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Mean Mom

Nov 12th, 2013 by

Simon is a kind, sensitive child whom I try to rear with kindness and sensitivity. Every once in a blue moon, I find myself at the end of my rope (usually due to things besides him) and say or do something unkind. Then I feel awful. This weekend, I was fine and Simon was fine, but I chose to get a little mean anyway and I don’t regret it.

This was meanness with a purpose: Simon learned to ride a bike this weekend! It’s something we should have gotten to ages ago, but our neighborhood is bad for bike riding (hills, no sidewalks, tons of street parking and alleys) and we’ve been busy building a runner, professional footballer, and the next Wimbledon champion. Amid all this running and ball playing, two things we really needed to knock out for safety and social development—swimming and bike riding—got left behind.

I’m confident we’ll get to swimming soon. Simon loved being in the pool this summer (the three times it was warm enough) and he was getting pretty close on his own. The bike was another story. He had little interest, but friends of his were learning and Matt and I realized that going into spring with training wheels was going to be a social liability.

He spent the night at the Whitworths’ this weekend, they have a perfect place to learn to ride (patio home community on one large circle), and so we decided that this was going to be the weekend it happened. Simon was excited but nervous.  He tried delay tactics: we ignored him. Once he learned to coast without pedals, the dimples were out and he was ready for pedals.

Then the bike got wobbly and he got scared. We ignored him. Then he got going with the pedals once or twice, but was unsure of the steering. We ignored him.* Then he pedaled and steered a ways, was briefly exhilarated, then sobbed because his bottom hurt. We called it a day.

Yesterday we were back. It was time to go around the entire circle. Simon didn’t want to, but I told him he had to anyway. This surprised him. Then I explained why:

“Simon, you know how we all laugh that you were almost two before you walked? Well, it won’t be funny if you are 12 before you ride a bike. Your friends can do this, and you need to do it, too. Get on.”

I think he understood me, but this was not the gentle, go-at-your-own-pace tone he expects from me. We ended up offering ice cream as a bribe, but even then it was a close call. He started off strong, then had some steering issues, and then complained about his bottom some more. The bike was too small for him, so I’m sure it was an uncomfortable ride. Still, I pressed. With about 10 yards before the finish line, Simon steered into a circle and fell over, then looked up at me and expected me to say something kind and reassuring. He got this instead:

“Get up and get back on! You’re not to the driveway yet.”

So there I was, meanly ignoring my child’s trauma and forcing him to bike—through tears!—to the finish line of the arbitrary course we set for him.

Once it was over he was proud of himself, and he sure loved the Graeter’s ice cream he got after dinner. This spring he’ll get a new bike and enjoy the social outings and relative independence a bike can bring. Having said that, I think it’s a lot more likely Simon will be playing midfield at World Cup 2026 than saddling up for the Tour de France. Also, while I don’t regret my firm line and borderline meanness, I do regret my lack of camera for the big event!

—

* While possibly accurate from Jessica’s point of view, this is not at all a complete picture of what happened.  When Simon got wobbly, I told him how to pedal out of the wobble.  When Simon had steering problems, I told him to look in the direction he was trying to go.  Simon implemented both of these strategies for a while and he improved when he did. [Matt]

Posted in First Steps, Jessica | 1 Comment »

Movin’ on Up

Nov 5th, 2013 by

Simon is making some serious progress in his various sports, a situation I find equal parts amusing, thrilling, and daunting.

For example, his PE class just timed children in a half-mile race. Simon tied one other boy for fastest at 3:50. That’s up from 4:26 earlier this year and places his speed just shy of the 95th percentile for boys his age according to one site I found. This means I can stop worrying that Simon will be too slow to play soccer with the big kids this spring.

And when I say big, I mean the Louisville Soccer Alliance U-9 division, which Simon will technically qualify for in the spring of 2015, but which he’s probably joining four months hence. We were new to this league in the fall, having made the switch from Highland Youth Recreation League, a lovely place we miss but that wasn’t offering quite enough competition for my super competitive child.

