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April 30, 2008

readiness

Over the last couple of weeks, the boys had their early childhood screenings with our local public school system. Our district screens every child before kindergarten, and prefers to do the screenings as soon after the 3rd birthday as possible. It was one of those things that are kind of interesting to watch with twins, as they each made their way separately through an identical process. O was very excited about the whole thing, and thought it was great fun. He hardly looked back as the teacher took him down the hall without me to be weighed, measured, and tested, though he was a little clingy afterward. His developmental assessment score was excellent, and his hearing and vision both very good. He’s slightly nearsighted, but many kids are at this age. He’s near the top of the charts for height. The evaluator clearly hit it off with him, and told me a bit about how the evaluation went. He answered most questions quickly and easily, but he sometimes had his own ideas about what he’d like to be doing. One test he refused outright within the allowed time, as he proceeded to tell the evaluator all about something related to the zoo, and then he asked for a book. He was, however, very polite and calm other than that, and sat in his chair the whole time (not a strength of his in general). He did very well in patterns and analogies, and knew his colors well. He does have a minor articulation issue with his speech, but doesn’t quite qualify for speech therapy at this point – we were given some information to help him work on that. He speaks freely and has good grammar and a huge vocabulary, but he isn’t always very easy to understand if you don’t know him.

A week later, I took N in for the same evaluation. N has typically had a much more difficult time separating from his parents, so predictably, he was a bit nervous. In the waiting area, he kept telling me, “I will be sad when I go, Mama”. He had his bunny with him, and was doing that fretful thing that he does where he rubs his bunny with one finger and chews on his lower lip. But then – the teacher came out, and off he went with no trouble at all. Forty minutes later, he came back smiling. As we were walking back with the teacher, she said, “I had such a nice time with N – it was a really great ending to my day. He is so sweet and interesting, he just charmed the pants off me today!” His developmental assessment score was also excellent, and his hearing and vision both very good (his vision is actually 20/20 in both eyes – how, with his genes, that’s happening is beyond me, because literally every family member on both sides of the family needs glasses or contacts). He’s near the very top of the charts for height, an inch-and-a-half taller than O and four pounds lighter. When we went over his assessment, he actually got the exact same score as his brother. What was interesting is that they arrived at that same score through completely different strengths. N did very well at counting, answering “why” questions accurately, naming things, giving her the correct amount of blocks when asked, etc. She related something kind of funny to me: when she asked him where his eyes are, he blinked dramatically with a huge grin on his face, but she had to give him “zero”, because he didn’t point to them. His blinky faces have been cracking us up for a while now, actually. Then, in the second part of the test, she asked him why he has eyes. Again, he scored zero points because he didn’t answer in the way the test requires. His answer? Because God gave them to me.

The teacher then told me that I have remarkably calm and focused three-year olds – things which, while very nice for a parent to hear, were admittedly a little surprising too. It’s not that I thought they were holy terrors or anything, but our boys are pretty wiggly little guys. They’ve not exactly been the calmest, most compliant kids in their Early Childhood class, and they get pretty darn keyed up sometimes at home. Sitting still in their seats has not always been particularly easy for them compared to what I see of their peers (though I have lots of friends with girls, for some reason), and judging by last night’s dinner, still isn’t.

But even though I believe that the test they use is at best an imperfect tool, the screening did give me some insight into some things. First, the screeners have the right idea by getting the parents to wait behind. Clearly, they can get more cooperation out of a lot of kids without any power struggles nearby. Parents are usually their kids best teachers, especially at three, but kids will likely also cooperate and behave better for a stranger than a parent, especially during the limit-testing years. Second, I’ve been noticing for at least a year and a half (since the boys were about 18 months old) that they usually behave much better apart than together. The screening was a good example of that. They may grow out of that tendency, but if it still holds a year or two from now, we’ll definitely separate them for kindergarten for that reason alone. They also clearly have very different strengths, and I don’t want them to be compared all the time in such a fishbowl either.

