Summertime and the livin' is easy....
It is Summer Break.
That means I have one child I can’t keep in the house, and another child I can’t get to leave the house.
Oh, OK… so I exaggerate. A tad.
But my children are as different as night and day.
Which is fine.
It just means I have to be more creative when motivating them to do something or not do something. What works for one is obviously not going to work for the other.
It gets tricky when they are both in the same room, and you are trying to motivate one to do the complete opposite of the other!
My children are not really children any more, though. They are teenagers, manchildz.
This makes motivation even dicier. Telling people who are now bigger than you to do something because you said so and you are the mom often meets with smirks, if not downright laughter.
Needless-to-say, my inveterate sarcasm and smart assedness get thrown back at me in a heart beat. (As does my Army cussing, much to my chagrin.) I guess my kids learned by example as far as those habits are concerned!
Interesting how they don’t seem to pay that same attention to detail when it comes to making their beds, brushing their teeth, or keeping their rooms clean….
My philosophy of parenting is to lead by example. Follow me! This includes sharing less appealing chores or at least doing them together. If that doesn’t work, nagging and yelling are always options. Although neither of them is very effective, truth be told. Bribery or money for chores sometimes works.
I wear a bike helmet when my kids aren’t even with me! Now that is a sign of leading by example for sure. Or being a creature of habit.
The last time I went for a bike ride with my younger son, the only way I could get him to wear a helmet was for me to wear his super cool motorcycle-style helmet and for him to wear my bike helmet. Don’t ask me why! I tried to convince him how “kool” his helmet was, but he would have nothing to do with it. He said the only way he would wear a helmet was if he got to wear mine.
OK.
Whatever.
I couldn’t help pointing out to him that that meant he was wearing a LADIES’ helmet. I mean, it wasn’t pink or anything, but it was smaller and more streamlined than the man’s version. He didn’t care, he said.
Fine. Then I didn’t either.
He could wear a ladies’ bike helmet as we cruised the streets of our hometown (possibly passing girls he knew from school), while I donned the super kool motorcycle style helmet. No skin off my ass!
At least he will still ride bikes with me.
My older son would not be caught dead riding bikes with me. Or riding bikes period. He tries not to be caught out in public with me at all too much any more. (Although he has no problem with my being his free taxi service!)
We used to do family bike rides all the time. But then he decided that was no fun. He used to go swimming with me, too; he liked to race me doing laps. Or we would go for long walks where he would regale me in minute detail about his latest favorite video game. Now he doesn’t even want to do that anymore. To be honest, I think it has less to do with me, than with his strong aversion to physical exercise.
He came into my room the other day and plopped down on my (neatly made!) bed with a sigh.
“I’m bored!”
Usually I reply to that excuse with “Sounds like a personal problem to me.” But instead I said, “The Y’s only five minutes away. Why don’t you go swimming?”
“I don’t wanna go swimming.”
“Well, then go for a walk. It’s a beautiful day out. Take your iPod with you and walk and listen to music.”
He grunted like I was a retarded Maria von Trapp suggesting he go sing “Do Re Mi” whilst skipping through the outskirts of Salzburg.
“You need fresh air!” I exclaimed. (Which was a euphemism for “You need to get off your fat ass and go outside and get some exercise!”)
“I hate fresh air.” (Which was a euphemism for “I hate exercise.”)
“When was the last time you went outdoors?” I gave him a suspicious, sideways glance (the kind that was normally reserved for, “When was the last time you brushed your teeth?”).
“I dunno.” He shrugged. “I don’t keep track of that sort of thing.”
“Don’t you want to get some exercise?” I gave up all pretensions of subtlety.
“Not really. Exercise is boring.”
“Swimming?”
“Uh-uh.”
“A walk?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Surely there must be some form of exercise you will do!”
“Martial arts,” he replied tentatively.
“Great!” I clapped my hands with glee. “Go out in the back yard and practice your martial arts.”
“I don’t know how to do martial arts.”
“Well, just twirl around and kick your leg up above your head and make weird noises! You’ve seen The Matrix.”
Although I was thinking more along the lines of Kung Fu Panda.
“When are you going to be done with the computer?” My son changed the topic.
My younger son can’t seem to get enough exercise or outdoorsness. I have a hard time keeping track of him. He could be out for a run, riding his bike, down at the Y shooting hoops, over at the Middle School field playing touch football, swimming, lifting weights, hiking through the woods, or jumping on a friend’s trampoline. He needs one of those electronic ankle bracelets like Martha Stewart had to wear. He constantly needs to be busy. And he is Mr. Social. He wants to be around other people all the time. He is always going over to other friends’ houses, or they are coming over to ours, like swarms of ravenous locusts.
This week my younger son is busy with high school football. They pretty much practice all year long, although during the off-season it is limited to weight training. Now they are weight training and doing some sorts of drills or practices. “Real” football camp is in August.
My older son has Mini Band Camp all week. So at least I know he will leave the house for three hours each day. He is a leader in the band now as a rising junior. He is in charge of the tenor saxophone section. Although he is the only one who plays tenor sax. They are teaching the new freshmen how to march and play the high school alma mater and so forth. I like it when they march on the football field. Because that means my son is getting both fresh air and exercise. And he likes band. Although, personally, I would find marching in weird patterns around a football field whilst playing music for hours on end excruciating. But whatever. “Real” band camp is in August.
This Saturday my kids will leave to go visit their dad for the summer. They won’t be back until the first week in August when they have those respective “real” camps. This means I won’t have to nag, cajole, feed, clothe, chauffeur, bribe, encourage, hug, or lead by example for six whole weeks!
Let’s get this party started.
God, I am bored already…..
