The Art Table

Ella working hard at her art table in the dining room

There are a lot of things about parenting for which I have no idea if I'm doing the right thing.  One thing that I do think I've done right, though, is to give a large portion of my dining room over to Ella's art corner. 

When I was pregnant with Ella and in her early infancy, I entertained fantasies about how my house wouldn't be taken over by kid stuff.  I thought I could neatly tuck away every last toy, blanket, and diaper so that my living spaces at least, would never look like the inside of a Babies R Us. 

Then of course Ella got bigger and the tiny rattles morphed into play kitchens, and the one little lovey became a gaggle of a dozen large stuffed animals.  I kept buying more and bigger crates and bins to contain the STUFF, but eventually I admitted defeat.   Within 0.2 seconds of walking into our house, you will know that children live here. 

And then there are the art supplies.  I don't know if all children share Ella's proclivity for art projects, but what began as a small box of crayons and some paper has become massive piles of markers, colored pencils, play-doh, construction paper, glue sticks, scissors, chalkboards, paint sets, and more.  Early on, probably before she turned two, we invested in a small wooden table and chairs for her.  We got them at a local wood furniture store, had them stained the color of our dining room furniture where they were put in the back corner, and for a time, I continued to operate in my fantasy world where they would be a barely noticeable bit of kid-dom in our otherwise grown-up (and only) dining space.

Quickly, though, we realized that Ella LOVED her art table.  The art table was joined by a large easel for chalk, painting, and coloring on a huge roll of white paper.  A set of shelves was installed to contain the supplies.   And truly, more than anywhere else in the house, Ella occupies herself for long stretches of time at the art table.  Rather than try to limit her ever-expanding supplies, I have given in to the belief that the never-ending piles of colored paper and hundreds of marker colors are imagination boosters.  She will sometimes take 30 pieces of paper and draw the same shape on each one.  One little circle, over and over.  Is this a waste of paper?  Should I be encouraging her to conserve her resources?  Maybe.  But I like to see how her brain works and I think those repetitive pictures must be her version of practice-makes-perfect for new letters and shapes.

She draws elaborate pictures these days to send to her friends and family far away.  She makes all sorts of food out of play-doh (she recently made me pretend to eat a whole mess of carrots made out of orange and green play-doh.  Does she actually eat carrots?  What do you think?).  Guests to our house are often found sitting in the little chairs engaged in an Ella-directed painting project or sticker extravaganza.

There have been art table fails, too, of course. There was a day fairly recently when Ella and two of her buddies were quietly playing at the art table while the moms were chatting in the living room. After awhile, one mama jumped up and ran into the dining room. She said later that she heard the silence and knew it couldn’t mean anything good.  She was right.  The quiet kids had been quietly drawing on the dining room walls with markers, an activity Ella had never done by herself but was perfectly happy to engage in with her friends. Ah, the negative power of peer pressure.  As an aside,  I would like to say a public thank you to Crayola for making washable markers.

Overall, though, I think the opportunity for endless creativity, developing fine motor coordination, and self-directed play have made the Art Table, no the Art Corner, no, really, the Art Room, a success in my parenting book.

Just before her second birthday, Ella plays with playdoh on the uncluttered art table

Making elaborate Valentines for out-of-town friends and family

Big people in little chairs

Fortunately last summer's gluestick obsession has subsided somewhat

Mama friends

Last week I wrote about the trauma of Ella's first ballet class.  I am working up the emotional fortitude to write about the second week.  I'm not sure whether there will be a third or fourth week.  But that's for another post.

Tonight, I'm thinking about how amazingly grateful I am for my fellow Mama friends.  I am lucky, so very lucky, to have many friends who are amazing mothers, and I learn so many things about parenting from all of them every single day.  After all the ballet angst of late, I desperately needed someone to help me decide what to do next.  Fortunately, after my book club gathering tonight, I walked out with a few of my dearest mama friends and within moments of standing together in the darkened suburban street, I had been regaled with multiple stories of other children having similar challenges with dance class, swim lessons, music class, and a soccer team.   It took only a minute for me to unload the basic details of my situation and only moments for my friends to respond with everything I needed - validation on the emotional challenge, personal anecdotes of similar situations with positive endings, and some really helpful practical advice.  I wanted to dance under the streetlight. "I am not alone in finding it hard to navigate a shy child's interaction with the world! We will get through this and Ella will not sit on the sidelines of life and cry for the rest of her life! I need to go home and Google 'Exposure Therapy'!" As I drove home, I felt lighter than I've felt in a week.

Thank you, Mama friends, near and far.  I am so grateful for you all.

Ella enjoys

This morning, Ella sat down at the dining room table and said "Dada, yesterday for breakfast I enjoyed cheerios, a napkin, raisins, and cream cheese.  I'd like that again today please."

There are so many things I love about these sentences.  First, her use of "enjoyed".  Second, her listing of a napkin as the second-most important component of breakfast.  And third, her excellent manners.  Watching her language develop over the past two years has been one of the most fun parts of parenthood.

Peppery Cake Salt

In the bath the other night, Ella was carefully measuring out small cupfuls of water and pouring them into a big boat.  As she measured and poured, she gave me the recipe for the dish she was cooking.  I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled it down because it was the kind of recipe only a little kid can come up with.  In case you want to make Peppery Cake Salt, here's how you do it:

Ingredients:

Four and a half pinches of salt
One half baking sugar
Two pepper
A little more baking sugar
A few scoops of rice makes it really good

Bake 45 minutes at a really cold temperature but when it's done in the oven, it'll be a little warmer.

