The Family Bully

Today my 2 year old took out a 5 year old. The boy he went after is at least 60 pounds and well over four feet tall. I've been mulling over the F=MA equation and I can only figure that the victim played the role of nice guy.

Tim is frequently the recipient of bigger equals stronger at home. So he has learned that if you want something, including someone's attention, that you need to be physically in their space.

This morning we were at the playground with a bunch of neighborhood kids and they were on the slide. It had a large landing with monkey bars connected, meaning open platform. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Craig falling. He landed on his feet, more or less, and was fine but it is scary to fall backwards from 48" off the ground.

Tim them came over to me looking concerned. I assured him that the boy was OK. Then Megan came to tell me that Tim pushed him. We went over to the boy and his mom and Craig was saying that Tim pushed him. Everyone kind of questions the size differential but I have no doubt that my kid was wrong and he did push this boy. I then realized that Tim's look was guilt.

The only thing that I can figure is that Tim pushed Craig then Craig stepped back to get out of his way and inadvertently went over the edge. I'm confident that this was unprovoked. Tim refused to apologize. I hate when my kids do that. I can't make them speak. In the past when my kids have refused to apologize, they were required to write an apology. At two years old, this isn't an option. So we went home since Tim couldn't play nicely. I'm not really sure that he gets the punishments because our group was breaking up before the incident. So I'm thinking of getting Tim to help me bake cookies or do something nice for Craig then walk them over and perhaps coax a "sorry" from him.

While Tim was clearly wrong and I don't make excuses for his lousy behavior, I do think that birth order has it's effects. He is accustomed to asserting himself physically at home. I try to correct this behavior, but many times I don't know that it is happening. So from his perspective, I'm inconsistent. Looks like we may need more rules for everyone in our house.

The Toothpaste Queen

Drew: Mom, next time you go to the store, can you get more toothpaste? I'm almost out.
Ellen: Mine is low, too.
Megan: I need more toothpaste, too.

OK, I'm glad that they are brushing their teeth. But this is what their drawer with the dental hygiene supplies currently looks like. We also have a Thomas tube somewhere that only Tim might find. I have no problem providing each child with their own tube, but this is insane.

So, I see Drew's empty SpongeBob. If the Barbie Colgate is indeed a different flavor, then I'll replace his. Otherwise, we just won't tell his friends that he's using Barbie toothpaste. Ellen likes Tom's of Maine. I like that it's natural and it indeed tastes different for the others. It's running low so the next time it's on sale I'll replace it.

Megan is our queen of toothpaste. All the other tubes in the drawer are hers. She is totally taken in by the character on the package. Then she decides that she doesn't like the flavor. Those characters con her every time. I'm going to make her identify a brand, flavor and texture (you know, gel or paste) that she likes and that will be her toothpaste for life. She always tricks me at the store because who is going to tell their kid that they can't have toothpaste to brush their teeth? She also likes to collect toothbrushes, but I'm on to that one. Ironically, she is the least likely to brush her teeth.

I was never toothpaste specific until last year. As a kid, I used whatever one tube was in the bathroom. I don't remember complaining about it or asking for something different. Now I'm sold on Colgate Total because my dentist recommended it for tartar and it does work better than the others that I have tried. For the 19 years before that, when I was responsible for getting my own toothpaste, I purchased whatever was on sale when I ran out. And not to jinx myself, but I haven't had a cavity since I was a kid. (I have had a few childhood fillings replaced.)

I don't think that Andy is brand specific. He uses whatever we have without complaining.

So how did we get Megan? And Timothy looks like he is heading down the same path. He likes to carry his Thomas toothpaste and his Baby Einsteins toothbrush, but he HATES to brush his teeth. If you are going to do it for him, it best be before his bath because he seals his lips and it ends up a giant facial mess. Maybe he would like to sample some different options.

15 Years

7 jobs, 5 residences, 8 cars, 4 kids, 15 years. We've survived blizzards, tornadoes and hurricane remnants. I would have never predicted most of it. I wouldn't trade any of it.

Andy has always been supportive, understanding and caring. He listens and loves. He is kind. And he's cute. Sure, we have had our disagreements, but nothing that we haven't resolved.

So, happy anniversary to us.

