I Must Know It ALL Now: or, Why? Who? What? Where? How? When?

I have anticipated this moment for years. Daydreamed about the smart, balanced and witty responses I would give when my girl got to this age. How we would sit together in front of the computer and look up answers to all those elusive questions, like “Do sharks have ears?” (We looked that one up last night). The science experiments we would perform in the kitchen to discover what happens when you mix yellow and blue, or you stick a magnet in water. Kids should ask questions, and I want(ed) to give her the honest, thought-provoking answers her little mind wants, needs, and deserves. (You’d think after 3 years I’d have lost that idealist tendency.)

I’ve also dreaded the constant flow of questions. You know, the 15 that come flooding out of her mouth before I’ve had breakfast (idealist tendencies fade drastically at 6am). Especially the ones that repeat and have no purpose – “Mom, why didn’t you let me wear a dress at school pictures?” As with all aspects of life, there can be too much of a good thing. I love her curiosity. I love that she’s  stubborn,  opinionated, and feisty as well as being gentle, loving, and helpful. That is, I love it in the right mixture. When all I get is the first three along with a lot of questions and demands I get, as my girl says, “cranky.”

The other day was the perfect example of why I love and hate this phase.

Towhead and I were leaving swim lessons when Mr. A called. We were both tired and decided to splurge for the first time in over a month and go out to eat. After getting in the car, I told Towhead we were off to meet Dad for Mexican food.

“What that sticking out of that car?” she asked. Huh? Subject change. OK.

“That? That’s a tailpipe sweetie.” I shut the door and get in the car.

“But why is it there?” she continues.

“It lets out all the bad smoke from the engine.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise the car would blow up.”

“But that car doesn’t have one,” she points out as we drive through the parking lot.

“Yes it does.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Yes. It does. All cars have them. You may not be able to see it because it’s hiding under the bumper, but it’s there.”

“No it’s not.”

“Sure it is. I’ll show you when we get to the restaurant. There look at the car next to us. See that pipe sticking out the side. Right next to you. That’s it’s tailpipe.”

“Oh. But our car doesn’t have one.”

“Yes. It does,” I say trying not to grit my teeth. “Want me to show you when we get to the restaurant?”

“Sure. Can I have chicken fingers?”

“I’m not sure they have chicken fingers. But we’ll check on the menu and see what they’ve got. Maybe rice and beans.”

“What’s a menu?”

“The thing that lists all the food you can get at the restaurant.”

“Mama, there’s my moon!”

“Yup.”

“It’s a half-circle. How come it’s not a circle?”

I launched into the hole schpeel about how the sun and earth move and that changes how much of the moon you can see. It’s always a circle you just can’t always see it all. I should mention that I’ve given this speech at least 5 or 6 times already. Also, keep in mind that this was only the first two minutes of a 5-minute long car ride. Questions continued rapid-fire and in totally random order. And even after that I spent a minute or two in the parking lot proving to her that yes, each car has a tailpipe but that they’re sometimes in different locations on the car.

I”m not sure how long I can keep it up. The good news is that I prepared for some of this years ago when I bought the Handy Science Answer Book. That and the web make answering random questions a lot easier. I just don’t think I was anticipating that all those questions would come at me in such a rapid fire fashion. Or that she would argue with me about the answers I give her!! I shouldn’t say anything (insert my mom’s laughter here) because I know I did the same thing to my mother. She’s learning and right now her own experience, limited though it may be, is as powerful as anything I say. Damn her for being as stubborn and feisty as her mother!

Mr. A, being the youngest of three, has a great sense of humor over things like this. A sadistic sense of humor, but funny nonetheless. I must learn this skill. I get too sucked in and actually try to answer all her questions.  Because I love to teach, I love to see the lightbulbs go on. I realize now that much of that will never change. The world is an amazing place and I want nothing more than to continue to explore it with her, and show her all it has to offer. But I’ve also noticed recently that I’m beginning, in my tired, working mom world to take it too seriously.

No more. The boxing gloves are off and the whoopie cushions are out, baby.

Who knew we’d buy a new canoe?

Here’s a brief photo essay of what we’ve been up to the last few weeks:

A few weeks ago the Shrine Circus was in town. We decided to go the day of, and I’m glad we did. It brought back so many memories of going to see the circus with my Papa, who is a Shriner. As an adult I was afraid I wouldn’t like it – that it wouldn’t be as thrilling,  that I would see was the exploitation of people and animals. To my delight that is not what I saw. It was fantastic and a ton of fun! And yes, Towhead and I got to ride the elephant.

