I remember having braces. Did you have braces? Because I did. For nearly three years, I wore giant metal railroad tracks on my teeth and avoided Snickers bars and popcorn like the plague. After that, I had the retainer. I had the case for it, too... you remember, the one you had to take to school to stash your phlegmy plastic mold while you chowed down lunch, and then you had to remember not to throw it in the trash can. And then you had to do the tooth check in the bathroom mirror before you crammed the retainer back on your teeth, because otherwise you'd wind up with pepperoni pizza displayed proudly on your top left front tooth for everyone to stare at all afternoon.
Not that this ever happened to me.
A couple years ago, the dentist started hinting that perhaps, one day, I should take M1 in to see an orthodontist. At the time, he was barely 8, and there was no way I was hauling my kid to see an orthodontist until he'd lost a few more teeth.
Since then, he's lost precisely one more tooth, for a grand total of 8 teeth lost.
That's right. My 10-year-old has lost 8 teeth. Five on the bottom and three on the top. Still, the 'hints' from the dentist have become less like hints and more like suggestions/recommendations lately, and Oz and I figured it was time to go ahead and get the one free visit to the orthodontist that we'll ever get out of the way.
M1 had his appointment today. The guy was nice but clearly busy, and he seemed rather surprised that I came prepared with educated questions, which rankled me a bit. Still, he did answer everything and said that since he's lost so few teeth, there's nothing we can really do yet, anyway. Come back in 8 months.
M1's teeth aren't all that bad, really. He's missing one tooth congenitally - one of the four that I'm missing (I'm missing both top lateral incisors as well as my top two wisdom teeth) - and that's what's causing all the commotion. The dentist and orthodontist seem to think that they should let the other one, which isn't even fully developed and is called a peg lateral, come in, make space using braces, and then insert a fake tooth where the other lateral should be. Me? I'm all for yanking the peg lateral and shoving everything together. The orthodontist also wants to close gap between M1's front teeth and, if necessary, trim the muscle that pushes those teeth apart. Me? If you can't flip your tongue sideways and shove it in between your teeth like I used to be able to do (OK, so the tongue flipping is another hereditary thing, but M1 didn't get that... M2 did, though), the gap isn't big enough to worry about. *I* think it's rather cute, thankyouverymuch. No overbite. No underbite. Plenty of space. I fail to see what the fuss is about, if I'm honest.
We will go back in eight months. The consults and any follow-ups after that are complimentary, and there is the possibility that the canine could make the peg lateral come in sideways or other spacing/crowding issues could develop, so I'm not going to say it's a bad idea to keep an eye on things. Still, after what Oz and I went through to get very minor adjustments in the end... well... maybe orthodontics just isn't my cuppa tea.
Any braces experiences that you'd like to share? Were they worth it for you/your kids/your siblings?
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Monday, March 4, 2013
Forgive the Serial Posting
You'll have to forgive the serial posting that I've been doing over the past week. Apparently I had much to get out. I think after this I'll be back to a more normal schedule. At least, I hope so. Still, I have some things I need to say, and then I'm done.
I think.
I've been griping that my son (in particular, though my daughter is not immune) has been acting toddler-esque lately. And he has. But he's 10, and there are definitely some perks that come with having older kids. Without further ado...
Things I am grateful my kids have outgrown:
1. Diapers. There's nothing more to say about that.
2. Car seats. I don't have to worry if they're installed right. I don't have to worry about the food underneath them. I don't have to lift them out.
2a. They can buckle themselves in. And open and close the doors.
2b. They can haul their own crap in and out of the house and help me empty grocery carts.
3c. They can clean the vehicle if they spill something.
3. Sippy cups. Those lids are impossible to keep clean without having them develop leaks. And they leave them EVERYWHERE. At least with upright cups, even ones with lids and straws, they are normally found on a flat surface where they're visible to others.
4. Me cutting up their food. It's very nice to be able to sit down, fill plates, and eat without watching mine go cold while I mince up someone else's dinner.
4a. Me fixing breakfast.
4b. Me fixing lunch.
4c. Me fixing snacks. Do we see a theme here? I fix enough breakfasts on weekends (or sometimes overnight in the crockpot) for them to find their own meals each morning, and they enjoy scrounging for leftovers or making sandwiches for lunch. I make one meal a day. I love to cook *meals,* but the other feedings I can take or leave. And I generally prefer 'leave.' My mother I am not.
5. The "helping" phase. Don't get me wrong. M2 loves to help. But almost-8-year-old help is far more useful than 2-year-old 'help.' Standing around watching a toddler splash water around in a toilet is far more cringeworthy than handing your elementary-age child a brush, some paper towels, and a bottle of homemade cleaner and telling her to go clean the bathroom.
6.Getting up in the middle of the night. Scratch that. M1 still does it. And if I catch him, I do, too.
7. Mall play areas. They always looked like giant germ playgrounds. I took my kids once in a while, don't get me wrong. But it wasn't my favorite way to spend a morning.
8. Nursery rhymes. Again, it's cute for a while. And they're fun to reminisce about. And yes, they have a purpose. But I find them inherently nauseating, and I'm grateful my kids no longer beg for 'Farmer in the Dell' and 'Little Bunny FooFoo.' I love that they ask for The Rolling Stones or Johnny Cash or Tchaikovsky. Or Green Day. *cough*
8a. Preschool TV shows. M1 adored Teletubbies. That is all.
9. Bathtime. OK, this one I'm almost sentimental about. There's something adorable about wrapping a tiny child up in a towel and cuddling them dry. Still, my knees are grateful I'm not bending over a bathtub every night any more.
10. Teaching them to read. This sounds insane, but as much as I adore reading and I'm so grateful my kids adore reading, too, I hated teaching them to read. I am just not patient like that, and I hated watching them struggle. Also, one can only watch the Leapfrog videos so many times before CVC words and 'blends' become anathema. See 8a.
