Zombie Lessons in Parenting (SOLSC--Day 4)

I was watching the most recent episode of "The Walking Dead" -- a show in some ways completely out of my usual viewing pleasure, but in others exactly what I crave. I could do without the blood, entrails, guns, profanity and zombie-moaning, but the questions the show raises are provocative, important and powerful.  Tonight the show has got me thinking about this: do we raise our children for the world we want to live in or the world we actually live in? And what if the two never meet up -- have we done them a disservice either way? And finally, as flawed, mere mortals ourselves, is it possible to raise our kids "right" or are we all destined to damage our children in some way even while trying to be good parents? Regardless all of the zombie- munching craziness, I have to admit I am hooked.

S'more, Please! (SOLSC--Day 3)

Sometimes we set out to make traditions, but what I love is when they just take form all on their own. A couple of months ago, I tried to make s'mores sans campfire for my son's Campout themed birthday. They became a hot mess. Literally, a hot gooey mess. (The s'mores, not the kids.) Seeing I was flustered and trying to manage a small apartment full of boys, my husband stepped in and offered to redo the s'mores for me and I gladly accepted. They turned out perfectly.  Now, the boys see Daddy as the s'more king and tonight when he offered to make those wonderful s'mores, we couldn't say no. S'mores are almost a bit too sweet and this slice is probably cavity-inducing, too. But, sometimes at the end of a long, busy week, that's just the kind of treat I need to have.

Definitions (SOLSC--Day 2)

A student asked me today how we know when we love someone.  Her question was not in connection with a romantic relationship she was trying to navigate, but instead stemmed from her feelings for her parents.  "I care about them," she said, "And I would never wish anything bad to happen to them, but I am just not sure that's what love is."

And in that moment, I am reminded again about why I am a teacher.  It isn't really to teach English or to share a love of books or even to inspire excellent writing.  She wanted to ask questions and have it be okay that the answers weren't complete because we are always moving closer to the truth but never quite reaching it.  I am a teacher because that young lady needed a space to speak those words and she needed me to care about them and really consider my response.  She wanted to open her heart a bit wider than she usually does and know I could be trusted with what was inside.

And that's what I told her I think love is.

Listening to My Talker (SOLSC--Day1)

My five year old is a talker.  I mean, he talks from the moment he lifts his little head from his Stitch PillowPet in the morning until the last moments of our evening when his eyes are closing and I have tucked him back into bed. He talks stories and questions and what ifs and do you remember whens. Sometimes he talks in pretend languages and sometimes he repeats conversations he has already had. He talks to strangers in grocery stores and characters in cartoons.  He talks when no one is listening, he talks while he bathes, he talks through any song or television show or movie someone else wants to hear.  Lucas is a talker.

So, when I took him to school with me today, I thought chatting with all of the students would be heaven for him.  A five year old on a high school campus garners attention and I thought he would soak it up.

Instead, every time someone said hi to him , he would look at the ground or hide behind my leg.  I kept telling him not to be shy and to be friendly, but he still refused.  He has a stubborn streak, so I thought it might be his way of trying to get his own way.  Finally, as we left campus, I asked him again, "Why are you pretending to be so shy?"

"Mom, I'm not pretending to be shy. I've just had enough of all the 'Hi, hi, hi.' It makes me tired."

I guess just because a little guy has a lot to say, doesn't mean he is an extrovert.  Lucas isn't shy, but he sure does know how he feels.  And he isn't afraid to share it.  And sometimes that makes me fear the years ahead, but today, it just made me smile.

OLW 2011

Last year was my first participating in One Little Word. I chose "discover" and while I haven't done much in a physical way (artwork, scrap booking, etc) with my word, I have definitely been coming back to it all year. Essentially, I wanted 2011 to be a year when I discovered more about myself, more about others and more about the world we live in together. As I look back on the last few months, I see discovery was all around me. I learned more about my sons -- what they need (we did love language surveys!) and what motivates them to grow. I have discovered new approaches in my classroom that have transformed not only my grading practices, but the way I view my students, my work and my craft. I have discovered even more to love about my husband, a man who makes me see things in ways I never would on my own. I have discovered that people all around me need kindness and compassion in the most profound way and I am beginning to discover how I can meet some of those needs. I have recently re-discovered my love of reading. It never left, but I was making no time to nurture it. With each book
I have read, I have discovered new questions to ask myself and new lives to carry in my heart and memory.

With "discover" as my one little word, I think I have approached this year with an increased openness which I hope will continue to grow.

Now, to choose a word for 2012... And maybe you, too?

National Day on Writing

Tomorrow I will be celebrating the National Day on Writing with my students. In preparation I wrote a response to the "Why I Write" prompt offered by NWP (National Writing Project). This is the latest in a long line of short pieces I have written on this topic. Sometimes, even with things we love, we have to remind ourselves why.

Why I Write Today

I am a writer because whenever something significant happens and whenever it doesn't, I itch to put it into words.

When I walk outside in the morning, I want to describe how the fingertips of air touch my skin. When I drive to work, I want to list all of the adjectives I can that describe the sound of my car -- the whir, the grumble, the sigh, the buzz of tires on asphalt.

When I talk with someone, I imagine the words being typed across a screen or written in a notebook. I imagine what that conversation would look like in the pages of a paperback, black type on rough vanilla pages.

I see my words popping up in speech bubbles, filling all the empty space between me and you.

I write because I am breathing, because I am living, because I am loving you and this is how we kiss.

What My Son Said

Wednesday evenings have become my most peaceful of the week. The rest of the family goes to church while I take Nicholas to football practice. For an hour and a half, I don't have to speak to anyone, keep an eye on anyone, feed anyone or take anyone to the potty. I love my job and love my family, and goodness knows I love talking, but that brief respite each week has been a blessing.

And then, I get some time with Nicholas. My middle son, he tends to be the quietest of the three, the least aggressive, the most compliant. On Wednesdays, we get time together uninterrupted by his more demanding brothers (who I love like crazy, too, of course!).

After a dinner at Subway (a shared footlong and a chocolate chip cookie) --which earned me a "You're the best mom in the world!"--we had this conversation as we drove home:
(Passing the pumpkin patch)
Nicholas: Look at all the lights. They are so pretty.
Me: They are! Maybe someday when you get married, you can have a reception with lots of white lights like those.
Nicholas: Yes, and maybe after I get married my wife and I can go to the pumpkin patch.
Me: Then you will have to get married in October.
Nicholas: On Halloween!
Me: Well, whenever you get married, the girl you choose will be so lucky.
Nicholas: I want to marry a pretty girl.
Me: Pretty is fine, but it us more important that you find a girl who is kind.
Nicholas: Boys like pretty girls, not ugly ones.
Me(starting to get a little testy): But kind is the best thing for a girl to be; pretty isn't that important.
Nicholas: Well, you are pretty and Dad married you, so I think I will find a pretty girl, too.
Me (a little less testy): Aww, you are sweet!
Nicholas: Yep, Mom, boys like pretty girls, not ugly ones and girls don't like nerdy boys. Sometimes they like boys who are popular if they only do a few nerdy things.
Me: Like what?
Nicholas: You know, like play the banjo.

I love Wednesday night.