The Blitz is warming up over here. You may not have noted it, but it is true that the entire Dutch branch of this family was born in the fall or winter. The Blitz, then, starts with Douwe's birthday in October. We move on to St. Nicholas in November, then Paul's birthday, then Christmas, then Daan's and Nel's birthday* and then Ernests's birthday.
So my children will forever associate gift related holidays with being cold? I dunno. But the former days of having Douwe's birthday party out of doors are, I think, gone forever unless we move again. >shudder<.
This year we are planning a party for Douwe's birthday elsewhere, at a local play place. We have the same problem as last year, to wit: it's a new school and he has not really had time to sort out which kids are which. So he just wants to invite the whole class. Less extravagant heads have prevailed, and we are not inviting the whole class. I think in the end we will probably have about eight or nine kids (but I have invitations for fifteen, lol). The other problem is that his birthday falls during the fall vacation, and I have no idea how many people will be out of town for that.
He wants a Superman costume, which I apparently am going to have to make, as Superman is not really hot here and I cannot find one to buy. He also wants a Batman costume, (and Daan of course immediately declared that he wants Robin) but I think they will have to wait until St. Nicholas (well, there is an upside to all these holidays coming together as well). I expect Batman and Robin will also be going to Carnaval, so I had better remember to make them long sleeved, lol.
In any event, I suppose I am going to have to dust off my costuming and prop skills, warm up the sewing machine, and go to work. That's the nice thing about skills, I suppose, they are ultimately rarely wasted. Anyone with any clever ideas about how to make the "s" on superman's shirt moveable, let me know, that's Douwe's latest idea. He wants a costume where the "s" can come off and be stuck on other t shirts as superpowers may be required in a context not allowing for the whole costume.
God, what a mommy I have become. Next thing you know I will be trying to make cookies with a big red "S" in the middle.
*Well, Nel has no birthday any more, having given it as a gift to Daan when he was born on the same day. Or at least that's her story. The odd part is, Nel's youngest son was also born on his paternal grandmother's birthday. Seems to be a family problem.
Monday, September 26, 2005
The Best Zoo
The pictures are from the Best zoo. Now, whether it's really the best zoo, I could not say, but it is in Best (which is the name of a town for those not up to punning before your first cup of coffee) and so I suppose they are entitled to the name.
It must be said that the playground at the Best Zoo was its most attractive feature for the children, they were in the zoo part of the park probably an hour but in the playground about three hours. So the pictures are all of the playground, as I figure you have probably seen a camel and a leopard and so on.
It must be said that the playground at the Best Zoo was its most attractive feature for the children, they were in the zoo part of the park probably an hour but in the playground about three hours. So the pictures are all of the playground, as I figure you have probably seen a camel and a leopard and so on.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Douwe's First Tree
I am firmly instructed to publish this picture forthwith. And to inform you that this is Douwe in the first tree he ever climbed by himself, with no help of any kind. Other than Daan cheering him on, that is.
Been to the Hague to visit the...
No, you are right, "Been to London" works better. But I haven't, you know.
Daan took one look at this coach and started squealing about the Queen's pirates. Had no idea he had been studying Ditch history. What they don't teach in preschool nowadays.
Prinsjesdag
On the third Tuesday in September, the Queen gives her State of the Union Address, outlining state policy for the coming year. In Georgia, the most frightening forty days of the year ( the length of a legisslative session) is celebrated by the citizenry locking up their daughters for the duration. In Holland, they go out to wave at the Queen as she rides by in her golden coach to make the speech.
Yes, it's a golden coach, I saw it. I took its picture. There is also a glass coach, but I am unsure whether I saw that.* There were however quite a lot of horses, some of them attached to coaches of various types. Eight of them were attached to the golden coach: I am given to understand that that's how you can tell the Queen is in there. ** If she is not there, it is drawn by six horses. +
We travelled on the train and the tram and the bus, and that was sufficient fun for the boys -- for all of them, we could have turned right back around and gone home and that would have been a Great Day. In fact, we spent probably twice as long in the train and the tram and the bus as we did at the actual event, even counting working our way through the crowd.
