A Time for Everything

There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven— A time to give birth and a time to die;          A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted. A time to kill and a time to heal;          A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to weep and a time to laugh;          A time to mourn and a time to dance. A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones;          A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing. A time to search and a time to give up as lost;          A time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear apart and a time to sew together;          A time to be silent and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate;          A time for war and a time for peace.- Ecclesiastes 3 Image via Wikipedia Regardless of our religious beliefs, the words from Ecclesiastes are common sense type wisdom.  Good and bad times will come and go.  We hope for more of the good than bad but have less control than we would like over the reality of that balance.  There are many things that we can control though.  Is it time for us to love? Or throw away? Heal or plant?  Is it time to give up something as lost? To speak? For me right now, I have to remember that I can't move through the world in one set gear.  I need to let go in some parts of my life and embrace in others.  Mostly I need to make enough space so that I can sit and reflect a little, every once in awhile.  Awareness needs to be cultivated, it doesn't just appear.

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.

A Good Fight

I never had a fight with my mom.  I was a desperately shy teen, not prone to outright rebellion.  I was also the oldest of five kids so combined with my introverted nature, I was a little mama's girl.  My relationship with my mom was very positive and she was a huge influence in my life.  Even with a very positive parental figure there is a fairly big part of me that is filled with self-doubt.  I am slow to confront conflict or even broach subjects that will air disagreements.

The question of how my parents fought came up in a conversation the other day and I realized that I had never seen my parents fight.  Then the more important and personal realization came that I had never fought with my mom.  The woman who I frequently describe as my source of unconditional love had never been tested.  She died very young, as I was just starting my post college life.  What would she have said if she knew that I went over a decade without attending a church?  Marched on Washington for reproductive rights?  Shared an apartment with my fiancee?  Would our relationship have remained as strong?  Would I have withheld parts of myself from her?  Would she have continued to love me and support me in the same deep, meaningful ways?

Image via Wikipedia

We can worry about how we speak to our children.  We can try to avoid shaming or imposing our own agenda on their lives.  We can use our most "bestest" good listening practices.  When push comes to shove though, we need to be honest in our relationships, including the ones with our kids.  That means that they will know our opinions, our hopes for them, and our values, and at times, we will most certainly disagree.  Even if we completely blow it and use every "should" and "ought to" phrase and lecture them on what they REALLY need to be doing or feeling, all is not lost.  The disagreement or the full out fight may be the loudest piece of the scene but it  isn't the most important.  The most important part comes when we circle back around (an hour, or day, or month later) and remind them that the love thing is unchanged.   They may not believe us right away but we have to put it out there.   It's what makes for a "good" fight and it can never be in doubt.

The Project

Image via Wikipedia

I sit here typing with the telltale signs of my least favorite part of parenting displayed all around me.  The dining room table (and floor) is a mess of books, paper scraps, and colored construction paper.  One large display board sets it all off, mocking me from it's perch in the living room.  Tomorrow is the deadline for my seventh grader's history fair project.  It used to be that we just had to deal with science fair (which I loath even more than history fair).  Now the stress and anxiety come twice a year. 

Tonight is the night.  There is usually some last minute drama, often related to a small logistical detail to which I never paid any attention.  "On the third paragraph of the summary statement, underline all the words that relate back to your hypothesis.  Make sure that all photographs are labeled in italics and placed in the left corner of the display board."  I'm of course being fictitious.  It's not that hard for me to understand the details of their teacher's requests.  My problem is me.

It's very important to me that my kids learn how to be responsible and be able to handle themselves, take care of the stuff that is their business.  I don't hover.  I ask if their homework is done and when I'm able, I answer questions.  That's pretty much what I offer.  When they were in second and third and maybe even fourth grade, I would offer to help type up their essays for school.  Mostly because I wanted to use the computer before the next month had passed and their own typing was so slow it verged on torture.

So, during science and history fair preparation my values butt up against my sanity.  Do I correct all the typos, grammar mistakes, weird phrasing, and undocumented facts or do I encourage them to check their work again and let the quality of their own effort be reflected in their grade?  Do I let them struggle with the typing and the making of charts when it would take me half the time?  I know that other parents are probably going to help out (does a 7 yr old really know how to run those color graphs with the attached video feed?).  Am I really just putting my kids in an unfair situation - being compared to students who have a design team from their parents pr firm offering support?  As is the case with so many of my dilemmas, they are rooted in my real values vs. my own adult fears of judgement.  I don't want them to turn in a project that isn't really theirs but I also hate the idea of their tilted, glue smudged display standing next to the matted, black and white photographed project, all printed on archival quality paperstock.

In the end, I am going to do what I've done the last seven years.  Tonight, I will brace myself.  I will be calm and wipe away any tears of frustration that may come.  I will model deep breathing and patience.  I will affirm and encourage.  And maybe, just maybe, quietly suggest that the summaries should be glued neatly onto the board instead of the "pin the tale on the donkey/willy-nilly" alignment that is my son's preferred method.  He will turn it in, even though I know that I would do it differently.  He will get a grade that provides relief or frustration and that grade will be all his.