Does that sound mad? It kind of does to me, but his frustration at players who were scared of the ball, players who didn’t want to play, and players who didn’t understand how to pass was palpable last spring, so we reluctantly left what many derisively call “the kumbaya league” for some more serious action. Louisville Soccer Alliance lacks much of the charm of HYR, but the upsides are considerable. Every kid wanted to play, no child seemed afraid of the ball, the coaches ran great footwork and conditioning drills, and the games were much more competitive.

Actually, scratch that last bit. The games should have been much more competitive, except that Simon and his buddy Lincoln teamed up to demolish the competition in many of them. Let’s put it this way, in the last game of the season, Simon decided to not hold back in the final quarter and ended up outrunning everyone on the field and scoring 4 goals in 6 minutes.

It’s performances like that that led his coach, Mike, to suggest that he and Lincoln try out for the U-9s together this spring. They will be a little undersized, but they both have the speed, Simon has the footwork, and Lincoln has the power. I’d be reluctant to attempt this jump were it not for two compelling facts: The first is that a coach at Mockingbird Valley, an indoor soccer facility where Simon plays during the winter and where he had his birthday party this year, told me that Simon should play with their U-9s this winter. And the second is that Simon just got bumped up to a tennis clinic aimed at 9- and 10-year-olds.

His first lesson was Sunday. After several reassurances that there would be several kids Simon’s age at the clinic, the receptionist showed me the roster after I grew nervous at the sight of Simon surrounded by kids three to four inches taller than he is.

“We have a couple of 7 and 8 year olds,” she declared. “See, look, here’s a seven-year-old.”

“That’s Simon.”

“Oh. Well, here’s an 8-year-old.”

Uh. huh. There was one. The other 10 kids were 9 or 10. He looked tiny, and I had a nagging feeling we had let flattery get the better of us and lead us to a terrible, terrible mistake. But he seemed to hold his own, and we saw him smile and laugh through the viewing window. Any remaining nerves were quelled by his coach telling me that he did great after the session and Simon telling me that he won  a “The King of the Court” game. Yes, you read that right; he won it.

I’d be lying if I said that there wasn’t something exciting about seeing Simon succeed in his athletic endeavors. It’s especially gratifying when he out-plays some kid with a red-faced, screaming parent. It’s also highly amusing. How on earth did Matt and I create this child? Everyone tells me that the talent must be recessive and/or skip a generation, but I’m thinking a mutation must be the cause.

I’d also be lying if I didn’t admit to being daunted. How will I know when enough is enough? How will I know when I should push Simon and when I should give him a rest? The honest answer is that I won’t. Coaches talk to me about competitions (tennis) and traveling teams (soccer) as if they were foregone conclusions, but all these things take lots and lots of time and lots and lots of money. I don’t know how I feel about any of it.

What I do know is that until further notice Simon’s sportiness will preclude his attending The Russian School of Math or joining a chess team. There will be time for both later, and in the meantime Matt and I—non-athletes though we are—can see nothing but physical and social upsides to Simon’s participating in sports. By our reckoning, it will make his life easier in middle school, give him a very good reason to never smoke, and provide an outlet for stress when he’s in college* and in his career.

Of that, we are sure. We’re making up the rest as we go along.

*Unless, per his plans, he skips college to pursue his professional playing career. He doesn’t yet know that that option is not on the table, but I sure do.

 

 

Posted in First Grader, Jessica | 1 Comment »

Number One Super Guy

Nov 1st, 2013 by

Remember Hong Kong Phooey? You might not; he was only around for about 16 episodes in 1974-5. But he showed up in a Scooby Doo episode Simon saw a few months ago, which led him to some old videos on YouTube, and hilarity ensued.

And that’s how he chose a character last seen 31 years before he was born as a Halloween costume. I tried to talk him out of it at first. I was worried no one would have a clue who he was. Then I decided that home-made costumes were way more fun than store-bought ones and got into the spirit. My mom stiched the robe/top from a pattern I found, and I made the ears, mask, and ironed on the words “Hong Kong Phooey” on the back. No reason not to help jog some memories just a little.