Dutch Crowd Behavior is, well, a subject all in itself. Dealing with a Dutch crowd usually involves rather more elbow than I am personally comfortable with. It's just bizzare, how did the residents of the most crowded country in Europe get to be incapable of standing in a line? (Dutch queing goes like this: you stand in line. A dutch guy sort of sidles up in your vicinity and stands sort of roughly next to you. Another one wanders around and works his way in almost but not quite in front. Pretty soon they are all sort of clustered in a gang.)
Why is it so difficult to comprehend that, if you all rush in a body into a train car which just opened, you will wind up pushing the people trying to get off, back on? I think it's the last bastion of their barbarian genes manifesting themselves. It's the only conclusion I can draw. In all other ways the Dutch are mild and rational in manner and even in temperament. In crowds, they just seem to sort of lose their equilibrium and just want to form a pack and go hunting.
After the parade whisked by, we went over to the palace and had a nice cup of coffee. No, just kidding. But both boys declared that this was their intention, after we told them that the building we were going to was the Queen's house. However, they were mollified by a bit of fancy marching in ranks by the palace guard.
I know that I am old now. Because I stood there looking at the palace guard (no fancy ass swords or silly hats here, they carry very businesslike machine guns) and could not stop thinking that at least four of them were far too young to be handling those weapons under any circumstances. They looked hardly old enough to shave to me.
* The glass coach is called that because the carving on the coach is covered in glass. The coach is not, alas, made of glass. The golden coach is also not made of gold I am afraid, though it is gilded wood.
** Well, you can tell she is in there by the hat. Queen Beatrix wears, I have to say, the weirdest hats I have ever seen. She puts the Amen Corner of the local AME Zion to shame, and that's saying something. However, a significant hat correlation is noted by me this year: The ladies attending the big speech in Parliament have taken to also wearing weird hats due to the Queen's known weird hat proclivities. This year, a significant number of them were not wearing hats like the Queen's (which tend to be sort of cakelike and flattish) but were wearing big, floppy ass hats, like Princess Maxima, the daughter in law, wears. Were I a journalist, I would have written a long article speculating that this development signals a switch in loyalties to the next generation as it were. But I am not so I keep all such opinions to myself.
+For a person who has never before actually seen the Royal Progress in the Golden Coach, Nel knows quite a lot about it.
Yes, it's a golden coach, I saw it. I took its picture. There is also a glass coach, but I am unsure whether I saw that.* There were however quite a lot of horses, some of them attached to coaches of various types. Eight of them were attached to the golden coach: I am given to understand that that's how you can tell the Queen is in there. ** If she is not there, it is drawn by six horses. +
We travelled on the train and the tram and the bus, and that was sufficient fun for the boys -- for all of them, we could have turned right back around and gone home and that would have been a Great Day. In fact, we spent probably twice as long in the train and the tram and the bus as we did at the actual event, even counting working our way through the crowd.
Dutch Crowd Behavior is, well, a subject all in itself. Dealing with a Dutch crowd usually involves rather more elbow than I am personally comfortable with. It's just bizzare, how did the residents of the most crowded country in Europe get to be incapable of standing in a line? (Dutch queing goes like this: you stand in line. A dutch guy sort of sidles up in your vicinity and stands sort of roughly next to you. Another one wanders around and works his way in almost but not quite in front. Pretty soon they are all sort of clustered in a gang.)
Why is it so difficult to comprehend that, if you all rush in a body into a train car which just opened, you will wind up pushing the people trying to get off, back on? I think it's the last bastion of their barbarian genes manifesting themselves. It's the only conclusion I can draw. In all other ways the Dutch are mild and rational in manner and even in temperament. In crowds, they just seem to sort of lose their equilibrium and just want to form a pack and go hunting.
After the parade whisked by, we went over to the palace and had a nice cup of coffee. No, just kidding. But both boys declared that this was their intention, after we told them that the building we were going to was the Queen's house. However, they were mollified by a bit of fancy marching in ranks by the palace guard.
I know that I am old now. Because I stood there looking at the palace guard (no fancy ass swords or silly hats here, they carry very businesslike machine guns) and could not stop thinking that at least four of them were far too young to be handling those weapons under any circumstances. They looked hardly old enough to shave to me.
