Geekyboy used to be a true water baby. He didn't object to his bathtub even in the earliest days, and as he grew older he positively delighted in the water. One of his earliest phrases was "water 'plash 'plash", and whenever we walk back from one of our local hilltop parks, he sees the bay in the distance and says "Ocean, water, splash!" He would play happily in any body of water. Including on one occasion in a puddle of dog urine, though that is perhaps left unmentioned.
But last week he developed a sudden fear of the bath. I know this is the classic age for fears to set in (Geekyboy is 22 months old at the moment), so it was bound to be something, but I was surprised at the swift about turn in his attitude to water. In retrospect I think I started it. Last week he had a mild tummy bug. I noticed the ominous note at daycare "Your child may have been exposed to viral gastroenteritis", and the massive washing of toys that the poor teachers had to do on top of their usual tasks. Sure enough, when I went to check on the kids before going to bed one night last week, I found my sweet boy face down in a mess of regurgitated hot dogs and cheese chunks. He must have been sick in his sleep, always a scary prospect, but after a flash of fear, I could see he was breathing deeply and seemed not to notice the smell and mess he was lying in. I noted while cleaning up that he doesn't seem to chew his food, as it looked much like it had on his plate at dinner time!
I had to wake the poor boy, and plunge him into the tub to shower him off. It being almost midnight, and hosing down vomitty kids not being one of my favourite tasks, I was maybe not as gentle as I could have been. After that abrupt and soggy awakening his water fear arose. Geekydaddy bathed him the next night, and made the mistake of turning on the handheld shower to make extra bubbles. Thinking he was going to be sprayed down again, a slippery, soapy geekyboy leapt from the tub like a greased piglet, Geekydaddy just grabbed him in time, he almost fell headfirst from the tub onto the tiled floor. I had no idea he was even able to get out of the tub of his own volition, but I guess fear is a powerful motivator.
The next evening I announced as I usually do "five minutes until tubtime", and Geekyboy, instead of coming to help me turn the taps on and add the bubbles, stood stock still with the saddest, most scared look on his little face. Geekyboy has wonderfully expressive features, and his downturned mouth is almost comical in its cartoonlike depiction of sadness. "NO Tub. Tub 'cary". he announced. I tried to placate him but he was emphatic in his denial.
When the tub was ready I called the kids again, and Geekyboy slunk in, like a lamb to the slaughter, face the picture of misery. I have started to realize, that unlike his sister who is the very definition of oppositional, Geekboy likes to oblige us. I was touched that even though his every bone was crying out not to be put in that tub, he did as he was asked. "Ready tub", he said, in a sad resigned tone I would not have thought that a child of his young age was capable of, steeling himself for the inevitable. I popped him in gently, where he knelt, holding on to the side, rigid with fear, and gave him a quick lick and polish, then pulled him out into his fluffy towel. His sister, avoiding the potential for a screaming tub companion, decided to wait until he was out before taking her own bath.
By the end of a week of this I needed to enlist her help. Bathtime, after all, used to be one of the most fun parts of the evening. Also, while the kids splash and play, I read the editorials in the New York Times while simultaneously singing songs about ducks and frogs and bubbles, and I had missed out on all the past weeks news analysis. I asked Geekygirl to join her brother. She distracted him by giving him bubbly epaulets and blowing them off his shoulders. She helped him bath his duckies, and made bubble soup for them both to eat. And lo and behold Geekyboy started to get into it. Soon he was splashing, playing and eating bubbles just like he used to! I think our bout of hydrophobia has passed. At least until I have to wash his hair again!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
It's beginning to feel a bit like Christmas
As Thanksgiving rolled into Christmas, the nagging to do list I carry with me everywhere, in my iphone and in my brain, threatened to become overwhelming. I don't mean to be a complainer, but since being given new responsibility at work (which was much desired, be careful what you wish for!) a role that has me managing eight people, on top of my responsibilities as the mother of two small children, a dog and two cats, I feel I am barely able to do even a half arsed job at any of it most of the time. Managing, parenting, critical scientific thinking (which is apparently what I'm paid for, God help my employer) were exhausting me. Christmas just felt like one more list of uncompletable tasks.
Geekydaddy is no help at all, as he would gladly forget about Christmas. As a pragmatic atheist he has has no time for the excess, the spending and the waste associated with the Holiday. Every year he suggests we erect a "festivus pole" like George's family on Seinfeld, instead of a tree. I suspend my athiesm for the holiday, because I have a nostalgia for the Christmas story generated by years of school nativity plays and church manger scenes, a love of Christmas Carols, and really I have nothing against the baby Jesus. To me he represents the promise all children hold.
But a small miracle seems to have happened. The Christmas spirit has crept up on me. Maybe its the wintery weather; gloom, drizzle and pouring rain that would do Britain proud. Maybe it is because I have a pile of wrapped presents in the basement, I have mailed my cards and my gifts to the UK only one day past the latest garunteed posting date, I have Christmas crackers from the British store, where I also found black treacle (for my cake, its baking still being on the to do list), and jars of mincemeat (for the mince pies, ditto). The house even looks festive. I hadn't planned on decorating here at home because we will go up to Tahoe for the Christmas and New Years break, and we will get a Christmas tree up there. But on one of my many morning trips to Target, chipping away at the shopping in 20 minute chunks stolen from my commute, I picked up some fake tree garland and grabbed a rather sweet ornamental snowman and a couple of boxes of lights (low energy LED to keep my Scrooge happy).
Geekygirl had been exclaiming in delight at other decorated houses, and I secretly shared her pleasure. I wanted lights too! When I opened the ones I had purchased I realized they were neon blue (the same colour as the box they came in, that should have been a clue!), and arranged in a flexible tube. I lacked the energy to return them, so I put them over the fireplace along with the garland. I'm not sure whether my mantle is celebrating Christmas, Hannukah or is disguised as a bar from a provincial nightclub circa 1987, but the kids like it!
