Curative Story: Molly Artiste

I just finished reading Bringing up Bébé, which I loved. One of Druckerman's observations is that in American kids' books there is usually a problem, a struggle, and a happy resolution, "Lessons are learned, and life gets better" (p. 162). Stepping back, I see how true this cultural phenomenon is, and I wonder, is this another automatic and empty reflex that has blindly taken over children's literature the way "good jobbing" has taken over parent talk? Do we really want to communicate to our children that life is full of neat and tidy endings? Because I have yet to experience that kind of life and I'm not sure raising our kids to believe it will make it so...

To avoid turning my children into anxious underachievers who will never ever succeed in life because they are wasting away in a neurotic spiral of doom while waiting for that happy ending promised in all the childhood stories I ever told them...  here is my first Curative Story à la française. 

​Curative Story: Molly Artiste

Once upon a time there was a bunny, and her name was Molly bunny. Molly bunny lived in the forest with her mama bunny and her daddy bunny. Molly bunny was 6 years old and loved to draw. Every afternoon while her mama was cooking carrot stew, Molly bunny would sit on the stump with her favorite long stick and draw pictures in the dirt. She drew tall trees, little flowers with petals, bumble bees, butterflies, and even her best friend, Agoo the chipmunk. 

One day, Molly bunny was drawing a picture of a tree she had recently discovered in the forest. It was an old tree with many strong branches. One branch held a bird's nest and another had a long rope swing that a little girl would sometimes stop to play on when she took a walk in the woods. Molly bunny was trying to draw the girl on the rope swing. She frowned in concentration as she dragged the stick across the earth to make the rope hang down from the tree. Then she drew a head and a body and arms to make the girl. Molly bunny looked at what she had drawn and it didn't look like a girl on a rope swing at all. She smoothed the dirt to erase the girl and tried again. It still didn't look right. Molly bunny threw her stick in frustration and yelled, "This is NOT working!"

"Molly!" exclaimed mama bunny, looking up from her stew, "what's wrong?" "This drawing in terrible," said Molly bunny angrily. Mama bunny came over to look at it. "Hmmm," she said, "what don't you like about it?" "It doesn't look like a girl on a rope swing. It doesn't look like anything. It's terrible!" And with that Molly jumped down onto her picture and stirred up all the dirt until no picture was left.

Mama bunny sighed. "Well, you could draw something else. Or try it again. But it might not look the way you want it to. Sometimes art is like that." Molly bunny looked at her mama. "I really want to draw the girl on the rope swing," she said, gazing at a clean patch of dirt. She picked up her stick and started over. After a few minutes she stepped back and looked at her drawing. The tree looked good, she thought, but it still didn't look like a girl on a rope swing. 

Molly tossed her stick aside. Her artwork was not working today, she decided. So she hopped off the stump and went to gather stones to play hopscotch instead.

Spring in DC

When we moved to Vermont I was ready for a real winter. I faced it full of energy, prepared for a good 4-5 months of cold and snow. But now it is April and my "I love winter" energy has run out. Leftover dirty, icy snow covers our yard and the wind is still chilly. It feels like we're in some sort of no man's land - winter is over but spring feels far away.

I can't help but long for DC... March and April are my favorite months in DC (or maybe I should say DC is my favorite place in March and April), and I'm pretty sure they are my least favorite months in Vermont. 

​Vermont in April:

DC in April:​

I won't miss DC's 90+ degrees from May-September, but right now? I'm kind of wishing I were there. 

This moment: Almost - but not quite - Spring

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.

Sharing

I have noticed over the years that our society applies a one-size-fits-all approach to sharing, which is that all children, regardless of age, must be coached to share. So often I hear parents interrupting children's play with comments like, "Share, Johnny!," "We share our toys," "You need to share that!" One year olds, three year olds, five year olds… doesn't matter, parents have the expectation that children should share.

First of all, I find this expectation a bit of a mystery considering it is the one behavior that we, as parents, rarely model ourselves. I don't use my friends' cell phones, or share their water bottles, or push their strollers, or drive their cars, or even use their computers. Maybe I'll borrow their sun screen if I forget mine, but sharing among adults is rare. Yet we expect our kids to share before they can talk.

Second of all, why do we think we can - and, more importantly, why would we want to - hurry along the cognitive development that children need in order to grasp the concept of sharing? Alexandra at age one has no idea what sharing is about, but Katherine at age six understands. At some point in the next few years, Alexandra will figure it out too, but I strongly doubt my descending on her with orders to "share!" will have any influence over that cognitive development.

What happens if parents just sit back and let toddlers do their thing without imposing sharing on them? It's hard to find a way to observe what would happen since most parents are committed to teaching their children to share - especially at the playground or on play dates when other parents are present. But when parents don't interfere, the interaction between two toddlers over a desired toy is often just that, an interaction, and usually not about sharing at all. 

I remember observing this type of interaction in a parent-toddler class, where we parents were  asked to watch our children play without interfering:

A two-year-old, Suzy, discovered a toy telephone and was busy playing with it. Another toddler, Joey, went for the phone, yanking it out of Suzy's hand. Suzy screeched, yanked it back, and walked away. Joey followed her and grabbed it again. They tussled over it for a minute before Suzy let go and walked away without the phone. Joey watched her go, phone in hand, then ran back over to her and handed her the phone. She accepted it, but as soon as she did, Joey took it back again. At this point, Suzy lost interest and went off to play with something else. Joey made one more effort to give it back, but then put the phone down and also went off to play with something else. The exchange was over.

Letting this interaction unfold was fascinating - when the parental "sharing" agenda was removed, it was clear that sharing wasn't relevant to either child. Joey wanted to interact with Suzy, and he did so, in a typical, healthy, two-year-old fashion. Interrupting this exchange would not have moved them closer to understanding the concept of sharing and it would have prevented them from experiencing this perfectly appropriate social interaction.

Sometimes, though, it might be about the toy. When Katherine was two she loved doll strollers and inevitably, there was always one at the playground. As soon as Katherine saw a doll stroller, she had to have it, and once she got it, she would not let it go without a tantrum. In this case, I did need to help her negotiate the interaction with the owner, who also wanted to push the stroller around. But I found it more effective to avoid the concepts of "ownership" and "sharing." Saying something as simple as, "Katherine, when Suzy is done you may have a turn," usually worked. If Katherine already had the coveted stroller, and little Suzy wanted it back, I'd tell Katherine, "Suzy is going to push it now, and you may have it back when she is done." 

What I love about the "you may have it when she is done" phrase* is that no one is tied to a time limit. I don't have to hover around the kids keeping track of "3 minute turns" or help a two-year-old count laps around a playground before insisting on giving the stroller back. I tell my child the rule (sometimes several times), then step back and let her follow through with it on her own. Of course, in reality this doesn't always work because the other parent often steps in and insists that Suzy share, it blows up into a big thing and we spend half of the playground visit fussing over how our children share. Then I don't get to sip my coffee and chat with other parents... which is the whole reason I go to the playground in the first place. ​

I wonder, what if... what if parents just stepped back and let their kids do their thing?​

*All credit for this strategy goes to Ms. Christine.​

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.