Late in November, we’d gotten word that AJ had done something that indicated immaturity on his part as well as bad decision-making. We struggled with how to handle the situation and felt overwhelmed as parents. In my line of work, it can be difficult to admit that you struggle with problems too, but the main thing is that it is always easier to be more objective and to help parse through someone else’s issues than your own. After careful reflection and many discussions, it was decided that AJ needed to spend time focusing on growth and development rather than facing punishments that were already proving ineffective for him such as grounding and taking away privileges. Besides those things, we would need to add some things that he disliked doing, beyond chores, that would encourage him to focus on bettering himself as a person and, hopefully, encourage him to focus on being his best self.

As such, for the last 3 weeks, AJ has not been allowed to watch tv, play video games or play with his friends outside of school. I understand that many would oppose the last one because kids don’t get enough time to play at school and they’ve been sitting in school all day. AJ is absolutely allowed to play by himself in our front or backyard as long as he likes. What we have removed is his opportunity to socialize in the hopes that he might spend that time learning about himself or just learn that silence is ok. He has not spent time on this principle in his entire life. He is allowed 30 minutes of computer time a night for homework or to send emails to family or to decompress. If he is too busy with other things to get it, he just misses it. Period.

Beyond removing those things, AJ has added the following things to his routine: increased amounts of reading time, exercising at the gym with his daddy most every day of the week, eating healthfully almost all of the time and going to bed almost an hour earlier than he was. These were not things AJ had ever embraced and his grades were faltering, he was struggling with his focus and he was not an energetic thoughtful child as he’d been most of his life.

When AJ learned of these changes, as most kids would, we became the bad mom and dad and how could we do this to him? He was angry with us. He was angry with himself.

What has happened 3 weeks later has been a wonderful change. Because of his extra reading time, in the last 3 weeks he has increased his AR goal in reading by 300 percent and has achieved scores of 100% on every test. His teachers are floored by this. When he comes home, he does chores without complaint. He likes to go to the library to get new books because reading is really the only thing he CAN do besides spend time with the dogs. He still complains about the gym and eating, but he’s working harder at both of them and starting to see results. And the going to bed early? He’s doing it on his own. He’ll take his shower and then tell us that he’s just going to go to bed early because he’s tired. Sometimes he’ll do this 30 minutes before his new bedtime.

What I have learned from this is that AJ only thinks he misses these changes. He is a more reflective child and the little things that he used to have all of the time mean more to him when he can have them. He is allowed 30 minutes of video games tonight for his achievement in AR. He didn’t demand it immediately as he would have done a month ago. Instead, he went upstairs to read until the television is free. In fact, he may even forget about it today.

I may leave this new policy open ended. When we decided on it, that was the plan. We were going to see how long it took to see maturity taking place or some sign of reflection or better decision making. I don’t expect too much from my 10-year old. I expect proper development, manners and respect. I love him desperately, but I am raising someone who will be a solid man when it comes time for that and I refuse to coddle him when I know he can do better.

And after 3 weeks, he’s showing progress. Extreme progress. And he’s happier for it. So where do I go from here? I think we are content with how things are. Am I still the bad mom? I don’t honestly know. Am I a good parent? I think so. He’s happy. He’s healthy. And he’s growing both mentally and physically. I can’t ask for more than that.

Lately, for at least two hours a day, I have studied for a test that is coming up next weekend. So, instead of letting him do other things, I asked AJ to come to the library with me and read a book that he has enjoyed in recent weeks. Generally, this would provoke whining and upset, but because of the melancholic timbre of the summer this very peculiar year, he has been delighted to sit in the cool, quiet alcove of the well-lit library on their comfortable leather couches and soak in the atmosphere of the library. When he heard we would not be going yesterday, because it was Saturday and they’d be closing early, he was disappointed that he would not finish his book in the calm demeanor he’d become accustomed.

I have not lavishly spoiled him to make up for the loss of a summer of fun. AJ isn’t entitled to a summer of fun just for being a kid. There are parents that will disagree with me on that statement, but the truth of the matter is that no one is entitled to anything other than safety, love, a full belly and a warm/cool place to sleep. I give my child all of those things, lots of attention and affection, plenty of cool gadgets and he does get to do fun things, but he doesn’t go on lavish vacations and we don’t spend a lot of money making sure every single day overstimulates him to the point where I no longer like who he is as a person. When I meet a parent who does, I often find it difficult to be friendly with both the parent and the child because of the expectations they have as to how people will treat them; Rather, how they feel they are entitled to be treated.

