Farting My ABCs: Chapter 2
I have some great news about FARTING MY ABCs… but I can’t tell anyone about it yet.
Anyway, here’s Chapter 2!
In other news, TJ is now up to twenty backyard baskets.
Today Louisette is wearing tiara, two tutus, and her dressing gown.
I’m feeling… okay. Four day weekend!!!!
Art of the day: Another middle grade series by a wonderful Aussie author (wonderful at heart as well as talent; I have met both Sandy Fussell and Pamela Freeman and they’re everything you hope a famous author could be): Princess Betony by Pamela Freeman (who also writes historical fiction as Pamela Hart).
Farting My ABCs: Chapter 1
A long, long time ago (before I had kids!) I wrote a 7000-word story called Farting My ABCs. It is fifteen chapters long, and I’ll release one chapter a day to help carry bored kids all the way through the school holidays.
Warning: This may cause your five year-old to make more fart jokes than ever. Also most kids older than five will find it terribly immature (Louisette certainly did).
A lot of authors (and readers) have been reading books aloud lately, and I decided to do one better. Instead of merely reading this book, I read it to my kids. Instead of filming me, I filmed them. I also selected a variety of real backgrounds (mostly outside) to help all of us remember what trees look like. Zipper showed up some of the time too.
But you’re here for the first Farting My ABCs video, right?
For those who want text, here’s Chapter 1 (or email fellissimo@hotmail.com to get all of it at once):
Spoiler space…
CHAPTER ONE: The Boy Who Talks With His Bum
Oh no. Please, no.
Please tell me the teacher’s not going to make me stand up and introduce myself to everyone. I’ve already done it in maths, history, and science.
So here I am in English, and I can feel my gut bubbling. It’s been bubbling all day. Today is my first day at this school – of course I’m nervous. But right now I think my bum is going to explode. Pow! Just like that.
I wish I could open the lid of my desk and crawl inside.
My feet drag me to the whiteboard (my belly gurgles).
The school year started only two weeks ago, and I can still see the teacher’s name – Mrs White – half rubbed out underneath today’s work. I bet no-one else had to stand up in front of everyone like I’m doing. They all know each other, and I don’t.
“Tell us a bit about yourself,” says Mrs White.
I face the class (my belly groans). A girl is giggling from the back row. I still can’t think of anything to say.
One boy is rolling spitballs. I heard someone call him Jack, so I guess that means I’ve learnt something today: the name of the most annoying kid in school. No matter how many times Dad makes me change schools, there’s always one person who hates me right away. I don’t know why. Maybe my big nose just makes people angry. Or my red hair. Or my freckles. Maybe my freckles spell out a rude word. I don’t know.
By now I should be used to this talking thing (my belly grunts and grumbles). But I’m not. In fact, every class is worse than the one before.
“My name is Fred,” I say.
Jack says, “Drop dead, Fred.”
I wish I could (my belly howls and growls).
“Tell us something you’re good at,” says Mrs White.
There’s really only one thing – one amazing thing – that I can do. Whether I want to or not.
After this whole long day, I can’t hold it in any longer. So I stare right at Jack’s cold green eyes – and fart.
I fart the alphabet. I fart my last three addresses. I fart my name and the fact that I have a dog the size of a horse. (Probably should have said that in one of the classes today. Everyone likes dogs.) I fart like a brass band.
The girls laugh. The boys clap. Jack swallows his spitball. Mrs White opens and closes her mouth. She turns purple.
My gut is more amazing than it’s ever been before. (It’s actually very difficult to fart the alphabet – even if it really sounds a bit like, “Arg! Blurk! Sss!” instead of, “A, B, C.”)
Finally Mrs White gets a breath. A big one. She screams: “Principal’s office! Now!”
I run out the door and down the hall with my red hair falling into my eyes and blinding me. With every step, I fart.
Pfft, pfft, pfft.
The Virus Diaries: School/Depression How-To Guide
I’m transitioning now to the massive piles of schoolwork that Louisette and TJ’s extremely hard-working teachers have already prepped. This is week 10 of term 1, so it’s a trial week for the online classrooms that will be serious ‘normal’ school next term.
I’m really loving the mathseeds web site (and by “I” I mean “TJ” who LOVES maths and computer games). You can get a 30 day free trial by clicking through that link.
Today TJ did a “watercolour” picture by scribbling on a freezer bag with texta, then wetting a piece of paper and pressing the texta-marked bag against it. (I had to watch 10 minutes of example videos for that, apparently.) He also made a pattern with hair clips, which was actually really impressive.
