Getting Ready

Just wanted to pop in quickly and let you know what we’ve been up to the last few weeks. After a great visit with Nana D (Matt’s mom) we’ve spent the last week preparing for that time-honored ritual among overseas expats … the long summer holiday at home.  We’re heading back to the States today (leaving HK at 4 in the afternoon and arriving at LAX two hours earlier). This is how we’ve been getting ready: 

1. Swimming. Mainly at our pool, but going to the beach too.  The water is really the only place to be once the thermometer hits 30, after all.  Plus, the pool is the only place where Finn is at a disadvantage by crawling, so he’s actually been walking! (Not on land yet, though.)  The biggest advantage of swimming, however, is that it tires him out like nobody’s business, which = long naps and long nights.  Both of which allow us to do….

2. Laundry. loads and loads.  Seriously mad amounts of laundry. Last night we kept setting the alarm clock so we could get up and switch the machine from wash to dry, or throw in another load. I have this crazy goal of having everything we take with us be clean, and everything we leave here (including bath towels and bed linens) be clean. Five weeks in a hot, closed-up apartment is just too long to leave dirty stuff to smolder, but this is one logistical feat that makes me understand why people hire full-time helpers.     

3. Scheming. Planning. Making lists. Packing. Weighing. Repacking. 

4. Crafting. I’m putting together a grab bag of toys (ie, post-it notes and stickers) to keep Finn busy on the plane, and wrapping each one to prolong the excitement. I couldn’t find any puppets I loved (or were worth the cost!) so I made these out of an old pair of socks:

And this–Finn’s farm mat.  I took some of his favorite animal photos, laminated them and put velcro on the back. Then made this felt horizon to play with them on.  For a boy who loves his velcro and loves his animals, we’re hoping this buys at least, oh, 15 minutes.  Our seatmates hope so too.  

See you on the other side of the Pacific!  If you’re the praying sort, we could use a few today.

The golden days of summer …

Hope life is golden and full of light, wherever you are.

let’s call it crab flu …

I’ve been feeling a bit whiny lately about the Hong Kong government’s decision to close all primary schools/kindergartens/nurseries, etc. It means that most other classes and playgroups we attend are closed as well, and now they’ve closed our building’s beloved playroom, along with all the government-run indoor playrooms. And before you think I’m too much of a spoiled brat, remember that in HK there are no such thing as yards, and very few expanses of grass for kids to run around in. There are great playgrounds, but they almost universally have no shade and have a black rubber ground surface, which renders the area and the equipment so hot that they are virtually unusable this time of year. So, we’re back to the stairwells, playing in the lobby and going to the beach whenever it’s not raining. (Admittedly not a bad back-up option, though the rain clause is important.) 

I had been feeling whiny, that is, until I remembered two things about Hong Kong that make dealing with diseases a little bit different. My Hong Kong culture/history book puts the population density here as 35,700 per square km (numbers differ–this one represents the northern side of the island and Kowloon put together, but doesn’t include the mountains or New Territories.) This is right up there with Mumbai, Karachi and Beijing. New York’s population density, on the other hand, is 17,400/sq. km, London’s is 4761/sq. km, and Tokyo’s is 13, 416/sq. km. 

The other aspect is just due to the character of Hong Kong, as a metropolis in transit. As opposed to NY, London, Tokyo or other “world” cities, which, in my admittedly unstudied opinion, see themselves as the center of the world, with all things coming there, HK really sees itself as the hub of the world–all things pass through here.  

Put those two things together (extremely high density and constant international transit) and you have a territory that is extremely vulnerable, and still traumatized by the memory of SARS. I’m still not convinced that closing schools and playgroups was necessary, but I do understand why they made the decision they did.     

Now we’re just praying that my mother-in-law shows no symptoms of illness when she arrives at the airport tonight, nor do any of her seatmates, either of which could land her in quarantine.

Numerology

Remember that post about Cantonese language where I said that the number four was bad luck? Well, we’ve lived here almost 9 months, riding the lift multiple times a day, and yesterday was the first day I noticed this:

See it? (or technically, don’t see it?) Try this–

  

Interesting, huh?

A love song to Montessori, part two.

So here’s a quick rundown of household activities Finn and I do together (see yesterday’s post for how I got started doing this):  

Teeth and hair-brushing: Finn rarely gets the right end of the brush on his head, but he does love to do it and especially loves to come over and brush my hair hit my head with the brush! He’s pretty good with the tooth brush, though he thinks that twisting his torso means he’s moving the brush back and forth.  

