Parents and Our Education System

Yesterday we had a big wind storm. Big enough to knock out our power for several hours (some places, I read, are still without power). Big enough to close schools (this is monumental because feet of snow won't shut down our schools). As I was reading the comment board on an article posted on ksl.com, I could not believe that parents were complaining about how the school closures were being handled, about how it's such a pain. I kept thinking, "Really? Aren't you the parent here? Can't you just make up your own mind about whether or not you feel safe in taking your kid to school today instead of letting the city dictate that for you?"

That is not all.

Educators encourage parent involvement at school and in the home re: academics. I support it. I'm engaged. But here's what gets me. I had listened off and on to talk radio on my way to pick up Hannah from a school activity, and the talk was about holding kids back a grade. A parent came on and gave his opinion, that he thinks it is the school that makes the decisions. In my experience, I found that to be true. Then, a teacher came on and agreed with the parent. She said they do not hold children back because studies show it hurts them socially, and they tend to drop out of high school if they are held back. And, she disagreed with the "policy" of advancing children even if they are struggling.

Okay, studies do not represent my kid. In fact, you researchers do not know my kid. Her father and I know her much better than a researcher. What happens to our child if she's advanced when we feel she's really not ready?

1. She's at the bottom tier in her class. Why is this a big deal? Because she believes she is "stupid" because all the other "stupid" kids are in that group. No, don't tell me that it isn't like that. I was a kid, I remember. No amount of politically correctness is going to convince her that she is not stupid.
2. She develops a distaste for school. She struggles to understand what is being taught. Then she is sent home with the very thing that she doesn't understand. Enter Mom and Dad into the picture to help her with the homework and it becomes a daily battle of the wills. A young child should be out playing with her friends, not stuck with homework for hours at a time.
3. If we feel she's "young" for her age, and we feel it will not harm her socially, then why can't we, her parents, make the decision? Why is it up to the school?

Yes, I do believe at a certain age, it probably isn't wise to hold a child back, but ultimately, it is MY decision. It is HER FATHER'S decision. It is not the decision of the almighty schools.

Educators, you want us involved? Gladly. But let us do our job as parents, too. I have nothing against Hannah's former teachers. In fact, they are pretty awesome. But, it is not them specifically with whom I have my beef. It's the system.

As a result, I pulled my daughter out of mainstream public education and put her in our local charter school. It is a Montessori school, and it has been really good for all of us. The educators do their job, they teach. They let the kids be kids (within reason of course). They teach to the child, not to the test. It is amazing what Hannah has come home and taught us about. And, they let the parents be what we are supposed to be. The parents.

...the time will be...

Do you remember when we could call on the telephone for the time? "At the tone, the time will be 10:54 and 23 seconds." I used to call it, and sadly, I no longer remember the phone number. There's no way for me to check if it still exists (and maybe it was a Hawaii only thing?).

So tonight, as one of the 1,256 sedentary things I can do after surgery, I browsed my friends list on Facebook to find people overseas. So I can figure out what time it is there.

Hilary is just waking up. Kaoru has kids at school. Erika is getting her kids down for a nap. Kalei wishes she was in Aotearoa with Sweet.

It's cool to think that while I'm in my jammies getting ready for bed my niece is starting her day. Or while Erika is getting her kids down for a nap, Kalei (if she were in New Zealand right this second) would be thinking about an early dinner. Every second of every day, someone is doing something that you have never done or never thought to do.

I suppose I have way too much time on my hands these past few days while recovering from an ankle arthrosocpy/arthrotomy. I'm not known for sitting around and doing nothing for days in a row, and I admit I'm going a little bonkers. I even watched a youtube tutorial on how to crochet, and thought about calling Ted while he was bringing Hannah home from Lori's today to ask him if he could pick me up a crochet needle. It was fleeting of course, as I had already presented the honey do list (which included steak and the fully leaded and highly sweet Coke) and if I added crochet needle to it, he might get a little annoyed by it, after asking me "what is that?"

Note to self: Be grafetul that I don't live somewhere in the world where I don't have the luxury to sit around and do nothing for days in a row.

Next up: Hannah and the garden. It's that time of year when the garden needs to be cleared out and the soil turned. Since I'm out of commission, and Hannah wants sooooooo badly to get The Lion King on DVD, I'm thinking I may be able to strike a deal. 

You Just Ovulated

Bruch with my MOMS friends was really nice. Hashbrown casserole, mini doughnuts, mini muffins, zucchini bread, breakfast cookies, chilled juices, and one cute baby girl. Pretty eyes, chunky cheeks that make her hard to resist, and an affection for me. One of the MOMS tends this nine month old 1-2 times a week, and this is the first time I saw her. I had ideas flitting through my mind about how cute it would be to have a baby around. Well, a baby as sweet as her. She was just so good, entertaining herself, sitting on the picnic blanket just being. Yeah, that's the kind of baby I want.

