Sacramento Parent Magazine

Last week, my kids celebrated the anniversary of Dr. Seuss’s birthday with a week of activities at their school.

There were spirit days where students dressed in Seussical themes. One day everyone was encouraged to wear their pajamas, another a crazy color combination of clothing, then it was wear red-white-and-blue followed by all green - in honor of the tale “Green Eggs and Ham” of course. The middle school-age students at our K-8 campus created Seussville and lunchtime activities along with a series of poster put up around campus (see photos).

The school’s PTSA group hosted a Family Reading Night during which many of Dr. Seuss’s popular titles were read aloud to listeners of all ages. There’s something special about hearing “The Sneetches” - or any of Dr. Seuss’s stories - read aloud. As a parent, it is not often that I get to sit back and listen to someone read to me.

The week long festivities were a fun tribute to one of the best children’s authors ever. It was also the perfect time to enjoy the pleasure of reading his words and the insight they still  give us today.

(Sydney is guest posting today. She re-tells the story of breaking her wrist last year.)

When I was standing on that wobbling step stool in my closet, I thought I always got lucky and nothing would happen to me. I was wrong. I knew I should have listened to my mom.

One Monday morning I was getting something in my closet, standing on this tipsy step stool, and I slipped, landed on my right wrist the wrong way.

I cried for 10min before my mom and dad came rushing in and helped me. They talked and talked until they finally decided to let me stay home.

I slipped around eight fifteen. I went to the doctor’s office at eight thirty-ish. When Dad and I got there, the doctor took x-rays of my wrist. When we all took a look at the the x-rays the doctor pointed and said,”Right here in your bone is slightly out of place. You will need a cast but first, we will give you a brace and you will only have to wear it for one day.”

I chose a blue brace and a green Ace Bandage. When we got home, it was one forty five so there wasn’t much of school left. To make the time fly I wrote a short story, drew pictures, and watched some T.V.

Finally! Britt (my baby sitter or nanny) and my brother Sam were home. Britt was in a good mood and took us out for ice cream. On the way there I remembered, I have a presentation due tomorrow. It was a good thing I finished it.

While I was eating my chocolate ice cream with Brownie bites, chocolate chips, and chocolate syrup I felt kind of stupid. I broke the rules and broke my wrist because of it. That proves even the smallest things can lead to big consequences.

Love ya, Syd

My “Mormor” (literally “mother’s mother”) lived in Denmark , and she was my favorite grandmother, despite the distance. As a young child, my mother would often take us to Denmark in the summer to visit her parents. I remember picking fresh raspberries at their Villa Lu, and making homemade raspberry pudding. Sundays we would take walks in the deer park, and every day we would have afternoon tea. When I was in college, I studied at the University of Copenhagen, and again spent many leisurely afternoons with Mormor, always sharing tea at a lovely set table with fresh flowers and candles. We would have Danish pastries from the local bakery, sip herbal tea from delicate china cups, and talk about everything!
I am now “Mormor” and have five grandaughters (and four grandsons) of my own. I have carried on the tea party tradition with them, creating more fond memories. For Christmas one year, we had a Girl’s Tea Party, with all the Moms and grandaughters. We set a pretty table with the best china and silver, and had yummy fruit tarts and peppermint tea, and giggled happily all afternoon.

For my Mom’s 83rd birthday, my daughter Emily, granddaughter Bailey and I went to the Partea House in Folsom to enjoy a European High Tea together. We wore hats and boas, and each picked out special cups, feeling very fancy dancy indeed.
Just recently I had a special princess tea party with Taeya. For two days we prepared invitations, made rhinestone-studded crowns, painted a jewelry box and made heart cookies. The anticipation was as delightful as the event, which brightened up a dreary mid-winter afternoon.

The book Come to Tea by Stephanie Dunnewind has delightful suggestions and photos for a variety of theme tea parties. Or, if you’re in the Roseville area, A Dash of Panache hold regular afternoon tea sessions and special high tea seatings.

Cheers!

He’s changing so much it’s driving me crazy.

He got braces a while back and he doesn’t look like the little baby boy we spoil.
He looks like an elementary school kid that has puffy cheeks. He holds his mouth funny. Like a smile. I’m not sure if he knows he’s doing it. I keep thinking he’s smiling at me but he’s really just adjusting to the braces.

When he eats he puts his left hand against his head almost like that of an old man. Pondering the October of his days, while its only February of his life.

He uses one word replies:
Nothing.
Good.
Ok.

Nothing like his sister. She uses lots of words and a full complement of emotions.

His eyes are full of kindness, but they don’t see the future. They only see the now.

The bark burning in the fire pit or the sweet slur-pee after baseball practice. The next ten-seconds…the next minute is too far away.

He dances about in shorts and no shirt whenever he can.

He is like a shark and he can’t stop moving…can’t stop moving. He doesn’t think it but he acts like he will cease to exist if he stops moving.

He can’t stop moving. A shark that searches for more prey…he looks for the next person to friend. He needs friends. He needs people to notice he got braces. He needs to tell his contemporaries that he still exists every day. He’s so different from me, but is he… really?

He runs to the sound of the telephone. The call is not for him, but it might as well be a call at the firehouse. The ‘call’ is inside him and ringing like a 4 alarm structure fire. He reacts like he’s a first responder to an emergency.

His mind and body is in constant motion, only resting when sleeping.

Unconscious.

It comes each night to his eight years but only for a few hours…

Some days I stop and take a long look at my children:

The curve of their chins, long lashes resting on soft cheeks and dark locks.

Some days they resemble the toddlers still found in photographs.

Some days my two act more mature than their combined years.

Some days I yearn for years past when they fit so snug in my lap.

