Constitution Week

It's Constitution Week.  It's one of those observances that is made for nerdy history teachers such as myself.  When I was teaching full time, state mandated testing schedules and other practicalities of public education prevented me from spending the entire week on the constitution,* but I always tried to do something apropos.  I could usually find a few minutes at the end of class to give some bonus points to students for being able to list the three founding documents of the US (hint: The Pledge of Allegiance is not one of them) or have a contest to see who could name the most people present at the constitutional convention. (hint: Sam Houston wasn't there)

Usually Constitution Week passes mostly unnoticed.  This year it seems that many more people are observing it.  This makes my little nerdy heart happy.  However, I find that, in observing constitution week, many are not celebrating the constitution.  I see post after post using Constitution Week to celebrate a specific political party.  (hint:political parties are not in the constitution)  I assume that most people who affiliate with a specific party do so because they agree with a majority of that party's tenants, or at the very least, find their party of choice to align more closely with their priorities than the opposing party.  I would expect someone who belongs to a party to passionately defend the ideas put forth by said party.  I don't find anything problematic about that dynamic.  I find the idea that one political party is the sole defender of the constitution while the opposing party is the Enemy of America to be shallow, intellectually dishonest, and in direct conflict with the ideas upon which this country was founded.  I do not find promoting a single party as the sole owner of patriotism an appropriate way to observe Constitution Week.

In many a political discussion, the intentions of the founding fathers are invoked.  Certainly discussing the men who created the country makes sense.  What does not make sense is talking about "the founding fathers" as a monlith.  The reason one political party cannot claim to be the sole defenders of the constitution is because the constitution was not created by a single political ideology.
The collective memory of the founding of America often looks like this:


Sometimes it's nice to imagine that the delegates arrived in Philadelphia and almost instantly began politely dictating the constitution.  Someone said, "I think we ought to have three coequal branches of government." To which someone else said, "A fine idea, good sir.  I'd like to also divide the legislative branch into two chambers." Whereupon founding father the third chimed in, "Quite so, my good man.  In addition, let us add a provision that all tax legislation must originate in the lower chamber." All the while, Jacob Shallus sat quietly in the corner carefully transcribing the conversation in calligraphy.  The balance of the summer was then spent proofreading the first draft.  While that would be a lovely story, that's not how it happened.  The founding fathers certainly approached the task with admiration and respect for the strengths of their colleagues, but they did not all agree on what America should be.

It is instructive to remember that the early days of the republic also looked like this:



The constitutional convention included heated disagreements, juvenile insults, intense divisions, and near failure.  The founders were all talented and well studied. They were each patriotic and wanted to see the new country succeed.  They were passionate about their goals.  And they did not agree on the best course of action.  They were willing to include things they disagreed with while also ardently insisting on the things that were most important to them. The result of their actions was not the canonization of The One True America.  Rather it is a wonderfully resilient collection of ideological inconsistencies and contradictions that could evolve to become one of the most powerful nations on earth.

At the end of the convention, the constitution included something for everyone to be upset about.  But they also seemed to be incredibly proud and protective of their accomplishment.  The founding of the United States was not just an experiment in representative government, but also an exercise in pluralism.

*please don't leave comments about how this is an example of a failed public education system.  Students receive adequate education in all levels of government from municipal to national.  The instructional calendar just doesn't allow for the allotted time on the constitution to coincide with the anniversary of its creation.

Three

I have a three year old. He's pretty cute. He doesn't pronounce things very well, but he consistently speaks in complete sentences. He likes to sort things into piles. He loves trains and Lightning McQueen. He is full of energy and runs almost everywhere he goes. He rarely takes naps. He's a very cheerful kid. Recently I introduced him to Road Runner and Wile E Coyote cartoons. He calls them "beep beep movies." In the mornings, when the older kids are packing their lunches and backpacks, he gets his backpack and puts a snack in it. Then he sits by the front door and says he's ready to go to school.

Today I found him sitting on my bathroom counter. He had plugged the sink with a roll of toilet paper, filed it to the top, and left the tap running so that water was flowing onto the floor. He had all the drawers open and was tossing anything he could reach into the sink with one hand while brandishing Dave's razor in the other.

Me: Do these things belong to you?

3yo: Nope. They don't.

Me: Should you be touching them?

3yo: Nope

Me: Where are your toys?

3yo: My toys are in the playroom.

Me: Where is the playroom?

3yo: The playroom is upstairs.

Me: Where do you think I'd like you to play right now?

3yo: Right here.

I am not impressed with his deductive reasoning skills.

From the (Previously Unpublished) Archives

My brother once told me that he believes it is impossible for parents to win a battle of wits with their children. His reasoning: adults have a myriad of responsibilities competing for time and attention.  Meanwhile kids have nothing to do all day but sit and figure out how to game the system.  Since he currently has no children of his own, I'm not sure how he happened upon this pearl of wisdom, but I do think he's onto something.  The children in the redhead household have an amazing ability to do precisely what I have asked and yet somehow exactly what I do not want.  My mother is chuckling right now.  She is thinking that this quality is genetic, and I am currently getting what I deserve.  To which I reply that if it's genetic, it didn't start with me.

