Christmas is in six days. The shopping is done. This week I’ll bake cookies and clean the house and get food and wrap presents.
And I’m not especially happy. I enjoy certain aspects of the holidays to be sure, and I’m privileged in a lot of ways. But seasonal depression gets me every year, and my baseline in December tends to be mild to moderate depression no matter what I do. I’m tired (I never sleep), and I’m stressed. I pretty much try to just keep breathing, put one foot in front of the other, and get from now till New Years in one piece.
And I know I’m not alone.
On social media we’re bombarded with the happy, happy, happy, and the glowing twinkly lights, and the magic and the music and the JOY. We’re supposed to be feeling JOY, dammit. Few people want to talk about the other side. The side where even if you’re thankful, even if you’re doing everything “right”, the holidays are just hard. Few people want to be honest about it, fearing that if they say it out loud, it would make them the Scrooge, the ungrateful one who fails to get in the holiday spirit. And I get it. I do. Every year I’m torn between strapping on my smile and faking it till I make it, or admitting that no matter how lovely it all is on the surface, it is still hard. Life is still hard.
But there’s power in admitting it. And there’s power in community. And in fact, there’s something lovely about that too. Knowing that no matter what the holiday looks like, even if it doesn’t look like a holiday at all, that this is your time, too. Knowing that someone understands. Knowing that you matter. Knowing that you’re remembered.
So if the holidays are hard for you, if you’re unhappy right now…. whether because of
lack of family
lack of support
lack of funds
illness
anxiety
depression
grief
stress…
No matter what the case may be. I see you. And I truly do wish you a gentle holiday.
Earlier this year, Candace Cameron Bure (of Full House and Hallmark channel fame) left the Hallmark channel after starring in 30 something movies. She announced she was moving to a new channel, the Great American Family network, to focus more on faith-based projects. When asked about the network’s inclusion of LGBTQIA+ storylines in an interview this week, she stated that “Great American Family will keep traditional marriage at the core.”
She was fairly swiftly called out on social media for her comments, notably from JoJo Siwa who said, “Honestly, I can’t believe after everything that went down just a few months ago, that she would not only create a movie with intention of excluding LGBTQIA+, but then also talk about it in the press. This is rude and hurtful to a whole community of people.” Actress Hilarie Burton hit back even harder, calling her a bigot, and tweeting, “That guy and his network are disgusting. You too Candy. There is nothing untraditional about same-sex couples.”
Here’s the thing. Does Great American Family have the right to make any kind of programming they’d like? Yes. Does that make it kind or right or inclusive? No. Do people have the right to be hurt by this exclusion? Absolutely! And when someone lets us know they’re hurt by our actions, the right thing to do is to acknowledge it, apologize, and try to make it right. We need to start by believing them, not by doubling down and gaslighting them into thinking that they were wrong to be hurt in the first place.
Candace’s response to the backlash (I say “response” because it was absolutely not an apology) was to first blame the media for causing division, and then make it all about herself.
It absolutely breaks my heart that anyone would ever think I intentionally would want to offend and hurt anyone. It saddens me that the media is often seeking to divide us, even around a subject as comforting and merry as Christmas movies. But, given the toxic climate in our culture right now, I shouldn’t be surprised. We need Christmas more than ever.
A large part of the “toxic climate” in our culture right now is that there is still, in 2022, animosity and discrimination towards people in the LGBTQIA+ community. And when someone in that community steps up to say they are hurt by our words and/or our actions, we need to listen, and we need to do better. It is one thing to say that we love all people, but it’s another thing entirely to act in a way that directly contradicts those words. Words without action mean absolutely nothing.
Candace Cameron Bure uses her faith as a reason to exclude people. Let me be really clear when I say that I love God, and aspire to be like Jesus… but I completely and unequivocally disagree with people like Candace. Jesus loved – both the word AND the action – all people, but he especially loved those who were marginalized by the rest of society. Jesus was a model of what it meant to include, not exclude. He was a model of what it meant to accept people… not in a “love the sinner, hate the sin” kind of way, but in a real, genuine, “I accept you for exactly who you are, with no limits and no disclaimers.” Jesus was a model of what it meant to come together: Gay, straight, black, white, Christian, atheist… and everything in between.
I don’t doubt for a second that Jesus is not wringing his hands in distress over the depiction of same-sex relationships on TV. LGBTQIA+ people exist (yes, even among the Christian community!), and their stories, like their straight counterparts, deserve to be celebrated. This December, Hallmark is actually airing its first film with a leading same-sex couple, starring Jonathan Bennett of Mean Girls fame (love him). I am thrilled to see this for a few reasons, but mainly because it means that people spoke up. People spoke up, and instead of turning it around or getting defensive or using faith as a reason to exclude…
My oldest became a teenager twelve years ago, and my youngest (of four) is now 14. We’ve been at this teen gig for awhile now. And while society’s common teenage refrain tends to be a negative one – “Just wait till your kids are teens!” – I am finding myself appreciating the teen years more and more as time goes on. Here are five things I wish someone had told me before I had teens.
