Princess For a Day

It was obviously the In Place for all princesses. Katie Holmes knew it and was there. So my forever-friend Ina and I, who had dressed up like princesses and danced in her basement long ago, took our grown-up daughters and pretended they were six again, like Suri.

The Sleeping Beauty is a timeless story and Tchaikovsky’s gorgeous music has made it into one of the world’s most beloved ballets, and the New York City Ballet created a magical world of dance and fairy tale. Every one of the thousands of little and big girls in the audience felt like they were dancing too, dreaming of a prince and falling into a hundred-year sleep right along with the beautiful Princess Aurora. The whole place, main floor and all five tiers of balconies, helped the dancers by humming along to the famous waltz---even those who didn’t know that they knew the melody hummed along.

This is Sophia, who dressed for the occasion and was the object of much admiration from young to old. She watched the two hours of dancing and music mesmerized, and she will never forget the experience.

Why spend hard-earned money on something like a ballet, even in the fifth tier balcony? Because, as Sophia’s mother knew, an experience like that becomes part of who we are. The more music, dance, art, and theater we expose our children to, the more they will integrate that world of high-quality imagination and creativity.  I remember clearly the first chamber music concert my parents took me to, dressed up and fidgeting until the flutist appeared.  Pure magic came out of a little silver tube! I begged for lessons and even long after I stopped playing I kept the instrument just because I loved it.

There is a Cycle of Appreciation: if you have some musical experience you can appreciate performances more, and when you see live performances you are inspired more to enjoy or even create it yourself. I think the same thing must happen with sports---by going to high-school basketball games with my son, my four year old granddaughter has an impressive understanding of the game. I firmly believe that she will be the first ballerina princess (tutu and all) to play center on her high school team.


Jane

www.ladylullaby.com

Hunting for Mother Goose

Old Mother Goose when she wanted to wander

Would ride through the air on a very fine gander.

Jack’s mother came in and caught the goose soon,

And mounting its back flew up to the moon.

Mother Goose was hatched in France in the early 17^th century, with the first book with that name appearing in 1695.  At that point it was more like fairy tales than poems, but soon a book of nursery rhymes called Mother Goose’s Melody was published in England. Ever since then Mother Goose has been associated with children’s literature.

But where has Mother Goose flown to? A study conducted by Bridgewater State College in Massachusetts found that kindergartners barely recognize the classic collection of rhymes. It’s just not being used in schools or home the way it was in past years.

Why do these old-fashioned poems matter, anyway?  According to Gari Stein, author of “The More We Get Together: Nurturing Relationships Through Music, Play, Books, and Art, ”and the Bridgewater researcher Mary E. Shorey, it does matter. For centuries now Mother Goose has been a first introduction to literature, poetry, rhyme, vocabulary, humor, and nonsense---and a literary heritage that Shorey says “links generations together.” She also found that “one of the best indicators of how well children will learn to read is their ability to recite nursery rhymes when they walk in the kindergarten!”

So what are kids learning at home instead of Mother Goose? You guessed it: songs from the big children’s TV shows. Now, I like Dora and Diego as much as anyone---I’m learning Spanish from them, and enjoy all sorts of new adventures.  The songs may be catchy--but will they survive four hundred years from now, as Humpty Dumpty has done despite his problem with balance?

So dig up your Mother Goose book from your childhood, get a copy from the library, look online for the individual poems, and enjoy sharing it with your own children. There is long-standing proof that they’ll love it.

Sweet Dreams,
Jane

p.s. If we need to accept technology, though, the Mother Goose Club does a great job of making these poems fun enough to compete with Dora:  Here’s a new version of Little Miss Muffet:   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0PWt9An1Ro

The Lullaby Angel

It was the first time in years I’d actually made it to bed before 10 p.m.  It’s always a goal, but somehow it doesn’t happen. Now, however, there was strong motivation: my toddler grandson who sometimes sleeps all night and sometimes doesn’t. You don’t fool around at these times—it’s a matter of survival.

