SV Moms: The Perils of Recess

I read a mommy blog post the other day about how there is no real recess at her daughter’s private school. The school is lovely, but they are not allowed to play with balls or chase boys, and there is such a huge ratio of adult to kid supervision that the kids aren’t really learning how to deal with each other. I nearly choked on my home-brewed coffee, and not just because at the moment I can’t even afford the donation I’m supposed to make to my kids' average scoring public school. Now don't get me wrong, I am thrilled that my kids are allowed to play with balls and run around, but IMHO too many adults is not the issue at her school.

On our school playground there are very few adults supervising the kids, and as they are mostly recruited parents, they don't seem well-equipped for the job, not that I blame them - I'm not either. (I do realize it once again comes down to money for schools, but from what I've seen the past few years recess and PE are not going to be a priority for schools any time soon.) If I just think about my own kids, one of them hates recess, the other loves it but so far has acquired bruised knees, scraped elbows and a serious bloody nose from a punch to the face. Isn’t it great they are left to their own devices at recess?

Now cuts, scrapes, bruises, even the occasional punch, I don’t have a problem with that. In fact I'm all for play fighting, superhero battles, pro-wrestling moves...it uses up a lot of energy and boy do my son and his friends love it. What concerns me is kids learning their limits need supervision, although I'll admit sometimes what that amounts to in my house is "you need to stop when Keegan gets hurt" or "I need you guys to do something for the next 10 minutes where nobody gets hurt."

My son’s teacher was “ blessed” with 7 (that's one-third), extremely active boys in her class. She confesses she cannot let them get away with the smallest infraction, because it sets up a chain reaction. One of Donovan’s early “goals” was to stop throwing himself on the floor (in his classic WWW move), as it caused the rest of the children to jump on him like a football pile. She’s great though, as she explains her reasoning to them, and understands they are active boys, not evil monsters like a preschool teacher seemed to believe. So naturally she wants them to get that energy out at recess.

One result of limited resources is the kinders are confined to small fenced-in playgrounds, and total chaos often ensues. Instead of a rousing game of chase or tackle basketball, they play who gets the ball or slide and who gets left out? It got to the point where the yard duty was literally afraid to watch these kids anymore, and out teacher was attempting to recruit a dad to take small groups out and run them around like a bunch of horses.

Why was she so afraid? That brings us to problem 2, the fighting. They aren't allowed to "horse around" leaving them with extra energy and aggression, and with minimal supervision, small problems escalate. Then you've got a fight, but instead of talking to the culprits to find out what happened, they are sent to the office since the lone yard duty can't ignore the other kids. Here's a recent example: Boy 1 left out of game by boy 2 and friends, boy 1 gets mad. Boy 1 pushes boy 2 from behind, boy 2 turns around, boy 1 punches him in nose, boy 2 punches boy 1 in stomach. Both hauled off to principles office and threatened with suspension, with very little discussion of the incident except between the parents of the offenders (shout-out to my husband who took care of the whole thing and only called me later). The punishment was reduced to spending two days in the office. Unfortunately the plan for the boys to actually play together in the office, which we parents thought was a grand idea, went awry when, ironically, they were told the sit in chairs quietly for the hour because nobody wanted to supervise their play and they weren't trusted to play on their own.

I worry that because these kids have punishments immediately thrust upon them without explanation, they don't really learn the proper responses. What should a kid do who's been left out of a game? What about a kid who's been punched in the nose? Clearly I don't all have the answers, and I certainly don't think a fancy private school would solve these problems. I'm just glad my husband was not only able to keep his cool when his son was nearly suspended for defending himself, but also managed to get all the blood out of the "Pizza My Heart" t-shirt.

Original Silicon Valley Moms Blog post

Nicole is the mom of two boys and spends a lot of time nursing wounds. She'll play football with them but refuses to join in the wrestling matches, although she's happy to document them on her blog Not Just a Working Mom.

Rules of Junior Fight Club, Don't Talk about Fight Club

This morning my mom called from a garage sale, a regular event with my kids and their grandparents. "We found a boxing set, gloves and chest guards, and wanted to know if you'd be okay if we bought them," says my mom, as my dad screams "NOOO" in the background. Told her I was fine with them, checked in with my husband who said it was great exercise. They didn't end up buying them, since there was only one pair of small gloves. "They'd have just fought over them, ha ha" joked I with Brian tonight.