1. It doesn’t have to be the battle everyone says it will be. This is a stereotype that needs to die… the sullen, rebellious teenager whose main mode of communication is rolling their eyes and slamming the door… the fights over friends and curfews and clothing choices… the disrespect, the backtalking, the “I hate you” phase. It doesn’t have to be that way. No, teens are not perfect (no age is perfect), but given respect and freedom and autonomy, the transition can be a relatively smooth one. I have thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated all four of my kids as teens, and I actually think it’s one of my favorite ages. Teens are cool. They’re fun, they’re smart (more on that later) they’re funny. No longer dependent on you to fix their snacks and put them in the bath and pack their sippy cups, you get to relate to them on a whole new level. It takes some patience – there’s a whole lot of growth and big changes happening all at once – but if you can navigate the teen years as their partners instead of their adversaries, it is so, so worth it. Teens are awesome.
2. It’s okay to be their friend. I have written several times about being friends with your kids (you can read two of them here and here), but I think it’s never more important than it is when they are teenagers. Your teens need a good, faithful friend. Someone they can rely on. Someone they can come to with good news and bad. Someone who will give them honest advice. Someone who will listen, unconditionally. Someone they can laugh with, play with, have conversations with. Being a teen can be hard, but you can be their soft place to fall. Same age peers sometimes come and go, but you get the privilege of being a constant, someone they can count on no matter what. I credit a lot of different factors for having a good relationship with my teens, but being their friend is near the top of the list.
3. They’re like big toddlers. I mean this in the best possible way, so hear me out. One of the things I find most endearing and fascinating about toddlers is the way they are straddling two worlds. One moment they are still your baby, and the next they are strongly asserting their big kid independence. “I do it myself!” is a refrain that’s familiar to anyone who’s ever had a toddler. They are learning about testing their own limits, and about stepping out of their comfort zone. They’re learning about how good it feels to make some decisions on their own, and test of the waters of autonomy. At the same time, they have the safety and comfort of knowing they can be back in your arms at any time, and that you’re still their protector if life gets overwhelming or scary. Teenagers are the exact same way. They’ve got one foot firmly in adulthood, while the other is still a child that sometimes needs to seek the safety and familiarity of Mom. Both are valid, and both are okay. I love seeing both of these sides of my teens, and I’ve learned to be flexible as I never know which one I’m going to get. One minute they’re making big decisions about college and jobs and who to vote for in the upcoming election, and the next they’re letting us hold their hand while they cry. I am here for all of it.
4. There will be times they are smarter than you. There’s a stereotype that says that teens think they “know everything.” And while nobody knows everything, today’s teens are smart! I’ve learned that I sometimes need to humble myself enough to defer to them, and to recognize that sometimes they know more than I do. Whether it’s current events, how to handle a complicated social situation, or the ins and outs of that fancy new app, I am constantly learning from my teens. It would be counter productive and disengenuous to assume that I always know best just because I’m older. Kids, especially teens, know so much more than they’re given credit for. It is a pleasure and a privilege to be able to learn both with them and from them.
5. It will hurt when they move out. Two years ago, our then-20-year-old decided to move out and get his own place with a couple of friends. A year later he got married. And yes, we’d raised him to be confident and independent. He was ready. We were ready. But… it hurt. I wish someone had warned me how much it would take my breath away when he moved out. That as happy as I’d be for him, that a part of me would also have to mourn and grieve. While you’ll always be mom and dad, the dynamic changes completely once they’re out on their own. They’re working, they’re doing their own shopping and their own laundry, they’re making their own plans, they’re seeking their own healthcare. You’ve given them their wings, and your role as their parents is more different than it’s ever been. I am so thankful for the close relationship that we still have, one that has transitioned from a child and caregiver role, to one that’s respectful of his new independent adult life. I’m glad he still comes home, I’m glad he still texts us with news, I’m glad he still enjoys accompanying us out to eat and to ball games and to escape rooms. But the parenting landscape completely changes once they move out, and once you’re done grieving you have to be flexible enough to change with it.
Having and raising teens is one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. I’m more proud of my teens (and young adults!) than I’ve ever been of anything in my entire life. Parenting teens is not always easy, but very few things in life are. Some days are hard. But is it worth it? To check your ego at the door, and accept and respect your teens for all their complicated, constantly growing and changing perfectly imperfect glory? Yes. Yes. A million times, yes.
