Just routine

"Create a daily schedule. . . . This will help [your child] understand and prioritize what he needs to accomplish each day" (Raising a Sensory Smart Child, p. 224).

I have read this and many variations on this theme in so many developmental books: a schedule will help you and your child. Especially for children who have transition challenges and motor planning problems, many experts tout that a schedule is very helpful.

Oh, how I have fought it.

It probably seems counter-intuitive that a person like me (read: likes to be in control and likes things orderly) would be so against making a "schedule" for Clara (i.e. me). Don't get me wrong--I've started ones before, but without success. I find that as soon as I feel reined in by a schedule, I feel I have to fight against it and scrap the whole thing entirely. I like to control my schedule and not feel controlled by it.

Does this make any sense?

ANYWAY, as time has passed, Michael and I have felt that having a predictable routine would be very helpful for us as well as for Clara. So we finally did it. We compromised with the "daily schedule" concept and made up a morning and a night routine. It's a happy compromise because what with preschool three days a week, physical therapy, occupational therapy, ballet, and adaptive aquatics, the rest of our day is scheduled enough as it is.

We also threw in a chore chart, a toileting routine reminder, and a "family rules" list for good measure.

Boy do we feel empowered.

Check out this sweet morning routine, ably illustrated by my husband. (Don't you think he missed his calling as an artist?)


Here's the night routine.


I posted them by Clara's bed (note the nice canister of chili powder Clara placed on her nightstand).

Can I just tell you what a sense of peace and consistency we're feeling? Clara expects it, and we have a visual reminder for ourselves because quite frankly, sometimes we forget all our good parenting intentions.

Don't you love these pictures?! The consequence for not doing "the steps" as we call them (Clara has SUCH a hard time doing these): Mr. Bear goes on the shelf because he doesn't like dirty hands. It's a pretty good motivator.


Our family rules, complete with consequences as appropriate.


"Clara bear's chore chart"--I got this idea from my sister-in-law Shannyn who did a way cooler chore chart.

Having a predictable morning and night routine makes us all happy.


Giddy, in fact.

Pretty darn good

Camping with some of our favorite people.

Helpful tent setter-upper.

Staying up late.

Three giddy girls tracking dirt into a tent and sleeping bags.


Finding sea shells by the side of a lake.


Sleeping in, a leisurely Sunday breakfast, two days of hearing the voice of a prophet and twelve apostles.


Yeah, this weekend was pretty great.

More Clara-fication

Enjoy a few recent tidbits:


(when she wants to change the song on a CD)
"Can you turn the page?"

After a lovely prayer this evening, I said, "Thank you, Sweetheart," to which she replied, "Not Sweetheart. Sweet PEA."

(as I cut open a sweet potato):

"That steam is against the [Word of] Wisdom."

(on a bright sunny day)
"Shoo sunshine!"

After I reprimanded her for doing something and she half-heartedly curled up in a ball, she informed us, "I was trying to cry."

(upon coming home from preschool)
"My brain is tired . . . and my nose is tired."

As we were praying the other night, I said, "I'm thankful for . . . " and was waiting for her to fill in the blank. She responded with ". . . nothing."

(as Michael tried to hug her after coming home from a hot run):
"Please stop. You're wet. Are you going to take a shower?"

(photo by April Mitchell)


Clara CONSTANTLY--as in, all day, every day, often first thing in the morning before "Hi" and last thing at night--wants me to pretend to be something or someone with me. I don't mind being doggies, or kitties, or bears, or even being a doctor and her being the patient. But I think it goes too far sometimes (and yes, these are all real-life examples. Too real.):


