Fun in the Sun, Pain in the Rain
Note to mothers of baby boomer age and older: The following post contains descriptions of an activity that may disturb you. Of course, I am referring to playing with play-doh. While I assure you that play-doh has a new formulation and no longer sticks to the rug, if you can’t believe it or the memories of trying to get play-doh out of the rug are just too raw, please stop reading where indicated.
In the springtime, when the weather dries up and warms up and we start spending every afternoon outside, I remember how easy it is to entertain the kids. While I do not consider myself a particularly “outdoorsy” girl and can’t say that camping or hunting hold any allure for me, I do make an attempt to get myself and the kiddies outside whenever it is not raining. Granted, last summer after about 21 days straight of sunshine, I declared a rainout (like in Bull Durham) and kept them indoors, but by and large, if the weather is fair, a little time outdoors does wonders for everybody’s disposition. Nearly everyone I know has a story of how a miserable, teething, colicky, sleep-deprived baby became a joy to behold the moment he/she was taken outdoors. Even as the kids grow older, something about all of the space above them and around them instantly opens their imagination, lifts some of the stress from their little shoulders, and puts a smile on a once cranky face. I have observed this phenomenon over and over again with my kids, which makes me wonder, why are we always alone outdoors?
I believe one major reason that we don’t see more people outside is parental fear. A sunburn 20 years ago was an unfortunate and painful experience, but if you let your child get sunburned now, you are responsible for setting him up to an almost certain bout with skin cancer. A mosquito bite 20 years ago was an itchy annoyance, but now it is a gateway to a potentially fatal disease. Ticks 20 years ago were a disgusting badge of honor for kids who spent too much time searching for baseballs under the hedges, now one bite may sentence a kid to devastating neurological trauma. But sunshine and bugs are not, in general, consciously out to get your kids, the way sexual predators, kidnappers, and other mayhem-inclined individuals are. The media coverage of victimized children would lead even the most level-headed parent to believe that every unfamiliar car passing through the neighborhood has come to snatch the children (but considering our neighborhood is protected by armed guards, this doesn’t seem like it should be as scary as it might be in other places). All of the potential harm that can come to our children now and in the future has been identified and itemized for us, so if we fall down on the job and let them get a sunburn or a bug bite, we have only ourselves to blame (and we definitely need more occasions for guilt).
I am afraid for my kids too, and I don’t want them to get sunburns or bug bites, and I certainly don’t want them in the same zip code with anyone who might hurt their feelings let alone their very lives. But I can use sunscreen to prevent the sunburn, bug spray to prevent the bug bites, and easiest of all, myself to keep them safe from everything else. But where is every one else? What does every one do inside all the time? I’m not asking because I feel superior, I’m asking because I’m desperate to know.
On a day like today, when the rain starts at breakfast and pours all day long, I find myself unable to come up with things that the kids can do that will take up a big chunk of time. I have been spoiled by the neighbor’s trampoline, which can entertain the kiddies for hours, until their little legs are shaking with exhaustion. I even let them play in the disgusting sand under the swings behind our house, because they are willing to sit there and play from after school until dinner time. For a while the playground was the site of a new imagination game every day, and I could just sit on the bench and hold the tissues while the kids entertained themselves. We’ve got t-ball, a basketball hoop, soccer balls, bean bags, horseshoes, golf clubs, jumpropes, sidewalk chalk – everything you might need to play outside. But inside…
Inside there is nowhere to jump, since the girls have bunkbeds and our bed is always covered with stuff (and since jumping is not encouraged). There is nowhere to dig, nothing to climb, and they are not allowed to take chalk and color everything in sight. We’ve got board games, we’ve got puzzles, we’ve got toys, but in the end, we’ve got lots of time to fill. We bake together, we do art projects, we read books, but I was not trained in childhood education, so I quickly run out of ideas. Even stretching (at times to the point of no return) the guidelines for TV and computer screen time, I am still left with a good part of the day with kids teetering on the brink of boredom and all the attendant whining and annoying behavior.
I have come up with exactly one activity that is special enough that the kiddies know if they walk away, it will be weeks or even months before they get another chance at it. One activity that takes up big chunks of time and never ends in tears: playing with play-doh.
Note to Grandmothers: stop reading here.
