05.26.2008

Her birthday party will be next weekend, so we don't lose all our invitees to out of town Memorial Day weekend plans. Today was a great day for just the three of us alone to celebrate. We did Meridian's favorite thing in all the world: went to the waterpark. Despite the icy cold water, we had a great time. It was a blast to be back in a familiar place and to know the lay of the land, and also to be surprised with some new additions, like the see-saw that sprays you when you ride it. We came home for a quiet dinner and some cake. Chocolate cake with chocolate icing. Meridian asked for a huge piece and then licked the icing off without taking so much as a bite of cake.

05.12.2008

Yesterday was a lovely Mother's Day. David and Meridian let me sleep in, and then woke me up around 10am with breakfast in bed. We had a lazy morning, and then spent the afternoon at Botannical Gardens. It was windy and gloomy and threatening to rain, and there was something romantic about being outside in that blustery weather and hearing the wind rustle through the trees and ornamental grasses. We went on a scavenger hunt through the Children's World of Wonders Garden, then sat in a big 'ol porch swing watching the trees sway and snuggling to keep warm, then had fun pointing our big 'ol umbrella into the wind to keep the drizzle off us as we walked back to the parking lot. It was wonderful. David and Meridian cooked a taco dinner and cleaned up. It was a great day!

04.23.2008

It's been a couple of weeks since I mentioned I was going to go visit preschool during playground time on the one day that she is out there with "the mean boys". That day came last Wednesday. My hope was that if I was on the playground with her that my presence would make her feel safer and more comfortable, and that if that didn't happen on its own that I would be able to distract her by getting a game going with her friends. Well, this plan was a bomb. I went out with the class, and she seemed happy to have me there, but also aware of my intentions. She stayed by me for the first few minutes, thwarted my efforts to play, and then seeing that I was not planning to just silently hold her she gave up on me. She resorted to her usual Wednesday afternoon game plan: stand with Mrs. C and hold her hand, gripping tighter if anyone qualifying as a "mean boy" came within a thirty foot radius. I watched this, both happy that she had some plan that worked for her, and saddened that she felt so immobilized. Standing around like a lump wasn't working for me, so I began to play with some of her classmates, and before long, I saw that Mrs. C had convinced her to shoot hoops. A few minutes after that, she was jumping off of the climbing wall. I breathed a little easier. She wasn't having a free-for-all good time, but she wasn't paralyzed with fear either. I decided to go. She was in good hands.

In an interesting turn of events, we happened to encounter one of the "mean boys" at the park the next day. Meridian immediately wanted to leave when she noted his presence. Since we were there with friends, a quick getaway was not a feasible response. After much enouragement, I realized that she was not going to be able to relax. I suggested we go get some of our outdoor toys from the trunk and play in the field away from the other kids. What seemed like a great solution worked fine for about ten minutes, until the other kids discovered that our toys are really cool. Before long, a crowd of kids had joined us to shoot off stomp rockets and examine the caterpillar we had in the magnifying bucket. Meridian was more reserved, but okay with this. Until he joined us. (Let's call him X.) I turned a blind eye for a bit, hoping to observe how the situation resolved itself without my intervention. As X neared the front of the line, Meridian was overcome with tears. She came over to me, gushing. I felt horrible.

I could completely empathize with her. Someone she was afraid of and who had been mean to her was now playing with her toys; she couldn't enjoy her own things because she was too scared of X. On the other hand, I could empathize with him too. He isn't a mean kid. He's just a boy who likes to rough house, who likes to make faces and play good guys and bad guys. I was at a momentary loss for how to react. I wanted to comfort her. But I also didn't think it was fair to tell X that he was the only kid on the playground who couldn't play with our things. After all, there had been no incident at the park preceeding this to point to as a reason. Of course, expecting her to empathize with how he would feel if he was left out would just have been too much to expect, given her mental state at the time. I asked her what she thought we should do, and we settled on talking to him — and I was to do the talking. And so, I carried Meridian over to X, and we had this conversation:

Me: Hi X. Do you remember Meridian from your school?
X: Yes.
Me: You guys sometimes play on the playground together.
X: Uh-huh.
Me: Meridian asked me if we could talk to you. She wants you to know that she's scared of you. Sometimes you and the other boys like to make mean faces at the girls or chase them, and that is very scary for her.
X gets quiet and has that chastised look.
Me: It's okay, I know you're not a mean kid. I know you're just playing. I was hoping if I told you how scared that makes Meridian, you might try not to do that to her anymore. Do you think you could try not to make mean faces or chase her?
X withdraws further, and I decide it's time to retreat.

In the middle of that chat, when X started to exhibit uncomfortable sort of behavior, I decided I'd better track down his mom and let her know I'd talked to him about this. So, I had another mom introduce me, and I explained the kind of reaction Meridian's been having to the rough play on the playground. The other mom was very supportive, sympathizing with how Meridian must feel. She called X over and repeated the same sort of conversation I'd just had with him along with some other questions. She added, "Do you know that Meridian is so scared of you that she doesn't even want to go to school anymore?" and "How does that make you feel?" X said that made him sad, and that he didn't want to be mean to the girls, but he was afraid that TJ would be mean to him if he didn't. In the end, he said that he wouldn't be mean to Meridian anymore. X went back to play with the group of kids and the toys. Meridian and I headed off to the playground section alone.

Over the course of the next week, we role-played the conversation with her dolls several times, along with the scenario that was likely to follow on the playground the next Wednesday. Sometimes in the role-play, she decided that X was still mean to her, and she was mean back to him. Sometimes she decided he was mean, and she reminded him not to be. Sometimes she decided he wasn't mean anymore. Besides role play, we had an occassional real conversation about it. She asked if she could make mean faces back at the mean boys. I told her that she could if that made her feel better, but that if she did they would probably think that she liked the "mean face game" since she was playing it too. That probably wouldn't make them want to stop making mean faces, and it might confuse X since we told him that was scary. I also told her a secret trick about smiles: if you give one away, you almost always get one back. And I pretended to trick her into smiling at me by smiling first at her. We practiced making mean faces and smiles in the mirror so she'd be prepared for whatever she decided when the time came.

And that time came today. I hadn't relayed the events fron the park to her teacher, prefering to see how things played out without adult intervention. Upon picking her up, Mrs. P said she had had a fantastic day. She said that Meridian had come up with the idea of approaching TJ and telling him that making mean faces is scary and to please try not to do that. Mrs. P was shocked and jumped at the suggestion. Meridian didn't want to do the talking, so she gave the message to Mrs. P who relayed it to TJ. TJ said that sometimes he hears a mean noise that makes him want to do mean things, but that he would try to not be scary. After that Meridian apparently played on the playground. Really played on it, jumping on the pods, going on the swings, acting like it was a Tuesday and not a dreaded Wednesday. When I asked her how her day was, she said "Great!" I could not be a prouder mommy. She's growing up, tackling new skills. Communication, diplomacy, and negotiation in the face of fear. She deserved every bite of the ice cream she got to eat before dinner today!

04.21.2008

Last week, Meridian's school celebrated a safety day and hosted a Touch-a-Truck event. It was fantastic. They had everything from police horses to a fire engine to a police boat to a helicopter. The kids all got a to sit outside in the field and watch the helicopter land, and then each class took turns touring each vehicle. They got to climb all over them. In the ambulance, they played paramedic with one classmate laying on the gurney, one taking blood pressure, one listening to the heartbeat. The paremedic was fantastic with the kids, wrapping their heads up in gauze and giving them each a band-aid. The whole class tried to climb on the truck scale, and about half of them managed to squeeze on, weighing in at just under 400 lbs. Everyone in the whole class was brave enough to pet the horses, and all but two (one of whom was Meridian) climbed onto the blade of the copter for a class photo. A fireman climbed the hook-and-ladder all the way into the sky, and a fire safety clown did a skit. It was a really great program, and Meridian had a blast!

04.09.2008

Love words that melted me today: "I love you because I love you and because I have a heart that's so filled up with love that just has to burst out and get to you."

04.08.2008

The Magic Treehouse Series

We discovered The Magic Treehouse series, by Mary Pope Osbourne, when Meridian got the first story on CD in a ChickFilA kids meal. The first book is called Dinosaurs Before Dark. Too tired to fill an ad hoc request for a story first thing in the morning, I put the CD on while Meridian and I showered one morning. She got right up to the climax just fine, and then wanted it turned off immediately, as it was "too scary". Not willing to freeze while darting across the room to turn off the CD, I told her that we would listen together and that everything would be alright in the end, and that nothing was going to happen to Jack and Annie (the two protagonists). She unwillingly suffered through the rest of the CD with me, and that was that. I put the CD away, and thought perhaps we'd dig it out in a year or so and try again. Two days later, she was asking me to put the CD on for her again. I reminded her how scared she'd been, and suggested we wait. She dismissed this out of hand, pronouncing it not at all scary. So, I put it on for her, and she listened to it over and over again for weeks. At the library, I decided to find the accompanying book, and see if the subsequent books looked scary at all.

As soon as Meridian saw that there was an entire series of these books, she was a devoted fan. We got a couple of the other books and the tapes of the author reading them. In the car on the way home, we listened to Pirates Past Noon; again Meridian was fine right up until the climax, and then wanted the story stopped. This time, I was prepared. I asked if she was scared that something was going to happen to Jack and Annie, and when she said yes, I promised her that nothing would. I promised that they would get away and that no one would hurt them. (This was part gamble, part skim reading.) Relieved, she said I could put the story back on. At certain parts she would ask me to stop it and reassure her again that no harm would come to the brother and sister pair, and then the story would resume again. And this is how it went with the next few stories. After listening to them once with me, she was then confident enough to listen to them again on her own. By her fourth book, Meridian no longer needed the safety net of listening to the book with me first. She'd grown to trust the author, and understand the formula. She could anticipate the benchmarks as they were reached: Jack and Annie set off on a new adventure through history, Jack and Annie learn about the period, Jack and Annie encounter danger, Jack and Annie rely on their wits (and sometimes the magical intervention of a friend) to get them out of danger, Jack and Annie help someone back in time, and then return to the present day with the answer to a riddle or puzzle.

Despite the reassuring formula, and the knowledge that Jack and Annie would not be hurt, there were some books I elected to skip because of their themes. One of the early ones was Mummies in the Morning. Yes, mummies have a historical relevance and explanation, but Meridian's frame of reference for mummies comes from her picture books on Halloween. Knowing that Jack and Annie meet a mummy was enough to make me want to skip this episode for now. As it turned out though, the cassettes usually come in a set with four stories. Despite my meager attempts to keep the mummy tape concealed, Meridian managed to get ahold of it, and listen to it. It turns out my fears were without merit. She was so unphased that I didn't even know she'd listened to it until days later when we were working on her postcard geography project. She asked if we could put a pin in "ancient Egypt". Not knowing where she'd picked that up, I asked who she knew in Egypt. Imagine my surprise when she told me, "Queen Hutepi, the mummy of a queen in ancient Egypt. She's not alive because she's a mummy. That means bones all wrapped up like a mummy. She's not alive. She's made of air." Later we turned one of her dolls into a mummy and mapped Egypt (which she insists is really called "ancient Egypt").

After seeing how well she handled that, I decided that I too could trust the author. And so, Meridian moved through the series at her own pace. Her first independent reading experience! Each time she gets a new one, she sits raptly looking through the book while the author reads the story. After the first reading, she is comfortable with the her knowledge of the story, and no longer gives the author her undivided attenion, instead playing while Ms. Osbourne reads, or sometimes even flipping through a different book altogether. It's been interesting for me to watch this from the periphery, to see how she manages her attention. It's given me a lucky view into the way her brain works, and it's taught me to be even more vigilant in letting her learn her own way. Before this experience, I was inclined to stop reading when I sensed her interest or attention had waned. I judged both by her body language and by whether or not she seemed distracted. How interesting to see that left to herself, she chooses to occupy herself with multiple endeavors at the same time. I'm reminded of the many times I have insisted to David that I can carry on a conversation with him while I clean/cook/type/read the mail. It reminds me to let her direct the path her learning takes, and to rely on her to tell me when she's ready to change directions.

We got about ten stories into the series before I decided it was time for a break. Meridian was having nightmares, reaching out in her sleep crying out in German "Hilfe, hilfe!" (Help, Help!) and talking before bedtime about alligators under her bed and ghosts in her closet. I didn't have to think hard to connect these instances to Afternoon on the Amazon and Ghost Town at Sundown. I decided that the anxiety was carrying over into her real life too much, and that there was no real incentive to continue with the stories if they worried her. They are intended for a 9-10 year old audience. Perhaps we'd just jumped the gun, and now she was in over her head. I put an embargo on The Magic Treehouse books for a while. A very short while, as it turned out, because Meridian would plead and plead during library visits, refuting all of my explanations about her anxiety. My friend, Angela, helped me think through it, suggesting she liked the thrill of the fear and making analogies to adults riding rollercoasters or renting horror films. And so, I relented, deciding yet again (it's the kind of decision that you constantly have to remind yourself of) to let her direct her own interests and course of study. And interestingly, she summarized her experience quite well on her own in a conversation completely unrelated to Magic Treehouse.

We were driving back from DC recently, and she asked me for a story. Trying to pass the time, I stretched the story on and on. Meridian interrupted finally, saying "Mommy, you do know that stories are supposed to have something exciting or scary happen in them, right?" My story had no climax, no drama, no build, and she wanted for it. I continue to be blown away by this little person who has sailed through 24 of these stories to date, who retains details that even I forget, who told me last night that she loves me bigger than Mount Vesuvius (Vacation Under the Volcano), who intuitively discerns formal elements of plot before those concepts have been presented to her, who thirsts for story and for knowledge, and who loves books. I'm so very lucky to have her.

04.07.2008

I updated The Love List.

04.05.2008

Wednesday marked an interesting milestone: the first time Meridian pretended to be sick in an attempt to play hooky. Did I mention that she's three years old? Remember that new phase of parenting I mentioned only moments ago?

Wednesdays are not her favorite day at preschool. On Wednesdays, her class shares the playground with another class. This other class is home to TJ, short for Terror Jockey. "TJ is not nice," as Meridian puts it. On of her classmates recently gave him the superlative description, "TJ is the meanest kid in the whole school." On one occasion (I learned from parents this week), TJ pushed down and punched one of the other kids in her class several times. His prescence on the playground for the 25 minutes of shared play time is enough make her want to miss the entire day.

I've spoken with her teachers. I've given her strategies for avoiding him, and for dealing with him if he confronts her. I've done all I can think of besides letting her run away, tail tucked between her legs. Apparently, it hasn't helped and we've arrived at a point where lying is preferable to facing the fear. To be redundant: parenting level two. And so, we had this conversation:

Meridian: I have a tummy ache. I'm sick. I'm too sick to go to preschool. Let's stay all the day in bed and read books.
Mommy: Wow. Okay, if you're sick, that's just what we'll do.
Meridian: Okay.
Mommy: Or maybe we could go to the zoo!
Meridian: Yeah!
Mommy: Oh wait, no, I forgot you're sick.
Meridian: I'm not too sick for the zoo. Only for preschool.
Mommy: But I don't want you to have a tummy ache at the zoo. We wouldn't want the animals to get sick.
Meridian: They won't get sick. Let's just go to the zoo. My tummy doesn't hurt too much for the zoo.
Mommy: Does it hurt too much for The Jumping Monkey?
Meridian: No, we could go there....
Mommy: Does it hurt too much for Chuck E Cheese?
Meridian: No, it doesn't hurt. Let's go to Chuck E Cheese! Let's go there, Mommy! Come on, let's go!
Mommy: You TURKEY! You tricked me. If your tummy does hurt too much for the zoo, and it doesn't hurt too much for The Jumping Monkey, and it doesn't hurt too much for Chuck E Cheese, then it doesn't hurt too much for school.
Meridian: Oh! But it does hurt too much for going to preschool on a TJ day. Is today a TJ day?
Mommy: Is that the reason you don't want to go to school? Because of TJ? You know Meridian, that's a good enough reason. You need to tell me true reasons, not make up pretend reasons. When I know the real reason, then we can find a solution together.
Meridian: Oh. But that IS true that I don't want to go to school on a TJ day. Can I just be sick today and read all day in bed?
Mommy: No, but you can ask Mrs. C to play with you the whole time on the playground. Or you can ask Mrs P if you can go to another classroom to play while the class goes to the playground. Or you can read books with Mrs. E while the class goes to the playground.
Meridian: Okaaaaaay. But I just wish I was sick.

She went to school that day, and Mrs C says Meridian was glued to her the entire time on the playground. The next day, Mrs. P said Meridian was a whole different child on Thursday, that her whole personality changes on Wednesday as she's consumed with anxiety about TJ. It's crazy! And I am torn because on the one hand, I don't want her feeling that crazy anxiety over play. On the other hand, I don't want to over-protect her so that she doesn't learn to handle these conflicts on her own. And still on a third hand that I don't even have, I don't want her attaching anxiety to preschool because of her fear of a simgle child. Mrs. P solicited solutions from me on Thursday after commenting on how different Meridian is on Wednesdays. I didn't have any at the time, besides those I'd already equipped Meridian with, but now typing this out, I think I may have come up with one. I think I'll try visiting the classroom on Wednesday afternoons right around playground time. Perhaps my presence on the playground to play and distract and protect will be enough to quell her fears. I'll have to check back in next Wednesday and let you know.