Happy Birthday

Yesterday was my birthday. While it was just another day in my book, with the bonus of an excuse to ignore household chores, it was extremely important to most of my kids.

Ellen was the chief party planner. She had a table cloth and "happy birthday" confetti to decorate it. She purchased the streamer, shown above, from her classroom store. She calculated the size of the room so that she could figure out how much to use for me and what should be saved for Andy's birthday next week. She helped with the cake and was responsible for the writing on it. She did all the wrapping, I think. She was jumping out if her skin waiting for everyone to wake up so I could open presents.

Megan was excited, too. She put tags on all the presents. She helped with the cake. And she knew just what to get me. You can't tell her that I knew. She was very certain that I needed a new rag. She claimed that I always run out. It needed to be pretty and to have a heart on it. (The only thing I can figure is that I asked her to get a stack of laundry and she felt put upon, because I never run out of rags.) Andy, lovable but not a shopper, was procrastinating on getting them to the store. So last Friday Megan asked me if I would take her to the store to get Dad his gift. I asked her what she had decided to get him. A rag. I avoided that. So yesterday morning I opened a bag of rags (no hearts :-( ), Magic Erasers, and a sponge. Just what I always wanted! There was more, but that was Megan's contribution.

Timothy loves a birthday because he knows that it means cake. And we don't enforce the rule about eating dinner to be eligible for dessert. He was disappointed that we couldn't have cake for lunch but was very happy with his chocolate dinner. Turns out that he is an Indian giver, too. They got me a new hat which he wanted. He threw a mini-tantrum in the car about it.

Drew cares enough to say happy birthday, but after that he's in it for the cake.

I'm an Indian Giver

I go out on a limb and try to do something nice for all of you and what happens? Not a single 12-5 upset. When is the last time that happened? Does this make me an Indian giver? It's really more like a non-gift. But it is somehow worse. It's not like I completely forgot an occasion. It's more like I gave you something that I knew you wouldn't like. Sorry.

Pre-Schoolers From the Midwest

I know it's a little hard to see, but this is a Brio city. Megan, Timothy and a friend from down the street spent 2 hours setting this up and creating their scenario.

The dinosaurs are a museum. There are several museums along the track, you just can't see most of them.

The ball popper, in the middle, is a tornado.

The orb on the orange handle (in front of the round house) is the tornado siren. It doesn't make noise but it does spin and glow when you hold the button in.

The things laying down near Megan's hand are victims caught in the path of the tornado.

Louis is working on repairing the roads that the tornado wiped out.

Timothy was in charge of hauling away the debris left in the wake of the tornado.

And it's only March and we've only had a tornado watch one day. No sirens yet this year. They are either very prepared or completely traumatized.

Taking Matters Into My Own Hands

Today was the day that I set aside for ladder maintenance. The step ladder is heavy and I don't like dragging it around. So I was getting it out once to change burned out light bulbs, replace stolen light bulbs, clean the bathroom fans and light covers, clean the ceiling fans, and dust the plant shelf. (Does anyone keep plants on these when they are 10 feet off the ground?)

The girls have been after me to change the light bulbs in their closet because they like to use it as a night light. But, their room is usually a disaster

and I need to lug that heavy step ladder all the way upstairs. I finally make it to their room and clean the glass and replace the bulbs. I flick the switch. Nothing. Damn.

This is not a new problem. Several months ago, it didn't work either. Andy tried changing the switch. That didn't work. Then we called the builder to send the electrician back. We were pushing the limits of our warranty, but these things happen when it takes 2 months to get around to changing the bulbs before realizing that there is a bigger problem. In the mean time, Ellen told me that one of her receptacles didn't work. I reported this to the electrician who explained that the current usually wraps around the room, running from one outlet to the next. So the problem wasn't really the light, but one of the receptacles within the circuit. He popped the cover off, pretended to tighten already solid connections and voila, there was light. So, when the closet light didn't work today, I tested the outlet that had the problem the last time and sure enough it was dead. The one next to it, on the far side of the closet, worked. Same problem. Well, Andy failed, the electrician failed, I'll do it myself.

