As I get older, my bedtime seems to get earlier. I mean I could try to stay up but it would only happen with a nap somewhere along the line. I remember when I was a teenager and my parents would stay up and watch late night talk shows and Saturday Night Live. I didn’t realize it back then – but they were taking a nap somewhere in there.
My husband and I have had a back and forth conversation over the past year or so about bedtimes and teenagers. We usually have the conversation about 10:00 pm when we are in bed settling down for the night to watch a bit of television before calling it a night. The topic pops up because we notice that our teenagers are still up wandering around the house. It is a different time in our lives for sure. Having children awake when you go to bed is a weird feeling.
It is still easy to tell our 12 year old and 10 year old that they need to be in bed by a certain time and lights out at a certain time. But we find it to be one of those gray areas with our teenagers. I don’t recall my parents giving me a bedtime during the summer. There were other rules though. No telephone past 10:00pm. Things like that. I remember wanting to be in my room. Listening to music. Reading. Homework. Whatever. But rarely did they tell me to go to bed. I would just be in my room and asleep before my parents ever went to bed. (Besides there was very little to do late at night prior to the world of computers and cell phones.)
During the summer, teenage bedtimes were not really implemented. They had a curfew to be inside and no longer running out in the neighborhood. But not a time to be in bed. We found them staying up watching television, playing Call of Duty with friends on Xbox, chatting on Facebook into the late night hours of 1 or 2 in the morning. My husband and I would still head upstairs at our usual 10:00pm slot. We would hear the opening of doors, cabinets, refrigerator, pantry door, feet up and down the stairs and even occasionally the garage door. My husband asks, “What are they doing?” It can be distracting.
Now that school has started we are trying to reach a reasonable agreement for them to be in bed. Most nights they are tired during the week since they have football practice right after school. But our dilemma will probably fall predominantly on weekends. That being said, we know we need to lay down a rule regarding school nights and weekends during the school year. Especially with the technological advances that allow them to be endlessly and eternally “social”.
Saturday night the boys were all out playing “Manhunt”, a modern day form of hide and seek, with a crew from the neighborhood. We told them they had to be in the house by 10:30 p.m. – we don’t love the idea of teenagers just randomly running the neighborhood unsupervised late into the night. Additionally, we had had a long day and frankly didn’t feel like staying up late and waiting for them to come home, knowing there had been no Manhunt casualties that evening. Our Saturdays are pretty full. This particular day had been filled with Nutcracker rehearsal, football practice, an actual football game, birthday shopping for a party the next day, manicures/pedicures, and waverunning on the Chesapeake. Surely it was not ridiculous for my husband and I to be ready for bed at our usual 10 pm. So there we laid feeling drowsy but hesitant to allow ourselves to fall asleep because the moment we did the garage door would open and rowdy teenagers would be raiding the kitchen. We found ourselves annoyed and that bedtime conversation arose again.
So when Sunday night arrived my husband and I headed up the stairs at 10 pm. We get settled. Television on low. Lights off. Ready to go to sleep to prepare for the start of another Monday morning. We both agree that it’s time to turn off the television. Shortly after, we hear the footsteps. In and out of the bathroom. Flushing the toilets. Refrigerator door opened. Closed. Into the laundry room, checking the dryer. In and out of their bedrooms. The next thing we know one of them is walking into our bedroom – into the master bathroom – hunting for the Aloe Vera for his sunburn. He finds it. Back down the stairs. There goes the garage door…obviously searching for food and drink in the outside fridge now. Guess what conversation starts again?
What is the rule going to be? Do I tell my 16 and 14 year olds that they have to be in bed by a certain time? Does this mean lights out? Do I need to clarify the use of cell phones and computers? What if they have studying to do? Can they stay up and read for pleasure? Exactly what boundaries are we going to put around “bedtime” for teenagers? My husband and I revisit the issue again. We decide that we will set a timer that the wireless connection to their devices will be shut off and that we will require them to be in their rooms at a certain time with the inability to have access socially.
Now there is another situation that has to be addressed here that these rules do not necessarily diffuse. I know that some may feel this may be an inappropriate forum to discuss this but we parents need to stick together. Besides- my husband and I have googled this situation and there just isn't much written about it - yet we know it goes on in every household that has teenagers and it really is a problem. Now if you just have one or two children this may not be a problem for as great a length of time. But I have four children. My youngest is 10. My husband and I have been enduring this scenario for 2 years now and realize that we have another 8 ahead of us. That's an entire decade and it is definitely getting more difficult the older they get!
Remember the days when you planned nights that the children would go to bed early because of “marital relationship” reasons. It’s not really like that anymore. Well at least not in my home. It is difficult to say the least to think about spending that “quality” time with your spouse when you have constant activity in the house. I miss the days when the kids were all in bed asleep and you didn’t have to plan some sort of stealth mission in order to have a romantic evening. They were asleep and unless someone was sick – you had the next 8 hours to yourselves. Welp, this is no longer the case with teens in the house. They are always awake later than you. Even if banished to their rooms – let’s be honest here – they are going to be up and aware of what is going on. There is no such thing as "private" time.
So it goes like this. You are in the midst of “alone” time. Teenager #2 down the hallway is listening to his music, strumming his guitar or even practicing on his keyboard. Hard to ignore that he is there. Teenager #1 is in the basement. We hear the footsteps. Cupboards opening. Suddenly the roar of the icemaker – guess he is thirsty. We freeze like deer in headlights while we wait to see where he is headed next. We begin to whisper to each other. “What do you think?” “Should we close the door?”
Now this is where things get sticky. Do we close the door? Let’s see. Close the door and the teenagers in the house know FOR SURE what is going on at that moment, don’t they? Leaves you with a strange feeling. Not just that, but you know you have to lock it too. Wow. Do we want them to know what is going on and exactly when it is going on? It would be nice to have some privacy left to our lives. But clearly we can’t leave the door open because they come and go as they please. Let’s not forget that just last night my 16 year old waltzed right into my room and into my bathroom without knocking or saying anything prior to entry. He just assumed we were sleeping. We could just start closing our door and locking it every night so that closing the door has nothing to do with what may be going on behind it. Except I do still have a 10 year old that I need to hear and I do have a 12 year old that sleepwalks and he has been known to walk all over the house during the night. As parents, we’d like to be aware. But in all honesty, if we started closing our bedroom door every night now after 16 years of it being opened every night – it could prompt some questions, huh? So our dilemma continues.
For all of the weepy moments I have when I consider the days of them being gone – I need to remember those nights that are constantly interrupted or even ended with their intrusive presence. Perhaps this is part of the design, you know, preparing us for their being gone one day. I was reminded of a silly banter that used to go back and forth between my mother and myself. When I would spend the night away I would say to my mother, “You missed me didn’t you?” She always replied, “It was a nice miss.” I think I may finally understand what she could have meant. So here is my advice to parents of young children – start sleeping with your door closed and even locked now. When they are teenagers you’ll thank me.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
When Do You Say No?
I think one of the most difficult things in parenting is making choices that will affect the happiness of your child. I'm not talking about saying no to ice cream when they have already had cookies and making them unhappy. We all know there are things in life that our children seem to be drawn to whether they be hobbies, sports, or even people sometimes, that we as parents can see are not healthy for our children. Children are too young and naive to see the big picture and understand that perhaps an environment is not the appropriate place for them or that a person is not the best choice to trust. They are very trusting souls and see the world very differently than an educated adult. Probably one of the reasons why so many children are reported missing every year. They trusted someone - maybe for just a moment.
Through the years, I have made many choices that were difficult based on my sense of right and wrong. I tend to see things very black and white and I know that is not always good - but I do know that I have a very strong sense of what I feel is right or wrong morally and ethically based on how I want to raise my children and it has never been easy for me to go against those things I feel deeply within me. Especially when it concerns my children. We don't make references to "mama bears and their cubs" for no reason.
When my children were much younger I could keep tighter reins on those situations. I could encourage friendships with playdates of those that seemed to be positive influences. I could limit those that were negative. As they got older, that became more difficult. Children will make friends based on a variety of things. Perhaps they play the same sport, like the same clothes or something as simple as liking the same ice cream. In a perfect world, it would be great to allow friendships to bloom under such simplicity. But we don't live in a perfect world and as a parent I feel the need to show more discernment while raising my family.
I can count numerous situations from which I have guided my children away. The gossip. The bully. The troublemaker. The liar. We all know exactly what I'm talking about. You take your child to preschool and there is one child there that spits and pushes and kicks and uses "potty mouth" and the next thing you know that is the mother that is calling you to have your child over for a playdate. You suddenly become the busiest family in the history of the world because what are you really going to say? "Your child is mean and unkind and I won't allow my child to engage in that behavior?" Don't we wish we could say that? Instead we lie.
What about those situations when you are friends with the parents of other children? Then you find that you parent your children very differently from your friends. Their kids run all over town with fevers, coughs and snotty noses and don't think twice about bringing them to your home without so much as a warning to you. At that point the friendships will die away because you seem to have something else to do EVERYTIME they are looking to get together. When what we really want to say is, "Please don't bring your child ill to my home." Is that really wrong to say? The kicker is that we shouldn't even have to say it all. Isn't that common sense? All 4 of my children are asthmatics. When they were young, any little cold became an ear infection, upper respiratory infection and sinus infection with weeks and weeks of nebulizing them 4 times a day, oral steriods and antibiotics. But many that didn't have that situation at home didn't understand my situation and unfortunately didn't respect it and labeled me a "germaphobe".
What about the situations when you are invited into a social group of families and the invitations to get together on a regular basis include the kids? Friday and/or Saturday nights are spent hanging out with multiple families and you learn that your children are being bullied in the basement by the host and hostess' child while the adults are on the floor above oblivious to the situation consuming alcoholic beverages and letting the kids fend for themselves. Is this when we say, "The kids aren't getting along very well. Apparently there is some bullying happening between the kids." Or do we just politely begin to decline the invitations until we are no longer invited and become gossiped about now? I know what I chose.
My two oldest children attended public elementary school for a couple of years. After a few "situations" I decided to homeschool. There was a scenario that one of my children was being bullied on the playground. It went on for weeks. My son was being held down, taking his shoes off and they played "Keep Away" with his shoes. After about 3 weeks of questioning him repeatedly about why his socks looked like that everyday he finally confessed to me what was happening to him at school. But that is not what hurt - because I know that kids will be kids. It's when I called the school to report it, the Guidance Counselor suggested that they have my son eat his lunch in her office with another student that she would choose to be "kind" to him to help foster a friendship. She informed me that "This is what we do with children who have trouble making friends." My child was being bullied - yet HE was the one they were going to counsel. Interesting tactic. I began homeschooling. I received dozens of phone calls wanting to know why I was homeschooling. I chose not to discuss it with any of those parents because it was private and I was protecting my 8 year old son from further ridicule. They gossiped. I remember one parent saying to me, "You think you are too good for our school?"
Eventually you can't protect them in that way anymore. Children remain so hopeful. So certain that we are wrong in what we are seeing. Years passed dealing with sports teams, evaluations, try-outs etc. We watched parents jockey for positions with coaches and battle for playing time for their kids. We watched parents step up to coach teams to ensure that their kids would play the top level or best positions and subsequently go get all of their child's friends to play together. Some teams almost appeared to be neighborhood against neighborhood. When did recreational sports become so political? Everyone always looking out for themselves. Never remembering it was about the kids. Kids just want to play. They are resilient. But we entered into the world of "everyone gets a trophy" because they participated and their parents forked over $20 each to the coach to buy them a trophy, rather than actually feeling the satisfaction of winning after hard work and practice - or for that matter learning to deal with loss. Because we aren't always going to be winners in life.
We are a wrestling family. All 3 boys wrestle, while Dad coaches. There are no "evaluations" or "cuts". Tryouts in wrestling go like this: 2 kids, same weight class...they wrestle each other. The winner gets the starting spot. The loser can challenge again next week. May the best man win and there is no denying each match who that was. There is a clear winner and a clear loser though it could always change after hardwork and determination. But over the years, my boys have played every sport under the sun with the exception of basketball. Soccer, football, t-ball, baseball, wrestling, golf, lacrosse - been there done that. We follow the rules. Pay our money, shuffle them to all of the evaluations and try-outs, accept whatever the team placement, make all of the practices, never complain about what position they play or how much game time they get. We show up and cheer them on to give them the childhood memories. Because that is what it is all really about. Perhaps I am the only parent that doesn't believe my boys are going to be big professional sports stars after winning their huge college scholarships. I have talked with so many parents that have made decisions to leave sports that their children loved playing because of the circumstances that the kids were playing within. We've all seen the videos of the ranting and raving that goes on now - parents and coaches alike.
This year one of my son's made the A team for football. Our family has never been big on the whole A or B team thing. Because really why does it matter? Do you think that when our kids are grown men in the workplace they are going to strut around to their collegues saying, "Well when I played on the A Travel Select Team for such and such...?" Doubt it. Anyhow, we had encouraged him to play on the B team. We knew based on our past sports encounters, that the whole experience would be less intense if he just played on the B team. As life would have it - he made the A team and insisted on playing there. We tried to convince him otherwise. But he is 12 now and he wouldn't hear of it. So we drive him to practices 5 days a week starting in July, 3 days a week after school starts, buy all of the gear, pads, shoes, equipment, and fill our calendar with weekend dates every single weekend from August to November with games. My husband goes to watch the first scrimmage and for the first 30 minutes, my son stands on the sidelines. Welcome to the A team, son. Should we as parents not have given him the choice? Should we have said B team or nothing? Hard decisions for a parent. Sometimes kids have to learn things by allowing their decisions to sit and let the child live out the consequences.
Right now we are in the midst of another decision. Another scenario where I as a parent can see the big picture that my child cannot. The child sees the smiles and the words said directly to their face. What happens when I as a parent see what happens behind their back? What happens when I am faced with the caddiness of other parents and know that what my child sees isn't reality? I know the truth of the situation. I know that it is an environment of falsehood. My child wants to believe that there is support and friendship on the horizon.
How many times do we watch our children participate in things or forge relationships with people that we know are not positive? That if we are honest, have the capability of being toxic in our lives. I wish I had more courage to walk away when I know a negative experience is about to breach. But when the kids get older, they blame you as the parent for interference. They don't realize that you are the only person on this earth who truly has only their best interest at heart. I wish they knew that no one else will ever love them the way I do and no one else will ever want their happiness and success more than me. But as long as I am standing between them and what they think will make them happy - I will be the bad guy.
I can't change the world. I've learned enough in my time to know that most times I will not go in and fight for my kid against things I know to be wrong - because by myself, I am not going to change one person, let alone a full blown organization or business. I know as a parent I swallow it and all that it is going to be - the good, the bad and the ugly. I always end up praying that there will be more good than ugly. But the truth is that it is what it is. A parent has to decide if they are going to allow their child to find out on their own. But my question is: Is that fair when we are older and wiser?
Through the years, I have made many choices that were difficult based on my sense of right and wrong. I tend to see things very black and white and I know that is not always good - but I do know that I have a very strong sense of what I feel is right or wrong morally and ethically based on how I want to raise my children and it has never been easy for me to go against those things I feel deeply within me. Especially when it concerns my children. We don't make references to "mama bears and their cubs" for no reason.
When my children were much younger I could keep tighter reins on those situations. I could encourage friendships with playdates of those that seemed to be positive influences. I could limit those that were negative. As they got older, that became more difficult. Children will make friends based on a variety of things. Perhaps they play the same sport, like the same clothes or something as simple as liking the same ice cream. In a perfect world, it would be great to allow friendships to bloom under such simplicity. But we don't live in a perfect world and as a parent I feel the need to show more discernment while raising my family.
I can count numerous situations from which I have guided my children away. The gossip. The bully. The troublemaker. The liar. We all know exactly what I'm talking about. You take your child to preschool and there is one child there that spits and pushes and kicks and uses "potty mouth" and the next thing you know that is the mother that is calling you to have your child over for a playdate. You suddenly become the busiest family in the history of the world because what are you really going to say? "Your child is mean and unkind and I won't allow my child to engage in that behavior?" Don't we wish we could say that? Instead we lie.
