My son was feeling under the weather on Tuesday night, and then woke up with a cold yesterday morning. Now the girls seem to be following suit. No one seemed alert and focused enough to get much done for school, so I gave in and gave them some time off. Within minutes, they were all passed out, and now here I am, the only one up. Sleepy, but up, and sipping some Yerba mate. Sitting at the computer on a quiet afternoon, has inevitably led to some reflection.
I tend to be emotionally reserved in public, and I’m not the sort to go on about how awesome my kids are (at least not regularly), or how much I love them, but there’s just something about these quiet moments that get me all sentimental and gushy. I cannot claim to even fathom why God chose to bless us with such great kids, except that maybe He wanted to teach me a lesson. I never considered myself particularly maternal. I liked kids in general, and of course I loved my niece and nephews, but I was worried that wasn't enough to qualify myself as maternal. When I got pregnant with E, I immediately worried that my “lukewarmness” would make me poorly suited to parent. Could I even love my child enough? Seriously, these were the sorts of things I worried about. Shortly after E’s birth, I soon found that despite what I regarded as “lukewarmness,” I surely did manage to love her, albeit in almost a suffocating way. My love for her was all jumbled up with fear and paranoia should anything ever happen to her. It never occurred to me that that would happen. Never in my wildest dreams did I sit and reflect on how worry would consume my life, as it did just moments after her birth. I had always been a “live and let live” sort of person, feeling that people had a right to their own decisions, and I was comfortable with that. Yet there I was, having to make huge decisions for someone else, and without her consent. At times I felt crippled by doubt. Would she come to hate me for the choices I made on her behalf? After a while, we fell into a routine, and she gradually taught me to parent. And just when we had gotten into a groove, her sister came along. And she was and continues to be a whole new ball of wax. What was right for E, was seldom right for S. And so I continued to learn, taking a few missteps here and there. Then came F, my only son. Another learning curve.
It’s been a few years, and I still worry sometimes whether I’m a good enough Mom. But despite my misgivings, the lesson I have learned is this: I didn’t have to be a perfect parent to produce great kids. What a relief to know that good, no great, can come out of even what’s flawed! And permit me to gush here. I have GREAT kids. They’re kind, polite, thoughtful, curious, talented, empathetic, loving, funny, and always interesting. They greet me every morning with a warm smile and a hug, and nearly every night they gather around me to just “chat some more” before bed. Things could be not so rosy sometimes, but one hug from them makes all of the ugly stuff disappear. Yes, really. And no, of course they’re not immune to having bad days, but thankfully these are fleeting. I’m very grateful, and very blessed.
I may not say it often enough for all to hear, but I love you, E, S, and F! To the moon and back, and then some.
Showing posts with label Parenting Anecdotal Stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parenting Anecdotal Stuff. Show all posts
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
Allowing Kids to Struggle
Recently, a quote attributed to Robert Heinlein has been making the rounds on Facebook.
“Do not handicap your children by making their lives easy.” ~Robert A. Heinlein
I immediately agreed with the sentiment, and passed it along, sharing it with my friends. Unsurprisingly, several moms seemed to appreciate those words as well.
When I read the quote, I took it as meaning that it is okay to step back—in fact, that we should step back, and allow our children to struggle through things. That such a thing would help them develop feelings of self-worth and would make them better equipped to handle the struggles they would likely encounter in “real life.” I believed that it meant that by doing so, children would become more resilient and capable adults. When I considered “struggles,” I thought more about life skills, like the ability to keep house, make a meal, do laundry, handle interpersonal conflicts, tie their own shoes, and sort out their own problems (within reason).
It hadn’t occurred to me that others would use this quote to justify spanking, or as proof positive that children today have an elevated sense of entitlement. I noticed how some discussions sparked by this quote would degenerate into children bash fests, claiming that kids today don’t know how easy they have it. That kids today feel they are entitled to things like designer clothes and the latest greatest technology. I admit to being shocked by this interpretation because come on, really? Am I to believe that living without a cell phone or a Juicy Couture shirt is a struggle, or a sacrifice? If a child feels that such a thing is a necessity, it’s because, and I’m going out on a limb here, the parents have probably given in to their every whim before, and hence they’ve gotten used to getting all they’ve ever wanted from the get go.
