Ask a Teacher: What Do I Do If my Child Is "Struggling"

Today, Emilie from Teaching Ain't For Heroes gets personal. She talks about what parents should remember should their kids get a "struggling" assessment in a certain area during the early grades.

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I received my son's first report card. As a teacher, I've prided myself on knowing how to teach and when to teach various things. My first fieldwork experience was with kindergarteners (22 of them), so even though I teach high school, I felt that I had experiences that could help me teach my son.

My son received all checks and his report started out glowing. His teacher talked about how he was sweet and hardworking. She said that sometimes he's disruptive with talking, but he's easily corrected.

And then she said that he was struggling with printing and letter sounds. My pride took a hit with that word "struggling" because I know what that word means in my teacher jargon. In my classroom, I use struggling for kids who are below grade level and in danger of being left behind. I don't use struggling lightly. Struggling is for kids who are missing basic skills necessary to master standards.

It stung. I've been doing everything right. We read every night. He practices writing at home. We always do his homework (yes, homework in preschool!). He loves learning. He loves playing school. He's said he wants to be a teacher, just like me.

But he's struggling.

The idea of a range of normal is just that, a range. There's early readers and late readers and kids who fall somewhere in the middle of that enormous spectrum.

Not every kid can be advanced and perfect at everything they do. It's hard to accept that your child isn't the best in their peer group.

Despite my son's struggles in the first term of preschool, it's unlikely that he'll struggle in the same way that many of the students I have known do. He may not be an early reader like I was, but that doesn't mean that I have failed in someway. Every kid is different and will learn at their own pace.

As parents, it's so easy to get hung up on the successes of our children that we forget that they are individuals who don't need to be measured against their peers.

The fact that so many of us Facebook craft our children's lives so that they appear perfect doesn't help. Hey, I'm guilty. I held my phone just right so that the part about disruption and my son's struggles wasn't visible when I posted a picture of his report to Facebook. When you find yourself feeling down on yourself as a parent, remember that just out of frame, others' lives aren't perfect either.






 

Being the Allergy Mom - Guest Post

My kids are allergy-free, but when they went to preschool, there were several allergies we had to be mindful of. I always tried to make our snacks universal for all, to avoid what Debby has graciously offered to write down for me...the seclusion of the kids with allergies, and the deadly consequences if that seclusion isn't followed correctly.

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Let’s say you bring your family into a local deli to order lunch, and while they are grilling your sandwiches you notice a large, open canister of Rat Poison sitting right next to the bread and lunchmeat the cook is preparing.  When you bring it up, the lady at the counter waves her hand dismissively.  “Don’t worry,” she says, “we only use that on the left side of the grill.”

You drop your child off at her first day of pre-school, and while she’s gripping your hand tightly, the teacher talks to her about all the fun things she’ll do there.  “And you can play with cyanide,” the teacher says, kindly.

“Cyanide?” you ask with concern, “I can’t have her playing with that. I’m sorry but…”

The teacher looks at you funny and says, “Well okay. The kids who do that will stay at that table. We’ll make sure she sits alone over here,” she points to the next table over. “No worries.”

This is what it’s like as the parent of a child with a deadly allergy to an everyday substance or food.  Of course, we know in real life it’s not Rat Poison in the deli, just a jar of peanut butter.  That the children aren’t playing with cyanide at pre-school, but eating goldfish crackers and honey-mustard pretzels for snack.  They aren’t doing dangerous things – just innocuous, childhood things.  Normal things.

It’s us, the parents of the allergic child, who are seen often as overreacting, “crazy”, helicopter parents – god, can’t we just let it go?  But actually, most parents I know of children with allergies go through life in a constant state of underreacting. You have to, in order for your child to have any kind of life.

 “Oh, no problem, I brought his own food.”

 “Oh, her best friend has strawberries today for snack?  I’m just going to sit her over here away from that. No, no big deal… just if you wouldn’t mind washing her hands?”

“He’s at camp, but I made sure the counselors know what he can’t have and are trained in administering his epinephrine injector. I think he'll be okay."

After a while, it becomes part of your life.  Reading food labels is as natural as holding hands while crossing a busy road. Your kid knows to ask you  “is it safe?” before eating any food, the same way he knows not to get into cars with strangers. Just another danger.  Just another thing that can kill your child.  You think as long as you teach her right, as long as you know the signs, carry the epi-pen everywhere, you can handle it.  It will be alright.

And then a story like this hits the news. A 13-year-old girl did everything right: spit out the food after one bite, told her parents right away, her father – a doctor - administered her medication within the ‘correct’ time window.  And she still died.  A young girl barely beginning her life is dead  from one mouthful of a mislabeled rice cereal treat.  A family is grieving for their daughter who died from a peanut. This is not right, this is not fair, this is terrifying.

When I read that story I went into my son’s room, and held him while he slept.  I cried.   I second-guessed everything: summer camp, the family vacation we have planned, public school.  I half-seriously considered never letting him out of my sight ever again.  Every parent has had moments like this.

This will follow us into his teens, college years, adulthood.  I struggle to make sure he knows the ‘rules’ about food safety but not to become so draconian about it that he rebels in his teen years and ends up in a dangerous situation (according to an article in MedScape weekly, late adolescence and teens is the most dangerous time for kids with food allergies, due to poor decision making skills, alcohol impairing judgment, and even bullying. I may never get a good night’s sleep again).

There are lots of things to be scared of in this world:  a wayward bullet, a speeding car, childhood cancer, all the things that keep parents up at night.  I just have an additional worry.  Another reason to kiss my son goodnight.  Another reason to stay awake long after everyone else in the house is asleep.  A normal parent to a normal child, in a very dangerous world.

But we all just do the best we can.

Debby V. is a stay-at-home mom with a four-year-old son and another boy due this fall.  Thanks to her son's moderate dairy allergy and severe peanut allergy, her house never has the good candy at Halloween. 



