Not-the-Mama!

Perhaps you are familiar with the sitcom Dionosaurs, which aired in the early 1990s. Since it was Jim Henson's final project (he was working on it up until his death, but died before it went into production), I was a fan from the start (Jim Henson was one of my childhood heroes). The show chronicles the lives of a family of anthropomorphic dinosaurs, which includes a mom, dad, son, daughter and baby. Throughout the show, the baby dinosaur (known simply as "Baby," if my memory serves), commonly refers to his father as "Not-the-Mama!" Though I hadn't thought of this show in the nearly 20 years since I last watched it, over the past couple of months this phrase, "not-the-mama!" has occasionally been ringing in my ears.

Leo has reached a new stage in his development. At 8 months old, he no longer allows himself to be passed from person to person, seemingly oblivious (or at least indifferent and willing), as he did in his first several months. He only smiles readily for familiar people (he used to smile at everyone, everywhere we went), and he often buries his head in my shirt when strangers talk to him. Most significantly, he has developed object permanence. He knows that objects exist even when he can't see them. And he knows that his Mama exists even when he can't see her. This last one is what's often leaving me with a feeling of "not-the-mama!, not-the-mama!, not-the-mama!" as Leo crawls around the house, whimpering, in search of his other half. When she comes into the room, and I'm holding him, he flaps his arms and kicks his legs with such an uncensored enthusiasm. And then he reaches for her, grasping at the air, nuzzling into her bosom once he's finally got her. I sometimes feel a bit dejected. But for the most part, this love affair between my baby and my wife just makes me smile.

I decided to sign up for a local music class with Leo, and it's been wonderful. I took music classes with the other kids when they were little (though not this little), mostly just to break up the monotony of my stay-at-home-mama days. But it's different with Leo. It feels important. Not because of the music exposure (I'm certainly not concerned about that), or really for any reason relating to Leo's development. Rather, it feels important for me to be his in-public mama, to get validation from strangers--and the other parents in the class--who see me simply as Leo's mom. To be his mom without qualifiers. To be the one who he crawls to when he feels suddenly shy. The one he checks in with, and seems to ask, eyes wide with amazement, "is this really happening?" ("am I really getting to bang my very own rhythm stick while I suck on another one?").

Mostly, though, I am content to be Not-the-Mama! I am getting increasingly comfortable in my new role, in this new way of mothering a baby. That said, I admit that I sometimes feel more like a Papa than I ever thought I would. I come home from work and get my hands on the baby and feel inclined to toss him in the air (and in my head I think, "Papa?").


I tickle him and make him laugh and hold him upside down (he loves that), and feel exceptionally more playful with him than I remember being with the other kids as babies ("Papa?"). Which is not to say that I didn't also do these things with them, but it wasn't one of my main ways of interacting with them.


It's fascinating to me, really. I never imagined that having a pregnant wife, and then parenting the baby who my wife gave birth to, would make me feel so identified with men. The other day I was working at Cradle and a woman and man came in together with a brand new--12 days old--baby. The mom left the baby with the man and went into the bathroom to try on a nursing bra. I found myself looking at this new papa in such a different light than I would have, pre-Leo.

"How has all of this been for you?" I asked, "how are you feeling?"

The man blushed a little and said, "well, I'm fine, but, um . . . this actually isn't my baby. I'm the proud uncle."

I find myself so eager to connect with the other non-gestational parents in my life, to compare experiences and validate feelings. When Leo was first born, I really struggled to accept my new role. But I soon learned to focus on enjoying the experience of mothering Leo for all that it is, rather than obsessing over what it isn't. Now, eight months into it, I find myself wanting to really celebrate my NGP status. I want to help other NGPs--lesbians and papas alike--to enjoy their parenting roles as much as I am enjoying mine.

Because for every Not-the-Mama! moment, there is an equal and opposite moment--a hug or a love-filled grin from the baby--that feels somehow more special for the fact that our relationship is lacking in biological connection. Because I am his mother not because I gestated him or birthed him, but simply because I've mothered him. I've had to work to deserve the title of Leo's mom. And I've earned it.

I love this picture because in some ways it looks
like a picture of Lena and me.
Look what we've made.
And they really love each other.

Dreams Do Come True

The post below is a repeat of a post that I wrote almost a year ago, but that I was reminded of the other day. A parent from the kids' school mentioned to me in passing that whenever she goes by our new house, she's struck by how "happy" it looks. Which, of course, made me smile, and think of my love-note-dream, and how this cute little house we're now living in really is just exactly the house I was dreaming of all those years ago.

_________________________________________________________

Originally posted 3.3.09

A love note to Lena, circa 2001
(now hanging on the wall in our office):

Some images from the past year:

Capture the Baby

The other day, while Luke, Jaz and I were busy working on writing a new song for our outgoing voice mail message (if you know our phone number, you should definitely call and have a listen . . . assuming we don't answer the phone before the voice mail picks up, which is probably a pretty safe assumption), Zeb and Leo were busy playing on the living room floor.

My musical genius (the song is to the tune of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," and the lyrics convey that we can't come to the phone and that the caller should leave a message) was interrupted by Lukas exclaiming, "Zeben! What are you doing?!"

I looked up from my guitar to this scene:


Zeben, perched atop an upside-down laundry basket. Not such a big deal, right? No need for alarm. No reason to interrupt musical genius. But wait. What is that moving underneath the basket?

