Women’s History Month Role Models – My Friends and Family

March 16, 2015 / Shannon Brescher Shea / 2 Comments

Reading all of the wonderful stories of women being shared for Women’s History Month inspired me to think about the women who have influenced me. I realized that they fell into three categories: women I personally know, women (and girls) in pop culture, and women who have been major leaders in advocacy movements. This week, I’m going highlight my female role-models and hope you find someone to be inspired by!

What do you say when someone asks who inspires you? For me, it’s often the people I have a personal relationship with. Our greatest role models can be right in front of us.

My mom: My number one female role model in my life has always been my mom. As bonkers as we make each other – in that special way only mothers and daughters can – we love each other deeply. As a teacher in an inner-city school district, my mom instilled in me a dual love of learning and service. She was unrelenting in her dedication to her students, buying thousands of dollars in classroom supplies and more than once seriously considering fostering or adopting a student. She taught me what the word “privileged” meant before I ever heard the term, emphasizing that I was lucky to be both physically and emotionally taken care of. Reminding me that many children had neither of those – often, children she worked with every day – she taught me be grateful for what I have and help those who don’t. In her retirement, she’s volunteering at the local nature center and food bank. She’s also the one who inspired my love of cycling. While my family had always gone on short bike trips, her decision to bike 500 miles across New York State during my junior year of college motivated me to sign up for the AIDS Ride for Life. It was the first time I had ever done a major ride and made me a convert to cycling advocacy. In my family, my dad’s mom was the another major influence, whom I’ve written about before.

My friend Nancy, at the first Carl Henn Memorial Ride.

Nancy Breen: On the bike front, Nancy Breen, the chair of the Rockville Bicycle Advisory Committee, is another real inspiration to me. I know she’ll probably raise an eyebrow at her name being on the list, but she totally deserves it. She’s been the chair of our all-volunteer committee for several years now and it’s a pretty thankless job. Besides motivating us to get into gear, she’s spent endless hours with our city’s Mayor and City Council, whose meetings regularly run to midnight. She’s spoke in front of local policymakers on topics varying from police training to bike lanes. And she does all this in the very male-dominated field of bicycle advocacy. In fact, I think Nancy is a big part of why women are well-represented on RBAC and our concerns are heard. I’m also putting a major shout-out to my friend Sophie Chan-Wood, who does a lot of our group’s marketing and is the Rockville Roll Model for the Washington Area Bicyclists’ Association’s Women and Bikes program.

Sister Lucy Poulin: Lucy is the toughest nun I have ever met. Admittedly, I haven’t met that many nuns, but she is a total badass. She founded Homeworkers Organized for More Employment in the 1970s in very rural Maine and still runs it. (She had co-run it with fellow awesome nun Sister Marie Ahern until two years ago, when Marie passed away.) What started as a simple co-op for crafters expanded to a substantial network of services including multiple homeless shelters, a food bank, a soup kitchen, a land-trust program that helps people build their own houses, an alternative high school, and much more. In addition to the main campus, she’s the matriarch of a rambling farm property. Chris and I volunteered at HOME for about a month and stayed in a plumbing-free house next to a lake at the farm. We ran the summer day camp, which at that time was down to 3 girls. Two of the girls were sisters and came from an incredibly tough background – they lived in one of the homeless shelters and their mom was a user and seller of illegal prescription drugs. Living and working there was super-hard and rewarding. But we had the luxury of it being temporary. Lucy deals with some radically difficult people, both those seeking services and volunteers, day in and day out. I saw her frustrated and even angry, but never impatient or mean. Most importantly, she created an atmosphere of fundamental equality. If you were more than a short-time volunteer, no one made the distinction between you and someone who needed paid work. It was never said but widely acknowledged that we all needed to be there, even if it was for different reasons.

Sylvia Robinson: Sylvia is another local activist that is the heart, soul, and backbone of an essential community organization. Leaving her steady job, she sunk her entire life savings into pursuing her dream of establishing a community center for her neighborhood. Housed in a impressive and historical but crumbly brick building in the DC neighborhood of Pleasant Plains, the Emergence Community Arts Collective hosts dance classes, children’s summer programs, poetry open mics, swap meets, and support groups. Through the organization, Sylvia has also led several projects delving into the history of the neighborhood, with a particular focus of highlighting the contributions of black women. I had the pleasure of knowing Sylvia when I volunteered for Ecolocity, a Transition Towns group that focused on sustainable food. She gave us free space for meetings and events as well as use of the building’s yard for a community garden and mini-food forest. Despite the fact that running your own non-profit is relentless, she was always willing to give our group time and energy as well. I’ll also offer a shout-out to my friend and fellow Ecolocity volunteer Gerri Williams, who now lives in Duluth, MN and co-hosts a radio show.

All of these women are dedicated to their greater community without losing sight of the individual relationships that truly make up that community.

