Holpineville

‘Cause I’m a Natural Woman

We camped!  Three nights!  And I had fun!  Really! 

Okay, so it was not exactly roughing it, only a few hundred yards away from a hot (if yucky looking) shower and flush toilets.  The weather was wonderful except when we were close to frozen at night, it was a pretty enough state park, and we found lots to do:  we rode horses!  We rode bikes!  We hiked!  We visited the playground!  We rented a boat!  Carl swam!  (Everyone else was smart enough to stay out of the freezing cold lake.)  The kids played harmoniously together the whole time, and made friends with a girl from the neighboring campsite.  We made a fire and s’mores every night, thereby making sure that I would not burn off one extra calorie the whole trip. 

Even though we all had a great time, and probably we will go again from time to time, camping still seems weirdly fake to me—“let me leave my pampered upper-middle-class existence and go prove I can live without central air…but not without my fancy gear!  And not too far from a flush toilet!”—and I never fail to be impressed by how much hassle it all is.  It took us days of joint effort to plan, shop and pack for it.  We ended up buying more supplies than I thought we would.  Rod barely got everything into and onto his car.  To go when the weather was pleasant during the day and relatively bug free, we had to endure very cold temperatures at night, and even with the ultra deluxe old lady orthopedic camping mattress Rod got me, it was still not a comfy way to sleep.  Imagine me, eyes red from campfire smoke, stabbing pains in my back and legs, huddled into my jacket and three blankets, with one arm pinned between Carl and the cold ground,  the attached exposed hand nearly frozen solid, attempting to will Ruby’s top blanket back onto her body using my brain waves alone, and listening to Rod snore…. Then, there’s all that setting up and taking down, and a giant mountain of laundry to do back at home.

But the days were so nice.  Peaceful, even in a full-up camping area.  Relaxing, mostly.  A good change of pace.

And now we are home, and the kids are at back at school today. I am debating which termite company to hire and dealing with taxes, school committees, errands, summer plans, and many other uninspiring issues.  Rod thinks he’s heading to the UK in a few days, and I am trying to be a brave little soldier about it even though he will be gone at least a week, I’ll bet.  We signed a lease for our rental property, which is a relief.  Of course, it's not my ideal lease, but at least it’ll staunch the financial bleeding for another year.  We’ve been working on little projects around the house and there is another flock of doctor/dentist/etc appointments on the calendar.  The kids have swimming lessons in April, which will suck up a bunch of time.  Writing this all down is not improving my mood.  I think maybe I need a date night?  A fun new project?  (Free) weekend trip?

Gee, Thanks Mom, I Feel So Much Better Now

Where is the instruction manual?  And why do I feel so completely unable to help with even the tiny mental bruises of first grade?  My kid really needs a much cooler, savvier, people-person sort of parent.  Rod and I as to social skills are as packing only a plastic knife and my kids’ hippo play tent is to a trek up Mt. Everest.

Poor sweet Ruby has these minor people problems, and she tells me about them, and we talk, and I don’t think I’m much help at all. Certainly I can’t fix what already happened, and I can’t slip into her skin and verbally smack some twerp around for her. 

One issue is a friend in her class.  Ruby says her friend is only really nice to her outside of school, so Ruby gets desperate to have play dates, and when we can’t have  a play date for one scheduling reason or another, she is very, very upset.  I ask, “what do you mean, she’s not nice to you at school?” and the story seems to be that her friend resorts to the cold-shoulder, I’m-not-your-friend-anymore style of emotional blackmail whenever Ruby doesn’t dance to her tune at school.  Ruby’s probably leaving out the parts about how she tries to boss her friend around, but even so, this description and Ruby’s sobbing over it makes me all het up on her behalf.  “Ruby!”  I say.  “Real friends don’t say things like that to each other.  Why do you want to play with someone who treats you badly most of the day?” Somehow, this doesn’t make her see the light and fix everything. 

So I mumble some more about how friends should treat each other, and how it’s not healthy or kind to act like her friend does, and maybe she needs to find other people to spend time with, and what happened when you talked with your teacher about it, and blah, blah, blah.  And nothing ever seems to change, but what am I really expecting, anyway?

