Owen's Definitive Guide to Cursing: Part 2

About a week after our last chat about "bad" words, Owen asks me in the car:

"Mom, is a$$ a bad word?"
"Yes." I mean, I don't even like to type it. ;)
"I don't think it is." Of course you don't. Why believe anything I say? Why even ask me? What do I know?
"Well, some people think it is. Either way, it's not a word our family is in the habit of using." Define habit...
"I still don't think it's bad." A little Owen-sensor finally dings in my brain; it tells me we are not on the same page.
"What do you think it means, O?"
"I don't know exactly."
"Use it in a sentence." At this point, he's kind of fired up from me disagreeing with him, so in a raised voice he says from the backseat,
"THE SMOKE FROM VOLCANOES MAKES A LOT OF A$$."

Remind me to make an appointment with the school's speech pathologist.

Awww, Shrimp!

Owen's Definitive Guide to Cursing

We have our friends Bert and Rae to thank for so many things in our lives...a deep and abiding friendship, a place to stay whenever we come to LA, Owen's love for all things Star Wars, and, most recently, a revelatory conversation of every curse word Owen knows.

Bert is a big movie buff, and the guest room where Owen slept over Thanksgiving led to many questions about the Indiana Jones, Star Wars, and Back to the Future memorabilia hanging on the walls and on the shelves. The tale of Marty McFly going back in time most captured his attention, and he wanted to know if he could watch it on Netflix.

"When you're older."
"Why? Is it inappropriate?"
"Yes."
"Does it have bad words?"
"Yes." (You see how I keep it simple. No need to elaborate on all of the other reasons he can't watch it...stereotypes of Libyans, explanations of "who is Calvin Klein?", the character Biff as a whole, etc.)
"Perhaps, Mom, I DO know a lot of bad words." Yes, Owen uses the word "perhaps" whenever he is trying to make his point. Read: he uses the word perhaps more than any one else I know.

Long pause..."Lay it on me. What words do you know?"
No pause. "The H-word, S-word, B-word, and a few SH-words."
I refrained from exhaling any of those words from under my breath. Another deep breath.
"Oh, really?" I pretend I know none of those words. "What does that mean..."the H-word"?

He whispers..."Hate."


My shoulders relax from the anxiety, I hold in a chuckle, and I ask him to go on.
"Also, Stupid, butt, and shut up."
I concur that none of these words build people up, and we enjoy a comfortable silence.

"Oh, and Mom...you know I don't say these words, but there is another one that is very mean...you know, "SHRIMP". You should never call someone a shrimp."

Now, I laugh.

Character Building

Owen's school skirts the dressing up for Halloween issue by having a "Storybook Character Day". Moms across the neighborhood groan because the Halloween costume most of the kids are wearing is NOT literacy related. So, we end up with two costumes. The girls have a ton of dress up clothes (Angelina Ballerina and Pinkalicious were the most popular, Owen said), but the dudes? From where does the second costume come?

Even though Owen had a Star Wars costume planned (and plenty of Star Wars literature to carry around school), he wanted to dress up like one of the guys from his current favorite book "The Official Guide to Lego Ninjago". Yes, I realize that this is a lame attempt at a "book", but give a 6 year old guy free reign at the school "book" fair, and you get what you get. I said fine, as long as he picked a hero.

You see, if you're going to emulate someone ALL day, I'd rather it not be Lord Garmedon, whose hobbies are "planning escape and revenge against Sensui Wu; lying and deceiving." (source: The Official Guide to Lego Ninjago). We need the villains as non-examples, but I don't need my son to be mimicking every evil move in an effort to stay in character all day. I steered him towards the heroes section and asked him to find a character who had traits he admired or would want to see in himself. He finally picked Kai, the red ninja. What character traits did he admire? "Mom, look at his hobbies: Music & breakdancing." Close enough...and they do have similar angry eyebrows.


As Owen sat at the kitchen table trying to brainstorm how to match the costume with what we have at the house (read: my mom is too cheap to buy a second costume), I read on about Ninja Kai...and immediately started laughing.

"Brave, reckless, daring, stubborn, inspiring, infuriating - all of these describe Kai, the Ninja of Fire. Of all my ninja, he was the most difficult to train...not because he lacked the skill, but because he lacked patience and was reluctant to listen to anyone else. Still, I saw potential in him." (again, "The Official Guide...")

