How to Be a Boy: Riding Your Bike to School

When you ride your bike to school, you have to have a lock to keep it from getting stolen. So bring a lock with you, and don't forget the key. Don't put the key on any kind of key chain, just throw it in your backpack. I'm sure it will be there when you need it.

When, after two weeks of riding your bike to school, you lose your key, call your mom to come pick you up and get the spare key from that drawer in your dad's dresser that holds spare change, spare business cards, spare parts, spare wristwatches and spare keys.

Listen to the lecture from your mom about using a key chain, always keeping your key in the same place, and being responsible. Say NO when she asks, "do we need to put it on a string around your neck?"

After 2 more weeks, lose the spare key.

Bonus - How to Be a Mom: Lecturing Your Son Who Lost his Last Bike Lock Key

"Well, I guess that's it. I knew we shouldn't have bought you such a nice bike. Why can't you be responsible? Didn't you have a key chain on that key? Didn't you put the key in the same place in your backpack every day? I knew I should have made you wear it on a string around your neck. I guess your bike will have to stay at school forever now. And it's supposed to rain this weekend. I think it's starting to rain now."

Extra Bonus - How to be a Dad: Cutting A U-Lock From Your Son's Bike

Check with co-workers who will tell you about the Bic Pen trick. Look it up on YouTube. Come home and find a Bic Pen and spend 15 minutes trying to pry the end off. Drive over to the school with the Bic Pen.

Come back home, have dinner, then google how to really get a u-lock off a bike. Go to Home Depot. Purchase a converter kit for your drill that makes it into an angle grinder for $8. Go back to the school and try and cut the lock off the bike with the angle grinder and your cordless drill. When the drill battery dies, go back to Home Depot. Purchase a power converter that hooks up to the car battery to power your corded drill for $80. Go back to the school in the dark and cut off the lock.

How to Be a boy: New Clothes

If you are a boy, do not, under any circumstances, go clothes shopping with your mom. In fact, pay no attention to your pants with rips in the knees and plenty of flood clearance. They're comfortable. Who cares what they look like.

So, when you come home from school and notice two new pairs of pants on your bed, do not acknowledge them. Later, when your mom asks you if you saw the pants, do not commit. You aren't sure. You can't remember. You'll go up and see in a little bit. As soon as you finish playing your game.

Let your mom ask you three more times if you've tried on the pants yet. But whatever you do, do not try on the pants.

At 10pm, your mom will head for bed. Act like you're listening when she begs you not to rip off the tags before trying the pants on, and nod when she asks you to tell her how they fit. Do not try the pants on. Do not move the pants off the bed.

Until it's time for you to get in bed. Then, wad the pants up and throw them into the corner of your room.

Tomorrow, when you get up. Put on your old pants with the rip and two inches of flood clearance.

It is raining, after all.

For more on how to be a boy:
How to extinguish a candle
How to eat popcorn
How to build a blanket fort
How to find your shirt
How to wait in line
How to Butter your bagel

How to be a Boy: Packing for Scout Camp (or, How to get Your Mom to Hem Your Pants at 10:45 pm)

You're going to Scout Camp! Prepare yourself for a week of maximum fun and minimum hygiene. All you have to do is gather some pants, socks, underwear, a toothbrush (Oh, who are we kidding. You're not going to brush your teeth) and your Boy Scout handbook and throw them all into a backpack. Does this task seem overwhelming? Well, that's because it is.

Why don't you sit down and play a few on-line games and let your dad do the dirty work. When he asks you to help, let him know you're confident he can handle packing. When he insists you come upstairs and find the flashlight and compass in your mess of a bedroom, give yourself about ten more minutes on the game and then walk slowly upstairs.

Stand at your bedroom door and scan the room for your flashlight and compass. You don't see it, of course. Your room is a mess. All you can see is dirty clothes, a couple empty chip bags, and every piece of the board game Risk. Go back downstairs to your computer game and let your dad finish up.

The night before you leave, stay up late watching TV even though you have to wake up at 4:30 am the next morning. Before you go to bed, rifle through the clothes on the floor to find something to wear the next day. Make sure that each item of clothing is official Boy Scout clothing even though official Boy Scout clothing is not mandatory.

When you notice you can't find your favorite official Boy Scout pants, interrogate your mom. She does the laundry after all. Where did she put it?

"I think dad packed your pants," she suggests. "Why don't you wear the official Boy Scout pants I bought you two months ago?"

"Those aren't official Boy Scout pants," you tell her. "They're blue, not green."

"But the tags say, 'official Boy Scout uniform,'" she says. "Why don't you just try them on?"

Do some huffing and puffing about trying on pants. Why does this have to be so hard? You have to get up early, after all. You don't have time for this. Start to try the pants on over your pajama bottoms, then huff a little more when your mom tells you to take your pj's off.

Well, look at that! The pants are too long. These will never work. "I'll have to tuck them into my shoes!" you complain. "Why did you pack my Scout pants anyway?"

There is no possible way you will be ready to go to Scout camp now. You might as well just not go!

"I'll hem the pants for you," your mom offers. "Just go to bed and I'll hem them for tomorrow."

Then go to bed and sleep well. You'll be going to Scout camp tomorrow.

