When Kirk was learning his multiplication tables, we tried flashcards.  No dice.  Kirk was bored.  If he got an answer wrong, he frankly didn’t care.  We tried the Multiplication Rap song.  No help.  While the song had a peppy back beat, nothing was sinking in.  Then I happened up Math War  Multiplication, an inexpensive card game and Kirk learned his tables in record time.  He LOVES playing this game and his little brother Kai LOVES playing Math War Addition and Subtraction.

The premise is incredibly simple.  Whoever has the bigger number wins.  I sometimes stack the deck with Kai because that multiplies his enjoyment of the game ten fold.  He wants to play it over and over.  Similarly, Kirk now had a big incentive to learn his tables.  To win!   I helped him the first few times, then started telling him I was winning with 8×6 to his 9×8.  He thought that had to be wrong, but I told him he needed to give the correct answer to win. 

To help out in the beginning, we took the multiplication poster in his bedroom and brought it downstairs so he could look up answers he was unsure of.  But after playing ten or twelve times, he’d mastered 90 percent of the tables and now we mix it up with Math War Division.

So if you want a cheap, easy, fast, fun after dinner game, pick up a pack of Math War cards and watch your child’s incentive to learn skyrocket.  Let the games begin….

We received a letter last week saying our older son Kirk had scored in the top two percent in mathematics and reading and the top five percent in language usage in the MAP (Measure of Academic Progress) testing in our school district.   My first thought was all those games and stories really do help!  I started this website as a place to share and explore ideas that help to make reading and learning more enjoyable, fun and effective, especially for boys.  It made me enormously happy to see that some of those ideas must be sinking in.  Good wishes!

I LOVED the idea.  And I was successful for almost three hours.  Then, ironically, I found myself complaining to a friend about my kids’ complaints pertaining to four of the five food items on their dinner plates.  Following the suggested practice, I switched my bracelet (my own though the site offers one) to the other wrist as a notice to myself I’d have to start the 21 days over again.

And thus I’ve gone on, once going three days before the switch.  I will be delighted to hit a new high of four days  but am benefitting from the mere attempt.   The very process of editing the complaints, negative descriptions, griping, and whining from my communications makes me realize two things.  First, negative talk is a complete bore.  Second, when I talk about the “bad” stuff, I “re-infect myself” by reliving the situation and just bring myself and whomever I’m talking to down.  

This challenge has made me very aware how much I complain to the kids (“Yuck!  Can’t you please close your mouth when you chew!”), about the kids (“You wouldn’t believe how much the kids were fighting today!”) and around them (“I can see why the postal service is going broke with those inconvenient hours”). 

So if you take out all the negative, what’s left to talk about?  I’ve started asking “So what’s the good word?” when we sit down to dinner or I call my parents.  I really enjoy hearing what’s going well in others’ lives.  And talking about the good in my day: a hug from the kids, a perfectly toasted bagel, a  kind check out clerk, the blue jay up in the Oak tree, the fact the kids ate all their veggies (even if open-mouthed), brings my mood up, reminding me of the myriad of happy moments in each day.

So far I’ve made it to 9:02, Wednesday morning, keeping it on the up and up.  I had to start over again last night….not that I’m complaining…;-)Good wishes!

At the end of first grade, my son’s teacher told us Kirk was below where he should be for spelling and, because of that, writing.  She was stumped because he was reading several grades ahead and “usually really good readers are good writers and good spellers.”

She suggested that perhaps he didn’t hear sounds properly and his speech sessions might help in time.  After a hearing check (he’s fine), school and private speech lessons, we saw no improvement in his writing or spelling. 

I tried several spelling work books and a Leap Frog spelling game, but these were of little help.  The word choices seemed random.  My mom, who is an excellent speller, suggested we try spelling bees after dinner, which she and her two sisters (also excellent spellers) did while growing up.  Kirk approached this with as much enthusiasm as I would a game listing Middle Eastern political leaders, i.e. ignorance breeds boredom.