Sweeping: He bangs around his little broom while I sweep under the table (and then he picks through the dust pile, scavenging for food scraps!). Every once in awhile he gets the right motion, and soon I’m going to put a masking-tape square on the floor, (a la Tim Seldin) to give a visual reference for where to sweep the dirt. (One “Montessori” thing I haven’t yet tried is devise any games meant to help him practice the skills used in the real activity. But I’m thinking that a little game with sweeping buttons into the masking-tape-square might be useful in helping him get the sweeping motion down, with a larger target than dust.)   

 Wiping: If he finds a cloth he wipes off every surface he can find, cleaning things I’m quite confident he’s never seen me clean (because I’ve never cleaned them!). So I give him one if I’m dusting, or spot-cleaning the floor, or otherwise wiping something down. We have pretty clean chair and table legs, thanks to him.   

Kitchen: We recently purchased a step-stool from Ikea (go Bekvam!) and it’s the perfect height for Finn to stand and watch me wash dishes, wash vegetables, etc.  I don’t let him up there when I’m doing anything with the knife or at the stove … our kitchen is so small that he could easily reach both counters from the stool in the middle. But he loves to watch and play in the water, and he helps too … I hand him a lettuce leaf, he dips it in the water, and then places on a towel to dry. Of course, the clean lettuce often gets mixed back in with the dirty stuff, but that’s ok. It’s all clean in the end.  

Laundry: He actually is a help with the laundry. We have a front-loader in our kitchen, so I pile the clothes in front of the washer, then he puts them in, one at a time. It’s funny–he loves doing it, but he doesn’t have a long attention span for this one–he’s done about halfway though and wants to shut the door. Finn unloading the dry clothes is about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. He takes things out, one at a time, and places them in his little walker-cart, which he then wheels to the sofa and unloads. (Ok, so, full disclosure: this takes a lot of direction from me, and he’s only interested in one load and his load consists of maybe four washcloths. But still, he likes it and he’s learning. and it’s so darn cute.)

 Montessori emphasizes “process not product” and I try to remember this when I watch him spend a very long time picking out those four washcloths and dropping them deliberately in the cart, then taking them out again and then back into the cart. He’s not interested in the product of an empty dryer, he’s interested in the process of taking something out of one place and setting it in a new place. 

 I think this explains why learning to eat with a fork is so much less frustrating for Finn than I expected.  He’s perfectly happy to hold the fork, make an attempt to stab something, then eat with his hands for while, and then try again with the fork. He frequently picks up food with his hands and sticks it on the fork’s tines himself. We keep waiting for him to get upset at his lack of success, until we remember that to him, he is succeeding. He’s ultimately getting the food in his mouth, and he’s learning how to use a fork, and again, the process seems to be as satisfying to him as the product. 

 

 

 

How Montessori changed my life … or at least my mornings.

For as long as Finn has been taking regular morning naps, I have run a daily marathon. The second those sweet eyes finally shut, I would oh-so-gently tiptoe out the door, avoiding the squeak in the floorboard, and then literally sprint through the house: showering, tooth-brushing, dressing, cleaning up, throwing in laundry, etc. It was comic, yes, but exhausting. I always held out hope that I’d get to check email and scan the headlines, but this rarely happened before he woke up. (Maybe I should have focused on trying to lengthen his naps but I never had much luck with that …)  

Thanks to the alternate universe of mommy-blogging, enter Montessori. (Specifically, thanks to Marcy at Life is Good and Meg at Sew Liberated (who just had her own Finn!), both Montesssori-trained teachers, now SAHMs, who occasionally post explicitly Monetssori stuff, and who got me reading Tim Seldin’s How to Raise an Amazing Child and Polk’s and Jessen’s Montessori From the Start.)  

It’s not that I’m by any means a “Montessorian”–my knowledge is limited and new, and I’m not really all that concerned about following any method perfectly.  But reading Montessori theory has given me confidence to nurture the interest that Finn shows in imitating everything we do, and it’s given us practical tips in how to do so. 

So now, instead of rushing around to do everything myself, I wait for Finn to wake up and we tackle the chores together. The only thing I do during the nap is shower. After that, I sit with a cuppa and read emails and headlines in peace, and that 15 minutes or so of quiet lets me feel caught up with myself and the world and makes a huge difference in the rest of my day. 

 After he wakes, we spend the next hour or so working on all those chores I used to race through. I know, I know … a 15-month-old? Doing chores? It’s not that we’re trying to raise a super-kid, and it’s not that we’re into slave labor. It’s just that he, without any prompting from us, kept grabbing cloths and trying to wipe off any and every surface in the house, and kept grabbing the broom and trying to sweep.  So we’re teaching him, very gently and with no pressure, how to actually do these things correctly, mainly by doing it the same way ourselves, over and over (ie, wiping the table from left to right each time we do it). He studies what we do, and over time, you can tell that he’s getting it.

