In the book and cartoon film world of preschoolers, fairies, mermaids and other magical creatures abound.
"When I grow up, I want to have a tail," Lily has very firmly proclaimed on more than one occasion.
When pressed as to rather she'd rather have a tail or wings, she's resolute in her fin fantasies.
Being partial to wings myself, I don't really understand, but then again, I'm supposed to encourage her independent thinking, so tail it is for her.
What's your preference? Vote at the poll on the left-hand side of this page!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
777
I heard a clip of Reese Witherspoon on the radio the other day, talking about her philosophy on the game of life when it comes to children. You know what I'm talking about - the debate whether we should continually reinforce our children's self-esteem by rewarding them for their participation in sports, spelling bees etc... etc..., or do we merely reward their accomplishments and successes? Do we hand out medals, trophies and ribbons to all the competitors, or just to the winners?
Reese fell firmly on the side of awarding only the winners, citing how it builds character for children when they learn both sides of the story - winning and losing. I happen to agree with her, but at this point in time haven't found many opportunities to teach Lily about the losing side of life.
At various times, she's taken assorted swimming, gymnastics and "Sportball" lessons, but none of these have been in a team format, and aren't really competitive in nature.
So far the learning opps have been slim pickings with the more non-athletic games as well. You name it - Candy Land, Go Fish, Chutes and Ladders, Old Maid - The Bug has an incredible track record for winning. Game of chance (Chutes and Ladders) or game of skill (Memory) - it doesn't matter. Swap out the opponents - Mom, Pete, one of the neighbor boys - no difference. And at the tender age of four, she's already cultivated one hell of a poker face. Just try to get her to tip her hand when you're about to snatch the Old Maid from her deck. She's probably batting a 90% overall win percentage. To top it all off, every time she does win, she sort of dips her chin, coyly looks out from under her eyelashes, and says "I win?" The question mark is fully evident in her voice, but her smirk tells the world she knows dang well she has won...again.
I chalk up the win percentage to the fact that her birth weight was 7 lbs 7.7 ozs. on the nose. Yep - triple lucky 7s .
The Pythagoreans called 7 the perfect number. Days of the week, ancient planets, number of Roman deities, Arabian holy temples, Ancient Wonders of the World, Stephen Covey's habits of highly effective people, Snow White's dwarves - all 7. The list goes on.
So even though I know I probably shouldn't be thinking like this, the thought has maybe crossed my mind that I could ask Lily to act as sort of a good luck charm. Help pick out some Lotto numbers for me or something like that. (Don't start with me..You know you'd think about it too if your multistate lottery had crossed the $250 million dollar mark like mine did last week).
I've refrained so far, but only owing to the fact that we left the state to visit Gammy and Papa for a few days, and the jackpot had been won upon my return.
For now, I'll try to re-focus my energies not on leveraging my child's luck, but seeking out new ways to teach her more fully about winning - and losing.
But just watch out when she turns 21. There's a room at Caesar's Palace with our name on it.
Reese fell firmly on the side of awarding only the winners, citing how it builds character for children when they learn both sides of the story - winning and losing. I happen to agree with her, but at this point in time haven't found many opportunities to teach Lily about the losing side of life.
At various times, she's taken assorted swimming, gymnastics and "Sportball" lessons, but none of these have been in a team format, and aren't really competitive in nature.
So far the learning opps have been slim pickings with the more non-athletic games as well. You name it - Candy Land, Go Fish, Chutes and Ladders, Old Maid - The Bug has an incredible track record for winning. Game of chance (Chutes and Ladders) or game of skill (Memory) - it doesn't matter. Swap out the opponents - Mom, Pete, one of the neighbor boys - no difference. And at the tender age of four, she's already cultivated one hell of a poker face. Just try to get her to tip her hand when you're about to snatch the Old Maid from her deck. She's probably batting a 90% overall win percentage. To top it all off, every time she does win, she sort of dips her chin, coyly looks out from under her eyelashes, and says "I win?" The question mark is fully evident in her voice, but her smirk tells the world she knows dang well she has won...again.
I chalk up the win percentage to the fact that her birth weight was 7 lbs 7.7 ozs. on the nose. Yep - triple lucky 7s .
The Pythagoreans called 7 the perfect number. Days of the week, ancient planets, number of Roman deities, Arabian holy temples, Ancient Wonders of the World, Stephen Covey's habits of highly effective people, Snow White's dwarves - all 7. The list goes on.
