Homework

With the return of fall, homework is upon us once again.  I’m 41 years old and I still hate homework.  How is that possible?  And it seems like its harder now than it ever was.  Zoe came home last night with two books on bottlenose dolphins and said that she needed to do a report.  When I asked a few more questions I realized that she actually WANTED to do the report - it was not assigned, she just wanted to do it. Huh.

Max is a totally different story.  He had math homework last night that was just plain unbelievable.  I’m not sure who was more frustrated – him or me (although based on his screaming and writhing on the floor I'll assume it was him).  I have never liked math and I’ve never been good at it.  Unfortunately, Max ended up with that “bad at math” gene.  Last night’s homework was weights and measures.  Seriously?   My mind just does not comprehend that stuff nor do I see a real need for it. I mean really, we all have calculators now right?  We even have solar calculators so we won’t be lost during a power outage.  Not sure why I’d need to do calculations during a power outage but the fact remains that I could.

The night before Max brought home his math homework and it was all story problems.  I could feel all the breath whoosh out of me when he set it down in front of me.  “Mom, I just don’t get any of these", he said.  I turned the paper towards me, took a deep breath and started making crap up.  Really I wasn’t making it up so much as forcing him to figure it out by “pretending” that I didn’t understand it.  My pretending is VERY convincing, by the way.  Last week he asked for help with his math homework and it was fractions.  My absolute nemesis. Who does anything with fractions anymore?  If I ever have the need to utilize fractions it’s for cooking or baking and I can usually add ½ + ½ pretty well.  I actually had to Google “common denominators” and “fraction tutoring”.  Not exactly a show of confidence for a kid who is struggling.

Now my beloved husband, who is actually good at math, was no better with the homework.  You either get math or you don’t.  He does and I don’t.  Putting those two types of people together is a BAD idea.  I asked him to help Max the other night and when I came back to check on them he was yelling at Max, “HOW MANY TIMES DOES 42 GO INTO 53?  HOW MANY TIMES DOES 42 GO INTO 53?  How can you not get that???” 

Much like speaking to someone who doesn’t speak your language, speaking more loudly truly doesn’t help.

Is That a SPOT?

Ah the first day of school. Excitement is high, parents are relieved and everyone is packed and ready to go.  Zoe took the time to lay out her outfit the night before the first day of school.  She had the shirt, the pants, the socks, the shoes and even the hair accessories.  Max simply shoved a pair of shorts in my face and said, “Do these stink?”

In the morning all was going according to plan until… I heard a shriek coming from the bathroom and instinctively ran towards it thinking that someone was hurt. Upon entering the bathroom I found Zoe, near tears, staring at her shirt. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Don’t you see it??” she asked, incredulous.

“See what, sweetie?”

“My shirt!!! It has a spot on it!” She was creeping ever closer to hysteria at this point so I leaned in to take a closer look at the nefarious spot that was threatening to ruin our day.

“Honey? Sweetie? It looks kind of like a water spot to me.”

“I know” she cried, “what am I going to do??”

“Ummm, well, just throwing this out there, but we could dry it.”

“Why bother?? It’s ruined!!” and she stomped off to change her shirt.

Ok, wow. You’d think that someone had covered the kid from head to toe in boiling acid.  She freaked out over a WATER spot?  Are you kidding me??  I’ve left the house with far worse spots than that and haven’t given it a second thought.

Today we had a clothing issue (which actually began last night and continued this morning) about which shoes would be most appropriate with the outfit that she had laid out for the day. Down to the shoelaces - “Sparkly or purple, which do you think looks better?” OMG

By contrast, Max came home wearing his shirt inside out the other day. When I asked why his shirt was inside out he said, “Oh, I had to wear it for gym class and it got kind of sweaty so I just flipped it.” That’s my boy.