Besides studying yesterday, I planned a small outing to the Nashville Farmer’s Market. I’d never been and AJ and I had gone to the adorable one near our house the other day. He’d studied a pattypan squash and liked it because it looked like a UFO. He’d picked up several other vegetables that I could not identify, to his amusement and to my dismay. I thought that, perhaps, a trip to the market where he could look to his heart’s delight and I could learn about the vegetables might be fun for both of us. They also had a flea market and AJ loves to look at trinkets. Garage sales may be his favorite events on earth.

When we got there, I handed AJ the $6 he’d earned by doing chores every day this week and told him that he could spend it, but carefully and not on junk. Immediately, he focused on a large adults watch with a disastrous amount of bling and a large money sign on it. It was a glowing green color and also came with a large $$ necklace. I bit my lip and hoped that it would be too expensive. Despite my better judgment, I told him he could not ask how much it was and pulled him away from the bling ensemble. As we continued to walk around, he found another necklace he desperately wanted. It was hematite, shiny, and looked like it had a shark’s tooth attached to it. It was gaudy and awful and I knew he wanted it more than anything. Again, against my better judgment, I told him he could not ask how much it was.

My inability to understand his want of shiny, blingy jewelry was too much. His jaw set, he marched ahead of me to the food market and the day was ruined. The shark necklace might have been $2. We continued to argue about it for the next hour. As I picked up tomatoes, peaches, cucumbers and oranges, I thought to myself and wondered if the argument was truly worth it. The money was his and while I knew he’d be happy when he’d saved enough to buy a larger toy, AJ is 10 years old. He wants immediate gratification despite the costs. Even though I’d explained that I did what I thought was best, was it worth the cost? Was the loss of that necklace worth the upset between us and the upset of our day together? The event was planned to offset some of the negativity of the summer. Surely, if he wanted a $2 necklace that he was going to buy with his own money, it wasn’t worth this.

I made a mistake. Adults do it. We decide we know what’s best and we hold firm to in the idea of good parenting practices. Usually, in this vein, we are correct in what we are doing and it is better for our children. However, “don’t sweat the small stuff” is a cliche for a reason, as are all cliches. In this case, my not giving in hurt AJ’s decision-making process and our camaraderie for the day. In the big scheme of things, was that necklace important? To me, it wasn’t. To him, it was. To us, it was. Giving in would have made the difference in how he felt about our time together. We had a large discussion about how material things should not affect our time together and how arguments do. Ultimately, I think we both learned a lot.

Next time, I’ll do better. A small thing is a small thing and day-ruining arguments are best saved for the things that really matter.

Sometimes adults don’t want to be adults and sometimes they don’t want to teach the teachable moments simply because they can be, well, rather exhausting. There comes a moment when the sweet little baby turns into a question machine and it is “Why?” all the time. I thrive on critical thinking, but this isn’t it. This is critical asking and critical response to my answers and when I say critical response I mean it’s often answered with, “Well that’s a stupid reason for something being that way” to which I have no clever response because it often IS a stupid reason for something being that way but I’m put off enough not to agree because I just took the time to explain WHY something is the way it is.

Just typing that caused me to wrinkle my nose and for my head to throb slightly.

So, you can see why there might be times that, when something is and explaining it is going to be a drawn out process, adults might play dead or hide. Or…in some crafty cases, play dumb. You know who you are, oh cleverest of us all. You pretend you don’t know when, in reality, you do know you just keep your mouth shut because you’re smarter than the rest of us. You clever beasties, you.

This brings me to today’s geography homework. Oh woe to me with geography homework. Latitudes and longitudes and meridians, oh my! I don’t know any of this. More correctly, I learned it well enough to take a test in the 4th grade and promptly forgot it to add such things such as America’s Funniest Home Video’s and Full House to my brain.

