And on that day, I began my search for things that would remember for me. I found loads of strategies that worked (more on this later). And life has improved dramatically. The things I previously saw as a crutch for a weakness, I now saw as tools to success.

That’s really the point. They’re just TOOLS. Do we get mad at the plumber for reaching for a wrench instead of trying to twist off the pipe with his own hands? Do we look down on the cashier who uses a machine to add up our bill instead of doing the math herself? Do we think less of the doctor for listening to our heart with a stethoscope instead of using his own ear? (kinda creepy now that I think of it.) No we do not. They are simply using tools that make the desired task easier to accomplish.

How this applies to our Sizzlers
So here’s today’s dilemma. My now 14 year old Sizzler is in the same place I once was. She absolutely will forget, but doesn’t yet want to admit this to herself. My task this year is give her tools, and to teach her the value and empowerment that comes from using them.

As a result, we’ve adopted a new phrase in our house.

And how do we plan to remember?
Pick a tool. Any tool.
For example:

If I know I have to retrieve a folder at church tomorrow morning, I put a reminder note on the one thing I know I’ll take with me–my car. Right on the steering wheel, I’ll stick a note that will glare at me when I pop in to drive.

If I know I’m supposed to call my attorney at 2:15, I enlist the help of a timer. I often even put a little note on the timer reminding me of what I’m supposed to DO when that little buzzer calls to me.

My kids know that if there’s something they want me to remember in morning, they should put a note on my coffee maker. It’s the one place I’m absolutely going to visit first thing in the AM.

I use one of my favorite tools whenever I’m waiting to speak to someone who is presently otherwise engaged. I know that I must politely wait my turn. But I now also know that when my turn actually rolls around, I shall have completely forgotten what it was I wanted to say. So what’s my plan here? I hold a letter of the sign language alphabet in my hand that will remind me of my purpose. What if I need to tell this woman it’s her turn to bring muffins to the next event? I’m holding an “M”. What if I need to ask her the date of the upcoming science fair? I’m holding an “S”.

You get the idea.

Find strategies that will remember things for you.
In fact, there’s a theme to my tools:

Once you own this, life gets better.

Now, when I ask my daughter to box and refrigerate the now cooled pan of macaroni and cheese, and she answers, “Okay, let me finish this computer item first,” my follow-up response is, “Great! What’s your plan?” There’s no malice or condemnation in my tone. I simply want her to start creating a tool box of memory devices that work for her. I won’t be there when she goes off to college or gets married. They need a set of tools that they are skilled at using. Get started today. . . while there’s still time.

Sizzle Bop Mom, Cori, has had it with  her daughter’s disorganized bedroom. Her frustration is apparent in her note. So take a look, then keep reading for some solutions we’ve found successful.

Dear Carol,

I have an 8 yr. old daughter who has a difficult time with performing her tasks completely & thoroughly and it makes me crazy. For example, if she goes to change clothes, the first outfit will land on the floor or bed or someplace else other than the drawer or hanging up in the closet. There are times that I will tell her to put a brush or hairclip away and it doesn’t always make it to the proper place. It may land someplace close to where it belongs, but doesn’t always get to the designated spot. 
 
Another thing, I let her re-arrange her drawers. Upon opening one drawer I found pajamas/jeans/a shirt/skirt…all in the same drawer.  All of these get me very frustrated with her and I don’t want to be.  I want to be understanding of how she processes different things but I just don’t understand it.      
 
Cori

Dear Cori,

It’s certainly difficult when a very ordered mom is parenting a very distractible child. Two people could not be less alike. So, BOTH parties need to bring much grace to the game just to survive. But along with that, I think you have to attack this from two different angles.

Angle One: Equip Your Child
There’s no doubt that your child needs to learn skills that keep chaos at bay. But the strategies that will work effectively for this kid may be very different from those that will work for others. Consider some of these.

• Ditch hangers and drawers–Many distractible folks are happier in a room with lots of shelves in the closets instead of drawers. And loads of pegs or hooks instead of hangers. All their pants are folded, on a single shelf, and they can see them all at a glance. Have them create their own organization plan, and then LABEL everything. Because sadly, even THEY will forget their own system. (Trust me on this. I actually have a drawer labeled “underwear.” Sad but true.)
• Tie it down–I grew so weary of the inability to find a hairbrush, since I knew darn well we owned about 3,000 of them. So once my kids passed the toddler stage where I had to worry about cords, I began tying down anything I could. If I ever found myself looking for the same thing over and over again, I considered tethering it to something. Here are a few.

