Nine Words Max

Some time ago I attended a book launch that reminded me why I love children’s books so much.

Growing up I was an avid reader but I had no access to a variety of children’s books other than the classic fairytales, which I read over and over. You can imagine my excitement with the selection of kids books that we can find nowadays, and don't get me started on the illustrators! In my scale of cool jobs an illustrator of children’s books has one of the coolest jobs, but that is a topic for another day.

Anyway, the book launch I attended to was Nine Words Max, written by Dan Bar-el and illustrated by David Huyck, Tundra Books 2014. 

This is the great story of Maximilian, a rather talkative little prince, who loves to share eve bit of information, every topic and every thought (I am sure we all know somebody like that). His three older brothers are quite the opposite, the less words the better. They seem to speak in 140 characters or less and be profoundly annoyed by their younger brother. So, when the queen and king went on vacation and left the princes at home, the three brothers decided to cast a spell on little Maximilian allowing him to speak only 9 words at a time; but suddenly they would realize the true value of their little brother’s words. And just like Maximilian would stop talking right at the 9th word, author Dan Bar-el abruptly stopped reading half way through the book, which I thought was brilliant.

How knitting keeps me (sort of) sane

I was unhappy and stressed-out. After a family loss and a big career change I was not at ease. Plus, like many moms, I was finding hard to juggle motherhood, house chores and a full-time job while trying to find time for myself. Knitting gave me the peace I was looking for – or at least part of it.

For as long as I can remember, I can picture both my grandmothers knitting. I didn't know my paternal grandma (Tita) much, as she died when I was young. But one of the most vivid memories I have of Tita is her knitting bag: it was gold and teal brocade with delicate light blue yarn inside. For some reason that yarn and that colour remained in my memory, and I associate that particular hue of blue with her. I call that colour "Tita blue".

As for my maternal grandma, she is still in our lives and up until her 90th birthday she knitted every day pretty much everything: from exquisite baby sweaters of fine pastel-coloured yarn, to bathroom mats made of colourful thick wool. She knitted for us, not only sweaters, but socks, blankets, ponchos and very uncomfortable underwear. Looking at her knitting – while chatting, watching TV and organizing grandpa's life –always seemed utterly peaceful.

I have always associated needlework with peacefulness. Yet, I have never been interested in actually knitting. Mainly for two reasons:

1) I used to wrongfully connect knitting to being old, thinking it’s for grandmas. I can assure you they didn't learn to knit on their 80th birthday, they've probably been knitters for most of their life.

2) I'm not very good at crafts, even when I want to learn every single craft there is – from embossing to macramé – every time I go to a Michel's store.

But when a group of colleagues (yes, all under 70) created The Knitting Club as a part of a wellbeing program, I decided to give it a try. I was spending most of my lunch hour staring at my iPhone browsing through junk in social media and I thought knitting could be good for a change and a nice way to de-stress.

Before this I had tried a few things to alleviate stress, including meditation, but – while I consider it a very respectable discipline – it's not my cup of tea. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that the very first time I tried meditation it was in my boss' office. Being barefoot and with my eyes closed in front of superiors and colleagues made me feel a bit awkward! As one of my colleagues put it: "It was like having sex with someone for the first time, I kept thinking, am I breathing too loud? Do my feet smell?" There is no way one can learn to relax like that!

So, I went to the first knitting meeting. I have never felt so stupid in my life! It was supposed to be an all-levels group, yet I was the only one who had no idea what they meant by purl or cast-on and some of the participants were actually wearing their creations! They kindly offered to teach me but I was looking at the needles as if they were heavy machinery. After 45 minutes, this is what I was able to accomplish:

It was so stressful that I almost quit, but I didn't. Later on that afternoon, back at home, I looked up knitting tutorials on YouTube and hit replay and pause until I figured it out.

I'm no Martha Stewart, and I doubt I’ll ever be as good as my grandma, but now I'm down to 3 scarves and I have started knitting a blanket. My kids proudly wear their colourful scarves and I think it's good for them seeing me peacefully knitting next to them rather than exhausted looking compulsively at my iPhone.

I still stress over a myriad of things, that is just who I am, but knitting relaxes me and takes me away. I whisper, "one knit, one purl, one knit, one purl" like a mantra and suddenly I'm at ease. I'm sure it did the same for my grandmas, knitting took them thought births and deaths, joy and sorrow, one knit and one purl at a time.

Theodore & David

What did you have for snack today, David?

Cucumbers and a cookie

I had a cookie too, but it was yucky. It was stale.

Mom, did you pick it up from the floor?

Theodore & David

"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer has a very shiny nose..."

"All of the other reindeer’s used to laugh and call him names and copied him and called him popo head and didn't share their toys with him..."

Theodore & David

“Mom, can you tell me a story about the king who 

wouldn't pick up his toys?”

“But, kings don't have toys. The king is a grown man 

and grown men don’t have toys”

“Yes they do! Dad has an iPhone!”

Flora and the Flamingo by Molly Idle

It took me so long to write the review of Flora and the Flamingo, that the author and illustrator Molly Idle has already launched the sequel Flora and the Penguin last week, but that is ok, because these are the kind of books that become all-time favourites and are worth reviewing just anytime. 

Flora and the Flamingo is among some of the most beautifully illustrated children’s books I have seen. I have a special place in my bookshelf for books like this one, the “yes, you can read mommy’s book but wash your hands first” collection.

Published in 2013 and winer of the Caldecott Honor Award, Flora and the Flamingo is a wordless book, yet words are no needed, the images are enough to take us graciously through a story of partnership.

