Violet's Interview

I began doing kindergarten interviews this week. Each child comes into my class for some one-on-one time. I walk them around the classroom, talk with them about the things they're interested in, and do some "work" with them to find out if they know their colours, can draw a person, can identify their name, and count with one-to-one correspondence.

One little girl won me over the second I saw her coming down the hall with her Papa:

She'd gone out for a lunch date with my dad, and was so proud of her tights. She handed me a letter the moment she came into the classroom. It read:

Dear Mrs. Pinkerton

Please be kind to my little grandchild because she's only four years old, and still a baby in so many ways.

She really felt grown up as she put on her new shoes and tights, and felt she could still run in them.

I've combed her hair so pretty and found a tiny barrette so she would look cute for her teacher. I know she'll be happy at school because her mommy is her teacher.

Love and hugs, Nanny

Miss Violet wowed me with her grasp of the concepts she'll need coming into Junior Kindergarten (I already knew she'd ace the interview!). My mom's letter to me made me cry, so I got her back by sending THIS letter back to her with Violet (I give a copy to all the mothers on interview day):

The First Day



I gave you a little wink and smile
As you entered my room today.
For I know how hard it is to leave
And know your child must stay.


You've been with your child for four years now
And have been a loving guide,
But now, alas, the time has come
To leave her at my side.


Just know that as you drive away
And tears down your cheeks may flow
I'll love her as I would my own
And help her learn and grow.


For as a parent, I too know
How quickly the years do pass
And that one day soon it will be my turn
To take my child to class.


So please put your mind at ease
And cry those tears no more
For I will love her and take her in
When you leave her at my door.

When I got home, mom had tears in her eyes and said she couldn't read it until just before I returned from work.

Ah, the bittersweet nature of firsts...

carefree

Camping is fun. Packing for camping is not.

Back in my late teens and twenties, it was almost a competition amongst outdoorsy types, to see how little you could take with you for a week long canoe trip. A Thermarest, a sleeping bag that stuffed into a sack the size of  a loaf of bread, a little Primus stove, and a pack of matches...that was about it.

I'm five days into packing for a family of five's five-day camping trip. I've created framework organisers to keep track of every-weather clothing for all of us, packed and unpacked the kids' suitcase, and have anticipated every possible ailment that might occur. I'm ready for days of rain, with a bin full of playdough, craft materials, books (fiction and non-fiction!), and games. I have fishing rods, boogie boards, snorkels, goggles, and bikes.

All this packing had me exhausted before we've even leave home, and wondering if it's all worth it.

Then I remembered days at my cousins' cottage, when I was a child. There was always a dry towel wrapped lovingly around me when I finally emerged from the cold, northern lake. As the evening chill came on and the fire was lit, there was always a warm sweatshirt and a pair of track pants ready for me. We never thought about food; our mothers just set out cereal, peanut butter sandwiches, and copious amounts of Koolaid to get us through the day.

One of the many gifts our mother gave us was a carefree childhood. Of course we didn't think about bring rubber boots or bug repellent...kids shouldn't have to think about those things. Everything we needed was just there, as if by magic.

And now, all this packing feels like a privilege; I can now offer my children the same thing my mother gave me: warm pyjamas, plentiful snacks, dry clothes after a swim, and little flashlights to play with in the tent.

Of course, I've packed a basket of goodies for myself, just in case I find a moment to relax, after all this packing.

Here's to all the mothers out there, who work behind the scenes (birthdays, Christmas, trips, holidays) to make sure that their children's lives are fun, stimulating, safe, and most of all, carefree.

Emergency...Kind Of.

When you live out in the country and have three small kids, you worry about things. In the winter, I worry about fire. When I was pregnant with Margot, I used to lie awake making escape plans...Violet, who was one at the time, would be strapped onto my back. Jude, age three, would hang onto my neck. I'd shimmy down sheets tied together. Forget the fact that I was 8 months pregnant at the time. In my imagination, I gained superhuman upper body strength, and catlike agility.

When my husband is away for a night or two, I make sure all the windows are locked, double check the doors, and often dial my neighbour's number, then hit "end", just so I can hit "redial" if there's an emergency.

I'm not actually a paranoid person, generally. There's something about living way out of town, though, combined with exhaustion, that does things to my mind.

Last night, for some reason, my neighbour's number just didn't seem like enough. So I thought I'd dial 911, then hit "end". Because dialling "redial" is SO much quicker than dialing 911.

Did you know that 911 connects automatically, even if you hit "end"? I didn't.

Almost immediately, I got a call from OPP dispatch. They were going to send a car out, in spite of my assurances that all was well (aside from the fact that my husband left his three children in the care of a slightly delusional woman who calls herself "mom").

