The Joys of Boys | Inspired Homeschooling

November 21, 2014 Book Reviews: Books for Parents, Encouragement, Parenting, Preschoolers, The Joys of Boys, Toddlers Post a Comment

Is there something wrong with my kid?

A friend came to me today with concerns about her nephew. Well, she’s not concerned, but her sister-in-law is. The child just turned three and is, apparently, a bit of a handful. She was asked not to bring him back to the church nursery unless she was going to stay with him. Ouch.

Sis-in-law is now concerned about her child. She’s wondering if he might be autistic.

Now, I obviously have the barest bone sketch of this child, and I am in no way going to attempt to offer a diagnosis. But I did want to offer some general advice to anyone wondering, “Is there something wrong with my kid?”

People who know me know that I hate the idea of labelling a kid. Especially a young kid. Especially an “all boy boy” that may just be nothing more than what I like to call “boy squared.”

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But sometimes having a label helps you find the resources you need to live in peace with your child. When a parent is struggling with a child, I like to encourage the parent to read a bit about a number of different labels and see if any of them seem to fit the child or if any of the literature for a particular diagnosis offers strategies that are helpful with the child.

If you do eventually decide to pursue a diagnosis or professional help, this sort of preliminary research can be really in articulating your concerns to professionals and in guiding you to the right professionals and interventions.

I’m going to recommend some of my favorite books for help with parenting the child that makes you ask “what in the world is wrong with my child?” The books are written for kids with a variety of labels, and if you have a kid that makes you scratch your head or throw your hands up in despair, you might find that one or more of them describes your child and helps you better understand his behavior.

Your n-Year-Old. These books (Your One-Year-Old, Your Two-Year-Old, etc.) are classics in child development. They are small, quick reads, and they will almost certainly leave you feeling that someone has been peeping in your windows and watching your child. These books are a great place to start because you may just find that your child’s behavior is completely within the realm of normal. These are not parenting books or how to books, they simply describe typical child behavior. Parents almost always find them very reassuring reads.

Raising Your Spirited Child. The “spirited trait” will often apply to any child causing a parent frustration. I love this book because it helps normalize the spirited behavior, helps explain the motivation for it, and helps a parent start to value their child’s temperament rather than fight against it. It’s a great place to start for a parent who is struggling. I offer a full review of this book here.

The Explosive Child. I love this book. I hate the title, but I love the book. This is a really solid, really readable introduction to understanding difficult behavior in children. If your kids seems impervious to time-outs, ‘natural consequences,’ and all of the other traditional advice offered up by parenting books, read this book. It will give you a whole new way of approaching your child’s challenging behavior. The strategies respects and empowers both child and adult. This is a great read.

The Out of Sync Child Has Fun. This is the companion book to The Out of Sync Child, the original, definitive “text book” on sensory processing disorder. I like “…. Has Fun” because it is a very practical guide with lots of suggestions for things to do with your child. The first chapter defines and explains sensory processing disorder, and the rest of the book has super fun, super do-able activities that let you provide occupational therapy for your child at home. As with the “spirited” label, a lot of kids with “issues” will have “sensory issues.” This book will help you figure out if your child does, and if so, what you can start to do about it.

Living with Intensity. This is a great introduction to gifted children. I find that many parents don’t understand that their uber intense, seemingly scattered, and even destructive children are actually gifted kids who don’t present in the typical “reading-at-age-3” way. It’s worth considering that this is what’s going on with your child.

Misdiagnosis and Dual Diagnoses of Gifted Children and Adults: ADHD, Bipolar, Ocd, Asperger’s, Depression, and Other Disorders. Gifted kids are often misdiagnosed as having one of these ‘popular’ diagnoses. It’s also not uncommon for a gifted child to also have one of these disorders. (Google ‘twice exceptional’ for tons of information on this.) This book gives a good description of each of these disorders, explains why children are often diagnosed with one of these disorders rather than identified as gifted, and helps a parent start to tease out if their kid might gifted, have the disorder, or both. This is a good overview of these common childhood issues. It doesn’t claim that every child with this disorder is gifted, or that these disorders don’t actually exist. It just helps a parent start to sort out what might be going on with their kid.

Okay. That’s enough. If you can even skim these books, you’ll have a much better understanding of what might be ‘wrong’ with your kid. You’ll have some new tools in your belt, and you’ll have a better idea of what you might want to Google the next time you ask, ‘what in the world is wrong with my kid?!?!’

