For now, they are listening...

The extent to which my children listen to me surprises me. I don't mean when I am telling them to "BE QUIET AND GO TO BED!" for the tenth time. They don't listen then. I mean to the big stuff. I have it so stuck in my head that "actions speak louder than words" that I had just assumed that words were for naught. (I know, silly, but it's the truth.) I'd been thinking as long as I DID the right thing, it didn't really matter what I said. Wrong. The little buggers do listen and absorb everything we say, I've found, so we have to be perfect in word and deed it turns out. Great.


I had this impressed upon myself yet again the other day while Emilia was discussing her "friend troubles" with me. It appears one of her little Kindergarten buddies is putting on a play (this is the latest thing amongst Emilia and her class) and cast her as the queen. We all know there are bad school days, great school days, and average school days, the latter of course, being the most common variety. Occasionally something awful or wonderful will kick the day rating up or down a notch into one of the more extreme categories.


Well the day my daughter got the news she was the queen, was a good day. She was just thrilled, in a way that an A on the spelling test, or a trip to the prize box even, was never going to come close to. Needless to say, two weeks later, when this friend told Emilia she was no longer the queen, the torch had been passed to so-and-so, was a bad day. (Don't get mad, Mom. Remember, this is life.)


I offered that she should simply write her own play and cast herself as the queen in it. She could still be in her friend's play, but she would have her own too, assuring she was able to keep the coveted role. She liked my idea. Wow. I felt certain nothing short of "she must bend to MY will" was going to do, but perhaps my darling, strong-minded daughter is maturing.

A few more days brought yet another development. Strangely enough, Emilia had offered her friend the role of queen in her play, and the girl refused it! Imagine! Said she wanted to be the princess. (Emilia pointed out to me that the role of princess was not nearly so major a role as that of queen. What was her friend thinking?!) She considered telling the friend that if SHE (Emilia) could have the part she wanted in her friend's play, then the friend could indeed be the princess in HER play. I told her that I had faith she could handle the situation. "But do you think that is a good idea?" she asked me. She asked for my advice. At least for now, she cares what I think. Maybe, if I play my cards right, this will last until she's nine.

:) Tracy

What scent is YOUR handsoap?

I kind of have a thing for liquid hand soap. If I'm feeling spendy, I will splurge on a nice one for the master bath. In my dream world, I would have the L'Occitane ones in there all the time, but I'm talking Target here.

I wanted to take a moment to share the nuttiness of my kids with you......or is that what I've been doing all along....lol. Anyhow, tonight, as my kiddos are going to bed, Emilia announces that Nana and Jack's house smells good. Uh oh. I'm immediately worrying about what her critique of *our* house smell is going to be. (Emilia just may grow up to be a critic of some sort. Very discerning.) I was relieved to be informed that our house smells like nothing. But, she went on to educate me, my parents' house smells like the hand soap at Daddy's sink. The hand soap at Daddy's sink is a reject from my sink. I was dutifully using it up when Daddy expressed a wish for some hand soap, at which I gladly donated it. (I would have never tossed it. I am not like that. Unless I really hated it.) I couldn't remember exactly what that un-beloved scent was. "Not the Funky Farm," Emilia added. Funky Farm is the new hand soap (it's for kids) I allowed myself to buy this weekend in an effort to get my kids a little less resistant to hand washing. It's working. That stuff turned out to be awesome. I bought one for each bathroom. One is floral (daisy, to be exact, although I do not ever remember smelling a daisy) and nice, the other smells like orange Popsicles and is YUM. But neither of those are what Nana's house smells like. "Like the ocean one?" Lucas asked. (See, some men are interested in all of this!) The ocean one is MY soap, it's Method "Sea Minerals," quite lovely, and had formerly been used to entice Lucas to wash up before meals and after toileting (hence his familiarity with it.) This was pre-Funky Farm, of course. No, I let him know this was not the scent in question, either. It was the one at Daddy's sink. Thankfully, their curiosity ended there, and I was allowed to leave the room and reenter sanity for these few brief hours I am allowed each evening. I ran to the bathroom. Green Tea and Lemongrass. I don't have a good ending for this, except to say that I guess I'm passing on my soap obsession!

