Photo Friday: TANSTAFL

There ain't no such thing as free lunch. Actually, I beg to differ. If you knew me during my college days, I could be found attending a variety of campus symposiums, lectures, workshops and special events purely for the purpose of receiving a free lunch. It is also how I happened to learn about topics I never knew interested me, like mindfulness, Buddhist ashrams, kundalini yoga, study habits and the human brain, anger management, biofeedback...

Yes, in my college days, I spent a good deal of time (and effort) thinking about my next meal. And once I got married, those thoughts extended to thinking about my husband's next meal. The first Shabbos we spent at home as a married couple I made about 15 kugels and a cholent big enough to feed an army. The leftover cholent actually took up coveted space in our deep freezer for the next six months. I don't even like cholent and I have not made it since; that's my husband's job!

And once I had my first child, my thoughts about food extended (bordered on obsession) toward feeding that chubby cheeked little baby. Breastfeeding was my priority and while I had gone into that journey knowing it would be hard, I had not intuited how hard it would be. How the very act of striving to feed this tiny human could be at once so empowering and dis-empowering. How every other hour I was full to the point of engorgement with nourishment, confidence and doubt. And then came the pumping. I was planning to go back to work and S would be 5 weeks old. But no matter how much time, effort, begging, bargaining and denial I put in with that sucker (pun intended), I was not producing anything worth writing home about in those bottles. I contacted my lactation consultant again (and again) to no avail. "Just do it" she would say, Nike commercial style. And the night before my first day I had a whopping 3 oz bottle that took two weeks  of pumping multiple times a day to fill. I called the pediatrician. We were told to supplement with formula and when I contacted the aforementioned lactation consultant about this, we had a messy 7th grade style over the phone break up. I cried and cried and cried and went to work with puffy eyes leaving behind a tiny baby who ate and grew nonetheless. And continued to breastfeed until after the age of two, when (ironically during National Breastfeeding Week) he self weaned. Three weeks before I finished work for the year, I realized my pump was defective. It wasn't me. It wasn't something I could "Just do it" through. I'd been pumping every single day for nearly a year on a broken device.
With Y, I embarked on my second breastfeeding journey. I had such an oversupply at first that he couldn't latch. I called in the troops--a new lactation consultant, this time going in with a bit of precaution to avoid any messy emotional breakups. Things went much better on that end, but I had to pump again (on a new device) to decrease supply. And the freezer stash was growing to the point of overflow with Pesach drawing near. I made some calls and was connected through lactation consultants to another mother with a baby about the same age with chronic low supply and a thyroid condition. Her son refused to take formula and she was down to her last ounce of donated milk, literally praying and crying something would come through. And it did--a whopping stash of my freezer overstock. After that, thank G-d, my supply stabilized and Y continued to breastfeed until (doubly ironically during National Breastfeeding Week) he self weaned at about 16 months.

And then came little C, so little in fact that she could not yet coordinate sucking and swallowing so efficiently. And pair that with a low supply this time, another pump and another visit with the lactation consultant. But by this go around, when we had to supplement with formula and expressed milk bottles, I didn't care so much. I just want to feed my kid; it doesn't matter what it takes and how that has to happen. And no, it's not always easy. I hate pumping. I am a couch prisoner right now, nursing on the hour throughout the morning, supplementing with bottles through the afternoons and evening and, thank G-d, getting a lot of night help from my husband. By next month, she may be able to exclusively breastfeed. She may not. And I am reminded of one thing I learned so well in college (even with my unique talent for scoping out well catered campus events): There ain't no such thing as free lunch.

In other words, the beginning is just that; the beginning. The battles over mealtime don't go away, they just evolve. In the photo above, you can see my two fully weaned sons' eating habits in a nutshell, or rather, atop a pizza crust. There is Boy Who Eats Only Cheese and Dough and Boy Who Eats Just About Everything. S knows what he likes and likes what he knows. He won't touch a chicken nugget with a ten foot pole, but he will drink green kombucha with chia seeds floating in it. The only thing Y likes more than his food is your food. And the only thing he likes even more than that is covering it with a hefty portion of ketchup.

So as I sit here, prisoner to my couch, with a football hold on C that has given me the confidence not only to get through this season of our lives but also to potentially join the NFL, I give a shout out to all the parents feeding tiny humans out there. At all stages, ages and in all possible ways--TANSTAFL but here's some food for thought: we're all just thinking about our next meal. On my wedding day, I wasn't thinking about whether I was bottle fed or breastfed. I was thinking about the fact that I'd put a lot of thought and planning into the catering and while I got up from my seat, the overly efficient caterers had whisked away my unfinished dinner plate. When I was in labor with all three of my children, I was not thinking about how many fights I'd had with my parents as a "picky eater" growing up. I was thinking about how my current level of starvation must be why other mammals eat their young and what I wanted to eat once this baby was out of me. And if you think I was hungry through pregnancy, labor and delivery, no one knows hunger like the kind when you're feeding a tiny nursling around the clock. I've eaten granola chunks, jello, even yogurt off my babies' heads (no crumb left behind) while breastfeeding. So if this meal isn't the one, there's always next meal. We've all bitten off more than we can chew at one point or another, but when it comes to feeding the tiny humans in your life, whatever it takes to do it (and please know that I once attended a Thanksgiving meal at the home of two pediatrician parents who got their children to try turkey by allowing them to act like cats and crawl under the table, meowing while being hand-fed chunks of the new food)--YOU'VE GOT THIS!