September 17, 2014 Education Theory, Our Homeschool, Parenting, The Joys of Boys Post a Comment

Using Incentives in Your Homeschool

Yesterday was an agonizing day. I had a certain amount of work I wanted my oldest to achieve. Grueling assignments such as writing 6 sentences and completing a 10 minute spelling lesson. Finishing 5 problems on Khan Academy. You know, things that clearly no reasonable person would ask a 4th grader to do.

There was drama. There were tears. There was eye rolling and yelling. There were threats. And there was googling of schools for kids with ADD.

And I found the school. And if we started eating ramen and selling our blood, we might be able to afford the school.

But I thought, if this school can do it, then it can be done. There are methods they use that I can learn too, right?

I know from my history with this child that he responds exceedingly well to incentives. He used to chew on his shirt. Constantly. I told him if he went three weeks without chewing on his shirt, he could have the Lego Movie video game for the XBox. He never chewed on his shirt again. It was infuriatingly simple. If it was that easy for him to stop, why didn’t he just stop before?

Smart But Scattered, a great book on how to help kids with executive functioning challenges, had taught me that working for incentives is actually an executive functioning strength that my son has. If the price is right, can do just about anything.

Here’s the thing. I HATE incentives. I feel like if you can do something, you should just do it because it’s the right thing to do. It seems to me, that if you can do something for an incentive, then you can do it, and you should do it without a reward.

But apparently, doing the right thing, or just getting it done, is not enough of an incentive for my son to leave behind the incredibly exciting world in his imagination to write 6 sentences about the lost colony of Roanoke. Because sitting in a chair all day really isn’t torture for him. His mind is a fascinating place to be, and it keeps him perfectly well entertained.

This morning he woke up asking what he could do to earn more money. He has finally developed an appreciation for all of the ~~useless crap~~ amazing treasures money can buy him. Like machetes with fake blood and nerf guns and large books from the thrift store that he can turn into secret hiding spots. This is great because when a kid wants money, a parent can generally get him to do things he might not otherwise do willingly.

I told him I’d think about it. I’m a bit of a miser, and I don’t want to just go handing money out like some kind of money fairy or something. I mean, it doesn’t grow on trees now, does it?

It wasn’t long before I’d asked him to do something and he gave me attitude about it. Inspiration. “Every time I have to ask you to do something more than once, you owe me a quarter.”

Ha! See? I’m making money this way, not handing it out.

Later, we were doing school work and he started whining “It’s too hard!” Boom. “Every time you whine about school work, you owe me a quarter.”

I ran down to the basement and grabbed a bag of poker chips and two paper cups. I wrote “Henry” on one of them and “Mom” on the other. I filled the “Henry” cup with 20 poker chips – each worth a quarter. I took two quarters for his earlier infractions.

Because I’ve been trained in such things I know that a strictly punitive system is not likely to be effective for long. So I started offering incentives. “If you write 4 sentences before I come back downstairs, I’ll give you a quarter.” Because I’m a mean mom, I am incapable of a strictly rewards based system. So along with the carrot I proffered a stick. “If you haven’t written at least 2, you owe me a quarter.”

I told him, “Each chip is a quarter. There are five dollars worth of chips in here. You can gain and lose them based on your behavior, and I will pay you on Sunday. Each Monday morning you’ll start out with 20 new chips.” And that, ladies and gentleman, is a glowing example of my stellar making-it-up-as-I-go-along parenting.

But you know what? He finished everything I wanted him to do by noon. Yesterday, we didn’t finish until five o’clock. That’s right, I bought five hours of extra time with my system. Not bad for 5 bucks.

I will admit, though, that I’m still uncomfortable with the system. I have learned repeatedly that this sort of thing is super effective for my son, but I’ve also read enough Alfie Kohn to feel that this sort of “manipulation” is somehow damaging to my son or to our relationship.

And so I struggle between what I desperately want to believe philosophically, and what I see creates peace and harmony and a happy son in reality.

I’m curious. Have any of you have had success with using incentives in your homeschool? Did it create any unintended consequences that caused problems down the line?

August 21, 2014 Book Reviews: Books for Parents, Homeschool Science, The Joys of Boys, Uncategorized Post a Comment

Sandbox Scientist: Real Science Activities for Little Kids {Book Review}

If you’ve been following my posts on scheduling, you may have noticed that Thomas and Henry have a block called “Science Box Time.” This is a time of open ended science exploration facilitated by the handy little book Sandbox Scientist: Real Science Activities for Little Kids.

