~Make some ATC's with your family: http://www.cedarsee d.com/air/ atc.html
~Blow up a bunch of balloons and make up games with them as you go.Fill some with water. DRaw faces on some. Ooh...FREEZE one with waterin it to make a huge ice ball!
~Read some unschoolers blogs: http://theparenting pit.com/http://sandradodd. blogspot. com/http://www.xanga. com/juliepersons
~Subscribe to an unschooling publication: http://connections. organiclearning. org/http://www.livefree learnfree. com/http://www.lifelear ningmagazine. com/
~Read Dr. Suess books in a VEeerrryy animated voice, especially "Whatwas I scared of?" (pale, green pants)
~Try to get marbles out of a pan of ice with your feet.
~Start an insect collection, not the dead kind, the kind you have tofeed and take care of.:)
~Go for a walk someplace new
~Have a water fight
~Grow a sunflower house to hide in: http://www.rain. org/~philfear/ sunflowerhouse. html
~Don't wonder if you're child "should" be learning ANYTHING this week.Just live. And be. And suck every bit of joy out of every singlemoment together. Because you can.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
To all parents!
For All My Favorite Moms by Anna Quindlen, NewsweekColumnist and Author
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrowbut in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what Ihave today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am,one closing in fast. Three people who read the samebooks I do and have learned not to be afraid ofdisagreeing with me in their opinion of them, whosometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until Ichoke and cry, who need razor blades and shower geland privacy, who want to keep their doors closed morethan I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom,zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouthall by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought forthe bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, thebaby is buried deep within each, barely discernibleexcept through the unreliable haze of the past.Everything in all the books I once poured over isfinished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. BerryBrazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry andsleeping through the night and early-childhoodeducation, all grown obsolete. Along with GoodnightMoon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered,spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flippedthe pages dust would rise like memories. What thosebooks taught me, finally, and what the women on theplayground taught me, and the well-meaning relations--what they taught me, was that they couldn't reallyteach me very much at all.Raising children is presented at first as a true-falsetest, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, faralong, you realize that it is an endless essay. No oneknows anything. One child responds well to positivereinforcement, another can be managed only with astern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trainedat 3, his sibling at 2. When my first child was born,parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly sothat he would not choke on his own spit-up. By thetime my last arrived, babies were put down on theirbacks because of research on sudden infant deathsyndrome.To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty isterrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you mustlearn to trust yourself. Eventually the research willfollow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr.Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, inwhich he describes three different sorts of infants:average, quiet, and active. I was looking for asub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did notwalk. Was there something wrong with his fat littlelegs? Was there something wrong with his tiny littlemind? Was he developmentally delayed, physicallychallenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China.Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine.He can walk, too.Every part of raising children is humbling, too.Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all beenenshrined in the "Remember-When-Mom-Did" Hall of Fame.The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language,mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed.The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. Thenightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The daywhen the youngest came barreling out of the classroomwith a 98 on her geography test, and I responded,"What did you get wrong?" (She insisted I includethat.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald'sdrive-through speaker and then drove away withoutpicking it up from the window. (They all insisted Iinclude that.) I did not allow them to watch theSimpsons for the first two seasons. What was Ithinking?But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most ofus make while doing this. I did not live in the momentenough. This is particularly clear now that the momentis gone, captured only in photographs. There is onepicture of the three of them, sitting in the grass ona quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summerday, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember whatwe ate, and what we talked about, and how theysounded, and how they looked when they slept thatnight. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get onto the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish Ihad treasured the doing a little more and the gettingit done a little less. Even today I'm not sure whatworked and what didn't, what was me and what wassimply life. When they were very small, I suppose Ithought someday they would become who they werebecause of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simplygrew into their true selves because they demanded in athousand ways that I back off and let them be. Thebooks said to be relaxed and I was often tense,matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top.And look how it all turned out. I wound up with thethree people I like best in the world who have donemore than anyone to excavate my essential humanity.That's what the books never told me. I was bound anddetermined to learn from the experts.It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrowbut in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what Ihave today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am,one closing in fast. Three people who read the samebooks I do and have learned not to be afraid ofdisagreeing with me in their opinion of them, whosometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until Ichoke and cry, who need razor blades and shower geland privacy, who want to keep their doors closed morethan I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom,zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouthall by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought forthe bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, thebaby is buried deep within each, barely discernibleexcept through the unreliable haze of the past.Everything in all the books I once poured over isfinished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. BerryBrazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry andsleeping through the night and