My Little Stylists

I'm not sure what it is with kids and scissors, but apparently the combination results in an intense desire to cut and style one's own hair.  At this point, Emma, Charlotte and Cristina have all tried out the role of hairdresser. 

Just before Emma went to pre-K, she was scrapbooking in the room with me.  At one point, I realized that she had gotten really quiet.  I turned to ask her what she was doing. Her response, "well, I'm not cutting my hair," contradicted what I saw - her hair chopped off to her ears on one side.

Charlotte was about three when she decide to trim her hair.  When I asked her if she cut her hair, she said, "no, I just cut the knots out."  Nice.

Now, Cristina has taken the hair cutting to a whole new level.  A few months back, she gave herself bangs.  About a week ago, I noticed that hair on one side of her face was shorter than normal.  I asked her if she cut her hair and she said, "yes."  This week, she has been at it again.  I wish my camera was working because I would love for you all to see the mullet that she now has after cutting the hair on both sides of her face.  Today, Cristina decided to cut Charlotte's hair, while Charlotte was otherwise distracted.  Charlotte was devastated and said, "Cristina ruined my beautiful hair." 

I wish I could say this was the first time that Charlotte's beautiful hair was cut by a sibling, but it is not.  Just before Charlotte turned one, I came home from work one day and saw that all Charlotte's curls were gone.  I asked Brian, "What were you doing when Emma cut Charlotte's hair?"  He was oblivious until I pointed out Charlotte's curls covering the back of her little hair.

You might be wondering at this point why we let the children have scissors. Well, we believe in letting our children develop their fine motor skills.  Emma's pre-K teacher was extremely impressed with Emma's cutting skills - the accuracy and speed were unmatched in her class.  We're hoping for similar results with the rest of them......or maybe we just aren't good at hiding scissors.

Redefining Productivity

I had to remind myself for the billionth time today that it unrealistic to wish for a productive evening with a colicky baby.  I have this issue where I want to be productive every day.  When I was home on maternity leave, Brian thought I was crazy because I was complaining that I wasn't being very productive.  Being the reasonable human that he is, he figured breastfeeding, diaper changing, and keeping Ella relatively happy was being productive.  On the other hand, I dreamed of organizing the girl's toys, sorting through old clothes, setting up a yard sale, and finally cleaning off the top of our dresser.

Since I have returned to work, my productivity level at home has really plummeted.  Since Ella enjoys fussing from 6 p.m. until she passes out late in the evening, it is virtually impossible for me to get anything done.  As I type this, she is laying next to me on the bed, her body pressed against my thigh to trick her that I'm holding her.  I'm itching to do something productive - unpack the suitcase from our trip this weekend, sort Ella's baby pictures, or even clean the room.  Unfortunately, I am chained to the bed.

So, I'm trying to redefine productivity in my mind.  I'm going to give myself gold stars for brushing my teeth before I fall asleep.  I'll pat myself on my back for not giving in and just going to sleep when Ella does every night.  I'll congratulate myself for making it through the night without getting puked on.  Heck, I'll even reward myself for putting my dinner plate in the sink before beginning my evening bedtime battles with Ella.  Aahh.....I'm feeling really productive tonight.   

Cats

Have you seen the Iams catfood ad with the vet looking lovingly at a skinny gray cat with big ears?  The caption says, "My vet loves me inside and out."  This advertisement creeps me out.  Something about the way the vet is looking at the cat gives me the heebie-jeebies.  I just don't get the sentiment.  It might help if I was a cat lover.  Actually, it might help if I was an animal lover at all.

I haven't been an animal lover for a long time.  I have no interest in dogs, cats, gerbils, hamsters, or fish.  We tried fish once for Emma and one of the fish ended up being a cannibal and eating the other one.  I was grossed out and may have accelarated the death of the cannibal fish after it ate its buddy.  Anyway out of all animals, I seem to have the least amount of affection for cats. 

When I worked at Georgia Tech, my co-workers found my dislike of cats particularly hilarious.  To torture me, they showered me with cat gifts - magnets, lunchboxes, cards, and calendars.  It did wear me down a bit and I got a few laughs from the "Bad Cat" calendars.  Recently something happened to renew my distaste for all things feline.  One of the graduate assistant that works with me told me I had to watch an online dating service video.  Well, the video is of an avid cat lover who can barely complete a sentence about cats without breaking into tears.  I was seriously repulsed by the video.  Her tears and overwhelming affection for cats were just too much for me.  It was as creepy as the catfood advertisement.  It was enough cat for me for a long time!

Emma @ Seven Years Old

Today is Emma's seventh birthday.  I can't believe how quickly seven years have gone by.  It's seems like it wasn't that long ago we were bringing her home from the hospital. 

She wanted to have her birthday at Uncle Jerry's pool, so all her cousins could come to her party.  We were all saying today that it doesn't seem that long ago that we were having her first birthday party here.

