the relentless pursuit of a “good day.”

I wonder if I’ve always seen seasons in my life. Looking back, I don’t remember ever feeling anxious for certain times in my life to be over. I’ve hated a job or two and couldn’t wait for them to be over, I’ve hated a class or two and couldn’t wait for them to be over, but in the seasonal aspect of my life, I feel like I’ve always been comfortable right where I am.

I’ve been a long time true believer in the concept that “Life is a journey, not a destination.” I have a framed print in my living room with the words “Life is a journey.” on the top left corner. It’s a photo of a dad and his toddler son. The dad is painting the wall. The toddler is to his left, coloring on the newly painted wall. It was a two page Nissan magazine ad, I called a 1800 number to get a (free) copy of the print back in the 90’s and had it framed. “Life is a journey” is something I’ve believed for a very, very long time. I believe that everything I’ve experienced – the good and the bad – has led me to the person I am today.

Because I see life through this lens, I try to sincerely pay attention, and really ENGAGE in what’s happening today. I also have this overshadowing perspective that time is FLYING by. Thankfully, I haven’t experienced a personal crisis that threw me face to face with what’s important. But I have paid attention when friends have faced serious illness and death. My focus has been strengthened even more by Rachel Barkey’s testimony. I have a deep realization of what matters to me and try to make decisions based on those priorities.

One priority? My kids.

I didn’t have my son until I was 30. I had completed my education and had started working on my career. It went well. Launching my business in 1994 brought wonderful blessings, personal, professional and financial. I’ve been through some changes with regard to my work status as I do my best to stay true to my commitment to my family. As my family’s needs change, I adapt. But work is another post. This is about family.

Older women told me that the years with kids at home would fly by. We hear that so often as young mothers, covered in baby spit up and smelling like a combination of day old b.o., curdled milk, peanut butter and playdoh and we think, “yeah, yeah, yeah, I need a shower! and a nap. and some solitude.” And I really did need a shower and a nap. I desperately needed a little solitude. Sometimes I got them on the same day I needed them. Sometimes not.

But I KNEW it was true. These days are FLYING by! There’s an urgency about this time with my kids. I don’t want to waste it. I don’t want to let it slip by, while I focus on things that, in the big picture, just don’t matter. I’ve been on the other end of that kind of mothering. I fiercely don’t want that for myself or my kids. I said FIERCELY.

I get to the end of a day and really, really want to have used it well. Some days I look back and see myself saying and doing things I wish I hadn’t. But I have no patience (or time) to wallow in regret. I just tell my kids I was wrong and I’m sorry. Then I start over and try again the next day. Sometimes I don’t even wait for the day to end before I start over. Sometimes I catch myself in the middle of the day and change gears right then. But no matter what I say and do in my effort to achieve “a good day” there’s always been one underlying foundation. I feel like I’ve always done it, but it took a conversation with a client a few years ago to make me conscious of it.

The kids were little. FavoriteSon was 7 and PinkGirl was 18 months old. I remember because I was working at a client site during a firm wide computer upgrade in the summer of 2002. I was with another contractor, in an attorney’s office and the contractor asked: “Mr. W, how did you get such great kids?” Mr. W thought quietly for a few seconds and said:

“Well, you know, I’ve always respected them, no matter how old they were. I’ve always been interested in what they think and how they feel. I’m interested in what interests them. I just really enjoy spending time with them, whether we’re doing some activity together or just hanging out. I think they’re really great people.”

As I listened to Mr. W, I suddenly understood why I cared that a Charmander evolved into a Charmeleon and then into a Charizard. Because FavoriteSon cared. I knew why I actually spent a Friday night reading the entire Official Pokemon Manual to determine whether I would allow FavoriteSon to get into the Pokemon phenomenon. (My favorite Pokemon is a Jigglypuff. When they sing, they put you to sleep and then draw all over your face. Yes. I have a favorite Pokemon.) It’s why I watch every TV show my kids like. (They don’t watch that many shows.) We have a lot to talk about when I watch their TV shows. Learning opportunities abound. I listen to their music. I make FavoriteSon Google song lyrics for our approval before he’s allowed to download music. I made FavoriteSon “friend” me on Facebook.

I want to know anything they want to tell me. Because, someday – someday sooner than I would like – they aren’t going to tell me so much.

So in the middle of all this, I try to make the everyday a “good day.” Sure there’s the dishwasher to load and unload – again. And the laundry – with the man stank of football season. And the bathroom floor, the cat hair on the stairs, kicking a path through toys in PinkGirl’s room, the homework, the kid chauffeuring, the kid bickering, the lunch packing, and whatever that smell is in my van. I tire of this list. You get the idea.

