Ham on Stage

Today was Clara's first public performance. She was great.
She was the child in tune, in time and on track during a concert at the girls' school. Margaret shook her egg and streamer to beat the band, but sang nary a word. She knows the words to the songs because she sings them at home. But not at school, and certainly not on the school stage, in front of a large audience of parents and friends. Clara, however, was right at home. I'm telling you, the child is a ham. Can't imagine where she gets it. I'm thinking back to dance recitals, when I was nine and dancing with teenagers because I was so tall. I took a movie with my phone and will download it when I have a second.
The rest of the day was also great. We spent some time on one of the school playgrounds. Margaret is obsessed with a toy shopping cart, pushing it around and putting things in it. If she continues to be successful in her plumbing system, I will buy her a shopping cart she can use at home. This smaller playground is shaded, which is good, because we have two of the whitest white girls I've ever seen. Margaret has slightly red hair and the white white skin redheads have. Bring me sunscreen!
Afterward, we ate lunch at the tofu place, and they even ate tofu. At home, we played outside in the sprinkler, or they did, in the afternoon. The firemen from a nearby station walk around our block. Every time they passed us, Margaret would say, "Hello, firemen!" and then give them rose leaves. They were gracious enough to take the leaves and to thank Margaret, who would then run to me and say, "They took my leaves, Mama!"
We are enjoying beaucoups of strawberries. Margaret could easily eat two or three pounds all by herself, and so could Clara.
Clara has taken to wearing ear bobs, my mother's clip-on ear rings. I have a few pair of them. The jewelry adds about ten years to Clara. Nope, it's going to be a few years before she's sporting that, believe me. But I detect the jewelry gene already. I think it's attached to the ham gene.

Patience is a virtue

We learned today that Athens Clarke County likes in line far more than online when it comes to registering for county recreation department programs. Clara and Margaret and I started standing in line at 9:15 this morning, and finally left at 2:45 p.m., having secured one of three summer classes we were interested in. They didn't get into a puppet making session at the art center, nor an animal-centered one. But we did make a gymnastics program that Margaret will enjoy far more than Clara, I believe. M isn't as coordinated as Clara, but she enjoys being upside down and bouncing and spinning around.
The girls were great while we were waiting. Not any whining or complaining. We did manage to go to the potty twice, traveling there by elevator and then returning by the coolest of all, an escalator. Both girls knew what an escalator is from the book Corduroy, but had never been on one until today. It was so exciting for both of them. Clara insisted I hold both their hands, which I was happy to do. And this particular escalator was really really long.
A couple of times today, as the line crawled along, Clara lost sight of me. She panics when that happens, whereas Margaret is happy just to find a new friend and be on her way. I am torn between making them paranoid and having them be too friendly. I don't want them to be afraid of people, but I do want them to be cautious. To speak to my friends and acquaintances, but no one else. I'm not sure how to do this. In familiar places, like Publix, they expect everyone they meet to be kind and friendly. For the most part, other customers and those who work there are kind and friendly. But I have read and written stories about children being snatched from grocery stores.
WWPD? What would Peg do?

Being a Mama

So there we are, me in the driver's seat, Clara and Margaret in their car seats. I am spaced out a bit, but alert enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. When they play, sometimes Margaret is "Mother," and Clara is "Baby."
This afternoon, Margaret says, "Baby, I really am your mama."
Clara: "Mother, you can't be my mama. Real mamas have big feet, and your feet are little. And real mamas sit in the driver's seat and drive. Look at you, you're in a car seat like me. Mama is the real mama."
I laughed and laughed. So, that's all one needs, big feet. They are fixated on my feet, and my shoes. No matter what kind I've been wearing, they pounce on them and clomp around. Luckily, none of the heels are too high.
Yesterday was one of the most difficult days I've had with Clara. I don't know what was going on with her. She gets so excited and/or angry and then lashes out, sometimes at Margaret, sometimes at me. They had been playing in the sprinkler in the front yard, spraying each other and screaming with delight. Yup, it was 88 degrees here on April 5th!) When they came in to get washed off--they had grass in their hair--Clara was miffed about having to stop spraying. After being rinsed off and toweled dry, she was pressed up against my thigh and I was drying her hair. She bit me in the leg, and it really hurt. To the uncooperative chair she went, with restrictions about playing with Harper, our lovely next-door neighbor. In the course of the evening, Clara also kicked and hit me when things didn't go her way.
She told me later that she does these things when she doesn't think. So I encouraged her to start thinking, or she will never see her friends again. It takes a lot of self control on my part not to hit her back when she hurts me, but you know what? I'm way bigger than Clara is, and I could really hurt her.
Whenever I put her in the uncooperative chair, Margaret starts calling, "Dee Facts! Dee Facts!" The Department of Family and Children's Services, or DFACS, takes children away from mean parents, they both know. So Margaret calls them to rescue Clara.
Where was DFACS on Sunday? We went to a church-sponsored egg hunt after church. Some well-intended parents had scattered about 400 eggs around a playground, without hiding them. These are little plastic eggs filled with candy or toys. We were the first to the playground, because the girls wanted to play, and had to wait about 20 minutes before things got underway. Other children and parents arrived and crowded on the stairway leading to the playground. We moved into the shade to wait and let the others go into the playground first. About a minute after the gate had opened, all the eggs were gone. Clara found one, Margaret found none, while some children walked away with thirty or forty eggs. One dad and his son were high-fiving. I didn't like this event; it wasn't a hunt, it was a free-for-all, competitive candy grab. I may stage an egg hunt at home myself next year and actually hide the eggs. That's what Clara and Margaret like, finding things.
Candy isn't the primary reward, discovery is. Besides, they know I'm going to dole out their candy. Because that's what big-footed mamas do.

Easter Egg Girls

Take my girls. Please

This morning, we spent an hour or so preparing to go to the library. Rather, the girls and Gene were headed to the library. To get books and draw with the computers and have fun, I hoped. As they were climbing into the car, Margaret started yelling for me to put her in her carseat...but I still had on my pj's and was barefooted. Gene said, "Well, if you don't want to go, just stay home," and I yelled, "No! No! and ran out into the driveway in my pj's and no shoes and put her in her carseat. Gene said, "Do you want to be like that woman? What are you doing?"
That woman was Mae Eggert, who jumped over her backyard fence buck naked one day while a group of kids was playing basketball in the adjacent yard. She was manic, jumping over and over this low fence, cackling. I don't want to end up like Mae. Which is why I wanted Gene to spend time, alone, with the girls this morning. I have to head to the store for some Easter basket goodies (I know, I'm late!) when they aren't around. Also need to pick up the house, wash some clothes and plan food for tomorrow.
Clara has taken to saying very snappy things. Like "What are you up to?" And "How's it going, Mama?" Gene and I were talking about how much fun it is to walk and think and Clara announced, "I never think when I walk." That struck us as funny. Margaret told me "I've told you a million times," about something or other. I understand more and more why Daddy made up words. That way no little ears every caught ugly words and repeated them.
Am off to the day's duties. Will report on Easter later. It's lovely outside here.