What really tipped the balance, though, was our family trip to a Holiday concert at the Symphony hall. Yes, we took an almost four year old and and almost two year old to the symphony and survived. San Francisco has a wonderful symphony orchestra, and in the brief window of wealth Geekydaddy and I enjoyed after leaving crappy academic jobs for more lucrative ones and before saddling ourselves with two kids and two mortgages, we had season tickets. I recalled going for drinks before our concert one evening in December, just as a family concert was ending. Children and parents, dressed for the occasion, milling around and chattering excitedly about the music they had heard. I noticed in particular one family with a beautiful auburn haired little girl, resplendent in red velvet, tulle and ribbons, and a tiny boy in a miniature suit, both skipping along between their mother and father, and I hoped that one day I would be that mum, introducing my city born children to this sophisticated world.
So taking the kids to the Symphony for the first time was a big deal. It could have gone very badly, since there was sugar cookie decorating with our neighbour that morning (for decorating read eating), but amazingly the kids managed to nap despite gorging on frosting, awoke just in time to get dressed and to get out of the house (though not in time for me to win the negotiation on what should be worn), in time for us to get nearby parking (an unbelievable $40.00, someone's making a buck off Christmas), and even to look at the decorated trees in the Symphony hall before the performance. Geekygirl was transfixed by the music. The drums were so loud, the strings so pure, each instrument easily distinguished and clearly visible from our seats. The orchestra played pieces from the nutcracker suite, then the featured performance of "Peter and the Wolf", (a sanitized version where nothing dies, thanks goodness), followed by a rousing holiday sing along of "Rudolph the red nosed reindeer," "We wish you a Merry Christmas" and "Jingle Bells". Geekyboy managed half an hour of rapt attention, then wanted to play with the seats, so Geekydaddy extracted him to run about outside for the rest of the show.
But for a few minutes there, as both kids got lost in the music, I was able to lose myself too, and I felt tears spring to my eyes at the perfection of our little family and this wonderful shared experience.
Maybe next year I can even win the outfit negotiation, and get Geekygirl into a red velvet dress, instead of a unseasonal short sleeved pink cotton jersey one, picked up wrinkled and almost clean from out of the dirty laundry. Now that really would be perfect!
Here she is, pretty in pink by the pink tree, city hall glittering behind.
Geekydaddy is no help at all, as he would gladly forget about Christmas. As a pragmatic atheist he has has no time for the excess, the spending and the waste associated with the Holiday. Every year he suggests we erect a "festivus pole" like George's family on Seinfeld, instead of a tree. I suspend my athiesm for the holiday, because I have a nostalgia for the Christmas story generated by years of school nativity plays and church manger scenes, a love of Christmas Carols, and really I have nothing against the baby Jesus. To me he represents the promise all children hold.
But a small miracle seems to have happened. The Christmas spirit has crept up on me. Maybe its the wintery weather; gloom, drizzle and pouring rain that would do Britain proud. Maybe it is because I have a pile of wrapped presents in the basement, I have mailed my cards and my gifts to the UK only one day past the latest garunteed posting date, I have Christmas crackers from the British store, where I also found black treacle (for my cake, its baking still being on the to do list), and jars of mincemeat (for the mince pies, ditto). The house even looks festive. I hadn't planned on decorating here at home because we will go up to Tahoe for the Christmas and New Years break, and we will get a Christmas tree up there. But on one of my many morning trips to Target, chipping away at the shopping in 20 minute chunks stolen from my commute, I picked up some fake tree garland and grabbed a rather sweet ornamental snowman and a couple of boxes of lights (low energy LED to keep my Scrooge happy).
Geekygirl had been exclaiming in delight at other decorated houses, and I secretly shared her pleasure. I wanted lights too! When I opened the ones I had purchased I realized they were neon blue (the same colour as the box they came in, that should have been a clue!), and arranged in a flexible tube. I lacked the energy to return them, so I put them over the fireplace along with the garland. I'm not sure whether my mantle is celebrating Christmas, Hannukah or is disguised as a bar from a provincial nightclub circa 1987, but the kids like it!
What really tipped the balance, though, was our family trip to a Holiday concert at the Symphony hall. Yes, we took an almost four year old and and almost two year old to the symphony and survived. San Francisco has a wonderful symphony orchestra, and in the brief window of wealth Geekydaddy and I enjoyed after leaving crappy academic jobs for more lucrative ones and before saddling ourselves with two kids and two mortgages, we had season tickets. I recalled going for drinks before our concert one evening in December, just as a family concert was ending. Children and parents, dressed for the occasion, milling around and chattering excitedly about the music they had heard. I noticed in particular one family with a beautiful auburn haired little girl, resplendent in red velvet, tulle and ribbons, and a tiny boy in a miniature suit, both skipping along between their mother and father, and I hoped that one day I would be that mum, introducing my city born children to this sophisticated world.
So taking the kids to the Symphony for the first time was a big deal. It could have gone very badly, since there was sugar cookie decorating with our neighbour that morning (for decorating read eating), but amazingly the kids managed to nap despite gorging on frosting, awoke just in time to get dressed and to get out of the house (though not in time for me to win the negotiation on what should be worn), in time for us to get nearby parking (an unbelievable $40.00, someone's making a buck off Christmas), and even to look at the decorated trees in the Symphony hall before the performance. Geekygirl was transfixed by the music. The drums were so loud, the strings so pure, each instrument easily distinguished and clearly visible from our seats. The orchestra played pieces from the nutcracker suite, then the featured performance of "Peter and the Wolf", (a sanitized version where nothing dies, thanks goodness), followed by a rousing holiday sing along of "Rudolph the red nosed reindeer," "We wish you a Merry Christmas" and "Jingle Bells". Geekyboy managed half an hour of rapt attention, then wanted to play with the seats, so Geekydaddy extracted him to run about outside for the rest of the show.
But for a few minutes there, as both kids got lost in the music, I was able to lose myself too, and I felt tears spring to my eyes at the perfection of our little family and this wonderful shared experience.
Maybe next year I can even win the outfit negotiation, and get Geekygirl into a red velvet dress, instead of a unseasonal short sleeved pink cotton jersey one, picked up wrinkled and almost clean from out of the dirty laundry. Now that really would be perfect!
Here she is, pretty in pink by the pink tree, city hall glittering behind.
Friday, December 11, 2009
I love the cable car
I did it, I just finished writing all of our Christmas cards. They may even get to their destinations before Christmas at this rate, If I remember to buy stamps and post them on time!
