Naked News

April 14, 2013

August’s preschool is a little like “Lord of the Flies”.  Scratch that, it’s a lot like “Lord of the Flies”.  When we pick up our kids at the preschool gate, we never know we’ll find.  To be honest, I’m always excited to see how the kids have changed themselves in the short three hours that they’re there.  

They often use their clothes as a paint palette, and glitter to accessorize.  Sometimes kids will come out with water dripping from their hair and a bag of soggy clothes dragging behind them.  And every now and again, but very rarely they will come out looking exactly as you left them.  If they do come out looking exactly the same, be concerned because they may have had a “thumbs down” sort of day.

Luckily it’s a co-op, which means I work at his school once a week, and I know that all these things are to be expected for our preschool.  In fact when I was contemplating which preschool to send August to, a mother (from an online mom’s group) suggested we might not want to attend this preschool because they let the children run around naked! (Say it isn’t so.) 

Naked?!  At a preschool?  That’s awesome!  Sign us up!  And we did. As it turns out, being naked at this school is so popular that they created a special time when everyone has to have their clothes back on. “Shoes, Socks and Clothing time” happens at exactly 3:00pm every day.  This is the time at which boys and girls get to choose what clothing they put back on.  It can be their extra clothes that remains in their cubbies, the clean stock of girls clothing in the bathroom, the clean stock of boys clothing in the bathroom, or the clothes they wore to school (NEVER happens!).  My personal favorite was one day I saw a boy go in to school wearing jeans, a baseball t-shirt, socks and sneakers (very boy like) .  After three hours of preschool, he came out wearing a yellow sundress, girls panties, pink nail polish, black sneakers, slightly damp hair, and a bag of wet clothes in hand. That, my friends, is a two thumbs up day at preschool.

Not August, though.  Seven months in to our first year, and we were still waiting for him to shed his clothes.  Every week I watched the cute little bottoms of other preschool girls and boys enjoying their freedom and wondered when August might partake.  At some point I thought to myself, “Maybe he just doesn’t notice the other kids taking off their clothes and running around naked?”

Until this week when we had an unusually warm day in San Francisco (Don’t get any crazy ideas, it was only seventy degrees, but it felt like a heat wave to us!).  Since August has very fair skin I told him he was going to need some sunscreen before going to school.  I had to prepare him for this in advance because he hates sunscreen.  I decided I would only torture him with his arms, neck, ears and face.  

But when I started putting the sunscreen on his arms, he looked up at me and said, “Hey Mom, let’s do this all over!”

“Really?”

“Yes. It feels nice.”

Umm, okay, you don’t have to ask me twice.  So he preceded to dictate where to apply sunscreen.  

“Thighs. Knees.  Ankles. Chest. Tummy.  Back.  Elbows. Feet.  Butt, please Mom.”

Once we were done he said, “I’ve been DYING for you to do this.  Now I can take my clothes off at school!”

Huh?  That’s what he’s been waiting for?  Sunscreen that usually I need to tie him down for?  Anyhow, I smiled, and wondered if this really meant what I thought it meant.  I admit I was a bit nervous about him getting naked.  I don’t know why, but I was.

Gate time arrived, and I stood in line waiting to pick him up wondering what state I would find him in.  He walked out, with a big grin on his face wearing his spare clothes from his cubby and said, “Mom, I was naked today!”

He did it!  He had his coming out party.  The hazing was over, and he was finally a part of the group.  I was so proud.  And he told me he had a two thumbs up kind of day.  Of course, all of this left me jealous and wondering “How was it?  Was it scary to take your clothes off?  Were you cold? Did any of the other regulars notice that this was your first time?”  

I found myself bragging to all the moms, dads, and even the Director of the school about August’s first naked day.  There were high-fives all around.  

The only question I wasn’t still contemplating by the end of the day was  ”Will you do it again?”  Pretty sure that’s a resounding “YES!”

