Today was our very first Drayton Avenue field trip. We were quite excited to visit PuppetArt, the Detroit Puppet Theater. We'd never been there, but had heard great things. We were to see Kolobok, the Russian folk story similar to the Gingerbread Boy. Kolobok is a little butterball dumpling crafted by Grandmother and Grandfather who have a good life, but have no children. While he's cooling on the sill, he escapes into the woods to see the world. He encounters multiple animals who try to eat him but cunningly escapes them all. In the original story, he is eventually consumed by the crafty fox. In the Detroit version, he gets away and goes back home.
Lilah's friend Jack and his mother kindly let us ride along with them. Jack is a sweetheart and the two chattered happily in the back. We got there with 45 minutes to spare. By the time we found parking downtown, we had 30 minutes. By the time Jack and Lilah made it up 3 flights of stairs to Grand River Avenue, we had 15 minutes. We got into the theater and were engulfed in a sea of tiny people in winter gear. Lilah Rose had chosen a summer sun dress with pink flowers, pink knit tights, and a white turtle neck as her ensemble with brown suede boots. She had rushed through breakfast and smiled winningly at me while I dried my hair to entice me to do her bidding. "Mother, will you put my hair in a braid?"
"Braided pigtails? A pony tail?" I knew exactly what she was after. I'd been giving her the "Katniss Everdeen braid" for the past week and she'd gotten loads of attention for the fancy, intricate style.
"Nooo Mamaaaa. One braid!" I had done what she wanted and as usual the results were stunning. I had a very pretty little girl. I try to make sure to tell her how nice she looks, whether in pajamas or a party dress. I looked around the theater to see most of the children were very nicely dressed as well. I greeted the mother of one of the sets of twins and told the girls how nice they looked in their sparkly boots. Their mom smiled and said one of them had them on the wrong feet, but they were dressed and that's what counted. Lilah stood out in the crowd not only because of her braid, but also because she had insisted on bringing the muff Nicola made for her. It was all the rage. Some children stood quietly with parents. Others sneakily tried to touch the model puppets. One little girl had come with another family since her mother couldn't make it. She stood alone in the middle of the room with a quivering lip and her hands knotted uneasily. I crouched down to talk to her.
"Are you okay, honey?" She looked so miserable and scared it broke my heart. "You look so pretty in your skirt and sweater." She looked down and backed away. I motioned for Lilah to come over to me (she'd been stalking the little boy she plans to marry). I whispered to her, "Peanut, she had to come all alone with friends because her mama couldn't make it. She looks pretty lonely. Maybe try to be extra nice to her or talk to her a little?" Lilah looked back to the little boy with longing, then sighed and greeted the little girl by hopping over to her until they were half an inch apart. The girl backed away. Lilah hopped closer and stuck her head in and said hello, looking exactly like an inquisitive little bird. She cracked half a smile and ran away. Lilah chased her. I'm not sure if the little one felt any better but she'd hopefully been distracted.
When we went into the theater, Lilah had asked to be carried. She was pretty overwhelmed by all the bodies (the 2, 3, and 4 year classes were all present with parents) and had also just come to the realization that "theater" hadn't meant "movie and popcorn" and was noisily digesting this deception. Lilah and Jack asked to sit in the first row of child chairs with their respective mothers behind them in adult chairs. The kids around them rocked their chairs, stood up and sat down, and occasionally made some noise. Those two were angels. The commented and asked questions and shrieked with delight, but they were really good. It was funny to see the little ones compared to some in the older class. When the lights flickered and the sounds of birds and wind played from the speakers, Jack looked to the ceiling for the birds and Lilah was looking for squirrels in the (very obviously fabric) forest. The older kids shushed them. "It's a CD!"
During the bit of the performance where the Grandmother was kneading flour and butter to make Kolobok, Lilah gasped dramatically, stood, and exclaimed, "Mother! She's making bagels!" The entire theater chuckled. When they pulled the little Kolobok from the oven, he really did resemble a big bagel. Nothing could convince Lilah he wasn't one. Even though the kids grew restless after the first 25 minutes of the performance, it was engaging and animated enough to grab them again. I would definitely take her back there. We came home and had a nice lunch while she recounted her morning to her dad.
