Chores Are Such a Chore

I love it when things in life knit themselves together.  I watch it happen often in our learning.  For instance, on Sunday our minister spent some time sharing about his trip to Israel.  Last week, our history focused on the life and death of Christ and early Christianity.  We are reading Ben-Hur.  It all seems to be tied together.  Those links are made in our lives and our brains without real effort or orchestration.  I love it when that happens.

The same thing is happening since I read The Power of Habit.  One of my things on my list for 2014 was to create a chore system for the kids and me that worked.  As I read that book and thought about what I really want it occurred to me that I'm trying to create habits in my children.

My old method of assigning chores was to give each kid a chore for a week (wash dishes, load dishwasher/unload dishwasher/put clean dishes away, sweep and vacuum floors/wipe table and counters, take out trash and recycling).  At the end of the week there would be a big discussion over who did or didn't finish the last of the dishes/floor/garbage and how to make it "fair".  That was a weekly issue. 

The other issue was the quality of work.  Because each child only kept each job for a week they could blame faulty results on the child who had done the job prior to their tenure.  There was no real incentive or accountability for good work or poor work.  And really, there wasn't time to train for each job and expect mastery.  By the time they understood the responsibilities and techniques of a job it was time to move on to the next job.  They didn't repeat a job for three more weeks.  All learning and skill was lost.

I've often thought that teaching kids how to do things is much harder than just doing them myself.  So many times I can get something done faster and better on my own than if I farm it out.  If I do something myself I know it's done correctly and meets whatever standard I've set.  I also know that it truly is done and won't require extra work or supervision or fussing later.

The catch is that my purpose in raising my children is to train them in the way I would have them go.  Or better yet, in the way God would have them go.  To me this means that I am not striving to have good children.  My effort is focused on creating outstanding adults.  Because of this future focus I know that I must equip my children. Equipping takes time.  It takes energy.  It's a chore.

In light of my purpose and what I learned about building a habit I decided I needed to revamp the chores at our house.  Rather than assigning a chore each week I determined that each child would do one chore for a month.  In that month's time they would be able to master each job.  While it might be tedious to do the same thing for a month, there would be no confusion over who had which responsibility.  Once they were trained for each job so thoroughly they wouldn't have difficulty remembering what to do the next time the job was theirs.  Training once and making it stick was a feature that really appealed to me.

Miraculously enough the new system is working.  I'm afraid to say it yet but it seems to be true.  I always know who is responsible and so do they.  They are able to do the jobs and take pride in them.  There is no question or debate or irritation about who should or shouldn't have done what.  This new habit is forming.  At our house, chores are not quite the chore they were.

A Shift of Focus

My sister is a very gifted photographer.  One of the striking things about her photos is how changing the focus of her photo changes everything.  Sometimes she brings a close object into sharp focus, letting the background go fuzzy.  Other times she selects a far object around which to center her photo.  Even if every single thing in the photo stays the same, other than her focus, the image seems brand new.

Lately, my focus is undergoing a shift.  Perhaps the shift has been happening for some time now.  However, I feel now my focus is becoming clear.  My parenting journey began over sixteen years ago.  The first ten years of parenting were clearly focused on safety and survival.  Each day brought challenges but the skills required to deal with those challenges were clearly on the bottom half of Maslow's hierarchy of needs.  On a good day we totally fulfill the third level needs.  I feel that at this time all four of my children find their basic physical and safety needs met.  I also believe that they are all secure in their feelings of belonging and love.  Now we are moving on up.

My life no longer revolves around diapers, car seats, basic nutrition, sleep schedules, and the like.  I am done training toddlers.  My life is now about the business of creating worthwhile adults.  Clarifying that shift in focus has been life changing for me.  The children before me seem brand new.

Over the next years my focus will be centered around esteem and self-actualization.  As a Christian I know that my worth comes from Christ and on my relationship with Christ.  My value comes from glorifying God.  My role as a parent centers on supporting and loving my children as they explore the world and their function in it.  My role as a teacher is to provide my children the opportunities and education to move them forward in the world in such  way that they can be successful in the challenges they pursue.  The end results that I desire are four adults who are faith filled, life long learners who move through this world with confidence, generosity of spirit and grace. 

Just like that, the picture looks totally different and as a result I feel differently about it.  My role seems much more valuable.  The urgency of my job feels greater.  I feel less prepared.  Thankfully, the tools that I've developed in dealing with the lower level needs will be helpful as I face these new needs.  Prayer, preparation, time and energy are in my favor.  I am being intentional about finding resources to support our goals.  Our journey continues and can't wait to see where we go from here. 

My Philosophy of Parenting

I'm not often (practically never) asked for parenting advice but if I were there is really only one practical piece of help I could offer.  Pray.  Pray often.  Pray long.  Pray hard.  Pray specifically.  Pray.

In light of my belief in the fact that prayer is our greatest parenting asset, I was delighted to find a parenting trend that fits my outlook very well.  The CTFD style of parenting seems to be just about right to me. Now, for those of you that may be offended by the language just skip the f word and just stick with me.  You may be struggling to understand how prayer and CTFD could possibly work together.  Trust me, they do.

It is absolutely impossible to worry and pray at the same time.  You can worry or you can pray.  You cannot do both.  Only one of those choices provides comfort, assurance, results.  God tells us repeatedly (and repeatedly, and even more repeatedly) in the Bible not to worry.  God also tells us repeatedly (and repeatedly, and even more repeatedly) to pray (without ceasing even!). 

So, CTFD (or CT*D if that's more comfortable) and pray rather than worry.  God's got this and you and your child(ren).  And that's my very best parenting advice.

Our 360 Experience

Sometimes when my husband makes suggestions or brings home ideas from work I cringe.  He's a six sigma certified black belt.  That means that he's an expert in getting rid of variance in a process.  He is trained to break a job down to it's simplest parts and eliminate anything that adds cost or time.  He's also trained to manage the people that do the jobs so that they happily buy into the new cost and time efficient processes that result.  His training is wonderful but I've discovered that employees have more motivation for change than do family members.  I've also discovered that I don't really like to change.

