It was 10:36 when the announcement came over the intercom speaker on the phone on my desk. I knew it was coming. It is just a drill. I know it is just a drill.
Childcare lockdown.
For about 6 minutes, my daughter's preschool (whose phone system is tied in with ours) was practicing what they would do if someone came into their school to do them harm.
And for about 6 minutes, and for a full 15 after the "all clear" signal came through, I've been sitting at my desk crying.
I had the same reaction to the email I got from my son's kindergarten teachers back in January. They did a similar drill, though in their infinite creativity, they called it a "giant bunny drill", you know, in case the class was put upon by a herd of giant bunnies. Each kid was given a special hiding place int he classroom, safe from the giant bunnies. They were just letting parents know that if our kids came home talking about attacking rabbits, this was why.
They were also letting us know that they were thinking about my child's safety, and even in thinking of that, they were also protecting his 6-year-old psyche, one that--so-far-- believes that bad guys only exist on Lego Ninjago and Star Wars.
I am grateful that my kids go to schools where the teachers are trained in "lockdown". I trust those teachers every day with little beings more precious to me than my own life.
But I am so sad for the world they live in. I am deeply grieved that my three-year-old is learning how to hide from bad guys during her school day and something inside me permanently broke when my kindergartener laughingly told me about his giant bunny hiding place.
This is the part of parenting that no one can quite articulate: this feeling of total helplessness in the face of obvious evil. And that evil might be anything or anywhere: drunk driver, cancer, man with a gun in an elementary school. There is absolutely nothing practical we can do to escape either the evil or the helplessness, so we do nothing practical.
Instead, I do the impractical, the lavish, the ridiculous, the first stop and last resort: I pray. I have to. For non-believers, this sounds pointless, I get that. But at least feels like more than sobbing with my head down on my desk. And I believe that it is more than sobbing. It is admitting that, while I'm doing my best at taking care of what I've been given, there is a point after which control is no longer mine. There is terror and comfort in that. It's the best I've got in times like this.
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Vacationing. Kind of.
Holy moly, folks! I knew I had accidentally skipped a week or so, but I've just noticed that I haven't blogged in nearly a month. That's pretty bad. I am so sorry!
The good news is that somewhere in those few weeks I took a vacation. Vacation! Hooray!! !!!
Last year, during my sabbatical, I wrote a little about how vacationing with small children is so different than vacationing pre-kids:
I occasionally miss the old kind of vacation, the kind where you take a pile of paperbacks and some garbage magazines and sit on the beach for hours, coming in for a tomato sandwich, noon beer and nap on the couch. I used to stay up late to watch movies and get up long after the sun had begun to really bake the beach. Like so many other things in life with kids, I remember fondly the days when my time was exclusively mine, when naps and late nights were by choice, not necessity. The transition was hardest in the first year. I got very frustrated when my vacations felt "hijacked" by the little squalling, demanding bundle that was my first child.
It is different now. I'm tired, sure (I'm the only one still awake by a full hour!), but now that I have fully wrapped my mind around what the "new normal" is per vacation time, I'm getting more comfortable with the fact that I can rest when I'm dead and that these stinky, sandy, loud little rugrats are worth every ounce of time and attention we give them. I still get frustrated, tired, and aggravated and I still long for my book on the beach, but more often I enjoy getting sand in my bathing suit from all of the rolling about and castle building I do. I love introducing the kids to snow cones and fireworks and boiled peanuts. I'm working on reminding myself again and again that this time is really short and really, really valuable.
This vacation was no different. And I'm exhausted.
I have realized recently that I'm struggling a little bit with balancing the ideas of rest and renewal with family life. I agree with my sabbatical self, above, about the shortness of this precious time we have when the kids are small and malleable and, well, WANT to spend time with us. I am aware, sometimes brutally aware, that time is limited. But folks, I'm also aware that I'm burning a two-ended candle at all three ends.
Even Jesus took a break, I know that, but figuring out HOW is tricky.
I want to have my cake and eat it, too. I want a vacation from the hard stuff: cleaning and laundry and paperwork and tantrums and schedules and email and whining, obligations and crack-of-dawn wakeups. But I want to include the fun stuff: dinners together, exploring, playing, connecting, discovering, giggling. And I want to sleep a lot.
