gabriel's song

We've got nursery rhyme fever over here. Again. Beatrice has all four of us reading, all the time, from The Real Mother Goose and the book I mentioned a little while ago, Over the Hills and Far Away, and probably more than either, a perennial family favorite called Ride a Purple Pelican. And when we aren't reading and reciting, Beatrice freestyles her own nonsense nursery rhymes. Or her brother makes them up for her. Like on our walk to school this morning:

John John
Pteranodon
Painted his nails at the beauty salon
Eating a lot of squishy bon bons
John John
Pteranodon.

Also, a collaborative effort:

Tick tock tick tock
Goes the clock
Put a banana
in your sock.

That cracks them up every time. A banana in your sock?? Wild!

Gabriel has composed his own melody for one of the little poems from Ride a Purple Pelican. Beatrice can recite the words with him (in fact, we all can):

Late one night in Kalamazoo
The baboons had a barbecue
The kudus flew a green balloon
The poodles yodeled to the moon.

A monkey strummed a blue guitar
A donkey caught a falling star
A camel danced with a kangaroo,
late one night in Kalamazoo.

So on our walk, he was belting out this song, including noises for a guitar, and some doo doo doos at the end of each verse. He was dancing around the stroller, playing an air guitar. Really, really getting into it.

Mama, he explained. I'm playing an electric guitar when I sing this song.
And some girls in pink bras and underwear are behind me on stage singing the doo doo doo part. (Wow.)
I'm wearing a silver cape and I'm all sweaty. (Gabriel as James Brown? Elvis?)
And this is a dance I'm doing. (Swiveling hips, shaking his long hair around).

I am completely captivated and help him imagine his show-stopping Vegas-ready rock number. He continues:

And everyone in the audience is clapping their hands like this (over their heads in time to the beat) and holding up signs, and all the girls want to marry me, and they play my song on the radio all the time, and I get really rich. And then I can buy The Mansion*!! Won't that be awesome?

Oh yes, Gabriel. When you collaborate with Jack Prelutsky and record nursery rhyme-based raging rock songs that go platinum, that will be so awesome. And then, as now, I will be delighted by your spectacular you-ness, and all the ways you shine your light.



*The Mansion in question: he plans for all of us, along with his and Frances's and Beatrice's spouses and children, to live together in a mansion when they are all grown up. There will be a bowling alley and movie theatre and basketball courts and, it turns out, a stage for his shows - intimate affairs for family and friends. Because obviously, even in The Mansion, all his fans would never fit.

toddler visions

After weeks of telling myself to let go of any hopes of potty training within the next few weeks - given the major transitions under way and all the Big Girl Developments of late (moving from crib to bed and weaning) it seemed best to let the kid relax in her diapers for awhile - I decided that actually, never mind, we are in fact doing it. I am mostly at home, the weather is lovely, the big kids are still in school, and Beatrice and I can spend the mornings naked in the backyard. Well, she can. And I can follow her around like a crazy person with a little potty. 

This is my third round of trying to get a stubborn toddler out of diapers and I never know what the heck I'm doing. I always feel as if I am pretending to lead on this one. I talk a good game, but I think they can tell that there is a void where authority and assurance should be. It's smoke and mirrors, kid, and we both know your radar is fine tuned. Your mother is absolutely clueless when it comes to this particular growing up challenge and you know it, and that's why you look at me as if I am utterly absurd every time I pull out that ugly plastic thing.

All that said, bribery seems to work pretty well with Beatrice. Better than with my older children...or maybe I'm just more comfortable employing it. In any case, today I told her that when she learned to use the potty and didn't need diapers any more we would have a big party to celebrate. Then she told me about the party, and it was fantastic. All the themes that occupy her little mind were out front and center: family roles, her ambivalence about and attraction to the natural world, babies, possessions, control, and sweets. I transcribed a bit:

M: Where is the party going to be?

B: At the restaurant. And there will be swings! A blue swing. And a purple swing that I can go. Gabriel can go on the blue swing and I can go on the purple swing! And Didi can go on a big girl swing.

