Things fall apart
On Saturday, Monkey burst into our room bright and early to let us know that his tooth hadn’t yet fallen out—this being the one next to the one he lost last week, which was flopping all crooked and gross yet refusing to let go—and later we tromped off to the fields for a morning of soccer. Once again, it was gripping, cut-throat competition, with our team ultimately reigning triumphant. And by that I mean that the mom who brought snack had oranges AND Cheez-Its AND granola bars.
I think we won the game, too. I’m not sure. Monkey spent a lot of time acting surprised whenever he was called back into play. “I’m playing AGAIN?” he would ask, looking around as if to say, hey, I’m pulling up some important grass over here, you know, “ALREADY?”
When it was all over we piled back into the car and came home, only to discover that a house had landed on our resident witch.
Oh, wait. That’s not quite right. read more…
Before we have pancakes
Wow, I knew I was weird, but I had no idea that yesterday’s post would be so confusing to so many people. Sorry about that. I just tossed it up there as a little random thing (it was on my mind because we’d just done vocab quizzing before the kids left for school) and came back later to a nearly-unanimous chorus of “Huh??”s. Whoops!
[The point of The Puppy Test is that if the target word in your sentence can easily be replaced by any number of other—unrelated—words, that means it’s not a good sentence to show that you know what it means. We like puppies, so we use that as our test word, often, but all it means is that you should construct your sentence in such a way that ONLY the target word or one of its synonyms will make sense. That’s all. Sorry to have geeked out on y’all.] read more…
Handy vocabulary tip
Spelling and vocabulary tests are on Fridays. Thursday afternoons and Friday mornings we do quizzing to make sure everyone is ready.
Often the instructions are to “use the word in a sentence that demonstrates you know its meaning.” Both of my (gifted! ha!) children had trouble with this concept until we introduced The Puppy Test.
The Puppy Test is simple: Can you replace the target word with “puppy,” “dog-like” or some form of “barking?” If you can, you fail The Puppy Test and I do not believe you have demonstrated understanding.
To wit:
“I meandered” fails The Puppy Test. Maybe you barked. Maybe you exploded. Maybe you don’t really know what meandered means, mmmm?
“He went to the colony” fails The Puppy Test. Maybe he went to the puppy. Maybe he went to the store. Maybe you write very boring sentences.
“Stop being contentious” fails The Puppy Test. Maybe you’re telling someone to stop being dog-like. Maybe you’re telling them to stop being fuzzy. Maybe I should have this word tattooed on your forehead because the irony, oh, it slays me.
The last straw
(Hey, I’m so glad that no one else had an opinion on that last post. Heh. Y’all are pretty.)
This morning was one of those times when I actually had to choke back a sob when when the alarm went off, because it felt like I’d JUST gone to bed. This week has been overwhelming with too much work, too many places the kids need to go, too little time to sit and talk to my husband, too many late nights doing absolutely nothing you’d want to stay up late doing.
And the thing is, I think I’ve done pretty well, here. I’ve weathered a new marriage, new home, new town, new state, new school for the kids, new work, new church, new PTA, new friends, new responsibilities and even new local insects. And I don’t ask for much in return; it’s not like I want a medal or anything. I mean, maybe a cookie or something, but whatever. I HAVE HELD UP ADMIRABLY, is all I’m saying. read more…
Our job is to teach them to suck it up
There are many things which I believe it is my job to teach my children. I should teach them right from wrong. I should teach them to be kind to others. I should teach them how to get along in polite society and remember the Golden Rule and how to use their utensils properly and match their clothing and cook a decent meal and do their laundry without turning everything pink. It’s my job to teach them the things they need to know so that they can grow up and become productive, useful members of the society in which they live.
It is also my job to teach my children to take pride in the the areas where they excel, and to learn to cope with sub-standard or even (GASP!) failing performance in the areas in which they fall short. That also includes teaching them that they are likely NOT the best (and even in the areas in which they ARE the best, that may be a fleeting thing), and that that doesn’t entitle them to begrudge the folks who are.
It is ALL OF OUR JOBS to help our children reach their potential. Can we agree on that? I think we can. read more…
That last post title was a repeat
I am going senile. Not only did I use “Meanwhile, back at the ranch” as a post title once before, I used it only about a month ago. I never would’ve even realized this, except that I happened to notice that the permalink for yesterday’s post had a “2” at the end, and being the bright human that I am, I went, “Huh. I wonder why that is?”
Now I’m afraid to title anything, for fear that I’ve just plain run out of titles. Please look for my next book, coming soon (and by “soon” I mean “never”) to a bookstore near you. It will be called “Insert title here.” It’s riveting stuff, I tell you.
