Preschool - Take 2

Remember when I yelled at Parker about how he wasn't getting into preschool because he didn't know how to share?

Sharing might be the least of his worries...Today we went to interview another preschool. I just wanted a frame of reference. I swear I'm not one of those crazy moms who will stop at nothing to find and enroll her 3 year old in the perfect school. Anyway, today I had Maddie with me, too. In hindsight, perhaps that was a bad idea...

Parker was in his element. He jumped right into the activities, lined up when it was time to switch rooms, attempted to sing the songs they sang, clutched a discarded Valentine as if it were his own (and tried to convince the teacher it was), introduced himself to any child or adult who would listen (today he was "Peddy" or Penny from the Fireman Sam show), etc. He was doing really well. Then he announced he was ready to leave. I explained I need to talk to the director for a few minutes.

She took us to an empty classroom where she directed him to some toys. I was trying to watch Maddie, redirect Parker (who decided the scissors and paint were much more interesting than toys) and ask some well-informed questions. Yeah, right.

It quickly became the one-man circus. Parker started throwing small, metal toy cars across the room. The director firmly told him that one of the Cardinal rules of preschool is that, "We don't throw toys." She asked him to pick them up. He attempted to talk his way out of it. She (and I) insisted. He made it halfway across the room where he got distracted by some balls (which he threw across the room in the opposite direction). This went on and on. He'd start to put something away, run in circles, throw toys...


The director said that parents were allowed to volunteer anytime they'd like, "But you'll probably just want to drop him off, right?" (Please note: emphasis added to highlight my oversensitivity.)

I decided this would be a good time to ask about their discipline techniques. Based on her response, it just didn't sound like they'd seen the likes of Parker before. Parker continued to throw toys (though by now I was down on my hands and knees, in his face, "helping" him put them away). I decided it was time for us to go.

"NOOOOOO!" Suddenly the flailing began. Maddie joined in. I grabbed the diaper bag, Maddie's stinky bear (don't leave home without it), Parker's jacket, and picked up Maddie. I thanked the director for her time and told Parker to follow me. He rolled on the floor, screaming, [crocodile] tears rolling, insisting he couldn't put his boots on by himself. I'm pretty sure the director could see the steam coming out of my ears.

By the time they were both strapped into their car seats, I was a mess. I haven't checked my paperwork yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if they accidentally omitted the enrollment form.

He's Trying...

When I used the restroom today, the door was ajar. It may sound gross, but let me tell you, it beats listening to screaming toddlers and watching their chubby little fingers reach under the door. However, both kids seemed to be playing contentedly, and I was hopeful I would not be interrupted for once. Then I heard Parker's footsteps and watched the door shut. "I'm giving you some privacy, mommy." The Hallelujah chorus was ringing in my ears...

Moments later, however: Bang. Scream. "Sorry, Maddie." More screaming. "Sorry Maddie!"

I rushed out of the bathroom. Maddie was crying and rubbing her head. A small, very hard plastic ball lay nearby.

Me: What happened?

Parker: The ball just flew down from the sky and hit her in the head. (miraculous)

Me (more specific this time): Did you throw it at her?

Parker: No.

Me: (more specific still - I swear this kid's going to be a lawyer): Did you throw the ball up and and when it came down it just hit her in the head?

Parker: Yes...I said I was sorry two times...I even kissed her, but it didn't help.

He shrugged, genuinely baffled as to why his actions didn't make her "owies" all better.

*Sigh* At least he's trying.

Girl Time + Guy Time = Good Times

On Saturday, Aaron decided he wanted to visit the Cabela store about an hour south of where we live. To say that Maddie is not a big fan of long car rides would be an understatement. Do you remember the scene in the movie, Dumb and Dumber, where Jim Carrey makes "the most annoying sound in the world"?

Annoying sound sound bite Jim Carrey sound bites

Let's just say that without a continuous supply of snacks, Maddie is able to replicate that sound for over an hour. I don't think her waistline will tolerate more than one trip to Cabela's per month, so Aaron just took Parker this time.

Maddie and I spent the morning walking and shopping at a local town center. We visited a bookstore and stopped in the gift section. While I browsed the bookmarks, I noticed Maddie was awfully quiet. I turned to see her adorned with a plethora of Mardi Gras beads (hope she didn't do anything to earn them...she has been known to flash her belly button). Despite the colossal tantrum she threw upon removal of the beads, we had an excellent time together.

Aaron reported he and Parker had an equally fun time. Parker saw a policeman and went up to introduce himself, then promptly reached for the officer's gun. The policeman offered Parker his flashlight instead. Good call.

