The Miracle of Birth

Over the holiday break we went to the Museum of Science. Tai was, of course, fascinated by the dinosaurs, the Pompeii exhibit, and the gift shop.

But Quynh cannot stand and look at dinosaur skeletons for as long as her brother, so I brought her to what was one of my favorite exhibits as a child. The chick hatchery. Being 2 days before Christmas, it was not at all crowded, so we could stand right up by the window to the incubator and see all the little fluffy yellow chicks on one side and the un-hatched eggs on the other side. This was so luxurious, compared to my memories of field trips when 28 of us all tried to see in at once.

So she and I stood there and watched this one egg with a large crack in it. It began to wiggle. The museum staff member assured us it could still take hours for a chick to emerge. But a mere 5 minutes later a scrawny, wet, and tired chick emerged from the egg. Quynh was beyond excited. And I have to admit that I was pretty darned thrilled myself.

But after watching him/her struggle to stand, fall over, and flop around for 10 full minutes I was ready to move on. Quynh did not want to budge. Eventually, I decided to try to cajole her away from the chick display by enticing her over to the section on human birth.

She adored the mother-and-baby statue almost as much as she liked the models of fetuses at 2, 4, 6, and 8 months gestation. She kept asking to play with the "tiny babies".

Then she found the birth videos.

We walked into this little room with a TV screen and four buttons below it. The buttons were labeled Fetal Development, Vaginal Birth, Home Birth, and Cesarean. When we entered the room, the vaginal birth video was in progress. From my point of view, it was at a very exciting part. But Quynh found it boring at first. While the video showed a close up of the woman's face as she pushed and pushed and pushed, Quynh asked loudly and repeatedly, "Where's the baby???"

Then the camera panned down to Where The Action Is and Quynh exclaimed with apparent concern, "What's on her bah-gina?!!" I tired to calmly and quietly explain where babies come from (literally). I hoped she would not be horrified.

She watched intently as the baby emerged, was placed on the mother's chest, and was wiped clean with a towel. The video ended and she said, "Again!!!" Later, when someone was halfway through the home birth video, Quynh ran up to the TV and pushed the button to switch back to the vaginal birth movie. All told, I think she watched it three times before deciding to move on to another exhibit.

So while Tai learned about volcanoes, dinosaurs, and the solar system, Quynh learned, at the tender young age of two-and-a-half, about the miracle of birth.

Winter Market

I used to think "Farmer's Markets" were all about vegetables.  But I have learned over the past few years that they often include meat, cheese, honey, pastries, various other crafts, and live music.

Our town happens to have not-one-but-two outdoor summertime markets and not-one-but-two indoor winter markets.  Excessive?  Perhaps.   But it means that chances are, when you find yourself sitting around wondering what to do, there is a farmer's market you could be visiting.  We've lived here only a few months but have now officially been to each of the four markets at least once. 

Yesterday morning we checked out the winter market held in the middle school cafeteria.  Our kids were hesitant to get out of their PJs and into the car, but once we got there they had a blast.  They headed right for the live music.  Tai stopped and stared at the musicians -- enthralled but not moved to dance.  Quynh is more of a free spirit.  The music moved her to spin around in circles as fast as she could to the point of extreme dizziness and then stagger off into the crowd. 

Minh took the time to visit all the tables and even purchased some Actual Vegetables.  I, on the other hand, (1) finished my Christmas shopping and (2) bought coffee, cocoa, and a scone for our family snack. 

And, of course, we ran into some friends.  How could we not?  The place was packed with young families, old townies, and everything in between.

Part of me pats myself on the back for introducing my kids to farmers markets, with their local organic produce. And part of me wonders about the example I set when I run right for the table with the chocolate croissants.

Racial Profiling

My kids go to a "school" that employs both full-time teachers and work-study college students.  To me, there is a clear distinction, but to my kids they are all "teachers."  And there are so many work-study students in that place, that I can't keep them straight and am not sure I have even met them all.  But I hear lots of stories about them from my kids.

One day, while picking up Quynh at the end of the day, I happened to catch the name of the student helping her with her shoes, Samantha*.  I did not scrutinize Samantha's features, and apparently neither did Quynh.  A few days later we were out to dinner in town and a group of young women entered the restaurant.  Quynh immediately started yelling, "Samantha! Samantha! Samantha!" and pointing.

I scanned the group of women for Samantha, but the closest I found was another white girl with similar hair color and body type to Samantha.  But who really looked nothing like her.  Embarrassed by her yelling, I tried to quiet Quynh and explain that was not Samantha, though possibly looked a little bit like her.  

All of this happened in the amount of time it took this group of women to walk into the restaurant, be seated at the table next to us, and order a round of scorpion bowls.  (Because that's what college-aged women do at 5pm on a Tuesday, I guess).

