Opening Up the GD Toolbox: Stories

Image credit photogramma1 on Flickr

Some of my best childhood memories are of listening to my mother make up stories.  It was only natural to me to start using them with my children.  Most of us tend to think of stories as being nothing more than entertainment.  But they are also a fun part of our parenting toolbox.  Jesus was a storyteller.  The Bible is made up of stories.  Stories are a wonderful way to communicate Truth and encourage connection.  

Whether you are two, twenty, forty, sixty or ninety, one of our deepest needs is to feel understood.  Often children resort to meltdowns because they have no other way to fully express the depth of their hurt, frustration or anger.  They are compelled to show us exactly how serious and intense the feelings are.  Stories can be a great way to show that we get it.

Stories are also a powerful teaching tool.  Most of us tune out a boring list of instructions.  But in an exciting story, it is easy to absorb and remember how a character responded to a situation.  I want to clarify that this is not like some of the old fashioned morality tales that had a heavy handed punishment of bad behavior actions and simplistic reward of positive behavior.  The goal is not to scare our kids (these aren't horror stories!) or to alienate them by showing a disregard for their feelings.  But giving positive role models will provide them with ways (or even scripts) to help handle similar situations.

Stories are even more fun (and more effective) when they are a collaborative effort.  Invite your child to help tell the story.  Ask questions.  "How do you think he felt about that?"  "What do you think she should do next?" It is fine if the story goes in an entirely different way than you envisioned.  As long as your child is communicating with you, good things are happening!  It may seem disturbing if your child throws in a rather graphic scene of vengeance.  Resist the urge to squash their contribution, though--again, it goes back to expressing the full intensity of their feelings.  Once their emotions are fully acknowledged, you can gently work in alternatives.

The number one tip for story telling is to be a good listener.  As you validate and reflect, and allow them to tell their own stories they will be able to gain perspective for their own situations and acquire new coping tools of their own.
 

When my oldest daughter would have a meltdown, I learned to sit next to her and quietly begin a story about another little girl in a similar situation.  It was a delicate balance to get the same emotions with enough differences in detail to make it clearly a story.  Sometimes she would correct me on details, and I would welcome that as a way for her to share her feelings with words.  

The most beautiful example that I have seen of this type of storytelling is by Crystal Lutton, in her article Words as Magic.  Her story here with her four year old who was upset with his little sister is a fabulous template for using stories as a discipline tool.  Stories can help children feel connected and understood, and when that happens, a surprising number of problems disappear.

And of course, it isn't just for "problem issues".   Stories are always a way to communicate and tie our hearts closer together.

As much as I love story telling, in the moment, sometimes I am so tired or preoccupied that it seems difficult to get in the groove.  These are my favorite tips for coming up with stories my kidlets will love.

Have you ever used stories to diffuse a rough moment, encourage or teach your child, or just to connect?  I would love to hear about how you use them as part of your GD toolbox!

***********

Image credit goaliej54 on Flickr

Moving away from punitive parenting requires a brand new set of tools.  Let's open it up together! For the rest of the series, click here.  And if gentle discipline is revealing areas where you need to work on yourself, see if any of these personal tools resonate with you.

Looking for more practical tips?  Check out my favorite post from the Hippie Housewife on The Hows of Discipline (and read through all the comments!),  Pearl in Oyster's 52 Tool Cards series and Aha! Parenting's blog.  Do you need inspiration and a reminder of why and how to do this?  Read Emerging Mummy's Practices of Mothering and Positive Parenting: Toddlers and Beyond.  If you have other great resources or ideas, please add them in the comments.

Starry Night

Image credit noahg on Flickr

I mentioned at the beginning of the summer that I wanted to be open to new adventures.  I read about Blessed Mama's camping trip with a bit of envy and it sparked the thought that it might be fun for our kidlets to sleep out under the stars.  We don't have a tent, or even sleeping bags, though, so I regretfully tried to squash the impulse.  Until we went outside in the gorgeous twilight, and the kids didn't want to come in.  I told myself that we would probably make it back inside the house before midnight, and to just go with the adventure.

The kids were shocked and delighted when I started grabbing blankets and taking them outside.  We settled into our spots, except for Elena, who kept popping up like a Jack-in-the-box and dancing around.  The second time that she woke the baby I got really grouchy, but eventually recovered and apologized. Before long, both little ones were sleeping and the older two were happily counting stars.

We watched the rabbit in the moon, picked out a couple of constellations, then listened to the buzz and chirp of the local nightlife and scanned the heavens for falling stars.  All the kidlets were sound asleep before ten thirty.  I, on the other hand, found myself wondering if any creepy crawlies might decide to join us in the blankets.  Sleeping right on the ground suddenly seemed like a not so great idea.  I also discovered that despite plenty of natural padding, my bones on the ground were not particularly comfortable.  The neighbor's dog began to bark and a mosquito whined in my ear.  I probably would have gone back inside, but I didn't want to wake the kidlets.

Then I began to notice the sweet smells of the grass.  To really look at the sparkling diamonds strewn across heaven's floor.  The chirp and hum of the insects began to sound relaxing (it helped that the mosquito left without dinner).  I grabbed an extra pillow and positioned it under my hip and fell asleep.

Of course, we woke a few times.  The babies actually slept amazingly well--they didn't wake up any more than usual.  Around 2:00, the dew was noticeable, and I slipped inside for additional blankets.  The kidlets snuggled closer like a pile of little puppies, but we were dry and warm underneath the blankets.

Around 5:30, Ariana woke up and we snuggled and whispered together about dew and falling stars and planets, theology and astronomy and Oz.  It grew light a little after 7:00, and as the sweetlings woke up, I brought them hot chocolate.  The light in their eyes was brighter than the sun as they realized that they had stayed out the whole night.  :)  We cuddled and giggled, and they said it was the best night ever.  <3

I am so glad that I yielded to the impulse and said yes!

