The Dreaded "H" Word

My son is 8 years old and the world’s best procrastinator. He must have inherited this trait from me. He is one of those bright kids with “great potential” that frustrates the hell out of teachers (and parents) because if he doesn’t want to sit down and do the work required of him, he simply does not.

I’ll begin by saying that I am not the biggest fan of the amount of homework that children get these days. I don’t remember ever getting homework in primary grades and I’m sure that most adults don’t end their work day by eating a snack and flipping open their laptop to do more work the minute they get in the door. Energetic and growing kids need an opportunity to unwind, get fresh air, run around and get their ya-ya’s out. What they don’t need is to sit down the minute they get home from school to do more of the what they did in class (where they sat and did work most of the day).

That being said, homework is a reality in our world. I have chosen at this point to suck it up and help the kids develop good homework habits because I don’t think the homework conundrum is going away anytime soon. I try hard not to roll my eyes at the amount of homework they are given. All I can do is empathize (“it must be frustrating when you just want to play”) and work with them at making it enjoyable. I try to give them some outside play on the way home and make sure a snack is at the ready when they get in. My kids are vultures the minute they hit the kitchen- something about “not having time to eat lunch at school” (another post altogether). We’ve even installed a breakfast bar so there is another homework station within quick reach of Mom’s help or another snack.

What frustrates me the most is the amount of time my son spends sitting in front of his homework doing anything but. He breaks and sharpens his pencil about 30 times, asks for more food or another drink, fidgets and scribbles, taking 60 minutes to complete something that could have been done in 15. I try not to stand over him, encouraging/pleading for him to get it done. I try to gently remind him of the consequences (handing in incomplete work to his teacher who he likes and respects) but I can’t seem to find that inner motivation button. Trust me when I say that the reward system doesn’t work in our house (tried and failed numerous times). Sticker charts and bribes don’t resonate at all with him and I personally disagree with this approach. I don’t want to raise kids that will only participate in life because there is some kind of personal reward in it.

Last night L revealed that he had an art project due the next day. He also had other homework to complete before dinner and his Cubs meeting. That meant that he was up this morning, attempting to complete some pretty complex drawings and colouring before I hustled the three kids out the door for the bus. He didn’t finish it. And L loves to draw. He is passionate about it (not as passionate as he is about hockey but close). I often have to tell him to put away his sketch pad and pencils to go to bed. This should be an easy A for him. Instead, he tells me that his teacher says that he will be lucky to get a C+ in Art this term. I believe that it related to him not having good work habits and not completing his assignments on time. It feels a bit cruel when I know that he can do well but I appreciate where his teacher is coming from. He needs to learn that there are things required of us in life that aren’t pleasant but simply must be done in a timely manner (making dinner and doing laundry come to mind).

So I am biting my tongue, letting the chips fall where they may. We’ll find out what the teacher had to say and see if he gets an “R” on his assignment (I think it stands for incomplete but it’s in French so what do I know?). I'm going to go back to my Alyson Schafer books and scour her website for tips on dealing with homework (she isn't a fan of it either). We’ll sit down with L this weekend and try again to come up with better homework strategies together. And I will continue to search for that elusive inner motivation button. If I find it, I'll let you know!

Image © Reiulf Grønnevik | Dreamstime.com

Try New Things

Not long ago, I bought a fantastic print from Homesense called “Family Rules.” It is strategically placed above the kitchen table so we can refer to it often:

One of the rules that we talk about a lot is Try New Things. This applies to everyone. K could try a taste of that dinner she is turning her nose up at. M could try that dance workshop at school tomorrow even though she is afraid of making a mistake. L could try that new hockey skill he picked up at last week’s practice. My husband could try to cook a new dish. And I should also set an example of trying something new.

I have vowed to try at least one new thing each season. Last winter, I started my blog. Last spring it was soccer. I hadn’t kicked a soccer ball since grade two (and then I recall taking one in the face). But I squared my shoulders and got out there. Despite the butterflies (read: terror), I got on the field and just did it. My teammates were so wonderfully supportive and knowledgable. I was hooked. When the season ended, I immediately signed up to play indoor soccer. This past week, I finally showed improvement and received some kudos from women on my team. As I watched our Canadian women’s national soccer team play twice this weekend and qualify for the Olympics, I was inspired to keep going even if I’m not going to compete at any level but house league. In fact, I felt a pang of regret that I hadn’t started earlier in life but better late than never. Who says you can’t teach a 41 year old dog new tricks?

I have also tried my hand (paddle?) at kayaking and if there is ever any snow this winter I plan to strap on some snowshoes for the first time. Last summer I planted a vegetable garden. I am about to register for my second photography course and I continue with my French lessons. I attended a wine and cheese pairing course at our local LCBO (a fantastic Christmas gift from my husband). I am signing up for a Standard First Aid Course with CPR and AED with the Red Cross. This winter, I bought my first pair of hockey skates and I am looking at some “learn to play hockey” classes in the neighbourhood. (My sister-in-law take the cake at trying new things, however. She started roller derby at age 35 and after training, she made the team! She hadn't been on roller skates in years.)

As I tell my kids: take a chance, just TRY something new or you’ll never know how much you could like it. The world is your oyster and the sky is the limit! 


*A special note of thanks to my cousin Jenn who told me about this print available at Homesense*

Image © Treva Thompson 2012

Toothless Wonders

The transformation of a child’s mouth from a set of sweet little baby teeth to those large awkward adult teeth (that will need a mountain of cash to straighten) is a long and winding road. It starts when those sleepless nights and drooly cranky days turn out a little pumpkin mouth, those sweet baby smiles with little wee teeth poking through. Soon these little ones are able to chew steak and bite apples and all the good stuff in between.

