Getting ready for the holidays!

I had a big report due on Monday at work and then I was off Tuesday and yesterday. So I'm back at work today and ready to blog ..er...work. Right. Work.

I don't have anything really profound to say, so I guess I'll just get down what's been going on the last several days.

Last Saturday, we went to our friends Mark and Kelly's house and made reindeer cookies with Naomi and the boys!

I love that Kelly tried to get Naomi to eat a sandwich first. (She's shoving M&M's in her mouth by the handful.) Ha-Ha-Ha!

It was so much fun, we're going to do it again with a few other friends -- with more kids, yikes! -- this weekend at our house! Although I doubt it will be as fun as it was with Kelly and Mark because 1) Kelly is so laidback and cool about everything, that it was just really relaxed and nice and not manic like it probably will be when it's at my house, because I'm crazy and 2) Kelly made super delicious coquitos -- coconut eggnog with rum! Yummm!

It was so nice to see them all. I wish I lived closer to all my friends! Sniff.

Lester's big Christmas present this year was tickets to see Lauryn Hill at the 9:30 Club on Sunday!
We went to dinner in D.C. first and marveled at how much the neighborhood around Howard University, my alma mater, has changed. Things are developing/gentrifying so much that this restaurant we went to had only been open a week. And it was packed! And there were only a handful of black people. People who know anything about the Shaw/Howard U. area know that that is CRAZY.

Here we are, out. Alone. No kids. Alone. Having a drink. Alone.

The concert was really good (despite it being at the 9:30 Club, a standing-only venue which is impossible for shorties like me). For those of you who don't know anything about Lauryn Hill, suffice it to say that she is this incredible talent who got totally plowed over by her good-looking, charming cad of a baby daddy (Bob Marley's son Rohan) who left her and their FIVE kids to go off and marry some model. After that, Lauryn went cuckoo for cocoa puffs. She shaved her head, acted loopy at concerts (when she showed up at all), got in trouble with the IRS, went to JAIL!! and just seriously had a really hard-to-watch, broken-hearted breakdown.

But she's making a comeback and Lester absolutely loves her, so we took a chance and bought tickets to see her perform. I'm so glad we did. She sings with so much passion -- even moreso now that she's been through so much. It was a really good night, spent rockin' out with my baby. :-)

Before the concert, our friend Callie invited us to the Baltimore Museum of Art to hang out and make instruments during the museum's arts and crafts time. So we trudged over there and got to see the boys' friend Spirit, who Dean just loves. And we met some other very nice families and made a big mess with glue and scissors, construction paper and ribbons.

The boys surprised the heck outta me by being able to cut! I had no idea. In my house, we stay far away from scissors. Good thing their teachers are more adventurous. Also, Clair glued her lips together, using the glue stick like Chapstick. My kids are so creative.

And, lastly, I really made the most out of my days off.

Tuesday, I spent the day with Lester, hanging out and picking up a few things we needed to finish our Christmas decorations. And yesterday, I rode the school bus with my boys to their field trip (a play at Goucher College), came home, had lunch with them and went out and got my hair done!

I also got to just spend quiet, middle-of-the-day time with my kids, playing Christmas music and witnessing moments like this:

Which was really, really nice, because you all know how it is when you get home from work - all the harried task-completing, and end-of-the-day meltdowns. It's nice to get to see my children during a more relaxed time, warm and comfortable, safe, happy and loved.

If I didn't get another thing for Christmas, just having had this time with them would be absolutely enough.

Caught in the act, and I don't care!

You know those celebrity tabloids that show photos of your favorite stars looking schlubby or doing something embarrassing, like walking around with a wedgie or dripping mustard all over their clothes?

I feel a little bit like a celebrity today.

Last night, we dragged the whole family to Target to buy a few things we needed for the house and for a cookie-decorating thing we're doing Saturday with our friends Mark and Kelly and their kids.

It was right after work, so the kids were hungry for dinner. Lester bought hot dogs and grilled cheese and popcorn (dinner of champions!) and set up in the store's little dining area, while I power-shopped. I couldn't find one item I needed, but my check-out lady told me where to find it, so after paying for all my other things, I lugged Clair back with me to the far end of the store to get it. When I came back to the dining area (still without my item), Cary and Dean were spastically rolling the shopping cart into empty tables, spilling popcorn everywhere and just generally bouncing off the walls. There was NO settling them, so I just ditched the hope of finding chocolate-covered pretzels and said, "Let's go!"

We hustled out of there (to get our tree, yay! Which Dean picked out. Of course.) and got home so late that it was all we could do to wrangle the three over-tired crazies into bed and CONK out. No Scandal. No Game of Thrones. Just sleep. (Well, Lester folded two baskets of laundry, awesome husband that he is, but *I* fell flat on my face.)

Anyway -- it was all just another day in the Davis household. Until I got a message this morning from a colleague on Facebook who said she thought she'd seen us at Target and wanted to know if we'd been there the night before.Why, yes. That was us! Awww, we could have stopped and chatted. Aww.

But as the morning wore on, I started thinking: What exactly did she see?? Did she see Clair pick up that stray chunk of hot dog from under the table across from us, and me do the TV-slow-motion dive to knock it out of her chubby little hands just before she chewed on it?

Did she tsk tsk at how I had lazily clapped Clair's hair into a frizzy 'fro on the top of her head - and that she had "runch" all over her shirt? (That's what she said when I asked her what on Earth she spilled all over her clothes. "Runch.")

Did she judge me about the veritable carpet of popcorn we left for some probably-pissed-off employee to clean up? (I did whisper "Sorry about the mess!" to the random Target employee who was sitting there taking her break, but she just glowered, so I don't know if that means "You're forgiven, poor harried mother of three" or "Eff you and happy new year!" But I digress.)

