Self-care. Too much of a good thing?

Self-care is a bit of a buzz word in the parenting community these days.

Somehow I wonder if we might be overdoing it a little.  Like, maybe our definition of self-care might actually spill over into self indulgence.  The way some parents talk, you’d think that being parents is an inconvenience that can only be performed successfully if we can escape it on a regular basis.

The claim: I’m a better mother when I put myself first.  As in, when someone else does the most mundane work of parenting.  Or when I get to take tons of trips sans kids.  Or when I have my daily workout, meditation and latte before tackling anything to do with the little people I so desperately wanted to bring into the world.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely believe that denying oneself entirely in raising kids can bring about disastrous consequences.  In addition to being utterly depleted from the demands of bringing up children, we run the risk of resenting our roles and taking it out on our kids.  We also might foster entitlement in them if we sacrifice everything (even our own identities) on their behalf.  Yes, kids need to know that mom is a person, too.  I get that.

But it’s kind of a given that parenting is going to require loads of sacrifice.  Sometimes gut-wrenching sacrifice.  If you simply cannot cope unless your husband gives you a five-hour “break” every time he walks through the door, or you’ve spent hours and hours curled up with a good book, or you’re holding a plane ticket to Maui dated tomorrow, you might be missing the point.  And your kids are going to feel your disdain for what could/should be the most rewarding role you play.

I think there are a few ways we might be going a bit too far in the self-care arena (and the potential repercussions of doing so).

1.   Adult-only outings/excursions.

I’m not saying you and hubby can’t take a trip now and again to prioritize your relationship.  What I am saying is that if the combined total of your “adult time” far exceeds “family time”, you might be sending your kids the wrong message: we’d rather spend time without you than with you.

As a side note, we send this message in a number of ways, from being overly attached to our phones to being militant about our daily workouts but not so much about our daily affirmations.  We all have room for improvement.

How do we allocate our travel time?  Do we regularly ditch the kids at home to vacation with others and leave nothing in the travel budget for them? How must they feel if you spend that precious time off work to “getaway”?  From them.

If you can afford it, take a few trips here and there.  Show your kids that you and your husband still love each other.  Just balance it out with family time so your kids can feel reassured that they’re not merely an inconvenience but a vital, joyful part of your family.  After all, we only get them for eighteen years.  And so that you can make lasting memories to carry you through the not-so-fun parenting moments.

2.  Our hobbies.

Maybe it’s golfing.  Perhaps it’s scrapbooking.  It’s possible you need a daily dose of yoga.  The keyword is “dose”.  Not overdose.

It’s important for our children to recognize that their parents are people, too.  That we have talents and interests apart from being mom or dad.  The problem arises when said interests encompass excessive time that could otherwise be spent fostering family relationships.

When my oldest was a baby, I can remember devouring the Harry Potter series(what had been published at that point, that is) in one fell swoop.  She was lucky to get a diaper change on those days.  Much as I enjoyed reading, I admit I pretty much felt like a loser.  Because I had neglected my child to do something I wanted.  To an excessive degree.

I set some goals to put off reading until my kids were either napping or in bed for the night.  Kind of like my little treat for keeping everyone alive that day.  Now my kids know that they come before Harry Potter and I get to keep my sanity.  Win-win.

3.  Special occasions.  Birthdays, especially.

I turned forty just under a year ago.  Everyone knows that birthdays…well, birthdays change a little when you become a parent.  It’s no longer YOUR day (if it ever was).  This last birthday was no exception.  Three of my children were home sick from school.  The one that was healthy still had to be shuttled to/from her dance class.

Top it off with the fact that our ward Relief Society scheduled an event for that night and asked the young women to provide babysitting.  Guess who was Young Women president and got to provide babysitting because not a single young woman signed up to help out?  (To be fair, one of the young women showed up last minute so I got to attend the event and eat a delicious slice of cake, which I pretended had been made especially for me).

One of my friends was shocked that I would tolerate having to render service on my birthday.  She admitted that she expects nothing short of pampering from her loved ones when her birthday rolls around.

The point is, birthdays are less than magical as a parent.  We can demand that our spouses break their backs trying to make it special for us and whine when our big day doesn’t turn out as anticipated.  Because it rarely does.  Or we can graciously receive each kind gesture and find joy in the ordinary.  I choose the latter.