Today’s homework went like this:

AJ: “What is this?” (he points to Africa)
Me: “That’s Africa.”
AJ: “No, that’s south america.”
Me: (pointing to each) “NO, There’s america, there’s south america, there’s africa.”
AJ: “Why is south america there?”
Me: … (very quietly ignoring it and almost humming and rocking)

See? I could have explained the theory about how everything was joined and the plates moved or any of the various geographical theories, right? Instead, I was vewwy, vewwy quiet. I even looked the other direction intently, as if I had something that must be accomplished right at the front door. AJ, thankfully, ignored me right back and formed his own idea of why South America is south of North America. When I saw he went back to his homework, I let out a loud sigh and went back to what I was doing.

I was clever today. I lost the teachable moment, but saved a lot in sanity. I’m going to give myself this one.

Blaspheme, right? It’s true. Part of being a parent means that I have to do the hard work such as disciplining my child when he misbehaves or chooses to mess around in class as opposed to choosing to learn and distract those around him. This makes my job as a parent difficult and unenjoyable.

Lately, AJ has been testing his independence and his boundaries at school. This week he forgot something necessary at school and, as such, he ended up going to bed early and his dog was not allowed to sleep in his bedroom. In this house, one thing is always true: Wherever my child goes, so goes his dog. There has never been a more loyal dog than that dachshund to her boy.

What I knew was that the separation of the two was going to hurt one person: me. Why is this? Because AJ was going to go to sleep and I was going to be left with the whiny, leaky eyed dog that would look at the gaited stairs and turn eyes on me that were alternately hateful, pitiful and pleading. This is exactly what happened. She would go to the gate at the stairs and stand there for 10 minutes at a time while looking up at the darkened stairs and waiting for him to come down to get her. When it didn’t happen, she would come to me, grunt sadly and run back to the stairs. Her message was clearly “Please let me be with him.”

I had to say no. Over 100 times in the 4 hours I was awake after he went to bed did I say no. Eventually, she wore herself out and curled up on my legs. When I finally went to bed she calmly waited at the gate for me to allow her up. When I didn’t, she whined at me and watched me climb the stairs. I glanced at her sadly and went to bed.

Two hours later, I awoke and, eyes half closed, headed for the bathroom door. I happened to look down the stairs and she sat there, quietly and patiently, waiting for her boy.

In the morning, I cannot imagine what their reunion was like, but my son has been on his best behavior ever since and she has not left his side. He also has not forgotten a single bit of work since. Sometimes, a reminder of the people we let down by our failures can be the most honest motivator in our lives.

And sometimes people aren’t actually people but the vision of a dog that loves you more than anything standing alone in the dark waiting for you to come for her…

I’m really glad he has no idea where this blog is, nor does he read it, or he’d likely never speak to me again for telling you what I just told you.

Anyway, the boy loves music. He’ll sing in front of people when we play Rock Band but only because it’s “for the music.” I told you he has personality. When I tell people my kid is cool they don’t really believe me and they don’t really understand until they meet him and realize that he actually does seem to process things differently than other kids his age. There’s a 36-year-old hair band member in that 9-year-old body. At 3, his favorite song was by Bon Jovi.

I digress, I digress. I have no idea why anyone reads this blog because all I do is digress. I’ve turned into my 80-something grandmother.

So, AJ loves music. Yes, that was like 4 paragraphs ago. Get off my lawn. I heard him humming on the couch. Wait, that’s not true. It wasn’t just humming. It was full out song. “She’ll be coming round the mountain when she commmmmmmmmmmes, when she comes. She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes.” I’m sure they learned the whole song. This was the part that was stuck in his head, though. For an hour I heard this until finally I looked at him, made sure he saw me, gave him my most charming grin and sang loudly, “She’ll be coming round the mountain, she’ll be coming round the mountain, she’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes!”

He couldn’t stop laughing. The giggles overtook him, then me. We laughed loud and long together. He gasped at me, “Ma-Ma-Mama, I couldn’t help it! It just got stuck in my head and wouldn’t go away!” We sang it a couple more times and laughed louder and longer. We often sing together in the car. Lately it’s been songs from Glee. Yesterday it was songs from elementary school.

Now if I can just get the theme song for Veronica Mars out of my own head, I’ll be set.

A month or so ago, I received a book in the mail to review. Since I wasn’t Pregnant, or planning on becoming pregnant, I wondered how much I would have to add to this book to give it a review of any sort. However, I’m a trooper and when I opened the book, the time flew. I have to say that I was surprised by how into this book I really was. As someone who, when she was pregnant, read what felt like every freaking parenting book out there, I was impressed by this little tome of information.