Could she hear  -- all the way from back in the section with the Christmas trees -- my boys' complete and total inability to use anything close to an inside voice? Ever?  [Seriously. WHY are they so LOUD? Dang.]


I thought we had been anonymous in Target -- the ragtag bunch of us, all hastily bundled in mismatched hats and gloves, ketchup-stained, loud, hungry and unable to find chocolate-covered pretzels or mini M&Ms, despite two trips to the back of the store! DAMMIT.

But we had been spied. By someone who knew us! This must be how Oprah feels!

If I had written this blog post in my 20s, the moral would have been, "And this is why you must always look your best when out in public!"

Thank GOD I'm no longer in my 20s.  Because I didn't care one bit. This is the blessing of getting older and less concerned about what the world thinks of you.

And I know that my colleague truly wouldn't have judged -- she's a cool person, and a Mom herself, who was running late to pick up her own kid.

But even if she did judge, it wouldn't have mattered. My kids are not always magazine-ready; they don't always behave well in public. Hot dogs are messy; popcorn even moreso. The gloves that match the hats sometimes get lost.

And so what?

As a mother in my 40s, the moral of THIS blog post is: If you want chocolate-covered pretzels from Target, to make reindeer cookies for your crazy, messy kids, you'd better get 'em early, because they sell out.

Random wintery, pre-Christmas thoughts

Random thoughts:


When did Clair learn to say "sure?" -- You ask her to do something, she says, "Sure!" It is too funny. She also likes to tell "stories" using mostly nouns, but some verbs, like "crying" or "sleeping" or "falled." I love having conversations with her -- can't wait to hang out with my chatty girl when she's older. P.S. Can't believe she will be 2 in February. Good grief.
***

Still no tree in the Davis house. In fact, there are pumpkins sitting on my front porch (covered in snow) and scarecrows on my dining room window sills. I don't know when (or if) we're going to take Christmas card photos -- and then address and send the cards to friends and family. And I haven't pulled out the Christmas music yet. I am really behind this year. Like, woefully. (P.S. How do pumpkins last so long?)
***

I really enjoyed this newspaper article about what toys inspired girls who eventually became engineers/scientists:

I especially loved the connection between Legos and code-writing (something which I totally wish I understood anything about. Even just a little html would be nice to know.)

Note to Santa: Add more Legos to the Christmas bounty!
***

It has really gotten cold here - today won't even make it past 30-degrees. One super-annoying thing about winter weather: fastening two big boys into their safety seats with their tremendous, puffy coats on. Seriously, I break out into a sweat trying to get them buckled in and always have to stop myself from saying words no 3-year-old should hear. Today, after my frustrating struggles to get them clicked in, the boys spilled the beans that when Daddy takes them to school, sometimes he doesn't buckle them in. "He says, 'It's OK. We're just going around the corner!'" they told me.
Tsk, tsk, Daddy! Someone's getting a lump of coal in their stocking this year.
(I also had to laugh that they totally told on him! Hahaha! You can't do anything around kids this age. They will let the cat out of the bag. Trust.)
***

I am almost finished with Book 2 of Game of Thrones. Reading these books is definitely an investment, but really worth it. Even if you're not a fan of fantasy, if you like well-written, character-driven stories, with intricate, fast-moving plots and great dialogue (especially from Tyrion, the Imp) you would like these books. Take it from me. And actually, the "fantasy" part is somewhat incidental, I think. But you guys need to read 'em to see for yourself.

Speaking of GoT, I called my Dad this morning on my way to work and we had a little mini bookclub, talking about where I am in the books and Dad's thoughts on it, etc. It was really nice. I absolutely love being able to talk about books (or anything) with my Dad. One of the best parts of my life.
***

My friend Olivia wrote a Christmas letter that was so funny, I am determined to write one for this blog. It won't be as good as hers, but I am pledging right now that I am going to get down the highlights of 2013 in one place. Just as soon as I finish this MONSTER report at work, toss the pumpkins, get a Christmas tree, decorate the house, come up with something to put on the front of a Christmas card, and drive the family insane with repeated playings of Donny Hathaway's "This Christmas."

After all that, if my end-of-the-year letter comes next year, I'm sure you'll understand.

Clair has PTSD

After vomiting multiple times on Saturday night, my poor daughter appears to have PTSD.

Several times a day she stops mid-play to tell us, "I pit up." After which, we have to say, "I know, baby. You spit up," and make a sympathetic sad face, in order for her to go back to doing what she was doing.

She also is having a harder time getting in and staying in her crib.  I think this is because most of the throwing up happened after she was in the bed for the night, and every time my Mom put her back in her pack 'n play.

Last night, she cried after we put her down to sleep -- something that happens very rarely. When I went to soothe her, she cried harder, saying, "No Mommy. I pit up!"

I think she thinks if she stays in her crib, she'll vomit. Awwww. Poor baby.

And then this morning, I went in to get her and she was standing up in her crib, smiling happily, but saying, "Pit up!"

She's obsessed. I feel so bad for her. What do I do with a child who has stomach virus PTSD?

Rat skulls, cocktails and Murphy's Law strikes again

In my quest to find more science-y things to do with the kids, I happened upon the most awesome thing. Every Saturday, Masonville Cove Environmental Education Center has free activities for pre-K kids! Every Saturday. FREE!

The one trick is that they can only fill 20 slots, including adults, and so you have to sign up fast for the weekends you want to go. I learned this the hard way, as I have been trying to go to one of their programs since October!

But this weekend, we finally made it -- and the lesson was on "noc-turtle" animals. (That's how the boys say it.)

