Social Gracious

How to Explain Hypothesis to Five Year Olds

Tonight Eddie Haskell walked past Ubergeek who was standing by the bar in the kitchen checking his fantasy football scores and casually asked, "Daddy, what's a hypothesis?" "What did you say Eddie?" UberGeek replied, making Eddie repeat himself, thinking he had heard something wrong. Eddie Haskell asked about the hypothesis again. UberGeek peered at me, and I looked open mouthed at Eddie. Then I told Eddie it was an idea you thought you had the answer for already but needed to prove. Eddie looked back at me as if to say, "Yeah, I thought you people were not too bright, but this proves it; that makes no sense at all."  I told him that I would find a better way to explain it then I went straight to Google.

Thankfully, PBS and their helpful website, anticipates 3-6 year olds asking this question, apparently their viewers spawn a lot of future Mensa members. I really want to know what happened to five year olds asking whether they can eat the kind of paste that comes out of a jar, is applied with a stick and smells good enough to eat?? Isn't that the kind of question we should be supplying answers to at this age? I like my kids being smart but sometimes I anticipate that they will be laughing at their poor dim witted mother by the time they enter high school.  I don't think I was asking what a hypothesis was at the age of 5; I am going to call my mom tomorrow and ask, seriously. I could read but that was because I was raised by two bookworms and it really was self preservation.

 PBS suggested that we explain the concept by letting the kids mix two different types of food coloring, guessing the outcome and then writing it down.  Thus explaining their guess as the hypothesis and the mixed color as the result. We are always up for a learning challenge and it would kill 15 minutes after bath time so we got out the food color and some clear glasses. We tried a better explanation, that a hypothesis was a guess you could test and that we were going to test some. 

I never would have imagined that two five year olds would so easily grasp hypotheses but they did.  We proved and disproved several and they enjoyed figuring out which mixtures turned into the colors they predicted/hypothesized.  Still, I was glad that after we finished they were back to kicking a blow up beach ball around the house, a decidedly less intellectual pursuit.

Skinny Kids

 
 

This weekend dear friends (dear since they took both of ours plus two of theirs for several hours and still said no to drugs) took our kids to a great city event.  They volunteered for this to help out UberGeek and I, since we would be getting ready for the kiddos fifth birthday party.   Several hours later all the kids returned home exhausted, spent and with a bounty of free loot that included a little paper from one of the local medical centers.  The paper had their current height and weight written on it.  I thanked my friend profusely, tucked the kids in for a nap and put the papers in the drawer for a later date.  Then UberGeek and I frantically continued our birthday party preparations.

Later, after the party was over, all was cleaned up and a sigh of relief was breathed, I dragged out the little papers.  I was curious as to how tall the kiddos were and those growth percentile calculators are readily available online. 

Diva used to be a cute chubby baby, well, not so much chubby as fat.  UberGeek and I fought over who had to carry her, "No, I'm not carrying Jaba, you carry her, I'm taking the skinny one in the carrier." Even her feet were fat, I couldn't fit them in any normal shoes, I had to purchase extra wide baby shoes for the fat pads that crept over the top.  She was a soft, squishy, huggy, happy baby. Then she started walking and it was all over, it became obvious that UberGeek's metabolism genetics had blessedly been passed down to her.  Within six months or so my child became thin.  Now, at five, she is a little taller than average, just over the 79th percentile but only in the 2nd percentile for weight.  So 98 percent of kids her age are heavier than she is.  Thank goodness Osh Kosh and Children's Place make slim pants with adjustable waists. 

Eddie Haskell has always been skinny.  At birth he was just under six pounds, stark white and bruised after having been kicked by his twin sister mercilessly in utero.  He was long and lean, already tall as a baby.  With most babies people comment on how beautiful they are, my mom took one look at him and said "Poor little thing, he just looks like a turtle out of his shell."  It was true, wrinkled and wise, with a furrowed brow he looked up at us as if to say, "Really, could you put me back in for just a couple more weeks? It was my sister who was ready to be born."  He has been around the fifth percentile for weight since birth. 

