Experiences

That’s what the boy calls experiments, anyway. Currently, he wants to be a scientist when he grows up and do lots of experiences.  One of our earlier adventures was here, but now we’re able to do more complex ones.

A while back I checked out a library book with some kids’ science experiments in it, and there was a whole chapter on electricity and experiments with that.  I went to RadioShack, remembering it from my  youth as a place with random wires and springs and plugs on the walls with acne-faced bespectacled nerds roaming about, and instead found that it had become a mobile phone store with tacky furry talking animals for sale as well.  As it turns out, they do still carry all the wires and such, they’re just hidden away in industrial looking drawers in the back of the store.  (The acne-faced bespectacled nerds are now running all the large software companies and laughing all the way to the bank.)  I purchased a pack of alligator clip wires, copper wire, a buzzer, a switch, a light bulb and stand, and a 9-volt battery, and gave it to the boy for Christmas.

Some of the basic stuff is just learning how circuits work–how you have to complete the loop for the electricity to flow through, starting with a simple bulb. This one is already jazzed up with a homemade switch–nails into a scrap of wood, with a paperclip around them.  Squeeze the paperclip, and it completes the circuit and the light goes on.

Then things get even fancier, with the switch from the shop:

I teach him the basic idea by having him trace his finger along the wires from one battery terminal to the next, and showing how there has to be a continuous line for the electricity to flow and for the light to turn on.  In case you’re wondering, the 9 volt battery doesn’t conduct enough electricity through dry skin to buzz you.  The girl did stick one in her mouth, but it didn’t bother her too much, either. (kidding, only kidding. Sort of.)

The next cool thing is to make a game.  Remember that carnival game where you have to guide a loop of wire along another wire without touching it? Well, that’s just a simple circuit and we have all the tools to make it! You connect a bare wire between the two nails on the block, fashion a bare wire loop to go around it, hook it up such that touching those two completes a loop with the buzzer, and you’ve got a good half hour of entertainment.

Concentrating hard:

Aw, man!

He never did manage to win, sadly, but I confess I might have made it too difficult with a loop that was too small.  Still, he loves to mess around with the wires and such and figure out how to make it all work on his own, which is really the whole point.

More science experiments to come!

Warts and All

I was speaking with a colleague today about how difficult it can be to have small children and how much they can try your patience. Often, the stuff that makes it to the blog is the fun, entertaining, aren’t-they-so-cute stuff, but a lot of the time it’s just plain hard to have 2 small kids and be 2 full-time working parents, I don’t care how amazing you or your children are.

Case in point, our adventures with ice cream the other day.

I had a day off, put the kids in school so I could run errands, and told them that I’d pick them up early so we could get ice cream together, thinking it would be a fun idea.

We get to Little Man Ice Cream and the boy chooses chocolate with sprinkles in a flat cone. I get the girl strawberry with sprinkles and we sit down on a bench to eat. The girl is somewhat incredulous at being given a whole cup of ice cream all to herself, and proceeds to gorge herself with no attention to precision and globs of pink fly onto her raincoat. The boy is standing up, licking away at his cone, entirely content.  I feel like a great mom having a great time with her great kids.

Then, it all goes to hell.

The sun goes behind the clouds, and the boy says, “Can we finish our ice cream at home? My hands are getting so cold!!”  It seems reasonable enough, but I’ve forgotten that you can’t reason with a 22 month old.  I tell the girl, “Let’s finish our ice cream at home,” while I take the cup out of her hands.  She responds by screaming continuously.  I try to pry the spoon out of her fist but it’s no use.  It’s her only ice cream left and she’s not having it.  I can’t pick up the livid toddler and carry her ice cream at the same time, so I give the cup to the boy (whose ice cream is now in a cup as well) and we start walking to the car.

