Tag Archives: Parenting

Understanding Phases

The older boys got back from camp yesterday. I wrote last week about how excited I was to clean their room… it’s still halfway decent. Of course when I found the completely molded banana at the bottom of their trash can, that helped considerably. (Stinkers. They’re not supposed to have food in their bedroom.)

Anyways. Yesterday and today we’re dealing with what a friend of my affectionately calls “re-entry”. The Mercenary was pretty surly by dinnertime, and Hubby and I weren’t all that sympathetic to his plight. I believe I spent the day calling him “O Large and Slightly Grumpy One” and Hubby just laughed at the growls emanating from our child.

I insisted he look at me as I explained that what he was feeling is totally normal, that there’s always a post-camp letdown, and on top of that, he was tired. We love him and really do care about how he feels, but due to mitigating factors we weren’t really going to take him seriously.

He growled.

We laughed.

He insisted that he wasn’t tired. We laughed some more.

He was particularly upset because I served chicken for dinner. (Oh, the horrors!!). His reason was that “I had chicken every day this week at camp for lunch and dinner”. When I questioned the claim and asked whether there were other options available, suddenly the answers got a little confusing. Eventually he settled on saying that chicken had been served all those times, but no he may not have actually eaten it every meal.

“Great!!” we said. “Eat your chicken.”

Hubby had to insist that he eat. When he finally did, he cleared the plate (and by ‘plate’ I mean seven bites of chicken, two slices of tomato, and a mini-croissant) and disappeared. I found him a few minutes later, completely zonked out on his bed. He slept for a few hours before going to bed for good later on last night.

But he wasn’t tired. Noooooooo.

I wish I’d been able to have this perspective and level of calm several years ago. It used to be the case that the boys would go spend several days with grandparents, and re-entry was so difficult that I usually ended up in tears on the phone to Hubby. Now it’s easier to understand that this is just a phase, it’s temporary, and I can laugh it out or send them to bed. Either (or both) will help things get back to normal.

I wish I could have now the wisdom I will possess when they’re grown and moving on.

by AmyL

Photo graciously provided by Tambako the Jaguar, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved

Love Them Thoroughly In The Moment

Something I do when someone I love is pitching a bitch: I love them thoroughly in the moment. That is, I attune myself to my love for them, I remember what I love about them, and then I talk to them about what’s going on. – The idea here is that no matter what I’m saying, my vibe is clear: I Love You. And, under normal circumstances, the bitch-pitcher tends to relax. And if they relax, maybe they allow themselves to adjust their behavior, which makes it easier to bring things to a suitable level of coolness.

For example, if my son is losing his very mind because of a decision I’ve made concerning the amount of television he is consuming, I could just walk away. I mean, he’s yelling, punching the wall, doing everything short of lighting his hair on fire. Why not walk away? It’s safer and easier on the ears. But what does that teach him? What lesson does that impart? And where is the love?

Instead, if I am at my best, I remind myself of my deep and profound love for him. Once I’ve centered myself, focused on the love-light within my soul, I then focus on him and his deal. I tell him, “Hey, just so you know, I am kinda bummed about your situation. I feel for you, it’s a sucky situation, and I’d love to swing things your way. But you know I can’t. And now you are yelling at me, and that makes it hard for me to truly care about your feelings, which is what I want to do. Can you help me with that?” – And because I’m all full of love for him, looking him in the eye, speaking softly and with sadness, he calms right down. Now, this doesn’t work all the time, but it works often enough.

So that’s my thing, that’s my strategy. I validate what he’s going through, I communicate with love and sincerity, and I speak candidly about my feelings – no judgement, just my experience of them. And not just with my son. This works with my daughter and my wife and my friends and with the guy at the corner sweet shop. And, of course, it works with me. It makes me feel better about myself, knowing that I did my very best to give the other person every single part of my heart. Makes it a lot easier to sleep at night.

by Stu Mark

Photo graciously provided by Cali2Okie, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved

Tears And Tantrums At The World Cup

The surprisingly excellent USA team has gone home in tears. And England’s stiff upper lip is drooping badly this morning after Sunday’s ‘humiliation’. At the corner store, I heard delivery men in solemn discussion – “He couldn’t make it today… you know, in light of what happened…”

“Awww mate… bring him over to my place later.”

Even the primary school across the road is subdued. I don’t even want to think about the secondary school my older boy attends. On Wednesday, every single student there was clandestinely watching the England match: on iPhones, projected on smartboards in labs, under desks, on every computer monitor in every classroom. When England scored, the school exploded with joy and the headmaster was seen swooping from room to room to tear a strip off of guilty professors and jubilant boys. Their Wednesday win made Sunday’s trouncing only harder to bear.

French President Sarkozy holds the French loss to be an insult to his nation’s honour (quelle horreur!) and an inquest begins shortly into the English team’s disastrous failure to get a grip. Was it the Italian manager’s fault? The referees, for their bad calls? The players themselves? Newspapers scream of “Gratzie and Arrivederci!” and “…a foetid pool of disillusion and dismay!” and “Urgent Inquest…” and “…decide whether to back him or sack him…”

Sporting upsets like this can be a great springboard for a parenting moment. Apart from the obvious “You were watching in the chemistry lab WHILE doing a sensitive experiment, are you mad,” learning to lose is a skill that we are not born with and it does need to be taught. Practiced, even!