Who are the female role models in your life who have inspired you the most?

Under the Sea

March 13, 2015 / Shannon Brescher Shea / Leave a comment

The ocean and its creatures are inherently weird. The act of living in water is so exotic that just considering it captures our imagination. I think that’s why so many kids want to grow up to be marine biologists, myself included. Visiting the aquarium is a peek into a world most of us will never be able to experience, a world about as accessible as the moon. Our trip last weekend to the National Aquarium in Baltimore illustrated that my fascination with the mysteries of the deep runs in the family.

We visited the Aquarium last year around the same time, but Sprout’s enjoyment of it then was limited to liking bright, colorful objects that moved. We hauled him around in the baby carrier and our arms, sapping our strength and limiting his view. While he was just starting to stand, he was still far from walking.

This year’s visit illustrated how very much he’s grown up. He did the entire trip this time on his own power, except the times we needed to lift him up to look in windows. My parents were with us and when my mom checked her Fitbit, she found we walked over a mile. That’s a hell of a lot of steps for a 20 month old! He also had far more comprehension of what he was seeing. These days, he’s regularly identifying all sorts of animals, from birds to bears. When reading his books, from Baby Beluga to Penguin in Love, we’ve learned about fish, puffins, dolphins, whales, and crabs. So the residents of the aquarium were far more than just pretty shapes for him.

We started in Australia’s swamps, moved on to the Great Barrier Reef, hit the bays of America, explored the Amazon rainforest, visited the shark tank and big reef tank and ended with the dolphins.

Of all of the animals, I think the turtles and sharks were his favorite. He stood at the turtle tank in Australia for quite a long time, following them back and forth with his head as they swam in circles. He just stared saying “turtle,” so I think he’s fond of them in general. The sharks certainly held his attention, although I think they frightened him a little. He knew a wall separated them, but still shuddered the few times they glided past him next to the glass. Oddly enough, he also liked the electric eel. I suspect it looked and moved unlike anything he had ever seen. While the giant reef tank impressed him just as much as last time with its endless array of fish and sharks, the dolphins couldn’t sustain his attention. I suspect a combination of tiredness and the dullness of their tank rendered them less engaging than I expected.

Sprout also had great enthusiasm for the non-animal, mechanical elements of the aquarium. Several times he ran up to the many escalators and people-movers that criss-cross the building. When we got off them, we had to rapidly redirect his attention so we wouldn’t descend into Whine-O-Rama.

While I spent most of my time watching Sprout, some of the other children offered substantial entertainment value as well. A little boy in the Australia exhibit, barely through the door, started rolling up his pants to splash in a puddle. His grandmother sighed and shook her head while the aquarium docent helpfully commented that it is meant to be a multi-sensory exhibit. In a room with tall columns filled with bubbling water, we heard one concerned parent plead, “Don’t lick the bubbles.”

We would have thought Sprout worked up an appetite with all of that walking, but it was a Picky Eating Day. Upon a co-workers’ recommendation, we decided to check out Family Meal by Brian Voltaggio. While I thought his fancy, small plates restaurant Range was overpriced and overhyped, I wanted to see how he addressed the complete opposite end of the spectrum. To almost everyone’s enjoyment, it was excellent. The food was reasonably priced – pricier than an Applebees or Friendly’s, but no more expensive than our Silver Diner nearby – and absolutely delicious. The only one who didn’t appreciate it was Sprout. Instead, he used his fries and grilled cheese sandwich for the exclusive purpose of acting as a vehicle for ketchup. When one fry broke off in his mouth after multiple dippings, he pulled it out of his mouth and handed it to my dad. Thanks, sweetheart.

A Bear of Very Little Brain but a Lot of Heart

March 11, 2015 / Shannon Brescher Shea / Leave a comment

When the weather outside is frightful, I’m more willing than usual to bend the rules. While we normally don’t allow Sprout to watch videos – I’d just rather him be outside, looking at a book, or engaging in creative play – I actually suggested an exception a week and a half ago. It was freezing rain, there was a winter storm advisory and there wasn’t anything better in the world to do but snuggle on the couch and watch a movie. So that’s precisely what we did, turning on 1977’s The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh.

We picked that particular movie after a rather strange exploration of the Netflix app’s children’s section. Of course, I fully expected there to be a number of inane films, such as Peabody and Mr. Sherman and Cars’ Tall Tales. Then there were a bunch of children’s films that are excellent, but still too old for a toddler, like The Lion King and Spirited Away. What surprised me was how many obviously adult – many R-rated – films were showing up, from Top Gun to Barbarella to Annie Hall. Also, the fact that “Crime TV Shows” is a category in “Kids” at all. I don’t know if someone is screwing with the Netflix algorithm or what, but don’t trust that section to be accurate!

