Toddler Tricks - 100: Use the Library

Problem: It's summer time and it's hot and you don't have $35 to blow on the movies, or rollerskating, or bowling, or whatever fun-filled, spend-all-your-wages-here, activities advertised by businesses. You're all pooled out, and the park is like a desert. What do you do?


Solution: I don't know about your library, but ours does free stuff. ALl the time. Every week you can find some random thing going on at the library--almost all of them kid-based. Last year we saw jugglers there, and the girls talked about it for months. At some point there is going to be a yo-yo champion show, and this last week, we saw a music show there.





Now as you can see, it wasn't a flashy, totally overwhelming show of musical delight.It was actually a young guy with his old bass and a drum he made out of a suitcase. And it was awesome. The girls loved it. They paid attention and learned about tuning and how instruments make music with interest. They were able to play the instruments (but not the kazoo. I wouldn't let them touch the kazoo.) It was 90 minutes of fun for them and me. In the cool.

And even when the library isn't pulling out all the homemade-instrument stops, they do story times at least once a week for the kids. And if nothing is going on, well, so be it. Go anyway. Read the stories yourself! My kids love the library, and so do I. I'm thankful I stuck with it after all those dicey visits when they were younger (and LOUD).
 

An Open Letter to Parents Checking Out Library DVDs

Dear PCOLDVDs,

Is it really necessary to run a chainsaw over the discs before returning them to the library? I mean, I get it. I have two three-year-old girls. Things happen. Sometimes a scratch is inevitable. But even if there are scores of us eagerly awaiting returns so that we can gain a few minutes of peace here and there with the aid of a free movie or show collection, the discs shouldn't look like they've been chewed on. Seriously.

It's to the point where the girls and I check out five DVDs at a time in the hopes that one of them will play at least halfway through before stopping entirely. Skips, freezes and pauses don't even phase us anymore. If that DVD is playing at all, even haltingly, we are thankful.

And I know now not to hype up any DVD we take out. Because it won't play. They never do.

So, in the interest of all of us, I thought I'd post a little how-to. This will help you, other parents and children, and the librarians with librarian degrees.

How to play a DVD from the library that other people will eventually also want to use:

1) Open the case. Stick your thumb in the indentation, and pry open. Don't use too much force. You want it to pop open, not spring. You don't want the DVD to come flying out.

2) Press the popper in the middle of the DVD case down gently with your thumb. This should loosen the DVD.

3) Insert your thumb into the hole, and wrap your fingers around the outside of the thin rim. Wait! Not too much. You don't want your fingerprints on the bottom of the disc. You see, that's where the disc's information is.

4) Open your DVD player by pressing the on button, then the eject button. No! Not with the hand holding the DVD. Use the other hand.

5) Carefully place the DVD (shiny side down!) into your player, then press the eject button again (you can use either hand this time).

Your DVD should be ready to play!

Here are some things you should not do:

- DON'T let your child play with the DVD.
- NO sitting on the DVD, scraping the DVD against the wall, floor, dollhouse or toybox.
- REMEMBER, DVDs are not paper for coloring!
- DVDs are not Frisbees.
- DON'T take your DVD outside. It's an inside toy.

A few reminders:

- Keep DVD away from power tools.
- Tape and scissors are not appropriate around DVDs.
- DVDs are not mirrors.
- They're also not nail filers.
- Although it will be tempting, don't use your DVDs as plateware. On that note, remember, DVDs are not food. Don't let your children chew on them.

Most importantly, if you have accidentally ruined your borrowed DVD, it's okay! Things happen. Have some decency and report it to the librarian instead of putting it back on the shelf, please.

Using this as an instructional tool, I feel confident we can all start borrowing DVDs from the library with the confidence that they will work as intended when we get them home.

