Froggy Goes Hollywood

BB got some screen time the other night, so its time for fair turn-around ;)

P and E had a project a few weeks ago. They would make a movie with Froggy. Though P's plush pals are rather round characters, cardboard descriptions would follow thusly:
BB: The ever devoted younger brother who often misunderstands situations. He is scared of numerous things and is therefore fabulously fun to both torment and teach.
Sock Monkey: Hmmm, a little ornery, he's a yarn weaver, loving tall tails and chase based games.
Froggy: Well, basically, Froggy is a fuck. Seriously. He's ornery, tricky, argumentative, and when pushed to his limits, becomes "Super Froggy," the likes of which are not pretty.

From this cast, P has his choice of playmates, and yet, Froggy gets playtime. I don't get it. Well, I guess I do, a little:) When P picks Froggy, the gloves come off. Its jungle rules. Though I'll still hear him ask polite questions on occasion, or try to communicate cooperatively, generally there is just shrieking. Happy shrieks that evolve into pissed off shrieks, then foot stomps, then strongly worded directives to Froggy on how to be a better friend. When P picks Froggy, he has to be tough, stand up for himself, fight for his rights... and he can play a little rotten too :) Now, I just watched the clip below, in which (in typical sneaky Froggy form) Froggy appears to be a pretty nice guy, while the Little Man plays the part of hellion. Rest assured, this was all provoked, pre- camera roll. Well, mostly provoked...

Because, when the three of them decided to make a movie, P and Froggy fought all evening about how the movie would go. Which, basically, became the movie...

Halloween 2009

P, as I've mentioned before, is always P. Unless he is Woof-Woof, the imaginary dog that is P's only alter-ego. Despite finagling numerous costumes in the last two years, he will not wear them in front of anyone but me, and even then, only briefly. (One evening, sporting his bat costume, the Little Man realized it was near E's arrival time and was in a frenzy to remove the polyester velour. He hurriedly explained that Papa wouldn't know who he was! When I reassured him that Papa would always recognize his little boy, P asked, astonished, "How?!" He was a bat, for gawd's sake, how on earth would E figure him for a boy? :) Even with me, after a moment or two, he has to slide out of pirate garb to make sure I know its still him. While this has been a long standing habit, of late, its climbed to new heights.

In fact, I can no longer speak in any voice but mine or BB's. I'm prone to accents, funny voices, being a natural dork and all. P, however, will stand it no longer. If I slip into something silly, he claps his hands (his current physical exclamation point) and yells "Just. Be. Mama!!!!" Sometimes he even adds a foot stomp. Seriously, lately he gets lost so completely into his imagination, he can't see the neon signs pointing back towards reality.

Long story short, the kid wanted to Trick or Treat this year, but had no interest in sporting a costume. Yet, he knew it was expected and wanted to play by the rules. Tough conundrum. I mentioned he could accentuate something that is a part of him, rather than being something he is not. He could be an Explorer, a Painter, a Rock Collector... He suggested a paintbrush. Great! He suggested a Tree. Great! He suggested a Mountain, with hiking trails, a moose, a little river, lots of trees and a tiny BB, hiking on the trails. Chased by a bear. Ummm, not so great. So, of course, this is the one he wanted :)

Fortunately, when Halloween morning rolled around a day or two later, P wasn't in the mood to make a costume. He just wanted to ride Rody. Perfect! I said. Be a Rody Rider. So he was.

He greatly wanted me to accompany him Trick or Treating. I greatly wanted to go. But E is unable to make hummus, home-made pita bread and fancy brownies (P's requests for his first big Bday party, falling on the following day) so the roles were set and off they went. Fabulous Aunt Alicia and Uncle Seth tagged along and P, reportedly, had a great time.

He returned home with the rain and set to organizing and categorizing his new candy collection. He didn't unwrap a single piece of it, but trick or treated, over and over, with Froggy and BB, from his cardboard box "house" :) I'm fairly certain he was the only "Wody Widah" that day, and has received a number of blank stares when relating his "costume" choice. Next year, we'll have to pick something he can pronounce a little more clearly....

Kansas Car Car

P pulled the old red fire truck out of the basement the other day and was pleased to find his legs long enough to push the pedals. Outside, he instructed BB to follow along behind, which the monster gladly did. Then The Little Man grabbed his best buddy and plopped him on the back for a real ride. Moments later BB was, quite purposefully, knocked off. I kept the camera rolling. Were I a betting kinda gal, I could have placed good money on how the scene would unfold....

Warehouses

The Little Man still prefers swirls and abstracts, but every once in a while he has a story to tell while painting. He popped this out before we left town, catching me by surprise since he hadn't ever painted anything like it. He said it was a warehouse in the fall...

Seriously?

After dinner, as I wash the dishes and do normal motherly duties (not to say they couldn't be fatherly too - just that E hasn't seen P all day, so..), E and P play. Seriously play. There is shrieking, laughing, running, strange voices, toys everywhere and, quite often, at least one set of bruises per night. Typically, Froggy is involved for a while, until his, um, ornery personality pisses P off. Then there is typically a brief, imaginative break, during which E is not E. Like tonight (I'm sick and therefore get to skip matronly chores in lieu of butt sitting) I hear gruff voices and a child astride my husband's back saying, "Go find Grams, Bear, but you may not eat her." Then, shortly thereafter, "Bear, go find Froggy." And, whalah, E is busy doing two voices, alternating a falsetto Frog and a grizzly Bear. Occasionally P becomes so involved in the play that I hear E cry out in pain... The Little Man having chomped on the irritating Frog, forgetting Papa's fingers lie within...