But the thing is, this is life. This stuff happens. E V E R Y day. I can’t stop it. But when it does stop, it will be OVER. And I believe older women when they tell me they remember it as a GOOD time in their life, some even say it was the BEST time in their life. In that frame of reference, this time is so short!

I am COMPELLED to make “good days” in the middle of this fast paced, ever changing thing I call my life. It is so funny how the kids, when asked about what they remember about their past, come up with the simplest of things. Dragging the kitchen table into the family room and covering it with blankets to make a tent in front of the TV. Sending in bowls of popcorn. Leaving the table there for hours because I really had no compelling reason to put it back. Knowing as I handed the popcorn through the blankets that there would be vacuuming in my future.

I’ve spent this regular ol’ Monday afternoon with my daughter while FavoriteSon was at football practice. She and I picked him up, greeting him with a cold Gatorade. I started this post while she was doing her homework and now, as I finish it up and FavoriteSon is in the shower, I hear my husband and daughter in the next room. She’s cracking up. He’s blowing a raspberry on her belly. It’s a school night and there are still lunches to pack, clothes to lay out, showers to finish and prayers to say. Homework is done, dinner is done, the kitchen is trashed. Again. Monday night football for FavoriteSon and FirstHusband. Reading for PinkGirl and myself.

It was a good day.

WFMW: office chairs at the kitchen table.

We’ve made a big change here at Casa Aqua (the name Casa Aqua is a long story. Suffice it to say we are no strangers to dehumidifiers and industrial carpet fans). We ditched our straight backed wooden slat chairs (as comfy as they were) and have purchased four office desk chairs for our kitchen table. Take a look:

Last year we experienced a shift in homework time-continuum as FavoriteSon tried different locations to complete his homework. Neither of my kids likes to be isolated during homework time. Neither of them want a desk in their room to do said homework. I’m sure it’s because they just can’t bear to be apart from me.

(convincing and heartfelt pause)

Bwahahahaha!!!

But seriously, this is a good thing. Because they both tend to “daydream” (code word for mild ADD) and I find myself asking “Are you distracted?” “Whatcha doing?” and “Status report, please.” when I see them doing anything BUT homework.

By the end of last year, FavoriteSon’s homework location of choice was MY reading spot:

Reading Spot

He complained that the chairs at both our kitchen table and our dining table made his back hurt. I couldn’t disagree with him. So, we sometimes let him do his homework while sitting here. By the end of these evenings, he was sprawled across the loveseat, eyes drooping, pretty much useless. We would send him to bed and wake him up early to finish in the morning. On the days we forced him to sit at a table, the whining was frequent and escalating, extending the time he spent doing the homework in the chairs of pain. (physical pain for him, a whole NUTHER kind of pain for us.)

This year, we had a plan. We took the kids to Staples and Office Depot to pick out chairs. FavoriteSon settled right into a $90 chair. A little steep, but we agreed with the condition that he N E V E R complain about the seating for homework again. And that he MUST A L W A Y S sit at the kitchen table to do his homework.

PinkGirl kept picking out cushy velour chairs FirstHusband and I vetoed every one, envisioning a daily task of removing crusty food from an increasingly hard and stained surface. ewww.

We finally found a $70 chair for her that was COMPLETELY adjustable. The seat goes up and down and tilts forward and backward. The back goes forward and backward as well as up and down. The entire chair moves up and down. And the arms are adjustable.

Of course, it didn’t match FavoriteSon’s chair. And while I’m not opposed to the quirkiness of this “office chairs in the kitchen” idea, I DO have some sense of aesthetics (aka decorating), so we opted to get two and two. FavoriteSon and I have the same chair and FirstHusband and PinkGirl have the same chair. (So what do you think? Do I need a more contemporary table now? I can’t decide.)

Two evenings of homework and so far, so good.

And yes. I am sure I see scratches on the floor already. But I do not care. This floor has had “character” for years now. When my kids are grown and have moved out, I will have a beautiful kitchen floor. But in the words Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen): “It is not THIS day!”

And I’m okay with that. This works for me – and my family.

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Find more ideas over at Works for Me Wednesday, hosted by Kristen at We Are THAT Family. MY previous Works for Me Wednesday posts are HERE.

Works for Me Wednesday posts prior to February 2009 are archived at Rocks In My Dryer.

crispy eddie haskell.

So FavoriteSon was invited to go to the beach with a bunch of friends. This is a big deal. Going to the beach without us. Not even with an organized, supervised school or church group, but rather two vehicles full of kids and two parents/drivers.

That would be some new freedom. His dad was fine with it. I wasn’t sure. Here’s the way the conversation went:

Me: “FavoriteSon, if you want more freedom and privileges, you need to demonstrate some personal responsibility, like for your own self-care. For instance, what is one of the most important things you would need to do if you spent the day at the beach without me or your dad?”

