10 Times The Rainy Day Toddler Fun

Make Playdough!

playdough photo credit
It's completely easy to make. You do need to use boiling water, but kids can help with all the rest and they can help knead it all together when the dough has cooled enough to touch. Here's a recipe:

1 1/2 cups salt
3 cups flour
6 tbsp cream of tartar
3 cups boiling water
3 tbsp cooking oil
food colouring

Mix all ingredients together. Store in a plastic bag or airtight container. Makes approximately 1.5kg.

You can add glitter for sparkle, or even powdered cordial in place of the food colouring to create different colours and smells (though it's still going to taste disgusting if it gets in their mouth).



Play with the playdough you just made.

'Cause let's face it, everyone loves playing with the dough. For the littlest fingers, it's sensory fun, cause and effect and learning motor skills. Older kids, (and me) learn to think spatially, plan their creations, stretch their imagination and strengthen their concentration. Who could ask for more?

Well, since you do ask for more (because I assume you're a smart-a*se like me) they also learn through role-play (think pretending to be a baker), about shapes and which ones are stronger, physics - how to strengthen their structures, and about art.

Playdough is epic.



Build a fort

fort photo credit
A classic activity for all kiddos, but most of the time we forget, being the adults that we are! Forts are awesome fun to make up, and knock down and make up and knock down, pretending to make a house of cards out of the cushions and using them as gymnastics mats. And then when you have the fort perfect, it's time to clamber inside with a book and torch or some picnic food. Stories and eating are what people do every day, but they're made just that bit more special and memorable in a different place.



Feed the ducks and jump in puddles

duck photo credit
Really, there's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes for the weather. Kit out in raincoat, umbrella and boots and find some ducks to feed. You'll probably be the only ones there, and ducks, funnily enough, think it's great weather!

While you're at it, jump in some puddles. Hunt for and count all the worms that have emerged onto the paths. Shake droplets out of tree-branches onto each other's umbrellas. Pick flowers. The outdoors in the rain is just as much opportunity as it is obstacle.



Take pictures!

take pictures photo credit
Get your digital camera or cellphone out and take photos together. Look at them and talk about them. Pull funny faces at the camera, dangle from the sofa, sing songs and let your little ones video you. Play it back for them. Play it again the next rainy day, and the next! Let them initiate how to take the pictures. Let them push the buttons. Keep the best pictures as a screen saver for your computer.



Chase raindrops

raindrops photo credit
Have raindrop races down window panes. It's not an activity that will keep kids occupied for hours, or even more than a minute or two, but it's something everyone should do and a memory every kid should have.

It's something they can look back on fondly during rainy days of their own, and repeat. A feeling of warmth that might hit them twenty years from now, stuck in traffic in the pouring rain. It's one of the little things in life.



Dance!

dancing photo credit
Dance! Use up some of that wiggle that's driving you mad. If it's the middle of the year, then break out the Christmas tunes for something different and to jog everyone's memory back to awesome fun times. Play something bouncy and jiggly. Something that kids can remember and scream the words to. Join in! Try to dance just as crazy and sing just as loudly as they are. A favourite song at our place for this, is Snoopy's Christmas!



Blow bubbles inside.

bubbles photo credit
Blowing bubbles isn't just for sunny days. It's for days in the kitchen when you're going to mop the floor anyway! And you get to pop far more bubbles when the wind doesn't carry them away anyway. Probably best done after you've made and eaten your pizza!



Make pizza together, then eat it.

pizza photo credit
Pizza dough is almost as simple as playdough to make, and while it's rising you can be chopping up the toppings ready for everyone to create their own masterpieces.

Dough Recipe:
1 packet of the instant yeast and 1 teaspoon of sugar, dissolved in 1 cup of warm water
Add it to 2.5 cups of plain flour and 2 tbls of your oil of preference.
Knead, cover and leave to rise.
When about double in size, shape into one big or several little pizzas and add toppings.
Bake in a medium oven for about 15 mins.