Max and Ruby

If you have children, you have probably watched this quaint television program. I am not being sarcastic, I really love it! Max and Ruby are two bunny rabbits, brother, aged three, sister, aged eight. Max is always up to his shenanigans, which are very endearing. He speaks very little, usually just one word per "skit," something like "jelly bellies" or "butterfly," whatever he has been coveting for that episode. Ruby is equally lovable. Although I do know a few grown-ups who find her a bit nauseating, I find Ruby to be an excellent role-model for big sisters everywhere, heck, even for parents! Granted, Max's antics are cute. He doesn't break Ruby's toys or beat her up or anything. So it's not that much Ruby has to endure. But Max does get annoying. He never does what Ruby wants, (isn't this a little brother's job?) yet Ruby simply sighs and responds patiently. She always has the perfect little answer, and Max never cries (that I can recall) or throws a fit. It's childhood in an ideal world. Call me crazy, but I like it. My kids love it.

This Friday, I caught an advertisement for a children's theater company that would be offering up Max and Ruby at 2 and 4:30, today (Sunday), at Thalian Hall here in Wilmington. Despite the fact that we are (still) poor, I felt I had to take the kids. In my mind, these are the things charge cards are really for. I have taken my husband's charge cards away, if you must know, but kept my own. This might seem unfair (I know you don't think so, Mom) but if you know me, you understand. I am, quite frankly, the queen of restraint. I can resist anything. Call it a gift, or a curse, however it strikes you, it is what it is. Claudio doesn't mind a whit that I have the cards. My having credit cards is (practically) a non-issue. I think maybe he's hoping I'll spend (on anything) so he can experience it vicariously. Well today he got his wish.

I charged up $36 on the ol' Visa, and it was well worth it. I am a humongous theater fan. I use the term theater broadly to include ballet, concerts, and every kind of theater from the musical to the absurd. It's no secret that I was once an aspiring actress. I love theater, okay? And I want my kids to appreciate it. So I keep taking them. It isn't working.

Emilia, by all counts, should love the theater. She's quite the little ballerina, has danced in The Nutcracker and is currently rehearsing for The Sleeping Beauty Ballet. She adores ballet class and performing. She loved being in the talent show at school, and did a great job. She's definitely got a lot of me in her. Yet every time I try to take her to the theater, to the ballet, to the opera, it flops. She wants to LEAVE at intermission! Imagine! It's gotten to the point that I thought I might be doing more harm than good in my quest to educate her in the finer points of life.

Well today I figured out where I've been going wrong. And it was so painfully obvious. Have you figured it out, yet? Today we went to a production of CHILDREN'S theater. Get it? Theater catering to CHILDREN. What made me think my six year old would be able to appreciate The Pirates of Penzance? I am not saying she hated these productions I've been taking her to, just that I was not getting that "Wow, magic!" reaction I'd been hoping for. The one I remember having when my mom took my sisters and I to see our first musical. It was the local high school play. Oddly enough, (and this is a whole other story, but not a very interesting one, so I probably will never tell it unless you beg me, but don't) I am not sure what musical it was. I think it was Desert Song, but I am not sure. Anyway, I was hooked. I knew I had to be a part of what was going on up there. The perhaps sad part, is that this feeling has never left me. Although I have long since stopped trying to be an actress, it's still there, that longing for the theater. I cry a lot when I go to the theater. I don't mean at the sad parts. At the good parts. I really love it.

Don't be sad for me. I'm very much an optimist and I will make peace with the theater. I'm a tad busy raising my kids at the moment (something I love doing as much as I love the theater, maybe more) but I'll get back to it. That's a promise.

So where the heck was I? Right, children's theater. Very embarrassing that I just really didn't GET it until today. Well, you know what another part of it was? (I just realized this.) This was an excellent production. Top notch. This has been part of the problem, I think, with my past attempts. I love Wilmington, I really do, but I grew up next to New York City, kwim? I know that may sound rude, and I'm sorry, but try to understand. The best of the best was right there. Not quite at my fingertips, but close enough. And I had parents that "got it" and brought us frequently. I was raised on the NYC Ballet Nutcracker and Broadway. The real deal. I do not want to be a theater snob, but I can't help it. Enough on that.