04.02.2008

David put it best, "She's found this incredibly rich loophole in the natural order of the world." The loophole: using a game in order to motivate the other person to do what you want. Put more plainly, she's seen right through me. This is a technique in my mommy bag of tricks that gets a lot of mileage, and generally always works.

Clearly, she's noticed. She's begun saying, "Let's play a game," before launching in to the intructions. One example: "If I stand in front of the refrigerator, it means I get a healthy snack. If I stand in front of the ball basket, we play ball. If I stand in front of the marshmallow cabinet, I get a marshmallow. If I stand in front of the sink, I get some water. Okay. I'm standing, .....hmmmmmm, ...I'm standing in front of the marshmallow cabinet."

It's a clever ploy, and she's good at it too - already hiding the desired result in a list of things that would not be blips on the radar, already pretending to consider which of the items from her list that she'll settle on. I think this clearly demarks the end of round one, and we have advanced to the next level of parent/child interactions. Game on.

04.01.2008

Meridian: Mommy, you have a tiger in your hair.
Mommy: Oh, I—
Meridian: APRIL FOOL! I tricked you!

The finer points of this sort of joke haven't sunken in. ;) But her joy was contagious.

03.30.2008

We have been exploring idioms quite a bit. Meridian has been plucking them out of other people's language and dropping them in places as an exploration of whether or not she understands their meanings. It has totally taken me off gaurd how well she's been able to do this, and I find it just adorable because it's so unexpected. Her absolute favorite of late is: That's where I draw the line. We created a game about it when she was initially trying to understand its meaning, which goes like this: we ask her culminating questions, which she answers yes until she reaches her breaking point and says "That's where I draw the line."

Mommy: Would you drink water?
Meridian: Yes.
Mommy: Would you drink milk?
Meridian: Yes.
Mommy: Would you drink juice?
Meridian: Yes.
Mommy: Would you drink soup?
Meridian: Yes.
Mommy: Would you drink rain?
Meridian: Yes.
Mommy: Would you drink bath water?
Meridian: Yes.
Mommy: Would you drink peepee?
Meridian: THAT'S where I draw the line!

Ironically, she sometimes says, "That's where I cross the line" and the inadvertant but ironically-accurate slip tickles my funny bone. For instance, when she "crossed" the line at eating asparagus, which in fact crosses her own line in the sand, but she will eat it when prodded.

03.18.2008

James and the Giant Peach

James and the Giant Peach is one of my favorite read-aloud children's books. I've read it many time, and love the quirky characters, the opportunity to voice them, and the imaginative adventures they experience together. When selecting this book to read to Meridian, I knew straight-away that it would require some substantial editing on my part. But I also knew that she would love the concept and thrive on the inventiveness of the plot. Boy did I peg that one right. Luckily, our reading has switched over to day-time reading as Papi has taken over the bedtime routine. I say "luckily" because after reading chapter one with Meridian hanging on every word, she was eager to push on. We actually read the first 40 pages in a single sitting, only stopping because *I* needed a break.

The book begins right away needing some editing for my young audience. I wasn't fast enough though. Within the first few sentences, James' parents are killed - run down by an escape rhinoceros. The first few paragraphs generally being intro and fluff in a book, I wasn't quite on my game, and I read those sentences out before I knew what I'd done. Concerned, I paused and looked to Meridian inquisitively, partially asking whether to continue partially betraying my concentration as I raced through explanations for this scenario in my mind. To match my raised brow and pursed lips, I said to her, "What do you think?" To which she said, as if I were being silly, "Nooooooo, ...I think that's a trick." I took her lead (much better than anything I'd come up with) and ran with it, "You do? Hmmm, ...you think they're really still alive somewhere? Guess we'll have to wait and see..." I made the mental note to find a way to resuscitate his parents by the end of the book. And we went on with our reading. This experience was rife with edits on my part: I eliminated any references to the aunts beating James, and significantly toned down the nature of the way they speak to him (while still keeping their characters as meanies alive). Meridian requested that I not voice the characters of the aunts, but just read them since they were mean. I altered the Cloud Men chapters to make the cloud men more light-hearted and less angry. I greatly revised the ending scene where the peach lands on the Empire State Building, eliminating the mention of guns and bombs and voicing the characters more as "mystified" than "alarmed".

I wondered to myself as I read it, if the fact that I was having to edit so much of it indicated that it wasn't a good choice in the first place. But the way Meridian drank in this story was so different from the previous experiences. In the past, she's always been interested, but for this book she was positively riveted. This book was different from the ones we've read in that it had significantly more fantasy elements. If you set aside the anthropomorphizing of animals and toys in previous books, what remains is much more adventure than fantasy. But James and the Giant Peach was rife with fantastical plot twists: magical worms; a peach the size of a building that flies through the air, carried by seagulls; men made of clouds that paint the rainbows and throw down hail. No, there was no setting this book aside. It was just what she wanted to read. And it firmly gave Roald Dahl a place on our bookshelf. She and David have since read German translations of his Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and are currently reading The Big Friendly Giant.

03.15.2008

We went geocaching today. The first cache we went to was in a quiet spot in the woods behind a park and the athletic center. The second cache we went to was not exciting at all: right on the main road, covered in litter, just dingy. Even the cache was an old converted coke can. Despite the contrast from our first location, and the apparent lack of anything worthwhile to see, it was at this site that Meridian found nature. First the Canadian geese we passed in the made-made lake amid a sea of asphalt, then a dandilion clock waiting for someone to find it and blow its seeds free, then the dead luna moth among the grass. I walked around collecting trash, disgusted by the trashiness of the place, but she was too busy seeing nature to see the trash. She tried to share it with me, pointing out the geese. I saw them and smiled, but didn't find them magical. She tried to share it with me, bringing over her half-puffed dandelion to show her treasure. I puffed it with her, but wasn't especially moved. Even caught in the thorns, she tried to share it with. "Mommy, free me! The thorns are trying to eat me up!" And I freed her, and went on collecting trash. But I didn't pause to marvel at the mouth of thorns.

It took the luna moth. So pretty. So soft. So unexpected. I stopped to look at it with her, to realize that nature was right there with us among the asphalt and the debris. It was a sudden shift in perspective - the type that sometimes happens in movies where we're focused on the foreground, the background blurred, and suddenly the camera shifts and what we were looking at becomes a blurry mass and the background snaps sharply into focus. We bagged the moth and took it home with us. On the way out, I was more aware. I pointed out the hardened goose prints in the dried mud. We talked about the algae growing on the lake. We anticipated looking at the luna moth under a magnifying glass at home.

03.14.2008

Meridian's friend Millie has been aching to go to the beach, so we were delighted to be invited along on an impromptu trip to the bay. We spent about 90 minutes looking for shells and other treasures, and we found quite a bit. Some we were able to identify, thanks to our trips to the local aquarium, but others stumped us. Each of the girls filled a bucket, and we brought our treasures home. I've reflected in the past how ironic it is that we love to travel and learn about the places we visit, but we know so little about this area. So, following Meridian's interest in what the names of the things we'd found were, we got online to do some research. And it made me realize that we really should be spending more time getting to know the rich diversity of the Chesapeake Bay area. We've been guilty of not really seeing the opportunity right in front of us. In our effort to learn more about this area, I decided to share some of our finding here with you.

This is an egg case for a ray or a small shark (called a dogfish). The mommy puts the egg in it (just like a mommy bird puts her eggs into a nest) and when the egg hatches, the baby shark or ray breaks a hole in it and swims out. That's why all the ones we found had holes in them. Want to know something funny about these? People sometimes call them Mermaid's purses because they look like a little bag a mermaid could carry. Here's a picture of a baby ray that might have come out of an egg case like this:

Or perhaps it was a baby shark (called a dogfish), like this:

We also saw egg cases for snails called Whelk. The egg cases come in a long string, and people sometimes call them Mermaid's Necklaces. Here's a picture of a string of them and the shell that the Whelk lives in:

Some sea snails borrow shells from other animals, and have to leave their shell when it gets too small, but other kinds of snails grow their own shells and never leave them. A Whelk grows its own shell out of calcium carbonate, which it gets from the sea water. That is the same thing eggshells are made out of, but whelk shells are much thicker than eggshells. This is what the shell looks like with a Whelk in it:

We also found lots of Razorfish shells. We didn't know what they were, but we thought they were very interesting. They are long and delicate, skinny and rectangular. The ones we found were as long as a grown-up's finger. When we looked them up, we learned that they live under the sand, and they can dig even faster than a person! When they dig, they blow water down into the hole ahead of them so that it loosens the sand and they can move it out of the way. They're called Razorfish because their shells are shaped like the kind of razors (flat razors) that people use to shave their beards. They remind Meridian of fingernails. Here's a picture.

We found and recognized an oyster shell, and wanted to see what they look like with the oyster inside. We discovered that oysters look a little bit like boogies. Ewwwwwww. But people like to eat oysters, so they must not taste like boogies. We learned that the oysters in the Chesapeake Bay are called Eastern Oysters.

We also found lots and lots of clam shells. We didn't know that there were two kinds, but we found both and now we can tell the difference. The Chesapeake Bay has hard clams and soft-shelled clams. Knowing their names pretty much tells you the difference. The hard clams have shells that are really thick and hard, while the soft-shelled clams have shells that are thin and brittle. We found mostly soft-shelled clam-shells. We found more of them than anything else, ranging from the size of a half-dollar way down to itty-bitty.

We found only the claw of a Fiddler Crab. When we looked it up, we learned that their claws break off easily. Don't worry though, they don't use their claws to find food - just to impress the mommy crabs. They usually have one big claw and one small one. If they lose one claw, the other one grows bigger, and then they grow a new one to replace the one that came off.

The horseshoe crab shell we found was broken, but still easy to recognize. That is Meridian's favorite exhibit at the aquarium, and their shape is so distict that we knew right away what it was even though it was only a piece of one. Horsehoe crabs molt, which means they leave behind their old shell when it gets too small and grow a new one, so we're not worried about the one we found - it was probably just a piece of an old shell. We looked them up, and learned something new. They like to eat razorfish and soft-shelled clams like the ones we found on the beach.

We had lots of fun playing on the beach and collecting treasures, and we learned a lot about where we live and who else lives here. While we were researching our finds, we came across this great resource for learning more about the Chespaeake Bay. We're bookmarking this one to come back to when we want to learn some more. Check it out if you want to learn more about wildlife in the Chesapeake Bay.

03.12.2008

In January, David and I decided to pay off and stop using our credit card. We don't like the trend we've fallen into of buying without thinking, and then coping with the consequences when the bill arrives. As a result, I've needed to often repeat to Meridian, "We don't have money for that", "We've been spending too much money lately", and "We'll see if we have money left after we buy everything on our list." IT dawned on me that these comments seem pretty arbitrary to her since any time I want to buy anything, I just whip out my debit card and it always seems to work. So, I decided this week's grocery trip would be a different sort of learning experience, namely a lesson in money.

She knows that money buys things, as I often let her go through the express line with 15¢ and a banana before we begin our shopping. She's also quite interested in saving up the money in her piggy bank (until it's full) to be able to buy something. But I don't think she realizes that we have limits on our spending. So, before our grocery trip, we went to the bank and withdrew our weekly grocery budget amount in one dollar bills. Armed with 165 one dollar bills, we set off. At the grocery store, we went through our list. Each time we added something to the cart, I would round to the nearest dollar and tell her I needed that many dollars. She would pull out how many dollars we needed, and we'd put them into the cashier envelope. When possible, I'd point how out the price on the shelf corresponded to how much I was asking her for. She doesn't yet understand rounding, so this possibility only presented itself when the item was priced right at a dollar amount.

Some interesting things happened as a result of our experiment.

1. When she would ask for things as we passed the shelf, I would say "Well, let's see if we have any money left after we buy what's on our list." The idea that our money is finite began to sink in, and towards the middle of the trip she would say, "Maybe if we have any money left when we're done, we'll be able to get bacon/yogurt in the small cups/a lobster." I thought that definitely met our objective and was real progress.
2. I would point out how there are different brands of certain items, and how the costs vary a bit, and I'd ask her if we should get the 69¢ can of beans or the 79¢ can of beans. So, we got to explore some higher order values there, and she understood that we're looking to spend the least amount possible (for nutritiously comparable foods).
3. At one point while buying bread, I was reaching for one loaf and Meridian said, "Mommy, but you have to buy that one because it's on sale." Sure enough, the one she was pointing to had the little dangling red sign that indicated a sale. It happened still not to be the best value, so we discussed that idea, but I was struck by how she'd drawn the conclusions on her own that sale items are marked by a little sign and are cheaper.

After we checked out (thankful for the kind and very patient cashier as we counted out 148 one dollar bills), we were left with $17, which greatly pleased Meridian. During the course of the trip, her feelings graduated from content (because she was certain there would be enough to buy extras) to concerned (as the envelope the money was coming from got thinner and thinner) to resolved (as she came to peace with the idea that the purpose of the money was to buy the things on the list and that leftover money was not guaranteed) to elated (that we did in fact have some money left over.) I asked her which extra she would like to buy, and she knew immediately that she wanted "Moo milk that comes in a square box with a straw and a cow jumping over the moon on it." And so, we went and got a Horizon milk box for her, a container of Pillbsbury Grands for me, and a bag of frozen shrimp for David. And we were all happy.

03.07.2008

This morning, Meridian asked me if we couldn't pleeeeeease have a birthday party today. I explained that it wasn't anyone's birthday, but the pleases didn't stop. So, I asked who she thought we should have a birthday party for, and of course the answer was ...herself! Tempted, I found sanity in the last moment before giving in, and realized that this would be a dangerous precedent. I want her to appreciate her ONE birthday party a year. So, I said "No, but perhaps we could have a party for ...??" And tried to give physical hints toward her doll, Jennifer. She immediately poo-pooed that idea: "It needs to be a real person with a mouth who can eat real birthday cake and see the balloons with real eyes." And so, she put Papi's name on the table for consideration. And that is how we came to celebrate David's birthday on March 7th, despite his June 26th entry into the world.

As we went downstairs to the make the cake, Meridian's chatter was going full-speed with all the preparations to be made: "And we need to hang decorations, and we need to blow up balloons, and we should have sprinkles for the top of the cake and chocolate chips, and we need to wrap up some presents for him and sing Happy Birthday To You." And so, we spent the entire day preparing a party, ...decorating, baking, stopping to pick up a few balloons, shopping in our own garage for an appropriate present for Papi. All the while, poor David was quarantined to his office where we would occassionally bring him a drink or a snack. Finally, around two o'clock, we lit the birthday candles, called Papi downstairs, and launched into Happy Birthday, with a second verse:

It's not your birthday today.
It's not your birthday today.
It's not your birthday but we love you.
Happy birthday to you.

We all enjoyed a piece of cinnamon swirl cake with purple icing, and then David opened his gift. Meridian had selected the game Twister from a big pile of garage sale games in the garage, and she and David giggled contagiously as they played a few rounds, while I cleaned up the cake pans. Meridian was positively tickled with the game, and came running in to tell me, "Mommy, you HAVE TO play this game; it's so so so much fun!"

03.03.2008

We've got cooties, in the way of a stomach virus. I say we because although Meridian is the only one vomiting and with the runs, I count it as a joint effort since I've succeeded in wearing a good deal of the vomit. Poor girl, she's been complaining of a stomach ache for three or four days now. She generally gives this complaint when she needs to relieve herself, but I began to realize yesterday that she was complaining even after going to the bathroom and that she wasn't constipated. In that sense, I'm sort of glad the virus revealed itself today, else I might sit here wondering whether or not she had some odd organ disorder. Paranoia much?

We weathered the day primarily in bed, making a dent in The Cricket in Times Square and reading nearly all the picture books on Meridian's bookshelf . That gave me the opportunity to sort through her books (donation pile, duplicate pile, put away until older pile) and made her shelf much neater as a result. At some point, we piled all our clean laundry on my bed to sort, and Meridian said "How about we do teamwork and fold laundry while you read me stories?" It's endearing how teamwork always works out in her favor, but the sock monster managed to trick her into hanging all the shirts on their hangers.

Despite spending every moment of the day together, as is the frequent request lately, she found herself in want of the company of children. At one point, I asked how she was feeling, and she said "Good, I need a playdate now, and I'm ok for that." I said that the germs were still in her belly and we couldn't do a playdate because the germs were just waiting for a chance to jump on someone else and make them sick. "No, I'm not sick anymore. The germs are gone. [Barf, Barf. Barf some more.] Really, see. They're all gone now." I haven't broken it to her yet that we'll be skipping preschool tomorrow.

I plucked the book Meridian authored off her shelf today and added the full text of her story to my previous post about it; scroll down to the bottom of the 2.22.08 post if you'd like to read it. I also added a pic below to the sleepover post.

