Toothwhale

From picture book to video, with love

Do you have little kids in your life? Do you ever feel a little guilty when they're watching TV or a DVD? Do you feel a little less guilty when what they're watching is brainy or artsy? I do. I do. I sure do. If you do, too, then I have a suggestion for you: Scholastic Storybook Treasures.

In the videos of the Scholastic Storybook Treasures series, children's picture books are faithfully adapted and brought to onscreen life. You'll find beloved characters starring in their own stories: Curious George, Harold, Officer Buckle and Gloria, Owen, Strega Nona, Max, and so, so many more.

Every time we go to the library, we check out books. We also check out "shows." When we find one of the videos of the Scholastic Storybook Treasures collection that we haven't seen yet, we always choose it. We see books we already love. We see books we fall in love with through our viewing. Every video is -- really -- a treasure. I promise it's not just me who's mad about them; my children feel the same way I do.

The series is most appropriate for ages two to nine. Different videos would appeal to different ages within that range, and the stories are chosen for a video based on a common theme. I can't say enough about the collection; it has my wholehearted recommendation as a mom and as a children's book lover.

As I was writing this, I discovered that the Treasury of 100 Storybook Classics is on sale for $49.99 (50% off!) on Amazon. As much as I like to save money by taking advantage of the free resources at the public library, I could not resist that price. Ours is on its way.

I remember your whole life

My two have become fans of Charlie Brown, Snoopy, and the Peanuts gang. They watched Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown and they were hooked. Harper called the DVD of the 1975 special "the funny show," and when she learned I'd returned it to the library when it was due after a week, she cried and made me promise we'd check it out again. We didn't find that DVD on our next library trip, but we did find A Charlie Brown Valentine. They ate that up, too. Today was due day again, and in exchange for the Valentine specials, they picked out A Charlie Brown Christmas. In typical Henry fashion, he's been quoting lines. We've heard "good grief" a lot. Sometimes he quotes lines as if they're things from his own life. At dinner tonight, he paraphrased a line from the scene where Lucy is assigning parts in the Christmas play.

"Every Baby Jesus play I'm in, I always end up being the shepherd," he said.

I chuckled. "You've never been in a Baby Jesus play."

"Yes I have. You just don't remember," he said.

"I remember," I said.

"Even when I was two?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Do you remember my whole life?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Even when he was in your tummy?" Harper asked.

"Yes," I said.

Now Henry chuckled. "Are moms really, really, really smart?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"How do you know?" he asked.

We all were distracted then, and I didn't answer. If I had, I would have said, "I know." Oh, I know.

The line is from Shermy. He says, "Every Christmas it's the same: I always end up playing a shepherd."

I'm back to blogging, and I'm singing about Santa

Back on track this morning, back on track. Raffi's Singable Songs for the Very Young was back in my car's CD player, the sun was streaming in the windows, and I knew it was gonna be all right.

Who's got a beard that's long and white?
Santa's got a beard that's long and white.
Who comes around on a special night?
Santa comes around on a special night.
Special night, beard that's white ...
Must be Santa, must be Santa,
Must be Santa, Santa Claus.

I've been away from blogging for seven days -- a week -- and every day, I was going darker. But I'm back. I'm back to blogging and back from crazy.

It started when something happened -- an unimportant thing -- that caused me to question whether the blog had been a good idea. And while I was at it -- questioning, that is -- I wondered whether the time I'm spending on blogging and bloggy things is the right way for me to spend time. Because there are other things I've been meaning to do. And STILL HAVEN'T DONE. You may remember this. Or this and this. You probably don't remember these projects -- but I do, because they're still sitting right where they were when I wrote about them. So, I wondered whether disconnecting myself from the computer would be for my own good.

I talked about it with my sister. I talked about it with Jake. I unloaded my troubles on a kind blogging acquaintance. Keep going or quit? Keep going or quit? Keep going or quit? They tried to be helpful, and offered me helpful ideas: Set limits on the time you spend; Take a blog vacation and see how you feel; Spend less time on the keeping up with the community stuff. But I wasn't sure.

I was discouraged. I was tangled. I was stuck.

I made a master to-do list (it's five pages long) and tried to cross some things off. I cleaned out my purse and balanced my checkbook. I did some Christmas shopping. I started potty training Harper (she's doing so well!). I folded a lot of laundry. I decided to skip sending Christmas cards this year.