When we moved from Kentucky, I threw out all of our play-doh. Most of it was a rather spooky grey color, and I didn’t think it would fare too well sitting in storage during the heat of the summer. I didn’t replace the play-doh and thought that maybe the kids had forgotten about it. Then one afternoon Lauren brought home a goodie bag with a little tub of about a quarter of a cup of fake play-doh. That little tub of yellow play-doh was gold in our house, each kid patiently waiting for a turn to squish it and roll it on the table. The whole spectacle became rather pathetic, so when my brother called to see what he should get the kids for Christmas, I told him to get them all play-doh. Since my brother (who has no children) specifically chooses toys that either make a huge mess or a huge amount of noise, play-doh was his kind of present. He did not disappoint them. Between the three kids we got so much play-doh that we had to leave some behind at my parents’ house because I didn’t think I had a place to store it all. I had kept all of the play-doh toys that we had accumulated in Kentucky, so now we have a storage bin of play-doh and play-doh paraphernalia that would satisfy a small preschool.
The kids love to play play-doh, and sometimes after spending an hour playing, they will stop and have lunch and then go back to it for another hour. I used to be a little stressed out when the kids would start smushing all of the different playdoh colors together. How could you make a pink pig if the pink play-doh is streaked with green, purple, and orange? Then I finally realized that kids think the more colors something has, the prettier it is, so now I just open all the little containers and walk away. I don’t go too far though, because they always want to show me what they’ve made, and I don’t want them to have to carry the play-doh all over the house looking for me. Although the play-doh comes out of the rugs now, I hate spotting it weeks after it was dropped, because then I can’t immediately identify what it is (candy? crayon? bug?).
One big reason the kids love play-doh is the play-doh scissors and knives. I hover over them when they use the regular scissors, but they can be as destructive as they want with the playdoh scissors. Usually they work in teams, with one person making shapes and the other chopping them up. They also enjoy pretending that they are making cookies, since the opportunity to use cookie cutters generally only presents itself at Christmas time in our house. The only downside to play-doh is that all of the contraptions that are too hard for a small child to operate. The play-doh “fun factory” which makes spaghetti and other long shapes, has not changed since I was little, and you do need to put some weight on that handle to get the spaghetti out. The fun factory is also hard to clean out, so the kiddies usually need a grown up to pry the moving parts loose from the layer of solidified play-doh. But I’m willing to stop by the play-doh jobsite occasionally and put in a few minutes at the fun factory, because I get a little stretch of quiet time in exchange.
Yes, play-doh is a fine way to pass the time every now and again. But although I’ve made peace with the play-doh, I’d still rather take the kids outside. I’ve got my fingers crossed that no new menaces or pests or diseases pop up (I’m talking to you, bird flu). Once the play-doh becomes old hat, I’m done for.
In the springtime, when the weather dries up and warms up and we start spending every afternoon outside, I remember how easy it is to entertain the kids. While I do not consider myself a particularly “outdoorsy” girl and can’t say that camping or hunting hold any allure for me, I do make an attempt to get myself and the kiddies outside whenever it is not raining. Granted, last summer after about 21 days straight of sunshine, I declared a rainout (like in Bull Durham) and kept them indoors, but by and large, if the weather is fair, a little time outdoors does wonders for everybody’s disposition. Nearly everyone I know has a story of how a miserable, teething, colicky, sleep-deprived baby became a joy to behold the moment he/she was taken outdoors. Even as the kids grow older, something about all of the space above them and around them instantly opens their imagination, lifts some of the stress from their little shoulders, and puts a smile on a once cranky face. I have observed this phenomenon over and over again with my kids, which makes me wonder, why are we always alone outdoors?
I believe one major reason that we don’t see more people outside is parental fear. A sunburn 20 years ago was an unfortunate and painful experience, but if you let your child get sunburned now, you are responsible for setting him up to an almost certain bout with skin cancer. A mosquito bite 20 years ago was an itchy annoyance, but now it is a gateway to a potentially fatal disease. Ticks 20 years ago were a disgusting badge of honor for kids who spent too much time searching for baseballs under the hedges, now one bite may sentence a kid to devastating neurological trauma. But sunshine and bugs are not, in general, consciously out to get your kids, the way sexual predators, kidnappers, and other mayhem-inclined individuals are. The media coverage of victimized children would lead even the most level-headed parent to believe that every unfamiliar car passing through the neighborhood has come to snatch the children (but considering our neighborhood is protected by armed guards, this doesn’t seem like it should be as scary as it might be in other places). All of the potential harm that can come to our children now and in the future has been identified and itemized for us, so if we fall down on the job and let them get a sunburn or a bug bite, we have only ourselves to blame (and we definitely need more occasions for guilt).