In the afternoon, I walked into pure insanity at work and 2 inches of paperwork on my desk and audibly groaned. For a moment, I wished I had just come to work in the morning. Then one of my coworkers came to my desk to ask how the field trip went. I gave her a quick synopsis and she was happy but looked momentarily pained. She told me that she told her son's school in the very beginning that she has a full-time job and was unable to attend functions and regrets it now. "Work doesn't matter. Go to everything you can. I was the asshole and I regret it. Don't be like me." I smiled to myself. Not only did work happily grant me the morning off, but they gave me paid time off to attend. I could bravely face however many inches of paperwork and whatever crises awaited. My little bird and I had a lovely time at Kolobok. We might just go back for Anansi.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
School Days
Today was the second time I volunteered in the classroom. I was a little apprehensive after the last time, but I was "snack parent" and I didn't have tremendous faith in Dano to get the execution and presentation down. Yes, I'm aware that they are a pack of 3 and 4 year olds, but they really are brilliant little people with excellent tastes and clever opinions all their own.
Lilah and I made stop-and-go fruit pops. On tongue depressors (popsicle sticks were wretchedly skinny and splintery) we placed a kiwi, pineapple, and strawberry to look like a stoplight. In a muffin tin, we arranged wonton wrappers sprayed lightly with cooking spray and sprinkled with cinnamon. For snack time, we filled the wontons with vanilla yogurt to dip the fruit pops in. Lilah must have eaten 4 of them while we were assembling the night before.
While the little ones played before class, I helped set up the classroom. During circle time, they picked one of Lilah's favorite friends to be the "magic apple" of the day. The water table was open for the first time in Lilah's school career and the magic apple gets to choose what color to dye the water. It was pink. I stationed myself near the water table, foreseeing the need for some adult presence at a table filled with pink water in a room with 12 preschoolers. I ended up as wet and pink as the table. The children had to roll sleeves and smock up to play there. Most of my time was spent assisting them in and out of smocks, negotiating small peace treaties ("When he's done with his turn with the shark, he'll be happy to give it to you. Here. Catch some frogs in this net in the meantime."), and repeatedly issuing the gentle reminder, "The water needs to stay inside the table."
I looked out over the classroom and saw a table filled with 6 little girls in princess gowns and pearls all making play-dough snowmen and unicorns. At another table, Mrs Fuller was playing matching games and puzzles with a few children. One or two played at the sand table. One little one was carefully and thoughtfully applying blue paint to her paper with slow, broad strokes. They were all such darlings and I was so happy they were Lilah's friends.
During story time, we set up snack. Several people remarked how amazing snack looked. It didn't feel amazing. I was proud of it being healthy and fun, but it was hardly amazing but I nodded and smiled my thanks anyway. Mrs Fuller asked who had brought snack after everyone was settled into their snack spots and had sung their snack song. No one saw Lilah discreetly point to me. I spoke up that it was Lilah Rose's snack day. She looked aghast. "No! My mother made these!" I assured everyone that she had helped assemble. Most people remarked that it looked time consuming. They don't know Lilah in the kitchen. She is my assistant in every way - gathering and putting away ingredients, taste-testing, mixing, beating, kneading, assembling, using the whisk or pastry brush as directed. Tonight after sampling the seared chicken, she proclaimed, "It's so tender, Mother! I really like it." She's developing quite the palate. Some of the children asked for seconds or thirds. One set of twins in particular were the last to leave the table and licked their fingers at the end. Another set of twins picked and poked and didn't act like they really liked it but never complained. The adults, Lilah, and I happily chomped on our wonton cups after they were empty. Some of the children where wide-eyed and shocked, like we were eating actual bowls. I laughed at the gasp of the girl next to me and poked her playfully.
"It tastes like a cracker or a cookie. Try it." She did, then turned to the child next to her.
"It's like a cracker or a cookie." And so on. Soon the entire table was munching on wonton cups. While the adults cleaned up, the teachers handed each child a stick with ribbons attached. They listened (of course) to the song Car Wash while forming two lines and twirling their ribbons while each child took turns going through the "car wash". All I heard were giggles and swishy ribbons.
