For those of you who were not aware, this past school year I have been homeschooling Jaden. Really, I have been cyber-schooling him. Either way...not for me. Not at all.
Take Algebra for instance.
In college I majored in journalism. This is not because I enjoyed writing, or really even reading for that matter. I didn't want to work for a paper. It wasn't even because a cute boy was a journalism major. At least THAT would have been understandable. I chose journalism because after scouring the course book, it was the ONLY major at Michigan State that did not have a math requirement. And, that was good, because I had already failed algebra. Twice.
So, when Jaden started having trouble finding the area and volume of three dimensional figures, I was panicked. But, surely, college was like what? 5 years ago. (Okay! Fine, fine almost 20, whatever) I am a mature, capable woman. I can learn about and then teach Jaden how to find the area and volume of three dimensional figures. Right?
WRONG!
Jaden and I worked on a portfolio project. I was sure we were going to ace it. And, then the grade came back: D. I was quite offended. I almost called the teacher to demand an explanation. Apparently, not much has changed since college. Well, I mean except for the extra weight...and the wrinkles...and the gray hairs...and the not being able to go out until 2am and get up at 9:00 for work or classes. I still can't get above a D in algebra. Darn you, algebra!
At any rate, I have now appointed Jonathan as Jaden's learning coach. He can figure out the area and volume of three dimensional figures in like pi*.04=x seconds.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Saturday, April 09, 2011
Talk about depressing...
Today I did something that made me very sad. I'll give you three guesses what it was.
No...no. It wasn't trying to pluck all of the gray hairs out of my head even though I just died it last week.
Nopers. It was not trying on swim suits. Really good guess, though.
No. It defintely was not listening to Dream On. Although, please, I never knew that song was so depressing. 'Everytime when I look in the mirror, all these lines on my face getting clearer'. It's a real pick-me-up.
Ok. I'll tell you.
I took lunch to Jonathan while he was reffing U8 soccer games. {{{SIGH}}}. I can barely speak about it.
Used to be every Saturday, I would pack the ole sports chairs, blankets, water bottles, siblings, orange slices, sports drinks, and snacks for after the games to go catch me some soccer. Used to be every Saturday I would sit in a sports chair, cheer on my soccer player, laugh with other soccer moms and dads and get frustrated with the teenaged ref who looked like he didn't get too much sleep the night before. (Where were his parents, BTW). Used to be I could walk through the soccer complex and know just about everyone there.
Used to be. The past is gone.
It's been 5 years since Jonathan played U8 soccer. Now I am the mom of the teenage ref who didn't get enough sleep the night before. Now I walk through the soccer complex and I don't know anyone. 5 years . Gone in a flash. I know it's a tired cliche. But, time goes by fast. And, today, well, it caught me off guard.
Especially because I got to thinking...you know what I will be doing 5 years from now? I'll be buying prom attire, and paying registration fees for college, and planning a graduation party for the triplets. 5 years. They'll be gone in a flash.
I want to make sure I have no regrets.
BTW, 5 years gives me some perspective too. So, moms and dads of the U8 soccer players...don't take it so seriously. I know you think you might have the next Mia Hamm or David Beckham. But, I sure wish I had spent less time worrying about Jonathan's playing time, positions, and coaches and more time just plain old cheering him on.
Oh, and one more thing. That tired teenaged ref?? Yeah, the one who had a sleepover last night and was too tired to blow his whistle for the hand ball in the goalie box that should have been a penalty kick? Give him a break too. Because before you can even imagine it could be possible, it'll be your kid. And, you'll be the parent standing awkwardly with the McDonald's bag in your hand.
No...no. It wasn't trying to pluck all of the gray hairs out of my head even though I just died it last week.
Nopers. It was not trying on swim suits. Really good guess, though.
No. It defintely was not listening to Dream On. Although, please, I never knew that song was so depressing. 'Everytime when I look in the mirror, all these lines on my face getting clearer'. It's a real pick-me-up.
Ok. I'll tell you.
I took lunch to Jonathan while he was reffing U8 soccer games. {{{SIGH}}}. I can barely speak about it.