For whatever reason, be it the subject material, the production level, the fact that it catered to the ages of my kids, today, for the first time, my kids enjoyed the theater. I brought the little one (Lucas) too. It wasn't his first time to the theater, but after my strike outs with the older one, I'll admit I've gone a little easier on him.

They both loved it. I was afraid to ask themat first, although their quiet starings at the stage, their movements only to procure a better view, were kind of a hint.
So today was very fulfilling. I have finally managed to share some of this grand love of mine with my children. Priceless.

:) Tracy

Update

The baby birds are gone. They were here when I woke up at 7, gone when Claudio left to bring Emilia to school at 7:40. I missed it. :(

Short post today

I've been feeling a little "dry" lately, sorry no stories. I feel tomorrow will be different; we'll see. I would like to take this opportunity, however, to give a big shout out to my beloved friend Michelle, who sent me an email today to catch me up on her life. Michelle, you are awesome, I love you!

Baby bird update: They are getting even bigger. They are SO going to fly away any moment now. The kids have mastered the art of not scaring them away.

Rice Krispie Treat update: There are still three left, getting stale in their tupperware home. I made a strawberry tart this weekend that was pretty stiff competition.

CIAO! Tracy

Baby Birds

Right outside our front door is a little ledge that the birds have decided is the perfect spot for a nest. One appears there every spring since we moved into the house four years ago. I don't know why the experience has been extra fascinating this year. First we find the little pile of twigs and what-not. Honestly, I don't remember if we saw the Mommy bird much or not before the babies came. It's the babies that have been so engaging. One day we heard them peeping up there (the ledge is pretty high) but they were too small to be seen. We would see the Mommy come and feed them, but you couldn't see it too well as those birdies were just tiny, and like I said, it's up there, the little bird home.

If I am loving this all, you can only imagine how thrilled the little children I care for (and my own two) are. When we hear the peeping we all run over to the front door. I started holding the kids on top of my head (they are actually sitting on my head as I hold them, for maximum height) so they could catch a glimpse. They can really see well when I do that. They love it, and want to be "Closer, closer.......I can see their EYES!" they exclaim. I myself, could never get a good view, for some reason, even standing on a chair. (Which I did when the kids were not around, so as not to give them big ideas!)

Well the birdies are growing up! They are bigger now, and can plainly be seen when the mama comes to feed them. You hear the loud and fast "Peep, peep, peep, peep, peep, peep, peep..." that is four or five birds chirping "Me first, me first, me, me, me, me, ME!" all at the same time. The mama pops her beak into all the birdies' little baby beaks in turn, poke, poke, poke, poke, poke." Usually the feeding is disturbed by one of us running over to observe the action. We startle the birdies and they fly away. Not the baby ones, they clearly can not fly yet. But the two who feed them, who appear to be Mom and Dad. One is grey (I think this is Dad, as he seems to have the less important position) and she whom I see as Mommy, who is grayish with a red chest. Pretty. I figured out today, if when you hear the peeping (they are being fed so much more frequently in the last few days, it seems) you stand quietly, without moving too much, right beside the time-out chair, you can watch the feeding without being noticed.

The coolest part, though, is watching the little ones get ready to fly. Just in the past few days I can see them flapping their wings, getting ready to make their exit. It's exciting. I hope I get to see one of them fly out. So cool.

I'm not normally so interested in animals. I've never been an animal lover, really, not at all. Maybe I've just never had the opportunity to bond with one. Outside of Vengi the cat. Vengi and I never saw eye to eye. We got a dog a year ago, maybe I'm finally opening up to the wonders of the animal kingdom!

CIAO! Tracy

Street festivals: to go or not to go...