03.01.2008

Meridian had her first sleepover last night. It was very impromptu, an outgrowth of a self-discovery statement by her friend Cai, who having spent the day with us explained to us, "I sleep at my house Dawn, not at your house." His mom overhearing him, said that if he wanted to sleep at our house that would be okay. Meridian didn't waste any time jumping on that, and immediately requested a sleepover party for that night. Since we had no plans, I couldn't resist giving her the instant gratification for such a fun first. The sleepover grew into a camping in the livingroom party, and we ordered pizza and set up the tent. I thought for sure I'd be calling Cai's mom, either at bedtime when he realized that his parents weren't there, or in the middle of the night when he woke up, but they were asleep by 8pm and slept until 6:45am. Around midnight, I snuck downstairs to check on them. They had started the night each in their own respective sleeping bags on their own side of the tent, and when I checked on them they were out of bags all snuggled up side by side. It was so cute. I had to go up and get my camera. Of course, when I came back down, Meridian had rolled away and I couldn't get more than a tangle of curls in the shot, so I went and got a long peacock feather from a dried flower arrangement and tickled her cheek until she rolled back and I could have a shot of the two of them together in the tent. Cruel mommy.

In the morning, I woke to the two of them whispering, and peeping through sleepy eyes I saw them behind the blinds looking at the sky and heard their whispers, "It's still nighttime because the moon is out. We need to be very quiet." It was such a sweet sight. I loved the idea of the two of them waking up in the tent and wondering what time it was, and then testing their theory with a moon-check. So sweet. And the "we need to be very quiet" gave me both a surge of tenderness for their consideration and a surge of fear for the quiet mayhem they might wreak if I dared to slip back into sleep. I layed there listening to them play for a few minutes, and then our day began. We all had fun. Meridian reported her favorite part to be "roasting the marshmallows" and Cai choose not to tell his favorite part, but I'm guessing it was the tent, since he was volunteering for bedtime from the moment it was set up. Good times. The first of many more to come I'm sure.

02.25.2008

Sometimes you pause and realize how much growth has crept in while your back was turned. Sometime around two years when Meridian started making more complex sentences, I stopped keeping track of language development. Her language development since then been on the kind of steady incline that makes you marvel from time to time and say, "When did you get so big?" Today was such a day, when three times I was surprised by a casual turn of phrase she worked effortlessly into the conversation. The last one I recogized as a repetition of something I say from time to time. The other two are not phrases David or I use. It just makes you realize how much they are paying attention everywhere they are. Today I heard from her:

• quick as a wink
• in a jiffy
• I don't see why that should be a problem.

Of course, with the growth of communication a certain amount of feigned parental naiveté goes out the window. I can't pretend not to understand a situation when she is able to very clearly tell me exactly what she wants. Avoiding the confrontation when our ideas clash used to be as easy as that. Now it requires much more careful thought about and explanation of why I feel a certain way. It produces a kind of parenting exhaustion I've not previously bumped into. Couple that with the constant neediness of my three year old, and we're in an unprecedented phase of parenting. It's a different sort of neediness from the total dependence of a newborn, which while physically draining, at least leaves you in your own mental space for long stretches. And it's a different sort of need from the perpetual exploration of environment at one, for which a constant parental vigilance is required, but during which communication is repetitive and quickly becomes rote. And it is even different from need they have at two to experience the world on their own terms, leaving the parent to run at rapid pace through a list of conceivable causes for new outbursts and just as quickly to provide solutions that cater to the child's desires while maintaining order and safety. No, this new neediness is somehow more complete than any of the earlier phrases. It is total desire for every moment of a parent's attention, both physically and mentally. Multi-tasking must be abandoned, and every ounce of energy must be devoted to my tiny loved one who, even in such a little package, now has the wherewithal to clearly communicate those exact needs.

This morning, we had just such a conversation first thing:

Meridian: Today let's spend all the day together.
Mommy: Yes, let's do that.
Meridian: ALL the day. Every minute. You need to be with me every minute of the day.
Mommy: Hmmm, ...every single minute?
Meridian: Yes. No typing.
Mommy: Okay, I won't type one single minute today.
Meridian: No errands.
Mommy: No errands?
Meridian: No, and no cleaning.
Mommy: Oh man, what will we do?
Meridian: Just all the day BE with me, Mommy. You know, ....playing, reading me books, making up stories, playing, jumping on the bed. That's all.

And that conversation (reeking as it does with the subtext that I generally don't devote enough time to her!) came on the heels of an even more punishing conversation the previous day. It was Sunday, and David was spending the day with Meridian so that I could process some photos I was behind on. They were having a grand old time downstairs, and Meridian came up at one point, stood next to me and began this conversation.

Meridian: I'm bored.
Mommy: How can you be bored? It sounds like you and Papi were having so much fun.
Meridian: I just need you to be with me.
Mommy: Oh Schnookie, Mommy has to work today.
Meridian: I'm just so lonely when you type. Won't you just be with me one little minute, or maybe all the day?
Mommy: You're lonely? Oh, I'm so glad you told me. Let's take a break and go play dress up.

Another such example happened last week. She has for the last several weeks (three maybe?) been revisiting the idea of hitting us when she's angry. Such behavior from a two year old elicits at least a bit of sympathy from me, as I feel for them being so upset and so unable to communicate their feelings. But make no mistake about it, our current bout of hitting has very little to do with an inability to communicate as I learned in this conversation last week in the calm after a hitting incident:

Mommy: Meridian, why do you hit Mommy?
Meridian: Because I am so angry.
Mommy: Do you think we could come with some ideas for what to do when you're angry so that you don't have to hurt me.
Meridian: No.
Mommy: Why not?
Meridian: Because I just want to hit you when I'm angry.
Mommy: Why do you want to hit me? That hurts me.
Meridian: Because I'm angry and I just want you to also be angry.

Language being great, and communication long having been the goal, here I find myself in this situation where she has the exact words necessary to point to any minor failing I have as a parent and to pinpoint the exact negative emotion those failings produce. I'm only mostly joking when I say I might from time to time prefer a frustrated kicking and screaming tantrum to these well-spoken, heartfelt missives that cut to the quick so deftly.

02.22.2008

One of my favorite activities when I was teaching was to have the children publish their stories into a book with a cover and illustrations. With David now writing his second book, and Meridian getting to hear a bit about that, I thought it would be fun to do a bit of book publishing with her.

We made the guts of the book first, stapling together some computer paper and reserving the endpapers and the title page. Then we began with the story. It would be about a bunny, Meridian decided. And the story began. We'd write each page's story, her dictating, me writing. Then she'd draw the pictures to go with it, while I asked questions about bits and pieces of what she was drawing. I drew the bunny on each page at her request. When our story and pictures were done, she colored the end papers ("green to match the forest"), and we started trying to think of a title.

I told her that a title could give an idea about what the story was about, or it could be funny, or it could explain something. We both tossed out ideas: The Bunny, the Person and the Monster; The Magic Treehouse; Afridon and Afridew; The Hole in the Roof, and then Meridian's final revision, How the Hole Got in the Roof. We added the title to the title page, Meridian wrote her name in as the author, and we were both credited as the illustrators. She pointed out that we needed a publisher so that there could be a little picture (the publisher usually has a little icon on the title page that she loves to search for), and so she named her publishing company Sher Publishing and gave them a red apple as an icon.

The cover was made from contact paper and cardboard, and in no time the book was complete. She asked me to read her book to her over and over again, and then she "read" it to me once. She was excited to be an author like Papi. We called him downstairs for a storytime and read the story again. Later that day, I smiled when I saw she'd tucked her book into her bookshelf right alongside all her store-bought books. Fun times.

Here is the entire story:

Once there was a little bunny named Afridon. Then came a person. Her name was Afridew. They were friends.

A small, tiny and ugly, mean monster came stomping through the woods to their house. She had long arms and scary claws. She knocked at the closed pink door.

She opened the door and went through. Her big and mean and ugly Papi monster stomped into the house. Afridon and Afridew ran through the back door into the woods. They spied a tree house with two books in it.

The mean Papi monster was coming out of the back door. Afridon and Afridew were climbing up the rope ladder of the treehouse. When they reached the top, they pull the ladder up!

The treehouse was magic. It flew to the top of the roof. It made a crashing sound and a hole in the roof. Afridon and Afridew went right in and locked the doors with a lock. The monster climbed up the branches. The branches broke.

The monster fell to the ground. He was flat. He never came back. The End.

02.06.2008

On the whiteboard outside of Meridian's classroom yesterday, I saw that in Chapel they'd discussed miracles. Specifically, they explain miracles as something only Jesus can do, and then followed with some examples. I've relaxed some about her exposure to this type of teaching (which doesn't match our own beliefs), but I keep an eye out for what they're learning so that I can help her reseat the material within our own family's philosophy when needed. I don't ask leading questions, and I don't "correct" what she's learning. I mostly listen for how she's interpretting the material and how it makes her feel. So in that way, I asked her on the car ride home what a "miracle" is. She said she didn't know, and she would talk to Papi about it later. This is the conversation that took place when we arrived home:

Meridian: I can walk on water, Papi.
Papi: You can walk on water?
Mommy [misunderstanding the German, and thinking they were discussing going into the pool]: No Honey, you can't do that. It's too cold.
Meridian [indignantly]: I CAN walk on water.
Mommy: Oh! Walk on water. I misunderstood. Did you learn about that in chapel today?
Meridian: Mommy, I really can. I really can walk on water. I can ice-skate.

She doesn't like to be underestimated. She gets offended, for instance, when one of us offers to write something for her: "I know how to write." So I'm thinking her take-away point from the sermon was "I can do that too."

02.02.2008

Babe

I must confess that I knew of Babe from the movie version, and had no idea that it was based in literature. After calling it quits with Mrs. Piggle Wiggle, I was at a bit of a loss for a novel to read to Meridian. At the library I asked for recommendations, based largely on our experience with Charlotte's web, as it was Meridian's favorite from those we'd read. She recommended Babe: The Gallant Pig, which is written by Dick King-Smith. Knowing the movie, I thought it would be right up our alley, and we jumped into it full-force.

Babe is a great character, and even reading it on the heels of Charlotte's Web, the book immediately stands on it's own and speaks for itself. Babe tackles prejudice, on a quest to prove that a pig can do what a pig sets its mind to, and needn't be limited by the small ideas of others or by convention. To call it a quest is somewhat overstepping because the beauty of Babe's character is that he just does what feels right to him. I love that his actions are outgrowths of his own innate feelings of fairness and justice. In addition, Babe tackles the oppression which is so often mated with prejudice. He quietly and consistently acts in the way that best matches what his conscience tells him, treating the sheep kindly and with respect, despite having to act against the guidance of the sheepdog (his adopted mom). I love both messages: "Do what you feel is right" and "Kindness and respect can prevail over controlling tactics." It's a great book, and one that we are very likely to revisit later.

That said, it wasn't really appropriate for us at this time. Meridian hasn't really been exposed to prejudice in a way that would make it recognizable to her, and as such she had difficulty empathizing with the story. She's young yet, and oppression is a heady topic at any age, but not one she's capable of understanding at this point. Nor did I want to do much to educate her on the point. There will be plenty of time for that as she ages and discovers the world, no need to jump into the deep end. Message aside, the book included some language I'm not anxious to introduce into her vocabulary as well. Imagine explaining to her teacher that she only means "bitch" in it's literal original context: female dog. Also, she hasn't yet really latched on to the word stupid in the way that kids tend to, and it's a word that comes up with regularity, so we definitely had some editing to do while we read. When Meridian asked about 2/3 of the way through the book if we could just return it to the library without finishing it, I agreed that that might be a good idea.

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

This time during our trip to the library, I was better able to communicate exactly what we wanted and what we wanted to avoid in the books we were looking for. I said that Meridian had so far been very amused with animal adventure stories, but that as she was so young, we needed to make sure that the themes covered would be suitable to her age. In this way, we came up with a short list of books to read, from which we selected Beverly Cleary's The Mouse and the Motorcycle, and for the first time since Charlotte and Pooh, Meridian was entirely enthralled in the story.

Mouse's adventures are the sort that a child Meridian's age can conceive of: riding a toy motorcycle, avoiding the vaccuum, being brave enough to going downstairs all by yourself despite the dangers. Those dangers to Ralph the mouse include being spotted by the housekeeper, being chased by the dog lodging in room 215, etc. To Meridian those dangers include conquering fear of her imaginary bear or the monster in the hallway. She could relate to him through and through, and the message I would say she took away from it rang true for her: Don't underestimate me just because I'm small.

There were many more big messages tucked in there in small ways. It's not a book that I'd say has a moral agenda, or a specific message to teach, but it visits themes we all face and deals with them in a real way through daily encounters. For instance, readers can experience how sharing helps a friendship grow, as the story grows out of the boy's decision to share his motorcycle with Ralph and their friendship is born. Cleary gets her young readers thinking about trust when her young mouse is surprised that the boy is willing to let him use such a prized possession and later even makes good on his promise to bring him food. She presents the opportunity to explore selflessness when Ralph takes great risks to help his friend get better during an illness. This book is high on Meridian's list, though Charlotte is still the book to beat. We look forward to reading both sequels in the weeks to come.

01.28.2008

Sometimes the things kids do just make you laugh for no reason at all, other than wonder at where the idea even came from. Tonight while I was making dinner, Meridian had a little running commentary going on along-side me. She wasn't talking to me at all, just to herself, though she was participating in what I was doing. She had a sheet of paper, and was just prattling on and on in this falsely deep voice:

Okay, now this is my recipe. It's called a recipe because it tells you what to do. First get the rice. Then the water. Put it in the pot - no wait, mommy did that already. Okay, put in the butter. Yih! It's in there already too. Okay, the recipe says 'Let the daughter' [and she pauses to correct herself], "if you have a daughter, let the daughter put the rice in using these spatulas."

And so it continued, long after the rice was already cooking. In the next room I could hear her announcing each thing she was about to do, but couched in the context of her recipe.

And now the recipe says, put away the dollhouse picnic because lunch time is over. Go to the stairs and listen for Papi - if you have a Papi. If you have a Daddy, then listen for him. Okay, did that. Then go up the stairs and see what your Papi - or maybe your Daddy - is doing.

01.27.2008

Meridian has long enjoyed the Letters From Felix, a clever book about a rabbit that travels around the world, sending his little owner letters from all of the places he visits. It's a great book for so many reasons, but my favorite reasons to like it are 1) the novelty of opening each letter from within the envelopes that are glued into the book, 2) the way that the author really takes advantage of the opportunity to include teaching points (geography, history, culture, etc.), and 3) the fact that Sophie's family is such a good model, always building on Felix's experience with fun projects. When I look at the pictures in the Sophie book, I look nostalgically into the future to a time when we will be just such a family, building complex projects to enhance Meridian's learning experiences. Recently David decided to order the next Felix book in German, so Neue Briefe von Felix: Ein kleiner Hase reist durch die Vergangenheit (New Letters from Felix: A Little Rabbit Travels Through the Past) arrived not so very long ago, and Meridian is enraptured.

Felix travels (by way of paintings in a museum) through the ancient civilizations of Greek philosophers, American Indians, the Vikings, etc. The idea of different periods of history is starting to make some sense to her, as we explore different times through the Felix book and the Magic Treehouse series (more on that later.)

Meridian asked me on Tuesday whether we could build a boat like the one in the new Felix book. I thought that was a great idea, and we set off to gather materials: popsicle sticks, straws, a paper bag for the mast. As soon as she understood my intentions, Meridian got all filled up with panic and said that she needed to be able to sit in the boat. I hemmed and hawed, trying to think how I was going to make a boat big enough for her to sit in, and then said we could make one from cardboard. Again, she was nearly frantic. I could tell she was on the doorstep of a major meltdown. Then she stopped herself, took a deep breath, and said "Mommy, it's very important to me that it be made out of wood and nails."

My turn to take a deep breath. A million reasons to say no jumped immediately into my head, and I was quiet while trying to figure out which of them to use. The problem with that: "It's really important to me..." is the language we've given her to substitute for a tantrum when she's feeling disappointed that we've said no to something. So, when she uses it, we try to honor the fact that she chose not to throw a tantrum, and that it is very important to her. But, how was I going to build a boat out of wood, big enough for her to sit in?! "Buy time," I thought to myself. Still torn between honoring her request and giving one of my reasons for saying no, I told her we could look around for materials and see if we had what we needed. I fully expected that we would not, and she would see the logic behind being unable as opposed to unwilling to build a Viking boat.

Except, that we found an 8ft 2x4 in the yard, and a 4sqft piece of plyboard in the shed, and a 2ft by 4ft piece of pressboard in the garage. So, ...there we were: me having to see the logic of being perfectly able to build a boat unless I was unwilling. I thought of our unusually warm 60º temperature that day; I thought of the family in the Felix book; I thought of the earnestness in Meridian's request. "Be that family, Dawn," whispered itself to me. And so we began construction, and just today hoisted the sail.

Oh, and a pic of the boat that inspired it all! To see more of the construction process, check out the 3½yr photo gallery.