I first discovered this book when I randomly checked it out from the library. I loved it, returned it, and forgot the name of it. A bit later I despaired when I couldn’t recall the name of it. All of my vague descriptions to the nice librarian and her creative searches yielded nothing. Then one day the title just came to me and I immediately jumped on Amazon and ordered my own copy of it.

This book is very nearly perfect for teaching science to young children. And by young, I mean anywhere from age 2 up to middle school.

In the early years, science is not about learning scientific facts. It is about the formation of scientific habits. It’s learning to think like a scientist. Science is learning to ask questions and to look for the answers through exploration and observation. Raising a scientist involves nurturing curiosity, and encouraging creativity. It means empowering children to discover, learn, and prove things for themselves rather than just accepting what they’re told.

Science asks “Why? Really? What happens if I. . . ? How do you know? Show me. Let me see. Let me try. Prove it.” Science sounds an awful lot like an impudent teenager.

Sandbox Scientist provides a list of science boxes you can assemble yourself that encourage children to ask these questions and to seek the answers for themselves through exploration and observation. The boxes work perfectly in a home environment because the materials they call for are cheap and easy to find.

I am using the book to plan out six weeks worth of boxes at a time. For our first six weeks I went through and pulled boxes calling for water. This is not because I’m doing a water theme (though you could certainly use the book that way), but rather because I want to take advantage of the warm weather while we’ve got it. By assembling six weeks worth of boxes at a time, I can make one trip to the hardware store and/or dollar store to get what we need and put everything together at one time. My boxes are now ready to go when I need them.

Yesterday my kids played with the Ice Box. One of the best things about the ideas in this book is that they are suitable for my 3 year old and my 9 year old. They approach the material in different ways, and they learn from each other in the process.

The Ice Box contained large blocks of ice made from yogurt tubs and 1/2 gallon milk cartons, spoons, forks, knives, paint brushes, watercolor paint, and squirt bottles of warm water. I put it all out in a couple of large aluminum trays on a sheet in the back yard and invited the kids out to play.

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The children had a blast observing the different properties of the ice. “This block is clear!” “This one is cloudy!” “Hey look, this one has holes in it?” “Let’s make the hole bigger.”

They also enjoyed painting the ice and watching the patterns of the swirls as the painted ice melted. They observed the effects of spraying a stream of water on the ice blocks versus spraying a mist of ice onto them. They enjoyed chipping and chiseling the ice into smaller pieces to make them melt faster.

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The boys did not happen to discover that they could melt the ice more quickly by using the magnifying glasses to focus the sun’s heat onto the ice. I think a small suggestion from me on using the magnifying glasses in this way could have extended the exploration a bit. As it was, they worked with the science box for a good 20 minutes before it devolved into a squirt bottle fight in the back yard. All in all, I thought our first science box was a success.

March 12, 2014 Encouragement, Parenting, Preschoolers, The Joys of Boys 1 Comment

You gotta laugh or you’ll cry

Did you ever have one of those days? I remember in college when “one of those days” involved a flat tire, or locking my keys in the car, or maybe running out of cigarettes. There was the day I locked my keys in the car and then got rear ended by a bus. That wasn’t a great day. But these days, one of “those days” is so much. . . grosser.

Today was already starting off on iffy footing. I didn’t get much sleep last night because Thomas was up coughing and Helen, who pukes anytime her temperature rises over 99.0, was up throwing up around midnight. And then at 4am we had giant, strange dogs in our back yard barking as if the world was coming to an end. It’s a little disconcerting to discover giant, strange dogs in your back yard at 4am.

So I finally get back to sleep only to be awoken by coughing and then fell back asleep again until finally waking for good at 7am. Which, two days ago, was 6am. So I’m tired.

But I had to go to the phone store, because the microphone on my new magic phone broke. Which means I can’t make phone calls. Which doesn’t feel particularly safe when I’m home with three kids.

So even though I know they’re not in tip top shape, I head to the phone store and hope and pray for the best. We left just minutes after cleaning up a poopy potty training accident, so I figured the timing was good. With any luck, we could get there and back without a bodily fluid incident.