As he walks with ice cream cups in hand, he trips and falls prostrate on the ground, scraping his palms on the sidewalk.  Both cups tumble to the ground.  He stands up and starts bawling while I try to console him with the fact that none of the ice cream touched the ground.  Remember, the girl is now being carried like a battering ram and screaming her head off the entire time.  The boy gets it together, still sniffling, and we get to the car where the girl proceeds to make her body as rigid as a board and refuses to get into her carseat.  With no small amount of wrangling, I manage to strap her in, but I’m frazzled now and say to the boy, who is standing behind me,  (and this, I’m not proud of) “I wish you could have just stayed there a few more minutes! She’s so upset now!!”

To which the boy starts wailing, “I’m SORRRRYYYY!!!!” and crying as loud as HE can, repeating “I’m sorry!” over and over.  I get to experience screeching in surround sound.

Sigh.  Two screaming kids and a guilt trip is not what I had had in mind.  People are staring, too.

I turn around, give the boy a kiss, hug him and say, “I’m sorry.  It’s okay–it was getting pretty cold.  Tell you what–let’s go home, turn on the fireplace, and eat our ice cream by the fire where it’s warm and toasty.”  This mollifies him and we put the ice cream into the cup holders in the back seat, where they fit perfectly. 

At home, the girl hyperventilates in her high chair until she gets the ice cream in front of her and proceeds to demolish it and then lick the cup.  The boy parks in front of the fireplace and eats the rest of his as well; peace is restored.

It all ended well, indeed, but there were a few moments in there where I just had to take deep breaths and do my best to remain calm, and even that I failed to do entirely.  This post doesn’t even begin to cover the mad morning rush to feed/clothe/transport children and the reverse routine at night that we have on a daily basis.  All of this to say that while it’s fun and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, it’s challenging too–and I’m well aware that many parents have it much tougher.  I know that you, too, have a story of when you were not a particularly graceful parent under pressure, and I just want you to know that you are not alone.

Freewheeling

The boy is fully riding a two-wheeler!

He had been riding a push bike for well over a year and had it down.  The idea is that the difficult aspects of learning to ride a bike are balance and steering, so a kid can figure those out first without bothering with pedals.  Then, when it’s time to ride a two-wheeler, you don’t even need training wheels.  At the suggestion of my friends Geoff and Karen who had their 4 year old twins riding without training wheels, we got him a 12″ bike for Christmas, and look!

(Excuse the music.  I couldn’t help myself)

A bit of a shaky start, and then he just goes!

It was pretty incredible to watch the first time it happened.  More than that, it just felt so BIG. I think that so far, the other achievements that we regard as milestones are all part of being a baby or a toddler.  But riding a bike is a big kid thing, and it signifies another level of freedom and ability.

I also realized that this is now the first time that he can go faster than we can.  Since, as I’ve mentioned before, history repeats itself, this worries me.  When I was six, my parents took me riding at the local park.  I rode ahead of them and climbed onto two parallel bars (part of the VitaCourse).  Dangling from one, I swayed to and fro, and then spied two elderly women round the corner.  I thought to myself, “I’ll show them what I can do!” and got on top of one of the bars.  I used to spin around the bar, like on the school playground, and was just short enough that I missed the other bar.  Unfortunately, I had grown. As I propelled my body forward, my forehead landed with a sickening thud on the second bar and I dropped to the ground unconscious, with a gash in my forehead and blood everywhere, which was the scene that my poor panicked parents saw as they rounded the corner.  Obviously, I survived, albeit with a rather large scar, but I’d rather not have to relieve that particular incident.

As he rode around the asphalt, it also made me realize that this is the first major leap into childhood, and by extension, into independence and pulling away from his parents.  It’s a bittersweet feeling when your child achieves something new.  On one hand, you’re just so proud of him, but on the other you realize that it means he needs you just a little bit less.  I know it’s not the last time this will happen, but it feels like it’s the first significant one. Or, as our friend John, father to teenagers, said, “This? This is nothing.  It only gets worse.”

Merry Belated Christmas

Late post–work kept me pretty busy last month, hence the downturn in posting.  I meant to have this done by Christmas but better late than never, I suppose.  And now on to the post itself.

