We're raising scouts in our house. I was a Girl Scout in elementary school and enjoyed the meetings and the friends and the activities. My older daughter asked to be a Daisy scout as soon as she heard talk of it at school her 1st grade year. Daisy scouts usually start in Kindergarten but there were no troops forming when M was in Kindergarten.
My son started asking about Boy Scouts shortly after M started attending Daisy scout meetings. He wanted to know if there was a group like that for boys.
When your kids want to be a part of something that will foster qualities you want your kids to develop, it's hard to say no, so we make every effort to attend all the activities the Brownies and Tiger Scouts set up.
My daughter has, through scouting, toured a water-reclamation plant and a bakery, helped clean up her school, watched a women's basketball game and a baseball game, and she's learned countless lessons on how to relate to the world around her.
My son is new to scouting, but already has participated in a food drive (which my other kids also participated in) and toured or watched video tours about places like a newspaper or a truck manufacturer. He helped make a cake and bought another boy's cake in an auction to raise money for the church where his meetings are held. He's learned that the effort put forth to try to sell popcorn and reaped the benefits of that effort. (For him? Earning a marshmallow crossbow shooter.)
But besides all of these experiences I see my kids gaining confidence and camaraderie. I see my kids earn new ranks, new badges, new try-its or whatever the cloth mementoes are called but the mementoes are irrelevant. It's the pride I see when they are recognized for their efforts that makes me want to continue. They accomplish and are proud of those accomplishments.
As they should be.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Monday, February 21, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Evolution
When we moved to Rochester, we were young and didn't have kids. We spent evenings with our friends who didn't have kids, playing video games, or went out for dinner. We were the first of our friends to get pregnant and things changed. It wasn't that we weren't invited to go out or didn't play video games, but the vibe changed. We changed.
We had this desperate need to have a house. Okay, I had this need - call it nesting - and we bought a house. We became "responsible" and stuff...little did we know that we were, really, nothing short of naive and a dollar short. We were kids, pups, young bucks thinking we were all that at 28 and 29 having our first baby. We thought we were so prepared, so ready, so, um, grown up.
Heh.
Yeah, I know. We fell off the planet when we had kids. It wasn't that our friends weren't around or supportive, but there isn't much to talk about when twenty four hours a day the mind is spinning in babybabybabybabybaby. I became a social idiot, trying desperately to fit in without talking about my new kid all the time. Who wants to know about the adorableness of spit bubbles? Who really needs to know about my struggle with pumping at work? Who needs to know how hard adjusting to having a baby is for a marriage? Who needs to know that? Really? Not my friends without kids. Then something glorious happened.
Yes, some of my friends started having kids, but really it came in this new fangled thing, this wonderful, eye opening thing:
Play dates.
Indeed, other moms wanted to throttle their kids sometimes (figuratively, people, relax). Other moms DID want to talk about the pressures of parenting and pumping. Other moms did understand the cuteness of spit bubbles and coos! It was amazing! It was eye opening It was, dare I say, life. changing. I KNOW, right? I belonged. I wasn't crazy, weird, or out of place. It was awesome.
As our boys grow older, our friendships shift and change. We have become better friends with parents of Drew's friends and have been mindful to get to know parents of his friends to make sure our values align. My friend, M, has taught me how important it is to make sure the families are a good fit. She is the queen of socializing and makes sure all the moms of our 2nd grade class feel welcomed and invited to get to know one another. I appreciate her verve and passion so much, especially as one of the moms unable to volunteer in the classroom very often. M knows what is happening in the classroom, with the kids, and around the school because of her investment in her kids. I'm lucky our boys became friends - because it brought me her friendship.
As the boys embark on sports, I'm sure more friends will come, different but the same. The nice thing is that as we meet like-minded families, our kids become fast friends and look forward to seeing all their different friends. Our lives shift and change. Our friendships ebb and flow, but what is so nice, so great, is what I learn as we continue on this crazy, fast tracked path called parenting. It isn't what the books say it will be, and there is no easy answer. But what I can say is it is easier and better with friends who are in the same place and who want to talk about it - good and bad - with love at the heart.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Peace.
In my imagination, there is a lovely, wintery, holiday-themed photo right....
HERE.
In reality, the camera, where the aforementioned holiday photo is stored, is in our car, three floors down from our roadside hotel for the night. I am in my nightie, watching my teenager fall asleep and listening to the last wimpers of protest come from my toddler as she tries to settle into her portable crib in another new place. Our family has been on the road for three days now, logging 1100 miles so far on our trek from Michigan to my hometown in Florida. We have a little over 200 more miles to go today.
It's a photo of the lovely gingerbread men we made during the weekend, the ones we brought on the road with us and have been munching on along the way.
While trying to salvage the situation, I even tried to fudge it, searching for some appropriate photo in my library already. 8000 photos, not a one fits the bill. Fudge.
I suppose it is all a reminder to me that the events of our daily lives are rarely picture-picture, but they are always worth being present for.
Happy Holidays to All. May goodness and kindness be yours, and may you pass it on to every soul you meet during this season.
HERE.
In reality, the camera, where the aforementioned holiday photo is stored, is in our car, three floors down from our roadside hotel for the night. I am in my nightie, watching my teenager fall asleep and listening to the last wimpers of protest come from my toddler as she tries to settle into her portable crib in another new place. Our family has been on the road for three days now, logging 1100 miles so far on our trek from Michigan to my hometown in Florida. We have a little over 200 more miles to go today.
It's a photo of the lovely gingerbread men we made during the weekend, the ones we brought on the road with us and have been munching on along the way.
While trying to salvage the situation, I even tried to fudge it, searching for some appropriate photo in my library already. 8000 photos, not a one fits the bill. Fudge.
I suppose it is all a reminder to me that the events of our daily lives are rarely picture-picture, but they are always worth being present for.
Happy Holidays to All. May goodness and kindness be yours, and may you pass it on to every soul you meet during this season.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Have a Wonderful Holiday Season!
From our home to yours...warmest wishes for the season.xoxo
Heather and family
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Good Grief.
