Summer Camp

Tai is half-way through his month of Summer Camp and really enjoying it. Honestly, I didn't expect it to be very different from preschool during the summer. I just thought it would be nice to try getting used to new routines, teachers, and kids, as practice for kindergarten.

But it turns out that, even when you are just 5-and-a-half, summer "camp" is very different from summer preschool.   And it rocks.  Every day he comes home having learned new songs, heard new stories, and made new friends.  And it is so adorable how they are doing All The Camp Things.

Tai seems shockingly grown-up when explaining to me how to play tether ball,  Capture the Flag or what a slip-n-slide is.  And just look at the tie-dye shirt he made!

And this is the gimp bracelet he made for his sister.  I had completely forgotten that gimp existed until he came home with this treasure, but then it all came flooding back.  I used to love making this type of thing.  I am half-expecting a macrame potholder this week.

Perhaps Tai's favorite thing about this "big kid" adventure is that at the end of the day he is already lined up waiting for me, lunch bag in hand.  I simply drive up and a teacher escorts him to the car and he jumps in.  The first few days I was arriving a little early and going in to the classroom to help him gather up his stuff. But eventually he asked, "Mama, don't park the car and walk over-- just drive up and I'll get in."  We only made 5 1/2 years before I embarrassed my son in front of his peers. 

Pool Ownership

The pool has been open for a few weeks now.  We've had several friends and neighbors over to swim, and also had our first hot & sunny weekend all to ourselves at home.  Accordingly, I am learning lots of things about owning a pool:

1.  On weekends, I should not bother getting dressed in regular clothes because the kids will insist on swimming shortly after breakfast.

2. Accordingly, there is no such thing as "playing in the backyard" anymore.  As soon as we step outside they start asking to swim.  Even at 9am.  Even if it's only 75 degrees out.

3. If I heed my own advice and keep my suit on all day, it must be a two-piece.  Using the bathroom in a (damp) one-piece and a sundress is no fun.  

4.  You can never own too many swimsuits.  Selecting a fresh one out of the drawer is 10 million times better than attempting to put a cold wet one back on your body.

5. Speaking of swimsuits, there is absolutely no room for body image issues with pool ownership. Friends-Neighbors-Relatives-Coworkers will come over to us the pool.  You will swim with them.   There is no option of worrying about what you look like in a suit. And no one cares anyway.  It's fantastic, actually.

6.  One side effect of never knowing when friends might want to come by and swim is that I've been better than ever before at keeping my legs cleanly shaven.  The other side effect is that I've been keeping the bathrooms clean.  Folks who come over to swim always want to use the bathroom as well.  So, yes, the pool is essentially forcing me to clean the bathrooms and shave my legs.  These are not bad things.


7.  Although the bathrooms are unprecedentedly clean, the rug by the back door is destined to be damp and grassy all summer long.  I have pretty much come to terms with that, but Quynh refuses to walk on it.  She literally asks to be carried over, "the dirty red rug" and into the bathroom so that her feet don't get dirty.


8.  Pool ownership is work.  Even though 119 people told me that as we were preparing to buy this house, I still feel the need to state it here.  That said, the novelty has not worn off yet and I kind of enjoy skimming and vacuuming the pool, as long as I don't have to learn about the chemical balancing part of the job.  That's Minh's thing.

9. I still love to swim as much as I did when I was a kid.


10. I can still do a cartwheel off the diving board.

11.  My kids love to swim as much as I did when I was a kid.  But while both kids are always excited to get in the water, Tai's lips turn blue after about 15 minutes and he stands there shivering asking to go inside and get changed.  Quynh, on the other hand, is already famous for batting her wet eyelashes and asking, "Just one more quick dip, daddy?" and then the two of them swim for 30 more minutes.


12. When Tai says his pool towel, "smells like cheese" it's time to do some laundry.

13.  We spend so much time out in the backyard I might actually get a tan this summer.  Do not underestimate the gravity of this statement.

14.  Swimming with a child who cannot yet stand in the shallow end is exhausting.  Although I love playing with both kids in the water and carrying Quynh to and fro across the shallow end, I am very much looking forward to the day she can stand on her own feet in the pool.