************Fast-Forward About 6 Months*******************

The kids and I were in a Mexican restaurant for dinner the other night.  It's a very casual place where you order at the counter, and lots of folks come in and out for take-out.  Tai and I were still enjoying our tacos, but Quynh was done staring at her quesadilla and chewing on her straw, so I let her get down and walk around.  She disappeared briefly around the corner, by the take-out counter, and then came running back, shouting, "Jose* is here!  Jose is here!"

Oh geez.  Jose is another work-study student at school.  But I figured that Quynh had surely just mistaken some random Latino man (possibly even an employee of the restaurant) for Jose.   This is going to be embarrassing, I thought, and possibly result in a long conversation on the way home about race, and genotype versus phenotype, etc.   I am not ready for that.  

Like Lassie, Quynh stood 5 feet from our table, begging me and Tai to follow her around the corner and see Jose with our own eyes.  In an attempt to get myself out of a potentially embarrassing situation and having to say to some stranger, "You'll have to excuse my daughter, she thinks all Latinos look alike," I said to Tai, "I don't really remember what Jose looks like, so why don't you go see if she's right."

Tai hopped down off his seat and they both ran off around the corner.  Seconds later they re-appeared, with huge grins on their faces, and Jose by their side.  Jose waved to me and talked to the kiddos for a minute.  They peppered him with questions, "What are you doing here?  Where are you going now? Why???"

As I watched them staring up at Jose, star-struck, it reminded me of once seeing an elementary school teacher of mine in the supermarket.  It's totally weird to see a teacher out "in the wild" and be reminded that they are people too, with their own lives.  

The good news is my daughter is not racist.  But she thinks all white girls look alike.      ;)

*Names have been changed.

Candy Canes

Last week we attended our town's annual holiday tree lighting event, complete with wagon rides, a barely audible middle school chorus, the arrival of Santa via fire truck, and Christmas Carols played by the marching band.

For Quynh, the best part was counting down along with the crowd "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1" and watching the tree light up.  After the initial cheering, she cried, "Again!" but no one else seemed to want to unplug it and start all over.  The good news is that she gets to do this every evening when we get home from work and school in her very own living room.  After (or while) fighting over who gets to flip the switch, she and Tai count backwards from 10 at the top of their lungs and then fill the living room with Christmas Cheer.

For Tai, the highlight of past tree lighting events has always been the marching band, but this year I think it was the simple joy of running around the town common and playing hide-n-seek with his friends.  At dusk.  In a dark green jacket.   Making it impossible for me to keep track of him.

Upon his descent off the fire truck, Santa was swarmed by masses of kids, teenagers, and (pushiest of all) parents thrusting their toddlers in his face.  All in the name of receiving a candy cane that you could just go buy anywhere.

Yes, we were in that mob.  Caught up in a frenzy of BeatleMania-esque excitement, I too was holding out a hand for a candy cane, to give to Quynh.  And Minh lifted Tai high up in the crowd and coached him, "Hold out your hand!  Show Santa you want one!"

Candy canes in hand, we wove our way through the madness over to a slightly less crowded spot to watch the band.  Both kids asked to eat their candy canes right away (an hour before dinner) and I said, "Of course!"  Because what kid has ever finished a whole (full-sized) candy cane?  I figured they would suck on them for 10 minutes and then get over it.  After all, candy canes are not actually that good.

(You already know where this is going, don't you?)

I unwrapped both candy canes and handed them over.  Then we tried to get a picture of our two adorable children with their festive treats, but Quynh kept hiding behind my legs desperately asking to be picked up and Tai was making a nasty face.  "Ugh," said Tai after 3 licks.  "These are mint. I don't like mint."  And he handed his candy cane over to me as trash.

Quynh, on the other hand, has no problem with mint.  Yup, you guessed it.  While watching the band....she worked on her candy cane.  After it fell on the ground....she ate it some more.  When the other kids were all running around playing...she stood on the sidelines and nibbled her candy cane.  On the way to the restaurant for dinner....she kept on licking the damn candy cane.

When we sat down to dinner it was about two-thirds gone and we had to forcibly remove the last third from her little fist.  And there were tears.  And screaming.  In public.  While people were trying to eat.  To shut her up, I promised she could finish it after dinner. but this just meant that after each bite, throughout the whole meal, she asked "Now can I have my candy cane?"  After she had eaten one won ton, a chicken finger, and two bites of something else, I gave up.

"Fine.  Take the (friggen) candy cane."  She won.  But the meal suddenly became more pleasant, so maybe we all won.

As you have figured out by now, she ate the whole damn thing.  I don't know why her capacity for sweets continues to surprise me.  Someone remind me of this next time I am tempted to give her a treat before dinner.

Merry Christmas.