A Week with James

This past week, my sister Jessica took care of James as it is childcare vacation week, but both Kelley and I had to work. She wrote this post about her time with James and graciously agreed to let us use it as a guest blog entry. Thank you, Aunt Jessica!  

The 25 things I learned during my week on James Patrol:

1) Pushing a toy train around a circular track for hours on end is actually pretty Zen, as is digging a hole and filling it in, over and over and over again.

2) I do, in fact, lift from the knees - my legs are killing me from carrying James all week but my back is totally fine.

3) Speaking of carrying James, it turns out that a sprained elbow from a high school injury has the habit of flaring up again, 20 years later, if you spend the week carrying a child.

4) Playing with James' hair or driving him around after a few hours of stimulus, is a sure fire way to get him to go to sleep - sometimes mid sentence. "Aunt Jessica, did you see that dig-zzzzzzzzz"

5) Pushing a stroller with a two (almost three) year old in it for two miles is a lot harder then just walking (or even running) that same two miles.

6) The Faneuil Branch of the Boston Public Library doesn't open until noon on Tuesdays.

7) Grilled American cheese sandwiches are quite possibly the most amazing things ever invented...no, I don't care that American cheese isn't a real food.

8) Thomas and Friends is actually rather entertaining, with some truly catchy tunes that will stay with you for hours and hours and hours.

9) A two (almost three) year old can be solidly distracted by play-doh, bubbles, pink & white, Thomas, trains, and of course, diggers.

10) The Boston Road Crews (the ones who trim the trees from the power lines), and the garbage men of the city are either super friendly, or all have little ones at home because I honestly don't think we passed a single city employee during the whole week who didn't take a second to wave to James.

11) The Children's Museum is exactly as much fun as I remember it to be.

12) The children of Boston, and their parents, are incredibly sweet, well behaved and conscientious of the other children around them...or at least the ones who were at The Children's Museum on Wednesday were.

13) It turns out a two (almost three) year old boy is fascinated by all manner of bodily functions - pee, poo, toot, burp, you name it - it's all awesome and hilarious to the child.

14) A water/sand table is pretty fun, not just for a two (almost three) year old.

15) Grapes are better when cut in half and shared with a nephew.

16) Boynton books are awesome but so are a whole bunch of other board books like THE LITTLE BLUE TRUCK and SHEEP IN A SHOP.

17) Two (almost three) year olds can be incredibly bossy and particular...oh, and did I mention destructive, but they can also be the cutest thing on the planet - painfully, adorable - truly.

18) It's super fun to say things around a two (almost three) year old just to see if he'll mimic you in his adorable voice. There is nothing quite so hilarious as hearing something like "you can't handle the truth" or "these aren't the droids you're looking for" or "no power in the 'verse can stop me" out of that adorable and endearing chirp of a voice.

19) If you put down a paper-tape track through the house with the intention of the two (almost three) year old using it to drive his cars around in a circle, know that it will never be used for that intended purpose and instead you will find yourself running around the track in a circle being chased by said two (almost three) year old for a good hour at least - the good thing is that you will not need to do your scheduled 4 mile run that day.

20) There is no limit to the energy of the two (almost three) year old, but a 40 (almost 41) year old runs out of steam about 2 hours into the day.

21) You can, in fact, get a two (almost three) year old to bake his own birthday cupcakes, as long as decorating the cupcakes once they're cool is in the offing.

22) Magic words are real once the two (almost three) year old realizes that nothing will happen without the most magic word of them all - "please".

23) The two (almost three) year old is a booger making factory. Seriously, if we could harness that power from all the two (almost three) year olds in the world I think we could end this country's dependence on foreign oil.

24) Time runs differently when caring for a two (almost three) year old. In fact, I wonder if there's some sort of worm hole surrounding the little ones that actually changes the laws of physics - have we discovered the true fluidic space?

25) ...which leads me to the fact that caring for a two (almost three) year old for a week is a level of chaos that I couldn't have fully understood until today. Bravo to the mommies and daddies and day care workers and babysitters, the grandmas and grandpas and aunties and uncles who do this on a regular basis. I tip my hat to you all and, though I don't plan to have any myself, I completely agree that there is nothing quite so indescribably wonderful as hearing "I love you, Aunt Jessica" from that sweet and marvelous little boy.