* The glass coach is called that because the carving on the coach is covered in glass. The coach is not, alas, made of glass. The golden coach is also not made of gold I am afraid, though it is gilded wood.
** Well, you can tell she is in there by the hat. Queen Beatrix wears, I have to say, the weirdest hats I have ever seen. She puts the Amen Corner of the local AME Zion to shame, and that's saying something. However, a significant hat correlation is noted by me this year: The ladies attending the big speech in Parliament have taken to also wearing weird hats due to the Queen's known weird hat proclivities. This year, a significant number of them were not wearing hats like the Queen's (which tend to be sort of cakelike and flattish) but were wearing big, floppy ass hats, like Princess Maxima, the daughter in law, wears. Were I a journalist, I would have written a long article speculating that this development signals a switch in loyalties to the next generation as it were. But I am not so I keep all such opinions to myself.
+For a person who has never before actually seen the Royal Progress in the Golden Coach, Nel knows quite a lot about it.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Golden
I have not had anything to say for several days about my offspring. This is because there is nothing to say. They go to school, they come home.
Well, this morning one of them appeared ready to go to school in pajama pants, blue galoshes, a superman t-shirt and a cape. He was persuaded to doff all but the t-shirt as I have had more than enough discussions with school officials about what we should do about my child's extreme weirdness having to do with costuming himself and appearing at school claiming to be various fictional characters.
I mentioned this (not the conversations; the costume) to his teacher today after school. She assumed I talked him out of it because it was too hot for long pants and galoshes and said she hoped he would wear it to school when it cooled off as it would be fun to have superman in the classroom.
I think if we ever move, we will have to commute back to this school, they are so weird they think my kid is normal, lol.
Have I mentioned how much I really like having nothing to say?
It also appears that Daan may be going to the Montessori sooner than expected. They have changed the law dealing with nursery and they are all going to be preschools now, that is, they will be part of the school administration. You are thus supposed to send your child to the preschool associated with the school you will send them to. So he should go to the Montessori preschool.
I decided not to do this, because the new law goes into effect on October 1, and he starts school in January. So he would be changing schools and teachers and little kids in October and then again in January, which made no sense to me. However, we have had a call from the Montessori school suggesting that this may be required -- by the law, not by them. (Unless I just lie and say I have not decided where to send him, which did not apparently occur to anyone as a possibility. I love honest people, not being one).
However, they appear to be simply making a "group 0" which would be added to the present group 1/2 -- same teachers, same classroom. If this is how it works, I don't think it makes any difference whether he starts in October or in January.
Next week there is a meeting we are to go to which will allegedly explain all this and the plan they have to handle it. But I cannot help noting that they have a plan, whereas the folks at nursery he is now going to keep telling me they have no idea how this will work as a practical matter.
I do have a strong preference for people who have a plan, even while I cynically doubt the ability of plans to really pan out. And I always have the option of keeping him home for three months, though I don't think he would like it.
But I also am fully aware that if you are three, a mediocre nursery where you love your teachers and have a good time is better than a great nursery where you don't know anybody. At least for two months (December doesn't really count, vacation and all).
Well, this morning one of them appeared ready to go to school in pajama pants, blue galoshes, a superman t-shirt and a cape. He was persuaded to doff all but the t-shirt as I have had more than enough discussions with school officials about what we should do about my child's extreme weirdness having to do with costuming himself and appearing at school claiming to be various fictional characters.
I mentioned this (not the conversations; the costume) to his teacher today after school. She assumed I talked him out of it because it was too hot for long pants and galoshes and said she hoped he would wear it to school when it cooled off as it would be fun to have superman in the classroom.
I think if we ever move, we will have to commute back to this school, they are so weird they think my kid is normal, lol.
Have I mentioned how much I really like having nothing to say?
It also appears that Daan may be going to the Montessori sooner than expected. They have changed the law dealing with nursery and they are all going to be preschools now, that is, they will be part of the school administration. You are thus supposed to send your child to the preschool associated with the school you will send them to. So he should go to the Montessori preschool.