So even though I know I probably shouldn't be thinking like this, the thought has maybe crossed my mind that I could ask Lily to act as sort of a good luck charm. Help pick out some Lotto numbers for me or something like that. (Don't start with me..You know you'd think about it too if your multistate lottery had crossed the $250 million dollar mark like mine did last week).
I've refrained so far, but only owing to the fact that we left the state to visit Gammy and Papa for a few days, and the jackpot had been won upon my return.
For now, I'll try to re-focus my energies not on leveraging my child's luck, but seeking out new ways to teach her more fully about winning - and losing.
But just watch out when she turns 21. There's a room at Caesar's Palace with our name on it.
Monday, February 18, 2008
I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS
"Don't check on me!" Coming from the kid who typically demands about 30 post-bedtime checks, this seemed like an odd request. But hey, who was I to complain? I had a good book to finish reading. (Life's a Mix Tape by Rob Sheffield if you're interested). So yes, while I heard various noises emanating from her bedroom, there was an absence of disturbingly loud crashes, and Lily herself was being quiet, so I went with the flow. Peter had not heard the bedtime proclamation, and took it upon himself to peek in on her.
"I SAID DON'T CHECK ON ME!"
Slightly sheepish, he retreated from the bedroom with one of those "You'll never guess what YOUR daughter is doing" type statements.
This is what she was doing. And I'd like to reiterate what I said in the title - I had NOTHING to do with it.
Except take the picture.
"I SAID DON'T CHECK ON ME!"
Slightly sheepish, he retreated from the bedroom with one of those "You'll never guess what YOUR daughter is doing" type statements.
This is what she was doing. And I'd like to reiterate what I said in the title - I had NOTHING to do with it.
Except take the picture.
Quick Quip #2
5 a.m. Monday morning - Lily-bug crawls into bed with us. Immediately I can feel the sauna-like temperatures emanating from her body.
7 a.m. Thermometer confirms assumption. Fever of 102.3.
11 a.m. Following throat swab and nose swab, the bug is diagnosed with the flu (So not happy that I decided to have her undergo the pain of the flu vaccine shot back in October). Nurse practitioner tells us what symptoms to expect over the next few days, including "congestion and runny nose." Passing the nurse's station on the way out, I inform Lily that we need to go pick up her medicine.
"Medicine so my nose doesn't run out?"
We departed, a station full of smiling nurses behind us.
7 a.m. Thermometer confirms assumption. Fever of 102.3.
11 a.m. Following throat swab and nose swab, the bug is diagnosed with the flu (So not happy that I decided to have her undergo the pain of the flu vaccine shot back in October). Nurse practitioner tells us what symptoms to expect over the next few days, including "congestion and runny nose." Passing the nurse's station on the way out, I inform Lily that we need to go pick up her medicine.
"Medicine so my nose doesn't run out?"
We departed, a station full of smiling nurses behind us.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
True Mom Confessions
They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, right?
Ok, here goes....Deep breath...
My name is Mom, and I pilfer from my daughter's treat bag.
There, I've said it. Yes, I am a treat taker, a candy grabber, a munchie moocher, a food filcher, a sweet stealer.
And aside from a teensy, lingering, Catholic-bred guilt for violating the 8th commandment, I don't even feel that guilty about it.
What teensy bit of guilt I have was brought on because of the imminent onslaught of Valentine's Day. Which means Lily's class party and estimated 28 new pieces of candy to add to the aforementioned treat bag. (No peanuts and no homemade goodies of course, proclaimeth THE SCHOOL).
The treat bag itself is a work of art - an orange scarecrow pattern with "Happy Halloween" and Lily's name embroidered on it. Kudos to Grandma Marsha. I never guessed when I first used the Halloween bag that it would become a four-season bag instead. Because when the Halloween candy stockpile appears as though it is just about to deplete, it is replenished with treats from the school Christmas party, then Valentine's Day, then the "spring" party. And all the birthday parties in between.
I think there may have been 3 days last July around MLB All Star Break where there wasn't any candy in the bag. Maybe 4 days. Certainly no longer.
So...in a single calendar year I estimate my child is ingesting about 19,310 grams of sugar. Or she would if we let her consume all the candy.
And even without Googling this info, I'm about 99.9% certain that number is slightly above the American Dental Association's recommended intake of sugar. And the American Pediatric Association. And the USDA, the FDA, WebMD, New England Journal of Medicine, Dr. Phil, the Mayo Clinic and the Dhalai Lama.
So really, I'm just doing my maternal duty by consuming her chocolate stash. I'm protecting her from a lifetime of cavities, obesity and childhood diabetes. Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing!
Whew. Glad I got that off my chest. All residual guilt is GONE.
