Motor Skill Maniac

 where you end up when you can only crawl backward.

When Charlie started crawling, he crawled backwards.  He just wouldn’t go forward and would end up in precarious places as he had no clue as to where he was crawling.  I, having a tendency to worry, overanalyze and catastrophize, decided there was something wrong, developmentally, and that this was likely an indicator of a learning disability to come.  “Who crawls backwards?” I worried aloud, hoping someone with experience would hear and reassure me that they knew of plenty of well-adjusted adults who began their journey’s crawling backward.  Then, at a dinner party, a professor of English told me that researchers had made a link between crawling and the ability to read.  “Great!” I thought, “He’ll be dyslexic for sure.”

Now a great forwards walker, runner and marcher (Ants Go Marching is a perennial favourite in our house) Charlie has recently started cutting a rug whenever he hears a song he likes.  He’s got the moves like Jagger! Surprisingly (I never thought a son of Elaine would be so on-beat and limber!)  And most recently he has taken to side stepping down the hallway, both right and left.  Its like he’s on an invisible tightrope and is sneaking around somewhere trying not to be seen.  Its adorable.

I always thought of Charlie as more adept in the fine motor department.  He doesn’t get into things head first. He doesn’t climb or do physically strenuous things that might involve an element of danger.  He’ll hang back and watch the other carefree children “discover” and will then decide if he should take part.  In an effort to balance him out and move him away from puzzles, picnics and scribbling, we bought a plastic baseball bat and ball, a small foam football and Grandma bought a bowling set.  Charlie loves hacking at the ball with his bat the way a lumberjack schools a fallen tree.  Swinging it is not and hand-eye coordination is not really established, but he has time to enter Shoeless Joe Jackson territory, I mean he is after all only 2.  We’re working on rolling a ball, kicking a ball (alas, there is no bending it like Beckham).  He can’t jump up and down yet, but he can squat and crouch like a champ.  I’m not following a gross motor skill checklist from a baby book, but I feel like being able to throw, catch, kick and roll a ball are pretty important things for a toddler to learn and practice.  I’m not Walter Gretzky, but it would be great if Charlie had a hat trick under his belt by JK.  Thankfully it seems like I’m not the only one who wants their kids to hone their physicality either.

Enter B2Ten whose tagline is “Dare to Be Great”. They are an elite group of business people whose goal it is to support and develop Olympic level athletes.  Its in their best interest (and ours, as proud, medal-loving Canadians!) to make sure their pool of potential isn’t dwindling, but growing.  The group’s focus is on what they call "physical literacy" and it is their goal that it will catch on with moms (even non-sporty ones like me!)  You see, moms are the key holders, who, in a few minutes a day, can teach toddlers the basic elements of movement and co-ordination that will result in them being more confident when they try physical games, sports, for the first time, rather than giving up early because they are not comfortable with the basic skills. Now, I’m not saying that Charlie needs to be center on the podium by the time he’s 18, but I’d like at least a little league medal or two and if I could, would like to help him avoid that awful feeling of being picked last for a team.  Check out their PSA-style advertisement here.   If it doesn’t give you goosebumps and motivate you to turn your TV off and go outside to run and play with your kid, I don’t know what will!  As a teacher, I know how the curriculum stresses Daily Physical Activity (DPA) in schools and how moving and being active isn’t just reserved for Gym time.  Kids (a lot of them kinesthetic learners) learn best when they’re moving - especially boys.  I’ve seen more kids than I can count on one hand be in a situation with ample reaction time and still get hit in the face with a red rubber dodge ball and I ask you, did these kids’ parents ever play catch with them?  

Let Me Show You How Its Done

Molly the Dinosaur, a clay model "by me" in 1st grade (with mom's help)

Growing up as a rather bookish, school-loving nerd, there was a lot of parent engagement in my learning journey.  I’m not sure if my home life helped solidify these traits which would have existed otherwise or if I was a product of great, involved parents.  I’ll paint the picture: my parents always read to me (a variety of books and articles and even the ingredients on the pancake mix).  They helped me with my homework (and then some) and they always were there to save the day on a diorama that wouldn’t stand up right or to help figure out a tricky math problem (re: every math problem I was ever assigned).  I was lucky and I did well in school.  They didn’t do my work for me, but they supported me, shared ideas and modeled how to do certain things properly or more efficiently or with more finesse.  

Nowadays, especially now being a teacher, I unfortunately see that parent involvement isn’t always there.  Some parents are too busy and some don’t know how to help.  Some (if they can afford it) hire tutors.  Others pack in the extra curricular activities (also great, don’t get me wrong) but leave little time for school work or enrichment.  Whatever the reason, and it varies greatly from child to child, it can be an issue that will impact the child’s school success, and its one that I’m trying to avoid for my own son.  As a parent and a teacher, I’m not a huge fan of homework, but for practice sake, I am, especially if the child requires extra support above and beyond what they receive within the school’s walls.  Now Charlie is only 2 and years away from any (official) school programming, but I am trying to expose him to as much art and literacy and math in fun ways as I can now in an effort to give him a good foundation for JK.  

The other day, at playgroup, where I consciously take him to expose him to social scenarios involving many children to encourage sharing, cooperative play, and group learning, I found myself questioning both my parenting and teaching ability.  I was at a fork in the road and I couldn’t decide which path to take.  

