Young at Heart

Image via WikipediaWhen my children were younger, they went through all the normal milestones: crawling, talking, walking, etc. I'm sure I went through them when I was young, too. The thing is- I don't remember them.

However, my children are beginning to hit the age where I have started remembering my own personal experiences. Now I have something to compare.

So begins the phrase every child hates, "When I was your age..."

"But, kids," I say, "You don't know how good you've got it." And I watch watch as they try to be respectful by suppressing the eye rolls, the involuntary twitches and the sighs.

But in truth, I don't know how my parents would have reacted to this modern-day world, where we have products never even dreamed of when I was growing up.

I grew up with a phone that had a rotary dial, a cord that stretched almost the length of the house, and no call waiting or electronic voice mail. Cell phones were only something imagined on Star Trek, and they were called "communicators."

So, how would my parents have handled cell phones? Well, if having my own phone in my own room was any indication of my communication privileges, I would say I probably wouldn't have had a cell until every last one of my classmates had one. And even then, I doubt they would have allowed the texting feature unless I paid for it.

Does that sound harsh? Well, to them it was about allowing a child to grow up slowly and not giving them access to friends 24/7. Or at least I think that's what it was about.

They were probably just feeling their way along the whole parenting thing. Just like I do today.

Our family rule now is that children are allowed a cell phone when they are 10 years old. Many would argue that is way too young. But with our busy family of five, it works for us. The unspoken rule is that "if mom calls, you had better answer."

And my kids and I use our cell phones to text and call each other. I have been able to talk more with my daughter via texts than I ever believe I would be able to face-to-face.

I know of people who have let their kids have cell phones at age 6. Now, there's no way I would do that. First of all, at 6, my kids would have lost the phone in 15 minutes flat. Secondly, what does one 6 year old really say to another?

I also know of people who wouldn't let their child have a cell phone until they were old enough to purchase it on their own. That, in itself, is not a bad plan. However, it's just not one that necessarily works for our family. But then, that's just me.

I guess a lot of my parents decisions could have been based on affordability, too. Because my kids don't have "data packages" on their phones. I don't know if they would if I could afford them or not.
But I do know that I also want to limit their access to the internet and the world (via the computer & said data package). Why? So they can maintain some of their innocence and grow up more slowly.

Besides the differences in phones, I remember growing up with a tiny closet, the ability to walk to the store six blocks over without having a parent with me and thinking how "worldly" I was because I knew people who lived in Georgia- a whole state away.

Today, my closet is probably as big as my room. I wouldn't let my child walk more than about three blocks by themselves- and they had best have their phone and text me to let me know they got there okay. And I have friends all over the world through the magic of the internet.

The point? There are many lessons I learned in my childhood that I wish for my children to learn in theirs. They may not learn them the same way I did, simply because we live in such a different world than I did growing up.

But remembering my youth helps trigger some of those all-important lessons so that I can know the approximate timing for teaching my kids. And it also gives me a place to compare and contrast to try to remember what worked on me and what didn't.

My youngest child is currently counting down the months until she turns 10. I'll be very interested to see how she handles the responsibility, and how many friends she has with whom she can actually text & talk.

I'm also anxious to see how things change in the future. I mean, my youth was great. But how can you compare a rotary phone with an iPhone? Like Billy Joel sang, "The good old days weren't always good. And tomorrow's not as bad as it seems."

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Slumber Party is an Oxymoron

Image via WikipediaSo, what began as a "lazy, relaxing evening," quickly turned into a sociology experiment run amok. I planned on me and my kids having a do-it-yourself dinner, then playing board games for the evening.
Ha! And I say "Ha!" again!
Dear son invited three (3) other 14 year old boys over. Dear older daughter invited one friend over. And dear younger daughter invited one friend over. I should also mention that we are watching my brother's dog, too. So there was a total of: four boys, four girls, two dogs, a cat and me.
I'll give you three guesses as to what dinner was like. The boys plowed through the pizzas like it was their job. I've never actually seen two slices of pizza eaten in three bites- until tonight.
The girls giggled and carried on, while primly sitting at the table and eating their miniature pizza slices with a pinky in the air. However, they found the candy bars- and hid them from the boys, even feigning ignorance when questioned by said boys.
Then there were cell phones. Wow. I was in invisible parental heaven. While I sat quietly in my room, I eves-dropped on the boys calling girls from their class and asking them, "So, if you HAD to like one of us, which of us would it be?" And I listened to the girls giggling madly as they texted back and forth with a particularly "cute" boy from their class.
If I ever asked them point-blank about these things, I would likely get no more response than a hair toss and a shoulder shrug. But in their ego-centric world, where they can't believe that anything happens unless they witness it, I was a fly on the wall, soaking in every word.
I was pleasantly surprised at how appreciative and polite all of the kids were. Typically, kids have a bad reputation of being snarky, disrespectful and generally feeling like the world should cater to their every whim. However, these kids thanked me for the pizza, in between snarfing it down in large gulps. They made sure the dogs didn't eat extra food lying around. And, they were respectful of my (very generous) curfew times.
Yes, it was very loud. Yes, I felt considerably old and quite out-numbered. But, over all it was a very nice experience. And my kids had a blast.
And the best part? I'll bet we can all go to bed early tomorrow night. :)

