Improbable Things

Look ma, cheezy diorama

Look ma, cheezy diorama
Originally uploaded by sophiagrrl.

Don't miss the upstairs exhibits in Natural History. These haven't been updated in a generation - ancient peoples weave baskets or thresh grains. The plaques are old - nay, classic - in design. Just text - nothing more, nothing interactive, no flashing lights or Tufte-inspired graphic displays. Here we learned that nomads had goats in their tents... and also baby camels, apparently. My favorite: the bull mummy. It looks sleepy and a little bored.

Bull mummy at the National Museum of Natural History
Originally uploaded by sneakerdog.

Brighter by day

See! Positive happy things! No, that is not a 'camera smile' - that is a true-blue giggle, captured on the up-swing.

 

We got out to the Natural History Museum today. I'm the big ol mama with the double stroller... and no, I'm not gonna apologize. We saw the elephant and the whale and the insect zoo. Where are the leaf-cutter ants? Their tunnels were eerily empty. The hatching moths made up for it though - massive! The video of the deep sea feast on the whale fall is mesmerizing.

To all of my friends who are expecting their first child - I apologize. Don't read my whinging. A friend wrote me this morning to cheer me up and to remark that she knew what I was going on about... and that it drives her "crazy how people gloss over the realities of sleeplessness when discussing having a baby." At first blush, I could agree. But then I wondered, how could we do anything else? Each child is different and you can't really know the parameters of your insanity until you are a few months into it. You also don't know how you will cope with it. My own post would have been lost on me, back before WeeE was born. And it's not so bad nor does it last so long that you would not have a child or advise anyone else not to. We knew what this would be like but we still did it a second time - and we've reminded each other on several occassions that we KNEW that February and March would indeed be the darkest longest months. Again, no colic, no health issues, no one deployed or traveling, nothing making this any harder than is completely normal. Which is hard enough, thank you, but I should be grateful instead of all self-pitying.

It's easy to make things look hard.

We switched to a new playschool. I might yet regret the decision. I stayed to help the kiddo transition this past Friday and had some fabulously circular conversations about how few things are easy to fix in the room.

~ The bulletin board is on the ground because it fell off the bookcase it was propped on and is considered unsafe. Apparently it is impossible to hang it up since that would involve city engineers. DPR offered to have us either
1) prop it up on the same bookcase in the morning only, then set it back down when class started. Bad idea: Aside from being fussy and silly and unnecessary, the worst time to have it propped up is when there are 20+ people ushering through the door.
2) permanently affix it to a bookcase at knee-level. Bad idea: it's for the parents, not the kids, so knee level is again just silly.
This left me asking why it had not just been removed, if a bulletin board has been determined a hazard in a classroom and cannot ever under any circumstances be safely hung up (which I just find a ridiculous claim). DPR replied, because we had wanted one - didn't we still? Well, yes, but not a broken one tucked behind a table, which in my book is called clutter. The board is still there and the pushpins have been removed. If it is there on Monday, I'm torn between just hanging the damn thing myself or hauling it out into the trash, even though it is a perfectly fine bulletin board.

~ The dry erase board above the crib: This is very firmly affixed and cannot be moved. It could be used for something and we now have permission to use it. Downside: it's above a crib so parents would have to reach over the crib to read, post or take down information. Also, it's not standard procedure to put hanging things like bulletin boards over a crib where a baby could grab at the markers or magnets. I asked about moving the crib to the other wall, out of the middle of the room, so that we could use that space better. The reply: the crib was placed in that exact spot by a supervisor and cannot, under any circumstances, be moved. Again, why would that be impossible? Does the baby's mother have any objections to the crib being in a safer location?