Well, as I walked the laundry through the kitchen (back in Brooklyn, before our trip to Kansas) one night, there were the boys (seen above), doing... ummm, I don't know. But they were taking whatever it was quite seriously, no? I heard the word "guard" tossed around as I put up the towels...

P gets unbelievably frustrated with his father (they are two peas in a pod and therefore butt heads beautifully), I just hope he realizes at the same time how lucky he is to have such a perfect playmate.

I wish...

P has taken to safety pinning Medium Size BB to his pant leg for even more constant companionship and ease of reach...


Before leaving town, P and I spent an evening hanging out in Unions Square, watching the skateboarders. Feeling inspired, the Little Man flipped, jumped and flung himself from the stairs and bike ramps, eventually landing at the wishing fountain (by the Ghandi statue.) There, a little girl tossed in a penny. P was hot to make a wish too and started to scrabble for a penny from the bottom of the fountain, eventually tossing in one from my bag instead :) As he whirled his arm, he muttered under his breath, but all I caught was the word "BB."

"Whaja wish for?" was met with a "Its a secret, Mama." I patted his head and we headed towards E's office. Not ten steps further, P was gushing. "Ok. I can tell you, Mama. Do you know what I wished for?" Me, head shake. P, uncomfortable squiggle. "I wished for BB to be real."

My heart actually seized up on this one :)

P and BB are suuuuch good friends. Best friends, really. The only catch being that.... BB isn't real. I've gone back and forth and back and forth over the years, swaying between concern (is this totally loony???) to heralding its fabulousness (built in play therapy!) and more. I know its normal, especially for onlies, to have imaginary friends. And for kids to role play with their parents. And for certain dolls/toys to seem larger than life in childhood. (P actually believes BB to be magic. He's not one for anything non-factual, but one day we left BB in the middle of the playroom. When we returned, BB was under Papa's desk. P was beside himself with excitement. I had no explanation for the situation and P, ever the scientist, went through all possible theories and found flaws in each and every one - except for the most obvious. BB is magical, really and truly.)... Anyway, BB combines all of these childhood standards. Nevertheless...well, I don't even know. Just, nevertheless :)

So, here we are back in Kansas, and P and BB are having a blast exploring together. (I'd prove this with pics but.... we forgot to pack the camera card transfer thingamajiggy that gets the pics from the camera to the computer...) So, anyway, P and BB were enjoying their little slice of heaven yesterday, playing with this teeny tiny ladder from an old fire truck. The ladder stands about a foot tall by a few inches wide, with a few rungs, and P was putting it up against anything and everything and then wiggly balancing his way up. He'd then turn and watch BB climb up. Or, snatch it out from under BB as BB started to climb. Its always a toss up :)

As they skipped across the wall they had just scaled, I lost my hold on BB and he fell into the hedge below. And bounced. P looked on in surprise, then quickly swept BB up and tossed him into the hedge again. Again, the doll rebounded without sinking through the leafy top. The Little Man loved it. It was pretty funny to see, especially P's astonishment, so after a few more goes, I started to raise my camera to capture it all on video. As I reached for the camera it all went into slow-mo though, because I heard P mutter "Hey, I want to try that."

Do I raise the camera and capture what is sure to be utterly hilarious, or do I throw myself across the hedge to protect my kid? At the same time that my hands are working on the camera and my mind is working on a decision my mouth is trying to form the words "Stop!" and "It won't hold you!" Of course, the kid is waaaaay too fast for any of this. I accomplished absolutely nothing, no capturing of the kid or the camera and couldn't even spit out a warning, before he'd already taken a flying leap.

Needless to say, he didn't bounce. And it was, honestly, gut busting. I know that sounds awful, but he was fully clothed (read: padded), not very high up (its not a ginormous hedge or anything) and its a really leafy bush. By the time he cast a confused glance my way (wha? I didn't go boinga?) I was, well, already busting a gut. He instantly grinned too, seeing the humor in the situation. Then he shrieked, "BB!! Did you see that?!!!"

Ahhh, one of the pitfalls of having a 10 ounce, fluffy best friend. He bounces when he pounces on a privet. The Little Man, not so much....

A video free life...

I know this is in no way related to anything I mentioned in the previous post, but its been brewing for a while now. We've been video free for a little over three months here, and its about time for another babblingly, boring blog post anyway, so... ;) (Really, there's no way to sum up the whole subject in one post, but that won't stop me from trying...)


I don't know if I've mentioned it or not, but whole life unschoolers trumpet the tv. Along with giving kids the space to listen to their own minds (research what excites them) and bodies (eat what they want (in a well informed environment!), sleep when they want etc), the kids generally watch what they want, when they want, too. And this works well for many. But I've also read posts of woe on the unschooling boards from the moms of kids that are decompressing all day, every day, in front of the tube. I also hear the standard reply. Join them in their joy. Observe what they are learning. Relax and they will too.... I've read all of the material, I get the philosophy. I also get the Waldorfian demonization of screen time. The consumption and anti-marketing issue (Watch this trailer for Consuming Kids, the Commercialization of Childhood, its a fascinating five minutes). And the middle road theory. And the research that says its addictive. That it causes ADD. The theory that it isn't addictive. That it changes brain patterns. That it will make our brains evolve in new ways. That it will make us brain-dead. That it will make us jump into ponds. The list is endless...

