Easter Dolls

​"Eastie" (center) with the two new dolls.

The Easter Bunny diversified our doll population this morning. The girls' reaction was interesting and not quite what I expected.

​Clara with her new love, "J"

Clara, who has faithfully loved her doll "Eastie" since the Easter Bunny brought him last year, immediately abandoned him to claim the Asian doll as her new love. She named her "J" after her cousin J, whose father is Chinese. 

Katherine, who has been jealous of "Eastie" all year, jumped on the opportunity to make him her own - and make "him" a "her." Eastie does get to keep her name, although there has been some talk of changing it to Ava or Ella.

Alexandra took an instant liking to the brown baby, and has been alternating cuddling her and tossing her down the slide all day.

​In addition to the doll swap, all the clothes have been changed around. But now it seems everyone is settled with their new dolls.

​The only comment I heard about the dolls' ethnicity came from Katherine, who claimed she liked Eastie the best "because she has the same skin as I do." An innocent comment that shows she does notice race and has a preference for dolls who look like her. This is a pretty typical six-year-old reaction, but it is also a reminder of how important it is for our home to reflect the diversity we want our children to value.

I've mentioned before that Kristen over at Rage Against the Minivan writes a lot about race in our society. If you are interested in reading more about children and racial differences, I highly recommend her post on How to Talk to Kids About Race and Racism.

This moment: Kids on Dad

From Soulemama: A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Away...

A brief escape to this beautiful beach* for an hour at sunset today.

Purple sand. I'd never seen purple sand.

​It's nice to have two days of intense greens and blues (and purple) after months of the wintery black and white of Vermont. 

Can anyone guess what beach this is?​

*I would have taken these pictures myself if I had thought to bring a camera on this trip. But I didn't, so photography credit goes to the wonderful people who upload their pictures to the internet for others to enjoy!.

Easter Cookies (Recipe)

The Easter cookies didn't make it onto Pinterest, but they were good! Here's the recipe*:​

​1/2 cup softened butter
​1/2 cup honey
​1 egg
​1/2 teaspoon vanilla
​1 1/2 cup whole wheat flour
​1/4 teaspoon salt
​1/4 teaspoon baking powder
​
​Beat together butter, honey, egg and vanilla. In a separate bowl combine flour, salt, and baking powder, then add to butter mixture and mix well. Chill for at least one hour. Roll out dough and cut out shapes. Bake at 350 degrees for 8 minutes.
​
​Sprinkle with colored sugar before baking or decorate with frosting after baked and cooled.

​*From the Waldorf Kindergarten Snack Book

This moment: Fortune Tellers

From Soulemama: A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Diversity

Our community in DC was very diverse and we had friends and classmates of different races, languages, and cultures. It just was that way and I rarely thought about it. But now, in Vermont, I do think about it. After having lived in DC for 10+ years, the lack of cultural and racial diversity here really stands out, and it is all the more important to me to acknowledge diversity and make it a topic my children (and I) are comfortable talking about openly. 

One of my favorite bloggers writes a lot about race, specifically about "raising our kids to appreciate diversity," and she gives ideas on how to accomplish this. For example, 

Take an inventory of your home's diversity. Are your toys sending a subtle message? Make it a point to buy dolls and action figures of every race. Watch how your kids react. 

Well, we have a few books with characters that aren't white:

And we have a lovely bus with a diverse crowd of bus people:

And a few little dollies:

But that's about the extent of the diversity in our home. All of our "baby" dolls are white. This does not reflect the diversity I want my children to value. 

Why does buying non-white dolls feel uncomfortable to me? Perhaps it is because I believe a doll should be an image of the child it belongs to. That's fine, and we have that.

But not every doll has to be an image of my child. So why do I hesitate? I know why and I'll just come out and say it: 

I'm afraid if I buy a black doll my children won't want to play with it and it will become the doll no one wants. 

What in the world would I say if my children were fighting over who got the black doll? Wouldn't that be worse than not having any black dolls in our home?

At the encouragement of a friend, I am going to face this fear and bring diversity to our family's doll population.

Last year, the Easter Bunny brought Clara this doll.

She LOVES him (despite the rest of us referring to it as "her," Clara insists it is a "he") and named him "Eastie," after the Easter Bunny. Katherine and Alexandra also love Eastie. Apparently, Eastie smells really good and Katherine especially loves his hard head. So this year, the Easter Bunny will bring these two dolls to Katherine and Alexandra.

I admit I'm nervous about their reaction. Given how much they take to Eastie, what will I do or say if they are not happy with their new dolls who are exactly the same other than their race? What if they come right out and say they don't want a doll that looks like that? What will that say about my kids, or rather, about Dave and me? 

I have nothing prepared for this scenario. Other than to tell them these dolls were brought to them with love from the Easter Bunny, I've got nothing.