I decided not to do this, because the new law goes into effect on October 1, and he starts school in January. So he would be changing schools and teachers and little kids in October and then again in January, which made no sense to me. However, we have had a call from the Montessori school suggesting that this may be required -- by the law, not by them. (Unless I just lie and say I have not decided where to send him, which did not apparently occur to anyone as a possibility. I love honest people, not being one).
However, they appear to be simply making a "group 0" which would be added to the present group 1/2 -- same teachers, same classroom. If this is how it works, I don't think it makes any difference whether he starts in October or in January.
Next week there is a meeting we are to go to which will allegedly explain all this and the plan they have to handle it. But I cannot help noting that they have a plan, whereas the folks at nursery he is now going to keep telling me they have no idea how this will work as a practical matter.
I do have a strong preference for people who have a plan, even while I cynically doubt the ability of plans to really pan out. And I always have the option of keeping him home for three months, though I don't think he would like it.
But I also am fully aware that if you are three, a mediocre nursery where you love your teachers and have a good time is better than a great nursery where you don't know anybody. At least for two months (December doesn't really count, vacation and all).
Monday, September 05, 2005
Well, that was easy
I am, in fact, the laziest potty-trainer who ever bore children. I quite understand my deficiency in this area. And training Daan has loomed like a >something really terrible< for some time now. Because along with my general lack of ability or commitment in this regard, you must add the factor that the naked baby technique (the only one that really worked for me last go-round) was not an option. It is, after all, not my sofa he would be peeing on in the event of accident.
However, I decided last week to just grit my teeth and start. He is three and a half, it is well past time. As usual, I did nothing but talk about it a bit.
On Thursday, Daan tried using the toilet at school I hear. He didn't mention it at home.
On Friday, he declared that he would use the potty but wanted to keep the pullups on.
On Saturday, he asked for cloth pants.
It is now Monday. He has had exactly zero accidents.
My heavens, what an accomodating child I have got.
However, I decided last week to just grit my teeth and start. He is three and a half, it is well past time. As usual, I did nothing but talk about it a bit.
On Thursday, Daan tried using the toilet at school I hear. He didn't mention it at home.
On Friday, he declared that he would use the potty but wanted to keep the pullups on.
On Saturday, he asked for cloth pants.
It is now Monday. He has had exactly zero accidents.
My heavens, what an accomodating child I have got.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
What is the difference between a coyote and a louse?
One howls on the prairie.
Douwe's school requests* that we buy a thing called a luizenzak. This translates directly as a louse bag, and I figured I was mistranslating as nobody would buy a bag to put lice in. Turns out I was translating correctly; it is a sort of drape you hang over the jackets on their little hook to prevent the lice from jumping from one jacket to another while they are hanging on the little row of hooks. Hats are however hung on a different hook entirely and not under the louse bag.**
Huh?
This sort of smacks of wild tales of Victorians putting skirts on piano legs. I think little boys spend most of their day licking one another, at least that is the conclusion I have reached by virtue of the sheer number of runny noses which appear around here abut 4 to 7 days after the start of a new school year. So I cannot really see the utility of a louse bag.
However, Douwe has, as of yesterday, given up Pluk and the hat. He declared yesterday that he is a Super Hero and insists upon wearing his t shirt with the Superman logo on it. Since he went hunting mushrooms with Oma this afternoon after school, he is not wearing the thing tomorrow as it has to be washed.
Well, I cannot really complain can I? If they can convince him that he is super as opposed to homeless, then I guess I can cough up the couple euros for a completely useless (it seems to me) louse bag.
Maybe he can use it for a cape.
They also read the Dutch version of "The Rainbow Fish", a book of which I heartily disapprove. Though it is enormously popular.
For those of you who have missed this phenomenon, it is about a lovely fish with a lot of shiny scales. The other fish in the neighborhood envy and covet his scales. They then conduct a panhandling campaign to get Rainbow Fish to give up his scales -- to them, of course. Eventually, the other fish form up into a gang to force him to give up his scales. Thus follows a little public shunning culminating in the social ostracization of Rainbow Fish. Ultimately, under pressure from the octopus who strings together a couple of cliches about how you have to give up what you have to be truly happy+, Rainbow Fish succumbs and gives up all of his wealth, er, individual uniqueness, er, scales, one to each of the others. So now they all look like crap, but they do have a bit of formerly shiny dead scale to carry around, and at least the competition has been decimated. So everyone is now truly happy.