I used to be more concerned about how school would go for N and O. I was a little worried that our boys would be up against the disadvantage that boys often have in the early grades (the disadvantages for girls often coming in the middle-and-high-school years) – being energetic and having more trouble sitting still and with fine motor skills than girls in general at the same age. N also doesn’t transition easily when he’s really focused on something. I’m not really concerned anymore, though –I think that even though they’re high-energy with strong wills, they do, and will do just fine. Even two months ago, sitting in church for the first part of the service and then going up for the children’s sermon was challenging for them both, and now they do just great as long as I take them one at a time (I alternate weeks). By age five, when they can’t go into the nursery anymore, they’ll probably do OK just looking at books or drawing. I think this will be an interesting year at home with O, because he’s much more interested in out-and-out limit-testing and drama than N is (I suspect that age three will be easier with N than age two was, but who knows), but I think preschool, if we ever get in, will be fine. I’m still not ready to describe them as “remarkably calm”, but I’m learning to have more faith that they’ll eventually grow out of their less desirable, age-appropriate tendencies while showing us more and more of the wonderful things that make them who they are.

For O, we see some of that in his “favorite book”.

 

He likes to look at the diagrams of how houses or toilets are put together, and where all the pipes go. He’s much less destructive than he was a few months ago, and now that he can ask complex questions, he can better meet his insatiable appetite for classifying everything and figuring out how things work in new ways.

His brain is indeed full of analogies – this is like that, but not quite like that. I think we should have named him Linnaeus. He's sweet and affectionate in between dramatic outburst and shows of will.


N is becoming more confident and secure, and he’s full of smiles and life. He counts everything, is starting to sound out letters and show interest in which words on the page correspond with the spoken word, and loves to rhyme, sing, and tap out rhythms. He is obsessed with books and language, and one of the best ways we have hit upon to get him to be a little more flexible in general is to let him (within reason) read his books at his leisure at bedtime. Sometimes he spends an hour sitting in his bed in a crack of daylight from the window, poring over a book about boats, or insects, or anything by Richard Scarry. He seems to get through the day a little better for having had that uninterrupted time to make sense of things for himself – a quality to which I can highly relate!

April 28, 2008

follow your instincts (or maybe not...)

This post really spoke to me this week. Nothing like parenting little kids to bring your “issues” to the forefront, is there? Linda illustrated so clearly why it is that the phrase “just follow your instincts” upsets and frustrates me so much. When you've been exposed to a lot of anger, manipulation, and inconsistency in your own upbringing, your ability to trust your "instincts" in relationships is often kind of broken. I just haven’t had that modeling, that foundation of trust and support that would be needed to trust my gut when the going gets hard. I get flustered and angry, and can’t think straight when my kids act up. I feel ashamed of their age-appropriate behavior. If people like me want to be effective parents and not lose our cool or expect too much, we need something more than “instincts”. To that end, I like the very same parenting books that Linda does – books that give me the real, practical tools to use and the words to say, not just the philosophy. Read Linda’s post to get a better idea of what I’m talking about. I think I’m going to make J read it so he might better be able to understand what the heck my problem is sometimes.

OK, are you done? Now I’m going to cover some of the good stuff about being aware of your own painful upbringing. They do exist, hard won as they may be.

