humor

Bag Math

Chris Irvine, Parent CoachLeave a comment

In this final stretch of mandatory school for The Kid Who Refused to Go to School, I’m doing my best to make it fun. This is really my life’s mission: If something isn’t fun, I try to make it fun. Why not?

Some years ago I was having a terrible day – I’m pretty sure everyone I lived with was conspiring to make me go insane, and they seemed to be closing in on success – so I decided to leave for a bit and head into San Francisco. It was a weekend afternoon so traffic was a nightmare and I’m pretty sure there was some huge event going on, so I couldn’t even park. Instead I just drove into the city, around it for a bit, and then headed home. My emotions were boiling over and I was struggling to enjoy anything at that moment. Then I spied two guys in a Mini Cooper driving over the Golden Gate Bridge with that convertible top down. I thought to myself, “If I had a convertible, I would be happy right now.” Of course that’s absurd. Exterior input like the fresh air blowing your hair to smithereens can’t compensate for the internal struggle we all face sometimes, but it certainly looked appealing.

So what I try to do is turn the mundane or the sad or the frustrating into something entertaining. I started making up songs when I was changing diapers 17 1/2 years ago. They were terrible songs sung terribly, but one of those poop-related songs inspired Maddie’s very first laugh, so I put that sucker on repeat. I goof around so much that at one point my kids told me I needed new material. Too many fart jokes, I believe. Once when I was driving the kids somewhere, I noticed the thermometer on the car indicated it was 80 degrees outside. “Eighty-degrees!” I declared. “That’s my favorite temperature!”

“No it’s not,” insisted both the kids. They thought I was joking. I insisted I was serious, but they wouldn’t believe me. And you know why? Because about 80% of what comes out of my mouth is a joke, or at least an attempt at one.

If I’m not cracking a joke, I’m doing the “waffle dance”—you know, because waffles—or the “I hate doing the dishes” dance or doing the worst fake-going-down-the-stairs thing of all time.

So last week when Maddie set her mind to finishing some year-end assessments in reading and math, I put on my silly hat (it’s always available) and we got started. Eventually we got to a problem that required some scratch paper. We were in my sort-of cleaned up room, so I as I scanned the scene for a handy piece of scratch paper, I could only find one thing: a small shopping bag from a local boutique. I grabbed it and said, “We’ll have to use this. It’s bag math.”

And so for the rest of the session, we did “bag math.” Was it funny? Eh, not really, But it lightened the mood and gave us something silly to say as we trudged our way through stuff I don’t remember, stuff she never learned, and a fair amount of straight up guessing. “Bag math” saved the day.

Sometimes when I’m cleaning the kitchen or folding yet another mountain of laundry, I jokingly announce how much fun it is. I hate the drudgery, but it helps to make light of it. Yesterday I accidentally cracked myself up when I noticed that, while absent-mindedly folding a pile of fresh clothes, I had grabbed the bottom of the SHIRT I WAS WEARING and begin to fold IT. Haha! I had a good laugh at myself and finished the job.

Last fall, years after my epiphany about the convertible and how it might have changed my outlook that day, I got one. “Life is more fun with the top down!” is my motto. And I was right: Life IS more fun with the top down, and math is more fun when you do it on a bag.

Winter Camp

Chris Irvine, Parent CoachLeave a comment

It’s December 30th and Maddie is at winter camp. She loves this camp so much that as soon as she gets home she starts the countdown until next time. Last year was her first time doing the winter session, and after two years of balmy weather, a cold snap that particular week took us both by surprise a little bit. The whole time she was gone I worried that she would be warm enough. She managed, apparently, by wearing everything she could pile on. But she was cold.

It’s cold again this year, and although that didn’t come as a surprise, I didn’t help her pack that much because I wasn’t feeling well that day, so I have no idea if she packed gloves or a scarf. I know she has a down jacket, hats, and Uggs, though, so I think she’ll be OK. Still, I couldn’t help hunting down a pair of gloves and enclosing them in a box with some Cheetos, M&Ms, and glow sticks for New Year’s Eve. I hope she’s happy! Last year’s care package was a big pile of new wool socks. Not very exciting apparently, but I was in a panic about her survival, I guess, so I overnighted some directly from Amazon. I now imagine her delight at receiving a package followed by bewilderment upon seeing what was inside. Apparently the other kids got cookies and stuff. Oh, well. I try.

So today I’m thinking a lot about Maddie in her absence. I know she’s having fun. I hope she’s staying warm and dry. I hope she got her care package today and was delighted instead of deflated by the contents. I hug her in my mind. I tuck her in and kiss her at night. She’s not here, but I feel her anyway.

It’s pretty quiet around here. Mellow. Easy. Frankly either kid without the other is easier than both together, so I try to enjoy the quiet. I asked my son if he missed Maddie. I was joking. He just laughed. Fair enough.

But when Maddie is away, I really do miss her. I miss her in the sense that it’s weird for her not to be here, but I also miss her liveliness, her spirit, and her sense of humor. I imagine she’s yelling “CAMPFIRE!  I LOVE CAMPFIRE!” as loudly as she yelled, “I GOT A CAT BAG!” when she opened the cat-tapestry duffel bag my mom made for her Christmas gift. Oprah-style yelling. Or “HOLY bleep!” when she opened the box of maybe 60 rolls of duct tape I gave her, which, incidentally, she packed in her CAT BAG! to take to camp. It was so heavy that I sneaked a few rolls out before she left. She had to carry that thing quite a distance to her cabin. She didn’t care when she packed the bag, but she might have cared halfway to her destination when a heavy bag, a rolling suitcase, a sleeping bag, and her backpack might have suddenly become too much. Hopefully, though, she didn’t look in the bag and think, “Hey! Who took out that fourth roll of blue I packed?” I wouldn’t put it past her.

Last summer on the last day of camp, I showed up for the usual end-of-week celebration. In the first 30 minutes, at least two people asked Maddie for duct tape. She had come prepared, and she had now become The Girl with the Duct Tape. It’s nice to have a recognized role in society, isn’t it? Especially when it’s a helpful or meaningful one. I’m so glad she discovered the importance of duct tape! I imagine her at camp now, rolls of duct tape around her arms as far up as she can comfortably wear them, always at the ready for a repair or prop construction, feeling like a queen because she really matters. I love that thought.

As this cold and wintry week continues, and the year 2015 is wrapping up, I anticipate Maddie’s return with somewhat mixed feelings. It feels right to have her home. The dogs will attest to that: when the pack is together, all is right in the world.

But two days after she gets back, school starts again and so does the stress that comes with it. I know it’s coming. I’m thinking about that knowing now. Knowing. Maybe I can find an ironic sense of comfort in the knowing, even though I’d prefer the truth to be otherwise. I know what’s coming, though. I do. Perhaps I can relax into the knowing, the predictability, and just let it go. At least for a day. And let 2016 start off in the best way possible, with a lot of love and appreciation for my kids, and a mixture of optimism and acceptance for whatever is to come.

And a lifetime supply of duct tape.