But I still wasn't sure. And by this time, I had gone dark. It wasn't (or isn't) that the idea of reading, exercising, volunteering, and getting around to projects bummed me out, but somehow, I was bummed out thinking about doing those things instead of blogging. Knowing that I hadn't gotten to those things in the nearly six months that I've been blogging convinced me that I never would get to them while still blogging, and I was struggling to become unconvinced even by the people who love me the most and put up with me more than I deserve.

So, I cried.

And then, I don't know why, but I decided the right thing to do in this case is the thing that a lot of people do when they don't want to choose between two things (in this case, blogging or not blogging): I decided to make DOING IT ALL work.

Thinking about making DOING IT ALL work doesn't bum me out. Instead of making me go dark, it makes me feel light. It makes me want to sing my new favorite Christmas song. With apologies to Hal Moore and Bill Fredricks for probably infringing on their copyrights, ...

Reindeer sleigh, come our way,
Ho, ho, ho, cherry nose,
Cap on head, suit that's red,
Special night, beard that's white ...
Must be Santa, must be Santa,
Must be Santa, Santa Claus.

OK, so, forget what I said about being back from crazy.

 

If you're more the Bob Dylan than Raffi type, check out Dylan's version of "Must Be Santa."

Wait for me!

All week I felt like I needed more time. The past few days and nights especially have been too short. There were so many things I meant to accomplish but didn't. What did happen?

--

On Wednesday, quite unusually, I stopped by the library without Henry and Harper. I checked out some things for them, including Raffi's first album, Singable Songs for the Very Young. We've listened to it over and over. Harper likes the line about the whale with a polka-dot tail in "Down By the Bay," Henry likes the line about the man whose nose was made of cheese in "Aikendrum," and they both giggle through "Willoughby Wallaby Woo." "Brush Your Teeth" and "Peanut Butter Sandwich" are my favorites, and they're both new to me. At some point in the past few days of listening to Singable Songs, I thought to myself, You know you're a mom when you're listening to Raffi and liking it.

--

On Thursday morning, I was rushing to help the kids brush their teeth and hair so we could get out the door to gymnastics. Henry combed his own hair, and disappeared upstairs while I combed out Harper's tangles in the downstairs bathroom. Hurrying, I grabbed all of our shoes and opened the door.

Henry heard the door open and called out from the stairs, "Wait for me!" 

We rarely go anywhere without a couple of toys, so I figured he'd gone to grab one. It didn't occur to me that he hadn't been finished with the comb. "What were you getting?" I asked.

"Just a little bit more handsome," he said. 

---

After lunch on Thursday afternoon, we went for a walk around the block. The weather was lovely this week, and when Henry asked to go, it seemed like the right thing to do even though it already was Harper's naptime. I tried to rush the kids along, but that never works. Harper found a tree whose dropped leaves hadn't lost their color or become brittle, and the three of us collected a couple dozen of the best ones to bring home. I got to thinking about how, at a week out from Thanksgiving, it was becoming less likely that I was going to store buy the perfect centerpiece. While Harper was napping, Henry made a leaf collage and I filled a bowl with found items -- some of the collected leaves, a snipping from one of our crepe myrtles, the acorns Henry found with Jake last week, leaves Henry painted at preschool, two small pumpkins leftover from Halloween, and a metalwork pumpkin that's been sitting in a cabinet. Nothing fancy, but the more I think about it, it feels right to use what one has for a day about gratefulness.

---

Early this morning, the old chair that Jake and I talked for so long about replacing was carried away by the garbage truck. It was falling apart and never very comfortable, but because it was the one that went with Jake's childhood furniture, I felt sentimental about setting it at the curb. So long, old chair.

---

Late this morning (because that's the best I could do for getting them to preschool today), one of Harper's teachers gave me a picture she had taken of Harper. She's taking a black and white photography class with a film camera, and she had used Harper as a subject for an assignment on photographing people. She did the darkroom work herself. I lost my breath when I saw the 11 by 14 inch print. I don't think I've seen a more real picture of my daughter. I'm planning to frame and hang it somewhere special. I'll try to share it once I do.

---

I don't like to say never, but I know I'll never be able to control time the way I'd like. I can't stretch it or add pockets of it that are accessible only to me. I can't stop it for everyone else while I get things done. But knowing I can't won't stop me from wishing.