Parker is a gamer in every sense of the word. He loves to play basketball, but also loves video games, computer games, and board games. Ever since he was 2 and we played Cootie Bug for the first time, he's been hooked. It's one of the things we've always done to spend time together. I think he likes playing with me because, as a non-competetive person, I usually let him win. Not his dad. From tic-tac-toe to tiddlywinks, Yancy gives it his all. He says if the kids win against him, they'll know they really won because they were good and not because he let them win.
Whatever.
Anyway, when Parker came to me this afternoon and said he was bored (after spending at least an hour on the deck, stripping the twigs off a branch, sanding it with Dad's electric sander, and sharpening the end to make his own arrow) I suggested we play a game. It's been a while since it's just been he and I - with time to play a game. I told him to go pick out a game while I finished some work I was doing. He came back with Monopoly. Okay, so I guess this isn't going to be the 20 minute quality time I thought it would be. I looked at my list of things to do...considered asking him to change games...then thought 'what the heck' and headed to the kitchen table, leaving my list behind.
I laughed so much! He's such a character...trash talking and trying to cheat...but in a cute, mischiveous way. One time he rolled a 6 and a 4...then promptly moved his piece 11 times. "Hey!" I protested "You rolled 10 - not 11." He gave me a dimpled smile and said, "Can I just keep it?" Of course I let him.
I actually ended up winning (the first time I've ever beat him at Monopoly), but it was probably because, after an hour, we had to count up our cash and property assets and end the game. I'm sure with another 20 minutes he would've had me. So for now, I'm the Monopoly Queen! But I feel a re-match coming on real soon.
Our Family
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
What Dad cooks
When I married my husband, he really couldn't cook anything. And I was happy to do all of the cooking, so he didn't have to...until I got a job that required me to travel sometimes, and he was responsible for feeding himself and the kids. He did what most men do - solve the problem. He learned how to make one thing (taco salad) and anytime I was unavailable they ate taco salad for every meal. The kids never complained, but I always noticed that by the time I got home from a 3 day conference, they would gobble up anything I cooked.
Through the years, he has eventually expanded his repertoire to include grilled cheese and french toast. And actually, he makes it so much better than I do. So this morning, when we got up, he said, "You make the coffee and I'll make the french toast." It was nice to sit and share breakfast, with the kids still sleeping. Later, as we sipped our coffee, Hillary wandered in...hair disheveled and eyes puffy. "What's for breakfast?" she asked. Yancy said, "French toast." Then he winked at me because she was looking around the kitchen at the bag of bread and the empty skillet. She looked at him with her big brown eyes...and he said, "How many pieces do you want?" "Three!" she replied with a big smile.
I wonder if french toast will be the special thing Hillary remembers her dad cooking for her. My dad cooked a lot when I was young, but his specialty was chocolate gravy and biscuits. He only made it every now and then...like on snow days or holidays...so it was a special treat. Even after I grew up, I would request this breakfast anytime I visited back home. No one could make it quite like him. No one ever will.
In all the years that make up a childhood or a lifetime, its these little things that make a life sweet.
Through the years, he has eventually expanded his repertoire to include grilled cheese and french toast. And actually, he makes it so much better than I do. So this morning, when we got up, he said, "You make the coffee and I'll make the french toast." It was nice to sit and share breakfast, with the kids still sleeping. Later, as we sipped our coffee, Hillary wandered in...hair disheveled and eyes puffy. "What's for breakfast?" she asked. Yancy said, "French toast." Then he winked at me because she was looking around the kitchen at the bag of bread and the empty skillet. She looked at him with her big brown eyes...and he said, "How many pieces do you want?" "Three!" she replied with a big smile.
I wonder if french toast will be the special thing Hillary remembers her dad cooking for her. My dad cooked a lot when I was young, but his specialty was chocolate gravy and biscuits. He only made it every now and then...like on snow days or holidays...so it was a special treat. Even after I grew up, I would request this breakfast anytime I visited back home. No one could make it quite like him. No one ever will.
In all the years that make up a childhood or a lifetime, its these little things that make a life sweet.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Cheerleader
Remember that post a while back about how my kids don't get along? Well...scratch that.
