Yesterday I learned a great many things.
1) A light flurry of snowflakes, drifting through the algid breezes of ten degree weather at 6:30am can be a demitasse smile on an otherwise weary and unawakened world.
2) A familiar food can push tears to the farthest corner of a stubbed toe or misplaced toy.
3) An unknown place can provide laughter though the shadows seem daunting.
4) Rubber bracelets never go out of style.
5) Cleaning out drawers and bagging things up for Goodwill actually provide a common ground for adolescents and the adolescents at heart.
6) No matter what, a 3 year old girl will always find a way to relate everything back to her Barbies.
All of this knowledge came to fruition through the adventures of toddlers, conversations with an 11 year old, and a ten and a half hour day with children who only belong to me on Mondays.
When I arrived at the Romero house yesterday morning at 7:15am, everything was quite indistinguishable from every other Monday for the past three years. Clara (3) and Benjamin (18 months) were both still running amuck in their pajamas, Aaron (11) was already on his way to school, and Raul and Phoebe were stumbling through the kitchen attempting to down their first cup of coffee before showering and heading off to work.
Half eaten bowls of Life drowning helplessly in a sea of soy milk, and a table dolloped with pineapple yogurt set the stage for yet another Monday with the little ones. Little did I know, Ben had received an Imaginarium Train Set COMPLETE with a train table for Christmas, and that I was going to be taking the Imagination Express through tunnels and train stations for the next two hours...
Something you don't know about me, or rather, one of many things you don't know about me, is that I am indeed, beyond comprehension, obsessed with trains. I have been performing Murder Mystery Comedies on trains for the past 5 years. I squeal with delight every time I hear a train in the distance. One of the reasons I moved to my house in East Nashville is that it was near a train track and the sounds of the trains resonate beautifully within the 1930's stone walls. My eyes bulge with pure joy when I am stopped in traffic due to the flashing red lights, and clamoring of the train passing through a railroad crossing. I fall asleep to a Cd of of train sounds every night. I have taken a nap in the master bedroom of the train car that used to belong to Jackie Gleason, and gotten naked in his train car living room. (okay, so maybe my nakedness was due to a costume change "back stage" during a performance on the train ride, and maybe that old train car is the one designated for the actors during the Murder Mysteries, but still.) I love trains. This particular morning, I was more entertained by this new train set than the children were.
By about 9:15am, the babies had grown tired of the wooden tracks and metal cars and turned to my extremities for a Jungle Gym. Clara kept asking for "tatoes" and Ben wanted "eggs", so as per routine throughout the past year, with a toddler on each hip, blue and pink blankets in tow, we made a game of trotting downstairs, and I made a second breakfast for the hungry little monsters.
Clara's Breakfast (as well as lunch and dinner for every Monday during the past year and half): One potato, coated with olive oil, skin seasoned with paprika, garlic salt, ground black pepper -- inside, butter, garlic and cheese.
(she refuses to east potatoes unless they are "Yah-yern's" tatoes) - (side note: Clara has a difficult time pronouncing L words, so Lauren has become "Yah-yern")
Ben's Breakfast: An "egg pizza". 2-4 eggs mixed in a bowl, poured into a small round pan, seasoned with paprika, salt & pepper, topped with cheese.
(basically a round omelet that isn't folded but that can be cut into wedges so that an 18 month old can easily pick up the pieces and eat them)
For some reason, this is always their requested food. Clara tells her mom she doesn't like potatoes, and Ben won't touch his father's omelets, but when I'm there, I get smothered with smiles and slobber when I make them their secret Turkish Delight.
By 1:00pm, Clara had locked herself in the bathroom after insisting she could go potty by herself. I scooped up Benjamin and fled to the cries of his frightened sister and sat helplessly outside the bathroom door. I tried explaining that there was a little "button" in the middle of the door knob that she needed to turn in order to unlock the door and open it. I explained this to no avail. I could feel the anxiety seeping underneath the bathroom door from this mini Alice in Wonderland; Clara was attempting to thrive in a world she wasn't yet ready for, tears streaming down her apricot cheeks, eyes brimming with fear, not understanding how to escape this unexpected rabbit hole.
