The "Tomato" Drill

My children had a tornado drill at school on Friday.  According to Youngest's teacher, it was "traumatic."   

Apparently, the mere word "drill" totally freaks out Youngest and one other little boy in class.  So a loud fire drill is hugely traumatic, but even a quiet "just walk into the hall and assume the position" tornado drill causes all kinds of wailing and nashing of the teeth on the part of Youngest. 

So Friday was a tornado drill and Youngest was so distraught that the Executive Director of the whole place took pity on her and sat down behind her while she was in "tornado position," rubbing her back and trying to calm her. 

Youngest (2) was so appreciative that when she went back into her classroom, she asked her teacher if she could "write a letter" to the Director.  So she scibbled blue marker all over a paper and then the teacher wrote this letter, as dictated by Youngest:

Dear Name of Director:
I really liked it when you rubbed my back during the tomato drill.  You made me feel very safe today.
Love,  Youngest

Melts a mommy's heart, doesn't it?

If you have kids, have you ever been at school on a drill day?  When I am, it brings me to tears, watching the reality of our trust in the place we take our children every day.  We don't just trust them to educate, we trust them with their very lives in case of emergency.  To see how seriously they take this charge is overwhelming to me from the parent perspective.  And to think about "what if the real thing" did occur, how important all of these Drill Days would become is just mind-boggling. 

So today is Teacher Appreciation Day at their school.  And I will thank them here (and there) for teaching our children many life skills, not just academics.  I am blessed this year that all of my children's teachers view their job as more than a job, but a true calling to help each and every child reach their full potential and I am grateful to their dedication and selflessness. 

Thank you, Teachers.

Super Sunday Series - Be your child's advocate

Welcome back to the Super Sunday Series - where I speak to all topics gifted and how they relate to your child's well-being.  Please click on the tab above if you want to discover more about the Series and its topics.

It doesn't matter that I spent 6 years as a trial attorney.  I always get major jitters when standing up to speak.  I used to throw up behind the courtroom on the first day of trial, truthfully.

Personal phobias aside, yesterday I spoke to the Ohio Association of Gifted Children Parent Division meeting about using social media to help you with your gifted child.  Which is funny because I (literally) didn't know what social media was until about 6 months ago.  And now I'm speaking about how important it is.  And it went great!  I'm not sure how many people will be joining Twitter today as a result of my talk, but there were many good questions about the hows and whys of social media.  And my hope is that hearing about my experience will help move these parents a step closer to discovering the joys in social media.

I attended the first half of the meeting as well, which was nice, as I''m a member of OAGC.

While there:

I heard frustration . . .over schools not meeting the needs of gifted children.


I heard bewilderment . . . over how best to help gifted children reach their potential.


I heard anger . . . over state testing and its lack of "real measurement."


I heard hope . . . that some kids are doing very well and that can happen for all kids someday.


I heard pride . . . from parents who have newly discovered "giftedness" in their child.

And I was thrilled to share my story of how much blogging and Twitter have helped raise my awareness of the issues we all face as parents of gifted children.  The energy in the room was palpable and the attendees were engaged and truly committed to finding answers.

With a 2nd grader, I'm on the front edge of the "gifted push."  It was wonderful to hear people with older kids talk about their experiences over the years.  One of my favorite quotes came from a parent of high school aged gifted children.  She spoke about striking a balance (and I am paraphrasing):

"My gifted kids are in band, play a sport, on student counsel and in AP classes.  They have 4 hours of homework a night.  One of the biggest challenges is knowing they can handle the work, but also knowing they can't, because I just can't push them to the brink of exhaustion just because they can.  And finding the balance of picking which AP classes they should do, instead of all of them, is very hard sometimes."

I was amazed how many people rely on their teachers to educate them on the issues because, as parents, they don't have a knowledge yet of where to find resources.  What a disservice you might do to your child if you do this!  My greatest source of happiness over discovering social media is this:  Arm yourself with as much knowledge and understanding as you can.  

