To Tell the Truth

The only way to pass the "parenting test" is with heaps of humility, honesty,and humor.  

That's what I said when I first started this blog. This past month though, I haven't followed that rule very well. In all kinds of big and small ways, good news and sad, I've screened my true thoughts. For example, I had some really great news this month but felt a little weird every time I would share it, especially if I was talking to another parent.. The news was that my son made it to the next round of an intense scholarship interviewing process - yay! He went through a  gamut of interactive games, leadership tests, improv exercises and impromptu essay writing with about 100 other high school seniors. After the group interview was all done, they cut half of the applicants. Instead of being cut, my son got the email that told him he was invited for a one-on-one interview. The hoped for prize when all is said and done, is a four year scholarship for college. It's nerve wracking and exciting and I'm so incredibly proud and shocked at the ways he's putting himself out there in the world and it's all just swirling in my own little head. How do we celebrate and brag without making someone else feel like crap?

And there's plenty enough of those feeling like crap moments.  Worrying about why our kids are anxious, prone to wild temper tantrums, chronically constipated, or emotionally distant, fills the secret places of our thoughts. One layer below our concerns for our kids is the darker place where we assume that we've messed them up somehow. We look at the latest Facebook updates, where only good news seems to be shared, and wonder if we would have any friends at all if they knew our true thoughts and colossal mistakes. There are layers of parenting silence. We start by talking about our perfect, precious babies instead of the crazy anatomical reorienting that our body is going through after childbirth. The silence continues and hovers over the changes in our relationships.  We stay silent when things are bad, keeping the self-doubt, shame, and feelings of failure under wraps. Telling the hard truth though, is the key to releasing all that crap. If you want to test this and have a real catharsis or just a good-pee-in-your-pants laugh, you can unload your truth at Scary Mommy, a blog that also serves as a confessional for the real deal stuff of our lives.

Bragging is just fine. So is crying and screaming and fretting and laughing. Humility, humor, honesty. We can't possibly know it all. We can't take ourselves too seriously. We only get support for the things that people know about. Go to the "scary mommy confessional" and let it out.

Yes, Levi there is a Santa Claus - and he's you

English: Santa Claus with a little girl Esperanto: Patro Kristnasko kaj malgranda knabino Suomi: Joulupukki ja pieni tyttö (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In the days leading up to Christmas I have found myself in 4 separate conversations about how to tell children about Santa Claus. One friend shared with a touch of shock that another friend continued to tell her 11yr old that Santa was real.  The woman insisted that her child told her everything and that if he had stopped believing, she would know. "We have a very good relationship.", was the closing remark.

At a neighborhood holiday party, a couple of new parents with a babe in arms struggled with whether or not to start the Santa story with their child. The question came immediately, "How do you stop the lie once you start?

And there it is. Creating a magical, childhood fantasy feels like a parental dream, until the day that the question comes. "Is Santa Claus real?" or "Which one is the real Santa?"  The dream really collapses when the child skips the question and moves straight to the assertion, "I know you're the one who gives the Santa presents." Do you counter?  Do you create an elaborate description about why they are wrong or do you enlist them in the conspiracy to protect the secret from their younger siblings?

These were the stories that I kept hearing this week.  The tales of the big reveal.  Grown adults still clearly remembering the night they saw their mom stuffing the stocking, sans beard and reindeer.  Some of the stories were more about the icky feelings that came from being privy to elaborate charades. Like the time when they heard their neighbors' plans to throw dog poop on the porch roof and chastise "Santa's reindeers" for the indiscretion.

