parenting

Everything I need to know I learned at McDonald’s. Or Subway, as the case may be.

Almost a year ago, we told our eldest daughter she needed to get a “real” job. You know, a typical teenage gig at McDonald’s or something.

She had been teaching piano for almost two years out of our home, for which I was incredibly proud. And, heaven knows it pays far better than any fast food position.

However, there are some things one can only learn from a minimum wage job. The first being that one should develop a trade and get an education so that s/he is not relegated to minimum wage for the rest of one’s life.

Our biggest reason for wanting Anna to experience this rite of passage in life, however, was not necessarily typical. We just wanted her to do it because of how terrified she was of the entire process.

You see, Anna is pretty amazing at a whole lot of things. She excels in school (straight A’s for her entire school career), she’s an excellent test-taker (35 on the ACT, anyone?), she commits herself to living with integrity, she is a wicked good musician… I could go on and on.

And while I am SO proud of her and the fact that she strives for excellence in so many areas, I know that we build resilience by stepping out of our comfort zones. And one thing that is NOT comfortable for Anna? The art of applying for a job in customer service. And then working one.

There was no coercion. (It took her a year, after all). Just an explanation of the life skills she’d glean from the experience. And…a pulling of the plug on all financial support for extra-curriculars and such. Just so she could feel a little pinch.

And now she has a job at Subway. Her first few shifts were rough and she wanted to quit. But I held my ground and told her she could quit only if she had first secured another job.

It’s strange, but I’m almost more proud of her for this accomplishment than I am that she got a full-tuition scholarship to BYU. Why on earth? Because of how desperately hard it was for her.

Then, after a six-month stint making sandwiches, she’ll be well-equipped to apply for another “real job” working at BYU laundry. Or something like that.

The future is bright, Anna. The future is bright.

The blue dress.

It’s no secret that I like my toddlers more than more teenagers. Emphasis on the word “like”. Toddlers are just so much more agreeable, and even when they’re not, they boast a whole lot of cuteness to make up for it.

Still, I would have to say that I firmly believe that opposition spices up life. My struggle to raise teenagers and still “like” them provides the contrast I need to swell with pride at their successes. I can’t help but be their biggest fan.

Last night, Anna put on the “blue dress” for the first time. The blue dress isn’t just a pretty get-up, it is a symbol. A symbol that one has attained the highest level of choral excellence in our local high school. (Which pretty much has the best choir in the whole state).

Last night was her first concert wearing the “blue dress”. I’ve been attending these concerts for years in support of neighbors, young women I taught at church and so on. Anna came with me on many of those occasions. It surprised me how much pride I felt in my daughter, hearing her high soprano voice sailing above the others now that it was her turn to don the blue dress on that same stage.

The volatility of raising teenagers is real. But the satisfaction at observing their transformation into distinct almost-adults tops it a million times over. Watching them come into their own and magnify their talents is a parental privilege that for me defies description.

Toddlers and Teenagers.

I stepped out of church this morning with my three-year-old. We were knee-deep in a power struggle and the volume had escalated enough to warrant a cool-down session in the foyer.

I sat down in a chair and calmly explained to Jack that if he could sit on my lap quietly for two minutes, we could return to the chapel to sit with our family.

He wasn’t having it. We ended up outside the building to minimize witnesses to the tantrum that was unfolding. Quickly.

On my way out, a friend remarked, “Be strong, mama. I was there once.” I laughed out loud, thinking to myself. Yeah, me too.

In fact, I’ve been there for 16 years (almost without interruption), my dear. She was trying to be supportive, and I appreciated the gesture. But I couldn’t help but find the humor in a mom who is two years younger than me reminding me to “be strong”.

You see, this toddler thing. I’ve got it down. Sure, I was inconvenienced that I was missing my 14-year-old’s talk because the 3-year-old thought it would be a good time for a meltdown.

But I was calm. Collected. Just biding my time until the kid decided being inside the chapel was better than being outside. Which he did within minutes. And I was barely ruffled.

Yep, I’ve done toddlers five times over and while I don’t claim to be an expert, I’m wise enough to not lose my head over an ordinary tantrum. There’ll be another one tomorrow, after all.

It’s the teenager thing that’s got my head spinning.

Boy, oh boy.

If you ever wanted to feel like a fish out of water, try raising a teenager. Or two or three.

Raising teenagers means that sometimes you feel like a human punching bag.

Other days you’re left scratching your head at the idiocy of these creatures who sure look like adults (and think they’re adults) but are anything but.

Some of them are master manipulators, appealing to the side of you that wants to be the nice guy by saying, “everyone else’s parents let them do this. Or that.”. It’s the oldest teenage trick in the book but it still hurts.

They keep you up late at night, then claim to be too tired to go to school the next morning. They eat you out of house and home, expect you to run them to and from multiple activities almost every day of the week.