Oh. That would be my baby. Captured.

Luckily, Leo thought this game of capture the baby was just as fun and thrilling as his 3-year-old brother did. He was smiling and laughing from inside his cage, as if he was totally in on the plan.


So I saw no reason to intervene, and after snapping a few photos, I went right back to music making. Though I did keep one bit of an eye on my little cat and mouse, just to make sure that Zeben would set Leo free eventually. And, of course, he did.

Best friends, these two.

Zeb and Leo, sharing the kitchen swing
December 2009

Seven Times Around the Sun

On Thursday we celebrated Lukas and Jasper's seventh birthday, along with the fact that it has now been 7 years since Lena and I spent a weekend alone together (well the latter part was maybe not so much a celebration as it was an acknowledgment). In recent years we've really tried to tone down the birthday hoopla, striking to find a middle ground between making the day ordinary and extraordinary. Jaz takes this all in stride, but Luke--our family elephant--remembers the days of birthday parties (plural as in more than one per birthday), a pile of presents and high levels of excitement. Much of the birthday this year was spent consoling Lukas about the lack of "specialness," and trying to help him to appreciate his birthday for what it was.

Two brand new seven-year-olds:

Luke and Jaz, February 2010

A large portion of the celebration this year involved preparing sweet treats. Both Jaz and Luke chose to bring carrot cupcakes in to school on their birthday (Luke requested that his be gluten-free with frosting, while Jaz preferred gluten-full without frosting). Because Luke and Jaz are in different first grade classrooms (at the same school), this meant that we had to make 48 cupcakes. Or rather, that I had to make 48 cupcakes. That said, I did have some help in the carrot-prep department.

Lukas peeled the carrots and chopped the tops off . . .

. . . and then handed the ready-for-shredding carrots to Jaz.

Jaz was in charge of shredding the carrots via the food processor.

Hours after the kids had gone to bed, the cupcakes were finally finished. A pair of very pleased birthday boys posed with their birthday snacks the next morning.

Each seven-year-old also required his own cake for the birthday dinner (which we shared with family and a few family friends . . . hoping to hold off on a "kid party" for as long as possible). Luke picked an ice cream cake (made with his favorite locally-made flavor: burnt sugar 'n butter), and Jaz chose our family standard of carrot cake (with cream cheese frosting on the side, per request). I continued the tradition of topping each cake with a wooden Ostheimer figure (we are slowly but surely building a collection); this year it was a walrus for Lukas and a tiger for Jaz. We realized at the last minute that we didn't have quite enough birthday candles (we could only find 10), so I placed--with mixed results--the 5 candles-per-kid in the shape of a "7" on each cake.


There was definitely some initial talk along the lines of "what? Only five candles?" But the excitement of the cakes quickly overruled any candle disappointment.

Thinking about what to wish for . . .

. . . and blowing with all of their might.

I love how Luke's eyes are on Jaz's candles . . .

Six years earlier:

Jaz and Luke on their first birthday

I had a bit of a hard time deciding what to gift the boys with for their birthday this year. I knew that I wanted to stay away from toys (more on that soon), and was hoping to think of something activity-related. I really want to set up a kid-friendly wood-working table (with kid-sized tools), theorizing that my own passion for working with wood will transfer to Luke and Jaz (and knowing that they enjoy anything that Lena or I are excited to do with them), but I haven't quite figured out where it will fit in our current house lay-out. I ended up catching the idea for their gift from my current book obsession (Simplicity Parenting), and put together a "fort making kit" that includes various lengths of clothesline, 100 clothespins and several flat sheets. I screwed eye hooks into several locations in the kids' room, providing anchor points for the clothesline (which the sheets are then draped over, creating cozy spaces underneath). After an initially lukewarm reaction, I helped them make the first fort and then Luke and Jaz both declared it a most excellent gift. Lena got each boy a rock-climbing harness and is planning to take them to the climbing gym a few times this winter and then to some of her favorite outdoor rock faces this spring. The kids are very excited.

At bedtime, once all the fun was over, Lukas had a bit of a meltdown and grumbled over the fact that all of his friends at school get lots of birthday presents and get to invite their friends to big birthday parties. I decided to begin what I hope will become a lasting tradition, in an attempt to help the kids mark their birthday in a more introspective way. I tried to impress upon Lukas (and Jasper) that birthdays are about celebrating a person's birth and existence, and also about taking the time to reflect on the past year and anticipate the year to come. I asked the boys to dictate to me their wishes for the coming year, their favorite thing(s) about being 6, and how they imagine themselves a year from now, on their eighth birthday. I sealed their responses into two, new envelopes, marked them "do not open until February 18, 2011," and put them in a safe keeping spot. The kids loved this activity and it really worked to shift their focus from what their birthday wasn't to what the next year--the year of being seven--could and would be.

Luke's wishes for the coming year:

- to go to an aquarium
- to go to New York City and see "the museum"
- to get at least an orange belt in Kung Fu*

Jaz's wishes:

- to go to California
- to get to the green belt level in Kung Fu*
- to grow at least 5 freckles

*No, the boys have never taken Kung Fu classes before, but apparently I need to look into it!