After calming her down, I retrieved a stray bobby pin from my back pocket and attempted to pick the lock. I made jokes about the silly bobby pin and how it wasn't minding me, and how it was trying to dance inside the door knob instead. The sniffles turned to quieted giggles. I then asked her if she was just tired of playing with Ben and me, and if she locked us OUT of the bathroom. She squealed with laughter and told me "nooooooo Yah-yern!" I distracted her with questions about a bathroom tea party, inquiring whether or not she was drinking the shampoo and eating the toothpaste for lunch, and she could hardly respond for the silliness of the question. The bobby pin wasn't working, so I told her I was going to the garage to get a screwdriver since the bobby pin wasn't minding me. I slid the pin under the door for her to discipline and ran downstairs to retrieve my hero: Mr. Phillips H. Screwdriver.
Thirty minutes after the initial lockdown, the door was unlocked and my little Alice, smiles and all, was safely back in my arms. She then proceeded to tell me about her bathroom adventure, asked for more "tatoes" and all was good in her world.
By 3:10pm, Aaron was off the bus and bursting through the front door. I hadn't been there in three weeks due to the holidays and he was anxious to tell me all about Christmas, his trip to Disneyland, and the new craze: Silly Bandz. Now, the last bracelet craze I remember consisted of jelly bracelets, pop-beads, slap bracelets. Silly Bandz are the "jelly bracelets" of the new millennium, apparently. Each pack of these bracelets has a theme with twenty different shapes varying from "Sea Creatures" to "Automobiles". Aaron started pulling out pack after pack of the bracelets he got for Christmas and wanted me to pick out my favorites. I may be 28 years of age, but I am not ashamed to say that I am now sporting a kangaroo, sea horse, and penguin Silly Bandz. Are you really ever too old to wear rubber bracelets or too old for the satisfaction it brings to an eleven years old face when you embrace a fad that they think is cool? You know, I hope I never outgrow the latest fad...
Since Aaron had orders from his dad that he wasn't allowed to play until his room was clean and his old clothes were bagged up for Goodwill, I decided to round up the little ones and make a game of helping their older brother. Ben was in charge of bringing the clothes from Aaron to me, Clara's job was to help fold the items that were being bagged for Goodwill, and I provided the nonchalant refolding of the clothes after Clara's first meager attempts. As Aaron started making piles of what-to-keep and what-not-to-keep, I decided to pilfer through his shirts and old football jerseys to see if I could find anything I might be able to fit into. The three of them thought this was funny, and demanded a fashion show (which was well received with belly laughs and several rounds of applause).
Several abercrombie kids shirts, Aeropostale tees and miscellaneous boy's football jerseys later, I had a separate bag filled with loot to take home, and Aaron couldn't wait to tell his friends that his nanny was wearing his clothes. It was then that I made sure he bundled up, sent him out to play, and finished cleaning his room and making his bed for him. A kid is only a kid for so long, and he made my day. The least I could do was make his bed.
By 5:04pm, the little ones were splashing about their evening bubble bath, taking turns with the rubber duckies, zoo animals, and Malibu Barbies. After the treacherous event of toddler-hair-washing, I was leaning over the bathtub to scrub their little bodies, when Clara looked at me with a sort of unexpected awe and bewilderment, as though she was noticing something for the first time.
"What's wrong, Clara?" I asked, expecting there to be a spider dangling above my head, instead she exclaimed: "Oh Yah-yern, yer hair is sooo long, like my Barbie!", her pruny hands reaching for the locks dipping carelessly above the water's surface. And as I thought my day couldn't get any better, I said smiling, "OoooOOoohhh, so Miss Lauren has hair like your Barbie?" Her eyebrows furrowed, she splashed her hands deliberately at her waist, through the soapy water, and said "My Yah-yern Barbie has bootiful hair. She's under my pink bwanket in my bed. I don't let her get wet!"
When I went to their room to retrieve their pajamas before drying them off and putting the two of them in their PJ's, I curiously peeked under the pink blanket in her bed, and sure enough, there was a Barbie dressed in a pink and purple ballerina dress, with blue eyes and dark hair -- different from the blonde haired Barbies with soapy, matted tresses that accompanied her during her evening baths. It seems silly, but there was some sort of validation in the fact that this beautiful little girl had chosen to keep me by her side through the night, in the comfort of her bed.
What grown girl, attempting to be a role model for little ones, wouldn't want to have a Barbie doll named after her, with a little girl clutching that doll closely as she drifts off to sleep as the early evening turns into a darkened midnight? To be remembered in an afternoon afterthought, or evening prayer by the little ones you love so much, becomes an overwhelming sensation.
And so it continues...
1) A light flurry of snowflakes, drifting through the algid breezes of ten degree weather at 6:30am can be a demitasse smile on an otherwise weary and unawakened world.
