An Aerial or 20: Hands Free and Loving It

Tweet

He is a self-taught gymnast, that's how my 8-year old son refers to himself. I didn't know what an aerial was until he starting talking about them constantly. When I discovered they were no-handed cartwheels, I thought no way.  But he kept working on the little mats we bought him for Christmas and studying instructional videos on Youtube…a dive cartwheel, a pop cartwheel, a one-handed…

But a real ariel seemed way too dangerous, and, despite his urgings, I had no idea how to spot him, a fast-moving target plunging his head toward the ground.
One day I took him to "open gym" at a kids' gymnstics place and got a rad idea while looking around. I suggested he try an aerial over the ball pit.  First, I moved all the white sponges to one side, on top of his section of balls. So he could land soft--er.
Was he game? He ran down the tumbletrack, pop-hopped and flipped. It was the first, most memorable aerial.
Since then he has been walking on air.

Whatever It Takes

Tweet

I've been in a funk this winter trying unsuccessfully to get back into the job market after being a SAHM for  way too many years. I'm older. My skills have been devalued in the marketplace. I don't want to dwell on it because it's too depressing. So I got into a domestic rut, and felt like every day was the same. Rouse the kids, feed them, corral them out the door, clean up, clean up, schedule, schedule, argue, argue, pick-up.  Then repeat.




So I stopped blogging because I didn't think I had much to share. I tend to think I shouldn't write unless everything is going well.  Mommy blogs are rosy, especially if they feature children. Well guess what, for every blogger who writes about the marvels of childhood, there's a mommy out there who can't wait until her amazing kids are out the door so she can be alone.

I"m glad to say I think this phase has passed and there are prospects on the horizon.  How did I survive the many unanswered resumes sent out into the void? I learned how to snowboard during the week, and I got pretty good at it.  It felt like a great accomplishment for a middle aged mom, and gave me a lift.

AND I stopped uploading resumes. From now on, it's strictly networking. 

Should you take belly dancing lessons? Learn to fix your bike? Buy a motorcycle? Well, I think the effects are better if it's something you put effort into.  Whatever speaks to you as a good challenge. If you need to wear a disguise to strain your orange juice, then so be it.

In a Perfect World, They Would Make Their Own Homework

Tweet
Design Your Own Homework, or DYOH, takes place twice a year in my kids' 3rd and 4th grade class. Students pick a how- to subject or research topic to investigate, make a poster, and give a presentation to the class.

It shouldn't take a private school to come up with this idea. How different is this assignment from what I saw during school open house week in the public schools? (I try stay opened minded and give the public school another look each year.) Every child there was making the same poster of a volcano, with the same drawings and same labels.  The walls were filled with them.
And I was filled with dread.

The Trading Floor is Open

Tweet

It was a birthday party for an 8 year old with a very unusual game.  My friend (the mom) bought a bunch of angry bird heads from Costco, put them in a pillowcase, and said each child could pick three to keep as favors.

She couldn't have known all that would happen next.  Some started complaining: They didn't like their birds and could they resubmit and try again?  Well, no, my friend said, but you are welcome to trade with others.

That mild statement set off a vigorous marketplace of trading, selling, deal making and breaking among the ten or so guests.

Kids who had never met and had avoided each other for most of the party were now approaching each other with offers.  Even the shy ones.  They followed what must have been some innate rules of commerce:  A "no" is a no, so move on and find another idea, for example.  No one grabbed, pinched or cried when they were turned down.  Instead the came up with ever more enticing offers.  Animated, excited, engaged, they kept it going for at least 45 minutes.

Soon it became clear that the blue "Splitter" bird was the coveted one.  Some offered 2 pigs for one Splitter. Sometimes the deal went through, other times not. I asked my daughter, one of the more animated traders, if she would rather have one blue bird instead of three different ones.  "Oh yeah," she nodded.  One time I had to stop her from waving her birds too close to the face of a potential buyer, but besides that, it was all very civilized.

Whether they pocketed 1 or 4, each went home with a uniquely-earned prize.

The Winter Garden

Tweet

This is a cucumber vine pulled out of our garden.  We cleaned up the old veggies and weeds to get ready for the frost. Now I'm supposed to describe what a wonderful family bonding experience it was, having all of us engaged in a communal activity.  But it wasn't like that, at first.  I announced a day in advance that I needed everyone's help to get this done because I didn't want to do it alone, nor did I want to pay expensive gardeners to help me.

The children often try to deflect family chores by pleading that they are too tired, hungry, in the middle of a game with their dad, doing homework, and the list goes on. So when the scheduled time arrived today I got a roomful of moans and refusals.  Oh I wish I could be the mom with the calm, therapist voice. But I lost it.  I called them names, namely "lazy privileged kids."  I'm being honest here.  They got angry at me and we had an exchange.  My protestations of their slacking may have gotten through (my husband came to my defense a bit).  The girls rallied (my son was at a play date) and joined me outside to pull out the old neglected overgrowth.

Finally smiles and excitement over worms, beetles and grubs.  Then, the big finale was to find this cucumber vine twisting up to the top of the lilac bushes….with 2 huge cucumbers on it!

Children With Knives...

Tweet  





Shouldn't run or threaten their sisters with them.
But overall I'd say early training can yield very tasty results.

Raw veggie hor d'oeuvres by Cian.

Hard Habit to Learn?

Tweet

My children have learned many routines in the course of their 8 to 11 year lives.  They bring their plates to the dishwasher (70% of the time); they brush their teeth at night (99%); they unload the dishwasher or sweep (90% with parental urging).

So that's why it defies understanding why they CANNOT learn to pick up wet towels from the floor after a shower.  Innocent, clean, ready-to-be-used again towels.  No amount of explanation or insistence works.  I've discussed the issue with several moms, and they are similarly perplexed.  Doesn't matter where the towels are ditched-- bathroom, hall, kitchen, porch.  They're gone, outta sight outta mind.

One time I left the towel on the floor to get all mildewy and smelly. Then I gave it to my daughter after a shower.  "Here's the towel you left on the floor yesterday." She didn't even notice. So much for hoping "natural consequences" would change behavior.

Maybe when something is dropped out of eyesight it is forgotten forever?  But don't they later walk right over the towel on their bedroom floor?  Fascinating.  Must be a universal of child development. (Will they finally get it when their college roommate gets really pissed?)

Here's some sweet and loving advice on this topic from a how-to website:  http://www.ehow.com/how_5710941_kids-pick-up-wet-towels.html

Honestly, I am so beyond "buy your child a towel with his favorite character on it," that I think a little electric shock or tazer might be worth a try.