Recipe: Fake It 'Till You Make It S'mores

The Boy in question.

20 minutes.  That's how long the boy sat, screaming, in the middle of the sidewalk on a particularly windy side-street late this afternoon.  He was unaffected by the cold; unmoved by threats and friendly passersby alike.  It took another 15 minutes, a significant amount of dragging, sack-of-potato-carrying,  and some heavy (and seriously questionable) negotiations in order to travel the not-quite-three blocks home.  Maybe that doesn't sound very long.  It was VERY LONG.

(This event feels like the culmination of a week's worth of bad listening, poor attitude, mood swings and epic fussiness.  For the love of God I hope he doesn't top this.)

So after bath-dinner-bedtime which included some minor skirmishes and near-miss off-the-deep-ends (all executed solo as the husband is off on an unfortunately-timed business trip), I stumbled foggily out of his bedroom and commenced to stress-eat* my favorite MacGyver'd junk food: the Fake It 'Till You Make It S'more.

Here is what you need: Carrs whole wheat crackers, some chocolate. 

Here is what you do: put half a square of chocolate (we had Ghirardelli semi-sweet which has big squares) on a cracker.  Eat it in several bites.  Repeat. 

Try not to repeat too many times or the guilt will undo the soothing qualities of your semi-upscale, improvised, adult s'more-like treat.  If you happen to have a marshmallow around, sure, go for it.  But it really isn't necessary.  In any case, I do not recommend microwaving any part of this food.

That's it.  Now, with head cleared and sweet-tooth satisfied you can return to your productive evening.  Maybe with a glass of wine.  Or two. 

Off you go!

xo

*I know.  Stress eating is no good.  I don't endorse it.  I try not to do it.  But these things happen.  And then I turn lemons into lemonade and use my guilt to propel me to the gym.  So it all balances out . . . right?

Liz Lerman-ing Thanksgiving

Since I posted my plan here, I figured I ought to follow up and let you know how it actually turned out.  And I decided to follow Liz Lerman's Critical Response Process*.  I will be both the "artist" and the "audience" in the following conversation. Here goes:

Statement of meaning.  The audience say what they found meaningful, evocative, striking and exciting in the work.  This needs to be a positive statement.

• I really enjoyed using the plates, glasses and silver that belonged to my family and that we always used at our family holiday celebrations; it felt cozy to see and use those objects again.
• I liked the way our purple mashed potatoes drew attention and took up space visually on the plates; I liked how their inclusion honored my son who'd been enthusiastic about the choice to go purple.
• It was exciting to see such a more-elaborate-than-usual meal come together.
• It felt good to go running around outside after our long day inside and big meal.

Artist as questioner.  The artist asks questions about his or her work.  Ideally the questions are formulated in order to require an articulate response as opposed to a yes/no answer.

• How did it feel to put the trappings of Thanksgiving onto what was otherwise an ordinary family dinner in terms of people and place? (A: I was really crabby about it for the days preceeding and especially on Thanksgiving morning.  It wasn't clear to me how doing a lot more work for the same old family dinner was going to pay off in any meaningful way.  I'm still not completely satisfied with the final result, but I am glad we made the effort.  It felt good to create an event and a moment of pause for our son.)
• How effective did you find the Thankful Alphabet game where everyone took turns saying something they were thankful for that started with the next letter of the alphabet? (A: You know, I made that up on the spot.  I'd been looking for a way to create a conversation around thankfulness that would be accessible to our son - who is three and a half - and while he opted not to participate in saying what he was thankful for, he was very engaged in the conversation that developed between his dad and I and contributed to what we were saying.  I thought the alphabet was a good but maybe not perfect structure as many things and people for which we are deeply thankful were left out because they started with a popular letter of the alphabet and, likewise, some letters forced us to stretch for fluffier items on our thankful lists.)
• What other elements or traditions came to mind during this thanksgiving that weren't included? (A: I had this funny impulse that we should say some sort of non-religious prayer - a meditation or something - before we began our meal and I can't say if I wish we had or not.  There were also a number of menu items that I loved growing up but couldn't include in our celebration this year.)
• How did you feel watching the parade on TV with your family? (A: Growing up, I LOVED to watch the parade on TV while we were cooking and getting ready.  However, having it on with our son - who isn't really allowed to watch TV usually, which was already bringing some tension to the situation for me - didn't feel so good.  As an adult watching the parade, it's possible to enjoy the performances and displays while simultaneously understanding that the whole thing is one giant advertisement.  Watching with our not-yet-media-savvy son, I was suddenly rather uncomfortable and found myself saying snarkier/grinchier things that I would have liked in an effort to break the spell of marketing.  By contrast, the National Dog Show was a big hit and felt much more wholesome and age-appropriate.)