How to Be A Boy: Waiting in Line

Standing in line goes against two very important boy laws:

Law #1 - Thou shalt not hold still

Law #2 - Thou shalt not have order

Thankfully, there are a few ways to get around violating these boy laws when you are forced to stand in a line.

First of all, make sure you are standing in line for a good reason. Waiting to get prizes with your Chuck E. Cheese tickets, or waiting for your mom to buy you some ice cream, or waiting to ride the Looping Thunder roller coaster are all good reasons to be in a line. A check-out line at the grocery store, a line to check in a the doctor's office, or a line to get into a museum are all bad lines. Avoid these lines if you can.

If you must stand in a line, don't hold still. Move constantly. Hop on one foot, and then the other. See how long you can stand on one foot without falling over. Fall over into the stranger standing next to you. Fall over again, just for the fun of it. If the floor is dirty, see if you can spend as much time as possible on it.

If you have a brother with you in line, you are in luck. Try and lift your brother, even if he is 20 pounds heavier than you. Then have him lift you. Try giving each other piggy back rides. Bump into strangers standing next to you. Give your brother a noogie. He will try and give you a noogie. Try and give your brother a Wet Willy. He will jump back, right into the stranger standing next to you. Tackle your brother to the floor to give him a Wet Willy.

If you are unlucky enough to have your mother in line with you, she may try to separate the both of you by standing in between you. This will never work. Just reach around your mother to try and hit your brother. Pay no attention to the looks you are getting from strangers, or the exasperated look on your mother's face.

And when you ask your mother to take you to Target, or Oaks Park, or Burger King, or any place that has a line, act surprised when she flatly refuses.

Not the Last Straw, But Definitely a Straw

This evening I read a Yahoo News article about a woman who went a whole year without wearing makeup. Imagine! A whole year. No make up. But that's not all. She also didn't wear jewelry and didn't use hardly any hair product.

The result: A book deal.

I, on the other hand, almost never wear makeup and jewelry. To wit, my ear piercings are practically closed up so that if I wanted to wear earrings, I would have to perform very minor home surgery before doing so. (Notice, I'm leaving out any mention of hair product here.)

The result: The only book deal I've gotten was when I purchased Is That a Word: The Weird and Wonderful Language of Scrabble for 35% off the cover price.

The worst part is I can't help but think that the "doing something for a year and then writing about it" boat has sailed. And I missed it.

Just like I missed the "monetize your blog" boat and the "make money selling crap on Ebay" boat.

I made Jell-o every week for a long time and blogged about it, but I don't have a book deal for that. I also wrote some very helpful instructions on how to be a boy which I have on good authority would make a wonderful book. Almost as good as I could Pee on This and Other Cat Poems, I have in fact been assured.

(Yes. Someone actually pretended they were a cat writing poems about peeing on stuff and got a book deal.)

However, I am nothing if not introspective. I know, deep down, what the problem is. I've always known what the problem is. It's that I don't flirt. I refuse to flirt. I want to be recognized for my own merits and personality. Not because I degraded myself (read: make eye contact with, speak to, or in any way acknowledge another person) to get someone's attention.

This has been, in fact, more than just an idea. It's been my personal life policy: I will stand over here, against this wall, where I blend in almost perfectly, and not say a word. And the right person will notice me from across the room and somehow be able to see my talent and ability coming off me in waves of pure light without me having to say anything at all. And I will get a book deal and be the next JK Rowling.

No begging, no rejection, no humiliation.

(And here, I can hear the voice of  Dr. Phil saying: How's that workin' for ya?)

No book deal, Dr. Phil.

And so, to the woman who didn't wear make up for a year and wrote a book about it I have this to say: Your stupid experiment is a straw--not the last straw--but a substantial, longish straw that will motivate me to take a risk or two. To at least get myself closer to that dock from where all the boats are leaving.

(Seriously? No makeup gets you a book deal?)

How to Be a Boy: Shopping for Clothes with Your Mom

When your mom says she needs to buy you new clothes and asks you to go with her, your first response will naturally be a primal one: fight or flight. In an effort to save yourself, you might feel a rise in adrenaline. Maybe a sweat will start to break out as you look for the nearest exits. You might consider playing dead.

The bad news is you can't get out of clothes shopping with your mom. The good news is there are a few strategies that when used correctly, just might make this clothes shopping trip the last one you ever have to go on.

Don't Wear Socks

To avoid having to spend minutes trying on shoes you don't really want anyway, simply don't wear socks. Make sure you have long pants on so your mom can't see you're bare ankles. When your mom asks you to sit down and try on a pair of pinchy, fussy dress shoes, just kick off one of your sneakers and wait for her reaction. Trust me; it will almost make all this shopping torture worth it.

Insist on a Mom-free Dressing Room

Under no circumstances should you allow your mother in the dressing room with you. She will plead and beg and tell you she's your mother for crying out loud, but do not give in. Even if she loudly proclaims that she used to wipe poop off your bare bottom and should be able to watch you try on a shirt and pants, hold firm. This little tactic will set you up perfectly for the next weapon in your arsenal.

Do Not Undress

Taking off your clothes is such a pain. Don't do it. You should be able to get every article of clothing your mom wants you to try on over the stuff you are already wearing. Plus, when you open the dressing room door to show your mom how well the new button down dress shirt fits over the top of your Old Navy skull and crossbones t-shirt, the look on your mom's face will almost make up for the poop-on-the-bare-bottom comment she made earlier.

