Sunday, October 5, 2008
It's Not My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To
Last Thursday Elizabeth B. marched into preschool and proudly announced that today it was her birthday. Oh the excitement!!! She got several special birthday privileges that day including getting to be first to choose her job for the day, wearing a special birthday crown at snack time, and choosing a prize from the Birthday Prize Box. At the very first privilege bestowed upon Elizabeth, several of her classmates loudly announced that it was their birthdays also, which was followed by "It's MY birthday!" and "No, it's MYYYYY birthday!" followed by tears. This became a repeated theme throughout the morning. Until one little girl named Sophie M. gave up on stating it was her birthday, folded her arms, and proclaimed that it was NEVER going to be her birthday. Over and over again. "It's NEVER going to be my birthday!" Tears tears tears. Oh the drama. All of this prompted Mrs. Singh to look at the class roster to see when everyone's actual birthday was. Our next celebration won't be until next month. And Sophie M. has to wait ALL the way until January to be the Birthday Princess. It's so hard being 3.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
The Preschooler Whisperer
In case you're not up-to-date on my work-life, several weeks ago I took on an additional position at work as a Three's Preschool Class Assistant. The real name of this position should be Kitten Wrangler. Nope, not even Cat Wrangler. What makes this preschool unique among preschools is that it is housed at a dance and gymnastics academy. What do you think we do every day? Yep.....dance and gymnastics. Oy.
Thursday mornings is the day we do gymnastics. It's a nearly impossible task to get 13 three year-olds lined up, let alone getting the lined-up kids to walk downstairs in single file. After some shoving and pushing down the long staircase into the gym, they are supposed to line up with their little feet on a line on the gym mats. Hahahahaha. Besides my class of 13 little ones, there is our counterpart class of 2-1/2 to 3 year-olds AS WELL as at least one other gymnastics class for preschoolers in progress. It's too bad we don't make the groups wear matching t-shirts, because all kids that size look about the same. This is where I become a kitten wrangler as I get one of our kids back into the herd just as another one is trying to escape to the other group because that group is doing just the thing that the escapee wants to do.
How does any of this make me a "Whisperer"? Switching topics now, one of our activities is a potty break. Andrew is a kid that likes to take both his pants and underpants completely OFF before he sits on the potty. Which means that one of us, usually me, has to help him get them back ON when he is finished. Andrew is not very coordinated. I know this because he usually stands on TOP of the pants that I'm fervently trying to pull up onto his body, so I have to pick up both a naked him and his pants to get them on. Andrew is a tall and solid 3 year-old boy. This isn't easy. I've heard my cohort plead with him to keep his pants down around his ankles while he pees, to no avail. The other day it was my turn. I told him that I knew he could sit on the potty with his pants pulled down but not completely off. I explained as I sat him down that his pants were doing to stay RIGHT THERE. I closed the stall while he did his business. I fully expected his pants to be in a pile on the floor when I opened the stall, but LO and BEHOLD, they were still perched at the end of his feet. Progress! I praised him up and down, and he grinned with pride. Later I told his mother that Andrew had a milestone today. I knew she fully expected me to talk about some neat thing he said, and that I could understand him completely. Andrew's speech is hardly there, so far. Nope, I told her with a grin, Andrew kept his PANTS on while he went potty. Oh boy! She said her husband will be SO happy to hear that since he, in particular, gets rather frustrated with having to dress him every time he goes potty.
I'm a Preschooler Whisperer, I tell ya. I can't wait to see if by next Tuesday Andrew will repeat this major feat. I'll keep you posted.
Thursday mornings is the day we do gymnastics. It's a nearly impossible task to get 13 three year-olds lined up, let alone getting the lined-up kids to walk downstairs in single file. After some shoving and pushing down the long staircase into the gym, they are supposed to line up with their little feet on a line on the gym mats. Hahahahaha. Besides my class of 13 little ones, there is our counterpart class of 2-1/2 to 3 year-olds AS WELL as at least one other gymnastics class for preschoolers in progress. It's too bad we don't make the groups wear matching t-shirts, because all kids that size look about the same. This is where I become a kitten wrangler as I get one of our kids back into the herd just as another one is trying to escape to the other group because that group is doing just the thing that the escapee wants to do.
