Monthly Archives: June 2011
Firsts
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| Paxton and the birthday boy |
This past weekend was my nephew, Isaac’s 10th birthday party. He chose to celebrate at a local water park (perfect for the 110 degree day) To be honest, the anticipation was a little stressful, mainly because lots of water plus four kids – only one of which is a strong swimmer – equals lots of heightened anxieties for parents. But it turned out to be a great day for all involved, as well as a day of conquering fears:
Spencer went down the huge slide.
Tegan went down the kids’ slide without me… over and over and over and over and over.
Everett practiced swimming and floating and treading water independently.
And Paxton discovered the joys of jumping from the high dive.
When we got home, Tegan went to sleep in her own bed for the first time, and slept there for nine hours straight. I of course was so weirded out by having a kid-less bed, I spent most of the night awake, watching old sitcoms and checking to make sure everyone was still breathing.
My kids are growing up.
Filed under birthdays, growing up, kids, life
How Housekeeping is like Advanced Math
On the heels of my little cleaning freak-out the other day, yesterday I decided that I needed a new approach and a fresh perspective. I would set a timer (a la Flylady) for 10 minutes, and 10 minutes only. I’d give my full attention to picking up, cleaning up, and generally getting things done cheerfully for those 10 minutes, then I’d take a break. I asked the kids if they would join me, and they were very willing (probably because I asked like a friendly mom instead of a crazy person). We did our 10 minutes, and later did the same thing twice more.
That combined 30 minutes of cleaning was a million times more productive, and honestly more enjoyable, than my entire previous day of frustrated huffing and wandering around, picking up this and that, and overall spinning my wheels. Why? Because 1) I was ready to do it, 2) I wanted to do it. 3) I was motivated to do it, and 4) I was willing to give it my full – positive – attention.
Really, isn’t everything like that? How much more efficient, and productive, and useful is our time when we’re doing something that we willingly choose to do, that we’re personally invested in, and truly motivated to do?
It’s the same exact concept I learned 20 years ago in my advanced math class my senior year of high school. I’ve written about that class before, but the short of it is that it was a class that made me all kinds of miserable. A class that I wasn’t interested in. A class that I felt I didn’t need (and I didn’t). A class that I struggled with to the point of tears. And after a l.o.t. of torture, frustration, and a fair amount of humiliation, I dropped it. What I didn’t mention in my first re-telling is that before I could drop the class I had to be passing the class, which meant that I had a whole lot of make-up work to do. I’d pretty much stopped doing my homework, for the simple reason that I didn’t understand my homework.
My teacher suggested perhaps having another student tutor me during a study hall, and in desperation I took her up on it. Pete was a straight A student, and was one of those people, like my husband, who finds math – even in its advanced varieties – easy and fun. He patiently sat with me during one study hall, and went through the work point by point. And for the first time, it made sense to me. For the first time, I actually saw a glimpse (though a teeny one) of what math-inclined people find so cool about all those numbers and formulas.
I learned more in that one 45 minute tutuoring session than I had all semester.
And it wasn’t because he was a better teacher than the teacher. It was because I was ready to learn it. I wanted to learn it. I was personally motivated to learn it. For a myriad of reasons, I needed not to be in that class anymore. In order to do that, I had to finally learn what I’d resisted learning for most of the semester. Once I had that motivation, the learning came quickly and relatively easily.
The same is true for learning anything, and is a big factor in why I unschool. The only time we truly learn something is when it “arise(s) out of the experience, interest, and concerns of the learner.” (John Holt) The rest of the time? The times when we’re daydreaming sitting through classes that don’t interest us or are not meaningful to us, or wandering around our house pretending to clean when our minds are clearly somewhere else? We’re wasting our time.
I recently learned that the teacher of that math class has since passed away. I was genuinely sad to hear it. Like any good teacher, she wanted to me to do better, and try harder, and live up to my own potential. I think I’m finally doing that. And as it turned out, I did learn a lot from that class. It just didn’t happen to be about math.
Filed under about me, life, organizing, unschooling
Plank Pullin’: The one I hate to pull
It’s Plank Pullin’ time! The one day a week that we strongly resolve to ignore the multitude of specks and sawdust around us and pull one bona fide plank from our own eye. Matthew 7:3-5, style.
