"I can do anything/ I am strong/ I am invincible/ I am woman." - "I Am Woman" by Helen Reddy
First off, I really hate that song. It's so annoying, but it fits this post so I'm going with it. I was thinking the other day about how much I have changed since I was a teenager, and one thing that stood out to me the most was how I react in certain situations.
I have always considered myself to be a feminist. I think that women can do anything men can do, I believe in equal rights and equal pay (it makes me furious that women in America still only make $0.77 on the dollar compared to men), and most certainly do not feel like I belong to the "weaker sex". And I will proudly and loudly voice my opinions whenever I feel it's necessary. That will never change. But when I was a little bit younger, I would actually get a little angry, offended even, if a guy tried to open a door for me, offered to carry my things, or do something for me that I was perfectly capable of doing myself. I think I knew that they were just trying to be polite or helpful, but I took it to mean that they thought I couldn't get the job done on my own. I was a little too proud and stubborn for my own good.
That changed a few years ago when I started going places with the kids on a regular basis. When I had two toddlers in tow, plus a diaper bag and enough other junk to last us a week on a desert island, I found myself smiling and offering my heartfelt thanks if someone opened the door for me, picked up something I had dropped, or offered to help me out to the car with my purchases. It took me being in a more vulnerable state to learn that it's okay to accept help when someone offers it. It doesn't mean I am any less strong of a woman, of a person, or that I am dependent on others to get through my day. It just means that maybe sometimes it's okay to not be the one who has to do it all. Even for little things like I have mentioned here. Sometimes it's better to accept someone's act of good will and then pay it forward. That's what I try to do now, to graciously accept and give back, and I think it's a good example for the kids to see as well. And whenever I see one of them thank someone for helping them, no matter how minor the help was, and then turn around and hold a door open for someone else, help their friends carry their things to the car at school, or offer to help their teachers clean up just because they know it's the nice thing to do, I feel a sense of pride build up inside of me. It looks like they are learning this lesson much faster than I did.
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
The Age of Aquarius
"When the moon is in the seventh house/ And Jupiter aligns with Mars/ Then peace will guide the planets/ And love will steer the stars." - "Aquarius" by The Fifth Dimension
For my 200th post, I thought I would share a funny conversation I heard in the car on Tuesday when I was driving the kids home from school. Just for a little background information, the seven-year-old tends to get very fixated (a nicer way of saying utterly and completely obsessed) on things, and she has always been fascinated with astronomy - planets, the moon, stars, etc. She was doing some research at school that day and somehow discovered zodiac signs. I don't buy into astrology at all and neither do her parents, so I didn't really know what to say about this topic. So I decided to just sit back and let the kids direct this conversation just to see where it would go. It went to a very different place than I could have ever imagined...
Seven-Year-Old: Guess what? I researched zodiac signs today and I discovered that I am a Scorpio, which means scorpian. Did you know that you are a Libra and the symbol for that sign is scales?
Shannon: Yes, I did know that.
Seven: Too bad you weren't born a couple of weeks later. Then we would have the same sign and it would be totally awesome.
Shannon: That would be really fun if we had the same birthday. What made you think to look up zodiac signs at school?
*My question is ignored completely*
Five-Year-Old: Do September birthdays have a special name too? What am I?
Seven: You are a Virgo.
Five: *Scrunches face up and stares at her sister suspiciously* Virgo? What is that supposed to mean?
Seven: It means virgin.
Five: What does virgin mean?
*Shannon keeps her mouth shut and prays that she won't have to figure out an answer for this one.*
Seven: It means that you are like Mary, Jesus's mommy.
Five: But I don't want to have a baby in a barn by stinky cow poop!
Seven: Well, Jesus was born a long time ago when there weren't many hotels, but now there are tons so you can have your babies in a hotel.
Five: But what if I don't want to have babies in a hotel?
Seven: You have to. You're a virgin.
Yes, boys and girls, that is just a sampling of what I hear every day working as a nanny. After that last statement, I quickly steered the conversation toward a song on the radio (No, it wasn't "Like a Virgin") and no mention of the zodiac or virgins was heard again during the 20 minute car ride home - thank God! I just don't get paid enough to teach the kids about the birds and the bees.
For my 200th post, I thought I would share a funny conversation I heard in the car on Tuesday when I was driving the kids home from school. Just for a little background information, the seven-year-old tends to get very fixated (a nicer way of saying utterly and completely obsessed) on things, and she has always been fascinated with astronomy - planets, the moon, stars, etc. She was doing some research at school that day and somehow discovered zodiac signs. I don't buy into astrology at all and neither do her parents, so I didn't really know what to say about this topic. So I decided to just sit back and let the kids direct this conversation just to see where it would go. It went to a very different place than I could have ever imagined...
Seven-Year-Old: Guess what? I researched zodiac signs today and I discovered that I am a Scorpio, which means scorpian. Did you know that you are a Libra and the symbol for that sign is scales?
Shannon: Yes, I did know that.
Seven: Too bad you weren't born a couple of weeks later. Then we would have the same sign and it would be totally awesome.
Shannon: That would be really fun if we had the same birthday. What made you think to look up zodiac signs at school?
*My question is ignored completely*
Five-Year-Old: Do September birthdays have a special name too? What am I?
Seven: You are a Virgo.
Five: *Scrunches face up and stares at her sister suspiciously* Virgo? What is that supposed to mean?
Seven: It means virgin.
Five: What does virgin mean?
*Shannon keeps her mouth shut and prays that she won't have to figure out an answer for this one.*
Seven: It means that you are like Mary, Jesus's mommy.
Five: But I don't want to have a baby in a barn by stinky cow poop!
Seven: Well, Jesus was born a long time ago when there weren't many hotels, but now there are tons so you can have your babies in a hotel.
Five: But what if I don't want to have babies in a hotel?
Seven: You have to. You're a virgin.
Yes, boys and girls, that is just a sampling of what I hear every day working as a nanny. After that last statement, I quickly steered the conversation toward a song on the radio (No, it wasn't "Like a Virgin") and no mention of the zodiac or virgins was heard again during the 20 minute car ride home - thank God! I just don't get paid enough to teach the kids about the birds and the bees.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Teach Them Well
"I believe the children are our future/ Teach them well and let them lead the way." - "The Greatest Love of All" by Whitney Houston
One of the most important traits I have tried to instill in the girls I nanny for is empathy. This has never been a problem for the five year old, but the seven year old is still a little too egocentric for her own good, and I finally made a breakthrough with her a couple of days ago. She was complaining that she was bored, and after hearing her whine for the tenth time or so, I decided that a little life lesson was in order. So I sat down with her and told her exactly what bored is, and it went a little something like this:
"Bored is not having anyone to play with - ever. Bored is not having an adult in your life that devotes their own life to teaching, entertaining, and taking care of you because they love you so much. Bored is not being allowed to go to school. Bored is not being able to play outside and run around with the freedom that children should have. Bored is basically being left to entertain yourself, look after yourself, and survive all on your own. You are not bored. You have everything you could possibly want. You are very loved and you are very lucky."
After my lecture, this normally talkative child stared up at me and was speechless for a moment. Then she started asking questions, but not in her normal smarty-pants kind of way. These questions were thoughtful, careful, and heartfelt. She asked why a child would not be allowed to go school, or play outside, or run around and have fun. She asked why a child wouldn't have a grown up to pay so much attention to them, like how she has both of her parents and me - three people who love her to pieces and will do anything to make sure she has the best life possible. She asked why a child would be alone so much and why a parent would treat them like that. Honestly, I didn't have answers for all of her questions, but I have known children like this, and I think it was time for this extremely privledged child to have a reality check. We talked about the children I have known that lived this kind of life, and she felt so bad for them. She tried to think of solutions to make sure this never happens to another child, the kind of innocent ideas that come from the mind of a child who thinks that telling a caring adult can solve all the problems of the world. Because this is the world she comes from. And now she knows how lucky she is. And you know what? She hasn't said that she is bored since we had that conversation.
Those of us who raise children - the parents, the grandparents, the aunts and uncles, the nannies, the teachers - we don't always know what to do or what to say, but I think I got this one right. To see a child who normally thinks of herself way before she thinks of others, who thinks the worst thing that could ever happen would be if someone called her a name, who's only real worry in life is deciding what to eat for snack or which toy to play with next, suddenly evolve into a person who is so overwhelmed with empathy it brings tears to her eyes, was a very special moment. And we're both better people for having experienced it.
One of the most important traits I have tried to instill in the girls I nanny for is empathy. This has never been a problem for the five year old, but the seven year old is still a little too egocentric for her own good, and I finally made a breakthrough with her a couple of days ago. She was complaining that she was bored, and after hearing her whine for the tenth time or so, I decided that a little life lesson was in order. So I sat down with her and told her exactly what bored is, and it went a little something like this:
"Bored is not having anyone to play with - ever. Bored is not having an adult in your life that devotes their own life to teaching, entertaining, and taking care of you because they love you so much. Bored is not being allowed to go to school. Bored is not being able to play outside and run around with the freedom that children should have. Bored is basically being left to entertain yourself, look after yourself, and survive all on your own. You are not bored. You have everything you could possibly want. You are very loved and you are very lucky."
After my lecture, this normally talkative child stared up at me and was speechless for a moment. Then she started asking questions, but not in her normal smarty-pants kind of way. These questions were thoughtful, careful, and heartfelt. She asked why a child would not be allowed to go school, or play outside, or run around and have fun. She asked why a child wouldn't have a grown up to pay so much attention to them, like how she has both of her parents and me - three people who love her to pieces and will do anything to make sure she has the best life possible. She asked why a child would be alone so much and why a parent would treat them like that. Honestly, I didn't have answers for all of her questions, but I have known children like this, and I think it was time for this extremely privledged child to have a reality check. We talked about the children I have known that lived this kind of life, and she felt so bad for them. She tried to think of solutions to make sure this never happens to another child, the kind of innocent ideas that come from the mind of a child who thinks that telling a caring adult can solve all the problems of the world. Because this is the world she comes from. And now she knows how lucky she is. And you know what? She hasn't said that she is bored since we had that conversation.