Contemplations on the Calendar, by Ariana, Age 7

Image credit: tanakawho on Flickr

I found these on the notes section after she had been playing with my phone one day, and they made me smile.  I love seeing her play around with sounds and words, and plays on meaning.  Some are a little more obscure to me than others, but I can definitely see a creative mind at work here.  :)


Days of the Week

Sunday--The day you get light from the sun.
Monday--Give people money you are not going to use.
Tuesday--Celebrate the number two.
Wednesday--Name your kids wind.
Thursday--Drink juice to satisfy your thirst.
Friday--Fry an egg.
Saturday--Sit on someone, then remember it.

Months of the Year

January is the month you celebrate your chef.
February is the month you fib to talk.  (She later asked me what "fib" means).
March is the month you march the whole day.
April is month you name your April.
May is the month you say may instead of can.
June is the month you get light from the moon.
July is the month with no lying. (To make up for February, perhaps? ;) )
August is the month you pick a special leaf and make it your buddy.
September you can make your own scepter.
October is the month you try to capture an octopus.
November is the month you have to say no to everything you can hear.
December is the month it will snow.

Seasons of the Year

Summer is the season of kids.
Spring is the season of love.
Winter is the season of adults.
Fall is the season of God.

The Petite Chef's Housekeeping Apprentice

I loathe housecleaning.  It is one of my biggest triggers.  When it can't be avoided, my strategy is generally to blast through it as quickly as possible, and woe betide anyone who dares to interrupt me!  I am gladdened and humbled to see that my children are developing differently.

My seven year old knocked a bag of fish food on the floor today, and the smelly little pellets rolled all over the floor.  As she started to clean them up, her little sister kept interrupting.  Twice she dumped the dust pan just as Ariana had nearly finished sweeping them all up.  I was heading over to intervene when she looked patiently over at her little sister and asked if she wanted to help.

Elena nodded enthusiastically, and Ariana glanced around quickly and spied a small inflatable palm tree.  "Look, Elena, that palm tree would be a perfect mop!  All you have to do is turn it upside down."  Elena happily began "mopping" the floor with the plastic palm tree.  Ariana finished sweeping and mopping up the floor with the real mop and together they beamed over a job well done.

I have written before about how much I learn from watching them interact, but wanted to post this to help me remember to look past the interruptions and seek creative ways to include and connect with my little ones.  Maybe, in another seven years, it will start to come as naturally to me as it does to my daughter.  <3

Parties and Presence

Family gets your best, or no one gets the rest.
~ Crystal Lutton

Two of my greatest weaknesses are housekeeping and social activities.  Since I believe that God is loving and good, I try to consider my husband's love of parties as an opportunity for growth rather than evidence of a sense of humor far more diabolical than divine.  However, regardless of how organized I try to be, having four little ones means that last-minute party prep is inevitable.  Sure, I'll mop the floor that morning--doesn't mean that I won't have to do it again 30 minutes before the party.

One of our traditions is that every semester, Carlos invites his students over for food and a movie at our house.  Between allergies that have knocked me out this week, my own classes, situations with friends and family, homeschooling and caring for my kidlets and other stuff, I was more behind than usual, and was running at full speed yesterday.  I shamelessly turned on both TVs hoping to occupy the little ones while I cleaned, but my two and a half year old refused to take the bait.

She showed remarkable ingenuity and persistence in pestering her older siblings, though.  She did everything in her considerable power to irritate them.  The fourth or fifth time that my son called for me to come get her I winced inside.  On the one hand, I had been working with him to call me rather than retaliating.  He was doing exactly what he was supposed to do when she wouldn't honor his boundaries.  On the other hand, being interrupted in a task drives me absolutely batty.  Could I just consider it natural consequences if he loses his cool and strikes back?, I wondered. With a sigh, I went to move a wriggling, screaming toddler.  Perhaps we all needed a break...

Recognizing that the more time we spent out of the house would mean less time for the kidlets to undo any cleaning we had already done, I made plans to meet Carlos for lunch.  I buckled the baby into her seat and turned around to pick up Elena.  She was grinning.  And smeared with mud.  No, actually, it was make up, just several shades darker than what I wear.  So was the carpet.  I don't have any idea where she got the stuff, but it would appear that an entire bottle of liquid makeup in a very dark shade was smeared over the carpet that Carlos had spent two hours shampooing the night before.  And did I mention that it was a waterproof makeup?

That was just yogurt, not makeup.  :)

A couple of years ago, I would have lost it.  I am getting better.  I did wail NOoooooooooooo! at the top of my lungs when I first saw it, but then I took several deep breaths (I was not hyperventilating.  Not really.).  I gently took her into the garage and told her to get in her seat while I grabbed the carpet cleaner and got ready to clean up the mess.  I also posted on Facebook, receiving some wonderfully calming, perspective-giving advice and empathy from my amazing friends.

25 minutes later, most of the make up was gone or at least faded.  I buckled Elena in her seat, thanked the older kids for playing with the baby and keeping her happy, and took off, letting Carlos know we were going to be late.  As I stopped before pulling out onto the main road, I looked back in the rear view mirror to make sure that Elena hadn't tried to pull her chest clip down.  To my horror, she tumbled halfway down.  Her seat straps were fine, but she had apparently unbuckled the belt so that her seat was loose while I was cleaning up the mess.  I am a stickler for carseat safety, and check regularly that their seats are secure.  I had just been in a hurry...what if...? Shudders.

My mom always ends every conversation with, "I love you.  Bye."  I asked her about it once when I was little, and she said that even though she wasn't really afraid that we would die while we were gone, just in case, she always wanted our last words to each other to have been, "I love you."  I picked up the habit, and while I don't look at it from a morbid fear or anything, I know that there are no guarantees.  Right now our dearest friends with a daughter a few days younger than Elena are scheduling her open heart surgery.  We believe she will be fine, but it has reminded me that this life is fleeting and every moment matters.