I hadn’t seen this particular version of Winnie the Pooh since I was little, but I’ve had a lifelong fondness for the stories. My mom nicknamed my dad Pooh Bear in college and have a number of Pooh Bear Christmas ornaments. They sang me Loggins and Messina’s House at Pooh Corner as a child and now I sing it to Sprout in both the most joyful and desperate hours. Sprout also has a plaque with the famous quote from Christopher Robin to Pooh about believing in yourself that my mother-in-law originally gave my husband. Needless to say, I was looking forward to sharing these beloved characters with him.

Sprout thought it was fantastic. He laughed multiple times, mostly at appropriate moments. He giggled at Pooh falling out of a tree and spitting out bees in his hapless attempt to steal honey. He also laughed at the part where Rabbit starts hallucinating because he’s terribly lost in the woods, but I told him it wasn’t appropriate to laugh at someone being scared. He probably just thought the imagery was weird, but I don’t want to reinforce that reaction.

Besides what he laughed at, how he laughed was particularly striking. It was a tinny, almost stilted laugh that was different from his usual one. Chris pointed out that this was one of the few occasions he’s had to laugh “at” something rather than “with” someone. Usually when he’s laughing, it’s because we’re tickling him or doing something funny together. It was odd to see how much his laugh varied depending on the situation.

Sprout wasn’t the only one laughing though – both Chris and I enjoyed it quite a bit. While I remembered bits and pieces from before, there were a number of things I had forgotten:

1) How hallucinatory it is: Besides the sequence with Rabbit, there’s also a very trippy part where Pooh imagines Woozles and Heffalumps taunting him. It’s obviously influenced by Fantasia, with multi-colored dancing, spacey elephants and lithe, morphing weasels. For some reason, it also reminded me of the dream sequence in the Big Lebowski, but maybe that’s just because I love that movie. Jeff Bridges would make a very interesting Pooh Bear though.

2) How many jokes for adults there are: It’s easy to think that having jokes for adults in children’s movies was invented by Pixar and Dreamworks, but Winnie the Pooh had its share of them, most adopted straight from the original stories. From the fact that Pooh Bear quite literally “lives under the name of Sanders” with the sign “Mr Sanders” above his house to Owl clearly being based on some boring Cambridge don, there are a wealth of jokes only adults will get.

3) How deeply annoying Tigger is and how other characters react: Tigger is straight-up obnoxious. He bounces in with no warning, yells at other characters, often destroys their stuff, and abruptly leaves, never with any apologies. Now, many children’s characters could be described as “deeply annoying,” but what’s fascinating about Winnie the Pooh is how they explicitly acknowledge that within the text. Tigger’s behavior absolutely pisses off Rabbit and even frustrates ever-patient, kind Piglet. It’s so bad that in a secret community meeting, Rabbit convinces Piglet to help him lose Tigger in the woods! It’s a pretty awful thing to do, even to someone who is highly inconsiderate.

4) How much the stories are about the challenges of building a community, especially when the “people” in it are flawed: Thr conflict with Tigger is fundamentally about an outsider coming in who doesn’t mesh with the current community. Tigger, Rabbit, Piglet and Pooh all behave poorly and face a variety of consequences for it. Because it is a children’s story, they all learn a lesson at the end and get along, but it isn’t so easy as just a quick fix. While both the outsider and the community chooses to adjust their behavior and expectations to serve the greater good, the story definitely suggests that this is going to be an ongoing struggle for Tigger and Rabbit. Similarly, a story where Owl’s house is destroyed in a big storm is about the sacrifices we make for the people we love. While the storm continues to rain and rain, Eeyore searches for a new home for Owl. Finally, Eeyore announces he has found the perfect house, which Owl declares he loves. The only problem is that it’s already Piglet’s house. Saddened by giving up his house, but wanting his friends to be happy, Piglet makes the sacrifice. Thankfully, Pooh turns it into a relatively happy ending by inviting Piglet to live with him, but it’s pretty obvious that Piglet is still sad about giving up his house. It’s this kind of struggling with real moral issues that really rekindled my love for the movie.

While I’m not against showing Sprout movies and TV shows in general, I do want to be picky about what I show him. Just like his books and bringing him out in nature, I want the pop culture he does consume to be kind, thoughtful, and creative. The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh happily met all of my expectations and more.

Kindie Rock Ahoy!

February 12, 2015October 17, 2022 / Shannon Brescher Shea / 3 Comments

Remembering one’s first concert is often an exercise in teenage nostalgia, full of the haze of hormones and overwrought emotions. Unfortunately, we’ve already denied Sprout such pleasure, as we brought him to his first concert this weekend. But then again, my first concert was Sharon, Lois and Bram and the only lasting effect was a life-long love of music, so I think he’ll be okay. (My first concert without my parents was Santana, where there was definitely a different kind of haze.) On Saturday, at the pre-nap hour of 10:30 AM, we joined the audience for Marsha Goodman-Wood, part of the Junior Jams series and a “kindie rock” artist.