Those of us who raise children - the parents, the grandparents, the aunts and uncles, the nannies, the teachers - we don't always know what to do or what to say, but I think I got this one right. To see a child who normally thinks of herself way before she thinks of others, who thinks the worst thing that could ever happen would be if someone called her a name, who's only real worry in life is deciding what to eat for snack or which toy to play with next, suddenly evolve into a person who is so overwhelmed with empathy it brings tears to her eyes, was a very special moment. And we're both better people for having experienced it.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Idiot Wind is Blowing Strong
"Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your mouth/ Blowing down the backroads headin’ south/ Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth/
You’re an idiot, babe/ It’s a wonder that you still know how to breathe." - "Idiot Wind" by Bob Dylan
I am outraged! Seriously, I have seen two things in the past few days that make me want to scream, call social services, and punch idiot parents in their stupid faces. What has gotten me so irate? Allow me to explain.
On Friday, I spent a couple of hours at the park with the girls. This is a nice park in one of the more upscale areas of my town. It's not the kind of place where one would expect to see graffiti on the bathroom walls, cigarette butts on the sidewalks, or evidence of teenage liasons left behind that almost certainly would provoke children to ask some very uncomfortable questions. And most of the people who visit this park fit right in with its wholesome feel. Most people. Then there is the family I saw last week. It was a young couple, late teens maybe, and their little boy who looked like he was about three years old. This sweet child that was running around happily, blissfully unaware that he is the offspring of morons, was wearing a t-shirt that had "Future Pimp" scrawled right across the front. Really? Seriously? Why would a parent do that?!
And please don't think that I feel the bad judgement shown by these parents has anything to do with their age. I think that even though most teenagers/young adults are not ready to be parents, there are always exceptions. That's one reason why I wanted to write the Willow Ryan series, with the main character being a teenage mother having and raising a baby on her own. There are some teenagers out there who are mature, responsible, and selfless enough to successfully raise children, and I find them incredibly inspiring. But these people at the playground, they are just idiots. It doesn't matter if you're 15, 30, or 45, dressing your child in a shirt that proclaims to the world that they will grow up to be a man who sells women for sex is a crime. Or at least it should be. And I am appalled that this shirt even exists.
Then today I saw something else that made smoke and fire shoot out of my ears and nostils like some crazed cartoon character. I had just dropped the kids off at school and was driving through a nice part of downtown Norfolk, VA, when I saw a woman walking with a little girl who was probably about four or five. The woman was dressed in a business suit, she was holding the child's hand, and everything seemed so normal they almost didn't even register in my brain. Until I stopped at a red light and looked at the child. On the back of her shirt was the word "Bootylicious", with an arrow pointing down toward her rear end. I was hoping that maybe I was losing my mind, I had forgotten how to read, or maybe I was going blind and didn't see the words clearly, but no, I was right upon taking a second look.
HOW IS THIS ACCEPTABLE?! Who does these things to their children? Part of a parent's job is to protect their kids, and dressing them in clothes that call negative attention to them, sexualize them, and disrepect them and those of us around them who have an ounce of class and decency, does the exact opposite. Why do things like this even happen? Apparently the idiot wind is blowing really strong in my part of the world.
You’re an idiot, babe/ It’s a wonder that you still know how to breathe." - "Idiot Wind" by Bob Dylan
I am outraged! Seriously, I have seen two things in the past few days that make me want to scream, call social services, and punch idiot parents in their stupid faces. What has gotten me so irate? Allow me to explain.
On Friday, I spent a couple of hours at the park with the girls. This is a nice park in one of the more upscale areas of my town. It's not the kind of place where one would expect to see graffiti on the bathroom walls, cigarette butts on the sidewalks, or evidence of teenage liasons left behind that almost certainly would provoke children to ask some very uncomfortable questions. And most of the people who visit this park fit right in with its wholesome feel. Most people. Then there is the family I saw last week. It was a young couple, late teens maybe, and their little boy who looked like he was about three years old. This sweet child that was running around happily, blissfully unaware that he is the offspring of morons, was wearing a t-shirt that had "Future Pimp" scrawled right across the front. Really? Seriously? Why would a parent do that?!
And please don't think that I feel the bad judgement shown by these parents has anything to do with their age. I think that even though most teenagers/young adults are not ready to be parents, there are always exceptions. That's one reason why I wanted to write the Willow Ryan series, with the main character being a teenage mother having and raising a baby on her own. There are some teenagers out there who are mature, responsible, and selfless enough to successfully raise children, and I find them incredibly inspiring. But these people at the playground, they are just idiots. It doesn't matter if you're 15, 30, or 45, dressing your child in a shirt that proclaims to the world that they will grow up to be a man who sells women for sex is a crime. Or at least it should be. And I am appalled that this shirt even exists.
Then today I saw something else that made smoke and fire shoot out of my ears and nostils like some crazed cartoon character. I had just dropped the kids off at school and was driving through a nice part of downtown Norfolk, VA, when I saw a woman walking with a little girl who was probably about four or five. The woman was dressed in a business suit, she was holding the child's hand, and everything seemed so normal they almost didn't even register in my brain. Until I stopped at a red light and looked at the child. On the back of her shirt was the word "Bootylicious", with an arrow pointing down toward her rear end. I was hoping that maybe I was losing my mind, I had forgotten how to read, or maybe I was going blind and didn't see the words clearly, but no, I was right upon taking a second look.
HOW IS THIS ACCEPTABLE?! Who does these things to their children? Part of a parent's job is to protect their kids, and dressing them in clothes that call negative attention to them, sexualize them, and disrepect them and those of us around them who have an ounce of class and decency, does the exact opposite. Why do things like this even happen? Apparently the idiot wind is blowing really strong in my part of the world.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Children Get Older
"But time makes you bolder/ Even children get older/ And I'm getting older too." - "Landslide" by Stevie Nicks
In just a few days I will be celebrating my six year anniversary with the girls. Six years. For six years, I have been teaching them, taking care of them, loving them, raising them. I have been with their family longer than the little one has been alive, and for more than a fifth of my life. And today it really hit me that they are growing up...way too fast.
When I take them to school, the first thing I do is drop the older one off on the big kids' playground. I have always gotten out of the car and opened the gate for her, because she was too short to reach the lock. A couple of weeks ago I had her try it on her own though, and sure enough, she was just tall enough to do it herself. So today she hopped out of the minivan and went over to the gate, opened it with no problem, turned and waved, and walked off. A lump instantly formed in my throat as I watched this child walk away, this child who I first met when she was 12 months old, barely able to take two steps without falling over, and now she's growing up, independent, and walking away. And it happened so fast.
I know this is a good thing, but it tears me up a little inside too. I'm not her mom; I don't get to stay with her until she's 18 and goes off to college. I will be gone before then, and the realization of the temporary nature of my job hit me like a ton of bricks this morning. If I'm lucky, I'll have another couple of years with them, and it's not enough. It's just not enough.
Then as I walked the little one to her playground, this child who was born fiesty, independent, and with more confidence in her little finger than most people will ever have in their lives, grabbed my hand and said, "Thanks for walking with me. I'm glad I don't have to walk alone like Sissy." All I could do was try to hold back the tears, smile, and say, "Me too, sweetheart, me too."
In just a few days I will be celebrating my six year anniversary with the girls. Six years. For six years, I have been teaching them, taking care of them, loving them, raising them. I have been with their family longer than the little one has been alive, and for more than a fifth of my life. And today it really hit me that they are growing up...way too fast.
When I take them to school, the first thing I do is drop the older one off on the big kids' playground. I have always gotten out of the car and opened the gate for her, because she was too short to reach the lock. A couple of weeks ago I had her try it on her own though, and sure enough, she was just tall enough to do it herself. So today she hopped out of the minivan and went over to the gate, opened it with no problem, turned and waved, and walked off. A lump instantly formed in my throat as I watched this child walk away, this child who I first met when she was 12 months old, barely able to take two steps without falling over, and now she's growing up, independent, and walking away. And it happened so fast.
I know this is a good thing, but it tears me up a little inside too. I'm not her mom; I don't get to stay with her until she's 18 and goes off to college. I will be gone before then, and the realization of the temporary nature of my job hit me like a ton of bricks this morning. If I'm lucky, I'll have another couple of years with them, and it's not enough. It's just not enough.
Then as I walked the little one to her playground, this child who was born fiesty, independent, and with more confidence in her little finger than most people will ever have in their lives, grabbed my hand and said, "Thanks for walking with me. I'm glad I don't have to walk alone like Sissy." All I could do was try to hold back the tears, smile, and say, "Me too, sweetheart, me too."
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Magic Bus
"Every day you'll see the dust (Too much, magic bus)/ As I drive my baby in my magic bus (Too much, magic bus)." - "Magic Bus" by The Who
On the way to school yesterday the kids were kind of quiet, but instead of enjoying the peace for a change (what can I say, I'm a little insane), I suggested that we play the amusement park game. This is a little game the three of us made up a while ago to pass the time in the car (where we spend a good part of our day sometimes!). I am the owner of the park and take the kids on all kinds of wild rides, describing each turn, flip, and splash with over-the-top enthusiasm. They love it! It's simple and silly, but it makes them happy.
So yesterday, the five-year-old asked me to make up a roller coaster that was also a water ride. After taking them on an imaginary trip aboard the "Atlantic Splash Coaster" as they named it, they were laughing wildly and shaking pretend salt water droplets out of their hair, when the seven-year-old stopped and told me that I was just like Ms. Frizzle from The Magic School Bus.
Now, I look nothing like the cartoon character, who bears a striking resemblence to Bette Midler, so I asked her how I was like The Frizz. She said it was because I am crazy like her and make everything an adventure, and they always have fun learning with me, just like the kids in Ms. Frizzle's class. I was touched. And aparently if I had to identify with a cartoon character, it would be The Frizz, haha!
