Teeny Manolo

For many students, each school year brings at least a little bit of anxiety. There is a new teacher, new classmates, and just a general fear of the unknown. From a child just starting kindergarten or preschool to an “old hand” in fifth grade, these books are an enjoyable way to ease children back into the school groove. Because let’s face it, after a summer full of video games, vacations, and going to the pool, they need some transition time!

Class Clown Life in Mr. Hockaday’s third grade class is never boring, especially thanks to the antics of Lucas Cott.

I Am Too Absolutely Small for School Lola thinks she is too small for school, but her brother Charlie comes up with all sorts of funny reasons why she should go. Charlie finally comes up with a reason that Lola can’t refute with her own brand of logic.

The Teacher from the Black Lagoon A boy’s worst fears about his first day of school.

The Night Before Kindergarten Set to rhymes like The Night Before Christmas, this book deals with the excitement and apprehension of the first day of school, with a twist!

Arthur’s Teacher Trouble Arthur thinks his teacher is too hard, giving them homework on the first day of school! But eventually Arthur is pleasantly surprised to learn that hard work is rewarded.

Never Spit On Your Shoes Arnie is tired. He’s just finished his first day of first grade, and boy does he have some stories to tell his mom.

The Best School Year Ever The Herdmans are back! They manage to kidnap a baby, rescue a kid’s head from a bike rack, and wash their cat (amongst other things!) in this hilarious book.

Back to School with Betsy At the start of third grade, Betsy is disappointed because her favorite teacher won’t be teaching anymore. But, things turn out much better than she ever expected.

Curious George’s First Day of School George is the best monkey to help Mrs. Apple on the first day of school. Until he gets into trouble, of course!

Time for School, Mouse! From the author of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, this book has Mouse hunting for his homework.

Starting School with an Enemy Fifth grader Sarah’s first days of school aren’t going all that well. Did we mention that her family has just moved to Maryland, where she hates it?

A while back, some cookbooks were published that featured recipes with hidden fruits and vegetables.  It didn’t matter that they were eating brownies with spinach in them, as long as they were eating something healthy.   At least, that was the theory, anyway.

The author of a newly published recipe collection has this to say about the other books:

As a mother of twins and a food professional, I was appalled by this deceptive and sneaky idea. Not only are we teaching our kids to “eat your brownies, they’re good for you” (in a country where a third of kids are obese or overweight and perhaps the first generation to not outlive their parents), but we are lying to our kids and signaling, either implicitly or explicitly, that vegetables, in particular, are so yucky, they have to be hidden. That’s the worst idea I’ve heard since manufacturers decided to add trans fats to everything edible.

I can see her point on the vegetable thing, but I take exception to the “appalled by this deceptive and sneaky idea” comment.

Lying to your child has a long, grand tradition in parenting, and I’ll be darned if I’m going to let it end on my watch.

What parent hasn’t said to their toddler, “Oh, I’m sorry honey, the park is closing now. We have to go!”

Or, “Mr. Scruffles is at a big, beautiful farm, where he can run and play in the grass all day long!”

Or, “Mommy and Daddy weren’t hurting each other. That was just a very special hug.”

Those are just a few of the classics, there are almost too many to mention here. Now I’m not advocating that you baldface lie to your child at every opportunity, but there is no doubt that there are many occasions where a touch of untruth makes everything run that much more smoothly.

Each parent is the best judge of exactly how much information their child needs, given their age and developmental stage. Sometimes the entire, detailed truth is too much for them to handle, and a bit of finessed omission helps a child deal with a situation, rather than causing them to have nightmares for weeks. Parents must wing it as best they know how, and I’m given to thinking that they usually get it right.

Although to this day, I still wonder why we never went to visit Mr. Scruffles at that farm.

Ahhh, that time is coming, if not already here. Yes, the time to ponder what the heck you are going to buy your kids for their back to school wardrobes.

So for the next few weeks, I’m introducing a new feature where I focus on trendy back to school clothes, done two ways. Er, well, sometimes even three if I can swing it. And today, I can indeed swing three versions of the same concept in three different price ranges. Let’s get to it!

