Feeding the soul...

I had to stop for gas the other day, and the kids were getting impatient. They wanted to go home. I had promised them something as a bribe to get them into the car and they were eager to have their reward. So, when I pulled into the gas station, they started to object bitterly. Like any normal mom, I was eager to avoid screaming, so I appealed to their logic and decided to explain why we needed to gas up the car.

I know… don’t laugh. First…logic in 3 year olds? Uhm, Right…. Second, how could you possibly explain the need to gas up a car to such a young child? But as a trained language teacher, I hold the firm belief that most concepts can be explained to most people. It’s all a matter of using the right language.

Here’s what I said.

I explained that our car was hungry and that if we didn’t give it food, it would stop going. I further explained that gas is the food that cars like best. Silence from the back of the car. I was about to really mock myself for even presuming that my words would have significance when, from the back of the car, came a little toddler voice.

“The car is hungry?” My daughter inquired?

“Yes” I confirmed, hiding my surprise. “The car is very hungry. If we don’t give it food, it won’t be able to take us home.”

She paused and narrowed her eyes in thought.

“And gas is food?” My daughter continued.

“Yes, honey.” I smiled at her. “Cars love to eat gas. It’s their favorite food.”

“Oh” she said. And smiled. She got it.

My son didn’t speak during the conversation, but his eyes were following us and processing the words the whole time. If I had to make an educated guess, based on his facial expressions, I think he understood as well.  At the very least, he nodded and smiled at the right times to make me believe so.

 I should have known that my kids would understand anything if I related it to food.

But it got me thinking. It got me thinking about the many different ways that we “go” and the different kinds of “food” that we need in order to facilitate that movement.

While this connection might seem random to some, it made sense to me. I firmly believe that this thought came to me because I have hit a point in my life where I recognize the vast amount of ME that has been lost in the process of becoming a mom of twins. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really complaining.  It’s just that before kids, I was pretty creative. I made jewelry. I loved to cook recipes with multiples steps and that required their own trip to the supermarket. In winter, I would spend most of a Saturday morning and afternoon cooking and listening to music. I even went through a phase, a few years back, of making my own candles and they looked pretty nice.  I read tons of books and could list off authors that I enjoyed and respected.

Now, not so much. Two infants don’t really leave you much time for personal enrichment, to put it mildly. With my kids starting preschool and getting older (and consequently more independent) I am starting to get back to being that previous form of me. But it takes work. And it takes food. Not in the literal sense, of course, but in the figurative sense.  The down time a brain requires to fuel such creativity just does not occur these days and the creative fatigue brought on by the inevitable survival mode does not facilitate the levels of creativity I used to reach. I just don’t get the opportunity to feed my soul the way I used to.

But it’s getting better every day. I’m back to making jewelry sometimes and writing time is back to being a priority. (Evidenced by this blog, of course). I’m feeding my creative brain as much and as often as I can and the progress feels wonderful.

There really are all kinds of food in life.

The toys every family must have!

Our house is a toy heaven, or maybe a toy hell. I guess it depends on your perspective. We have everything. And I do mean everything. We have books, puzzles and a train table covered in Thomas trains and wooden tracks. We have art supplies galore, trucks and cars and a trampoline. Dress up clothes and doll clothing. A toy kitchen chock full of plastic food and utensils. You name it, we have it. And it’s probably played with too… which is what makes it so hard to do a big cleanout. Every time I am just about to declare a toy finished, my kids find it again and thwart my plans. Maybe I’m just a big softie.

 We have been teased that we should open a daycare. Although I have no interest in running such a business, we could certainly be prepared on the material front. While my kids are not brats, they certainly are spoiled. My only comfort is that they get more hugs, kisses and discipline than toys, so we’re not doing too much damage.  I hope.

That said, every family needs a certain number of toys to ensure their survival in day to day life. Especially on those days when leaving the house isn’t an option.

What are these essential toys, you ask? I’ll let you in on my bizarre and personal perspective on the issue.

1-      A Zen toy. Yes, you read it right. A “Zen” toy. This is a toy that transports your child into their Zen mode, makes their body relax and their mind ignite. Every kid has one, or maybe more than one. My son finds this in his train table. He could spend hours at his train table, “huffing and puffing” his trains around with a quietly content smile. You know… the smile that lights up the eyes and only lifts the corner of the mouth slightly. My daughter, until recently, didn’t have a Zen toy. She thoroughly enjoyed her toys, but none reached the Zen potential. Then, for Christmas, she was given a “Littlest pet shop” tree house toy. She loves it. Lies on the floor, on her side, putting her little animals in and singing quietly to herself. Her face rests into pure relaxation and her eyes shine with pleasure. For both my kids, it’s a priceless quiet. Not only is it low volume, but it’s the sound of tranquility.

2-      A really great noisy toy. I know… noisy toys are a no-no. They induce headaches in adults. Some of them don’t even have off switches so they start up with the slightest unintentional bump. And at the worst times. Oh, like, just when you FINALLY got the kids settled down and convinced them to go upstairs for bed. Nothing like the sounds of that noisy toy to remind them that fighting bedtime is fun.