Bunny

January 11, 2013

For the past three plus years of August’s life he’s been sleeping with two animals every night and for every nap:  Zebra and Bunny (he gave them those names, he’s a genius, I know).  Zebra and Bunny are not only well loved, but also well traveled.  They have been to New York City, Philadelphia, Washington DC, Dallas, Los Angeles, and Hawaii.  Brent and I have come to love Zebra and Bunny just as much, if not more, than August.  

In the morning when August wakes up, Zebra and Bunny come into our room with him.  When August can’t fall asleep at night, he tells Zebra and Bunny about his day.  Sometimes Zebra and Bunny join us at the table for dinner.  And when August is needing an extra squeeze at night, it’s Zebra and Bunny to the rescue.  

About two, maybe three months ago, Cow-y (name also provided by August) entered the picture.  It was out of nowhere.  One night as August was crawling into bed he asked to have Cow-y join him.  I was a little hesitant because I was afraid this request would snowball – first it’s Cow-y, then it’s Bear-y, then it’s Teddy, and the next thing we know there’s no room for August in his own bed.  But I allowed it.  So now it was Zebra, Bunny and Cow-y.  

Last week August told me that he didn’t want Bunny in his bed.  I was concerned that once I left the room he would regret his decision so I said “Okay, but if you change your mind Bunny is right here on the floor next to you.” In the morning, Bunny was still on the floor.  I was a little surprised but assumed this would be just a one night thing.  It wasn’t.  

I began to feel sorry for Bunny, so I didn’t give up.  Every night I still gave him Zebra, Bunny and Cow-y. But now today at nap time August said, “Mommy, I don’t need Bunny, I have Cow-y now.  How did Cow-y get his name again?”

“You named him.”

“How did I name him?”

“You made it up?”

“How?”

“I don’t know how you did it. Only you know that.”

“Oh”, and he rolled over and went to sleep.  Leaving me to silently mourn the loss of Bunny.  I guess when I look back, I should have known this was coming.  Zebra has always been the prodigal son, not Bunny.  What I didn’t see coming was the possibility of a trade.  

I have discovered through this whole Cow-y/Bunny thing that I am more attached to his stuffed animals than he is. I guess when you grow up a child who only added to their bedtime animal collection rather than subtracting, it is to be expected.  

So here’s to you Bunny.  Just know that I’ll always love you.

Mushroom Cream Sauce

December 11, 2012

I think I’m doing something wrong.  Last night I made August penne with a Brisket Ragu sauce (using leftover brisket from our first night of Hanukkah).  Tonight we get home from preschool, and he asks me what I’m making him for dinner (for some reason this is often the topic of conversation amongst him and his preschool teachers).

I replied with “I thought we’d have some of that Brisket Ragu I made you yesterday.”

“No, I don’t want that.  Want else can I have?” he states quite emphatically with authority.

So I peeked in the refrigerator to determine if there is anything I can quickly whip up for him without too much effort. I spy some mushrooms and broccoli and realize I might be able to create something for him in very little time.

“Yeah, I think I can whip something up for you.” I tell him confidently.  He buys my story, and begins to play trains happily while I proceed with dinner.  In fifteen minutes flat, I made him a plate of penne topped with a beautiful Creamy Mushroom Sauce, just a hint of sherry, and a few pieces of broccoli for good measure.

I was clever in that I chopped the mushrooms up incredibly small so he wouldn’t pick out the mushrooms.  Because August, like any other three-year-old won’t choose to eat vegetables, you have to trick them into it. My trick worked like a charm, but my question is in what world does a kid get to choose between Brisket Ragu and Creamy Mushroom and Sherry sauce?

I need to set the bar a bit lower, or I’m going to be in trouble.  But on a lighter note, I’m quite proud at how quickly I threw that all together.  He ate the whole thing, broccoli and all.

Seeing My Mother

October 13, 2012

It’s a frightening thought – becoming one’s parents.  But it happens, and I can now understand why and how it happens.  We all do it.  We say, “Nope.  I’m going to be different.  I’m going to raise my children differently.  I’m never going to do THAT.”  But in the end we all do what we can to get by in life. Sometimes that means doing what we know best.  Or in this case, doing what we grew up knowing.