There’s a post making the rounds on Facebook about eight things the author believes are battles worth fighting (re: things he believes you should force them to do.) It came from a twitter post by a man named David Morris, and you can read the whole thread here.
As with most mainstream advice, I disagreed, and what follows is his list along with why I choose to do it differently.
Standard disclaimer: I don’t know the author, and this post is not about him but rather about the ideas he espouses. I don’t believe in picking battles with my kids, most especially not the eight things listed below. I would far rather live in harmony with them, show them through my words and actions what kind of person I want to be, and by extension what I hope for them and their lives as well.
I will not “battle” over any of the following:
Reading – Mr Morris believes you should make your kids read. To be fair, a lot of people believe you should make your kids read. But why? And I say this as an avid fan of reading. Reading is a tool, like any other. It’s a useful tool, to be sure. Reading opens the door to information, imagination, and inspiration. But it’s just one tool. There are many others. Some people like to watch videos. Some people like to listen to podcasts. Some people like to get hands on instruction. All are useful. All are valid options. Reading is not inherently more laudable than any other tool at our disposable. I have four kids, and they all have different relationships with reading. Some read for pleasure, some read for information, some read the news, some read fanfic. All are okay, all are acceptable. I refuse to be a reading snob.
Goingoutside – Make your kids go outside, he says. There they will find “discovery, wonder, peace, and joy,” and we need to make them go outside to find it. And absolutely, there are great things to be had in going outdoors. Hiking in the desert is one of my all time favorite things to do. But no one ever found peace in being forced to do something. No one ever found joy in a choice that was foisted on them by someone else. Going outside is one option of many. As with any activity that I enjoy, I might share, invite, and even encourage my kids to join me. But I would never force.
Work – None of my kids have ever been forced to do chores around the house, but they have all helped anyway. Why? Because we’re a family, and we work together. When I’ve wanted or needed help, I simply asked. (And when I say I asked, I literally ASKED. They had the option to say no.) Nine times out of ten, they happily helped. And that ten percent? The times they were busy or tired or simply not in the mood? There are times I’m busy or tired or not in the mood too. It’s part of being a human. As for translating into a work ethic in the real world: My 21 year old got his first full-time job about a year ago. He worked hard, was always on time, and was promoted to manager in less than a year. My 14 year old recently got a job of her own volition too. She works hard, is always on time, and has received nothing but praise from her manager and co-workers. I think they’re doing okay.
Eating meals together – This is a little weird to me. In our house, we do usually eat dinner together. The exceptions would be when someone is working, sleeping, playing a game they can’t/don’t want to break from, or some seasons when sports or activities made our schedule wonky. But we have plenty of friends who rarely eat dinner together, because life or preferences dictate otherwise, and they find other ways to connect and come together. There are lots of opportunities for sharing and connection in 24 hours. There’s nothing magical about sitting around a dinner table at a certain time.
Boredom – Make your kids live with boredom, Morris tells us, because they need unscheduled time. While I definitely agree that there is value to be had in unscheduled time, there is nothing wrong with helping a bored child find something to do. My kids rarely complain about being bored (because they too see the value in unscheduled time), but when they do we brainstorm together. Want to play a game? Watch a movie? Go for a walk? Sometimes boredom leads to other activities, creativity, and enjoyment, sometimes it leads to downtime, and sometimes it leads to nothing more than sitting in the boredom for awhile. Either way, it’s just another feeling to be had and dealt with, and certainly not something worthy of a battle.
Making your kids go last – The idea behind this one is that we challenge the “me first” attitude that he claims most kids are plagued with. We need to let them know that “the world doesn’t revolve around them,” because “most kids will elevate themselves above all others.” Wow, did this ever make me sad. What a mean-spirited and pessimistic way to look at children. What I’ve observed in my own children and their friends is the exact opposite. They are some of the most selfless and giving people I know. And you know how to raise selfless and giving kids? By being selfless and giving! By showing them what it looks like to put others first, not last. By treating them they way you’d like to be treated. I wouldn’t deliberately put anyone else I love last just to teach them a lesson, so why would I do it to my kids? I want my kids to see me caring for others, taking care of the people around me, being mindful of other people’s needs. And the best place to start is in the home, with them. As for the “me first” attitude, caring for yourself is important, too. The beauty of instilling a sense of kindness and compassion in your kids is that it extends to themselves too. They learn the importance of taking care of others, and the importance of self-care as well. Kids who are confident and feel good about themselves want others to feel good, too. It is a win-win.