  • I have one hell of a BS detector. A less-than-ideal upbringing leads to a lot of painful self-reflection for a lot of us, and this has its benefits. If I do say so myself, one of those benefits is being able to see through other people’s self-delusion, and I’m a good judge of character.
  • I am that much more aware that “instincts” are biased for everyone. Sure, I’d rather they were biased by good modeling and consistency, but what we call “instincts” are, for all of us, based at least some on a combination of our experiences and our perceptions of our experiences. If you had empathetic, consistent discipline modeled to you as a child, your “instincts” might (depending at least a little on your temperament) lead you to favor treating your own children that way, which is, of course, a good thing. Where that gets tricky is thinking that the familiar feeling of just doing “what just feels right” will always serve you. It won’t, or t least, it won’t always serve those around you fairly. We live in a racist, homophobic, sexist, xenophobic, different-phobic, materialistic society, and those biases are fed to us every day in various doses and forms. If you rightfully trust your “instincts” in some areas of your life, you may well come to the conclusion that trusting your    “instincts” is always a good thing, and it isn’t. Yet I see “instincts” held up as the gold standard for decision-making everywhere I go, especially among mothers, especially when it comes to reasons to be afraid. I’d personally say that “instincts” aren’t worth a lot in the absence of examining one’s biases unless, perhaps, we are in immediate potential danger and don’t have that option. (I’ve written about this before.)
  • I am proactive. Not entirely trusting my ability to be consistent and fair in the heat of the moment means that I have to do a bit of experimentation and research to do OK about my choices, and while that takes time (and books are no substitute for experience), that research is still worth a lot. I do know what’s reasonable to expect of a three-year-old, because I rely on people smarter and more experienced than myself to write clearly about that. I proactively seek support from other parents in Early Childhood classes and other forums. I am painfully aware that unless I have a well-researched, well-stocked toolbox for dealing with the tough times, I’m up the creek. I have an intense desire to have things be different for my kids, and while that can have its own blinders, I think that my decision to be intentional about the way I raise them does them a lot of good. That feels especially true in our (U.S.) culture, a culture that is often mired in disconnection and materialism. Sometimes I overthink, but at least I always think.
  • The idea that I have to be like my parents whether I really want to or not went out the window, oh, decades ago. I still struggle with their expectations, but I don’t think I struggle with them as much as do peers who idealize their parents or upbringing yet still feel called to make very different choices. In retrospect, I have enjoyed a certain freedom in making my own life choices and forging my own philosophy of life without feeling like I needed to justify why they are different from how I was raised. I was raised mostly in upper-middle-class suburbs, and by temperament alone, I think I would have been miserable aspiring to live in such a setting, not to mention working the kind of job I’d probably need to have to pay for it.

No-one can ever tease out upbringing from temperament perfectly. All backgrounds have their disadvantages, though, and most, including mine, also have their advantages in helping us become well-rounded, resilient people and parents.

That said, I still struggle a lot with anger and fear. There are days when I feel like I can either be a good wife or a good mother, but not really both. I get crabby and unreasonable, and then I feel awful. Money is very tight at our house right now, and this feeds into a fear that feels almost primal in its intensity at times, but since money is so hard for people to talk about, it feels lonely even in this economy. On some fundamental level, I don’t trust easily or deeply enough to get through tough times without losing some perspective.  When someone says, “things will work out”, I think, “yeah but for millions of people every day, they don’t”. When someone says they’ll be there or help with something, a small part of me says, “I’ll believe it when I see it”. When someone tells me I have good instincts, I think “Yeah, right, if you only knew!” When someone tells me to trust my instincts, I am amazed at the confidence of the person making such a suggestion to me, and not just a little irritated. I wish I had that privilege, but I do not. 

But I’m working on it, and we're all a work in progress.

(Now that I’ve covered my issues with the word “instincts”, I’ll have to get around to describing my issues with the word “natural”. Hint: context is everything, or at least, it's rarely irrelevant. For a primer on that, see this.)

 

 

April 19, 2008

hmmmmmm..

How Long Could You Survive Trapped In Your Own Home?
Created by OnePlusYou

In case I ever entirely lose it and decide I need a really long break from other people, I'd do OK for quite a while, apparently. Good to know....

I was initially a little mortified that they included "pets as an emergency food source, but then, considering how my SIL, the boys, and I spent the morning, that would make me quite a hypocrite, now wouldn't it?

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For the backstory on this soup, go here.

How long would you last?

April 18, 2008

tiny farm

Why is it that there are about 2 minutes between waiting, waiting, waiting anxiously for a bit of sun, for warm breezes, and swelling of buds, and then everything in the garden needing my attention at once? Not that I’m complaining.

