Pirates and Zombies and Robots, oh, my!

In my search for playful companies, I have found two that just tickle me pink. (Which is good, since I started out a pink-ish color. If they tickled me purple or orange, you might look at me funny.) One is Instructables.com, which posts instructions on how to diy (do it yourself) almost anything. The other is Three Rings, which makes computer games.

So, people at Instructables wrote an instructable on how to launch a pirate attack, and went and launched a pirate attack on Three Rings. Complete with cardboard swords, newspaper hats, and a large piece of plywood labeled The Plank for their victims to walk. Some time later, the Three Rings folks launched a zombie attack at Instructables, where the zombies were intent on eating brains until someone turned on Thriller and everyone started dancing.

I love it!!!! I want to do this. I want to get more companies to do this sort of thing. Is anyone out there running a company bringing people pirate raids and zombie attacks? I want to work for you!

Seriously, this sort of play is great. It makes people laugh, which offers health benefits to the body. It makes people work together to create something, which is great for a team. It lightens the mood, which helps creative ideas flow and lets people try new things. I think this is the kind of thing more companies (heck, other groups too) need to do to stay healthy.

The robots are just in the title because Instructables offers instructions on how to make a robot. And Three Rings has an office that looks like a submarine, complete with a giant squid couch. Awesome!

Laughter is the best medicine

One thing that my Dear Husband brought to our relationship from the very beginning lo these 16 years ago was a great sense of humor. He would make jokes when everything seemed dire to me, and it got me to loosen up a little, and then things got better. Over the years he's rubbed off on me, and now I make jokes when things seem dire to him, and he loosens up a little, and things get better.

Now we have our Dear Son, and tonight when I was soooo frustrated that he wouldn't even pick up the damn (scuse me, darn) train tracks and put them in the fricking basket right in front of him, I started joking. "Does the train track go here?" (I put it on his head.) "No," he laughs, "in the basket." "Oh, not here?" I put it on his knee. Laugh. "No, in the basket." "Ohhh," I say, "in the basket." So I sat in the basket. More laughter. "Not you in the basket, the train tracks in the basket." "Ohh, can you show me?" And thus some, if not all, of the train tracks got into the basket.

Which brings me to: Hospital Clowns.

Bet you didn't even know there was any such thing, did you? I think this is the coolest job ever. Clowns, who go into hospitals, and perform for the kids, pretending to be doctors. They perform kitty cat scans, red nose transplants, check to see if you are seeing spots (by holding up a polka-dotted handkerchief) (Oh, no, it's worse than I thought!). I think this is brilliant. It gives the kids a chance to laugh, which relaxes them, and lets their bodies heal. It gives them a feeling of control and power which they don't have the rest of the time in the hospital. It gives them a feeling of connection which is also lacking in the hospital. It takes their minds off their pain or illness for a while. It makes the families relax and laugh too. Brilliant! And the clowns aren't doctors like Patch Adams, they're performers who care about laughter as a means of connection, not put-downs. In Australia, they have clown doctors in every childrens' hospital in the country. Paid. Here in the 'States, I think it's more volunteer and occasional, not 9-5 M-F clowning for sick kids.

This is play in service to connection and belonging, hope and caring, laughter and joy. Hooray for Hospital Clowns, and all those like them who play for connection!

Tub Time Play with the short one

I often feel like play is a lot of work. Especially when I need to play by my son's rules, which aren't always very clear, and often change. I like helping him build a train track, for example, but driving the trains around the track is boring, and when he doesn't let me move them because I'm not doing it right, it's downright frustrating. DH is great at the kind of play where he chases our son around the house, and I can do that some, but I get tired of it quickly.

But tonight, it was time for a bath, and DS was playing in the water. I sat down next to the tub, and joined in pouring water and suds into his boat. When I couldn't get the suds out of my cup, he washed them out for me. When I put some suds on him, he washed it off himself. We had a very warm, tender, connected time, I didn't feel bored, he didn't correct me (much), and neither of us wanted it to end.

What is the difference? I don't usually take baths or play with boats anywhere, so it's not the things we played with that made it fun. Why was it easier to engage him tonight? Maybe I didn't go into it with any expectations. I tried to meet him where he was, and just be with him. Maybe it was that he didn't have any expectations. He didn't ask me to play with him, he didn't have rules in his head already, so he was open to seeing what we could play together. Maybe the scent of the bubblebath made us both loopy! All I know is that's the kind of play I love, where we are both present, open, a little goofy, smiling and laughing a lot, loving a lot, enjoying each other a lot.

Play, it's the new work

So, I'm discovering that I feel the most joyful and connected and buoyant and myself when I'm playing and being creative. That, in fact, play and creativity can make room for things that need room to show up, like lightness and love and acceptance. And that I want to figure out how I can do that for a living. So, I want to study play a little. Talk to people who play. Find out how play can make work better, not just as a way to make the day suck a little less, but as a way to build community, increase work efficiency, and keep employees happy. If anyone has any ideas of anyone I could talk to about this, I would be indebted to you if you would share!

I have found out about a book called Play: How It Shapes The Brain, Opens The Imagination, and Invigorates The Soul, written by Stuart Brown, MD. I really want to read it, since this seems to be very much in line with my experience of play as essential to my emotional well-being. I have also been told about a book called Playing By Heart, The Vision And Practice Of Belonging, by Fred Donaldson. I think that aspect of play, the belonging and connection, are part of what calls me. Again, a book I want to read. Seems like a trip to a library and/or bookstore are coming up this week!