But please, living without material things is hardly a struggle, or a sacrifice. One can argue that living without such things can be inconvenient, but it is not an inconvenience of monumental proportions. What is a struggle is learning right from wrong, making mistakes and learning to deal with the consequences, going without not just what you desire, but at times even what you need. Struggling is not knowing what to do, but having the wherewithal to persist, amidst repeated failures and even the fear of embarrassment.
It always bothers me when children are viewed as entitled brats. If they are, it is seldom their fault. But to judge them across the board bugs me in a huge way. Children are some of the most empathetic, unselfish people I know. They are also among the least jaded and the most humble. They are capable of identifying injustice better than many adults out there, and often have a wonderful positive outlook as to how these injustices can be remedied.
Stepping off my soapbox now.
“Do not handicap your children by making their lives easy.” ~Robert A. Heinlein
I immediately agreed with the sentiment, and passed it along, sharing it with my friends. Unsurprisingly, several moms seemed to appreciate those words as well.
When I read the quote, I took it as meaning that it is okay to step back—in fact, that we should step back, and allow our children to struggle through things. That such a thing would help them develop feelings of self-worth and would make them better equipped to handle the struggles they would likely encounter in “real life.” I believed that it meant that by doing so, children would become more resilient and capable adults. When I considered “struggles,” I thought more about life skills, like the ability to keep house, make a meal, do laundry, handle interpersonal conflicts, tie their own shoes, and sort out their own problems (within reason).
It hadn’t occurred to me that others would use this quote to justify spanking, or as proof positive that children today have an elevated sense of entitlement. I noticed how some discussions sparked by this quote would degenerate into children bash fests, claiming that kids today don’t know how easy they have it. That kids today feel they are entitled to things like designer clothes and the latest greatest technology. I admit to being shocked by this interpretation because come on, really? Am I to believe that living without a cell phone or a Juicy Couture shirt is a struggle, or a sacrifice? If a child feels that such a thing is a necessity, it’s because, and I’m going out on a limb here, the parents have probably given in to their every whim before, and hence they’ve gotten used to getting all they’ve ever wanted from the get go.
But please, living without material things is hardly a struggle, or a sacrifice. One can argue that living without such things can be inconvenient, but it is not an inconvenience of monumental proportions. What is a struggle is learning right from wrong, making mistakes and learning to deal with the consequences, going without not just what you desire, but at times even what you need. Struggling is not knowing what to do, but having the wherewithal to persist, amidst repeated failures and even the fear of embarrassment.
It always bothers me when children are viewed as entitled brats. If they are, it is seldom their fault. But to judge them across the board bugs me in a huge way. Children are some of the most empathetic, unselfish people I know. They are also among the least jaded and the most humble. They are capable of identifying injustice better than many adults out there, and often have a wonderful positive outlook as to how these injustices can be remedied.