There are probably more, and of course there are a million things I miss about the kids when they were tiny (like the way I used to be able to snuggle them both on my lap comfortably for ages and ages [M1 tried to sit on my lap today while we talked about the March on Washington led by MLK Jr. and my legs almost instantly went numb]), but it's good to remember why I like the kids the age they are now, too. And I'm not nostalgic, anyway... I much prefer the here and now.
What do you miss or NOT miss most about your kids when they were young(er)?
I think.
I've been griping that my son (in particular, though my daughter is not immune) has been acting toddler-esque lately. And he has. But he's 10, and there are definitely some perks that come with having older kids. Without further ado...
Things I am grateful my kids have outgrown:
1. Diapers. There's nothing more to say about that.
2. Car seats. I don't have to worry if they're installed right. I don't have to worry about the food underneath them. I don't have to lift them out.
2a. They can buckle themselves in. And open and close the doors.
2b. They can haul their own crap in and out of the house and help me empty grocery carts.
3c. They can clean the vehicle if they spill something.
3. Sippy cups. Those lids are impossible to keep clean without having them develop leaks. And they leave them EVERYWHERE. At least with upright cups, even ones with lids and straws, they are normally found on a flat surface where they're visible to others.
4. Me cutting up their food. It's very nice to be able to sit down, fill plates, and eat without watching mine go cold while I mince up someone else's dinner.
4a. Me fixing breakfast.
4b. Me fixing lunch.
4c. Me fixing snacks. Do we see a theme here? I fix enough breakfasts on weekends (or sometimes overnight in the crockpot) for them to find their own meals each morning, and they enjoy scrounging for leftovers or making sandwiches for lunch. I make one meal a day. I love to cook *meals,* but the other feedings I can take or leave. And I generally prefer 'leave.' My mother I am not.
5. The "helping" phase. Don't get me wrong. M2 loves to help. But almost-8-year-old help is far more useful than 2-year-old 'help.' Standing around watching a toddler splash water around in a toilet is far more cringeworthy than handing your elementary-age child a brush, some paper towels, and a bottle of homemade cleaner and telling her to go clean the bathroom.
6.
7. Mall play areas. They always looked like giant germ playgrounds. I took my kids once in a while, don't get me wrong. But it wasn't my favorite way to spend a morning.
8. Nursery rhymes. Again, it's cute for a while. And they're fun to reminisce about. And yes, they have a purpose. But I find them inherently nauseating, and I'm grateful my kids no longer beg for 'Farmer in the Dell' and 'Little Bunny FooFoo.' I love that they ask for The Rolling Stones or Johnny Cash or Tchaikovsky. Or Green Day. *cough*
8a. Preschool TV shows. M1 adored Teletubbies. That is all.
9. Bathtime. OK, this one I'm almost sentimental about. There's something adorable about wrapping a tiny child up in a towel and cuddling them dry. Still, my knees are grateful I'm not bending over a bathtub every night any more.
10. Teaching them to read. This sounds insane, but as much as I adore reading and I'm so grateful my kids adore reading, too, I hated teaching them to read. I am just not patient like that, and I hated watching them struggle. Also, one can only watch the Leapfrog videos so many times before CVC words and 'blends' become anathema. See 8a.
There are probably more, and of course there are a million things I miss about the kids when they were tiny (like the way I used to be able to snuggle them both on my lap comfortably for ages and ages [M1 tried to sit on my lap today while we talked about the March on Washington led by MLK Jr. and my legs almost instantly went numb]), but it's good to remember why I like the kids the age they are now, too. And I'm not nostalgic, anyway... I much prefer the here and now.
What do you miss or NOT miss most about your kids when they were young(er)?
Back to Basics
So. If you're a fairly regular follower of this blog (or if you go back and read the last few posts), you'll see that M1, Oz and I are in the midst of (yet another) rough patch. These happen periodically, but as he gets older, the battles seem to be raging more heavily and the trenches are getting dug in rather deeply. Those of you whose children are teens already can sympathize, I'm sure.
The problem boils down to precisely this: M1 wants to be treated like an adult. He is 10 and feels that he is old enough for certain 'rights.' However, he won't accept the responsibilities that come along with the rights, and he acts like a spoiled toddler when asked to toe the line. He hasn't yet worked out that to get the 'rights' that he wants, he also has to behave in a way that makes us - Oz and I - think that he's able to handle them responsibly.
Some of this revolves around the fact that he is a 10-year-old boy. Some of it also revolves around the fact that his psychological issues that cause him to firmly believe that he is a pearl and the world is the oyster. I'm doing my darnedest to snap him out of that way of thinking, but I read a book about a year ago that strongly suggests that there is no easy way to accomplish that goal because I could dig out of Alcatraz with a spoon more quickly than I'll be able to reach the depths of M1's brain. And flogging him with a wet noodle only makes him giggle.
Still, things couldn't continue the way they did last week... or even over the weekend for that matter. (On Sunday morning M1 woke me up at 2:14 a.m. trying to steal remotes out of my bedroom [again] and shortly before several of my girlfriends came over at 2 p.m., he and his sister were playing at the top of the stairs [which we've asked/told them repeatedly NOT to do] and she came tumbling down the stairs with a beanbag. Because he pushed her. Thankfully, she's fine. Beanbags are good like that. But it did mean that instead of having an outing with Oz like they normally get to do when I have friends over, they were sent to their rooms instead.) So we're going back to basics. Obviously there are many therapy methods out there. We visited a therapist and tried cognitive behavior therapy when M1 was small, and the results were laughable. His hyperactivity and impulsivity are such that there's no way he can think before doing anything, let alone plan actions before doing them. Plus, that's more or less what I've been attempting to get him to use for the last... ohhhhh, year or so... and clearly we've gotten nowhere.
Time to try a new tactic.