Jessica Ammirati is a director and doula extraordinaire who lives in Brooklyn, NY. The founder of Going To Tahiti Productions, you can find her regular blog posts for GTTP at http://goingtotahitiproductions.com/blog/. 

The Incident At Cockle Cove Road (And Other Adventures in Discipline)

So there my sister and I were last week, driving down the charming Cape Cod road happily chatting when, from behind us, James piped up, “Here comes the binky!” and a binky landed in my lap.

Hold on a second, you say. Isn’t that kid almost three years old? Isn’t that way too late for a binky?

Well, yes. I suppose so. But I do have to admit that Lucy had a binky for a very long time. At least until four. (I am ashamed to say that I don’t entirely remember how long she had it; I wouldn’t be surprised if I were presented with photographic evidence that showed she had one for another year or so.)

With Lucy it wasn’t a deliberate thing. We were first-time parents and, to be honest, it was just easier that way. I mean, I considered the whole cut-off-the-tip-of-the-binky-so-that-it-doesn’t-have-the-whole-suction thing, the let’s-tie-it-to-the-balloon-and-send-it-off-with-a-proper-good-bye thing, the ceremonious-collect-all-the-binkies-and-throw-them-away thing (can you tell I’m an avid reader of parenting magazines?), but it was always a half-hearted attempt and it never got very far.

My husband, on the other hand, just shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Whatever. She’ll be done with it when she’s done with it.’ And, guess what, that’s exactly what happened.

Flash forward ten years and here we are in the same place with James. This time around, however, it is entirely deliberate. It’s part of the strategy in fact. First of all, it’s come to my attention that if a binky is in James’s mouth, nothing else is. Although I do recognize that’s not the most child-proof method of child-proofing, it does come in handy, I must say. Particularly when, say, he’s playing in a garden that has a big, honking Nightshade plant (i.e., deathly poison) about three feet to the left.
If I were smart, I would say that that’s the true reason that we haven’t done anything to begin the binky separation process. But that wouldn’t be the truth. The binky is a key element in our discipline strategy with James – because nothing else works.

Being that James is #3, we aren’t entirely surprised that he didn’t respond in the way the first two did. We learned that lesson when Will came along. Take the whole counting thing, one of the universal discipline strategies across time. What parent doesn’t use the “I’m going to count to three” phrase on a regular basis? With Lucy, we never even got to two. Heck, we never got to two and a half. She’s a rules girl, and by the time we got to two, we were well on our way to whatever point we needed to make. Will, on the other hand, would ask, “But what’s going to happen when you get to three? Will you take my cars away? Will I go into a time out?” And then, based on the answer, he’d decide whether to do what we wanted or not. I wasn’t thrilled, but at least I had a sense of where things were heading.

But now there’s James. James just takes a passing glance at the rules and then leaves them in his dust. When I start counting to three, he just, in his sweet little voice, counts along with me. “Twooooo… Threeeeee…” It’s all I can do not to end up laughing hysterically. Forget following through with any kind of threat. Not to say that James doesn’t end up in his share of time outs, but it’s not the end-all-be-all that it was once upon a time.

Which brings me back to the binky. James couldn’t care less if he ends up in a time out after we get to three. That’s just a chance for him to sing to himself for three minutes. But if we threaten to take away his binky, well, that’s a whole other story entirely.

For example, when I found myself driving along at a fair clip and then all of a sudden there was a binky coming my way, I knew that the first thing I needed to do was tell him that he was never to throw things in a car, and most certainly not in the direction of -- or at -- the driver. The second thing, of course, was me saying that he wasn’t getting the binky back and that it was in a time out for a really long time.

The fact that he barely reacted to that was suspicious.

So I looked into the rearview mirror, only to discover that he was sitting there with a whole other binky in his mouth. He’d apparently taken to carrying around an extra. No wonder he wasn’t concerned.

But he’d thrown it in the car. And he’d thrown it at me, i.e., the driver. The problem, however, was that by the time I’d realized that, it was several minutes later. And we were on a country road that had nowhere I could pull over to make my point right away, something that all of those parenting magazines I read say is crucial with kids this age. Then again, when my other kids were this age, they wouldn’t have thought to have a second binky in reserve.

A few miles down the road, I saw a turn off. Cockle Cove Road. Even though it was now ten minutes later, I pulled over, got out of the car, and went around to his side and opened the door.

