We are NOT Joking Around, Here

This summer I have been getting lots of advice on the impending baby situation that will be happening this fall.  

Highlights of this advice have included:

• A friend's marathon diaper tutorial that I like to refer to as, "More than Any Person Should Ever Know about Cloth Diapers!"
• The suggestion from a homeowner whose house we were thinking of renting, when it was revealed that the second bedroom would actually be used to store her furniture, "You could put your baby in the doorway."
• Baby stores' fantastic advice on the limitless ways I should spend money on my baby (one such way: a device that straps on to your belly and flashes lights in patterns to your unborn baby while you sit back and picture the future genius applying to colleges at age 5)

Another valuable source of baby information came from my third graders at the end of the school year.  Last month I posted some of their advice here (including Ammari's advice on what size baby I should aim for), but the students had plenty more to say on the subject of babies.

I think they might have been a bit concerned that the survey I gave them signaled an apparent lack of knowledge on my part of anything having to do with babies.  "We are a little worried for you" some of their advice seemed to say.  "If you are asking eight-year-olds for advice on babies, clearly we need to start at the beginning.  If nobody has told you this yet, BABIES POOP AND PEE CONSTANTLY.  We kind of thought you might have known that, but in case you didn't, just plan for so much poop you wouldn't believe.  We are NOT joking around, here."

It's not like we haven't discussed bodily functions plenty in the third grade.  In fact, it is precisely having taught elementary school for many years that has prepared me for a wide variety of bathroom-related situations, from bathroom accidents in class to animals pooping out plants.  There have been unexpected things found (and report on!) in the toilet as well as names of feminine hygiene products accidentally blurted out in class.  Loudly.  On two different occasions.

Nonetheless, I was asking the third graders for advice, and they did their best to educate me on what I'll be in for.

"They use the bathroom a lot (in their pants).  They need a lot of diapers."

OK--they use the bathroom a lot, I'll remember that.  And in their pants is what you're saying?  That is gross, but got it.  Note to self: Get diapers.

"She will probably poop on you if you take her diaper off." 

Good to know.  Revised note to self: Get diapers.  Put them on baby.  Do not take them off baby.

"Make sure they don't poop when you're asleep."

"Be ready with a diaper at all times."

"They poop a lot!"

"Have 1,000,000 diapers."

Right.  Based on how many of the kids chose diapers (and the contents of said diapers) as their top advice priority, I'm thinking there's got to be something to this advice.

Some of the other suggestions and cautions on the kids' surveys extended the theme of establishing baby basics.  "Judging from your naiveté of the whole diaper dimension, we might need to make a few things really explicit for you, Ms. Sarah."

"Don't put the baby's room under a staircase because you can bump your head."

Well, I was thinking of the Harry Potter treatment for raising our little one, but will now consider myself advised on the appropriate nursery location. 

"Don't drop the baby!!"

Check.  I can see how that would be less than ideal.

Written again, on the reverse of the same student's paper, in bold letters and in "Seriously, I mean it" style with gigantic exclamation points:

So to recap: Just do whatever Megan did for diapers, beware of belly devices promising genius for $39.95, do not ever (ever!) drop the baby, who should be wearing a diaper (or multiple!) at all times, in her room which is not to be placed under a staircase.  I will try my best.

(May Work, May Not)

One important skill when working with children is to be able to manufacture and sell The Next Best Thing when The Actual First Best Thing has gone terribly wrong.

One year, the Actual First Best Thing was a field trip to go skating.  Clearly, ditching any tests to get on a bus and slip and slide around all morning on some ice was a great plan.  Unfortunately, when the mechanisms that create the frozen wonderland of slipping and sliding malfunctioned the morning of the planned trip, Actual First Best Thing melted into a sad puddle of disappointment.

Think, think!  I told myself when I got the news from the rink.  I cannot break this to a class full of expectant would-be ice skaters by saying, "Actual First Best Thing is not happening, children.  We have been let down.  Now take out your vocabulary books."  I must quickly manufacture a Next Best Thing and then sell the heck out of it as the replacement. 

Fortunately, sock skating around the gym was a cost-free, set-up free, materials-free, miracle of a  Next Best Thing.  Phew!

This skill is no less important with blog readers.  I'm afraid I have let you down with the Actual First Best Thing that one tunes into a blog for.  You know, um, blogging.  Yep, that is precisely what I haven't done in far too long, but how about the Next Best Thing--sock blogging!  Or maybe that was just a situation-specific Next Best Thing trick....