Neutral questions. The audience asks neutral questions to the artist about the work, the artist answers.  Questions are neutral when they do not have an opinion embedded in them.

How closely did the experience of Thanksgiving this year match your idea of what the day would be like?  (A: I was surprised in the morning by how upset - how emotional - I was to be doing Thanksgiving just ourselves.  I was feeling really lonely totally disconnected from my family-of-origin and kind of angry.  I was likewise surprised by how much I enjoyed the second half of the day - once the work was done and the stress of succeeding or failing was behind me - and how meaningful things like using the fancy dishes felt in the moment.)

Did you discover anything unexpected through the process of preparing and executing Thanksgiving? (A: Beyond the above, not really.  I went into Thanksgiving with a lot of resistance or, at least, unhappy resignation.  Also anxiety about having to figure it all out by myself.  I was gratified to succeed but it was a minor success.  Nothing about our meal was particularaly outstanding or memorable.  I'd say, in that regard, I got out of it what I put into it.  I took small risks and the rewards were proportional.)

Opinions.  The audience state opinions subject to permission from the artist: "I have an opinion about . . . . Would you like to hear it?  The artist has the option to say no.

• I have an opinion about the Turkey. Would you like to hear it?
• Yes.
• I think you could have cooked it longer.  It was done but I think only *just* and you probably would have felt more relaxed if you weren't secretly afraid you were about to give yourself and your son some kind of food poisoning

---

• I have an opinion about the Wine.  Would you like to hear it?
• Yes.
• I don't think the wine paired especially well with the meal.  It was fine, but it didn't do anything to add to a sense of occasion or "specialness." 
• I agree.

---

• I have an opinion about the structure of the day.  Would you like to hear it?
• Yes.
• It would have been nice to get outside before the meal, maybe even to watch some of the parade live, but I think that probably wasn't possible technically . . .
• That's right.
• So I thought it was great that you nevertheless went outside to play after the meal, even though it was getting dark.  I might encourage you to move the meal just a bit earlier to give yourself more playtime between the main meal and dessert.  I also thought it made sense to have dessert much later.
• Thank you.

---

• I have an opinion about the dessert.  Would you like to hear it?
• Yes.
• I LOVED the pumpkin pudding plus a cookie instead of a pie with a crust.  Those cookies were BANANAS they were so delicious.  And I always forget how delicious fresh whipped cream is.
• I agree!

And there you have it!  Far more than you wanted to know about my Thanksgiving.  I'd say the main takeaway is: MAKE THOSE COOKIES!

* A caveat: I have participated in discussions using CRP but I have not had the pleasure of studying with Ms. Lerman herself and do not profess to be doing this perfectly.  I borrowed this blog posts's outline of the process to guide my own. 

Good Idea: toddler open mics

Previously, my kiddo went through a phase where he told kid-style jokes which he mostly learned from a library book about Fozzie Bear (whence he also learned to punctuate his jokes by saying "wokka wokka") and popsicle sticks.

Currently, he has moved into a phase in which he makes up his own jokes.  For instance:

So here is my idea: an open mic night for toddlers! (and their parents!)

I imagine it would happen on, say, a Sunday around 5PM - early enough for the kids (aka "the talent") not to be melting down because its too close to bed time, but still late enough for the adults to enjoy a cocktail in a socially-acceptable way.  The venue could be pretty much anywhere, though it would be imperative that adults be allowed to bring in kid snacks.

The kids could go up and tell jokes and stories and do impressions.  I feel like it would be all kinds of good practice for them in terms of public speaking, being a good audience member, empathy, delayed gratification . . . And while non-parents would think it was a horror show (and they wouldn't be wrong), parents would find it totally entertaining (and maybe a good way to make other parent-friends?). 

This would NOT ever be an opportunity for scouts to come find child stars of the future.  It would be purely for the entertainment and gratification of kids and their parents.  And while I'm sure much of the time it would be a mess, I'm also sure that it would yield Andy Kaufman-worthy moments of avant garde comedy GENIUS! 

What's your best kid joke?  Post it in the comments!

Summer reading for Peanuts

My kiddo - who is 3.25 years old - has loved stories pretty much forever.  He loves to be read to and he loves to be told made-up stories.  I noticed a while ago that, if we were making up a story for him, he had a pretty high tolerance for a story much longer than the average picture book.

We dipped our toe in with The Invention of Hugo Cabret which alternates a few pages of plain text with many pages of text-free illustration.  Later, over the course of a couple of low-energy sick days, we plowed through Peter Pan.  So we continued. 

Mixing longer books in with the picture books kept me from getting really sick of reading and re-reading the same five-minute story over and over again.  Longer stories have also been great as a way to enjoy some quiet time after a big day at camp or on the playground, and they keep us all entertained on longer car rides or the occasional flight. There's also something nice about having more entertainment in a smaller, lighter volume given all the other stuff we're inevitably schlepping around.

