"I Can't! My Baby Alligator Just Fall Down!" - And Other Such Stories from N

Sometimes, these things just hit you like 25 pounds of funny and you forget what you were reprimanding, asking, thinking about. Often, it's the things that come out of your own mouth, as I experienced when I worked at the preschool. Never thought you'd ask someone to please stop running around with markers in their mouth with no underpants on? Work with kids. And think again.

I still have some of the funniest things from my pre-school kids on file in my memory.

One little girl walked into school one morning and announced to everyone, her mother in tow, that, "My mommy was naked when she woke up this morning." Sorry mommy.

N and I have our fair share of moments around here too, many of them just completely out of the blue, and as its been awhile since I've done a post like this, I thought I'd catch up over here off the Twittersphere.

Enjoy.

Me: "Come on, you two!"
N: "I can't! My baby alligator just fell."
Me: "Oh no!"
N: "Yeah. Her name Pinnoch-nio."

N(looking up at the Christmas tree): "I need to grow bigger! (runs over to me) Rachel, I need to get bigger!"
Me: "You might if you sat down and ate your lunch!"
N: "I am eating!" Shows a mouthful of food.

N's mom: "Tell Rachel you'll see her later.
N: "Yeah."

N: "This is how you jump over Tipper (dog). We don't step on her. That make her mean."
Me: "Well, it probably hurts her too!"
N: "Yep. That make sense and stuff."

Me (as N and I are snugglin', and she's burying her face in my curls. She does this a lot as she likes to twirl them): "Does my hair smell good or something?"
N: "Your hair smokin'!"

N: "I princess just like you!"
I swear I don't bribe her to tell me that. Bless her heart, she came up with it all her own.

Me: "Morning, N!"
N: "Excuse me, Rachel!"
Me: "Excuse you?"
N: "Excuse me, I just poop again!"

N: "What's this?"
Me: "My zipper."
N: "Let's un-zip."
Me: "No, no, let's not."
N (pulls my dress up): "That your booty!"
Me: "Yep, that's my booty."

N: "I want this sticker for you." Sticks it on my forehead. Hello, Kitty.

Me: "What'd you do at school today?"
N: "Play."
Me: "What kind of things did you play."
N: "I not roll up my bottle."
Me: "Ah. Okay."

N: "Look, look!"
Me: "Oh you're in my boots! Quick let's take a pic to send mommy!"
N: "No. I too falling down."

N: "I not tall just like you, Rachel!"
Not nearly as complimentary as the princess comment.

N: "I not feeling well. You not feeling well?"
Me: "Yeah. Can we watch Cinderella pretty please?"
N: "Okay, nanny. We not feel well."

N: "I don't want to hit M on the head anymore."
Note: she hadn't been hitting him at all at the time, actually, was sitting and coloring quietly. Then volunteered this.

N: "Look at my Christmas!"
Talking about her family's Christmas tree(s).

N: "Why you have messy hair?"
Me: "It's curly. I have curly hair."
N: Why you have curly hair?"
Me: "I don't know, sweetie, I guess I just do!"
N: "No. You have messy hair."


Still yearning for more? Don't worry, N will keep saying things, and I will keep doing my best to record them, but to tide you over, see also my older posts, N Says and Grammar Lessons with N.

Disney's Last Princess - Why Tangled's Rapunzel Is the Studio's Farewell to Fairy Tales

I'm looking at my bookshelf and counting the fairy tales.

A Little Princess
Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass (this would be there had my sister not heisted it)
The Complete Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm
The Classic Fairy Tales
Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister
Beauty
The Book of Fairy and Folk Tales of Ireland

A month ago, twenty glossy children's books on loan from the library stacked tall next to my own fairy tales. In the spirit of conducting research for my own children's book I wish to write, I checked out all of what I could find in the princess genre at one of the local libraries.

I can say with confidence that there are a few more decorating the corners of my childhood bedroom, now stripped nearly bare. Save for two beds, two nightstands, a dresser, and books.

Twenty years ago, and that room would have been filled with much more magic, like shimmering cobwebs of imagination: fairy wands, and wings; princess hats, and petticoats; whispers of dragon's breath and princes.