I don’t have a problem with politely requesting a certain birthday cake or dinner from my family.  I usually remind Tim to help the kids learn to make me feel special.  But not because I need it.  Because THEY need to feel the joy of serving others.

Which kind of brings me back to my final point.  Parenting is selfless.  It’s kind of unavoidable.  Though I would never suggest that we let our kids walk all over us, or that we become martyrs under the false notion that doing so defines us as a good parent, I do believe that many parents could do better in the “adulting” department.

There’s a fine line between self-care and entitlement.  If we spend an inordinate amount of time on ourselves we cross that line, setting ourselves up to be disappointed at our insatiable desire for so-called self-care.  And we set up our children to do the exact same thing.

Best read-aloud books for middle readers.

Upon the recommendation of a dear friend of mine, I recently read The Read-Aloud Handbook.  Apparently, it is standard reading fare for anyone involved in early childhood education.  For me, it was one big validation of what I have intuitively known (and done) for years with my kiddos.

The statistics regarding reading aloud to our children are undeniable.  Studies link reading to a variety of benefits not limited to academic success.

Jack perusing our ample picture book library.

Having said that, parents sometimes drop the habit of reading to their children once they learn to read on their own. Consequently, parents and children miss out on some key benefits of shared reading.

Personally, I continue reading to my older children (up to and including my almost-15-year-old) for the following reasons:

1. One-on-one time.  I fail to find any activity that is as cheap and easy as carving out time to read aloud to a child. Each of my children gets one night a week to join me in my bed with a carefully-selected age-appropriate book. It sends a message that he/she matters.

 

2.  Good modeling.  What better way to demonstrate that reading is enjoyable than by doing it together?  If parents choose to spend precious time reading with their children, they can rest assured that their children will eventually catch the bug.

 

3.  Exposure to otherwise overlooked literature.  I’m skeptical that with the plethora of  new series of books that my kids would self-select classics such as Anne of Green Gables or Little Women.  When mom(or dad) chooses the book, you can guarantee that your child will read something not previously on his/her radar.

 

4.  Valuable life lessons for parent AND child.  Some of my best parenting conversations were sparked by stories read in bed with my kids.  Good literature has a way of highlighting universal human experiences and opening a conversation for how one might deal with them.  These tender teaching moments shape and mold our children’s characters, as well as build relationships of trust between parent and child.

 

I can remember an experience in the past year while reading with my oldest that was particularly poignant to me.  We encountered in our reading a mother who was tenderly teaching her daughter how to control her impulses to anger.  The mother did so lovingly and without judgment, which was in sharp contrast to what I had done with this very daughter just one day earlier.

Reading this account choked me up a bit, and we both knew that I could have done better.  I humbly asked for my daughter’s forgiveness and healed this breach in our relationship.  Had we not been reading together, I dare say we would have missed an invaluable opportunity to share vulnerability, love and forgiveness.

Although I don’t profess to have read so extensively that I can give a comprehensive list of the best read-alouds, here are a few that we have particularly enjoyed as a family.  My top criteria are quality of writing, exposure to classic themes, and, for practical reasons, chapter length (a single chapter can be read aloud in a half-hour or less).

I have read each of these with at least one of my daughters and they are listed in no particular order.

  1.  The Chronicles of Narnia
  2. Anne of Green Gables (and the rest of the series)
  3. The Secret Garden
  4. Moon Over Manifest by Clare Vanderpool
  5. Little Women
  6. The Giver
  7. Harry Potter series (the chapter rule does not apply here-these chapters are LONG)
  8. Out of my Mind by Sharon Draper

While reading these books, we’ve laughed together, cried together, and strengthened the mother-daughter bond immeasurably.  Oh, how grateful I am for the power of good books!

For a broader list of great read-aloud books and/or extra motivation to read them with your children, check out The Read-Aloud Handbook by Jim Trelease.

(Several of the above links are affiliate links, which means that if you click through and purchase any of the recommended products, I will, at no extra cost to you, receive a small commission).

40 is the new…50?

