Q-isms: The Enterprising Adolescent

Q: My friend at school is going to buy one of my Skylanders for $4.00

Me: Uh. What? No. You cannot just sell your toys. Especially for $4.00. Those things are like $15.00. They're expensive. Is it one of the Skylanders you have two of?

Q: No. It’s not actually a Skylander.

Me: What do you mean? You just said it was.

Q: Well, it’s more of an idea.

Me: An idea? You’re selling someone an idea?

Q: Okay, well it’s more of a prototype….

Me: A prototype? What does that even mean Q?

Q: I have this mechanical pencil that I stuck some things on the end of it. I’m calling it a Skylander and this kid wants to buy it. For $4.00. It’s like free money.

Me: Q. You can’t do that. Seriously. You cannot start selling your school supplies to other kids, calling them *prototypes*. You’ll get in trouble.

Q: Mommy. What would you do if you found $20 on the ground? Would you pick it up? You sure would. That’s kind of like what I’m doing.

Me: Nooooooo, that’s not what you’re doing…

Q: But the kid is okay with it…

Me: I would venture to guess that his parents are not. Unless I have a signed document from his parents stating that this child can spend $4.00 on a mechanical pencil that you have disguised as a Skylander, you'll have to save this idea for The Shark Tank, my friend...

Can you even believe it? He’s selling ideas? To nine year olds? What is next?

I am in so much trouble.

I mean, I admire his enterprising spirit...but this kid sure keeps me on my toes. I'm going to have to check his back pack every morning before he leaves for school!!

Parenting - Actions Speak Louder

I learn so much from parenting.  

Sometimes, it's humbling.

Sometimes, it's downright embarrassing.

Since forever, Q has had a difficult time reading and writing.  He hates reading.  He hates writing.  And he has to work really hard at both.  Last year, we had the school do some testing, because I was really concerned that he has dyslexia.  Studying for spelling tests were a daily struggle and I felt like I was waaaaay out of my league.  I needed help in helping him.  The testing revealed that he was reading and writing at a grade level lower than he is in.  This spiked my anxiety.  Reading and writing at a grade level lower can be an indication of a learning disability.

Q is always so good at everything he does.  He's awesome at sports, he can do math in his head, he beats me at board and card games all the time.  Everything comes so easy for him.  I knew it must be so frustrating for him to have such a difficult time with spelling.

So I did everything I could do to help.  We studied those 20 words for hours every week.  Hours.  Like, I'm talking hours.  On average, we were spending 30 minutes to an hour every night practicing the words.  I would have him stare at the word, write the letters, say the letters - all in an attempt to help him succeed on the spelling test every Friday.  And then I would stress that it didn't matter what the mark was, as long as he did his best, I was super proud of him for doing his best.

We finally hit out breaking point.  

I called the principal.  

She reviewed his file.

She called his teacher, a learning specialist, and me into her office so we could discuss how best to help my child with his learning disability.

So you know when you take your kid to the doctor because he's super sick and the second the doctor walks into the room, your kid is fine.  Totally fine.  And you look like the paranoid, overprotected mother??

Ya.  

This meeting was kind of like that.  

It was Friday, so Q had a spelling test.  He got 26/30.  Twenty six out of thirty words that have* ie* and *ei* (and don't follow the rules).  Words like receive and believe.  And he got 26 of them right.

Pretty fricken awesome, right?

Then the learning specialist had him read...where he read perfectly at a grade 4 level.

He's in grade 4.

The LST says, "So where's the problem?"

The principal says, "Does he have a lot of pressure from home to do well?"

The teacher says, "I've brought his journal.  It's very well written."

I started to sweat.  

What was going on here???

"Yes, but we had to study an hour every night for him to get 26/30..."  As the words are coming out of my mouth, I'm trying to grab them and put them back.

The principal says, "Does he enjoy sitting and practicing for an hour every day?"

Uh, no.

The teacher says, "He should be practicing for no more than 20 minutes per night."

They all just stare at me.  

As I'm sitting there, it finally hit me.

I'm telling Q that it doesn't matter what he gets on his test as long as he tries his best, but my actions are telling Q that he needs to try harder, do better, and sit in that chair until he gets every single word right. Because as long as your best is perfect, we're all happy.  

I wanted to crawl under the table, slink my way to the door, and then run for my life.  

Suffice it to say, my son does not have a learning disability.  He has an insane mother with outrageous expectations.  We're going to practice spelling for 20 minutes a day.  We're going to read for 20 minutes a day.  We're going to celebrate (one of his spelling words, btw) no matter the results.  We're going to practice what we preach.  As long as we do our best, we're super proud of ourselves.