We learned about owls and bats and other animals that do most of their living at night. The programs are awesome because they combine toys and stuffed animals with music (the teacher sang a song about nocturnal animals - seriously, who makes a song about nocturnal animals?), a little science experiment, outdoor playtime, arts and crafts AND snack. Did I mention this was all for FREE?

Playing with all the stuffed animals.

The science experiment involved dissecting "owl pellets," which owls cough up after eating mice and other small animals. Because their stomachs can only digest the fleshy parts of animals, the pellets contain all the fur and bones. So we pulled apart the pellets and looked under magnifying glasses at little mice skulls and leg bones and teeth and tails.

The boys were only mildly interested in this -- especially because they had discovered binoculars earlier in the program and really only wanted to look at everything they could find with those. So checking out mice bones was a road bump in their binocular play. I suspect slightly older children, who really understand digestion and anatomy a little bit more would find this supremely exciting.

For my part, I found it pretty cool, but also a little bit gross. But I did a really great job of hiding my  grossed-out-ness because when one is trying to nurture the inner brain surgeon in one's children, one cannot make faces and go "Ewwwww!" when checking out mice skulls. (As much as one might want to.)

Come on. Look at that and tell me you don't want to give me a high-five for suppressing my "ewwww!"

Making a craft.

Owl puppets, with "real" feathers.

It was a little chilly for the outdoor play part of the program -- pretending to be bats and trying to find your friends (or Mommy) using echolocation. But the boys thought it was a lot of fun running around with their eyes closed shouting.

All in all, the morning was really awesome. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and I know that going to this program will be a big part of our lives from now on. In fact, I think I've just found the place that will get our end-of-the-year donation in 2014: Masonville Cove.

Lester took Clair with him to a political event that morning, so while the boys and I were sciencing (just coined a word! Holla!), the two of them were politicking.  The Mayor was there and the Lt. Governor (who is running for governor), but Lester said Clair stole the show. I'm not surprised.

Later Saturday afternoon, we all went to my parents' house. We dropped the kids off with Mom and Dad and went to a holiday dinner party at the home of my friend Wes' girlfriend Danielle.

Danielle and Wes.

The fancy Davises (pre-cocktails).

The evening was VERY elegant. There were all sorts of stinky cheeses, and appetizers with brie and caviar, and super fancy place settings and a beef tenderloin so damn good I wanted to sing halleluiah to the cow who gave it to us. There was a signature cocktail (with cranberries that had been soaking in vodka for two YEARS) and dinner served with both a red and a white wine.  And the conversation was really hilarious and substantial and satisfying.

Grown-up night out. Good friends. GREAT food. Excellent conversation. Kids safe and happy (and asleep) with my parents: When we left Danielle's house, we were on quite a high!

It was quarter to 1 when we walked in -- and the high ended there.

Every light was on in the house. Mom was up washing linens and pajamas and Cary and Dean were awake and wired. Clair was crying and looking pitiful.

Apparently, poor Clair had vomited THREE times while we were gone. Once, she spit up all over Cary. And in the middle of all of that, Dean got ahold of a stapler in my parents' office and stapled his thumb. Dad had to pry it out with pliers. 

I thought for a half a second: Boy, so glad we missed all this excitement! But remember how we always say that no good date goes unpunished? Well, just know that Mom happily handed her shift over to me when we came in, so the fourth time Clair vomited (this time mostly liquids), it was our turn to change her pajamas, put new sheets on the boys' bed (how she managed to aim and hit the boys' bed every time is beyond me) and try to get her back to sleep.

At 3 a.m., she and I were still awake on my parents' living room sofa.  Her tummy was upset and she was "hunggy" and "firsty" but I wouldn't dare put another thing on her stomach, so she just whined and complained and fidgeted until finally, around 3:40, she collapsed from exhaustion.

Of course I was sorry as can be for my poor sweetie (and my poor parents!) but I was also thinking how it is SO Murphy's Law that the one night I have two or three (or four, but who's counting) cocktails, plus two glasses of wine, is the night my poor, sick child won't sleep until nearly 4 a.m.!!

And of course C and D were up at 7:30 a.m. --  bright-eyed and ready to eat breakfast and play in the snow that started falling later in the morning.

Lester and I were both so tired, we missed church and didn't get to go buy our Christmas tree like we wanted to. We mostly just sat around the next day, drinking coffee and falling asleep mid-sentence.

Lucky for us, the bug was pretty much over and done with by morning, so Clair feels much better and we are making plans to go get our tree sometime this week. So there are no regrets, people. I'm dragging still a little bit this morning, but I still have the memory of that fabulous tenderloin. And boy was it worth it.

My generation's MLK

Today, I am overwhelmed with admiration and immensely thankful for the life of Nelson Mandela. What a life he lived! What a legacy he leaves behind! 

I am also praying that Mandela's life's work doesn't stop with his death. I sincerely pray that those who are inclined to hate people -- because of the color of their skin, or their sexual orientation, or their body shape or economic status -- will one day be moved nearer to love.

If the world envisioned by Martin Luther King Jr. and the great man they called Madiba can truly be realized, then I won't have to fear for my little brown babies as they grow and go.

Your dreams are my dreams, Baba Mandela.

May our dreams someday come true.

 
“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.” —Long Walk to Freedom: The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela

Learning is fun. But fun is fun, too.

In my family, I'm often chided for being a little too focused on making sure the kids are intellectually stimulated and that the things they're exposed to or involved in have a learning component, even if the "learning" is about kindness, or manners, or the proper appreciation of New Edition songs.

I admit that I do try to take advantage of the relatively few moments I have with my sweeties, because I know their little brains are ripe right now for knowledge.

