In which Lisa's parenting skills are put to the test.

Kid#1 is in Grade Three. In Grade Three at this particular school, they have a biography project to do. Kid#1 picks a book about Albert Einstein. Over the past several weeks, the students have had to:

1. read the entire book
2. re-read chapter 1 and take notes
3. re-read chapter 2 and take notes
4. re-read chapter 3 and take notes
5. repeat, etc, etc, etc,

You get the idea. They have a long time to do this and each chapter in the book is fairly short. The notes are answers to questions that the teacher has provided in a booklet. So far, so good. Everything is pretty well-structured and there is a lot of time.

And then - CATASTROPHE! It's time to write the report!

To be honest, Kid#1 had the choice of about six different options, including writing a report, doing a presentation, making a skit, etc. Option #6  was, of course, "something else" whereby the student could come up with a creative idea not already listed, discuss it with the teacher, and move ahead with the approved plan.

So why did Kid#1 pick a report? I mean, of all the boringest of options.... but whatever -  he is 9 yrs old and he gets to pick.

Yesterday, on non-holiday Monday, Kid#1 is in a seriously foul mood when I pick him up after school. Later, I realize that this is probably because in class, they have had to pick their "presentation dates" for their biography projects. Kid#1, of course, doesn't share this until later when he off-handedly and eye-rollingly says that he picked the last possible date for his project because he doesn't even know if he'll be done by then... (I wish that the actual exaggerated fatigue and burden of the world inherent in the tone of his voice resonated better over the virtual print media...)

Over the past couple of weeks, Kid#1 has been typing out his report. He can't type. He can't even hunt and peck. He is about one word per minute. But he was trying. Really. Really. Hard. But, as you  might expect, he's gotten tired of this glacial pace and the energy has slowed. Hubby and I have collaborated - how do we assist in this process without actually doing all of the work for him? Kid#1 has an idea - he will dictate to me and I will type out what he says. Hubby scoffs at this, and says that's what the oldest kid does in the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books. I remind Hubby that we're dealing with real life here, and not some cartoon fiction. Hubby, surprisingly, does not appreciate me making this distinction clear for him.

Finally, on that non-holiday Monday, I propose to Kid#1 that he needs to write out a project outline, and then we will match his notes to the outline, I will type out his notes (because, in my mind, it's just the skill of typing that is missing - he's done all the other work) and then he can review and revise and format and all those other good things. 

Kid#1 GROANS and MOANS and DIES and COMPLAINS that this is way too much work. I explain very clearly what a project outline is (just a few words - not the whole idea) and why it's important and what it will be used for next and how it doesn't have to be neat and how his teacher will never see it, etc, etc, etc, etc.

An hour and a half later, after much crying and wailing and gnashing of teeth (him, not me -  mostly), the outline finally emerges. 

I wish to pat myself on my back for only isolating him to his room and for not losing it completely. It is times like this that put us to the test.

Now today, I'm going to force him to align his previously-written notes to the new outline. Wish us both luck.

I hate saying "no"

Had a parent email me at 6:30 this morning to ask me to help out with something at 8:30am that would have been really interesting and really worthwhile and really fun (in my geeky organizational development sort of way) but I had to say "no" because I found out too late and had other things to do and wasn't prepared and it would have gone on too long...

I hate saying "no" to opportunities.

So why is it so easy to say "no" to my kids when they ask for all that candy at the grocery store? Sheesh....

The single parenting shtick

I have a few friends who are single parents for various reasons. They laugh at me (yes, I know that you do) when I complain about having to do the single parenting shtick for a while. Last week, I was away for 4 days in luxury. Well, not quite real luxury, but without my kids so it felt that way. I was working long hours and had a lot of other things on the go, but it's not quite the same as having the kids around. Somehow, long hours and hard work are energizing without the kids. I only need my energy for me and I get to make more choices and there are fewer demands.

So I guess it's only fair that this week, hubby is away for a few days and so I am doing the single parenting. So far, touch wood - we seem to be doing ok. It's easier now that the kids are older. I used to get incredibly stressed out about my single parenting episodes. When the kids were in diapers, or not sleeping well at night, or unable to be left safely alone without constant surveillance, then it was seriously stressful. Now, with the boys at 9 and 7 yrs old, they can sit and eat without me if need be. They can get an apple from the fridge, wash it and eat it if they are screamingly hungry and can't wait the 15 minutes until dinner. They can sit and read and do their own homework. They can even (gasp!) operate the DVD player if they are really bored, though this morning when I suggested that they might wish to watch a movie while I was in the shower, they decided instead to leaf through old Lego magazines and play on the electronic keyboard... (which I think is quite amazing really and I'm totally proud of their choice to do that!)

I'm certainly not wonder-mom for doing this - there are many parents out there who successfully and patiently look after their kids day in and day out on their own. For me, this is a change of scenery, that's all - but it's a good one. Makes me appreciate the hubby a bit more.

You know it's a bad start to the day when...

** WARNING: This post contains no blood or vomit or other bodily fluids and does contain a lot of self-pity that any normal mother would roll her eyes at... 

So at 4:40am this morning, I get a little knock on the door from Kid#1 - he's been having nightmares and can't get back to sleep. Of COURSE he's having nightmares - Hubby and I were actually out on a date night for the first time in forevah and we had a sitter and the sitter put them to bed, which meant a break from routine, and Hubby and I were in bed late - so the conditions were ripe for a bad night's sleep for the Kiddle.

Hubby isn't budging so I go into the Kid's room and stay with him, fitfully dozing beside him on the single mattress, until 6:50am when I finally wake up enough to get to my shower and the usual stuff of the morning. Hubby sees me in the hallway and, all bright and bushy-tailed, asked how I was doing. I'm proud of myself that I didn't bite his head off for being such an enviable solid sleeper...

Kids were both veeerrrrryyyy sssslllloooooooooooowww to get up out of bed which meant breakfast was rush rush rush. Then, of COURSE, it's "bring your bike to school" because there's a bike lesson after school with the police department in honour of TV turn-off week (see how this works?) so Kid#2 wants to bike to school - which means finding the bike, and the helmet, and the lock... Kid#1, after saying that yes, he did want to bike, now says no, he won't bike (and I bet this will change again at the end of the day but too bad, so sad...) so I head to the garage with Kid#2 to find his bike (etc) and tell Kid#1 to meet us in front of the house for the walk to school.

So Kid#2 finds his bike, but then we can't find Kid#1. He has disappeared - somewhere. I yell into the house - he's not there. His backpack isn't inside, but I have to leave because Kid#2 has already taken off on his bike down the street towards the school... ARGH! At least Hubby is still home, so if Kid#1 is inside the house, he's not alone. And really, at 9 yrs old, if he was alone for 15 minutes, he'd be fine...

Off I run (and I'm not a runner) to school after Kid#2 and, you guessed it, Kid#1 is already there. RIOT ACT TIME!!! He says that oh, he left after us and followed us to school. So how, Einstein, did he get to school before us? Einstein might have had something to say about that - Kid#2 does not.

Oh - and then I forgot the bike lock because I was so busy looking for Kid#1... So after Kid#2 and I lean his bike against the fence, I RUN back home (did I mention I'm not a runner?) and get the lock, which I then successfully foist upon the departing Hubby so that he can take the lock to the school on his way to work in the car - and so I don't have to do anymore running...

Anyhow, I finally did get home and into my work of a busy day - and you know what snapped me out of my bad mood? This video right here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8TwRmX6zs4&feature=player_embedded

Enjoy!

** End of pity party. ;-)


PS> Any Canadian readers had better be voting today!!!