Artwork in children's books

​I've noticed a trend when I post about books that I love...

... the imagery is beautiful.
​... this book has beautiful images.
​... also, the artwork is beautiful.
​... beautiful artwork.

​I think it's safe to say I often choose a book based on its illustrations. Given the artwork in children's books is so important to me, I thought I'd share my thoughts on the kind of artwork I love and why. 

One quality I like is for the artwork to be vague and open-ended... more like a prompt to create an image than a pre-made picture. Just as imagination is the child's work in play, it is also the child's work in listening to stories. Giving a child space to imagine a character or a scene allows him to make it what he needs it to be to be relevant to his life. 

​Beach, Elisha Cooper

The ​Hello, Goodbye Window, artwork by Chris Raschka

​A Color of His Own, by Leo Lionni

But the artwork doesn't have to be vague to inspire. I love these pictures - even though they are well-defined, they still allow one to imagine movement. That is, they are not outlined in black ink with a shallow, still feel to them (i.e., Dora, Thomas the Train). They have depth and beauty.

Inside All, artwork by Holly Welch

​Owl Babies, artwork by Patrick Benson

​The Serpent who came to Gloucester, artwork by Bagram Ibatoulline

And then there is artwork that is done through different mediums. I love the creativity and work that went into creating these.

​Teddy, by Enid Warner Romanek. (The illustrations are from etchings done on zinc plates on the artist's own etching press)

​The Cat Who Wouldn't Come Inside, by Cynthia von Buhler. (The illustrations are photographs of a set the artist designed and created - using clay, hand sewn clothing, a homemade dollhouse, and various other materials)

Finally, there is artwork that ​is just plain awesome. David Wiesner's Art & Max, for example.

What are some of your favorite illustrators?​

Favorite Saying #5

Life is not a dress rehearsal.

My dad has been saying this for as long as I can remember. It isn't related to children or parenting, but it sure is relevant to life in general. Perhaps more and more so as I see  how each major life decision narrows down the possible pathways my life can take from this point forward. When I was 24, my future was wide open - the person I would marry, the career path I would chose, and the kind of family I would have, none of it had been decided. Once I committed to graduate school in language acquisition, it pretty much ruled out graduate school in any other field, and once I married Dave, it ruled out marrying anyone else… and so on. Not that one can't change a career (or husband), but it is much less likely to happen, and because I decided to spend my late twenties in school, it means I will never have spent my late twenties hiking the Appalachian Trail. 

While this may all sound depressing, this saying has guided my life in a very good way… like our move to Vermont. Dave and I have always wanted to raise our children in the country, closer to family. When our oldest was approaching school age, we realized this is it, there would be no do-over of where we raised our children. As we weighed the pros and cons of taking the leap to move to Vermont, I could hear my dad saying, "You know, life is not a dress rehearsal…"

Other favorite sayings:

A toy should be 10% toy and 90% child.

Boredom is the best gift you can give your child.

It is better to be 100% with your child 5% of the time than 5% with your child 100% of the time.

There is no such thing as poor weather, just poor dressing.

Worthy of Imitation

"It was not my finest parenting moment…" 

I hear this a lot. I say this a lot. An admission of guilt for not having handled a situation as we might have wanted to, for not having reacted with the grace and wisdom that we are trying to impart to our children. In the Waldorf world, there is a lot of talk about "being worthy of imitation." Given that children are great imitators, we should strive to model the behavior we want to see in our children. I interpret this to include everything from basic table manners to values such as tolerance and kindness. It is a huge responsibility, being worthy of imitation, and it is challenging. I don't have trouble chewing with my mouth closed or modeling respect for others, but I do struggle to maintain a calm, collected demeanor throughout the day while taking care of three small children. I admire Katherine and Clara's teachers who achieve this grace with such ease, but I question the feasibility and desirability of parents modeling ideal behavior all of the time. 