FavoriteSon: “uhhhmmmm. Not do anything that would be displeasing to God?”

PinkGirl: “I know! I know! Wear sunscreen?”

Me, to FavoriteSon: “Your sister can go.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, I like his answer too, but seriously – what a suck up. Eight years of Christian school can sure bring out the Eddie Haskell in a kid. I would LOVE it if he spent his day at the beach thinking about how he could please God, but he would still come home crispy. I continue the questioning:

Me: “What would you look for to find out if there’s a rip tide?”

FavoriteSon:“. . . waves?”

Me: “At the lifeguard chair . . . “

FavoriteSon: “a . . . sign?”

Me: “A red flag.“

Me: “What do you do if you’re caught in a rip tide?”

FavoriteSon: ” . . . relax?”

Me: “well, okay. Then what?”

FavoriteSon: “uhhhh”

Me: “Swim parallel to shore till you get out of it.”

FavoriteSon: “I KNEW THAT!”

Me: “umm hmm”

FavoriteSon: “REALLY! I KNEW THAT!”

Me: “You are so going to drown.”

Thankfully, the plans changed and they went to Wet-N-Wild instead. Lots of lifeguards, no rip tides. Just free water wedgies. We had to shell out $45 for a ticket, but it gets him in free for the rest of the year. I have a feeling PinkGirl and I will be buying the same ticket this summer.

Anyone want to hang out at Wet-N-Wild? I like me a l a z y river. Float. Walk backwards for exercise between lifeguards. Rinse, repeat.

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Need a few more chuckles today? Check out Friday Funnies hosted by Homesteaders Heart!

If you’ve got time to hang out for a few minutes, check out what else makes me laugh: Pragmatic Compendium’s “laugh!” category.

This was dual posted at Pragmatic Commotion, my “family” blog.

7 Quick Takes: 06.01.09

Kristen emailed me to make sure I was okay and I realized I hadn’t blogged in over a week!

Over a week! What have I been doing?

I missed 7 Quick Takes Friday last week, but it just seems like a good way to catch up on a few things . . .

1. Still healing. Feeling pretty good. Still slow, but getting faster. FirstHusband and I went to Sam’s Club and Walmart together on Saturday and he said I wasn’t annoyingly slow, just a little slow. I leaned on pushed the basket a lot. I get really tired by the end of the day if I’m too active during the day. So. I’m still a bit of a wimp. Thankfully, I’m allowed in my dry sauna now, so that is a WONDERFUL THING. I LOVE my dry sauna.

I wish I could stretch. I mean REEAALLY stretch. Like a cat. When our cats stretch I want to throw things at them to make them stop. It’s not nice that they do that in front of me.

I wish I could sleep comfortably. I mean like I did before the surgery. Hunker down and sleep HARD comfortable, you know?

I wish could get a massage, but I’m still too afraid to lay on my stomach or let anyone even come close to touching my new scar. My back hurts all the time from wearing the compression binder all day. Four weeks down, two more weeks to go.

2. I’ve been reading C.S. Lewis. Really for the first time. I’ve read The Screwtape Letters, but that was over a decade ago and that was fiction. I’ve read excerpts and quotes, but this is the first time I’ve read an entire book by C.S. Lewis. My first pick? “The Problem of Pain.” I’m still working out my thoughts on the paradox of evil and suffering vs. a loving, all-powerful God. Learning a LOT. Making many handwritten notes. And a list of words I need to look up in the dictionary. Like “filial.”

3. Spending a lot of time writing in my prayer journal. About everything. Reading my Bible. Spending time sitting still and shutting up after writing/praying. Listening. Learning. Thinking.

4. Still praying and struggling with what to do about the praise team at my church. Thursday night at 7pm, I went to my first rehearsal since my surgery. The interim leader/director who originally asked me to sing with the group was out of town. By 7:25 p.m., the rehearsal still hadn’t begun. Then, the director of the rehearsal that night, a new full-time hire who plays guitar, started noodling and singing on his own. About 7:45 p.m., 45 minutes after the rehearsal was supposed to begin, we started to sing.

The sound was . . . significantly less than optimal. Rather than go over any parts or run through the songs again, the director moved on. In the end, I said I wasn’t ready to sing with the group on Sunday. Everyone assumed that I wasn’t feeling up to singing quite yet. True. In a way. I attended the traditional service on Sunday morning instead of the contemporary service, so people wouldn’t wonder why I was sitting out.

I’ll admit, I’m discouraged and confused about the direction of this service and what role, if any God wants me to take. There’s another new full-time hire scheduled to arrive next month, so the entire thing is still in transition. I’m taking it a week at a time. Today, I prayed that God would make it VERY CLEAR whether I should sing with the group this week.

