So proud of my kids

WARNING: no movie or book spoilers but "sappiness" factor for this post is higher than normal.

I recently installed a "visitor counter" tool on my site. It doesn't allow me to track who has been here, but it does track "unique" visitors for me. Thus, I have confirmed that my following includes only those I know about, and I can count you on one hand. Which is great with me; I really never intended any of this for wider distribution. But knowing that you are all loved ones reading this gives me a new sense of freedom to put up stuff that only a Mom might care about. So, you are fairly warned for the future.

We went to parent/teacher conferences today. It still strikes me as largely an exercise in futility. The teacher takes 15 mintues to page through some example class work and say that "Your [insert correct name] is such a delight to have in class."

I guess if I were less of a curmudgeon, I could see a few purposes served. For James, whose organizational skills are questionable, it confirms that we actually see a few important school papers. Anything he is charged to bring home is a crap shoot. For Margaret, we did get to see some semi-formal testing, such as letter and number recognition, letter sounds, and word reading. These were all compared to earlier tests, so we could see progress. Nice to have it formalized, though I could already tell on my own that her reading is improving.

Overall, though, it does bring to me new empathy for my parents. I recall that when I was a kid, I would wait with bated breath for their return from conferences, at which point I would beg them to tell me everything my teacher said. Their answers were always fairly uninteresting:

"She said you are doing well in reading."
"Your teacher enjoys having you in class."
"Everything is fine."

Seriously? That is all you can report, Mom and Dad? I of course took this to mean something sinister. What were they not reporting? They were in the room longer than that. And what would I have to do to win the attention and accolades I surely felt I deserved?

And so now I sit in the room, and find myself telling my kids as they clamor for information:

"Your teacher says you are getting to be a really good reader, Margaret."
"Your teacher says everything is going fine, James."

And my kids respond in disbelief. They know I was in there for 15 minutes. Come on, what did she really say?"

So, I have been thinking harder about specific reports. This blog is, after all, largely a journal for my kids to enjoy someday (or not enjoy). And although there really isn't much specific that was said, I did glean some important info, if I think hard about it.

Margaret:

• Margaret is a "good student." She gets the game of school. She can find the rules or instructions, follow them, and get the task done with little instruction.
• Margaret tells stories with expression and enthusiasm that her teacher really enjoys. Her teacher said she hopes Maggie will keep that same joy and expressivity as she learns to read and she will be a wonderful out-loud reader.
• Margaret has several girls she would consider her closest friends (Gracie, Nikki, and Sara) but hangs out at recess with most of the girls in the class, in one large group (which plays Ice Wars, the Ada Christian commodity game that is beyond adult comprehension).
• Margaret is responsible and trustworthy. Her teacher felt that she is one who could be counted on to take another child down to the office for help, for instance.

So, while these at face value seemed liked the generic "nice kid" platitudes, I see that these fit with who I see Maggie becoming, and I am proud of who she is.

James:

• James seems to love science. He handles difficult vocabulary and concepts apparently with ease, and almost always gets 100% on tests.
• James is not so fond of math, which at this point means to him rote memorization of facts (addition/subtraction, and now multiplication). But his teacher seems very tolerant, and in fact sympathetic, to his dislike of drill. She hopes he will enjoy more the problem solving unit that comes up at the end of the school year.
• James seems to be having a better time socially. (We have felt this to be true, also, based on his home behavior and comments.) His teacher pointed out that James has become very popular as the go-to guy in computers, because the students have started playing Poptropica, and James is the expert on the game. (There, some unintended value from not owning a Wii or Playstation! James's mind-numbing screen time has instead been free to develop expertise in an obscure on-line game available in the school computer lab.)
• James thinks deeply and seriously about issues of faith. His teacher shared two of his independent writing assignments from the year. I kept his spellings because I enjoyed the authenticity they bring to these.

James's Faith Statement (written following a study of the story of Joseph)

I believe that God has a plan for me, just like he had a plan for Joseph. I believe that God's hand is guiding my life. I believe He is in control. I believe He has many more great plans for my life. I believe that he is the creater.

James's Prayer of Thanksgiving (written in November)

Dear Lord, We give you thanks for what we have, not wishing four what we do not have, but being thankful four what we have. Four as your sirvant David said, Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in teh way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. Forgive us four our sins O Lord. And gant [grant] us blessings for the year to come. Four thine is the kingdome, and the power and the glory four ever and ever, Amen.

So, in retrospect, in just 15 minutes I gained a great picture of my son's life at school. He is thoughtful, deliberate, likes to be right or not do it at all. He doesn't care for or about rote drills (spelling, math facts) but seems to have a photographic memory for facts and information that interest him. His earnestness and concern with following the rules may cause him some trouble right now, socially, but are part of his development as a moral, deep-thinking person who wants to know what is right and do it, and expects everyone else to do the same. ( I guess the concept of Original Sin is what we should work on next in our family time.) I am very proud of James.

Long live the journalists

http://www.woodtv.com/dpp/eightwest/Learn_to_swim_in_February

John stayed after his swimming lesson last week to splash in the pool for a while. As a result, he earned his 15, er... 3, seconds of fame. He seemed unimpressed. If you want to find him, look around 35 seconds for the lime green shirt.