What about those situations when you are friends with the parents of other children? Then you find that you parent your children very differently from your friends. Their kids run all over town with fevers, coughs and snotty noses and don't think twice about bringing them to your home without so much as a warning to you. At that point the friendships will die away because you seem to have something else to do EVERYTIME they are looking to get together. When what we really want to say is, "Please don't bring your child ill to my home." Is that really wrong to say? The kicker is that we shouldn't even have to say it all. Isn't that common sense? All 4 of my children are asthmatics. When they were young, any little cold became an ear infection, upper respiratory infection and sinus infection with weeks and weeks of nebulizing them 4 times a day, oral steriods and antibiotics. But many that didn't have that situation at home didn't understand my situation and unfortunately didn't respect it and labeled me a "germaphobe".
What about the situations when you are invited into a social group of families and the invitations to get together on a regular basis include the kids? Friday and/or Saturday nights are spent hanging out with multiple families and you learn that your children are being bullied in the basement by the host and hostess' child while the adults are on the floor above oblivious to the situation consuming alcoholic beverages and letting the kids fend for themselves. Is this when we say, "The kids aren't getting along very well. Apparently there is some bullying happening between the kids." Or do we just politely begin to decline the invitations until we are no longer invited and become gossiped about now? I know what I chose.
My two oldest children attended public elementary school for a couple of years. After a few "situations" I decided to homeschool. There was a scenario that one of my children was being bullied on the playground. It went on for weeks. My son was being held down, taking his shoes off and they played "Keep Away" with his shoes. After about 3 weeks of questioning him repeatedly about why his socks looked like that everyday he finally confessed to me what was happening to him at school. But that is not what hurt - because I know that kids will be kids. It's when I called the school to report it, the Guidance Counselor suggested that they have my son eat his lunch in her office with another student that she would choose to be "kind" to him to help foster a friendship. She informed me that "This is what we do with children who have trouble making friends." My child was being bullied - yet HE was the one they were going to counsel. Interesting tactic. I began homeschooling. I received dozens of phone calls wanting to know why I was homeschooling. I chose not to discuss it with any of those parents because it was private and I was protecting my 8 year old son from further ridicule. They gossiped. I remember one parent saying to me, "You think you are too good for our school?"
Eventually you can't protect them in that way anymore. Children remain so hopeful. So certain that we are wrong in what we are seeing. Years passed dealing with sports teams, evaluations, try-outs etc. We watched parents jockey for positions with coaches and battle for playing time for their kids. We watched parents step up to coach teams to ensure that their kids would play the top level or best positions and subsequently go get all of their child's friends to play together. Some teams almost appeared to be neighborhood against neighborhood. When did recreational sports become so political? Everyone always looking out for themselves. Never remembering it was about the kids. Kids just want to play. They are resilient. But we entered into the world of "everyone gets a trophy" because they participated and their parents forked over $20 each to the coach to buy them a trophy, rather than actually feeling the satisfaction of winning after hard work and practice - or for that matter learning to deal with loss. Because we aren't always going to be winners in life.
We are a wrestling family. All 3 boys wrestle, while Dad coaches. There are no "evaluations" or "cuts". Tryouts in wrestling go like this: 2 kids, same weight class...they wrestle each other. The winner gets the starting spot. The loser can challenge again next week. May the best man win and there is no denying each match who that was. There is a clear winner and a clear loser though it could always change after hardwork and determination. But over the years, my boys have played every sport under the sun with the exception of basketball. Soccer, football, t-ball, baseball, wrestling, golf, lacrosse - been there done that. We follow the rules. Pay our money, shuffle them to all of the evaluations and try-outs, accept whatever the team placement, make all of the practices, never complain about what position they play or how much game time they get. We show up and cheer them on to give them the childhood memories. Because that is what it is all really about. Perhaps I am the only parent that doesn't believe my boys are going to be big professional sports stars after winning their huge college scholarships. I have talked with so many parents that have made decisions to leave sports that their children loved playing because of the circumstances that the kids were playing within. We've all seen the videos of the ranting and raving that goes on now - parents and coaches alike.
This year one of my son's made the A team for football. Our family has never been big on the whole A or B team thing. Because really why does it matter? Do you think that when our kids are grown men in the workplace they are going to strut around to their collegues saying, "Well when I played on the A Travel Select Team for such and such...?" Doubt it. Anyhow, we had encouraged him to play on the B team. We knew based on our past sports encounters, that the whole experience would be less intense if he just played on the B team. As life would have it - he made the A team and insisted on playing there. We tried to convince him otherwise. But he is 12 now and he wouldn't hear of it. So we drive him to practices 5 days a week starting in July, 3 days a week after school starts, buy all of the gear, pads, shoes, equipment, and fill our calendar with weekend dates every single weekend from August to November with games. My husband goes to watch the first scrimmage and for the first 30 minutes, my son stands on the sidelines. Welcome to the A team, son. Should we as parents not have given him the choice? Should we have said B team or nothing? Hard decisions for a parent. Sometimes kids have to learn things by allowing their decisions to sit and let the child live out the consequences.
Right now we are in the midst of another decision. Another scenario where I as a parent can see the big picture that my child cannot. The child sees the smiles and the words said directly to their face. What happens when I as a parent see what happens behind their back? What happens when I am faced with the caddiness of other parents and know that what my child sees isn't reality? I know the truth of the situation. I know that it is an environment of falsehood. My child wants to believe that there is support and friendship on the horizon.
How many times do we watch our children participate in things or forge relationships with people that we know are not positive? That if we are honest, have the capability of being toxic in our lives. I wish I had more courage to walk away when I know a negative experience is about to breach. But when the kids get older, they blame you as the parent for interference. They don't realize that you are the only person on this earth who truly has only their best interest at heart. I wish they knew that no one else will ever love them the way I do and no one else will ever want their happiness and success more than me. But as long as I am standing between them and what they think will make them happy - I will be the bad guy.
I can't change the world. I've learned enough in my time to know that most times I will not go in and fight for my kid against things I know to be wrong - because by myself, I am not going to change one person, let alone a full blown organization or business. I know as a parent I swallow it and all that it is going to be - the good, the bad and the ugly. I always end up praying that there will be more good than ugly. But the truth is that it is what it is. A parent has to decide if they are going to allow their child to find out on their own. But my question is: Is that fair when we are older and wiser?
Monday, August 23, 2010
First Day of School
You know I’ve done this before – so why does it keep getting harder?
Today Son #1 drove us to the first day of school. Son #2 was in the backseat- headed to his first day of high school. I don’t think I have ever had emotions all over the map like I did this morning. It really came out of nowhere.
They were in great spirits this morning. Up early. Packed up. Ready to go. The oldest was ready to drive – pulling the car out of the garage chomping at the bit. Son #2 talked about the new people he would meet today. (I’m pretty sure that he was referring mostly to the girls – but for my sake we won’t go there.) They even let me take pictures of them for the first day of school. They took picture after picture with goofy smiles and faces. They were truly happy.
Riding there we were making all kinds of jokes about Son #1’s driving. We laughed and laughed. We listened to the morning talk shows and laughed at their bizarre statements and the banter between us was carefree and easy. Yet I could feel the lump building in my throat. It just doesn’t seem possible that it was the start of another school year and that I now had two in high school. I thought about how fast the last two years went and where we would be in another two years. My mind drifted between being present in the anticipation and lost in my own thoughts.
Yesterday we were getting their things together for the big day and I was trying to have a bit of a “moment” with Son #2. I explained to him how important his freshman year would be. We talked about setting grade point averages, having goals and thinking more long term than the next day. He looked at me and said, “I’m really pretty excited about school tomorrow, Mom. I’m looking forward to it actually.” He talked about how unorganized he had been the prior year and he really wanted things to be different. It was inspiring.
Later that evening it was time to spend a bit of time with Son #1 while organizing binders and talking about the next day’s schedule. He also looked at me and said, “I’m ready to go back to school. I’m pretty excited about starting a new year and being an upperclassman.” Hmm.
It was all that a mother could hope for - To know that she was sending her kids into a positive environment that they were happy to be a part of. Yet each time they said those words, I felt so incredibly sad. Why didn’t they still want to be home? Did this mean that they were unhappy at home? Was it somewhere they were trying to escape and school was even better than being home?
I thought about school orientation a couple of days ago. It was a great day. The three of us headed out to meet new people and greet familiar faces. Son #1 would introduce Son #2 to his teachers. Compliments were swirling around us all with the faculty so upbeat and nurturing. The boys high-fived teammates and friends all over the campus and Son #1 was proud to introduce his little brother. I left the boys there for football practice and drove home feeling confident that they were in a great place and feeling very blessed. I didn’t feel sad at all. I was energized. I called my mom high on life talking a mile a minute sharing all of the details of our wonderful morning. I have happy, outgoing teenagers who are loving their lives right now. They are experiencing the epitome of adolescence and are right where they should be in this stage of the game. Being away from home and more on their own is the natural progression and this isn’t new to me. So what happened during the last 48 hours to make me feel so emotional?
It’s simple really. It just goes fast. The older the kids get the faster it goes. As a parent, you plan your entire life around those kids. You live for them. They give you purpose. They dictate your daily routine. In fact, their presence in your life forges a new path with each new stage of life that they encounter. I realize that I wouldn’t be where I am in my life without them. So I guess that prompted the question – “Where will I be in my life when I AM without them?”
I always wanted to be a Mom. Never wanted anything more. But when I had dreams of being a Mother, I dreamt of cradling babies, baking cookies with my toddlers, trips to the zoo with my 4 year old, dance recitals, little league games and big family holidays. I didn’t think far enough ahead. I didn’t dream of teenagers driving or shopping for colleges. I prepared for their coming. I never considered their going. It just seemed so far away.
…But it’s not. The time that I have with them is so short in the grand scheme. I’m only given so much time to keep my chicks in my nest before they start flapping their wings to see what is outside of it. I guess the first day of school is always a gentle reminder of that.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Who Are We Doing It For Really?
I was just on Facebook when a good friend posted that she had taken her hot, cranky family to Mt. Vernon for a day trip. It made me laugh. Out loud. It got me thinking. We all do this. We plan "special" trips. They can be day trips, weekend trips, extended trips, morning trips, or afternoon trips. As mothers we have these grandiose ideas. We'll go see the sights. The zoo. The museum. Historical monuments. We'll get up early, pack lunches - fresh sandwiches wrapped with waxed paper and special drinks on ice. We tell everyone to wear tennis shoes and to dress cool. Put the suntan lotion in our bags. We are all for the most part giddy with anticipation when we start out. Everyone is chatty, singing to the radio and getting along. But how quickly they will turn...
I remember the good ole days. When the kids were all in those elementary school years or younger. I would prepare for the big day at the United States Naval Academy every year during commencement week when the Blue Angels would come. For years, I would get up so early - I'd even pack the potty chair in the minivan and drive right onto that enormous field. The car would be filled with entertainment like fruit snacks, Nerf footballs, activity books, fruit snacks, juice boxes, beach blankets, puzzles and did I mention fruit snacks? I recall years that we even took Christmas cassette tapes and sang Jingle Bells in the middle of the field at the end of the month of May.
After 9/11 they didn't allow you to drive directly on the Academy anymore so we would park at the parking garage and I would push a double stroller filled with two children under 3 while the 6 and 4 year old walked diligently with each of us carrying backpacks filled with our entertainment for blocks and blocks, for our special day. They never complained. It was an adventure!
The show would last for less than an hour and usually didn't start until 2:00 pm. Yet we would arrive in downtown Annapolis by 9 am. We would spend the day playing. I worked hard back then. I entertained them with every fiber of my being. But they were troopers and I believe that even though the show was short in comparison to the day - they loved it. I loved it. I was creating memories. It was important to me that the kids had memories like this.
As the kids aged, they wanted to take the boat out to see the show. The walk was more than they could imagine. I always wondered how those 4 year old little legs could do what the 12 year old legs could no longer do without great complaint.
I remember when we reached the momentous occasion in our family that everyone was out of diapers and out of a stroller and we were ready to see our world! After all, we live so close to our nation's capital, what kind of Americans would we be if we didn't take advantage of our location and share our history and freedom with our children? Thus began the years of heading out to the Museum of Natural History, the Air and Space Museum, the monuments, the cherry blossoms. Ahh, yes, the splendor of it all. Okay, in hindsight, the kids definitely behaved, but were definitely more amused by the toy jets we bought in the gift shop, the pigeons out on the street, the bum sleeping on the grate and the park police's horses dropping a load right there on the street.
My husband and I decided that we would wait for the kids to be old enough to understand and appreciate all of the things we were trying to share with them. Since our effort was lost, frustrations were high and frankly, we were getting older and tired, with patience waning. But we couldn't blame them, they were young.
So last summer, after a year or two hiatus from local sightseeing, I planned a trip to Arlington National Cemetery. I wanted to show them where they had relatives buried, watch the changing of the guard, see the eternal flame over JFK's grave and possibly hit up Robert E. Lee's mansion. I was sure that after all of these years of attempt, our window of opportunity was wide open and ready. Our oldest was 15, the next 13, the next 11 and the next 9.
The 15 year old is a plethora of historical and military knowledge so I thought for sure we would have him captured and sometimes that 13 year old takes pity on me and tries to brown nose making every effort to make it a good experience for me. But it never fails that we pull up and look out across the sea of headstones to only hear the groans begin. We hadn't even been out of the air conditioning for 10 minutes. We started walking. The complaints began to roll. "It's so hot." "I'm sweating." "I need water." "How much further?"
I glanced over at my husband to see the veins in his temples beginning to pulse. This wasn't a good sign. To make it worse, I saw the sweat developing on my husband's back through his shirt. I knew that soon I wouldn't even have his support against the troops. I knew we needed to get some large water bottles in those hot hands or there would be mutiny.
We got everyone some cold water bottles to share because as you might know, in the capital of the home of the free you have to basically take out a mortgage to pay for water bottles for a family of six. We bought 3 to be shared in pairs. Big mistake! The war began. I've never heard so much talk of "water falling" and "backwash" in my life. The two teenagers were nearly at each other's throats for who was putting their lips around the rim. The younger two were pouring that liquid gold over their heads trying to cool down - prompting those teenagers to become incensed tattletales that the water was being wasted.
When we arrived at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We checked our watches to realize we would have about 20 minutes to wait. The sun was blazing on those marble steps with no where to hide. The water was gone. The whining started again. I snapped at them.
"Look at those soldiers! They are dressed in all of those layers...those pants, shoes, all in black...do you see them complaining? No! They are choosing to be here because it is an HONOR to have this job!"
Everyone was silent. We waited. The natural progression of things began. The two oldest teenagers began to bicker.
"I have to pee."
"Of course, you do. You drank all of the water."
"Did not."
"Did too - you were taking huge gulps - I saw you."
"You drank more than I did. I was taking big gulps because I knew I wouldn't get my fair share!"
I was watching the guards, trying to ignore the obvious sideshow taking place within my own little circus. Sometimes you have to pretend like they don't belong to you, ya know? I had a moment of feeling moved. Overwhelmed with emotion of what was actually happening here. When suddenly the shoving match started between my two oldest teenagers. I had visions of one of them pushing the other and losing their balance to tumble down those great marble steps and crashing into those precision focused guards. At that moment, I squeezed their arms and through gritted teeth and bulging veins, I recall saying those endearing words,
"Shut up and knock it off or you will be in more trouble than you can imagine. What is wrong with you? Grow up!"
Immediately they stopped. It was quiet again. The guards changed and all were attentive. At the moment that they finished, my nine year old asked to go get ice cream. Any thought of seeing Robert E. Lee's mansion vanished. My husband announced we would be calling it a day and heading home. The younger kids begged for McDonald's on the way home while the two older immediately began texting on their phones to alert the social network they were headed home and would be ready to hang out by the end of the hour.
I no longer feel pressed to share these things with my kids. I make decisions to see and do what is important to me. This weekend in New York City, I took a horse carriage ride with my family because that is what I wanted to do. I walked 5th Avenue and went into Juicy Couture. I had my picture taken with the latest Abercrombie & Fitch model. That's right, I did what made me happy. My teenagers were too inhibited to do very much any effort is lost on them right now. They were caught up in how things "look" as if the entire world is focused on them watching their every move. I've learned that nothing makes teenagers happy other than being with other teenagers. Why put myself through it? I'm over it. One day I am certain they will be parents that will recall that their parents took them to Arlington Cemetery. They will remember some warped version of what really happened, and they will feel the need to take their kids too. The saga will continue.