"Can you be Clara and I'll be Mr. Bear?"
"Can you be Count and I'll be Elmo?" (or any variation on Sesame Street characters)
"Can you be the restaurant owner and I'll be the come-iner?" (aka customer)
"Can you be Baker Mommy and I'll be Baker Clara?"
"Can you be Tasha and I'll be Uniqua?" (from Backyardigans)
"Can you be a pumpkin and I'll be a jack-o-lantern?" (huh?)
"Can you be Grandma and I'll be Little Red Riding Hood?"
"Can you be the Big Bad Wolf and I'll be Little Red Riding Hood?" (or more typically, Michael is the Big Bad Wolf)
"Can you be Buster and I'll be Arthur?"
"Can you be Boots and I'll be Dora?"
"Can you be a baby and I'll be a baby, too?"
"Can you be Sister Bear and I'll be Brother Bear?"
"Can you be Mary and I'll be baby Jesus?"
"Can you be Goliath and I'll be David?"
"Can you be the nursemaid and I'll be pharoah's daughter?" (she typically has Mr. Bear being Moses in a basket)
"Can you be Ruby and I'll be Max?"
"Can you be ______ (any of her friends at school) and I'll be Clara?"
"Can you be Wall-E and I'll be Eva?"
"Can you be Bernard and I'll be Annie Rose?" (from a book)
"Can you be Bear and I'll be Franklin?" (Franklin books)
"Can you be Heber Jensen and I'll be Fanny?" (Fanny's Dream book)
"Can you be the Fairy Godmother and I'll be Fanny?" (Fanny's Dream book)
"Can you be the wicked stepmother and I'll be Cinderella?"
"Can you be the clean-up manager?" (what I call myself when I'm directing her in her room clean-up efforts) . . . but then she'll say, "Can you talk in a clean-up manager's voice?" (not sure what that is, exactly)

She has even asked to be some other crazy things, like objects, other real people we know, etc., which put me at a complete loss.

By the way, have I mentioned Clara's incredible and somewhat freaky memory for names?


I think the reason she likes the pretending is because she likes predictability (a topic for another post entirely)--she likes to have the same thing happen over and over again. It's like watching a movie that you never get sick of. At least, she doesn't.

Book Review: Last Child in the Woods

(Side note: Hooray! My camera was fixed for a whopping $3.43 and now I'm back in business.)

I am always in the market for a good read, so I thought I'd begin occasionally posting book reviews of books I'd recommend.

I recently finished Richard Louv's Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder.


I remember as a child playing in the drained pond behind our neighborhood and bringing cattails home. I recall walking to the waterfalls in the woods with my brother(s?) and neighborhood friends, getting lost, and hitching a ride with a stranger to get back home (yikes). I don't recall my mom knowing where I was all the time, which I think was the case for many of us as children.

Would you let your child do that today? Not me.

This non-fiction book was a fascinating look into how we as a society and as individuals no longer let our children "go play" outside. We have playgrounds and blacktops (which lend themselves to place those children with physical giftedness at the top of the totem pole) instead of natural green places which encourage more creative and longitudinal play--a creek, a pond, trees to climb, hills to run on, etc.


One of the ironies Louv discusses is how our children (and adults) today are taught to "protect the environment" instead of experiencing the environment. Kids today know more about the rainforests of South America and the savannas of Africa than they do about the flora and fauna of their own backyards.


He also addresses obstacles to our preventing our children from playing outside:

1. Time: This is a biggie. Since many of us (myself included) feel uncomfortable sending our children outside to play alone, we have to be willing to take the time to be outside with them, and not only at a park (which is better than nothing), but somewhere where they can explore and imagine and pretend.

(Michael and Clara doing the bicycle after a delicious riverside picnic this week.)

2. Fear of strangers: We do need to be careful, but the chances of stranger abduction are very low (he sites stats, etc.). We shouldn't prevent our children from going outside because of this fear, but I think the trickiest thing is to find a balance between giving them independence to explore and yet being close by as well.

3. Fear of animals, insects, sunburn, etc.: The dangers of the outdoors are real, but so are the dangers of the indoors. West Nile mosquitoes can come inside your house, brown recluse spiders prefer your house, and our houses can have many/more allergens than outside. A solution I thought of would be to teach our children (and learn ourselves) about dangerous bugs, snakes, etc. so the whole family will feel empowered and safe.

Richard Louv argues that outside playtime should be as essential to our children's well-being as their piano lessons and sporting activities. Ironically, the rise in childhood obesity has increased at the same time as a rise in organized sports participation. How could this be? He speculates its cause is because our children go from the computer to soccer practice and home again to sit and do homework or watch an episode on tv. The naturally high activity levels that kids used to have no longer seem to exist.


If you don't think that this book has a case, check out this advertisement I received in the mail for the Imagine It! Children's Museum in Atlanta:

Come and play in the shade this summer at the Exploring Trees Inside and Out exhibit at Imagine It! The Children's Museum of Atlanta. Experience the sights, sounds and scenes, and even climb inside a giant tree at this fascinating exhibit, open now through September 13, 2009.