Cuz there's a lot of material out there on "screen time" these days. Much more than in the early '70's. Both E and I came from families that embraced the boob tube. Unlimited viewing, hampered only by school time and activities galore. Our busy parents enjoyed watching something in their downtime, the large box (sans remotes in those days!) dominating both of our family rooms growing up. So, while neither of us grew up lolling in front of the small screen (school, music lessons, friends and sports as natural deterrents) it was a constant, benign presence, peacefully available without any shameful connotations. (I had a few friends with strict one hour per day policies and thought that highly barbaric ;)

So I appreciated growing up without screen stigmas. It was just never an issue in our house. Nevertheless, our college dorm rooms didn't feature any viewing equipment. And we were always too busy studying, working or having fun to ever sit in front of the common space TV during college. So, it disappeared from our lives at age 18, never to really reappear....

Because once married, we made the conscious decision to forgo the time sucker. We started with a family loaner (both families were quietly appalled that we would live sans small screen) that slowly accumulated more and more dust. There were too many books to read, too many projects to complete, too many interesting discussions to be had. And after four years without the box, it seemed kinda silly. Contrived. The news was abysmally inaccurate. Granted, we were limited by bunny ears, there are bits of interest and even intelligence floating in over the more expensive waves ;) But we realized we wanted something else on that particular shelf, that there really wasn't any room in our lives anymore for the telly. So, when in need of entertainment or an artsy infusion, we would happily flounce off to the theater instead. Our news came from various online sources lacking in funding issues ;) We weren't anti TV, we just didn't need one ourselves.

And that was the world P was born into. The child, of course, was busy being a baby, and nonplussed on the subject.

Then he turned two and received a video for his birthday. He sat with rapt attention, viewing cartoon animals bobbing in front of his baby face. He barely blinked. Video gifts slowly leaked in over the next two years, but he rarely ever asked to watch anything, leaving our little DVD player gathering more dust. It was a fun novelty for long airplane rides and a godsend for high fevers (his or mine;). As he rounded out his fourth birthday he started to pull out his player whenever the thought struck him. But his preference was always play and I typically took the hint for what it was : P needed more of me. More floor time, less cooking. More book reading, less playdates or park times. It was a big beacon that he was either feeling under the weather or in need of story input. I appreciated such a simple sign. And while unwilling to put down external limits (forbidden fruit syndrome mixed in with consensual living theory), I also wasn't going to suddenly order satellite without a formal request. Unschoolers can trumpet the tube all they want, I still couldn't shake the few hundred ;) plus years of evolution pointing towards sticks and play as the natural learning ground for human children nor all of the various studies and theories I'd read over the years.... So we found a synchronicity that ignored the theories and focused on connection and all was well in our world.

Then, last spring, he found the DVD section at the Mulberry Street Library. Suffice it to say, this exploration was a wild journey for us. E and I trying to find ways to help P navigate the new stresses regular video viewing involved (for example, he would completely stress about returning the videos to the library, leading him to obsessively watch his weekly pick the day it was due. This was metered, a little, by trying Netflix instead. Or there was the new stress of unwanted words and actions suddenly being introduced. They came to him as if the word of god, a solid example of the outside world. Ummmm, sorry, but as I've mentioned before, I have no interest in Pixar mentoring my kid's actions. Nevertheless, there it was and there we were attempting to explain why other's don't perceive the word "stupid" as a neutral term while still attempting to relay that this doesn't mean the Little Man has to feel injured by the words of other's. A slippery and thin line to walk across with a four year old.)

Yet we embraced the newness. P's world was widening and we grinned at his excitement and tried to appreciate the novel talking points. We grinned less as he camped on the couch, barking orders for food, drink, the toilet. His temper seemed shortened. He grumped at us and was unusually demanding and angry whenever (that rare moment) we were busy. Maybe he was going through a growth spurt? Further pondering the change, I felt he wasn't getting his usual level of connection with us, his new passion usurping our usual roles as Center of the Universe.

Workarounds were again embraced. The old approach of more stories and cuddle time wasn't cutting the mustard. We spent hours reading. I tried harder to view his new loves with him, to meet his needs for connection in the space he was currently ensconced. (Honestly, this was near torture for me. I'm going on almost 20 years without a TV and a reintroduction by Clifford the Dog is enough to turn anyone off the stuff. And it didn't work anyway. The insane ability to focus that P inherited from his father prevented that...)

But I wanted P's video viewing to be about him, not about me or my worries or my fears or some study's shaky conclusions. I'd had my chance to watch whatever I wanted when I was a kid and I decided to happily walk away from it as an adult for a multitude of reasons. I have some reeeeally strong opinions about the business of television and the marketing of our children. But this was all stuff I could share with E, leaving P to his own joys.

If only it had been joyous, I woud have kept believing that story, too. But after a couple of months, there was no denying it anymore. P had became noticeably out of whack. I had recognized a difference when he first started watching stuff, but since we typically pulled out the DVD player while traveling or sick, I had always chalked the post show wonkiness up to those factors. But we weren't sick. Or traveling. And it wasn't new anymore either. He wasn't happy after he watched a show. He was quite obviously agitated in fact. Jumpy. Grumpy. Food plates, couch cuddles, debriefing sessions, wrestling breaks, nothing seemed to be mediating his media madness.

So we had a long chat, the kid and I. I told him what I observed and asked if he felt it too. He did. I asked if he wanted to hear my history with television. He was excited (he adorably loves hearing stories about E and I:) I asked him if he wanted to know why I choose not to watch television. He did. We sat at the table, talking about our reactions, our likes, our irritants. We talked about different studies and different people's opinions. Approaches friends take, family takes, and what sort of approach our family should take. Because it was obvious, even to the four year old, that something needed to change.

