When we got pregnant with Emil, we had a quandary. We live in two bedroom, one bathroom house. Where would we put the new baby? I reasoned that children around the world have shared bedrooms forever. I myself shared a room with my brother until we were about 10. But as we shared the big news with friends, neighbors and family, everyone wanted to know when we were going to move into a bigger house. After all, we live in the age of the McMansion, where every child must have his own bedroom and his own bathroom, in addition to a shared play room/media room.
We decided for the meantime, at least, that the children would be fine sharing a bedroom. We were both nervous about how the kids would sleep, whether they would wake each other up or not. We also worried that Esme might have trouble making the mental transition from "Esme's room" to "the kids' room." We needn't have worried.
I have found that the children don't disturb each others' sleep, even if they're trying to. Yesterday afternoon, when Emil had woken from his nap while his big sister was still off in dreamland, I heard this furtive grunting coming from the bedroom. "Nuh, nuh, nuh." It's hard to translate, but if he were speaking English, he would have been saying, "Hey! Wake up!" I walked into the room to find Emil standing in his crib staring intently at Esme while he was grunting. He smiled when he saw me, and was happy to be scooped up and whisked away. Esme slept for another hour without a problem.
Esme has also managed to fall asleep while Emil cried in his crib, protesting his own bedtime. She doesn't wake up when he cries in the middle of the night either. And perhaps the best sign of successful room-sharing came yesterday, when Esme precociously referred to the room as "the children's room" for the first time (it was still Esme's room in her mind a week ago).
As I flipped through the pages of the latest Parents magazine, I found an article on just this subject. The writer says that despite the trend for children to have their own rooms in America, experts say that it is healthier for siblings to share rooms. Among the benefits listed were learning how to cooperate and building stronger bonds. Whether it is the living situation or their natural personalities, I have to admit that my kids love each other dearly. Of course they have their moments of jealousy and sometimes they fight over toys, but in general, they really enjoy each other's company.
Will they be able to share a room forever? No, probably not. But for now, this is definitely working.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Thursday, July 19, 2007
The Art of Blogging
I was just reading Emily's comments on my post about teaching second languages, and the thought bubbled up (as it has before) that these types of conversations we're able to have through The Daily Spitup are invaluable to me.
It's almost like letter-writing, except that we have set the topic of parenting for all of our exchanges. Posting to the blog enables me to take an experience, whether it is a major endeavor like potty training, or a little moment, like watching the children play together, and internalize it. It makes me more thoughtful about my parenting techniques, and gives me the satisfaction of hearing other viewpoints on the issues that I face every day. It's not like email, which is usually typed up and sent without too much thought. It's a different kind of outlet, and one that gives me much satisfaction both as a writer and as an analytic thinker.
I was resistant to blogging for a long time, thinking of it as an online diary. Blogging as an art is much like journaling, in that it allows for unique points of view and it often allows individual styles to shine through where other, more formulaic outlets mute individuality. But in its best form, it is more than a journal. A journal is presumably written for the author. A blog is written for an unlimited audience. The best blogs have distinct styles: witty, irreverent, flirtatious, informative, gossipy, etc. For me, it has been a practice in the art of the essay, adopted for the modern world. What technology has added to this ancient art is the ability to record and constantly add the readers' views, thus making it a conversation rather than a monologue. So thank you, Emily, for all of your comments. And for the others who have posted their own thoughts. Keep them coming.
It's almost like letter-writing, except that we have set the topic of parenting for all of our exchanges. Posting to the blog enables me to take an experience, whether it is a major endeavor like potty training, or a little moment, like watching the children play together, and internalize it. It makes me more thoughtful about my parenting techniques, and gives me the satisfaction of hearing other viewpoints on the issues that I face every day. It's not like email, which is usually typed up and sent without too much thought. It's a different kind of outlet, and one that gives me much satisfaction both as a writer and as an analytic thinker.