Once he scaled the heights of the 25th percentile before he started walking, and when I began supplementing breast milk with formula.  As soon as he was mobile it was back to the fifth percentile.  He is warm to the touch most of the time, a little metabolic oven in action, all sharp knees and elbows akimbo.  Eddie looks just like childhood photos of UberGeek, so much so that it tugs on my heart, I wonder if it touches his mother as much as it does me to see how alike they are.  Probably it is more so, since she has all those little boy memories; I only have pictures. I checked his percentiles and he is predictably in the 7th percentile for weight and the 97th for height. 

I used to worry about my kids, afraid that I would take them in for one of those regular check ups and the pediatrician would give me the evil eye.  Instead she asks me if they eat (they do), then she asks me what kinds of foods they eat (all kinds unless in a picky phase) and general questions about their diet and habits. Then she looks at their history and pronounces them sound and healthy.  UberGeek never worries, he just gives me a look, "All those growth charts are skewed now by all the obese kids.  Our kids are fine. We just have skinny kids, at least they don't eat candy."  Subject closed.

Could Jon & Kate's breakup mean a Corvette for UberGeek?

Another video surfaced of Kate Gosselin and her woes dealing with her wayward husband. Because we have multiples, UberGeek and I have watched the Gosselin family for many seasons now.  UberGeek was over it sometime ago, his reasoning is sound, as soon as they were "mo-ovin' on up" with the gourmet kitchen, high gates, extra help etc. they were no longer fun to watch.  When they lived in a normal house, had assorted piles of laundry, couldn't find time to get out to get a haircut and struggled to make ends meet they reminded us of ourselves, only with more stress and strain.  We would look at each other and say, hah, at least we didn't have six kids at once!  Then suddenly, they weren't struggling anymore, instead they were wearing nice clothes, traveling to exotic locales and generally living it up.  It was like a super toddler proofed version of Cribs. Even their arguing wasn't amusing anymore. 

When the story broke that Jon had cheated on Kate I immediately went to UberGeek, "See, I said, that's why I've gotta keep things up to date, running, getting the hair done, plucking the errant whisker. If not, you could end up pulling  a Jon with some college aged dummy. Multiple relationships are under stress."  UberGeek chuckled, "That lady was crazy from the beginning, I'm surprised they weren't divorced long ago.  People should think before they get married, you're the only one for me." I suppose he's right but I still don't let the whisker grow. 

UberGeek and I joke about infidelity occasionally, we are the two least jealous people on the planet, that among other things makes us a good fit.  I wonder if Kate ever suspected that Jon would cheat?  Marriage is tough, marriage with kids is tougher, marriage with eight kids is hard to comprehend.  Still, pull it together and be mature for the kids, get a divorce gracefully. I feel so bad for their children with all this hub bub in the media.  The dad acting like a college frat boy instead of a middle aged father of eight and all the back and forth antics about money.  Couldn't Jon have just bought a red sports car or something?  One day he will wake up and figure out that the new cow he exchanged for the old one is now just as grouchy and pushy as the first one and cost him a lot more for the milk.

I told UberGeek he can have a sports car in a few years when we get rid of the car seats and the minivan is paid off.

 

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Rock Obama

Recently I was washing Eddie Haskell's hair in the shower, scrubbing away while he chatted about this and that.  He looked down at himself, turned his palms up, then down as if inspecting his skin for a bug bite.  Then he said, "Mama, there is someone in my class with brown skin and brown hair."  I said "Yes, just like Mama's friend Miss Y and her family, remember them?" One of my best friends who lived just down the street had two sets of twins but sadly for me, and the kids since they had nearby playmates, they moved two years ago to another state.  "Also, our President, Barack Obama has brown skin too" I said.  "Rock Obama!" he replied. Eddie was quiet for a minute, soaping himself, then he piped up with, "And just like Diva has brown hair and I have blond hair."  "Yes" I said, "just like that, people have all different colors of hair and skin."  Then he was done and onto his next topic. 

I wish it was just like that, for his whole life.  Now, in preschool, my children are unaware of prejudice and racism, kids are kids to them.  Another mom and I were talking about the way our kids describe other people.  They never, ever identify them by race, but rather a clear description of their hair color, eye color, skin color, activities and other factors.  It's such a beautiful time of innocence and it is sad to me that at some point they will begin using the common words we use to categorize different ethnicities rather than their much more accurate current descriptions.