2) A familiar food can push tears to the farthest corner of a stubbed toe or misplaced toy.
3) An unknown place can provide laughter though the shadows seem daunting.
4) Rubber bracelets never go out of style.
5) Cleaning out drawers and bagging things up for Goodwill actually provide a common ground for adolescents and the adolescents at heart.
6) No matter what, a 3 year old girl will always find a way to relate everything back to her Barbies.
All of this knowledge came to fruition through the adventures of toddlers, conversations with an 11 year old, and a ten and a half hour day with children who only belong to me on Mondays.
When I arrived at the Romero house yesterday morning at 7:15am, everything was quite indistinguishable from every other Monday for the past three years. Clara (3) and Benjamin (18 months) were both still running amuck in their pajamas, Aaron (11) was already on his way to school, and Raul and Phoebe were stumbling through the kitchen attempting to down their first cup of coffee before showering and heading off to work.
Half eaten bowls of Life drowning helplessly in a sea of soy milk, and a table dolloped with pineapple yogurt set the stage for yet another Monday with the little ones. Little did I know, Ben had received an Imaginarium Train Set COMPLETE with a train table for Christmas, and that I was going to be taking the Imagination Express through tunnels and train stations for the next two hours...
Something you don't know about me, or rather, one of many things you don't know about me, is that I am indeed, beyond comprehension, obsessed with trains. I have been performing Murder Mystery Comedies on trains for the past 5 years. I squeal with delight every time I hear a train in the distance. One of the reasons I moved to my house in East Nashville is that it was near a train track and the sounds of the trains resonate beautifully within the 1930's stone walls. My eyes bulge with pure joy when I am stopped in traffic due to the flashing red lights, and clamoring of the train passing through a railroad crossing. I fall asleep to a Cd of of train sounds every night. I have taken a nap in the master bedroom of the train car that used to belong to Jackie Gleason, and gotten naked in his train car living room. (okay, so maybe my nakedness was due to a costume change "back stage" during a performance on the train ride, and maybe that old train car is the one designated for the actors during the Murder Mysteries, but still.) I love trains. This particular morning, I was more entertained by this new train set than the children were.
By about 9:15am, the babies had grown tired of the wooden tracks and metal cars and turned to my extremities for a Jungle Gym. Clara kept asking for "tatoes" and Ben wanted "eggs", so as per routine throughout the past year, with a toddler on each hip, blue and pink blankets in tow, we made a game of trotting downstairs, and I made a second breakfast for the hungry little monsters.
Clara's Breakfast (as well as lunch and dinner for every Monday during the past year and half): One potato, coated with olive oil, skin seasoned with paprika, garlic salt, ground black pepper -- inside, butter, garlic and cheese.
(she refuses to east potatoes unless they are "Yah-yern's" tatoes) - (side note: Clara has a difficult time pronouncing L words, so Lauren has become "Yah-yern")
Ben's Breakfast: An "egg pizza". 2-4 eggs mixed in a bowl, poured into a small round pan, seasoned with paprika, salt & pepper, topped with cheese.
(basically a round omelet that isn't folded but that can be cut into wedges so that an 18 month old can easily pick up the pieces and eat them)
For some reason, this is always their requested food. Clara tells her mom she doesn't like potatoes, and Ben won't touch his father's omelets, but when I'm there, I get smothered with smiles and slobber when I make them their secret Turkish Delight.
By 1:00pm, Clara had locked herself in the bathroom after insisting she could go potty by herself. I scooped up Benjamin and fled to the cries of his frightened sister and sat helplessly outside the bathroom door. I tried explaining that there was a little "button" in the middle of the door knob that she needed to turn in order to unlock the door and open it. I explained this to no avail. I could feel the anxiety seeping underneath the bathroom door from this mini Alice in Wonderland; Clara was attempting to thrive in a world she wasn't yet ready for, tears streaming down her apricot cheeks, eyes brimming with fear, not understanding how to escape this unexpected rabbit hole.
After calming her down, I retrieved a stray bobby pin from my back pocket and attempted to pick the lock. I made jokes about the silly bobby pin and how it wasn't minding me, and how it was trying to dance inside the door knob instead. The sniffles turned to quieted giggles. I then asked her if she was just tired of playing with Ben and me, and if she locked us OUT of the bathroom. She squealed with laughter and told me "nooooooo Yah-yern!" I distracted her with questions about a bathroom tea party, inquiring whether or not she was drinking the shampoo and eating the toothpaste for lunch, and she could hardly respond for the silliness of the question. The bobby pin wasn't working, so I told her I was going to the garage to get a screwdriver since the bobby pin wasn't minding me. I slid the pin under the door for her to discipline and ran downstairs to retrieve my hero: Mr. Phillips H. Screwdriver.