I thank you for your cooperation,




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A Mother's Letter of Explanation

Dear Library Patron,

The other day, as you may recall, my toddlers and I had what I consider to be a very successful trip to the library.  I understand you do not agree.  I know you are far removed from this world in which I live and must think that taking two-year-old twins to the library is a disastrous idea.  I don't necessarily disagree, especially given the tantrums and all-out misbehaving I've experienced there in the past.

However, on this day, my babies were well behaved and happy, truly the best you could ask for out of them when placed in a building with such strict rules.  It's true, they don't yet understand the concept of quiet, but they certainly weren't being purposefully disruptive, nor were they ever at top-volume.  I absolutely understand your need for complete silence as you worked on your brilliant masterpiece, or whatever it was you were doing.  Might I suggest that next time you not sit directly in front of the children's DVD section?

I don't expect everyone to find my children cute, not do I expect them to stop what they are doing to cater to babies.  But the girls should not have been bothering you in any way. They are two.  They forget, sometimes, to whisper.  We were only there for 30 minutes.  If you weren't keen on hearing the alphabet three times during that half hour, you certainly could have moved.  Why would you choose to sit so closely to the kids' section?  In fact, if what you were doing was so important, why did you choose a library with a kids' section at all?

I'm not saying you should go out of your way and make more work for yourself because I'm not willing to bend a little.  I understand your position.  It's not fair to expect you to have to find a library with no kids' section simply because you want to read in peace and quiet, simply because you want to use a library as it was intended.

I'm not saying I'm right, and I don't expect people to change their lives to accommodate me.  I do, however, expect a certain courtesy when I manage to wrangle my twins out of the house, and they manage to behave themselves.

I'm saying that it is impossible to keep two kids of this age completely silent while I pick out some books and videos for them.  Please understand, if it were possible for me to have them be "seen and not heard" I would have done so.  However, to do as you wished would have resulted in screaming, crying, as I bullied them out of the library.  I assure you, that scenario would have been far more disturbing to you than the seldom giggle and the random counts to ten.  To appease a toddler, one must go very slowly and make each move with a strategic game-plan in mind.  I can promise you that from the moment we set foot into that library, my main goal was to get us back out the door.

I was honestly hurt when you came stalking over to us, intending to tell us off.  I was incredibly thankful that I accidentally averted that situation by telling my kids we were going to leave before I saw you.  When you heard that sentence and snarled "YEAH, LEAVE" my heart sank.  And here I'd thought it was a successful journey.

But, really, as I hung my head and hustled my girls out of there, I became more and more indignant.  As if I do not have it hard enough, having to constantly battle the will of two toddlers.  As if I had not kept them completely under control and happy that entire time.  You, sir, would berate me as a mother, would allow your annoyance to get the better of you so as to interrupt what you were doing simply to scold me?  What purpose do you feel that would have served?  Would you have felt better, bullying a mother and her two daughters, when you, yourself, chose to sit immediately to the left of the row of Dora DVDs? 

I guess as much as the twins were a bother to you, they seconded as a help to your cause.  Because had I not been weighed down by two little hands heading toward the parking lot, I'd have turned around and told you about yourself.

The point of this letter is this: mothers and children exist.  We do not expect you to give us special treatment.  We do expect that you make your own life easier and move away from the space designated specifically for us.  Had you been in the reference section, or the literature section, or the computer section, or any other of the half dozen adult sections in that library, we would never have had the misfortune of disgruntling you.  You sat in the children's section.

I owe you no apology.

Sincerely,

The mother of twins you cut down in the library


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SHH - This is the Library

I have a proposed change for the library.  Move the kids' corner.  It needs to be near the door - right next to the door, in fact.  Is there any good reason why the kids' section is always in some far off corner toward the back?  I understand wanting to keep it as far from the real library as possible, but making toddlers walk through endless aisles of books and movies and manuever their way past kiosks and study desks just to get to the cardboard-paged picture books?  It seems counter-productive to me.

