Recap 10: The Recap Challenge

We've come to the end of another blogging challenge, and I have to say that I really enjoyed this one. Basically this challenge got me to blog about mundane aspects of my day--just like I used to!

But here I am on the last day of the challenge with nothing to recap. I hoped and hoped that something interesting would happen today. It was, however, fairly run-of-the-mill.

I got up in the early hours to write. Played, read books, and built forts with Sam this morning. Took a trip to Target for some cabin items we'll need over the weekend. Did more writing in the afternoon. Had some family time in the evening. And returned to the computer for more writing once Sam was down.

So. There you have it. A recap of my days as a dissertator. It's coming to an end, soon, though. Very. Very. Soon.

Recap 9: Nap Routine

I've been working from home for the last week during Sam's nanny-time. Heather, the nanny, is great. Sam loves her and her suitcase of toys so much that he doesn't care that I'm in the next room.

During this time, I have been fortunate to overhear their nap-time routine. It's very sweet and makes me happy.

First, they race up the stairs. Heather does a play-by-play of the competition as it's happening. "Sam is ahead by a nose!" Sam giggles with delight and wins every time.

During the diaper change, Heather sings. I don't know the songs, but Sam does. His favorite seems to be one about pie.

They read three books each time, and it takes only five seconds to pick them out. Every character has a different, glorious voice, and I stop what I'm doing to follow along.

I love the next part.

Heather does this sing-song voice that announces, "And now it's time to say goodnight!" Kind of like Ryan Seacrest. Very dramatic and suspenseful. Then she says quickly, "But first, kisses from all of your friends!" And twenty stuffed animals kiss Sam on the nose. Or so I picture it.

The routine ends with criss-cross applesauce.

The whole thing takes only ten minutes, and Sam doesn't try to ask for water thirty times before falling asleep. It's a miracle to behold.

Recap 8: Emotion Coaching

Yesterday's topic at EFCE was emotion coaching. According to our brilliant leader, Lani, this is where the real stuff of parenting happens. It's what we signed up for, and it's crazy hard.

Here are the five steps of emotion coaching (based on the work of John Gottman):

1. Awareness. We must be aware that our own emotions are separate from our child's. Often we assume that our child must feel what we would feel (or are feeling) in a particular situation, and that's simply not true.

2. Opportunity. Emotional expressions are opportunities for intimacy and learning. It's hard to look at tantrums and meltdowns this way, but we learn our most important lessons (about love, about life) in disequilibrium.

3. Listen and Validate. Telling your child that there's no reason to be upset only means he'll have to try harder to convince you that there is a reason. The feeling is real even if the reason is not. Sam often comes running from the other room saying, "Bear! Bear!" There's no bear. But he is afraid.

4. Label the emotion. Give it a name. Use simple terms.

5. Deal with the situation and set limits. This step is hard. It often requires that we say no. It also requires that we, as Lani says, "stay on the shore" while our children drown a bit in the emotion. We can't join them out there. We are the parents, after all.

As it turns out, I had the opportunity to practice these steps a number of times last night.

Sam wanted to stand on top of a tall stool we have in our kitchen, for example, and when I told him I couldn't let him do that, he lost it. I recognized that he felt pretty frustrated and seized the opportunity to validate his emotions.

"You feel mad," I said. "But I can't let you stand on anything that tall. You might fall." He cried for a while and refused a shorter stool to stand on.

"It's hard," I said. "But it's for the best." He cried more. And more. I hugged him.

"Do you want to read a book?" I asked after a while.

"Yeah," he said. I wiped his tears. We read.

And then we went through the steps again twenty minutes later when it was time to stop reading and eat dinner.

Recap 7: Another Weekend

We had grand plans. Friday we were to have dinner with much beloved friends. They asked us out last minute, and thanks to the kindness of Dave's brother and his wife, we secured care for Sam. Then, come to find out, Dave somehow missed that the invitation was actually for March 8 and not Friday. And so. We stayed home.

