A Walk in the Woods and a Poem

IMG_1211When I walk with my daughter Maya in the woods, I’m often torn between two competing impulses. The urge to discover together and to explain — to point out the wonders of a worm or seed or changing leaf — does battle with the need for silence, for soaking it all in.

Letting Maya lead the way is a solution of sorts — she darts about, looking and poking, asking questions or not. Unlike the Waldorf teacher I spoke with this week, I don’t think facts about nature are a burden to the mind, and try to answer her — or look up new information — as I can. She is a budding naturalist, at any rate, always wondering what different animals eat, where seeds live in the dirt, and which sprouts in the lawn are the onion grass she knows she can munch on.

Amidst the lessons, though, there is still the mysterious mystery, as she put it the other day. There is a quiet place where information is not the point. And ensuring that children get into the woods in an unmediated way — and have a direct confrontation with Life (and our relevance or irrelevance to its systems) — is essential.

Years back, I wrote a poetic response to Mary Oliver’s wonderful poem, Wild Geese, that hits upon these themes, and I thought of it again recently as the spring weather has brought us more time playing outdoors.

The argument from design

begins with meticulous veins in this mulberry leaf
and ends with God.  But I say it’s a long way from
lichen to leaf to omniscience, and in that journey one must account

for sea creatures that reproduce without sex, whatever sense that makes,
and for mass extinctions, the great blow-ups and die-offs,
and where does silliness come from in this telling?

It’s so serious to look at an oak and find the how
and why we’re here that I can’t bear to live in such a place,
under a heavy hand signing itself by virtue of its own complexity

mistaking a system which lives and dies with reasons
for living and dying — origins, organs knit together,
entangled like only tautologies are. Too easy lessons stolen

from the absent quiet of the woods, or unwitting peace
of geese and wind above a pond. I fail
to see how it explains the central flaw of us, our

pained self-consciousness.
A garden without us is no feat at all, yet there’s
no hint of plans for us inside

that vague, enormous mind. Instead, the delicate
web, reliant on knowing all reasons.
And why make something so delightful just to hand it,

thoughtlessly, to children,
with our violence, our near-total lack of knowing,
our terrible need to know.

You might also like:

5 Toddler Transition Tips That (Sometimes) Work for Me

IMG_5777Just this morning, we were rushing to get out the door, late and harried, and I was putting our bags in the car when I heard Maya start to loudly bawl behind me. She had wandered out and was standing on the sidewalk leading up to our house, in bare feet, and she evidently didn’t much care for the cold. I ran and scooped her up and into the car. Just another morning with tears, I thought, wiping her cheeks and kissing her while I buckled her in.

There are many mornings I would like to throw a tantrum of my own. After all, like Maya, I would prefer to hang out and play instead of throwing us all willy-nilly into a vehicle. One of the hardest things about modern mommyhood is, perhaps, the amount of schlepping we all do. School, playdates, classes, even a trip to the library can be the trigger for an episode of push-a-me-pull-you that wears both parent and child to the edge.

For this reason, among others, I’m a big proponent of a simpler schedule for kids, especially younger children. As adults, we forget how stimulating the world is, more or less all by itself, and the lessons that come from being able to interact with relatively simple materials. To find that reverie in a quiet moment of play, children need lots of space and time. Rushing from yoga class to music class to kiddie gym does not allow enough stillness for kids to catch up to themselves or to invent the games and fantasy play that they need to experiment with the world on their own terms.

Yet life is full of schedules even when it’s not. Dinnertime, bedtime, the need to leave to meet up with friends — all these things require a toddler or older child to come along for the next thing, to get on board and with the program.

Of course, the gold standard in this area is the three “Rs:” Rhythm, Ritual and Routine. When we are really doing well, we use the natural rhythms of the day, their repetition and predictability, and the nature of our routines to establish the order of things. Around bedtime is the easiest, given that the order is so easy to maintain. But even for dinner times, our very simple ritual of lighting a candle when we sit down to eat can bring Maya to the table and establish the right mood for a nicer meal together.

And then there are the other times, when chaos and change rear up and obliterate all our good intentions. Maya, like me, is a dawdler and a homebody, and she often needs that extra push to leave the house. So here are five tricks we use to move things along that work at least some of the time:

1) An advanced warning and joint review of “the plan:”  I try to tell her, when I remember to, what the plan is for the coming day, highlighting the things I think she might find fun. Then I provide a 3-minute or 2-minute warning for each new thing — “In two minutes, we are going to stop playing and get ready to leave for Grandma’s house” — and ask for her “ok.” This tends to work best when the plan is something she’s genuinely excited about, and not so well for more hum-drum affairs, but even when it’s not enough on its own, the clear communication can’t hurt.

2) The direct request with consequences: I will ask her to come along a few times, but no more than two. If she is unresponsive, I will say, “If you won’t come, I will have to pick you up.” If there is still no agreement between the parties, a last step is to say, “Ok, I have asked you to come by yourself and you are not listening to me. I will count to three and then pick you up if you are still not coming along.” Sometimes, she makes me count and then comes along; other times, she just stares defiantly and makes me pick her up. Either way, the impasse is resolved. (In general, providing some warning with a count-to-three before swooping in tends to be a good strategy for preventing some meltdowns, and works in many situations, including when an interaction with another child has gone south.)

