Friday, April 30, 2010

I have a walker.  One of those odd contraptions that let crawling age children propel themselves around the room in a standing position.  I was informed that there is risk of death associated with it.  "The baby can propel themselves down the stair case!"  Deformity "It will corrupt their posture and they won't be able to walk properly."  and Serious injury "They can go through one leg hole and break their back!" 

Nyobi adored it.  Anya loves it.  I think it is brilliant, simply because my six feet radius infant can mush around the kitchen when I cook, but have a foot wide circle of plastic for me to bash into rather than tender little limbs.  having almost stepped on hands and feet, and pretty much body checked my elder two, extra padding is awesome.

So why does the world seem so against my baby walker?  I mean, we advocate the use of them for the infirmed (albeit without the bear print and chewy toys).  There are risks associated with every aspect of life.  The stairs are there regardless of the walker.  Posture can be ruined by bad habits as quickly as a chair.  As for injury, that is just as likely from her sisters trying to pick her up.

I am not an advocate of throwing infants in traffic, but rather a reasonable understanding of risks and benefits.  A safe world is one where we assume risks these and deal with consequences.  It is the parents job to get the legs in the right holes, not over use a baby care item, and block the stairs.  As for my walker,  the giggly Anya just grabbed the edge of the trash can, so i think responsible me must go.   

Thursday, April 29, 2010

The Pigeons are Eating My Grass Seed

My two year old is "playing" a vacume part at the top of her lungs. Anya is screaming because I am typing between spoonfuls of sweet taters rather than holding the spoon in readiness while she finishes what is in her mouth. Cora wants it to be Nyobis nap time, so she is constantly telling her to go lie down.

But those do not bug me nearly as much as the pigeons who are gorging themselves on my carefully laid grass seed. I have large areas of my lawn that need coverage, and I seeded early. I thought that it would be sprouting nicely by now, but it is not. Now I see why. The early morning breakfast of a couple of trumped up game birds is ruining my lawn.

Where are all the neighborhood cats when I need them?

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Lesson Learned

For the last couple of weeks, Cora dominated her sister.  She covered her when she did not want to be covered.  She whacked her when Bee got in her way.  She pulled her, pushed her, and coddled and tattled on her.  I found myself repeating again and again that Bee needs space to learn her own lessons and do her own things.  I told her that hitting her sister was not the best choice.  Cora did not listen.

Today, I listened from the kitchen as Cora tried to take toys away from Bee and cover her with a blanket.  Bee whined.  I yelled into the mix, "leave her be, Cora.  She doesn't want to be covered."

Cora did not listen.

All of a sudden, my eldest appeared in the kitchen, tears streaming down her face and hands clasped over her head.  "Nyobi hit me over the head with the fife!"

"Were you still trying to cover her with her blanket after I told you not to and taking it away from her?"  I asked.

The tears were extra heavy now.  "Yes"  Cora said in a small voice and then began to wail even louder.  "She hit me!"

Inside me,  I felt very bad.  Here is my daughter standing there in pain.  I love her.  I do not want her to suffer.  On the other hand a secret possibly evil thought popped into my head.  This was an ideal lesson in how to treat others.  This was the incident that the last few weeks built towards.  I knelt down and gently reminded Cora of every injury such as this that she had done to Nyobi in the last week.  "Now, where do you think that Nyobi learned to hit someone?"

Cora gulped.  "Me..."

"So lets teach her not to hit people.  And also, Cora, you HAVE to give her space.  She can do things for herself now.  She does not need as much hands on help from Mom, Dad or Cora, okay?"


Then I kissed her owies, and went to talk to Nyobi.  I yelled at her for hitting her sister, but secretly I was elated.  My political science classes taught me that a balance of power is the most logical cause for peace.

Of course, it is also cause for mutual annihilation...

Wait,  did my children just whack each other with a fife?

Monday, April 26, 2010

Fridges and Kisses

I began purchasing the big boxes of eggs. Rather than just a dozen, these boxes hold 2 1/2 dozen eggs in a cardboard tray. Around it, a cardboard box bears all the labels. With small children, we eat a lot of eggs.

Last week, when I purchased one and slid it into the fridge, my Husband stared at it and grumbled. When I asked him to clarify, he told me he hated having to open the box and move it around to get the eggs out. To please him, I took the box and threw it out, just sliding in the tray and eggs. The tray looks good up there.

Its aesthetics vanished this morning when I walked in on my 2 year old dipping her fingers into the partially opened vegi drawer. She places them in her mouth, looks at me, says "mmmmmmm" then smacks her lips and offers me a yolky kiss. Prior to my arrival, she had cracked three readily available eggs into the vegi drawer and scrambled them with her fingers.

My fridge needed cleaning anyways. But yes, that would be why I left the eggs in the troublesome box.