Just thinking about life with a two-year-old and how much I'm learning!
Everything is worth inspecting from chewed gum stuck to the street, to ants, flowers, bubbles, the way rocks plunk in the water ...
No puddle should go un-stomped.
It's fun to play in the rain.
Anything worth eating should be sticky and cover every part of the body, head-to-toes.
Sticky hands are no big deal. Just wipe them on your pants.
There's absolutely nothing wrong with a lollipop that has landed in the dirt. Just wipe it off and pick the dirt out of your teeth later.
The only time that matters is NOW.
A good swing will take you all over the world and back again. Plus, it gives you access to delicious clouds.
Balloons are magical.
Anytime is a good time to dance. (Anyplace, too!)
Dancing is always more fun wearing a Cinderella dress and crown.
Everything can be made into a song.
Life is way better, and more practical, naked.
The best way to get from one place to another is full speed ahead.
All things that hurt can be made better with a hug, a kiss, and a band-aid.
It's okay to cry when somebody you don't like comes near you -- especially if it's in a crowded place and that person pinches your cheeks. The harder you scream, the better.
Hair only needs to be combed once a day, if that. Anymore than that is just excessive.
What's mine is mine; what's yours is mine; if I like it, it's mine; if I like the color, it's mine: if I touched it once, it's mine; if I wanted to touch it once, it's mine; everything in this world is ... mine. Right?
You can pick your friends. You can pick your nose. AND you can pick your friends' nose. Really.
Last night Cesar, Amelia and I were invited to an event in which Simon Velez, one of the world's most prestigious architects that specializes in bamboo buildings (from Manizales ,Colombia), was given an award.
We were invited by one of my best friends who is one of Simon Velez's best friend's friends. (That's how things work here, you know??) Anyway, we didn't want to miss the opportunity because 1. I am always fascinated by artists, architects, authors ... thinkers -- who mold shape the way we view the world. 2. Simon Velez's name is HUGE here in Colombia, and I figured it would be cool just to get a glimpse of him. (Kind of that gawking, rock-star thing). 3. I'm not one to pass up any kind of party invitation on general principle.
So we went, and we found ourselves seated in a small room with twenty or thirty people -- a very intimate setting. There was no press. There were no frills. Amelia spent half the time we were there waving at people (because, I think she might have thought the party was for her). And after the awards ceremony -- which was very short and sweet -- they served us each a glass of wine.
Simon Velez struck me as being such a humble, generous person. He didn't even give his own acceptance speech because he said words weren't his thing, bamboo was. So he asked a friend to help him out. And when Amelia and I approached him to congratulate him, he gave us a big hug of gratitude. Absolutely gracious!
That said, it was a lovely event. Simple. Like him. And he's a master. But what most struck me is that after everything, when everybody disbanded, his mother came up to me and gave me a hug, saying, "Thank you for coming."
And I thought, "Simon Velez has a mom, too." Obviously. But the thing is a mom is a mom. She's proud of her son and happy that people came to be proud of him, too. And I realized that as much as we blow people up to be super-humans, they're just out there, like us, with parents who wish them well, parents who are happy that people look up to and admire the children they raised. Parents who are happy their kids are happy. Period.
I hugged her back and was just as proud that she commented on how well behaved Amelia was, and I thought, "In fifty years, maybe I'll be at an event like this, giving a perfect stranger a hug, thanking her for appreciating my daughter."
Of course, I'll have a glass of wine in hand!
FACTS: Who is Simon Velez? (Info from Wikipedia and last night's event)
He recently participated in designing Crosswaters Ecolodge, the first ecotourism destination in China in the forests of Nankun Shan Mountain Reserve, in the Guangdong Province.
For Expo Hanover 2000, he designed and constructed a 2000-square-meter bamboo pavilion for ZERI (Zero Emissions Research Initiative). The structure utilized bamboo, recycled cement, copper, and a mixture of terracotta, cement and bamboo fiber panels.
In December 2009 he received The Principal Prince Claus Award for his contribution to a positive interaction between culture and development. This prestigious Dutch award, founded by the Royal Prince Claus(†), has a price of 100.000 Euro.
