Boden, the 5-year-old, has just started soccer. Last week, during their game, his team was losing miserably. There were some good little girls on the other team. Boden, of course, was usually looking the other way, running the wrong way, generally not really getting what soccer is supposed to accomplish. But he noticed all the goals the other team was scoring. So he planted himself in front of his team's net, and blocked the ball when it came in his direction. He actually won an award for being an excellent goalie. Later that day, I asked him why he decided to do that. His coach hadn't asked him to be goalie, he just decided. This was his explanation, "Well, the other team was getting all the stars when they got the ball in their hoop, so I wanted to get some stars, too, so I guarded my hoop."
From this, I take away two main points:
1. He clearly plays too many games on the tablet, where he has to earn stars.
2. While we need to work on terminology a little, I think he has the basic idea of how soccer works. Yay!
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Whose Idea Was This?
Slumber parties--whose idea was that? How could slumber parties ever be a good idea? Ok, let's set aside all the *really* bad things that can happen at sleep overs. Even then, you have a group of kids who have moderately good judgment in the best of circumstances, sliding to somewhat questionable judgment if there isn't an adult nearby. And then we throw these kids together, all... night... long. Who makes a good decision at 3am? I know for me, that is the time when my thought processes are most scrambled, when logic and common sense have completely abandoned me. Why then would we think it is a good idea for a bunch of seven- and eight-year-olds to have sleep overs!?!
As you might have guessed, Allie went to a slumber party this last weekend. And let me be clear, she didn't even stay the night. We have dealt with Allie's alter ego, Grouchy Girl, before, and we knew that being awake all night long would be a disaster. So we let her stay through the main party and the first (FIRST!) movie. We picked her up at 10:30pm. Now, I knew that Grouchy Girl would rear her ugly head, but here we are three days later, and she is still ornery! You would think that mothers through the generations would have figured out what a bad idea sleep overs are, and have done something to stop them.
For example, I can imagine an Israelite mother, in captivity in Egypt, complaining, "That Miriam! Ach! We let her sleep over at her friend's house, and now she is worthless with putting the straw in the bricks!" Or a mother homesteading in colonial Boston saying, "Goodness, Eliza! You spent the night with Anne, and now the cow won't give milk for all your screaming and pouting." Surely one of these moms could have said, "Enough! No more sleep overs!" Surely at some point some parent somewhere would have realized that the joy of having the kid away for the night can not ever outweigh the pure drama and pouting and angst that follows these disastrous events. If there had been an organized outcry against these, we would know by now how hazardous they can be, and be forewarned to avoid them.
Not being fully aware of the peril of having her go to a sleep over, we succumbed. And now, dealing with Grouchy Girl, I have become the worst kind of parent. As I was trying to get her to do her homework tonight, I threatened everything from no dinner to no driving privileges when she turns 16. I know there are moms who can make life fun and a game, but when Allie comes home from school and glowers at me, then tells me that I don't care that she nearly almost could have choked on that candy (that she wasn't supposed to eat), I get defensive and panic, trying to force her to my will. Then, mid-rant at her, I realize that absolutely nothing is sinking in, so I proclaim, " Never mind. Go to your room. You can come out when you are 21."
Needless to say, there will be no more slumber parties for the Smiths. At least, not until Allie turns 21 and is allowed back out of her room.
As you might have guessed, Allie went to a slumber party this last weekend. And let me be clear, she didn't even stay the night. We have dealt with Allie's alter ego, Grouchy Girl, before, and we knew that being awake all night long would be a disaster. So we let her stay through the main party and the first (FIRST!) movie. We picked her up at 10:30pm. Now, I knew that Grouchy Girl would rear her ugly head, but here we are three days later, and she is still ornery! You would think that mothers through the generations would have figured out what a bad idea sleep overs are, and have done something to stop them.
For example, I can imagine an Israelite mother, in captivity in Egypt, complaining, "That Miriam! Ach! We let her sleep over at her friend's house, and now she is worthless with putting the straw in the bricks!" Or a mother homesteading in colonial Boston saying, "Goodness, Eliza! You spent the night with Anne, and now the cow won't give milk for all your screaming and pouting." Surely one of these moms could have said, "Enough! No more sleep overs!" Surely at some point some parent somewhere would have realized that the joy of having the kid away for the night can not ever outweigh the pure drama and pouting and angst that follows these disastrous events. If there had been an organized outcry against these, we would know by now how hazardous they can be, and be forewarned to avoid them.