Here’s what went down: An ECE student at a local college was at the drop in center as part of her internship and had organized all the day’s crafts.  The fork in the road came during a tissue paper and glue craft which was supposed to culminate in a breezy mixed media seaside scene.  I looked at the example and gathered the materials for Charlie’s piece.  First of all, I knew I was forcing Charlie to be artistic in a moment where he really just wanted to kick puzzle pieces across the room.  “Do you want to do this craft?” I told him rather than asked him, as I plunked him down on the chair.  “Here is the glue.  Put some on the paper down here so the water can stick” I ordered as I waved some turquoise tissue in front of his face.  “See?” holding up the example like Vanna White, “this tissue will be for the water.” As he motioned eating the glue off the mini spatula I decided to wipe the glue onto the paper for him.  “That’s right” I said, really just complimenting my own work.  “Now press some BLUE tissue on top to look like the waves!” He stared blankly at me and tried to eat more paste (to his credit, paste does look an awful lot like Vanilla yoghurt).  I finished the craft for him and wrote his name on it.  I was wiping and cleaning as we went.  His activity center had mise en place for goodness sake.  I found myself avoiding mess and in doing so curbed any and all of his freedom to be creative.  The fork in the road was missed for me, but it became clear after the fact when I witnessed another mom who let her daughter get filthy and sticky with glue and create a dog’s breakfast piece of “art” if you wish to call it that.  Any art buff worth his salt would be hard pressed to find even an echo of an oceanic or nautical theme in her work. However she looked darn pleased with herself and asked to do another while the first piece dried.  Charlie was back climbing up the baby slide in (now bare) feet (where on earth did he put his socks and shoes?)  I chose to take the path of overbearing direct instructor as opposed to a discovery model of learning.  Charlie still doesn’t know what white glue feels (or tastes) like and he hasn’t got cotton baton (excuse me, cumulonimbi clouds) stuck under his fingernails.  And its all my fault.  I robbed him of a real art experience.  I was focused on the product and not the process.  Wrong, wrong, WRONG!

I find myself questioning this very thing in a kindergarten classroom only days later.  The children are gathered on the carpet working together to build “mat man” a large wood and felt “puzzle” of an anatomically correct human.  There is a circle for the head and two big round eyes, arms, legs, etc.  It is a kinesthetic way of learning about the face and body so that they can move away from stick figures and draw more lifelike people in their work.  But I ask myself, do you just let kids continue to draw their body-less globs with one eye and hair but no mouth hands or legs - and compliment them, hoping that soon, they will realize that most people have 2 eyes and bodies and they will self correct?  Or, do you criticize their work and say, “Nice green grass, Liam, however that man mowing the lawn (or pouring out a bucket of red paint, I’m not sure) doesn’t have any arms or legs! Go back and draw some please!”

Do you let creativity reign or do you model and share the process - guiding them toward the desired (or your desired) outcome?

One and Done

spoiled? lonely? the only way for an only child?

My son just turned 2 and already the questions about when I’m going to have another have already started.  They are harmless questions, their askers mean well and some (basically strangers) are just making conversation (in line at the store mostly).  For me, I don’t know how to field this question.  I don’t have a short and sweet answer that’s canned and ready to deliver when the moment arises.  If I’m asked, first I issue a rather awkward pause, and then I start in on this long winded, philosophical answer about the meaning of life and the mother and child bonding process and who I am as a meaningful member of society.  I think that this response is effective in that it tends to throw people off the scent of the answer they were looking for (and maybe even forget their question entirely).  

Do people not realize what a loaded questions this is? I mean, what if my husband and I were trying (unsuccessfully?) what if I had a hard pregnancy (oh wait, I did!) and postpartum (oh wait, I had that too).  What if I find it hard to rally the patience for just one let alone two children?   Nobody thinks about these things - they just ask.  They raise one eyebrow, suggestively, and say “Time for baby number 2?” Like a waitress desperate for a big tip, encouraging me to order another Amaretto Sour.  

I know that people have this stereotype about only child syndrome or that I should try it again because now that I know what to expect (even though every conception / pregnancy / birth and postpartum story is different) I might be able to handle it all better and, this time, enjoy myself.  I do consider these things when deciding for myself.  My husband and I discuss these things too. And money and lifestyle and careers and family.  Funny how we never discussed these things in detail before they happened.

Family members hint all the time about going out for a night on the town with my husband so that we can produce another heir to the throne.  Or a princess sister for our little prince.  “His eyelashes are so long, Michelle, think about if you had a girl!”  I do get baby flutters now and then when I hold my baby niece or see cute (not crying, screaming babies) at play group.  But they are momentary flutters that go away rather quickly.  It so hard.  I never thought that I would feel this way.  My absolute favourite game growing up was playing with my dolls or playing “house” and I was always, always the mommy with my babies.  I love kids, I’m a teacher for goodness sakes.  But motherhood is different.  A friend of mine has a young son - a bit older than Charlie - and she is expecting twins.  What if that happens to me? I don’t mean to make it sound like getting hit by a car.  I shouldn’t refer to it as “happening to me” like its a tragedy.  I know others who’ve have had baby number 2 turn out to be baby number 2 and 3 and while some look at it as a blessing (and it is one, of course) it doesn’t always present itself clearly as a blessing until they are in school full time and you can enjoy them in small doses.  

Am I a terrible person for admitting all this?  I don’t know.  One and done is looking like it might be our family story, not by necessity, but by choice.  I wonder if I should make a decision tree and concept map my way to a decision?  Am I over-analyzing it?  I’m so on the fence its not even funny.  I guess its a pretty privileged place to perch.