Louisette did a writing exercise involving observations of our yard, using as many adjectives as possible. It’s hard as a pro writer to encourage excessive adjectives, but of course one must go through the period of using a bazillion adjectives before you can start cutting back sharply to only the very best.
I have been loudly telling other parents, “DON’T do everything the teachers give you! They are desperately trying to give you a lot of schooling as quickly as possible. But you and your kids will be better off if you’re selective.”
It’s very hard to follow my own advice. But it’s still good advice. Primary kids do NOT need more than 30 minutes of “actual” education per week day. (They do generally need more one-on-one time than that, and if you spend the time doing exercise and/or reading with them, great.) I shall attempt to follow my own advice and skip some of the many many activities prepared for us.
At present Louisette is wearing undies, a hoodie towel, wings, a cat mask, and a tiara.
* * *
I’m still quite badly depressed, although less than yesterday which in turn was less than my worst (yay?).
Things that actually help my depression include:
NB: I am generally fond of my kids and husband, but they are complicated and risky blessings. Sometimes they scream at me (the kids, not Chris), or cause physical (due to fibromyalgia, not abuse) or emotional pain. Yes they can make me feel amazing, but when I’m badly depressed it’s wise to limit contact (especially with the kids) if possible. (Obviously it’s not particularly possible at the moment, but retreating to my room and letting Chris do ALL the kid things on the weekend is helpful, especially if/when they exercise outside of the house.)
1. Chocolate. It’s #1 for a reason. Chocolate is often the thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. It is reliable, more or less harmless (other than the fact I’ll most likely die of something related to diabetes, hopefully not COVID-19) and it has a noticeable effect on my brain chemistry. Every depressed person should have some chocolate on hand to try in an emergency. It works faster than panadol and is more useful for this kind of pain.
2. Good TV (again, risky because there’s a lot of very dark good TV. Comedy is typically helpful, although fat/racist/sexist/etc jokes can strike without warning). I recommend Brooklyn 99, Gilmore Girls, and How I Met Your Mother.
3. Sunshine. When available. Even a few seconds can help. Sunrises and sunsets are well worth noticing.
4. Exercise. Fibromyalgia makes this a lot riskier (exercise often increases pain) but a little bit usually helps. Like 5 gentle (eg walking, swimming, bike riding) minutes.
5. Getting out of my own head. Reading, worshipping God, working/writing—all potentially useful.
6. Sleep, especially naps or sleeping in.
7. Meditation. There are a lot of different kinds to try. The most important thing is to accept that everyone daydreams/gets distracted during meditation so just accept those random thoughts and don’t feel bad that you have them.
8. Water. Drinking water feels good. If I’m feeling fancy, I add ice and/or a reuseable straw.
9. Friends. Listed last because friends can be tricky too. But mostly friends (especially those that aren’t all that close to you, sometimes) are helpful.
10. Be sick. Wallow. Let things slide. Depression is a sickness, and the right response is to lie in bed for a day or two if that’s what your brain is telling you to do.
I hope that helps as a lot of people are in a similar boat to me, brain-wise, at the moment.
Art of the day: The Samurai Kids series by Sandy Fussell. It’s suitable for middle grade, and is a lovely, gentle, funny series (with illustrations). Some of the characters have suffered severely (one of them accidentally killed another child) but the overall feeling of the books is warm and safe. Most of the characters have some kind of physical disability.
TOMORROW I will begin releasing the 15 videos of myself reading Farting My ABCs to my kids.
The Virus Diaries: Blurk
My manic phase is officially over.
I’m left with the problem that was predictable all along: How do I cope with this?
I’m not well enough to mind the kids for a full day.
But I have to mind the kids for a full day, every day. For a long time.
So…. ?
The world turns into plus and minus, resource and problem.
I’m angry all the time. Mostly at Chris for being healthy and sane, and having to go to work (in the study) instead of being at my beck and call 24/7 (or more specifically, at the kids’ beck and call).
Last night was bad. I didn’t get to sleep until 5:30am (that is, when the kids were getting up) and I spent a good chunk of the night terrified God would kill me because I had bad (depressed) thoughts, and another chunk rather hoping that this really was the end of the world because there’s just too much pain in the world and everything is awful.
Today wasn’t great either, but I survived it without screaming at anyone or breaking anything, which is pretty much the goal.
Yay.
I’m bored of my end-of-blog categories, so now I’ll just recommend some art (that is, books and TV) each day.
Art of the day: I watched the film Yesterday last night, about a musician who wakes up one day and the world has completely forgotten (among other things) the Beatles. So he remembers the songs and releases them, becoming a massive star. But what about the gorgeous BFF who was always his biggest fan? It’s written by Richard Curtis, full of gentle humour and Beatles music.
