Let's Talk Toys...

My husband and I went Christmas shopping for L last night. This was a bigger challenge than it sounds.

A little background: I was raised with a "less is more" approach to gift-giving. My husband was not. You've heard the phrase, "can't see the forest for the trees"? In his house it was more like, "can't see the tree for the presents."

There has been much debate between us as to how to strike a balance between buying L the bare minimum and spoiling the kid rotten. So far we're doing alright, but he's only one, so we don't have a whole lot of Christmases and birthdays under our belts. He just had his birthday at the end of October, so we're coming out of a "new toys" phase as it is. I've already spent a couple of hours rearranging toys, putting away old toys, and finding places for the new toys. I'm not necessarily ready to do it all over again, but December 25 is on its way and I don't think it cares whether I'm ready or not.

Montessori philosophy leans towards the "less is more" state of mind. In the classroom there is generally one of everything. If a child wants to work with a material, he has to wait his turn. He learns patience. If a child uses a material inappropriately and it breaks, the work is taken off the shelf. He learns responsibility. Montessori teachers take a great deal of pride in their classrooms. We make a lot of our own materials, we use real, natural items whenever possible (think wood or glass instead of plastic, breakable instead of indestructible, long-lasting instead of temporary), and we are very particular about what will and will not make the cut when it comes to putting materials out on the shelves. We understand that children deserve quality materials and that cheap usually comes with a price. The cost of replacing something three times after it keeps breaking is not worth the low price tag and well-made materials will last for years (and many, many children), if treated right.

The bottom line is: I can't afford to buy my son all the wonderful, handmade, all natural, organic quality toys that he deserves. Can't afford it and don't have the space for it. How do we choose quality toys and gifts when the cheap crap is so readily available, and, let's face it, so cheap? So how am I supposed to blend these ideas together? How do we choose quality over quantity when it comes to gift giving / precedent setting / tradition starting? Where do we start?

We started with an easel. A good quality, well-built, comes-with-extra-storage easel. It's a gift that will last for years and (I hope) encourage L to express himself creatively in many different ways. In the me v. my husband battle for Christmas (I jest... almost), the easel was a win for me. Not that he objected, not in the slightest. But, if I'd suggest we buy L an assortment of Tron action figures, he'd have been delighted and seven shades of thrilled.

Moving on...

We started with an easel and added a keyboard. The real kind. With buttons for the samba, the rhumba, and a salsa beat. Or something like that. L loves making music with his shakers, tambourine, jingle bells, etc., so we figured, let's get him a keyboard that actually sounds like music instead of a junky, tinny-sounding "piano" with some ridiculous cartoon characters printed all over it. Real items, remember? Real stuff instead of the fake stuff. Here's the kicker... it's a "cheap" keyboard. Twenty bucks or something like that. Yes, I want it to be real, but I'm not a moron - the kid's one year old. He as likely to try and eat the thing as he is to play it, so we'll save the quality keyboard for later on down the line when his true musical genius is discovered and we feel the need to feed his creative abilities.

So we started with an easel, added a keyboard, and went from there. A couple of puzzles, some new bathtub toys, a car that turns around when it bumps into stuff (remember the me v. hubby debate? That one was for him), one of those Fisher Price classic rotary phones, and a Woody doll from Toy Story (my suggestion, actually - didn't even know I had it in me!). Throw in one of those "microphones" that is really just an echo chamber to encourage kids to be loud and that about does it. I was actually kind of proud of that last one. It's a three dollar piece of junk, but we bought it anyway. The boy loves to make noise... nothing wrong with that.

All in all, I'm happy with the line we negotiated. It feels like a good blend between the Montessori ideal the real world: some good stuff, some cheap stuff, and only one movie-themed toy. No telling what Santa will bring, though. I don't know how much he knows about the Montessori philosophy.

What's with the title?

"Montessori and My Practical Life"? What's that mean anyway? It's kind of a play on words. You see, the Montessori classroom is divided into several curriculum areas: math, language, science, geography, art, sensorial (more on that later), and practical life. The activities that are available in the practical life area are designed to assist children in honing the skills that they need to gain independence in their daily activities. These skills are practical in nature (using tools like spoons, pitchers, and tongs) and are familiar activities that they see demonstrated by the adults in their day to day life (dish washing, sweeping, and setting a table). Hence the name "practical life." By practicing skills like pouring, scrubbing, and even using buttons and zippers with child-sized items in an environment that is designed with his needs in mind, the child develops confidence in his abilities and is able to translate his learned skill to the real world. In the case of most young children, the "real world" means home. They want to help, they want to "do it myself," and they want to show their mom and dad how big they are by showing how much they can do. Only, here's where we run into some stumbling blocks.