 Last week: yet another snowstorm, several frosty nights, boots and winter coats, trudging through slush and scraping ice from the windshield. This week: butterflies, Creeping Charlie, shorts and sunhats on preschoolers, and worms in the beaks of hens at my feet.

The compost pile needs turning, the garden and kitchen beds need dressing with compost, seedlings need tending and thinning and dividing and hardening off. The garden bed mulch is uncovered, and I’ve already started watering for the season, as the ground is surprisingly dry. It is busy, but it is a wonderful kind of busy, the kind that leaves one bodily tired at night, satisfied from an hour here and there of satisfied puttering. I make my rounds, digging, tending, turning, the clapclapclap of the neighbor kids’ basketball a steady familiar rhythm, the boys and I getting lungs full of musty, gorgeous earthen decay, insistent birdsongs all around us, my whole body leaning finally into a shovel with a couple of willing apprentices by my side.



And willing they are. I am so cautiously grateful for that, as I’m concerned about their someday rejecting the very thing I love so much. I know that a lot of children of gardening enthusiasts grow up to hate the chores and the weeding and the perceived drudgery of helping out with yard work, and I don’t want that to happen. I want it to be joyful, and right now, it really is. If they prefer to play with their trucks and balls instead of helping me dress beds, that’s fine, but at least right now, they love to help with any of it and they also love to talk about it – about vegetables and bugs, and birds. Today, O said, “We have a tiny farm!” This past week, they’ve watered, composted, sifted compost, dressed the raised beds with compost, helped clean out the chicken run and henhouse, and actually accomplished a significant amount of mulching in between rolling off the mulch pile. My only tax has been spending some extra time washing the dirt from behind their ears and washing the stains out of the knees of their pants—a small price indeed. The best part of all is seeing them feel needed, and competent.

 After a three-year hiatus from seed-starting, I’ve pulled out the lights and seed trays and gotten starts going again this year, using mostly past seasons’ seeds. Almost everything germinated well, even the seed that were 5 years old, and the seedlings are looking beautiful. The air in our bedroom is slightly spicy and fecund as I wake to the timer switching on the lights at 7:30 AM, and several times a day, I peek to see what is happening. Aside from keeping on top of what needs dividing, the thinning is by far the hardest part.

I’ve read that the Scotts have a tradition of exchanging the task of thinning rows with a neighbor, because who, in the first days of Spring verily bursting forth after months of waiting, can stand taking a sharp pair of shears and felling half of one’s very own perfectly healthy cotyledons? Brutal.

I haven’t, with all that, had much energy or time for writing, though my head is full, full of words and sentences, internal meter and prose that comes unbidden and isn’t satisfied with ten minutes here and there to jot down a few notes. I am trying to be at peace with this, to remember that I can’t have everything all at once. I keep thinking of all the tiny seed packets that have spent years in the dark damp of my basement, committing respiration, yet dormant, ready and waiting for a chance at fulfillment through the proper proportions of light, and water, and nutrition. My head is full of seeds, large and small, and breathing, dormant, waiting.


April 12, 2008

In between snowstorms:

We go to the park and avoid the dirty snow and giant puddles:

we complain a little

but we make ourselves feel better by trying on last year's sun hat and this year's sandals:

We go on boat rides in the living room. "Watch out for the water, Mama! It's getting higher and higher!

We study for our upcoming trip to Holland:

We grab two bowls from the drawer and two chairs and have "cake" with our blocks.

Mama has her own diversions, some of which involve vegetable seeds, seed-starting spreadsheets and stacks of gardening books from the library::

We join some members of our church (and hundreds of other people from area churches) on the  bridge to ask and pray for peace in Iraq after five years of war.

We get our picture taken with the mayor of Min*eapolis while we are there:

And O falls asleep in the afternoon for the first time in about a week:

On the rare days that are warm and not full of rain and snow, we have picnics by the Mis*sissippi River bluffs :

"Look, Mama! What is that? It's green!"