The venue, the FNDTN Gallery, was a small space in a local antiques district, crammed between a furniture store and a fussy, white tablecloth restaurant. Not exactly where you’d expect to a have a children’s concert. In fact, I would have walked right past the entrance if another parent hadn’t given me directions. Most of it was hardly wider than the single door that made up the storefront, a long, narrow hallway with chairs on both sides. Near the stage, it stretched out a bit, a bench with pillows lining the back wall. Despite its odd shape, the venue was warm and intimate. The walls were decorated with colorful, psychedelic paintings and there were art figurines lined up on one shelf. It was so small that there wasn’t a bad seat in the house.

As the musician did sound check on her guitar and the start time approached, more and more families filtered in. While some parents took the seats – particularly those with smaller children – a number sat on the floor, giving their kids lots of freedom to move. We sat in seats right near the front, so Sprout could dance if he wanted, but could sit on our laps if he didn’t.

Finally, after extended tweaking of the speakers and a surprising amount of patience from the kids, the music got started. From the beginning, it was clear that Marsha Goodman-Wood was no ordinary children’s singer. Contrary to stereotype, she was very, very good. Her clear voice reminded me of Carole King, as did her very curly hair. Her stage presence was lively without being grating, a highly delicate balance for a children’s performer.

And the lyrics to her original songs reminded me of They Might Be Giant’s Here Comes Science album, a high bar to clear. (I’ve never seen anything else on Amazon related to kids that actually has 5 stars.) In a song called “Why Can’t We Dance on Jupiter?” she explains that because it’s made of gas, there’s no dirt or grass. However, with 68 moons, “there has to be one where you can groove.” Along with random facts, she also did an adept job of explaining scientific theories. She opined that “gravity’s not just a good idea, it’s the law” and reinforced the fact that invertebrates have no bones about 20 times in a catchy number about giant squid. The music was fun too – upbeat, with her on guitar accompanied by a drummer.

In addition to her original songs, she also did some covers. I recognized “All Around the Kitchen” from one of Sprout’s Music Together classes. She also sang Jason Mraz’s Sesame Street adaptation of his famous song, which I think I like much better than his original.

As the music was quite danceable, plenty of kids took advantage. Marsha Goodman-Wood encouraged it, of course, suggesting possible moves that included imitating spaceships, astronauts, sea creatures, penguins and roosters. While some kids tried to take direction, most just wiggled their little bodies to the beat (sort of). But the absolute cutest thing that happened during the entire concert was three little girls that joined hands and twirled in a circle, like a nerdy version of Ring Around the Rosie.

While many kids were grooving, Sprout watched with an focused but rather blank expression on his face, chewing on his hand. This isn’t exactly unusual – when he likes something but is still processing it, he tends to just stand and stare. In fact, it was the same expression he had for most of Disney World and when I read to him. As he insists that Chris or I read at least 15 books a day to him, I know this is not an expression of discontent. But despite the rational part of my brain telling me otherwise, I was still anxious that he wasn’t enjoying it. How his stillness contrasted with the other kids’ energy just made me tense, even though I knew it wasn’t his fault. Thankfully, my anxiety ebbed when he climbed up on my lap and receded further when the musician handed out bells. While he wasn’t super-enthusiastic in his bell-ringing, he did show some interest.

While Sprout’s reaction to his first concert wasn’t the stuff parental dreams are made of, I do think it was worth it. After all, we all enjoyed it, in our own way.

Bedtime Stories for Grown-Ups

February 3, 2015 / Shannon Brescher Shea / 5 Comments

Every night, I read 3 to 4 different books out loud to Sprout before I put him to bed. Of course, this is a cherished parental tradition. But recently, Chris and I were talking about reading the “A Song of Ice and Fire series” by George R.R. Martin and I jokingly said that I’d only read it if it was out loud to each other. I had been hesitant to read it for a number of reasons: the books are physically large to bring on the Metro (and I don’t like e-readers), I’m not a big fan of either courtly drama or high fantasy, there’s a fair bit of sexual violence, and most importantly, Martin is an achingly slow writer. The first book in the series, A Game of Thrones, was released in 1996. I don’t have the patience to wait for two more books; it makes Harry Potter seem absolutely speedy. But reading aloud solved, or at least minimized, many of these issues. Reading was time spent together, rather than alone. With such a slow reading speed, Martin might be done with the next book by the time we finished the series. Besides these anticipated benefits, I’ve found a number of other elements I enjoy.

This isn’t the very first time we’ve read aloud to each other. Once when Chris was horribly sick, I read Tolkein’s The Silmarillion to him until he fell asleep. While I didn’t get past the first story, I still remember the experience fondly today.

Like that first time, reading together now is a bonding experience. Of course, this is so obvious in hindsight, considering how much we (usually) love reading to Sprout.