I already had my new phone, I just didn’t have the tricksy little device I needed to pop out the old SIM card so I could activate my new phone. Oh Verizon, the trouble that could have been saved if you’d simply included this tiny piece of metal with my new phone.

So I pack up the three kids and tell them to try not to cough too much in public because it makes people uncomfortable. Helen is wimpering because, God bless her, she really doesn’t feel well. Thomas is provoking Henry into playing Batman, and Henry, who really, really should know better, is playing along.

Then Thomas gets worked up and starts coughing. Okay, settle down, dude. And coughing. No, really, take a deep breath. And coughing. And, oh crap, gagging, and oh, oh no, oh, vomit. Crap. Catch it in his shirt. Wait there’s more. Okay. Oh shit. Okay Helen, Henry, you stay here. Don’t move. Carry Thomas to the car, catching as much as I can in his shirt. Oh good. Now it’s on my shirt. Oh and my jeans. Yay!

Out in the parking lot I get Thomas’s shirt off of him, without getting too much puke in his hair. I pull out the frozen diaper wipes to wipe us both up as best I can and thank God that, thanks to the joys of potty training, I have an extra shirt for Thomas in the car (no pants, we’ve used up all of those). All the while I’m laughing just a bit hysterically because, well, it’s better to be the crazy lady laughing with a half naked preschooler in the strip mall parking lot than the crazy lady sobbing with a half naked preschooler in the strip mall parking lot.

So we head back in wreaking of vomit to collect my two older children and my phone. As I walk through the door the nice man hands me the tricksy little device I need to pop out the old SIM card and tells me I can go ahead and do that and someone will be right with me to activate the phone. Oh that poor someone.

I really felt like I had to explain to the nice young employee why I smelled so bad. I’m trying to laugh and make the situation as natural as possible, but we smell horrible and there’s still vomit in my kid’s hair.

To his credit, this guy was really, really nice and didn’t act disgusted at all. I joked that not only was this not the first time I’ve been puked on in public, it’s not even the first time I’ve been puked on in public by this kid.* He said, “And I thought my job was hard!” I said, “Well, you have to deal with crazy people like us, so yeah, it is hard.” He then told me, that we aren’t the crazy people. So now I feel really sorry for the guy.

The activation process was mercifully fast and we were free to take our odious insanity home for the day. Why, God, did I think I could pull off such an advanced parenting feat as taking three sick kids to the Verizon store? Kids. They’ll keep you humble.

*A short list of the places Thomas has puked outside of our home: the front porch of our house, Safe Splash Swim School – in the pool, the “dining room” at Wendy’s, Chili’s, the parking lot of the grocery store. I’m sure I’m forgetting one or two.

July 27, 2011 Encouragement, Parenting, The Joys of Boys 3 Comments

Six years of motherhood

Watching your children grow up is a strange thing. Just six years ago I became a mother when I gave birth to this beautiful bundle of baby boy. I was terrified and elated. And six years later I still experience those conflicting emotions on a daily basis.

He’s no longer a beautiful bundle of baby boy. He’s up to my chest and long and lean. Though he is still breathtakingly beautiful.

When he was a tiny baby his inner workings were a mystery to me. I did my best to guess when he was hungry or tired. Looking back through the lens of experience I now realize that as often as he was hungry or tired he might have been frustrated or bored.

He’s always been a very curious boy. And a very thoughtful boy. Strangers commented on his pensive gaze, what was often labeled “seriousness,” almost as often as they commented on his striking beauty. One friendly soul remarked that once he started talking I’d be in for it. “He’s storing up all the questions he can’t yet ask.” I believe she was right.

When he started talking at a year old he did so with a perfection not often seen in such tiny children. By the time he was three, he sounded like a 10 year old. The only two words that he has ever mispronounced were “cholocolate” and “dubya-lu.” He still says “dubya-lu” and it melts my heart every time.

He spoke clearly and often. He still has a lot to say. But what is sometimes maddening is that, just as when he was a tiny baby, I still don’t always know what he’s thinking. He’s still a deep thinker. But he doesn’t always choose to share those thoughts with me.

It’s tough as a mother. I want to know all that goes on inside his little brain. I want to know his hopes and fears, his dreams and worries. It is distressing to me that he doesn’t pour his heart out to me. If something is bothering him, he wants me close. He wants my physical presence, but he doesn’t want to talk. Maybe this is a Mars/Venus thing. Maybe it’s an introvert thing. I don’t know. But I have to stop myself at times from bullying him into telling me what he’s thinking.