While this may seem like overkill, I find it reassuring that the police check in, even if the caller has confirmed that the call was accidental. Imagine a woman in a situation of domestic abuse, being threatened by her partner to tell the dispatcher that everything was fine.

Within 30 minutes, a cruiser pulled into our laneway (it was now about 11:30 at night). The floodlight scanned the farm (I'm sure the neighbours were wondering if I was being busted for late-night crafting), and the officer approached the house cautiously.

I came out on the porch in my shawl, and introduced myself. The officer is also a mother, and sympathised with the fact that I'm on my own with three kids for a few days. She took a look around the house, reassured me that yes, 911 does work, (and quickly, even if you don't speed dial it!), and told me she was nearby if I did really need her during the night.

I almost called at 5:30 a.m. when Jude woke up with a nosebleed.

And again at 6:15 a.m when my kids woke up for the day.

It may be time to store a baseball bat under my bed, to give me peace of mind when I'm here alone at night. If that doesn't suffice, I know that the OPP will be here if I ever need them.

Farm Friday: The Pirate Ship

Some kids live in cities or suburbs and attend classes, lessons, courses, and tutorials of all sorts.

Such things are not inaccessible to country kids, but it's a little harder when you have to drive 45 minutes to the nearest "big town".

Nah, country kids are lacking in opportunities. Life on a farm is boring.

Oh, except for the pirate ships.

I can take no credit for this construction; somehow, my husband conjured it out of some old 4x4s, logs, planks, and a tall post that was already in the ground, without my noticing (until it was done).

A bicycle wheel became the steering wheel (I know there's a technical term for that but, not being a mariner, I wouldn't know it). Old ropes serve as rigging, and that old windsurfer sail that's been kicking around for years? Just the right touch for this seaworthy craft.

Jude declares himself the Captain, and finds lots to occupy his imagination in this pile of boards.

This piece from an old bamboo windchime is the telescope...land ho! Check out that piratey stance (and that ever-fashionable pj pants and rubber boots ensemble!)

Grace O'Malley, the Irish pirate queen, drops anchor, then gets ready to hop in a rowboat to head to a nearby island, seeking treasure.

And the ever-present, pantless Cabin Girl practises her "Yarrrrr!"

My husband is a creative guy. He fixes things around the farm in his own quirky way. He sees purpose in items that others would write off as junk. I spend a day with the kids, and feel frustrated at how little I get done. He spends a day with the kids, and creates a Pirate Ship. God, I love that man.

Appearing, Puddleside

A magical creature, wearing brightly-coloured clothing, striped leggings, and a hood, appeared near a puddle at our home this past weekend. She did not seem to notice me as she gazed into the spring waters, perhaps admiring her fetching reflection. Soon, she was joined by another of her ilk:

I knew they must be of the same species of faery folk, judging by their stature, dialect, favourite colours,  hairstyles, and obvious penchant for hoods and stripes.

They briefly admired each other, then joined hands to find a bigger puddle to splash in...a rare sight indeed!

Preparing for Monday: Let's Get Cracking!

On each day of the March Break (with one day "off") I'll post ideas of activities you can do with your children ages 2-6. Many of the ideas can be adapted if you have older children.  I hope to post each day's ideas the dayjui before so you can prepare and plan ahead!

On Monday, we'll be celebrating the humble egg!

Culinary
In the morning, gently tap on the top of a few eggs; pick out the shell to create an opening on the top of the egg. Pour out the yolk and whites into a bowl and scramble. Set the shells aside...you'll need them later! Let your child help assemble this fun and delicious breakfast.

Now, make your breakfast:
Nest Eggs
1. Oil/grease the cups of a muffin tin (one per egg or person in your family; adults might eat 2 each)
2. Press a slice of ham into the muffin cup, to line it.
3. Pour some scrambled eggs into the ham cup, to about 3/4 full.
4. Pour about 1 tablespoon of cream on the egg, with a sprinkle of grated cheese, salt, pepper, and basil.

Bake at 350 degrees F for 15-20 min. (or less if you like your eggs soft). Serve on toast or an English muffin! My kids like these with a healthy dose of ketchup, of course!

Creative
Egg Heads!
You'll need:

• egg shells with tops cracked out, washed
• permanent marker
• a bit of planting mix/soil
• seeds (sunflower, alfalfa, red clover )

Fill the egg shell with soil. Spread seeds over the soil, and cover with a thin layer of more soil. Draw silly faces on the eggs with the permanent marker. Water gently, and set in an open carton in a sunny window, with some plastic wrap over them until they germinate. Now wait for the egg heads to grow "hair". Different seeds will produce different hairdos. Once their hair has grown, let your children give the egg heads a haircut! Eat the sprouts! 