The picture above shows Simon wearing the costume over soccer clothes. The final effect was a little better, but  you get the idea.

Last night, despite dire forecasts of thunderstorms, trick-or-treating commenced in little more than light rain. And the first person to see Simon yelled out “Hong Kong Phooey, that’s awesome!” He wasn’t alone. A large number of 30-60 somethings handing out candy at houses remembered Hong Kong Phooey or were quickly reminded once they saw the name on Simon’s back. “The Number One Super Guy” was a big hit, and Simon thoroughly enjoyed being the only one of his kind. He realized very quickly that the compliments weren’t as forthcoming on his Iron Man and Superman years.

So that’s why he’s already thinking ahead to next year. Right now the forerunner is Marvin the Martian, which could be very fun indeed. But who knows what else might tickle his fancy in the next eleven months or so. Mom, you’ve been warned!

Posted in First Grader, Jessica | 1 Comment »

Color Theory

Oct 26th, 2013 by

If online reading tutorials are teaching me a lot about the cultural expectations that feed into standardized tests and potentially trip up low-income and/or urban dwelling children, then pre-K books are teaching me a lot about how our color language can reinforce negative stereotypes about darker hues and put difficult (notice I did not write “dark”) thoughts into young minds.

I’ve spent the last two weeks working through a unit on colors at the preschool. Today, in a lesson I was scheduled to repeat with two more classes on Friday, I read My Many Colors to the two-year-old class. It’s a lesser known Dr. Seuss poem that illustrates each mood with an animal and a color.

You can soar like a blue bird, kick up your heels like a red horse, buzz around like a busy yellow bee, or be a cheerful orange circus clown. Cute, right? I mean, you can’t actually see the book, but you can probably imagine it. What I did not notice until reading the story Monday is that two of the story’s three negative colors potentially relate to people: purple was a sad cloud, brown was a low and depressed bear, and black was an angry and howling wolf.

I was halfway through the “low, low, low” brown page when I looked up at some of the brown faces in the room and felt an ocean of regret wash over me. Then I got to “angry, growling, howling” black and felt even worse. In fact, by black I was wondering if I could rewrite the story to have a beautiful, fast, and strong panther represent the color without the kids noticing that the words didn’t match the picture.

Kids are pretty smart, so I turned my attention to how I could fix the book for my next class. I wasn’t at a loss for black animal ideas, but finding art to match the book’s style was going to be tricky. By Thursday night, I decided that I either needed to let it go and read the book as is or find a new book. It didn’t take long to decide: How could I look at the sweet brown faces in my classes—faces that range from cafe au lait to ebony—and read a story where brown and black colors are bad?

Thankfully, Eric Carl’s Brown Bear Brown Bear was sitting on my shelf, and in that book all colors are equal. Problem mostly solved, but I’m still inwardly cringing over Monday. I’m also still surprised by it. Why make a happy horse red, a color that horses don’t come in, in when you could make the horse brown or black, which are two colors they do come in? Why not save angry red for fire ants? This problem could have been—and with the right editor should have been—a very easy one to avoid.

Posted in Jessica, KIP (Preschool) | 1 Comment »

Car Shopping in the Era of Social Media

Oct 21st, 2013 by

Or: How to Buy a Car in 10 Easy Steps

Step One: Research Edmunds and Consumer Reports for the make, model, and year car you can afford.

Step Two: Go test drive three vehicles that match your research results.

Step Three: Pick car. Research fair price.

Step Four: Have brother look over vehicle. Negotiate price.

Step Five: Return to dealer after price has been agreed upon, find previously undisclosed and large hidden fee, blow a gasket in public, and call the dealer a cheat and a liar. Make big, ugly scene that you (Matt) will be ashamed of, but that your wife (me) will think is awesome and well deserved.