“No throwing in the car. No throwing at the driver. This binky is in time out until we get home.” Binky #2, gone.

He cried the whole way home.

I didn’t like it – and I don’t particularly like that I know what his weakness is and that I use it. But that’s the line we walk as parents, isn’t it? It’s our job to make sure that, well, they don’t grow up and keep throwing things at the driver. And sometimes it isn’t pretty.

In the meantime, though – and as long as he doesn’t keep throwing it -- he can have the binky.

Come for the Spanish, Stay for the Love

Part of what sets
Pine Village apart:  co-founders
Brid and Emma

A few weeks ago, I joined PVP’s Enrollment Director Kendra Bucklin at Back Bay’s Kingsley Montessori Meet the Schools Night. One of the questions that a prospective parent asked me was, What sets Pine Village apart from all the other schools out there? For someone who can go on for hours about "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" (don’t ask; truly; hours is not an exaggeration), you’d think that I could have been a bit more articulate about a place I love sooooo much when asked that question. And yet I have to admit, I kind of bumbled my way through it.

I mean, of course I talked about the bilingual/Spanish part. That’s a given. And after a minute or so of babbling the kinds of clichés that any other high-quality preschool could babble, I did finally say that, upon learning that we were pregnant with kid #3 after kids #s 1 and 2 were well out of Pine Village, one of my first thoughts was: thank goodness, we get to go through Pine Village again. But I’m not entirely proud of my performance with that particular parent. And I was grateful for Kendra who stepped in and rescued the entire conversation.

Several minutes after the parent left the table, seeing that I was still ruminating on my not-so-great showing, Kendra very nicely didn’t mention how tongue-tied I’d been, but instead said something that has stuck in my head for these last several weeks: “Families come for the Spanish, but they stay for the love.”

Will and me

Our story is slightly different. We didn’t choose Pine Village specifically for the Spanish. Although we loved the idea of a bilingual preschool – and some day I’ll be happy to go on about the long-term benefits for our kids, now respectively eight and five years later – what struck us about Pine Village from the start was exactly what Kendra said: the love.

Not that there aren’t preschools out there that don’t share a similar philosophy. Not every place is a nameless, faceless corporate monolith. And, o.k., yes (she begrudgingly said), even the nameless, faceless monoliths have amazing teachers and staff and are overflowing with love. 

But I can’t help it; Pine Village is different. For us it always has been. And although I still have a problem fully articulating why – it’s hard to translate that gut-busting, warmth that spreads deep inside whenever I see my kids in the Pine Village environment into words – this weekend I was reminded a little bit as Will (i.e., kid #2) and I walked with Pine Village in the Boston Pride Parade.

This was the first time that our family has had a chance to participate. I’m not sure where we’ve been for all these years, but we do travel a lot, so it’s not always easy for us to do the weekend stuff. Since I’ve been working more closely with Pine Village over the last few months, though – and since I haven’t had a chance to partake in a lot of the other events that PVP has been represented at over that time – I really wanted to share in the experience. And what an experience it was.

The Pine Village Crew

There’s something about walking through the streets with thousands of people cheering you on that brings a smile even to the surliest of faces. And, well, Will can most definitely be on the surly side; it’s been known to happen enough that I have a whole series of photos of Will sulking his way through various landmarks – Monticello, Four Corners…

Luckily, the surliness isn’t usually part of what Will shows the public for the most part; that is mostly reserved for those of us on the homefront. But knowing this other side of him exists and seeing it are two entirely different things. Watching Will scoot his way from side to side of the parade route, seeking out kids to give stickers and seed packets to, was, well, gut-busting and warmth-spreading. If I hadn’t been so focused on not tripping and falling on my face in front of the crowds, I might even have cried a little. (O.k., so maybe I did. Cry that is.)

Beacon: the final stretch

But what also made me smile was knowing that I was marching with an organization – a preschool – that doesn’t only talk the talk, it walks the walk. (Literally. I clocked 19,000+ steps!) And it’s been doing so for years. Long before it was fashionable – for ten years, to be precise – Pine Village has been marching in the Pride Parade. It was the first preschool and toddler program to do so, and it’s been doing so each year, ever since. More importantly, it’s been preaching – and carrying through – the message of acceptance for all families – regardless of family makeup, regardless of background, regardless of just about anything else you can think of – since day one.