I used to select classy, secular holiday cards to send out to my friends and family, but since becoming a parent, and with the advent of "Snapfish" and their ilk, I have for the past three years sent a holiday card created from a picture of the children. One year we got a freak snow in Tahoe in September, which allowed me to create a lovely card of baby Geekygirl in the snow in time for the holiday post, but this year we were not so lucky. Instead this year our family photo turned card is a classic San Francisco pose of the Geekyfamily riding the cable car.
I didn't put any forethought into this, since planned photographs usually turn out terribly. What happened was that a few weeks ago the kids were watching their Saturday morning allotment of DVD's, and for some reason Geekygirl had chosen an old "teletubbies' episode to watch. The scene displayed by Tinky Winky's tummy, was of kids riding the cable car, right here in San Francisco. "Mummy, can I ride a cable car?" Geekygirl asked. I realized that our little born and bred San Franciscan had in fact never ridden on one. How ridiculous that she should be sitting here watching them on a British import DVD, I thought, and replied "You can darling. We'll go today".
We stood for about half an hour in the line winding its way in front of the GAP flagship store, then boarded our car. The children were fascinated by the noise and crowds and the lurching, jerking speed of the little wooden car with its jaunty bell. We rode out to Fisherman's Wharf on the Mason/Powell line, which goes right past the hotel where Geekydaddy and I got married. It was bright and blustery down at the wharf, the bay azure, the sky perfectly blue. A postcard day. We saw the sea lions (Geekyboy now thinks he can speak sea lion), walked along the wharf and had some burgers and shakes then headed back again on the Hyde/Powell line, which goes right past Geekydaddy's old apartment, the one he lived in when we first met. The cars were filled with tourists, so we chatted to them, I love to welcome people to our city, and I took a few pictures for folk. As we sat on an empty car at the end of the line I was inspired to grab a passing tourist to return the favor, and this rare snap of us all together has found great use as our San Francisco themed holiday card!
What we intended as a fun trip for the kids turned into a trip down memory lane for Geekydaddy and I. Flying up and down those hills with our enthralled children, our minds were both in the moment, and back in other moments in time. We fell in love with the city all over again. And our thoughts were perfectly echoed by Geekygirl, who, nose against the glass, reflected "I love the cable car".
I"m not much of a photographer, but was rather pleased with this iphone snap.
I used to select classy, secular holiday cards to send out to my friends and family, but since becoming a parent, and with the advent of "Snapfish" and their ilk, I have for the past three years sent a holiday card created from a picture of the children. One year we got a freak snow in Tahoe in September, which allowed me to create a lovely card of baby Geekygirl in the snow in time for the holiday post, but this year we were not so lucky. Instead this year our family photo turned card is a classic San Francisco pose of the Geekyfamily riding the cable car.
I didn't put any forethought into this, since planned photographs usually turn out terribly. What happened was that a few weeks ago the kids were watching their Saturday morning allotment of DVD's, and for some reason Geekygirl had chosen an old "teletubbies' episode to watch. The scene displayed by Tinky Winky's tummy, was of kids riding the cable car, right here in San Francisco. "Mummy, can I ride a cable car?" Geekygirl asked. I realized that our little born and bred San Franciscan had in fact never ridden on one. How ridiculous that she should be sitting here watching them on a British import DVD, I thought, and replied "You can darling. We'll go today".
We stood for about half an hour in the line winding its way in front of the GAP flagship store, then boarded our car. The children were fascinated by the noise and crowds and the lurching, jerking speed of the little wooden car with its jaunty bell. We rode out to Fisherman's Wharf on the Mason/Powell line, which goes right past the hotel where Geekydaddy and I got married. It was bright and blustery down at the wharf, the bay azure, the sky perfectly blue. A postcard day. We saw the sea lions (Geekyboy now thinks he can speak sea lion), walked along the wharf and had some burgers and shakes then headed back again on the Hyde/Powell line, which goes right past Geekydaddy's old apartment, the one he lived in when we first met. The cars were filled with tourists, so we chatted to them, I love to welcome people to our city, and I took a few pictures for folk. As we sat on an empty car at the end of the line I was inspired to grab a passing tourist to return the favor, and this rare snap of us all together has found great use as our San Francisco themed holiday card!
What we intended as a fun trip for the kids turned into a trip down memory lane for Geekydaddy and I. Flying up and down those hills with our enthralled children, our minds were both in the moment, and back in other moments in time. We fell in love with the city all over again. And our thoughts were perfectly echoed by Geekygirl, who, nose against the glass, reflected "I love the cable car".
I"m not much of a photographer, but was rather pleased with this iphone snap.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
economic downturn hits home.
Next week is going to be a tough one. Our daycare/preschool is having to lay off some teachers. With the terrible state of the economy, the center is not fully enrolled, and we have more teachers than can be supported by the student fees. The center is run by a charity, the YMCA, and supported by the city too, but even so, funds are low and it is crunch time. Staff have been on 7 hr days for a while now to save money.
I'm on the parent steering committee for the school, and we found out about these plans just before Thanksgiving. The intention was for the layoff of four teachers to happen last week, on November 30th. The director called all parents individually to let them know, but for human recourse/liability reasons the teachers did not know. This seemed like an odd communication policy, but still we were glad to be informed in advance. The steering committee rallied the parents and wrote an eloquent proposal to try and keep at least two of the positions by putting together an action team to increase enrollment. You see all of our teachers are wonderful, our kids love them. They work as a team to design and execute a great curriculum. It will be such a loss if any of them are let go. The YMCA director gave us a weeks grace to hear our concerns, but in the end it has made no difference.
The center is wonderful, but we feel underadvertized. They used to have a coporate partnership with a large biotech company, but what with this company opening its own on site care facility, and the contraction in the economy, the long waiting list of kids they have enjoyed for years dried up. I got on the wait list with both of mine when I was about 4 months pregnant, and just squeaked them in when my maternity leave was up. They have never really had to market the place before. The website is very dull, and the emphasis is on daycare, which they do really well, rather than preschool, which they also do well, but it seems to float under the radar and not atrract parents seeking preschool, often a different set than those seeking group care for infants, since many people use a nanny for the early years then look for preschool when their children turn two or three.