If nothing else, it requires that we go to bed at the same time, a hallmark of a strong marriage. Reading before bedtime forces us to slow down and spend a few minutes together. There’s an easy intimacy to lying in bed and listening to each other, with no agenda, no issues, no reminders of the day before or the day ahead. Just a good, shared story.

Reading the same book simultaneously also gives us a topic of conversation apart from work or Sprout. Often, when we read the same book, it’s weeks, months or even years apart. Either way, it’s no longer on the top of the first person’s head, itching away with a vital urgency, by the time the second person finishes it. Being literally on the same page, we can share our enthusiasm.

While I don’t think marriage counselors ever suggest reading out loud to each other, instead talking about “date nights” that require childcare, perhaps they should. It’s a lot cheaper, if nothing else.

As we go, I also find that I’m enjoying the text more than if I was reading it on my own. Martin’s prose occasionally wanders into the silly, so I can snark on it a little instead of thinking of something clever and having no one to tell. (I do try to minimize the commentary, so I’m not totally obnoxious as a reading partner.) Even though we’re only 100 pages into the first book, he’s already shown a tendency to “Joss” his characters, named after Joss Whedon’s affinity for killing off his most beloved characters. Talking to Chris afterwards relieves my frustrations, instead of just stewing in my annoyance. We’ve already had a few, “Did he just do that?!” moments.

Listening instead of hearing also makes me slow down and truly pay attention to the words the first time. I’m a very fast reader, so I often have to go back and re-read sections because I half-skimmed them by mistake. I’m also a very verbal person, but listening gives me the space to visualize the scene much more than if I was reading. Saying the words and thoughts of the characters out loud further engages me in their world. For just a moment, I am embodying them, speaking their lines as if I’m in a play. It’s much more intense than reading alone would be. I can’t skip past or rush uncomfortable parts – everything must be given appropriate weight and time.

It’s just a small amount each night – four to eight pages, on average. And yet, this little bit of reading together makes all the difference.

A Love Letter to my Grandmother, Who Suffers from Severe Dementia

January 19, 2015 / Shannon Brescher Shea / 7 Comments

Dear Grandma,

A Love Letter to my Grandmother, who suffers from severe dementia

I’m posting this letter to my blog because I know that if I sent it, you would not be able to read it. Even if you did read it, you would not remember it or for that matter, perhaps even remember me. I’m writing this because when I saw you a few weeks ago I realized that even though I could have told you all of this in person, it wouldn’t make a difference. I realized that you wouldn’t understand my love for you, only the confusion and frustration of dementia. So I’m writing it here so that other people can know how amazing you are, even in your absence.

Grandma, you are one of the bravest people I’ve ever known. The story of how you came over from Poland as a three-year-old with Babcia with the image of the Statue of Liberty as your first memory is woven into my life tapestry. Your story of seeing your father for the first time at Ellis Island reminds me of the beauty of family and the need to love each other in even the most challenging of times.

Grandma, you are one of the most adventurous people I’ve ever known. Your early travel must have instilled a wanderlust in you, because you were the epitome of a well-traveled person for me for decades. From Asia to Australia, hearing the stories of the places you visited instilled that desire in me. I doubt I would have lived abroad or ventured to the Amazon without your example. And knowing that you did it all after you retired illustration that travel is not just a young person’s game, that even parents and grandparents can adventure if they truly want to.

Grandma, you are one of the most generous people I’ve ever known. Knowing that you left your formal education to go to work because your family needed financial support is staggering, especially considering your love for learning. Taking my aunt and newborn cousin in when my ex-uncle decided he no longer wanted them in his life was another example of your giving spirit. Contributing so much to my college education and even the down payment on my house were acts of generosity I can never fully express my gratitude for. In every case, you did them without bragging or calling attention to them. Something needed to be done? You did it. My commitment to my family and larger community is no doubt inspired by the example you lived.

Grandma, you are one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, putting you in the company of Oxford laureates. Your lack of formal education just meant that you valued learning even more. You were always interested in what I was studying in school, asking me questions about it. Always knowing I’d have something to read when I visited your house, I spent hours flipping through back issues of National Geographic and Reader’s Digest. Despite your lack of education, you had a long and fruitful career that enabled you to save money and invest it intelligently.

Grandma, I know the person you can present to the world now isn’t the person you truly are. I mourn that you can no longer access so much of your true self. But I remember and keep all that you taught me in my heart. I know that you were and are beautiful and brilliant. So know that you live on in the stories and values I teach my son and try to live out myself every day.

Halfway through the Dark – Traveling Home for Christmas

December 29, 2014October 17, 2022 / Shannon Brescher Shea / 3 Comments

In the midst of winter, we rage against the darkness with as much love and joy as we can muster, celebrating with family and friends. I celebrate Christmas, but it is only one holiday among many, whether it is New Years, Solstice, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or earlier in autumn, Diwali. We prepare ourselves for the coming cold by surrounding ourselves with light. This year, our family was so fortunate to be surrounded with love, even when we stumbled a bit.