I remember the good ole days. When the kids were all in those elementary school years or younger. I would prepare for the big day at the United States Naval Academy every year during commencement week when the Blue Angels would come. For years, I would get up so early - I'd even pack the potty chair in the minivan and drive right onto that enormous field. The car would be filled with entertainment like fruit snacks, Nerf footballs, activity books, fruit snacks, juice boxes, beach blankets, puzzles and did I mention fruit snacks? I recall years that we even took Christmas cassette tapes and sang Jingle Bells in the middle of the field at the end of the month of May.
After 9/11 they didn't allow you to drive directly on the Academy anymore so we would park at the parking garage and I would push a double stroller filled with two children under 3 while the 6 and 4 year old walked diligently with each of us carrying backpacks filled with our entertainment for blocks and blocks, for our special day. They never complained. It was an adventure!
The show would last for less than an hour and usually didn't start until 2:00 pm. Yet we would arrive in downtown Annapolis by 9 am. We would spend the day playing. I worked hard back then. I entertained them with every fiber of my being. But they were troopers and I believe that even though the show was short in comparison to the day - they loved it. I loved it. I was creating memories. It was important to me that the kids had memories like this.
As the kids aged, they wanted to take the boat out to see the show. The walk was more than they could imagine. I always wondered how those 4 year old little legs could do what the 12 year old legs could no longer do without great complaint.
I remember when we reached the momentous occasion in our family that everyone was out of diapers and out of a stroller and we were ready to see our world! After all, we live so close to our nation's capital, what kind of Americans would we be if we didn't take advantage of our location and share our history and freedom with our children? Thus began the years of heading out to the Museum of Natural History, the Air and Space Museum, the monuments, the cherry blossoms. Ahh, yes, the splendor of it all. Okay, in hindsight, the kids definitely behaved, but were definitely more amused by the toy jets we bought in the gift shop, the pigeons out on the street, the bum sleeping on the grate and the park police's horses dropping a load right there on the street.
My husband and I decided that we would wait for the kids to be old enough to understand and appreciate all of the things we were trying to share with them. Since our effort was lost, frustrations were high and frankly, we were getting older and tired, with patience waning. But we couldn't blame them, they were young.
So last summer, after a year or two hiatus from local sightseeing, I planned a trip to Arlington National Cemetery. I wanted to show them where they had relatives buried, watch the changing of the guard, see the eternal flame over JFK's grave and possibly hit up Robert E. Lee's mansion. I was sure that after all of these years of attempt, our window of opportunity was wide open and ready. Our oldest was 15, the next 13, the next 11 and the next 9.
The 15 year old is a plethora of historical and military knowledge so I thought for sure we would have him captured and sometimes that 13 year old takes pity on me and tries to brown nose making every effort to make it a good experience for me. But it never fails that we pull up and look out across the sea of headstones to only hear the groans begin. We hadn't even been out of the air conditioning for 10 minutes. We started walking. The complaints began to roll. "It's so hot." "I'm sweating." "I need water." "How much further?"
I glanced over at my husband to see the veins in his temples beginning to pulse. This wasn't a good sign. To make it worse, I saw the sweat developing on my husband's back through his shirt. I knew that soon I wouldn't even have his support against the troops. I knew we needed to get some large water bottles in those hot hands or there would be mutiny.
We got everyone some cold water bottles to share because as you might know, in the capital of the home of the free you have to basically take out a mortgage to pay for water bottles for a family of six. We bought 3 to be shared in pairs. Big mistake! The war began. I've never heard so much talk of "water falling" and "backwash" in my life. The two teenagers were nearly at each other's throats for who was putting their lips around the rim. The younger two were pouring that liquid gold over their heads trying to cool down - prompting those teenagers to become incensed tattletales that the water was being wasted.
When we arrived at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We checked our watches to realize we would have about 20 minutes to wait. The sun was blazing on those marble steps with no where to hide. The water was gone. The whining started again. I snapped at them.
"Look at those soldiers! They are dressed in all of those layers...those pants, shoes, all in black...do you see them complaining? No! They are choosing to be here because it is an HONOR to have this job!"
Everyone was silent. We waited. The natural progression of things began. The two oldest teenagers began to bicker.
"I have to pee."
"Of course, you do. You drank all of the water."
"Did not."
"Did too - you were taking huge gulps - I saw you."
"You drank more than I did. I was taking big gulps because I knew I wouldn't get my fair share!"
I was watching the guards, trying to ignore the obvious sideshow taking place within my own little circus. Sometimes you have to pretend like they don't belong to you, ya know? I had a moment of feeling moved. Overwhelmed with emotion of what was actually happening here. When suddenly the shoving match started between my two oldest teenagers. I had visions of one of them pushing the other and losing their balance to tumble down those great marble steps and crashing into those precision focused guards. At that moment, I squeezed their arms and through gritted teeth and bulging veins, I recall saying those endearing words,
"Shut up and knock it off or you will be in more trouble than you can imagine. What is wrong with you? Grow up!"
Immediately they stopped. It was quiet again. The guards changed and all were attentive. At the moment that they finished, my nine year old asked to go get ice cream. Any thought of seeing Robert E. Lee's mansion vanished. My husband announced we would be calling it a day and heading home. The younger kids begged for McDonald's on the way home while the two older immediately began texting on their phones to alert the social network they were headed home and would be ready to hang out by the end of the hour.
I no longer feel pressed to share these things with my kids. I make decisions to see and do what is important to me. This weekend in New York City, I took a horse carriage ride with my family because that is what I wanted to do. I walked 5th Avenue and went into Juicy Couture. I had my picture taken with the latest Abercrombie & Fitch model. That's right, I did what made me happy. My teenagers were too inhibited to do very much any effort is lost on them right now. They were caught up in how things "look" as if the entire world is focused on them watching their every move. I've learned that nothing makes teenagers happy other than being with other teenagers. Why put myself through it? I'm over it. One day I am certain they will be parents that will recall that their parents took them to Arlington Cemetery. They will remember some warped version of what really happened, and they will feel the need to take their kids too. The saga will continue.
How Shall I Punish Thee? Let Me Count The Ways...
I think I hate disciplining my teenagers more than just about anything else these days. Being the bad guy is just the worst. Not to mention, it just becomes more and more difficult to do effectively.
I miss those days when I could say, "Go to your room!" and they were simply devastated by being ostracized from the family. But now that adolescence has swept in, am I supposed to say "Get out of your room for the rest of the night!"? We all know that when they are home the teenager's preference is to be in their room - doing basically nothing.
I have yet to find an effective punishment at this juncture of parenting and it is really beginning to frustrate me. I feel like Dr. Doom constantly trying to devise a plan that I think will hit them where it hurts.
Let's start with the obvious...the cell phone. Taking the cell phone as a punishment has basically become a joke of a punishment. In fact, while we were on a family vacation with my parents, while I was dealing with one of my kids, my father would blurt out, "Now give me your phone," and we would all start laughing. Now, yes, when I take their phones their social lives boil down to a slow simmer. But it never fails, that at some point over the next 24 hours I am having to drop them off somewhere that requires them to have a phone so that I can reach them. After all, having four children I am constantly running the gamut of things to do and need to be able to notify my children of the change of plans that will almost assuredly come with the schedule that day. So I can take that phone - but don't I seem like a bit of a weenie when the next day I am taking them to football and I say, "You will need your phone. I don't know what time I'll be back to get you and I think there is a line of thunderstorms on it's way." I've lost credibility with this punishment really. When I take it they aren't worried. It's coming back soon...my lifestyle requires it to be.
Moving on. The next great punishment...you are grounded. Yea. Let's examine this one. Grounding one of my children always punishes others in the family including myself. Here we are on a great day. I've planned a family day out. We are going to go spend time at our marina. Enjoy the pool, the bay, the boat, eat out, get some ice cream. Perfect. But there are various scenarios that can take place here.
There is always the teenager that has an attitude. He really doesn't feel like having a "family day" so he starts running his mouth with disrespect. Now I certainly can't ground him because this is exactly what he wants. If I say, "You are grounded and you aren't going with us," he is pretty much relieved, isn't he? So when I force him to go, my nice day has already become painful. Besides when we parents plan "family days", it is because we really want to be with our families...altogether...not with the missing son or daughter. So to ground one defeats my purpose.
I often think how great it will be when they have their license. That will be some leverage, right? Wrong! Who is that really going to impact? Let's see:
"Give me your license! You aren't driving for a week!"
"Okay."
Tomorrow morning I guess I am getting up to drive them to school because there is no bus for the private high school they attend. Hmm. I guess I will also be picking them up tomorrow afternoon after school. Hmm. I guess I will then be taking them back for football practice or wrestling or the weight room or the Robotics Team or...Yea, who was I punishing again? So how much difference is that license going to make?
You can say, "Give me your iPod." But they still have the computer or the stereo. You can say, "Give me your laptop." But there will always be a research paper or project due that is on the laptop and they need it to be working on it because the next milestone of the project is due tomorrow. You can say, "No Xbox," so then your backyard is filled with 10 teenage guys playing paintball the next day drinking all of your sodas and eating all of your food. So now who has to go to the grocery store again. (And let's be honest, the only mom's who enjoy going to the grocery store are the ones who have alot of really little children and that happens to be the only way to escape for a period of time with a good enough excuse for Daddy to watch for a bit and mother's of teenagers are so beyond that!)
We've been through the giving chores as a punishment as well. But I don't think I can stand to stand over my kids one more time and supervise one more toilet cleaning, or floor scrubbing, or garage clean out, or garden weeded. It is nothing short of a full blown war. They seem to be absolutely clueless what is entailed in doing a job well or correctly. Everything is sloppy or incorrect with very little effort. In fact, there is more effort coming from me bringing them back over and over and over and over to do the job and finish the job appropriately. Bill Cosby used to call it "Brain Damage" in the kids during his comedy routines. He was not joking. I swear the only thing that will result in my kids doing chores for punishments is that I will inevitably have a stroke one day while supervising it.
So lately, my husband and I have tested a new approach. When they have something special they want to do or are asking permission to do something that means alot to them, we preface our permission with, "Well before you go we will expect A, B and C to happen. If these requirements aren't met, then you will not be allowed. One of those expectations always has to be vague using something like, "If you don't backtalk between now and then..." or "If you do all of your chores without complaining between now and then..." But then the third thing is always something that we want them to accomplish that we know getting them to do is like pulling teeth.
For example, my daughter and I were going to be going away alone together for 2 weeks and the boys were ringing their hands with anticipation of the bachelor days that were coming to them when the three of them got to be home alone with Dad. They had started planning a dirtbiking trip out in western Maryland. My husband was more than willing to participate in this excursion and all were looking forward to it. There had been much thought about selling the dirtbikes due to the fact that our family was too busy with too many scheduled activities now. So it would be a "last hurrah" of sorts. However, there would be one condition.
I would not be returning from my trip until the week before school started. I had spent the last 2 weeks of July ordering their books, getting their uniforms, buying their supplies and preparing for school in the middle of my summer when that was truly the last thing I wanted to be thinking about. But I really wanted to be able to relax that last week, enjoying the pool and the freedom of the day. I even considered that we would perhaps get in a last trip to Kings Dominion as a family or something. After all, it's not just that school starts for the 2 older boys. It's that football practice for all three boys starts. The fact that I homeschool 2 of my children during the day starts. The additional time that I teach 8 ballet classes in the evenings and the fact my daughter dances every night of the week again. Truly we would be diving head first into our own little rat race again and I really wanted to preserve that last week for relaxation.
So, at the beginning of July, my husband and I told the boys that if they wanted to go on a dirtbiking trip during the bachelor days, they would need to have all of their summer assignments completed by July 31st. That way we would know that there would not be a cram session the last week of vacation and we could come and go freely for the last time. I'm sure most parents out there have experienced the dreaded summer assignment nag. After all, it is a time that they can easily put more effort into something and have an "A" right off of the bat, setting them on a positive path for success for the school year. I printed out each of their summer assignment directions from the school website. I placed them on their placemats on the kitchen table. I poured over the internet to find each of the ISBN#s and then the cheapest price available for the required books. I enabled each of them to succeed at their summer assignments as best I could.
The days of July came and went. Sunrises and sunsets. They hung with friends, skateboarded, went to the pool, played on the trampoline, went wakeboarding, tubing and waverunning. They watched movies, went to the mall, played guitar, shot pool, played airsoft and paintball. They shot on the lacrosse goal, played badminton, shot baskets, played Manhunt and rode bikes. They got snowballs and Ritas, stayed up all night and slept in late. We even had our family vacation at the Outer Banks of North Carolina where I told them to take their novels that needed reading with them. I never asked to see their work. I would only say, "I haven't seen you do much school work." I would get the typical reply. "Just chill, Mom. I've got this under control. It'll be fine and It'll be done before you go."
The due date arrived. My husband and I asked each son if they completed their summer assignments. Neither one had. My husband informed them they would not be going dirtbiking. They didn't seem to be affected by this. Later we overheard a conversation between them. In their minds, they would get it done and still go. But I explained, I didn't want it done in a rush and with last minute effort, thus the reason for giving them a month to do it with such a big incentive in the end. Yet, they believed they would cram it all in after I left, and still get to go. Once again, doing things on their terms, not the terms set before them thinking they have negotiating room.
Now, you might think that this worked because they are disappointed and they definitely will not go dirtbiking. But here again is the parental dilemma. The youngest of the 3 boys did not have a summer assignment because he is 12 and homeschooled. He worried the entire time that his older brothers would not complete the work. He spoke to his father and myself numerous times about it. I even heard him trying to coerce his brothers into feeling the same urgency that he felt about it. But it just didn't happen.
So my husband tells Son #3 that the two of them will go together without the other two. But Son #3 is disappointed. He doesn't want to go alone with Dad. He wanted to go as a group with his older brothers. That was part of the fun for him. In fact, a huge part of the fun. He has also been robbed of something special now without any doing of his own. So even after all of that thought, planning and effort to lay down the law and enforce something -- it didn't work because there was a perfectly innocent casualty and the ones meant to be picked off stand with their chests out seeming indestructible.
I'm telling you, disciplining teenagers is hard. Someone else in the family always feels the repercussions from it - but it never seems to impact the intended target. The teenagers always seem to miss the lesson that we are desperately trying to teach, perfectly content to lay on their beds and do nothing for long periods of time, unphased by our frustration, wallowing in their own ambivalence. The best I can hope for is to one day be a grandparent and hear them whine about their teenagers and to know that the perfect most effective punishment for their own younger teenage attitudes has arrived. Better late than never! (And by the way...to my Mom and Dad - I feel your pain now. I get it. I'm sorry for those teenage years! Could you please make it stop now? :)
I miss those days when I could say, "Go to your room!" and they were simply devastated by being ostracized from the family. But now that adolescence has swept in, am I supposed to say "Get out of your room for the rest of the night!"? We all know that when they are home the teenager's preference is to be in their room - doing basically nothing.
I have yet to find an effective punishment at this juncture of parenting and it is really beginning to frustrate me. I feel like Dr. Doom constantly trying to devise a plan that I think will hit them where it hurts.
Let's start with the obvious...the cell phone. Taking the cell phone as a punishment has basically become a joke of a punishment. In fact, while we were on a family vacation with my parents, while I was dealing with one of my kids, my father would blurt out, "Now give me your phone," and we would all start laughing. Now, yes, when I take their phones their social lives boil down to a slow simmer. But it never fails, that at some point over the next 24 hours I am having to drop them off somewhere that requires them to have a phone so that I can reach them. After all, having four children I am constantly running the gamut of things to do and need to be able to notify my children of the change of plans that will almost assuredly come with the schedule that day. So I can take that phone - but don't I seem like a bit of a weenie when the next day I am taking them to football and I say, "You will need your phone. I don't know what time I'll be back to get you and I think there is a line of thunderstorms on it's way." I've lost credibility with this punishment really. When I take it they aren't worried. It's coming back soon...my lifestyle requires it to be.
Moving on. The next great punishment...you are grounded. Yea. Let's examine this one. Grounding one of my children always punishes others in the family including myself. Here we are on a great day. I've planned a family day out. We are going to go spend time at our marina. Enjoy the pool, the bay, the boat, eat out, get some ice cream. Perfect. But there are various scenarios that can take place here.