When it comes to religion, both Eric and I are rather decidedly (mostly) non-believers.  Eric grew up in a relatively strict Christian household and studied the Bible quite a bit, and while much of the text still holds meaning for him, he is not a practicing Christian.  I was nominally raised Hindu, and a lot of the fables and tales still draw me, even if I don’t believe in the theology.

So what’s a mixed-race, secular family to do for Christmas?

I understand that, obviously, the holiday holds deep sacred meaning for many.  Even without that, it’s a pretty fun time: presents, trees, lights, songs, family.  In addition to the usual fun things, we are trying to develop our own traditions and pick up some that have been lost.

One such tradition ended many, many years ago, in a flurry of pierogi dough being flung across the kitchen.

Eric’s grandmother was Czech, and as such would make pierogies every year for Christmas.  They can have meat, but Nanny made them in her traditional form, as a peasant food with potato, cheese, and prunes.  It’s a bit of an involved process, but Eric remembers how much he loved making them with his Grandmother while growing up.  After his grandmother died, Eric’s mom, Cheryl, continued the tradition until one fateful day when Eric and his mother got into a fight whilst making pierogies.  Enraged, Cheryl began throwing pierogies at Eric across the kitchen.  The original fight has long been forgotten, but ever since that year, Cheryl simply purchased the pierogies instead of making them herself.

A few years ago, we decided to pick up the tradition again, and now the boy is old enough that he can practially make them all by himself.  This year, we tried a fusion pierogi–potato bhaji filling in the usual dough, to sort of combine both of our ethnic backgrounds into our own tradition.  We have not, as yet, made a prune filling out of lack of demand.  We use a very old, very traditional, very…well, okay I downloaded the recipe from the Food Network website–Polish Pierogies by Emeril “Lagaski.”

First you sift the flour, crack the eggs, and then mash everything up.

The boy has gotten really good at cracking eggs and rarely gets any shell in.

Then you roll the dough out and cut circles out of it.  The boy uses his own little rolling pin and does a nice job.

Then you carefully stuff the pierogies.  Note the look of intense concentration on Eric’s face.  This is not a job for the faint of heart.  Too little filling, the pierogi doesn’t taste that good.  Too much, it explodes when you boil it.

After stuffing and folding over, you use a fork to press around the edges and seal them.  The boy kept calling this “forking” and would cry out, “I want to fork them!”  This caused our inner twelve-year olds to giggle uncontrollably.

Then you have the perfectly plump pierogies, ready for boiling.

After all of that, we boiled the pierogies and then stored them in the fridge.  We eat them on Christmas Eve, sauteed with onions until they are crispy golden brown.  Sadly, I do not have any pictures of the finished pierogies as I was struck with a horrific flu virus and spent the next two days in bed.  I only got to eat 3 of the 5 dozen pierogies that we made and those tasted like cardboard because of my head cold.  I was told by the other consumers, however, that they were quite tasty.

It’s a pretty involved process, to be sure, but we all love doing it and next year the girl will be able to do a bit more than just eat them.  Something about making pierogies has come to mean that it’s the holidays.  Another tradition we have is that I always make souffle for Christmas dinner, though of course I couldn’t get out of bed to do it this year. Maybe next year I’ll post about that one instead.

I like the idea of creating memories for our children around the holidays, so that when the kids grow up, they can remember how we used to spend the whole day together, talking, laughing, making pierogies, and how eating them will always remind them of home.

What holiday traditions do you have?

Batteries Not Desired

As Christmas approaches, it is with no small amount of dread that I await presents for the children.  Despite the many, many times that we’ve told well-meaning gift-givers otherwise, we inevitably receive numerous toys that are a) electronic, b) loud, c) have no redemptive value and more often than not d) all of the above.  I still don’t understand why people buy these things.  First of all, the packaging requires a small saw to extricate the item.  The kids go gaga over them for about, oh, 5 minutes and then once they’ve figured out that pushing a button does the exact same thing every single time, the toy is relegated to the bottom of the bin, but not before Eric and I are tearing our hair out in sheer annoyance at listening to a plastic flower shriek, “I love you!” for the 500th time.