I have decided that since M1 is so bound and determined to act like a toddler every time we ask him to take responsibility for his actions, he needs to be treated like one. What motivates toddlers? Sticker charts and incentives. I'm calling it applied behavioral analysis, but really it's a sticker chart with incentives.
First I had M1 make a list of his top 12 privileges. This included everything from swim team to summer camp to electronics. I had him prioritize them. Then Oz printed off a chart that I hung on the wall. There are columns for each day of the week as well as a "Total" column and a space at the beginning where I've written all 12 of M1's desired privileges, one per week. Each day has space for three small stickers that M1 can earn - up to 21 a week, though for this first week we're shooting for 14 and the maximum I'm expecting is 19. Nobody's perfect, and I don't expect him to be.
To earn his three daily stickers, he has to do three things - one for each sticker:
1. Stay in his room at night. Obviously he's allowed to get up and use the toilet if he needs to - I'm not unreasonable - but there's no need for him to be downstairs (he has small paper cups in his vanity if he wants a drink) or in the game room in the middle of the night. Nothing good can come of that.
2. Respect other people. He's had real issues lately respecting other people's space lately, particularly his sister. This one also applies to lying. If he doesn't want me to lie to him, he shouldn't lie to me, right?? This one largely revolves around remembering the Golden Rule.
3. Respect property. Don't break things. Don't dismantle things. Don't walk along all the walls deliberately trying to break the doorstops with your foot. Things like that.
That's it. I may need to get more specific, but we'll see. I'm starting broad. I can always modify and specify as we go. Each week, if he reaches his goal, he'll get one of his privileges back. If he doesn't reach it, we stay at the current level and try again the next week. At best, this program will take 12 weeks to implement, which I'm hopeful will be long enough to make some of these things into habit. I do hate that this means we'll be skipping swim for at least two weeks (his #1-priority privilege was going to our homeschool group; #2 and #3 were swim team practice and stroke development class, respectively), but if that's what it takes...
Wish me luck. It's been a while since we've done this sort of intensive work around here, but I think it's long overdue. Fingers crossed that it works, because if it doesn't, I'm all out of ideas!
The problem boils down to precisely this: M1 wants to be treated like an adult. He is 10 and feels that he is old enough for certain 'rights.' However, he won't accept the responsibilities that come along with the rights, and he acts like a spoiled toddler when asked to toe the line. He hasn't yet worked out that to get the 'rights' that he wants, he also has to behave in a way that makes us - Oz and I - think that he's able to handle them responsibly.
Some of this revolves around the fact that he is a 10-year-old boy. Some of it also revolves around the fact that his psychological issues that cause him to firmly believe that he is a pearl and the world is the oyster. I'm doing my darnedest to snap him out of that way of thinking, but I read a book about a year ago that strongly suggests that there is no easy way to accomplish that goal because I could dig out of Alcatraz with a spoon more quickly than I'll be able to reach the depths of M1's brain. And flogging him with a wet noodle only makes him giggle.
Still, things couldn't continue the way they did last week... or even over the weekend for that matter. (On Sunday morning M1 woke me up at 2:14 a.m. trying to steal remotes out of my bedroom [again] and shortly before several of my girlfriends came over at 2 p.m., he and his sister were playing at the top of the stairs [which we've asked/told them repeatedly NOT to do] and she came tumbling down the stairs with a beanbag. Because he pushed her. Thankfully, she's fine. Beanbags are good like that. But it did mean that instead of having an outing with Oz like they normally get to do when I have friends over, they were sent to their rooms instead.) So we're going back to basics. Obviously there are many therapy methods out there. We visited a therapist and tried cognitive behavior therapy when M1 was small, and the results were laughable. His hyperactivity and impulsivity are such that there's no way he can think before doing anything, let alone plan actions before doing them. Plus, that's more or less what I've been attempting to get him to use for the last... ohhhhh, year or so... and clearly we've gotten nowhere.
Time to try a new tactic.
I have decided that since M1 is so bound and determined to act like a toddler every time we ask him to take responsibility for his actions, he needs to be treated like one. What motivates toddlers? Sticker charts and incentives. I'm calling it applied behavioral analysis, but really it's a sticker chart with incentives.
First I had M1 make a list of his top 12 privileges. This included everything from swim team to summer camp to electronics. I had him prioritize them. Then Oz printed off a chart that I hung on the wall. There are columns for each day of the week as well as a "Total" column and a space at the beginning where I've written all 12 of M1's desired privileges, one per week. Each day has space for three small stickers that M1 can earn - up to 21 a week, though for this first week we're shooting for 14 and the maximum I'm expecting is 19. Nobody's perfect, and I don't expect him to be.
To earn his three daily stickers, he has to do three things - one for each sticker:
1. Stay in his room at night. Obviously he's allowed to get up and use the toilet if he needs to - I'm not unreasonable - but there's no need for him to be downstairs (he has small paper cups in his vanity if he wants a drink) or in the game room in the middle of the night. Nothing good can come of that.
2. Respect other people. He's had real issues lately respecting other people's space lately, particularly his sister. This one also applies to lying. If he doesn't want me to lie to him, he shouldn't lie to me, right?? This one largely revolves around remembering the Golden Rule.
3. Respect property. Don't break things. Don't dismantle things. Don't walk along all the walls deliberately trying to break the doorstops with your foot. Things like that.
That's it. I may need to get more specific, but we'll see. I'm starting broad. I can always modify and specify as we go. Each week, if he reaches his goal, he'll get one of his privileges back. If he doesn't reach it, we stay at the current level and try again the next week. At best, this program will take 12 weeks to implement, which I'm hopeful will be long enough to make some of these things into habit. I do hate that this means we'll be skipping swim for at least two weeks (his #1-priority privilege was going to our homeschool group; #2 and #3 were swim team practice and stroke development class, respectively), but if that's what it takes...
Wish me luck. It's been a while since we've done this sort of intensive work around here, but I think it's long overdue. Fingers crossed that it works, because if it doesn't, I'm all out of ideas!