In an ideal world, no one yells in anger, or uses exaggerated sarcasm to display irritation, or stomps about to express dissatisfaction. In an ideal world, impatience would be suppressed when a child dawdles while getting ready for school. But in my reality, after telling my kids to help me clean up the playroom for the third time, I sometimes snap at them in a tone filled with irritation. When my six-year-old interrupts me repeatedly to ask me to help her with something right now, even though I am in the middle of doing something else and have asked her kindly to wait, I might burst out, full of exasperation, "Katherine, stop! I said I will help you when I am done." When I can't take one more squabble over something as inconsequential as who gets to wear the pink slippers, I threaten to take the slippers away and never ever give them back. Not my finest parenting moments. I certainly don't want to hear my kids use that exasperated, irritated tone with me or with each other, or with anyone else for that matter. But to be fair, their behavior can be really annoying, and in life, really annoying behavior has social consequences.

Functioning in society requires gauging others' communicative cues, such as tone used to express irritation and exasperation, and then perhaps adjusting one's behavior accordingly. Part of raising children means preparing them to function in society. Therefore, it would be unnatural for a parent to strive to hide or suppress a natural reaction to annoying behavior.

I do not mean to simply excuse or justify less than ideal behavior. Nor am I proposing that because my children will encounter poor behavior in the world, I'd better prepare them for it my behaving poorly myself from time to time. I firmly believe it is important to treat children with kindness, warmth, and dignity, and I believe parents are role models for children and that responsibility should be taken very seriously. But holding ourselves to the standard of always being worthy of imitation is not realistic, and unwavering calm and control - to the point of masking natural human emotions - may not serve our children well. And therein lies the balance between striving to be worthy of imitation and allowing ourselves to be real.

There will be many "not my finest parenting" moments. But instead of reliving them through admissions of guilt to our friends at the end of the day, we should accept them as part of the learning process for ourselves as parents, and for our children who are learning how to behave and how to process others' behavior.

Favorite Saying #4

A toy should be 10% toy and 90% child.

I love this quote and have found it to be so true. The less a toy does, the more my children play with it. The less defined a toy is, the more it is incorporated into their play in different ways. Cardboard boxes, ropes, blankets, and kitchen bowls are the true treasures. 

I am continually surprised - or maybe impressed is the word - at how fluid children's play is and how their props morph right along with them as they move from one scenario to another. A blanket starts out as a blanket, then turns into a sled to pull a little sister across the floor, then serves as the roof to a fort, then becomes a cape - no, a bonnet, for a fairy, then is used as a sack to carry pretend food, then is turned upside down and tied to the pretend food to be dropped from the top of the stairs as a parachute… and on and on.  

A bright red fire truck, complete with ladder, lights and siren? It can only be a fire truck.

Favorite Sayings #3

Boredom is the best gift you can give your child.

I just wrote about boredom a few weeks ago, and recently I have heard parents claim their children are bored in kindergarten. I wonder, and maybe even roll my eyes a little, how could a child be bored in kindergarten when their day is filled with play, crafts, stories, music, snack, walks, friends and many other activities? 

It turns out that this "boredom" is not boredom at all, but rather "restlessness," which is a sign that a child is ready to move on to first grade. Who knew?! In a parent evening at Katherine's school this week, the teacher discussed the physical, behavioral and developmental indicators of first grade readiness. The following description was included on the handout under the heading Development of Intention: Dissatisfied with themselves - not sure what to do with themselves - may react with "I'm bored."

Ohhh. This is restlessness, which is not the same as boredom, even though the word boredom may be used by the child (or parent) to describe it. So I'll stop my eye rolling now when I hear of kindergarteners who are "bored" and start observing their behavior to see how exactly this restlessness presents itself in their play and activity. I have a feeling it will be fascinating.

Puffer Belly Song

I have been in DC this past week for work. I love Vermont, but it has been a great joy to wander around my old neighborhood, visit with friends and see their children, and stop in my favorite store and coffee shops (yes, one store, many coffee shops). When I walked by our old playground, I was flooded with memories. For some reason, one in particular stood out. When Katherine was three and a half we went through a phase when leaving the playground was very difficult - as in she never wanted to leave and the four block walk home was torture. I remember feeling paralyzed - with Clara in the wrap, the backpack heavy with water bottle, snack, spare clothes, diapers, etc., and a crying child who refused to walk, what could I do? 

As usual when I face a child challenge, I think about what Katherine's teachers would suggest. A song. Sing a song. Something simple and rhythmic that will calm us both, center us again. The song that was in my head that day - the "Puffer Belly" song, as we now call it - got us home. For months we sang it every time we left the playground… and we made up dance steps to go along with the words. Katherine loved this routine. I had to get over my self-consciousness of singing and dancing down the street, but it beat carrying a kicking and screaming kid all the way home. 

