Braving Boys

I got the nicest email today from Danny’s second-grade teacher.

Dear Jacki,

Danny wrote an incredible story today!!  Can you please type it up?  The other students want a copy of it!!  He told the class he learned how to write from his mother!  Good job, Mom!! WOW!!

Danny, the bashful writer (well, not really)

The Snake Surprise
By Danny Donaldson

One day, our class snake got out of his cage. Mrs. Omer sent me and Perry to go get it, and we looked around and couldn’t find it, so we went to tell Mrs. Omer, and she said, “Go look again!” We found him, and he dashed away faster than light. We saw which way he went, and he led us into the woods.

We looked everywhere, and we were going to give up, but we couldn’t find our way back. So, we had to keep on looking. We saw something moving in a tree. We looked in the tree. Boom! An owl flew out of a tree like a jaguar and scratched me with his claws on his legs. We kept on going.

Soon, we came to a little hole, and we looked in it. Still, we couldn’t find the snake. A different snake jumped out like a lemur on my head. I took it off, and it looked like the class snake, but the class snake didn’t hiss, so I knew it wasn’t our class snake. I threw it down, but it followed me. So, I let it sit on my shoulder. It was my buddy. So was Perry. Perry found a cave that led to a light. We went in it, but it was just a flashlight. We went back out, and we saw Kevin run with our snake. That is why he wasn’t in the class yesterday. We caught him easily. He threw the snake up and escaped and caught it. He ran away again, and he went in the cave where we saw the flashlight. There was a path where we didn’t see it. We followed Kevin. There was a password slot, but I knew the number was 11793978901. It was right! I got in, and I saw him. The path led back in the woods. Soon, we were far away from school.

Then, it became night, and we were tired, and we lost Kevin. We heard a noise in the woods. It was Kevin without the snake. He said, “Wahaha, you don’t know where I hid the snake, and you will never find him.” Perry and I said, “Oh, really?” We found it right away. It was in the cave. We picked it up, and it was as slippery as goo, water, and Gatorade. I picked it up, and we got it back and celebrated with joy. We had a lot of cookies and Gatorade. It was a festival.

It was the best day ever, and I mean it. Bye!

P.S. It wasn’t goo, Gatorade, or water. It was a snake!

Following the mechanics of 4th grade expository writing, 9-year-old Joey wrote a four-paragraph essay for his Nana.

My Nana Rocks
By: Joey Donaldson

Do you have a family member who rocks? I do. My Nana rules the school. One thing that puts her at the top of the list is that she’s cute. Another reason why I think my Nana is so spectacular is because she is super strong like a lion.

Whistle! Whistle! Here comes my never-cuter Nana. One thing that makes her look so spiffy is her short haircut. One time, she thought of getting a little trim, so she got in her shiny, silver SUV, raced off to the hair salon, and returned home with a shorter ‘do. When she got back and paid me visit, I said, “Is that my 30-year-old Nana?” You’d never know my Nana is actually 63 years old. She looks as young as a spring chicken. Maybe it’s her red-hot lipstick that makes her look like a supermodel. Sometimes, my Nana can get a little frazzled by her treacherous dogs and her endlessly whining grandchildren, and on Thanksgiving Day, well, she was pretty upset. My cousins and I were playing with a super big bouncy ball, and I launched it up as high as I could, causing the humongous ball to zip across the kitchen counter and crash into a plant, which flew in the air and then smashed into a pure white and yellow deviled egg. My Nana knew what to do. She sprinted to her bedroom, smeared on some lipstick, and returned refreshed and looking as cute as a button. The best part is none of us got in trouble! As you can tell, my cute Nana rocks!