Easy peasy!



Let the kids decide and play along

Children need the opportunity to make decisions of their own. Maybe they have a favourite game they want to revisit, or perhaps they want to invent something completely new? Chances are they remember something they did while away from you that they might want to show you but don't yet have the words for. Allow them to direct their own play. They're the experts at it.

Play along. Enjoy the ride. It's OK for adults to be kids too, now and then.



When I was thinking these up, I remembered I haven't done some of them in a very long time, and it's time I stepped up and remembered how to be a kid again. They're the ones who know how to be free and unselfconscious. They get the job done.

Got any ideas you'd like to add? I want to hear them!



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So You Think Your Child Is A Nazi...

Nobody wins a war.

Yes there'll be one side who will be stronger eventually, and they can dominate, take over, enforce their will on the other side, but no one actually wins. There will be casualties on both sides.

The "winners" of a war will be the ones with the most training. Those who have been taught - had it beaten into them - how to look past the humanity of their opposition. How to ignore the suffering of their foes, or to pretend it doesn't exist at all.

In a war, you have to switch off your empathic function or you're no good. It's pointless being there if you can feel the affect you have on each and every participant you have interactions with. You could start caring that your opponent is so terrified from your last encounter that they just buckle and plead, follow your instruction and apologise for being who they were born to be. You could start caring, and then how could you finish them off? How could you win? No. In a war, you must turn off your empathic function.

In a war, you must follow orders. This is drilled into you by people with more power than you, before you even get near a battle. You learn from their example, and if you do not, you'll need more drilling until you do. There is no place on a battlefield for someone who thinks for themselves. You'll have been given your tactics for winning long ago, by those who were better at it than you, and you must know them so well that it's automatic. There will be no time to stop and think. You must turn off your creativity. You must fight your innate impulses until you have replaced them with the impulses of your superiors.

In a war, you must fight through pain. You will be damaged, that is guaranteed, so you must have the will of mind to ignore your own pain. If you take care of your own hurts, that's a weakness. A weakness in yourself and in your battalion. Your comrades require you for their own safety and you do them for yours, so if you fall back, you could be the weakest link in the chain and cause defeat. If you're fighting alone, to consider your own pain, to break, means certain death, assuming your opponent has also been well trained, and turned off their empathy.

So, to win a war, we must turn off our empathic mind, our rational and intuitive minds, our sensate function and our free will.

Once a person is trained in warfare, it's very hard to go back to being untrained. A lot of times it won't happen and the returned soldier will never regain the connection they had with loved ones. They'll spend their time yearning to be in their comfort zone - the place they were trained to be. They'll feel angry and betrayed by those they came home to, who are scared and confused by the soldier's lack of empathy and love and understanding. Their loved ones will do as the returned soldier wills, and call it respect, and convince themselves it's respect, but it will really be fear. Loved ones will understand the battles were fought on their behalf, whether they asked for or wanted it or not and will feel compelled into gratitude.

But in the end, fear, disguised as respect, and gratitude, aren't fertile soils in which to grow love. In the end, we're often left with a lonely soldier at the Veteran's Association, surrounding himself with the only people who can identify with how he thinks. A lonely soldier who goes to visit a different family member each Christmas - passed around like dishes duty.

I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary; the evil it does is permanent.

Nobody wins a war.

And when you see your home as a war zone, the same things happen.

When you fight battles with your partner or your children, you are turning off your empathic mind, your rational and intuitive mind, your sensate function and your free will. It must be done to win the battle.

Your children, buckled and pleading, follow your instruction out of fear and apologise for being who they were born to be. You call it respect, and so will they and they'll forever confuse the two. They'll love you through duty, and because they see the sacrifice you have made on their behalf whether they asked for or wanted it or not and will feel compelled into gratitude.

I want freedom for the full expression of my personality.