Oldest's very first teacher said this to me over and over.  "You must learn how to be the advocate for your child.  This is one of your most important duties as a parent."

I had no idea what she meant 6 years ago.  Yesterday, I witnessed how important those words were as I saw several people floundering with their difficulties in the school system.

So here is my message to you - BE YOUR CHILD'S ADVOCATE.  They are counting on you (and so is the future of our country).

Next week on the Super Sunday Series, I'll talk about what I think it means to be your child's advocate.  


Tomorrow, March's Happiness Plan - It's all about the kids, man!

The Castle and the Purple Dragon

Oldest is a jump in first and say "OH, Sh*t!" later kind of gal.  It keeps me awake at night - thinking about high school, college.

Youngest thoroughly evaluates a situation before she dips one toe in to test the water.  Then she decides if it's worthy of her time and attention and may participate.  I love that about her.

Saturday she had a birthday party at one of those cavernous warehouses full of bouncy houses.  She spent 30 minutes scoping out the action, made her plan, and jumped into the fray at the slide.  Promptly knocked heads with another little boy as they bounced into each other accidentally, but no matter, she pressed on.  She had made her decision, right?

Then, disaster.  She entered a castle bounce house that I discovered too late was beyond her abilities - she's small.  She'd been in there for 5ish minutes and I'd neither seen nor heard her.  I walk around the castle looking for her and see these two little girls feverishly climbing over SOMETHING, something low to the ground and it looked like they kept tripping over it.  I knew.

"Hey girls, have you seen Youngest?"

"Oh, yeah, she's right here (pointing under their feet), she wants to come out."  Blissfully continuing to climb over her body.

So in true Moms CAN move cars when they think their child is hurt fashion, I hurtled through the entrance of the castle, scaled the wiggly wall, dove over the slide and there she was.  Bawling.  Hitching and bawling so loudly, so terrified, possibly more scared than I've seen her.

So I grab her, hold her, all the while these two girls are still zooming past us, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, completely oblivious.  Ever wondered how people can actually stampede other people with no awareness of doing it?  I got a glimpse into it Saturday.  Yes, these girls were young, but I'm telling you, Youngest was in such a terror that I hope and pray my own children would GET SOMEONE if they ever see another kid like that.

Anyhoo.  I get her out and when she can finally talk, she tells me that she "got stuck and the vewy, vewy scawy purple dwagon was on top of her and she was so, so scawed, Mommy.  Can we go tell Oldest?  Can we call Daddy and tell him?"

The purple dragon in question was attached well above her head, and was obviously not a real threat.  But I'm sure to a 2 year old laying on the floor, unable to get up, it did look as real and scary as her perception of it.

She's made her plan of attack for the next time she goes, which is (and I'm not making this up, people), "I'm going to go to that purple dragon and say NO, THANK YOU, Purple dragon.  I do NOT want to come in there today."  And she nods vehemently while saying this, convincing herself of the wisdom in her plan.

Moral of this story?  May you recognize the purple dragons in your own castle for what they really are - a scary, yet imaginary threat.   Don't give them any more time, energy, attention or fear than they deserve.  And learn to say "no thank you" to them.  Nobody needs a fake purple dragon terrorizing their castle, do they?  We have enough real dragons to slay as it is.

Do you have any purple dragons in your life right now?  I do.  But I'm taking my lesson from a 2 year old and saying, No, thank you, purple dragon.  

TV - crack for kids?

I've talked before about my love/hate relationship over TV.  I love it b/c it distracts the kiddos and lets me do STUFF.  I hate it because it turns them into bickering little meanies (practicing nice words).

"Get out of my way!"
"No!"
"I can't see!"
"Stop touching me!"
"MOOOOOOOMMMMMM!"

It makes me wish I'd never turned it on, all the while that I'm praying they stop bickering and start watching so I can do STUFF!

Like an alcoholic who curses the drink, while drinking . . .

Like an overweight person who bemoans inability to lose weight, over dessert . . . 

I've been reading for years that the American Academy of Pediatrics says children should watch no more than 2 hours per day.

