It was a pretty successful Christmas. Of course, I managed to get my annual yuletide bug, and spent Christmas Eve Eve and Christmas Eve battling a wicked fever, popping ibuprofen and Tylenol as often as I could without inducing liver failure, but by Christmas morning, the worst of it had passed. Not without Christmas Eve drama though—from midnight to 2 AM, I was curled up under about 15 layers of clothing and blankets, shaking uncontrollably, desperate for the fever to break. And then my stomach finally said “enough is enough” and took over, emptying itself rather vehemently. Lo and behold, I was much better. Then Ava woke up with an ear infection. Ah. The holidays. But when morning arrived, I was ok, Ava was ok, and Carter was his usual self—happy. They both dug into their stockings, and then Ava set to work unwrapping everything, and Carter set to work running around. It took him a while to get into the swing of things, but he finally caught on to the idea that not only was this paper here for him to rip apart, it also had really neat things inside!

We had fun at Nana and Da’s, opening more presents—both kids were marvelous, given the chaos. They both did not really absorb everything that they received, but several things were immediate hits, most notably the 2 grocery carts Michaela and Carlos got them. THANK GOD Carlos volunteered to put them together, because Ava would not let anything else occur in the known universe until she could play with hers. And of course, as soon as Carter saw hers, he had to have it, so we got the other one put together, pronto. And then they spent HOURS going back and forth from one bedroom to the other (which flank the living room on opposite sides, so we watched the back and forth, like a cartoon), packing and unpacking their groceries.

Now that it has been several days, both kids have discovered most of the other things that they received, Carter especially. This has given me time to recover from Christmas, and I have completely managed to integrate the new stuff into our house. We still are brewing viruses, so it has been slow going, but I am going to just take it easy with Ava, and let her stay home an extra week, if she wants to. When they spend their days together, the kids actually play pretty well now, and are pretty creative in their activities—today they played ‘train’ by holding a piece of string between them and running around the house laughing and yelling, and this is great as far as I am concerned. It is good for Ava to go to school, sure, but if she is not feeling well, she sends the distinct message that she is feeling abandoned, and I would rather that she not feel that way. It is just the way she is.

It is finally snowing. Perhaps winter will stay.

Ava has another cold virus. This whole school thing is starting to be a little more trouble than its worth. I took her in today, because she woke up with a fever, and the doctor basically said that she had another cold, it was not pneumonia, and the fact that she was getting better between bouts of illness was good. It demonstrates her healthy immune system and he would be far more worried if she were chronically ill, never getting better. That would apparently illustrate a compromised immune system. All well and good, but it certainly did not make our present situation any easier. She did not shake the fever today—every time the Tylenol wore off, she went back up to 102+. This evening she really deteriorated—I told her to go lie down on the bed while I cleaned up Carter’s dinner mess, and when I came in to check on her she looked practically catatonic. Her eyes were ringed with red circles and when I checked her temp it was 103.4. I gave her Tylenol, tucked her in and she immediately fell asleep. Hopefully it will break tonight.

However, when her fever was held in check by the Tylenol, we managed to have a pretty decent day. I learned a lesson last week that rolling and cutting out Christmas cookies with a 1 and ½ year-old boy on the loose is really not a good idea—the flour was distributed from one end of the house to another, and it took me hours to clean up, primarily because just as I would get one part vacuumed, Carter would come tearing through, dragging flour from another part of the house through my nice clean part. Moreover, if anyone so much as sneezed, flour would sift out of every garment. It was a nightmare. White footprints and handprints on the hunter green living room chairs nearly sent me to the local asylum. Not only that, but after we had cut them out, I tried to decorate them with icing in a squeeze tube. The icing was impossible to squeeze, and would not come out. Ava’s solution was to suck on the tube. It came out that way, for sure, but obviously never made it to the cookie. After she managed to consume about 8 fluid ounces of icing despite my repeated admonishments not to (yeah, sure mom), I called it a day and put everything away. I was tired of saying “stop! Just stop! Stop absolutely everything that you are doing! Freeze!” Such a declaration is futile. Stop just means go faster to see what Mom will do. So I finished the icing later. However, we still had a batch of sugar cookies to bake as of this afternoon. Fearing a reprise, I decided to give them blobs of dough already on the cookie sheet, and handed them sprinkles to shake on the cookies. Round sugar cookies taste the same as cookies in the shape of stars and Christmas trees. Toddlers and preschoolers don’t care what shape they are. My main issue this time was with those stupid teeny tiny non-pareils. Not only do they roll to every corner of the room, but when you try to vacuum them they skitter wildly, as if they are alive, not following any laws of physics, so you have to pretty much vacuum on your hands and knees, chasing the little stinkers around. I desperately wanted to get them cleaned up though, because I had no intention of getting them in the new keyboard, our fantastic gift from Grandma.