Finally, we stumbled upon a combination that has worked beautifully.  Internet research led me to a system called “All About Spelling” by Maria Rippel.  The workbook, word cards and magnetic letter tiles combine to create a multi-sensory, step by step, logical approach to spelling.  The system is phonics based and sequential.  For example, you would have the child spell pan, then pin, then pen.  For someone like Kirk who hadn’t focused on vowels, this made a big difference in his ability to spell.

Slowly, you work up to short phrases, big dog, dig in mud, and so on.  And along the way, Kirk learned specific rules which helped a lot.  One key rule card asks which letters are often doubled after a single vowel at the end of a one-syllable word?  The answer “f, l, and s” (acronym floss) was one he easily remembered and suddenly words like dress, glass or sell became fairly easy.

To make the spelling fun (since he wasn’t good at it, it was the last thing he wanted to do), we created the game you see in the video.  Once he spells the word or phrase correctly, he tries to catch, hit or dodge the ball,  keeping his own point system (he always “wins”).  Our couch is past the legal drinking age; if you have one of those lovely House Beautiful living rooms, you might want to play this elsewhere;-).

The doorbell rings and while I’m hissing to the kids to ignore it, they’ve sprinted with Olympic speeds to the front door as if expecting the Ice Cream Truck man has started making home deliveries. Then they holler in their loudest, clearest voices, “Come on Mom! We can’t open the door because we don’t know that person.”

So, clad in pink and purple dotted pajamas, I wrestle the front door open (it sticks) to find a nicely groomed, made up, blown dry hair woman looking confused on my doorsteps. Her first words, “Oh, I’m so sorry I woke you up. I’m here because of your Craigslist garage sale ad. I was interested in the fountain.”

I told her we were already awake and the sale was three weeks ago. She insisted it had been listed for this weekend. I apologized for her inconvenience and promised to make sure it was properly deleted. She left, disappointed, and I traipsed back to the basement to find Julia Roberts looking absolutely fab on an Oprah rerun.

 In her shiny- haired, slim-legged glory, she is merrily laughing that perfect white teeth Julia Roberts’ laugh as Oprah is commenting what a fantastic mother she is. Oprah turns to Tom Hanks there with Julia to promote their movie and says, “Can you believe what mom she is? So hands on! And so loving! I just wonder what it would be like to grow up with so much love!”

My mind instantly goes to the morning when I’d given an irritated chastisement to Kai, “For heaven’s sake, Kai, you’re FOUR YEARS OLD! You can get your own glass of water…” And not long after, “Kirk, just give the fire truck to him and stop whining! You guys have no idea how aggravating it is to listen to this CONSTANT fighting!”

Then Oprah gives an example of Julia’s household bliss, citing one of Julia’s twins asking for a cookie. Julia says he can have half a cookie, and the twin contentedly accepts this. Naturally I’m thinking of my two sons who approach each denied or partially denied request with the attitude of a Teamster Union boss being asked to make concessions of say one half current wages…

Childish I know, but I actually go upstairs and Google Julia Roberts’ children, thinking can any life really be that perfect? And up comes her name, along with her Forbes listing as one of the twenty richest women in entertainment, with a net worth of 140 million. I can’t help remembering that Kirk recently commented, “But you don’t work, Mommy.” That night I’d had a dream that I was in the backseat of my parents’ Yukon sitting next to an old family friend and I was asking my parents for money. Maybe not a slasher nightmare, but not a good dream.

Scrolling down through Google articles, a bit of relief appears in a separate Forbes article, “Hollywood’s Dirtiest Little Secret: Nannies.” I immediately begin soaking in the details of Julia and Angelina’s numerous staff members and picture what it would be like to have a nanny for each kid, working on table manners, anger management and Latin in the morning while I tone up with a personal trainer and read scripts with twenty-five million dollar paychecks attached. At noon, I’d slip into a designer sundress and take the kids to an outdoor bistro for lunch and we’d all have a delightful, photo-perfect bite to eat….