Then one day they declare with great excitement, “My tooth is wiggly!!” (even though it may not be wiggly yet). They are usually around the age of 6 and the look of anticipation and excitement on their face is priceless. They will soon have those grubby fingers in their mouth at every opportunity, practically willing that tooth to come out. Rumours have it that a certain fairy will bring money for a tooth! So they tirelessly wiggle and wiggle and wiggle. They will show you every 5 minutes how loose that tooth is. This is not fun stage for those of us with a low heeby-jeeby threshold especially when that tooth looks like it is hanging on by sheer will.

My mother on the other hand was probably a dentist or tooth-fairy in another life. The wiggly tooth is like a magnet to her. She simply must wiggle any loose tooth within a 5 mile radius. My kids are thrilled to visit “Noni” when they have a loose tooth. They ask to make the trip to Barrie just to have Noni work on their tooth. When they visit, all of her attention is on them. She gets them to lie down and relax. I remember this as a child, laying on the couch for what seemed like hours while she worked her magic on those resistant teeth. She gets a good grip and gently (but persistently) wiggles this way and that, back and forth, side to side, a little twist here and there, stopping when there are cries of pain and then gets back at it until the child has had enough or the tooth has come out.

A couple of months ago we paid a visit to my mother because of a very wiggly tooth that wasn't coming out. My mother had K lie down and she worked on her tooth for about 45 minutes (my patient girl!). There were moans of discomfort and a little blood. After a short break, they were back at it, my mother coaxing out the tooth with a little “c’mon toothie, come to Noni, c’mon toothie toothie tooth” and there it was: a little white pearl in my mother’s hand and an expression of sheer joy on my daughter’s face.

When the commotion died down, I asked my mother what it is about wiggly teeth that fascinates her. She told me that it isn’t the tooth but the child. It is a small window in their life (usually only lasting for the first tooth or two) when they can see something tangible about growing up. In an instant, they are that much closer to being “all growed up”. Their excitement is contagious. 

If we are lucky, our toothless wonders are still naive enough to believe in a little invisible fairy that takes that baby tooth to a new baby and leaves some shiny coins in its place. That is a treat to witness in itself (like the magic of Santa on Christmas morning). The squeals of delight in the early morning are worth being awoken for.

(God forbid that you forget to work your magic! I’ve awoken at 5am in a panic realizing that I had gone to bed without playing my tooth fairy role. I dread the day that someone wakes up and still has their tooth under their pillow. There will certainly be some explaining to do!)

My son has lost 8 teeth and the girls have now lost 5 teeth between the two of them. This tooth fairy business can get pricey! I caution you not to start asking other parents on the playground how much the tooth fairy leaves. They are some (annoying) tooth fairies that think nothing of a $20 bill for a tooth. And trust me, these kids talk. In our house, it’s $5 for the first tooth, $2 for subsequent teeth unless you lose two in a day like my son did ($5 for both) or have them pulled by a dental professional (a premium for pain and suffering at $3 a tooth).

When those awkward adult teeth start popping up, your child’s face changes completely. I keep reminding myself that they will grow into their teeth but it does take some getting used to. At least when the adult teeth come in, they can start eating regular food again (try to pack a lunch for a kid missing four top teeth).

Here’s my question to all of you tooth fairies out there: Do you keep your kids’ baby teeth? I simply can’t bear to throw them out. I have a growing collection of teeth in three labelled ziploc bags in a special wooden box. It sounds (and looks) incredibly creepy or sentimental, depending on your point of view. I recall a story of a grown woman who was going through the home of her recently deceased father. In his top dresser drawer, she found a carefully stored box of all of her baby teeth. She recounts how deeply moved she was that he had kept them all of those years. She had never known that he had played tooth fairy in their house. Hopefully my kids will feel the same way when they come across my collection of their childhood choppers.

Image © Treva Thompson 2011

The Great Procrastinator

What is the saying about the road to hell being paved with good intentions?

I regret to inform you that after my last post on November 30, I have pretty much rested on my self-righteous laurels and have barely lifted a finger as far as my Christmas preparation pledge goes. Okay, I did bake 20 dozen cookies on the weekend for a family cookie exchange. The tree is up and the house is decorated. I have NOT designed or ordered my Christmas cards (think I missed the boat on that one) nor have I even addressed or mailed generic cards. I’m thinking that perhaps I can start a new tradition of sending Orthodox Christmas cards by January 7 as we do celebrate both. There are those blasted stocking stuffers to buy. And then there is the wrapping...

Instead of hauling out the gifts hidden in the basement, taking inventory and wrapping this morning, I am sitting at our new breakfast bar, listening to some Mumford & Sons on Sirius satellite radio, drinking my third coffee and thinking about all the other things I can do to put off the wrapping. It’s true. I have revealed my true procrastinator self. Give me a deck of cards and I’ll be playing solitaire for hours instead of working on my essay... Oh wait, this isn’t university anymore.

Granted, this year has been so much less stressful that previous years. It’s been pleasant not to be battling the multitudes at the dreaded malls, everyone in panic mode and miserable, inventory in array, with nary a salesperson in sight to help. The majority of my gifts were purchased by mid-November. Perhaps this is why I’ve put off the gift inventory/wrapping for fear that, although I’ve carried around my gift idea notebook and checked things off methodically, I may have missed some big gift and will have to get back out there. *shudder*

Can you tell that I’m seriously procrastinating now? I don’t have much more to say and yet I ramble on. Sigh. I guess I’m finished my coffee. Time to get to it. Watch me now. Here I go. I’m closing my laptop. Any minute now. Just one more cup of coffee and then I’ll start wrapping, I promise...

Image © Scott Hales | Dreamstime.com