The Virus Diaries: The Kids are Better than All Right
My kids are 5 and 8. It’s TJ’s first year of school; a moment that I have looked forward to with GREAT excitement for many years. He’s done plenty of day care and preschool, but Kindy is different. Apart from anything else, his education is finally in sync with Louisette’s.
But.
It’s kind of nice, to once more be the world expert on my kids. I mean, I was still the expert when they went to school but there was a huge chunk of every weekday I didn’t see or even know about. Because of COVID-19, I am once more the absolute centre of their world. Even when I’m not actively doing anything and/or when Chris is taking charge of everything kid-related, I can hear them and I know what’s going on in their lives every hour of every day.
I saw TJ’s face as his first tooth fell out.
I planted potatoes with Louisette.
I finally read one of my own books to TJ, and he loved it.
I’ve gotten back into reading with Louisette.
I’m almost as good as TJ on MarioKart.
Louisette is getting good at her times tables because of me.
Never forget that the reason your kids misbehave so much is that they know you’ll still love them no matter what they do.
This is the first generation in a long time to spend so much time with their primary caregiver/s after they reached school age. Years from now, the kids—mine and yours—won’t remember COVID-19 the way we do. They will remember wearing their PJs for weeks at a time, and sleeping in every day, and never having to rush to get to school. They’ll remember the time you got sick of education and watched a movie with them instead, and the time you burned popcorn together and stunk out the entire house. They’ll remember countless hours spent becoming a genuinely skilled athlete thanks to your cheap plastic basketball hoop, and jumping every day on the trampoline that they’d forgotten existed. They’ll remember eating wraps for lunch instead of regular bread, and drinking juice instead of milk—we’ll know it was because we couldn’t find the groceries we needed, but they’ll just remember how fun it was—and they’ll forget the day they screamed because there was only half a fish fillet in their dinner instead of a whole one. They’ll remember lying in the sun at lunchtime with you, talking about nothing because for once you had nothing better to do and no one more interesting to talk to. They’ll remember how you coloured in next to them, and the day you whispered that you can never remember your eight times tables either. They’ll remember being with you, day in and day out; being at the centre of your world and knowing they’re surrounded every second by the ones who love them the most. They’ll carry that feeling of love and connection for the rest of their lives.
Kids who experienced 2020 will be kinder than other kids. They’ll know to check on the elderly and the chronically ill, and will consider it a normal part of everyday life. They’ll always smile at strangers, and will never hesitate to help someone in trouble. They will never take hugs for granted. They will always know that they are loved at their worst, no matter what, and at the same time they’ll know that their parents are sometimes scared or tired, and sometimes not even very good at being parents. They will reflect our own exhausted 2020-style love back to us when we’re too old to care for ourselves, and in those future days they’ll be the ones putting up with our eccentric clothing styles and constant whinging for treats.
They’ll know that no amount of money or possessions can stop a person depending on other people to get through the hard times, and they’ll live in a serene faith that when the chips are down, all of humanity can cooperate, and all of humanity actually does a pretty good job of looking after each other. They’ll know that even the most vile and selfish politicians eventually do the right thing because there are enough good and clever people in the world to sway the balance of public opinion towards facts and scientific truth. They’ll be more empathetic and flexible than other generations, and more connected to the global community. They will be the generation that sees the world take united action against Climate Change, because they’ll know from experience that the whole world can achieve amazing things. They will be the best adults this world has ever seen.
Resource of the day: Your kids are surprisingly resourceful. What’s something they’ve always wanted to do but you never had time for?
Recommended donation of the day: Who can you ‘donate’ time to today?
Personal action of the day: Find a different song to wash your hands to. Anything that takes twenty seconds is good, and that’s the length of many popular choruses.
Hoarding item of the day: This is the final day for hoarding, as grocery shops will start restricting customer numbers from tomorrow. Maybe get a haircut, since everyone’s trying to get in one last shop today (before the queues start)?
The Virus Diaries: My Apocalypse Garden
One of the great joys of parenthood is being able to skillfully manipulative one’s children. So when TJ asked to shoot 100 baskets (which would take at least an hour of throwing, running after the ball, and throwing again) instead of jumping on the trampoline 100 times (which takes about a minute), of course I said yes.
He’s up to 17 so far (I relented of course and let him jump on the trampoline), and he’s getting pretty good. I predict a lot of kids will be AMAZING at shooting baskets by the time quarantine is over.
All these photos were taken from different shots, but they look awesome in this order.