Let's see, there's a lesson for you: you have to give people things for them to like you. Here's another: You have to change yourself to be just like everybody else for other people to like you.
Okay, this is probably not the way it is described in the official review from the publisher.
Anyway, that these things are mostly true in real life does not mean I think it's a really good way to start with kindergarteners. I'll stick with "The Grumpy Ladybug", thanks, at least in that one the other bugs threaten to kick the offending society member's butt.
However, I suppose I shall refrain from explaining the moral bankruptcy of a children's classic to my kid's teacher in the first week. They already think I am a little touched. I cannot imagine why.
Besides, he made a little collage of a fish with one shiny scale and it is hanging on the wall with all the other collages made by all the other kids. So I guess I will refrain from explaining its moral bankruptcy to him, too.
*please read, would require you to buy if it were legal but it is not so instead relies upon the time-tested methods of social control and peer pressure.
** I know this becasue the child has been going to school as Pluk -- remember Pluk? Pluk is the fictional little boy Douwe has, er, had taken into his heart as his new avatar. Pluk wears a red baseball cap which I am sure everyone in Atlanta remembers, um, fondly as he refused to take it off for the pictures. He takes it off for school, though, and hangs it on the un-louse bagged peg.
+ I am aware that Jesus said something like this, too. But I think he said you were supposed to give up your possessions, not your physical attributes. It doesn't say "If thine eye offend the other fish, pluck it out," after all.
Douwe's school requests* that we buy a thing called a luizenzak. This translates directly as a louse bag, and I figured I was mistranslating as nobody would buy a bag to put lice in. Turns out I was translating correctly; it is a sort of drape you hang over the jackets on their little hook to prevent the lice from jumping from one jacket to another while they are hanging on the little row of hooks. Hats are however hung on a different hook entirely and not under the louse bag.**
Huh?
This sort of smacks of wild tales of Victorians putting skirts on piano legs. I think little boys spend most of their day licking one another, at least that is the conclusion I have reached by virtue of the sheer number of runny noses which appear around here abut 4 to 7 days after the start of a new school year. So I cannot really see the utility of a louse bag.
However, Douwe has, as of yesterday, given up Pluk and the hat. He declared yesterday that he is a Super Hero and insists upon wearing his t shirt with the Superman logo on it. Since he went hunting mushrooms with Oma this afternoon after school, he is not wearing the thing tomorrow as it has to be washed.
Well, I cannot really complain can I? If they can convince him that he is super as opposed to homeless, then I guess I can cough up the couple euros for a completely useless (it seems to me) louse bag.
Maybe he can use it for a cape.
They also read the Dutch version of "The Rainbow Fish", a book of which I heartily disapprove. Though it is enormously popular.
For those of you who have missed this phenomenon, it is about a lovely fish with a lot of shiny scales. The other fish in the neighborhood envy and covet his scales. They then conduct a panhandling campaign to get Rainbow Fish to give up his scales -- to them, of course. Eventually, the other fish form up into a gang to force him to give up his scales. Thus follows a little public shunning culminating in the social ostracization of Rainbow Fish. Ultimately, under pressure from the octopus who strings together a couple of cliches about how you have to give up what you have to be truly happy+, Rainbow Fish succumbs and gives up all of his wealth, er, individual uniqueness, er, scales, one to each of the others. So now they all look like crap, but they do have a bit of formerly shiny dead scale to carry around, and at least the competition has been decimated. So everyone is now truly happy.
Let's see, there's a lesson for you: you have to give people things for them to like you. Here's another: You have to change yourself to be just like everybody else for other people to like you.
Okay, this is probably not the way it is described in the official review from the publisher.
Anyway, that these things are mostly true in real life does not mean I think it's a really good way to start with kindergarteners. I'll stick with "The Grumpy Ladybug", thanks, at least in that one the other bugs threaten to kick the offending society member's butt.
