The Pull of the Arches

Today we're letting our preschool birthday boy select a place to eat out. "Any place I want?" he asked.

"Any place you want," I assured him.

"Hmmmm....what's that place with the white things that stick out on the roof?"

I wracked my brain trying to picture a restaurant with white things on the roof. Finally I resorted to simply listing all of the nearby restaurants. "Chili's?"

"No."

"Applebees?"

"No."

"Steak-and-Shake?"

"No."

On and on we went like that through Wendy's, Burger King, Don Pablo's, Panera Bread ("Silly! That's a lunch place!"), Old Country Buffet. Finally I tossed it out, the dreaded Mickey-Ds.

"McDonald's?"

"Yes! Yes! That's it! I want to go to McDonald's!"

"Really?"

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Well, um...." Some of you may recall that I'm not fond of McDonald's. After reading Eric Schlosser's amazing book Fast Food Nation about three years ago, I resolved never to eat there again. Evidently I've done a very good job of avoiding it. This is, after all, his fifth birthday!

"What kind of food do they serve there?"

Ah, that felt good. To know that for five years he's been clueless about the place felt like we were succeeding against all their ploys to suck in a kid. But, of course, they're scoring one on his birthday. I impulsively promised he could go anywhere he wanted. With a sigh, I explained, "They have hamburgers and french fries, just like all the fast food places."

"Oh! Okay, then, I'll have chicken nuggets and french fries, and if they have a small cheeseburger, maybe I'll have that, too."

Man, I sure do wish we'd put some conditions on the birthday outing.

I'm not sure how we managed to pass that place ten thousand times without his realizing exactly what it was all about, but all that's about to end. It's hard to fight against a rainbow colored indoor play place, a grinning clown, and food that comes with a toy. Put it that way and it sounds like the perfect birthday destination--I can't say that I blame him for wanting to check it out.

Of course that's all part of McDonald's plan. Smart place. But they've only got us once a year, at best. And next year, I'll be a little more savvy. From now on, birthday dinners will come with one restriction: no golden arches.

A Few Reasonable Words

From today's Writer's Almanac:

Goethe said, "One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words."

Emphasis on few? Or reasonable?

Today I'll focus on few.

Gary Paulsen on Writing for Kids -v- Adults

I love this portion from an article in The New York Times about author Gary Paulsen:

Mr. Paulsen stopped writing for adults 10 years ago. “It’s artistically fruitless,” he fumes. “Adults are locked into car payments and divorces and work. They haven’t got time to think fresh. Name the book that made the biggest impression on you. I bet you read it before you hit puberty. In the time I’ve got left, I intend to write artistic books — for kids — because they’re still open to new ideas.”

Is this true? I'm not sure...I like to think I still respond to artistically written books, whether for kids or adults. I hope I'm still open to new ideas, even with the car payments and work. But it's true that when the kids and I read a book together, they listen with hushed anticipation and openness to the story. I often respond to their response rather than simply experiencing it directly. I did cry at the end of Walk Two Moons, however. All on my own.

With Apologies to Pluto, Mickey, Gentle Readers and My Son

Turns out Pluto isn't a planet after all. I'm getting confused, but it sounds like he didn't make the cut and is now considered a "dwarf planet" according to this story in the International Herald Tribune.

Confusing and sad.

Sorry for misleading and misdirecting everyone.

I told my son that I was wrong and Pluto wasn't a planet after all.

"What?!" he exclaimed, applying his ever-appropriate philosity.

"Pluto is not a planet."

"It's not?"

"I got it wrong. I'm sorry, I thought it was, but now they're saying it's a 'Dwarf Planet.'"

"Oh....what's a planet?"

Ah, yes, that would have helped for him to know what a planet was in the first place. For fun, I abbreviated the definition given in the article. "It's a celestial body orbiting around the sun," I began, "with sufficient mass for gravity and doesn't overlap with other orbiting bodies. Something like that."

"What?!"

"That's what they're saying. It's a new definition of a planet."

"Oh....where did you hear about it?"

"In a paper."

"Which one?"

"The International Herald Tribune."

"Oh.....(picks up the local print paper) is it this one?"

"Nope. It's online."

"Oh."

So a preschooler gets his first science lessons. This is what I imagine that college prep preschool must include in its curriculum. "Okay, children, let's talk about planets today. Everyone pull out your personal copies of The International Herald Tribune and turn to the Science section, okay?"

Composing a Quotable Quote

I've been wondering how quotes become famous.

