It's a Mom Thing

I am not one of those mothers who overschedules her child's day.  I don't believe in that sort of thing, plus I don't want to be sitting at all these different places for hours at a time.  It's not fair to me.  But we have made an effort to involve Zane in a couple of activities.  One of those activities is soccer, of course.  (I may have been ostracized by the other soccer moms, but as long as Zane loves the sport and wants to play, I will cheerfully put up with it.) 

We've also started letting Zane participate in karate.  They offer the class at Zane's school as an after school program.  As soon as I knew they would be offering the class, I mentioned the idea to Zane's father.

"Heck no!  He's too young for that!"

Not the least bit deterred, I consulted an expert.  My nephew Tristan was in karate until middle school, when he gave it up to pursue soccer full time.  I texted him, and he actually texted me back, to say that karate would be great for Zane's balance and coordination.  Thinking of my own lifelong tendency toward imbalance and dyscoordination(Is that a word? If it's not, just pretend it is), I was sold.  Plus, karate teaches self-discipline and who doesn't need a little of that?  When the opportunity presented itself, I signed the boy up.  The first month was rough. 

"Zane did you go to karate today?"

"Yep."

"Well...did you like it?"

"Yeah, it was okay."

Great, I thought.  Kiss that cash goodbye. I had been so sure he would enjoy karate! 

And then Zane sat down with me last night and showed me the correct way to make a fist.  He demonstrated the procedure first, and then he took my hand and 'helped' me, moving my fingers and thumb just so. 

"Like this?" I held up my fist, just like he'd shown me.  Zane acted all impressed.

"Whoa!  When did YOU go to kindergarten?"

I didn't answer, because at that particular moment, I couldn't remember exactly when I went to kindergarten.   And I was a little choked up with pride, to see my boy able to 'teach' what he'd learned. 

It's a Mom thing.




5.) Talk about something your child learned this week.

Darn Children's Commercials

An insidious summertime commercial has appeared, among all the horrible ones designed to make kids want stuff they don't need, like a stuffed animal with pockets.  In this commercial, a boy gets out of the swimming pool and gently hits his head, as if he were getting water out of his ears.  Letters and numbers fall out instead, while the announcer warns that if you don't give large amounts of money to this tutoring company, your child's brain will leak knowledge or something.  This particular visual, of the child losing letters and numbers from his ears, bothered my son immensely.

"Why, mama?  Why are the letters coming out of that boy's head?"   Z even had a nightmare about this poor boy last night, and he started talking about it, worried about whether letters and numbers were going to leak out of HIS head.

Part of me was thinking very hard about my son's concerns, pondering how I might alleviate his anxiety.  Part of me was just looking at my child and thinking, huh.  I do this sort of thing all the time, with the freaking out about obscure and unlikely scenarios.  It was like my kid was in my head.  Is it time for me to face the fact that my kid may have inherited my anxiety issues, which I got from my mother, and she got from her mother, and so on, and so on?   Joy.  Maybe they should put something about this genetics thing in the parenting man--. Oh. Never mind.

So...I had to come up with something simple that would make sense to Zane and would also alleviate his anxiety. Before my morning coffee!  I also had to think fast, because the kid was staring at me, waiting.

"Uh...Zane, you won't leak any letters and numbers out of your ears because that is not where learning goes.  Learning goes up here(I tapped his forehead).  That silly boy did not put his learning in the right place, so it leaked right out of his ears!"  I made it all sound just so very ridiculous, the idea of storing letters and numbers in your ears, of all places.  

Zane thought about this.  I waited, eyes half closed in a wince.

It worked.  He's not scared of the commercial anymore, and he told his dad that he was putting his learning in the right place.  Then, while I had my coffee, I started worrying.  If my kid is actually a genius, and he takes any sort of neurology classes in the next couple of years, he'll be upset at me for not telling him the correct place that memories are stored in the brain.  But then he'll remember that I didn't let him think that his learning would just seep out of his ears, either.

I think that I am safe.

Handwriting is a Lost Art

This is Zane's first independent attempt to write his name.  I'm so excited!  Look at that letter formation.  You can clearly see a Z and a captial E.

And in the middle is a 4 and an 11. 