Being cold out, the gross motor time took place in the "Big Room" with trikes, cozy coupes with gas stations, balls, and seesaws. One of Lilah's friends, a sweet, beautiful little boy who seems to like me as much as I like him (he's always tugging on my sleeve saying "Excuse me!" to get me to play with him) asked me to play hide-and-seek with him. We played a round and were joined one by one by a handful of other classmates. A few minutes later he and I were counting together as the entire class hid out of sight in fits of giggles. Mrs Fuller returned to the room after leaving for a moment and was greeted by dead-silence (save for the giggling) and not a child in sight. She looked around.
"It's so quiet!" Mrs Wilson, the assistant teacher nodded gravely and pointed to an upside-down laundry bin that was haltingly scooting of its own accord across the gym floor, and to a potted tree that was swaying gently despite the absolute lack of breeze in the room, then to us "counters". Mrs Fuller nodded knowingly.
Lilah was brilliantly good compared to the last time I was in class with her, and I did noticed the children of some of the other working parents struggle with having them there while still maintaining the class routine. Not that I want any child to struggle, but at least is shows Lilah isn't abnormal or behind. I have her at home saying things like, "Yes ma'am, I'll be with you in a moment," or "I'm not quite done yet but I'm nearly finished, Mother." She's been raised on the BBC and I can recall Dano snuggling 4 month old Lilah while reading Tolkien and L'Engle aloud to her. We've never pulled punches with grammar or more mature literatre and as a result she turns phrases better than some adults I know. She adjusts gracefully and usually flawlessly to any social situation, somehow innately knowing when to sit quietly, ankles crossed like a little Victorian lady and when to get up and play. I'm continually impressed with how observant she is. I do worry that because she can't recite the alphabet or count past 20 or recognize all her colors and letters and numbers from memory that she will be behind. They're so separate to her. She'll yawn and sigh through flashcards with us, but she'll pick up social intricacies with ease. This school subtly weaves learning with play and social interaction, so she has honestly picked up more since arriving at Drayton Avenue than through years of flashcards with us. I believe it's because seeing it in practice makes all the difference to her. I took years of all manner of math class and always despised it. But when I studied Drug Calculations in nursing school, math suddenly had real purpose. I still recall how to calculate tablespoons to teaspoons to milliliters to ounces in my head because it applied to cooking as well as medication administration. Lilah Rose seems to be made of the same stuff. Flashcards bore her and she does it to please us. The things she learns in class seem to have a purpose and a practical application to her life so she picks it up in an instant.
In a society that prides itself in Mandarin tutors for toddlers, there is such an emphasis on the academic from daycare to high school. The poor are associated with unintelligence, so if your child is well set-up educationally, it bespeaks of financial success and security. I have to catch myself holding my lovely little daughter up to that standard. It's unfair and a nasty set up for insecurity and perfectionism later on. I have to tell myself, sometimes daily or many times a day, that she is coming along brilliantly and it's much more important to have a child who will run to me when I come in the door at the end of the day and say, "Mummy! I missed you! How was your day?"
Lilah and I made stop-and-go fruit pops. On tongue depressors (popsicle sticks were wretchedly skinny and splintery) we placed a kiwi, pineapple, and strawberry to look like a stoplight. In a muffin tin, we arranged wonton wrappers sprayed lightly with cooking spray and sprinkled with cinnamon. For snack time, we filled the wontons with vanilla yogurt to dip the fruit pops in. Lilah must have eaten 4 of them while we were assembling the night before.
While the little ones played before class, I helped set up the classroom. During circle time, they picked one of Lilah's favorite friends to be the "magic apple" of the day. The water table was open for the first time in Lilah's school career and the magic apple gets to choose what color to dye the water. It was pink. I stationed myself near the water table, foreseeing the need for some adult presence at a table filled with pink water in a room with 12 preschoolers. I ended up as wet and pink as the table. The children had to roll sleeves and smock up to play there. Most of my time was spent assisting them in and out of smocks, negotiating small peace treaties ("When he's done with his turn with the shark, he'll be happy to give it to you. Here. Catch some frogs in this net in the meantime."), and repeatedly issuing the gentle reminder, "The water needs to stay inside the table."