Stepping off my soapbox now.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Indecision Tango
Now that freshman year is nearly past us (well, yeah, just nearly…we’re still schooling throughout the summer months…finishing up labs, and attempting to complete our Algebra text), what to do for a career, or specifically, what to major in, has become the near-constant topic of discussion with my young teen. She went from just taking all school related things lightly, and only really “worrying” over trivial things like what to wear, or how to keep her hair pin-straight, to getting incredibly serious and kind of wound up over this one issue. Her inner voice seems to be shouting, “Just make a decision already!” It doesn’t help that her younger sister and brother seem to know exactly, or somewhat exactly, what they want to do with their lives—all subject to change of course. S wants to be an artist and she seems to have always just known this. She sometimes switches her focus, from computer animation to general illustration, but it’s all about art with her. F on the other hand, just wants to be rich. He’s set on becoming some kind of business mogul and spends most of his free time accounting for every penny he owns. He regularly contemplates how he can make his money grow—not to mention, he keeps close tabs on what everyone owes him. S tops his list of debtors, owing him a whopping $26.75! But poor E has no idea. I can’t remember E ever knowing, or being sure of what she wanted to be, other than maybe a fairy princess when she was two. I guess all other options paled in comparison for her. Actually, now that I think of it, there was a time when she showed a bit of an interest in fashion design, largely due to our watching a season of Project Runway (the season in which the oh so “fierce” Christian Siriano won). I totally ran with it. My Mom, at my prompting, bought her a fashion design game, and I bought her a fashion illustration how-to book. Soon afterwards came the purchase of a sewing machine and few how-to-sew guides for her to wade through. All remained largely unused. Obviously, it was just a passing fancy. Not a problem. We all go through it. Now, while this indecision is not uncommon at her age, as I’ve assured her countless times, it really seems to be bugging her greatly right now. So far my advice to her has been to just relax.
I know my response surprised E, as I’m not exactly the sort to relax about anything. I’m sure she’s thinking that I’m just disregarding her feelings on the matter, and making light of it all, but really, I’m not. While I do tend to stress over things way too much, often crediting my tendency for worry as my main motivator in life (Well, that and guilt. Guilt is a tremendous motivator, but it’s not exactly a healthy route to take anywhere), that’s the last thing I want for my daughter. The truth is that once upon a time, I never used to understand people who just didn’t know what they wanted to do with their lives…yes, even if they were as young as 15. I was a stickler like that. Considering this, my laid back answer to “relax” was frankly out-of-character for me, and E called me out on it. Yes, it was out-of-character for “old me.” That would be the “Me” of last week, or in all truthfulness, the “Me” of a few years ago when I was still apt to attempt doing all things “by-the-book.” Old Me (i.e. the flashcard parent I once was) would have panicked, and suggested immediate career testing, or several books on the topic as a prompt for ideas. I wouldn’t have known another way to respond. My own experience was so different. I had practically declared a major at the age of eight, after briefly entertaining, and later abandoning, the thought of becoming a veterinarian and/or zoologist at age seven. Being diagnosed with allergies to pet dander laid waste to those pipe dreams, but I quickly bounced back and settled on the dream of becoming a writer.
So it was, that from the age of eight, I was certain that I’d go to college and study English. I eventually did. And while I may not be a published author, I do still get lots of enjoyment out of writing whenever I have the time. It certainly hasn’t turned out to be a very lucrative choice for me, but I never really cared for anything else. That said, I think that I probably cared for it as much as I did because I felt I had an aptitude for language arts. It’s like a “What came first—the chicken, or the egg?” scenario. Are we drawn to certain careers or choices of major because we have an aptitude for them, or because we are just interested in the subject? Does a natural inclination for something automatically lead to our becoming interested? I know that I was also interested in topics and activities for which I had little skill, but I never would have considered those as feasible career options. The aptitude connection seemed to be it for me. But I’m sure it varies with people. I’ve met people who have shown great talent in different areas, and not care one whit about any of them. That kind of effortless talent, despite lack of interest is mind-boggling to me. I figure that if I were just disposed to be good at something, I’d just do it contentedly. But of course, that’s just me speculating. Besides, I just can’t imagine being super great at anything I feel just lukewarm about. I’d imagine that I’d be using only a small fraction of my potential, which is an amazing thing to ponder. I mean, if someone manages to be super talented even while disinterested, just imagine what they would be able to accomplish if they were able to channel all of their interest and potential into their particular area of aptitude?