And so he decided to give it up at home. To have our home space be about connection and play and family. I know watching a show together can bring connection to lots of people (E and I included), it just didn't work that way for P. At least not right now. And some people are really relaxed by video viewing. This was also untrue for P (and me, actually, too!) It was uncomfortably stimulating for him. It was also uncomfortably expansive for him. I've mentioned before how much P takes in, how very little he filters. We positively cannot listen to NPR or any news stations with P around, he will spend the rest of the day worrying about wars and the carjacking in California. He will quiz us about that one drug the elderly shouldn't take. And who is elderly. And when will he be elderly. And will there be dangerous drugs for him at that time?

Movies are the same for him. He wants to know why there is a villian. Why someone would do something "wrong." Our experience with Wall-E pretty much said it all on this subject. But just to be clear, he wasn't checking out Star Wars or The Omen here. I'm talking Toy Story, people. P was absolutely mortified that Hero Buzz pushed the villain down an elevator shaft. The crowning glory? The villain claims to be Buzz's father, Star Wars style. P was beside himself with fake laughter and pointed questions as he uncomfortably replayed that scene over and over again, attempting order and sense. But why wouldn't Buzz know who his father was? Why would he push him off of the elevator? Why was his father trying to hurt him? Do fathers really try to hurt their kids???? And he would replay the scene again. This could look, to the outside observer, as if the child was actually enjoying the show, couldn't get enough of it. Not so. It upset him greatly and he was watching it again in hopes of making some sense out of it all.

Yah, I know lots of kids watch the stuff and laugh. I know.

So, once the regular brain stimulant was removed along with the regular injection of intense themes, the Little Man settled back into his life of luxury. His DVD player is in plain site, along with his video collection. We've gone to the library countless times in the last three months. Yet he has never, not Once, said he wanted to check something out. During the first week or two, when I would start dinner and he would notice my missing spot on the floor, he would mention missing movies. But in a nostalgic, that filled my time, sort of way vs an actual want. Because they had, in the last few weeks, started to fill in his time. Instead of painting or playing when I had to shower or vacuum, he would just turn on his portable tube. Without any effort on my part, the damn thing had accepted the role of vacuous babysitter. And the child had grown (surprisingly quickly!) accustomed to never filling in his own space. Once those spaces returned, he filled them beautifully and joyfully. I honestly don't know if it was this return to productivity and explosion of creativity that brought him peace or the removal of something he found overly stimulating and confusing. Either way, the whole family has benefited from his decision, P first and foremost.

Meanwhile, we offered to take him to the movie theater whenever he wanted, to have that option available in case he ever felt a void. We all felt that if it was something special, out of the house, it might work. And we wanted to support his decision while helping him to feel a sense of abundance rather than loss. That he could make such a decision without feeling deprived or unable. "Ponyo" (a Little Mermaid adaption by Miyazaki) came out a few weeks later. We had all loved "My Neighbor Totoro" with its appropriate themes and gorgeous animation, so we chatted about it extensively, watched the previews, and decided to go for it. He was excited on the way in. He was visibly upset on the way out, burying his head in my hair, refusing to talk for twenty minutes :( But he claimed to like it, to want to see it again... So a few weeks later we did. His response was watered down, but confusion still reigned. I understood. A little girl leaves her family for a new one. The father "tries to keep her in a bubble" (P's translation) and is menacing. The mother is an absentee goddess. (This, from the child's perspective. From the adult's it makes more beautiful, complicated sense.)

So we continued with our video free life. Nevertheless, I couldn't quite kick the feeling that he had given it all up too easily. He's so swayed by my thoughts, could I have, inadvertently, removed something he loved, shamed him away from something he needed to explore? So E and I offered on different occasions to take him to a couple of other shows we thought he'd like. Every time, P chose to play instead. He showed moderate interest in "Where the Wild Things Are" after two friends chatted it up. I went to preview it and knew almost immediately he would hate it (the kid bites the mother and then runs off, this would be entirely unacceptable to The Little Man ;) So I reported back and he agreed it was not his cup of tea, for now...

So here we are. Newly minted at 5, right about when I thought videos would be making a bigger and bigger footprint in our lives and we've gone the opposite direction. And, surprisingly, quite happily so :)

Five is Fab too...

A lot has happened in the last two weeks. P lost his first (known) relative, had his first real birthday party, trick-or-treated in Brooklyn for the first time, trick-or-treated without me for the first time, started sleeping without me for the first time (with E instead), was overwhelmed by his first mob, and then flew to Kansas. Less novel playdates and lovely afternoons of joy (and occasionally confusion) separated all of these milestones. And a few more days will probably separate this post from more descriptive posts :) I just wanted to stop in and say it: P is 5.

He's been five for almost a week now. When asked, he says it feels just like four ;) And truth is, its just as sweet so far. He woke up on his birthday and noticed our new toilet paper hanging in the bathroom. The new grocery store sells a different brand promising to save the environment than the last one did, this one with a raised flower print. P has only ever seen plain potty paper. He unrolled a bit and held it out to me "Mama! Oh, Mama! This is Gorgeous! Isn't it beautiful! I love it!" It is in these moments that I'm suddenly confused as to how the small creature in front of me can ever heighten my hackles....