I was resistant to blogging for a long time, thinking of it as an online diary. Blogging as an art is much like journaling, in that it allows for unique points of view and it often allows individual styles to shine through where other, more formulaic outlets mute individuality. But in its best form, it is more than a journal. A journal is presumably written for the author. A blog is written for an unlimited audience. The best blogs have distinct styles: witty, irreverent, flirtatious, informative, gossipy, etc. For me, it has been a practice in the art of the essay, adopted for the modern world. What technology has added to this ancient art is the ability to record and constantly add the readers' views, thus making it a conversation rather than a monologue. So thank you, Emily, for all of your comments. And for the others who have posted their own thoughts. Keep them coming.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Teaching Toddlers/Preschoolers a Foreign Language
Jacob and I just got into a heated discussion in the car over whether Esme should learn Spanish or Chinese. Standing back, it seems a little ridiculous that we're debating what language our 2-year-old should be learning (and that I am advocating she should be learning, or at least exposed to, two foreign languages right now). I recognize I have the tendency to be a hyper-intellectual parent. I confess to having labeled things around the house so that Esme might be able to recognize the words.
But being hyper-intellectual, I have done a lot of reading on this subject, and I have applied my own common sense enough to know that there are windows of opportunity for learning. The developing mind and tongue are at their best for language learning at Esme's age. Americans generally don't think they need a second language, but I disagree. We are moving into a more global community, and I feel like my children will benefit tremendously from knowing languages other than English.
Esme already recognizes and understands a decent amount of Spanish. If I ask her, "Tienes hambre, Esme?" she answers, "Yes, I'm hungry." I have achieved this through video tapes that she loves to watch, speaking to her in Spanish regularly, and reading to her in Spanish. She loves the videos and the books, but she looks at me a little funny when I speak in Spanish at home. (In Spain, she was fine with it because everyone was speaking Spanish.)
So what is the best method for teaching a young child a foreign language? Immersion is the only way to get the child speaking that language fluently. Immersion can take place in a foreign country, with a primary caretaker (a nanny or a parent speaking another language), or in regular play groups with children that speak other languages. I make this last comment because I truly believe that children learn so much more from other children than they do from adults.
But immersion isn't the only path to a second (or third) language. My goal with Esme isn't that she be fluent in a second or third language by the time she's three or even four. I simply want to expose her to other languages, using repetition and child-friendly media like videos and books, so that it's not so foreign to her. I know that my own path to speaking Spanish has been a very gradual one. After not having advanced much in years (since we moved away from Spain), on my last trip there, I catapulted to a new level. This is a residual growth process, and it doesn't happen overnight.
Because traveling and thinking globally are so important to me, I expect it to be important to my children, too. I feel like giving them other languages at a young age is one of the best gifts I can offer. No, I don't expect them to be fluent, but by being exposed now, if they choose to pursue languages further when they're older, I believe it will be much easier for them. I'm careful not to make it a high pressure situation for the children. It's all fun learning. Esme begs to watch her Muzzy video in Spanish (from Early Advantage) and her Bonjour Les Amis video in French, and she loves reading her books in Spanish.
A word on Early Advantage, though. If you're thinking about getting videos for your kids, I have to say that the Early Advantage program is expensive and not very compelling. It lacks interactive elements and is basically just a 2-disc cartoon story. There are other DVDs on the market that are much less expensive. You can even check them out from the library.
But being hyper-intellectual, I have done a lot of reading on this subject, and I have applied my own common sense enough to know that there are windows of opportunity for learning. The developing mind and tongue are at their best for language learning at Esme's age. Americans generally don't think they need a second language, but I disagree. We are moving into a more global community, and I feel like my children will benefit tremendously from knowing languages other than English.
Esme already recognizes and understands a decent amount of Spanish. If I ask her, "Tienes hambre, Esme?" she answers, "Yes, I'm hungry." I have achieved this through video tapes that she loves to watch, speaking to her in Spanish regularly, and reading to her in Spanish. She loves the videos and the books, but she looks at me a little funny when I speak in Spanish at home. (In Spain, she was fine with it because everyone was speaking Spanish.)
So what is the best method for teaching a young child a foreign language? Immersion is the only way to get the child speaking that language fluently. Immersion can take place in a foreign country, with a primary caretaker (a nanny or a parent speaking another language), or in regular play groups with children that speak other languages. I make this last comment because I truly believe that children learn so much more from other children than they do from adults.