So, yes, Pine Village is definitely about the Spanish. It is a Spanish immersion program, after all. But what is also infused through every moment, action, and its very existence, is the love. Every family, every child, every day.

Books and My (Sweet Baby) James

I am so ridiculously happy to say: this week's blog is about books. In honor of our Authors' Month curriculum theme, which, o.k., is now officially over, but since I wrote this on the night of April 30, I'm still within the bounds. 


As you know, my hope had been to write about books last time, but there was the bombing, and then the lockdown, and books just didn't cut it. Not when I felt like I was living in the pages of one. 

The last week -- thankfully, gratefully -- has been much more what I hope will remain the norm. Deadlines, way too much on my plate, but nothing involving SWAT teams or CNN.

With that said, Tuesday kicked my butt. It was a beautiful day, no doubt about that - gorgeous weather, managed to get myself to the gym for the first time in, oh, maybe five years. I even voted. But overall, the day just got to me. No question.

It started out with a work thing. One of those things that shouldn't have been a big deal but turned out to be so much more of an issue than it should have been. And that put a spin on just about everything else for the rest of the day. So I wasn't in that great of a mood when I set off to do the round of pick-ups for the day. And what a round it was. With my husband at a class and unable to pitch in until the 8 p.m. Lucy dance pick-up, it was up to me to do the crazy drill:

4:30 pick up Will in Brighton
5:00 pick up James in Watertown
5:20 pick up Lucy in Newton
5:45 drop off Lucy at cello lesson in Watertown
6:30 be home in Brighton for Will's guitar lesson
6:30 pick up Lucy at cello lesson
7:00 drop Lucy off at dance class in Newton

As you'll no doubt note, that doesn't actually work. First of all, it's impossible to be two places at once. Even those of us who are horrible at math know that the 6:30 p.m. Brighton/Watertown split is tough. Second, fitting in dinner for three kids -- 2, 10, and 13 -- isn't exactly the easiest given the schedule above. (And, yes, I know that making sandwiches for everyone would have been ideal, but see previous paragraph about work. I barely managed to get out of the house to get to Will at 4:30. Sandwiches weren't making it into today's game plan.) And, third, the schedule left no room for error. So when, say, Will wasn't ready right at 4:30, and then needed to run back into the school, and then said we'll meet out in front but didn't see the car so he ended up not showing up, well, it just served as a continuation of the workday. Which did not bode well.

Needless to say, we were late picking up James. And then late picking up Lucy. We somehow managed to get Lucy to cello on time, but by then Will was angry with me because I'd clarified that when he began the ride by saying he had no homework to do, it actually meant he had no homework due on Wednesday. Having an entire vocabulary packet due on Thursday and a Social Studies project due on Friday, however, meant that Wednesday night would be well spoken for, so no more games on the iPhone, homework folder out instead.

Did I mention that Will gets surly when he doesn't eat?

O.k. New plan: call the Watertown Domino's and order pizza for pick-up. Done. (No judgment, please.) Lucy dropped off, pizza picked up, back at the house with a whole twenty minutes for Will and James to eat their pizza. And, thank goodness, they got the "light sauce" right on Will's pepperoni. Ten whole minutes of peace. I could even get James into the car so that we could be ready to go when Dan (Will's guitar teacher and all-around wonderful friend of the family) showed up. But I neglected to factor in James's 6:22 pm poop.

"I can not go right now, Mommy. I am not done yet."

Sigh.

I managed to finally convince him that I could change his diaper before he was fully done with his twenty-minute cycle of pooping -- also managed to get Will to not draw the line in the sand right then about whose cars were whose -- and get him outside at 6:30. What I didn't manage was to convey to Will that he could not then finish his homework before starting his guitar lesson, so that was another seven minutes. Finally rolled up to Lucy's cello lesson at 6:47. Sigh again.

McDonald's drive-thru for her (please hold off your judgment for just a little bit longer), and, then, finally, got her to dance class. 7:04 p.m. Not great, but could have been worse.

Driving home along the Charles, I was not in the best mood. James helped with his running commentary. ("Boats, Mommy! They are swimming!!!!") But, oh, how I was ready to be home and done with the craziness. Which was when I let my guard down.

