Blue and Green turned 7 a few weeks ago. I always get a little misty-eyed when I think about them getting bigger, and 7 seems so…old. But, truthfully, the event itself made me weary. When I woke up that day, I came into the kitchen and said, “Look at the birthday boys!!” Green looked at me and said in a snotty voice, “So where’s my birthday breakfast?”
Birthday breakfast?!
“What do you mean, Green?” I asked. He furrowed his brow. “Every year I’m supposed to get a special breakfast on my special day.” I growled, “Really? I didn’t get that memo.” I tossed a can of frosting onto the table in front of him. “Spread this on your Cheerios,” I said, reaching for my coffee. “Knock yourself out.”
I don’t know about you, but I remember my birthday being A DAY. With maybe a piece of cake and a song. Blue and Green expect their birthday to be an endless PARADE OF LOVE AND SUGAR. They had a party at a crazy bouncy place with 24 of their sweaty friends (Madagascar 2 cake, with two airplanes on it!!). Then there was their class party (brownies + frosting + marshmallows and candy on top!). Later, there was the celebration with their little league team (rice crispie treats!). And apparently we were supposed to take them out to dinner as well (at the Spaghetti House, where you can by Ragu covered noodles for $10 a plate. The boys say it’s SO MUCH BETTER than the kind we have at home.).
To me, Blue and Green’s 7th birthday turned out to be more of a soul-sucking drain of resources than a rite of passage. But I have to admit that something has changed in the last year. There has been a quiet shift from cute little cherubs to… boys. As they were heading out the door to school that morning, I said, “Wow. You guys are really growing up.” Blue looked at me, rolled his eyes, and said, “Well, DUH.”
Duh, indeed, but I am still shocked at all the differences. Lately, I have witnessed an increasing nonchalance about their old favorites, trucks and buses. Curious George has joined preschool favorites Dora and Diego in the Land of Forgotten Characters. They ask me to stop when I sing the song about Port-a-potties that they made up last summer. “Mommy,” Green said, “That song is hurting my ears.” “What do you mean?” I exclaimed. “You WROTE that song!” “I know,” Green answered, “but that is a kindergarten song. And we’re first graders.”
Ah, yes. Of course. First grade. The year is almost over, and I haven’t really said a thing about it, have I? I will preface my comments with the important detail that my kids like first grade. They claim that it’s way better than kindergarten. But I can’t believe that this is true. Kindergarten was newness and finger paint and potato-decorating. Kindergarten had songs and Choice Time and taxidermy.
First grade has work.
Lots of work.
To the credit of the teachers and this curriculum, my kids are certainly excelling. Last year, they were counting to 100. This year, they’re doing multiplication. Last year, it was the A-B-Cs. This year, they are in “book clubs.” But, as thrilled as I am that they are plunging ahead into the world of knowledge, I have to admit to some ambivalence. Can’t you have multiplication AND finger paint? Chapter books AND Choice Time?
I am still a weekly classroom volunteer, but I am definitely less enthusiastic. Remember volunteering last year? My job was to help kids make peacocks out of paint and to construct Irish Derby Hats out of newspaper. This year, my job has been to work with the kid who can’t focus on his math, the one who is slipping behind as his peers hurtle forward to algebra. This is what my typical volunteering experience has been like this year:
Me: Hello, Jasper! Mrs. Taskmaster wants me to help you with your double-digit addition. Then we can get to work on those fractions!
Jasper: What?
Me: Math, Jasper. Let’s do 42 + 37 + 63 + 50 + 17. Quick! In your head! Then tell me what 1/3 of the sum is.
Jasper: Who are you?
Me: I’m Blue’s mom.
Jasper: Do you even know how to do that problem?
Me: I can’t do it in my head unless I have another cup of coffee. I could, however, solve the problem with a paper and pencil. But you are not allowed to do math the way I learned it. You are supposed to intuit it.
Jasper: So you are saying that you can’t do it, aren’t you? Don’t you have a PhD?
Me: Umm….yes, but my PhD is not in math.
Jasper: I think you are a big fraud.
Jasper is right. The way that I learned how to add and subtract and multiply and divide got recycled long ago. And the way that I learned how to spell? By memorizing? Forget it. My kids are “feeling the sounds” or something like that. I wasn’t very good at the kindergarten crafts, but I find that I am even less competent at first grade academics.
To better illustrate how much things have changed, I want to compare Blue’s Mothers’ Day gift to me last year with the one that he created this year. Last year, Blue spent an afternoon at school decorating a flower pot for me. It had hearts all over it and the painted words, “I love you.” The teacher gave each child a droopy flower to plant, and Voila! I had a lovely hand-made memento of my child’s affection (Actually, the teacher did not consider what would happen to this gift when it was toted home in a backpack. What I really received was a sack full of dirt and an empty pot).
This year, Blue gave me a bubble diagram for Mother’s Day. Awww, honey, how romantic! The kids have been working on these kinds of diagrams all year. I am not sure why. I have a feeling that bubble diagrams are going to be covered on the Big State Standardized Test, and Mothers' Day is just another opportunity to practice, practice, practice.
Birthday breakfast?!
“What do you mean, Green?” I asked. He furrowed his brow. “Every year I’m supposed to get a special breakfast on my special day.” I growled, “Really? I didn’t get that memo.” I tossed a can of frosting onto the table in front of him. “Spread this on your Cheerios,” I said, reaching for my coffee. “Knock yourself out.”
