momtourage

In Search of Snow

If you believe in global warming (and I do) then you might accredit this winter's severe lack of snowfall to it. As I stepped out of my New York home into balmy winds, rain, and a small glimpse of sun in the far distance today I wondered if spring was on the way. Without one actual snowfall this year! Okay, there was that singular incident when the backyard neighbor yelled at my kids for playing in the snow at 9AM but it melted the next day so I am disregarding it.

In early January, my dad called me and said you have to get up to Maine - it's snow from your childhood. I remember that snow well, when our ranch house porch became a blue-lit tunnel and saucy neighbors buzzed up on the roof on their snowmobiles. We used to dig elaborate tunnels into the banks at the side of the driveway, full houses of rooms, and wait for the bus in the eerie light. Nowadays we might say, "What were we thinking, letting our kids hang out in those temporal snow holes?" But back then they were par for the course and we were especially proud of our three bedroomed version. We used to have snacks in there and craft furniture. Completely dangerous, of course, but we were none the wiser.

Jet Blue is having a sale and so tomorrow we are going up to Maine to see the snow. Like some kind of obscure tourist attraction. I will enjoy it fully.

"Did God make Darth Vader?"

Just in case you're wondering what's on Mr G's mind lately...

"Is God a good guy?"
"I wanna change my name to Anakin Skywalker."
"Mommy, what does God sound like?"
"Darth Vader can't die, right Mommy?"
"How can God see what I'm doing?"
"Is Luke's light-saber better than Darth Vader's?"
"How come I can't hear God?"
"R2-D2 can't die, right Mommy?"
"What's a church?"
"What's Luke's spaceship called again?"

Aargh!!!

My digital camera is broken. And in spite of my slow, slow acceptance of said camera and extreme reluctance to switch from film to files, it will be sadly missed.

I guess I'll have to borrow Sam's Fischer Price version in the meantime. At least it doesn't have the red eye problem mine had.

You Know Your Toddler is Fashion-Forward When...

You sit down to watch your favorite hour-long commercial for select hair, make-up supplies, fabric store and occasionally candy -- I mean-- reality TV series, Project Runway, to discover that the handsome and talented Islreali designer, Rami, is wearing a T-shirt (in brown) owned by your two-year-old son (in blue.)   My son's a fashion icon.  Who knew?

"copy-catter"

That's what we used to call others who copied our actions when we were little. When you're around someone long enough, it's inevitable that you start copying them. Ever notice how friends often dress alike or siblings sound the same? You become friends with someone in the first place because you share common interests, or tastes.

Yet there seems to be a fine line between flattery and facsimile. A friend once complained to me about another mom she knew who had to copy everything she did: she'd buy the same stroller, send her kids to the same private school, even bought similar toys. Hmmnnn...I thought. Is there something wrong with that? When you live in New York City, chances are pretty good that everyone is going to have the same stroller that you do (overwhelmingly Maclaren fans here, with plenty of Bugaboos and Phil & Teds). And I actually thought it was cool when my son was going to be in the same preschool class w/ a family friend's daughter.

Still, you can never be too cautious. I checked with a friend to make sure that she wouldn't mind if I "stole" her son's name for my own baby. Luckily, her reaction re-confirmed why she was my friend in the first place.

Knitting Spree

I have been on a bit of a knitting spree this winter, trying to work down my stash and also exploring techniques that I normally may (lazily) avoid in favor of a fast, easy knitting fix. The latest project was a Lopi cardigan for my mom' s birthday. I had a few problems with the project from Best of Lopi.  First of all, it was nearly impossible for me to  match the gauge. I had to go down to a size 8 needle (and 6 for the rib) in the end. I know I'm a loose knitter, but I really got tired of switching  needles and  endlessly swatching.  Secondly, the pattern  was vastly sized. Now, this is for my mom who does like  a looser fit than I, but a 44 inch chest for a size small?! In the end  I fudged the numbers  and split the difference between a child's large  and  a woman's small, ending up with a  40 inch chest which, when she tried it on, looked just perfect.  The bulk of the yarn was from my stash, the brown being purchased when I was working on  the Knitting To Go deck, so it was a good  4  years old. Needless to say, I was one skein short. I knew I could never match the dye lot  so  I added a little wider of a (contrasting color) stripe to the sleeve pattern  and just barely finished everything but the button border. I even had to cut off a particularly long tail to bind off the last sleeve. Then  I crossed my fingers and ordered anther skein from Webs. I had gone this far - what else could I do?  Surprisingly, it was a nearly perfect match. I don't know if that's because Lopi is  super consistent with their dyes or because I was extremely lucky.  I'm not questioning it.

Now that I have finished this, there is no excuse for me not to finish my step-dad's  traveling cable  birthday sweater.  This is a project that has been sitting, half finished, under my bed  for over a year.  Maybe I will set up a  work schedule. If I knit 5 rows a day, it will  be done by May.  That's very doable.

Things Overheard

Things overheard (or said by me) in my classroom during classroom science today:

"I lost my brain."

"Roll your bodies up."

"Everyone write your name inside your body somewhere."

"Whose brain is this?  Don't lose your brains, people."

"My head is too small for my brain."

"I don't like my body."

"Stop cutting your legs now, it is time to go home."

"Be careful not to rip your arms."

Overheard in my home tonight:

"You're not getting a bath tonight, Cakie, so stop putting tilapia in your hair."

they were here

One of the things I've learned to live with since having boys is their constant chaos and mess.

But once in awhile, it makes me smile to find evidence that they've left behind...A stuffed stowaway in my bed, or Playmobil prisoners in my blender...reminders that they are here.

 

Public Refrigerator: wishy washy series

 

Artist's statement:

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No Early Retirement

Elementary school teachers often teach things in the absolute, mostly because they want to rid children of bad habits.  For example, one might say, "Sentences never begin with the word 'and,'"  which is just a plain lie.  I want to break kids of their bad habits, but I also try to stay away from teaching in absolutes because it  isn't as helpful as it seems.

Recently, our literacy higher-ups told us to teach a lesson in which we "Send words to a retirement home."  The idea is to enrich their vocabulary by forcing them to use more descriptive and/or elaborate words in place of the more commonplace happy, sad, good or bad.  So... they just aren't supposed to use those words anymore.  They must use the fancier words.  A wise colleague of mine said today at lunch, "I'm not sending any words to the retirement home.  There are just some occasions for which those words are actually the most appropriate for the occasion.  What if a child is writing about a birthday party?  They aren't allowed to write "Happy Birthday?" 

I couldn't help it.  I broke into song:

Felicitous Birthday toooo you!
Joyful Birthday toooo you!
Gratified Birthday, Mr. President...
Ecstatic Birthday toooooo yoooou.

I say long live words.  All of them.