Out of the Mouths of Babes

Every Saturday I load up the car with three of my girls for ballet lessons. Today I was relaxed about this because I had located the tutus, shoes and leotards and tights yesterday. I'm slowly learning to preempt my stress.

The older child adores her class and is ready at 7 am for her 10:15 Ballet/Tap course. The younger sister earned her slot in the First Steps Ballet class at 10:30 by becoming potty trained. "Ballerinas don't wear diapers." I explained.

There are a lot of Moms in the waiting room with only one or two children. One mom asked me today, "You're an expert with having so many kids and all...how do you potty train?"

After I stopped laughing manically, (I think I spooked her), virtually every Mom was all ears as I admitted that numbers do not an expert make. Numbers just provide cover for most of my weaknesses. (My house is a mess. It was a mess when I had only one, but now I can blame it on sheer volume). I hate homework. Numbers now require that anyone over third grade be self sufficient for the most part. Organization is a decent skill. Neatness is not. I stress over being late but I'm not punctual.

Basically, I explained that while six children have come through potty training unscathed, their mother has not. Potty training involved the child becoming self willing of the act and thus far, none of my children had willingly submitted to the indignity of self imposed body control without a mighty struggle. Others might have better ideas I volunteered.

Several Moms offered suggestions but basically, all of us said, "Wait until Summer." (The Mom in question is expecting a baby any day now). The dancers interrupted the conversation as class was over.

My daughters came up to me and started sharing the candy they got from the teacher at the end of class. This week's treat was "Smarties," Those sweet and tart little candies that come in a roll stacked like pennies and look like vaguely tinted Tylenols.

As I took off my dauther's tutu and put on her cover ups, she began putting the candies in my mouth. "What are you doing?" I asked. (There were about six she was trying to shove in there).

"Making you smarter." She explained and then gave me a kiss.

"Better give me a whole roll." I quipped as I put on her shoes.

I then turned to her sister to get her ready. The youngest girl was testing out the class; she is considering potty training. This little one almost sucks her thumb. She holds it to her mouth but does not put it in. Likewise, she sits on the potty but that's it. After class, she needed her coat and shoes too.

The first toddler daughter returned and very solemly tapped my shoulder.
She had gone back to the teacher and returned with three "Smartie" rolls.

"Here." she said. "That should do it."

I popped a roll into my mouth and hoped that maybe, it would help me get through the next girl's potty training with minimum of psychological scarring.

That's Amore...of knowledge

For those of you who fell asleep during Philosophy class or opted out…a quick primer

Sung to the tune of “That’s Amore.”

“When Kant wanted to show that in experience you know
it’s aposterori…

When you know it innate, and there’s no physical state
it’s a priori.”

Berkley and friend Hume say all knowledge’s presumed
Being’s just your mind’s story. (It’s a story).

And Socrates and Plato
Said we just know we don’t know
As we sit on the cave floore.

When you debate what is Truth,
are killed for corrupting the Youth
You love knowledge. (You love Knowledge).

When you argue about Elliatics
and you feel dramatic
You’re in college. (You’re in college).

When you think this is all there is
and the sky is the limit
You’re called a realist. (a realist).

But for me can’t you see such a bleak world
It has no appealist.

Happy Saint Joseph’s Day!
May he and all people of Italian descent forgive me, including my children and husband.

I had writer’s block, this was the best I could do.

Signs and Portents

For the adolescent house cleaning impaired, the following is a helpful checklist designed and provided by the management to help in determining if in fact it is time to clean one's room.

10) Are there designated trails to allow for ease of passage through the room? Are they clearly marked and delineated to indicate level of difficulty/skill required by the hiker? If so...it's time.

9) When the dry erase board and calendar both read September and its March, it's time. Please note, it is not relevant whether the calendar says 2008 or 2007.

8) Displacement on too small a scale design errors: translation, five coffee cups, one tall glass and two plastic tumblers in the bathroom atop the sink to allow for rinsing and midnight drinks of water is perhaps too much for the demands of one teenager's dental hygiene or thirst. If you have to bus the sink, it's time.

7) Cascade effect. If you need a bigger and/or additional trash can, here's a hint. Try emptying it.

6) Papers --house or news, homework or letters, circa 2006. It's time. I promise, you won't be quizzed on your vocabulary from seventh grade, and if you are, you should know it by now.

5) Christmas/birthday cards/presents still wrapped/unopened. Boo. I'll be regifting...soon.

4) Relics/evidence of food. Best to leave no trace. CSI should not be able to determine you ate here. Neither should mom, and she's infinitely worse than those guys on TV.

3) 10$ in change. If I clean, there will be “carrying charges.”

2) Let’s think about this for a moment. Do you really want me going through your room?

1) Crunchy socks. They’re fabric, soft fabric. They shouldn’t BE able to make a sound by being folded akin to the snapping of branches.

Final Notice: Failure to adhere to this simple check list could result in the "accidental" releasing of toddlers into said teenager's room.