So yeah, I told my daughter to relax. This whole homeschool experiment has taught me many things, including a lot about just letting go, allowing things to progress organically, and just plain RELAXING. It’s also taught me that I can be good at a number of things for which I previously thought I had no aptitude. I had a severe math-phobia when I was in school. Now that I’ve had the opportunity to teach and re-teach myself, I’ve discovered that I love it. It’s still challenging, but not in a horrible, “I’ll never get this!” kind of way. I feel I’ve become more logical, and more methodical in my thinking. I find myself doing extra math for fun, just to exercise my brain. So obviously, what you’re good at or interested in at 15, is not necessarily what you will be good at or interested in at 18 and first embarking on your journey through college, or at 38 and juggling the demands of family and adulthood. If I had to decide on a major today, I’m not so sure I’d be able to make up my mind. My interests have grown exponentially over the years, and this allows me to better identify, for the first time ever, with the legion of “undecideds” out there.
I tried to impress upon my daughter that we are constant works in progress, with evolving interests, and that it is not uncommon for several of us to succumb to long periods of indecision at various points in time. Tiger mothers all around the world would recoil at the thought, I’m sure. And then I remembered a story about one of my college roommates. I told E the story in an effort to illustrate how she’s not the first, nor the last, to face this kind of uncertainty. I may as well retell it here.
One day as our then current semester was winding up to a close, one of my college roommates approached me with a conundrum. She was just one semester shy of completing her senior year, and she had still not declared a major. This was the stuff of nightmares for Old Me. I guess she was feeling pressure from her parents and her guidance counselor to “just decide already,” so she was desperate to just pick something willy nilly. She had jotted down a list of the courses she had already taken and passed, and asked me to help her make sense of it all. We both pored over the undergraduate course handbook, and after a few hours of deliberation, I looked over at her and said, “You’re an English major.”
“I’m a what?”
Yeah, it was like a “Harry, you’re a wizard…” moment, if ever there was one. We were both surprised. For starters, I would never have pegged her for an English major. I kept thinking that she would probably be better suited for something like public relations, or communications. But the list of courses before us told a different story. She seemed to continuously gravitate towards English courses. She had counted them all as electives, and while some were not purely English courses, they still fit somewhat under the big English umbrella. After some more discussion, we found that she just needed about three more English classes to fulfill her major obligation. It was a big “a-ha” moment for the both of us. I’m embarrassed to say that for me, what I learned that day sort of cheapened my opinion of the way that English as a major was regarded at our college. I mean, some of the classes that qualified as English were just general, broad humanities courses. It occurred to me that you could have taken just a handful of literature and/or writing courses and still have met the English major requirements. While this wasn’t the case with my roommate, who had indeed taken more than a few literature courses, I wondered how many students managed to earn a B.A. in English, with barely any literature or writing courses under their belts. Now, despite the happy ending, I can’t say for certain that this was the best choice for her. I don’t even know what she’s doing now, or how declaring English as a major helped or hindered her along the way. What I do know, however, is that her interests, unbeknownst to her at the time, were clear by the choices she made.
After listening to my roommate’s story, E was still perplexed, asking questions along the lines of, “How does this apply to me?” Apparently, my former roommate’s late college career indecision and eventual epiphany moment didn’t inspire much serenity in my daughter after all. I vainly tried to assuage the situation by telling her that the way I interpreted the whole experience, had me believing that sometimes, what we are most drawn to is not always so obvious. The significance of my roommate’s propensity for choosing English-related courses time and time again went unnoticed for years. I took this as proof positive that this could be the way it is with many other people as well. We just don’t always see the big picture, or how all of our interests and aptitudes can be linked to create the perfect assortment of skills necessary to become a great librarian, lawyer, bookkeeper, healthcare worker, filmmaker, educator, etc. So for now I’m just suggesting that E look more closely at what activities and topics she finds herself regularly seeking out. The answer may be there somewhere, but it’s also entirely possible that it’s not there yet. Beyond this, I seem to be currently tapped out of ideas. I may just find myself consulting a few career books on my own to prepare for when this becomes the topic du jour again. And if pressed, I may even urge her to take a general aptitude test that lists career niches to consider. But those wouldn’t be my first options. As a mother, it is inevitable for me to see what I believe are her strengths. E is a nurturer. She really is. Everyone who has been in her presence for any significant length of time can plainly see this about her. She is incredibly empathetic and has such a beautiful spirit. I could possibly suggest careers in healthcare or social work, but that would be a bit like leading the witness. There’s a fine line, I think, between tossing out general suggestions, and full on prodding. So I’ll tread lightly. I really do favor more of an organic unfolding for this sort of thing. But I’m not sweating it for once, and I hope E learns not to either.