This doesn't exist, of course. Families are made up of people. People are made up of complex moving parts that have needs and reactions. I can't be with the kids and also take a break from their needs. I know that, I'm just figuring out how to negotiate it in real life and real time, and trying to figure out what the practical real world solution is.
The good news is that somewhere in those few weeks I took a vacation. Vacation! Hooray!! !!!
Last year, during my sabbatical, I wrote a little about how vacationing with small children is so different than vacationing pre-kids:
I occasionally miss the old kind of vacation, the kind where you take a pile of paperbacks and some garbage magazines and sit on the beach for hours, coming in for a tomato sandwich, noon beer and nap on the couch. I used to stay up late to watch movies and get up long after the sun had begun to really bake the beach. Like so many other things in life with kids, I remember fondly the days when my time was exclusively mine, when naps and late nights were by choice, not necessity. The transition was hardest in the first year. I got very frustrated when my vacations felt "hijacked" by the little squalling, demanding bundle that was my first child.
It is different now. I'm tired, sure (I'm the only one still awake by a full hour!), but now that I have fully wrapped my mind around what the "new normal" is per vacation time, I'm getting more comfortable with the fact that I can rest when I'm dead and that these stinky, sandy, loud little rugrats are worth every ounce of time and attention we give them. I still get frustrated, tired, and aggravated and I still long for my book on the beach, but more often I enjoy getting sand in my bathing suit from all of the rolling about and castle building I do. I love introducing the kids to snow cones and fireworks and boiled peanuts. I'm working on reminding myself again and again that this time is really short and really, really valuable.
This vacation was no different. And I'm exhausted.
I have realized recently that I'm struggling a little bit with balancing the ideas of rest and renewal with family life. I agree with my sabbatical self, above, about the shortness of this precious time we have when the kids are small and malleable and, well, WANT to spend time with us. I am aware, sometimes brutally aware, that time is limited. But folks, I'm also aware that I'm burning a two-ended candle at all three ends.
Even Jesus took a break, I know that, but figuring out HOW is tricky.
I want to have my cake and eat it, too. I want a vacation from the hard stuff: cleaning and laundry and paperwork and tantrums and schedules and email and whining, obligations and crack-of-dawn wakeups. But I want to include the fun stuff: dinners together, exploring, playing, connecting, discovering, giggling. And I want to sleep a lot.
This doesn't exist, of course. Families are made up of people. People are made up of complex moving parts that have needs and reactions. I can't be with the kids and also take a break from their needs. I know that, I'm just figuring out how to negotiate it in real life and real time, and trying to figure out what the practical real world solution is.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Unchurching
There is a lot of chatter in church circles about how to attract more seekers, how to grow our churches, how to bring more people into the faith. In light of that, this article from Episcopal Cafe is really interesting. It seems that, like some parents who have decided to keep their children at home for schooling, some parents are "churching" their kids at home as well, in response to lack of church communities that answer the needs of the family, whatever they might be.
Equally as interesting as the article itself are the comments below the article, which range form the vicious to the supportive. Some believe that this is a self-centered move that speaks to the death of church as primary community. Others are thrilled that spirituality and moral compass are being taught at home. The Monday Morning Moms are going to talk about the article next week. What are your thoughts?
Equally as interesting as the article itself are the comments below the article, which range form the vicious to the supportive. Some believe that this is a self-centered move that speaks to the death of church as primary community. Others are thrilled that spirituality and moral compass are being taught at home. The Monday Morning Moms are going to talk about the article next week. What are your thoughts?
Monday, January 23, 2012
Self-promotion
No, not that kind. I'm not promoting MY self.
But in Monday Morning Moms today, we talked a bit bout how we teach our children to present themselves. The discussion began with a t-shirt for a 4 year old boy that we all agreed was pretty offensive (I'm not going to share the t-shirt lest I offend the original gift-giver). It was sold by a major children's clothing brand that we all felt should know better. But even more than the actual content of the message lingered the question: how do we teach our children to be presentable? On one hand, it is our job to make sure that our children know how to put their best foot forward. On the other hand, we should be letting them figure out who they are in the world and how to express exactly who they are. Where is the line?
We all agreed that some battles are worth fighting. Girls should not be dressed like prostitutes if for no other reason than it sends the message to this broken world that childhood is free for sexualizing. But others were a little trickier at the negotiating table. T-shirts with logos or obnoxious (though non-offensive) messages? Hair that hangs in their beautiful eyes? And what about dressing for occasions: Do we enforce dressing up for church or let it go so that they have good feelings about this place that we want them to love?