My mother counted.  ”Jennifer, I’m going to count to three, and if you haven’t put your shoes on by then, we’re not going to..”  you fill in the blank.  I swore I would never do this.  But guess what.  Every day a bit of counting goes on at our house.  I fought the urge to count for a LONG time, then one day I heard Brent do it, and it worked for him.  So now, I too have started counting.  And I don’t even like numbers anymore (after being a Math major, that can happen).

I also swore I would be more flexible and not so set in my ways.  And I like to think that I am.  But man, on my bad days I really see the Mom in me come out.  We have a guest at our house this weekend.  Yesterday morning I got up, put on my robe, like every morning, went to the bathroom, like every morning, said “Good Morning” to August, like every morning, and went to get my cup of coffee in my favorite mug like every morning.  But not this morning.  Our guest had hand selected, without knowing it, my mug. Most people would probably just shrug it off.  Me?  I was glaring at my mug the whole morning.

There have also been a few things out-of-place, since our guest arrived.  I found the sponge in the sink, rather than in the sponge holder.  When I took a shower the other day, there was a wet washcloth hanging on August’s bath toys.  The pillows on the couch had been rearranged.  And there’s a strange perfume smell in the air. In my defense we live in a 1,000 square foot apartment.  So when something is different, it’s quite noticeable.  The funny thing is that the blow-up bed in the middle of our living room really isn’t bothering me – go figure.  Anyhow, all these things seem like things that would bother my mom.

Surely by now I’ve convinced you that I’m some sort of anal retentive person, but I swear to God I’m not.  I’m just a little bit me, and a little bit my mom from time to time.  She’s the anal retentive one, not me.  Or at least, that’s what I tell myself when I see someone happily sipping coffee from MY mug. But I like to believe I turned out okay, and so will August.

I Need Your Help!

September 27, 2012

I’m going to attempt to enter a contest with one of my favorite, and popular, mom-bloggers.  She is asking other writing parents to submit their best stories, and she will post them on her website!  Please vote below for what your favorite story of mine is.  If you don’t see yours below, feel free to send your comments with other favorites I may have missed.  My submission has to be by Sunday, October 1st.

To help, here is a link to each story mentioned in the poll below. (In no particular order)

1.  Poop and Splinters

2.  Used Beemer

3.  Because I Told You So

4.  I Love the Trees

Thanks for your help!

Breaking out of jail

September 26, 2012

August is a talker, always has been, and I suppose at this point it’s fair to assume, always will be.  To be fair, Brent and I are talkers, and he comes from a long line of other talkers in our families; so when you think about it, he was bound to be a talker.  When he was less than a year old, we would take him into our bed on mornings when he woke up before 6am.  Every morning he would do what he called Filibustering.  He wasn’t talking, but he would babble on and on and on.  I swear he could go for an hour, only stopping for a breath here and there.

Not much has changed now that he is talking.  He talks non stop from the moment he wakes up until the moment he goes to sleep.  Sometimes it gets a little tiring, but most of the time I love it.  It does tend to get in the way of him falling asleep at night or taking a nap.  So when he gets to gibbering too much, we will go into his room and ask him to speak more quietly.  We have found that the more quietly he speaks to himself, the more likely he is to fall asleep.  And sometimes, after we’ve warned him several times, we have to bring out the threats.  The usual threat is closing the door (he likes it slightly ajar).

During nap time today, I warned him several times to be more quiet, but he wouldn’t listen.  I felt like the threat of the door had gotten old, so I decided to take another approach.

“August, if you can be quiet for the last bit of your nap, I’ll give you five stickers for your sticker board.”

“Okay, Mommy.  I can do that.  I’ll be quiet, but how about three stickers?” (He hasn’t grasped the fact that five is more than three, I guess.)

“Sounds good.  If you can be quiet, then you can have three stickers when you get up.”

Fifteen minutes go by, and he’s chattering away, and laughing out loud to himself.  I go into his room, he’s standing up, sleep sack off, and the curtain is now draped over his bed instead of laying flat to the ground.

