So, here are a few notes I made for myself when brainstorming for emergency homeschooling - no complete thoughts here, but perhaps it will spark something for you (or for me to flesh out!)
chill the f out
routine vs schedule
neighborhood community/support
chores
you are useful you are appreciated you are notice you are an important member of the family
acting things out, making up stories
make videos?
whereto find how to pick educational videos - kanopy
david attanbough, crash course
read aloud
make stuff - art, write, comic books (both)
exercise - dance party, hoolahoop!, juggling, poi,
audio books (librivox, library, hoopla,
hand work/ crafts - crochet, knit, art, weaving
scheduling
math (place values) real life - money, cooking, books -beast acadamy, a o ps, math u see (videos)
legos
games
creativity
library - what do they have at your local one? free stuff, e stuff
virtual museums
google
nature watching
music - practice an instrument, chord charts, free songs
art - so many links!
google map games, geoguesser
languages duolingo, muffy,
science - how does soap work? what is a virus?
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
Where to start when emergency homeschooling?
I've been postponing this post because I didn't know where to start, and then I thought, well, neither does anyone else. This is a crazy situation, one that no one alive in this country has faced before.
So, for my friend who is stuck at home with a 6yo....
How do you get through these first few days of COVID19 social distancing/shelter in place/quarantine?
Again, ease in to this, and consider this first bit (and maybe all of this) as enrichment rather than "school". School is boring, enrichment is fun and interesting.
Think about the difference between a routine and a schedule.
A schedule has a specific time at with specific things need to be done. It's great when you're trying to coordinate people who have busy lives and other things going on. It keeps you on track and helps you be accountable to other people. It's not so great when you're in a flow, immersed in an activity and you don't have anywhere else you need to be.
A routine, on the other hand, is a series of actions that you do almost habitually. Rise, let the dog out, eat, brush your teeth, wash your hands after the using the toilet, etc. A routine is flexible and also easy to remember because you do what you've always done.
When homeschooling, a routine is much easier to manage than a schedule. You need a schedule for things like lessons and appointments, stuff outside the home. You're not going to have those right now, so think instead about how to create functional routines that will meet everyone's needs.
Exercise - build this into your routines, and do something more than once a day
When my boys were young they would often bicker, and when they made me crazy, I'd give them laps to do around the yard. They always came back united in their resentment towards me, and a little less grumpy, so win/win!
If your child is like mine were at that age the first thing you need to do is to give their physical energy somewhere to go. Seriously, children (and adults) are much nicer when well exercised. Hey, and join in if you can
Some ideas:
jump rope
calisthenics
dance party!
trampoline if you have one
jumping on the bed if you don't (bail is way more than a new mattress will be when this is all over)
bike ride
hoola hoop
yoga
video workouts
Google for indoor exercise for kids, yoga, dance, etc.. you name it, it's out there.
Get onto Facebook and look for groups that fit your kids interest, during this crisis most gyms are shutting down and many are offering free videos and live stream workouts on their pages.
Pinterest is another place to find ideas.
So, for my friend who is stuck at home with a 6yo....
How do you get through these first few days of COVID19 social distancing/shelter in place/quarantine?
Again, ease in to this, and consider this first bit (and maybe all of this) as enrichment rather than "school". School is boring, enrichment is fun and interesting.
Think about the difference between a routine and a schedule.
A schedule has a specific time at with specific things need to be done. It's great when you're trying to coordinate people who have busy lives and other things going on. It keeps you on track and helps you be accountable to other people. It's not so great when you're in a flow, immersed in an activity and you don't have anywhere else you need to be.
A routine, on the other hand, is a series of actions that you do almost habitually. Rise, let the dog out, eat, brush your teeth, wash your hands after the using the toilet, etc. A routine is flexible and also easy to remember because you do what you've always done.
When homeschooling, a routine is much easier to manage than a schedule. You need a schedule for things like lessons and appointments, stuff outside the home. You're not going to have those right now, so think instead about how to create functional routines that will meet everyone's needs.
Exercise - build this into your routines, and do something more than once a day
When my boys were young they would often bicker, and when they made me crazy, I'd give them laps to do around the yard. They always came back united in their resentment towards me, and a little less grumpy, so win/win!
If your child is like mine were at that age the first thing you need to do is to give their physical energy somewhere to go. Seriously, children (and adults) are much nicer when well exercised. Hey, and join in if you can
Some ideas:
jump rope
calisthenics
dance party!
trampoline if you have one
jumping on the bed if you don't (bail is way more than a new mattress will be when this is all over)
bike ride
hoola hoop
yoga
video workouts
Google for indoor exercise for kids, yoga, dance, etc.. you name it, it's out there.
Get onto Facebook and look for groups that fit your kids interest, during this crisis most gyms are shutting down and many are offering free videos and live stream workouts on their pages.
Pinterest is another place to find ideas.
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Chill, it's going to be ok
Folks out there are going to be spending a lot more time with their kids than they expected in the next weeks. Us homeschoolers (and former homeschoolers) might have a bit of an advantage.
Although, to be fair, it's not the advantage I expected to have back when I envisioned the apocalypse.
So, I will try to share some of my thoughts and opinions. They're worth exactly what you're paying for them. If they don't work for you, that's fine.
There is an emotional content to learning that is more important than technique, theory, or materials
There are no educational emergencies. No one will die if little Susie hasn't memorized her time tables or Timmy doesn't know how to read by the end of the season.
There is an emotional content to learning that is more important than technique, theory, or materials
There are no educational emergencies. No one will die if little Susie hasn't memorized her time tables or Timmy doesn't know how to read by the end of the season.
Humans learn, all the time, like it or not. It's what we do.
Everything is learning.
Homeschooling is really just parenting. Sending your kid to school is just outsourcing some parts of parenting, which is fine. (Seriously, I'd outsource pregnancy if I could. pregger => 4/10 do not recommend, but the baby is nice)
School at home is not homeschooling, and school at home sucks for all involved, so maybe let up on that
Try to think about this time as fun enrichment, not make or break, not high stakes.
You're a coach, and a cheerleader, not a professor.
Follow your kids interest, strew, explore, ask your student what their goals are and what they're curious about. Luckily, even if we can't leave our homes, with the internet and web, we have the world at our finger tips.
You matter too, so be sure to organize so that you get done what you need to and still stay sane. More on this later, but a friend once told me "If you're not using the TV as a babysitter, you're doing it wrong. That's what it's FOR" There's a time and place for electronics and that time is most certainly when a parent needs a break. Don't beat the children.
I'll try to post every couple of days to answer some questions for a friend w/ a precocious 6 1/2 year old, but until I get to all those, you could take a peak at some older stuff.
I've written a lot about homeschooling, so you can check that out. My friend J asked about our eclectic unschooly ways several years ago and I answered her here. You can check out the pages over there in the side bar. They were up to date a decade ago, but if I get some motivation I might fix the broken links.
I've written a lot about homeschooling, so you can check that out. My friend J asked about our eclectic unschooly ways several years ago and I answered her here. You can check out the pages over there in the side bar. They were up to date a decade ago, but if I get some motivation I might fix the broken links.
Wednesday, April 3, 2019
Surviving adolescence (theirs)
14/15 is an .... interesting age for my boys.
Bit-Boy despised us for a while, in a pretty low-key way, especially after I had a talk with him about not challenging the silver-back. At 20 he's back to thinking maybe his folks are ok.
Lego Kid, man, 15 was a killer for me. He felt that I personally had ruined his life in every possible way, starting from birth until that very moment. He also seems to have gotten over it (mostly),
And now, now it's Hot Dog's turn. He's at the stage where he needs to be exactly opposite of whatever it is I am. The other week he informed me that he is not a Unitarian Universalist. I think I disappointed him, when as a good UU parent, I remained nonchalant. His religion (or lack there of) is his business. UU's think God is big enough to take it. Then a couple of nights ago he informed me that he will register as a Republican when it's time. He looked defiant and hopeful. When I agreed with the rational he shared, I disappointed him again. I think he expected me to swoon, or swear, or something. (Imagining me making the sign of the cross and backing away from him fearfully perhaps?)
Then this afternoon on the way home from track practice...
I love that look of disgust on your teen's face when they realize that not only is Mom not shocked with your choice of music, but it is her jam.
And she can thrash, and will, while driving, you, in public.
Honey, I LIVED through the 80's. Nothing you do is likely to shock or embarrass me.
You've got to
fight
for the right
to
par-tay!
for the right
to
par-tay!
Monday, January 25, 2016
Cancer treatment - the gift that keeps on giving
It is January. It's cold, dreary, and full of frozen yuck.
Four years ago this month, in January 2012, I was diagnosed with Stage III breast cancer. It was not the worst time of my life, but it was close. My reality changed irrevocably.
I spend that entire year undergoing cancer treatment. It wasn't as hellish as you might think, mostly due to good drugs, and even better friends and family. I had at least 4 or 5 surgeries, months of chemo and radiation. I find there are many bits I don't remember. Watching a video, Firelord will say "We've seen that", but it seems new to me. The kids will mention something they did, and I have little to no recollection of the incident. I remember taking trips to Steamboat, meeting my cousins in Yellowstone, girls night in our basement. I remember over a hundred meals being brought to our house. I don't remember suffering too much - then.
I suffered more the year after. That year I was supposed to be relieved and grateful. My hair started to grow back. My chemo-yellow skin pinked up. I looked "normal". But I didn't feel normal. I wasn't what I had been. I needed to sit more, and more often. My words stuttered and fell unspoken. My short term memory was no longer sufficient for many every day activities. I had constant pain, not just from the surgeries, but from peripheral neuropathy.
I looked fine. I was expected to get back to "normal" life. I consistently let people down with my inability to meet expectations - myself most of all.
I tried to tell folks, but no one wanted to hear it. I learned that the only acceptable response to "How are you?" is "fine". If I told my truth I was "complaining" and after all, "You're alive, right?" Which was funny, since alive hurts a hell of a lot and didn't always seem to be worth the price I was paying.
Just before one of the surgeries the nurse asked "DNR?" to which Firelord shouted "NO!" He told me "You don't get to choose, you have kids." I wasn't allowed to survive for me. I didn't survive for me. I survived for my kids. To do otherwise was too selfish to be allowed. Because I was a mother I allowed myself to suffer the torture that is cancer treatment.
Of all the things a cancer patient is supposed to be, selfish isn't one of them. Cancer patients should be warriors, bravely battling. Cancer survivors should be happy, grateful for the treatment that probably saved their lives. Cancer patients should be cheerful, remembering how many people are working to support and save them. God forbid the patient/survivor notices that the cancer hadn't yet done any harm and that the treatment did significant permanent damage. God forbid that we ever express impatience with our new limitations and continuing pain.
2013 was a really, really hard year.