I looked out over the classroom and saw a table filled with 6 little girls in princess gowns and pearls all making play-dough snowmen and unicorns. At another table, Mrs Fuller was playing matching games and puzzles with a few children. One or two played at the sand table. One little one was carefully and thoughtfully applying blue paint to her paper with slow, broad strokes. They were all such darlings and I was so happy they were Lilah's friends.
During story time, we set up snack. Several people remarked how amazing snack looked. It didn't feel amazing. I was proud of it being healthy and fun, but it was hardly amazing but I nodded and smiled my thanks anyway. Mrs Fuller asked who had brought snack after everyone was settled into their snack spots and had sung their snack song. No one saw Lilah discreetly point to me. I spoke up that it was Lilah Rose's snack day. She looked aghast. "No! My mother made these!" I assured everyone that she had helped assemble. Most people remarked that it looked time consuming. They don't know Lilah in the kitchen. She is my assistant in every way - gathering and putting away ingredients, taste-testing, mixing, beating, kneading, assembling, using the whisk or pastry brush as directed. Tonight after sampling the seared chicken, she proclaimed, "It's so tender, Mother! I really like it." She's developing quite the palate. Some of the children asked for seconds or thirds. One set of twins in particular were the last to leave the table and licked their fingers at the end. Another set of twins picked and poked and didn't act like they really liked it but never complained. The adults, Lilah, and I happily chomped on our wonton cups after they were empty. Some of the children where wide-eyed and shocked, like we were eating actual bowls. I laughed at the gasp of the girl next to me and poked her playfully.
"It tastes like a cracker or a cookie. Try it." She did, then turned to the child next to her.
"It's like a cracker or a cookie." And so on. Soon the entire table was munching on wonton cups. While the adults cleaned up, the teachers handed each child a stick with ribbons attached. They listened (of course) to the song Car Wash while forming two lines and twirling their ribbons while each child took turns going through the "car wash". All I heard were giggles and swishy ribbons.
Being cold out, the gross motor time took place in the "Big Room" with trikes, cozy coupes with gas stations, balls, and seesaws. One of Lilah's friends, a sweet, beautiful little boy who seems to like me as much as I like him (he's always tugging on my sleeve saying "Excuse me!" to get me to play with him) asked me to play hide-and-seek with him. We played a round and were joined one by one by a handful of other classmates. A few minutes later he and I were counting together as the entire class hid out of sight in fits of giggles. Mrs Fuller returned to the room after leaving for a moment and was greeted by dead-silence (save for the giggling) and not a child in sight. She looked around.
"It's so quiet!" Mrs Wilson, the assistant teacher nodded gravely and pointed to an upside-down laundry bin that was haltingly scooting of its own accord across the gym floor, and to a potted tree that was swaying gently despite the absolute lack of breeze in the room, then to us "counters". Mrs Fuller nodded knowingly.
Lilah was brilliantly good compared to the last time I was in class with her, and I did noticed the children of some of the other working parents struggle with having them there while still maintaining the class routine. Not that I want any child to struggle, but at least is shows Lilah isn't abnormal or behind. I have her at home saying things like, "Yes ma'am, I'll be with you in a moment," or "I'm not quite done yet but I'm nearly finished, Mother." She's been raised on the BBC and I can recall Dano snuggling 4 month old Lilah while reading Tolkien and L'Engle aloud to her. We've never pulled punches with grammar or more mature literatre and as a result she turns phrases better than some adults I know. She adjusts gracefully and usually flawlessly to any social situation, somehow innately knowing when to sit quietly, ankles crossed like a little Victorian lady and when to get up and play. I'm continually impressed with how observant she is. I do worry that because she can't recite the alphabet or count past 20 or recognize all her colors and letters and numbers from memory that she will be behind. They're so separate to her. She'll yawn and sigh through flashcards with us, but she'll pick up social intricacies with ease. This school subtly weaves learning with play and social interaction, so she has honestly picked up more since arriving at Drayton Avenue than through years of flashcards with us. I believe it's because seeing it in practice makes all the difference to her. I took years of all manner of math class and always despised it. But when I studied Drug Calculations in nursing school, math suddenly had real purpose. I still recall how to calculate tablespoons to teaspoons to milliliters to ounces in my head because it applied to cooking as well as medication administration. Lilah Rose seems to be made of the same stuff. Flashcards bore her and she does it to please us. The things she learns in class seem to have a purpose and a practical application to her life so she picks it up in an instant.