Bon Appetit & Happy Playing!

Sowing Seeds of Literacy & Art in the Garden

Plants are not the only thing that grow in our garden. Literacy and art come to life with garden signs throughout the space. Pictures and print allow pre-readers and early readers alike to "read" about our gardening experience and lending a hand in the creation of garden signs gives a personal artistic touch from all of the hands that help to dig, sow, pull weeds and harvest here.

In fact, our garden plan itself started off with a literary experience this year. At the beginning of the season, S and I had a date to the garden shop after reading the book Pizza Day by Melissa Iwai. To be clear, he's not such a fan of pizza (unless it's literally just dough and cheese!) but he wanted to plant a pizza garden, nonetheless. We chose a couple of tomato plants, a pack of sweet pepper seedlings, some oregano, some basil and some nasturtiums and dill to help invite beneficial insects and ward off less preferable ones. And the same boy who won't even try a grilled cheese sandwich, who once cried in a restaurant because one showed up with pesto on it, loves eating basil leaves right off the plant! (Go figure, it wasn't the pesto that made the sandwich a problem, it was the sandwich itself. Next time, we'll just order a dish of pesto...)

Well, once the raised bed was built (thanks to help from S, Y and their Tatty) and the seedlings replanted, it was time to add some signage! Both boys got busy with this activity (and so did I). At the very least, labeling our plants helps to keep track of the "few" things I'm growing this year. (Ok, ok, I admit it, I may have surpassed "a few." Again.) It also infuses our outdoor space with a print rich environment and adds an element of art and beauty to the garden.

 There are so many ways to create garden signs. Pinterest has a wealth of ideas to peruse! Wooden paint sticks, craft sticks, actual sticks, rocks, plastic forks, clothes pins, purchased plant tags... I've even seen refurbished plastic animals and dinosaurs painted a solid color and printed with plant labels! (This idea may show up again in my own garden!) I got pretty busy during breaks between C's busy eating schedule painting and printing garden labels...

I decided to get more hands on deck for our pizza garden. I printed off some black and white images of a pizza pie and set out oil pastels, cut up photos of tomatoes, peppers and herbs from seed catalogs and some glue sticks. Each of the boys got busy in his own way. S used oil pastels and first colored on the sauce. Then he colored in the crust and last, he added in an abundance of his new (and only) favorite pizza topping--basil!

 Y started off with oil pastels. Then he walked over to the art center and grabbed some ink and rubber stamps, adding layers of flowers and garden themed stamps to his pizza. And, continuing to layer, he next got very busy with the glue stick and magazine cutouts. At last, he was done!

S cut out his pizza on his own and Y had some help from me. We ran them through the laminating machine and duct taped them to wooden paint sticks on which I'd printed the words "Pizza Garden." S wasn't feeling done yet. He's recently discovered he loves art and wanted to continue to create garden signs. He decided to "recycle" the scrap from his pizza cutout and noticed the outer edge of the circle created two arches--the perfect shape for a rainbow. He carefully colored each color of the rainbow, in order (asking for some help to remember the order) and then added in some pink as well. He cut that out, we laminated it and he dictated what he wanted written on the stick. He's decided it is a sign to hold up whenever he sees a rainbow. We "planted" it with our cucumbers. I know, I know, I was only going to grow a small pizza garden...but pizza goes so well with salad...and berries...and herbal teas...and loofah sponges...and peanuts...and flowers...and blue potatoes...fairy gardens...broccoli...mammoth sunflowers...

So I may have gone a little overboard on the plants this year. Again. But with school ending in just over a week and all three Sprout Scouts home for the summer, we will have plenty to keep us busy outside (and if we're lucky, in the kitchen as well)!

Happy Planting & Playing!

Get Outside And...Roll! With Ramps, Tunnels & Balls

Scrap wood meets cardboard tubes meets ping pong balls in this fun and simple to set up outdoor activity and it's truly a match made in heaven (or at least a match made in the recycling bin)! Building and constructing larger scale marble runs outdoors is a great way to encourage STEM related skills in kids (and adults) of all ages using simple to attain and inexpensive loose parts.

We used a collection of recycled hard cardboard tubes a friend gifted us, some scraps of wood and broken down boxes and a basket of ping pong balls from inside. I told the boys they could also use whatever they wanted from outside and they both got busy right away.

Quite quickly, S discovered that our sidewalk is on a downward slope to the parking lot. He skillfully found things to use (with a little help with heavier lifting) to blockade the sidewalk...

Y loved throwing and rolling the balls down and even built some smaller scale ball runs. S worked on a larger scale, including a maze like setup that almost turned our walkway into a pinball machine!

The photos truly don't do justice to this activity, although I did get some video footage. It was so beloved by both boys that S spent most of the morning outside even while Y took a nap building, launching and building some more. They both had fun doing this again inside later on and with such a simple to set up activity at our fingertips, it's likely one we will repeat again and expand upon.