5. Summer has begun and we are actually on track for the daily summer plan. The kids are reading a minimum of 30 minutes every day and they are both physically active every day (they are in the pool right now). FavoriteSon has been practicing the guitar nearly every day and PinkGirl had her most productive piano practice today. (I can’t play, but I do remember my scales, so that’s what I’m teaching her.) She hasn’t been consistent with her daily math, but I’m working on it. We’ve been pretty consistent with a 20 minute rotation of playing/working during the day. My oven timer is getting a serious work out.

6. The kids and I have all gone to the dentist for cleanings in the last week and (unfortunately) PinkGirl had her first filling today. She did GREAT. We go to a pediatric dentist and LOVE him.

7. We got a Wii! FavoriteSon, the family money hoarder has been saving his money for months and decided that he wanted to have a boy/girl birthday party in a few weeks and he wanted Wii to be one of the main activities. So he bought himself an early birthday present. Our family was ready for a Wii. My dad came over on Sunday afternoon after church and he even played. Just one more way to get the kids to be active during the day.

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Join in with your own 7 Quick Take Friday post at Conversion Diary hosted by Jennifer!

use your OUTSIDE voice!

I was reading one of the blogs I follow and this memory came flooding back.

We were at a track meet. Outside. Under a clear blue sky. The sound system blaring every time the announcer listed the race winners. Track meets last HOURS. We wait and wait and wait to watch FavoriteSon run for less than 12 seconds, then we wait and wait and wait for him to run for 26 seconds . . . It was, you know, a track meet.

PinkGirl gets bored. As I would if I were 8 years old and had to hang out at my big brother’s 3 to 4 hour track meet. So I let her play and check in with me every once in a while. Thankfully, she always finds the fun and usually makes a new friend or two. When the high jump and pole vault events are over I can usually find her on the giant landing pad with a group of kids.

This particular day, one of her classmates, who has a big sister who runs track, came to the meet. They were under the bleachers, playing. Giggling. Squealing like 8 year old girls tend to do. They were DIRECTLY beneath me and the other girl’s father.

Let me give a little background, here. The other girl, who I’ll call ChurchMouse, was invited to PinkGirl’s birthday slumber party back in November. Since I somehow have the ability to completely tune out kid noise that tends to drive other parents insane, (it’s true. I don’t know how I do it, but I do.) I let the girls get as loud as they wanted while they played. At one point, I heard a squeal/scream that penetrated even MY noise threshold and I said, “Was that CHURCHMOUSE?” I had NEVER heard that child before. You ask her a question and you have to lean in for the answer. She’s quiet. Polite. And I know why. I’ve seen her mother interact with her. Zero tolerance for . . . here’s the way I explained it to Pinkgirl:

“ChurchMouse’s mom is just more comfortable with kids who sit still and be quiet. But I need to tell you something. You are a very enthusiastic and curious girl and I don’t want you to sit still and be quiet. If you did, I would be very bored. So if you want to sing and dance, sing and dance. But if you are ever around ChurchMouse’s mom and she wants you to sit still and be quiet, please respect her and obey her while you are around her. But when you come home, don’t ever think that’s what mom and dad want you to do.”

So, back to the track meet. You know, the one OUTSIDE, with all the noise, and the girls playing under the bleachers. There’s a squeal/screech, followed by giggles. ChurchMouse’s father leans down and calls under the bleacher for ChurchMouse to “settle down.”

Settle down? At a track meet? WHY is this necessary? NOBODY on the bleachers seems to care a flip, if they even heard anything in the first place. I say NOTHING to PinkGirl. I consider the possibility that because I didn’t admonish MY daughter, he thinks my parenting is . . . lacking.

And yet, I am unmoved.

A few minutes pass. Then the girls must have overrun his noise threshold again, because he repeats the leaning “settle down” warning and ads a consequence. ChurchMouse will have to come and sit with him. Which means PinkGirl wouldn’t be able to play with her.

So I look at the dad and ask, “Would you be more comfortable if they were quiet, you big fun sucker?” (okay, I said “you big fun sucker” in my head. But hey, it made me feel better.)

He pauses. He looks at me as I walk down the bleachers toward the girls, but doesn’t follow me. At the edge of the bleachers, I see the girls and call PinkGirl over so he can’t hear me talking to her from above. I tell PinkGirl that they should probably move out from under his seat or ChurchMouse will get in trouble and have to go sit with her dad.

We’re inviting ChurchMouse over for play dates this summer and I’m going to let her use her outside voice.

Even inside.

summer already?

Yep.