But we do allow our kids to just be kids -- and even *I* know that not everything in their young lives has to be educational. Sometimes, kids just wanna have fun.

 

Parent-teacher conference

Lester and I went to our first ever parent-teacher conference last night.

We sat in tiny little chairs in the boys' classroom and heard all about how great our sons are. According to their teachers, Cary and Dean are "so sweet" and very "polite" and almost always on task when they've been asked to sit criss-cross applesauce with their hands in their laps. They are "bright" boys and know their letter sounds, shapes and colors -- and even a couple of Spanish words (rojo and azul). They also take their "jobs" very seriously, we were told, even though that's something we already knew. "Door holder" and "line leader" are tasks we hear a lot about in our house.

Their teachers also talked about Cary's supreme love of books and reading, and Dean's supreme love of being the boss of everyone.

"Dean is a real alpha male," Miss Michelle told us. "He is going to be running the world one day."

That made me laugh.

All in all, it was a really good visit. If all our parent-teacher conferences go that way, I'll do a happy dance for the next 15 years.

I was slightly concerned that the school doesn't seem equipped or willing to help nurture Cary's reading readiness. But then I talked to my Mom and she reminded me that pre-school is more about helping kids develop holistically -- with a special emphasis on social, emotional and behavioral markers. Lester was already of that mindset, and he assumed as well that there wasn't much the teachers could do even if they wanted to in a class of 19 three-year-olds. (And Cary and Dean are only there half-day.)

So I'm no longer concerned. We'll just keep working with reading at home with both boys and continue to support the school in the areas that they are focused on this year -- such as using their inside voices. If they can help my two megaphone-mouthed boys to do that, I will give their teachers a million dollars.

Hoping "The Secret" really works

This week, Lester and I did something we have never done before: We booked our summer beach rental!! Awww, yeah!

It's December! Who ARE we? Seriously, we have never had our act together about anything this early. Maybe we've been replaced by pod people.

Anyway, we are getting a small house this time because the apartment we got this year was really nice but too small for 2 adults and three small, energetic children. I'm excited knowing that we already have a vacation planned for 2014. Gives me something to look forward to half the year!

I also booked my girls trip to NOLA for February! Going to hang out in the Big Easy with my girls Jill, Lisa, Erin and Erika -- all of us former Sun reporters who have moved on to other things. I can't wait to see them, and possibly try to squeeze in a visit with my girl Candice who lives in LaPlace, La.

And ... I finished Christmas shopping (except for two things I have to buy in stores). Finished! Done. Finito!

Now, we just need to somehow find the money to pay for all this stuff. Hahahaa!

You know that book "The Secret"? I am really hoping  all that power-of-positive-thinking stuff really works.

If you buy it, the money will come....

If you buy it, the money will come...

Building blocks of contentment

Yesterday, while I was cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, Lester and Cary were reading on the couch in the living room, and Clair was screaming to be picked up.

When the screaming got to be just too much, I decided to put off the kitchen-cleaning and just sit with Clair in the living room until bath time. We were only about 20 minutes away from bath time, and if it made her happy, then the dishes could wait.

So I sat in a chair and snuggled and kissed and played with her, while Cary was happy as can be listening to Lester read "Click Clack Moo."

At some point it dawned on me that Dean was incessantly doing things he shouldn't: throwing toys across the room, disappearing into the kitchen quietly only for me to yell at him to come back in the living room where I could see him, taking things out of my purse -- just generally being mischievous. My patience with him was growing thin, and with every stern word from me, his mood got more and more sour and testy. I was this close from sending him to time-out, when I realized: He wasn't the problem.

So I said, "Hey Dean, why don't you and I do something together?"

The change in his mood was immediate, folks. I mean lightning quick. "OK!" he fairly shouted, as he scanned the room with happy eyes. "How 'bout we ummm....how 'bout we play Legos?!"

Thankfully, Clair was compliant when I put her down on the floor. She happily went over to Lester and Cary, saying "Kik kak MOOOO!"

And I sat on the floor and built castles and houses and tall towers with my boy. 

Dean's love language is Legos.

I showed him how, if you run out of rectangular pieces, you can use two squares to make a rectangle. He showed me how to make a tractor trailer, using a Lego piece that has wheels as the base. When my tall tower was two blocks shorter than his, Dean very sweetly handed me two of his blocks. He was happy as a clam.

Eventually Cary joined us, and Lester went upstairs to run the bathwater. Clair came and sat on my lap, so I had to build my towers around her. But it was fine. Even if only for 15 minutes or so, we had managed to meet everyone's needs -- and the rest of the night was a breeze, without meltdowns or defiance or excessive insanity. (For once!)

God, help me to remember that sometimes  -- not always, but many times -- the best way to correct a child who is heading down the fast lane to Nuisanceville isn't to correct him at all. Instead, the answer might be to correct myself.

From sight words to "reading" words

Cary has been showing signs lately that he really wants to know how to read. He picks up anything he can find with words on it and asks us, "What does this word say? What does this word say?"

I told my Mom -- who has a Master's in early childhood education -- and she told me to start teaching him to recognize simple "sight words," words that every person who can read just recognizes from rote memory, without having to sound out or use context clues to figure out. I looked up "sight words" online and found there were a ton! But my sister, also an educator, told me to focus on the Dolch sight words -- and only on the very, very first level.

So about a month ago I put up this collection of words on the wall in front of their activity table, so they could see it every day.

I put the words up with a different word next to 'my' but had to take it down when Cary said, "Mommy, you forgot 'of'." So I had to write 'of' on a post-it. He now tells me I don't have "he." But I haven't gotten around to getting "he" up there yet.

