Sorry, not funny..

Yesterday was not a good day. As a parent, there are those days that make you question whether or not all of your efforts to raise your children with the values that deem important were in vain. Yesterday was one of those days for me.

Short story:

I found out that my nine-year-old daughter had been a part of a group of girls who teased a boy, two years her senior, to the extent that all the other school age kids laughed at him and he ended up crying. (NOT HAPPY)

Long story:

I had stayed home to work so that I could take all three kids to the open house at their school. They would be able to meet their teacher, see their classroom, etc. I thought it would be a good idea, especially for Marty as he is going into Kindergarten and has not attended this school before. As I am picking up the kids, the director to the center tells me that we need to talk when I get back. Uh-oh. She tells me which of the kids it regards but didn’t want to go into details. I give Mary (the subject of my future conversation with the director) the chance to tell me what happened before we get back. She told me some of it, but not what I would consider to be the most important parts.

Apparently one girl made a comment about the boy in question. Insulting; yes. Inflammatory; no. Then it was decided that they should write it down (because apparently they thought it was just too funny). Then it was decided that they should take this piece of paper and tape it to the boy’s back so that all the other kids could see how funny they were. It did not end well. I do, however, commend the center for their response. The entire group of girls was held responsible and from the conversation I had with the director, the lessons she tried to impress up on them were exactly the ones I included with my conversations with Mary. They try to be really careful, especially during summer when so many older kids are there all day, to break up any activities that become exclusionary to other children.

Many of you did not know me in 6th grade but some of you may know the story. My entire school year was made hell by a pack of rabid twelve-year-old girls who, for reasons outside my understanding, decided to make me the sole target of all their negative attention. I lost friends due to lies they spread. I received hate mail in my desk signed by almost everyone in my class. I was alienated at lunch and other activities because they were popular and others did as they wanted. I was saved only by my parents, my teacher, and the few good friends I had at the time who refused to follow along. I still remember now, almost twenty eight years later, going home almost every day in tears and sometimes I still cry with the heart of a twelve-year-old girl. I did not realize until adulthood that my parents were just as heartbroken and frustrated as me. They met over and over with my teacher and principal to try and figure how to stop it. That summer we moved away because my father was re-assigned to a base overseas. It was probably the happiest move of my father’s Naval career for me.

My children know this story. I have told it to them before when they themselves were the target of teasing and negative attention. Mary is particularly sensitive to teasing but I had always comforted myself with the idea that, as hard as it was for her, at least she was not on the other side of it. Mary is a beautiful girl (though I am biased as her mother) and I have always worried that she would become the stereotypical blond bombshell that we all feared and/or idolized as we walked down the halls between class. The easy popularity that seems to come with being attractive has always made me more adamant in teaching about inner-beauty and not judging others. Mary is going into 4th grade this year, only two years away from being classmates with my past tormentors.

The disappointment I felt when hearing the whole story from the center director was only over powered by my empathy for the boy. My conversations with Mary ranged from angry to tearful and still I am unsure if my words left any impression at all. Yes, she expressed regret and yes, she understands how they made the boy feel and yes, she knows it was wrong. Yet when punishment was meted out, she insisted that she “didn’t do anything”. Now, while Mary’s part in all of this was smaller than others, she was still a part of it and I cannot excuse even her partial involvement. Just as the director did, I held her just as responsible as anyone else in the group. I cringed at the repeated, “I don’t know” response. Why did you do it? I don’t know. Didn’t you know it was wrong? Yes. Then why did you go along with it? I don’t know…

The time for I don’t know is over. The time for teaching right and wrong has past. If my children know what is right and wrong but still cannot make the correct choices based on that knowledge then something else has to be done. I want children who will stand up and speak out against the wrong or stand up and support the right. I want children who realize that their inactions can effect others just as much as their actions. I just don’t know how to do it. I can say it over and over but I cannot be sure that the concept is taken to heart. I realize that all of our experiences through life shape who we are and despite of or maybe because of the childhood hardships and adolescent fumblings I have come to a place where I like who I am. I think I am a good person. I want to raise good people. I just don’t know how much of this I can chalk up to being a learning experience and how much I have to consider the start of a problem.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

Documentary, my dear Watson!

It was an easy night at home with no homework (yet), showers done and nothing else on the schedule. The kids were allowed to watch a little bit of their shows and then Paul wanted to pick something slightly more educational, just so their accomplishment for summer was not listed as “watched the entire series of ‘H2O, Just Add Water’ on Netflix”. We looked around and came across a documentary on Lewis and Clark. Mary started getting excited since she had learned about Lewis and Clark in school. Then Mary tried to tell Sarah all about it so that Sarah could get excited too. Sarah started slicing her arms through the air like a MBL umpire calling a runner safe at home.

“Mary!” she exclaimed. “I am on summer vacation! I am not supposed to learn anything new!”

Yeah, Paul and I lost it…

Crack is Whack!

We were playing with the kids last night before dinner and one of them had brought into our room an old stuffed bunny that had been mine as a child. Mr. Bunny is well worn but still has most of his stuffing. Marty was moving his ears at different angles like old TV antennae and talking to himself in sing-song.

Marty: Crap, Crap, Crappy head.

I looked at my husband to see if he heard the same thing I did.

Marty: Crap, Crap, Crappy head.
Me: Marty, what did you say?
Marty: Crap!
Me: Do you remember that we talked about that word and why we don’t use it? It is a nasty word for ‘poop’. Please don’t say it.
Marty: Well then what is the word for like something broken?
Me: You mean ‘cracked’?
Marty: Yeah! Crack, Crack, Crackhead. He is a Crackhead.