And you should know, just in case my girls pop into the van as we head out for church on Sunday and they tell me they didn’t have time to brush their hair. . . I have a brush tethered in the van. Cha ching!

• Melinda Borings Hair Dryer Wars Solution— Two daughters, one tidy, the other one a bit, well, less so, shared a bathroom. One loved it when all things were in their place. The other, well, less so. The big item to create the war between them was the hairdryer. Read a post  HERE from our good friend Melinda. of HeadsUpNow.com and learn how a simple solution ended the war.
• Pinterest ideas–We have bunches of creative ideas on the CHORES BOARD on our Pinterest page. Cori–I think you’ll especially like the Uh-Oh-Chores Pocket idea.
•  MORE options can be found on our blog. Here we address the very real problem of simply forgetting to do things. Take a look at this idea packed post called “I-Forgot-My-Chores Strategies.”

Angle Two: Shift Your Thinking

• Pick your battles. Ask yourself “Is this really a crisis? Or just an annoyance.” Will this child truly be unable to go through adulthood with this behavior. And sometimes the answer is, “Well, yes. But I won’t like it.” This is a good time to remember the beloved caricature of the absent minded professor. We’ve all met one (or seven) whose filing systems involve stacks of papers and towers books on the floors, files in an order that only “a beautiful mind” could follow, and a daily disheveled appearance that denotes a particular disregard for fashion. He isn’t going to win any prizes for most Zen working space. But is he functioning? Yes. It may be worth releasing this child to be more like this professor. And, of course, step away from the area of chaos singing “Let it Go!” at the top of your lungs.

• Test It: This idea comes from Cynthia Tobias, author of “You Can’t Make Me!”. She claims that we need to constantly ask ourselves “What’s the point?” Do we want them to be organized OUR way simply because it’s OUR way? Or do we want them to be able to find things they need. Tell your child that you don’t care what their room or other spaces look like, as long as they can function. In other words, if you ask them to find object X, and they can find it within 2 minutes, then we’re good. The point is NOT was the item retrieved from a neatly stacked group of similar items on the third shelf. Rather, the point is, given their own system, can they find it. Not everything should be dismissed as “not important.” That’s not where I’m going. But it is worth putting some time and energy into deciding just what IS important, and choosing carefully where you make your stand.

Well…that was many few years ago, when I was still new to the game.
And while I may once have looked upon those burned out moms with a bit of smug and arrogant judgement in my glance, I would now willingly stand shoulder-to-shoulder in line for just such words of wisdom which might be dispensed at just such a meeting.

I am tired!
This Sizzling child IS a lot of work.
To deny it is like denying the blueness of the sky.
And yes, sometimes his antics will fill me with mirth, delight and even, yes…dare I say it….energy.
But just as often, I sigh. I’m want sleep. My head hurts. My bones ache. I need to go to bed. I have yet another cold.
And tomorrow’s lessons and errands and activities loom LARGE in my head.

So to any of you who may have been judged unfairly by smug ol’ me in years gone by, I offer the HUGEST of apologies.  (please note the clear groveling in her tone.) And now, let’s consider one solution.

Letter from a Sizzle Bop Mom
I got a note from a mom in response to our piece entitled “Knowing When to Shut Up” about strategies for dealing with a Sizzler’s incessant chatter.
(You can go back and read it later if you like.)
For now, let’s read her note.
Then I’ll tell you “the rest of the story.”

Hi Carol…..thank you for this post.  How well I can relate to it!!!  Our son drives us nuts with his constant talking……about “everything.”  Even when I teach him about trying to be quiet for the family, especially in the evening, he goes on and on, sometimes repeating his stories.  Trying to hear someone else talking, trying to hear the news, or music; is quite a challenge for us.  Now I know what they mean when we are told to take time for ourselves……every week!  Do we do it?  No.  Maybe I need to plan my “escape” to the bookstore and have a cup of coffee.  Do you think they will let me stay over-night if I bring my own sleep bag? 
 
Love your emails!
                                                                                —Barbara

Barbara really got me to thinking about time for ourselves. It’s very popular these days to read that me-time is a selfish concept, and that moms should never go there.
But these articles make me uncomfortable. Even mad. I’m going to share my thoughts on this in an uncoming post. So, stay tuned for that one. . .