I wish I had birthday pics to share, but the shots are stuck on my camera until the transfer card is unearthed here in Kansas.... Therefore, one must pretend the very nearly five year old four year old shown above is, actually, five ;) Nonetheless, he did spend an hour watching this spider with me a few days before the Bday, and again after the bday, so its fairly factual ;) He's quite enamored with this large beauty (though BB was mortified to be held so close, separating window or no) and P has high hopes it will remain in his window until his return from Kansas.... And here I thought everything would seem so passe to a five year old, so very been there done that. Silly me. The kid is still smack dab in the awe stage, which is so awe inspiring to witness. I can honestly say it. I love five. Too :)

Eat your heart out, Richie Tenenbaum...

P, caught mid creation, working on a Thank You note to the neighborhood art shop he adores...

A Lower East Side Painting Gig

When our fingers aren't dripping blood from the numerous sewing projects overtaking our table (can you say Hello Kitty Sewing Machine Heaven???), we are scooting after the budding socialite's busy social agenda. I know, I know, get over it already. But after almost 5 years of strong papoose preferences, the child is really stretching his limbs, climbing out of the cocoon of maternal closeness, right into full on boyhood. Bam. Just like that.

So the pics are getting fewer and further between. I'm not sure mums everywhere want their kid's mugs making waves in cyber space (ok, its more of a low-tide action around here, but you know what I mean.) But P insisted I capture the large scale painting he and some homeschool buddies beautifully rendered on a chilly afternoon two weeks ago (hey, you want quicker updates, come do my laundry ;), so I tried for some practically peer-less shots.

And speaking of laundry. We count ourselves uber lucky. The days of schlepping to a Brooklyn laundromat are behind us, our machine hides in the kitchen, ready to spit in our sink when called upon. Wha? Yah. When this was first explained to me, I was almost shell shocked. On the vast Kansas plains there is space for what we like to call laundry rooms. And they are very separate from kitchen sinks. But post laundry-mat, the sink spitter sounded swell sans laundry-room.

Until I realized the dishes must always be done to run a load. And due to its substantial size in front of the sink, there's little hope to toss in a load and simultaneously cook supper. Additionally, after two shocking floods from the sink spitters mouth (for which we were fortunately present) I'm too fearful to start a load after lunch and pop out for a play date. The nail in the coffin is its volume. After a year of daytime running, with P screaming over it and the words "what? I can't hear what you're saying Phoenix" exasperatedly escaping me, we have found a fabulous solution. (yah, we're slow around here.) So its now a bedtime routine. The dinner dishes are done, the kitchen is closed, the spitter is spinning and with any luck, we are no longer chatting...

I've lost my point. Oh, yes. So while we felt crazy lucky when we moved in (our own washer!!!!), like all things American, we have grown haughty in our needs, we scoff loudly, yet enviously, when the words "laundry room" cross someone's lips. It is then that I (internally, lest the Little Man overhear any judgement or want and thusly follow my sad and selfish suit) sigh and picture large lawns, laundry chutes amid multiple closets...

(The truth is, I feel compelled to tell about the humorously annoying parts of city dwelling, since I sometimes worry the blog falls unevenly to the side of tra-la-la-ing an ideal life. Especially when the kid is kicking it with artists on the Lower East, painting his heart out on a random Wednesday afternoon...)



Cuz, honestly, as we wound our way back the labyrinth like passages to the open air studio, tenements rising above, art hanging everywhere, I had to pinch myself, yet again, that this was my life. I know that's pitifully un-cool, so very transplant of me, so lacking in affectation its embarrassing :) After being Brooklynites for years, P and I shouldn't still be shocked at the beauty of the Empire State building. But we are. And since the Little Man is still so, well, little, he's right there with me in his awe and appreciation (I have no excuse ;). And its fabulous fun to have a constant compatriot in veneration.

So, P played with the paint, detailed a gorgeous piece in handmixed purples and gold (gotta have bling!) and chatted up the resident artist. As we scooted to the sub, we stopped in a matzoh factory to watch the big machines whirl and turn, split some tasties with some friends, and then headed home to a hot bath.

At the end of the day, I love my sink-spitter, its our reality check for a crazy lucky life.

Tea for three

Its often said in our homeschooling circle that what we all really do here is "in the world schooling" rather than home schooling. This has become increasingly true for P this "school" year. Well, all of it, except the "school" bit ;) We're still rocking the mornings-at-home rhythm that works so well for the Little Man, but the afternoons find us out in the world, exploring, playing with friends and enjoying life, almost daily. There are so many amazing options in NYC for homeschoolers, that I'm trying to make sure P's days/weeks are balanced, bringing him the immense amount of input he craves without forgetting the importance of the plain ol' play that P so treasures, A healthy mix of imaginative toy worlds and all of the crazy questions they spark in the morning, followed by acrobatics class, group trips, library visits, garden gathering, leaf collecting, museum hopping and sing-a-longs later in the day. Fortunately, this very loose schedule leaves plenty of time for tea parties and birthday celebrations for our favorite pink monster.... For what would life be with out a party for BB?

(Fall table decor by Phoenix:)

I love 4

I know, I've said it many a time, but I love, love, love four. And its very nearly over :( I thank my lucky stars every day that I get to experience four each and every day, cuz its flown by too fast!

So, it got cold here recently. (Have I mentioned that I don't love cold? Give me warm and humid any day all year, please, but make it in Brooklyn :) So the Little Man and I pulled down our winter clothes from our top shelf... to find that nothing fits him anymore! He really is almost five...