~ A closet with doors: The classroom has no closet and so everything is stored in short cubby bookshelves pushed backwards against the wall. The teachers have to move the bookshelves out and crawl in on hands and knees to get access to, say, crayons. Our DPR contact claimed closets are not age-appropriate for the 2 year old classroom because of tipping issues. All closets apparently. Even closets for teachers and parents to use. And apparently no, they cannot be attached to the wall without overcoming a lot of obstacles (I infer more hiring engineers again). She felt it would take up space and I explained that using some vertical space was better than the grey bin of snack supplies on the floor, the messy craft cart, the loose scissors that I confiscated, the unsecured gallons of tempura paint, the push pins from the board, the un-used potty seat, the baby wipes and supplies could all be safely put in there, creating both a safer and cleaner environment. She didn't seem to clearly understand that the intention was to end up with LESS stuff in the room, not more. Also, since others (might) use the room, a closet might not be safe for them, or might take up their space... I was unclear what this argument was conveying, but apparently the desires of some unknown folks who might use the room in the evenings also have to be weighed in. I offered to research a pre-school safe closet, maybe even one from an approved DC gov supplier.

The one thing I gained (aside from the possible ire of a person I'd prefer to have as an ally for asking apparently annoying questions), is that the broken record player and records (Wha?) beside crib will now be removed and the paint gallons will be stored in that cabinet.

You might wonder why I care about the little things. When simple things become difficult for no reason, then we can't cope when we have real issues to solve. It's easy to make things look hard. It's hard to make them look easy. We put up a perceived (and unproven) danger of a tipping closet ahead of the real annoyance and real hazard of a cluttered room?

My husband works for the DC gov and his experience is that you just stop asking permission. There are too many folks (even excellent and devoted folks, like our DPR contact, who I can see is an exceptional and talented lady) who can't answer yes to anything. The answer is always no, because that is just how it is done. Because everyone has authority to say no and no one has authority to say yes.

When I hear that DPR can't hang a bulletin board in a classroom or move a crib, I get a little crazy. I want to be positive and practical and a partner to our DPR contact in the struggles she faces. But if you start with sublimely ridiculous claims of ineffectiveness, there is no room for me to cut any slack. She set the bar in that one conversation... and even if she gets the board hung, it's clear to me that the status quo will be to make every little think look hard.

Perhaps I should just come in with hangers and a hammer on Monday and hang the board myself. Why not? Will I get kicked out of the new co-op? Will it get taken down? I'm inclined to just fix up the room, make it for the kids, and ignore all of the obstacles put up.

I feel for every DCPS teacher out there, where I assume it's as bad if not worse. Put the kids first and don't look back.

Middle school(er) rage

I should start this by admitting that I am in a bad mood. I had angry dreams last night - dreams where I got mad and stood up and said so. The mood lingered into the waking hours.

So I had to run my husband's keys across town when he forgot them this morning. It was a blessing in disguise, because otherwise I would probably have remained a hermit at home, even with the wonderful weather. But once I was up and out, I took the Kiddo to the playground.

Our favorite playground is a few miles towards the middle of the city, but it's halfway between here and where my husband works, so it's convenient. I popped off there today thinking to take advantage of the great weather and the crowds of kids out on a good summer day.

I did not factor in the older kids. I get the impression there was a school group/camp group there, because there was a mob (deliberate usage, I'll elaborate) of 8-12 year old boys racing around the playground. This is a pretty large place, with at least 6 different play spaces and equipment designed for the under 2 crowd up to the older kids. I've never had issues with mixed ages or large crowd here. Until today...

The boys were out of control. They raced in all direction at top speed, climbing the slide, throwing toddlers out of their way, generally intimidating the mothers who mostly opted to escape their path. But my daughter LOVES that playset and when it was too crazy, she just stood there waiting for a chance. She's a calm easy going kid, one who pleases, so she just let them push her away when she finally made it to the top of the slide. My existing mood met my momma-bear protectiveness, took a liberal dash from my general sense of justice in the world, and I intervened.

I tried first to just note that they should not climb the slide when other kids were there. The didn't even turn their heads to find the source of my voice. I broke a huge taboo and touched a few of them - or rather they touched me when they careened HARD into my outstretched hand blocking them from running up the slide. Still, I was nonexistant, a ghost, as they dodged under my arm and continued on. There were 4, maybe 6, boys but it did not matter. They were responding with a mob mentality - if they all just keep on, no one could stop them ALL, right?