This is an "ode" post. Of course I won't name all of the authors I admire. But today I'm thinking about a few in particular:
Ellen Hopkins: For her poetry and the beautiful sense of stark space on a page. For making each word count. AND for her humility and generosity. (She's the only author I know personally in this list, but she's not on it because I know her personally. She's on it because she's ... HELLO ... ELLEN HOPKINS. So she's the only one I can actually write about more personally.)
MT Anderson: FEED. FEED changed the way I viewed YA lit and ANYBODY who has the idea of "trade-marking" the sky is just too amazing for words.
Libba Bray: For phrases like "sometimes there's a greasy smudge of a rainbow" crazy rock band names and tragedy in absolute hilarity.
Markus Zusak: For "hair like feathers" and giving us the best narrator on the face of the planet (along with Holden Caulfield).
Each of these authors take risks -- big ones. They're fearless warriors of words, and because of their work, I know I need to work harder. They, to me, are masters of the craft. I'm grateful for having the gift of their novels. Hats off, then, to just four of the many many authors that motivate me to work my tail off.
Okay. I'm ranting again. (It seems that's all I do of late, but, hey, it's my blog, right?) Today it's about the "s" word -- school.
I really, really miss the US when it comes to issues like this. I've always valued the education system in the States. Yep. It's pretty amazing. And so are its teachers. (Grumble all you want, it's true!) There are flaws, but when you consider that every single teacher needs to have a college degree, and no child (illegal or legal) will be denied education, I think that's a pretty amazing step in the right direction. I initially studied to be a teacher, and part of me really loves the classroom arena. So I never thought I'd consider sending my kids to private school.
In case you're not aware, I live in Colombia. And unfortunately, Colombia's public schools aren't stellar. It's a developing world country, struggling to offer good education to the majority of its youth, and I give it a lot of credit when it comes to its effort. It is improving. Coverage is improving. But, I'm going to be "real" now. I'm not comfortable sending my daughter to a public school here when classroom sizes vary between forty and fifty students per class, teacher strikes are common, teachers might not necessarily have higher education degrees, resources are scarce and more. So I believe Amelia will get a better education in the private schools we have here.
The new tendency in Colombia is sending children to school from a very young age (18 months). This, I understand, has come about because of the new generation of working mothers. Now I'm going to split hairs. 18-month-olds don't go to school. They go to daycare. And as prepared and educated as their "teachers" are, what Colombia sells to its upper-class mothers and fathers as school isn't school. It's glorified daycare. Moreover, the bi-lingual education schools have this hourglass of sand ticking away, hanging over the heads of parents, because they hesitate to accept children after three years of age and absolutely don't take children after four years of age because "it's too late" for these kids to learn their second language. So now you see little three year olds getting on a bus at seven in the morning to spend an entire day at school.
Again, if I was a working mother and didn't have a place to send Amelia, I think this is a great option because these "schools" have educated, prepared people taking care of kids all day long. That said, I'm not a working mother in that though I work, I work from home. As does my husband. And Amelia can spend time with her grandma two days/week while I really work.
So where does this leave me as a parent who really believes her child is better at home and would like to keep her at home until she's five (when I think it's a reasonable age to send Amelia off to a school setting)? In limbo. And my options are pretty limited.
This pisses me off. Because as prepared as the private schools are, they've created this "need" for early education that parents have bought into. And you can hear parents echoing the catch phrases they've heard from school psychologists, administrators and more at parties, in cafes, at school meetings etc: "They have to learn to socialize." "They'll get behind the other kids." "They'll never fit in."
The whole idea that an eighteen month old "socializes" is ridiculous. Really. And the idea that a kid needs to get used to being without her parents is just as absurd, in my book. What happened to PLAY?? What happened to kids being kids? Meeting up with others at a park, swimming pool, sharing and not-sharing toys?
But this is the inherent problem I have found with private education: The Bottom Line.
I've been to a couple of schools and met with teachers, psychologists etc. and I feel like I can't trust them because when they see me walk in that door, I'm a client -- potentially someone who, if happy with her daughter's school experience, will spend approximately $300.00 - $400.00/month for the next thirteen years in that school (between $35,000 and $47,000, not counting uniforms and materials and such). And, if I have more than one child -- that number is times two, three, four and more. It's like there's a "cha-ching" going on in their brains when they see me walk in the door. AND they are the source of the catch-phrases I hear everywhere: "It's worse to have her enter when she's older." "It's easier when she's younger." "It's absolutely normal for a baby to cry for two to three weeks while she gets used to the school setting." "They have to learn to socialize."