Social/Outing
Contact your local library and find out what kids' activities are planned for the week! Or visit a local farm and see some newborn lambs or kids. If neither of these options works for you, call a friend with kids and get the gang together for a playdate. Find out if there are any kid-friendly matinees at your local theatre (for those of you in the Ottawa Valley, there will be a FREE puppet show and concert for children at Festival Hall in Pembroke on Monday, March 14 at 2 p.m.!) Your children may not be stir crazy yet, but it's a good idea to have at least one outing planned for the week!

Fine Motor

This may seem like a funny one to include, but this is a skill near and dear to my heart. Many children come into my Kindergarten class without having had any practice cutting with scissors or holding a pencil. We spend a lot of time working on this. Any experience your child has from the age of 2 on is a big help!

Today, give your child some straws; stripey ones or colourful ones are the most fun! These are easy to cut because they are not floppy like paper. Have your little one snip snip snip the straw into bits! Encourage them to keep the elbow of the cutting hand close to their body. This takes coordination and practice, as well as close supervision! You can help by doing "hand over hand" cutting (opening the scissors up is a particular challenge for beginners). Once your child is comfortable with cutting up straws, they can graduate to strips of cardstock, then strips of paper. Just being able to snip something narrow into little bits can be very satisfying for a wee one. They can then use a glue stick to paste the bits of paper on to a bigger sheet of paper! ART!

Your older child can cut up straws, then take the fine motor practice a step further by threading the pieces onto a piece of yarn. A blunt tapestry needle is helpful, or just wrap a bit of tape tightly around the end of the yarn (like the end of a shoelace). Wear the beautiful necklace your child created for you!

Join us tomorrow for Tuesday: Somewhere Over the Rainbow!
PS My apologies if I've broken any copyright laws by borrowing the photos in this post from the world wide web.

Post-Noel

On Christmas Eve, I lovingly placed these two little women on a rocking chair for my own little women to find the next morning.

In spite of my promise to myself to go to bed early, I decided at the last minute that their sweet little bunkbed needed mattresses and pillows, so out came the flannel and batting...

Margot was delighted to find a new baby to care for.

And both girls were delighted to find that the cats LOVE to nap in the bunk bed!

One thing I wasn't able to create by hand was the red Transformer Jude was dreaming of. Luckily, Santa helped out with that one! The Big Guy didn't come through on the pogo stick Jude requested at 9:00 pm on Christmas Eve; he did, however, write a note to Jude suggesting that he ask for one for his birthday, since pogo sticks are more a summer toy anyway. This seemed to satisfy my little man!

I plan to do one more post on Christmas; then we'll be looking forward to getting through the rest of the winter! I'm in a bit of a creative slump; all that purposeful hand-making before Christmas wore me out! I don't know what to do next...

Of course, I did start a new blog...because I'm not busy enough as it is! You can read my first post at Control Freak, where I examine and plan to challenge the unhealthy patterns I've created in my life. Please sign on as a follower and leave a comment to let me know you were there!

Random Moments

A few last shots from our dream weekend in a log cabin in the woods:

Margot, a book, and those luscious toddler-legs!

Like a wee acorn under an oak tree...Margot and her daddy.

Margot yet again, watching her siblings and cousins sliding outside.

Me, the voyeur, looking through the window at my brother and sister washing dishes!

And Margot (again!), helping Nanny wash the dishes.

A week has passed since that blissful Christmassy getaway, and we're already dreaming about next year!

Toboggans and Crazy Carpets

Sometimes you have a moment where you see your life from another's perspective. I had one of those moments when we took the kids out sliding the other day. Mom said, "What would a person in India say if they saw us out here playing in the snow?"

We live in Canada. We swim and sunbathe in the summer. We grow gardens, cut our lawns, and wear bare feet all summer long.

Then it snows.

And we do all sorts of things in the snow. We ski, snowmobile, snowshoe, snowboard, and of course, we toboggan. We sit on some kind of slippery vehicle: a wooden sled, or a thin sheet of plastic called a crazy carpet, then slide down a hill. A plastic bag will work in a pinch.

That's it. That's tobogganing! It's good exercise, and it's fun. It can make a 65-year-old feel like a child again.

Little ones sometimes need a bit of coercion to get dressed for the elements...

Grown-ups are helpful for carrying sleds...

...and kids up the hill!

The type of sled plus the child's body weight will elicit different velocities...

and babies and toddlers should travel with a grown-up!