She started to fuss a little bit, my MOMS friend that tends her was dealing with her son, so I reached down and grabbed her. She was complaining about being in the sun, so with her in my arms, we headed to the shade. She started to settle down, I rubbed her back and told her "it is so much better in the shade, isn't it?" She calmed right down.

When it came time for me to leave, my MOMS friend came over to grab her, but this sweetheart would not go to her. She turned away from her and clutched my neck. Talk about sweetness! Well, not so for my friend, but yeah, the roots of wanting another baby just planted deeper into my mind. I want this.

I decided to indulge her for another minute, I'd just speed on my way to Hannah's school to drive for their field trip. I continued rubbing her back and talking nonsense to her. But when I really had to go, I had to return her to my friend. And I made that baby cry. That was heart-wrenching, big tears running out of her blue eyes and down her pink chubby cheeks.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. I'm sorry." I rubbed her back as my friend held her. My friend thought this to be pretty amusing, I think, because while I rubbed that cute baby's back, she cheered "You just ovulated!"

I thought about having another baby, I mean really thought. This is something I've gone back and forth over in the last couple years. How sweet babies are, how loving they are. But, they grow up. And it's not as sweet. They don't need you as much. In fact, they defy you sometimes.

There will be no more babies for me. I'll just have to love on everyone elses sweet babies and let them deal with the not-so-sweet.

I'm too old!

I was sitting on the recliner, my aching foot up as is the usual around the end of the day. Hannah walked over and handed me a picture hanging nail and hook, saying "Here Mom, I got this for you."

Huh? I thought.

She headed back down the hall towards her room, I had guessed. Not even a minute passed when she handed over three framed pictures.

"Here Mom," she said as I took them from her.
"Hannah, these are your ducks." I said, wondering what was up.
"I'm too old for ducks in my bathroom."

Wow.

Really?

Sigh.

Yes, really.

She got a Littlest Pet Shop room for her 8th birthday, her daddy and I worked hard on it. Why? Because she informed me she's "too old for finding Nemo."

At least she's not too old for cuddles while being told the various stories of when she was a baby.

"Mom, when I was a baby, what did I like to eat?"
"You ate baby food. You liked to play with it, too, because everytime I fed you, you sprayed the food out of your mouth."
She laughed.
"What else Mom?"
"Well, you liked to cuddle and be rocked to sleep."
"Like this?"
"Yes, but you were a lot smaller. You rested your head on my chest and you laid on my tummy. Sometimes, I fell asleep while rocking you. We both would be asleep on the rocker, and Daddy would find us. He used to worry that I'd drop you."
"But you never dropped me, right?"
"No, never."



I'm your lady, and you are my man

Very little is more amusing to me than walking out to the garage and seeing Ted work on the van with love songs blaring on the stereo. Really? My manly man listening to Celine Dion?

"You missed 'The Power of Love'," he said as I looked at him in amusement, some other sappy love song filled the garage.
"You actually remember that from our wedding?" I asked.
"Yeah."

Ladies, don't be fooled. They DO remember!

It didn't take long, though, for him to turn the station.

"Gee, hon, this isn't much better," I said as some girly song took over.
"Hey, it's Jack FM."
"Yeah."

I left him to his manly work, the only remnant of estrogen coming from Jack FM. Maybe the radio station ought to be called Jill FM? Or maybe it really is a "Jack" Jack FM, kind of like a Jack Mormon?

In other news, the tent that has been occupying my family room is now where it belongs. In the backyard. Hannah has been begging her daddy for a backyard camp out. He hasn't been enthused about it, when you have a TemperCloud mattress you get really spoiled. I think she may finally sucker him in to it tonight. She tried to sucker us into having her "barfy" friend sleepover in the tent. This friend throws up if she eats too much junk. Yeah, like I am going to be that accommodating.

I did acquiesce and allow sleepovers when Ted goes elk hunting. One friend from Friday to Saturday. Another friend from Saturday to Sunday. If one night is barfy friend, I will be the Junk Food Nazi and make the kid sleep with the barf bowl.

Wait...is that mean of me?

The No-Sleep Sleep

Dreaming while awake?
Ted asked questions, Hannah roamed
Heavy, gritty eyes

Chop Chop!

Is it possible to sweat from using a paper cutter?
'
If you have a lot to cut, it is a warm summer evening, and you forgot to put your hair up, yes.

