Lucky in Oz

Realization

Another reason I'm lucky: I think I could count on one hand that number of times I have heard my child say "I'm bored". And, it [usually] isn't because her brain has been liquefied by hours of TV. (I say "usually" because we just may start to see some seepage out her ears this afternoon following an all-morning-long marathon that included Saddleclub. I am way more generous with TV time when Guy is out of town. He left last night, so this morning was preemptive "me time for me TV for you" so I don't go nuts later this weekend.) Thing is, she, at 6.5 / almost 7, still has a totally crazy imagination that enables her to spend hours (honest to god) wandering around muttering to herself and her friends / sisters / brothers / horses / dog in elaborate fantasies. Sometimes a good dose of TV actually sort of primes the pump for a whole new crop of stories. (Ack, mixed metaphors.) To wit: I think she may be rescuing someone from a mine shaft right now, inspired by this morning's viewing. Not to come off as a smug alpha-mom with awesome parenting skills. At all. Because I think she is the way she is because I was never one for much getting down on the carpet and playing with her. Benign neglect breeds imagination. That's my theory, anyway.

Cartoonish

Half Changed World posted this:

- with a request for captions. My comment was "I don't have a pithy caption - but my immediate thought when I saw the cartoon was "holy shit, that was us!" My husband and I - since our daughter was born - each work part-time schedules so we can each be home a couple days / week. Our weeks have always had a lot of moving pieces - him, me, one day or so of daycare, activities like swimming or gymnastics. While I have always felt lucky that we share parenting and wouldn't want it any other way, it does involve a lot of juggling and hand-offs."

Funny - I had just been thinking about this today. I was on the way from the Y to Maia's to drop Kid off there for a playdate. (Really it was Rachel throwing me a lifeline - Guy is on day 8 of a 13-day trip to Japan - she assumed I could do with a couple hours "off" and offered to take Kid for the afternoon. Love her!) Kid asked if it would Maia's mom or dad home for the playdate. It occurred to me that Kid has no idea that in many, if not - still - most, houses it is the mom at home during the day every day while the dad goes to work. In her world, dad stays home a few days and mom stays home a few days. Except of course when dad is in Japan. In which case mom stays home, working on the computer, continuously saying "five more minutes, please be patient."

Last Day of School

Today ends an era. Many families in our neighborhood are part of the CBP community for years and years - beginning when their eldest starts a twice per week 2s class and ending when their youngest finishes a five days per week 4s/5s class ... as mine does today. As she is our eldest and youngest [human] baby and since she started her CBP career in Ana's 3s, our tenure at the school was comparatively short. But, as with most preschool experiences, it was absolutely formative and indelible.

CBP - and her teacher this year Chris - really stresses social-emotional-developmental growth. There is very little obvious emphasis on any "academics" with near obsessive attention being paid to, bottom line, learning how to be a good friend. And it is a very good thing. I firmly believe in and support play-based, developmentally-appropriate programming for little kids. CBP can be kind of, um ... casual. And sort of loosey-goosey. And I wonder how consistently they apply their enrollment policies with regards to affluent white kids versus kids-of-color and other diversity metrics. I actually sort of suspect that they prowl the greater Mount Baker area, recruiting adopted-kids-of-color-of-gay-and-lesbian-parents ... while kids like mine – white, with two, white, opposite-sex parents – languish on the waitlist for two years. But, know what? [And I can say this since I am one of the lucky (!) ones whose kid did get off the waitlist …] I am ok with that since it did provide an atmosphere wherein Kid believes all kinds of families are "normal" and her current best friends are C, who is adopted from Guatemala and L, about whom Kid said “Know why I love L so much? Because she is my best friend and she is sooooo pretty!” Superficial maybe, but sweet. If she thinks the black girl is the prettiest one in her class then I have succeeded in countering our cultural paradigm of the white, blond, blue-eyed ideal. Her first baby doll was black. She named him Powell … after one of the most Aryan-looking kids we know. Where was I? Ah, suspecting inconsistent enrollment policies. BUT! The heart of the school is in the best, right place and they really get what is important to little kids’ development. The friendliness thing is was sort of a revelation to me. The kids are encouraged to “be friendly” above all else and it really is the essence of “pro-social” behavior. I have adopted the language at home. To ask a four-year-old to “be nice” is hollow. What is nice? But “friendly” has that golden-rule quality that I think they really “get” – don’t treat someone in a hurtful way; treat her like a friend, like you would want to be treated.