 

Preschool Pointers - 37: Show Up

Problem:

Your kid is graduating preschool. That's not the problem, though. The problem is that the ceremony takes place at 2 p.m. on a Wednesday? You've got work, your own school, appointments, whatever. It's going to be hard to make it, and does your kid really need a graduation ceremony at four years old anyway?

Yes.


Solution:

Show up. They'll tell you far in advance, and yes, it's a bunch of four year olds trying to sing songs and recite poetry, and yes, they'll get a little diploma (protip: don't leave your diploma at the school...oops.) But what's important to them is that you are there. This is going to be a running theme for their rest of their lives now. Sports games, concerts, ceremonies, honors, all of these will be at inopportune times, perhaps at inconvenient places, and take a while. Show up.

Even if your kid says it doesn't matter.

Now this isn't to say you have to go to every single game / event, but make a concentrated effort to attend some of the key ones. It makes a difference.

Even at four, when my husband was able to pop in for their graduation ceremony on his lunch hour (having to drive way across town to do so), my girls lit up. They were so incredibly excited and happy to see him. He didn't stay for the ice cream, but he got the ceremony, the songs, took pictures and videos and just generally made the kids' day.

These things, they will be remembered.

 

Ask a Teacher - What about Summer / Fall Birthdays and Kindergarten?

One of the segments most people are interested in here is Ask A Teacher. In that vein, I'd like to introduce Emilie. She is a teacher and a mother and a blogger to boot, residing in Kentucky. Her school system's had a rough ride with the No Child Left Behind Act, but she toils away to make her students the best they can be, day in and day out. Teaching Ain't for Heroes, but Emilie sure is one!

Anyway, she'll be answering questions as they come in from parents and readers. Here's the first one, which is also available on her blog. After they've been posted on the home page, you'll find all questions with links to answers in the Ask a Teacher section up top!

If you have any questions for the resident teacher, leave them in a comment here!
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I was asked recently about what to do with a child who has a late summer or early fall birthday. In my district, a child turning 5 before October 1st has the ability to start kindergarten. This creates a dilemma for parents like me. I gave birth in 2012 to a daughter who was born at the end of September. No matter what, she's going to be the odd child out. She'll either be the youngest in her class or the oldest. But what should you do if you find yourself in my shoes?

The answer is as aggravating as you think. It really just depends on the child. The best advice I can give you is to pay attention to the needs and wants of your child. There's more that goes into choosing when to start school than just academics. Is your child emotionally ready to handle all day school? Is your child socially ready for kindergarten? What was preschool like for your child?

Pay attention to signs that your child is ready for kindergarten. Scholastic has a great explanation of some signs of readiness for kindergarten.

Some parents are frustrated by the age cut off and feel that their children are ready for kindergarten, even if they are turning 5 after their district's cut off. Even if your child is advanced, it's important to remember that there will be other like-age children with your child and that teachers are trained to be adept at differentiation. Differentiation is a big teacher word that just means making a lesson approachable for students that show a variety of learning levels. If your child really is bored and needs more advanced work, there are ways to skip grades down the line. I'm always an advocate of children who are displaying advanced skills be evaluated to see if they are eligible for an IEP for giftedness.

If you're still unsure about when your child should start kindergarten, the best thing you can do is take your child into the school and see what type of assessments the school might offer to help you make your decision.






 

Play Therapy

D: "Will you play with me?"

N: "No, we don't like each other."

D: "Well, I like you."

N: "But I don't like you, so there."

D: "But why?"

N: "I don't like your hair."

D: "Why not?"

N: "It's not beautiful."

N: "Oh."

Dulce walks away. Natalina assume the role of the teacher.

N: "Dulce, what's wrong?"

D: "Nuffin."

N: "No, you're acting sad. What's wrong?"

D: "M and J don't like me."

N: "Oh, well, let me talk to them."

And on and on. And then over again. And again. Sometimes the "teacher" would get angry or sad. Other times, she would tell Dulce that it would be okay and go play with someone else.

It's cute right? It would be really cute if it were pretend. But it wasn't. The girls, with no prompting from me at all, and apparently no discussion ahead of time, they spontaneously broke out into this "game" recreating a very real event that had happened at preschool that morning.

M and J really did tell Dulce they didn't like her because her hair was dark and curly. And it messed her up a bit. My child is four. She doesn't need to hear about how her hair isn't beautiful.

Dulce told me and the teachers told me. I don't think they talked to the other parents, but that's okay. It's not a big deal, it's just kids being kids.

That didn't stop me from shooting a four-year-old child the adult death-stare of doom. Yeah, you heard me. Not above it.

Other than that, I just told Dulce that the girls were wrong about her hair, they probably just didn't know any better, and sometimes people just don't want to play with other people, and that's okay. I told her to seek out other friends who would be nicer to her when that happens. I didn't know what to do.

And my heart broke when this game started. This incident really resonated with the twins.

But as they went on, I became less sad and more fascinated. They were working through it. Over and over again, they worked through it until Dulce was satisfied with the solution.

And by the end, they were laughing and giggling away. Best of friends. Forever.

Perfection.

My kids.

 

Preschool Pointers - 14: Get to the Bottom of It

Problem:

You know, you never thought you'd have a child who lashed out physically as a way to combat overwhelming emotion and four-year-old strife, but here you are, at the school again, because your little one apparently has a healthy distaste for authority. You've told the kid a million times that she needs to use words. You've sympathized with her. You know how upset she can get. You've set up reward systems, you've disciplined, taken away privileges, and she'll be fine for a few days, but it seems almost every week she forgets at least once and allows the HULK SMASH to come out. What do you do?