Wiping out is part of the fun, especially when you have a friend or cousin to share it with!

After a healthy dose of giggles, get off the trail so the next slider doesn't run you over! 

Babies don't find wipe-outs as fun as mommies do...

Who can slide down a snowy hill without laughing their head off?

Margot was content to hang out in my arms, listening to me talk about the wonders of snow, and her proud Canadian heritage...

Yes, we're a strange bunch, we Northern folk. We make do with what the skies give us, and for the next three-to-four months, what the skies will give us is white stuff. We plow it off our driveways, trudge through it, and put snow tires on our cars to drive to work. We listen to the radio on REALLY snowy days, and a chorus of "HOORAYS" can almost be heard through the countryside when the announcer tells us the buses have been cancelled. We use any excuse to drink hot chocolate (with Bailey's for the grownups), throw snowballs, build snowmen (and occasionally women), put snow down each others' backs, and wear snowpants and parkas and tuques without shame.

And sometimes, just 'cause it's fun, we sit on things and slide down hills.

Cabin in the Woods

I'm aware that some people's idea of hell would be a weekend spent with their whole family in a cabin in the woods, with no cell reception, internet, or television.

Still, it has been a long-held dream of mine to escape the commercialism and busyness of Christmas Present, and find a cabin in which to celebrate a version of Christmas Past. Back in August, I contacted Carole Van Massenhoven of Twin Wheels Farm, and after a brief "what do you think?" email to my siblings and parents, to which everyone replied, "yes", I booked a cabin for a weekend in faraway December.

Well, December arrived, and we were thrilled to have snow for our early-Christmas gathering. Mom and I landed in first, with my kids, to find a beautiful, open-concept, sunny and clean space in which to celebrate. The woodstove was burning merrily and we set about putting away food, claiming bedrooms, and settling in.

Then came all the ingredients that pulled our weekend together into a perfect memory:

Hugs for each safe arrival;

a simple, natural tree in a corner;

a selection of hand-knit hats;

boots, mittens, and hats left to dry by the fire;

an energetic aunt who carried the little ones up the hill again and again;

a table big enough to seat all of us at once, made by Carole's husband Joe from a tree that grew in their yard;

post-meal snoozing;

and of course, lots of board- and card-games to pass the evenings.

To those looking in from "out there", I know this seems more than idyllic; you see a perfect family, happy together, healthy and perfectly content. And I will admit, that for this one weekend, we were that family. It may have been the fact that no one drank excessively (as we used to do when we were younger!) or that we were forced to just be together, with nowhere else to go, no hockey games to watch on television, and no interruptions by phone or email. The children got along beautifully, and were so peaceful. My theory is that they had the full, undivided attention of the grownups they love; what could be more satisfying for a child than the security of being surrounded by trusted adults? There was no rushing around, and no distractions. When they wanted to play a game, we did. When they wanted to read 10 Christmas storybooks in a row, we did.

The word for the weekend was "yes", and as always, I'm amazed at the power of that one little word.

Stay tuned for more details of our magical weekend...

Culinary Adventures

They say that one of the hardest things to say is "I'm sorry".

If this is true, then the second hardest thing to say is "Yes".

There are so many appropriate reasons to say no. No, you can't watch another movie. No, you can't eat hotdogs for every meal. No, playing with a saw is not safe.

But let's face it: often we say no just to save ourselves the mess we know will ensue when they ask to play with glue, paint, and glitter. Or because it would be so much quicker to make pancakes or wash dishes without their help.

Still, sometimes you are granted a moment's grace, where you realise that every quest of a child, no matter how messy or annoying, is an opportunity for them to learn, create, and grow.

So when Jude asked to make soup, I said "Yes".

Go get your cookbooks and a pen, now, because I know you're going to want to write this down. In a small saucepan, combine grapes, bread, blueberries, rice milk, some Cheerios, and a healthy dose of sea salt. Make up the quantities as you go.

After much stirring and tweaking, Jude decided he wanted to eat his concoction for dinner. Good mama that I am (it was actually a bit of a struggle for me), I said, "Yes". Then along came the hardest request to say yes to: "Want to try some, mommy?"

But I did. I tasted it. It was sweet. And very salty. I managed to avoid consuming any of the solid, floaty things. Not to be outdone, daddy (who is a bit squeamish about certain textures of food) tried it. Even Violet, the picky eater of the family, gamely gave it a try.

 

Here's what she thought: 

Jude asked for a "side" of spaghetti, which is what the rest of us were eating. He was so proud of his creation, and delighted that we all tried it. He'll never know that we were all lying through our teeth when we said, "Yum!" What he'll remember is one word:

Yes.