What else might you include? Water? Other materials? Different surfaces? The options are as vast as the imagination and as much as it's tempting to quickly join in and demonstrate, I learned a lot by watching what the kids were doing!

So this spring and summer, grab your recyclables and some ping pong balls and get ready to roll!

We'll be back soon and until then...

Happy Playing!

Get Outside And...Paint & Wash The Fence!

The dust is slowly settling here as a family of 5 now and we've even started up our garden plus some great additions to our outdoor space to get everyone busy playing and learning outside this season. And while I haven't quite gotten back to new activities outside yet, here's a peek back at a great one we did a while back!

When this white fencing was put up in our shared grassy area out back, I was perplexed. It created a semi-private space in our yard and our neighbor's. It didn't completely block off our own yard or even any part of the big field. But more important than the function and aesthetics to me was what we could do with it... And the bell went off in my head over one Shabbos! While other mothers nest toward the end of pregnancy, I head to the hardware store. On this occasion, I picked up some large utility buckets, some squeegees and some big sponges from the automotive department. Meanwhile, at home I grabbed some paint trays and brushes and filled them up with washable tempera paints. I filled the bucket with soapy water (dish detergent is great).

And we all got busy painting the world red...and orange, and yellow, green, blue and purple... Even my more reluctant painter, S, was enthralled with the novelty of this unique vertical surface! But the fun wasn't over after painting alone--next it was time to wash the fence clean again--and this proved to be just as much fun, if not more fun than painting it in the first place.

I was asked if this activity is one that might confuse children and encourage graffiti. To touch on that topic, I did actually discuss this with my boys when we began--that the artwork we did in this space was to be temporary and only done with permission/supervision from myself or my husband. We talked about the fence being shared property that belongs to the apartment complex and only using the space in our yard. I don't feel giving children a space like this to work with is any differently than teaching them to use an easel indoors and not the walls or drawing with sidewalk chalk in designated areas outside, etc. However, you must also know the personalities of the children you're working with and decide accordingly. Alternatively if this feels uncomfortable you could use plexi-glass outdoors for a vertical work space that is also washable.

I will say that I think the fence came out cleaner when we were done than it was when it was put up in the first place! This is definitely an activity we will be repeating and modifying throughout the months to come. Stay tuned and until then...

Happy Playing!

Officially Outnumbered!

Well, this post is a bit off topic from my usual discussions of play and play activities, but we are excited to announce the arrival of our newest playmate, a beautiful baby girl born this past Sunday afternoon at 4:33PM, weighing in at 6lbs, 11oz. And while we've been outsmarted from the start, Baby N officially makes us happily outnumbered parents! And since I love a good story, here's the story of her eager arrival...

We seem to have a Family Mold...

S, Version 1.0

Y, Version 2.0

Baby N--this girl is gonna need some spunk and a bow!

Netflix & Gestate: I think whatever you binge watch while pregnant translates into your labor and delivery experience. During my pregnancy with S, I binge watched Call the Midwife. The plot line of his labor was a bit slow to unfold, involved a lot of background details along with some setting and character development. The narrator (OB) had a soothing voice and stoic demeanor (he was a lawyer before entering medical school) and the last 15 minutes was utterly exhilarating! During pregnancy with Y, I binge watched Grey's Anatomy. Labor was text book. He arrived on his due date in the OR via c-section. I, however, was heavily medicated after 3 hours of trying to push his giant head out the other way while doing astonishing stunts and Yoga poses with a hand up me like a puppet. Quite clinical, lots of medical terminology and blue scrubs, but super thought provoking and inspiring. And once I finally got to hold him, he was totally McDreamy. With N, I went back to basics and binge watched Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, fully preparing myself to naturally deliver in the woods while in full colonial garb, perhaps using a feather from the hat of my scruffy husband to cut the cord. And while I did (barely) make it to the hospital from the woods, I also had a natural delivery and no epidural. My gown had a few less ruffles, my petticoats were disposable mesh (which is a good thing because I was fresh out of laundered petticoats at home) and I did cut the umbilical cord myself, but I used medical grade scissors and my midwife's name was not Sully, it was Laura.

A Girl Scout is Always Prepared but I dropped out of the Girl Scouts after the second grade and joined 4H... So we obviously knew we were expecting. (Anyone who's ever had contractions on a toilet must question those on shows like I Was Pregnant and I Didn't Know It who actually give birth on one...) But, we may have been a little sluggish on getting certain things ready. I mean, we bought a minivan. But we didn't replace the infant car seat. Or pack a hospital bag. Or have any clothes washed to pack in that proverbial hospital bag. And Pesach preparation and celebration kind of took over. And we had some babysitters lined up. For three weeks from now, around the due date. Two out of three were out of town for the holiday. And while most women nest in the end of pregnancy, I go waddling around the hardware store looking for DIY projects involving nails, wood and garden stakes. I pitch and write a few blog posts. I organize my teaching materials and sort my seeds. So...yeah... We had some running lists of things to do, food I might want at the hospital and afterward (being strictly Kosher and gluten free means we bring all of our own food from home). We sort of had a plan in place, and here's what actually happened...