I don’t know about you, but I remember my birthday being A DAY. With maybe a piece of cake and a song. Blue and Green expect their birthday to be an endless PARADE OF LOVE AND SUGAR. They had a party at a crazy bouncy place with 24 of their sweaty friends (Madagascar 2 cake, with two airplanes on it!!). Then there was their class party (brownies + frosting + marshmallows and candy on top!). Later, there was the celebration with their little league team (rice crispie treats!). And apparently we were supposed to take them out to dinner as well (at the Spaghetti House, where you can by Ragu covered noodles for $10 a plate. The boys say it’s SO MUCH BETTER than the kind we have at home.).
To me, Blue and Green’s 7th birthday turned out to be more of a soul-sucking drain of resources than a rite of passage. But I have to admit that something has changed in the last year. There has been a quiet shift from cute little cherubs to… boys. As they were heading out the door to school that morning, I said, “Wow. You guys are really growing up.” Blue looked at me, rolled his eyes, and said, “Well, DUH.”
Duh, indeed, but I am still shocked at all the differences. Lately, I have witnessed an increasing nonchalance about their old favorites, trucks and buses. Curious George has joined preschool favorites Dora and Diego in the Land of Forgotten Characters. They ask me to stop when I sing the song about Port-a-potties that they made up last summer. “Mommy,” Green said, “That song is hurting my ears.” “What do you mean?” I exclaimed. “You WROTE that song!” “I know,” Green answered, “but that is a kindergarten song. And we’re first graders.”
Ah, yes. Of course. First grade. The year is almost over, and I haven’t really said a thing about it, have I? I will preface my comments with the important detail that my kids like first grade. They claim that it’s way better than kindergarten. But I can’t believe that this is true. Kindergarten was newness and finger paint and potato-decorating. Kindergarten had songs and Choice Time and taxidermy.
First grade has work.
Lots of work.
To the credit of the teachers and this curriculum, my kids are certainly excelling. Last year, they were counting to 100. This year, they’re doing multiplication. Last year, it was the A-B-Cs. This year, they are in “book clubs.” But, as thrilled as I am that they are plunging ahead into the world of knowledge, I have to admit to some ambivalence. Can’t you have multiplication AND finger paint? Chapter books AND Choice Time?
I am still a weekly classroom volunteer, but I am definitely less enthusiastic. Remember volunteering last year? My job was to help kids make peacocks out of paint and to construct Irish Derby Hats out of newspaper. This year, my job has been to work with the kid who can’t focus on his math, the one who is slipping behind as his peers hurtle forward to algebra. This is what my typical volunteering experience has been like this year:
Me: Hello, Jasper! Mrs. Taskmaster wants me to help you with your double-digit addition. Then we can get to work on those fractions!
Jasper: What?
Me: Math, Jasper. Let’s do 42 + 37 + 63 + 50 + 17. Quick! In your head! Then tell me what 1/3 of the sum is.
Jasper: Who are you?
Me: I’m Blue’s mom.
Jasper: Do you even know how to do that problem?
Me: I can’t do it in my head unless I have another cup of coffee. I could, however, solve the problem with a paper and pencil. But you are not allowed to do math the way I learned it. You are supposed to intuit it.
Jasper: So you are saying that you can’t do it, aren’t you? Don’t you have a PhD?
Me: Umm….yes, but my PhD is not in math.
Jasper: I think you are a big fraud.
Jasper is right. The way that I learned how to add and subtract and multiply and divide got recycled long ago. And the way that I learned how to spell? By memorizing? Forget it. My kids are “feeling the sounds” or something like that. I wasn’t very good at the kindergarten crafts, but I find that I am even less competent at first grade academics.
To better illustrate how much things have changed, I want to compare Blue’s Mothers’ Day gift to me last year with the one that he created this year. Last year, Blue spent an afternoon at school decorating a flower pot for me. It had hearts all over it and the painted words, “I love you.” The teacher gave each child a droopy flower to plant, and Voila! I had a lovely hand-made memento of my child’s affection (Actually, the teacher did not consider what would happen to this gift when it was toted home in a backpack. What I really received was a sack full of dirt and an empty pot).
This year, Blue gave me a bubble diagram for Mother’s Day. Awww, honey, how romantic! The kids have been working on these kinds of diagrams all year. I am not sure why. I have a feeling that bubble diagrams are going to be covered on the Big State Standardized Test, and Mothers' Day is just another opportunity to practice, practice, practice.
As you can see, Blue laid out several of my most pleasing attributes:
1) I have a great sense of humor (That’s true, though I hate to break it to him that my laughter at his knock-knock jokes is not genuine.).
2) I am a nice person (unless you ask me to make you a special birthday breakfast before I have my morning coffee).
3) I give him things that he wants (though it seems to me that just last week he was screaming, “You never give me anything I want!!!”).
4) I am a good cook (No one has ever said this to me before. I guess I have perfected my Noodles With Butter dish. ).
5) I am playful (This is true, unless I am doing Facebook. Then I tend to say things like, “Go off and find something to do!! Why do we have a house full of toys if you’re not going to use them?!”).
6. I use my computer a lot (Oh no! I guess I am spending too much time on Facebook. Sorry, kids.)
Sigh. As I write this, I am tucking the bubble diagram into my scrapbook ( Just kidding. I don’t have a scrapbook – I have a “memory pile” next to my desk.). I am also doing long division problems in my head, so that I can be ready for second grade volunteering. After all those years where the days went by so slowly, I suddenly feel the increasing speed of the boys’ childhoods. I think that if I could have picked out my perfect Mothers' Day present, it would have been to hold life still for just a moment -- just one moment, before it wriggled out of my hands and dashed on.
3 comments:
You're complaining about a birth"day" when you're the mother of birthday "month"? The boys forgot to diagram single malt.
I don't have to make treats for my own birth month, so it's not so bad. I tried to make 60 brownies all at once, and they exploded.
Now, if Blue had added a scotch reference, I would have given him EVERYTHING he's ever wanted.
The diagram is hilarious. So glad you're back!
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