The Great Mamma Mia Debate

There always seems to be a debate in my house.  I guess that's par for the course when you have a 4-year-old girl and a 7-year-old boy.  Those kids are ALWAYS fighting over something, always duking it out to prove who has the coolest toy/biggest muscles/smartest brain.  You name it, they debate it.  Every day it seems to be something new.  Winner in a battle: Littlest Pet Shops vs. Star Wars figures.  Best Television Show: Spongebob vs Star Wars.  Best Book: Max and Ruby vs Star Wars.  (Hmmm, I guess you can pretty much insert "Star Wars" into ANY debate when it comes to Big C.)


I'd like to call today's argument The Great Mamma Mia Debate.  It all started with pre-dinner music requests.  You see, if Big C is finished with his homework by the time I'm cooking dinner, I'll blast some music and get everyone groovin'.  Typical Big C requests are Sheryl Crow or the Beatles (or country, which, unless Mr. Roller Coaster is home, is NEVER allowed).  Typical Little C requests are Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, and P!nk (which I definitely need to discourage once she starts asking me about the meaning of lyrics).  But today, Little C requested Mamma Mia. 


"Awesome choice!" I exclaimed and pulled up the Mamma Mia movie soundtrack on iTunes.  (Make fun of me all you want, but I've seen that movie a dozen times, and I plan to see it a dozen more!)


I clicked on "Mamma Mia," and Little C and I immediately hit the dance floor. 



"No, no, no!" yelled Big C.  "Put on the OTHER Mamma Mia!"


"What other Mamma Mia?"  I asked, because in my mind, there is only ONE Mamma Mia. 


"You know," Big C explained.  "The one where the guy sings, 'Mama mia, mama mia.  Mama mia let me go!"


Ahhh, "Bohemian Rhapsody."  My son had just opened another awesome debate.

ABBA?

OR

QUEEN?
(the mama mia part is at about the 3:50 mark)

Who would YOU vote for in the Great Mamma Mia debate?

Top 10 Reasons Why Kindergarten Has Kept Me on My Toes In the Last Week

I've always wanted to be a teacher.  I remember playing school when I was a kid, grading fake worksheets on the scrap paper my dad brought home from work and teaching lessons to my stuffed animals and Barbies on the dry erase boards that hung in my toy room.  I veered off my path a bit when I went to college and majored in psychology, but my career path ultimately ended in the teaching profession.

When I got my Masters degree in elementary education, I envisioned myself teaching 2nd, 3rd, or 4th grade.  I'm certified to teach K through 6, and I swore I'd never take a job teaching either K or 6.  Well guess what I'm teaching now.  Yes, the universe has a funny way of rewarding us.  I am indeed a kindergarten teacher. 

I'm not crazy about the grade level, but I have to admit it's not as bad as I expected.  I attribute my change in heart to the fact that my own children are close to this age, and I get it.  I understand how to speak the kindergarten language because I understand (for the most part) my own kids.

But there are always times when being a kindergarten teacher IS as bad as I expected.  Like the past week.  And I thought I'd share.

Here are my...

Top 10 Reasons Why Kindergarten Has Kept Me on My Toes In the Last Week

10)  A little girl asked me how old I was.  I answered with my typical response: "How old do you think I am?"  "Well," she said.  "I don't think you're 100 yet.  I'm guessing 90."  Hmmm, I better try some new night cream.

9)  I filled out yet another assessment for a student being tested for ADD.  I often wonder why it's so prevalent these days.  I hate seeing kids struggle at such a young age.

8)  I love eavesdropping on my students as they pretend play, but sometimes it's unreal what they say and do.  "Let's pretend we're pregnant."  "Ok, I'm going to the hospital to have my baby now."  "I'm not having my baby yet.  Wait for me, I'm going outside around the corner to smoke a cigarette and then I'll have my baby."  I don't even know what to say about that.

7)  One boy grabbed another boy's pencil right out of his hand.  After playing tug of war with the pencil, the original owner was stabbed in the chest.  Went through his shirt and broke the skin.  Both boys sobbed hysterically for a good 15 minutes.  (This contributed to 50% of #6 below.)

