As I’m approaching the final of my divorce, I’ve been re-reading my book “The Peacegiver.” It’s really hard working to forgive my ex-husband. At times I pray that I might love the man, but there are other times when that’s the farthest thing from my prayers. I understand why it would help me. And I realize it’s the best thing for my relationship with my Heavenly Father. But still I have to pray that I might have a measure of my Heavenly Father’s love for the man.
Yesterday I was thinking, it’s easy to love my kids, even when they hurt me. Lately the kids haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, and have destroyed the house among many other things. My son missed dinner the other day because he never came inside. But I don’t have to pray to love them. I just do love them. I know they have nothing against me, and they are innocent.
And despite everything, the same is true of my ex-husband. He really has no desire to hurt me. He really does want what’s best for me. And in his strange logic, this divorce was actually to help me. He thinks himself unworthy, and wanted to set me free to find a better man. And yet, I still have to pray, Lord help me to love him. I know you said that we should love our enemies, and I certainly know that’s where I fall.
I have a hard time reading my book. Every time I do, my heart hurts. I realize how far away I am from where I want to be. It hurts even more to realize all the blessings I’m turning my back on. I’m staying the Lord’s hand.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Sleeping
When I woke my son up, I asked him, what are you doing in the closet? His groggy response was it was more comfortable then his bed. I looked at him in disbelief. I think his definition of comfortable, and mine are pretty far apart!
Sunday, March 25, 2007
After Choir
Probably three of the Sisters who sing in Choir have young children that stay with them for various reasons. We have more members of choir under the age of 10 than we have of singing members. So each week there is a battle with where the children will stay.
This week I closed my two into the small classroom adjacent to the Choir room. I left them with our Church back-pack, which worked so well last week. The noises coming from the room were mild.
But last night my son got into the bathroom cleaner. While I was in my bath he nabbed the bottle of Orange Spray from his bathroom. He sprayed down his room, the bathroom mirror, his sister's blanket, the carpet, etc. He used the whole big spray bottle. I was furious.
Our Choir director is a single man, and he commented on how quiet my children were. Yeah, and my son was quiet as he used the whole can of bathroom cleaner. Well what can they do in a closed classroom? You wait and see, just you wait and see.
And as I predicted, the room looked like a tornado hit it. What did they do to those chairs, did they take them apart? He said in a stunned whisper. I had to look for a while before I figured out that the chair has all been turned over and aranged with their legs straight in the air. And then they found the tape cassette in my bag. The pulled out all the brown tape, and spewed it around the room. And then everything else from the bag was thrown about the room. It was chaos.
He looked at me with this very stunned expression. Which was basically how I felt, but since I was the mother, I was struggling to figure out how to deal with this.
"Guys, clean up the room. Put everything back in the church bag. You have five minutes. Meet me out at the car when you're done."
And I walked away. He walked with me, questioning me if the kids would really do it. I said yes they would because I had trusted them. And never mind that most of the stuff scattered around the room was our's. They really do like their church toys. If they want them next week, they'll get them into the church bag. At the four minute mark they came running out with the church bag in tow.
This week I closed my two into the small classroom adjacent to the Choir room. I left them with our Church back-pack, which worked so well last week. The noises coming from the room were mild.
But last night my son got into the bathroom cleaner. While I was in my bath he nabbed the bottle of Orange Spray from his bathroom. He sprayed down his room, the bathroom mirror, his sister's blanket, the carpet, etc. He used the whole big spray bottle. I was furious.
Our Choir director is a single man, and he commented on how quiet my children were. Yeah, and my son was quiet as he used the whole can of bathroom cleaner. Well what can they do in a closed classroom? You wait and see, just you wait and see.
And as I predicted, the room looked like a tornado hit it. What did they do to those chairs, did they take them apart? He said in a stunned whisper. I had to look for a while before I figured out that the chair has all been turned over and aranged with their legs straight in the air. And then they found the tape cassette in my bag. The pulled out all the brown tape, and spewed it around the room. And then everything else from the bag was thrown about the room. It was chaos.
He looked at me with this very stunned expression. Which was basically how I felt, but since I was the mother, I was struggling to figure out how to deal with this.
"Guys, clean up the room. Put everything back in the church bag. You have five minutes. Meet me out at the car when you're done."