Speaking of Planning... Having had two very differently sized babies previously, one natural delivery and one C-section, we knew we wanted to be a little more prepared for what to expect and how to proceed this time. We also like a little element of surprise, so we refrained from finding out the gender. I, however had a very strong feeling we were having a girl. So much so, that I would not have been angry or disappointed had things turned out the other way, but I would have been kind of upset I was wrong! (I love being right! I've been right three for three now.) We did, however, do an ultrasound last Thursday to get a sense of size and position. Baby was (not giant) head down and closer to S-sized than Y-sized. I talked to the OB and we planned, knowing that the threshold for waiting would be shorter, to try for a natural delivery. I had been cooking all morning to get ready for the second yomtov days of Pesach to begin at sundown that evening and having monster karate chop in the uterus contractions that subsided only when I turned the (filled only with soapy water) food processor on for 20 minutes to scare the boys out of the kitchen and ate half a Pesach cake by myself. I mentioned this to my doctor and she said "I'm fine with you going into labor tomorrow, you'll be 37 weeks and full term." I said, "tomorrow doesn't work for me, it's a holiday, but Saturday night would be fine." Then I made a plan to help a friend with something briefly on Saturday night and we went into the final days of the holiday.

Ok, OK, Just Get Outta Here! In the story of the Exodus we retell each year at Pesach, we recall that Pharoah and the Egyptians were given 10 plagues, 10 warnings before Pharoah finally consented to let the Jewish people go. So you'd think that meanwhile we'd be packing and preparing. You know, gathering our stuff and maybe baking some bread for the road? Our eventual plan, no matter how long it took, was to leave Mitzrayim, right? But, no! Instead, we busted out with only enough time to bake some crappy cracker from only flour and water because we didn't quite manage to head to the grocery store either for additional ingredients. We'd been pretty busy with some DIY projects and building stuff, you know... Similarly, we also hadn't quite made it to the grocery store post Pesach. We hadn't done laundry. I never packed a hospital bag and our suitcases were in the storage unit. And as I mentioned earlier, with no car seat we couldn't even come home from the hospital if we did end up going! So during those last two days of Pesach, when I woke up with those killer karate chop contractions again and again, I willed them off with threats, ultimatums and grape juice. I had plans on Saturday night, remember? I was also extremely sleepy. I took more naps in two days than I have in the last 2 years. But when Saturday came, I fulfilled my plans, came home and went to bed. At 2:30 my water broke. The same thing happened (even at the same time) when I went into labor with Y.
I went back to bed kind of paralyzed by my lack of planning and preparing. I did cancel my playgroup event scheduled for this week. I renewed my library materials. I mentioned the pending concern to my husband. He went back to bed. I decided to pack a bag. A very small bag. Because that's all we had a home and I had a very small amount of clean laundry including absolutely nothing for a baby. I willed those contractions to wait because I wanted to stay until morning. We needed to get a babysitter for the boys and that proved a little trickier than planned, so guess whose entire family got into the van and came to the hospital the next morning? And guess who held (very gently) her 4 year old's hand, walking to the entrance through a very strong contraction? And guess who is so religious now that she basically ate only pesachdik food for 2 extra days?

My kids are so literal. They take ultimatums very seriously. And when I said "Saturday night would be fine," she went for it. On Sunday morning, we all started together in the labor and delivery room. As much as I didn't plan for the boys to come along, I'm so glad they did. S and Y were a little scared and very excited. S had really wanted to see an ultrasound and hear the heartbeat and he finally got to. "It's so quiet!" he remarked when he heard the monitor. Then they started singing the Baby Shark Song. It was time for everyone to go home. Contractions were very sporadic but the midwife on call was comfortable letting me keep going without intervention as long as 24 hours to see if things would kick in naturally. I listened to music. I texted friends and family members and my husband. I walked. I bounced on the ball. I even did crunches on the ball, you know, to get my body beach ready...and get some contractions going.
Everything seemed to be moving along slowly at the hospital that morning. I overheard nutrition come deliver a grilled cheese and fries to the lady next door. I was jealous. Until I also overheard she'd been there for 2 days. TWO DAYS! And she was still in labor. (But she was also still eating grilled cheese and fries. Did I mention I'm jealous?) My husband was running around frantically trying to get things ready at home (including turning our kitchen back over, finding sitters, buying a car seat and helping with the boys...he's pretty good at multitasking). I had a great nurse helping and I was initially sad it wouldn't be my own OB on call, but the midwife was incredible. G-d really puts the people you need in the room with you in the room with you!

Plot Twist: And Guess Who Walked In Next? When I was in labor with Y, I had an incredible L&D nurse supporting me. She labored with me for all 12 hours of her shift. She had a million tricks to try up her sleeve and she held my hand when I cried after 3 hours of pushing and knew we'd need a C-Section. We waited one more hour after that for the OR to be ready and her shift was ending in 5 minutes. I thanked her and wished her well going home to her own then 18 month old. She'd made an intensely vulnerable experience one of the most empowering ones of my life. And then, as I was wheeled to the OR, she met me in the hallway, after her shift, scrubbed up and ready to join in off the clock. I had a thank you note for her and a gift I held on to for 2 years and was embarrassed to never have sent. When the door opened and my new L&D nurse walked in and said she'd had a change in her shift and a new nurse would be taking over, she apologized and added "but I think you'll like your new nurse--it's the same one who was there when your son was born!" I couldn't believe it! Two years and one week later, here we were again!

