KISS Day had finally arrived (Kids Invite Someone Special) and Gianna was thrilled to have Poppa Carl spend the morning at her school. The entire first grade had a program prepared and she had been working on a book for her guest of honor all week. I couldn't wait for her to come home and tell me all about the special memories she had made with her grandfather.
Later that day Gianna told me all about the fun activities they participated in. I was happy to hear she remembered which homemade muffins I contributed and had shared one with my dad. She was proud to introduce Poppa Carl to her teacher and show him her classroom. I read the heartfelt entries in the book she created for him and knew it was something he'd treasure forever. I like when "Poppa scweses (squeezes) me wale he hugs me". "Hide and seke and reading" are things we do together. Something that makes him happy is "when he comes home I jump out and he picks me up and twirls me around". I smiled remembering that was exactly what he did with me when I was a little girl. Gianna then told me that her teacher read an excerpt from her book to the entire group, and I wondered which one of those precious entries the teacher chose to share. Gianna told me it was the last page of her book and I turned the pages to the entry I somehow had missed. It read "Poppa" is funniest when "he brps out loud and my Grandma gets mad. She says 'Carl don't tech the kids things like that'."
Friday, March 30, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Calling all parents of little ones...this blog's for you!
Life According to Laney: It's Not All ABCs and 123s: I started researching preschool options for my first born well in advance. A friend of mine was so impressed with my thorough checklis...
It's Not All ABCs and 123s
I started researching preschool options for my first born well in advance. A friend of mine was so impressed with my thorough checklist and comprehensive file that she told me she'd send her daughter wherever I decided to send mine. The school I found was a perfect fit. It was accredited by the National Association for the Education of Young Children, utilized a developmentally appropriate play-based curriculum, implemented the security features that I felt to be of utmost importance, and was located in a church with prayer before snack, celebration of Christian holidays, and monthly story time with the Reverend. My daughter thrived at this school, and when it came time I enrolled her younger brother.
Tony was the opposite of his sister. He liked preschool well enough, but instead of the detailed accounts that I got from her I was told that he "forgetted" what he did, what he read, and even what he ate. All of my teacher education training told me not to push him, so I waited it out. I pored over the class bulletin board, viewed the art work in the hallway, and daydreamed about the big breakthrough when he would be ready to talk about his day. Would he bring home a precious piece of art and describe it in detail? Maybe he would come home one day and proudly write his name using mostly lower case letters. Perhaps he would retell me his favorite tale from story-time or sing me a song.
After much anticipation, the big day came. When I arrived to pick up Tony, he looked as if he might burst with excitement. "Guessa what Mama? Guessa what? I learn-ed sumpin' new today. Do you wanna know what it is?" Did I want to know?? I had been waiting for this day for weeks. I knelt down to his level, looked him in the eyes, and prepared myself for the precious memory that I would rush home to write about in his baby book. And then he said "I learn-ed that Nicholas's butt stinks too, just like mine. He tolded me. Isn't that great?!"
Tony was the opposite of his sister. He liked preschool well enough, but instead of the detailed accounts that I got from her I was told that he "forgetted" what he did, what he read, and even what he ate. All of my teacher education training told me not to push him, so I waited it out. I pored over the class bulletin board, viewed the art work in the hallway, and daydreamed about the big breakthrough when he would be ready to talk about his day. Would he bring home a precious piece of art and describe it in detail? Maybe he would come home one day and proudly write his name using mostly lower case letters. Perhaps he would retell me his favorite tale from story-time or sing me a song.
After much anticipation, the big day came. When I arrived to pick up Tony, he looked as if he might burst with excitement. "Guessa what Mama? Guessa what? I learn-ed sumpin' new today. Do you wanna know what it is?" Did I want to know?? I had been waiting for this day for weeks. I knelt down to his level, looked him in the eyes, and prepared myself for the precious memory that I would rush home to write about in his baby book. And then he said "I learn-ed that Nicholas's butt stinks too, just like mine. He tolded me. Isn't that great?!"
Friday, March 16, 2012
Hello, My Name Is...