I turned forty last year.  Tim threw me a delightful party with friends and indulged me in some of my favorites-pizza, chocolate, and a promise to take me to New York once our house was paid off (which actually happened 7 months later).

Turning forty wasn’t a huge deal for me.  Maybe having a one-year-old gave me a false sense of youth.  I’m still in my child-bearing years-I must be young!

And then the gray hairs started coming in.  I know, I should count myself lucky that it took this long.  Most of my friends have been dyeing their hair for years.  They probably assumed I was too.

It’s funny, cause I’ve always taken a measure of pride in my lack of vanity.  I’ve never spent much time on my appearance-my clothes, my hair, my makeup.  Most days I roll out of bed, clean my face and brush my hair and teeth and call it good.  If I left the house, I’d take it up a notch by throwing on some eyeliner.  And a bra.  Maybe.

But that’s just not cutting it anymore.  I thought I wasn’t vain but now that I’m starting to look my age, dyeing my hair doesn’t seem so bad.  I sorta get why the beauty industry is worth $265 billion dollars.  My share of it just might increase this year.  (From like $50 to $100 tops).

If I’m really honest, though, I don’t want to care.  Because my worth has nothing to do with my appearance.  I realize most everyone knows that. But do our actions reflect it?

I remember standing in front of my bathroom mirror one time when my girls were still little. I was applying a bit of makeup, probably in preparation for a date with my hubby.  Anna asked, as only a young girl can, “Mom, why are you putting that stuff on your face?”

I didn’t know what to say.  I probably mumbled something lame about having to cover up a zit(whoever said those would go away in adulthood was a big, fat liar).

Her response: “But why?”  I might have muttered a few words about wanting to look pretty for dad.  What I DO remember is how pointless makeup seemed while trying to explain its purpose to my 8(ish) year-old daughter.

I mean, was I really trying to impress Tim?  He sees me without makeup all the time and still loves me.  And, as a side note, some studies have shown that men prefer make-up on the light side rather than a more done-up look on women.

I certainly don’t think there’s anything wrong with looking one’s best.  I buy new clothes, style my hair (once in a blue moon) and wear makeup at least half the time.  I realize there is a level of personal satisfaction that comes from feeling attractive.  I’m not sure where that comes from and I’m dubious that I should cave to the pressure of that voice in my head.

Because let’s face it.  We’re all going to get old someday.  My boobs are gonna sag (already do), wrinkles will take over, age spots and gray hairs will multiply.  How much time and money am I willing to spend to stem the tide of aging?  And, more importantly, what message am I sending to my sweet daughters about the importance of my appearance through my own actions?

I don’t know if I have the answer.  What I do know is there’s a balance to be found, and I fear that our society places far too much emphasis on physical beauty.  I personally hope to set an example for my girls that steers them away from that focus.

And judging by the fact that we forget school picture day almost every year, I think it might be working.

 

Fancy gift wrap and happy birthdays.

Here’s one of many examples of how presentation rests rather low on my list of priorities:

I couldn’t care less about wrapping paper.  I can appreciate a well-wrapped present, when someone else does it.  But when it comes to wrapping my own, I’d just as soon use up a few old scraps to avoid the waste.  My practical side wins out just about every time.  On the other hand, I let Jack assist me in this particular package, resulting in several errant pieces of Scotch tape.  So much for avoiding waste.

Lily didn’t seem to mind, as she tore open present after present in celebration of her thirteenth birthday.  Another teenager in the house…I’m still bracing for impact.

She spent a rather ordinary day at school, went home with a friend to watch her very first PG-13 movie (yep, we hold the line at our house right up until they turn the ripe old age of 13), and we joined together in the evening for cake and ice cream and presents.  Where I lack in gift-wrapping I more than make up for in dessert-making.  This particular beauty has become the dessert du jour at our house.

It’s been requested three times in the last year, making it our most popular model of birthday cake to date.  Pretty labor-intensive too.  Nothing says I love you like a five-layer chocolate peanut butter cheesecake, two days in the making.  (The irony of it all is that I’m currently on a refined sugar hiatus so I didn’t eat so much as a smidgen of the delicacy.)