Sure enough, after a few hours of sleep, I heard the battle cry: “Bubbie, Bubbie!”  While it was, thrillingly, recognition of the bond that we had formed---he remembered to call for me instead of his out-of-town parents---I resolved to not give in. It took eight minutes for this resolve to crumble. I went in and picked him up.

We sat in the big chair in his room and I rocked and hummed a lullaby. He settled down and I slowly moved to put him back in the crib. No way. Another lullaby, more settling, another move, more refusal. After a few rounds of this I lovingly but firmly put him back in his crib to scream it out. I admitted defeat, and questioning my right to the title of Lady Lullaby, I slunk out of the room.

Just then a 23-year-old angel appeared. Her name was Veronica, and we’d signed her on just in case this happened for four nights in a row. Young parents do this many nights in a row---I did too, once upon a time---but now this grandmother becomes a useless zombie after not sleeping for a couple nights. To save us all from that fate, the angel offered to take over.

I heard soft singing and the screams gradually turned to whimpers. As I started to relax and fully appreciate being horizontal, the singing continued and the whimpering grew quieter. Songs flowed on and on, one after another, until finally there was real quiet.

In the morning I hugged the angel and asked what she was singing all that time. She didn’t remember any lullabies, she said, so she just went through all the songs she knew: from high school and college musicals she’d been part of; the hit songs of her teen-age years; church hymns and fight songs; and finally all the music from “Les Mis,” sung lullaby style.

The words didn’t matter and the tunes didn’t matter---it was the sweetness, the joy of singing, the loving feelings, and the youthful endurance that came through. This is what the lullaby instinct is all about---this is the heart of lulling a baby to sleep.

And tonight, back in my own bed, I wish his parents---and all parents---patience, endurance, and a memory full of songs of all kinds.

Sweet dreams to young and old,

Jane

Siblings: Remember It’s a Win-Win

 "I don’t understand how people learn to live in the world if they haven’t had siblings. . . . Everything I learned about negotiation, territoriality, coexistence, dislike, inbred differences and love came from (them).” Anna Quindlan (Siblings)

It’s a whole different thing than my last visit a couple months ago, I realize, as I watch my grandchildren jog the loop around from living room through hallway over and over. The almost-two-year-old boy can now run, and that makes all the difference. The four-year-old girl is like his puppet master---she slows down, he slows down; she goes faster, he tries to keep up and hardly notices when he falls down in the attempt.

She catches him and tumbles him to the ground and he laughs with delight—until it’s suddenly too rough and the laugh turns to tears. Game over. As the substitute referee, it’s a tough call, figuring out if each tackle is within the bounds of the game or not. Pro football doesn’t have to take into account the psychology of sibling relationship issues.

(Flashback: I clearly see my son--the present-day dad--as a four year old, casually sticking out his foot to trip his toddler sister as she devotedly followed his every move. She had no idea what happened, and just picked herself up and kept on following--it was worth it just to be with him.)

Dr. James M. Herzog suggests that enhanced learning from an older sibling can begin as early as 15 to 18 months, which is the time the younger child’s motor skills allow him to imitate the physical accomplishments of an older sibling.

I notice especially the musical tutoring that’s going on daily. The older one says something in a certain tone and pitch, and he imitates it exactly (without real words, which makes it truly comical). She comes home from pre-school with a new song and he sings along, not knowing the song at all, and imitates her hand motions, just for the sheer joy of doing what she’s doing.

As the little one’s skills are growing day by day, his big sister is his best teacher. After all, she is a magical creature to him---someone much closer to his size than grown-ups but still worlds ahead in knowing how the world works. At the same time her confidence in her knowledge grows with his adoration, and all in all, it’s a win-win for them both.

And for this subjective/objective observer it’s a win-win too. I hope you too can stop once in a while, in the midst of all the little and big sibling rivalry issues, take the long view, and recognize it as a win-win too!

“You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them.” - Desmond Tutu

Sweet Dreams,

Jane

Monsters and Other Friends

Lullabies are usually sweet and lovely things, aimed at soothing and calming a baby in the hopes that everyone involved gets a good night sleep. For slightly older children bedtime also should be soothing and calming, but the fact is that toddlers have more ways to express themselves and that can complicate bedtime. Babies cry. Toddlers whine. Babies drift off. Toddlers negotiate. Babies cuddle. Toddlers go down with a fight—after all, there’s that monster under the bed.