In case you have a three-and-a-half-year old who refuses to walk at inopportune times, here is our song and dance routine:

Down by the station (swing hands forward)
Early in the morning (swing hands backward)
See the little puffer bellies (kid does a twirl at "puffer belly" under mom's arm)
All in a row
See the station master (swing hands forward)
Give the starting signal (swing hands backward)
Puff Puff (stomp each foot once)
Toot toot (do two little hops)
Off they go (run forward several feet together - drag this out and run as far as possible to get home faster)

We tried making up other dances to other songs, but this was always our favorite.

Favorite Sayings #2

It is better to be 100% present with your child 5% of the time than 5% present 100% of the time.

This saying is always a good reminder for me to take a time out from my to-do list and just sit down and do something with each child each day. I don't always manage and it is a constant challenge to balance the pull to get things done and the importance of being present. I admit I get plenty of 100% time with Alexandra. Every time she nurses, I stop and just sit with her, touch her little hands, look at her round, soft face and marvel at my little baby (ok, clinging to the "little" part). I love that time. It's harder with the big sisters since they are as busy with their play as I am with my agenda, but I love when I do take the time to really be with them. 

This evening I snuggled up with Katherine and read the first chapter of Little House on the Prairie. She is fascinated by the covered wagon and the big sky forming a huge circle around Laura and her family as they travel west across the plains. 

It was the best 5% of my day.

Favorite Sayings

At the risk of being cheesy, I thought I'd do a mini-series on my top five favorite sayings. These are sayings I think about daily and they serve as a guide for me in parenting, and life in general. Since it is -13 degrees today, I'll start with this one:

There is no such thing as poor weather, just poor dressing.

I first heard it from my friend Emily, and I think it originally came from a Waldorf educator somewhere in Scandinavia. As someone who gets cold hands and feet as soon as it dips below 40 degrees, I'm not always sure I agree with it, but I try. I love the message that there is no excuse for not going outside every day. Anytime I find myself leaning towards not taking the kids out (usually in rainy 35 degrees weather), I call up this saying and figure out what I need to wear to be warm. Often it requires a thermos of coffee. Interestingly, I find the kids are rarely deterred by the weather, as if they barely notice it. They play just as hard on a cold, wet day as they do on a warm, sunny day - as long as I motivate to get them outside!

Developmental Psychology

In another part of my life, I do research in second language acquisition (how adults learn foreign language); a cross between linguistics and cognitive psychology. My research is on adults, but when Katherine was younger (before her sisters arrived and I had only one nap schedule to coordinate) I signed her up to participate in linguistic and psychology experiments on campus. These experiments were always interesting for me and fun for Katherine. I enjoyed learning about the research design, how experiments are carried out with children, how children's behavior is observed, and of course, the results when the studies are published. Katherine enjoyed the puppets and simple stories designed to present and elicit the target language or behavior of the study.

A friend of mine recently started a blog, My First Theory, that outlines simple experiments you can conduct at home to observe your child's development:

There are a lot of books that tell you how children develop.  But, through this blog, I want to show you, in a way that you can re-create at home, some of the most interesting studies that researchers have designed to illuminate how children are learning.  During my time as a graduate student in developmental psychology, I marveled both at the kinds of skills that young children were learning and the innovative, yet elegant ways that many researchers were testing them.  Since then, I’ve thought about compiling these studies chronologically so that I could use them to learn about my own future children’s development.  In talking with the parents who generously volunteered to bring their children into campus labs to participate in research, I found that many parents are interested in learning about these studies as well, but may not be familiar with them.

If you are intrigued, head on over to My First Theory and check out some of the experiments. And have fun!

Gun Play - repost

Several months ago I wrote my opinions on Gun Play. It’s been on my mind since the Newtown shooting and I’ve been struggling with whether I really do accept that gun play is an important part of a child’s play.

Last week we got together with some dear family friends and one of the children brought a pretend gun into their play. I immediately tensed up and had to resist the urge to shut down their imaginative scenario. I had to remind myself that our kids have no idea what happened in Newtown; my reaction is based on the horror of reality, while their play comes from a place of innocence. I do not want my strongly negative, emotional reaction to interfere with their natural, innocent play,  but… I can’t let go of what guns mean to me.