The Next Best Thing to having kept up with posts sharing funny kid stories over the past two months is that I'm back with a new post every week for the next two months!  Yep--tune in every Monday throughout July and August for new kid stories and quotes.  I've got a stockpile! 

On with the typing of things onto the computer!  At least, I think that's how I remember this whole blogging thing working.  After all of this ado, we're now getting to the actual post within this extended post.

(May Work, May Not)

Recently, I've taken a couple of measures to generate some pretty excellent blog material.  Measure # 1: Get pregnant.  Measure # 2: Tell third graders I am pregnant.  Measure # 3: Give third graders survey to ask for their advice about babies.  It's all for you, readers, and has paid off pretty well.

Third graders keep extensive stores of advice on hand for really any situation you could think of, just waiting for someone to ask them.  Over the years, I've had the opportunity to benefit from eight-year-olds' advice about love, Parent Night furniture arrangement, nutrition, travel, and marriage.

The subject of babies is no exception to the list of topics about which kids will liberally advise.  Most of the baby advice I received was heavily focused around diapers and crying (as my life will surely be as of October....).

Caden, though, was adamant that the most important thing to know about a new baby is what job she will do.  To accompany this advice, he illustrated an extremely complicated picture of, well, it is unclear.  However, after much analysis I have determined from at least one section of the illustration that Caden's fear is that if I don't choose a career path for the baby immediately, she will end up with a trash can on her head playing football.   You know--the profession of that.

Ammari alone provided as much advice as the entire rest of the class combined, and I am determined to follow all of it.

• Always celebrate birthdays for more fun.

 Yes--I am definitely going to celebrate the baby's birthday.  I mean, who doesn't like more fun?

• Have good times with the new person in the family for life.  

There is a certain resigned tone to this one.  "This kid is going to be around for a looong time whether you like it or not, so you better have some good times with her."  But at any rate, I will plan for good times.

• To stop a baby from crying, turn on the vacuum cleaner (may work may not).  

I appreciate the disclaimer on that one.  Ammari is under no illusions that these tips will reveal any magic solutions for a crying baby, and wanted to prepare me for the possibility of failure.  But with all the good times and more fun, there will surely be hardly any crying anyway.

This is perhaps the best advice of all.  None of my baby advice books (by supposed professionals!) ever made this suggestion, which I feel is a definite oversight on their part.  I am making it my mission to indeed have a small baby.  Surely they have got to be easier to take care of, and I can only imagine how pleased I will be with Ammari's advice and my decision to follow it once labor rolls around.

See you next Monday!

Boring but Cute

There is nothing like moving to a new apartment to highlight the most un-fun features of being an adult.  My husband and I moved out of our apartment this week and are currently on a road trip across the country to our new pad.  This process has been chock full of those "being an adult" tasks like Cleaning the Oven (a task which we managed to put off for 7 years until this sparklingly clean oven would be enjoyed by not us), Vacuuming the Closets, and well, Cleaning the Everything.

The main up side to adulthood, of course, is that you get to use hot tubs.  At least, that seemed to be the one salient benefit of being a grown-up according to Hanna and Tyrica in their book, How to Be a Kid.  In addition to their list of pros and cons of being a kid, the girls also laid out a summary of life stages.  Essentially there is a fantastic period of work-free glory days sandwiched between long stretches of boring.

At least babies get to be cute and boring.  We adults just get strict and boring.  And oven cleaning.

New Addition

"It's weird" said Jasmine the other day as I came around to help kids with their morning work.  "When I came to school, I was an only child.  When I go home I'm going to have a brother!"

image: ghgiftshop.org

Indeed, it must have been a weird day for Jasmine--while she was finding lines of symmetry in math and reading The Cat's Meow in book club, the family structure she'd been used to for eight years was changing.

A third grader's role in welcoming a new addition to the family is to let everyone know the exciting news and to adjust to being an older sibling.  The next day, Jasmine was the proudest big sister.  She shared with everyone at morning meeting about her new brother and even texted me a picture of him that night.

As Jasmine knows, though, the mother's role in the birth of a new baby involves a bit more, well--pain.

"It's so exciting that you have a baby brother!" I told her.

"My mom wasn't all that excited" she replied.



Perhaps one or two of the kids will go home and share the news of Jasmine's new brother with their own parents, as Danielle did the year that Kevin's family adopted a baby.

