When Joe goes to swimming, Clara goes to The Little Gym. At The Little Gym, she (and Julie) are enrolled in the final parent-child class: Super Beasts. One of Clara's fellow former Beasts made the transition with her--a girl named Pauline. Clara and Pauline are two of four girls. The rest of the Super Beasts are strapping young lads--and they are strapping. But Our Birdie is no shrinking violet.
Case in point, this past Saturday, the first skill of the class was to sit on top of a bar that was perhaps three or four feet off the ground and, if comfortable, flip over it to return to sitting--with a spot. Clara was all about it, until she got up on the bar and then she was like, "You get me off of this now." But the first great thing was she tried! She was all about it.
But the second great thing that happened was that after she got off, and after she and Julie had watched another Super Beastie sit up there, she marched herself back up to Teacher Stephanie to say she wanted to give it another go--!!!!! Which she did. And she sat, and she flipped.
All of this was after she had sat with Julie on the Air Trac* as it was inflated and then jumped and forward rolled (somersaulted--The Little Gym people use proper gymnastics terminology) her way down it like she was Mary Lou Retton in the making. (The Air Trac looks like all kinds of fun to 30-plus-year-old eyes, but to even the Super Beasts set, it can look intimidating.)
Sometimes, it's tough to give things a go, to get back up again when they don't go the way you thought they would, and then give them another go. Birdie already seems to know that this way is the only way, really, to roll. She's kind of an inspiration.
*Imagine an slice of a track that you would run on, inflated, maybe two feet off the ground.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Radiator Springs
A few months ago, Ted was walking the aisles of Menards to see where he might "save big money" when he happened upon a giant roll of kraft paper for about $10. Although it is intended for covering floors during painting jobs, he thought it might come in handy for some art fun some day. Well, on a cold winter weekend day that dream came true. During quiet time, Ted and Joe set out to recreate Radiator Springs (the town from the Cars movie for those of you unfamiliar) in 2D. There was a race track, Flo's V8 Diner, The Cozy Cone Motel, and Luigi's Tire Shop. Joe cut out lots of circles to make tires, Ted sketched out all the characters (from online pictures) on paper for Joe to cut out, and Joe taped the cars around the race track and his tires along Route 66. It was a fun activity, so we of course wanted to keep it, but it was placed in the highest traffic part of the house. So we spent a week stepping all over Radiator Springs before Joe agreed this past weekend to take it down.
But no sooner was it taken down then Ted decided he and Joe needed some decorations for their family Super Bowl party. So they set out to make a football field which you see here. On the right are a bunch of stick figure people in the stands, and in the upper left is our "squares" bet (Joe won Q1 and Q2, Julie Q3, and Ted the Final Score). You will notice everyone is intently watching the tv, but they are watching the "Puppy Bowl" As soon as the football game came on the kids opted to go into their room and watch some of the Cars movie on the iPad. It was still a fun party though!
But no sooner was it taken down then Ted decided he and Joe needed some decorations for their family Super Bowl party. So they set out to make a football field which you see here. On the right are a bunch of stick figure people in the stands, and in the upper left is our "squares" bet (Joe won Q1 and Q2, Julie Q3, and Ted the Final Score). You will notice everyone is intently watching the tv, but they are watching the "Puppy Bowl" As soon as the football game came on the kids opted to go into their room and watch some of the Cars movie on the iPad. It was still a fun party though!
Monday, February 4, 2013
Mama and Papa Got a Brand New Bag
Today may have been the start of something new, Fans. For a long time, we were a one-car family and perhaps because of that, we all left the house together, dropped off the bambino (and then the bambini) together, before continuing on to downtown Minneapolis where Ted got out and Julie continued on across the river to St. Paul. Evening found us doing the whole thing in reverse.
We were always tweaking the morning routine in an effort to try and push up the departure time so that Julie could arrive at work such that she could leave at 4pm in the attendant effort to collect the bambini at 5pm instead of 6pm, all to little avail. Julie found herself leaving work most days feeling like she was shortchanging everything and everyone--her work, the bambini, Ted, and herself. For Julie, it was just a short hop-skip-and-a-jump to feeling like she'd failed on all fronts which is exactly where she found herself Friday evening when she left work shortly before 5pm, as a decently heavy snow had just begun to fall which only increased the probability that she would not collect Ted and the bambini in time to make it out to dinner before everyone else in the Twin Cities arrived for dinner out on a snowy Friday night.