Awkward conversation – Sure, I’ve had awkward conversations with my kids, just as I’ve had awkward conversations with other family, friends and loved ones. It’s just a part of life. It’s important to communicate, and sometimes communication is awkward, or difficult, or uncomfortable. But the kind of conversations he is talking about – sex, dating, body image, values – are conversations that are born out of an open and honest relationship, not something that is forced or put upon them against their will. My goal is to keep an open line of communication with my kids, so that they know they can come to me with questions, concerns, or just to talk something through. I’ve found the best way to do that is by first listening, not talking. Yes, there are, and will continue to be, times where they need to hear my words. But listening comes first, not the other way around.
Limitations – Ah yes, limits! A favorite of mainstream parenting advocates. We’re told “screen time limits, dietary limits, activity limits, and schedule limits are all good.” And don’t get me wrong. Limits are important. We all operate under a certain set of limits. But the limits that work for us, the limits that feel comfortable and doable, are instrinic limits, not limits forced on us by other people. It’s true of adults, and it’s true of children. The rub lies in trusting, partnering, and helping our children when it comes to limits, rather than imposing limits from our own arbitrary toolbox. What works for one child may be completely different for another. There are as many solutions to the question of limits as there are people. To use a few of his examples: diet, activity, and schedule are nothing if not personal. When given a supportive hands-on parent, and the freedom to do so, children learn to trust their bodies, their brains, and their own internal cues to tell them when they’ve had enough… whether it’s video games, sleep, or Flaming Hot Cheetos. Helping our children recognize and create their own limits results in balanced, healthy lives. Forcing children against their will results in resentful kids that will rebel as soon as they get the chance.
My primary goal when it comes to my kids is to treat them with kindness, respect, and the same amount of care I’d show anyone else I love. These relationships are the most meaningful I will ever have, and are not something I take for granted. Choosing force over partnership, and control over trust has no part in a healthy relationship… including, and especially, when it comes to my kids.
When I was around 16, I went on a date with an older classmate. I’ll call him Scott. Scott was a senior and I was a junior, and I’d known he’d had a crush on me for awhile. I wasn’t really interested…. not for any reason I could put my finger on; I guess he just wasn’t my type. He seemed nice enough though, and when he asked me to go to a movie, I reasoned that maybe I’d get to know him better and my feelings would change. In hindsight, I probably should have thanked him for the invite and declined, but I didn’t. So I went on a date with him and I wasn’t interested.
I don’t remember the movie we saw (which is weird, because I usually remember details like that), but I do remember that he put his arm around me at some point. A few minutes later, he asked if I was comfortable, and I answered truthfully that I was not. Physically, mentally… I just wasn’t comfortable. He kept his hands to himself after that.
All told, my discomfort lasted the entirety of the date. We chatted after the movie, and the whole ride home, but I just wasn’t feeling it. He mostly talked about himself during the drive, and I found myself bored and irritated. I felt bad about it. I had said yes to the date after all.
When we got back to my house he walked me to the door. We exchanged pleasantries, and he thanked me for going out with him. Then he leaned in to kiss me, and I….. stepped out of the way. He looked surprised, then asked me, “Can’t I kiss you goodnight?” Without thinking, and with great embarrassment, I answered, “I’d rather you didn’t.” I’m pretty sure we BOTH wanted the earth to swallow us up at that moment. But I didn’t want him to kiss me. I didn’t want him to kiss me a little bit. I didn’t want him to kiss me at all. So I said no.
To his credit, he mumbled something like, “okay,” and simply walked back to his car. (He then proceeded to go back to school and tell all his friends that he didn’t like me anymore because I was too “slow.” These things get back to you when you’re in highschool.)
I’ve been thinking about Scott ever since I read this article about a school that required all students at school dances to say yes when they were asked to dance. I found that policy to be unconscionable for many reasons, the least of which being that people (boys and girls both, regardless of age) have the right to say no. They have the right to say no to being touched, to being talked to, to doing anything that they feel uncomfortable with. What on earth kind of message are we sending our young people if we’re literally requiring them to say yes, perhaps against their will? What kind of precedent is that setting for the future when the stakes are higher? When the ask isn’t a 3.5 minute long dance, but an unwanted kiss, or touch, or sexual encounter?
One of the most powerful – and important – words in the English language is no. It’s important for our safety, our security, our autonomy, our happiness. It’s important for our confidence, for us to feel empowered by our choices, and to know that we are worth putting first. The word no reminds us that we are the ones in charge, no matter who is making the request, and that we have unconditional permission to set the boundaries we need to set to keep ourselves safe and comfortable. We have the right to say no. We have the right to say yes and then change our minds. We have the right to opt out of doing anything that we don’t fully and enthusiastically consent to.