Maybe - hopefully - I won't need anything and they'll be welcomed into our family as Eastie was.

Cookie Decorating

I just discovered Pinterest. I knew the general idea and have heard/read about how it often makes moms feel bad about what they're not doing or pulling off with their homes/cooking/baking/etc. So when I added a few boards to get started (as Pinterest made me do), I wasn't surprised to see some pretty impressive baking feats. ​

Once upon a time, I decorated the things I baked. ​Not anymore. I think the last time Dave and I did any cake decorating was for Katherine's first birthday.

​I've tried a few times since, but since I do most of my baking with small children who want to help out, I've learned everyone is much happier when there is no specific outcome in mind. 

So while some people's Easter cookies look like this...

​Ours look like this...

(In case it isn't obvious, there are bunnies, carrots, maple leaves "because it's maple sugar time", little fairy cookies, and something round that is also for the fairies, but I never did understand what it was for exactly)

I don't have anything to pin to Pinterest from our afternoon of baking, but we have a neon pink carrot cookie to eat. Who wouldn't want that?!

This Moment: Wall pushing

From Soulemama: A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Do you have any questions?

Last week as we were loading into the car after a triple-kid doctor appointment (we're all much better now, thank you for the well wishes), a mom in the car next to us was unloading her three children, the oldest of whom was about 8 and in a wheelchair. Both Katherine and Clara watched intently as the mom settled her son into his chair. By "intently," I mean staring and captivated. 

I smiled at the mom as I would any other mom with three kids and then went about putting mine in their carseats. But I wondered, what does that mom want me to do about my kids staring at her kid? What does she want me to tell them to meet their curiosity about her son? What does she want me not to do or say?

As I was buckling them in, Katherine was silent, but clearly thinking about the boy. So I asked her, Katherine, do you have any questions you would like to ask me about the boy in the wheelchair? At first she hesitated and shook her head, but then she asked, Why was he in a wheelchair?

Me: I don't know. Maybe he came out of his mom's belly a little too early and his muscles don't work properly. I'm not sure. 

Katherine: Can he walk? Or talk?

Me: No, he can't walk, but he can talk. He might not sound the way you do when you talk, but he probably talks just as much as you do and I bet his mom has to tell him to talk more quietly when his little sister is sleeping!

Katherine: What else does he do?

Me: I bet he loves to read - he looks like he's 7 or 8, so he is probably learning to read at school. And I bet he likes when his mom and dad read to him before bed.

Katherine: Does he sleep in his wheelchair? Can he get out of it?

Me: He sleeps in a bed and he can sit on the couch or play on the floor.

Katherine: Will I be in a wheelchair someday?

Me: No, you won't. Your muscles work properly.

Katherine: Oh, ok.

Me: Do you have any more questions? I'm happy to talk to you about this and answer your questions.

That balance between answering their questions, but not providing more information than they are asking for, or are ready for, or can handle at one time, is tricky. And questions like that aren't usually the ones you can prepare for. I didn't know why the boy was in the wheelchair, but I thought that Katherine needed some sort of simple explanation. And of course I can't promise anyone that they won't be in a wheelchair someday, but at her age, she shouldn't have the burden of worrying about the turns life can take, and so I just answered, no. 

Katherine seemed satisfied with the conversation, but I do wonder how to raise children so that disabilities are simply accepted and do not cause a barrier in making a connection with someone. 

Anyone have any experience or advice in this area that they'd be willing to share?

Artwork in children's books

​I've noticed a trend when I post about books that I love...

... the imagery is beautiful.
​... this book has beautiful images.
​... also, the artwork is beautiful.
​... beautiful artwork.

​I think it's safe to say I often choose a book based on its illustrations. Given the artwork in children's books is so important to me, I thought I'd share my thoughts on the kind of artwork I love and why. 

One quality I like is for the artwork to be vague and open-ended... more like a prompt to create an image than a pre-made picture. Just as imagination is the child's work in play, it is also the child's work in listening to stories. Giving a child space to imagine a character or a scene allows him to make it what he needs it to be to be relevant to his life. 

​Beach, Elisha Cooper

The ​Hello, Goodbye Window, artwork by Chris Raschka

​A Color of His Own, by Leo Lionni

But the artwork doesn't have to be vague to inspire. I love these pictures - even though they are well-defined, they still allow one to imagine movement. That is, they are not outlined in black ink with a shallow, still feel to them (i.e., Dora, Thomas the Train). They have depth and beauty.

Inside All, artwork by Holly Welch

​Owl Babies, artwork by Patrick Benson

​The Serpent who came to Gloucester, artwork by Bagram Ibatoulline

And then there is artwork that is done through different mediums. I love the creativity and work that went into creating these.