Friday, March 1, 2013
Drill Sergeant Mama
I hate being tough. I am naturally a very Type A person and enjoy things being done 'just so,' but I've learned to let some things go.
Still, sometimes I hit my wall. They're kids. They push. It's what they're supposed to do, and I get that. But still, you can only shove me so far before I hit my limit, and I've absolutely been forced to the wall this week.
And when my back's to the wall and my fight or flight instinct kicks in, I fight. (Ask Oz and M1 both. Scare me, and I will deck you first and check to see who it is later.)
Yesterday, obviously, was a struggle. M1 finally got his schoolwork done sometime around 5... or I thought he had. We had dinner, and then I asked to see the last piece of work. No dice. So back upstairs he went. He's had all week to work on this particular project, so it should have been nearly completed, but it wasn't. It still took him half an hour to finish the part that needed to be done so he could complete the work in a timely manner today.
When tucking him in last night, I noticed that there were a couple of things sticking out from under his closet doors. Drawers in his chest of drawers and dresser were hanging open. I saw a couple of items peeking out from under his bed. As I walked to the closet, I told him that he needed to take care of those things that I could immediately see.
Then I opened the closet door.
I should not have done that.
Ignorance was bliss.
I'm okay with a slightly untidy closet. But this was Fat Man unleashed. Everything was piled on the floor about a foot deep. It reminded me of a closet a friend of mine once actually went diving into; we had to hang onto her legs so we could pull her out when she'd unearthed what she was looking for.
I was good. I closed the door and simply informed him that he had to clean his closet tomorrow (today). He had known he needed to do it, so he didn't argue. I put him to bed and hoped the next day would be better.
I should have guessed. This morning, the poo really hit the fan.
It started with laundry. Fridays are one of my two weekly laundry days. I ask the kids to bring down their hampers, I sort the clothes, and I start the first load before we go upstairs for school. For their part, other than bringing down the hampers, the kids have to make sure all the clothes are right side out, so I can check for stains, and have empty pockets. M2 has no problem with this. Once in a while I'll find something, but for the most part she takes care of things when she puts them in the hamper. M1, however, panics every. single. time. He has to dump everything out, turn them all right side out and check the pockets (because nothing ever goes into the hamper in the condition it should be when it comes out), and then he takes the entire load, knots it together inside a few hoodies or pairs of jeans, and shoves it back into the hamper. When I try to pull one item out of his hamper, it takes brute strength and both hands and feet to accomplish that. Or I have to dump it all on the floor and then separate it, which takes me three times as long as just pulling things out. Either way, I hate it. I have asked him repeatedly to stop. Today I told him I wasn't fighting his laundry. He could do it himself. He's capable of it; he's done it before. Still, he wasn't happy. Much squawking commenced.
Then... both kids know that I try to start school at 8:30. If we start around that time, we can usually get done by lunch or shortly thereafter and have the afternoon to go to swim, run errands, or just play. I've told them that they need to figure out what time they should get up so they can be ready by 8:30. Give or take 10 minutes, we're usually on time. Lately, though - and I know this is partly due to M1's growth spurt, but still - he's been coming down later and later each morning, and school time has been getting pushed back little by little. I've warned him this has to stop, because an 8:45-8:50 start time translates to an hour later on the other end somehow, but today, I hit my limit. At 8:21, he had just sat down at the table with a giant bowl of cereal. The cats had been fed and he was dressed (whether his pajamas were put away or not was debatable...), but he still had a couple of chores to accomplish before he was ready for school. On a good day, these two chores take him 10 minutes because he can't walk in a straight line, let alone do a chore in an orderly manner. So at 8:24, I told him he was done. "QUAWWWWW??!??" (No, really, that's his response to things when he doesn't like them.) He threw a giant toddler tantrum when I asked him to put his breakfast things away and get his chores done so we could get school started in a timely manner, complete with stomping upstairs (which I made him walk back down and climb again calmly) and hooting incessantly (that one I can't stop and am fine with as long as he's not calling people names). At 8:39, we made it to to the school room. Not great, but better than our average lately.
Then... I find him drawing all over his math page. Not a big deal except that he draws all over his math page and finding the chicken-scratched answers in the midst of sketches is nearly impossible, so I've asked him to stop. I always make sure he has scratch paper available and have asked him, if he must draw, to draw on that. Still, he ignores me. And he knows he's ignoring me. And *I* know he knows he's ignoring me because he was hiding the drawing behind his hand so I wouldn't see it. So he's having to redo his entire math paper so I can read it. Cue another tantrum.
In the midst of all this, I discover that M2's been eating straight out of the sugar bowl again. Literally taking a spoon and eating straight sugar. She only does this when her moods are completely out of whack and she's craving carbs like there's no tomorrow. I strongly suspect that sometime in the next few days, I will wind up with a raging girl-child again. Thankfully I've been working on my arm strength. I have a feeling I'm going to need it.
I hate all the nitpicking. I don't think I'm being unreasonable with anything I've - repeatedly - asked the kids to do. Mostly, I'm really, really sick of repeating myself ad nauseum. Drill Sergeant Mama is here for a while. And when she ain't happy... well... you know the drill.
Still, sometimes I hit my wall. They're kids. They push. It's what they're supposed to do, and I get that. But still, you can only shove me so far before I hit my limit, and I've absolutely been forced to the wall this week.
And when my back's to the wall and my fight or flight instinct kicks in, I fight. (Ask Oz and M1 both. Scare me, and I will deck you first and check to see who it is later.)
Yesterday, obviously, was a struggle. M1 finally got his schoolwork done sometime around 5... or I thought he had. We had dinner, and then I asked to see the last piece of work. No dice. So back upstairs he went. He's had all week to work on this particular project, so it should have been nearly completed, but it wasn't. It still took him half an hour to finish the part that needed to be done so he could complete the work in a timely manner today.