One more full day of school (Tuesday) and two more half days (Wednesday and Thursday). That’s it. Then “Mayhem” is officially OVER for us!

Early!

So here, at the BEGINNING of summer are the:

GOOD THINGS:
No more crack of dawn alarm clocks!
No more struggle from bed to shower to breakfast to car every morning!
No more car line!
No more packing lunches the night before!
No more laying out clothes the night before!
No more packing backpacks the night before!
No more permission slips!
No more fundraisers!
No more check writing for this and that, and this and that.
(FirstHusband calls it the death of a thousand paper cuts.)
No more multiple trips to school in one day.
No more HOMEWORK!

Every summer, I like the kids to tackle LEARNING something. Because – if left to their own devices – they would completely VEG in front of video games and television while constantly complaining about how BORED they were. So here are:

THE PLANS:
Minimum of 1/2 hour of LEARNING every day
PinkGirl has decided to continue learning computer keyboarding and math everyday. We like online typing games. We also got our own copy of her 2nd Grade math book last summer and we are ordering our own copy of her 3rd Grade math book this summer.
FavoriteSon has decided to continue learning to play the guitar. I think he should learn something else too. Poor guy. He doesn’t know yet.

Minimum of 1/2 hour of READING every day.
PinkGirl has decided to start with her BoxCar Children books.
FavoriteSon has no preference so FirstHusband and I have picked some out for him to start:
The Case for Faith by Lee Strobel and Slaying the Dragon: How to Turn Your Small Steps to Great Feats by Michael Johnson.

Minimum of 1/2 hour of physical activity every day:
PinkGirl has the redneck pool (photo HERE), so that’s not usually an issue, except for rain.
FavoriteSon has some sports camps, but on the days he doesn’t, he has committed to strength training and basketball. I’m committed to getting back to a two minute plank before he can do one. He knows I can’t do any strength training until after June 16th, so he’s slacking.

So, learning, physical activity and reading. What else? Any ideas?

I’m thinking I might “strongly encourage” each of them to plan and cook a meal or two, or four per month. It rains every afternoon in the summer anyway, it’s not like we’ll be in the pool at that time of day.

Let’s finish up with a preview of a few GOOD things about summer being OVER:

I will be able to complete a thought.
I will be able to hear clocks tick in the solitude I will have been deprived of for nearly 3 months.

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Find more ideas over at Works for Me Wednesday, hosted by Kristen at We Are THAT Family.

Works for Me Wednesday posts prior to February 2009 are archived at Rocks In My Dryer

uncool mom. cool mom.

What I learned this week:

1. I am not a cool mom.

2. I am a cool mom. FavoriteSon was asked to move up to Varsity Track now that his middle school track season is complete. He was invited to a “track party” the night before the meet. First high school party. We knew the host parents and the coach was going to be there too, so we let him go. When I picked him up around 10pm, I didn’t go up to the door and knock like the other parents. I pulled up outside, parked the car, turned off the headlights and sent him a text message:

“I’m parked outside. Whenever you’re ready. No rush.”

Then I sat in the car and rehearsed Praise Team music for the next morning’s church service. He came out in 15 minutes. I asked him if he preferred the text message or if he would have been okay with me knocking on the door to get him.

Text message. Good to know.

3. What happens at a high school track party. The coach gives a 90 minute testimony and motivational talk. Also good to know. (Both FavoriteSon and the host parents told me.)

4. I need to wear sunscreen to the Varsity Track Meets. They are during the day on Saturdays. Middle School Track Meets are during late afternoon/evening hours.

5. I need to make sure the memory card is in the camera. Before I leave the house to go to a track meet.

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To find out what others learned this week, check out What I Learned this Week hosted by Musings of a Housewife.

Check out other cool moms at Works for Me Wednesday, hosted by Kristen at We Are THAT Family.

Works for Me Wednesday posts prior to February 2009 are archived at Rocks In My Dryer

Chicken Grape Salad

A track meet lasts for hours. HOURS. I suppose I understand. If FavoriteSon doesn’t rest between races, he tends to ralph. But what to feed a runner between races? Too much and again, ralph. Too little and they don’t perform as well. Then there’s getting him to eat something at all.

Here’s the scene: He runs a race (and wins, of course). I walk to the field with Gatorade or water. He waives me off and turns away. (Because it is NOT cool to talk to your mom at a middle school track meet.) His coach says, “Take the Gatorade, your mother knows what she’s doing.” (That’s RIGHT!)

After a few weeks of that nonsense, I explained to FavoriteSon: “When I walk out on that field and hand you a bottle of Gatorade, I’m invisible. Your friends don’t even see me. You know when they see me? When you waive me away and your coach calls you out in front of everyone.”

silence. thinking.