I'm not sure why, but lately they really seem to see each other in a new and positve light. Friday, Parker brought home a drawing of a rhino he had done in art. It was really good...and Hillary said so. And today, after Fine Arts practice, she and her boyfriend came to watch him play ball. Yancy was off at his own game, so for Parker's first game it was just me. I kind of hate basketball...but I love my son, so I sit there on the bleachers and try to look like a fan. But I'm pretty quiet, (mostly for fear of making a fool of myself by cheering when we get a foul or shrieking and covering my eyes anytime the ball touches Parker's hands). While the other mom's are yelling instructions to their sons and cussing the refs, I'm sitting on my hands. When the other Cuba people clap, I clap too. Not so for Hillary...She and Larry made it as the second game started. Since she has been managing for Yancy's team, she's learned quite a bit about the game. She yelled, "Good job, Parker! Get your hands up!" and "Stay out of the lane!" (whatever that means) But she didn't just cheer for him...she called each of the players by name, encouraging and cajoling, clapping and cheering. When the mom next to me asked why the other team got the ball after we shot a free-throw Hillary jumped in.."If it doesn't touch the rim, they automatically get it." I nodded... as if everyone knows that.
We won, and a sweaty Parker loped up the bleachers to where we were. Hillary praised and Parker glowed. And inside, mama cheered!
I'm not sure why, but lately they really seem to see each other in a new and positve light. Friday, Parker brought home a drawing of a rhino he had done in art. It was really good...and Hillary said so. And today, after Fine Arts practice, she and her boyfriend came to watch him play ball. Yancy was off at his own game, so for Parker's first game it was just me. I kind of hate basketball...but I love my son, so I sit there on the bleachers and try to look like a fan. But I'm pretty quiet, (mostly for fear of making a fool of myself by cheering when we get a foul or shrieking and covering my eyes anytime the ball touches Parker's hands). While the other mom's are yelling instructions to their sons and cussing the refs, I'm sitting on my hands. When the other Cuba people clap, I clap too. Not so for Hillary...She and Larry made it as the second game started. Since she has been managing for Yancy's team, she's learned quite a bit about the game. She yelled, "Good job, Parker! Get your hands up!" and "Stay out of the lane!" (whatever that means) But she didn't just cheer for him...she called each of the players by name, encouraging and cajoling, clapping and cheering. When the mom next to me asked why the other team got the ball after we shot a free-throw Hillary jumped in.."If it doesn't touch the rim, they automatically get it." I nodded... as if everyone knows that.
We won, and a sweaty Parker loped up the bleachers to where we were. Hillary praised and Parker glowed. And inside, mama cheered!
Friday, February 8, 2008
Help Yourself
In my class of 24 first graders, I have more than a few who help me practice my patience and encourage my development of creative behavior management! Yesterday, after reminding Broc SEVERAL times to stay in his seat and follow directions, I had had enough. I plopped down a blank piece of paper and said, "You are going to write! You write me an apology, and tell me why you are choosing not to follow directions. And you have to fill up the whole page. And you can't write BIG!"
At the end of the day, this note lay on my desk,
"I am sry. I will stay in my char. I can not hlp myslf."
After I stopped laughing, I thought, 'Child, I can relate!' How many times have I told God I'm sorry. Yet I keep doing the same things over and over...
"I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway."
Romans 7:19
At the end of the day, this note lay on my desk,
"I am sry. I will stay in my char. I can not hlp myslf."
After I stopped laughing, I thought, 'Child, I can relate!' How many times have I told God I'm sorry. Yet I keep doing the same things over and over...
"I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway."
Romans 7:19
Monday, February 4, 2008
Girl Time
We had a snow day on Friday. And I really needed it. With our weekends full of basketball and Fine Arts practice, my house hadn't had a good cleaning in a while. And we were having company for the weekend. I got busy changing sheets, vacuuming, and doing laundry. Right in the middle of all the cleaning chaos, somewhere between washer and dryer, I needed a break. I went into Hillary's room to see what she was doing.
She had the music on, and was going through her closet...weeding out things she no longer deemed wear-worthy...trying on random pieces...and creating new outifts out of old stuff. I lay on the bed, watching her, and we talked about school, her friends, and the new episode of Lost. We laughed over stupid stuff.
I was suddenly 16 again, lounging on my best friend's bed...as she tried to pick out an outfit for the ballgame later...gossiping and listening to music. I'd forgotten how much fun doing nothing can be when you're with a really neat person. My brain said, "Stop being so lazy and get up and get your work finished." But my soul said, "What better way could I spend this hour that I'll never get back?" And I made a cup of coffee, lay back against her teenaged-colored pillows, and savored the moment.
She had the music on, and was going through her closet...weeding out things she no longer deemed wear-worthy...trying on random pieces...and creating new outifts out of old stuff. I lay on the bed, watching her, and we talked about school, her friends, and the new episode of Lost. We laughed over stupid stuff.