1. Turn power off.
2. Remove cover and receptacle and check connectivity.

3. Restore power.

4. Go to Lowe's for a new receptacle. Luckily we don't have the other store.

5. Turn off power.
6. Replace faulty receptacle.

7. Restore power.

8. Ponder how to determine what is wrong with a wire that is inside the wall.
9. Light bulb moment! Turn off power.
10. Switch out the last receptacle that is working because maybe electricity is going in but not moving on.

11. Restore power.

Then I skipped the treadmill because I had already used the basement-to-bedroom StairMaster.

Meeting My Expectations

I was going to spare you this story, but then I figured that this is my blog and if you don't want to read it you don't have to. My feelings won't be hurt. At least I don't think I'll care.

Yesterday was the big day. I loaded the kids into the van and we headed for school. We dropped Drew off, armed with his horn since it was lesson and band day. They are considerate and plan that large instruments only have to haul them back and forth one day per week. Then we headed to Ellen's school. But instead of dropping her off at the back door, I parked and paraded inside with the remaining three children. We wished Ellen luck on The Big Test, sent her to her classroom, and the rest of us went to the office. It was time to register for kindergarten.

For those of you who don't know, I grudgingly settled on public school. None of the privates had everything that was important to me so I was having trouble justifying the price tag.

I know that first thing in the morning is not an ideal time in an elementary school office. They have announcements, which always involve some students, parents signing in tardy children, and more parents dropping off medicine with the nurse, whose office is accessed through the main office. Kindergarten registration was 5 weeks ago so it's not like they were expecting me. But 5 weeks ago I didn't want her to go to this school and this is the time that I could fit it into my schedule. And besides, essentially all they needed to do was hand me a stack of papers and a pen.

The principal overheard what was happening and marched over to introduce herself. I've met her about 4 times before, seen her countless times, and spoken with her on the phone 3 times. So, there was really no need for her to introduce herself. Apparently I haven't made a lasting impression upon her. She can't boast the same claim.

Now, as I said, when we arrived, the office was buzzing with activity and brimming with children. So I understand how Megan could have been mentally grouped with the students. Within a few minutes, the area cleared out and all who remained were staff and the three of us. So, while I'm filling in the blanks, one secretary begins to make small talk with Tim. Despite our introductions and explanations of why we were visiting, she proceeds to ask him about kindergarten. Yes, Tim. My child who is 26 months old. Completely ignoring the 5 year old. Does she not work around kids all day? Does the typical kindergarten student really look like Tim? What did she think when he wasn't answering her? Did she notice that he still wears diapers?

I honestly went with a positive attitude. But I have to say that our experience completely met my expectations. I felt like I was making Megan part of an institution and they didn't care about her. (But maybe Tim will be more to their liking in THREE years when he is old enough to register!) I felt like the school is led by a bunch of bumbling idiots. My only consolation is that Megan has already mastered the kindergarten curriculum so the only reason for her to attend is social.

Dilbert

Andy reads the Dilbert comic. He also reads Scott Adams' blog. When he feels moved, he will post a comment. Scott Adams, or someone on his staff who reads this stuff, even responded to him once. A few months ago, Andy had an itch to share his thoughts. And here, in the comic from this past Sunday, are those ideas. Almost word for word.

My Gift to You

Before you turn in your picks, a minimum of one 12-5 upset ALWAYS.

Story Time

This boy is two. And he is full of energy. But today he did it. He made it through story time at the library. Not once did he take off to be chased. Not once did her yell. And only once did I need to tell him to be quiet. Don't take this to mean that he sat still and listened. But he wasn't loud and disruptive and this is huge progress.

However, while squirming on my lap and playing with his carpet square, he tried to quietly kill me twice. The first time he plopped down on my lap and in the process pinched my leg so hard that I almost screamed. This was minor compared with the headbutt. He gave the illusion of sitting on my lap then jerked his head back and caught me under the chin so hard that my teeth clicked together and made some other woman yelp. (She was mistakenly concerned for the kid.) Now I must endure a tongue that is bruised and swollen on both side.

But, Tim was quiet for 15 minutes. A new record.

Jodi Picoult

Have you tried her yet? I've just discovered her. Good. You should really make the trip to your local library.