There is always the teenager that has an attitude. He really doesn't feel like having a "family day" so he starts running his mouth with disrespect. Now I certainly can't ground him because this is exactly what he wants. If I say, "You are grounded and you aren't going with us," he is pretty much relieved, isn't he? So when I force him to go, my nice day has already become painful. Besides when we parents plan "family days", it is because we really want to be with our families...altogether...not with the missing son or daughter. So to ground one defeats my purpose.
I often think how great it will be when they have their license. That will be some leverage, right? Wrong! Who is that really going to impact? Let's see:
"Give me your license! You aren't driving for a week!"
"Okay."
Tomorrow morning I guess I am getting up to drive them to school because there is no bus for the private high school they attend. Hmm. I guess I will also be picking them up tomorrow afternoon after school. Hmm. I guess I will then be taking them back for football practice or wrestling or the weight room or the Robotics Team or...Yea, who was I punishing again? So how much difference is that license going to make?
You can say, "Give me your iPod." But they still have the computer or the stereo. You can say, "Give me your laptop." But there will always be a research paper or project due that is on the laptop and they need it to be working on it because the next milestone of the project is due tomorrow. You can say, "No Xbox," so then your backyard is filled with 10 teenage guys playing paintball the next day drinking all of your sodas and eating all of your food. So now who has to go to the grocery store again. (And let's be honest, the only mom's who enjoy going to the grocery store are the ones who have alot of really little children and that happens to be the only way to escape for a period of time with a good enough excuse for Daddy to watch for a bit and mother's of teenagers are so beyond that!)
We've been through the giving chores as a punishment as well. But I don't think I can stand to stand over my kids one more time and supervise one more toilet cleaning, or floor scrubbing, or garage clean out, or garden weeded. It is nothing short of a full blown war. They seem to be absolutely clueless what is entailed in doing a job well or correctly. Everything is sloppy or incorrect with very little effort. In fact, there is more effort coming from me bringing them back over and over and over and over to do the job and finish the job appropriately. Bill Cosby used to call it "Brain Damage" in the kids during his comedy routines. He was not joking. I swear the only thing that will result in my kids doing chores for punishments is that I will inevitably have a stroke one day while supervising it.
So lately, my husband and I have tested a new approach. When they have something special they want to do or are asking permission to do something that means alot to them, we preface our permission with, "Well before you go we will expect A, B and C to happen. If these requirements aren't met, then you will not be allowed. One of those expectations always has to be vague using something like, "If you don't backtalk between now and then..." or "If you do all of your chores without complaining between now and then..." But then the third thing is always something that we want them to accomplish that we know getting them to do is like pulling teeth.
For example, my daughter and I were going to be going away alone together for 2 weeks and the boys were ringing their hands with anticipation of the bachelor days that were coming to them when the three of them got to be home alone with Dad. They had started planning a dirtbiking trip out in western Maryland. My husband was more than willing to participate in this excursion and all were looking forward to it. There had been much thought about selling the dirtbikes due to the fact that our family was too busy with too many scheduled activities now. So it would be a "last hurrah" of sorts. However, there would be one condition.
I would not be returning from my trip until the week before school started. I had spent the last 2 weeks of July ordering their books, getting their uniforms, buying their supplies and preparing for school in the middle of my summer when that was truly the last thing I wanted to be thinking about. But I really wanted to be able to relax that last week, enjoying the pool and the freedom of the day. I even considered that we would perhaps get in a last trip to Kings Dominion as a family or something. After all, it's not just that school starts for the 2 older boys. It's that football practice for all three boys starts. The fact that I homeschool 2 of my children during the day starts. The additional time that I teach 8 ballet classes in the evenings and the fact my daughter dances every night of the week again. Truly we would be diving head first into our own little rat race again and I really wanted to preserve that last week for relaxation.
So, at the beginning of July, my husband and I told the boys that if they wanted to go on a dirtbiking trip during the bachelor days, they would need to have all of their summer assignments completed by July 31st. That way we would know that there would not be a cram session the last week of vacation and we could come and go freely for the last time. I'm sure most parents out there have experienced the dreaded summer assignment nag. After all, it is a time that they can easily put more effort into something and have an "A" right off of the bat, setting them on a positive path for success for the school year. I printed out each of their summer assignment directions from the school website. I placed them on their placemats on the kitchen table. I poured over the internet to find each of the ISBN#s and then the cheapest price available for the required books. I enabled each of them to succeed at their summer assignments as best I could.
The days of July came and went. Sunrises and sunsets. They hung with friends, skateboarded, went to the pool, played on the trampoline, went wakeboarding, tubing and waverunning. They watched movies, went to the mall, played guitar, shot pool, played airsoft and paintball. They shot on the lacrosse goal, played badminton, shot baskets, played Manhunt and rode bikes. They got snowballs and Ritas, stayed up all night and slept in late. We even had our family vacation at the Outer Banks of North Carolina where I told them to take their novels that needed reading with them. I never asked to see their work. I would only say, "I haven't seen you do much school work." I would get the typical reply. "Just chill, Mom. I've got this under control. It'll be fine and It'll be done before you go."
The due date arrived. My husband and I asked each son if they completed their summer assignments. Neither one had. My husband informed them they would not be going dirtbiking. They didn't seem to be affected by this. Later we overheard a conversation between them. In their minds, they would get it done and still go. But I explained, I didn't want it done in a rush and with last minute effort, thus the reason for giving them a month to do it with such a big incentive in the end. Yet, they believed they would cram it all in after I left, and still get to go. Once again, doing things on their terms, not the terms set before them thinking they have negotiating room.
Now, you might think that this worked because they are disappointed and they definitely will not go dirtbiking. But here again is the parental dilemma. The youngest of the 3 boys did not have a summer assignment because he is 12 and homeschooled. He worried the entire time that his older brothers would not complete the work. He spoke to his father and myself numerous times about it. I even heard him trying to coerce his brothers into feeling the same urgency that he felt about it. But it just didn't happen.
So my husband tells Son #3 that the two of them will go together without the other two. But Son #3 is disappointed. He doesn't want to go alone with Dad. He wanted to go as a group with his older brothers. That was part of the fun for him. In fact, a huge part of the fun. He has also been robbed of something special now without any doing of his own. So even after all of that thought, planning and effort to lay down the law and enforce something -- it didn't work because there was a perfectly innocent casualty and the ones meant to be picked off stand with their chests out seeming indestructible.
I'm telling you, disciplining teenagers is hard. Someone else in the family always feels the repercussions from it - but it never seems to impact the intended target. The teenagers always seem to miss the lesson that we are desperately trying to teach, perfectly content to lay on their beds and do nothing for long periods of time, unphased by our frustration, wallowing in their own ambivalence. The best I can hope for is to one day be a grandparent and hear them whine about their teenagers and to know that the perfect most effective punishment for their own younger teenage attitudes has arrived. Better late than never! (And by the way...to my Mom and Dad - I feel your pain now. I get it. I'm sorry for those teenage years! Could you please make it stop now? :)
Friday, August 6, 2010
So My Girlfriend Is Having a BABY...
I have a good friend of mine that is getting ready to have her first baby. While away on a trip, I decided to do some shopping for the baby. I found a local "baby store" and decided to go in and check it out.
It's been a good many years since I have gone into one of those specialty baby stores. Probably nearly 10 years. Most of my friends have finished having new babies, and those few that do - well, I place an order for something online.
My daughter had really been wanting to go shopping at this store with me. You have to remember that she is my youngest and to this moment is still asking me to have another baby because she wants a baby sister after having three older brothers. I've made it clear that that ship has sailed long ago. I am nearly 41 now and my husband is turning 50 in a matter of weeks. Tho there was a time a few years ago that I would not have been opposed to that thought again. Funny what raising teenagers will do to you though! It's kind of like puppies. They sure are cute but eventually they grow up and start tearing up your house.
Anyhow, I decided to go check the store out prior to shopping with my daughter. I'm not sure why - probably just killing time while she is taking class and I am waiting. I look in the windows and it looks like your typical baby galore store. I walk in and start to browse.
It is filled with all of those cute little clothes and trinkets that you would expect. I find a display of tiny little baby clip bows. I start to laugh remembering how I would take my daughter's one long wisp of hair when she was 8 months old and twist it and stick the bow in on top of her head like she was Pebbles Flintstone. Just this morning she was flinching angrily at me, while I put that long thick hair into a bun for her dance class. I pick up some pink bows for my friend.
I round the corner and find the boys section. I know that my friend is having a girl so it isn't really necessary for me to pay any attention to this section whatsoever, yet I can't seem to help myself. Those little denim overalls are hanging on that rack. I walk up and take a pair down. I can close my eyes and remember each of my boys in these. Snapping those snaps all around their inseam and watching them toddle off with that huge padded diaper on their bottom. I hang them up and turn away.
Next I find a section of hard books. Goodnight Moon. I remember when my girlfriend gave that to me at my first baby shower when I was 24 years old. I remember crying when I opened it. I was pregnant and hormonal. Funny - I could cry right now again. I search the shelf of books. There is my daughter's favorite...The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Then I see it - A Time For Bed. I remember Son #1 asking me to read it over and over at bedtime, at naptime, out on the swing. I pick it up. I flip through the pages. Haven't seen these pictures in a long time. Maybe my friend should have this. But it was our special story...I put it back.
I saunter into the toy section passing the Desitin, Baby Magic and Oragel teething ointment. I see the crib toys, stuffed animals, rattles, and chew toys. None of them are exactly like anything my children had. There are versions of those things but it has been a decade since my last baby so things have obviously changed. I don't feel drawn to any particular toy. I look at the bows in my hand. They are making me sad. I return to put them back.
I stop and look at the onesies and the zip up fuzzy newborn nightgowns. I remember what lifesavers they were when changing so many diapers. I pick up a package. I walk around a few aisles with them in my hands. I return to put them back.
I round the corner to find "Seasonal" items. You know, Baby's First This, Baby's First That. I look down to see a red headband with devil horns on it. I remember when Son #2 was 8 months old. For his first Halloween, I put him in a red sweatsuit and put those devil horns on him. Funny. He is still my most devilish child.
I see the plastic "entertainment" toys for infants. Fish in a line. Hmmm. They still make those. Those multi-colored fish that you chain together and sweep across the baby's bouncy chair for them to reach for and look at while you are trying to accomplish a million different things in a ten minute span. We had those...for years.
Past the diapers I see a display of blue Diaper Sacks. I think to myself, "I loved those things. They really worked." I remember having them stashed everywhere. In the nursery, my purse, the car, the diaper bag. Hard to believe that I travelled for nearly 8 years with those on my person...
I stop and look at the socks and shoes. I remember needing to buy only the socks with the grip on the bottom. Son #3 would rub his feet together like a little cricket and get those suckers right off if I didn't have the ones with the grip on the bottom. I stand there and I can picture him in his carseat with his big old pacifier moving up and down - those little feet working, working, working to shed those socks. That boy still hates socks. All of his shoes smell now because he wears them without socks. I think, "Do they make socks with grip on the bottom for men's size 7 foot?"
I stop and take in the full circumference of the store. I realize that I feel completely overwhelmed in here. I'll wait and come back with my daughter this evening...with her perhaps I'll have a whole different perspective. Right now, I just really miss my babies.
I get back to the hotel. My husband texts me that Son #1 can't find his Driver's License and do I know where it might be?
Wow! It's amazing how fast you can snap out of it!
It's been a good many years since I have gone into one of those specialty baby stores. Probably nearly 10 years. Most of my friends have finished having new babies, and those few that do - well, I place an order for something online.
My daughter had really been wanting to go shopping at this store with me. You have to remember that she is my youngest and to this moment is still asking me to have another baby because she wants a baby sister after having three older brothers. I've made it clear that that ship has sailed long ago. I am nearly 41 now and my husband is turning 50 in a matter of weeks. Tho there was a time a few years ago that I would not have been opposed to that thought again. Funny what raising teenagers will do to you though! It's kind of like puppies. They sure are cute but eventually they grow up and start tearing up your house.
Anyhow, I decided to go check the store out prior to shopping with my daughter. I'm not sure why - probably just killing time while she is taking class and I am waiting. I look in the windows and it looks like your typical baby galore store. I walk in and start to browse.
It is filled with all of those cute little clothes and trinkets that you would expect. I find a display of tiny little baby clip bows. I start to laugh remembering how I would take my daughter's one long wisp of hair when she was 8 months old and twist it and stick the bow in on top of her head like she was Pebbles Flintstone. Just this morning she was flinching angrily at me, while I put that long thick hair into a bun for her dance class. I pick up some pink bows for my friend.
I round the corner and find the boys section. I know that my friend is having a girl so it isn't really necessary for me to pay any attention to this section whatsoever, yet I can't seem to help myself. Those little denim overalls are hanging on that rack. I walk up and take a pair down. I can close my eyes and remember each of my boys in these. Snapping those snaps all around their inseam and watching them toddle off with that huge padded diaper on their bottom. I hang them up and turn away.
Next I find a section of hard books. Goodnight Moon. I remember when my girlfriend gave that to me at my first baby shower when I was 24 years old. I remember crying when I opened it. I was pregnant and hormonal. Funny - I could cry right now again. I search the shelf of books. There is my daughter's favorite...The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Then I see it - A Time For Bed. I remember Son #1 asking me to read it over and over at bedtime, at naptime, out on the swing. I pick it up. I flip through the pages. Haven't seen these pictures in a long time. Maybe my friend should have this. But it was our special story...I put it back.
I saunter into the toy section passing the Desitin, Baby Magic and Oragel teething ointment. I see the crib toys, stuffed animals, rattles, and chew toys. None of them are exactly like anything my children had. There are versions of those things but it has been a decade since my last baby so things have obviously changed. I don't feel drawn to any particular toy. I look at the bows in my hand. They are making me sad. I return to put them back.
I stop and look at the onesies and the zip up fuzzy newborn nightgowns. I remember what lifesavers they were when changing so many diapers. I pick up a package. I walk around a few aisles with them in my hands. I return to put them back.
I round the corner to find "Seasonal" items. You know, Baby's First This, Baby's First That. I look down to see a red headband with devil horns on it. I remember when Son #2 was 8 months old. For his first Halloween, I put him in a red sweatsuit and put those devil horns on him. Funny. He is still my most devilish child.
I see the plastic "entertainment" toys for infants. Fish in a line. Hmmm. They still make those. Those multi-colored fish that you chain together and sweep across the baby's bouncy chair for them to reach for and look at while you are trying to accomplish a million different things in a ten minute span. We had those...for years.
Past the diapers I see a display of blue Diaper Sacks. I think to myself, "I loved those things. They really worked." I remember having them stashed everywhere. In the nursery, my purse, the car, the diaper bag. Hard to believe that I travelled for nearly 8 years with those on my person...
I stop and look at the socks and shoes. I remember needing to buy only the socks with the grip on the bottom. Son #3 would rub his feet together like a little cricket and get those suckers right off if I didn't have the ones with the grip on the bottom. I stand there and I can picture him in his carseat with his big old pacifier moving up and down - those little feet working, working, working to shed those socks. That boy still hates socks. All of his shoes smell now because he wears them without socks. I think, "Do they make socks with grip on the bottom for men's size 7 foot?"
I stop and take in the full circumference of the store. I realize that I feel completely overwhelmed in here. I'll wait and come back with my daughter this evening...with her perhaps I'll have a whole different perspective. Right now, I just really miss my babies.
I get back to the hotel. My husband texts me that Son #1 can't find his Driver's License and do I know where it might be?
Wow! It's amazing how fast you can snap out of it!
Can't We All Just Get Along?
I had all four of my children in a span just shy of six years. When my youngest was born, my oldest was five turning six in a little over two months. I did this intentionally.
Growing up it was just my brother and I and we were six and a half years apart. We had nothing in common and we were always in completely different stages of our lives. We didn't spend much time together.
I had friends that had large families with siblings close in age. I envied this. I liked the busyness of their homes and the relationships that the siblings had with each other. I wanted that kind of family.
When it was time to start my family, I wanted a boy first. I think it is because growing up I had always wished I had an older brother - someone to look out for me, I suppose, though I am not certain of the reason. When I found out it was a boy - I was excited.
When I got pregnant the next time, Son #1 was about 9 months old. Yes, it was intentional - and I hoped for another boy. I thought about how great it would be for them to be so close in age. They would be "buddies". They could entertain each other when they were younger and be friends when they were older.
