If you throw it on the floor, they will build.

In my teaching career, I focused on the sixth- to twelfth-grade set and never took any courses on early child development. My knowledge in that area has been of an on-the-job training sort. So, while I don't have the formal educational theories to back my approach to the development of the young child, I have some strongly held opinions on the right way to do things. One of my passionate beliefs in this area is that kids can never have enough opportunities to express themselves creatively. To this end, we have the requisite art supplies and sandbox tools, of course. Creative opportunity is most clearly witnessed in our house, however, in the area of building toys. We have them. We have A LOT of them. We have them everywhere. In the back of my mind, I think I should probably have the kids pick up one batch of toys before moving on to the next thing. On the other hand, who likes to be interrupted in the middle of a project? Meals go more smoothly if there's a promise of returning to the construction site of the moment after we're done eating. Toy types tend to blend, of course. Those big cardboard blocks often become the backbone to a kitchen design, pirate ship or maze. Currently, Erik's room contains Matchbox car highway system. Anna's room has a bristle-block empire. The baby's room is covered in wooden train tracks. (Hope you like, Thomas and James, Little Guy! Just be glad your brother wants to share.) The living room sports the Lego collection and the basement is a minefield of Lincoln Logs and Tinker Toys. Oh and the family room is a mix of toy food and Duplo blocks. It makes for a tedious clean up at the end of the day, but if some new synapse connections have been made, it's worth it, I hope.

Pondering our mix of kid creations, there are two areas that send me into a tizzy when I see other families take a different approach. It's the train tracks and the Lego bricks. Being basically cheap, I've added to Erik's wooden train collection via second-hand sources. Every time I find a listing on Craig's List from a family bragging that they glued the tracks to the train table to make life easier for parents and less frustrating for kids, I have a fit. Of course, it's frustrating. Especially when Erik was a toddler and he couldn't touch the trains without knocking over a bridge and crying, it was maddening. Yet, when he decided to give up napping and I let him play trains in his room during "quiet time" his skills improved drastically. He can now slap together a layout hat would make civic planners proud. (To be honest, I think I hear Anna sneaking into baby's room to play trains right now. If she doesn't want to sleep and it keeps her quiet, I think I'm going to let it happen.) As for Legos, whenever I hear of a family that builds a Lego kit then puts it back in the box, I want to cry. We get Lego sets because the picture on the front is interesting, but after that first build and a few hours of messing with the constructed thing, it comes apart and joins the communal Lego bin. The fire truck becomes so much more interesting when elements of the helicopter get added on. Last week's rain prompted me to dig out my old Lego collection. (Yes, I'm a girl with a Lego collection that I've kept for thirty years. My family is just that awesome!) Briefly, I considered keeping my Legos separate for rainy day purposes. (See previous post on my hang-up about "my" stuff.) Then Erik declared my Legos better -- just because they were new, I know. Anna collected all the minifigs and made various tiny tableaux. I happily built the house and the London bus that I used to love and Jamieson dove into the space pieces to relive his youth. It was family-bonding heaven! And when all the sets get mixed together and become one giant tower, well, so much the better!

There's the story of Frank Lloyd Wright's mother buying a set of special, geometrically-shaped blocks so her son could develop the talents she so wanted to see him realize. Now, I fervently hope my kids develop better people skills than Ol' Frank, but if any of them want to be Lego designers, that would be delightful. Really, I just want them to learn how to think. And clean up.

Mine?

Any number of times in my childhood my dad asked, "Do you have eyes in your fingers?" as I picked up something in a store that, apparently, I didn't need to be holding. I remember feeling very frustrated because sometimes looking is just not as good as holding on to something. Well, apparently that's still true for tiny hands. My kids are not just always underfoot. They're always touching things, and it seems to me those things are usually mine. Now, apparently the line between kid stuff and mom stuff is not very clear in this house. I see a house that looks like a toy store exploded somewhere within our walls. My kids see a world of things that mom is using that is far more fascinating than any boring toy. Computer? Needs to be touched. Scissors? Must be squeezed. Papers on mom's desk?  Kids must evaluate -- with pen! Raw chicken? Definitely must be poked. Yes, yes, I know. Kids learn by doing. So, I try to resist the urge to zip coats and fasten seat belts for them. I do my best to let them commandeer the dust pan and clean in their own unique way. I'm happy to let them slap together their own PB&J -- but not lick the spoon and put it back in the jar! It's just that they're everywhere, these darlings of mine. I'm well aware that it's normal for them to demand all of my time and my resources at this phase in their lives. Fine, I expected that. I just thought that maybe, just maybe, since I don't really have my own space or time,  I could enjoy exclusive use of a few things, maybe the mop bucket, the rice cooker, or just a yellow highlighter. No such luck. I'm just going to have to work harder to make my items even more fascinating. Look, kids! Mom's using a feather duster! No, wait. I tried that. I ended up with two kids "cleaning" each other, then asking for the ceiling-length duster. A six-foot long stick in your hands? Nah. Sorry, dearies. This one is mine.