I have to say though, the bus itself does nothing for me. In the end, it always transforms back into just a plain yellow school bus. If I were to drive a magic bus, I think Further, the groovy psychadelic bus driven by Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters in the 60s is more my taste. But I think I'd bring along my own Kool-Aid. ;)
On the way to school yesterday the kids were kind of quiet, but instead of enjoying the peace for a change (what can I say, I'm a little insane), I suggested that we play the amusement park game. This is a little game the three of us made up a while ago to pass the time in the car (where we spend a good part of our day sometimes!). I am the owner of the park and take the kids on all kinds of wild rides, describing each turn, flip, and splash with over-the-top enthusiasm. They love it! It's simple and silly, but it makes them happy.
So yesterday, the five-year-old asked me to make up a roller coaster that was also a water ride. After taking them on an imaginary trip aboard the "Atlantic Splash Coaster" as they named it, they were laughing wildly and shaking pretend salt water droplets out of their hair, when the seven-year-old stopped and told me that I was just like Ms. Frizzle from The Magic School Bus.
Now, I look nothing like the cartoon character, who bears a striking resemblence to Bette Midler, so I asked her how I was like The Frizz. She said it was because I am crazy like her and make everything an adventure, and they always have fun learning with me, just like the kids in Ms. Frizzle's class. I was touched. And aparently if I had to identify with a cartoon character, it would be The Frizz, haha!
I have to say though, the bus itself does nothing for me. In the end, it always transforms back into just a plain yellow school bus. If I were to drive a magic bus, I think Further, the groovy psychadelic bus driven by Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters in the 60s is more my taste. But I think I'd bring along my own Kool-Aid. ;)
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Tuesday's Top Ten - Best Things About Working With Children
"May you build a ladder to the stars/ And climb on every rung/ May you stay, forever young." - "Forever Young" by Bob Dylan
I love my job. Yes, I complain about it and there are things about it that could be a lot better (*cough cough* I need a raise *cough cough*), but overall, nothing other than a career in writing could beat working with kids everyday. And these are the reasons why:
1. Boredom is nonexistent. Even with my overactive imagination, I get bored easily if I don't have something to do or some kind of entertainment to occupy my time. There is no way I could ever be bored with kids around! They are constantly running around, coming up with some wacky game to play, or chatting about anything and everything under the sun. I am way more likely to suffer from sensory overload than boredom when I'm at work.
2. The hugs. Not many people go to work in the morning and are greeted with hugs, and then ambushed with more hugs when they leave like I am every day. Although for most people, getting attacked by the people they work with would be a bad thing...haha!
3. Making an impact on the kids' lives. Knowing that every little thing I do with the girls has the possibility to make a difference in their lives is an amazing thing. I take my roles as their nanny and teacher very seriously, and my influence on them is not something I take lightly. It's a huge responsibility, but an enormous honor too.
4. Passing on my knowledge. This goes for academics as well as knowledge of the world around us. Sometimes I wonder if they would ever learn anything if I wasn't there to teach them. My goal is to educate them as much as I can so they can be successful in life. I want to do my part to give them the world, and in little ways, through our school lessons and countless conversations, I hope I'm doing that.
5. Seeing them grow. I have been there for first smiles, first words, first steps, first temper tantrums, first days of school, and so many other important moments. I have raised these kids since they were babies, and it is so cool to see them grow and change, sometimes on a daily basis. I love that they are such incredible little people and I can't wait to see how they will continue to grow in the coming years.
6. The way they look up to me. There's an old saying, "The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world." This usually applies to mothers, but I think it applies to people like me as well. In their little world, the kids think I'm an important person, and I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy that. Everyone wants to feel valued in their job, and I know that I am. Even if sometimes I am reminded of my "value" to them because they treat me like a parent and may talk back, throw a tantrum, or ask me, "Why" a hundred times until I say, "Because I said so!" They are that comfortable with me, and I think that they look up to me just like a child looks up his/her mom and dad. Wow...
7. Playing with toys. Ah, one of the perks of my job! If you don't work with kids, chances are you have never gone to work and spent at least part of your day building a town out of Legos, painting a masterpiece (as described by a five-year-old, but still!), reading Dr. Seuss, and putting on a Barbie fashion show. Toys today are so much cooler than they were when I was growing up (although we 80s kids had some totally radical stuff too, as described in my last Tuesday's Top Ten), and I will admit that I still like Play-Doh, American Girl Dolls, and Etch-a-Sketches, so a house full of toys makes the days go by faster!
8. They remind me of the magic. Childhood should be magical. There is something so beautiful and precious about children who still believe in the wonders of fairies, the joy of Santa Claus, and have the belief that the world is a kind and safe place. I wish we didn't lose some of that magic as we grow up, but it seems inevitable.
9. Writing lesson plans. I love this part of my job! During the summer when I homeschool the kids full-time, I come up with extensive lesson plans in about seven different subjects that we cover daily, and I love every second of it. The planning, the research, the shopping for supplies, and of course, the teaching! I try to make learning as fun as possible, and judging by the fact that the girls start asking about our summer lessons for the next year as soon as school starts in the fall, I think I'm doing a pretty good job.
10. Nap time! After all of the busyness I have just described, this one needs no explanation! :)
I love my job. Yes, I complain about it and there are things about it that could be a lot better (*cough cough* I need a raise *cough cough*), but overall, nothing other than a career in writing could beat working with kids everyday. And these are the reasons why:
1. Boredom is nonexistent. Even with my overactive imagination, I get bored easily if I don't have something to do or some kind of entertainment to occupy my time. There is no way I could ever be bored with kids around! They are constantly running around, coming up with some wacky game to play, or chatting about anything and everything under the sun. I am way more likely to suffer from sensory overload than boredom when I'm at work.
2. The hugs. Not many people go to work in the morning and are greeted with hugs, and then ambushed with more hugs when they leave like I am every day. Although for most people, getting attacked by the people they work with would be a bad thing...haha!
3. Making an impact on the kids' lives. Knowing that every little thing I do with the girls has the possibility to make a difference in their lives is an amazing thing. I take my roles as their nanny and teacher very seriously, and my influence on them is not something I take lightly. It's a huge responsibility, but an enormous honor too.
4. Passing on my knowledge. This goes for academics as well as knowledge of the world around us. Sometimes I wonder if they would ever learn anything if I wasn't there to teach them. My goal is to educate them as much as I can so they can be successful in life. I want to do my part to give them the world, and in little ways, through our school lessons and countless conversations, I hope I'm doing that.
5. Seeing them grow. I have been there for first smiles, first words, first steps, first temper tantrums, first days of school, and so many other important moments. I have raised these kids since they were babies, and it is so cool to see them grow and change, sometimes on a daily basis. I love that they are such incredible little people and I can't wait to see how they will continue to grow in the coming years.
6. The way they look up to me. There's an old saying, "The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world." This usually applies to mothers, but I think it applies to people like me as well. In their little world, the kids think I'm an important person, and I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy that. Everyone wants to feel valued in their job, and I know that I am. Even if sometimes I am reminded of my "value" to them because they treat me like a parent and may talk back, throw a tantrum, or ask me, "Why" a hundred times until I say, "Because I said so!" They are that comfortable with me, and I think that they look up to me just like a child looks up his/her mom and dad. Wow...
7. Playing with toys. Ah, one of the perks of my job! If you don't work with kids, chances are you have never gone to work and spent at least part of your day building a town out of Legos, painting a masterpiece (as described by a five-year-old, but still!), reading Dr. Seuss, and putting on a Barbie fashion show. Toys today are so much cooler than they were when I was growing up (although we 80s kids had some totally radical stuff too, as described in my last Tuesday's Top Ten), and I will admit that I still like Play-Doh, American Girl Dolls, and Etch-a-Sketches, so a house full of toys makes the days go by faster!
8. They remind me of the magic. Childhood should be magical. There is something so beautiful and precious about children who still believe in the wonders of fairies, the joy of Santa Claus, and have the belief that the world is a kind and safe place. I wish we didn't lose some of that magic as we grow up, but it seems inevitable.
9. Writing lesson plans. I love this part of my job! During the summer when I homeschool the kids full-time, I come up with extensive lesson plans in about seven different subjects that we cover daily, and I love every second of it. The planning, the research, the shopping for supplies, and of course, the teaching! I try to make learning as fun as possible, and judging by the fact that the girls start asking about our summer lessons for the next year as soon as school starts in the fall, I think I'm doing a pretty good job.
10. Nap time! After all of the busyness I have just described, this one needs no explanation! :)
Friday, March 2, 2012
I Was Blowing Kerosene (Gym Moms Revisited)
"And the breath from my chest I was blowing kerosene/ My lips and fingertips were stone/ I wore my heart on my jeans." - "Wherefore Art Thou, Elvis?" by The Gaslight Anthem
Okay everybody, are you ready for a rant? If you said yes, boy do I have a story for you. After reading this you will understand why this amazing Gaslight tune is my song of the day.
If you read my post from a few days ago, you already know how I feel about the Gym Moms, the parents that annoy the heck out of me while I watch the girls I take care of do gymnastics twice a week. For the most part I ignore it, just thinking snarcastic (snarky + sarcastic) thoughts in my head and subtly rolling my eyes as needed. Today I spoke my mind.
Sitting behind me on the bleachers was a woman whose picture belongs in the dictionary next to the term trailer trash. Harsh, I know, but today I'm calling them like I see them. I sat for nearly an hour listening to her belittle almost every child in the gym, commenting in her irritating, loud voice, on their weight, body shape, strength, skill level, etc. She described the five-year-old I nanny for was the wild girl with skinny legs. I said nothing, allowing my emotions to reach a boil, until two minutes later when I gave "my kid" a thumb's up for doing a flip. The evil Gym Mom tapped me on the shoulder and asked in a sickingly sweet Southern drawl if that was my child. I turned around, recoiling at the sound of her voice, and asked in a sarcastic tone, "The one with the skinny legs?"