2014 was a little better. By last year, 2015, I realized that this was it. This was as good as it was going to get. Three years out - I had made all the improvement I was likely to make from my cancer treatment induced injuries. It wasn't bad as it was that first year of survival. Now I've gotten used to it: wrapping my hand every night to minimize the affects of lymphodema, the constant pins and needles of neuropathy, the joint pain, dry skin, and poor memory caused by the aromitase inhibitor...
I've accepted a new normal, and it's not so bad. It's not that it's all kittens and rainbows. It's that I can see past the constant every day pains and discomfort in my body to the every day joys and trials of my life. Bit Boy will graduate high school this spring. He is planning on going to university. Lego Kid is a 9th grader, learning the ropes of high school and exploring a new kind of independence. Hot Dog is approaching adolescence, but still a boy, my last child. I get to see them every day. They still have their mom. The price I paid for that is high, but not too high.
The effects of cancer treatment are something that I will never be allowed to forget. But the experience of raising my kids, of getting to see them grow and change, that's something I will never dare forget.
Four years ago this month, in January 2012, I was diagnosed with Stage III breast cancer. It was not the worst time of my life, but it was close. My reality changed irrevocably.
I spend that entire year undergoing cancer treatment. It wasn't as hellish as you might think, mostly due to good drugs, and even better friends and family. I had at least 4 or 5 surgeries, months of chemo and radiation. I find there are many bits I don't remember. Watching a video, Firelord will say "We've seen that", but it seems new to me. The kids will mention something they did, and I have little to no recollection of the incident. I remember taking trips to Steamboat, meeting my cousins in Yellowstone, girls night in our basement. I remember over a hundred meals being brought to our house. I don't remember suffering too much - then.
I suffered more the year after. That year I was supposed to be relieved and grateful. My hair started to grow back. My chemo-yellow skin pinked up. I looked "normal". But I didn't feel normal. I wasn't what I had been. I needed to sit more, and more often. My words stuttered and fell unspoken. My short term memory was no longer sufficient for many every day activities. I had constant pain, not just from the surgeries, but from peripheral neuropathy.
I looked fine. I was expected to get back to "normal" life. I consistently let people down with my inability to meet expectations - myself most of all.
I tried to tell folks, but no one wanted to hear it. I learned that the only acceptable response to "How are you?" is "fine". If I told my truth I was "complaining" and after all, "You're alive, right?" Which was funny, since alive hurts a hell of a lot and didn't always seem to be worth the price I was paying.
Just before one of the surgeries the nurse asked "DNR?" to which Firelord shouted "NO!" He told me "You don't get to choose, you have kids." I wasn't allowed to survive for me. I didn't survive for me. I survived for my kids. To do otherwise was too selfish to be allowed. Because I was a mother I allowed myself to suffer the torture that is cancer treatment.
Of all the things a cancer patient is supposed to be, selfish isn't one of them. Cancer patients should be warriors, bravely battling. Cancer survivors should be happy, grateful for the treatment that probably saved their lives. Cancer patients should be cheerful, remembering how many people are working to support and save them. God forbid the patient/survivor notices that the cancer hadn't yet done any harm and that the treatment did significant permanent damage. God forbid that we ever express impatience with our new limitations and continuing pain.
2013 was a really, really hard year.
2014 was a little better. By last year, 2015, I realized that this was it. This was as good as it was going to get. Three years out - I had made all the improvement I was likely to make from my cancer treatment induced injuries. It wasn't bad as it was that first year of survival. Now I've gotten used to it: wrapping my hand every night to minimize the affects of lymphodema, the constant pins and needles of neuropathy, the joint pain, dry skin, and poor memory caused by the aromitase inhibitor...
I've accepted a new normal, and it's not so bad. It's not that it's all kittens and rainbows. It's that I can see past the constant every day pains and discomfort in my body to the every day joys and trials of my life. Bit Boy will graduate high school this spring. He is planning on going to university. Lego Kid is a 9th grader, learning the ropes of high school and exploring a new kind of independence. Hot Dog is approaching adolescence, but still a boy, my last child. I get to see them every day. They still have their mom. The price I paid for that is high, but not too high.
The effects of cancer treatment are something that I will never be allowed to forget. But the experience of raising my kids, of getting to see them grow and change, that's something I will never dare forget.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
That Awkward Stage
I'm at an awkward parenting stage. (Well, I'm pretty much always awkward - parenting or otherwise) This is one of those times when I'm constantly questioning myself and my decisions.
Bit Boy at almost 16 seems nearly independent - making his own schedule, making (pretty good) choices, and generally acting like he's nearly an adult. Is it appropriate to let him be so independent? I think so, I think it's good for him to make decisions and live with the consequences - especially since they're fairly non-lethal at this point. But I feel guilty for it to be so easy to parent him right now. (Dear Universe, please don't take this as a challenge)
Hot Dog is an impish 9 year old, thrilled with his soccer team (undefeated, thank you very much Coach Joe!), his various lessons and classes, and generally a happy kid. I worry that I don't give my youngest all the attention that he deserves, but I comfort myself with Firleord. He was the 5th and last kid in his family. I think his parents were tired by the time he came and they basically let him alone. He turned out pretty damn good.
Lego Kid .... is a bundle of contradictions. He wants to go to school next year, but not leave the house today - or ever. He wants me to make him do things, but he doesn't want to do anything. We unschooled until he was 11, at which point he told me "You're too easy on me. You should make me do things." So I asked him what I should make him do, we made a list, and now I "make" him do it. ( I'm confused. Is it still unschooling if it's at his request?) He gets mad at me if he doesn't get his academics done, but resents when I make him do them. I suppose I need to remember that he's 13. This isn't personal. If it's this hard for me to deal with him, how much harder is it for him to deal with himself?
But... it does make it more challenging for me to know what the right thing to do is. My parenting philosophy has always been radical - I treat my children as rational people who know themselves better than I know them and so should have a fair say in their lives.
I have to admit that sometimes it's a mistake to assume they are rational, and that this may be one of those times.
Bit Boy at almost 16 seems nearly independent - making his own schedule, making (pretty good) choices, and generally acting like he's nearly an adult. Is it appropriate to let him be so independent? I think so, I think it's good for him to make decisions and live with the consequences - especially since they're fairly non-lethal at this point. But I feel guilty for it to be so easy to parent him right now. (Dear Universe, please don't take this as a challenge)
Hot Dog is an impish 9 year old, thrilled with his soccer team (undefeated, thank you very much Coach Joe!), his various lessons and classes, and generally a happy kid. I worry that I don't give my youngest all the attention that he deserves, but I comfort myself with Firleord. He was the 5th and last kid in his family. I think his parents were tired by the time he came and they basically let him alone. He turned out pretty damn good.
Lego Kid .... is a bundle of contradictions. He wants to go to school next year, but not leave the house today - or ever. He wants me to make him do things, but he doesn't want to do anything. We unschooled until he was 11, at which point he told me "You're too easy on me. You should make me do things." So I asked him what I should make him do, we made a list, and now I "make" him do it. ( I'm confused. Is it still unschooling if it's at his request?) He gets mad at me if he doesn't get his academics done, but resents when I make him do them. I suppose I need to remember that he's 13. This isn't personal. If it's this hard for me to deal with him, how much harder is it for him to deal with himself?
But... it does make it more challenging for me to know what the right thing to do is. My parenting philosophy has always been radical - I treat my children as rational people who know themselves better than I know them and so should have a fair say in their lives.
I have to admit that sometimes it's a mistake to assume they are rational, and that this may be one of those times.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Enough...
I've been struggling recently. I just don't feel like I'm "enough". There is so much to do that isn't getting done. There's so much I want to do that I don't have time for. I'm frazzled and tired, making mistakes, and not enjoying even those few things I do right. My children frequently point out when I make mistakes... not just little mistakes like spelling either: bigger mistakes like forgetting a tutoring session or not reminding a child of music lessons, and down right illegal mistakes like switching lanes within 200 feet of a stop light (oh, the joys of having a student driver riding shot gun). If only they knew the huge mistakes I've made - I don't know whether they'd feel gleefully justified or just terrified that their young lives have rested in my hands.
There was a time when "enough" was my mantra. I read books like Everyday Blessings by Jon Cabot Zinn, and Whole Child Whole Parent by Berends and Peck. I watched as other friends raced frantically through their lives and decided I would not do that. We would have a relaxed home life, working through "flow" and with ease. Of course it wasn't really like that, I was pregnant and/or nursing for 9+ years, and as anyone with babies and toddlers can tell you, it's exhausting work. But it had it's own rhythm, and a lovely (albeit noisy) sort of peace.
Last year I was fairly incapable of much, and would have had an easy time saying "No", except no one even asked. It's amazing how expectations lower when you're going through cancer treatment. I completed treatment by Christmas, and by mid January we were in the tropics for our sabbatical. Physically I wasn't really up to living aboard, and so again, lower expectations ruled the day. Then we came back, and things changed.
Thinking about it, I think this current business is a reaction to last year's illness. I felt so out of it, so left behind, out of the stream of our community. When we got back from our sabbatical, I jumped in with both feet. When the kids asked for something "Yes" was a fun thing to say after such a long enforced time of inactivity. I got working, signing up to teach RE, agreeing to teach O.W.L., signing the kids up for lessons, getting Bit Boy in to high school/college, prepping Lego Kid for public school and letting him take this Latin course, welcoming an exchange student in the fall. We didn't resume our old habits and schedule, we created an much busier one. Now I'm learning what it feels like to be as busy as those in the main stream, and I don't like it.
Why do we do this to ourselves? The reasons are probably as numerous as the people involved, or more so, since most of us have a multitude of reasons for doing what we do. Most parents have to work, most kids have to go to school. There's the cultural expectations, but also all the great stuff to spend our time on. The temptations of this world are many, and we're all conditioned to admire folks who are busy. "I don't know how you do it all" is a great compliment in most circles, and who doesn't want to be admired? There's also the sheer joy of our chosen activities. Our family loves our music making, outdoor time with friends, visits from family, learning new things. There, quite literally, isn't enough time in a single life to do all the things we'd like to do. There's also the pressure to contribute. "With great gifts, comes great responsibility." If we have the ability to contribute, we feel obliged. We have lots of abilities and resources, and so feel obliged to contribute, besides most of it is rewarding and fun.
Whatever the motivation, the result here hasn't been pretty. All the business comes at a cost. Saying "Yes" to business means saying "No" to down time and quiet. Time in lessons means is time not available for free play. If we think about it, we realize that every "Yes" is also "No" to something else. The trouble is we just don't think about it. Keeping busy means we don't have time to think about it. In some ways that's easier. Stay busy, don't think, just do what comes next. There are times when that's a great strategy. Those times, though, usually come after a bit of planning and forethought. College is a good example of a time when you might be crazy busy, but it's all good - you planned the work and are working the plan. The trouble comes when we're not planning the work or working the plan, but just reacting to the triggers that we experience. "Can you...?" "Yes, I can." "Would you?" "Yes, I will." Without thought as to what we're saying "No" to, "Yes" might not be the right answer.