When tucking him in last night, I noticed that there were a couple of things sticking out from under his closet doors. Drawers in his chest of drawers and dresser were hanging open. I saw a couple of items peeking out from under his bed. As I walked to the closet, I told him that he needed to take care of those things that I could immediately see.
Then I opened the closet door.
I should not have done that.
Ignorance was bliss.
I'm okay with a slightly untidy closet. But this was Fat Man unleashed. Everything was piled on the floor about a foot deep. It reminded me of a closet a friend of mine once actually went diving into; we had to hang onto her legs so we could pull her out when she'd unearthed what she was looking for.
I was good. I closed the door and simply informed him that he had to clean his closet tomorrow (today). He had known he needed to do it, so he didn't argue. I put him to bed and hoped the next day would be better.
I should have guessed. This morning, the poo really hit the fan.
It started with laundry. Fridays are one of my two weekly laundry days. I ask the kids to bring down their hampers, I sort the clothes, and I start the first load before we go upstairs for school. For their part, other than bringing down the hampers, the kids have to make sure all the clothes are right side out, so I can check for stains, and have empty pockets. M2 has no problem with this. Once in a while I'll find something, but for the most part she takes care of things when she puts them in the hamper. M1, however, panics every. single. time. He has to dump everything out, turn them all right side out and check the pockets (because nothing ever goes into the hamper in the condition it should be when it comes out), and then he takes the entire load, knots it together inside a few hoodies or pairs of jeans, and shoves it back into the hamper. When I try to pull one item out of his hamper, it takes brute strength and both hands and feet to accomplish that. Or I have to dump it all on the floor and then separate it, which takes me three times as long as just pulling things out. Either way, I hate it. I have asked him repeatedly to stop. Today I told him I wasn't fighting his laundry. He could do it himself. He's capable of it; he's done it before. Still, he wasn't happy. Much squawking commenced.
Then... both kids know that I try to start school at 8:30. If we start around that time, we can usually get done by lunch or shortly thereafter and have the afternoon to go to swim, run errands, or just play. I've told them that they need to figure out what time they should get up so they can be ready by 8:30. Give or take 10 minutes, we're usually on time. Lately, though - and I know this is partly due to M1's growth spurt, but still - he's been coming down later and later each morning, and school time has been getting pushed back little by little. I've warned him this has to stop, because an 8:45-8:50 start time translates to an hour later on the other end somehow, but today, I hit my limit. At 8:21, he had just sat down at the table with a giant bowl of cereal. The cats had been fed and he was dressed (whether his pajamas were put away or not was debatable...), but he still had a couple of chores to accomplish before he was ready for school. On a good day, these two chores take him 10 minutes because he can't walk in a straight line, let alone do a chore in an orderly manner. So at 8:24, I told him he was done. "QUAWWWWW??!??" (No, really, that's his response to things when he doesn't like them.) He threw a giant toddler tantrum when I asked him to put his breakfast things away and get his chores done so we could get school started in a timely manner, complete with stomping upstairs (which I made him walk back down and climb again calmly) and hooting incessantly (that one I can't stop and am fine with as long as he's not calling people names). At 8:39, we made it to to the school room. Not great, but better than our average lately.
Then... I find him drawing all over his math page. Not a big deal except that he draws all over his math page and finding the chicken-scratched answers in the midst of sketches is nearly impossible, so I've asked him to stop. I always make sure he has scratch paper available and have asked him, if he must draw, to draw on that. Still, he ignores me. And he knows he's ignoring me. And *I* know he knows he's ignoring me because he was hiding the drawing behind his hand so I wouldn't see it. So he's having to redo his entire math paper so I can read it. Cue another tantrum.
In the midst of all this, I discover that M2's been eating straight out of the sugar bowl again. Literally taking a spoon and eating straight sugar. She only does this when her moods are completely out of whack and she's craving carbs like there's no tomorrow. I strongly suspect that sometime in the next few days, I will wind up with a raging girl-child again. Thankfully I've been working on my arm strength. I have a feeling I'm going to need it.
I hate all the nitpicking. I don't think I'm being unreasonable with anything I've - repeatedly - asked the kids to do. Mostly, I'm really, really sick of repeating myself ad nauseum. Drill Sergeant Mama is here for a while. And when she ain't happy... well... you know the drill.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Proverbs Ring True
Pride goeth before a fall, says the adage, and nowhere is that more true than here this week. I posted earlier this week that I was proud of M1. Now, I am full of disappointment, and because I blog all my life - the good, the bad, and the ugly - I need somewhere to vent my frustration.
Ahh, the anonymity of a blog and the kindness of readers. I know (OK, I hope) you'll sympathize, even if you can't really understand.
I discovered yesterday that M1 has been sneaking into my room at night - AGAIN - and stealing the remote - AGAIN - and using it to try to watch TV in the middle of the night.
AGAIN.
Now, Oz and I have parental controls set so that the kids can only watch TV during normal, human-functioning hours, so he wasn't able to get anywhere with that, but apparently he spent a good chunk of time learning how to delete game history and playing Wii games. *sigh*
Then today he asked for his math worksheet. We use MUS, and I use the 'test' pages as a final review of the material in each lesson. He asked for the test. I handed it to him. Five minutes later, he handed it back, complete and utterly correct, which is UNHEARD of for him, especially since it was neatly written and there was a plethora of difficult multiplication involved (squaring 63, for instance, as part of finding the area of a circle), which I know takes him several minutes to complete by itself.
So I asked him to hand over his scratch paper notebook. As I flip through it, knowing what I'm going to find, I thought I'd give him a chance to 'fess up.
"You're cheating, aren't you?" I asked.
"Nope."
"M1, there's no way you could finish that work that quickly. Show me your work."
"It's... all throughout the book. It's not just on one page." (This is probably true, as I know he does flip around when working, but I wasn't buying it today.)