After a difficult time managing a farm job yesterday afternoon we all sat down to a family dinner and he proposed that we have a family meeting when the meal was over.  As the meal progressed everyone was in good spirits.  We talked and laughed and really enjoyed each others company.  When it was time for the family meeting Rob told us that we each should share something we recognize about ourselves that could use improvement and then share something that we see in each family member that could use improvement.  The goal as I understood it was to recognize that we all fall short of perfection and that there are some very real steps we could take to improve our family.

I will admit that I was sceptical.  Sharing faults is not my strong suit.  I'm a glass half full kind of girl and this seemed like a glass totally empty kind of activity.  I was wrong.  As we moved from person to person I was blessed to see that the comments were thoughtful and caring.  We were able to share some things with each other in a safe environment that really needed to be shared. 

We laughed together and truly listened to what others  had to say.  Most of the time we all agreed.  When we didn't agree we found it possible to let go without being defensive.  Our only difficult moment came when M8 cried while I held her.  Hearing about the things others don't like about you is hard for anyone but especially for a sensitive 8 year old.  Learning that some of your behaviors aren't charming is a tough lesson but it's a timely one.

Now I won't kid you that I found the process easy or especially pleasant.  It's hard to know that my children aren't blessed by me every minute of every day.  I'd love to be perfect for them.  It is good to know that I have the ability to bless them more often than I do.  It'll be difficult to break the huffy breath, eye roll habit that I have but I'm willing to try.  I'm also going to try to ask for help before I'm at the end of my rope.  And, I'm going to try to make my expectations clear and manageable. 

I think that we were all a little more mindful of our potential for improvement today.  I pray that as we move forward our circle remains unbroken and that we continue to find strength and support in each other.

A Different View

Yesterday my day was filled with opportunities to view the world around me a little differently. 

I began my morning with an optometrist appointment for S10.  Around Christmas time, while we were trying to decide on our benefit options for 2012 we gave the kids a quickie vision screening.  No one had complained of vision issues so we really weren't expecting anything but 20/20 all around.  We were right in 7 out of 8 eyes.  Shane's right eye failed the vision screening miserably. 

Being a mother, I had already thought of worst case scenarios (brain tumors, optic nerve issues, etc.) and planned, at least in theory, for how we'd cope with whatever treatment or surgery was required.  In my mind any difficulty was fixable.  It never really crossed my mind that there would be something wrong with his eye that couldn't be corrected.

The doctor diagnosed Shane with a macular scar that can't be corrected.  He is not seeing much at all through his right eye.  The biggest E on the vision chart was all he could manage.  Those were the same results we got with our quick screening before Christmas.  He does have peripheral vision in  his right eye but all direct vision is blocked by the scar. 

The great news is that his left eye is 20/20.  He'll have to wear eye protection for the rest of his life because his left eye is now twice as important as it was.  Looking at him, no one will know that his right eye isn't working correctly.  He won't have to wear a patch or anything like that.  He's very excited about wearing glasses. 

After leaving the doctor's office I was feeling a little overwhelmed.  All of a sudden, my son was partially blind.  Then I realized that nothing had really changed.  His condition isn't new to him.  This may have been something that he's had since he was six.  His vision was normal for him and we didn't realize that there was a problem because he didn't realize there was a problem.  So really, for four years, we've had a partially blind son.  The only difference that our new knowledge brings is the opportunity to take precautions.  S10 is the same boy.  We are the same parents.  Nothing has been lost.  We just have a different view now.

I also got a different view yesterday evening.  This one was from the passenger side of my van after K15 passed her learner's exam. 

I've driven that van for almost ten years.  I've ridden as a passenger with many different drivers.  I've even ridden as a passenger with K15 on our gravel road.  This time I was the passenger for 16 miles of paved road with many other drivers, lights, signs and rain.  It was a whole new view of the world. 

I think we both did really well on our first drive together.  Neither of us freaked out.  Neither of us cried.  Neither of us stomped off when the ride was over.  I can't say it's always gone so well when I've been the one driving.

The view from the passenger seat is one that will take some time to grow accustom to.  I can see some advantages but I see more challenges.  My biggest challenge yesterday was the absence of a brake pedal on my side of the car.  I'm hoping I learn to cope with the lack of control and trust the judgement of K15 over time.  I hope she continues to listen to and respect my experience as we travel together.  I hope the new view I have as we move into the world of teen drivers just keeps getting better.

Finally, my Bible study last night was from the 10th chapter of Acts were Peter gets a really new view on the world the way God intends it.  I am continually amazed with the faith of Peter and the love and grace he showed as he modeled Christ for those around him. 

I pray that I always take time in difficult circumstances to really consider my view.  What I see at first glance is not always the correct view.  What seems most obvious is not always the most helpful.  I pray that when I'm presented with a new view I'll be like Peter and take the time to ask God what it all means and how I'm to respond.  I pray that, like Peter, my response will be based on the godly view.  

Same Song, Different Verse

Being a teenager is hard.  Having a teenager is harder.  I keep trying to forget that I have three more teenagers coming. 

Last night K15 sang us a different verse of the same old song.  We took her to a friend's house.  An adult was suppose to bring K home before 11pm.  We don't let K ride in cars with teenagers.  K knows this.  Her friend knows this.  Unfortunately, once again, K thought she wouldn't get caught or she didn't think at all.  She got in the car with a teenage driver then lied about it.  She didn't come clean until we presented all the facts to her. 

The upside is that my family room and bathroom are really clean.  The downside is that I have no clue what it's going to take to get my daughter to walk in obedience. 

I see her tears and contrite spirit after she is caught and feel for her.  It's hard not to fit in because your rules are, well, rules.  So many of her friends don't have boundaries or if they do the boundaries are flexible or negotiable.  Some of her friends know their parents won't be checking up on them.  Some of her friends know their parents expect them to ___________ because kids will be kids.  Our rules are black and white.  They center around personal safety and responsibility.  K knows what is allowed and she knows why.  She doesn't always like our rules or agree with them but she never has to wonder if something is going to get her into trouble or not.  She knows.

Even with clear guidelines, staying out of trouble is not always so cut and dry.  It's hard to say, "I'm not allowed" when you are 15 and no one with you has the same rules.  It's hard to be part of a group that will be hanging out long after you have left.  It's hard not to be invited because everyone knows that your parents won't let you _______. 