So, how do you play? I think that's something I want to explore too. What is play for me? I don't like a lot of games. I do like dancing, exploring ideas, being silly, roughhousing with my son, and the kind of game that promotes laughing more than winning. I don't want to have to figure out a lot of complicated rules, and I think the best play happens organically without a lot of rules ahead of time. Maybe that's why I don't often learn how to craft before jumping in, because I want it to unfold organically. Which means I'll never make a sweater I can wear. But I know that some people really enjoy games with lots of rules, and that playing those games makes them happy. So that's interesting, how play is different for different people, and how play can separate people and bring them together.

How To Be The Parent I Want To Be?

So, I've been feeling for a while that I'm going about this parenting thing all wrong, but I don't know what to do about it. My dilemma is this: I want to parent all touchy-feely, taking my son's feelings into consideration, including him in solutions to our problems, making him feel like a valued and important part of our family. Instead, I'm treating him like I'm trying to break a wild horse.

I know compliance is important. It's not ok for my DS to run off, like he did at the zoo last week when he made it most of the way to the trains before I found him. He needs to know to stop when I tell him to stop, to stay with me, to follow directions. But I hate that the way to get him to do things is to punish. On the other hand, no punishing, no following rules. I don't feel like any of my discussions have any effect.

I'm going to muse on this some more. If there's anyone out there with an idea, please let me know!

Poop Stinks

Somehow, poop got into our washing machine. It could be that a grownup didn't realize there was poop in the short one's pants when we put them into the wash. It could be that the short one emptied his potty into the washing machine instead of the toilet. It could be that the short one didn't want us to know he had pooped in his pants so he put them into the washing machine with poop still in them.

However it happened, I didn't know about it until I had finished a load of laundry. I opened the door to put the clothes in the dryer, and said, what's this? I found a paper towel, picked up the soggy, squishy thing, and realized it was a turd. The rubber catcher in the front of my front-loader had a bunch more little turds. So I thought, these clothes need to be washed again, if they were washed with poop, so I put them through again. And again, when I opened the door, there was more poop in the rubber catcher thingie.

So, after I cleared out the rest of the (soggy, stinky) poop, I tried my favorite deodorizing strategy - I washed the clothes with vinegar. They still smelled like poop. So I washed them with my wimpy safe-for-the-environment bleach. Still stinky. At this point I've looked on line to find out how to deodorize my washing machine, and went out to get borax. I ran the machine with borax and hot water, and nothing else. At least I now knew the washing machine wasn't adding stink to clothes. I also ran my contaminated load with borax and detergent, to get the stink out.

When that didn't work, I soaked them overnight in a bathtub full of hot water and borax. Since I have a front loader, they can't soak very effectively inside the washing machine. In the morning, the water was black, my brand-new black top was less black, but at least the smell was less. So I ran them again through the washing machine, and this time even dried them.

At this point, I was smelling poop everywhere. It's like paranoia for the nose. I couldn't tell if I was imagining the smell on the clothes, since I thought I smelled poop in the living room, in the car, by my desk, just about everywhere. So I asked my hubby when he got home if he smelled poop. He did.

We researched more things we could try, including an enzyme solution found in pet stores. So I went to a pet store to get it. They suggested I use it twice in a row, which I did. When we pulled it out, my DH (that's Dear Husband) smelled some underpants and declared them poop free. He handed me a towel, and I agreed. So into the drier they went, except for my new shirt and a shirt of his. But when I sniffed my shirt, it smelled a little bit poopy.

Now, my DH pointed out that I had to sniff very hard to smell the poop, but what if it's like perfume, the scent gets stronger as your skin warms up? I could go for a walk and attract every dog in the neighborhood. But I don't know if there's anything else I can do. When the rain lets up, I might try to hang the shirt outside and let it air out, and hope the neighborhood pets leave it alone. Some day I hope to look back on this and laugh. Right now, I hope I don't have to throw away my brand new shirt.

BTW, when I asked my DS (Dear Son, aka The Short One) if he put the poop in the washing machine, he said no, a bad guy did it. I hope, after washing the same clothes eight times, six of them without poop, he realizes he shouldn't do it again. If, that is, he was the bad guy.

Hello, Blogspace!

Hello Blogspace!

I've decided that, since I'm spending so much time farting around on the internet, I should start my own blog. (Yes, you can change "farting" to "f******," but do you know how much asterisks are going for these days? Besides, since I had a kid, I've been cleaning up my language. Don't want my almost four year old to start spouting words like "f***." I'd have to pay for more asterisks.)

Why, you might ask, do I want a blog, when I have facebook? That's a good question. It's because, um, well you see, uh, I don't know. Oh, wait, that's it - if I post things you don't want to read on FB you might unfriend me. If I post things you don't want to read on a blog you don't know about, you can keep me as a friend and I can continue to believe I'm popular.

What will I write about? My almost four year old will probably figure prominently. And whatever detritus is in my head. My head is a scary place, and shouldn't be visited without a group of friends, so you, dear invisible and very likely non-existent readers, will be my posse, my troops, my backup. Wait, where are you going? I can also post things that might be vaguely interesting - storage ideas, makeup solutions, how to be a grownup without being a responsible adult, how to get poop smell out of clothes... but that's another post.