I thought that my years of teaching inner city high school kids had honed my abilities to give  directions that left very little room for interpretation.  But high school students are not nearly as creative as toddlers.  I guess the responsibilities that come with negotiating drug deals in the bathrooms don't leave as much time for system gaming as I had originally thought.  To a three year old, "Go wash your hands and face" sounds like "Please climb into the washing machine and try to turn it on. It would be extra helpful if you could take your little sister with you."  I have learned that the proper way to give that instruction is "Go into the bathroom. Stand on the stool and use soap to wash your hands in the sink." I don't usually have to specify when to turn the water on and off.  I've also learned that when I ask the kids to keep the sand inside the sandbox it's important to specify that I mean the sandbox in our backyard.  The instructions to get ready for bed include close to a dozen steps.

It makes me giggle a little bit when my kids talk to me the same way I talk to them.  On our most recent trip to the grocery store my little girl told me, "Mama, first you have to find my brother's shoes.  Then you pick him up.  Then you put socks on him.  Then you put his shoes on.  Then you take him outside and open the van door.  Then you put him in his seat.  Then you buckle his top buckles.  Then his bottom buckles.  Then you do your buckles. Then we can go shopping."

I'm still pretty new to the parenting game.  So while I do find the antics somewhat aggravating, there is still a part of me that  is curious to see what they will come up with next.  A few days ago while I was washing my hands in the sink with soap (but not standing on the stool), I heard the unmistakable clatter of something large falling down the stairs. My initial panic that the day might include a trip to the emergency room subsided when the noise was followed by hysterical laughter.  The kids came running in to tell me that the diaper boxes were sleds and the stairs were snow.  I thought this sounded awesome, and my heart broke a little bit when I had to tell them to stop.  Especially since we live in Texas and that's as close to sledding as it gets around here. But my desire to avoid a medical emergency won the day, and we put the boxes away. 

Sometimes I give intentionally vague instructions to see what happens.  When it's time to read stories I tell them, "In two minutes I'm going to come upstairs and read the stories that are on the rocking chair, so if you want stories go pick them now."  So far they have not yet figured out that I have not limited them to one story each.  I'm waiting for the day when they decide to unload their entire bookshelf onto the rocking chair.  And if they ever do, I will sit there for as long as it takes and read every story.

Super Tuesday

I believe that all politicians are dishonest and unethical.  I think that local elections are far more relevant to me than presidential campaigns.  Despite these beliefs, the presidential primary season is a train wreck that I just can't look away from.  It's my guilty pleasure.  Some people watch daytime talk shows, some people watch soap operas, I will be up Tuesday night with my cheesecake watching election returns.

In some ways, the election season kind of makes me embarrassed to be American.  Are these really the people we are choosing to lead our nation?  We really can't do better than this?  Has the campaign strategy really devolved to the point that there is more juvenile name calling than actually policy debate?  The world is watching us choose our leader in a contest that amounts to little more than a verbal food fight.  Then I watch the news coverage of "elections" in other nations (recently Iran) and I realize that, for all its flaws, our election process really is remarkable in the world.  Whoever wins, and I'm not really impressed with any of the options, election day will be nonviolent.  And the President Elect will take office on inauguration day in a peaceful ceremony.  At least half of the country will be disappointed or angry, but no one will die over it.

The presidential primary process is interesting to me.  I follow it more closely than is probably considered healthy.  Each party in each state has its own rules, and the game is complex.  I am registered in neither party.  I have voted for candidates in both parties.  But since I am a Mormon currently residing in the state of Texas, most of my friends are republicans, and I'm curious about your voting strategies.  Texas (and most of the other states holding primaries on Super Tuesday) allocates delegates to the national convention on a proportional basis.  Sort of.  Some of the delegates are at large delegates awarded based on state wide totals, and some delegates are awarded according to congressional district.  If a candidate gets more than 50% of the vote, they get all the delegates.  If not, then all candidates receiving at least 20% of the vote are awarded delegates proportionally.  Unless only one candidate gets at least 20% of the vote.  In that case, the top two candidates are awarded delegates proportionally.  And there are more details.  The official rules are two pages long.  I find it interesting.  I know normal people don't.  I'm comfortable with my weirdness.

I've come up with some strategies that I think people use to decide who to vote for.  Which one best describes your thought process on election day?

1.  I vote for the party front runner.  The longer this shenanigan goes on the worse it is for my party.  I'd like to get this primary hoopla over as soon as possible and start focusing on the general election.

2. Delegates? Conventions? I don't have a clue what you are talking about and I don't care that much.  I show up.  I vote for who I like.  I get my sticker.  I go home.

3.  I thoughtfully pick the candidate I like the best (or dislike the least) and I vote for them even if I know they are unlikely to win any delegates.  I vote my conscience and I want my vote to represent how I actually feel.

4.  I choose from among the candidates who are most likely to reach the 20% threshold, even if I prefer a different candidate.  I feel like my vote has more impact if it translates into delegates.

5.  I don't like the candidates in either party.  I feel like a third party candidate has a decent shot this year.  I will intentionally abstain from voting in the primary of either party so that I can be eligible to sign a petition supporting a third party candidate hoping to be on the ballot for the general election in November.

6.  I'm disillusioned by the whole thing and will stay home on election day.

7.  I live in the state of Colorado where we vote for delegates who will attend a state convention that will convene to select delegates to go to the national convention.  None of the above apply to that process.