Even toy manufacturers have fallen prey to this notion that more bells and whistles is better. Remember the classic “See n’ Say” of your youth? You used to point the arrow to the cow, pull a string, and the machine would say “The cow says ‘moooooo.'” The toy now has 2 flip pages with all sorts of sounds, a “quiz” mode that is too difficult for the intended age group, and a lever that is too hard for little ones to pull.  Same thing goes for the classic corn popper toy–now with lights, music and number counting. (Though can be purchased in its old incarnation, unlike the See n’ Say.)

I’d much prefer toys that encourage some degree of creativity and free play, since those are the ones that seem to have the most lasting value and are well tolerated by parents.  Truth be told, the favorite “toys” at our house are the cardboard boxes, couch cushions, and blankets which can be manipulated into forts, space shuttles, cars, houses and so much more, and also anything that involves dress-up.  I’ve had many house calls by the “doctor,” repair jobs by the “worker,” and trips to space with “Neil Armstrong” than I can count. Puzzles.  Puzzles are also a hit.

Anyway.  As an act of guerrilla parenting this holiday season, I encourage you to cut out the warning labels below and take them with you on your next visit to the toy store.  Slap them onto anything that pertains, which is probably most everything there, and think about the the real caution labels that should be put on today’s playthings. (Taken from Make Digital Magazine, full link pic below large ones)

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Volume 07

Just Happy Cleaning Windows

Both of my children attend a Montessori school, where one of the basic philosophies is that children’s play is valuable work and should be regarded as such.  To this end there are various “practical life” stations in the classroom where the kids have scaled down versions of adult activities, like laundry hanging, dishwashing, and sweeping.  (I’m waiting for the class to have a few more useful ones, such as “cooking dinner” work, “putting self to bed” work, or “zymurgy for toddlers.”) One of the favorites is always “window washing” work.  I’m not sure why this is such a big hit, though I think it’s partly because it’s simply fun to spray a water bottle.  I purchased a set recently from a Montessori supply website, though I could probably have just put the whole thing together with stuff from the dollar store.

My intention was primarily for the girl to use it, but the boy grabbed it and proceeded to wash every window in the house.

The girl got into it, too:

She particularly loved the squeegee, and once when the boy tried to use it, she snatched it back from him and proceeded to whack him on the head repeatedly with the hard plastic side in a fit of rage. This landed her in time out rather quickly.  The boy, to his credit, never cried or lashed out at her, but instead walked over and sat down in front of her.  “It’s okay, sweetie pie,” he said. “I’m your brother and I love you.  Can you say sorry and give me a hug?” They gave each other a hug and promptly returned to window washing, while I got teary-eyed.

On another occasion, the girl picked up a towel and began to wipe off the fridge, completely of her own volition.  Seriously, this must be how they get the school clean.  I wonder if they’re licensed for child labor.  Should I notify the authorities?

She then made the sign for milk, so I handed her a sippy cup thinking she must be thirsty.  She instead proceeded to do this:

See? She realized that the fridge wasn’t actually dirty when she was cleaning it, so she purposefully dripped milk on it and then wiped it off, which gave her a great deal of satisfaction:

The thought process mystifies me–I wish I knew exactly what was going on in that little brain.  Does she need to feel that her work is purposeful? Or did she just want something to wipe off?  I’d like to think that it’s the former, since really, don’t we all want our work to be meaningful?  It reminds me of the Van Morrison song, “Cleaning Windows,” in finding happiness and satisfaction in simple, purposeful work.

Or maybe, sometimes spilling milk is just making a mess for the fun of it.

Embrace!

