School

Flawed Pony Parenting Logic and Home-schooling

2012-05-02 19.50.16Ever since reading this story and that one about the kid with the My Little Pony backpack, my mind has been reeling.

To make a longer story short, here’s the news recap hailing from North Carolina.

This 10-year-old kid was being bullied at school because of his blue fuzzy My Little Pony backpack. His mom went to the school to complain. The school counselor mentioned that the easiest solution would be for the kid to get a new backpack. The principal later called the child’s mother and told her that the child was no longer allowed to bring the backpack to school. The mom flipped out. The mom now homeschools.

I have to say that last sentence, “The mom now homeschools,” does not surprise me in the least. It seems that nowadays the homeschooling road is the most popular for a lot of unsatisfied parents. I am not here to pass judgement on homeschooling parents. In fact, I might end up homeschooling one of mine next year if she doesn’t get her school transfer. I am here however to pass judgement on flawed logic and parents who can’t be honest with themselves.

First of all, let me make two things very clear. One – I am NOT o.k. with bullying. In this instance and in every instance the bully children should have been reprimanded and disciplined. (I don’t know if they were appropriately or at all from the news stories.) However, typically bully children come from bully homes, so there is only so much a school can do to change behavior.

Secondly, I believe children should be given space to be who they want to be. You want to wear a pink tutu and your 12 and a boy? Go for it. Are you a girl who wants to play football? More power to you.

Now, to the point I really want to make that seems to be widely ignored in modern bully stories. Parents, pull your heads out….Every day, you are sending your kids off to war…..and you are not equipping them with the skills that they need.

What skills? The skills of socialization, survival, problem-solving, and leadership to name a few.

Here is some flawed logic that I have seen people use to support their choice to homeschool.

Sweeping generalizations (bad stereotyping)
All the kids at that school are mean. They are all bad kids. I’m pretty sure this is never the case.

Hasty conclusions with inadequete support (more than one personal example for validity for your argument)
In homeschooling this can look like: Well, wow, this kid was homeschooled and went to Harvard, therefore my kid can also.

Non sequitor (It does not follow)
I graduated from high school therefore I can teach my kids til they graduate. Yes, you can, but this logic is really bad.

Casual fallacy (one event merely follows the first and isn’t necessarily because of cause/effect)
My child got in trouble at school today because his teacher was in a bad mood. Is that the real reason? Or is your child honestly having behavior problems that need to be addressed? Maybe your child is causing the teacher’s foul mood and not the other way around.

Ad hominem attack (an argument that is not balanced but based solely on personal opinion)
Common core is awful therefore my kids should not be schooled with it.

Circular reasoning (the evidence and conclusion restate each other)
Schools are failing because teachers are failing.

False dichotomy or false dilemma (Either/or arguments that oversimplify complex answers to two solutions)
I can either keep my kids in a public school I am not happy with or I can homeschool. These are not the only two solutions to a complex problem.

I know of many parents who have used very bad logic as their sole foundation for homeschooling. I also know many parents who are really harming their kids by homeschooling ineffectively.

So what does this have to do with the pony kid who was bullied? I believe at the root of both homeschooling and bullying lies a much bigger problem: parents who are not honest with themselves. Parents who are failing and laying the blame on someone else.

In the case of the boy with the pony backpack, I believe the parents failed to teach their child how to be confident in his pony-touting ways. I would never send my kid off to war without the weapons he would need to fight it, and you can be sure that I also would not let my child walk into a cafeteria of potential bullies without first discussing how to defend himself in his unconventional backpack/lunchbox choices.

Likewise, I would not just believe homeschooling to be the best thing for my kids if they were having trouble in public schools. As adults, we have troubles coming at us from every direction. We can’t just hide away at home to avoid our problems. We have to face them head on. The really scary part about a larger percentage of the population homeschooling is the fact that all of the home-schooled kids first learned behaviors at home that may be the biggest culprit in them not having success at school. The solution of pulling them out of school to address the problems that are only perpetuated at home is totally counterproductive. Unless, of course, we gain awareness collectively as a family and put change in motion.

Before you feel all judged, let me give you several examples from my life as a concerned mother.