Hmmm . . . how about just taking your kids to the woods? What a novel concept.

Camera withdrawals

You might have noticed my recent paucity of posts.

The reason is that my camera is currently broken, and I confess that I am a visual learner and like pictures to accompany my text.

However, another issue reared its ugly head with my camera (which will be repaired at no cost to me due to a sensor malfunction--woohoo!) not working: I have a secret feeling that if I can't take a picture of the event, it didn't happen. I think to myself, "How will I remember this experience? Why should we do it if no one--us, posterity, blog viewers--will see it?" (That last question is partly tongue-in-cheek but perhaps more true than I'd like to admit.)

So today when we drove 3+ hours to Tybee Island and then to Savannah and then returned home again by 7:30pm, I was very put-out that we didn't have our camera to record the experience.

Fortunately, our wonderful time today also made me realize a few blessings of being camera-less:

1. I didn't worry nearly as much about my personal appearance.
2. I didn't worry about whether our camera would be stolen when we were out in the ocean.
3. Not every experience has to be recorded for posterity. They can be recorded mentally and then enjoyed further through verbal rehearsal, e.g. "Remember when we were at the beach and you were so brave in the ocean and loved playing in the sand?".
4. Life is for living, not just for being looked at.


I do still think photos, video, and other forms of memory preservation are very important--they were a big part of my upbringing, what can I say?--but I am learning that the experience is much more important than the "having done it" bragging rights.


I'm ashamed that it's taking me so long to learn this simple lesson, but even though the truth hurts, it feels better to share it.

A sound-off

I find Clara's sensory issues absolutely fascinating. If you don't, feel free to close the window.

I recently spoke with Clara's occupational therapist, Claudia, about how it seems that some senses--especially her auditory sense--have become more pronounced recently. Claudia felt that it was really a good thing because it's showing that she is more aware of them and can therefore cope with them more easily.

For example, Clara holds her hands over her ears frequently, which she never did as of a month or so ago. She has done/does this upon hearing the following:

thunder
sausage sizzling in the pan
loud laughter
airplanes, etc.
cereal crunching in her mouth
loud music
vacuum
the "thunder" and "rain" in the produce department

I think sometimes she does it as an experiment (like with the cereal), and other times it is a defense mechanism. It is most upsetting/shocking when it's a sudden, unexpected noise, as noises often are. She sometimes asks us to stop laughing and says, "Don't do that." Thunder is now a dreaded occurrence and she often asks before bed, "The thunder won't come on, right?"

I remember as a baby, she would startle so easily--you'd sneeze and she'd jump a mile. Of course, I didn't think much of it then, although I thought it was interesting. I had previously thought that perhaps this auditory sense issue was getting worse recently, but I think her OT is right--she is just growing more aware of sounds and is learning to identify them, even though some are upsetting to her. She is often immediately distracted when she hears anything (things that I tune out), like a motorcycle going by, or the wind on the windows, or anything like that.

One fascinating aspect of all of this is her absolute love of music. She wants to listen to it all the time--in the car, at home, etc. I taught her how to turn on the CD player at home and she'll just turn it on and sit on the couch, reading books and listening. She likes classical, country (she loves an old Dixie Chicks CD), some big band stuff, pop, Broadway (she'll ask, "Can I listen to the Broadway CD?"), and of course her kid music.

(Clara made a little nest to snuggle in while listening to her music.)

I love it that she loves music, and especially that she is learning to sing on pitch. Of course I loved her singing before that, but I confess as a music lover myself I am a bit relieved . . .

Clara will finally be getting a speech evaluation in November--I made the appointment a couple of months ago and that was the earliest opening (!)--and I am curious to see/ask for an audiology exam. I'll be interested to find out what more, if anything, I can do to help her cope. The therapist we'll be going to does music therapy as well. We'll see what happens, and in the meantime, we'll stick around and enjoy the ride.

For Clara's sake, preferably a quiet, peaceful ride.

Thanks . . .

. . . for asking me out on that first date nearly eight years ago. I never knew bell bottoms, a paisley vest, and a rock-awesome wig would be the beginning of a wonderful life.

Happy 7th anniversary, Sweetheart.

Abingdon, Virginia

Two days after we returned from Atlanta, we drove five hours up to southwest Virginia to meet with an orthodontist there.