Used to be every Saturday, I would pack the ole sports chairs, blankets, water bottles, siblings, orange slices, sports drinks, and snacks for after the games to go catch me some soccer. Used to be every Saturday I would sit in a sports chair, cheer on my soccer player, laugh with other soccer moms and dads and get frustrated with the teenaged ref who looked like he didn't get too much sleep the night before. (Where were his parents, BTW). Used to be I could walk through the soccer complex and know just about everyone there.
Used to be. The past is gone.
It's been 5 years since Jonathan played U8 soccer. Now I am the mom of the teenage ref who didn't get enough sleep the night before. Now I walk through the soccer complex and I don't know anyone. 5 years . Gone in a flash. I know it's a tired cliche. But, time goes by fast. And, today, well, it caught me off guard.
Especially because I got to thinking...you know what I will be doing 5 years from now? I'll be buying prom attire, and paying registration fees for college, and planning a graduation party for the triplets. 5 years. They'll be gone in a flash.
I want to make sure I have no regrets.
BTW, 5 years gives me some perspective too. So, moms and dads of the U8 soccer players...don't take it so seriously. I know you think you might have the next Mia Hamm or David Beckham. But, I sure wish I had spent less time worrying about Jonathan's playing time, positions, and coaches and more time just plain old cheering him on.
Oh, and one more thing. That tired teenaged ref?? Yeah, the one who had a sleepover last night and was too tired to blow his whistle for the hand ball in the goalie box that should have been a penalty kick? Give him a break too. Because before you can even imagine it could be possible, it'll be your kid. And, you'll be the parent standing awkwardly with the McDonald's bag in your hand.
Thursday, April 07, 2011
Wonder of Wonders...It's Maturation Day!
WARNING: THIS BLOG POST HAS BEEN GIVEN A PG-13 RATING.
BACKGROUND INFORMATION: In my state, children in public school get to take a 2 part sex-ed class in the 5th grade. Part One is the Maturation class, where they get to watch weird videos about puberty and body changes. Part Two, entitled "Wonder of Wonders" or "WOW", for short, talks about sexual reproduction. And, yes. It's really called WOW!
MORE BACKGROUND INFORMATION: Here in Kiddyland, we feel its important for our children to attend these classes, but we also feel its important that we have "THE TALK" before they hear it at school. The parents of Kiddyland will be the ones who drive these conversations, thank you very much.
So, last week I received a letter that Ryan's sex ed classes were going to begin this week. I sent Rob an email that said something along the lines of "You've got 5 days, sucker!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAA!". Because don't most modern, happy marriages communicate almost exclusively through email. They do, right?
Sunday night, Rob came home from a meeting and told Ryan to get dressed, they were heading to Sarris'. Which frankly, I thought was a brilliant choice for two reasons. 1) Sex is awkward, and let's face it when something is awkward, it's good to have ice cream on hand. It's sort of my life motto. 2) Sarris is expensive. I am pretty sure Ryan will never think of Sarris in quite the same way again. Ryan: "Mom, can we go to Sarris? (has mental flashback of last time there...) Nevermind!" A genius money saving idea!
Rob and I both read all of the books on how to present this, er, topic to kids and they really all sort of creeped us out. So, we just choose to spit it out. Just spit.it.all.out. I didn't heaar how Ryan replied, they got home late. And, I'm pretty sure he was a little more "in the know" than the older kids at that age. It just happens with younger siblings. I'm glad we have the classes at school for followup because I am sure out of embarassment and , well, pure horror, Ryan checked out at some point and didn't catch everything. The classes will fill in some holes.
As for Rob, all I know is he came home and said: "hahahaha. I'm all done and you have one more!!". Because all modern, happy marriages include enjoying the other person's awkward moments. They do, right?
BACKGROUND INFORMATION: In my state, children in public school get to take a 2 part sex-ed class in the 5th grade. Part One is the Maturation class, where they get to watch weird videos about puberty and body changes. Part Two, entitled "Wonder of Wonders" or "WOW", for short, talks about sexual reproduction. And, yes. It's really called WOW!
MORE BACKGROUND INFORMATION: Here in Kiddyland, we feel its important for our children to attend these classes, but we also feel its important that we have "THE TALK" before they hear it at school. The parents of Kiddyland will be the ones who drive these conversations, thank you very much.