Lena and I were both exhausted by the end of the day--though not too tired to plan and then host an "after party" the following night (to finish of the remaining cake and alcohol)--and agreed that we are both quite happy with our current way of "doing" birthdays and feel like the kids are beginning to accept the new traditions as well. I can't really understand how our little babies grew to be these seven-year-old people, and it seems we are truly in uncharted territory now (since neither of us has had much experience with the 7-14-year-old crowd). So far, so good: I am--perhaps surprisingly--really enjoying the kids' ever-increasing independence and responsibility, truly looking forward to what this eighth year of mothering has in store for us all.

It's Awesome

Luke, Jaz and Zeb had a little mini-vacation from school this week (they had Monday and Tuesday off), and it just so happened to coincide with my finally getting around to starting the book, Simplicity Parenting. I have been meaning to read this book for quite some time, not only due to the intriguing title, but also because of the rave reviews it has received. I am typically a very fast reader, but I am only slowly making my way through this one. It's not that it doesn't flow well or that it's a hard sell. On the contrary, I find myself wanting to absorb each and every sentence. It's not the kind of book that I can read while I'm changing a diaper at the same time. It deserves my full attention, even if it doesn't require it. Thus, I've only managed to read the first couple chapters of Simplicity Parenting thus far, but I am enjoying it very much. I have already been inspired to make change in our family. Firstly, I decided to put away the dvd player for a while, if not forever (we don't have a TV, but we have a small, portable dvd player which is where the kids watch movies), something I had been considering doing before picking up Simplicity Parenting. But reading the book confirmed in my mind that it was time to take a media break. It's often around this time of year that I feel the need to cut back the kids' movie watching since they get into a habit of watching more during the December break from school, and in response to the dreary and bitterly cold weather of January and February, and their self-regulating skills begin to falter.

The issue is that Lukas loves movies. He would really like to watch movies all day long. At times he will claim that watching movies is the only thing he likes to do (of course this is not true). While watching just one movie can temporarily seem to lift Luke to a place of extreme joy, the post-movie letdown generally leaves him in an even worse state than he was in when I felt prompted to suggest, "why don't you just go watch a movie?" Tomorrow the dvd player will disappear for at least a month or so--a plan that Lukas has agreed to without struggle--and I thought that I ought to try and wean him down gradually over the mini-vacation (since he'd grown accustomed to watching something nearly every day), preparing him (and myself) for what was to come. So when Luke asked if he could watch a movie on Monday morning, I said "why don't you plan on watching a movie tomorrow morning; we're not watching any movies today." That's when things started to go bad.

Several hours of grumpy and growling Lukas later, when our friend Meg emailed our potluck listserve to say that she was bringing salad--with lettuce imported from California--to our potluck that night (because imported salad tastes like heaven right about now, while the local root vegetables are starting to taste like rubber), I replied saying that I wasn't sure what we were bringing yet, but that I was seriously considering exporting Lukas to California. A few minutes later, the phone rang and it was Meg, calling to save the day and invite Lukas along on a pet store errand. Luke perked right up at the news and happily bounded out the door when Meg--and her two daughters, Aviva and Liesl--arrived to pick him up.

I thought about how I've realized that as a mother, if I'm feeling grumpy and out-of-sorts, the solution is often to head over to a friend's house or have some friends over to ours, and I really should keep this in mind when the kids are grumpy as well. A little time with some non-sibling peers can switch their moods instantly. When they returned from the pet store, Meg stayed for a while and the kids headed out to the backyard to play (an option that I can honestly forget about in the midst of this never-ending cold). Luke, Jaz and Aviva ended up spending quite some time building a fort out of the branches that our huge hemlock (which is, sadly, dying due to a Hemlock Wooly Adelgid infestation) lost over the winter. Lukas came running inside, exclaiming, "Mom, you have to come see this! It's awesome!"

Lukas crouching in the fort's entrance

Jaz doing some roof work

The kids knew that I would appreciate the fort's chimney,
woodstove-lover that I am

Luke inside the fort

Jaz drinking hot cocoa in the fort

Aviva and the big red mug

Chocolate Face
(when I showed Aviva this picture, right after I took it, she said,
"oh good! Now I know where to lick!")

The kids were eager for me to pick my favorite part of the fort, which was, of course, impossible. My favorite part was really the subtle pride that Luke and Jaz showed for their creation. It reminded me of the childhood I envisioned for them before they were even born (and that Simplicity Parenting is motivating me to reclaim), and it was absolutely awesome.

So now we move forward, minus the dvd player, with a newfound appreciation for our backyard and our awesome friends who know just exactly how to help, working our way towards a simpler childhood. Optimistic and energized.

Playful Posts I Could Have Written

So it turns out that restricting myself to blog about only one thing for a week is kind of boring for me. I am no longer feeling inspired to blog specifically about playful parenting (though I admit that making myself think and write about it this past week has definitely helped me to BE a more playful parent). That said, there are a few more posts that I was going to write, and I feel some sort of obligation to at least mention their would-be content.