Keeping a 15 year old safe and sheltered feels next to impossible sometimes.  She fights it.  The world around us fights it.  It seems inevitable that she's going to face all those dangers that we try to keep her from.  Someday, she will have to make her own choices.  Someday she will get into cars with the people that she chooses, not her dad or me.  Someday she will decide how late she stays out and with whom.  Someday but not yet.

My prayer is that by the time she is making those decisions without my supervision she'll be ready to take as good care of herself as I take of her.  I pray that she will value herself as much as I value her.  I pray that she will require others to value her as well.  I pray that when she's making her choices she will hear the words of love preaching safety and responsibilty in her heart and that she will choose well.

Fool Me Once, Shame on You. Fool Me Twice...

We are now at fool me three times.  I suppose we should be full of shame.  I certainly feel foolish, used, betrayed.  My beautiful 15 year old daughter fooled me three times.  Trust is so far gone that I'm not sure how we will ever get it back.  Today I was served with a court summons.  Delinquent.  It's sobering to see that word applied to your child.  I look at her beautiful face and wonder how such a word can possibly describe her.

Earlier in the summer my daughter got caught sneaking back into a friends house after going to a party with her boyfriend and drinking.  We discovered that the sneaking around and drinking were an ongoing habit.  Lovely.  My daughter spent the remainder of the summer under my direct supervision.   Sleepovers are no longer part of her world.  Parental supervision when visiting with her friends is a requirement.

Two weeks ago, we allowed my daughter to go with her boyfriend and another couple to their school's homecoming.  It was the first time we'd allowed her to go anywhere without direct parental supervision since last June.  It was the first time we'd allowed her to ride in the car with a teenage driver.  After the couples left for the dance, we discovered (thanks to some text messages) that vodka was part of the plan.  We had no confidence that the kids would remain at the dance, despite what they'd told us or the limits that we'd placed on them.  My husband went to the dance to confront our daughter.  Unfortunately, our hopes of keeping our concerns quiet was impossible when the school officials and sheriff got involved.  All four of the kids involved were charged with underage drinking.

Today, my doorbell rang and I was greeted by a sheriff with a court summons. We had a nice chat.  He liked my tattoo.  Evidently, several families in town received a similar summons today.  Homecoming was a busy night for the sheriff's department evidently.   In twelve days we go to court.  We'll probably see several people we know there.  My daughter will be pleading guilty.  She is.  No doubt.  I have no idea what the consequences will be nor the cost.  She'll pay them all.  Hopefully it will be a lesson learned, a lasting lesson.

Maybe I've learned something in all of this too.  Perhaps, I won't be fooled again.

Freedom!

One of the things I love about getting older, and perhaps having too much wine, is that I can be honest about certain things in life.  A friend's daughter, pregnant with her second child, asked me this evening how it was having #2.  Her main concern was that she wouldn't love the second as much as the first.  Thankfully, I was able to honestly say, "No, that wasn't even a concern of mine."  Unfortunately, what I added was that #2 kicked my butt and that my biggest mistake was having one in the process of potty training along with #2 being a newborn.  Pure stupidity on my part.  The fortunate part is that I was able to honestly tell this concerned young mother that it didn't make a bit of difference.  I loved my second child in the same crazy, hopeful way that I'd loved the first.  It didn't even require thought or extra effort.

The second thing I said, that may have been a mistake, is that I don't really like babies.  I know it's a shocker.  I've had four babies.  EVERYONE LOVES babies.  Except me.  I'd much rather see a four month old to 3 year  old.  I love the toddler stage.  The next shocker would be that I don't really love other people's children.  Gasp!  Four children of my own, how can I not LOVE every child  that I meet? Well, I just don't.  Other children must earn my love and appreciation.  My own children have the love on an automatic response.  They must, however, learn to behave in a way that engenders my cooperation.  Please, thank you and I love you are expected phrases in my home.  My children know I will do just about ANYTHING for them but they MUST ask appropriately.

I'm really not sure if it's age or experience.  Maybe it's a combination of the two.  Either way it works.

The Right Cut

My son had been asking for me to cut his hair.  This was the fifth or sixth request for a hair cut over the course of the week. I put him off several times earlier in the week by telling him the time wasn't convenient or I wasn't sure where to find the electric razor. I'd put him off as long as I could.  I dreaded the job, not because it was difficult but because I loved his hair. 

When my son asks for a haircut he's not wanting a nice man cut with scissors.  He's requesting that I get out the electric razor and mow down his beautiful hair until all that remains is a velvety carpet of stubble on his head.  Before I had children, I made so many judgements and proclamations of the way things would and would not be in my family.  I was young and foolish and still believed that control was mine for the taking.  Now, I know with a clear and certain knowledge that passing judgement and issuing proclamations outlining perfection is the sure way to regret and reevaluation.

As you've probably guessed, one of the things that I proclaimed, for all the world to hear, was that when I had a son, he'd never have a buzz cut.  God heard my prayer, laughed and sent me an amazing little boy who from the time he was three has claimed the buzz cut as his own personal style statement.  He truly believes he is the most handsome creature on the planet when his hair is freshly shorn.  He believes it so deeply that it makes him dance, naked, in the bathroom.

Last night he'd finally had it with waiting for me to get things together for his haircut.  He found the razor himself and hauled me into the bathroom to complete the job I'd been assigned.  Sadly, the razor hadn't been charged and wasn't working up to full power so we had to plug it in and let it charge for a bit.  My son has about as much patience as the typical eight year old.  After about twenty minutes he asked me to come see if the razor was ready.  It seemed to have charged so I put the guard on it and began cutting.  One swath from dead center of the forehead back to his crown complete.  I began on the second pathway and the razor wound down and died.

My son is not normally concerned about appearance.  His color seldom match.  He's been known to tuck his dress pants legs into his cowboy boots.  His sisters keep a pretty close eye on him if we are going out in public so he won't embarrass them with his appearance.  I knew the hair cut we'd gotten done so far was not permanent and that we didn't have to go anywhere so there would be time to finish it after dinner.  He was not convinced and expressed his determination to stay in the bathroom until the razor was fully charged and the job was complete.  I explained to him that it could take several hours to charge the razor and that he'd get bored sitting in the bathroom alone.  A better choice might be to find a hat.  My idea was rejected.  He was determined to remain in isolation.  I left to fix dinner.  About twenty minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom to find a hat.  Pulled said hat very low over his head, almost covering his eyes and sulked his way down the stairs. 

