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Showing posts from October, 2016

To a generous young trick-or-treater for his kindness

Our neighborhood is unbelievable on Halloween night. Starting about 6 p.m., our street is packed with trick-or-treaters. If you don't start stockpiling candy early, you could go broke trying to keep up with the crowd.

The Kid doesn't really like the trick-or-treating part, she loves to hand out the candy. She ventured out twice, once with me and once with Grandma, but returned because she loved being the helper kid who was making everyone enjoy their holiday.

One young man hesitated at our door after she stuffed a few treats into his bag. If I had to guess, he was about 10 or 11 years old himself. He started fumbling in his bag, pulled out a treat and said, "This is for her since she hasn't been out trick-or-treating for herself."

I think he was a little embarrassed by our effusive praise of his generosity. He didn't have to do that for our little Wonder Woman. She was having a great time and has a boatload of candy from her two tours of our block. But he wa…

Grandparenting a stuffy can be hard, rewarding work

I am not exactly sure where we got Hip the Hippo. I think The Kid found him on one of the community walks they take during the day at her pre-school. There isn't much remarkable about him, except the letters HIP on his back, which make it easy to remember the name of a stuffy we only see once a quarter or so.

Today, she decided that Hip wasn't feeling well and needed to spend the day with Papa. I was given her trusty Doc McStuffin's thermometer and firm instructions on how to tell if Hip was running a fever.

Whatever Hip's illness, he felt much better after we got on the road. We had a great time together, going to a press conference, eating lunch with Uncle David, writing and editing blog posts, checking out a gas meter, and drinking coffee. He felt well enough to try sneaking a slice of Buddy's Pizza on our way home from work.

I like the days The Kid decides I need to take a stuffy with me. It gives me a fun focus in what can be a monotonous work day.



If you see my kid walking around with a tire pressure gauge, you'll know why

I've had a slow air leak in the right front tire of my car for a few weeks now. I initially brushed off the loss of tire pressure as typical for colder weather, but the weather hasn't been much colder and I found a nail in the tire today. 
While I know I need to get it fixed, I will miss the chance to watch The Kid being a helper with my car. I showed her how to check the tire pressure and use the portable air compressor a few weeks ago. Today, she grabbed the gauge out of my hand and got right to work before I could unpack the compressor. 
She relishes every opportunity she gets to help, the other night it was putting the clothes from the washer into the dryer. She enjoys making pizzas for the family and stirring pancake batter. She likes to help carry groceries in from the car. She's trying to learn how to walk our dog Barney. She really is my number one farm hand.
Watching her use the tire pressure gauge, I started reminiscing about my grandfather. He was always findin…

Our family became whole because another family fell apart

A co-worker shared a powerful story from Huffington Post with me today. It was one adoptive mother's account of the days from meeting their birth mother to walking away from the hospital with their soon-to-be-adopted daughter in tow. I almost cried reading it because I can relate to the story in many ways, especially the feelings of uncertainty that are ever present until you see the amended birth certificate in the mail. 
"Bearing witness to her sorrow, I realize BabyMama is also experiencing three days of labor. As we text and grieve, we experience the contractions of the heart and body and mind together." -Kathleen Dennehy 
Our situation was different. The family in the story had to wait for three days in the hospital while the birth mother had to make the impossible decision to surrender her child for adoption. The Kid's foster mom had taken her home from the hospital and cared for her until her birth parent's legal rights to custody were terminated. We met h…

Difficult to discipline myself

An advocate of mine likes to remind me that my daughter is one of my greatest teachers. It sounded hokey the first few times she said it. Now, I agree completely.

I have ruminated on this lately because I just finished reading the book Easy to Love, Difficult to Discipline on the advice of the staff at The Kid's preschool. As a family, Grandma included, we're reading it so we are all approaching discipline for The Kid from the same place.

While I will not be giving a full book report, there are a few things that make the approach advocated in the book difficult for me to follow because it is not a part of my nature. For example, I am learning to tell The Kid when I notice her doing something we want to reinforce and to "notice" without judgement. Instead of saying, "good job clearing your plate," I have been saying things like, "I see you doing your part to help our family by clearing your plate."

The reasoning behind the exercise is sound, so it…