Really, though, it’s less about teaching and more about just finding ways that he can be involved in as many household activities as possible. Believe me, this whole thing surprises us everyday. Oh, and just in case you think this sounds kind of cruel, he is way more engaged and interested in these activites than he is with most of his toys. Apart from physical things, like pushing his walker-cart or climbing up a slide, standing at the kitchen counter and doing dishes or dinner prep holds his attention longer than anything else.  

Since this is already so long, I’ll wait until tomorrow to post what all we do, and how we’ve adapted things so he can help. But just to tide you over, here’s a couple of pictures I took of Finn today, washing greens with me. (full disclosure: he fell off that step-stool just minutes after these pictures were taken. He’s climbed up and down it safely gobs of times, I promise … )

On gratitude

The NY Times today has a post in their “Motherlode” blog in which Marc Vachon (of Equally Shared Parenting) argues against thanking one’s spouse (particularly husbands) too much, for work they should be doing anyway.

I mention this because Matt and I have been talking recently about theories of praising children (ie, how much, when, what kind, etc.)  The basic idea (in our reading) is that too much praise, especially for things the child should be doing anyway, makes children dependent on external validation, instead of internal. Experts also distinguish between evaluative praise, which confuses the child’s identity with their actions, and descriptive praise, which simply describes the action and lets the child define their own identity. (Clear as mud, right?  Evaluative praise: “You’re a great artist,” descriptive praise: “That’s a beautiful picture; I love the colors you chose.”  Evaluative: “You’re so strong,” descriptive:  ”That was heavy. Thanks for helping me carry it.”) I digress.   

I get Marc Vachon’s main argument with the way society gushes over men’s contributions to family and household life.  My friend Jeff at Competent Parent has a similar beef, in that people see his fathering (he’s the primary caretaker of their two sons) as something either extraordinary or as glorified babysitting, when really, he’s just parenting. (If you’re in need of a father’s day gift, by the way, for the competent parent in your life, check out his t-shirts.) 

But while it makes sense to me that there is such a thing as too much praise, I’m not really sure that there can be too much gratitude. Certainly there’s a problem if the gratitude is unequally expressed, and certainly gratitude can be expressed in a demeaning or manipulative way.  But I fail to see the problem with sincere appreciation for another’s work, whether expected or not, paid or not, enjoyed or not. I always liked being appreciated by a coworker or boss, and I don’t think that took anything away from my own personal satisfaction in doing good work, nor did I need it as a motivator to do said work. It just felt good to have my contribution recognized in a way other than the weekly paycheck. 

In fact, I’ve come to believe that gratitude is really one of the most important spiritual disciplines, right up there with prayer and keeping the Sabbath.  And I mean not only gratitude to God but also gratitude for all the people in our lives who make our lives what they are.  

So tonight, after I make dinner, just as I have for most nights of our marriage, Matt will most likely thank me.  And knowing that in advance doesn’t make me appreciate his appreciation any less. And then, after he washes dishes, which he has done most nights of our marriage, I will thank him. It’s not because I find it extraordinary that he’s doing the dishes, or that he’s such an extraordinary dish-washer. It’s that washing dishes, like making dinner, cleaning the toilets or taking the early morning shift with Finn, is part of the work that has to be done everyday to make our lives work. And even though we rarely think in such glorified terms, every day that we choose to keep doing this daily work, we are choosing again our life. For that, I’m thankful.

Five (not so) quick takes

A few blogs I read post occasional “seven quick takes”–short thoughts not really worthy of a full posting all by themselves. I’ve got this running list of things I’ve been wanting to share, so in the spirit of some mental “spring cleaning,” I’m doing my own quick takes. 

1. We have never been so thankful for our apartment building as we have this past week … a week that has literally drowned us in rain, everyday, all day. Coinciding, as it has, with Finn’s growing skills in walking and thus Finn’s growing desire to walk further than the few steps it takes to cross our living room, we have been visiting our building’s indoor playroom multiple times a day. We take his walker with us, and between the walk from our door to the elevator, and then down in the lobby (mirrors! shiny things! doormen!), and then laps around the playroom, he gets quite a workout. I have also resorted to using the stairwell when he really needs a change of scenery. We’ll get off on the 10th or 11th floor, and then he starts climbing. He’s panting by the time we reach the 18th floor, but he gets upset when I make him turn off into our hallway. (This is, incidentally, how I got to enjoy our church’s long Good Friday service. We sat in the back, near the balcony stairs. He climbed those stairs at least 15 times and was thus both quiet and happy.)

 2. Last week we got Finn his own little table and chairs, and he’s quite taken with it. We still eat meals at the big table, but snacks, coloring (with new crayon rocks!) and other little games take place on his table.  

