My Kindergartener took a field trip Monday. Four Kindergarten classes made a pilgrimage, aboard two bright yellow school buses, downtown to a large performance theater to see the play Nate The Great. It sounds as if it was a wonderful production. Not seeing it first hand, however, it pales in comparison to our own little post field trip drama.
As I picked Abi up after the trip, she said, "Mommy! Someone else in school, a kid from the afternoon class, has my same backpack!"
"Well, I'm sure it's not EXACTLY the same," I said, skeptically. We're in the middle of Colorado. I didn't imagine many parents online ordered backpacks from LLBean across the country like I did. Though it was possible...
"It WAS!" she said. "RED. LLBEAN... and it even had my name on it!!"
"Really?! It was.... wait, what? Abigail, let me see the bag on your back."
She handed me the bag. Red. LLBean. There was no monogrammed 'Abigail' on the back. It was so surreal that I had to do a personal rewind.
I DID get her backpack monogrammed with her name on it close to a year ago, didn't I? Wait, OF COURSE I did! That's why that other kid's backpack had the name Abigail on it! That's why I'm standing here holding this backpack, rubbing the back of it like a genie lamp, waiting for the monogramming to magically appear. Pull it together, Melis!
I glanced inside the backpack and noted that indeed, the papers inside did not belong to my Abigail.
Well, when you're a kid, new to the whole school scene, I imagine you cling to certain things. For as many times as I holler, "don't forget your backpack!" I think it eventually becomes something of a security blanket. Every morning, the snack goes in. Every snack time, the snack comes out. Every dismissal time, the cubby contents get tucked inside. Every day after school, we get in the car and go through the day's important work and notices before even leaving the parking lot. Then suddenly- it's gone- replaced by this strange impostor, lacking a monogram. Her world shifted on its axis.
We returned the wrong bag to the Kindergarten classroom to await it's afternoon class owner. The darling teachers, seeing Abi so upset, called the owner of the impostor bag, and informed them of the mix up. I assured Abi and the teachers that we would be fine waiting until the following day for the bag. Abi's bag was returned to the school that afternoon, however, and the classroom paraprofessional, who lives around the corner from us, thrilled little Abi by dropping the bag off that very afternoon. Teachers have a knack for understanding kid drama better than the average bear, I think.
So, by day's end, all of the wrongs had been righted, and the snacks would have their proper place for stashing in the morning hours... and I was able to assert a lesson I had taken for granted...
"Abi, if someone is carrying a backpack that is the same color as yours, from the same place as yours, and the backpack has your name on it... chances are, honey, that it's YOUR BACKPACK."
"Yeah," she said. "Especially if it's a BOY carrying it."
"Good thinking, Abi."
Monday, April 12, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
The Confused Little Engine
My almost two year old boy child has a serious fascination with trains. Gauging from the number of train toys available, it would seem this is not uncommon. Braeden's love for trains is clear genetic predisposition. Daddy loves trains. Grandpa loves trains. "CHOO-CHOO" was one of my boy's earliest words. Thomas the Tank Engine was one of his first favourite TV shows, toys, and book characters. He sees a pathway, a sidewalk, or even a tire track on dirt, and he is reminded of train tracks. "CHOO-CHOO!" he often exclaims. He is obsessed.
Quite to my surprise, it seems his early gravitation to trains is impacting his perception of the world around him.
My girl child has been taking a weekly art class downtown for the last eight weeks. During this time, on pleasant days, the boy and I have gone for walks. Outside. On sidewalks. During one such walk, we passed a large old building, in use by a local college. This building had several footpaths which weaved all around the lawn leading to different doorways to the building. He was ecstatic, just from seeing the 'tracks' all around. He hollered "CHOO-CHOO!" almost constantly until we were well past the property.
This week, it seemed the corollary between trains moving on tracks and people moving on sidewalks was taken a little too far. As we walked towards a busy intersection, a woman started walking towards us on OUR sidewalk. OUR track! Braeden informed me quickly of his concern. "Uh-ohhhh. Deh!" he said, pointing to the woman. As he thinks of train tracks when walking on a sidewalk, it didn't take long for things to sink in for me. Trains moving towards one another on the same track CRASH. They then, inevitably, derail. He clearly expected a disaster to ensue due to the fact that someone was walking towards us.