It was raining all day yesterday, but we all coped fine. Ditto today, plus I had a big phone appointment with my doctor so she can write a letter specifying my 35 points of Impairment for Centrelink. And I’m still holding up well at 4:35pm. Plus I did lessons for both kids, and washed my hair. I’m winning at life, is what I’m saying.
This Sunday marks our third week of isolation. But, in a reverse of normal life, I’m very much looking forward to school holidays (which start on either this coming Wednesday or Thursday). Because normally I’m terrified to spend a full day at home with the kids and no Chris, but these holidays will be easier than trying to also educate them—plus Chris will be on hand if I have a panic attack or I’m not coping in whatever way.
My quest to have Zipper come on my lap in the hammock continues. Twice now I’ve actually lifted her into my lap and gently held her for a few seconds. She jumped off immediately, but she didn’t flee the area and she didn’t eviscerate me so clearly she didn’t mind all that much. I have a billion photos of her taken from the hammock, as she usually comes and sits close by (walking underneath me every so often to collect a pat on the way through).
Weirdly, she’s been even more affectionate lately. A lot of cats are probably stressed out by having their owners around all the time (and the kids) but Zipper apparently likes it. She loves it when I have insomnia (most nights) and get up to watch more TV or whatever late at night.
Louisette and I planted our (very green and sprouting) potatoes the other day. We cut them in half (I’m pretty sure that’s what Matt Damon did in “The Martian”) and planted them in a section of the front garden that Chris had weeded for us. Louisette adores gardening.
I have killed many many Woolies variety basil plants. This one has some brown bits but is otherwise… well, alive. And that’s the main thing. I’m hoping it can last long enough for me to use it as “greens” for Passover (by which I mean the Christian version, celebrating what we see as something God deliberately designed to foreshadow Jesus’ arrival and resurrection), which I’ll be doing via Zoom with my family (probably). Assuming I get over my slight phobia of video chats.
Greens and potatoes are an absolute must in any apocalypse garden. Greens because green vegetables are so important, and potatoes because they provide almost everything a person needs in a single delicious item. (Assuming no Blight, of course…)
I also have a lemon tree, which started producing a few edible fruit from last year (after contributing exactly nothing for four years). Great for staving off scurvy, and of course making lemonade.
And it’s not food but I’m trying to grow a cutting off a purple bush in my front yard. So far I kept it in water for several weeks (and it didn’t die) then stuck it in a pot with another plant. It’s looking unhappy but I think it misses having all the water it could drink so I’m watering it more when I remember.
A LOT of people are starting or expanding their existing food gardens at the moment, so if you’re trying to start your own you might have trouble getting plants. But my facebook feed is now about 70% gardens (mostly flowers) so that’s kinda nice.
Resource of the day: Advice for those gardening in Canberra.
Recomended donation of the day: Got something edible growing in your garden? I bet people in your neighbourhood would love cuttings and/or home grown food. You can leave some out the front of your house with a sign telling people to help themselves.
Personal action of the day: If you have a pet, take them to a vet for a checkup immediately. Vets are currently stocktaking their supplies so that some medical equipment can be used to save human lives. Which means there won’t be any for pets. So try to keep your pet in good health, if you can.
Recommended hoarding item of the day: Gifts for your family and friends for the next 6 months (possibly from your garden).
The Virus Diaries: The Truth About My Routine
Not so long ago, I wrote a post on sanity, including ten tips to stay sane while self-isolating. Let’s go through them and see if I am actually following my own advice (unlikely, since it’s designed for healthy people and I am really not healthy at all).
1. Do something. Whether it’s your job, journalling, writing a novel, gardening, or whatever, try not to slide into the utter nothingness of pure unfettered laziness for too long (it gets old after about three days, and it can be hard to snap out of it). Wear pants. Shower. Eat breakfast at breakfast time. Cook proper food and clean the kitchen every night. A lot of people are celebrating “Formal Fridays” where they dress up for the day and post photos online.
Lol nope. People with chronic illness will know what I mean when I say “couch days”. Some days you can’t do anything, and barely stir from the couch. It’s not fun, even though I bet it looks like it from the outside (to ignorant healthy people, who wish they could do more of nothing… sick people WISH we could have the dignity of a steady job).
I haven’t worn pants (jeans) since Boxing Day 2018. I remember that date very clearly, because it was just over a month since I’d had major abdominal surgery, and it was very exciting to be able to wear pants. The next day, I was back in hospital for a post-op infection and had to get operated on again. It wasn’t definitely the fault of the jeans, but I haven’t attempted jeans since. My stomach still has major issues, and I’m not that big on jeans anyway. Anyone who knows me in real life will know that I wear ankle length skirts every day. It’s the closest thing to a hospital gown, if you think about it (except for the gap in the back): comfortable and loose-fitting.
