Category: BC (beloved child the elder)

wile e. coyote. supergenius.

wile e. coyote. supergenius.

i suspect i am not the only person out there who wonders whether my brain is completely full of information and incapable of admitting more without letting some of the matter, important or unimportant, go.

i wonder about these things, especially at this time of year, because i simply cannot figure out where things have gone. it is holiday time, and i have officially faked myself out. two of BS’s presents, bought a little while ago, were put away in my usual BS Present Hiding Spot ™. Only, too bad for me, as junie b would say, cos they are now officially M.I.A. the kids often play around my official hiding spot, but BC, who would be on the ball for these sorts of things, has no recollection of seeing said items. and i know i saw them last week when i first wrapped a chanukah present for BS. so i probably put them somewhere else so that they’d be supertopsecretsafe.

boy. i’m so smart. so incredibly, freakishly smart. (grrrr.)

i also noticed that a pair of jeans i bought online are missing. they’ve been languishing in a box in the closet, waiting for me to put them on when i finally admitted that i would be comfy in that size and would be ready to venture forth and get them shortened. they’re missing now, too.

i suspect that jimmy hoffa is out there somewhere, using BS’s presents and wearing my g-ddamned jeans.

my big, fat walt disney world vacation. part 4.

my big, fat walt disney world vacation. part 4.

ah, the happiest place on earth.

first, a round-up of some of the happy moments, for those of you who think i hate everything. (and, for the record, i don’t.)

1) BC, age 9, discovering her “favorite” rides at disney: rockin’ rollercoaster, space mountain, and expedition everest. i have to say that the imagineers (another great job title, methinks) have an incredible way of making your wait (and yes, friends, sans a fastpass, you will wait. and sometimes with a fastpass, you will wait.) somewhat entertaining. i especially enjoyed expedition everest’s realistic paraphenalia; it made me actually even more interested in the area and the people of the region. and going on said rides with my kid? priceless πŸ™‚

2) jools, age 4.5, discovering his favorite rides: buzz lightyear, star tours (and yes, i went on this 6 times thanks to little man and memorized the corny jokes of the person who got us situated), the haunted mansion (which broke down while he and i were riding it one NIGHT, right in front of some graves — and he wasn’t scared (though i was a little creeped out) and watching the how-to show on becoming a jedi. (be prepared for the crowd to get crazy when the man running the show highlights his first young female jedi-in-training.) i’ll admit: i love going on buzz lightyear a lot, too. i also think everyone in the family loved mickey’s philharmagic. i think it’s the best of disney’s 3-d shows, even better than the old muppets chestnut. also, test track (note that jools is not afraid of roller coasters, so if your child is, he might not enjoy it as much)

3) we had lovely meals at boma and jiko. the kids were a little perplexed by the food choices in the norwegian restaurant akershus (we’re not from the big scandinavian food choosers), but as that was where the princess lunch was, that’s what we ate. i would recommend people stick to the breakfast if possible, though lunch is ok (just not what i would normally pay that kind of money for πŸ˜‰

4) as people staying at WDW, we were allowed to send our kids to a childcare center (for extra $ of course). we chose simba’s cub club in the animal kingdom (so that we could have one grownup dinner date.) not a terribly high-tech place, but when we returned to pick the kids up (at 9:30; we’re so lame at staying out late), the kids begged us to let them stay. of course, they were fed a meal they loved of mac and cheese and chicken nuggets, with all the cookies they could stuff; what’s not to like? kids age 4-12 can enjoy this, though they must be potty-trained to do so (we actually saw a couple getting busted — their daughter was in pull-ups. you know it’s not a good sign when you walk into the club and the cast member takes you aside and says: “there’s something we need to talk about.”) $10 an hour per kid. actually comparable to what we pay around here, almost, when you throw in the pizza we always order for the kids and the sitter πŸ˜‰

5) the parks, especially the magic kingdom, are WILDLY crowded on night when they stay open late. the exception to this for us was when we paid extra for mickey’s christmas party. it was a snap to get on rides that night. little parties and dancing aboundeth that night — my kids danced with goofy, and yes, dear reader, even jaded little me enjoyed that moment. that’s the night when they have the much vaunted holiday parade.