15.  We are a family of fish.

Outing From Hell

Today I needed to kill exactly one hour between school pick-up and Kung fu class. Today it also happened to be 98 degrees out, so having a nice little picnic snack was not an option. And running home to dip in the pool was also not an option because none of us would want to cut swim time short to go to Kung fu.

So I came up with this Brilliant Plan. I would take the kids to the newly opened frozen yogurt place downtown for a frosty treat. We would sit in the air conditioning, enjoy a snack, and relax until it was time to drive the 15 minutes to Kung fu.

Oh, but then I worried that this plan was so brilliant that surely everyone with a child would make the same plan for an after school frozen treat. So I even made TWO backup plans. First I identified a restaurant near the yogurt shop that had fruit smoothies. And then I always had the public library in my back pocket as well--thanks to a clever coworker for that idea. True, the library does not serve treats, but it has AC, and the kids love it, and it's free!

The kids were aware of plans A and B, but I made no mention of the library idea. Still, as we pulled into a parking spot downtown, Tai asked, "How come we NEVER go to book stores or libraries anymore EVER?". (For the record, it has been about 2 weeks since our last library visit.) I brushed off his criticism of my choice of activity and we proceeded with Plan A. Bookworm that he is, Tai asked to bring his new Superman book into the yogurt shop to read. I said yes. This will be important later in the story.

Much to my delight the yogurt shop did not have a line out the door and even 4 of the 5 tables were empty.  "Ha Ha! I must be the only genius in town!" Not really.

Upon entering the shop I immediately noticed (and could not stop from exclaiming loudly) "Oh, there's no air conditioning!!!" Of course the employees heard me and one of them sheepishly explained that it was in fact on (so why was the front door propped open?) while the other employee launched into a much-too-detailed explanation of why they only had three (crappy) flavors to offer today.

Given the limited choices, Tai and Quynh both opted for vanilla. True to form, at the self-serve toppings bar Tai chose fruit and Quynh wanted gummy bears. When I asked Tai what he wanted on his yogurt and showed him the numerous options he pointed to the maraschino cherries and said, "a cherry!". When I asked what else he wanted, my sometimes-greedy and relatively-spoiled child said, "I can have MORE?? Can I have THREE cherries?". In the end I convinced him it would be OK to have several cherries and a few raspberries too. He was delighted.

After sitting there for 15 minutes, sweat literally running down my face and other body parts, we were all ready to get the hell out of there. And it was not nearly time for Kung fu. We all agreed that we needed AC for the next 20 minutes, badly. The library idea crossed my mind right as Tai said, "I bet there is air conditioning in a book store or library." Smart kid. The library is free, but it was a bit further away, and in the opposite direction from the car. But there was a book store right across from the car. Perfect!

The book store was Icy Cold. We sat on the floor and read various books. It crossed my mind to leave without buying anything. But I was soaking up their AC. And my kids do love books. It's not like I was spoiling them with candy or anything. So I said we could get something but they better hurry up and choose, it was time to head to Kung fu. After a lame attempt at negotiation, I ended up buying them EACH a book simply because I did not have the TIME for them to settle on one they both wanted. Let me just say that the 20 minutes of AC cost $1.80 per minute. This put me in a foul mood. Also, we were already running late for Kung fu.

So, Quynh in arms, back into the heat we went, across the street, to the car, rushing, rushing, rushing for Kung fu. We got to the blazing hot car and started to get in when Tai calls out in a panic...(can you guess?) ..."Where is my superman book???"

F$&K!!!!!

I didn't really say that out loud to my kid, but I thought it. "I don't know--Where did you LEAVE it?" and then, "OK, let's go back for it," is what I said in a clearly exasperated voice, along with a mini-lecture about taking responsibility and if we had made it all the way to Kung fu before he realized I would NOT have gone back.

Tai was sure the last place he saw it was the yogurt shop, so back we went and they had indeed put it behind the counter for us. Tai was visibly relieved.

In the end, we made it to Kung fu 15 minutes late for a 45 minute class. I remained grouchy pretty much all the way until we made it home and right into the pool.

