I did some cleaning and laundry recently, and when I put away our kitchen towels, I found something.
The set of napkins and tablecloth we registered for when we got married. The tablecloth is still in the original packaging, and I don't think we've ever used the napkins either. I also have a full set of china that has never seen the light of day. We registered for many household items on whims, planning to use them in a house we hadn't purchased yet. As usual, things worked out for us, and the towels, dishes, and sheets all matched the home we ended up purchasing and now live in. Probably better than if we'd done it on purpose.
But while I'm very grateful for the generosity we received all those years ago, I am also somewhat embarrassed that I still have unused wedding gifts. We've been married for almost 4 years, so I would think we'd use a tablecloth in that much time! What am I waiting for?! But the truth is, I'm probably saving it until. We have a dining room. Or a table that fits the table cloth. Or any number of other ideas. I'm certainly not alone in this.
I've done this in the past too, saving stickers back in middle school when stickers were the thing to collect. My favorite shirts were saved up for that special day when they could come out of the closet. Of course, many of those stickers and shirts went unused and unworn, dried up or too small by the time the perfect day came around.
So its time to use the finest and nicest, instead of waiting for the "right" day, mood, party, etc, etc, etc.
Go ahead, break out your China! You're worth it!
sky's the limit
"And you? When will you begin that long journey into yourself?" - Rumi
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
For happiness, just add dirt
The longer One Philly Daddy and I are parents, the more our parenting philosophy becomes clear to me. Somethings are a bit of a surprise of me, in that I'd never considered some aspects of parenthood, not so much that I expected to feel differently.
I wasn't raised to be wary of germs, and some of our best times involved streams, mud, dirt, trees, sticks, leaves, climbing, etc.
So I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise that I've concluded "A Dirty Kid is a Happy Kid."
Since I've been home full time recently and the weather has been warmer and nicer, we've been outside a lot more. Recently (sadly, my last post) I confronted One Philly Son wanting to play outside in what is essentially, our dogs' potty. Yesterday I was confronted with this once again.
One Philly Son LOVES to be outside. He whines at the doors to go outside often, and I can tell he's just thrilled to be outside whenever we're outside, whether its a walk, the playground, or throwing a ball off the porch. (Which is especially fun for One Philly Daddy and I since we do not live on a flat street and end up chasing said ball. Sigh.) He loves it. I've been visiting one of the three playgrounds within walking distance of my house every day that the weather cooperates, but it doesn't always work out. One Philly Son sometimes falls asleep on the walk to the park and the other times he falls asleep on the swings, ruining play time AND his nap schedule. Beyond that, it can get to be a drag to have to pack a diaper bag, snacks, sunscreen and lug the stroller.
Plus, One Philly Daddy spent a lot of time and effort last year commandeering various play things from Craigslist and the like to set up the perfect outdoor play area for One Philly Son. We have a small slide, 2 swings, picnic table and sand box. To top it all off, One Philly Daddy ordered a custom sign to hang over our door announcing that the backyard is One Philly Son's "Playground". Way too much love and effort went into that yard for it to go to waste because of a little dirt!
So, dog poop notwithstanding, I want to spend as much time in our yard as humanly possible. And I'd like it to be the most enjoyable and usable for One Philly Son. Which means, I imagine I'll be doing a quick poop run every day that the weather will allow One Philly Son to play outside. A small price to pay for the joy it brings him.
Today, we were playing outside when One Philly Son remembered the hose (yesterday while he played, I did some yard work, attempting to clear plants, poop and other unmentionables that inhibit his play), and stood under the dripping hose "washing" rocks and pieces of mulch. He'd already played in his sandbox, so adding water was a messy proposition.
And then I did something crazy. I called One Philly Daddy who was on his way home from work, and he picked up a small inflatable pool for One Philly Son so he could REALLY play with water.
Between the water, sand, dirt, dogs, pollen, mulch, and Cheerio snack (lovingly provided by me, and happily dumped into the pool by One Philly Son) we had quite a mess going.
But I can't stand to stand in the way of the moment when One Philly Son fills a cup of water and splashes his own face, realizing "hey! this thing holds water!" or the moment he sticks a sandy hand in the pool and realizes "this stuff washes off!" or the first moment he successfully steps over the edge of the pool without help and looks up with the "WOW, did you see THAT?!" look on his face.
More of a wonder is that watching One Philly Son has brought back some long buried but happy memories from my childhood about the wonder and glee of exploration and adventure and imagination.
Maybe a dirty kid is a happy Mommy?
I wasn't raised to be wary of germs, and some of our best times involved streams, mud, dirt, trees, sticks, leaves, climbing, etc.
So I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise that I've concluded "A Dirty Kid is a Happy Kid."