The parent comittee met with the branch YMCA director on Thursday night, and she let us know that the layoffs had to proceed as planned this coming week. We are all rather angry that we didn't get more notice about the severity of the situation, as we feel that we could have turned things around. She has two kids in the center herself, so she is invested in keeping up the quality of teaching and care, and she did help us realize that they had already put quite a lot of effort into increasing enrollment, and that maybe the environment was tougher than we realized. We had ideas that she didn't though, so she committed to working with us to promote the center to a broader community.
We are all on tenderhooks as to who will be dismissed. It seems the preschool will be hardest hit. California state ratios for 3yr olds are 1 teacher to 12 kids, and that is the ratio that our center is supposed to be staffed for, though it has rarely been that high. Our preschool is mixed age, three to five and a half. At the moment there are 30 kids and 5 teachers, divided into a class of 18 with three teachers and a class of 12 with two. This is a wonderfully low ratio which allows them to work with groups of 6 kids divided by age and ability. They plan on taking it back to 1:12. We're worried that this will impact the teachers ability to work individually with the children, and will also be a lot of stress on the teachers. Ther are some spirited kids in the class (mine included), and they really benefit from the low staff to student ratio.
It is also going to break my daughters heart to lose any of her teachers, she loves them all so much, hugs them hello and goodbye every day. Teacher D. has taught her how to count in Spanish, teacher A. is teaching her to read short words already because she is so interested in reading and teacher G. knows how to diffuse her tantrums. Change is hard for Geekygirl, and it upsets me that she will be losing some of these very important people in her life. Geekyboy too is very tighly bonded to his beloved carers, and Geekydaddy and I value these people very highly. They take care of our children. I don't want them to dissappear from our lives. I hope that we can stay in touch, and plan on doing my utmost to help them find new jobs (and I hope that perhaps they will be able to babysit for us now, the center has a policy of not asking teachers to babysit!)
I suppose we have to live with it and move on. Times are hard for everyone. I'm heading up the marketing committee, and my first task is to gussy up the website. If you look at the current one it doesn't tell you much. You wouldn't look at this and know for example that we have:
A modern, light facility with large outdoor play yard
A highly credentialed staff and a history of good staff retention
An active parent community
Preschool for children who are not yet toilet trained
Enrichment programs like "tumble bus gymnastics" and "soccer shots" (and maybe also language programs, this is planned)
A lending library
A diverse student body and teaching staff
A video system so you can watch your kids remotely while you work.
We're going to add this type of information, and pictures, examples of curriculum and activities, parent testimonials and teacher biographies. If you have a moment to let me know what you would like to see if your were looking for a preschool or daycare for your child, that would be very useful feedback. This is a fantastic place for a child to learn grow, whether you are a full time working parent, or an at home parent who wants their child in a preschool, and we want to be able to showcase it. Maybe we will be able to bring back some of our beloved teachers, and bring more kids into our little family.
I'm hoping the future will be brighter, but I am not looking forward to next week.
I'm on the parent steering committee for the school, and we found out about these plans just before Thanksgiving. The intention was for the layoff of four teachers to happen last week, on November 30th. The director called all parents individually to let them know, but for human recourse/liability reasons the teachers did not know. This seemed like an odd communication policy, but still we were glad to be informed in advance. The steering committee rallied the parents and wrote an eloquent proposal to try and keep at least two of the positions by putting together an action team to increase enrollment. You see all of our teachers are wonderful, our kids love them. They work as a team to design and execute a great curriculum. It will be such a loss if any of them are let go. The YMCA director gave us a weeks grace to hear our concerns, but in the end it has made no difference.
The center is wonderful, but we feel underadvertized. They used to have a coporate partnership with a large biotech company, but what with this company opening its own on site care facility, and the contraction in the economy, the long waiting list of kids they have enjoyed for years dried up. I got on the wait list with both of mine when I was about 4 months pregnant, and just squeaked them in when my maternity leave was up. They have never really had to market the place before. The website is very dull, and the emphasis is on daycare, which they do really well, rather than preschool, which they also do well, but it seems to float under the radar and not atrract parents seeking preschool, often a different set than those seeking group care for infants, since many people use a nanny for the early years then look for preschool when their children turn two or three.
The parent comittee met with the branch YMCA director on Thursday night, and she let us know that the layoffs had to proceed as planned this coming week. We are all rather angry that we didn't get more notice about the severity of the situation, as we feel that we could have turned things around. She has two kids in the center herself, so she is invested in keeping up the quality of teaching and care, and she did help us realize that they had already put quite a lot of effort into increasing enrollment, and that maybe the environment was tougher than we realized. We had ideas that she didn't though, so she committed to working with us to promote the center to a broader community.
We are all on tenderhooks as to who will be dismissed. It seems the preschool will be hardest hit. California state ratios for 3yr olds are 1 teacher to 12 kids, and that is the ratio that our center is supposed to be staffed for, though it has rarely been that high. Our preschool is mixed age, three to five and a half. At the moment there are 30 kids and 5 teachers, divided into a class of 18 with three teachers and a class of 12 with two. This is a wonderfully low ratio which allows them to work with groups of 6 kids divided by age and ability. They plan on taking it back to 1:12. We're worried that this will impact the teachers ability to work individually with the children, and will also be a lot of stress on the teachers. Ther are some spirited kids in the class (mine included), and they really benefit from the low staff to student ratio.
It is also going to break my daughters heart to lose any of her teachers, she loves them all so much, hugs them hello and goodbye every day. Teacher D. has taught her how to count in Spanish, teacher A. is teaching her to read short words already because she is so interested in reading and teacher G. knows how to diffuse her tantrums. Change is hard for Geekygirl, and it upsets me that she will be losing some of these very important people in her life. Geekyboy too is very tighly bonded to his beloved carers, and Geekydaddy and I value these people very highly. They take care of our children. I don't want them to dissappear from our lives. I hope that we can stay in touch, and plan on doing my utmost to help them find new jobs (and I hope that perhaps they will be able to babysit for us now, the center has a policy of not asking teachers to babysit!)