Unlike many families, Chris and I never had to worry about sharing Christmas between two sets of parents. As we were high school sweethearts, our parents still live four miles apart. For the past several years, we’ve actually done a joint holiday, where we open presents separately at each house in the morning and then all have dinner together. This year, we stayed at Chris’ parents house for the whole week, along with his sister and brother-in-law.

But unlike previous years, we had a toddler. While Sprout was in our midst last Christmas, he was barely sitting up, much less mobile. He required constant supervision, but at least stayed where you put him. Last Christmas Day, we were able to prop him up in a laundry basket while he looked adorable in his little Santa pajamas. This year, he was everywhere all at once all of the time. Between the relatives and an endless parade of guests (Christmas Eve, Christmas dinner, the day after Christmas), plus the tree and decorations, there was a palable sense of excitement. Needless to say, there was none of his normal interest in sitting quietly by himself flipping through a book.

Adding to this chaos was a number of non-human friends. My sister and brother-in-law brought their schauzer puppy, Jasper, who is about half Sprout’s size. They became fast friends. Sprout would slowly pet him on the back saying, “Niiiice” in a tone that my sister-in-law likened to Borat. While he did become bolder over time, I was proud of how gentle and kind Sprout was to Jasper. Occasionally the constant petting became a bit much, but in general Jasper was very tolerant and enjoyed Sprout’s company. One of them was almost always following the other around. When I took Sprout over to my parents’ house, Jasper was genuinely excited when he returned. He was even protective of Sprout, barking when he thought he was doing something dangerous.

The other non-human friends were a bit more – mechanical. My mother-in-law loves singing animatronic Christmas decorations. In addition to her “people” (little synchronized carolers), a singing stuffed Santa, a set of Disney characters playing instruments, and a penguin, she bought Sprout a singing Christmas tree that was about half his height. To the tune of Rocking Around the Christmas Tree, it bounced, its mouth moved, and its little lights blinked. It was cute the first few times. On repeat number 10, it became intensely grating, especially when Sprout turned on all of the singing creatures simultaneously. It also bothered me that they mesmerized Sprout even more than TV. We hoped Jasper would attack them and force a retreat, but he seemed to enjoy them as well. Which meant the rest of us either had to tolerate the same recorded songs over and over and over again or whining that we hid the toys on him. We settled on some combination of the two, along with a heavy dose of distraction. Even my mother-in-law became sick of them eventually – it took a toddler for her to realize that someone could love her “people” even more than she did.

While Sprout was wonderfully careful around the dog and fragile decorations, we started to see some of the fabled toddler defiance emerging. He began saying “No!” with a snotty edge in his voice and a pout. He degenerated into mini-meltdowns a few times, both conveniently in public, at restaurants. Thankfully, getting away from the table helped calm him down significantly. I know that won’t always work in the future, so I’m working on my bag of tricks, including deep breathing (for him and me).

I couldn’t blame him for being on a bit of an emotional roller-coaster – everything was so confusing. After an absolutely bonkers December with the first two weeks spent traveling, we bopped from house to house several times over the course of the week. On the way there and back, we slept over at my aunt’s house. Once we were in upstate New York, we spent half of the time at my in-laws and half the time at my parents’ houses. And we weren’t alone in those places. As Sprout is starting to be afraid of strangers, the crowd of unfamiliar extended family and friends must have been disorienting. Considering how much was new and overstimulating, he did extremely well.

With all of the other thrills, he wasn’t that excited by Christmas Day. He’s too young to enjoy anticipation, so unwrapping presents confused him. His very first present was a Little Tykes slide and once he saw that, he wasn’t interested in sitting still enough to open anything else. To him, the wrapped presents were just fancy boxes.

Eventually, he did open them all with a bit of help. I wouldn’t say otherwise (of course), but I was extremely pleased with what everyone got him. While I wrote a list, I knew folks were going to buy items that weren’t listed. Fortunately, all of our relatives stuck to giving the types of toys we value – active, creative, practical, durable, and not electronic.

Chris and I chose to make the trek up to the great, cold north so that we can spend it with our family and old friends. It was worth every mile.

Thankful for All of Our Families

December 4, 2014 / Shannon Brescher Shea / 3 Comments

We have so much to be thankful for. That’s never been more apparent than this past Thanksgiving, when we had not just one, but two different feasts with our church and biological families.

Usually, we trek home to upstate New York for Thanksgiving. But as it takes us close to 10 hours to get there and we’re going home for Christmas, we had no desire to make that drive twice in a month. Plus, a quirk of bad work scheduling means that I am traveling the first two weeks of December.

Instead, this year our parents came to us. I’m an only child, so it was simple for my mom and dad. For Chris’s parents, it was a bit more complicated – his sister lives in Las Vegas. As they couldn’t be on two coasts simultaneously, we delayed our Thanksgiving until Saturday.