It is, of course, ridiculous to feel like a failure on all fronts in such circumstances, but in her defense, we would note that we live in a world in which Sheryl Sanberg is celebrated for leaving work every day at 5:30pm--a time that is just slightly beyond the end of the quote-unquote normal 8-to-5 workday--and for her "lean in" rallying cry. A cry which contains some truth but not so much that it should be used (as it so often is in this author's opinion) to excuse the collective failure of American workplaces to figure out how to encourage, support, and promote employees who are members of two-parent families be they mothers, or fathers. Humph.
So there we were: Julie, feeling like a failure, gnashing her teeth at Sheryl and Oprah, a two-woman veritable Greek chorus, telling her that if only she could lean in and self-actualize enough then she could leave "on time" and manage to exercise for at least 30 minutes before joining her family for a nutritious meal after which she will prep her breakfast of steel-cut oatmeal and yogurt to be enjoyed the next morning after tossing in a load of laundry and brushing the dog's teeth while birdies lay out the children's clothing; Ted, wondering why Julie didn't just call to say she was running late because he wants to solve the problem!; Julie, wondering why Ted didn't understand that although she would also like to solve the problem, she would also like to be told that even though there was a problem to solve, she was still a triumph for trying to self-actualize and avoid said problem!; Ted, wondering how he seemed to have landed in an O or Real Simple magazine article.
It was time for a new tack. (Obviously.)
So, after years of commuting together, we are going to try commuting separately. Julie will leave the house by 7am after getting the bambini dressed (and herself!) in order to get herself to work by 7:30am. Ted will drive himself to work, and drop the bambini off on his way. Julie will then leave for home at 4pm, collecting the bambini on her way.
We gave it a go today. When Julie arrived to collect Joe, he dashed to his take-home folder and handed her this card which he had made for her this afternoon.
Fans, that orange object (in case it isn't obvious) is a vacuum cleaner (the horizontal lines on either side are "the rugs"). So while Julie may feel like a failure on many a day, clearly she is nailing one thing: keeping the floors clean. And this week, she managed that by asking Ted if she could trade him doing the house cleaning for doing the week's shopping. Uh huh! That's right. Figuring a way to brush Berenice's teeth on a regular basis should be a snap! We are so self-actualized here at Raleigh House.
But here is the glory, Fans: Joe handed Julie a card he'd made that very afternoon when she arrived to pick him and Birdie up, just before 5pm, before they headed for home before the sun had gone down, where they found Ted already making dinner, and everyone tumbled out of their shoes and coats without anyone snipping or yelling, because there was even time to play for a bit before dinner, which they did.
We were always tweaking the morning routine in an effort to try and push up the departure time so that Julie could arrive at work such that she could leave at 4pm in the attendant effort to collect the bambini at 5pm instead of 6pm, all to little avail. Julie found herself leaving work most days feeling like she was shortchanging everything and everyone--her work, the bambini, Ted, and herself. For Julie, it was just a short hop-skip-and-a-jump to feeling like she'd failed on all fronts which is exactly where she found herself Friday evening when she left work shortly before 5pm, as a decently heavy snow had just begun to fall which only increased the probability that she would not collect Ted and the bambini in time to make it out to dinner before everyone else in the Twin Cities arrived for dinner out on a snowy Friday night.
It is, of course, ridiculous to feel like a failure on all fronts in such circumstances, but in her defense, we would note that we live in a world in which Sheryl Sanberg is celebrated for leaving work every day at 5:30pm--a time that is just slightly beyond the end of the quote-unquote normal 8-to-5 workday--and for her "lean in" rallying cry. A cry which contains some truth but not so much that it should be used (as it so often is in this author's opinion) to excuse the collective failure of American workplaces to figure out how to encourage, support, and promote employees who are members of two-parent families be they mothers, or fathers. Humph.
So there we were: Julie, feeling like a failure, gnashing her teeth at Sheryl and Oprah, a two-woman veritable Greek chorus, telling her that if only she could lean in and self-actualize enough then she could leave "on time" and manage to exercise for at least 30 minutes before joining her family for a nutritious meal after which she will prep her breakfast of steel-cut oatmeal and yogurt to be enjoyed the next morning after tossing in a load of laundry and brushing the dog's teeth while birdies lay out the children's clothing; Ted, wondering why Julie didn't just call to say she was running late because he wants to solve the problem!; Julie, wondering why Ted didn't understand that although she would also like to solve the problem, she would also like to be told that even though there was a problem to solve, she was still a triumph for trying to self-actualize and avoid said problem!; Ted, wondering how he seemed to have landed in an O or Real Simple magazine article.
It was time for a new tack. (Obviously.)