Of course, all this analyzing and rationalizing is making me hungry.
I think I'll go see if she's got a Kit Kat in there.
Ok, here goes....Deep breath...
My name is Mom, and I pilfer from my daughter's treat bag.
There, I've said it. Yes, I am a treat taker, a candy grabber, a munchie moocher, a food filcher, a sweet stealer.
And aside from a teensy, lingering, Catholic-bred guilt for violating the 8th commandment, I don't even feel that guilty about it.
What teensy bit of guilt I have was brought on because of the imminent onslaught of Valentine's Day. Which means Lily's class party and estimated 28 new pieces of candy to add to the aforementioned treat bag. (No peanuts and no homemade goodies of course, proclaimeth THE SCHOOL).
The treat bag itself is a work of art - an orange scarecrow pattern with "Happy Halloween" and Lily's name embroidered on it. Kudos to Grandma Marsha. I never guessed when I first used the Halloween bag that it would become a four-season bag instead. Because when the Halloween candy stockpile appears as though it is just about to deplete, it is replenished with treats from the school Christmas party, then Valentine's Day, then the "spring" party. And all the birthday parties in between.
I think there may have been 3 days last July around MLB All Star Break where there wasn't any candy in the bag. Maybe 4 days. Certainly no longer.
So...in a single calendar year I estimate my child is ingesting about 19,310 grams of sugar. Or she would if we let her consume all the candy.
And even without Googling this info, I'm about 99.9% certain that number is slightly above the American Dental Association's recommended intake of sugar. And the American Pediatric Association. And the USDA, the FDA, WebMD, New England Journal of Medicine, Dr. Phil, the Mayo Clinic and the Dhalai Lama.
So really, I'm just doing my maternal duty by consuming her chocolate stash. I'm protecting her from a lifetime of cavities, obesity and childhood diabetes. Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing!
Whew. Glad I got that off my chest. All residual guilt is GONE.
Of course, all this analyzing and rationalizing is making me hungry.
I think I'll go see if she's got a Kit Kat in there.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
The Big "B"
Lily is four, going from three to two. Or maybe four.
Wheels, that is, As in from a petal pink retro tricycle to a bubble-gum princess pink two-wheel bicycle (or four, if you count the training wheels.). The Big "B."
In any case, it's a huge milestone for her, attained after earning 15 stickers for going to bed and STAYING in bed like she's supposed to do. Never mind that it took 33 nights to get 15 stickers.
It's almost superfluous to say, but it's a huge milestone for me too. And a "My baby's growing up" bittersweet milestone as well.
The prize is the far-from-one-and-only Huffy Disney Princess "Enchanted Tales" girls' bicycle, complete with a mini-backpack, bell, handlebar streamers, and those cool wheel spinner thingies that insert between the spokes.
We get home and the bike requires some assembly, so I ship Lily off to the neighbor's house to await its completion. I manage to finish most of the assembly solo, and only need Pete to finish up the hand brake. Although he insists on checking all my previous work. "So what if I only had to use one of the four tools the instructions said I would need? I do not, repeat, do not need an Allan wrench."
Soon, Lily descends upon us.
"Yeeesssss!," she screams while vaulting across the neighor's yard. The helmet goes on. Quick tutorial on proper coaster brake operation. And with a stretch of her legs and a little push from behind, she's off.
And soon after, I see it. A glimpse into my already-too-quickly approaching future.
Lily riding away.
Wheels, that is, As in from a petal pink retro tricycle to a bubble-gum princess pink two-wheel bicycle (or four, if you count the training wheels.). The Big "B."
In any case, it's a huge milestone for her, attained after earning 15 stickers for going to bed and STAYING in bed like she's supposed to do. Never mind that it took 33 nights to get 15 stickers.
It's almost superfluous to say, but it's a huge milestone for me too. And a "My baby's growing up" bittersweet milestone as well.
The prize is the far-from-one-and-only Huffy Disney Princess "Enchanted Tales" girls' bicycle, complete with a mini-backpack, bell, handlebar streamers, and those cool wheel spinner thingies that insert between the spokes.
We get home and the bike requires some assembly, so I ship Lily off to the neighbor's house to await its completion. I manage to finish most of the assembly solo, and only need Pete to finish up the hand brake. Although he insists on checking all my previous work. "So what if I only had to use one of the four tools the instructions said I would need? I do not, repeat, do not need an Allan wrench."
Soon, Lily descends upon us.