Someone will find one line from a novel and next thing you know, it's flung across the web like a frisbee, and bloggers catch it, record it, and toss it back out again. Famous. Or at least well traveled. I don't think the origin of the quote matters much anymore. In other words, the person doesn't need to be a famous statesman or poet to be quotable. Average citizens are being quoted all over the Internet these days.

So yesterday I thought, "Hey, why not me?" and set myself to composing a quotation people would latch on to. Something true and pithy. Something funny, perhaps, or poignant. Even though my preschool son is chattering nonstop in the background, instructing me on how to care for a plastic elephant with pretend pills, I'm going to try to write to inspire. Yessirree, world, pay attention. This may be the next thing you'll read in Oprah's magazine or scribble out and stick on your fridge.

"If parenting is an art, I need far more than a 64 pack of crayons with a built-in sharpener. I need the meticulous care of Vermeer, the creativity of da Vinci, the endurance of Michelangelo, the ability to see beyond what's in front of my face like Van Gogh, and the playful spontaneity of Picasso. The catch is to avoid losing my sanity!"

Okay, maybe not. Besides, I may not have pegged the key points of each artist. Let's see...I guess you'd have to pick a line from this long one:

"Do people who practice mindfulness ever take time to reflect on their lives? If I live only in the moment and fail to plan for my future or learn from my past, I may negate the very thing I'm hoping for, unable to live wisely and effectively in the 'now.' However, I suppose the trouble comes from dwelling in the past and worrying about the future. If I focus most of my thought time and energy reliving mistakes and glories of last week or long ago, or fretting about tomorrow's or next week's events outside of my control, that's when I'm wasting my life. With appropriate analysis of past choices and some healthy planning for what's ahead, I'm free to invest thoughtful energy in each moment, the only place where my soul--bound by chronology--intersects with eternity--unbounded and timeless."

Oh, that seems like I'm over philosophizing, like I'm trying to copy Madeleine L'Engle. Besides, it's hardly pithy. Too many compound, complex sentences strung together in a row.

One more try:

"We should all take ten minutes out of every day to blow bubbles. For an investment of about 50 cents, we'd get outside and enjoy some fresh air, learn to breathe more deeply, appreciate brevity, and maybe even laugh a little."

Hmph. Well, I guess writing a memorable quote has to happen by accident, otherwise it's too self-aware, like a kid swinging on a swing making up songs lyrics who suddenly realizes someone's watching him. You can actually see the shift from flowing moments of true creativity to an awkward self-consciousness. He talks louder, watches the audience out of the corner of his eye, and just tries too hard.

Try a few quotes of your own. Don't try too hard--just write a few thoughts. Stick them in the comments section. Who knows? Your words may fly across the 'Net within days!

The Bad Handwriting-Genius Link

When my oldest two girls were young, we worked a lot on their handwriting. As a result, they have legible, attractive script. By the time the third daughter came along, I didn't spend as much time helping her with penmanship; consequently, she doesn't write quite as nicely. And if I were to be honest, I don't write as nicely, either.

So we were sitting around the table talking about the third daughter entering third grade. I said, "It's good that you'll work on your handwriting. I'm sorry I really failed you there and didn't have you practice as much as you should have." She looked dejected, so I added, "But don't worry, some of the most brilliant geniuses in the world have terrible handwriting!"

Without missing a beat, my eldest stated, "Like you, Mom!"

I burst out laughing.

"What?" she demanded.

"Well, I'm not sure if I should feel complimented or offended!"

My oldest looked perplexed. She didn't realize that it could be construed as an insult. "You say yourself that your handwriting is terrible."

"That's true," I admitted.

"I can barely read your shopping lists," another child stated.

"Well, it's a shopping list," I protested, "I'm scribbling fast!"

"Maybe you should work on your handwriting, too," they suggested.

"Fine, fine," I responded. "But you have to tell me--am I a brilliant genius?"

They just laughed. How am I supposed to take that?

Of course, I guess I said just about the same thing to my third-grader. Sometimes I should just keep my big mouth shut. That would be genius.

One of My Friends with Hodgkin's

Not one, but two friends of mine have been recently diagnosed with Hodkin's. One of these friends, Jenne, is currently in treatment. The other, a teen-aged friend, will begin treatment this week or next. I don't want to comment or write about the cancer, it's just too...Nothing does it justice. So I'm doing to direct you to someone who is writing much more powerfully about it from personal experience.

Jenne has been blogging for some time, so the cancer experience has just folded into her already established history of clever thoughts, comments, photos and essays. She's a great storyteller, thinker and writer, making her blog an intriguing visit.

Then, if you want to see a simple, quiet, poignant video--just a simple action, an empowering choice--read the August 09 entry (titled "It All Works Together Somehow") in her blog first. You simply must have the context before watching the video. I can't force you to, but I urge. If I had any authority, I'd insist. It'll be so much more powerful.

