Another unpotty-trained male for the house

Meet Harvey Pinkwater Addington.
The story of how this 7-week-old lab-spaniel mix suddenly found his way into our home and hearts is coming soon.

Walk to the beat

Today Will and Owen and I were all seat-belted in the car, ready to go to a performance by percussion band Ritmo Blu – part of the Wonderful Wednesdays program at the Columbus Museum. But then the car wouldn’t start and Will and I were feeling simultaneously bummed. I looked back at Will and said, “Well if you want to go in the stroller, we can probably make the 10:30 show.”

He was excited and Owen was ready to see some drums too. So we launched off on our cross-town adventure with the jogging stroller, and some snacks and water. Will and Owen stayed reasonably cool under the shade of the stroller awnings and I didn’t start sweating like a pig until the midday return trip in the humid 85-degree heat. All in all, though, we loved our adventure. We got to hear percussion instruments from around the world -- and Ritmo Blu, with headman Dave Holland, are great at making music accessible to kids. I don’t remember ever going to a show where performers were so effective at getting the audience to dance in our seats.

And I liked the excuse to go on a long hike with the double stroller, especially since Will was happy to climb out and hike behind me on the steep hill leading to Wynnton road. I have half a mind to petition the city to create a semi-pedestrian friendly crossing at that crazy triangular intersection where Buena Vista and Wynnton roads meet. But since I may never again motivate to walk to the museum once my car’s working, I probably won’t bother. Still, wouldn’t it be nice to make a great midtown kid’s spot like The Columbus Museum easily accessible by stroller?

Back at home, Will made some percussion instruments for Owen’s birthday while Owen napped. So far Will's painted an oatmeal container drum and a begun work on a rain stick. Here are some ideas for music instrument crafts: “A to Z Kids Stuff” and “Preschool Percussion” (I'd like to try to bottle cap xylophone here, but we need to collect some bottle caps first.)

My quest for purposelessness

Today I cleaned the kitchen and made a lasagna while listening to this “Play, Spirit & Character” podcast of an interview with Stuart Brown, physician and director of the National Institute for Play. I’d been lured in after hearing a snippet of the interview last night on the radio program “Speaking of Faith.” Brown was discussing the importance of play – and even violent play in teaching children empathy. (He notes that all the murderers he has studied were deprived of rough-and-tumble play experience as children, and he describes how children learn that they shouldn't hit too hard after experiencing what it feels like to be hit hard themselves.) This sort of information always reassures me since I’m often pretending not to hear as Will and his playmates pretend to fight and kill each other in what seems to be very mutually enjoyable play.

So I went in listening as a mother and preschool teacher who is already sold on the importance of fostering lots of free play experience for my children. But soon I was thinking about adult play – and how sometimes as a mother I forget to play enough. (Brown's short definition of play is "pleasurable, apparently purposeless activity.") I’d been in my usual day-after-vacation funk, fighting a faint altitude headache and only beginning to conquer all of the piles of laundry and unmade dinners and dirty dishes that await me every day here. In Colorado (where my mother does almost all of the cooking and cleaning) I’d been enjoying hiking, swimming, nightly games of scrabble, backyard badminton, extra time for reading and, well, a lot more extra playtime than I’m used to. And here was Dr. Brown pointing out to me that play is a necessary ingredient for our spiritual/physical/intellectual well being as adults -- regardless of whether we’re on vacation or not. He counts reading and hiking as play too --- anything we can get lost in and enjoy. It's all obvious enough, of course, but sometimes I need to hear an intelligent person talk for 45 minutes on a topic before I remember to apply a basic principle to myself.

So I’m taking a post-vacation vow to make more time for play, even if it means just carving out more space for nighttime reading and taking more time to enjoy free time with Will and Owen -- even at the expense of neglecting some already neglected household chores.

If you’ve got time, listen to the interview. And if you don’t, still take two minutes to view this video (also on the Speaking of Faith web site) of a polar bear playing with huskies. It’s beautiful -- and a good reminder of just how primal our need for play is.

Snapshots from the mountains

A few scenes from our weekend in the Colorado outdoors:

playing in the creek with Grammy and Grandpa, while Rob and Uncle Graham and I snuck in a canyon hike with Owen.
dandelion blowing...

and rock climbing during an evening picnic in the mountains

and running from monsters in Grammy and Grandpa's backyard:

Notes from the road

We've logged 2,163 miles from Columbus to Austin to Colorado. It made for four fairly big days in the car, thankfully divided by the couple days we enjoyed in Austin with old college friends and their kids.

Will and Owen are pretty happy travelers. But occasionally Will offers up a minor complaint, as in: "If I don't get out now, I'm going to die!"

This is when I motivate to leave my roomy front seat and slide between the boys' car seats in the back so we can read books together or I can hold a mini basketball hoop while Will and Owen take turns shooting baskets.

We've also been known to stuff whining mouths with lollipops, ice cream, fruit roll-ups and chewing gum -- with the clear understanding that these are road trip treats. And since we do much of our eating in the car so that all stopping time is spent running around stretching legs and exploring visitor centers or fast food playgrounds -- Owen's car seat is covered with food residue.

Will and Rob have worked on some collaborative landscapes in crayon -- their latest masterpiece featured cows, horses, mesas and a train as seen through the car window in New Mexico. Will has also enjoyed listening to some books on CD. Our mutual favorite this trip is Daniel Pinkwater's "The Hoboken Chicken Emergency."

Odes to Dads -- add one from your kids!

We’ll be slipping this list of things Will loves to do with his dad into Rob’s father’s day card (and since we’re embarking on a mega road trip today, he won’t read it here first). If you have time, collect your own “ode to dad” list from your kids – use it as an added touch in your father’s day cards -- and please post it here with your children's first names and ages if you’re willing to share. I would love to have a collection of father’s day odes. (Some of my mom friends have e-mailed me directly so you'll see some of their children's odes posted by me.)


Things I Like to Do With Daddy
By Will, 4 (with interjections from Owen, 23 months – in italics)

I like to play with him – football and basketball.
I like to build stuff with him – castles and towers in the sand.
I like to make stuff with him – paintings to go in my room.
I like giving surprises to him – like cleaning up the house and cleaning up all the balls and Legos.
I like to color with him.
I like him making my cereal.
I like him making my oatmeal.
I like going outside and playing with him. He pushes me on the swing and plays soccer and he blows bubbles.
I like playing with Owen and Daddy and me. We play race cars and we play blocks together and we play monsters.
I play with Daddy, me, Will.
I like playing hide and seek.
I like to hop on top of Pop.
Hop on Pop, Mommy.
We like dancing to the music.
I want dance music.
I like playing with him in the water.
I like playing harmonica while daddy plays guitar.
I like him reading to me and tucking me into bed so I can go to sleep.

Changing table talk

Mom: “Wooh. I’ve changed 3 poopy diapers from Owen today.”

Owen: “Change Will diaper too?”

Mom: “No Will learned to go poop on the potty right about the time you were born, Owen, so I don’t have to change his diaper anymore.”

Owen: “I born, mommy? I born?”

Mom: “Yes, you were born. Good thing too, because we like having you around.”

Owen: "Oh."

Will: (Who frequently sits on our bed observing diaper changes): “Yeah, good thing we didn’t born just one brother, because that wouldn’t be any fun at all. One brother wouldn’t have someone to play with all day and he wouldn’t get to sleep in the same bedroom together forever.”