In the meantime, let’s talk about a refreshing idea. It all started with a unique gift for a friend.
Let me explain.

A Gift for the Mom Who Has Everything
A friend of mine was about to have her sixth baby. (By the way, have you ever noticed that it is only to homeschoolers that you will hear someone say, “Yes, we have only three children” ???  To the rest of the world, three is a perfectly adequate number. But in homeschooling circles it’s practically an embarrassing effort. So this mom of soon-to-be-six was clearly “in the zone”.)

ANYWAY…a bunch of our kids were about to get together for the purpose of a girls’ sleep over. As we moms all met in a parking lot for the necessary child-exchange, we complained that we were quite jealous of our own daughters. The idea of laying about on the floor, giggling all night with our friends sounded just wonderful. And that was when the inspiration hit me.

What do you give to a mom who’s about to have her sixth? Another bib to add to her stack of 47? A book on the ins and outs of mothering?  Toys?  Clothes? There’s no point. She’s got it all.

A Mom’s overnight party was the clear solution. It was something she didn’t already have and most likely couldn’t have
after the new baby arrived.

So that’s what we did.  We even pulled it off as a surprise, making her think she was about to attend one of those in-home demonstration parties.

We had SO MUCH FUN! Of course we stayed up later than we should. But that was when the laughter was at its peak. We ate too much, talked about everything and had nary a care till we returned home late the next morning.

It was wonderful…something akin the giant sigh that follows a long and unsupressable laugh.

While we used the birth of someone’s baby as an excuse for such a party, we all acknowledged that its powers of stress-reduction were such that we need no excuse. We immediately began planning another one for fall. No reason needed…other than it was such food for our souls.

So take care of those Sizzlers.
Give them the best you’ve got.
Laugh with them. Cry with them. Love them with all your might.
But also…get away from them once in awhile.
Your whole identity can get wrapped up in being the manager of the Sizzle-factor in your world.
Sometimes you may just need to go Sizzle-less. Your renewal of your spirit will not only feed you, but will ripple over onto those you love.

From your friends in Sizzleland.
www.SizzleBop.com

One of those life changing “Ah ha” moments.

One of those moments when a light bulb is switched on in my head providing me with illumination, of understanding, that previously had been totally invisible to me. And it all started with a simple request from my three year old son.

“Mommy, please, turn back time.”

His reasoning was quite simple. He wanted to replay an event and change the outcome.

I will admit that I have since rethought the possible error in such early and intense exposure to Star Trek.  But nonetheless . . . there it was.  A request for Mom, all powerful, all knowing Mom, to please turn back time.

I assumed I could simply explain that time cannot be turned back, by me or anyone. And with this new and reasonable information, and all would be well with my child.

Feel the power of logic.

Are you guessing at what came next?  It would be a gross understatement to say that he did not believe me. I tried again to explain the impossibility of complying with such a request. And with each additional statement I made, he grew more and more agitated. Frankly, it’s a gross understatement to use the word “agitated”. Washing machines agitate. This was more like a food processor…on steroids.

I pressed forward, certain that it would be my NEXT statement that would be the one…the one that would unlock understanding in his little three-year-old brain. Certainly if I could just word it in a way that was simple and plain enough for his undeveloped thinking to grasp, then surely his whirling and screeching and flailing would cease.

I cannot bring myself to share with you just how long we went back and forth…how long I bought into this lie.

I reasoned. —  He whirled.

I calmly responded. —  He screeched.

I pleaded for calm.– He sobbed and flailed.

Minutes turned into…..well, like I said, I don’t want to go there.

Then suddenly it hit me. I was NOT going to unlock his understanding on this topic. I had to accept something that was totally new to me. Reasoning was an act in futility. On this issue, at this time, with his brain’s current wiring, understanding will not be achieved. And to make matters worse, part of him was feeding on the energy of the frenzy. Our whole exchange was frustrating, exhausting, angering and yet feeding him all at once.

His motions became so erratic they were really a bit frightening. He threw himself about in such a way that he was at risk personal injury.