Because I think this topic is on many parents’ minds, I thought I’d repost some thoughts from my original post.

Generally speaking, children play what they need to play in order to process their world. Most children are exposed to guns through a variety of sources, such as t.v., movies, the news, other children, and toys. Some children have parents who have to keep guns in their home because of their job, and children of military families are exposed to guns, especially if they live on a base. Whether we like it or not, guns are very present in our lives. It makes sense that children need to process this aspect of life and doing so through play is healthy.

I think it is important to also keep in mind that gun play doesn’t have the same meaning to children as it does to adults. I am horrified at the idea of my five-year-old going around pretending to shoot people. But that is based on thirty some years of experience and a mature understanding of murder and death. To a five-year-old, it is nothing more than an escalated version of tag.

As far as allowing it in my home, I follow the guidelines Katherine’s teacher uses in his classroom. I try to be aware of the effect gun play is having on the children playing it and the children nearby who are not playing it. If someone feels threatened, I intervene, but if no one feels threatened, I’ll let it go. When I do intervene, I’ll tell the gun player that the gun may not be pointed at people and I’ll try to redirect the play. Often I’ll suggest they hunt a dragon or some wild beast in the forest. Sometimes I’ll turn their pretend gun into a pretend water squirter and request that they cool me down. This usually works, but I have it easy because the girls usually lose interest pretty quickly anyway.

For parents whose children don’t lose interest so easily, I think it is possible to embrace the need for gun play. One parent I know enrolled the whole family in archery lessons. Every weekend they went into the woods together to practice their skills. They enjoyed shooting targets out in nature in a safe and healthy way. I think this approach is brilliant - it treated her son’s need and desire for gun play positively and with respect, and it brought the whole family into it in a way they could all enjoy.

As with any issue, parents need to find their own comfort level while considering their individual children. One child may really need gun play, while another child may be stuck in a gun play rut to the point of missing out on other important kinds of play. One child may play guns in a way that negatively affects others while another child may play in a way that is non-threatening. How a parent decides to deal with gun play is personal, and may change with time as the child changes.

I have to say, though, despite my views that gun play is generally ok, I still bristle every time it comes home. It will probably always be difficult for me to balance my knowledge of guns and their role in society with the need my kids have to process their world through play.

I would love to hear your thoughts and approach to gun play. How do you handle it in your home?

Christmas Gift

Welcome to my Christmas gift! I asked Dave for threaded comments, and with them I got a new, clean, uncluttered design. There may be a few more changes to come, Dave says he's not quite done. 

We had a quiet Christmas. We enjoyed a few of our old traditions -- fondue dinner on Christmas Eve, reading favorite Christmas books, Christmas Tree decorating (small hands rearranging the ornaments daily), and a Christmas Day hike; and a few new traditions -- sledding(!), snowshoeing, and dessert with neighbors.

I'm going to take a few more days off, to give my eyes a nice, long break from the computer screen and let Dave finish his redesign. I'm looking forward to your comments and now I can reply to each one individually!

Happy New Year!

A Little Goodness

We received an article from Katherine’s school titled, “How Do I Find and Create Goodness for My Children” (by Susan Weber of Sophia’s Hearth Family Center) to help us parents deal with difficult times or events in the presence of our children. It offers the following advice:

Take a walk, find your way into nature, hold deep in memory the most recent good thing we have encountered. Begin and end your day with a gratitude for the good in our lives - however challening this may feel at moments…and see if, step by tiny step, you can rediscover, in difficult times, that the world is truly good.

There are many good things in life, and one of them arrived in the mail yesterday. Every year for as long as I can remember, my Aunt and Uncle have sent our family a box of Christmas cookies. When I moved into my own place, I was surprised that first Christmas to receive my own box - and every year since a box of cookies has appeared a few weeks before Christmas. It is one of my favorite things about the holidays and it is connected to many good memories.

I’m not sure cookies are exactly what Susan Weber has in mind when she refers to the wonder and miracles of the universe, but they represent something good in the world, and I’m holding that deep in my memory this week. 