Last week, I received one of those phone calls that was not unexpected but yet was still a shock: a family member, sick from cancer and in hospice care only a short time, had passed away. And so I crawled back out of bed at 10:30 p.m., and started a load of laundry, then cracked open the laptop and began sending the emails that would extricate us from our various activities and responsibilities over the weekend. And then I lay awake most of the night, staring at the ceiling, contemplating how I would tell my boys in the morning that their uncle, only a few years older than me and their dad, was gone.
I wrote about this a couple of years ago for SavvySource, when my grandfather passed away. But he was 93 years old, had been ill and fragile for years, and my kids didn't really know him that well, other than as that old guy we went to visit sometimes in the nursing home. But it's different when the person who has passed is younger.
One thing I can tell you when a situation like this comes up, is don't be afraid to talk about it with kids. Tell them what you know, and then just sit back and listen. Let them ask questions, and have simple, easy answers. Second, be in contact with teachers, neighbors, friends who may be around when your child is grieving. Kids can act out at school, fall off on homework, other things that teachers won't understand if they don't know the root cause. I had a long conversation with the counselor at my boys' elementary school, and she had some good resources, like the book Lifetimes, and Maria Shriver's book What's Heaven. Lifetimes is more about the lifecycle of nature, which is a very non-emotional approach. Shriver's book is specifically about a little girl and her mom having a conversation about her grandmother who had died, and is not only more emotional, but is based on Judeo-Christian concepts of Heaven and God.
I think the best thing I did was to tell my kids what was going to happen. That we were going to the airport, getting on a plane, and going to visit their cousins and their grandparents. That there would be two different funerals, one in a church, and one in a cemetery. That lots of people would be sad and maybe even crying. That they would meet lots of people for the first time. That it would be hard and exhausting, but that they would get to spend a lot of time playing the Wii and distracting their cousins from their sadness.
Now we are back to work, to school, to our own lives. But my oldest came home from school with a giant sympathy card that his class had made, to help him feel better. It did. Sometimes it's the little things that get you through.
I wrote about this a couple of years ago for SavvySource, when my grandfather passed away. But he was 93 years old, had been ill and fragile for years, and my kids didn't really know him that well, other than as that old guy we went to visit sometimes in the nursing home. But it's different when the person who has passed is younger.
One thing I can tell you when a situation like this comes up, is don't be afraid to talk about it with kids. Tell them what you know, and then just sit back and listen. Let them ask questions, and have simple, easy answers. Second, be in contact with teachers, neighbors, friends who may be around when your child is grieving. Kids can act out at school, fall off on homework, other things that teachers won't understand if they don't know the root cause. I had a long conversation with the counselor at my boys' elementary school, and she had some good resources, like the book Lifetimes, and Maria Shriver's book What's Heaven. Lifetimes is more about the lifecycle of nature, which is a very non-emotional approach. Shriver's book is specifically about a little girl and her mom having a conversation about her grandmother who had died, and is not only more emotional, but is based on Judeo-Christian concepts of Heaven and God.
I think the best thing I did was to tell my kids what was going to happen. That we were going to the airport, getting on a plane, and going to visit their cousins and their grandparents. That there would be two different funerals, one in a church, and one in a cemetery. That lots of people would be sad and maybe even crying. That they would meet lots of people for the first time. That it would be hard and exhausting, but that they would get to spend a lot of time playing the Wii and distracting their cousins from their sadness.
Now we are back to work, to school, to our own lives. But my oldest came home from school with a giant sympathy card that his class had made, to help him feel better. It did. Sometimes it's the little things that get you through.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Skilled
My parenting skills ebb and flow, like much of the things in my life. In one week I might fluctuate every other day between calm, in-charge Mommy and screaming, irrational Mommy. Other weeks I am on top of my game and confident. The next I will be nutty all week. Then there are days that throw it all in the mix.
My kids have to be confused by it all. Heck, I'M confused by it all. Consistency is key in discipline, relationships, maybe even in life. I'm reading and re-reading Love and Logic, (okay so I've never read the original...yet but I'm reading the early years and what to say when kids leave you speechless). The techniques work wonders for my kids if I remember to employ them.
When my kids fight (and they have been fighting often lately) in the car I've started telling them they'll need to pay me to listen to it and start naming ways they can pay me. If they argue at home, I simply leave whatever room they are arguing in. It's amazing how quickly the dispute is resolved without mom observing.
Why don't I use this stuff all the time? I suppose I need to practice more. Maybe by the time they have their own kids I'll have it down...but I doubt it.
Maybe I need one of those shock collars that some people use to prevent their dogs from barking. It could give me a jolt to remind me that yelling at my kids never works as well as being calm and confident.
My kids have to be confused by it all. Heck, I'M confused by it all. Consistency is key in discipline, relationships, maybe even in life. I'm reading and re-reading Love and Logic, (okay so I've never read the original...yet but I'm reading the early years and what to say when kids leave you speechless). The techniques work wonders for my kids if I remember to employ them.
When my kids fight (and they have been fighting often lately) in the car I've started telling them they'll need to pay me to listen to it and start naming ways they can pay me. If they argue at home, I simply leave whatever room they are arguing in. It's amazing how quickly the dispute is resolved without mom observing.
Why don't I use this stuff all the time? I suppose I need to practice more. Maybe by the time they have their own kids I'll have it down...but I doubt it.
Maybe I need one of those shock collars that some people use to prevent their dogs from barking. It could give me a jolt to remind me that yelling at my kids never works as well as being calm and confident.
Friday, October 29, 2010
happy halloween!
what will you be doing?
my bff made these for her son's class {both her daughters classes last year} they are oranges carved with strawberries and grapes inside for a fun, festive and healthy treat.
30 took her 6 hours!! {can we say wonder woman} i'm going to try to do 4 this weekend. we'll see. i'm not nearly as patient nor precise. wish me luck. do you have any fun halloween treats you make?
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Change of Plans
This is the time of week that I was going to write about a fun craft/game idea I had and implemented with my older daughter's Brownie troop but instead of having time to write that I spent the week tending to my feverish son, keeping him home from school Monday-Thursday with little hope that he will be able to attend on Friday, which incidentally is the end of the quarter. My boy needs more help with his schoolwork than my daughter does, so when he misses school it is more detrimental than it might be otherwise.