In a society that prides itself in Mandarin tutors for toddlers, there is such an emphasis on the academic from daycare to high school. The poor are associated with unintelligence, so if your child is well set-up educationally, it bespeaks of financial success and security. I have to catch myself holding my lovely little daughter up to that standard. It's unfair and a nasty set up for insecurity and perfectionism later on. I have to tell myself, sometimes daily or many times a day, that she is coming along brilliantly and it's much more important to have a child who will run to me when I come in the door at the end of the day and say, "Mummy! I missed you! How was your day?"
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Wintertime
I can't remember the last time I blogged. I have spent nearly all of my free time knitting Christmas presents for people until my fingers ached. I have thought at least 12 times this week, "I should post something."
I volunteered in Lilah's classroom for their Holiday Party. I was really looking forward to it (even more so because my mother decided to pull some holiday shenanigans and make my life difficult for a week or so). Lilah and I made snowman cake pops to share. I more or less did as I was told by the other parents. It was interesting to me how the parent volunteers weren't really involved in classroom time. They assisted in crafts and snacks, but their primary function was to help set up, tear down, clean up, wash little hands.
Lilah Rose was unexpectedly and uncharacteristically emotional. She wasn't jealous of my time. In fact, she carried on seemingly unaware I was there but for the occasional comment to her teacher, "That's my mother." However, during any minor upheaval ("It's not time to play drums right now," "Can you please hand that back to her?" "Okay, it's clean up time now.") she burst into hysterical tears. The first time, I saw her teacher raise an eyebrow in surprise. Lilah removed herself from the classroom to sit on a step and cool down every time. They were actual tears and she took longer than usual to calm herself. I would go out and check on her, but she just said, "Go back and play with my friends, Mama." I was confused, embarrassed, and felt like I had ruined school for her. She'd never acted like that before. I was painfully aware that she was the only kid who chose to lie down, rather than sit Indian-style (she can't) during circle time. In between meltdowns she was happy and made several crafts. The other children were sweethearts. All very smart and cute. I heard lots of interesting things.
"My daddy doesn't wash my hands. He only uses sanitizer and Mommy yells at him cuz it's not real soap."
"Jewish kids don't get stockings."
"I want a candy cane with only red on it."
"This gingerbread house needs more house." This one was my fault. The craft was making gingerbread houses out of graham crackers and frosting. I had a really hard time assembling these with the kids, so I sort of made gingerbread teepee/tent things. Much more sturdy. Also faster.
There was a birthday celebration and dinosaur cupcakes. At one point, the children had dance time and I saw the teacher get down to Lilah's level to talk to her. "I like how excited you are to hold his hand, but when he yells 'Ow ow ow!', that means you're holding too hard." Words to live by. I really took for granted a lot of the things she was learning there. Putting colored bears in a red-blue-red pattern is a math skill. Reading the daily message on the board from right to left is a literacy skill. Learning to respect the feelings and needs of your peers is a life skill. Dressing a bear for the weather today is a practical thinking skill. Someone at some point taught us to count in sequence and read from right to left. Lilah is even starting to point out when the stoplight turns green, or if we're turning right or left in the car. Brainless things we take for granted were the building blocks of our whole lives and some preschool teacher somewhere had to get it ingrained in our tiny brains. Mrs. Fuller made it a point several times to tell me that Lilah Rose never acts the way she had today and that it's really common when the moms get in the classroom. Dano pointed out later that school is Lilah's first territory and I was in it, not at work or home or the zoo - all shared spaces. It was hers and she didn't know how to react.
After the dancing, a little boy came over to me and asked for help washing his hands. While helping him get in between fingers, I noticed his palms were covered in small red spots. I cringed inwardly, knowing those telltale spots anywhere. Hand, foot, and mouth disease. I also noted that he had a clear runny nose (well, what kid in winter doesn't) and had JUST been holding hands with Lilah Rose. "Maybe he's over being contagious," said the nurse who knows better to herself. Either way, the damage had been done so I resolved not to tell his mother unless Lilah actually got sick. "Which she probably won't."