And I walked away. He walked with me, questioning me if the kids would really do it. I said yes they would because I had trusted them. And never mind that most of the stuff scattered around the room was our's. They really do like their church toys. If they want them next week, they'll get them into the church bag. At the four minute mark they came running out with the church bag in tow.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Science experiements
Today we tried our hand at making Cream Soda. We won't know for another 2-4 days if we even succeeded. It was a simple recipe, took less than a half an hour to make. The children kept expecting it to fizz up immediately. How do I explain to them that yeast and sugar take a while to react, especially in such small quantities?
Oh well! They understand that it's a chemical reaction. Put the water, yeast and sugar together, and it will produce bubbles. And I kept them from screaming at each other for 30 minutes! No matter how bad our Cream Soda turns out, 30 minutes of peace is worth it. And then we can try it again!
Oh well! They understand that it's a chemical reaction. Put the water, yeast and sugar together, and it will produce bubbles. And I kept them from screaming at each other for 30 minutes! No matter how bad our Cream Soda turns out, 30 minutes of peace is worth it. And then we can try it again!
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Peace, be still
Choir dismissed early. The younger children in the choir room had reached their limit of what they could endure. And the sounds from the room next door had grown ominously quiet. My babysitters two girls, and my two where housed there. Frightful images flooded my head as I heard less and less. My two whisper when they draw on the walls with markers. I quickly walked to the door, fearful of what I would find.
It was the picture of calm. On the floor were my son, and the 9 year old, busy with the maze book. The blond hair and black hair were pressed close together as they studied the book. I heard the quiet consulting, does this one go thru, no, no, we’ve checked that one. They hardly looked up at me when I opened the door.
At the table was the oldest girl. She had the Bible Heroes set up, Daniel in the Lion’s Den, David and Goliath. My daughter sat near her, reading out loud from the scripture scrolls that came with each set of Bible Heroes. My daughter also glanced up, telling me she was reading the Bible. The older girl explained that she was teaching Sunday School, and my daughter was reading the scripture reference.
I rushed back into the Choir room and grabbed our babysitter. Come here, now, you have got to see this, I said as I grabbed her. Oh no, she muttered. The four kids put together can often be an unholy terror. I assured her it was a good thing. We each stood at the door, nearly crying in joy.
Finally though we had to intrude on the quiet, constructive play. I explained to all four children how pleased I was with their behavior, that they’d be exemplary. The older two girls beamed at my words of praise. My two smiled, but were quickly upset when we had to pack up all the church books, and church toys.
I guess I’ll have to be like the righteous woman who hounded the wicked judge, praying that my children will have calm, learning experiences like that each Sunday, and each day. Most importantly, each Sunday.
It was the picture of calm. On the floor were my son, and the 9 year old, busy with the maze book. The blond hair and black hair were pressed close together as they studied the book. I heard the quiet consulting, does this one go thru, no, no, we’ve checked that one. They hardly looked up at me when I opened the door.
At the table was the oldest girl. She had the Bible Heroes set up, Daniel in the Lion’s Den, David and Goliath. My daughter sat near her, reading out loud from the scripture scrolls that came with each set of Bible Heroes. My daughter also glanced up, telling me she was reading the Bible. The older girl explained that she was teaching Sunday School, and my daughter was reading the scripture reference.
I rushed back into the Choir room and grabbed our babysitter. Come here, now, you have got to see this, I said as I grabbed her. Oh no, she muttered. The four kids put together can often be an unholy terror. I assured her it was a good thing. We each stood at the door, nearly crying in joy.
Finally though we had to intrude on the quiet, constructive play. I explained to all four children how pleased I was with their behavior, that they’d be exemplary. The older two girls beamed at my words of praise. My two smiled, but were quickly upset when we had to pack up all the church books, and church toys.
I guess I’ll have to be like the righteous woman who hounded the wicked judge, praying that my children will have calm, learning experiences like that each Sunday, and each day. Most importantly, each Sunday.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
The Science Class
“See how the seed casing is still on the leaves?”
Small heads nodded, and some of the kids crowded nearer.
“As the leaves grow larger, it will pop the seed casing off.”
“I learned about seeds in school!”
“We did a unit on flowers.”
“What’s that one’s name?”
“This right here is a Don Juan climbing rose. As it grows it won’t be able to support it’s own weight. Instead it will start to cling to the patio fence and grow taller like that.”
“We had a bush growing next to our fence, so we had to cut it down.”
Me and ten children were on our knees, in the dirt, peering at seedlings less than an inch high. Some how my afternoon inspection of my small garden instead turned into a science lesson. For the children, the most interesting one was one a bird had snapped off. We passed it around. The tiny leaves were visible in the still attached seed casing.