I suppose we have to live with it and move on. Times are hard for everyone. I'm heading up the marketing committee, and my first task is to gussy up the website. If you look at the current one it doesn't tell you much. You wouldn't look at this and know for example that we have:
A modern, light facility with large outdoor play yard
A highly credentialed staff and a history of good staff retention
An active parent community
Preschool for children who are not yet toilet trained
Enrichment programs like "tumble bus gymnastics" and "soccer shots" (and maybe also language programs, this is planned)
A lending library
A diverse student body and teaching staff
A video system so you can watch your kids remotely while you work.
We're going to add this type of information, and pictures, examples of curriculum and activities, parent testimonials and teacher biographies. If you have a moment to let me know what you would like to see if your were looking for a preschool or daycare for your child, that would be very useful feedback. This is a fantastic place for a child to learn grow, whether you are a full time working parent, or an at home parent who wants their child in a preschool, and we want to be able to showcase it. Maybe we will be able to bring back some of our beloved teachers, and bring more kids into our little family.
I'm hoping the future will be brighter, but I am not looking forward to next week.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
The journey is the destination
This is written across the front of one of my cross country ski shirts, and is meant to convey a message about that sport, but I feel it is a good slogan for parenting, or just life in general. I took up cross country skiing when I met Geekydaddy. The first winter that we were dating he paid my share of a ski lease cabin, something he and his friends did every year. He's always been a generous guy. At the time I was a post doctoral fellow with very little disposable income, and he figured if he wanted to see me at all I needed to come up to the cabin. I now know that he was very much hoping I would love the mountains and their associated sports as much as he did. It was a wise move on his part, this was the beginning of a long love affair, with the mountains and with each other.
Geekdaddy is an avid winter sportsman, he skis and snowboards like a pro, having spent most of his youth in Switzerland. We have a fantastic picture of him on the cabin wall, taken when he was in his late teens, performing a jump from a peak in Verbiere on one of the very first snowboards. I love to downhill ski too, though I am far less skilled, but I had never tried the cross country "nordic" type of skiing. I don't know many Brits who do. You may have seen it on the winter olympics, men and women in vivid lycra outfits flying along groomed trails with an arm and leg action just like those NordicTrak gym machines. By the end of that first winter I was hooked. The trails, winding peacefully between snow coated pines, reminded me of how I pictured Narnia, when Lucy first walks through the wardrobe into the land where it was 'always winter but never Christmas'. I loved the rhythm of the push and pole movement and the pounding of my heart in the cold air, the struggle to climb the peaks on the flimsy toothpick skis, and the thrill of careening down the hills, barely in control. That first winter I bought a second hand set of skis, boots and poles. Geekydaddy was a little concerned about this level of commitment, though I assured him it was to the sport, not necessarily to him!
Yesterday we got Geekygirl up on cross country skis for the first time. She has experienced the sport before, being towed in a pulk (rather like the sleds used by arctic explorers to pull their supplies across the tundra), but this year we felt she was ready to try under her own steam. The expedition started badly. Though bright, it was a cold day and occasional gusts of wind would whip ice crystals against our faces. The sensation was too much for Geekygirl, and she started to howl. This set her brother off, so I stood at the entrance to the trails holding two wailing children, my supply of tissues decimated after the first five minutes.
My holiday reading of "Raising Your Spirited Child" - a great book if you have such a creature in your life, reminded me that she likely was genuinely overwhelmed by the situation, so I kept my cool, empathized with her, and talked about the plans for the rest of the day while we waited for Geekydaddy to assemble the pulks. We bundled them in, still hysterical, watched by concerned fellow skiers, mainly young couples who were probably silently thinking "God, I'll never have kids". With a supply of blankets, tissues and stuffed animals cocooned into their pods, set off, hoping the motion and the scenery would soothe them (and us!).
It worked. I had forgotten how much I loved the sport, as I felt long unsused muscules stretch and strive, felt my lungs open deeply to capture oxygen in the refined mountain air. The snow was powdery and the pulks glided almost effortlessly, as we pulled our entranced passengers though the forest. They dozed, and we strode on. Before returning to the lodge to eat, we even got Geekygirl up on the little skis we had rented for her. Geekydaddy learned to ski at four, and from the day she was born he has looked forward to teaching his daughter. Things sometimes don't go well between Geekdaddy and his daughter. They frustrate each other, (they are too similar!), he finds her very hard to parent (which she can be), and I was crossing my fingers that this oh so important Father Daughter moment would go well. I left well alone and let him do it his way.
And she loved it. She let him support her, she listened to him, he was encouraging and patient and funny and she got the hang of it. Best of all, after lunch when we asked her if she wanted to ride or ski she said "I want to put my skis on again" and had another try. I noticed her lovely, inward smile of pride at her achievement. Then she was done, she discarded the skis, and hopped back in the pulk. We did another few laps of the trails, side by side, towing a child each. I looked down at my trusty skis, remembering that first season and casting my mind back over the intervening years. I spoke my thoughts out loud to Geekydaddy.
"Remember when I bought these skis, and you thought I might be making too much of a commitment to you?!"
The journey is the destination.
Geekdaddy is an avid winter sportsman, he skis and snowboards like a pro, having spent most of his youth in Switzerland. We have a fantastic picture of him on the cabin wall, taken when he was in his late teens, performing a jump from a peak in Verbiere on one of the very first snowboards. I love to downhill ski too, though I am far less skilled, but I had never tried the cross country "nordic" type of skiing. I don't know many Brits who do. You may have seen it on the winter olympics, men and women in vivid lycra outfits flying along groomed trails with an arm and leg action just like those NordicTrak gym machines. By the end of that first winter I was hooked. The trails, winding peacefully between snow coated pines, reminded me of how I pictured Narnia, when Lucy first walks through the wardrobe into the land where it was 'always winter but never Christmas'. I loved the rhythm of the push and pole movement and the pounding of my heart in the cold air, the struggle to climb the peaks on the flimsy toothpick skis, and the thrill of careening down the hills, barely in control. That first winter I bought a second hand set of skis, boots and poles. Geekydaddy was a little concerned about this level of commitment, though I assured him it was to the sport, not necessarily to him!
Yesterday we got Geekygirl up on cross country skis for the first time. She has experienced the sport before, being towed in a pulk (rather like the sleds used by arctic explorers to pull their supplies across the tundra), but this year we felt she was ready to try under her own steam. The expedition started badly. Though bright, it was a cold day and occasional gusts of wind would whip ice crystals against our faces. The sensation was too much for Geekygirl, and she started to howl. This set her brother off, so I stood at the entrance to the trails holding two wailing children, my supply of tissues decimated after the first five minutes.
