One-on-one time is worth infinity plus infinity plus one
Nearly every weekday morning for the last two years, I’ve had a little friend ride with me to and from work. We’ve had many conversations via the rearview mirror – my youngest child, now 5, buckled into a car seat in the back, and myself in the front as I drove to work and dropped him off at daycare just across the street.
We’ve talked about his school, his friends, his fears, his toys, how much we loved each other — googleplex plus googleplex times infinity plus 180 or so – and, most recently the latest superpowers that he acquired from a friend, including his laser eyes, ability to spawn tornadoes and hands that could freeze anything they touched. Some days, all he wanted to do was clench his green blanket and suck his thumb, a relaxing end to a long day, but now, at age 5, he’s growing up and moving out of that stage.
So today, I’m sad, as I have been for the last several weeks: I dropped off and picked up my youngest son at the OPUBCO Child Development Center for the last time. Today was his last day, and after next week, the doors to the wonderful facility will close for good. The teachers and staff and aides are outstanding, and I hate to say good-bye to them and the happy place that’s done so much good for children through the years.
As families have found other places for their children to attend, it’s become more and more like a ghost town lately, but the teachers still there continue to be dedicated and committed to the well being of the remaining children.
I’ve loved the childcare center (thanks, OPUBCO, for running it all these years), but I’ve cherished even more this one-on-one time with my son, daily alone moments that are hard to grab with any of my children, since there are three of them and only one of me. As the youngest, he’s had even less of me than the others because I’m spread thinner, now single and working full time, which I didn’t do when the older two, now 8 and nearly 10, were his age.
So for now, that daily one-on-one time is over. I’m so thankful I had it and hope to figure out a way to carve out more of it with each of my children amid the daily busyness. Any ideas?
~ Lillie-Beth Brinkman (lbrinkman@opubco.com)
Reenacting the Oklahoma Land Run: A school project that turned out more fun than stressful
From left, third-grade classmates Sara, Ryan and Bennett stand in front of the covered wagons they helped assemble for the Chisholm Elementary School Land Run. The trio, along with another classmate, Abby, comprised the Land Run "family" that they dubbed the "Oakley Orphans."
It was going to be another school project to stress about, another one to agonize over – a year in advance. When I saw the covered wagons being pulled by children in bonnets, aprons and overalls last year for the annual third-grade Chisholm Elementary School Land Run in Edmond, I began to worry way before the event about how I could pull something like that off when my first child hit third grade this year
I shouldn’t have worried. The entire production from start to finish was a ball (see related story here), and, as it turned out, building a covered wagon was not as intimidating as it seemed. Making the project even easier was that teachers divided their classes into “families” of four students who would run the Land Run together, and each of those families needed to produce one wagon, not each student.
We ended up with two because two of us had wagons and both of our students were excited about creating one. Each of them was different; anyone could use either approach to create a covered wagon, although the one from my son and me was a little puny compared to the outstanding one that his friend’s family built. That one could hold three children at least. Ours, more like a small family dog. On the other hand, the puny one was easier to pull, so its drivers found the claim to stake before the big one could get there.
First the large one: The Taylor family had a big metal cart used for extensive gardening to pull flowers around a yard while planting. We took chicken wire and shaped it in the shape of the covered wagon and cut up two hula hoops to frame the chicken wire and make it more sturdy. Plastic ties connected the hula hoops to the chicken wire, the chicken wire to the cart and the sheet to the chicken wire. The sheets, dyed in black tea to make them look more rustic instead of crisp white, were then arranged over the chicken wire/hula hoop frame to look like a wagon.
In that cart went blankets for the picnic lunch, sack lunches and bottled water and the claim stake that the kids painted with their family name on it. The familiy of four third graders on their own avoided discussion about who would be the wife and husband and the kids by calling themselves the “Oakley Orphans,” which accidentally became the “Okley Orphans” when the “a” was left off of the painted sheets covering the wagon.