Holding Newtown in my thoughts

After Friday, I tried to write down some of my thoughts, hoping it would help me process what happened, if that is even possible. I’m not sure this is the right place for them, but if nothing else, they mark a pause for the families of Newtown.

———————————-

When I heard there had been another school shooting, my first instinct was to reject it, to hold my ears the way a child would to keep the information out. But of course I couldn’t and the expected range of emotions flooded my mind as I tried to assimilate the news. Unable to tolerate even a hint of any one emotion, I involuntarily shut each one down before it took hold and overwhelmed me. A protective reflex. I tried to bring up words to describe how I felt in hopes of grounding myself in rational thought, channeling the emotion into a format I could process. But there are no words… the ones that I came up with were hopelessly shallow, cliché. It’s better to be silent.

Today I went Christmas shopping with my older daughter, my 6-year-old. We’ve been planning this outing for a week. As we walked to town, she skipped and trotted and talked my ear off with her ideas for presents for her sisters. The air was chilly, the sky a piercing blue. I squinted against the bright winter sun, feeling both irritated and reassured that it rose on schedule today. I want life to pause to let the devastation sink in; instead I am numbly propelled forward as the day continues at its usual pace, unaware.

Like every other parent who did not lose a child yesterday, I am grateful that my children are safe and sound, sleeping in their beds. But I also feel intense relief that it wasn’t my town, my school, my family. It is appropriate to be grateful for the safety and health of one’s own children, but to feel relief that it was someone else’s? As I sort through the guilt of voicing that statement, I recognize an acceptance and helplessness that it will be someone’s child. In that acceptance, I go on with life knowing the horror of this particular instance will fade; in that helplessness, I live every day with the fear that at some point it might be my child, and there is nothing I can do to prevent it.

I know people will pause for as long as they can, but time will sweep us back into the norm, mercifully, rightfully, allowing us to heal. But with healing comes acceptance, and we should never accept that a gunman murdered 20 children. No matter how well time relieves us of this intense grief, we should never give in to the acceptance.

Mind Jar

People tend to either love glitter or hate glitter. I fall in the “love” glitter camp. I have always loved glitter, and if I ever broke out of my brown/beige/black/gray and sometimes navy blue wardrobe, I would wear things with glitter. I wouldn’t even mind glitter all over my house, the mere sight of something sparkly makes me happy. But not everyone here feels that way, so I don’t get to have glitter around as much as I might want. However, Katherine agrees with me that glitter is wonderful, so we made Mind Jars for her birthday party favors. Mind jars are perfect. The glitter is contained but as beautiful as ever. I now have one sitting on my desk.

The idea is that when a child (or adult) needs a few minutes to calm down, he/she takes the jar, shakes it up, and watches the glitter sparkle and swirl until it settles at the bottom. 

We’ve used the Mind Jar twice this week to help calm a child. The other day, Katherine was frustrated and impatient with her sister, who admittedly was getting in the way. I could hear the escalating unkindness between them (read: Katherine was about to get really mad), so I had her go up to her room with the Mind Jar, sit on her bed, shake it up, watch it, and come down ready to play when all the glitter had settled. It worked! She happily went up to her room, and came back down five minutes later, calm and relaxed, ready to play.

Today, Dave used it with Clara who was having a tantrum of unknown origin. He sat down with her and the mind jar (probably not wise to let a tantruming child go off on her own with a glass jar) and had her shake it. Clara wasn’t all that interested in watching it, but she did want to hold it. So Dave told her she could hold it and keep it stirred up until she was ready to let it calm down. When she was ready to let it settle, she was also settled. As we say, she had found her calm.

So… novelty effect or magic solution?

Mind Jars are easy to make: mix glitter glue and hot water in a jar, you can add extra glitter if you think it needs more. 

Compassion Parenting

The other day I was out and about with Clara and Alexandra. At the check out counter in a store, a man observed Clara helping me unload our basket, while Alexandra watched from the Ergo. He asked Clara if she was the big sister. “No,” replied Clara. “Katherine is the big sister.”

It dawned on me that Clara may not appreciate her position in the middle. From my point of view, coming from a two-sibling family, she occupies the fortunate place as both big sister and little sister. What could be better?!  But to her, she may be neither. She does not hold the “big sister” title, and she has lost her place as the youngest, a displacement that coincides with her natural transition from toddler and girl.