Not being fully aware of the peril of having her go to a sleep over, we succumbed. And now, dealing with Grouchy Girl, I have become the worst kind of parent. As I was trying to get her to do her homework tonight, I threatened everything from no dinner to no driving privileges when she turns 16. I know there are moms who can make life fun and a game, but when Allie comes home from school and glowers at me, then tells me that I don't care that she nearly almost could have choked on that candy (that she wasn't supposed to eat), I get defensive and panic, trying to force her to my will. Then, mid-rant at her, I realize that absolutely nothing is sinking in, so I proclaim, " Never mind. Go to your room. You can come out when you are 21."
Needless to say, there will be no more slumber parties for the Smiths. At least, not until Allie turns 21 and is allowed back out of her room.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
*Yawn!*
Hi! So, when I started this blog, I promised my mom that I would post twice a week, and I was really good at that, in the beginning. Since that, recent unexpected developments have come up in my life, mainly that I got pregnant. It was rather unexpected, but very welcome all the same. While in some ways, this pregnancy is outside of normal, in some ways it is exactly what is expected; I am tired all the time, and I have constant low-grade nausea, which sometimes spikes into actually throwing up. So, Mom, I am sorry I haven't posted anything funny that the kids or Alex have done lately. I am sure they are still doing funny things, but I think I have either been sleeping or throwing up when it happened.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Keep On Yelling
Hi folks! It's 9:23pm right now, and I am sitting here on the couch, grading papers. I'm exhausted, (a permanent state of being these days; more explanation to come shortly), and I keep falling asleep and typing a big line of fddddddddddddddddddddd across student papers, depending on what key I had my finger on when I dozed off. This does not make for a good grading session, plus napping with a laptop on my lap is no fun either.
Fortunately, I have this wonderful husband who likes to play video games like Halo. For those who don't know, Halo is a first-person shooter game; this is not a game that I would generally want in my house, but Alex really enjoys it, so fine--just another of those wonderful little compromises to create a happy marriage. Alex likes to play on teams, real guys on his team all sitting in their parents' basements, playing against nerds from all around the country sitting in their parents' basements. (No, no preconceived notions here, no sirree.) But Alex isn't necessarily the most generous or compassionate person when he is frustrated with someone who he thinks could be doing better. He is a fabulous, generous, compassionate man in a myriad of other ways, just not this one. And when he doesn't like what his teammates are doing, because they killed him or drove them off a cliff or keep going in the wrong direction, he isn't shy about letting them know.
Normally, this would drive me bonkers. When we drive on the freeway and he yells at the other cars who aren't driving in a way that makes it easier for him to drive, it does drive me bonkers. But tonight, as I type lines of repeating letters while grading, I am grateful for Alex's "Seriously?!? Anyone could have hit that guy!" or "You moron! Why did you just drive us right into this mess?" I'm grateful, because it's the only thing keeping me awake. So keep on yelling, hon, so I can keep grading papers. Or maybe I'll just go to bed. Good nighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Fortunately, I have this wonderful husband who likes to play video games like Halo. For those who don't know, Halo is a first-person shooter game; this is not a game that I would generally want in my house, but Alex really enjoys it, so fine--just another of those wonderful little compromises to create a happy marriage. Alex likes to play on teams, real guys on his team all sitting in their parents' basements, playing against nerds from all around the country sitting in their parents' basements. (No, no preconceived notions here, no sirree.) But Alex isn't necessarily the most generous or compassionate person when he is frustrated with someone who he thinks could be doing better. He is a fabulous, generous, compassionate man in a myriad of other ways, just not this one. And when he doesn't like what his teammates are doing, because they killed him or drove them off a cliff or keep going in the wrong direction, he isn't shy about letting them know.
Normally, this would drive me bonkers. When we drive on the freeway and he yells at the other cars who aren't driving in a way that makes it easier for him to drive, it does drive me bonkers. But tonight, as I type lines of repeating letters while grading, I am grateful for Alex's "Seriously?!? Anyone could have hit that guy!" or "You moron! Why did you just drive us right into this mess?" I'm grateful, because it's the only thing keeping me awake. So keep on yelling, hon, so I can keep grading papers. Or maybe I'll just go to bed. Good nighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
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