Ms. Trailer Trash said nothing, she just stared like a deer caught in the headlights. I said that yes, she's my kid, but I wouldn't expect her to know that since she had been spending the whole hour criticizing every child in the building, except for her own of course. I went on to tell her that I pray none of those kids heard her comments, because no child should go home thinking that there is something wrong with how they look or what they do. She got this snooty, offended look on her face and said, "Oh, I didn't realize anyone could hear me. Why didn't you say she's your daughter sooner?"
Remaining calm like I had been the whole time, I responded in an even voice, "Because I am her nanny. She isn't my daughter but yes, she is my kid, and judging by your many remarks about all of these children, I figured you were too ignorant to understand anything rational I could have said." Take that Gym Mom!
She ended up moving to a different section of the bleachers (where she sat quietly for the rest of the class, thank you very much!), and as she walked past, I smiled and told her to have a nice day, polite as always. I don't think I'll be having any more problems with her, and hopefully I spared a child or two from hearing insults that could cause them a lifetime of trouble. Gymnastics is a competitive enough sport without having parents like that adding to the pressure. She was lucky I have enough self-control not to talk with my fists like I wanted to. She would have deserved it too, because there is never a reason to talk about an innocent, defenseless child like that. Never.
So that, my friends, is my rant of the day. And you know what? I'm proud of what I said and how I conducted myself. I didn't (totally) lose my temper, I didn't punch her, I didn't yell and make a scene. But I did stand up for all of those children who couldn't defend themselves. I will never regret that.
Okay everybody, are you ready for a rant? If you said yes, boy do I have a story for you. After reading this you will understand why this amazing Gaslight tune is my song of the day.
If you read my post from a few days ago, you already know how I feel about the Gym Moms, the parents that annoy the heck out of me while I watch the girls I take care of do gymnastics twice a week. For the most part I ignore it, just thinking snarcastic (snarky + sarcastic) thoughts in my head and subtly rolling my eyes as needed. Today I spoke my mind.
Sitting behind me on the bleachers was a woman whose picture belongs in the dictionary next to the term trailer trash. Harsh, I know, but today I'm calling them like I see them. I sat for nearly an hour listening to her belittle almost every child in the gym, commenting in her irritating, loud voice, on their weight, body shape, strength, skill level, etc. She described the five-year-old I nanny for was the wild girl with skinny legs. I said nothing, allowing my emotions to reach a boil, until two minutes later when I gave "my kid" a thumb's up for doing a flip. The evil Gym Mom tapped me on the shoulder and asked in a sickingly sweet Southern drawl if that was my child. I turned around, recoiling at the sound of her voice, and asked in a sarcastic tone, "The one with the skinny legs?"
Ms. Trailer Trash said nothing, she just stared like a deer caught in the headlights. I said that yes, she's my kid, but I wouldn't expect her to know that since she had been spending the whole hour criticizing every child in the building, except for her own of course. I went on to tell her that I pray none of those kids heard her comments, because no child should go home thinking that there is something wrong with how they look or what they do. She got this snooty, offended look on her face and said, "Oh, I didn't realize anyone could hear me. Why didn't you say she's your daughter sooner?"
Remaining calm like I had been the whole time, I responded in an even voice, "Because I am her nanny. She isn't my daughter but yes, she is my kid, and judging by your many remarks about all of these children, I figured you were too ignorant to understand anything rational I could have said." Take that Gym Mom!
She ended up moving to a different section of the bleachers (where she sat quietly for the rest of the class, thank you very much!), and as she walked past, I smiled and told her to have a nice day, polite as always. I don't think I'll be having any more problems with her, and hopefully I spared a child or two from hearing insults that could cause them a lifetime of trouble. Gymnastics is a competitive enough sport without having parents like that adding to the pressure. She was lucky I have enough self-control not to talk with my fists like I wanted to. She would have deserved it too, because there is never a reason to talk about an innocent, defenseless child like that. Never.
So that, my friends, is my rant of the day. And you know what? I'm proud of what I said and how I conducted myself. I didn't (totally) lose my temper, I didn't punch her, I didn't yell and make a scene. But I did stand up for all of those children who couldn't defend themselves. I will never regret that.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
I Got What I Needed
"You went to school to learn, girl/ Things you never, never knew before." - "ABC" by The Jackson 5
Friday morning as I was driving the girls to school, we had a conversation about college. Their father is going back to school to get his MBA, so the five-year-old asked what grade her dad was in, which led to the topic of different degrees. The seven-year-old asked me if I had a doctorate, and our conversation went a little something like this:
Shannon: No, I don't have a doctorate.
Seven: Why not?
Five: Because she's not a doctor, she's a teacher.
Shannon: Well, teachers can have doctorates too, but I have my associates degree. I graduated college at that point because I got what I needed.
Five: Yeah, you got us.
Seven: That's right. You need us just like we need you.
I had to use every ounce of self-control I had not to burst into tears in the school driveway. Sometimes children just get things on a different level, a deeper one, than adults think of at first. That is a moment I hope to never forget.
Friday morning as I was driving the girls to school, we had a conversation about college. Their father is going back to school to get his MBA, so the five-year-old asked what grade her dad was in, which led to the topic of different degrees. The seven-year-old asked me if I had a doctorate, and our conversation went a little something like this:
Shannon: No, I don't have a doctorate.
Seven: Why not?
Five: Because she's not a doctor, she's a teacher.
Shannon: Well, teachers can have doctorates too, but I have my associates degree. I graduated college at that point because I got what I needed.
Five: Yeah, you got us.
Seven: That's right. You need us just like we need you.
I had to use every ounce of self-control I had not to burst into tears in the school driveway. Sometimes children just get things on a different level, a deeper one, than adults think of at first. That is a moment I hope to never forget.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Must Be Santa
"Special night, beard that's white/ Must be Santa, must be Santa/ Must be Santa, Santa Claus." - "Must Be Santa" by Raffi
Today I took the girls to see Santa Claus at the mall. In the past, they have had a Polar Express setup as well as a Narnia village, but this year Santa is located in the middle of a winter wonderland complete with enormous snowglobes to walk through, lifesize polar bear statues, an "ice thrown", and very cool videos from BBC Earth about Arctic wildlife. It really is pretty great, except for the styrofoam snow that sticks like a magnet to clothing and hair. We spent the next two hours at the mall walking around with foam pellets in our hair that looked like giant flakes of dandruff. Oh well, it was a small price to pay for the best visit to Santa ever!
When the girls walked up to Santa, they gave him big hugs and he was fantastic, acting like he remembered them, even calling them by name, which I'm sure he heard me say many times as we walked through the snowglobes and experienced the MacArthur Center winter wonderland. Anyway, as I eavesdropped on their conversation with Santa while I paid for their pictures, I heard them say that they wanted the Looks Like Me American Girl dolls for Christmas. Then my jaw hit the ground. Santa let out a jolly chuckle and said playfully, "Didn't I bring you American Girl dolls last year? The ones that are not even made anymore? Are you sure you want more dolls?" The looks on the girls' faces were pure joy and astonishment because that was one hundred percent correct! With them being five and seven years old now, I know the years of wonder and innocence are quickly flying by. This visit may have bought another year or two of magic for these kids, which I am very grateful for. And there is no other way to explain that moment today expect to say that it was truly magical. If I didn't know better, I would say that this guy is the real deal, the head elf, Saint Nicholas himself. But that's impossible...isn't it?
Today I took the girls to see Santa Claus at the mall. In the past, they have had a Polar Express setup as well as a Narnia village, but this year Santa is located in the middle of a winter wonderland complete with enormous snowglobes to walk through, lifesize polar bear statues, an "ice thrown", and very cool videos from BBC Earth about Arctic wildlife. It really is pretty great, except for the styrofoam snow that sticks like a magnet to clothing and hair. We spent the next two hours at the mall walking around with foam pellets in our hair that looked like giant flakes of dandruff. Oh well, it was a small price to pay for the best visit to Santa ever!
When the girls walked up to Santa, they gave him big hugs and he was fantastic, acting like he remembered them, even calling them by name, which I'm sure he heard me say many times as we walked through the snowglobes and experienced the MacArthur Center winter wonderland. Anyway, as I eavesdropped on their conversation with Santa while I paid for their pictures, I heard them say that they wanted the Looks Like Me American Girl dolls for Christmas. Then my jaw hit the ground. Santa let out a jolly chuckle and said playfully, "Didn't I bring you American Girl dolls last year? The ones that are not even made anymore? Are you sure you want more dolls?" The looks on the girls' faces were pure joy and astonishment because that was one hundred percent correct! With them being five and seven years old now, I know the years of wonder and innocence are quickly flying by. This visit may have bought another year or two of magic for these kids, which I am very grateful for. And there is no other way to explain that moment today expect to say that it was truly magical. If I didn't know better, I would say that this guy is the real deal, the head elf, Saint Nicholas himself. But that's impossible...isn't it?
Saturday, December 10, 2011
All is Bright
"Silent night, holy night/ All is calm, all is bright."
Two nights ago, I was driving the seven-year-old I nanny for back home after her dance class. It was late in the evening and she was exhausted, but we took a few extra minutes to drive around her neighborhood and look at all of the beautiful lights. As we drove along, I would slow down when we came upon a nice display, sometimes even stopping for a moment so we could marvel together at the wonderous sights before our eyes. After going down a few streets, this child who is normally very on edge and way too driven for her own good, laid her tired head back on her car seat and sighed contently. I asked her if she was having fun and she replied, "Yes! Looking at lights with you is a lot more fun than with Mom and Dad." I asked her why she would say something like that, and she told me that it was because I took the time to slow down and look at the lights too. I was enjoying them just as much as she was, and it made a huge impression on her. She comes from a very busy family and her parents don't always have the time to slow down and stare at Christmas lights, and I bet they never knew that their daughter noticed.