Early on, we had some hits and some misses.  The Wizard of Oz was great . . . except for that scary chapter where she sends her pack of wolves to attack Dorothy and friends (yikes!).  The Enormous Crocodile was a pretty big (if slightly intense) hit which got me excited for more Roald Dahl, but The Magic Finger which focuses on characters who hunt ducks introduced a slew of concepts we weren't necessarily excited to discuss and Esio Trot was too much about spelling or romance (or both).  James and the Giant Peach seemed like it would be a good idea, 'till I started to read it and realized that James' parents are killed by an escaped rhino in the first two pages.  Duh, mom.

But, with the help of the wonderful people at our favorite local book store, Bank Street Books, we've really hit our stride this Summer.  These books all hit the sweet spot of being a great story, but with mostly accessible vocabulary for a younger kiddo, a picture on every page or two, and content that doesn't venture too far beyond their years.  And they're fun to read as an adult.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl.  I'm a lifelong fan of Dahl, but most of his books are too edgy for our kiddo right now.  Not so Charlie and the Chocolate Factory which we borrowed from the library and read all the way through at least four or five times before returning it a couple of weeks later. 

My Father's Dragon by Ruth Stiles Gannett.  This is a trilogy, although I happen to like the first book the best.  Each is about 70 pages long with a picture on every other page or so.  They are stories of a young, kindhearted and very independent little boy going on an adventure to find and rescue a captive baby dragon and the adventures that ensue. 

Mercy Watson series by Kate DiCamillo.  There are six books in the Mercy Watson series beginning with Mercy Watson to the Rescue, about the (mis)adventures of a toast-loving pig named Mercy, her owners Mr. & Mrs. Watson and their neighbors on Deckawoo Drive.  All the books are lushly illustrated in full color by Chris Van Dusen.  The books feel old-fashioned and wholesome though they are contemporary.  The characters are a bunch of delightful oddballs.

Bink & Gollie by Kate Di Camillo & Alison McGhee.  We discovered Bink & Gollie through the Mercy Watson books.  There are currently three books in this series about a pair of best friends who love roller-skating, pancakes and each other most of all.  These books feel a bit like the Elephant & Piggie books for the next age group up and they're the shortest books on this list.

The Magic Treehouse by Mary Pope Osborne.  This is a fun series because it involves time travel and magic.  The first book in the series - Dinosaurs Before Dark - was an instant favorite.  A word of caution, though, as other books in the series dip in and out of being little-kiddo appropriate.  A book set during the Civil War, for example, (which I never should have agreed to read, so that's on me) prompted a discussion of war in general, and an explanation of slavery - it was just a lot for a 3 year old.  So these are recommended but not without some parental vetting. 

The Boxcar Children by Gertrude Chandler Warner.  Because the first book is about kids who are alone in the world, fending for themselves, we skipped it and went right on to Book Two: Surprise Island which is delightful old-fashioned.  Four siblings are allowed a summer largely to themselves on their wealthy grandfather's private island where they gather and prepare their own food, craft their own museum, and discover American Indian artifacts.  These books are probably the biggest wild-card of the group and, like the Magic Treehouse books, should probably be vetted on an individual basis for appropriateness, but the kiddo and I are well into the Woodshed Mystery (#7) and having a great time with it. 

What are you reading with the kiddos in your life this summer?  Leave a comment! 

Mother's Day at Storm King

We had the most beautiful Mother's Day!   

Have you been to Storm King?  It's an open-air museum full of mostly-but-not-only large-scale modern sculptures, situated beautifully on a large campus about an hour outside of NYC.  You can bring a picninc.  You can rent bikes to toodle around.  It's gorgeous AND it's a great place to go with young kids who can run and make noise and explore and enjoy nature as well as taking in the art.  Here are some photos to give you a sense:

The open space, the woods at the borders, the sun, the smell of the air all combined to evoke so many happy memories of my back yard, summer camp at Cornell, time in England, time at Vassar, biking in France with my husband.  The biggest gift was how it all combined to make me (allow me?) to feel more expansive, happy and optimistic than I have in a really long time.

I don't imagine that Storm King will provide such a profoundly joyful experience for everyone as it does for me, but I do encourage you to go for a visit if you have the chance. 

Calico Easter Eggs

For Christmas, Santa brought my son a doll house.  It was the only thing he wanted. 

The doll house was very popular right around Christmas, then it had a long-ish break with intermitent play, but lately it's been getting a lot more attention again.  These days, though, my son is NOT into having the doll house in any kind of order.  In fact, he used the word "ransacked" to describe how it looked which was accurate.  Why he wants his poor Koala family to live like that is beyond me, but it prompted me go get a little bin to put the tiny accessories in so they don't get vaccummed up during this disarray phase.  And looking at all of the delightful little doll house things, reminded me of this amazing Easter Egg the makers hid in the newspapers that came with the living room furniture.