My holiday reading of "Raising Your Spirited Child" - a great book if you have such a creature in your life, reminded me that she likely was genuinely overwhelmed by the situation, so I kept my cool, empathized with her, and talked about the plans for the rest of the day while we waited for Geekydaddy to assemble the pulks. We bundled them in, still hysterical, watched by concerned fellow skiers, mainly young couples who were probably silently thinking "God, I'll never have kids". With a supply of blankets, tissues and stuffed animals cocooned into their pods, set off, hoping the motion and the scenery would soothe them (and us!).
It worked. I had forgotten how much I loved the sport, as I felt long unsused muscules stretch and strive, felt my lungs open deeply to capture oxygen in the refined mountain air. The snow was powdery and the pulks glided almost effortlessly, as we pulled our entranced passengers though the forest. They dozed, and we strode on. Before returning to the lodge to eat, we even got Geekygirl up on the little skis we had rented for her. Geekydaddy learned to ski at four, and from the day she was born he has looked forward to teaching his daughter. Things sometimes don't go well between Geekdaddy and his daughter. They frustrate each other, (they are too similar!), he finds her very hard to parent (which she can be), and I was crossing my fingers that this oh so important Father Daughter moment would go well. I left well alone and let him do it his way.
And she loved it. She let him support her, she listened to him, he was encouraging and patient and funny and she got the hang of it. Best of all, after lunch when we asked her if she wanted to ride or ski she said "I want to put my skis on again" and had another try. I noticed her lovely, inward smile of pride at her achievement. Then she was done, she discarded the skis, and hopped back in the pulk. We did another few laps of the trails, side by side, towing a child each. I looked down at my trusty skis, remembering that first season and casting my mind back over the intervening years. I spoke my thoughts out loud to Geekydaddy.
"Remember when I bought these skis, and you thought I might be making too much of a commitment to you?!"
The journey is the destination.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
And this year we are thankful for....propane.
I know, it isn't exactly politically correct to be thankful for fossil fuels, but I have good reason.
I'm also thankful for the regular things too, of course my family, our jobs, our good health, and our home. We're lucky, and I"m grateful for it. The kids even managed to sit at the Thanksgiving table for oh, at least 6 minutes, none of which I was actually sitting down, mind you, and they even tasted a few mouthfuls of the sweet potato casserole and the fennel and orange baked halibut (no turkey for us, I"m a pescatarian) in between blowing bubbles in their chocolate milk and complaining that they wanted their ice cream. They at least enjoyed the spiced apple cake that we miraculously manged to create despite a) the recipe, Gorden Ramsey's, being in metric weights and my only having American cups at hand, (thank you google converter), b) the kids adding the baking powder without my supervision c) not having the right shaped cake tin, and d) baking it at 7000ft.
That takes me back to the propane. We are celebrating our Thanksgiving at our cabin in Tahoe. Geekydaddy and I bought thismillstone vacation home the year we married, gazing starry eyed into a future of gamboling dogs and giggling children growing up together in this mountain hideaway. This was back when buying real estate in California seemed like a good idea. We love the house, we bought it to use, not as an investment, but lets just say it is a good job that we don't need to sell it any time soon! I"m thankful for that, too. And since I'm feeling sentimental, I'm also grateful for the vast beauty of the Sierra Nevada mountains. I was knocked down by the sheer scale of the scenery when I first moved to California, and never tire of the peaks, crags and views.
The house we bought was perfect for a couple and a dog. It had a small galley kitchen, a big living room for parties, and was heated by two wood burning stoves.
This meant that upon arrival, usually around midnight on Friday night the house was at the same temperature as the outside; usually below freezing. We would put on hats and double layers of clothing, light the two fires using cold logs hauled up from the basement, then knock back a couple of Scotches and retire to bed fully clothed under two down comforters. Usually the place would be warmish by morning, but on the coldest weekends the house would reach a habitable temperature by about Sunday, just in time for us to leave. This was no hardship for two hardy skiers. Central heat, who needs it, we crowed.
Once Geekygirl arrived I managed the frigid arrival routine by snuggling her with me in bed, but once her brother joined us it became impossible for me to keep them both warm while Geekydaddy struggled with the fires. On one impossible evening two winters ago I held two freezing howling children while Geekydaddy's frantic firemaking efforts caused the chimneys to billow black smoke back into the house, meaning we had to open all the windows to the blizzard outside, dissipating the meagre amount of heat we had generated. We decided that we had to get central heat put in.
Last year we remodelled the whole place, and spent our Holidays in South Africa instead. Yes, we took an almost three year old and an almost one year old half way around the world on 27 hours worth of flights. I am very thankful not to be doing that again this year!
It was completed (well almost, but that is another story!) this summer, but this is the first winter weekend we have spent here since the revamp. The seasons change fast up here in the mountains, we were last up in October when it was a balmy 65oF, but now there is a foot or so of snow crunching underfoot and a distinct chill in the air. We arrived late on Wednesday night, pulled into our new garage (instead of having to dig our way to the door), left the kids sleeping warm in their car seats while we flipped the heating switch and waited for the house (ambient temperature about 0oC) to get warm. I ran the kids duvets through the dryer to make their beds snug-buggly, and by the time they were ready the house had already reached 5oC. They hardly stirred on transfer. We unpacked the groceries, knocked back a welcome beer, then put ourselves to bed and hour or so later, the house already quite pleasantly warm.
Central heat is an amazing thing. Thanks, propane!
I'm also thankful for the regular things too, of course my family, our jobs, our good health, and our home. We're lucky, and I"m grateful for it. The kids even managed to sit at the Thanksgiving table for oh, at least 6 minutes, none of which I was actually sitting down, mind you, and they even tasted a few mouthfuls of the sweet potato casserole and the fennel and orange baked halibut (no turkey for us, I"m a pescatarian) in between blowing bubbles in their chocolate milk and complaining that they wanted their ice cream. They at least enjoyed the spiced apple cake that we miraculously manged to create despite a) the recipe, Gorden Ramsey's, being in metric weights and my only having American cups at hand, (thank you google converter), b) the kids adding the baking powder without my supervision c) not having the right shaped cake tin, and d) baking it at 7000ft.