But they're not fertile soils in which to grow real love. They'll grow up and move away, half way across the world, and you'll lose regular contact. And they'll fight their own wars at home as they've been taught to do. They've been trained for years, and now they know how to win with their own innocent offspring and spouse. They'll know to turn off their empathy to win. They'll flip into irrational rages against your grandchildren and they won't know why. They'll blame the kids, for being who they were born to be. Maybe later they'll feel guilty. Maybe not.

If not, the cycle continues with their grandchildren... But maybe they want for their children the freedom for the full expression of their personalities. And that can never be achieved through violence, only love, genuine respect, peaceful resistance and teaching through role modeling.

Freedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes.

We are going to make mistakes. Our spouses are going to make mistakes. Our children are going to make mistakes. Our parents are going to make mistakes.

Imagine living in fear of making a mistake. Trying something new would be terrifying. You'd hide away so no one would know. You wouldn't be able to share your ideas or get excited about them for fear you would fail. Life would get procrastinated away as you dissociate away your anxiety and you'd live in Dr Seuss's "Waiting Place" where most people stay.

I am not at war with my family. Not any more. There have been times I thought I was. And there've been times, because of the way I have trained them, that I'm incited into battles and I feel like I must fight. Be violent. There are times when I've made mistakes, and though I resolve not to, maybe I'll make them again. I hope not. I hope I always have the strength to peacefully resist the battle-cries of others. I resolve to model peace, not violence, at all costs.

I never want to give up my capacity for empathy. I want to keep my intuition and my rationality. I want to remain self aware: to know how I got that bruise and to listen to what my body is trying to tell me when I have that headache or I can't sleep.

I will remain whole.

You must be the change you want to see in the world.

Please take the time to share this post with those you care about. The less people there are at war at home, the more whole, free, loving and happy people there will be in the world. Be the change.

Thank you.

The quotes are Mahatma Gandhi's

Image credit: Wikipedia

A Fishy Toothbrush Update

I had this toothbrush a few days ago, that tasted a little fishy and since yesterday was shopping day, I bought myself another.

I'd been making do with mouthwash and floss, so was looking forward to a nice, fresh, new, clean, non-fishy toothbrush.

Something you don't know about me, is that I have this weird aversion to putting things in my mouth that don't belong. By "don't belong" I mean not meant for human consumption. Toothbrushes are included in that. I push through it and brush my own teeth, sure, but the sound of anyone else brushing their teeth actually makes me violently dry-retch.

Seeing anyone else put anything in their mouth that doesn't belong makes me violently dry-retch. I'm that sap who sees toddlers (including my own) mouthing things and calls for help while gagging and running away. I'd be no good in an emergency - it really is that bad!

I also can't put anything in my mouth that has been in another person's mouth. Yes, this includes having a bite of someone's sandwich. It has to be from the uneaten end. And it includes drinking out of a drink bottle someone else has used. If my toothbrush is wet when I pick it up, just the thought of what may have happened can make me gag.

With that in mind, you can likely understand why someone messing with my toothbrush is worse than you may have first thought.

So anyhow, yesterday I bought my new toothbrush. I considered buying two, nearly did, then decided I was being foolish. Toothbrush interference isn't a common occurrence in my house. Nor should it be.

I chose a colour I liked that was different to the other four in the house, and brought it home with the rest of my groceries. So far so good.

We had done the shopping late in the afternoon, so the grocery bags got dumped on the table with only the things that needed refrigeration being put away immediately. I started getting dinner ready with the knowledge the rest would be put away soon enough. And while I was cooking, I was distracted from what was happening over at the table.

Never trust a two-year-old, is all I can say.

Ten minutes later he wandered into the kitchen, looked at me all adorable-like and said: "Kiss my minty, Mum." Which, of course, is a direct translation of: "I just brushed my teeth; now I want a kiss." So I did (who wouldn't?). But I am, now, a more suspicious person. I knew he had been fossicking in the groceries earlier on.