Thirty minutes after the initial lockdown, the door was unlocked and my little Alice, smiles and all, was safely back in my arms. She then proceeded to tell me about her bathroom adventure, asked for more "tatoes" and all was good in her world.
By 3:10pm, Aaron was off the bus and bursting through the front door. I hadn't been there in three weeks due to the holidays and he was anxious to tell me all about Christmas, his trip to Disneyland, and the new craze: Silly Bandz. Now, the last bracelet craze I remember consisted of jelly bracelets, pop-beads, slap bracelets. Silly Bandz are the "jelly bracelets" of the new millennium, apparently. Each pack of these bracelets has a theme with twenty different shapes varying from "Sea Creatures" to "Automobiles". Aaron started pulling out pack after pack of the bracelets he got for Christmas and wanted me to pick out my favorites. I may be 28 years of age, but I am not ashamed to say that I am now sporting a kangaroo, sea horse, and penguin Silly Bandz. Are you really ever too old to wear rubber bracelets or too old for the satisfaction it brings to an eleven years old face when you embrace a fad that they think is cool? You know, I hope I never outgrow the latest fad...
Since Aaron had orders from his dad that he wasn't allowed to play until his room was clean and his old clothes were bagged up for Goodwill, I decided to round up the little ones and make a game of helping their older brother. Ben was in charge of bringing the clothes from Aaron to me, Clara's job was to help fold the items that were being bagged for Goodwill, and I provided the nonchalant refolding of the clothes after Clara's first meager attempts. As Aaron started making piles of what-to-keep and what-not-to-keep, I decided to pilfer through his shirts and old football jerseys to see if I could find anything I might be able to fit into. The three of them thought this was funny, and demanded a fashion show (which was well received with belly laughs and several rounds of applause).
Several abercrombie kids shirts, Aeropostale tees and miscellaneous boy's football jerseys later, I had a separate bag filled with loot to take home, and Aaron couldn't wait to tell his friends that his nanny was wearing his clothes. It was then that I made sure he bundled up, sent him out to play, and finished cleaning his room and making his bed for him. A kid is only a kid for so long, and he made my day. The least I could do was make his bed.
By 5:04pm, the little ones were splashing about their evening bubble bath, taking turns with the rubber duckies, zoo animals, and Malibu Barbies. After the treacherous event of toddler-hair-washing, I was leaning over the bathtub to scrub their little bodies, when Clara looked at me with a sort of unexpected awe and bewilderment, as though she was noticing something for the first time.
"What's wrong, Clara?" I asked, expecting there to be a spider dangling above my head, instead she exclaimed: "Oh Yah-yern, yer hair is sooo long, like my Barbie!", her pruny hands reaching for the locks dipping carelessly above the water's surface. And as I thought my day couldn't get any better, I said smiling, "OoooOOoohhh, so Miss Lauren has hair like your Barbie?" Her eyebrows furrowed, she splashed her hands deliberately at her waist, through the soapy water, and said "My Yah-yern Barbie has bootiful hair. She's under my pink bwanket in my bed. I don't let her get wet!"
When I went to their room to retrieve their pajamas before drying them off and putting the two of them in their PJ's, I curiously peeked under the pink blanket in her bed, and sure enough, there was a Barbie dressed in a pink and purple ballerina dress, with blue eyes and dark hair -- different from the blonde haired Barbies with soapy, matted tresses that accompanied her during her evening baths. It seems silly, but there was some sort of validation in the fact that this beautiful little girl had chosen to keep me by her side through the night, in the comfort of her bed.
What grown girl, attempting to be a role model for little ones, wouldn't want to have a Barbie doll named after her, with a little girl clutching that doll closely as she drifts off to sleep as the early evening turns into a darkened midnight? To be remembered in an afternoon afterthought, or evening prayer by the little ones you love so much, becomes an overwhelming sensation.
And so it continues...
Enjoyed reading your blog....definitely related to this post since I've lived for 30 years with kindergarten kiddos! (Wishing I had kept my own journal/blog all these years.....I could have a bestseller and RETIRE!) Since I'm home on a "snow day" today, I am thrilled to become your first official follower! :-)
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