Ahem, "Crap, crap, crap." (But I do say it under my breath.)
Moreover, with private schools curriculum standards can be shaky at best. So it puts into question the quality of education which, I know, is pretty ironic considering the situation. There's also the "religion" thing. Religion isn't taught in Colombia -- Catholicism is. (Both in public and private schools, though.) And to top it off, in a society that has such marked social classes, the private school setting only perpetuates those social rifts, leaving kids growing up in a virtual elitist bubble.
But back to the bottom line and the push for starting kids early. I SO understand that it would be important if I worked and needed somebody qualified to take care of my daughter. I'd do the same in the States. But what makes my hair stand on end (besides the lice, okay??), is having "professionals" tell me that Amelia's better off crying at a school setting than at home with me where we go swimming, to the library, to play groups; where we read, paint, play with play-doh and more. This makes me nervous. VERY NERVOUS.
So Amelia is at home with us -- a very happy, normal two-year-old who doesn't know how to do algebra (should I be concerned?). But in the next couple of years, we've got some big decisions to make. In the meantime, though, I think I'll just worry about vacuuming the Play-Doh out of the carpet.
Told you. You're scratching your head as you read. That's psychosomatic. Mine isn't. (Or, should say, hasn't been. But now I'm not sure if I have "phantom itching" or if I have little dwellers ... still.)
Anyway, back to what I've been up to this past month: The Battle of the Head Lice. Initially, I thought I wouldn't post about something so utterly gross, but then I thought, "Hey! Maybe one lone reader out there will benefit from my battle scars. Maybe it won't be so taboo after it's out there for everyone to read in Cyberspace." More likely than not, if I ever get to attend any of those cool SCBWI conferences, nobody will want to room with me and I'll have stigmatized myself forever and ever and ever ... and ever ... as the head lice YA writer. (I just hope they don't put that in my bio anywhere.)
Here, in Colombia, having head lice is pretty much like getting the common cold. No head goes without a good de-nitting every now and again, and it usually happens when your kids start to play lots with other kids. So Amelia was scratching, scratching, scratching, and one day, lo and behold, little miniature creatures were crawling all over her little scalp. (Here you can imagine my "oh-I'm-so-grossed-out-face" contained while I told Amelia we were going on a safari to find elephants, giraffes, and zebras in her head. This, she thought, was cool.) When she turned away, I did that gagging face because, well, lice are gross.
Guess what? When you give your kid that funky-smelling shampoo, the lice leave that head and find another, healthier head, to invade. YOURS. And denial begins. I've NEVER had head lice. Why would I, at thirty-six years, get lice? That's IMPOSSIBLE. My itching is just psychosomatic. It's. Not. Impossible.
Itch itch.
And the battle begins: washing sheets, towels, stuffed animals, pillow cases. Nitpicking. (NOW I get what that really means on the most literal level), combing, combing, oiling, nitpicking, and washing. Boiling water to put on sheets, animals, towels, vaccuuming, washing, nitpicking. This all takes TIME. Lots and lots of time. And the insidious little bastards can feel your loathing and taunt you with their tiny little, gross, hairy legs, crawling ... Okay. Grossed out yet? I am.
As with any life experience, I've learned a few things about myself and the underground world of head lice over the past month:
I have a really disturbing OCD side. Head lice just puts me over the edge, and I get a little crazy look in my eyes and my husband says I'm a little scary.
A less gross-sounding name for the little freaks is Pediculus humanus capitis. Another name for infestation with head lice is pediculosis.
Head lice have been around since the beginning of recorded time.(Personally, I think if there was Noah and an Ark and a big old flood, he could've left them behind.)
Smothering head lice with olive oil is an excellent treatment option for eliminating pediculicide-resistant head lice.
I've actually purchased: The 5-Step Battle Plan: Head lice to Dead lice.
Head lice like healthier, cleaner hair. SO .... Guess who's going greasy for a while? The whole family! :-)
I THINK, though I haven't found documented proof, that the "100 strokes myth" came from head lice. Why else would anybody have come up with the idea of brushing their hair 100 times/day??
Anyway, you can BET in my next novel there will be a scene with head lice.
Just thinking about life with a two-year-old and how much I'm learning!