I know my response surprised E, as I’m not exactly the sort to relax about anything. I’m sure she’s thinking that I’m just disregarding her feelings on the matter, and making light of it all, but really, I’m not. While I do tend to stress over things way too much, often crediting my tendency for worry as my main motivator in life (Well, that and guilt. Guilt is a tremendous motivator, but it’s not exactly a healthy route to take anywhere), that’s the last thing I want for my daughter. The truth is that once upon a time, I never used to understand people who just didn’t know what they wanted to do with their lives…yes, even if they were as young as 15. I was a stickler like that. Considering this, my laid back answer to “relax” was frankly out-of-character for me, and E called me out on it. Yes, it was out-of-character for “old me.” That would be the “Me” of last week, or in all truthfulness, the “Me” of a few years ago when I was still apt to attempt doing all things “by-the-book.” Old Me (i.e. the flashcard parent I once was) would have panicked, and suggested immediate career testing, or several books on the topic as a prompt for ideas. I wouldn’t have known another way to respond. My own experience was so different. I had practically declared a major at the age of eight, after briefly entertaining, and later abandoning, the thought of becoming a veterinarian and/or zoologist at age seven. Being diagnosed with allergies to pet dander laid waste to those pipe dreams, but I quickly bounced back and settled on the dream of becoming a writer.
So it was, that from the age of eight, I was certain that I’d go to college and study English. I eventually did. And while I may not be a published author, I do still get lots of enjoyment out of writing whenever I have the time. It certainly hasn’t turned out to be a very lucrative choice for me, but I never really cared for anything else. That said, I think that I probably cared for it as much as I did because I felt I had an aptitude for language arts. It’s like a “What came first—the chicken, or the egg?” scenario. Are we drawn to certain careers or choices of major because we have an aptitude for them, or because we are just interested in the subject? Does a natural inclination for something automatically lead to our becoming interested? I know that I was also interested in topics and activities for which I had little skill, but I never would have considered those as feasible career options. The aptitude connection seemed to be it for me. But I’m sure it varies with people. I’ve met people who have shown great talent in different areas, and not care one whit about any of them. That kind of effortless talent, despite lack of interest is mind-boggling to me. I figure that if I were just disposed to be good at something, I’d just do it contentedly. But of course, that’s just me speculating. Besides, I just can’t imagine being super great at anything I feel just lukewarm about. I’d imagine that I’d be using only a small fraction of my potential, which is an amazing thing to ponder. I mean, if someone manages to be super talented even while disinterested, just imagine what they would be able to accomplish if they were able to channel all of their interest and potential into their particular area of aptitude?
So yeah, I told my daughter to relax. This whole homeschool experiment has taught me many things, including a lot about just letting go, allowing things to progress organically, and just plain RELAXING. It’s also taught me that I can be good at a number of things for which I previously thought I had no aptitude. I had a severe math-phobia when I was in school. Now that I’ve had the opportunity to teach and re-teach myself, I’ve discovered that I love it. It’s still challenging, but not in a horrible, “I’ll never get this!” kind of way. I feel I’ve become more logical, and more methodical in my thinking. I find myself doing extra math for fun, just to exercise my brain. So obviously, what you’re good at or interested in at 15, is not necessarily what you will be good at or interested in at 18 and first embarking on your journey through college, or at 38 and juggling the demands of family and adulthood. If I had to decide on a major today, I’m not so sure I’d be able to make up my mind. My interests have grown exponentially over the years, and this allows me to better identify, for the first time ever, with the legion of “undecideds” out there.