1. The Bedtime Lady aka "Multiple Personality Disorder Parenting"

My sister Fiona commented on this post, that she hoped I would include stories about the pizza lady and the corn muffin lady in my tales of playful parenting, assuming that those ladies existed for my kids. The pizza lady and the corn muffin lady were both characters who I used to pretend to be when Fiona and I were living in Vermont (I was 16, she was 13). It was mostly just a distraction from our dreadfully boring existence, but I think I managed to entertain both of us fairly well (the pizza lady made REAL pizza, the corn muffin lady made REAL corn muffins, both ladies felt quite passionate about their work and liked to belittle Fiona for her ignorance in the kitchen). The pizza lady and the corn muffin lady have not yet introduced themselves to Luke, Jaz, Zeb and Leo, but their sister, The Bedtime Lady, used to visit quite a bit.

Basically, I realized that Luke and Jaz (at the time Zeb was just a baby) were having a very hard time listening to me, their mom, at bedtime. But they were happy to listen to me, pretending to be The Bedtime Lady, instead. The Bedtime Lady is a magical woman whose job is to fly around from house to house, putting children to bed. She has a strong accent, and is often mixed up about bedtime routines (i.e. she puts pajama shirts on legs, attempts to brush teeth using a tube of toothpaste rather than a tooth brush, and reads books from back to front). She also has a terrible memory and can never remember anyone's correct name (referring to the kids "Rufus and Hector" one minute and "Marcus and Sebastian" the next). The Bedtime Lady was so good at getting the kids to bed that she came every night for quite some time (until the kids started requesting "Mom" at bedtime, and the real me was happy to step in. These days, we generally only call on The Bedtime Lady in desperate times . . . assuming we can find it within ourselves to shell out the dough (aka playfulness) to hire her.

Likewise, The Bike Lady used to bike the kids to school in the morning (via bakfiets) on days when the kids were feeling especially resistant to our chosen mode of transportation. The Bike Lady is incredibly competitive and tries to pass all of the other bikers on the bike path (but since she's riding the bakfiets, she usually fails, much to her great dismay). The kids think she's hilarious.

And Stacey, the teenage baby-sitter, used to take the kids grocery shopping on the days when I just couldn't seem to manage all of the children in the store myself. Stacey doesn't know where any of the things our family likes to buy are kept (so the kids have to direct her around the store), speaks with a valley girl accent, and has no idea about the proper care of babies (i.e. she tries to put itty bitty babies in the grocery cart and then offers to feed them things like ice cream and cookies when they fuss! Luckily, Luke and Jaz are there to help teach her how things are done). Stacey has embarrassed me from time to time--her appearances are generally quite public--but a little embarrassment can be worth it for happy kids and bags full of groceries.

2. Life is a Musical

I do not have a good singing voice, but my kids don't know that. They love it when I sing (usually, as long as I'm not too loud). They especially love it when I sing silly, rhyming songs about what we're doing in that moment (or what we're going to do next). Sometimes I use the tune to a song we all know, and sometimes I just make up the tune, and sometimes there's no tune at all.

Dancing is almost equally effective as singing. There is something called a "happy dance," that looks like a cross between bad dancing and bad cheer leading that fills the kids' eyes with wonder. It's very enthusiastic and may lead to pulled muscles, and feelings of regret hours later. The kids love it.

3. Detectives on the Loose

Over the years, we have come up with a few versions of the basic "I Spy" game. The basic version, in case you are not familiar, involves saying, "I spy with my little eye something _____ [insert color of choice]," and then everyone has to guess what you see. Similar variations include spying shapes, letters and numbers. Sometimes we change the format slightly and I turn the kids into shape (or letter, or number, or word) detectives, and they have to, for example, count how many circles they can see in the post office (while I wait in line for a bazillion hours . . . our local post office is a waiting nightmare). Or the letter detectives might have to find a bizarre letter, like "Q" or "Z." The number detectives are occasionally asked to do some basic math, adding up the first five numbers they find in any given area. These are all great games for times when you might otherwise find yourself "hushing" your kids and willing time to move faster.

4. Bunny, Fox, Wolf

Lena learned this technique from her very own playful parents. When wiping off the kids faces with a wet cloth, post messy-meal, you ask, "do you want the bunny, the fox, or the wolf?" The bunny does little, tentative, dabbing wipes. The fox is a little more aggressive, but still rather dainty. And the wolf just eats the whole face up at once. This game turned an despised daily (sometimes 3 or 4 times daily) necessity into a easy, fun, playful time. And the thoughts behind it can be applied to all sorts of required grooming tasks. For instance, when getting a kid's hair wet in the bath: "do you want the rain, waterfall, or ocean wave?" It gives kids control AND disguises a potentially less-pleasant requirement as a game.

* * * * * * * *

Surely there will be more playful parenting to come in this space, but I'm going to leave it at this for now since there are so many other things I've been itching to write about. I'd still love to hear more of YOUR playful parenting stories. I, for one, can always use new ideas and inspiration.

This may look like playful parenting in action,
but I assure you it was NOT my idea
Luke and Jaz at 2.5, naked in the leaves

Parenting with Puppets

I've always had a thing for puppets. Ever since Sesame Street. In fifth grade we got to choose a famous person to write a biography about, and I chose Jim Henson (creator of the muppets). I'm not exactly sure what it is about puppets that I find so intriguing, but I think it's something about the way they come alive and seem so real and separate from their puppeteers. Puppets run rampant through all sorts of television programming for young children because little kids find them pretty intriguing as well (oh the things I have in common with young children, they are many . . . you don't want to see me hungry).