Solution:

Wouldn't it be awesome if the kid suddenly got the point and just stopped with the kicking or hitting? Just behaved like the other kids? Just understood that innate fear that you know you always had of grown ups?

Well, saddle up, because I've tried that, and it ain't happening.

While it's not okay to defend your child's brash actions to the death no matter what the circumstances, it is really important to look for clues and follow cues. If you know you have a child that triggers on a hair, it's up to you to help those around her not trip that trigger (while you continue to work on it at home. Ultimately, the kid has to stop throwing screaming tantrums when she doesn't get her way / can't verbalize her feelings. Never stop working on that at home.)

In our case, one of the girls will, about once a week, dissolve into a raging mess and physically hit or kick whoever tries to stop her. Both teachers and now the principal have been victims of it. She's not a bad kid (haha, says the mom), she actually loves all these people and will hug them and apologize when she's calmed down. She considers them friends.

So what's happening?

The problem is (well, besides the real problem which is my child's inability to keep control of herself when she gets frustrated), is that she doesn't want to move until people have heard her. But she's not talking. She's just crying. The teachers usually have to move to another area or room, and they can't just leave her there. They don't know how to get her to stop, so they try to physically move her. They go over to a kid who's out of control and try to pick her up. And they get a foot...somewhere. Because the girl doesn't want to be moved.

And she has a really strong sense of right and wrong and good and bad. When this happens to her (or when she does this...for those of you who are all about accountability in four year olds), she knows she's not doing the right thing, and yet feels powerless to stop it. This compounds her original problem and she jumps onto the nobody-is-going-to-like-me-now-anyway boat, making it her against the world.

As a parent, I can break through to her pretty quickly. Sometimes, I'll clash with her, show her that she's the child and I'm the adult and she needs to calm it down. But more often, I'll soothe her (without trying to pick her up or move her until she's ready). She wants to hear that she's still a good girl, that people still like her, that everything will be okay. She wants someone on her side. And once you can get her on board with that, the rage passes and you can work through it.

Is it ideal? No. Like I said, we're working on it.

But it's something at least. She doesn't want to lose control, and it's never aimed at a person. Even when she's fighting with her sister, if that rage thing kicks in, the sister is forgotten. It's just the one and her emotions, fighting each other.

I guess, the solution is to show your child that you're on her side, but you need her to work with you. If you can approach these situations with a little gentleness, you can usually stave them off or stop them before they even get off the ground.





 

Inviting Twins -- Etiquette

With the advent of my kids making friends, comes the individuality of one of them being better friends with one person, while the other is better friends with another.

So what happens if your kid only likes one of mine?

We had a close call yesterday, and before that I had been asked a question about twin invitations, so I thought I'd toss my two cents in, today.

Yesterday, Dulce went to pieces thinking her friend had invited her sister to a party, but not her. The girl would not calm down. I had to hold her for a long time.

Fortunately, it was just a drawing...her friend had been using an irrelevant invitation as scrap paper.

But it's not like this isn't going to come up, and soon. So I'd better batten down the hatches.

Here is what I would say, given my twins intense relationship to one another (more intense perhaps than most twins, as I think many others can separate without dramatically melting into a puddle at this point.)

1) If you are throwing a party, where lots of kids are going, and your child only wants to invite one twin, please, do not invite us. I would so much rather make up some lie to my kids about why we couldn't go or why we weren't invited than have to deal with

A) explaining to one twin why she can't go even though she's invited so that she'll blame her sister (although, to be real, this wouldn't be an issue for us. One twin will not go without the other.)

B) Having both go only to have one ignored because she wasn't really wanted.

C) Trying to separate them in a situation where one gets to go do a fun thing because she's liked more. Yes, I could arrange a super fun playdate for the other one, but firstly, they both would then want to go to both, and secondly, dude, it's not the same.

Okay, so, parties. Either invite them both because you like them, or pass. We're cool with that.


2) If your little darling is besties with only one of my children, and cannot open her heart to inviting them both over to play, please, please ask me first. I don't think it's weird, and I don't think it's mean. People, no matter how small, have friendships and preferences, and I get that my kids aren't a package-deal for everyone (just me...I'm so lucky). If I somehow think I can figure out a way to swing a one-on-one outing, I'll let you know. If I can't, I will be super nice to you, and understanding, but politely decline.

If you come to me first, before having your kid tell only one of my kids, I have some semblance of control over the issue and the outcome is a lot more likely (read .5 percent over 0 percent, at this point in time) to come to fruition. If you leave it to the kids, not only will one of my kids not be able to go, but I will have to deal with hours, and hours, and hours, AND HOURS of cleanup.

The other one simply will not understand. Not yet. We're working on this. I hope to report back to you in a year with entirely different rules, or better yet, no rules at all.

Unfortunately, we're not at that point yet. My four year olds have a sense of competition and justice that rivals the Fantastic Four. They will fight to the death if something is just a hair off, convinced that the other one has it better, is better, is more loved.

I don't know why. Like I said, we work on this every day.

For now, it works best for us if you invite both kids and if you come to me first. It's not a must. It's not an order. Just a request. From one mom suffering from first friendships to another.



 

Mom's-eye View of Friendship

So, I waited a full month of best friendship before writing that post on the two little girls who had picked my girls as friends.

And of course, not a day after I post it do they start shaking things up.

First, Lilly came home and told me that A had been running, and Lilly had gotten tired. So she switched with Dulce. She went and sat with N while Dulce ran with A.

All well and good. Except they didn't tell their friends.

And I had wondered why N had called Lilly by the wrong name at the end of the day.

So, I had a brief chat with them about how you can't just go switching places and not telling people. You could hurt someone's feelings. (I have no idea if this is true, but the behavior seemed odd to me, so I put on my mom pants and just told them not to do it. Like I do with all things I don't understand. Because I'm awesome. And by awesome, I mean totally afraid and confused by the nature of twins.)