However, I suppose I shall refrain from explaining the moral bankruptcy of a children's classic to my kid's teacher in the first week. They already think I am a little touched. I cannot imagine why.
Besides, he made a little collage of a fish with one shiny scale and it is hanging on the wall with all the other collages made by all the other kids. So I guess I will refrain from explaining its moral bankruptcy to him, too.
*please read, would require you to buy if it were legal but it is not so instead relies upon the time-tested methods of social control and peer pressure.
** I know this becasue the child has been going to school as Pluk -- remember Pluk? Pluk is the fictional little boy Douwe has, er, had taken into his heart as his new avatar. Pluk wears a red baseball cap which I am sure everyone in Atlanta remembers, um, fondly as he refused to take it off for the pictures. He takes it off for school, though, and hangs it on the un-louse bagged peg.
+ I am aware that Jesus said something like this, too. But I think he said you were supposed to give up your possessions, not your physical attributes. It doesn't say "If thine eye offend the other fish, pluck it out," after all.
Tweedle Deedle Dumpling
My son Daan/Mopped the floor with his trousers on/One shoe off and one shoe on/Tweedle Deedle Dumpling my son Daan.
I did however change his socks before he went to school this afternoon smelling of floor cleaner, lol.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Ugh
I just remembered why I don't like school time and it has to do with my alarm clock going off at an obscenely early hour every day. Which is why I have not been especially profound recently.
Also why I got into the habit of frumpiness, it takes precious seconds to check if your clothes match and your socks have no holes in them, seconds which I could more profitably spend blissfully snoring.
What am I doing living somewhere I have to wear socks in August, anyway?
Also why I got into the habit of frumpiness, it takes precious seconds to check if your clothes match and your socks have no holes in them, seconds which I could more profitably spend blissfully snoring.
What am I doing living somewhere I have to wear socks in August, anyway?
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Brown bear, brown bear, what do you see?
I went to the eye doctor today. It appears that my vision has, for the first time in my life that I can recall, improved.
Or that my contacts have been too strong for about a year, hard to tell.
I went because I was having trouble seeing small print near my eyes. To be specific, I couldn't read the card in Trivial Pursuit without holding it at arm's length. I thought it was time to be nearsighted and farsighted at the same time which meant reading glasses or bifocals. Many eye doctors have promised that this is in my future. *
After much testing and being sent from one person to another, it appears that my prescription of -7.5 was too strong. I wear a -6.75 apparently.
The doc (whom I ended up with after apparently puzzling several opticians and their automated instruments) He asked me if it was usually in the evening, and I agreed that it was always in the evening. He says that's because my poor little eyes have been working very hard all day to focus and in the evening they are just slap worn out. Or some such a thing. I can indeed read tiny print close up, he gave me a card to be sure.
He gave me a pair of the new ones to try for a couple of weeks to see how they work in different light and so on and sent me on my way.
If I live long enough do you think I'll get to 20/20?
*Of course many eye doctors have also promised that I would be entirely blind in short order, so what the hell do they know?
Or that my contacts have been too strong for about a year, hard to tell.
I went because I was having trouble seeing small print near my eyes. To be specific, I couldn't read the card in Trivial Pursuit without holding it at arm's length. I thought it was time to be nearsighted and farsighted at the same time which meant reading glasses or bifocals. Many eye doctors have promised that this is in my future. *
After much testing and being sent from one person to another, it appears that my prescription of -7.5 was too strong. I wear a -6.75 apparently.
The doc (whom I ended up with after apparently puzzling several opticians and their automated instruments) He asked me if it was usually in the evening, and I agreed that it was always in the evening. He says that's because my poor little eyes have been working very hard all day to focus and in the evening they are just slap worn out. Or some such a thing. I can indeed read tiny print close up, he gave me a card to be sure.
He gave me a pair of the new ones to try for a couple of weeks to see how they work in different light and so on and sent me on my way.
If I live long enough do you think I'll get to 20/20?
*Of course many eye doctors have also promised that I would be entirely blind in short order, so what the hell do they know?
Help
I found myself in a perfume store today unable to decide between Cool Water and Echo.
Help, I think I'm going down for the third time. Somebody call Gloria Steinem on the emergency phone.
