Fifteen minutes

Hmmm.

There's always something to ponder in life, isn't there?

Not necessarily the Big Questions; just silly, farty, devil's-in-the-detail sort of stuff. Logistics, finances, time, people, they all take some sorting out...

As always, the best response to such nonsense is to wear some brightly coloured bit of vintage finery, to chase the cobwebs and befuddlement away.

1970s English Lady maxi dress - flea market

Faux fur coat - vintage fair

Cardigan, hat and bangles - charity shopped

Gloves and flower - retail (sale)

1980s boots - Second to None

Scarf - gift

One of the many questions under consideration at the moment is homework. More specifically, that of the Seldom Seen Kid.

We have Learning Log Issues.

I have a well-nigh pathological dislike of parents who do their kid's homework for them.

You might know the ones; they take over as though it was their own task, and produce fabulous work on their child's behalf, to the astonishment/irritation/amusement* of onlooking teachers and slacker parents like me who prefer to let their children live or die by their own efforts. (*Delete as appropriate, or feel free to add your own reaction.)

 As my children have moved through school, I have consistently struggled with deciding where the boundary lies between offering them support and encouragement, and taking over so that the work is no longer their own.

We had decided on a Back Right Off policy for Seldom Seen. He's 10, he knows what is expected of him, and I thought he could manage to take some responsibility for his own learning.

It appears I was wrong, and this approach has failed, rather spectacularly.

So in an alarming volte face which has me stifling my resentment ("It's not my homework. I DID my homework") and gritting my teeth, we are now trying to approach Learning Logs as a team effort. I can't deny that spending more time with both SSK and Littlest (Eldest is thankfully independent and self-starting) is improving the quality of their work. And I am hoping that the ability to plan and edit and summarise will eventually rub off on them... 

But at the moment, I feel I am in the driving seat, when I really want be reclining in the back and looking out of the window. 

Still, Seldom Seen has been quite engaged with recent explorations of both Cubism and pop art.

Here's his homage to Andy Warhol, courtesy of PicMonkey.

We  talked about the Factory, we listened to the Velvet Underground and looked at the cover of the Warhol "banana" album, we read about Valerie Solanas and Edie Sedgewick, and he asked me to define hangers-on and drag queens. We discussed whether a bottle of Coke or a tin of soup is a good subject for art, and whether a cartoon-y image of Marilyn Monroe is as beautiful as Botticelli's Venus or the Mona Lisa. We admired the remarkable prescience of his observation that In the future, everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes, in this age of reality TV and the internet.

Sure, I was asking the questions, but he was doing some thinking, and he was interested and engaged, and that's when learning happens. Not when you're bored and under pressure and lonely and anxious. 

I'm learning right along with him, and not just about art.

I'm not always very good at admitting when I'm wrong.

But I have underestimated what my son needs from me at the moment, and I need to make it right.

And now he rather likes the Velvet Underground, which is a bonus.

 A teacher at school, with whom I get on very well, recently described me as intractable, and I recognise the accuracy of the description. But I am trying to be less so. Intractability when you've clearly screwed up is just plain old pigheadedness, right?

 xxxx

Don't f***ing swear

Ahhhh, that's better!

Going to my hairdresser's is such a joy - we chat, we laugh, I drink coffee and read ridiculous magazines, and she works her magic until I emerge, newly vibrant and sleek and feeling a million times better. 

I look rather ladylike in this ensemble. 

Which is totally misleading, since I am not very ladylike at all, as most who know me will attest. 

In particular, my language is not that of a Lady.

I swear. Rather a lot. It satisfies a need for emphasis, for drama, for humour; sometimes, only cursing like a navvy will do.

I know when not to swear, of course, and am perfectly capable of reining it in on occasions when it is not appropriate. But we have a fairly relaxed attitude to "bad language" in our house, including in front of the kids. They've have heard it all already from kids at school, and as long as they follow the golden rules (not at school and not in front of Grandma), we're pretty laissez faire.