The small details are what make Flora so endearing: her swimming cap, her chubby tights and her clumsiness make us fall in love with her. In my opinion, here is where Idle’s talent resides, in communicating so much with so little. We don't need words to perceive Flora’s feelings and the dynamics of her relationship with the flamingo – their synchronized movements and their expressions are enough.

And the pink! Oh, the pink!

© Molly Idle. Photographs by Chronicle Books

Theodore mentioned that he was the only boy that liked Princess Leia, he stressed he is not talking about the adults, (gold bikini anyone?) but just the boys in his classroom.

- "What do you like about her?"- I asked, hoping he would say that she is a smart, independent, brave, strong woman.

- "Her hairstyle" - he said

Seriously?

Theodore & David

"Mom, what does war mean?"

"Hmm war is when some countries fight"

"Countries fight?"

"Well...yes"

"I bet those countries don't have a mom"

Theodore & David

"David, do you want me to read you the story of how babies are made?"

"Is it a funny one?"

"Yay! Theodore can read now"

Nasreddine, a children’s picture book with a side dish for mom

Nasreddine, is the endearing story about a young boy and his father Mustafa. A tale about wisdom and authenticity, not only beautifully written by Odile Weulersse but illustrated by – a personal favourite – Rébecca Dautremer. Dautremer’s artwork is so powerful yet full of delicate details, like scribbles and graffiti on the town’s walls.

As explained by a historical note at the end of the book, stories about Nasreddine are said to be based on a man who lived in Turkey during the Middle Ages and, while the age of the character changes from one story to another, it is always a reflection on wisdom and delight.

In this particular story, Nasreddine and Mustafa head to the market to sell their goods, the father rides on the donkey’s back and the boy walks behind. Before long, onlookers criticize the father because he is riding comfortably while the kid goes on foot. Embarrassed, the next time they go to the market, the son tricks the father into letting him ride the donkey, Mustafa patiently agrees and walks behind; yet people whisper as they pass by "look how the world works these days, the children ride and their elders walk behind. Fathers don't have authority after all”.

The story repeats itself, and no matter how they do it (dad rides, boy rides, nobody rides the donkey, they both ride the donkey) there is always someone judging them. Mustafa is always serene, the little one always ashamed; until the boy – in a desperate attempt to stop being laughed at – comes up with an idea that is just plain ridiculous and then the father shares his pearls of wisdom: “People can always find a reason to criticize you if they want to. It is up to you to decide if what you are hearing is wise, or if it it's only a silly and hurtful remark”.

You see, this is where I think there are books written for kids but with the hope that the message also comforts the mother that is reading it. And I say moms not as a sexist remark but because we, moms, tend to obsess more about what people think of our parenting skills but if the shoe fits to any dads out there too, by all means feel free to join me.

Being a parent is not always easy, it is hard enough without having to listen to relatives, friends and yes, nosy strangers, and their opinions on what we should or shouldn't do. So, next time somebody disapproves of how you raise your kids, answer calmly in the words of wise Mustafa: “Your words, kind sir, are hurting my ears” or just tell them to f**k off.

Theodore & David

"Mom! can you carry me?"

"No, David you are too heavy for me now"

"Ok then, I will remove my hat"

Taking the kids to the park is an extreme sport:

Theodore fell down scraping his knee. To confort him, I put down my iced coffee and David drank it. As it was too bitter for his taste, he decided to eat dirt to overcome the flavour. “Yummy” he said and then proceed to eat a pebble and chew on a stick, which, luckily he did not find tasty. Two minutes latter, Theodore fell again now hurting his forehead and elbow. As I grabbed my kids to leave, my bra snapped.

Fortunately, we are now safe and sound in front of the TV.

Hands up!

My family – like many others in Canada – has a "no toy guns policy”. I don't buy my kids plastic guns, not even water guns. I guess, like many other parents, I have the  irrational fear that my kids will grow up to be violent adults if they play with guns; or maybe we just find plain disturbing seeing our little angels pretending to fire an arm. I admit it, it freaks me out.

Yesterday we were at a water park and some kids were playing with water guns. It didn't take long for my 7 year old to get acquainted with them, and before I knew it he had a water machine gun in his hands and was having the time of his life chasing the other kids. My inner over-neurotic-mom self was freaking out "he is playing with guns!" like if that isolated action would eradicate all the good things in him. The kids were having a blast and, to be honest, I don't think any of those kids would grow up to become a mass murderer. Sure, they'd probably torture their younger siblings and might break some girl’s heart, but other than that I believe those boys will grow up to become decent human beings, regardless of what they play with.

The truth is, we overthink things.

     Are they watching too much tv? Should I add tofu and kale to their diet? Is that BPA-free, gluten-free, child proof? None if this existed 30 years ago and we turned out fine. Our parents did not play video games yet they played with little green soldiers all the time and they turned out fine. ADHD, GMO, SPD, WTF?

Phew! This is exhausting.

Sometimes is best just to stop worrying about everything (good luck with that), and let them be kids. Our job is not to hide all the toy guns in the world (there will always be a stick or their thumb and index fingers) or to keep our children in  a bubble. Our job is to teach them about love and respect and once in a while turn the other way, just let them play with water guns on a sunny August afternoon.

Lemonade Stand - Day 2

 "Sir, do you want to buy some lemonade?"

"I would love to, but I don't have any cash with me"

"Just GO!"

"Sorry! he is still working on his customer service skills"

Theodore & David

"Somebody at work was mean to me"

"Did she call you poop head?"

"Hmm...no"

"Did she call you bum bum head"?

"Hmm...nope"

"Then you can still be her friend, mom"