I'm not sure what, if anything, is going to give, but something will have to change, soon. Just as soon as the semester is finished, just as soon as that next trip is done, just as soon as.....
There was a time when "enough" was my mantra. I read books like Everyday Blessings by Jon Cabot Zinn, and Whole Child Whole Parent by Berends and Peck. I watched as other friends raced frantically through their lives and decided I would not do that. We would have a relaxed home life, working through "flow" and with ease. Of course it wasn't really like that, I was pregnant and/or nursing for 9+ years, and as anyone with babies and toddlers can tell you, it's exhausting work. But it had it's own rhythm, and a lovely (albeit noisy) sort of peace.
Last year I was fairly incapable of much, and would have had an easy time saying "No", except no one even asked. It's amazing how expectations lower when you're going through cancer treatment. I completed treatment by Christmas, and by mid January we were in the tropics for our sabbatical. Physically I wasn't really up to living aboard, and so again, lower expectations ruled the day. Then we came back, and things changed.
Thinking about it, I think this current business is a reaction to last year's illness. I felt so out of it, so left behind, out of the stream of our community. When we got back from our sabbatical, I jumped in with both feet. When the kids asked for something "Yes" was a fun thing to say after such a long enforced time of inactivity. I got working, signing up to teach RE, agreeing to teach O.W.L., signing the kids up for lessons, getting Bit Boy in to high school/college, prepping Lego Kid for public school and letting him take this Latin course, welcoming an exchange student in the fall. We didn't resume our old habits and schedule, we created an much busier one. Now I'm learning what it feels like to be as busy as those in the main stream, and I don't like it.
Why do we do this to ourselves? The reasons are probably as numerous as the people involved, or more so, since most of us have a multitude of reasons for doing what we do. Most parents have to work, most kids have to go to school. There's the cultural expectations, but also all the great stuff to spend our time on. The temptations of this world are many, and we're all conditioned to admire folks who are busy. "I don't know how you do it all" is a great compliment in most circles, and who doesn't want to be admired? There's also the sheer joy of our chosen activities. Our family loves our music making, outdoor time with friends, visits from family, learning new things. There, quite literally, isn't enough time in a single life to do all the things we'd like to do. There's also the pressure to contribute. "With great gifts, comes great responsibility." If we have the ability to contribute, we feel obliged. We have lots of abilities and resources, and so feel obliged to contribute, besides most of it is rewarding and fun.
Whatever the motivation, the result here hasn't been pretty. All the business comes at a cost. Saying "Yes" to business means saying "No" to down time and quiet. Time in lessons means is time not available for free play. If we think about it, we realize that every "Yes" is also "No" to something else. The trouble is we just don't think about it. Keeping busy means we don't have time to think about it. In some ways that's easier. Stay busy, don't think, just do what comes next. There are times when that's a great strategy. Those times, though, usually come after a bit of planning and forethought. College is a good example of a time when you might be crazy busy, but it's all good - you planned the work and are working the plan. The trouble comes when we're not planning the work or working the plan, but just reacting to the triggers that we experience. "Can you...?" "Yes, I can." "Would you?" "Yes, I will." Without thought as to what we're saying "No" to, "Yes" might not be the right answer.
I'm not sure what, if anything, is going to give, but something will have to change, soon. Just as soon as the semester is finished, just as soon as that next trip is done, just as soon as.....
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Adolecent angst
Lego Kid has always been a thoughtful introspective person. At the age of 4 he was devastated by quantum mechanics. At the age of 8 he said "Eight is the perfect age, you're still a kid, but you're big enough to do fun stuff. I want to be eight forever". Most recently he's been having swinging emotions and desires, wanting more peers, more time with Mom, more time alone, more structure, less structure. Basically wanting whatever it is he doesn't have at that moment.
It's been hard on this homeschooling mom. I can't help but question our choices, especially with regards to this bright, intense, child.
Every parent wonders at some point if they've done right by their child. Have they made the correct educational and disciplinary choices? Doing anything outside the norm just increases that. If Johnny is struggling at the local neighborhood school, Mom and Dad may wonder how they can help, but they can comfort themselves that all the neighbors are at that school too, so how bad could it be? A homeschooler has accepted total responsibility for the education and well being of their children, and is doing somethingcompletely pretty outside the mainstream, so not only do we question ourselves, we have to put up with other people questioning (and even accusing) us.
It helps me to remember that whether we homeschool or public school, the adolescent angst would happen. Fluctuating hormones, cultural expectations, and changing roles aren't avoided by sending your kid off to school, or by homeschooling. Luckily Lego Kid is my second child. Bit Boy paved the way for him. (I tell poor Bit Boy the he's my "experimental child" - I'm learning on him, and doing better with his brothers because of it.) I've been through this before, the intense emotion, the conflicting desires, the search for something different, I can remember that all of this is to be expected. It doesn't make it easier in the moment, but it does help with my perspective.
It's been hard on this homeschooling mom. I can't help but question our choices, especially with regards to this bright, intense, child.
Every parent wonders at some point if they've done right by their child. Have they made the correct educational and disciplinary choices? Doing anything outside the norm just increases that. If Johnny is struggling at the local neighborhood school, Mom and Dad may wonder how they can help, but they can comfort themselves that all the neighbors are at that school too, so how bad could it be? A homeschooler has accepted total responsibility for the education and well being of their children, and is doing something
It helps me to remember that whether we homeschool or public school, the adolescent angst would happen. Fluctuating hormones, cultural expectations, and changing roles aren't avoided by sending your kid off to school, or by homeschooling. Luckily Lego Kid is my second child. Bit Boy paved the way for him. (I tell poor Bit Boy the he's my "experimental child" - I'm learning on him, and doing better with his brothers because of it.) I've been through this before, the intense emotion, the conflicting desires, the search for something different, I can remember that all of this is to be expected. It doesn't make it easier in the moment, but it does help with my perspective.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Wishing for Grace
I find Christianity so very appealing.
I know now, today, why.
Today I am feeling so very guilty. I want that lifted. I want to take it back. I want a do over.
Tonight Hot Dog pulled some attitude on me. It's not new, it's been growing, especially recently. This has been a hard week. This last year has been hell. He has not been getting the attention and direction he needs from his mom. I fell down on the job. Now it is a challenge to get us back to where we need to be. It's hard on both of us.
So, when he pulled his attitude, I ignored it and kept on reading the story I started. When I wouldn't do what he wanted he said "Then I might as well not have a story". I told him I was sorry he felt that way. I put away the book, moving on to the next bit of our bedtime ritual. He was beside himself. "I take it back. I'm sorry!" I accepted his apology and told him we'd do better tomorrow, but that there would be no more story tonight. "This can't be happening. This is just a bad dream!" He was frantic, bargaining with me, promising me everything he could think of to get what he wanted. I know the feeling. I wish I didn't.
I know that he wasn't really talking about the loss of his story this one night. I think it was about the loss of his grandpa last week. I think it was about his mom having cancer and cancer treatment last year. It was about all the awful things that have happened that we can't take back, that we can't undo.
That's a very human feeling. I wish I'd never had it. I wish you hadn't, but I bet you have. There are moments when you realize that something has changed, changed forever, and there is not. one. thing. you can do about it. That moment when your innocence is stolen, you parents divorce, a parent dies, violence damages your body and spirit, a friend dies, illness forever changes your health, a child dies ... Even worse are those moments you cause yourself, doing something that can not be undone, saying something you can never unsay, or worse, not saying what was in your heart, and then it's too late.
In those moments I've said "NO. This is not happening. This is just a bad dream. I take it back. I'm sorry. I'll do anything. Fix it! Change it back."
But it can't change back. It never can. It will never be the same. There are somethings we can't change. No amount of sorry or begging will fix it.
That's when I long for Christianity. I long for forgiveness and Grace. I can see the appeal of someone paying my penitence with the kind of pain I know I deserve. I feel the desire for a way out, a path towards redemption. I want to feel secure that it will all somehow, somewhere, sometime, work out and be better.
I've had a Jesuit priest tell me I'm a Christian, and a Baptist minister tell me I'm not.
I don't really care if I am a Christian or not. I honestly don't think that if there is a god(dess) s/he will care what color my religion is or isn't.
I'll tell you what I do believe.
I believe that we don't get a do-over in this life. We get one life, to live each day. At the end we get our death. The value of our life will be decided by the love we've given away and those who are able to pass it on. If we want it to be better, we have to keep trying, in the here and now, to make it so.
We are human. We will fail, but we must keep trying anyway.
I held Hot Dog while he cried. I told him I loved him. We talked and I rocked him to sleep. I did not read him his story. I feel awful about that. Yet, as a parent I know, he needs to learn -sometimes sorry can't fix it. It's important to do our best to not have to be sorry.
When we are sorry, when it can't be fixed, it's good to have a shoulder to cry on and to know we are loved - human and fallible, and loved.
I know now, today, why.
Today I am feeling so very guilty. I want that lifted. I want to take it back. I want a do over.
Tonight Hot Dog pulled some attitude on me. It's not new, it's been growing, especially recently. This has been a hard week. This last year has been hell. He has not been getting the attention and direction he needs from his mom. I fell down on the job. Now it is a challenge to get us back to where we need to be. It's hard on both of us.
So, when he pulled his attitude, I ignored it and kept on reading the story I started. When I wouldn't do what he wanted he said "Then I might as well not have a story". I told him I was sorry he felt that way. I put away the book, moving on to the next bit of our bedtime ritual. He was beside himself. "I take it back. I'm sorry!" I accepted his apology and told him we'd do better tomorrow, but that there would be no more story tonight. "This can't be happening. This is just a bad dream!" He was frantic, bargaining with me, promising me everything he could think of to get what he wanted. I know the feeling. I wish I didn't.
I know that he wasn't really talking about the loss of his story this one night. I think it was about the loss of his grandpa last week. I think it was about his mom having cancer and cancer treatment last year. It was about all the awful things that have happened that we can't take back, that we can't undo.
That's a very human feeling. I wish I'd never had it. I wish you hadn't, but I bet you have. There are moments when you realize that something has changed, changed forever, and there is not. one. thing. you can do about it. That moment when your innocence is stolen, you parents divorce, a parent dies, violence damages your body and spirit, a friend dies, illness forever changes your health, a child dies ... Even worse are those moments you cause yourself, doing something that can not be undone, saying something you can never unsay, or worse, not saying what was in your heart, and then it's too late.
In those moments I've said "NO. This is not happening. This is just a bad dream. I take it back. I'm sorry. I'll do anything. Fix it! Change it back."
But it can't change back. It never can. It will never be the same. There are somethings we can't change. No amount of sorry or begging will fix it.