We got home just as the lesson was ending and, having the chance to talk to another adult, I ignored the raucous laughter in the living room that I knew meant Will and James were playing a game that they should not be playing, and instead decided to hang out and chat with Dan. Less than ten minutes later came the kind of crying that I knew meant blood was involved. And, yes, there was James lying on the floor, his temple bleeding from where he'd fallen off the couch pillow (or, rather, been hit by a pillow wielded by Will and pushed off -- yes, o.k., some judgment here is appropriate) and hit a stack of Legos on his way down. It was not a good moment. And yet, I guess, the kind of end I expected to this incredibly aggravating day. I managed to clean it off, get the Neosporin on (my husband laughs, but I can't rest until I get the Neosporin on), and then the Elmo band-aid.

Wasn't this post supposed to be about books?

Yes. And here goes: while James was nearly inconsolable, crying in pain, the only thing that calmed him down was sitting back in our "bink" chair, binky in his mouth (sorry, no judgment allowed again), and a stack of his favorite books. And I, unsure how to determine whether a two-year-old has a concussion or not, took comfort in his knowing exactly what books he wanted. First up, the "sheep" book. In this case, he didn't mean Sheep in a Jeep (one of my personal favorites) or Sheep on a Ship (both by Nancy Shaw), but Lucy the Lamb. So, o.k., technically not about sheep, but the lamb was close enough.

Then came Oh My Oh My Oh Dinosaurs! Now, of the Sandra Boynton books -- many of which are translated into Spanish, incidentally -- I have to admit, my favorite Boynton books are But Not the Hippopotamus and Hippos Go Berserk. But, honestly, I have no issue with dinosaurs. And what I was happy about Tuesday night was that, despite the big bump on his head, James went through all the usual motions: his routine counting of the dinosaurs on the last page (he can't actually count, mind you, but he was close enough), pointing out which dinosaurs are green, etc.

The last book of the night was my choice: A You're Adorable (Martha Alexander). It's a song that my mom used to sing to me, so when I came upon the board book way back when Lucy was a baby, I couldn't help but snatch it up. And I'm so glad that James loves it. He sings along throughout the whole alphabet, except he has to stop at "M-N-O-P" because of the girl with the puppy, and then at "Q-R-S-T" because he has to talk about how the boy on the bicycle is pulling the train.

And there it was. These days I don't get a lot of time to read books of my own; I figure that time will come again. But I'm thrilled that sitting down in that chair and reading a few books made as much of a difference to James as it did to me. Those moments and those three books put the rest of the day into perspective. If I could end every day holding him in my arms, his cheek to my cheek, working our way through the stacks of books on the table beside us… It's worlds away from where the day began -- hearing him giggle his way through the alphabet was a good thing. A great thing. So thank you, Authors' Month, for reminding me to fully appreciate the joy and comfort that even just a few words per page can bring.

Of course, I should end by noting that, unlike me, my husband didn't rely on general behavior to test for a concussion. "Did you ask him who the President was?" he asked, only half jokingly.

"He's two," I answered. "Of course he doesn't know who the President is." (Although at two Lucy could name the three Buffy boyfriends, to my mother's deep dismay.) 

"Well, let's try him," Kelley said, as we stood there by the crib. He turned to James, looking at him expectantly. "So?"

After looking at Kelley, and then at me, James put his binky back in his mouth. "Obama."

The End.





 

I Believe

This past weekend was, for some of us, Easter Weekend. And, no, this isn't about to be about religious beliefs or different spiritual traditions – this is about the all-important question of, well, the Easter Bunny.

My ten-year-old is a jumble of personalities. He can be so incredibly sweet – making sure to grab that extra lollipop for his sister or worrying that his baby brother feels scared and alone when put into his crib for bed. At the same time, he can easily whack that brother in the head with a soccer ball or say the most obnoxious thing to his sister. "It's not my fault!" rolls off the tongue much more easily than "I love you, Mom," I'm sorry to say.

And as Saturday night rolled around, it was his question I was dreading: "Mom, is there really an Easter Bunny?"

Now, don't get me wrong. It isn't the first time this has come up. In fact, it isn't the first kid that I've had to go through this with. Lucy, my now 12-year-old, however, went about it in a different way. She sat me down one summer – well outside of any concerning calendar events – and said, "Mama, I need to ask you a question. And I need you to promise me that you'll tell me the absolute truth."

Given that she was about six at the time, the answer was a no brainer. "Of course," I said. I couldn't imagine not telling her the truth about whatever she wanted to know.