Do you think you want to watch it?

Okay, go read August 09 in her blog. Go ahead.

Good. Now you may visit YouTube to watch the video (I can't vouch for any other videos being decent). It's short. There isn't much to it. But if you read the blog like I begged you to, it will be meaningful.

This is the link to the video. It should begin the moment you get to the site.

On a Completely Different Note: Thick Eyebrows

I was delighted to read in the fashion section of the New York Times that dense, furry eyebrows hearkening back to 1978 Brooke Shields are back. Fall fashions will require more foliage, evidently. They mention several models who have nice, bold brows, but pinpoint an American as the standout:

"[T]he hairiest of them all is Hilary Rhoda, a fresh-faced American model possessed of eyebrows as furry as tufted caterpillars, whose eerie resemblance to Ms. Shields recently landed her on the covers of Italian and French Vogue."

As a woman with heavy brows (but not that heavy), I'm happy to hear that I'm naturally in style. Cool.

British Mom's "My Kids Bore Me" Essay

Not long ago I was searching for articles that had to do with motherhood and came across an essay by a British writer: "Sorry, But My Children Bore Me To Death!"

I read it and the follow-up comments, and thought it was just an odd thing I'd turned up in my clicking around online. Then today our local paper featured it on the front page of the "Living" section: "Saying the Unsayable, British mother's essay sets off a new skirmish in the Mommy Wars." I didn't know it had made such a widespread, controversial splash.

I re-read it and thought about it some more. I wonder, Is she exaggerating for effect as a writer, or does she truly feel those negative feelings to the extent that she describes?

I think her phrasing and outrageous statements are what stirred up the extreme reactions. In my opinion, the way she's written this has made it as much about her view of children in general as it is about her feelings as a mom. She almost seems to relegate children to substandard beings, disrespecting them as persons. In the opening paragraphs, she talks about how boring every birthday party or children's outing was when her kids were little. She'd respond to invitations by saying she couldn't spare the time and send the nanny in her place. While the children were at the parties, she was out running errands. "I confess that I was probably ogling the merchandise at Harvey Nichols or having my highlights done instead. Of course I love my children as much as any mother, but the truth is I found such events so boring that I made up any excuse."

The editors ask readers to respond to whether or not Helen is "selfish." I don't know about selfishness, but this woman's writing causes me to question whether or not she even respects the precious, unique, expressive human beings who are developing under her watch. I'm not saying she should have to stay home with them or attend every one of those parties. I'm just wondering if she believes children at those stages are remarkable even when to us their ideas may seem trite or "below" our "superior," adult minds (I write this facetiously to illustrate how she comes across). She talks about avoiding them. "To be honest, I spent much of the early years of my children's lives in a workaholic frenzy because the thought of spending time with them was more stressful than any journalistic assignment I could imagine."

The early years with my children were indeed stressful, especially when we had three kids in a row. I don't argue her that. I did enjoy every solitary outing as a refreshing break from days that seemed monotonous. I tried to keep writing as a part-time occupation so that my thoughts weren't exclusively on pureed peas and diaper genies. I believe that the daily demands of parenting can feel boring at times--but the kids themselves boring?

Regardless of what a mom chooses (staying at home, working full- or part-time, from home or away, etc.), she can respect her children as people, whether she delegates their care, education, language development, safety, interaction, etc., to others or does it herself. I guess this woman has me concerned that she is bored with them because of how she views them. She writes, "While all my girlfriends were dropping important careers and occupying their afternoons with cake baking, I was begging the nanny to stay on, at least until she had read my two a bedtime story."

Later in the article she talks about how so many parents live child-centered lives and that kids are overscheduled--she states that sometimes it's good to let them be bored. I agree with this to some extent--my job as a mom is not to be the source of continuous entertainment or even educational activities for my kids.

(I do, by the way, think it's funny that she's played around with the idea of boredom...does she realize that her kids may find her supposedly vibrant adult world boring? My kids sometimes find my grownup conversations desperately dull.)

The occasional days when my kids claim they are bored, I might make a few suggestions that give them an idea or two. Then they head off and often find themselves greatly entertained (and often learning new things). So letting kids be bored forces them to be creative and take initiative. I don't argue her on that point, but I won't use it to justify avoiding or ignoring my own kids, which seems to be the main reason she included it.

She offers this toward the end, in her concluding remarks:

"Frankly, as long as you've fed them, sheltered them and told them they are loved, children will be fine. Mine are — at the risk of sounding smug — well-adjusted, creative children who respect the concept of work.