As much as I've always had a fondness for puppets, I didn't discover them as a parenting tool until Luke and Jaz were three years old. That's when Pouch came on the scene. We were living in the hilltowns at that point, about 30 minutes (by car) from our current downtown, and we spent a good portion of each day driving. Lena had given me Pouch--originally designed to be a coin pouch--to help me deal with the nightmare situation of coins in my car (I usually put them in the door handle and the cup holders). But Pouch sat neglected, beside me in the storage compartment of the driver's side door for many months. I really wish that I could provide some visual reference for how Pouch worked exactly, but our current Pouch (Pouch the fourth, I believe) went missing in our most recent move and our usual supplier (an artisan gallery in town) is all out of Pouches at the moment. Basically, Pouch is shaped like a clam shell, and opens by squeezing at the corners of the opening (or mouth). Squeezing and releasing causes the "mouth" to open and shut. I discovered this one drive, and then, in a moment of desperation when Luke and Jaz were on the verge of falling asleep (at this point, them falling asleep--even for a few minutes--in the car in the afternoon meant that bedtime would be delayed for several hours), I held Pouch up where the kids could see him, and Pouch started talking. Luke and Jaz stayed awake for the rest of the drive, and that was the beginning of an amazing friendship (and I got really good at driving with one hand and "pouching" with the other).

One day when I was in a waiting room with the kids, I suddenly wished I had thought to bring Pouch with me (Pouch, as a rule, generally lived in the car until Zeben came along and frequently insisted on bringing him into the house, which is why he's now lost). And then I wondered if maybe just my plain old hand could do the same thing. And thus, Hand was born. Hand works just as a hand would inside of a puppet, and the odd thing is that the kids still manage to see Hand as so much more than a hand despite the lack of costume. The voice is enough. Hand's twin, Handy (you may notice that my children are completely lacking in creativity when it comes to the naming of inanimate--or, I suppose, occasionally animate--objects) has also been known to show up and start talking to the kids when they're not listening to me, Mom (a la "talk to the hand, cuz the rest ain't listening," except I guess it's more like, "talk to the hand cuz you're not listening to the rest"). Why are my children so much more likely to listen to Hand or Handy or Pouch than their regular mother? I think the shift just catches their attention in a different way. And sometimes, it's almost like they forget I'm even there.

We do have some real puppets as well. I'm a huge fan of the Folkmanis line, and over the years we have collected a few special creatures (all with hugely original names, of course). Zeb is currently sleeping nightly with his pal, "Snailey." A snail puppet? Brilliant. Snailey is an incredibly easy way to get Zeben out of a belligerent state. The video below shows a small conversation between Zeb and Snailey, after Zeb had been moping and moaning and melting for about 1/2 an hour (it is hard for him in the afternoons when he's home, waiting for Luke and Jaz to be done with school, and often refusing to nap). You can see how quickly Zeben's mood shifts once Snailey comes to life.



I don't think that Puppets as a playful parenting tool will be as long-lasting as, say, story telling. Zeben's three-year-old eyes light up when I pull out a Puppet, but already Luke and Jaz are a little more likely to just roll their eyes when a puppet first appears (though I can usually still win them over within a couple of minutes). But for toddlers and preschoolers, puppets are simply fabulous. A little kid will often take an instruction from a Puppet when he or she won't even consider listening to the same words otherwise. And when you're on the phone, and can't talk, a puppet can still play with your kid, with very little adult mental involvement required.

Lena didn't know that I was trying to document "the puppets in our life" when I took these pictures of her talking on the phone the other day. She did not speak to Zeben at all, but still managed to fully engage him--with the help of Turtle--while she finished her conversation.


I'm working on a way to store and display our puppet collection in our new house, but I wonder if I will miss having them just strewn about everywhere, easy to pick up and use when the need arises. Perhaps I should make a bit of puppet storage for every room, fire extinguishers of a different sort. Not that I have to worry about misplacing my hands, of course. Useful little guys that they are.

Zeben and Sealie, my favorite folkmanis puppet

Once Upon a Time

All kids love stories. Mine are no exception. I think it was the summer after Luke and Jaz turned one that I first discovered that the best kind of story was the kind that I told them. Don't get me wrong, we have been blessed with children who love to be read to--books of any kind, really--pretty much anytime, anywhere (and trust me that this is a blessing in our house of actively-inclined children who will sit completely still for a book), but at least for my kids, telling stories is even better than reading stories.

In the beginning, the stories I told Luke and Jaz were very simple and very repetitive. The toddler version of Luke and Jaz were obsessed with construction vehicles (obsessed, seriously, without any encouragement from us or from books or toys--though I was actually a little disappointed when Zeben did not turn out to be equally into trucks (he's actually rather afraid of them and wants nothing to do with them) since I had amassed so much unnecessary truck knowledge by the time he was born and it felt a shame that it should just go to waste. That said, Leo is already gravitating to what few truck toys remain in our house, so maybe my truck identification abilities will come in handy one day again after all) and so the stories would go something like this:

Once upon a time, Mom was walking down the street with Luke and Jaz. Luke heard a noise. Brrrm, brrrrm. Jaz heard it too! "I think there's a truck up ahead!" said Mom. When they got closer, they saw that it WAS a truck. It was a ___________ [insert backhoe, excavator, skid steer, front loader, dump truck, bulldozer, etc.]! "Hi ___________ !" said Jaz. "Hi ___________ !" said Luke. Then Mom, Luke and Jaz all said good-bye to the __________ and kept walking to see what they could see.