Self-induced Nausea

If clothes shopping with your mom does not bring on the heaves, then having your nose in your iPod Touch/Nintendo DS/et al during the car ride to the store should do the trick. Don't look up, whatever you do, and no cracking the window for fresh air. If you still don't feel sick when you get to the store, bring your device with you into the store and keep your head down in concentration as you walk from department to department. As soon as you feel the least bit queasy, complain loudly and often that you feel like you're going to throw up.

The trick is to make your mother as miserable about shopping with you as you are about shopping with her. If these tips don't get you out of all future clothes shopping trips, it should be a long, long time before you are subjected to another.

Reasons to Never Leave the House

It’s been really cold here in Portland. Not Minnesota cold, or Alaska cold, and thank goodness not North Dakota cold. We’ve had lows in the 20’s and while our highs have been in the 40’s, before you call me a weather wimp, let me add that it’s been quite windy. So, those of you in Minnesota, help me out here: Doesn’t that wind add a certain factor to the temperature. Wait, it’s coming to me…a wind chill factor!

Last night on the news one Portlander was interviewed about the weather. Her comment: There is NO bad weather, only bad clothing choices. Hmm. I guess I have made bad clothing choices then because I have no desire to step outside. It’s a shame too because for the first time in months, it’s not rainy.

I forced myself to run to Old Navy to find some church khakis for Jonah who came home with a hole in the knee of his church pants last Sunday. (Strangely, it was Isaac who had a scabby knee while Jonah’s knee appeared to be fine.)

Also on my list were a couple of sweater vests for church, church shoes and possibly socks. Here’s what I found at 3 different stores:

Old Navy—I can’t complain about Old Navy’s prices. I can complain about their selection. They must have been clearing out to make room for the spring line because, it’s 20 degrees with a wind chill factor and that means it’s time to sell bikini bathing suits, flip flops and tank tops.

Old Navy carries approximately 5 times as many girl clothes as they do boy clothes. I’m not even exaggerating. So, even though there were racks and racks of sale clothes for kids, there was very little square footage dedicated to the boys. (Like 10 square feet…I did the math).

Miraculously, I was able to find a pair of khakis in Jonah’s size that were, drum roll please, on sale. After the discount I paid $4.24. I also picked up a cute sweater for me for $8.50.

Ross—I don’t know why I torment myself by going into Ross. If I were to actually find what I was looking for, I’d be subjected to the world’s slowest check-out line. It doesn’t matter if there is one person in front of you or ten. It can be slow cashiers, customers who are arguing the last dollar off a $2 Betty Boop, sequined throw pillow or, heaven help you, both.

If Old Navy has 5 to 1 girl clothes to boy clothes, Ross is 10 to 1. What is the deal? Don’t the 7 year old sweat shop kids in Thailand and Bangladesh know how to make things for boys? Just to torture myself, I made my way over to where the boy’s clothes should be and found 2 racks with about ½ a rack’s worth of stuff on them: mostly jeans that would fit middle schoolers. I didn’t see any boys shoes.

Famous Footwear—With approximately 5,839 different shoes in the entire store, Famous Footwear had just 2 styles of boy’s dress shoes. One pair was black and shiny and stiff like plastic. The other was brown and thick soled, and would have been perfect for parents trying to make their kids taller so they’d get on rides at Disneyland. I got neither.

Back at home, I spent 10 minutes checking out a few different on-line stores and purchased 2 sweater vests from Hannah Andersen; sale priced at $12 each, thank you very much.

So, lame stores with poor selection, you have forced me to make a choice and I don’t choose you!

Stuff I Learned from Having Boys: YouTube

My kids have been an education. I've learned many of the regular things you'd expect a mom of 3 boys to learn: always keep plenty of baking soda and vinegar in the house, make sure you check behind the bed for dirty underwear on laundry day, and anything can be turned into a weapon.

I've also learned a few lessons I never could have predicted. For example, there are kids who make videos while they open packages of Pokemon cards and then post those videos to YouTube. I guess the real shocker isn't so much that people make these videos, but that other people actually watch them. 

Here are a few YouTube video series I never would have heard about if it were not for my boys.

Will It Blend - Nerdy blender scientist blends all kinds of cool stuff in his pricey Blendtec blender. Stuff like an iPhone 3G, glow sticks, golf balls, a crowbar, a Wii remote--you know, stuff you really need to reduce to dust. My favorite episode is the Old Spice episode, but you really need to watch some of the other ones to understand the humor before you enjoy a bottle of Old Spice being blended. There is one thing that won't blend, however.

Is it a Good Idea to Microwave This? - In the same vein as "Will it Blend," but with young men in their 20's who either have a very forgiving mother, or who are totally destroying their frat house basement*. This show has been banned in our house because the teens use PG13 language while they hide behind a tinfoil door and watch what happens when they microwave Nerf guns, paint balls, fire crackers and more.