This is the view from his house. Not too shabby.

Later that day we went to the Virginia Highlands festival hot air balloon launch. Clara LOVES hot air balloons (as in, asking us when we're on errands in the car if we can see any hot air balloons--daily, it seems). They were giving out Energizer bunny ears, and Clara loved hers and didn't want to take them off.

There were eleven balloons. Here they are getting ready. Can I just tell you how nice the weather was?! I only got bitten by one mosquito during the couple of hours we were outside. And I don't think I got sweaty once.

Here are a few balloons almost ready for lift-off. It was fun to watch the people work to get them going: first they rolled the balloons out on the grass, then they used huge fans to blow them up most of the way, and then they used the flame (propane?) to lift the balloon up into the air. So fascinating.

One flew right over our heads.

Clara and I flew in a tethered hot air balloon. For years I have had a lifelong goal of going in a hot air balloon. Even though this was tethered, I think I've satisfied that desire with this experience. Clara was excited, but I was nervous for her because I was afraid of what was coming.

Lifting off!

Three ropes were connected to three different automobiles so we didn't fly away. Clara wasn't too thrilled during the experience and started crying loudly. I wasn't surprised--quite frankly I was impressed that she wanted to get on in the first place. For one thing, it's kind of scary up there (only about 30-40 feet off the ground, but it felt much higher!). For another, there was a super hot flame being blown right above our heads that felt like it was going to burn our hair off. And last of all, the flame was SUPER loud, right in our ears. But I was proud of her for being so brave!

The reason for the Energizer bunny ears Clara was wearing earlier. Can you imagine being the seamstress for this hot air balloon? ("You want me to sew what?!")

Check out this sweet miniature hot air balloon.

A fabulous dixie jazz band played some great music, and a good time was had by all.

Back to ATL

While Michael attended conferences in Minneapolis and then in Atlanta, I enjoyed several days with my family in Atlanta. My parents were taking care of my two nieces, Anna and Charlotte, and Clara and I got to spend a lot of time with them, the cuties.

Charlotte is adorable even with bedhead. At church people thought she was mine. I wish!

Anna and Clara determined which dress-up outfits would fit their personalities.

Clara decided on the gangsta/Newsies paperboy look.

Anna went for the flapper/soldier/nerd/hippie look. Oh, and you can't see it, but there's a flower tiara under there as well.


While I was there, I got to spend a couple of hours with two of my fabulous sisters-in-law, Shannyn and Tabitha.

Clark, Shannyn's little boy, was such a cutie. I had fun interacting with him, especially since we haven't spend much time with him.

Adam, Tabitha's son, amazed me with his bravery on the playground. No fear.

Clark was loving the swing.

Clara, Clark, and Anna swinging. Hooray for hot playgrounds on summer days. Don't you think they should manufacture fake shade trees as part of playground setups so these poor kids aren't dripping sweat and getting sunburned out there?

Sweet prayers

Clara often has a hard time saying her prayers and refuses to say the blessing at any meal--I think it's partly having difficulty thinking of things to say and partly her sense of, shall we say, spirited independence. Her bedtime prayer seems to be a less resistant time, but even then it's been a challenge. However, a recent occasion brought the following conversation:

(as we kneel by her bed)

ME: Clara, are you ready to say the prayer?

CLARA: No.

ME: Oh, it makes Heavenly Father so happy when you talk to him--he misses you.

CLARA: Can I sing it?

ME: Um, sure.

CLARA: (singing)
Heavenly Father, are you really there?
And do you hear and answer every child's prayer?
Some say that heaven is far away,
But I feel it close around me as I pray.

(she forgot the words to the next part but then continued on with a little help)

Pray, he is there.
Speak, he is listening.
You are his child
His love now surrounds you.

(A Child's Prayer, Children's Songbook, p. 12)


It was a tender moment for me. Since then, we discovered that if we "sing-talk" words (sing the words of the prayer on some sort of pitch), she will often repeat them in a similarly "sing-talk" sort of way as we pray together. It also seems to help her think of ideas of what to pray for. She has sung, "And please help the thunder to not come on," as she is terrified of thunder.

Tonight when it came time for prayers, she asked again, "Can I sing, Mama?"


Oh yes, Sweetpea. Please do.