I want my kids to know that “no” is a complete sentence, whether the request is a kiss, a dance at the prom, or any activity that they feel uncomfortable with. I want them to know that they are the only ones who get to decide who touches them or interacts with them, and how, and when, and for what reason. I want them to know that they shouldn’t feel bad or guilty for saying no, and that how the other person reacts isn’t their problem. I want them to know that anytime they are asked to do something that doesn’t sit right with them – whether it comes from a boss, a friend, or that cute boy in their chem class – that “no” is one of the strongest tools they have at their disposal.
My cheeks still flush when I think of that almost-kiss. It was just so embarrassing. But if I could go back to my 16 year old self and do it all over again, would I make the same decision? Yes.
A couple weeks ago, I was in a fitting room trying on some jeans and t-shirts. Spinning around and looking in one of those from-every-angle mirrors, I saw something I’d never noticed before.
I have back fat.
I just stared at it for awhile, this prominent little roll beneath my bra. “Huh. That’s new.” And the prevailing feeling was not one of dismay or disgust, but one of gratitude. I was grateful that I discovered this now, rather than a few years ago. A few years ago it would have unraveled me, and rendered me something just short of a weeping mess on the floor of the fitting room.
I’ve gained some 40 pounds in the past 4 years. Partly from age and a changing metabolism, partly from medication, and partly because I made a conscious decision to stop starving myself into a size six. I had trouble with the weight gain at first. I had trouble accepting it, trouble viewing myself as attractive, trouble thinking I was still worthy, and trouble thinking I was somehow “less than” than when I was residing in a smaller body.
I did the diets, did the exercise, and essentially tried to hate myself into a smaller jean size. I would lose weight temporarily, but eventually gain it back, plus a little more for good measure. (This seems a good a time as any to mention that that’s just the way diets work. The vast, vast majority – some sources say as much as 95% – of people who lose weight through dieting will gain it back, often gaining more than they lost in the first place. Diets don’t work long term.) My body just wanted to be bigger. Which meant that I could 1) Continue to fight with it, make myself miserable, and live in a constant cycle of shame, or 2) Learn to embrace it, to love myself and body exactly as they are, and to focus on gentle nutrition and regular movement as measures of self-care instead of punishment.
I chose option 2.
It’s been a journey to get here to be sure, and I’d be lying if I said I was 100% comfortable taking the photo that accompanies this post, but I am light years ahead of where I was. It would not be an exaggeration to say that my shift in mindset has been life changing.
Because I do love my body. Back fat and belly rolls and muffin tops and all. My body does everything I need it to do. It takes me on walks. It treks through the desert. It runs up and down the stairs fifty times a day. It does yoga and lifts weights and moves any way I ask it to move.
I eat food for nourishment, not to shrink my body. I eat in ways that make me feel pleasant, physically and emotionally both. I don’t count calories. I don’t stress out about macros. I eat foods that feel good in the moment. I eat plenty of protein, carbs and fats. I eat salads and chicken and veggies and warm chocolate chip cookies and birthday cake. I eat when I’m hungry, and I stop when I’m full. I refuse to go back down the road of obsessive control over what I eat or how I move, what the scale says or how my pants fit. I refuse to let the words of the multi-billion dollar diet industry become part of my vernacular, or part of my soul. I’m opting out.
My relationship with food and with my body, once disordered and antagonistic, has healed. My body is perfect the way it is. It is healthy and strong. It is capable of so many things. It is beautiful. Beauty (and health for that matter) comes in all shapes and sizes, and don’t let any “before and after” photos tell you otherwise.
And while I’m on the subject of before and after pictures, we have to stop commenting on people’s bodies, even if we think we’re being complimentary. We have no idea how or why someone lost weight or gained weight, and we have no idea what we may be praising. Thin is not the gold standard. Thin is not “better.”
If you want to aim for something, aim for health. (Hint: health doesn’t have one singular “look.”) Thin bodies can be healthy. Larger bodies can be healthy.
Beyond all that though? Our bodies and our weight are literally the least interesting things about us. Yes, our bodies are worthy. They are worthy of existing and taking up space, exactly as they are: thin, fat, short, tall, curvy, flat… but at the end of the day, they are just pretty exteriors for our hearts and our souls.
We see it happen again and again. The topic is always different, but it goes something like this:
A brand new mom has had a rough few weeks. The baby is up all night, and mom’s exhausted. She’s struggling to find her rhythm breastfeeding. Her nipples are sore. Her body feels like a stranger’s. It’s been days since she’s had a proper shower, and postpartum depression is circling in the background. She’s overwhelmed.