First, we had a terrible experience with public schooling at an inner-city school in Knoxville, TN where we used to live. The principal was bad. Most of the teachers were heroic. The majority of the student population was grossly neglected. The school was neglected. The playgrounds were falling apart. The school didn’t participate in field trips. EVER. Abigail’s second grade teacher was in her first year and totally ill-equipped. Frustrations were high every day. Abigail would come home crying because the teacher made the whole class miss recess again even though she never personally had bad behavior. She no longer could drink chocolate milk at lunch because the principal pulled it off the shelf with the logic that it was causing misbehaved kids to misbehave even more. Violence was taking place in the second grade. One boy threw a desk at another and broke his nose.  Forget the fact that no learning was taking place. How could it with all the other distractions? Yes, I had every right to pull Abigail out and home-school her especially after addressing our concerns with the administration to not have anything change. We didn’t pull Abigail. She survived the second grade and the next year we humbly and gratefully accepted a “No Child Left Behind” school transfer. Abigail’s new school was a haven and we all loved it. When Abigail went on her first field trip in third grade she was in seventh heaven. Abigail is now fourteen. She often talks about her experiences at her first school. They shaped her into what she is: one resilient, tough, and adaptable kid.

Do I judge any parent who pulled their kid out? No. Not at all. In fact I would applaud their courage. However, I do think that if a parent makes a choice to home-school, they better look around and have a very honest assessment of what their child is going to learn at home. When one home-schools they have to recognize that their child is now being influenced almost solely by their family. Are you going to give them all the experience they need to thrive in the real world? Are you going to be perpetuating in them bad behaviors that you just don’t want to fix: sleeping til noon, having bad hygeine, learning as little as possible, not teaching discipline, etc. If you are going to home-school, I think you should ask yourself WHY your kids are (or would) struggling in public school in the first place….the source of their trouble is more than likely YOU, not the school. The kid at Abigail’s school that was throwing desks was more than likely frustrated with his bad teacher, but the reason he threw a desk while Abigail came home crying every day was the difference of what was taught in their home. It is hard to change. Possible, but hard. You better have a really fine-tuned game plan of how you are going to change yourself and teach your children at the same time.

My other experience in still playing out. Sophia is twelve and does not want to have to attend the school in the boundary of where we just moved. She has not a single friend at this new school. We are working with the school district to get her a school transfer next year back to the junior high where her friends will be attending based on the extreme anxiety she is having over the situation. The district asked for a letter from a health-care professional. We went to the doctor last week. I explained Sophia’s anxiety and her shyness and tendency to isolate. I then said, “If we can’t get this transfer, I will probably just home-school her for a year until we move back to our old school boundary.” The doctor didn’t shy away with her response, “If you are worried about her isolating, wouldn’t home-schooling be the worst possible scenario?” She was right! Anyone who knows me, knows that I in no way am modeling shy behavior for my daughter. She came that way. I, however, as her parent, have to make decisions that will help her overcome her weaknesses instead of feed into them.

Wow, this post got long quick. I think the very hardest part of parenting is being able to get outside ourselves and our flawed personal-protecting logic to honestly assess how our weaknesses are promoting the same in our children. And even harder than the honest assessment is changing. The change has to start with us as.  Yes, this can be done, whether or  not we send our kids to public school or if we home-school, if we are teaching our kids to be bullies or our children are being bullied, but by all means, let’s make sure we are doing the hard work. We owe that to our kids.

 

Everyone is insufferable, except for Sophia, she’s funny.

This is a comical moment I have been waiting to share until after the pregnancy announcement. The first three months of this pregnancy were pretty rough for me. I was super tired, emotional, and pretty cranky. I tried my hardest to power through but everyone who lives we me knows that I just wanted to sleep. The kids were pretty good at leaving me alone. Mostly because they probably didn’t want me to bite their heads off. Bless their little hearts. Sophia, however, always has to take things a step further. She is the ultimate peacemaker.

sophia

So one day as we were driving home from school. I complained out loud about Sophia’s teacher. (Please don’t find this post Mrs. Arnold – but if you are here by some crazy chain of events, you might as well know, you are total control freak. You scare me and I’ve been a room parent a long time.)

It was around Valentine’s Day. (Of course back in the beginning of the year I had been tricked into being the classroom parent for the hardest room in the school. All the PTA parents didn’t feel the need to inform me of such, but I should have known when they weren’t willing to do the job themselves. They are always willing to do everything.)