But I can't change it. He needs to stay home if he is sick. I don't appreciate when other parents send their sick kids to school so that mine might catch their illness, so I won't do it to others. It is frustrating though. I don't like seeing my kids sick and his sickness is one of those borderline sicknesses where his fever is just hovering at the low-grade end and disappears while the ibuprofen is working, returning like clockwork every 5-6 hours. So he feels great and fine for 4-5 hours at a time then crashes hard again.
His little sister doesn't understand that her usually boisterous all the time big brother doesn't feel well and that's why he is home. She wrestles him and picks at him until he's shouting at her to stop. Then she cries, confused at why he doesn't want to play. Then, an hour later he wants to play because the medicine is working. When it's nap time I know that my son is not feeling well because he consents to, and actually takes a nap. His little sister is again confused. This is a novelty that her brother is home and napping with her. She fights sleep in favor of trying to illicit her brother's giggles at her antics. Nap time has taken longer this week.
Despite the disruption to the routine we have managed to get some good cuddle time, I made some homemade soup, my two little kids have played together more than they have before (which was still quite often). My older daughter has been jealous that her brother gets to stay home and she has to go to school but I remind her that the break is coming. I also told her she could stay home if she took a nap. That clinched her desire to go to school!
I'm taking the Boy to the doctor today to see if perhaps he has an ear infection or something of the sort that would garner him some antibiotics and a prompter recovery. I almost hope that is the case just so he doesn't keep relapsing.
Besides, I bribed my kids to be good in school this quarter with a trip to the indoor water park in Owatonna, MN, and I want him to be healthy so he can enjoy his reward next week!
But I can't change it. He needs to stay home if he is sick. I don't appreciate when other parents send their sick kids to school so that mine might catch their illness, so I won't do it to others. It is frustrating though. I don't like seeing my kids sick and his sickness is one of those borderline sicknesses where his fever is just hovering at the low-grade end and disappears while the ibuprofen is working, returning like clockwork every 5-6 hours. So he feels great and fine for 4-5 hours at a time then crashes hard again.
His little sister doesn't understand that her usually boisterous all the time big brother doesn't feel well and that's why he is home. She wrestles him and picks at him until he's shouting at her to stop. Then she cries, confused at why he doesn't want to play. Then, an hour later he wants to play because the medicine is working. When it's nap time I know that my son is not feeling well because he consents to, and actually takes a nap. His little sister is again confused. This is a novelty that her brother is home and napping with her. She fights sleep in favor of trying to illicit her brother's giggles at her antics. Nap time has taken longer this week.
Despite the disruption to the routine we have managed to get some good cuddle time, I made some homemade soup, my two little kids have played together more than they have before (which was still quite often). My older daughter has been jealous that her brother gets to stay home and she has to go to school but I remind her that the break is coming. I also told her she could stay home if she took a nap. That clinched her desire to go to school!
I'm taking the Boy to the doctor today to see if perhaps he has an ear infection or something of the sort that would garner him some antibiotics and a prompter recovery. I almost hope that is the case just so he doesn't keep relapsing.
Besides, I bribed my kids to be good in school this quarter with a trip to the indoor water park in Owatonna, MN, and I want him to be healthy so he can enjoy his reward next week!
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Parenting: I think I'm doing it right, actually.
Sometimes I really wonder how damaged my kids will be when they grow up because I lost my cool at how long it takes them to make faces in the bathroom mirror before they actually brush their teeth. I joke with my friends about "well, that's why you save for therapy, Amiright? Ha ha, hee hee!"
But sometimes I worry. Like at 2am, when insomnia has made me her bitch once again, and I can't seem to shut off my brain. Well, and also because my husband made me watch Inglorious Basterds right before bed, and who wants to fall asleep after that? Not me.
Anyway. Parenting. I often worry I'm doing it totally wrong. And then every once in a while, I get a little brush with how I must be doing it pretty well, at least some of the time.
Like tonight, getting ready for bed. We spent a large portion of this holiday weekend cleaning up around the house, cutting back trees and bushes, overseeding the yard. I also spent some time indoors, doing laundry, excavating my way through to the playroom, sifting through size 6x T-shirts and shorts to be handed down or tossed, etc. The boys got into the swing of it, too, and took down old stuff from their bulletin boards in their bedrooms to make way for the piles of new stuff. Stuff I had brought from the towering stack of papers that had been living in my kitchen since school was out last May. My oldest, now ten, took down a Sports Illustrated for Kids centerfold of Alex Rodriguez and gently set it aside. He shares a birthday with ARod, but that's about the only thing they have in common. The kid doesn't even play baseball.
When my kids are adults, they may have some memories of me screaming at them, exasperated, to please put on their shoes and get in the car so we can make it to soccer practice, maybe only a few minutes late. Do you have your shinguards? A ball? A water bottle? No I don't know where your cleates are, they aren't mine, you are old enoughtokeeptrackofyourownshoes maybeifyouputthemawaywheretheyaresupposedtogoyouwouldn'thavethisproblem ohmyGodgetinthedamncar.
But I'm hoping that if they think of these things, they will think of them in between the doing, the acting, the loving and supporting and volunteering and being responsible that I've tried to display myself. I'm hoping my actions will linger longer, and louder, than my words.
But sometimes I worry. Like at 2am, when insomnia has made me her bitch once again, and I can't seem to shut off my brain. Well, and also because my husband made me watch Inglorious Basterds right before bed, and who wants to fall asleep after that? Not me.
Anyway. Parenting. I often worry I'm doing it totally wrong. And then every once in a while, I get a little brush with how I must be doing it pretty well, at least some of the time.
Like tonight, getting ready for bed. We spent a large portion of this holiday weekend cleaning up around the house, cutting back trees and bushes, overseeding the yard. I also spent some time indoors, doing laundry, excavating my way through to the playroom, sifting through size 6x T-shirts and shorts to be handed down or tossed, etc. The boys got into the swing of it, too, and took down old stuff from their bulletin boards in their bedrooms to make way for the piles of new stuff. Stuff I had brought from the towering stack of papers that had been living in my kitchen since school was out last May. My oldest, now ten, took down a Sports Illustrated for Kids centerfold of Alex Rodriguez and gently set it aside. He shares a birthday with ARod, but that's about the only thing they have in common. The kid doesn't even play baseball.