I mean, do they think they're interchangeable on a deep level?

So, the next day, they decided they'd had so much fun with the other one's friend, that they'd just switch for realsies. And this time they told the other girls.

Now, I only get one side of this, but it appears everyone is mostly okay with that.

Only then A started getting more attention than N. And N is fading into the background, even though I can see at pickup that she doesn't want to.

And I'm feeling more sad about that than I should. Which is actually what this entry is about.

They are their own people, they can make their own friends and choose to hang out with whomever they want for whatever amount of time, so why do I have so many feels about this?

I'm keeping my trap shut. It's not my job to encourage either of the twins to continue to hang out with N on the playscape if that's not what they're into, but damn if I don't want to. And what about K and K? The girls have decided those other girls are their 'outside of school' friends. Does that hurt their feelings? Probably not; they're four. But I worry. I mean, my grownup feelings would maybe be hurt, I don't even know.

And now they're talking about J and A2. They say that J and A2 are now their bffs, and N and A are not.

And I'm all, "LISTEN, YOU CAN GO AROUND TOSSING FRIENDSHIP ASIDE LIKE THAT. YOU'RE HURTFUL!"

Only I don't say that and they're not hurtful. They're four and they've got a lot of friends. I'm super happy about that. They're not bullying or being bullied, and gosh darn it, people like them.

I'm just treading water here as waves of juvenile friendship that I never expected and don't know what to do with hit me.

I'm just over here minding my nevermind. I'll let it out here instead of telling them about how I feel about their friendship because it's not my business and I don't even know anything anyway.

I was not prepared for this.

This whole friends outside of the family thing.

Time to man up and get over it all. On the inside as well as the outside.

Good job, girlies. I'm proud of you for being nice and likable and having friends and liking people.

And that's that.





 

First Friendships as a Twin

My twins do everything together. They've never been apart. They prefer to be together always, and like I've said before, I'm just convincing them that they don't have to compete over all the specifics and that they can (gasp) like or want different things at the same time.

Any friendships they've had thus far, they've made as a unit. Lilly and Dulce make a friend. As LillyandDulce. It's all they know.

The only friendship they've nourished as separate people has been the friendship they have with each other. And let's face it, that friendship is weird.

As twins, they are always together. They do everything together. They play every game together. They make every move together. They discuss every decision together. They eat together, sleep together, watch movies together, do any activity together.

To them, that is what friendship means. Friendship means together. And it means together all the time.

At school, for the first time, they've been able to pick their friends...as separate people. Of course, the friends kind of picked them, since they would have been content just to be with each other all day, but miracle of miracles, one little girl picked each of the girls to be her best bud.

And the girls took to that like wildfire. Now Lilly talks about her friend A when she comes home, and Dulce talks about her friend N. I've seen it happen, too. They get to school and they go off with their separate friend.

Of course, those friends didn't really know what they were getting themselves into.

Because right now (and I'm sure this will get better as the girls get a better grasp on how to actually socially relate to people), the girls are treating their friends like their "school twin."

You can imagine Dulce's shock and amazement when N wanted to play with someone else for a while.

"Mommy," she said on the car ride home, "Today I was playing with N, but then she wanted to go do something else with R, and she didn't want me to come."

"Oh, well, what did you do?"

The answer was matter of fact. No hurt feelings. No "that moment when" awkwardness.

"I followed her."

I felt a parental twinge then. I didn't want my girls to go around annoying their friends because their friends didn't want to stick to them like glue. There are 20 kids in the class. Sometimes the friends will want to play with someone else. And sometimes the girls could use that time to find even more friends.

I tried to explain that to them.

They nodded and said okay.

I don't think that this is going to be an issue as they grow, but I found this in-between stage really interesting. Right now, they're still stuck on their one new friend. I'm curious to see how it will all turn out.



 

Special Days -- Twins' Style

My twins are four. They know they are different people. They know it. Yet their lives revolve around this fierce competition, a strange competition, in which no one must win or lose, but all things must be equal at all times. At the same time.

I've just recently gotten them to start accepting different snacks if the want different things. Previously, the twin that wanted something, wanted the other twin to also have it, even if she didn't want it, and if that twin wasn't eating it, then never mind, they didn't want any snack at all.

Not having power over the brain and desires of the other twin eats at the girls day in and day out.
 Related to this, one cannot have anything special that the other does not get exactly at that moment. I mean, they can, but they hate it, and it results in some very tactical movements on my part for days.

It's understandable in a way. I mean, they even share a birthday, the most special of days. This is a hard concept for them. But it must be taught. They must understand. It's not a slight to one when the other does or gets something good.

That's something even adults struggle with. When a friend meets with success, we cannot take it as a bad reflection on ourselves. Yet sometimes we do. Doubly so with twins who are only four years old.

Hah! I just told Dulce she was a good girl. Lilly immediately asked, "I'm not a good girl?"

Point.

Anyway, the preschool operates on a system of "special days." These are the days each student is responsible for snack and gets to do things like lead the line and sit in the center of the circle.

Every time our special days come (and they're one right after the other, thank goodness), it is mayhem here all week. The first twin constantly harping on how it is going to be her special day first, and the second twin pitching fits about it.

The entire time we prepare, I have to fend off tantrums and ultimatums, constantly explaining about turns and sharing. Constantly affirming that they are separate girls and deserve their own special day.

Yesterday, we made these:

Why, yes, they are chocolate covered pretzels made to look like pumpkins. Because I am a pinterest master. But that's beside the point.

During the craft, I had a glorious reprieve, in which Dulce finally let up and started having a good time. She accepted that she would go second. Or so she said.

I should have known she meant for that one second, and she'd go right back to complaining about it as soon as the craft was over.

I hope to report that as the year progresses, the girls get used to this. And not for their maturity and grace, but for my sanity.