The 6th grade teachers have high expectations. They want us to plan a whole carnival for every holiday and to coordinate with parents from the other room so that we can all combine the fun. WHAT A PAIN! I did my duty for Halloween and Christmas and trapped a lot of other parents along with me, but this time I had politely told Mrs. Arnold that I would be glad to do the obligatory Valentine swap and treat but that I just couldn’t find the energy for The Ringling Brothers. She promptly e-mailed back that she would handle it . (Which probably means that the parents from the other room who got the whole thing dumped on them hate me – so be it – if they can’t set boundaries that is their problem.  And they probably aren’t pregnant so I will gladly let them handle it.) So I was  updating Sophia on where we stood with Valentine’s and was murmuring like I often do.

Sophia being the sweet girl that she is has learned to use humor as her go-to escape from negativity.

She silenced me mid-sentence. “Mom is that you, or is that the tadpole talking?”

I laughed at my daughter’s greatness and answered…

“The tadpole, of course….it’s an ornery little thing.”

That is my story and I am sticking to it, Mrs. Arnold.

Home on the Range

My third grade teacher died at 91-years-old a few months back. His name was Mr. Panman, a WWII Nazi camp survivor from Holland, and one of the best teachers I ever had. I’ll never forget the emotions I felt the day he told us about running from the Nazis and tearing to shreds his back by crawling under a barbed wired fence. I cried in class while I heard his living history. I loved him so much. He always played the piano in class and he often sang us the song Home on the Range.  The class quickly learned the lyrics and always sang along while thoroughly enjoying the musical break to our daily studies. Oh the good old days. I swear if I am ever a teacher, I would employ this simple form of educational entertainment.

Oh give me  home, where the buffalo roam,
where the deer and the antelope play.
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
and the skies are not cloudy all day.
Home, home on the range.

I’m sure Mr. Panman is roaming free on a very vast range that includes a piano. Love you Mr. Panman. I can’t go to a place with buffalo and not think of Mr. Panman.

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On Saturday, while at Antelope Island, I had to break the law and get out of the car to take the photo above (of the buffalo – and the family, actually) The law-abiding family was in the rental van freaking out. I just laughed while I shot away. I was pretty sure I could outrun the buffalo just 20 feet away. The kids were begging LG to make me get back in the car saying I was going to get arrested. He assured them, “I’m staying in here with you, so one adult doesn’t get arrested.” Bella put two and two together really quick. (We were in the rental van that only I am allowed/insured to drive.) “But Dad, if mom gets arrested, who is going to drive us home?”

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On the way home we met up with Amy and Tyler and went to our favorite family restaurant. It was such an enjoyable dining experience with the cozy atmosphere, big fire, good food, and kids all getting along.

We love you Cracker Barrel. Our waiter, Kyler, was the best waiter I’ve ever had in my entire life.
I just got off the phone with the store manager to let him know to keep that kid around. I wish I would have got his photo. I guess we’ll just have to go back.

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Have a great Monday wherever you roam the range.

Feel free to sing along with your munchkins. Mr. Panman would very much approve.

Talking to the Girls about Motherhood {Vlog}

Just having a lazy summer morning with Sophia and Bella.

We interrupt Buffy The Vampire Slayer for the following message…

Contrary to popular belief giving birth is not the hardest part of motherhood, it’s the monotony of taking care of the children physically

forever and ever and ever and ever….

(Oh and I had food in my teeth not because I didn’t brush my teeth the night before but because I had gotten up two hours earlier to take Abigail to soccer conditioning – and yes those are pizelle cookies in my teeth because I love sneaking baked goods for breakfast.)

And for those of you who just can’t get enough, here are more videos of Sophia and Bella at their school’s annual end-of-the-year dance festival a few weeks ago.

When it says 4th grade it really means 5th grade and visa versa….good enough.

Life doesn’t come with a manual, it comes with an imperfect mother.

Watching this video this morning solidified one of the aspects of motherhood with which I struggle. It’s a common theme to be addressed around Mother’s Day: perfectionism. I didn’t think I had it, but I do. While taking this journey to learn more about myself as a mother, it has been brought to my attention that one of the reasons I am often unhappy is because perfectionism is a myth, especially as a mother.

I ran into an old mission companion of mine at the library the other day. I tried to pour  my heart out to her explaining how stuck I am feeling. I said, “I just don’t enjoy being home.” And then I asked, “Are you happy at home?” She responded that she was for the most part and that she just needed her creative outlet and she was good. “I painted a picnic table yesterday”, she said with a smile. “I was good for the day.”