3) Beginning the action by skipping a step: If I think she’s unlikely to come to eat breakfast without a fuss, for example, then rather than asking her to come over, I’ll invent a question that will bring her to the table, like, “Would you like molasses on your oatmeal? Yes? How much?” She always, predictably, wants “a lot” of molasses. More importantly, she wants to come monitor the amount I am pouring, taking her seat as she counts the drops. Mission accomplished.

Tony Soprano

Tony Soprano (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

4) Bribery: Since we’re all in on it, let’s be clear: parenting a toddler is an unexpected education in all available means of extortion, in ways that might shame Tony Soprano. Phrases like: “if you come to the table/eat one last bite/clean up that mess… then I will read you a story/wear that silly hat/give you a treat” slip without much hesitation from the lips, because blackmail is preferable to a physical wrestling match which you will inevitably eventually lose, with your dignity (or even your shirt!) in tatters. The real art is in picking an incentive, as we can call it among friends, that doesn’t unduly compromise your values. Enticements like attention and special time together can work just as well as sugar, I’ve found, though they can also add delay. (And sometimes a little “chocolate-ish” milk can go a long way towards domestic tranquility and achieving a decent bedtime.)

5) Setting an alarm: Maya’s insightful preschool teacher suggested this, and I have to say, it works like the charm it is. I will set the timer on the microwave (or my cellphone if we are out and about) for 30 seconds, and warn Maya that “when the beeper goes off, it’s time to stop playing and come to dinner.” If we’re at home, I usually step away from the timer to let her know: hey, it’s not me, it’s the microwave that’s running the show. I’m shocked by how well she listens to the microwave. And unsure, really, whether to be pleased or insulted…

In moments of timer-less desperation, I have even been known to beep myself like an insistent and inane machine, and, believe it or not, that works as well, although I do tend to get odd looks from other parents who have apparently not yet learned the persuasive power of imitating household appliances.

Mikrowelle, microwave

The new Parent in town  (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

###

What transition tricks do you use with your reluctant child? Do tell!

Happy New Year & Fun with Felt

Happy New Year

I’ve had a bad case of the Crafties this holiday. So I though I would subject you to one more post on a DIY gift that needs no special occasion: an easy way to make a felt play-station for a toddler or young child.

Felt boards are simple to create and can be used for hours of open-ended play. I gave two felt boards as gifts to my nieces, and made one set of felt cut-outs for Maya. For the board, I used a stretched canvas for the ones I made as gifts, and a large piece of felt cut and punched to fit on our easel over the whiteboard for Maya.

Whiteboard markers are dubious due to the xylene they contain, so that part of a child’s easel is better converted to something other use. (Magnet boards are also great and can be clipped on.) If you do use whiteboard markers, there’s a marker made without xylene by Auspen that allegedly works well.

Basic materials:

  • Felt in a wide range of colors (some is made of post-consumer recycled fabric, which is nice; you can also get fun felt with animal prints), and a larger piece in a neutral tone for the board backing
  • Sharp scissors (fabric scissors are best)
  • Stencil stickers for numbers and letters (like those used on posters)
  • Stretched art canvas for the board (I used these ones, which are a nice size, but the price fluctuates), a staple gun with staples, and velcro strips for hanging; or an easel or bulletin board
  • Optional: Fabric glue or thread and seed beads for making animals, trees, clouds, houses, etc.

For the shapes and letters:

For the letters and numbers, to keep things uniform, I used large-format sticky poster board stencil stickers from an office supply store. I further trimmed any useful shapes from inside the letters when I could to use in the sets.

H cutH pieceAfter some random trials, I found it simplest, particularly as I was making multiple sets of numbers and letters, to go through the alphabet in order, making sure to cut many copies of vowels and other letters often used in pairs (t’s, or p’s, for example).

In front of the TV, it was a pleasant diversion and allowed me to re-watch all of Downtown Abbey just in time for the start of Season Three (tonight)! I then divided them up into sets after laying all the pieces out on a board.

The sets for three familiesI also tried my hand at a few animals, using this allegedly non-toxic fabric and felt glue, with only modest success. When so inclined, Maya can easily pry the creations apart, showing the glue. So for the younger crowd, you may want either to keep it very simple with the shapes, or to invest the time in sewing the pieces together for durability. Still, for the few I’ve managed to keep intact, the pieces are cute.

Eden When pigs flyTo make the board:

If using an easel, just cut the felt to match the whiteboard or other support you are using, punch a hole with the scissors and slip onto the screws.

If you would prefer to make a separate felt board, it’s very simple to do so. Cut the felt in the size of your board, leaving three to four inches of fabric on all sides around the canvas.

IMG_5940Then fold and tuck the felt into the backside of the canvas on all sides, making “hospital corners” with the felt on each corner to keep it smooth on the front.

IMG_5947Using the staple gun, work your way around the back edges, paying special attention to keeping the corners flat. Hang with velcro or a nail as you prefer.

###

Maya has enjoyed playing with the shapes and trying to name the letters, which often occasions the alphabet song. I’m hoping her cousins are enjoying the sets as well! I’ll be adding more animals, and sewing some, as Downtown Abbey gets back underway…

Next week: A guest post on Type 2 diabetes from a blogger pal, and the full scoop on children’s “flame retardant” pajamas — so stay tuned!