What are street festivals, really? Big buying fests, right? You just walk and walk, look at stuff, and buy. As I get older, I realize, not really my scene. For the family lunch (this was for the kids, myself, and Abu), I ordered two hot dogs, two sausage sandwiches, three orders of fries, and two lemonades. When the kind lady asked me for $41 I thought I had heard incorrectly. "$41?!" I repeated back to her. She seemed kind of embarrassed and assured me that yes, that was the price of the street food I'd just ordered. I told her I didn't have $41 in my wallet. I gave her the $25 I had, and returned a bit later with the remaining money, although I know I could have gotten away without paying it. (I know you are cursing me, Mom.) It's just the way I am. Those that know me are not surprised. Did you know my own parents used to tease me by calling me "goody two-shoes" and "Richie Cunningham?" It never bothered me. I am what I am.

Let's figure a total for all we spent, shall we? I allowed my kids one treat each. (That was the part they were really interested in.) Emilia wanted ice cream. (No surprise there. I call Emilia the dairy queen. She can be a pretty picky eater, but if there's milk in it, she will eat it, and she will love it.) We read a book last week that made a reference to a candy apple. Lucas had his heart set on one of those. ANY food that is mentioned in a book or television show, Lucas wants to try it. I enjoy indulging him. He had that candy apple in his hands when we got home from the festival. I went out for a trip to Target and the supermarket, leaving the kids at home. When I got back, the thing was STILL in his hands. The whole apple was still there, and a lot of the candy. He had just been licking it like a lollipop. For some reason, he had covered the whole thing with a paper napkin, which of course had stuck to it. Kids.

Both of those treats cost $3, bringing our total to $47. I wasn't intending on allowing the kids to buy any toys or trinkets, but they spotted these pretty cute umbrellas that looked like big duck heads. I have been wanting to buy them umbrellas. Not really necessary but, well, I don't know, I can kid myself that it's something practical. Useful, there you go. I did make them spend their own money on those, though. (I've started carrying their money around with me. Don't fret, it's not much.) They were $4 each. We had then spent a grand total of $55. The kids did not play a single game. We ate a meal, and bought one small thing for each of the kids. I certainly didn't buy anything for myself. There were lots of cute bags and kids' clothes I'd have liked to buy, but no. $55 was more than I'd intended to spend. I left the festival thinking this was just a big rip-off.

I was discussing all the above at dinner with Claudio. (Daddy had been away for most of the weekend on a man camping trip.) I was kinda summing it all up as not worth it. He asked the kids if they had had fun. "Yeah!" said Lucas. "We got to play that game with the balls!" There had been a toy store that had a little tent with some of their toys. There was a toy where you put the balls into the top and they travel down some tubes or ramps or whatever down to the bottom. Then you put them in the top again and watch them go down again. We had sat there for maybe 15 minutes while the kids played with it. Emilia mentioned some game she had played with Alexander, her friend that had come with us. I didn't pay for any games, I have no idea what she was talking about. Maybe she was playing this game, whatever it was, while I was getting more napkins and paying off my debt with the food lady. This game was what she remembered.

So I guess I have my answer. For the kids, yes, the street festival is worth it, and not necessarily for the things we spent our money on. Maybe we'll eat before coming next year!

CIAO! Tracy

I have three words for you...

Rice Krispie Treats. Have you ever made these? Has it been a long time? Well, as someone that loves to bake and has turned out countless numbers of cakes, cookies, and cupcakes over the years, it amazes me that I have never, until today, made a Rice Krispie Treat. I had it in my mind to make them today, but almost forgot to run to the store yesterday for the ingredients. My kind husband interrupted his dinner (he works late and eats when he gets home at about 10:30) to run with me to the store before it closed for the cereal and marshmallows. Which brings me to the first reason I am going to be singing the praises of these krispie little bars. Making them will normally only involve buying TWO ingredients. The aforementioned cereal, and the kind of gross (in my mind anyhow, my kids would most decidedly disagree) globules we call marshmallows. Really, yuckity yucky on the marshmallows. I could name about 1000 things I'd rather eat, but anyhow...

It is nice to make a homemade treat, don't you think? But how many homemade treats can you whip up without even glancing at an ingredient list to see what you have/need? There is a third ingredient, by the way; it is butter. I am assuming most households have some butter (or margarine which would work just fine, I am sure) on hand. Oh woe is you if you don't have three tablespoons of butter in your house! So the fact that I can, the next time I get the urge to make these gooey treats, simply run to the store and grab two items, is a big seller for me as far as the RKT goes.