My sweet little girl has a new favorite word. It’s not a “bad” word, or a curse word, or an inappropriate word really. It’s just a word that sounds… wrong… coming out of an innocent mouth.
The word is “HATE” and she has been experimenting with it for several days now, usually without even meaning it. She hates that shirt, she hates the crust on the toast, she hates this song, she hates the grumpy cashier at the Dollar Store. I know it will pass, but I can’t help but cringe just a little each time I hear it. I hate that word. Such a negative, ugly-sounding word.
And where would she have heard it? Her brothers don’t say it with any regularly. Her father doesn’t say it with any regularity. Her mother… just said it yesterday in reference to a driver’s cell-phone-yapping activities that almost got her sideswiped on a busy street. 
And I’m sure it wasn’t the first time this week, or even that day. Because for all my outer calm and zen-ness, I have an embarrassingly long list of minor grievances with, well, the world (and sometimes the people that inhabit it). An all too often conversation in the house starts with the following: Me – You know what I hate? Husband – Lots of things?
Sigh.
You know how sometimes when you fill out one of those silly surveys, it will ask you for your biggest pet peeve/s? I always have trouble answering those, because there are just too many to choose from. And I may or may not use the word, ‘hate’ to describe many of them. I never use it to describe people (I do not hate anyone), but I do use it.
And now my little girl uses it too.
I can’t stop her from using it, and I know that in time she’ll only use it when she really means it… but I can work on how discriminating I am when I use it myself (or even better, stop using it altogether). Because my daughter is now overly fond of a negative word thanks to me….
and I really hate that.
Filed under plank pullin'
I’d Rather Be With My Kids
Top ten reasons why I’d rather spend time with my kids than with most of the adults I know:
1. They’re cute
I mean, come on. Do any of your adult friends look like this?
2. They appreciate the little things in life
I know very few adults who derive as much – or any – joy from rainbows, mud puddles, or caterpillars.
3. They still know how to play
Not everyone loses this ability as they get older, but so many do! I want to be around people who still see the value in an impromptu game of hide and go seek, or blowing bubbles with a straw, or putting on a Spiderman costume at 2:00 in the afternoon, just because.
4. They’re REAL.
My kids are authentic, always. They don’t play mind games, they don’t act a certain way around certain people, they don’t just tell me what I want to hear. Happy, sad, silly, frustrated…. they are wonderfully unmistakably themselves, and they express it. And as a bonus, I’m more real when I’m around them, too.
5. They always give me something new,
When it comes to a life with kids, it’s nothing if not full of surprises. I never know what each day is going to hold, and I love that!
but at the same time,
6. They’re always comfortable and familiar
I know my kids better than I know anyone on the planet. I’ve been there since their very first breath. I know every story, I remember ever wound. They truly are my heart and my soul walking around outside my body.
7. They’re great conversationalists and even better thinkers
You know how 2 year olds constantly ask “why?” They’re not doing it to annoy you; they’re doing it because they’re learning how the world works, and they’re looking to you – their most trusted and loved ally – to help them figure out. Kids are naturally open and curious and questioning, and they are not held back by the preconceived notions of so many adults. Some of my very favorite times with my kids are in the car, discussing anything from armpits to snakes to heavy artillery. Their perspective is always fresh, honest, and enlightening.
8. I enjoy their company
Whether I’m catching an episode of Dr G with the 14 year old, discussing music with the 10 year old, making simulated blood with the 7 year old, or playing dolls with the 3 year old… or doing something more out of the ordinary… I’m having a good time. I love my kids – of course – but I like them too.
9. They’re funny
No one makes me laugh harder than my kids. Period.
10. They teach me more than anyone or anything else combined
No, not about isosceles triangles, or finding the value of ‘x’, but about LIFE. They teach me the things that matter. They teach me about love. They teach me about living in the moment. About being honest with myself and others. About not sweating the small stuff. About being REAL. My kids teach me everything I need to know about what kind of parent I want to be, and what kind of person I want to be.
They teach me about smiling…
Even when I’m faced with the metaphorical business end of life:
And you just can’t put a price tag on that.