My book club book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Families says the real average is around 7 hours a day.  How can that be possible?

We probably do 1-2 during weekdays and 2-3 hours on weekends.  It's become problematic, though, because they want to watch different things, but also end up watching each other's stuff too.  

Today, we're doing something about this love/hate relationship of ours.  Lord.  Help.  Us.

We, as a family, have decided to have a "virtually TV free" Lent from today until Easter.

What do I mean by "virtually TV free?"  This is Husband's idea (the cradle Catholic of the two of us).  Give TV up completely but for a few, small exceptions:

Me - Lost and my 20 minutes of treadmill time
Husband - Lost and March Madness (which is the real reason he suggested this alternative)
Girls - One show per day, trading off who gets to pick each day

Hold me.  I'm scared.  Whatever are we going to do with ourselves?

I've been slaving over my DVR for 3 days, trying to watch all my backlogged shows to make room for what's going to accumulate (and likely need to be deleted, sadly).

I'm not going to get to watch the Bachelor finale (who IS pregnant, anyway?), no Survivor Heroes vs.Villains for me.  No Grey's, no Desperate Housewives or Brothers and Sisters.  No CSI or CSI: NY.  No Criminal Minds or The Mentalist.

OMG.  What have I done???  It would have been so, so, so much better to give up alcohol or dessert, like I suggested.  But we made this decision a family decision and now I must reap the "rewards."  Bet you're going to see a lot more of me here, which might not be a bad thing.  I might even catch up with everything I'm so behind on, which could be a good thing.  We will definitely have more quality family time (which is why Oldest voted for this option), which will be a great thing.

But still.  Lent is 46 days long.  Forty.  Six.  Days.

What about you?  Have you ever done something like this?  How did it work out?

Suzuki Piano Recitals = Sweet Music

My 6 word Saturday post told you someone had a recital that day.  Some of you, I think, believed it was my recital.  Alas, no.  Oldest had her first Suzuki Piano recital of the year. 

What do you know about the Suzuki method?  I didn't know much either when we started almost 2 years ago.  I just liked the idea that the lessons were one-on-one, rather than group.  When we started, we had all of these "rules:"

1. I attended alone for 2 months.
2. I was to attend and "participate" in the lesson.
3. Younger siblings stayed home unless they could play quietly or draw during the lesson.
4. I had to read a book about the method before starting. 
5. We had to observe another student before starting to see the method in action.

Stuff like that.  And let me tell ya - I almost didn't sign her up after we observed the other student (probably wouldn't have, but we'd already paid into it).  The student was like . . . brilliant.  A virtuoso.  A-M-A-Z-I-N-G.

She was also the same age as Oldest.  I went to my next (and last) personal lesson before Oldest started and said, "I am shocked.  She's so good."  When what I wanted to say was, "Why did you have me watch a virtuoso?  Why not have me watch one of your "regular kids," you know, like mine's going to be.  I just had her in a keyboarding group class and she did awful." 

The teacher just said, "She's been taking a little over a year now - that's where Oldest will be next year."  I didn't believe her.   

Then. 

Oldest lost TV all Memorial Day weekend, about 2 months after she started.  The only thing she could "think of" to do to entertain herself was play piano.  It was a major turn for both of us.  I started to see the method in action.

The Suzuki Method is not unlike the Montessori Method, assuming that every child, through hard work and concentration, has great potential.  Shinichi Suzuki strongly believed adults weren't born with raw "talent," that "talent" appears only through hard work and repetition.  And a nurturing environment.

He's right, of course, but you should hear people's reactions when they hear Oldest play something like Ecossaise, which was her Recital piece.  They are flabbergasted, frankly.  Like, "What talent!  What do you do!  She's amazing!" 

And I, knowing it's just the method at work, smile and tell them the Suzuki method of piano is the best choice we made with Oldest's music lessons.  That they should give it a try. 