As you may have guessed, we really don't have a problem with the kids fighting, or more accurately having a no holds barred boxing or wrestling match. It does get out a lot of energy, which my kids have in spades. Unfortunately, one, the same one, always gets hurt. Today Keegan jumped on Donovan, and next thing you know he's crying. Donovan was pushing him off and whacked him. I can't really blame Donovan for that. If you're going to jump on a toughie, better learn to take it. Keegan jumps right in again most of the time.

I know lots of well-meaning people don't allow this. My son's preschool teachers for one, who got upset that Donovan was "playing too aggressively" and once bopped a kid on the head. I told them I'd talk to him and things seem better. It turns out most of the time he is playing roughly with his best friend, who's smaller but even feistier, and it freaks out the teachers. I'm all for teaching my kids that different places have different rules, but this just seemed like overkill, so to speak. The other parents were constantly getting talked to about their son, and didn't accept the excuse that another kid might wander into the fray and get hurt. Both kids love going there, though, which is the important thing. The male teachers totally understand my tough little jock, love playing soccer with him, for which I am grateful.

The kids behave at playdates, really, adapting to the spirit of the kid. My son loves almost everybody and would never hurt them on purpose. It's just sometimes his form of affection is often the friendly jab to the arm or punch in the stomach. In fact he's got a sixth sense for those friendly uncle or dad-types who let the kids jump all over them at family gatherings, have kids hanging off each limb. I warn them, you give my son an inch better be ready for 50lbs of cuteness to launch himself at you.

Lately he's learning that there are limits. He asked if he was allowed to play "violent" with the legos, as two kids from Keegan's school came over the other day and they weren't. Honestly I don't care, although I do love the fact that my kids always insist on being the good guy, get quite upset if someone hands the a bad guy character to play. They've seen Transformers, Bourne Identity, Men in Black and Tom and Jerry. We only draw the line at violent video games, unless you count Wii boxing. I've knocked Donovan out enough that he refuses to play that with me, anyway.

G'Head, Hurl those Insults, Doesn't Bother Me

"I hate you!"

"I wanted it cut up."

"I didn't want it cut up"

"Why do we always have to walk the dogs?"

"We always go to this park."

"I'm not talking to you anymore."

"You are the meanest mommy in the world!"

Do those sound familiar? Only if you are a parent I guess. Then there are the grunts and silent treatment, all spurred on by some horrible fallacy such as not ever getting the puppy cup or having to eat breakfast. I get that a lot, and perhaps it's because I truly am the meanest mommy, but I'm going to hazard a guess I haven't quite earned that prestigious title. The other day my husband told me he gave the kids a little talking to, told them they had to stop being so mean to mommy. Sweet.

I'm not sure if this is a good thing, but it actually hardly phases me. And an added bonus is after one of these episodes, which with Donovan often culminates in a punch to the gut (he punching me, don't get your panties in a wad) I get spontaneous hugs and kisses, proclamations of love and "I'm speaking to you mommy" and "I'm your friend mommy" and a lot of "I love you."

I thought perhaps I was just getting used to it, realizing that kids have some inherent need to complain and vent, and mommy is a readily available and safe target so I shouldn't take it personally. To be honest a year ago you could find me screaming things like "fine, then we won't go to the park" or giving myself a timeout after a yelling fit, and I still am the ultimate crank when I'm forced to get up and 6am to referee a chocolate milk battle.

But after a grueling month at work, I realize I may have my job to blame thank for the thick skin. If I had a nickel for every time I said "I've been here for 13 years, I can take it" in response to sympathy from a co-worker. My most recent position came about as a result of a pretty major reorganization, and for some reason it helps people transition by having a weekly bitch-fest, often directed at me. The same complaints are rehashed so often I'm pretty much immune, and even occasionally amused.

There was a scene in the movie "Charlie Wilson's War" where Tom Hanks (Charlie Wilson) was meeting with Pakistani President Zia and found himself trying to be an understanding listener, while remaining loyal to his country, not having all the facts of the situation and not wanting to defend his country's position either. An outstanding balancing act by a compassionate if naive congressman. Obviously not on the same scale, but I was a meeting recently in that same position a table full of people complaining about something I was barely involved with, while I was trying to be understanding while supporting my co-workers without getting all defensive. I call it karma and figure it allows me to do my own whining.

On the other hand, perhaps it's just the anti-depressants finally kicking in.