80’s influences are back, baby! And that means, of all things, argyle! Doesn’t it just take you back?

Lilly Pulitzer Kids Girl’s Darcie Cardigan Soft cotton cardigan comes with front pocket detail, rib trim, and contrast elbow patches. Tres cute at $68.00.

GapKids girl’s Argyle cardigan A little sparkle goes a long way with this cotton sweater, perfect for layering, $34.50.

Old Navy girl’s patterned polo Granted, it isn’t a sweater, but at $12.00, you will have plenty of money left over to buy some turtlenecks to stick under it.

The utterly fabulous Mrs. Hall asks:

 Dear Glinda:
 
I was wondering if you had any tips for dark under eye circles. Mine are hereditary, i.e. not caused by lack of sleep. Although, I have a five year old daughter, a 14 month old son and a husband in Iraq. So, they are darker and more zombie like than usual.
 
Do you have any suggestions for some nice concealer? 
 
Thank you for any suggestion you might have with my zombie problem,
 
Mrs. Hall

Ayyyyy!  The Glinda knows exactly what the Mrs. Hall is describing, as she is the sufferer of the hereditary dark circles as well!  The Glinda had become very used to people asking her if she had allergies, or if she had gotten enough sleep, or needed a cure for her hangover, or any other half-dozen bordering upon rude comments.  The Glinda merely brushed them away like the annoying flies that they were.  She hoped, though, that one day she would discover the product that would help her.

After many years of searching for the perfect under-eye concealer, she has found it! 

The major trick to the correcting of the under eye circles is to resist the temptation to overcompensate. Often, instead of looking like the zombie, an even more jarring look is produced with colors that are too light.  This produces the unfortunate result of looking like the squirrel instead.

So what is this miracle product?  Look no further than Bare Escentuals.  The Glinda has good news and bad news about this.  The bad news is that these products are not cheap.  But the good news is that they are not horridly expensive, either.  Only mildly expensive.  More than worth skipping four lattes or so to have perfect looking skin, however.

You can simply dip your toe into the shallow end of Bare Escentuals and purchase only their concealer.  The Glinda herself uses Summer Bisque. This is an excellent all-around concealer that is applied with a brush, preferably one like this.   To those that are concerned with looking overly powdery or that it will settle into lines and creases, the Glinda will assure them not to worry. 

Or, if jumping into the deep end of the pool is more your style, you can purchase an entire starter kit, which comes in more shades than the one that is linked.  It also includes brushes, a lotion, and multiple powders for your entire face.  The kits do not include any of the concealers, which is the Glinda’s one complaint.

The powders come in many different shades, for women of all colors.  They are much more forgiving than liquids, which are harder to blend and often look like, well, like you have makeup on.   The powders appear fresher and more natural than any liquid could ever hope to look.  The Glinda has tried more than her fair share of foundations and concealers, including custom-blended ones, and Bare Escentuals is the hands-down winner.

The Glinda will be honest, the initial mucking about with pots of powders and different brushes can be a bit overwhelming when one is used to simply pouring some liquid out of a bottle and smearing it on.  After a while though, it becomes routine. The Glinda is of the humble opinion that having a flawless face to present to the world is a key element for being superfantastic!

And, the Glinda would also like to wish your husband a safe and speedy return home.

The lovely and superfantastic Mindy asks:

I’ve been knocking around the Internet over the past week or so, trying to find information about recycling car seats.  I found that the two seats left from my older kids were on the cusp of expiration. I registered for a new one, but was stuck wondering if I had to pitch the old ones into a landfill.  I would much rather do something less environmentally destructive with them, if possible.

If the car seat doesn’t have a recycling symbol on it, the best directions I received were to strip them of their straps and padding, then chop them up and throw them in the regular trash.  (The more destroyed they are, the better, in order to prevent Dumpster divers from reusing an unsafe seat.)  Really?  There’s nothing better than that, considering the number of car seats which expire or are involved in crashes every year?

Does anyone at Teeny Manolo know anything to do? 