I doubted myself, Am I just a grumpy old lady with a young kid and no sympathy for the needs of older kids? I dropped this doubt when another small kid was drop kicked in the head by one of the boys... AND NO ONE CARED! Well, her mother did, but NO ONE ELSE did anything! The boy ran off blythly. (Angry images of Novak hitting that pedestrian swam through my head.) I was done.

The next charge I yelled. I channeled the few things I learned about high school discipline during my shortlived tenure in the classroom and I demanded they get off the equipment.

I'd love to say this had an effect, but it did not. Until their teacher (a bright young thing) came over and went on something like, "hey, guys, this lady has asked you 4 times not to climb the slide (so she noticed?!). If you can't listen, then we will have to leave, now try and do better. I think a little kid got scared (how about kicked in the head, lady!)"  and then some more that even to me sounded like the teacher in Peanuts. And they were off again.

So we left. And in the car, I fumed on what I wish I had done. I wish I had had the power to demand they get off the play equipment, then all of them apologize to the mother of the child they kicked, then leave. No warnings, no soft admonishions. These kids are older than that and if they have not learned some manners yet, then it's already getting late. "Kids will be kids," some say. Which is a way of shrugging and admitting that kids will be violent little beasts at times. It was a teachable moment... or it was just mob mentality reinforced as the best tool to defeat authority.

Middle schoolers 1: Grumpy mom 0

More Explorations without Leaving Home

The great thing about living where we do is that there is a never-ending array of places to explore. I thought about calling these 'adventures' instead of 'explorations' but mostly they are not adventuresome. Mostly just fun and interesting, which I'm all for, since an adventuresome trip with a toddler is generally ill-advised.

In recent days, we found ourselves walking around Dupont Circle and flummoxing the security at the Association for Microbiology. As unusual an occurrence as it may be, there is nothing at all illegal about a mother and child entering the building with a stroller and a space heater. Promise. And no, my husband doesn't work there. But the guy who wanted to buy the space heater from my ad on Craigslist does and I didn't mind dropping it off. I'm sure if anyone thinks about that for long, they'll decide it was exactly the kind of thing the grandfatherly security guards were supposed to stop at the door, but they were too busy being super friendly and charming to the baby girl.

After that little jaunt, we went and bid adieu to The Awakening down on Hains Point. Upon first seeing this monster rising from the ground, Ms Pickles responded with the only reasonable response: she shook her head and said, firmly, "no!" After a few daredevil boys climbed all over his head without being eaten alive, she hopped right to climbing, proving that if the other kids jump on a giant's head, she too will jump on a giant's head. The statue is being pulled up today for a relocation to National Harbor, where we might see it again in the future.

Saturday we decided to ferret out Brookside Gardens and Brookside Nature Center, all interconnected with the Wheaton Regional Park (map). The Nature Center was a hit with the knee-biter crowd and would be worth the drive for some good programming (even if I did disagree with the educator there as to whether or not the Red-eared slider turtle is a native to Maryland. It is not, which is neither here nor there, but they should know since it's on the poster in the playroom). We hiked 3/4 mile through the park, past the miniature train and carousel to the playground, which is a dreamscape of 1980's recreational design. Check out the Death Slide! The Flintstone car made with real 4x4 timbers and nails. Or the piece de resistance, the Pinata Pole! (The white stuff on the photo is toddler slime on the camera lens. Say it with me, ewwwww.) Although the park is showing its age and the fact that it was designed when there were only half as many tort lawyers, it was a huge hit with the kids. It has places to crawl around in and under, lots of steering wheels for maniacal toddler drivers, and this adorable little playhouse/lincoln log cabin.

Which, yes, Lilibet demanded we climb into with her. She 'took' this photo: I turned the LCD to her and when she pointed and said, "Mommy! Daddy!," I clicked.