RANT ALERT! (you knew i couldn’t go all the way through in a happy way, didn’t you?)

we used to visit disney when i was little. i’ve sat through a gazillion parades. and even though they’ve always piped in music, the people in the parade used to sing. i’m pretty darn sure of that. so i am wondering why we all sit for hours to watch people lip-synch? i have zero interest in watching people lip-synch. i want actual singing, people. if i want lip-synching, i’ll go watch some MTV awards show.

jools slept through the christmas parade. BC loved it. so i’m just a picky-picky crank.

but you knew that already.

reindeer romp

reindeer romp

this morning, in the rainy, icy, snowy early hours of the day, BC ran her first 5k as part of her girls on the run program. girlfriend was a bit frightened before the fact; 1) she invited her school principal to be her buddy since BS and i can’t run with her (yet) — and the dear man accepted; 2) there was a little added pressure because girlfriend ended up as a sort-of poster child for the event, courtesy of the Washington Post; and 3) she actually can’t run all the way through (yet).

BS — who is actually fighting some throaty-coughing thing — took her to the run, as he didn’t want me to risk getting sick out there. and he reported that BC’s principal was as good as his word — she ran, he ran. she walked, he walked. and even though the man is actually a serious runner, he stayed with her through to the finish line. (you bet your butt that man is getting a thank you note and some homemade cookies next week.)

i’m so proud of girlfriend. she finished what she started. (i’ve never started, much less finished, a 5k.) and she wants to keep going in the spring.

you go, girl.

my big, fat walt disney world vacation. part 3.

my big, fat walt disney world vacation. part 3.

through trial and error, we’ve learned that it’s sometimes better to permit our kids to revel in certain media experiences rather than prohibit them and create a forbidden fruit phenomenon. we limit, but don’t prohibit, television in our house, for example. and BC, as i’ve mentioned before, is a HUGE high school musical fan. while it’s not music to my ears, i have no problem allowing BC to enjoy this pretty innocuous, fluffy show in all of it’s glory.

so when we learned that there’s a big HSM pep rally at walt disney world, we knew that BC would be dying to see it. and, as luck would have it, i drew the short cursed lucky straw that entitled me to be the parent who would enjoy the show with her. as happens with every show at WDW, if you’re not there early, you won’t get to participate in — or sometimes just to see — the show. (read: you need to in the front row, if not close to it.) so we arrived, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, at 9:00am for the 9:35 show. a cast member (i just love that euphemism, don’t you?) told us to stand behind a line and we’d have a great seat for the show. we were thrilled. well. one of us was; i’ll leave that puzzle to your imagination.

so BC and i stood for 35 minutes in what was bright, 70+ degree sunlight, and chattered. around us, there were kids as young as 3 who were waiting for the show. (one little boy, who was actually 3, was there, complete with his HSM glitter shirt on. his mother told us that this would be his 4th time at the show. the first three times happened the day before.) in fact, seeing boys dressed in HSM shirts was a sort of new phemonenon for me. (most boys around here would rather be impaled than be seen in such garb. not that there’s anything wrong with it, of course.) there was a little girl from new yawk whose parents had apparently bought out the HSM franchise for her listening, viewing, and wearing pleasure. it was a wee bit frightening. (BC loves it, but beyond a CD, she doesn’t really have a lot of HSM paraphenalia.)

we stood. and we stood. and we watched people sit down on the astroturf they’d laid down on the ground for people to sit upon once the HSM float (which serves as the show’s backdrop) comes through. and we watched cast members move them along. meanwhile, parents around me seethed like stage mothers behind a rope. why do those people continue to sit on the astroturf? why don’t the workers MOVE them? apparently, there was much gnashing of teeth. i was a little frightened we were going to have a reenactment of the 1979 Who show, and i was not about to have my kid underfoot for some gabriella wannabe. i was getting kind of nervous. BC, i said, if people get crazy when they drop the rope, just run and sit down on the turf. i will find you, but just be careful.

when the cast members started to move the rope, they pulled it across, as if to lead us to our appointed spots. but people started to push, and i was afraid that BC would be in harm’s way. sensing this, BC slipped under the rope and plopped down on the astroturf. i walked over to her and slid my legs around her so that she was essentially in my lap. she was able to actually get up and dance with the HSM people at a few points, and i was calm enough to nearly enjoy the show be happy that my daughter was beaming contendedly and had not become a permanent part of the pavement.