There are lots of lessons to be learned as one plows through parenting (like the above: don’t bother with getting your Christmas cookies just so). The problem is, the practical solution often only manifests itself after you have thoroughly messed up, and more often than not, the opportunity to apply the lesson will not appear again. For example, next year, the kids will be older, and presumably Carter will not wildly fling flour all over the house, rejoicing over the sensory thrill. So, perhaps I can roll and cut out Christmas cookies. The challenge is in taking note of the lesson and applying it to the larger picture. This lesson is easy: perfection is unnecessary for happiness. I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

Ava had her first riding lesson today! It was great—she was so excited. SO excited. We got there, and the instructor (who looks just like Dennis Farina – the cop on Law and Order plus other things) was superb. He was very kid friendly and very patient. And it was a real lesson. No pony rides here! After he led her around, he stood in the middle and around she went. She learned “whoa,” turning (sort of), and how to move forward. She had her game face on, but beneath it you could see an irrepressible smile peeking out– she was clearly so proud of the fact that she was really riding. The funniest part was when the instructor asked her what sort of horses she liked. He clearly expected “brown” or “white” – and she replied: “um, I like draft horses, actually.” He nearly died laughing, and she got his instant approval. Carter got to ride for one turn around the ring, sitting in front of her, which had him utterly thrilled. AND he taught Ava the rudimentary parts to falling off—he had her stand up in the saddle and fall into his arms. This is a great thing—allows people to ride without fear. And she rode around with her arms out to her side—another great learning device. I was very happy with it.

Then after such a great day, Ava somehow tripped while crawling around on her hands and knees (I think she was pretending to be a dolphin), and she very nearly sent her tooth through her lip entirely. Fortunately it was all confined to the inside of her mouth, thus no stitches, but it was very deep and very traumatic for everyone. And her lip went ballistic, swelling up hugely, despite ice. It hurt her a lot. When she initially did it, the noises she made were gut-wrenching. She could barely make noise, and the ones that did manage to come out were somehow a mixture of screams, groans and gurgles all into hands held firmly against her face. I had to pry her away from me and her hands away from her in order to see what in the world had happened, and was expecting to be horrified. She calmed down a bit, but basically did not stop crying until she fell asleep an hour later.

Meanwhile Carter is thoroughly sold on strawberry ice cream, and if I so much as walk within a 4 foot radius of the freezer, he gestures wildly at it. God help me if I open it, as he will remove the entire half-gallon from the door.

And he sits on my lap for books! He has been addicted to books forever, but never would sit still to actually look through the whole thing. Now he insists on sitting on my lap (so cute) and wants to carefully go through the text, and have everything named. He points to something and says “eh” and I have to name it. Most interestingly, he will make me go back and forth, underscoring the word for him. He will point at a fish and then a truck and then the fish and then the truck and then the fish and then the truck and then the fish and then the truck, and on and on, and I say “fish.” “truck.” “fish.” “truck.” “fish.” “truck.” “fish.” “truck.” “fish.” “truck.” “fish.” “truck.” “fish.” “truck.” “fish.” “truck.” “fish.” “truck.” “fish.” “truck.” “fish.” “truck.” “fish.” “truck.” He does this without books too—especially when he is relaxing on the potty. He points to the sink, the door, and the wall, and makes me say them in order over and over and over. Sometimes he mixes it up—sink, wall, door, sink, wall, door, sink, wa-SINK! And he gets hysterical, so thrilled that he tricked me.