Preschool Graduation

Today was Tai's "preschool graduation".  They don't call it that, but that's essentially what it is.  Thankfully there were no caps and gowns--but the kids got to wear crowns.  And who doesn't love to wear a glittery crown?  Honestly, I am so thankful for Tai's crown because it helped distract folks from his goofy bangs.  Here's what happened:

Last night I noticed that Tai was due for a haircut.  But I know (as everyone does) that you never get a haircut the day before a big event because it always takes a few days for the new haircut to look right.  For some reason I disregarded this age-old wisdom and got out the clippers anyway.  For just a trim.

But while Tai was sitting half-nude on a stool in the living room, watching WonderPets, I got carried away with the scissors.  I thought it looked fine when I was done, but after he showered and dried off I realized that I had transformed him into a spitting image of Jim Carrey's character from Dumb and Dumber.  Whoops.

Of all the times to get carried away with the haircut -- the day before the Most Important Day of Tai's Life!*  So this morning I did what I could to make it better.  After dressing him in a nice, new shirt with a collar (and throwing a spare one in my car in case he were to get dirty during the day, the way preschoolers are meant to do) I wet a comb and combed his hair while he ate his breakfast.  This is actually not unusual.  He frequently wakes with a bit of a rat's nest in the back and the only time he'll let me comb it down is when he's busy eating.

The unusual part is that I surreptitiously applied a little hair product to his bangs in an effort to get them to sweep to the side and stay there.  Yes, I dipped into my (expensive) Defining Whip and used it on my five year old son.  This is my confession.



* Not really at all.  But you get a sense of how I unwittingly became swept up in this whole preschool graduation thing.

Three.

Quynh starts sentences with, "Actually..."

Quynh tells jokes that aren't funny.

Quynh sings songs.

Quynh cackles when you tickle her and begs you to stop.  Then she calms down and says, "Again!!"

Quynh is learning her letters and her numbers.

Quynh will climb anything that looks climbable and hang from anything she can find.

Quynh likes to do puzzles.

Quynh cheats at rock-paper-scissors.

Quynh is terrible at playing 20 Questions.

Quynh takes good care of her (five!) baby dolls.

Quynh is fully potty trained.

Quynh sometimes sleeps naked.

Quynh dresses herself.  Sometimes 3 times a day--she enjoys costume changes.

Quynh has a difficult time making decisions.

Quynh has a voracious appetite......for sweets.

Quynh orders for herself in restaurants.

Quynh's favorite shows are Go Diego Go and Ni Hao Kai Lan -- because she likes to yell at the TV.

Quynh loves music and frequently initiates Kitchen Dance Parties -- especially if she's wearing a good twirling dress.

Quynh feeds the dog.

Quynh likes to help pack lunches and make dinner.

Quynh can be opinionated and feisty.

Quynh is imaginative and loves to play, "Going to California" with her brother, in her closet.  She also plays "Going to the Beach" and "Going to School".  She's always going somewhere.

Quynh loves art projects and frequently wanders into the playroom and helps her self to paper, scissors, glue, etc.

Quynh is beautiful.

Quynh is kind.

Quynh is brave.

Quynh is three.

Economics Lesson in the Toy Aisle

It's important to me to raise thoughtful, generous kids.  This is why I take Tai to the toy aisle at Target and let him choose birthday gifts for his friends whenever he's been invited to a party.  I do this to teach him about giving.  I do this despite the fact that it is hell for me.

He actually did really well the first couple times, when his task was to spend far too long drooling over all the really cool toys that he'd like to have for himself and then choose one to give a (boy) friend.

But last weekend he did.....um....less well choosing a birthday gift for Quynh.  Maybe because it is his sister?  Maybe because she is a girl?  I'm not sure why, but despite me being very clear about the plan he started asking me to buy HIM something just as we approached the toy aisle.  I stopped short of entering the Dreaded Toy Section of Target and said very clearly that we were there to get something for Quynh and that's it.

Upon entering the Toy Section, he immediately needed clarification over the money situation, so he asked, "Am I buying this with MY money?  Or are you?"  I assured him that all he had to do was choose the gift and I'd buy it.  I did not give him a particular price point to work with, but he generally senses that the items in huge boxes on the bottom shelf are way too expensive. He tends to point at them and declare, "I know we're not getting that!"

