hump day nuggets, 10/05/11: fall

little bits of the season in words and images from the past week, as inspired by digthischick 

A chance reference to a popular TV show in class today led to my saying that we don't watch TV in our home. This was then followed by three minutes of animated protestations of disbelief on the part of the entire room, which for a while I weathered with a relaxed and half-humorous sense of detachment. I would have felt good about the exchange, applauding myself inwardly for making the best of yet one more opportunity to challenge my students' worldview, when one of the students said, in response to my remark that research shows TV affects children's developing brains negatively, "What are you trying to do? Raise super people?" That stung.

 It just so happens that the New York Times published an article on raising "super people" this week, which outlines in painstaking detail the profile of parents who devote their adult lives to raising "super people." Like Simplicity Parenting, which I am almost done reading, the article brings into stark relief the pitfalls of raising children in a place like the Silicon Valley, where intensity and competitiveness percolate unconsciously into kids' DNA from the moment of conception.

 I didn't like hearing what my student said but, in a moment when I was beginning to feel defensive about a simple choice that evolved naturally out of our lifestyle, rather than being forced upon it, the question made me pause and answer honestly another question: why no TV?

The answer is complex and surprisingly fluid: not because we want the smartest children around; not because we are worried that watching Sponge Bob will decrease their IQs; and not because we don't watch TV while standing on some higher moral ground.

Our TV left the living room at a moment when we realized that no one had use for it, and we are open to bringing it back if and when the kids have genuine need for it. At the moment, playing with them, reading to them, and allowing them to explore their world freely feels far more important than getting them acquainted with Dora the Explorer or Clifford the Big Red Dog. When our priorities change, so will our environment.

In the meantime, I am thankful to my student for reminding me that crossing the thin line between heartfelt choice and hardened principle often depends simply on being made to feel defensive. All parents are fighting the same battles, and choices are always profoundly relative. It helps to remember that.

We obviously went to a pumpkin patch this weekend, on a farm south of San Jose that we have been visiting for the past three years. It feels good to know that we are creating seasonal traditions, and to have two children who both walk and talk.

The place is a photographer's heaven, and it is hard to turn in a direction where pushing the camera button does not produce a masterpiece.

As Raya's been telling everyone who would listen to her (and then listen to her again, because every story needs to be told and retold), she and Sava rode the train and the tractor, and Sava pushed a wheelbarrow while Raya rode in a "biiig wagon!".

We bought ornamental pumpkins only, which Sava personally picked, while Raya wallowed in dust to her heart's content.

It gives me a warm fuzzy feeling to think that our girl was born in this beautiful transitional season, and we look forward to blowing the Big Two candles with her next week, as well as celebrating fall and her birthday for the rest of our lives.

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This week I decided to simplify life and write down some of the funnies that come out of their mouths the moment I hear them rather than rely on foggy midnight recollections.

On the way back from the pumpkin patch, Sava remarked, in near amazement, how if you have one single seed, you can plant it and get a pumpkin out of it; then once you have a pumpkin, you can take the seeds from that and plant many more pumpkins, and that way, "you may never have to go to the store again!" He then said something along these lines, "It would be nice if we had seeds for cars and houses, too..." Our little logician.

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All of a sudden, and for the first time in both of their lives, the kids are engaging in a lot of pretend play with dolls, and especially with Raya's "Emma," which Sava keeps saying he wants to have, too. When Sava takes a bowl and starts feeding the baby, Raya toddles over and shouts in most urgent voice, "Mommy, I need a separate bowl for Emma!" 

They read to the baby and make playdough birthday cakes for her, singing "Happy Birthday" in broken unison and with a pathos that nearly brings tears to my eyes.

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Sava is starting to show more and more of how much he is able to read, even though it always has to come out unsolicited and in the most casual manner, without any pressure on our part. Then when he reads something, like he did "California street" tonight, Raya takes a deep breath and shouts right back, "Mama, I read CaNifornia street!" 

We have yet to determine whether her compulsive competitiveness is just a cute phase or a life-long affliction.

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Sava tore a million of tiny pieces of toilet paper on the floor while doing his business in the bathroom the other day.  When I called him to clean up and asked whether it had been fun making the mess, he replied in his usual earnest voice: "Ehh....not the cleaning up, I would say. But it was fun to do!" He is quite fond of saying I would say these days.

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He is officially signed up for all-day Kindergarten and attending until 3 pm every other day, to test how his stamina holds up. He came back elated after the first day, despite an incident on the playground which had him puncturing his tongue with his teeth after a jump from somewhere high, and today told me that the afternoon is the only fun part of Kindergarten. He gets to play Star Wars legos, build trains, read books, and hang out with his favorite (beautiful) teacher without having to do addition and subtraction worksheets for her. Who wouldn't love that?

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Raya has been trying to pee standing up at the toilet like Sava, and getting quite frustrated as she searches for and doesn't find her thingy. Then on Saturday night she sat on her potty naked, trying really hard to make a pee, pushing on the bottom of her tummy and grunting. After about a minute of these strenuous efforts, she lifted up her head suddenly and announced with deep certainty and profound annoyance, "It doesn’t work!" 

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On a Saturday morning drive, I mentioned the possibility of stopping by a rummage sale. After Raya’s mandatory cheerful echo of, “Yay, we go on a rummage sale!”, Sava remarked in his, yes, usual, earnest voice, “So if you go to a rummage sale, you don’t have to fold things, you can just rummage through them.” My little literalist.

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On Saturday afternoon I was putting Raya to sleep, singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb," while she nodded off, eyes fully closed. I was getting sleepy myself, and instead of singing the last line as “the teacher did reply” said “the children did reply.” Her eyes popped open immediately, and she said, “teacher!” then closed them and nodded off again.

She officially knows several songs, in both English and Bulgarian, and would hum or sing them whenever the muse strikes her. When I tried to sing a Bulgarian song at the table the other day in order to distract her while shoveling in those last bites, she stopped me and said, "Mommy, no singing! Just Raya..." then proceeded to sing the entire two-verse song (and take no bites).

She effortlessly says things like, "I'm doing some letters with my marker," and loves to stop in the middle of whatever she is doing and exclaim, "Oh, I forgot to...(fill in the blank)!" 

We try not to make too much of her verbosity, but it is very hard not to gasp on average several times each hour as stuff pours out of her mouth that we never suspected was in her head. It takes on average two or three repetitions of a word from us before she is using it correctly, and she often will say things after she has heard them only once.

We read constantly, and whenever she is in particular need of attention and feels that everyone is doing something external to her utterly self-centered persona, she'll waddle to the living room and announce, "let's read a book on the couch!", knowing full well that this is a request neither of her parents can refuse.

While it would be hard to say that her general attitude towards life is becoming one of selfless understanding and tolerance, she is absorbing some of the rules of "sharing" and "taking turns," and acts especially graceful towards her brother, which is not hard to do, as he invites that sort of treatment.

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Life is short, and it is hard but ever so worth it to savor the little moments. Happy hump day.

homemade playdough!