Except then the question came: "There's not really an Easter bunny, right?"

Um…

So I stammered and backpedaled and looked for a way out of the promise I'd just made. And in my very unhelpful silence, she followed it up with, "I mean, is there really a big bunny that walks around and brings candy to, like, everyone in the world?"

That one I could answer easily. "Not everyone in the world celebrates Easter, Luce."

The withering glare she gave me indicated that she wasn't falling for the stalling bit, not even a little.

So you'd think that when the question was raised by Will all these years later that I would have had my wits about me. Especially because, as I said, it wasn't the first time he'd asked. He, too, began to question the existence of a six-foot tall rabbit bearing chocolate and jelly beans. Being a second/third/fourth grader these days doesn't allow for much in terms of innocence. But in previous years he asked in such a way that it was more than easy to brush off the question; I got the sense that he was more than happy to be allowed to believe.

This year was a little bit different. He's ten, after all; a world weary fifth grader. He's walked through CVS and Target and seen all the candy displays. So this time when he asked, I decided to go with the words that his sister had handed me years ago.

"Well," I said, my heart pounding loudly, "it's not like there's a big bunny that walks around handing out candy."

I know. You're hoping that his answer was a casual shrug and a smile and a "Yeah, I kind of figured." Right? Because that's what I was hoping the answer would be too. I mean, he's ten. World weary and all that.

But when he looked at me, there was disappointment in his eyes. "Really?" he said, in a sad kind of way.

Then came the shrug and the answer I'd hoped for, but I knew it wasn't real.

So I quickly and wholeheartedly said, "But I believe."

Thank goodness he didn't ask me in what – because I couldn't with a good conscience continue with the six-foot-bunny thing. But he gave me that sweet innocent smile and then he nodded happily.

And you know what? I do believe. (So don't get me started on Santa.)

It Takes A Village

Yes, the whole "It Takes A Village" thing is cliche, but this week I am truly living that statement and reminded that cliches exist because, well, they're often true. 

It's hard to go far in the parenting literature without coming across an article about the differences in how U.S. parents raise their (our) children now versus how it all worked just a few generations ago. The specific topic that's hitting home for me today is that so many of us live so far away from our extended families whereas not so long ago the opposite was true. For many Pine Village families this is even more acute because of the many whose families don't just live a city or state away, but an entire continent. Or, to come at it from a different angle, those who have come to the U.S. from a culture in which living in the same city/neighborhood/house (pick all that apply) is still the norm. 

Both my parents grew up in neighborhoods that were filled with family. My mother often speaks of the Brooklyn triple-decker in which she grew up along with her grandmother in the apartment below her, her aunt and uncle in the apartment above, and many more aunts, uncles, and cousins living on the same block or right around the corner. I have memories as a young girl going to visit my father's grandmother in a different triple-decker, but one similarly filled with various generations of his family. (The major difference between the two was that in my mom's family they all talked to each other whereas in my dad's they stopped speaking to each other at least a decade or two before. But that's another story entirely.) As the parent of three, I can only imagine what it would have been like to know that, regardless of what time I had to leave the house or come home there would be someone there to let the kids out or in. I recently read an article by Rod Dreher in which he talks about moving his family from Philadelphia to his very small hometown of Saint Francisville, Louisiana. He recounts an incident where his cousin happened to come across his 8-year-old son after a bicycle mishap. "When I crashed," he quotes his son as saying, "so many people came to help me, and they all knew who I was." 

To be honest, my small(ish) hometown wasn't anything like his. In fact, once, when my children were much younger (and before James even existed), we attended the City of Boston's tree-lighting ceremony in Brighton's Oak Square. While looking around at the children all running and playing together, the families greeting each other, the general goodwill and, yes, holiday spirit, my mother commented that she'd always wanted to experience that kind of town-center feeling -- who would have thought that the place she would see it was in Boston, a city ten times the size of where I grew up in terms of population. 

This week I would have done just about anything to be living in one of those triple deckers in Brooklyn. This week I happen to be playing single parent and am having to navigate the daycare drop off and pick up, the vacation camp drop off and pick up, the getting to work (reasonably) on time, not to mention the snow/ice banks that still exist everywhere and add in a whole other dimension of the commuting experience that I could very easily live without. If only I had the aunts, uncles, cousins, etc., who could come to the rescue. 