So we started to browse and he started turning down all my suggestions.  The doll's bed, the mermaid tub toy, the Dora sprinkler, the My Little Pony -- none of them were what he wanted to buy her.  "Mama, I'm NOT getting her THAT!"  was heard by shoppers several aisles away a few times.

Then he got distracted.

"Tai, I don't think she wants a Star Wars Lego set...."
"Tai, we're not getting her a leap pad video game system...."
"Tai I know that YOU want X, Y, Z, but you need to focus and find something for Quynh..."

After a few more whines of the, "But can't we get this for ME?" nature, he got really smart and came out with this one: "If I get something for Quynh that just costs a little money, can I use the left-over money to get something for myself?"

Genius.  Pure genius--I was totally impressed.  And pissed off.  What kind of attitude is that?  Can't you just see him picturing himself coming home with a $1.99 plastic piece of crap for Quynh and a $20 Avengers Action Figure for himself?   I held my ground and said that no matter the price of the gift he selected for Quynh we were not buying anything for him.

The good news is he pulled it together just short of me throwing a My Little Pony into the cart and carrying him kicking and screaming to the checkout.  He zeroed in on a gender-neutral, age-appropriate toy that I really do think Quynh will enjoy playing with (and Tai will too, which seems to have been his criteria all along).

Self Sufficient

Tai and Quynh are different in so many ways, one of which being their willingness to do things for themselves.  I don't know whether it's due to their age, birth order, sex, or just personality, but they differ dramatically on the self-motivation scale.

Quynh is full-on in the "I do it myself!" phase, which can be both adorable and frustrating (like her insistence that she apply her own sunscreen this morning at a painfully slow pace).  Tai, on the other hand, follows the "Why do it myself when someone else will do it for me?" philosophy.  Don't get me wrong, he actually does do lots of things on his own (get dressed, brush his teeth, etc).   But he does seem to be much less excited by the idea of self-sufficiency than his sister.  Actually, looking back I think he had this attitude even as a toddler.  Anyway, last night Quynh reached a new level in self sufficiency that I didn't even know about until this morning.

Having recently mastered the overnight potty training thing, she was pleased as punch to go to bed buck naked last night (as her brother does every night -- I guess they are not that different).  Yet this morning she emerged from her room and had to take off underpants before using the potty.  Huh?

Apparently at some point between tuck-in and wake-up (which she calls, "the middle of the night" but for all I know it was 6am) she woke up and decided she needed bum cream.  But she didn't need any help.

As far as I can tell she acquired the cream (from the top of her dresser, by balancing on tip-toe on the foot-board of her bed), un-capped the tube of cream, applied it liberally to the relevant area of her body, re-capped the tube, replaced it on her dresser, and then (wisely) took a pair of underpants from her drawer and put them on before climbing back under the covers.

Sometimes it's like she doesn't even need parents.

Early Literacy

Recently Tai and some of his classmates have taken an interest in writing letters and spelling words.  The children have been approaching the teachers for help spelling words that are of particular interest to them.  The teacher writes the word on a scrap of paper for the child to then copy in their own hand.

Apparently the teachers really are leaving it to the children to decide which words they would like to practice writing because yesterday Tai came home with a piece of paper that simply said:

AUSTRALOPITHECUS
HOT WHEELS

Boy's Night Out

The other night Minh took Tai out to a concert of classical soloists (think violins, harps, flutes, soprano singers, etc).  We know one of the violinists, and Tai is really into classical music so it seemed like the perfect outing. 

At dinner we managed Quynh's disappointment in not being able to go by explaining that it was late at night -- too late for toddlers. 

We also tried to preempt any misbehavior from Tai by explaining that it was actually a grown-up event and he might be the only kid there, so he'd need to act all grown-up.  Minh suggested he even put on some nice grown-up clothes for the occasion.

Tai *loved* that idea and dashed off to his room to put on the jeans he never wears (which are very grown-up because they have a zipper and a snap)  and his only button-down shirt.  He even insisted on a tank top under the shirt and boxer briefs so he'd look, "just like Daddy."   