After dinner, we were sure the razor had to be charged.  Finished the second partially mowed row and began on a third.  Things were humming along nicely and then we started running out of juice.  Two thirds of the front was complete.  He looked even more ridiculous than he had before dinner.   Once again, he had the agonizing choice between hat and bathroom.  His sisters were waiting for him to watch a movie.  He couldn't let them down so, after he'd gotten me to promise that he absolutely would not have to leave the house with this cut even if it meant missing Bible study in the morning, he resituated the hat and took his place in front of the screen.

Two hours passed in make believe bliss.  The razor was fully charged, the job was completed with no further delays.  Trim work done. A freshly shorn boy did a dance of recognition and thanksgiving in the bathroom. 

 His mother/barber laughed with delight at how something I once found so abhorrent for my imaginary son could bring such joy to the real life version.  I also caught myself saying a prayer that he would always find joy that would make him dance and that the joy would be something as simple and wonderful as the right hair cut.

Birth Days

My sister had her first child a few days ago.  My youngest daughter and my oldest daughter will be celebrating their birthdays in the next two weeks.  All these birthdays have made me think more about what a birth day means to me, as a mother.

I spent part of this morning shopping with my youngest daughter for her birthday party.  She's planning a pajama party.  Pizza, movies, manicures and a sleepover with her friends.  We bought Hello Kitty plates, cups, napkins, invitations, pink balloons, crepe paper, a pinata and candy.   We made a guest list then we filled out and delivered the invitations.

For my daughter, her birthday is all about being the special one.  It's her opportunity to make requests and order the world just the way she likes it.   For me, birthdays are a time to remember.  They are an opportunity to reflect over the past year and all the years before.  They are the day that I focus on one child and our time together.  Each of my children has a birth story that is as unique as they are.  I love that our celebrations now reflect their unique likes, dislikes and interests.  I love sharing a day that is all about them.

I'm certain my children have little understanding about what makes a birthday a truly special day.  It would be impossible to explain how birthdays belong to me more than they belong to them.  They can't understand how becoming a mother to each of them has changed me.  Someday they may be parents and then they will know what a birthday is about.  Until then, we'll share these special days on their terms.  Complete with pink balloons and chocolate cake.  A celebration of the life we share.

Not Just Any Ice Cream

We are home, not a decision has been made but we did find that ice cream that I predicted.  It's good to accomplish something even when everything else is still up in the air.  The ice cream came from an unexpected source, one of our favorite places in the Parkersburg area, Holl's.

For those of you that haven't had the pleasure of experiencing Holl's you just need to know that it is a chocolate lovers paradise.  It's set up  like a jewelry store displaying each chocolate in a loving and delicious way.  It's the first and only chocolate store I've ever seen give chocolate the staging and respect it deserves.   Chocolate is truly showcased at Holl's in a way that sets in apart.  Not just the display but the chocolate and filling combinations.  There is no fluff here, no mallow, no artificle colors or flavors.  Chocolate, milk, dark and white, and the very best fruit, caramel, and for some, nuts are the only ingredients necessary.

If you are fortunate enough to visit Holl's during strawberry season (true strawberry season, not trucked in strawberry season) then the chocolate dipped strawberries are to die for.  They must be eaten relatively quickly.  I personally prefer not taking them out of the parking lot but one can wait up to two hours, if possessing incredible will power.

If you miss strawberry season, it's possible to find many other outstanding favorites and spend more than $50 on chocolate in less than 15 minutes.  Trust me, I've done it.  However, the point of this story wasn't to wax poetic about chocolate or sing the praises of Holl's, it was to tell you about finding the ice cream.

We pulled up to Holl's this afternoon and were intrigued by the sign hanging on the front claiming gourmet ice cream bars.  We love ice cream and have had some excellent ice cream.  Our local favorite is Graeter's and I doubt you can find better ice cream anywhere on the planet.  I must admit I was sceptical about gourmet ice cream bars.  I scored my $50 worth of chocolate and was preparing to leave when my beautiful children asked in their most angelic voices if they might please, have an ice cream bar.  Being their mother's children they, of course, requested chocolate.  Being a chocolate loving mother I could not refuse their precious request.  Out of the store we came with two gourmet chocolate ice cream bars and I must admit that they were delicious.  Chocolate chocolate chocolate, cold and creamy, on a stick.  Heavenly.  Score another one for Holl's.

As I said earlier, we are still waiting at the crossroads.  No changes to report yet but lots of possibilities.  And delicious ice cream.  I am blessed in so many ways and those ice cream bars are my reminder to pay attention to the blessings even when I'm not sure what's coming next.

The Count

There are a lot of unanticipated side effects that come with parenting.  An especially annoying one is never being able to identify the needed child by their name on the first try.  I usually have to say two or, sometimes, three names to get the one I want.  I even throw in the dog's name on occasion and I almost never intend to ask the dog to set the table or practice piano or clean his room. 

Another parenting tick that I never anticipated was the constant counting.  Whenever we are in public I am constantly counting children to be certain everyone is there.  This may be because I know I won't be able to call their names correctly if under pressure.  It may be the beginnings of an obsessive compulsive problem.  Whatever it is, I find myself doing it in the grocery store, zoo, library, mall, parking lot, hotel elevators, getting in the van, getting out of the van, in church, anywhere really.

The chief irritation about this habit is that the number is not set in stone.  For the last year, I've been counting to five.  Now, I only need to count to four.  Last week when ds8 was at camp, I only needed to count to three.  You'd think that I'd be thankful for less counting.  After all, counting to three is easier and less time consuming than counting to five.  And, in theory, you'd be correct.  I should be thankful for less counting except I forget.  I forget that I only need to count to three and so I start my count, get to three and my heart stops for a moment, gripped by panic because I know in my soul that my count is five and there are two not present to be counted.  Once I breathe, I remember why I'm not counting to five today but the damage is done.  I've have that sinking, breathless feeling and I'm trying to feel in balance again.  Three, I remind myself, three not five.  Everything is fine.  And it would be, if twenty minutes later, I didn't count again and forget to stop at three and have the whole thing happen again.  Thankfully, the second time, I can let it go more easily.  The recovery time is faster and I don't feel sick to my stomach, just sheepish for forgetting so quickly.  The third time I just stop at three, take a deep breath and quietly chuckle to myself.

