Yesterday I finally got the correct lenses for my new
glasses, the lenses with the stuff that makes them turn into sunglasses in the
sun. So what’s it doing today? Cloudy and rainy.
Michael was so wired last night, and was so uncooperative with Mother, after dinner I just stuck to our normal routine of movie, reading Harry Potter, and bed. We postponed finishing homework. However, I got him up an hour early this morning and he sat and finished his Science workbook pages. He whines a lot about exercises where he has to read and find the answer. I have taught him this: read it aloud. Look at the question. Find the key word or phrase in the question. Look for that word or phrase in the text. Re-read the paragraph containing the key word. Then, and ONLY then, can you ask for help, if you still don’t get it. He doesn’t get it if he reads silently. He must hear things read to him, or read them himself. What kind of learner is that, auditory? I always had to write things down to remember them.
He was fussy and sleepy early this morning, until I
gave him some orange juice and a bite of banana. Then, presto, he was
cooperative and able to finish his own homework.
So he finished his Science while I made his regular breakfast. He had a bowl of pasta and cheese, leftover from last night.
We have learned the hard way that if he doesn’t eat quality snacks [including protein] he becomes either hyper or non-functional. The difference is so dramatic it’s scary.
I thought raising a boy would be much easier than
raising a girl. I was never a girly-girl, preferring to wear my brothers old
clothes and play football in the street, to doing girl stuff. I was flat wrong.
Raising Alesia has had its tough moments, but Michael goes to dark places when
he’s upset. Given his history, I cannot leave him in his room to sulk for
hours. I might leave him in there one hour, like last night, but he curls up in
a ball and sleeps. That was how he handled difficulties in Kazakhstan, sleeping
a lot. It’s what depressed people do.
I used to indulge in pity-parties sometimes when I
was a teenager, but after a short time, my mother would always throw open the
door and command me to get off my butt and DO something. She can put a tone in
her voice that simply will not take no for an answer. She could stop a train
with that voice. Long after I left home, if I was having a day when I was
really blue, wallowing on the sofa or in the bed, after a couple of hours I
would hear her voice in my head, and I would pull myself out of it. I am trying
to imprint my kids that way.
My dad has been dead 13 years and I still sometimes hear his voice in my head.
Michael’s saving graces are his sweetness and his humor.
When I came home today from work, the kids and I ran around frantically for a while, getting the kids ready to go camping. I posted a camping packing list outside their rooms. They tend to forget a lot if I don’t give them a packing list. My friends Melissa and Andrew took them up to the North Georgia mountains late this afternoon.
So anyway, things finally settled down late this
afternoon, and while we were waiting for the kids to be picked up, Mike and I
read some Harry Potter and Mike calmed down. He snuggles very close to me when
we read. I know he feels like he’s too big to want a cuddle from mama, but he
craves affection and closeness, probably because he missed out on it so much in
Kazakhstan. We were having a nice moment, and suddenly he looked deeply into my
eyes and touched my chin softly. “Can you get rid of the beard before I come
home on Sunday?!” he said, a wicked twinkle in his eye.
I laughed. When I told Mother about it later she laughed really hard.
One of the unfortunate things about being menopausal is I get little whiskers on my chin, and I am oblivious to them until Mike points them out. One of those many little joys of menopause…
The house is way too quiet tonight.
I took Mother and we had dinner at Bambinelli’s, but it’s been a dull evening
since then. I miss the kids.