I assured him that we could keep walking, just walk around the person coming towards us, and we'd all be fine. He seemed skeptical, but kept walking, holding my hand securely.
The woman strolled by without incident.
Braeden let out a triumphant chuckle.
Quite to my surprise, it seems his early gravitation to trains is impacting his perception of the world around him.
My girl child has been taking a weekly art class downtown for the last eight weeks. During this time, on pleasant days, the boy and I have gone for walks. Outside. On sidewalks. During one such walk, we passed a large old building, in use by a local college. This building had several footpaths which weaved all around the lawn leading to different doorways to the building. He was ecstatic, just from seeing the 'tracks' all around. He hollered "CHOO-CHOO!" almost constantly until we were well past the property.
This week, it seemed the corollary between trains moving on tracks and people moving on sidewalks was taken a little too far. As we walked towards a busy intersection, a woman started walking towards us on OUR sidewalk. OUR track! Braeden informed me quickly of his concern. "Uh-ohhhh. Deh!" he said, pointing to the woman. As he thinks of train tracks when walking on a sidewalk, it didn't take long for things to sink in for me. Trains moving towards one another on the same track CRASH. They then, inevitably, derail. He clearly expected a disaster to ensue due to the fact that someone was walking towards us.
I assured him that we could keep walking, just walk around the person coming towards us, and we'd all be fine. He seemed skeptical, but kept walking, holding my hand securely.
The woman strolled by without incident.
Braeden let out a triumphant chuckle.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Life's Important Discussions
Sitting in the doctor’s office this weekend, the new We Are The World video came on the television. Abi pointed it out. Specifically, she pointed out the sections that showed Haiti and the earthquake sites. She is quite aware of the situation with all of the local fund raising efforts.
Near the end of the video she said to me, “All of the people in Haiti are brown.”
“Well, no, honey, not all of them are. A lot of them are, but probably not all.”
“There are black people and yellow people and white people?” she inquired.
I was stoked. This was a moment to address diversity of skin color in our highly light skinned town with my increasingly socially aware daughter. I strove to seize the moment. “Sure. There are probably lots of different kinds of people there. Most of them are what some call ‘black’, which just means they have a deep brown skin, but…. “
“Brown skin… like Ray’s mom had brown skin??” she inquired.
“You remember the color of Ray’s’ mom’s skin?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
I was moved. She had met Ray, a dear friend of mine from high school, his son, and his mother once, in a pizza shop, during a trip to New Jersey and she couldn’t have been much more than 3 or 4. Ray’s wonderful mother has since passed after a fight with cancer. That Abi remembered the color of her skin, and brought it up now, of all times, was so touching to me.
“Wow, Abi, yes, you know Ray’s mom was….”
“MOMMY!! SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS IS ON!!!!!”
Moment lost.
Near the end of the video she said to me, “All of the people in Haiti are brown.”
“Well, no, honey, not all of them are. A lot of them are, but probably not all.”
“There are black people and yellow people and white people?” she inquired.
I was stoked. This was a moment to address diversity of skin color in our highly light skinned town with my increasingly socially aware daughter. I strove to seize the moment. “Sure. There are probably lots of different kinds of people there. Most of them are what some call ‘black’, which just means they have a deep brown skin, but…. “
“Brown skin… like Ray’s mom had brown skin??” she inquired.
“You remember the color of Ray’s’ mom’s skin?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
I was moved. She had met Ray, a dear friend of mine from high school, his son, and his mother once, in a pizza shop, during a trip to New Jersey and she couldn’t have been much more than 3 or 4. Ray’s wonderful mother has since passed after a fight with cancer. That Abi remembered the color of her skin, and brought it up now, of all times, was so touching to me.
“Wow, Abi, yes, you know Ray’s mom was….”
“MOMMY!! SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS IS ON!!!!!”
Moment lost.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
A Valentine for Mommy
My darling secret admirer. My dear dear lover from afar. I never ever knew...