Step Six: Spend 10-12+ hours researching cars other than the make, model, and year you had previously decided upon. Create elaborate spreadsheet with car details, including previous history, Consumer Reports estimated future reliability, and the Kelley Blue Book trade-in, private sale, and dealer recommended prices. Establish target fair price for each vehicle.

Step Seven: Rant and rave on Facebook about the awful place that tried to swindle you and ask for referrals to honest dealers.

Step Eight: Have old acquaintance (literally someone I’ve known as long as I’ve had a memory and the person who drew up mine and Matt’s wills after Simon was born) drop you a note saying she has a practically new car to sell at a price that is within range and more than fair.

Step Nine: Decide that agreeing to buy a car sight unseen from this person presents less risk than purchasing a certified, pre-owned vehicle from a local dealer.

Step Ten (In Progress): Figure out how to get car to Louisville from Washington, DC.

I’m not sure if these results are reproducible, but it’s sure working out well for us! All hail social media!

Posted in Jessica | 1 Comment »

Seven

Oct 16th, 2013 by

“Give me a child until he is seven, and I will give you the man.” (Jesuit saying)

Dear Simon,

It’s your seventh birthday today, and I’m overwhelmed with two contradictory feelings. The first is that I can hardly believe it’s been seven years since you entered my life. The second is that I can hardly believe you are only seven when I feel like I already know who you will be at ten, eighteen, or even thirty.

There has been a constancy to your personality since infancy, but last year witnessed some significant developments, and this year you gelled into what often seems like a finished product. You are in many respects the oldest seven-year-old I have ever met. Sometimes it’s easy to forget you are a child at all: Thankfully, your innocence and sweetness are always there to remind me.

Notably, this is the first year that I would not use “sensitive” as the first word to describe you. You’re not insensitive, it’s just that what appeared to be a general disposition has been fine tuned into more specific characteristics. Today I’d describe you as a perfectionistic, competitive, and kind introvert.  You don’t like masses of people all yelling over each other at once. You don’t enjoy being in large crowds. You worry about your friends and their feelings. You don’t want anyone to do anything bad or get into trouble. You have a hard time coping with losing. And you cut yourself zero slack if you make a mistake.

Continue Reading »

Posted in Birthday Letter, First Grader | 2 Comments »

Geo Whiz

Oct 11th, 2013 by

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a student possessed of an American education is in want of any knowledge of geography. Americans, as study after study informs us, are embarrassingly awful at geography. Can’t find Iraq on a map embarrassing. Thinks New Mexico is part of Mexico embarrassing.

Matt and I feel confident we can fix that. All every house and school in the United States has to do is purchase a series of games. They are: Ten Days in Europe, Ten Days in Asia, Ten Days in Africa, and Ten Days in the Americas. All are available at a reasonable price from Out of the Box Publishing. These are all games where the goal is to connect 10 countries in a row. They may touch, or you can get from one to the other via a color coded plane (the plane and the countries it connects must all be the same color), an ocean (both countries much touch the same ocean),  a train (Asia), or a safari vehicle (Africa). In each turn, players may draw from a stack of cards, draw from a discard stack, or swap two cards in their rack. The first person to string together all 10 slots wins.

We started in Europe. Then my mom got him the Asia game. When he wanted to take it home, she bought the Africa version to keep at her house. They are without a doubt his favorite games, and he’s learned a mind-blowing amount from them. Just yesterday in the car, we had this conversation.

“Wow, Mama, Asia sure has a lot of big countries in it. Like India and China with 1.1 billion and 1.3 billion people in them.”

“You’re right. Asia is the biggest continent and has the most people in it.”

“But some countries in Asia don’t crack a million. Like Bhutan. Or Cyprus. Hmm  . . .  I wonder if any other countries in Asia don’t have a million people in them?”

“Maybe East Timor?” [It’s tiny and new–that was a good guess, right?]

“No, East Timor has like 1 to 2 million I think.” [Yup, just over 1 million. How the heck did he know that?]

And so it goes. Then on the way home from school today he began free associating about his upcoming (7th!) birthday.