As my children have grown, the need to count hasn't gotten to be any less a habit.  I count the 13 year old and the 18 year old just as I count the 5 year old.  I don't have to count them quite as quickly and I can usually find them more easily.  When we are together they are always included in the count.  I'd be willing to bet that while we were visiting Disney in April I counted to five a thousand times a day.  That's a lot of counting.

A Lesson in Trust Part 2

Today, I have a guest writer.  As a consequence of K13's behavior that I shared previously, she had to write a paper outlining what she'd done, why it was wrong and how her actions lined up with  God's expectations.  I've been given permission to share her paper here.

It is important to think over your decisions before you make them. Ask yourself is this safe? Why am I doing it? Would my parents approve? If you are about to do something that endangers your life or someone else’s life (by even a little bit) do not do it. Are you doing it because you want to or are you doing it so you do not look scared or stupid? Just because other kids are doing it does not mean you have to. Trust is important. You need to have a trustworthy relationship with your parents. To keep a trustworthy relationship, you must make decisions that you know they would approve of.


On June 22, 2010, I spent the night at my friend’s house. At around 11:30pm we snuck out of her house and walked to her boyfriend’s house. If you are about to do something that is past curfew without your parents’ or another adult and your parents’ permission, do not do it. In Indiana it is against the law for children under the age of 18 to go out without an adult past 11:00pm on weekdays and 1:00am on weekends. The punishment for this the first time is a warning and ride home. The second, third, fourth and so on it is a $500 fine and 90 day jail term.

Once we were at her boyfriend’s house, he and a couple of his friends snuck us into the house. It is also against the law to trespass on private property. There is no punishment for trespassing once on property that is not marked private property. But, if the same person continues to trespass on the property, there is a fine and possible jail time. Just because you won’t get in trouble the first time does not mean you can do it. Do not take the risk. It is against the law, so, do not do it.

One of the boys that was at the house had a an illegal drug with them. Tens of thousands of people die annually from the usage of illegal drugs. Using drugs especially as a teenager is bad not only for you but the people around you to. Drugs make you do thing that you shouldn’t do. In Dodge City, Kansas five teenagers high on marijuana. Killed a stranger for no obvious reason. In West Palm Beach, Florida three teenagers mixed beer, rum, cocaine, and marijuana. Then they kidnapped a tourist from Brooklyn and set them on fire. Drugs also cause problems in our country such as violent street gangs, family violence, the spreading of ADIS, and babies born with cocaine dependency.

There are a lot of teenagers that do drugs. The average age for kids to first try drugs is 13. Two-thirds of all American teenagers try drugs before they finish high school. one in sixteen high school seniors smoke marijuana daily.

Just because some teenagers don’t go to church that is not why they are doing drugs. In fact, the percentage of teenagers that go to church and do drugs is not very much lower than the percentage of teenagers that don’t go to church and do drugs. 61% of teenagers that do marijuana and/or cocaine don’t go to church but 49% of them do.

In the Bible, it has some things to say about drugs. In Exodus 20:12 it says "honor your mother and father". Do your parents want you to do drugs? If yes, then you might want to get someone else’s opinion. In Galatians 5:19-21 it says, "The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery, idolatry and witchcraft [which includes the use of drugs]; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissension, factions, and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God."

The boys had been popping pills before we got there. Drugs are sometimes used for medical reasons but, unless your parents or a doctor give them to you, don’t use them. They can be very harmful when used in the wrong way. Don’t over dose on the drugs that you have permission to use. That can be especially harmful. Just because most people say that using medicine in a way that it is not meant to be used in is safer than using drugs or drinking does not mean they are right. In fact they aren’t. One in five teenagers abuse medicine and the numbers are growing. One of the reasons that the numbers are growing is because medicine is easier to get. All that teenagers have to do is take them from the medicinal cabinet. Using medicine can make you high. The long-term effects are bad withdrawal symptoms, normal side effects (for the medicine that is being used) and addiction.

Two of the boys were smoking. Another growing problem in American teenagers is smoking. 80% of smokers begin before the age of 18. Of those about 3,900 smoke every day and of those 1,500 become regular smokers. 90% of smokers begin before age 21. In 2005 23% of high school students had smoked with in the last month. A way to tell if someone is smoking is they will have secondary behavioral issues such as violence, they are more likely to use drugs or drink alcohol and have a high-risk of sexual behavior. There are many reasons that teenagers start smoking. It may be because of low self-image or self-esteem, the availability of cigarettes if there parents or siblings smoke or the lack of parental involvement in their lives. Smoking is bad for you and the long term effects are not worth looking "cool" in front of your friends. Here are some of the long term effects: reduced stamina, chronic cough, bad breath, yellow teeth, stinky clothes, and it is an expensive habit, A pack a day could add up to $1000 a year. A lot of kids smoke but that does not mean that you have to.

It is not safe to go out without an adult, there are some very confused people that could hurt you if you do. There are about 2,000,000 child molesters in the United States of America and around 55 in southern Indiana. Almost 800,000 children go missing each year most are from family abductions but around 58,000 are strangers that abduct and demand ransom for the child’s release. Most of the children that are abducted are recovered but the small percent of children that are abducted and murdered are dead within three hours of the abduction. The short-term and long-term effects an abduction has on a family are emotional impact, stress, guilt and mourning. If I would have been abducted my family would have been very upset they would have had to call the police, report a missing child, and then they would have to just wait until the authorities found me, if they did find me. During the time that I’d be gone the whole family would be very worried and upset. It would break their hearts that someone had taken me from them. I am now aware that when I was picked up by the state police it was a blessing. If I had been abducted or raped the impact that it would have had on me and my family would have been terrible. It would have crushed me and my loved ones.

On our way home we were pulled over by the state police. We were given a warning and a ride home. What we did was very dangerous and I thank God that it was the state police that picked us up and not someone that could have hurt us.

This verse has some information that applies to what I have done. 1 Peter 1:14-16 says that do not do what is evil in the eyes of the Lord "Be Holy, Because the Lord is Holy." This means that we should follow in the Lord’s steps and, be as much like him as we possibly can because if we do what is right in his eyes we do what is honoring our parents.