 

Oh, Hey! There's a Person Under Here!

Preschool has been a shiny wonder of amazement in many ways. I'm only going to concentrate on one, and while it is connected to that incredible three-hour stretch of "free" time (ie: time I get to clean the house and work on my projects), it is not wholly that. I mean, having those three childless hours is a given euphoria.

No, what has surprised me the most about my gap of child-filled minutes is...me.

I'm here.

And you wouldn't think this would be a big deal to someone like me. Someone who continually screams to the universe about how important they are and how much they matter.

But it is.

Because I forgot. Even while telling everyone that I didn't forget. I forgot.

I forgot how to interact with people without deferring to my kids. I forgot how to look someone in the eye when they talk because I'm usually making sure no one is running into traffic. I forgot how to listen to all the words the other person is saying because I'm expecting an arm tug and an "excuse me, mama."

Moms wonder about why they have trouble making friends after they have kids, and while I'm sure it's all the other things we all say it is, maybe it's also because we can no longer make meaningful conversation with anyone in real time.

The other day at Starbucks, a woman said to me randomly, "How are you today? Nice day, isn't it?"

It took me a minute to respond. When was the last time someone in public said that to me? Probably four years and three months ago, to be honest. Because when you have kids, the conversation starters are: "Are they twins?" (in my case). "How old are they?" "They're so cute!" "What are they're names?"

The kids become mini us-delegates. And not that I mind being represented by a couple of four year olds, but now that I get to represent myself for a few hours a day, I realize, actually, I kind of do. Because they don't paint an accurate picture of me. And the frustration I feel due to that incomplete glance that someone else gets into my life prohibits me from trying to show them more. Because why bother? It will only end in "excuse me, mama" or worse, tears.

I forgot what being in public was like, when people are looking at you, and not your kids. In a way, having the kids as a buffer is great. No one sees you (mostly), so you don't have to act (if you're the acting sort). They only see your kids.

And there's no resentment there. I didn't even know it had happened until it stopped. It just is. Anytime I have gone out in the last four years, I have not existed. I mean, I was there, and I spoke, and I listened and I nodded, and they nodded. But I wasn't there.

The kids overshadowed me completely. I didn't mind, as I keep saying. It's quite odd now, to not have their little shadows to cling to. It had been kind of nice to deflect any attention we might get onto them. Because while people might judge adults, mostly the kids (if they're being good), garner only oohs and ahhs. I can live with that.

I have to add, getting out once every few weeks for an hour by myself didn't count. I still wasn't me. I may have been by myself, but my mind was on the kids. Missing them, wondering what they were doing, if they needed me, etc. I didn't see anyone else. If I was spoken to, it was just as if the kids were there because they were taking up space in my mind. The space they would have been taking up had they been physically present.

It's so amazing to think that I used to just walk around as a person all the time. As a me. Just, la la la, here I am, with no one to deflect attention onto, just doing my thing, like a me does. La la.

I'm happy to get a little bit of that back.

And you know what?

I'm equally happy not to have to do it all the time.

I'm getting to a good balance of mom and me, and four is a wonderful age.




 

Growing Up, the Good and Bad

My little girls are in preschool. Both in the 'wow, they're growing up' way, and in the 'they are actually, right now, not in my house' way. Both ways are fantastic.

But, let's talk about growing up. I have a hard time with change and passage of time, and growing up captures both of these fears in its inevitable way. I had more than two years with my kids at home. With nothing but my kids at home. After having worked for the first 18 months of their lives, I was happy to spend this time with them, to get to know them, to guide them, all that sappy stuff.

But, being inundated with them, day in and day out, I had a hard time appreciating them, their phase in life. I was annoyed, touched out, sometimes even snappish. They are a lot. A lot of everything. And I knew better, I really did. But I can't help my nature, and that nature is not very patient. So my impatience definitely hampered some of my time with them. Instead of always growing with them, playing with them, and excusing their age-appropriate behavior, I wished the days by. Enough is enough is too much of this.

But it's time I'll never get back. And I'm thankful for the times when I was able to take a step back and really look at my babies...for who they were at two and three and four. Now that they're gone for three hours a day, we can never go back to the full-time, all-the-time, never-apart years again. This is it. They're in school now for the rest of their lives with me. So, really, those two years weren't so long, were they?

And, of course, my friend is torturing me with sappy songs about kids growing up and not giving a damn about their parents anymore, while the parents remember so poignantly the first years of life.

The love a baby/toddler/preschooler has for her mother is beyond any other love I've ever experienced. It truly is unconditional. My kids love me hard. They love me so hard.

Will that go away with time?

I fear that. I want them to love me like this, like I love them, for all of their lives, with no breaks for angsty teenage years, no breaks as they struggle to figure out who they are apart from me.

So, while I relish that my kids are growing up and this is how it should be, I am also incredibly sad that these years, this love, will also change and grow. I want my cake while eating it. As always.

I love you, girls.


 

Moment of the Week - 70: Row Your Boat

Row, row, row your boat.

Toddler Tricks - 68: Complain Loud and Clear

Problem: You've signed you child up for some activity. Whether it started out strong and slowly began to dwindle or it just wasn't what you expected from the start, both you and your child are disappointed in the program. Do you know how many people are quiet about this? I just found out. So, I have a solution.

Solution: Complain. No, seriously, complain. List up your problems, bring them to the directly, lay it out factually, and withdraw your participation. In my case, we're staying until December because I've paid up till then, and no refunds are given. But I still complained.

It took me three weeks. You see, we go to gym, art and music sessions every Saturday. The first few weeks, all sections were organized, in place and fun. Then it all fell apart. The first time they told me the woman who did the music had moved and they couldn't find a replacement quickly enough for the weekend. A bunch of parents stood around for a bit, then accepted the explanation and shoved off. The second week, most of the parents left right after art. I didn't. I asked about music.