From the beginning, Son #1 was very protective of his younger brother. He loved him dearly. He was eager to share with him and teach him what he had already learned. But Son #2 was a very determined child. He didn't want any help from his big brother. In fact, he wanted to do anything his big brother did but he wanted to do it better. The oldest brother was never able to basque in the glory of being the first or oldest because little brother was always right behind him challenging him. Son #2 began running, not walking, across our family room at 8 months old. His head was constantly covered in goose eggs from running into things or falling head first. But one thing was for certain, he wasn't going to let his big brother get around quicker than himself.
When Son #1 was 4 years old, we took him outside on our court to take his training wheels off and teach him to ride a two wheeler. After working on it for about 20 minutes, he finally had the hang of it and was proudly riding in circles while I videotaped him. He shouted out to his little brother, "Look at me! I'm really doing it!"
Big Mistake. At that moment, Son #2 broke out into a complete two and a half year old tantrum. He wanted to do it. He wanted the training wheels off of his own bike. Big brother tried to tell him that he was too young and one day he would do it like him. Son #2 would hear nothing of that.
We removed his training wheels believing that he would learn his lesson - albeit the hard way. The wheels were off. He jumped on. My husband held the back. He peddled like a demon. My husband let go and my two year old began to lap my four year old around the court.
I remember standing there in disbelief. I couldn't believe he was actually doing it. It was hard to be excited. My heart broke for my oldest son. I'll never forget the disappointment I saw in his eyes. The funny thing was he kept saying, "Good job!" over and over to his little brother. He was still encouraging him even though he was clearly hurt that he had lost his spotlight...again.
Throughout the years we have faced issue after issue between the two boys. Constant one upsmanship encircled the two of them. When they were homeschooled for four years, for the most part they got along. They were friends though there was always a competition of sorts. They shared a bedroom for ten years. I remember saying good night to them and listening to them talk to each other until they fell asleep. I loved that. One night Son #1 was away overnight and Son #2 was alone in the room. When I tucked him in he said, "I don't know how I will fall asleep all by myself."
Shortly after I sent them to public school the tensions between them escalated. With the onset of making friends and finding their separate cliques and clubs they became divided. One mocked the other and more battles unfolded. I was disappointed that there wasn't a more united brotherly stance between them. Somehow being back in school drove a wedge between them instead. With the onset of puberty in each of them - they butted heads more than ever and living together in the same room was wreaking havoc on the family. Son #1 moved into the guest room in the basement.
During all of this time, my husband and I would lecture, try to guide them into gentler approaches with each other. Heck, I even resorted to renting "My Three Sons" and "Leave It To Beaver", hoping to demonstrate a kinder relationship. I've watched open physical fights between the two. I've heard shouting matches. I've heard name calling and put down contests. I've seen blatant competitions and physical challenges of all sorts. From my perspective, it looks and sounds as if they just don't like each other. I think they love each other because they are brothers. They are family. But they would never choose the other for a friend.
Over the course of the summer, I've seen them spend more time together. Now, they still have their run-ins but it is nice to see them doing things where they choose to spend time together. It has been hard to watch them draw lines of territory between them. Showing possession over friends and excluding the other purposely--just for the sake of exclusion. I understand that they are pretty much night and day personalities. But so are my husband and I. Shouldn't opposites attract? The younger brother has just always wanted to be the big man on campus and he has been unwilling to let his older brother own his birthright. My oldest son has spent his entire life being constantly challenged by his younger brother.
Recently, I had a glimmer of hope. Son #1 turned sixteen. On his birthday my husband was away on a business trip. My son was disappointed that we had no plans to celebrate that day but would never have let on that he felt that way. His little sister would have her two hour dance lesson and I would take him to buy his school uniforms for the year. When I asked him what he had planned for the afternoon, he said he planned to read. Little did he know that Son #2 had orchestrated a group of friends to go to the movies that afternoon. They all showed up at the house and surprised him. I believe that he was happy to have plans but more importantly, I believe the gesture from his brother was the best gift he could have received.
It is hard to believe how fast the time has gone. It always felt like we had more time to work this thing out...it's been 15 years now. The oldest will be a Junior in high school this year and Son #2 will be a Freshman. They will be driving to school together and playing on the same sports teams. Perhaps they will find a way to connect and find some common ground to see each other respectfully. I am hopeful that they will even end up with fond memories of their time together in high school...maybe even a double date is in their future.
Because of the history that the two have shared, I don't know what will become of them as adults. I do know that as a mother it has been painful. It was never what I had planned. But from the get go it was who they were and what their relationship was. I would love for them to be united and never let anyone or anything come between them. That's what I always tried to instill in them about what family means. Family should take care of each other. They are both my children. I love them equally and I love them for what they are and I love them for what I know they strive to be. I also know that I will only have my family altogether under one roof for about 2 more years before the oldest leaves to embark on his own journey. Every night I pray that the two of them will find a way to appreciate each other and mend broken fences before then. They are so fortunate to have each other now. After the oldest leaves, it will never again be the same.
Growing up it was just my brother and I and we were six and a half years apart. We had nothing in common and we were always in completely different stages of our lives. We didn't spend much time together.
I had friends that had large families with siblings close in age. I envied this. I liked the busyness of their homes and the relationships that the siblings had with each other. I wanted that kind of family.
When it was time to start my family, I wanted a boy first. I think it is because growing up I had always wished I had an older brother - someone to look out for me, I suppose, though I am not certain of the reason. When I found out it was a boy - I was excited.
When I got pregnant the next time, Son #1 was about 9 months old. Yes, it was intentional - and I hoped for another boy. I thought about how great it would be for them to be so close in age. They would be "buddies". They could entertain each other when they were younger and be friends when they were older.
From the beginning, Son #1 was very protective of his younger brother. He loved him dearly. He was eager to share with him and teach him what he had already learned. But Son #2 was a very determined child. He didn't want any help from his big brother. In fact, he wanted to do anything his big brother did but he wanted to do it better. The oldest brother was never able to basque in the glory of being the first or oldest because little brother was always right behind him challenging him. Son #2 began running, not walking, across our family room at 8 months old. His head was constantly covered in goose eggs from running into things or falling head first. But one thing was for certain, he wasn't going to let his big brother get around quicker than himself.
When Son #1 was 4 years old, we took him outside on our court to take his training wheels off and teach him to ride a two wheeler. After working on it for about 20 minutes, he finally had the hang of it and was proudly riding in circles while I videotaped him. He shouted out to his little brother, "Look at me! I'm really doing it!"
Big Mistake. At that moment, Son #2 broke out into a complete two and a half year old tantrum. He wanted to do it. He wanted the training wheels off of his own bike. Big brother tried to tell him that he was too young and one day he would do it like him. Son #2 would hear nothing of that.
We removed his training wheels believing that he would learn his lesson - albeit the hard way. The wheels were off. He jumped on. My husband held the back. He peddled like a demon. My husband let go and my two year old began to lap my four year old around the court.
I remember standing there in disbelief. I couldn't believe he was actually doing it. It was hard to be excited. My heart broke for my oldest son. I'll never forget the disappointment I saw in his eyes. The funny thing was he kept saying, "Good job!" over and over to his little brother. He was still encouraging him even though he was clearly hurt that he had lost his spotlight...again.
Throughout the years we have faced issue after issue between the two boys. Constant one upsmanship encircled the two of them. When they were homeschooled for four years, for the most part they got along. They were friends though there was always a competition of sorts. They shared a bedroom for ten years. I remember saying good night to them and listening to them talk to each other until they fell asleep. I loved that. One night Son #1 was away overnight and Son #2 was alone in the room. When I tucked him in he said, "I don't know how I will fall asleep all by myself."
Shortly after I sent them to public school the tensions between them escalated. With the onset of making friends and finding their separate cliques and clubs they became divided. One mocked the other and more battles unfolded. I was disappointed that there wasn't a more united brotherly stance between them. Somehow being back in school drove a wedge between them instead. With the onset of puberty in each of them - they butted heads more than ever and living together in the same room was wreaking havoc on the family. Son #1 moved into the guest room in the basement.
During all of this time, my husband and I would lecture, try to guide them into gentler approaches with each other. Heck, I even resorted to renting "My Three Sons" and "Leave It To Beaver", hoping to demonstrate a kinder relationship. I've watched open physical fights between the two. I've heard shouting matches. I've heard name calling and put down contests. I've seen blatant competitions and physical challenges of all sorts. From my perspective, it looks and sounds as if they just don't like each other. I think they love each other because they are brothers. They are family. But they would never choose the other for a friend.
Over the course of the summer, I've seen them spend more time together. Now, they still have their run-ins but it is nice to see them doing things where they choose to spend time together. It has been hard to watch them draw lines of territory between them. Showing possession over friends and excluding the other purposely--just for the sake of exclusion. I understand that they are pretty much night and day personalities. But so are my husband and I. Shouldn't opposites attract? The younger brother has just always wanted to be the big man on campus and he has been unwilling to let his older brother own his birthright. My oldest son has spent his entire life being constantly challenged by his younger brother.
Recently, I had a glimmer of hope. Son #1 turned sixteen. On his birthday my husband was away on a business trip. My son was disappointed that we had no plans to celebrate that day but would never have let on that he felt that way. His little sister would have her two hour dance lesson and I would take him to buy his school uniforms for the year. When I asked him what he had planned for the afternoon, he said he planned to read. Little did he know that Son #2 had orchestrated a group of friends to go to the movies that afternoon. They all showed up at the house and surprised him. I believe that he was happy to have plans but more importantly, I believe the gesture from his brother was the best gift he could have received.
It is hard to believe how fast the time has gone. It always felt like we had more time to work this thing out...it's been 15 years now. The oldest will be a Junior in high school this year and Son #2 will be a Freshman. They will be driving to school together and playing on the same sports teams. Perhaps they will find a way to connect and find some common ground to see each other respectfully. I am hopeful that they will even end up with fond memories of their time together in high school...maybe even a double date is in their future.
Because of the history that the two have shared, I don't know what will become of them as adults. I do know that as a mother it has been painful. It was never what I had planned. But from the get go it was who they were and what their relationship was. I would love for them to be united and never let anyone or anything come between them. That's what I always tried to instill in them about what family means. Family should take care of each other. They are both my children. I love them equally and I love them for what they are and I love them for what I know they strive to be. I also know that I will only have my family altogether under one roof for about 2 more years before the oldest leaves to embark on his own journey. Every night I pray that the two of them will find a way to appreciate each other and mend broken fences before then. They are so fortunate to have each other now. After the oldest leaves, it will never again be the same.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
"It's My Money!"
What do you do when your kids have their own money? I'm not talking about when Grandma and Grandpa give them money for their birthday. I mean when they have jobs and they earn a significant amount. Enough to put in the bank for a while.
Several years ago my eldest son adopted a paper route for a local paper in our neighborhood. He was homeschooling and we were excited for the opportunity of responsibility for him. Everyday he would bag his papers and deliver them on time. Double bag if it's raining. There were even special accommodations he would make for some. For the most part, his customers were unfriendly actually - in fact some were down right grouchy. Very few actually tipped them. Maybe a handful at Christmastime. It was disheartening. But there were a few that made it all worthwhile for him. There was a gentlemen who was working on restoring an old WWII jeep in his garage. My son being a history and military buff, made friends. One day before he moved from the neighborhood, he finished that jeep and took my son for a ride in it. I bet other than the money that my son was able to bank, that is probably his greatest memory of the paper route.
After he had saved about $2,000.oo, we encouraged him to let his younger siblings have a shot at the route. In hindsight, I don't know if that was a good idea or not. But as parents, we live and learn. Son #2 took over the route and it truly didn't last very long. I honestly am not even sure how long he had it. I just know it was more hassle than anything else. It wasn't of interest to him and more work than he was willing to put out. So after a time, it rolled down to my third son.
Son #3 was also a brilliant paper boy. He also worked hard, was responsible and very diligent. That paper route landed him some other odd jobs from the customers who appreciated his efforts. He picked up some "house watching" jobs while people would vacation and added to his bank account. Those paychecks made him very happy and he earned each one.
After several years of our family being held hostage by a paper route, we determined it was time to let it go. It is an enormous responsibility for the entire family. Everyday that paper comes and has to go out - rain, sleet, snow, or sun! It meant having to find substitutions for you when you want to vacation. (Those were really hard to come by. Kids these days just don't want to be bothered.) The kids would come home early from friend's houses, the pool, sporting events or whatever they may be doing that day to get that afternoon paper out by 5pm on weekdays and they would get up early Saturday and Sunday to have those papers out before 7:00am all year long. The route hindered our ability to go away at a moment's notice and if someone made plans they needed to ask one of their siblings to cover the route. It was a good learning experience for our family but after many years - we were done.
Now during the course of those years, each of the boys had saved a great deal of money in the bank. They always had big plans for their money. My husband and I would laugh that they had spent that money over and over again in their minds but were careful when they actually started to spend it. We were proud of them for being "savers" and we felt like good lessons had been learned making those years worth it.
But as the kids have grown they have started to spend that money on different things. My oldest son had always talked about using that money to buy himself a car when he was 16. Not going to happen. Between the ages of 10 and 16, there was always something important that he needed to buy. Mostly airsoft guns, or paintball guns, video game consoles etc. The other sons followed suit always searching on Amazon for the next great purchase.
Over those years, we would limit them. We would try to reason with them about what would be the responsible thing to do. When they were younger, they would hear us out. They would listen and most times end up agreeing with us and letting the purchase go. Now don't get me wrong, there were the occasions where no matter what we said, they were going to get it cause they reeeaaalllly needed it. That was fine and it would be bought.
But soon we arrived at the time that the words, "It's my money", took over the conversation. At first, my husband and I would say that it didn't matter and we weren't going to let them piddle that money away. We knew that one day when they were older they would be sorry that they didn't have that money anymore. So we would do our best to defend against the multiple impulse buys they would have.
We would talk to them about their older half-sister who had lived with us during her high school years. She worked many jobs and long hours while she was in school. By the time she had graduated from high school she had saved $10,000 in a bank account. After graduating from college, she landed a good job in Washington D.C. and after a year of commuting, she decided to buy herself a new car with that money. They didn't want any part of that story. That money was burning a hole in all 3 boys pockets.
This past spring Son #2, (with the least money of all of the three boys) came to us with his dream to buy his surfboard. Now that boy had talked about surfing since he could walk. He had a surfer birthday party when he was 5. We tried the usual approach with our level headed frugal thoughts. But those word surfaced again. "It's my money."
One by one, each son had things they wanted to buy. The internet called their names in their sleep. Mornings began with "Look what I found." "This is a great deal." "I've always wanted one of these." And our evenings ended with, "Dad, did you look at the link I sent you?" "Mom, can you get it with your credit card, til I get to the bank?" But ultimately the fighting words, "It's my money", wore us out.
After discussing it, my husband and I decided to let them spend their money when they asked to buy something. It was clear they needed to learn the value of the dollar. Son #2 bought a surfboard. He has very little money left and now when he asks us for things we tell him, "You can buy it with your own money." That money isn't going too far.
The other two are still on their spending sprees. I have a feeling Son #1 will be sorry soon. He turned sixteen this summer and in about 6 months when he has his provisional license and wants to go out and has to fill the tank with gas, he will see how little of a distance that money will take him. Now he does still occasionally talk about using that money to start up some sort of a business and I have sparks where I feel proud of him - but for the most part he just wants what he wants when he wants it.
Our kids live in an expensive technological time. $2,000 doesn't go far after you've bought airsoft guns, paintball guns (and continuous boxes of paintballs and airsoft pellets), video games, iPods, cell phones etc. It's funny that now that they are teenagers and heading out to the mall or the movies they actually ask for money.
All of those years that we enabled them to save money...driving them on a freezing winter morning at 6 am to deliver those papers. Driving them at 4:30 during the hot summer thunderstorm. Sitting on the living room sofa bagging those papers, so they could hurry up and get back to their friends. Hmm.
Sometimes I don't know if we did the right thing. I don't know if we should have made them save that money or made those purchases. It's hard to know what's best sometimes.
The other day our son looks at us and says, "What chores do you have for me to do to earn $250?"
Did he really just say that?