Still to come, a recap of a tour of Unitarian history in Baltimore. Presidents Day itself ended up being a sick day, since half the family had fevers and just wanted to nap. We are all on the mend and not minding a few days of nappishness.

Happy Presidents Day

We skipped Valentine's Day. It's a Hallmark holiday that makes single people more miserable but doesn't really do anything for non-singles. We noted it and agreed that we weren't into buying tokens of our love because we were told to by marketers.

So let's move on to a holiday that this household can get behind: Presidents Day! The Wash Business Journal reports that DC is not a President's Day vacation destination. Americans are more likely to travel to NYC or Las Vegas. Boo. Hiss. Sigh. I'm not surprised because in my experience, people are not curious. They want entertainment and presidential history is a huge snore-fest to most. Most of America is not as devoted to Sarah Vowell as I am.

But this household thrives on the trivial and intellectual. We love holidays like Presidents Day.

First off, Presidents Day wasn't made official until 1968. Originally, the holiday was ostensibly Washington's Birthday (though we weren't sure if he was born on Feb 22 or Feb 11, apparently because we don't know which calendar was being used when and where he was born). When Lincoln came along and conveniently had a February birthday (Feb 12), February started to get crowded with Presidential themed holidays. In 1968, we decided to set the record straight (or firmly crooked) and celebrate Washington's Birthday on the third Monday of the month, regardless of the actual date. It's popularly known as Presidents Day and observations of the day off are pretty mundane - apparently mostly shopping at Presidents Day Sales.

Today the Post has a great collection of articles on Presidential Homes (or at least sleep-overs) in the area. (Link) Lincoln's Cottage is just around the corner, on Old Soldiers Home, which encompasses 272 acres in the middle of the city that the public are not able to explore. Makes me very curious.

If collections of knick knacks is more your speed, try the Tudor Place. Although I think this might be more fun for garden events, such as their annual Easter Egg hunt. Both Tudor Place and Dunbarton House had views of the burning of the White House in 1814, but only Carlyle House in Alexandria hosts one of the very few re-enactments of the War of 1812.

Most of these places would prefer toddlers were kept at a safe distance (preferably a few blocks away), but it's good to know that these are here, for later, when she's taller and smarter and so much more jaded to the wonders of presidential history.

In the meantime, we celebrated a springlike February day in the muddy fields around Hains Point and bid adieu (temporarily at least) to The Awakening.

Explorations.

Toddlers are explorers. You can't look at a human child and not see the whole history and future of human exploration. From the Maori to the Portuguese, we are a species that seeks to reach beyond our grasp and if observation of children has taught me anything, it's that this is an inherent trait. We don't learn it; we just survive it if we are lucky.

Most of our explorations in the last week have been more mundane than crossing the seven seas...

Thursday I caught Ms Pickles kicking back a box of paperclips like a shot of vodka...and then panicked while she swallowed one. The resulting Friday ER picnic took about five hours and the verdict: There is no paperclip. Either she coughed it up or passed it (unlikely) or she can magically digest metal paperclips (even more unlikely) or I'm going crazy (unfortunately too likely). At least they gave her a very nice toy horse for her troubles.

The next morning we tried to repair things with a visit to Clemyjontri Park. Which is overwhelmingly nice. No expense was spared in the imagining or execution of this park. Oddly, though empirically I have to like the park, I found it almost too perfect Perhaps I'll warm up with more visits, but the joy of play was so scientifically executed, so carefully designed, that I found myself craving an simple stick and pile of sand.

In the evening we celebrated Imbolc, which meant we were with friends in a house filled floor to ceiling with lit candles. A parental challenge but we met and overcame it. No dogs were singed, no toddlers toasted. We didn't even have to resort to slipping Milk Punch in her bottle.

We rounded out the weekend with a trip to Oxon Hill Farm. This fulfilled by stick and sand desires. Rabbits, draft horses, cows, wild turkeys, chickens, hogs, and a pissy donkey... I loved it and intend to explore to much further.