I was suddenly 16 again, lounging on my best friend's bed...as she tried to pick out an outfit for the ballgame later...gossiping and listening to music. I'd forgotten how much fun doing nothing can be when you're with a really neat person. My brain said, "Stop being so lazy and get up and get your work finished." But my soul said, "What better way could I spend this hour that I'll never get back?" And I made a cup of coffee, lay back against her teenaged-colored pillows, and savored the moment.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Our Very Own Techie
Like most kids of her generation, Hillary is not at all intimidated by technology. So she is often asked to help us of "other" generations with our lack of computer/cell phone/text message/facebook knowledge. She spent an hour one night, on the phone with her papaw, patiently talking him through the steps to set up his voice mail. "OK, Papaw...do you see that green button in the top left corner....now push it....now press 1..." And a while back, she was showing me how to print pictures off my computer. After painstakingly showing me where to click (several times), she started laughing hysterically at me while I sat and waited for the processing to take place and my prints to appear. When she finally got her breath back, she said, "Mom, you have to press the button!" I guess I would've still been sitting here today...waiting.
Recently, a friend of mine e-mailed me, wanting to show me her pictures on facebook. Which required me to set up a facebook page. I got online, typed in facebook.com...and yelled for Hillary. She came down the stairs, talking on the phone to her boyfriend, Larry. I explained in whispered instructions that I just wanted the basics, while she pointed and clicked and typed and talked all at the same time. She kept saying, "Do you want this? Do you want that?" And I snapped, "I told you I just want to be able to look at those pictures!" She never batted an eyelash...but said into her phone "Larry, have you ever tried to set up something electronic for someone......older? It's very hard."
Okay, number one, I'm not old! And number two, I CAN HEAR YOU!
Well, I have to close this now...Hillary's memaw can't figure out how to turn on our electronic oven. "Hillary....."
Recently, a friend of mine e-mailed me, wanting to show me her pictures on facebook. Which required me to set up a facebook page. I got online, typed in facebook.com...and yelled for Hillary. She came down the stairs, talking on the phone to her boyfriend, Larry. I explained in whispered instructions that I just wanted the basics, while she pointed and clicked and typed and talked all at the same time. She kept saying, "Do you want this? Do you want that?" And I snapped, "I told you I just want to be able to look at those pictures!" She never batted an eyelash...but said into her phone "Larry, have you ever tried to set up something electronic for someone......older? It's very hard."
Okay, number one, I'm not old! And number two, I CAN HEAR YOU!
Well, I have to close this now...Hillary's memaw can't figure out how to turn on our electronic oven. "Hillary....."
Friday, February 1, 2008
A Best Friend
When Parker was a toddler, his best friend was his big sister. Then he started Children's Church and then Kindergarten and then Bible Quiz and became fast friends with a sweet girl only 3 months younger than he. Cassidy understood him, took care of him, and loved him just the way he was. And to this day, they have a special connection. But, since she now lives 3 hours away, they don't exactly get to hang out. When we moved to this house, surrounded by neighbors with sons Parker's age, I was excited. And he was quite popular with them...but they seemed to like him more than he liked them. Honestly, there were times I wondered why they kept coming back! My shy little boy had come out of his shell, and had no problem telling them when he'd had enough of their company and wanted them to go home. He seemed to tolerate instead of enjoy them, and I began to wonder if he was ever going to have a best friend his own age and gender.
Finally, he made friends with a boy named Josh, who was kind of quirky like Parker. They seemed to really enjoy the same things, and Josh's outgoing personality seemed to complement Parker's more sober approach to life. But then...Josh's family moved away. And we were back to square one.
The next year was a hard one. Parker was struggling more and more with his school work, he had a teacher who was difficult to work with, and he missed his friend. I was at my wit's end trying to figure out why my otherwise bright child couldn't seem to comprehend what he read, had atrocious handwriting, and would rather cut off his hand than try to write a short paragraph. He loved to watch things on Discovery channel and could tell me details like how much the blue whale weighs after watching a one-time documentary, but couldn't memorize the fifty states and their capitals after hours of studying. He has a large vocabulary, and used words like "impervious" correctly in a sentence when talking, but sometimes couldn't spell the simplest things. I talked with his teachers... the school counselor... anyone who would listen. But since his grades were okay (A's and B's) and his behavior wasn't a problem, no one seemed to think anything was wrong, except me. Finally, I stumbled upon a website about Dyslexia. And the more I read, the more I started saying, "This makes sense...yeah, he does that...that sounds just like Parker..." I felt relieved to find a reason, but worried about how he might react to the label of dyslexia. When I explained it to him and said, "I think this might be why some things in school are hard for you." he just looked at me with a relieved look on his face and said, "Oh, so I'm not just stupid?" My mother heart broke. He had known things shouldn't be this hard - had noticed that other kids got stuff like spelling tests without trying so hard - realized that everyone else in the class got their work finished before the bell, while he had hours of homework. And my brilliant child, who has an above average IQ, just thought he must not be as smart as everyone else. This is classic dyslexia - they often have high IQ's, are good problem solvers, and are great with their hands, but their brain just doesn't process words like everyone else.