An excellent question, Mindy! It practically boggles the mind to think of how many car seats are out there. They are so big and bulky, it seems like it wouldn’t take all that many of them to pile up to the top of a landfill in no time flat. There has to be something that can be done with them, right?

Well, sort of.

Because all child car seats have an expiration date, like those eggs you just bought, the options are fairly limited. It irritates me to think that something that looks perfectly functional is not, but we have to take the word of the manufacturers that over time, the plastics and materials in the car seats degrade. We have Space Shuttles making multiple trips into outer space and back, but can’t seem to make a car seat that works past six years. OK, a little side rant there.  Back to the question at hand.

How can we dispose of our expired car seat and still give ourselves the environmental warm fuzzies?

To find out the answer…

(more…)

Longtime reader Cherry asks:

Dear Glinda,
Just because it is the season and I’m curious how parents handle things with their kids at this time of year:
How you do deal with the pressures from the Munchkin for Christmas presents? Or has he hit that stage yet?

Cherry, any doubts you have about my son hitting the “all about the presents” stage would be allayed by the very long list of items dictated to me by said five year old in a surprisingly detailed letter to Santa.  We’ll see if Santa can deliver some PVC pipe for him to make his own marble run, as well as some building material for a treehouse.  That should be a challenge.

The interesting part of it is that my son doesn’t watch network television, so he has little exposure to the mighty media forces on display every Saturday morning.

But still, like any kid, he has things in mind that he wants and since his wants are so far very simple, we can handle it.

However, to take some of the emphasis off of himself and what he will be getting, I have tried this year to include him in some philanthropic pursuits which include going with me to the store to pick out toys for some underprivileged children, as well as going through his current set of toys together and picking some to donate to another charity. 

Which is much harder than it sounds, actually, because every toy suddenly becomes a favorite that is unable to be parted with.  Even though it hasn’t been so much as looked at in the past three months, it immediately becomes his most favorite toy that he has loved always. I stand over him and say, too bad dude, you’ve got to pick.  The accompanying dramatics should really get him nominated for an Oscar, but after the tough decisions are made, he feels proud of himself.

I’m not sure how much worse it will get in the coming years, but I hope to balance any sense of entitlement with making sure that we do charitable works and deeds.  And not just at Christmas, but throughout the year. Then, I’ll just cross my fingers and hope that the message that it’s not all about him manages to penetrate that bubble of self-importance that childen often carry themselves around in.

Got a question for us here at Teeny Manolo? Email to theglinda @ gmaildotcom or raincoaster @ gmaildotcom

Let me tell you, there is nothing like having your parenting choices out there for all the world to see.  Although I would love to provide you with more facts and reasons as to why my son doesn’t do his homework, I realize that no matter what I say, I will not change people’s minds.  And that’s ok.  While reading everyone’s well-stated opinions, I remembered something from the Munchkin’s early days.

The Munchkin had colic.  Horrible colic (is there any other kind?) that would keep him literally screaming at all hours of the day and night.  Nothing we did helped.  The doctor informed us of a few home remedies, then basically told us we were screwed on our own.

Holding him helped the most. He wanted to be held all the time. And so that led to us both gently rocking in my chair while he slept during the day and co-sleeping at night. 

My family and friends knew about this situation, and they shook their heads knowingly and said, “Oh Glinda, you are setting yourself up for some big problems in the future.  Let him cry it out and sleep by himself, it’s better that way.”

And so I listened to what they had to say. How could I not?  They were my friends and family, with only good intentions.  One night, I decided that I would let him try to fall asleep by himself.  I left him in the crib, and he cried and cried, and it was the worst thing I had ever heard. The cry was one of feeling alone and abandoned, not one of hunger or discomfort.  I steeled myself, reminding myself that everyone said this was the right thing to do.