Three days old, and our baby boy was without a name. "How's Michael Anthony Dominic Joseph Vincent Vito this morning?" became my room attendant's way to greet us. "Girl, you're goin' home tomorrow," she told me on day two, "and baby boy still ain't got no name." The woman with the social security paperwork left each day, shaking her head. "Does my grandson have a name YET?" my mother asked every time we spoke. Even the card labeled "Baby Boy Pinciaro" on his bassinet seemed to mock my indecisiveness. What kind of mother can't name her child? When big sister Gianna came to visit and said "Hi baby Tony" a decision was made. We announced that his name was Anthony Vito as family, friends, and hospital staff breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Fast forward several years and it was time for Tony to start preschool. That Sunday, he was moved up to the three year old room for Sunday School as well. A few days later he came to me and said "Mama, who's Anthony? I have his name tag and his folder. My teachers at school and at church keep calling me that. I keep tellin' them I don't know he." And the question now became what kind of mother doesn't tell her child the name she finally decided upon?
It took a while, but Tony was finally convinced that he and Anthony were one and the same. The damage, however, was done. Whenever he meets someone new he nods and says, "Okay John. But what's your REAL name? You know. The one your Mama forgot to tell you about."
Fast forward several years and it was time for Tony to start preschool. That Sunday, he was moved up to the three year old room for Sunday School as well. A few days later he came to me and said "Mama, who's Anthony? I have his name tag and his folder. My teachers at school and at church keep calling me that. I keep tellin' them I don't know he." And the question now became what kind of mother doesn't tell her child the name she finally decided upon?
It took a while, but Tony was finally convinced that he and Anthony were one and the same. The damage, however, was done. Whenever he meets someone new he nods and says, "Okay John. But what's your REAL name? You know. The one your Mama forgot to tell you about."
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Spilling the Beans
Until a few months ago, I had never heard of a Keurig. As a proud owner of a 12 cup Mr. Coffee, my grounds come in bulk and my loyalty vacillates between Folgers and Maxwell House depending upon which is on sale. What did not escape me, however, was that everyone seemed to be talking about K-cups. "Once you try one, you'll never go back to the old way", "It allows for spontaneity and variety", and "I'm telling all my friends about them" were a few of the comments I heard which led to my now defunct belief that a K-cup was a new form of birth control. It seemed that folks were talking about these cups EVERYWHERE and I found it shocking and somewhat scandalous that something so personal was being discussed so publicly.
It was at a family friend's house that I finally learned the truth. Over brunch, the host asked if Joe and I had ever tried a K-cup. I had no idea how to respond to this and was standing there with my mouth agape as he continued, "My wife and I love them and even at our age, we made the switch." "At our age?" I wondered, weren't they past the age where one has to worry about needing such things? "You really need to try it", he pressured, as I felt the hives creeping up my neck. "Our daughter and son-in-law got us hooked." That was definitely more than I ever wanted to know, and as I was gearing up to bolt he finished with "We have flavored creamer, but you may want to use plain milk and sugar the first time so that the true flavor of the coffee comes through." Wait. Did he say COFFEE? He led me, dumbfounded, to a variety of individual cups of flavored coffee and introduced me to his Keurig machine. I watched in awe as it worked it's magic, and as I enjoyed my first mug of coffee from a K-cup I realized exactly what all the hype was about.
Shortly after I became in the know about these little cups of bliss, I was at a friend's bridal shower. When she opened a Keurig and a large assortment of K-cups that a group of church ladies had chipped in to buy, I started to giggle. When one of those white-haired ladies suggested that these cups changed her life, I began to howl. By the time my friend's future mother-in-law mentioned how much her son will enjoy them, I had tears streaming down my face (quite unbecoming for a bridal attendant at a quaint tea house). These K-cups were not for the bride and groom on their wedding night, but to be enjoyed the morning after.