Teenagers possess an uncanny tunnel vision that persuades them that everyone else in the world is tuned into their every failure or moment of awkwardness. While failing to consider that others feel the exact same way.

Teens bite the hand that feeds them and place a higher value on the opinions of pretty much everyone they don’t call mom or dad.

It can be brutal.

I have friends who LOVE raising teenagers. (At least that’s what they say on their social media accounts, so I suspect it’s partly for show). Or they’re just remarkably gifted in ways that it would seem I am not.

And while I adore my teenagers I can’t say I have wrapped my head around how to shape them into the amazing humans they can become. I can barely come up for air right now.

The other day Lily (one of my teenagers, who was a very “spirited” toddler and preschooler) remarked that she felt sorry for me for how difficult they (meaning she and her sisters) were as little kids. She doesn’t know how I did it.

Neither can I. But here’s the thing. Difficult children become difficult teenagers. And they’re much bigger. And less open to suggestion (and threats, for that matter).

And yet, just like the tiny babies I cradled lovingly as infants, they are full of greatness. In fact, they’re closer to it than ever before.

I sometimes feel like the little blue engine in The Little Engine that Could when she says:

“I’m not really big. I’ve never even been over the mountain. But, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”

Actually, I’m not always convinced I can. And though I would go back to having unruly preschoolers in a heartbeat, I don’t exactly have a choice. So I guess I’ll just plow through in my inadequacy until I get over this mountain.

See you on the other side.

Never underestimate the value of a stay-at-home parent.

Occasionally I get caught in the comments sections of certain online articles.  I’m consistently amazed by the harshness with which some people approach their comments.  It’s as if they don’t realize there are people behind those online profiles.

If our world were to be judged by the comments sections of online articles, I fear the lack of empathy displayed there would indicate a world in rapid decline.

I read a string of comments the other day from a woman with a clear disdain for stay-at-home moms.  She queried, “Being a stay-at-home mom is NOT a job.  Why is this even a debate?”  She brazenly stated that she “does everything a stay-at-home mom does, plus work a full-time job.”  She went on and on, despite others’ protests, by bitterly labeling stay-at-home moms as “free-loading” “whiners”.  She ought to have been embarrassed.

Before I launch into my retort, please understand that I am not suggesting that stay-at-home moms are more valuable than working moms.  I acknowledge the many reasons why a mother decides that traditional employment best meets her needs and that of her family.  I admire all that working mothers accomplish and the value they add to society.  I don’t think anyone really questions that.  At least not the way many question a stay-at-home mom’s value to society.

Which is why I take issue with this lady’s comments.

First, “Being a stay-at-home mom is NOT a job.”  Please.  People get paid for pretty much every single thing a stay-at-home mom does.  Working parents pay people to do what stay-at-home moms do on a daily basis.  Child care, cooking and housecleaning are merely the tip of the iceberg.  In order to maintain a household, some things simply cannot be left undone.

In dual income homes, both parents (presumably) share those responsibilities fairly evenly.  In a single-income household, one parent performs the lion’s share of those duties…until the bread-winning spouse gets home.   Ideally.  In any case, if the stay-at-home parent is doing something you would have to pay someone else to do if there were no stay-at-home parent, then I think it’s fair to call it a “job”.  Pay or no pay.

Second, “I do everything that a stay-at-home mom does plus work a full-time job”.

Wrong.

There are only 24 hours in a day, lady.  Unless a stay-at-home parent is sitting around eating bonbons all day (and I do acknowledge that those types may exist, though I don’t know any personally), you can bet that for the 9 plus hours a working parent is on the clock, stay-at-home parents are anxiously engaged.

Shall I mention a few of the activities in which they’re engaged?  Yes, let’s.

They’re serving on the parent-teacher associations at your kids’ schools.  They’re teaching/tutoring any number of subjects in the classroom.  They’re chairing fundraisers, running carpools, and coaching your kids’ teams.  They’re the (piano) accompanist for your kids’ choir program.  They’re chaperoning field trips.  They’re pinch-hitting (taking care of your kids) when you’ve got a big meeting at work.  They’re volunteering in the community.  They’re running homeschool co-ops. They’re serving as den mothers and girl scout leaders.  They’re coaching sports teams.  They’re opening their homes to kids whose parents arrive home long after the school bells have rung.  They’re bandaging up scraped knees when someone’s kid gets into a bike wreck on the way home from school.

The list goes on and on.

Working parents do those things, too, you say?  Yes.  Yes, many of them do.  But, trust me when I say that the list of stay-at-home parents doing these things on a consistent basis far eclipses that of working parents.  There simply isn’t enough time in the day to work a full-time job AND do all of the above.  Stay-at-home parents don’t get paid a dime for the laundry list of service they render (that benefit SO many more children than just their own).  So, it would be nice if those who work outside the home wouldn’t discount their contributions.  It’s safe to assume that stay-at-home parents are compensating for much of what working parents simply cannot do because they have a paid profession to attend to.