As I listened to him cry, the wrongness of it caused me actual physical pain.  I questioned the prevailing wisdom, as I personally had no problem holding him while he slept. In fact, I enjoyed feeling his weight and watching his sweet face as he slumbered.  I wondered why I was listening to everyone else, when I was the one that knew him best, his quirks and likes and dislikes.  It was then and there in the hallway outside his room that I my epiphany occurred. When I felt so strongly about something, I would respectfully go my own way.  I would take facts into account and carefully weigh them, but if in the end I knew deep down that it was wrong for us, I vowed not to do it.  No matter how many people told me I was crazy.

I was warned that I had made a dire mistake, that I would be dealing with sleep problems forever and ever, that I was scarring him emotionally.  I heard it all.  I didn’t care.  What I was doing felt right to me.

And you know what?  I followed the path that worked for us as a family, and eventually got him used to falling asleep on his own by the age of three.  It was not a sudden decision, but a process, because my son does best that way.  And I know that because I am his Mom.  Now, he falls asleep on his own, sleeps all night long, and never protests going to bed.  I wish I was exaggerating, but I’m not.  He is a perfect sleeper.

My critics? They have nothing to say to that, because their advice? It was wrong.  It wasn’t wrong in a literal sense, but it was wrong for me and for him.  Are there babies that can easily fall asleep on their own?  Of course, it’s just that mine wasn’t one of them.  I could tell you other stories about how I went “against the grain” and how it turned out perfectly fine, but this is already getting too long. 

That situation taught me the best lesson I could have learned as a parent, to listen to my intuition more.  Too often, parents are bombarded with information from books, magazines, television, and countless other sources.  Some of them have your best interests in mind, some of them don’t.  It is so difficult to sift through all of that, especially a new parent who is having doubts about their ability to do anything right.   By all means, read and watch and listen. However, it may be none or all or only a certain combination of things that works for you and your child.

But in the end, I have learned that my gut instinct is almost always right.  As long as what you are doing is not harmful, the best gift you can give yourself is to listen to you inner voice.  We as parents know our child best.  Period.  There is no one-size-fits-all way to parent, and don’t believe anyone who tells you there is. 

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. And no, I didn’t rent some crazy cabin out in the woods to write this.

With a wave of my magic wand, I give you some super fantastic gifts for those hard-to-buy for people on your list!

Baby’s 1st Christmas

Handprint Ornament

For the Grandma

Pocket “Brag Book”

For the Beauty Junkie

Bare Escentuals “Buxom Babes” Lip Polish Set

For the Diva

Juicy Couture Crown Charm Necklace

For the Dad

The Dangerous Book For Boys

For the Sweet Tooth

Dylan’s Nostalgic Candy Land Gift Basket

For the Mom

philosophy Amazing Grace Jumbo Gift Set

For the Kid Who Has Almost Everything

Kaloo Bear Sofa

For Mom’s Little Helper

Sassafras Little Cook Tool Kit

For the Teacher

Bliss Spa Mini 6-Pack

In my Monday Teeny Poll, I included Victoria Beckham as one of the selections for a parental “Needs Improvement” award. Apparently, gentle reader Cristina took issue:

Why is Posh even on the list with open drug-users? Because she wears heels? I mean, come on! It sounds like the second you pop out a baby you have to become a frump… Why not be fabulous? I say down with the fricken sneakers and sweats already, they’re ugly and they’re making us ugly and it’s depressing. Better to be Posh and decked out in green feathers - at least it looks like you tried.

Well, so much for trying to be funny. It seems that the Cult of Posh takes offense quite easily.

Upon further reflection, I have to say that maybe I do have a personal problem with Posh, and that is why I gave her a place on the list.

Every time I see the woman, she is wearing towering heels. Whether it be on the soccer field, at a baseball game, or at the airport, her shoes are a minimum of three inches high. And really, I actually do admire her ability to seemingly walk almost anywhere in shoes like that. If ever Posh’s husband gets fired from his job, she could easily make up the lost revenue by holding classes and sharing her knowledge of how to navigate Disneyland in stilettos. I might even sign up for one myself, because I really want to know.