When we finally made it to meet Carlos after making sure her seat was securely installed, she insisted on sitting on my lap the whole time.  Afterward, we picked up some last minute items from the store (um, yeah, I hadn't even started cooking yet...).  I won't describe in detail the various mishaps that occurred between then and the party, the most spectacular of which involved Elena grabbing a 2 liter of pop and running with it, which then caused it to explode all over the floor.  At one point, a repairman was waiting for me to write a check while both little ones were in full meltdown mode and begging for leche (he used every cliche in the book, from "Are they all yours?" to "Boy, your sure have your hands full, don't you?".  Bless his heart.  To be fair, they probably seemed like more than four at the moment.).

I am just really slow on the uptake sometimes.  My little middle child has been a bit lost for quite sometime.  Ariana and Joel have an amazing relationship.  They are so close to each other that it is easy for them to exclude their little sister.  She tries so very hard to keep up with everything that they do, and yet it still isn't always enough.  Her baby sister is a baby, and so she often has to wait while I take care of the tiny one.  Looking back, it is clear how desperate for attention and belonging she has been. 

I turned down the stove, picked her up and snuggled with her.  She nursed, all the while patting my arm in relief.  We watched her favorite Yo Gabba Gabba episode about babies, and I sang her special little baby song to her.  We spent the next hour reconnecting.  Yeah, for a few seconds my mind screamed that I didn't have time for that, that I needed to be preparing for the party.  But one thing I learned from GCM is that family gets our best.  If we can't minister there when it counts, the rest doesn't matter too much.  She needed my presence right then, not after the party.

Carlos took the babies out for an hour once he got home, and the older kidlets and I did a whirlwind of cooking and cleaning.  I didn't get to dust and there were a couple of clutter spots.  On the plus side, however, the chili was the best yet (toasting ancho chiles adds incredible depth of flavor in a short time).  The party was a success, judging by the comments, laughter and amount of food consumed by the 40 college kids (who didn't seem to judge my housekeeping skills at all).   Parties are great.  So are the other activities and obligations we have as parents.  But none of them trumps being present with our loved ones.  The little moments do matter.  They add up to a lifetime of memories.

http://topofthetubes.com/video/VIDEO_E1Huy6_hlMNPq/Hunter-Revenge--Little-Babies

Impressions from the Petits Chefs

My kids have grown up in bookstores, and our family is mourning the closing of a couple in our area.  Our sorrow was tempered, however, by the awesome sales.  Yesterday we picked up a copy of Emeril's There's a Chef in my World: Recipes that Take You Places for 70% off.  Today, Ariana and Joel went through the book and picked out a couple of recipes.  Then Joel checked to see which ingredients we had already and which ones we needed to buy, and Ariana made a shopping list.  We headed to the store to purchase a few items, then they got to work on their menu: a sweet and smoky Chipotle Chili (our own recipe), cheesy Mexican Cornbread, and a fresh and cool Mango Lassi.

They diced peppers and sauteed veggies for the cornbread, and grated cheese.  Then Joel measured all the ingredients and added them to the cast iron skillet.  While it was baking, Ariana cooked the sausage for the chili (maple sausage is our secret ingredient--it adds a subtle sweet taste that matches well with the smokiness of the chipotles), added the beans and tomatoes and seasonings.  While it simmered, she prepared the lassi.  I was impressed by the timing.  The chili and lassi were finished just as the cornbread came out of the oven.  The only things I did were chop the jalapeño, since we didn't have gloves, and remove the cornbread from the oven. 

We have used kids' cookbooks in the past that were a disappointment--no real cooking at all, just arranging prepackaged ingredients.  I love Emeril's cookbooks for kids because they are real recipes that the whole family would eat, but the recipes are detailed enough for the kids to follow with minimal input from me and learn a lot about cooking.

The kids had a blast and are looking forward to cooking for us again.  Here are their impressions of the meal:

Ariana (7):

The cornbread was pretty good, but spicy.  I liked the way it looked.  The texture was good and it tasted yummy.  I love the flavor.  My favorite part of cooking it was chopping the sweet red pepper.

The chili was a little too saucy, but still good.  I liked the tomatoes and beans.  Opening the cans was fun.

The mango lassi was good.  The orange slice for the garnish made it look pretty.  The lassi helped me because the chili was spicy.  It cooled off my mouth.  I enjoyed running the blender.  The flavor of the lassi was like mangoes and really good.

Joel (5):
I didn't eat the cornbread.  The veggies smelled really yummy when I was cooking them.  It didn't smell good when it came out of the oven, though. It smelled like jalapeños and the flavor was yucky.  Making it was fun.  The part where I got to spread the butter and grating the cheese was my favorite part. 

I liked making the meat brown for the chili.  It was good.  I like cheese on it sometimes.  It was a little spicy, but not too spicy.  It was just right. 

The mango lassi was too lemony. [It did not contain any lemon.  Maybe he meant the orange?]

Elena was disappointed at not being allowed to chop, but she stirred and added ingredients.  She was not a huge fan of the cornbread, but enjoyed the chili and said that the lassi tasted like a smoothie.  She wants to do it all by herself next time. ;)

They all said that they really want to cook some more next time.  There is a recipe for an Oreo Peanut Butter Banana Pie that they were drooling over.  They also like the sound of his Old Fashioned Apple Pie.  Or maybe the Cinnamon-Walnut Scottish Shortbread.  Ariana wants to make edamame and a Croque Monsieur, and Joel likes the idea of smashing chicken for the Chicken Piccata.  They all sound good to me!

Adventure Seekers

Some golden afternoons imprint on your memory with indelible ink.  One of those for me was when I was about 10 years old.  My sister and I were at the park with some of our best friends in the world.  Our moms had dropped us off and were going to come back in a couple of hours, so we were free to explore.  There was a stream running through the park that was full of minnows.  It had been blocked into a few artificial waterfalls over a concrete path covered with moss.  I don't remember whether the prohibition against wading was explicit or implicit, but we decided that it would be more than worth the punishment to go splashing around.  It was.

Today, I took the kidlets to the same park, and found that the same stream was shallow enough to pose no terrible safety hazard.  With a grin, I invited the kidlets to get close to the water.  Their eyes popped and sparkled.  We spent the entire afternoon creating our own adventures there.