Third, stay-at-home parents are “free-loaders” and “whiners”.

Oh boy.  At the risk of sounding snarky, if you want to talk about free-loaders, see above for all the things stay-at-home parents do while other parents are busy making money.  I am abundantly grateful that my husband works his tail off to provide for our family so that I can spend my days with our kids.  So grateful that I bust my own buns on the home front to ensure that the sacrifice of one income is worth it.  That’s not free-loading.  It’s division of labor.

As for the whining part, sure, that exists.  Stay-at-home parents whine about never getting a break.  Working parents whine about having to do it all.  The world could definitely do with a whole lot less whining.

Which brings me to my final point: parents need to make decisions about working outside the home (or not) and refrain from criticizing those who choose otherwise.  I realize that the online comments I refer to in this post don’t represent the opinions of everyone.  Still, enough people lack the empathy to recognize the contributions others make whose situations vary from their own.  Instead, they criticize.  Berate, at times.

I am in awe of the working moms I know.

Every few months, when I have to spend three days straight with Jack for his infusions, I catch a glimpse of the skill it takes to manage a household while spending most of the day away from home.  I drop the kids off at school, go to the medical facility with Jack, chase him around with an IV pole for six hours, and get home right as(sometimes after) my kids start walking in the door from school.  On those days, time management is absolutely essential and I have to be extra careful to ensure that each moment with my kids counts.

Bravo to those who do that day in and day out.

I would hope to receive the same sort of consideration from working parents for the efforts I make as a stay-at-home parent.  A little empathy and support goes a long way.  Yes, even in the comments section.

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.

How doing something for me made me a better mother.

It’s been said that “water cannot be drawn from an empty well” and that advice applies in particular to mothers.  The task to raise children is a daunting one and can tax even the most energetic of women.  It’s easy to get caught up in the idea that to mother is to give everything to our children and, while I believe that to err on the side of this extreme is better than the opposite, as always, there is a balance to be struck.

How does one find that balance?  How can a mother know when her well needs to be replenished and how can she determine exactly what would do the trick?  Some mothers have regular opportunities for replenishment : a satisfying job outside the home, a college course or two, a book club or exercise group, a religious study group or regular girls’ night.  Still others, like me, fill their wells in less regular increments: squeezing in dates with the hubby, taking an occasional trip (sans kids and sometimes husband as well), a spa day or participation in a community musical.

Each mother can determine the frequency of said “breaks” and the nature of them.  The trick is to do it deliberately and to make each moment away from your kids count.  It’s also important to refrain from feeling entitled to a “break” or claiming that you “need” it.  Despite the fact that there are obvious benefits to filling one’s well, I dare say that such attitudes diminish the sense of gratitude we feel for the opportunity to pursue one’s own interests AND for the appreciation we feel at the opportunity to be called “mother” in the first place.  There are very few things we “need” in life and it’s safe to say that a break from parenting does not make the short list.

Still, a quote from M. Russell Ballard reads:

Find some time for yourself to cultivate your gifts and interests. Pick one or two things that you would like to learn or do that will enrich your life, and make time for them. Water cannot be drawn from an empty well, and if you are not setting aside a little time for what replenishes you, you will have less and less to give to others, even to your children.

Notice he said “pick one or two things” and set aside a “little time” so that we would not fall into the trap of prioritizing ourselves over our deserving families.

On occasion, I have lacked such judgment and determined that my chosen “replenishment” was not replenishing at all and simply an escape.  Other times my chosen rejuvenation was just that and benefitted my family indirectly by inspiring me to be a better me.

One such time came a few years ago when I decided to participate in a community choir for the 8 weeks leading up to Thanksgiving.  I decided to do it largely because I missed performing and because it would only require a few hours a week for a short period of time.  And yes, because it would give me a break from my children.

The experience was everything I hoped it would be.  The music penetrated my soul and filled me with gratitude.  I formed cherished friendships.  My voice began to do things it hadn’t after years of relative disuse.  But the most remarkable effect it had was the way it changed my parenting.

I had become caught up in a cycle of negativity with my daughters.  Their strong wills compelled me to match them with progressively harsher discipline and it wasn’t working.

During one particular rehearsal, the choir was having serious pitch problems.  As we sang a certain a cappella number our problems with intonation were readily obvious. I’m sure it was a source of frustration to our accomplished conductors.  Instead of criticizing, however, they lavished praise on us and simply gave us tools to help us improve our intonation.

I learned something about parenting that day. I learned that negativity is rarely a catalyst for change.  I learned to exercise patience with my children who had far less experience and wisdom than I (much as I had less experienced than these incredible choir directors).  I learned to use praise as motivation for improvement.

I am so grateful that I was deliberate and prudent in my decision to spend time away from my family.  Consequently, it yielded far more benefits than anticipated.  My well was filled to the brim.  And then some.