But in young girl's rooms across our land, fairytale magic has become as flickering a hope as Tinkerbell's last light. For as Disney's "Tangled" - a take on Rapunzel - plays merrily down the street, the animation studio makes plans to abandon the princess and fairy tales motifs.
　　
But across the pond - and throughout the world - all eyes keep watch on a new fairytale princess story: that of Kate Middleton, and her Prince William.

And yet, already it is different.

True, Kate is not of royal blood, marrying a royal - a common theme in the Cinderella, or Bluebeard, tale types.

But she is something that even Lady Di was not: college-educated.

As recently recounted in Time Magazine's feature, "Marriage: What's It Good For," this will be the first royal coupling in England in which the betrothed are equal in education, a high-profile representative of a current trend in Western marriages:

"Modern brides and grooms tend to be older and more similar. In particular, Americans are increasingly marrying people who are on the same socioeconomic and educational level."

Certainly a far cry from princesses waiting around for Prince Charming to rescue them from dire situations. We are no longer locked in towers; "since more women than men have graduated from college for several decades, it's more likely than it used to be that a male college graduate will meet, fall in love with, wed and share the salary of a woman with a degree. Women's advances in education have roughly paralleled the growth of the knowledge economy, so the slice of the family bacon she brings home will be substantial."

What's even more of a change is that we're rescuing ourselves, in a sense:

"Well-off women don't need to stay in a marriage that doesn't make them happy; two-thirds of all divorces, it's estimated, are initiated by wives."

In the past 25 years or so, Disney's princesses have made the move from sweet, trilling pretty faces to strong, independent characters, but the bottom line hasn't changed: these princesses have all needed to be rescued. What has changed, however, is that the men in their lives all required a bit of rescuing as well, somewhat equaling out the dynamic.

Take Ariel, for example: defiant, independent, imaginative girl with dreams and a voice all her own defies her father not simply for the love of the human world, but the love of a man. She becomes mute in order to meet him, and relies on her love to save her from the sea witch, and to elevate her to the world of her dreams.

However, we must not forget that it was Ariel who saved Prince Eric from drowning.

Then there was Jasmine: a fiercely defiant princess, confined by the laws of the land which mandated an arranged marriage, longs to escape palace life. When she does, she meets a pauper boy, who pretends to be a prince, then must defeat the evil Jafar in order to save the princess and her father, so that she can have her happy ending: a love match. This may be a triumph, yes, as she is allowed to choose her husband, something her predecessors have not been able to do, but ultimately, she is still being saved by her man.

Curiously though, Aladdin - the peasant boy and "street rat" is equally saved from his economic situation by Jasmine.

And in the latest princess installment, there was Tiana, of "The Princess and the Frog," whose father always told her that with hard work, her dream of opening a restaurant would someday come true. She meets Naveen as the Frog Prince, a lazy prince whose fortunes are out of reach until he learns to sustain himself, but who is also in danger of being kept a frog forever by the voodoo man.

Tiana teaches Naveen love, patience, and pride in independence, and together, they save each other: they find happiness in love, which turns them human again, and Naveen's fortunes are restored, and Tiana is able to open the restaurant of her dreams (One could even argue that Tiana needed less rescuing than Naveen).

But, "although critically acclaimed, last year's "The Princess and the Frog" was the most poorly performing of Disney's recent fairy tales. In the age of mega-franchises when movies need to appeal to a broad audience to justify a sizable investment, Disney discovered too late the "Princess and the Frog" appealed to too narrow an audience: little girls. This prompted the studio to change the name of its Rapunzel movie to the gender-neutral "Tangled" and shift the lens of its marketing to the film's swashbuckling male costar, Flynn Rider."

But it's not just about attracting boys to the theatres. Apparently, girls' interests have shifted: 

" 'By the time they're 5 or 6, they're not interested in being princesses,' said Dafna Lemish, chairwoman of the radio and TV department at Southern Illinois University and an expert in the role of media in children's lives. 'They're interested in being hot, in being cool. Clearly, they see this is what society values.' (LA Times)."

　
It is true that the fairy tale was born to another world entirely. When the Grimm brothers collected their tales, "they were intent on using the tales to document basic truths about the customs and practices of the German people and on preserving their authentic ties to the oral tradition" (Zipes). And while the brothers employed their own Disney-like editing - "eliminat[ing] erotic and sexual elements that might be offensive to middle-class morality, add[ing] numerous Christian expressions and references, emphasiz[ing] specific role models for male and female protagonists according to the dominant patriarchal code of that time," their belief was that the collection "should be, namely, an Erzeihungsbuch, an educational manual" (Zipes).