The response from the kids was overwhelming. They loved it. "Again, again! More truck story!"

I told the kids truck stories whenever they'd start to melt down. In the car, on a long walk home, in the midst of a rough pre-bedtime routine. The magic of telling stories was comparable only to the magic of nursing. And it is a magic that I have kept close to my heart over all of the years since then.

These days, the telling of stories happens mostly at bedtime (and there's no faster way to get all kids dressed in pajamas and snuggled in their beds than to remind them of the story that will be starting in only two minutes!), but also sometimes when we're out and about and feet start to drag. Sometimes I tell true stories, stories of things that happened to me when I was a little girl (the kids especially love stories about things that I thought were scary when I was young, or times my sisters and/or I got in trouble), stories of things that happened to Luke and Jaz and Zeb when they were younger, and stories of things yet to happen. For instance, when Lena was pregnant, I'd tell a lot of stories about the three brothers, Lukas, Jasper and Zeben and their brand new baby brother. Before we go on a trip, I tell stories about the trip. Before holidays, I tell holiday stories (I think this is why we so seamlessly transitioned from gift-giving extravaganza Solstice/Christmas, to our current much-reduced celebration). When one kid is having a lot of fear about a particular issue, I'll tell a story about that exact fear and the way the kid overcomes it. But the kids' favorite stories are the half-true/half-fantastical stories. Like the one I told tonight.

Nearly all stories begin like this:

Once Upon a Time . . . there were 4 brothers: Lukas, Jasper, Zeben and Leo. They lived with their Mom and Mama on _________ [our street] in _________ [our town].

Zeben usually recites most of the opening lines (while I am frantically trying to think up what the story will be about). Tonight I told a story about how one night, in the middle of the night, the kids' toy, Mr. Robot Head, started making more than his usual bleeps and bloops. He started talking. From there, the kids figured out that if they asked him questions, Mr. Robot Head could predict the future. He could tell them important things (like if Leo was in danger of falling down the stairs), and he could tell them less-important things (like what they'd be having for lunch the next day). The kids had to decide if they should keep Mr. Robot Head's powers a secret or share them with Mom and Mama (and the rest of the world). Tonight, this was a to be continued . . . story because it was late and the kids needed to go to sleep. So we'll see what the kids end up deciding tomorrow night (sometimes I make the decisions for the story-versions of the kids, and sometimes the real, live actual kids interject with their real opinions).

Popular repeat story lines are those that involve mysterious baby animals being found in our backyard, or left on our door step (actually if Zeben could choose, I'd tell the "baby wombat" story pretty much every night). So those are easy defaults on the days when my brain simply can't come up with something new.

It is quite empowering to remember that I can tell stories anytime, anywhere, just as I could nurse the kids when they were babies. Of course, it is a choice I have to make, when I am feeling frustrated or exasperated or otherwise disgruntled and the kids are being nutso. I have to choose to tap into the playful parent inside myself, the one who makes up stories and captivates my kids and gets us moving to a happier beat. And it doesn't always feel like an easy choice. Some days it feels nearly impossible. When I'm really feeling angry, telling a story can feel like giving a reward that my children don't deserve. And that's when I have to remind myself that I love being a mother. That this is the best time of my life. That telling stories is healing and magical for all of us. That I am mostly punishing myself by withholding whatever it is that I know will help move the kids--and me--into a different space. Parenting can be fun and joyful nearly all the time (times of sickness and injury absolutely not included). And story-telling can play a large role in making that happen. If I only let it.

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Do you tell stories to your kids? Do you have any tips or tricks to share about thinking them up or motivating yourself to do it? Please do so in the comments section. If you haven't tried being a story-teller for your little ones yet, try it now and then post a comment to tell me (and everyone else) how it went!

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Gratuitous photo of a somewhat playful parent:

Giving the kids a donkey ride around the house
February 2006
Luke and Jaz were newly three and I was newly pregnant with Zeb
(though I didn't know it yet)

"Don't Smile"

This coming week I will be blogging about playful parenting. I've actually never read the book with that title, and I'm not completely sure that I'm using the term "correctly," but I will be writing about our experiences with what I refer to as playful parenting. This is as much for me (because I sometimes--sometimes rather often--need a reminder to use my playful parenting skills) as it is for any readers who are looking for ways to make this life more fun (not just for our kids--though they surely benefit--but for us). I am hoping that everyone will chime in with their own stories of playful parenting throughout the week.

Over the years, playful parenting has saved me so many times. Saved me from tantrums, saved me from yelling, saved me from feeling the need to threaten or bribe my kids. Playful parenting has kept my kids happy while we wait in lines, and kept them awake when a long drive has threatened to ruin bedtime. Playful parenting has shifted the energy of our entire family on a gloomy day. Once you start thinking in a playful parenting mindset, it's hard to stop. You find solutions where it seems there aren't any. You find the joy where others might think it doesn't exist. I can't really imagine how I would do this--be a smitten mama to these four boys--without it.