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I'm Weird

Image by elana's pantry via FlickrI'm weird.

I grew up in an a-typical American family: My father and mother married, then had children. They have never divorced. I rarely see them disagree. And we liked each other.

My brother nor I did drugs or ran with the wrong crowd (Okay, that last bit could be challenged, depending on who you talk to LOL). We both made good grades and had jobs in High School. Each of us married our spouses, then had children. Each of us are gainfully employed, and have happy lives.

I also like my family, and my husband's family. I don't feel like I'm discriminated against. I don't feel like the world owes me anything, or the government is out to get me. But I'm not on any kind of medication (prescription or illegal) that makes me ingenuously happy, either. I don't have a vice that is any more egregious than diet coke. I really don't drink very often. I don't smoke.

My children don't have any disabilities (other than the fact that we are their parents LOL). They are polite, well-mannered children. They get good grades and enjoy their family.

We don't "tangle" with the law. We don't have any "Oprah-worthy" events in our lives. We would never be good material for a reality show.

We go to church and have strong beliefs. But we practice tolerance and loving our neighbors.

Basically, we are "plain vanilla" in a "thirty-one flavors" kind of society. And I personally could not be happier to be plain.

The funny thing is, while diversity is promoted in the media, and abnormality is celebrated as what is the true "norm," ours is the life people want.  Pop star calamities are glitzy and make headlines. And standing up to admit our failures and shortcomings to the world is so common, it's almost passe'.

But at the end of the day, most people would rather have had a satisfying, fulfilling day of work, and come home to a loving family and a warm home.

So, yes, I'm weird. And this Thanksgiving, I give thanks to God that He made me that way. I am happy and content... and weird.

May you all have a plain, weird Thanksgiving, too!

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The Mother's Curse

Image by mollypop via Flickr
I was talking with a friend of mine the other day and we were commiserating with each other over the behavior of our children (not the good behavior, though). She is a teacher, so I run many of my ideas for encouragement and discipline by her to see if they have a snowball's chance in hell in making any kind of difference.


On this particular day, her child seemed to be winning the un-official competition of "Who Can Make Their Mother Crazy First". My friend sighed. "Sometimes I think she gets paid to make me nuts."

I sympathized. "I know. There's no way they do this stuff because they think it's okay to do it. I mean, who puts a half-eaten peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich in their dirty clothes hamper for fun? I really think it's a conspiracy." Then, a thought occurred to me: "Hey, have you put 'The Mother's Curse' on her, yet?"


"What's 'The Mother's Curse'?" she asked.

I was surprised. Not only she was a mother, but she was also an educator. How could she have missed this most valuable lesson in parenting? "Oh, sister, let me tell you. It's the best thing ever. But you have to save it for the perfect time."

"Well, tell me!"she laughed.


"Okay, usually you wait for that time when your child does something so completely ridiculous that you can't imagine that they got a single gene from your side of the family, and THEN they have the nerve to look surprised when you yell at them." I hear her snort on the other end, as this is a fairly regular occurrence for both of our children. "Yeah, I know. But you have to wait until it's a BIG one.... Then, you give them "The Mother's Curse," which goes like this:

       "Honey, I must say I'm sort of amazed that you're surprised by my reaction to this. But, we'll   
        talk about that later. Right now, I just want to say," insert smile and finish sweetly, 
      "Someday I hope you have children just like you." 


"They never really know what hit them until it's much, much too late." I finish.