Thirteen is a big year in our house, yielding some major benefits including a new email address, access to one social media platform, a new checking account and permission to view PG-13 movies (Lily’s personal favorite).  Hopefully Lily will assume her new “responsibilities” with wisdom and prudence.  We shall see.

Lily is an easy one to celebrate.  She never fails to express gratitude for even the small things so gift-giving is an absolute joy.  For each birthday, we all take turns telling the birthday girl (or boy) one of our favorite things about her/him.  I told Lily that I adore how she find the silver lining in everything.  For instance, I couldn’t get up to make her birthday breakfast this morning.

Literally, I couldn’t get up.  I developed a crazy crick in the neck the night before and it pretty much disabled me for almost 24 hours.  Tim was tactful enough to suggest that it was age-related.  Humph.

Anyway, my point is, Lily relegated herself to pouring a bowl of cereal without complaint.  She rarely gets ruffled when plans change and is quick to find something with which to console herself.  This morning it was Lucky Charms, no doubt.

I love that resilience and I hope it carries her through her teenage years.  And well beyond.  Happy Birthday Lily!

How to be a Toddler-Whisperer.

Toddlers are my all-time fave.  Sure, they’re loud, they speak unintelligibly, they won’t sit still for longer than fifteen minutes (if you’re lucky), and they wreak havoc in your otherwise tidy home.  Still, they are so easy to please if you can just tap into what makes them tick.  Here are my top ways to tame a toddler:

  1.  Be silly.  There’s no room for poise when there’s a toddler in the house.  Give into your ridiculous side and watch the magic work.  My favorite way to do this is through music.  Grab a few of your favorite tunes and boogie to your heart’s content.  Swing your kid around, throw them up in the air a bit.  Your toddler will thank you…and perhaps your waistline will too.  Burning a few calories never hurt anyone.  Some of my favorite kids CD’s are the following because physical activity and silliness are written into the lyrics.  Anything Hap Palmer, but So Big and Rhythms on Parade contain the best, in my opinion.  And Jim Gill’s 20th Anniversary Edition.  Some songs require props like musical instruments, sticks, bean bags or stuffed animals but those are easy to pick up.  We have a musical instrument set, similar to this one on Amazon, which has lasted for 10 years.
  2. Let them have it their way, already.  Carve out extra time to get to and from places, because we all know that  the little munchkin is going to insist that he put on his own socks and shoes.  And turn the inside car lights on/off over and over before settling into his seat.  And that he’ll want to buckle his own seatbelt (wait, what?).  Just be flexible.  If you’re not in a hurry all the time, you can indulge the kid in his/her whims so that he feels validated.  They eventually get over this phase, you know.  (Granted, while the older girls are in school, I only have one kid to tow around so this is easy for me to say. Still, I’m always surprised by how well older kids accommodate their difficult siblings.)
  3. Master the art of distraction.  My toddler has serious issues with diaper changes, among other things.  He will not stay still to save his life.  This is problematic with his brittle bones because manhandling him just might break him.  So I distract him by asking him questions, gently tickling his legs to calm him down, or having small toys on hand to interest him.  When I gave birth to four of my five children without an epidural, I survived only by learning how to think of something other than my pain.  Relieve your child’s pain (perceived pain, obviously) through distraction.  Have tricks up your sleeves at all times.  Songs, games, food, whatever it takes.  When all else fails, let him play with your phone for a few minutes.  (But don’t play that trump card often or it will cease to be a trump card.)
  4. Two words: sensory play.  Playdough, rice, beans, ooey-gooey-sticky-smelly stuff.  Toddlers love it.  Parents hate it.  Sensory play is a tool parents can wield to keep your child occupied for untold amounts of time.  Not only that, but toddlers experience a wide variety of benefits with sensory play.  Cause and effect, fine motor skills, stress relief.  Throw together a few bins to stimulate your child’s senses and rotate through them periodically.  Or just let your kid play in the sink every once in a while.  I recently threw together a bean bin as per these instructions and a rice bin (colored rice recipe here) to supplement our already ample playdough supply.  I bought a few dump trucks at a thrift store as well as some measuring cups and funnels and voila!  Cheap thrills.
  5. Get them outside.  This is a no-brainer.  And I realize that in some climates it’s easier said than done.  Where I live, it’s the dead of winter right now, so our options are limited.  Nevertheless, my kid would go crazy if his world consisted only of what lies between the four walls of our home.  So we get out.  Library story times are a fantastic option.  Museums are pretty awesome, too, though more expensive.  Brave the grocery store with your little beast(s).  Take a walk.  Each of these is an opportunity to expose your child to the wonder of the world and to interact with them on a grander scale.  During the summer your options are endless, but even during colder seasons, just do it.

