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March 2010
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May 2010

The Child

The child
is made of one hundred.
The child has
a hundred languages
a hundred hands
a hundred thoughts
a hundred ways of thinking
of playing, of speaking.
A hundred always a hundred
ways of listening
of marveling of loving
a hundred joys
for singing and understanding
a hundred worlds
to discover
a hundred worlds to invent
a hundred worlds
to dream.
The child has
a hundred languages
(and a hundred hundred hundred more)
but they steal ninety-nine.
The school and the culture
separate the head from the body.
They tell the child:
to think without hands
to do without head
to listen and not to speak
to understand without joy
to love and to marvel
only at Easter and at Christmas.
They tell the child:
to discover the world already there
and of the hundred
they steal ninety-nine.
They tell the child:
that work and play
reality and fantasy
science and imagination
sky and earth
reason and dream
are things
that do not belong together.

And they tell the child
that the hundred is not there.
The child says:
No way. The hundred is there.

~Loris Malaguzzi
(translated by Lella Gandini)


Am I doing it right?

This is a question I ask myself on a regular basis.  Am I doing this right?  Will my children grow up to be amazing, intelligent, productive, creative, responsible, honest, loving people?  Am I feeding them the correct balance of all necessary nutrients?  Vegetables.  Fruits.  Grains.  Organic.  Locally Grown.  Do they read enough?  Enough of the right stuff?  Do they watch too much TV?  (Probably)  Are they getting stimulated enough at school?  Are they liked?  Do they have good friends?  (Yes). 

I want to fit so much into this tiny little slot of time I'm allotted in their lives.  At the same time, we've all heard tell of the over scheduled child.  The detrimental effects of shuttling your child from one activity to the next.  Then again,  how do you know they'll love something if you don't let them try it?  My oldest was in basketball for the second year this year.  She's in gymnastics for the third year, which she loves.  This is the first year she's old enough to play softball.  We signed her up.  She has piano lessons.  Loves those too.  She's in the process of choosing a band instrument at school.  There's the Girl Scout camping trip coming up next month.  Swimming lessons start in June.  Then there's church camp and horseback riding camp.  She just finished running club and ran a 2k with her Dad.  It all seems a little insane to me.  I'm hoping after a few years of insanity,  we'll settle down into a few beloved hobbies after weeding out the least favorites.  It's like someone put me on a roller coaster I didn't even know I'd bought a ticket for. 

Am I doing this right?  Is there a right way?

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I've got another little person coming up the pike and I'm already wondering. . . what will be her passion?  Violin?  Cello?  Iceskating?  Soccer?  Ballet?  At least by that time, my oldest will be old enough to drive her there.


Experimenting with Photo Editing

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Wow. . . this is so much fun!  I really have no idea what I'm doing, but so far things are looking pretty cute.  I think there's a whole book out there just on Adobe Elements Photo Editing.  I may have to look into that.  In the mean time. . .

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Have you seen a sweeter looking belly?  I didn't think so.  


Pippa's Baby

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It's official.  She's one year old.  I thought long and hard about a special present to commemorate my last baby's first year and chose a sweet handmade doll that my middle daughter fell in love with when she was little.  I found the same doll on line and wrapped it all up with hopes that she would fall in love with it.  Well, I can say that usually these plans of mine don't typically turn out as I'd hoped.  All moms out there will relate when I say it's usually some 25 cent garage sale stuffed animal that becomes their favorite lovey and all your well thought out plans were for naught.   This time, though, I think Mommy got a win.

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She loves her baby!

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And her baby's new bed.

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In our house, Mommy sleeps with her baby!

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 A good morning hug.

Oh, my sweet Pippa.  I love you so.