Let’s start with the obvious: this isn’t a large book. It’s not a step-by-step “how to be dad” book. It’s not going to give you the blow-by-blow details of parenthood that “What to Expect” would give you, nor will it scare you half to death like that book will. What it will do is give you a laid back view of fatherhood written by a man who has been a single dad for a long time.

At times, the book has a crunchy, granola-like feel, but overall, the information felt sound. Some of the most important advice in the book is simple: You are not your parents and you aren’t anyone else. Do your best.

The book hits on important topics such as how to hold a baby all the way through how to talk to your kids about important things. There are aspects of parenthood such as the “how to”s and the things you never consider when you are starting as a parent such as the inevitable poop in the bathtub. Yep. Been there, done that.

Overall, I’d say this is a good book for a new dad or for a new stepdad. It is a book to give to a dad who needs to not be overwhelmed with what is happening or about to happen. If you are a dad who is anal or who likes a lot of lists or being told what to do, this book isn’t for you. But if you just need a primer and a little encouragment, I highly recommend, “Pregnant: A Field Guide to Fathering” by Gary Kleiman.

It ignored me and did what phones do. Glad to see someone around here has a work ethic, because this week I want to crawl in bed with a hot man and a bowl of soup and watch The Golden Girls while I lament about how our bodies break down and it’s not fair that mucus comes out of so many orifices of the body at a rate that is unequal to the rate of liquid I’m putting into my body.

I picked up the phone and saw that it was mom, which was good because I’ve been wanting my mommy for days. I answered and was immediately accosted with the accusation that my son was NOT responding to text messages.

Let this sink in for a minute.

My 9-year old…is not responding…to his grandmother’s text messages.

Now I get to explain why this is a huge deal.

AJ has a cell phone. He’s had one for almost 2 years of a 2 year deal. He does extra chores, beyond his regular ones, to help pay for the $10 his contract costs us every month. He takes his phone with him to his friend’s house and it has come in very handy. His phone has music on it and games and it keeps him from getting too bored.

Recently, Leon and I had made the decision to allow him to have text messaging. He is only allowed to text me and Leon and those who are in his address book. Those people include family and close family friends. He may only text them with their permission and ours. This is a strict rule. He is learning sentence structure and proper communication skills as well as spelling and it seems to be helping.

When I told my mother that AJ was getting unlimited text messaging (to avoid any potential charges and because we have it on a family plan), she groaned. My mother has held out on text messaging for years. In fact, when anyone would mention text messaging, she would groan, glare at us and say “Well, don’t you dare text me. That costs money!”

My mother is not an old woman. She is not yet 50. However, she is incredibly frugal and does not buy anything that is not on sale. She gets angry about how Abercrombie has their name on all of their shirts and that my sister and I do not necessarily share her ideas on thriftiness. She has held out on the peer pressure for text messaging from friends and other family members for ages. My sister and I have begged her to get text messaging for years.

Nope. It wasn’t happening.

3 weeks ago, I mentioned that AJ was getting unlimited messaging and that he would be sending her messages.

Say what you want about the woman, but she’s a devoted NeeNee.

She called last night TICKED that she’s been text messaging AJ like crazy and he won’t text her back.

Love. It’s a funny thing.

When Leon or I am sick, he hates to go to school and when he is here, he will bring ice packs, aspirin, wet washcloths and as many hugs, kisses and cuddles as we will take. There are many nights that he went to bed on a Friday night at 7:30 because I was sick with a migraine and laying there. He would lay next to me, patting my hand, and would eventually drift off.

There is a certain sense of guilt that comes with having chronic pain–that burden that you place on the people around you. The feelings that you may have of feeling like less of a person some days often express themselves at the weakest moments and not always in the best of ways. They often present in anger, misery or irritability. AJ is immune to that when someone is sick.

This isn’t to say that he doesn’t have his egocentric “me me me” side, because he certainly does, but it has never been as strong as I expected. And I’m watching him shed it rapidly and sooner than the developmental scales predict and I wonder about the kind of man he’ll become, and how quickly it will happen. Will I ever be ready for it? People keep telling me to have more children. My guess is that they recognize that there is so much love within me for this little guy that it breaks me.