Creation or big bang

Yesterday during Sunday School we discussed the Creation.  It always boggles my mind that scientists who deal day in and day out with the creations of our Heavenly Father fail so often to see His hand in it. The idea that God’s handiwork is simply a byproduct of a huge cosmic explosion and that we humans evolved from primordial soup makes me chuckle.

But then, I’m sure that my faith in a supreme being elicits a similar reaction from them.

In class, we watched this video and discussed the three accounts of the Creation to better understand whose work it was, what was done and why it was necessary.  One point that really hit home to me during this particular discussion was that God did not simply wave a magic wand to create the cosmos.  Matter existed in the first place.  Matter that needed only to be organized in a fashion that would fulfill God’s purposes to bless His children.

Now where that matter originated and who “created” it in the first place is a question to which I have no answer.  Still, I got hung up on the word “organize”.

You see, as a homemaker this makes perfect sense to me.  The idea that homes don’t create themselves.  They don’t just “happen”.  They take work, just as the home created by our Heavenly Father (the earth we live on, among other things) took work.

I’m always telling my kids: “We don’t live in a self-cleaning house.”  Or, “those socks aren’t going to pick themselves up”.  Entropy is real in my home.  Not only that, it’s a scientific principle.

All things will gradually descend into a state of disorder.  Unless.  Unless there is work.  Work performed by One who loves us enough to give us life and purpose despite our failure to recognize His hand in it all.

Just as my kids will never acknowledge the massive amounts of dirty socks I’ve picked up over the years.  Not that that even comes close but, well, you get the point.  Entropy is inevitable without someone to do the work.

Why are we so quick to buy into the idea that the magnificence of our earth, with all its beauty and order, its precise location in the solar system, its ability to sustain life for billions of people (and billions more creatures) is just dumb luck?

All things denote that there is a God.  Every time I see a magnificent sunrise, or listen to gentle raindrops of a long-awaited high desert rainstorm I feel like God is sending me little love notes.  Like He’s reminding me that His hand is over all, that He loves and watches over His children, just as I do mine.

I’m grateful for my faith.  For the underlying understanding that life on earth is simply an opportunity to prove ourselves.  I’m grateful to know who I am, a daughter of Heavenly parents, who love me and give me ample reminders of that love in the world that surrounds me.  It is glorious.  Life is glorious.

 

Fridays are for keeping it real.

One of my fears in blogging is that I will aspire to a sort of public persona, one that falsely portrays me as having it all together.  In selecting material for my blog, it’s easy to skip over the mundane and jump right to the noteworthy.  Problem is, as a mom, most of what we do is not particularly significant on the surface.

Think about it.  When a husband walks in the door at the end of the day and poses the question, “what’d you do today?”, how does a mom respond?

I kick it off with a big fat “Ummmm…”  Because whether I’ve been out running errands or in running the household, none of what I did makes the cut as “spectacular”.  Or even interesting, really.  Like 95% percent of the time.  Motherhood is not, nor will ever be quantifiable.

But if I were to add up the laundry loads, the number of times I swept the floor, or picked up dirty socks, or applied a bandaid, or read a story, or sang a song, or held a hand, or assembled a puzzle, or prepped a dinner, or volunteered in a school class, or gave a reminder, or any number of things that fill my days, I would see that the mundane are simply building blocks for the extraordinary.  I’m raising humans, peeps.

If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t be doing it day in and day out.

But since enumerating thankless tasks does not a blog post make, I mostly churn out content that either I want to record for posterity or that will hopefully be of benefit to someone.  Family systems that work, art lessons, fun family vacations, special occasions in our lives, etc.