At first, the kids just crossed carefully on some rocks.  Then they found sticks and began to poke and swish them around.  Elena loved making ripples in the water and pretending to fish.  Ariana and Joel explored a little further and found a pipe that crossed the stream.  Such a perfect balance beam could not be ignored.  Quickly slipping off their shoes, they began making their way across. 

They kept looking up at me with questioning eyes, waiting for a "no".  It didn't come.  Each time they realized that I wasn't going to stop their adventures, their eyes lit up and they would start laughing with delight.

Of course, eventually, they impulse to wade was irresistible.  This time Joel winced as his pant legs started to get wet and looked over at me.  I asked him to come over and rolled up his pants.  He and Ariana chortled with joy as they squished the mud and moss between their toes. 

Amaya had her own adventures, eating leaves (well, trying to, but I spoiled her fun), playing with pebbles (didn't eat those, thank goodness!) and swinging.   Finally, Elena was enjoying nature so much that she decided to go au natural.  We left just before the undies were stripped off. 

It is so easy to say no to play that seems messy, muddy or just out of what we usually do.  But why?  This didn't even make extra laundry--I was going to have to wash their clothes anyway.  Yet so often our default is to veto the adventure, and that makes us miss out on so much.  I don't know if this afternoon will stick in my children's minds as much as the one did in mine from so many years ago.  I hope that there will be so many like this that it will be tough to remember just one.  So the kidlets and I are embarking on a new quest--to say yes, to enjoy the adventures in every golden afternoon.

The Petite Sous Chef--GD and younger siblings

This is from a few weeks ago when they interrupted their dress up play to make snowcream together.

I have shared in previous posts about giving my seven year old more responsibilities in the kitchen and taking her seriously.  This morning, she was making pancakes while I took care of the baby.  My two year old went into the kitchen to see what was going on and begged to help.  Now, despite (or because of) all of the experience I have had cooking with the kidlets, I get just how frustrating it can be.  Efficiency goes out the window (at least in the early stages).  It takes longer and there is more work involved supervising everyone else.  It is simpler to just do it yourself, you know?

So I expected that Ariana would tell Elena to do something else or try to gently distract her.  Instead, she paused and really looked at her little sister.  "You really want to help, don't you?"  "YES!" beamed the two year old.  "Well, the stove is very hot and you could get burned.  But I have a very important job you can do."  As she was talking, my seven year old quickly melted some butter in the microwave, and placed it next to the rack of pancakes she had just cooked.  Handing her little sister a pastry brush, she told her to paint all the pancakes with melted butter.  Elena was so pleased--how much more fun can a two year old have than that?!

After she finished, Ariana carefully instructed her in making pancakes, and let her put a couple of spoonfuls of batter in the pan.  Elena compared hers to Ariana's and said that she messed up.  Ariana lovingly reassured her that just because they were different sizes or shapes didn't mean that they weren't as good.  Elena's smile lit up again.  I just watched in awe at the wisdom and tenderness of my daughter towards her little sous chef. 

I struggle so hard to incorporate my convictions about how to treat my children.  Things like welcoming them into my plans when I am trying to get things done, really listening to them, giving them fun  opportunities to contribute in a meaningful way, gently encouraging instead of controlling and telling them how to "improve" upon their results.  These are lessons that I have to work at on a daily (hourly) basis.  And my seven year old seemed to do it effortlessly!  It reminded me that part of the reason I am working to treat my children with gentleness and respect is so that they will find it easier to treat their own children that way.

My Passionate Petite Chef

 I had an argument with my seven year old today.  I wanted her to get out her schoolbooks.  She dawdled.  She sighed.  I pushed and pressured.  She balked.  I threatened.  Not my finest hour, by any means.  Here I am trying to coerce her into learning, when I keep having to repeat my own lessons over and over!  I breathed.  I questioned and listened.  She burst out with what she really wanted to do.  Eyes glowing, she told me how much she really wanted to cook something.

The apron was a gift from her bisabuela. :)

Since she was two, my first born has been telling me she wants to be a chef.  This is probably in part because of my reliance on the Food Network when she was small.  The TV was often on as background noise (I know, I know), and it was one of the few channels that Carlos and I both enjoyed that was always age-appropriate for the little ones.  Before he was even two years old, she and Joelito were staging epic Iron Chef battles.

Furthermore, she comes from a long line of good cooks on both sides.  I was born in Puebla, which at least guarantees that I will enjoy good food.  My mother and both grandmothers were excellent cooks.  My adopted grandma from England loved to cook and loved to share that with me.  She always encouraged me to have fun and experiment.  My inlaws are from Mexico and Puerto Rico, and make fabulous food.

Ariana was diagnosed with food allergies as soon as she turned three.  We had to eliminate wheat, corn, eggs, dairy, peanuts, olives (and EVOO), and green beans.   I had to start cooking everything from scratch, because there really isn't much available when it comes to processed food that doesn't contain at least one of those allergens.  I was also appalled at how clueless most people were about food.  I would explain that she had a wheat allergy and they would insist that she could eat bread or pasta because it was white, not wheat.  Or that butter didn't count as dairy.  I wanted to make sure that she knew what was in food first hand from an early age.  So pretty much from the time she could stand on a chair, she (and later each of her siblings), has been helping me in the kitchen.

Today, after listening to her desire, I reminded myself that this is one of the reasons that we homeschool.  She went to the computer and began looking up culinary instruction videos.  She watched several on knife techniques and how to chop an onion.  We talked about the importance of holding her hand so that her knuckles are next to the knife, not her thumb or fingertips (thank you, Anthony Bourdain!).

Then she radiantly set about making her dish of choice, a curried chicken salad similar to the one at her favorite tea shoppe.  She pulled the chicken breasts from the freezer and thawed them.  She filled a pot 1/2 full of water, added the thawed chicken breasts and boiled them.  She drained the water, cleaned the chicken breasts and shredded them.  She chose all the extra ingredients, from poppy seeds to cilantro, and added them, thoughtfully considered then rejected the idea of raisins, tasting carefully to make sure the seasoning was just right.  Finally, she served the chicken salad on croissants.  I limited my role to that of a consultant, and let her do all the actual work.

