The Docking Station

If your child is a toddler, you may--and I repeat may--not yet have entered the age of the iPod.  However, I have seen many a wee one tap tap tapping away at some sort of iPod game, so I'm guessing we've got a few young owners out there.

Here's the thing:  when they're toddlers, you can hand them the iPod when it's convenient for you, and take it back when it's not.

One day, they'll be older.  Wiser.  Smarter.  And, boy, will they want their Rights!

Here's my tip of the day, in hopes that other parents may experience the same peaceful atmosphere we have after implementing this rule.  And avoid that difficult time before-the-rule.

First:  buy a docking station.  They're everywhere.  We got one at Bed Bath and Beyond but look around.  They even have wireless chargers now--just set your iPod on this baby and it charges right up!

The Rule?  Get off the bus, come on in, and dock your stuff people.  Cell phone, iPod, whatever it is you're carrying, plug it in.  Right there.  Right now.  Do not check it unless you ask.  If you ask, we will usually say 'yes.'  If your homework is done.  At least, mostly.

The Other Rule?  Leave it there all night.  No checking after 9:00.  It can wait, I promise.

Generation Tech.

I sat down to write a post for Tuesday, but got distracted by my google reader. I don’t have time to read all of the blogs I love anymore. I am somewhat loathe to admit that I scan for interesting post titles and then just delete everything else. I am a zero inbox kind of person. Well, not exactly ZERO zero, but I don’t like unread messages sitting there, either in email or in my blog reader. If it’s bold, I either click on it to read it, delete it, or occasionally, especially in email when I don’t have time to scan through and delete all the hundreds of last minute SALE ENDS TODAY emails I seem to always get on Monday mornings, I select all and just hit “mark as read.” But at least they aren’t bolded.

My husband has 792 unread emails in his gmail inbox. This makes my head explode. He only clicks on the ones he wants to read, and lets everything else just sit there taking up space. (For the record, clutter is not really a problem for him. My husband is the guy who keeps receipts for McDonald’s, not in an organized OCD filed way, mind you, but crumpled up and tossed on the kitchen counter and in cupholders of cars and coat pockets and it really shouldn’t surprise him that he can’t ever find his wallet and his ID badge for work, and yet, it does.) But for email, he doesn't like expending energy just to delete something when he is capable of ignoring it.

My ten year old, who is more and more like me everyday, is definitely a zero inbox kind of guy. I tell him he doesn’t have to delete an email as soon as he reads it, but since he’s only getting emails from other ten year old boys that say things like “POKEMON 4EVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR” I guess there’s not much point in trying to explain it.

The kid also deletes texts and missed calls from his phone. He can’t stand to have it flashing “missed call” at him, so he calls the number back, hangs up before he gets an answer, and then is able to delete the entire exchange. I’m not sure about the call back part, but I’ve seen him texting friends, and then deleting immediately.

I’m not particularly worried about it, however. This is not a kid hiding something. This is a kid who cannot lie. Oh, he tries, but he’s so stinkin’ bad at it I just look at him sideways and he gives it all up. Recent example:

“Mom, can I have more cake?”
“Um, no, you just get one piece.”
“But I haven’t had any yet?”
“Really? Because you just asked if you could have MORE.”
“...”
“Nice try, dude.”

So I’m not really worried about submersive texts between ten year olds who all just got phones because us moms are tired of texting each other when we want our kid to return home for dinner. Now I just text the kid. And he understand, very clearly, that he either shows up at the door inside of about three minutes, or he loses the phone.

Technology rules.

Denial, part 2.

While we're on the subject of kids and school milestones, I got an email from the school district the other day that took me by complete surprise. The subject seemed harmless, it simply said "Fifth Grade Information." My oldest is in fifth grade, so okay, this made sense. I clicked.

Liar Liar McLiarpants, it was not fifth grade information. It was SIXTH GRADE information, for current fifth graders. As in, my oldest kid is going to middle school next year, and now is the time I have to start filling out enrollment forms and taking tours and parent classes about how they teach math these days in middle school.

I've written before about how easy it was to send my kids off to kindergarten. (Yes, that's a livejournal link. Is where I started blogging originally. Don't judge.) I have always been a working mom, and so kindergarten was a welcome respite in my pocketbook from the costs of preschool and daycare. It helped, to be sure, that my oldest was 5 going on 40 when he went to kindergarten, and on the very first day when I walked him to the classroom door, he ran inside, took his place on the circle rug, and never looked back to see if I was still standing there.