I continue, “Here’s what I’ll do – after a run, I’ll bring a small snack and drink to you on the field, hand it to you and walk away. No one will even notice me. Okay?

“ok.”

It worked out perfectly. After the first race, I walked out to the field, handed him half of a peeled navel orange and walked away. No eye contact necessary. Didn’t even interrupt his conversation. After his second race, I walked out with a banana and some Gatorade and he actually talked to me. I waited and took away the rest of the banana and the Gatorade bottle. I will not take that as a sign that it is now acceptable for me to interrupt him when he’s engaged in post-race conversation with his friends.

Last week, I packed us a dinner and brought an ice chest in an effort to stave off concession stand food. The big hit was the chicken salad. It takes about 5 minutes to make! The first version was canned chicken breast, drained, shredded and mixed with light mayo and white grapes, sliced in half. BIG hit! This week, I ran out of mayo and had to substitute spinach dip. LOVED it!

I don’t assemble the sandwiches before the meet because they tend to get soggy. I just bring the salad in a container (square, of course), some bread and a fork. I can assemble the sandwiches right there in the stands. Here’s my sandwich from today, using the leftover Chicken Grape Salad:

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Find great recipes and helpful kitchen tips at Kitchen Tip Tuesdays hosted by Tammy’s Recipes!

And click on over to check out the recipes at Tempt My Tummy Tuesday hosted by Lisa at Blessed With Grace

Need more? Head over to Tasty Tuesday hosted by Kim at Forever . . . Wherever!

Find more ideas over at Works for Me Wednesday, hosted by Kristen at We Are THAT Family.

Works for Me Wednesday posts prior to February 2009 are archived at Rocks In My Dryer

539 out of 200

This post, entitled 539 out of 200, was originally published on Pragmatic Commotion on February 19, 2009.

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yep. I said that right. That would be 539 text messages on a plan that allows for 200 per month. And the month wasn’t even half over.

FavoriteSon and FirstHusband went on a field trip to Washington DC last week and while the students weren’t allowed to talk to each other on their phones, they were allowed to text each other. Just for the fun of it, when they got back, I got online to check FavoriteSon’s usage.

Voice Minutes Used: 8 (and he didn’t even call his mother)
Text Messages: 539

That was February 14th and the billing cycle ends in March.

So after a little family pow wow, I got on the phone and increased his text message to 1,500 for an extra $10 per month. Back dated to include the 539 messages so he won’t have to pay 10 cents for each one over 200.

Because he’s 13. And communicating with his peers. Which he wasn’t really doing so much last year. Before the contact lenses. and the clear skin. and the cool hair. and the team sports. and he’s a good kid, who gets good grades and does his chores. most of the time. and is sweet to his baby sister. some of the time.

Besides. He’s paying for it.

The rules? We’re making them up as we go along, but so far:

1. This rule was instituted the day he got his phone: No phone in the bedroom at night.
2. We get to look at his text messages. If we ask, he allows us. (he can read mine too)
3. He promises he will not text anyone anything their parents will need to call us about.
4. No texting during homework or family meals.
5. He doesn’t forward chain texts & tells his friends to stop sending them.
6. He has to check his own minutes and self-regulate.

He is very motivated to keep these rules. He’s eligible for an upgrade.

What teenager cell phone/texting rules have worked for you?

freedom to be different.

Fathers, do not provoke or irritate or fret your children [do not be hard on them or harass them], lest they become discouraged and sullen and morose and feel inferior and frustrated. [Do not break their spirit.]
Colossians 3:21 The Amplified Bible

My daughter is a free spirit.

She sings. Loud. She sings Disney princess songs and hymns. Praise songs and jingles. She sings her own personal compositions. Sometimes they rhyme, sometimes not. Her own songs are l-o- n-g. She sings about everything. Love. Jesus. Her Heart. Disney. Sometimes she throws in a line about gross bodily functions before cracking herself up because it is SO hysterically funny. (She’s 7.) She sings in the car and doesn’t care who stares. She will climb to the top of a playground structure and sing her songs to an audience in the sky. She doesn’t care if people can hear her. She wants people to hear her.

Please don’t tell her to be quiet.

She dances. She twirls. She vogues. She bounces. She skips. She runs when and where there is open space. She swings. HIGH. She calls out “Watch me!” and wants me to take her picture. This is what happy looks like.

Please don’t tell her to sit still.

She loves to dress up. She can’t watch “Annie” without pausing the DVD player for multiple costume changes. She “invents” outfits and hairstyles. She wears prints with stripes, pink with orange and mismatched socks for “flair.” She loves lipstick and jewelry. She loves pink. Not pastel pink. PEPTO pink! BOLD pink.

Please don’t “correct” her wardrobe selections.