“I sure hope I like what I get for my birthday.”

“I told everyone you wanted Barbie Legos, isn’t that right?”

“Nooooooooooo. I really want golf clubs. And a clear sheet of paper that you draw a map of Asia on. Then I can write in all the countries and their cities. And some of their populations. I’ll write everything. Oh yeah, I would love that!”

I knew he would. I was not sure if he could. Then curiosity got the better of me. I found a blank map of Asia online, printed it out, and handed it to Simon. That’s when this happened:

Some of the countries were too small to fit writing into. So I numbered them and waited to see how much he could do. That’s when this happened:

I helped him when he wanted it on his spelling. There’s no way at almost seven he could spell “Kyrgyzstan” without help. I did not help where he didn’t want it, thus “Omon” and “Gorjia”.  But I never once told him what country fit into a space or even offered a clue. He just knew! It’s not such a big deal to know India, China, or Japan. But sorting out Cambodia, Myanmar, Laos, Thailand, Vietnam, and Malaysia is a bigger deal. Getting upset because Bahrain isn’t on the map is a bigger deal still. And not mixing up any of the “stans” as I like to call them is better than I can do and I’m good at geography!

So listen up American educators. Get these games, play them in class, and reverse the American geography curse. Next up, with Simon’s help, I’m going to finally sort out all those tiny West African nations and figure out once and for all which is Guinea, which is Guinea Bissau, and which is Equatorial Guinea. I can do this! And if I can’t, well, at least my first-grader can.

Posted in First Grader, Jessica, Simon says... | No Comments »

Toothless!

Oct 9th, 2013 by

When we weren’t shopping for a car, clearing out our old car, or talking to insurance agents this past week, we were busy watching Simon twist, flick, and pull at his two loose teeth.

One came out on his way to a friend’s skating party Monday afternoon. The second fell out on the third bite into an apple yesterday at dinner time. Pictured above is Simon at bedtime, enjoying a retelling of Robin Hood and sporting a brand new smile.

Posted in First Grader, Jessica | No Comments »

(Lack of) Perspective

Oct 6th, 2013 by

Or Jessica and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. That would be Thursday, the day of Brandeis Elementary’s PTA Walk-a-Thon fundraiser.

I was in charge of coordinating volunteers and figured from the start it would be a long day. It was made a longer day owing to Matt’s being out of town and my needing to call the plumber and vet before I left home. I was sufficiently busy that at 8:30, I grabbed my tea and a Cliff Bar and headed out of the house.  I knew I didn’t have any lunch to take with me; I would soon realize I had left my cell behind on its charger as well.

Seven hours later, I was a little hoarse and sunburned and a lot tired and hungry. When Simon wanted to stay after school and play, I almost said no. But it was the beginning of fall break and Matt was out of town, so why not let him have a bit of fun?

I called time at 4:45, eager for nothing more than to get home, get fed, and get on the couch. About fifteen minutes later, I would discover that staying late and taking Broadway home was a very bad idea, because at around 5:00 p.m. I saw or heard or felt—I’m not sure which—a flash out of the corner of my eye as a silver SUV came speeding into my lane, crashed into me, pushed me into a car in the lane to my right, and then sped away and managed to turn right on 8th St. before anyone could get the plate number.

My Corolla had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, too.

Here were my immediate thoughts, in order:

“Oh my God, I’ve been hit.”

“Is Simon OK?”

“There goes getting dinner and sitting down anytime soon.”

“I don’t want to have to buy a new car.”

These thoughts soon got pushed out of my head by a flurry of post-accident activity. There were police reports to be given, witness reports to overhear, lots of information to exchange with witnesses and the driver of the car I was pushed into, and then the biggest one of all: figuring out how I was going to get home with no car, no cell, and with Matt out of town.

As beginnings to vacations go, standing at the corner of Broadway and 8th while using a borrowed phone to call any number I could remember to get a ride home ranks low in terms of auspiciousness.