These tales - which, while fantastical, where primarily teaching tools - appeared in cultures throughout the world, beyond the realm of the Grimms', but "there is a basic plot structure (what folklorist refer to as a 'tale type') that appears despite rich cultural variation. 'Beauty and the Beast,' for example...has the following episodic structure:

I. The monster as husband
II. Disenchantment of the monster
III. Loss of the husband
IV. Search for the husband
V. Recovery of the husband " (Tatar).

And while a tale such as this may, in these modern days, be "deemed of marginal cultural importance...they must be addressing issues that have a significant social function...In a study of mass-produced fantasies for women, Tania Modleski points out that genres such as the soap-opera, the Gothic novel, and the Harlequin romance 'speak to very real problems and tensions in women's lives. The narrative strategies which have evolved for smoothing over these tensions can tell us much about how women have managed not only to live in oppressive circumstances but to invest their situations with some degree of dignity.' " (Tatar).

These days, it is far less likely for a woman to enter a marriage not knowing her husband, and the relevance of the "Husband as Monster" at first meeting has certainly diminished.

But when you look at Snow White, the existence of jealousy and rivalry among women is still very real to this day. And while "Tangled," has shed it's fairy-tale tropes and trappings, this element still remains:

"The villain, Mother Gothel, isn't the enchantress of the Grimm tale. She's an incarnation of "Mommie Dearest."

In one of the film's musical numbers, "Mother Knows Best," Mother Gothel tells Rapunzel she's "getting kind of chubby" — a line lifted directly from a real-life mother-daughter exchange recounted during a story brainstorming session (LA Times)."

In a world where girls must grow up to hold their own in the world, attractiveness is put in our own hands, not in the family bank hold. There is a new pressure - to be educated, to be successful, to be, yes, "hot," and "cool," and the mean girl dynamic has not left, it has merely shifted. But the face of femininity has indeed changed.

Perhaps it's time, too, to give boys an equal focus in the market, but should we really bid fairy tales adieu, to be redeemed only as classics? Or should we continue to refocus them, so that they are reflective of our culture and time? In my opinion, Disney should continue to make their fairy tale films more like "Tangled," but as the axe has been brought down on projects like "The Snow Queen," and "Jack and the Beanstalk" (a very un-princessy fairy tale), we'll be getting more robots and super heroes for the time being.

In this house, fairy tale princess dresses hang next to commonplace coats, and Tiana, Belle, Ariel, Jasmine, Aurora are household names. N is two, going on three in January and doesn't show signs of giving up on princesses anytime soon. She likes to twirl my curls, and brush my hair, and when she's finished, will pat my head and call me a "princess," a word she's associated with being pretty and feminine. Dresses and skirts make one a princess as well, as do painted nails. The girliest of girls - much like me when I was her age - will she grow up out of this as her peers do? If Disney has anything to say about it, yes.　


Sources:
"Disney: After 'Tangled,' Disney Animation is Closing the Book on Fairy Tales" - Dawn C. Chmielewski and Claudia Eller, Los Angeles Times, November 21, 2010
"Marriage: What's It Good For?" - Belinda Luscombe, Time Magazine, November 29, 2010
The Classic Fairy Tales - a Norton Critical Edition, edited by Maria Tatar
The Complete Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm, translated by Jack Zipes

What if Real Life was just like Preschool?

Then we'd all be a lot happier. I mean, I'm just sayin'.

Nick Jr runs these ads centered around this idea. I searched and searched for a video, but alas, came up empty-handed so unfortunately you'll have to rely on my word-smithing to catch the idea.

Scenario 1: A mail clerk is attempting to make his rounds in your typical office, but as he calls out name after name, there's no responses. Nobody's sitting at their desk, cubicles are all empty, lights are off. Finally, a snore draws his gaze downwards, to the hard-working, suit-clad workers snoozing under their desks, teddy bears, blankies, thumb-sucking and all.

Wouldn't it be great if life was like preschool? There'd be naptime.