As is typical of age three, she is now more little girl than toddler, though she still switches between the two regularly, seeking more independence, but not quite ready to let go of the benefits of a close attachment to me. One moment she wants to do it by herself, like Katherine, the next she is Alexandra, crawling on the floor. In the midst of this transition, as I remember well from Katherine’s third year, she is making sure we know it is still our job as parents to take care of her and keep her safe. She is testing us. Constantly. 

But of course it is very different than it was the first time around. With Katherine, I was coming off a beautiful first two years during which I had the time, energy, and patience to parent exactly as I pleased, with no distractions or competing factors. This time, I am also caring for a 5-year-old and an infant. I find myself addressing Clara’s behavior as I would Katherine’s, offering a consequence that is too complex for a three-year-old; or not following through with an appropriate consequence because I am mid diaper change. 

It’s no wonder, then, why Clara continues to slam the door, or draw on the furniture with crayon, or throw her food on the floor. She is looking to me for a solid, direct response, an “I see you and I am here to take care of you” response.

Removed from the situation, I know exactly how I would like to address her actions: age-appropriate consequences communicated calmly, kindly, and firmly. But in the moment I struggle to suppress the frustration, the Why can’t you just response that is so easy to throw out in the midst of the chaos. I let frustration overrule compassion. And Clara calls me on it, slamming the door again, even harder, then smiling at me for good measure.

Compassion. The key sentiment in effective parenting. When I take a moment to step back and slow down (doesn’t it always come back to slowing down?) I see Clara’s behavior in all its three-year-old charm. I feel pride in her mischievous grin as she blatantly disobeys. I admire her sense of humor as she teases Katherine. And I feel compassion for her place between being baby and girl, little sister and big sister. Suddenly, I am connected to her again, and no matter what she does, she’s just doing what all three-year-olds are supposed to do. She’s making sure I am parenting her.

A Waldorf Birthday Celebration

Seventeen children sit in little wooden chairs, their cheeks rosy from the cold outside. Muffled sounds of feet shuffling and chairs creaking warm the room as they fidget and settle into their places, but no one talks. They are waiting for the birthday celebration to begin. The teacher walks Katherine into the classroom, gently wraps a white silk around her shoulders, and begins the birthday story. 

A big angel and a little angel are playing catch with a ball. The big angel throws the ball, but the little angel misses it, and the ball falls through the clouds, leaving a hole for the little angel to look through. Peeking down through the clouds, the little angel sees Earth. She realizes her work in the houses of the stars is done. She is ready to go to Earth. The big angel travels with the little angel around the world in search of her parents. They see a family in a cold, wintry land; They look very nice, but they are not my parents, says the little angel. They see a family in the cobbled streets of Paris; They look very nice, but they are not my parents, says the little angel. They see a family in the hot sun, on a beach by the sparkling blue ocean; They look very nice, but they are not my parents, says the little angel. The little angel begins to feel sad that she has not found her parents. But then, the big angel and little angel see a mom and a dad waiting for their child, and the little angel recognizes them right away as her parents. The big angel removes the little angel’s wings and carefully sets them aside; she will need them again when she is done on Earth. The little angel happily crosses over the Rainbow Bridge into the arms of her loving parents. Her name will be Katherine. 

Katherine walks across the rainbow silk laid out in the middle of the circle and sits in her chair in between us and her two sisters. Her face is bright with joy. The teacher lights five candles as we share a memory from each year of her life.

When Katherine was born… We snuggled her into the wrap and went for long walks around the capitol.

When Katherine was one… She loved to help dad make pizza, kneading the dough and shaping it into a ball, then flattening it into a crust.

When Katherine was was two… She enjoyed outings to the Botanic Gardens where she played in the children’s garden, splashing in the fountains.

When Katherine was three… She and her sister played together, Katherine can make Clara laugh better than anyone else.

When Katherine was four… She went on a special mother-daughter trip to Boston to visit Auntie M. She got to ride the T.

When Katherine was five… She loved swimming with her friend in the pool.

And now Katherine is six. A happy birthday song.

Happy birthday, happy birthday, we love you.

Happy birthday, happy birthday, hope your dreams come true.

When you blow out the candles, there is one that stays aglow.