UberGeek and I grew up in Northern Virginia, near Washington, DC,  for much of our lives. There is such a richness of different cultures, ethnicities and religions and diversity is easy to come by.  Now, transplanted to another locale, I often miss how easy it was to find and make friends with people from other cultures,  in our Virginia home they were my co-workers, neighbors and members of social groups I belonged to. During a recent trip home to Northern Virginia I was driving to the grocery store when a man in a canary yellow turban drove by me.  I immediately called my friend, who is also from the DC area, but now lives in Ponte Vedra Beach.  "I just saw a man drive by in a bright yellow turban" I said "I've really missed being at home." She laughed and said, "I know what you mean."

There is diversity in my community here, but I find I have to seek it out.  I love to learn about other people's cultures, try out their foods and ask their opinions on different things. Sometimes the best mirror of yourself and your society is a reflection in eyes that see things not as you do.

Just Another Day

Last Thursday was a typical day for me, but it just goes to show you how crazy life can be with a career, two kids, hubby and a hobby. 

6:00 Shower, dress, get kids started on cereal, set out their clothes, put on makeup, dry hair. UberGeek applies sunscreen to the kids, supervises them getting dressed and groomed.

7:10 I was out the door, UberGeek takes the kiddos to school since the school is on the way to his company and his schedule is flexible. 

7:25 Pull into the parking lot and Eureka, a spot in the gated lot!

7:30 I arrive in cubeville to start my day.  I hold off on a first coffee until 9 when my coffee break pal has settled in and finished her preliminary duties.  The we slink off to the break room to whip up a coffee and breakfast.  Then it's back to the desk until lunchtime.  I had a meeting scheduled for 3:00 with some really energizing colleagues, it was both productive and fun, score! It also ran over. 

4:35 I was grabbing my bags and sprinting in heels to the boonies lot since I lost my gated spot at lunch.  Usually I like parking farther away since it increases my weekly steps taken but I wasn't liking it that day. 

I had to make it to the kiddos swimming lessons. Getting the kids on Miss Page's schedule is like getting an appointment with a gastro doc at Mayo, it ain't easy, there's a wait and you better not miss! The reason is pretty much the same, Miss Page is top of her game.  Anyhow, before leaving the parking lot I texted UberGeek that I was on the way, he had already picked up the kiddos and headed towards the beach to the lesson.  I arrived and UberGeek had gotten there a few minutes early, the kids were already finished with lessons. 

5:15 leave swimming lessons and drive Diva to ballet while UberGeek takes Eddie Haskell to get some dinner, just the boys.  While Diva is in ballet a group of ballet moms and I head over to Crabcake Factory to split some hummus and wait for our ballerinas.  

6:30 Diva exits ballet, we head home and play for a few minutes before getting the kids ready for bed. 

7:30 Kiddo bedtime.

8:00 Superfuzz arrives and we head off to run a few miles, we only get in three but it feels good to blow off steam. 

8:45 I make us all strawberry shortcakes and UberGeek, Superfuzz and I sit around chat, and talk fantasy football until she heads home.

9:30 Shower

10:00 Lie in bed, try to read a few pages of my book, fall asleep.

6:00 AM Repeat

The Good Twin Maker

In general I would say UberGeek and I do a good job with discipline. We watch Supernanny after all, have a sticker chart we faithfully review with the kids each night and do our best to encourage positive behaviors. I've gotta tell you though, there are some nights that I tell my kids they are going to make me change my mind about corporal punishment. Usually this occurs at the dinner table.

I get home around 5:45 or so, dinner needs to be on the table around 6. Typically UberGeek has already moved the thawed dish into the oven to cook by the time I get home and all that is left to do is prepare a salad. I get a chance to say hello to the kiddos, ask them about school and then command them to wash up, set the table and get ready for dinner. Then a transformation occurs. My normally well behaved children become infected with the sillies. The sillies as anyone with a preschooler knows, are extremely annoying to the human adult. They are even worse when two preschoolers are within eyeshot of each other.