I was like, “Wha–, What?” I just don’t get it. “That’s it? You get 10 minutes of crafting a day, and then you’re good? You don’t ever feel resentful. You don’t have any further ambition that you feel is being stifled?” She looked me straight in the eye and said, “Not really.” I couldn’t tell if she was being truthful. I am sure she thought she was, but I just couldn’t believe the answer. “She had to be lying to herself'”, I thought. I tried to search within myself for the truth. She said, “You just need your own creative outlet.” I said, “I’m not really artsy. I don’t like crafting. I don’t do home decor. I love to write, but it’s all I can do (as I pointed to my 3 year old climbing the shelves) to get out a blog post, which usually takes me less than a half an hour. I don’t feel any kind of release or accomplishment when I do that.”

And then came my answer and I was so glad I had ran into a listening ear. I continued, “If I could sit and write a book all day that may give me some happiness. I also love photography, but it doesn’t necessarily make me happy. I think for those two things I feel like if I can’t sell a million copies or inspire people with my work, what’s the point?”

And the lightbulb knocked me upside the cheek. How ridiculous I sounded! I’m a perfectionist and it’s keeping me from my happy place.

Yesterday I read this beautiful letter from a mom to a child starting school and I had further recognition of my reluctance to admit my weaknesses as a mother and how I am unknowingly projecting that need for perfection onto my children. I loved this line:

We do not care if you are the smartest or fastest or coolest or funniest. There will be lots of contests at school, and we don’t care if you win a single one of them. We don’t care if you get straight As. We don’t care if the girls think you’re cute or whether you’re picked first or last for kickball at recess. We don’t care if you are your teacher’s favorite or not. We don’t care if you have the best clothes or most Pokemon cards or coolest gadgets. We just don’t care.

We don’t send you to school to become the best at anything at all. We already love you as much as we possibly could. You do not have to earn our love or pride and you can’t lose it. That’s done.

We send you to school to practice being brave and kind.

What if the only criteria for motherhood was love? And what if I admit that I will love as well as I can and that it still won’t be perfect? Nobody can love perfectly. If I could change this one little glitch in my motherhood mantra, I believe I could change the world, one future mother at a time. I have four daughters, I owe it to them to learn to be happy being an imperfect mom because really, like the rest of us, that is all they can aspire to be.

Who the heck is Mae Jemison

About a month ago my 5th grader, Sophia, came home with the information on the school’s wax museum. She was to pick an American hero to impersonate. They gave her a list of great choices such as Eleanor Roosevelt, Helen Keller, and Rosa Parks. We talked the choices over and forgot about it.

A few weeks later, after a long night at work (I now work 4 nights a week to subsidize what we call the Obama tax/health care) I came home and helped LG with the delayed bedtime rituals. As we went through Sophia’s backpack, she remembered to tell me that she had chosen her wax museum hero that day because it was the deadline. (Way to be an absent mom! – And how I would pay) My excitement was immediately erased as she informed us that she had chosen….wait for it……

Mae Jemison.

“Who the heck is Mae Jemison?” my hubby and I questioned simultaneously.

“The first female African-American astronaut,” Sophia answered innocently enough. (But I know that deep down inside she was really like, “I’ll show you, mom, for being at work.”

My mom radar immediately alarmed, “Did you say African-American?” as I carefully reanalyzed my 11 year old very blued eyed, very blonde haired, very Caucasian daughter.

It’s times like these that I am 100% convinced someone has hidden a secret “gotcha” camera somewhere in the couch cushions. And times like these happen every day at our house.

LeGrand couldn’t contain his overly exuberant smile headed in my direction with the subliminal message of, “Thank heavens I have the Y chromosome. It’s all you babe.”

Today I am proud to announce that I not only immediately committed, but embraced my daughter’s dream of being the first Caucasian girl dressed as the first African American female astronaut.

After 2 hours at the thrift store, 1 hour at the sewing machine, 5 hours at the computer, 1 hour printing, taping, and pinning (and re-washing and pinning after the other daughter’s judgement error of spilling a bottle of coke on the orange outfit waiting to be worn on top of the nightstand ), 1 hour of wig trimming, 2 hours overseeing the poster making, 1 hour of help with the speech, and 3 hours of searching for the right make-up, a stroke of genius with the snow boots that look like they belong on the moon, and 30 minutes of haggling (and losing) to the girl to let me do it before she went to school, I gladly share the end result.