Several years ago my eldest son adopted a paper route for a local paper in our neighborhood. He was homeschooling and we were excited for the opportunity of responsibility for him. Everyday he would bag his papers and deliver them on time. Double bag if it's raining. There were even special accommodations he would make for some. For the most part, his customers were unfriendly actually - in fact some were down right grouchy. Very few actually tipped them. Maybe a handful at Christmastime. It was disheartening. But there were a few that made it all worthwhile for him. There was a gentlemen who was working on restoring an old WWII jeep in his garage. My son being a history and military buff, made friends. One day before he moved from the neighborhood, he finished that jeep and took my son for a ride in it. I bet other than the money that my son was able to bank, that is probably his greatest memory of the paper route.
After he had saved about $2,000.oo, we encouraged him to let his younger siblings have a shot at the route. In hindsight, I don't know if that was a good idea or not. But as parents, we live and learn. Son #2 took over the route and it truly didn't last very long. I honestly am not even sure how long he had it. I just know it was more hassle than anything else. It wasn't of interest to him and more work than he was willing to put out. So after a time, it rolled down to my third son.
Son #3 was also a brilliant paper boy. He also worked hard, was responsible and very diligent. That paper route landed him some other odd jobs from the customers who appreciated his efforts. He picked up some "house watching" jobs while people would vacation and added to his bank account. Those paychecks made him very happy and he earned each one.
After several years of our family being held hostage by a paper route, we determined it was time to let it go. It is an enormous responsibility for the entire family. Everyday that paper comes and has to go out - rain, sleet, snow, or sun! It meant having to find substitutions for you when you want to vacation. (Those were really hard to come by. Kids these days just don't want to be bothered.) The kids would come home early from friend's houses, the pool, sporting events or whatever they may be doing that day to get that afternoon paper out by 5pm on weekdays and they would get up early Saturday and Sunday to have those papers out before 7:00am all year long. The route hindered our ability to go away at a moment's notice and if someone made plans they needed to ask one of their siblings to cover the route. It was a good learning experience for our family but after many years - we were done.
Now during the course of those years, each of the boys had saved a great deal of money in the bank. They always had big plans for their money. My husband and I would laugh that they had spent that money over and over again in their minds but were careful when they actually started to spend it. We were proud of them for being "savers" and we felt like good lessons had been learned making those years worth it.
But as the kids have grown they have started to spend that money on different things. My oldest son had always talked about using that money to buy himself a car when he was 16. Not going to happen. Between the ages of 10 and 16, there was always something important that he needed to buy. Mostly airsoft guns, or paintball guns, video game consoles etc. The other sons followed suit always searching on Amazon for the next great purchase.
Over those years, we would limit them. We would try to reason with them about what would be the responsible thing to do. When they were younger, they would hear us out. They would listen and most times end up agreeing with us and letting the purchase go. Now don't get me wrong, there were the occasions where no matter what we said, they were going to get it cause they reeeaaalllly needed it. That was fine and it would be bought.
But soon we arrived at the time that the words, "It's my money", took over the conversation. At first, my husband and I would say that it didn't matter and we weren't going to let them piddle that money away. We knew that one day when they were older they would be sorry that they didn't have that money anymore. So we would do our best to defend against the multiple impulse buys they would have.
We would talk to them about their older half-sister who had lived with us during her high school years. She worked many jobs and long hours while she was in school. By the time she had graduated from high school she had saved $10,000 in a bank account. After graduating from college, she landed a good job in Washington D.C. and after a year of commuting, she decided to buy herself a new car with that money. They didn't want any part of that story. That money was burning a hole in all 3 boys pockets.
This past spring Son #2, (with the least money of all of the three boys) came to us with his dream to buy his surfboard. Now that boy had talked about surfing since he could walk. He had a surfer birthday party when he was 5. We tried the usual approach with our level headed frugal thoughts. But those word surfaced again. "It's my money."
One by one, each son had things they wanted to buy. The internet called their names in their sleep. Mornings began with "Look what I found." "This is a great deal." "I've always wanted one of these." And our evenings ended with, "Dad, did you look at the link I sent you?" "Mom, can you get it with your credit card, til I get to the bank?" But ultimately the fighting words, "It's my money", wore us out.
After discussing it, my husband and I decided to let them spend their money when they asked to buy something. It was clear they needed to learn the value of the dollar. Son #2 bought a surfboard. He has very little money left and now when he asks us for things we tell him, "You can buy it with your own money." That money isn't going too far.
The other two are still on their spending sprees. I have a feeling Son #1 will be sorry soon. He turned sixteen this summer and in about 6 months when he has his provisional license and wants to go out and has to fill the tank with gas, he will see how little of a distance that money will take him. Now he does still occasionally talk about using that money to start up some sort of a business and I have sparks where I feel proud of him - but for the most part he just wants what he wants when he wants it.
Our kids live in an expensive technological time. $2,000 doesn't go far after you've bought airsoft guns, paintball guns (and continuous boxes of paintballs and airsoft pellets), video games, iPods, cell phones etc. It's funny that now that they are teenagers and heading out to the mall or the movies they actually ask for money.
All of those years that we enabled them to save money...driving them on a freezing winter morning at 6 am to deliver those papers. Driving them at 4:30 during the hot summer thunderstorm. Sitting on the living room sofa bagging those papers, so they could hurry up and get back to their friends. Hmm.
Sometimes I don't know if we did the right thing. I don't know if we should have made them save that money or made those purchases. It's hard to know what's best sometimes.
The other day our son looks at us and says, "What chores do you have for me to do to earn $250?"
Did he really just say that?
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
What is on your calendar?
It was a lazy Saturday morning and I had gotten up early to make a family breakfast since it is unusual that we did not have a hectic schedule ahead of us. As we were all gathered at the table enjoying what does not happen often anymore, we were promptly interrupted.
I knew it was going to happen. I should have narrated out loud at the moment but I didn’t. Our older larger golden retriever was eating in the laundry room as usual. I heard the click, click, click of the beagle’s nails headed down that hallway. I knew what was about to happen. This beagle is completely motivated by food. She is more than obese and feels entitled to any food at any time. A while back we had had an incident that my daughter dropped a small piece of crust from her toast on the kitchen floor. Both dogs lunged for it. When the older male golden retrieved it, the younger female beagle flipped out. She snarled and snapped at him. He promptly placed her entire head in his mouth. This ended badly. We had to go to the Emergency Veterinary Clinic, she stayed several nights, and yada, yada ,yada…we picked her up and paid for it – CHA CHING!
So as I sat there eating my breakfast enjoying a quiet morning with my family and I heard that beagle waddle down that hallway – I knew. She tried to slip in under his legs from behind and eat his food. When the golden did not acquiess and give way to her she barked at him authoritatively. Needless to say, this did not go over well and the golden retriever (you guessed it) proceeded to eat her head again.
Based on our prior experience we knew that this was going to be ugly. I called the vet and made the appointment. My husband returned with the beagle and a pouch of antibiotics. It didn’t appear to need stitches or irrigating this time. The puncture was directly on the top of her head. We began to administer the drugs.
Upon waking on our Sunday morning, the beagle seemed less than pleased. But I figured the antibiotics were probably not agreeing with her and that she was feeling the after effects of the golden’s anger. We went to church.
We returned from church and due to the fact that I had nothing planned for the remainder of that day and the calendar remained empty for the next day as well I decided to reach out to help my daughter reconnect with a friend from church. She was unable to get together that day so we made arrangements for the next day. Since I had nothing on my schedule, I left all arrangements at the comfort of the other mother as she had just had a baby a few weeks prior.
We remembered that my son had to pick up his football equipment later in the afternoon. As we watched an afternoon movie we were interrupted with a weather statement about thunderstorms and tornado warnings. My husband made the executive decision that we would leave promptly to beat the storm. I argued vehemently that we wait til after the storm but he was insisted so Son #3, my daughter , my husband and myself all piled into our SUV and left.
The storm hit moments after we arrived at the park. My daughter and I sat in the truck and watched the power of the storm sweep across the fields. The winds were incredible and the rain came down in buckets. The lightning was fierce and the thunder roared. It was a classic late afternoon mid summertime storm in Maryland.
As we returned home, we found the neighbor’s cherry tree laying across our driveway where the Denali would have been had we not gone to the football equipment pick up (and don’t think I didn’t hear about that repeatedly) and layed about a foot from my soft top BMW. We looked further into the backyard and found another tree – this one a maple laying across my patio, patio furniture and grill with the root ball completely lifted up out of the ground about 6-7 feet.
I was stunned. My husband and I jumped into the truck to drive around the neighborhood and assess any other damage. Naturally, in our community of 1500 homes, we were the only house to have any damage. In fact we weren’t blessed with one tree but two! Our open agenda was filling in.
The next morning I woke up early to finish cleaning up the aftermath of the patio tree. My parents had come over the night before and helped clear the maple tree away. I knew that my daughter would be having her friend to play today and I wanted to make the backyard conducive to playing again. After working outside for a couple of hours, I came in to find Son #2 holding the beagle.
She was clearly very ill. Her head was swollen beyond recognition. Her eyes were essentially slits and the top of her head and her snout were almost level. This couldn’t be good. We made the vet appointment for 11:00 am.
While washing my hands from the outdoor work, my eldest son comes into the room.
“Mom would it be okay if I went to Six Flags with a friend on Wednesday?”
“You have your sports physical for football on Wednesday.”
“Oh…”
Brief silent pause.
“Do you think you could change it?”
“I’ll see what I can do…”
I pick up the phone and call the pediatrician. She doesn’t have anything available other than this afternoon at 1:30. I take the appointment.
Soon after making the arrangements (and prior to ever taking a shower) the mother of the child that I invited to my home that I told I had nothing going on and that she could do whatever worked for her, was calling to make arrangements. She would drop her daughter off around 11.
She pulls into my driveway with the neighbor’s tree lying across it. We chit chat and she drops off her daughter. We leave the pick-up time open ended as she had some other plans with another of her children.
My husband takes the beagle to the vet with Son #2 as I would be supervising the playdate that I scheduled. He returns to tell me that they had to drain the beagle’s wound and gave her more medications. We are instructed to do warm compresses on her head every couple of hours and continue her 3 medications every 12 hours.
My husband stays to supervise the playdate while I leave to take Son #1 to his physical. I am at the doctor’s office for 2 hours. After leaving, Son #1 asks to be dropped at a friend’s house. While I am gone, the mother returned to pick up her daughter from the playdate.
After I get home, I begin to give compresses to the beagle and her oozing noggin. Son #3 has his first night of football practice later that evening that my husband will take him to. I make dinner while he is gone. When they return we eat dinner at roughly 8:30 pm.
After dinner is cleaned up, I perform more compresses. Give medication in American cheese balls. As I head upstairs, I check the tree still lying in the driveway waiting for the neighbors to acknowledge that it is there.
As I get ready for bed it dawns on me…
I never had a shower. Imagine that. I forgot to take a shower with absolutely nothing on the calendar for two whole days.
I knew it was going to happen. I should have narrated out loud at the moment but I didn’t. Our older larger golden retriever was eating in the laundry room as usual. I heard the click, click, click of the beagle’s nails headed down that hallway. I knew what was about to happen. This beagle is completely motivated by food. She is more than obese and feels entitled to any food at any time. A while back we had had an incident that my daughter dropped a small piece of crust from her toast on the kitchen floor. Both dogs lunged for it. When the older male golden retrieved it, the younger female beagle flipped out. She snarled and snapped at him. He promptly placed her entire head in his mouth. This ended badly. We had to go to the Emergency Veterinary Clinic, she stayed several nights, and yada, yada ,yada…we picked her up and paid for it – CHA CHING!
So as I sat there eating my breakfast enjoying a quiet morning with my family and I heard that beagle waddle down that hallway – I knew. She tried to slip in under his legs from behind and eat his food. When the golden did not acquiess and give way to her she barked at him authoritatively. Needless to say, this did not go over well and the golden retriever (you guessed it) proceeded to eat her head again.
Based on our prior experience we knew that this was going to be ugly. I called the vet and made the appointment. My husband returned with the beagle and a pouch of antibiotics. It didn’t appear to need stitches or irrigating this time. The puncture was directly on the top of her head. We began to administer the drugs.
Upon waking on our Sunday morning, the beagle seemed less than pleased. But I figured the antibiotics were probably not agreeing with her and that she was feeling the after effects of the golden’s anger. We went to church.
We returned from church and due to the fact that I had nothing planned for the remainder of that day and the calendar remained empty for the next day as well I decided to reach out to help my daughter reconnect with a friend from church. She was unable to get together that day so we made arrangements for the next day. Since I had nothing on my schedule, I left all arrangements at the comfort of the other mother as she had just had a baby a few weeks prior.
We remembered that my son had to pick up his football equipment later in the afternoon. As we watched an afternoon movie we were interrupted with a weather statement about thunderstorms and tornado warnings. My husband made the executive decision that we would leave promptly to beat the storm. I argued vehemently that we wait til after the storm but he was insisted so Son #3, my daughter , my husband and myself all piled into our SUV and left.
The storm hit moments after we arrived at the park. My daughter and I sat in the truck and watched the power of the storm sweep across the fields. The winds were incredible and the rain came down in buckets. The lightning was fierce and the thunder roared. It was a classic late afternoon mid summertime storm in Maryland.
As we returned home, we found the neighbor’s cherry tree laying across our driveway where the Denali would have been had we not gone to the football equipment pick up (and don’t think I didn’t hear about that repeatedly) and layed about a foot from my soft top BMW. We looked further into the backyard and found another tree – this one a maple laying across my patio, patio furniture and grill with the root ball completely lifted up out of the ground about 6-7 feet.
I was stunned. My husband and I jumped into the truck to drive around the neighborhood and assess any other damage. Naturally, in our community of 1500 homes, we were the only house to have any damage. In fact we weren’t blessed with one tree but two! Our open agenda was filling in.
The next morning I woke up early to finish cleaning up the aftermath of the patio tree. My parents had come over the night before and helped clear the maple tree away. I knew that my daughter would be having her friend to play today and I wanted to make the backyard conducive to playing again. After working outside for a couple of hours, I came in to find Son #2 holding the beagle.
She was clearly very ill. Her head was swollen beyond recognition. Her eyes were essentially slits and the top of her head and her snout were almost level. This couldn’t be good. We made the vet appointment for 11:00 am.
While washing my hands from the outdoor work, my eldest son comes into the room.
“Mom would it be okay if I went to Six Flags with a friend on Wednesday?”
“You have your sports physical for football on Wednesday.”
“Oh…”
Brief silent pause.
“Do you think you could change it?”
“I’ll see what I can do…”
I pick up the phone and call the pediatrician. She doesn’t have anything available other than this afternoon at 1:30. I take the appointment.
Soon after making the arrangements (and prior to ever taking a shower) the mother of the child that I invited to my home that I told I had nothing going on and that she could do whatever worked for her, was calling to make arrangements. She would drop her daughter off around 11.
She pulls into my driveway with the neighbor’s tree lying across it. We chit chat and she drops off her daughter. We leave the pick-up time open ended as she had some other plans with another of her children.
My husband takes the beagle to the vet with Son #2 as I would be supervising the playdate that I scheduled. He returns to tell me that they had to drain the beagle’s wound and gave her more medications. We are instructed to do warm compresses on her head every couple of hours and continue her 3 medications every 12 hours.
My husband stays to supervise the playdate while I leave to take Son #1 to his physical. I am at the doctor’s office for 2 hours. After leaving, Son #1 asks to be dropped at a friend’s house. While I am gone, the mother returned to pick up her daughter from the playdate.
After I get home, I begin to give compresses to the beagle and her oozing noggin. Son #3 has his first night of football practice later that evening that my husband will take him to. I make dinner while he is gone. When they return we eat dinner at roughly 8:30 pm.
After dinner is cleaned up, I perform more compresses. Give medication in American cheese balls. As I head upstairs, I check the tree still lying in the driveway waiting for the neighbors to acknowledge that it is there.
As I get ready for bed it dawns on me…
I never had a shower. Imagine that. I forgot to take a shower with absolutely nothing on the calendar for two whole days.
Tweenies teetering on Teens
Though my blog will be reserved for writing about parenting teenagers- I have learned that “tweenies” are younger and younger and teenagers aren’t developing just because they have the syllable “teen” at the end of a number. I felt like things seem to be happening sooner in our society. I know there is the belief of all of the hormones injected into a great deal of the food we ingest and I do believe that plays a significant role. But I have also talked with my pediatrician about the role that bombardment of sexual innuendo is playing in the sexual maturation of children.