The children looked in awe as I pointed out the growing rose bud on Peace. They were stunned that I could show which Sunflowers will be reds, and which will be yellows. As the leaves grow, a red sunflower’s first few leaves have a black lining to them. Also, its initial stem is a dark red color instead of green.
When I left for Wal-Mart, the kids asked me if they could continue to look at my tiny garden. I told them no problem, just as long as they didn’t walk in it. Kneeling on their knees, peering at the minute plants, they agreed.
I heard one mutter; I’ve never seen anything like this at school! They began looking around to see where all the tiny plants are, spotting the ones that are in the grass, and other far flung places.
Small heads nodded, and some of the kids crowded nearer.
“As the leaves grow larger, it will pop the seed casing off.”
“I learned about seeds in school!”
“We did a unit on flowers.”
“What’s that one’s name?”
“This right here is a Don Juan climbing rose. As it grows it won’t be able to support it’s own weight. Instead it will start to cling to the patio fence and grow taller like that.”
“We had a bush growing next to our fence, so we had to cut it down.”
Me and ten children were on our knees, in the dirt, peering at seedlings less than an inch high. Some how my afternoon inspection of my small garden instead turned into a science lesson. For the children, the most interesting one was one a bird had snapped off. We passed it around. The tiny leaves were visible in the still attached seed casing.
The children looked in awe as I pointed out the growing rose bud on Peace. They were stunned that I could show which Sunflowers will be reds, and which will be yellows. As the leaves grow, a red sunflower’s first few leaves have a black lining to them. Also, its initial stem is a dark red color instead of green.
When I left for Wal-Mart, the kids asked me if they could continue to look at my tiny garden. I told them no problem, just as long as they didn’t walk in it. Kneeling on their knees, peering at the minute plants, they agreed.
I heard one mutter; I’ve never seen anything like this at school! They began looking around to see where all the tiny plants are, spotting the ones that are in the grass, and other far flung places.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Peter Principle of Purses
Peter Principle of Purses: The stuff you have to carry with you will expand to fill the purse. And may the Lord have mercy on your soul if you should try to convert to a smaller purse.
I bought this wonderful purse. It’s handmade in India. The panels are composed of recycled Sari fabric. Mine is pink. In metallic thread there is a peacock embroidered along with a temple, and so many other wonderful things. It is a tiny, delicate bag, sparkly and pretty. I adore it! I think it’s a Piece of Art that I get to wear on my arm. The only problem is that it is so small, and I have to reduce all my stuff to fit in it.
I also bought a set of Peruvian Wool cosmetic bags. Two of them fit in my tiny Indian purse. They are holding my money, my bank card, my driver’s license and all that paraphernalia. But now I’ve got the largest bag holding my essential oils, my Bach Floral remedies, along with my lipstick. Would you believe, I had four lipsticks in my old purse! I was a little surprised.
No matter what, I’m over the moon with my new purchases! Not only are they really pretty, but they help the world. Each of these items is made in Fair Trade agreements. They bring business to underdeveloped areas. My personal belief is the business, not aid is what the developing world needs. If you give a man a fish, he eats for a day, but if you teach him to fish, he eats for a lifetime. AIDS in Africa, Deforestation in the Amazon basin, full scale corruption in Russia, and child prostitution in South East Asia, all of those can be solved by stabilizing the business market of each country.
And as Christ teaches, just believing something, doesn’t save you. Even the Devil believes that Christ is the savior. You have to put your beliefs into action and do something about it. And so, Peter Principle aside, I feel like a million bucks with my recycled Sari purse, and Peruvian wool cosmetic bags.
I bought this wonderful purse. It’s handmade in India. The panels are composed of recycled Sari fabric. Mine is pink. In metallic thread there is a peacock embroidered along with a temple, and so many other wonderful things. It is a tiny, delicate bag, sparkly and pretty. I adore it! I think it’s a Piece of Art that I get to wear on my arm. The only problem is that it is so small, and I have to reduce all my stuff to fit in it.
I also bought a set of Peruvian Wool cosmetic bags. Two of them fit in my tiny Indian purse. They are holding my money, my bank card, my driver’s license and all that paraphernalia. But now I’ve got the largest bag holding my essential oils, my Bach Floral remedies, along with my lipstick. Would you believe, I had four lipsticks in my old purse! I was a little surprised.
No matter what, I’m over the moon with my new purchases! Not only are they really pretty, but they help the world. Each of these items is made in Fair Trade agreements. They bring business to underdeveloped areas. My personal belief is the business, not aid is what the developing world needs. If you give a man a fish, he eats for a day, but if you teach him to fish, he eats for a lifetime. AIDS in Africa, Deforestation in the Amazon basin, full scale corruption in Russia, and child prostitution in South East Asia, all of those can be solved by stabilizing the business market of each country.