a lot of the shows at disney essentially reward pushy parents. knowing that, we waited so that we could get decent seats. but because of that, jools didn’t get selected to be a jedi knight (must be in the front row). my sister in law and my brother in law (mercifully) scouted out a curbside spot so that we all could watch the christmas parade; i think they must have stayed there for at least an hour. you waste so much time saving spots and waiting at disney. it must be part of their economic formula, but it brings out the crazies in everyone.

including me.

my big, fat walt disney world vacation. part 1.

my big, fat walt disney world vacation. part 1.

and you may ask yourself, why the hell isn’t that boring chick writing much? she usually spews about anything. we’ve had radio silence for days, and that’s simply just not like her to be that considerate by shutting her trap.

well, fear not. i’m not being considerate. my blathering self is back. we just spent a few days in the barmy balmy place known as westworld walt disney world. you know, the happiest place in the world? (dammit, at the rates i paid, you will be happy, and nothing will go wrong, or else!) sorry i didn’t let you know in advance, but i didn’t feel like announcing to potential doers-of-evil that i was vacating my premises for a bit. but we’re back. i suspect that there are several points to rant over, so this may take a few days to get out of my system.

(don’t say you weren’t warned.)

for a stunning twist, we decided to take the autotrain this year. you load your car onto the train, then you sleep through the carolinas and all of their kitschy roadside south of the border signage until VOILA! you’re in scenic sanford. (and when i say scenic, i mean scenic like being on the wrong side of scrub pines and railroad tracks.) this time of year, the autotrain is packed, and i mean packed, TO THE GILLS, with senior citizens on their way to flaaa-rida. dahling. i would say that this trip predominantly included most of the citizenry from the greater new york metropolitan area. our family probably lowered the median age a bit.

you know it’s going to be a fabulous ride when the dining attendants hide the hot cocoa packets because the seniors rip them off. (my kids, in a moment of sweetness i wish i had captured on film, smiled so nicely at the attendant that she gave them two additional packets for later. i guess she figured we weren’t a threat to the stash.) but we were off, and everyone was nice to us once we got past the whole boarding thing. (there were a few alta cockers who i feared might run over us with luggage carts should we have the temerity to attempt to walk before them.) but the older folks who were in our little slice of AMTRAK heaven were mostly nice and didn’t monopolize the bathrooms. one even gave BC a dollar in honor of her birthday, which was sweet (even after BC said no thank you and the lady insisted.) now i just have to train these people to not speak REALLY INCREDIBLY LOUDLY WHEN IT’S 10:00 AT NIGHT AND THEY ARE RIGHT OUTSIDE MY DOOR. myrtle, your hearing aid may blow up if you keep that shit up.

where am i going with this? to disney world, of course, silly.

anyway, once we arrived in sanford, the old folks rallied to the very front of the station, as if their personal sheer will would make their car come out before everyone else’s. all, apparently, except for one family, whose car actually came out first. 45 minutes later, the announcer on the PA was getting really snippy: Eber Family, Car # 405, EBER Family, You really need to get your big asses over here right now and take your car away before we sell it on Ebay for $1! okay, so that’s more what was going on in my little bear brain, but the PA Announcer was not far from me on that, you know.

BC asked an interesting question: mama, why do all of these grandparents drive big SUVs? i couldn’t imagine any of them stepping up so high without requiring surgical intervention, but apparently, they can and they do. i scratched my head. i really don’t know, sweetheart was all i could muster. BC decided that maybe they all have to drive their grandchildren around in carpools. yeah right, darling. in their dreams they are all driving that carpool. then, after two days of kids screaming and dropping cheerios in their formerly-clean interiors, they are begging for mercy.

we went on our honeymoon to disney nearly 18 years ago. we did not decide to have children until 8 years after that, probably because a trip to disney is the finest form of birth control around. that being said, i was now wondering whether i would find seniors scarier than children.

madame turns 9

madame turns 9

it’s hard for me to believe, but 9 years ago today, i was waddling into a hospital and giving birth to two whole new lives: that of my darling bunnygirl and a novel existence for me as a mom.