I worry less about it when I see that I haven’t done an awful job and that my health issues haven’t affected him so dramatically. As he was going to bed tonight, he kissed my cheek, hugged me tightly and said, “I hope you feel better tomorrow, mama.” Then, he gave me the dimpled grin that melts my heart and he and his hoppy little weiner dog went to sleep.

Somehow, I think we’re all going to be alright…

Tort-worthy reasons that AJ believes he can sue you:

If you will not play Pokeman with him.

If you play Pokeman with him and beat him.

If you imply that you are better than him at Pokeman.

If you do not share candy with him (though the vice versa is NOT true–his not sharing with you is not a sue-able offense).

If you make him eat Dominos pizza twice in one week.

Daring to use his batter’s helmet because all the other batter’s helmets were in use. It’s far better for you to risk head injury.

Beating him at Mario Kart.

Grounding him.

Daring to drink the last cold cola in the house.

Not saving him any cheese.

Diverting his attention from Teen Titans.

Double-knotting his cleats the WRONG WAY.

You can see where this is going. So, because I’m a good citizen, it’s up to me to nip this litigious little self-righteous being right where it hurts. We’re going to have the torts discussion again and then he’s going to sit through his Daddy telling him all the 8 million tort worthy offenses until his little ears bleed and he is so bored that he never wants to hear the word “sue” again.

You’ll thank me when he’s older.

The Easter Bunny creeps AJ out

When I told my family that I was not going to honor the timeless tradition of mythical creatures bringing my son gifts on holidays that celebrate Christ in one way or another, I was met with shock and outrage. Why would I deprive him of the “magic of the season” or the “fun of the day!” We’re talking about Christmas and Easter. Currently, I’m on a religious journey of sorts and I don’t celebrate these days as the technical birth of Christ or the true day that Christ has risen. For me, if I am to celebrate Him, then I’m going to do it all year round or not at all. Mainly, though, I was not going to lie to my child and shake the trust I’d spent years building when he found out the truth from some cynical child looking to spoil a good time who decided to spill the beans to my little one.

At the time of my admission to my family, however, I’d spent years and years as a Catholic and my childhood was spent with the magic of Santa Claus and the hopes that the Easter Bunny would eat a carrot at my house. It was also spent waiting for my grandparents to get home from church before I could go upstairs on Christmas morning where, unbeknownst to me, we were really waiting for Santa to put out the goods. It was the Easter Bunny who screwed me over. Santa had the excuses. Easter Bunny didn’t.

I was little, probably close to AJ’s age of 8. I didn’t realize what was happening, nor did my mother. As far as she knew, the Easter candy/basket/goodies were all on the dining room table and ready to go. So, when my wide little eyes popped open that Easter Sunday, she gleefully allowed me to run to the dining room and see if the Easter Bunny had indeed come. What happened was the beginning of disillusionment.

My grandmother, bless her heart, was still spreading candy on the table. The carrot was not yet eaten, the water not yet drunk. I looked at her, looked at my mother and my heart dropped. Everything came together in my 8-year old mind. This says a lot being that I was a particularly sheltered, naive 8-year old. What followed wasn’t pretty. I still took the candy, oh yes, I did. But it felt like the beginning of the end. The next year my grandfather passed and my life slowly went downhill for a very long time.

Don’t think that I’m merely passing my baggage along to my child. I’ve heard similar tales of woe amongst others my age. For many firstborns, myself included, we are the guinea pig children, and AJ was not lied to about the holidays. We actually chose avoidance rather than flat out discussion. For the first several years, we didn’t have to talk about Santa or the Easter Bunny as he was too young to deal with it. Later, when it finally did come up and he asked questions, we explained about the presents and the beliefs of others and how it was important to honor those beliefs and not spoil it. For five years, he has kept the secret and managed to avoid spoiling it for everyone involved, including his cousin of the same age, who he sees every year for the entire week before Christmas.

I have no guilt about our decision. The magic of our season comes from making family time special and important. It comes from making sure that AJ knows why there are such things as holidays and that he can choose to celebrate them if they are in line with his particular beliefs. It comes from honoring the beliefs of others and loving them enough to keep your knowledge quiet when it might spoil something they cherish.

My conscience is clean and my son is happy. For me, this is good parenting.