Next point. Rice Krispie Treats are good! Now even if you haven't made any, you cannot tell me you've never eaten one, can you? (If not, get ye to the nearest supermarket now, fast, there is still time!) You know you like them. They're really truly yummy delicious. Crispy, gooey, buttery, how can you go wrong?

I'm even going to try to make the point that the RKT is not an unhealthy snack. I must be honest, I take the term "healthy snack" pretty seriously. (If you don't believe me, go sneak a peek in my daughter's Kindergarten snack bag some time!) I am not going to go so far as to bestow the "h" word upon the humble RKT. What I am going to state, simply, is that there are worse things one could eat. Now I did check the Rice Krispie label to discover (not surprisingly) that there is no fiber in the cereal. For you fellow label-readers out there, this one doesn't even get the <> a sweet cereal. The 3T of butter don't count. Sorry, I'm not a butter-phobe. I guess it's my lucky low-cholesterol-producing genes that make me this way, but there you have that. The marshmallows, we know this is the evil part. The final product is something healthier, at the least, than a chocolate bar. (Wait, isn't chocolate considered healthy now? Bad example.) It's not candy. I would have to argue this treat is healthier than most cookies or cake.

Consider the potential. Did you ever wonder what might happen if you swapped out the RK for say Cherrios? Or Wheat Chex? (The latter just happens to be my daughter's favorite cereal. God works in mysterious ways.) You cannot deny the health factor when you look at this subbing angle of the equation. Enough said.

Last point, the treats are shockingly easy to make. I am so accustomed to being patient in waiting for cookies and cakes to bake and cool, I could not believe this was a done deal, and being eaten by yours truly, almost instantaneously! (Don't tell the kids I ate about 4 or 5 to the one I allowed them. Kids don't need to know everything.) No, I mean really easy. I can lay it out for you right here. Melt 10 oz. bag of marshmallows with 3 T butter in microwave for 2-3 minutes. Stir to blend, them stir in 6c of cereal. Plop into a greased 13x8 inch pan. (I have broken down and bought the cooking oil spray. Nice time-saver, worth it, because the greasing of the pan in the old-fashioned Crisco and paper towel way might have been the one step that catapulted this one out of the "incredibly easy" category, kwim?) I got a great tip off the web that one must wet (yes wet) her hands in order to be able to push the glob down into the pan without getting all sticky. That worked like a charm, I tell you!

I should end here. But there is still one more phenomenal aspect of the Sticky Kitties I feel compelled to share. Versatility! I've seen these things made with corn flakes into adorable little Christmas wreaths. You know I'll be doing this with my kids this holiday season! One could add so many twists! Chocolate chips, raisins, nuts, peanut butter was even mentioned in the recipe as a possibility. Upping the health and taste factors all at once! One could color these so many various ways and shape them into almost anything!

Oops sorry, there's more. I made these with my home daycare today. Did I say EASY? The recipe really only involves mixing and pressing the buttons on the microwave. It's not always easy cooking with kids, but they love it so. So you let them do some stirring, some pouring of cupfuls of RK into the bowl, some magical button pressing on the micro. They have legitimately helped you create a treat and you are still sane to enjoy it when it's done! Those who have cooked/baked with kids (and I've had lots of moms admit they are scared to go there) know what I am talking about.

Now, quick, run to the store!

CIAO! Tracy

The Eight Kids who Beat Up their Friend

Did you see this one? You Tube Video? Yeah, it's appalling. The snippets I caught must have been watered down, because it didn't really seem like much of a "beat down" to me. Like I said, I know I only saw part of the video. Then (of course) I had to watch all the You Tube "I Wanna Be a Movie Star" commentators. They just want to be heard, I suppose. But I did not need to spend over an hour on You Tube watching everyone and their brother comment on this story, that's for sure. I need to stick to my one blog a night to stay creative rather than, whatever it is when you watch dopey stuff for too long and then feel stupid.