Vegetables revisited

We have been trying really hard to have family dinners as many nights as we can.   Last night, I made roasted salmon, roasted diced sweet potatoes, and sauteed spinach.   After inquiring about the night's menu, Ella told me with great enthusiasm that she "loves sweet potatoes!"  And indeed, she did eat a pretty good serving of them and only asked for ketchup twice.  That's a vegetable win in my book.  

Tonight, though, we had salad as our vegetable and there was an actual meltdown about the lettuce even going onto her plate.  I guess you win some, you lose some, especially when it comes to willful three-year olds and green stuff.

But, hey, check out the baby and his fave new toy.  At least one of my kids likes vegetables these days:

Morning Pleasantries

With a three-year old, I am finding there is no such thing as morning pleasantries.  When Ella wakes up, she sits in her bed calling "Mommy, Daddy, I'm awake now!"  She says this over and over, at an increasingly loud volume, until one of us appears in her room (With a cup of milk in hand.  We are so breaking that habit in the next kid much earlier).

When we come into her room, there is no "Good morning, Mommy!"  "How are you today?"  "Did you sleep well?"  Morning pleasantries are lost on Ella.  But her first words each day are usually pretty entertaining.  Some recent examples....

This morning, she said to me "Do we have any eggs? Can we make deviled eggs? I'll only eat the white parts." (So much for the deviling).

When Josh got Ella up yesterday, the first words out of her mouth were "Daddy, can I help you put away the dishes?"   I'll take this one.  If she wakes up and asks to do her laundry, I'll bring her a cup of milk in bed until she's 12.

In response to my query about whether she slept well, Ella recently shook her head, frowned and said "No, my babies kept woking me up."  I believe she was talking about her stuffed animals.

I hosted my book club a few weeks ago and I served cupcakes from our favorite local bakery for dessert.  I had a dozen cupcakes and wasn't sure how many friends were coming, so the night of book club, I told Ella that she could have a cupcake in the morning if there were any left.  The next morning, I went in to Ella's room to get her up and she asked me immediately "Mommy, are there are any cupcakes left?"  I wonder if she thought about them all night long.  I can't blame her on this one.  I probably would have done the same thing if someone promised me a cupcake in the morning.

Dance class FAIL

For weeks, months really, Ella has been talking about how much she wants to take a dance class.  She watches the Dora ballet class episode almost daily.  She calls every dress a dancing dress.  She spins and twirls and leaps and (tries to) balance on one leg at every opportunity.

So being a Type A kind of mom, I researched all of the dance studios in town.  I made a spreadsheet with class times, distance to our house, cost, and my perception of the vibe of the school.  I agonized over how long of a commitment to make (a month, a semester?) and once I finally picked a school, I agonized over what ballet outfits to get for Ella.  Should I get her tights?   Ballet shoes?  How many tutus (clearly, she would need tutus!)?  Oh, the hours I spent thinking about this.

We have talked about dance class for weeks now.  Finally, today, the first class rolls around and we seem to be off to a good start.  Ella is super excited about her new leotard and her new tutu.  She demonstates less clinginess than usual when we get to the studio.  I leave her in a little circle with the other tutu-clad three-year olds listening to Teacher Danielle read a story about Angelina Ballerina.  I wait in the tiny lobby with 10 other moms for a good five minutes, peeking in the window every now and then.  Ella seems great.  The school encourages us to go browse along Ninth Street until class is over.

So hooray!  45 minutes to take a walk with Dash!  Since the dance school is on the second floor of an old building (no elevator), I've brought him into the studio in the Ergo baby carrier.  I run down to the car, change out the Ergo for a stroller, and start walking.  20 minutes in, I'm hot and sweaty but feeling good.  Exercise for me!  Mommy-time for Dash!  Ballet fun for Ella!

And then my cell phone rings.

Caller ID says it is the dance studio.

This can't be good news.

The receptionist tells me that Ela has come out class and "misses me".  I promise to be back in 5 minutes.  Dash and I run back to the studio, stop at the car to take apart and load the stroller back in the car, put him back in the Ergo (good times in 90 degrees, under time pressure) and race back up to the studio.  I walk in, sweating and out of breath, to find a crying Ella surrounded by the 10 good moms who didn't leave the studio after all.

All I can think is Epic FAIL.  Dance class was a FAIL.  I am a FAIL as a mother for leaving.  and I am probably a FAIL as a mother for raising the only three-year old in town who can't last through one 50 minute ballet class.

Ella cries, I rack my brain trying to decide what to do.  Should we leave?  Go back in the classroom?  Just sit in the lobby?  I spend 5 minutes talking to Ella, the other mothers kindly averting their eyes (but surely not their ears) from my blubbering speeches to Ella about dance class being a special fun time for little girls, how mommy is sorry that she wasn't in the lobby when Ella needed her, stammer, stammer, stammer, beg, beg, beg.

Finally, Ella agrees to go back in the studio if I will go with her.  We sit on the side for the last 15 minutes while we watch Teacher Danielle lead the other girls through delightful routines of growing flowers, robot dances, and finally, the perfect ending to every preschool class, the doling out of stickers.

On the way home, we have a long talk about how things will go next week.  Ella will stay in the classroom during class.  I will stay in the lobby so she knows I am nearby. I have no idea if this will work

Before we left the studio, I texted Josh and asked him to have a cold beer waiting for me when I walk in the door.  I downed it in about 30 seconds. 

Here's hoping next week is better.

 On the way to dance class.  So much excitement. Sigh.