Posted by Catherine, the redhead mom blogger on Feb 21, 2010 in Puzzled
Brian have you fed the dog?
My feet are cold.
—
Brian can you take the garbage out now?
There’s something weird on the floor over here.
—
Brian is your homework done?
We had to run the mile in PE today.
—
Brian, can you come lift this for me?
Did Alex call?
—
Brian, we need to be leaving now. Are you ready?
Mom, John said he could beat me arm wrestling at school, but he couldn’t, and Mrs. Lewis said we weren’t funny. But it was, you know? And then I said hey, and he said hey. (laughter) So funny huh mom?
—
Brian how are your grades in school?
I’m hungry.
—
Brian how was school today?
My back itches.
—
Or should I just be grateful he is talking to me at all?
Posted by Catherine, the redhead mom blogger on Aug 9, 2009 in Puzzled
Two cute girls spot Brian and George in the store. The boys don’t spot them as they are busy looking at gaming magazines. (This is a shock to you I am sure).
“Hi George. Hi Brian”
Breathless teenage girl voices cut the space across the floor between them.
George and Brian glance up – for a moment they seem paralyzed. They grunt out something along the lines of this barely audible sound:
“Hummm.”
“Huhhmm.”
They hardly seem to glance up from the magazine.
The girls giggle and walk away.
I approach the boys.
“You know it wouldn’t have hurt you two to put down the magazine and say “HI!” to those girls back there.
“What? We did!”
“Yeah Mom we said hi!”
I guess I just don’t know the language of teenage boy hellos.
Now that my son has decided to play high school football (it’s OK I will still make him take dance lessons – I am the redheaded mom) I find all the boys have nicknames for each other. Brian is Little Cox, George is Too Tall, Alex is Beanstalk and the other boys go by their last names – or some twisted version of it.
I am just getting to know Brian’s new friend Joelle – who is referred to as Sanchez (I mostly call the boys by how much they eat: Boy who has 4 pieces of chicken, Boy who drinks only root beer, Boy who hates vegetables and so on). Sanchez is what the back of his practice jersey says, so we have been calling him that.
Makes sense.
He always responds.
Until last Wednesday.
I have to back this story up a few days.
And remind you that these are 14 year old boys.
Last Monday at the beginning of practice, a defensive line coach can be heard yelling:
“S A N C H E Z?!”
“Yes coach?”
“Where’s your paperwork? We can’t find it.”
“My mom finished it and I turned it in sir.”
“You are sure?”
“Yes sir.”
“OK, I’ll look one more time.”
The next day at practice, the same defensive line coach can be heard yelling:
“S A N C H E Z?!”
“Yes coach?”
“I still can’t find your paperwork.”
“Sir I swear I turned it in and my mom filled it out!”
“OK I have one more place I can look.”
That Wednesday at practice, the same defensive line coach can be heard yelling:
“S A N C H E Z?!”
“Yes coach?”
“I have looked everywhere – there is no paperwork for you anywhere!”
“I handed it in sir – honest!”
“OK, maybe I am spelling your name wrong. Your name is spelled J O E L L E S A N C H E Z ( spelled out very slowly) right?”
“Oh no coach!”
“I am Joelle (he begins to spell back very slowly) H E R N A N D E Z!”
“Why son does your practice jersey say Sanchez?”
“Oh that’s my brother’s best friend’s name and this is his old jersey. He gave it to me.”
The coach walks away shaking his head.
All the parents standing there turn to each other and nod, “14″.
The next day at practice, the same defensive line coach can be heard yelling:
Hmmmm … the New York Times link could be my closest bet.
You might wonder what moved me to search the Internet for a Teenage foreign language tutorial. It occurred just after overhearing the following conversation between Brian and his father:
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I go over to Gus’ house sometime?”
“Who’s Gus?”
“This kid from school…”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“Yeah…”
Silence
“Well, where does he live?”
Silence
Silence
Silence
“Uhhhhh …. I think he lives really close.”
“Close?”