And yes, she tore off the wig in less than 
two seconds after I turned off the camera.
(I forgot to mention the special trip to Sally Beauty Supply
 for what I learned is called a wig cap.)
And even then the wig was still too itchy.
White girls are so whimpy
about their beauty aides.
It’s at times like these that
homeschooling doesn’t sound so crazy.

And just in case you moms are ever
called upon for the same task,
here is everything you ever need to know
about
Dr. Mae Jemison
in the first person
 I was born on October 17, 1956 (which would make me 57 now) in Decatur, Alabama. My parents were Charles and Dorothy Jemison and I was the youngest of three. I am still alive today and achieving many things.
            I was raised in Chicago and graduated high school at age 16 and went to Stanford University on a scholarship. I graduated from Stanford with two degrees! One was a Bachelor of Science degree in Chemical Engineering, the other an Associate Bachelor degree in African and Afro-American studies. I later attended Cornell medical school and achieved the requirements to become a medical doctor.  I then went to West Africa with Peace Corps to be a medical doctor from 1983-1985.
            I then came back to America and became a doctor in Los Angeles, California. I was also a dancer so at the time I was deciding which I should be. Should I be a dancer or a doctor? And I still wanted to achieve a childhood dream, a dream I had since kindergarten, I wanted to go to space. Many people told me that I couldn’t go to space because I was a woman. But I applied to NASA to become an astronaut and they accepted me.
            On September 12, 1992, I blasted off into space becoming the very first African-American women ever to go to space. I went into orbit on the Space shuttle Endeavor and I was in space 7 days 2 hours and 30 minutes. My space mission was called STS-47. On that mission I was the science mission specialist. My mission was a joint operation between the U.S.A and Japan. My experiments dealt with bone cell research. With me I brought a picture of my old dance crew. I proved many people wrong that day. I also fulfilled my dream to be an astronaut.
            Since getting back from space I quit working at NASA. For a while I was a professor of developing countries and advanced technology at Dartmouth College. I got to be the only person who has been to space to act on the TV show “StarTrek: The Next Generation”. I have created the Jemison Group which works to bring advanced technology to people worldwide and fosters a love for science in students. Now I speak at a lot of engagements, am the President of two technology companies, and love to spend time my cats in Houston, TX where I live.

Next year, I am hoping Bella will be wise enough to pick Bill Gates, like this smart neighbor.
Of course, we would have to chop off all her hair and dye it blonde.

Just say no to mom jousting.

I recently read this blog post
after it was shared several times
by my friends on facebook.
Rage Against the minivan wrote it.
Can I rage against the minivan too
even if I drive one?

This is my two cents today.
Parents don’t have to tell other parents
what to do or not to do.
Parents have to grow a backbone
and tell their kids to NOT expect something
just because other kids have it.
This is the problem with our society in general.
Parents are all competing
instead of supporting each other.

Sometimes (actually all the time)
we just need to check out of the
Mormon mommy blogger culture.

“Oh, you throw huge themed parties for your kids,
well my kids must have that too.”

You read 10 books every night.
You always have ironed clothes.
You have sterile bathrooms.
All your clothes are from Matilda Jane.
You have an elf on the shelf.
You have a 5 course meal every night?
Your kids are each in a music lesson, a sport, and a cultural extra-curricular…
and you have 10 boys and 5 girls?
You have a leprechaun that shows up for Christmas?

Do you see how it can become a really huge problem
when you try to do everything like everyone else?

No. No. No.
That’s all it takes.

And guess what?
Your kids don’t care.

Or they may care
and then when you say no
they’ll figure it out for themselves.

Case in point.

This is Bella
pretending to be
a leprechaun
for Saint Patrick’s Day.
She thought that
Caroline deserved some fun
that we didn’t want to provide.

Newga

This little lion has been with Caroline from birth.

It was a baby shower gift.
Thanks Aimee!!
Caroline named her
sometime in her first year.
Her name is 
New-Gu
or Newga.

Every night before this sleeping angel goes to sleep
we have a routine.
We go potty, change into clean panties and p.j.’s, and read three books.