So this holiday season, I hope that we will all take the time to slow down, stop, and look at the glorious sights around us. There is so much beauty in the world, especially this time of year, and it will all be over in the blink of an eye. I for one, do not want to miss it. So once again, the teacher has learned something from the student. Always keep the magic of the season in your heart, and take the time to let your inner child out so you can remember what it was like to be a kid at Christmastime. Just think of it as a gift to yourself and those around you. And it doesn't cost a penny.
Two nights ago, I was driving the seven-year-old I nanny for back home after her dance class. It was late in the evening and she was exhausted, but we took a few extra minutes to drive around her neighborhood and look at all of the beautiful lights. As we drove along, I would slow down when we came upon a nice display, sometimes even stopping for a moment so we could marvel together at the wonderous sights before our eyes. After going down a few streets, this child who is normally very on edge and way too driven for her own good, laid her tired head back on her car seat and sighed contently. I asked her if she was having fun and she replied, "Yes! Looking at lights with you is a lot more fun than with Mom and Dad." I asked her why she would say something like that, and she told me that it was because I took the time to slow down and look at the lights too. I was enjoying them just as much as she was, and it made a huge impression on her. She comes from a very busy family and her parents don't always have the time to slow down and stare at Christmas lights, and I bet they never knew that their daughter noticed.
So this holiday season, I hope that we will all take the time to slow down, stop, and look at the glorious sights around us. There is so much beauty in the world, especially this time of year, and it will all be over in the blink of an eye. I for one, do not want to miss it. So once again, the teacher has learned something from the student. Always keep the magic of the season in your heart, and take the time to let your inner child out so you can remember what it was like to be a kid at Christmastime. Just think of it as a gift to yourself and those around you. And it doesn't cost a penny.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Blue Jeans and White T-Shirts
"With wild hearts/ Blue jeans and white t-shirts." - "Blue Jeans and White T-Shirts" by The Gaslight Anthem
Last week I was taking the girls to school and we pulled up to a red light. Just in front of us in the next lane was a tiny red Miata that the girls were very excited about, saying that it was so cute and looked like a Barbie car. The five-year-old was just saying that maybe it belonged to a princess when the light turned green, we inched forward, and saw that a guy was driving the girly little car. One of the kids asked why a man was driving a girl's car, and the other one said, "Oh, it must be his mom's."
Where did all of the real men go? I know my thinking is out of touch with 21st century reality (not that I care at all), but what happened to tough guys who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty, their clothes greasy, and their hair messed up? Where did guys like this go?
I don't know why, but I cringe when I see a guy in a fancy, tailored suit (like the very expensive looking one worn by Mr. Miata), with his nails so obviously manicured (Mr. Miata again) and enough product in his hair to withstand a category two hurricane. Where did the blue jeans and white t-shirts disappear to? I blame the preppies.
Last week I was taking the girls to school and we pulled up to a red light. Just in front of us in the next lane was a tiny red Miata that the girls were very excited about, saying that it was so cute and looked like a Barbie car. The five-year-old was just saying that maybe it belonged to a princess when the light turned green, we inched forward, and saw that a guy was driving the girly little car. One of the kids asked why a man was driving a girl's car, and the other one said, "Oh, it must be his mom's."
Where did all of the real men go? I know my thinking is out of touch with 21st century reality (not that I care at all), but what happened to tough guys who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty, their clothes greasy, and their hair messed up? Where did guys like this go?
I don't know why, but I cringe when I see a guy in a fancy, tailored suit (like the very expensive looking one worn by Mr. Miata), with his nails so obviously manicured (Mr. Miata again) and enough product in his hair to withstand a category two hurricane. Where did the blue jeans and white t-shirts disappear to? I blame the preppies.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Tuesday's Top Ten - Parental Catchphrases
"Mommy's alright, Daddy's alright/ They just seem a little weird." -"Surrender" by Cheap Trick
Remember those things your parents would say when you were a kid that just seemed so stupid at the time and mostly went in one ear and out the other? Have you ever caught yourself repeating them to your own children? I know I am not a mom, but as a nanny, I have listened to myself in horror as my mother's words escape my mouth on a regular basis. Here are my top ten catchphrases that I heard as a child, many of which I have used, confirming my suspicions that I'm turning into my mother.
1. "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." - I say this at least once a week at work, sometimes several times a day. I used to hear this one all the time (I kind of had a big mouth...and a smart mouth) and of course it never registered for more than a few seconds. Still, I have hope that the girls I take care of will take these words to heart in a way that I never did. It really is good advice. Just this morning I told the seven-year-old this very phrase, followed by, "And calling your sister a Poo Bottom is definitely not nice!" Sigh...
2. "Don't talk with food in your mouth." - Why is this one so hard to remember? You'd think that when the kid has food spilling out of his/her mouth as they tell you some pointless story that goes on forever, they would correct the problem, but no. As a child I had good manners, I just chose not to use them a lot of the time. Sorry, Mom!
3. "Be nice to your sister." - But why? She was super annoying and always started it! Funny how little sisters are still doing that today... I don't know why it's impossible for siblings to just play nicely 100% of the time, but it is. And even though these five words hold practically no meaning whatsoever to a child, especially a kid who is mad and trying to shove her sibling out of her bedroom, I still find the words flowing from my mouth with the hope that just this once they will sink in. Maybe, just maybe, the child will slap herself on her forehead and say, "Duh! I should just be nice. I'm so sorry for being mean and I'll never do it again." Ha!
4. "Your face is going to freeze like that." - My dad used to tell my sister and me this all the time when we made faces at each other. I remember rolling my eyes at him, knowing that there was no way my tongue would be permanently sticking out of my mouth while my eyes remained crossed and stretched, my fingers pulling them as far to the sides of my head as they would go, but he just kept saying it...for years. This is one I don't say now because it just sounds so ridiculous, but the girls tell each other this, then discuss at length how cool it would be if they could freeze each other's faces whenever they wanted. Oh, to be a kid again (written with a huge amount of sarcasm!)
5. "Just pretend you're asleep." - Now this one might have just been at my house. I tended to be somewhat of an insomniac, even as a baby and small child, and I don't even know how many times my mom told me this when I was whining loudly that I couldn't sleep. I have said this one a time or two when the girls don't want to go to bed. It works just as well now as it did back then. Yep, they don't find pretending to be asleep all that great either.
6. "Keep your hands to yourself." - Man, parents just try to suck the fun out of life, don't they? I will admit that I use this one all the time. Last week I told the five-year-old this as she was reaching across the car toward her sister on the way home from school. Her response? "If I keep my hands to myself, how can I pinch her?" Oh, the honesty of a child. But really, is there any other short phrase that encourages children to respect other people's personal space in a more effective way? I think not.
7. "I'm going to count to three." Why do we say this?! Who cares if we know how to count to three? The kids don't. I know that I always waited until my mom got to two-and-a-half (I was spoiled, I admit it) before I stopped misbehaving, and now I'm on the other end of that threat. I will always follow through with a time-out or some similar form of discipline if I do reach three and nothing has changed so this is pretty effective, but c'mon. Counting to three is a stupid threat, especially when you hear a parent say it in public. Sometimes I want to count along like I'm singing the end of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame", just to see what they'll do. "For it's one, two, three strikes you're out of the old ball game!" That could be pretty funny!
8. "Just try one bite. You might like it." - No, I won't. I am the world's pickiest eater, and if I try something new, there is a better chance I will lose my lunch all over the table than find a new food I want to add to my plate. Still, I tell the girls the same thing. The thing with them is that they almost always end up liking the food in question! Then they realize that I am right and everything is peachy keen jelly bean. Whenever I was told this, I proved my parents wrong. So I guess I was right then too (and a little too concerned with being right all the time)!
9. "When I was a kid..." - Just finish that sentence on your own. I got this one a lot from my dad. Especially in regards to watching TV. "When I was a kid, we watched whatever Grandpa wanted to watch. I never got to pick the shows." Whatever! Unless it's a funny story about how life was in the olden days when dinosaurs roamed the earth (like my childhood in the 1980s, a whole other millennium), young children couldn't care less how bad you had it when you were a kid. But still, adults can't resist using examples from their childhood to try to educate the younger generation on how easy they have it. I only do this to illustrate a point about how much things have changed in the last 20 years as kind of a history lesson, and to show them that their life isn't so totally unfair and horrible. What? That's what my parents thought they were doing too? Bummer.
10. "You can do anything you set your mind to." - This one is 100%, totally and completely accurate, and I tell the girls this as often as possible. Of all the things parents can tell their children, this one ranks right up there with I love you. It instills confidence, self-esteem, and the warm fuzzy feeling you get when you know someone believes in you. I follow this one with, "...because you are strong, hardworking, and very, very smart." I hope they are listening when I tell them this, even if they ignore every other word I ever say.
Remember those things your parents would say when you were a kid that just seemed so stupid at the time and mostly went in one ear and out the other? Have you ever caught yourself repeating them to your own children? I know I am not a mom, but as a nanny, I have listened to myself in horror as my mother's words escape my mouth on a regular basis. Here are my top ten catchphrases that I heard as a child, many of which I have used, confirming my suspicions that I'm turning into my mother.
1. "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." - I say this at least once a week at work, sometimes several times a day. I used to hear this one all the time (I kind of had a big mouth...and a smart mouth) and of course it never registered for more than a few seconds. Still, I have hope that the girls I take care of will take these words to heart in a way that I never did. It really is good advice. Just this morning I told the seven-year-old this very phrase, followed by, "And calling your sister a Poo Bottom is definitely not nice!" Sigh...
2. "Don't talk with food in your mouth." - Why is this one so hard to remember? You'd think that when the kid has food spilling out of his/her mouth as they tell you some pointless story that goes on forever, they would correct the problem, but no. As a child I had good manners, I just chose not to use them a lot of the time. Sorry, Mom!