So, last week I received a letter that Ryan's sex ed classes were going to begin this week. I sent Rob an email that said something along the lines of "You've got 5 days, sucker!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAA!". Because don't most modern, happy marriages communicate almost exclusively through email. They do, right?
Sunday night, Rob came home from a meeting and told Ryan to get dressed, they were heading to Sarris'. Which frankly, I thought was a brilliant choice for two reasons. 1) Sex is awkward, and let's face it when something is awkward, it's good to have ice cream on hand. It's sort of my life motto. 2) Sarris is expensive. I am pretty sure Ryan will never think of Sarris in quite the same way again. Ryan: "Mom, can we go to Sarris? (has mental flashback of last time there...) Nevermind!" A genius money saving idea!
Rob and I both read all of the books on how to present this, er, topic to kids and they really all sort of creeped us out. So, we just choose to spit it out. Just spit.it.all.out. I didn't heaar how Ryan replied, they got home late. And, I'm pretty sure he was a little more "in the know" than the older kids at that age. It just happens with younger siblings. I'm glad we have the classes at school for followup because I am sure out of embarassment and , well, pure horror, Ryan checked out at some point and didn't catch everything. The classes will fill in some holes.
As for Rob, all I know is he came home and said: "hahahaha. I'm all done and you have one more!!". Because all modern, happy marriages include enjoying the other person's awkward moments. They do, right?
Friday, April 01, 2011
Don't Hate Me Because I am Beautiful
Hayleigh loves to dress up. I love to oblige her. So, I spotted just the cutest.outfit.ever. at Crazy 8 and since I had a coupon (Did you hear that honey? I had a couponn!) I went for it. It was a cute little yellow sweater, a little denim skirt, the world's cutest tights with yellow suns on it, black patent leathers and a matching bow.
Hayleigh couldn't wait to show off her new duds at "school" aka daycare.
(I'll pause to wait for all of the gasps to subside at the mention of the "d" word)
Moving on...
She walked into daycare and all of her little girlfriends ran up to her saying "Hayleigh I love your clothes", "Hayleigh you look so cute." "Hayleigh your shirt is so cute". I can see that Hayleigh is getting upset. So upset in fact, that she had moved her hand to her hip and was stomping her foot. One little girl ran up to give her a hug and said "Hayleigh you are so cute". For reasons I could not understand at the time, Hayleigh pulled away, stomped her foot and yelled "I am not cute!" Then she ran over to me and buried my head in to my leg.
I wasn't sure what was happening so I bent down and asked her, "Hayleigh what's wrong?"
"I'm not cute, mommy, I beautial!"
For a split second all I could think was how sad her life is going to be if she gets upset about compliments that aren't quite up to her standards. Or, how tough life is going to be if she goes around demanding that girls call her beautiful. But, I figure, three is a little young for me to sit her down and explain in great depth the intracies of girl politics. Plenty of time for those sorts of talks.
So, instead I looked her square in the eye, smoothes her hair, and said, "Yep, Baby, you're beautial". To which came the quick reply:
"Yes. But I not a baby!"
Hayleigh couldn't wait to show off her new duds at "school" aka daycare.
(I'll pause to wait for all of the gasps to subside at the mention of the "d" word)
Moving on...
She walked into daycare and all of her little girlfriends ran up to her saying "Hayleigh I love your clothes", "Hayleigh you look so cute." "Hayleigh your shirt is so cute". I can see that Hayleigh is getting upset. So upset in fact, that she had moved her hand to her hip and was stomping her foot. One little girl ran up to give her a hug and said "Hayleigh you are so cute". For reasons I could not understand at the time, Hayleigh pulled away, stomped her foot and yelled "I am not cute!" Then she ran over to me and buried my head in to my leg.
I wasn't sure what was happening so I bent down and asked her, "Hayleigh what's wrong?"
"I'm not cute, mommy, I beautial!"
For a split second all I could think was how sad her life is going to be if she gets upset about compliments that aren't quite up to her standards. Or, how tough life is going to be if she goes around demanding that girls call her beautiful. But, I figure, three is a little young for me to sit her down and explain in great depth the intracies of girl politics. Plenty of time for those sorts of talks.
So, instead I looked her square in the eye, smoothes her hair, and said, "Yep, Baby, you're beautial". To which came the quick reply:
"Yes. But I not a baby!"
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