If you know O, you are shaking your head slowly in agreement. If you don't know O, you do now. Psychologists theorize that core personality traits are developed before the age of 6. From this point on, I know that I am parenting the Ninja of Fire.

"Kai" with his Grammy (as the Cat in the Hat)

For those of you wondering how you can recreate this outfit at home:

• black skeleton Halloween pj pants on inside out
• red school shirt, also on inside out (a plain red t-shirt would be too classy)
• Mom's black knee-high tied around your waist
• put on another red shirt, then take it off, but not all the way. Stop it at your big melon. Then drape it around your neck like a lady and have your mom safety pin it.
• Finally, get your mom's big hair-tie thingy...you know the one like the soccer girls wear and put it on like Rambo. I know you don't feel like Rambo...if you were any older than 6, you might realize that you actually look like a cross-dressing sleepwalker, but since you are 6, you happily march off to school as a ninja in a homemade costume.
• Cost: $0 now, hundreds in therapy later.
  

Back to Work

A lot* of people have asked how my new job is going. *By “a lot” read: an elder's wife, a neighbor, and my boss. After 3 months, I wanted to document where I am at with the whole "back to work" thing.

I’m a teacher with no “classroom”…but my life is still run by bells. Nothing hearkens one back to the sounds of industrialism's golden age like a bell set to ring at 2:03 pm every day. That’s the start of 7th period.

Gone are my 75 to 160 students; here are my 40 teachers. I’m not an administrator or evaluator; I am a support teacher. I am to Tim Gunn as the principals for whom I work are to Nina, Michael, and Heidi. I’ll leave it to them to figure out which one of them is Heidi. As for the teachers (contestants)? Well, it is one wild season. Does my Project Runway analogy reveal too much into my Thursday evenings for you? :P I have to cope with the stress somehow.

My unofficial job description is to support teacher growth in classroom management, lesson planning, instruction, and assessment. No day is the same, but in the course of a week, you could find me:

Co-writing lesson plans
Cutting out and laminating manipulatives
Compiling assessment data
Modeling a lesson
Emailing documents between two campuses (I split my time between 2 high schools)
Facilitating a team meeting
Daydreaming about the next weekend or vacation day with my family
Collaborating with the support teachers from other subjects
Researching end-of-course exams from other states
Doing any random task a teacher or administrator asks...and there have been some doozies
Listening…a lot of listening.

I’m still working on that part: the listening. If you marry your opposite, consider that my husband is a therapist. He listens all day long. I talk all day long. The discipline of listening to a teacher or team of teachers flesh out a problem, discuss a grievance, share a hardship, or elaborate on a plan has been good for me. I am so blessed to hear what our AMAZING teachers need to say and want to share. I’m working on being someone who knows more of what she says than saying what she knows. Toughest part of the job, by far.

Make no mistake, this job is a gift, but I would be remiss not to tell you that it is a gift that comes in a big box with 1,000 pieces and no instructions. And on most days, I am happily working with my eyebrows furrowed and chewing the inside of my lip as I tackle today’s unexpected opportunity.

Now, back to work.

PS: a post with no pictures and little mention of my children is a rarity. Don't worry, Grandmom, I'll return to our regularly scheduled programming soon with Halloween photos. :)

Trouble Sleeping??

So, Mommy is at Back to School Night and can't tuck you in? This change in routine might be upsetting to some and impede their bedtime routine. What to do? I don't know.

But here's what NOT to do:

#1 Don't sleep on your comfy bed. Make a pallet for yourself on the floor.
#2 Don't bother with comfy clothes. Add an itchy, polyester tutu from your bottom drawer. Pull that over your monkey pajamas. Don't look at the monkeys...they'll give you nightmares.
#3 Don't invest in a sleep mask. A pair of sunglasses works just fine. Hint: wear them upside down so they pinch your nose. Might help with the sleep apnea or snoring...pending FDA approval.
#4 Don't cuddle with any of your soft lovies. Choose a naked plastic baby and cuddle her feet first. (Maybe her baby doll is a breech baby too?)
#5 Don't sleep on your regular pillow. Drag a boppy out of your closet to get your neck creaked just enough to let visions of chiropractic care dance in your head.
#6 Don't worry about a bedtime snack. Play Russian roulette with an old sippy cup. Could be water, could be homemade yogurt.
#7 Don't worry about bedhead. Did you look in the mirror before you laid down? Already there.
#8 Don't bother covering yourself up with a blanket. Leave it to catch the pee that would have otherwise been caught by the pullup you took off and left on the other side of the baby gate.
#9 Don't skip nighttime prayers. You've obviously stolen your brother's race car and Buzz Lightyear. Repentance is like a glass of warm milk.