There are two newspapers.  Sunday, April 1 and Monday, April 2.  Here they are:

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I mean, come on.  He discovered a treasure!  But then: he was so disappointed because "Treasure was just a broken box!"  I find this endlessly hilarious.  And I want to thank whoever behind the scenes at Epoch or Tomy designed these amazing tiny newspapers. 

Mickey, Gillian and Me

I worked with Mickey Rooney, who died this past week, when I was a little girl.  I remember doing not-much-at-all in one scene of something-or-other and being totally confused about which guy Mickey Rooney even was for most of the time, but I remember that it was a BIG deal to the adults in my family.  Mickey Rooney was a big deal and rightly so.  He was also the rare individual who managed to start acting as a kid and sustain that career into (and, in his case, through) his adulthood.

 

A couple of months ago, Gillian Jacobs (who you probably know from the TV show Community) was interviewed in Backstage and had this to say about her own transition from being a child actor to an adult one:

“I had a very difficult time at school. I think when you have some success as a kid, your notion of being a good actor is pleasing the director, doing exactly what they tell you to do,” she says. “Juilliard wanted me to realize I had agency in my role as an actor: It was important for me to make decisions and have opinions and not just do what they told me to do to the best of my ability. I think that’s a big paradigm shift.”

I've been thinking about this passage ever since I read it because it is such an excellent and succinct articulation of one of (THE?) biggest difference between going to auditions as a kid and going as an adult and why it can be so hard to find success as an adult after a childhood career.  I remember when I was re-embarking on an acting career after college, the adults around me - my parents, my childhood manager and agent - all said "you know what you're doing."  And, in retrospect, I'm not at all convinced that I did.  I've spent the intervening years trying to make sure I do know what I'm doing and discovering that I not only can but SHOULD have my own point of view as an artist - even as an actor saying someone else's words - is a more exciting opportunity on any given day than pleasing someone else.

Still, going in with that need to please - equating pleasing others with "success" - is a difficult habit to break, particularly when one has received so many positive strokes for that very thing growing up.  It's something I continue to work against - with mindfulness and practice - in the interest of being a truly excellent artist.  Even more, though, I don't think that this people-pleasing as an undermining factor in living a fully self-actualized life is limited to former young performers.  It seems to me that we get stuck in lots of roles we played as people growing up and that determining who we really are (and who we really want to be) is a huge part of becoming an adult and finding personal success for all of us.

Mickey Rooney had his share of ups and downs.  In his NY Times obit, Aljean Harmetz writes:

Although his career was one of the longest in show business history — almost 90 years separated his first movie from his last — it was crammed with detours and dead ends. (“There have been crevices, fissures, pits, and I’ve fallen into a lot of them,” he told The Times in 1979.)

It would be facile (not to mention presumptuous) to assume that those ups and downs all stemmed from a people-pleasing need, but hard not to suspect that that impulse wasn't at least one of the challenges in Mr. Rooney's mix.

What outdated aspect of your identity are you still carrying around or wrestling with?  How have you moved beyond that limitation and what has that meant for you?  Tell us all in the comments!

The Female of the Species

Yesterday morning, W (15 months) and I were headed to the park. I was pushing his empty stroller and he was walking alongside me, holding my hand. He gets a lot of looks when we do this - it's that funny little kid walk that's funny and cute. It doesn't hurt that he likes to wave and say Hi to random people. Anyway, we were walking along, and we were overtaken by a bigger kid - maybe three or four years old - a little girl walking along with her mom (I assume) and another lady. If the adults noticed W, I didn't see, but the little girl sure did. She locked her eyes onto him and did not stop staring 'till she was too far ahead of us to comfortably look that far behind her. She started with what seemed like a "serious" look, and as she (and we and it) progressed, her look got meaner and meaner. She was staring daggers at W.

I wondered what she was thinking - because he's too little to be anything but oblivious - and I flashed back to an incomplete memory of girls acting a lot meaner than they actually were. Unfairly, I only clearly remember being the victim of those "mean" girls - trying on extra meanness learned from TV or bigger kids or who-knows-what for effect. It's just a funny thing that seems to happen - like some kind of junior-social-darwinism - like puppies or bears play-fighting, I suppose.

The girls I remember practicing meanness on me, the ones with whom I'm still in touch, have all (as far as I can tell) grown up to be lovely women. I assume - I hope - this little girl will do the same. I still can't quite figure what's being worked out in the exercise, though. What are the little girls learning through the process and what would be lost if they stopped? And are the boys doing this too? (My sense is that, whatever boys are doing, it's different.)

Maybe someone science-y will leave a comment with the answer.