Fred - If you haven't seen "Hey, It's Fred," count yourself lucky. Some fourteen year old boy has created what might possibly be the most annoying character in the history of characters. Fred Figglehorn is a 6 year old boy with a helium balloon voice and a raging case of ADHD (emphasis on the H). The videos are fairly benign, until your 8 year old begins to talk like Fred. Then you have problems. Here's Fred getting a haircut. Word on the street is that Fred is getting his own movie. (Scholars of The Bible will surely recognize this as one of the signs of the apocalypse.)

The Annoying Orange - The biggest thing Annoying Orange has going for it is that it's not Fred. If Fred and the Annoying Orange ever got together it's possible the result would be an effective form of torture.

KipKay Hacks - This guy tells how to take regular stuff around the house, take it apart and put it back together to do something completely different. Make the world's loudest alarm clock, a high powered t-shirt launcher or learn how to build a laser guided sling shot.

There is one series of videos Ethan likes made by a boy who reviews different electronic gadgets with his cat puppet sidekick. They have amazing repartee.  

However, I think I've reached my limit for boy videos tonight. Jonah is still channeling Fred and I have a bit of a headache.

*I've recently learned that the microwave testing is all done outside. You can learn more by checking out the comment I received from Jonny Paula in the comments section. 

Mind the Gap

Jeggings are not a product of The Gap

My suggestion for induction into fashion's Hall of Shame: Jeggings. Not familiar with Jeggings? They are leggings that look like jeans. They are made of lycra or spandex or some unidentifiable material that fell from space. They look good on .1% of the population, but the other 99.9% will be the ones to wear them.

See, the problem with last seasons hot newcomer to the jean scene, Skinny Jeans, is they left too much to the imagination (i.e. how could anyone be sure a skinny-jean-wearer really had knees and ankles.) The other problem with skinny jeans, of course, is that not everyone was able to get them buttoned.

Not a problem with Jeggings--no buttons required.

I ran into my first Jeggings today when I went to the mall. I was kind of excited because I went down a size in pants. (Yay Game On!) Please understand, I have no illusions that this new pant size is one I will be able to maintain long term. However, it's only the second time since I was 16 that I've been this size, so I thought a new pair of jeans was deserved. Even if I only fit into them for 3 weeks.

I passed the Jeggings and went to The Gap to take advantage of their "tall" sized jeans. If' I'm going to spend $70 on a new pair of jeans I will only fit into for 3 weeks, they better not be floods. The Gap had this new sizing with strange numbers and I couldn't understand what I was looking at, so I got some help from an employee.

Boy was she helpful. She kept calling me honey and steered me away from the straight legged jeans, which is what I wanted, to the Long and Lean jeans, which give the wearer the illusion of being long and lean. (Did I not look long and lean enough already? Really. My legs are freakishly long, I don't need any help making them look longer.) I tried them on in a size SMALLER than what I wore in high school. I was not fooled by The Gap's "vanity sizing." Like a smaller number will make me feel more lean? (It did.)

Next up, the Sexy Boot jean. The helpful gal shoved 3 different sizes in my arms and a couple more pairs of Long and Lean. I tried to steer her over to the Straight jeans, but she would have none of it. "Lift up your shirt" she said so she could get a look at my waist. "Now turn around." She actually said I had no butt. "I can't sell you these jeans unless I get a good look at them on," she said.

The jeans fit fine, although they were too flared at the bottom (I wanted Straight cut jeans!), but the hips and thighs were about as tight as could be. It was like they were sprayed on. Like they were Jeggings! One cookie and these pants would no longer fit me.

"That's exactly how they are supposed to fit," she said. "If I were you, I' would buy these pants, and I'm not saying that because I work on commission. I would buy these pants and take them home and sit down and watch a movie and just see how comfortable they are. I guarantee you, you will be back next week to buy two more pair."

I just want a pair of pants that have a little room. I may be the same size I was when I was 16 (in pants, not taking into account that what once was my 16 year old size has now been vanity sized down) but I don't want to look like I'm trying to be a 16 year old. No offense to 16 year-olds.

I got two t-shirts instead.

In Which I Get Graphic

It can be a challenge to get boys to read. So when Jonah and Isaac were fighting over a book the other night, I admit to feeling proud instead of annoyed. And last night, when Jonah wouldn't put down his book at dinner, I kept quiet.

In the past graphic novels and comics have been sidelined and shunned. Thankfully, though, they're now starting to gain acceptance among educators, librarians and parents as legitimate forms of literature.  I might not be able to get my kids to sit down and read through one of the several Newbery books on my shelf, or any one of the other fabulous books I know they'd love, but they will willingly pick up a graphic novel and sit and read--sometimes for twenty minutes!

How can I complain about that?

Here are a few of their favorites.

Warriors Series - These are based on the chapter books by the same name. There are cats that do things and I'm not sure what those things are, but Jonah couldn't read the 9 books fast enough. Many nights he was reading these in bed with a flashlight. And of course I did not make him turn it off.

Squish - Portland illustrator Matthew Holm visited Jonah and Isaac's school and we got signed copies of Squish 1 and 2. Isaac is eagerly awaiting the arrival of Squish 3 in the mail. There are science experiments in the back of each book.

Meanwhile - This was the book Jonah and Isaac were fighting over and I know exactly why. It's a visual "choose your own adventure book" with lines or tubes to follow to take you to the tab that will reveal the end of your story. Super fun.

