Tactile Learning Experiences vs. Good, Calm Parenting

I wrote this two weeks ago and never found the picture I took of the "Play Tray" mentioned below. Oh well.

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First of all, don't tell Brian that I'm typing this on his new laptop while sitting at the table with a preschooler who is stuffing his face with Arthur-shaped pasta covered in cheese and previously-frozen mixed vegetables. Additionally, I'm drinking coffee filled with "Limited Edition Pralines and Cream" creamer. And it's not lowfat. We'll attend to that last part later.

As everyone knows, this is the time of year when I run around trying to find just the right bow for just the right handmade, fair-trade gift wrapped in paper made from recycled guava skins and wondering why I can't just go to Target like most people and buy gifts accompanied by a nice little box with tape, ribbons, tissue paper, boxes, and wrapping all in one place. I make all of this harder on myself on purpose, because it allows me to avoid having to double up on my meds after the semester is done. I get really bored and crazy playing trucks. I'm trying to broaden my horizons and help him learn how to play other kinds of games with me ... like "let's go ahead and get all of our holiday baking done today" or "here -- you throw socks at the ceiling fan while I fold the clothes."

And then I saw this lovely idea on my friend Mamabird's blog! It's called a "PlayTray" and I'm sure that it's a great way to enhance some form of tactile learning or something. But in my house, it ends up being fodder for a "Parents are Made (through trial by fire) not Born" video, which might could (yes, I use two modals together sometimes) double as a commercial for why you need easy access to efficient, allergen-reducing household items such as a broom, a dustsucker, and a wet mop. Or maybe just a self-cleaning kitchen.



After 10 minutes with the PlayTray, there was cornmeal and multicolored sprinkles in the crevices of the wood floor, red hots EVERYWHERE, and a pool on the floor where there used to be a semi-red-headed mother. Ash, maybe I misunderstood the concept of a playtray, but I nearly had to take my dental valium early (I'm supposed to go back in the morning, so they gave me a couple extra tablets for tomorrow). It was like I was trying to do this fun, educational activity, and all of a sudden the whole kitchen was dirty and JEB was crying because he couldn't get his red hot/cornmeal mixture back into the plastic container so that he could put it in his "purse" that a friend just brought back as a souvenir from Jerusalem. I know that it is not appropriate to let him put red hots and cornmeal into Holy Land Treasures, but I also know that if you have ever tried to cook a low-fat delicious meal with a three-year old underfoot, then you (and Jesus) will understand, and that all will be forgiven.

It remains to be seen, however, whether or not I can forgive myself for the Full Time Working Mother Diet I've been on lately. I've already reached half of my 9-months pregnant weight gain. Yes, you read that correctly. I see a New Year's resolution opportunity!

Merry.