Thematic Thursdays: Cheer Up For Your Kid’s Sake
Are you pessimistic or optimistic? Take a look at the way your kids view things, and you’ll get a pretty good idea. My eldest daughter is a “Debbie Downer,” but she didn’t get this way on her own. The last couple of years have been full of dinner conversations, where we talk about all of the horrible things in our days. I walk around the house ranting about things that need to be fixed, and finding crafty ways to fix them. Hannibal has less than stellar reviews of his co-workers each day. Then we listen to KPFK in the morning on the way to school, and Sonali discusses all of the “uprisings” in the world. Despite how happy we are with each other and how awesome and inventive the solutions are that we find to the aforementioned problems, Mooch is focused on one thing — the world has problems. Lots of them.
This has affected both the way she interacts with her friends at school and the energy she puts out. I met with her teachers yesterday to discuss her recent requests to return to home schooling. I had sent an email and wanted to get their perspectives. Mooch has been writing me “I Miss You” notes from school each day and giving them to me when she gets in the car. She has also complained about a girl in her class, who really drives her up the chalkboard. Repeatedly she states that there is no one to play with, yet she’s constantly invited on play dates. Mooch has had nothing but horrible things to say about school and the curriculum this entire year. These things are difficult to hear when we are paying the tuition we pay.
Well, apparently, her teachers had noticed the same pattern. The class meets once per week for “Pats and Spats,” where children are encouraged to speak up and compliment or bring up a concern they have with another student. This process is done in a very safe environment. Mooch almost never GIVES any pats. In fact, she rarely says anything. Her teacher said Mooch had shared with her that she “doesn’t believe in the process, because kids do the same old things when they get back on the yard.” She does, however, like to RECEIVE pats. The other day, her teacher saw her playing, laughing and having a great time with at least five other girls on the yard, and when they came in for pats, Mooch had no recollection of that. The good times just don’t stand out to her. Just after enjoying herself, she said, “No one ever wants to play with me.”
I found the two tools that one of her teachers has been using to be very useful, so I thought I’d share them here! I’ve been using them for the past two days now, and we have had really great evenings.
1. She guides her conversations with Mooch now (almost like leading the witness).
For instance, instead of “How was your birthday this weekend?” she asked, “What fun things did you do for your birthday this weekend?” Mooch lit up with energy, and responded with all of the wonderful things that happened. Normally, she would focus right in on the number of times she fell on her roller skates.
She then follows up with “What awesome presents did you get?” All the while, she is smiling at Mooch and encouraging positive energetic responses.
As parents, we are often tired. We do care, but when we listen to our kids tell us about their day our responses are on auto-pilot, “Uh-huh. That’s great, honey. Cool.” They can pick up on the dry energy.
2. When she comes in from recess and lunch recess, she asks her to tell her two great things that happened at recess that day. I now use this in the car instead of, “How was your day?” We also use it at the dinner table now as well. It is so much more uplifting. Last night, instead of hearing about the same two co-workers that get on his nerves we learned about a pending partnership between Komplicated and Cal State LA (I can’t share details. Sorry.)
It is difficult for parents to own up to the damage that we’re doing to our children. Much of it is very subtle. We don’t want to think of ourselves as harming them in anyway, and we do the very best we can with the tools that we have at the time. One is never too old for a paradigm shift.
Workin’ Wednesdays: Renaissance Mujer
Revised Renaissance Mujer logo. I delivered it this afternoon. We’ll see! *fingers crossed*
Tuesdays With Mooch & Fuss: Mooch Turns 8
First of all, brace yourself, because Mooch’s birthday was a three-day affair. She didn’t have a party this year (Again, I only do parties for milestone years — 1,3,5,10, 13, 16, and 18), but she certainly had fun. I’ll try to keep it brief so you can just look at all of the pictures — you know, photo journal style.
Saturday, Mooch took a roller skating class at World on Wheels, and then skated with two of her Rites of Passage sisters — Ayo and Zen. Ayo got Mooch the book Dork Diaries, which is kind of like Diary of a Wimpy Kid for girls. Then the girls went for lunch at Vegan Glory, where I fell in love with Larb (Laab) Tofu salad. Next, I came home and washed/blow-dried her hair, so my friend, Saudeka, could press and curl it. Mooch requested “the same two ponytails from the wedding.” It looked really good, and it is actually lasting well.
When she got home from getting her hair done, she was surprised by this brand new bike and a hallway full of yellow balloons. She was shocked, because “it was so random.”
The next day, she and Zen (who shares a close birthday — January 8th) went to K-1 Speed in Torrance to go go-cart racing. These aren’t your mama’s little put put go-carts. Mooch felt like she was in Nascar.
We fed the girls pizza and surprised them with non-vegan chocolate treats after their race. They exchanged gifts that night and here is what Zen got for Mooch. We got her skinny jeans, shoes, and a Barbie Doll.
Monday, Mooch’s class went on a walking tour of downtown Los Angeles. She learned the history of the Millennium Biltmore Hotel, Million Dollar Theater, Pershing Square, and Angel’s Flight, which she rode. Her teacher took them ice skating on her dime at Pershing Square as a treat for being so attentive during the tour! I don’t have pictures of that. Sorry.
On her actual birthday, she wore a yellow shirt, blue crinoline skirt and pink and black tights to school. When I picked her up, the music box she’s been asking for was waiting in the seat (Well, technically she asked for a music box with a black fairy in it, but they don’t make those, so I had to get a Princess Tiana one from Sears. Go ahead and check if you’d like). I love random surprises and treats. I also took her to Veggie Grill and got her favorite kids’ meal, but we ate in the car on the way home, because if you stay in Santa Monica past four, you won’t get home without a traffic headache.
Tonight we ate cupcakes, and did our family birthday circle tradition, where the child carries the globe around a candle representing the sun. Mooch went around eight times, and we talked about her life at each age. Then she opened a few more presents — clothes and coupons from us for time alone with each parent.
I told her that she had advanced to an allowance, so we would no longer be doing our store set-up. I, therefore, gave her its remaining few contents for her birthday today, and we’ll start fresh with her allowance next week once I get the responsibilities chart together. The store had left in it a trivia game, Hello Kitty earrings, two clipboards, pens, and a pencil holder.
I ran her a special birthday bubble bath with candles and tucked her in.
Marital Mondays: Fried Chicken
M: Why aren’t you typing yet? It’s midnight.
H: I’m backing up first — hence the strange noises my machine is making.
M: Well, while it’s doing that, can you go make me a sandwich please?
H: (agitated with spastic arm making dribbling motion) Baby, I’m I’m reading and searching for for for–
M: (calmly)You’re multitasking.
H: (relieved) Yes, thank you.
M: You don’t have to get all worked up when I ask you for something. You just ran my blood pressure up, and now I can’t stop thinking about how I just wasted a brief bout of high blood pressure on a conversation about a damn sandwich. I could have been eating bacon-wrapped fried chicken for the last two minutes if I’d know the last 30 seconds were going to take a whole year off of the end of my life anyway.
H: I’m sorry, baby. I’m just swamped. (long pause) Wait. What?
Film Fridays: Sh@t White Girls Say … To Black Girls
I want to keep this video right here where I can find it at all times.
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