Parker then chatted it up with the concession stand worker, who was apparently quite happy to converse with him. (He is pretty cute, if I do say so myself). She noticed his firefighter boots and asked him: Are you a firefighter?

Parker (in his best, low fireman voice): Yup.

Employee: What fire department are you with? Lewis County?

Parker (oblivious): Yup.

Employee: Keep up the good work! Keep putting those fires out!

Parker (still using his deep voice): Don't worry. I'll protect you.

I'm sure she must have been very relieved to hear that, never mind the fact that we live in Snohomish County...

As much fun as we had apart, it sure was nice to have the whole crew together again. It's refreshing to know I can miss the kids after a short time apart. Bring on the preschool!

Cindy Loo Hoo

Sometimes Maddie reminds me of Cindy Loo Hoo from the Grinch. She wears this pink, zippered blanket to bed. In the morning, she doesn't want to take it off, so she walks around in this pink sack, and her hair is all crazy. It's pretty darn cute (if I do say so myself).

Today, I gave her a tiny box of raisins. I handed her a second box and asked her to give it to her brother in the other room. Much to my surprise and delight, she completely understood and happily obeyed, toddling off toward the office with a grin on her face.

I grabbed the camera...

Only God knows...

If you've ever looked on Blogger, you may notice you can press "Next Blog" at the top and come to another, totally random blog. Maybe it was the one created a millisecond after your own. Maybe it is the one who just published a new post. I don't know. Anyway, I ended up on some random blog today.

The way this mother was describing her girl brought tears to my eyes and a memory to my mind.

I remember when Parker first started to talk, and I mean really talk and hold conversations. He was engaged in some pretend play in the living room. He was turned away from me, talking to his toys in his high-pitched, sweet little boy voice.

I remember that exact moment. The tightness in my chest. The sting in my eyes. Parker was not my own. The realization took my breath away. He was growing and changing. He had his own thoughts and words and life.

I was jealous of God in that moment and also grateful for His presence. I realized He will share times with Parker that I never will. I can't even describe the peace and joy I felt knowing the Creator of the universe cares enough to listen in on my little boy's secret conversations.

Psalm 139:4-6 (New International Version)

4 Before a word is on my tongue
you know it completely, O LORD.

5 You hem me in—behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.

6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.

Let's do some Crapping!

With four children under the age of 3, my friend, Serina, and I attempted to make Valentines today. Let's just say this task really should be left to preschool professionals.

When they arrived I asked two and a half year old Spencer, "Would you like to do some crafting today?"

He nodded and shouted, "Pahkuh [Parker], let's do some crapping!"

An unbiased observer of the finished products might argue that we made just that. However, I think our tiny artists created some compelling, contemporary impressionistic...Oh who am I kidding? It looked pretty awful, but the kids sure had fun.

Maddie sucked two markers dry before we knew it. I checked the box. Non-toxic. Thank goodness! I was starting to get nervous about my numerous calls to Poison Control (pretty sure they are going to call Child Protective Services soon).

Parker and Spencer had fun, too - each in their own special way. I informed them it was okay to get messy today. Spencer wore his smock, carefully put paint on his brush, and then only painted the craft. Parker painted his smock, the table, his lips, chin, cheeks, his craft and then dipped both hands in the paint. "It's okay, Spence! Sometimes I like to paint my face. Do you want to paint your face?" Spencer answereed, "No," and they went on about their business.

Serina and I marveled at how Parker and Spencer are the best of friends and are so very different. Spencer is gentle; Parker is rough. Spencer is content to play out make-believe scenarios by himself; Parker requires an audience and oftentimes, audience participation. Spencer is interested in maintaining personal cleanliness; Parker is interested in making the largest mess possible and enjoys involving his clothes/body in the process. The list goes on and on.

I have to agree with the author, Henry Adams, "Friends are born, not made." Our two very different little boys were simply born friends.

Dad is a psycho!

Are you familiar with Handy Manny? He is a Hispanic cartoon character who owns a repair shop. Together with his talking tools, he successfully repairs any broken item in town, meanwhile teaching several Spanish words in every episode. Parker loves him.

He got a Handy Manny toy for Christmas. It includes a large, plastic Handy Manny, a motorcycle, and some tools. If you press a button, he says certain phrases.

One day, Parker came to us with his new Handy Manny riding atop the motorcycle with a perplexed expression. "Why does Handy Manny say, 'Dad is a psycho?'"

We, too, were confused. We pressed the button, cycling through the phrases until we happened upon, "That is a sidecar." With Manny's accent (and a healthy imagination), he could be mistaken for saying, "Dad is a psycho."

I looked at Aaron, raised my eyebrows, and told him that Manny knew him well.