Hysterical peals of laughter come through my phone. "That's awesome!" my friend laughs.
Then after she interrupts her own laughter with: "Hey, wait a minute. Do you think that's what my mother did to me?"


"No, of course not," I promise her. "This all comes from our husbands' sides of the family."

We both laugh at this.

My children have all already received "The Mother's Curse." In fact, they can almost repeat it verbatim with me now.

Even though I told my friend it was our husbands' fault, I can't help but realize that I did, indeed, receive the curse as well. But that's okay. Because "The Mother's Curse" only extends to your children- not your grandchildren, as proved by my parents' relationship with my children.

So even though we're struggling through some good times and bad right now, I know that I am also rewarded by "The GrandMother's Blessing." What is "The GrandMother's Blessing," you ask?

It goes like this: "May you have more good times than bad with your children. May you hold the blessings in your heart, and may your heartaches fade with the setting sun. And, may you, after your children have moved on to the next phase of their lives, enjoy the greatest gift of all: grandchildren."


So, I wish you all "The GrandMother's Blessing," and lots of coping mechanisms, friends and laughter until you get there.


Have a great day!

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Who's the Baddest?

 Tigger hanging out

 

Dixie begging

 

It is only human to compare ourselves to others. Sometimes comparisons can inspire us to do better. But sometimes comparisons make us feel better about ourselves. And sometimes, comparisons make us feel better about someone else.


Such is the case with my dear children. No matter how aggravating they may ever be, there are members of our family who consistently exceed the children's ability to make me want to punt them to the curb: our pets.



We have the most precious little dog you have ever seen. She is all of six pounds fully grown. Dixie is a mixture of Maltese and Shih Tzu who thinks she is a Great Dane. She barks and carries on like she's going to eat you. But in truth, she could only graze your ankles.


Then there's our sweet kitty, Tigger. He is a medium-haired orange Tabby. He has the softest fur ever, and is the most affectionate cat I have ever seen in my life. He absolutely craves attention and will literally try to climb you to get you to pet him.


They sound great, don't they?

Well, they are. Except...


The cat is the poster child for all cats when it comes to curiosity. He sticks his nose into absolutely everything. And since he likes people so much, there isn't much he's afraid of. Add to that the fact that he loves, loves, loves to push things off of high places to watch them fall. (Like a baby with the "Oopsie" game who loves to watch things drop to the floor- just so you'll pick them up.) He doesn't care if you pick them up, though. He just loves to watch them splat on the floor and make noise.

The salt shaker isn't bad. And pencils roll off the table nicely for him, but cause little actual damage once they hit the floor. However, cups of milk or juice left at the breakfast table are sure to be puddles of yuck by the time we get home. And honey bottles whose tops open when they hit the floor are gooey, globby messes to clean up.


But the cat is the better of the two.

Dixie loves the great outdoors. In fact, we have had to erect a virtual fortress in our back yard to keep her from escaping and running amok in the neighborhood. Now that we have the yard secure, she simply runs to her favorite places in the fence to scramble through and looks surprised when she can't get out. Every time. (Not a brilliant dog.)


My absolute, all-time, most maddening thing about any member of my household is that my little six-pound ball of fur refuses to go to the bathroom outside. I could leave her out all day long, and she would patiently hold it- until she got inside. There she would go to her favorite little spots and relieve herself, as she does every single day.

We finally ripped up the carpet and stained the concrete floor so that it would be easier to clean up & sanitize. But it is just gross.


Even the most devout animal lover will agree that daily "accidents" in the house make it hard to "adore" her. We have taken her to the vet, who informed us she had no physical reason for doing this. She also said we were doing everything she could think of to help Dixie unlearn this awful habit. But, she concluded, Dixie does not score very high in the IQ department, and maybe, just maybe, Dixie is a little "slow."

I would question the good doctor, except that I have witnessed Dixie do other things that qualify her as a "special" dog. For example, it took her at least a month to realize there was a glass door attached to our front door. We would open the main door, and the poor thing would run, gathering steam as she went, to try one of her famous escapes- only to be stopped quite suddenly and decidedly by the clear glass pane. She would wear a truly confused expression as she wandered over to lick her proverbial wounds.


That is not the worst or the grossest of poor Dixie's habits. But for the sake of discretion, I will leave it at this.

There are days- in fact, usually many times in any given day- that I would gladly trade my animals for a nickle. But I love them, so that just will not do.