“Or really far … can we go by there?”
“And where would there be?”
“Dad! It’s not that difficult!”
He lost me at Gus, let alone the really close or really far part. I suppose we could just drop him off in the middle of nowhere and Gus might magically appear. Or, he could kick the heels of his skateboard shoes together three times and a magical woman in a pink dress with a Scarecrow, a Tin Man and a Lion could lead him to Gus’ house.
Or I could just make him take the clean dishes out of the dishwasher, feed the pets and take out the garbage.
I don’t need an interpreter to make him do that.
Gus, if you are out there … Brian is hoping you’ll drop your house in our backyard, thus killing the witch that is making him do chores.
Posted by Catherine, the redhead mom blogger on Oct 7, 2007 in Puzzled
Many of you have been reading my writings since my early days on AOL, when I used writing as a way to change my life. Over the years you read of my frustration with the school system with its attempts to make all kids learn the same way. No one I have ever worked with, lived with, ate with, talked with, laughed with, cried with have ever approached any idea the same way. Yet this system often tries to place children in the same square peg, and now drug them into the square to make a good fit.
I don’t like it.
Brian day dreams. He day dreams a lot. It’s a hobby he has taken to an art form. I can always tell when he is deep in it. He will shake his head like he is in a trance. If I call his name he doesn’t answer. I like to watch him and after a while he looks up at me and exits his lost world. Brian would never tell me what was happening in his other world. But over time and gaining his trust he began to tell me his day dream adventures. I loved his stories and wanted to go there too. His imaginary scenes were green and lush with forest vegetation, small creatures and purple caveman aliens who lived high upon a rock.
I noticed if Brian did his math homework after one of these day dream sessions he would ace all the answers. It was like it stimulated that part of his brain and he would go deep into his algebra equations and whip out the correct answers in lightning time. If he built something with Legos, or blocks then they would become these interesting engineering designs.
I was seeing that imagination fueled Brian’s thought process.
Many of you know the great lengths that I went to for testing and arguing against drugs for Brian. Eventually it was discovered that Brian has CAPD. His father and I, with the help of a great doctor worked with teaching Brian modifications to help him learn within our type of school system. Last year Brian became an honor student for the first time, and although reading is still not his favorite past-time he fights every day to stay in the game. This weekend we received a call from Brian’s math teacher informing us that Brian scored the top score of all his students in their most recent math quiz.
I have always believed that Brian (and many kids like him) are extremely creative and learn differently. I believe there are many kids who only learn BY MOVING, thus making it impossible to sit still. I think it is the way they process information. Then there are the other kids who are always looking to build something, and what exactly are you building when you read? Now don’t get me wrong, reading is very important. I love to read; I am not a math girl. I get math; I got good grades in it – even passed trigonometry – but I don’t really like it. Brian loves it.
Go figure.
We don’t learn the same.
This weekend I stumbled across the blog, Purple Goddess in Frog Pyjamas. She has a post with a Youtube video asking the question, Do Schools Kill Creativity? Well bite me another redhead, of course I had to read the post with an embedded Youtube video of the same name by Sir Ken Robinson. He eloquently states what I have been thinking all this time, but couldn’t put into words. We parents who fight for the educating of our children with specific needs, we are often treated like we are nuts.
Ok, maybe I am nuts.
Blame the red hair.
But I am a nut who understands kids.
And apparently so does Sir Robinson.
Do Schools Kill Creativity? (<—-click on the link to watch his Youtube speech, as my Godaddy software does not work with the Youtube video format)
It is pleasing to note there is an educator who thinks like the nutty redhead.
Posted by Catherine, the redhead mom blogger on Jul 23, 2007 in Puzzled
Communication is a wonderful thing.
It makes it possible for us to convey our thoughts, ideas, hopes, dreams, experience and anything we wish to people. It even allows us (if we feel so inclined) to yell at our kids. With all the language translation web sites springing up over the internet like weeds in a garden, you’d think one of them would have the decency to translate the language of our children.
But no.