​Teddy, by Enid Warner Romanek. (The illustrations are from etchings done on zinc plates on the artist's own etching press)

​The Cat Who Wouldn't Come Inside, by Cynthia von Buhler. (The illustrations are photographs of a set the artist designed and created - using clay, hand sewn clothing, a homemade dollhouse, and various other materials)

Finally, there is artwork that ​is just plain awesome. David Wiesner's Art & Max, for example.

What are some of your favorite illustrators?​

That Moment: Resting

No new pictures from our week of illness... but this old one from last year pretty accurately represents what we've been doing.

From Soulemama: A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

​

Book: Augustus and His Smile

Our first winter in Vermont has been wonderful, with lots of snow and outside fun. But despite all the rosy cheeks and fresh air, I have been feeling the grey dampness of late winter seeping in. I'm sure the ear infections and fevers of last week have something to do with it - we're all a little run down. This morning I pulled one of my favorite children's books off the shelf... it seemed to fit.

Augustus and His Smile, by Catherine Rayner.

Augustus the tiger was sad.
​He had lost his smile.​
​So he did a HUGE tigery stretch and set off to find it.
​

​Augustus goes on a search for his smile and along the way he discovers the simple beauty of the world. ​​

Beautiful artwork... and a happy ending.

Puppy Dog

A few weeks ago I mentioned to a friend that I was struggling with how to deal with the big sisters' bickering. I'm never really sure, or interested in, how a conflict starts. When I do pay attention I find both sisters are guilty of something. Katherine often bombards Clara with a series of statements like, "My tower is the better one, right? It's better than yours because it is taller and more beautiful. Your tower isn't as good," and Clara has been known to knock Katherine (or her tower) down for no apparent reason (perhaps a preemptive or delayed response to the slew of 6-year-old boastful insults?) Either way, both sisters dissolve into tears and outrage. I stay out of it if I can, and respond to the tattles with vague phrases like, "Hmmm, I see," or, "That doesn't sound good." But if it gets to that point where they can't repair their play I'll step in. The problem is that my stepping in isn't working: sending one kid out of the room just makes that kid angrier, taking away the object of conflict makes both kids angrier, trying to sort out who is feeling what and why is more than they can handle in the moment, distracting them with a new activity might work, but the conflict seems to follow them into the new activity.

My friend offered a new idea. She suggested having the one who is struggling (usually Clara) stay next to me in whatever I am doing for a period of time. The idea is that it is not a punishment, like sending her to sit on the stairs; instead it separates her from the conflict without isolating her. 

Because Clara is very into puppy dog play, I call my puppy dog over to me and tell her I am tying her (pretend) leash to my waist. She has to stay close to me and follow me around wherever I go, until I untie her. She loves it – probably because this is similar to what my mom does to her dog when, on those very rare occasions, he misbehaves. Clara is delighted with the idea of being treated like Grandma’s dog and stays right at my feet, absorbed in her new role as family dog. The fight is forgotten and we can all move on.

I know the puppy dog part will lose its novelty, but having one child stay close to me is a great solution. This neutral consequence is accepted by both - meaning Katherine doesn't feel Clara gets special treatment for misbehaving, and Clara doesn't feel the injustice of being punished for a fight that Katherine was a part of.

​Thank you, Elaine. This idea is working wonderfully and our late afternoons are much more enjoyable!

And just the other day, Katherine came to me and told me she felt she needed to be my puppy for a little while, and would I please tie her leash to my waist. Then when she was ready to go back to her play, she asked me to untie her.

This moment: Laundry

We have all been sick this week... first the kids, then the dad, and now the mom. Hoping to come back healthy and strong next week.​

From Soulemama: A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Recipe: Angela's Chocolate Cake

This is our traditional family birthday cake. I love it because it is chocolate (it's a law: birthday cakes must be chocolate), not too sweet (so I can justify giving it to kids and then finishing it off after bedtime), and easy to make (kids can help without driving me crazy). 

For this cake, we made a double batch and used three cake pans - a big one for the base, a medium one for the second tier, and a third one for the heart cut-outs to place on top ​for decoration. We put jam in the middle and whipped cream on top. 

1 1/2 cup flour
​1/3 cup cocoa powder
​1 teaspoon baking soda
​1/2 teaspoon salt
​1 1/2 cup water
​1/2 cup oil
​1/3 cup honey
​2 teaspoons vanilla
​1 tablespoon vinegar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a mixing bowl add the ingredients one at a time, stirring after each. Pour into cake pan(s). Bake for 25-30 minutes.

​(See also Angela's chocolate recipe!)
​

This Moment: One!

From Soulemama: A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Favorite Saying #5

Life is not a dress rehearsal.