"Kevin's got a new sister!" Danielle told her mom in the car after school the day that Kevin had shared the news.

"Oh yeah?" her mom replied.

"Yeah.  She's imported" explained Danielle.

And as Jasmine gets to find out about all the joys of diaper changing, she will no doubt amass her own arsenal of baby advice, much like the collection of wisdom shared by the second graders last year who  already knew a thing or two about taking care of little siblings.

Dreadful

The topic of discussion today in the second grade was the eating of babies. Yes, babies. Being eaten.

We were working on synthesizing, and I used Shel Silverstein's poem, Dreadful, so we could do some thinking as the poem went on, and then see how our thinking changed as we got more information.


We began with the first stanza.

Someone ate the baby.
It's rather sad to say.
Someone ate the baby
So she won't be out to play.

We'll never hear her whiney cry
Or have to feel if she is dry.
We'll never hear her asking, "Why?"
Someone ate the baby.

At this point, the kids had some guesses about the fate of this poor baby. Mariah thought it might be an alligator. Charity figured it seemed more like the work of cannibals. DeAngelo thought maybe the mom or the dad was the culprit. When pressed for some text evidence to implicate the parents, the kids pointed out that the narrator seems to think the baby quite annoying, what with the whining, the diaper changing, the crying.

Someone ate the baby.
It's absolutely clear
Someone ate the baby
'Cause the baby isn't here.

We'll give away her toys and clothes.
We'll never have to wipe her nose.
Dad says, "That's the way it goes."
Someone ate the baby.

Someone ate the baby.
What a frightful thing to eat!
Someone ate the baby
Though she wasn't very sweet.

The discussion progressed to some comments which were surprisingly sympathetic to the reasons someone might have for getting rid of a baby. "The mom probably has to be up all night with the baby," said Nikki as she clapped her hand to her forehead and shook her head at the thought. "Stressing out--she probably got rid of the baby so she could give away all her misery!"

It was a heartless thing to do.
The policemen haven't got a clue.
I simply can't imagine who
Would go and (burp) eat the baby.

We finished out the rest of the poem and made some inferences based on the last line. Not only did we get to talk about a baby getting swallowed up, but we also got to talk about burping!

Lots of Milk!

The art teacher is having a baby this month! The teachers organizing her baby shower asked all of the staff to share some advice for the new mother. Seeing as I have very little expertise on being a mom, I turned this task over to the second graders who have had experience caring for little brothers and sisters. As with their marriage advice, they shared helpful tips, but also some stuff they just made up.


-When I take care of a baby, I would sit in a rocking chair and rock back and forth.
-Make sure she has a nap by 2:30 or 2:45.
-Don't overfeed it.
-This goes for when it's zero to one and a half: Give it mommy milk and don't let it eat bad food.
-Let it sleep from 11:00 to 2:00.
-You have to give the baby care so he won't be sad.
-Sing it songs. Sleep 13 hours a day. Lots of milk!
-Give it baby clothes.
-Give the baby 2 naps.
-After it gets food or milk, burp it or it is going to throw up.

Get a Prenup

Mr. Nate and I are coming up on our third wedding anniversary soon! The year that we got married, I asked my third graders how to know if someone is right for you to marry.

If they do stuff for you
If he’s cute and doesn’t argue.
Only if he never cheated you before.
If he comes home right after work that means it.
Think about the good times and bad times. If you had a lot of bad times, he is not your man.
You have to be in common. Try identifying him to find some things you have in common.
If he loves you for your money, no. But if he doesn’t, yes.

Fortunately, Nate is cute and also doesn’t argue, so he passed that test with flying colors. Next I asked what Mr. Nate and I should do to have a happy marriage. Much of it is actually very good advice. A strong relationship definitely requires honesty and asking personal questions. However, some of their responses suggest that the third graders seemed to be envisioning Mr. Nate’s role in our marriage as a weekend childcare provider or gold digger.

When you are on your honeymoon, ask some personal questions.
You should try not to fight and be happy.
Don’t lie to Mr. Nate.
Ask how your day was.
Don’t look at other men.
Be kind, but honest when your husband asks your opinion of something.
If you have a bad day, tell Mr. Nate.
Talk to him about anything. Don’t be scared
Buy him something. At the reception party give the present to him.
If you have a baby, Mr. Nate can always keep the baby on the weekend.
Get a prenup so if you have a divorce, you stick with your money.