"M1, did you come in here in the middle of the night and get the answer book and cheat?"
"Nope."
About that time I found the page. Numbered neatly 1-18 with all the answers listed next to it, the evidence was staring me in the face.
"M1, what's this?"
"Oh, that's just the answers copied down before I put them on the paper."
*sigh*
"M1, WHY????"
"I dunno..."
I do not punish for bad 'grades.' It only shows me that we need more practice on a concept. M1 KNOWS THIS. So I just don't understand.
I simply don't understand the lying, the cheating, the sneaking, the stealing, the hiding, and - like I said - the lying. I don't understand how he can want to be treated like an adult and be left alone... and then turn around and act like a toddler who has to be monitored 24/7. There's pushing boundaries, and then there's this. This is beyond pushing boundaries. And I'm lost.
Pass the Bailey's. I need a stiff'ner.
Ahh, the anonymity of a blog and the kindness of readers. I know (OK, I hope) you'll sympathize, even if you can't really understand.
I discovered yesterday that M1 has been sneaking into my room at night - AGAIN - and stealing the remote - AGAIN - and using it to try to watch TV in the middle of the night.
AGAIN.
Now, Oz and I have parental controls set so that the kids can only watch TV during normal, human-functioning hours, so he wasn't able to get anywhere with that, but apparently he spent a good chunk of time learning how to delete game history and playing Wii games. *sigh*
Then today he asked for his math worksheet. We use MUS, and I use the 'test' pages as a final review of the material in each lesson. He asked for the test. I handed it to him. Five minutes later, he handed it back, complete and utterly correct, which is UNHEARD of for him, especially since it was neatly written and there was a plethora of difficult multiplication involved (squaring 63, for instance, as part of finding the area of a circle), which I know takes him several minutes to complete by itself.
So I asked him to hand over his scratch paper notebook. As I flip through it, knowing what I'm going to find, I thought I'd give him a chance to 'fess up.
"You're cheating, aren't you?" I asked.
"Nope."
"M1, there's no way you could finish that work that quickly. Show me your work."
"It's... all throughout the book. It's not just on one page." (This is probably true, as I know he does flip around when working, but I wasn't buying it today.)
"M1, did you come in here in the middle of the night and get the answer book and cheat?"
"Nope."
About that time I found the page. Numbered neatly 1-18 with all the answers listed next to it, the evidence was staring me in the face.
"M1, what's this?"
"Oh, that's just the answers copied down before I put them on the paper."
*sigh*
"M1, WHY????"
"I dunno..."
I do not punish for bad 'grades.' It only shows me that we need more practice on a concept. M1 KNOWS THIS. So I just don't understand.
I simply don't understand the lying, the cheating, the sneaking, the stealing, the hiding, and - like I said - the lying. I don't understand how he can want to be treated like an adult and be left alone... and then turn around and act like a toddler who has to be monitored 24/7. There's pushing boundaries, and then there's this. This is beyond pushing boundaries. And I'm lost.
Pass the Bailey's. I need a stiff'ner.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Procrastination; or, The Phone Is My Enemy
I despise making phone calls. It's funny, because when I was a teenager, my parents couldn't get me off the phone if they tried, and now my husband can't even get me to call the pizza guy.
Oh, the way things change.
I tell him that when I was a journalist, I used up my phone quota talking to everyone under the sun all day long, but I think the truth is that unless I have a purpose, I just don't care to call people. When I had to conduct interviews, I had my questions more or less prepared so I knew what I was going to say. There was a purpose. And I see no purpose in calling one pizza company when others have online ordering forms available. I very, very rarely call even my best friends because I worry that either I'll call at a bad time or they'll answer and I'll discover I have nothing to say. Casual acquaintances don't have a chance.
A month ago, I got an e-mail from my eye doctor saying it was time for my annual check-up. Early last week I got a reminder card from M1's eye doctor saying he was due for a check-up as well. I also needed to schedule M2's 8-year well-child check and call an orthodontist for a consultation about M1's teeth.
I would like to suggest that someone develop a program like OpenTable for doctors. But that's just me.
Anyway, I decided that TODAY IS THE DAY. At 9 a.m., I set Project Scheduling into motion. First I called the pediatrician's office, because I know all the front office staff by sight, if not by name. M2 now has a well-child check scheduled. Then I called my eye doctor and got to talk to an answering machine, which I don't mind at all because I know what to say to them. They're predictable. Third I called M1's eye doctor; he now has an appointment scheduled there. And I'm about to call an orthodontist who, ironically, does have an online appointment system available, but I'm leery of using it since we're new patients. Even I can concede that sometimes talking to a real live person is more useful than using the Interwebz, now matter how convenient it may be.
There's still part of me that's squirming inside. If it wasn't in the name of medical necessity, I doubt I'd be doing all this. I'd probably just put it off till tomorrow. Again.
I just have to put on my grown-up pants today.
Someone tell me to get moving.
Oh, the way things change.
I tell him that when I was a journalist, I used up my phone quota talking to everyone under the sun all day long, but I think the truth is that unless I have a purpose, I just don't care to call people. When I had to conduct interviews, I had my questions more or less prepared so I knew what I was going to say. There was a purpose. And I see no purpose in calling one pizza company when others have online ordering forms available. I very, very rarely call even my best friends because I worry that either I'll call at a bad time or they'll answer and I'll discover I have nothing to say. Casual acquaintances don't have a chance.
A month ago, I got an e-mail from my eye doctor saying it was time for my annual check-up. Early last week I got a reminder card from M1's eye doctor saying he was due for a check-up as well. I also needed to schedule M2's 8-year well-child check and call an orthodontist for a consultation about M1's teeth.
I would like to suggest that someone develop a program like OpenTable for doctors. But that's just me.