Other verses that apply are Ephesians 5:1-17. The verse in this that is think applies the most is 11-12 it says do not walk in the ways of evil for even speaking of what they do in private is shameful. By making choices that I knew were wrong I was walking in the way of evil. Hebrews 12:5-11 reminds me that I am disciplined for my own good and it leads to peace and righteousness.

I would like to close my report by apologizing again for taking your trust for granted and doing things that I know you would not approve of. I love you very much and hope I may earn your forgiveness and your trust back.

I hope you approve of my report and know that I will never do anything like that every again.



The People Affected by My Decisions

1.My Family

2.Briteny’s Family

3.Ricky's Family

4.Oma and Opa

5.Austin

6.TJ

7.Ricky

8.The Police Officer

9.Briteny

10.Me

11.Lucy Lane

12.Makalya

Information I Used for my Report

WWW.FAMILYWATCHDOG.US

WWW.MISSINGKIDS.COM

WWW.PREVENT-ABUSE-NOW.COM

WWW.ACEP.ORG

PUBLIC.FINDLAW.COM

ANTISEX.INFO/EN/MOLESTER.HTM

hamptonroads.com

www.leaderu.com

www.familyfirstaid.org

Heyman, Richard (2001). How to say it to Teens. Prentice Hall Press

Recognizing Joy

Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves

 to recognize how good things really are.                        

    - Marianne Williamson

Today, I had the joy of being with my children.  Of course I did, you might be thinking.  I'm always with my children.  And, you would be correct.  I am always, almost always, with my children.  But sometimes, it's not a joy. 

I know.   It's a shocker but it's true.  Sometimes my children are not a joy.  Sometimes they are a serious pain and must be tolerated simply because they are children and, most importantly, they are mine.

Today, however, it was a joy to be with my children. 

At the request of H11, I got up early and made chocolate chip coffee cake.  I figured, with the day I had planned, I'd better be sure everyone was happily fed before we left the house.  My strategy worked.  All four children rose happily and quickly to enjoy one of their favorite breakfast treats.   After devouring the coffee cake, we enjoyed a local production of Twelfth Night.  It was a two person show, not counting a few (four) puppets.  We were all very pleased with the performances and enjoyed the show immensely.  I've found that my children really like Shakespeare.  I'm constantly underestimating my children but I'm not the only one.

In fact, when we stopped for lunch later in the day, our server looked very much like one of the actors in Twelfth Night. M5 commented on the resemblance and our server asked which play we'd been to see.  The children told her and the server told M5 that she'd performed in Romeo and Juliet but never in Twelfth Night.  The server then bent down to tell M5, in a sort of babyish, somewhat condescending tone,  that Romeo and Juliet and Twelfth Night had been written by the same man.  "Shakespeare?"  M5 responded.  The server looked surprised at M5's knowledge.  Really though, if a 5 year old is bright enough to enjoy a play by Shakespeare why wouldn't she be bright enough to know the name of the man who wrote the play?

After the play and lunch, we did our grocery shopping and then hung out at the house for the rest of the day.  S8 is leaving for camp tomorrow so we got his bags almost packed.  M5 is excited to have her pink room back.  K13 is excited for M5 to be gone from her green room so we spent some time moving clothes, books, furniture and Barbies.  Lots of Barbies.  Everyone even took pity on me and participated in a 15 minute pick-up which left the entire house, except S8's room, neat.

Even bath time was pain free.  And bed time, relatively so.  If you don't count a very sharp meeting of nose with forehead.  No one was permanently injured but tears followed.  I cried because my nose hurt so much and M5 cried because she'd hurt me.  I am fairly certain there will be bruising.  M5 and S8 even got to enjoy neighborhood fireworks out their window.  They were especially spectacular with all the lights out and experienced after M5 and S8 really should have been in bed.  How can you refuse to let children watch fireworks on the 4th of July weekend though?  And in M5's words, "They are gorgeous!"

My feeling exactly, about the fireworks, and about the four amazing children with whom I have the privilege, the joy, to share each day.

The Price of Independence

As a child it never in occurred to me that parents  pay a price for independence.  I was working so hard to achieve that hard won status and believed the cost was mine.  As a parent, I understand that my parents paid a price too.  Last week, the price was the heart stopping realization that I'd misplaced my trust and taken too much for granted.  This week the price is much cheaper.  Really, it's a lesson in tolerance and perspective.

My kitchen is an absolute disaster.  Flour covers almost every surface, the floor and two of my children.  Olives and other bits of debris litter the floor.  I could go on to catalog the mess and the irritation.  I could lament the fact that I'll spend way more time this evening encouraging and cajoling my children in the clean up process than I would have spent if I had just made and cleaned up on my own.

Why go through it?  Why grin and bear the flour coating my recently cleaned kitchen floor?  For the payoff.  Six children, enjoying pizza that they made with no real help from an adult.  That kind of pride in accomplishment and budding independence can't be bought or taught.  It has to be experienced.

You know what else can't be bought?  A clean kitchen after a cooking adventure.  That has to be earned with hard work and effort. 

Two life lessons with pepperoni and extra cheese.  Pass my plate.

A Lesson in Trust

My 13 year old daughter was brought home in the middle of the night on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning  in a state police car.  I never thought about how it might feel to have that happen.  If I had given it any thought, I'm pretty sure I thought of my own embarrassment, how I'd explain that or how I'd feel to have a kid who was that bad.  I'm working hard to raise good kids.  I worry about not teaching her enough about taking care of a house or car, balancing her checking account, healthy meals, basic cleaning, laundry.  I spend time planning lessons for her that involve Latin, algebra, ancient history, biology not Beginning Delinquent 101.

The crazy thing is when I saw that police car pull into my driveway, I didn't feel anything but relief.  I'm not sure I've ever been more thankful for anyone than that state police officer.  He rescued my baby from a potentially dangerous situation and carried her safely home.  She may never leave my sight again.  I'm so weak with relief I've found it impossible to be angry.  She and a friend snuck out of the friend's house in the middle of the night and went walking around town.  Too many horrible things could have happened to a 13 year old out unsupervised in the middle of the night.  My imagination is way too active and inventive for my comfort. I say a prayer of thanksgiving and wonder how to keep this from ever happening again.