She logs her sleep-deprived self into Facebook, and pens her lament, just hoping for a little bit of support. And she does get support. But before too long, she inevitably also gets:
“Try doing it with twins.”
“Just wait until you have a toddler AND a newborn.”
“At least you’re not working.”
“Just be thankful your son is healthy.”
Suddenly this poor mom isn’t being supported anymore, but shamed instead. Others have it worse. SHE could have it worse. She should be grateful. She shouldn’t complain. She shouldn’t have feelings. Certainly not negative ones. And if God forbid she does have them, she shouldn’t be voicing them. That’s a privilege for those who have it really bad, those who’ve earned the right to complain.
We play this cruel game of one-uppance instead of holding one another up. We extend sarcasm instead of empathy. We invalidate instead of listen.
And we’re our own worst enemies too, because if someone doesn’t do it to us first, we do it to ourselves. In this age of perma-toxic-positivity we think it’s “bad” to entertain a negative emotion. “I shouldn’t be complaining. I should be grateful. It could be so much worse. I really am lucky.” And around and around, stuffing and twisting and denying until we feel like we’re going to crack.
But people are allowed to feel things. All people. All things.
Yes, gratitude is wonderful. And yes, there will always be someone who has it worse. But neither of those things make what you’re going through any less real. Your feelings are valid. Your feelings are always valid. You’re allowed to be: tired. sad. overwhelmed. angry. hurt. grieving. And anything and everything in between.
You’re also allowed to share said feelings, and if someone minimizes you and makes it about them, that’s a them problem not a you problem. It doesn’t feel good to be invalidated when you’re vulnerable (it literally just happened to me before I started writing this), but your truth is still your truth.
And sure, it’s not a good idea to snuggle up and live in the negative feelings. The beauty of being a human is that we have access to a full range of emotions; emotions that are constantly ebbing and flowing. Negative emotions are almost always eventually replaced with positive ones. But dang, some seasons are just plain HARD. Some days … some weeks … some months … some years… Sometimes life is hard.
You’re allowed to feel your feelings. Your friends are allowed to feel their feelings. It’s not a competition about who has it worse. When someone trusts us enough to invite us in to their heartaches, it’s our job to support, to lean in, to encourage, to just sit with them in the middle of the muck and the mire….
NOT disrespect them by telling them why they shouldn’t be feeling that way in the first place.
Yesterday, I posted this meme on my Facebook page. I think it’s important to make the dangers of spanking an ongoing discussion, so I never hesitate to share resources when I come across them.
The very first comment said this: (*edited for grammar and punctuation.)
Stop trying to tell parents what to do with their children. If they’re not being abused you need to mind your own business.
Now, it stands to be said that this meme was not aimed at that woman, or at any one person in particular. It was about the concept of spanking. If you read a meme like that, and feel defensive or angry, I’d gently suggest that you examine why. If you’re confident that your own choices are correct, why would it bother you? You don’t know me, you don’t know the meme author… what does it matter what we think?
Beyond that though, there are some fundamental flaws in this argument. First, no one is telling anyone what do to do. The meme is sharing information. What you choose to do, or not do, with that information is up to you.
Second, and far more important, is this idea of “minding your own business.” There are many, many facets of parenting in which we should mind our own business, to be sure. It’s none of my business whether you work or stay home, or how you choose to educate, or what kind of religion you practice, or how your kids dress, or what they eat, or where they sleep or whether or not you breastfeed. If they are safe and cared for, you are absolutely correct. It’s none of my business.
Here’s the thing though. Spanking is not a parenting issue. It’s a human rights issue, and we should ALL make it our business to care about human rights issues. Children have the right to be safe from harm in their own home. They have the right to bodily autonomy. They have the right to expect kind and gentle and loving discipline that does not include laying of hands on their body. Hitting should never, ever be conflated with love. There’s a reason why it’s called assault to hit another adult. Physically assaulting another person is wrong (especially when that person is young, small, and/or defenseless), and we know this.
We know this.
And I can’t help but think that people wouldn’t get so defensive about it if deep down they didn’t know it was true.
Mistreatment of marginizalized members of society (and children are about as marginalized as they come) is something that we should all care about. It’s something that we should ALL make our business. Children can’t speak for themselves, so someone has to do it for them. Spanking is harmful, and people need to know about it. And to be perfectly blunt about it, I don’t care if you don’t think it’s my business.
When we learn of fellow human beings being harmed? It’s always our business.