Getting my kids both at the table for some reason means the sillies are in full effect. Diva is called upon to say grace. She prefers to sing it and suddenly she screws up her face into "silly Diva face", her voice changes and she gets a devilish grin. "God our Father, God our Father" begins but with a giggle in the throat and a silly look on the face. UberGeek, although mild mannered really likes civilization at the table. He gets "the look" when the grace becomes silly that says he is near to raising his voice. I wait in anticipation for him to totally lose it. I raise my voice all the time but when UberGeek does it, things are serious.

"Grace is nothing to be silly about, you will not be disrespectful to God at the table." Ah dinnertime with two preschoolers, so relaxing. Probably 25% of the time someone gets sent to time out and we can still hear them being silly, sitting on the naughty spot, calling like a siren to the child still sitting at the table who grins and giggles, lured into silliness by the "evil twin".

UberGeek reminds me that our nephew was the kind of silly that drives parents to drink the large bottles of cheap Chardonnay and he turned out great. Now he is fifteen and a great kid, helpful, smart, an honor student. He has a close relationship with his grandparents and is always helping out when he visits them. All things that should indicate that we will survive this stage and that our children will probably turn out OK too.

Still, some nights I long to abandon our sensible discipline plan for the more primal "good twin maker." The wooden spoon brand of discipline doesn't require thought about effectiveness, changing behaviors or any of those things, only a satisfying whack when there is an offense. I often tell my kids "y'all are going to make me change my mind about corporal punishment." I'm sure they don't know what I'm talking about but it helps me to imagine I still have the option. UberGeek just grins and we do our best to get through another night, trying to enjoy the times when the kids are pleasant and anticipating bedtime when they're not. I know they'll outgrow the sillies, I just hope we survive them.

Dry Pants Ice Cream

Dry Pants Ice Cream

We have been buying diapers or Pull Ups now for over four years. Both children were successfully potty trained around three years old and Diva went all night in underwear not long after. Eddie Haskell however, seemed to have a camel-like bladder that stored up an entire days urine for the night. During the day he almost never had an accident, we didn't even have to remind him to use the bathroom, oh but the nights were long. We started by not letting him drink anything after 6:30 or so in the evening and then of course taking him to the bathroom just before bed. Then we'd wake him before we went to bed around 10 to go potty again. It didn't seem to matter, he'd be totally soaked by morning.

Eddie Haskell has a mind of his own. When he was three we had been attempting to potty train him for some time. He was having none of it, preferring the convenience of peeing in his Pull Up to the hassle of underwear. At home we forced him to wear underwear but at school he had to be able to go a few days without accidents in order to be sent to school in big boy underwear. Not long after Christmas, he asked us for the Geotrax Grand Central Station which he saw at Target. I told him that we could not afford to buy him that toy because we had to buy $14.99 worth of Pull Ups every bloody week. I told him that if he could go a week at school without accidents and save me the Pull Up money the toy was his. He got a gleam of determination in his eye which I figured would last about two hours, tops. Like his father however, when he decides he is going to do something, he does. That week he had two accidents, the entire week and we figured that was close enough, the Grand Central Station was his.

The kiddos are almost five and I began worrying that we would have to save money not only for college tuition but also for a lifetime supply of night time Pull Ups for Eddie Haskell. How would he get the girls? He'd forever be relegated to the role of Wingman wearing Pull Ups to bed! UberGeek had a plan. There is nothing Eddie Haskell likes better than treats, preferably ice cream. UberGeek laid down the potty gauntlet, if Eddie could go three nights with dry pants he could pick any treat spot he wanted to go to for dessert after dinner. That first night as we sat on the couch after tucking in the little people, we heard the patter of little feet down the hallway, the toilet seat lifted, a flush and handwashing many, many times. Eddie Haskell did make it through that first night dry as can be, he was dry the second night and the third too. He picked Kilwin's for his treat spot and I have to tell you that I think that was some of the sweetest ice cream I have ever tasted.

Fireworks and Fabulousness

For the first time in many years we celebrated the Fourth of July in a public place. Eddie Haskell is terrified of two things, thunderstorms and fireworks. This year he announced that he is no longer scared of fireworks and that we as his parents were to take him to see them. Who were we to argue? As a precaution we bought those weird ear things people wear to mow their grass, one pair each for Eddie Haskell and Diva. We checked the city website about the evening event, made sure the kids got late afternoon naps, packed a bag and readied ourselves.