BC, today you’re 9, and i relish seeing the person you’re turning into.

dear one, you believe in fairness to the enth degree. especially when it concerns yourself and jools, and particularly especially when you feel you’re getting the wrong end of the stick.Β  but you can, and do, rise to the occasion, especially when it’s the role of big sister. like a few weeks ago, when some older boys were making fun of jools at a party. he was playing with your friend’s polly pockets, and the boys were calling him stupid and dumb. it stings me that i wasn’t in the room when this happened; i had stepped out only for a minute. but you, dear girl. you stepped in and announced that he wasn’t stupid (after jools himself announced that and kept on playing, ignoring the sexist boys.) you told me that then, you had the unfortunate coincidence of swinging your leg around and hitting the particularly offensive boy “in the nut.” it was an accident, you claim.

girlfriend, you cannot kick boys “in the nut,” and i’m not encouraging you to do so in the future. as a mom, i’m supposed to teach you to abhor violence and to come and find a grownup when you cannot handle the situation. but know that deep inside me, i am cheering ecstatically for my girl, who is learning to defend all that she holds dear.

you are empathetic, and you are especially beloved by little babies and toddlers. we still call you the baby whisperer because babies and toddlers seem to seek you out.Β  they instinctively know you are a good person to know, and you are. you treat little ones gently and lovingly, each and every one (except for jools, who doesn’t necessarily fall under the little ones category anymore, i suppose.) the only other person i know who has that same ability is my BTD . little kids literally swarmed him when he was a camp counselor, and you guys do the same to him now. so perhaps it’s genetic.

you’ve been dropped into a new school knowing absolutely no one; and you’ve made friends, and you’re enjoying school, running, and generally having playdates, something you seldom had in your old school. there is something to be said about sending your kid to a neighborhood school over busing her to a school across town. so much for my parental hopes to give you something even better than what i had.

you’ve also said how glad you are to learn math and science in english now. i guess that helps a bit. also, having a teacher who genuinely loves teaching and children has helped you immensely. (you had one of those last year — your english teacher — but you had another, your spanish/math/science teacher, who i suspect may not.) i’m so grateful that you’ve landed in a school where the teachers behave like teachers and not crazed disciplinarians, and where religion has no place in your classroom. (i am still incredulous that your spanish teacher placed a picture of the creche scene beneath the american flag last year.) at your new school, they celebrate winter — the SEASON — and not christmas. they don’t decide to throw jews a bone and include chanukah, either.Β  and i am sooooo glad for it. i get so bent when people think that if they include a jewish song or a jewish story into the curriculum, then all’s well and balanced.Β  no, no, NO. religious holidays have no place in public school. my religion or anyone else’s. period.

but enough about me.Β  this should be about you.

and you are fantastic, with one leg still in young childhood and one leg firmly in the world of tweens. you still love playing with dolls, but you also love your mp3 player, Hanna Montana, and chasing boys. yep, i’m living in fear over the latter (as are the boys of the world.) but i’ll cross that bridge another day.

know that i love you. you often think i love your brother more, but i have a heart that has learned to expand to accommodate new people ever since that fateful day in 1998 when i wound up with a beautiful little girl. you taught me that, and for that, i’ll always be grateful.

happy birthday πŸ™‚

the minerva louise series by Janet Morgan Stoeke

the minerva louise series by Janet Morgan Stoeke

we finish up books-a-go-go with a local author (well, to me, anyway), janet morgan stoeke.

do you have a four-year-old hanging around the house? then run, don’t walk, to your local library and pick up some books from the minerva louise series by Janet Morgan Stoeke, an author who actually lives in the next town over. i would lovelovelove to run into her in the supermarket and ask her how she gets into the brain of preschoolers!

the thing i loathe about books for preschoolers is that there seems to be so many that veer off into the direction of either books for boys or books for girls. you know — you end up reading about trucks or cars or dinosaurs when you’ve a guy, or princesses or fairies for girls. not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course, but it gets a bit wearing. i mean, after learning about 50,000 ways to talk about a fire truck, a parent can wish that they’d spontaneously combust.

but the minerva louise books — BC loved them when she was 4, and now, jools adores them! (in retrospect, it’s probably a sign of the apocalypse when they both agree on anything.)

minerva louise is a very silly, and possibly nearsighted, hen. she ends up mistaking a baby for a bunny; a school for a farm; and mittens for a hat. the illustrations make it quite clear to anyone why she would make her errors, and yet the fact that she makes these errors make little kids giggle and giggle. i love to read stoeke’s minerva books with my kids, if only because i love to hear my kids laugh πŸ™‚

a new one just came out about christmastime; i’m jewish, but you can bet i’ll be out there looking for it.