01.19.2008

We were at the library reading a book the on Wednesday, and the characters were roasting hot dogs on sticks in their fireplace. I pointed out how wacky that was, kinda like going camping inside your own house. She immediately loved the idea and pointed out that we could set our tent up inside out family room, and roast marshmallows.

When I agreed that it seemed like a good idea, it was as if I'd told her we were going to Disney World. She was so excited. Well, she and David had their pigs' feet planned for that night, and I'd already made plans. So I told her we couldn't do it that night, but we could do it the next night. Thursday morning, she woke up already asking to set the tent up. I didn't know how she was going to make it through the whole day.

Finally, finally! Nighttime rolled around, and we got the tent pitched, and the hotdogs and marshmallows ready for roasting, the chocolate bars and graham crackers ready, and the salad made. Everything was ready. We sat around the hearth roasting out hotdogs and eating our dinner, the conversation peppered every ten seconds or so with a question about whether it was YET time to roast the marshmallows. Finally the time came! Smores, even while it rains outside - this was a truly fantastic idea! Pics in the 3½ Year Gallery.

Sleeping in the tent had its pros and cons. CON: Meridian didn't fall asleep until about 10pm. PRO: David and I also fell asleep then. We're night-owls, and rarely in bed before midnight. CON: It wasn't so very comfy, even with a crib mattress and couch cusions beneath our sleeping bags. PRO: Meridian totally thought we were the coolest parents to ever have lived.

01.18.2008

I wandered into Meridian's room to help her pick up her things. I came across her doll-house people all of whom had little foam squares taped to their heads. Amused, I asked Meridian what they were wearing. She said, "Those are their go-invisible hats. That makes the aliens not able to see them."

I think she just invented the tinfoil hat.

01.17.2008

At some point during a shopping trip with with David , Meridian took notice of pig's feet. She asked what they were, and David explained that they were pig's feet. She was confused about that, and David explained that all of the meats in the butcher section of the grocery store were different parts of the bodies of different animals, and that pig's feet are interesting because they still look like feet even when they are packaged up and ready to eat. That satiated her curiosity on that day. During another trip, passing by the meat section brought them back into her memory, and she asked if people ate them. David answered that some people do, and she wanted to know if she could. As it happened they were sold out. She forgot about it for a time, and that was that.

Until earlier this week, when she and I were shopping together. As we walked back to the butcher, she said "Will you check if they have pig's feet?" I successfully masked my dry-heave, and said that I would check. Of course, this time - on my turn - they DID have them. So, telling myself that it was my good-mama duty to buy them, I managed to select some and get them into the cart without betraying my disgust. And so it happened that Meridian and David had a date-night last night while I had a mom's night out.

When I came home, Meridian was in bed for the night, and David told me about the evening. Apparently, she loved the pig's feet, and kept asking for more and saying "YUM" after each bite of meat, and selectively leaving the potatoes and lentils behind. They played Scrabble while they ate, which consisted of Meridian choosing her own words, carefully gaurding her tiles so that Papi wouldn't see them. Her words were things like "glububek" (which is completely valid because it is alien-language), spelled c-i-l-r-e-i, or whatever combination of letters she happened to have. After about three turns, she announced she'd won. David chuckled to himself and tolerated it. We'd just introduced Scrabble the night before and we haven't quite decided how to teach her to play.

After dinner, they went for a walk, and Meridian hugged David repeatedly and kept saying she loved him. David and I speculated over whether my absence from the house gave her the freedom to be affectionate and emotionally open with him. Though he spends plenty of one-on-one time with her, it is most frequently while I am elsewhere in the house. I wonder whether her earlier comments about not loving her Papi were partly an outgrowth of not wanting to betray her loyalty to me. We plan to explore this idea further.

Their date night ended with the usual bedtime routine, culminating in a cuddle in bed and a chapter in whichever book we're reading. It happens that David is currently reading her a German translation of Charlotte's Web. I can't quite digest the combination of pig's feet and championing for Wilbur all in one night, but somehow they made that work.

01.11.2008

Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle

This series by Betty MacDonald is one I remember reading and really enjoying as a child. I remember finding them funny and clever, if unorthodox. They were already on our bookshelf because my brother bought them for a gift for me one year. When we finished Stuart Little, Meridian asked to read "the purple one", so I pulled it down to show to her, and she decided "Yes, this one." Ultimately, I stopped reading these in the middle of the first book (we have the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle Treasury, which includes Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's Magic, and Hello, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle).

Meridian was very much enjoying the stories, but I was uncomfortable with a good portion of the story telling. In a nutshell, each chapter follows this formula: a parent is distressed because of a particular behavior her child exhibits. In an effort to figure out how to handle the problem, she calls a number of other mothers, each of whom reports that their saintly child would never do such a horrible thing (as say refuse to take a bath or neglect to put her toys away). Finally, the mother gets the idea to call Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, who has no children but loves them and seems to have a way with them.

Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle comes up with some clever fantastical trick to lead the child to decide for himself that she would like to comply with the rule. The problem for me arises mainly out of the time the book was written in, and the accepted ideas of parenting at that time. The book is peppered with parents calling their children selfish and greedy (among other undesirable names), threatening spankings, etc. The fathers are always too busy with work to be involved in creating a solution. And the poor behavior is laid out as part of the story. I found myself editing too much to be worth it, and slipping up and forgetting to edit - which resulted in questions I'm not quite ready to answer. One such conversation went like this:

Mommy: "Her father looked as though he might be going to give her a spanking, but then he noticed it was time for the news."
Meridian: What's a spanking?
Mommy: [pausing to consider how to explain this] Some parents think that when children don't do what they are asked to, it's a good idea to hit them. Usually they are hit on their bottoms, and that is called a spanking.
Meridian: [silent, wide-eyed] Why, Mommy?
Mommy: Well, different people have different preferences and different ways of doing things. We don't think hitting children (or any people) is a good idea, so we don't do that. But other people do.
Meridian: But why?
Mommy: Well, I think some mommies and daddies get frustrated when their children won't do the things they've been asked to do, and they don't have any ideas so they tell the children to do it or they will get spanked. Lots of times children don't want to be spanked so they decide to do the think their parents are asking them to do.
Meridian: I don't want to be spanked either.
Mommy: No, mommy and Papi don't think spanking is a good idea. We know that you are a smart little girl and that we can use words to explain why we want you to do something. And if you make a different decision, and we get frustrated, we find another way to handle it. In our family, it's okay to be frustrated, but not okay to hit.

This was difficult territory to navigate because I'm not at a place where I want her to feel that we think we are superior to other inferior parents. I don't want to be at a friend's house, have her see a parental behavior we've chosen not to use, and call the parent out on it. It was much easier to simply avoid this book for now. Another reason I decided to stop reading them is because for whatever reason, Meridian is generally not a defiant child. I didn't like the idea of reading her a book in which every chapter featured a defiant, poorly-behaved child. The books seem to set up problems as parents versus children, where in out home we approach problems as family versus problem. In short, I didn't want her exposure to these ideas through the book to cause a change in the way things currently work in our home.

For all their faults, I do have to say that I like the books. They are clever and funny and unorthodox. I imagine she'll have fun reading them on her own when she's quite a bit older, and able appreciate the humor. For now, they're not even close to being age-appropriate material.

01.10.2007

Dreamland is a special imaginary place that my niece Kaitlynn and I created before Meridian was born. While putting her to sleep, I would take her on a guided visualization through the many wonders she'd she in dreamland that night, painting the visual picture so that she could continue the fantasy on her own when we left her room. This was a special Aunt Dawn and Kaitlynn activity, and she anticipated it at my house. When we began formalizing Meridian's bedtime routine, dreamland wasn't a part of it. Since she generally fell asleep nursing, it just naturally didn't incorporate itself into our routine. However, after noting that I do this with Kaitlynn when she's here (and with her on those nights too), she began requesting to go to dreamland at night. So, for a time, I followed that same protocol: constructing a picture of pure fantasy for her to continue after I left.

In the last several weeks though a subtle change has happened so that we almost didn't notice it. Meridian began telling us where she was going in dreamland. Tonight for instance, she told David, "Tonight in Dreamland, I'm going to have a swimming pool full of tapioca pudding. Then when I swim in it, I will put my tongue out and lick my lips." We love her imagination and her whimsy.

01.10.2008

Charlotte's Web

Charlotte's Web was the second novel we read, and we selected it for two reasons. First, it was already on our bookshelf, and second, an area park was planning to host the live-action movie, projected outside for a picnic-under-the-stars movie experience. I thought the second sounded really fun, and having seen the live action version with David when it was out in theaters, I thought Meridian would really enjoy it.

It was a bit of a gamble starting this one primarily because it tackles the concept of death, and a young three might not handle that well. But, knowing her as I do, I decided to try it on, and see how she responded. I decided that I'm not opposed to altering the story if I felt it necessary. Though I'm generally opposed to censorship, I feel this is fine, as I do not intend to keep ideas from here, merely gauge when she is ready for them. Regarding death, I felt that to some extent she had already been exposed to insect death, and that animal death is a natural extention of that idea. So, after noting the possible red-flags this novel brought with it, we began reading.

Meridian fell in love with this story. She considers it Fern's story, which I find interesting. The novel begin's with Fern, and she is Wilbur's first advocate. I think Meridian liked the idea of a pig all wrapped up in a baby blanket, in a doll's carriage, drinking milk from a bottle. I think she liked to experience being a caregiver vicariously through Fern. I saw confusion and shock flash across her face during the early scene when Fern rescued Wilbur from an early death. I think to some extent, Fern won Meridian's devotion in that early scene. Like Fern, the idea that this baby pig should be killed because it was small, was not only foreign but definitely wrong. It was neat to see her draw that conclusion, and empathize with a character on the basis of emotion and moral righteousness. In that passage, I knew we'd done right to select this book, and that it gave her the gift of literature in a way that the Pooh series hadn't. It gave her books as a vehicle for examining ideas and drawing conclusions, as a means of experiencing difficult situations without actually having to live them.

Meridian very much enjoyed the antics of Charlotte and Wilbur, and Templeton. She was a quiet listener, so that often times I wondered if she was fully engaged, and was surprised to find upon questioning that she was definitely fully with me. I was surprised by how well she kept with the story, not growing bored when we covered long passages about the wind blowing through the trees and the seasons changing on the the farm. I'd have predicted that she would need the clever antics to keep her interest up, but she was a rapt audience for the entirety of the book.

In the end, we took Charlotte's death on headlong, not editing or softening the blow. I felt the whole book had prepared for it, and to leave it out or soften it in the end would have made the preparation excessive. White was very wise in his handling of the story. It is very much an introduction to the idea of death, and he puts out early the idea that Wilbur may die, an idea his audience is not equipped to handle. Still, he prepares the audience for it, never lying. Never promising that it won't become a reality, presenting hope alongside the reality of death, and leaving the reader to know that those are what we have: the certainty of ultimate death, and hope in the face of it. And I love that he didn't chicken out. He didn't give us Wilbur, the victor over death and a means to avoid dealing with death as a certainty. He gave us Wilbur, saved from the slaughterhouse and free to live as full a life as any of us. And he gave us Charlotte, whose complete life came to it's natural end in this book. In doing so, he asks the reader to explore the idea of death and of the life-cycle, without giving them a free-pass. He is honest about it, and I respect that. He recognized that children weren't ready to say good-bye to Wilbur, and most especially not at the hand of humans and not by choice, but that he had prepared them for the idea of death and a natural death could be more easily accepted and understood. And so, Charlotte dies, and Wilbur lives to die another day, and Meridian begins to explore this idea and to decide for herself what it means to have a life.

Lots of questions accompanied this book, and followed it. Why do the people want to kill Wilbur? Why do we eat animals? Why does Charlotte not want Wilbur to die? Why did the farmer decide not to kill Wilbur? Why did Charlotte die? Do people also die? Will I die? Will you die when I die? What will happen after I die? When will I die? When will you die? Are Charlotte's babies sad because they don't have a mommy? And so on. And they are all important questions and I thank EB White for giving them to Meridian and allowing us to experience them together.

Stuart Little

Having enjoyed Charlotte's Web so much, we decided to jump right into White's Staurt Little next. This book, while not bad at all, simply wasn't as interesting or compelling to either of us. I can't really explain why his exploits didn't engage us or make us eager to continue the story, but that's the case. Partly for Meridian I think that the way Staurt was illustrated didn't jive very well with her idea of an adventure seeking mouse. Partly, I think the idea of scale was beyond her.

For whatever reason, we found Staurt Little somewhat boring. We did finish it because it was such a short book and I kept encouraging her to push through, but she'd have gladly given it up a few chapters in. And I've decided that for future books, if the interest isn't there, that's just what we'll do.

01.01.2008

Meridian has this incredible attention span for age and a thirst for story. We began reading novels shortly before she turned three, beginning with the original Winnie the Pooh series. I've decided to start this new section of her website to chronicles the books we read and how she responds to them, partly to give us a history and timeline, and partly to serve as a resource for other parents. I find that because of Meridian's age, choosing the right material can present it's own challenges. Though she'll sit for long periods of time, the material and how it's presented in many of the early chapter books is just not appropriate for her at this age. Here I'll be able to review each book we read, giving insight into the appropriateness of the material for a young audience as well as gauging interest. I'll start with the books we've already read, and continue to add to this as we continue reading.

Winnie-the-Pooh

We read Winnie-the-Pooh, The House at Pooh Corner, When We Were Very Young and Now We Are Six by A.A. Milne in this collected volume, moving from one book right into the next until we'd completed the entire volume. This was a great beginning for us because it is a glossy-paged, color illustrated version. Moving into novels from picture books is a transition, so having pictures in full color was still very much expected by Meridian when we started reading this at just shy of three years old. The edition is something of a monster, a heavy lap book, but it was well-suited for bed-time. Well, with the exception of the extremely long chapters - you'll definitely need to start the bedtime routine early. But another thing that makes this book an ideal transition book is the fact that each chapter is a self-contained story. You can read any of the chapters in any order without upsetting the plotline of the novel. This is good because Meridian was accustomed to picturebook length stories that move through a plotline in a relatively short period of time. This way you can read a story as a chapter, but still have the continuation of the larger work to introduce the idea of reading longer works of fiction.

The material was the perfect transition into novels in it's fantastical tour of the imagination through the eyes of stuffed animals come to life. At this time I don't think Meridian really got the concept that these were all just imaginary stories going on in the head of Christopher Robin as he played with his toys. To her Tigger, Pooh, Piglet and friends were almost more real than Christopher Robin who comes and goes from time to time. It's neat to think that when she rereads these stories in a few years, she'll discover a whole new layer. I don't think we could have found a better match for the level of suspense needed than we did. Though we're now reading books that are far more suspenseful than these are, it was perfect to start out with these gentle stories which so expertly navigate young readers through the concept of emotional characters. At almost three, Meridian was just beginning to really explore emotion and give name to it. Seeing it in characters on the page could have been overwhelming, but Milne doesn't over-do it. He really understands that what constitutes catastrophe to young readers need only be something as small as a balloon popping prematurely. In fact, the only edit I did in the entire course of reading the book was to eliminate the part where Christopher Robin used a gun to pop a balloon. We don't do guns as toys, and it was easy enough for me to have him throw a rock. But now, so many months after completing these and so many books later, I can say what value there is in having a book you can just read from the page without having to worry about acquisition of inappropriate language or attitudes.

Reviews of the other books we've read to come in the next few days, along with what we're currently reading.

12.31.2007

Over dinner tonight, we discussed discussed our favorite things from the year. (Meridian's: marshmallows while camping, visiting Grandmommy, going to preschool.) Then we discussed what things we did that weren't very nice, or where we didn't try our best. I explained that we each get to make a New Year's Resolution to try harder on that thing next year. To demonstrate I made an entire family resolution: KEEP OUR HOUSE CLEAN! Then I went on to make my own resolution: be nicer to David. Try to consider his side of things. Don't speak sharply to him. I asked David what his resolution would be, and he said to make a better effort spend the evenings and the weekends doing things together as a family. Then I asked Meridian what her resolution should be. She thought for a long moment, and said nothing.

I asked if she had any ideas, and she said no. So, I said that maybe she and I should both have the same resolution: be nicer to Papi. I asked if she sometimes spoke sharply to Papi or said mean things to him. And she said "Yes, I'll have that same resolution as you." Then we sat quietly for a few moments, before she changed her mind, with excitement. "No, I think my resolution should be that everyone of us in our family eats so much candy every day!" I had to explain the difference between resolution and pipe dream. LOL.

She's in bed and David and I are having our own little celebration at home tonight. We hope you have a safe and happy celebration. Happy New Year!

