Is it just me?

Is it just me, or are some children's books confusing to read?

I mean, I like to think that I have a pretty extensive vocabulary and can at least hooked-on-phonics (TM) my way through the correct pronunciation of words.

Now that G will sit and listen to a whole book we have started enjoying some of the classics and a lot of newer books that I have never read.

The books I have read before are "easy" to read but I've got to admit that some of the phrases in the newer ones make me stop and think.

In Michael Rosen's, We're Going on a Bear Hunt, is Oh-Oh! pronounced the way it's written, O-O or is it pronounced Uh-Oh, which would have a nicer flow to it?

Today after reading The Velveteen Rabbit for Community Reading Day, in my sister's 6th grade class, I had to look up the meaning of the following words.

bracken, which I found out is a type of fern

and

brigands, which is a theif or outlaw of some kind, but I'm still not sure what it means in the context of the story. He was going to play with the brigands. Cops and robbers, perhaps? (Maybe Ink can help with this one.)

Anyone else gotten tripped up by a Children's Book, or is it just me?

I think the real issue is patience, Just a little patience.....

I do not like waiting.

Which is actually quite hypocritical because I am routinely 10 to 15 minutes late for everything. Unless I am teaching or lecturing or in charge of the event, I will probably be late. When I am teaching, I force myself to arrive 1/2 hour to 1 hour early just to avoid the potential for tardiness.

One reason I don't follow the general rule of arriving 10 minutes early, like a friend suggested, is that I don't want to wait if I get there too early. Which is ludacris and selfish, I know. I am trying to work on this.

When I am waiting for something it often creeps into my every thought. Even when I have no control over when said thing arrives, I can't get it out of my mind, which is annoying and counterproductive.

I think the real issue is patience.

Brian Adams has this advice.

Learn the art of patience. Apply discipline to your thoughts when they become anxious over the outcome of a goal. Impatience breeds anxiety, fear, discouragement and failure. Patience creates confidence, decisiveness, and a rational outlook, which eventually leads to success.

Good advice, I'd say. Now we'll see if I can implement it.

Must have his father's sense of direction

Maybe it's me. Maybe it's him. Or maybe it's both of us. But the last two days have been brutal.

A taste of the brutality:

G: I want some ravioli.
Me: (Straining it from the boiling hot water. Taking a few pieces out to let them cool. Cutting them.): It's too hot right now. Just give me a minute.
G: I WANT RAVIOLIIIII! I WANT RAVIOLIIIIIII!
Me: It's too hot, G. We've got to let it cool.
G: IT'S NOT TOO HOT!
Me: (Trying to stay calm.)
G: MAYBE IT'S JUST WARM!!!!!!!
Me: Why are you yelling at me?

Leaving the house, G spots a bee while I'm locking the door.

G: Where's the bee going?
Me: Looking to see what he's talking about.
G: WHERE'S THE BEE GOING TO??????
Me: (Noticing the bee is near the steps and G is backing up.) He's not going to bother us. Let's just walk around him.
G: WHAT'S HE GOING TO DO???????
Me: I do not know.

And then some cute to counteract:

Yesterday, picking G up from daycare, I told him we were going to the store for popsicles. On the way to the store B called and suggested one of us do the shopping after dinner since it was already 5:45pm. I agreed and took a left to go home instead of going straight, to the store.

G (from his car seat in the back): Other way Mama. OTHER WAY!

How the h$ll did he know that?

Things I'm learning from G, #2

#2: Just RELAX

We pull into a parking spot at the library. I open the back door to let G out of his car seat and we immediately hear a loud and high pitched Ruff-Ruff-Ruff.

G leans forward and yells, "RE-LAAAXXXX!" with a stern look on his face.

I turn to see a small dog with a disproportionate bark, lunging at us from his fully extended leash.

It's true.

He (in my mind all dogs are he's, so we'll just go with it) should relax. At least a little. Yes, the barking may get his owner's attention. However, the straining and extremely loud noise he's making may cause more stress and anxiety than necessary, for everyone involved.

Yet another lesson from my 22 month old son.
_________________________
Blogger Project Update:

So far: 8 definites

Many of you have stated in the comments that you want to participate. In order to be sure that you are in and discuss the the details (arrange sending photos, etc.) please contact me at d_12pair@yahoo.com

I look forward to hearing from you and beginning the first phase of this project.

My blogging friend CK did an amazing post today of her first Stand-up comedy gig, which is hilarious. She also very nicely plugged my project, so you should go check it out on her site:

Bad Mommy Momments

Knowing he's there

G and I don't watch A LOT of TV.

However, I do have to admit that I cherish 7:30 to 8am. Breakfast is cleaned up and we sit on the couch together. G watches the end of Sesame Street while I work on the computer.