So I shifted gears. I grabbed hold of him, hugged him tight in a way that conveyed love and firm resolve and changed my speech.  Now I was saying, “Mommy’s sorry.  Mommy’s sorry.  Let’s go somewhere else. Let’s find another topic.” And now poured my energies into redirecting this conversation somewhere else, somewhere different, somewhere where he could recenter himself.

It took a long while to talk him down. And while it was certainly disconcerting for me, I can only imagine how frightening it must have been for him to be at the mercy of these strong and passionate internal forces that took over his reasoning.

But here is what I learned from this.

Never let him go there again.

Watch for the windup.

Since that lesson, I’ve always kept an eye out for the downward spiral that can result in a state where logic cannot be absorbed. It really was a rare event. But I’m still amazed at how long I continued with the same approach before I realized it wasn’t going anywhere.

In today’s contemporary advice on parenting there is great emphasis on gaining consensus and understanding from your child. And I think that there is often great value in this approach. But I’m here to tell you that it isn’t always possible, particularly with a highly wired child. So give yourself permission to sometimes say a quickly worded “no” and then put your energies into a rapid redirection campaign.  Understanding may not be achieved, but peace and order will. Understanding will have its day; it just may have to wait a bit.

Shared Reading Time

As soon as they were strong readers, shared reading time seemed to fade away. But I decided that I would read a classic—Huck Finn in this case, to my daughter over her breakfast. I had several objectives in mind:

1. I wanted her to have more exposure to good writing. Yes, yes, don’t we all?
2. I also wanted her to be able to recognize the unique language of individual authors; in this case Mark Twain.
3. I also wanted to further my own exposure to good writing—in other words, expose myself to some of the classics that had been left out of my own education. (In case you hadn’t yet figured this out, one of the BEST things about homeschooling is that we finally get the wonderful education that we wished we’d had.)
4. I wanted some quality time with this daughter. As she has grown more focused and responsible in her schooling, (and there were some years where this possibility was in question) I have had less and less interaction with her, and frankly, I missed her.
5. I also love killing two birds with one stone. What a bizarrely graphic metaphor. Seems an odd coupling with something as savory as breakfast. But since eating breakfast happens every day, we might as well accompany it with something valuable. Come hither little birds.

So read I did. And all of those aforementioned objectives were met.

But there was a surprise.

And here’s where the amazing comes in.

The Family Gathers Around

The rest of the family began to gather. One by one, they began to attend our reading—even my husband! One adult child even asked us to hold off on a particular chapter until they could join us (college finals called them away.) It was astounding to me how the act of reading a good book aloud brought people together. Previously, I had thought this was perhaps an antiquated notion, more in line with Little House on the Prairie days when people had no other options, no computer games, no amazing video documentaries, no Legos.

But there we were, gathered round the table, listening, laughing, and even analyzing the reading afterward in a thoughtful way. In fact I’ve come to a conclusion about Huck Finn: it should be read once as a child for the action-drama in it, and then read again as an adult for the amazing interwoven anti-slavery and social commentary in it—stuff most likely lost on a child’s reading.

What an amazing time I had with my family. Good grief! How had I missed this?

So now it is part of the plan. Huck Finn is finished. And we’ve already picked out our next book—Treasure Island.

I have also come to a firm conclusion on just when you should stop reading to your children: when they are eighty.

* * * * * * * *

Silly Putty. Just what is so silly about it?

Silly Putty is a big deal in our house. It is a Very Important Thing. Like many of your children, my oldest son has a serious case of “fiddle fingers” and he loves – no, needs – to have something in his hands much of the time. For him, a wad of Silly Putty does the job pretty well.

Allow me to pause for a moment and tell you…

Five Random Facts About Silly Putty:

1) It takes exactly 3 hours and one bamboo skewer to remove Silly Putty from the keys of a TV remote control.

2) No amount of bamboo skewers will remove it from a fuzzy white bathrobe.

3) Silly Putty also sticks to hair. Shampoo and a fine-toothed comb will remove Silly Putty from hair.

4) Silly Putty can be removed easily from shiny sweat pants.

5) It is the most addictive thing in the world.

So what have I learned about Silly Putty? Well, a lot, since for some reason I keep giving it to my son, who, bless his heart, can NOT resist sticking it in remote controls, on his head and on his clothing. It’s so foreign to my way of thinking that I literally do not believe he would actually find one more thing in which to stick Silly Putty… but of course he does. I am not a limit-tester in any way and to be honest my brain doesn’t ever tell me to stick something into or onto something else. Especially after I’ve already tried it with less-than-spectacular results.