"Yeeesssss!," she screams while vaulting across the neighor's yard. The helmet goes on. Quick tutorial on proper coaster brake operation. And with a stretch of her legs and a little push from behind, she's off.
And soon after, I see it. A glimpse into my already-too-quickly approaching future.
Lily riding away.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
When PreSchoolers Dress Themselves
This morning I was witness to a scene straight out of the beloved (IMHO anyway) Sandra Boynton book "Blue Hat, Green Hat." The one where at the end of the book the slightly addled turkey dons an array of brightly colored, mismatched clothing (red hat, yellow shirt, green pants, purple socks, blue shoes), but then dives fully clothed into a swimming pool...
To be fair, there were no swimming pool, or any other water-based, incidents involved this morning. But after Lily dressed herself, she bore a passing resemblance to the turkey. Picture this:
-Turquoise corduroy skirt
-White and pink shirt with dancing ballerina
-Purple striped and 'starred' knee socks
-Pink and black camouflage pattern tennies
-Navy, white, and aqua green jacket
-Bright pink Elmo hair clips
Lily completed the ensemble with mittens. One cream and one pink.
Thank gooodness school pictures were yesterday.
To be fair, there were no swimming pool, or any other water-based, incidents involved this morning. But after Lily dressed herself, she bore a passing resemblance to the turkey. Picture this:
-Turquoise corduroy skirt
-White and pink shirt with dancing ballerina
-Purple striped and 'starred' knee socks
-Pink and black camouflage pattern tennies
-Navy, white, and aqua green jacket
-Bright pink Elmo hair clips
Lily completed the ensemble with mittens. One cream and one pink.
Thank gooodness school pictures were yesterday.
Friday, February 1, 2008
On the upside...
See post below for the downside of today...
Today marks the exact half-way point in mine and Peter's engagement. Yippee! Or is it yikes?! :)
Lily's been trying out the Spanish version of Dad, "Papi"- pronounced "poppy" - on Peter. He likes it, but I'm still lobbying for "P-Daddy."
I guess we'll see what sticks. It's up to her.
Today marks the exact half-way point in mine and Peter's engagement. Yippee! Or is it yikes?! :)
Lily's been trying out the Spanish version of Dad, "Papi"- pronounced "poppy" - on Peter. He likes it, but I'm still lobbying for "P-Daddy."
I guess we'll see what sticks. It's up to her.
One of those mornings
8:05 a.m. Leave house, relatively on time.
8:09 a.m. Realize have left laptop at home. Turn around.
8:15 a.m. Leave house 2nd time, laptop in hand.
8:23 a.m. Arrive at Lily's daycare.
8:26 a.m. Preparing to leave daycare first time. Lily asks me to please get her Care Bear, which she has forgotten, from the car.
8:28 a.m. Retrive and deliver care bear. 2nd round of kisses and hugs.
8:29 a.m. Get in car, realize have left sunglasses in day care.
8:31 a.m. Find sunglasses, leave day care for 3rd time after more hugs & kisses .
8:32 a.m. "Ding," I hear from the car gauge, insisting that I'm about to run out of gas.
8:40 a.m. Fill gas tank in 30-odd degree weather. Freeze butt. (Hey, I moved to TX from Chicago for A REASON!)
9:00 a.m. Esconced in chair at work, with hot coffee in hand. Happy again.
These Fridays that start off feeling like Mondays are the ones that make me long to be a stay-at-home mom. Looking forward to enjoying that role for the next two days. And by Monday, I just might be ready to go back to work.
Oh, who am I kidding?
8:09 a.m. Realize have left laptop at home. Turn around.
8:15 a.m. Leave house 2nd time, laptop in hand.
8:23 a.m. Arrive at Lily's daycare.
8:26 a.m. Preparing to leave daycare first time. Lily asks me to please get her Care Bear, which she has forgotten, from the car.
8:28 a.m. Retrive and deliver care bear. 2nd round of kisses and hugs.
8:29 a.m. Get in car, realize have left sunglasses in day care.
8:31 a.m. Find sunglasses, leave day care for 3rd time after more hugs & kisses .
8:32 a.m. "Ding," I hear from the car gauge, insisting that I'm about to run out of gas.
8:40 a.m. Fill gas tank in 30-odd degree weather. Freeze butt. (Hey, I moved to TX from Chicago for A REASON!)
9:00 a.m. Esconced in chair at work, with hot coffee in hand. Happy again.
These Fridays that start off feeling like Mondays are the ones that make me long to be a stay-at-home mom. Looking forward to enjoying that role for the next two days. And by Monday, I just might be ready to go back to work.
Oh, who am I kidding?
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