Just when I think nobody is looking, they are getting it. When I stop and pick up someone else's empty cup on the ground and put it in the trash, even though they don't look up from their DS game, they make some kind of mental note in the back of their brains, back behind How To Reload A Nerf Gun Magazine On The Fly. When I take them to Harvesters to sort apples, or I mention that I am serving lunch at a food kitchen, they are absorbing. When I walk out my front door with an extra leash and try and capture the neighbor's dog who has broken through a weak spot in the fence, they see me. When I tell them, many months ago, that we are going to donate an entire bin of toys to kids who don't have any, start sorting what you want to keep and what you are willing to part with, they understand. And they kind of enjoy it.
"Buddy," I said, "if you don't want that anymore just throw it away."
"Someone might want it. Lots of kids like Alex Rodriguez."
"I know, bud, but it's from last year, he doesn't even have those stats anymore, it's obsolete."
"Mom! I bet there are lots of poor kids who don't have any posters who look up to him and would love a poster like this. I can't just throw it away!"
When my kids are adults, they may have some memories of me screaming at them, exasperated, to please put on their shoes and get in the car so we can make it to soccer practice, maybe only a few minutes late. Do you have your shinguards? A ball? A water bottle? No I don't know where your cleates are, they aren't mine, you are old enoughtokeeptrackofyourownshoes maybeifyouputthemawaywheretheyaresupposedtogoyouwouldn'thavethisproblem ohmyGodgetinthedamncar.
But I'm hoping that if they think of these things, they will think of them in between the doing, the acting, the loving and supporting and volunteering and being responsible that I've tried to display myself. I'm hoping my actions will linger longer, and louder, than my words.
Monday, August 9, 2010
To be part of two worlds
On July 4th this year, our family was in Brazil. Our baby daughter's first trip to her other home country. July 4th was always a big holiday for my family growing up. So we were torn. How do we celebrate the biggest national holiday of the year when we are in another country, one that our family is equally connected to?
The Brazilian side of our family solved the solution by throwing a July 4th barbecue that could not be beat. Everyone worn red, white, and blue, played American music and danced, and we even put up fireworks in the evening.
And lest you think this was merely a kind gesture, Brazil lost their quarter-final game in the World Cup just two days before. Though the wound from that loss was still raw, our family jumped in head-first to celebrate our nuclear family's heritage. What they did was nothing short of sacrificial. It made us realize that our daughter can grow up and be part of two completely different worlds, just as long as she has a supportive family on both sides of the equator.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Summertime Ideas for Kids
Most of us can smell summer coming. We can't wait for the freedom and sunshine and loose schedules.
And then we get what we wished for.
Is there a parent out there who hasn't heard the bewildering, "What can we do now," or "There's nothing to do here!" of summer?
If you're struggling with kids that are bored, here are a few suggestions:
1. Let them be bored. After hectic back-to-back activities during the school year, it takes awhile for kids' brains to shift gears. Nothing to do? Watch clouds. Boring? Plant flowers? Too hard? Tough. The key is to offer a few suggestions (which will be promptly dismissed) and then let go. Given enough time, kids will find something to do--collect cool rocks, make up a game, read a book. Kids have an incredible capacity to amuse themselves, if only we give them the time and space to do it.
2. Plan a weekly outing. Break up the routine of groceries and neighborhood playdates by getting out of your comfort zone. Usually take your kids to the zoo? Fine, but try a new museum next time. Have a favorite park? Save it for the fall...find a new one to try this summer. Pick strawberries, ride go-karts, hike the dunes or in the woods. When you try something new, it gives you all a shared experience to talk about and a sense of adventure.
3. Have a party. During football-soccer-basketball-swimming-lacrosse-hockey season, it's tough to get families together. Summer can be hard, too, with people heading for the beaches. Still, there are bound to be more bodies around than during practice/game time. Include the kids, choose a theme, make it potluck so you have fun too, and be sure to invite some families you don't know that well. Expanding your social horizons to include your kids friends and their families is a great way to connect--and help your kids connect--in your community.
And then we get what we wished for.
Is there a parent out there who hasn't heard the bewildering, "What can we do now," or "There's nothing to do here!" of summer?
If you're struggling with kids that are bored, here are a few suggestions:
1. Let them be bored. After hectic back-to-back activities during the school year, it takes awhile for kids' brains to shift gears. Nothing to do? Watch clouds. Boring? Plant flowers? Too hard? Tough. The key is to offer a few suggestions (which will be promptly dismissed) and then let go. Given enough time, kids will find something to do--collect cool rocks, make up a game, read a book. Kids have an incredible capacity to amuse themselves, if only we give them the time and space to do it.
2. Plan a weekly outing. Break up the routine of groceries and neighborhood playdates by getting out of your comfort zone. Usually take your kids to the zoo? Fine, but try a new museum next time. Have a favorite park? Save it for the fall...find a new one to try this summer. Pick strawberries, ride go-karts, hike the dunes or in the woods. When you try something new, it gives you all a shared experience to talk about and a sense of adventure.
3. Have a party. During football-soccer-basketball-swimming-lacrosse-hockey season, it's tough to get families together. Summer can be hard, too, with people heading for the beaches. Still, there are bound to be more bodies around than during practice/game time. Include the kids, choose a theme, make it potluck so you have fun too, and be sure to invite some families you don't know that well. Expanding your social horizons to include your kids friends and their families is a great way to connect--and help your kids connect--in your community.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Remembering
Many of you know that my father served as a military pilot. He entered the Marine Corps before I was born and left two years after I had my first child. Like other military kids, I moved from base to base enduring more goodbye's and more new introductions than most people will experience in the course of their lifetime.
But you probably don't know that my mother's father also served in the military. He fought in the Pacific long enough to collect stories for a lifetime. I have uncles who served, too, and my husband was in the military when we were first married.
In fact, members of my family have served in the military as far back as the Revolutionary War. On Memorial Day, as we remember the men and women who have given their lives in service to our country, I am thankful that most of the men in my family returned home. I'll never forget the first time I saw the Vietnam Wall in Washington DC. The names of my father's contemporaries are engraved on that stone. They were sons, brothers, husbands, friends. I was one-year old when my father left for Vietnam. I realized, as I stood there with tears streaming down my face, that had he not returned, everything--everything--would be different. This would not be my life.