"We don't do music on Saturdays," they said. "We never have."

For real? Because that's not what I experienced just two weeks ago. And at my insistence, the instructors put on an impromptu music class for the few of us that were left.

The next week, same thing.

With that and a few other disappointments in programming, I decided it was time to withdraw.

"Oh, why?" the director asked me.

And I told her, in list form, going through program by program what my issues were. I wasn't mad. This place houses a lot of kids; it's only natural that they would lose some oomph as time went on. There is only so much one could expect. I just calmly knew that this wasn't the place for us, and I calmly told them why when they asked.

The next weekend, we bumped into one of the instructors. I was surprised to find that my list had been taken somewhat seriously. At least, he knew about it. He apologized to me, and thanked me for the criticisms.

Today, they had gym, art and music. Granted, the music class was just a bunch of instruments thrown into a room with dance tunes playing in the background, but that's enough for me. That's all three year olds need, anyway.

So, moral is, complain if you aren't satisfied with what you're getting. Every once in a while, they actually listen.

Preschool Woes

"Mama, I don't want to go to school. I want to stay home."
"But you like school, don't you?"
"No, I don't like it."
"Well, what do you do in school. Play games? Read stories? Make sandcastles? Feed ducks? Sing?"
"Yeah! We sing. Read stories!"
"Isn't it fun?"
"Yes, it's fun...but you don't leave, okay? Don't leave, mama."
"Well, I have to leave to do some work, but I come back to get you, right?"
"Noooooooo. Don't leave! Don't leave, mama. I want to stay home. I want to do work with you."
"Who are your teachers at school? Crystal? Tiffany? Ashley?"
"Yeah, Crystal. Where's Crystal?"
"She's at school. Let's go say hi to her."
"Okay, we'll say hi, but then let's go home, okay?"
"We'll go home soon, after you do an art project and sing some songs."
"No, I don't want to. I don't want to go to school."
"But why?"
"Because I don't like to."
"Well, it's time to get in the car. Let's go say goodbye to Daddy."
"Daddy, I cry, I cry, Daddy. I don't want to go to school."
"Well, don't you have fun at school."
"Yes, ballet."
"That's right, ballet. And other things, too. And then Mommy will be back."
"No, I don't want to go to school."

...

At the school:
"Hold me, hold me, Mama. I don't want to go. I need to stay with you."
"Okay, I'll hold you, but let's go to the classroom."
"Don't leave, okay? Don't leave."

...

I stay and make some sandcastles with them.

"Okay, mommy, you go, okay. You come back."
"Yes, I'll come back."

...

I go to leave.

Cue screaming, crying madness.

This is wearing on all of us. They have a good time at school, so why the drama? They only go twice a week and I pick them up on time and watch their extra classes with them. Preschool is proving to be very hard for us, for some reason. I don't get it.

The Rules of Preschool

This will be the preschool edition. Here's a list of things that I have learned these past two weeks, the hard way.

1) When you drop your kid off, drop him off and go. They told me to do this. I didn't believe them. The first day I stayed for ten minutes or so, comforting them and telling them over and over again that I'd be back. Sounds like a good plan, right? The teachers know preschoolers, but they don't know mine, right? Mine maybe just need a little reassurance that everything will be okay.

No. Apparently (shocker, I know), the teachers do know best. Lingering confuses them, and, eventually, they'll cry either way. I stayed there for almost a half hour this morning, and when I left (and I was thisclose to taking the twins with me) they were still carrying on. I made the teachers' jobs much harder. And if they're going to cry and freak out either way, why tease them with your presence, leaving them in confusion as to what is going to happen next? Consistency is the key for three year olds. If they don't know how long you are going to stay, or when you are going to say goodbye, they worry it the whole time and make it bigger than it is.

I thought they would be comforted. That it would show them that I love them very much and will stay until they're satisfied. But in their ideal world, I would never leave them. And so the time stretches and gets harder on them, on me, and on the teachers. Drop them and go. If they are going to freak out, they are going to freak out either way. And I've watched on the other side of the window. It's true what they say. The kids are fine once you've left.

2) Find a half-day program, and if you can't, don't go pick them up in the middle of the day. I have been picking the twins up around 12:30 / 1 every afternoon. That's when all the kids go down for a nap, and I'm home and I'd rather them sleep in their own beds than on little plastic mats on the floor. After they slept and ate, I would bring them back for dance, or music, or drama or whatever specials class they had that day. This worked great for the first two weeks. I loved it. I got to see them in the middle of the day, they got to sleep in their own beds and I was sure they were well-rested and well-fed before bringing them back.

This drives the inconsistency of their day way up. If you are going to pick them up, you pick them up and bring them home full stop. They apparently don't appreciate seeing you and then having to go through the whole thing again in the afternoons. I've also been confusing them because I'll stay with them for the classes. This, again, worked well the first few times. The last time, one of my kids wouldn't let go of me and wouldn't participate in the class. The other always follows her lead, so I had two unhappy children not partaking in the fun class I'd signed them up for. They'd rather hang out up in my uterus, apparently.

3) Don't do a two-day program. Again, inconsistency. The teacher told me today, while tears were streaming down my face at the absolute monstrosity that was dropping them off this morning, that children who only go to preschool two days a week have it the hardest. She says it's because they never know what their day is going to be like.

I thought it would be a nice way to break them into this school thing. You know, gradually. A little at a time. They still get mommy five days a week, and two days a week they get extra-special-fun-extravaganza school. But toddlers don't understand days of the week. To toddlers, every time is the present. They are just grasping the fact that the past does exist and the future...they hardly understand it, although they try. As they work on getting the general idea down, there's no way they will understand that on Tuesdays and Thursdays we go to the preschool and mommy drops you off, then on Saturdays we go to the preschool and mommy stays with you because it's specials day.