I have to admit I am exhausted yet intrigued by that mental process. I have asked my son about 4,738 times, “What exactly were you thinking right before you rubbed Silly Putty into your pillow?” Each time the answer is a little different. I still don’t get it. I never will.

Insert heavy *sigh* here.

What I do know, aside from the fact that I need to buy this child several more pairs of shiny sweat pants, is that I probably seem every bit as strange to him. I’m so boring! I think one thought at a time, beginning to end. I never wander or ramble or drift or zigzag. I yawn a lot. I sigh a lot. I say things like, “Just a minute, I have to finish this first.” I’m sure he thinks I have absolutely no imagination and no fun.

A few days ago I had a very sweet and serious conversation with my five-year-old. It was about wedgies. Yep. Wedgies. And I came to the conclusion that God seldom gives us what we expect, but usually gives us what we need. As a linear thinker, someone who is goal-oriented and often stressed out about getting things done, a little wedgie talk is good – no, necessary – for my soul.

I still don’t think Silly Putty is very silly. But I’ll keep buying it. Somebody here needs it.

* * * * * * * *

Leslie Crane is a busy homeschooler, photographer, freelance radio producer and a dabbler in writing.  She is known to fans of Carol Barnier’s writings as the Classical Mom in a Vaudeville House, after she wrote a passionate letter outlining her trials as a lover of peace and order living in a house full of chaos.

Leslie really is a Classical Mom; she is a formally-trained operatic soprano, a former music teacher and a current creator of classical music programming for public radio.  She lives in Minnesota with her husband and two sons, whom she homeschools (still holding out hope that someday they will come to tolerate if not appreciate classical music).

Her photography and occasional musings can be found at: http://blog.lesliecranephotography.com

Bzzzzz! — Start dinner

Bzzzzz! — Pick children up from soccer (on time for a change.)

Bzzzzz! — Do physical therapy exercises (It might be a good idea for these reminders to include a tazer if response is delayed.)

While I love the concept of these wrist-wonders, the price (often around $70) holds me back. Then Sizzle Bop Mom Barbara wrote in and told us of a great way to do the same thing with an old cellphone! Take a look at what she can do with an NFCP–Non-Functioning Cell Phone.

I have two cell phones. One functions in the usual way–I can make and receive calls with it. The other is non-functioning; it still works for everything except the one purpose for which cell phones are meant to be used. Why do I keep it? Because it makes a great “reminder” calendar, alarm clock or timer! It has up to four different alarms that can be set with all those different ring tones, which not only clue me in to something I don’t want to forget, but also (by the use of the different ring tones, which I have mentally assigned to different purposes) tell me what it is I’m trying to remember!

Any “reminder” having to do with husband has one ring tone; things pertaining to each child have their own ring tone (WHO is it I’m supposed to be picking up after play practice this afternoon?) and kitchen-related things such as bread coming out of the oven have a ring tone of their own. I’m an artist/craftsperson, so art-related events have their ring tone as well. You can see this is a very useful cell phone even though I haven’t made a real phone call with it in something over three years.

 But I lost it last year. I really thought it was gone for good, that I had lost it far from home and would never see my little NFCP (non-functioning cell phone) again. You see, I couldn’t even call my own cell phone to find it…it’s non-functioning and doesn’t take calls. Then, many months later, husband was searching under the bed for something of his own he’d lost, and there was my little NFCP hiding in a dark corner. (Shows how often I clean under the bed.) Of course the battery had long since run out of charge, but that was minor–just plug it in, and within a few hours I had charge again, good as ever.

Barbara even has a daily reminder to go find the phone, so its whereabouts will always be known at least once a day. I love clever (and frugal) ways of adapting the world to work with my mind, instead of trying to make my mind adapt to it. . .which as we all know is a lost cause and will simply result with me wandering around the parking lot looking for my car because I was just certain I’d remember where it was. (Best adaptation I ever heard for that? Put helium balloons in the trunk and push the remote trunk opening button. Love it!)

The children went suddenly silent. This was new. However, they had been taught not to complain, so they dutifully ate what was put before them. Yet, each secretly looked forward to lunch.

At noon the children eagerly waited to see what tasty treat Mom would produce. Once again there appeared another plate of refried beans and molasses. Lunch was a rather quiet affair, except for Mom, who burbled quite happily about giving only the best to her family.