And every now and then, we'd go over the words. We'd only do a few at a time, and when they got bored, I'd stop. I was really surprised at how quickly they picked up the words, especially Cary. Sometimes, I would even see Cary mouthing the words to himself, on his own. (That boy loves the written word!)

When I talked to Tahira about it, she told me that Cary was ready to start reading and suggested the BOB books. But I looked at them and thought that at 3.5, he just wasn't ready. He can recognize a few words by sight (thus the point of "sight words"), but he can't read. I figured I'd wait until they turned 4.

But last night, we were reading "Green Eggs and Ham," and on a whim, I asked Cary to help me read a couple pages. And I have to say, he did way better than I thought he would, not just recognizing sight words, but remembering the words from (far too) many readings of the book, and also trying to sound some words out. Good ole Dr. Seuss really works!

Not to be outdone, Dean tried his hand at it, too. Bless his heart. :-)

 It is really amazing to see my boys even attempt to read! One of these days, they'll be picking up "Game of Thrones" to read along with me! (At the rate I'm going with Book 2, they might finish the series before I do. Not joking.)

The point is, now I'm considering buying the BOB books, but I'm going to talk to their preschool teachers next week at their parent-teacher conference first. I want to make sure anything I'm doing is helping and not hurting. And I also need tips on how to work with Cary, who is clearly farther ahead than his brother (in this area), without doing any damage to Dean's self-esteem or making him think that reading is "Cary's thing."

Because, really, each of them is doing really great at pre-reading skills, and I'm so, so proud of them both!

*Not sure why these videos aren't working. Grrrr! You'll have to trust me that they're both pretty cute.

What I gleaned from my day on the farm

On Saturday I had to go to a "glean" at a local farm to cover it -- journalist-style -- for a client.

The glean was pretty awesome. The group I was covering, Gather Baltimore, goes to farms and -- after working for an hour or so doing something the farmer needs, like removing stakes and ropes from harvested crops -- gets to go through the "leftover" harvest and pick perfectly useable produce to donate to soup kitchens, homeless shelters and inner-city farm stands.

A photographer and I spent two hours in the cold with the 50 or so volunteers, documenting the glean. We also spent time talking candidly with the farmer - George Zahradka, a man in his 40s whose whole life has been spent farming, and who makes pennies on each head of broccoli or bunch of kale he sells, but works seven days a week, bending and pulling and tilling and irrigating, all so we can eat his hard-earned bounty.

George taught me a lot about the brainwashing of today's consumer, who has been made to believe that potatoes with dirt on them are less desirable than those that are squeaky clean (it's actually the opposite, he says, and hellooo? Potatoes come from the GROUND) or that cauliflower should be snow white, when really it's so much better for you when it's been sun-kissed and has a tinge of yellow. Who knew?

This quaint little farmhouse sat toward the back of the 72-acre-portion of Zahradka Farm. Much to my dismay, the farmer and his family do not actually live in it. They rent the land from the county -- at a cost of nearly $150,000 a year!

And look! Here I am, in front of that little farmhouse. (There's my trusty reporter's notebook on the ground - just like old times!)

I was so humbled by the experience of being out there on that farm; I can't wait until my kids are old enough to get out there with me and work the land a little bit. It certainly makes you respect a whole lot more the people who break their backs to get us good food to eat. And it also gives a whole new respect for the food itself.

As an example, the farmer gave me a gorgeous head of caulifower -- one with a touch of gold from the sun. I admitted to one of the volunteers later that I actually didn't know what to do with it. We didn't really eat cauliflower much growing up, and when we did, it was frozen in a bag and mixed with broccoli or other veggies. As a result, I kinda considered cauliflower a throwaway vegetable, puny and tasteless and not all that exciting.

But the volunteer gave me the easiest and most delicious recipe for roasted cauliflower, which I tried last night. It's just chopped cauliflower, tossed with olive oil, garlic powder and little salt and pepper, and then baked in the oven for 30 minutes on 400-degrees.

It was soooo good, and so easy -- I can't believe I've been ignorant to this for so long! And I explained to the kids that a farmer grew this cauliflower just so people like us could eat it. And that he works really hard to make sure his food is delicious and healthy. It made me feel good to talk to the kids about where the food came from and to actually KNOW the man who grew it.

We are grocery store people; I don't know if that will ever change fully. But I really do want to do more active supporting of our small local farmers -- and more active eating of the delicious real foods they grow.

Maybe a CSA is in our near future!

Great evening at home with the kids

When I got home last night the kids were in dress-up mode.

In honor of Movember, I decided to heighten the fun and add stick-on mustaches to their get-ups. But the Davises were not as enthralled with this idea as I was. 

I had to bribe Cary and Dean to keep theirs on long enough for me to snap a picture, and Clair isn't old enough to understand bribing, so she just cried and then ripped hers off and threw it on the floor.

(Note: That dinosaur costume is really made for someone Clair's size, but Cary refused to take it off all night. He made us all call him "Dinosaur Cary" and he roared at us 'til bedtime.)

Later on in the night, the kids were all "co-wing" -- Clairspeak for "coloring" -- with pens and stray pieces of paper. This happens quite a bit; there's lots of scribbling and pen-poking and usually nothing really worth noting comes out of their artistry.

But last night, Dean drew an actual person! For the first time ever! 

"It's you, Mommy," he said. "On the beach!"

Awwww. I was really very impressed. One of the fascinating things about parenting is watching how children develop. Sometimes you can see things happening gradually, as with Cary right now and pre-reading. And other times, it's scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble, and then BAM! a stick-figure with a head, eyes, legs and curly hair!