Our puny wagon started with PVC pipe – I can’t remember which size, but it was probably around an inch in diameter or less. It was bendable, thanks to a strong dad who worked out regularly. He bent the pipe and fit it into the top of the Radio Flyer red wagon. I used Gorilla duct tape to secure it to the wagon (see the Land Run slide show linked on this page). Voila! That was it, except for the sheet that needed to be draped and arranged around the pipes.
Now I have a wagon ready for my next two children, and all of my concern about how to be a part of the Land Run is behind me.
I’m also thankful to the mom who loaned my son her son’s overalls and Western shirt for the occasion. Next year, I know to ask a mom in the class ahead if I can borrow a costume for my daughter. And now I’m confident enough in my Land Run abilities that I will even be able to make cute lunches in old-fashioned tin cans wrapped in bandanas like one forward-thinking (or backward-in-time-thinking?) family did this year.
Here is the slideshow of photos from the day.
~ Lillie-Beth Brinkman (lbrinkman@opubco.com)
A little dirt and a worm or two can be good for children
(fixed broken link and updated with corrected name of New York Times author)
When my oldest child was 9 months old, he got really picky about what he ate. His hands played goalie to his mouth and only a limited variety of foods was allowed in. Except the day he ate a junebug off the floor as he crawled around. I got there just in time to hear the crunch. It was gross. I’ll spare you the details.
Now the New York Times is saying here that kind of behavior might be instinctual, that babies who put everything in their mouths as soon as they get mobile might be protecting their immune system more than the ultraclean environments some live in today.
“In studies of what is called the hygiene hypothesis, researchers are concluding that organisms like the millions of bacteria, viruses and especially worms that enter the body along with “dirt” spur the development of a healthy immune system,” writes Jane E. Brody in the New York Times.
Experts she quoted speculate that the increase in the number of immune system disorders – like asthma, allergies or Type 1 diabetes – diagnosed each year may be related to the idea that we should keep our children from germs of any kind.
The lesson here is that while cleanliness is still a virtue, it’s OK to allow some dirt in your house, and your children don’t always have to wash their hands after touching it. And if they eat a junebug or a worm or some other disgusting thing they pick up off the floor, then they might actually be helping their immune systems.
~ Lillie-Beth Brinkman (lbrinkman@opubco.com)
Gingerbread house masterpieces from graham crackers, milk cartons
About 120 third-grade crafters at Chisholm Elementary School in Edmond met Thursday in the cafeteria to create gingerbread houses, a tradition that’s been around for years.
They spread the icing and stuck on the candy on roofs, eaves, front walkways and more. This year, quite a few of the students used the red licorice or red hots to form the letters “OU” or “Sooners.”
If you wanted to, the tradition seems easy enough to start at home, without any of the usual complex baking. At school, parent volunteers created the framework of each one in advance by sticking two pint-sized milk cartons together and gluing graham crackers across the angled tops of the cartons to make the roof and on the sides to make the walls (see photos below). Ice cream cones formed the base of the trees outside the house.
Then, in addition to the peppermints, gumdrops, m&m’s, little cookies and more, the parents handed out bowls of white icing and popsicle sticks to spread it and let the 8- and 9-year-olds go to work on the decorations. Most of the students were concentrating so hard that very few of them were eating the candy itself.
~ Lillie-Beth Brinkman
Here are some photos. Click on them to see them larger. Video is above. To see more photos after the jump, click on “more” below.
Courtroom logic: Right or wrong, Mom, everyone else is doing it
If my kids tried to get out of trouble by using the same excuse that a criminal scam artist used in court this week to plead for leniency in his sentencing, I might double their punishment out of anger at the flawed thinking. Or I might just have to laugh. The excuses he used in federal court sound more like a child’s than a grown-up’s.
In essence, Phillip Levaughn Raglin argued through his attorney that his crimes weren’t as bad as everyone else’s. And those OTHER people aren’t even getting punished, he reasoned, so the judge should be lenient to him. Raglin bilked investors out of about $900,000 by convincing them to buy into his phony company.