M: What else will happen?

B: Everybody will come. It’s a different playground there. Yeah. And Sada will be there. And Caleb and Milena. And LOTS of babies. Tobias will be there. And Sarah. She will. All different kinds of babies. And Miss Danielle will be there, and Jolie, and Baby Yvette will be there too! Miss Danielle is going to bring the stroller. She will.

M: Tell me more about what we’ll do.

B: It will be a cool place called a Different Kind of Jug Bay. They're gonna make popcorn and chocolate cupcakes and brownies and we ... we get to eat them!! And the brownies have sugar in them. But we will have the 'puter there to play Hello Goodbye. And you can play Love Love Me Do. Mama - remember raspberry kombucha?

M: Should we have that at the party?

B: Yeah. And we will bring our toys! And there's gonna be any bugs there and any bugs at the playground. No bugs and no ants.

M: How about butterflies?

B: No. They’re not allowed to come.

M: And did you say we’re going hiking?

B: No we're not. We're going to the cafe. And Papa is not allowed on the playground. Only big girls. 

M: What about Mama? Am I allowed?

B: No you're not.

Wish me luck.

xo

fairy houses and more favorites

The fairy houses handbook arrived in a paper grocery bag a few weeks ago, tucked in with girls size 10-12 clothes and other books and even a poem. What good friends we have! They know us well, and this book is a most excellent hand-me-down.

Something about those inspiring photographs got the children out early yesterday: gathering, furniture building, scouting out the perfect spot, arranging. Their enthusiasm brought out the aspirational, romantic, fluffy sheep and beeswax candles and runny homemade yogurt and dandelion crowns sort of stay-at-home mother in me. She resides amongst many other sorts of mothers but sometimes does like to run the show. (She bristled a little when a neighborhood boy, older and a little lonely, wandered in during the gathering portion of the morning and usurped my leadership role. No, no, we are not making fairy boats, I wanted to say. Geez. These are domiciles for our garden sprites. Get it straight. Instead I stepped back and listened to the conversation, wondering how I could feel so irritated by the presence of a lost soul in our midst, rather than welcoming him. Let's just say - euphemistically - that the yogurt maker can be a bit inflexible.)

She may be particularly dominant just now because I am able to appreciate the pleasures of being at home, coming on the heels of a very intense last few weeks at work. I can notice and feel grateful for granola-toasting on Tuesday morning or volunteering at Gabriel's school; it isn't something I take for granted. At least not yet. Domesticity, most especially the one-on-one time with Beatrice, tastes very sweet.

Don't get me wrong: the bickering is driving me bonkers, the laundry is dreary as ever, and I am completely overwhelmed by the tasks of preparing for our sabbatical year away.

But still. It is so good to be home. So I thought I'd share some of the things we're enjoying right now.

An aside: I always like to know what my friends are eating, wearing, reading, watching. Have you spent an embarrassing amount of money on a face cream at Whole Foods? Do tell. New clogs? A picture, please. (Anna, if you are reading this: I found a binder full of emails from when we lived in Belgium. The first from you opened with a description of your outfit and what you had for lunch. I teared up. Remember those days?)

Anyway! The first item worth sharing: a green smoothie everyone in my family likes. That is no small thing. It is simple and delicious. I've also been making a plain kefir-frozen pitted cherries-almond butter smoothie that Beatrice and I can't get enough of.

On the reading front: Mike is reading The Princess and the Goblin aloud to Frances and Gabriel. When he can't, I get to read them Harriet the Spy. I swear, the first chapter of that book is one of the best I have ever read. Harriet is a marvel. All of us have been loving a fun new beautiful book of nursery rhymes, and I have read two novels recently that I would not push upon you to read - they are not extraordinary - but I do like them. The Paying Guests (thanks to Anna for the recommendation) and Frances and Bernard.

And we always read George and Martha and will never tire of it. I wish James Marshall had not died so very young.