Or maybe you have an entirely different strategy.  Let me know how you decided who to vote for.

Facebook Frustrates Me

As I was mindlessly scrolling through Facebook this morning, I saw this post.  It came from a friend of a friend of a friend.  I'm pretty sure I have no connection to the person who originally posted it, and I don't think we will ever meet.  Yet there it was in my newsfeed.

"Please share My niece came to me crying saying she was getting bullied at school kids are telling her she is ugly and fat can you please share and like this pic of her or even comment to show her she is  beautiful lets see how many people think she is pretty lets make this go viral. STOP THE BULLYING✋✋✋✋✋✋"
It included a picture of an elementary aged girl and had hundreds of commenters assessing her appearance. I didn't read the comments.  I assume that most of them were favorable.

And, despite the fact that I take almost nothing I ever see on social media seriously, this post bothered me.  The teacher in me wanted to proofread and edit it a bit.  More importantly, the mother in me wanted to challenge the underlying messages.  If I were acquainted with the original poster, this would have been my comment to her:

It is a shame that your niece is being bullied.  I wish with all my heart that people would be kind to each other.  What a wonderful aunt you are to offer support in this difficult time.  This little girl is beautiful, but I wonder how helpful this kind of approach is.  If her self esteem is based on a tally of how other people feel about her appearance, it will always be fragile.  Hopefully she will be able to find more people who think she is beautiful than who will tell her she is ugly.  But what if the day comes that she can't?  And what happens if she looks in the mirror and just doesn't feel like she looks beautiful?  In that case, it won't matter how many internet strangers will compliment her appearance.  She will still feel badly about herself and believe that people are only lying to her.

Far more important than convincing this girl that a lot of people think she is beautiful, is teaching her that her value has nothing to do with her appearance.  She is not an object that exists simply to decorate the world.  Rather, she is a human being deserving of dignity and capable of accomplishing great to things no matter how she looks.

On the Road

We spent basically the entire month of April in the doctors' office.  We started with routine annual well checks.  Then each of the red heads took a turn with the never ending ear infection.  I don't think ear infections are especially contagious, but my kids are a pretty tight knit crew, so maybe sympathy sickness is a thing.  There was also a drug reaction and an unfortunate incident wherein an infant sought to ingest a fire ant pile.

On one of our drives to the doctor, my little girl was adamant that it was not her turn to get a shot.  I assured her that she wasn't getting a shot, and the doctor only wanted to look in her ear to see why it was still hurting.  She got excited and said, "And then I will show her my hurting toes."  In the same tone of voice you would expect if she were saying, "Tomorrow's my birthday and I want chocolate cake."  I laughed and told her that the doctor would probably remind her to wear shoes when she rides her bike.

The four year old joined the conversation at this point: "Mommy, doctors don't give directions because they are not Mom and Dad."  Sometimes it's nice to know that he does hear what I tell him, even if he doesn't quite get it.  I told him that doctors give us directions about how to keep our bodies healthy.  He asked why.  I told him that doctors spend a long time in college to learn about how bodies work.  He asked why.  I told him that when you go to college you get to choose what you want to learn about.  I gave some more examples  "Daddy learned about money in college.  Mommy learned about history.  Aunt Heather learned about food that is good for you. Grandpa Justin learned about making cool movies on the computer (sorry Justin.  I don't actually know what your degree is in.) Aunt Megan is learning about...[pause while I try to think of a preschool description of chemical engineering...I've got nothing] chemistry."

Somewhere in the middle of this list I realized how silly it was to be talking to 3 children who are not yet school age about college degrees.  So I decided I might as well go completely crazy and start laying on the pressure for academic achievement.  "Ashley, what do you want to learn about when you go to college?"  She thought about it briefly and then said, "I want to learn about going somewhere."

Well played little one.  Well played.

Band-aids

A very long time ago (I realize I'm not really old enough to say that. But it was many major life transitions ago, so the phrase feels appropriate.) I had a campus security job.  I worked on a campus where students were accustomed to compliance, and my assignment was in the library.  One of the reasons I enjoyed the job was because it was significantly less stressful than my previous employment.  Our biggest emergencies usually happened during finals week.  They would usually involve students who would spend all day in the library studying, forget to eat, and then pass out when they stood up to use the bathroom.  The crisis could generally be resolved with some apple juice and a graham cracker.  Now that I think about it, many a crisis in raising three young children is averted in exactly the same manner.

Occasionally a backpack or wallet would be stolen from a computer lab.  Other than that, the job was extremely low key.  The University did have extensive and expensive special collections which is why library security was even a job.  And it was a very fun very relaxed job.  The most intense regular assignment was walking through the library at closing time to wake the sleeping studiers and tell them it was time to leave.  My secret fear was always that I would find a dead person tucked away in a study carol somewhere.  People would fall asleep in the library all the time.  It didn't seem all that far-fetched that someone might have a heart attack and die.  Everyone who walked by all day would just assume the person was napping and leave them alone.  Then I would be left to wake them up only to discover they were dead.  In my mind this always happened in the farthest corner of the lowest basement and always after the main lights had been turned off.  