Dinner … same story.

Three days and nine meals later, Dad finally spoke up.

“Hey, hon, what’s up with the beans and molasses diet we seem to have gone on?”
“Well,” she replied excitedly, “I read this great book, Better Nutrition by Selective Feeding. I answered all the survey questions about our family, you know, and found things like how I always need something sweet around 4 p.m., and you need more fiber every three or four days, and Joey needs protein in the morning or he can’t concentrate, and how Julie feels woozy after one whiff of broccoli—and when you put them all together, the book says we’re in the Sweet-n-Bean Cuisine group.”

Stunned silence met her wide-eyed enthusiasm.

– – – –

Can you imagine a sillier idea?
Who would feed their family a steady diet of one thing, even if it were proven to be complete and efficient?
The idea might look good on paper, but this formulaic approach would certainly be a loss for their palates. Yet, some advice on learning styles would have you doing the same thing. Typically you go through a series of questions, narrowing down your child’s learning style until you have the tightest, cleanest, most efficient vehicle for delivering new information to this exacting young mind.

Even more, you get to give him a really cool name too!

“My son’s a PLOD – you know, a Pre-abstract, Localizing, Oblivious, Diagonal.”

“Wow, you must be so proud. My daughter’s a Bilateral, Retrieving, Anti-linear, Timid. You know – a BRAT!”

“Oh, how wonderful! BRATS are so easy to teach.”

The problem with much of the available material is that it seems to devote most of its pages to delighting us with new and clever things we may call our students. Then far less time is spent telling us what to do next. In other words, how do we teach to this clever new title?

What should we do when our son has reviewed long division for months and the process just does not stick? What should we do when our little girl can produce four completely different ways of spelling “bovine,” and they all look perfectly fine to her? Just how are we supposed to teach anything to the child who simply cannot sit still?

Many books seem to stall out after helping us come up with the really cool name. The advice that often follows is sometimes a bit vague. I read things like, “Keep your child focused on the lesson.” “Get them more physically involved.”

These were great ideas, to be sure, but what I did not know was how. I did not know different ways to teach the math so that it would stick, different ways to teach the spelling so that the correct way would be learned.

Therefore I put the books down and decided I had a new mission. I was now in an earnest search for teaching methods.

I collected them much like others collect matchbook covers or salt and pepper shakers.

I took methods that were fun, or odd, or unlikely – methods that would never work on me or were even out of my comfort zone to teach. I searched for and grabbed any ideas I could find. I passed no judgment on anything until I had given it a whirl.

That is when I began to discover a wonderful thing about my own previously struggling child: He could learn. He could learn well, and fast, and with enthusiasm once I found ways in which he did learn.

Along the way there were many surprises that most learning style programs would never have predicted.

I learned that my child, who most definitely is not a visual learner, was nonetheless able to work through material better when it was color-coded. Go figure.

We have learned to emphasize visual input in several ways:

I found that information about people in history was more easily learned if first I provided a face or image of the person.
Another child struggled to remember the “gh” in right or fight, so as he practiced it, he boxed in the “gh” with a bright green marker. This additional step, plus the bold reminder in green, made it easier to remember the otherwise-forgotten silent letters.

Another child, in his haste to finish math, often added when he should have subtracted. I had him start by boxing in all plus signs with a bright blue color and circling all subtraction signs with a yellow marker. This extra step helped him pause long enough to catch the symbol’s required action before he plunged ahead.

We also learned the value in “becoming the lesson.” In other words, ask: if you could magically go anywhere or do anything that would enhance today’s study, where would you go? Then just recreate the trip, using stuff around the house.
We have traveled the planets. We built the tower of Babel (till God came, scattered us through the house, and left us speaking different languages; mine was Pig Latin). We even created and traveled through a crawl-through digestive tract. That was a memorable day.

Another unexpected teaching method emerged when I one day discovered my son repeating his spelling words over and over until a natural rhythm developed. This one really surprised me, as I had been absolutely certain, at least up to that moment, that he was completely without musical ability. Thus, I had totally ignored rhythm as a learning vehicle. Yet there he was—bopping away to his own spelling words.