And then yesterday, Ruby was very upset because she was trying to help someone at school with a project, accidentally made a big mess and got hollered at by the teacher because 1) she didn’t ask the teacher if she could help her classmate and in fact wasn’t supposed to , and 2) the mess.  I suspect the teacher was also having a rough day for other reasons.  So Ruby, being her mother’s overly-sensitive daughter and also wholly unaccustomed to being in trouble at school, got all “sad” and embarrassed and choked up, and went to hide under a table.  And then all her classmates came to check on her, which only added to the embarrassment and shame.  I’m not sure exactly how Ruby got out from under the table, but she said she did talk to her teacher about why she hid there (“because when you were using that angry voice it made me feel like it does when my dad gets all mean and yells [n.b.: he doesn’t really yell, but sometimes he does get emphatic enough to upset Little Miss Sensitive...Lord knows what her teacher thinks about Ruby’s parents now]).” So last night Ruby was worried about going back to school and having all her classmates bring it up today.

What could I say?  Yes, they’re probably going to bring it up, some because they were worried about you, and some just to tease you.  We talk about the three ways to respond to teasing (thank you, whichever parenting magazine printed that article): a) ignore, b) agree and joke, c) confront, preferably in a way that makes the teaser as uncomfortable as possible.  I suggest things she can say if people ask about it.  I doubt she’ll use any of them.

And then I tell Ruby about the time I burst into tears in third grade, when we were square dancing in music class (the dancing part was fun, but it was stressful because no one ever wanted to be my partner) and I suddenly couldn’t remember the number of the group I was supposed to be in when the teacher asked me.   It sounds like nothing now, but I can still feel it, the sudden shock of not knowing the answer to the question eclipsing my relief that none of the kids was being nasty to me that day, the teacher’s grumpy tone, and then the embarrassment of not being able to stop crying.  At the time, I wanted to be under a table, too.  I wish the experience had given me something to offer besides empathy.

Just to Cover All the Bases, I'll Ask the Internet

My kids' school needs a new principal, and it needs to be someone really great: willing to get fully behind the Montessori concept, polished enough to be a good spokesperson and promoter of the school, managerial enough to keep the office running well and the budget out of the red, and good at dealing with parents and kids.  Do you know anyone who fits the bill? Send 'em my way, fast. And if you have non-obvious ideas on where to look, do tell.

Bribery: How to Make it Work for Me

When is it a good idea to use a motivational chart for your kid? 

I admit I am by nature opposed.  First, it is work for Mommy, making the chart, charting whatever you’re charting, overseeing the rewards or lack thereof.  Second, most of the tasks I am considering charting are things I think my kids should be doing without external motivation.   I don’t want them to turn into those people who never do anything without a carrot dangling in front of their noses.  Also, I don’t respond well to charts and reward systems myself; somehow it reminds me of calorie counting or something. But lots of parents I know swear by them, including some child psychologists I know, so maybe I just am not doing it right.

Ruby’s friend has a really elaborate performance chart right now, with lots of cool prizes in the friend’s future, if she will just get her work done—both at school and at home.  Friend’s parents, who tend to be anxious in this area, feel like she’s not working hard enough in general.  Ruby is jealous of the promised rewards and seems to want a chart, too.  I explained that I don’t think she needs one; in contrast to her friend, and to the intense gratification of her parents, Ruby actually finishes all her assigned work at school.  I am thinking of making her a chart, however, because it would soothe her inner little green monster, and I guess her homework and piano practice could use a little more diligence.

Carl has been begging, I mean begging for new toys lately, mostly expensive Lego sets (all Legos are pricey, but he wants the $30-100 ones, not the $5-$20 sets, of course, although he’ll happily accept those if you have any to offer).  At four and not quite a half, he completely does not understand the concepts of “spoiled,” “some things are worth waiting for,” “it’s possible to have too many toys,” or “money doesn’t grow on trees.”  To make matters worse, every once in a while the wheedling works or coincides with some bit of luck (quarterly Lego Brickmaster shipment arrives), and Carl gets a new toy, mostly from me.  So to him, it’s frustrating and random…he asks and asks, and I say “that looks cool, but no, not today,” or “put it on your birthday list,” or “you can save your money”….and his birthday never seems to get any closer and he says he never gets money, even though Ruby does…but then once in a while, jackpot! He gets a new toy!  So the lesson is that he should just keep it up and ask harder, right?