When I wasn't working the closing shift, my job was basically care free.  However, I did have a coworker who seemed to have a difficult time differentiating between library security and the Secret Service.  To him everything was ultra high intensity.  Someone forgot to stop by circulation and check out their books on the way out?  He would chase them down, and interrogate them like it was part of some deep assassination plot.  Someone tried to bring Jamba Juice into the library?  He would be sure to use his whistle, authoritatively declare the library's no food policy, and issue a written reprimand.  Sometimes I secretly wished he would encounter a dead person during the closing sweep.  It might be entertaining to see how he would handle it.  

One day I was working in the control room (our fancy, self important name for the place where we would eat our lunches and watch security cameras to monitor the elderly librarians in the special collections vaults.  And occasionally reset the fire alarms.)  Mr. Secret Service was just outside the door at the front desk actively scouring the crowd of harried students searching for potential threats.  In the periphery of my awareness I heard someone come up to the desk and talk to him.  He turned around and ran the three steps into the control room and breathlessly declared, "We have an emergency!"  I briefly considered the possibility that my shift that day might be eventful.  The he shouted, "Get me a Band-aid. STAT!"  I burst out laughing.  He looked confused and slightly irritated.  He didn't agree with my assessment when I told him, as I handed him our first aid kit, "any problem a Band-aid can solve is not an emergency."

When it comes to Band-aids I am still pretty cold and heartless.  And super cheap.  Normally I totally embrace the placebo effect in parenting and harness it to my benefit.  But I simply refuse to give my kids unessesary bandages.  They ask frequently, and I always say no.  I've explained repeatedly that Band-aids are only useful when blood is involved. If they want a Band-aid, I have to see blood.  They are starting to get it.  Now requests for Band-aids are quickly followed by, "Look.  I have blood."

A few days ago my oldest little redhead had a bloody nose.  It wasn't a big deal, and we got it stopped fairly quickly.  He had friends over, so he wanted to go back to playing immediately.  I didn't notice that he had gotten some blood on the back of his hands.  About an hour later he came to me.  "Mama, I just need a Band-aid for my hand.  Look there is blood."  

Kindness: Part 6 - In Which My Groceries are Once Again Saved by Someone Else

I think it is likely that my little girl will grow up to be a world traveler.  Or at least want to go to college out of state.  Every morning she wakes up (often before the sun), finds her way into my bed, pries my eyelids open, and says, "Mama, I want to go somewhere."  Every time she hears a door open she drops what she is doing, comes running, and says, "I want to go with you."  Even if I'm just going outside to throw away a smelly diaper.  

Sometimes, when she wakes me up, I want to tell her that recent science indicates that the biggest threat to her safety and well being is the driving of her sleep deprived mother.  But, since she is only two, I figure she doesn't care much about the similarities between fatigued and intoxicated driving.  Instead I get up, nurse the baby, find some breakfast for the older kids, get clothes and shoes on everyone, and a few short hours later we are ready to go somewhere.

She used to ask to go to the museum.  That made my little nerdy heart swell with pride.  We went through a phase shortly after her surgery and our new baby when she would ask to go to the hospital.  That would make me a little bit sad for her.  Now she usually asks to go to Costco.  I am apathetic about this request.  It usually seems reasonable and practical, so often I agree.  I like shopping with my kids at Costco.  The carts have two seats, so, with my youngest in a baby carrier, everyone has a place.  And there are samples on every isle, so I don't even have to bring my own fruit snacks to keep everyone happy.  

Last time we went to Costco it was a chilly day.  After we finished our trip through the maze of industrial sized laundry detergent I bundled everyone up and we headed outside.  About halfway between the door and my car I commented about how the weather had warmed up considerably since we had first arrived at the store.  Just as I was removing the hat from my overheating infant, the rain started.  And it didn't start gradually.  We were all soaked completely through before I could finish saying "darn."  Since I was already in the middle of the parking lot, I decided there was nothing to do but keep going.  I piled my kids in the car and loaded the groceries as quickly as I could.  

When we got home it was still pouring.  Everyone was already wet, so I tried to hurry them inside and started bringing our soggy boxes of goldfish inside.  My baby was no longer too warm and was starting to fuss.  As my three year old ran inside he slipped on the wet tile and hit his head on the corner of the bottom stair.  And my little girl stood inside the door insisting that she wanted to go somewhere again.  With three upset children and a 10 pound bag of chicken nuggets that needed to go in the freezer I stared at the pouring rain and decided that my 3 gallons of milk would just have to wait.  

And then my neighbor drove by.  She and two of her boys rushed over and started unloading my car for me.  They brought in everything.  And the checker at Costco did not give me a box, so every single unreasonably large item had to be carried individually.  They made at least a dozen trips, and the boys even politely wiped the water off their feet every time they came into my house.  (Their mom did too, but I felt like such thoughtful behavior from children was especially noteworthy.)

With the groceries taken care of I was left to attend to my cranky kids.  Within a few minutes everyone was dry and cheerful (and ready to go somewhere else.)

Kindness: Parts Previous

Merry Christmas

It's December.  Christmas Eve is a week away, and I feel like I should write something eloquent about The True Meaning of Christmas.  I've got nothing.  I believe that, through the miracle in Gethsemane, a tiny baby in Bethlehem changed the world.  Other than that, I've no poignant or memorable comments to make.  Being the long winded redhead that I am, I won't let that stop me from writing a Christmas post.