And as Christ teaches, just believing something, doesn’t save you. Even the Devil believes that Christ is the savior. You have to put your beliefs into action and do something about it. And so, Peter Principle aside, I feel like a million bucks with my recycled Sari purse, and Peruvian wool cosmetic bags.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Natural Healing
“Do you want to borrow something before I leave for the day?”
“YES! Thank you so much! Where’s the one I was using yesterday?”
“The brown bottle, and then you were using Stress Relief.”
“I love that stuff, I’m not sure which worked better. Do you mind if I take some of both?”
“Go right ahead, that’s why I came over.”
My essential blends, and bottles of Bach Floral remedies have become highly prized with a certain set of my co-workers. Yesterday one of my friends was on the verge of a panic attack. I let her borrow my stuff and she calmed down.
“Yesterday when I said she needed some grounding, you were the only one who knew what I meant.”
I smiled at the other girl. I’ve heard her talk about her collection of essential oils. I would love to get my hands on that collection!
I can talk the new age, meditation lingo. I need to be grounded, and centered. I need to meditate on my protective color so my mind is better attuned. And I actually know what it means, and sometimes do it. My favorite mantras are hymns, or verses from the scriptures. I use Blue as my astral shield color. I meditate on God, praying to open my mind to hear Him. I like to sit in quiet peace, letting the words of scripture drop thru my mind, feeling the Spirit grow within me.
And then reality hits. The Houston office lost power today, and we got all their calls. Give me a moment here while I get that priced for you. (Hold please while I take a breather from this! And a few more drops of a different Bach Remedy.)
I like being recognized for my essential oils. Everybody who’s tried them has said my blends are worthy of being sold. But I wouldn’t have the faintest idea where and how to do that, and neither do I have the money or time to do that right now.
I would really like to do more with natural medicine, and holistic healing. But there is laundry waiting to be folded, and I need to get to bed.
“YES! Thank you so much! Where’s the one I was using yesterday?”
“The brown bottle, and then you were using Stress Relief.”
“I love that stuff, I’m not sure which worked better. Do you mind if I take some of both?”
“Go right ahead, that’s why I came over.”
My essential blends, and bottles of Bach Floral remedies have become highly prized with a certain set of my co-workers. Yesterday one of my friends was on the verge of a panic attack. I let her borrow my stuff and she calmed down.
“Yesterday when I said she needed some grounding, you were the only one who knew what I meant.”
I smiled at the other girl. I’ve heard her talk about her collection of essential oils. I would love to get my hands on that collection!
I can talk the new age, meditation lingo. I need to be grounded, and centered. I need to meditate on my protective color so my mind is better attuned. And I actually know what it means, and sometimes do it. My favorite mantras are hymns, or verses from the scriptures. I use Blue as my astral shield color. I meditate on God, praying to open my mind to hear Him. I like to sit in quiet peace, letting the words of scripture drop thru my mind, feeling the Spirit grow within me.
And then reality hits. The Houston office lost power today, and we got all their calls. Give me a moment here while I get that priced for you. (Hold please while I take a breather from this! And a few more drops of a different Bach Remedy.)
I like being recognized for my essential oils. Everybody who’s tried them has said my blends are worthy of being sold. But I wouldn’t have the faintest idea where and how to do that, and neither do I have the money or time to do that right now.
I would really like to do more with natural medicine, and holistic healing. But there is laundry waiting to be folded, and I need to get to bed.
Answered prayers
“Heavenly Father answered my prayers!” my son screamed as he ran thru the house. First he held the car aloft, and then he clutched it to his chest. “I imagined it in my heart, and I told Him in my head, and it happened!”
At church they call it reverence, here we call it praying with your heart. My kids like to goof off while we pray. So, in a recent story of Jesus it talked about how the Pharisees prayed with their mouth but not in their heart. From there we’ve gone on to discuss that a prayer really starts in your heart, and comes out. When we pray with our heart, our whole body is still so that our mind can focus.
Really, the House Fairy, aka Mommy brought him the wonderful toy car that he’s been dreaming of. But I’m even more proud of him for praising his Heavenly Father, and associating this with his prayers. I like that even better!
At church they call it reverence, here we call it praying with your heart. My kids like to goof off while we pray. So, in a recent story of Jesus it talked about how the Pharisees prayed with their mouth but not in their heart. From there we’ve gone on to discuss that a prayer really starts in your heart, and comes out. When we pray with our heart, our whole body is still so that our mind can focus.