Hostess with the most-ess... anxiety!

Another holiday completed. Check. Whew. As for the day itself, Easter is amazing. The most spectacular day in the church calendar -- how could it not be wonderful. After 40 days of solemn, yet theologically inspiring, minor-key hymns, Easter dawns with bells and trumpets and life. Amazing. It's all the other stuff that wears me out.

Being in the church choir, I was committed to participating in the first two services of the morning (at 6:30 and 9 a.m. -- oof). My folks arrived for lunch Saturday. It was a perfect, sunny spring day. So, after breaking from lawn chores to eat, Jamieson pushed on with yard work with help from dad and his truck. Now we have that rich earthy mulch smell to greet us every time we open the front door. Amazing how much landscape love mulch can give a house. Looks good. (And I didn't have to help this year!) Even if the days have been less than sunny and warm lately, the flowers and bushes are embracing spring, so we have daffodils in full bloom and green shoots on almost everything else. My garden isn't huge, but it is a treat to see things emerge and try to remember what plants are about to delight us.

After a dinner of "burrito pie" (hardly Easter-y, but tasty), we dyed eggs. Fortunately, only the yellow egg dye cup was spilled and the kids ended the experience basically the same kid-color they began it. We will leave the shrink wrapping and fancy designs for future years. Erik just wanted to make a lot of red eggs (that's all they do in some traditions, right?) and Anna wanted pink and purple. Easy enough. After a bit too much Easter-eve chocolate bunny indulgence, the kids were tucked in. I then had to try to remember where I squirreled away Easter basket gifts. During end-of-summer sales last year, I picked up a few discounted things and hid them in the back of the crawl space to avoid detection. Have I mentioned that I'm, as of today, 25 weeks pregnant? Well, I found the goods, got them tucked into baskets and scattered the plastic eggs all over the house for early-morning hunting. (I can't wait to put those eggs away for the season. They are everywhere!)

The challenge of Easter morning was the logistics of church attendance. I needed to be at church for 6 a.m. rehearsal prior to the sunrise service. Jamieson gamely suggested that we all go to the early service. I didn't think it could be done, but all six of us were there. The noise of the service was a bit more than Anna cared for, but Erik loved the extra music. I don't think the bell choir needs a five-year old boy as a member, but there's certainly a musical interest and ability for some interest amid all that wiggle.

We all enjoyed a delicious Easter breakfast at church then the rest of the family headed home while I stayed to sing with choir again. (As an aside, I don't know how much I contribute to the choir. It seems that most of the members are far more musically skilled than I will ever be, but I certainly enjoy being a part of it.) Since I needed a way home and Dad and I had come separately, he let me take his truck home. I'm sure someone in that parking lot was trying to figure out the expectant mama hoisting herself into a Wisconsin truck. I know I was.

Back at home the kids had been showing off their biking skills. Erik had moved on to shorts and a t-shirt. Anna stayed in her festive Easter dress with the addition of tennis shoes and a blue bike helmet. That's my girl. Jamieson's folks arrived at the same time. My idea of an easy dinner of ham seemed a lot more time consuming in practice. While Jamieson had already put the meat in the oven, I had appetizers, a fruit salad and veggies to assemble, all while people buzzed about my house. I don't do entertaining well. I'd like everything to be ready before anyone walks in the door and that never happens. Since that never happens, people offer to help and I don't know how to delegate effectively. Oh well, it may not have been a Martha Stewart Easter, but everyone was fed and happy.

Erik did not have school today, probably so the teachers could leave the job of sugar detox to the parents. Honestly, if there is just one holiday that doesn't involve stuffing children full of candy, I'd like to know what it is.

So, that was Easter. Our next celebration will be Jamieson's birthday next weekend. He won't let me get an ice sculpture or hire a balloonographer, so it will be more low-key!

Observations

Great comments of the week so far:

Anna: "Look at all Callie's belly buttons!"

Dad: "The garbage truck is here."
Erik: "Boo-yah!"

Great moments in parenting innovation:

I just used a twist-tie as a ponytail holder.

Ears of all sorts

The wait-and-see approach seems to have worked for now. Last night was much more peaceful and both kids seem to be improved. The colds are still here but the kids don't seem as bothered as they did a day or two ago. So, here's hoping we've dodged the ear infection bullet this time around!