We are doing our best to have a Christ centered Christmas around here.  We've got the nativities up (my kids call them activities).  I'm even doing a halfway decent job of not getting upset when the kids decide the breakable ones ought to be relocated.  

Although I enjoy writing, I feel like I find Christ in Christmas best through music.  We've had a lot of that around here.  We've even added an instrument.  

We took our kids to see A Christmas Carol, because what preschooler doesn't love a good stage adaptation of a Charles Dickens classic?  I know it doesn't mention Christ, but I think it fits with the True Meaning of Christmas.  The Texan tried to explain it to them first.  We thought that would help them enjoy it a little bit more.  As we were taking our seats my oldest little redhead told me we would see three ghosts.  "The ghost of Christmas Yesterday, Christmas Today, and Christmas Tomorrow."  We forgot to tell them about Jacob Marley.  And they can count.  Well, the baby can't count yet, but the other two can.  They were ready to leave after the ghost of Christmas Present because that was three ghosts.  I'm glad they are smart.  I'm glad they were paying attention.  I'm kind of tired of being corrected by a three year old.  In a few short months I'll have the pleasure of being corrected by a four year old.  

I don't feel like Christmas is a dichotomy of either Christian or heathen, so we are also having a great time with secular Christmas.  We decorated the tree, hung stockings, made Christmas cookies, and are reading lots of books about Santa. 

On an unrelated note, everyone around here seems to love a good parenting gone awry story.  Today I was in the mood for a new facebook status, and I was starting to smell like spit-up.  I decided to take a shower even though the kids were awake and see what kind of entertaining havoc they could wreak in a few minutes of unsupervised time.

The little rascals didn't do ANYTHING.  No climbing to reach forbidden objects, no adventures in the pantry, no trying to put lotion on the baby.  As far as I can tell, they quietly behaved themselves the entire time.  The baby even fell asleep.

And once again I have been bested by a toddler and a preschooler.

Foiled Again

I tend to overthink parenting.  I don't really impose excessive mom guilt or stress on myself, but I do often make thoroughly thoughtful decisions about decidedly trivial things.  For example: I never sing the end of Five Little Ducks with my kids because I don't want to send the message that it is completely acceptable or expected that they ignore me but obey their dad.  Deep down I know this is ludicrous.  I grew up singing the song in its entirety, and it had absolutely no impact on me.  I was equally defiant and disobedient to both of my parents.  Nevertheless, on the rare occasion that I take a shower without a child banging on the door, I use the quiet moments to contemplate my parenting.

I know that the extent of my deliberations are mostly unreasonable.  And, quite honestly, I don't expect any normal person to actually care about whatever subject is occupying my mind at the moment.  Despite the amount of mental energy I expend, I realize that most of these decisions are really quite insignificant.  If I hear other people sing Five Little Ducks, I don't sit and think to myself that they are inadvertently undermining their authority with their children.  If people sing it to my kids, I will lose absolutely no sleep over it. Unless I already don't like them.  Then I am likely to assume that their song choice is a subtle ploy to ruin my life and sabotage all future generations of my posterity.  I have no use for such subterfuge, and will respond by plotting their destruction.  However, I am a redhead and a former high school teacher.  My destruction plotting skills are well honed and quite efficient.  My sleep hours will remain unaffected.

If any aspect of parenting lends itself to overthinking it is potty training.  And since I made no attempt at potty training until well after my first little redhead turned three, I had a few years to thoroughly analyze how every part of my potty training strategy might influence my children's future earning potential, social well being, and ultimate life satisfaction.

After much reflection, I decided that, for a myriad of reasons, I would not emphasize or reward using the toilet.  Instead, what I focused on and praised was dry and clean underwear.  It semmed to work.  The whole potty training experience was relatively short and stress free.  He got the hang of it pretty quickly and has had only a few accidents in the last several months.  So I counted it a parenting win.

Then, the other day I asked my oldest little redhead to get dressed.  I reminded him to put on clean underwear.  "But Mama, I don't need to. I just kept my underwear dry and clean all night like I am supposed to."  And once again, hours of my best intellectual concentration was completely dismantled in fourteen seconds by a preschooler.

September

You know those "friends" you have.  The ones who haven't talked to you in years, and suddenly they invite you over for dinner.  You think to yourself how nice it will be to see how they are doing and what they have been up to.  Then you get there and realize that by "Why don't you come over for dinner?" what they meant was, "I have a sales pitch I'd like you to listen to."

Some don't even go through the pretense of offering a meal.  These are the friends you've hidden from your Facebook news feed because every post is about MaryKay.  Often these friends even ask you to throw the party and host them.

And then there are the people that add you on Facebook a week before they ask you how many Girl Scout cookies you are going to buy.  They ignore you for the rest of the year.  They probably know nothing about you.  But when it's Girl Scout cookie season suddenly they get all chummy.

It's tacky and it's annoying.  A very smart man once told me (really told someone else while I was listening) when you sell only to your friends, what you are actually doing is begging.

Today, I am that friend.  September happens to be National Sewing month and Shameless Promotion month.  It's true.  I looked it up on a highly credible website that specializes in obscure observances.  So I decided to celebrate by announcing my new Etsy shop.  I much prefer to use this space for trivial drivel, so this is the one and only time I will mention it.