Big Nate - This appears to be a rip off of the Wimpy Kid books, but Jeff Kinney himself offered a blurb for the front cover, so they have his stamp of approval. Best of all, there are lots of books in the series. I've counted about 9.

Wimpy Kid - Duh

Astronaut Academy Zero Gravity - Who wouldn't want to read about space school? My teenager seems to like this one better than the younger boys.

Knights of the Lunch Table - My 10 year old liked this one better than the 8 year old. They're short and quick reads. It looks like there are 5 books in the series so far.

Daniel Boom: Loud Boy - I don't know what this one is about, but I'm guessing there is a loud kid involved. And Jonah liked it, so maybe your boy will like it too.

Dragonbreath - This probably isn't technically a graphic novel. There are more words than pictures. But  my boys can't get enough. With titles like "Attack of the Ninja Frogs," "Lair of the Bat Monster," and "Curse of the Were-wiener," how can you go wrong?

Bone - An adventure series that Jonah loved. He read every book.

Comic Compilations:
Zits: The life and times of a lazy, but lovable teenage boy.
Foxtrot: The life and times of a geeky but lovable young boy and his family.
Calvin and Hobbes: The life and times of a precocious, but lovable kid and his imaginary tiger friend.
Garfield: The life and times of a fat but lovable cat with attitude and his pathetic human.
Dilbert: The life and times of an engineer. And he's lovable

How To Be A Boy: Eating Popcorn

For boys, eating popcorn is much more than the simple enjoyment of a light snack. Eating popcorn is a study in chaos theory, social behavior and the limits of maternal sanity. If you want to eat popcorn like a boy make sure you master the following techniques:

1. Use your hand to grab as much popcorn you can from the popcorn bowl. It helps if your hand is dirty from digging for worms or trying to catch tadpoles in the pond.

2. Shove the popcorn into your mouth. Your goal should be to get about 40% of the popcorn from your hand into your mouth. While it's fine to load up your mouth so that chewing becomes almost impossible, you will need to save at least half of each handful for step #3.

3. Allow excess popcorn to fall wherever it may. Try not to think too much about where your popcorn is falling. If you need to go to the bathroom, eat popcorn on the way and leave a popcorn trail on the carpet. If you are eating on the couch, make sure you shift positions every once in a while so popcorn has a better chance of falling between the cushions. If you are eating outside, a 5 foot radius of popcorn spillage is a good popcorn eating result.

4. If your mother has told you that under no circumstances should you ever play in the car, consider getting in the parked car to eat and spill your popcorn.

5. If chewing popcorn becomes tiresome, consider spitting chewed-up popcorn onto your mom's parked car. Just make sure you make it worth your while and cover as much of the car as you can with chewed-up, spit-out popcorn.

6. When you are finished eating popcorn, dumping the "duds" out onto the carpet or ground adds a nice finishing touch.

7. When you are done, do not concern yourself with the massive popcorn mess you have just created. Think nothing of it. Clear your mind as if it never happened and does not exist. Move on to your next activity with gusto and a clear conscience.

8. When your mother comes out and asks "Who is responsible for this mess?" you must act completely flummoxed. When she clarifies by adding, "this popcorn mess," it is acceptable to pretend that you might just possibly understand what she is talking about, if only she could give you another hint.

When she yells, "Here!! In the garage!" go ahead and acknowledge the popcorn scattered all over the garage floor. Do not tell her that it doesn't look like a mess to you. And please don't point out that the masticated popcorn drying on the side of the car will probably come off the next time it rains.

Go ahead and sweep the spilled popcorn into a little pile on the driveway, but don't throw the pile out. Ask any 10 year old boy and he will tell you: the popcorn fairy will come along soon and take care of everything, don't you know!

On Organization

One of my children has a birthday in March. He's had his guest list made out since August. Yesterday he pulled out that guest list, which, I might add, he knew exactly where to find, and went over the names of invitees to make necessary changes (a couple new friends have been made and one moved away). He then began to make another list. A list of things we would need for the party. The Harry Potter party.

15 boy gift bags

3 girl gift bags

18 wands

18 ring pops

18 pencils

1 cake

Did I mention his birthday is in March?

Another child is not so organized. He doesn't write things down. He doesn't put things away. He has trouble finding things not only because he can't remember where he put them, but also because he has no idea how to look for them. Really. No idea. If it's not 2 inches in front of his face, it might as well be on Mars. He does his homework, but doesn't turn it in because he either left it at home or lost it somewhere else. He loses coats, lunch boxes, water bottles and bike lock keys. His bedroom is a disaster.

His parent teacher conference was not very positive. His lack of organization is affecting his grades and everything else he does.

After getting this feedback, I came home and ordered Organizing the Disorganized Child from Amazon. It may just be the first of many books I read on the subject, but I'm determined to figure out how to help my kid. It has become clear that his brain is taking a different path from A to B that mine is. I have to figure out what that path is so I can walk it with him and help him learn how to organize.

Darn you underdeveloped frontal lobe!!!

The book outlines 3 different organizational styles with a list of behavioral traits to determine which style your child fits into: visual, spatial and chronological. Ethan didn't seem to fit into any one category. There were things I identified with him in each category. But the thing that really got me confused was that each list contained a similar statement: My child feels disorganized when their work area is...