I'm also going to stop reading Harry Potter to him while he cries that he's soooooooooo bored and hates Harry Potter.  I'm going to stop telling him I'm doing this for his own good - to inspire his reading and if he would just listen, he would love it, and he would love reading, and he will feel passion for reading.

Like I do...

Oh...and one more thing....

Momma, you were right.

Q-isms: Smart A$$

Me:  Hey, Daddy is taking you to hockey tonight but do you want me to come and watch too?

Q:    I don't care

Me:  Oh....you don't care? Okay...so if I stay home and watch t.v., you're okay with it?

Q:   Well I want you to come, but if you have other stuff that's fine.

Me:  How about, "Mommy, I'd like for you to come"?

Q:    Okay

Me:  How's dinner?

Q:   Fine, I guess.

Me: Well, I guess you don't have to eat it and can go to bed without dinner...

Q:   No, I really like it. It's good.

But then...

(after a trip to Hawaii where he went snorkling every day with his dad)

Q:   Mommy, remember Dory from Finding Nemo?

Me:  Yep, I sure do...

Q:   Ya, I saw her!

Oh my goodness, what a conflict that must be going on inside that little 9 year old head of his. One day, moody and too cool and then the next, he's calling me mommy and thinks he's met a fish from a cartoon. It reminds me he's still my little boy, even though he swooshes his head to the right to get the hair out of his eyes, and says "I don't care" more than any one I know.

Parenting a Tween - Separation Anxiety (mine)

More on the ever evolving relationship between me and my son...

My Q just came home after spending a week in Hawaii with his dad, and dad's new gf.  I missed him like crazy.  It was the longest we've ever been apart.  Eight whole days.  

He says he didn't miss me (even though he's been sitting on the couch beside me every chance he gets).  And I kind of get it...I mean, he was snorkeling with turtles and Dory for a week.  I wouldn't miss me either.

It's also a natural progression in our relationship.  

Wouldn't there be a problem if he cried himself to sleep every night because he missed me?  

I imagined him coming home and us spending quality time together playing board games and watching movies and laughing over milk and cookies.

Instead, he asked if he could go play with the neighbor's kids.

I realized that this is how it's supposed to happen.  This is how it always happens, with every parent and every child ever in the history of parents and children.  Children grow up, and eventually they move away.  It would be unnatural if they didn't.  While I'm mourning the loss of my baby, he's feeling pretty okay with venturing out on his own a little more.  

My job now as his momma is to just be.  

I mean, he is only 9 so it would probably be pretty irresponsible of me to leave him home alone and have him make his own dinner.  

But...

I should be proud that there's a pretty huge chance he's not going to be living in my basement, with an extensive action figurine collection when he's an adult.  

It's my perspective that has to change on the situation.  

I think this is probably why God imagined a husband and a wife raising children together.  As the children grow, the parents' relationship with each other changes and evolves, and grows stronger.  Meanwhile, my relationship with my blog is growing...

Back to School 2013/2014

Where does the time go?

 

My baby, who it seems like just started crawling yesterday, is in grade 4.

 

Grade 4.

 

*Sigh*

 

Back to school is notoriously hard for us in the M household. 

 

The week before starts with major anxiety (Q's yes, but I'm not going to lie...me too...), tummy troubles, mood swings and tear.

 

Oh, the tears....they kill me.  They break my heart.  I want to say, "Okay, okay, you do not have to go to school.  Ever.  Who needs to read and write?"  And then common sense gets the better of me and I remember that even if I want to keep him home, it's kind of well, isolating and uhhhh, illegal. 

 

Sooooooo, we try to deal with it in other ways.

 

We do some cognitive therapy (who knew that depression in my early 20's would come in handy when parenting!!!).  As in:  What is the absolute worst thing that could happen?  Like the most outrageous, ridiculous, impossible thing that you can think of?  And then let's work our way back from there.  Forgetting your homework isn't such a big deal when you stat by being kidnapped by aliens.  And then we can kind of laugh about all the ridiculous scenarios.  Not to make light of the situation, but to acknowledge that by talking about things, you immediately take some of their *scary* away. 

 

We went to the school early on the first day so that we could walk around before too many people were there.  We became familiar with the surroundings again.  We found his class.  We came prepared. 

 

He was super moody the night before, and I was beyond frustrated.  I received some really good advise though, from some moms with 8 kids combined.  And so I tried it.  Even though I was irritated and angry, I said...