It was at a family friend's house that I finally learned the truth. Over brunch, the host asked if Joe and I had ever tried a K-cup. I had no idea how to respond to this and was standing there with my mouth agape as he continued, "My wife and I love them and even at our age, we made the switch." "At our age?" I wondered, weren't they past the age where one has to worry about needing such things? "You really need to try it", he pressured, as I felt the hives creeping up my neck. "Our daughter and son-in-law got us hooked." That was definitely more than I ever wanted to know, and as I was gearing up to bolt he finished with "We have flavored creamer, but you may want to use plain milk and sugar the first time so that the true flavor of the coffee comes through." Wait. Did he say COFFEE? He led me, dumbfounded, to a variety of individual cups of flavored coffee and introduced me to his Keurig machine. I watched in awe as it worked it's magic, and as I enjoyed my first mug of coffee from a K-cup I realized exactly what all the hype was about.
Shortly after I became in the know about these little cups of bliss, I was at a friend's bridal shower. When she opened a Keurig and a large assortment of K-cups that a group of church ladies had chipped in to buy, I started to giggle. When one of those white-haired ladies suggested that these cups changed her life, I began to howl. By the time my friend's future mother-in-law mentioned how much her son will enjoy them, I had tears streaming down my face (quite unbecoming for a bridal attendant at a quaint tea house). These K-cups were not for the bride and groom on their wedding night, but to be enjoyed the morning after.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Two's Company But Three's A Crowd?
Shortly after we were married, it began. By "it" I am referring to the push for a baby. My mother reminded me that she was past the ideal age to become a grandmother, friends joked that we could leave on our honeymoon as a couple and come home as a family, and my great-aunt eyed my still-flat stomach suspiciously when we came home that first Christmas without any baby news.
Our announcement several years later that we were expecting was met with proclamations such as "I can finally BUY things in the baby department" (my mother), "It'll be so much fun to be pregnant together" (my best friend), and "It's about time, I was starting to get worried" (if you haven't guessed, that was my aunt). Before baby #1 had started solids, the barrage of questions regarding when she was going to become a big sister began. A little over a year later, we were expecting baby #2. News of his impending arrival was also met with great jubilation and tears of joy.
Once we had both a boy and a girl the assumption around town was that our baby making days were over. "How nice", folks would say, "you got one of each after only two tries" as if having two or more children of the same sex was somehow less than ideal. When we made the announcement that we were expecting baby #3 we received much different responses including "Are you kidding?" (my brother-in-law), "You better go get a second job" (my father-in-law to my husband), "You two just don't quit" (my best friend's opinionated mother-in-law), and my personal favorite "This IS going to be it, right?" from the nosy neighborhood grocery store cashier. Many people thought this pregnancy had to be a complete surprise to us, including my father who reminded us on more than one occasion that vasectomies were both common and very safe.
When our baby boy was born, everyone was thrilled of course, except maybe the cashier. My first time at the store with all three kids was met with a wary eye and a comment of "I don't know where you're going to put the groceries. Your buggy is already full."
While I am (fairly) certain that our family is complete, only God knows for sure. I am prepared, however, with the perfect response next time someone implies that three kids is more than enough With a straight face I'm going to say "Actually, I'm expecting. We're hoping for twins."
Our announcement several years later that we were expecting was met with proclamations such as "I can finally BUY things in the baby department" (my mother), "It'll be so much fun to be pregnant together" (my best friend), and "It's about time, I was starting to get worried" (if you haven't guessed, that was my aunt). Before baby #1 had started solids, the barrage of questions regarding when she was going to become a big sister began. A little over a year later, we were expecting baby #2. News of his impending arrival was also met with great jubilation and tears of joy.
Once we had both a boy and a girl the assumption around town was that our baby making days were over. "How nice", folks would say, "you got one of each after only two tries" as if having two or more children of the same sex was somehow less than ideal. When we made the announcement that we were expecting baby #3 we received much different responses including "Are you kidding?" (my brother-in-law), "You better go get a second job" (my father-in-law to my husband), "You two just don't quit" (my best friend's opinionated mother-in-law), and my personal favorite "This IS going to be it, right?" from the nosy neighborhood grocery store cashier. Many people thought this pregnancy had to be a complete surprise to us, including my father who reminded us on more than one occasion that vasectomies were both common and very safe.
