Monthly Archives: July 2012

Lessons From a Funeral

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Having kids, from time to time I’ve wondered, “when are they old enough to learn about death?”  Should I raise the subject with them?  Do I wait until they have questions?

My husband’s uncle recently died and instead of the “stay-cation” week we’d originally planned with trips to amusement parks and museums, we traveled out-of-state for the funeral.  While my husband was at the mall buying a new pair of dress slacks, I explained to the kids that our priority was the funeral, supporting Daddy and his family, and honoring the memory of Daddy’s uncle.  If there was any time for fun stuff, we’d try to work it in, but it was highly unlikely.

And, they got it.  They never once asked “how much longer?” or “can we leave now?”  They never once grumbled about missing the water park.  They stood tall and looked people in the eye and shook hands and whispered “sorry for your loss”.  And I learned that I didn’t need to worry about them.

We all learned a lot this week.  Not all lessons were positive.  We learned for example, that not all employers are compassionate.  My sister-in-law had to leave the reception early because she couldn’t be away from work any longer or she’d lose her job.  She cried.  Her son cried.  We cried.

But there were good lessons too.  We sat quietly in the funeral home and learned what is meant by somber reflection.  We watched the church fill and we learned what is meant by respected community leader.   We drove in a long line of cars moving slowly through busy intersections and we learned what is meant by respect.  We watched as two naval officers first played “Taps” and then folded an American flag with crisp military precision and slow measured timing and we learned what is meant by honor.   We learned that you don’t have to speak to comfort someone, just being present lifts their spirits.

Screaming Me Me

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What happened to the gold old days when “time out” or the mere mention of “time out” was enough to stop all squabbling, whining, temper tantruming, disobedience, and back talking?  Time out even worked on most dinner table disagreements excepting lima beans and Brussel sprouts — for my kids’ young palates, being sequestered for hours on end was worth it if it meant they didn’t have to finish those particular vegetables.

When our children were younger, I noticed a marked difference between my husband and I regarding how we approached discipline.  On the one hand, I thought my husband had the right idea.  At the first sign of disobedience he would intervene, making it clear to our children that were they to continue on their current chosen and obviously flawed course of action there would be consequences.  Very often dire consequences.  So, while I admired that he clearly made the kids masters of their own destiny; for example, “if you continue talking back, we won’t be going to the pool,” I often felt the punishment did not fit the crime.  Usually a loss of pool privileges was not what was at stake, rather we were not going to go on vacation if they didn’t pick up their room when told.  Not exactly a reasonable or realistic punishment.  But at least it was their choice, they were in control.  They were making a conscious decision to continue doing the bad wrong aggravating thing they were doing.  Another issue with my husband’s style was lack of follow through.  Let’s just say we never stayed home from vacation.

I, on the other hand, prided myself in being the enlightened parent.  My punishments were commensurate with the misdeed.  I was fair and balanced.  I gave the kids a chance to weigh in with what they thought was a reasonable punishment.  I was the poster child for every child rearing guru who ever had a best-selling book.  Or so I thought.

But the reality is that I wasn’t any of those things.  I was, and occasionally still am, a screaming me me (or is it screaming mi mi?).  And as far as helping the children learn when they had overstepped the boundaries between good and bad behavior, well, I didn’t actually help them that much.  See I thought I was even-keeled.  And I was up to a point.  And then, Boom!  Off the cliff!  They never saw it coming.  Out of nowhere from the depths of my being would erupt a ferocious “SSSTTTTOOOOOPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Lovely.  I’m so proud.

But they say self-awareness is the first step in recovery.  That and the kids growing older and wiser.

And with age, “time out” has turned into “time without”…when necessary (which is extremely rare) the threat of a loss of an electronic gadget privilege works wonders.

But as I said, the need to voice a warning has become increasingly infrequent.  At least someone in the family is maturing.

 

 

 

When Did She Become a Butterfly?

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This summer we’ve had an unusual number of weekend road trips.  And budgets being tight, we find our family squeezing into small hotel rooms on our journeys.  Which means…sharing a bed with my kids.  And by sharing, I mean clinging to a meager 6″ of bed hoping not to fall onto the dirty hotel floor or suffer a ruptured spleen from all the kick-boxing.

My younger daughter has always been a cuddler but not the older one.  And sharing a bed with my older daughter has made me acutely aware of exactly how many sharp parts she has.  Arms, legs, elbows, knees…they are all long, lean and well, sharp.

And so, the next morning, I am not in a particularly open-minded positive mood.  And at the free continental breakfast, after a long night of not sleeping, I’m thinking maybe she should sleep in a chair the next night.  But as she returns to the table with her juice and bagel, I suddently notice how truly beautiful she is.   Not sharp and pokey or selfishly stealing the covers.  But lovely with a warm smile that sends her dimples clear to the back of her head.  Graceful and caring, sweet, smart and strong.  And in that instant I am no longer tired, I am no longer cranky, I am no longer thinking we are never doing this again!

In that instant, I am counting my blessings that I’ve gotten to watch her transformation into a beautiful butterfly and that we’ve gotten to travel together this summer.

New Fun Family Road Trip Game…Guaranteed to Provide Hours of Fun!

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My husband recently replaced the GPS in his car, apparently the power cord snapped off the old one.  And apparently power is important.

Last weekend we were returning from a lacrosse tournament and used the voice activation option to find a restaurant.   And the fun began.