"Which toothbrush did you use, sweetheart?" I asked nervously.

And he looked at me. And he giggled. And he giggled some more. And then he showed me...

So, today, I need a new toothbrush...



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Smells Minty... But Tastes A Little Fishy!

We're not opposed to a little practical joking in our house.

Innocent jokes, of course; ones that don't cause humiliation or harm or fear.

And the one who gets away with the majority of them hasn't yet turned three years old! It's hard to practical joke a two-year-old in return without feeling mean and more than a little over the top.

Yesterday, he got me good.

Every morning after breakfast, I take a couple of fish oil capsules (jus' makin' sure I get me my omegas; wouldn't want to run out of brain function). A couple of times, Mister-Almost-Three has asked for one too. I know what he's going to do: bite it, get a mouthful of cod liver oil, announce how putrid the stuff is (in his own special way) and spit it all into the rubbish. And so I allow it. Fun times.

And that's what happened yesterday morning.

Only, first he spat the capsule into his hand, and got oil all over it, before depositing the casing into the rubbish bin. He then enticed me to smell his oily hand, which was indeed as putrid as he made it out to be. I suggested it'd be a grand idea to wash his hands, and off he went to the bathroom, without hesitation.

That should have been my first clue.

What should have been my second clue, was that he came back five minutes later with still incredibly oily hands, that didn't appear to have seen any soap at all.
So I helped him - as you do.

The day meandered on uneventfully, eventually darkening into night and I thought no more about it, except to tell Mr. Me, in passing, why there might be some residual fishy odour wafting from our youngest offspring.

Eventually, everyone went to bed, and I, being the last one up as usual, shut up shop and mindlessly performed my bedtime routines.

Innocent, I was.

Toothpaste has a strong smell. Apparently it's smell is stronger than its taste, because I couldn't smell anything amiss as I lifted the paste-laden brush to my mouth.

Boy, did I taste it!

I garbled a foamy, fish flavoured oath, and heard giggling from my bedroom.

I peered in at two delighted faces. "He said he made it yucky," grinned Mr. Me.

And the little one said: "You just shh," his little fingers held up to his lips. "I'll fix it later."

Except now I'm scared more than ever!



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Incubating a Tantrum

Yeah.

That's what I'm doing right now.

I know it's not exactly healthy, physically or mentally, but it's satisfying the twisted, sadistic, brutal, raging Devil-On-My-Left-Shoulder. Bastard that it is.

Feels good and awful all at the same time. I'm sitting on Pandora's Box here and guarding it something fierce for the good of the world. Yet also to the detriment of society too, because let's face it, she's gonna blow. And it ain't gonna be pretty when it happens.

So I've tied Pandora's Box shut with chains and straps and I'm sitting on it with my legs crossed (which, by the way, is rather uncomfortable; particularly the chains bit) trying to save the world. And the more I try to keep the box shut, the more I am haunted by a certain knowledge.

I know something Pandora didn't.

Stands to reason, since she was the first one with The Box.

I know, that in amongst all the sh*t that's dying to get out, there's a whimpery little being, laying on the bottom, waiting for the pressure to ease.

And that's the little blighter I want to get my hands on!

HOPE.

I'm scared to let the nasty stuff go, because basically I know that no one around me has done any wrong and they don't deserve it. But if I don't let go of the nasty stuff, not only will I miss out on hopeful, therefore also curious and optimistic, me, so will everyone else!

And we can't let that happen, now can we?

It's a scary thought... I'll try to let the demons loose responsibly.

Good luck World!




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Shower Paranoia

I don't know who to credit for this picture; it's floating around facebook. I didn't make it, but I love it!

I love how apparently not alone I am.

Because preschool kids have ESP, don't they? They can be in the deepest stage of the deepest sleep, but the second your toe hits the bathwater, they're on full alert.