But immersion isn't the only path to a second (or third) language. My goal with Esme isn't that she be fluent in a second or third language by the time she's three or even four. I simply want to expose her to other languages, using repetition and child-friendly media like videos and books, so that it's not so foreign to her. I know that my own path to speaking Spanish has been a very gradual one. After not having advanced much in years (since we moved away from Spain), on my last trip there, I catapulted to a new level. This is a residual growth process, and it doesn't happen overnight.
Because traveling and thinking globally are so important to me, I expect it to be important to my children, too. I feel like giving them other languages at a young age is one of the best gifts I can offer. No, I don't expect them to be fluent, but by being exposed now, if they choose to pursue languages further when they're older, I believe it will be much easier for them. I'm careful not to make it a high pressure situation for the children. It's all fun learning. Esme begs to watch her Muzzy video in Spanish (from Early Advantage) and her Bonjour Les Amis video in French, and she loves reading her books in Spanish.
A word on Early Advantage, though. If you're thinking about getting videos for your kids, I have to say that the Early Advantage program is expensive and not very compelling. It lacks interactive elements and is basically just a 2-disc cartoon story. There are other DVDs on the market that are much less expensive. You can even check them out from the library.
Friday, July 13, 2007
At the end of the day
I've had one of those long, long days where parenting a young baby and a big toddler has made me frazzled, and of course the more frazzled I get the more difficult they, and everything else, becomes.
Maybe it's because the rainiest July in forever means there are less options outside, but sometimes full-time parenting is unbelievably hard. I felt pretty slick this morning- everyone washed and dressed, breakfast (oatmeal and eggs) cooked, eaten and cleaned up, walk enjoyed (complete with puddle-jumps), poodle skirt made from scratch for carnival, bread baking and laundry washing. All with Aretha Franklin providing the soundtrack. Iit was a happy morning and the children were divine- sort of making up for my sleepless night.
Then it all changed when Imogen boycotted her nap. She's doing this lately and I think is growing out of it. The only problem is that for the afternoon of a no-nap day she becomes a clumsy, tearful, slobbery toddler then needs to go to bed at 6pm.
And that was our afternoon: she woke Atticus up a couple of times, so he was cranky and overtired. I was exhausted and trying to get a dinner ready and house tidied a little with him in sling and her arguing, then tripping over and needing a cuddle. By the time I laid him in his moses basket, all I needed was a glass of red wine in a candle-lit bath. It was not to be, and he woke every 5 minutes for nearly an hour with gas, not his fault. The fact that I needed a little time to myself meant that each time I settled him was less calm than the previous, and so less likely to encourage a deep slumber. Hence he was more likely to reawaken. I used to think taking a class of teenagers camping in Yosemite for a week was tiring until I had young children!
Finally, though, all are asleep and wine is breathing. I can relax. The candlelit bath will have to wait, though, until we've installed the tub in the bathroom!
Maybe it's because the rainiest July in forever means there are less options outside, but sometimes full-time parenting is unbelievably hard. I felt pretty slick this morning- everyone washed and dressed, breakfast (oatmeal and eggs) cooked, eaten and cleaned up, walk enjoyed (complete with puddle-jumps), poodle skirt made from scratch for carnival, bread baking and laundry washing. All with Aretha Franklin providing the soundtrack. Iit was a happy morning and the children were divine- sort of making up for my sleepless night.
Then it all changed when Imogen boycotted her nap. She's doing this lately and I think is growing out of it. The only problem is that for the afternoon of a no-nap day she becomes a clumsy, tearful, slobbery toddler then needs to go to bed at 6pm.
And that was our afternoon: she woke Atticus up a couple of times, so he was cranky and overtired. I was exhausted and trying to get a dinner ready and house tidied a little with him in sling and her arguing, then tripping over and needing a cuddle. By the time I laid him in his moses basket, all I needed was a glass of red wine in a candle-lit bath. It was not to be, and he woke every 5 minutes for nearly an hour with gas, not his fault. The fact that I needed a little time to myself meant that each time I settled him was less calm than the previous, and so less likely to encourage a deep slumber. Hence he was more likely to reawaken. I used to think taking a class of teenagers camping in Yosemite for a week was tiring until I had young children!