They were good.  Really good.  In fact, Carlos wanted another one, but they were all gone!  This isn't unusual.  She made multiple dishes for Thanksgiving last year on her own, too, including a delicious corn bread dressing from scratch.  She makes desserts for us on a regular basis.  By the time she was five, she would go fire up the stove and make sincronizadas for herself and anyone else who wanted a snack. 

I think there is something in our culture that makes us want to treat children's passions with a knowing, indulgent smile and pat on the head for the sheer cuteness.  But we don't want to take them seriously right now.  We might agree that there is potential for the future, and that they have an aptitude or knack for something.  But their passions at this moment are often viewed as nothing more than frivolous play.

While the details of her future culinary career change from time to time, Ariana has been saying for the last five years that she wants to have her own restaurant (most likely a tea shoppe).  Today, as I watched her competence and pleasure, I realized that this is serious for her.  Regardless of what she may attempt in the future, this is her passion right now.   It isn't just cute to watch a barely-turned seven year old cook.  This is what she wants to do.  And instead of just indulging her in it, I am going to treat this as seriously as she does.

We agreed that from now on, she will be responsible for at least one family meal per week, and most likely an entire day's worth of meals.  We will collaborate on menu planning, she will help me purchase the ingredients, and on the days when she cooks, I will be her sous chef, limited to assisting in any way she needs, but that she will be the chef.

I am looking into culinary classes for children in our area, and plan to make sure that she is able to focus as much as she likes on cooking during our days.  I don't know what she will do in the future.  I am sure she will eat ;) but who knows whether she will ultimately choose to cook professionally.  However, regardless of what she chooses, I want her to know that I take her dreams and passions seriously, and that I have confidence in her.  She will be much more apt to believe that then if I preheat the oven for her future by taking her seriously right now.

Grace for Mami, Too

You know that place in sleep deprivation where you can feel yourself teetering on the cliff, with the sure knowledge that the tiniest push will send you crashing over the edge?  Of course you do--you are moms, right?  I was there last night.  I would go into all the events leading up to it, but I am too tired, and they aren't really important.

The baby was sobbing because she had been awakened too many times.  She is a total daddy's-girl during the day, but wouldn't settle at all to sleep, despite Carlos patiently walking.  The two year old was shrieking at the top of her lungs.  I was frustrated and near panic because she had been screaming for several minutes and I couldn't get her to tell me if she was hurting or what was wrong.

Outwardly, I remained calm, because I knew I would fall apart if I allowed the smallest crack.  Inwardly, I was shrieking along with the two year old, and crying out to God for help and grace.

Photo by JJ and Special K on Flickr

He used my children.  I felt hands start rubbing my back, going right to all the sore spots.  Healing and comfort poured through them.  A gentle voice began repeating, "Mami, I love you so, so much.  I am glad you are my mami.  I like you."  Encouragement and peace  reverberated through my soul.  For the next twenty minutes, my seven year old massaged my back and my five year old spoke sweet words to my heart.  They ministered God's grace to me in tangible ways that pulled me back from the precipice.  How did they know?  I didn't even ask for help, yet they gave me exactly what I needed.

I breathed, Elena passed gas audibly a few times and was fine (I am so glad it wasn't anything serious, but ouch--that can really be painful.  Might need to look into probiotics for her).  To further add a happy note into the nightmarish night, I clicked on my phone and saw that Sarah had added post 32 in The Restoration of All Things!  It was a really good one, and brought several smiles to my face.  We all got some much needed rest.

I know a lot of people talk about mommy-burnout and the constant giveathon of parenting.  Rarely do we hear stories of grace being lavished on us.  I am so grateful for the tenderness of my children.  I have always loved the expression, "Grace is for mamas, too."  I generally think of it as referring to God's forgiveness and the compassion of other parents.  Last night was a shower of extravagant grace from my children, and I am so grateful. I pray that the next time I am tempted to lose patience or to respond with anything other than kindness, that I will remember their example. 

Handsome is...

Joel (5) was talking to the baby and said that he thinks she could be a boy, except that she is too cute. I told him that he is a boy and he is very cute. He corrected me quickly. "No, I am not cute. But I am very handsome. Aldo [although] I am not so handsome that all of the girls in the town would be attracted to me--just half of dem. If dere were more, den I might have to get married and be part of a different family."

Oh, my. Not even sure where to start on that one.

A Sweet Thought

Photo by Tojosan

Thankfully, the puking plague seems to have been very short-lived.  By afternoon, the kids were feeling much better.  They began to get a little hungry.  Now, we pretty much allow the kidlets to eat what they want, aside from allergy issues.  However, I still give the obligatory parent speeches from time to time about healthy eating.  Apparently, Ariana (6) and Joel (4) have not only listened closely to my explanations about food, but added their own logical twist.

Ariana:  Mom, you know what we really need after all that vomiting?  We need probiotics to put some good bacteria back in our systems.  I think you need to take us out for frozen yogurt.

Joel:  Yes, and Mami? I want to get lots of candy on mine.  I know that the bad germs feed on the sugar in the candy, but that is my plan.  See, they will be so distracted while feeding on the sugar in the candy that the good guys can ambush them and beat them!

If they don't become nutritionists in the future, I think they both could have a career in negotiation.  :)

Yuck, yuck, yuck

Photo by Titanus

Before becoming a mother, I had no idea exactly how much exposure it entailed to bodily fluids.  I mean, I expected plenty of diaper changes, and knew that some degree of tummy upset was likely during childhood.  I just didn't realize that it would get on me.  Four kids later, I can't even guess at the number of times I have been peed on, pooped on and puked on (how is that for awful alliteration?).  I could also add generic spit up, leaking breastmilk, blood, sweat and tears, but that didn't fit with the alliteration. Forget mom-jeans--we should be wearing full haz-mat suits!