There’s a new exhibit titled “Embrace!” at the Denver Art Museum.  They invited artists to install installations and paint paintings throughout the building–directly onto the walls of the museum itself.  Check out the link to the Daniel Libeskind building–I think it’s stunning.  One of the interesting features is that there are no 90 degree angles in the building–the walls all jut out at odd angles to one another, and the pieces in this exhibit all take inspiration from and use that to their advantage.  Come April, these works will be painted over, only to remain in pictures.

The DAM is incredibly kid-friendly and we’ve had memberships since the new building opened.  On weekends during winter and every day during the summer you can check out kid-sized backpacks and art tubes with activities in them.  Some galleries have “I Spy” cards to play with the paintings, and there are interactive games on every floor.  In one work entitled “Bubbloo,”  a  light projector casts bubbles on the floor and kids (and adults, if you can get around the kids) run around to stomp on and pop the bubbles.  The central area of this piece is flanked by large beanbag chairs, and on most days you can lounge on these and watch a chaotic slew of children frantically try to pop all the bubbles first.  Occasionally this leads to a closed-head injury, but hey, it’s all for the sake of art.

I took the boy to see the new exhibit, and it’s really, really cool.  A disclaimer: taking pictures of a fast-moving kid (the boy) in a low-light setting (the museum) and without a flash yields a lot of blurred pictures.  Think of it as a purposeful design element.

In what used to be the gift shop is a piece titled “¿Being Home?” The artist asked immigrants to Denver to say one word that described their experience, and then did this:

Being Home? by Rupprecht Mathies

See all the big words hanging from pegs on racks? Those are huge pillow words that you’re encouraged to play with, and the boy had a ball with them.

Next was a very cool installation “Chamber,” where there’s a big room with projected words and images that flit about you in a dark space, meant to be reminiscent of being inside a fireplace, only with technology instead of organic flames.

Chamber by Charles Sandison

The boy found this to be a bit overwhelming and didn’t want to spend a bunch of time in there.

The DAM  has little stations where you can do art activities.  These change on a regular basis so there’s always something new, and they’re related to a piece nearby.  This time we found an area where there were cut up pieces of cardboard, a hole puncher, brads and twist ties encouraging you to repurpose this found material into art.

You can see a bit of the piece it relates to behind the boy in the pic above, and here’s a larger shot.

Rain Has No Father? by El Anatsui

The artist flattened liquor bottle tops and connected them with small copper rings to create this large undulating form, which the boy said reminded him of the mountains.

After all of this we were both a bit hungry and so went into the atrium that connects the old and new buildings, in which one can buy coffee and snack, which I did.  They have wooden blocks there for kids to play with that mimic the Denver Central Library, which is right outside the window.

Denver Central Library

The boy used this as inspiration for his own library re-creation:

And then a map of his Denver:

Denver Map-click to see captions larger

I have NO idea what “the clock place” is, but that’s what he insisted on.

After this we walked over to the Library, checked out some books and headed home.  We didn’t get to all the pieces in the show, so will have to go back at some point, but I highly recommend going to check it out if you get a chance, and take the kids! It’s been fun to take the boy (and now the girl) to the Museum and watch how their reaction to the art changes as they grow, from just sleeping in the carrier the entire time (philistine!) to playing with the light bubbles to now actually being able to have opinions on which pieces he likes and doesn’t.  And let me tell you–my kids are quite opinionated.

New Toys

Not for the kids, for me!

I’d been wanting to get a swift and ball winder for some time now, and saw a set on sale recently and bought it.  It’s a metal/plastic Laci’s Swift and ball winder, and while I love having them, I think if I could purchase over I’d spend a bit more and get a wooden swift.  For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, a swift is a contraption on which you put a hank of unwound yarn to keep it untangled while you wind it into a ball.

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Something called a ball winder should be self explanatory, though I bet those among you with baser inner workings could come up with an alternative meaning.  Basically, it rapidly winds up the yarn into a little yarn “cake” from which you can pull your working yarn from the center and work tangle-free without a pesky ball rolling all over the place. Here’s a pic of a triceratops tentatively checking out a finished cake.