I want you all to know that I think all of this is purely opressive and intended to distract women en masse from important matters by causing them to think that it matters whether they buy Cool Water or Echo.
Or that by doing so they are making some kind of statement about their person- hood.
Or that by doing so they will be magically altered from thir real boring selves to some kind of delicious and exotic creature.
Fuck that, I am already a delicious and exotic creature and do not require the house of Davidoff to be it.
So whadda ya think, Cool Water or Echo?
Splash. Splash.
Help, I think I'm going down for the third time. Somebody call Gloria Steinem on the emergency phone.
I want you all to know that I think all of this is purely opressive and intended to distract women en masse from important matters by causing them to think that it matters whether they buy Cool Water or Echo.
Or that by doing so they are making some kind of statement about their person- hood.
Or that by doing so they will be magically altered from thir real boring selves to some kind of delicious and exotic creature.
Fuck that, I am already a delicious and exotic creature and do not require the house of Davidoff to be it.
So whadda ya think, Cool Water or Echo?
Splash. Splash.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Happy Dance
I still habitually think of Douwe as starting kindie, even though they don't have kindie here. They have group one and two, which are the rough equivalent of prek and k in the same classroom.
Play school is optional and is generally 2 half days a week from about age 2 until your 4th birthday, whereupon they have a big party and pack you off to group one, whenever your birthday might be. It seems to me it must be a very abrupt transition, from 2 half days a week to 5 full days. However, I am told that this is handled by the fact that children are not required to go to school until they are 5. So in that in between year, parents can send them as often or as seldom as they like.
I was all set to send Daan to the play school associated with the Montessori, as he is already registered to start there in January when he turns 4. Then it occcurred to me (duh) that this meant a new school and new teachers and new kids for September to December, then another new school in January, which seems to me rather a lot of school change. So now I have 2 kids in 2 school in opposite directions in a car free kind of culture. So we bought one of those carts that hangs on the back of the bike, which the kids think is the coolest thing ever. I suppose I will get good legs out of it and become a truly Hot Mama for the first time in my life. But don't hold your breath.
Daan was overjoyed to go back to school, though he walked around with the eyes-as-big-as saucers thing for about five minutes, until his teacher noticed this and got out the toy cars and the racetrack carpet. The it was "so long mom, I'm busy, see you later". This is why he loves her, she knows just what to do and does it sort of unobtrusively. It is also one of the reasons I kept him there for the duration.
Daan is rather sad that Rowan and Max are not there, they turned 4 over the summer and went on to group one. He has asked me to invite Rowan in particular over to play. If I can find his mother, I suppose I will, I like Rowan, too. Rowan is a real boy, a bouncer, so this will require either an outdoor venue or putting up all the breakable objects.
ANd speaking of holding your breath, Douwe cleared the first day hurdle without clipping the fence. According to his teacher he pretty much did what all the other kids did, anyway, and she didn't have any problems. She has no idea she just witnessed a miracle.
However, here's the big news (which is very small news indeed, so I count on your indulgence of my momminess, lol). Douwe has been for an entire year highly resistant to drawing and writing. He made about 10 drawings the entire year last school year, despite much (really very much. quite a lot really) effort on the part of his teachers. He made tiny little marks on the paper and then tore them up.
This made no sense to me, as I have literally boxes of his drawings from school in the Ststes prior to the age of 4, and he has been able to write his name for nearly 2 years now. But there you are.
So yesterday his teacher said to me, "I thought you said he didn't like to draw?" and showed me the drawing he made. At drawing time, with the other kids apparently. Okay, it was not a Picasso; Sort of a Mondrian really, with red crossed lines on white paper. But then he came home and just before dinner got out the paints himself and sat down at the kitchen table and painted a picture of Oma. With a head and ears and hair and socks and shoes and the whole shebang. Then he made a picture of himself with "Douwe" written underneath. While I stood around and pretended this was a completely ordinary thing for him to do.
The picture of himself has a great big smile, which takes up two thirds of the paper and goes right off his face. So I'd say it is going well thus far.