Saturday we were to celebrate the February birthday's in Dave's family with a reservation for eight at a local restaurant. One of those family members was Sam's Papa, and Sam had been gleefully saying "Papa" all day (which he does any time there's reason to think about, talk about, or see Papa). Then, come to find out, Papa had a stomach bug and had been throwing up for twelve hours. The reservation was cancelled. Dinner plans thwarted again.

We did manage to enjoy ourselves here and there.

Sam and Dave attended Sam's last swimming lesson for the season, and our little Fin Buddy came home with a certificate and a checkmark in the "Good Work" column in all areas except for submerging his face. Something to work on.

Later we took a trip to Ikea in search of the perfect, cheap step stool for Sam. What a terrible idea this was. Ikea is somewhat unbearable even when you are in search of a large and necessary furniture item. For a step stool, there's no point in going. Especially when you can't find the step stool. We did find a handful of other items we never knew we needed (e.g. chip clips, a watering can, spatulas for the play kitchen, and two matching funnels), and Sam thought it was the greatest place on earth. So. Not a total loss.

Sunday involved some project time. Dave and Sam took the old handles off the built-in drawers in our bedroom. Sam may or may not have been in charge of the drill. I tell myself that Dave would never allow him to use the power tools, but I can't be sure. In the end, they couldn't attach the new handles because, come to find out, the drawers need painting. Opening the drawers now requires hitting them with a fist Fonzi-style so that they pop out just enough to get a finger in and pull. Let's face it, it could be like this for months.

I spent part of Sunday at yoga. Third class this week. Totally worth the time. Namaste.

Recap 6: The Lit Review

Writing a lit review is sort of like writing an entry for this recap blogging challenge. First I have to recap sociocultural theories of literacy and then tie that, somehow, into a recap of studies on critical media literacy with urban youth and then tie that, somehow, into a recap of how marginalized people use humor and laughter to mediate experiences of oppression. No problem.

So far I've written this paragraph to frame the chapter:

This chapter discusses the sociocultural views of literacy and identity that ground this study. Interested in the moment-to-moment interactions that produce identities in classrooms, particularly around race, I focus on the work of scholars who have theorized identity as a socially and linguistically mediated construct (Bakhtin, 1981; Gee, 2005; Holland, Lachicotte, Skinner, & Cain, 1998; Norris, 2011; Scollon, 2001; Wertsch, 1991), ever constrained and shaped within structures of power. I draw as well from the theory of mediated discourse (although I save much of that discussion for the next chapter) and highlight, scholars who focus on the actions and practices of individuals in the formation and solidification of identities. Next, I turn to studies of critical literacy practices in and out of school that reconceive critical literacy and critical media literacy to include embodied forms of response not often recognized in classrooms. The chapter ends with a review of scholarship on laughter and humor where I make the argument that laughter, too, is a form of critical response related to the identities of youth who have been traditionally marginalized.

It's a start.

Also, I've written 20 pages on sociocultural theories of literacy already. Only they aren't that good. I wrote them three years ago when I did my prelims. THREE YEARS AGO! Maybe this means I'm a better writer now? #Silverlining. 

I wonder, is this a recap? 

Recap 5: A Long Day's Journey

We saw Eugene O'Neill's masterwork, A Long Day's Journey Into Night, at the Guthrie last evening. There are four very sad characters in this play. Mary is addicted to morphine while her husband, James, and their two sons, Jamie and Edmund, are addicted to alcohol. The play chronicles Mary's downward spiral into her addiction once again while the three male characters employ whiskey to "cope" with the reality--and history--of their lives. The whole play is wrapped in symbolism and the dialogue is both poetic and heartbreaking.

As an English teacher, I should have loved it. I did not.

It felt like one long argument with an obvious and traumatic trajectory. While I appreciated the play's fine literary elements and the supreme acting skills of the cast, I just kept waiting (and waiting and waiting) for it to be over. A more apt title for a drama (and the experience of viewing it) has never been given.