6)  At one point the other day, there were 4 kids crying at the same time in my classroom.  That's WAY too many tears for me.

5)  A student's mother called the school to request a conference with me.  I called her back to schedule a conference and listened as she explained that it was about time we met up to discuss her child's progress.  I bit my tongue to keep myself from reminding her that she failed to show up for her scheduled appointment on the school-wide conference day back in November.  We agreed on a day and time and hung up.  90 seconds later she called me back to reschedule.  As I hung up for the second time I realized I had carelessly called her from my own phone.  Great, now high-maintenance parent has my cell phone number.

 

4)  I held out my hand to help a student with his work, and he sneezed on it.  Twice.  It was nice and wet with lots of snotty germs.

 

3)  The classroom was almost completely silent as the students worked independently on their workbooks.  Suddenly, a boy stood up and started singing "Moves Like Jagger" at the top of his lungs.  It was accompanied by a little dance.  Try getting your class back after that.

2)  One boy was sitting on the floor, quietly reading a book.  Another boy stormed over, slapped the unsuspecting boy across the face, and started screaming.  Why?  Because he wanted the book.  I hate telling parents news like this.  What parent wants to hear that their 6-year-old can't control his anger?

1)  A student was in la la land, zoning out and squirming instead of completing his seat work.  When I asked him why he wasn't working, he said, "My butt itches."  I was stifling my giggles when I suddenly noticed that only one of his hands was on the table.  I don't think I need to tell you where his other hand was.

Can't wait to see what the next week brings...



Lump Sum or Installments: I'll Take My Separations in Installments Please

My husband was gone for the better part of a week.  Then he came home for 48 hours before departing on his next trip.  He came home again for a frenzied 8 hours before saying another good-bye.  When he returns from this one, he'll have a couple of weeks at home before heading out yet again.  And when he returns from that, well, the pattern will repeat itself.


I have to say, these short bursts of hellos and good-byes get on my every last nerve.



Lengthy deployments suck for so many obvious reasons, but they have the advantage of providing a certain degree of predictability.  You know your husband isn't coming home for a long time.  You can establish a daddy-less routine with your kids.  You can live your life on your own schedule.  You only have to say good-bye once.  The separation is handed to you in one lump sum, and although it's never fun, at least you can create your own sense of normalcy.



The small installments of separations are different.  They're disruptive.  You can't establish a routine because your schedule revolves around his.  Just when you've adjusted to your husband being gone, knock knock, he's home again and dumping his dirty laundry on your floor.  And it needs to be washed NOW.  Because he has to repack those uniforms in the next 24 hours. 


You're so excited to spend a weekend with your husband, but that time isn't exactly quality time.  After all, you only have 48 hours for you to do laundry, for him to catch up on sleep, and for both of you to explain to the kids why daddy has to leave again even though he just got home.  Any semblance of a routine you established while he was gone gets thrown out the window until you have to put it back together when he leaves again.


But as disruptive as the separation installments are, I'm certainly not going to complain about being able to see my husband a handful of times during short, rushed visits as opposed to not seeing him at all.  In this military lifestyle, we have to take what we can get!  Those separation installments may be frenzied starts and stops with repeated good-byes, but I remind myself that they also come with repeated hellos. 


So long lump sum deployments stay away!  I'll take my separations in installments please.

What about you?  Do you prefer a separation lump sum or installments?  Do you think the installments are disruptive or do you welcome the chaos?

Advocating for Our Military Brats: How Do We Cross the Military/Civilian Divide for Our Children?

It's no secret that military families tend to believe that the general public doesn't fully understand our lifestyle.  But as I wrote in my latest post for Blue Star Families, I'm beginning to think that we can help people understand us simply by opening the lines of communication and sharing our stories.  We're all adults, right?  We're all capable of verbalizing our feelings, right?


Well, not exactly.  What about our children?  How do we help our precious military brats when civilians don't understand them? 


The other day a mil spouse friend of mine was seeking advice on Facebook.  Her husband is deployed, and she lives in a non-military town.  Her daughter was inconsolable at school, missing her daddy so much that she couldn't stop crying.  And there wasn't a single adult at her school who was able to help her.  When my friend questioned the administration about what had happened, she was told that no one at the school was trained in working with military children.