If you’ve ever seen a lion pounce or show its power, then you can imagine the strength of my Nana. The girl can do 20 perfect push-ups at one time. Once, I jogged down to her house, and she was relaxing outside in her favorite Gator chair. When I stepped onto her driveway, I challenged her to do 20 push-ups. She said, “Bring it on!” She got down in her push-up position, and I said, “Ready, Set, Go!” She smiled at me and did 10 push-ups in five seconds. I was astonished. Then, before I knew it, she was done. She did 20 push-ups in 10 seconds. I gave her a high-five, and I saw her biceps pumping, so that told me she was really fit and strong. I guess she has proven she is one powerful person. Yep, she sure is. She’s even pretty mentally strong. S-E-I-Z-E. “I got it. It’s diagonal!” My Nana is like Einstein at word searches. One day, I came home from a day at school, and I had to do a word search, so I asked my brilliant Nana, “Will you help me?” She said, “Sure, Cupcake!” The first word was “fragile.” One second later, my Nana had it. “It’s on the third row, on the top of the page,” she told me. I joyfully responded, “Thank you!” In five minutes, it was all done. WOW! That was fantastic. I had a hunch she was feeling exhilarated. Not only is my Nana a whiz at word searches, she is basically smart all around. It must be because she reads a lot. One time, she read a whole book in one day! But that’s a subject for another story.

Give me a, “N.” Give me an “A.” Give me an “N.” Give me an “A.” What do you have? “NANA!” My Nana is cute. She is strong. She is the total package. My Nana is Rock-tastic!

Merry Christmas, Nana!
December 2010

Photo: earl53, morgueFile

Joey is in fourth grade, and writing is the end-up, be-all of this stage in his school career. I love it, because writing, I can handle. It’s the math that throws me into fits of confusion. So, you can bet that when given the opportunity to help Joey master his skills with pencil and paper, I’m jumping at the chance.

Joey’s teacher told me Friday that practicing writing at home is a wise idea, so tonight, we sat at the kitchen table with a matching assignment, and we wrote, and wrote, and wrote, until we both had finished four paragraphs. Our challenge was to write clearly, to elaborate on details, and to use our sparkly words (first-grade terminology there!). I think we did pretty well, and what follows are the essays we completed. Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I do admit that I edited for spelling and punctuation — but that’s all. And just a teeny, tiny bit. And the exclamation points: All Joey. The words, however, were not altered in any way. I promise.

Assignment: Everyone has enjoyed special days. Think about one day that was special to you. Now, write to explain why this particular day was so special to you.

By Joey

112 shrimp!

“Yes, I’m reeling it in. It’s a big one. Awesome. It’s a large mouth bass.” This is what I said to my dad when we went fishing at the St. John’s River. This was a special day because school was the next day, and I wanted to end the last day of summer on a good note. Also, I wanted to spend some time with my dad.

I don’t really like school, so I needed to end it on a good note. I like to think back on what I did this summer, and I am going to do that now. I went to get a boat and truck, I did drama camp, I learned to play the piano, I had a garden, and I played football. The best thing about the summer was the boat and truck. The most shrimp we caught on the boat was 112 shrimp! It took two hours to clean. The worst part of the cleaning was the veins. But the shrimp were delicious to eat, which made the last day of summer awesome!

I usually don’t get to see my dad much, so I wanted to spend a lot of time with him on the last day of summer. When I’m at home, he is usually at work, so spending about five hours with my dad each weekend is pretty nice. When my dad and I are on the boat together, we mostly shrimp, but in the meantime, we also use our nice poles. I help my dad dock up the boat. I help my dad dock up the boat because he needs to put the trailer in the water. We work on our boat 50/50 to make it a team project. Any day with my dad is a good day.

There have been many good times in my life, but this one was the best because boating and spending time with my dad are awesome things to do to end the last day of summer on.

By Jacki

Finished!

It’s hard to choose just one special day, because there are two most-special days in my life, and they are January 3, 2001, and May 30, 2003 — the days my babies (Joey and Danny) were born. So, in an effort to not play favorites, I’ll go with another day altogether — the day I ran and finished a half-marathon. This day rocked for two reasons. First, I wasn’t sure I could conquer such a feat, and I did. Second, I had a spunky and enthusiastic cheering section waiting for me at the finish line.

At one time in my life, I could hardly run around the block. Then, a fitness trainer friend challenged me to run for 20 minutes without stopping. I wasn’t speedy, but I succeeded. I kept at the running, and before long, I ran a 5K, which is 3.2 miles. Still, a half-marathon wasn’t even on my radar — until I watched a “Biggest Loser” episode and saw the contestants run a full marathon. Surely, I could master half of that, so I decided to try it. I trained for 10 weeks, running in the heat, cold, rain, and wind, and clocking as many as 12 miles before the big event. Then, on February 14, 2010, I pounded the pavement for 13.1 miles. It took me two hours and 12 minutes, and boy, was I glad when that was over. But WOW, was I elated to have scored such a grand victory in my life!