Scenario 2: A bustling surgery, doctors calling for scalpels, etc. For their tinkertoy creation, that is.

Wouldn't it be great if life was like preschool? There'd be arts and crafts.


You get the picture. There's a also a few in a mechanics shop involving story time and a class pet. These all make me smile, of course, but also give me pause, because in a lot of ways, my life is like preschool (even more so than when I worked in a preschool, actually):

1) There's naptime. Sweet, sweet naptime. Currently, M still takes a morning nap, and both M & N nap in the afternoon, giving me ample to time to recover, rest, take some quiet time of my own, and occasionally (okay, pretty much all the time) work on my other projects, of which there are many. But sometimes, if I really want to, I can close my eyes and enjoy the peace and quiet. Or watch endless Glee videos. Whichever.

I personally think America's working hours are too long - when I was in Dublin, I worked 10-4. And I gleefully walked to work everyday. Now, I loved my internship, but, I also never got burnt out, and neither did the editor. I love the Spanish idea of a siesta as well. There's been many a study about how productivity lags in the afternoons, and how Americans are putting in more and more hours, but getting less accomplished. Efficiency in shorter hours. When I have my pie shop / boutique, we just might have siesta time.

2) There's arts and crafts. Not just the kind N likes to do, which mean I come home and find dried playdough, beads, and hair elastics hiding inside my clothes, or marker on my nose. No, I've been lucky enough to find a group of artistically inclined girls and form a Craft Night - which makes us sound like a bunch of old biddies knitting and gossiping, but really, it's a bunch of wildly talented visual artists (and me) inspiring each other with the creative work they get up to when they're not doin' the daily grind. I love it.

3) There's storytime. Hellooo, blogging, writing, reading "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" a thousand times, memorizing "Goodnight Moon?" My parents nicknamed me "Belle" when I was little and this had entirely to do with the fact that I could be caught reading while brushing my teeth, walking, eating, watching tv, riding in the car, in the shower (I still do this, I read and re-read the back of all my bottles and what-not) - anywhere I could read, I would. My life is storytime because I am so caught up in language and literature. My imagination's vivid. And I'm always daydreaming.

4) There's a balance between worktime and playtime. Of course there's that old adage, "All work and no play makes Jack a dully boy," and then the European sentiment, "Work to live, don't live to work," but I saw this balance quite evident when I was working at a Montessori preschool. In Montessori, there is work, and while it may take on the appearance of toys, it is always exercises in counting, motor skills, letter learning, etc. but this is always balanced with playtime at other times of the day. Elementary school was like this, you had math, science, social studies, but you also had recess, music, art, P.E.

My life is exceptionally balanced in this way I find because taking care of the kids is both work and play, when they nap, I get a break for my own work and play time, and then I break up my evenings and weekends with work/writing time, gym time (which with my upcoming dance classes will be play time too), friend time, volunteer time, dating time, craft time, future planning time, music time, family time, cooking time, collapsing face first into my bed and turning off my phone time...

Okay, so sometimes, I add way too much onto my plate. I've always done this. I'm interested in doing too much. My life has become about finding a way to balance this, structure this, and to be able to do it all. Up next on my reading list is a book, "The Renaissance Soul: Life Design for People with Too Many Passions to Pick Just One," which, as you can read in the title, is all about figuring out how to accomplish all of these things. Recently, it's become about realizing different goals and projects should be tackled at different times in my life, not all at once.

5) There's always room for imagination. This goes back to everything I've mentioned above, the stories, the varied interests, the dreaming...fashion has a lot to do with this. It's dress up time, yes, and call me crazy, but I feel empowered when I love what I'm wearing (which tends to be always). And that's important for a nanny with a college degree. It's one of the reasons I go to the gym: I feel empowered when I feel strong, and I love feeling strong, always have.

Preschool is all about playing make-believe, which imitates real life. And what is the life of a twenty-something but that? We've just been thrusted out of a lifetime of school, into this "real world" thing, and I know but few people my age who really know what they want out of life. We're all trying new paths, new jobs, new hobbies, new people, and just trying to figure it all out. Some people know what they want and are figuring out how to get there. Others, have an inkling, or have no idea, but again, are figuring out how to figure that out and get there. We're all toddlers and pre-schoolers out here in the real world, learning how to walk, talk, and live. And with practice and play, we'll get it right.