"They also accept my limitations. They stopped asking me to take them to the park (how tedious) years ago."

Sounds like she's covered the first three levels on Maslow's hierarchy of needs: food, shelter, and love...at least she's telling them they're loved. I guess that's enough. It's a bare minimum, I suppose.

But I shouldn't be too critical, as I have found myself craving adult conversation on many occasions. I've dreamed of developing a full-time writing career. I've grown weary of reading Dr. Suess books (clever as they may be on the first or second reading, they get old after four kids and 12 years of review).

But I respect that when my daughter needs to describe every moment of her school day for a full twenty minutes nonstop, that's important. I might feel bored, but this is her world. I need to respect it. I respect her. When one of my kids wants to explain step-by-step how she assembled an erector set ferris wheel, I try to pay attention--she's working things out and learning in that repetition. When my son wants me to read "Green Eggs and Ham" one more time, I settle next to him on the floor, flip open the book, take a deep breath, and begin: "I am Sam....Sam I am...." Words, connections, ideas, synapses, language, writing, reading, they're all flashing around up there in that mind of his. I respect that. I love that. And most of the time, I'm not bored by that.

And come to think of it, I think I'll take him to the park. He'll try the monkey bars and call out, "Mom! Watch me! Watch me!" over and over and over. I might find it tedious now and then, but he won't, and I respect that. I love that. I love him, and sitting at the park and watching intently as he works those arms and swings those legs to catch the next bar is a great moment. He knows I'm there, that he's safe, that he's loved. I'll grin and wave. I'll give him a thumbs up and nod approval. I won't be bored.

He's our last child. These are the last years with early readers and monkey bars.

Suddenly, nothing seems boring. Nothing at all.

Mickey's Dog Lives On

Sunday or Monday the kids and I heard a report on NPR about whether or not Pluto would retain its status as a planet. Scientists were to decide Wednesday and report to the world the conclusion of their debate. I explained in simpler terms what the reporter said. The girls were somewhat intrigued and offered their own opinions (most thought it deserved to be a planet after all these years of being considered one), and then my preschool boy, who had listened carefully, piped up that it would be a shame if Pluto wasn't a planet anymore, because then Mickey Mouse wouldn't have a dog.

This morning, my boy ran into the room and asked, "Mom! Mom! Is Pluto still a planet?"

"Oh! You remembered! Sorry, I forgot to tell you--yes, it is!"

"Oh, good!" he responded, then he ran downstairs and announced it to his dad.

From what I heard, the scientists redefined "planet" and thus allowed a few more orbiting objects in our solar system to also become planets, called "plutons."

Pluto's in, and Mickey still has his dog. Whew!

A Long-Range Perspective

I noticed a sign by a small, private school that used to be K-8, but downsized to just preschool and Kindergarten classes. The sign read:

College Prep
Preschool and Kindergarten
Now Enrolling

Tell me, what would a college prep curriculum for preschoolers include that a standard one wouldn't?

What Is Fun?

Okay, I need a little input here. If you were looking for a book for moms--maybe you're a mom, or a grandma looking for something for a daughter or grand-niece, or maybe you're The Hub of a mom--would you look for something "fun"?

And if you were looking for something "fun," what would make it fun?

I'm just curious, because I've been told that a project I'm working on isn't "fun." Now, I don't know that I ever set out to make it fun in the first place, but I'm open to becoming more fun. I like fun. Sometimes I'm fun, depending on how you define the word. Well, I don't know. Maybe not. And now that I'm riddled with self-doubt, I'm not sure if I'm funny, either--but humor is so personal. What I think is funny might bore you.

At a party last night we were talking about this very thing. Is "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" funny? One person said "I was watching it and finally turned to my husband and said, 'This is really stupid.' I couldn't even watch the whole thing." But as soon as we started quoting lines from it, like "It's only a flesh wound!" and reenacting the bridge scene "What is your name...", well, we were all cracking up.

I guess I'm not sure what's fun or funny, and I'm not sure my book is either one.

Evidently I worry about the fun factor. I hate to think that I'm boring. Man, the last thing I'd like to do is bore readers.

So let me see if I can come up with some funny stories, because I don't want to bore people here, either. Okay, I was reading a book for moms and the author included this story: A mom told her daughter that her tampons were "special tissues that only mommies use." The next day this same mom was having coffee with a neighbor when her child walked up with a tampon stuffed up her nose. When asked what she was doing, the little girl replied, "I'm just using some of those special tissues that mommies use."

Is that funny? Perhaps that makes her book fun? Maybe it's funny, or fun, but maybe it isn't. Maybe it's just gross.

