Rewind and Repeat

Yesterday morning when I staggered down to the kitchen in search of my morning coffee, this is what I found...

P-lal was sitting on the kitchen counter, with my sunglasses on, listening to my i-pod. You see, my youngest son is currently obsessed with Harry Potter. On our summer adventure we downloaded and listened to the Harry Potter series, from book 2 to book 7 (we had already read book 1). I am one of those mean (and apparently rare, according to my kids) mothers who tried to encourage her kids to read, by not allowing them to see any of the Harry Potter films until they had read the books.

Admittedly, I lost the reading battle this time, but at least they heard the books before they saw the movies. When we returned from our trip the boys watched all of the movies several (dozen) times.

The problem for a Harry Potter fanatic like P-lal (and the explanation for the morning seating arrangement), is that the book 7 film has not been yet been released. So, in order to enjoy book 7 over and over again as he likes to do, P-lal has to listen to it on my i-pod. P-lal has listened to book 7 about 5 times since we returned from our trip 2 months ago, this might even be his sixth time through the book. Yesterday morning, my i-pod needed to be charged, and the docking station is located on the kitchen counter.

The sunglasses, who knows? It wasn't even a particularly bright morning.

What struck me when I walked into the kitchen this morning, was not the odd fact of my youngest child perched on the kitchen counter wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses. Let's face facts, strange things happen in my house all the time, I'm not even sure what a normal day would look like anymore. No, what struck me is the fact that six years ago, this same child was perched in that same spot, wearing a pair of my sunglasses.

Totally not cool dude.

Most days Mlal is 9 going on 18. He is very independent, with a wry sense of humour and is usually very aware of what is cool (or as he would say- sick) and what is not. I can't remember how many times over the past year or so I have heard my students using some new slang term, only to come home and hear Mlal using it correctly and completely naturally. Because of this, I sometimes forget that Mlal is indeed only 9 years old.

Recently, though, I have been reminded of this fact. On this particular day, Alal had a few of his hockey buddies over to hang out ( when did we stop having play dates?). Mlal, who is usually very cool, admires this bunch of boys, and clearly wanted them to be impressed by him, so he brought out his briefcase. That's right, Mlal has a briefcase. And he thought that this fact would impress his older brother's friends.

At this point, I really didn't know what to do. I wanted to protect Mlal from the ridicule of the older boys, but at the same time, I didn't want to be the one to have to point out that the briefcase was really not cool. I feared that the second Mlal realized the truth about the briefcase, it would be abandoned, like all the Jonas Brothers paraphernalia that is currently mouldering in the depths of his closet. I really enjoy 9 year old Mlal, while the teenage Mlal can sometimes be a bit trying. (Last year, when I stayed home from school with him while he was sick one day, he demanded that I take him to the local bar so he could shoot some pool...it gets a bit much sometimes)

What I ended up doing, was physically shielding Mlal from the faces of the older boys as he presented his briefcase and hurried Mlal and the others in opposite directions as quickly as possible. The older boys didn't say anything (to their credit), though the looks on their faces spoke pretty clearly. I'm happy to report though, that the briefcase is still one of Mlal most prized possessions.

The Beginning of the Story

Every weekday morning, after I have fed and dressed myself and my three kids, made sure teeth are brushed, clothes look moderately presentable, and school bags are packed, I leave the house at 8 am and begin the 12 minute drive to work. Most days this is the calmest 12 minutes of my day. Some days, I sit in the parking lot at work and stretch my 12 minutes to 15, or even 18 minutes, of tranquility. Meanwhile, at home, Alal is earning 2 dollars per day to supervise his brothers for 25 minutes and ensure that they get out the door and onto the school bus.

Tonight at dinner, Alal announced that he needed to report an incident from this morning. Our conversation went something like this.

Alal: I need to tell you about my brothers' behaviour this morning.

Me: Okay, what happened?

Alal: Well, Mlal took Plal's scooter and threw it in the bush, then Plal jumped on Mlal's back and started pulling chunks of his hair out.

Me (to Mlal and Plal): If you two can't behave yourselves in the morning, then one of you is going to have to go to the before school program at school, and it will be you Mlal, because you seem to be the one who starts these incidents.

Mlal (indignant): That's not fair, Alal didn't start at the beginning of the story.