What are your pre-life ambitions? Experiments? Hardships? I'd love to hear.

N Says

As I go off tonight to embark on training to become a literacy tutor (after an embarrassing snafu last night, as I apparently, the would-be tutor, can't read an e-mail, and showed up a night early...) my mind is on language. My assignment for tonight centered around phonemes, blended consonants, and all of that good stuff. I vaguely remember this from a History of the English Language class I took in college, but what this really calls to mind is my poetry professor's waxing (ha) on the sounds of language. The sounds of words. Poetry was a crash course in a love affair with speaking slowly and taking the time to listen, to let the syllables melt and drip over your tongue, your teeth, feeling their weight, or their airiness. It's true that one of the reasons I love to write is because I love to play: with word order, with juxtaposition of sounds, with meanings. And all of a sudden, I find myself surrounded by people - both toddlers and adults - who are just learning to listen to those sounds.

M, at 15 months, is extremely vocal, though non-verbal. But he loves to make certain sounds and hear himself do this. We had a play-date at the park with my friend, J, and her adorable son, C, who is just 11 months. And as we pushed the two side by side in swings, it struck me, how each baby seems to have his or her own unique non-verbalisation. M is extremely fond of making these glottal noises in the back of his throat, for example.

And then there's N, who's very vocal about nearly everything, but still very much learning the language. A typical sentence of hers might be: "Her not have pink." She hasn't yet learned to recognize the difference in pronouns, so it's something we work on, but, she is 2, after all. She adopts particular phrases that she loves to use in any situation, or words - "poop" is a favorite for just about everything, as is, "Whoa, dude!" Yet she still converses with M in his little language, or, at least, imitates it (I still have no idea if they have some sort of understanding of what he's saying or not) and frequently uses onomatopoeia. "Sook sook," is a recent one that is used with such variety that I haven't quite figured out it's true meaning, if it has one.

Where am I going with this? When it comes to writing, to anything in life, really, I find that children inspire me. They have an uncanny way of revealing truths, and have not yet learned to shield, or control, their emotions. I think this is very good. So much so that I've found a focus for a collection of short stories centering around revealing childhood stories that friends, acquaintances, and so forth have told me (you can read one, Sweet Baby James, published here, as it were.

One of my favorite moments with N happened when she was playing with her brother in the living room, and I got up to go do something in the kitchen. As I turned the corner, she came flying up, huge grin, arms open, halfway in the air, yelling, "I need Rachel right now!" And as I turned to lift her up, she gave me the biggest, sweetest, tightest hug you ever saw. "I need you too, sweet pea," I said. I tear up at, well, a lot of things, but still, that moment brought tears to my eyes, and validation to my heart, as it does now as I write this.

So I've been steadily keeping track the past month or so of the funny, adorable, and sweet things N says, some of which ring with such resonance. I often tweet these things, but in case you've missed them, here they all are collected:

Me: "We all have little colds, don't we? But I think yours is getting better!"
N (crinkles her nose): "Um, sure."
Me: "Well perhaps not."

This remark happens nearly daily:
N: You have booty, Rachel? That's your booty! I touching your booty!
Me: Yes, I noticed.

N: "I just pink right now."

N: "Hey Rachel, you got messy hair right now."
Me (as I strive to fix it): "Oh do I? Is that better?"
N: "Hmm."

N: "The leaves are falling down. Where they going?"

Me: "I think you're being a little bossy today, N!"
N: "Noooo I not!"
Me: "Yes, I think you are!"
N: "Nooo I not being bossy! I being Mommy!"

Me: "Okay N, lunch is almost ready!"
N: "Haauuuumm oookaaaay."

Note: After I drove to work one day with bird poop on N's window, we spent a week discussing why it was there, what it was, why birdies poop on cars, why birdies live in trees, and so many more "why's." The following is one of the choicest quotes of the week, a running monologue from the back seat:

N: "I potty in the toilet, birdies poop on the car. Your car dirty? Birdy do that. M, no, we don't poop on the car! We go in the potty!"

N: "You not have a bow in your hair today? Why not?"
Me: "Well, I don't know!"
N: "I have a bow in my hair. You wear one again? Tomorrow? Hooray!"

