Chlorophyll and Echinoderms

One day when I was in high school, I was walking with a friend to class when I asked if he was ready for the test we were about to take. "Test? What test?!" he said and then frantically spent the two minutes before the test scanning the headings in the chapter. After the test was over, my friend put his head down on the desk and then fell asleep. Our teacher walked by and hit the desk to wake him, all the while shaking his head and talking about students who don't "feel the need" to participate and how it would reflect in their grades.

The next day in class our teacher handed back our tests from highest to lowest scores making sure to point out which students managed to pull a 100%. He called the name of my friend first and did a double-take when he realized that the perfect paper belonged to the kid who he had already decided was "slacker" material.

Chipmunk reminds me a lot of this friend in the fact that he understands a lot more than he lets on. I realized this when he brought up a conversation with me over lunch.

Chipmunk: Mommy, did you know that plants suck in water through their roots and mix with sunlight to make chlorophyll?
Me: You're learning about chlorophyll, are you?
Chipmunk: Yeah. Plants make chlorophyll in their leaves.
Me: Yup. That's right.

Also, lately he's been playing with some old Koosh balls (remember those?) and dragging them around the house calling them his pet "sea urchins."

Me: Pet sea urchins?
Chipmunk: Yes, they're my pet sea urchins.
Me: So, no dogs, cats, or hamsters for you?
Chipmunk: Nope. I like sea urchins.
Me: What is it that you like so much about them?
Chipmunk: They have tube feet and lots of spines.

Sometimes he has literary conversations with his sister. This was their conversation the other day:

Chipmunk: Do you know what a "text-to-text connection" is?
Bear: Yeah. It has to do with when you're reading one book and you see how it says similar things in another book.
Chipmunk: Oh! I was wondering what that was. Like if you read something in a fiction book and you see it also in a non-fiction book?
Bear: Uh, I guess so.

Or our conversations in the car on the way back from a late night at church…

Chipmunk: I wish I had a bed in the car.
Matt: You do. It's called your car seat.
Chipmunk: No, like a real bed that you can activate when you're tired.
Me: (whispering to Matt) Did your son just say "activate?" Where did he pick up that word?
Matt: (shrugs shoulders)

There is just so much going on in his brain. I can't keep up.

[fill in the blank] Mom

"Are you an 'attachment parenting' mom or a 'cry-it-out method' mom?"

It seems that there is always some label associated with being a mom.

"Are you a 'stay-at-home' mom or are you a 'working' mom?"

"Look at you, 'soccer' mom!"

Even a radio station where I used to live had a segment where they would speak to a "mad-mom-in-a-minivan."

I hated all the labels. It made me feel so stuck as a mom, that everyone knew what type of person I was because I carried my baby all the time or because I made my baby cry themselves to sleep. As a SAHM (stay-at-home mom, for those of you who don't know), I felt confined to fit a certain role, some sort of "ideal" mom role that I often stressed myself out over when I found I just couldn't manage it all. Some moms seem to have it all together, but me I was crying over the fact that I could barely brush my teeth in the morning.

So I changed my perspective and decided that I needed to forget the labels and just become a "survival" mom. This meant that my parenting books would have to be taken with a grain of salt, advice from others should be considered a suggestion not something I had to follow lest be looked down upon, and overall I just needed to do and decide what was a priority and let the rest go.

I also decided that the labels needed to go, but I tell you I'm still learning how to do that.

A couple weeks ago at a soccer game I was watching another mom yelling at her five-year-old on the field.

"You can do better than that!"

"Just kick it in the goal! Kick it in the goal!"

"Where are you going? The ball is over here!"

I turned to my friend next to me and whispered, "If I ever become THAT mom who yells at my kids' games, please kick me in the shins."

Later as I thought about it, I realized I shouldn't have said that. I had just labelled another mom using the most ambiguous yet negatively-connoted "THAT" mom. Even if I wasn't necessarily speaking about the mom that I saw at the field, but rather moms in general who I thought were too hard on their kids at the soccer field, I still shouldn't have said that.

Because who gives me the right to judge moms without knowing anything about them or their kids? Nobody. Instead I proved to myself that I was THAT mom...you know, the judgmental one who wishes she could take the time machine back and do a retake? Instead I'll just have to settle for being THIS mom...the one who takes her thoughtless words and hopefully learns not to make that mistake again.

Yup. HUMBLED Mom. That I am.

Tiger Sister

There was so much debate and chatter about Tiger Moms for a while there. Even in everyday conversations with friends the occasional, "I sound like such a Tiger Mom," would come up now and then. It was to the point where it became a verb:

"Wow, he's reading already? Did you 'Tiger Mom' him?"

Full disclosure time: Yes, Chipmunk is reading. Yes, he is reading beyond his grade level. No, I did not "Tiger mom" him. In fact, it was his sister who taught him how to read. It was his sister who pushed him to read more. There were occasions when I caught his sister using flashcards on him (when he was 3 years old and she was 5) in order to teach him how to read sight words.

Even now, during homework time I don't have to keep Chipmunk on track. Bear does it all. Some things I've heard:

"Did you finish your homework? Would you like me to check it for you?"

"You're not writing straight enough. Erase it and do it again."

"Wow, you're really getting better. Good job!"

She's either going to grow up to be a teacher or a Tiger mom. For my future grandkids' sake I hope it's the former.

Thank God for the Trees

Before our prayers one night I asked the kids what they were thankful for. Bear was thankful for family, friends and for her hard-working dad. Chipmunk on the other hand...

Me: What are you thankful for?

Chipmunk: I'm thankful for deciduous trees that go dormant.

Matt & Me: (blink, blink)

Bear: What did he just say?

Sometimes, you just never know what is going to come out of that kid's mouth. As a side note, he did in fact learn about how apple trees are deciduous in kindergarten that morning, so I'm thankful that he has a great teacher.

School Starts and the Germs Follow

It's always such a rush when school starts. The excitement of getting back in the classroom, new teachers, new lessons, handfuls of fundraisers, new routines and schedules...

Then the germs...

This year is no different. As the first few weeks have gone by, students are missing one by one as they're quarantined at home with illnesses that other students in class have passed along. In our area there is this "sore throat and cough" thing that is slowly making its way from classroom to classroom...



Chipmunk had something. I don't know what it was, but he managed to throw up in class (Yup, I got that phone call...). He was super tired and not eating much, but otherwise fine. It passed after a day.



Bear, on the other hand, caught that "sore throat and cough" thing and ended up with a fever for three days. By the third day she was ready to head back to school, but we had to make sure to comply with the rules to not go to school unless she's been fever-free for at least 24 hours.

I think I bored her enough during those days that she was excited to head back to school.

The moral of the story? Wash your hands. Always wash your hands. You never know what you might pick up.

Crooked Line of Logic

Chipmunk has some interesting thought progressions. It's evident in many of our conversations with him. Take our conversation this past week as I was cooking dinner.

Chipmunk: (holding up his index finger) I want to touch the fire.

Me: No, you don't.

Chipmunk: Why not?

Matt: (joining in the conversation) You'll burn your finger.

Chipmunk: Will it hurt?

Matt: It will hurt a lot and you won't be able to use your finger for anything like picking your nose, playing with your legos, holding things...

Chipmunk: What about if I use my pinky finger to touch it?

Me: No!

Matt: You need your pinky finger.

Chipmunk: (after a few seconds of thought) Then what finger don't I need?

It's a logical thought process, right? It's just a bit crooked. That's our Chipmunk for you.