To avoid portraying an inaccurate public persona, I hope to dedicate a blog post here and there to the average day.  The boring, the unremarkable.  Quintessential motherhood moments.  Like this:

Yep, that’s Vaseline.  All over his legs, clothes, arms, hair and my bathroom floor.

To my credit, I’m smart enough not to keep it in his room, something I could not say 15 years ago, when his older sister Anna did the exact.same.thing.  Yes, in her bedroom.  She covered a lot more ground because it was “quiet time” so I left her pretty much unsupervised for at least an hour and a half.  A toddler can inflict a whole lot of damage in that time.

It took me four days to get it out of her hair.

Okay, it just occurred to me that maybe this little anecdote does qualify as remarkable.  Just not in the way we mothers might want.  This is the stuff motherhood is made of.  Day in and day out.  Who wouldn’t want this job?

Baby girl turns nine.

For odd birthdays in our family, the birthday girl (or boy, as the case may be) chooses a favorite restaurant for dinner.  Eve was adventurous this year (not to mention a little spendy) and invited us all out to a Japanese steakhouse.

It was our most expensive meal to-date.  (Then again, we don’t go out to eat much).

All the kids considered it a huge treat-even Jack was engaged, yelling “Fire! Fire!” every time he saw a grill light up. Even our “picky” eater appreciated the experience and ventured outside her comfort zone to try fried rice and catch grilled shrimp in her mouth.  It almost made me consider investing in a hibachi simply to get her to eat her vegetables.

Eve herself was delighted by the whole thing.  Then we headed back home for cake, ice cream and presents.   She’s our non-chocolate lover, so I’m sure she was thrilled to indulge in rainbow chip cake with sprinkles on top and birthday cake ice cream.  All of her presents were a hit, which is actually somewhat surprising since she kept amending her wish list right up until the day before her birthday, and long after all the presents had been ordered, shipped and wrapped.

As per our tradition, we each took a turn sharing one thing we love about Eve.  It was not difficult to come up with honest compliments for this sweet girl of ours.  She’s bright, generous, a ball of energy, an expert harmonizer, a loving snuggler, an incessant talker, a creative genius and so much more.

What a difference she makes in our family.  Happy ninth birthday to my baby girl!

If these are your reasons for homeschooling, you might want to reconsider.

Teaching my kids is my favorite part of being a mother.   I take pride in the fact that each of my children learned to read well before kindergarten.  (If I’m really honest, I’ll acknowledge the fact they are geniuses and that their learning to read didn’t have much to do with me after all).  Selfishly though, I wanted to be part of that pivotal moment in their lives.

I also set up a mother’s cooperative preschool and taught each of my daughters consecutively for a grand total of eight straight years.  I adore preschoolers (especially those I get to call my own).  I considered it a blessing to play a role in their early childhood education.

Granted, ALL mothers participate in their children’s education, but somehow being their “teacher” fulfilled me in a way that would not have been satisfied had I sent them to a traditional preschool.

I’ve rubbed shoulders with plenty of homeschooling moms over the years and most of the ones I know deserve the utmost respect.  Spending all day every day focused on the education of your children is no joke.  (Arguably, I focus on my children’s education as a stay-at-home mom…although mine attend public school so I get a much longer prep period.  😉

I strongly considered the homeschooling route for my kids.  A variety of pros and cons tugged at me.  Ultimately, some half-truths presented by some individuals in the homeschooling community led to my decision to enroll my kids in the local elementary school.  Here are a few reasons to homeschool that turned me off in particular.

You are your child’s best teacher.  Well…yes and no.

It makes me cringe to hear homeschooling parents say things like, “I want to participate in all aspects of my kids’ learning.” Or, “I am the one most qualified to teach my children because I know them best”.  It reeks of insecurity.

My daughter Rachel volunteered to make scrambled eggs this morning as part of her sister Eve’s birthday breakfast.  She asked my permission to make the eggs “grandma’s way”.  Was I offended that she liked grandma’s way better than the one I had taught her?  Was it disappointing to discover that my efforts to teach the art of scrambled eggs was lost on her?  Did I feel underappreciated that she credits my mother for being the inspiration behind her desire to make scrambled eggs when she only had to show her the one time?