How many people baby proof the house when their little one starts to crawl and then forget to un-proof the house as their child gets older? Cabinets remain locked, breakables remain out of reach, the kitchen is still off-limits, and the easiest way to "keep the kids out of our hair" is to turn on the t.v. or drown them in toys. It's so easy to let time get away from you and to forget that children are constantly changing, growing, and developing in more ways than one. In the blink of an eye, the one year old that you baby proofed the house for will be a three year old who wants to help in the kitchen. It makes perfect sense (at least it does to us Montessorians) that rather than fortify the house against our young children, we will make accommodations that work with them and their growing and changing needs. Making your home accessible to your child at even the youngest age shows respect for your child as a member of your family and as an individual with wants and needs that are just as important as your own. Think low hooks for coats and hats, a low bar in the closet for hanging clothes, a step stool in the bathroom or a mirror hung down at their height and you've got the right idea.

When our son started walking at ten and a half months we were faced with the question of how much we were going to baby proof and how much we could accommodate his changing needs. It's not a question of wanting to make it work. I definitely want this to work, it's a matter of doing what is practical, both for our house (we live in an average-sized townhouse - space is not abundant) and our lives (I work full-time, my husband stays home with our son. So although I have all the bright ideas, he's the one who has to follow through with most of them). So there you have it: Montessori and My Practical Life. It's a constant work in progress.

And a sleep update from last night's post: he's in the pack 'n play again tonight. He was this close to falling asleep on his floor bed when he popped up, climbed off the bed and started playing with the cordless blinds. Sigh... try again tomorrow, right?

I suddenly have a toddler!

I blinked and my newborn turned one. How did that happen? How did I get to the point where I'm putting up hooks for his little jacket (way down low where he can reach) and watching him put his dirty laundry into the hamper all on his own? How is it that he is opening drawers and cabinets while I question the practicality of child-proof locks and corner bumpers? I have baby gates around the stairs and sippy cups in the cupboard. Neither is particularly "Montessori," but I'm finding that I have to wrestle with what I've learned on paper with what I'm learning in real life. On paper, the Montessori method is a clear cut way to encourage independence within limits - a way to allow children to develop into their true selves with loving guidance, clear boundaries, and careful observation. In reality, sippy cups are easy, high chairs are practical, and a firm 'no' doesn't always cut it.

So here I am: stuck in the middle between what is real and what could be.

Case in point: the Montessori floor bed. A low bed that allows a child freedom of movement and independence within his room. When we were planning our son's arrival this was non-debatable. We were not buying a crib. No, sir. Not in this house. My dad built the bed frame, we carefully checked the room for safety, and imagined how sweet it would be when our son was crawling around and would be able to get into his bed and go to sleep without the confinement of crib bars. So perfect in our dream world.

And then we had the baby.

He spent the first two months in our room sleeping in a portable crib. Well... that's not entirely true. He spent the first three weeks sleeping in someone's arms (we couldn't put him down for more than 10 minutes without him screaming his little heart out), and then five weeks sleeping in the portable crib. When we moved him to his room it took a little while to transition him from the crib to his floor bed, but we finally did and he hated it. He's never been a good sleeper, he's just over a year old as I write this and he still wakes up at least twice a night, but I kept expecting it to work. I wanted him to wake up one night and in his own baby way of understanding think, "Ah... I'm on a floor bed. I guess my parents really want me to develop independence and the ability to make my own choices! Thanks Mom and Dad!" But that's not what happened.

Instead, he cried and cried and cried. The only way we could get him to sleep was to swaddle him. Despite my best efforts to break him of the "swaddle habit," he had to be swaddled until he was almost six months old, at which point he had started rolling in his sleep and scaring me half to death. Now, not only was he rolling while swaddled and ending up face down with his arms trapped at his side, but he was ROLLING OFF THE BED! They don't mention this in the Montessori books. On the contrary, this type of thing is glossed over and brushed aside as "unusual" and "rare," which led me to a couple of realizations:

1) Books can be wrong.

2) Floor beds aren't for everyone.

3) I was going to have to rethink this whole thing.

He went back into the pack 'n play and has been there ever since. At first we had a couple of pretty good excuses: a camping trip ("he can't sleep on the floor of the cabin - he has to get used to the pack 'n play"), a family vacation ("he just got used to the pack 'n play - we might as well leave him in it until we get back from the beach"), several weekends away during the summer ("I don't want to put him back on the floor bed if we're just going to put him in the pack 'n play in a couple of weeks. Let's be consistent.") Until it just became the norm.

Now we're ready to transition back to the floor bed. It's a work in progress that started last week. The first night was great! The second night was not. And tonight he's sleeping in the pack 'n play. But we're working on it! I know it will be a good thing (if we could just get it to work!) and I'm committed to making it happen. Stay tuned... the adventure continues.