Really, the House Fairy, aka Mommy brought him the wonderful toy car that he’s been dreaming of. But I’m even more proud of him for praising his Heavenly Father, and associating this with his prayers. I like that even better!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Fences
Max broke thru the fence, and escaped into the neighborhood yesterday. Max is my babysitter’s dog. He is a labardoodle, nearly the size of Great Dane’s that I’ve seen. He looks like a shaggy wolfhound. The dog is completely unaware of the 2-foot tale that wags around behind him. He bounds around the house like a puppy, nosing into everything. He’s taller than my 5-year-old daughter!
So this huge dog escaped the confines of the backyard. And had to be hunted down with the truck. My kids thought it was the funniest experience of their day. They relived each moment in glorious detail, Max panting and slobbering in the truck; Max knocking down the fence, Max running away, Max thinking it was a chase game.
Then I turned the discussion around. Why was it bad for Max to get out? Did Max understand any of this? The kids concluded Max thought it was fun to run away, but really a fence was the best thing for him.
I’ve been reading books on teenager psychology, hoping to get ahead of the game. I fear all I’m doing is getting myself more scared of the day my two wonderful kids get hit head on with puberty. But this living example seemed so in line with teenagers, and how they rebel against boundaries designed to keep them safe.
So tonight we actually had that conversation. Mommy’s rules are the fence that keeps you safe. Like one of Mommy’s rules is no smoking, and no drinking. We didn’t discuss the reasons, already discussed that actually. But I explained those were my fences to help keep them safe.
My daughter went off on a tangent about other fences. She actually discussed the fence in her stomach that keeps her food in her stomach! Man alive, when they finally get this kid into the Talented and Gifted program they are going to have their hands full.
Who knows if the kids will remember this discussion, but hopefully I’ll remember this incident to remind them.
So this huge dog escaped the confines of the backyard. And had to be hunted down with the truck. My kids thought it was the funniest experience of their day. They relived each moment in glorious detail, Max panting and slobbering in the truck; Max knocking down the fence, Max running away, Max thinking it was a chase game.
Then I turned the discussion around. Why was it bad for Max to get out? Did Max understand any of this? The kids concluded Max thought it was fun to run away, but really a fence was the best thing for him.
I’ve been reading books on teenager psychology, hoping to get ahead of the game. I fear all I’m doing is getting myself more scared of the day my two wonderful kids get hit head on with puberty. But this living example seemed so in line with teenagers, and how they rebel against boundaries designed to keep them safe.
So tonight we actually had that conversation. Mommy’s rules are the fence that keeps you safe. Like one of Mommy’s rules is no smoking, and no drinking. We didn’t discuss the reasons, already discussed that actually. But I explained those were my fences to help keep them safe.
My daughter went off on a tangent about other fences. She actually discussed the fence in her stomach that keeps her food in her stomach! Man alive, when they finally get this kid into the Talented and Gifted program they are going to have their hands full.
Who knows if the kids will remember this discussion, but hopefully I’ll remember this incident to remind them.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Plants
There is a logic puzzle I love to work thru. It’s the growth pattern of plants.
Plants do not have a brain, so there plant hormones work in simple manners. There is no thyroid gland to direct the growth. For instance, the evergreen tree is an excellent example. They grow in a cone pattern, wide at the bottom, and narrow at the top. The hormone for outward growth is exuded from the roots. The branches at the bottom absorb it, and then what’s left makes its way up the trunk. By the time the hormone gets to the top branches, there is very little left in the sap. So the branches do not grow out, but up.
I planted some new roses bushes. I’m watching them, admiring the way they grow. Each leaf competes with the other leaves for sunlight. If I just knew enough, I could predict exactly how they will grow. I know how to recognize the growth of a rose blossom probably 3-4 months before it will bloom.
Since I’ve put the rose bushes in the ground, I’ve noticed that emotionally I’ve calmed down a lot. It’s as if it is me who’s been grounded, and not the plants. Maybe it’s the quiet observation of the plants that makes such a huge difference. Maybe it’s tugging at weeds, and releasing my frustration. I enjoy caring for them. They don’t argue like my kids. And they reward me so wonderfully.
Plants do not have a brain, so there plant hormones work in simple manners. There is no thyroid gland to direct the growth. For instance, the evergreen tree is an excellent example. They grow in a cone pattern, wide at the bottom, and narrow at the top. The hormone for outward growth is exuded from the roots. The branches at the bottom absorb it, and then what’s left makes its way up the trunk. By the time the hormone gets to the top branches, there is very little left in the sap. So the branches do not grow out, but up.