Last week I shared one poet’s interpretation of what babies think. Here’s another artist whose songs about slightly older children express the thought process of that stage of life. Julie Maccarin is a psychologist and family counselor in Asheville, North Carolina who channels toddler’s thoughts and turns them into very funny songs.

“There’s a scary monster under my bed

His hair is blue and his eyes are red

He has two bumps in the middle of his head

And he’s keeping me awake at night!”

Kids like songs like this because, Dr. Maccarin says, “it describes a common childhood fear in a playful and non-threatening way. This helps reduce their anxiety and gives them a sense of mastery over their fears.”

She also has a song about imaginary friends, a topic I understand well. My daughter’s “friends” Herman and Inchka stuck around our house for a very long time---they didn't eat much and cleaned up after themselves, so it was fine with me.

“Many children have an imaginary friend,” says Dr. Maccarin, “though whom they can vicariously express their wishes, fears, needs, frustrations, and other feelings.” The song below is about an imaginary friend who is “smart and wonderful, but also sometimes naughty, not unlike a real little girl or boy!” Take a a look at Dr. Maccarin's website at http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/juliemaccarin to learn more or order her CD. 

So as you tuck your baby or toddler into bed tonight, check under the bed and know that, whatever you and your child find, all is well.

Sweet Dreams,
Jane

To What Miserable Wretches Have I Been Born?

We all talk about what babies need and like, as if we know what they’re thinking and feeling. How in the world do we know what they’re thinking?

There are different ways of gaining knowledge about parenting. We get advice from friends and relatives who've done it. We read books by experts who have talked to lots of others who've done it and condensed that information for us. And maybe the most important way of knowing what our baby wants-- intuition, and  trial and error.

When it comes to lullabies all these things come into play: we learned songs  when we were little that seem natural to sing to our babies, and we sing the standards like “Twinkle Twinkle.” We buy music by “experts”---singers of children’s music and, in my case, music that’s also for parents who are trying to put their babies to sleep.

And intuition comes in when we instinctively pick up a crying baby and start  crooning some comforting sounds. The trial and error comes in if she settles down right away, or if we change out technique to bouncing or pacing or swearing—depending on the time of night and our fatigue level.

But the fact is that we don’t really know what babies are thinking.

However, there is one woman who claims to know, and she is happy to enlighten us. Comedienne Suzanne Weber has written a very funny book of poetry from the baby’s point of view. Her babies let us know, in no uncertain terms, what they’re thinking about a variety of important subjects.

Here is one such discussion about the practice of swaddling, which the current experts feel makes a baby feel secure and safe. When my children were babies we did not swaddle. It seemed cruel and constricting -and having grown up in the sixties we did not believe in constricting anything at any time. Now it’s back in fashion, and this grandmother has struggled to learn the artful technique of wrapping and twirling and generally taking a baby prisoner. I have to say I felt vindicated when I read this poem:

Where Are My Hands??!!??

I had hands.

I know I did.
I was born with them.

They were there this morning.
What have you done with them?!!??
For that matter, where are my arms?
Last thing I remember,

you lay me on a blanket
and just kept
wrapping
and twisting
and tucking
and tightening
and then
I had no hands.
Or arms.
Come to think of it, can’t really see my legs or feet either.
And what exactly do you expect me to do in this position?
It’s not really conducive to anything except lying here.
What if I just fall asleep like this?
You’d like that, wouldn't you?
Have this little limbless body fall asleep
so you wouldn't have to think
about my needs and attending to them.
You might as well have gotten yourself a houseplant.
Or a throw pillow.
Or a pet rock.
Whatever. Fine.
I’ll sleep.
But only because
trying to do anything else
is
pointless.

---Suzanne Weber
www.iamsuzanneweber.com | www.twitter.com/TheBitterBaby  

And despite their impatience with our general incompetence, they still love us and know that we love them. Swaddled or not, I wish you both a good night and sweet dreams.