The shouting observers and on-lookers who filled the finish-line area were very motivating, but it wasn’t the people I didn’t know who made me jump for joy. It was my family people — my kids, husband, mom, sister and nieces. They yelled and waved fancy, hand-made posters at me. They greeted me with hugs and kisses, and their love and support warmed my heart, which was pretty important on this freezing-cold day — it was 29 degrees outside!

I bet a lot of people would count marathons as events that make for special days. I’m one of them. There’s just nothing quite like pushing myself physically to overcome something that seems sort of impossible, and to finish the journey welcomed by screaming fans makes for one seriously spectacular day!

Listen up, boys!

Writer Abigail Thomas offers on her blog various assignments for writers — budding writers, experienced writers, any writers, really. She sets forth a task, and the writer writes. Today, I grabbed this assignment:

Two pages of instructions to the child

Here’s what I wrote in my black and white composition book that I’m calling my summer journal. I write almost every day with my boys, who are penning their summer journeys, and while they wrote about boating and building a basketball hoop, I filled two pages with instructions to them. Here’s what I wrote:

• Listen. How many times have you heard that word?
• Follow the rules. They are meant for your safety, or someone else’s safety. If there’s a rule for something, it means someone has tried doing things another way, and it didn’t work out so well. Mostly, anyway.
• When someone says, “Stop,” please stop. Right then. Not after you pester a few more times.
• Love. It’s so much easier than hate.
• Be honest. You’ll always be in less trouble for telling the truth than if I discover you have lied.
• Admit when you are wrong. Not many people can do this, so you’ll be a winner if you do. Plus, you’ll feel so much better about yourself in the end.
• Aim for peace in everything you do, not conflict.
• Find something that helps you cope with life — talking to someone, a jog, a good book, singing (Danny!) — because there will be lots of bumps in the road. Getting over them is key.
• Be your own person. Don’t copy what you think you like about someone else. Just be you.
• Don’t bully, and tell us if someone is bullying you, so we can help you nip it in the bud right away.
• Don’t hit, punch, bite, or harm in any way another person or animal. Even the teeny, tiny grasshopper you think would look nice squashed on our back porch. Just leave living things alone. Please. Even though I’m aware that you are boys and that’s kind of what you do — squash things.
• Tell us everything. We’ll love you no matter what.
• Learn to take care of yourself. Example: Master the chore of laundry before you leave for college.
• Try new things, and finish what you start. If you don’t like something, don’t go back for more. But don’t quit midstream.
• Pick nice friends. If your radar says someone is a little shady, listen to it.
• Listen to your gut. If it tells you something isn’t right, it probably isn’t.
• Eat healthy most of the time. I know you love bunches of candy, and ice cream, and cookies, and cake, but use them sparingly, because what you burn off your little bodies now won’t disappear so fast when you are something like 40. Believe me. I know. Oh, and healthy food keeps you, well, healthy.
• Exercise as much as you can, because it’s good for just about every part of your body.
• Wear your seat belt, because it just might save your life. Oh, and I’m sorry I’m keeping you in the backseat until you’re 12, even though I was up front as a wee one (and without a seat belt, too). The back is just the safest place for kids, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you sit near the airbag and it hurt you.
• Wear helmets. And mouth guards. And whatever safety gear is recommended for all the sports that worry me so.
• Don’t cheat. It’s never worth it.
• Always work your hardest. It’s always worth it.
• Don’t tattle unless someone or something is in danger. Translation: Try to settle your scores all by yourself. You’re old enough to do this now.
• Rest when your body needs it. You’ll know when this time comes, because you’ll be cranky and crabby and little red lines will appear across the whites of your eyes, just like they do for Daddy.
• Wash your hands after the potty. Magic soap is OK, but real soap and water is my preference.
• Brush and floss well. Trust me, you don’t want to pay the dentist for more than cleanings. Dental work is expensive. Way expensive!
• Clean out your ears. That wax is yucky.
• Cut your nails. I know you try to get away with growing them long, but it’s not attractive. Promise.
• Keep your hair tidy. I realize you want it long and hanging in your face, and swirled here and there, but a clean, short cut is so much more impressive, and it helps you see better, too. Remember that lady in Publix, Joey, who complimented you on your nice, short haircut? My point exactly.
• Help others. It makes them feel happy, and it will soothe your soul, too.
• Say please and thank you. Always.
• Write thank-you notes. I mean real notes with your beautiful handwriting, pouring out your gratitude.
• Speak when someone speaks to you. I’m talking teachers, and other kids’ parents, and, well, not strangers who make you feel uncomfortable.
• Never approach someone’s car, or accept a ride, or agree to anything unless your dad or I tell you it’s OK. Joey, I am so proud of you for walking in the rain that day, even though a neighbor had offered to bring you home.
• Know your address and phone number.
• Stick up for your family members at all times. There’s safety in numbers, and we are a strong 4!
• Before you take any action or make any decision, ask yourself if it’s worth it, and determine what the consequences might be if you move forward. Regret is a horrible thing.
• Learn from my mistakes, and Daddy’s mistakes. That’s why we tell you stories about hiding glasses in the bedroom closet in first grade and the horrible vision that may have resulted from not wearing them — so you see what a silly thing it was to do.
• Find a job you love. That way, it won’t really seem like work.
• And remember this key instruction: No matter what, no matter when, you can always come home.
• Oh, wait, one more thing: Don’t ramble on. Just get to the point. Like I clearly did not do in this post (hey, I had to write two pages, just following the rules). OK, I’ll stop instructing. You start living.