"Comfort" Measures During Labor Tuvia finally made it back before 3PM. Things were still slow. I have a lot of comfort measures that work for me during labor, but mostly I was feeling great, if not a bit bored. My nurse came to check in and I mentioned that three things seemed to bring on contractions for me. Being really hungry. Being really thirsty. And being suddenly stressed out. I'd already been hungry. I was so thirsty I was drinking like a fish. It was time for some stress. And it came! My husband got a call from home and our meat oven had inadvertently just become treif (unkosher); S was eating a cheese sandwich from it! So we currently had no oven at all. The dairy one was still in storage. We also had no food to cook, so that was pretty much a moot point. Did I mention I was hungry? I had such a craving for a grilled cheese and fries... I asked him to call a Rav and fix it. And also not to take anymore phone calls in the room. So, meanwhile, phone calls from a particular family member that he didn't take in the room started to come to the front desk with angry and embittered demands to know information on our status and the whereabouts of my husband. Aaaaand there it was. Stress. The contractions started to progress. I asked for an epidural and the nurse called anesthesiology. I needed a bag of saline for 15 minutes and then I could have my epidural. Meanwhile, I sent my husband out to call a certain family member, thinking we'd all be back together getting that epi-goodness in just a bit...

But... things went a lot faster than expected. And by a lot faster, I mean that in 15 minutes or so when the bewildered anesthesiologist came in with his magical cart of pain management, I had just enough space between pushing out my baby au natural and the next contraction to say "sorry 'bout that" and push again. And it was shocking. And I was tired. I'd felt oddly compelled all morning to listen to two songs by Vienna Teng on repeat: "Soon Love, Soon" and "Daughter," but now my mind was silent. The world was at once standing still and rushing by me. And the only thing that kept me going was to say "soon, so soon" with each push because I knew it was almost over and I'd hold my baby and be done.  And that Johnny Cash song "Ring of Fire" does not do justice to the Ring of Fire, but I hummed it in my head anyway. And then she was out. And she was a girl! And I was right! (Did I mention I love being right?) And I was done! And I didn't throw up! And I don't have to make a bris on the 8th day! And my experiences of labors and delivery and our family all felt so incredibly complete and whole.

It Wasn't How I Planned It, It Was Better We all know the saying "we plan, G-d laughs." I had a lot of plans about how this would go down. Some of them panned out. Some didn't. I couldn't have asked for anything better than what actually happened. I never felt strongly pro or against epidurals. I used them with my first two labors because it felt like the best option when labors were long and I got tired. I assumed I'd have one at some point with this labor and I didn't. It was so incredibly amazing to have that experience in my repertoire. I was never glued to delivering one way or the other. My hospital board had two items under the "goals" category: Healthy Baby and No Vomiting. I achieved both, thank G-d. (At one point my husband had to choose quickly between holding my hand and staying with me or leaving the room to get a bucket. Either way, if everything failed, he was going to have to wipe #2 off the board.) And everything happened as it was meant to. Everyone in the story was meant to be there. Every detail was just as it needed to be. There may have been a script and a plot line, but our Holy Babysitter is in charge of that. We just carry out the roles and lines down here. And I am so over the moon with our bundle of joy; we all are. Baby N's first same means "Comfort" and she truly lives up to it. Through a very uncomfortable pregnancy and a whirlwind of being so ready and not ready at all and through the settling of the dust at home and a roller coaster of emotions and hormones, she is Comfort. Her full name is after a great and inspiring Jewish leader and I have no doubt she will live up to that as well. She is already full of squish and spunk. Some pink and bows will be added in due time...

Welcome to the family, sweet girl. May you grow to Torah, to Chuppah and to Ma'asim Tovim (good deeds), and, of course, years and years of happy playing!

The Single Most Important Tool for Play That Money Can't Buy

Many parents and educators put a great deal of thought and intention into what we provide our children with for the purpose play. We know that play is important. We know it is truly the work of childhood. We know from this act stem all of their physical, emotional and social development. And so we are mindful when we peruse the toy aisles. We carefully select the books we read and especially those we read to them. We surround them in spaces designed artfully and intentionally. Perhaps we adhere to particular theories of play that we feel support their process. On your mark, get set, hurry up and play!

We have put so much thought and respect into the space and the items that fill it and the people we let in and the routines we surround that with. But there is one thing that I would consider of value above anything else. One "loose part," one "toy," one indispensable element of play that is often overlooked, abused and even neglected or forgotten: time.

Research shows that children of all ages and abilities have a common need for adequate time to truly engage in the process of creative play. An article from the International Journal of Early Childhood Environmental Education entitled "Playing With Nature: Supporting Preschoolers' Creativity in Natural Outdoor Classrooms" sites through a qualitative research study of two outdoor preschool environments that among various factors and elements put into place and space, "large blocks of uninterrupted time"  were a significant source of promoting creative play and problem solving for preschool aged children.