The newspaper headlines remind me of the parents who climb onto the field at kids’ sporting events, to give umpires and coaches a piece of their minds. Little Jimmy was SAFE! Ref, it’s not FAIR! Surely Frankie WON the ball-and-spoon race, the ball fell OVER the LINE! It’s not FAIR! And the kids pick up the cry: “I SHOULD have won, but she elbowed me and the teacher didn’t see!”

These moments are wonderful opportunities for us to teach our kids that it’s not always fair, that sometimes, at the last minute, we make a mistake. Maybe the coach made a bad team decision. Maybe the referee had the sun in his eye. Perhaps we, despite training and trying and wanting and pushing our hardest, fell over our shoelaces and came in last just in the crucial race.

Oh, it’s hard, I know! I remember the year that Sam was going to win the ball-and-spoon race. I was instructed to buy golf balls, and Sam spent weeks practicing. He brushed his teeth, got dressed and read books with the ball-and-spoon attached to his arm until it seemed impossible that he would ever drop it. He could toss that ball into the air and catch it effortlessly on the wooden spoon. He was the hope and dream of his House Team.

On sports day, leagues ahead of the pack, he approached the finish line and…

Dropped the ball.

How I longed to rush over there and say that the ball was over the line! How I wanted to buy him a gold medal of his own, because he deserved it! How hard it was for me, to wait for him to come over, give him a hug and say “Oh Sam, I’m so sorry!” and let it go.

Of course, he was upset. But he was allowed to accept that sometimes, disaster strikes. And hopefully, the experience will help him to be a good sportsman, and to deal with life’s other upsets… like his beloved team playing the worst English Soccer ever in World Cup history.

Flags are coming down all over the nation today as we begin to get a grip, and new ones are going up: Argentina! Germany! Brazil! Because life does go on, and we can’t be sunk into a pit of despair for long, with so much excellent soccer on!

by Nan Sheppard

Photo graciously provided by Chris Devers, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved

When The Kids Are Away….

Hubby took the older boys (age 12) off to Scout camp this morning. Now that both boys are in puberty, their bedroom smells, ummmm, terrible.

On a fascinating side note, The Mercenary is usually hyper-sensitive to smells. He’ll complain about smells that the rest of us don’t even notice. For some reason, though, his own stinky clothes don’t bother him a bit. I even had both of them sniff the basket of clothes that was so sour I had to hold my breath and they were unimpressed. It’s a mystery.

Today, though, I struck a blow for fresh air lovers everywhere. Their bedroom is completely picked up and vacuumed, all bedding has been washed, and I sprayed Febreeze on one mattress already. I’ll douse the other one tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll finish washing things, up to and including the pillows. One thing that helped tremendously was washing the ten (10!!!) socks I found in one boy’s bed. Blech.

The bedroom is already vastly improved; I’d tried opening windows to air things out over the past few weeks but was completely unsuccessful. Hopefully getting all the fabric cleaned will do the trick. It’s possible I’ll steam clean the carpets while they’re gone too.

I wonder if I should wash all their clean clothes too? Okay, maybe that’s a bit overboard.

I’m trying to get everything clean quickly so I can enjoy it before they come home and make a mess all over again. I don’t hold any illusions that they’ll keep it as nice – something about throwing clothes and blankets on the floor just seems to make them happy. Or it’s the fact that it drives me crazy. Maybe both.

Either way, I’m going to enjoy the days of peace and cleanliness, and hope that they like the clean fresh smell when they get home. I figure that will last maybe half a day, and then we’ll be back to eau de Stinky Boy.

I’m going to miss that someday, aren’t I?

by AmyL

Photo graciously provided by ambery, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved

Being Overprotective

When my kids were little, I wouldn’t let them play outside unless I was with them. We live in a small neighborhood on a secluded cul-de-saq in a relatively safe out of the way part of town, but it always made me feel better to be out there with them.

Sure, at first, they were toddlers, so it made sense for their safety. I’d never let them play outside alone when they were two years old for fear that they’d trip, fall, or accidently get into something they shouldn’t have. There is a creek that runs through our property, and it was better to be safe than sorry. When I was in the hospital after the birth of my daughter, the main story that weekend was of a child who accidently drowned in the pond on his property. We live in the country where there are a lot of ponds, streams, creeks. It gave me nightmares.

Now my son is a grade-schooler and my daughter will be entering kindergarden in the fall, and I have started to let them play out in the yard as I make dinner. I can see them out the windows of the kitchen and poke my head out to check on them every few minutes or so, mostly to give them an idea of how much time until the food is ready. But I also check for my own sanity.

The world can be a scary place, and while the bad stories tend to be the ones that make their way to the news, I figure it doesn’t hurt to be cautious. I don’t let the kids ride their bikes the mile and a half loop all the way around the neighborhood without me (yet) and to be honest, they haven’t asked to. Mostly, if they want to go exploring, they want me to be there with them to experience and share in the excitement.

I hope that my fears about things like the young boy who disappeared last week from his school don’t impact my children and their growth into independance in a negative light. My heart breaks for his parents. I cannot imagine the nightmare they are living and I hope and pray that by the time this post is up on the site, their son has returned to them, safely.

We can be too cautious, or we can be too lax. Where is the middle ground?

How do other parents reconcile this world with all of the things that place our children in jeopardy, with teaching them how to stand on their own and forge their own path? Every day I worry more. In the end, I try to go with my gut, but I know I will always come down on the side of being one of those parents who is just a little bit too overprotective. Given the stakes, I think that’s appropriate.

by Rocket Science Mom

Photo graciously provided by woodleywonderworks, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved

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