Every Night (They Belong to You)

When my older son Harlan was in pre-school, I walked in one day and his teacher said, “Ummmm … Dawn … do you listen to Guns N’ Roses with the boys?” I immediately pictured Harlan rattling off inappropriate lyrics to other kids and I was getting ready to profusely apologize and promise to stick with Kidz Bop.

But, she went on to tell me that, when song time rolled around she asked the kids what they should sing and Harlan said, “How about a little G&R?”

Well, I sing to my boys most nights and we have a variety of songs. I say to them each night, “What song do you want? Rainbow #1 (Somewhere Over the Rainbow), Rainbow #2 (Rainbow Connection), Horsey Song (Run For the Roses), Sad-n-Sweet Song (Imagine) or a little G&R (Sweet Child o’ Mine)?”

So, that is where Harlan got that. I know that they say it is important to read with your kids every night and I full-heartedly believe that. But I also think you should sing with them, and so does the dad in this adorable video. Enjoy!

For Mom, Home Field Advantage Adds Up

In case you haven’t heard, today kicks off the NFL season. Sweet! Some wives – and women in general – dread this time of year. I am not one of them. I have a fantasy football team, I participate in a “pick-a-winner” league (pick one winner every week, can’t pick the same team twice, if you lose, you’re out) and another pool where you pick every game, then rank them by your confidence in your pick (oh, all are for entertainment purposes only).

Photo JDanvers, Flickr Creative Commons

I might have a problem.

But I digress.

I am here to tell you that, if you are a football widow, don’t hate on the game, huddle up with your kids (football analogy #1) and turn it into a math lesson. True story – when my son Taylor was four and in pre-school, his class was doing a math exercise. His teacher said something along the lines of, “and how do we get to 12?”

It was quiet for a minute and Taylor piped up with, “Touchdown, extra point, field goal, safety.”

No, I am not kidding. That is how our boys learned math at home. If you ask them to tell you what 9x3 is, they will think about it for a minute, then give you the answer. If you ask them what 7x3 is, they will immediately shout 21! They have known multiples of 7 since they were three years old.

But it’s not just points scored that you have to work with. Here’s an example: It is 3rd down and 7 and the offense gets called for false start. How many yards does the team need for a 1st down now? A quick 7 plus a five-yard penalty gets you the answer – 12 yards. See, not only are they learning math, but their memory is tested because they have to remember how many yards are assessed for a false start penalty.

If you really want to challenge them, ask them about a holding call. They will have to go deep (football analogy #2) because if the defense is called for holding, it is a five-yard penalty; if the offense is called, it is ten yards unless they are in the end zone, and then it is an automatic safety, which is two points -- now you're getting into the really hard math!

You can also make discipline a little more fun by using football terms. My boys are guilty – probably at least five times a day – of delay of game (usually when getting ready for school or getting ready for bed), encroachment, unsportsmanlike conduct, horse-collaring, illegal hands to the face, roughing the passer (and kicker and snapper, etc.), illegal motion, blocking in the back, and – most definitely – personal foul. To make time-out really fun, get a yellow flag and throw it. They might take the news a little better.

So, happy football season to everyone and, in case you haven’t listened to the incessant press coverage over the last couple of days, the Broncos play tonight. Not only do they play, they play the defending Super Bowl champion Baltimore Ravens, the team that knocked the Broncos out of the play-offs last year. It’s kind of a big deal, so embrace the pig skin (football analogy #3), cheer and teach! Go Broncos!

On The Road!

Every time I travel to a small town in Colorado, I call my husband, Jim, and tell him that I want to move there. My mother grew up in a tiny farm town in Illinois. I grew up in two relatively small towns in Wyoming. I like small towns -- the slow pace, the nice people, the feeling of community. And all three were evident when College In Colorado traveled to Fowler, Colorado for our Counseling Office Makeover. We shopped in the local hardware store, ate in the local cafe and walked around the local park. And, true to form, I called Jim and said I wanted to live in Fowler.

Now, after living in Washington, DC and Denver for the past 20 years, the first time I wanted to get a half-caff, skinny French-vanilla no foam latte at 10 p.m. while I am grocery shopping and doing some banking, I would likely be lured back to the big city. But, I want to thank the people of Fowler for allowing me to feel a part of their community for a couple of days.

Of course, we made a video of our adventure ... enjoy!