That means I have one child I can’t keep in the house, and another child I can’t get to leave the house.
Oh, OK… so I exaggerate. A tad.
But my children are as different as night and day.
Which is fine.
It just means I have to be more creative when motivating them to do something or not do something. What works for one is obviously not going to work for the other.
It gets tricky when they are both in the same room, and you are trying to motivate one to do the complete opposite of the other!
My children are not really children any more, though. They are teenagers, manchildz.
This makes motivation even dicier. Telling people who are now bigger than you to do something because you said so and you are the mom often meets with smirks, if not downright laughter.
Needless-to-say, my inveterate sarcasm and smart assedness get thrown back at me in a heart beat. (As does my Army cussing, much to my chagrin.) I guess my kids learned by example as far as those habits are concerned!
Interesting how they don’t seem to pay that same attention to detail when it comes to making their beds, brushing their teeth, or keeping their rooms clean….
My philosophy of parenting is to lead by example. Follow me! This includes sharing less appealing chores or at least doing them together. If that doesn’t work, nagging and yelling are always options. Although neither of them is very effective, truth be told. Bribery or money for chores sometimes works.
I wear a bike helmet when my kids aren’t even with me! Now that is a sign of leading by example for sure. Or being a creature of habit.
The last time I went for a bike ride with my younger son, the only way I could get him to wear a helmet was for me to wear his super cool motorcycle-style helmet and for him to wear my bike helmet. Don’t ask me why! I tried to convince him how “kool” his helmet was, but he would have nothing to do with it. He said the only way he would wear a helmet was if he got to wear mine.
OK.
Whatever.
I couldn’t help pointing out to him that that meant he was wearing a LADIES’ helmet. I mean, it wasn’t pink or anything, but it was smaller and more streamlined than the man’s version. He didn’t care, he said.
Fine. Then I didn’t either.
He could wear a ladies’ bike helmet as we cruised the streets of our hometown (possibly passing girls he knew from school), while I donned the super kool motorcycle style helmet. No skin off my ass!
At least he will still ride bikes with me.
My older son would not be caught dead riding bikes with me. Or riding bikes period. He tries not to be caught out in public with me at all too much any more. (Although he has no problem with my being his free taxi service!)
We used to do family bike rides all the time. But then he decided that was no fun. He used to go swimming with me, too; he liked to race me doing laps. Or we would go for long walks where he would regale me in minute detail about his latest favorite video game. Now he doesn’t even want to do that anymore. To be honest, I think it has less to do with me, than with his strong aversion to physical exercise.
He came into my room the other day and plopped down on my (neatly made!) bed with a sigh.
“I’m bored!”
Usually I reply to that excuse with “Sounds like a personal problem to me.” But instead I said, “The Y’s only five minutes away. Why don’t you go swimming?”
“I don’t wanna go swimming.”
“Well, then go for a walk. It’s a beautiful day out. Take your iPod with you and walk and listen to music.”
He grunted like I was a retarded Maria von Trapp suggesting he go sing “Do Re Mi” whilst skipping through the outskirts of Salzburg.
“You need fresh air!” I exclaimed. (Which was a euphemism for “You need to get off your fat ass and go outside and get some exercise!”)
“I hate fresh air.” (Which was a euphemism for “I hate exercise.”)
“When was the last time you went outdoors?” I gave him a suspicious, sideways glance (the kind that was normally reserved for, “When was the last time you brushed your teeth?”).
“I dunno.” He shrugged. “I don’t keep track of that sort of thing.”
“Don’t you want to get some exercise?” I gave up all pretensions of subtlety.
“Not really. Exercise is boring.”
“Swimming?”
“Uh-uh.”
“A walk?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Surely there must be some form of exercise you will do!”
“Martial arts,” he replied tentatively.
“Great!” I clapped my hands with glee. “Go out in the back yard and practice your martial arts.”
“I don’t know how to do martial arts.”
“Well, just twirl around and kick your leg up above your head and make weird noises! You’ve seen The Matrix.”
Although I was thinking more along the lines of Kung Fu Panda.
“When are you going to be done with the computer?” My son changed the topic.
My younger son can’t seem to get enough exercise or outdoorsness. I have a hard time keeping track of him. He could be out for a run, riding his bike, down at the Y shooting hoops, over at the Middle School field playing touch football, swimming, lifting weights, hiking through the woods, or jumping on a friend’s trampoline. He needs one of those electronic ankle bracelets like Martha Stewart had to wear. He constantly needs to be busy. And he is Mr. Social. He wants to be around other people all the time. He is always going over to other friends’ houses, or they are coming over to ours, like swarms of ravenous locusts.
This week my younger son is busy with high school football. They pretty much practice all year long, although during the off-season it is limited to weight training. Now they are weight training and doing some sorts of drills or practices. “Real” football camp is in August.
My older son has Mini Band Camp all week. So at least I know he will leave the house for three hours each day. He is a leader in the band now as a rising junior. He is in charge of the tenor saxophone section. Although he is the only one who plays tenor sax. They are teaching the new freshmen how to march and play the high school alma mater and so forth. I like it when they march on the football field. Because that means my son is getting both fresh air and exercise. And he likes band. Although, personally, I would find marching in weird patterns around a football field whilst playing music for hours on end excruciating. But whatever. “Real” band camp is in August.
This Saturday my kids will leave to go visit their dad for the summer. They won’t be back until the first week in August when they have those respective “real” camps. This means I won’t have to nag, cajole, feed, clothe, chauffeur, bribe, encourage, hug, or lead by example for six whole weeks!
Let’s get this party started.
God, I am bored already…..
posted by delta at 10:21 PM
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