This morning we sat side by side, G sucking his thumb watching Elmo and Mr. Noodle while I clicked through my favorite blogs. As they started to wrap up the show, reminding viewers that Sesame Street had been brought to us by the letter (insert letter of the day), and the number (insert number), I felt a little hand reach over and gently walk it’s fingers from my elbow to my palm. He wanted to hold my hand while watching TV.

He didn’t even look away from the TV as he sat there sucking his thumb with one hand and holding my hand with the other. Maybe he just wanted to make sure I was there.

I wonder if he knows how glad I am that he is here.

Blogger Portrait Project

Half way there people. I just need 6 more participants.

Anyone interested?

Check out the project here and email me at d_12pair@yahoo.com if you want to join.

Don’t call me Richard

Sometimes I get mad at G.

Just typing that makes me feel guilty. He’s only 22 months. What could he possibly do to make me mad?

Well.

Throw his food on the floor, then look at me and say, “Funny?”
Catapult his sippy cup, chipping white paint off the table.
Listen to me ask him to stop and then specifically and repeatedly continue doing said thing.

He's not totally defiant very much, but when he is……

This weekend G launched a handful of hummus, peas and corn on the freshly washed floor. I washed his hands and face and got him out of his high chair. Then, as I bent down to clean up the mess on the floor, he started hitting me.

Why are you being such a d!#&, was my first thought, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I asked, “G, can I call you Richard?”

I thought it was a harmless way of releasing some frustration and it made me smirk.

In a serious tone he replied, “Don’t call me Richard. Don’t call me Richard, Mama.” Which made me laugh even more.

Wouldn't that make a great band name.

As in, "Hey we’re going to see Don’t call me Richard tonight. You wanna come?"

Blogger Portrait Project Update:
I'm still looking for people to let me sculpt them. I’ve been searching for a way to connect what I do here on the blog with what I do in my studio. I am a figurative sculptor, so I need people to sculpt.

I want to do a series of “Blogger” portraits, (my goal is 12). I plan to fill a space with the sculptures of 12 people who I have a connection with in the blogosphere. More info on the project here.

So far I've got 4 people on board. 1/3 of the way there. If you are interested leave a comment or email me at d_12pair@yahoo.com

Supporting the Arts

On the way to daycare this morning G kept chanting, “I no wanna go. I no wanna go. I no wanna go.” There was no reason for the chanting as he loves it and always runs to join the other kids the second we walk in the door. The sound of his whining was grating on my nerves such that it would have been more pleasant to listen to the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard.

So I resorted to the only thing I could think of……

I started singing a chant right back at him. The first thing that came to mind was the softball chant we used to sing in 5^th grade for the person at bat. I inserted his name and pretended I was back in 5^th grade, sitting on the bench on a warm spring evening, encouraging my teammate.

“Here we go Gee-ee. Here we go! Here we go Gee-eee. Here we go!”

He quieted down and listened for a while as I sang. Then he started to mumble something, so I stopped singing to hear what he was saying. It took me a minute to understand, but then I heard, “Here we go sculpture. Here we go! Here we go sculpture. Here we go!”

One of my sculptures that didn't make it into the show last week was in the back seat with him . And he was cheering it on. I hope he's always this supportive of the arts.

Blogger Portrait project Update: I currently have three people interested in participating in the project, and I’d really like to have twelve. So let me know if you care to join. I’ve described the project here if this is news to you.

Proposition Update

As I mentioned in Friday's post I want to do a series of “Blogger” portraits, (my goal is 12). I plan to fill a space with the sculptures of 12 people who I have some kind of connection with in the blogosphere.

In thinking more about the project I realized that the point is to explore how we choose to represent ourselves in cyberspace. If you'd like to participate, in addition to sending photos of yourself, I've decided to add two new options.

The picture or icon you chose for your profile is called an avatar.

(From Wikipedia)

AVATAR: is a computer user's representation of himself/herself or alter ego, a two-dimensional icon (picture). It is an “object” representing the embodiment of the user. The term "avatar" can also refer to the personality connected with the screen name, or handle, of an Internet user.

Some folks use a personal photo while others, such as myself, prefer to be more anonymous. If you are interested in the project, but do not want to supply photos of yourself, please consider these other options:

1. I can use your current avatar
or
2. An object of your choice

If you are interested please email me with pictures at d_12pair@yahoo.com

Proposition

Last night was the opening of a two person show that I am in at Babson College.