Still, it's a good first try.  I hope that it is not the last. 

I know that schools don't teach handwriting anymore, and that is just sad.  When you are forming a letter with a pencil or pen, the very act of moving the writing utensil in a specific way reinforces memory.  Probably there's even research that shows I'm not talking out of my backside.  I just find it odd that there is so much emphasis on standardized writing tests when nobody teaches handwriting. To me, they kind of go hand in hand, the ability to create a sentence in the brain and translate it into motor activity.   Nothing beats the pen and paper.

So write.

Don't give me that tripe about how some people just can't write, or they don't want to be embarrassed by what they write.  Who said anything about letting anyone see what you wrote?  Write a grocery list.  Nobody ever said that every word written has to be profound to anybody but the person doing the writing.   

Pick up the pen and write something.  Anything. 

When I get bored, for instance, I write down the names of the Presidents. (I can never remember that Millard Fillmore dude!)  Nothing earth-shattering there.  Sometimes I'll put the pen in my left hand and try to write the alphabet, and people in staff meetings look at me funny.  My hand gets a workout just the same. 

Just write.

I understand that there are people out there who cannot perform the motor activity of writing, and accommodations must be made for those people.  Those who can write, however, should write.  As often as possible. Even if you are only practicing your signature. That motor activity is important, I just know it.  If it goes away, who is to say that anything approximate will replace it?  What will those neural pathways become, if they aren't dedicated to handwriting?

It's probably those lazy neural pathways that lead to zombies!

The Things My Son Learns at Daycare

WARNING: this post may be viewed by some as offensive, due to the topic. If you are this type, don't read this post today. Also, don't read this during breakfast. Or lunch. Or afternoon snack. Pretty much any sort of eating. Actually, this post might make a great diet aid, since it might make you lose your appetite and not eat that giant piece of yummy cake that's sitting on the counter in the kitchen.

Zane and I are heading to the grocery store.

"We don't eat poop, Mama," Zane announces.

"Uh...okay. Good to know." What else was I supposed to say?

At first I thought that I would talk to his teacher, maybe get some context for that comment. Was this a playground conversation? If so, ick.

There's probably a perfectly logical explanation as to why my son would hear that sentence during his time at daycare. And polite society frowns upon poop eating, at least in this part of the world, so this little gem is definitely a good piece of knowledge to acquire. We don't eat poop*.

But a significant pillar of childhood involves exploration. Kids, even kids with special needs, have to be able to look with wonder at what is around their house, their yard, their community, and the world. They must experience the world with their five senses, including taste. Children learn their world during those first critical years by sailing into what is for them uncharted waters. Part of that exploration involves risk.

If you pick up that bug, it will sting you.

Eating that green apple may make you sick.

Poking your sister with a cattle prod will get you sent to bed with no dinner.

Many children have anxious parents(*raises hand*) who want to shield their kids from risk, if they can. This is understandable. Risks hurt sometimes. But risks can also reap some pretty badass rewards, too.

Riding a bike.

Writing an essay that wins a contest.

Hitting a home run.

Raising a hand in class and getting the correct answer.

Scoring a goal.

Parents want the good stuff for their kids, but there needs to be a balance--kids have to learn to problem solve so they can use those skills when they are not with adults. This may mean that your child experiences something that you may find undesirable or inappropriate or just plain weird.

That's when a parent may need to take a deep breath, and roll with it. After all, there will be lots of moments, when the child becomes and adult, when they will encounter people, places, or things that are undesirable, inappropriate, or just plain weird. Sometimes MY child might be the one who fits these descriptions.

It will be better for my son that he is not blindsided by these situations, that he is willing to take some risks and explore the world. It may kill me to watch him climb to the top of the playground equipment or get his heart broken by a girl, but I have to let him do this. I have to let him find his own way. I know all this, I believe all this, but...

I really hope that he didn't eat any poop at daycare, that he acquired the knowledge that "we don't eat poop" vicariously. I don't think this makes me a bad person.


*Unless you're talking about that extremely expensive coffee that is made from beans that have been eaten by a particular type of cat and then pooped out. Well, in that case, poop-eating is okay. For those people. Not for me.