Christmas was lovely. My brother came from Tennessee and spent the week. My in-laws were here from Chicago. Lilah spent most of the time confined to the house with Hand, foot and mouth. At first she just complained throughout Friday, "Mother, there's a fever in my throat." Despite her throat being a tad pink, there were no other symptoms. On Saturday, I brought a strep test home from work since the doctor on call told me to text her if Lilah was positive so she could phone in antibiotics. I opted for swabbing her while she was asleep (#mistake). Her mouth was open a bit, so I swabbed her throat and tonsils. She sat straight up in bed, holding her mouth and screaming. I ran the test which was decidedly negative. During the screaming, her mouth was open very wide and I got a glimpse of all the mouth ulcers that come with that lovely virus. So she slept a lot and consumed nothing but yogurt and liquids for 3 days before she was feeling better.
On Christmas Eve, she and I watched Muppet Christmas Carol with Nick and snuggled. I finished our Advent story by Madeleine L'Engel and read her "Twas the Night Before Christmas" poem. She laughed through it, thinking it was about Uncle Nick, as it never refers to Santa Claus by any name other than Nicholas. I read her St Luke so she'd be well-rounded, and she tolerated it. She says that Santa Claus is a nice guy and fun to look at, but pretend. She says the story of the Christ Child is pretend because babies aren't born in barns, only hospitals. The weird part of raising your kid in world religions but not actually participating in any of them is that it throws a lot of preconceived notions to the wind. I used to assume that every little girl wanted to grow up to marry a prince, that all children believed in Santa and God from birth, and that they craved the mythos of religion for the comfort of something absolute. We celebrate and talk about all religious holidays around the world. Lilah is as at home in a church as she is watching the Japanese children in Miyazaki films pray to a roadside shrine for permission to take shelter there from a rain shower. She will happily chirp at you that marriage is when you get older and want to be with your best friend forever, and that when she gets older, she will marry a boyfriend or a girlfriend. The explanations of religious ritual we have given her make her visibly uneasy. Taken out of romantic context, a magically conceived baby that was put in the world by an all-powerful being for the sole purpose of being brutally murdered because we're inherently bad, well, it is unsettling. We don't use an Elf on a Shelf for the same reason we don't adhere to one particular religion. I want Lilah Rose to be good because it's expected of her, and because she is good. The French tell their children to be sage, not to be good. Be wise, be appropriate for the situation. Be smart about what you're doing. By telling our kids to be good, we're implying that it's their nature to be otherwise. I don't want her to be only good because there is someone watching, be it Elf or Almighty. I also want her to feel safe being not so good. I remember fearing demons and hell as a child. It did not do me any good. She steps out of the boundaries we've created for her knowing that our love doesn't change when she does. She also steps out fully aware of the consequences that wait for her. There's a security in that. Lilah Rose is the kid that demands to see the empty bag when you tell her the M&Ms are all gone. Religion might not work for her. If Jesus' own disciples who walked and lived with him demanded to see and touch him to believe he was really there, I think that same deity will cut us the same deal.
New Years was spent in Chicago. This is getting to be a tradition I really enjoy. It's so restful. Grannie Annie was in Connecticut this year, but Lilah got plenty of Grandpa time. Grandpa was also sick (Hand, foot, and mouth!) so he did not accompany us to the aquarium. I (foolishly) chose not to bring a coat, since we were getting dropped off at the door. The door proved to be locked unless you had a ticket in your hand already. I was directed to a 30 minute line on breezy, 15 degree Lake Michigan. By the time we actually got in, my lips were blue and I couldn't stop shaking. We took a breather so I could recover from hypothermia before sneaking off to see the baby beluga (you have to pay extra to see anything but crappy fish but no one actually checks wristbands so we just wander). She was 4 months old, chubby, clumsy and adorable. The adults did tricks, waved tails, shook flippers, and sang with their trainers. The baby just ambled along and ran into stuff. We also sneaked into the basement reef exhibit for fun with sharks and stingrays.
