I just can’t figure out the posting of pics here, they always come up HUGE. Then again, I have my camera set to take them BIG.

Just linking to my Writing Mother blog to show you some more pictures that I’ve taken. I’m doing Jodie Coston’s free online photography course. It’s awesome. And, of course, free.

We are almost half-way through summer. Do you realize that? Holy cow… summer used to be the days of laziness, the slow, hot days where you wandered about with not much to do other than beat your best score on Ms Pacman or play the newest Atari game. Or racing through the latest Trixie Belden book, stealing your cousin’s newest Sweet Valley High book (sorry Jo) and living in a bathing suit. 

Anyone remember those days?

I definitely miss those days. I hope that my kids’ summers are just as relaxing, that they are able to have time to be bored and come up with something to do on their own. I feel quite guilty as a working mom. My daughter is in day care, spending her summers in the same schedule as any other season. My son is thrust into a bunch of different day camps. “Sports of all sorts” one week, “soccer camp” the next, “science camp” to come.

Back Then When We Were Kids, our moms didn’t work outside the home. They could let us sleep in (they could sleep in!) and they had time to dry our bathing suits in the sun before we put them on again; they could make lunch fresh instead eating out of ziploc bags. We could spend a week with our cousins … even a month. 

I’d love to live in those days. Only this time as a mom.

No, it’s not even one of my books. And no, I’m not getting money for saying this. (I can’t quite figure out those affiliate programs with Amazon or Chapters…)

I started to read the book yesterday. It was sort of an impulse purchase while I was perusing the local Chapters to find myself a present (for myself) for finishing my book. It practically screamed at me from the shelf, “Pick me! Pick me!”

Army Boy will be going into grade two in September. Like any other parent, I had these wonderful visions for his school years. Oh how he’d love to write stories with me, do homework at the kitchen table, enjoy the learning environment… oh, wait, that was me you say? And my son is not me? Gee. How did that happen?

Let’s just say that his first couple of years in school have not been very much fun. (School is not supposed to be fun, you say, I disagree.) He has experienced some… friction … in the classroom. Last year he had two teachers and I won’t go into too many specifics but there was one who was simply amazing and another who was new (and didn’t have children of her own, which the other one did). The new teacher was his main teacher and she said things like “Army Boy needs to learn to be more organized”, “Army Boy needs to work on his organizational skills”, “Army Boy is disruptive during quiet times”.

When it came to a head this spring I asked her, “Please, tell me his strengths. Tell me what he is good at.”

I recieved no answer. None at all. Not even an acknowledgment.

Instead of being angry (which was a very viable option, I am a redhead afterall), I was sad. Very sad. How can a child go through several months of school with a teacher and that teacher not have one thing to say about what he’s good at.

I know what he’s good at:

• He’s empathetic
• He has high verbal skills
• He is thoughtful
• He is creative
• He thinks ten steps ahead
• He works hard at making the right choices
• He runs fast and has great hand/eye coordination
• He expresses emotion

Then there are things he does not do well, but I don’t bother to list them because there is no point. Yes, you heard me, there is no point to listing deficiencies.

As a society we want to fix things. We want standardized regulations for everything so that we can evaluate, correct flaws and errors and make things right. This works well with building codes, laws, regulations, government and banking.

This does not work well with people.

 The author, Jenifer Fox, has some strong opinions on how our school system is structured: focusing on weakness rather than strength, standardized testing, diagnosing learning disabilities vs difficulties, medication and a host of other topics. Although she’s American and writes about the American school system, we in Canada should pay attention. We are not that much different. We are still teaching in the same way we were fifty years ago.

So she developed something called The Strengths Movement. She defines it this way: ”At its core, the Strengths Movement is a social movement intended to change how we view ourselves, our children and our world. We have all been conditioned to see weaknesses and mine for deficits. This movement seeks to change that perspective and then apply the positive strengths perspective to our families and our schools.”

As I’ve read the book I’ve been moved to tears several times. Sometimes it’s because I remember the things I went through in school — the frustration with math class, the rebellion in science class, the embarassment in gym. And sometimes it’s because I see what has happened in my son’s academic experience already, mainly the focus on his weakness.

But mostly I find myself so motivated by the book, so inspired and filled with hope that I want to jump up and shout from the rooftops to every parent: READ THIS BOOK. Hold yourself, society and the education system accountable for enriching the lives of your children, for awakening their passions and lighting the flame of learning in them. Don’t spend your time cataloging the deficiencies with your child when there is so much more inside of them.

There was one quote in the book that hit me like a ton of clay bricks:

Children are born as individuals. If we fail to see that, if we see them as clay to be molded in any shape we like, the tougher ones will fight back and end up spiteful and wild, while the less strong will lose that uniqueness they were born with. ~ Melvin Konner.