The hardest part is knowing that the older he gets, the less I will know him. For now I have ways of getting information from others. But I won’t always be able to ask his friend’s mom to get the story from her child. I will have to trust in our relationship enough to know that he will open up to me if and when he needs to. That he will know that I am always there and willing to listen.

July 13, 2011 Parenting, The Joys of Boys Post a Comment

May the Force be with you

We had to run to Target today and while we were there Henry’s birthday money finally burned a hole in his pocket. He got a “really awesome” double light saber. I’ll admit it’s pretty cool. If you’re into light sabers.

After Target we stopped at Vitamin Cottage. The kids were pushing their little carts along behind me and as we turned the corner I spotted a little boy, about 8 years old, doing some tricky maneuvers with a Star Wars umbrella. I smiled and wondered how Henry would react when he saw him.

Sure enough, he struck up a conversation about his new light sabers and all the ins and outs of Star Wars and Clone Wars and who were the good guys and who were the bad guys and who were bad guys that used to be good guys.

I let him talk for a few minutes before encouraging him along, and then we ended up in line behind the little boy where they resumed the conversation.

This whole exchange made me smile. It was neat to see my son spot a fellow traveler and approach him to make a connection.

December 21, 2010 Encouragement, Parenting, The Joys of Boys 2 Comments

That Kid’s Mom

Quirky. Gifted. Highly Gifted. Twice Exceptional. A Handful. Hyper. Distractible. Bright. High Energy. Intense. Funny. Sensory Integration Disorder. Sensory Processing Disorder. Highly Sensitive. Fine Motor Delay.

Some combination of the above labels would likely be used by the public education system in order to classify and process my oldest son. He’s kind of hard to pin down, but you know him when you see him. Most classes have a kid like him. He’s the one that can’t sit still. He’s the one pretending his markers are rockets and creating an elaborate story with sound effects while the rest of the class is drawing shapes like they’re supposed to. He’s the one that won’t paint because 1) he can’t do the representational drawings at the level of his classmates and he doesn’t want to fail and 2) he doesn’t want to get his hands dirty.

And he’s the kid that eats his shirt during the holiday concert.

Though we homeschool, we send Henry to a one-day-a-week homeschool enrichment program so that he gets to participate in things like choir and school concerts.

Last week we packed up the family, including one week old baby Thomas, and headed over to see Henry’s choir debut. His music teacher had emailed me a few days earlier to let me know that Henry hadn’t seemed to want to participate in the concert during the dress rehearsal. Henry and I had been talking about it. He seemed excited, and so I continued to talk it up as something that was going to be great.

When I arrived at the school with his white concert shirt, he, predictably, refused to wear it. That was fine with everyone. He could wear his favorite “blue stripey” shirt – the one shirt he’ll wear even if we’re at home. (Generally, at home he wears jammies.) We all just wanted him to perform.

Henry insisted that I sit with him and his class while he waited for his turn on stage. I sat holding his hand. We talked about the butterflies in his tummy. We talked about how the big kids were nervous too. We talked about how much fun the party would be after he performed. We talked about how awesome he was going to feel after he did something hard.

He told me he was going to “screw up all the courage” he could and go up there on stage. And he did. Because he was one of the smaller kids, and because he insisted on standing with his best friends (naturally), he ended up front and center on the stage. A blue-shirted kid in a sea of white shirts.

The concert began with his little friend waving a prop in his face. He konked her on the head. Then, during most of the first song, he stared blankly into space. But then he came to life – singing his little heart out and toying with his blue stripey shirt. Then he was chewing on his blue stripey shirt.

And then, somehow, he managed to work the stretched out, saliva soaked collar of that blue stripey shirt down over both shoulders. For a few suspenseful seconds I sat laughing but terrified of what would come next. His music teacher turned to me with a big smile and big “oh my God!” eyes. I just sat laughing.

I sat there thinking, “That’s my son. I’m ‘that kid’s’ mom.” It made me smile. It made me feel tremendously blessed. It came to me that God has given me this particular child to raise. It was no accident. I am meant to be his mom. He is meant to be my kid. We are meant to learn from each other things that we could not learn from anyone else.