Now that Easter is just a few short days again, I realize how much I need to get done. There's a house to clean and food to prepare. Entertaining is not one of my gifts, but I do find it easier to relax in my own home even if it's full of other folks. We hit Aldi for a basic ham this morning. I'm so hopeless at menu planning on a grand scale that I may buy another tomorrow just because nine pounds of meat doesn't seem like enough for a family of carnivores. My efforts to push more vegetarian dishes have faded for now (Baby wants protein!) but there is a glimmer of healthy eating hope: my children in the produce aisle. In general, I'm pretty good about avoiding toy impulse purchases for the kids. They will behave, or not, depending on their mood and mine, and I don't need a plastic kid-thing bribe cluttering up my house. I am, however, a sucker for begging for fruits or vegetables. Today, Erik turned down the multicolored peppers that he sometimes enjoys, but spotted a package of corn on the cob and asked for them for supper. The kid was walking through the store cradling the corn like it was a beloved toy. How can I resist? Anna would have been hugging the strawberries she gleefully spotted, but the mess potential kept those in the cart. We did have a small lunchtime tantrum when I had the audacity to require her to finish her PB&J before polishing off the strawberries, but after some "I don't want to! I want strawberries!" she quietly ate the entire sandwich and wolfed down the rest of the berries. Ours is a kitchen in which Erik has actually said, "Can I have more salad?" Of course, the salad dressing or seeds on top often motivate the request, but it's a start! And some green stuff gets eaten. We must be doing some small thing right.

Is there an ear doctor in the house?

There is just no making me happy when it comes to Erik's demeanor. Generally, he's so busy, active and loud, I would do anything for him to just sit still and be quiet. Now, several days into the cold that won't go away, he's rather sedate. It's so unlike him, that I just want him to feel better and return to his usual self. Can't win. We've been repeatedly asking him to tell us if his ears hurt, since it seems like he gets ear infections a week or so after a cold sets in and never says a word until his temperature spikes and he's in agony. This time, he's been telling us his ears hurt, but there's no fever and, until today, he's been acting like himself. Of course, he could just be congested. That plugged up feeling had him whimpering and not sleeping much last night. So the lethargy could be a simple case of the tireds or it could be an ear infection ramping up. Right now we're in wait-and-see mode since he's mellow but not miserable. Nothing like trying to figure out if and when to take a child to the doctor to make me feel like an inept parent.

Monday morning lament

Monday mornings are the worst part of my week. While most parents are heading off to work, or at least sending older children off to school and relishing their week-day routine, I'm at home with the same chaos-causing crew who has been running circles around me all weekend. And all week. And the week before that. The grandmas of the world love to gush about how wonderful it is to be home full-time with the kids, but they forget the endless tediousness of being home. Alone. With really loud children. Sure, thirty years from now, I'll have lots of stories about how grand it was to be there for my children's every moment when they were small. Of course, it a blessing to have these children and to take care of them. To be perfectly honest, though, it's tough to be thankful every blessed moment. When the kids and I all have colds, the weather is ridiculously sloppy and gloomy, and we haven't been out of the house in days, I don't particularly want to talk about how delightful it is to be a mom. I want to get in my car and go somewhere where I can accomplish something tangible. As it is, every project I accomplish at home is done to the accompaniment of young voices shouting about monsters and poop and followed by the same young voices undoing whatever I just accomplished. Whee. Don't let the talk about "paying the bills" fool you. The real reason there aren't many moms at home during the day any more is that this whole gig is, as I said, tedious. Really, who embraces that with enthusiasm? I'm just hoping that thirty years from now when I'm telling my kids how much fun we all had together, their shared knowledge that mom is just a little off-kilter will bring them closer together. See, it's all for the kids!

The best laid plans...

Considering how much I do like to plan ahead and have everything scheduled, I know other folks find it puzzling how reluctant I can be to commit to family activities until just before the event. Today is the example of why that is. I did manage to get out the door at 5:45 a.m. to help my mothers' club with our 5K race this morning. The rain wasn't what any of us had hopped for, but we managed. While I was gone, the plan had been that dad be in charge and take the kids to art class, followed by an egg-hunt where I would meet everyone. Unfortunately, Erik's cold hadn't gotten much better over night and Anna came down with it, too, as well as a fever. So, our busy morning became a day off entertaining stir-crazy, sick kids and watching the cold rain fall. Disappointing. Parenthood is just one big lesson in flexibility, and that's one of many lessons I just resist learning!

Joining the 21st Century...

In all likelihood, the world does not need another blog. It really doesn't need another blog by a mom showcasing the zany antics of her brood, which is exactly where this one is going. On the other hand, in my previous life, people paid me to write and paid me to help others learn to write. Now, no one pays me to do anything (unless you count the money saved by clipping coupons -- and I do!) but there are certain mental-health benefits to looking at family dramas as "material." I spend a lot of time telling myself that the moments that make me want to pull my hair out now will make for good stories someday. Since it's entirely possible that I'll be far too tired to remember any of this day-to-day stuff when "someday" happens, here are my notes on the state of things as they happen. Here we go...