We parked in our old neighbor's beach lot and walked toward the oceanfront area where the festival was being held. As we approached the cordoned off festival a woman security guard said, "Sorry, no backpacks." Mind you I had read the website the very same day, which made no mention of a backpack ban. I said, "Well, I guess we can't go because everything we need to take two four year olds to their first Fourth of July is in that backpack." The children began to have that wide eyed look of terror they get just before they start screaming.  I think the woman sensed it because suddenly she lurched toward UberGeek and agreed to a search of the offending backpack. I called off the four year olds.

Then we found some overpriced, completely non nutritive food and chowed down before settling on a spot to spread our blanket. The kids split a snow cone so they were in seventh heaven. I also purchased two flags for them to wave and they were dancing around to the first band we saw on stage, a lukewarm act called Mint Julep.

Soon two guys with lawn chairs sat next to us, it was obvious they were pretty lit, but they were polite and friendly, still damp from a swim in the ocean. I didn't pay any attention to them until I looked over and noticed that the one closest to us was streaming blood down his leg. I ignored it for a minute, figuring he would soon notice that he was staining his towel a lovely cherry color. When it became obvious to me that he was either too drunk to notice or had lost all feeling in his leg I felt it my duty to inform him that he was in danger of hemorrhaging in a puddle on the grass and ruining my beach blanket. I'm not sure what's wrong with me that way. "Excuse me, sir, you're bleeding. Would you like some Neosporin and a Band Aid?" I offered. I was already reaching into my fully stocked backpack which also contained gauze pads and bio shield gloves, this was Jax Beach after all. "Nawwww," came the response. "Oh, all right" I said.

Then I turned to UberGeek, trying to alert him that a man was bleeding next to us. He just gives me "the look" the one I get when I am obviously over reacting to a man bleeding to death on a grassy knoll next to us. It's true that I am slightly more anxiety prone since my children were born.  I am so happy that they have made it intact to this point. I'll be damned if I will let them be dancing a happy Fourth of July dance one minute only to contract hepatitis from a drunken hemorrhaging man next to us the next. In my mind I visualize one misstep of their jolly game of leap frog resulting in them landing open mouthed on the bleeding leg of the man next to us WHO HAS GOD KNOWS WHAT KIND OF DISEASES. I wait until I think UberGeek is no longer paying attention and the men are watching the concert. Then I inch our blanket further away from Mr. Blood and Guts secure in the knowledge that my children are safer.

The Navy band comes on next and they rock! We are all singing songs and dancing, proud to be Americans. Before you know it it is fireworks time, oh and the kiddos love them! They are out until almost 11 at night, three hours past their bedtime. The next day, everyone is cranky, there are many timeouts but it was well worth it. We had a blast.

Slacker Blogger

I have been remiss lately and have not updated Social Gracious very often. Alas, there is a reason why. Life is total chaos right now. We have been in the process of cleaning out the office to redesign it and finishing up the bathroom remodel we started LAST May. Oh, and did I mention UberGeek decided it would be cool to rip out the carpet in our master bedroom, clean up the concrete, treat and stain it for an ultra modern look. Normally, my fabulous husband has no desire or interest in decorating but suddenly he looked around our bedroom and said it was cluttered and clunky, the furniture was too big, the carpet old and tired, he was over it. UberGeek wants sleek lines and an updated look. Shocker. Since we have no budget for new furniture this will involve selling our old furniture on Craigslist and purchasing used furniture or heading to IKEA and being creative. Possibly we could do a combination of yardsale cool stuff and IKEA. I am good at this type of thing if I am inspired by design magazines, copying other people's designs is my speed. Time to head to Barnes & Noble I think. 