Sure, it's all smiles and giggles and "aren't they so cute!" on the way there.  Those love-filled looks from the other patrons slowly simmer down, though, as the twins talk just a little to loud, throw just one too many books, and grab just one too many CDs out of the bin that shouldn't be there in the first place.  My heart melts when I hear them reciting the alphabet using the cues from the letter rug under their feet.  Other people, seated far too close, are less enchanted.

But the real reason the section should not be in the back corner is the knock-down, drag-out tantrums that occur whenever we try to leave.  I'm sure there are many parents who have little angels that love to leave a fun place.  I am not one of those lucky parents.  Whether they're yelling about who gets to hold the new Dora DVD, or freaking out about who's sticker is bigger, or simply flopping around and running away so that we magically don't have to leave, the five minutes it takes me to physically wrench them into the parking lot never fail to be the most humiliating of my week. 

Until you've carried two screaming, wriggling, 30-pound, two year olds - one under each arm - through miles and miles of aisles filled with books and "Be Quiet" signs, while what seems like thousands of other library patrons stare at you, mouths agape in horror, you haven't lived.

I'm not kidding when I tell you that often librarians descend upon me, as if to lend a helping hand.  The hand never helps though.  Now I just get to make my football-hold trek with an audience of three helpless adults staring on, wishing I'd never entered their sacred space - and that's in addition to the flustered patrons.

Simply put, having the kids' section in the back corner is not practical.  If the section were near the door, I would be able to do my business and leave with minimal fuss.  The checkout desk would be right there.  The babies wouldn't even notice as I slipped the librarian our books and videos one at a time and then hid them in my purse.  If anyone got too loud, I could guide them outside, not in a frenzied, embarrassed rush, but as part of a game.

"Look babies!  Let's check out the sidewalk cracks!"  And off we'd go, whether or not we returned depending on their mood.

The only reason I can see for not doing this is that parents who perhaps have children a bit older than mine may want to peruse the library's stock on their own while their children play in their own little area.  It's safer in that case to have the section in the back.  Still, if one has a child who is likely to wander outside if left alone, perhaps that kid is not ready to be left alone after all.

All I know is that based on my experiences having the kids' area in the back of the library only ends in tears - for everybody there.


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Toddler Logic

As my twins and I got ready to walk to the library, I handed them each a hat. As I handed Dulce her hat, I realized that it was slightly smaller than Natalina’s hat, but it was the only one left within arm’s reach, and I wanted to get going as soon as possible, so I put it on her head and off we went.

This was a mistake.

As we started down the first stretch of road, Dulce started fiddling with her hat. It was too small for her liking. She noticed that it didn’t cover her ears, whereas Natalina’s hat did. So, while I’m proud of myself for having seen this problem ahead of time, I still ignored it at the time, and now we still had a mile and a half to walk to the library, and a mile and a half back – all with a hat not quite to Dulce’s liking.

The way there was not so bad. A walk humming with the repeated sound of “hat, hat, hat, hat, hat, hat.” The way back provided a meltdown the likes of which I had not seen since, well, yesterday.

As adults, we’ve learned to ignore the crucial, tiny conversations our mind has with itself over every decision we make throughout the day. Most of the scenarios our unconscious goes through are unlikely, many don’t make sense, and in almost all of them the protests our mind quickly comes up with and discards can and will be ignored for the greater goal. This process becomes so quick, in fact, that we no longer register it. We begin to assume that making as decision is a simple one-step process. Until, that is, we become parents.

I’m still no expert at this toddler logic, but at least now I recognize which tiny part of my logical process didn’t line up with the baby’s idea. That puts me at least three steps ahead of where I was before becoming a stay at home mom. Step 1: break your decisions up into the shards they really are. Step 2: pay attention to each shard as if it is actually important. Step 3: try to determine how your toddler will view this shard of this decision in five minutes.