Being at the opening, and talking with people who stopped by, got me thinking………

I’ve been searching for a way to connect what I do here on the blog with what I do in my studio. I am a figurative sculptor, so I need people to sculpt. Up until now, I have either done self-portraits, as a lot of what I needed to say came from my own emotions and experiences, or used family members to model from. I like to model people that I have some kind of connection to, which is where you all come in.

I want to do a series of “Blogger” portraits, (my goal is 12). I plan to fill a space with the sculptures of 12 people who I have a connection with in the blogosphere. The point of the project is to explore how we choose to represent ourselves in cyberspace.

What would be required of you, you ask. Well, initially I would need:

1. Your permission via a signed release form.
   
2. 20 images of you from the waist up - AKA bust or headshot. You should pick one pose, hold the pose and have someone with a camera walk around you taking a shot of every angle. (front view is 12 o'clock, profile view is 3 o'clock, back view is 6 o'clock, other profile view is 9 o'clock and then take the photos in between, too).
3. You should be casually dressed in a natural pose. (How you might look while blogging for example.)
4. Or I can use your current avatar
5. Or an object of your choice.
   

If you chose to send photos, please know that the finished product will have an essence of you. They will not be totally realistic or exact replicas of the pictures you send. Here are some images of my work to give you a better idea of what I do.

If you are interested in participating or have any questions, please email me at d_12pair@yahoo.com

How to take the photos:

1. You should dress casually
2. Sit or stand somewhere with enough room around you for the photographer to be able to walk all the way around you.
3. Hold a natural and comfortable pose. (Decide if you want to be straight faced, smirking, smiling, etc. and hold that expression for the whole time you're being photographed.)
4. Have someone with a camera walk around you taking a photo of every angle. Make sure you're head and shoulders are in the frame. (Front view is 12 o'clock, profile is 3 o'clock, back is 6 o'clock, other profile is 9. Also, ask them to take the photos in between at 1, 2, 4, 5 o'clock etc.)
5. You can also have them take some detail shots of your face, front, 3/4, profile views, etc.
6. This will help me get a better sense of your bone structure and actual features.
7. The finished group of photos will look like a flip book of someone walking around you while you remain still.

Rockin' the tape player

Ahhhhh. The smell of fresh paint. It’s so nice and yet it might be giving me red splotches on my face and a sore throat. But the walls are looking nice.

The past four days have been a blur. G went to my parents for 3 days while we were……….

Stripping wall paper. Patching holes discovered under the paper. Caulking. Priming. Cutting in. Rolling. Cutting in. More rolling.

All the while, listening to our remaining tape collection dating back to ’93. Wow. There are some goodies in that bunch. B hooked up an old Sony Sport Walkman (the yellow one) to our Ipod docking station.

Among the collection:

Jack Wagner (I was addicted to General Hospital from 4^th to 8^th grade)

Kenny Rogers (a family favorite growing up)

Moonboot Lover (UNH college band)

Say ZuZu (UNH college band)

Cake

Natalie Merchant

Sarah Mclachlan

Ani Difranco

Indigo Girls

And, there were so many mixed tapes. Dating from high school to college to our 2002 road trip home from SF. (Even though Cd’s were in full swing in 2002, our ‘97 Ford Taurus still rocked a cassette player).

The height of my mixed tape receiving and making was definitely in college. My friends and I would make them for all kinds of occasions. Birthdays, road trips, end of the year celebrations, no reason at all. And every now and then we would record our conversations. While listening to one of the tapes this weekend, it flipped sides and suddenly we heard voices clamoring and silverware clinking. I didn’t know what we were listening to until B said that sounds like the dinning hall.

Nothing like finding a tape of a dinner conversation between my roommate, her boyfriend and two other friends at the dinning hall, freshman year, to take you back.

Well, it's a start

Getting G dressed in the morning has become a major accomplishment. It usually goes something like this.

Me: G, it’s time to put on some clothes.

G: NO, I wanna stay in pajamas.

Me: But we can’t leave the house until we are both dressed.

G: Later, mamma. Later!

So we wait a few minutes and I try again.

Today, I got his p.j.’s off and he ran out of the room. When he returned he handed me his stuffed kitty and a diaper and said, “Kitty pooped. Kitty pooped. Mama, change his diaper.”

I “changed” kitty’s diaper and G handed me some clothes from the drawer to dress him. When we were finished with kitty, G pulled off his diaper, and ran to the bathroom. I wanna go pee he said, and stood by the big toilet.

I encouraged him to use his potty, and for the first time since we’ve had it, he turned and sat down by himself on the little training toilet. He sat there for about 10 seconds, making the stereotypical Men’s bathroom #2 sounds. We both waited anxiously for something to happen until he sadly announced, “I can’t poop.”

Well, he tried, and that’s a start.