I planted some new roses bushes. I’m watching them, admiring the way they grow. Each leaf competes with the other leaves for sunlight. If I just knew enough, I could predict exactly how they will grow. I know how to recognize the growth of a rose blossom probably 3-4 months before it will bloom.
Since I’ve put the rose bushes in the ground, I’ve noticed that emotionally I’ve calmed down a lot. It’s as if it is me who’s been grounded, and not the plants. Maybe it’s the quiet observation of the plants that makes such a huge difference. Maybe it’s tugging at weeds, and releasing my frustration. I enjoy caring for them. They don’t argue like my kids. And they reward me so wonderfully.
Friday, March 9, 2007
Talented and Gifted
Today I got paperwork home for my daughter to be enrolled in our school's talented and gifted program. Last year, when she was in Pre-K, her teacher said it was obvious this was a child destined for the Talented and Gifted program. It's been over a year, so I guess this was a long time coming.
I filled out the questionnaire. She scored as high as possible on everything. And now I have to come up with examples of her brilliant nature. I e-mailed my ex the questions so he can contribute, and sent them to my parents to help me.
I'm so proud of her.
And yet, my son is failing first grade. I see now that it will be a while before he qualifies for this program. He is a quiet, sensitive kid who studies the world. He is not as talkative as his sister, nor as demonstrative. He is studious. The school honors and rewards bright, friendly, creative kids.
I can see that both of my kids can go far in life. My daughter fits the ideal, and will get lots of help, and information. She will know the right things, and be Miss Popular. My son is the one that I catch studying my coffee table books. He looks at things, and thinks. He can play by himself, build stuff, and tell himself stories. And he's become suspicious that Mom is the House Fairy. He catches on to things that his sister misses. He's also the one who figured out that the only way of showing his teacher he wasn't happy was to not do his work. He doesn't rebel openly against her because then he would get in trouble.
I'm upset that it's going to take alot longer for the school to recognize and honor my son's intelligence. I'm very happy they've noticed my daughter.
I filled out the questionnaire. She scored as high as possible on everything. And now I have to come up with examples of her brilliant nature. I e-mailed my ex the questions so he can contribute, and sent them to my parents to help me.
I'm so proud of her.
And yet, my son is failing first grade. I see now that it will be a while before he qualifies for this program. He is a quiet, sensitive kid who studies the world. He is not as talkative as his sister, nor as demonstrative. He is studious. The school honors and rewards bright, friendly, creative kids.
I can see that both of my kids can go far in life. My daughter fits the ideal, and will get lots of help, and information. She will know the right things, and be Miss Popular. My son is the one that I catch studying my coffee table books. He looks at things, and thinks. He can play by himself, build stuff, and tell himself stories. And he's become suspicious that Mom is the House Fairy. He catches on to things that his sister misses. He's also the one who figured out that the only way of showing his teacher he wasn't happy was to not do his work. He doesn't rebel openly against her because then he would get in trouble.
I'm upset that it's going to take alot longer for the school to recognize and honor my son's intelligence. I'm very happy they've noticed my daughter.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Dear Principal,
My son is failing First Grade. Earlier this year I met with the counselor, and his teacher. We all agreed that his academic failings were based on his inability to complete work or turn it in on time.
The three of us discussed behavioral changes that could be made on the home front to assist him. I have made these changes, and have been consistent in them. His grades improved for the 3rd 6 weeks, but plummeted in the 4th six weeks.
His teacher suggested that Ian might be exhibiting signs of ADD. We completed the questionnaire. Her portion showed that his behavior warranted further investigation. The at home portion rated him within normal. I have since made some dietary changes that have dramatically improved his behavior at home and at school.
I have concluded that the academic problem lies at school, and not at home.
I have observed a basic personality conflict between my son and his teacher. They both rigidly adhere to structures and rules. He has become very frustrated in class. He is forced to adhere to his teacher's routines and has no room to create his own. He doesn't function well when he senses a loss of control. As Love and Logic teaches, a child without control over his own situation will find other ways to maintain control. The only thing left to him is to control how much work he completes.
He is so behind that he sees no way to get caught up. The overwhelming amount of work has scared off his desire to learn. He is caught in a cycle that will have him repeating first grade.
I am requesting that he be pulled out of this class and placed with another teacher. I know that another failed under this, but is now doing quite well under Mrs. F. I would like Ian placed in Mrs. F's classroom. Please help me resolve this situation so my son doesn't suffer the humiliation of repeating First Grade.