Since I've been home full time recently and the weather has been warmer and nicer, we've been outside a lot more. Recently (sadly, my last post) I confronted One Philly Son wanting to play outside in what is essentially, our dogs' potty. Yesterday I was confronted with this once again.
One Philly Son LOVES to be outside. He whines at the doors to go outside often, and I can tell he's just thrilled to be outside whenever we're outside, whether its a walk, the playground, or throwing a ball off the porch. (Which is especially fun for One Philly Daddy and I since we do not live on a flat street and end up chasing said ball. Sigh.) He loves it. I've been visiting one of the three playgrounds within walking distance of my house every day that the weather cooperates, but it doesn't always work out. One Philly Son sometimes falls asleep on the walk to the park and the other times he falls asleep on the swings, ruining play time AND his nap schedule. Beyond that, it can get to be a drag to have to pack a diaper bag, snacks, sunscreen and lug the stroller.
Plus, One Philly Daddy spent a lot of time and effort last year commandeering various play things from Craigslist and the like to set up the perfect outdoor play area for One Philly Son. We have a small slide, 2 swings, picnic table and sand box. To top it all off, One Philly Daddy ordered a custom sign to hang over our door announcing that the backyard is One Philly Son's "Playground". Way too much love and effort went into that yard for it to go to waste because of a little dirt!
So, dog poop notwithstanding, I want to spend as much time in our yard as humanly possible. And I'd like it to be the most enjoyable and usable for One Philly Son. Which means, I imagine I'll be doing a quick poop run every day that the weather will allow One Philly Son to play outside. A small price to pay for the joy it brings him.
Today, we were playing outside when One Philly Son remembered the hose (yesterday while he played, I did some yard work, attempting to clear plants, poop and other unmentionables that inhibit his play), and stood under the dripping hose "washing" rocks and pieces of mulch. He'd already played in his sandbox, so adding water was a messy proposition.
And then I did something crazy. I called One Philly Daddy who was on his way home from work, and he picked up a small inflatable pool for One Philly Son so he could REALLY play with water.
Between the water, sand, dirt, dogs, pollen, mulch, and Cheerio snack (lovingly provided by me, and happily dumped into the pool by One Philly Son) we had quite a mess going.
But I can't stand to stand in the way of the moment when One Philly Son fills a cup of water and splashes his own face, realizing "hey! this thing holds water!" or the moment he sticks a sandy hand in the pool and realizes "this stuff washes off!" or the first moment he successfully steps over the edge of the pool without help and looks up with the "WOW, did you see THAT?!" look on his face.
More of a wonder is that watching One Philly Son has brought back some long buried but happy memories from my childhood about the wonder and glee of exploration and adventure and imagination.
Maybe a dirty kid is a happy Mommy?
Monday, April 4, 2011
Mommying where the poop meets the playground
What a day!
The sun is shining again here, and One Philly Son loves, loves, loves to go outside to play.
As a matter of fact, we have a playset, picnic table, swing and slide set up for him in the yard. I want him to play outside. I know exploring his world is a crucial and exciting experience for him.
On the other hand, we have two dogs who see the yard as their, well, potty.
Enter internal debate #1. To play or not to play? Well, I went with play, and hovered over One Philly Son to try to avert any collisions with doggy poo landmines. (One Philly Daddy did a pick up yesterday, but toddlers seem drawn to the one thing you hope they don't find.)
One Philly Son loved being outside. He drug the rake around, laughed at the dogs, threw a ball,and yes, walked directly into a densley populated poo depository.
Internal debate #2. Cut short play time or manage the poo situation? I decided to manage the poo. Out came a plastic bag, and the poo scoop and shovel. Which was tricky because One Philly Son loves all things grown up cleaning related. So while I scooped I kept up a steady stream of "don't touch that" and "icky" and we luckily avoided THAT mess. He continued to play and have a great time.
Then he heard the trash trucks out front and went to investigate.
Internal debate #3. I spotted some neighbors and kids playing down the street and had to decide whether or not to wander down the street, knowing One Philly Son would head straight there. The debate was entirely motivated by the fact that I hadn't showered and had just thrown sweatpants over my jammies to head out to play. Sigh. I must be a sucker, cause down the hill we went. Again, he had a great time.
Once playtime was over, we headed home. Internal debate #4. I wanted to give One Philly Son a bath since he'd been in Poo Palace Playland, but also needed a shower myself. So what to do? Shower while he fusses? Bathe him and hope I'm clean from our play outside? (to be clear, he only stepped in one small poo and had just the tiniest bit on the sole of his shoe. But since I had to carry him, and he often gets down to crawl/climb on things, I really wasn't sure where exactly that sole had been.)
So I did the most effective, safest, fastest thing I could think of. Drew a bath and plopped the both of us in there.
