Mouse's DIY Dinnertime Tantrum Tamer

Last night Mouse invented a brilliant dinnertime game to amuse herself during the interminable wait until the noodles finished boiling. Since I can't take credit, I'll describe the activity set-up from her POV.

Wait until Mom has her hands full. Then seek out a convenient basket or bin (Mom wouldn't have left it there if she didn't want me to play with it!). Then pull the contents of the basket out one item at a time, proclaiming the item's name and description loudly so Mom can fully appreciate my brilliance. Repeat until the basket is empty. Then shove everything back in the basket and start over again.

You can tell by my cheekiness that I was initially not enthused by this activity (yet another mess to clean!). Then I realized:

1. No damage was being done and she was completely safe (within sight and, while making a mess, not playing with anything harmful).
2. The basket she'd chosen was filled with new (i.e. impossible to open) Play-Doh cans, which she was stacking as she unloaded them (motor skill development!).
3. In an effort to get my attention, she was calling out the color of the lids (color recognition!).
4. She wasn't underfoot in the main kitchen area (like her brother always was at this age).

So I embraced her game, which kept her playing it until dinner was ready, and kept me from losing my sanity.  

Have your kid(s) ever invented a "game" that turned out to be a diamond in the rough?

One of "Those" Days

Moose and I had one of "those" days on Friday.  A screaming-shrieking-toddler-in-the-middle-of-Target day.  And again on Saturday.  A walk-out-of-a-birthday-party-early day.

About the time the parenting self-doubt was really sinking in, Sunday dawned, and I scooped up Moose and took him to the park.  Half peace offering (because my tone and volume and words weren't as nice as they could have been on Friday and Saturday).  Half selfish repose (because there is much less to worry about when it's him, a slide, and some dirt; so he licked a rock, so what).

And it dawned on me that kids are not unlike the sun.  Yes, we rise when they rise (whether we really want to or not).  But more than that: they're constantly, constantly moving.  Shifting.  Sometimes imperceptibly, and we ease along with them.  Sometimes more dramatically, and we're caught outside in the blistering heat with no sunblock.

And that makes our jobs (as parents) hard.  Really hard.

Sometimes we want solutions, and sometimes we just need to sit on a swing, and watch the shadow shift, and delete (or at least ignore) all the blog posts of other mommies' awesomeness delivered to the inbox.

And remember that all of it - the bad and the good - is moving like the sun, and for better or worse is only here for now.

Some Monday Light Reading

It's Monday.  The Moose spent half the weekend sick, before joyfully bouncing back - and passing it on to me.  So no Tot School post today, and no recipe, either.

However, if you're looking for some good reads about subjects that are not related to last night's Big Game, the Halftime Show, or the commercials, may I recommend the following:

My Moose is as spirited as they come.  I found great comfort (and some good ideas) in this wonderful post on Loving a Wild One over at (in)Courage.

I shamelessly indulge in any bit of trivia about Queen Elizabeth.  Thankfully, there seems like there will be plenty to be had in this, her Diamond Jubilee Year.  These glimpses into her  upbringing, personality and "real" life are a delight if you are similarly inclined.

Speaking of delightful English things, if you've been looking for a way to explain Downton Abbey to your male friends, this should help (thank you, SNL, for this great public service).

And if you're in the mood to spend a few minutes in the kitchen, these recent recipes were a hit (before I was struck down by the Moose's latest daycare ick)!

• Sarah's Brown Rice and Avocado Salad with Vietnamese Dressing.
• Gina's Skinny Green Monster Smoothie.

(And if you do want a little something from last night's festivities - I shan't name the event, lest I be struck down by the NFL - here's my favorite ad; I might be from a GM and Ford family, but these days, my Motor City pride swells to the tune of Chrysler's ads.)


Photo Credit

Bubble Therapy

The Moose asks to play with bubbles. A lot. When we are inside. When we are outside. In the bathtub. Whenever he sees anything remotely shaped like a bubble. You get my drift.

Lucky for him, I "get" it. I loved bubbles as a child, too. My mom indulged my sister and me with all kinds of large or fantastical bubble wands over the years. And I already started stocking up on some interesting bubble blowers as I ran across them over the summer.

Playing with bubbles with the Moose has been a delightful return to childhood for me. But more than being a fun throwback, I have discovered that blowing bubbles is incredibly therapeutic.  In order to make quality bubbles, one has to start with a deep breath and continue with a slow, controlled exhale.  Without intending to, one enters into a pattern of yogic or meditative-like breathing.  The heartrate slows.  The temper (not that I ever have one, of course!) calms. 

I'm sure there is a physiological and neurochemical explanation for this process.  All I know is that, as the end of the day, when the Moose (like most other two-year-olds) is not at his Mr. Congeniality best, I look forward to bubbles at bathtime.  The water play calms him and the bubbles never fail to bring out his giggles, and I get to (have to!) take a deep breath even if it's been one of those days that I can't step away for even a minute.  And it's probably way better for me than a traditional happy hour!