Towhead’s school hosted a “Mother’s Day Tea” on Friday. All the moms came for lunch and the kids were waiting for us with handmade gifts. I’ve never done anything like this before. If Towhead ever made me a gift I usually was the one to decide what it was and help her put it together. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing I like more than designing a craft project for her and letting her go to work. But this was awfully nice! The screaming fit she threw as I left (in her two months at school this is the first one ever) kinda put a damper on things though.

Mother’s Day weekend couldn’t have been better. We had friends over for homemade clamchowder, and played cards until late. Sunday Mr. A and CT made me pancakes and we took a bike ride. As if these weren’t enough, there was the  unexpected surprise of finding a canoe for sale that we could afford!The plan is to test it out next weekend. I’m vibrating in anticipation. All three of us loved the canoe trip we took last summer and have been looking for a canoe to buy ever since. This is the new baby, a 15 ft Coleman:

And then there’s the tulips that have been brightening my mornings.

Stick to What you Know

OK, so I haven’t quite kept up with my promise to blog more often. The truth is there are tons of things I’m interested in and want to comment on: the tragedy of Afghan girls being sprayed with acid for trying to attend school, the idiocy of Fox News reporters who compared global warming to their thyriod problem, my outrage at doctors who help a single mom give birth to 8 more kids she can’t support while we admonish developing nations like India to hand out birth control and reign in their rampant population growth. I’m at no loss of things to say, but I lack the time for  the research and reflection I want to back up my opinion. So I’ve decided instead of feeling inadequate that I cannot add political commentator to my already long list of jobs, I’ll write more about what I’ve been occupying my time doing, learning, and refining these past few months. Yep, you guessed it: domestic shit. But hey, aren’t we all domestic beings at one time or another?

I’ll start with crafts. For Christmas I decided to make lacing cards for my niece and CT. They were surprising easy. I pasted pictures onto a lightweight cardboard, put contact paper on both sides, and punched holes in the card. Plastic tapestry needles tied to a long bit of yarn were the finishing touch.

We had some cloth bags in the closet that our sheets came in. These worked great to keep everything contained.

 

I also spent quite a bit of time over the holidays knitting. I made scarf for Mr. A’s sister. I learned how to knit from a wonderful friend of mine in early 2005.  At the time I was on fire; I couldn’t sit still. There was so much I wanted to do and to accomplish. Mr. A was out in the field, tracking sage grouse, and I had made an abitious list of goals to keep my mind off the fact that I missed him. It backfired. I ended up with a sinus infection, but even then I couldn’t stop. I barely had the energy to walk from the sofa to the kitchen, but I remember setting a lawnchair next to the garden so I could weed and plant for a couple minutes at a time.  I felt like an old woman who was determined to live with a vengance even though my body couldn’t keep up. Knitting saved me. It gave me something to focus on while my body was allowed to rest. I’m normally not that driven; I know when to rest. But that point in time was an anomoly.

My knitting hasn’t progressed much beyond hats and scarves. More complicated pieces are hard with a kid running around. But it still helps me relax. And I guess I just like making things – whether it’s writing, cooking, drawing, or crafty stuff, I like to create. Anyway, this is the latest completed project.

 

For the next post I’ll probably be in the kitchen, the place my research, our lifestyle, and our stomachs keep leading me back to.

Things that make you feel like a bad mom. . .

or things that simply make you realize that you have a two-year-old. And kids this age do weird and funny things.

Like when I turn your back at the gym to put my shirt in a locker. This takes a total of 3 seconds (I later timed it). When I heard a bang and did an about face, Crazy Towhead was nowhere to be found. The thoughts that cross my mind in following seconds range fairly predictably from “where’d she go now?” to “OMG, did someone grab her.” But before panic sets in I hear more banging and a small voice singing gleefully. Where was she, you might ask? She had shut herself in one of the floor length lockers.  

Next. Walking out the parking lot. I place my backpack in the front seat. I turn around and a playful Towhead is hemming and hawing on the grass. “Come on girl. We’re gonna go home and get lunch.” She continues to swing her hips and avoid looking directly at me. “Now.” I begin to open the car door, ready to insist even more stringently when Towhead darts toward the car. And like a bull in the ring, rams her nose directly into the object in front of her. Ouch. If only I had waited to open the door, I think while she whimpers and grabs her nose. Or perhaps I should say, if only she wasn’t so bullheaded.