Some days I hold them there, ignoring lanky limbs that dangle from the old armchair.

Some days, like this one, I simply cherish their presence.

Today they are here. And they are mine.

5:05pm Apologizing for not remembering to bring a snack upon preschool pick up twice in a row.
5:06pm Can feel steely glare penetrating the back of my head from one pissed off 4 year old.
5:07pm Stewing 4 year old pipes up, “ I see you remembered your lunch,” cutting his eyes to my lone lunch bag resting on the seat, “but NOT my snack.”

I am pretty sure I was called something other than my given name at the end of that statement.

Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to be an adult volunteer for a 7th grade Challenge Day at my neighborhood school.

I spent a good part of the day prior trying to talk myself out of going, even though I have been looking forward to participating since dropping out due to a family emergency last year. Grumpy and overwhelmed by the clutter in my house, I kept telling myself I could better use seven hours on chores.

In the end, I managed to get up, get the kids out of the house and arrive to the school on time for the program. Three days later, I am so glad I did! Friends’ descriptions did not prepare me for this fantastic and intense experience.

Challenge Day is a series of activities - some fun, some serious - meant to break down the facade people tend to hide behind. By becoming “real” with one another and sharing our fears and dreams, participants develop a better understanding of their fellow human beings.

One of the exercises had participants cross a line every time something described applied to them. As I watched many young people cross the line again again, I was overwhelmed with the reality of how much children have to endure - from racism to the loss of a parent.

When I returned to my small group, I shared what I learned from the exercise… If I had known other kids were also facing challenges at home and at school when I was their age, life would have been just a little easier. This is something I want to hold onto as my kids get older.

If you live in the Sacramento region, and pay any attention at all to news of public education’s demise, you’ve heard about plans by several local school districts to close/consolidate campuses in the coming year(s).

I live in the Natomas Unified School District where a history of poor decisions, poor money management and equally poor public relations make the board of trustees’ decision to close a school (or two) even harder to swallow than in neighboring districts.

One thing is certain, our schools - no matter the number of impassioned and involved parents - are an endangered species. And I’m not just talking about those slated for closure.

Public education dollars continue to dwindle and little relief is in sight even if Race To The Top provides an injection of funds. What are proponents of public education to do?

I don’t pretend to have the answer, but the important thing to remember is that my school district - and your school district - are not alone in this scenario. Perhaps we can work together on a solution.

The outreach efforts to help Haiti rise have been and continue to be nothing short of amazing and inspiring. As adults, we see the devastation and need for aide via our media outlet of choice (the local news, the Sacramento Bee, CNN or even our favorite blogs). Some of us glance at our monthly budget, write the check and make a monetary donation to the Red Cross, Unicef or Doctors Without Borders…

But as parents, we may not realize that our children instinctively want to help others and quickly develop a deep sense of empathy when they hear what other families and children went through and are experiencing right now in Haiti. However, it’s not as easy as whipping out the ol’ checkbook for them. And while we all may not have the luxury of excess funds to donate à la Meryl Streep, there are two hugely important actions that we can do with our own little ones in times like these:

1. When kids show concern, use it as a teachable moment. Talk about empathy, about our global community, discuss medical aide and basic needs, or environmental awareness. Teach your aspiring philanthropists how to proactively help (be a role model through action!), and that if you don’t have money to donate, you can still…
2. Give time or help raise money. Show your kids that if they care, they can; every little contribution adds up to a lot!

This week at Sacramento Parent, we received two separate, yet remarkably similar, e-mails from local moms who exemplify just that.

Ryanne Cruz, Roseville mom, sent us this inspiring story:

My 8-year-old daughter, Taylor, is in the 3rd grade. When I asked her if she knew about Haiti, she told me that she saw a commercial about the disaster, how sad she was for them and that she wanted to do something to help. So, we decided to put our love of baking to good use.

We baked 100 cupcakes and sold them for Haiti relief. My husband sold to his coworkers. Our favorite local store, Children’s Orchard, generously let us set up on their front counter for a day. We raised $99 to donate to the Red Cross. Taylor is SO proud of herself and I’m thrilled that she now knows she CAN make a difference.

I recently visited my daughter’s family (four children under the age of 8!) in Idaho. We were sitting around the dinner table one night, as the noise level began to rise (as it often does with a pack of wee ones). “I don’t LIKE spaghetti!” and “he’s looking at me!” took over.

Pretending we had a conversation box on the table, I pulled out an imaginary slip of paper and asked “What should we discuss?” The quick-thinking dad jumped in, “Have you kids heard about the earthquake in Haiti today?”

For the next half-hour, the kids eagerly listened and asked questions about the disaster that happened far from their comfortable, safe home. Five-year-old Taeya’s eyes welled up with tears: “We have to do something for the children!”

I suggested baking and selling cupcakes. The next day, the kids and I baked two dozen cupcakes and made a sign:

[”$1 cupcakes for the children of Haiti.”]

Donning coats, gloves and scarves, we braved the 10 degree winter afternoon, selling the cupcakes to neighbors. “We are selling cupcakes for the children in Haiti; would you like to buy one?” Taeya would shyly say after introducing herself. Her neighbors were gracious, kind and happy to help. In less than an hour we sold all the cupcakes and made $40.

We placed the cash in an envelope, which Taeya handed to her bishop on Sunday. She skipped off to class knowing that she had done something special for a stranger in need.

[Mesha and her grandchildren making cupcakes]

You can still make donations to charities involved in earthquake relief efforts. Text “HAITI” to 90999 to donate $10 to American Red Cross relief for Haiti, charged to your cell phone bill. Or, visit one of these organizations:

Clinton Bush Haiti Fund

CARE

Partners in Health

Network for Good

Charity Navigator

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