But when I see her lofty heel choices, I ask myself, when she is out in public, how does she have any spontaneous fun with her boys? Because my son wants to run and play tag with me, not listen to me explain why mommy can’t because her shoes will sink into the grass. I look at the picture above and wonder what would happen if one of her sons asked her to kick around that soccer ball with him.

It seems to me that she places fashion and her image above opportunities to have some fun with her kids. Because kids can find the fun anywhere, anytime. However, the minute my fashion choice means that I can’t climb up the slide with my son because I am afraid I am going to break an ankle, then my priorities are a bit misplaced.

And who said that moms have to be frumpy? I don’t remember saying that, and I don’t believe it either. But I do think that when a mom has had a sleepless night taking care of a baby or sick child, she shouldn’t be judged for choosing the yoga pants over the Versace. And it is certainly possible to look polished and cute while being comfortable and wearing, gasp, flats! There is a time and place for high fashion, no doubt. But balance, my friends, it’s all about the balance. To say that it is couture or nothing at the park playdate certainly smacks of an alternate reality to me.

Although perhaps if my husband was pulling in the millions while never helping his team win any games, I too would be able to have a nanny watch my son for hours while I made sure I looked perfect and every hair was in place whenever I walked out the door.

And as soon as that happens, I promise you, I will be all over the green feather display when I drop my son off at preschool.

The lovely reader eilish asks:

Glinda, what do you think of a covert movement to make all boys take proper ballroom dance courses? I think my son might thank me in the long run, but I’m curious what your thoughts are.

Glinda is of the opinion that Culture, with a capital C, is one of the most valuable things that we as parents can help our children become aware of.  Notice the Glinda did not say “like,” but at least some type of exposure is necessary.   Lack of  exposure may or may not lead to a dedication to NASCAR, the fondness for the bonging of the beer, a penchant for greasy trucker hats, or any number of unfortunate things.   Dance, along with art, writing, and music, are some of humanity’s expressions at their finest.   It is important that our children grow up to at least appreciate Culture and recognize its place in our society.

Ahhh, the Glinda can see it now, the handsome son dressed in the classic tuxedo, gliding across the mirror-like dance floor, leading his beautiful partner.  What mother would not love to see her son exuding such grace and elegance as he executes the perfect foxtrot?  ”Dancing With the Stars” is the ratings phenomenon for good reason, is it not?

Almost all women are smitten with a man who can comport himself with reasonable aplomb on the dance floor.  And while we as mothers may be aware of this, it is a difficult concept to convey to the young men in our lives. It seems that grace and elegance are shockingly low on the list of priorities for most boys.  Or perhaps grace and elegance while dodging the linebackers, or running the bases, but nothing that includes wearing shiny shoes with heels seems to count. 

The Glinda thinks that firstly, we should remember that dance, while still being Culture, is technically a sport.  Even if our sons do not see it that way, it is the truth. Dancers are athletes, who train and practice as much as any person with a ball of varying size and a playing field.  One cannot shuffle a few steps of the Electric Slide and call themselves a dancer. Getting the young man to see dance from this point of view may help to ease the resistance, although the Glinda is not betting on it. 

That being said, the Glinda thinks that such a thing as ballroom dancing should be treated as a sport.  Any more than you would force your child to play basketball, you should not necessarily force them to take the ballroom dancing classes.  The Glinda would suggest enrolling your child in a class for one particular style of ballroom dance, for example, the waltz.  And for however many courses it takes to master the basics of the waltz, that would be the commitment from the young person.  Just as if your child were to join a sport, you would have them finish out the season once the commitment was given.

But after that, base future attendance upon the enthusiasm, or lack thereof, of the participant.  The young man may begin by hating his dance lessons with the fire of a thousand white-hot suns.  Eventually, he may begin to like it a little, in spite of himself.  Or, depending on the young man, he may not.  This is where parental wisdom and knowledge of the particular child come into play.  At this point, you the parent can congratulate yourself on the exposure, however brief it may have been, to Culture.

However, as well-intentioned as it may be to try and attempt to forestall a lifetime’s worth of awkward chicken-like dances at weddings and parties, the lessons being given will only be as valuable as the one receiving them allows them to be.