After he was dressed, he had abut 15 minutes of time to kill in the playroom before leaving.  During that time I overheard this conversation between Tai and his sister:


Q: Tai, why do you have a Big Grown-Up Shirt on?
T: Because that lets everybody know I am old enough to go to the concert.
Q: Are you going to see everybody there, with the same shirt?
T: Yes.
Q: They might have different shirts.....

He wore the outfit for only a few hours, so he decided to re-use it the next day at school.  Apparently it was quite the conversation starter, and Tai even shared at Morning Meeting all about his outfit and the concert he attended. 

Bathing is Boring

The other day one of Tai's teachers showed the preschool class a video of a newborn baby being bathed.  When the video ended Tai informed her that he would be, "much more interested in seeing a baby actually being born."

Maybe he should have spent less time watching the cottontop tamarinds at the Museum of Science, and more time with his sister.

Conversation Skills

My children know how to talk, but not how to converse with another person.  Their vast vocabularies are used only for rambling monologues, peppered throughout with, "Mama, Mama, Mama?" to make sure I am 100% following along.

Often (especially at the dinner table or in the car) we get two concurrent monologues, one from each child.  When this happens, I interrupt them and tell them to stop interrupting each other.  Minh puts in ear plugs.  Frequently Quynh starts in with a soft-spoken tale of her day at school or the menu at her imaginary restaurant and then Tai (completely oblivious to the fact that his sister is speaking) starts in at more-than-full-volume about the latest antics of his friends at school.  Inevitably, Quynh pouts and announces, "Hey, I was telling a story and you ruined it!"

Other times they use their verbal skills to ask questions.  Great.  I love questions.  I encourage questions as the best way to learn things.  But they frequently ask questions to which they already know the answer.  Over and over again.  Or they ask a question and then while Minh or I are answering it they talk (loudly) over us.  And then when we are finished with our (no doubt brilliant the thoroughly informative) answer, they say "What?"

So I began wondering how to solve this issue, both for my own sanity and so that they can learn the valuable skill of self control.  Presumably, someday they are going to need to carry on a give-and-take conversation.  So I tried an idea I that read in a book and printed up a clip-art picture of a mouth and one of an ear and put them on the dinner table.  The kids were intrigued.  Minh looked on with skepticism.

The point is supposed to be that the child holding the picture of the mouth has the floor, so to speak.  And the other child holds the picture of the ear, to remind them that they are the listener and it is not their turn to talk.  And then they are supposed to trade back and forth and we are supposed to have a peaceful, enjoyable, lively dinner conversation.  

So how'd that go?  We ended up with Tai crawling across the dinner table to grab the mouth picture out of Quynh's little fist so he could talk.  Awesome.

I think maybe I just need to get me some earplugs. 

Effing Nala

My boss recently returned from Disney World with thoughtful gifts for my children.  So thoughtful, in fact, that she not only remembered that they both like the Lion King, she actually checked in with Minh to see which specific Lion King characters my kids liked best.  "All of them," was the reply Minh gave her.

Yesterday she presented us with a stuffed Nala and a stuffed Timon (see below).  We, in turn, went home and gave them to the kids--explaining that they were a gift all the way from Florida.  Look at these, aren't they adorable?  Timon is even clutching a juicy grub in his hand.  How could any child not love these gifts?

Tai immediately wanted to know which stuffie was for which kid.  In my overly egalitarian, almost socialist, way I replied that they are (of course) both for sharing.  This, in retrospect, may have been a mistake.

As soon as one child (Quynh) took a shine to one of the stuffies (Nala) my afternoon was ruined.  Quynh's affection for Nala over Timon only served to make Nala the object of Tai's affections as well.  Timon was cast aside while my kids fought over, whined for, cried about, and grabbed at poor Nala. 

After 30 straight minutes of trying to both negotiate turns with Nala and spark some interest in Timon, I attempted to change the subject with a game of hide and seek.  Luckily, Tai seemed not to care that while both hiding and seeking Quynh kept Nala tucked under her arm, or that Nala had to sit at the dinner table next to Quynh.