How many times have I looked on my kids as clay to be formed, as blank slates to be filled? In fact, their clay is already formed. Their slate is chock full. It’s up to us to help them scrape away the vernix and find their solid bits. We cannot view them as structures with weaknesses that need to be shored up, they are not bridges and buildings. They are not blobs of clay to be formed into useful things.

Reading this book has changed me as a parent. As a person, as a boss at work, as a wife. I’m going to recondition myself. I’m going to see strength where I’ve seen weakness. I’m going to value and celebrate that, even if it is against the norm. Even if it’s unpopular. Even if no one else is doing it.

Ok peeps, it seems that finishing a book under deadline while working full time, battling allergies and puking babies and juggling the big kid’s summer schedule…. I soothe my stress with Food and Lots of It. All of It, apparently.

I say this because I am getting big… big … big.. biggety big…

I’m going to be very open and honest here (mostly I am, really) and tell you all that I’m at my highest weight ever. Yes, this includes while being 9 months pregnant.

Yes really. And can you pass me those butter tarts please. I’m just going to stick one in my back pocket so that it has the shortest route possible to MY BIG BUTT.

So, here’s the deal.

I signed myself up for (no, not weight watchers, that would be kind of smart) a writers’ conference. Not just any conference by the Surrey International Writers’ Conference. I’m signed up, my flight is booked, time is booked off of work and my roomie has booked the rooms.

And I don’t want to go fat.

October 24-26th.

Averaging a pound a week is safe… so, 15 lbs.

Except OF COURSE I’d rather that it were closer to 30 lbs. Probably not safe. On the other hand… it’s not dangerous.

Probably not going to happen if I continue my little relationship with Rickards White. But you drink it with an ORANGE so it’s part FRUIT & VEGETABLE. And one part GRAINS. Hmmmmm.

So I’ve been at the gym Wed/Thurs and I rode my bike Thursday night. Today was a bit of a write-off but I did some weights/lunges etc.. at home after the baby went to bed. Yes, ok, so I had a beer. But I have not had a butter tart. Even though they call to me with their sweet voices. The bastards.

My mother emailed me yesterday to say that she’d bought a trampoline for the kids (and for her to exercise on) and asked if I’d have a talk with Army Boy about trampoline safety before they visited (which is today).

I had a minor freak out.

Now some might suggest that you can’t bubblewrap your kids. To you I say: yeah, you’re right. It’s totally too hot and they complain. A lot.

But trampoline injuries can be serious. More serious than regular sports. Mom’s backyard is all cement. The trampoline is apparently full-sized and comes with a net, so hopefully no one will crack their noggin. But it’s not so much my son I’m worried about. It’s the baby. She’s 23 months and doesn’t have that fear gene.

(Nevermind that children under six are not even supposed to be on trampolines. Not “with supervision”, just “not on” them. http://www.consumeraffairs.com/news04/2006/05/trampoline.html, http://www.tortslaw.com/html/trampoline.html)

So is life just supposed to suck now when she goes to Grandma’s? Is she just not allowed on that big toy out in the backyard? It’s stupid, stupid, stupid to tease a kid with a big toy. They go to Grandma’s quite regularly and I can guarantee you that she will want on it every day. Army boy is almost seven, he can understand basic safety instructions. The toddler … not so much. And not for a few years either.

What bothered me most was that no one thought to mention this to me before it was all purchased and was being set up. Yes, I know it’s not at my house so I have no say over its purchase. But if you’ve bought something that is for my kids that is potentially dangerous I want to know first. By not doing so, they undermine my authority by making a large purchase for my kids without any consultation at all. It sends completely mixed messages to the kids. Kind of like the time I didn’t want video games introduced to my son at all since I knew he’d LOVE them and want to play them all the time. He was three. Grandma introduced them. What part of “I don’t want him to play video games” was unclear. Or when they bought the loft bed that was six feet off the hardwood floor for a kid that wasn’t yet five. Then there are unknowns at work, family members I don’t trust who may be asked to watch the kids “for just a minute” while they are on the trampoline.

I don’t know if I’m coming or going right now, I have a large deadline looming and some work to do. One child has slept in and one doesn’t want to go to soccer camp because “it’s booooring”. (I’ll tell you what boring is… spending the day in your room while mommy works.)

But seriously, what would you do?

I was just finishing up some “stuff” for a real life example of sustainability for my environmental horsekeeping book and I wondered if I had been the last to know about the London 2012 Olympics and the incredible reclamation project they have going on at the site of the games.

http://www.london2012.com/documents/oda-publications/demolish-dig-design-update.pdf

I was inspired to goosebumps.

Shoot, a year ago I was driving around in my Hemi with no thought to anything environmental or sustainable… now I’m inspired by dirt washing and site reclamation. What’s wrong with me? Am I going to have to hand in my Conservative party membership and switch to the Greens? Does this mean that I have to stop shaving my armpits?