12.30.2007

Our poor child is in deperate need of a pet. For Christmas, David bought me a Scooba (floor-washing robot, which I LOVE!), which I affectionately named Mr. Belvedere. We were all excited to see him in action, so we shoved the dining room furniture into the piano room, and set him in the middle of the dining room to do his thing. Meridian and David craled underneath the dining room table and watched from there. Meridian was so enchanted with it. She would get so excited if he turned in her direction at all, and when he got close, she'd stretch out trying to reach him. When he finally got close enough for her to actually reach, she stroked him lovingly. As he drove away, she turned to David, giddy with excitement. And then the whole process would begin afresh. It takes the robot 45 minutes to clean the entire floor, going over it several times. Meridian actually stayed with David under that table for the entire 45 minutes watching it's progress and hoping for a few moments to pet it. I think we made out. We got a pet that not only doesn't make a mess, but actually cleans 'em!

12.28.2007

As I went through the holiday photos and selecting what to upload here, I realized that I forgot to mention her pre-school Christmas concert. Not so very long ago, she had two such concerts to mark the end of each summer camp session. You'll remember that during each of them, she stood with her class looking tortured, and viewing the audience through the eyelashes of her well-practiced scowl. Public performance is not something she gravitates toward. I didn't expect anything different from thsi Christmas performance, and even briefly considered the notion of keeping her home - why put her through that? But I ultimately decided it might be one of those things that becomes more comfortable as the she gets more acquainted with the format.

Well, her class filed out on stage, right in front. She didn't spot me immediately. The music started though, and she sang. She SANG. I was so excited! At one point, she thought she spotted me and waved to some other mommy in the audience. When she really did spot me a few minutes later, she kept darting her eyes back to that other mommy as if to say "You're NOT my mommy; why did you wave at me?" Then she'd blow me kisses and wave at me. It was so sweet. She latched on to the microphone stand, which must have been the closest thing to a leg to hide behind. It was cute because it really separated her from her class and totally looked like she was moving in for her solo. I was just really so proud of her.

David was unable to attend, so we put his little voice recorder on her as a necklace and set it to record the performance. Luckily, my girlfriend Marisa brought her video camera and with Meridian and Cai standing side by side, David was able to watch her whole performance. If we figure out how to get the video moved over to our computer, we'll add a little clip to the video gallery, but Dave was unable when he tried the first time.

12.27.2007

We're still in our PJs as I type this, late in the evening two days after Christmas. OK, for me the PJs themselves have changed once, and for Meridian there has been intermittant periods in nothing more than undies. But by and large, we've been clad in PJs since we all three put them on Christmas Eve while Meridian was getting into bed. A tradition from my childhood that we've carried forward is a gift unwrapped on Christmas Eve, and it's always PJs. It's been great to have these last three days all to ourselves - with no agenda, no to do list, and no expectations to meet. Play, nap, eat, enjoy.

Christmas morning was idyllic. Meridian came to our bed to wake us up with such excitement, so anticipating the act of verifying that Santa had come. She was met downstairs by Santa's gift, all set up on the hearth: a rocketship, lower hatch opened, a small space car having rolled down, astronauts exploring the terrain, an alien inside a volcanic land-mass. She looked at it for a few moments, and asked why Santa hadn't wrapped her present, why it was on the hearth. Not disappointed, but ...mystified. We hadn't really made a decision as to whether or not Santa should wrap presents or not. Some families do, others don't, and we didn't feel strongly either way. Last year's choice was easy: doll house = big bow. When we found ourselves with no wrapping paper Christmas Eve after the PJ ritual had taken place, we made the decision: no paper. Fast on my feet, I planted the idea that Santa must have liked this toy so much that he wanted to rest a while and play with it while he ate his fudge and drank his milk. The tiniest hint of a smile played on her cheek before she was able to hide it.

When she popped open the middle ehatch and found the other gift she'd asked Santa for (the one that had necessitated a last-minute letter to the North Pole), she stopped trying to maintain composure and lost herself in the joy of play. Inside the sencond hatch, resting on the astronaut's fol-down bed was a tiny little doll-house baby, exactly like the one Santa had put in her dollhouse last year, but which has since been lost.

And so we played various space games for a time, and then she became interested in the presents beneath the tree. We'd open one and play with it until the interest in the tree renewed itself, and so it was that we opened presents from 7am until 1pm. David and I wanted to avoid a frenzied tearing-through of gifts, and so we limited our gifts for her to five. This became somewhat irrelevant as the packages from loved ones began rolling in, and there were more presents under the tree for her than I dared count. I was glad that despite this, she didn't really engage in a frenzied mission to bare all, but took her time enjoying each present as she went. Well, okay, not so much when it was a present for me or for David which must have seemed so very boring and tedious compared with rollerskates and puppets.

My favorite part of the last three days has been watching her rediscover her gifts. She'll play with something for an hour or so, then catch a glipse of another new toy, and her original joy at the sight of it washes over her afresh.

12.25.2007

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Holiday greetings to all of you. We hope you've received our card by now, but in case you haven't (they went out late this year), here's a sneak peek. I should also mention that we lost our computerized address book this year, and had to build our Christmas list from toothpicks and bubble gum. As a result, far fewer cards were mailed than usual. If you didn't receive a card from us, but want to (or want to be included in next year's mailing at any rate) please email your mailing information to dawnstiller at cox dot net. If you'd like to read this year's Christmas letter, click here.

Click picture to enlarge.

12.21.2007

So, at playdate yesterday, I told the story about Meridian's insight into the grinch. I bragged proudly (this is a very close-knit playgroup; bragging is allowed and expected from time to time) that Meridian is an "emotional genius". Yes, those are the words I used. And yes, today I ate them.

Today's advent activity: choose a child from the Angel Tree and select warm clothes and a fun toy for a child whose parents are unable to buy for him. Meridian's reaction: "I am not doing it!" I tried everything to ellicit empathy, but she dug her heels in deeper. At one point, she actually said to me, "I don't have ANY love in my heart!" Boy, was I getting angry. I had to verbally tell myself to LET IT GO. She's three. Empathy is not a typical trait three year olds have. LET IT GO.

But boy, was that hard for me. And actually, I don't think I even succeeded. I did in fact drag her to the store, and we did do the activity. Not quite against her will, because once we got started and she got involved in selecting the card and choosing the gifts, she participated willingly. But still I can't say I succeeded in letting it go, because I know that if she'd pitched a fit, I'd have forged ahead with the activity determined to force empathy upon her. Yes, I relize how ridiculous that sounds. Apparently neither one of us is an emotional genius.

12.20.2007

I sat on the floor in the family room wrapping gifts. Meridian was helping until she lost interest, and went and got a few ornaments from the tree to play act with. So, they're talking back and forth to each other, going on adventures and so forth. I'm there, and listening, but she's unaware of me. She wanders over to the tree, and muses to herself, "Christmas is about love, ...and I love ..." She pauses to consider, then fill in the blank with conviction, "...candy."

12.18.2007

My FTP software has been acting up, and I haven't been able to upload updates for the past several days. I finally figured out a work around, and will be back later with today's entry.

12.17.2007

The Grinch night was perfect. Meridian enjoyed every aspect of it, from listening to the popcorn pop to acting out the story when it was complete. We started by snuggling up and reading the book one more time.

Meridian interrupted the story twice to interject insights so big that they totally melted me and made me love her more than ever. First, on the page where the narraror goes over the variety of reasons the Grinch hates Christmas (shoes too tight, head not screwed on just right, heart too small...), Meridian interjected, "He's just lonely." It's not possible to descibe how much I loved or respected her in that moment. Here to a question that most adults would answer with some variation of "He's just a meanie", my insightful, soulful, empathetic three-year-old gets at the very heart of why the Grinch feels the way he does and what motivates him to act as he does.

I read on, bursting with pride, and came to the page where the Grinch ponders that "Perhaps Christmas means a little bit more." Perhaps because I was so moved by her earlier insight, I paused and asked Meridian, "What does Christmas really mean?" Her answer was simple, and so true, and unscripted, and completely perfect in every way: Love.

We put the movie in, snuggled up, and watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas, the story fresh in our minds. I think David and I spent about 50% of the time watching Meridian watch the movie. The rest of the time, we really enjoyed the marriage of Dr. Suess's whimsy and Chuck Jones' classic antics. After the movie was over, we chatted about it for a while:

What was the funniest part?
 
Meridian: When the wreaths cover over Max the Dog and only his eyes peek out.
Papi: At the feast where a little waiter comes out of the big waiter's serving platter, over and over.
Mommy: When the carpet lands on Max the Dog and then it looks like the carpet is walking.
 
 
What was the scariest part?
 
Meridian: When the sleigh almost tipped over the mountain.
Papi: The mean grin that he gets when he gets his "wonderful, awful idea".
Mommy: When the Grinch whipped the dog with the whip.
 
 
What was your favorite part?
 
Meridian: When Cindy Lou Who asks for a cup of water.
Papi: When Cindy Lou Who gave the first piece of roast beast to Max the Dog.
Mommy: The part when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes.

After our chat, Meridian assigned us all roles and we acted out various parts over and over, taking turns playing the different roles. The very last pretend for the night, was me pretending to be the grinch and tucking Cindy Lou Who (aka Meridian) into bed, giving her her water, and sneaking in a kiss. And she fell asleep as Cindy Lou Who.

12.16.2007

Tonight is movie night on our advent calendar. This is a big step, as we don't watch television and Meridian doesn't watch movies. She has seen parts of shows at other people's houses here and there, and has been to one movie-night at a friend's house where they watched a 30 minute Winnie-the-Pooh episode. In thinking through our advent activities for the year, we decided to introduce one of the Christmas specials, and we set out previewing all of them to see which one we thought most appropriate.

My original thought had been "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" because Meridian loves the book. The only problem that came to mind was that the book uses the word hate several times. When I read the book, I edit that out. It's not a word I like, and I think we tend to use it too liberally. And then, thinking about the other Christmas specials out there, I began to wonder if there wasn't one that wasn't so focused on the negative. And thus, the previews began. We have all the old specials on DVD, so that made previewing easy.

We began with Santa Claus is Coming to Town, which certainly sounded promising. I vetoed that in the first fifteen minutes when the baby Santa Claus was abandoned on the doorsteps of the mayor, who called him a brat and said to send him to the orphanage. Hmmmm, ....am I ready to have a discussion on why some parents don't keep their children, and why some people are willig to let them grow up in orphanages. Nope. We finished watching the movie, and I noted that I would have vetoed it in any case because of the very scary Winter Wizard.

Next up: Frosty the Snowman. I thought this would be a sure winner: happy old frosty, a tale of magic, etc. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Though the telling was gentler than the previous movie, I found the values objectionable. First off, the children virtually steal the magic hat from the magician. Yes, the magician is a mild meanie, but no that does not entitle the children to help themselves to his property. Maybe I could overlook this, and explain that the children shouldn't have taken his hat, but every authority figure and role model from the police-man right down to Santa Claus sides with the children and treat the magician as though he has no right to the hat. I didn't think this was a good message for a three-year old, whose inner reactions already follow that same logic: I want it, I should have it; I want it, it's mine. So, ultimately this movie was vetoed for a clash in values.

If there was any lingering hope in my mind that I might be able to talk my way into selecting this movie, it was squelched when Santa Claus threatened the magician into compliance by saying if he didn't cooperate, Santa wouldn't visit him for Christmas. We are not choosing to incorporate the naughty or nice part of Santa Claus into our celebration of Christmas. I don't like the mechanics of it: I want her to want to be good because it is the right thing to do, not because she's afraid she won't be rewarded. And I don't like the psychology of it: you must behave to be worthy. Only good children get rewards. Well, why start her down that path, set her up to ask a question that can so tear at the soul: Am I good enough? And lastly, I don't like it because it isn't true. Parents make this threat, but I've never known a single parent to follow through (thankfully). So, when Santa gave Frosty's villian the ultimatum, it was game over for me.

The Little Drummer Boy was a consideration because she love the book version we have of this story. We've introduced the story of Jesus to her this year as we've learned about the different ways people celebrate during the winter. She knows that some people who celebrate Christmas are celebrating this new baby being born, and that they believe he is a king and God's son. This story would give her the opportunity to experience that story in a different way. But I knew it was not to be when during the opening scene, the drummer boy is kidnapped. Followed several scenes later by his parents being stabbed to death. Next!

I was trepidatious about Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer before we previewed it. I remembered as a child being saddened by the way the other reindeer treated Rudolph, and being somewhat disturbed by the idea of misfit toys. A few days before watching, our friend Millie watched it, and never wants to see it again because the Abominable Snow Monster was too scary. Nevertheless, we decided to preview it and make our own judgement. Ironically, all the issues I had pre-movie were quelled by the watching. The reindeer are mean to Rudolph, but I think watching with parents to help digest the material and rejct their behavior could be just fine. The misfit toys portion was handled well. Even the Abominable Snow Monster I thought would go over with Meridian okay. She is much less affected by the concept of scary monster than she is by the idea of mean people. Which brings us to the lead elf, who speaks very sharply and meanly. This is the part I think Meridian would find the most troubling. And though I don't find it objectionable, per se, I also don't think it would be enjoyable for her. I was also a little miffed to see that Santa Claus participates to some degree in the mocking of Rudolph. This was an easy one for me to eliminate, despite it's value-teaching opportunities.

Which brought us full circle back to the Grinch. I may as well preview it, as I had the others. And it is ironically, in this - the meanest-seeming Christmas special - that I found what I was looking for. I had to overcome my aversion to the word "hate", but once that was behind me, I was really able to embrace this movie as the movie for us. Several weeks ago, Meridian heard me use the word "hate" carelessly (I "hate" traffic). Of course, she perked right up, singled out the word and asked what it meant. I told her that I shouldn't have used it, that it wasn't a nice word, and that it didn't accurately describe how I was feeling. Not deterred, she pressed on, "But what does it mean?" And this is the on-the-fly definition I gave her: hate means to dislike someone (or something) so much that you want to hurt him or her. We sometimes don't like people/things, but we don't want to hurt them, so it's not true to say we hate them.

And it is that definition that ultimately saved How the Grinch Stole Christmas for me. I could explain that the Grinch did dislike the Whos so much that he wanted to hurt them, and that he was trying to hurt them when he took their Christmas away. And best of all, the Grinch redeems himself in the end. So it plays out actually very much the way life has for her: experiment with something bad, learn why we think it's wrong, and then decide for herself that it is wrong. Perfect. So, it will be popcorn, a warm blanket, and a snuggle up with Mommy and Papi tonight to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

12.15.2007

Making due without snow in sunny Virginia Beach. The weather has just been all over the place. One day in the 40s, the next day in the high 70's. Yesterday we had sunny 60º weather, and our advent calendar said, "Head to the beach, but don't build a sand castle. Build a SNOWMAN!"

Even the preparation for this one was fun, as we searched the craftroom for suitable items to be used as eyes, nose, mouth, and buttons, then scoured the backyard for the perfect snowman arms. Unwilling to part with anything from Meridian's sizable hat collection (mommy addiction), we found a Santa hat in a Chsristmas storage box, and made a scarf from some fleece material we'd bought for another craft.

Once at the beach, we made two snowmen: the one we were both allowed to work on, and the one that was only Meridian's in a "No I don't need your help" kind of way. We had fun running down to the water's edge for wet sand, and then watching a little pool collect in the hole we'd made as we kept going back for more. The pinnacle for Meridian was dressing the snowman. I let her do it, anxiously snapping away, worried that it might collapse at any moment. She did great though, only needing help with the scarf and pushing the arms in.

And what snowstorm would be complete without a snowangel? (Dedication to a "complete experience" died when the idea of a snowball fight was raised.) We love storytelling, and as we were making snow angels, the story became of a small girl angel who grew up into a big lady angel. You can see them both in the bottom pic.

More photos of our beachy Christmas adventure in the 3 ½ Year Gallery.

12.13.2007

Mommy confession: I have fully taken advantage of Meridian's inability to read this year. I'm more behind than I usually am with everything that needs doing this holiday season, and as such have needed every free minute to get things done. The first week of advent activities consisted of things that were arguably more mommy-chores than fun holiday festivities. Things like "Send a Christmas package to Kaitlynn and Shelby in Japan" and "Hang the Christmas flag outside", and even on one particularly busy day of errands, "Buy candy canes to hang on the Christmas tree."

As with all things, there is good and bad in this. The bad being that I don't feel as great about the job I'm doing of creating holiday magic as I have in the past. But, the lesson I'm taking from it comes from Meridian's reaction. Pure joy. Even over the mundane chore-like activities surrounding the holiday. "Oh Boy! Candy canes! And I can EAT one too!" It gives me pause, and makes me remember that I don't have to custom tailor a perfect childhood experience for her, that kids find the magic in whatever their situation is, and that I could stand to shift my perspective so that I too think sending a package to Japan is a fantastic fun activity rather than just a wait in a long post office line. It reminds me of the quote, "We tend to forget that happiness doesn't come as a result of getting something we don't have, but rather of recognizing and appreciating what we do have." (Frederick Keonig)

That quote comes back to me even in times when we ARE living Norman Rockwell's Christmas. This past weekend, it was ice-skating (which must be married in my pysche to a perfect Christmas because each year I anticipate it and build it into this phenomenol happiness-inducing activity). We arrive, and get our skates. All is well. We skate with Meridian on the ice between us, each of us holding one of her hands, the two of us bearing most of her weight. She slips and slides around the rink, and we have a grand ol' time. For fifteen minutes. And then, for no reason understood by me, she's done. She's not upset; she loved the activity; she had a great time; she's just done. And there for a moment I'm struck with disappointment, and as Dave takes her off the ice and removes her skates, I circle the rink a few more times thinking, "but I'm not done." And sadness starts to creep in around the edges because my idea was not realized fully.