 

"Q.  I love you so much.  I always have and always will.  Nothing you do will ever, ever change that." 

 

Slowly, his mood changed. 

 

He said..."Mommy.  Can we talk about school before I go to sleep?"

 

And so we did.  We talked about his friends, the teachers through the years, his classmates, his favourite class, recess, lunch, everything.  We talked about everything.  For a long time.  I told him I was so proud of him and he was so brave for tackling this fear head on.

 

There were minimal tears.  A few the night before, but he did not burst into tears while standing in line.  He did not cling to me.  Even other parents commented on how well he did. 

 

I think I'm getting the hang of this parenting thing...although every time I think I've reached a comfort zone in parenting, everything changes and I realize I have no idea what I'm doing. 

 

Here's to Grade 4.  May it be the least stressful year yet!!

 

 

Well....there were no tears but I guess a smile was too much to ask!!!  Cool kids don't smile, and I'm pretty sure I was lucky the two of them stayed still long enough to take a memory :) 

I Have a Tween

(which is nowhere near as inspirational as "I have a Dream...")

 

I've always thought boys are waaaaaaaaaaay easier than girls to raise.  Boys are a little more difficult during the toddler years because they're so active and have so much energy, but once you find a way to channel that little something extra, you're golden.  Easy sailing for the next 15 years.  I've also been so blessed because Q has been such an easy kid.  I mean, I can count on one hand the number of out of control temper tantrums he's had.  He's always been very active - he started walking (and by walking, I mean running) at 9 months -  but by keeping him busy in soccer and hockey, parenting him has been a breeze.  He's polite, remembers his pleases and thank yous, does what he's asked (usually with me only having to ask twice...haha), and he has a very strong sense of right and wrong. 

 

This whole tween thing has knocked me over on my ass. 

 

At first I thought there was some sort of outside source that was influencing my sweet little angel.  Then I thought he needed a nap.  Or maybe he was just hungry.  I thought of blaming his dad.

 

But this nasty attitude is just not going away.

 

So, I googled the symptoms....

 

...and I found out I have a tween.

 

And that this is...

 

(pause for effect)

 

...normal.

 

*sob*

 

I feel sick to my stomach.  My heart actually physically hurts.  I do not recognize this mopey, insolent, miserable person living in my house.  I mean, don't get me wrong - sometimes, I see the kid that I know and love and we have some really great times.  But other times, he's a monster.  Last night, during a calm spell, I said to him..."Q, be the kind, funny kid that you are deep inside, the kid that everyone wants to be around.  Don't be the mean, grumpy kid."  To which he responded, "I know, but I just don't think twice.  It just comes out."

 

I get that he's starting to *find himself* and that can be a daunting task for anyone, let alone a 9 year old boy.  I get that the testosterone is starting to flow, and he doesn't know what to do with all that man-ness yet because he's...well...9.

 

Is there a solution?  Because I seriously don't think I can handle this attitude 24/7.

 

There bloody better be.  I think there is...

 

First of all, we had a visit recently with Nana and Grandpa.  Grandpa tried everything to cheer Q up and when nothing else worked, he put him to work.  After Q moved firewood for about 15 minutes, it was like he was a different kid.  He was talkative (no grunting), he was smiling (no perma-frown) and his eyes weren't rolling at everything I said.

 

Secondly, I am giving Q more responsibility around the house.  He wants to act like a moody teenager, well then I'm going to give him moody teenager chores.  Active chores like taking out the garbage and organizing the recycling...

 

Actually, I'm kind of at a loss for some more active manly chores...so if anyone has any ideas, throw them my way, please!!

 

Hand in hand with more responsibility comes more serious consequences.  I've explained to Q that he's the man of the family and men need to take care of their household.  There are no more time outs as punishment - there are privileges that get taken away, there are video games that disappear. 

 

We are going to be more structured.  We're going to have routines around here so Q knows what to expect and what is expected of him and for him. 

 

Of course, sports start up in the next few weeks and that will help his energy levels.  He's going to busy almost every day with some sporting event or another, and this will help channel that wayward testosterone.

 

To Re-Cap:

 

1.  Put him to work

2. Give him more responsibility

3. Give him more serious consequences

4. Create structure and routine

5. Lots and lots of organized sports

 

I'll keep you updated.  Hopefully, we'll both make it through this phase without going me mad myself.

 

Now if I could just figure out how to stay on top of him eating me out of house and home, because oh. my. goodness. the kid is hungry all. the. time.