So I pause every Memorial Day and think of the men and women who gave their lives; some of their names are on that wall, where my father's is not. I silently thank them for fighting for our freedom and our rights. I tear up as I think of the ones who once waited for their return; those whose lives were inconceivably altered the moment they heard the news.
Today, as I think of them, I honor both the service and the sacrifice. And I offer a heartfelt thank you to all who have served.
But you probably don't know that my mother's father also served in the military. He fought in the Pacific long enough to collect stories for a lifetime. I have uncles who served, too, and my husband was in the military when we were first married.
In fact, members of my family have served in the military as far back as the Revolutionary War. On Memorial Day, as we remember the men and women who have given their lives in service to our country, I am thankful that most of the men in my family returned home. I'll never forget the first time I saw the Vietnam Wall in Washington DC. The names of my father's contemporaries are engraved on that stone. They were sons, brothers, husbands, friends. I was one-year old when my father left for Vietnam. I realized, as I stood there with tears streaming down my face, that had he not returned, everything--everything--would be different. This would not be my life.
So I pause every Memorial Day and think of the men and women who gave their lives; some of their names are on that wall, where my father's is not. I silently thank them for fighting for our freedom and our rights. I tear up as I think of the ones who once waited for their return; those whose lives were inconceivably altered the moment they heard the news.
Today, as I think of them, I honor both the service and the sacrifice. And I offer a heartfelt thank you to all who have served.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Fear in Parenthood
There are many things that have scared me about parenthood. The very act of choosing to create a baby, wondering how that baby would come out of my body...even how I would feed that baby.
In hindsight these things seem minor to the frightening aspects of sending those children out into the world without you by their sides.
When my first child started Kindergarten it was after spending years in an environment where I knew the parents of her friends well, knew her teachers well because they were former coworkers, and felt a lot of control over her environment. Sending her to a school where I knew few (one) of the children, none of the teachers and had zero control over her environment was a big shock.
I cried uncontrollably each day I dropped her off at school for days. I mourned our days together. Now, someone else was spending more time with my child each day than I was. This still irks me. I want my kids with me more than they are with someone else.
That aside, the fears of parenthood grow in elementary school. There is bullying. There is bullying even if there is an excellent behavior plan (and there is at my kids' school). Kids can be so mean and I think they are meaner than ever.
I think there are excellent parents out there and I think there are many, many more sub-par parents than ever out there. If you take into consideration parenting in years past, parents didn't have to worry about things like they do now. Yes, you may worry that your child will survive infancy in the past. Modern medicine has made this a slim worry. Now, though, you have to worry about drugs, guns, bullying to the point your child commits suicide in desperation, etc. And where do those bullies, gun-toters, drug dealers come from? Well, I'd guess some of them come from homes like yours and mine. Yes, I believe there are kids out there that will do wrong no matter what their parents do. But there are those kids out there whose parents propped them in a corner holding their own bottles when they were 4 months old. There are the mothers who smoked pot or did crack or whatever while they were pregnant. There are the parents who strike their kids for any impudence.
My kids are spirited. They back talk. I consider the back talk a sign that they are growing, testing, but they still know that they will be loved no matter what they say.
I hope that my children can navigate the school years without bullying, without shame, with heads head high.
I can't guarantee anything. There is the fear.
In hindsight these things seem minor to the frightening aspects of sending those children out into the world without you by their sides.
When my first child started Kindergarten it was after spending years in an environment where I knew the parents of her friends well, knew her teachers well because they were former coworkers, and felt a lot of control over her environment. Sending her to a school where I knew few (one) of the children, none of the teachers and had zero control over her environment was a big shock.
I cried uncontrollably each day I dropped her off at school for days. I mourned our days together. Now, someone else was spending more time with my child each day than I was. This still irks me. I want my kids with me more than they are with someone else.
That aside, the fears of parenthood grow in elementary school. There is bullying. There is bullying even if there is an excellent behavior plan (and there is at my kids' school). Kids can be so mean and I think they are meaner than ever.
I think there are excellent parents out there and I think there are many, many more sub-par parents than ever out there. If you take into consideration parenting in years past, parents didn't have to worry about things like they do now. Yes, you may worry that your child will survive infancy in the past. Modern medicine has made this a slim worry. Now, though, you have to worry about drugs, guns, bullying to the point your child commits suicide in desperation, etc. And where do those bullies, gun-toters, drug dealers come from? Well, I'd guess some of them come from homes like yours and mine. Yes, I believe there are kids out there that will do wrong no matter what their parents do. But there are those kids out there whose parents propped them in a corner holding their own bottles when they were 4 months old. There are the mothers who smoked pot or did crack or whatever while they were pregnant. There are the parents who strike their kids for any impudence.
My kids are spirited. They back talk. I consider the back talk a sign that they are growing, testing, but they still know that they will be loved no matter what they say.
I hope that my children can navigate the school years without bullying, without shame, with heads head high.
I can't guarantee anything. There is the fear.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Time Out
Lately my house has been mad chaos. My husband went back to work after being laid off for two months. My babies have been teething and are on the move, learning to explore things they shouldn't. All my kids have colds. The weather is cool and rainy and we've been couped up in the house. I feel someone is either crying, screaming, laughing, whining, talking or wanting something every moment from 5:07am - 6:55pm. {I guess that's what I get with having 4 kids} Not to mention this is the busiest time for me workwise.
So, I've been wanting to give myself time outs just to find a few minutes of peace. Time outs for me, not my kids. (Of course, they always find me before my time is up.)
What are your thoughts on time outs for kids that is? Do you use them? Do they work for you?
It seems in the last week I've heard a few times about time outs on 1 year olds. Really? Whatever happened to redirection? My babies will be approaching one this summer and like now, its easy to continue to redirect them. I did the same with my first two and started time outs when they turned 2.
I followed the Super Nanny approach to time outs which if executed correctly and consitently, worked wonders in my house. For the last couple years time outs are a rarity, all it takes is a warning.
So, I've been wanting to give myself time outs just to find a few minutes of peace. Time outs for me, not my kids. (Of course, they always find me before my time is up.)
What are your thoughts on time outs for kids that is? Do you use them? Do they work for you?
It seems in the last week I've heard a few times about time outs on 1 year olds. Really? Whatever happened to redirection? My babies will be approaching one this summer and like now, its easy to continue to redirect them. I did the same with my first two and started time outs when they turned 2.