But I am grateful that in this big "impersonal" city, I have the next best thing. I have the housemate who sat in the car with two-year-old James this morning while I parked two snowbanks away from the Y and then took ten minutes to get in and out of there while dropping off ten-year-old Will. (Not to mention who actually strapped James into his car seat while Will played on the ice-covered mountain in our front yard and I carried out the various bags that everyone needed for their day.) And, with a class that I couldn't skip last night, I was grateful that my mother-in-law, who had James for the day, then picked up Will and brought both of them home. And that our housemate got them dinner and played cars with James and generally kept Will occupied so that he didn't destroy the house while I was out. And that our next door neighbor was willing to have a two-year-old and ten-year-old dropped off for a half hour in between just in case the mother-in-law and housemate schedules didn't quite match up. 

So although I will still be at a pretty high stress level for most of the time my husband is out of town, I am so very grateful for the village that will help me get through until he returns. 

Greetings!

Hello Pine Village friends! Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jen Doyle, and I've just begun working with Pine Village in the area of communications, which will include regular postings to the blog. Just to give you a little bit of background, I'm the mom of two Pine Village alums - Lucy, 12, and Will, 10 - and a future Pine Village student, James, 2, who will be entering the Brighton school in the fall. We are thrilled to be back!

Over the coming months, I hope to bring you more about what's happening in the schools, what's happening with our teachers and directors, and what's happening out there in the field of early childhood education, bilingual education, and just some things that might be of interest in for the day-to-day experience of loving and raising our kids. (If there's anything in particular in which you're interested, please don't hesitate to send me a note at pvpjen@gmail.com.)

So, for example, as the mother of 10- and 2-year-old boys who can't stay out of each other's business, I, for one, am very interested in the FREE play date at the Needham location this Saturday (2/16 - rescheduled from its original date of 2/9). For a full hour (9:30 - 10:30), I can sit and play with James -- or possibly even sit and relax while James plays with his contemporaries -- and know that for at least one hour on Saturday, I don't need to worry about his big brother kicking a soccer ball at his head. ("But, Mom, I wasn't aiming at his head -- if he hadn't stood up right then, it would have been a fair kick!" -- Don't even get me started about the fact that, yes, this was happening inside because of the two feet of snow on the ground, or that a ten-year-old boy shouldn't be playing full out soccer with his two-year-old brother, period.)

Also, for those of you who are considering the South End school (or know someone who is), you are invited to a combined open house/science fair on Saturday, 2/23 (10 - 11:30 a.m.). The South End PVP kids will be showing off their science projects -- and showing their families (big brothers and sisters included!) what they've been during this month in which Science is the theme of the curriculum. (So, of course, we hope that all of the South End families will be able to attend as well.)

If you are interested in either of the above events, please see our events page at http://mybilingualpreschool.com/events/ for registration information. (Both events are FREE, but we do ask for RSVPs so that we have everything we need to accommodate everyone.)

Which brings me to my final thought for the moment. Back when Lucy was in her first year at PVP, she came home one night and kept going on and on using words that sounded suspiciously like "vertebrates" and "invertebrates." Since she was all of three years old (and not exactly a whiz at pronunciation -- because, yes, she was three), my husband and I wracked our brains trying to think what she could possibly be trying to tell us since, obviously, the concept of whether a creature had a spinal column or not (full disclosure -- I had to actually look that up just now; I mean, I was pretty sure that I knew what it meant, but still...) seemed a little bit beyond her age range. But lo and behold, the next morning when I walked in to drop her off, there was her teacher Alicia pointing out the various wildlife around them (birds, squirrels, even the ants on the pavement) and asking these tiny little beings -- i.e., our precious children, not the birds, squirrels, ants, etc. -- to think about whether each of the animals and insects they were seeing was one as opposed to the other. To this day I attribute my older kids' curiosity and joy of learning to a preschool environment that both challenged and inspired them each and every day. Although the teachers and we parents are always thinking about school in terms of 'curriculum,' to them it's just another day of fun.

I look forward to bringing you more about the fun they have throughout their Science-themed month -- and I hope you, too, will share your kids' experiences as you attend the schools' science fairs in the coming weeks.

On that note, I'll leave you with a picture of James showing his skepticism as his own concept of the world was challenged a bit when a wall of snow greeted him this weekend when we opened up our front door. Until next time...