The Big Test

Here in Illinois, every public school student in grades 3 through 8 takes the Illinois Standards Achievement Test. The goal of the ISAT is to ensure minimum mastery and safeguard against any child being left behind. If the majority of the students in a given school perform poorly, the state will step in and issue mandates for improvement. The favored first action is to lengthen the school day.

I've never read the teacher contract for our district, but apparently there is much riding on successful performance on these tests. All they have done in third grade for the past 6 weeks is prepare for the ISAT. The teachers lecture on how important these exams are and how the students need to be prepared and do their very best. Students were told that the tests were scary but they would be ready. Who uses the word "scary" with third graders? So, at the end of January, I placed a call to our third grade teacher to discuss Ellen's new found anxiety. I was told that she was taking the speeches too much to heart. That the students who felt this way were not the ones who needed to be addressed.

During the past month, math and reading have been increasingly put on hold in lieu of practice for "The Big Test." That is actually what they call it. They have taken teaching to the test to a whole new level. All they have been doing is either old tests or some form of practice that involves shading the correct bubble completely with a No. 2 pencil. For the record, their reading curriculum utilizes this format exclusively on their weekly tests.

So now it is early March and the test is next week. We've been explaining to Ellen that she is smart and that these tests measure minimum knowledge and she would have performed well on the third grade test last year. All she needs to do is try her best and she will be fine. We've explained that Andy, Drew and I all like taking these tests because they are easy and you can finally work at your own pace and take a 20 minute nap when you complete each section.

To get the students psyched for the test, they learn cheers. They are allowed to wear slippers in class the week of the test. The school provides snacks this week. Additionally, they are fed bubble gum and apple juice before each section. And at the completion of the week, they are given a make your own sundae party. Never underestimate the power of feeding our 8 year olds crap. Oh, and Mom and Dad need to send a letter of encouragement for the first morning. They practically scripted it for us and provided paper and envelope.

So, now that they are all crazed, I mean ready, for The Big Test, the school counselor has been brought in to teach relaxation techniques to be used during said test. Apparently, they do see the monster that they have created. But I doubt that they realize that the school is responsible. They suggested little physical exercises, eating lots of protein and have gone so far as to tell them when to go to bed the night before the test. And boy are they displeased that we turn the clocks the night before all this.

Imagine if they had practiced a few times with new material and actually learned. And what if the teachers just told them how smart they were and that this test will quantify their intelligence? Perhaps they might even exceed expectations because they know how to learn and apply their knowledge. Kind of like our old district, where Drew and the third grade performed just fine on the TestOfNewYorkStateStandards, without all the hoopla.

IllinoisSucksAtTesting

It's The Best Day Ever

Did you ever wake up with a song in your head? Is it always something that you haven't heard in months? Have you ever liked the song? Is it always one of the top 10 most annoying songs on the planet? Welcome to my hell.

Truly wonderful, the mind of my sister is.

With apologies to Megan.

Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is.

A few days ago I was driving down the highway with Megan and Tim in the back of the van. Megan was discussing her activities - piano and swimming. We asked Tim if he wanted to play an instrument. Yes. Violin. Some days it is the piano, but this particular day it was the violin. Then I asked him if he had a sport that he likes best. I suggested swimming, baseball, soccer, football, tennis and basketball.

Then Tim said something about his Tyrone hat. Tyrone is an animated moose from The Backyardigans. He wore a cowboy hat in the Riding the Range episode. We have a cowboy hat. Tim calls it his Tyrone hat and has been inseparable from it this past week.

So Megan, staying on topic, suggests riding horses as a sport that Tim might enjoy. Like a cowboy. She goes on to explain how much she loves riding horses.

Wondering when and where she has ever ridden a horse, other than the carousel at the mall, I inquire. "I rode one at Isabel's house. Drew and Ellen rode in the back on the the way there. (Referring to the back of the station wagon.) It was so cool. I never had that much fun!"

Now, I'm confused. First, this visit to Isabel's house was almost 2 years ago. Second, she was correct that Drew and Ellen were with her. So why don't I recall any of them mentioning the horseback riding? Third, I don't think that either of my girls would have ridden a tethered pony at the fair 2 years ago.