While I was tucking her in last night, Quynh requested to sleep with Nala.  Since Tai was already in bed, there was no one to fight her on that point.  So I acquiesced but told her that Tai will get to sleep with Nala the next night. She replied, "Why?  He can have The Other One."  (Poor Timon, Quynh can't even be bothered to remember his name.)

Post-tuck-in, I went out to the kitchen and found poor Timon, discarded on the kitchen floor with only his grub for company.

Fat Pants

I don't understand Fat Pants.  Maybe I'm doing it wrong?

Not long ago I discovered that all of my work pants were way too tight.  I mean, I could just barely fasten them and when I did I was immediately uncomfortable and grouchy.  So I figured I needed to lose a couple pounds.  But that could take a few weeks, right?  So I decided to get a couple pairs of stop-gap Fat Pants to meet my needs until I dropped a couple pounds and went back to my usual pants.

Also, I figured, it's only a few pounds I need to lose, so I don't need a serious diet, I'll just cut out junk food, including the (almost nightly) glass of wine and some-form-of-chocolate.  In a few weeks, I'll be back in my regular pants.  Right?

This does not seem to be how it works  Instead, it went like this:

Purchased 2 pairs of Fat Pants and experience immediate relief.
Lost all desire to squeeze into old pants.
Lost all desire to lose a few pounds.
Drank lots of wine and ate lots of chocolate.
Can now ONLY fit into two pairs of Fat Pants -- regular pants will no longer fasten.

When I was wearing the Tight Pants and feeling uncomfortable all day long I was much more motivated to diet.  Now that I am comfy in my Fat Pants, why would I bother?  Actually, even when I was sausaging myself into my old pants from 9am-5pm, the motivation was only present when the Tight Pants were on.  As soon as I'd get home from work I'd put on Comfy Pants and miraculously forget about the whole pants problem.  It's like I can only diet when I'm at work, and uncomfortable.

Like right now.  I'm in my powder blue snowflake patterned fleece pajama pants (jealous?) and they feel great!  So what's the problem?  No problem!  Bring me more wine and chocolate!  No problem all the way till tomorrow morning when I have to dress for work.   And even then, I have the Fat Pants.

This all reminds me when a friend of mine gained her Dissertation Weight (it's a thing, really) and she went out and bought bigger clothes.  I remember she said, "I'm not getting fat, I just needed bigger clothes!"  This is exactly my problem.  The bigger clothes take away that sense of expanding waistline, thus all motivation to diet. 

So the questions remain:

(1) How do I get motivated to get back into my old pants?  Keep wearing them?  Wear them 24/7 so I am always uncomfortable?

(2) How do I keep the Fat Pants from becoming the Regular Pants?  Or, God Forbid, the New Tight Pants?

(3) How is this supposed to work?  What am I doing wrong?

Necessity is the Mother of Learning to Operate Doorknobs

At the ripe old age of 2 years, 7 months, Quynh had still not learned to operate a door knob.  And why would she?  With two parents and a brother to open doors for her, she had no need.

Until she moved into her Big Girl Bed.

The first few nights in the bed she slept like an angel, waking at the usual hour of 6:30am and softly calling to us or signing to herself to let us know she was awake.  We'd go in and find her still in her bed, playing with her baby dolls.  The transition from crib to bed went so smoothly, I thought to myself, somehow forgetting my past experience.  Then, just like her brother before her, it occurred to her that she could simply get out of bed.  Whenever. She. Wanted. 

The next few nights, she woke early and decided enough was enough.  No longer caged in her crib, she climbed out of her bed.  But she was trapped in her room by her inability to figure out the enigma that is the doorknob.  Logically, she knocked to be let out.  One night Minh and I woke to the outrageously loud sound of tiny little knuckles rapping on a door at 2am.  And then again at 5am.

This habit spread briefly to bedtime.  A couple nights in a row, just after being tucked in, she would start knocking on the door.  We found that if we opened the door and tucked her back in there were tears.  But if we ignored the knocking it eventually stopped.

But then one evening it happened.  We tucked her in and closed the door.  Less than two minutes later the door *opened* and Quynh came out, announcing, "Mama, I have to tell you a secret."  Trying not to let my face betray the absolute shock and horror (and not even a hint of pride) I felt at her new-found ability to escape her room, I tucked her back in and told her to save her secret for the morning.  She wept.  And fell asleep.