Recap 4: The Peanut Challenge

Dave is allergic to peanuts and fish. This increases Sam's chance of having some allergy, although not necessarily to the same things. The research on how kids develop allergies is mixed. Some people believe kids should be exposed earlier than later to certain foods while others believe those foods should be withheld. We don't have peanuts or fish in our house, so Sam had neither until yesterday.

At his two-year well-baby visit, our pediatrician recommended Sam get tested for food allergies. That sounded preferable to anaphylaxis in the middle of our regular routine so we made the appointment. The allergy doc, however, informed us that testing before a reaction is actually "controversial" because of the possibility of false positives. But since we were there for the appointment, he went ahead. Sam's skin test showed a reaction to peanuts and cats.

Due to the issue of false positives, the follow-up protocol to a skin reaction is "The Peanut Challenge." (In case you are wondering, there is no such thing as a "Cat Challenge.") We had ours yesterday. It went like this.

Dose 1: Sam takes this one rather easily. We had been talking up peanut butter for days and told him he couldn't have this special treat until his appointment. He is disappointed that the doc won't let him have it on the Ritz cracker as promised but offers a tongue depressor instead. Once the peanut butter is in Sam's mouth, he is like, What the hell is this stuff and why would you make me eat it? I coax him to swallow and we begin the wait for a reaction. Nothing happens.

Dose 2: Fifteen minutes later. The peanut butter on the depressor is double the amount in Dose 1. Sam is not having it. He turns away and seals his lips. We wrestle. I sit him on my lap. He smears the peanut butter on my pants. I am covered in it and understand why they call this a challenge. The doctor promises Sam a sticker. Sam reluctantly opens his mouth and I shove in the brown goo. Sam lets it hang there on his teeth. I keep telling him to chew. He looks at me confused. Finally he swallows. Nothing happens. Sam has a sticker.

Dose 3: I prep Sam for fifteen minutes between doses. This is what will happen, I say. The doctor will give you the peanut butter and you will eat it. You will get another sticker. Sam says, yeah. When the doctor gives him another doubled dose, Sam refuses. He cries. He wrestles away. He is hot and red. I tell him Greysen loves peanut butter and would be so proud if Sam ate it. Sam pauses. He opens his mouth. Takes the peanut butter. Swallows. Nothing happens. Sam has two stickers.

Dose 4: Between doses nurse Julie checks Sam's blood pressure, his pulse, his skin. All is well. They draw pictures on the examining table paper. We chat. The doctor comes in. The dosage now stays the same. It's a full teaspoon of peanut butter. I offer the depressor. Sam seals his lips. The doctor steps out and returns with a Superman sticker. You will not get this until you eat the peanut butter, he says. He has grown impatient. It works. This is not how I want to parent, I think. But whatever. Nothing happens. Sam has three stickers.

Dose 5: We wait a long time for the doctor to arrive. Julie lets Sam listen to his heart beat. I listen too. It's cool. Julie shows Sam how to take his blood pressure. They are friends now. Julie has four boys of her own. That's a lot, I think. We've been here for two hours now. The doc finally arrives. I tell Sam we can go home soon if he eats this one quickly. He does. Relatively. Julie does a dance with him. Nothing happens. Sam has four stickers.

Dose 6: We are ready to go home. The wait is longer than fifteen minutes but not quite as long as before. Sam eats plain Ritz crackers. We read books. The doc comes in. Would you like one more sticker, Sam? he asks. Sam says, two. Hell yeah, I think. You've earned two. The doctor agrees. Sam eats the final dose. He has six stickers. Sam must be observed for another hour before we can leave. Sam and I both have cabin fever. He is silly. I am exhausted. Hey! he yells. Go! he shouts at the door. We read an animal book. He tells me the pig is a cow. The dog says meow. We laugh. Julie smiles.

An hour slowly goes by. Sam does not react. He passes The Peanut Challenge! We paste his stickers to the back of a form letter about sinus infections and take a picture. Julie doesn't want to be in it. We get in the car and drive home. I ask Sam if he'd like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. He says, no.

Recap 3: The Weekend

I'm up early to write. Despite good intentions of writing a page here and there over the weekend, it did not happen. Other things did happen, though. Allow me to recap.