As I sat pondering what, precisely, I was supposed to be learning from this particular incident, Henry’s shirt returned to it’s proper location and the kids began singing that ridiculous “skidamarink a dink a dink” song. When they got to the “IIIIIII Loooooove You!” line, my little boy turned his entire body to where I was sitting, looked me right in the eye, and pointed right at me. If you are a mother, or you know me at all, I don’t have to tell you that I cried. At that moment, I was the proudest, happiest momma on the planet. Yes sir, that’s my baby! He eats his shirt, he undresses during concerts, and he. loves. me.

I was so proud of him for screwing up his courage and doing something so hard. I was so proud of me for finding the humor in the shirt-eating strip-tease, rather than being embarrassed by it. I was proud of my husband for also rolling with it rather than cringing at a public reminder of his own childhood awkwardness. And I was so happy to know that my son loves me. That he loved me in that moment because I was there to support him through something hard. Loved me because I helped him do something he was proud of doing.

And he was quite proud of himself. He talked about how much he loved singing and how he’s going to do lots of concerts. He asked his dad to be in a choir with him so they could do concerts together.

It was a great day for our family. One that drove home the rewards of doing something hard and of loving each other unconditionally. It’s not always easy being “that kid’s” mom, but the joy that comes in the good moments is worth all the struggle.

September 26, 2010 Parenting, The Joys of Boys 3 Comments

Flash Back: Stomping Turtles

Yesterday I posted on Facebook that I had driven past a guy selling baby turtles out of the back of a truck. A couple of old friends warned me to keep my son away from the turtles. The story that prompted this admonition is now 4 years old. But it’s pretty funny and I thought I’d share it here for those who didn’t know Henry and I then.

When Henry was just a week past his 1st birthday, and had been walking for just a few days, I took him to the zoo. We went into the children’s petting zoo where they had a very large turtle wandering around. Henry was fascinated by this turtle. He kept following it around while I spotted him to keep him steady on his new land legs. Except at one point, he lunged forward and stepped on a, ahem, rather delicate part of the turtle. The next day I was still so upset by the incident I posted about it on my parenting forum.

Kind of sill maybe, but bugging me

Yesterday at the zoo, I think Henry stepped on a turtle’s peni$. The turtle had extended it for whatever reason and as it started to walk away it became visible. Henry took a step toward it and stepped on it. The thing that’s troubling me is that the peni$ looked a lot different after Henry stepped on it.

I feel really, really horrible about this. The petting zoo attendant saw it happen and didn’t say anything. I was really close and trying to keep Henry from hurting the animals.

Anyway, there’s nothing I can do about it, but I feel sick about it.

Not sure what I want to hear, I guess this is just a confession. =P

I was genuinely concerned about this poor turtle and my conscience was really troubling me. The initial responses to my confession took me off guard.

— LOL! Don’t know what to say??? ETA Can you call the zoo and ask about it, to help you feel better and see if anything really happened?

— Is it bad that I’m laughing so hard I can hardly type?

And so I responded.

I know it sounds funny, but if you’d seen that poor turtle’s peni$. . .

What if they tell me the turtle is irreperably damaged and in terrible pain? How do you know if a turtle is in pain? I mean, he didn’t scream or anything when Henry stepped on him. . .

Maybe it would make me feel better to call.

But, oh my, do you think person answering the phone would think I was just a complete freak?

“Um, hi, yeah, I was there yesterday, and my toddler stepped on the petting zoo turtle’s peni$. And the peni$ looked, ummmm, different after he stepped on it. And I, uh, googled “turtle genitalia” to get pictures of what a turtle peni$ should look like, and, uh, it did not look like that after my son stepped on it. So, um, I was wondering if the turtle is okay.”

This, apparently, did not help my fellow forum goers stop laughing.

— Stop! I think it’s the mental image of a turtle walking around with his peni$ sticking out…

— You just gave me my morning laugh! If it’s bugging you, call. It’s nice that you care so much:)

— LOL OMG I am laughing so hard. If the zoo attendant saw it occur and wasn’t concerned then I would just let the zoo deal with the turtles peni$. I think they WOULD laugh at you if you called with your concerns about the turtle.LOL

— I am finally home from work and can let myself ROFLOL. I have tears in my eyes. I do feel a little guilty for laughing at your predicament. And now a picture ! I just couldn’t figure out in my mind how this happened. This is definately a memorable board moment. I am sure he has received treatment and good care from his vets.

There were some who tried to console me through their laughter.