Now my friend is wondering how she can help educators understand the unique needs of a military child.  I sat down to compose an answer for her, but I found myself at an odd loss for words.  Odd because I'm both a teacher and a mother of two military brats who have endured deployments.  But as a teacher, I've only had 1 student who had a deployed parent, and his behavior never changed.  And as a parent, I've seen only minor and temporary behavior changes in my children while their daddy was gone. 


Despite the fact that I earned my teaching degree at a university in a military town and the fact that I currently teach at a school in a military town, I've never been trained to cope with, as my friend put it, the unique needs of military children.  The only reason I feel capable of understanding my military brat students is because of my experiences as a parent of military brats.  But what about my co-workers who have had no personal experiences with military families?  How would they deal with a student who was inconsolably missing her deployed daddy?  My co-workers are all fantastic teachers, most with way more experience in the classroom than I can claim.  But most of them probably have no idea about those unique needs of military brats.


So how do we advocate for our children?  How do we speak for our young military brats when they don't know how to speak for themselves?  How can we help their educators/caregivers understand their unique needs?  What kinds of resources can we share with them?



Military OneSource is a great place to start, both as a resource for ourselves as military families and for educators learning about children in military families.  Printing out online articles for teachers to read and directing them to websites like Military Child Education Coalition, Military Kids Connect, and Sesame Street for Military Families are also helpful.  But most of all, I think we all need to remember the most basic means of crossing that military/civilian divide: communication.  Inform teachers before your spouse deploys so she can start looking for behavioral changes at school.  Share the books you're reading to your child at home (you can find some of my favorites for both kids and adults here).  Describe what methods of coping are working at home for your child, such as Daddy Dolls, deployment journals, or as my friend is trying, art therapy.  Keep the lines of communication open and encourage teachers to do the same.


Our military brats do indeed have unique needs because they are unique children with unique challenges.  And they need and deserve all the advocates they can get.

Have you ever had to advocate for your military brat with educators or caregivers or other civilians who just didn't understand?  What advice can you share?  Please chime in here or join my Facebook discussion!

Top 10 List of My Kids' Cutest Quotes

Kids say the funniest things, don't they?  And I think it's my duty as a parent to write them all down and periodically share them on my blog.


The other day I was cleaning out my Word documents and found the list I started about a year ago of the funny things that come out of my kids' mouths.  It was so much fun to reread their quotes and relive those moments.  You probably won't find them as hilarious as I do because sometimes you just have to be there, but reading every single one of these again cracks me up.



Here are my...

Top 10 List of My Kids' Cutest Quotes

Big C = 7 year old boy
Little C = 4 year old girl

(10) 

Little C playing with her princess diving sticks in the bathtub: "I'll save you Princess!" said in a husky prince voice. 

"No thanks," she replied in her princess voice.  "I will help myself."

(9)

Me to Big C as he chews on a vitamin that I didn't give him: "How did you open the vitamin bottle?  It's childproof."

Big C: "I read the directions on the cap."

***SIDE NOTE TO CHILDPROOF BOTTLE MANUFACTURERS: DON'T PRINT DIRECTIONS ON CHILDPROOF CAPS.  SOME CHILDREN CAN READ.***

(8)

Me to both kids as Mr. RC tries to get some work done on the computer: "Don't bother Daddy.  He needs peace and quiet."

Little C screaming as she runs around the house trying to find him: "I'll bring him peace and quiet!!!!!!!!!!"

(7)

Big C after falling off his bike: "I hate gravity."

(6)

Me in response to Little C mumbling in the backseat of the car: "Are you talking to yourself?"

Little C, nodding: "Myself knows what I mean."

(5)

Big C looking at a book: "I think this picture is of Mars.  But no one has ever been there before."

Me: "How do you know that?"

Big C: "I read it in the newspaper."

Me: "You did?!"

Big C: "No I'm just kidding...I read it in the Economist."

(4)

Little C pretending to be a waitress: "Mommy, what do you want to order?"

Me: "I want to order no screaming, screeching, shrieking, or whining."