Yes, I am my own worst enemy in that drama, and yes, I have vowed to toughen up.  But I can glimpse his point of view, and I sympathize with wanting stuff.

Carl has had a chart before, to attempt to improve his performance at bedtime preparations, and it typically works on him for a day or two, but then the thrill of accumulating stickers or points wears off and it’s back to Charm and Nagging and Time Outs as Motivational Technique.  Hope springs eternal, however, so I am going to borrow a friend’s tokens-for-good-behavior system in the hope that it might help Carl to 1) grasp what are reasonable time intervals between new stuff acquisitions, 2) understand that bigger prizes require more time/money/good acts, and 3) possibly develop useful habits or internal motivation to continued better behavior.  Furthermore, we are going to start giving Carl an allowance, just to see if it helps and to create sibling parity, even though I don’t think he’s truly ready for one. 

So: how many poker chips equals a Lego dragon bank?  The Tie-Fighter?  The Crystal Sweeper?  And I wonder what Ruby would find motivating.   Any ideas?

Go ahead, I dare you

Google "termite swarm."  In images. 

Yeah...at my house.  Fun times, it was Sunday morning, watching them pop out of a crack behind some trim work.  And now send me your tea, sympathy and cash donations, because I'm sure this won't be a cheap, easy and permanently fixable problem.  I suppose, however, that living in one of the middle layers of meteorologic Hell, this sort of thing is common, to be expected, even.  I have scheduled multiple Bug Guys to come over and give opinions on just how chewed up and infested my house is.

In other news, the school gala is over.  I had responsibility for the check-in and check-out, and if I were my boss I'd be giving me a serious talking-to about all the problems I didn't avert, but no one else wants the job, so I got off easy.  There is a lot of after-the-fact accounting to be done, however, and not much time, because spring break looms.   Rod's parents came to babysit, which was a huge blessing and very kind of them and I hope not too horrible.  I got to say about 30 words to them in total, as I ran in and out the door.  Rod and I spent the night at a hotel around the corner from the gala, which would have been hugely fun, except there was that "gala" thing sapping the mood.

Today I went with Carl's class to the livestock show.  I got a little proof that everything evens out in the end:  last year, I escorted three sweet little girls around the zoo, a relatively easy assignment.  Today, I chased three little boys around a crowded petting zoo, carnival grounds, and farm exhibit.  Really, they behaved better than I feared they would, and it was still tough. It was hot and involved an inhumane amount of walking for little kids.  Plus, I am an idiot and forgot certain useful things: my lunch, water, and sunscreen among them. 

Otherwise, I am busy with a bunch of yucky stuff: 

• school drama (principal leaving, various programs and procedures parents want changed, PTO, meetings, meetings, blah blah blah),

• rental house drama (there is a prospective tenant but not a promising one, minor repairs winding down, showings continue),

• Carl's persistent begging for new Lego sets and missing toy drama ("but I NEED my spy pen, please mom, can you find it?"),

• Ruby's minor illness drama (not strep, not flu, maybe allergies, but why the fever?),

• taxes,

• spring break and summer planning,

• my continuing quest to de-junk and reorganize the place that I (and 2.6 billion termites) call home,

• and once again I am behind on basic life maintenance tasks: laundry, shopping, cooking.

So if you don't hear much from me this week, that's why.

Maps

There's a four-way tie for Most Aggravating in my life today:

1) Other People

2) Health insurance companies (no, let's say insurance companies in general)

3) Technology

4) My right eye that keeps leaking all over my face for no reason that I can figure out.

And now that I've gotten that out of my system, I am really here to share....