Finally, the others are home from school and I can find out about this riding experience. Have you ever ridden a horse? No. Not even with Isabel? No. Are you sure. Yeah. I think I'd remember that! Did Megan? No.

The funny thing is, aside from My Little Pony, Megan hates horses.

The Trouble with the Ivy League

Brown Bears, Columbia Lions, Cornell Big Red, Dartmouth Big Green, Harvard Crimson, Penn Quakers, Princeton Tigers, Yale Bulldogs

The Ivy League. A group of schools renowned for their academic prowess. Studies supersede athletics. So, for smart people, why are their mascots so overwhelmingly stupid.

Big Red, Big Green and Crimson. Did anyone exert any effort in these selections? They are colors. They are not intimidating characters behind which one can rally.

Some did opt for fierce animals. Lions, tigers, and bears. Oh my. However, these are long standing institutions established well before L. Frank Baum was born.

And just a word on Brown. I'll concede that they showed more creativity than our friends from Cleveland. But the bears? It's a little too Eric Carle. But again, they precede the revered toddler author by centuries.

Quakers? OK, they are historically accurate. But aren't they pacifists?

So I guess that if you are longing to support an Ivy, it would be best to side with Yale. Too bad they are in New Haven.

In Like a Lion

I know. It's all over the news. March is roaring in like a lion. So cliche. I hate the spring and the weather in the Midwest. I still like weather, but I don't like living with it. I used to think that it would be really cool to see a tornado. Well, yeah. I still think that but you sort of get side-tracked when protecting your family. We haven't been shooed to the basement yet but it is coming. This year we are more or less prepared. All the flashlights, with working and backup batteries, candles, and lollipops (must always feed children) are stored in one convenient place. Our backup shoes (because who wears them to bed or wants to grab them after being awakened from a dead sleep?) are currently on loan to preschool for their shoe store. And there is never a cell phone in reach when you need one. But for the most part, we have what we need. This year we created a sitting area decorated in our best dormitory decor. Plastic Adirondack chairs, anchored by an area rug and unused coffee table, partitioned from the rest of the cavernous basement with silk trees that should have gone to the dump years ago. Should there be a strong overnight threat, the kids will sleep on the rug and Andy and I get the mattress from the sleeper sofa. This is so much better than moving everyone at 2:17AM. And the arrangements are none to soon. The sun is rising as I type and the sky has a eerie glow. It's not tornado green and it's not rainy gray and it's not sunrise pink. I can't really name the color but everything has a surreal aura about it. I'm quite certain that a picture wouldn't do it justice.

In other news, third grade seems to be the year to have teeth extracted. Ellen will be joining the ranks next week, if the dentist's child ever gets well so she can come back and see patients. Ellen had one cavity in the center of a tooth that was cleaned out and filled. She is among the 50% of cases where that treatment fails. So, they are taking the tooth out since it wouldn't come out on its own for another few years. In the mean time, knowing that the 3 members of our household who precede her had teeth removed at about age 8, I moved up her orthodontist appointment to see what they thought. If she is having multiple teeth yanked, then I'd like to do them all at one time. Yup. The orthodontist thinks it would be a good idea to remove 4 more to accommodate the many crooked permanent ones. Crooked is a bit of an understatement. They are more like sideways. And there is one that they think will erupt in the roof of her mouth, behind the others. Ellen is thrilled to be the fifth kid in her class to have teeth extracted this year. I think I'll go back to school and study dentistry, a lucrative business. Maybe I'll specialize in orthodontics, since after the teeth come out an appliance goes in to hold the space.

Going out on a limb, I am going to report that Megan can read. She is not fluent, but she gets it. She can sound out almost all short vowel words. She still has a few digraphs left to learn but she gets it. She sounds them out one letter at a time and knows what she reads. Attached to the preschool calendar for March was a letter stating that it is Read Across America month. So that's what we are doing. We're hoping that with 15 minutes a day she will move to long vowels and multi-syllable words before April. Now, all of this means that I am rethinking private school since my primary reason for looking was reading. I still like the private school better for a variety of reasons but fewer of them are academic. And it's a lot of money. If I invest the tuition now, it could pay for a year of college later. Someone please pray that I get some wisdom on this decision!

And can you feel it? It must be March. Some mighty fine match-ups this week and more to come!