What these kids watch contains a great deal of sexual innuendo at a younger age than my generation. The restriction of what is portrayed on television is lesser than in my early years. These things are not going over their heads. They are infiltrated with many things early on and it can stimulate a certain way of thinking and can place them in a much more knowledgeable category when the hormones start flowing. For example, when I was a kid I wasn’t allowed to watch much television after 9 pm because that is when shows like “Three’s Company or The Love Boat would be on using a much different form of entertainment than shows holding the 8 pm timeslot. Shows like Donny and Marie and Sonny and Cher variety shows, Little House on the Prairie, or The Waltons. As a society, we’ve become fairly lackadaisical about what we allow our young children to absorb; after all, it is everywhere. But I’ve never been so naive to think that these things just go over their heads. For years many television shows that all of my kids’ friends’ were watching were banned in my home- SpongeBob included. I wanted to protect them from those things that I deemed inappropriate.
If you actually sit and watch some of these shows with your children on a regular basis, you’ll see that adults or authority figures are typically portrayed as idiots – always being the butt of the joke and talked to in an extremely disrespectful manner by the child characters. This is one of my biggest pet peeves. I believe that this sets a precedent for our youth that this is how you should interact with your parents. Hannah Montana, Zach and Cody, and Drake and Josh all generate this mentality and just how many times a day do you think they are broadcasted? Most of the shows that “tweens” are watching have “teen” issues and characters. I’m not sure how many high-schoolers are still interested in iCarly though she is portraying a high school character. The audience of these shows is “tweenies” that we are empowering with teenage issues and attitudes long before they can even conceive of those thoughts.
I remember that time in my life. Those “tween” years were awkward and we were all going through our changes, but there was more modesty about it. I remember getting Tiger Beat magazine and hanging posters of Donny Osmond, Shawn and David Cassidy, Leif Garrett, and John Travolta on my walls. They were pretty much fully clothed – with the occasional unbuttoned shirt with the onset of disco. But recently, my 10 year old daughter has consistently begged me for posters of Taylor Lautner completely bare-chested. She describes him with words like “hot”. It freaks me out.
I have spent a great deal of time remembering being 10 years old lately because of my daughter. I don’t recall that there was anything unusual about it. It was all fairly innocent. I remember having my first “boyfriend” that year. He was in my class. We played on the playground together and sometimes sat together at lunch. But mostly, he called me just about every night and occasionally rode his bike to my house. Eventually elementary school would end and we would go our separate ways to different middle schools. Interestingly, when we met up again at the same high school, we never acknowledged that 5th grade year. If it wasn’t such a big deal for me then - why can’t I imagine any boy calling my daughter or visiting my daughter on his bike now?
I remember boy/girl parties in my girlfriend’s basement. You know, the long table filled with Doritos, Cheetos, M&M’s and the wide variety of sodas. The lights off with colored light bulbs, turning multi-colored disco balls and strobe lights while the latest K-TEL compilation album blasting out KC and the Sunshine Band, Pablo Cruise and Gloria Gaynor. The boys would line the wall opposite of the girls and everyone waited for Robert John’s Sad Eyes or The Commodores “Sail On” to play, signifying that it was time for couples to dance. Inevitably, all drama began at the moment that a boy chose a girl to dance (naturally by way of sending his best friend to ask her best friend) because someone else’s heart was clearly broken. You could be assured that the rest of the night would be filled with everyone choosing sides and defending and attacking their classmates. Nothing catastrophic ever happened back then so why can’t I imagine my 10 year old daughter in that scenario. I wonder why it feels different? Does that mean I am getting old?
Recently we were on a family beach vacation. My mother, my daughter and myself were sitting under our umbrella on the beach when a large pack of twenty something college guys decided to use the open beach directly in front of us to play football. These guys were all naturally bare-chested and in bathing suits as we were at the beach. To my surprise and completely unprompted, my daughter began to rate these boys based on their physical characteristics. She chose the best smile, the best abs, the overall best looking etc. (On a side note, I was impressed with her taste as each one that she categorized I could see that he had been appropriately chosen.) She talked about those guys for the entire vacation. They had left quite an impression upon her. Her reaction has left quite an impression upon me.
I remember receiving my first set of Judy Blume books when I was 10. It was a rite of passage thing. “Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret.” It was a book discussing the onset of puberty from a young girl’s point of view. I remember that being my first introduction to openly acknowledging sexuality and it was a big deal when I received those. So based on some of the changes that are taking place with her, I decided to take my daughter to make the purchase of the Blume books. I felt like we were taking a big step- a significant Mother Daughter bonding expedition. Besides after our trip to the beach, it was clear to me that hormones were already starting to circulate within her, and had been for a while. Sadly, it wasn’t nearly the special moment that it had been for me back then or was for me as a mother now. Clearly, my daughter had already been witness to music videos and television that had already robbed her of that. But I do think she liked that I was acknowledging her as an emerging pubescent.
Those teenage years come fast and furious and they are hard on all parties involved. The past ten years truly flew by. My little girl is emerging into a young lady and as much as I want to stop it, it is like a speeding train. Regardless of what I feel, she is changing. And if I think about it, she is right on time with my own maturation process.
But I think what I’ve figured out is that she is coming into it all so much more openly educated by society than I was. Part of the process of the “tweenies” for me was peeling back the layers of innocence and uncovering the emerging adolescent over a period of years. But when there isn’t much innocence to peel away, you are pretty much at the heart of it all raw and uncensored at the age of 10 instead of the age of 12. It is sad if you think about it. We are robbing our children of the experience to discover their changing selves.
I have been the mom of teenage boys for a while now as well as a dance teacher of teenage girls. I’ve seen a lot. I’ve heard a lot. I know what we are about to embark on. I want to be excited for her. I wish I could embrace this time of life with her but instead I’m hesitant and cautious. I’m sad because I have amazing memories from that time of exploration from my life when I was 10 years old. Yet I know that it will be drastically different for her because she has been clued in to so much already. In the meantime, I’ll continue to reject the bare-chested posters. I’ll just pray that she doesn’t receive an invitation to any girl/boy parties anytime soon and I’ll watch out for strange boys on bikes.
What these kids watch contains a great deal of sexual innuendo at a younger age than my generation. The restriction of what is portrayed on television is lesser than in my early years. These things are not going over their heads. They are infiltrated with many things early on and it can stimulate a certain way of thinking and can place them in a much more knowledgeable category when the hormones start flowing. For example, when I was a kid I wasn’t allowed to watch much television after 9 pm because that is when shows like “Three’s Company or The Love Boat would be on using a much different form of entertainment than shows holding the 8 pm timeslot. Shows like Donny and Marie and Sonny and Cher variety shows, Little House on the Prairie, or The Waltons. As a society, we’ve become fairly lackadaisical about what we allow our young children to absorb; after all, it is everywhere. But I’ve never been so naive to think that these things just go over their heads. For years many television shows that all of my kids’ friends’ were watching were banned in my home- SpongeBob included. I wanted to protect them from those things that I deemed inappropriate.
If you actually sit and watch some of these shows with your children on a regular basis, you’ll see that adults or authority figures are typically portrayed as idiots – always being the butt of the joke and talked to in an extremely disrespectful manner by the child characters. This is one of my biggest pet peeves. I believe that this sets a precedent for our youth that this is how you should interact with your parents. Hannah Montana, Zach and Cody, and Drake and Josh all generate this mentality and just how many times a day do you think they are broadcasted? Most of the shows that “tweens” are watching have “teen” issues and characters. I’m not sure how many high-schoolers are still interested in iCarly though she is portraying a high school character. The audience of these shows is “tweenies” that we are empowering with teenage issues and attitudes long before they can even conceive of those thoughts.
I remember that time in my life. Those “tween” years were awkward and we were all going through our changes, but there was more modesty about it. I remember getting Tiger Beat magazine and hanging posters of Donny Osmond, Shawn and David Cassidy, Leif Garrett, and John Travolta on my walls. They were pretty much fully clothed – with the occasional unbuttoned shirt with the onset of disco. But recently, my 10 year old daughter has consistently begged me for posters of Taylor Lautner completely bare-chested. She describes him with words like “hot”. It freaks me out.
I have spent a great deal of time remembering being 10 years old lately because of my daughter. I don’t recall that there was anything unusual about it. It was all fairly innocent. I remember having my first “boyfriend” that year. He was in my class. We played on the playground together and sometimes sat together at lunch. But mostly, he called me just about every night and occasionally rode his bike to my house. Eventually elementary school would end and we would go our separate ways to different middle schools. Interestingly, when we met up again at the same high school, we never acknowledged that 5th grade year. If it wasn’t such a big deal for me then - why can’t I imagine any boy calling my daughter or visiting my daughter on his bike now?
I remember boy/girl parties in my girlfriend’s basement. You know, the long table filled with Doritos, Cheetos, M&M’s and the wide variety of sodas. The lights off with colored light bulbs, turning multi-colored disco balls and strobe lights while the latest K-TEL compilation album blasting out KC and the Sunshine Band, Pablo Cruise and Gloria Gaynor. The boys would line the wall opposite of the girls and everyone waited for Robert John’s Sad Eyes or The Commodores “Sail On” to play, signifying that it was time for couples to dance. Inevitably, all drama began at the moment that a boy chose a girl to dance (naturally by way of sending his best friend to ask her best friend) because someone else’s heart was clearly broken. You could be assured that the rest of the night would be filled with everyone choosing sides and defending and attacking their classmates. Nothing catastrophic ever happened back then so why can’t I imagine my 10 year old daughter in that scenario. I wonder why it feels different? Does that mean I am getting old?
Recently we were on a family beach vacation. My mother, my daughter and myself were sitting under our umbrella on the beach when a large pack of twenty something college guys decided to use the open beach directly in front of us to play football. These guys were all naturally bare-chested and in bathing suits as we were at the beach. To my surprise and completely unprompted, my daughter began to rate these boys based on their physical characteristics. She chose the best smile, the best abs, the overall best looking etc. (On a side note, I was impressed with her taste as each one that she categorized I could see that he had been appropriately chosen.) She talked about those guys for the entire vacation. They had left quite an impression upon her. Her reaction has left quite an impression upon me.
I remember receiving my first set of Judy Blume books when I was 10. It was a rite of passage thing. “Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret.” It was a book discussing the onset of puberty from a young girl’s point of view. I remember that being my first introduction to openly acknowledging sexuality and it was a big deal when I received those. So based on some of the changes that are taking place with her, I decided to take my daughter to make the purchase of the Blume books. I felt like we were taking a big step- a significant Mother Daughter bonding expedition. Besides after our trip to the beach, it was clear to me that hormones were already starting to circulate within her, and had been for a while. Sadly, it wasn’t nearly the special moment that it had been for me back then or was for me as a mother now. Clearly, my daughter had already been witness to music videos and television that had already robbed her of that. But I do think she liked that I was acknowledging her as an emerging pubescent.
Those teenage years come fast and furious and they are hard on all parties involved. The past ten years truly flew by. My little girl is emerging into a young lady and as much as I want to stop it, it is like a speeding train. Regardless of what I feel, she is changing. And if I think about it, she is right on time with my own maturation process.
But I think what I’ve figured out is that she is coming into it all so much more openly educated by society than I was. Part of the process of the “tweenies” for me was peeling back the layers of innocence and uncovering the emerging adolescent over a period of years. But when there isn’t much innocence to peel away, you are pretty much at the heart of it all raw and uncensored at the age of 10 instead of the age of 12. It is sad if you think about it. We are robbing our children of the experience to discover their changing selves.
I have been the mom of teenage boys for a while now as well as a dance teacher of teenage girls. I’ve seen a lot. I’ve heard a lot. I know what we are about to embark on. I want to be excited for her. I wish I could embrace this time of life with her but instead I’m hesitant and cautious. I’m sad because I have amazing memories from that time of exploration from my life when I was 10 years old. Yet I know that it will be drastically different for her because she has been clued in to so much already. In the meantime, I’ll continue to reject the bare-chested posters. I’ll just pray that she doesn’t receive an invitation to any girl/boy parties anytime soon and I’ll watch out for strange boys on bikes.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
"Tell me what I should say."
"Tell me what I should say!"
I hear those words come from my 12 year old son's mouth directed at his two older brothers from the backseat of the Denali as we are driving home from vacation. It only takes a moment to register that this is not a good thing.
My 3rd son is still my "good" boy. He will still do chores without much complaint when asked and he still believes I make sense when I talk. For the most part I have very little trouble with him and haven't for his entire life. But I know that those teen years are taunting me, ready to snatch him from me at any second and he will cross over to the "dark side" with his older brothers where Mom's are no longer cool and grow increasingly ignorant with each day - where they are driven by the possibilities of bad decisions and poor judgment and everyone over the age of 21 is practically ancient.
I listen carefully to the banter back and forth amongst the three boys while I pretend to be singing happily along to my 70's one hit wonders seeming oblivious to their conversation.
"This is what you say." "Here, ask her what her favorite color is." "Ask her what her favorite boy's name is." "Did she say your name?" "Dude! She totally likes you." "Tell her that her name is your favorite girls's name." "No, that's stupid." "Do you really think she likes me?" "Tell me what to say!"
My mind begins racing with so many thoughts. This child has been homeschooled his entire life. I guess that doesn't put off "liking girls". Rats. I had hoped that since he wasn't in the center of the middle school drama that we might prolong this. But after eavesdropping- clearly this is happening regardless. Bummer. Then it occurs to me that my two eldest sons, whom I have been known to call Beavis and Butthead or Dumb and Dumber since their testosterone poisoning began, is where my 12 year old is looking for relationship advice. Yikes. Scary thought. I keep singing, "Brandy, you're a fine girl (fine girl) what a goooood wife you would be..."
Later that evening Son #3 comes to see me. He starts asking about our plans for the next day and is clearly positioning himself to ask permission to do something. After some beating around the bush, he asks if he can "hang out" with someone. Eventually he gives up that it is a girl. Hmm.
I ask nonchalantly, "Is this the same girl you were talking to earlier?"
The answer is yes. I ask him if she is his girlfriend and he jumps with an emphatic NO! I give him permission and ask him if this is a "date". He does not want to use that word. By this time, his brothers are horning in on the conversation, telling him that if he is meeting a girl alone to spend time with her, it is obviously a date. He doesn't seem to be amused and swears that it isn't. I decide to respect his privacy.
Remember the television show "The Wonder Years"? I loved that show. That show helps me to remember that time in my life and gain some perspective. I think about Kevin and Winnie. I decide not to question him any further. It is evident that his older brothers are going to harass him enough. He has requested permission to ride his bike to a local park that seems to be a halfway point between our house and this new "friend". Her mother is going to drop her off and then they will walk around and talk for a while. The plans are set.
The next day Son #3 gets up and showers of his own volition. Soon after, I smell cologne wafting through the air. He is happy and chatty. I pretend not to notice. I empty the dishwasher and water the potted plants outside. I check my email. Make the bed. All this time, I am pretending not to care that he is obviously very anxious to leave soon. I don't recall that I have ever seen him go through all of these motions to go out with the guys and play "Kick the Can."
He decides that he better get going because he doesn't want to be late and informs me that he will text me and keep in touch with me. I tell him to have a good time. I watch him hop on his bike and head off to meet his friend. As he heads off down the court, I know that this is a big deal. He is my son of few words though. Always has been. I know that this encounter will also be relayed to me with very few words. Somehow I know that would be best for me too.
The phone rings about an hour after he has left, asking me to pick him up from the park. His friend has to leave to go to lunch with her mother and he would like a ride back home. Seems the bike ride there was easier than the bike ride home.
I pull into the parking lot and he is sitting all alone on the curb. Not another soul around. He puts his bike into the back of the truck and jumps in.
"So, how was it?"
"Fine."
"Where is she?"
"I told you, she had to go."
"Did you have a good time?"
"Yes."
"Is she your girlfriend?"
"No."
"Okay. What do you want for lunch?"
"What do we have?"
Just like that it was over. I had no information. No details. Only that he was home, ready for lunch and making plans to hang out with the guys to play some Wiffle Ball. He thanked me for picking him up and for making lemonade. I don't know what happened. I don't even know what the intentions actually were. I just know that it appears I still get to keep Son #3 on my team. As of today, he hasn't crossed over to the "Dark Side". Though I feel now that it is coming shortly...I fear the next time he asks to go to the park, he may not need the ride home. But I sure am glad that he did today.