Minerva Louise and the Colorful Eggs

Minerva Louise

A Hat for Minerva Louise

Minerva Louise at School

Minerva Louise at the Fair

Minerva Louise and the Red Truck

Minerva Louise and Her Farmyard Friends

ian falconer's Olivia

ian falconer's Olivia

may i first say how much BC adored olivia when she was a preschooler? i mean LOVED! olivia is a cheeky little pig who isn’t quite perfection – she’s a little bossy and tough. and in the end, her mom notes that olivia wears her out — but that she still loves her. a message any parent could appreciate.

i also loved the fact that there were all sorts of artistic and cultural icons sprinkled throughout the work. olivia imitating jackson pollack is a moment i treasure — after reading this book, we went to the national gallery, where, thanks to this book, BC was able to spot jackson pollack easily on the wall (and i was nearly able to corrupt several young minds talking about painting while drunk. not me painting, silly. pollack.) falconer’s illustrations are among the best i’ve ever found in children’s literature. i love them that much.

that being said, olivia seems to be turning into a cottage industry. olivia counts, olivia reads, why, i’m waiting for olivia potty trains her younger brother. i don’t bother with those.

but i definitely bother with olivia. move over, wilbur, or olivia might kick your porky behind.

Olivia

Olivia Saves the Circus

Olivia … and the Missing Toy

Olivia Forms a Band

Olivia Helps with Christmas (Olivia Series)

cars and trucks and things that go

cars and trucks and things that go

richard scarry has been around since i was a wee tike. i remember that along with Highlights Magazine, his books were a fixture of dentists’ and pediatricians’ offices. i found them incredibly boring (just like Highlights — did anyone ever actually read them??) and wondered whether any child in his or her right mind would read them. i mean, who the hell wanted a book that lacked a storyline? it was never my schtick, and BC didn’t care at all about them, either.

so it came as a major revelation when jools started to enjoy richard scarry. it was a loathsome chore, to be sure, to have to read through the books, chockablock filled with pictures and words. clearly scarry had gone to a ton of trouble drawing and thinking. but it all left me cold.

that is, until cars and trucks and things that go. see, the pig family is going on a picnic. and along the way, there are a zillion types of cars, some of which are, well, extraordinarily silly (a carrot car?? a pencil car??)), much to the delight of a preschooler. then, there’s poor old officer flossie, trying to catch up with naughty dingo, who not only speeds but mauls the poor parking meters. go, officer flossie, go! and then, there’s the added delight of searching for goldbug on every page, out waldo-ing where’s waldo by about 10 years.

[feminist girl here likes the fact that the prime fixer of cars happens to be mistress mouse. she can fix anything. would that i could.]

anyway, while not my favorite book, i actually enjoy reading it in bits and pieces, if only to see how my son giggles every time he sees yet another silly car.

cars and trucks and things that go

mr. lunch borrows a canoe

mr. lunch borrows a canoe

i heart mr. lunch.

the team of J. Otto Seibold and Vivian Walsh have created a book where the storyline really tests you, the grownup, to suspend all your linear storyline intentions. it’s crazy and kooky, but oh so fun. the illustration, which is inventive and offbeat (and i mean that in the best way possible), really shines, in my opinion — i understand it’s computer generated, yet there’s something so hip yet campy about it. i wish i could put my finger on it.

there’s a short series, but my favorite is mr. lunch borrows a canoe, precisely because the storyline is so zany. canine mr. lunch, you see, is a professional bird chaser. he ends up in a canoe, gets frightened by a bear (who is only trying to take a picture of the famous mr. lunch), and paddles all the way to venice. there, he ends up clearing a palazzo filled with birds, gets a medal, and then goes home.

yeah, i know. it ain’t shakespeare. but it delighted jools and his sister. any book that can hold the attention of a 4 year old AND an 8 year old simultaneously is a winner in my book. and me, i pretended i was on a little mental trip. it was nice to let go of reality for five minutes and end up back in a happy place πŸ˜‰

Mr. Lunch Borrows a Canoe

Free Lunch