Nonetheless, we carried out some Thanksgiving traditions on Thursday. Chris baked off Pillsbury cinnamon rolls, a treat his family has every holiday. We plopped on the couch for the Macy’s parade, which enthralled Sprout. He grooved to the Broadway numbers, tried to lift his leg like the Rockettes, “toot toot”ed at the Thomas the Train balloon, and loved the Sesame Street float.

With the afternoon free, we joined our church’s Thanksgiving dinner. We have one every year for congregants who aren’t leaving town, along with any family or friends they bring. This year, it was Chris, Sprout and I, my parents, another couple from our church with a small child, my pastor and his family, and one of my pastor’s homeless friends. The table was full of conversation and laughter. One of the more amusing incidents was my pastor’s son describing an imaginary Blue’s Clues parody that involved Blue rabidly attacking the videocamera and Steve using Slippery Soap to take a shower. While it was pretty funny, his dad shut it down before it got even longer and more inappropriate.

After dinner, several of us participated in the nerd-traditional post-meal activity of playing video games, namely an eight-person game of Super Smash Brothers. I couldn’t figure out where my character was half of the time, but it was a lot of fun. While the babies couldn’t play, they kept busy building towers out of Megablocks. Later on, we put them on the piano bench and they played the cutest little duet I’ve ever seen. While it sounded like a modernist sound piece, they were tapping on the keys rather than banging, which was impressive for a couple of toddlers.

That night, we pulled out the board and card games. After a couple games, my dad headed to bed while Chris, my mom, and I stayed up with a bottle of red wine. Although I had earlier insisted that six bottles of wine was too much for the weekend, I was clearly wrong. A couple of glasses each fueled a conversation about drunken escapades, poorly thought-out decisions, and other quirks of adulthood that was so engaging that we completely lost track of our game of 500 Rummy.

My in-laws arrived on Friday night, making the party complete. I’m extraordinarily fortunate to have a great relationship with them. As Chris and I were high-school sweethearts, I basically grew up with them.

Despite all of the company, I was relaxed. While I sometimes get defensive when visitors help with the dishes or clean my house, I accepted the assistance. As the grandparents adored playing with Sprout, I was happy to give them that time. At work, I’ve been sprinting from one project to another, so it was good to physically and mentally rest.

Thanksgiving dinner was similarly lacking in disaster. The menu was fairly traditional – turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, canned cranberry sauce (with ridges, of course), Crescent rolls, green beans, corn, and carrots. As it was the first Thanksgiving we ever hosted, we made some compromises – my family’s sweet potato casserole instead of his apples and yams, his canned cranberry sauce instead of my cranberry jello mold. We made about a million trips to the store and ran the dishwasher about 10 times, but that happens any time Chris takes on a big cooking project. The only thing that didn’t go quite according to plan was that for all of our existing kitchen equipment, we had to buy a turkey baster after the bird already went in the oven.

We even had time for some family activities. Heading over to the park, we found out that Sprout is very interested in basketball but tragically a little too short to play it yet. Our park has a “funnel ball” game, where you toss a ball up into a big funnel and it falls out of one of three holes. The adults were playing it, although we weren’t very good at actually getting it in the hoop. After watching us, Sprout took his ball, walked up to the pole supporting the funnel, stood up on his tip-toes, and threw it as hard as he could. Which was about three inches. And then he did it again and again. He was convinced that if he just tried hard enough, he would get it in. When we lifted him up to help him out, he was just pissed that he was still too short to get it in the funnel. He finally got so frustrated that we had to move on to a different part of the playground to prevent a full-blown tantrum. I had to admire his can-do spirit though.

The last day, we went to the National Zoo to see their Christmas light display. Needless to say, it was far more successful than our last trip there. While many of the exhibits were closing when we arrived, we saw some animals who are often hiding in the heat. Sprout watched the furry beaver intently as it ambled along and then splashed into the water. As he woofed at the wolf, it sulked by and then cast an intense gaze on him. He also liked the farm animals, especially the huge Holstein cow who had an astoundingly low moo. But his favorite part was the holiday train display, where he just stared at the three levels of trains going around and around and around for a good ten minutes.

I’m so grateful that I could spend the holidays with so many people who are both weird and wonderful.

Our House is a Very, Very, Very Fine House

December 1, 2014 / Shannon Brescher Shea / 1 Comment

Our house is small. Not Tiny House small, but substantially less floor space than the suburban houses Chris or I grew up in. While having a small house has its advantages, adding a third person to our family highlighted the need for more space. Fortunately, after years of saving and months of work, it’s now substantially bigger than it was. With the remodeling of our basement, we expanded from 950 sq ft to about 1400! Of course, like any construction project, it was not without its quirks.