Here are the details, described by writer Tony Thornton in The Oklahoman:
Through his attorney, Raglin said that the judge should give him mercy because his crimes are “minimal compared to the ‘financial bandits’ who caused the Wall Street meltdown but who are ‘getting off nearly scot free,’” Thornton wrote.
By what reasoning? Don’t we as parents teach our children that we are accountable for our own actions, no matter what the rest of the world does? That there are standards in place that don’t change?
I don’t care what everyone else did in this case. Yes, the Wall Street fiasco is a mess and there should be some fallout for those involved.
But that doesn’t matter for Raglin, nor would it matter in our house. If an action is wrong, it’s wrong, no matter who else did or didn’t do it or whether they got punished for it or not. I hope my kids learn that lesson now so they don’t have to learn it before a judge in a courtroom.
If my kids tried to use that logic on me, I’d like to believe I would see straight through it. Apparently the federal judge in Muskogee did, too. He sentenced Raglin to 10 years in prison — the maximum — and ordered him to pay more than $1 million in restitution.
Here’s a related “Mom-ism” for thought: “Doing what is right is not always easy but it’s ALWAYS right.”
And ideally that would apply whether everyone else is doing it or not.
For great reading involving this case, check out the court documents (links below):
Defense attorney Robert Ridenour’s arguments for leniency — ” Phillip is supremely confident and optimistic … (and) wants to be recognized and respected for his inteliigence.”
http://static.newsok.biz/sites/newsok/docs/Raglin%20Defense.pdf
And prosecutor Susan Dickerson Cox’s arguments for the maximum sentence for Raglin: “He is narcissistic, materialistic and arrogant concerning his financial dealings.”
http://static.newsok.biz/sites/newsok/docs/Raglin%20Prosecution.pdf
~Lillie-Beth Brinkman
Lessons for Mom on first day of preschool
My youngest child started preschool yesterday, and Mom was the one who learned the lesson. The drop-off was traumatic, even though he moved from one room up to the next — the oldest — in the same daycare center that he has attended all year.
But I made a big deal about it, just like I did when my older two started preschool. Then, I was a stay-at-home mom so the transition from home to school seemed big. Now, I’m a working mom, and the transition in childcare to pre-K simply means changing rooms and teachers with all your friends.
But wherever life takes you, I still believe preschool is a big deal, an exciting time, a time that marks the formal start of what hopefully will be a lifelong desire to learn. It’s monumental, major, a milestone, amazing and all that. The first day of preschool deserves special attention, a photograph and as much fuss as my older two got for the start of their elementary school grades this week.
I learned yesterday that piling on all those hopes and dreams is too much pressure for a 4-year-old.
He cried and cried and hugged and hugged me during drop-off as he felt the full weight of all that pressure and those expectations. While he usually marches in smiling, greets his friends and disappears with them onto the playground, on the drive to school that “first” day he hid himself underneath his favorite green blanket, known affectionately as “Green.”
On the long prison walk down the hall to his new classroom, he sucked his thumb – usually an act reserved only for naps and bedtime – clutching “Green” as if it were his only friend.
He had been a little unsettled all week.
If I had just gotten him up and said “Yea! You’re starting preschool today!” he would have been fine as I took a picture in his class.
Instead his first-day-of-preschool picture in the classroom doorway shows him holding onto “Green” for dear life, wadded up in his arms as he hid his worried face partially behind it. Getting ready to launch his lifetime love of learning.
By the time I picked him up, he was smiling and having a great time as he took me on a tour of his classroom and chatted about his friends and about what he did that day. He skipped into his classroom today with a smile and a quick hug.
The pressure is off – preschool is back to being just a normal part of everyday life.
Yesterday’s milestone, I realized, only belonged to me as my youngest one grows up.
~ Lillie-Beth Brinkman
Life questions
“Mom, do you know the Easter bunny or are you the Easter bunny?”
Anyone have the answer to that one?
~Lillie-Beth
Count it all joy (Sisyphus)
I often think of the myth of Sisyphus that I read about in school sometime years ago.