One of the smallest of playful parenting ideas is what I call the "don't smile" game. A kid might be stuck in a rut, grumpy for no apparent reason (or a small, silly reason)--and stubbornly so--refusing to shift into a happier state. When Lukas is like this, he growls at me when I try to talk to him, and might even throw a fist in my direction if I try to snuggle him up. It's at this point where--if I'm wise--I'll choose not to join Lukas in grump-land by getting exasperated with him or sending him off for some alone time to "cool off," and instead say in a pretend grouchy voice, "fine, Lukas. You can be grumpy, but whatever you do, don't smile." Lukas will likely wrinkle his nose at this remark. "I mean it," I say, "I'm going to count to three, and you absolutely are NOT allowed to smile during this time." Usually the smile comes before I even get to number 2. The power of "don't smile" is outrageous. Of course, the work doesn't end here; grumpy kid will likely need a few rounds of don't smile, before I ask him, "hey, do you think you can make ME smile?" And then I need to remain upbeat and keep the good energy going.

I find that I have to really enjoy this kind of game for it to work. A half-hearted "don't smile" is not going to cut it. I've got to believe that this is fun. That the game is fun, that shifting Lukas to a happier place is fun, that parenting is fun. For me, playful parenting is not about being fake. I'd rather just choose the grumpy path and take some space from a grouchy kid than be fake and playful. It's about finding the part of me--however small it might be at that moment--that wants to enjoy mothering, and letting that part take over.

I'm not even sure yet what the coming week of posts will be about exactly, but I think I should be able to come up with at least 5 more examples of playful parenting from our daily life to share here. And if you guys share too--maybe you'll even blog about it so we can get a link list going--then we'll all be filled with new inspiration and ideas by the end of the week. Which sounds like a pretty good antidote to February--and all the blah-ness it contains--to me.

And because it's so hard for me to post a photo-less entry, I challenge YOU to not smile at this picture of Jaz, sledding yesterday, with so much gel in his hair (and without a hat, lest he ruin the "look") that his hair stood straight up as he came down the hill.

Stairs are for Climbing

Just last week, Leo started showing interest in the stairs for the first time. He'd crawl to the bottom of them and do some drumming on the first step, listening to the way his voice echoed a bit in the stairwell. One day he climbed up to the second step. We only discovered this after he fell down (which brought us running), and then repeated his new trick in front of us. The next day, he climbed all the way to the top. I was in the living room and I heard some excited, heavy breathing (which you can hear at the start of the video, below). And I thought, "oh! Leo's climbing the stairs!" I found him on the fifth step. I got my camera and captured the rest of his assent.

I should mention that our philosophy in regards to stairs and babies is that the safest thing to do is NOT to put up barriers keeping the two from each other, but rather to teach babies how to safely go up and down. We are going to be visiting in a lot of different homes and buildings over the next several months, and many of them won't have baby gates at the tops and/or bottoms of stairs. Teaching Leo how to climb stairs means that he will be safer wherever we go. Plus, a baby gate is just asking to be left open, giving parents a false sense of security if their baby doesn't know how to maneuver stairs safely.

We knew that Leo's interest in and ability to climb stairs would mean a period of increased parental attention, since we will have to spot Leo as he learns. Luckily, this time around, we also have Luke and Jaz, two very willing and capable spotters (since I'm not sure how many more hours of baby's pace stair climbing I have left in me). We do have some gates that can block of the stairs for those times when our chaos is super chaotic (school day mornings while we make lunches, for example), but for the most part our hope is that after several dozen supervised trips up and down the stairs, Leo will be able to make the trek on his own.

The best part of this movie--of the first time Leo climbed all the way to the top of the stairs--is the reception he receives from his brothers once he gets there:



My favorite quotes:

"Leo can easily climb up here! . . . Lukas come see!" (Zeben, so beside himself with excitement).

"You're so proud of yourself!" - Jaz and Zeben

"How 'bout we have a little party to congratulate Leo from learning how to climb up the stairs?" (Apparently Jaz has inherited the "any excuse for a party" gene).

"Leo, we gave you a prize for congratulating you and your crawling skills." (Watch carefully at this point, and you will notice that after Lukas presents Leo with the "prize," Jaz says, "no, don't!" and drops the baby in order to rescue the prize (a trio blocks building, which he brings back into the kids' bedroom). This makes Lena and me laugh so hard).

"Do it again Leo, do it again Leo, do it again!" (Is he a baby or is he a toy? I suppose he's a bit of both).

As the kids say at the end of the movie, we now have the great task of teaching Leo how to climb down. We usually do this with the help of a slide. We'll see if the same tricks that worked for the other babies work for our newest little climber. And I'm guessing we'll be going through quite a bit of arnica in the next few weeks while Leo hones his skills, in a two-steps-up-one-small-tumble-down kind of way.

Leo and Ellis

Last March, our friends Di and Ben welcomed their first baby, Ellis. It was a birth that was especially exciting for Lena and me since Di and Ben had forever (or at least ever since we met them in 2003) waffled back-and-forth about whether or not they wanted to have kids at all. Those who know me are well aware of the fact that I like to try and convince my friends to have babies (not that I think my opinion really makes a difference in the end), and it was especially difficult to accept that Di and Ben might choose not to since it was clear that they would so thoroughly enjoy parenting. Our kids fell in love with them instantly, and unlike some childless friends of ours who have given our kids a lukewarm reception, Di and Ben were always so very welcoming of the wee ones in our family, and eager to hang out with our entire brood.