The "purple girl" in the above picture is welcoming you to fairy tea. She was also the prize (the prize?! Really, Meagan?) that Beatrice got after we stopped nursing. The last time was Mother's Day Eve. I still feel a bit sad and mixed up about it. It has me dreaming of babies and spending strange amounts of time snuggling up to Frances's mouse Reepicheap. He is another favorite worth mentioning. He is in fact a wreck of a rodent, having overgroomed much of his fur off and torn his little ears to bits by scratching at them. He stinks and poops in your hands. He is the cutest little thing.

Ah, the mysteries of love!

Speaking of. In closing, I leave you with some pictures of Beatrice, who was telling me about all the fairy babies and what they like to eat and when their nap times are (you can see one of their cradles in the above picture, to the right of the table). The cuteness was completely over the top, it was blowing my mind. She explained about Fairy Baby Pansy and Fairy Baby Delphinium and Fairy Baby Phlox. Phlox. She said that.

And now you! What did you have for lunch today?

feeling teller

Today I visited three classrooms at Gabriel's school as part of Dare to Dream Day (back in the literal-minded 80s, we called it Career Day). I signed up during the whirlwind end-of-semester time, when I could barely manage one day to the next. I didn't have much brain space to dedicate to figuring out what a clinical social worker should say or do with kindergartens and first and second graders, but I put my hope in my future better-rested self, who could surely figure it out.

Now the semester is over. I made banana chocolate chip muffins this afternoon! I have stopped by the library no less than three times over the past five days, and two of those days were spent alone with my husband on the Eastern Shore. Yes, it's true! Overnight! Ask my wonderful in-laws who stayed with the kids and got them to school on time, or marvelous Bob and Cathy, who lent us their house on a tidal creek that is frequented by osprey and red-winged blackbirds. For the first time in three years, we skipped town.

...Ah. That was really, really good. But what was I talking about? Oh. Yes. Dare to Dream Day.

I first did what anyone who knows her would do: I asked Christen for advice. She gave me great ideas for talking about feelings with kids in a playful way. She also recommended this lovely book. So I put it on hold at the library. I futzed around on the internet some last night, put a few notes together, and decided - nervously - that it would all somehow come together.

Then Gabriel and I walked to school this morning. On the way he asked me what I was planning on doing when I visited his class. And then miraculously, within minutes, he helped me come up with a terrific idea: why not make feeling tellers? He is obsessive when it comes to origami and has made about a thousand 'fortune tellers' over the past couple of years. Perhaps you've seen them before? My children love to make them and write absurd, outrageous fortunes under the paper flaps. (I have a feeling I have blogged about this, years ago...but know I could never find it in the mountains of posts.)

I had a blast with the second graders and kindergarteners. It did somehow come together. They showed me their style of "belly breathing" and told me all about what colors their feelings were. But when I finally landed in Gabriel's first grade classroom, the real fun - and chaos - began.

I watched my newly minted seven year old stride up to the front of the classroom and begin instructing his fellow students on how to fold a feeling teller, step by step, using the document camera. Mrs. Pirela whispered to me that she started calling him Professor Gabriel after he assumed this authoritative style when teaching his classmates to make paper boats last week. Sure, he's watched a lot of how-to YouTube videos. That may have inspired his manner. But nonetheless I was in awe. Professor Gabriel!

We drew faces on the outer flaps representing four main emotions: happy, sad, angry, scared. Then we wrote those words on the inside of the flaps. It was craziness, getting all the kids to that point, and Gabriel got more than a little flustered trying to lead this ambitious, valiant effort.

Finally, just before our time was up, we were able to practice playing with them. This is what you do: hold it out to your friend and ask her to pick a number between 1 and 10. Then alternate the flaps till you hit that number; invite her to lift one, and see what feeling it is. Sad? Tell a story about a time you were sad. Angry? Tell about the last time you were really angry. Then switch.

Simple! A feeling teller. You use it to tell about your feelings. Thanks, Professor Gabriel.