What stuck with me today after watching all of it was the video of the victim's parents. (In my defense, I *think* I was searching for this as I watched response after response. ;) ) The parents were upset, OF COURSE. They actually seemed calmer than I would have expected. It isn't too hard to imagine what you might be feeling had this happened to YOUR child.

What struck me though, were the father's comments about the Internet and our society being to blame for this incident. He expresses his belief that "My Space is the Anti-Christ for children." Hmm. Uh, if My Space is the ANTI-CHRIST, Sir, may I politely ask why you have been allowing your daughter to be a part of it? I suppose you noticed all the negativity after your daughter became the victim of My Space?"

I understand where this man is coming from, and I know it is a natural inclination to want to place the blame. And there are clearly some serious problems occurring with all this Internet socialization. Heck, there are serious problems everywhere. Our society is getting really messed up, isn't it?

I do have to agree with all those commentators. They all said about the same thing, each in his own way. This is messed up! But it isn't really the fault of the Internet. It would be easy to say it is the fault of the parents. Parents do have a grand responsibility in raising "good kids," and it is my personal opinion that a whole lot of parents are messing up BIG TIME. But you know what? This might sound fruitless, but the parents that don't know how to be parents? They don't know how to be parents because their parents didn't know how to be parents. And so on and so on. I often think about this. When we talk about the "troubled" in our society, it is easy to blame the parents. But you know darn well this stuff trickles down. Bad parents come from bad parents. You know if your Dad beats your Mom and you're neglected, yelled at, and shamed, what do you think you're going to turn around and do to your kids? It's not rocket science. What it is, is the cycle of bad. Instead of pointing fingers we DO need to figure out what can be done to FIX it. It won't be one thing. It will be a million little things. Small and big things, mostly big things, probably. People realizing there is a need and filling it, somehow. People being real. Really helping. Speaking the truth. Dedicating themselves to causes. There are enough of them (causes, that is.) This video appalled a lot of us. Bitching about it is one thing. If it really upsets you, though, DO SOMETHING, right?

CIAO! Tracy

Slice of Life

My daughter is on spring break. Seeing that I run a home daycare and need to work this week, we can't really have the kind of "break" I'd like us to. A few of her friends from school are going to Disney this week- one of them for the second time this year! Needless to say, I'd like to try to make this week special for her however I can. I've got my feelers out for opportunities to enjoy a little out-of-the-ordinary specialness.

Today we had only one child with us, enabling us to take a trip to the park for a prolonged period of time. (There were no nappers in our group.) I love being able to hang out at the park for a good long while. The kids love it so much. The conflicts reduce to almost nil and it seems they could be happy here forever. We stayed nearly 3 (!) hours and were even able to go exploring in the little bit of woods that I "discovered" (I am most decidedly NOT the most observant person, okay) today. Then, as though this weren't enough, my work day ended early, and I decided to take my kids out for pizza.

The small thrills in life are worth everything if you ask me. And going out for pizza is one of them. Add to that the fact that we went to BROOKLYN Pizza. For a transplanted NJ/NYer in NC, this is significant. I'm not going to say the pizza is phenomenal. It is very good, and that's how it should be. If we could get awesome pizza in Wilmington, NC, well, I'm sorry, but it just wouldn't be right, now would it? But being able to visit this little piece of Brooklyn here in my current hometown, so very many miles from the real deal- it's nice. The owners claim "Yes, we're really from Brooklyn" and state they are turning out pizzas "the same way we've been doing it in Brooklyn, New York since 1957." There are pictures on the walls of a little pizza shop that I suppose to be the original "Brooklyn Pizza" from the 50s and 60s. There are also photographs of the Brooklyn Bridge, and various shots of the Brooklyn Dodgers and Ebbets Field. It gives me so much satisfaction to sit in this little shop with my kids (It's quite popular and filled up completely by 6:00pm) amidst all this NY nostalgia. But this is where my story goes even further south than Wilmington.