I LOVE, LOVE the idea and we are really handy but we also have two four year olds, two cats, a dog, a yard that needs mowing every week, full time jobs, miles to run, cars that need cleaning, groceries to shop for, dinner to get on the table and a house that seems to have gremlins that come out and make it a living nightmare if I take just a small break from picking up stuff. The laundry, the bane of my existence, the laundry mocks me with it's evil and sizable presence from the laundry room where it lies in wait to take over the next room. For four people we produce huge mounds of dirty textiles. We reuse towels, hang up clothing that is not visibly soiled (adults anyhow) and yet we still have probably 6-8 loads a week. Possibly because two of us pee in our beds approximately 2 nights a week, that adds up to 4 total nights a week of washing draw sheet and blanket. Argh! I thank goodness that we divide and conquer, I sort, wash and dry and UberGeek folds, then I put away; I don't like to fold.

So I have missed you friends and I have been thinking of you; it has been a busy time. I'm back and hope all of you had a great weekend. I am hopeful that it was quieter than mine.  Mine was busy and really exciting but I'm looking forward to a little more rest next weekend.

The Birds and the Bees, Sex Education for Preschoolers

 

My friend Mandy told me this tale, one day she was dropping her twins off at preschool when another little girl turned to her and said, "My mommy just pushed a baby out of her VA-GI-NA." Mandy, unphased, told the little girl that was great news, she must have a new little brother or sister. Inside she was cracking up.

My generation seems to be trying hard to be fairly no nonsense about bodies and human sexuality. It's not always easy though, I have to say. We use the correct words for our children's reproductive organs at our house but inwardly it feels awkward to hear them floating in the air. I don't think my mother or father ever said the words vagina or penis out loud. For my kids it's like an arm or a leg,they are not ashamed of those parts any more than they are ashamed of any other parts. Since they are boy/girl twins we had to explain their differences early. Obviously they noticed. A good friend of mine, Joan, suggested that we use the world vulva for female reproductive organs, it covers the whole area and has the added bonus of being almost impossible for toddlers and preschoolers to pronounce. When they try to pronounce it,  it comes out sounding like Lula, although it is correct nomenclature, Lula sounds much better in public when screamed out by a preschooler than VA-GI-NA!

Recently my children have started asking questions beyond those that are specific to their body   parts. They know about babies being in mama tummies and drinking milk from their mama's nipples. That was thanks to us having a mama rescue cat and her litter come to live with us. Our new arrivals caused weeks of discussion as to why cats have 8 nipples and we only have two, why kittens suck on nipples, you only touch your own nipples and noone elses etc. We were pretty much finished with the breast discussion with one litter of kittens. Unfortunately the cat had her kittens elsewhere and then came to live here or we could have gotten the "how mammals are born" discussion over with pretty quickly too. But we haven't, and recently at the breakfast table over cereal Diva asked me how babies got  out of their mama's tummies. "Do they come out of your nipples?" she asked. Panicked, I told myself to calm down, it's only birth, a natural part of being a human. I took a breath and told her, "No, babies do not come out of nipples, mamas have a special opening in their vulvas that babies come out of." "Oh", said Diva and went back to her cereal. Phew. I supposed there might be more questions coming our way and I knew just where to go for help.

My father in law is unimpressed with all the hub bub about sex education these days. I love it when he sums it up, "We lived on a farm, who didn't know what sex was? No big deal." Although they are in many ways conservative people, my in laws bestowed upon me the grandest and most wonderful gift ever related to sex education. The bomb of all sex ed books, first published in 1968 by Time Life, it was the book they used to give "the talk" to their three boys. It is called How Babies Are Made and it is still available on Amazon, used of course. Even before I had my children I treasured it. After Diva's recent curiosity I pulled it out of the bookcase to look at the paper cut out sex ed illustrations and decide together with UberGeek whether it was time to read the little picture book with them. UberGeek and I got distracted by another matter, put it up on a high barstool and forgot about it. A few days later we had the discussion again, decided it was time and picked the book up off it's perch on the top of the barstool. Slowly UberGeek and I approached the kiddos, book in hand, ready to answer any of their questions. Aware of how momentous this reading occasion was, we sat down together on the couch and waited for them to climb in our laps. "We have a new book tonight!" we exclaimed. Diva took one look at the book and said, "Oh, The Best Babysitter in the World read that book to us already this week. We want to read a different book." So you see, if you just leave your sex education books lying around the house, your super fabulous babysitter can do the hard work for you!