There was a time when I might have been.  Not anymore.  Why?  Because the end result is that my eleven-year-old has finally learned to enjoy cooking.   Shame on me if I am jealous because someone else inspired my kid in a way that I couldn’t.  Seriously.

I believe that it was no mistake that my kids ended up in our family.  I love the assurance that comes from knowing that God designed our family as He did because, in His wisdom, He knew that Tim and I had talents that would bless the lives of our children (and vice versa).

Having said that, I also subscribe to the idea that raising children takes a village.  I am my kids’ first and most important teacher, but I am not their only teacher.  Heaven forbid.  Therapy sessions all around.

My heart swells with gratitude for the community of parents and teachers that enrich my children in a variety of ways.  Gosh, what would parenting be like without grandparents, good neighbors and friends, and school and church teachers to support us in our efforts?  I am not so prideful as to think that I could do better than all of us put together.

Here’s another one:  Your child will learn at a faster rate in a homeschooling environment.  Possibly.  There are certainly studies and statistics to support the theory.  But at what cost?  And are academics the only measurement of a successful education?

As I mentioned earlier, I taught my kids to read before kindergarten.  It wasn’t hard.  I pretty much introduced them to basic phonics and threw in a few sight words and they were off and running.

They have continued to excel in school, despite even the best efforts of the public school system to stifle learning.  I kid.  But only slightly.  I’m fairly confident that, had their days been spent in a more concentrated environment at home with my undivided attention(ha!), they’d probably be graduating high school at age 14.

However, when I initially contemplated homeschooling, I came to the conclusion that what my kids needed most was not to be the best and the brightest in reading, writing and arithmetic.  They needed to develop empathy, discover how to get along with difficult people, and exercise patience with the most  annoying among them.  I could not provide those experiences, not in the way a public school setting would.

And, let’s be honest, some things have to be learned through experience.  Hard experiences.  Obviously there are extremes against which we should protect our kids…like abuse in all forms.   Those are NOT experiences to which I want my kids exposed.

However, I dare say public school in my suburban community will provide bounteous opportunities for my kids to interact with students and teachers from a wide variety of backgrounds while protecting them from some of the grittier possibilities found in public schools elsewhere.  It’s a chance I’m willing to take so my children can gain wisdom and experience.  Not at the expense of academics but in addition to.

Another reason people cite for taking the homeschooling route is this:  Your child won’t be subjected to “playground politics” and “worldly philosophies”.  Maybe not.  For eighteen years.  And then what?  Their homogeneous existence will be left vulnerable to those very undesirables when they leave the nest.  Except that those “playground politics” will involve far more than the tricks a relentless fifth-grade bully could come up with.  Will kids be prepared for the inherent temptations and risks associated with college/young adult life if they’ve lived an insulated existence for the eighteen years leading up to it?

Participate in a homeschooling co-op, you say?  Sign them up for extra-curricular activities?  Yes, that will provide contrast to the potential isolation of exclusive home learning.  It will also ensure that children are exposed to a variety of teaching/coaching styles.  Truly, there are many benefits to such an arrangement.

My only beef with homeschooling co-ops is that they, too, are homogeneous environments.  They are created by like-minded individuals with similar goals and backgrounds.

It’s like people who grow up in and never leave New York City and can’t wrap their brains around how someone can actually be a conservative.  Or people who live in Utah County and think that only “bad” people smoke or drink.  Certainly, it does not happen in all cases.  But it does happen.  And it’s simply a result of an unintentional indoctrination in certain beliefs and ideas when an environment lacks diversity in one or more areas.

Also, many homeschooling forums to which I’ve subscribed express utter disdain for public school and those who choose that option.  It’s an arrogance that I can neither tolerate nor to which I wish to subject my children.  For example:

Surely there’s enough goodness in the world that we can live in it but not be of it.  Within reason, our children should witness some of the bad in the world as well, feel the difference and seek the good.

I may not trust whole-heartedly in the public school system, but I do trust in the process of allowing our children the privilege of learning at the feet of a variety of adults.  I also acknowledge that development of the entire person supersedes academic achievement and feel that homeschooling sometimes (but not always) stifles that.  And finally, my experience with a good chunk of homeschooling families makes me question whether insulating my kids from the “horrors” of public school is really best for them after all.