Anyway, I decided that TODAY IS THE DAY. At 9 a.m., I set Project Scheduling into motion. First I called the pediatrician's office, because I know all the front office staff by sight, if not by name. M2 now has a well-child check scheduled. Then I called my eye doctor and got to talk to an answering machine, which I don't mind at all because I know what to say to them. They're predictable. Third I called M1's eye doctor; he now has an appointment scheduled there. And I'm about to call an orthodontist who, ironically, does have an online appointment system available, but I'm leery of using it since we're new patients. Even I can concede that sometimes talking to a real live person is more useful than using the Interwebz, now matter how convenient it may be.
There's still part of me that's squirming inside. If it wasn't in the name of medical necessity, I doubt I'd be doing all this. I'd probably just put it off till tomorrow. Again.
I just have to put on my grown-up pants today.
Someone tell me to get moving.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Little Moments of Pride
I absolutely love it when the children surprise me with little things that they do or want to do or are capable of doing.
M2, for example, surprised the heck out of me this week. We've been discussing the spring violin solo competition with her teacher, and she'd been leaning toward doing a short song that she already knows quite well. It wouldn't take long to work up, and - like I said - it's short. She always gets very, very nervous during solo competitions, and so she tends to choose short, easier songs so that she has a little less pressure looming overhead.
So imagine my shock this week when she changed her mind and insisted that she wants to play the song she's just finished learning. It's long, first of all, with several repeats as well as a 'DC al fine' to polish it off. Secondly, she's just finished learning it. There are only six weeks till the regional competition, and if she does well there, she'll go to state later in the spring with the same piece. Six weeks sounds like a long time to work up a piece until you realize that at the same time, she's working on two other pieces for the teacher's spring recital AND has selected another piece to learn and play for her solo at the recital (which, unlike the competition piece, doesn't have to be memorized). And sometime in there, the teacher's likely to have her start refreshing several other pieces for the spring recital as well.
She'll also take the music theory test for the first time this year. Her teacher's been handing out worksheets each week, and M2 has taken to them quite nicely.
She's good, my girl, and I'm really proud of her for putting herself out there like this. I can only hope that she doesn't start freaking out sometime between now and then.
M1 is making me proud, too. Last night, he made eclairs. Strawberry eclairs. I had to teach him how to use a piping bag, but other than that, he did it all himself and cleaned up the kitchen afterward. I love that part the most, I think, and the eclairs themselves were absolutely delicious. He wants to try to make blueberry or raspberry eclairs sometime soon. I'm not about to argue with him.
Then yesterday we got a nasty piece of news. At one of his swim meets recently, he did very well at breaststroke, which is his favorite stroke. He won his heat by quite a long shot and had great hopes of winning an overall ribbon. However, when I got the results and started looking for his name, I discovered that he'd been disqualified.
I was angry at first, but I took a deep breath and texted the coach, who gave me a quick, if somewhat vague, explanation and promised to talk to me about it in person. Which meant I had to tell M1 what had happened. I told him over lunch today, and while he teared up initially, he seemed to get past it quickly. I promised him that the coach would talk to him about it, and he asked if he still got to keep his heat ribbon. I said yes. (I didn't know for sure at the time, but they were going to get that back over my dead body. I didn't have to worry, but still...). Anyway, we went to practice, and the coach did indeed talk to M1 and me about the problem and helped M1 learn what to do so it wouldn't happen again. Overall, the coach acknowledged that it's not a normal situation and several kids were dinged for penalties that aren't supposed to exist in our beginner league... but... M1 wasn't upset. I was set to go all Mama Lion on the judges and league leaders and see if I could get things fixed, but M1 showed me that there was no need. He's really okay with things. He understands that it isn't fair and that sometimes we have to fight for injustice, but he also knows that there's another meet coming up in a couple of months and he can try again then. And he let it go.
I'm really stinking proud of my kiddos for pushing their emotional, experiential, and mental limits. They're acting really grown up this week.
Remind me about this next time I gripe. Thanks :)
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Failure
What is failure, anyway?
Is it active - the inability do something - or passive - the feeling that we didn't accomplish the goals we set out to achieve? Is it internal - self-acknowledgement of failure - or external - something we're told by someone else?
Or is it just imaginary, a state of mind we only visit when we feel completely hopeless?
By many accounts, yesterday would have been considered an epic failure at our house. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, and while chores and/or assignments did eventually get accomplished, I don't think there was much of a sense of ownership and pride in getting them done. They were just things to be ticked off of a list. And that isn't my goal at all.
Here's the thing, though: I don't really believe in failure. When M1 was just a tiny wee lad, I had a friend tell me something that's stuck with me ever since. Her mother-in-law, I believe, told it to her; the wisdom of the ages being passed through the generations. She said, "You can't screw up a child in one day. Take everything one minute, one hour, or one day at a time, and let the past go." I believe in that.
When I get up each morning, I never know what that day holds. I'd like to say that I wake up with never-flagging optimism and greet everyone cheerfully, ready to tackle the problems each new day brings. It wouldn't be true, though. I'm not a morning person, and I'm not particularly optimistic in general. I read a book about correcting negative thinking in children recently, but if I'm honest, I need to utilize the methods as much as I need to teach the children to use them. It's easy for me to get caught in the downward spiral of pessimism and guilt and ugly thoughts, and I hate to see those reflected in the kids. Still, even in moments of utter despair, when I think that the kids are never going to manage to reach adulthood with any sense of responsibility and ownership, I think to myself that the next day is a new day. I believe it was Anne of Green Gables who said that "tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet," but I echo that sentiment to myself when I feel so incredibly down that I wonder if up is even possible.
Yesterday was ugly, yes. Today had the potential to be just the same. But it isn't. And if I carried the mistakes and concerns of yesterday over to today, we'd be stuck in a very nasty place and never feel like we could get out of the hole we'd dug ourselves into.
Maybe that is what failure is - holding onto mistakes and not moving past them.
I'm not doing that.
So maybe, just maybe, I'm a successful parent.
It's a good thought to have.