That's when I long for Christianity. I long for forgiveness and Grace. I can see the appeal of someone paying my penitence with the kind of pain I know I deserve. I feel the desire for a way out, a path towards redemption. I want to feel secure that it will all somehow, somewhere, sometime, work out and be better.
I've had a Jesuit priest tell me I'm a Christian, and a Baptist minister tell me I'm not.
I don't really care if I am a Christian or not. I honestly don't think that if there is a god(dess) s/he will care what color my religion is or isn't.
I'll tell you what I do believe.
I believe that we don't get a do-over in this life. We get one life, to live each day. At the end we get our death. The value of our life will be decided by the love we've given away and those who are able to pass it on. If we want it to be better, we have to keep trying, in the here and now, to make it so.
We are human. We will fail, but we must keep trying anyway.
I held Hot Dog while he cried. I told him I loved him. We talked and I rocked him to sleep. I did not read him his story. I feel awful about that. Yet, as a parent I know, he needs to learn -sometimes sorry can't fix it. It's important to do our best to not have to be sorry.
When we are sorry, when it can't be fixed, it's good to have a shoulder to cry on and to know we are loved - human and fallible, and loved.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
It's a Bill and Ted Day
There are days when each and every wound you ever received is on the surface, raw and tender, waiting to bleed all over again. These days are a reminder to be kind. Show compassion. Practice patience.
That woman yelling at her screaming child in the check out line? Maybe she had to decide whether to buy groceries today or pay the doctor. Give her an understanding smile. If you're up to it, offer to help her get her groceries to the car.
The perfectly healthy looking guy who's walking away from the handicap parking spot? He might have one of those insidious hidden illnesses. This may be his first outing this week, and it will take him 2 days of rest to recover from it.
The person who pushed in front of you at the express lane, but has more than 15 items in his cart? Maybe he's getting last minute supplies for his father's wake. He didn't even see you moving towards the same line. What he sees now is the last time he saw his dad and how he wished he'd told him more often how much he loved him.
The woman who's late for work, again, even though she knows the big project is due tomorrow? Maybe her asthmatic child has another respiratory infection. She's frantically calling to find child care while she works from home on her computer.
It's a hard world out there folks. You know it is because you live in it too. I know people can be assholes to each other. I know I have been. But usually there's a reason, even if we're not ready to share it.
So, today, I'm going to try to remember that everyone is hurting. We all have our own pains and sorrows.
Sometimes those pains are obvious and people give you hugs and casseroles.
Most times those pains are invisible and people just try not to strangle each other.
Just for today:
Be Excellent to Each Other.
That woman yelling at her screaming child in the check out line? Maybe she had to decide whether to buy groceries today or pay the doctor. Give her an understanding smile. If you're up to it, offer to help her get her groceries to the car.
The perfectly healthy looking guy who's walking away from the handicap parking spot? He might have one of those insidious hidden illnesses. This may be his first outing this week, and it will take him 2 days of rest to recover from it.
The person who pushed in front of you at the express lane, but has more than 15 items in his cart? Maybe he's getting last minute supplies for his father's wake. He didn't even see you moving towards the same line. What he sees now is the last time he saw his dad and how he wished he'd told him more often how much he loved him.
The woman who's late for work, again, even though she knows the big project is due tomorrow? Maybe her asthmatic child has another respiratory infection. She's frantically calling to find child care while she works from home on her computer.
It's a hard world out there folks. You know it is because you live in it too. I know people can be assholes to each other. I know I have been. But usually there's a reason, even if we're not ready to share it.
So, today, I'm going to try to remember that everyone is hurting. We all have our own pains and sorrows.
Sometimes those pains are obvious and people give you hugs and casseroles.
Most times those pains are invisible and people just try not to strangle each other.
Just for today:
Be Excellent to Each Other.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Voiceless it cries...
I have lost my voice. It's not the first time, and it probably won't be the last. Every few years it seems I get a cold that settles into my throat and I am left to whisper my way for a while.
Aside - the longest I went with out a voice was ~ 2 months. I went to choir practice w/ my violin, on which I picked my part so as to know it when my voice came back.
I've noticed several things when I'm voiceless. Interestingly, while they seem important and insightful while I'm without the ability to go above sotto voce, I tend to forget about them until the next time I loose my voice. So, here's what I notice, with the hope that perhaps I won't need to be struck dumb to remember next time.
When I'm voiceless...
I can't yell. Yes, self evident, but it has interesting applications. While I rarely "yell at" the kids, I often yell to them. We have a big house and yard, and it seems easier to shout for them than to walk all over looking for them. Now I have to think about whether what I want to say to them is worth the walk and the search. (With my chemo-brain I'm as likely to forget why I was looking for them as to remember) I wonder if not raising my voice changes how they feel about what I was going to tell them. It seems like it does - but maybe it's just that I'm right in their face when I'm "talking" now?
People don't listen easily. I take a while to say something these days, it doesn't just bounce out like it usually does. It's an effort, and not one that most folks seem to have the patience for. All those sassy little comments I make during a conversation are lost. By the time I get it out the conversation has moved on. It makes me realize how rarely anyone actually wants to hear what I say and how often (when my voice is healthy) I don't give them a choice.
All those little sounds you make during a conversation are important. You know the ones..."Uh-huh" "No!" "Then what happened?"... Also, those leading questions that help you get someone talking, or direct the conversation a bit, are far more helpful than one thinks. I can't do those as easily right now. (When I try to say "Uh-huh" it sounds like a sick mule. People are startled and concerned.) Not saying these things seems to impede conversation. I really do want to hear what they have to say, but with out some vocal encouragement most folks peter off. Perhaps they're feeling like I'm not listening?
Speaking quietly can get attention faster and more gracefully than a raised voice. I've noticed this before, even when I'm not speechless, but it bears repeating. If you want someone to really listen, quiet down. Bit Boy was telling me that he recently learned that is part of Hopi culture too.
I wonder if it seems to others like I'm singing all the time. When I can't sing, I feel like I'm missing limb. I also find that, without a voice, I pick up an instrument more often during the day. I'm not sure why I'm like this, although I'm pretty sure I've always been like this. It's a mental health thing perhaps? Anyway, if I can't sing I still have to make noise. :-p
I find myself writing more. I often don't know what I think until say/write it and then examine it to see if what I just spewed out holds true. I process "out loud" even if it's on paper (or computer screen). (Yes, this is a lot like Hot Dog. It's the mother's curse. "I hope you have a child just like you someday!" :-D )
If I can't ask questions and prompt conversation, certain people in this family barely speak to me. I don't think it's personal. I think they just don't process the way I do. I'm beginning to believe them when I ask "What are you thinking?" and they reply "Nothing." Can you imagine? Weird.
A big part of my parenting is done with my voice. I read stories and sing to teach, to distract, to comfort. We talk- a lot - about just about anything. It's hard for Lego Kid and Hot Dog to have a mom who doesn't talk. It feels wrong to all of us.
Aside - the longest I went with out a voice was ~ 2 months. I went to choir practice w/ my violin, on which I picked my part so as to know it when my voice came back.
I've noticed several things when I'm voiceless. Interestingly, while they seem important and insightful while I'm without the ability to go above sotto voce, I tend to forget about them until the next time I loose my voice. So, here's what I notice, with the hope that perhaps I won't need to be struck dumb to remember next time.
When I'm voiceless...
I can't yell. Yes, self evident, but it has interesting applications. While I rarely "yell at" the kids, I often yell to them. We have a big house and yard, and it seems easier to shout for them than to walk all over looking for them. Now I have to think about whether what I want to say to them is worth the walk and the search. (With my chemo-brain I'm as likely to forget why I was looking for them as to remember) I wonder if not raising my voice changes how they feel about what I was going to tell them. It seems like it does - but maybe it's just that I'm right in their face when I'm "talking" now?
People don't listen easily. I take a while to say something these days, it doesn't just bounce out like it usually does. It's an effort, and not one that most folks seem to have the patience for. All those sassy little comments I make during a conversation are lost. By the time I get it out the conversation has moved on. It makes me realize how rarely anyone actually wants to hear what I say and how often (when my voice is healthy) I don't give them a choice.
All those little sounds you make during a conversation are important. You know the ones..."Uh-huh" "No!" "Then what happened?"... Also, those leading questions that help you get someone talking, or direct the conversation a bit, are far more helpful than one thinks. I can't do those as easily right now. (When I try to say "Uh-huh" it sounds like a sick mule. People are startled and concerned.) Not saying these things seems to impede conversation. I really do want to hear what they have to say, but with out some vocal encouragement most folks peter off. Perhaps they're feeling like I'm not listening?
Speaking quietly can get attention faster and more gracefully than a raised voice. I've noticed this before, even when I'm not speechless, but it bears repeating. If you want someone to really listen, quiet down. Bit Boy was telling me that he recently learned that is part of Hopi culture too.
I wonder if it seems to others like I'm singing all the time. When I can't sing, I feel like I'm missing limb. I also find that, without a voice, I pick up an instrument more often during the day. I'm not sure why I'm like this, although I'm pretty sure I've always been like this. It's a mental health thing perhaps? Anyway, if I can't sing I still have to make noise. :-p
I find myself writing more. I often don't know what I think until say/write it and then examine it to see if what I just spewed out holds true. I process "out loud" even if it's on paper (or computer screen). (Yes, this is a lot like Hot Dog. It's the mother's curse. "I hope you have a child just like you someday!" :-D )
If I can't ask questions and prompt conversation, certain people in this family barely speak to me. I don't think it's personal. I think they just don't process the way I do. I'm beginning to believe them when I ask "What are you thinking?" and they reply "Nothing." Can you imagine? Weird.
A big part of my parenting is done with my voice. I read stories and sing to teach, to distract, to comfort. We talk- a lot - about just about anything. It's hard for Lego Kid and Hot Dog to have a mom who doesn't talk. It feels wrong to all of us.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
NaNoWriMo, again!?!
Yes. I am quite possibly insane. Lego Kid and I have decided to do NaNoWriMo again.
We are crazy busy, which you know is not something I'm good at or seek out. I'm recovering from yet another surgery (not to mention all the previous cancer treatment). Bit Boy and I are doing the leg work to get him into high school next year. We're preparing for an 8 week sabbatical that starts in just a couple of months. The holidays are approaching. I have another surgery in Nov. And in Dec. Last time we did this is was not quite what you would call a success. What am I thinking?
I'm thinking I want my life back. If I can't have my previous life, I want another, just as good. And maybe this will be part of it.
We did have fun with NaNoWriMo, and both of us found that we wrote far more than we would have otherwise. Also, I've been looking at what I can do with each member of my family as "our own" activity. This last year as my health declined, I've discovered that much of our bonding time was doing physical activities; kayaking, hiking, biking, gardening, swimming, ice skating, etc. (I'm not athletic, but I was active.) I miss that bonding time. I'm not so active anymore. While I hope to be active again at some healthier point in the future, this has pointed out to me how lopsided my relationships were. For the Lego Kid creativity reigns, and making up stories is something he does all the time. Writing is not, but is possibly a good next step in his growth. And goodness knows I could use some extra practice too!