Will you have perfect cuts from using a paper cutter?

Only if you actually line your paper up using the grid on the paper cutter. Otherwise, while your cut will have a straight edge, chances are it will not be at a 90 degree angle.

Can a paper cutter cut through lamination?

Yes. Provided there is paper within the lamination. It will not cut through just the lamination, but you will get a pretty good crease.

Can you sit and cut?

Not a good idea. While your back may beg of you to please quit stopping over, sitting is not going to make the job any easier.

Is it safe for my child to use?

If you have to ask this question, then you should not own a paper cutter. Kid scissors for you!

P.S. If you are fortunate enough to own this kind of equipment, give your child's teacher a hand. Chop chop! In fact, even if you don't, there is always a need for you parents to lend a hand.

Toby's Book by Hannah and Mom

I love how Hannah's mind operates. The simplicity of her story-telling in "Toby's Book" that she wrote on Tuesday night. The ability to remember the details which really makes her not so simple. Watching this, listening to her, it's fascinating.

Her book arrived from walmart.com four days early. Talk about exceeding my expectations! The quality was pretty good, too. We excitedly thumbed through the pages, everything looking just as she had hoped.

I am so amazed at how far she has come. A year ago, she completely shut down regarding school. It was too overwhelming. She refused to read, she refused to talk about school work, and now...she's writing stories.

If you like to write, read. If you like to escape reality for a bit, read. If you want to learn something new, read. I can't imagine what life is like to be unable to read.

Organza: The Curly Hair of Fabric

Organza is a sheer fabric often used in dress. It has a very natural flow, and does so beautifully. Those who know what organza is may think "it does not look curly!" Those who have worked with organza may have an idea as to why I think it is the curly hair of fabric.


I've worked with stretchy fabrics, such as jersey knit, lycra types, polyester blends. I've worked with fabrics that fray with the slightest touch. Think shiny Halloween costume fabric. The name of that fabric escapes me.


The stretchy fabrics curl and shift. The fabric that frays...once you cut it you need to either set it down and leave it alone, serge the raw edges, or get to work because the very second you lay your fingers on it, it will fray. While these fabrics are akin to a child with a slight stubborn streak, organza, in all it's airy beauty, is the high-maintenance not-going-to-do what you say child.


How is that like curly hair? I have curly hair. When it's at the perfect length, the lose curls fall just right. It doesn't take much, just some gel, scrunching, and I'm good to go. Back when perms were in, people paid big bucks to have hair like mine. Much like I paid $7 a yard for the organza.


Organza is pretty on the bolt. You look at it and get all kinds of ideas as to how you can use it to give just the right airy touch just by capitalizing on its natural flow. Let it pool at your feet, and it does so with grace.


But try to get it to behave against the grain? Curly hair.


As I've said, people used to pay bucks, now they spend time with their gels, balms, and curling irons to achieve curly hair. But when you have it naturally and you want it to perform against the grain? Organza.


I'm making curtains out of pink organza for Hannah's room. I thought it would add something a little different to what she has, a nice contrast. Pressing the cuffs for hems going along the grain is like doing so with any other fabric. Doing this against the grain was like getting a clump of my curly hair to curl the opposite direction.


Using higher heat on the organza will burn the fabric, using stiffen it and likely have it stick to the iron, maybe also burn it. Each time I pressed, the cuff sprang back open as if it was spring-loaded.


As some point, you have to give up, take the fabric to the sewing machine, and stich inch by painful inch...curling and tucking a cuff as you go. And no, for me, hand-stitching is NOT an option.


Hours have passed, I have one more side of against the grain hemming to go. I was supposed to have it finished today, along with assembling a bookshelf, before Ted comes home from Atlanta tomorrow.


And I will wear my hair curly.

Is This my Baby?

In my lovesick desire to surprise my husband with a whole new set of pics for his digital picture frame, I found a ton of pictures of Hannah when she was a baby. Pictures I remember taking, but I looked at one particular photo (not the one I chose for my blog) and thought "Is this my baby?"

Time has a funny way of sneaking up on you. And it cackles when you look back and wonder where it went. A cruel, cruel joke.

I chose this particular picture because Hannah wrote a children's story last night, and it was about Toby. How I wish I had consulted the flash drive in the digital picture frame before putting the picture book together last night on walmart.com. How precious are the memories of a baby and her best friend! It touches me deep down, but I already know what Hannah would have said if I had actually put her baby pics in the book. "Mom! You're embarrassing me!"

Time will sneak up on me again, and ten years from now I'll be looking at that book of the story she wrote. And have the same feelings as I do tonight.