And then we view the typical routine of the ECE classroom: Children arrive, settle in, perhaps play a bit or participate in table activities. Circle Time. Snack Time. Outdoor Time. Group Time. Specials. Extracurricular Activities. Lunch Time. Play Time. Nap Time. Enrichment Time. Pick up Time. After School lessons and sports. Dinner Time. Story Time. Bed Time. We fill every moment of their time. We even have a market for products to support this. Visual timers, safe-to-wake clocks, Siri, Alexa... And phrases like "Time Management," as though time needs an external source to overrule her. And why?

There are so many things a child must know before kindergarten. If we don't set the pace, we are not preparing our children for real life. If we do not fill the space between the minutes and the hours, they will grow bored. And we also interpret what we see. Children who may be boisterous and rowdy in the classroom or playroom. Children who may be "disengaged" and quiet or withdrawn. Children who are "not playing functionally" with the toys and materials at hand. Children who are experiencing conflict or "behaviors" or otherwise acting inappropriately. It must be time to redirect. To change activity. To switch up the routine.

It's uncomfortable for us. We have an ingrained adult impression of time now that likely was imposed on us from early on. We have a small threshold for waiting and boredom. We are used to instant gratification and technological advances support us in this. Our own pace is often so rapid that by the end of the day we're not sure if we're chasing the clock or it is chasing us. We often say things like "I need to slow down" or "I wish time would just stand still." " The days are short but the hours are long." But we continue to need to fill the spaces between words and between minutes. We can tolerate neither silence nor space.

I feel that so many of the battles we have with our tiny humans and within ourselves are not anything more than battling the clock and the ownership of each tic and tock. We say things like "it's your time you are wasting," but is it really? Or is it mine? Does anyone really claim to own time?

It is also my belief that a great deal of the issues we see today in our children's learning and development are related not to inadequate parenting, inadequate nutrition, inadequate knowledge or inadequate physical activity, but rather due to inadequate time. We have expectations of what play and learning should look like and beyond that, we have expectations of how much time should pass before, during and after that process. This particular task takes me this much time, it should be the same for everyone, no?

Children Who Are Slow to Warm Up
Some children enter a space and are not immediately engaged and immersed in play and activity. Perhaps they are looking around. Perhaps they pace the perimeter. Perhaps they seem withdrawn or like they don't know how and where to begin. So we push them along, we "make a choice for them" (because not choosing is not a choice). What would happen if we didn't?  What if we tolerated our discomfort with a child not immediately engaged in play and waited and watched...

Children Who Flock to the Familiar
Some children day after day, given a plethora of new activities and toys and materials will flock to the same spot or same activity. We label them as reluctant to try new things. And when the 15 minute block of "free time" is over, they still have only played with Magnetiles for the millionth day in a row. What would have happened if the block was not over in 15 minutes?

Children Using Materials Inappropriately
A child is carrying dolls from the dollhouse over to the block area. That's not where the dolls go, they go in the dollhouse. And, oh my goodness, the pompoms from the craft shelf are in the kitchen set being mixed voraciously in a pot! Now the children are wreaking havoc on the setup of the room and it must be time for clean up.

Children Who Act Rowdy or Boisterously in the Environment may be expressing unfiltered joy, excitement and pleasure--unfiltered expression of emotions is the only way young children know to express themselves. Their lack of inhibition may not be what we as adults with years of practice at bottling up, masking and stifling emotions are comfortable with, but it is what is natural to our young ones. The same goes for expressions of frustration, disappointment or other tumultuous struggles in play. Do we rush to the "rescue" to help them "calm" their bodies (i.e.: tame their flames of emotion) and to "relieve" them from the discomfort of a tumbling block tower rather than allow them the opportunity to grieve that loss and rebuild? And in doing so, are we not also putting them into developmental debt? A buy now, pay later credit plan for soothing the discomforts of natural play emotion to the detriment of creative thinking and problem solving?

Children Who Cease and Desist From Activity
Little Sally was so busy playing with the baby doll in dramatic play but now she's stopped and is just pacing the room, seemingly looking for something to do. She needs a prompt. She needs a reminder to choose an activity.

They Are Starting to Argue
It's over a toy being shared. It's over the use of the space. It's over whose idea is implemented into the block building or who knocked it down when someone wasn't done yet. It's an issue at home and in the classroom. Conflict happens. But rather than allow it to happen and resolve, we do a fancy little dance called The Redirect. Heaven forbid the children experience the tension of conflict and resolving it; we can do that for them and it will save time.

They Will Be Bored
If we don't fill every moment of every minute of every hour of every day, the children will be bored. Gosh, that's uncomfortable for me to even think about...

But what if one day we just didin't. What if we didn't make their choices for them or nudge them along? What if we waited out the Magnetile play only to discover that after the comfort of the familiar, he felt ready to explore the novel? What if even though the function and space of a material was clear to us, we considered it is also clear to them? And that there can be more than one way to play with the same toy? That purpose is internal; not external. What if we let go of the parameters of our own tolerance of conflict and allowed children to discover and establish their own? And what if we let them be bored? What if we looked at child's pause in play as a semi-colon and not a period.