Little C: "You can't buy that.  We don't sell that here."

(3)

Me after Big C's baseball practice: "Big C, you have a great swing, but you have to keep your eye on the ball."

Big C: "I do Mom."

Me: "But you need to watch the ball come all the way to you."

Big C: "But Mom, I can't.  That's when I close my eyes."

(2)

Me on a particularly whiny day: "Honey, why do you whine so much?"

Little C: "So I can put you out of business."

(1)

Me on one of my longer days: "I'm done being a mommy today."

Big C: "You can't quit.  You're going to be a Mom forever.  Even in your grave, you're going to be a Mom."

Do you write down the silly, funny, precocious things your kids say?  What are some of the best of your kid quotes?

Just Another Manic Monday

Yes, it's just another manic Monday.

Is Monday killing you?

(And I apologize for getting that song stuck in your head.)

The Story of Good-byes: Raising Military Brats

"You know who my first girlfriend was?" I was minding my own business, grading papers at my desk during free time the other day when one my students decided to pour his heart out to me. 


"Your first girlfriend?"  I asked, stifling a chuckle.  "Hmmm, no I don't think I know who your first girlfriend was."


"My first girlfriend was Sara.  Do you know Sara?  I really loved Sara.  I wanted to marry her.  But she goes to a different school now.  I don't know where she is.  Who am I going to marry now?"   I reached over and gave my heartbroken little friend a hug for losing the love of his life.  "I wonder who my next girlfriend will be."  Then he shrugged his shoulders, and poof, he was off to build a Lego masterpiece with his buddies.  Ahh, the resilience of a 5-year-old. 


I watched the boy laugh with his friends, and I imagined his life as he grew up.  This wouldn't be his last heartbreak.  This wouldn't be the last time a friend left to attend a different school.  This wouldn't be the last time he lost track of friends.  I knew this because, like my own children, he is a military brat.  His life is destined to be filled with good-byes.

My kids have already said lots of good-byes.  At almost 8 years old, my son has lived in 5 different houses in 2 different states and 2 different countries.  My daughter, at 4 years old, has lived in 3 different houses in 2 different countries.  They've said good-bye to friends who were PCS'ing, and they've said good-bye to friends because of our own PCS'es.  They've seen friends come and go, and they've seen old friends make reappearances in new locations.  Yes, the military lifestyle is filled with good-byes.


Luckily my children don't remember most of these good-byes because they were both too young to remember our last PCS move, and so far we've been successful at homesteading at our current duty station.  This is actually the 3rd year my son has attended the same elementary school!  That's highly unusual in military life.  And I'm so grateful.  We've managed to keep the good-byes at bay.


But there's no guarantee how long we'll be here.  And there's no guarantee how long friends will be here.  In fact, our family will soon be saying good-bye to friends we've already said good-bye to once before.  But this second farewell will be much harder than the first.  This time my kids are old enough to understand what good-bye means.  This time they're old enough to miss their friends.  This time I have a lot more explaining to do.  This time will be tough because I'm going to be just as devastated to say good-bye to my own friend as they will be to say good-bye to their friends.


As I've said good-bye to friends in the past, I told myself it wasn't good-bye, it was see you later.  Deep down I knew that some of those people would resurface later in my life and some I'd never hear from again.  It's easy to rationalize these good-byes as an adult.  But it's not so easy for kids. 



Whether it's one of my kindergarten students saying good-bye to his first girlfriend or my son saying good-bye to his Bey Blades battle buddy or my daughter saying good-bye to the only consistent playmates she's ever known, I try to remind these amazing children, these sons and daughters of service members, these military brats who didn't ask to be a part of this crazy lifestyle, that it's not good-bye.  It's always see you later.  One day our paths will cross again.  In the meantime, we'll keep in touch and meet some new friends along the way.


I hope that my children's good-byes are limited.  I hope that the good-byes they do have to say become life lessons in appreciating friendships and working to maintain them no matter how geographically challenged they may be.  And I hope that they're always as resilient as my 5-year-old student as he searches for his next bride-to-be.

Have your military brats said many good-byes?  How do they handle it?