Anyway, the friends all sat around the table this morning coloring “things to do this summer” notes from Chris while we, their “grown-ups” stood behind them, misty-eyed, not ready to leave yet after we gave Chris her gift. I am getting a little teary typing it. The kids were unfazed. It was the parents that are having a hard time with the last day of preschool. CBP doesn’t do any kind of “graduation” celebration. It really isn’t a great idea to call too much attention to the transitions in the lives of 4- and 5-year-olds – they are stressful enough. (We were discouraged, for example, from talking too much about the Kindergarten choice and enrollment process in front of the kids – Kindergarten is potentially scary and the kids would certainly have picked up on the grown-ups' stress surrounding the whole thing.) But we parents keep making plans to get together for projects (to make Chris’ gift) and playdates and celebrations … putting closure on preschool one step at a time.

Picture of Diversity

We were at a birthday party this past weekend with all of Kid's classmates from preschool. There was a woman there - an aunt or someone - who didn't know most of the kids. I heard her at one point exclaim that it looked like a Benetton ad. Which I thought was interesting since she is from Manhattan. So, our kids' social circle in south Seattle is more diverse apparently that the upper west side. Who knew? I guess I've started to take for granted the diversity. It isn't so apparent to me since I know all these kids and their families so well. But look there … a beautiful thing, no? And that is just the "visible" diversity. What you don't see is the socio-economic and family-structure diversity. At our school there are adopted kids, kids with one mom, kids with two moms, kids with two dads and kids with one of each. Some dads stay home while a mom works. Some moms stay home while a dad works. Some moms stay home with the other mom works … and so on and so on. The fact that this is all good - all “normal” - for Kid is something for which I am so grateful; that I don't have to teach her tolerance, respect for difference, embracing the "other" - she gets it via social osmosis. She is IN IT.

On Sleeping and Eating

I have had pieces of a post running around in my head lately trying to coalesce into something articulate about how lucky I am that my kid will eat things like this and this when so many children her age (that I read about in the blogoshere) eat, for instance, only white food. Then I read this and now I have pieces of a post running around about sleep and the fact that most nights* Kid sleeps in her bed until around 7:30 when she and the dog get into our bed for some "group family" cuddle time. (I don't know how or why we ever coined the term "group family hug" - it was well before the dog was part of our family ... but it anticipated him in that it is basically a puppy pile of cuddly hugging and kissing and murmuring about how much we all love each other.) (Another parenthetical! Good thing I am not a real writer. In the linked article it was evidently important to note what type of bed the children were – or were not – sleeping in. So, for the record, Kid sleeps in a white-painted wrought-iron daybed – by the name of Betsy, I believe – from Company Kids with rainbow polka dot sheets from Target and a rainbow tie-dye duvet cover from Ikea.) Thing is, it isn't Kid who wanders in the wee hours and sleeps in various locations all through the house ... it is Guy. He has the most bizarre sleep habits. He naps - sometimes more than one a day - then stays up late laughing like a maniac at his heroes and then sometimes falls asleep in the basement, sometimes comes up and sleeps with me or, if the dog is in his place (with his head on the pillow - cutest thing ever), he'll go in and sleep with Kid. Maybe I should take him to a sleep consultant. I wonder if a sticker chart would work with a 44-year-old, "A week of sleeping all night long in your own bed and you get to watch your favorite show, you big sleepy geek!" Stay tuned for more on the food thing. Guy isn’t as idiosyncratic in this department, thank god.