Spanish Tip of the Week: A game to try at home

If you are looking for more opportunities to practice Spanish with your children, repetitive games, songs, and rhymes can be a great way to build vocabulary and increase your child's comfort level while using Spanish. Try this game at home to practice syntax and color names. Remember, in Spanish we usually put the adjective after the noun, such as in camisa azul (blue shirt), pantalones rojos (red pants), or zapatos negros (black shoes). This game will help you practice.

“¿Dónde está el osito?” 

Cover some paper cups with colored construction paper, or have your child color or paint white cups.

Hide a small object under the paper cup (like a small bear) and have your child guess where it is by asking them...

 “Where is the bear?”
“¿Dónde está el osito?”

(Dohn-deh eh-stah el oh-see-toe)

Only the person who hides the object can touch the cups so they HAVE to practice their Spanish to figure out where it is!

Encourage full sentences like...

“The bear is under the blue cup.”
“El osito está bajo el vaso azul.” 

(El oh-see-toe eh-stah bah-joe el vah-soe ah-sool)

Keep guessing in Spanish until they find it. For more variations, label the cups with letters, numbers, or shapes instead of using colors.  Most importantly, HAVE FUN!!

Easy Playdough Recipe

Do you need some fun to brighten up your snow day?  You probably already have all the ingredients you need to make playdough.  Try this easy recipe or find more options here.  Not only is this a fun cooking project to do with your family, but you get to play with it when you're done!

Playdough Recipe

Ingredients:

1 cup flour
1/2 cup salt
1 cup water
1 Tablespoon oil
2 teaspoons cream of tartar
Food coloring by drops**

Directions:

1. Combine all ingredients in a pan and stir.  Cook over low heat, stirring until a ball forms.

2. Add food coloring and mix thoroughly until desired color.

3. Cool on foil. Store in covered container.

**You may prefer to add the food coloring to the water before mixing, though this will give you less control over the final shade.  As an alternative, try adding koolaid, peppermint, lemon extract, glitter or any other fun items to your playdough!

Leave a comment below to let us know what fun activities your family has in store for today!

Spanish Tip of the Week- Pretend Vacations

Take a pretend vacation and practice Spanish!

It is cold out lately in Boston- and then it's fairly mild- and then it's cold again.  All this back and forth just seems to make the colder days that much colder!  If you are like many of us, you're spending a good portion of these "colder days" planning imaginary vacations to warmer places.  So why not put those plans to good use?  Even if you can't get away right now, you can use some items you probably already have at home to spend some quality time with your children and practice Spanish at the same time!  Plan and execute a pretend trip to a Spanish-speaking country.  Whether you are fluent in Spanish or can only say a few words, use as much as you can when you "arrive".

During the months of November and December, many of our schools did Transportation and Travel themes to coincide with the holidays when families are often actually traveling.  Here are some pictures from our Needham school where the teachers and children created an "agencia de viajes" or "travel agency" in their dramatic play area.  

You can make one at home quite easily.  Ours had a travel desk, and a lounge-area for planning journeys, but you could use anything-even your kitchen table.  If you are a member of AAA or other such organization, you can obtain free travel guides and maps to use as well.  Otherwise, you can use any materials you happen to have around the house, or print information and pictures from the internet.  

Once you have planned your journey, you are ready to get on the airplane!  This can be as simple or as elaborate as you like.  All you really need though, are a few chairs arranged in rows, and maybe an aisle (depending on how big your plane is, of course).  The teachers at Pine Village Needham even created a beverage cart out of a set of plastic drawers on wheels.  It came complete with plastic cups and a pitcher for the children to serve drinks.  If you don't have one of these carts, you can use anything you do have around the house, such as a tray or even a flat piece of sturdy cardboard. You and your children can pretend to have the plane take-off and land.  Once you disembark, remember to use as much Spanish as you can as you play out all the activities you will be doing on your trip.  Maybe you would like to go horse-back riding, or swimming, or biking.  The sky's the limit!  

 Just don't forget to bring your passport!

If you like what you've seen here, you will love the Pine Village Spanish Immersion Summer Camp!  During the summer months, we take imaginary vacations to a different Spanish-speaking country every two weeks.

Session 1: July 1 – July 26 (closed on Wednesday, July 4^th)

Session 2:  July 29 – August 23

iVengan y Exploren con nosotros!!