For the next several nights, Quynh woke at the ungodly hour of anytime-before-6am, came out of her room, and wandered down the hallway.  She'd come into our room, clad in feety PJs, nuk in mouth, stuffies tucked under arms, and blanky dragging behind her.  She'd look up at me with those big black anime eyes and ask, "Can I come in your bed?"

And I'd say "No."

It's so hard to say no, but we learned with the first kid that we have to.  So each time, we'd put her back in her room and she'd cry.  But eventually she got the hint.  She's still not sleeping all the way until 6:30, but this morning she stayed in her room (doing God-Knows-What) until then.  Actually, I take it back.  I know what she was doing.  She has one of these things, where you scratch off the black stuff to reveal sparkly rainbow colors underneath. She adores it.  And at one of my recent 5am wake-ups (during which I found myself arguing with a 2 year old over whether and why she had to go back to sleep) I grabbed the notepad off her table and suggested she busy herself with that till 6:30am.  Not the best decision, since I now find her sheets covered in little black flecks every morning.  But at least she lets me sleep.     

Now she has the cutest little night light on a timer just like her brother.  And we're hoping she takes to that system as well as he did.  Tonight's the first night with the timer and she's pretty excited about it.  Let's see what the wee small hours of tomorrow morning bring.

Welcome to the Big Leagues

Quynh is (daytime) potty trained.  She had been working on that, off-and-on, for a while, but a few weeks ago something just clicked and she got it.  Do you suppose it had anything to do with the fact that in her PNP video Santa said, "I understand you've been asked to try to always make it to the toilet on time"?  That Santa, he can be pretty powerful.*

Well, whatever happened, I'm thrilled that it did.  She's 2 years and 7 months old and the only time she wears a diaper is overnight.  I can practically see the End of Diapers Forever on the horizon.

Quynh's other milestone over the holiday break was learning how to climb in and out of her crib on her own.  She frequently takes to her crib to "rest" (get a nuk fix).  It's lovely that she likes to hang out in there, especially when we are making dinner.   When she's done she yells, "Can someone get me out?!?"  But one evening she did not call for help, but simply emerged from her room with a big smile on her face.  Surely it was a one-time fluke, we hoped.  But over the next few days she proved that theory wrong, easily climbing in and out at will.

So we got a sitter and went bed shopping. (Because I cannot imagine much worse than trying to make a decision about such a large purchase with two kids jumping on mattresses and asking me to play with them.)  Quynh's only request was that we get her a "pink one".  When we returned home and declared success, she asked a series of questions:  "Where is it?  Is it in the trunk [of the car]?  Can I sleep in it?  Is it pink?"  We tried to explain that large items like beds have to be delivered and that for some strange reason pink beds are not that common.

So the bed arrives tomorrow and we're hoping the pink Hello Kitty sheets will take ker mind off the fact that her wooden bed is not pink but the color of, well, wood. Yes, tomorrow night my baby will sleep in her brand new Big Girl Bed for the first time.  Yes, I am excited.  And yes, I am little bit sad.  But mostly I'm just wondering how she will handle sleeping un-caged. We all know how well that has gone in the past.



*I need to keep this in mind next year and start plotting what he can help me achieve in 2012.

Five

I have been a mother for five years.  I have been tired, overwhelmed, and angry.  I have been energized, playful, and elated.  I have yelled and waved my finger.  I have whispered secrets and rubbed noses.  I have lost my patience.  I have used my imagination.  I would not trade it for anything.  

Most importantly, I have raised a five-year-old who is:

• smart beyond my wildest dreams
• interested in all types of music
• an avid fan of mystery novels
• amused by slapstick comedy
• fascinated by animals
• an environmentalist
• determined to study all-things-prehistoric
• desperate to own a microscope
• hoping to one day do "real science experiments, with chemicals"
• planning to (also) be an architect
• the class clown
• a good friend
• practically a swimmer
• generous
• highly suspicious of Santa's existence
• sweet and loving toward his sister (mostly)
• sometimes shy
• frequently frustrating.....but
• always amazing

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.