Wish us luck!
We are crazy busy, which you know is not something I'm good at or seek out. I'm recovering from yet another surgery (not to mention all the previous cancer treatment). Bit Boy and I are doing the leg work to get him into high school next year. We're preparing for an 8 week sabbatical that starts in just a couple of months. The holidays are approaching. I have another surgery in Nov. And in Dec. Last time we did this is was not quite what you would call a success. What am I thinking?
I'm thinking I want my life back. If I can't have my previous life, I want another, just as good. And maybe this will be part of it.
We did have fun with NaNoWriMo, and both of us found that we wrote far more than we would have otherwise. Also, I've been looking at what I can do with each member of my family as "our own" activity. This last year as my health declined, I've discovered that much of our bonding time was doing physical activities; kayaking, hiking, biking, gardening, swimming, ice skating, etc. (I'm not athletic, but I was active.) I miss that bonding time. I'm not so active anymore. While I hope to be active again at some healthier point in the future, this has pointed out to me how lopsided my relationships were. For the Lego Kid creativity reigns, and making up stories is something he does all the time. Writing is not, but is possibly a good next step in his growth. And goodness knows I could use some extra practice too!
Wish us luck!
Thursday, September 20, 2012
It's a Not so Bad
I thought I'd catch you all up on the math drama. Although, it's not actually that dramatic. What I posted was a moment, a slice, of our homeschooling life - a not perfect slice. I think those are perhaps more valuable than the Christmas Letter posts that talk about how wonderful everything is. Don't get me wrong, I love having those days. But reading about them nonstop can make me feel inadequate, so I tend to post nearly as often about the not-so-perfect days, just so you know you're not alone. :-) You're welcome.
It all sorted itself out in time. We put the work aside for that day and came back to it later. With more rest, and a change of attitude, Bit Boy regained his memory and not only finished his work, but had some nice insights about it. I realized that we need more review. While he has a good theoretical understanding of what he's done, he hasn't practiced enough for it to become second nature.
Actually this has been an ongoing theme in my kids learning math. They're very good at mental math and math concepts. They're not so good at showing their work and other "drudgery". While they were young I let them off the hook with regards to doing much written work. They're getting older though, so now it's time to face the music. As Lego Kid is learning, some problems are too big to hold in your head. With Bit-Boy prepping for college now, being able to show his work has become much more important. I'm realizing that they both need practice not only with showing their work, but with the resilience and skills needed to face a tough problem, break it down into it's parts, be willing to make mistakes and come back to try again. This is good for all of us to practice, yes?
Also, many friends have called or emailed to let me know that at 14, many boys seem to loose their minds. Their focus shifts, their hormones rage, and they are working hard to separate even while they still need the love and support of their parents and family. I'm trying to remember that as my teen turns into a push-me-pull-you.
I have found that in parenting, and homeschooling, there are times when we just hit a wall. It can be with behavior, skills, academics, just about anything. That wall can seem insurmountable in the moment. It can be infuriating. I often feel like the child is putting up this wall just to Piss.Me.Off. and it worked.
But really? It's just as frustrating to the child as it is to the parent. Sometimes to the child it's even frightening, they have so much less control and experience than adults, they don't realize that this too shall pass.
I'm trying to get better at seeing those moments as an opportunity to explore what's really happening and to model how we deal with challenges and conflict. I'm not always succeeding, but I'm still trying. I'm also telling myself that that in itself is good modeling.:-)
It all sorted itself out in time. We put the work aside for that day and came back to it later. With more rest, and a change of attitude, Bit Boy regained his memory and not only finished his work, but had some nice insights about it. I realized that we need more review. While he has a good theoretical understanding of what he's done, he hasn't practiced enough for it to become second nature.
Actually this has been an ongoing theme in my kids learning math. They're very good at mental math and math concepts. They're not so good at showing their work and other "drudgery". While they were young I let them off the hook with regards to doing much written work. They're getting older though, so now it's time to face the music. As Lego Kid is learning, some problems are too big to hold in your head. With Bit-Boy prepping for college now, being able to show his work has become much more important. I'm realizing that they both need practice not only with showing their work, but with the resilience and skills needed to face a tough problem, break it down into it's parts, be willing to make mistakes and come back to try again. This is good for all of us to practice, yes?
Also, many friends have called or emailed to let me know that at 14, many boys seem to loose their minds. Their focus shifts, their hormones rage, and they are working hard to separate even while they still need the love and support of their parents and family. I'm trying to remember that as my teen turns into a push-me-pull-you.
I have found that in parenting, and homeschooling, there are times when we just hit a wall. It can be with behavior, skills, academics, just about anything. That wall can seem insurmountable in the moment. It can be infuriating. I often feel like the child is putting up this wall just to Piss.Me.Off. and it worked.
But really? It's just as frustrating to the child as it is to the parent. Sometimes to the child it's even frightening, they have so much less control and experience than adults, they don't realize that this too shall pass.
I'm trying to get better at seeing those moments as an opportunity to explore what's really happening and to model how we deal with challenges and conflict. I'm not always succeeding, but I'm still trying. I'm also telling myself that that in itself is good modeling.:-)
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Grrr...
My oldest appears to have brain damage. Two days ago he knew x^1/2= sq.rt x, and now he doesn't. He knew this months ago - what's up with that?
(sorry, I need to figure out how to do math equations when blogging - suggestions anyone?)
Also, he will come to me with a blank sheet of paper saying "I need help with my math" before he has looked at his problems, or even dated his paper. He gets mad when I tell him that he should at least copy the original problem before he comes to me for help.
This morning he came to me to ask for help doing the review (REVIEW!) problems at the end of a chapter that in itself is supposed to be review. I was asking what I thought was a simple rhetorical question to talk him through the solution.
His answer? "I don't know"
Another simple question from me.
Not even pausing to think a moment, "I don't know".
Really? OK. "Have you read the chapter?"
"No."
Aghhh!
My final response was "Go re-read the chapter. Find a similar problem. Work through it. Try the original problem again. Come to me if you still don't understand."
I am finally empathizing with all those irritating people who tell me "I could never do that" when they learn we homeschool. Usually I just smile and say, "It's not for everyone" when what I really mean is "If you wanted to homeschool you could, but it's fine that you don't want to." Yes. I'm that awful and pompous, but hopefully only in my head.
It's kind of like when I had only one child. He was a sweet quiet child. He had a mellow temperament and made friends easily. He never bit anyone (but me), didn't pick fights, didn't scratch his privates in public, you know... he appeared to be a near perfect child. I thought to myself, "If everyone parented like me, they too could have a child as lovely as this." (To all those who had to stand next to me when I was thinking these pretentious thoughts, I'm sorry. Really, really, sorry)
Then I had a second child. Oh. My. God. From the beginning this child was different. He was colicky. He was intense. He was not mellow. He was not easy. He hit and bit and cried - a lot. Nothing I did changed his temperament. I learned something I would have never known had I had only one child. My first child was easy. My second child was not. It was that simple.
Now they've both grown. My second child is 11. He is still intense, and the most intorverted person I know (and that's saying something). He is also sweet, kind, and sensitive. He is empathetic and insightful enough that, to the gullible, he seems psychic. He is now almost an "easy" child.
My oldest is 14. He is moody, withdrawn, and not all that interested in pleasing anyone who isn't a teen. Little I do pleases him. My existence is, honestly, an embarrassment. There are so many things wrong with his life right now. He is furious that we would take family holidays but not spend $300 to buy him a program he wants. (We have given him the option of working for pay to get it, but that's not appealing apparently.) His brothers breath near him. Right now, he's not an easy child, and I need bonus points for letting him live some days.
Sometimes you have an easy child, sometimes you don't. Sometimes homeschooling is easy, sometimes it isn't. It's that simple.
Also - we've created a new acronym - SYW.
Really.
Show Your Work.
I say this everyday. Everyday. But does he do it?
No...sigh.. no he doesn't. "I don't need to, the answer is obvious."
Riiight... how did you get the wrong answer then?
See me not strangling him? Good on me.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Hope is arrogance on display
We all want to know "why?" Sometimes it's "why me?" Sometimes the question is "how?", or "why now?"
And, more often than we like, the answer is "I don't know", or "no reason", or "it's just the way it is".
And that's hard. It's really hard. How can we accept that there's not necessarily rhyme or reason to the crazy shit that happens? How do we live with the suffering and death and heart rendering sorrow that in time come to afflict us all?
I think that's why humans invented religion. I had a friend who liked to tell me that we all had a hole in us, a God Hole. That we all had a need to answer those questions, and that need was our God Hole begging to be filled. I agree. As humans we can see beyond the now. We remember our pasts and share our memories with people who aren't even born yet. We can envision the future. We have the arrogance to believe we can change the future. We have the ability to imagine that things are not yet, and then make them happen. We know that things can be different than how they are. That's our God Hole, our imagination begging to understand and control. My friend was a Pentecostal, and I'm pretty sure she didn't mean for me to interpret her the way I did. And in my vast imagination, I can see us both being right.
Tonight my heart is heavy. I just learned from our house sitter that one of our foster kittens is very sick, probably dying. What happened? I don't know. We are away in Steamboat, taking advantage of the Labor Day weekend and the fact that I'm only 1 week into radiation and not as sick as I'm going to get. These 4 foster kittens are only 4 weeks old. They are the cutest sweetest little cuddles of fur we've had in a while. I'm heart broken that one is so ill, and keep coming back to all the the things I might have done wrong. Did I miss some symptom? We hadn't had them long at all. The rescue knew that we were leaving and that the house sitter would be caring for them, but perhaps I should have refused to have them while we were gone. I know our house sitter is excellent with animals, but she shouldn't have to take on this responsibility. She's tenderhearted and has her own sorrows. I'm so sorry to have added any burdens to her already full load.
It's not really just about the little kitten is it? That innocent little fur ball represents every child that's ever been hurt, every person that has suffered, and all the hideous ugly horrors that the living must daily face. I know that. I know it's about my cancer, the abuse I suffered as a child, the sorrow I hold in my heart for my own children watching me be ill. I know it's about the suffering and illness my mother has suffered, and my brother in law, and my aunts. I know it's personal, for each of us. We all have our wounds, scars, and sorrows. It's just that kind of a world.
How arrogant am I? That I think I can affect any of this? I am human. My God Hole sees other possibilities than pain, sorrow and suffering. My God Hole knows, not only that this will not last, but that better things are possible. So I keep going. I look for fun and joy. I take my hugs when they come. I drink a glass of wine, and enjoy the taste fresh fruit. I play with my children. I rescue little fluff balls.
I'm that arrogant.