By this time, One Philly Son is getting really really tired and cranky. He'd had an eventful Sunday, and played hard all morning. #5. Lunch then nap or nap then lunch? I threw together a quick lunch, which he ate enough of, and promptly nodded off in his booster seat. So off to nap he goes.
In the midst of this one of my most prolific poop producers shred a pillow on the spare bedroom, presumably because I wouldn't let him off the lead while we were in the yard. Trust me, this dog can be quite deliberate in his spite. So that was another debate. What are we up to, 6? To blow up at the dog, clean up the mess or carry on with my bath, lunch, nap routine? I went with the latter.
I'm working hard to accept that much of my day is not under my control. I can influence certain things and control my reactions, but that is really all I can do. While in our yard my critical eye and mind made a mind-numbing list of to-do's. Flower pots and boxes, weeding, raking and on and on. I asked that voice to just shush a minute so I could enjoy my son laughing at the dog. My grossed out self wanted to be irritated, angry and fed up about the poop. I focused on seeing the value of the play, reminding myself there's poop in everyone's (metaphoric) yard, so it's not so much about being upset about the poop as it is just doing your best to play around the poop.
As we speak a pile of dirty play clothes are laying on my kitchen floor where I stripped us as soon as we came in from the yard,the guts of a pillow are piled on my guest bed, a half eaten lunch sits on my counter.
I'm so glad I'm learning to play around the poo.
The sun is shining again here, and One Philly Son loves, loves, loves to go outside to play.
As a matter of fact, we have a playset, picnic table, swing and slide set up for him in the yard. I want him to play outside. I know exploring his world is a crucial and exciting experience for him.
On the other hand, we have two dogs who see the yard as their, well, potty.
Enter internal debate #1. To play or not to play? Well, I went with play, and hovered over One Philly Son to try to avert any collisions with doggy poo landmines. (One Philly Daddy did a pick up yesterday, but toddlers seem drawn to the one thing you hope they don't find.)
One Philly Son loved being outside. He drug the rake around, laughed at the dogs, threw a ball,and yes, walked directly into a densley populated poo depository.
Internal debate #2. Cut short play time or manage the poo situation? I decided to manage the poo. Out came a plastic bag, and the poo scoop and shovel. Which was tricky because One Philly Son loves all things grown up cleaning related. So while I scooped I kept up a steady stream of "don't touch that" and "icky" and we luckily avoided THAT mess. He continued to play and have a great time.
Then he heard the trash trucks out front and went to investigate.
Internal debate #3. I spotted some neighbors and kids playing down the street and had to decide whether or not to wander down the street, knowing One Philly Son would head straight there. The debate was entirely motivated by the fact that I hadn't showered and had just thrown sweatpants over my jammies to head out to play. Sigh. I must be a sucker, cause down the hill we went. Again, he had a great time.
Once playtime was over, we headed home. Internal debate #4. I wanted to give One Philly Son a bath since he'd been in Poo Palace Playland, but also needed a shower myself. So what to do? Shower while he fusses? Bathe him and hope I'm clean from our play outside? (to be clear, he only stepped in one small poo and had just the tiniest bit on the sole of his shoe. But since I had to carry him, and he often gets down to crawl/climb on things, I really wasn't sure where exactly that sole had been.)
So I did the most effective, safest, fastest thing I could think of. Drew a bath and plopped the both of us in there.
By this time, One Philly Son is getting really really tired and cranky. He'd had an eventful Sunday, and played hard all morning. #5. Lunch then nap or nap then lunch? I threw together a quick lunch, which he ate enough of, and promptly nodded off in his booster seat. So off to nap he goes.
In the midst of this one of my most prolific poop producers shred a pillow on the spare bedroom, presumably because I wouldn't let him off the lead while we were in the yard. Trust me, this dog can be quite deliberate in his spite. So that was another debate. What are we up to, 6? To blow up at the dog, clean up the mess or carry on with my bath, lunch, nap routine? I went with the latter.
I'm working hard to accept that much of my day is not under my control. I can influence certain things and control my reactions, but that is really all I can do. While in our yard my critical eye and mind made a mind-numbing list of to-do's. Flower pots and boxes, weeding, raking and on and on. I asked that voice to just shush a minute so I could enjoy my son laughing at the dog. My grossed out self wanted to be irritated, angry and fed up about the poop. I focused on seeing the value of the play, reminding myself there's poop in everyone's (metaphoric) yard, so it's not so much about being upset about the poop as it is just doing your best to play around the poop.
As we speak a pile of dirty play clothes are laying on my kitchen floor where I stripped us as soon as we came in from the yard,the guts of a pillow are piled on my guest bed, a half eaten lunch sits on my counter.
I'm so glad I'm learning to play around the poo.
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