Anchor Photos

I was looking through some pictures and was quickly bored by page after page of posed photos.  I love photographs and for many years I kept beautiful histories of my life, all through pictures.  My updates to the photo albums used to happen annually, at a minimum.  I would sit down over Christmas break, visiting the in-laws, and quietly organize and sort the events of the past year into neat little pages. Now, the archival process seems to be happening on a per decade schedule.  The number of photos I'm taking has decreased considerably too, so the backlog (unfortunately)  isn't that bad.

Anyway, back to the posed photos problem.  I realized that I need some pictures of my kids WITH me.  I want pictures for myself and for them.  I want to catch a few miracle shots where my deep love and pride is shining through.  I want something that I can hang onto when they're off at college and living their own life miles away.  I want something that they can use as an anchor.  A photo that grounds them in the ups and downs and steadies them.  A photo that whispers, "You are loved - profoundly - unconditionally."  A photo that reminds them, in the eyes of this love, you can do anything.

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.

Asking the "village" - apples and oranges

I started talking about this yesterday but just to remind you - my boys are very different.  They have the same mother and father, born two years apart, live in the same environment and go to the same schools, and yet they are different as apples and oranges.  Per my brief bio, my boys were born at home, so we can rule out some weird mix-up at the hospital.  Whether our kids are with us from birth and share our DNA or whether they come to us as toddlers or teenagers, through adoption or foster care, or whether "our kids" are the neighbors who visit us on a regular basis, they are "our kids" because we love them as they are.  We love the pieces of them that we recognize and the pieces that are bizarre and foreign (my husband is convinced that our one son's early morning rising is perhaps an early warning sign of some strange mutation).

So, if we accept the fact that our kids are going to be unique creatures and not cookie cutters of us, how do we meet the varied needs?  We want to encourage their talents and be sensitive to their concerns but we also want to be sensitive to our desires or those of others in the family.  Take my guys, one is a raging extrovert.  His ideal day would be talking non-stop in a mosh pit of humanity, taking breaks only for food and reading.  My other son can be very social but in his perfect world he is juggling or unicycling for hours, with no more than one other friend. They are both smart, but one thrives on group projects while the other prefers to work alone with focused attention. One lingers on, saying, "goodnight" multiple times and remembering one more story or footnote on the day that needs to be shared.  The other keeps watch of the time himself and can disappear at the bewitching hour without a peep.  If we decide to go to a museum, we have one child who is in heaven, reading material and mingling with people everywhere while the other son is "peopled out" 30 minutes into the outing and begging to do laps around the parking lot instead. How do you engage two (or three or four) divergent personalities in a way that honors everyone?

This was my dilemma last summer.  Our normal vacations involve road trips to visit family members.  For the very first time we took a family vacation that was just our little foursome, planning our days and nights, routes, food, and entertainment for a whole week.  As the planner of vacations I was a little nervous.   I decided that the best way to get "buy in" was if everybody was part of the plan.  I asked everyone what a perfect trip to the Black Hills would include from their perspective. We made a list of all those ideas and made sure that everyone knew their thing would get done and when.   I also told them that if we ever got to a point where we weren't sure what to do next on a given day, everyone could have one wild card choice during the trip.  They could choose to use it during the week if they felt their needs just really needed to be considered most in our decision.  That week we went horseback riding, explored caves (in the dark and in very confined space), toured the Wounded Knee Museum, and took incredibly long and beautiful scenic drives through Custer Park.  We all participated, even though the museum almost bored my youngest son to tears and my husband had a bloody scalp from scraping the ceilings of the caves. 

When the kids were little such idyllic displays of cooperation and enlightened compromise did not exist.  It often felt like a day was not complete unless someone was pouting, crying, or in full blown, red alert mode.  Usually the upset was directly linked to somebody needing to sit outside of their comfort zone for just a titch too long.  I could count on a meltdown when the extrovert was forced to stay home with me all day or the introvert was required to hangout at a church activity AND stay indoors.  I would sit at baseball games for one, watching the game part of the time and part of the time playing catch with the other one who hates team sports but loves being physical.  I ended most days feeling like I had let somebody down.  

Fast forward ten years.  to my oldest son surprising me and  putting all of this in perspective.  He said that while he didn't like it at the time, doing things together as a family helped him.  His insight came when I asked him if he had any idea how he came to be such a cool person (the single most awesome conversation I've had with him).  He shared some interesting thoughts and one was, "I hated having to do everything together but I also think it ended up helping me.  Whether you planned it or not, it was teaching us that "it" isn't always about what we want."  It absolutely wasn't planned but he's right.  The differences in our families allows us to practice cooperation and compromise.  They allow us to set aside our own personal desires once in awhile and think about other people.  They allow us to learn new things and try new things that our own little comfort zone wouldn't have made possible.  It isn't very pretty at times but it's absolutely better than only doing things that we want, when we want them.  Our family is our first little practice run at having classmates, coworkers, and personal relationships.  You know the people in your life who didn't get enough practice as kids.  Differences can be a pain but they can also help us learn how to be great grown ups.