New Year's Eve, Lilah and I had lunch at the American Girl Place and did some shopping downtown. It's always so special to sit there dressed up having a fancy lunch with Lilah and her doll. We even got a table overlooking the city this time. There was a park with horse-drawn carriages below us and snow fell while we ate and sipped our pink lemonades. We got picked up and dove into the car before the taxis could honk at us to get a move on. It was the perfect combination of relaxing and busy.
Well I feel this is quite long enough. I'll try to update again before too long so next time it isn't so long. Hopefully everyone had amazing holidays.
I volunteered in Lilah's classroom for their Holiday Party. I was really looking forward to it (even more so because my mother decided to pull some holiday shenanigans and make my life difficult for a week or so). Lilah and I made snowman cake pops to share. I more or less did as I was told by the other parents. It was interesting to me how the parent volunteers weren't really involved in classroom time. They assisted in crafts and snacks, but their primary function was to help set up, tear down, clean up, wash little hands.
Lilah Rose was unexpectedly and uncharacteristically emotional. She wasn't jealous of my time. In fact, she carried on seemingly unaware I was there but for the occasional comment to her teacher, "That's my mother." However, during any minor upheaval ("It's not time to play drums right now," "Can you please hand that back to her?" "Okay, it's clean up time now.") she burst into hysterical tears. The first time, I saw her teacher raise an eyebrow in surprise. Lilah removed herself from the classroom to sit on a step and cool down every time. They were actual tears and she took longer than usual to calm herself. I would go out and check on her, but she just said, "Go back and play with my friends, Mama." I was confused, embarrassed, and felt like I had ruined school for her. She'd never acted like that before. I was painfully aware that she was the only kid who chose to lie down, rather than sit Indian-style (she can't) during circle time. In between meltdowns she was happy and made several crafts. The other children were sweethearts. All very smart and cute. I heard lots of interesting things.
"My daddy doesn't wash my hands. He only uses sanitizer and Mommy yells at him cuz it's not real soap."
"Jewish kids don't get stockings."
"I want a candy cane with only red on it."
"This gingerbread house needs more house." This one was my fault. The craft was making gingerbread houses out of graham crackers and frosting. I had a really hard time assembling these with the kids, so I sort of made gingerbread teepee/tent things. Much more sturdy. Also faster.
There was a birthday celebration and dinosaur cupcakes. At one point, the children had dance time and I saw the teacher get down to Lilah's level to talk to her. "I like how excited you are to hold his hand, but when he yells 'Ow ow ow!', that means you're holding too hard." Words to live by. I really took for granted a lot of the things she was learning there. Putting colored bears in a red-blue-red pattern is a math skill. Reading the daily message on the board from right to left is a literacy skill. Learning to respect the feelings and needs of your peers is a life skill. Dressing a bear for the weather today is a practical thinking skill. Someone at some point taught us to count in sequence and read from right to left. Lilah is even starting to point out when the stoplight turns green, or if we're turning right or left in the car. Brainless things we take for granted were the building blocks of our whole lives and some preschool teacher somewhere had to get it ingrained in our tiny brains. Mrs. Fuller made it a point several times to tell me that Lilah Rose never acts the way she had today and that it's really common when the moms get in the classroom. Dano pointed out later that school is Lilah's first territory and I was in it, not at work or home or the zoo - all shared spaces. It was hers and she didn't know how to react.
After the dancing, a little boy came over to me and asked for help washing his hands. While helping him get in between fingers, I noticed his palms were covered in small red spots. I cringed inwardly, knowing those telltale spots anywhere. Hand, foot, and mouth disease. I also noted that he had a clear runny nose (well, what kid in winter doesn't) and had JUST been holding hands with Lilah Rose. "Maybe he's over being contagious," said the nurse who knows better to herself. Either way, the damage had been done so I resolved not to tell his mother unless Lilah actually got sick. "Which she probably won't."