Filed under about me, kids, parenting, random, unschooling
Cleaning Fail? Parenting Fail? You’re both right.
Not even two weeks ago, I blogged about how much I needed a break. I was exhausted, I was stressed out, and I was panicking about getting read for our upcoming trip. I took exactly two days off from blogging, missed it terribly, and jumped right back in.
Yesterday, I was back in panic mode. We leave for our trip in 12 days, and it still feels like there are mountains to climb before we do. Making matters worse is the fact that I’m the only one who feels that way. Mike simply doesn’t stress out about much of anything, and the kids are just looking forward to a fun vacation (as they should be)
Sunday night was a rough night. I wasn’t feeling well; Everett had a nightmare very early on, and was in our bed the rest of the night; Tegan was tossing and turning and kicking even more than usual; I ended up sleeping in a ball on the end of our bed. The big boys were up past 2:00 (which is not unusual for them) but were woken by Tegan far too early in the morning. Everyone was tired and grumpy, and what I should have done was given us all a free day… a no obligation, lounge around, rest and recoup kind of Monday.
But, oh no. We had 13 days left. We had to CLEAN!
I started with my own desk, and instead of leaving well enough alone, I then decided it was imperative that I tackle the computer room.
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| This is the ‘after’ picture, but the girl had already dumped something out again. |
This room has been a thorn in my side since we moved in to this house nearly 5 years ago. It looked like it was originally a formal dining room (judging partly from the big chandalier that once hung in the middle of the ceiling), but the previous owners didn’t seem to know what to do with it either. When we first toured the house, it was mostly empty, save for a little couch in the corner. For us, it has always served as a computer room slash project room slash collector of random, miscellaneous stuff. It’s always a mess, and yesterday I was going to clean it.
I asked the kids to help me, but they were too tired. (Of course they were too tired; No one got any sleep). I asked them again. Spencer was half asleep on the couch, Paxton was engrossed in a computer game, and Tegan and Everett were chasing each other around the house. No one really answered me.
And again, I should have taken the hint, followed their lead – and my own level of exhaustion – and rested. Instead, as if possessed by some mop-wielding inner demon, I became that mom. The stomping, huffing, sighing, “fine, I’ll do it myself”, martyr of a mom. For the next hour, I was noisily moving chairs and bookshelves, digging stuff out from beneath the desks, flinging sweeping wayward toys and papers and books and tools to the center of the room to sort through. Spencer had fallen asleep by then, Paxton was calmly moving out of my way as I cleaned around him, and the little ones had wisely moved their play to another room, lest they accidentally witness the embarrassment of their mom in the throes of her tantrum.
It really wasn’t my finest moment.
I was tired, I was irritated, and I couldn’t even enjoy the fruits of my labor once I’d finished. Who can enjoy something they’d done with the wrong attitude in the first place?
I do still want to get the house clean before we go. But not like that. Today, I will get a grip and remember what’s important. I’ll listen to my kids, listen to my own body, and save the cleaning for another dang day if need be.
And if all else fails, I’ll stick to the kitchen side of the house, and avoid the computer room completely.
Filed under about me, kids, not sweating the small stuff, parenting, unschooling
Messy Monday
If you don’t see me for the next 13 days, it’s because I’m trying to turn this:
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| Before |
Into this:
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| After |
All. Over. The. House. Before we leave for vacation. And without making myself crazy in the process.
Filed under decluttering, life, random, simplifying
To The Dads
Happy Father’s Day to all of the Fathers out there. To the new fathers, who are getting to experience the sweet, heartbreaking feeling of a sleeping newborn for the first time.
To the experienced fathers, who have been changing diapers, braiding hair and throwing footballs for many years.
To the great fathers.
To the fathers who are doing the best they can.
To the fathers who are vowing every day to do better.
To the fathers who are not fathers through birth or adoption but who have taken on the role for a friend or a relative or simply a child who was in need.
To the single mothers, who through choice or circumstance have acted as mother and father both.
To the fathers whose babies are no longer with them.
And finally, to the fathers at heart, who don’t yet have a child in their arms.
Today, I honor and appreciate all of you.