That quote floats down to me from somewhere, and I'm able to shift my perspective and be contented. My idea was realized, was a success. Meridian LOVED our iceskating experience. She has no concept of time or money. She doesn't realize that our $18 bought 2 hours. She skated as much as she wanted to skate. And thinking of it that way pushed the sadness away, and let in joy. I don't know quite how to word the next part. There's something synthetic about so many of our experiences today. As a kid, we'd go sledding. Just climb up the hill and slide down, ...just as often as we wanted. When we were done, we were done. There was joy in that. Maybe it's tied to money. I paid $18 to give her an experience, something that brought me joy as a child. If it only took fifteen minutes to fill her with that joy and be done, I should honor that. I should be more committed to her inner happiness-meter than to the arbitrary two hour time-frame set up by the skating rink. That's what makes the experience real and what makes it hers.

12.12.2007

Last night, David put Meridian down for bed. He went through the whole usual routine: clean up toys, PJs, pee-pee, teeth-brushing, chapter book, lullabies and goodnight kisses. Then he said good-night and told her he loves her.

She said, "Yeah, I don't love you, but I'm glad I have a mommy." Man! That kills me. It makes me hurt for David, and it makes me angry. And it makes me feel helpless. Intellectually, we know Meridian loves us. Both of us. But, all the knowing in the world doesn't erase the sting of having those words said to you. I know it's developmental, and it's normal, and it's not true. But it hurts me to think of how it hurts David.

David though, master of emotion that he is, handled it perfectly, "Oh yes, you have a great mommy. She's the best mommy in the whole world, and I'm glad you have her too." And like that, he just ignored the comment about not loving him. Hopefully, Meridian will glean that those words didn't have whatever effect she'd hoped they would, and she won't persist with that idea. But even so, I can't think on it without being angry with her.

I think that part is more to do with me than with her, but then I guess it usually is. As parents, we react to each situation the way we do because of our own experiences. In this case, having grown up without a father, it's so important to me that she not have that hole I had. And she doesn't. David is such a wonderful father. When he's with her, he's really fully present. He is engaging and fun. He should be the preferred parent. I mean, I think I'm a great mom, don't get me wrong. But when she's with me, there's maintenance: there are errands and chores and play-by-yourself-while-Mommy-gets-this-done times. With David, he's always really with her when he's with her. Why does she not realize and appreciate that? And what do I do?

12.02.2007

Welcome to my favorite time of year! December first is practically like Christmas morning for me in the excitement it generates. It's opening day on my Christmas season, the first day of creating a magical feeling surrounding the holidays, the first day of festivities. I plan to try to blog a little more faithfully during this time to share our joy with you, and save our memories here for future trips down memory lane.

We've been doing a daily calendar routine with Meridian, teaching her how the calendar works, and marking off our days. I credit this with the excited questions I woke up to yesterday morning, "Mommy, can we today do the advent calendar?!" Yes we can! Today's activity: "Decorate your house for Christmas. Make some cocoa, turn up the Christmas tunes, and deck the halls." And that's just what we did all day, interspersed with pauses to read all of our favorite Christmas books and to sit for impromptu puppet shows as we unpacked the holiday themed puppets. Oh, I love this time of year.

Oh, and a totally unrelated perk: David has recently discovered the joy of baking bread, so our house gets to be filled with the spells of yeast rising and bread baking while we enjoy our preparations. I love how that accidentally came together. Today we're off to get our perfect tree.

One last note of maintenance: if you didn't get our holiday card last year, that probably means we have your wrong address on file. I just sent our card to the printer, so email me your address if you don't think I have the right one.

12.01.2007

In November we had the opportunity to go to Florida to visit Grandmommy and Großvati. We had lots of fun there, teaching them how to go treasure hunting, carving jack-o-lanterns and trick-or-treating, and visiting the Tampa Zoo. I've finally had a few minutes to add the zoo photos to the 3 year gallery.

We really enjoyed our visit and give Tampa Zoo five stars. Early in our trip, there were lots of the animals who were not on exhibit, and we wondered whether this trip would be nothing more than a waste of money. But as we got further into it, and especially to the hands-on exhibits, it became clear that Tampa Zoo is a winner. We fed the giraffes, watched the Rhinos fight, fed the exotic birds, rode on a camel, felt the stingrays and the Koi, and more. One of the manatees came right up to the glass to examine Meridian while we were in an underwater cave, and it felt for a moment as if we were the exhibit. The Kangaroo exhibit was really neat - they have a hop-around area and you can go in with them! We didn't ge tto do that because we got to that exhibit at closing time, but that just gives us another reason to go back.

After Florida, we got right in the car and drove up to NY for the weekend. It was the weekend of Aunt Jeanie's Teddy Bear Tea, and we were looking forward to it with much anticipation. Some background: my Aunt Jeanie has been taking all the small children in the family to this annual Teddy Bear Tea for 15 years now. It's an event that brings her lots of joy, and she delights in it each year. Meanwhile, this year when Meridian had to miss our friend Nigel's birthday party, he sent her a party favor package with the theme of his party: teddy bear picnic. It included a beanie bear, she named Joey, a package of teddy graham crackers, some stickers, etc. Well, Meridian instantly began gathering all of the bears in the house for her own picnic which then turned into a teddy bear tea party. I thought of Aunt Jeanie and had to relay the news. The result: we drove eight hours up to NY to be part of Aunt Jeanie's teddy bear tea.

I must admit, what I'd envisioned (little tables set for tea, bears in chairs, and children serving tea to them and each other, maybe with a dress-up component) was a far cry from the reality (big 'ol party, complete with DJ, magician, and 15-20 characters walking around). Meridian was a bit overwhelmed, not being a fan of especially large crowds or loud noise. In retrospect, I should have known better, and my friends all got a laugh out of my version of the tea party. My favorite part of the party was that the kids could bring their bears to the doctor. Meridian wanted to enjoy that part very badly, but she was too intimidated. She participated reluctantly, and you can see in the photo of her eyeing the reflex checker how badly she wants to play this pretend game, but without these people she doesn't know. She got dosed up real good on sugar, and it started to kick in by the end of the experience. After sitting in my lap for the first half of a magic show, I explained that my leg was hurting and that I needed to go sit in a chair. She stayed there amog the kids, and really enjoyed the show.

Confident after her enjoyment of the magic show, she went on a ten minute excited chase after all of characters, her favorites being winnie-the-pooh and a care bear. She was still scared of a badger, and didn't have much interest in barney. When I asked why Pooh and the care bear were her favorites, she said "Because those are bears what are supposed to be at our Teddy Bear Tea Party." I love that kid.

11.26.2007

ACK. Long silence. We've been so busy. First, we hope you all had a very happy and fulfilling Thanksgiving! In the last few weeks, we've been to Florida to visit Grandmommy and Großvati, to New York to visit Aunt Jeanie and Aunt Deana, and to New Jersey to visit Aunt Pammy, Uncle Rob and Matthew. Whenever we do such fun things like that, I want to come back with long entries detailing all the fun we had; of course, I end up procrastinating, and then all entries are put off. So, I'm dropping by with a quick post, and the synopses of our trips will have to come later.

I got a kick out of this recent letter Meridian dictated (to be sent to my mom):

Dear Nana Kat,

Where do you live? I live in a Indian house in Canada. Whoa! In Canada! I am an Indian. With teeth that are covered like a snowman. I am a snowman that lives in Canada. An Indian snowman. You are sitting on an alligator. Get off! Get off! He's biting you. OW! You say, "Ow!"

Will Nana Kat send me a postcard of where she lives that we can map her where she lives? Ask her that.

Love, Meridian

Which brings me to POSTCARDS: Meridian has over the last year developed an infatuation with maps and geography. She has again and again surprised me with how many questions she asks on the topic, and how much information she retains. A few examples: she knows where all of our relatives live (city, state, and country) as well as our closest friends, she recognizes the flags of the USA, Germany, Canada, Mexico, and Japan, she recognizes the NYC skyline and can distinguish it from other skylines, and she knows that the pyramids are in Egypt and Buckingham Palace (gaurds and all) are in England. Okay, mommy brag moment, I know, but she has a real thirst for geographic knowledge. So, we've undertaken a new project. We bought a large world map, and we're hoping to map all of our friends and relatives. That's everyone, those as close as Richmond (yes Uncle Bruce, that would be you) and as far as Brazil (yes Tati, you too).

How you can participate: please send us a post card from your geographic area, something that depicts something special about your region. When we get it, we'll add a pushpin to our map and make a scrapbook page about your city, state, country. On the page we'll include your post card, a flag Meridian will color of your country or state, and anything else we can dig up. If you want to be more elaborate and include a travel sticker, small value paper currency, etc, we'll be glad to learn about it. We're only mapping as we receive post cards, as a way to make this activity special and to drive home the message that we are connected to all of these places because we have friends or family there. We hope you'll participate.

10.24.2007

So, I think Meridian is weaning! She hasn't nursed in a week. It happened like this:

We've been reading chapter books together for the last several months as part of her bed-time routine. She really loves this. We read one chapter per night after PJs, teeth-brushing, and potty, and before nursies. The chapters are so much longer than her usual bedtime stories, but over the summer you hardly notice as the sun is still high in the sky suring her bedtime routine and indeed when she goes to sleep. Now with the sun setting so much earlier, it just seems like the bedtime routine goes on forever, and it's been dark for ages by the time she's in bed.

So, I decided we needed to shorten the routine. I said that we could do either nursies or a chapter books. We settled on taking turns: one night reading, the next night nursies. We just finished week two of this operation. During the first week, we stuck mostly to the schedule. During the second week, she would ask me during the day, "Is this a nursies night or a chapter book night?" On chapter book nights, I would say "It's a reading night," and on nursies nights, I would say "It's a nursies night, but you may choose: nursies or a chapter book." Without fail, she has selected chapter book every night this week. So, I'm not marking it down in the baby book just yet, but I think she may have weaned / be weaning.

I plan to add a section for what we're reading where we can keep track of what we've read and provide our personal reviews for other mommas out there. I think I'll add a section for music as well. Stay tuned for that.

10.22.2007

It's been two weeks since Meridian finished her swim lessons. She did the whole program in five weeks. We are very proud of her. During the last week, she went in once fully dressed in her summer clothes, complete with shoes, and twice fully dressed in her winter clothes, complete with boots, hooded sweater, and hat. They do this with the kids so if they ever fall into a pool, the feeling of being in the water with clothes on will be familiar, and they won't be distracted by it.

I put a video up of her in her winter clothes in the video gallery; scroll to the bottom and click play.

10.10.2007

Meridian's thoughts on homosexuality:

The other day, Meridian was talking about getting married and moving into her own house (she's just putting together the idea that when she's an adult she will not live with us anymore). So I asked her if she was going to marry a man or a lady. She said, "Um, ...I think I'll marry a lady. Then my baby will have two mommies, and if one mommy says no to nursies, the other mommy can say yes."

Then today, we had this conversation:

Mommy: [putting on tiara] Look, I'm a queen.
Meridian: No, only ladies wear crowns.
Mommy: Queens are ladies.
Meridian: Why?
Mommy: Because queens are ladies and kings are men.
Meridian: SOME men are queens.
Mommy: How right you are.

10.02.2007

This morning while we were getting ready for preschool, Meridian said "Today when we get to preschool, you can undo my buckles and then kiss me good-bye at the car and say 'Have a great day.' and then I'll walk by myself to my school and go in and down the hall and into my classroom." My gut reaction was "No way," but I'm glad I managed to mask it while thinking of how to handle the situation. I said I was thinking about it, and we continued to discuss it on the drive to school. I told her that I wasn't sure it was allowed. I explained that the parents have to sign the piece of paper by the door to indicate that they've brought their children there each day. She thought for a minute, and then suggested that I could leave her in the car, go in first, sign the paper, and then return to the car and let her go in alone. I explained that leaving children alone in a car in a parking lot is not a good idea. She thought some more, before reversing the order of her previous suggestion. Now I'd wait in the car, she'd go in - ALL the way in, and then after she was in her classroom, I would come sign the paper, but not kiss her again or say hello.

Finally, I decided that because she was working so hard to come up with a solution it must be important to her, and that I should honor the request. I told her that I would get her out of her seat, walk with her to the front door of the preschool (because she has to cross a part of the parking lot), and kiss her good-bye there. Then I would come in and sit on the bench by the front door, and wait there for what seemed like a really long time. And then when I thought that her teacher had already opened the door and let her in, I would come and sign the paper. I told her that we could only try this if she didn't get angry if I ended up coming over before the door was opened and she was in the classroom, since I wouldn't be able to know if she'd gone in because I can't see the classroom from the bench by the front door. She agreed, and as she did I realized what it was that was bothering me.

I'd been wondering why this was so important to her. The fact that she'd pointedly mentioned that I should kiss her outside made me wonder whether it was embarrassing her to be kissed in front of her friends (goodness me, already?!). So, after agreeing to our solution, I said, "We're going to try it. This will be exciting. Now, Mommy is curious. Can you tell me what you were feeling that made you want to go in all by yourself?" She said, "Well, I was just feeling that I am a brave, big girl who can be brave and do that." Such a poignant moment. Pride and relief mingled in me, and I had the same epiphany that I've had on countless occassions with her: She will tell me when she is ready.

But this time, there was another realization. It's human, I suppose, that my first reaction was that this desire was a rejection of me. But this is not about me, this is about her. We are reciprocals in this relationship, and both always present. It's a paradigm shift, maybe a practice in Buddhism of a sort, to eliminate the me and just see her. It was freeing.

10.01.2007

Last year, we celebrated the holiday season with an advent calendar of activities. Each day, Meridian would fish out a small ornament wraped with a slip of paper indicating the day's celebratory activity. Well, last year I promised at least three people that I would type out my list of activities. It may seem as though I had since brushed this aside, but no. I am just THAT much of a procrastinator. So now, in honor of October first which judging by the displays in stores this weekend, is clearly the new opening of the Christmas season, here is my list. In no particular order:

1. Buy a Christmas tree.
2. Trim the Christmas tree.
3. Make cocoa and sit outside together, singing carols while the adults hang the outdoor lights.
4. Paint snowflakes on the windows. (We use watered-down tempera paint, and a snow-flake shaped sponge).
5. Build a gingerbread house.
6. Go ice-skating.
7. Visit Santa Claus.
8. Make and hang a wreath.
9. Bake Christmas cookies.
10. Buy a toy for Toys for Tots. (Reflect with your child on the fact that there are children who have a much more difficult time affording things than we do.)
11. Select and hang a new ornament for our tree. (Date and initial it; I will let her have her selected ornaments when she moves out. We steer clear of characters, and aim for something that represents something we did together during the year.)
12. Make a holiday celebration basket for the squirrels.
13. Get ready for bed. Then after all the usual bed-time hubbub, sit together as a family and read every children's Christmas book your own.
14. Prepare a holiday package for a friend or cousin who lives away from you.
15. Make a garland.
16. Make festive cards (paint with holiday colors, collage with glitter, tinsel, and garland clippings, stamp with holiday stampers).
17. Drive through the neighborhood Christmas lights. We do this on several nights.
18. Make ornaments (we search online for new ideas, or pick up a craft kit or two at Michael's.)
19. Select an Angel Tree recipient and shop accordingly, engaging in conversation about poverty and how it would feel.
20. Bundle up, and go for a walk together as a family, telling stories of your favorite Christmas memories: the sweetest, the funniest, the most-rewarding, etc.
21. Get ready for bed. Then instead of going to bed, get a travel mug of cocoa and a wrap up in a warm blanket in the car. Bring along your extra homemade holiday cards and make one last trip through the neighborhood, stopping at the mailboxes of the best decorated houses. Leave a card in the mailbox telling the owners how happy their decorations made you that year.
22. Wrap gifts for relatives.
23. Go Christmas caroling.
24. Open one gift (holiday PJs and a book in our house).
25. Find the lucky pickle. (German tradition where a pickle-shaped ornament is hidden on the tree. The person who finds it gets the Pickle Gift - which we make something that the whole family can enjoy together.)

The best part is it's a fully-customizable idea. If something doesn't fit with your values or preferences, switch it out for something else. Be sure to include your own ideas for great holiday activities in the comments. Maybe we can incorporate some of yours this holiday season.

Okay, that behind me, we're now back to our regularly scheduled programming, and you'll hear no more from me on Christmas until December 1st.

9.22.2007

A few random questions from Meridian lately:

Q1: Are the clouds the house of the rain?
Q2: Does it hurt to grow wrinkles?
Q3: Why does Cai not talk normally? Why does he talk [deepens her voice considerably] "like this"?