Something incredible happens to me again and again as a parent and an educator. I have a need to fill space and time. We need an activity. We need a provocation or an invitation or a theme or direction. And then, one day, I draw a blank. Either I lack a specific idea or direction. Or I lack the time personally to implement the million and two specific ideas and directions I have in my back pocket. And all that is left is space and time. Or even more anxiety inducing, what if I did put in the time and effort and set up an amazing space and provocation only to see children exhibiting unexpected behaviors with it--not immediately engaging, or using the materials differently than I'd envisioned or playing only briefly and then walking away? I have an attachment, you see, to my ideas and my space and my TIME. But then I step back. I stop and I a breathe and I let go. And the child who was not immediately interested eventually does step in and engage. Or the child who's using the materials differently actually had an amazingly well thought out plan and purpose, something I had not envisioned in my limited adult scope. Or the child who played for a moment and fled fulfilled her purpose in that space and carried it with her proudly to the next portion of her day.

Time, its function, its purpose and how we fill it is individual to each and every one of us. Our adult discomforts around it are not the same for our children. On the contrary, many need and crave the space of open time to truly engage in creative thinking, problem solving and meaningful play. I can remember as a child watching this particular clip from The Muppet Show and feeling amused by the bubbles and explosions and whimsy. Now that I'm grown, it always makes me cry. My own time has been hijacked but it doesn't need to be so for my children. Perhaps it's too big and too elusive to store in a bottle, but perhaps I can also open myself up enough to allow it to rightfully exist in its own independent space.

If I could make days last forever

If words could make wishes come true,

I'd save every day like a treasure, and then

Then, I would spend them with you

I invite you to step back. To breathe. To take a moment or even a minute and maybe, if you can, longer. I allow you the opportunity to take that moment, that minute, that hour and not need to fill it from brim to brim. I allow you the space of that moment, that minute and that hour to experience, to notice, to attach and then let go of the discomfort. And instead to watch. To observe. To see children given so much by those who care so deeply for their well-being finally being given the one thing that money can't buy: enough time. And truly, for that moment, that minute and that hour, giving it to yourself as well.

Happy Playing!

The Pedagogy Police

If you’ve been around these blog parts for a while, you’ve likely noticed I feel strongly about one thing when it comes to parenting and education: the importance of play. And beyond that, I’m pretty eclectic in my approach. Perusing bookshelves and philosophies when it comes to choosing how we parent and educate can feel like standing at the counter of the ice cream shop when there are 692 flavors to choose from. How many scoops can you get? Will you be back here soon? Will you choose only one flavor or maybe try a few? What if you have buyer’s remorse? And what if that only emerges once you’ve eaten all but one bite? Or maybe you’ll really like mint chocolate chip and you’ll choose it again and again and again but never try rocky road. You’ve heard it’s good but how do you know? Mint chocolate chip is familiar, you know you like it, it’s predictable and satisfies the urge, but you may go your whole life on one flavor never experiencing the 691 others (not to mention several limited time only seasonal varieties that come and go throughout the years)…

I have been in and out of classrooms over the years where pedagogy ruled over the play. Strict adherence to one particular model was of the utmost importance, to the benefit or to the detriment of the key players—the children themselves. We have names and faces and texts and evidence and data and documentation to support our approach. And at the end of the day it is a game of who said it best? Rudolph Steiner? Maria Montessori? The community of Reggio Emilia? You begin to hear statements with words like “always,” “never,” “should...” There is going to be a lifetime ahead of “always,” “nevers,” and “shoulds.” Why are we already applying them in the early years and, of all things, to children’s play and learning?

On the one hand, we all agree that play is the work of the young child. We’ve seen it in every theory and pedagogical model phrased in one way or another. We disagree, however, on how this looks in action. Children should use loose parts for play, only open ended materials and objects without a particular function or purpose. They should use these creatively and learn through moving and manipulating them within their environment. Children should engage in symbolic play using toys and props that mimic those used in “real” (re: adult) life scenarios. Children should learn through provocations and invitations to expand on their ideas and curiosities about the world. Children should be given access to a variety of intentional materials to use in learning. The purpose of these materials is singular, serving a meaningful function--that stick is always to be used to measure the distance between ascending blocks and never to be used as a drumstick. Children should always work seated at a table, sitting at an unrolled mat, outdoors, indoors, while moving, while sitting still. Children should have ample and adequate time to engage in play and learning; they should choose how to spend their time and if and when to shift gears. Children will grow bored if they remain at one activity too long, we need to push them along to avoid this. All art should represent something created by an adult. No art should represent something created by an adult. 

Even the aisles of toy stores tell us what we should introduce or not introduce to our children: Toys should be gender role specific. Toys should make noises and light up. Toys should be made from natural materials. Toys should be colorful and durable to engage a child's interest and withstand his strength. Children should play with their own things. Children should play with our things. Children need a lot of toys so that they will never have to share or become bored. Children need only a few toys so that they will learn to focus and persevere. Children should be given access and exposure to real objects so they will learn how to use them and how to be safe. Children should be given access and exposure to objects that mimic real objects so that they can play and imagine about the real thing within the safety of plastic.