In the same month that our children our hearing about kindergartners being slaughtered, it makes sense that we would want to create some type of figurehead for goodness, generosity, and selflessness.  What has never made sense to me is why we would create that figurehead as a stranger outside of our own homes, cities, and outside of our own selves.  We never wrote "Santa" on a gift tag.  When my 4 or 5 year old hit school and asked about Santa, I told the truth - as I understood it and as I wanted it to be for our family.  Santa was a real person. People call him different things depending on where they live but for us he's based on the man, St. Nicholas.  He gave gifts in secret, without any acknowledgement.  He was kind and wanted to make people feel special.  People liked what he did so much that even after he died they wanted to keep that special feeling alive.  Now, lots of people try to be like St. Nicholas.  They give gifts in secret, not using their real name, so that the attention is not on them and the person doesn't feel like they have to give a gift back.

I wasn't sure how my little speech was going to go over. The next year I got my answer on St. Nicholas day. I saw the traditional chocolate candy, orange and small gift(from my husband) and next to that, another piece of candy -not given by my husband but by "St. Nicholas".  That year good ol' St. Nick came in the form of a very small kindergartner. It felt special indeed, mysterious, and magical.  In the midst of all my concerns about how fragile my son's childhood would be, I had instead created a way for him to hang on to innocence, magic, and wonder.  It isn't outside of him or something that I need to wrap him in like a blanket of protection.  All of that goodness is inside him waiting to be offered up to the world. Yes, Levi, there is a Santa Claus - and he's you.

Found Treasure

Obverse of United States one dollar bill, series 2003. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

"I had a great day!  I found two dollars and a penny today!"  My son was giving me the quick summary of his school day during our 1 minute phone conversation when he checks in and tells me he's home.

"Where did you find two dollars?", I asked.

"In my wallet." He cuts me off as he hears me start laughing a little, "Well, it was like I found it because it was in a hidden spot in my wallet and I forgot it was there."  I told my husband the story later in the day and I laughed all over again.  What a silly, goofball of a kid we have.  Where does he come up with this stuff?!

Indeed.  His words hit me today in a different way.  I've mentioned here that I've been in a funk.  It's been a low time for me and a frustrating time.  I want to feel different, more motivated, but never seem to find the secret key to unlock or unblock my malaise.  Today, I asked my son if he wanted to go to the gym with me.  As I became soaked in sweat on the spinning bike, cranking the music in my ears, and letting the endorphins kick in, I remembered my son's found treasure. 

Part of me was annoyed with myself for not going to the gym earlier.  I felt so good, why didn't I do this sooner?  What took me so long?  My son could have done the same too but he didn't.  He just reveled in the moment. We always have the choice to be present in the here and now or dwell on the missed opportunities or the broken pieces.  We can waste time looking at what others have that we don't.  We can look past our life in hopes of finding some future great thing.  I want to look for more of the hidden spots in my life.  As an insurance policy, in case I backslide, I'm also going to tuck two dollars in a secret spot in my wallet.

Terrible Twos is for Sissies

tantrum #500 (Photo credit: demandaj)

When my boys were toddlers I remember feeling completely duped.  I'd heard that the "terrible twos" were a real parenting minefield that should be taken seriously, very seriously.  My first son turned two just after my youngest was born.  I thought that maybe his head wasn't spinning on it's neck, with him foaming at the mouth because of the novelty of the new baby.  A few months passed and still no hyper charged tantrums.  I figured that I was just blessed with an unusually mature tyke - no terrible anything for me, just normal crying jags, whining, and overtired spas attacks.  I relaxed and counted my blessings.  Then he turned three....

I felt like I had safely crossed the parenting minefield, feeling relief and gratitude, only to be hit by a car.  Did I have a freak for a child or had everyone been lying.  Was there a conspiracy going on?  Had parents everywhere decided that after enduring the incessant back and forth of need and asserted independence of the twos that it was best to never speak of the threes?  If parents knew what the threes might have in store for them would an epidemic of child abandonment take place - hundreds of little angels (%$#**@) deposited in the safe care of firemen and ERs around the country?  A lot of that time is hazy for me.  I'm glad that I came out the other side still loving my children and still married to their father.  I will simply say that while the twos were draining, the threes brought the first ever, full out, seizure-like, floor thrashing, screaming, emotional meltdowns.  The entire period taught me two very important lessons.  1. The experts don't know your wonderfully unique bundle of joy and 2. Be a boy scout.  Be prepared.