A quick example of how bound my toddlers are to routine: Last week, Starbucks rolled out the Pumpkin Spice latte and I got one before picking them up from school. I gave them a sip. On that Thursday, I got another one. I gave them a sip. This Tuesday I was over it and decided I don't need to spend $4 every time I go out without the babies, so I didn't get one. I heard about how we didn't get coffee and we needed coffee for hours. After getting it only twice. My kids, at least, need routine.

They never know whether they are coming or going. Since staying home is their most comfortable routine, they cling to the monster they know, instead of braving a new, and quite fun, world.

It's the inconsistency that breeds fear of abandonment, not your presence or lack thereof. If you consistently drop them off and consistently pick them up, they know what to expect. And toddlers, above all else, need to know what to expect. Otherwise they are scared. And leaving a scared child at school is almost unthinkable to me.

So, now that I've made a royal mess of things, what is there for me to do? I plan on keeping on keeping on, but today truly broke my heart. Don't be me. I might know my children better than the teachers, but the teachers know childhood behavior better than I do. If you're going to do something, you've got to do it. Wishy-washy flip-flopping will only serve to confuse, agitate and upset your little ones...which I'm pretty sure will be the opposite of your intent.


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The Hygiene Hypothesis Disproved

Vindication for my dear friend, Jo.

As you know by now, we've been sick since preschool started. We're on day 13 of "oh, so I guess we're all still sick." We're at the point where we're sure every night before we go to bed, that this is it. This was the last day of lingering sickness.

Then the cough starts up. The cough that keeps everyone awake at different intervals throughout the night. We do steamed bathrooms, honey, vapor rub, water, head elevation. We read stories and chat quietly. We hug and love. We do not sleep.

The morning breaks, and here we all are, still sick, but surely today will be the last day of it, am I right?

Last week, I checked Dulce's throat and saw that her tonsils were swollen. Red alert. Emergency doctor visit time.

Of course, I was sure these were the biggest any tonsils had ever been ever in the history of mankind. The doctor laughed at that. "Slightly swollen," she said. "A virus that we can't do anything about," she said.

At least it's not strep, right?

But then she said something that showed me just how much I actually did buy into the Hygiene Hypothesis, and just how wrong I was.

"Is it normal for viruses to last this long?" I asked.

"Anywhere from one to three weeks," she said, offhandedly. "But since you've got twins, they're probably passing it back and forth between them, and who knows how long it will be around."

Wait, what?

You mean to tell me that my kids are not building immunities to this specific virus as we speak? You mean they're still susceptible to the exact same germs they've been fighting and winning against for a week?

Yup.

And if the babies can ping pong the same virus back and forth to each other while they are sick already, there goes the "they're already past the contagious stage," right? I mean, how are we to know when they are contagious or not? Clearly, they can infect each other or anyone else at any time. That annoying, persistent cough must still be transmitting the germs I thought were not transferable after a certain number of days.

So, really, the Hygiene Hypothesis seems to be a bunch of hype parents tell themselves to make themselves feel better. No one is getting immune, and diseases aren't becoming non-contagious after a few days. With the understandably slack rules about ill children in preschool, no wonder we're all sick all the time.

So, Jo, my hat's off to you. You win this bout. Now, how about you come over for some tea and lunch? I hear the babies are past the contagious stage. It should be just fine, right? What's a little runny nose?


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The Hygiene Hypothesis, Take Two

Jo has a problem with germs. A big problem. She hates them and has waged full-out war with them, and I, for one, support her cause...at least armchair style.  You see, Jo's motto goes like this: " Avoid What You Can, Deal With What You Can't."

I simply cannot avoid all the germs she can. I have a life.

The other day, Jo wrote about the "Hygiene Hypothesis" (something I hadn't heard by that name, but, of course, knew what it was), using my children's first day at preschool and subsequent immediate illness as an example.

Now, everybody told me my kids were going to be sick all year, from now until at least December, when maybe their unused immune systems would catch up to the rest of the world. They told me this because as a stay at home mom, the babies have seen me and the inside of this house about a million times more than they've seen anything else. They simply haven't been exposed to real-life germs.  According to the hypothesis mentioned above, this means they'll be prime real estate for those Mucinex-commercial guys. I bought into this, especially when the girls did indeed get sick the next afternoon. I referred to our lives as having been in a bubble.

Correctly, Jo informed me, that, no, we do not live in a bubble. She's right. We go to the grocery store. We go to the park. We have playdates, go to the library. We go to the Playland at the mall (shudder). We use public restrooms (my daughter is finally coming back around to big potties after I flipped out about someone leaving a turd in there. Bum bum germs that I can't see? Those don't usually cross my mind. Bum bum germs sitting in log form in the toilet my babies have to use. ACK ACK ACK. My reaction, obviously, made a big impression on the girls.)

Which brings me to my point, my one weapon against the cleaner of the clean. The microcosm of the public restroom experience gives great insight into the mind of a child and that child's relationship with her parents on a subconscious level. Dulce was more than ready to jump on the OMG I'm scared to death of this thing and that thing and this thing, and AHHHHHH! All she needed was a slight push from me. All she needed was to see me bolt from a bathroom one time, see me wrinkle my nose in disgust, see me complain to my husband about the indecency of some turd-leaving adults.

Those ten seconds of her life impacted her thoroughly for the next two months. We must be so careful.

I try never to go over the top with anything in our lives because I don't know how my reactions impact my girls. I want to keep them on an even keel. I'm not saying Jo doesn't, but I know in my family's case (particular to Dulce) they take strong cues from me. Another example is hand-washing. After the babies got sick last week, I implemented an even stronger hand-washing rule. No more was hand-washing just for after bathroom breaks and before meals, and after play. Hand-washing was all the time. Let's get rid of these foul germs, right? Let's wash them away. You can never have too much hand washing, right?