Leaving a neatly boxed stack of hats and mittens on the bed and a fully clothed child, I carried E's sweaters to his closet (yah, the one by the kitchen - gotta love New York living!) As I returned to the bedroom a mere minute or two later, the child had already managed to strip down, toss everything out of the nice, neat box, find his mittens and favorite hat, don them and start doing a dance on the bed while chanting something unrecognizable. I didn't catch it in the shot, but he was also sporting a faux fur boa. Yup. I freakin' love four. I honestly can't imagine five being nearly this amusing.

Hooked by Red Hook

E and I have long thought we probably belonged in Red Hook. Though we had never been :) Affordable loft spaces by the water in an artists enclave with great views pretty much nails down our search criteria. The hitch - no sub access. WTF? Thus the affordable bit...

But then I heard word of a monument to food lying in wait by the water: Fairway. Post co-op, we found ourselves, finally, trekking to the area for a peek. Two scooters and an hour later, we arrived at a little slice of Sunday heaven.

There was an art show going on (this was weeks ago now, I am, once again, behind!) and the sun was shining. We zoomed through Fairway and fell in love (with everything but the horrible motto hanging out front. Shop locally buy globally or some such nonsense. Its true they have everything under the sun, but loosely buying into the local bandwagon seemed a cheap shot when surrounded by peppers from Chile...) E was officially off the hook for the co-op, as soon as P and I could finagle a way to this nether-region food nirvana...

Satisfied with the shopping, we scooted along the water, watching the boats and Lady Liberty. We explored everywhere, dark buildings, strange plant shops, weird gardens, tiny docks, winding our way around, hopping gates and slipping under fences when necessary.




P finds some undulating equipment to fly around on:



And it hit me how times have changed for the Little Man. Used to be, we skipped pretty much everything. Holiday parties, restaurants, neighborhood walks, museums. You name it, the Little Man was probably too squirmy and unruly to be happy there. He needed floor play and intense focus to feel comfortable. And here he was, sailing around the city all day long, happy as a clam. If we stopped to catch our breath and the view, he'd drop down and play in the dirt. If we were on the scooters for a long duration, he'd weave a web with me about BB, shouting up to me over the ambient traffic noise the plot highlights so that BB (er, me) could properly respond. E and I would rather explore than just about anything (well, naps reign pretty supreme for E too...) and we're able to do it again without any guilt that the Little Man is miserable. Happy happy joy joy :)

E flies the coop and P reads cue cards...

P, exploring Red Hook, in search of grocery options...


So, E's flown the co-op coop. As his birthday neared and his two make-up shifts he'd layed to lurk reared their ugly heads, he said he was done. He didn't want to get up early on his birthday weekend to clean toilets and stack shelves. In fact, he didn't want to get up early to do those things again, ever.

We've been together since we were children. And we've figured out how to co-exist pretty peacefully, despite the wrench we threw into our idyllically easy pre-child existence (but gosh, he's a really cute and huggable wrench:). But when the man vetoed my path to perfect produce, I cried Big Fat Tears. I kid you not.

And I realized then, I'm a kitchen perfectionist. Call it snobbery, if you're feeling disdainful. I want my veggies farm fresh, non-irradiated, grown by local farmers, who till the soil with love. That's a lot to ask in our modern culture, I know. I also want a streamlined shopping experience. No big box stores with overwhelming selections of stuff. And I want this all in one location. No piecemeal for me. Boxed goods from one spot, CSA veggies from another? No thanks. And last but not least, in my car-less culture, the schlepp figures in. Big time.

But the man, he asks for very little, truth be told. And he was more adamant than I have seen him in.... well, ever. I suggested I do both of our work shifts. But the Little Man had had enough of that kind of silly talk. My one shift was already shoving it too far for him...

And E felt himself the dark knight, that he'd rescue us from our socialist workshifts and bring home the fakin' bacon all in one fell swoop. Alas, have I mentioned I'm a kitchen perfectionist (fill in "psycho" here, if you must)? The thought of someone as food/cooking-clueless as E picking out my produce made me pouty and dizzy for days. I cook, often, three times a day. P and I generally enjoy our time creating in the kitchen and really enjoy eating. (P has a list of recipes he's created himself that are delish! Surprisingly delish:) So, honestly.... Hi, my name is Mama, and I'm a kitchen snob. I'd rather have dry toast than a canned spaghetti sauce. Store bought bread crumbs don't cross our four flights of stairs... So, basically, my husband was paying the price for my produce pretensions (and reaping the yummy benefits - I'm not a total bitch!)

And what, I'm sure you're wondering, does this have to do with The Little Man??? I know, if I were actually interesting, I could get my own damn blaaahg and not hijack my child's. The point of this post, was P's reaction to our discussion. As E and I chatted through our preferences and listed our concerns, P was so squarely in my court it was hilarious. I know families that don't "discuss" anything in front of their kids. Admirable approach. But E and I rarely see one another when P isn't there (um, ever). And we'd like to try to mentor positive listening and cooperative living....