Writer Abigail Thomas offers in her book “Thinking About Memoir” the following writing exercise: Write two pages (one post) in which a child comforts an adult.

That’s easy.

The child was Joey. The adult was me. And it happened in February, 2005, one day after I realized my hair was shedding from my scalp faster than I could say chemotherapy. It had been 13 days since my first treatment with the toxic breast cancer drugs Adriamycin and Cytoxan, and not a rubber band nor a hat could hold my wisps in place. My scalp was sore, each hair still attached to my head hung with a weight that was nearly unbearable, and it had become abundantly clear that the moment had arrived: It was time to shave my head.

“Don’t worry, mom, you’re not going to die,” announced my almost 4-year-old boy, who was taking his turn shaving away the last of my chemo-stricken hair. “It’s only a haircut,” he assured me.

Whether he knew it or not, Joey was absolutely right. It was only a haircut. I didn’t die. And while some of his comments during my years fighting breast cancer weren’t as comforting — “You look like an alien,” he revealed while visiting me in the hospital in March of that same year — this is the one that still brings tears to my eyes, because, well, it was innocent, it was real and most of all, it was damn comforting.

The child, almost 4 years old

The adult, 34 years old

This post can also be found at my Breast Cancer blog.

My mom just shared with me some writing exercises that come from writer Abigail Thomas, and I’m going to practice some of them here. Basically, I’ll list a topic set forth by Thomas, and I’ll write. I’ll relate my stories to boys, because, well, this is a boy blog. And while Thomas recommends writing on topic for two pages, I’ll adapt that to post length. Here goes:

Write one post on fighting about food.

We have fought about food in our house since the very day I fed Joey his first spoonful of baby mush — rice cereal, I think it was. I put it in; he spit it out. And it’s gone pretty much just like that for the eight years he’s been alive. Now, there are some foods he’ll happily eat — candy, cakes, brownies, ice cream — but for the most part, he rejects what we give him. He might like it at first — he loved salmon the first few times he ate it — but in short time, he’ll start gagging over the mere mention of foods he could once list as favorites. A big fan of steak for a long time, Joey now has no urge to eat the stuff. Pasta and meat sauce: He liked it so much a while back, we added it to our dinner rotation. Now he frowns when I bring out the jar of pasta sauce, because it has little green things in it, and chunks of tomatoes. And he doesn’t like turkey burgers (beef is OK), he refuses to eat any sort of sandwich, apples are a thing of the past, watermelon has too many seeds (even the seedless ones) and I could go on and on — which incidentally, is another one of Thomas’ exercises:

Write two pages (one post for me) that end, “I could go on and on.”