Like some long lost dark foreboding tunnel, as parents, we must feel our way along in total blindness, only to become experts after our children have grown, thus rendering the expertise obsolete.
Since by now we all know what a sarcastic biotch giver I am, it stands to reason that I would want to help with this serious child-to-parent language issue by providing a few translation tips for parents who may still have kids at home. Granted, my translation will be more for the language of boy, but I am sure it applies to some girl languages too.
So here it goes, and feel free to add your own.
Top 15 words and phrases:
1.Now.
Meaning to parent: RIGHT this minute.
Meaning to child: After I finish watching this show, stare at the ceiling, hum favorite song, play with the dog, check battery charging status of IPod, go to the bathroom, then … what did my parents want again?
2. Come here.
Meaning to parent: Walk up to me right this minute and stand within a foot of me.
Meaning to child: After I daydream about my latest World of Warcraft battle, and chase the dog around the neighborhood, read the inside of my candy wrapper left on my bedroom floor from two weeks ago, think about what that candy bar might taste like right now, then glance at my parents … did they say something?
3. Move.
Meaning to parent: Get out of my way faster than mach 5.
Meaning to child: After I look down and figure out that I have feet and they do move, pet the dog who is in front of me, scratch my butt, feel that piece of roast beef in my molar from dinner last night because I haven’t brushed my teeth yet, then … why do I need to move?
4. Stay clean until we leave.
Meaning to parent: Don’t touch ANYTHING.
Meaning to child: I’ll just go run outside and play on the lawn with the dog … that should be safe … hey … I think I’ll ride my skateboard … downhill … through that very tiny puddle…
5. Clean your room.
Meaning to parent: Straighten up your room until it looks like mine.
Meaning to child: Let’s see how much stuff I can push under my bed, behind my dresser, in the back of the closet and take all the clothes laying around (clean or dirty) and shove them into the dirty clothes basket… easy enough.
6. Wash your hands.
Meaning to parent: Turn the facet to warm, use water and soap, create lather all over hands, rinse then dry.
Meaning to child: After I chase the dog, make funny sounds, look under bed for where I stuffed IPod, then run into the bathroom, turn on cold water, run part of some fingers by water, pick up soap, put soap right back down, then dry fingers.
7. Quit mumbling.
Meaning to parent: Talk with your head up facing me so I can hear you.
Meaning to child: God you’re deaf.
8. Stop.
Meaning to parent: STOP!
Meaning to child: Continue whatever I am doing until my parent’s head explodes, then play innocent.
9. Turn it down.
Meaning to parent: Turn it off.
Meaning to child: Ignore parent.
10. Smile.
Meaning to parent: We want people to think you are polite, or we want a good picture.
Meaning to child: Make an odd face … constantly.
11. Don’t touch that.
Meaning to parent: Don’t make me want to kill you.
Meaning to child: Test parent on this.
12. Wait for me.
Meaning to parent: Be where you were told and don’t move.
Meaning to child: Become an explorer, and run … fast.
13. No.
Meaning to parent: Never.
Meaning to child: Probably a yes.
14. Be home before dark.
Meaning to parent: Be inside your room before the sun sets.
Meaning to child: My parents will come looking for me when they want me home.
15. Finish your homework.
Meaning to parent: Be finished so I can go to bed before midnight.
Meaning to child: Maybe they will get so tired they’ll write me a note so I don’t have to do this stupid homework.
There you have it. My top 15 translations to help you understand the language of children. Maybe I should start writing a Dictionary version now… think of what this could mean to the world? I can feel the love coming from parents now because I have brought sudden clarity to the verbal exchanges with their children. See, it isn’t the children; it’s the parents who, ”just don’t understand”.
Maybe next I’ll let you in on the secret language of redheads. This way you won’t ever have to pull a china cup out of your forehead, change your address, disconnect your phone and go into the witness protection program to hide.
Posted by Catherine, the redhead mom blogger on Jun 25, 2007 in Puzzled
Ex: “Is Brian showering at your place?”