How does any of this make me a "Whisperer"? Switching topics now, one of our activities is a potty break. Andrew is a kid that likes to take both his pants and underpants completely OFF before he sits on the potty. Which means that one of us, usually me, has to help him get them back ON when he is finished. Andrew is not very coordinated. I know this because he usually stands on TOP of the pants that I'm fervently trying to pull up onto his body, so I have to pick up both a naked him and his pants to get them on. Andrew is a tall and solid 3 year-old boy. This isn't easy. I've heard my cohort plead with him to keep his pants down around his ankles while he pees, to no avail. The other day it was my turn. I told him that I knew he could sit on the potty with his pants pulled down but not completely off. I explained as I sat him down that his pants were doing to stay RIGHT THERE. I closed the stall while he did his business. I fully expected his pants to be in a pile on the floor when I opened the stall, but LO and BEHOLD, they were still perched at the end of his feet. Progress! I praised him up and down, and he grinned with pride. Later I told his mother that Andrew had a milestone today. I knew she fully expected me to talk about some neat thing he said, and that I could understand him completely. Andrew's speech is hardly there, so far. Nope, I told her with a grin, Andrew kept his PANTS on while he went potty. Oh boy! She said her husband will be SO happy to hear that since he, in particular, gets rather frustrated with having to dress him every time he goes potty.
I'm a Preschooler Whisperer, I tell ya. I can't wait to see if by next Tuesday Andrew will repeat this major feat. I'll keep you posted.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
I Can See Clearly Now
A friend of mine has a small aircraft and a flying license to go with it. I expressed an interest to go flying with him one day. That day was Friday. Did I mention that his plane is small? Tiny is a better word for it. My friend mostly flies by himself. The reason being that to be a passenger in the tiny craft, you have to be rather tiny yourself. As in not taller than 5'2". Luckily, I meet that requirement....exactly. I guess you could be taller since I did have room above my head, but getting in and out of the back passenger seat is quite a challenge. If you're taller, then your flexibility and gymnastics skill have to go up accordingly.
He told me that noise is a problem. The unprotected ear would go deaf after 10 hours of being exposed to the engine noise. I forgot to mention that the engine is directly behind the passenger's head. He gave me ear plugs and noise-cancellation head phones with an intercom so we could talk to each other. But with the engine at full-throttle, it was nearly impossible to hear each other through the intercom. So he turned the engine down each time he had something to say to me. Unsettling!!!
He asked me where I wanted to go, so I suggested the coast since I knew he flew to Seaside just to have lunch sometimes. The weather didn't look too promising over the coastal range, but he gave it a go. Nope, cloud ceiling was too low, and it looked like rain on the other side. Instead we flew north and landed in a tiny airfield in Scapoose, which is about a whole 30 min. by car north of where I live. It gave us a chance to stretch our legs and visit the port-o-potty. Did I mention that getting in and out of the plane is the most challenging part? Lucky me, I got to practice it again.
Next we flew towards the gorge, flying over the Columbia river. It was beautiful. But motion sickness started to be an issue for me. He said that the air was bumpier than usual. Bleh. I figured out that by focusing on the horizon I was able to keep my breakfast down.
We landed safely on the airfield outside of Hubbard, OR, in the middle of the country. On our drive back to civilization, he told me that it was a little freaky flying over the river because there's no really good place to land in case of engine failure. He also said he doesn't like flying over populated areas for that same reason. The sign of a good pilot is that he/she is constanly scoping places to land "just in case". He said I could fly with him again. I guess that means I met the two major challenges: 1) I could get in and out of the seat and 2) I was able to tolerate the noise. I'm not so sure about the queasiness I felt for the rest of the day. Maybe that wouldn't be an issue with better flying conditions.
He told me that noise is a problem. The unprotected ear would go deaf after 10 hours of being exposed to the engine noise. I forgot to mention that the engine is directly behind the passenger's head. He gave me ear plugs and noise-cancellation head phones with an intercom so we could talk to each other. But with the engine at full-throttle, it was nearly impossible to hear each other through the intercom. So he turned the engine down each time he had something to say to me. Unsettling!!!
He asked me where I wanted to go, so I suggested the coast since I knew he flew to Seaside just to have lunch sometimes. The weather didn't look too promising over the coastal range, but he gave it a go. Nope, cloud ceiling was too low, and it looked like rain on the other side. Instead we flew north and landed in a tiny airfield in Scapoose, which is about a whole 30 min. by car north of where I live. It gave us a chance to stretch our legs and visit the port-o-potty. Did I mention that getting in and out of the plane is the most challenging part? Lucky me, I got to practice it again.
Next we flew towards the gorge, flying over the Columbia river. It was beautiful. But motion sickness started to be an issue for me. He said that the air was bumpier than usual. Bleh. I figured out that by focusing on the horizon I was able to keep my breakfast down.