But guess what?  When I hear the Older kids play things like Book 4, which she will get to when she's around 14, I am the one who is flabbergasted.  The boy (15) who plays ahead of us right now is SO GOOD!  I recently said this to the teacher - "My God!  He's so good!"  Because even I forget about the method when I listen to the older kids.  Her reply?  "Oh, well, that's where Oldest will be in about 6 years." 

So matter of fact about it.  But then again, she's been teaching for 30ish years, I think, so she's seen it many, many times. 

What's my point today? 

One - To tell you the Recital went great.   When you listen to kids ranging from 4 to 16 years old, you get a wonderful cross section of "where you've been" and "what you will become."  And we have become a little community of families who all share the same love of this method and the results we see in all of our children.

Two - The activities you enroll your child in really do make a big difference.  Had we stuck with the group keyboarding, we would have walked away thinking she had no "talent" and that she wasn't "meant" to be a piano player.  With some research and a bit of a leap of faith, though, she's in a program that fits her needs and personality "practically perfectly in every way." 

Three - Sometimes I love my children so much I could eat them - Saturday was one of those days.  But it doesn't matter how many times she attends these recitals (Saturday was her 4th), Husband and I are always so nervous we can hardly speak until she's done.  Oldest?  Not at all - which is one of the things I love most about children - they don't yet GET what a big deal it is to play alone in a room full of people. 

Four - Youngest will officially start when she turns 3.  THREE!  Can you believe it?  She already gets up on the bench and "does her practice," which already echoes the tempo of what she hears Oldest doing. 

Amazing.

Parenting hurts, then you cry in the bathroom

What's the hardest part of parenting?  The inability to take all of life's hurts away from these little beings you love more than anything else you could ever imagine.  And truthfully, even if I had the ability to take them all away, I wouldn't/couldn't do it.  And that hurts even more, knowing that one of my absolute duties as a parent is to let them experience pain so that they can grow.

Yesterday was Oldest's first day back to school, if you're wondering.  She's floundering over some things right now, she poured it all out over Christmas vacation, so I knew her first day back might not go well. 

Sunday night, I sat down on her bed and told her "I had the BEST Christmas vacation with you.  Thank you."  And she started crying and whispered, "I did too.  I don't want it to end." 

I agreed with her, because as tantalizing as some quality alone time sounded by the end of the weekend, I knew that 1) we did have such a wonderful time together (all of us) and 2) she was going to struggle when she went back.  Sometimes living idyllically in vacationland forever seems SO much better than getting back to real life, doesn't it?  So I understood completely where her tears were coming from. 

Yesterday morning couldn't have gone better.  Great morning routine, left the house totally on time, 3 favorite songs on the radio on the way.  A-W-E-S-O-M-E. 

But the girl I picked up was so much different than the girl I dropped off.  I'm not going into details yet for a variety of reasons, but here is what she said to me (after much crying):

"I feel like the smallest little dot in the classroom where everyone's a giant and I'm just a little dot."

Heartbreak.  HEARTBREAK to hear your child see herself that way.  When she's so NOT that way. 

There are things I can (and will) do to help her through this, but the truth is that much of it is just the pain of growing up.  The pain of being a kid and not knowing all the answers.  The pain of being a gifted girl who thinks so differently than most everyone she meets that life brings some challenges I wish she didn't have to face. 

Parenting hurts, then you cry in the bathroom.  Because you don't want her to take her situation any harder than she already is.

Dear So and So - New Year's Edition

Welcome to the New Year's Day version of Dear So and So.  After you finish here, head over to Kat's blog to see what the other Dear So and Sos are up to!  Or even better, make it a resolution to link up through hers each week and write your own! 

Dear New Year's Resolutions:

Barf.  Let's do it again, K?  We pretty much dance the same dance every year.  **Editing note:  I have literally written this sentence 5 diff times and find a different mistake every time.  Can it really be that complicated?**  How 'bout this year we keep the train a-rollin' longer than, say, 3 months?  How 'bout my main resolution be "that I am still successful in all my resolutions on December 31st, 2010.  THAT would be success. 

