1m2aSandbox

So last week our big project was the re-doing of Cora’s bedroom. Declaring yellow “not pretty any more”, she asked for a pink room, offering Maddie her bedspread, lovely vintage prints of wildflowers, and more as she pink-i-fied her room. Cora’s dream? To turn her room into a ballet haven, complete with a sign on the door saying “Do not come in unless you are a dancer!”

All went well to start, as you probably saw in my last blog. We spackled holes, moved out furniture, taped off trim and ceilings, and primed the whole room. Cora chose to sleep with Maddie that night, and we closed the door on her pristine white room, the only furniture in there her big bed covered in plastic in the center of the room. I tucked the girls into Maddie’s bed and said a cheerful good-night.

And then Cora started crying.

Both girls this year have asked to paint their rooms, and Brian and I agreed to give that concession to them as a birthday gift.

Sure, we could shell out five hundred bucks per room to hire someone to do all the hard work, but what would be the fun in that? I remember re-decorating my room a few times as I was growing up, and loved the DIY-ness of it every time. We were operating on a negative budget, but my mom never made me feel like we were doing it to save money: painting and moving furniture and sewing our own curtains was part of the fun of it all.

Yesterday Cora and I drove past a neighborhood Montessori school housed in a fanciful building replete with towers and royal-like flags.

“Mommy,” Cora said, “That building looks like a castle, but it’s not a castle. It’s really a children’s school.”

A friend of mine told me that her daughter recently walked out of a bathroom and remarked casually, “Every time I look in the mirror I’m surprised that I’m pretty.”

Nonplussed, my friend pressed the issue and learned that her daughter considers herself unattractive – not because of anything that anyone has said, it’s simply how she sees herself.

Now, my friend and her husband are excellent parents and raise all their children thoughtfully and deliberately, and made the choice a long time ago that they would not dwell on appearances when speaking with their children, especially their daughters. So a compliment from them might sound something like this: “Hey, your outfit looks very pulled together today! I can see that you spent a long time working on it.”

Dear Cora:

I usually start these yearly letters off by saying something like, “I can’t believe it’s time again – the year flew fast!” And while this year might have been speedy, I can DEFINITELY believe it’s time for a birthday letter.

You, my dear, are straining at the leash to turn five. I have seen such growth in you – and I’m not talking physical, though if you don’t slow down you’ll be swimming nekked by July because you’ll outgrow all the swimsuits I JUST BOUGHT YOU – that I can’t help but be aware of how much you’re growing up. Any traces of babyhood have been firmly erased, and you are drawing in your new self with bold strokes, filling up the pages and eschewing any need for an eraser.

Maddie and Cora are almost exactly two years apart. Maddie’s development often seems to catch me by surprise – hey, look at that, she’s rolling over! I can’t believe she recognizes her alphabet! Wow, is she putting her face in the water and blowing bubbles already? That sort of thing. Cora is just the opposite: I’m inclined to think such unfair thoughts as – hey, why isn’t she brushing her teeth as well as Maddie does? When is her attention span going to get better?

It’s not that I’m constantly comparing Cora to Maddie, in a sort of “Well, Maddie rolled over at four months and Cora didn’t do it until five months. Slacker.” way. But with your first child, whatever stage you are in feels like it will go on forever: you will ALWAYS be breastfeeding/pureeing solid foods/changing diapers/potty training/sleep training/whatever. And then suddenly you’re in a different stage.

Sunday was, of course, Mothers’ Day, and I had a lovely time with my girls, my mother, and my mother-in-law. We ate out both lunch and dinner – decadent, I know – and I took a good long nap in the middle of the day – equally decadent.

When Brian asked me last week what I wanted to do for Mothers’ Day, it reminded me of every day over the past several years he’s asked me that question. And how my answer has evolved over time.

The first couple of times Brian asked me what I wanted to do, I responded, “I do NOT want to change a diaper. All. Day. Long.” And he kindly took over the entirety of that chore. All. Day. Long.

The other day Cora and I were in a public restroom – Cora sitting on the potty, me staring politely at the back wall. This is how we do it. A moment of silence, and then Cora said amiably, “You know, Mommy, Chiwallas are baby dogs.”

A Chiwalla, in case you wondered, is a Chihuahua. Sure, I could correct her, but who wants to? It’s so darn cute every time she says it.

“Some Chihuahuas are baby dogs, you’re right, honey. But some are grown-up dogs.”

“No, Mommy, a baby dog is called a Chiwalla.”

I’ve spent a couple days this week talking about teacher gifts so feel free to catch up before you start reading today. But if you’re already caught up, let’s dive in – to my own ideas for what to give teachers as a “thank you” for putting up with your kid –and, let’s face it, you – for a year.

First off, think about who you want to remember with a little something. For me, it’s the people I see every day, whose paths I regularly cross as my daughters go about their school lives. So if you’ve never had a one-on-one meeting with your school principal and can only vaguely remember what she looks like, then don’t worry about a personal gift; perhaps something small for the whole office staff to share would be great.

Monday I ranted (a teensy bit) about end-of-year teacher gifts, and how they’re often stressful – and unnecessarily so.

Today I’m here to make some suggestions.

I spoke with a few friends, all of whom are teachers in the public school system, to get their input on this thing. Here’s what they had to say:

It’s that time of year again – when the weather warms up and the days grow longer and everyone is thinking of one thing:

Time to get cracking on the teacher gifts.

Of course, the time to get cracking was a few weeks ago – now we’re in crunch mode. But I’ve been working on them for a couple weeks here, and have a few things to say.

And some suggestions for gifts.

I’ve talked many times about how parenting is continuously building fences around our children, only to knock them down and re-build them a few feet further out, over and over and over again.

I feel like I’ve done a lot of re-positioning lately.

Maddie’s becoming aware of her independence in new ways, and is tentatively testing it out in different situations. She’ll often shyly ask if she can do something herself – and then move forward hesitantly, but without looking back. And when she’s finished, she glows with triumph -and skips happily back to nestle in my arms.