the ides of twinness

Beware the Ides of Twinness.

Because it's a guarantee. One of your twins will beg you to get braces. You will spend fifteen minutes at the dinner table explaining the many reasons why she does not want braces.

And then? The other twin will be told she needs braces. And you will spend fifteen minutes during the car ride home explaining mom doesn't always know what she is talking about the many reasons it's not so bad having braces.

buckets of rain

Woke up to an overcast sky. Forecast calling for 50% chance of afternoon thunderstorms. 11am -- sunny. 12 noon -- steady sunny. Checked the radar. No rain in the immediate area. Barton Springs Here We Come.

Forty-five minutes and nine dollar bills later. Comes the downpour. Buckets of rain. Buckets of tears. Nearly 6pm now. Still coming down. Rain guage says three plus inches.

Rain is much needed. Garden needs it. Lawn needs it. Creeks need it.

But.

It could have waited two measley measly hours.

First rain at Barton Springs. For me. Tried to enjoy it. New experience and all.

But. The beach bag. Not water proof. Cell phone. Not water proof. Kids complaining. Not waterproof.

Rain drenched schlep back to the car.

Blown up rafts. Unused. Submarine sandwiches. Uneaten. Sour cream and onion chips. That's right. Uneaten.

Load of laundry.

Off to the gym.

First time in a month of Tuesdays. So not a total waste of a day. Just sticky. And extra hot. Elipticizing in sunscreened skin. Not my favorite. Tennis shoes soaked in parking lot puddles. Not my favorite.

Forgot my water bottle. What with so much rain and all. Drank cooler water out of styrofoam cup. Makes my teeth ache. That styrofoam. But listened to new tunes in my ear buds. Rolling Stones. Some Girls. Start Me Up. Perk in my step.

And now home. Blog tending. Smelling dinner. Cooked by bestest husband.

Not like swimming in Barton Springs. But not bad either.

my gripe with homework. and I do have one.

Kids have homework. I get that. It's good for them to practice what they've learned in school so the learning sets in.

What I don't get is homework that takes both parents, four college degrees between us, to figure it out and then teach it to our kid. That when we ask how the teacher explained it we are told the teacher never mentioned this type of problem before. This is new. The first time she's heard of it.

Okay, so maybe she wasn't paying attention. Maybe it was taught and she missed it altogether.

That's where my second gripe comes into play. The evenings when she understands the larger, underlying concept but the homework is presented in a quirky, confusing, hard-to-solve way. Which again, requires one or both parents trying to figure out what the heck the question is even asking, let alone how to derive at the correct answer.

It's those evenings I want to sit down with the writers of the workbook and ask, What were you thinking? Were you at the last fade of your morning caffeine buzz, that point where your head starts to nod and your legs get restless and your mind starts to wonder if what's left on the bagel cart?

Or were you just smoking too much crack?

But let's leave the amphetamine-addicted, hallucinogenic-dropping, educational book developers alone for the time being.

Let's talk about my main issue.

It's the fact that my daughter is lucky enough to have two educated, willing, at-home, sober parents spending concentrated time helping her figure it out.

It's the fact that I'm well aware that too many kids don't have this advantage. This help at home. This step up.

And don't get me started on the projects. The projects where I can tell that the parent and child spent one day together buying twenty dollars worth of nifty, crafty materials at Michaels and then the next day assembling. Or was that Mom assembling for five hours and child losing interest after the second hour? Because that neatly-painted, sequin-studded, velvet-striped catepillar was not a first grader's doing.

My favorite science projects have always been the ones hand-written in #2 pencil standing bravely next to the Photo-Shopped, Excel-Charted, Word-Doc Wonders.

So my question is one that I know concerns a lot of caring parents, educators and therapists:

What about the kids who come from a chaotic, abusive ... nobody's home ... home? How fair is it to these kids that homework can't be completed without help? And they've got nobody at home to help them?

Or maybe they come home to a mom in a drunken rage or a dad hitting a mom in a drunken rage or a grandmother who can't pull herself away from her soaps or an uncle who can't stay out of the kid's bedroom at night.

Yes, my kids get good grades. I'm proud of them and their effort and abilities. I'm proud of myself being an involved parent, especially on those nights when I'd rather be at Antone's jamming to some blues.

But I'm not proud of an educational system that rewards parents who do the teaching. Or workbooks with assignments that require adult-hands-on-deck to decipher.

A too hard assignment leaves out too many kids. Too many kids whose grades reflect not what they can do but what they can't have: a nurturing home life. For that, they've already paid a heavy price. I don't want them paying twice, in the form of substandard grades.

my kids are smarter than your kids

My daughter, BabyB, has determined that she can sleep on top of her bedspread, covered by a small blanket, and avoid making her bed in the morning.

And so, with this post, and with great pride, I hereby nominate BabyB as a candidate for the Nobel Laureate in Domestic Short Cuts.

And since there is a little known category called Family Laureates, The Curie family having won the most Nobel Prizes, with five, I will also nominate my son. He has discovered that, despite having a walk in closet, furnished with the usual array of clothes hangers, shelves and a string of hooks, he can organize his clothes better by laying them in discreet piles on his bedroom floor. Unfolded, even! That his mother nearly slipped a disc tripping over these piles on her way to open the window blinds is but a minor stumbling block of his revolutionary system.

BabyA comes in third place. She has devised a shoe organization scheme which may be too complex to describe in a short blog post. Her extraordinary design involves placing, or sliding, and sometimes kicking, her shoes, but most especially her slippers, under her bed where they wait, mismatched, until their partner shoe, or slipper, is put on the proper foot. How she does this has not been replicated by any other child scientists, or at least, a data base search has not yielded a similar reference. BabyA merely has to use the big toe of her unshod foot and slide it along the edge of her underbed, and, by a combination of tactile and sonar tracking, she locates the correct match. It's a spectacular process to behold!

Reader, does a child of yours have a Nobel-Prize-worthy discovery you'd like to nominate?