My stomach was reeling from a mixture of too much Chardonnay and too much pumpkin pie, when I realized there’s no room in my living room for a Christmas tree.

I had to have a tree, my mother was coming for the holiday and she was bringing presents. A tree was the necessary showcase for her beautifully wrapped gifts. And what of my daughter? Miranda couldn’t be the only one in her public school with no tree.

I slowly spun around the room looking for what furniture we might tuck into the garage until the relatives leave. There’s a couch, a chair, a coffee table, a bookshelf, all necessary for social and familial functions.

Then my eyes landed on my daughter’s worktable. It had started innocently enough, with a plastic container full of paper and a bucket of Crayola crayons. Now the worktable has taken over about a third of the living room. Plain paper, stickers, beads, Pokemon cards, glue sticks, paint brushes, glitter pens, small and large markers have spilled off the table and made incursions under the table.

As I gazed at the mess in my living room, I pondered joining a religion that doesn’t celebrate Christmas. My first choice was Buddhism, but I’m lousy at meditation. My second was Hinduism, but it’s hard enough for me to remember my daughter’s and husband’s names much less a pantheon of Gods and Goddesses.

So I decided on buying the biggest storage bins I could find. I know I could just throw stuff out, but that would require negotiating with my daughter. I tried that once, asking if we could throw some stuff out. My daughter, who is 5, looked up at me with clear blue eyes, her hands on her hips, and said in an offended tone, “I love everything I make.”

That’s how I found myself in Target on the weekend after Thanksgiving looking at storage bins. I found three that stack and will fit in my garage. So, tonight, after my daughter has gone to bed, I will strategically cull the worktable leaving enough mess so she won’t notice what’s gone. I know someday I’ll have to toss stuff and risk her displeasure. But that’s not until I run out of room in the garage.

I hope she’s off to college by then.

By Georgie Craig

Labels: artistic daughter, birth mother, Buddhism, Chardonnay, Christmas trees, Crayola, Georgie Craig, Gifts, Hinduism, meditation, Pokemon, pumpkin pie, Target

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We read that it’s good to praise your child, in fact, a ratio of five positive statements to every negative one is recommended. I understand the concept and believe in it. However, I am surprised at how often saying nothing at all is the best response, despite it being incredibly challenging given the driving insistence of my daughter.

Last week, she asked for a skateboard. Her dad bought her one. The next day at the park, she couldn’t get the board to turn without shifting the front end. She was frustrated and asked me what to do.

“Maybe your foot position isn’t right.”

“But, it is, Mommy. “

“Maybe it’s about weighting your feet on the board. “

“I can’t Mommy or I'll fall. “

“I don’t know then. “

“But, Mommy, it’s not working. The board is broken. “

“It’s not broken. You'll figure this out," I say as I walk away.

She feigns crying.

I know from experience that the ONLY plausible response on my part at this moment is to say nothing, no matter what she says, or what she accuses me of: in short, completely ignore her. This is very hard for me, because I am tempted to conjure up just one more angle that might solve her problem. The trouble is that she’s not listening to me, she can’t at this point. She has to realize that only she will solve it.

Friends, this has worked so many times. It worked with her Heelys. She was miffed when I left her stranded in the kitchen one day. But, guess what she did! She set up the kitchen chairs in a row and pulled herself from one to the next until she became more comfortable with the sliding action. Then, she took the chairs away one by one, until she was zipping solo across all the bare floors of the house, then down the aisles at Costco and Target. I could not have come up with the chair idea if I tried.

Will she master the skateboard? I’d put my money on it. Should I keep my advice and commentary to a minimum? Yes, except that I slipped yesterday. She completed a half circle on the board.

“You’re amazing!” I said.

By Vicki Inglis

Labels: Costco, Heeleys, skateboarding, supportive mother, Target, Vicki Inglis

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