Carl's Map!  You should be very impressed because he had to pin-punch each continent out in the right color and to a certain degree of accuracy over many days and then glue them in the right places on his map.  Also, at his school this is generally a kindergarten project, and here he is in the three-year old pre-k class and doing it already.  Oooh, aaah.  Finally, he knows we live on North America, the orange one.

Ruby's Map!  This is another long and tedious multi-day project.  She had to draw and label it one region at a time.  She's sorry for the gap by Wyoming, and can't really account for what happened to New England and the Pacific northwest.  Who needs them, anyway?

And last in today's show and tell is the patch Ruby embroidered as a birthday present for her friend whose name starts with H.  It was going to be a bandana, but then she trimmed it a bit too small, so we converted it to a patch. 

 

Ruby Writes a Song

Ruby wrote a song a few weeks ago with her piano teacher, about dinosaurs.  And she wrote one at school for the music book her class is making as a silent auction donation.  I haven’t heard it yet.

And last weekend, she composed a new song.  At first, she said I could make up the tune for it, and then she chimed in and sang it herself.  Her singing voice surprised me; much more varied in tone and in tune than I was expecting. 

Here are the lyrics.  The tune gives it a lot more pathos and gravitas than you might think:

Meow Meow Surplus

Meow Meow Qote (“Cutie”)

Meow Meow Big Kite (“kitty”)

Meow Meow Outside sonds (“sounds”)

Meow Meow Love Meow

Okay, so maybe you had to hear it. Trust me, it was great.

Re: the kid who is killing the mood by pelting me with pompoms

I come from a non-demonstrative family, people with big bubbles of space around them most of the time, and my space bubble is among the biggest, although I wish it weren’t.  Sure, members of my tribe hug and kiss each other on requisite occasions, but not a lot.  When a friend hugs me, I tense up before I can stop myself sometimes (is she grossed out by my fat rolls?  am I doing it right?), and I feel just slightly awkward.  When I worked with people from lots of different cultures, it took me a long while to get used to all the hugging and cheek-kissing, to train myself to not back away from the ones who would lean in so close to chat at parties. 

I’m trying to raise my kids to be more affectionate, less weirded-out about touching people.  They’re still so young it’s hard to tell if it’s working; they may turn out as repressed as I am.  Carl is naturally a pretty hands-off kid—he doesn’t like to hold hands, won’t kiss me goodbye, only occasionally remembers to hug me hello.  Rod gets more hugs from Carl than I do, maybe because he’s gone all day. 

But first thing in the morning, not every day, but often enough, Carl comes and curls up in bed with me.   For a few minutes, my cuddly baby comes back.  Would someone please invent a magic potion so that I can keep him this way?   Or maybe one I can use to go back later and remember it just right: the chilly little feet against my leg, the boy smell of his hair, the way he wants my arm draped over him, how still he is compared to his daytime self, the silly things he wants to talk about?  

The Bossy Montessorian

The Scene:  This morning, the sun-splashed kitchen/family room.  Breakfast is over, we're in pajamas, Carl is messing with Legos and the kids' favorite new Sunday morning TV show is over (Zoo Challenge!).  I am slugly and tired from a late night helping with another school's auction, part of a reciprocal labor trading arrangement we the gala committee are testing out this year.

Ruby:  Mom, what should we do?

Me:  Hmm, I don't know.

Ruby: Maybe we should have a tea party outside?

Me:  Well... (thinking, there are worse ideas, but it's cold out, and that means there'd be dishes to do, plus I'd have to participate, and I'm tired and really, I have things I need to be doing....)

Ruby:  Yeah, come on!  I could write work plans for everyone! Please? 

Ruby last made us work plans on Wednesday afternoon; they're sort of like the work plan she has at school: a list of tasks to complete each week and be checked off by the teacher.  On Wednesday, my assigned work plan included petting the cat, building with Legos, and playing a very long list of board games.  I tried to get it amended to include the actually necessary tasks (talking with handyman, taking phone calls about rental house, making dinner, etc.) but Ruby said those were strictly on the side.  I don't think I got it all checked off.