After school, I usually ask the kids what sort of a day they have had; was it delicious Chinese; nice-enough pizza; or terrible mushroom? Yesterday, Seldom Seen looked rather downhearted, and replied it's been a terrible mushroom day. On further investigation, it transpired that he had been shown a red card. 

 

For swearing. 

 

Oh fuck.

 

It appears that Child R had been picking on one of SS' buddies, so SS told him to stop it, and called the kid an arsehole. Child R promptly went and told a dinner lady. The dinner lady issued SS with a red card for swearing. No contextual information was sought or given. Child R went away smirking, SS came home crestfallen.

 

Now I know he shouldn't have sworn at another kid at school. He broke our golden rule, and calling Child R a rude name was wrong. But the motivation, the urge to stand up for his friend, and name and shame Child R's bad behaviour was right. What he should have done, of course, was alert the dinner lady to what was happening, and let her deal with Child R's behaviour, in which case it would probably be Child R with a red card, not SS. 

But we live and learn. And Child R is indeed an arsehole.

 

 

 

 

1970s crochet dress, suede waistcoat and bangles - charity shopped

Boots - Ebay

1960s Tissavel cape-style jacket - gift

1950s scarf - flea market

Shiny red bob - courtesy of lovely Kirsty at Hair @ St Paul's

 

I always find parenting issues the most fascinating - and the most challenging - when they centre around helping kids to navigate the choppy waters of human relationships and communication. 

 

I could see immediately that there was a better strategy for Seldom Seen to employ; all he could see, at the time, was his friend in trouble, and another child behaving unkindly. He was cross, and he swore. I do that - all the time. And no one gives me a red card for it. 

 

We expect a lot from kids sometimes; we expect them to have a control, a sophistication, an ability to strategise, to step back and predict future consequences, which many adults do not possess. 

 

 

 

 

And sometimes, you just want to say arseholes!

I'm working tomorrow, and no doubt I will be swearing (in my head) throughout the day.

Hope you have a great weekend, whether it is accompanied by profanity or not!

xxxxx

Armful of moss

Boys.

Funny creatures, aren't they?

Seldom Seen and his friends seemed to enjoy the birthday sleepover, with its zombie movie, snacks, XBox games, and a ridiculously late night.

They all chose to sleep together in the living room, lined up on the rug like sardines in a tin, with a motley collection of pillows and cushions, sleep mats, quilts and sleeping bags. I can't believe they were comfortable, but I left them to it.

A Stern Voice was eventually required to get them to settle down and go to sleep. I do a good Stern Voice.

I seem to be gearing up for activity.

I've been planning our school's Christmas fair again, sorting the posters, put a notice on our local online forum, sussed out an ad for the events column of the local paper, been to buy the gifts for Santa's grotto, and set dates for more shopping, cooking, and gift wrapping. I won't be able to help on the day this year as I will be working, so I feel I should do as much as possible beforehand. 

And I start work at Debenhams next Monday.

Phew.

1960-70s Tricosa herringbone/lurex maxi skirt - antiques centre in Matlock

1970s suede jacket - street market, years ago

Orange top - jumble sale

Cardigan, 1960s vinyl/tapestry bag and bangles - charity shopped

Boots - Ebay

Necklace - gift from Gisela

The weather is distinctly autumnal, and so am I today.

I love how my garden goddess appears to be carrying an armful of moss.

I feel the same way. But I am trying to view the various tasks and responsibilities on the horizon as opportunities rather than burdens.

It's only moss might be my mantra over the coming weeks...

On Saturday evening, we all went out for a Chinese meal to celebrate Seldom Seen's birthday;

Dim Sum for the Dim Son.

The food was delicious.

Littlest tried her hardest with chopsticks.

I blame Miley Cyrus for the tongues.

So that's me.

I feel a bit.. oh I don't know - on the cusp. 

Of something new. 

And it's a good feeling, albeit a slightly daunting one. I'm going to be busy, and I am essentially a lazy arse, so we will have to see how that plays out.

Thank you so much for all your good wishes and encouragement - I really appreciate your support.

xxxxxx