Friday night we hosted book club here. Sam enjoyed demonstrating all of his instruments for the gang. They were, of course, a gracious audience and Sam would have played all night if we had let him. Dave dragged Sam off to bed (kindly) where he cried and cried for his mama. I went up there two or three times to try to get him to go to sleep. It happened eventually, but it was stressful trying to quiet the child and engage in the discussion. Other people covered the finer points of the book and all was well.

On Saturday, we were off early to swimming lessons as usual. Dave and Sam participate and are called Fin Buddies. I sit on the side and read a book or take pictures. On this day, I read the introduction and first chapter of The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois. I've read parts of this book before and quite love it. I might recap part of it later, so please, look forward.

Later in the day we visited Target Optical and picked out a fresh new pair of spectacles for me. They are a bit plain jane, but I do hate to stand out. And after that, we attempted to find a spot for dinner without too much wait but that failed. We got some curried chicken salad at a grocery deli counter. I asked for too much of it (I'm spatially challenged) and had to go back to return half. We ate at home.

On Sunday, we baked banana bread. Sam has become skilled at sifting. He would also like to be in charge of eggs, but we're holding on that one. Later, I went to yoga. It has been at least six months since I've attended a class, and I think it saved my life. I went overboard and purchased a months' worth of unlimited classes.

Later we took Sam and the sled over to our local sledding hill. I was nervous about this and considered bringing his bike helmet. We found a spot on the back side of the hill with some deeper snow and the ride was both thrilling and cautious. Sam smiled and laughed nonstop. His face covered in snot.

Recap 2: The Problem with Praise

Today's ECFE lesson taught me that I am slowly killing my child's self-esteem with an overabundance of empty praise. So. That's a bummer. But the research was quite compelling. Here's an example. In one study, two groups of kids were given the same task. Upon completion of that task, kids in one group were told, "You did well. You must be smart." The kids in the other group were told, "You did well. You must have worked hard." Then kids in both groups were given a more challenging task. The kids in the first group gave up almost immediately while the kids in the second group, whose effort had been noted, kept trying despite the impossibility of the task.

The moral of this study is that I say "good job" to Sam far more often than necessary. And the necessary number, it turns out, is zero. In fact, nine out of ten times when I tell him "good job" (for cleaning up a mess or eating his vegetables) a simple "thank you" will do. And those other times when I want to praise his stack of blocks or the drawing of a "car" that doesn't look like a car, I should praise his effort, describe my reaction, or say nothing at all.

I made a commitment today, right in the middle of class, to remove "good job" from my language. And within thirty minutes, I caught myself telling Sam "good job" for wiping his feet on the rug.

I am a parenting work in progress. I just hope it's not too late to turn his life around.

Recap 1: It's Not Witty

I'm attempting a quick recap of the day because I am, after all, taking part in this challenge. There was so much to accomplish today that I made a Sunday to-do list. Generally, I'm against making those kinds of lists on a Sunday, but it had to be done.

First. The laundry. Is it weird that I rather like doing the laundry? Probably. It's just one of those things where progress is visible and tangible. It's probably even more weird that I added it to my list. But I did.

Second. Groceries. I flipped through the cooking magazines and came up with five entrees. One for each day of the week. Jotted those ingredients on the paper. There was a bit of a snag trying to figure out who would tend the child while I ran to the store and Dave embarked on his planning for an epic course he's teaching this week, but then we remembered the grandparents. Dropped Sam off over there and we were on our way. Dave joined me at the store and we knocked down the list in 30 minutes. I forgot my rewards card, and that was annoying, but otherwise it was a successful trip. We will eat this week.

Third. Return an overdue book. I've been charged a dollar for each day this book is overdue. That makes $4.00.

Fourth. Shovel. This one wasn't on the list, but I did it anyway. The snow was heavy, and I broke a sweat. I counted it as exercise.

Fifth. Complete revisions to an article due today. This one took some time. I just finished it now. I can't tell if I've done enough. It will have to do.