Day 51

[Note: Our school district's first official day of Don't Enter the Building was Thursday, March 5th, which became Day 1 on my calendar.  Wired puts it at March 11th, but that magazine probably doesn't have kids in my neighborhood school.]

This week, my experimental parenting of "I'll support you in whatever ways you ask for, but your teachers are giving you to-dos, and I'm trusting that you will DO them" philosophy went to shit.  Yes, shit.  So today started with me throwing Piper in the shower, taking away her jammies, setting her up at her desk and not in her bed, for period 5, the first class on Fridays.  Then, making sure she was actually Zooming at 9am, I got to see her face when she realized that she hadn't even thought about the project assigned a week ago that was due today.  That was probably less drastic than my face when I saw she hadn't done ANY of the assignments since approximately Day....2.   I've been forcing her to keep up with math and English and assumed the others she could manage.  I don't like to be the literal motherboard that all brains under this roof must plug into, but the consequences in which Piper will supposedly learn her lesson probably won't be obvious for several years, and the bad habits will really be ingrained by then.  What Piper learned is there is no lockdown like a Mama lockdown.



Kyla's not doing great either.  She focused on a really cool science project and a lot of books and gardening last week and went from being ahead in math to behind.  Really behind.  You know who you can gain 10 pounds in one [ahem, really amazing!] weekend, but need at least a month to lose it?  While, keeping up with classes is just like that. This is the online algebra course done outside the school so we could, you know, travel around the world, and she could start geometry next fall.  Ironically, she will probably be the most prepared math student next year returning to class...if she catches up.  

Guess what?  This Saturday isn't a weekend for the girls.  


Oddly, the day turned out surprisingly well.  For speech, Wes and I played a new board game.  I think the point is to say "red", "green", and "orange" a lot, but I'd rather just play (by "play", I mean "win") the game rather than have another conversation with the kid I'm around all day.  But somewhere, I got the giggles.  So when Wes somehow simultaneously tripped over the coffee table, the couch, the pillow, and his own container of pistachios "accidentally" covered in honey, I laughed.  And when he started doing his death scream over his scratched ankle, well, dear reader, I howled. I held him after I grabbed an icepack so that I could continue silent hysterics behind his back.  The girls quickly caught it too, and when I eventually pulled myself together, I found him in his room, feelings and ankle hurt, but not irrevocably. 


Piper, in lockdown on her pre-tech assignments, had finished the one due today and started working the Rube Goldberg assignment, where she made a tea-making machine for me.  It was actually great fun and led to a few rabbit trails.  First of all, we watched a few youtube videos on remarkable Rube Goldberg machines--this one most impressed me, and even more so hours later, when Piper completed her 5-step machine.

Here's what we're calling Take 10:

But, while we were watching a few amazing Goldberg Machines on youtube, it became lunchtime and Mama Hour, a time set aside where all 3 kids get the special wisdom across many disciplines that only such an amazing Mama can impart.  Today, we searched "coronavirus song parodies" and split our pants, busted our guts, and generally interrupted the meetings Dwayne was having on the other side of the house, laughing uproariously and we learned that, indeed, laughter is the best medicine.  We particularly liked this, that (and another one by him) and anything by this family--though this one by them pretty much made me wet my pants. Then all the kids, instead of being done by 2pm, "volunteered" to get more school work done, then we watched those same videos again, went on a "voluntary" family walk, getting home later than we should have to make dinner.  

I want to get the hang of this StayHome eventually, but I think I have to face the facts--it's not the quarantine.  It's me.  The good stuff and the "doh!" moments.  And I'm content (regardless of the soiled underwear).