9.18.2007

Last week, my cousin Karin got married. In preparation for the wedding, Meridian and I went in to have our toe nails painted. While we sat in the big pedicure seats, Meridian told me a story. This is actually the first full-length narrative she's ever told me. Usually her stories are more along the lines of "Once upon a time there was a dog named Ralph. The End." She has a very active imagination, and loves imaginative play, but this usually manifests itself in role-playing or in dollhouse play. She loves to hear stories, and requests them all the time. When I request a story from her, she usually refuses, prefering instead to be the listener. Without further ado, here is her first narrative (luckily I had a pad and pen in my bag, so I took dictation while she told me the story.)

Once upon a time, there was a unicorn who came to the shop. She wanted to have her toenails painted. But when she came to the store, no one was there because it was night time and it was dark, dark, dark. So, she looked behind her and there was a GHOST. Boo-Boo-Boo-Moan-Moan. So she galloped onto the roof and the deck, but they saw her. Then there were also monsters and other ghosts everywhere and only other scary things and no people were there. Then she galloped down and the monsters came down too and they ate her up. The End.

A little bit morbid, but very fun. I was impressed with the detail about the time of day, and the fact that there were no people to intervene (she's been exploring dark/bad fantasy play recently and does not like that I always try to steer the fantasy toward a happy ending, so I think the lack of people was definitely a way help make a happy ending unattainable). I also loved the repetition of the word "dark" and the inclusion of the ghost's boos and moans.

9.14.2007

I recently came across this video, promoting Infant Swimming Resource lessons. It is about a program that teaches infants (as young as 6mo old) and toddlers, how to float, how to right themselves and steady themselves in the water, and to keep their head above water if they should fall in. For older toddlers, they also teach the children to flip over when they feel confident and swim until they have no breath, then flip back to their backs and float until ready to swim again. Meridian began her lessons this week.

She goes every weekday for ten minutes. The first day she went under water willingly the first seven times. Then she decided she was done, and screamed and raged at Miss Kim for the remainder of her ten minute session. We stayed to watch the next few lessons when she was done. The little girl who went after Meridian was 2 years old, and had completely the 6 week course the previous year, and was now coming back weekly for a refresher. Meridian watched her intently, very impressed with her skills, and surprised to see someone younger than her swimming with such ease. When she finished, Meridian was excited to have another turn, asking if she could get back in the water and try that too.

I used that to our advantage, explaining that the little gorl had already gone through Miss Kim's class, and learned how to do that by doing all the things Miss Kim asked her to do. From then on, she's been golden. She loves the lessons, does whatever Miss Kim asks of her, and tries very hard to make her proud. When she feels particularly smitten with an accomplishment, she calls out to me, "Mommy, are you so proud of me?" Today was day five, and Kim thinks she will go through the course in four weeks rather than six. She's already shown her all of the skills that they will practice, so now it's just a matter of practicing them until Meridian can perform them independently.

More pictures in the 3 year gallery.

9.11.2007

And just like that, we go from birth to death. In the a public restroom today, Meridian and I had the following conversation:

Meridian: Mommy, when will that lady die?
Mommy [gasping in shock]: Wow. Not for a very long time, we hope.
Meridian: Why?
Mommy: Because she's not done living yet.
Meridian: Why not?
Mommy: Well, there are still lots of things she'd like to do before she dies. Maybe she'd like to ride in a hot air balloon, or maybe she wants to visit her family, or maybe climb a mountain.
Meridian: Mommy, what is dying?
Mommy: Dying is when your life is over, when you're all done living.
Meridian: But what happens AFTER you die?
Mommy: That a question nobody knows the answer to.
Meridian: You DO know the answer. I need to know that reason too.
Mommy: Nobody knows the answer. But lots of people have different ideas about what happens after you die. Would you like to hear some of those ideas?
Meridian: Yes.
Mommy: Some people believe that when you die, you leave the Earth and go to live somewhere else. So you can't talk to the people you know anymore, but you keep living in a new place called Heaven. Some people believe that when you die, you get born again as a brand new baby and start your life over again. You might get born again as a baby person in a whole new family or as a baby frog or maybe a camel or a cat. Some people believe that when you die, that's the end and nothing else happens. Do you like those ideas?
Meridian: Yes. When I die, I will be born again as a new Meridian and you can be my Mommy still.
Mommy: You might be right. But I hope you won't die for a very, very, very long time.
Meridian: Alright, I won't.

9.10.2007

Meridian has been puzzling through some fairly weighty topics recently. She's a thoughtful child, and it's obvious when she finally begins to ask me about them that she's been pondering the ideas on her own for a while. As always, I have no better way to relay the scope of our conversations than to merely repeat them here for you.

Figuring out how life begins: Meridian has known for some time now the basics of baby-making. A Mommy and a Papi love each other and decide to try to make a baby. Every month, the mommy makes a blood-nest in her uterus for a baby to grow, and teeny tiny eggs go into the nest. If the egg grows into a baby person, s/he stays in the mommy's uterus until s/he has grown enough to be born. If the egg doesn't grow into a baby person, then the the blood-nest comes out when mommy goes potty. This is the how. She's grasped this, and is happy with that explanation.

It's the WHY that is causing her some frustration. She wants to know who decides if a baby will be made? Does Mommy decide? Does Papi? I told her that nature decides. I explain that people are part of nature, and our bodies are part of nature. We talk about what else is a part of nature, ...the trees, the wind, the ocean. She makes this list, and we talk about how well the different parts of nature work together to make the world we live in. Trees make new leaves, our bodies make new people, plants make new flowers. How beautiful to be a part of such a beautiful world. And yet, it doesn't answer the question she wants the answer to, the same one I want the answer to, the one we struggled with for four years before we were blessed with her. Why not me? Here it is in her words:

Meridian [pointing at an empty seat]: Mommy, this is my brother and my sister.
Mommy: Oh, wow. Do your brother and sister have names?
Meridian: Yes, this is Emily and that is Owen. Owen is my brother.
Mommy: What nice names.
Meridian: Do you love them?
Mommy: Oh yes I do.
Meridian: Will you now make me a real brother and a real sister?
Mommy: Oh baby, mommy would like very much for you to have a real brother and real sister, but it isn't up to me.
Meridian: Is it up to nature?
Mommy: Yes baby, it sure is.
Meridian: Does the wind want me to get a brother and a sister?
Mommy: I'm sure the wind does, baby. But the wind is not the part of nature that helps a new baby grow. Mommy's body isn't ready.
Meridian [angry at the last remark, and loud]: Yes, your body IS ready.
Mommy: Oh, sweet girl. Mommy's heart is ready, and Mommy's mind is ready. But the rest of Mommy's body isn't ready yet.
Meridian [getting angrier still]: Yes, your WHOLE body is ready. I WANT you to get me a brother. I do want that.
Mommy: I want that too, baby. Mommy will try.

Dealing with infertility when we were trying to conceive Meridian was the single hardest thing I ever had to do, and it nearly broke me. I've been purposefully removed since the idea of a second child started tickling my fancy. I see the idea there trying to take form, but I push it away, not ready or willing to deal with the pain that comes with trying and failing, reshaping my dreams and telling myself that I can content myself with one child if that's how it works out. Meanwhile my tender, gentle child watches all of her friends get new siblings, and wonders "When will it be my turn?"

9.4.2007

Now that Meridian's had some personal experience with school, she's become more willing to indulge my use of German since I'm in school to learn German. I asked her if she would let me speak German with her while I do my homework, so I could practice, and she said yes. Often times, I'll come across a word I don't know and ask her what it means, and she is mostly always able to translate.

So, it happened that during the course of my work, I couldn't remember how to say the word "everything" in German. I asked, "Meridian, how do you say 'everything' in German." She stared blankly at me for a moment, then began counting. She counted through twenty, then looking around said, "das Fenster, der Tisch, die Erde, die Haare, die Augen, die Zehne". Translation: "window, table, ground, hair, eyes, teeth". Poor thing thought my question was literally asking how to say every thing in German. I smiled to myself, listened attentively to her list, and thanked her, then consulted the glossary for "everything".

9.3.2007

I was on the phone with a girlfriend, and Meridian asked me for one of Papi's games. David is into strategy games, so we have lots of wooden board games with interestingly shaped pieces. I got down a chess set, thinking the shapes of all of the pieces would entertain her for a while. While I'm on the phone, she asked how to play the game; I told her to line up her pieces in two rows. Why over-complicate? Plus, I was on the phone.

So, she starts lining them all up, and I'm distracted again by my conversation when she interrupts to ask, "Where does my king go?" It registers in the back of my mind that she somehow knows she has a piece called a king, and in fact knows which one it is. But since I'm doing something else, I tell her he goes in the line with the other pieces. Apparently, she's played this game before because she corrected me, "No Mommy, he goes in the middle with the queen."

8.31.2007

I'm a bridemaid in my cousin's wedding in a few weeks, so I had to have my dress altered. We went into the tailor's shop, and it happens that the tailor is Chinese. When she speaks to the other workers in her shop, they all speak Chinese. Meridian noticed this. It is the first time that she noticed on her own that another language is being spoken, and that she doesn't understand it. She was puzzled, and kept listening intently, trying to make out what was being said.

As usual, Meridian was in the throes of "The Whys". So, she's asking me a million questions, and I'm patiently answering them all. What are they saying? What is Chinese? What is that machine? Why is she a tailor? We go into the dressing room, and the questions continue. Why are those dresses hanging there? What are those pile of shoes for? Why do you need to try the dress on again? Why is the lady going to sew it?

From outside the dressing room, the tailor said loudly, "She's nosy, huh?" And I responded, "She's definitely a curious one." Meridian was perplexed that I'd understood her, and asked "What did she say?" Well, I didn't want to repeat the word nosy since I don't think it's a positive word, so I said "She said you ask a lot of questions." Meridian countered in a perfect imitation of the woman's Chinese accent, "No, she said 'She no see, huh?'" I was both supremely entertained by this, and mortified.

Meridian is definitely too young to be making any kind of racial joke, and I know her intentions were merely to repeat the woman as accurately as possible. Because she's bilingual, she is especially attentive to the differences in vowel sounds when switching languages. But knowing that the tailor had no way of knowing this, my mind was instantly swimming with how to ensure that the woman hadn't been offended and how to casually work into conversation that she speaks two languages and is just fascinated with this new exposire to Chinese.

Somehow I managed to insert this tidbit into conversation, though I'm not at all sure I managed "casually", and from there the tailor and Meridian tried to share phrases back and forth. Meridian taught her (after much prodding) how to say "How are you?" in German (Wie geht's? ) amd learned how to say it in Chinese (Ni hao ).

8.28.2007

In the last several weeks, Meridian has become astutely aware of rhyming sounds, and has a great deal of fun discovering rhymes and announcing them. We play along, furthering the exploration of sound, making silly songs and planting un-rhymes in to help her distinguish the sounds. In the last week, I've decided to see whether or not she's interested in exploring these words in written form, and whether she recognizes the pattern of rhyming words sharing the same ending letters. She is only mildly interested in the matching ending, but got pretty involved in the starting sounds and their corresponding letters, so we've shifted focus.

Today we explored the letter B, and it's sound. Digging though a magazine, she found baseball, building, bridge, boat, book, bed, butterfly, bath, bird, belt, boot, brother, and baby. As she tried to distinguish which pictures qualified, she'd try out the sound on the word. "Buh, buh, bird - YES! Buh, buh, frog - Nope!" When she finished her collage, I asked her to circle the ones that began with B in German as well. She was a little intimidated by that, so we went through them together. I'd ask her what each picture was in German, and she'd answer, then get excited to circle them when they matched the B sound.

She tried to write the letters as well; the red arrows point out her capital Bs and the blue arrow, her lower-case B. She wanted me to write in the item's names, but got bored a few moments into that, so some are unlabeled.

8.27.2007

Some things I've been meaning to upload for a time, for preservation. Meridian's first self-portrait. Her legs, in typically early-childhood fashion, growing from her neck. I love her belly button in the center, and her plethora of "curly hair."

And the first time she wrote her name completely, all letters in succession, was nearly two months ago, but I haven't remembered to scan it in until now. Unfortunately, she wrote the M and the E on different pieces of paper. We were at a restaurant, and she wrote an M, as she has often liked to do for several months now; (she also does the letter A). She taught herself to do that. I had never tried to teach her to write the letters of her name, not wanting to push her, following her lead. After she wrote the M, she said, "How do I write my next letter in my name?" She's known how to spell it for some time, so I showed her how to write the E, and she did so with little effort. Wondering if, she would write the remaining letters as easily, I showed her how to do each one, and then asked her to repeat them on the back of the receipt. I wrote in her M and E (since she'd already done those and wanted to continue through her name rather than starting over), and pointed to the space next to the E for the next letter. And just like that, she wrote them all in, copying the letters I'd drawn on the other paper. The A is upside-down as it has been for months, and we ran out of room, so N had to be squeezed in below.

8.25.2007

Overheard while playing with her babydoll: "I don't understand 'wah', baby, and I don't understand 'da'. Can you please try to use your words? Okay, sweet baby? Okay."

8.12.2007

I decided to make one of Meridian's grown-up wishes come true. She was delighted. Check the 3 year gallery for her first big girl shower all by herself.

8.11.2007

At Lauren's photo session the other day, I let the kids take a photo or two with my camera to get them motivate them to let me take their pictures. They were really into it, and each was excited for their turn. Michael handled it really well, and managed to snap a handful in no time. Andrew had to work harder, and with effort clicked one. Meridian had to work mostly to support the weight of the camera, and clicked the shutter release enough to focus the camera, but not enough to snap the photo. The next day, while I was folding laundry in my pajamas, she said "Stand my the wall, and hold up your shirt like this and look at me." I looked up to see her with my camera, and decided to oblige. She managed to click the button, and was so pleased with her one photo. She got pretty lucky actually because my camera was on manual settings, and just happened to expose the image pretty well. So, here's Meridian's first ever photograph. Not to bad!

It took all my will power not to crop my legs out, and clone away the wall outlet, but I wanted to preserve her exact first image. Maybe a camera will be under the Christmas tree for her.

8.09.2007

Today, Meridian had her end-of-summer-camp assembly at preschool. All of the parents were invited to come watch the kids sing a handful of songs they've learned at summer camp. She didn't spot me for a long time, and I saw her anxiously scanning the audience for me now and again. It broke my heart a little to think she might think no one was there for her. And then watching the assembly, my heart broke for her a little more. Amidst a group of maybe 60-75 preschoolers, all happily chatting and singing, swinging their arms and clapping in appropriate spots, stood my little sweet introverted girl, ...the girl I love who dreads large groups, who hides her face when strangers address her, who asks even Papi to plug his ears so that she can sing me a song, who tells secrets throughout the day - whispering in my ear the wants she has that she's too nervous to announce. There stands my sweet, delicate girl wanting so badly to sing, knowing the words, knowing the movements, but frozen by the too-muchness of this event. I'd catch her from time to time this summer, when she didn't know I was watching, teaching her dolls the movements to the songs, or singing the words under her breath in the bathtub. And I stood watching her carefully hide herself behind another child at the assembly, waiting for the songs she's come to secretly love so much to be done so the spot light would end and she could retreat into her anonymity. It broke my heart. I looked at the other children, easily going along with the songs, and reflected on what an accomplishment it would be for Meridian to sing along. A tiny thing, I'm sure, to all the moms of outgoing children, but such a brave effort for my timid girl.

Not having ever been a shy individual, it's hard for me to relate, hard for me to imagine how she perceives the world. I wonder often what goes on in her mind, and what exactly she's afraid of. I want to pass on to her such a strong sense of self, a confidence, a self-reliability. How do I teach those traits to my baby girl? How do I learn what it is she's protecting herself against, and arm her to do it without hiding from the world? How do I respect her tendency towards introversion and still help her become a strong female capable and willing to advocate for herself?

And then, half-way through the third song, she spots me and waves energetically. I blow her a kiss, and she blows one back. The song carries on, oblivious to our very public private encounter, and then it edges in and I find myself acting out the lyrics: Bounce, bounce, bounce in the light of love. Wave, wave wave in the light of love. Jump, jump, jump in the light of love. And somehow we pentrate the barrier, and she realizes she can do it with me. I watch her bounce, and wave, and jump, and my heart surges for her very small, very large accomplishment.

8.06.2007

Like her Mommy, Meridian has taken to making lists. Each time she thinks of something new to add to the list, she rattles off the previously existing list adding the new item last. I first noticed it when we were at the market and she saw white chocolate chips and asked if we could buy them. I told her I don't prefer white chocolate, to which she responded, "I prefer it. On my next birthday, on my number FOUR birthday, can I have a cake with white chocolate chips?" I told her that if she still remembered that just before her fourth birthday she could remind me and we would make her one.

A few days later in a store, she saw a tinkerbell camera she wanted. She asked for it, and I said no. She said, "For my number FOUR birthday, I'll have a cake with chocolate chips and this camera for my present. Is that okay, Mommy?" I told her that she'd need to remind me closer to her actual birthday. Now, several weeks later, the list goes like this: "On my number FOUR birthday, I'll have a cake with white chocolate chips and a blue camera, that blue princess chair from the Shelby birthday store, flip-flops that go between my toes that are in children's sizes, the bracelets that are pink with glitter, and also THIS bag of birdseeds for our birds that the cat won't eat when the mommy bird gets new babies." It amazes me that she she remembers the items on the list every time!