Just the other day I heard about the third or fourth person putting their life up for sale on ebay. I think if I put my life up there, I’d have to pay
someone to take it way to recycling. I’m being overdramatic. I know. It’s not all that bad.

Allergies (hay fever) are kicking my butt right now. Never in my life have they been so bad. We had two weeks of rain, and now two weeks of hot sunny conditions. I think the plants and their evil pollinators of pain are in overdrive. I’m taking Allegra 24 hour each morning and following up with a decongestant each night and I still wake up simultaneously wanting to scratch behind my eyeballs and eat a box of crackers without chewing so I can scratch the back of my throat. And the sneezing? Did you know you can sneeze in your sleep? Well, you’re asleep until the actual sneeze, which wakes you up. kind of like being dead asleep and having your toddler kick you in the side of the head. Fun!

The book is due in ten days. I just now found the perfect expert on the planet. The one who SHOULD be writing this book but is so happy to see ME writing it. she’s offered to review it before publication. And she may consider it as part of a certification course on the topic we’re both
involved in. Woot woot!

Dad is in town. He hasn’t seen us in over two years. But he’s finally met his granddaughter. she’s not sure what to think of him just yet. Dad is
staying at Mom’s house . they’ve been divorced for about 25 years. mom’s husband doesn’t mind, which is very good of him. Dad’s trying to help out around the house, doing some yard work and what not. But his Fibromyalgia flares up a bit here and there. He was poisoned with a chemical at a place he worked at five years ago and has been fighting “the system” every since. We may find out good news for him in September regarding his case. Send prayers please. His doctors have told him that because of the poisoning they suspect he’ll have dementia, Parkinson’s or Huntington’s within seven years. Dad wants to get his claim payout, buy a boat and go sail around the world. Then if he does get any of the above he’ll die at sea. What? Yeah, I don’t know even what to think about that.

We had a few beers over at mom’s last night and it was like a trip down memory lane. everyone talking about past events, you know how those family gatherings can be. Parts were very funny, parts were treading dangerously close to the Cliff of Calamity, knowing that just a misspoke word could break up the serenity. Parents are weird, I’m sure I’m weird as a parent too. or at least I will be when my kids are more aware of our weirdness. But I think MY parents are weird. I can almost predict their actions. Nothing is a surprise any more. Dad sits back and chuckles and doesn’t say much until there’s a topic he can sink his teeth into and shake it to death with his opinions. Mom is all laughs and jokes until someone offends her by laughing AT her and then she stomps off for quiet time, returning later but never in the jovial mood she started with.
 

The funny/not-funny moment happened when we started talking about my brother’s cat that died 20+ years ago. Mom started telling the story and said “I went to let him out and I shoed him out and pushed the door closed really hard. but he turned to come back in and.” at this point my dad and I both burst in saying “you told us it was the WIND that slammed the door on the cat and killed him!” Not a particularly pleasant topic and poor kitty and all. but we found it hilarious that mom had hidden what really happened for 20 years and then accidentally let it slip. I can understand why she lied to me, I was a kid, dad didn’t understand why she lied to him (newsflash dad, it was because you were kind of a jerkface back then) and we laughed because the story has been re-told a hundred times about that poor fated kitty and I’ve worried about doors and wind and little animals for years because of it. And what else was I going to do? Get mad at her accidental felinicide? It was an accident, sheesh. She got mad and stomped away. (Uh, mom, if you are reading this… I recognize the behaviour because I’ve done it myself many times. And no one was mad about the cat anyway.)

All night I was struck by the incredible genetic mutation that it took to create me. On one hand you can see where I get my personality traits from. Mom and Dad often pointed out “see, that’s you” or “see where she gets it!” but then my opinions are so very different. But mash the personality traits from the two of them together, stick it in a blender and you will get me.

Something that looks so totally different but bears the same properties.

Hubby held his own, a little too well sometimes, making me grit my teeth and mentally hang on when he started grappling with my dad over a specific topic. Hubby knows what I’m like because our opinions are very similar on many political topics and a few social ones. But I’m tired after 30+ years and don’t feel the need to argue with the parental units about many topics. There are very few things we can agree on.

We agree that my brother’s dog was horrible and mean and needed to be put down; we agree that it’s better for a mom to stay home; we agree that drugs are much worse today (in terms of their chemical composition) than the stuff my parents did; we agree that if God wanted us to worry about homosexuality he would have listed it in the top ten; we agree that my kids are awesome.
 

I could write a book about what we don’t agree on. But there is no point.

I am happy that my kids get to see my dad. I wish he were closer, but he chooses to live where he lives and will probably stay there until the court case is settled. Then he might move to one of the islands off the coast of BC. Back to Pender Island I think. If he gets enough money from the settlement (assuming he wins) then he’ll buy a sailboat. We can probably visit then. Right now he lives somewhere very kid-un-friendly with no room for guests.

Anyway, I needed to get some of these things off my chest. thanks for listening.