So, after years of commuting together, we are going to try commuting separately. Julie will leave the house by 7am after getting the bambini dressed (and herself!) in order to get herself to work by 7:30am. Ted will drive himself to work, and drop the bambini off on his way. Julie will then leave for home at 4pm, collecting the bambini on her way.
We gave it a go today. When Julie arrived to collect Joe, he dashed to his take-home folder and handed her this card which he had made for her this afternoon.
Fans, that orange object (in case it isn't obvious) is a vacuum cleaner (the horizontal lines on either side are "the rugs"). So while Julie may feel like a failure on many a day, clearly she is nailing one thing: keeping the floors clean. And this week, she managed that by asking Ted if she could trade him doing the house cleaning for doing the week's shopping. Uh huh! That's right. Figuring a way to brush Berenice's teeth on a regular basis should be a snap! We are so self-actualized here at Raleigh House.
But here is the glory, Fans: Joe handed Julie a card he'd made that very afternoon when she arrived to pick him and Birdie up, just before 5pm, before they headed for home before the sun had gone down, where they found Ted already making dinner, and everyone tumbled out of their shoes and coats without anyone snipping or yelling, because there was even time to play for a bit before dinner, which they did.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
The Ox-Cart Man
Clara has another man in her life. (Readers! We know! She's terribly darling though after all. She's got to play the field.) When Birdie is done with Harold (he goes to bed really early after all--kind of a wet blanket), she moves on to The Ox-Cart Man. The Ox-Cart Man: older, rugged, solid--a provider. Walking all the way to Portsmouth Market with all manner of things to sell so that he can bring home all kinds of delightful wares for the family to use throughout the winter and spring before he walks off to Portsmouth Market again the following fall. Sigh. It's true. The Ox-Cart Man already has a family. Clara, pointing to the Ox-Cart Man's wife: "What's this guy?" And to his son--and daughter: "What's this guy?" As if the use of the interrogative pronoun that doesn't refer to a person will make them less real!
The Ox-Cart Man has an ox (imagine!), which, actually, he sells, in Portsmouth Market. He's not really as heartless as that makes him sound though. When he sells his ox, he kisses him good-bye on his nose. When Julie reads this bit, she kisses Clara's nose--and Joe's, if he happens to be about.
Clara has, of late, been figuring out what's what with kissing. When Julie tucks Clara in, she will kiss each of Birdie's cheeks, and sometimes Birdie's forehead or nose. One night, Clara surprised Julie by grabbing her face and starting to pull her in for kiss on the mouth. Birdie kissing Julie on the mouth wouldn't have been quite the end of the world, but given that Clara has two fictional men on the string, Julie felt it prudent to let Clara know that only Mommies and Daddies and kiss on the mouth.
The Ox-Cart Man has an ox (imagine!), which, actually, he sells, in Portsmouth Market. He's not really as heartless as that makes him sound though. When he sells his ox, he kisses him good-bye on his nose. When Julie reads this bit, she kisses Clara's nose--and Joe's, if he happens to be about.
Clara has, of late, been figuring out what's what with kissing. When Julie tucks Clara in, she will kiss each of Birdie's cheeks, and sometimes Birdie's forehead or nose. One night, Clara surprised Julie by grabbing her face and starting to pull her in for kiss on the mouth. Birdie kissing Julie on the mouth wouldn't have been quite the end of the world, but given that Clara has two fictional men on the string, Julie felt it prudent to let Clara know that only Mommies and Daddies and kiss on the mouth.
Harold
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| After Reading |
So we read Harold a fair amount these days, and each reading is bookended by some rather charming patter from Birdie. At the beginning, before Harold has caught sight of Birdie and begins drawing to impress, he's just scribbling away. Clara: "Scribbles! This is scribbles!" Guess which word she's recently learned, Brigade?
Toward the middle, Joe will almost always point out that the balloon Harold draws after falling off the mountain he's drawn, and the attendant basket, is a hot air balloon, not a balloon-basket. Harold does not actually call his balloon a balloon-basket, though it is also true that he does not call it a hot air balloon. No favors for Harold from Joe, though.
At the end of Harold's journey, as you may know Dearest Readers, he has found his way back to his bedroom. Once there, he makes his bed, gets in it, draws up the covers*, and drops his purple crayon on the floor before dropping off to sleep. Clara: "We don't sleep with crayons! Only animals!" (Frankly, this is not such a bad rule for Our Birdie--and Our Hero--to have in mind for a number of years to come.) Fans, you cannot see Harold's animals, but we've discussed it, and we believe that he has them. They just aren't pictured.
They might be yellow. He might need a different crayon.
*This is easily--easily--the book's cleverest line. Julie always wonders if Crockett wrote the book because he thought up this line first.
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