That takes me back to the propane. We are celebrating our Thanksgiving at our cabin in Tahoe. Geekydaddy and I bought this
The house we bought was perfect for a couple and a dog. It had a small galley kitchen, a big living room for parties, and was heated by two wood burning stoves.
This meant that upon arrival, usually around midnight on Friday night the house was at the same temperature as the outside; usually below freezing. We would put on hats and double layers of clothing, light the two fires using cold logs hauled up from the basement, then knock back a couple of Scotches and retire to bed fully clothed under two down comforters. Usually the place would be warmish by morning, but on the coldest weekends the house would reach a habitable temperature by about Sunday, just in time for us to leave. This was no hardship for two hardy skiers. Central heat, who needs it, we crowed.
Once Geekygirl arrived I managed the frigid arrival routine by snuggling her with me in bed, but once her brother joined us it became impossible for me to keep them both warm while Geekydaddy struggled with the fires. On one impossible evening two winters ago I held two freezing howling children while Geekydaddy's frantic firemaking efforts caused the chimneys to billow black smoke back into the house, meaning we had to open all the windows to the blizzard outside, dissipating the meagre amount of heat we had generated. We decided that we had to get central heat put in.
Last year we remodelled the whole place, and spent our Holidays in South Africa instead. Yes, we took an almost three year old and an almost one year old half way around the world on 27 hours worth of flights. I am very thankful not to be doing that again this year!
It was completed (well almost, but that is another story!) this summer, but this is the first winter weekend we have spent here since the revamp. The seasons change fast up here in the mountains, we were last up in October when it was a balmy 65oF, but now there is a foot or so of snow crunching underfoot and a distinct chill in the air. We arrived late on Wednesday night, pulled into our new garage (instead of having to dig our way to the door), left the kids sleeping warm in their car seats while we flipped the heating switch and waited for the house (ambient temperature about 0oC) to get warm. I ran the kids duvets through the dryer to make their beds snug-buggly, and by the time they were ready the house had already reached 5oC. They hardly stirred on transfer. We unpacked the groceries, knocked back a welcome beer, then put ourselves to bed and hour or so later, the house already quite pleasantly warm.
Central heat is an amazing thing. Thanks, propane!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Peace and love to all mankind
When I was young, one of the first excitements of the Christmas season was selecting cards to give to my friends from the "Webb Ivory" catalogue. I often selected a "Children of all nations" card, adorned with cartoons of round faced kids representing different countries, usually waving flags, and with "peace" emblazoned across them.
We're fortunate to live in a place where our preschool classroom looks much like those cards, though perhaps with rather less peace than the teachers would like. It was therefore with great interest that I read the chapter of Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman's fascinating book, Nurture Shock about race, diversity and children, which is published here in Newsweek.
The prevailing dogma has been that children don't really notice differences in race, and that furthermore a good way to ensure a child grows up "color blind" is simply to have them in a diverse environment. That had been my belief. Not true, and not sufficient, the authors say.
Anyone who knows kids, especially if they have been in a communal changing room while a three year old points to a fellow customer and starts singing "I like big butts", knows that they are startlingly observant. They notice the differences and similarities in appearance between themselves, their peers and the characters in their story books from the earliest age, and what is more, babies prefer people who look more like them. This makes sense from an evolutionary perspective, those most likely to protect you are probably the ones whom you resemble.
No doubt since the very dawn of time humans have been dividing themselves into groups based upon arbitrary differences in appearance or belief (skin colour, eye shape, whether or not the communion wafer actually becomes 'the body of Christ' or merely represents it, whether they support Arsenal or Chelsea..... ) and fighting each other over them. We do seem to be hard wired to fall into an "us" vs "them" mentality, as experiments (described in the article) giving kids different colored T shirts and watching the results on social interaction have shown. So if kids intrinsically seek out similarities and differences and divide the world accordingly, short of waiting for an alien invasion which will finally force all humanity to embrace each other as "Us" vs. the extraterrestrial "Them", what are we to do as parents to bring up children who truly believe all people are equal?
Well a diverse environment is a good start, but apparently it takes more than that. It turns out that my kids preschool already had the right idea. I was at first rather disconcerted by the proactive nature of the diversity education at our preschool. For one activity, when geekygirl was about two and a half, The teachers had provided construction paper circles in skin tones from pale pink through dark brown, eyes ranging from azure. through gold and green to black, and wool for hair in all kinds of curliness and colours. The children were encouraged to examine and describe themselves and each other, then made a picture representing their own appearance and that of two of their friends. The teachers had written examples of their lesson, and the children's comments and observations on the wall.
Geekygirl showed me proudly and explained her work "I have pinkish skin and reddish curly hair and green eyes, and Olivia has brown skin and black curly hair and brown eyes and Maya has light brown skin and short black hair and brown eyes. People have brown skin and brown eyes because a long time ago they come from hot countries where there is more sun, and people have pinky white skin if they come from cold places...." At the time, I wondered whether is was appropriate to be so blatant about describing differences and similarities to such young children, but according to the article, recognizing and describing our differences is the best way to teach tolerance and equality.
The lessons seem to have taken root with Geekygirl. I am hoping that the teaching she gets at preschool will help her grow into a person who has no vestige of racial prejudice. The philosophy, combined with the fact that her classmates and teachers are just about the most diverse group of people you could find anywhere in the world; Chinese, Filipino, Black, South American, Mexican, Japanese, Korean, Indian, as well as White Caucasian (which we are) and many kids with parents from different races with no one group having a majority, should set her up well to be a true citizen of the world.
Last week, colouring a picture of herself she told me "I'm going to give myself brown skin like Jaelle" and selected a dark caramel colored crayon. I have also heard her observe "Mummy, only one of the princesses has brown skin, that's Princess Jasmine and her skin is light brown (Though Princess Tiana is finally adding some diversity to the Princess posse this December). I was struck by how multicultural her world view is, when on a whim I asked her what her constant companion, her imaginary friend Leah, actually looked like. "Leah has golden really curly hair, brown eyes and brown skin" I was informed.