I uncovered you today, as I found the envelope that had gone too long overlooked sitting on the table in my foyer. The beautiful decorations on the outer folds drew me in- rich pink roses, sunset hued carnations, bold yellow gerbera daisies.
A treat! A Valentine's Day treat just for me!!
As I opened your envelope, my heart jumped at the beautiful, generous gifts you sent to me. I beamed at the glorious word before me... one of the most beautiful words I have ever read.
FREE!
Free Butter Quarters- Salted OR Unsalted!
Free Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream!
Free Nestle Chocolate Chip Morsels (11-12 whole ounces)!
Free Hellman's or Best Foods Mayonnaise!
... not to mention the full $11 of savings in additional coupons!
Russ Dispense, you have become more to me than simply the President of King Soopers, a subsidiary of The Kroger Company. You have played to my needs, to my wants, and charmed this disenchanted matron with your well placed affections.
"We hope these extra savings make it easier for you to treat yourself to even more of what you like."
Oh, Russ... I would like that too. You are so thoughtful!
You might have succeeding in making this my best Valentine's Day ever! You will forgive me, my dear, won't you, that I didn't pick anything up for you???
I uncovered you today, as I found the envelope that had gone too long overlooked sitting on the table in my foyer. The beautiful decorations on the outer folds drew me in- rich pink roses, sunset hued carnations, bold yellow gerbera daisies.
A treat! A Valentine's Day treat just for me!!
As I opened your envelope, my heart jumped at the beautiful, generous gifts you sent to me. I beamed at the glorious word before me... one of the most beautiful words I have ever read.
FREE!
Free Butter Quarters- Salted OR Unsalted!
Free Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream!
Free Nestle Chocolate Chip Morsels (11-12 whole ounces)!
Free Hellman's or Best Foods Mayonnaise!
... not to mention the full $11 of savings in additional coupons!
Russ Dispense, you have become more to me than simply the President of King Soopers, a subsidiary of The Kroger Company. You have played to my needs, to my wants, and charmed this disenchanted matron with your well placed affections.
"We hope these extra savings make it easier for you to treat yourself to even more of what you like."
Oh, Russ... I would like that too. You are so thoughtful!
You might have succeeding in making this my best Valentine's Day ever! You will forgive me, my dear, won't you, that I didn't pick anything up for you???
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Newton's exceptions
I never cease to be amazed by the propensity for a young child to frequently, randomly, unexpectedly, come crashing to the ground.
No, sporting events, general playtime, or even goofy sliding around don't count in this assessment. Falling in those situations is all within the realm of the expected. I mean that moment when you see a child walk to a stop, and the little body just keeps on going until the 'thud' and the 'OW!' follow. Or even the random collapse from a seemingly absolute standstill. How do they do that? Does someone need to first KNOW about Newton's laws of motion before they apply?
More.... how do they do that, and keep getting up again? I think once gravity proved itself to be that much an adversary- to rip me over from a halt- I might just stay down.
No, sporting events, general playtime, or even goofy sliding around don't count in this assessment. Falling in those situations is all within the realm of the expected. I mean that moment when you see a child walk to a stop, and the little body just keeps on going until the 'thud' and the 'OW!' follow. Or even the random collapse from a seemingly absolute standstill. How do they do that? Does someone need to first KNOW about Newton's laws of motion before they apply?
More.... how do they do that, and keep getting up again? I think once gravity proved itself to be that much an adversary- to rip me over from a halt- I might just stay down.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
On Writing
I'm taking a six week class at a local art school for Writing and Illustrating Children's books. That said, I'm not positive I want to write Children's books. Though I don't particularly like children, I know I'd love to write something. I also know that in six years of motherhood, something close to a dozen ideas for children's books have pounced on me. So, hey. Why not?!
Don't ask me about the Illustrating part. I'm trying not to get too worked up over that. Rumor has it publishers know some illustrators anyway, should anything I compose ever get that far...
The first day of class, the instructor quickly brought up something that stuck with me. He said that being a writer, any kind of writer, comes with a certain level of fear and vulnerability. Anything that you write inevitably exposes your thoughts or feelings about something, and you are therefore made more vulnerable with the exposing.