early-childhoodeducation, all grown obsolete. Along with GoodnightMoon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered,spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flippedthe pages dust would rise like memories. What thosebooks taught me, finally, and what the women on theplayground taught me, and the well-meaning relations--what they taught me, was that they couldn't reallyteach me very much at all.Raising children is presented at first as a true-falsetest, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, faralong, you realize that it is an endless essay. No oneknows anything. One child responds well to positivereinforcement, another can be managed only with astern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trainedat 3, his sibling at 2. When my first child was born,parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly sothat he would not choke on his own spit-up. By thetime my last arrived, babies were put down on theirbacks because of research on sudden infant deathsyndrome.To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty isterrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you mustlearn to trust yourself. Eventually the research willfollow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr.Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, inwhich he describes three different sorts of infants:average, quiet, and active. I was looking for asub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did notwalk. Was there something wrong with his fat littlelegs? Was there something wrong with his tiny littlemind? Was he developmentally delayed, physicallychallenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China.Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine.He can walk, too.Every part of raising children is humbling, too.Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all beenenshrined in the "Remember-When-Mom-Did" Hall of Fame.The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language,mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed.The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. Thenightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The daywhen the youngest came barreling out of the classroomwith a 98 on her geography test, and I responded,"What did you get wrong?" (She insisted I includethat.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald'sdrive-through speaker and then drove away withoutpicking it up from the window. (They all insisted Iinclude that.) I did not allow them to watch theSimpsons for the first two seasons. What was Ithinking?But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most ofus make while doing this. I did not live in the momentenough. This is particularly clear now that the momentis gone, captured only in photographs. There is onepicture of the three of them, sitting in the grass ona quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summerday, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember whatwe ate, and what we talked about, and how theysounded, and how they looked when they slept thatnight. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get onto the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish Ihad treasured the doing a little more and the gettingit done a little less. Even today I'm not sure whatworked and what didn't, what was me and what wassimply life. When they were very small, I suppose Ithought someday they would become who they werebecause of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simplygrew into their true selves because they demanded in athousand ways that I back off and let them be. Thebooks said to be relaxed and I was often tense,matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top.And look how it all turned out. I wound up with thethree people I like best in the world who have donemore than anyone to excavate my essential humanity.That's what the books never told me. I was bound anddetermined to learn from the experts.It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
Friday, May 09, 2008
It's a Boy!!!
So, once again a long haitus since I have written. I spent much of April giving the kids 110% with the anticipation of the arrival of little peanut. I was so sure he would come early too! Instead.... one day late. What can I say, all on his own time. But what a fantastic labor and delivery. I hate to say it was "easy", I mean... dare I say? But it was SO much different than the other two, and it went by very very quickly.
It was about 4am on May 1st that contractions started. This time I knew it was not the 'fake'-me-out kinda labor pains. This was it.... however not in any regular patterns off the bat. It wasn't till about 6am that 10-11 min. contractions started regularly and we were well on our way.... with in an hour we were down to 5-7 min. apart with a random 3min. or 10 min. thrown in there. But progressing pretty well. I actually had nice breaks between the contractions where I actually wondered if this was really it.
It was about 7:30a when I called mom to let her know, "this is it"... I bathed the kids and myself, and let them know today was the day! It was bout 8:30a that I spoke with one of the midwives and she said to come in whenever I felt the need to. It was about that time that I called my brother to come by in the next hour or so and we'd see how things were going. By about 10a, dad came with Seringe, whom he had picked up from work and driven home. And around that time P showed as well. And all about that time I was getting really worried that maybe this thing was stopping! YIKES!
Fortunately with three adults home for the kids, I could now concentrate on getting things going for me and baby. I did stairs.... nothing. Walked a ton.... nothing. So I tried crouching over the side of the bed. Knees on floor and leaning forward over the bed with a rocking motion.... AH HA! This did it! 5 min. apart for a good hour and I was sure it was time to get going to the hospital.
Called mom to tell her we were on our way. Called the midwife to let her know the same. By the time we got in the car and on the way, we dropped to 3-4 min. apart. When we arrived... man the L&D ward was hopping! We got the very last room available in there!
Nurse Tina walked in just as we did and were so BLESSED to have her assist with the birth. Debbie came in to check on me and low and behold... I was 7-8 cm. along, completely effaced, and baby was nearly at 0. (Frankly, I had been bracing myself for far worse b/c the labor just really did not seem "that bad".... )
Well.... speak too soon? Yes, I guess in so many words I did b/c that last 1.5 hours was by far the biggest, loudest moment of the entire process. We have some funny pic's of the kids covering their ears. = ) But with in an hour and half of arriving, getting checked, getting on a birthing ball, and pushing.... little boy Jarjusey was born into this world! Big brother and big sister experienced the entire process, and we as a family were home that evening with an "as immediate as possible" discharge. Nonetheless, we were home by 9p that evening, all snuggled together in bed!
What a day!
Mr. Shea Seringe Jarjusey
Born Thursday, May 1st, 2008 at 1:21pm
9 lbs. 1 oz. and 20.5 in. long
What a beautiful boy! We are just all so blessed!
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