And finally, I felt good about our decision to get our butts to church again when this conversation happened:

Clair, climbing up the stairs, whining because she thinks she's going to fall: "Ah fall! Ah fall!"
Me to the boys: "Cary and Dean, go tell your sister she's OK and that she's not going to fall."
Cary: "Clair, it's OK. Don't be scared. God is always with you."

Isn't that so sweet? I don't think Clair bought Cary's encouragement, because I had to stop what I was doing and come get my poor whining girl, frozen on the stairs. But it doesn't matter. I felt so great about Cary (CARY!) rushing to help his sister, and remembering what they're learning in children's church when he did. 

A rare moment of Cary looking sweetly at Clair. Could we be turning a corner?

And then we all had dinner together, all five of us, and there was cookie-cake for dessert, gifted to us by a friend! 

All in all, it was a really, really good night.

(Until I woke up at 4 in the morning in a full-on heart-racing, blood-coursing in my ears, can't regulate my breathing panic. But that's a post for another day.)

Ted the Turkey

Last night, we all went to a pre-school potluck at the boys' school, where we got to eat lots of delicious food and hear the boys' class sing a super cute song about Ted the Turkey.

I think it is so funny how the boys were singing this song at the tops of their lungs in the bed at night when they were supposed to be sleeping, but on stage, they suddenly became bashful.

Bashful or no, aren't these little performances the cutest?! I always feel so proud of my little babies, getting up there in front of everyone and singing so sweetly. I'm so grateful to have them in my life.

I love my little turkeys!

Think inside the box!

I brought a Staples box home from work last night.

They played with this "rocketship" for over an hour.

You can't tell from the picture, but the box has been decorated with elaborate curlycues in black pen, and also lots of tiny holes from them poking the pen into the cardboard. ("It needs more holes, Mommy!" they said, enthusiastically poking away. They even tried poking holes with a crayon, but learned quickly that crayons break if you press them too hard. See? They're learning about FORCE! That's science and I didn't even have to stop fixing dinner for them to learn about it. Yay! But I digress. As usual.)

Anyway, as I am in the middle of making out the list of things to get for the kids for Christmas -- and also collecting lots of great ideas from friends who commented on yesterday's post -- I was glad to be reminded by Cary and Dean last night that sometimes the best toys, and best learning experiences, don't cost a thing.

Trying to beat the writer gene out of my children

OK, the title of this post is very much hyperbole.

I'm not really trying to beat the writer gene out of my children. I don't even know if all three of my children have it. But Lester is a former newspaperman and writer and I am a former newspaper gal and writer. Both of us now work "in communications," which is a euphemism for, "We have no math or science skills."

All respect to my fellow communicators out there, really! There's nothing wrong with being good at communicating; there's a HUGE need in this world for people who can read, write and convey thoughts in a way that people can understand. I totally understand that and appreciate it.
It's just that we want our children to:

1. Get out of our house one day.
2. Get out of our house one day.

And so, we want them to have the confidence and the ability to take on math- and science-related professions, should they so choose. Because that's where the jobs are.

We think that most likely, our kids will be inherently good at language-related stuff, because of their family make-up. My Mom's an excellent writer and a reader (nonfiction, mostly); my Dad's a poet and a voluminous reader (fiction and autobiographies, mostly); my sister Kadija would rather read books than do almost anything. She'll read anything you put in front of her. Tahira, the language arts teacher, is the exact same way. Reading is our common hobby. And there are no shortage of words in our extended family -- well, except when it comes to addressing difficult, inter-personal topics, but that is another story altogether.

Anyway, if our kids are anything like we are, we think we will have to work a little harder at getting them to love math and science, and feel comfortable and confident about their abilities to master those topics. I know when I go to board meetings at the Baltimore Urban Debate League, and the finance people start going over the financials, my brain shuts. off. I pretend like I have a clue what they're saying, or that I understand the confusing columns and rows of figures. But ummm. No. Not even a little.

So, I am really interested in what any of you science and math-y types do with your kids that I might not think to do, being a word-y person.

Already, we've started doing a few very rudimentary "experiments," which have gone over very well with the kids. They call it "doing a science."

One day we did the age-old trick of using food dye to change water in clear plastic cups different colors. Another day we put ice in bowls and watched it turn into water and talked about why cold things melt.

One fun one was putting M&M's in water and watching the colors of the candy leach out into the water, making beautiful colors (I considered this science and art). And then, if we were very patient, we could see the "M" float off into the water (or at least pieces of the "M"). Bonus: When we were done, we got to eat M&M's!

So sad that red dye No. 5 is so darn tasty.

Dean said, "Mommy, it looks like a rainbow!"

When the pack of M&M's was gone, Clair was beside herself. I think we've turned her off of science forever.

We also did a fun experiment where I put a bunch of different fruits and vegetables into a bag, blindfolded the kids and had them guess what they had in their hands just by feeling and smelling.

But I'm running out of ideas that are simple and cheap and not dangerous or over their heads. And I also am not sure what to do to encourage their math skills, besides endless counting of objects. Are there math "projects" we can do with 3-year-olds?

What do you guys do to make math and science fun for your kids? Help me turn these kids into software engineers or venture capitalists or CFOs, please. Or else when they decide they want to be journalists (God help us!) and are still living in our house at age 30, we will blame YOU.

'Till next year, soccer. We'll miss you (sorta)

Soccer ended on Saturday with a parents-vs.-kids game.

Here's four of the 3-year-old teams. There are two more teams not represented. All of these kids were on the field, against me and maybe half a dozen parents. No wonder we got our butts kicked.

I played my heart out at the game. I even (accidentally) kicked the ball into a small child's head. But the kids were too much for us old and tired parents. We didn't actually keep score, but believe me - we lost. Too much running back and forth; not enough caffeine.