Finally, though, all are asleep and wine is breathing. I can relax. The candlelit bath will have to wait, though, until we've installed the tub in the bathroom!
Mirror, Mirror, in the Child
Jacob was out of town, so it was up to Esme to comfort me as I battled a nasty case of food poisoning (I don't know why I bother to eat meat anymore - my stomach is too sensitive!). Esme patted me on the back as I threw up into the toilet bowl. "It's okay, Momma. You're going to be just fine." And it was genuinely comforting, even though it was odd to experience this little role reversal.
It struck me that she was doing exactly what I have done for her when she was sick, and her sweetness was touching. I'm not sure whether she was actually empathizing with me, or if she was merely mimicking my behavior. But I have noticed that she has a lot of endearing behaviors that are clearly copies of what she sees me and Jacob do, and that makes me feel pretty good. She likes to comfort people and dolls, and often plays pretend at taking care of her little dolls, which tells me that she is growing up in a sufficiently comforting home. She watches us and thinks, "Oh, people take care of each other. I can do that, too!" If only we can sustain that through adolescence and beyond the immediate family, I will feel like an extremely successful parent. Of course, I recognize that it is partly personality, too. There are some little girls that want nothing to do with dolls, and it doesn't mean they don't have loving parents. But I'm sure they find other ways to mimic they're parents' behavior.
Okay, so there are those moments that are frustrating or just plain funny when Esme mimics not-so-pleasant behavior. It took me the longest time to figure out that this weird little sideways glare she gives was actually a copy of my Stern Look, which is quickly administered whenever I don't approve of a certain behavior. And then she has mastered the Command Voice, that is mostly used for the dog, but occasionally gets used with the children, too. But parents aren't perfect. As Esme reminded me the other day when I spilled a drink, "It's okay mommy, I sometimes spill things, too."
It struck me that she was doing exactly what I have done for her when she was sick, and her sweetness was touching. I'm not sure whether she was actually empathizing with me, or if she was merely mimicking my behavior. But I have noticed that she has a lot of endearing behaviors that are clearly copies of what she sees me and Jacob do, and that makes me feel pretty good. She likes to comfort people and dolls, and often plays pretend at taking care of her little dolls, which tells me that she is growing up in a sufficiently comforting home. She watches us and thinks, "Oh, people take care of each other. I can do that, too!" If only we can sustain that through adolescence and beyond the immediate family, I will feel like an extremely successful parent. Of course, I recognize that it is partly personality, too. There are some little girls that want nothing to do with dolls, and it doesn't mean they don't have loving parents. But I'm sure they find other ways to mimic they're parents' behavior.
Okay, so there are those moments that are frustrating or just plain funny when Esme mimics not-so-pleasant behavior. It took me the longest time to figure out that this weird little sideways glare she gives was actually a copy of my Stern Look, which is quickly administered whenever I don't approve of a certain behavior. And then she has mastered the Command Voice, that is mostly used for the dog, but occasionally gets used with the children, too. But parents aren't perfect. As Esme reminded me the other day when I spilled a drink, "It's okay mommy, I sometimes spill things, too."
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Farewell nanny
It all went down in the parking lot of the B of A, where I had withdrawn the nanny's final pay for the two days in the past two weeks that she has actually shown up. I waited and waited, telling myself that I would never have to wait for her again. She finally pulled up, and we had that awkward goodbye that is inevitable when firing someone.
It was a sad moment. I really liked the nanny as a person, and she was wonderful with the kids. She just wasn't at all reliable. She was supposed to be here at 9:30 yesterday morning, and she called at 9:32 to say she was sick. We've had this talk so many times before, because she's done this so many times before. It wasn't a first, second, or third warning. It was the final straw, and I was the camel. It sounds like such a small thing - she didn't call to tell me she was sick at least an hour before she was supposed to be here, per our agreement. But it was on the heels of countless other events, like coming in 3 hours late without a courtesy phone call. There have been days that I have sat here and wondered if she died on her way to work. And having an unreliable nanny kind of defeats the purpose of having a nanny at all. It's made it impossible to schedule interviews or meetings with my editors. I never know when she is going to show up.