On Thursday, Emma went to work with me.  She was amusing herself listening to songs on my MP3 player.  At one point, I turned around from my computer and she was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a book on her lap, bopping her head and singing Blake Shelton's Honey Bee.  Suddenly, she was sixteen years old listening to music and reading teen magazines.  I felt like if I blinked she would age ten years! 

I am so thankful for the blessing that she is in my life.  She is so smart, creative, and funny!  I love her little seven year old self and enjoyed watching her at her party.  She has always been a waterbug and I was amazed watching her jump off the diving board and swim in the deep end of the pool.  When did she graduate from swimmies to freestyling?  She spent six hours in the pool today and insisted at 9:30 p.m. tonight that she had a little energy left. 

Happy birthday to Emma!

Here is a little trick that she was doing in the pool today.  I was impressed at her vertical jump and accuracy!

 

Charlotte's Musings about War and Orphans

I love listening to the girls talk just before they drift off to sleep.  It's like they are slowly processing all the things from their day and it is amazing what they come up with on their own.  Tonight, Charlotte had some interesting things to say about war and orphans.

Charlotte: Gepetto's wife was dead, so Pinocchio didn't have a mom.  She went to war and got dead.  She didn't even have a sword.  I wouldn't want to go to war.  I'd want to stay home.  I wouldn't want Daddy to go to war.  I want him to stay home, so we can all be safe.  If I had to go to war, I'd throw pies and fruit in the bad guys face.  That would be awesome.  If you were in a war, I'd come in a ship and save you.  I don't think girls have to go to war.  Only boys...like Peter Pan, right?

Charlotte: Some kids are not lucky.  They don't have a mom or a dad.  They have to do it all themselves.  (Shrugs.) They gotta fix their lunch.  Get their own money.  They don't have anything to eat.  They have to eat rocks....rock sandwiches made in nature.  They don't have a mom and dad.  They just aren't lucky.  If they eat rocks, they'll probably be dead.  Some parents don't have kids.  They aren't lucky either.

She went on and on about the kids without parents and people "getting dead in war."  It must have really been weighing on her mind.  No more Return to Neverland for Charlotte.

Things I Don't Understand

From time to time, there are things that happen that I just don't get.  Things that I just can't quite wrap my head around no matter how much I try.  Here are just a few examples.

1) People who pass you on the interstate and then immediately slow down.  Similarly, people who pull out in front of you and go ten miles an hour.

2) Women who wear sandals where their toes are hanging over the front of the shoe.  This happens a lot in the summer.  I can't imagine this is comfortable.  Aren't their toes getting scraped on the ground?

3) Runners going the wrong way on the track.  Don't they realize that they are the only person running against all the traffic on the track?  Does it not cross their mind that they are doing something wrong?

4) People who think what they have to say is so important that the whole office, bus, train, etc. has to hear it.  Not only do I not understand this, but it annoys me to no end!

5) Traffic jams.  Living in Atlanta, this is a huge issue.  Why does traffic come to a standstill and then suddenly begin moving again as if nothing happened?  If everyone just went the speed limit, wouldn't this prevent traffic jams?  I just don't understand.

Poor Brian

There are times that I feel sorry for Brian - the lone male in a house full of ladies.  I know he doesn't mind, but there are times when he feels the need for a beer and a little ESPN to build up his testosterone.  Like the time he walked in on Emma and Charlotte comparing the holes in their vaginas.  Maybe after helping the princesses with their tenth costume change of the day. Today would be another good example.

The girls were outside watching the neighbor make giant bubbles.  Afterwards, he gave them the solution and they felt the need to scrub themselves in it. Brian sprayed them down with the hose before he let them in the house for dinner.  Instead of getting dressed, the girls headed to the dinner table wrapped in towels.  When they were finished eating, they proceeded to the livingroom where they started a game of "Butt Bump."  Yes, my sweet girls were dancing around the livingroom naked bumping their butts up against each others.  Cristina wanted me to join in, but Charlotte informed me I was too big.  Whew.

I thought about taking a picture of their silliness, but decided against it.  Fortunately for them, I gave up my chance for some really good blackmail material to use against them in their teens. 

Pavlov and Sleep

If only my girls would realize how lucky they are!  They can sleep whenever they want.  We practically beg them to take a nap and go to bed at night.  I wish someone would ask me to take a nap.  I would gladly oblige.  I'd be happy to sleep for eight hours at a time.

Last night was a particularly difficult bedtime at our house.  Cristina decided she didn't want to sleep in my bed - probably because Ella wouldn't stop fussing.  So, she goes back to her room and upset the sleeping arrangement in there.  By the end of the night, Charlotte and Ella were asleep in my bed and Emma and Cristina were sleeping on the pullout couch with Brian.  I found myself wishing then that I could train the girls to go to sleep at the ring of a bell....you know, like Pavlov's dogs.