So, to further exemplify: as I reached for the blue hat that was slightly smaller than the multi-colored hat her sister was wearing, my mind thought, in this order: This hat is blue. It might not have enough color for her. (Overruled, said the adult. It matches her outfit.) This hat is slightly smaller than her sister’s. It won’t cover her ears in the same way. (Overruled, said the adult. Why do her ears need to be covered? We live in Florida.) She hesitated when taking this hat. She probably doesn’t like it and is just excited to get out of the house. I should probably get her another hat. (Overruled, said the adult. The other hats are in another room, and I am also anxious to get out of the house.) All of this discussion in my mind, boiled down to: we’re going out; the babies need hats.

Toddler brains work differently than an adult brain. They put emphasis in places where emphasis simply should not go. They will get tied up in a little detail that you can’t see, so that even when you fix the overall picture, they’re still upset because it’s not the overall picture they’re seeing. So that no matter how many times I adjusted her hat to cover her ears, it was still no use. I still hadn’t procured her another hat. I still hadn’t picked the right hat in the first place.

The easiest way to avoid all this is to offer them choices. Even if they choose something you wouldn’t have expected, something that doesn’t make sense to you, they have chosen something that makes sense to them, something that they will be happy with. And a happy baby means a happy parent.

A Lesson in Leaving

It’s hot here in Florida during the summertime, but I didn’t let that stop me as I dressed in chic jeans and heels preparing to take my twin toddlers to the library for the first time. The 1.5-mile walk seemed just the right distance for a strollered stroll when we were inside our air-conditioned home.


First, let me say that I only got one blister, and it didn't show up until halfway there. Huzzah. However, not only was I wearing jeans, I'd also dressed Natalina in jeans, and, seeing as it was probably 95 degrees, this was borderline cruel of me.

We finally get to the library - Dulce, Natalina and I - sweaty messes all. I sign up for a card, roll the stroller to the kids’ corner, and we start to play. There are two other children there; the girl is probably five, the boy, probably three. I think, “Great! My kids will get to play with some other kids.” Unfortunately, that’s not really how it turned out.

Natalina kept trying to give the boy a book which he would swat out of her hands. I didn’t like that, but I kept my mouth shut. What can you really say to a three year old you don’t know? Then, I turned around for a moment, and he pushed Dulce to the ground. So I picked her up and couldn’t help but give the little boy a look - a look meant for an adult, a look meant for an adult who has just knowingly and intentionally hurt you or someone you love. I know that wasn’t right of me, but I really couldn't help it. He pushed my kid. He pushed her on purpose. He also kept throwing books, and my girls saw this and started throwing books. I had to tell them, “No, even though that baby is throwing books, we cannot throw books."

I pulled some grapes out of my purse that I'd brought for the babies, feeling like super-mom because I’d remembered to bring a snack. I quickly learned, though, that grapes are like gold to other people’s children. Those other people’s children ate most of my grapes. Where were all the adults who were supposed to be watching these scamps anyway?

It was finally time to leave. I don't know if you've ever tried to tell a toddler that it's time to leave a great new place where they are having fun, but it’s not easy. Compound that with forcing them back into their stroller, and, well, it just doesn’t go over well. This particular time, it went over screamingly badly, in fact.

I was mortified. We were in a library. There were regular people there minding their own business, trying to read. My kids not only screamed at the top of their lungs for minutes-that-seemed-like-days on end, they also struggled so that it looked as if I were beating them into submission. I have never been more embarrassed in my life.

The librarians were nice about it, but I was almost in tears, telling the babies that we would never come back here again and telling other patrons how sorry we were. The librarians said, “Well, that's what we get for combining a kids' library with an adult library. We expect this. Don't worry. Get out of the house. Come back to the library. It will be better next time.”

I decided never to go there again. The librarians, though, were right. It was better next time. It was better because I was prepared. I told the babies over and over again, “No crying when we leave the library. We can go to the library now, but only if you don’t cry when we leave. We are going to go to the library, and then we are going to leave the library, and you are not going to cry. No crying when we leave the library.”

I can’t believe it, but the broken record of warnings worked. We’re now regulars at the library, and everybody knows not to cry. We also wear shorts.