I tried to impress upon my daughter that we are constant works in progress, with evolving interests, and that it is not uncommon for several of us to succumb to long periods of indecision at various points in time. Tiger mothers all around the world would recoil at the thought, I’m sure. And then I remembered a story about one of my college roommates. I told E the story in an effort to illustrate how she’s not the first, nor the last, to face this kind of uncertainty. I may as well retell it here.
One day as our then current semester was winding up to a close, one of my college roommates approached me with a conundrum. She was just one semester shy of completing her senior year, and she had still not declared a major. This was the stuff of nightmares for Old Me. I guess she was feeling pressure from her parents and her guidance counselor to “just decide already,” so she was desperate to just pick something willy nilly. She had jotted down a list of the courses she had already taken and passed, and asked me to help her make sense of it all. We both pored over the undergraduate course handbook, and after a few hours of deliberation, I looked over at her and said, “You’re an English major.”
“I’m a what?”
Yeah, it was like a “Harry, you’re a wizard…” moment, if ever there was one. We were both surprised. For starters, I would never have pegged her for an English major. I kept thinking that she would probably be better suited for something like public relations, or communications. But the list of courses before us told a different story. She seemed to continuously gravitate towards English courses. She had counted them all as electives, and while some were not purely English courses, they still fit somewhat under the big English umbrella. After some more discussion, we found that she just needed about three more English classes to fulfill her major obligation. It was a big “a-ha” moment for the both of us. I’m embarrassed to say that for me, what I learned that day sort of cheapened my opinion of the way that English as a major was regarded at our college. I mean, some of the classes that qualified as English were just general, broad humanities courses. It occurred to me that you could have taken just a handful of literature and/or writing courses and still have met the English major requirements. While this wasn’t the case with my roommate, who had indeed taken more than a few literature courses, I wondered how many students managed to earn a B.A. in English, with barely any literature or writing courses under their belts. Now, despite the happy ending, I can’t say for certain that this was the best choice for her. I don’t even know what she’s doing now, or how declaring English as a major helped or hindered her along the way. What I do know, however, is that her interests, unbeknownst to her at the time, were clear by the choices she made.
After listening to my roommate’s story, E was still perplexed, asking questions along the lines of, “How does this apply to me?” Apparently, my former roommate’s late college career indecision and eventual epiphany moment didn’t inspire much serenity in my daughter after all. I vainly tried to assuage the situation by telling her that the way I interpreted the whole experience, had me believing that sometimes, what we are most drawn to is not always so obvious. The significance of my roommate’s propensity for choosing English-related courses time and time again went unnoticed for years. I took this as proof positive that this could be the way it is with many other people as well. We just don’t always see the big picture, or how all of our interests and aptitudes can be linked to create the perfect assortment of skills necessary to become a great librarian, lawyer, bookkeeper, healthcare worker, filmmaker, educator, etc. So for now I’m just suggesting that E look more closely at what activities and topics she finds herself regularly seeking out. The answer may be there somewhere, but it’s also entirely possible that it’s not there yet. Beyond this, I seem to be currently tapped out of ideas. I may just find myself consulting a few career books on my own to prepare for when this becomes the topic du jour again. And if pressed, I may even urge her to take a general aptitude test that lists career niches to consider. But those wouldn’t be my first options. As a mother, it is inevitable for me to see what I believe are her strengths. E is a nurturer. She really is. Everyone who has been in her presence for any significant length of time can plainly see this about her. She is incredibly empathetic and has such a beautiful spirit. I could possibly suggest careers in healthcare or social work, but that would be a bit like leading the witness. There’s a fine line, I think, between tossing out general suggestions, and full on prodding. So I’ll tread lightly. I really do favor more of an organic unfolding for this sort of thing. But I’m not sweating it for once, and I hope E learns not to either.
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