When our baby boy was born, everyone was thrilled of course, except maybe the cashier. My first time at the store with all three kids was met with a wary eye and a comment of "I don't know where you're going to put the groceries. Your buggy is already full."
While I am (fairly) certain that our family is complete, only God knows for sure. I am prepared, however, with the perfect response next time someone implies that three kids is more than enough With a straight face I'm going to say "Actually, I'm expecting. We're hoping for twins."
Friday, February 24, 2012
Let Me Tell You 'Bout the Birds and the Bees...
After my daughter grilled me at bath time for several days with specific anatomical questions about how babies are born, I finally told her just how that happens. My vague answer that "the doctor" helps the Mommy get the baby out that placated her at age three would no longer suffice. At the ripe old age of four, she wanted to know EXACTLY how the doctor helped Mommies get their babies out and from EXACTLY where. According to the parenting books I had read, this conversation wasn't supposed to take place until she was much closer to puberty. I shouldn't have been surprised that she was ready to discuss this topic before she even started preschool. Our little girl frequently asked questions that other children her age did not such as "Which species of birds migrate and how do they know when to depart?" (age three) and "When the earth rotates on it's axis why don't we fall off?" (age four). She had always been fascinated by the workings of the human body as well. Several months before this conversation, she had checked out a junior high level textbook from the library titled "The Excretory System". Instead of Disney Princess or My Little Pony, we talked about kidneys at bedtime.
A few days after we had this conversation, my husband was reading to her from her children's Bible as part of the bedtime routine. This particular evening's story was of Jesus's birth, one of her favorites. Before he began reading, she said " Daddy, I know how Jesus was born." I'm certain that my husband was expecting her to tell him that it was in a manger or on Christmas Eve. Instead, she simply stated "He came out of Mary's (insert cutesy name for female private part)." Joe replied "Who. Told. You. THAT?!" to which she said "Mommy." Mistaking his shock and embarrassment for confusion, she gently patted his arm and said "Don't worry, Daddy. I'm sure if you ask, Mommy will explain it all to you too."
A couple of years later, after a few days of public school and half a dozen bus rides, she wanted to know how Mommies became pregnant. She also wanted to know why God would decide to give a fourteen year old a baby. I explained to her that God created a way for a married man and woman to show love to one another that sometimes results in a baby. I told her that when this occurs outside of marriage, a woman can also become pregnant. She asked me if Daddy knew about this, and when I assured her that he did she was not convinced. Although she wanted more details, I told her this was all the information she was getting. I then reminded her, as I typically do when we have these sorts of talks, that this information was not to be shared with her friends because their parents may not appreciate it. My daughter then rolled her eyes and said "They still think that their baby brothers and sisters came out of their Mommies' belly buttons. They must be getting their information from their dads."
A few days after we had this conversation, my husband was reading to her from her children's Bible as part of the bedtime routine. This particular evening's story was of Jesus's birth, one of her favorites. Before he began reading, she said " Daddy, I know how Jesus was born." I'm certain that my husband was expecting her to tell him that it was in a manger or on Christmas Eve. Instead, she simply stated "He came out of Mary's (insert cutesy name for female private part)." Joe replied "Who. Told. You. THAT?!" to which she said "Mommy." Mistaking his shock and embarrassment for confusion, she gently patted his arm and said "Don't worry, Daddy. I'm sure if you ask, Mommy will explain it all to you too."
A couple of years later, after a few days of public school and half a dozen bus rides, she wanted to know how Mommies became pregnant. She also wanted to know why God would decide to give a fourteen year old a baby. I explained to her that God created a way for a married man and woman to show love to one another that sometimes results in a baby. I told her that when this occurs outside of marriage, a woman can also become pregnant. She asked me if Daddy knew about this, and when I assured her that he did she was not convinced. Although she wanted more details, I told her this was all the information she was getting. I then reminded her, as I typically do when we have these sorts of talks, that this information was not to be shared with her friends because their parents may not appreciate it. My daughter then rolled her eyes and said "They still think that their baby brothers and sisters came out of their Mommies' belly buttons. They must be getting their information from their dads."
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