Yesterday, she wanted to go fishing with her Aunt Deana and her boyfriend Erik, but they were going boat fishing for several hours, and I knew she'd get bored on the boat after an hour max. So I kindly explained why she couldn't go. She said, "When I'm a grown-up I'll go fishing." I confirmed that she could indeed go fishing when she is a grown up, and in fact that she won't have to wait quite that long. Happy with the freedom being a grown-up would provide she began making her list.

Things I'll do when I'm a grown up (by Meridian):

• Go fishing on a boat in deep water.
• Drive a car.
• Ride a roller-coaster.
• Walk to the market by myself.
• Take a shower by myself.
• Go to the beach without mommy.
• Hold baby Lauren by myself and touch her hands also.
• Be a mommy with milk in my BIG nursies.

8.02.2007

Meridian welcomed her cousin Lauren Elizabeth into the world today. She was born to David's sister Suzanne and her husband Mike. Lauren weighed in at 8lbs 13oz, and was 21 inches long.

7.08.2007

A few weeks ago, we were thrilled to discover a neatly woven robin's nest in one of our hanging baskets, complete with two little blue eggs. We were especially excited because we've only ever had Mourning Doves nest in our yard before. Because the doves are notoriously bad mothers (throwing a few pine needles together and calling it a nest, locating the nest within reach of my toddler, to say nothing of the raccons and neighborhood cats), we've never gotten to the point of welcoming the baby birds and seeing them take flight. So, this beautifully constructed robin's nest placed too high for even David to peer into without climbing filled us with anticipation.

We pulled the piano bench over to the window so that Meridian could climb up and see the baby birds strain their necks as mother and father bird took turns bringing worms. We'd carefully hoist her over the hanging basket while mother bird was away so that she could peer in and see the furry little heads with their too-big beaks and their too-big eyes. We'd creep so carefully into the house if we used the front door so as not to frighten Mama bird from the nest, or we'd come in through the garage door. One day, walking out through the front door, I made what must have seemed to Meridian to be too much noise. She shushed me whispering earnestly, "Ssssshhhhh, Mommy. We have to be so quiet because Mama bird doesn't know that we won't hurt her. We can't tell her that because she doesn't have words. She only has tweets."

A few days ago, I attempted to stand on the piano bench with the window opened slightly from the top, ...just enough to slip my lens though. I stood there quietly, half-masked by the curtain, and hiding my face behind the camera... for an hour. Mama bird was wise to me, and waited patiently for my departure. The next day, I moved the other window in the room - not as good a view, but further away. I used the window to wedge my camera between the window itself and the window frame, then hooked up the remote control, and moved out of the room to watch from the doorway. I had to set the camera to manual focus and hope for the best, scared that the sound of the lens focusing would drive the mama away again. Unfortunately, her landing set the hanging basket in motion, and resulted in my focus being off. So, here are a few crummy pictures to remember our experience by.

Sadly, a neighbohood cat paid a visit a few days later, and the poor little birdies are no more.

7.07.2007

Meridian: If you feel poo poo, then you need to go on the potty. Not on the floor. I'm going now on the potty, and if you need to make pee-pee or poo-poo, then you need to wait your turn. THAT'S how we do it. Do you need to make poo-poo, Mommy? Why not? But if you have poo-poo in your po-po, then you need to squeeze it out. How 'bout this: I will feel your po-po, and see if it's fat or thin. If your po-po is thick, then it means there's poo-poo in it, and you need to sit on the potty. OK, that is my thought.

I'll just say, I have absolutely no idea where that thought originated, but I sure did get a chuckle from it.

7.05.2007

While shopping for books, Meridian was really puzzled over a sign which showed a caterpillar with a man's head.

Mommy: Oh, he's a bookworm, Baby, because he loves to read. You love to read. Are you also a bookworm?
Meridian: No.
Mommy: Oh, Mommy is. I love to read so I'm a bookworm. Are you also a bookworm?
Meridian: No Mommy, I'm a girl because I have legs and arms and a body. Worms don't have that.

Such the little logician. We also had this conversation recently:

Meridian: Mommy, how does an airplane fly?
Mommy: Well, birds have wings so they can fly, and airplanes have wings too.
Meridian: But why does the airplane's wings not flutter-flutter-flutter, up and down, like this?
Mommy: Airplane have little tiny parts on the wings that do move up and down to help them fly - they help the air go over and under the wings. Those parts are just so tiny that you can't see them. When we're on an airplane next time I'll show them to you.
Meridian: But a balloon doesn't have wings, and a balloon knows how to fly.

I love that she wants to figure out all the exceptions and be able to wrap her mind around a concept and fully comprehend it.

7.04.2007

The week before Meridian started preschool, we had another big milestone: her first overnight away from Mommy, and in fact it was four overnights. David had a conference in Vegas, and I invited myself along. I'd never been to Vegas, and David and I have not had a vacation alone since Meridian was born. I deliberated on the trip for several weeks before committing, alternately deciding that I was definitely going and then backing out. The timing concerned me, being the week before preschool. I didn't want to create any fear of mommy leaving just in time to have to tackle that each preschool morning.

Then David made the mistake of musing, "What if we both die on the airplane?" which of course set me into a tizzy of contingency planning, and served as the impetus for finally having our wills drafted. Nothing like imminent death to nip procrastination in the bud. Finally, the time came to book tickets, and still not 100% committed, I made myself enter all of David's information, and then change the quantity to two, clicking confirm before I allowed myself time for second (or third or fourth or twenty-second) thoughts.

Meridian was well-prepared for our trip. We begin each month by discussing what important events the month holds. So, we mentioned the Las Vegas trip on June 1. We told her that she would take Mommy and Papi to the airport, and then she'd come home to our house and have a fun vacation with Kaitlynn and Shelby. She took it well. She probed a bit: what will you be doing in Las Vegas. I saw the opportunity. She loves our land of imagination filled with fantastical adventures and colorful characters. I asked whether she wanted to know what we would really be doing there, or if she wanted a make-believe story about the adventures we would pretend to have there. Definitely make believe.

So I spun a tale about the flying unicorn we'd see from the airplane window, and the message she'd give us: look for the castle in Las Vegas which is gaurded by a dragon. There we'd find treasure, but only if we could outsmart the pirates who'd hidden it there. I went on with the story in great detail, acting out the characters, etc. We built on it a little each day. Then before leaving, I invented Mommy Mail and Papi Post - Ryan would slip each day's letter in with the mail for Meridian to discover. I wrote out the elements of our long adventure broken up into daily episodes, the unicorn's message the first day, the dragon and her game of ball with our hot air balloon the next day, escaping the dragon's tower and going in search of the treasure, and then finally meeting up with the pirates, conquering our fear of them in order to learn the whereabouts of the treasure. Papi had one day after I returned, so we wrote about Papi going back to teach the dragon how to use the GPS machine to find treasures all around the world since we'd claimed the treasure she'd been guarding. Each day, she got another letter from us, with pictures of the Vegas strip to match the story elements. Ryan said she'd get the letters, take them into a quiet corner to study the pictures alone, and then bring the story back to Ryan to be read to her.

She did so much better with the separation than I ever would have thought, only really crying for me once, when she woke up in the middle of the night with a wet bed. When I came home and asked if she'd missed me, she said, "I was doing so many fun things, I didn't NEED to miss you." How astute of her, and indeed she was. Ryan kept her schedule full of activity. They had playdates everyday, and then outtings on top of that - to the zoo, to the park, to the children's museum, to the pool. She got her fingernails painted and traded PJs and clothes with her cousins, and got braids everyday (an aunt Ryan specialty). Ryan was, by all accounts, mom-extraordinnaire that week, with two to three activities a day, then a homecooked dinner, a bath, and bedtime routine. Several times my friends insisted on coming over after dinner to assist with getting cleaned up and getting the girls bathed and in bed. Each time they arrived in time to find dinner cleaned up and put away, the girls in the tub, and pjs and books all laid out for bedtime. Pretty impressive with a four year old, three year old, and two year old! I had Ryan's kids the following week, and can assure you I did not live up to that reputation; more than once you'd have found me scrambling to clean up the dinner dishes while the kids ate breakfast the next morning. ;) But Ryan was sold - she's trying to convince me that we should do this at least once every 6mo or so.

7.03.2007

I'm behind and I have a list going of stories to tell, but in the interest of getting caught up, I'm jumping in with the most recent first.

Meridian began preschool in mid-June. We hadn't planned to put her in preschool actually, since we are planning to homeschool. But on the way to playdate one day, she asked if Cai would be there and I explained that he wouldn't because he's in preschool. She got a bit indignant and asked why she wasn't also in preschool. At that point, it had never even been a consideration. Academic goals aside, she is extremely shy and does not like people to talk to her even when she is in my company. I was surprised, and said that I'd be happy to take her to preschool - that she would stay with the children and the teachers and play with the puzzles and dress-up clothes and playdough and cars while Mommy went shopping. I fully expected that this extra bit of information would have changed her reaction, but she held her ground. For the next three weeks (without exaggeration), she asked every day if that was the day she'd go to preschool. So, ...I found one for her.

Actually, I didn't have to look far. Our good friends have their son Cai in a terrific preschool, and after taking a tour and asking some questions, we were ready to commit.

So, ...it's housed in a church, and that was of some concern to me because we are not religious. I asked about the religious curriculum, and was told that the kids may sing some songs and say a prayer at morning rally, but that was the extent of it. I guess I didn't take that to heart, having seen Cai rattle off songs from school, none of which were ever too much for me. After picking her up on her third day of school, we went shopping. When the cashier handed Meridian the receipt, I prompted her to say 'thank you.' She said, "Thank you God for receipts and camping and little babies." The hairs stood up on my neck. We have never talked about God. We certainly have never attributed little babies to God. And I'm thinking the jump to thanking God for camping (we'd just gone camping that weekend) wouldn't have happened without some guiding conversation. I force myself not to make more of this that it is, not to lend it importance by giving it too much attention. So, I don't say anything about it at all. Wait until she asks me questions before providing information, I tell myself.

Well, that gave me only the tiniest adjournment. Five minutes into our ride home, she asks, "Mommy, what is God?" Yikes. I'm not ready for that yet! I had to wing it. I said that God was an idea that some people have. That we like to say thank you for things that make us happy and that some people feel uncomfortable saying thank you without knowing who to thank. So they had the idea to thank God. I wasn't really pleased with that answer, but it was the best I could do on the fly. David and I have given careful thought to how to proceed from here. Do we yank her from the program? Bring her 30 minutes later after the morning assembly is over? Allow her to continue? After careful consideration, we decided to leave her in the program. The fact that she decided to attend preschool and that she is transitioning so well is too important a milestone to trample. Ultimately, while I think the intent of the songs is indoctrinary, they are very unlikely to succeed in serving that purpose since she won't be with the program very long and does not begin to comprehend the greater meaning of the songs. Since she stands to benefit so much from expanding her confidence in a group setting, we've decided to overlook the "Jesus Loves Me" in order to let her take what she can from the program.

Reaching that decision was not easy, and is the result of a good deal of reflection and discussion. Discussion with Meridian was key to the decision. While fishing around (surreptitiously, of course) for what she'd been told and how she'd interpreted it, we got a pretty clear idea that this is all traveling over her head. Here are some of her religious ponderings.

After my answer about God:
Mommy: What do you think God looks like?
Meridian: I don't know.
Mommy: Well, is God a lady? Or a man? Or an animal? Or not a kind of creature?
Meridian: A lady because ALL of the teachers are ladies.
Mommy: Oh, ...is God a teacher?
Meridian: Yes. And she is a teacher who owns my preschool.
Mommy: Oh, so you're thanking her for letting you come to preschool?
Meridian: Yes.
Mommy: Well, that's very nice of you.

Later I got to hear the actual prayer that inspired this conversation. "Thank you God for Camp Turtle Trap, and for fun in the sun. Help us to be kind to people and animals, just as you have done." Well, taking those words and coupling them with her complete lack of concept for any unembodied being, and her perception makes a whole lot of sense. Incidentally, it also clarifies why she'd be thanking God for camping.

Today gave me another peak into her interpretation of this new vocabulary. Meridian was playing doll house while I folded laundry nearby. She sat her doll house people out of their lawn for a picnic, handed out their food and said this prayer: "Thank you for this food. Amen." She pronounced the word awwww-men, and hearing her I could just visualize her sitting in rally participating in the prayer. I opened my mouth to ask a question when she continued, touching the place in front of each doll as she spoke: "Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen." I puzzled for a moment and then asked what she was saying. She told me: "Amen." I asked her what that meant, and she repeated the word slowly and louder. "Amen, Mommy, it's their food." I pressed, "Oh? They're eating it? But what is it?" She said "It's a nut Mommy. Amen." I smiled and said ok, thinking her answer peculiar for a moment, before I understood what her three-year-old pronunciation had clouded: "It's a nut, Mommy: almond."

6.07.2007

The day after Meridian's birthday, we were pretty surprisingly organized. The house was shockingly not a mess. And so, in the interest of keeping it that way, we decided to get the kids out of the house. We headed out for a geocaching adventure. We decided to head back to the first cache we ever looked for, which we hadn't yet found. It's called Southside Toybox, and is aimed at kids, and filled with toys. Right up our alley.

We know it's in West Neck Park, and so we headed there. Kaitlynn and Meridian took off up the path and I had to chase after them, while Ryan was left behind us with Shelby who was not wanting to walk, but too heavy to carry on this adventure. After a great delay, Ryan caught up to us, ...with a stroller she'd gone to the car to retrieve. Little did she know that this cache was off the beaten path, and not stroller friendly. Not to be deterred, we dragged the stroller along, alternately yanking and shoving it through the young and pliant bamboo and ultimately parking it in a clearing not far from our destination.

At that point, our GPS proved unreliable. We'd track towards the treasure, assured by our device that we had only 15 feet left to go; however, 15 feet later the GPS would recalculate and tell us we'd overshot by 40 feet. Backtrack, repeat process. We spent about an hour bushwhacking, and then called it quits. Meridian didn't much mind, as she was more dismayed by my consistent refusals at her requests to be carried. Kaitlynn did not take it so lightly. We'd told her we were going after treasure, and she wanted treasure, by golly!

So, in the interest of not disappointing her, we headed off towards a cache at Redwing that we've found before and knew we could get easily back to. And we did. Kaitlynn and Meridian both took great interest in signing the log ("writing a letter to the pirates to thank them for the treasure"). And then we headed home, stopping at for ice cream on the way. We sat on a picnic blanket eating our ice cream and checking the kids carefully for ticks. Can't be too safe, right? Good day.

UNTIL. Until several hours later while getting the kids ready for bed, when Ryan looked down and saw a tick inside her shirt. Then two grown women entered freak-out mode, stripping our clothes off in record time, scaring the kids with exclamations of "Omigod there's another one on your back" and "Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!" Shelby went into super clingy mode, no doubt upset by our completely out of character behavior. Our panic escalated as we continued to find more ticks (we were up to tick number 6 on me) and Shelby's crying became more and more insistent and more and more physical. We put her in her room and closed the door, recruiting David to watch the other two. After removing a total of 11 ticks, and confident (or as confident as is reasonable) that our hair and bodies were parasite free, we went to attend to her.

Put a diaper-aged child naked into a room by herself and expect poop on the carpet. This nugget of truth, which surely must have at some time appeared on someone's fortune cookie, was not present in our minds when we put her in the room. But entering the room, and seeing the poopy footprints being ground into the white carpet by the tantruming child, it came instantly back to us and we accepted it as an absolute truth of parenting.

Public Service Announcement: Hydrogen Peroxide takes poop right out of carpets. Just pour it on, rub gently with a white washcloth (white to avoid color bleed), and it comes right out. Now, if only I had discovered that little gem of parenting wisdom before Ryan tried to clean the spots with bleach water, effectively bleaching all the color out of the carpet while leaving the poop spots firmly in tact. So, we have a lovely bleach stained carpet, but looking on the bright side, it is a big improvement over the poopy/bleachy bullseyes that we had before I discovered the peroxide trick.

6.06.2007

HOUSEKEEPING: Finally got the 3 year old gallery added, complete with birthday party photos. There were far too many to add, so I selected my favorites, but you can view the entire gallery on shutterfly if you like. I also put a couple more pics into the 2½ Year Gallery. Take a peek. Lastly, the archive for this past year appears under the Third Year heading in the Journal section of the nav.

6.04.2007

Meridian: What day is it?
Mommy: Monday.
Meridian: Is it then tomorrow?
Mommy: Well, it's today. Tomorrow will come when today is over.
Meridian: Then what day will it be?
Mommy: Tuesday. It goes: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Do you know your days of the week?
Meridian: Yes.
Mommy: Can you say them?
Meridian: Monday, Sunday, Halloween Day, Summer, Saturday, Tomorrow.