I recall doing it myself to a point. In the car, I could sleep through the majority of a road trip and magically open my eyes and be wide awake just as we were pulling into the destination. I still don't know how I did it; it's not as if we weren't turning sharp corners or coming to a stop at other points in the journey.

Now that I'm not a preschooler, I've lost the skill.

Now that my older two kids have reached double digited age, they have lost the skill of desperately needing my attention the second I think I have a safe moment to shower or visit the loo.

The preschooler I do have, only has that skill when it involves his Daddy. I'm off the hook there! (Be grateful you can't see the sly happy-dance.)

Nope, I'm sweet as. I can shower without hearing a child crying - almost any time I like! Unless you count the imaginary crying. The ghosts of ESP past. The post traumatic stress of about seven years of constant interruption. Of dripping down the hallway with a headful of apple-scented lather. Of sometimes keeping that headful of apple-scented lather for an hour and a half, before wading back through the lake of now cold water on the bathroom floor, because I didn't take the time to dry off before stepping out.

I expect to hear crying.

It confuses me when I don't.

So my brain invents it for me.

Either that, or some sneaky cat with ESP is wailing outside the bathroom window just to mess with me.

In any case, I'm not alone. At least one person was afflicted enough to make the picture. Hundreds of other people could identify with it enough that they shared it!

And now, I suddenly feel very normal.



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The Procrastinator's Curse.

I am here because I'm procrastinating. Which is a little bit funny because I'm usually not here because I'm procrastinating.

But there are only so many ways you can procrastinate before you start doing things you mean to in preference to things you meant to do before the things you're doing now.

And so it is.

My procrastination channel of choice is most often the computer. I can find all sorts of rubbish on here that I can kid myself is good entertainment. Hitting the global leader board on a word finder game on Facebook though... That was a new low. I don't think the Facebook procrastination option is open to me any more. Feels bad, man. Real bad. I did it without cheating, and I ALWAYS thought those leaders must have cheated.

Sigh.

There was a time when I procrasti-cleaned and procrasti-baked. That lost its appeal when I no longer had essays to write for uni, but it was good while it lasted. Nothing was more important than a few smudges on the windows when there was an essay due the next morning! I wish nothing was more important than the bathroom mirror right now, but alas...

Wait...



...



...



Apparently nothing was more important than the bathroom mirror. I'm completely serious! Who knew?

Then nothing was more important than snuggling the toddler back to sleep, then cleaning the rest of the bathroom, a cup of coffee and putting on a load of washing. And now that the load of washing has finished and is waiting for me to hang out, there's nothing more important than finishing this post.

See how that works?

The chain of procrastination is a beautiful thing. Or it would be if I wasn't putting off other awesomely fun and inspiring activities. Such as playing phone-tag with government agencies so that I can, in turn, procrastinate over filing overdue tax returns. Yeah, that's fun (and important, hence the procrastination).

Over the years, I've tried to come up with ways to stop my procrastination. To be the organised ... what's a word that means the opposite of addle-brained? ... y'know, one of them people what we all wanna be like, anyway. Except that I'm scared of lists and diaries. I always feel like a complete failure when I, well, fail to adhere to them. The inner critic gets up on her high horse and does her best impression of Gunnery Sergeant Hartman. Nobody's winning that war.

So I have to find another way of overcoming it.

I'm trying something new.

I hereby give myself permission to not do stuff.

Not all stuff, because some things are necessary for survival, so I'm keeping the "need to" things. But "should do" and "must do" are now hereby replaced with "could do" and "might do". Then for good measure, I'm adding a "because" after them too. A positive "because". As opposed to a negative "or else".

Because:

I might go to the gym because I'll feel much better about myself afterwards.

Feels much nicer and more inviting than:

I must go to the gym or else I won't get any fitter.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman can bugger off; I want to give the curious and enthusiastic side of me a chance to do its thing.

Because I think that's where happiness lives.



Do you have an awesome way of overcoming procrastination that I (or someone else) can tuck away for future reference?




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