She loves to perform. The fireplace hearth is her stage. She wrote a play when she was in pre-kindergarten. She sat in a chair for hours on a Friday night, writing on one piece of paper after another. When it was all said and done, written on each piece of paper were the lines of each character in her play. When I typed it up for her later, she knew immediately which paper to read from next as she dictated the dialog for me. The spelling was creative, but the play was complete with a hero, a villain, a quest, and lots of songs to sing.

Please don’t tell her to “act like the other kids.”

She finds wonder in so many things. A lizard hiding in the grass. A crushed acorn. The shape of a cloud. She can’t go for a walk around the block without stopping every few feet to pick up a leaf, pet a neighbor’s cat or point out something interesting. She wants to see everything and go everywhere. And she wants to tell you all about it. Because it’s made such an imprint on her, she believes she should share it.

Please don’t make absentminded comments when she’s talking to you. She’s smart. She knows.

Don’t get me wrong. She’s not wild and undisciplined. She understands that she should whisper in a library, sit quietly attentive and respectfully listen to her teachers in class, and wear her uniform to school. She understands that sometimes she needs to follow directions instead of direct her own elaborate scripts. She knows to share and to take something she finds to lost and found. She knows that if we forget to pay for the case of soda under the grocery cart, that we are going back inside the store to make it right. She knows proper manners for the using the phone, how to handle a laptop computer and how to carry scissors. She understands that she can’t break out of line at school to chase a lizard or twirl. She knows not to run in a parking lot and to look both ways before she crosses the street. She knows to wear shorts under her skirts so no one can see “London” and that she can’t wear makeup to school and church. She even knows the only time her belly button should show in public is when she is wearing a bathing suit.

What she doesn’t know yet is that someday she may be too embarrassed to express herself “out loud” like she does now. She hasn’t spent time with “that” person. You know, the person who will try to convince her that her free and confident self-expression is inappropriate or wrong. The person who will introduce doubt and self-consciousness.

I pray that when faced with that person – that criticism – she is confident enough to stand strong and be herself. I refuse to silence her just because of what other people might think. I refuse to force her to wear what I think she should or tell her that she should only wear two braids, instead of six. I refuse to make her sit down when there’s no reason she can’t run. I refuse to squelch her spirit – just because it’s different than mine.

Sometimes it looks like she is dancing without music. She’s not. The music is in her heart. We can hear it if we just listen.

Not allowing your children to do innocent but different things is the logical outgrowth of a belief system that emphasizes the symbols of faith rather than it’s substance. This shallow religion measures success more by the image than by genuine authenticity.
Dr. Tim Kimmel
Grace Based Parenting

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This devotional, entitled “freedom to be different.” was originally posted on Pragmatic Communion on February 19, 2008. It was inspired by the book, Grace-Based Parenting by Tim Kimmel and this little girl.

mom coping strategy #1: sleep.

Tina has inspired me again. A few weeks ago, she wrote a post on a Bible study she was doing and what she gleaned from it.

“Being kind is definitely something I struggle with. Not with the rest of the world, but with my own children. I get impatient, frustrated, short-tempered and unkind. And I really SO do not want to be that mom. I am praying now for a gentle spirit. I’ve always admired women who have that….godly women that love the Lord and seem to just live and breathe Proverbs 31. Believe me, my children don’t, as a rule, arise and call me blessed.”

My daughter sure as heck doesn’t arise and call me blessed. Often, she’s a crank in the morning until after we give her some orange juice or Ovaltine and her blood sugar levels out. We OFTEN wake her up with a no-spill sippy cup in our hand. (Try it, you might be amazed at the difference in your kiddo’s morning attitude and cooperation.)

I write about my parenting strategies and my perspective, and it may seem like I’m getting it right, but I need to clarify. I fall off the “good mom” wagon all the time. I just get back on as fast as I can. AND, I used to fall off MUCH more often when my kids were home with me 24-7. AND I know some of the reasons why.

PinkGirl and I have our moments. MOST of the time, I can give her grace when she has a blood sugar dip and starts crying for no apparent reason. But sometimes, I find myself asking her, “WHY are you crying NOW?” and saying my standard, “Handle this differently” or “Solve your problem.” in a frustrated, impatient tone of voice instead of my encouraging, reminder voice. Sometimes, when she is “disagreeable,” I completely forget to calculate when she ate last and I react with what is to me, a lack of empathy and a toneless voice. What SHE sees is a mom “who doesn’t care about me when I’m upset!” (and she tells me exactly that.) Instead of responding with grace and providing her a complex carb/protein combo before continuing in a reasonable conversation with her, I react immediately and escalate the situation. The whole episode steals time and energy and peace from our day. It’s a waste. And I know it. I don’t like it. So I try to take my own advice and “Solve my problem” by “handling things differently.”