When it comes right down to it,  each of us gets to decide what is best for our children.  Hopefully we are advocating for them and not motivated by our insecurities or misconceptions.  It is best to be aware of the flaws in certain arguments for homeschooling(and against, for that matter) before pursuing one course of action. Though there are plenty of sound arguments for homeschooling, the ones listed above are short-sighted, and simply don’t apply across the board.

Ironically, though I chose the traditional school path for my four daughters, I am strongly considering homeschooling my youngest, special needs son.  I will go in with an open mind and, hopefully for the right reasons.  In the process, I hope to mitigate some of the weaknesses in homeschooling while capitalizing on its many strengths.  Wish me luck.

A new approach to goal-setting.

Out with the old, in with the new.  My new approach to goal-setting.

Experienced organizers recommend never buying something new without throwing something out.  Acknowledging that this is a first-world problem, I agree whole-heartedly with this advice.  I consistently comb through my closets and drawers, discarding items sitting relatively unused.  Clutter weighs us down.

If stuff is crowding out our lives, we would do well to have less stuff.  Take one look at my garage and you’d have a hard time believing I feel this way but, after all, I share a house with six other humans, only a few of whom appreciate decluttering as I do.  #2018goals

The same principle applies to our time.  Perhaps it’s even more critical to “declutter” when it comes to time because it is a finite resource.  My four-car garage can host an infinite supply of junk but each of us only has 24 hours in each day.  Certainly we all seek to use it wisely.  But we don’t.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery (author of beloved story The Little Prince) wrote: “Perfection is achieved not when there is nothing more to add but when there is nothing left to take away.”

In other words, we improve our lives not just by adding in wholesome pursuits but by ridding ourselves of the less-worthwhile ways in which we spend our time.  Sometimes it takes a lot of pondering to achieve this.  It’s not as if most of us are wasting our lives away in riotous living.  I can safely say that anyone who even attempts setting goals is likely at the point of life where he/she must discard some of the “good” things in life for those that are “better” or “best”.

So this is my new approach to goal-setting this year: Out with the old, in with the new.  Not just new…better.

First, I began by brainstorming a few of the things I want to be.  Once I identify what I want to become, I can better evaluate my goals to ensure that they are contributing to that end.

Second, I evaluated what I could do to simplify my life, to buy me more time to accomplish new goals.  I didn’t write this one down, but I was recently released as the Young Women President in our ward.  I LOVED working with the young women in our congregation but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t monopolize my every waking hour.  With a new, less demanding calling, I suddenly have time to do the things I’ve put off for the last three years.  Happy New Year to me!

Sometimes we have to dig deep to find ways to simplify our lives.  Occasionally, the sacrifices are painful.  One year, our family eliminated all extra-curricular activities.  It was a risky move because all of our kids were progressing in various sports and activities.  But we experienced the benefits we anticipated and then some.  Totally worth it.

Next, I set some measurable goals and categorized them into daily, weekly, monthly and annual goals.  I kept my “what I want to be” sheet handy so I could make sure that each of my goals fit in those parameters.  Most people recommended limiting your goals to 7-10 at a time so that success is more attainable.  I have a few more than that, but since there’s a bit of crossover in the long-term aim of those goals, I’m calling it good.

Every month, I intend to map out the specifics of my goals onto a worksheet that I can display.  For instance, for my annual goal of reading twenty books, I will pick out the exact titles of two books for that month.  Or, for my goal of inviting 1-2 families over for dinner one Sunday a month, I will pick out the specific families to invite.  When possible, I will put it on the calendar.  Otherwise it won’t happen, let’s be honest.  By doing this, I am regrouping on a monthly basis to stay consistent on working toward my goals.  AND, I’m allowing for inspiration and flexibility in the specifics of those goals to ensure that the means meet the ends.  Here’s my worksheet for January:

I intend to display these on a bulletin board in my room as a constant reminder of what I’m trying to accomplish.  Each month’s page has a quote about goal-setting to inspire me to press on.  Between that and google calendar, I should have no trouble remembering.  Right?

I also have a chart for daily goals that will help me keep track of how well I’m keeping up on those.

If any of these methods resonate with you, feel free to use my Goal-Setting worksheets.