Anyway, the pukies hit our home last night, and I am too tired to come up with a thoughtful post right now, and since I am not sharing actual germs, wanted to share the misery follow the well-known advice to "write what you know".  However, between the older ones needing attention and care, and the little ones nursing non-stop (apparently trying to load up on antibodies--at least one was latched on all night long), my computer time is limited.  So, in the spirit of sharing, here are some older posts that seemed appropriate:

Eeewwww...gross!

Anything boys can do, girls can do better!

Even Murphy had Better Days

A birthday poop story

Potty Talk

Ay, mier...coles!

A True Princess

Yesterday, Elena was watching the Backyardigans episode where Tasha sings, "I Love Being a Princess".

The folks in my kingdom work hard everyday,
Then go home to their dark little huts.
Some say a Princess should live like her people,
But I reply, "What are you, nuts?"

(Complete lyrics available here: I Love Being a Princess)

Ariana fumed throughout the entire song. "That is *not* what a true princess is like. How can she be so self-centered?! She *should* live like her people--they are important, too! Doesn't she know that they are human beings, too?" And on and on she went. My little socialist. :D

This morning, we had breakfast just us and Amaya at Starbucks. She wanted to talk about Pan's Labyrinth. (Note: it is NOT a movie for children, IMO. Carlos edited pretty heavily when she saw it. As another aside, I was excited that Ariana's Spanish is good enough for her to understand it). Ariana described in detail all that Ofelia went through to become a true princess. She talked about how important it was to protect the innocent. A *real* princess would take care of those around her.

She hummed the haunting melody of the lullaby for me, and we talked about music.

She wanted to know why the stepfather valued his son more than the girl or his wife, which led to a discussion of gender in different cultures.

We talked about Jesus, who was innocent, dying for us. She pointed out that Ofelia was innocent, too, in that she didn't deserve death.

All in all, we touched on many tangled topics, and deep waters for a six year old. Yet she impressed me with her insight and awareness of so many different issues, and her strong internal values. As far as I am concerned, she is a true princess!

Save the Day

It began last night. Amaya was ominously fussy. Not anything scary, such as getting sick, just tummy bubbles and growth spurt nursing. She woke up every two hours to nurse, which is to be expected. Elena, being two and dealing with allergies, also woke up every two hours. She considerately alternated them with Amaya. Joel woke up at five AM when the alarm went off and wanted to come into our bed. Between them all, I did not get one hour without waking up to take care of one of them.

I woke up (the last time) groggy and with a headache. As I stumbled to the coffeepot, Ariana called out that she wanted snuggles. Knowing that I would be swarmed as soon as I went back to the bed, and that the baby needed a diaper change, I suggested that she come into the kitchen with me instead. Major six year old drama ensued. Elena was climbing everything in sight, Joel was upset because he wanted help with his game, and the baby did *not* want to be put down.

I knew that I was on the verge of losing it. I also know that the kids feed off my attitude, and the only way to keep the day from becoming a disaster was for me to somehow save it. So, I gulped down coffee and rounded the kids up for a day at the park. Once we were all safely in the van, I mentally patted myself on the back for recognizing and averting the total shipwreck of the day. At that moment, Elena vomited profusely all over herself and her seat.

I pulled over to clean her up as best as I could with a clean shirt and wipes. Elena is easily carsick, so I decided to keep going. After pulling into the left turn lane, I noticed it wasn't moving. Cars were whizzing by on the right too quickly to get out and change lanes. Joel was complaining that he was too cold, but I didn't want to turn off the AC and have the smell of vomit in a hot car provoke another round of puking. We spent a good fifteen minutes in that lane thanks to a stalled car. But I refused to be daunted! We finally made it to the park.

Despite some minor mishaps, the park was a lot of fun. We were there a few hours, most of which was spent in the sand pit. Elena had tremendous fun pouring sand all over herself over and over. Since she wasn't throwing it at anyone else, I let her go. She was absolutely filthy by the time we left, but she needed a bath anyway.

Once we were home, I turned on the sprinkler and let the kids loose in the backyard. I nursed and played with Amaya while they rinsed off the day's accumulation of grime. I was really pleased at how well the day was going. Sure, we had gotten off to a rough start, but look how much fun the afternoon had been!

Carlos called and asked if we wanted to come pick him up from work and go to a bookstore. I confidently told him that there was just enough time to have everyone dry off and get dressed and be there in time. As I went to tell Joel and Ariana, Joelito turned around with the hose in his hand, soaking my pants, which happened to be the only clean pair that fit me at the moment. We got inside and dry, and while I was looking for something to wear, Elena went climbing again. She is truly part monkey.

I came into the kitchen and heard an "Uh oh". She smiled nervously at me, the look of one who fears a reprimand but is hoping for the best. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out *what* she had smeared all over her face. She had been fingerpainting with something, but what? It looked black, like motor oil, but I couldn't imagine anything like that being accessible. She pulled her hands out from behind her back, and they, too were covered. So was the counter. So were the cabinets. So was our mail. She held out a jar of my super-duper ultra-concentrated food coloring gel. You know, the kind that you use because it would take so much liquid food coloring that it would water down whatever you are making.

I managed to get the worst of it rinsed off. She is still green, and I found green splotches in a variety of unexpected places, including my bra. ???? Thankfully, the carpet was spared. Somehow, we all got relatively presentable (except for Elena's green face and hands) and picked Carlos up on time. The bookstore was very nice, the kids had a great time and behaved well, I was able to read a little, and both babies fell sound asleep on the way home.

Saving the day sounds good, but boy, does it ever take persistence! This wasn't a *bad* day, just a normal one. I think of friends and family members who have to face far more daunting challenges every day with the health of loved ones, and am in awe at their ability to save each day, no matter how bad it seems to be. You are my heroes.

Showers of Blessings. And pecan shells.

Today was such a perfect day! After several days of hellacious heat, we were all going stir-crazy. This morning was beautiful and comparatively cool (double-digits instead of triple-digits), so we jumped in the van and headed to the park.