Signed,

See the remaining letters for why this is so difficult

Dear holiday eating:

This morning I'm on the "what in the HELL was I thinking" train and am annoyed (practicing my nice words again).  Here's the thing about me:  I'm really good at not dieting, I'm pretty good at dieting and I'm JUST AWFUL at maintaining.  Anybody else have this issue?

Signed,
Can't WAIT to get back in the winter weight loss saddle, Really.  Seriously.  Can't WAIT.  Maybe I'll go think about it over French Toast and Mimosas.  And bacon.

Dear Plan to organize:

I'm really good at having a messy house, I'm pretty good at getting things organized and I'm JUST AWFUL at maintaining an organized state of non-clutter.  All the time.  With everything in its place. 

Signed,
Need a Live In Organizer


Dear Exercise plan:

I'm starting to see a pattern here!  I'm really good at not exercising at all, I'm pretty good at going at it hard core to get back into shape, I'm JUST AWFUL at maintaining a healthy exercise schedule.

Signed,
Don't I Want to Live to a Ripe Old Age? 

Dear Organic food:

I'm really good at shopping at Kroger.  I'm pretty good at getting to Whole Foods and Trader Joe's to do a more sustained organic lifestyle - every now and then.  I'm JUST AWFUL at keeping up the rotation between three grocery stores to get the diverse organic selection I desire (which, of course, I don't even know what that entails since I don't get there often enough).   Plus who's givin' up Diet Pepsi or Coke?  Not moi.

Signed,
Bring Diet Drinks to Whole Foods in 2010

Dear Super Freakonomics -

Thanks for the quote.  Now I no longer need to think I'm lazy, unmotivated over the long term, can't follow through or uncommitted.  Because sometimes when I start these yearly resolutions, I wonder. 

"The brilliant rationalist had encountered a central, frustrating tenet of human nature:  behavior change is hard."  Page 148.

Signed,
Isn't it great to be normal? 

Dear Optimism -

Still there?  Good.  I'm gonna need ya.  Now off to eat some bean curd and tofu for breakfast, followed by a 3 mile run, a trip to Whole Foods and a trip to Target for my organizational essentials.  ;)

Signed,
Sometimes Optimism is Delusion in Disguise

Dear Readers:

What are YOUR resolutions for 10?  Mine are still under construction, so look for the real ones in a future post.

Signed,
It's not really THAT bad.  I'm actually super excited for 2010! 

Emergency Room, Anyone?

My life has become a comedy or errors, as a good friend mentioned yesterday, BEFORE this happened.  Either that, or God's reminding me what we REALLY need to be thankful for.  Safe, healthy children.

Youngest fell into one of our window wells yesterday on the way to the car to pick up Oldest from school.  She cracked her head on a cinder block as she tumbled, truly somersaulted into it.  It's a pretty deep well for a two year old, apparently. 

How did she do it, you ask?  I'm pretty sure she was showing me her newest move, the "dancy pants," where she wiggle walks while saying "I'm dancy pants, I'm dancy pants."  It all kind of blurs together though, one minute she was walking to the car, the next she was tumbling into the window well.

So she's fine.  I'll just get that out of the way.  3 stitches to the back of the head, but fine.  You can see by the pictures below that she loved every minute of her little trippy-poo to the ER.  And I have to say she was the bravest girl EVER.  Didn't squirm ONCE when getting her stitches (to the back of the head, no less, so they basically held her face down on the table for about 5 minutes to do it). 

Oldest, after getting over her terror that her sister was going to die (the blood on my sweater - cashmere - of course!  I would ruin nothing less), handled herself quite well too.  Stellar, actually. 

Me?  I'm pretty good about the injury.  It was a freak thing and these things happen, I know!  What I'm most freaked out about is their exposure to H1N1 for the 3 hours we were there.  I'm pretty sure we were 3 of 75 patients in the ER there for something besides Swine Flu.  Shocking, really.  Aren't people reading the paper where it says to stay home unless it's serious? 