I am afraid for my kids too, and I don’t want them to get sunburns or bug bites, and I certainly don’t want them in the same zip code with anyone who might hurt their feelings let alone their very lives. But I can use sunscreen to prevent the sunburn, bug spray to prevent the bug bites, and easiest of all, myself to keep them safe from everything else. But where is every one else? What does every one do inside all the time? I’m not asking because I feel superior, I’m asking because I’m desperate to know.
On a day like today, when the rain starts at breakfast and pours all day long, I find myself unable to come up with things that the kids can do that will take up a big chunk of time. I have been spoiled by the neighbor’s trampoline, which can entertain the kiddies for hours, until their little legs are shaking with exhaustion. I even let them play in the disgusting sand under the swings behind our house, because they are willing to sit there and play from after school until dinner time. For a while the playground was the site of a new imagination game every day, and I could just sit on the bench and hold the tissues while the kids entertained themselves. We’ve got t-ball, a basketball hoop, soccer balls, bean bags, horseshoes, golf clubs, jumpropes, sidewalk chalk – everything you might need to play outside. But inside…
Inside there is nowhere to jump, since the girls have bunkbeds and our bed is always covered with stuff (and since jumping is not encouraged). There is nowhere to dig, nothing to climb, and they are not allowed to take chalk and color everything in sight. We’ve got board games, we’ve got puzzles, we’ve got toys, but in the end, we’ve got lots of time to fill. We bake together, we do art projects, we read books, but I was not trained in childhood education, so I quickly run out of ideas. Even stretching (at times to the point of no return) the guidelines for TV and computer screen time, I am still left with a good part of the day with kids teetering on the brink of boredom and all the attendant whining and annoying behavior.
I have come up with exactly one activity that is special enough that the kiddies know if they walk away, it will be weeks or even months before they get another chance at it. One activity that takes up big chunks of time and never ends in tears: playing with play-doh.
Note to Grandmothers: stop reading here.
When we moved from Kentucky, I threw out all of our play-doh. Most of it was a rather spooky grey color, and I didn’t think it would fare too well sitting in storage during the heat of the summer. I didn’t replace the play-doh and thought that maybe the kids had forgotten about it. Then one afternoon Lauren brought home a goodie bag with a little tub of about a quarter of a cup of fake play-doh. That little tub of yellow play-doh was gold in our house, each kid patiently waiting for a turn to squish it and roll it on the table. The whole spectacle became rather pathetic, so when my brother called to see what he should get the kids for Christmas, I told him to get them all play-doh. Since my brother (who has no children) specifically chooses toys that either make a huge mess or a huge amount of noise, play-doh was his kind of present. He did not disappoint them. Between the three kids we got so much play-doh that we had to leave some behind at my parents’ house because I didn’t think I had a place to store it all. I had kept all of the play-doh toys that we had accumulated in Kentucky, so now we have a storage bin of play-doh and play-doh paraphernalia that would satisfy a small preschool.
The kids love to play play-doh, and sometimes after spending an hour playing, they will stop and have lunch and then go back to it for another hour. I used to be a little stressed out when the kids would start smushing all of the different playdoh colors together. How could you make a pink pig if the pink play-doh is streaked with green, purple, and orange? Then I finally realized that kids think the more colors something has, the prettier it is, so now I just open all the little containers and walk away. I don’t go too far though, because they always want to show me what they’ve made, and I don’t want them to have to carry the play-doh all over the house looking for me. Although the play-doh comes out of the rugs now, I hate spotting it weeks after it was dropped, because then I can’t immediately identify what it is (candy? crayon? bug?).
One big reason the kids love play-doh is the play-doh scissors and knives. I hover over them when they use the regular scissors, but they can be as destructive as they want with the playdoh scissors. Usually they work in teams, with one person making shapes and the other chopping them up. They also enjoy pretending that they are making cookies, since the opportunity to use cookie cutters generally only presents itself at Christmas time in our house. The only downside to play-doh is that all of the contraptions that are too hard for a small child to operate. The play-doh “fun factory” which makes spaghetti and other long shapes, has not changed since I was little, and you do need to put some weight on that handle to get the spaghetti out. The fun factory is also hard to clean out, so the kiddies usually need a grown up to pry the moving parts loose from the layer of solidified play-doh. But I’m willing to stop by the play-doh jobsite occasionally and put in a few minutes at the fun factory, because I get a little stretch of quiet time in exchange.
Yes, play-doh is a fine way to pass the time every now and again. But although I’ve made peace with the play-doh, I’d still rather take the kids outside. I’ve got my fingers crossed that no new menaces or pests or diseases pop up (I’m talking to you, bird flu). Once the play-doh becomes old hat, I’m done for.
posted by Shannon at 10:12 PM
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