I am more intrigued by the fact that this passed for a news story on our local TV station. Now I know why I don't bother to watch TV news. I tried once or twice in the past year and was overcome with the onslaught of commercials, which seem to occupy more time than the news show. This points out to me that the news itself is really just a series of advertisements, too. Ah, so glad we have a strong journalistic tradition in our country - it really makes our democracy strong.

Having parents lead to psychotherapy requirements

I usually stop by the kids' beds to re-tuck them in on my way to bed. Tonight, I found John on the floor right by his door. He had been sent back to bed uncountable times. Apparently, he really just wanted to get closer to Mom before he fell asleep. I guess he finally compromised. He dragged his pillow and blanket over by the door, but just out of sight around the corner from the parental view from the kitchen. He didn't want to be caught out of bed and sent back again. This will clearly be an example when he is an adult of how his parents caused him untold mental anguish resulting in years of psychotherapy.

Speaking of parent-caused mental anguish...

James was completely uncovered, but with the blankets twisted all around his feet. I attempted to gently extricate him. As I was pulling up the covers over him, he stirred a bit, then woke up enough to tell me, "Mom, I don't really like it when you do that. It makes me have bad dreams."

"Hmm?" I softly queried, wondering if he was even awake.

"When you move my covers, it makes me have nightmares. The zombies were chasing me."

I suppose I don't really have any way to prove that tucking him in doesn't bring the zombies. Poor guy.

Follow up from a few days later:
He must be in a dream-frenzied state lately. Jeremy picked him up out of bed to wake him for school a day or two later and he complained drowsily, "Dad! You made me drop by groceries!"

Development of toddler gender identification

John, more than the first two kids, has kept me entertained as he pursues the "Who am I?" questions of the toddler world.

He loves to parade about the house in my high heels, draped in Maggie's fancy beads and bling. He likes to play baby dolls with Maggie on occasion. But he also likes to run full-tilt through the house shouting, "Bang, bang, I shoot you! You are dead!" He also likes to beat things to a pulp with a hammer. (No, we don't give him real hammers. The toy ones - wood or plastic - seem capable of enough damage. There are holes or gouges in most of the house and its furniture now.)

Today, as I picked him up to put him on the changing table, I remarked on how big he is getting (heavy to lift, for sure!). He stretched out as long as he could, and proudly said, "I am getting big like a Daddy!" But other days, he is not so sure about this. We have had some conversations more like:

"James will grow up like a Daddy?" (Yes, John, someday.)
"Maggie will grow up like a Mommy?" (Yes, John, someday.)
"John will grow up like a Mommy?" (No, John will grow up like a Daddy.)
"I want to be a MOMMY!"

On these days, no amount of arguing will convince him otherwise, so I no longer even try. I just tell him, "Well, we will have to wait and see." I suppose I don't necessarily even know what he means with his questions - I of course assume looking like a man or a woman, but who knows what his toddler brain associates with these terms. Maybe on the day he is asking, he means, "I want to grow up like a Mommy who drives me to my swimming lessons, not like a Daddy who makes me go to bed."

Just playing games

James has become an almost obsessive game player. He is always asking to play board games now. Unfortunatley, he no longer has any interest in the games that Maggie might be able to play with him, like CandyLand or Guess Who. So, at bedtime, he has a routine of asking about "The Plans," which means a recounting of the family calendar for the upcoming week. Frequently, he follows this with a plaintive request: "When can we play a game?"

All too often, my answer must be, "I'm not sure when, sweetheart. It is difficult to play any of the longer games you like. In the evening, there isn't time to finish a game before bedtime. Earlier in the day, John is around and won't self-entertain for the duration of a 2-3 hour game."

"Well, then, how will I ever be able to play games?" comes the self-piteous moan.

"Well, do you have any friends who like to play games?" No, he doesn't think so. Yeah, unfortunately, he is probably right.

"What about your cousin, Lydia?" This led to a whole new line of questioning. James discovered that Lydia was in fact willing to play Monopoly, and Settlers, and thus might even be a good prospect for other new passions like Carcassonne. So now, every night, I simply hear, "When can Lydia come to visit again? I mean, not just for a short time, but at least for a whole day?" (In other words, for enough time that they can shut the door to his bedroom, locking out all the younger kids while they play games for hours on end.) Since Lydia lives 3 hours away, and her father is a pastor so she can't typically stay over a Saturday night, the answer is usually, "I don't know when."

So, James's favorite treat in the whole world is on a Friday night when Dad will pull out Carcassonne or Settlers, just as John is getting ready for bed. It makes James a bear for days to stay up so late, but he so loves it, it is almost worth it.

It really struck me this weekend, however, that James doesn't just like games. He has a compulsive need to play them. The kids came home from a birthday party with bags of pinata candy (oh joy). Maggie opened her package of skittles and James said with excitement, "Look, you have almost all fire!"

"What?" I inquired.

"Oh, it's a game," James said nonchalantly.

I sat a moment to watch. James at some prior candy holiday (and of course those have become too numerous to count) had invented a game that resembled a hybrid of the card game War and the classic Rock/Paper/Scissors. He assigned candy colors to the elements (fire, earth, air, water) and each one had a priority of what it beat and what defeated it. The kids sat at the table for over half an hour duking it out with their candy. Apparently, James has been filling in the long dry gaming spells with inventing games that he can stand to play and that Maggie is able to play.