3. "Be nice to your sister." - But why? She was super annoying and always started it! Funny how little sisters are still doing that today... I don't know why it's impossible for siblings to just play nicely 100% of the time, but it is. And even though these five words hold practically no meaning whatsoever to a child, especially a kid who is mad and trying to shove her sibling out of her bedroom, I still find the words flowing from my mouth with the hope that just this once they will sink in. Maybe, just maybe, the child will slap herself on her forehead and say, "Duh! I should just be nice. I'm so sorry for being mean and I'll never do it again." Ha!
4. "Your face is going to freeze like that." - My dad used to tell my sister and me this all the time when we made faces at each other. I remember rolling my eyes at him, knowing that there was no way my tongue would be permanently sticking out of my mouth while my eyes remained crossed and stretched, my fingers pulling them as far to the sides of my head as they would go, but he just kept saying it...for years. This is one I don't say now because it just sounds so ridiculous, but the girls tell each other this, then discuss at length how cool it would be if they could freeze each other's faces whenever they wanted. Oh, to be a kid again (written with a huge amount of sarcasm!)
5. "Just pretend you're asleep." - Now this one might have just been at my house. I tended to be somewhat of an insomniac, even as a baby and small child, and I don't even know how many times my mom told me this when I was whining loudly that I couldn't sleep. I have said this one a time or two when the girls don't want to go to bed. It works just as well now as it did back then. Yep, they don't find pretending to be asleep all that great either.
6. "Keep your hands to yourself." - Man, parents just try to suck the fun out of life, don't they? I will admit that I use this one all the time. Last week I told the five-year-old this as she was reaching across the car toward her sister on the way home from school. Her response? "If I keep my hands to myself, how can I pinch her?" Oh, the honesty of a child. But really, is there any other short phrase that encourages children to respect other people's personal space in a more effective way? I think not.
7. "I'm going to count to three." Why do we say this?! Who cares if we know how to count to three? The kids don't. I know that I always waited until my mom got to two-and-a-half (I was spoiled, I admit it) before I stopped misbehaving, and now I'm on the other end of that threat. I will always follow through with a time-out or some similar form of discipline if I do reach three and nothing has changed so this is pretty effective, but c'mon. Counting to three is a stupid threat, especially when you hear a parent say it in public. Sometimes I want to count along like I'm singing the end of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame", just to see what they'll do. "For it's one, two, three strikes you're out of the old ball game!" That could be pretty funny!
8. "Just try one bite. You might like it." - No, I won't. I am the world's pickiest eater, and if I try something new, there is a better chance I will lose my lunch all over the table than find a new food I want to add to my plate. Still, I tell the girls the same thing. The thing with them is that they almost always end up liking the food in question! Then they realize that I am right and everything is peachy keen jelly bean. Whenever I was told this, I proved my parents wrong. So I guess I was right then too (and a little too concerned with being right all the time)!
9. "When I was a kid..." - Just finish that sentence on your own. I got this one a lot from my dad. Especially in regards to watching TV. "When I was a kid, we watched whatever Grandpa wanted to watch. I never got to pick the shows." Whatever! Unless it's a funny story about how life was in the olden days when dinosaurs roamed the earth (like my childhood in the 1980s, a whole other millennium), young children couldn't care less how bad you had it when you were a kid. But still, adults can't resist using examples from their childhood to try to educate the younger generation on how easy they have it. I only do this to illustrate a point about how much things have changed in the last 20 years as kind of a history lesson, and to show them that their life isn't so totally unfair and horrible. What? That's what my parents thought they were doing too? Bummer.
10. "You can do anything you set your mind to." - This one is 100%, totally and completely accurate, and I tell the girls this as often as possible. Of all the things parents can tell their children, this one ranks right up there with I love you. It instills confidence, self-esteem, and the warm fuzzy feeling you get when you know someone believes in you. I follow this one with, "...because you are strong, hardworking, and very, very smart." I hope they are listening when I tell them this, even if they ignore every other word I ever say.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Angel is...what?!
"My blood runs cold/ My memory has just been sold/ My Angel is the centerfold/ Angel is the centerfold." - "Centerfold" by J. Geils Band
In the past, I always changed the station when this song came on the radio while I was with the girls I work with because I didn't think their parents would want their very sheltered kids to sing a song about a Playboy model. But when I found out that the girls already knew the song because they heard it with their mom and dad, I figured it was fine and let John Geils sing away about his homeroom angel.
So we were driving along today, rocking out to the radio in the minivan (you're picturing this and laughing, aren't you?), and the seven-year-old asks, "Why would someone sing about concrete?" I had no idea what she was talking about, so I asked where she heard a song about concrete, thinking maybe it had to do with sidewalks or something. She looked at me like I was an idiot, pointed to the radio, and said, "It's on right now! Why does the band sing 'My Angel is on a concrete floor/ Angel's on a concrete floor'." How was I supposed to respond to that? Deciding it was easier just to go along with her strange yet innocent misheard lyrics, I just told her I had no clue why anyone would sing about concrete, then distracted her with talk of the changing leaves outside. Awkward explanation averted!
In the past, I always changed the station when this song came on the radio while I was with the girls I work with because I didn't think their parents would want their very sheltered kids to sing a song about a Playboy model. But when I found out that the girls already knew the song because they heard it with their mom and dad, I figured it was fine and let John Geils sing away about his homeroom angel.
So we were driving along today, rocking out to the radio in the minivan (you're picturing this and laughing, aren't you?), and the seven-year-old asks, "Why would someone sing about concrete?" I had no idea what she was talking about, so I asked where she heard a song about concrete, thinking maybe it had to do with sidewalks or something. She looked at me like I was an idiot, pointed to the radio, and said, "It's on right now! Why does the band sing 'My Angel is on a concrete floor/ Angel's on a concrete floor'." How was I supposed to respond to that? Deciding it was easier just to go along with her strange yet innocent misheard lyrics, I just told her I had no clue why anyone would sing about concrete, then distracted her with talk of the changing leaves outside. Awkward explanation averted!
Friday, October 21, 2011
The Help
"Help, I need somebody/ Help, not just anybody/ You know I need someone/ Help!" - "Help" by The Beatles
This is one of the best books I have ever read in my life. Seriously, maybe the very best. In case you aren't familiar with this debut novel by Kathryn Stockett, a literary genius in my book (pun intended!), let me fill you in. The Help is set in Jackson, MS in the early 1960s and revolves around the black maids who work for spoiled, often ignorant and racist white women, and Skeeter, a white aspiring journalist who ends up working with the help to write a book exposing their lives for everything they are: touching and maddening, heartwarming and heartbreaking, and most of the time, so full of prejudice it's hard to believe that this was everyday reality just fifty years ago. You have to read this book. Now. It's that important.
Kathryn Stockett's writing style is familiar yet polished, and she manages to capture the personalities of each character so perfectly, I could hear their voices in my head and see their expressions as I was reading, and that's not just because I saw the movie first, which also comes highly recommended by me. I couldn't put this book down and couldn't stop thinking about it when I was forced to close the cover and say, go to work.
Ah, work. In that part of my life, I kind of relate to the women in The Help. Now, I'm not saying that I am oppressed or discriminated against, far from it. Most of the time, I feel like I am part of the family that I work for. But then there are other moments, many of which I have experienced this week, when I realize that I am just "the help". I am paid to take care of the children, run the occasional errand, and keep the house running and in order. I also do way more than is expected of me, but that's not the point. I have no rights to these children, even when I know and understand them better than anyone, I don't make the rules or have the final say in anything, even when I think I should, and I oftentimes feel underappreciated and overworked. Bottom line, I am an employee. I have no benefits whatsoever, am expected to work even when I'm sick (no benefits, remember), haven't gotten a raise in four years (probably hasn't even occurred to my bosses that I deserve one), and am beyond flexible with working late, coming in early, and working extra days just to make their life easier, but I don't get paid when I take off one day a year (my birthday). So why do I stay? For the same reason Aibileen stayed in The Help - because I love the kids (and I need that paycheck, as small as it may be). The girls need me. I have been here five-and-a-half years, even longer than the youngest child I take care of has been here, and these kids are a huge part of my life. If I wasn't here, who would help the oldest child get her extreme emotions under control so she doesn't feel like she is unable to stop crying, which she does at the drop of a hat? If I wasn't here, who would tell the youngest girl that it's okay to be a little wild, crazy, and rock and roll when you are surrounded by type-A classical music lovers who live and think inside the box? That's what it boils down to. The kids make everything worth it, even when I get my depressingly small paycheck tonight since I took my birthday off last week.
I have to admit, I cried when Aibileen, my favorite maid in The Help, talked about how one day she would have to leave Mae Mobley, the little girl she took care of and loved so deeply. That will be me one day. The girls will outgrow their need for me, and since I am just "the help", I will be let go. I try not to think about it, but it will happen eventually. But while I'm here, I will take my cue from Aibie and instill in the girls what they need to hear, what I have been saying to them all along (but with better grammar). "You is kind. You is smart. You is important." Enough said.
This is one of the best books I have ever read in my life. Seriously, maybe the very best. In case you aren't familiar with this debut novel by Kathryn Stockett, a literary genius in my book (pun intended!), let me fill you in. The Help is set in Jackson, MS in the early 1960s and revolves around the black maids who work for spoiled, often ignorant and racist white women, and Skeeter, a white aspiring journalist who ends up working with the help to write a book exposing their lives for everything they are: touching and maddening, heartwarming and heartbreaking, and most of the time, so full of prejudice it's hard to believe that this was everyday reality just fifty years ago. You have to read this book. Now. It's that important.
Kathryn Stockett's writing style is familiar yet polished, and she manages to capture the personalities of each character so perfectly, I could hear their voices in my head and see their expressions as I was reading, and that's not just because I saw the movie first, which also comes highly recommended by me. I couldn't put this book down and couldn't stop thinking about it when I was forced to close the cover and say, go to work.