When find myself impatient or frustrated with my kids, I start by looking for the root causes so I can fix my real problem. Physiological, psychological, spiritual . . . I always start with the physiological. (I’ve got my fair share of problems, but today I’m only focusing on ONE of the the physical problems.) I do a little self-check.

• Am I tired?

• Am I hungry?

• Is my iron low because I keep forgetting to take that stupid pill?

• Am I in pain from my stupid neck/shoulder?

Until I “fix” these physical issues I can’t consistently parent intentionally or well. Unfortunately, “fixing” isn’t an instantaneous, one time thing. Often I have to make consistent changes over time to completely get RID of these problems rather than just trying to manage them. If I’m not careful, I could end up like this: (the first two minutes)

But back to fixing my (physical) problems and handling things differently. Let’s start with “tired.”

I sometimes have trouble getting to sleep. Sometimes I don’t get enough sleep. So I’ve made a few changes:

• First, I now take Ambien when I need it. Not every day – only when I can’t get to sleep. I started with Tylenol PM. One was too much. Half was just enough. When both my GP and my GYN heard I was taking it, they both suggested Ambien instead. I started with 10mg control release. Too much. I need to wake up when a kid needs me. Then I went with the regular 10mg. Too much. Drowsy the next morning. I now take 5mg.

• I also intentionally GO TO BED earlier. Sometimes (not often) as early as 10:00 p.m. I’m a night owl. Sometimes I’m not sleepy at 10:00 p.m. If I can’t get to sleep, I take some Ambien. My goal is to go to bed the same day I wake up instead of wake up the same day I go to bed.

• When I read in bed, I only read fiction. I don’t need to be learning when I’m trying to calm my mind. Even when I read a devotional, I find my brain ramping up when it should be ramping down. To make sure I don’t slip up, I don’t keep any non-fiction books in the bedroom.

• The low iron can make me weak and tired too, so I take a prescription iron supplement. (But I’m fixing that too.)

• No coffee after 1:00 p.m. or so. Enough said.

• Back when PinkGirl was a baby, I would nap when she napped. I read this over and over again when FavoriteSon was a baby and I rarely followed the advice. When PinkGirl was born, I was older, with more on my plate and more tired. I kinda had no choice.

• Sometimes it was the kid’s sleep cycles that threw a wrench in mine. When a kid won’t go to sleep or wakes up in the middle of the night, what are you going to do? Sleep anyway? Not likely. I’ll write another post on overcoming kid sleep problems. We had to do that too.

• I removed things from my “To Do” list. Some jobs get harder the longer they are delayed. Like dishes and laundry. But some jobs take the same amount of time and effort each time you do them, regardless of whether you last did them yesterday or last week. Like vacuuming, cleaning the toilet or dusting. So my house wasn’t up to white glove standards. big whoop.

So, given my history and challenges, I have a question for moms like Tina and I who sometimes get, as Tina put it, “impatient, frustrated, short-tempered and unkind:”

What kind of sleep are you getting? Supposedly, a sleep cycle is 90 minutes. I know that when my sleep is fragmented or I don’t get enough of it, I’m predisposed to a lack of patience and frustration. It doesn’t take much to push me off the “good mom” wagon.

Yes, when I get more sleep, my day is shorter. I have less time to accomplish all the things I “need” to. But when I get more (and better) sleep, my day – and my family’s day – is BETTER. And all those things I “need” to do? Some get done. Some don’t. Some jobs I keep doing. Some jobs FirstHusband handles. Some jobs the kids take care of. Some I decide not to do anymore.

You CAN change your situation. Even minor changes can add up. We have choices to make every day. When you say to yourself, “I HAVE to do (insert urgent, important task here).” Rethink it. Do you? What’s the worst thing that would happen if you didn’t? What things can you let go of? What things can you allow others to take responsibility for? Maybe the person who picks up your slack doesn’t do things exactly like you would. Is it THAT important that something be done your way?

I used to think I had no choices. But I was confusing “no choice” with “difficult choice.”

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Find more ideas over at Works for Me Wednesday, hosted by Kristen at We Are THAT Family.

Works for Me Wednesday posts prior to February 2009 are archived at Rocks In My Dryer

a little commotion

I’ve been lax over at Pragmatic Commotion, but I’ve put up a few posts in the last few days:

549 out of 200

hiccupy tears & Despereaux

It’s funny but each post very clearly represents where we are in our parenting stages with each child.

I like my kids. They make me smile.

p.s.
1. I hated Despereaux – the book – haven’t seen the movie. Hated it. Skipped parts.
2. Any teenage texting/cell phone rule suggestions other than the ones in the Commotion post?