3. Just because I haven’t mentioned new restaurant discoveries doesn’t mean there haven’t been any. A couple of note: Hansung, Co., on Kimberly Street in Kowloon. This is Korean diner home-cooking, in a stylin’ but simple atmosphere. And even though we’d never had it before, our noodles with pork and kimchi tasted like comfort food. 

Also, Initial, a coffeeshop in a designer-clothes store, also in Kowloon. Beautiful design, if a bit contrived (old, barn-wood floors, white-washed walls, eclectic furniture with lots of peeling paint, etc. Totally believable and appropriate in Vermont, but this is Hong Kong. And those clothes cost a LOT of money.) But–here is the latte I ordered, and while I’m not normally one for cutesy garnishes, this made me smile.     

4. Sunday’s prayer of confession at church was convicting and comforting all at once, in light of my little elevator-rage last week. (Which is, I suppose, what church should offer: both the diagnosis and the cure.) 

“Forgive us, most gracious God, for what we have done to bring pain to those we love, to those who need us to reflect the love of your Son into their lives. We repent of our hard and unkind words, our careless and thoughtless deeds, our lack of compassion and reluctance to put the needs of others before our own wants and desires. We confess our sins and need for you. In the forgiveness of your cross, grant us your Spirit as we worship you this day. Amen.” 

 5. And lastly, I’ve updated our flickr page with new photos from May and new videos from December and January. (Yes, I’m that far behind. We’re working on it, though. Thursday is a public holiday, so we’ve got big plans to video Finn in this particular stage of learning to walk. Everyday he’s a little less like a drunken sailor. I’ll try to post it before he runs his first marathon.) 

That’s all!  Hope you folks back home are enjoying your three-day weekend.

The humble pedestrian

A few quirks of behaviors here in HK I alternately find annoying or amusing (when able-bodied people take up space in the lifts rather than use the escalator, for example, or when upon entering those lifts, they press the close door button repeatedly), but I work to not be angry. I’m learning to just do as those proverbial Romans, and have consequently become much more assertive in sidewalk-maneuvering, especially when I have the stroller. 

 The real trick, however, is in adopting both the behavior and the attitude. See, Hong Kongers aren’t angry when they push past you and they aren’t annoyed by waiting in line at the lifts. So I’m trying to join in on not only the quasi-aggressive tactics, but also on the sense that it’s all just part of the game, part of walking down the street, part of riding the MTR. And mostly, that works.  

But sometimes, like this morning, it doesn’t work, and I get angry.  We were out shopping with Finn in the stroller, trying to get on a lift to take us down to the trains, waiting in a long line of primarily able-bodied folks (excepting one man in a wheelchair and his companion.) The typically small and slow lift arrived, the man in the wheelchair got on, and then the lift was filled with everyone else, including people who rushed past us to get on, filling it up so that there was no room for our stroller. 

And something in me snapped. I began reading very loudly the sign posted next to every lift: “Please give priority to those in need who have to use the lift.” Even as the doors shut I continued reading, until Matt hushed me. 

Were we in the right, and they in the wrong? Certainly. Was it a big deal for us to wait an extra few minutes? Not a bit. And was my response childish? Absolutely. I still cringe a little when I think about it, so far was it from who I would like to be, from the humility Christ modeled, from the example I want to model for Finn, from just general graciousness. And all day long, Paul’s words echoed in my head: “In humility consider others better than yourself” (Philippians 2:3).  

Being forced off the sidewalk by a group of teenagers walking arm-in-arm and not giving way: “In humility, consider others better than yourself.” Fighting my way off the MTR through people standing in the doorway: “In humility consider others better than yourself.” Simply wanting to walk faster than the old couple in front of us, holding hands and weaving all over the sidewalk: “In humility consider others better than yourself.” 

God, help this not-so-humble pedestrian walk slowly, wait patiently, and elbow gently.

Us according to Finn

So I know that kids come with their own little personalities and sense of self, but I really thought we’d get to choose what Finn calls us (at least until teenage days, right?) We have always addressed ourselves as mama and papa, saying these words deliberately and frequently. And no, I wasn’t hurt when Finn’s first word was ball, then bird, then book, then papa, but then …. mom? Come on son, does it really have to be mom? Not that there’s anything wrong with mom–it’s what I call my own mom, after all–it’s just not what I wanted, and not what he’s ever heard us say. He also seems to be leaning towards dada for Matt, again, with absolutely no prompting from us whatsoever. We literally have had the following exchanges multiple times lately: 

me: mama

Finn: mom

me: mama

Finn: mom 

and 

Matt: papa

Finn: dada

Matt: papa

Finn: dada 

 What’s up with this?  Could a kid really come programmed this way?  I guess it’s time to start letting go of any plans we have for him, even the most innocuous …