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The boy loves helping me with winding, and it’s fun to do together.  I love having a craft that is all my own that the boy (and, hopefully, the girl when she’s a bit older) can share with me.  Sometimes the boy “knits” with me, and it’s really cute.  He’s a bit too young to teach for real yet, but he’ll get the hang of it quickly when he starts.  Or if he starts.

I saw a recent Ravelry post where someone was lamenting the fact that their children did not share in their knitting, and it made me a bit sad.  I mean, I’m completely aware that the kids aren’t going to be into everything I am, but I’d love it if the kids were into this with me.  I think it’s beautiful, creative, and you get such a sense of accomplishment when you finish something tangible and can actually wear it.

More importantly, it’s something unique that the kids and could I do together.  Some parents play sports with their children, some go shooting, I’d love to knit with them.

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When we were all done, we had a nice little pyramid of yarn, all ready to go for a secret project! Can you guess based on the colors? (Hint: they’re NOT the colors of a collegiate sports team)

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Doing It All By Myself

The girl has become quite the little independent one.  When I drop her off at school, she screams (and I mean SCREAMS) if you try to carry her in instead of letting her walk.  She also insists on carrying her tiffin by herself.  Once I tried to help her by holding her tiffin as she clambered up the step into school.  She promptly sat down and began to wail until I handed her back the lunchbox.  She then placed it neatly on top of the step, struggled a bit to climb up, then picked up her tiffin and continued to toddle along.  This easily adds a good fifteen minutes to drop off in the morning, but there’s no way around it.

It’s pretty cool how capable she is, and rather tough, too, at least for an 18 month old.  Even with a faceplant off the slide, she picks herself right back up again, dusts herself off, and is ready to go:

Girly Girls and Boy-ey Boys

I wasn’t sure when gender identity is established in kids, but I’d thought it happens pretty young. Turns out that the initial establishment of gender identity happens at 18 to 30 months! While it takes a few more years to fully mature, I was surprised to learn that it begins that early.  I wonder how much of that has to do with how we treat and dress boys and girls differently, even from birth.  I always thought that I could just dress the girl in the boy’s hand-me-downs, and while the overall effect is adorable, you realize exactly how gendered kids’ clothing is from the get-go. Here’s a pic from a recent weekend day. Eric thought she looked like Jeff Tweedy dressed this way. (Of course, Eric sees Jeff Tweedy in everything, in the same way that religious fanatics find images of Jesus in toothpaste splatter.)

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Before I had kids, I assured myself that I would raise children in a open fashion, without making a boy do only “boy things” and vice-versa.  Some of this is ingrained in society and impossible to escape. Look closely at toy advertising–it is rare to see a typically gendered toy (such as a doll) being played with by a boy, or a Lego X-Wing fighter set played with by a girl.  There has been some progress, in that I’ve seen toy kitchens advertised with boys and…well…that’s all I can really come up with.  Disney is not about to use boys to market its “Princess” line.

Still, I think that it is generally more accepted now for girls to do things that have traditionally been the realm of boys, such as sports, whereas it is frowned upon for boys to engage in girl activities, like ballet.  It is interesting that the circle of possibilities has expanded for girls whereas it remains relatively narrow for boys.  Some of this can probably be attributed to feminism and its effects (Girl Power!) and some of it can likely be explained by homophobia.  For instance, the boy is into many things that are  “girly,” like wearing glittery barrettes.  I cannot tell you how many people have told me, only half-jokingly, that I should be “worried” about my son, as if having a gay child would be something dreadful.

For the boy’s birthday, I bought him a dollhouse as he had been asking for.  I found a good deal on a nice wooden house with matching furniture and proudly gave it to him on his birthday.

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He took one sad, disappointed look at me.  I thought he was going to tell me that he didn’t want it because it was for girls.

Instead, he wailed, “But Mommy! It’s not pretty enough!!”

That’s my boy.