Is it active - the inability do something - or passive - the feeling that we didn't accomplish the goals we set out to achieve? Is it internal - self-acknowledgement of failure - or external - something we're told by someone else?
Or is it just imaginary, a state of mind we only visit when we feel completely hopeless?
By many accounts, yesterday would have been considered an epic failure at our house. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, and while chores and/or assignments did eventually get accomplished, I don't think there was much of a sense of ownership and pride in getting them done. They were just things to be ticked off of a list. And that isn't my goal at all.
Here's the thing, though: I don't really believe in failure. When M1 was just a tiny wee lad, I had a friend tell me something that's stuck with me ever since. Her mother-in-law, I believe, told it to her; the wisdom of the ages being passed through the generations. She said, "You can't screw up a child in one day. Take everything one minute, one hour, or one day at a time, and let the past go." I believe in that.
When I get up each morning, I never know what that day holds. I'd like to say that I wake up with never-flagging optimism and greet everyone cheerfully, ready to tackle the problems each new day brings. It wouldn't be true, though. I'm not a morning person, and I'm not particularly optimistic in general. I read a book about correcting negative thinking in children recently, but if I'm honest, I need to utilize the methods as much as I need to teach the children to use them. It's easy for me to get caught in the downward spiral of pessimism and guilt and ugly thoughts, and I hate to see those reflected in the kids. Still, even in moments of utter despair, when I think that the kids are never going to manage to reach adulthood with any sense of responsibility and ownership, I think to myself that the next day is a new day. I believe it was Anne of Green Gables who said that "tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet," but I echo that sentiment to myself when I feel so incredibly down that I wonder if up is even possible.
Yesterday was ugly, yes. Today had the potential to be just the same. But it isn't. And if I carried the mistakes and concerns of yesterday over to today, we'd be stuck in a very nasty place and never feel like we could get out of the hole we'd dug ourselves into.
Maybe that is what failure is - holding onto mistakes and not moving past them.
I'm not doing that.
So maybe, just maybe, I'm a successful parent.
It's a good thought to have.
Monday, February 11, 2013
A Week Off
We're taking this week off of school. It sounds lovely and relaxing, right?
HAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!
This morning, I got up at 8, which is slightly later than normal but not by much. Since then, I have:
Now I'm off to change clothes and make myself look decent so I can take M2 to her grandmother's and then go to lunch with friends, some of whom I haven't seen in ages.
Tomorrow is going to be busy, too. It's Mardi Gras, so I've promised the crew jambalaya. Even though we aren't doing school lessons, they still have violin and swimming lessons/practice, and I need to clean out the fish tank as well. I've also promised to take the kids to the aquarium sometime this week, since they both desperately want to see the new sea turtle exhibit, and on Friday we're going to meet with some friends to perform at an assisted living facility for Valentine's Day. Oh, and Thursday IS Valentine's Day, for which I still have precisely squat in the way of plans.
And to think that I had big dreams of studying German and working on my story all week.
I should know better. Still, if I can get all this stuff whipped into shape this week, maybe next week won't be so bad... right?
HAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!
This morning, I got up at 8, which is slightly later than normal but not by much. Since then, I have:
- Folded and put away 2 loads of laundry that I sorted and washed last night
- Made more laundry detergent
- Cleaned and refilled the litter boxes
- Trimmed the boy's hag claws, otherwise known as fingernails
- Discussed personal responsibility with the boy (again) after making a disgusting discovery that I promised him I wouldn't reveal
- Exercised
- Called our attorney (well, OK, I called his wife/secretary) to discuss changes to our trust
- Made sure the girl was properly packed for an overnight trip to Grandma's
- Made sure the boy was properly packed for his swim meet
- Taught the children how to repot plants; M1 then repotted his bamboo and set it out front
Now I'm off to change clothes and make myself look decent so I can take M2 to her grandmother's and then go to lunch with friends, some of whom I haven't seen in ages.
Tomorrow is going to be busy, too. It's Mardi Gras, so I've promised the crew jambalaya. Even though we aren't doing school lessons, they still have violin and swimming lessons/practice, and I need to clean out the fish tank as well. I've also promised to take the kids to the aquarium sometime this week, since they both desperately want to see the new sea turtle exhibit, and on Friday we're going to meet with some friends to perform at an assisted living facility for Valentine's Day. Oh, and Thursday IS Valentine's Day, for which I still have precisely squat in the way of plans.
And to think that I had big dreams of studying German and working on my story all week.
I should know better. Still, if I can get all this stuff whipped into shape this week, maybe next week won't be so bad... right?
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Babies and February
'Tis the season for babies, you know. Thankfully the only babies around here are of the non-human variety. I don't even want to think about what my life would be like with an infant. I barely have time to breathe as it is; fitting a baby into the schedule (and the house, if I'm honest) is a horror story I'm not even going to consider.
Can you tell I'm all done having kids?? No regrets here.
Still, it's fun to see all the babies hatching and growing right now.
The mommy mollie has had two babies so far... that have survived. They're both swimming happily around the tank with their friends...
... the baby guppies. This is one of two infants, but we have three 'adolescent' guppy babies as well. Two of those are male, and one is female. We don't know which gender the infants are yet. I'm kind of excited to find out.
My plants are, by and large, growing rapidly as well. I'm going to have to spend some time this weekend cleaning out the garden patches and getting them ready, as these guys should be ready to thin and transfer to bigger containers sometime in the next week or two, and they'll be ready to put in the garden in about a month, I think, if the weather stays warm like it has been and I can get them hardened off properly. That's always the part I struggle with the most.
When I was outside the other day, I took my camera with me. It's too early for tadpoles yet, but I wanted a few pictures of the creek, just for fun. After all, if we have another summer like the last two years, seeing water in it may be a rarity.
Also... I like birch trees. They're fun.
Who can believe it's February already? Anyone else wondering what on earth to do for Valentine's Day?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)