I wore a bra briefly yesterday and it really hurt my back. Not because of the bra, which doesn’t even have underwire, but because my back is that dodgy. So I don’t even do Wear-A-Bra Wednesday.
I’ve gone semi-nocturnal, waking around midday. And actually that’s working really well.
2. Stop. Take at least one day a week off, whatever that means for you. Enjoy that lazy Sunday vibe, stay in your PJs all day, eat nothing but cereal, do no schoolwork, whatever. Apart from anything else, this gives you something to look forward to.
I’m very excited about the weekend, when I shall cheerfully shove all parenting responsibility onto Chris for the full two days, and hopefully get some of MY work done. At the moment I need writing more than a true day off.
3. Do healthy stuff. Eat well (especially fruit and vegies, or things will not go well in your bathroom), and figure out a way to exercise (walking, running up and down stairs, playing soccer with the kids, whatever). Make yourself get up at a certain time each day (with one ‘sleep in’ day a week because sleeping in is awesome). Get some sunshine if you possibly can (I’m assuming you at least have a balcony). It really helps your body feel like you’ve done something and can therefore sleep at night.
Yeah nope. Never done much of that (since I got too sick for most of it) and certainly not starting now.
4. Be polite no matter what.
Hmm. So far, mostly. Wanted to punch Chris in the face today and instead simply told him that I was angry and he apologised. So that’s a moral victory, I suppose.
5. Pick your goals wisely, and change course as required.
Yeah, that I do.
6. Failure is always an option.
I do that too.
7. Remember humans are amazingly adaptable, even you.
I’m astonished at how well I’m holding up so far. Of course, I’m also aware that there’s a manic episode happening. When I come down things may get rough. If I look after myself as much as possible while manic, the fall won’t be as hard.
8. Do fun stuff.
It has been fun to pour my creativity into stuff like the obstacle course (which Louisette still likes and TJ still refuses to do) and a Secret Project I’m prepping for the holidays.
9. Humour.
Always.
10. Whatever works.
Always.
My normal weekday routine pre-COVID-19:
7-9am: Get up, get kids ready for school, put a load of washing on, drop them at school.
9ish-12ish: Immediately change into PJS. Watch TV and/or write stuff. Lunch.
12ish-2:30ish: Nap.
3-6: Fetch kids, immediately change into PJs, play wii with TJ, make kids shower, prepare dinner.
6:30-8: Dinner and bedtime routine.
8pm-11ish: Watch TV and/or write stuff. Go to bed.
And now:
12ish: Wake up, eat breakfast, do a load of washing, fetch kids’ lunches. (Chris gets the kids breakfast around 7am and then goes to work in his study.)
1-4ish: Louisette is at her best (it’s her Ritalin window) so make sure to do her schooling (currently just the obstacle course) and make her shower in this time window. Also do TJ’s schooling (which he begs for) and shower (which he begs not to do, but it only takes 60 seconds once he’s in).
3ish-6ish: Write blog, usually (in bits and pieces between other things) and play wii/watch NumberBlocks with TJ while Louisette watches TV in her room.
6:30-8: Dinner and bedtime routine.
8pm-1am ish: Watch TV and/or write stuff (usually too tired to do any writing). Go to bed.
This is Louisette working on the obstacle course.
I hope looking at my routine makes you feel better about yours. Honestly, I really am doing amazingly well. Since Chris is working form home now, which means 2 hours extra in his day, it’s time for him to start doing useful stuff with the kids. So he takes care of showering the kids now (YAY). And he’s home at 5pm instead of 6:30, which is VERY helpful since by then I’m too tired to play on the wii with TJ, but TJ is too tired to amuse himself.
Resource of the day:
A lot of people are encouraging kids to get into letter-writing or play on playgrounds. Please don’t—playgrounds and paper are both very able to carry COVID-19 for several days (possibly as much as 17 days).
Donation of the day:
People still have medical expenses. Have a look at GoFundMe and pick a winner.
Personal action of the day:
Use gloves when opening your mail (or leave it somewhere safe for at least a week before opening it), and carefully throw away envelopes.
Hoarding item of the day:
Tongs? Since gloves are probably out of stock everywhere.
The Virus Diaries: Goodness
Look, I know there are lots of things that suck right now. But I’ve never seen such a flood of kindness, generosity, and support. I’ve never felt so connected to the whole world—in a good way.
This entry is almost entirely made up of just stuff from my facebook and twitter feed from the last hour. It’s a random mixture of encouragement, humour, information, stuff to do, and resources to help people either deal with self-isolation or understand why it’s necessary.