Wrong. At least in my case.

Within a few hours of this new regiment, I had a toddler melting down about not being able to wash her hands 24 hours a day. She washed her hands, then dried them, then wanted to wash them again. And again. And again. She tantrumed for a long time because her hands had dried and I wouldn't let her wash them again. Enough is enough.

Yes, washing your hands is good. Yes, it's clean and I advocate it strongly for everyone. But to the point of compulsion? If I see a compulsive tendency popping up in my kid, taking care of that (provided they don't have a mental block that predisposes them to compulsions in general) trumps hand washing.

Mental health as important as physical health.

I want my kids to be able to experience life to the fullest. I want them to run and play and jump and learn. They can't do that in a sterilized bathroom while they wash their hands over and over again.

So, again, I advocate moderation. My babies know about germs. They know that we are to avoid them. They will repeat endlessly in a public restroom, "don't touch ANYTHING," because that's what I tell them every time we enter.

But they touch grocery carts. The very same grocery carts that another child just wiped his nose all over, I'm sure. They slide down slides at the park and the playland and then, I'm sure, they touch their faces. I had to tell Natalina yesterday to please stop biting the outer wrapper of the goldfish bag. After the cashier and bagger had touched it, and the stocker and any number of children who wanted it before their parents put it back on the shelf.

They really haven't lived in a bubble, and that's okay. I'd rather them be sick sometimes if it allows them to live a little.

As far as the hypothesis goes, I don't really know if I believe in it. I certainly think that the babies will not be able to catch all the germs they need to in preschool in order to be germless for the rest of their lives.

Whatever the case may be, I don't think I'm better or worse than Jo. I do, however, feel pretty positive that we're both better than her "Acid Test" friends. But who knows even that? Maybe in ten years, we'll all succumb to a plague and the Acid Testers will be the only ones to survive because they've rendered themselves immune. Then the hypothesis will be a theory, won't it?

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Toddler Tricks - 56: Count Me Down...Another Leaving Trick

Problem: Your loving toddler cannot even bear the thought of a single moment without you, but you've got to run into the store for 30 seconds, and that 30 seconds would stretch into 15 minutes if you brought her instead of leaving her in the car with her father. Or you forgot something in your home and need to slip back inside to get it for a moment, and that moment wouldn't exist should you drag your toddler with you. So, you leave them outside with your trusted friend for just a mere moment. But, no. Tears, screams, where's mommy, the world is ending.

Solution: This worked for me randomly earlier this summer, and I've been using it since. Tell your kid to count you down. If they know their numbers, even if they don't but they know some numbers they can list randomly, this will give them something to do while you're gone. They can concentrate on counting instead of your absence. Toddlers also tend to think they have control in places they do not. They will firmly believe that it is their counting and not the passage of time that brings you back. Once they feel like they are in control of the situation, they feel more secure.


Problem: You have to drop them off at preschool or daycare, and there's no way they can count to 10 or 20 enough times to bring you back.

Solution: Tell them to count you down anyway. At this point, they are used to you reappearing after this game, and so it's not so much the numbers that are important. Count you down becomes toddler code for, I'm coming back. Don't worry, I'm coming back. I've found it works better than me actually telling them "I'm coming back." Maybe it's the shift of control I mentioned above. I'm coming back gives the control to the adult. Count me down gives it to the toddler. Even though they'll not be counting when you go to pick them back up, I find that my toddler remind me they counted me down so I came back. It's cut down on many tears and turbulence.

Welcome to the Cesspool, I mean, Preschool

So, it is Thursday. The babies should be well into their learning and playing at preschool. But no. They're here with me. Watching Sesame St., no less.

This is not because I feel I can do a better job teaching them abstract concepts. It's certainly not because I'm doing such a stellar job socializing them on my own. As much as I complained and worried on Tuesday, I didn't pull them out because I missed them too much or because they were miserable and unable to survive without me. (They actually had a great time, with a few tears thrown in here and there for good measure. When I went to pick them up, they were pretty much leading the class in story time. Heart melted.)

No, I think preschool is going to be good for us. Except for one thing. The germs.

Yes, the babies are home sick today. Yes, they got sick on the first day of preschool. The first day. You could have knocked me over with a feather when they started sneezing yesterday afternoon. I could not believe it. Which, of course, is silly. You can't live in a bubble for the first three years of your life and expect germs not to find their way in when you venture out into the world of snot and grime and sniffle-ridden kids.

But the first day? I admit, I expected them to last longer than that. And, because I'm always so prepared, I had no idea about the school's sick policy. I called to let them know this morning, although I wasn't sure if I needed to. Through that conversation, I learned two very important things:

1) The babies are going to be sick all of the time. The woman was very kind to me and basically laughed at my description of their illness and told me to feel free to drop them off because there was nothing wrong with them. "As long as they're not throwing up and they don't have a fever over 101, you can come on and bring them in, any time."

Oh.

Now, this is great because kids get colds and what are you going to do, right? Viruses are viruses, and I'm sure at this stage, my kids aren't contagious anymore anyway...or something. Plus, most people actually have lives and are busy during the hours their kids are in preschool, making it a huge inconvenience for them to stay home.

Of course, that's not the case for me. The only difference in my life is an hour more of television for the girls while I write this at home on my couch. I'd be here writing this either way.

2) People are going to send sick kids in a lot. Why? The preschool does not give you a switch day, nor does it give you your money back if you don't utilize its services for any reason. I totally understand this, but I had to ask, especially since I figure the babies will be sick more than not. It's not cheap to send twins to preschool. I can't just be having them skip days because I want to coddle them. I mean, I can and I will, I'm sure, but I really can't afford it. I'm doubting any other parent can either.

Welcome to the cesspool. At least they're having fun, right?


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