Me: “Uhhh yes, every night.”
Ex: “Does he use any soap?”
Me: “I think so – he smells clean – W H Y?”
(These are conversations you never picture yourself having when you are young, sexy and vibrantly first married. It is only years later when you are beaten the crap out of by life, have children, never sleep and get divorced that conversations with men are reduced to this).
Ex: “Have you looked at his hair lately?”
Me: “Yeah, it seems a little oily but he is 12…”
Brian passes by at this moment and we stare.
Brian: “W H A A A A T??”
Ex: “Are you washing your hair?”
Brian: (Big sigh) “YESSSSSS!”
About three days go by and Brian’s hair is looking particularly greasy.
“Brian?”
“Yeah mom?”
“Can you go in the bathroom and bring me the shampoo you use?”
“In a minute.”
“Uh, no … N O W.”
I hear a sigh and movement. He goes into the bathroom and brings me the container of … my expensive
c o n d i t i o n e r.
“Uh Brian, this is conditioner…”
“Yeah, so?”
“You’ve been using just this to wash your hair?”
“Yeah, why?”
“How long?”
“A while – why?”
“It’s conditioner, son.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Conditioner softens you hair and shampoo cleans it…”
“I KNOW.”
“But this won’t clean your hair.”
“Why not? That green bottle stuff you had me use before said conditioner on it…”
“Yes, that was shampoo with conditioner IN it.”
Brian looks puzzled.
“Brian, you need something with the word shampoo on it to wash the oil out of your hair – which means soap.”
“And this doesn’t have soap in it?”
“NO.”
“Why?”
(My ’sexy’ is just so gone and I don’t think it is ever coming back).
“Because it’s meant to JUST soften your hair.”
“Girl stuff. Ew.”
“Exactly Brian, now please go take a shower and wash your hair with shampoo…”
Posted by Catherine, the redhead mom blogger on Nov 26, 2005 in Puzzled
It is predicted that tonight’s weather will get down into the 20’s here in Northern California and we should cover plants and be prepared for freezing. Right now, the sun shines brightly, with a slight cold breeze.
My thyroid condition keeps my body temperature below normal, so I am always cooler than the rest in a room. This type of weather chills me to my cells and depresses me as the third pair of socks on my feet although create a thick layer of cushion, does not keep me warm.
Often, I am forced to take hot showers to bring my body temperature up so that I can feel the actual temperature in a room. I am often shocked at how warm I have the house, but my body temperature does not heat up to match it. This is one of the areas guys I have dated just don’t understand when I tell them I am cold. They look at me like it is typical for a woman to have this complaint, and shrug it off as if putting on a sweater or pulling on a blanket fixes it, when it rarely does.
I am puzzled by their lack of compassion and understanding that having a low body temperature and being cold isn’t pleasant, and can be exhausting. A fast running metabolism is warm and high energy, so what do they think is happening if I am cold? I have yet to meet a man that is kind and helpful when I say that I am cold. What is it with men when they hear a woman say that she is cold?
This is the main reason that I love warm places, especially the tropics. I love being warm all the time. My dream is to live someplace warm, near the ocean, where I can have my windows open and the smell of flowers fill the room. People often think California is warm. This part of Northern California is not warm. In fact, those of us that grew up here laugh at the people who buy air conditioners, as we have no more than maybe 13 “hot” days a year. We are foggy and windy a great portion of the time, and our summer doesn’t begin until late July and lasts to mid-October.
So, I have logs for a fire, and shortly will go out and cover my plants for tonight, but for this winter I have started to write the children story that has been rattling around in my head for so many years now. It will be my winter project to distract me from the cold. It also means from time to time I may not be writing as much here, depending on how well I can balance it all with work and Brian.
I will still occasionally need to get my ramblings out of my head so that I can get to my story plot, so I will come here and unload those thoughts, just like today when the cold was beginning to bug me. My nose and ears are ice cold right now.
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I imagine since the idea of sports began, athletes have had nicknames. There was 