The above was posted by Julia Vee from the Parasol Protectorate facebook group.
The “Bear Hunt” is all about putting teddy bears in windows and front gardens for kids to spot as they walk around the neighbourhood.
And here are some videos:
A bunch of late-night hosts are working from home. It’s messy, awkward, and hilarious:
This is my favourite song right now. It’s rude and funny and strangely inspiring (make sure your kids aren’t in the room).
Another parody song:
A beautiful in-character bit of encouragement from The Doctor herself:
A charmingly odd news article. It kind of epitomises how so many people are reacting to this global challenge—with humour, with love, and with everyone asking, “What can *I* do to help?”
Here’s a news article thinking about how COVID-19 will change the world, which is fascinating for all of us (I haven’t had time to read it yet, because I’ve been hard at work all day preparing something VERY special for the school holidays). Not necessarily uplifting, but sometimes it’s nice to have someone say, “This is what will happen next, then this, then this.”
And how about twitter, that infamous trash fire?
This guy is always like that. He bleeds love and kindness every single tweet.
(If you haven’t read Gail Carriger’s funny supernatural steampunk tales, you should!)
I wish I was in Melbourne right now, but I also love how facebook has so much content talking about how important artists are right now.
I’ve been fielding emails and calls all this time. My Flourish home mental support people switched to phone calls, but gave me a million other options of ways to stay connected, and also checked a whole lot of practical things (do you have food? Can someone look after your kids if you are sick?)
My chemist called me up to say they’ll be delivering my regular medications to me, and is there anything extra I need? My friend Chevelle climbed into a store refrigerator to get me the last, lost pack of frozen peas. My Mum finished painting the signs we were making together (pics soon). People are looking at their pantry and giving food away over social media.
A woman I have never met gave me a quilt she made. That’s not even because of the ‘rona. She just… makes quilts, and gives them away.
Here is the quilt (gorgeous, isn’t it?) hanging on my washing line (hence the odd pic) for several days so any ‘rona germs can die before I touch it.
It is, in a word, beautiful.
I’m not saying the ‘rona doesn’t suck. It does. I’m not saying certain people aren’t being tossers. There are some people making awful decisions out of various kinds of fear. But what I’m mostly seeing is kindness, thoughtfulness, generosity, humour, and creativity—all at unprecedented levels.
We can do this. We have each other.
Resource of the day: I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if you’re not on social media now is a great time to join.
Donation of the day: What weird item or talent can YOU throw out into the zeitgeist?
Personal action of the day: Have you heard of #FormalFriday? Or my alternative, Wear-A-Bra Wednesday? Go ahead and dress up. It’s good for the soul.
Hoarding item of the day: Pet food and litter (only 2 weeks’ worth, okay?)
The Virus Diaries: Big News in TJ Town
Yesterday, I received money! From the internets!
I think this means I just monetised my blog. Amazing.
But that’s not the big news of the day. As per yesterday’s announcement, it’s all about TJ, and specifically his teeth.
Way back when his big sister was losing teeth and we laughingly told TJ that his teeth would fall out in a few years, he was very disturbed by the whole idea (even when we explained how adult teeth are coming through, and that it doesn’t hurt, and told him the current going rate for the tooth fairy).
Over time, he became reconciled to the possibility that he might one day make the switch, bit by bit, to adult teeth. Then he began looking forward to it, and we assured him that it would happen automatically; he didn’t need to do anything but his teeth would eventually start to fall out (and not all at once either).
Last year, he told me he had a sore tooth. “This one?” I asked, pushing down on it gently.
“Yes,” he said, in his most pathetic maybe-I-can-stay-home-from-school-tomorrow voice.
“It’s not hurt,” I told him, testing and confirming my hypothesis as I spoke. “It’s wobbly.”
And there was much rejoicing.
That really was last year. Before the fires, floods, smoke, and hail of last Summer, and before COVID-19 affected our lives in any way. A good chunk of his lifetime ago, proportionally speaking.
Then last night he ran into my room and threw himself face-first onto my bed (this is how he enters my room). “Mum! Mum! Mum!” he said. “My tooth is super duper wobbly, look!”
He was not wrong. I told him it would definitely fall out within the next few days. (He declined my offer of assistance.) We took a photo to send to Daddy, and called him to tell him. Daddy was suitably impressed.
Then TJ tried a variety of pain-free techniques his Poppy had shown him: Blowing on his tooth. Dancing. Nodding. Nothing happened. So he ran around the house a few times screaming, “I’m so excited! I can’t believe this is really happening!” and then came back and hurled himself at my bed again.
Then he looked up at me, and I saw his cheeky face freeze in surprise and consternation. My stomach dropped in maternal fear.