Update 9/2/12:
The kitten died. Our house sitter rushed it to the rescue late last night, where the vet met her, but there was nothing that could be done. The vet gave the house sitter some medicine for the other kitties, because one of them had a fever and was listless. (She also gave the feverish one extra sub-q fluids.) This morning the house sitter texted that the 3 remaining kittens were doing well. Sometimes there's nothing you can do, but sometimes there is.
I'm grateful to have such an awesome house/pet sitter, that she would care so much and get herself and 4 kittens to the vet late at night. I'm impressed with Dr. Gloria from the Fort Collins Cat Rescue, that she would give up a Sat. night to try to save the life of 8 oz. of fluff. Having dealt with her before, I'm not surprised, just continuously in awe of her dedication and abilities. That's one arrogant, hopeful, woman.
And, more often than we like, the answer is "I don't know", or "no reason", or "it's just the way it is".
And that's hard. It's really hard. How can we accept that there's not necessarily rhyme or reason to the crazy shit that happens? How do we live with the suffering and death and heart rendering sorrow that in time come to afflict us all?
I think that's why humans invented religion. I had a friend who liked to tell me that we all had a hole in us, a God Hole. That we all had a need to answer those questions, and that need was our God Hole begging to be filled. I agree. As humans we can see beyond the now. We remember our pasts and share our memories with people who aren't even born yet. We can envision the future. We have the arrogance to believe we can change the future. We have the ability to imagine that things are not yet, and then make them happen. We know that things can be different than how they are. That's our God Hole, our imagination begging to understand and control. My friend was a Pentecostal, and I'm pretty sure she didn't mean for me to interpret her the way I did. And in my vast imagination, I can see us both being right.
Tonight my heart is heavy. I just learned from our house sitter that one of our foster kittens is very sick, probably dying. What happened? I don't know. We are away in Steamboat, taking advantage of the Labor Day weekend and the fact that I'm only 1 week into radiation and not as sick as I'm going to get. These 4 foster kittens are only 4 weeks old. They are the cutest sweetest little cuddles of fur we've had in a while. I'm heart broken that one is so ill, and keep coming back to all the the things I might have done wrong. Did I miss some symptom? We hadn't had them long at all. The rescue knew that we were leaving and that the house sitter would be caring for them, but perhaps I should have refused to have them while we were gone. I know our house sitter is excellent with animals, but she shouldn't have to take on this responsibility. She's tenderhearted and has her own sorrows. I'm so sorry to have added any burdens to her already full load.
It's not really just about the little kitten is it? That innocent little fur ball represents every child that's ever been hurt, every person that has suffered, and all the hideous ugly horrors that the living must daily face. I know that. I know it's about my cancer, the abuse I suffered as a child, the sorrow I hold in my heart for my own children watching me be ill. I know it's about the suffering and illness my mother has suffered, and my brother in law, and my aunts. I know it's personal, for each of us. We all have our wounds, scars, and sorrows. It's just that kind of a world.
How arrogant am I? That I think I can affect any of this? I am human. My God Hole sees other possibilities than pain, sorrow and suffering. My God Hole knows, not only that this will not last, but that better things are possible. So I keep going. I look for fun and joy. I take my hugs when they come. I drink a glass of wine, and enjoy the taste fresh fruit. I play with my children. I rescue little fluff balls.
I'm that arrogant.
Update 9/2/12:
The kitten died. Our house sitter rushed it to the rescue late last night, where the vet met her, but there was nothing that could be done. The vet gave the house sitter some medicine for the other kitties, because one of them had a fever and was listless. (She also gave the feverish one extra sub-q fluids.) This morning the house sitter texted that the 3 remaining kittens were doing well. Sometimes there's nothing you can do, but sometimes there is.
I'm grateful to have such an awesome house/pet sitter, that she would care so much and get herself and 4 kittens to the vet late at night. I'm impressed with Dr. Gloria from the Fort Collins Cat Rescue, that she would give up a Sat. night to try to save the life of 8 oz. of fluff. Having dealt with her before, I'm not surprised, just continuously in awe of her dedication and abilities. That's one arrogant, hopeful, woman.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
If Mama ain't happy...
... Ain't nobody happy.
You've heart that one, right?
Is it true at your house?
It's true at our house too. Not in the "Mama's pissed and she's after your butt" way, but in the literal, if I'm not well, no one else is either way.
Seriously.
It seems absolutely impossible for my family to be happy and cheerful if I'm sick.
Ah, that seems kinda sweet, doesn't it?
NO. It's not.
It's damned irritating, and sometimes totally dysfunctional, especially when Mom is truly very ill and needs everyone else to step up while she's down.
I noticed this before my diagnosis. If I was low, the kids were low, and nothing got done. If I was sick, you could bet the mortgage that at least one kid would spend the day complaining and asking "Do I have a fever?" Before my diagnosis I chalked it up to my skewed perception when I was low or sick. The family wasn't really taking on my symptoms, it just seemed like it to me because my view point was skewed while I was low or sick. I was over sensitive.
But this last year I've had lots of opportunity to test the theory that every person in this house takes their physical and emotional cues from me and every single time it's tested, I'm right. On the weeks I get chemo, suddenly everyone else feels a little off, queasy, tired, out of sorts. What ever my physical or emotional malaise is, it is mirrored in my family.
When I don't do house work, it just doesn't get done, even if I lay on the couch and try to micromanage from there. It just doesn't happen. When I'm well and can pop up and say "Time to clean" the same micromanaging works just fine. "Hot Dog - pick up all the nerf darts. LegoKid put all the legos away. Bit Boy, you vacuum." If I'm on my feet and smiling, this all gets done with a minimal amount of griping. If I'm down, it's like I'm speaking a different language. If I'm too tired to do laundry, very little laundry gets done. Yet, if I am well enough to start it and ask for help, suddenly - Boom - lots of hands helping and it's done.
The cure for this is - what? I know. Don't get sick. Especially, don't get a life threatening illness that requires medical treatment that is also life threatening. Stay cheerful no matter how you feel physically. Don't let them see you sweat.
Uh. No. I can't do that. Damn. I wish I could. But thems the breaks. I'm going to be in, and recovering from, cancer treatment for a while yet. I can't help but feel bad and tired sometimes.
I've talked with them about it, but only FireLord is really mature enough to see the pattern. Even seeing the pattern isn't enough to change things. So we'll just have to all muddle through together. Hopefully at some point soonish I'll be getting stronger and be able to be more consistent in my energy and health. Until then, well, don't look to closely at the dust bunnies, eh?
You've heart that one, right?
Is it true at your house?
It's true at our house too. Not in the "Mama's pissed and she's after your butt" way, but in the literal, if I'm not well, no one else is either way.
Seriously.
It seems absolutely impossible for my family to be happy and cheerful if I'm sick.
Ah, that seems kinda sweet, doesn't it?
NO. It's not.
It's damned irritating, and sometimes totally dysfunctional, especially when Mom is truly very ill and needs everyone else to step up while she's down.
I noticed this before my diagnosis. If I was low, the kids were low, and nothing got done. If I was sick, you could bet the mortgage that at least one kid would spend the day complaining and asking "Do I have a fever?" Before my diagnosis I chalked it up to my skewed perception when I was low or sick. The family wasn't really taking on my symptoms, it just seemed like it to me because my view point was skewed while I was low or sick. I was over sensitive.
But this last year I've had lots of opportunity to test the theory that every person in this house takes their physical and emotional cues from me and every single time it's tested, I'm right. On the weeks I get chemo, suddenly everyone else feels a little off, queasy, tired, out of sorts. What ever my physical or emotional malaise is, it is mirrored in my family.
When I don't do house work, it just doesn't get done, even if I lay on the couch and try to micromanage from there. It just doesn't happen. When I'm well and can pop up and say "Time to clean" the same micromanaging works just fine. "Hot Dog - pick up all the nerf darts. LegoKid put all the legos away. Bit Boy, you vacuum." If I'm on my feet and smiling, this all gets done with a minimal amount of griping. If I'm down, it's like I'm speaking a different language. If I'm too tired to do laundry, very little laundry gets done. Yet, if I am well enough to start it and ask for help, suddenly - Boom - lots of hands helping and it's done.
The cure for this is - what? I know. Don't get sick. Especially, don't get a life threatening illness that requires medical treatment that is also life threatening. Stay cheerful no matter how you feel physically. Don't let them see you sweat.
Uh. No. I can't do that. Damn. I wish I could. But thems the breaks. I'm going to be in, and recovering from, cancer treatment for a while yet. I can't help but feel bad and tired sometimes.
I've talked with them about it, but only FireLord is really mature enough to see the pattern. Even seeing the pattern isn't enough to change things. So we'll just have to all muddle through together. Hopefully at some point soonish I'll be getting stronger and be able to be more consistent in my energy and health. Until then, well, don't look to closely at the dust bunnies, eh?
Monday, January 9, 2012
Kid at School?
12/15/11 As the sun was rising this morning I was driving to drop off Bit-Boy at our "neighborhood" middle school. He's always been a social kid, and I think attending 8th grade O.W.L. at church has piqued his interest in being around more age peers. So, he arranged to shadow an 8th grade neighbor/friend.
12/16/11 Bit Boy told me he'd like to look into going to school part time. Oh Lordy, here we go. I'd rather have him home for so many reasons, but this is something he really wants. And really, how do you tell your kid "NO! You can't go to school!" and still sound rational? ;-)
12/18/11 I attended a meeting with the councilor and Bit-Boy. She's very excited and says he can take as few or as many classes as he wants. Registar steps in and says "No. You need to check with the principal." So we put our conversation on hold and the councilor agrees to contact me with the principal's response.
12/22/11 We have our meeting with the principle. Bit-Boy is excited to have a chance to go to school. He is leaning "61%" towards going part-time. (Compared to 39% in favor of homeschooling full time.) Meeting prompts me to write an urgent vent to my homeschooling-mom-friends:
I need some hugs. Arg!! I'm really not liking this, and there are very few people I can complain to, since few people see why this is a problem for me.
Bit-Boy is very clear in wanting to try going to school, but wanting to go only part time. What he wants out of the experience is to see what being in school is like and to meet more kids his own age. If the only option was full time or not going, he'd choose to not go.
This morning we went to sign up Bit-boy for 8th grade (part-time attendance). This was the 2nd time this week, and the 3rd time within the last 7 days that we've been to L., our neighborhood school. We met with the principal, the councilor and the English teacher.
The councilor is great. Kind, articulate, and open to doing what is best for the student and family. The English teacher seemed receptive to the idea of taking on a student who'd had no formal schooling.
After confirming that part-time was an option, the principal, Mr. D., gave us the hard sell on full time enrollment. He spent 45 + min. lecturing us. When I said full time enrollment wasn't on the table for discussion, he pushed back. First he tried to explain that there was no way that we could meet Alex's academic needs. I explained that Bit-Boy is reading at an adult level and would be ready for college level engineering courses by the time he was 15. He expressed skepticism. I showed him Bit-Boy's most recent PASS test scores. A moment of silence.