Coming home in the police car made an impression.  I'm praying that a variety of other consequences have made impressions on her as well.  Apologies made, having to explain what happened to friends and family, rising early and working hard, research about teenage tragedy.  I think my 13 year old is more than happy to let me take care of correcting her.  She's acknowledged her sin and she's ready to face whatever consequence I see necessary.  She knows that what she did was thoughtless and that the results could have been so much worse.  She stumbled across that line between childhood and adulthood, making choices that she wasn't ready to handle.  I think she's relieved that there were adults, ready and willing, to usher her, quickly and firmly, back to the side of childhood.  If all goes well she'll be hanging out in childhood for several years before she ventures out again. 

My 13 year old has learned what it's like to break the trust of people that love her. She's learned that making choices can affect more than just the moment and more than just her. She's learned that trust is fragile and the effort for repair is great. I've learned that trust must be earned, by her and trust has already been earned, by God. I've learned that my trust must rest in God because there is no one else that is worthy of that kind of blind devotion. Being a parent is an impossible chore without certainty that there is a higher power looking out for my children and loving them more perfectly than I ever could. I trust in that and am thankful for it.


There is no way to be prepared for all the challenges of parenting.  No matter how many hours we spend rehearsing scenarios of potential issues we won't think about the issues that will actually face us.  There are too many possible pit falls, too many options for disaster.  When I became a parent, I went in blind.  Most days, I still feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark.  I pray for wisdom and hope that it comes to me, like a bolt from the blue, when I need it.  I struggle with feeling adequate to the task.  I worry about taking too much responsibility, about giving too much responsibility, about not expecting enough, about expecting too much.  I strive to find a solid place to sand in a landscape that's always changing, child to child, minute to minute.  And I pray.

Living the Dream: Pool Mom

It's funny, there are so many milestones in parenting that sometimes I don't even realized when I've reached one until it's right there, in my face, and I'm caught by surprise.  Shopping for bras with my daughters was like that.  Today I had another, decidedly more pleasant, milestone moment.  I've become a pool mom.

For years, thirteen to be exact, I've envied those moms at the pool that sat quietly and undisturbed in their chairs, flipping through magazines and chatting.  Glistening and unhurried, they'd rise occasionally to take a dip in the pool or locate their children's heads bobbing happily above water surrounded by friends, laughing and playing.  Their children would come to them only for money or a dry towel and then they'd disappear for an undetermined period of time allowing their mother to return to her own relaxation.  To me, it was a blissful picture.

For the last thirteen years a trip to the pool has required the advanced planning and stamina mountain climbing expedition.  Getting floaties, towels, swimsuits, life jackets, sunscreen, sunglasses and snacks for everyone required what seemed like hours of preparation.  Even moving from the house to the car and from the car to the pool was a maneuver demanding persistence and constant vigilance.  Once at the pool, there was no resting for me because everyone needed me to "watch this" over and over and over again.  Even when I wasn't "watching this" I was still watching at least two out of four children to make sure they didn't drown.  Relaxation was not an option while at the pool.  I will admit that the benefit of a day at the pool was a quiet evening at home afterward when everyone was exhausted and I got my relaxation with a quiet dinner and early bedtime.

Today, all that changed.  I said, "Sure, we can go to the pool." and the only bathing suit I had to put on was my own.  All the towels I needed to take fit in one beach bag and no other items were required.  I carried the bag happily to the car.  The children were already in their seats, buckled and waiting.  Upon arrival, I happily sprayed everyone with sunscreen and settled on my chair with an audio book.  The children found their friends and scattered like waterbugs.  I kept a close eye on everyone but didn't feel that I needed to be within arms reach anymore.  I even enjoyed playing "watch this" for part of the afternoon.  I knew I'd truly arrived when the only time my children sought me out was to get permission to use the restroom and to see if I might be willing to pay for a slushee. 

I know there will be a lot of milestones with my children that I'll hold more dear; first smiles, first words, first steps, recitals, graduations, weddings.  Those, however, are all about them.  Being a pool mom is all about me and I'll savor it while I live the dream.

In Which I Choose a Topic and Get on with It: More Than A Sum of Our Parts

I began a new Bible study this morning.  It's a group study that meets for the next five weeks to watch a video series and take part in a small group discussion.  The topic is conversing with our daughters in ways that are meaningful about topics that matter.  What drew me to the study is that it deals with five intentional conversations that mothers should have with their daughters over and over and over again.  I like the idea that I can learn about these conversations and then reuse them for years and years.  I'm all about getting my value from my time and I figure ten hours to learn about something that I can reuse x3.  That's my kind of value.

I've attended other Bible studies at this particular church so I knew, generally, what to expect.  Coffee cups and carry in breakfasts are allowed.  No red drinks.  Bring your Bible.  Workbooks and pens will be provided.  Casual dress is fine.  Some is more casual than others.  Since the study is about talking with your daughters, I expected a room full of mothers and I wasn't disappointed.  The ages of mothers ranged from early twenties to early sixties. 

I'm guessing the early sixties mom was there to lend support and encouragement.  I suppose she could be there to evaluate her own performance in retrospect or to learn tips and hints she can pass on to her own daughter as her daughter begins raising the sixties mom's granddaughters.  Or maybe she was lonely and she figured that as a mother and a daughter she might enjoy sharing the time with others.

Truly, it's difficult to say why anyone else was in the class.  Our opening activity was to introduce ourselves, share the ages of our daughters and tell about our proudest parenting moment.  A question about proud parenting moments immediately creates a competition and sets up a serious challenge, especially in a group of churchy women.  If you really say something that made you proud, that's bad because pride is not a virtue.  You also have to limit the things that are pride worthy.  Is a sports achievement something that the group would consider worthy of pride?  Should it be the number of memory verses the child learned?  Or would personality traits be better suited for the right answer?  Do I share that I'm proud that my children play well together?  Or that they are kind?  It's always good to go for the laugh.  Telling a funny story about your child is an easy and effective way to avoid sharing a truly prideful moment.  Or you can fall back on "when I gave birth"  because really, who can argue with that?  Giving birth trumps just about anything.  It also ensures that no one else can trump you because everyone that's been in one of these Bible study groups knows that you can't pick the same proud moment (or whatever) that anyone else has shared. 