Ellis is absolutely adorable. In appearance, he's a perfect blend of Di and Ben--which I just find so very fascinating--and his personality is equally as fun and outgoing as his parents'.

Ellis, 10.5 months old

While Leo and Ellis first officially met each other when Leo was just days old, and we've hung out with Di and Ben a few times since then, we hadn't gotten together since Leo exited the blob-stage of early infancy. So when Di and Ben came over this past weekend, Leo and Ellis got to have their first real interaction. Lena took these pictures of their initial encounter:

Leo, meet Ellis.
Ellis, this is Leo.

And all of 5 seconds later . . .

"Hey, can I put my thumb in your mouth?"
"Sure, anytime!"

"Wow, you've got a great suck!"
"Your thumb is pretty tasty!"

Along with swapping saliva and crawling all over the place with Ellis, Leo got some requisite beard-touching time in with Papa Ben. Thank goodness for our hairier male friends and family members, lest our babies miss out on this fascinating, albeit scratchy, experience.

We're so very looking forward to watching Leo and Ellis grow up together, and are so glad that Ben and Di took the leap and decided to have a baby after all. And, of course, Di and Ben think Ellis is just about the best thing that ever happened to them (are you listening Avi? Katie? Anyone else I've been hassling into having a(nother) baby?). We couldn't agree more.

Favorite Rice

My children are incredibly picky eaters. I have no idea where they get it from. They get it from me. I was a very picky eater as a kid too (but I've come a long way in recent years). Thus I am sympathetic to their overly sensitive taste buds, even though I still find their pickiness to be enormously frustrating. Each kid has a couple of meals that he will mostly consistently eat (Zeben loves organic, uncured chicken hot dogs (but no other variety, be warned), Jaz loves pasta (and usually mac & cheese), and Lukas loves rice and beans (except for on the days when he doesn't; he is the pickiest of the bunch)), but beyond those, I never really know if the kids are going to eat what I make for dinner. Have we created this situation, allowing our children to be so picky? Maybe. But I don't think so. Our kids would rather not eat than eat something they don't like, and I can absolutely relate (I was exactly the same way as a kid and really didn't enjoy food much at all until adolescence). And I really prefer that my children eat something, lest they turn into the under-fed versions of themselves (not pleasant, I tell you). We've taken a middle ground on this parenting issue: we don't cater to our kids' food preferences, but nor do we make them eat anything that they don't want to eat. The "rules" are as follows:

1. No one is allowed to complain about the food being served, or make any negative comments about it whatsoever (i.e. "I hate this dinner!").

2. It is really appreciated when everyone tries at least one tiny bite of everything on the table (not enforced, but appreciated, and each child starts out with a small serving of each dish on his plate).

3. Kids are allowed to make themselves something else to eat (i.e. PB & J or a bowl of yogurt), but Moms will not help. Clean-up must be included.

Dinnertime with a pack of picky eaters can be a bit stressful. I feel overjoyed when something goes over well with all--or at least 2 out of 3--of the kids. And that is one reason why I am a frequent baker of short grain brown rice. It is the kids' most favorite grain, and they'll nearly always all enjoy it. Which is a huge relief to me.

Yes, you read that right, I bake our brown rice, in the oven. One local restaurant serves its rice baked, and when we discovered a few years ago that all of our kids would eat the rice there, I started baking rice at home too, instead of cooking it on the stove top. It is so very delicious and is quite easy to make. So easy, in fact, that even a 3-year-old could do it. And that is exactly what happened in our house this afternoon.

Ingredients:
1.5 cups short grain brown rice
2.75 cups water
1 TBS butter
1 tsp salt

1. Measure out 1.5 cups of rice into a pitcher or bowl.


2. Preheat the oven to 350°F.


3. Put 2.75 cups of water, 1 TBS of butter and 1 tsp of salt into a oven-safe pot and bring it to a boil on the stove top. Turn off the burner as soon as the water comes to a boil.


4. Stand at the sink and rinse the rice. Do this by filling the pitcher or bowl with water, stirring the rice around, pouring the water off, and repeating with fresh water. Ideally you would continue until the water is no longer getting milky from the rice, or for about 5 minutes.


5. Strain the rice.


Step 6. Add the rice to the boiling hot water--and put the lid on--before putting the pot into the preheated oven.


7. Set a timer for 1 hour.


That's it! You're done! So easy, and yet so very yummy. It really comes out perfectly every time; there's never any rice stuck to the bottom of the pot, and the rice is never to wet or too dry. IMPORTANT REMINDER: the handle of the pot will be VERY hot when it comes out of the oven. Don't attempt to touch it with your bare hands. We usually cover the handle of our rice pot with an oven mitt for at least 20 minutes post-baking since we find it takes a very long time for the pot to cool after having spent an hour at 350°F.

For whatever reason, our kids have grown accustomed to us serving Favorite Rice in a specific way (what was that I said about not catering to our children re: food?). I fill a small bowl with rice, and pack it down.


Then I flip the bowl over onto each kid's plate, making what the kids call a "rice castle."


Does it taste better when served this way? The kids seem to think so. Which makes me wonder if I should start making castles out of everything I cook for them. Hmmm . . . something to think about. Let me know if you try this and what you think!