Several months ago, a friend looked at me and said, "Which is worse, flaky nanny or no nanny?" I guess I've made my decision. No nanny is better than flaky nanny. At least I know I don't have childcare lined up, rather than wondering if I do. So Emil is going to join Esme at her daycare as there are openings. Meanwhile, I'll continue this incredibly frustrating juggling act of being an active, involved parent while trying to maintain my own career. It almost seems easier to just quit my freelance work and focus solely on parenting, but that would be just as frustrating.
The truth is that parenting involves sacrifices. But I look at my baby boy, who gives me the biggest grin in the world and then crawls toward me at top speed, and I hear Esme say, "I love you, Mommy" as she throws her arms around me, and I know that this is so worth it.
It was a sad moment. I really liked the nanny as a person, and she was wonderful with the kids. She just wasn't at all reliable. She was supposed to be here at 9:30 yesterday morning, and she called at 9:32 to say she was sick. We've had this talk so many times before, because she's done this so many times before. It wasn't a first, second, or third warning. It was the final straw, and I was the camel. It sounds like such a small thing - she didn't call to tell me she was sick at least an hour before she was supposed to be here, per our agreement. But it was on the heels of countless other events, like coming in 3 hours late without a courtesy phone call. There have been days that I have sat here and wondered if she died on her way to work. And having an unreliable nanny kind of defeats the purpose of having a nanny at all. It's made it impossible to schedule interviews or meetings with my editors. I never know when she is going to show up.
Several months ago, a friend looked at me and said, "Which is worse, flaky nanny or no nanny?" I guess I've made my decision. No nanny is better than flaky nanny. At least I know I don't have childcare lined up, rather than wondering if I do. So Emil is going to join Esme at her daycare as there are openings. Meanwhile, I'll continue this incredibly frustrating juggling act of being an active, involved parent while trying to maintain my own career. It almost seems easier to just quit my freelance work and focus solely on parenting, but that would be just as frustrating.
The truth is that parenting involves sacrifices. But I look at my baby boy, who gives me the biggest grin in the world and then crawls toward me at top speed, and I hear Esme say, "I love you, Mommy" as she throws her arms around me, and I know that this is so worth it.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
The Discipline Can of Worms
Esme is two and a half years old, and while I keep telling myself it's just the age, I'm not so sure. The only thing I'm sure about is that she is finding all of our buttons and pressing them for all she's worth.
We use time out. She has to sit still for two minutes (minutes = age, per all the experts' advice) and tell us why she's in time out before she can get up. But lately, I swear, it's like she wants to get in trouble. She refuses to answer questions when spoken to, she almost never says "please" without being reminded to, she knocks her baby brother over, and perhaps the worst thing is that she gives us this obnoxious attitude. Today we had a chat about okay behavior versus not-okay behavior, and I asked her if she liked going to time out. She answered yes, she liked it, and that she liked it when Mom and Dad got mad at her. So I gave her time out again, watched her scream and yell, only to tell me afterwards again that she liked it. What's up? Are we raising a masochist? It seems like a stupid way to test boundaries to me, but I have to be honest: I don't understand what she's doing.
Esme has always been an incredibly sweet child. But lately, she has gotten very bossy, using her Command Voice rather than talking politely. It's driving me so crazy that we have started sending her to her room and closing the door. The first time I did this, Jacob was shocked. "You can't lock her in her room," he said. But her behavior quickly improved. Tonight, I heard him warn her, "I'm going to put you in your room and close the door if you continue to behave like this." I guess he's decided it's not such evil punishment after all. There has to be some recourse if time out isn't working.
We don't feel good about doing it. But what do you do when your child refuses to listen to you and acts like a brat? I'm hoping this is a phase, and short one at that. I firmly believe that discipline and boundaries are important for young children. Structure and limits enable a toddler to thrive. But dealing with a preschooler who is testing those limits plum wears me out. I guess it's time to hit the child psychology books again, trying to find that fine line between allowing my child to walk all over me and scarring her permanently with our methods of discipline. My guess is that it's like most things - only found in personal experience rather than in academic texts. Of course, Jacob's dad pointed out once that she's likely to be sitting on a therapists' couch complaining some day regardless of what we do.