Like many white British people from the home counties, I grew up in a fairly monocultural environment, one where being of Italian descent, as many kids at my Catholic secondary school were, was considered "ethnic". I have a strong desire, shared by many of the parents I know here to have my children in a socially, economically and ethnically diverse preschool and school environment. Our preschool achieves this effortlessly; it is relatively inexpensive, has hours that cater to two parent working families, and it is located in an ordinary, affordable (well as affordable as anywhere in the Bay Area is) neighbourhood, South San Francisco.
Some of the "snootier" private preschools and schools in San Francisco proper actively seek out ethnically and socially diverse families for their student body, making it harder for people who are in one of the majority ethnic groups of the upper middle class to get in to them. We joke that ii is a "fake diversity", the students might be of many different races and speak several languages, and their parents might be gay or lesbian, but the only real diversity amongst the parents is whether they got their MBA at Berkeley or Stanford.
We're hoping to get Geekygirl into a decent San Francisco public school (for UK readers that means a state school, and the baffling complexities of the SF school system will be the subject of a future post), but if we have to compete for slots at one of these fancy private ones at least we have a trump card; the kids might be plain old whiteys (though with immigrant, not American, parents), but at least our daughter has a mixed race imaginary friend!
How do you and your kids and others in your community identify ethnically? Do you worry about helping your kids grow up to be color blind, or whether they will be discriminated against?
We're fortunate to live in a place where our preschool classroom looks much like those cards, though perhaps with rather less peace than the teachers would like. It was therefore with great interest that I read the chapter of Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman's fascinating book, Nurture Shock about race, diversity and children, which is published here in Newsweek.
The prevailing dogma has been that children don't really notice differences in race, and that furthermore a good way to ensure a child grows up "color blind" is simply to have them in a diverse environment. That had been my belief. Not true, and not sufficient, the authors say.
Anyone who knows kids, especially if they have been in a communal changing room while a three year old points to a fellow customer and starts singing "I like big butts", knows that they are startlingly observant. They notice the differences and similarities in appearance between themselves, their peers and the characters in their story books from the earliest age, and what is more, babies prefer people who look more like them. This makes sense from an evolutionary perspective, those most likely to protect you are probably the ones whom you resemble.
No doubt since the very dawn of time humans have been dividing themselves into groups based upon arbitrary differences in appearance or belief (skin colour, eye shape, whether or not the communion wafer actually becomes 'the body of Christ' or merely represents it, whether they support Arsenal or Chelsea..... ) and fighting each other over them. We do seem to be hard wired to fall into an "us" vs "them" mentality, as experiments (described in the article) giving kids different colored T shirts and watching the results on social interaction have shown. So if kids intrinsically seek out similarities and differences and divide the world accordingly, short of waiting for an alien invasion which will finally force all humanity to embrace each other as "Us" vs. the extraterrestrial "Them", what are we to do as parents to bring up children who truly believe all people are equal?
Well a diverse environment is a good start, but apparently it takes more than that. It turns out that my kids preschool already had the right idea. I was at first rather disconcerted by the proactive nature of the diversity education at our preschool. For one activity, when geekygirl was about two and a half, The teachers had provided construction paper circles in skin tones from pale pink through dark brown, eyes ranging from azure. through gold and green to black, and wool for hair in all kinds of curliness and colours. The children were encouraged to examine and describe themselves and each other, then made a picture representing their own appearance and that of two of their friends. The teachers had written examples of their lesson, and the children's comments and observations on the wall.
Geekygirl showed me proudly and explained her work "I have pinkish skin and reddish curly hair and green eyes, and Olivia has brown skin and black curly hair and brown eyes and Maya has light brown skin and short black hair and brown eyes. People have brown skin and brown eyes because a long time ago they come from hot countries where there is more sun, and people have pinky white skin if they come from cold places...." At the time, I wondered whether is was appropriate to be so blatant about describing differences and similarities to such young children, but according to the article, recognizing and describing our differences is the best way to teach tolerance and equality.
The lessons seem to have taken root with Geekygirl. I am hoping that the teaching she gets at preschool will help her grow into a person who has no vestige of racial prejudice. The philosophy, combined with the fact that her classmates and teachers are just about the most diverse group of people you could find anywhere in the world; Chinese, Filipino, Black, South American, Mexican, Japanese, Korean, Indian, as well as White Caucasian (which we are) and many kids with parents from different races with no one group having a majority, should set her up well to be a true citizen of the world.
Last week, colouring a picture of herself she told me "I'm going to give myself brown skin like Jaelle" and selected a dark caramel colored crayon. I have also heard her observe "Mummy, only one of the princesses has brown skin, that's Princess Jasmine and her skin is light brown (Though Princess Tiana is finally adding some diversity to the Princess posse this December). I was struck by how multicultural her world view is, when on a whim I asked her what her constant companion, her imaginary friend Leah, actually looked like. "Leah has golden really curly hair, brown eyes and brown skin" I was informed.
Like many white British people from the home counties, I grew up in a fairly monocultural environment, one where being of Italian descent, as many kids at my Catholic secondary school were, was considered "ethnic". I have a strong desire, shared by many of the parents I know here to have my children in a socially, economically and ethnically diverse preschool and school environment. Our preschool achieves this effortlessly; it is relatively inexpensive, has hours that cater to two parent working families, and it is located in an ordinary, affordable (well as affordable as anywhere in the Bay Area is) neighbourhood, South San Francisco.
Some of the "snootier" private preschools and schools in San Francisco proper actively seek out ethnically and socially diverse families for their student body, making it harder for people who are in one of the majority ethnic groups of the upper middle class to get in to them. We joke that ii is a "fake diversity", the students might be of many different races and speak several languages, and their parents might be gay or lesbian, but the only real diversity amongst the parents is whether they got their MBA at Berkeley or Stanford.
We're hoping to get Geekygirl into a decent San Francisco public school (for UK readers that means a state school, and the baffling complexities of the SF school system will be the subject of a future post), but if we have to compete for slots at one of these fancy private ones at least we have a trump card; the kids might be plain old whiteys (though with immigrant, not American, parents), but at least our daughter has a mixed race imaginary friend!
How do you and your kids and others in your community identify ethnically? Do you worry about helping your kids grow up to be color blind, or whether they will be discriminated against?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