Imagine, I ring a bell and all four kids fall asleep wherever they are at that moment.  Sleeping kids passed out all over the house....in front of the TV, in a pile of blocks in the playroom, on the toilet, and in the bouncy seat.  Then, I could easily pick them up and put them in their beds and find my own way to bed.  Hmm....gotta get me a bell.

Love Note

One of the things that makes having kids a little easier is their unsolicited displays of affection. For example, I'm headed out the door for work this morning and Charlotte says, "Wait, Mom, I have to give you something." I stop and she comes up to me and gives me a kiss.  Cristina loves to give kisses as well and they generally come in sets of ten or twenty at a time.  You almost have to extract yourself from her.  If puking is a sign of affection, then Ella is one sweet baby.  Emma on the other hand is more likely to show her affection through word or pictures. 

Yesterday, Emma came up to me while I was cooking lunch and read me a love note that she wrote for me complete with a picture of us on a sunny beach.  Here is the note:

"Mom I love you more than eny thing in the world more than a peach more than a oeshin liner more than a garden of flowers more than a field of grass and more the ten skys of stars."

Isn't that sweet?  She clearly takes after her daddy.

My Sister's Keeper

I read My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult the other day.  I'm pretty sure that this is my first and last Jodi Picoult book.  I actually thought it was well written and engaging, but it was about a family dealing with cancer in a child.  A co-worker assures me that all Picoult books are about illness and someone dying.  I cannot read books like this for two reasons:

1) I have an active imagination
2) I have children

Before I had kids, I loved to watch CSI and Without A Trace.  After Emma was born, I couldn't watch these shows any longer because I would start imagining the awful storylines happening in my life.  Then, I'd feel sick to my stomach and be paranoid for a least a day or two.  Similarly, I can't read books about illness or tragic things happening to children because it makes me freak out and worry about my own kids. 

Okay, now that I have confessed why I can no longer read Picoult, I will tell you what I liked about the book.  The story is about a family who has a child with leukemia and makes the decision to have another child who can be a donor match for the sick child. Fast forward thirteen years and the test tube baby (Anna) no longer wants to be used as donor cells for her sister.  Anna decides to sue her parents for medical emancipation, so she can make her own decisions about procedures she will participate in. 

Picoult does such a great job developing all the characters.  At first, you want to root for Anna to win her case because it seems her mother doesn't have her best interest in mind.  Then, you read her mother's heart wrenching perspective on having a child that is dying and you understand why she would ask Anna to be a donor - anything to keep your other child alive.  There is no real winner in the case.  I won't give away the end, but I will admit to needing a tissue when I finished the book.  Still, as much as I enjoyed it, there is no way I can read another book like it without fearing for my children's lives.

Slate

On Monday night, Emma was laying in my bed reading to me from Anne of Green Gables.  She is reading the part where Anne hits Gilbert Blythe over the head with a slate.  She seems kind of confused about this whole incident.  Here is a peek at our conversation.

Me: Do you know what a slate is?
Emma: No.
Me: It's like your own personal chalkboard.
Emma:  OOOhhhh!  Like the things they used to use before white boards.  You write on it with that stuff that gets really powdery....you know, chalk. 

I wish I could convey her expressions.  She was talking to me like chalkboards were an ancient artifact.  I guess when you have iPads in your classroom, chalkboards are a little prehistoric.

The Truth and Nothing But The Truth

One of the things that I love about kids is their brutal honesty. You rarely have to guess what kids are thinking because they are more than willing to put it all out there.  Of course, there are times that I wish the girls had filters to make the truth a little less harsh - just so they didn't come across as rude.

This morning, we went to church with my parents.  The girls are not overly fond of my parents' church as it isn't particularly kid friendly.  Emma swears that every time they go to church with Papaw and Nana they don't get home until midnight.  She thinks the services last too long and the preacher is too loud.

Today, I was sitting next to Charlotte, who leaned over and told me, "I brought these things that aren't boring, so I don't have to listen to him."  She spent some time looking at a book she'd brought with her and doodling on some paper.  After awhile, she pulled her legs up against her chest, pulled her skirt over her legs, put her head back, and fell asleep for awhile.  Then, when the service was almost over she says, "This is the part where we get to leave, but not until Nana lets us."  She didn't leave a lot of doubt in my mind about how she felt about church this morning.

The Tooth Fairy

Emma: I'm going to ask the Tooth Fairy for a magic wand, so I can wish for a thousand dollars and we can be the richest family ever.  Then, we can eat at Qdoba every day.

