Chalk and Cheese Chronicles

Jedi Training Academy: Trading Mouse Ears for Lightsabers

Mickey Mouse has delighted millions of children for generations. He and his endearing ears are iconic to Disneyland.

He is cute.

Yet for all the things Mickey Mouse represents, to my boys this beloved character is more defined by what he is not.

He is not Luke.

He is not Anakin.

He is not Darth.

He is not a guy with a lightsaber.

When we visited Disneyland last month, my boys blew past the Mickey this and the Mickey that. They poo poo'd anything with a princess on it. They pronounced the Winnie the Pooh ride as "for babies." The only other character at Disneyland to give them pause was good old Buzz Lightyear and his futuristic zapper. They love Buzz, but they love and fear Darth.

This year, in 2009, it's all about Star Wars.

My boys are obsessed. It began small, in preschool, then quickly blossomed into a full-blown obsession.

I don't fuel the obsession by showing them Star Wars or Clone Wars movies. But I do indulge them with the occasional Star Wars Lego set or Star Wars action figure...oh, and I might have shown them a You Tube video (or ten!) of children at the Disneyland Jedi Training Academy.

How Do You Tell Them Apart?

Hop on over to Mad About Multiples and let us know what works for you!

Elf on the Shelf

Elf on the Shelf here. Just back from a seasonal gig at some crazy Silicon Valley house. I had to monitor two boys, age 4 - twins! The mom picked me up as an impulse buy at her neighborhood toy store. It was a rocky start from the moment she lifted me out of my tidy and quiet little box. She said, "He's so tiny. I thought he'd be bigger."

Hello? I'm an elf, a person of diminutive stature. What was she expecting, a Santa sized elf? Man!

Back at her home, I toppled from the various places she tried to put me. I wanted to scream, Try the shelf! I'm Elf on the Shelf, remember? That first night, I ended up at the top of the Christmas tree from which the view was great except that my eyes are permanently glancing to the right. I need to look like I'm studying the children and not the boring ceiling. Fortunately, it was night time when I first met the children and nobody noticed my wayward gaze. They stared up at me as if I were real. One of them snapped my picture.

The following day, the mom moved me to the top of a heavy picture frame. Again, I had a great view but my eyes were fixated on the window. It hardly gives me credibility with children if I can't make eye contact with them. I made a mental note to stop by Santa's workshop and ask for some posable eyes. Wonder if that would creep the children out if I could follow them with my eyes?

One of the boys stood on tiptoe to get a better look at me. Then he insulted me by asking if I were "just a toy." While I was reeling from that remark, the other boy hurled another one by asking why I didn't have feet or shoes. (Actually, I hadn't noticed and now it does bother me a little.) The mom didn't even bother to make up a story. Do you know what she did? She agreed. She told her son he was right and that it was strange that I didn't have feet. Then she told her Twitter friends about me, the shoeless elf, and a friend wisely replied that elves don't need shoes because they fly! It's obvious my household did not read my book or they would have remembered I fly to the North Pole while the children are sleeping to report on good and bad behavior. I don't need shoes to fly, now do I?

I then spent the next few nights moving all about the house. The mom insisted upon placing me out of reach even though children know that if they touch me, I lose my magic. She even tried placing me atop the vanity mirror in the bathroom but couldn't get me to stay still and moved me out of there, thank God. There was one night when I worried I wouldn't be moved at all until the mom suddenly remembered and jumped out of bed to find me a new spot at 3 in the morning.

A couple of times, I was day dreaming when I heard my name being screamed. The mom was a little upset, "The Elf saw that! He'll tell Santa and you'll get no presents!" Wow - someone was really having naughty behavior that day and I almost didn't catch it.

Sometimes the mother couldn't get the story straight and said, "Santa is watching." Well, that's sort of true. He's watching, but only with the help of the elf minions who work down in the trenches. Without us, Santa wouldn't know a thing. He'd give presents to the naughty and coal to the nice if it weren't for us.

There was one day when the boys were being particularly naughty and I started to feel sorry for the mother. She tries with them, she really does but sometimes those boys are just out of control. I noticed that the mom says things in desperation, trying to evoke good behavior. I almost laughed when she told her kids that not only was I watching, but so, too, were Santa, Santa's cameras, the Grinch, the Gruffalo (who the heck is he?) and someone called karma. As if we all work as a team - yeah, right. I've never even met the Grinch.

I was kept busy writing down names on my list. Both boys leaped from the naughty column to the nice column and back again. On days when the boys were cranky from hunger or fatigue, my presence would only result in a temporary reform in their behavior. Sometimes, the boys would look up at me, consider their actions and go right back to doing what it was they weren't supposed to be doing. Other times, especially in the freshness of morning, the boys would immediately halt the offending behavior and apologize with sincerity.

The best part of the day was always in the morning when the children would wake up and come looking for me. I almost giggled out loud from my perch next to the children's beds when they ran out of the room without noticing me. I would play hide-n-go seek all day if I could.

I hitched a ride back to the North Pole with Santa when he came to bring presents to the boys I'd been monitoring. While I'd love to boast that my presence greatly improved behavior, I'll admit that I only helped things out some of the time. Then why did Santa come? Well, I actually grew to love the little boys in my temporary home and so I, um, cheated. I used a pencil when making my lists and let's just say I did a bit of erasing while on the job. Every child deserves presents.

Original post to Chalk and Cheese Chronicles. Akemi intends to go to Michaels to pick up some little shoes and some stick on googly eyes for the elf when he returns before Christmas next year.

Evolution of a Mom Bag

My longtime friend Lisa and I carry identical backpacks. I'm sure she wouldn't exactly disagree that although we both aspire to be minimally fashionable, we sometimes fail miserably (well, I probably should speak for myself), our sense of practicality trumping our sense of fashion. We know that we look like side-by-side dorks when we're out together, marching into a coffee shop in our mom uniforms of matching brown backpacks and comfortable workout clothes. We've tried out other backpacks, purses and such, but we always go back to our matching backpacks, back to the tried and true. And when we do, it can get confusing. Sometimes, I will run off with her backpack thinking it's mine; other times, she will rifle through mine looking for something of hers (usually her wallet or cell phone). Look closely, however, and all is not the same. While she prefers to toss her wallet into the depths of the roomy main compartment, I prefer to slip mine into the discreet zippered pocket along the back panel. But we agree that the smaller, outer pocket is the ideal place to keep our lipsticks close at hand. We know what's important here.

When I was a new mom nervously venturing out with two babies, I'd gone the sylish route, accessorizing my double stroller with diaper bags by Fleureville or Skip*Hop. I eschewed what I deemed to be an ordinary diaper bag. I knew I wasn't a cool mom, but thought a cool looking diaper bag might be a step in that direction. I even purchased a Baby Sherpa diaper bag which, with its pockets within pockets, had me hoping I'd be soon be zipping my way to an organized life. However, all of these bags just didn't work for me as a mom of twins. Most diaper bags are made to house the travel essentials of just one baby, not two. If a mom of a singleton carried two changes of clothes for her baby, I needed four changes and so on. These bags simply didn't work for me as a mom of twins. Besides, I could never get the straps of those diaper bags to stretch the length between the handlebars of my double stroller. I always had to hang it lamely off just one side.