That’s the one that’s in your heart wherever you may go.

Happy birthday, happy birthday, we love you.

Katherine opens the gift from her teachers, a yellow felted sack with six marbles. She walks around the circle, showing each of her classmates her new treasures. The children admire the marbles and point out their favorites. Then it is time for the birthday snack of fruit salad, whipped cream, and walnuts.

It was a perfect celebration. A roomful of children listening intently, quietly, to the birthday story, sharing in Katherine’s joy as she traveled around the circle and across the bridge to her family. The wonder and beauty the teachers create is just as it should be for our five - now six - year old.

Perspective

Monday came and went and it was nothing to worry about. The tension of waiting has dissolved and a bad day is once again defined by trivial inconveniences, the cat throwing up on our bed, running out of coffee beans, a tantrum about getting dressed. But I am not rolling my eyes “at how worked up I let myself get” and I will not simply “go back to my old life.” My perspective has changed.

Head over to Mamalode to read the rest… a little follow up to Most likely, it’s nothing.

Lantern Walk

This evening was Katherine’s lantern walk. At our old school, we would gather in a park and walk through the city-lit neighborhood, sharing with the greater community. At our new school, we walk in the darkness through the apple orchard and meadow. Two very different experiences, both beautiful and simple. I love the long line of lanterns, flickering about a foot off the ground as the preschool and kindergarten children walk along, singing the lantern song. This is one of my (many) favorite Waldorf traditions.

I go with my bright little lantern

My lantern is going with me.

In heaven the stars are shining,

On Earth shines my lanter for me.

The light grows dim as we go in

La bimbala bambala bay.

And then home to a warm dinner.

Pacing the Holiday Season

November is here, the days are decidedly shorter and the sunlight thinner, bringing a chill with its warmth. November makes me happy, though. It holds all the anticipation of the holidays without any obligation or expectation. This brief moment on the edge of the season is when I feel most festive. As Christmas approaches, I find myself struggling to find my holiday spirit, feeling simultaneously overwhelmed (and disappointed) by the commercialization of the season and anticipating its abrupt end on the 26th, with only New Years to mark one final day off before the long haul until spring begins. 

Gloomy, I know. But I have found it helps to spread out our family traditions over the all three months, November, December, and into January. Most importantly, we want the season to be more than a two-month long build up to Christmas morning. Last year we made an effort to pace the build-up and minimize the let-down, and I think we all savored the season a little more. This year I hope to do so even more.

I am making an effort to pause and fully enjoy these first few weeks of November. This means completely ignoring the mass media focus on Christmas that tries to overrun Thanksgiving by bombarding everyone with “buy-more-crap-so-you-can-have-a-merrier-Christmas” advertising. Actually, that is not true. I go off on a good, long rant about consumerism, the loss of true holiday spirit, and how when I was a kid Christmas did not start a day before December 1st. Once that is out of my system, I completely tune out all mention of Christmas, including my kids’ begging me to play carols and bring out the Christmas books, and I enjoy November. A lantern walk, making candles, Thanksgiving, Katherine’s birthday.  

Then it is December and talk of Christmas is welcome. But even now, I try to make the holiday activities span the entire month. Baking cookies happens early in the month, making ornaments and Christmas tree decorating is mid-month, and gift shopping/making is usually a last minute frenzy born out of procrastination and indecision. One of our favorite activities, ginger bread houses, is saved for after the 25th. It is a three-day process (making the ginger bread, building the house, decorating the house) that fills the week of the 26th. We all look forward to it and it carries me through the days that have always felt rather empty and listless. New Year’s Day will be a family hike. 

I’m not quite sure how to spread holiday activities into January. I’m thinking maybe January will be bread making month, starting out with my mom’s delicious New Year’s bread (which every year I vow to make, and then never do), and then trying a new holiday-ish recipe each week. I just saw a Chai-Spiced Tea Loaf recipe…

And now that we live in Vermont, we’re looking forward to outdoor winter activities. For Katherine and Clara, that means ice skating (on a pond, for free) and sledding. For me, it means snowshoeing.  For Alexandra, it means riding on my back while I snowshoe. For Dave, it means shoveling snow (which is what he gets for looking at me blankly and then ignoring my question when I asked what winter activities he is looking forward to).