There was a Yankees sign on one of the walls. Albeit this sign (it was a Yankee Avenue sign) was on the back wall away from all the old school Brooklyn stuff. Still, there it was. I am now going to have to admit that I am not a true baseball fan. I'm more of a theater/ballet/figure skating geeky type. Despite this, I have been raised as a proper METS fan and I KNOW that that Yankee sign does not belong in this restaurant. Dodgers fans become METS fans. This is how it works. The Yankees are not part of the equation. So that sign threw the whole thing off for me.

I should have had the balls to approach someone about all of this: the original Brooklyn restaurant (is it still in open?), the owners of this place, that SIGN. I should have at least given them a chance to explain themselves. I suppose I was afraid to burst my little pleasure bubble. I wanted to believe that the young and happy people serving me were direct descendants of that Italian American dude in the black and white photos standing on Flatbush Ave. in front of the real Brooklyn Pizza. Well for today anyway, my fantasy was left unscathed. My kids and I had yummy pizza washed down with soda, and gumballs from a huge machine for dessert. It wasn't Disney. In a way, it was better.

CIAO! Tracy

I am the Tooth Brushing Nazi.

I've realized this recently. I've always been a bit of a maniac (hmm, there's that word again) about my own teeth brushing. It's not that I'm afraid of the dentist's drill, no, that's not it. It just seems a shame to go through all that drilling and filling mess when you can avoid it with some diligent brushing! I like to be thorough in everything, diligent. Yes, I can veer towards perfectionism, but only in some areas. (Cleanliness of house, not, cleanliness of teeth, a critical matter.) Naturally, I am going to carry this brushing frenzy into the parenting arena. If I'm avoiding my own cavities at all costs, what kind of a lame Mommy would I be to let my beloved little angels fall prey to this awful condition? How could I live with myself knowing one of my children was facing "the drill" when I could have brushed harder, longer, more times... (Mom: I am exaggerating a bit here for the sake of humor. Always keep this concept in mind, Mom, when reading the blog.) So I wonder why my kids go running and screaming when I announce it is time for the little white wonders to be officially CLEANED for the long bacteria-growing night. Once I have them dragged to the bathroom and strapped down, the fun can begin. Shockingly, I have begun allowing my six year old to brush her OWN teeth. With my careful (tyrannical) supervision, of course. "Keep brushing, honey, okay, yes, you've got the right angle, now keep at it....count to 100 as you brush that side." "Get the top molars, now, honey. Those aren't your molars, sweetie, that's your tongue....move the brush OVER!!!" "Now the top ones, back and forth, don't forget behind!" I sometimes watch my dazed children following out my dental orders and suddenly feel like a monster. "What am I doing?!" I see myself as the beast I am, these poor kids at the mercy of my crazed self. This doesn't stop me, however. In the beginning, I used to frighten them with visions of the drill. "You don't want to have your teeth drilled with a real DRILL, do you?!" Thankfully, I realized before it was too late (I hope) that despite my frenzied efforts, the possibility of one of my children succumbing to a cavity was, well, possible. Promoting drill fear seemed a bad course. I now explain to them, "If you do not brush well enough, and even sometimes in spite of your high-quality brushing, you might end up with a cavity and need to have your teeth drilled by the dentist. It's not really a big deal, but, well, wouldn't you rather avoid that if you could?" No one has ever accused me of underthinking an issue. And show me a kid who doesn't bear parentally inflicted scars.

CIAO! Tracy

Hi Everybody!

I've decided it's time to start a blog. I spend way too much time online chatting it up and (lately) maniacally perusing food blogs. Something has to change. I think I finally "get" the blog thing, and have decided to take the plunge. I wonder if I can interest anyone other than myself in my ponderings on parenthood, children in general, cooking, cupcakes, home daycare, teaching, education, the news, celebrities, and whatever else. I generally have an opinion on just about everything, so it should be a nice mix-up. I will have to learn to post pictures, I realize. It's embarrassing that I have no clue how to do that. If I knew aanything about the upload/download whatever the heck, I would surely share the video my daughter made of me tonight making chocolate chip cookies from the roll of dough. Or the one of me helping my son brush his teeth. If these topics don't sound compelling, you may not want to visit here again....
CIAO, Tracy