Ah, work. In that part of my life, I kind of relate to the women in The Help. Now, I'm not saying that I am oppressed or discriminated against, far from it. Most of the time, I feel like I am part of the family that I work for. But then there are other moments, many of which I have experienced this week, when I realize that I am just "the help". I am paid to take care of the children, run the occasional errand, and keep the house running and in order. I also do way more than is expected of me, but that's not the point. I have no rights to these children, even when I know and understand them better than anyone, I don't make the rules or have the final say in anything, even when I think I should, and I oftentimes feel underappreciated and overworked. Bottom line, I am an employee. I have no benefits whatsoever, am expected to work even when I'm sick (no benefits, remember), haven't gotten a raise in four years (probably hasn't even occurred to my bosses that I deserve one), and am beyond flexible with working late, coming in early, and working extra days just to make their life easier, but I don't get paid when I take off one day a year (my birthday). So why do I stay? For the same reason Aibileen stayed in The Help - because I love the kids (and I need that paycheck, as small as it may be). The girls need me. I have been here five-and-a-half years, even longer than the youngest child I take care of has been here, and these kids are a huge part of my life. If I wasn't here, who would help the oldest child get her extreme emotions under control so she doesn't feel like she is unable to stop crying, which she does at the drop of a hat? If I wasn't here, who would tell the youngest girl that it's okay to be a little wild, crazy, and rock and roll when you are surrounded by type-A classical music lovers who live and think inside the box? That's what it boils down to. The kids make everything worth it, even when I get my depressingly small paycheck tonight since I took my birthday off last week.
I have to admit, I cried when Aibileen, my favorite maid in The Help, talked about how one day she would have to leave Mae Mobley, the little girl she took care of and loved so deeply. That will be me one day. The girls will outgrow their need for me, and since I am just "the help", I will be let go. I try not to think about it, but it will happen eventually. But while I'm here, I will take my cue from Aibie and instill in the girls what they need to hear, what I have been saying to them all along (but with better grammar). "You is kind. You is smart. You is important." Enough said.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Mixing up the Medicine
"Johnny's in the basement/ Mixing up the medicine/ I'm on the pavement/ Thinking about the government." - "Subterranean Homesick Blues" by Bob Dylan
Just call me Johnny this week, because I've been surrounded by medicine for four days now. The five-year-old I take care of has pneumonia for the second time this year, and it's been a rough week. With a fever of over 105, horrendous coughing, and enough gross bodily stuff to even make a brown collar worker like me scrunch up her nose in disgust, the poor kid has been miserable and I have been spending every spare second I have sanitizing the heck out of her house in an attempt to keep everyone else healthy, especially her sister. So far, so good, although I am exhausted!
Being home with a sick child all week has given me flashbacks to when I used to stay home sick from elementary school. The catch was that I was rarely sick. I was Ferris Bueller before I even knew who he was! I was the queen of faking illnesses. My favorite lie was saying that my stomach hurt and I might throw up. That was a surefire ticket home from school, often just minutes after the bell rang. At six or seven years old, I never thought how difficult it would be for my mom to take off work or anything like that. I just smiled to myself, thinking about getting out of school and spending my day watching cartoons and game shows. And if I went to my aunt's house, a soap opera or two.
My favorite place to go when I was "sick" was my Aunt Shary's house. I'm sure she knew I was faking all along, but she never said anything. My cousin would be off at school and I would get to hang out with my aunt all day, which was so much fun! She always treated me like an adult, an equal, even though I was only six months older than her daughter. I loved that! We would talk and watch TV, she would tell me stories about growing up with my dad and my other aunts and uncle, I would have soup or a balogna sandwich for lunch, and then I would miraculously recover from the brink of death I had feigned at school a few hours before, just in time to go pick my cousin up from school and play with her all afternoon.
Looking back now, I have no regrets from playing hooky so much - and I did it quite a bit! I am still waiting for my Academy Award to come in the mail. My family lost my Aunt Shary five years ago, but I will always have those memories of hanging out with her instead of sitting in a desk at school, bored out of my mind and probably getting into trouble for talking too much. Maybe I didn't have any awesome adventures like Ferris, but I have a whole heartful of memories that are more important than anything I could have learned in school. Sometimes it's just better to break the rules.
Just call me Johnny this week, because I've been surrounded by medicine for four days now. The five-year-old I take care of has pneumonia for the second time this year, and it's been a rough week. With a fever of over 105, horrendous coughing, and enough gross bodily stuff to even make a brown collar worker like me scrunch up her nose in disgust, the poor kid has been miserable and I have been spending every spare second I have sanitizing the heck out of her house in an attempt to keep everyone else healthy, especially her sister. So far, so good, although I am exhausted!
Being home with a sick child all week has given me flashbacks to when I used to stay home sick from elementary school. The catch was that I was rarely sick. I was Ferris Bueller before I even knew who he was! I was the queen of faking illnesses. My favorite lie was saying that my stomach hurt and I might throw up. That was a surefire ticket home from school, often just minutes after the bell rang. At six or seven years old, I never thought how difficult it would be for my mom to take off work or anything like that. I just smiled to myself, thinking about getting out of school and spending my day watching cartoons and game shows. And if I went to my aunt's house, a soap opera or two.
My favorite place to go when I was "sick" was my Aunt Shary's house. I'm sure she knew I was faking all along, but she never said anything. My cousin would be off at school and I would get to hang out with my aunt all day, which was so much fun! She always treated me like an adult, an equal, even though I was only six months older than her daughter. I loved that! We would talk and watch TV, she would tell me stories about growing up with my dad and my other aunts and uncle, I would have soup or a balogna sandwich for lunch, and then I would miraculously recover from the brink of death I had feigned at school a few hours before, just in time to go pick my cousin up from school and play with her all afternoon.
Looking back now, I have no regrets from playing hooky so much - and I did it quite a bit! I am still waiting for my Academy Award to come in the mail. My family lost my Aunt Shary five years ago, but I will always have those memories of hanging out with her instead of sitting in a desk at school, bored out of my mind and probably getting into trouble for talking too much. Maybe I didn't have any awesome adventures like Ferris, but I have a whole heartful of memories that are more important than anything I could have learned in school. Sometimes it's just better to break the rules.
Monday, October 3, 2011
How Shannon Became GoGo
"Wake me up before you go-go/ Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo." - "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" by Wham!
As I promised last week, here is my story about how I became a nanny. Let's start a few years before that. Right after high school I enrolled at a local university with plans to get my Masters in education within five years and become an elementary school teacher. When classes started, I began working part-time at the university's child development center and absolutely loved my job working with toddlers. I loved it so much that I shifted my focus to preschool education and transfered to a community college the next fall, because it was so much cheaper and I could take only the classes that actually pertained to my degree and not a boatload of gen-ed courses that would bore me to death. I went to school off and on for the next few years and graduated in December of 2004 with my certificate in Early Childhood Instruction. So basically, I completed my education backwards.
During my final semester of college, I did an internship at a wonderful preschool in Virginia Beach and ended up getting hired at their newest location just a few miles from my house. I loved the children, loved teaching, and loved planning my lessons, but the nonstop work (over 50 hours a week at the school and 15-20 hours a week working on classroom things at home), the marketing of my classroom that took my focus away from my students, and the politics involved in all of it, caused me to leave the school after one year.
Right after I quit, my sister's boss (she was a nanny at the time too) was at the doctor and learned that her doctor was pulling her little girl out of preschool and looking for a nanny. The child's teacher who she had really taken to had just left the school and they were expecting another baby, so they really wanted someone to teach and care for the children at home. My sister's boss told her doctor that her nanny's sister might be interested, and it turned out that I had been her daughter's teacher at the school! I interviewed with them later that week, and the rest is history. It is now five-and-a-half years later and I am happy to say that even though I finished my education backwards and some would say went backwards in my career as well, I am pleased with how everything turned out. That just goes to show that no one's future turns out exactly how they think it will when they are high school dreamers.
Now, the GoGo part. When the oldest child I teach was around two years old, she still wasn't talking much, and would just point at me instead of saying my name. Sometimes she would point at the garage door as well, the door I entered and exited every day. She probably thought I lived in her garage! Anyway, around the time her baby sister was born, she started talking a little more, and for some reason, started calling me GoGo. It sounds nothing like Shannon, which she adamantly refused to say for years, but it quickly stuck and has now morphed into all kinds of nicknames including Goges, GeeGee, Geegs, and the always embarrassing Gogolicious, which is especially mortifying when said in public. When I asked one day a few years ago why she calls me GoGo, this little girl looked up at me and said that it's a fun name for a fun person. Very sweet, but I want to know why it started! In the future (when I'm a rich and famous author who will probably have to write a book about everything I have been through working with these crazy, lovable, wonderful children), people will ponder these great mysteries in life: How was Stonehenge built? What really causes crop circles? Are Elvis and Jim Morrison both living in Seattle drinking Frappaccinos and laughing at everyone who thinks they are dead (okay, I think I'm losing it a little!)? And why in the world was Shannon called GoGo by those two kooky kids? The explanations could be very interesting!
As I promised last week, here is my story about how I became a nanny. Let's start a few years before that. Right after high school I enrolled at a local university with plans to get my Masters in education within five years and become an elementary school teacher. When classes started, I began working part-time at the university's child development center and absolutely loved my job working with toddlers. I loved it so much that I shifted my focus to preschool education and transfered to a community college the next fall, because it was so much cheaper and I could take only the classes that actually pertained to my degree and not a boatload of gen-ed courses that would bore me to death. I went to school off and on for the next few years and graduated in December of 2004 with my certificate in Early Childhood Instruction. So basically, I completed my education backwards.
During my final semester of college, I did an internship at a wonderful preschool in Virginia Beach and ended up getting hired at their newest location just a few miles from my house. I loved the children, loved teaching, and loved planning my lessons, but the nonstop work (over 50 hours a week at the school and 15-20 hours a week working on classroom things at home), the marketing of my classroom that took my focus away from my students, and the politics involved in all of it, caused me to leave the school after one year.