He opened his mouth, and his tooth fell out into his hand.
The penny dropped for me a moment before it dropped for him: “Your tooth! That’s your tooth! It fell out!”
And he jumped up and down, and ran to tell his sister. And we called Daddy and told him. And we called Nana and Poppy and told them. And we took photos to send to the grandparents. And to Dad.
And there was much rejoicing.
Because sometimes staying home and slowing down is more epic and exciting than anything else could possibly be.
Resource of the day:
I haven’t read this article yet, but I’m extremely excited to watch Picard! [Editor: That’s only relevant to the US, but we can buy some Amazon Prime to watch it ourselves.]
Donation of the day:
People are still having babies, and it can be a very lonely time even when the world isn’t mid-plague. These guys help, and there’s a DONATE button at the top.
Personal action of the day:
If you’re not fully isolated (or sick) yet, hire a cleaner. They might need the cash at the moment, and they’re the professionals at this stuff.
Hoarding item of the day:
Winter jackets. We won’t need them for at least a month or two, but better to get it done now if you can. It’s easy to buy awesome winter jackets online (keeping in mind that mail can get COVID-19 on it so you may want to keep the parcel outside for up to two weeks before opening it).
The Virus Diaries: Educational Obstacle Course
Last night, my daughter made up a story about a magical eagle protecting smaller birds. It was lovely. Just one problem: the villain was the main character’s cruel and despotic mother. She told it with perfect innocence, which makes it so much worse.
She also said today that she can’t wait until she has kids so they can rock her in a hammock. Well, sure.
In the above pic she’s dressed (since we’re outside) but her latest apocalypse outfit is a blanket draped around her like a Greek goddess. And why not?
And the evolution of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” has reached its inevitable conclusion:
As you can see in that video, Zipper remains torn between her desire to be near her pet humans and her desire to avoid the Dangerous Blue Swinging Thing.
Anyway.
I’ve been terribly impressive this week. On Sunday I had an idea for an educational obstacle course that got the kids reading (at their different levels), exercising, and practising maths (at their different levels) at the same time.
I gathered together all the vaguely exercise-related outside toys I could think of, plus some others, and got rid of trip hazards in the yard. Then I collected 2- and 3-letter verbs, ie words that TJ could read and then do. Here’s my collection: go, get, run, hop, hit, pat, get, up, jog (also ‘and’, ‘cat’, ‘dog’, ‘fox’, ‘mat’, ‘rat’). Or if he’s particularly impressive: jump, pull, push, sing, climb, skip (also ‘ball’, ‘down’). We’ve been learning ‘th’ and specifically ‘the’ and ‘this’. He is already able to recognise his numbers.
Then I wrote a 20-part story that never had more than a few sentences at a time (for Louisette to read), with an underlined bit that TJ could read, and actions for each part. I printed out two copies; one for me to follow along with, and one to tape up section by section around the yard (I should have made the numbers bigger so they could more easily spot the clues in the correct order). Here’s the full story, with my comments in italics. Feel VERY free to cut, paste, and adapt to your own yard or house.
The Runaway Rabbit
A rabbit is a handy main character because you can get the kids to hop the whole course if you like and/or wear rabbit ears if you have them. Also, a lot of kids struggle to pronounce their ‘r’ sound, so this can be a good time to practise the ‘rrr’ growl sound (although not on Day 1 when they’re overwhelmed by all the novelty). The plot of “something’s chasing you” and/or “the ground is lava” is extremely adaptable. Attentive readers will note that it’s not necessary for every section to make story sense. The kids get how the story works and will go with the flow.
I probably should have put clear contact on the clues but I reckon they’ll last 1-2 weeks even if it rains, which is as long as the kids will be willing to do this every day.
I chose a ‘handwriting’ font so that the letter ‘a’ would be printed the way it’s written (unlike the font I’m using right now). Reading is hard enough without making up a new letter shape.
- You are a rabbit. There is a fox coming! Go this way.
- The fox is getting closer! You need to jump lots of times and say a times table.
For example: 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, 20, 22, 24.
Obviously #2 is at the trampoline. But kids can jump up and down without a trampoline if you don’t have one.
- You hurt your foot! Hop here.
- Quick! Jump aboard the train to escape that cheeky fox. Push this.
I set up a wooden toy train set on the table, which was one of the most labour-intensive parts of this whole thing because I needed to bring it in each night and then set it up again each morning. Your mileage will vary.
- Oh no! The fox jumped onto the train too! You need to step up onto the roof of the train. Don’t fall!
Any stable bench or chair will work.
- Carefully climb this way to get onto the next carriage. Don’t fall!