Then we ignored the Superbowl and watched commercials while munching goose (which kinda looked like a football but tasted delicious).

And tonight we joined a small local Episcopal Anglican congregation for a Shrove Tuesday Pancake supper. Ignorant of the meaning behind this tradition, I was just looking for a kid-friendly dinner alternative. It worked out excellently well and now I know that pancakes have deep spiritual meaning for some.

Aside from the ER visit, these are all small measures of getting beyond the winter malaise. I can feel the energy coming back. I'm looking forward to spring.

Botanical Gardens 2007

The winter storms spared us so we could go check out the trains at the Botanical Gardens.

The trestles and buildings were all made out of found natural materials. Acorns, moss, sticks... Our favorite was the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, which had a single gourd for its dome. E loved the trains, which were equally thrilling each and every time they came around again. While leaving we caught the Capitol Building at a dramatically pink moment. Bill notes that it's easy to forget that we live right beside one of the most beautiful buildings in the world.

All through this little adventure, E showed off how easy-going she can be. She's happy! She loves this crazy world we've brought her into. She's a glass half full, dump it on the dog, and giggle kid. We climbed the grassy hill to see the Christmas tree in front of the Capitol and it was bitter cold, biting wind, muddy soggy ground... I was none too happy but grinning and bearing it for the grandmother. And WeeE was spinning. Arms out, twirling in a graceless zombielike manner, happy. Bill and I paused and watched and I commented that maybe she was a little addled to be so euphoric.

Afterwards, we went to Union Station and had a nice long dinner with family. E konked out halfway through and fell asleep on me. When we wrapped up to leave, she woke up delighted to find out that we got to ride the escalators! Ooohhhh. Aaaahhhh! Cries of joy for escalators.

She balanced it out by being tired and cranky all evening. But I still watch her in wonder and think, I should try to live up to her. She's already a problem-solver. Already more patient than me. Already such a generous person. (I'm told this will all be balanced out in her teenage years. Thanks for that reassurance, folks.) There is no harm in aspiring to being as good a person as your child. We can all do with some goodwill toward man, some hope, some wonder.

Buy Nothing Day

Yesterday was Black Friday, where, as we all know, the retailers hope to make it into the black. That may be more myth than truth, but the cultural impetus to shopshopshop until you drop on the Friday after Thanksgiving is so strong that we talk about Black Friday as much as we do about Thanksgiving. I noted this the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, when I ran out to Macy's for a tablecloth and roasting pan. All the ladies there, clerks and shoppers alike, asked me if I was ready for Friday but no one asked me what I was doing for the actual holiday. I replied that I intended to stay away from the shops and spend time with my family because, really, it was going to be a stressful madhouse with long lines and angry people. They all nodded sagely in agreement, but admitted that they were dragging their loved ones out to shop.

Oh well.

We walked. A kinds of After Dinner walk, only taken the next day instead. I'm such a geek, I mapped it.

Buy Nothing Day Walk

By my reckoning, it was about 3.5 miles. Bill guesses more like 2.25 but I like the sense of accomplishment I get from my estimate. (And my map doesn't even include the walking to and from the Metro at home.)

How the DC Library Doesn't Suck

 You might recall that I recently rediscovered the DC public library - main branch. I returned a third time this Friday and here's what I left with:

• The Richness of Life by Stephen Jay Gould
• Moon's Handbook of Oregon
• Children's Learning from Educational Television: Sesame Street and Beyond by Shalom M. Fisch
• Mommy Wars edited by Leslie Morgan Steiner
• Contempt of Court: The Turn-of-the-Century Lynching that Launched a Hundred Years of Federalism by Mark Curriden and Leroy Phillips Jr
• The Travels and Adventures of Serendipity by Robert K Merton and Elinor Barber

What I always liked about libraries is that you can explore further outside the defined boundaries of your likes. When you have to buy a book, commit hard cash, you don't pick up things you are not sure of. But at a library, you can play loose and fast with what might be interesting. With the exception of the Oregon Guide, all of these were simply 'finds'.