My son is failing First Grade. Earlier this year I met with the counselor, and his teacher. We all agreed that his academic failings were based on his inability to complete work or turn it in on time.
The three of us discussed behavioral changes that could be made on the home front to assist him. I have made these changes, and have been consistent in them. His grades improved for the 3rd 6 weeks, but plummeted in the 4th six weeks.
His teacher suggested that Ian might be exhibiting signs of ADD. We completed the questionnaire. Her portion showed that his behavior warranted further investigation. The at home portion rated him within normal. I have since made some dietary changes that have dramatically improved his behavior at home and at school.
I have concluded that the academic problem lies at school, and not at home.
I have observed a basic personality conflict between my son and his teacher. They both rigidly adhere to structures and rules. He has become very frustrated in class. He is forced to adhere to his teacher's routines and has no room to create his own. He doesn't function well when he senses a loss of control. As Love and Logic teaches, a child without control over his own situation will find other ways to maintain control. The only thing left to him is to control how much work he completes.
He is so behind that he sees no way to get caught up. The overwhelming amount of work has scared off his desire to learn. He is caught in a cycle that will have him repeating first grade.
I am requesting that he be pulled out of this class and placed with another teacher. I know that another failed under this, but is now doing quite well under Mrs. F. I would like Ian placed in Mrs. F's classroom. Please help me resolve this situation so my son doesn't suffer the humiliation of repeating First Grade.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Mom is not the House Fairy
My son has had a moment of brilliance. Mom is not the House Fairy! He is now totally sure that Mom is not bringing the wonderful little treats.
On Saturday I went out his House Fairy treat before we left to run errands. I was so scared he’d go into the bedroom before we left the house. And he did! But he didn’t see the surprise sitting up on his bed.
When we stopped by Wal-Mart, they had a wonderful supply of the characters from Cars. My son loves these, and will do anything for them. He has two versions of Lightening, and one Mater. They are often sold out of this hot commodity, so I picked up four different ones, promising to give them to the House Fairy to use as treats. He looked at me, as if he’d caught on to how this worked.
But when we got home, he found a double pack of Ramone, and Flo, two wonderful characters from the movie, already on his bed. He was completely stunned. His nice little theory went flying out the window, and he was left to conclude that the House Fairy really did come to our house.
Ever since then, he’s been regularly cleaning his room. Now he wants to go to sleep in case the House Fairy comes to bring him one of those great toys that he saw me buy.
I love the House Fairy!
On Saturday I went out his House Fairy treat before we left to run errands. I was so scared he’d go into the bedroom before we left the house. And he did! But he didn’t see the surprise sitting up on his bed.
When we stopped by Wal-Mart, they had a wonderful supply of the characters from Cars. My son loves these, and will do anything for them. He has two versions of Lightening, and one Mater. They are often sold out of this hot commodity, so I picked up four different ones, promising to give them to the House Fairy to use as treats. He looked at me, as if he’d caught on to how this worked.
But when we got home, he found a double pack of Ramone, and Flo, two wonderful characters from the movie, already on his bed. He was completely stunned. His nice little theory went flying out the window, and he was left to conclude that the House Fairy really did come to our house.
Ever since then, he’s been regularly cleaning his room. Now he wants to go to sleep in case the House Fairy comes to bring him one of those great toys that he saw me buy.
I love the House Fairy!
My accidental genuis
This is one of those days when I wish I had a scanner.
I was going thru my daughter’s binder and found this one page of schoolwork. Since the picture she was identifying was on the right hand side, she wrote the word from right to left. The words are completely backwards; I mean mirror image of what it should be. The order is reversed; the shape of the letter is backwards.
Mind you, this is the kid who sings the alphabet backwards. She is a precocious, brilliant child. I think she just saw an opportunity to write the answer in an interesting manner. Thinking of the answer was easy enough, and she had more than enough brainpower left over to write the word totally backwards.
I’m sunk when this kid grows up to a teenager.
I was going thru my daughter’s binder and found this one page of schoolwork. Since the picture she was identifying was on the right hand side, she wrote the word from right to left. The words are completely backwards; I mean mirror image of what it should be. The order is reversed; the shape of the letter is backwards.
Mind you, this is the kid who sings the alphabet backwards. She is a precocious, brilliant child. I think she just saw an opportunity to write the answer in an interesting manner. Thinking of the answer was easy enough, and she had more than enough brainpower left over to write the word totally backwards.