— Turtles (that I have been around) are capable of making sounds. I would expect if Henry had hurt his parts that you would have heard something.

— I don’t think they would think you were a freak. They would think you were a caring person.

— Zoos are very quick to give animals the veterinary care they need. If the turtle is injured, it’s being cared for. And obviously Henry isn’t aware of what he did, so even if you found out that he HAD hurt the animal, what good would that do? Would it make you feel better?

–I just can’t help myself Jessica…ROFLOL

I do hope the turtle wasn’t harmed, but if it’s that easy for a toddler to inadvertently injure a turtle’s pen*s, then the zoo should know better than to put them in the petting zoo!!

— I’m really sorry. I know you feel bad, and I think your concern is very sweet. But you are responsible for a near miss with my bladder 🙂

And then my personal favorite:

–– Are you sure the turtle just didn’t have a bowel movement?

Um, yeah. I was very, very sure. I know what squished poo looks like.

And then, of course, there was the person with intimate knowledge of turtles who made the statement which caused the thread to take a fateful turn.

Turtles do not have penises. Both the male and female have a cloaca (opening in the tail); the male’s is shaped differently and during ejaculation something does protrude a bit, but it’s not something he’d be walking around with hanging out.

Now, this woman is typically very knowledgeable on such topics. But I had to beg to differ with her on this one. I didn’t want to have to go there, but I had to defend myself.

I beg to differ. I sent this to Kate via email, but here it is for anyone who may be interested.

[unfortunately the link is no longer active]

Scroll down to the pic of the turtle in his water dish. May not be a peni$ per se (sure doesn’t look like one I”ve ever seen) but this is what I saw and what Henry stepped on. And he was definitely walking around with it hanging out.

Now, the bulbous things hanging out of the turtle in that one pic – that’s what Henry stepped on. And they were flat and weird looking after he stepped on them. . .

ETA: I can’t belive I am now responsible for bringing turtle p * r n to the board. — hangs head in shame —

Our resident turtle expert graciously conceded the point.

— Yikes! My aquatic turtle is, alas, not well-endowed . . . LOL.

You want to see a picture too, don’t you? I know you do. If you don’t, scroll quickly because here it comes.

Yes, the reactions on the board were similar to yours.

— AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

— I would have completely mistaken that thingie for a tail, if it were me!

— that is absolutely unbelievable! The things that I never knew about turtles…

— From that picture, things look very… loose inside. If that makes sense? I would guess that maybe things just… shifted and made it look different.

And the woman who suggested it was poo apologized for thinking I was that dense

— My goodness, that definitely doesn’t look like poo. –snort– I’m not laughing at you, honest, I was just wondering.

And then someone did what we like to do in our culture. She blamed the victim.

— Weird. That picture clarifies what happened, but I still believe that if the turtle is injured, keepers will notice and call in the zoo vets. At least when I volunteered at a zoo, that’s how it worked. They are _very_ strict about the health of animals.

You know, he shouldn’t be walking around with it hanging out, should he?* It almost makes me wonder if there was something wrong with the turtle to begin with.

* By “shouldn’t” I mean in a physiological/behavioral sense, not a moral sense, of course. We all know that walking around with a penis hanging out violates modesty norms in North American human culture. The question is, what about turtle culture?

At this point the entire thread was a huge joke with ROFLOLing, –snort–ing, etc. My nickname on the board became “Mother of the Turtle Penis Stomper,” and to this day, four years later, people still bring it up.

For those readers who are still concerned about the turtle, as far as I know he’s fine. At the time, I decided just to trust in the excellent care I know the zoo staff provides for all of its animals. (Translation, I was a big chicken and decided not to call.) But I did return to the zoo about a week after the accident. The turtle was still in the petting zoo and apparently fine. At least I didn’t notice any bandages or anything.

August 10, 2010 Our Faith, The Joys of Boys Post a Comment

Whatever is pure . . .

We’ve recently had some run-ins with superheroes at our house. It seemed harmless enough at first, but it has started to cause problems with behavior. Spiderman recently swung from his web (i.e. the shower curtain) and ended up in the ER with 4 staples in his head. That was clearly a problem, but the greater problem, really, has been the physical aggression and the level of disrespect and the mood swings that seem to have escalated since we’ve invited these wonder men into our home. But it was the ER visit that made me start really thinking about it.