I've not had much hesitation here in blogland, where really I imagine my onlookers are dear pals or relatives, but thinking about anything else I might write... even just for this class? Yes, it's a little intimidating. Though I've not put much thought into why, I think with his statement, my class instructor answered the question I never asked. There's a vulnerability to it that feeds the eternal adolescent concern: but... what if they don't like me?? What if NO ONE likes me??
Fortunately, the instructor, after pointing out we would all become vulnerable with one another, did come to soothe the tween-agers in us by reinforcing that writing should be something that you do for you. Instead of looking for acceptance or fame or fortune or notoriety of any kind, it should just be an individual journey that the writer enjoys.
As I pursue this next writing adventure (wholeheartedly or otherwise), I will try to accept my vulnerability and work to just enjoy the act of writing.
So, did you like what I wrote? Did you? Did you??
Don't ask me about the Illustrating part. I'm trying not to get too worked up over that. Rumor has it publishers know some illustrators anyway, should anything I compose ever get that far...
The first day of class, the instructor quickly brought up something that stuck with me. He said that being a writer, any kind of writer, comes with a certain level of fear and vulnerability. Anything that you write inevitably exposes your thoughts or feelings about something, and you are therefore made more vulnerable with the exposing.
I've not had much hesitation here in blogland, where really I imagine my onlookers are dear pals or relatives, but thinking about anything else I might write... even just for this class? Yes, it's a little intimidating. Though I've not put much thought into why, I think with his statement, my class instructor answered the question I never asked. There's a vulnerability to it that feeds the eternal adolescent concern: but... what if they don't like me?? What if NO ONE likes me??
Fortunately, the instructor, after pointing out we would all become vulnerable with one another, did come to soothe the tween-agers in us by reinforcing that writing should be something that you do for you. Instead of looking for acceptance or fame or fortune or notoriety of any kind, it should just be an individual journey that the writer enjoys.
As I pursue this next writing adventure (wholeheartedly or otherwise), I will try to accept my vulnerability and work to just enjoy the act of writing.
So, did you like what I wrote? Did you? Did you??
Friday, January 29, 2010
By the light of the wolf moon
How about that big fat torch lighting up the January sky tonight?! It has drawn me back here to my doodley writing like a porch light draws a weary traveler in through a dark and lonely wood. It is a brilliant sight.
I have to admit that I've resisted 2010. Many of my friends were happy to see 2009 pass into history. I, on the other hand, was indifferent to the year change until it actually happened. Then I was quite certain it was a mistake. We should have skipped this year. Maybe slept through it in classic Sleeping Beauty/Rip Van Winkle style, simply missing it.
There seems a greater than fair share of hardship and tribulation going on right now for so many around us. Friends are struggling to afford housing, or struggling to conquer unemployment. Some are struggling to cure their cancers, preparing for, or healing from, surgeries. There has just been an ambiance of strain since pulling out the new calendar for the coming year.
So much so that... well, I think I needed this blazing wolf moon, to remind me that even in the dark the world lights up. Like the brilliant moon, this new year hurts a little when i look directly at it. Still, there are things to celebrate, like moonbeams reflected from snow covered mountain tops, or moon shadows that stretch out across the frigid winter lawn.
Into 2010 we dive. Let's see where the full moons lead from here.
I have to admit that I've resisted 2010. Many of my friends were happy to see 2009 pass into history. I, on the other hand, was indifferent to the year change until it actually happened. Then I was quite certain it was a mistake. We should have skipped this year. Maybe slept through it in classic Sleeping Beauty/Rip Van Winkle style, simply missing it.
There seems a greater than fair share of hardship and tribulation going on right now for so many around us. Friends are struggling to afford housing, or struggling to conquer unemployment. Some are struggling to cure their cancers, preparing for, or healing from, surgeries. There has just been an ambiance of strain since pulling out the new calendar for the coming year.
So much so that... well, I think I needed this blazing wolf moon, to remind me that even in the dark the world lights up. Like the brilliant moon, this new year hurts a little when i look directly at it. Still, there are things to celebrate, like moonbeams reflected from snow covered mountain tops, or moon shadows that stretch out across the frigid winter lawn.
Into 2010 we dive. Let's see where the full moons lead from here.
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