Thankfully, I got lucky on the fourth call when my brother Steve picked up. And he certainly got an unexpected answer to the ole’ “Hey, what’s up?” greeting. “Oh, you know, not much. Just hanging with Simon at 8th and Broadway and staring at my totaled car. Can you come pick us up and drive us home?”

Now here’s where perspective comes in. We were lucky to not be seriously hurt. Simon was scared and his chest hurt at first, but within 30 minutes all was well physically and emotionally with him. My neck and shoulders hurt, but I’m optimistic that some PT can get me back to what’s normal for me.

We were lucky that no one else was hurt. I know people who, through no fault of their own, have been in vehicles that injured or even killed another person. Their guilt is crushing, and they suffer from depression and anxiety. I’m grateful that the woman in the third car suffered no injury herself and that her car sustained only minor damage.

We were lucky to have witnesses.  A woman driving behind me immediately stopped her car, checked in on me, called the police, and gave a police report. A second witness, this one a pedestrian, also stuck around for the hour or so it took for the police to arrive and take all the necessary statements.

That’s a lot of luck. It should bring about a fair bit of perspective.

But what about the bad luck? I drove a totally reliable 2000 Toyota Corolla. Its blue book value is very small, as will be my reimbursement. But I can’t replace it for blue book value. Nope. I’m going to be out at least $10-$12K shopping for a new car.

And the guy that hit me? The one who fled the scene because he was uninsured, under the influence, in possession of drugs in his vehicle, or evading an arrest warrant. Does he get a (literal) get out of jail free card on this one? Where’s the justice for him?

Honestly, I’m struggling to stay focused on the bright side. Which isn’t to say that I’m wallowing in misfortune, just that I’m more focused on moving past the unpleasantness than being grateful events were merely miserable and not tragic.

As for the driver, I will revert to the Yiddish, a handy language when a curse is in order. Google it. And stay clear of Broadway if you can avoid it.

“Ale tseyn zoln dir aroysfaln, nor eyner zol dir blaybn af tsonveytik.”

 

 

Posted in Jessica | 1 Comment »

The No-Presents Birthday Party

Sep 30th, 2013 by

Ideally, a no-presents class birthday party comes after several careful conversations with one’s child in which you discuss the reasons for it, acknowledge possible disappointment, and otherwise ease your child into forgoing what for many is the most exciting part of a class party.

Another option is to spring it on the kid once it’s too late to walk the decision back and with no discussion at all. Which is what I did today. Having considered the various options at hand for Simon’s upcoming party, I ultimately decided to save everyone the time they do not have and the money that might well be tight and just put “please no presents” on the invite.

Potentially unfortunately, I did not bother to explain this to Simon after I had already printed the invitations and put them in his teacher’s mailbox to go home with her class. He found out the same way his friends will—by reading it in print. The crazy part of this is that I wasn’t even worried about the fall-out. By this point in time I know my kid pretty well and, more importantly, he knows himself very well, too. Here’s how the discussion went down:

Me: “I brought your birthday invitations to school earlier today. Want to see them?”

Simon: “Oh yeah.”

Me: I take an extra from its envelope and hand it to him. “Go ahead. Read it.”

S: Reads, gets to “no presents please” and looks up at me.

Me: “Yeah. I forgot to tell you about that. We just want your friends to come and have fun. You don’t need them to bring presents.”

S: “Do I still get some presents at my family party?”

Me: “Of course. But there’s no point in getting them from school friends, too.”

S: “You mean because they all get Lego and stuff and I just want a sand wedge, iron, and golf bag?”

Me. “Yeah, because of that. How would they know?”

S: “You’re right. I sure hope someone in my family gets me a driver and sand wedge so I can go out and hit some balls.”

At this point, the conversation moved on to the basketball court being poured this week, the soccer he’d be playing after dinner, and the golf he hopes to take up soon. The needle on the trauma-meter barely budged. Still, if your kids are at all normal (i.e. toy liking) I cannot honestly recommend my approach!

 

Posted in First Grader, Jessica, Simon says... | No Comments »

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