The author of the article, Kira Blakely, gets it. Referring to these perfectly coiffed, glamorous Hollywood moms who appear to have and do it all:

What we don’t see are the armies behind the scenes who make this scenario even remotely possible. We don’t see the nannies–most celebrities not only have one, but one for each child. We don’t see the housekeepers, the stylists, the trainers, the cooks and the plethora of personal assistants. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if some female stars employ concubines to keep their hubbies smiling for the tabloids while they’re off filming for three months.

After a few moments of fantasy, I remind myself envy is a wasted emotion. How many women longed to be Jaqueline Kennedy in her picture perfect Camelot life before learning about a troubled marriage wracked with infidelity, the tragic loss of two infant children, and the all that followed? I remember getting up at some ungodly hour to watch Princess Diana coming out of a horse-drawn carriage absolutely shimmering in her wedding gown, the epitome of every girl’s dream. Another mirage that was shown up in years to come.

Maybe Angelina and Julia’s lives are not a mirage and they are truly living the full and fabulous life the photos depict. If so, then I can take from that hope that each of us can strive to have as good a life as we can fashion. Not to look at the shiny pictures of others’ lives as a comparison to finding my wanting, but to see it as a challenge to live my own, unique life in the fullest way possible. So I load up the kids’ bikes in the back of the mini-van and tell them we’re biking to Noodles for dinner. Best of all, we don’t need to worry about avoiding the paparazzi.

All Joy and No Fun

Why parents hate parenting.

• Published Jul 4, 2010

http://nymag.com/news/features/67024/

If you Google clutter, you will quickly find articles like “Clutter and Depression have a strong mindlink” and “Clutter equals stress plain and simple”.   The rest of the house is not too crazy, but the basement and closets – whoa!

A friend tipped me off to the University Job Center where you could post temporary jobs for students looking for extra money for books or beer.  I posted a notice that I needed someone to completely organize our basement, vacuum and mop it all out.  I offered $15 an hour, slightly higher than the average of $12, since the job had zero appeal, at least to me.

 I lucked out when a senior named Taylor, one of a surprising number of students to respond to the ad, emailed that organizing was “her thing”.  She showed up two days later and by the end of four hours, she’d done the impossible, completely cleaning out the basement.  I kept walking down there and turning on the light later that night to make sure it was real;-).

She came back the following week and organized our garage (3 hours) and the kids’ closets (2 hours).  Once there was a sense of order, I was able to get in there and start clearing out and donating games or toys or bric-a-brac we didn’t need.   The tax deductions from all the toys and other items will even help defray the costs.   Thus the toy chaos disappeared as did the nagging stress of knowing I really needed to tackle these areas. 

A much more organized than I am friend said, “But will it stay clean and organized?”  In the month or so since Taylor worked her magic, it has.  Now that there is a system in place and a lot less stuff overall, it’s easier to tidy up.  I don’t expect it will stay this neat forever, but considering it was years in the making, I couldn’t be happier.

So moms and dads stressed out about a garage or basement or closet you just don’t have the heart to tackle, consider a book needing or beer thirsting student who will get some great organizing experience and cash while you gain priceless peace of mind.  Good wishes!  Eileen

But I worry when I see him become more interested in the entertainment value of shopping to the exclusion of other things. Last month we went to a museum and walked through an amazing display of dinosaur artifacts with Kirk asking every few minutes, “Can we go to the gift shop now?” (In full disclosure, I visited my dear friend Emelia in New Mexico a few years back. Later I was talking about our visit to the Georgia O’Keefe museum. She said, “Eileen, don’t you remember the museum was closed and we just visited the gift shop and bought some posters?”–oops!)

In an effort to help Kirk expand his entertainment horizons beyond shopping and the need to bring something home when we go on an outing, I’ve been making a list of nature activities and nature areas that we can visit this summer. Last weekend we biked to a duck marsh. Admittedly Kirk asked several times if we could get home so he could play a computer game on PBS kids, but mostly we enjoyed the warm weather and sunshine.