I tested this idea and set several things to either rhyme or to a beat. Wow! It burst open a new avenue for learning. The result was that we now have a simple daily recitations section in our schooling. We call this Ditty Time. During our homeschooling years, my children have learned the names of the presidents in order, many different rules of math, the books of the Bible, the elements of the periodic table, parts of speech, Bible verses, state capitals, the planets in order from the sun, and a gazillion dates and events from history.

Quick! Finish this sentence: “In fourteen hundred and ninety-two …” See? Ditties are powerful things.

We will not be having refried beans and molasses for dinner tonight. We should all give our families a wide variety of foods in our meals, not only for the value in nutrition, but also for the sheer pleasure of diverse flavors and culinary experiences. In the same way, we should teach with methods that bring a rich, layered, and fun experience to the student. We just need to open our minds to all the different ways there are in which material could be presented. Find the oddest, strangest, most unlikely of possible methods of teaching, and then—give it a whirl. It is in such whirls that learning takes flight.

But this evening, I’m struck by how much I adore this child. How her unique and quirky ways add so many layers of wonderful to my life. Life would be so much LESS. . .less of everything, if she’d never been in this family. And what’s more, I wouldn’t even have known what I was missing.

I love that when she has those million-and-one thoughts in her head, I’m the one she wants to share them with.

I love that when she opens her mouth, it will seem like she’s sharing something totally unrelated to the last topic, but if you ask her, she can tell you the fourteen connection points that brought her there.

I love the unique perspective that gives rise to some of the strangest and funniest of thoughts anywhere.

I love that she laughs, cries, engages, reads, and acts with such intensity; everything is 110% with her. It’s like the difference between seeing a photo of a painting with its sterile muted rendition of the original, and instead being privileged to stand in front of the real thing with all its vibrant colors, bold brush strokes and many rich hues.

And best of all, I love that she keeps me from ever becoming one of those smug, I-can-look-down-on-others kind of parents because each day she brings me challenges that force me to grow. . .once again. She keeps me humble. And right behind humble, usually follows compassion.

Tonight, as 2013 is just starting, blank and fresh with possibilities,  I find myself not exhausted, not annoyed, not looking for a new solution to a Sizzler-produced challenge, but instead, anticipating what delights and surprises the year will most certainly bring. I can’t say that I’ll always be in this amiable sort of mood, but for tonight, I’m incredibly thankful for the layers and layers of blessings brought into my life by my Sizzler. On that note, I’ve got a child to go hug.

A

B is for Blast off, words to be feared in any season, and usually followed by a frightening thud, clunk or shattering sound.  For more details, see letter I.

C is for change which should be embraced. Nothing will ever be consistent with your Sizzler, even more so during the hectic holiday season.  Constant change will be your steadfast companion for years to come. Hug it now. Make friends. Buy it candy.

D is for don’t.  Don’t call any friend who has yet to bear children if you. . . . . .are discouraged by your Sizzler’s behaviors. Instead, call the local juvenile hall delinquency center and ask them for a run down on their toughest case.  There’s a two out of three chance that their story will be worse than yours.

E is for Expectations…expectations of how your child should be, which may very well be killing your ability to enjoy how they are.  Release them…your expectations that is.  Keep the child. And start enjoying the life and energy that is already there.

F is for fishsticks…one in each hand is a balanced meal.  Sometimes just getting them fed is enough.  Frankly, I’m looking into replacing my fridge with vending machines (or for my fellow Star Trek friends–a replicator).

G is for glass ornaments, which should be put in storage until about the year 2041.  Stick with plastic, styrofoam, or felt for the first 18 years of your Sizzler’s life.  Your collection of Q-tip ornaments will be admired and cherished for future generations.

H is for Hope.  As long as they’re breathing, all good things are possible.

I is for icicles which should be policed as prudently and tenaciously as you would any dangerous projectile.  This includes knives, darts, canned food and smaller siblings.

J is for joy. Joy in this season of life that brings as many laughs as it does challenges.  Laugh whenever you can squeeze out the tiniest chuckle. It will feed your soul. It will heal your Sizzler. It de-stresses many, many situations that could become volatile.

K is for keepsake. As in a Keeper…those things presented to you by your sizzler which represent his heart.  If you don’t have one yet, start a Mommy-Love file and file away each precious offering.  This file is one of my favorite places to go when I need a pick-me-up.