“Okay, August, lie down, and no stickers when you get up.” And I leave.  He freaks out.  Literally, he’s screaming his head off, “Mommy, I will be quiet, Mommy I will be quiet…” at the top of his lungs.  Brent finds this hilarious when he does it.  He’s right, the irony is pretty rich.

I chose to ignore his screaming, and lay on the couch with a pillow over my ears.  The next thing I hear is…

“I’m getting out, Mommy.  I’m getting out, Mommy.” Creak, thump, thump.

“What was that,” I wonder.  I hear his door open, and he goes running towards my room, and then turns around and finds me on the couch.

“Mommy, I will be quiet,” he says to me with tears streaming down his face.  Oh, and did I forget to mention that August is still in a crib.  Yep, that’s right, it happened.  I didn’t think it could with the Stokke Crib (I mean, really, look at this thing.  It’s impossible to climb out of), but guess what designers, this three-year-old figured out a way.

“How did you do that,” I asked.

“Do what,” as if it’s nothing.

“Get out of your crib. Come show me.”

I follow him back to his crib, and he shows me how he flings one leg over the side, and uses the slightly wider bar to catapult himself over.  Dammit.  We will have to take one side off his crib, and he’ll have free access to the real world.  We have lost our control.

And the real fun begins.  Now he’ll be able to get up in the middle of the night for the toilet.  He’ll be able to come get us in the morning when he wakes up at some un-godly hour.  He’ll be able to play with every toy possible in his room during nap time.  If he wants milk at 3am, now he’ll be able to come in and ask for it.

Guess he’s growing up.

Do’s and Don’ts

August 30, 2012

My son is now attending a co-op preschool.  What this means, among other things, is that I get to work there once a week.  Every week I get a sneak peek into my son’s new life.  I get to meet the parents, teachers, and the other students.  It’s exhausting, but fun.  As a parent, though, there are rules.  There very specific ways you handle certain situations, things you absolutely don’t say, and things you can and can’t do.  As an example, no talking on your cell phone or texting the whole three hours you’re there, unless you are on a break.  Great!  I hate cell phones anyhow.  (With each passing day, I hate them more and more.  In fact, maybe I should just throw mine away.  But I digress.)  When children are fighting over a toy, instead of reprimanding the children, you try to work it out with them calmly.   Read the rest of this entry »

Little Ears are Listening

August 29, 2012

I’m often dumbfounded by the amount of parents who will badmouth their own children in front of their children.  I assume that the reason they do it is because they forget that their children now understand our language.  Or maybe they think they are not listening or paying attention?  Not sure what the reason is, but it sure seems pretty stupid to me.  Let me give you an example.   Read the rest of this entry »

“What did you do today?”

August 27, 2012

Last week was our first week of preschool.  Currently we’re only going three days a week in the hopes of squeezing in a few naps here and there (it’s an afternoon program).  Two of the three days, August goes to preschool without me.  The other day, I’m there with him because it’s a co-op program, so I have to work one day a week.  Last week went surprisingly well.  I found the work day fun, and pretty easy.  The two days August had without me he did just fine – no tears or anything.  Plus when I came to pick him up he had a smile on his face and a mom can’t ask for much more than that.  In fact the first day he had by himself I asked him what he did and he told me he played with trains.  Then he asked what I did and I said, “I ran a few errands, and thought of you.”  He replied with, “I thought about you the whole time you were gone.”  Cute. Read the rest of this entry »

I Love You

August 20, 2012

This afternoon we’re (August and I, of course) are sitting at the table eating lunch.  We’re talking about the cars outside, he’s waxing poetic about “Frog and Toad” by Arnold Lobel, and we’re discussing the fact that “Since it’s foggy outside, today is a good day for Chicken Pot Pie.”  Although for August, every day is a good day for Chicken Pot Pie.  I rue the day I made up a story for him about a rabbit eating Chicken Pot Pie on a foggy day.  (Okay, so maybe not “rue”, but I do have my moments when I wish I had never told him that story.  Not a day goes by without him asking for it.).  But I digress… Read the rest of this entry »


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