Maybe I should just leave well enough alone!

Lost in Translation

Marty and the girls were playing around in the living room while I cooked dinner the other night (yummy Chicken Marsala!) when everything erupted into giggles. Honing my sense of hearing as only mothers can, I hear the girls teasing Marty because he had put his pants on backwards getting dressed in the morning and had been wearing them backwards all day. Now, this was not mean “ha-ha” teasing but rather the girls pointing at Marty’s pants, Marty wagging his behind at them and then everyone falling down laughing. Then repeat as necessary. I heard the girls exclaim over and over, “the fly is on your dupa!” (dupa = butt).

Dinner proceeded without any other events and then later at bedtime, I reminded Marty to make sure his pants were on the right way in the morning. As he undressed he kept looking over his shorts turning them over and over.

Me: Whets the matter?
Marty: I am looking for the bug.
Me: What bug?
Marty: MarySarah (always stated as a unit) said that there was a bug on my pants.
Me: (realization dawning) No, sweetie, your zipper was on your dupa because your pants were backwards. Your zipper is also called a "fly".
Marty: Oh, I thought they meant for real.

I can’t help but think of the other idioms he may have issues with until he gets older:

On the fly
Fly ball
Cost an arm and a leg
Break a leg
Drive me up the wall
Hit the Books (or the sack)
Hold your Horses
Kick the Bucket
No room to swing a cat
On the fence
Pick up your ears
Put a sock in it
Raining cats and dogs
Smell a rat
Spitting image
Smell something fishy
Till the cows come home
Wag the dog
When pigs fly
You are what you eat

Geometry & Genetics

Okay, so these stories don’t really have too much to do with higher learner but it was a catchy title and the stories are definitely worth reading.

Geometry: Marty was riding around with me this past weekend and showing off all the new shape names that he learned in Spanish. He already knows how to count to ten and most of his colors in Spanish but this is new so he was very excited. I hope you can use your imagination when picturing this little boy announcing each shape as if he is a game show host or late night talk show side-kick. I have put my mental reactions in for your enjoyment.

Marty: Oval (alright, here we go)
Oooovaaalooo (snicker)

Marty: Cone
Cooonnnoo!! (okay, now you are just adding an “o” to everything)

Marty: Square
Cuadrado! (okay, maybe he does know them)

Marty: Half Moon (really?)
Media Luna!! (wow, I’m impressed!)

Marty: Parallelogram (does he even know what that is?)
-slight pause-
Parallelograma!!!!!!! (snort)

David, this one was for you!


Genetics: Sarah was getting ready for bed and instead of sitting on her bed to put on her pajama pants, she decided to stand on the bed and had her pants trapped under her feet. Her solution? Just jump up high enough in the air to pull up your pants and then land back down on the bed! Paul looks at her and then me and shakes his head.

“That’s your half” he says then he walks out of the room to check on Marty.

“What did he mean 'your half’, mommy?” asked Mary. I tried to explain that every baby is made up with half of mommy and half of daddy. She looks quite disturbed.

“I am half daddy?! That must be why I burp and fart so much!”

Leprechauns & Lesbians

I have been saving this one…

Sarah comes in while I am getting ready for work and says that one of the boys at the daycare was calling her names the day before. The boy in question is a little older than the girls, maybe twelve, and the source of many reports of teasing.

“Well, what did he call you?”
“He called me a lesbian.” (Now, Sarah does not sound upset or offended at this.)
“I’m sorry, what?”
“He called me a lesbian.” Slight pause…
“Mommy, are lesbians real?”

At this point Sarah is looking at me as if she is asking about a magical creature only imaginable in fairy tales and I swear to you that I was so close to saying:

“No sweetie, they come from the magical land of Unicorns and Leprechauns”

So now at my office, we just shout “Leprechauns and Lesbians” as an exclamation.

For those of you concerned at the sexual overtones of the teasing, I did speak with the teachers and director of the daycare regarding the use of such terms. I did not feel up to actually discussing with Sarah the true meaning of the word, not that she asked me. Phew!

Slammin' Hot Nuts!

Sorry it has been awhile but I saved up a couple of good ones…

Slammin: I put Scrabble Slam on the kids’ Christmas wish list. I thought it would be a great game, right? Work on the kids spelling? Have fun? Right? So here is how the first round went...

TOOL
POOL
POOP
POOT
TOOT

Yeah, I think my kids new how to spell POOP without anyone shelling out $19.99.

Hot: I had just gotten out of bed when Marty came in and gave me a hug. The boy has a seriously distorted perception of temperature; he only takes cold showers because he doesn’t like the “hot” water. Anyway, he gives me a hug and says, “you’re hot”. I tickled him and then he says: “Get away from me, you hotter!”
Me: “No honey, that hottie, not hotter”
Marty: “You… are a real Hottie!”

Nuts: During a Saturday lunch, Marty wants to know what the ingredients are in the Honey Mustard dip for his chicken. Figuring it was pretty self explanatory I read the label out loud. As soon as I am done, Sarah cuts in with:

S: Phew! I was worried that there were nuts in there!
Me: Why?
S: My friend Robbie is allergic to nuts, he can’t have any.

I already knew this and considering that Robbie was not having lunch with us, I wasn’t sure why she was suddenly so concerned. I must have looked confused or worried because she suddenly has a very sincere look on her face and she tries to assure me:

S: Not the private parts (pointing down to her lap), the eatable kind…

I swear if she had even the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice, I would have taken her to task but she was absolutely serious.