And the kids love them. They love to play with them and pet them. (Even though they would rather eat pet food than feed them, walk them, or clean up after them.) And, ultimately, no matter how awful the kids are being- the pets are always worse- in their own little animal ways.


So when I say, "Kids, you are making mommy have a headache," the kids can (and do) reply, "Yeah, but Tigger knocked over a whole glass of milk, and Dixie peed on the floor again." Suddenly my headache compounds. But the kids are in much better favor once again.

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Hope Over Shadows Angst

Image by cobalt123 via FlickrWhen I was in school, no matter how good things were between me and my friends, I always had this nagging doubt in the back of my mind: You are not good enough.

I had believed that it was a personal flaw that I had, miraculously, overcome in my adult years. And I wanted it to be something that never, ever touched my children.

My children are now tweens and teens themselves. And they are the age I was when my angst ran amock. And yet, they seem to be handling it okay.

From the outside in, I hold my breath when I feel they are being slighted; they simply shrug it off and move on. I haven't told them anything that my parents didn't tell me. But the defective gene that made me feel unworthy seems to have not been passed on to my kids.

I pray they and their psyches will continue to be happy and healthy. I want them to know that they are loved and valued. And I hope they are able to pass that acceptance on to their friends and peers.

One of the best things that could ever come out of me overcoming my sadness, would be the beginning of the all-together end of that sadness and angst for all children, tweens and teens.

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Tremendous Teens

When you become pregnant, there are a zillion resources for new parents: magazines, doctors, support groups, online chat groups, etc. And about eighty percent of the resources talk about the "heaven-sent little angel" as being the most wonderful miracle in your life. About twenty percent talk about the things that can go wrong. Less than one percent talk about the experience as being "bad" or "negative."

As the kids move from baby to toddler, toddler to child, then from child to tween, you'll find the same thing, but with the ratios of "good" to "bad" moving ever-steadily to about seventy-five/twenty-five. By the time we have tweens, the media has honed in to the fact that this group has more disposable income, so they have Hannah Montanna, the Jonas Brothers and all sorts of other Disney & Nickelodian characters and their media-driven products, at the ready. There are a few resources around for parents, but considerably less.

Then we hit the "Terrible Teen" years. Suddenly, the media can say nothing positive at all.  Headlines always include "troubled" in front of "teen." All the magazines, movies and propaganda are about Teen Sex, Teen Bullying, Teen Drug Use, Teen Cliques and Teen Suicides. And there are little to no resources available for parents that don't involve a parole officer and/or therapy.

I know that teenagers suddenly morph from this baby/child we have cared for and loved- into an alien that is unfamiliar to us. And sometimes those changes are not changes we can endorse or approve. But the teen aged years are also a time when a person begins to sort out who they are. And the years begin anywhere as early as pre-teen (like six in the case of one of my children) to way into the twenties for some.

But they are still our children. They still want our love and approval more than anything else in the world (even if they deny it). And they still need and desire rules (whether they admit to it or not).

The media would have us believe that these teens want to raise themselves with unlimited money and unlimited freedom. But that is simply not true. Rules, love and affection make us all feel safe. And if we can show teenagers how to live and love in a healthy way, they will feel secure enough to realize that drugs to make you "feel" happy don't make you really happy; They will realize that you can have healthy physical affection that doesn't involve sex; And, they will be able to be "normal."

Now, as with anything, "stuff happens." Good kids do bad things. But it just bugs me that when a teenager does a good thing it's totally unnoticed or considered completely out of character.

I'm planning to have fun with my kids as teenagers. I will treat them with respect, since that's how I would like to be treated. I will enforce rules. I will entrust them with responsibility a little at a time so that they can earn it. And if they prove irresponsible with something, I'll retract that privilege until they find a way to earn it again.

I look forward to watching them work through what they are learning, to form their own beliefs and opinions. After all, I'm raising people, not clones or robots. I plan to look at them as special people in the next phase of their lives- not "troubled teens".

Will there be bumps in the road? You betcha'. Will I eat these words? Oh, but of course. But I will also come back to these words, again and again. I don't plan on having "troubled teens"- no matter what the media and/or the world might say. I plan on having "tremendous teens"! That is one of the best gifts my parents gave me. And I believe it's definitely a gift worth passing on- no matter what the world may say to the contrary!

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