I followed the Super Nanny approach to time outs which if executed correctly and consitently, worked wonders in my house. For the last couple years time outs are a rarity, all it takes is a warning.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Managing boys
Oh, Boys. Boys.
Boys.
I am so grateful to be a boy mama. They are maniacs, funny, turbulent, adorable, annoying, silly, and sweet. They are smart and yet do some of the dumbest things - like getting arms stuck in chairs or putting a variety of objects in noses and ears. They are explorers.
I teach High School, and this year I have a particular group of boys that remind me of mine. They are silly, annoying, and excessively sweet. They drive me crazy as they throw objects across the room at each other during my lunch. Yet, they respect me, my space, and my opinion. They hang out in my room because they are in need of another adult role model. They are in need of boundaries and acceptance. They are in need of a place to be and belong.
I'm honored my room is that place.
I was told by a good friend of mine that to be the place, "the place", that our children and their friends want to hang out at there are a few steps to do to ensure this.
1. stock the fridge on Fridays before school is out
2. make Fridays family night, but inclusive of friends
3. Always be in the kitchen baking or doing something right after school (while they eat)
4. don't say much and listen always
5. consistency - don't miss a Friday, even if there is a game or a dance - go to the game together and part ways for the dance.
I hope to keep these in the forefront of my mind as we continue toward adolescence at a staggering pace. In the meantime, when my silly boys need a hug, I hug them. When they ask to sit on my lap, I welcome them. When they ask for a good cry, a good prayer, a good meal, or a good laugh I make sure I am present to give it.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Photographs from the past
I've made a habit in my homes of hanging photographs of family and friends in arrangements on the walls. I've had many different homes in my adulthood, since my daughter was born. Nine, to be exact. So I've had plenty of experience pulling the pictures out and rearranging them in a new space. And my family has changed dramatically over those years. I've been married and divorced and remarried. I've had to subtly change the composition of portraits to reflect this. Like every adult, I've also had to accommodate new nieces and nephews and, in the last year, a new baby in our nuclear family. Suffice it to say, I've pulled out the photographs and the frames and mattes more times than I choose to share, tried to thoughtfully and tastefully put together a collection, and selected locations in the house to hang them together.
The truth is, the last few years have been rough waters for establishing a household. When we got married almost five years ago, my husband and I lived in two different homes in two different states. In the midst of this arrangement, when we finally got it together to have most of our stuff together in his apartment and call that our permanent address, I was commuting over 500 miles to work for a year. During this time, a few, carefully selected photographs, ones of us and my daughter, got put on the wall for a couple years. But the rest of our family pictures got stored in boxes in the basement of his apartment. We moved into our current home 18 months ago, but within a month of moving, we discovered I was pregnant. High risk pregnancy, me working fulltime, finally taking medical leave, and a teenager in her first year of high school...it all led to a stalling of the settling into our new home.
At the end of July, we lost my father-in-law. Three weeks later, our daughter was born. All the while, we were taking photographs of family.
Recently, photographs have come back into my life. I don't mean digital images that I scroll through on my computer screen. I mean real, honest-to-goodness photographs. The kind you hold in your hands. The kind you find in your desk drawer years after you forgot it was even taken. The kind you write on the back of, so you make sure that years after you forgot it was even taken, you remember the whos, whats, whens, wheres, and whys. The kind you carefully frame and place in a coveted spot, so you feel good every time you see it. You get the idea. It clearly had been a void in my life of late and I was craving a physical connection with our loved ones near and far.
It started by getting ready for my daughter's 16th birthday. Her birthday was two months ago, in February. So in December, I decided I would put together a slideshow for her and show it at the party. Since I didn't own a digital camera until she was nine, I found myself on the bedroom floor with photo boxes and albums and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of photographs lying in piles all around. I sorted and organized, and pared down my selections. Finally, after a couple days, I set to scanning all the photographs. 500 in all. When the whole project was done and we showed the collection at her party, I cried through the whole show.
Of course, sorting through the old photos looking for good ones of my oldest daughter didn't stop there. I found photographs from high school and family vacations (both from childhood and from adulthood), snapshots taken while on school field trips and over camping trips with the church youth group, bachelorette parties and wedding parties and tea parties and on and on and on. A photograph of my grandfather's orange trees that he sent to me while I was in middle school. A few of my best friend who moved away, the ones she mailed to me to show me her new hair cut. One a boyfriend took of me on a hiking trip; the expression on my face says it all.
I'll admit, it's a bit overwhelming. That saying, "a picture is worth a thousand words," I've come to have a new appreciation for that. Being confronted with a visual record of the past bombards my memories with the reality of those moments. Our memories can be flawed and sentimental. Photographs tend to shed light on those flaws and bring back to life the actual moments you'd rather forget. In the midst of this, I added the following phrase to my facebook page: "Walking down memory lane and getting in touch with your past is really not all that rewarding as people may think. Live for today, I say." It was a way to remind myself that these memories, this past, it makes me who I am today. It makes our family something unique. Really, the only thing I can take away from the past is a reminder to live every moment in the here and now, because that's all that matters.
So this week I'm off to the craft store to find frames for the last remaining photographs of our family. I'll frame them and place them on the wall in another arrangement, just in time to share with friends when they visit for an afternoon party this Thursday. I'm sure my husband and I will spend some time talking during the party, explaining, "this is my sister-in-law Ana" and "this is a childhood picture of my grandfather" and "this was taken the day my husband moved to the United States." Through it all, I have to keep in mind that this moment, the one in which I am breathing air circling around me, this is the one that matters most.
The truth is, the last few years have been rough waters for establishing a household. When we got married almost five years ago, my husband and I lived in two different homes in two different states. In the midst of this arrangement, when we finally got it together to have most of our stuff together in his apartment and call that our permanent address, I was commuting over 500 miles to work for a year. During this time, a few, carefully selected photographs, ones of us and my daughter, got put on the wall for a couple years. But the rest of our family pictures got stored in boxes in the basement of his apartment. We moved into our current home 18 months ago, but within a month of moving, we discovered I was pregnant. High risk pregnancy, me working fulltime, finally taking medical leave, and a teenager in her first year of high school...it all led to a stalling of the settling into our new home.