My shop is thebestbibs.etsy.com. I make awesome full coverage bibs.  If you know someone who has a child in the early stages of self feeding, this is the bib for them.  Actually, it's a great bib for all stages of self feeding.  Rather than just keeping a shirt clean, it will protect an entire adorable ensemble from collar to socks.  I would like to get some reviews posted on my page, so I'm having a little promotion.  A "grand opening sale" of sorts.  September is also National Coupon month (for real.  It's National Piano month too, but I can't really find a way to make that relevant) The coupon code Wearefriends will get you a bib plus shipping for a total of $8.

And, in true grand opening promotional type fashion, this code will only work for my next three sales.  So, you know, don't wait, hurry in, buy now, blah blah blah...

If you buy one now you can have it in time to celebrate National Messy Eating month (which I don't think is a real thing, but I want make it one.)

Kindness: Part 5

I realize that most of my posts about kindness involve grocery shopping.  Perhaps something about the brightly lighted displays and fresh flowers of a grocery store puts people in a cheerful, cooperative, and helpful mood.  Or maybe it's just that most of my interaction with the outside world happens at grocery stores.  Also, it is likely that a grocery shopping trip is the time when a very pregnant mother of two young children appears to need the most help.  But, whatever the reason, I find people to be very kind when I am grocery shopping.

This week I had a very short shopping list, so we made it through the store pretty quickly.  The store wasn't very busy, but there was only one cashier, so the line was quite long.  When it was our turn to check out, my three year old decided to help load the groceries onto the conveyor belt.  He grabbed a gallon of milk and dropped it.  The carton broke and milk exploded everywhere.  Everyone had to move out of line so that the mess could be cleaned up.  After the milk had been mopped the cashier rang up my groceries.  Just as she announced my total someone pushed his way to the front of the line and said, "Wait, I got you another gallon of milk."  He had been behind me in line, and when he saw the mess he ran to the back of the store to replace the exploded gallon.

On an unrelated note, we have survived our first potty training experience at our house.  Survive is too dramatic a word.  The whole process was remarkably uneventful.  It did prompt some rather hilarious conversations about anatomy.  But I try to remember that someday my children will grow up and be old enough to be embarrassed.  So, while they are fabulous stories that would make you laugh, I have decided that they probably ought not be broadcast in an online venue.  Just know that life has been pretty funny around here lately.

Kindness: Parts Previous

Treasure Hunt

My kids love watching Jake and the Neverland Pirates.  The show isn't exactly a pinnacle of achievement in children's television, but their are worse options.  Actually, despite my goal to turn my children into nerds, I've decided that I'm opposed to educational TV programming.  But that is a topic for another day.  We stumbled across Jake on Netflix, and a few weeks ago when I had the flu I let him and his "merry crew of Neverland pirates" babysit my kids.  It is almost disturbing how much of the show they can quote.  They really don't get to watch it that often, but my little boy can pretty much quote verbatim every episode he has seen.  His little sister can't recreate the episodes, but she knows all of the tag lines.  She likes to say "Aw coconuts," and tries to count gold doubloons.  I'm pretty sure that the other day she was saying "Jolly Roger," but her speech isn't always completely clear, so I could be wrong.

This weekend we made an awesome hot wheels track in the kitchen.  It started on the refrigerator, went over the counters, and crossed a few chairs.  Due to my lack of foresight, the track ended on the floor right in front of the stove.  It took a while to set up, and the kids were so excited.  I even tried to heighten the suspense by making them pick the perfect car for the inaugural run and count backwards from 10 before letting it go.  They were delighted and thrilled for about 30 seconds.  Then the car reached the end of the track and kept rolling right under the stove.  I think they both wondered why I had made them work so hard to lose their favorite car.

It was a disaster until I remembered that they love the Neverland pirates.  I told them we were going on a treasure hunt to find their car.  We tried several methods of extraction, but finally I gave up and just moved the stove.  My little girl exclaimed "treasure!" and picked up an entirely different car.  The kids also found a purple spoon, a yellow magnet, tons of cereal, and the car we were originally looking for.  Now they want to know if they can go on a treasure hunt under the dishwasher.

There is probably no hope for you to be normal if your mom used to be a History teacher.

I have finally admitted this week that it is one of the deep desires of my heart for my children to grow up to be nerds.  There is an important distinction between nerdiness and intelligence.  I'm aiming for nerdiness.  I don't want my kids to be so smart that school is boring and feels pointless to them.  I don't want them to have unnaturally high IQs that cause social convention to completely elude them.  It would be nice if they were just slightly smarter than average.  Just smart enough to get a scholarship.  That would be the perfect amount of intelligence.

Wherever my kids fall on the IQ scale, I do hope that they will enjoy some intellectual pursuits.  I want them to enjoy learning new things.  I want them to be curious about how things work and then figure it out.  I hope that they grow up to enjoy libraries and museums.  I hope they will read frequently.  I want them to have a decent knowledge of the classics and be able to understand an allusion to Greek mythology.  If they would occasionally make their own references that would be even better.  At the very least I hope that they will learn to differentiate among elusion, allusion, and illusion.