* Most nights … when Guy is home. When he is out of town Kid sleeps with me. Sometimes it is a bit, um, close – in that it is tough being “on” 24-hours a day, even when for eight or so of those I am unconscious. But the cost-benefit analysis I did a couple years ago is that she is clingier and needier when he is gone and I can mitigate that while I am sleeping or deal with it while I am awake and single-parenting and I picked the former.

I could easily do it ten more times!

Five years! Guy and I have been married for five years! Maybe that doesn't sound that long to you all that married college sweethearts or whatever. But man! That flew by! I see some of you calculating: "Hmmm, married five years, Kid just turned four ..." Indeed. She was an, um ... she was a surprise. We weren't not trying. Remind me to tell the story of finding out I was pregnant sometime - it is a good one. Guy and I did our major milestones in eleven-month increments: met October '99, got engaged September '00, got married August '01, had Kid July '02. The following June we held our collective breath. Phew! Nothing!

I see you calculating again (really, you should stop, go relax with a drink for god sakes) - as the hydros roar by and you are still coaxing babies and pets through post-traumatic-Blue-Angles-syndrome ... Yes. We got married SeaFair weekend. And actually, it was great. Our wedding was probably 2/3 out-of-towners making a vacation of it from the east coast. So we really put on the full summer-in-Seattle show for them. We had a BBQ at our house on Thursday; our rehearsal dinner was in the Chinese Room in the Smith Tower; we got married in Volunteer Park and had the reception at the Asian Art Museum; the day after the wedding friends in Madrona hosted a brunch in their backyard, overlooking the lake and the Cascades. And yes, the Blue Angles performed. It was all good. And it remains so. We’ve got a really good, solid marriage. It is generally easy and almost always fun. As I said last night, “May your biggest complaint be that I leave my coffee cups upstairs.” (Really, I should be more conscientous about the cups … since it is Guy that brings the coffee up to me every morning. See? Didn’t I say it’s good?! Aren’t I lucky?!)

Summer in the City

It was really really hot here for a few days. Really nice - but HOT! Hey, did I mention the heat? It reached 88 … in our house. The heat wave coincided with a birthday-party-palooza. Saturday was Oliver & Isabelle's party at the beach at Seward Park. Kid had just finished her first swim lesson session as an Eel at the Y. It was a special summer session: a half hour every day for four consecutive days. (Though truthfully, she was only in the water for about 45 seconds on the first day … then she refused to “coperate and ticipate” and we went home for an extended “quiet time.” The rest of the week went off without a hitch.) She definitely progressed more in that one session than she had in her previous Pike sessions. But a day at the beach with 12 of her friends?! Exponential progress I tell you. They were in the water (and the weeds – man that beach is weedy!) ALL DAY LONG. With only a brief break for cake. We then went home and fell asleep watching Calliou in the basement – the whole family. Including the dog. Next day we were off to Alice’s party at Ravenna Park. She had a bouncy house! Afterwards Kid and I went and played at Meridian Playground on the way home. That evening was our community potluck BBQ in Mount Baker Park. Notice a theme here? Parks, parks, parks! It is times like this that I so appreciate the amenities of this, our emerald city. Playgrounds, dog parks, wading pools, swimming beaches (with lifeguards, and noodles!) bike paths, hiking trails … even our very own front yard. It really is an embarrassment of riches. I have little tolerance for folks who live here and complain about their taxes. Hmmm … ok, I don’t really know anyone in Seattle who complains about taxes (it's true, what you hear – we’re a bunch of pinko bleeding hearts). Anywho. It was hot. But! I spent the better part of three sultry days lazing on the grass in public parks watching my Kid alternately splash and cavort. And I did some cavorting myself. These are days, my friends.

Actually, know what, I am just going to go ahead and paste in all the damn lyrics – rather than leave a vague reference – since it is so apt. Here you go. Happy Wednesday.