But the kids didn't care one bit about who won the game. They didn't even care all that much about the pizza party in the church hall after the game. What did they care about? Trophies!

Clair's like, "I don't have a trophy to lift, so I'll just lift my shirt!"

Three of our teammates missed the last game, and one, Milly, had to leave right after the game for a birthday party. So our team photo looks pretty sad. Expect for Hugo, who looks like the happiest kid ever.

Coach Davis and his family. (Look, my boys are actually smiling!)

Clair was a good soccer sister and supported her family by accessorizing and being super cute.

Soccer balls -- in the hair! Boo-ya!

Go team!

This girl is great at kicking the soccer ball and running around and being energetic. I can't wait until she can play!

I have to say, Lester and I have both been somewhat eager to get through the season so that we could have our Tuesday evenings and Saturday mornings free for awhile -- at least until after the holidays, when we plan to find new things for them to do to keep their little minds and bodies engaged.

We're contemplating swimming lessons in February for the whole family and music classes for Clair on Sunday mornings before church (Sundays in 2014 are going to be crazy long days) and there's always Science Alive on Saturday mornings at the Masonville Cove. The one on Jan. 4th is about worms; I can't wait for that one, since we never did "dig for earthworms after a good rain," per the boys' synapse checklist.

But, honestly, "free time" might just be going the way of the rotary phone. Our weekends are already filling up with friends' events and school activities and work obligations and holiday preparations and library visits and on and on and on.

We learned on Sunday that there are all sorts of great ways to get involved in our new church (something we both really want to do), but most of the activities/classes/ministries meet on weeknights, of course.

And I also have started a list of things to accomplish over the next several weeks (including gather a ton of stuff for Freecycle; sort through the kids' clothes; come up with a reasonable Christmas shopping list and budget, etc.) and every time I turn around, I'm adding something to it.

So, the soccer season has ended, but our calendar is not really all that empty.

But that's OK. The family that runs ragged together stays together, right? The good news is, we're all having a lot of fun. And if I said all this hustle-bustle was a 100-percent drag, I'd be exaggerating by about 90-percent.

I enjoy our busy lives, and doing things with and for my kids. And in this season of gratitude, I'm incredibly grateful that we get this time together. 

Go Team Davis!

Bringing my blog back up-to-date

The last few weeks have been so jam-packed, I haven't had time to properly blog. My goal is to get something down at least five times a week, but that is like a pipe dream, even on the best weeks.

So lots of stuff gets unrecorded, and lots of thoughts get unsaid. But there's nothing to do but to jump right back into it. So here goes.

I'll start with a hodge-podge of things that happened over the course of the last couple weeks or so.

You already saw the kids in their adorable Halloween costumes, but you didn't get to see MOI.

I'm the Queen Bee, y'all. Bzzzz.

Momma Bee went to the boys' school for their Halloween party. While there, I had to be the "kid" and the boys were the teachers. "Sit down, Mommy!" they said. "Criss-cross applesauce!"

Here they are showing me what day of the week it is. I also learned what the weather was. And, if I was very good, I could possibly have gotten to be the line-leader or the door-holder. But I don't remember earning any of those things. I must not have been very good.

Last week, Lester got invited to go to "Thank the elected officials night" at The National Aquarium, even though he's not an elected official. But his boss is, and so we joined him there for a nighttime reception, dolphin show and free rein of the awesome Baltimore aquarium. (If you haven't been, it's really quite nice.)

There were lots of questions about where dolphins go poop (and lots of "ewwwing") and lots of emphatic declarations that jellyfish DO give us jelly, Mommy. "That's why they're called JELLYfish!" Duh.

My favorite is the boysenberry jellyfish. Peach is pretty tasty too.

We got to take home this snapshot of us holding Photoshopped puffins. Cary, who was in no mood to participate with the photographer's requests, was heartbroken when he realized that his pouty refusals to hold his hands out meant he didn't get to 'hold' a puffin when the picture came out. Oh well. Life lesson, Cary. It'll learn ya.

In other news, I'm happy to say, after an October of jam-packed Sundays, we went to the church we like two weekends in a row and pretty much decided we want to join. But first we're going to attend a newcomer's reception this Sunday and ask a few more questions, just to be sure.

I'm excited about possibly joining a church again. But I will be even more glad when Lester and I can both sit in the sanctuary and hear the message together, as opposed to what usually happens: One of us ends up in the lobby with Clair, who refuses to sit still during the lesson and screams bloody murder when we try to leave her in the (very sweet and cute) little nursery. Ugh.

For now, I'll just be happy that we're getting our butts up and getting ourselves to church again. Baby steps, right?

After church last weekend, we ended up going grocery shopping as a family, which we rarely do because hello -- three kids? Wegman's is near the church, so we went there, which was a total blessing! The kids were starving after church, so I took them through the prepared foods section of the grocery store and bought lunch, which we ate upstairs while Lester took the list and shopped.

When the kids were done eating, we just went over and played in the grocery store's children's area until Lester got the car loaded and came back to get us. Easy peasy.

Seriously, whoever came up with the brilliant idea to have a children's area near a dining area, near a bank of bathrooms, upstairs from a huge supermarket -- that person is a bonafide, A No. 1 genius.

We can't afford to shop at Wegman's all the time -- especially when you factor in having to feed the lot of us while we're there, instead of eating lunch at home. But when we have to do it, I'm grateful that we have it as an option. (Also, I made the easiest delicious butternut squash for dinner, thanks to Wegman's handy-dandy "buy a vegetable, we'll dice it for you" service. I love Wegman's!)

And lastly, I have to say how excited I was when Cary came padding into our room yesterday morning (a half-hour before it was time to wake-up, but I'll forgive him) and said, "Look, Mommy." Then, slowly, pointing to each word with his little finger:  'A. Is. For.'"