Treasure Maps and the Vacuum

Yesterday, Hannah came home from school and told me all about the airplanes she made. Okay, cool, I'm not going to panic about my kid making paper airplanes in school. (Tomorrow, I'm going to meet the class pet and ask her teacher about the paper airplanes) Anyway, she made an instructional video on "How to Make Paper Airplanes with Wheels" but begged for me to now show anyone, but Daddy, as it's for him.

After recording the video, she decided to send Daddy on a tresure hunt when he gets back from Atlanta. Cute, right? The map...it's so adorable. Complete with drawings of the furniture in the house, where to walk, little footsteps, and the big red "X" at the end. She really thought it out. Then she hid the planes that were part of her instructional video, placed a big red "X" in front of the hiding spot, rolled up the map and placed it on Daddy's chair. Mind you he's not going to be home until Friday, and this was all done on Monday afternoon!

So if any of you friends of mine in the local area come over this week, just ignore the big red "X" and please do not sit on Ted's chair.

I remember when Toby was young, he would play with the vacuum in typical dog fashion. Crouch done, growl, bark. Run side to side in front of it. Bark some more. Run down the hall, come back, crouch, bark.

Now? Stand there and watch it, his head swinging back and forth, back and forth. When I move on to another spot, he relocates. Back and forth, back and forth. I think it's mostly the light he's watching because of his vision.

He lost the fiesty, he mostly spends his time trying to get out of our way. :( But, he is still curious as ever. Maybe he's really part cat?

It Begins

That is, my blog. Well, I should say my family's blog. Wherein I shall share our news, which may include some tidbits of our everyday life, some hilarious Hannah moments that have me trying very hard not to laugh (as it embarrasses her), maybe some pictures, and any and all news that we want to share. I have the following accounts: Facebook, Google+, LinkedIn, and now, a blog. How often I will update? With all the networking sites available, I cannot say. I'll forget where I posted what, and may end up repeating myself thnking that I've not said something on Facebook when in fact, I've already shared it but could not remember if it was really at Google+.

It's a hot Sunday afternoon, my family went to church, I stayed home to try and nurse a headache while getting laundry done, the kitchen cleaned, and dinner and dessert going. Thank you cards from Hannah's birthday need to go out. Ted's clothes to be set aside for an upcoming work trip.

He's going to Atlanta. Again. He is not a fan of business travel, being so tall and squished in coach class on the plane, having crappy hotel beds, and well, being away from us, of course. Since he took his current position, he's traveled a lot. I'm a little jealous in that he gets to go to places that I've never been. He's been to Atlanta a few times, I'd love to go there. He'd rather stay home where the bed is comfy and all is quiet. Basically. He's been to DC, Florida, Oakland CA. We used to live in the Bay Area, CA, so I am also jealous of that trip.

Hannah starts week two of school. A new school. A school that I must say, "I love you!!" As does she. Saturday morning, she woke up at 8:30am, shouting, "Mom! Where are you?" She located me, all comfy in bed, and asked, "Shouldn't I be at school?" That, folks, is history in the making. Aside from the fact that she tells us all about school now, whereas before, it was like trying to brush though her matted hair on a Monday morning. With the new school comes a dress code much like my days at Kamehameha. It's both good and bad, the good far outweighing the bad. Good in that she looks so put together, it breeds a more academic environment, and well, I enjoyed picking out smart-looking attire. Bad in that it is more expensive (sorry, honey, the American Express bill is going to be kinda big). Tomorrow, we start carpool. She gets to ride with another family, and well, I don't really need to leave the house, which means I can stay in my jammies all day long.

Speaking of me...

The things I like about being at home all day, no kid or hubs.

1. No TV. I relish in the absolute quiet of my home.
2. I can turn down the thermostat to 65 degrees and no one will complain if it's cold.
3. The dog pretty much stays out of my way, except for when he wants something, at which point he follows me everywhere until I comply.
4. No interruptions! Except for the above re: Toby.

My Toby boy is getting old. He's 13 years old, going blind and deaf. I read The Art of Racing in the Rain this weekend and bawled. I had to try and be quiet about it because I finished at 1:27am early Saturday morning, I did not want to wake Ted from his slumber. It was like I was already mourning the loss of my dog. I have book club on Tuesday morning, and I doubt I'll be able to contribute anything, other than tears. And no, the thrust of this book is not about a dog dying. If it was just that I would not have read it. It's a pretty fantastic book about a dog's life, the struggles his owner faces, lots of metaphors of course, and it is written completely in the dog's point of view. While the ending is supposed to be a happy one, it made me cry even harder.

The dryer has dinged and its contents must be handled. Blog time over.