L is for lubricant, as in any slippery substance useful for removing Sizzlers from situation into which they have thrust themselves, such as abandoned campground chimneys (true story), laundry chutes (true story), finger stuck in toy gun (true story) and behind drywall of new construction. (Not true, but with three good ones on my side, I thought I’d go for it.)

M is for miracles which do indeed still happen.  Sizzlers grow up.  They cease climbing on furniture.  They hold down worthwhile jobs.  And if the angels truly smile on you, one day….they thank you for all you did in getting them to adulthood.

N as in nepheligenousa word perhaps unfamiliar to you, but a concept known well by all lovers of Sizzlers.  Its meaning?  Producing clouds of smoke, as in: I saw the countless streams of candle wax on the walls and the scorch mark on the ceiling and knew in an instant that my nepheligenous Sizzler had been at work.

O is for Open Minded as in be open minded to the professionals who address the highly distractible child.  But while keeping an open mind, listen good and hard to your own gut.  Your love for this child is profound and has a compass all its own.

P is for Pestering Siblings for Profit,
Water & Electricity: A Shocking Good Time or

                               101 Uses for the Household Pet
Just a few of the many childrens’ books your Sizzler should never read.

Q is for Quibble, make that quarrel, cross swords, question, criticize.  Yes, that favorite sport of Sizzlers…arguing!  They don’t do it because they necessarily care about being right. They just love the energy of the argument.  Don’t fall for it.  Don’t take the bait. Step back. Pick fights…er, um…controversies very carefully. Very few arguments matter nearly as much as your Sizzler makes them seem.

R as in regular, typical, and customary. As in the traditional family with compliant, calm, easy going children. Sadly, these ordinary families weren’t permitted any Sizzlers. God just didn’t trust them with his most sparkling gems.

Second chances. It’s not just for Sizzlers. It’s the oxygen in a loving, long term relationship. Use it generously

Time for yourself, the caretaker of the Sizzling family, is essential.  For me that means breakfast out with a girlfriend.  Or a walk in the woods all by myself.  Put it on the calendar.  Even if that means it won’t happen until after New Year’s, put it down anyway.  Just knowing that there is a moment coming, just for you, may allow you the mental margin to be more there during the here and now.

U is for understanding…understanding the missteps and mistakes of others.  We so often wish for grace from others when our child has blurted out a poorly chosen word or dashed out of a room so fast he knocked Mrs. Cravitz to the ground. For this season, share some of that grace with someone who needs it.  You’ve been there.  You know what it’s like to have others give you a disapproving look. There’s a reason why PASS is in compassion.  Pass some along today.

Value this child.  God has plans for all this energy, this rapid thought, this out-of-the-box perspective on life.  Not only can wonderful things come of such a child, we as parents will grow in ways that are valuable to us as well.

W as in white, the color of snow.  Remember that color?  The color that your walls,  towels and the area around door knobs used to be?

X Why is X even included in these things?  Unless I can figure out a Sizzler-connection for xenophobia, I’m stumped. Okay, maybe I’ll breakdown and use the overused x-ray, only because it’s helpful in determining if your Sizzler has swallowed a lego, a key, or a gerbil.

Y as in you’re not a bad mother. You’re not a bad mother. You’re not a bad mother.
If you were, all of your children would be presenting the exact same challenges.  I met a mom several years ago who had 11 (count them…E-L-E-V-E-N) children who were all lovely, compliant, smart, articulate and obedient.  She had good reason to believe it was her parenting.  Frankly, if I’d had 11 great children, I’d be unbearable. She regularly pronounced judgment and descending condemnation over the parenting of others with those unruly, poorly disciplined children.  And God laaaaaaaughed…..and sent her just one more.  Number 12 was…you guessed it…a Sizzler with a capital ssssss. Tee hee HEE!  She tracked me down to first of all apologize to all of us in the world to whom she had been so harsh and judgmental, and second of all, to find out what to do. She didn’t have a clue.  Oooohh.  God is so good.

Z as in Zzzziss , the oft neglected prefix that starts most laundry questions posed by a Sizzler.
Zzziss cherry sauce gonna come out of my shirt?  Zzziss motor oil gonna leave a bad stain on your curtains?  Big Sigh…Zzziss child ever gonna be clean for more than an hour?

Zzzzisss the end?  Yep.
Merry Christmas.  Happy Holidays.

From your friends at Sizzle Bop!

www.SizzleBop.com