Filed under father's day, holidays, parenting
Haircuts and Hyprocrisy
I cut the boys’ hair yesterday. They’d been asking for awhile, and for various reasons it kept getting pushed further and further back. Since our vacation is fast approaching, we knew we had to commit to doing it and stick to it. Because I’m a dork – and simple things amuse me – I made this:
and Everett taped it to the wall. He and Paxton both called (from the next room) for their appointments, and Spencer looked at me and said, “Mommy. Can’t you just cut my hair?”
Party pooper 
When I got out the clippers for Everett’s mohawk, Tegan begged me to cut hers too. “Okay, sure,” I told her. “I’ll give you a trim,” even though I knew that a trim wasn’t what she really wanted.
She sat in the chair and I gave the very tips of some of her hair a tiny snip with scissors, and she cried. “No, with the clippers! I want it all cut off!! I want it like Spencer’s!” And it wasn’t the first time she’d asked.
Spencer’s hair post-clipping is even shorter than this:
Then (this is the part where I’m a hypocrite), as much as I believe in giving children choices and autonomy, as much as I respect her right to take ownership of her own hairstyle, as much as I know that in the bigger picture, shaving her head wouldn’t have mattered…
I talked her out of it.
Can you blame me?
My Promise to My Children
I ignore a lot of traditional parenting adages that come through my Facebook news feed. But every so often, one pops up that I have a hard time ignoring. A few days ago, several friends had posted this as their status:
My promise to my children. I am not your friend. I am your mom. I will stalk you, flip out on you, lecture you, drive you insane, be your worst nightmare & hunt you down like a bloodhound when needed because I LOVE YOU! When you understand that, I will know you are a responsible adult. You will NEVER find someone who loves, prays, cares and worries about you more than I do! Re-post if you are a parent and agree.♥
Really?
I’ve blogged in the past on my thoughts about being both parents and friends with your children, so I obviously wasn’t a fan right from the start of the quote. But it just got better as I read. Stalk? Flip out? Drive insane? Hunt you down like a bloodhound?
Am I a mom or a troubled suitor from a Lifetime TV Movie? And since when does making someone’s life a living nightmare equate to love?
Here’s my version, and my promise.
My promise to my children. I am your friend. I am your mom. I will protect you, listen to you, respect you, support you, be your strongest advocate & give you wings to fly when you are ready because I LOVE YOU. You will NEVER find someone who loves, prays, and cares about you more than I do.
I’m not here to be the warden. I’m here to be the mom.
Filed under gentle parenting, parenting
Plank Pullin’: Who me, stubborn?
It’s Plank Pullin’ time! The one day a week that we strongly resolve to ignore the multitude of specks and sawdust around us and pull one bona fide plank from our own eye. Matthew 7:3-5, style.
My dad is a very stubborn man. Don’t get me wrong, he’s also a very sweet man. A very kind man. A very funny man. But yes, he’s also as stubborn as all get out.
My husband is stubborn too. And it is mind. numbingly. frustrating. to me to talk with either one of them when they’ve dug in their proverbial heels about something.
So last night, I was laying in bed at 1:00 A.M… tossing, turning, trying to solve all the problems of the world… when I realized,
I’m more stubborn than both of them put together.
I have been a chronic insomniac for most of my adult life, and while – yes – there are multiple reasons for that, a large portion of the blame lands squarely on the fact that I am STUBBORN.
It drives me crazy when people offer unsolicited suggestions, mainly because I have tried them all (and gave up on them probably way too quickly)… but also because I am stubborn.
I don’t want to give up my coffee for the length of time needed to see if the lack of caffeine really makes a difference, because I truly need it to function when I’m in a particularly bad patch… but also because I am stubborn.
I watch TV or hop on the computer when I can’t sleep – both no-no’s in the world of the “get better sleep” tips… because I am stubborn.
I don’t enjoy not sleeping. I long for the days that I’ll sleep again. But I know that part of me chooses it. I could take more steps to get better, but I don’t. I could face the real issues (because I know the real issues) but I don’t. It’s easy, and safe, and familiar to keep going on as I have been, drinking my coffee, ignoring the elephant in the room, and failing to do the hard work required to face my demons and make things better.
I am stubborn. And I haven’t slept for the better part of two decades because of it.
Filed under plank pullin'