December is hard. The holidays are stressful, seasonal depression is a regular companion, and life is too busy. This year, December is especially hard. About a month ago, Tegan’s hedgehog Crouton died suddenly. He woke up unable to walk, and just quietly slipped from this life while she was holding him on her lap. 11 days later, we learned that our sweet 14 year old dog Sophie had advanced liver failure, and the next day we said goodbye, surrounding her with love and pets while the vet gently and respectfully set her free. We miss them both terribly, and are struggling under the black cloud that has descended on the season.
Still, life goes on around us even as we grieve. Christmas will be here in 20 days whether we’re ready or not, and I’m settling in to make the next 20 days as stress free as possible. We’re hosting Christmas at our house this year (for the first time since pre-COVID), so our to-do list is longer than it’s been in awhile. Here’s what’s getting me through:
Nothing has to be perfect. I have always been a person who struggles with perfectionism and black and white/all or nothing thinking. But 1) perfect doesn’t exist, and 2) THAT’S OKAY. My house keeping skills as of late can very much be described as, “There appears to have been a struggle.” I plan to do a good deep clean, as well as a general tidying up, before Christmas, but it occurred to me today that even if I don’t get to it, even if end up with a houseful of guests in a cluttered home with a cloudy bathroom mirror, it’ll be okay. They’re coming to see us, not our house. And the same goes for presents and cookies and all the other details my brain wants to get hung up on. What gets done, gets done. I can let go of the rest.
Reframe busy days as productive. I learned this from one of the kid’s therapists. Busy days stress me the hell out, but thinking of them as productive puts a positive spin on even the busiest day. For some reason, we always end up with a lot of appointments and driving around in December … Dentists, orthodontists, shopping, errands, etc. From now on, every appointment, every task crossed off the list, will be considered something productive accomplished, instead of another headache endured. Small things count, too. So far today I refilled my meds organizers for the next two weeks, spent a long time doing some online shopping for the kids, and worked on this blog post. Productive.
Self-care is a priority. When I’m stressed out (or overwhelmed or depressed or or), my self-care tends to get unceremoniously kicked to a back burner. But times of stress are when self-care matters the most. Eating well, moving, slowing down, and sleeping all work together to make for a healthier me. Sleep especially is HUGE when it comes to my mental health, so I’m making sure I’m getting enough hours, going to bed early, and taking sleep-aids when I need them. As simplistic as it sounds, I’m also making it a point to get dressed, brush my teeth and hair, and just generally practice good hygiene …. UNLESS what I’m really needing is a pajama day. In which case, I honor that too.
Live in the moment. Another thing I’ve long struggled with is getting hung up on what’s to come, rather than enjoying the present moment. While I’m undoubtedly a work-in-progress in this area, I’m far better than I used to be. Life is a whole lot less stressful if you’re not worrying about the future. To that end, I’m trying to gently nudge myself back to the here and now when I find myself slipping. And right now? Right now, I’m writing – one of my favorite things – the house is quiet, everyone’s happily involved in their own things, and I’m sucking on a raspberry Tootsie Pop. Right now, life is good.
Be grateful. Listen. I’m the first person to turn my nose up at toxic positivity, good-vibes-only lines of thinking. All feelings are valid (see point 6) but there is indeed something to be said for taking stock of all you have to be grateful for even (or especially?) during trying times. From the material: a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, cars to get us where we need to go, to the intangible: our health, our friends, our family. And don’t forget the little things! A good cup of coffee, my dog’s favorite bone, and my husband’s oversized hoodie all made my list today.
Feel my feelings. Having bipolar, I have more practice than the average person in learning to recognize, accept, and deal with a variety of feelings, but it is unquestionably something we all can get better at. All feelings are valid. Let me say it again: ALL FEELINGS ARE VALID. This month especially, when life is all whirly swirly and crazy around me, I’m going to let myself feel what I feel, whether it’s happy, content, excited, sad, anxious, overwhelmed, stressed… I’ll feel the feeling, accept the feeling, and let myself ride the wave till it’s gone. One thing I’ve learned (that has proven to be true again and again) is that a negative feeling will always, eventually, be replaced with a positive one.
Focus on the bright spots. A couple of weeks ago, Tegan adopted an adorable pair of dumbo rat babies. If you’re not familiar with rats as pets, they are sweet, smart, and social. They’re basically like teeny tiny dogs, and getting them out to bond and play has been the highlight of my day most days of the week. It has helped immensely to have something sweet to look forward to every day, and has made me even more committed to enjoying the offering of a few minutes of happiness, in whatever form they come in.
Focus on someone other than myself. This is delicate for me, because I strongly believe that we really shouldn’t shout it from the rooftop when we do nice things for others. It feels… self-serving?… when people post about good deeds or charitable giving, because it puts the focus on YOU, rather than letting the action stand on its own. I think it should be done quietly. What I will say though is that the holidays changed for us, in an amazing way, when we decided to make a conscious effort to focus a good portion of our giving to those outside of our own immediate circle. The beautiful thing about it is that it doesn’t matter how much or how little you personally have; there is always some way to give back and show kindness to others…. not just at Christmas, but at any time of year.