These are days youll remember. Never before and never since, I promise, will the whole world be warm as this. And as you feel it, youll know its true that you are blessed and lucky. Its true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.

These are days youll remember.
When may is rushing over you with desire to be part of the miracles you see in every hour.
Youll know its true that you are blessed and lucky.
Its true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.

These are days.

These are the days you might fill with laughter until you break.
These days you might feel a shaft of light make its way across your face.
And when you do youll know how it was meant to be.
See the signs and know their meaning.
Its true, youll know how it was meant to be.
Hear the signs and know theyre speaking to you, to you.

Cost Benefit Analysis

I was hugging kid good-bye this morning on my way out the door to work* and told her to have fun at Little Gym. She pulled away and told me - emphatically - that she was going to "coperate, ticipate and get a treat." Yes folks, the sad truth is that we bribe our child with "Fruit Snacks" (100% RDA of Vitamin C! 100% RDA of some shit that makes her tongue blue for the rest of the day!) so as to get our money's worth out of such activities. One day I told her that if she wasn't going to "ticipate" then we were going to just go home ... and she didn't so we did. Then I remembered I had shelled out a couple hundred bucks for the this non-competitive motor skill development program and thus implemented "treats for ticipation" plan.

* Isn't it funny that I feel like I need to clarify that Kid was not taking the bus or driving herself to Little Gym. Guy is home with her on Fridays. Yes, her DAD takes her to an activity at high noon on a workday. Told you I'm Lucky.

Defending my Title

Am I in denial? Um, jeez … I don’t think so. Am I a Pollyanna? Hmmm, I hope not – those life-is-a-bowl-of-cherries types are irritating. Sure, I have my grumpy days, my downright bitchy moments. (Ok, I have entire bitchy days.) But the bottom line is that I generally feel lucky. No apologies, no irony – it is what it is: I am lucky.

In a macro sense: I am an educated, white, upper middle class woman living in the USA in the 21^st century. Enviable.

But a lot of us are in this stratum – so why do I feel so strongly about how blessed I am to identify as such in front of the whole internet?

Well, you need to understand the history of my entry into the blogosphere. I am currently facilitating a PEPS group. PEPS is a local non-profit that “brings parents of young children together in community-based discussion and support groups.” I lead a newborn group – half a dozen couples with babes under 6 months and I meet weekly. I come up with topics, find speakers and facilitate discussions and they bond with each other and build a support network amongst themselves. I am doing this ‘cause I was in a newborn group three years ago and I feel like I need to give back. So anyway, when I found myself back in the world of teeny tiny babes and parents asking questions like “how do I build up a stash of EBM for when I go back to work …” I hit the worldwide web to try to jog my memory about such things (in a way it all seems like it was just yesterday … so what don’t I remember better?!). I discovered that the when my back was turned the internets graduated from message boards to blogs. Boards were a lifeline for me. I was an all-day long lurker on some iVillage and Baby Bargains boards – even posting pretty frequently on Working and Pumping. The boards are still there and still provide a lot of support. But the blogs! I found myself practically pulling all-nighters reading every last word of the archives on dooce and alittlepregnant. A whole world of smart women writing about their lives in pursuit of and with kids. And since so much of the blogosphere is populated with women struggling with infertility (the aforementioned julie, plus grrrl and - the reason for my current refresh-induced index finger tendonitis – Jo) I realized how lucky I was – to have gotten knocked up by “surprise” (while not trying to not try), to have had a boringly normal pregnancy and an uncomplicated delivery.

This plus the fact that our luckiness is a running theme between my husband and I. We often comment to each other about our good fortune – re: kid or our neighborhood or our house or our jobs or our friends or all the above. (He was raised Catholic, so his feelings that life is auspicious are accompanied by the requisite guilt – which makes him slightly paranoid that all the good could be snatched away at any moment. I am trying to cure him.) So, since my not-quite-daily musings are going to be about all these things, the title seemed apt. There you have it.