Christmas was lovely. My brother came from Tennessee and spent the week. My in-laws were here from Chicago. Lilah spent most of the time confined to the house with Hand, foot and mouth. At first she just complained throughout Friday, "Mother, there's a fever in my throat." Despite her throat being a tad pink, there were no other symptoms. On Saturday, I brought a strep test home from work since the doctor on call told me to text her if Lilah was positive so she could phone in antibiotics. I opted for swabbing her while she was asleep (#mistake). Her mouth was open a bit, so I swabbed her throat and tonsils. She sat straight up in bed, holding her mouth and screaming. I ran the test which was decidedly negative. During the screaming, her mouth was open very wide and I got a glimpse of all the mouth ulcers that come with that lovely virus. So she slept a lot and consumed nothing but yogurt and liquids for 3 days before she was feeling better.
On Christmas Eve, she and I watched Muppet Christmas Carol with Nick and snuggled. I finished our Advent story by Madeleine L'Engel and read her "Twas the Night Before Christmas" poem. She laughed through it, thinking it was about Uncle Nick, as it never refers to Santa Claus by any name other than Nicholas. I read her St Luke so she'd be well-rounded, and she tolerated it. She says that Santa Claus is a nice guy and fun to look at, but pretend. She says the story of the Christ Child is pretend because babies aren't born in barns, only hospitals. The weird part of raising your kid in world religions but not actually participating in any of them is that it throws a lot of preconceived notions to the wind. I used to assume that every little girl wanted to grow up to marry a prince, that all children believed in Santa and God from birth, and that they craved the mythos of religion for the comfort of something absolute. We celebrate and talk about all religious holidays around the world. Lilah is as at home in a church as she is watching the Japanese children in Miyazaki films pray to a roadside shrine for permission to take shelter there from a rain shower. She will happily chirp at you that marriage is when you get older and want to be with your best friend forever, and that when she gets older, she will marry a boyfriend or a girlfriend. The explanations of religious ritual we have given her make her visibly uneasy. Taken out of romantic context, a magically conceived baby that was put in the world by an all-powerful being for the sole purpose of being brutally murdered because we're inherently bad, well, it is unsettling. We don't use an Elf on a Shelf for the same reason we don't adhere to one particular religion. I want Lilah Rose to be good because it's expected of her, and because she is good. The French tell their children to be sage, not to be good. Be wise, be appropriate for the situation. Be smart about what you're doing. By telling our kids to be good, we're implying that it's their nature to be otherwise. I don't want her to be only good because there is someone watching, be it Elf or Almighty. I also want her to feel safe being not so good. I remember fearing demons and hell as a child. It did not do me any good. She steps out of the boundaries we've created for her knowing that our love doesn't change when she does. She also steps out fully aware of the consequences that wait for her. There's a security in that. Lilah Rose is the kid that demands to see the empty bag when you tell her the M&Ms are all gone. Religion might not work for her. If Jesus' own disciples who walked and lived with him demanded to see and touch him to believe he was really there, I think that same deity will cut us the same deal.
New Years was spent in Chicago. This is getting to be a tradition I really enjoy. It's so restful. Grannie Annie was in Connecticut this year, but Lilah got plenty of Grandpa time. Grandpa was also sick (Hand, foot, and mouth!) so he did not accompany us to the aquarium. I (foolishly) chose not to bring a coat, since we were getting dropped off at the door. The door proved to be locked unless you had a ticket in your hand already. I was directed to a 30 minute line on breezy, 15 degree Lake Michigan. By the time we actually got in, my lips were blue and I couldn't stop shaking. We took a breather so I could recover from hypothermia before sneaking off to see the baby beluga (you have to pay extra to see anything but crappy fish but no one actually checks wristbands so we just wander). She was 4 months old, chubby, clumsy and adorable. The adults did tricks, waved tails, shook flippers, and sang with their trainers. The baby just ambled along and ran into stuff. We also sneaked into the basement reef exhibit for fun with sharks and stingrays.
New Year's Eve, Lilah and I had lunch at the American Girl Place and did some shopping downtown. It's always so special to sit there dressed up having a fancy lunch with Lilah and her doll. We even got a table overlooking the city this time. There was a park with horse-drawn carriages below us and snow fell while we ate and sipped our pink lemonades. We got picked up and dove into the car before the taxis could honk at us to get a move on. It was the perfect combination of relaxing and busy.
Well I feel this is quite long enough. I'll try to update again before too long so next time it isn't so long. Hopefully everyone had amazing holidays.
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