Yet, she's asleep. Maybe she's onto something after all.

Whatever your bedtime routine may be, I say, "Sleep tight! Don't let the bedbugs bite."

1st Grade Boy (plus one Wannabe)

1st Grade, here he comes!
Yes, that's a B-Boy shirt he's sportin'. Thanks to "The Electric Company" and "So You Think You Can Dance," Owen spends a lot of time beat boxing, rhyming, and working on his dance moves. It's a hilarious stage...if it's a stage.

June wanted to wear her skeleton shirt for her first day. That's the beauty of being 2: you can.


And for those of you wondering, Michael is still not a morning person.

As for my first day back, I forgot to take a self portrait. Stalkers can hunt me down on some high school's website. :P

Here's to a great year of loving and learning!

Excuse me while I lie to myself...

You should be aware that the pictures in this post are not designed to show our full experience with swim lessons. They are designed to ensure that I enroll my kids NEXT summer because my brain will remember these photos...not the actual events that transpired before and after leaving the pool. Also, it was difficult to take pictures while motivating people to put on their suit, get in the car, drying tears, processing fears, discussing why we learn to swim, and handling the pent up post lesson emotions. So much for the lazy days of summer. :)


That being said, once O got in the pool, he was his typical "school persona". When at school, he listens very well, focuses on the task at hand, and aims to please. The coaches at the YMCA were AWESOME, and I would recommend swim lessons there for any beginning swimmer. The lessons themselves were never the issue; it was the emotions that came with them and how to handle those emotions.

O and Coach M. She was patient and calm and she followed up on an off the cuff promise she made to Owen. Two thumbs up!

After two weeks of lessons, Owen looked at me and said, "I thought you said I would be able to swim after two weeks." Hmmmm...am I a liar? What I should have said was, "I didn't realize that you would be carried into the swimming facility, literally, kicking and screaming. I'm sure the stress of such an experience might have limited your ability to acquire the skills necessary to swim or distracted you from absorbing the full intent of the lessons." So, we went back for two more weeks, wanting to end on a high note. Or, I'm a glutton for punishment.

Praise God (literally, for we prayed for a better behind the scenes experience), weeks 3 and 4 were better. Coach C was a gift! I kept wanting to ask him what he was studying in college because he is a natural teacher. The kids connected with him, and he navigated that tricky balance between motivating the kids out of their "safe" spot and pushing them too far where they were too anxious to try new things. Owen did much better these weeks. I guess I forgot what a creature of habit he is, and he finally adapted to the "swim routine". Sweet mercies!



June, on the other hand, LOVED the experience. So much, in fact, that she did spend most lessons in the YMCA child care center. She tried to take her clothes off and get in with Owen every time, so maybe one of my kids will be a swimmer after all. It was a bit distracting for all parties though, so she played with her little friends in the air conditioned play area. She didn't know how good she had it because it is a hot 30 minutes on the side watching people swim while you sit on hot concrete.


The last day, the kids get to go down the big slide. For most of the kids, this is a big motivator. For mine, it's an episode of "Fear Factor."



Did I mention we all got reacquainted with some verses from Joshua, sung in the car, in the locker room, at the pool side..."Be strong and courageous and do not be afraid. The Lord goes with you each and every day. He'll never forsake you. Don't be afraid." It's true...both for Mom and Son.

And here he is on the last day.

Oh, and the delicious irony of Owen...now that lessons are over, we go to this same pool and instead of splashing and playing, he does drills for himself. He picks a skill and does reps until he can go farther than he's gone before. Coach C had lifeguard duty the other day and just shook his head at Owen. He said, "Umm, where was this motivation last month?" Buried deep, Coach, buried very, very deep. All's well that ends well, right?