Moving from one bench/chair to another.
- The fox has fallen asleep on the train. Very quietly get down and rock Mum so the fox stays asleep and you can escape.
Hammock time. Or they could sing a song and/or do a dance until the ‘fox’ falls asleep.
- You got off the train, phew! What time is it now? Look at the clock.
This works with any clock/s, ideally with batteries removed so you control what time it is (for them to practise telling the time).
- A volcano is erupting! The grass is lava so don’t let it touch you.
Lay out any objects that the kids can use as stepping stones (pavers are great).
- Oh no! Five baby rabbits are falling from an apartment window above you.
Catch 5 balls and give them back to their mother (the washing basket).
We have a ball run. As long as you have a ball, the kid/s can play catch for this section. Or you can use a basketball hoop and ball here eg ‘Throw the baby rabbits through the hoop to safety.’
- The lava is coming even faster! You need to take the car.
We have a toy car. Alternatively, this is a good time to do more hopping, if you haven’t already.
- You see something round in the distance. Is it a safe place? Go to the hoop.
This is a hoola hoop hung from the washing line with string/rope/ockey strap. A bent hoop works fine. This is the part that impressed the kids the most.
- Step in and over the hoop.
‘Step through the hoop’ is clearer, but I was trying to use words TJ could have a go at.
- There’s even more lava! Get the car and go back to the same spot as before. This is designed so Mum doesn’t have to move the car when she resets the course.
- There’s so much lava everywhere! You will need to balance very carefully along a narrow ledge to get to the only safe place. Step on the rope.
I used a skipping rope (which Louisette loved, and TJ said was too hard for him). Any rope will do and is great balance practice.
- Climb up onto the porch and then sit on the steps. Phew! Time for a break!
Up and down steps is great exercise.
- Oh no! Even more lava! Throw the ball through the hoop!
This is where our basketball hoop came in (and much chasing of runaway balls, which is also great exercise). We have a stool next to it for the shorter kid.
18. The fox has found you again! RUN!
Cunning parents will have their kids run more than a few steps, eg ‘Run to the tree and back.’
19. A tall tree! Climb up here and you’ll finally be safe.
This loops back to the place where they started, which makes it natural for them to try it again if they’re keen. (Mine were not.)
20. Aha! The fox ran away and the volcano finally stopped erupting. You’re really safe now, and the other rabbit family is safe too.
Good job.
The End.
This is my kids (5 and 8) doing the first part of the course for the first time.
It’s extremely important to balance confidence and skill. TJ is very excited about reading, so I felt I could get away with more than one TJ-oriented word per section (especially as I’ll be running them through the course daily for at least a week). Always aim for ‘too easy’ rather than ‘challenging’ because confidence is more important than competence in primary school. Younger kids should just read one or two sections (which could be built up over time eg 2 the first day, 4 the next time, then 6, and so on).
Teaching is learning, so a bigger kid helping a smaller kid is EXCELLENT for the bigger kid. It shows them how far they’ve come.
On the other hand, doing the course with multiple kids is extremely likely to cause fights (especially at the end of the day). Your kids are probably desperate for one-on-one attention.
Obviously you can set different times tables and different clock times whenever you like. For Kindy, being able to read ‘Such-and-such o’clock’ is plenty, and they’d probably practise counting rather than times tables on the trampoline.
Repetition is good (I’m NOT making a new course for each day!) and memorising words is part of reading. On her second go, Louisette’s reading was much more fluent. TJ refused to do it a second time, saying that balancing on the rope and getting a ball through the hoop was too hard. I offered help and he refused.
Kids are punks… so try to keep it simple in case they point-blank refuse to try it. Which will definitely happen in some families.
At least the cat appreciates it.
Resource of the Day: That was it. This will be all we do for the next week or so of school. (I am lying; TJ will continue learning Jolly Phonics letters, because that’s what he wants to do.) Here‘s my guide to educating your Kindy kid at home for as little as ten minutes a day in case you missed that.
Donation of the Day: Do you know someone will a big birthday, event, or (gulp) wedding that is going to be cancelled or postponed because of the COVID-19 virus? Buy or make them something super special (then don’t let anyone touch it or go near it for 9 days, then wash your hands and deliver it to their porch).
Personal Action of the Day: Disinfect the kids’ school bags, especially the handles (especially if they’ve just had their last day at physical school for a while).
Hoarding Item of the Day: Buy a kindle. Then you can read a million books without risking any germs from the post. And I suspect postal workers will be overworked too.
We have extremely exciting news for tomorrow!
Well, it’s extremely exciting to us. And especially TJ.
Felicity Banks 