I mean maybe they all were serious.  I don't know.  I just really, REALLY wished I hadn't brought them into such a hotbed of germs as the bleeding subsided and I'm thinking I overreacted and she really didn't need to go to the ER.  I was even thinking up t-shirts I could make for us:

My Kids Came to Children's Hospital

for Stitches and All They Got was

this Lousy Swine Flu

I thought it was catchy, even if a little off-color.  But when people are surrounding you with fevers, hacking and barfing from a pandemic, sometimes a little levity is what gets you through. 

So anyway.  We FINALLY made our way to a doctor and the minor walk down the hall broke it back open, which of course led to VINDICATION for MAMMA!  I DID make the right decision after all!  Plus, I got these great pics - I mean seriously, can it get any cuter?

This was her waiting for the local anesthetic to kick in.  Now, maybe the t-shirt will read:

We went to Children's for Stitches

and Came Home with

H1N1, Stitches, AND

this Awesome Mummy Wrap!

People, I'm not making light of any of this because I'm callous.  It's my way of clinging to the narrow thread of composure I grabbed when I pulled Youngest away from my body and saw the blood all over my shirt and hers. 

This is my second What If X Had Happened with a child in a little over 48 hours.   Check out Monday's post to see my what if with Oldest.  I'm feeling extraordinarily more thankful tonight than I ever thought possible when I wrote that (now laughable) post about Thankfulness Saturday morning. 

Life is good.  Life is good.  Life is good.

The Teetering Update

So yesterday was when my parents left.  Usually I don't see much fallout on the day they leave.  But yesterday it was ALL ME who had the fallout. 

I decided to use a shortcut to the girls' gymnastics class.  Last night was the first night.  I chose the wrong way and got us lost to the tune of a 20 minute detour.  At the beginning, who was falling apart?  No one.  I was in control.  We were going to make it.  The girls were none-the-wiser.  Just holding hands in the back seat singing (alternating) Our Lady Peace and O.A.R.  How cute is that?

I started realizing my folly pretty early in the game (ie: I overestimated my ability to get us from point A to point B too easily).  We were not coming from home.  We were coming from an appointment and I had it totally worked out in my head how to get there.  It was going to be no problem.

The PROBLEM, I discovered, was that I HAD NO IDEA HOW TO GET THERE FROM WHERE WE WERE.  I tried, and I DID get us there, but there were about 30 minutes of OMG, WHERE ARE WE, CHRIMINY WHAT HAVE I DONE moments. 

The kids handled it well until LITERALLY, the last 2 minutes.  I mean, seriously, do you have to freak out when we're there?  What about Mommy's freak out the previous 30 minutes?   You know it, moms, the silent freak out you do when you don't want your kids to know?  The freak out you try to hide but your tension fills the car?  Oh, is that just me?  Sorry. 

Being lost AND not on time is quite possibly my biggest personal life nightmare (aside from the obvious family catastrophies I won't go into here). 

So, you are wondering how the last two minutes went? 

Oldest started bawling and hyperventilating over our late-ness (15 minutes), mostly because Youngest kept saying (I kid you not - 20 times at least), "Oldest, are we at dimdastics yet?"  It was funny until Oldest started moaning in the backseat and begging her to STOP because she was going to DIE if she heard it one more time. 

Of course, as it's always the case when Mommy's held it together over major trauma (getting lost in your own town certainly fits THAT), I ended up saying in a not-so-normal tone of voice, "DO YOU WANT MOMMY TO START SCREAMING WHEN WE ARE LITERALLY TWO MINUTES AWAY, I MEAN I CAN SEE THE PLACE, CAN'T WE ALL KEEP FROM LOSING IT NOW?"

Which begs the question that maybe MOMMY was losing it, I know. 

But, we made it in one piece.  15 minutes late, which makes me C-R-A-Z-Y.  I can't stand being late.  Hmmmm.  I wonder where Oldest gets her standards?  Just one of life's little mysteries.  ;)

And they L-O-V-E-D it.  Seriously.  They think gymnastics (dimdastics) is the best thing that ever happened to both of them.


Ahhhhhhhhh.  Some days it all works out. Eventually.