I don't believe my child feels disorganized. I feel like he is oblivious to any kind disorder around him other than when he is looking for something and can't find it. He doesn't care that he lives and sleeps in squalor; that there is a Twix bar wrapper with a bit of caramel stuck to his pillow case, or that he's put wet clothes into his laundry basket 4 days ago and something is starting to smell, or that his floor is covered with dirty socks, Legos, Nerf darts and weeks of school papers, some of which are important, others which are not.

I know he doesn't like the consequences of his disorganization, but I'm pretty sure he is not making the connection that being organized would get rid of those consequences. Because if he was making that connection, wouldn't he try to be organized? How hard can it be to put your bike key in your backpack? Or your candy wrapper in your garbage can? Or your assignments in your student planner?

I just don't understand.

How To Be a Boy: Extinguishing a Candle

Anyone can blow out a candle with their breath. There's no challenge there. Why not try to extinguish a candle more creatively? How about trying to shoot out the flame with the Nerf N-Strike Recon Dart Blaster?

If you are a boy, the most important part of extinguishing a candle flame with a dart blaster is not to think anything through. Just do it. If you think ahead even the slightest, you might realize that your mom has just spent 30 minutes cleaning the bathroom. The towels are clean, the mirror; spotless, the counters; shining.

You might also notice that there is quite a deep pool of liquid wax in the candle; enough to make a big, hot splash.

If you'd ever in your life cleaned up spilt wax, you might stop for a moment and think about how difficult it can be. You might reflect on the time involved it will take to clean up a mess, should any hot, melted candle wax splatter when your dart blasts into the flame.

Whatever you do, do not think of any of these things. Just act.

Ooops. That made a mess, didn't it?

Well, just take the clean towel and wipe it up. Hmmm--the towel doesn't seem to be very effective; kind of spreading the wax around more than wiping it up, isn't it.

Well, don't worry. Just leave the towel in a heap on the counter and look for something else exciting to shoot with your dart blaster.

How to Be a Boy: Going Number One

The urge to urinate will, undoubtedly come at the most inopportune times. Who can spare 30 seconds during an exciting game of hide and seek, while building the perfect sandcastle, or during your favorite commercial for cold cereal that you've only seen 48 times?

When Mother Nature calls, one must answer--or pay the embarrassing and wet consequences.

Here are some places that, as a boy, you might find useful for relieving yourself.

Port-a-Potty - Conveniently located just about anywhere, porta-potties have the curious ability to make younger boys suddenly have the urge to pee just so they can get into that foul and mysterious blue box.

The Front Yard - Make sure you choose to pee in the front yard around 5:30 pm when all the moms and dads are coming home from work. When your mom finds you with your pants down peeing into her azalea bush, claim you were trying to kill a slug.

The Bath or Shower - Hey, it all goes to the same place, right?

In the Car - As a boy, you can do something girls can't: Pee into an empty water bottle in a moving car. With great power, comes great responsibility. Make sure you get that lid on tight.

In the Snow - Must I explain this one?

With Your Friends - What's better than one erratic stream of urine hopelessly missing it's mark? Three!

The following locations might seem like an obvious choice for going to the bathroom, since they are in fact bathrooms, but don't be fooled. They are substandard urination locations and should be avoided.

A Toilet in Your Home - First you have to lift the seat and then you are required to get your pee into one central location without going out of bounds or splashing. Way too much work. Plus, the toilet is disgusting! What is all that yellow stuff on the rim anyway?

The School Bathroom - It smells weird, even when clean. There is always one kid who forgets to flush when, for the love of Pete, he should have flushed. And even though you have no problem peeing in the front yard, a urinal just seems too public.

The Fourteenth Day of Christmas Break

This morning, right before I woke up at 6:45 to get ready for church, I had this dream:


I was visiting a private Christian K-12 school with the particular intention of talking to someone about their policy of not checking out books about the Bible (in this case, Noah and the Ark) to Mormons. Their explanation was that Mormons were not Christians and therefore would not be allowed to check out books about the Bible. I arrived at the school and found a quiet place to sit down and work on my laptop while I waited to speak with someone in charge. I had to go to the bathroom and since there happened to be one in the corner of the room, and since I was the only one in the room, and since I knew I could go quickly, I decided to leave my laptop where it was and go. 


When I came out, I saw an androgynous sort of girl in a wheelchair waiting for the bathroom. I apologized for taking so much time (I was having a hard time getting my new size 8 jeans to button up, which is TOTALLY not the case in real life, yay!) and she said it was OK. I finished and when I returned to the spot where I'd left the computer, it was gone.  


I was infuriated! My computer had been stolen at a private Christian school in the few seconds I was in the bathroom. CHRISTIANS! How could they! They wouldn't even let me check out a book about Noah from their library on their high-faulting moral grounds and then one of them stole my beloved laptop. Who wasn't acting like a Christian now? (Soon to be me.)


I found a nice girl who said she'd take me from room to room to see if we could find out where my computer went. She did, but it was a joke. We were going to the kindergarten room and the 1st grade room. I knew they didn't take my laptop. I told her I'd seen a girl in a wheelchair and she got a look on her face like she knew just who I was talking about. She told me to wait in the hall and went into a room.