Take a cue from the kids. While all four of my kids have traits that are worth emulating, it’s my youngest that I’m looking to this holiday season. At thirteen, she is the perfect mixture of teenaged grace and childlike wonderment. She is so excited for Christmas, and for her new rats, and for seeing her friends, and for spending time with her family…. all while mourning her very loved hedgehog, and the dog that grew up beside her. She reminds me to be gracious, to be kind, and to live and love hard. She is amazing, and everything I aspire to be.
Remember that it’s just a season. Seasons change. It’s just a fact of life. Some seasons are longer, or more difficult, but they still eventually give way to something better. No matter what I do, 2021 will be over in less than four weeks, and we’ll be into the new year. I’ve always loved New Years because it feels like fresh starts and new beginnings and shiny Trapper Keepers on the first day of school. I go back to school for my second bachelors on January 10th, so I’m looking forward to that, too. But in the spirit of living in the moment, I’m going to breathe and take in and live in this moment. This season. This day. 20 days before Christmas.
My lollipop is long gone, I’m sipping on a hot chocolate, and my family is piled on the couch beside me watching TV.
At the time of this writing, my kids are 13, 17, 21 and 24.
(Give me a minute while I stop and digest that. Whew. Okay.)
The 21 and 24 year olds are adults – and one of them is married – so while I would absolutely have a conversation if a situation arose, or if they asked for help in some way, my involvement is different from that of their siblings. And as adults, their decisions are their own.
As for the teens, the general narrative that I’m hearing lately tells me that I should be limiting their access, disallowing things like TikTok, checking their messages, and essentially living in fear that the big, bad, boogeyman of the internet at large is going to swoop them up, right under my nose.
But I’m not afraid.
And don’t get me wrong. I have a healthy amount of respect and caution for all things internet and social media related. Yes, they can be misused. Yes, they can hold dangers. Yes, they can be harmful.
Here’s the thing though. I have much more confidence in keeping my kids safe if I’m helping them navigate these things, rather than forbidding and/or controlling them. Why? Because forbidding them is going to ensure that they won’t talk to me about it in the future. It makes it more likely for them to feel like they need to hide things from me. It makes it more likely for them to seek out those activities in private (at school, at friends’ houses, on a secret phone…) without any guidance or input at all. Instead of encouraging conversation, it halts it. If I give them a blanket statement about it being “unsafe”, it will inevitably lead to distrust when they eventually learn that the internet and social media can be wonderful tools that help keep us engaged, informed, entertained, and connected.
I don’t remember how old any of my kids were when they got their own phones, as we didn’t wait for any specific age. Rather we waited for them to express an interest, to show that they were ready, and to demonstrate that they had the maturity and skill set to use it safely.
That does NOT mean – and I feel it’s super important that I say this expressly and clearly – that they were handed phones, told “have fun”, and then left alone. On the contrary, we were extremely involved, right from the start. We became their friends on Facebook, we followed them on Instagram. We talked. And we talked, and we talked, and we talked some more. We kept an open line of communication, so that when bobbles happened (and there have been a couple) they’d know that they could come to us, and we could help them work through them safely and effectively. They know they can come to us about anything, and that we will listen to them, without judgment, and without condemnation.
The best part? The transparency means I get to be invited into their world. I get to hear about the friends they’re talking to, the things they’re watching on YouTube, their favorite TikTokers, the games they’re playing. I get to be there. As I write, my 13 year old sits beside me, scrolling through TikTok and occasionally pausing one to share it with me. She always shares the things she posts too (and she is hysterical), and I pride myself on being the first one to like them. At 17, her brother isn’t quite as forthcoming as she is, but I still don’t worry. The conversations are still open and honest, and sharing comes easily. Just this morning he shared something personal that he absolutely didn’t have to share, and I knew – and deeply appreciated – that he still considered me a safe person.
You can’t keep your kids in bubble wrap. You can’t keep them from all potential harm. What you can do is walk through life beside them, with trust, respect, and communication, with the hope and the confidence that when it’s time for them to fly alone, you’ll both be ready.
I'm Jen... the shy, lost girl from the east coast who married at nineteen and eventually found herself - four kids later - in the middle of the desert. I like chocolate. You can read more about me here.
A ridiculous amount of coffee is consumed in the process of writing these blog posts. If you enjoy my work, I'd be extremely grateful if you added some fuel to keep me going!
