Time Out At My House

There’s very a strict boys-don’t-hit-girls rule at our house. The girls know that if they egg #5 on just to try and make him hit so that he violates the rule, they’ll get punished too.

We were in the kitchen talking about which girls at school like #5 and which girls he likes back. Apparently we picked the right one (psst… it’s Iris), because he suddenly overreacted and kicked #3 in the back of the knee, hard. I sent him to his room.

Here’s the thing about sending this kid to his room. I always forget he’s in there.

Every. Damn. Time.

I’ll send him to his room and go along about my business and start feeling really smug and productive, entirely forgetting that the productivity is solely due to not getting interrupted every ten seconds- because I sent #5 to his room. I get so productive that I lose track of time. At some point, but usually not until at least forty minutes into it, I wonder where he is.

So last week when he kicked his sister, I sent him to his room, laughed with #3 about how he actually does like Iris no matter what he says, finished making dinner, got dressed, even put on makeup (which really should have been my first clue that something was amiss because there’s never time for that), packed my bag for work and went out to the car to work on my late Easter present for the kids. More about the gift in a minute.

I had something for #5 and went to get him. He was not in the music room. Not playing video games or watching TV. Not reading on my bed.

Me: Where did he go?

#2: You sent him to his room.

Me: Oh crap! I totally forgot.

#2: Wasn’t that like, an hour ago?

Me: Ummm. . .

#2 and #4, in unison: Parenting Fail!

So I went in to #5’s room and we talked about why he got sent there in the first place. We don’t want him to ever be a man who hits a woman, hence the rule. He gets it, and knows why it’s important. He still doesn’t believe that one day he’s going to be bigger than all his sisters.

I did not own up to the fact that I had forgotten him. He can work that out in therapy later when he figures it out. Then I showed him why I was looking for him, what I had saved. And I took him outside and let him put the last one on the car.

One what, you ask?

In Kristin Lamb’s excellent book Are You There Blog? It’s Me, Writer she talks a bit about privacy and mentions that she doesn’t like the little stick people that you put on the minivan because it tells robbers exactly how many people they’re going to have to subdue when they break in, plus a hamburger full of sleeping pills for the dog. She’s totally right. There’s even an episode of Dexter where the predator gets his prey that way.

My message to robbers here is clear:

We are an entire army of the goddamn undead. Don’t even try it.

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Is this going to hurt my chances at becoming class mom? What parenting or other fails have you had recently?

Say What?

Sometimes I hear myself say things and realize that, had my life taken a different path, I would never utter these words all together in the same sentence.

Last Sunday we took everyone to see the final Harry Potter movie at the theater at Willowbrook Mall. I had purchased the tickets earlier online, while not wearing my glasses, and there was a problem getting them at the theater. I had to go to guest services, where I heard myself say, “There’s a Willowbrook in Houston? As in Texas?”

For the record, Houston? All y’all’s movie tickets are cheap compared to New Jersey’s.

Here are a few things that CC and I said over the past couple weeks that I never dreamed would be necessary:

Don’t lick your sister.
Do not run with a glass in your mouth.
Stop tasting the dogs.
No, you can’t hide in the dryer.
Actually, you’re not a ninja.
Don’t lick your brother.
I’m sorry the Tooth Fairy didn’t show up again. He was probably drunk.
Get out of the dishwasher.
Do NOT “pants” our guests. What if he’d been going commando?
Yes, steak is muscle. What? No, you probably wouldn’t get a very big steak out of a baby.
No, it’s not a problem that you spilled a coke in my purse.
No, sweetie, I’m sorry. Your letter from Hogwarts still didn’t come.

What can you add to the list?

She Hurts My Soul

We’re doing a summer reading challenge at my house with #2-#5. We let #1 off the hook because she done graduated.

Schools send home a suggested summer reading list with the kids on- wait, I don’t actually know when they do this. Last day of school? It doesn’t seem the list would have a very good shot at making it home if that were the case. Second-t0-last day of school? Do they mail it the week after school gets out? I have no idea. I only know that the list for each kid always makes it up onto either the bulletin board or the fridge, with one exception.

I’m lookin’ at you, #4.

Not that all the other kids eagerly hit their summer reading lists before they start sleeping til noon, eating popsicles for breakfast, and staying in their pajamas until dinnertime. The only one who reads voluntarily even if we’re not having a power outage is #2.

But their lists always go up. Then we commence ten weeks of them not reading anything on their lists, and me using ineffective methods of trying to get them to read.

This is baffling to me. My mom used to have to force me away from my books.

This year I gave each kid a certain number of pages to read every day, the equivalent of twenty to thirty minutes of reading. It’s what they supposedly do anyway during the school year.

There’s even a reward: if they all meet their page goals I’ll buy them a new Wii game. No, the irony is not lost on me. Get off my ass.

Here’s our progress:

Immediately after we started the challenge, #2 went away to volleyball camp at the Naval Academy. Even while playing approximately 187,046 minutes of volleyball every single day, she finished her entire six weeks of reading in ten days.
#3 dug into her list and our bookshelves and found some things she liked. This is a first. She stayed up late many nights reading, not texting boys. I know this with certainty because her phone is broken. She liked The Lovely Bones and The Maze Runner. She finished last week.
#4 acted as if I were asking her to strangle kittens instead of read.
#5 loves the Magic Tree House books. They were on his list last year, but I think this late interest is a result of him being a full year younger than most of his classmates. I’m cool with that. He likes to come into our room to read because it’s quiet.
#4 now isn’t even keeping up with lying to me about reading.

After the first week of the challenge, all the kids give me updates. #4 tries to escape. I call her back into the kitchen.

Me: How’s your reading?

#4: Good.

Me: How much have you read?

#4: Um. I don’t know.

Me, narrowing my eyes at her: Have you read at all?

#4: Yes! I was just in my room for twenty minutes reading!

Me: Well, what’s going on in your book?

#4: Um, I can’t remember.

I make her bring it to me. The book is a challenge for her, which is the point. She’s heading into sixth grade and needs to step up. I try to come up with ideas to help. I tell her that as long as she makes an honest effort, I’ll count it. She can fall short of the goal, but if she’s trying, we can work something out. She reads nine pages out loud to me while we’re in the kitchen. It’s a good book.

I think that’s the last time she reads.

I got home from work the other night and found this:

Her jotted-down user name and password for a kids online gaming/virtual world site.

NO READING 4 ME

ME NO READ

You hurt my soul, #4.

Not to be a total doomsayer, but I’m fairly confident she won’t miraculously bust out her reading chops over the next two weeks. Overall, the challenge has been a success: two of three kids who swore they hated to read are liking reading.

#4 is a happy, well-adjusted, smart kid with good grades who would just rather be swimming or skateboarding or pretty much anything else besides reading. She has a ton of friends and whenever she gets in trouble, it’s usually hilarious. Not a bad place to be, really.

But what about the reading challenge reward? The deal was that all kids had to make their goals to get the Wii game. I can’t very well get a game and be all like, “Don’t let your sister play it!”

I’m open to ideas (unless you live in this house and I refer to you by number, in which case a suggestion such as “Give them their own Wii and TV in their rooms!” will just earn you extra chores).

How do I reward the kids who made their reading goals?