As we walked along the shaded entry, it sounded like it was raining. I looked up into the trees thinking we were getting a shower. Instead, I saw tons of squirrels, and was pelted with bits of shells from the pecans they were munching on. I've never seen so many at once! Elena and I both thought it was pretty funny, and were giggling together.

Ariana went to conquer the monkey bars, Joelito started burying himself in the sand box, Elena jumped into her favorite swing, and Amaya snuggled down in my wrap and took a nap. While I pushed Elena, the lady next to me struck up a conversation. Living in the buckle of the Bible Belt, we come across a lot of people who are unbalanced spiritually (and probably mentally), but everything she said was so encouraging. It was really sweet, and I felt very encouraged after she left.

Ariana, who had been endeavoring for months to master the monkey bars, crossed several times without hesitation. She was so proud of herself for sticking with it and managing to do it! Despite blisters on her hands when we left, she wore a huge smile. She also spent a lot of time watching over Elena as she explored.

Elena is usually the most intrepid of our little crew, but she kept stopping herself and saying, "Be careful! Don't fall!" today. I wasn't sure whether I should be pleased that she had internalized the idea or to regret saying it so often that she didn't have the confidence in herself to go ahead. Sigh--I think a continual part of motherhood is questioning my balance!

Joelito climbed unhesitatingly to the top of every structure in sight. A couple of times he wasn't sure how to get back down, but he made it successfully. All three stayed within the area I had told them to be in, played nicely with the other kids there, and left without complaining when it was time to go. I hear so frequently that children who are not spanked (let alone not punished!) are brats who terrorize everyone around them. I usually hesitate to use my own kids as examples, because there are certainly times when their behavior is not what it should be (generally because *my* behavior hasn't been what it should). However, the truth is that most of the time they are delightful, considerate, respectful and helpful kids. I really love being with them and taking them places because they keep it fun for everyone.

Once it got a bit too warm for comfort, we left the park and visited my beloved nephew and in laws. I am incredibly blessed in having a sister in law whom I would choose for a friend any day. She is an amazing mom and person in every way! We stopped for Mexican limonadas on the way home. There are always things that we might like to change, or times of stress and difficulty, but on days like today I feel like I've been soaking in showers of blessings. And pecan shells (I think I still have a few bits in my hair!).

Math is for girls

I adored biology, but didn't enjoy studying math or chemistry much. Apparently, my daughters are headed in a different direction, though. In the car yesterday, Ariana (6 years old) had a very happy conversation about negative numbers, the value of zero, chemical compounds, bacteria and viruses. Afterward, she told me that pathogenic microbiology might be interesting, but she loved math, and when she got older she really wanted to work in a laboratory with lots of chemicals. Then she told me in a frustrated tone that she couldn't decide which would be better--math or chemistry. I replied that she could study both, and that a good chemist also needed a strong foundation in mathematics. Her whole face lit up with pleasure at the thought!

Elena (not quite two) is also becoming interested in the meaning of numbers. Yesterday she asked for a piece of chocolate. Knowing that recently she has been requesting two of everything (one for each hand), I told her that she may have *one* piece of chocolate. Her face grew very intent as she caught my emphasis. Elena has never been one to hold back from boldly pursuing what she wants. After a moments of thought, she said, "Four? Five?" then paused, grinned confidently and shouted, "Thirteen!" (Despite my desire to encourage her, she only got one. We'll practice thirteen with grapes, peas, or pieces of cereal.) :)

The worst part of Hell

I admit that I have somewhat neglected my children's theological training on the topic of Hell. It really hasn't been a priority for me at their ages. Still, I am sure that they have had some exposure to the concept. This became clear this afternoon as I was trying to help sick little Elena fall asleep. I overheard Ariana imparting her full store of knowledge on the the Great Abyss to Joelito.

"Joel, Hell is really, really bad. You don't ever want to go there. For one thing, the Devil lives there, and it is scary. And I think there is fire everywhere. And it is bright red." Her voice dropped to a thrilling whisper. "But do you know the worst part of Hell?" Joelito's eyes grew wide with fright. "What?" he whispered back tremulously. In a voice of solemn dread, she whispered back, "The very worst part of Hell...is that there is no chocolate."

Joel was horror-stricken. "No chocolate? Not even a little bit?" Ariana shook her head sadly. "No, no chocolate. Not ever." Joelito shut his eyes tight and prayed fervently, "Dear Jesus, please take me to heaven with you. Don't ever let me go to Hell!"

Even Murphy had better days...

Today has been one of those proverbial days where just about everything that could go wrong, has. In my experience, these days rarely come out of the blue when you are rested, healthy and well-able to cope with them. Instead, they cannily attack when you are already down. In our case, I haven't gotten more than three hours of sleep--none of them consecutive--any night this week. Add to that first-trimester-tiredness and I've been unspeakably exhausted.

The kidlets haven't gotten much more sleep than I, and were awake at 6:30 this morning despite being up most of the night. The toddler hasn't been feeling well at all, and has been screaming inconsolably every night. Her doc checked her out and couldn't find anything major. I'm guessing a combination of teething, minor virus and allergies. I have a hard time hearing her scream and not being able to comfort her, but it is terrible for my five year old, and she ultimately joins in because it hurts her so much to see her baby sister cry.

As my eldest and I were fixing breakfast, waves of nausea hit. Oh, no. Not good. Well, OK, I know that it actually *is* very good for the baby, but I was really hoping for another week or two before it hit. Guess not.

Aside from doing schoolwork with the eldest while simultaneously keeping an eye on my three year old and toddler, I had a bunch of tests that need to be graded before class this afternoon. Stomach rolling, I try to focus. I am overwhelmed as it is, and we're having another child?! I *know* that this baby is a gift from God, but today is making me wonder a bit about the timing.

Taking advantage of my preoccupation, my three year old started throwing some things that were not meant to be thrown. I placed the partially graded exams up out of reach and went to deal with him, and his older sister who was firmly on his side. A few seconds later, an ominous sound registers. Crinkling paper and the sound of pouring. I look up in a panic. It is worse than I imagined. Far worse.