I want them to watch the news and know where Crimea is.  Or if they don't know, I want them to care enough to find out.  I hope that they never vote in a presidential election only to be surprised to find out that the popular vote does not determine the next executive of our country.  I hope that they have musical proclivities and know the difference between tonic and dominant tones.  I would love it if they could appreciate the artistry of a well executed key change.

My desire to turn my kids into nerds hit a high point this week.  I enjoy reading to my kids.  They have favorite stories that they sometimes request, but I noticed that often they don't care what I'm reading to them.  They just like to have some time to sit in my lap and hear my voice.  If there are pictures involved they will sit quietly for a very long time.  This observation reminded me of a book that I used when I was teaching high school.  I used to check it out of the library every year when it was time to teach the American Revolution.  I decided that I must own this book and start frequently reading it to my children.  Because, if they don't care what I'm reading to them, it might as well be the Declaration of Independence.  




The book is out of print, but I tracked down a copy.  It is the actual text of the Declaration of Independence, and each phrase is illustrated.  My book arrived in the mail a few days ago, and I am unreasonably excited about it.  The day it arrived I saw my three year old pull it off the shelf and start flipping though the pages.  My inner History teacher is overjoyed.

Sundays

We were out of town this week, so I had a break from my usual Sunday assignment of teaching the 9 year old Sunday school class.  Instead, I spent all of church with adults.  It was extremely boring.  One benefit of being with the children is that there is a lot more music involved.  Another is that kids are awesome and entertaining.  Teaching on Sundays reminds me of a lot of the things I enjoyed about my full time teaching days.  This year we are studying the Old Testament, and the kids have plenty of random and unexpected things to say that make me smile.

Lesson about the creation:
"I don't know why Heavenly Father had to rest on the seventh day.  Jesus did all the work."

Lesson on Adam and Eve:
While I was trying to explain what it means to be created in the image of God
"Does that mean that He has freckles like me?"

Lesson on Noah:
"Wait, was this before the Empire State Building was built?"
and
"It says that Noah was 600 years old when the flood started, but that can't be true.  It's not possible to live that long.  He must have eaten only broccoli and eggs."

The Snake Story

During the summer after my first year of college I worked in the Emergency Room.  If I were trying to have a controversial, socially relevant, or In any way serious blog this would be a post about how it is possible to get a degree without student loans.  Instead my goal is to have a largely frivolous blog.  For the purposes of this post the point of bringing up the job is that strange things happen in the Emergency Room.

My job was not medically related at all.  I was the annoying person who insisted on seeing insurance information and identification.  It was also my job to ask parents to sign a mountain of paperwork before their child's broken arm could be set.  However, the ER staff was aware that I was also completing my EMT training, and they were very supportive.  I was occasionally invited back from the registration desk to see what was going on.  If there was anything particularly interesting happening I usually got to be a part of it.  The doctors and nurses were always happy to answer any of my questions.  I learned a lot.  Unfortunately, the most exciting stuff always seemed to happen on my day off.

The best Emergency Room story I have is one that I did not participate in at all.  A member of my EMT class was part of the crew that brought the woman in, and she was treated at the hospital where I worked.  I heard multiple times about all the excitement that I missed.  I am fully aware that it is entirely possible that most of the story is exaggerated or fabricated, but it is such a great story that I have decided to retell it here.

A woman (whose name I never knew.  Confidentiality laws and all that...) had a very large pet snake.  When she opened the cage to feed it, the snake grabbed both the food being offered and the woman's hand.  I dislike snakes and know very little about them.  I do know two things: a snake's teeth are angled toward the back of the mouth, and snakes apparently have no gag reflex.  These two things meant that this woman's hand was very stuck inside her pet.  The more she tried to pull her hand out, the further the teeth dug into her.  She used her free hand to call 911.

Somewhere between the end of the emergency call, but before the ambulance arrived, she thought that it would be a good idea to put her free hand into the snake's cage to try to pull her first hand out.  By the time paramedics arrived both hands were stuck inside the snake.  The first responder to arrive looked at her, swore, and said "I don't do snakes."  Then he walked out.  Fortunately for the woman, he was part of a larger group; some of whom were willing to deal with snakes.

I have no idea what exactly they did.  I do know that she was very concerned that they might hurt the snake that was eating her.  I also know that by the time she arrived in the emergency room her hands were no longer inside a snake.

Good Morning

I have reached the point in pregnancy where reasonable sleep patterns are unattainable.  At 2 in the morning when the house is dark and quiet and the circadian rhythm of a normal human being would dictate sleep, I instead find myself experiencing insomnia induced by heartburn, leg cramps, contractions, and general pregnancy discomfort.  At 2 in the afternoon when my kids want to run, shout, play, and generally be toddlers, I can barely keep my eyes open.  I find that I get my best sleep starting around 6:00 in the morning.  My kids like to wake up around 7:30.  I usually hear them wake up, and then roll over and go back to sleep until they come find me and ask for breakfast.

Surprisingly, my kids are extremely well behaved during their unsupervised morning play time.  They play for over an hour without causing any mayhem.  Their favorite morning toys are books, puzzles, and cars.  They never climb on anything, color on anything, or get into anything that they shouldn't.  Then they eat breakfast and chaos ensues.  Breakfast ruins my children.  I've considered skipping the meal altogether, but I think starving your children counts as neglect, or abuse, or at least cause for severe judgement from other moms.