We may resonate strongly with a particular pedagogy or educational model. We may resonate so strongly with it, that within it we become rigid and at risk of hijacking our children's play and learning process. I compare early education models to nutrition. I view nutrition as a holistic approach. For me, personally, it works better to add in foods that are nutritionally dense without restricting foods that are less so. Some of my friends do very well to see food only as fuel, energy in, energy out. Some do very well to adhere strictly to a diet with certain nutritional components and without certain others. I, myself, must adhere to a diet free of wheat and gluten and I also choose to keep a strictly kosher diet. However, I see a place at my table for both ice cream and carrot sticks. They serve different functions, but I value food both as fuel for my body and nourishment for my soul. I like the experience of enjoying flavor and company at the table. And while there is a biologically different value to a carrot than to an ice cream cone, both play a meaningful role. 

I want to share a funny little anecdote from my own childhood, growing up as the daughter of an early childhood educator. My mother was quite progressive in her teaching and parenting style. We were given old VCRs to take apart and tinker with. We had ample time to play independently in our yard. And, in the corner of the playroom in a cardboard box never to be unpacked no matter how many years went by between a move were a tall stack of coloring books. The one that was always supposed to stay on top was a more "progressive" coloring book with drawing prompts rather than classic black and white images to color in or mazes to complete. My mother favored process art activities and we did quite a lot of this on our own or with her. But once in a while, I hid down in that corner, removed the top coloring book from the box and sat for hours filling in the lines of a classic, cheap coloring book. We also had a huge bin of Barbie dolls and accessories we could play with but my mother would not assist in dressing/undressing. Rather, if we got into a bind, she might give us some fabric and ribbon and scissors to create an outfit we could put on easily. We knew she "hated" Barbie and we played deeply into our dramatic plots for days and weeks at a time.  Years later when I began my own teaching career, I walked into my new classroom as the lead general Ed teacher (we were an inclusive program) and got ready to revamp the classroom inventory, the first things I hauled off, one under each arm, were a stack of coloring books and a bin of Barbie dolls. About an hour later, I met my co-teacher, a special educator with 15 years of experience on me. She was carrying two things, one under each arm: a stack of coloring books and a bin of Barbies. And so began my year of cowering under her glory, a year I would describe as the most difficult and most rewarding in my career. I learned more from watching her and the children than anything else I can pinpoint. My own children have full access to open ended materials for play and process art and having two boys, I don't currently have any Barbie dolls yet, but they practice early writing skills, spatial awareness and even plain ol' relaxation coloring in coloring books right out in the open, no box needed. Sometimes, I color with them...

And if there is one thing I have learned and observed in working in a range of environments with a range of children it is this: they will play. If the room is set up to explore loose parts, they will play. If there are toy fire trucks and pretend food and baby dolls that have eyes that close when you lay them back, they will play. If they outdoors and there is a playground, they will play. If you are outdoors and there is no playground, they will play. If everything is painted in hushed and neutral tones, they will play. If it is brightly colored with fluorescent lighting, they will play. And when they play, they learn. Are they playing the right way? Who are we to judge? Is playing with a fire truck that lights up and sounds a siren when a button is pushed on the top less valuable to my sons than building a fire from red, orange and yellow play silks, collected sticks and stones and roasting a playdough marshmallow over the flames? Who am I to say? I can say that I personally have a limited amount of patience for the noise of that fire truck, but thank goodness for Bubbies who stray from the birthday wish lists and know that my boys love these noisy toys just as much as they love sticks, stones and scarves.

If our intent as parents and educators is to foster an environment that is conducive to a child's learning and play processes, we need to let go of the idea that we (adults) know or even remember what that looks like for a child. Each child is different and within that, each child is different from moment to moment. Her needs, her curiosities, her fears and her wonders shift and change throughout life. In one moment, she needs to rock a small baby doll, wrapped in a blanket and help her to sleep. In another moment, she needs the large body movement of lifting heavy blocks and building towers to knock and ramps and tunnels for balls to roll. He needs the opportunity to climb up the playground ladder and slide down the twisty tunnel just as much as he needs to use a stick in sword play while standing on top of a large boulder. She needs a tray of paper and access to real artists' pastels just as much as the Paw Patrol coloring book and name brand crayons. The only thing that matters, or at least the one that matters most is that the play is theirs. They apply the boundaries, the meaning, the length of time and the purpose. When we come in, whether it is to helicopter over them or to dictate their space or the function of their playthings or the length of time to engage (and what that engagement should look like), we hijack their play. It is akin to plagiarizing someone's work and even defacing/rewriting what they have created to meet our own personal agenda. 

Social media provides an incredible canvas of support for parents and educators alike. And it also can be restrictive. Pedagogy Police troll these bridges of communication between people who are at once experts and novices in their fields. I think that we must establish firmly our intention and then, at the end of every day, establish it again. My intention as a parent and an educator is to provide an environment--both physically as well as emotionally/spiritually that nurtures my children's process of learning through play. I understand that within that framework, their environment will frequently change and evolve. I understand that within that framework their attention and focus will frequently shift. I understand that their version of play will look different from moment to moment and it will also look different from mine. I understand that all play has value and all play has purpose. All play is theirs, however, and not mine. I am blessed to be invited into their world of wonder and when I am invited, I do join in. It is a gift to be welcomed into a world of wonder I've all but forgotten, if even only for a moment. When we honor our children in their process of play and self discovery, we nurture the child still within ourselves, still exploring discovering this world for the very first time. For even if this is your 12,426th rotation around the sun, it is still the first time you've made the journey at 12,426 days old!

Happy Playing!