May the force be with you

I'm sure everyone knows by now that Chase had just the most horrible week. Yes, we did take a trip to the ER very early Sunday morning, and by "Sunday morning," what I really mean is the middle of the night. Driving through the ghetto was particularly interesting. (Really, can't Cincinnati do something about that? All of our hospitals are located right in the heart of gang-domain. And there I was in my black Suburban, probably the most preferred vehicle of gangbangers, just praying there was enough light to see all the mud caked on the sides of my car. "Hello! Not a rival, here! Just a woman that really needs a vehicle with 4-wheel drive!" Anyway . . .).

But the whole week was pretty bad. He'd have these terrible asthma attacks followed by moments where he just wanted to run and play. Wednesday night he was up most of the night coughing and having difficulty breathing. Therefore I decided that he would not have to attend school on Thursday. He seemed comforted by that.

Thursday morning (as I was preparing to take Micah to school) Darth Vader comes running through the house, wielding his light saber. Then Darth begins to attempt to engage Micah in a battle.

Are you kidding me?

"If you are well enough to be Darth Vader, then you are well enough for school!" (me)

"Well, I didn't know that!" (Chase)

Seriously, do I need to write these rules down somewhere?

Monster Jam Spectacular

Today the boys created monster trucks and held a Monster Jam. Top photo: Chase's creation set in a wall of fire (notice the smoke pluming out behind). Bottom photo: Micah's creation in an arena (notice the crowds of people in attendance).

If the carrot was in your ear, then don't eat it

As the words left my mouth, I was struck with wonderment. Who ever says things like that? Who ever has the opportunity to?

Moms do, apparently.


Ok, now for the Micah update:
He earned a small LEGO set!! Yep, an entire week went by without forgetting one single school assignment. I am so proud. Of course, now we are dealing with Micah's reasoning that he should be able to earn a new LEGO set a week. (Um, yeah, we need to stretch it out to a month-long project, now.)

Apples of my eye

"Ah, the sweet smell of apple, I haven't tasted you in so long." - Chase Staggs (2/6/09)

Updates:

I've met with Micah's teacher and the gifted coordinator about Micah's responsibility issues. We have new tools in place: a checklist next to the door and a goal of one week of turning everything in. We'll see how next week goes (cross your fingers). He's excited about it. We've turned it into a science experiment, per the advice of his GC. We are monitoring how it goes a week at a time and if it doesn't, then we try something new. We will compare notes to decide which methods work best. Micah is the ultimate decision maker. Reaching goals = prize of Micah's choosing (within reason).

Chase was the author of "The New Bully in Town." Starbucks gift cards coming soon.

It's all (not so) fun and games

Last Saturday was Micah's basketball game. His team has yet to win a game. They've come so close, but still no win. It was rather silly to even have a basketball game Saturday because the week before everyone was snowed and iced in and unable to practice. But the game must go on!

Not one single boy on that team played well, Saturday. No one seemed to know what they were doing out on the court. Micah included. On two separate occasions the ball practically reached out and grabbed him and he missed it, both times. He let his guy get away from him several times. He only attempted one shot (and missed).

Why is that so hard for a parent to watch? I know it's not just me because I've heard other parents 1) yell at their kid during and after games and 2) make excuses for why their kid didn't play perfectly.

Anyway, on the second time the ball whizzed past Micah, I heard this angry sounding woman yell out, "Watch the ball, Micah!" And then Micah looked up in the stands at me and nodded, sullenly. Yes, folks, it was me, Mommy, yelling rudely and without compassion.

Not even one minute later, Micah's guy that he was supposed to be guarding got loose with the ball and scored. How my heart fell when Micah looked up in the stands at me, again, with that broken look.

Please, don't let me be that mom. Not the kind of mom that gets mad if her child doesn't outscore, outperform, outdo everyone else.

This is a game. There are plenty of opportunities in life to fail, to hurt. Not this, though. It is a game. Wasn't it invented for pleasure?

Well the game ended. Boy did it end. 25-3.

Micah doesn't know if he wants to play basketball anymore. How awful. I hope it's not because of me. I apologized to him. Then I let him know that all that matters in games is that he has fun and tries his best. But mostly has fun.

He said "ok," but he didn't say it with much conviction.

This mom stuff - it's not for wimps.