While we were on vacation I got an email from a mom I'm getting to know. She asked, "Is your house cheerful? Is there a lot of laughter in it? I get the impression that there is." In other words, she was asking if we were fun!

I pondered it on and off all that vacation week. Our family had been grumpy with each other quite a bit the weeks prior and on the drive north, but the vacation was an excellent remedy so that by the time I got home and answered her note, I could honestly say that our house was cheerful. But I also admitted that it wasn't always. We have the potential to be fun, cheerful, and full of laughter, but sometimes we're quiet and serious. Sometimes we're cranky and irritable. We're often thoughtful or even silent (when we're reading, for example). We're definitely not in a constant state of silliness, goofiness, or fun, so maybe I should just give up on the idea of fun--at least in the book.

Perhaps I'll rename the project. To manage expectations and avoid any confusion, we'll just call it "The Grumpy Mom" or "The Somewhat Serious Mom." That way I don't have to worry about being fun or funny. I can just grumble and grouse about life and if I insert an unexpected story about tampons, it'll be a surprise. Do you suppose that publishers would pick that title up and run with it? "The Grumpy Mom." It has a certain ring to it, don't you think?

Lessons in Enunciation

Today, I asked my youngest to strip his sheets. "Okay," he said.

A few minutes later he came into the hallway and asked for clarification: "Did you say to eat string cheese or brush my teeth?"

I must apologize for slurred speech. Sometimes I get that way at the end of the day, a little mumbly. My dad always said I needed to enunciate. Now my son confirms it.

Maybe this is why I prefer writing?

Duck Lovers, Take Heart

My mom reported some good news for ducks and duck lovers:

A family of ducklings and mama were crossing a busy intersection at a very busy time of day. We saw them start, but couldn't get out to help. In fact, we anticipated the same little tragedy you experienced. However, to our surprise, all the traffic slowed or stopped for them!! They made it across the road into some trees, and we can only hope they don't try it again. I don't really think the people of my county are that much nicer than the ones in yours, but at least there wasn't a harried, or unfeeling, truck driver involved.

Ann here: I'm relieved to know that there are still people who stop for ducks, turtles, rabbits, and any other little critters that aren't expecting a ton of steel to run them down while searching for lunch.

If you've never read Robert McCloskey's Make Way for Ducklings, perhaps you should visit your local library and check it out today.

Cancer Awareness

Inflammatory Breast Cancer (IBC) is something every woman should at least know about. It's a rare but deadly form of cancer usually undetected via mammogram. Someone sent me an e-mail about it, and I found out it is not an urban legend racing across cyberspace. This news report will explain it. If just one woman has some of the symptoms and gets it checked out, early detection could save a life.

Mental Nourishment for the Impoverished

While I was thinking that clean water and healthy food would be key to focus on for children in poverty, a futurist has poured resources into his intiative: One Laptop Per Child. A laptop for every child, eh? Will this advance the cause of education in third-world countries so that children have access to technology and can compete with kids from industrialized nations like our own?

Or does it simply ensure that they'll surpass us at solitaire?

I originally read about this at the Mental Floss blog. They deserve credit for the solitaire jab.

(Actually, I've heard that a lot of African leaders have cited education as a top priority--seeing it as essential for change in the next generations. As a result, this very well could supply children with resources that could increase knowledge. We may need people to donate encyclopedias to load onto the laptops, too.)

"30 Days" Has Returned!

He's back! Morgan Spurlock is back with "30 Days" on FX.

You may recall that I was impressed with the first season and suggested that people check out his show. Well, I'm sure it takes a while to put these documentaries together, so I endured a pause until the next group was ready to air. I may be wrong, but it also seems that they are getting more publicity than the first time around. I like to think I had some small part in that, promoting it here on my blog, where at least three people visit. :)

I missed the first episode while I was on vacation, but here's the amazing news: MSN.com is showing it in its entirety (after an opening ad, it's commercial free) online. Click here to get to the main page, then click on the title that says "30 Days." It does take 48 minutes to watch, so be prepared to sit for a while. On the other hand, with this technology you can pause it and help your daughter with piano if need be, like I did.

In this episode, a Minuteman who volunteers to help patrol the U.S. border lives for 30 days with a family of illegal immigrants. Each side articulates clearly his or her point of view. I won't spoil anything for you, but I do have three words for you: pow-er-ful.

Before you watch it, however, I must warn that there is a little swearing. One word is beeped out, but during a heated exchange someone does use God's Name in vain more than once and they leave it in there as loud as it is shouted. If you can get through that, the rest is free from profanity and so powerful I urge you to consider watching to the end.

(The story about Spurlock on that same page is also very interesting.)