Nevertheless, as I'd mention my concern of, say, my inability to shop or feed my family (ha, this is so unfair to my fabulous husband it borders on hilarious! Ahhh, he could always go and get his own freakin' blog....) But as I'd mention my concern of irradiated vegetables or organic prices at other stores, P, ever listening, would occasionally march over to E and firmly hold his father's face. "Papa. Papa!!! You're not listening! We have to shop at the co-op! What if I want to get something during the week? What if I need some food? I can't wait for you to bring it home each night!" Heehee :)

There is peace, and if not perfect produce, at least food, in our house these days. But I really have to remember to watch myself around the Little Man. Last night, as P and I ate dinner, the cat climbed up a ladder, only to then puke and let the vomit drop all the way down to the floor with a serious splat. It was so disgusting it was hilarious. I laughed, wishing E was home to appreciate it with P and I, and thusly, P mini-chuckled. Then, as the cat moved on to make three more messes, leaving me with no appetite, I heaved a sigh of discontent. That was it, just a sigh. Hearing it, P stood on the bench and stomped his little leg. "Danda! You are making a mess! YOU, are a Nasty cat!" I nodded at him, trying not to chuckle at his indignation (oh the irony of the primary mess maker tsking the cat!) and then made sweet clucking noises to my de-hair-balled feline. As he heard this, he too clucked and petted sweetly..... Oh boy. I may have failed to influence my husband's eating intentions, but the kid is obviously way under my sway :)

Mama, what's magnet tape?

As P rifled through a bin while I started breakfast the other morning, he called out, "Mama, what's magnet tape?" He remembered what I had called the stuff, but not what it did. Then, of course, he wanted to use some. Ahh, breakfast could wait :) So we grabbed his craft wood and made a bunch of magnets.



Then he made a bunch of pictures on the fridge :) The pic above, in case you can't, ahem, tell, is a boy surfing the waves up onto shore while using a yo-yo. There's some sea life in the ocean below and some bubbles popping above the waves. The ocean eventually grew to include everything imaginable...



But what's a magnetic world without a BB? So the pink monster joined the show and received his own boat, candle powered, backed by a rudder and topped by a friend.... did I mention that the last time P bought a toy, he purchased a wooden birthday cake, for BB? Damn, that is one well loved monster :)

Tribute to Aunt Alicia

P loves his Aunt Alicia. Seriously. He mentions her (and her fab hubby) every day. She's a busy girl, but still finds time to pursue her passion. Have you checked out her fantastic blog lately? There's been a slew of sublime fuzzy photos. Well, when we were in Dumbo with her last month, I (accidentally, P was running at me and it was a little dark to shoot sans flash:)) got a blurred one of her shooting a shot. So here's our tribute to a fab Aunt! (Oh, and that's Seth and his dad (aka, Grandpapa) taking in the view behind her:)

Songs in the Key of New York

I am So Excited for P to wake up - and he just went to bed :) Today, the neighborhood parenting board mentioned a song set by a local artist all featuring New York City. I'm listening to it as I update our library books, do laundry and check my email... and had to leave it all behind to blog :) Go here and listen!!! If P sings his ABC's a little wonky(er:) next time you see him, you'll know its cuz he was listening to "Subways Always." I can hardly wait to share it with him in the morning - like most children, he loves hearing his world referred to in books and song. Check it out :)

An art filled day

The Little Man, waiting on line to see an installation.


Last weekend Dumbo had open art studios. P was game, so we went to see the world of my past life....

We chose the biggest warehouse and wandered through all of the studios. E grinned at me while I sniffed the paint, dust, clay, leather... The air itself made me smile :) The Little Man was smiling too, he had found something to collect. Most artists had a stack of postcard of their work, free for the taking. So P set to collecting his faves, truly gleeful. The kid cracks me up.

After doing three floors and countless studios, E and I were done, while the Little man was happy to keep going :) We headed to an installation piece E wanted to show me, a beauty so fine we had to wait on line! It was worth the chilly delay, but alas, could not be photographed, so you'll have to just imagine a room full of red tissue paper trees and caves, curling and rolling. P loved it, loudly declaring we should makes some at home :)

Heading home on the F:

Homeschooling: the "home" part

(P, experimenting with the anti-christ, I mean, glitter. After his bottle filling fun with Uncles Seth and Ian in the woods, there has been a frenzy of concoction fun here at home. His first, a "snowglobe" almost did me in. After it came a pom globe, featuring poms, more glitter, rhinestones, toothpicks....)



I've heard rumor that the masses imagine homeschooling as this: kids sit at the kitchen table with their workbooks while their caregiver plays teacher. Perhaps there is a blackboard, maybe not :)

I don't know anyone homeschooling like this (although they do exist:) and we certainly don't. But I typically post about our outings these days, assuming our parents are well experienced in what life at home with a kid looks like, (having done it almost a dozen times between them all) but novices on the NYC outings scene.

And then, last week, after a loooong day at home (P was down with a cold) I thought I might be mistaken :) My mother's house, heck, E's mother's house (and there were seven of them) never looked like this. I remember these things quite clearly :)

Despite the fact that I had tidied and cleaned during every spare moment of my day (you know, the times you aren't fixing food, helping someone eat said food, cleaning up from eating the food, playing on the floor, getting out the paints when the play moves from the floor, grabbing rags for the paint that has then moved back onto the floor... all of those times) the house looked like the remains of a Kansas tornado.

And I, the unshowered one, slightly resembled the male star of Twighlight, bed head hair and skin all a vampiric glow. Oh, wait, that's all of the freakin glitter, embedded into every nook and cranny of my existence.

No, my mother's house never looked like this. And there were four of us.

This is all before lunch. Waaaaay, before lunch. And yes, the space starts out tidy each and every morning...



Lest you think the mess is confined to the floor, it creeps its way onto every counter, every table in the house, every day... Here, the craft table, mid-concoction amid mounds of more mess:



So, in my sleep deprived state (having been on booger duty for a few nights in a row) I caved into my husband after the Little Man finally gave into sleep. How, how, I asked, can I suck so thoroughly? I know mothers who sit and drink a cup of joe in the morning! I know mothers with clean houses! I know mothers with multiple kids, who work!!!