I’m sunk when this kid grows up to a teenager.
Friday, March 2, 2007
Football!
I am training up a wonderful footballer. My hallway has become our football pitch. We kick the ball back and forth. He screams in pleasure!
Yes, I bought my son a soccer ball for his birthday. He has informed me it is not a football. A football in a brown oval thing that you carry, Mom! See, I told him, how can that be a football, now look see, dis one-dis one we use da feet!
My one rule, hands are not used on our ball. As a result, both my kids have learned ball control techniques within the 3 days this ball has been bouncing around our home.
Tonight we spent about ten minutes kicking the ball up and down the hallway. My son still tries to use the front of his foot, but he’s quickly finding out that hurts his toes. He sees me use the side of my foot, and he’s trying to imitate me.
I got in a couple of really hard kicks. He squealed with glee, especially when the ball went high and hit the wall. I stared at him, the ashamed look of a child, and he laughed at me. Mommy became just the same as him, a kid enjoying the ball.
We’ll have to take the ball to a park around here this weekend and really chase it! Run and kick and have a good time! He’s got a lot of learning to do.
When I was seven, I was in Nigeria, playing football against the village kids. All of them knew how to control the ball, and all I could do was put my leg in the foray. I was no match for them.
My son is the same. He will never be a star player, and so what! He’s having a ton of fun, and burning off some energy!
Yes, I bought my son a soccer ball for his birthday. He has informed me it is not a football. A football in a brown oval thing that you carry, Mom! See, I told him, how can that be a football, now look see, dis one-dis one we use da feet!
My one rule, hands are not used on our ball. As a result, both my kids have learned ball control techniques within the 3 days this ball has been bouncing around our home.
Tonight we spent about ten minutes kicking the ball up and down the hallway. My son still tries to use the front of his foot, but he’s quickly finding out that hurts his toes. He sees me use the side of my foot, and he’s trying to imitate me.
I got in a couple of really hard kicks. He squealed with glee, especially when the ball went high and hit the wall. I stared at him, the ashamed look of a child, and he laughed at me. Mommy became just the same as him, a kid enjoying the ball.
We’ll have to take the ball to a park around here this weekend and really chase it! Run and kick and have a good time! He’s got a lot of learning to do.
When I was seven, I was in Nigeria, playing football against the village kids. All of them knew how to control the ball, and all I could do was put my leg in the foray. I was no match for them.
My son is the same. He will never be a star player, and so what! He’s having a ton of fun, and burning off some energy!
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Sugar
I ate some sugar today, actually some candy. Bad idea, really bad idea!
I passed the candy bowl in the lobby as I went to the break room. Jessica had refilled it with my favorites, so I grabbed a few thinking nothing of it. In the break room I pulled out my granola bar, and took the candy back to my desk. As I popped the first piece in my mouth it dawned on me that these were really just little pieces of stress, and with the day I was already having, eating them was not a good idea.
But with the stress I was having, I wanted to indulge myself. And besides, it hurt so much to think of throwing them away, or putting them back in the bowl. So I ate the first one. I felt my body slow down, a nice lethargy creep over me, something akin to the quiet peace that invades as I snuggle up in bed. I ripped open the second one. Only a few bites into it, my head became light, and the all pervasive feeling of anxiety swept away any pleasure. And yet I continued to finish off the candy. By the time I was done I knew that my mental nick-name of "bits of stress" for candy was a very real name. I feel light headed, and unfocused. I was clawing my way back to reality, anxious and nervous.
Sugar. Not a good thing in my book. Stay away from it. It's a poison.
I passed the candy bowl in the lobby as I went to the break room. Jessica had refilled it with my favorites, so I grabbed a few thinking nothing of it. In the break room I pulled out my granola bar, and took the candy back to my desk. As I popped the first piece in my mouth it dawned on me that these were really just little pieces of stress, and with the day I was already having, eating them was not a good idea.
But with the stress I was having, I wanted to indulge myself. And besides, it hurt so much to think of throwing them away, or putting them back in the bowl. So I ate the first one. I felt my body slow down, a nice lethargy creep over me, something akin to the quiet peace that invades as I snuggle up in bed. I ripped open the second one. Only a few bites into it, my head became light, and the all pervasive feeling of anxiety swept away any pleasure. And yet I continued to finish off the candy. By the time I was done I knew that my mental nick-name of "bits of stress" for candy was a very real name. I feel light headed, and unfocused. I was clawing my way back to reality, anxious and nervous.
Sugar. Not a good thing in my book. Stay away from it. It's a poison.
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