When the kids are tired of being well behaved and self sufficient, they come wake me up and ask for breakfast.  The first thing my little boy says to me is always funny.  Here are a few of my favorites:

"The monsters are trying to get into the scare program."

"I need to make my tummy feel better with M&Ms"

"Remember when I got in the big huge football bathtub?"

"My sister is not in her bed and I need to draw you a beautiful picture."

"Can you read the cupcake to me?"

Sundays are less fun because we have church early and I usually have to wake my kids up.  They aren't as entertaining when they are groggy.  This morning the little redhead didn't say anything to me until we were in the car and almost at church.  Then he said, "Mama, I just told Daddy for you to stop waking me up."

I agree with him.  Things are much more fun when he is the one that wakes me up.

Kindness: Part 4

Proving that I am not the only person in the world who occasionally encounters a kind stranger, today's post comes from another redhead from Colorado and former roommate of mine.  Technically I don't think we ever had the same address, but some people just count as roommates no matter where they live.

From Sarah:
Today I am grateful for Ted Talks and kind hearted souls. Yesterday I made an attempt to get from my severely delayed flight to a connecting flight within 30 minutes- crossing through customs at immigration. I asked a handful of fellow travelers if they wouldn't mind me cutting in line, and when one kind soul (Max) responded with a look of empathy I burst into tears. He was incredibly encouraging and then processed to sprint with me helping me to navigate through JFK to terminal 2. In a moment of rest he mentioned he had been traveling for 48 hours and was stranded in Portugal because a passenger had a heart attack. He watched an inflight Ted Talk (incidentally I did too) which shows the brain's response to stress is to reach out to others. So in his exhaustion he decided to help me. I arrived at the gate three minutes after the door to the plane closed, but I'll never forget Max, more stressed than me seeing an opportunity to help another human soul.

Kindness: Part 3

Most of the time I enjoy grocery shopping with my kids.  I don't enjoy grocery shopping with tired and cranky children.  But if I plan well, time things right, and don't try to hurry, we can generally have a good time at the store together.  We have a good time smelling all the flowers and looking at the neatly piled heads of lettuce and picking the largest bunch of bananas we can find.  We always buy bananas.  I don't like bananas at all.  I am decidedly outvoted.  I haven't eaten a banana in years, but I have purchased dozens weekly since my oldest first started eating solid food.

When we just need eggs and milk (and bananas) we shop at Aldi.  It's kind of a fun little store.  And it makes me smile that when we get to the parking lot my little redhead knows exactly where we are.  "Mama, we are going to buy milk and eggs!"  One of my favorite things about shopping at Aldi is that the shopping carts have two seats in the front.  It is so convenient to have my kids sitting next to each other sharing a package of fruit snacks.  Actually, the shopping carts are pretty much the entire reason that I shop there.  If they had a bigger selection I wouldn't ever shop anywhere else.  If any other grocery store in my area ever decides to offer double seated carts I will become a loyal costumer.

Aldi has one of those fancy cart contraptions near the entrance to the store where you pay a quarter to get a cart.  When you return the cart you get a quarter back.  The last time we shopped at Aldi we parked kind of far away.  A gentleman parked sort of near me had just returned his cart.  He came back to his car and saw me with a child in each arm.  Instead of getting in his car and driving off, he went back to the front of the store and got a cart for me.  He met me in the parking lot and patiently held the cart to make sure it wouldn't roll down the hill while I loaded both kids.  He gave them each a high five and wished us a good day.

Social Media

I like it when people post articles on facebook.  It gives me something interesting to look at that only takes about five minutes to read.  And five minutes is currently the average increment between crises at my house, so the timing is perfect.  Social media has certainly given more people a platform to voice opinions.  Stay at home moms that used to only talk to other moms at the park can now pontificate to a much wider audience.  And while they can reach more people, I'm not sure they are able to produce more results.  Based on the very limited sample that is my own personal experience, I conclude that no one has ever been persuaded by anything they read on facebook.  In the last week I have responded to posted articles in the following ways.

Article warning that eating sugar causes impending death:  I was thoroughly unconvinced.  Instead of persuading me to avoid sugar, this article made me crave dessert.  I made chocolate cupcakes and oatmeal cookies.  I thoroughly enjoyed consuming both.  

Article asking people to boycott watching the Olympics due to Russia's poor treatment of stray dogs: I had completely forgotten that the Olympics were starting this week.  I was glad for the reminder, and checked to make sure I would be recording the opening ceremony.  Side note- I am not a fan of animal cruelty.  Of all the problems in Russia worthy of activist attention, I was surprised that treatment of stray dogs is what ended up in my news feed.

Yet another article declaring that vaccinating children is sentencing them to autism:  I remembered that my little boy had a birthday last week.  I made an appointment for his next round of immunizations.  

An article about how only worthless, heartless parents would ever allow their kids to consume the atrocity that is fast food.  Clearly foisting chicken nuggets upon innocent children is akin to force feeding them arsenic:  My kids ate at Chic-fil-a because cold weather has kept them inside all week, and Chic-fil-a has a slide.   Also, the kids love the little applesauce pouches they get, and I like that someone who is not me sweeps the mess on the floor.  I think it's a win for everyone.