We then give each other big kisses
and I say,
“I love you the mostest.”
She then repeats it back to me
anywhere between 5 and 10 times.
Then I pull out Newga
(the last step til sleep)
and proceed to shower Caroline
with kisses from her favorite lion pal.
Caroline always tells Newga to “Stop it Newga”
while trying to hide under her covers.
Newga promises to behave,
Caroline comes out
and gives her a kiss
and then shares with lioness
her favorite pink blankie.
As I walk out of the room
I say
“Goodnight Caroline.
Goodnight Newga.”
Thank you to
Ms. Sunshine
(the pre-school teacher)
for a very permanent reminder
of how powerfully
this nightly ritual
speaks love
into Caroline’s heart.
Caroline brought this home on Valentine’s Day.
I am so glad Ms. Sunshine
wrote down exactly what
Caroline told her
even if she had no idea
what she was talking about.
We all knew
exactly who Caroline
loves.
I am so grateful to God
for giving me Caroline.
She is spoiled rotten.
We all love her so much.
Thank you God for Caroline
and for Newga
as a nightly reminder of
how blessed I am
to love and be loved.

2CUL Craft

Somehow I always get stuck
with doing the crafts for
the kids’ school parties.
All the other moms are
too afraid.
So here is what we are
doing for Valentines
this year.
And this crafty-challenged
lady
has made a tutorial
for you and yours
with all my V-day love.
1 – Use graph paper
to make block letter
2- Cut out

3 – Apply glue on graph side.

3- Stick onto sandpaper
from right to left.
Remember it will iron on
like a mirror image.
(That’s why you glue on the right side)

4 – Outline well with crayon.

5 – Color in rest of sandpaper.
(I plan to actually have hearts
but this was the scrap I used
today for the prototype)

6 – Heat up iron to cotton/dry setting.

7 – Cut out a square of an old white sheet.
(600 threadcount egyptian cotton
 is optional but soooo soft)
I happened to have a perfectly great
topsheet leftover
from our tragic “ruined by talon toes”
sheet set
shown here on instagram.
7 – Sew up the 2 cut sides.
I will use the already folded over side
for the yarn-tie.
(Use a sewing machine if you want)

8 – This is what I did to make it go faster
(I hear you screaming you seamstress people)
I actually may just use fabric glue at school.

9 – Safety pin your yarn.
10 – Lead it through the fold.

11 – Tie big knots on each end.
(So they won’t ravel or go back into fold)

12 – Place sandpaper on finished bag
that I turned inside out from stitching.
(Hopefully you guys are smart enough 
to understand that part)

13 – Turn sandpaper crayon side
 onto the fabric.
Cover with parchment paper or a tea towel.
14 – Iron (moving iron in circles)
for about 30 seconds.

Wa-la
Inspiration for this craft
came from alphamom.
Like I said above,
I plan to make them actual hearts
and either pre-make the bags
or have the kids glue them
(because of school time limits)
or do t-shirts
or just make the
sandpaper cut-outs
and send
iron on instructions home with kids.
Happy V-day
crafting all you cupid moms
who like me
 are suckers for love.
Feel free to leave
all your suggestions for betterment
below in the comments.
I have til Thursday to fine-tune.
Or just tell me how cool I am
because moms need
to love other moms.
And you’re so welcome.
I couldn’t find a single
thing good enough
on my beloved forthekids 
pinterest board
so I had to tweak.
I’m thrilled
with  my mom 
abilities
today.
As you should be too.

Sophia the Wise

The name Sophia means wise.
When my Sophia was born 
I took one look into her eyes
and I knew she was an old soul.
Sophia was on our short list,
I knew it meant wise,
and I knew the name belonged to this
little one.
Whenever I take the time to think about it,
I realize that I made the perfect name choice.
I was supported
when yesterday Sophia came home from school.
Her teacher is really into the Chinese zodiac
and Sophia’s class has been getting their fill.
Sophia said that she was born in the year of the snake
and that snakes are wise.
What a coinkydink.

I am so proud of my Sophia.
She is many of the traits listed above:
quiet, unassuming, prefers to work alone,
sympathetic, intuitive, and amorous.
She is an angel.
Truly.
She is also very talented.

I would love to take all the credit
for her compassion, kindness, and nurturing ways,
but she came to us with them.
I know that she is
not just special to me and LG
but she is also special to God.
She embodies God.
She embodies love.
She has blessed my life so much
and she makes me want to be
a better person.
The school rewarded her
yesterday
for being the way she is.
I told her she should call her Grammy
and tell her thanks
because she is so much like
my mother-in-law.

The funniest part of Sophia’s
character connection award
is that Sophia came home
and said,
“Mom, I was so weird-ed out.
I am 11,
I don’t want to be known
for love.”
I am so glad I don’t have to retire yet,
we obviously still  have a lot to learn
about love.
Well Sophia doesn’t,
she has it down.
Maybe I just need to explain.