Remodeling the basement was in the cards since we bought our house four years ago. Our entire house had been remodeled right before we bought it, so the main living area didn’t require any work. But we knew once we had kids, three tiny bedrooms and a single bathroom weren’t going to be enough. Even though the family before us raised ten kids in it, I don’t have the constitution to handle either that many kids or that little space. But we also knew we couldn’t buy a “starter house” and then move up. If nothing else, we wouldn’t be able to afford enough additional house that met our demanding requirements (single family, at least a bit of yard, close to Metro, walkable/bikable, good school) to justify moving. For those who aren’t familar with the D.C. market, it’s perfectly normal for an upper-middle class family to live in a house that costs half a million dollars or more.

Although we always planned on remodeling, we also knew we weren’t doing it ourselves. My interest and experience doesn’t extend further than painting, so there was no way in hell we were touching drywall installation, plumbing or electricity.

In fact, if I was in charge of the project, it probably wouldn’t have happened. I’m usually the planner in our house, but Chris really stepped up. He figured out the layout, modeled it on the computer, measured everything out, and taped the floor to indicate the locations of the new walls. He even stacked everything in the basement Tetris-style into the 5 square feet that was neither being remodeled nor already occupied by the washer, dryer, or hot water heater. As it took us half a year to pick a rug for the living room, I was very impressed by his level of focus and commitment. The layout was so accurate that except for a few tweaks, the contractor based his plans right off of Chris’s.

So far, so good. Of course, everything is good until you actually start construction. Our first major barrier came when we found out that unlike almost every other municipality, our town requires that you have an outside exit if you remodel the basement at all. (Most places only require it if you have a bedroom.) We had originally wanted to put in a door but put it off because it was too expensive. Now, despite the extra $10,000 cost (a third of our total budget), it was add in a door or cancel the project.

The situation changed once again when the construction crew tried to dig out the door and tested where the natural gas line runs through our yard. Of course, the line is at exactly the wrong depth. In the end, we were able to save the project by expanding the bedroom window instead of the door. Unfortunately, it still ended up being $5,000 more than our original budget without the functionality of the door.

On top of that detour, we also had picky plumbing inspectors, quirky permitting systems, forgetful plumbers, and over-scheduled duct-work specialists. None of them were show-stoppers, but they added up to a hell of a headache.

In particular, we were afraid that the construction wouldn’t be finished by Thanksgiving, as both my parents and in-laws were staying with us. If the basement wasn’t done, everyone was sleeping in our living room.

I was surprisingly unshaken by all of this. I had great confidence in Chris and the luxury of ignoring the problems. For once, I didn’t have a strong opinion and enjoyed it. Unfortunately, this was the opposite of what Chris needed from me. Between the high expense, the delayed schedule, the construction noises interrupting Sprout’s naps, and the nuisance of having people in the house, he was stressing out in a way that he rarely does. Responding with “meh” when he asked me for input aggravated the crap out of him. Meanwhile, I was having my own unrelated mini-meltdown. Both of us were pissed at each other, wanting the other person to drop their worries to deal with what we felt was a higher priority.

Fortunately, by getting some of the toxic thoughts out of my head, I had space to think about the remodeling project. In the past few weeks, I’ve tried to be much more interested, especially as our vision became more tangible. When it was just lines of tape, I found it difficult to imagine what it would look like. But once the walls were up and we needed to pick wall colors, I was able to care more.

With us working mostly in tune, we made the best of a frustrating situation. Chris was particularly annoyed at the switch from a door to a window. The lack of a door left an awkwardly-shaped spot where we were going to put a mud room. Instead, I realized we could use it to fulfill a lifelong dream – having a library. Sure, it’s tiny. But a “room” (albeit one without a door) devoted to books? Heaven.

Once we actually started talking, choosing the wall colors and accessories also fell into place. The color wheel’s absurd names (Palisade?) provided some needed levity. We chose an orange-tinged white and tan carpet for the main area and light blue paint with sandstone tiles for the bathroom. While I’m far from an interior designer, everything looks pretty nice together.

Like a reality TV show, the construction team finished right on the deadline. With my parents arriving Wednesday morning, the contractors left at 5 PM Tuesday night.

Like any design show, the big reveal topped it off. While Chris and I saw it every day, Sprout hadn’t. That night, we brought him down our newly carpeted stairs. At first, he gave us a look that said, “Was this always here? I don’t remember this.” After standing in the middle of the floor for a while, he walked from room to room, investigating each one. He was particularly interested in our huge storage closet, touching all of the shelves and pointing at the light fixture. To finish off, he ran in circles, enjoying the squishiness of the carpet that he doesn’t get from the hardwood upstairs.

In the end, the whole project turned out beautifully. Everyone had somewhere comfortable to sleep, Sprout has way more space to play, and we have a lot more storage. All of the delays were just little bumps on the way to our destination.

We'll Eat You Up – We Love You So

The Adventures of a Mom Just Trying to Make a Difference

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