She was there for a long time and after a while I went in. There was a chubby boy who I then realized had been pretending to be the girl in a wheelchair earlier. "Give me my laptop." I demanded.  


"OK, alright, I've got it here somewhere." He said, and started looking for it around the room.


"Get it for me now!" I said. He was stalling, but why? I knew he had it.


"OK," he said again and started to circle the room around a big main table in the center. He reached down into one of the many backpacks and shoulder bags laying around and pulled out 2 small cards. I knew he was trying to distract me and appease me with something else and suddenly I knew what it was!


"If that is a coupon for a free smoothie at Jamba Juice," I said, "I'm going to punch you in the face! Give me my computer!" Chubby froze, then slowly lowered his hand, and the cards, back into the bag, hiding the cards from my sight. No sudden movements. "Give me my laptop! Give it to me now!" I said.


And then I woke up.

How To Be a Boy: Building a Blanket Fort

Step 1: Wait until your mom has spent no less than 3 hours cleaning the house

Step 2: Go to the linen closet and remove everything that looks sheet-like by pulling neatly folded stacks from each shelf onto the floor. Don't miss great grandma's white tablecloths.

Step 3: If you've pulled down a fitted sheet, wad it back up and shove it on the floor of the linen closet. Fitted sheets are NOT blanket fort building material.

Step 4: Build fort. Stacks of books make great sheet anchors, so feel free to remove all the books from the bookshelves.

Step 5: Play in the fort for 5 minutes to 3 hours. Make sure to end blanket fort play-time by getting into a huge fight with your brothers.

Step 6: Whatever you do, do not clean up the blanket fort.

Step 7: When your mom insists, wad sheets, tablecloths and anything else you've used and shove it into the linen closet. Close door as far as it will go. You're done.

Even more "How To Be a Boy" goodness here:
Loading the dishwasher
Eating popcorn
Wrapping a birthday present
Taking out the garbage

The Good Old Days, With a Side of Coulrophobia

I'm looking for vintage pictures of boys for a book I'm putting together of all my "How To Be A Boy" posts. I'm searching for pictures of boys being boys: getting dirty, playing with bugs, getting into trouble, with grass-stains and holes in their pants, swimming, fishing, camping and anything else that is quintessentially boy.

And then I found this.

The thing that strikes me most about this picture is the boy: he seems so pleased to be sitting next to this nightmare personified. Meanwhile, the clown has that far-a-way look in his eyes, like he's just imagining what this kid will taste like medium-rare. Sorry, it's true. Look at those eyes!

I guess there was a time when creepy clowns were not creepy (Probably around the same time eating meat and vegetable-filled Jell-o was the norm). Instead, they possessed had magical healing properties. Or maybe the prevailing wisdom was that a grown man in face paint would simply scare the sick out of any hospital-bound child.

However, no sugar-coated explanation can distract from the creep-factor in this kid. You might be able to convince someone this was just how they did things back in the 60's. Clowns were cool. Clowns were The Thing. That somehow, even with this kid's I'll-see-you-in-your-nightmare smirk, clowns were nothing to be afraid of. 

Until he picks up the gun.

Sweet dreams!

How to be a Boy: Garbage Day

Three neighbors are out of town and our family was asked to take their garbage out in their absence. So last night, I pulled many garbage and yard waste recycling bins down to the curb. I did not, however, take out our family’s garbage and yard waste recycling bins. That's Ethan’s job.

It’s not a hard job, but evidently it is tedious and highly inconvenient because Ethan usually waits until the very last possible minute of the day to take the garbage to the curb. Sometimes he’s already wearing his pajamas and slippers when he embarks on this weekly task.

Last week when Ethan took the garbage out, the neighborhood was treated to a sneak peek at the contents of my bathroom wastebasket. Nothing like having a slew of embarrassing personal items scattered in the street. Right in front of our house.

And when I say embarrassing, I am talking about things like waxy, yellow Q-tips, strings of used dental floss, a large wad of hair pulled from my hair brush, those little plastic disposable razor covers, conspicuous, “feminine” pastel packaging, and several little toilet paper wrapped, “bundles.” Right in front of our house.

How could this possibly happen?

I’d asked Ethan to empty the 2 upstairs bathroom wastebaskets before taking the garbage bin to the curb, but he’d forgotten. Not wanting to let him out of the chore, I told him to dump the bathroom trash into a plastic bag, then bring it out to the garbage bin already on the curb.

Evidently these instructions were too confusing, too difficult, or completely ignored because Ethan ended up hand carrying the two bathroom wastebaskets out to the curb, trailing used Q-tips and dental floss through out the house (because the wastebaskets were really full and it’s just hard to carry two at a time AND hold your nose from the offensive odor AND try and open the front door at the same time.)

Once he'd made it to the curb, he opened the lid of the garbage bin. Whether or not he noticed that it was already full to the top is still unclear. What is clear, however, is that he took the first wastebasket (mine) and up-ended it over the garbage bin. To be fair, about 10% of the bathroom wastebasket contents did actually make it into the garbage bin. The rest, of course: Right in front of our house.

This week I made sure those bathroom wastebaskets were emptied, the contents tied up in a plastic bag, and securely sequestered somewhere in the middle of the garbage bin before Ethan took the garbage out.