Speaking of the potty—it is great that he is using it and all, but he insists on using it to pass gas too—so we go through the whole rigamorole of pants off, diaper off, socks off, sit down, TOOT!, laugh uproariously, get up, pick up the empty potty cup, bring it to the big potty, dump the invisible fart into the big potty, put the potty cup back, toddle around to the flusher, flush, wave bye bye, and run joyfully bare bottomed out the door. It is cute, but a lot of effort. I know that he might not know the difference between tooting and pooping, (in this, he is not alone in the world), and just recognizing the urge is great, but I have to say that there is a down side to the early potty training. He is too little to do it himself, even to pull down a pair of underwear, so it is a labor intensive event. And he really hates the diapering that is inevitable when we go out. Oh well. This too shall pass.

Ski season began for Ava today! She and Peter hit the slopes, while Carter and I stayed home—a welcome change from last year when I had to attend with an infant Carter because Ava was not that comfy being away from me for hours and hours. It is just no fun to drive 45 minutes to a ski lodge only to stay inside and entertain a small child who cannot be put down on a muddy floor. We had a fun time by ourselves, and I think Carter relishes this time.

I recently began a few sewing projects for Ava’s doll. I cannot overstate how remarkable this is for me. As I have mentioned, I am not crafty. When the Little Dippers teacher used to bring out the craft basket full of felt, wool, embroidery thread, needles and other implements I would experience visceral panic and would do whatever I could to avoid a display of my incapacity to stitch. However, doll clothes are expensive. And it finally dawned on me that I could probably figure out how to piece together a coat and hat (it is winter after all, and it seems silly for Helena-the doll-not to have a warm outfit). And, I did it! Sleeves and all. It took forever, but it is cute and it fits. Anyway, my point is not to be self-congratulatory, but rather to make note of the impact this had on Ava. If there is anything that will keep me reaching for the sewing basket, it is how fascinated she is by the production. She constantly asks to have a ‘sewing project,’ and so I give her a piece of fabric, some thread, some scissors and a pin and she will sit there for an hour, ‘constructing’ various things. Yesterday, she made a book for her doll—she took a piece of felt and put pieces of thread on it in various shapes and then folded it over and poked at it with the pin—voila! a book!

The other thing that I found interesting but will probably be profoundly dull reading for everyone else was the way she ordered a set of 10 boxes of descending size. They are nesting boxes, and thus each one is slightly smaller than the previous one. I asked her to lay them side by side from biggest to smallest the other day, and she immediately did it—no need to review big bigger and biggest! Tonight she asked if she could do it again, and since there was not enough room to lay them all in a line along the wall, she put them out in a very specific and interesting order where the 1st 2 went side by side, then the 3rd one was placed under the 2nd one, the 4th one next to the 3rd, the 5th one under the 4th, the 6th next to the 5th, and so on, maintaining the same pattern all the way to the end. And it looked like she did it without planning it—it was just a pattern that she devised and adhered to almost unconsciously. Basically it was a diagonal progression of pairs, if that makes any sense. Anyway, I thought it was intriguing.

In light of the above, it will be of no surprise that I am reading some Montessori books, where this sort of exercise is discussed extensively. It is very interesting reading, and especially in comparison to the Rudolf Steiner books. He is the founder of the Waldorf theory of education, and often these two theories are considered to be in opposition to each other. I can see why this is thought to be the case, and certainly the two authors are very different people, but honestly, I see more similarities than differences. Primarily, both are concerned with not pushing the child, not “teaching,” but rather allowing the child to learn through his or her senses/body. The difference appears to be in the conception of what is occurring in the child’s mind as he or she grows and learns. And a lot of this has a tremendous amount to do with the personal aesthetics and opinions of the two authors. A lot has been said about Maria Montessori’s negative opinion of fantasy life and fantasy play vs. Steiner’s heavy emphasis on it. But MM was a physician, a scientist and Italian, thus presumably Roman Catholic, all of which would lead one to be less than supportive of a mythical world of ‘false gods!’ RS was a philosopher and deeply influenced by his own spiritual experiences growing up and was convinced both of their veracity and their importance, and so he fashioned his educational theory around them. However, these two people, coming from absolutely opposite sides of the spectrum, ended up making some of the same observations about how children learn. They came to different conclusions as to what sort of materials are necessary, and what types of learning should take place, but they both seem to be in agreement that kids learn not through overt teaching but rather through their bodies and their experiences. MM puts a lot of emphasis on the senses and RS on imitation, but both talk of exposing the child to practical life—allowing them to become familiar and proficient at the day to day tasks that the adults surrounding them are doing. It seems to me that with careful reading the 2 theories could be compared and a powerful educative theory distilled from them that focuses on the actual methods and eliminates what might simply be personal bias resulting from cultural and personality differences.