Me: "Please don't chew on my button, N. It's really not very nice. Nor good for your teeth!"
N: "It is! I do it! I do it every morning!"

(At the park, from the top of the playground set) N: "HI RACHEL! LOOK AT ME RACHEL! WATCH THIS RACHEL! YOU A PRINCESS RACHEL!"

Me: "How's that thumb taste, N?"
N (as it's placed smackingly in her mouth to stay): "Icky!"

N: "I want a car!"
Me: "Can we say please? What kind of car?"
N: "A pink one!"
Me: "Oh? And where will you go in your pink car?"
N: "I go to the store! I go to the store to buy chocolate milk!"

N: "I want my lipstick."
Me: "You don't want your snack?"
N: "No, I just want my lipstick."

Note: We're big fans of Pandora (although it's been increasingly difficult to explain why I cannot force the Disney station to only play Cinderella, Belle, and Ariel) and one of N's favorite stations is the Gaelic Storm station, which plays largely traditional Irish music. She calls it "her" music. So we like to put "N's" music on and dance.

N (as she's crouching down, "booty" stuck in the air, and shaking it): "This music make my booty go like this."

Me (as N wipes her runny nose on my shoulder): "Do you need a tissue, N?"
N: "No."
Me (as she continues to wipe her nose on me): "I think you might. 'Cause I'm not a tissue."
N: "No. You a tissue!"
Me: "No, I'm really not. I don't want to be!"
N: Yes you do! You want to! You want to be tissue!"

N: "You nanny. Is Mommy nanny?"
Me: "No, Mommy's mommy."
N: "Whoa dude!"

N (surveying the aftermath of M's lunch, which was largely all over the floor): "Too icky."

N: "We teach M, Rachel."

Pour les Enfants: Stella McCartney Kids!

"I eat doughnuts, man, I eat doughnuts."

Ah! File this under if I would, I could: buy M&N some Stella McCartney Kids. Besides watching this adorably fun video, oh, maybe ten times this morning (and there will be more viewings to come. perhaps even a downloading of the song. which we'll add to our afternoon dance sessions), I've scoped out the seriously awesome and adorable kidswear to be found at http://www.stellamccartneykids.com/.

There's also a handy-dandy "Creat a Look" feature on the website, so of course, while M sleeps peacefully, and N learns away at school, I've taken it upon myself to pick out what I would dress them in (totally in my job description. Both of them). Um, yeah. If you follow me on Twitter, you'll probably be seeing a lot of these tweets (promise: they're adorable!). There's also a "Playground" with downloadables, such as lullabies and videos. Well done, Miss McCartney. And now, here are a few of my picks for M & N:

Pour M (15 months, male):

Don't you try to tell me footies aren't the most adorable things on earth. Stella's versions are organic cotton.

Awww baby sweater



Pour N (will soon be 3, female):

I just love grown-up looking clothes on children. I'd wear this.

Another item I would wear! I really do love grown-up clothes cut for kids. I remember seeing once where now-designers Mary-Kate and Ashley Olson (obsession of my generation) used to have designer clothes cut down to their size. Grown-up clothes are fun too.

I love that the softness of the palette seems to coincide with the softness of the materials used: organic cotton and cotton blends, wool and cashmere... Everything just seems so cute and comfy and cozy.

Should you have both the children and the budget (or, if you, like me, have neither, but are infinitely curious) visit http://www.stellamccartneykids.com/ - shipping is free (on orders over $90 - not hard to do...) through November 15, so I'm advising to just complete your Christmas shopping in one fell swoop.

Adventures in Nannying

Being a girl whose "Secret Single Behavior" is to paint my nails in bed, whilst wearing a tiara and watching "Breakfast at Tiffany's," I always figured I'd be the kind of mom who let her daughter wear princess dresses everywhere, and pink cowboy boots with said princess dresses, and my son, firefighter jackets or froggy rainboots everywhere or whatever their imaginations and senses of style choose. And the rule seems to apply to nannying too.

Well, sort of.

When I first started, I was so very aware that These Are Not My Kids. In other words, don't screw 'em up, and make sure they look nice in public. (Not that I plan on screwing my own kids up, of course. I don't know that it's more pressure when They're Not Your Kids, just a different kind).