He read that!

Then he pointed to the alligator and said "Alligator. A. Is For. ALLIGATOR!"

Best 6:15 wake-up call I ever had.

Tomorrow is the end of the soccer season -- there's a parents vs. kids soccer game and a pizza party! Cary and Dean are beside themselves with excitement.

Happy weekend everybody!

The 70s had it right when it comes to peanut butter. But maybe not coffee.

Do you guys remember that coffee commercial from the 70s when a woman is miffed that her husband has a second cup of someone else's coffee, but not hers? "That's funny," she thinks. "Jim (or Bill or Bob or something 70s like that) never has a second cup at home."

Maybe it was Folger's? Let's just say it was.

Well, I had my own Folger's coffee moment yesterday.

Michelle, giving me a recap of her day with the kids: "Oh, I shared some of my peanut butter with them today. They loved it."

Me: "Really? All of them? They always say they don't like peanut butter. Especially Dean."

Michelle: "No, they all loved it."

Me: "Dean, you always tell me you don't like peanut butter."

Dean: "No. I just don't like the peanut butter YOU buy."

This is the moment, folks, where I decided once and for all that children will not die if there's a little bit of yummy stuff added to some of the things they eat. And I'm not a terrible parent if their lips touch sugar sometimes.

And so goodbye ultra-bitter, gritty, oily, made-in-the-woods by free-ranging squirrels peanut butter we usually buy. Hello what Michelle gave them that they actually liked: good old-fashioned Jif.

We'll buy the "natural" Jif, just to make Lester and me feel better, though. Otherwise we'll be judged right out of our Trader Joe's and Whole Foods, organic-everything loving circles.

(I joke. But only a little.)

In pursuit of self-sufficient children

A very wise friend of mine posted this on Facebook last night:

A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to squeeze its body through the tiny hole. Then it stopped, as if it couldn’t go any further. So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and carefully snipped the remaining bits of cocoon. The butterfly emerged easily but it had a swollen body and shriveled wings. The man continued to watch it, expecting that any minute the wings would enlarge and expand enough to support the body. Neither happened. In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around. It was never able to fly.

What the man in his kindness and haste didn’t understand is that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required by the butterfly to get through the opening was a way of forcing the fluid from the body into the wings so that it would be ready for flight once that was achieved. Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our lives. Going through life with no obstacles would cripple us. Without challenges, we will never be as strong as we could have been and we will never fly.

My friend’s takeaway (which I think is spot on) was this: Our “kindness and haste” is really a mask for “control and impatience.” We don’t like to see those we love struggle, but our attempts to make things easy for them really just stunts their growth (maturity). Put down the scissors and pack up the cape. Let them beat their wings; then watch beauty emerge and take flight.

How beautiful and poignant is that?

Change the word “man” in the little parable above to “Mom” and the word “butterfly” to “child,” and you are talking about me.

When toys are “lost” in the house, I always say things to Cary and Dean like, “Children have to keep up with their own things.” But then 10 seconds later, after so much whining, I always stop what I’m doing and look for that thing they can’t find.

I tell them, “Sure, you can get down from the table after eating nothing I’ve fixed. But there will not be any snack before bed.” But then when they say they’re hungry later, I feel PHYSICALLY incapable of refusing them something to eat. I’m like a Mommy-zombie, headed for the kitchen. “Must. Feed. Offspring.”

I totally agree with this post about the best way to praise kids to teach them about commitment and sticking with challenges and not giving up when things get hard:

But when Dean says, “Look at my Lego tower, Mommy!” the first thing out of my mouth is, “That’s an amazing tower! What a great builder you are! Awesome job, Dean.” I  have a really hard time remembering that I’m supposed to be praising the effort, the process, the fact that he didn’t give up the three times the tower fell, but kept going until he was done.

(And I have an even harder time remembering to uphold the rule that THEY are supposed to be the ones on all fours picking up the Legos when they’re through.)

Today I read Laura C.’s great post about this book (which I plan to get and read cover-to-cover): "Cleaning House: A Mom's Twelve Month Experiment to Rid Her House of Youth Entitlement.” 

And I thought about how we do ask the boys to take their plates and utensils off the table after meals, but other than that small responsibility, they tear through the house like maniacs, making fantastic messes and emphatic demands, all, “I don’t LIKE these kind of waffles! I’m too TIRED to put my toys away. I want more milk!”- la–dee-dah-ain’t-life-grand?

Of course I know they’re 3-and-a-half. And this is the perfect time to be la-dee-dah’ing. Life only gets harder as they get older and I want them to be carefree and unburdened now, knowing that they can depend on Lester and me for the things they really need.

It’s the determining what the “things they really need” really are that’s the problem.

Remember my post from a few weeks back about me helicopter-momming my way into Cary getting a reward at school? Ugh. I still think about that from time to time and cringe. This is not the Mom I imagined I would be, folks. When thinking as early marrieds about what good things we wanted our future children to be, the adjective that came up most often was “self-sufficient.”

I told a co-worker that once and she said, “Well, I would think you’d want your children to be happy.” To which I said, “If we help them become self-sufficient, and at some point in their lives they find themselves unhappy (which is bound to happen), then they will know how to figure out what to do to make themselves happy.”

I felt really wise when I said that. Of course, I had zero children then. Wisdom is wasted on the young and well-rested. Hahaha!

But – as with most things – reading and internalizing and reading some more always makes a difference. I'm glad I keep getting reminders through Facebook posts, blogfriends and newspaper articles about this topic. 

I know we can get this right. With God's help, we will make these children self-sufficient if it’s the last thing we do.