Over the summer, we had him tested, and were given information on how to help him overcome this. I started a tutoring program with him, and we wrote a 504 plan to get him a few simple modifications in school (like allowing him to type his papers instead of handwrite them, and not counting off for spelling). But I was nervous. This was all new to us. And the school had never dealt with this before. And I had a new job in a different district, so I wouldn't be right down the hall if he needed me. But God had a plan.
Right before school started, we got a new Assisstant Principal in the high school. He moved here from Texas (a state known for their treatment of dyslexia in the school system) with his wife and three kids. Mr. Lewis and the children all have dyslexia. And the middle child is a boy....Parker's age....and his name is Josh.
The boys automatically hit it off. They're in all the same classes, and they get the same modifications. So Parker didn't have to feel weird about doing anything differently. They have tons in common, and even dress alike! The other kids ask them if they're twins, even though I don't think they really look alike at all. But they have a kindred spirit. They do all the things best friends do...they ask to go to each other's house any time they can...Parker asked a cute girl if she liked Josh, and Josh asked a cute girl if she liked Parker....Parker wore tall yellow socks to play basketball and Josh begged until his mom went and got some just like them.
And God didn't leave me out...Josh's mom, Christine, has been able to answer lots of my questions about dyslexia and help me figure out what I should do next. And she works at the school, so she's able to keep an eye on them both.
Parker has a new best friend. And my best Friend, who has been with me all along, has taken care of us once again.
Finally, he made friends with a boy named Josh, who was kind of quirky like Parker. They seemed to really enjoy the same things, and Josh's outgoing personality seemed to complement Parker's more sober approach to life. But then...Josh's family moved away. And we were back to square one.
The next year was a hard one. Parker was struggling more and more with his school work, he had a teacher who was difficult to work with, and he missed his friend. I was at my wit's end trying to figure out why my otherwise bright child couldn't seem to comprehend what he read, had atrocious handwriting, and would rather cut off his hand than try to write a short paragraph. He loved to watch things on Discovery channel and could tell me details like how much the blue whale weighs after watching a one-time documentary, but couldn't memorize the fifty states and their capitals after hours of studying. He has a large vocabulary, and used words like "impervious" correctly in a sentence when talking, but sometimes couldn't spell the simplest things. I talked with his teachers... the school counselor... anyone who would listen. But since his grades were okay (A's and B's) and his behavior wasn't a problem, no one seemed to think anything was wrong, except me. Finally, I stumbled upon a website about Dyslexia. And the more I read, the more I started saying, "This makes sense...yeah, he does that...that sounds just like Parker..." I felt relieved to find a reason, but worried about how he might react to the label of dyslexia. When I explained it to him and said, "I think this might be why some things in school are hard for you." he just looked at me with a relieved look on his face and said, "Oh, so I'm not just stupid?" My mother heart broke. He had known things shouldn't be this hard - had noticed that other kids got stuff like spelling tests without trying so hard - realized that everyone else in the class got their work finished before the bell, while he had hours of homework. And my brilliant child, who has an above average IQ, just thought he must not be as smart as everyone else. This is classic dyslexia - they often have high IQ's, are good problem solvers, and are great with their hands, but their brain just doesn't process words like everyone else.
Over the summer, we had him tested, and were given information on how to help him overcome this. I started a tutoring program with him, and we wrote a 504 plan to get him a few simple modifications in school (like allowing him to type his papers instead of handwrite them, and not counting off for spelling). But I was nervous. This was all new to us. And the school had never dealt with this before. And I had a new job in a different district, so I wouldn't be right down the hall if he needed me. But God had a plan.
Right before school started, we got a new Assisstant Principal in the high school. He moved here from Texas (a state known for their treatment of dyslexia in the school system) with his wife and three kids. Mr. Lewis and the children all have dyslexia. And the middle child is a boy....Parker's age....and his name is Josh.
The boys automatically hit it off. They're in all the same classes, and they get the same modifications. So Parker didn't have to feel weird about doing anything differently. They have tons in common, and even dress alike! The other kids ask them if they're twins, even though I don't think they really look alike at all. But they have a kindred spirit. They do all the things best friends do...they ask to go to each other's house any time they can...Parker asked a cute girl if she liked Josh, and Josh asked a cute girl if she liked Parker....Parker wore tall yellow socks to play basketball and Josh begged until his mom went and got some just like them.
And God didn't leave me out...Josh's mom, Christine, has been able to answer lots of my questions about dyslexia and help me figure out what I should do next. And she works at the school, so she's able to keep an eye on them both.
Parker has a new best friend. And my best Friend, who has been with me all along, has taken care of us once again.
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