Back to Sch-ewwww-l

As a mom, the beginning of the new school year brings out a lot of emotions: anticipation about who my boys’ new teachers will be; judgment about the new friends they might make (admit it, you do it); excitement that school starting means football season; and resignation that my baby boys are growing up too quickly. But there is another resounding emotion that the beginning of school elicits from me – dread. Consuming dread and anxiety about the little germ factories that the boys become after a week into the new school year.

 

Photo: Dimitry Rabkin, Flickr creative commons

Maybe one’s immune system instantly gets weaker after turning 40. Or, maybe someone was listening a couple of years ago when Taylor was projectile vomiting whilst crying, and simultaneously, nastiness was coming out of Harlan’s … south end zone … when I yelled, “Let me be the sick one. Give it all to me and spare my precious children!” Either way, since then I catch every stupid bug that my little Petri dishes bring home.

And this is not a theory. Harvard researchers matched hacking adults' visits to Boston-area emergency rooms with Census data for 55 ZIP codes. Flu-like symptoms struck first and worst in the ZIP codes that were home to the most kids. I live in Denver's Stapleton neighborhood, where we average about 10 kids for every house. We are like the mother ship for urgent care facilities and drug companies.

But really, common sense tells us that, if we take precautions, we can reduce the number of times that we, and those in our families, get sick. Of course, I don’t believe that for a minute. I am still convinced that I will get everything that goes around due to my deal with some higher power to spare my children. The sacrifices we mothers make. Nonetheless, I want to pass along some tips anyhow.

There are plenty of ways to pick up a bug, but there is also information online about how to protect your family (and yourself). The Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment has some helpful information about immunizations, and some illness prevention guidelines for schools and daycare centers. And the federal government has lots good  information about the flu.

So, happy back to school to you! May you have a year free of Kleenex stock-boosting nose blows and purple Dimetapp barf.

Slow Down, Read This ...

Every so often I read something that, as a parent, just slaps me in the face. The following article did just that. 

If I had a dollar for every time I say, “hurry up” to my boys, their college savings plans would be flush with cash! But I will say that I do now, try and take the time to stop and smell the flowers with my boys. Or, being that they are boys, stop and play with the ants or do armpit farts or climb on and jump off of everything they see. I hope you enjoy this piece as much as I did.

The Day I Stopped Saying ‘Hurry Up’

By Rachel Macy Stafford, on her blog, Hands Free Mama.

When you’re living a distracted life, every minute must be accounted for. You feel like you must be checking something off the list, staring at a screen, or rushing off to the next destination. And no matter how many ways you divide your time and attention, no matter how many duties you try and multi-task, there’s never enough time in a day to ever catch up. 

That was my life for two frantic years. My thoughts and actions were controlled by electronic notifications, ring tones, and jam-packed agendas. And although every fiber of my inner drill sergeant wanted to be on time to every activity on my overcommitted schedule, I wasn’t.

Be sure to read the rest of her post here. 

Don't Hate on the Name

Admit it. When you heard that Kayne and Kim named their daughter North you thought, “North. Kind of cute.” Then you thought, “North West. Really?!”

I did, and I have vowed to NEVER question people’s baby names. Ever. Why, you ask? Let me tell you.

I have two boys named Harlan (Did you say Harley, like Davidson? Is it Harland, like rhymes with Garland) and Taylor (That’s a girl’s name.) I also have a nephew named Jhett, one named Jace, one named Byson and one named Slade. I also have two other nephews and a niece whose names are a little more mainstream – Aidan, Brady and Ava. They can all read so I wanted to mention them too because I also adore them and I don’t want them feel left out! 

My point is, I happen to love these off-the-beaten-path names, and love those five boys to death, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that each named spurred a spirited conversation … or 50.

One such conversation almost ended in bloodshed. (Tip – don’t say something insensitive to a woman who is seven months pregnant on Thanksgiving when you’ve had two martinis and she hasn’t eaten.)

The lesson my extended family learned from all of these conversations – especially from the Thanksgiving Day near-massacre – is first, keep your freaking mouth shut. And second, a name is just a name. Kids define themselves in a million other ways. True, their name may be fodder for some teasing, but that will happen no matter what your name is. I would give you a great example from my husband – very innocuously named Jim Owens – but it was teenage boys who made up the name, so probably not appropriate for this venue.

So, name your kid Bob or name your kid Seven – he or she will be remembered more by what they do than by what they answer to!