When Animals Attack

One of my pups, Pele, has an arch enemy around the corner for some reason. It's a big ol' Malamute and they just can't stand each other. It's too bad, as their owners are the nicest couple, but all we can do is say hi on the way to our cars, since we basically have to plot out separate routes to avoid each other when walking the dogs. I cannot even walk the dogs around the path I'd taken for the months before they moved in. One of the kids left the door open once and Pele ended up tearing out, barking at the dog, going crazy. And if he gets near the apartment he lunges and barks at it, crazy dog.

So today I'm meandering along, and this giant blur comes tearing over, jumping on Pele. I swear he had Pele pinned down, just biting away (note, not really biting, just the way really aggressive dogs play). A year ago I probably would have run away screaming, today I held my ground, keeping a grip and just waiting for the poor owner to come get his dog. Okay, I got a small injury, I believe it was an invisible leash burn. The owner apologized profusely, but I waived it away. I've seen this dog around my kids, he's the calmest thing you've ever seen. One of those gentle giants. I really wasn't worried. No idea why Pele sets him off, but I suspect he's one of the few who would dominate Pele, and if they could just get it out of their system with a 10 minute romp, they'd probably be great friends. Don't think either Brian or the other's owner would want to take that risk. Pele was just tired after, not phased at all.

It's amazing how much more tolerant of "fighting" I've become since I've gotten dogs and now with the boys. After this little episode, Pele was wiped out. That is truly amazing exercise, even play fighting. The sounds and nips the dogs do scare some people (like my family) to death. I can't imagine what they'd think if they saw the wrestling going on around here ("talk to me when you're bleeding or stop playing" becomes my reply after the 5th complaint of injury). We can't take Pele to the dog park anymore, what with the homophobes worried their dog looks gay when they are being mounted by a male dog, to the ones who bring injured dogs then get all bent out of shape when another touches their precious pooch. I've been asked to move to another side of the park and my dogs have been yelled at so much we stopped going. It's too bad because he just can't get that kind of playing in the apartment or on a leash. I admit, Pele can be scary looking and sounding. He loves to bark, and when a tiny little battery powered version of a dog starts yapping away, he just has the look of "I could so eat you in two bites." As long as he doesn't have to establish his dominance he's cool, but he's got that little issue to resolve first.

Don't be a Hero

My son, my hero, has taken to defending his mommy from the evils of his older brother. Keegan and Donovan like to hurt me in different ways, which I'm sure is perfectly normal, but it really, really tries a mom's patience. It seems like every day Keegan has to go through a whiny, yelling and complaining stage to get him to do anything, from a trip to the aquarium to doing his homework. Today he was actually yelling at me - it was 4:30, they were about pass out from starvation and I would not let him have oreos as a snack while I made dinner - and Donovan went over and whacked him in the arm with a little lunch box.

Timeout! Donovan's got a bit of a hitting and hurting problem. He's the sweetest kid, constantly telling me how much he loves me, but he loves to do things like run up and whack us in the butt, slap my hand harder and harder (slapped me in the face once), and tonight he threw my glasses at me. It's not out of meanness, but it's damn annoying. So I dragged him into the bathroom and told him he was never allowed to hurt Keegan, even if he was saying something mean to mommy.

Fast forward to after the bath, Keegan tells one of his patented white lies - we were looking for my ring, I found it and asked him to pick it up. "I found it, I found it, mommy. If you pick it up, that means you found it." Bam - punched in the penis. Clearly my earlier instructions to Donovan had not sunk in. "Do NOT punch him in the penis," add that to the list of things I never thought I'd say. And we've had to say it more than once, I'm slightly ashamed to admit.

I've become a lot more tolerant of violence with two active boys in the house, but clearly this cannot go on. Any suggestions here?

Love Thursday: Lessons

I'm so glad one of my favorite bloggers, Karen Walrond of Chookooloonks, started Love Thursdays, and Mayasmom is keeping it up. Today's Love topic is lessons.


I figure since D loves to hit, he might as well learn to fight correctly, right? (Kidding)

Here he is with his 6YO cousin (she's my nephew's daughter, so I don't really know their relationship) throwing some punches. This is one of the games they decided on during our weekend at my nephew's FIL cabin in Utah. The kids had a blast and while M is totally accident prone, neither she nor her 2YO brother have any fear. K quit after about 10 seconds but D held his ground. It's probably good I didn't see much of this game or I probably would have stepped in, but no harm done, really. She's a better fighter, not sure where she's learning her moves but check out her little fists.