My dad has been saying this for as long as I can remember. It isn't related to children or parenting, but it sure is relevant to life in general. Perhaps more and more so as I see  how each major life decision narrows down the possible pathways my life can take from this point forward. When I was 24, my future was wide open - the person I would marry, the career path I would chose, and the kind of family I would have, none of it had been decided. Once I committed to graduate school in language acquisition, it pretty much ruled out graduate school in any other field, and once I married Dave, it ruled out marrying anyone else… and so on. Not that one can't change a career (or husband), but it is much less likely to happen, and because I decided to spend my late twenties in school, it means I will never have spent my late twenties hiking the Appalachian Trail. 

While this may all sound depressing, this saying has guided my life in a very good way… like our move to Vermont. Dave and I have always wanted to raise our children in the country, closer to family. When our oldest was approaching school age, we realized this is it, there would be no do-over of where we raised our children. As we weighed the pros and cons of taking the leap to move to Vermont, I could hear my dad saying, "You know, life is not a dress rehearsal…"

Other favorite sayings:

A toy should be 10% toy and 90% child.

Boredom is the best gift you can give your child.

It is better to be 100% with your child 5% of the time than 5% with your child 100% of the time.

There is no such thing as poor weather, just poor dressing.

Worthy of Imitation

"It was not my finest parenting moment…" 

I hear this a lot. I say this a lot. An admission of guilt for not having handled a situation as we might have wanted to, for not having reacted with the grace and wisdom that we are trying to impart to our children. In the Waldorf world, there is a lot of talk about "being worthy of imitation." Given that children are great imitators, we should strive to model the behavior we want to see in our children. I interpret this to include everything from basic table manners to values such as tolerance and kindness. It is a huge responsibility, being worthy of imitation, and it is challenging. I don't have trouble chewing with my mouth closed or modeling respect for others, but I do struggle to maintain a calm, collected demeanor throughout the day while taking care of three small children. I admire Katherine and Clara's teachers who achieve this grace with such ease, but I question the feasibility and desirability of parents modeling ideal behavior all of the time. 

In an ideal world, no one yells in anger, or uses exaggerated sarcasm to display irritation, or stomps about to express dissatisfaction. In an ideal world, impatience would be suppressed when a child dawdles while getting ready for school. But in my reality, after telling my kids to help me clean up the playroom for the third time, I sometimes snap at them in a tone filled with irritation. When my six-year-old interrupts me repeatedly to ask me to help her with something right now, even though I am in the middle of doing something else and have asked her kindly to wait, I might burst out, full of exasperation, "Katherine, stop! I said I will help you when I am done." When I can't take one more squabble over something as inconsequential as who gets to wear the pink slippers, I threaten to take the slippers away and never ever give them back. Not my finest parenting moments. I certainly don't want to hear my kids use that exasperated, irritated tone with me or with each other, or with anyone else for that matter. But to be fair, their behavior can be really annoying, and in life, really annoying behavior has social consequences.

Functioning in society requires gauging others' communicative cues, such as tone used to express irritation and exasperation, and then perhaps adjusting one's behavior accordingly. Part of raising children means preparing them to function in society. Therefore, it would be unnatural for a parent to strive to hide or suppress a natural reaction to annoying behavior.

I do not mean to simply excuse or justify less than ideal behavior. Nor am I proposing that because my children will encounter poor behavior in the world, I'd better prepare them for it my behaving poorly myself from time to time. I firmly believe it is important to treat children with kindness, warmth, and dignity, and I believe parents are role models for children and that responsibility should be taken very seriously. But holding ourselves to the standard of always being worthy of imitation is not realistic, and unwavering calm and control - to the point of masking natural human emotions - may not serve our children well. And therein lies the balance between striving to be worthy of imitation and allowing ourselves to be real.

There will be many "not my finest parenting" moments. But instead of reliving them through admissions of guilt to our friends at the end of the day, we should accept them as part of the learning process for ourselves as parents, and for our children who are learning how to behave and how to process others' behavior.

This moment: Dollhouse Play

From Soulemama: A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Favorite Saying #4

A toy should be 10% toy and 90% child.

I love this quote and have found it to be so true. The less a toy does, the more my children play with it. The less defined a toy is, the more it is incorporated into their play in different ways. Cardboard boxes, ropes, blankets, and kitchen bowls are the true treasures. 

I am continually surprised - or maybe impressed is the word - at how fluid children's play is and how their props morph right along with them as they move from one scenario to another. A blanket starts out as a blanket, then turns into a sled to pull a little sister across the floor, then serves as the roof to a fort, then becomes a cape - no, a bonnet, for a fairy, then is used as a sack to carry pretend food, then is turned upside down and tied to the pretend food to be dropped from the top of the stairs as a parachute… and on and on.  

A bright red fire truck, complete with ladder, lights and siren? It can only be a fire truck.