During the split second when my attention was diverted, the toddler accomplished an amazing number of things. She climbed up and got ahold of the exams and threw them onto the floor so she could dance on them. OK, so they're a little rumpled; I can smooth them out...but. Wait. The pouring sound? Her diaper is off and she has peed on the exams!!! NO. No, no, no. How on earth do I explain this? Er, sorry. My daughter mistook your exam for kitty litter...

I dash over to try to rescue any unsoiled exams. The baby gives me her best crinkle-nosed grin and proudly announces, "Peepee, mami!" Why, yes, I see that. Maybe I'll look back on this in delight over her emerging potty-learning skills. Right now, I am horrified. Fortunately only one exam is wet. I'll tell the student it was simply misplaced. No need to specify that that misplacement involved body fluids...

I scoop up my toddler, make sure that she is securely diapered (yeah, a little late for that) then went to check on everybody else. All OK. Sigh of relief. Then the little one comes back up and I notice that her face is full of welts. Hives all over her face and neck. Oh, no. Not again. I remember our ER run from a previous reaction when neither Benedryl or prednisone helped with the hives. Trying not to panic, I grab the Benedryl, which she loathes, and try to gently force it down. Finally, I've got most of the dose in her mouth and only a small amount in her hair and clothes (how does she know to keep her mouth clamped shut from such an early age?).

She's whimpering and asking for leche, so I start to nurse her. Now, my decision to breastfeed throughout pregnancy is based on simple risk/benefit ratios. I think that it is much better for the kids, and I am too tired to wean, anyway. However, the breast tenderness from early pregnancy combined with her teething make it feel as if I'm being gnawed on by some type of sandpaper monster. Owwww! I know it gets better or I wouldn't stick it out--I'm no martyr--but this isn't making the day better right now.

Thank God, she falls asleep quickly. I watch her closely for signs of further allergic reaction, not daring to put her down lest she wake up or get into whatever it was that caused the reaction in the first place. While I am preoccupied (are you noticing a trend here?) the older two decide to go into the kitchen and cook.

After weighing the options, I decide I would rather them do that than get involved in something else. As I watch from a distance, flour, a scoop of salt, a hefty dash of baking powder and some cinnamon are poured into a bowl. "Let's taste it!" Horrified grimaces. "It needs vanilla, but I don't see it" That is because it is up on top of the refrigerator out of reach of junior chefs. "Ooooh, look! I found sprinkles!" Vigorous shaking. "Wow. It is purple now." "Let's add more!"

Two containers of sugar sprinkles later... Apparently, the sugar helped. Subsequent taste-tests are all smiles. My stomach is heaving from the mere thought, but at least there are no smells. All the dyes from the colored sprinkles can't be good for them, but I am reasonably sure that they aren't going to eat enough to be a big deal.

It isn't even noon yet. Dear God, please help. Once my husband arrives, I dash around madly to get ready for class (normally, I'm ready to walk out the door, but today...). Notice that the slacks that previously required a belt fit just right. Isn't it a little early to be gaining weight? Make to school with a few minutes to spare. As I walk towards the building, arms full of books and papers, I realize that I was mistaken about the fit of the pants. They are drooping perilously lower with each step. Of course, my parking spot isn't close at all, and my hands are too full to hitch up the pants. I grit my teeth and try to take giant steps (Mother, may I?) to keep from being indecent and pretend not to notice the bemused glances of the rest of the people walking into school.

Finally, I am able to set my things down and tug on the sagging pants. It could have been worse--my top was long enough to prevent any inadvertent plumber's crack. If I stay seated, maybe they won't droop any more... Except that today is their oral midterm, so I'll be walking around with each student while administering individual exams. Oh, joy.

Is it the weekend yet?

Independence Day

I've ranted before about the absurd and unhealthy obsession in the US that attempts to force independence from infancy. However, it is exciting to see child-initiated steps toward competence and achievement.

Ariana has been saying since she was two or three that she wants to be a chef. Last night, she wanted to exercise her culinary abilities by herself. She went and got the cutting board and a knife, and diced an onion. She put it in the pan, turned it on and began to saute it. As any cook knows, seasoning is of utmost importance, so she had Joelito collaborate. They added salt and pepper, and Joel threw in a good amount of rosemary and some red sugar sprinkles for color. (It would not have occurred to me to add sugar sprinkles, but the color was very nice, and the sugar helped the onions caramelize).

At this point, she came to me for help. I could tell that she wanted to finish the project on her own, so I logged her in to me favorite message board and turned her loose. I had explained before that one of the safety precautions we take on the Internet is using a pretend name. She promptly suggested Caramel (she has been very involved in her own role-playing game based on Candyland, and that is her favorite alter-ego). I thought that Caramel was pretty cute for the daughter of Dulce de leche. :)

She wrote a post introducing herself and requesting help with recipes (her spelling was a little inconsistent--I think it usually came out as "recepes") for onions and rosemary. She was so excited to see the replies! She read them aloud to me and Ooohed and Ahhhed over each one. She also wrote love notes to the posters who responded and asked them to please be her freind (sic). I intercepted her in mid-post as she thanked her new friends and invited them to our house, complete with address (which prompted further discussion about anonymity online).

After thinking about which recipes would work with the ingredients on hand and our allergens, she decided to add butter, garlic and potatoes to the onion-rosemary mixture. Carlos had been a bit dubious about the concoction early on (or perhaps just skeptical of the sprinkles?), but he couldn't believe how delicious it was once she finished it. It was really, really good!

Best of all was seeing how confident and happy my little girl was with her new cooking prowess. Despite my crunchy tendencies, I'm not fully into the while Continuum Concept thing. I found it fascinating, and agree to a point, but I am still too uptight to give it free reign. I'm sure some people are raising their eyebrows at the idea of letting a five year old use a knife and stove--I will say that we are firm about it being under supervision. But who knows? Maybe a decade or two from know, she will be graduating from culinary school and look back at the delight, creativity, self-reliance and independence she felt last night.

Today she wants to help me with meal planning and grocery shopping so that we will have everything we need for her next meal. :)