Then there's differences in discipline styles, teaching styles, things you would let go that they wouldn't, and vice versa - all of this can make for a very uptight nanny!

No, but M & N's parents are very easy-going and love to say, they're not perfect parents, they don't do everything right (and neither do those judgy-wudgy moms at the park). And perhaps it just took some time to get used to the schedules and routines, and for N to test me to see what she could and couldn't get away with (we're still working hard on the "pleases," for example), but I finally remembered, they're kids, they should have fun. Yes, there are rules and you're there to teach them, oh, just about everything there is to life, but, tutus may be worn to the park with tennis shoes and strawberries blown on arms at lunches out. So what?

Last week, we had been asked to make birthday gifts for M & N's birthday that day, and as we were scrambling to make it out to the craft supply and get back and make gifts in between naps that day, I sent N off to put her shoes on while I strapped M in his carrier.

It's August in Kansas City, and that means 90+ degree weather, right? Now, I spent some time trying to convince N she would be cooler in flip-flops, but, in the end, I thought, what the heck. We'd mostly be in the car and the store and inside anyhow. Here's what she put on:

These were paired with black patent leather mary-janes, which were promptly taken off in the car, after jumping in a puddle in the parking lot. Oops!

She came tapping up to me and said, "I got my socks and shoes on, I ready to go!"

That is what I had asked her to do! And in the name of letting them do it themselves, sometimes, you have to go into the world with one reindeer sock, and the other, pulled up to your knee.




P.S. N started school today! I have bittersweet feelings about this. It will certainly be quieter, which is both good and bad. There will be more time for me to work on my projects (though I have a feeling M is working on dropping his morning nap soon), which is good. And, as my mom reminded me the other evening, I've never not liked quiet time (apparently, when my sister was still napping, but I no longer was, she used to send me into my room for quiet time and I very happily played quietly with my books and toys for lengthy periods of time).

M is getting to be very mobile and loves to explore, and we will most certainly get out and do lots, but he's still in the baby talk, and, well, I'm going to miss N! Sure, there'll be less toddler tantrums, and there will be more time for M, but, there will also be less N.

Adventures in Nannying - Farmer's Market Fun!

The thing about nannying, or working with kids in any capacity I suppose, is that one day, you think, yes, I’ve got it! I have the baby, M, on my lap and I’ve fixed his bottle with one hand and am now feeding him, while eating ice cream with the other hand, and having conversations with an adult and M's two-year-old sister, N, all at the same time! I’m so good.


And then the next, you’re having an argument - a battle - no, a discussion with said two-year-old about how much toilet paper is the appropriate amount and yes, we need to pull up our panties and if you can’t do it yourself, then I will have to do it for you. And I know you like to do everything for yourself. (Except when you don't).

And when that happens, perhaps it’s time to just get out of the house. I try to have activities planned for them to do at least a few days out of the week, and in this heat, it’s generally been go to the pool or someplace indoors with air conditioning.

But, last week, we went to the farmer’s market. And, we loved it.

Now, the Old Overland Park Farmer's Market is someplace I've been going since I was a kid with my own mother - who I very often have to thank for all the ideas I've had so far as a nanny. It's a great place for N, because each week there's different foods to learn about, different colors to name, lots of things to count - for example, she really loves holding the money and helping me count it out.

Last week, swing/ hot jazz band the Grand Marquis were there, and, after we picked up some blueberries and peaches, N's attention was definitely drawn to the music up at the clock tower. So we went up, got M out of his stroller, and we danced - even M! - played in the splash fountain, snacked on farm-fresh blueberries - it was a perfect, lazy, late-summer morning. We didn't want to leave.

This week, though N searched, there were no blueberries, but she ate an entire peach (!) and helped pick out sweet potatoes and green beans. I bought some fresh basil for myself and while she didn't like the taste, she loved smelling the bunch. Dan Bliss was there playing blues and folk, and I think we were just about the last of the children to leave.

But on days like that, I don't mind if we get home to nap a little late. Developing their interests in music is so important and N has really come out of her shell with people around there, even asking another little girl to dance with her this time. And M, who is 11 1/2 months and very mobile, is having a ball "dancing" - wiggling a lot - and clapping with the audience.

N with a fresh locally grown peach, and Dan Bliss in the background.