He murmured all of the right words. Reminded me that we both had basements and bedrooms to which the clutter and curios of childhood were religiously relegated. That we're trusting this mentoring bullshit (oops - did I say that? hehe, back to my Mama mantra....) to establish natural cleaning help in the Little Man rather than daily chores. (And P really is starting to take responsibility, I see that, as he runs to the cabinet to grab a rag and dry a spill. He is, I, know.... He's just really not into toy cleaning, yet...) The back patting helped, a little, but I still felt a titch like a child messily playing house, compared to my own mother, and hoped P didn't notice :)

A day or two later, we were able to return to our afternoons out, limiting our mess making to a part-time job. Half day messes I could manage after bedtime books. This, along with a good night's sleep (and a god-given break on the glitter) helped immensely. Nevertheless, I'm forever amazed at how quickly P's play fills every foot of floorspace..... and forever in awe of both of our moms...

Pickin' Tomatoes and Beans

A lovely homeschooling Mama has set up a homeschooler's plot at the La Plaza Garden. Earlier this year, we hoed and then planted our plot. Last month, we reaped what we sowed,big time :)



The garden was blissfully green. P picked basil, a tomato, dried beans and a gourd. He collected dried flowers and leaves from the pathways for pressing, and pebbles and bark to boot. While he was pleased to see some of his buddies, he was in a BB mood and drove the wee monster about the rocky lanes with glee.



When we ate his tomato a few days later, he pronounced it the most delectable tomato, ever :)

The Brooklyn Bee

P, playing with his lips, watching the buzzing bee's atop the brownstone.


P loves honey. He finds bees and everything honey based endlessly fascinating. On his travel board (his wish list of places to visit), Ethiopia is featured prominently, as a small town there is rumored to have the best honey in the world:)

He's been asking for months to find a honey hive, and, apparently, so had some other kids. So a homeschool trip to a local honeymaker was arranged and a month ago we found ourselves setting in the living room of John, the local honey guy.

John, talking about the queen bee:



P and I had read bee books galore in preparation for the big day. The slideshow John presented was, therefore, less than captivating for P, but as soon as we walked to the bees, the boy was all business. The Brooklyn Bee had a display hive in his kitchen, a honey spinner the kids gave a whirl upstairs, and real hives above his house. The juxtaposition of sky scrapers and honey hives atop the brownstone was a hoot for this Kansan. P, ever the real local, took his roof hopping expedition in stride :)

Frisbee flinging, blanket hanging, sunny fun day...

(One of P's favorite activities Ever: spinning. When I went through my pics from this day, I noticed a group in the corner of one shot, hands to mouths, fingers pointing, appalled at the spinning child. Hehe.)


(Aren't they precious?)

Our advertising campaign (the one we're brainwashing Uncle Ian with) would not have been compete without a trip to Prospect Park, our backyard. So we frolicked for the afternoon in the meadow, doing park sorta stuff :)



P, always compelled to collect, found a plethora of beer bottle tops under a tree and set to work unearthing as many as possible. His sweet family helped him do the dirty work. I'm still not sure what I'm supposed to do with these, but they have been thrice washed (yah, they're still kinda gross) and taking up space in our small abode ever since....

Happiness Is...

Ganging up on Uncle Seth :) A family of six boys, you can imagine how much wrestling and rowdy rough-housing is status quo for these men. Get them in a group, and somebody is going to get jumped. And probably ganged up on. P thinks this heeelarious. And then, of course, the tides turn on the littlest :) Jungle rules. Fortunately, P holds his own pretty happily. That, and the boys all bow to the Little Man's Immense Strength ;)

Super-Grandpapa

P was nothing short of thrilled to have both Grandpapa and Uncle Ian visiting. His adoration for these two men is never-ending. (Understandably, as their patience and sweetness towards the Little Man is equally infinite.) Heading home, late, one night, P decided the best perch was atop his Grandfather. And there he happily bounced and sang the whole (15 blocks and an avenue) way home... did I mention patience and sweetness?

Central Park Wanderings

In an attempt to prove how lovely and green NYC can be to our dear Uncle Ian (move here, move here!!! Oh, and read this article , explaining how NYC is the greenest city!), we wandered through the northern edges of Central Park (weeks ago...:) It was so beautiful.



P was especially pleased with this pond. Tiny water plants dotted the surface, perfect for poking with a stick. He would have been content to spend the entire afternoon mucking about the water's edge, but we promised to return again and scooted onward.



He also adored this waterfall. He clambered out into the middle and perched on a rock beside a tiny rushing tunnel of water. Grabbing sticks and stems, he'd ask Imaginary BB if BB was on said stick. Then he'd cackle and toss the timber into the tunnel, yelling, "BB!! BB, are you rushing down the tunnel?!" (BB is scared of tunnels.) He could have contentedly played this game for the rest of the day too, but we wandered on and found...



Uncle Ian's water bottle. Or maybe it was Seth's. I was never quite sure. At any rate, P, Ian and Seth filled it with junk P found on the forest floor. P shook this, tried to trick other's into drinking it (and was aghast when he thought I'd really imbibed:) and emptied and refilled the bottle for the rest of our wanderings. I love that a water bottle and a bunch of dirt can be such a beautiful toy :) E, on the other hand, very much wanted to throw the mucky mess out before boarding our train. P, however, was very attached to his new project. We finagled a solution, and the bottle is still setting on our counter. It has become a larger science project, garnering observations on settling, floating, mixing and decay :)