He then moved on to explain how there was much more to school than academics and that they were all about getting kids ready for the "next step" (being ready for high school). He talked about how pushing kids too hard academically was bad. (I didn't mention the unschooling bit) I can't even remember now all the stuff he said. I don't know if he realized how big a hole he was digging when he went on about all the "social" situations that Bit-Boy would be exposed to in school. He went on to say he expected that Bit-Boy would have so much fun that he'd want to be full time, and even want to come back to do 8th grade full time there next year. (eyeroll)
Aloud, I turned to Bit-Boy and pointed out that Mr. D was giving him the hard sell on going full time, and asked Bit-Boy if he was going to be up to dealing with that for a semester. Then the principal said "Oh, no. I won't push him." (But that was what he'd been doing right in front of me for almost an hour. Can expect him to do better when I'm not around?)
All I could think is that this man believes his school is better at raising children than parents, and that the entire point of "school" is to keep kids so busy they don't have time for anything else.
Running errands afterwards, Lego Dude said "If Bit-Boy likes it there, maybe I should go too?" I could cry. This child is not ready for the social aspect of middle school. He is just coming into the quantum leap in learning that Bit-Boy experienced from 11-13 yo. I so don't want him in school. I don't want to deal with all the stuff he'd bring home, I don't want him to deal with all the stimulation just when he's starting to find himself. Also, I like my kids and don't want them gone all day. They'll be leaving soon enough (obviously).
Bit-Boy even thinking of attending middle school is changing our family culture. I am not wanting this change. Even though I knew something like it was coming, I thought it would be later. I figured around 10th grade he could start at the community college, take some AP classes at one of the high schools, try a co-enrollment situation, or take some on line courses from a university. All of which could still happen of course, I just feel like the adults at the school are going to be doing their best to brainwash him that he's been abused by homeschooling and that if he doesn't go to school full time he'll miss out on all the important things in life.
I also really hate feeling judged by someone. Especially someone who is so biased against our lifestyle. When I called him on it, pointing out that our homeschooling was a family choice and no reflection on him, L., or public schools, he responded - "Oh, I'm not biased. I'm all for choice." So now, in the space of an hour, he has established a pattern of doing/saying something while not accepting responsibility for his actions.
OK. I know, this email all about me. Yup. I'm wallowing.
But I'm still letting Bit-Boy try school, so good on me, eh?
Whew! I was so worked up. All this led to some great discussions with Firelord, with Bit-Boy, with Lego Dude, and with Hot Dog. And then more discussion with all of us together.
I wrote to another friend:
Bit-Boy is enrolled to start at the middle school starting Jan 9, part time. They have a wacky schedule, "blue" days and "yellow" days, but get this: The blue and yellow days alternate. One blue, one yellow, so you can't assume that all Mondays are the same, or even that every other Monday will be the same, since there are occasional no school days that shift the schedule. It's insane. Of course, it doesn't matter if you give your kid up to the school from 7:25-3:30 everyday, although the kids need to keep track of the days so they prepare the assignments for the correct class. (eyeroll)
One thing I realized is that I've made such an effort to be sure the kids understood that going to school was a legitimate choice for families (because at one point they'd been lording their homeschooling over some jealous schooled friends) that I hadn't spent much time explaining why I still believed that homeschooling was the best option for our family.
Another thing that came up is the whole giftedness and right brained discussion. Ugh. I really haven't had to get into the nitty gritty of IQ or academic ability before. We just did what we were interested in, at our own pace, and didn't worry about it. Now come to find out that Bit-Boy is working way ahead of level. And, in fact, Bit-Boy and I came to realize that given what the school had to offer academically, he should be in the middle of highschool, except that his pace of work would be slowed down if he went at the rate of a normal class. BTW Mr. D said he could go to the high school for this and that, and a local high school prinicpal has offered him a place anytime - but that doesn't quite meet the social needs that started all this, does it?
So what does a kid do when he wants a pack of his intellectual and emotional peers? Can't happen, at least not in semi-rual place with as low a population as this. He's going to have to settle for age mates, and folks of all ages who share his interests, without a whole lot of overlap.
What happened? I tried to be Zen about it and not be attached to any particular outcome. I talked myself into thinking that this would be a good growth experience for him. I did my utmost to keep my dismay to myself. Bit-Boy is pretty head strong, so I wasn't too worried he'd try to please me. Good thing.
He weighed his options. Comparing not only his experience shadowing his friend at the school, but also listening to what she and his other schooled friends shared about their school experiences. He compared how he spends his time to how they spend theirs: time spent sleeping, time spent on academics, time spent with friends, amount of freetime, amount of extra activities, etc.
What did he decide? You know, after 3 meetings at the school; putting me through hour and a half meeting with the blow hard principal, the tolerant English teacher and the patient councilor; the reams of paperwork, etc...? He decided he didn't even want to try it for a week or two. After all that thought... he'd rather sleep in.
I seriously thought about it, but I didn't actually put him on the 1 hour busride into school
12/16/11 Bit Boy told me he'd like to look into going to school part time. Oh Lordy, here we go. I'd rather have him home for so many reasons, but this is something he really wants. And really, how do you tell your kid "NO! You can't go to school!" and still sound rational? ;-)
12/18/11 I attended a meeting with the councilor and Bit-Boy. She's very excited and says he can take as few or as many classes as he wants. Registar steps in and says "No. You need to check with the principal." So we put our conversation on hold and the councilor agrees to contact me with the principal's response.
12/22/11 We have our meeting with the principle. Bit-Boy is excited to have a chance to go to school. He is leaning "61%" towards going part-time. (Compared to 39% in favor of homeschooling full time.) Meeting prompts me to write an urgent vent to my homeschooling-mom-friends:
I need some hugs. Arg!! I'm really not liking this, and there are very few people I can complain to, since few people see why this is a problem for me.
Bit-Boy is very clear in wanting to try going to school, but wanting to go only part time. What he wants out of the experience is to see what being in school is like and to meet more kids his own age. If the only option was full time or not going, he'd choose to not go.
This morning we went to sign up Bit-boy for 8th grade (part-time attendance). This was the 2nd time this week, and the 3rd time within the last 7 days that we've been to L., our neighborhood school. We met with the principal, the councilor and the English teacher.
The councilor is great. Kind, articulate, and open to doing what is best for the student and family. The English teacher seemed receptive to the idea of taking on a student who'd had no formal schooling.
After confirming that part-time was an option, the principal, Mr. D., gave us the hard sell on full time enrollment. He spent 45 + min. lecturing us. When I said full time enrollment wasn't on the table for discussion, he pushed back. First he tried to explain that there was no way that we could meet Alex's academic needs. I explained that Bit-Boy is reading at an adult level and would be ready for college level engineering courses by the time he was 15. He expressed skepticism. I showed him Bit-Boy's most recent PASS test scores. A moment of silence.
He then moved on to explain how there was much more to school than academics and that they were all about getting kids ready for the "next step" (being ready for high school). He talked about how pushing kids too hard academically was bad. (I didn't mention the unschooling bit) I can't even remember now all the stuff he said. I don't know if he realized how big a hole he was digging when he went on about all the "social" situations that Bit-Boy would be exposed to in school. He went on to say he expected that Bit-Boy would have so much fun that he'd want to be full time, and even want to come back to do 8th grade full time there next year. (eyeroll)
Aloud, I turned to Bit-Boy and pointed out that Mr. D was giving him the hard sell on going full time, and asked Bit-Boy if he was going to be up to dealing with that for a semester. Then the principal said "Oh, no. I won't push him." (But that was what he'd been doing right in front of me for almost an hour. Can expect him to do better when I'm not around?)
All I could think is that this man believes his school is better at raising children than parents, and that the entire point of "school" is to keep kids so busy they don't have time for anything else.
Running errands afterwards, Lego Dude said "If Bit-Boy likes it there, maybe I should go too?" I could cry. This child is not ready for the social aspect of middle school. He is just coming into the quantum leap in learning that Bit-Boy experienced from 11-13 yo. I so don't want him in school. I don't want to deal with all the stuff he'd bring home, I don't want him to deal with all the stimulation just when he's starting to find himself. Also, I like my kids and don't want them gone all day. They'll be leaving soon enough (obviously).
Bit-Boy even thinking of attending middle school is changing our family culture. I am not wanting this change. Even though I knew something like it was coming, I thought it would be later. I figured around 10th grade he could start at the community college, take some AP classes at one of the high schools, try a co-enrollment situation, or take some on line courses from a university. All of which could still happen of course, I just feel like the adults at the school are going to be doing their best to brainwash him that he's been abused by homeschooling and that if he doesn't go to school full time he'll miss out on all the important things in life.
I also really hate feeling judged by someone. Especially someone who is so biased against our lifestyle. When I called him on it, pointing out that our homeschooling was a family choice and no reflection on him, L., or public schools, he responded - "Oh, I'm not biased. I'm all for choice." So now, in the space of an hour, he has established a pattern of doing/saying something while not accepting responsibility for his actions.
OK. I know, this email all about me. Yup. I'm wallowing.
But I'm still letting Bit-Boy try school, so good on me, eh?
Whew! I was so worked up. All this led to some great discussions with Firelord, with Bit-Boy, with Lego Dude, and with Hot Dog. And then more discussion with all of us together.
I wrote to another friend:
Bit-Boy is enrolled to start at the middle school starting Jan 9, part time. They have a wacky schedule, "blue" days and "yellow" days, but get this: The blue and yellow days alternate. One blue, one yellow, so you can't assume that all Mondays are the same, or even that every other Monday will be the same, since there are occasional no school days that shift the schedule. It's insane. Of course, it doesn't matter if you give your kid up to the school from 7:25-3:30 everyday, although the kids need to keep track of the days so they prepare the assignments for the correct class. (eyeroll)
One thing I realized is that I've made such an effort to be sure the kids understood that going to school was a legitimate choice for families (because at one point they'd been lording their homeschooling over some jealous schooled friends) that I hadn't spent much time explaining why I still believed that homeschooling was the best option for our family.
Another thing that came up is the whole giftedness and right brained discussion. Ugh. I really haven't had to get into the nitty gritty of IQ or academic ability before. We just did what we were interested in, at our own pace, and didn't worry about it. Now come to find out that Bit-Boy is working way ahead of level. And, in fact, Bit-Boy and I came to realize that given what the school had to offer academically, he should be in the middle of highschool, except that his pace of work would be slowed down if he went at the rate of a normal class. BTW Mr. D said he could go to the high school for this and that, and a local high school prinicpal has offered him a place anytime - but that doesn't quite meet the social needs that started all this, does it?
So what does a kid do when he wants a pack of his intellectual and emotional peers? Can't happen, at least not in semi-rual place with as low a population as this. He's going to have to settle for age mates, and folks of all ages who share his interests, without a whole lot of overlap.