But middle school is different. I don't know why it's freaking me out more than I expected. It might be because my ten year old is very small for his age, like 2 percentile small, almost the same size as my eight year old. So he doesn't really seem like he should be going to middle school. I look at the kids in the neighborhood who are in middle school and they seem like giants, nearly adults, next to my kid.

Of course, it might also be bothering me because middle school starts an hour earlier. We are not exactly morning people around here.

But I have to face it, regardless. I have to take the tour, and learn how this new math works. It's going to happen, whether I'm ready or not.

The Middle School Challenge: Honors Classes?

It’s finally spring and this year, for us, that means lacrosse, soccer, soccer, and yes, one more time, soccer. I realize that I have only 3 children, and that 4 sports means I am going against a personal belief that children should play one sport per season. But that conversation is long and convoluted and we can discuss it another time.

In addition to the sports frenzy, it’s also the time of year when kids heading to middle school take tests for next year’s “challenge” classes, our district’s designation for honors classes during the middle school years. Conveniently, this testing coincides with the time of year when the sun hangs low in the sky well beyond bedtime, tricking children into believing that the school year is already over.

Last spring, SusieJ wrote a convincing post about not taking honors classes. Her son, as I recall, was nominated for honors math but took a look at the additional homework requirements and thought the better of it.

My son, hmmm…I’m waiting to see what decision he’ll make. I worry that he’s overly enticed by the “brand,” by the status, by the elitism, really, that honors classes proffer. It’s not that he thinks he’s too smart for the regular classes, not at all. It’s simply another one of those middle school identifiers: Which soccer team do you play for? Where do you sit at lunch? Which challenge class(es) are you taking?

It’s a quandary, though, because by all means he should take some challenge classes. The past two years have been a bit too enjoyable in the classroom, because it’s come a bit too easily. It’s one thing to skate through upper elementary; it’s an entirely different manner to head off to high school unprepared for the rigors of college prep. He’s ready for some challenge.

The question, though, is which one(s) and how many. My son enjoys learning. He also enjoys soccer, football, basketball, hanging out with friends, reading, and playing with his brothers. He most certainly does not enjoy mounds of homework. I'm fairly certain he's not wired to have 2-3 hours of homework every night. I mean, really, who is?

And so as the flowers push through the ground and the days grow longer, as they alternate between rain and sun, we run from event to event, practice to practice, game to game, and contemplate the year to come. No matter which choice he makes, it will be a year of growth, don’t you think?

photo credits: psmithy and me

Another Phase...for Mother and Child

Motherhood, I have found, is not unlike childhood.  We start off not knowing much, really, about what lies ahead.  We learn on the job, sometimes from parents, sometimes from experts, often from friends.  We make mistakes.  We misspeak.  We learn the meaning of mercy and grace.

With my eldest entering the tween years, I’ve entered a new phase of motherhood (and yes, it takes a lot of mercy and grace, on both of our parts).  In doing so, I’ve come to realize that motherhood, like childhood, is just that: a series of phases.  Some we relish, others we endure, but each phase comes and then—poof—it goes.  It vanishes and we are onto the next.

Before I even had children, I experienced a phase where I thought I knew a few things about motherhood.  I certainly knew what I wouldn’t do.  Ha! 

Then came the infant phase, which knocked me right into “how will I ever survive this” land.  I know that there are lots of you out there who ooohhh and aaahhhh over infants, and today I do, too.  But when I was seriously sleep-deprived, a thousand miles from anyone I knew, and lonely, I wondered if I would ever see the light of day again. 

But then he started to laugh.  And crawl.  And I loved that phase.  I loved it when he made a mess, threw a tantrum, and sat on my lap for hours reading picture books.  I loved it right up until he turned three.

The three-year old phase was a bit more challenging, but still fun.  All in all, we were good, and I knew what I was doing, and then he turned eleven.

And that’s where I find myself now, lost again, struggling to figure out what’s up, what’s down.  My sweet boy is still sweet, but suddenly prone to outbursts (you’re ruining my life!) and comparisons (every other person in my class has video games!) that have previously been absent.  Hormones (his, not mine), independence, and the quest for self-identity—we are here, suddenly, dramatically, here.

Way back in the day when I was still thinking about having children, a friend of mine, Cindy (already a mother of three), was a great encourager.  I couldn’t start having kids soon enough for her.  One day, she gave me a re-print of an article written by Dale Hanson Bourke that speaks about motherhood as truthfully and eloquently as I’ve ever seen it. (Click here to read it.)  It touches me as much to read it today as it did over a decade ago.  And as we make our way though yet another phase, of motherhood and childhood, I have to concur:  It’s changed my life and I’ll never regret it.