We use time out. She has to sit still for two minutes (minutes = age, per all the experts' advice) and tell us why she's in time out before she can get up. But lately, I swear, it's like she wants to get in trouble. She refuses to answer questions when spoken to, she almost never says "please" without being reminded to, she knocks her baby brother over, and perhaps the worst thing is that she gives us this obnoxious attitude. Today we had a chat about okay behavior versus not-okay behavior, and I asked her if she liked going to time out. She answered yes, she liked it, and that she liked it when Mom and Dad got mad at her. So I gave her time out again, watched her scream and yell, only to tell me afterwards again that she liked it. What's up? Are we raising a masochist? It seems like a stupid way to test boundaries to me, but I have to be honest: I don't understand what she's doing.
Esme has always been an incredibly sweet child. But lately, she has gotten very bossy, using her Command Voice rather than talking politely. It's driving me so crazy that we have started sending her to her room and closing the door. The first time I did this, Jacob was shocked. "You can't lock her in her room," he said. But her behavior quickly improved. Tonight, I heard him warn her, "I'm going to put you in your room and close the door if you continue to behave like this." I guess he's decided it's not such evil punishment after all. There has to be some recourse if time out isn't working.
We don't feel good about doing it. But what do you do when your child refuses to listen to you and acts like a brat? I'm hoping this is a phase, and short one at that. I firmly believe that discipline and boundaries are important for young children. Structure and limits enable a toddler to thrive. But dealing with a preschooler who is testing those limits plum wears me out. I guess it's time to hit the child psychology books again, trying to find that fine line between allowing my child to walk all over me and scarring her permanently with our methods of discipline. My guess is that it's like most things - only found in personal experience rather than in academic texts. Of course, Jacob's dad pointed out once that she's likely to be sitting on a therapists' couch complaining some day regardless of what we do.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Going Green
I was just cleaning up the toys when I noticed that Esme's little shopping cart was full of cardboard boxes of play food, complete with a much-used brown paper shopping bag, and I realized that it's not an accurate mimic of our actual shopping trips. We use reusable bags (which are much nicer to carry than plastic bags and never break like plastic bags), and we hardly ever buy frozen or prepared foods. We even make our pie crust from scratch these days. We are definitely on the road to being a green family, although we have a long, long way to go.
I've been reading increasingly about a trend to attempt eating locally, or in other words, using only foods that are grown close by. There are a number of reasons why this is a good idea: it's a healthier, more sustainable model of farming than big agribusiness. It's also healthier to eat the freshest foods available (i.e. food that hasn't been shipped or flown a great distance).
I have been trying to buy mostly local produce from the grocery store or G. Berta's produce stand (which I haven't been to lately because I haven't been driving to Half Moon Bay much), but I'm not being totally strict about it. When local corn popped up, we were stoked. It was so much tastier than the corn that was being brought in from Southern California just a month ago. Ditto with the green beans. I'm contemplating signing up for a local produce box delivery service. We did it years ago, but I had trouble using all the veggies and fruit before they went bad. But now, with a family of four, we might be able to make it work.
I guess living a healthier, better-for-the-environment lifestyle will always be a journey because no one's perfect and our knowledge is always changing. But it feels good to be making baby steps.
I've been reading increasingly about a trend to attempt eating locally, or in other words, using only foods that are grown close by. There are a number of reasons why this is a good idea: it's a healthier, more sustainable model of farming than big agribusiness. It's also healthier to eat the freshest foods available (i.e. food that hasn't been shipped or flown a great distance).
I have been trying to buy mostly local produce from the grocery store or G. Berta's produce stand (which I haven't been to lately because I haven't been driving to Half Moon Bay much), but I'm not being totally strict about it. When local corn popped up, we were stoked. It was so much tastier than the corn that was being brought in from Southern California just a month ago. Ditto with the green beans. I'm contemplating signing up for a local produce box delivery service. We did it years ago, but I had trouble using all the veggies and fruit before they went bad. But now, with a family of four, we might be able to make it work.
I guess living a healthier, better-for-the-environment lifestyle will always be a journey because no one's perfect and our knowledge is always changing. But it feels good to be making baby steps.
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