Now he’s originally from Chicago and I guess he’s got a bit of an accent but somehow “Find a restaurant” became “Do you want to go to the library?”  Okay, there are three syllables in both “restaurant” and “library” but that’s the only connection I could find.  While we gave up on Gidget’s assistance (we have named our GPS Gidget) fret not, we found sustenance using good old-fashioned road signs.

But as the hours wore on, when the kids would get a little feisty in the back seat, we’d turn to Gidget for more good clean fun.

Gidget’s best suggestions of the day were when we asked her to drive to our town’s Pizza place (we actually didn’t need her help to find it).  “Did you say the nearest 76?”  Really, is that gas station even still around?  Her second attempt to find the pizza parlor was to suggest directions to the Home Depot.

We were in a classic Saturday Night Live skit and loving every minute of it.  Of course, if we’d really needed her help it would have been a completely different story.

Nature vs. Nurture and the Lesson of the BMX Helmet

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So, before I begin this post — about my youngest daughter — it is important to note that I took the required science courses in High School and College but was Liberal Arts all the way, that is until B-School.

I recall the nature vs. nurture debates but never really gave it too much thought.  That is, until our youngest child started to grow into her unique personality.   The phrase “marches to a different drummer” must have been coined for this child.

From a very young age she has demonstrated her eclectic taste.  She likes Legos and puzzles and “army men” and science and magic and music and writes poetry.  Spelling and math facts are optional but she can build and assemble anything (she is less than 10 and has built benches and patio heat lamps and end tables).  And when she truly wants something, she is single-mindedly focused and annoyingly persistent in obtaining her heart’s desires.

When she was three years old, she was obsessed with guitars.  We got her the toy guitar for her birthday.  That worked for a while.  But the desire for a real guitar persisted.  At 7, we finally relented.  We got the guitar and signed her up for lessons.  She took three lessons and decided she had mastered the guitar and didn’t need to go back.  Yes, of course she was too young for guitar lessons.  But we still have the guitar and from time to time she jams…see above reference to her own drummer (or I guess her own guitarist).

Her current obsession is BMX.  She has wanted a BMX helmet for her bicycle for well, EVER.  She has worked all summer to earn money to purchase the helmet.  We looked at every website and every helmet available, looking for just the right combination of helmet design, size and price.  It took weeks and then we found it.  The Holy Grail of helmets.  Black with “sweet” red and white graffiti designs.  And with an extra benny…silver fins!  And, if we bought $10 more, shipping was free!  So, naturally I chipped in for the clear goggles that were $12 just so we could save on the shipping.

I’ve never actually tracked a package through the FedEx shipping option.    It hasn’t mattered too much whether a new pair of shoes or swimsuit or sweater or dishes arrived on Tuesday or Wednesday (unless of course it was a birthday present that I forgot to shop for/order until the day before).  It’s not hard.  It just never seemed necessary.  But believe me, over the last week, I have become a package tracking expert!  Every day has been a constant barrage of “Do you think helmet will arrive today?”  “I wonder if they will deliver the box today.”  “Maybe they shipped it early and it will arrive today.”  And I, with pin-point accuracy could tell her exactly where her package was.  I was POWERFUL!

Unfortunately, we were out-of-town when the package was to be delivered (sounds a bit like a Bourne Identity movie plot).  And we agonized about whether or not we should change the delivery date.  Or arrange to pick it up.  Oh, what should we do?  If it was delivered and left on the front porch, would someone steal it?  What was the risk that someone would steal it versus the excitement and enjoyment of having it waiting for her when we returned from our trip.

At the end of the day, we opted for near instant gratification.  Meaning we let them deliver the package so it would be waiting there for her when we got home from our trip.  We pulled into the driveway and as the car lights swung past the front porch, caught in the sweep of lights were not one but two packages.   Oh, the joy.  A big box with the helmet.  And a smaller package with the goggles.  We paused at the crest of the driveway and she jumped out of the car racing to the porch.  She came straight to the kitchen proudly carrying her well-earned bounty.

End of the story.  She loves this helmet.  And I must admit…it is pretty darn cool,  way better in real life.  But let me be clear…at present, she is not a BMXer.  We watch it sometimes on TV.  She does have a bike.  She’s been on a BMX track…once.  But 99.99% of the time, her bike riding is limited to our cul-de-sac.  Nevertheless, she loves this helmet.  She wore it all evening when it first arrived…unpacking, dishes, watching TV.  Not during dinner but every other minute until teeth brushing and bed time.  She has slept with it every nite.  She proudly made lunch the other morning wearing her helmet.   She takes it with her in the car.

Witnessing her enjoy this helmet has been nothing short of pure joy.

Which brings me back to my nature/nurture debate.  We have another daughter.  And when she was little it was all about princesses, and tutus, and Barbies, and pierced earrings.

And so, you might think like I did that it must be “nurture”…maybe with our first daughter I reinforced more of the female stereotypes.  But as I think about it and think about my girls, I’m actually landing on the “nature” side of the debate.

Why?  Because while their objects of desire are very different, in other more fundamental ways, they are very alike.  The single-minded dedication to a target goal is definitely the same for our two girls.  There was a time, when our older daughter kept her room in military precision-readiness every day all day for 6 weeks in order to earn pierced earrings.  And you can bet that on the exact day that ended the 6th week, we were on our way to the mall to get her ears pierced.  And if it had been possible to track the waiting line at the ear-piercing place, you can bet I would have been doing that up to the minute she sat in the chair and squeezed her eyes shut.