Honestly, I couldn't even be bothered getting to the bottom of the incident because in my opinion, this story begins sometime back in late 2002 when, ten days late and after hours of back labour, Plal arrived.

Lord of the Flies

I read Lord of the Flies in Grade 11 as a required text for English class. I didn't hate it, as many teenaged girls do, but I didn't relate to it on a personal level, nor I think that could be in any way reflective of the real world. Who knew that 20 (okay 25) years later, Lord of the Flies would be so...instructive.


With one week before school is officially on, I feel like my boys have lost all sense of civilized behaviour, much like the boys in the novel. At the beginning of the summer, during our trip west, our living conditions were slightly more primitive than usual, but under the 24 hour a day guidance of Ylal and I, proper decorum was maintained. Our trip west was spent exploring and appreciating nature, we listened to Harry Potter audiobooks in the car, at the campfire and before bed. Calm was maintained.

August has been what I would characterize as a slow descent into chaos. The shackles of civilized society have been worn down as Ylal and I grew weary of settling the same arguments over and over again, and the beast of boredom stalked the house. This past month I have come to appreciate the role that boredom must have played in wars past, as I have observed the destructive nature of the imagination of my three boys. All outdoor play now involves phyisical battles (sometimes with improvised weapons) and all disagreements are negotiated with fists and feet first. My boys are more inclined to destroy than create when left to their own devices.

Am I doing something wrong? Is this the true nature of boys, as William Golding suggests in Lord of the Flies? Will we survive this last week of summer?



If Plal's glasses get broken, I'll let you know...

Ammunition

Mlal: Mom, when can I have a b-b gun?

Me: When you get your own house.

Mlal: When can I get an Air Soft gun?

Me: When you get your own house.

Mlal: Can I have a paintball gun?

Me: When you get your own house.

Mlal: What if the only thing on my Christmas list is a gun?

Me: Then you will get a lot of stuff for Christmas that you didn't ask for.

Mlal: Ah-ha! You are Santa.

No clue.

I sat down this afternoon to play my favourite board game with the kids. I have fond memories of afternoons spent in the company of my elementary school friends playing Clue. I was always Mrs. Peacock.

Turns out that Clue is not at all as I remember it. Halfway though the game, Colonel Mustard picked up the lead pipe in the library and attacked Professor Plum. A melee ensued and when it was all over, Miss Scarlett had been stabbed 18 times with the knife by Mrs White.

Boys are different.

Looming Puberty

Since the day I brought my first child home from the hospital I have dreaded the idea of parenting teenagers. Some people find this odd, after all I work with teenagers, I know how they work, I can handle them. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. The friends I have who work in the health care field are usually far more careful in the way they live their lives. They know first hand all of the ways in which simple things like driving a car, or jumping on a trampoline can lead to disaster.

That's the way I feel about parenting teenagers. Everyday I am confronted with the numerous ways in which a smart, loving and obedient pre-teen can turn into a surly, rebellious teenager who appears to have lost all common sense. This terrifies me. I have spent many a parent-teacher interview asking the parents of my best students "what did you do? How do I get a teenager like that?" Whatever the secret, I'm afraid my time is running out.

The signs that puberty is already haunting my household are unmistakable. In the fall there was the unmistakable stench of body odor and greasy hair. This was easily taken care of with a stick of deodarant and ensuring that the child in question showered more often. I forgot about it after that. This spring though,
puberty is back with a vengence.

The other day I came downstairs for breakfast. He was sitting at the table eating his cereal and clearly visible, because of his milk mustache, was the peach fuzz beginning to accumulate on his upper lip. That same day, my son, who has always been very eager to please all of the adults in his life, accused me of being a hypocrite. Not in so many words of course, but the message was clear, he is beginning to understand that I am not perfect! He immediately burst into tears after the accusation, whether out of frustration or because he feared I would be hurt I'm not sure. I hugged him, told him it would be okay and sent him on his way.

What is so unsettling about these signs of early puberty is the inconsistency. You never know if the person sitting at the dinner table is 11 wishing to be 8 again, or 11 going on 18. Is he going to sit on the floor and play cars with his younger brothers, or is he going to yell at them and tell them he hates them? In my house these days, you never know.