Play school is optional and is generally 2 half days a week from about age 2 until your 4th birthday, whereupon they have a big party and pack you off to group one, whenever your birthday might be. It seems to me it must be a very abrupt transition, from 2 half days a week to 5 full days. However, I am told that this is handled by the fact that children are not required to go to school until they are 5. So in that in between year, parents can send them as often or as seldom as they like.
I was all set to send Daan to the play school associated with the Montessori, as he is already registered to start there in January when he turns 4. Then it occcurred to me (duh) that this meant a new school and new teachers and new kids for September to December, then another new school in January, which seems to me rather a lot of school change. So now I have 2 kids in 2 school in opposite directions in a car free kind of culture. So we bought one of those carts that hangs on the back of the bike, which the kids think is the coolest thing ever. I suppose I will get good legs out of it and become a truly Hot Mama for the first time in my life. But don't hold your breath.
Daan was overjoyed to go back to school, though he walked around with the eyes-as-big-as saucers thing for about five minutes, until his teacher noticed this and got out the toy cars and the racetrack carpet. The it was "so long mom, I'm busy, see you later". This is why he loves her, she knows just what to do and does it sort of unobtrusively. It is also one of the reasons I kept him there for the duration.
Daan is rather sad that Rowan and Max are not there, they turned 4 over the summer and went on to group one. He has asked me to invite Rowan in particular over to play. If I can find his mother, I suppose I will, I like Rowan, too. Rowan is a real boy, a bouncer, so this will require either an outdoor venue or putting up all the breakable objects.
ANd speaking of holding your breath, Douwe cleared the first day hurdle without clipping the fence. According to his teacher he pretty much did what all the other kids did, anyway, and she didn't have any problems. She has no idea she just witnessed a miracle.
However, here's the big news (which is very small news indeed, so I count on your indulgence of my momminess, lol). Douwe has been for an entire year highly resistant to drawing and writing. He made about 10 drawings the entire year last school year, despite much (really very much. quite a lot really) effort on the part of his teachers. He made tiny little marks on the paper and then tore them up.
This made no sense to me, as I have literally boxes of his drawings from school in the Ststes prior to the age of 4, and he has been able to write his name for nearly 2 years now. But there you are.
So yesterday his teacher said to me, "I thought you said he didn't like to draw?" and showed me the drawing he made. At drawing time, with the other kids apparently. Okay, it was not a Picasso; Sort of a Mondrian really, with red crossed lines on white paper. But then he came home and just before dinner got out the paints himself and sat down at the kitchen table and painted a picture of Oma. With a head and ears and hair and socks and shoes and the whole shebang. Then he made a picture of himself with "Douwe" written underneath. While I stood around and pretended this was a completely ordinary thing for him to do.
The picture of himself has a great big smile, which takes up two thirds of the paper and goes right off his face. So I'd say it is going well thus far.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Ancient Chinese Secret
As some of you know, my anxiety levels are peaking about back to school, as another year like last one with Douwe and I am going to pack it in and home school the child and then go to jail probably because homeschooling is very far beyond not approved of here.
While of course pretending not to be at all concerned about the subject in order to slide under the finely tuned Mommy Radar possessed by my children.
So because I am an eminently sensible and stable person I of course consulted the I Ching on the matter and here is what it said:
The problems are from within. You need a change of attitude regarding those around you. Avoid suffering through altruistic behavior. To cultivate yourself, you must contemplate from a broader prospective. Narrow and superficial views do not generate a person of public responsibility.
Okay, which one of you has tampered with my yarrow sticks for crying out loud?
Did I miss something or is this a very fancy and suitably enigmatic way of saying, "get over yourself"?
While of course pretending not to be at all concerned about the subject in order to slide under the finely tuned Mommy Radar possessed by my children.
So because I am an eminently sensible and stable person I of course consulted the I Ching on the matter and here is what it said:
The problems are from within. You need a change of attitude regarding those around you. Avoid suffering through altruistic behavior. To cultivate yourself, you must contemplate from a broader prospective. Narrow and superficial views do not generate a person of public responsibility.
Okay, which one of you has tampered with my yarrow sticks for crying out loud?
Did I miss something or is this a very fancy and suitably enigmatic way of saying, "get over yourself"?
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