I would have rather heard why others were taking the class.  That would have at least given a feeling of solidarity with some of the other women.  Answers could have been focused on the topic at hand and served to create a feeling of comradery:  I want a better relationship with my daughters.  I don't want to screw my daughters up too badly.  I'm trying to do my best and figure I need all the help I can get.  I'm a daughter and I know I want to do a better job than my mother did.  There is much common ground to be found in that answer.  It's been my experience that creating common ground is important in this kind of Bible study.

After sharing who we are and what makes us proud, we chatted without purpose for about 20 minutes.  My husband left for Australia today.  I didn't have 20 minutes to chat with strangers, even if those strangers were friends I hadn't met yet.  I had prescriptions to pick up.  I had things to do.  On a good day, 20 minutes of undirected chatting with strangers would have been less than comfortable.  Today it was like fingers on a chalkboard.  I smiled.  I chatted.  I counted down the time and made lists in my head.  I checked out the other women.  I noticed hair, teeth, skin and clothing.  I watched mannerisms and listened to conversational styles.  I evaluated each on the friend to not friend scale.  I waited for the video presentation and my opportunity to move onto my list of things that needed to be done.

The video presentation was interesting.  It helped me look forward to completing the lesson and digging into these conversations that I'm to have with my daughters.  I will get my value from this lesson and I can see where there is value to be had.  I filled in all the blanks in my workbooks and made notes in my margins.  I felt great about getting on with it.  Then I read the first conversation starter for each small group after the video presentation:  Have you ever judged someone or shown favor based on appearance?  If so, what were the circumstances?

How unfair is a question like that?!  Especially when you've been given 20 pointless minutes in a room full of strangers.  Twenty minutes to create stories about each and every person at my table, weighing them on the scale of potential and judge them completely based on just a tiny bit more than a first impression.  I hate it when I'm trying to do something virtuous, like attending a Bible study even though my husband is leaving for Australia and I could have used the time in a thousand more productive ways, and it comes back to bite me in the butt by reminding me how desperately I deserve judgement.

I confessed my judgement to everyone at my table in an I'm-going-to-just-flat-out-admit-my-sin-and-dare-you-to-throw-a-stone way and found that I wasn't alone in my judging others.  I hadn't really thought that I was but it was nice that my table mates were willing to admit it.  We'd all been summing each other up, tallying the friend potential and making judgements.  Our lecture topic was "You are more than the sum or your parts".  Definitely a topic that I need to remind myself of when it comes to judging others.  Each and every person I meet is more than just what I see on the outside.  And really, even if they are only what I can see and judge, isn't that enough?  Doesn't the fact that each and every being on this planet is created by God demand my attention and respect and give me an excellent reason to postpone judgement?

I left the Bible study thinking about the last minute preparations for Rob's trip to Australia.  I also had a new awareness of the women around me.  I looked at them, not with judgment but with gratitude that there were so many that desired to glorify God in the relationship that they were building with their daughters.  We'd gathered on common ground. We were all mothers.  We were all daughters.  We were all women.  And over the next five weeks I think I'll find that judgement to be the most true and the one that matters most.

Winding Down

Our school year is coming to a close.  Officially we have three and a half days left.  Unofficially, I'm as terrified of the end as I was of the beginning.  What am I going to do with the time that won't be consumed with the focused effort of school work?  How am I going to convince them that all the fun, educational activities I've planned for the summer aren't really "school"?  What is summer going to be like for us?

I have dreams of the five of us learning to make pasta, pastries and all kinds of bread.  I picture us lounging on the hammock, reading Shakespeare aloud and listening to classical music.  I fantasize about learning to navigate using the stars and making our own maps using what we learn during our night time observations.  And then I take a deep breathe, open my eyes and look at  my real children and my real life.

Who knows what this summer will bring?  What I do know is that we have all been structured long enough and it's time to relax.  Yes, I have some plans and I'll follow through, but not for a bit and not in a militant way. I've spent much of this school year marching the kids toward the goals we'd set.  Completing the assignment, the curriculum, the designated number of days.  The learning was valuable but the attitude was sometimes frustrating (and frustrated).

 I hope to learn how to shepherd my children this summer, not march them.  My desire is to make plans that include them and then follow through in a way that proves enriching for all of us. I intend to invite them to set out with me and see where we go.  I can't wait to learn more about the stars and Shakespeare.  I am anxious to see where their interests will take them this summer.  Will they share my interest in astronomy and Shakespeare or set out on their own?  Will our activities follow a new and uncharted path between my ideas and theirs?  I have no idea what our time this summer will look like.  I do know that whatever we do, we will be spending time doing it together and that is what makes the time worthwhile.

Requirements May Change Without Notice

If you were interviewing for a job and were told that your job requirements might change without notice, you'd probably have the sense to leave the interview and never return.  How does it happen that reasonable people have, throughout time, signed on for a job with no real, set in stone parameters and have continued to do that job day in and day out?

Today, my job included cleaning up after two very lovely and very ill children.  My job also included teaching and entertaining two very lovely and very healthy children.  The real trick was trying to keep the lovely and sick children away from the lovely and well children and to do it without the benefit of sleep.  Unfortunately for me, everyone else was well rested.

It is probably a good thing that no one made me believe that there'd be days like today when my husband and I were discussing the wisdom of starting a family.  We had lots of reasons for and against children on our list.  Vomit was not included.  My ability to clean a zoo's worth of stuffed animals never entered the discussion.  My husband's inability to deal with vomit or stuffed animals never entered the discussion.  So many really relavent and crucial facts never entered the discussion.

We were clueless and we probably still are.  We have so much to learn as parents and so much of our children's lives to get through.  Every time I think I've got something under control, the next child or situation comes along and reminds me that I am clueless.  I think the biggest thing I've got going for me is that I entered into parenthood willingly.  In fact, I came into this club with enthusiasm and joy.  Even on days like today, I am able to remind myself that my children are worth every dirty towel I washed and garbage can I emptied.

Sometimes it's impossible to plan for life.  Sometimes you make your best plan and just hang on for the rough parts because the requirements for life and parenting may change without notice.