Hopefully by helping him find value in things that do not involve acquiring yet more material goods, I will reinforce this for myself…though maybe not until after I take a quick pass through that amazing subdivision sale next Saturday morning…..

For the past week, this phrase, “I’ll kill you, Mommy,” has been my three-year-old’s ammunition of choice.  Charming I know….

The first time he used the phrase, I was totally taken aback.  He got an immediate time out, sitting on his bed hollering a second round as I slammed the door (mature, I know).  He definitely pushed my mad button.  I traced the phrase to Clone Wars – an action cartoon that involves “killing” the “bad clones” and put it off bounds – much to my older son’s dismay.

On Monday, I pulled aside his wonderful preschool teacher.  She assured me he wasn’t offering death threats to his toddler friends, nor getting forwarded mail addressed to Assassin in Training.  She went on to tell me that this is a prime age where  kids are learning to control their bodies when angry – no more hitting, biting, kicking.  Instead, toddlers quickly realize that words can be just as powerful as kung fu chops, if not more. 

She reminded me the best course was to stay calm so as not to feed his fascination with Mommy’s mad button and dole out our family’s consequences (time outs) in a non-reactive manner.   Sounds easy, right?  My husband, who takes pretty much everything in stride, was at his own wits end within days as Greek Tragedy suggestions of patricide were added to the matricide threats.  His only suggestion:  sprinkling holy water and hanging garlic.

Off to the grocery  store Wednesday afternoon.  My blonde cherub, his older brother, and I are going down the pet food aisle.  I told my older son he could pick out the dog treats.  That didn’t set well with younger son.  First the scrunched up face and glare that could top Eastwood’s best “Make my day…..” look, then the phrase…..

An older woman stopped in her tracks, clearly aghast.  She looked at my son like he was a monster child and me like I was the bearer of monster children. 

I was mortified, cheeks bright red.   “Well!”  she exclaimed as two eyebrows raised to her hairline.

Kai didn’t like her look either and I could just see he was about to add her to his hit list.

I calmly leaned down and told my son we don’t offer to kill people in the grocery store; it’s not polite.  A time out would be waiting at the end of the outing if it should be offered.  He complacently got back in the cart.  Score one for Mommy.

But the lead is lost again when we return home, tired and cranky.  I’m unpacking groceries, starting dinner, letting the dog out…… 

Kai:  I wan you to get me a Brachiosaurus, Mommy, a real one!

Me:  All the dinosaurs are extinct.  They aren’t around anymore.

Kai:  I wan one….now!

Me:  Kai, there’s no place to buy such a thing, not a real one.

Kai:  Yes you can!!  You can at the green place.  The dark green place.  You can Mommy.  I wan one!!!

You can guess where we went from there.

Taped on the fridge and highlighted from an article, Give Your Kids the Greatest Gift of All, by Joey Dononvan Guido, is the following:

Every time our kids’ share a thought, opinion or feeling with us, it’s a moment filled with potential—the potential to support their voice or undermine it.  If we’re able to listen, we show them respect—acknowledging what they say (and who they are) is important.

This gift is a simple (and as difficult) as taking the time to really listen to what our children have to say.  They might be telling us something that seems completely trivial, insignificant and unimportant.  But to them it’s important.

If we disregard what they’re expressing to us as unimportant (either verbally or non-verbally), what are we really saying to them?  The situation becomes ripe for feelings of rejection and disapproval.

Looking back at the past week, most of Kai’s “moments” came when I was busy, preoccupied and just plain didn’t want to be bothered.  He was clearly seeking attention and got it, albeit in a very negative way.  My takeaway, if I am much more cognizant, more in the moment, and really listen to his normal chatter, much as I like my chatter to be listened to (eye contact, genuine interest), the escalation to hurling words as missiles will be less all around.    

 After a few days of Mom “being the Buddha” when he tried out his arsenal, his phrase seems to have lost its appeal and we haven’t heard it in some time.  But I’m keeping  the sharp knives locked and watching my back…just in case I can’t track down that real, live Brachiosaurus at the dark green place……