We put on the snowman sweaters one more time and try Daddy's shoes on for size:


April 05, 2008

expectations

The boys and I went to the zoo today to see the baby animals. On a beautiful spring day, on the last weekend of the baby animals exhibit. It was lovely – the boys were good, the animals were sweet and accessible, and while it was very busy, as anyone would expect, it was much worse 2 hours later when we left than it was when we actually went through the exhibit.   

 

 

It was lovely except for the behavior we witnessed. The loud complaining and moaning about waiting in line. The whining about how long it took to see the baby chicks.  The bumping other people without saying “excuse me”. The attitude. The bad language. The yelling.

 

 

 

I wish I was talking about the kids. No, the kids were almost universally fine – the appalling behavior that put a serious chink in my own enjoyment of the morning and that my children noticed enough to comment upon more than once came from the parents.

“This is a nightmare – why did we come here on the last weekend?”

“Next time, I pick where we go, and it sure aint here!”

“The next wagon doesn’t come for 20 minutes! What a rip-off.”

“I hate this. We should have gone to a movie.” 

“If we go through the door where everybody is going out, we can get to the chicks without having to wait!”

“We have to GO! The dolphins are at eleven and our Imax tickets are at noon! Hurry UP!”

“Just butt your way through, Madison! Tell that kid to move over!”

“Parker, get your damn butt over here and give me your coat!”

 

Parker, incidentally, looked utterly miserable, and was wearing baggy desert-storm camo pants and a t-shirt that said, “Backin’ down aint even an option!” Does that refer to his parents (who presumably bought him the shirt) or the war? A few yards down, I spotted a toddler wearing a t-shirt that said, "A is for Attitude".

There was a giant beautiful John Deere tractor that would have been a wonderful thing to let lots of kids climb on at once (it was enormous), but the parents were more interested in the photo op, so instead, everyone had to stand in line to get their picture taken in the seat then get yanked out so the next parent could take a picture.

We waited in line because my boys just so very much wanted to sit on the big tractor. This situation repeated itself in any area that was “photographable”. The kids couldn’t just play on the concrete pig or sit between the wooden chickens or talk to the volunteers about the baby chicks; they had to stand in line, get their picture taken, and get out of the way. Most of these kids were little – age 1 to 2ish, and predictably, they cried when they had to get off the pig or leave the climb-able chicken 30 seconds after finally getting to it. I’m sure the tantrums didn’t make it onto the camera, though, and that’s what matters, right?

Being a bit older, my boys rolled with it all pretty well, but N said at one point, "Everyone is mad today, Mama."

I heard so much loud griping about everything that it made my head hurt within a half hour of being there. I just don’t get it. Why is everyone in such a hurry at the zoo at ten-thirty on a Saturday morning? I rarely take the boys to any kind of in-demand exhibit. Mostly, I think they’re really happy to go the zoo or the Children’s Museum at all – they simply don’t need any kind of extra-special offerings like that. They really love farm animals, though, and I thought it would be a wonderful exception. And it was. I fully expected crowds, and I and my well-rested children were simply in no hurry, so it wasn’t a big deal. There was plenty of open space in which to catch our breath when we needed to. But I’ve never heard complaining like that at the DMV. I’ve never heard moaning and whining like that at our local INS (immigration) office, where people are forced to wait in line outside the building in the  Minnesota winter. I guess when you're getting your driver's license renewed, you're not obsessed with getting the most "bang for your buck" on your one day off. If you're at the INS office, you may just be feeling lucky to be able to be there at all.   

I try to wish these people peace and try to find some love for a stranger within me instead of letting their behavior make me angry. But it’s hard. I take it especially personally when I see my kids looking at the griping and yelling and wondering what that’s all about. When my children visit the zoo, the kids and the animals shouldn’t be a heap more civilized than the adults.