At the end of July, we lost my father-in-law. Three weeks later, our daughter was born. All the while, we were taking photographs of family.
Recently, photographs have come back into my life. I don't mean digital images that I scroll through on my computer screen. I mean real, honest-to-goodness photographs. The kind you hold in your hands. The kind you find in your desk drawer years after you forgot it was even taken. The kind you write on the back of, so you make sure that years after you forgot it was even taken, you remember the whos, whats, whens, wheres, and whys. The kind you carefully frame and place in a coveted spot, so you feel good every time you see it. You get the idea. It clearly had been a void in my life of late and I was craving a physical connection with our loved ones near and far.
It started by getting ready for my daughter's 16th birthday. Her birthday was two months ago, in February. So in December, I decided I would put together a slideshow for her and show it at the party. Since I didn't own a digital camera until she was nine, I found myself on the bedroom floor with photo boxes and albums and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of photographs lying in piles all around. I sorted and organized, and pared down my selections. Finally, after a couple days, I set to scanning all the photographs. 500 in all. When the whole project was done and we showed the collection at her party, I cried through the whole show.
Of course, sorting through the old photos looking for good ones of my oldest daughter didn't stop there. I found photographs from high school and family vacations (both from childhood and from adulthood), snapshots taken while on school field trips and over camping trips with the church youth group, bachelorette parties and wedding parties and tea parties and on and on and on. A photograph of my grandfather's orange trees that he sent to me while I was in middle school. A few of my best friend who moved away, the ones she mailed to me to show me her new hair cut. One a boyfriend took of me on a hiking trip; the expression on my face says it all.
I'll admit, it's a bit overwhelming. That saying, "a picture is worth a thousand words," I've come to have a new appreciation for that. Being confronted with a visual record of the past bombards my memories with the reality of those moments. Our memories can be flawed and sentimental. Photographs tend to shed light on those flaws and bring back to life the actual moments you'd rather forget. In the midst of this, I added the following phrase to my facebook page: "Walking down memory lane and getting in touch with your past is really not all that rewarding as people may think. Live for today, I say." It was a way to remind myself that these memories, this past, it makes me who I am today. It makes our family something unique. Really, the only thing I can take away from the past is a reminder to live every moment in the here and now, because that's all that matters.
So this week I'm off to the craft store to find frames for the last remaining photographs of our family. I'll frame them and place them on the wall in another arrangement, just in time to share with friends when they visit for an afternoon party this Thursday. I'm sure my husband and I will spend some time talking during the party, explaining, "this is my sister-in-law Ana" and "this is a childhood picture of my grandfather" and "this was taken the day my husband moved to the United States." Through it all, I have to keep in mind that this moment, the one in which I am breathing air circling around me, this is the one that matters most.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Challenges of Child Spacing
There are several aspects of having three children that I hadn’t considered or properly realized until recently. In my case, my two older children are just that, older.
While the spacing between my second and third children was not planned to be almost 4 years, that is how it worked out and for the most part it is working just fine. We don’t know any differently.
However, one challenge of having the third child so much younger than the other two is that as a toddler she wants to do everything her siblings do even if she physically can’t do it yet. Her siblings climb the tall slides at the parks or the indoor bounce house and D wants to join them. Nevermind that there are things just her size that she can do…it’s just not the same. Her frustration at her own size and limitations is evident in the squawks and screeches and the boneless protests of being led away from the “big kid” things.
I imagine I felt some of the same frustrations as a toddler, wanting to follow my older brother around and being just a little too small to do what I wanted. My brother is also almost 4 years older than I, like K is almost 4 years older than D.
Although the age difference is a bit challenging right now, I know that it will not always be so. By the time D turns 3 she will be running and jumping with her siblings and cousins without problem. She is close to that point already and she’s not quite two.
Before I know it, my three children will be running in a pack together, forgetting what it was like to be an only, or one of two, taking for granted that there are the three.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
While the spacing between my second and third children was not planned to be almost 4 years, that is how it worked out and for the most part it is working just fine. We don’t know any differently.
However, one challenge of having the third child so much younger than the other two is that as a toddler she wants to do everything her siblings do even if she physically can’t do it yet. Her siblings climb the tall slides at the parks or the indoor bounce house and D wants to join them. Nevermind that there are things just her size that she can do…it’s just not the same. Her frustration at her own size and limitations is evident in the squawks and screeches and the boneless protests of being led away from the “big kid” things.
I imagine I felt some of the same frustrations as a toddler, wanting to follow my older brother around and being just a little too small to do what I wanted. My brother is also almost 4 years older than I, like K is almost 4 years older than D.
Although the age difference is a bit challenging right now, I know that it will not always be so. By the time D turns 3 she will be running and jumping with her siblings and cousins without problem. She is close to that point already and she’s not quite two.
Before I know it, my three children will be running in a pack together, forgetting what it was like to be an only, or one of two, taking for granted that there are the three.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Sleepheads
In this world, you've got a lot of negative personas you can take on. You can be an airhead. Or a deadhead. The kids have even picked up on this and invented "poopyhead." Whatever. In our house, we have sleepheads.
I know what you're thinking; you're thinking, 'don't you mean sleepYhead, Heather?' Ah, no. A sleepYhead is a cute little expression to describe someone who needs a bit more rest. Sleephead is something far more permanent. Sleephead is a state of mind. It could even be considered a condition.
("Condition" is such a great euphemism for "disorder.")
It's the desire to sleep at any given time of the day, with no real reason why. No, it's not narcolepsy; you could keep from sleeping if you really were a better person, more hard-working. Sleepheads sit at work, watching the time tick away, waiting for the time they can snooze again. They dream about sleeping. They sleep in on the weekends as late as is socially acceptable, even when at Disney World, sometimes later.
We are a house full of sleepheads, from the oldest (over 40) to the youngest (less than a year old). The teenager will sleep for more than twelve hours straight if left to her own devices. The baby will cry and rub her eyes, we lay her in her crib, and she turns on her side, sucks her thumb, and sleeps sometimes for three hours in a single stretch. And me? The mother of an almost eight month old? I should be up and at 'em most hours of the day and generally sleep deprived, right?
(Oh, I'm going to hate myself later for confessing all this here.)