Yesterday, at H1’s request, we got a copy of some Batman cartoons from the library. I watched one with him, and truly it was horrible. Very dark, very violent. But H1 loves the excitement. I spent a lot of time yesterday pondering the role of this sort of entertainment in the life our family. I asked God to speak to me about it. It came to me that this is just the beginning of our job as parents in determining what forms of entertainment are appropriate for our children, and we have to learn how to discern what is good and right for our family. Would we let our son surf porn online just because “everyone’s doing it?”

Still, taking something a child loves away from him is never easy as a parent. At least it’s not for me. I dread conflict. I dread tantrums. It’s a weakness of mine as a parent and an area I know God is asking me to grow in.

As nap time approached today (when H1 watches TV while H2 naps), I was dreading the meltdown that would come when I informed H1 that there would be no Batman today. I thought. I prayed. I fretted. Then I remembered the following passage:

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. (Philippians 4:8)

I decided to read it to H1. I asked God to guide me. I prayed to H1’s guardian angel. When he asked me to put on Batman, I asked him to first sit on the couch with me and read something from the Bible. I told them that they were words written by Paul, who used to be Saul. (Saul’s conversion story made a huge impact on him and he’s always remembered it.)

I read it to him and then I summarized it again for him, telling him that God wants us to spend our time with things that are true, honorable, right, pure, lovely and excellent. I told him that I’d been thinking about the TV shows we’ve been watching and I don’t think that Batman fits into this category. I waited for the protest. He was quiet for a moment and then he said, “It’s not true, but it is honorable.” I said, “Well, beating people up isn’t honorable and Batman does a lot of beating people up.” He was quiet again for a second and then he picked up a copy of Popular Mechanics for Kids and said, “How about we watch this instead?”

I wanted to weep! I told him I was very proud of him for choosing a more suitable program and he is now happily watching something I feel very good about.

I never cease to be amazed by these miracles. I wish I could remember that when we seek to do the Lord’s will and ask for His help, He will make the seemingly impossible not only possible, but easy.

Thanks be to God.

June 4, 2010 Our Faith, The Joys of Boys 6 Comments

A Mass-ive Headache

I have always felt called to attend daily Mass with my children. Not everyday, but at least once a week. I’ve never done it. Well, I may have taken #1 once or twice before #2 was born, but it’s certainly never been part of my routine.

Recently, daily Mass attendance was a topic of conversation on a Catholic homeschooling board I am a part of, and I heard once again that this is something I need to do. “If today you hear God’s voice, harden not your heart.” I’ve been working on instituting more discipline into my life, and I have somewhat of a fledgling weekly routine, so I decided Thursday would be my day for taking the kids to Mass. Today is Thursday.

I have to tell you, I was not looking forward to this. My kids are not the sweet little angels that fold their hands neatly in their lap and sit, stand and kneel with the congregation. My 5yo boy likes to alternate giving me kisses and an angelic “aren’t I being good?” smile with flopping his body around in the pew pretending he’s just been shot. My 2yo girl likes to alternate “singing” loudly from the hymnal with digging through my purse to find my lipstick to smear all over her face while I’m attempting to pray.

They’re cute. They’re hilarious. So long as it’s not your job to keep them “still and quiet” for the duration of Mass.

Now I don’t have unreasonable expectations. I don’t expect them to actually sit still and be quiet for the entire Mass. I expect to have to remind them of appropriate behavior. But I do expect my 5yo to respond to my reminders without “sassing” me. When I ask him to sit up, I expect him to sit up, not to let his tongue hang out of his mouth and kick the pews.

By the time the final blessing rolled around I was exhausted and discouraged. A kind older woman who had been sitting behind us came and told me I have beautiful children and that she “had to chuckle” because she’s been there. She told me I was doing a good job. I appreciated her kindness, but I didn’t believe her. I felt like a miserable failure.

We went home and I put the 2yo down for a nap, and, after some quiet time, my son and I had a snack together.

Suddenly he raised his cracker, broke it in half and said, “Take this all of you and eat it. This is my body.” He turned to me and handed me half of the cracker. Then he asked, “Can the water be the blood?” Uh, sure. “Take this all of you and drink it. This is my blood.” He handed me the cup.

Then he said something I don’t quite remember about how Jesus makes him happy.

“How does Jesus make you happy?” I asked.

“He shares. He shares his body and his blood.”

Well okay then, I guess it wasn’t a complete waste of time taking him to Mass.

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