Too many recipes

(Warning: random rant to follow)

Lately I have come to the realization that while I like having choices, I don't like having too many choices. I like to pick between, say, seven different types of shampoo . . . not forty-five. I like the idea of a huge variety, but when faced with reality, I find myself spending far too long staring at the back of a billion pasta sauce cans to determine which is the healthiest and cheapest.

Google Image

(Cereal might be the only exception to the rule, although I doubt I'll ever be able to try them all in my lifetime. I love you, cereal.)


This issue acutely rears its massive head when it comes to recipes. Oh, I know I'm not alone. You think to yourself, "Hmmm. I'm bored of the 'same old thing' for dinner. I'll look on allrecipes, bettycrocker, kraftfoods, southernliving, betterhomesandgardens, cookinglight, epicurious, rachaelray, marthastewart, americastestkitchen (you name it) and see what looks good and what I have the ingredients for."

The thing is, WE ALREADY HAVE THOUSANDS OF RECIPES AT HOME, PEOPLE! At least I do, and I don't even have that many recipe books. I know that some women collect cookbooks like they collect handbags--one for every possible occasion and then some.

I have to admit--there is something seductive about flipping through the pages of a beautifully-photographed cookbook. I also shamelessly confess that no more than two months ago I plopped right down on the floor in Borders, longingly reading, admiring, and coveting cookbooks.
(Oh man. Williams Sonoma and their cookbooks. That company exists only to tantalize me.)

Moving on.

What is it, exactly, that makes us think that there is "something better out there?" Is it the number of finger muscles required to manipulate a mouse versus flipping a page? Is it the thirst for more choices? More variety? I mean, who, honestly, has actually made even HALF of the recipes in just one of the cookbooks they own? I gots a whole lotta recipes I ain't even tried yet. And I've been married for nearly seven years.


So, I've decided to organize my recipes. It's still in the works, but I can't tell you how thrilled I am. I have so many recipes I have yet to try. Who's to say that some homebody on Allrecipes has a better recipe than one from one of my beloved cookbooks?

I thought I'd introduce you to a few of my favorites.

Ah yes, the Mormon Family Cookbook, published in 1982. I think my mom was going to throw it out, but I mean, that would just have been WRONG.

You might be wondering what that rather fascinating-looking dish is in the upper righthand corner. It's called the Green and Gold Vegetable Ring and is made of carrots and peas, along with eggs, milk, and some other deliciousness.

What? That doesn't look too appetizing? Well, look no farther than this next selection.

Oh, don't tell me you're not dying to make a Ribbon Jell-O cake. I mean, come ON!

Actually, in all seriousness, I love the Irish Soda Bread recipe in here. And I've tried a few others that I've really liked. It's a keeper, if nothing else than for nostalgia's sake.

So if you ever need to make Bishop's Bread, Chicken Liver Pate, Salmon Loaf (those two words just should never be paired), or Pickled Beets, I'd be happy to get you the recipe.

Next, I'd like to introduce you to the cookbook of my youth. I STILL use this rock-awesome cookbook occasionally, although I unfortunately failed to give you a sneak peek. The delicious Pizza Porkchops recipe looks fancy schmancy but is easy peasy.

If any of you have ever seen this cookbook, or even, should you be privileged enough to actually own a copy, you are lucky indeed. I'm thinking I could get millions on the American Girl black market.

What do you mean there is no American Girl black market?

I adored this cookbook and still do. Too bad I have only made two or three things from it. But it's what Samantha, Kirsten, and Molly ATE! Yes, I realize I'm showing my age since I loved American Girls when there were only three dolls instead of forty. See, there are just too many choices.

Doesn't Molly just make you want to jump right in and start cooking? It did for me as a ten-year-old.


Sorry, I'm not going to show you my old Betty Crocker standby or the totally fabulous Better Homes and Gardens Baking cookbook my parents got me when I turned 16 (along with a Williams Sonoma apron that I still wear all the time), 'cuz, let's face it, those are so blase compared to these ones.

Anyway, I've decided that I'm going to organize my innumerable recipes and start--gasp!--using the ones I already have. Then I can write notes in my cookbooks or on my printouts like "Yikes!" or "Fairly decent" or "Heaven on a plate" on them so I'll remember what I thought. Or, get this, I can chuck the putrid recipes so I'm left with a magnificent collection of recipes that my baking ancestry would be proud of.


Dunford Bakery, here I come.