On the other hand, the right noisy toy can bring hours of entertainment if properly chosen and implemented. For Christmas, we put together a wish list. On said list, we added a music set. A really loud one. Cymbals, a triangle, a tambourine, and wooden sticks to hit together. When you add it to the drum and maracas we already had, we have a veritable child band. A parade. And wow, is it loud. Especially the cymbals, which my son loves to bang together gleefully while giggling madly. I joke about his being the energizer bunny. My daughter loves to pound on the drums while singing her own personal version of Elmo’s song. It may be loud, but it’s wonderful. A treat, despite the volume.

3-      A technology based toy that allows you to accomplish an entire task (one that takes more than 10 minutes) without being interrupted multiple times. I know. It’s bad to put your child in front of Elmo/Thomas/Mickey Mouse just to get something done. Or is it? I know that some days we would have no dinner if it weren’t for Thomas or Mickey Mouse on TV. It keeps my kids happy, keeps them away from the kitchen (i.e. safe), and keeps them distracted enough to forget how much fun it is to hit each other and steal toys while taunting blatantly (i.e. saving dinner from being burned to a crisp). It also helps on the days when our imposed schedule makes a nap impossible, but the kids still need their down time to avoid major crankies. We put on some Thomas and cuddle on the sofa. Peace is restored. All is well.

4-      The perfect car toy. You know… the toy that lives in the car and keeps the kids happy while you are driving them to lunch or some other time when they are waiting for something that will satisfy a desperate need. For my kids, hunger is that desperate need. Every time.

You would laugh if you saw our perfect car toys. Really. Last year, about Valentine’s Day, Target started selling these wire flowers covered by fuzzy material. They cost 1$ each and they came in a few different colors. I bought a few and put them in the car. For a year now, these cheapo flowers have been our faithful companions. They are beloved and they are the victims of unlimited creativity. They dance and they fly. They even sing sometimes. But the funniest is when they bounce along to the song of the day. It’s great!  The best few dollars I ever spent.

I mean really. We adults obsess over our toys. (Cars, computers, shoes…) Why can’t our kids?

Ibble dibble to you too!

What’s that you say? Ibble dibble? Such nonsense! Exactly. Let me elaborate.

The first time I went to England with my (now) husband/ (then) boyfriend, he warned me in advance. His family plays party games.  “Party games? I inquired. “What kind of party games?” Well, as it turns out, they not only partake in a myriad of party games, it’s sort of like their own religion. It’s a passion, really. An essential tradition. It’s like they’re proclaiming “Hey, I know I’m not a kid anymore. But it’s the holiday season and I WILL act like a child if I want to, damn it!”

Maybe that’s why I like them so much.

 It’s utterly hilarious. They even have a home grown game where the loser ends up with a face full of baking flower. Yup, you betcha. Maturity at its best, I assure you. Uhmm, maybe not.

But I digress. Ibble dibble.

Ibble dibble is a group game, much like Thumper, for those of you that chose to involve yourself in drinking games in your past. The group sits in a circle and each person is assigned a number, moving sequentially around the room.

The person who is assigned #1 is not simply #1. They are “Ibble dibble #1”, of course. And it goes like this.  #1 looks at #5 (or another number if they so choose) and says “Ibble dibble number 1 with no dibbles to Ibble dibble number 5 with no dibbles”.

What’s a dibble? I’m so glad you asked.

A dibble is a round black mark on your forehead, created by the furious rubbing of a cork that has been burned to have an ashy finish.

How do you get a dibble? Good question! Your thinking cap is firmly on today!

You get a dibble when you make any mistakes. If you stammer over a word or say the wrong word. Or if you pause too long. You also are “dibbled” (yes, like Google, “to dibble” is now a verb) if you incorrectly identify the number of dibbles acquired by yourself or the person you are addressing. The game continues with people laughing hysterically and acquiring dibbles. The last person to be without dibbles is the winner. Given that we are all typically drinking, or considered by society to be young and immature, mistakes are not hard to come by.

The really intriguing part of the game, for me, is the manner in which the Ibble dibble statement is delivered. Some people proclaim their lack of dibble status with quiet pride, while others deliver it with attitude. One of the cousins actively moves her head side to side as she artfully avoids dibbles. We tease her mercilessly about this. She loves it. If the player speaking has less dibbles than the one they are addressing you might hear. “Ibble dibble with NO dibbles to Ibble dibble with TWO dibbles!” Huge emphases on the number of dibbles, as if to remind the other person that THEY have screwed up and YOU have not.

The “dibbler” is also quite the political job. Yes, dibble even takes a noun/subject form. Logically, the dibbler is the one who applies the dibbles. How forceful that person is, and if they apply the same force with everyone, makes HUGE statements. Our local dibbler is one of the youngest in the group and she takes this job quite seriously. It provides her a position of power that she might not otherwise have. She loves it, won’t give it up for anything.

I got curious about the origin of the game and looked it up. Ok, I’ll be totally honest. I wondered if my husband’s wonderfully insane family just made it up. Turns out they didn’t. According to my Google sources, the game started in France. Instead of “Ibble dibble”, the players are spotted cows. Oh yes… Spotted cows. “La vache qui tache”, to be more specific. It rhymes in French, but not in English, so they changed it to another nonsense expression. The spotted cow does make sense, though.  I mean really… can imagine a bunch of grown adults with black circles across their foreheads?

Ibble dibble. It’s part of what makes Christmas what it is. And I wouldn’t change it if I could.