Currently obsessing over

1. Whether to get a sectional or regular couch for our tiny, 14’ x 11’ living room. We REALLY want a sectional. We’d both love to recline while watching a movie and maximize the amount of comfy seating available for guests, but I’m just not sure it will work in the space. A decision needs to be made soon. The second-hand couch gifted to us upon return from San Francisco seven years ago, was great, but has now got to go.
2. Which shade of white to paint the rooms on our first floor? We want one color for all four rooms so each visually flows into the next. There’s Moonlight White, Timid White, Navajo white, sandy white, etc. etc. etc. Too many choices.
3. How to make sculpture in short windows of time. Back in grad school there were limitless hours.
4. What does it mean to be in a liminal space?
5. How to keep students engaged and having fun while challenging/pushing them to take risks, work harder than they thought possible and push beyond their comfort zone.

Things I’m learning from G, #1

# 1: Don’t judge.

I’m a very critical person. I am critical of myself, my friends, my family and strangers. This is not always fair or productive.

G is a very easy going kid. He loves just about everything and everyone. Last night, after trying steak tips for the first time, he declared, "I love steak." Though he’s not a huge fan of lima beans, he’ll eat almost anything else as long as you put “special” sauce on it. He does not judge and does not form prejudices based on appearance.

This morning I was getting G ready for school. He had his shirt and socks on, but remained adamant about not wanting to wear pants. We went through three different options that I was happy with, to no avail.

Finally, he found a pair of ratty, hand-me-down sweatpants in the pile of clean, yet still unfolded laundry. I have nothing against hand-me-downs, in fact most of G’s clothes are such, and I love it since he outgrows everything so quickly. But these were sweatpants and they were quite pilly. He only goes to school two days a week and I like him to look somewhat put together.

Again, I’m a bit critical.

So, I tried to convince him why those pants were not suitable for outside wear. I even told him the story of Andy Benedictus, the kid in gym class who wore sweatpants every day. It was not pretty. Since then I don’t like seeing men in sweatpants. I know G is just a toddler, but still.

After our discussion, he looked up at me and said, “Mama, these are nice.”

And you know what, G.

If you really like them, then I guess they are nice.

Knowing what's good for us

When I go for a run or plan to spend time in the studio, there is usually a last minute pang of doubt. Do I really want to do this? I’m too tired, I’ll think. Or it’s just so cold out. I should tackle the laundry. Or call so-and-so back.

But the second I get warmed up and settle in to my pace, I love it. Especially the part when I finish, and I get to experience that flushed warm body sensation and adrenaline rush of accomplishment. And eat a huge meal, because I need to refuel.

Then it is all worth it. I know that the struggle makes me appreciate the reward.

Yesterday, while attempting to put G down for his nap, he fought it.

“No. I no wanna take a nap,” he said, over and over and over again.

It was a little early, only 11am but he had been rubbing his eyes and sucking his thumb. So, I backed down from pushing the nap and offered him a light lunch. He ate everything, and still, “No nap, Mama. No.”

So we read some books and talked a while.

Then I told him I was going to give him a hug. He thought that was a good idea, so I picked him up and immediately he fell limp in my arms.

We slowly walked upstairs and as he felt the blankets of his crib, he whispered, “Thank you Mama. Thank you.”

I smiled and said, “You’re welcome.”

4-letter words

I have always enjoyed a well timed four-letter word.

As the oldest of three girls in a pretty conservative family, swearing was never part of our upbringing. My parents took their job of raising three polite, “respectable” women VERY seriously. The only time I heard my mother swear, which was rare and practically inaudible, was if she hurt herself or was trying to meet a deadline. And I honestly don’t remember hearing my father swear until I was in college.

Discovering the combination of four-letter words and sarcasm proved a great source of entertainment. My sisters and I had fun covertly slipping inappropriate words into everyday conversation, to see who could be the most witty or shocking.

It seems G has taken after his mother.

Last week we were driving through the parking lot at a local Stop ‘n’ Shop. When a food scrounging seagull flew by the car, G excitedly stated, “Look Mama. Sea-COCK! Sea-COCK!”

If I had just taken a sip of water, it would’ve been all over my shirt.

Through a wide grin, I attempted to correct him by saying, “No sweetie. That bird is called a seagull.”

To which he responded, “Seagull COCK. Seagull COCK.”

I guess he thinks "inappropriate" words are funny too.

I need a minute

Just a minute, to catch my breath.

Workshop & Artist Talk: Done & Delivered
House: Trashed
Body: Exhausted
Mind: Still reeling from the frenetic energy required to prepare and deliver.
Reality: Another artist talk & exhibition in two weeks.
Truth: I wouldn't want it any other way.

But why do deadlines always come in clusters?