He was the man whom the Greek gods condemned to roll a huge boulder up a hill, only to see it roll down when he reaches his top. He then has to trudge back to the bottom to do it all again. Every day for all of eternity.
I can’t remember what Sisyphus did that was so bad in the Greek legend, but I think of him when I do the laundry. The laundry is my boulder.
When (if) I get it completely washed, folded and put away, I feel like I’ve accomplished a major feat, only to open the laundry hamper to see it already full again. With clothes from the swimming pool, the playground, sports games, the park or elsewhere and with towels from the pool as well as from the kids’ three baths each night.
I know I’m not unique.
I also know that we can find Sisyphus anywhere, in the little things like dishes and laundry and in the big things like child rearing. We get up every day and do it all over again.
Philosopher Albert Camus once suggested that Sisyphus was smiling as he faced his momentous task again each day, and in doing so, he had beaten the gods.
“One must imagine Sisyphus happy,” he wrote.
I like that. I also like what the apostle Paul wrote to the early Christians once:
“My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience.” (James 1:2-3 NKJV)
It’s hard to remember to smile in the nitty gritty daily grind of whatever my boulder is that day. I often have to remind myself to “count it all joy.”
But each day is a new day, and I am thankful for the chance to try again with my children, my family and friends whom I love. And with the laundry. And unpacking from our move a year ago. And the dishes. And the cleaning. And …
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning.(Lamentations 3:22-23 NIV)
~Lillie-Beth Brinkman
What’s in, what’s out at the lost-and-found style show
Dirty, stinky clothes were out but nice jackets, sweaters, mismatched flip-flops and jeans were in during the Lost-and-Found Fashion Show held at Chisholm Elementary School this week.
The style show at the Edmond school started nine years ago when Principal Joanne Graham arrived and it continues to be a hit. It’s also a great way to return missing clothes to the proper owners.
And “stylin’” they were in discarded sweatshirts, jackets, ball caps, lunch boxes, shoes and more. Modeling were fifth-grade members of the “Chargies Kidz Council” at Chisholm. The style show had so many items that it required about 40 models to show them off.
Models picked out silly names like “Ravishing Robin,” were announced by emcees and strutted onto stage to music, sometimes carrying a lost lunch box as well.The students in the audience who recognized what they were wearing raised their hand, and the model dropped by to remove the “found” item and hand it over to the correct owner.
“We got rid of about a fourth of the stuff we modeled,” Graham said.
By the end of the day the lost-and-found box was reduced by about half as students claimed more items that were displayed in the cafeteria after the style show.
The remaining items will be donated to charity by the end of the year.
What puzzles Graham was the amount of shoes that ended up in the mountainous lost-and-found box — a pair of red boots, a single, mismatched flip-flop and more.
“How do you go home without your shoes on?” she asked.
Who knows? But what a great, practical and fun way to end the school’s assembly line-up for the year.
Happy summer! (soon)
~ Lillie-Beth
Risque business for Miley Cyrus?
Parents of “’tweens” and younger children have probably heard by now about the controversial photos of Miley Cyrus that will appear in the upcoming issue of Vanity Fair magazine. To some, the photos by Annie Leibovitz are suggestive and inappropriate for the 15-year-old star of the Disney sitcom “Hannah Montana” and the clean image that Cyrus projects to her fans. Others, who think the photos are artistic and classical, wonder what all the fuss is about.
In any case, she (but especially her parents) should have known that provocative photos of a 15-year-old girl, even if innocent, would take on a life of their own among her young fans and the parents who are trying to protect them from the smuttiness of today’s world.
I don’t know what Cyrus hoped to accomplish with those photos — a more grown-up image, perhaps? — or if she was just having fun with a renowned photographer and in awe of the spectacle of being Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus and the doors that the character has opened for her.
As parents, we try to stay on guard to make sure good judgment prevails when it comes to our children, long before people are saying, “well, hindsight is 20/20, but … ”