Anyway, despite my best efforts to forge a believable story arc out of three cups of coffee and some string, today is just going to be a One Of Those Days. I can tell. Nevertheless, I shall soldier on, making with the words and then maybe some more words, because I’m a giver. I care. Oh, wait. Maybe that’s I’m a talker and I talk. I always get those confused. read more…
Meanwhile, back at the ranch
The children seemed largely unbothered by Otto’s absence this weekend, but they were on him the second he walked in the door, yesterday, to fill him in on everything he’d missed. There was soccer! And Sonic! And some things they’d watched on TV! And look at this thing I built! And how loose my tooth is! And we tried to go swimming but it was COLD! Monkey hung from Otto’s middle while he chattered on, while Chickadee hung back, far too cool to climb on him, of course, but adding bits to the conversation with authority.
Also, Otto brought home free baseball hats for everyone. And that’s pretty darn exciting. (Yes. My children have long been fans of… Coker Tire. Also, chewing tobacco!)
Otto returned a few hours earlier than we’d expected him, and although (thankfully) my boyfriend had left and I’d let the kids out of their cages before he walked in, I hadn’t yet made it to the grocery store or actually done anything else remotely housekeepingish. Fortunately for me, several nights of sleeping in a budget hotel with another man predisposed Otto to be happy to be back even though I am a rather substandard wife. read more…
. . . and the agony of defeat
Well, I suppose we knew it couldn’t last. Despite a triumphant victory last week, Monkey’s soccer team didn’t fare quite so well this week. Today there was a lot of parents on the sidelines saying things like “Good try!” and “Spread out!” and “C’mon, guys, you can do it” and “Try kicking the ball!” (Okay, that last one might just have been me. I am very helpful.) But they had fun and drank Gatorade and only had to be reminded that they were there to play soccer and not swap Pokemon cards about fifteen times, so it’s all good.
By the time we returned home (after several hours at the fields in the blazing sun), everyone was hot and tired, so we decided a dip in the pool might be nice. And the pool—the same pool where the water felt like a hot bath for most of August—was FREEZING. The kids squealed and complained and refused to stay in, and I called them wimps and then went and put my feet in and immediately lost feeling in all of my toes.
So while the children raced AROUND the pool rather than swimming IN the pool, poor Monkey managed to step in some fire ants (adding insult to injury), and then I was tempted to curse this bizarre land with its awful bugs and its high temperatures but freezing water, but then I remembered that they also have Sonic here, so I took my poor abused children there for dinner and it was sort of okay. Cherry limeade really does cure a multitude of ills.
(P.S. I needed that sort of fortification to think about the issue of tween body grooming. And I wish I was kidding.)
All burnt out and nowhere to go
Lately, by the time I get to Friday, I’m lucky if I can still speak in complete sentences. I pack the kids off to school and return home to curl up with my laptop, and after a while I discover that I’ve been sipping my tea and staring at my wall for upwards of half an hour, and AMAZINGLY ENOUGH, my work is not doing itself. Go figure.
But after a week of school and work and activities and doctors’ appointments and paying bills and grocery shopping and whatever else it is that I end up doing between the hours of 6:00 am and midnight every damn day, by Friday I am just tapped out.
This is also usually the day that I pat myself on the back for having remembered to the do the laundry BEFORE the weekend. After I get done congratulating myself on my foresight, I then commence smacking myself in the face because it’s not the putting the laundry into the machine that takes time, but the putting away. And guess where all of that laundry is RIGHT NOW? If you guessed “half in the dryer and half in a basket next to the dryer” you win a fabulous prize. Well, no, you don’t. Wanna come over and help me pair socks, though? read more…
In case I drop dead shortly
There are things in this life I hope that my children will learn, but due to the various laws of parenting and physics, if/when I share these nuggets of wisdom with my cherished progeny, all they glean from it is “WAA WAA WAA WAA.”
While I hope to stick around on this mortal plane for a good long time, it is my one sincere and true hope that IF I happen to make an early exit, certain important lessons—those which just sounded like maternal nagging whilst I was still among the living—will finally seem worth learning through what I was able to leave behind.
Plus, if these children don’t start shaping up, I’ll be dead soon, anyway. That throbbing vein in my forehead can’t hold up forever. My guess is that I’m just three or four transgressions away from a stroke, so I’d better get this off my chest while I can still communicate clearly. (After this, I’m going to go practice tying my shoes. Just in case I survive the stroke but have trouble with my laces afterwards, it seems like a good idea to get in some extra practice.) read more…