I was tricked again, about 7-8 years later, when my almost 11 year old started going through huge mood swings.  I was relaxed during these years, thinking that I had some breathing room before THE TEEN YEARS.  Instead, once again I was tricked.  Both times my kids hit 11 years, I faced emotionality I had not seen since... they were three.  Profound sadness, or anger, full out rage, and isolation, occurred in spurts, and was completely unpredictable to me.  Now they are both teenagers and at this precise moment I'm enjoying them more than ever before.  But do not be mistaken, I am reciting the adage, fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.  Fool me three times, NEVER.  I am on high alert.  I am going to go find a scouting kerchief and get me a merit badge in preparedness.

What Will They Remember?

My brother follows my thoughts in this blog, which is absolutely wonderful since we're so far away from each other.  Anyway, he just wondered aloud about what his children are going to take from the parenting style/choices that he and his partner have chosen.  Stay tuned!  In about 10-15 years you might have the hint of an idea as to the answer.  As soon as I saw his question I realized that this is the thing that plagues us - no immediate affirmation that what we are doing is going to achieve our objectives.  If I give X amount of chores for them to do, will it build a strong work ethic and sense of responsibility or will it turn them against me and increase their desire to be couch potatoes?  If I maintain the expectation that they continue their music lessons am I teaching perseverance and commitment or am I setting up a scenario for rebellion and eventually a full out music boycott?  If I hold out and don't buy the most recent gaming system am I helping them develop their own creativity and holding the wave of adult like influences at bay or am I merely setting up a scenario where they over indulge when they are at their friend's house and ensure that they never want to invite their friends over to our place (we don't have enough cool stuff)?  Ugh!

The list of these queries is long, perhaps endless.  I do know that I feel slightly better when I am able to describe the values that are driving our choices.  I also feel better and feel like there is the possibility of lasting impact, when I know that I'm consistent with my behavior and there's.  For example, when the boys were little, I would tell them to get out and exercise, enjoy the fresh air, get away from the t.v.  If the value and life lesson that I wanted them to remember was physical health and active living then I should have shared that message from somewhere else other than the couch.  A couple of years ago, I started going to the gym on a regular basis and invited my youngest son to be my gym buddy.  That was a great turning point in our relationship.  It turned out that he could hold me accountable to what I said was important AND I got to interact with him using our bodies and just being together instead of a bunch of talky talk.  Similarly, our boys are both very sensitive to other people and pretty appreciative of what they have in life.  I know and they have confirmed this for me, that it is a result, in part, of them having two parents who work in social services.  We've invited them to volunteer in a variety of ways since they were 4 or 5.  They also see us caring about other people in little ways, donating to causes that are important to us, bringing food to sick friends or shoveling the walk for our elderly neighbor. 

We talk about our values.  We live them out in visible, real ways.  We invite them to live them out with us.  We still don't know what all will "stick" with them but we can rest easier knowing that we weren't hypocritical or offering mixed messages.  They will very likely live out what we try to teach in ways different from us. They can make different choices and still retain the values that we shared. I firmly believe that what we do has just as much impact, if not more, than what we say.   Arrested Development has a song that I LOVE called, "Mama's Always On Stage".

"Words of wisdom should be ways of wisdom!
That's exactly how u must walk.
Life's too short your missions too dire.
Nurture another mind before yours expires.
...But mama don't sleep your lifes a turnin' page mama's
always on
stage!"        (By Speech)

They are watching, learning and remembering.

What's On Your Test?

Question mark (Photo credit: Ciccio Pizzettaro)

A quick question in lieu of a regular post, "What questions/issues are on your parenting test?"  I know what pecks at me, how about you?  How do you keep the self-doubt demons at bay?