What happened? I tried to be Zen about it and not be attached to any particular outcome. I talked myself into thinking that this would be a good growth experience for him. I did my utmost to keep my dismay to myself. Bit-Boy is pretty head strong, so I wasn't too worried he'd try to please me. Good thing.
He weighed his options. Comparing not only his experience shadowing his friend at the school, but also listening to what she and his other schooled friends shared about their school experiences. He compared how he spends his time to how they spend theirs: time spent sleeping, time spent on academics, time spent with friends, amount of freetime, amount of extra activities, etc.
What did he decide? You know, after 3 meetings at the school; putting me through hour and a half meeting with the blow hard principal, the tolerant English teacher and the patient councilor; the reams of paperwork, etc...? He decided he didn't even want to try it for a week or two. After all that thought... he'd rather sleep in.
I seriously thought about it, but I didn't actually put him on the 1 hour busride into school
Monday, November 21, 2011
No one likes talking about it, but we need to
The sexual abuse of children is real. It's epidemic. And it's not stopping. It won't stop as long as we are silent. It won't stop until we protect and believe the children. It won't stop until we own our obligation to our children as greater than any other obligation.
I usually don't do this, but Jennifer says it just fine. Go read this Blogging 'Bout Boys post.
She's got some important information to help you keep your kids safe from sexual predators.
I would add - believe your child. If your child tells you that something happened, believe them. Comfort and protect your child. Seek help and report the abuse.
Please, don't get trapped into worrying about what it says about you as a parent. It's not about you, and most perps are very, very good at grooming not only their victims but also the family that surrounds them. They are very good at making it seem like you and your child are the problem. Remember your job. Protect your child.
I usually don't do this, but Jennifer says it just fine. Go read this Blogging 'Bout Boys post.
She's got some important information to help you keep your kids safe from sexual predators.
I would add - believe your child. If your child tells you that something happened, believe them. Comfort and protect your child. Seek help and report the abuse.
Please, don't get trapped into worrying about what it says about you as a parent. It's not about you, and most perps are very, very good at grooming not only their victims but also the family that surrounds them. They are very good at making it seem like you and your child are the problem. Remember your job. Protect your child.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Gracious Professionalism - double take
Last night my FLL team won 1st place in Gracious Professionalism, followed by an invite to the state tournament. I was floored by this unexpected conclusion to yesterday's qualifying tournament.
I slept on this. Actually I stayed awake unable to quiet the turmoil in my brain for quite a while, then entered a comatose state. I can't explain how surprised I was by how well my FLL team did at the qualifying tournament.
When I woke up, I understood better. Sleep is good that way.
This team earned their ticket to state the hard way. They were a solid well rounded team. They were up for project presentation award, had a solid rating on their robot design despite a poor run in the tech judging, scored 8th in the robot game, and obviously did well on the teamwork exercise.
That last bit was what surprised me, but it shouldn't have. This team had to learn gracious professionalism, or totally fail. I have 5 adolecent alpha males and one very quiet and thoughtful adolescent male on this team. (By quiet and thoughtful I want you to think mute, then add about 5 words a day.) We have kids on this team who actively don't like each other. There's only one boy on this team that doesn't tower over me, and I think there's some latent (or not so latent) sexism being explored. We had to share our space with a younger sibling team, and mentor them while still making progress on our own work. We had even younger siblings running around (too young to be on an FLL team) who had to be treated with respect and kindness, even when they were in the way- spying on and teasing the bigger kids.
My method of explaining my behavioral expectations centered around the Core Values and Gracious Professionalism. I told them that I expected this exceptional good behavior in and out of practice, in my home, and anywhere they were in public. I corrected poor choices when I saw them, and tried (not always successfully) to model my expectations. I expected them to control their behavior irregardless of their personal feelings. We are all committed to working together towards a common goal, and being angry with the person next to you doesn't change the fact that you must treat him with respect. This corresponds well with the First Principle in UU, and with the Golden Rule. My expectations weren't a surprise to these kids, but that didn't make it any easier to implement.
These kids earned their award. Not because they were best buds and got along so well. They earned it because they weren't, and found a way to get along and work together well anyway.
Well done team. I'm proud of you.
I slept on this. Actually I stayed awake unable to quiet the turmoil in my brain for quite a while, then entered a comatose state. I can't explain how surprised I was by how well my FLL team did at the qualifying tournament.
When I woke up, I understood better. Sleep is good that way.
This team earned their ticket to state the hard way. They were a solid well rounded team. They were up for project presentation award, had a solid rating on their robot design despite a poor run in the tech judging, scored 8th in the robot game, and obviously did well on the teamwork exercise.
That last bit was what surprised me, but it shouldn't have. This team had to learn gracious professionalism, or totally fail. I have 5 adolecent alpha males and one very quiet and thoughtful adolescent male on this team. (By quiet and thoughtful I want you to think mute, then add about 5 words a day.) We have kids on this team who actively don't like each other. There's only one boy on this team that doesn't tower over me, and I think there's some latent (or not so latent) sexism being explored. We had to share our space with a younger sibling team, and mentor them while still making progress on our own work. We had even younger siblings running around (too young to be on an FLL team) who had to be treated with respect and kindness, even when they were in the way- spying on and teasing the bigger kids.
My method of explaining my behavioral expectations centered around the Core Values and Gracious Professionalism. I told them that I expected this exceptional good behavior in and out of practice, in my home, and anywhere they were in public. I corrected poor choices when I saw them, and tried (not always successfully) to model my expectations. I expected them to control their behavior irregardless of their personal feelings. We are all committed to working together towards a common goal, and being angry with the person next to you doesn't change the fact that you must treat him with respect. This corresponds well with the First Principle in UU, and with the Golden Rule. My expectations weren't a surprise to these kids, but that didn't make it any easier to implement.
These kids earned their award. Not because they were best buds and got along so well. They earned it because they weren't, and found a way to get along and work together well anyway.
Well done team. I'm proud of you.
Monday, November 7, 2011
It's ok. Really.
Thanks so much friends. I had no idea y'all were actually reading this blog. You can stop worrying about me now. (insert Monty Python accent here please)
I got better.
Yes, I had a bad day, and I wrote about it, and I posted it. The only unusual thing was the posting bit. Bad days come, and then they go. That was the point of the post, that the bad days go just as often as they come.
I'm having a good day today. Do you want to know what a good day looks like?
Here's what we did today:
Folded a couple baskets of laundry
Check out facebook and find a new favorite mommy blog
Stark. Raving. Mad. Mommy. , lordy, I needed that today!
Went to the library
Got allergy shots for 3 kids and went to allergy doctor appointments for 2 kids got a thumbs up and one child will get to go to allergy shots every other week starting next month (Woot!)
Went to Discount Tires to have tires checked, they balanced the air in them and sent us on our way.
Took 3 bags of clothes and toys to the charity thrift shop.
Went to lunch w/ kids and husband. Said "hi" to 2 different folks from church there. (UUs are everywhere!)
Home for the afternoon, where another friend came to visit our foster kitten. She didn't end up adopting her, but the visit did prove that Kate is not demon spawn, just acting fierce at the shelter because she's so scared. So if you're interested in a playful kitten, who is good with a dog, cats, and kids, Kate's available for adoption through the Fort Collins Cat Rescue. But she's living at our house.
We dug the rest of the potatoes out of their bed, and I planted garlic there for next year. Wonder how that'll work?
Took 7 year old to his pottery class. He had very muddy shoes from the potato bed. Teacher noticed. Because it got all over the floor. Sorry about that.
Went back to Discount Tire to assure them that we needed more than air - they finally found a nail in the rear driver side tire and fixed it.
Took 1 very heavy box of children's book to used book store and got a lot of store credit for future use, read HP3 with 10 year old while we waited.
Picked up 7 year old from pottery, go home.
Dh comes back home from dropping 13 yo off at his fencing class
4/5 of us are home for dinner (thawed homemade chicken tortilla soup)
I leave to pick up 13 yo from his fencing class. It's the last of the series and he comes out sweating and carrying a king size bag of Twizzlers. It's the prize for winning the tournament! He's so happy. I love that. Also, I like Twizzlers, and there's a Mama tax on all candy.
We go home where I get to cuddle children while dh finished reading "Puck of Pooks Hill" aloud and then I get to read some more of HP3 w/ ds10. Then ds13, dh, and I go watch 2 Avatar episodes while I eat Twizzlers and the chocolate my husband gave me for our anniversary last month.
See? A good day.
I got better.
Yes, I had a bad day, and I wrote about it, and I posted it. The only unusual thing was the posting bit. Bad days come, and then they go. That was the point of the post, that the bad days go just as often as they come.
I'm having a good day today. Do you want to know what a good day looks like?
Here's what we did today:
Folded a couple baskets of laundry
Check out facebook and find a new favorite mommy blog
Stark. Raving. Mad. Mommy. , lordy, I needed that today!
Went to the library
Got allergy shots for 3 kids and went to allergy doctor appointments for 2 kids got a thumbs up and one child will get to go to allergy shots every other week starting next month (Woot!)
Went to Discount Tires to have tires checked, they balanced the air in them and sent us on our way.
Took 3 bags of clothes and toys to the charity thrift shop.
Went to lunch w/ kids and husband. Said "hi" to 2 different folks from church there. (UUs are everywhere!)
Home for the afternoon, where another friend came to visit our foster kitten. She didn't end up adopting her, but the visit did prove that Kate is not demon spawn, just acting fierce at the shelter because she's so scared. So if you're interested in a playful kitten, who is good with a dog, cats, and kids, Kate's available for adoption through the Fort Collins Cat Rescue. But she's living at our house.
We dug the rest of the potatoes out of their bed, and I planted garlic there for next year. Wonder how that'll work?
Took 7 year old to his pottery class. He had very muddy shoes from the potato bed. Teacher noticed. Because it got all over the floor. Sorry about that.
Went back to Discount Tire to assure them that we needed more than air - they finally found a nail in the rear driver side tire and fixed it.
Took 1 very heavy box of children's book to used book store and got a lot of store credit for future use, read HP3 with 10 year old while we waited.
Picked up 7 year old from pottery, go home.
Dh comes back home from dropping 13 yo off at his fencing class
4/5 of us are home for dinner (thawed homemade chicken tortilla soup)
I leave to pick up 13 yo from his fencing class. It's the last of the series and he comes out sweating and carrying a king size bag of Twizzlers. It's the prize for winning the tournament! He's so happy. I love that. Also, I like Twizzlers, and there's a Mama tax on all candy.
We go home where I get to cuddle children while dh finished reading "Puck of Pooks Hill" aloud and then I get to read some more of HP3 w/ ds10. Then ds13, dh, and I go watch 2 Avatar episodes while I eat Twizzlers and the chocolate my husband gave me for our anniversary last month.
See? A good day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