This might already exist, and if it does, hooray, but right now that task is a tad beyond my scope.

Ava and Carter are sick again. This time Carter is really the one suffering—he has unbelievable mucous coming out of his nose. It just pours out. That plus the drooling from his teeth makes him a gooey mess all day. He is generally pretty happy though, so at least he is a pleasant gob of sticky fluids.

He is determined to talk, but only says the first sound of most words, so it is easy to dismiss him as babbling. But if you pay attention, he is trying to tell you what he wants or what he sees. However, he has definitely got the power of “MA! MAMA! MAMAMAMAMAMAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” figured out.

Our mealtimes have evolved to something approaching pleasant repasts. We continue to make an effort to light a candle and sing the blessing, and the three of us usually manage to remain seated until most of the food is consumed. I have found that if I serve dinner between 4 and 4:30 all goes well. Any later and there is usually some sort of mutiny. What I find astonishing is that: 1. I have the time to actually cook a real meal and 2. I do this 3 times a day. Clearly it is in their best interests to have the regularity and ritual of breakfast, lunch and dinner, but this is SO NOT ME. I never eat lunch if left to my own devices—my natural schedule is brunch and dinner. I tend to stop and reflect as I am cooking a mid-day meal (roughly 1 hour after finally completing the clean-up from breakfast) and start to hear the Talking Heads in my mind: “This is not my beautiful life. This is not my beautiful house…Many days go by….bah de bah de bah de dah…”(I am fairly certain that the song was not written with me in mind, but some postmodern literary analysis can remedy that.)

Anyway, I am thoroughly domesticated and I think I am doing a pretty good job of it on average—today they all had French toast for breakfast. This is so exciting for me, because it means that Ava actually likes a breakfast food other than bacon and eggs. Until now, she had eschewed anything that required syrup. That eliminates a huge amount of really fun breakfast things. She still does not really like cereal. So weird.

On Saturday we went to the “Merry Elves Gift Faire” at the Northern Lights School, and both kids had a blast. The snow queen was there, ensconced in her snow cave (sheets and twinkle-y lights) and after Ava overcame her initial fear of going in, she visited her about 5 times. We made ornaments, bought some gifts, had some food, and played. I had a parental duty to contribute in some way, so I offered to clean-up. Towards the end, Ava was getting tired, and she asked when we were going home. I told her that I had to help by cleaning up first. She leapt up and said “what can I clean up?” I told her that I did not know, perhaps she could ask Miss Kim. Miss Kim told her to ask Miss Peggy. Miss Peggy was in the other room, so off Ava went. When I finished nursing Carter I went in to find her and Miss Peggy said “Look at your daughter!” and there she was, cleaning tables with a cloth. Very happy, very occupied and very proud of herself. She then launched herself into a series of other projects, including folding the sheets of the snow queen’s cave (with another mother entirely), picking up, moving little chairs back to their proper place, and so on. I cannot emphasize how proud I was of her. All of the other kids were playing like crazy, and had she joined in I would have been thrilled with that, but it was so CUTE to watch her set to work with absolute seriousness. Says a bit about her future personality, I think. It certainly got the attention of the other adults.

Finally, I recently finished “White Teeth” by Zadie Smith. Unbelievable novel. When I started it, I almost returned it to the bookstore, because the characters in it were so miserable, so NOT what I wanted to read about, but I stuck it out and it turned out to be one of the best novels that I have ever read. She got a lot of press for this novel (as well as a teaching position at the University of Chicago, I think—it might have been Columbia), and it is well deserved. There is no way to summarize this book. London, 20th century, immigrants, working class, issues of identity, history, faith, and legacy all wrapped up in one rambling but ultimately tight little package. And funny too. Really funny. The British have such a way with words that we consider inappropriate for polite company. Somehow they can use the F-word and sound so civilized. Her ability to observe people and their emotional baggage is astounding. Highly recommended.

Now on to her next book…um, I mean, now on to statistics…