I hear those words come from my 12 year old son's mouth directed at his two older brothers from the backseat of the Denali as we are driving home from vacation. It only takes a moment to register that this is not a good thing.
My 3rd son is still my "good" boy. He will still do chores without much complaint when asked and he still believes I make sense when I talk. For the most part I have very little trouble with him and haven't for his entire life. But I know that those teen years are taunting me, ready to snatch him from me at any second and he will cross over to the "dark side" with his older brothers where Mom's are no longer cool and grow increasingly ignorant with each day - where they are driven by the possibilities of bad decisions and poor judgment and everyone over the age of 21 is practically ancient.
I listen carefully to the banter back and forth amongst the three boys while I pretend to be singing happily along to my 70's one hit wonders seeming oblivious to their conversation.
"This is what you say." "Here, ask her what her favorite color is." "Ask her what her favorite boy's name is." "Did she say your name?" "Dude! She totally likes you." "Tell her that her name is your favorite girls's name." "No, that's stupid." "Do you really think she likes me?" "Tell me what to say!"
My mind begins racing with so many thoughts. This child has been homeschooled his entire life. I guess that doesn't put off "liking girls". Rats. I had hoped that since he wasn't in the center of the middle school drama that we might prolong this. But after eavesdropping- clearly this is happening regardless. Bummer. Then it occurs to me that my two eldest sons, whom I have been known to call Beavis and Butthead or Dumb and Dumber since their testosterone poisoning began, is where my 12 year old is looking for relationship advice. Yikes. Scary thought. I keep singing, "Brandy, you're a fine girl (fine girl) what a goooood wife you would be..."
Later that evening Son #3 comes to see me. He starts asking about our plans for the next day and is clearly positioning himself to ask permission to do something. After some beating around the bush, he asks if he can "hang out" with someone. Eventually he gives up that it is a girl. Hmm.
I ask nonchalantly, "Is this the same girl you were talking to earlier?"
The answer is yes. I ask him if she is his girlfriend and he jumps with an emphatic NO! I give him permission and ask him if this is a "date". He does not want to use that word. By this time, his brothers are horning in on the conversation, telling him that if he is meeting a girl alone to spend time with her, it is obviously a date. He doesn't seem to be amused and swears that it isn't. I decide to respect his privacy.
Remember the television show "The Wonder Years"? I loved that show. That show helps me to remember that time in my life and gain some perspective. I think about Kevin and Winnie. I decide not to question him any further. It is evident that his older brothers are going to harass him enough. He has requested permission to ride his bike to a local park that seems to be a halfway point between our house and this new "friend". Her mother is going to drop her off and then they will walk around and talk for a while. The plans are set.
The next day Son #3 gets up and showers of his own volition. Soon after, I smell cologne wafting through the air. He is happy and chatty. I pretend not to notice. I empty the dishwasher and water the potted plants outside. I check my email. Make the bed. All this time, I am pretending not to care that he is obviously very anxious to leave soon. I don't recall that I have ever seen him go through all of these motions to go out with the guys and play "Kick the Can."
He decides that he better get going because he doesn't want to be late and informs me that he will text me and keep in touch with me. I tell him to have a good time. I watch him hop on his bike and head off to meet his friend. As he heads off down the court, I know that this is a big deal. He is my son of few words though. Always has been. I know that this encounter will also be relayed to me with very few words. Somehow I know that would be best for me too.
The phone rings about an hour after he has left, asking me to pick him up from the park. His friend has to leave to go to lunch with her mother and he would like a ride back home. Seems the bike ride there was easier than the bike ride home.
I pull into the parking lot and he is sitting all alone on the curb. Not another soul around. He puts his bike into the back of the truck and jumps in.
"So, how was it?"
"Fine."
"Where is she?"
"I told you, she had to go."
"Did you have a good time?"
"Yes."
"Is she your girlfriend?"
"No."
"Okay. What do you want for lunch?"
"What do we have?"
Just like that it was over. I had no information. No details. Only that he was home, ready for lunch and making plans to hang out with the guys to play some Wiffle Ball. He thanked me for picking him up and for making lemonade. I don't know what happened. I don't even know what the intentions actually were. I just know that it appears I still get to keep Son #3 on my team. As of today, he hasn't crossed over to the "Dark Side". Though I feel now that it is coming shortly...I fear the next time he asks to go to the park, he may not need the ride home. But I sure am glad that he did today.
Not Like Mother, Not Like Daughter
I don't know what I would do without my youngest child and only daughter. Her insight to people and outlook on most things usually surprises me. It is funny how she teaches me so much everyday just by watching how she reacts to life. I am a better person because of her.
She is an old soul in a 10 year old body. Always seeming to size people up pretty quickly and her personality is fairly carefree. She is opinionated and strong willed, very confident and comfortable in her own skin. She is typically laid back and unconcerned with what others may think of her -- basically marching to her own drum. Not me. I am a worry wart. Definitely high maintenance and high strung. Always concerned with how things appear and what people think.
We are in New York City for the next couple of weeks. She is attending a ballet summer intensive camp. She attended this same camp last summer and I attended the teacher portion as I am a ballet instructor in the evenings for a local studio. But this year I had to choose whether I would be a dance teacher or a mom as her program and the teaching program were at different weeks and it would not be ideal to leave my family alone for 4 weeks over the summer. I chose to be a mom and allow my daughter to pursue her love of dance. We walk around the city and I am blown away by her ability. Her ability to be here at such a young age, going into a building not knowing anyone and handling it with such grace - fueled by her passion to dance.
Travelling is not easy for me. I am pretty much a creature of habit and I don't like to be away from home much. I have some physical limitations that I have suffered with for nearly 25 years of sickness. Having issues of that nature always make travelling difficult and uncomfortable.
Over the years, I have tried to venture out and do as much as I possibly can for my kids. For 25 years, I was diagnosed with IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome) and was told this was brought on from stress. It was something I was ashamed of and embarrassed about. Mostly because I felt that it meant that I was some crazy person who couldn't handle life. I never understood why I would become sick, only that I seem to always become sick and spent so much time trying to cover it up so that no one would know. I was told by one of my doctors during the years that I should never tell my children so that I didn't "plant the seed" that they might begin to struggle with the same issues. Since I wouldn't wish this lifestyle upon my worst enemy - I didn't share it with my kids and did everything I could to hide it from them. This always created a vicious cycle for me. It made it harder.
As kids get older they are more observant. They ask more questions and trying to redirect their attention elsewhere becomes transparent. They started asking me why I always get "sick". They were aware of the years of gallbladder pain I endured and watched me make dietary corrections. They knew that if we travelled somewhere I spent most of the time "sick" and never really able to get out and enjoy our destination or time away. Recently, I was shopping with my two middle sons, preparing for our beach vacation and my trip to NYC. They watched me purchase Gas X, Immodium AD, Tums, and Digestive Advantage. The older son finally said, "Mom do have a problem?" Then the younger son added, "Yeah, Mom, are you okay?"
Unhappy with a fast health decline, I changed physicans over the past couple of months and they had begun the process of running tests to figure out why I am the way I am. My husband said, "I've known you for 20 years and you've always been like this." I told him, "It is getting much worse. I think something is really wrong."
Right before I left for NYC they called to tell me that I have Celiac Disease and probably have for the past 25 years. I have a gluten intolerance and a wheat allergy. It was never in my head, it was in my gut and completely out of my control. At first I was relieved to know that there was an answer. Unfortunately eliminating gluten from your diet forever is a fairly complex situation. I am learning just how complex as I try to keep myself nourished for 2 weeks while living in a hotel in NYC. It is just about impossible to find 3 gluten free meals each day for 2 weeks. I ordered a salad last night and became ill this morning. Guess I'll be living off of the box of Rice Chex I stashed in the hotel room. Ugh.
My daughter is now completely aware of my issue and is constantly worried about me here. She wants to make sure that I am getting something to eat and drink and asking me how I feel. She sees me search through my pharmaceutical bag for the next needed medication. She chimes into help.
It is so hard. I want to be the carefree mom that can just pick up and go and enjoy her time here. But I can't. I am doing all that I can to suck it up so that my daughter doesn't feel burdened by my problem. She is worried about me when she should be focused on herself right now. When we arrived on our first day she asked my husband, "What happens if something happens to Mom? What do I do?" It was the first time that it ever occurred to her. But it is exactly what I have thought about each time I have to leave the house.
I wanted to cry when we first got here. I wanted to go home so badly. Home is safe. I can control carefully what I eat and not be so sick - and if anything did happen, well I was home. But that isn't what Moms do. Moms find a way to make things happen for our children even when they are near impossible for us to do. A mom loves her child that much. So, I pop some Tums, sip some water, watch the clock in the hotel room and try to decide when or if I should eat anything knowing what time I need to pick up and drop off my daughter.
This morning she was nervous to find out what level she had been placed in after auditions yesterday. She talked about going home and not staying if things didn't turn out well. In my mind I thought, "That would be heaven." But instead I heard something else flow from my lips. "We'll see. No matter what level they place you in, you should respect it. You should find out what it is that they want you to work on and do it. Don't go home upset. Accept the challenge."
I couldn't even believe I said it. I was encouraging her to stay at all costs. Even knowing it was nearly killing me to be here. After I left her at the studio I walked back to the hotel hoping that maybe at some point I might be able to eat or drink something before returning this afternoon to pick her up. So far...I haven't.
When people asked me what plans I had made while being in the City alone for 2 weeks, I didn't know what to say because I knew my limitations. However, over the course of this summer, some wonderful blessings have been bestowed upon me, especially my new writing job. Writing doesn't require me to be out and about anywhere. All I need to do is settle in and type. So the good news is that I have alot of writing work to do while I am here. So I may not be out running around the streets of New York, but I don't need to feel bad about that. God gave me something that I can completely manage while my girl is out there doing her thing. I can write til my heart's content.
She is everything that I am not. She is strong. She is fearless. She is brave and confident. I have said on numerous occasions over the years...when I grow up I want to be Caroline. Because I see all the things in her that I wish I was. I watch her and learn. I knew I would be a spectator on this trip. But as I sit here typing this, I realize I AM doing it. We are here despite everything. I am encouraging her even though I want to be home. I am putting her needs before my own because I want what is best for her. Those words that I spoke to her applied just as much to me. "Don't go home upset. Accept the challenge." I will get through these next 2 weeks because I am fueled by the passion of Motherhood. Think I'll have some Ginger Ale now.
She is an old soul in a 10 year old body. Always seeming to size people up pretty quickly and her personality is fairly carefree. She is opinionated and strong willed, very confident and comfortable in her own skin. She is typically laid back and unconcerned with what others may think of her -- basically marching to her own drum. Not me. I am a worry wart. Definitely high maintenance and high strung. Always concerned with how things appear and what people think.
We are in New York City for the next couple of weeks. She is attending a ballet summer intensive camp. She attended this same camp last summer and I attended the teacher portion as I am a ballet instructor in the evenings for a local studio. But this year I had to choose whether I would be a dance teacher or a mom as her program and the teaching program were at different weeks and it would not be ideal to leave my family alone for 4 weeks over the summer. I chose to be a mom and allow my daughter to pursue her love of dance. We walk around the city and I am blown away by her ability. Her ability to be here at such a young age, going into a building not knowing anyone and handling it with such grace - fueled by her passion to dance.
Travelling is not easy for me. I am pretty much a creature of habit and I don't like to be away from home much. I have some physical limitations that I have suffered with for nearly 25 years of sickness. Having issues of that nature always make travelling difficult and uncomfortable.
Over the years, I have tried to venture out and do as much as I possibly can for my kids. For 25 years, I was diagnosed with IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome) and was told this was brought on from stress. It was something I was ashamed of and embarrassed about. Mostly because I felt that it meant that I was some crazy person who couldn't handle life. I never understood why I would become sick, only that I seem to always become sick and spent so much time trying to cover it up so that no one would know. I was told by one of my doctors during the years that I should never tell my children so that I didn't "plant the seed" that they might begin to struggle with the same issues. Since I wouldn't wish this lifestyle upon my worst enemy - I didn't share it with my kids and did everything I could to hide it from them. This always created a vicious cycle for me. It made it harder.
As kids get older they are more observant. They ask more questions and trying to redirect their attention elsewhere becomes transparent. They started asking me why I always get "sick". They were aware of the years of gallbladder pain I endured and watched me make dietary corrections. They knew that if we travelled somewhere I spent most of the time "sick" and never really able to get out and enjoy our destination or time away. Recently, I was shopping with my two middle sons, preparing for our beach vacation and my trip to NYC. They watched me purchase Gas X, Immodium AD, Tums, and Digestive Advantage. The older son finally said, "Mom do have a problem?" Then the younger son added, "Yeah, Mom, are you okay?"
Unhappy with a fast health decline, I changed physicans over the past couple of months and they had begun the process of running tests to figure out why I am the way I am. My husband said, "I've known you for 20 years and you've always been like this." I told him, "It is getting much worse. I think something is really wrong."
Right before I left for NYC they called to tell me that I have Celiac Disease and probably have for the past 25 years. I have a gluten intolerance and a wheat allergy. It was never in my head, it was in my gut and completely out of my control. At first I was relieved to know that there was an answer. Unfortunately eliminating gluten from your diet forever is a fairly complex situation. I am learning just how complex as I try to keep myself nourished for 2 weeks while living in a hotel in NYC. It is just about impossible to find 3 gluten free meals each day for 2 weeks. I ordered a salad last night and became ill this morning. Guess I'll be living off of the box of Rice Chex I stashed in the hotel room. Ugh.
My daughter is now completely aware of my issue and is constantly worried about me here. She wants to make sure that I am getting something to eat and drink and asking me how I feel. She sees me search through my pharmaceutical bag for the next needed medication. She chimes into help.
It is so hard. I want to be the carefree mom that can just pick up and go and enjoy her time here. But I can't. I am doing all that I can to suck it up so that my daughter doesn't feel burdened by my problem. She is worried about me when she should be focused on herself right now. When we arrived on our first day she asked my husband, "What happens if something happens to Mom? What do I do?" It was the first time that it ever occurred to her. But it is exactly what I have thought about each time I have to leave the house.
I wanted to cry when we first got here. I wanted to go home so badly. Home is safe. I can control carefully what I eat and not be so sick - and if anything did happen, well I was home. But that isn't what Moms do. Moms find a way to make things happen for our children even when they are near impossible for us to do. A mom loves her child that much. So, I pop some Tums, sip some water, watch the clock in the hotel room and try to decide when or if I should eat anything knowing what time I need to pick up and drop off my daughter.
This morning she was nervous to find out what level she had been placed in after auditions yesterday. She talked about going home and not staying if things didn't turn out well. In my mind I thought, "That would be heaven." But instead I heard something else flow from my lips. "We'll see. No matter what level they place you in, you should respect it. You should find out what it is that they want you to work on and do it. Don't go home upset. Accept the challenge."
I couldn't even believe I said it. I was encouraging her to stay at all costs. Even knowing it was nearly killing me to be here. After I left her at the studio I walked back to the hotel hoping that maybe at some point I might be able to eat or drink something before returning this afternoon to pick her up. So far...I haven't.
When people asked me what plans I had made while being in the City alone for 2 weeks, I didn't know what to say because I knew my limitations. However, over the course of this summer, some wonderful blessings have been bestowed upon me, especially my new writing job. Writing doesn't require me to be out and about anywhere. All I need to do is settle in and type. So the good news is that I have alot of writing work to do while I am here. So I may not be out running around the streets of New York, but I don't need to feel bad about that. God gave me something that I can completely manage while my girl is out there doing her thing. I can write til my heart's content.
She is everything that I am not. She is strong. She is fearless. She is brave and confident. I have said on numerous occasions over the years...when I grow up I want to be Caroline. Because I see all the things in her that I wish I was. I watch her and learn. I knew I would be a spectator on this trip. But as I sit here typing this, I realize I AM doing it. We are here despite everything. I am encouraging her even though I want to be home. I am putting her needs before my own because I want what is best for her. Those words that I spoke to her applied just as much to me. "Don't go home upset. Accept the challenge." I will get through these next 2 weeks because I am fueled by the passion of Motherhood. Think I'll have some Ginger Ale now.
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