Well, I sleep a lot. I don't mean that in an, "I sleep when the baby sleeps" kind of way. I mean, my baby sleeps a lot, so I do too. Which I love.
She turns in about 10 or 11p each night. Then she sleeps until about 8 or 9a. Then I pull her in bed with me, nurse her, and fall asleep in the meantime. The next thing I know, it's 10:30a or so and she's looking up at me after sleeping with me another hour or so.
That's right, I can get about 10+ hours of sleep each night if I want.
I keep this a highly-guarded secret from other mothers of babies. And to make it worse, this is the second time I've done this. My older daughter slept through the night...when she was two weeks old. She slept 9-10 hours straight every night after that until she was about 6 months old. I realized after her two month visit to the pediatrician, when another mother of an infant asked about sleeping, that I should never, ever, EVER, confide in another young child's parent what my children's sleep patterns are. When I told her about my baby, she just about ripped my head off. I'm sure she was a very nice woman, she was just sleep deprived and I had no sense not to fake like I was too.
Is there a bad side to this? Well, yeah. We never can schedule anything before 10a in the morning. Seriously. Our family trying to get out the door early in the morning leads to severe duress. My older daughter is on the varsity swim team with morning practices beginning at 6a. Those are REAL killers. On those mornings, I wish we weren't such sleepheads. We have NEVER left for a road trip less than three hours after we planned to leave. And we have either missed flights or cut it way too close for comfort at the airport more times than I can count anymore. On the weekends we know that if we want to have breakfast together, we'd better not plan on the meal happening before 11a or else the meal conversation will consist of nothing more than grunts and growls. Oh, and here's a real hard one: how do you teach a kid who loves to sleep, one who's just like you, to get up when her alarm goes off and get ready for school no matter what hour of the day it is and no matter how much she wants to sleep more? We had a very difficult few years of learning that skill with my oldest. The rule is, if she misses the bus, just start walking to school. People think we're harsh parents for this rule, but we know from experience that she'll either learn now or she'll learn when she fails her college courses or she gets fired from one or two (or ten) jobs. Suffice it to say, she gets up when that alarm goes off on school days, no matter how much she adores her bed.
God save us all if someone comes into our family who's not a sleephead. Like, I'd like to have another baby, but boy, it would be tough if the baby didn't love her beauty rest. And then there's a day when my children might marry. Good luck to them. I just don't think I can handle it if family holidays begin at the crack of dawn. I like Easter egg hunts to start no earlier than 10a. Or maybe in the afternoon. That is, if we can even get out of bed in time to make it to morning mass in the first place. Mercy.
I know what you're thinking; you're thinking, 'don't you mean sleepYhead, Heather?' Ah, no. A sleepYhead is a cute little expression to describe someone who needs a bit more rest. Sleephead is something far more permanent. Sleephead is a state of mind. It could even be considered a condition.
("Condition" is such a great euphemism for "disorder.")
It's the desire to sleep at any given time of the day, with no real reason why. No, it's not narcolepsy; you could keep from sleeping if you really were a better person, more hard-working. Sleepheads sit at work, watching the time tick away, waiting for the time they can snooze again. They dream about sleeping. They sleep in on the weekends as late as is socially acceptable, even when at Disney World, sometimes later.
We are a house full of sleepheads, from the oldest (over 40) to the youngest (less than a year old). The teenager will sleep for more than twelve hours straight if left to her own devices. The baby will cry and rub her eyes, we lay her in her crib, and she turns on her side, sucks her thumb, and sleeps sometimes for three hours in a single stretch. And me? The mother of an almost eight month old? I should be up and at 'em most hours of the day and generally sleep deprived, right?
(Oh, I'm going to hate myself later for confessing all this here.)
Well, I sleep a lot. I don't mean that in an, "I sleep when the baby sleeps" kind of way. I mean, my baby sleeps a lot, so I do too. Which I love.
She turns in about 10 or 11p each night. Then she sleeps until about 8 or 9a. Then I pull her in bed with me, nurse her, and fall asleep in the meantime. The next thing I know, it's 10:30a or so and she's looking up at me after sleeping with me another hour or so.
That's right, I can get about 10+ hours of sleep each night if I want.
I keep this a highly-guarded secret from other mothers of babies. And to make it worse, this is the second time I've done this. My older daughter slept through the night...when she was two weeks old. She slept 9-10 hours straight every night after that until she was about 6 months old. I realized after her two month visit to the pediatrician, when another mother of an infant asked about sleeping, that I should never, ever, EVER, confide in another young child's parent what my children's sleep patterns are. When I told her about my baby, she just about ripped my head off. I'm sure she was a very nice woman, she was just sleep deprived and I had no sense not to fake like I was too.
Is there a bad side to this? Well, yeah. We never can schedule anything before 10a in the morning. Seriously. Our family trying to get out the door early in the morning leads to severe duress. My older daughter is on the varsity swim team with morning practices beginning at 6a. Those are REAL killers. On those mornings, I wish we weren't such sleepheads. We have NEVER left for a road trip less than three hours after we planned to leave. And we have either missed flights or cut it way too close for comfort at the airport more times than I can count anymore. On the weekends we know that if we want to have breakfast together, we'd better not plan on the meal happening before 11a or else the meal conversation will consist of nothing more than grunts and growls. Oh, and here's a real hard one: how do you teach a kid who loves to sleep, one who's just like you, to get up when her alarm goes off and get ready for school no matter what hour of the day it is and no matter how much she wants to sleep more? We had a very difficult few years of learning that skill with my oldest. The rule is, if she misses the bus, just start walking to school. People think we're harsh parents for this rule, but we know from experience that she'll either learn now or she'll learn when she fails her college courses or she gets fired from one or two (or ten) jobs. Suffice it to say, she gets up when that alarm goes off on school days, no matter how much she adores her bed.
God save us all if someone comes into our family who's not a sleephead. Like, I'd like to have another baby, but boy, it would be tough if the baby didn't love her beauty rest. And then there's a day when my children might marry. Good luck to them. I just don't think I can handle it if family holidays begin at the crack of dawn. I like Easter egg hunts to start no earlier than 10a. Or maybe in the afternoon. That is, if we can even get out of bed in time to make it to morning mass in the first place. Mercy.
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