Emma came home from school one day and was telling us all about the Tooth Fairy at dinner.  At first I thought it was odd that she was talking about the Tooth Fairy, since we had never mentioned it at home and she still had all her teeth.  I caught on quickly when she started talking about her friends that got money from the Tooth Fairy.  That's when she told us that she was going to ask the Tooth Fairy for a magic wand, so she could wish for lots of money.  This is why I love Emma - she is so smart.  Why settle for a dollar, when you can wish for a magic wand and have money whenever you want it?

It was a few months after this that Emma finally lost her first tooth.  She was taking her evening bath with her sisters and they were goofing off.  Somehow Charlotte kneed Emma in the mouth and her tooth popped right out.  She was so happy!  She came running out of the bathroom to tell me what happened.  She couldn't wait to see what the Tooth Fairy would bring her.  Sadly, the Tooth Fairy must have been out of wands because Emma had to settle for a new toothbrush and a dollar.

The Lost Art of Reading

I read a little book this weekend called The Lost Art of Reading: Why Books Matter in a Distracted Time by David Ulin.  In this little book, Ulin sums up a lot of the problems with society.  We move from one news story to the next without contemplating the story in the bigger picture of things.  We are easily distracted by all the various forms of media.  In the rush to stay up with the latest and greatest, our memory of history is effected.  I love this section from the book:

"to read, we need a certain kind of silence, an ability to filter out noise.  That seems increasingly elusive in our overnetworked society, where every buzz and rumor is instantly blogged and tweeted, and it is not contemplation we desire but an odd sort of distraction, distraction masquerading as being in the know.  In such a landscape, knowledge can't help but fall prey to illusion, albeit an illusion that is deeply seductive, with its promise that speed can lead us to illumination, that it is more important to react than to think deeply, that something must be attached to every bit of time.  Here, we have my reading problem in a nutshell, for books insist we take the opposite position, that we immerse, slow down."  (p. 34)

Ulin's 151 page book brings up a lot of interesting points in regards to how our consumption of information has fragmented the thinking of the general public.  He gives the example of how reading on websites engages the part of our brain that has to do with judgment (which link to click next) and diminishes activity in the part of the brain that has to do with comprehension.  Not to mention that when we click on links from one page to another, we are often reinforcing our own opinion.  Looking for other evidence to support our point of view rather than expand it.

The last point that I thought was interesting had to do with how information presented online is seen as fact, when much of what is posted on blogs and even news sites is very subjective writing that is not always based in fact.  He includes an excerpt from a graduation speech delivered by Barack Obama to make this point.

"Meanwhile you are coming to age in a 24/7 media environment that bombards us with all kinds of content and exposes us to all kinds of arguments, some of which don't always rank that high on the truth meter.  And with iPods and iPads; Xboxes and Playstations - none of which I know how to work- information becomes a distraction , a diversion, a form of entertainment, rather than a tool of empowerment,rather than the means of emancipation." (p. 62)

The Shame of the Nation

This week, I finished reading The Shame of the Nation: The Restoration of Apartheid Schooling in America by Jonathan Kozol.  If you haven't read anything by Kozol, you really should go to your local library and check out one of his books. He is an educator that has written extensively about the plight of children in urban schools.  A few weeks ago, I read Savage Inequalities, which is a book he wrote in the late 80s/early 90s to expose the inequality in educational experience between children in the suburbs versus the cities.  The sad truth is that not much has changed for these children in the twenty years between these books.

There are so many issues raised in his books about the educational system in the United States that I could write pages about them.  Issues like the financing of school systems, the segregation of minority children, the high dropout rates for minority children, and the role of politics and business in educational decision making.  In my attempt to keep this post short, I just want to comment on one little piece from the book that really stuck with me.  Here is a quote:

"Merit, no matter how it may have been attained, is somehow self-confirming.  They early advantages one may have had become irrelevant to most of us once a plateau of high achievement has been reached.  The years we may have spent when we were three or four years old in a superb developmental preschool, the strategies our parents may have used to win us entrance to a first-rate elementary school, and all the other preferential opportunities that may have introduced us to the channels in which academic competence has been attained - all this falls out of view once we arrive in a position in which we can demonstrate to others, and ourselves, that our proficiences are indisputably superior to those of other students of our age who may not have had these opportunities."  (p. 140-141)

Just before this particular quote, Kozol was talking to students in an privileged high school in New York City.  The students were basically saying that they deserved to have all the benefits afforded to them in their high school - great teachers, cultural experiences, top notch facilities, and a variety of high level courses - because they were the best students.  They failed to realize they were the best students because of all the extra benefits they had received throughout their life. It was easy for them to look down on the students in other schools who were not as academically successful, but they didn't acknowledge that these students have been educated in subpar buildings with overcrowded classrooms, in many cases without textbooks or regular teachers.

These are the same people that will grow up in many cases to be our nation's leaders.  How can we expect them to have empathy for people who are not as privileged as them, when, as young people, they have no empathy for those less fortunate?