Lesson learned.

The Dangerous Book for Parents

Have you seen this book? "The Dangerous Book For Boys" is the best-selling book created by two brothers who felt the over-protective "rules and safety" environment we were creating for our children (more specifically, our boys) was doing them no favors. Inspired by the idea that boys need to test their limits and occasionally fall off things, this book contains plenty of vital information all boys need to know.

There is a section on how to tie knots and what each knot is used for. There are directions for how to build a tree house and a go cart. The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World are described, with color pictures. The book even has poetry every boy should know, including "If" by Rudyard Kipling (my personal favorite.)

Ethan was immediately drawn, however, to the section describing the rules of poker. After reading through the material several times, Ethan announced he wanted to play poker. To be fair, the authors do a great job of helping the reader understand the risk of playing poker. I believe their suggestion had to do with finding a good charity to donate to if you felt you had a bunch of money you didn't need.

Ethan was insistent that we play poker, so Sunday after noon, we played poker. Ethan loved it. When Ethan suggested we play poker for Family Home Evening on Monday night, Robert and I felt Ethan needed a little more education on poker.

"Poker is a game of chance, like playing the lottery or gambling," I told Ethan. "You really shouldn't ever play for money."

"Isn't Bunco gambling?" Ethan quickly shot back.

I was a little flustered. "Well, uh, that's different, because, uh....tell him why it's different Robert."

I swear Robert had a smug little look on his face. He was no help.

"It's like I'm paying for dinner, kind of," I offered Ethan, "with gifts...that are sometimes great and sometimes less great."

Ethan lost interest in my Bunco rationalization and turned his attention to Robert. "What about mutual funds?" (Mutual Funds!!! Where in the world did he learn about mutual funds? He's only 9...I don't think I knew about mutual funds until I was in my 20's.)

Now it was Robert's turn to think quickly as he tried to justify, I mean explain, the difference between investing and gambling.

Anyway, "Dangerous Book for Boys," thanks a lot. It would have been slightly easier if Ethan ripped his pants learning how to climb a fence or skinned his knee jumping out of a tree.

More Book Chat

I think the reason Gary D. Schmidt doesn't have a blog or fancy schmancy website (that I can find) is because he's too busy writing amazing books. I did find an interview with Mr. Schmidt done by Publisher's Weekly about "The Wednesday Wars."

I just finished reading Trouble and I loved it. This author has a knack for letting his characters shine under the worst circumstances while not making them seem implausible or preachy. My favorite example of this is in "Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy", but "Trouble" certainly has it's share of beautiful, pivotal moments.

I do wish he had a blog or website though because other than a Wikipedia entry, his bio on his publisher's web site, and a fun info pack for educators, there really isn't much out there about Gary D. Schmidt.

Moving on...

I held off reading Stephenie Meyer's "The Host" because I was pretty sure I was going to be disappointed. I hate to say it, but I didn't think she could pull it off and I didn't want Stephenie to come down from that little pedestal I'd put her on back when I read about her in BYU Magazine in February of 2007. It's a little pedestal, but I like her there.

Even though I had my very own signed copy of "The Host" I hesitated. But finally, after getting some pretty great feedback from trusted friends and fellow readers, I dove in. I have to say, the first few chapters were hard for me to get into, just because I was having to adjust to the future world where aliens have invaded and almost overtaken the human race.

By chapter three, however, I was securely hooked into the 600+ page story. I rolled over in bed Monday morning and picked up the book and started reading. I read and read, barely stopping until 5pm that afternoon when I kind of had to make dinner, since I felt bad about letting the kids forage for food during breakfast and lunch.

Long story short, I loved the book. While Stephenie may not be a master of prose like some, she has a talent for creating engaging, vivid characters. I become invested in them, sucked into their world and desperate to find out what happens to them. I love it.

Finally...
I read M.T. Anderson's "Feed" which I heard about at the SCBWI conference a couple weeks ago from Kirby Larson. This book portrays a high tech, disturbing, but somehow believable future world where everyone (well, almost everyone) gets an information feed chip placed in their brain at birth. Music, TV, advertising, communication is all tailored specifically to each individual and is broadcast to them continuously. Trends change hourly. The most popular reality show is "Oh, Wow, Thing!"

It was kind of creepy to see how our current society might be just steps away from the world of "Feed." Tonight I found myself wishing that I could ping my boys at the playground to tell them to come home instead of going out into the backyard and hollering for them.

Not just a comment on a sensory overloaded society, but the way that overload alters our relationships with others, Feed reminded me slightly of Scott Westerfeld's "Extras" and maybe even Conor Kostick's "Epic."

As a warning, Feed has a massive amount of swearing, and not to sound like I'm rationalizing, but it was clearly used to illustrate the downfall of verbal communication.

What's next?
Well, at the library today I finally got "A Sweet Far Thing" by Libba Bray, the 3rd and final (I think) book in the Gemma Doyle story. Also in the bag is a book from one of the Longstockings authors: "The Thing About Georgie" by Lisa Graff. I'm not sure where I heard about "Blue Like Friday" by Siobhan Parkinson, but it looks good, and I'm guessing I heard about "Savvy", by Ingrid Law, from Fuse #8.

Happy reading!