We landed safely on the airfield outside of Hubbard, OR, in the middle of the country. On our drive back to civilization, he told me that it was a little freaky flying over the river because there's no really good place to land in case of engine failure. He also said he doesn't like flying over populated areas for that same reason. The sign of a good pilot is that he/she is constanly scoping places to land "just in case". He said I could fly with him again. I guess that means I met the two major challenges: 1) I could get in and out of the seat and 2) I was able to tolerate the noise. I'm not so sure about the queasiness I felt for the rest of the day. Maybe that wouldn't be an issue with better flying conditions.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Gotta Dance....Gotta Dance!
Do you KNOW how fun it is to learn how to tap dance? I've admired tap dancers and their craft since forever....really. I think my mother's enthusiasm for the art form rubbed off on me at a very young age, starting at 3. Well then, why the heck did I NEVER study tap dancing as a kid? It just was never an option. We were a musical family, not a dancing family, so music it was. Ok, I lied. My mother and I took an extremely lame summer tap dancing class through our town's park and rec program one summer when I was about 17. The teacher was about 83. I didn't learn much about tapping, and I certainly didn't learn anything about style since I wore those STUPID patent leather Mary Jane tap shoes that tie with the ribbon. Picture a dainty, little-girl tap shoe on a size NINE foot. Under a chubby teenager.
Fast forward many, many, MANY years. I am a proud mother of two beautiful and talented girls who are dancers. I'm am positive if given the chance they would be excellent musicians, but dance is the activity in THIS family. I discovered that their dance studio offers adult tap classes. My heart got all fluttery when I first learned this. BUT, I just couldn't make the class happen for me at that time. Not enough money, no time, etc. etc. etc. At each new issue of the class schedule, I pined away for the adult tap class. Then a series of miracles happened. I got a job at the dance studio which meant reduced fees. The time of the adult class seems to fit into my family's schedule. My little one was old enough to stay up late enough (sort of) so I could attend the class. Poor Charlotte was definitely stretched to the max as I forced her to go to bed 1/2 hour past her bedtime one night a week so I could do this. She also had the privilege of sitting through my class while she either did her spelling homework, drew pictures, or snoozed on the mats. Meanwhile, Abigail took an acro class at the same time as my class. A miracle.
There is much for me to say about my first year of tap, but I will save much of it for later. Suffice it to say, the year culminated with a real, honest-to-God recital performance sandwiched between the highest peforming group at the studio (to Mika's "Grace Kelly) and a preschool class doing an acro routine where they were dressed up in frog costumes. Our song was Michael Buble's "Can't Buy Me Love", and I NAILED it. At least that's what they told me. People I didn't even know came up to me afterward to shake my hand and tell me what a fantastic job I did, and that I stood out in the group, etc. etc. etc. Being the loyal employee I am, I told them the day and time of the summer adult tap class.
Greetings!
Welcome to my blog! Blogging is the thing to do these days, so I decided to jump on the bandwagon and will hopefully land on my two big feet. I suspect writing in this blog will be a way to clear my head of those myriad of thoughts that tend to ricochet around my pretty little head.
I am more than half-way through my Week Without My Girls. This is at about the point in my separation from them that I start to mope. Each time they go for a week or more with their dad, I think that I won't mope this time, but I always do. Heck, even the two cats are moping. Have you ever seen a moping cat? It's a very sad sight indeed. They sit near me and give me long, mopey looks. They walk in and out of my girls' bedroom, wondering when they'll be back.
Where are said-girls? At this point in their vacation, they are visiting their grandmother in the Bay Area. I believe that their planned activity for today is to go to Marine World, which will pale in comparison to Disneyland, where they just spent 4-1/2 days. They fly back home Sunday at noon, so I will be getting them back a couple of hours after they land.
I am more than half-way through my Week Without My Girls. This is at about the point in my separation from them that I start to mope. Each time they go for a week or more with their dad, I think that I won't mope this time, but I always do. Heck, even the two cats are moping. Have you ever seen a moping cat? It's a very sad sight indeed. They sit near me and give me long, mopey looks. They walk in and out of my girls' bedroom, wondering when they'll be back.
Where are said-girls? At this point in their vacation, they are visiting their grandmother in the Bay Area. I believe that their planned activity for today is to go to Marine World, which will pale in comparison to Disneyland, where they just spent 4-1/2 days. They fly back home Sunday at noon, so I will be getting them back a couple of hours after they land.
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