Right after I quit, my sister's boss (she was a nanny at the time too) was at the doctor and learned that her doctor was pulling her little girl out of preschool and looking for a nanny. The child's teacher who she had really taken to had just left the school and they were expecting another baby, so they really wanted someone to teach and care for the children at home. My sister's boss told her doctor that her nanny's sister might be interested, and it turned out that I had been her daughter's teacher at the school! I interviewed with them later that week, and the rest is history. It is now five-and-a-half years later and I am happy to say that even though I finished my education backwards and some would say went backwards in my career as well, I am pleased with how everything turned out. That just goes to show that no one's future turns out exactly how they think it will when they are high school dreamers.
Now, the GoGo part. When the oldest child I teach was around two years old, she still wasn't talking much, and would just point at me instead of saying my name. Sometimes she would point at the garage door as well, the door I entered and exited every day. She probably thought I lived in her garage! Anyway, around the time her baby sister was born, she started talking a little more, and for some reason, started calling me GoGo. It sounds nothing like Shannon, which she adamantly refused to say for years, but it quickly stuck and has now morphed into all kinds of nicknames including Goges, GeeGee, Geegs, and the always embarrassing Gogolicious, which is especially mortifying when said in public. When I asked one day a few years ago why she calls me GoGo, this little girl looked up at me and said that it's a fun name for a fun person. Very sweet, but I want to know why it started! In the future (when I'm a rich and famous author who will probably have to write a book about everything I have been through working with these crazy, lovable, wonderful children), people will ponder these great mysteries in life: How was Stonehenge built? What really causes crop circles? Are Elvis and Jim Morrison both living in Seattle drinking Frappaccinos and laughing at everyone who thinks they are dead (okay, I think I'm losing it a little!)? And why in the world was Shannon called GoGo by those two kooky kids? The explanations could be very interesting!
Monday, June 13, 2011
Paint it Black
"I see a red door and I want to paint it black/ No colors anymore I want them to turn black/ I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes/ I have to turn my head until my darkness goes." - "Paint it Black" by The Rolling Stones
Today I let the girls do their favorite art project - splatter painting. I strung up two huge pieces of paper outside, poured paint into plastic bowls, handed them each a spoon, and let them fling away! It's actually a fun lesson in physics, but their favorite part is making a huge mess and then getting hosed off. Ah, to be a kid...
To tell you the truth though, I did not want to do splatter painting today. There are a ton of bugs out, the kids were being whiny, it's hot, and I just wasn't in the mood to deal with any of it. But, as the song says, I turned my head, pushed that darkness away, and we went out and turned the backyard into a Jackson Pollack masterpiece. And you know what? We all kind of snapped out of our grumpy moods and had a good time. There's something about hearing the carefree laughter of little children that can remove all sourness from a person's disposition if they just let it. Today, I was laughing right along with them.
Now, remember how I was hoping to get some writing done over the weekend? Well, I didn't. Ugh. But this is a new week and I have high hopes! I will at least finish chapter 20, if not more. And that's a promise!
Today I let the girls do their favorite art project - splatter painting. I strung up two huge pieces of paper outside, poured paint into plastic bowls, handed them each a spoon, and let them fling away! It's actually a fun lesson in physics, but their favorite part is making a huge mess and then getting hosed off. Ah, to be a kid...
To tell you the truth though, I did not want to do splatter painting today. There are a ton of bugs out, the kids were being whiny, it's hot, and I just wasn't in the mood to deal with any of it. But, as the song says, I turned my head, pushed that darkness away, and we went out and turned the backyard into a Jackson Pollack masterpiece. And you know what? We all kind of snapped out of our grumpy moods and had a good time. There's something about hearing the carefree laughter of little children that can remove all sourness from a person's disposition if they just let it. Today, I was laughing right along with them.
Now, remember how I was hoping to get some writing done over the weekend? Well, I didn't. Ugh. But this is a new week and I have high hopes! I will at least finish chapter 20, if not more. And that's a promise!
Friday, June 10, 2011
Joy to the Fishes
"Joy to the world/ To all the boys and girls/ Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea/ Joy to you and me." - "Joy to the World" by Three Dog Night
Today was our first field trip of the summer! We went to the aquarium, the girls' choice, and had a great time. They both got a kick out of petting the sting rays and we saw two seals kissing. How do you respond to a four-year-old's question of why would anyone, even a seal, do something so yucky? I got some great pictures too. I'll try and add one to my post later since I forgot my USB cable at home. Grr! I will also use a picture or two for a gift I making for them. At the end of the summer I will present them with a scrapbook that will have a photo from every single day we spent together this summer, which I think they'll really enjoy. It will be a fun project for me too!
Guess what? I have passed my love of writing on to another generation! The six-year-old I teach is an excellent writer (I know I may be biased, but I think this kid has a natural gift!) and she wants to write reports and stories about everything! It's so cool to share something so special with her. She wants to write a book with me this summer, so I think we will start working on a collaborative picture book (me and both girls) after they get back from their grandparents' in a few weeks. I bet that will be quite a bit different from working on my Willow novels! Wish me luck!
Ah, my Willow novels. I was just thinking the other day how much Willow has grown throughout this series, from starting off as a scared but determined 17-year-old, pregnant and alone, to the strong woman and mother she has become four years later. I wish she was real. We could grab a cup of her favorite vanilla cinnamon coffee or a spicy tamale from Paco's Tacos and hang out at the beach in Santa Elena. Okay, enough silly daydreaming. I can see the end in sight for book four, which is bittersweet. I always get just a little sad when a book comes to an end, even though it's a huge high to finish a novel and it gives me a great sense of accomplishment. It's kind of a mixed trip I guess. I know exactly where the rest of the story is going now, and I hope to get some writing done this weekend. Only five work days left until my two week vacation though, and then the writing will really take off! I can't wait!
Today was our first field trip of the summer! We went to the aquarium, the girls' choice, and had a great time. They both got a kick out of petting the sting rays and we saw two seals kissing. How do you respond to a four-year-old's question of why would anyone, even a seal, do something so yucky? I got some great pictures too. I'll try and add one to my post later since I forgot my USB cable at home. Grr! I will also use a picture or two for a gift I making for them. At the end of the summer I will present them with a scrapbook that will have a photo from every single day we spent together this summer, which I think they'll really enjoy. It will be a fun project for me too!
Guess what? I have passed my love of writing on to another generation! The six-year-old I teach is an excellent writer (I know I may be biased, but I think this kid has a natural gift!) and she wants to write reports and stories about everything! It's so cool to share something so special with her. She wants to write a book with me this summer, so I think we will start working on a collaborative picture book (me and both girls) after they get back from their grandparents' in a few weeks. I bet that will be quite a bit different from working on my Willow novels! Wish me luck!
Ah, my Willow novels. I was just thinking the other day how much Willow has grown throughout this series, from starting off as a scared but determined 17-year-old, pregnant and alone, to the strong woman and mother she has become four years later. I wish she was real. We could grab a cup of her favorite vanilla cinnamon coffee or a spicy tamale from Paco's Tacos and hang out at the beach in Santa Elena. Okay, enough silly daydreaming. I can see the end in sight for book four, which is bittersweet. I always get just a little sad when a book comes to an end, even though it's a huge high to finish a novel and it gives me a great sense of accomplishment. It's kind of a mixed trip I guess. I know exactly where the rest of the story is going now, and I hope to get some writing done this weekend. Only five work days left until my two week vacation though, and then the writing will really take off! I can't wait!
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
School's Out!
"School's out for the summer/ School's out forever!" - "School's Out" by Alice Cooper
Funny, this song had a much different meaning when I was the one in school. Now I'm the adult taking care of children will not be in school for nearly three months. I remember hearing this song on the way home from my last day of high school. Man, I was so excited I could hardly stand it! This was my anthem that whole school year. Now, it will just seem like school is out forever.
Don't get me wrong, I love the girls I work with more than I can even put into words, but being with them for 50-55 hours a week is going to be exhausting! I have written up extensive lesson plans that cover seven subjects that we will tackle every day, plus I have a ton of ideas for extra stuff if we have time. Then there is also their swim team, gymnastics, and the occasional violin lesson. Wait a minute. Why did I ever think we would have extra time?! We will also take two field trips a week. Do you think I may be a bit too ambitious? I figure that I did it last year when they were only 3 and 5, so why not kick it up a notch this year?
Rest assured, I'm not going to work these poor kids to death all summer with hours upon hours of boring schoolwork. The vast majority of my lessons are taught through play or experimentation, and I am making a point to give them plenty of rest and free play time every day, way more than they get during the school year.
So, that will be my summer for the most part. I do have a couple of weeks off that I hope will give me a lot of time to write, because I am really going to miss working on my writing. As Bruce Willis's character Joe said in "Bandits", 'There's never enough time when you're working...'
Funny, this song had a much different meaning when I was the one in school. Now I'm the adult taking care of children will not be in school for nearly three months. I remember hearing this song on the way home from my last day of high school. Man, I was so excited I could hardly stand it! This was my anthem that whole school year. Now, it will just seem like school is out forever.
Don't get me wrong, I love the girls I work with more than I can even put into words, but being with them for 50-55 hours a week is going to be exhausting! I have written up extensive lesson plans that cover seven subjects that we will tackle every day, plus I have a ton of ideas for extra stuff if we have time. Then there is also their swim team, gymnastics, and the occasional violin lesson. Wait a minute. Why did I ever think we would have extra time?! We will also take two field trips a week. Do you think I may be a bit too ambitious? I figure that I did it last year when they were only 3 and 5, so why not kick it up a notch this year?
Rest assured, I'm not going to work these poor kids to death all summer with hours upon hours of boring schoolwork. The vast majority of my lessons are taught through play or experimentation, and I am making a point to give them plenty of rest and free play time every day, way more than they get during the school year.
So, that will be my summer for the most part. I do have a couple of weeks off that I hope will give me a lot of time to write, because I am really going to miss working on my writing. As Bruce Willis's character Joe said in "Bandits", 'There's never enough time when you're working...'
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