We talked a bit about how to navigate the tricky waters of letting our kids grow and develop their own tastes but also letting them know that what they look like makes and impression on the people they come in contact with. As with so much of what we discuss, there's no easy answer. There's no gold standard.
Curiously, in our house, none of this came to issue until we had a daughter. Our son's clothes were pretty standard and non-exciting. And except for the occasional favorite t-shirt that he wanted to pull out of the dirty hamper, we've never tussled over what to wear.
Our daughter is different. I'm not sure why, whether it is personality, culture or some kind of subconscious influence from her parents, but our 2 1/2 year old girl is very particular about what she wears. And there seems to be no pattern to it. Jeans one day, tutu the next, but always with strong and purposeful opinions. Mostly, as long as she is covered, we don't care, but we are both aware that there will come a day when we will care, when she will want to wear or do something with/on her body that is outside the realm of where we as her parents feel comfortable. That might happen with our son, too, but the truth is, the possibilities are different with boys, mostly because of the models of sexualization of women and girls.
And because of both of these, we end up in the tricky trap of spending more time caring about what our daughter wears than what our son wears. Which means, in a backwards and ridiculous way, we are feeding right back into the message we are trying to avoid: that what she wears matters. And that what he wears doesn't.
I'm overblowing this a little. In our house, we don't really think a whole lot about what we wear (some days, this is painfully obvious!). But as we raise these two little rugrats, I am constantly thinking about the messages we send them about how to be in the world. I want to balance out the (very real) idea that how they present themselves is important with the idea that who they are and how they treat others is even more important.
This is a hard message to impart when every advertising message on television, radio, billboards, t-shirts and elsewhere tells them that their worth is tied to what they look like and how much they consume. Just countering those messages with messages of the unconditional love of God and parent is a full time job in itself.
Add that to the need to keep feeding them and it is no wonder we moms are always so worn out!
But in Monday Morning Moms today, we talked a bit bout how we teach our children to present themselves. The discussion began with a t-shirt for a 4 year old boy that we all agreed was pretty offensive (I'm not going to share the t-shirt lest I offend the original gift-giver). It was sold by a major children's clothing brand that we all felt should know better. But even more than the actual content of the message lingered the question: how do we teach our children to be presentable? On one hand, it is our job to make sure that our children know how to put their best foot forward. On the other hand, we should be letting them figure out who they are in the world and how to express exactly who they are. Where is the line?
We all agreed that some battles are worth fighting. Girls should not be dressed like prostitutes if for no other reason than it sends the message to this broken world that childhood is free for sexualizing. But others were a little trickier at the negotiating table. T-shirts with logos or obnoxious (though non-offensive) messages? Hair that hangs in their beautiful eyes? And what about dressing for occasions: Do we enforce dressing up for church or let it go so that they have good feelings about this place that we want them to love?
We talked a bit about how to navigate the tricky waters of letting our kids grow and develop their own tastes but also letting them know that what they look like makes and impression on the people they come in contact with. As with so much of what we discuss, there's no easy answer. There's no gold standard.
Curiously, in our house, none of this came to issue until we had a daughter. Our son's clothes were pretty standard and non-exciting. And except for the occasional favorite t-shirt that he wanted to pull out of the dirty hamper, we've never tussled over what to wear.
Our daughter is different. I'm not sure why, whether it is personality, culture or some kind of subconscious influence from her parents, but our 2 1/2 year old girl is very particular about what she wears. And there seems to be no pattern to it. Jeans one day, tutu the next, but always with strong and purposeful opinions. Mostly, as long as she is covered, we don't care, but we are both aware that there will come a day when we will care, when she will want to wear or do something with/on her body that is outside the realm of where we as her parents feel comfortable. That might happen with our son, too, but the truth is, the possibilities are different with boys, mostly because of the models of sexualization of women and girls.
And because of both of these, we end up in the tricky trap of spending more time caring about what our daughter wears than what our son wears. Which means, in a backwards and ridiculous way, we are feeding right back into the message we are trying to avoid: that what she wears matters. And that what he wears doesn't.
I'm overblowing this a little. In our house, we don't really think a whole lot about what we wear (some days, this is painfully obvious!). But as we raise these two little rugrats, I am constantly thinking about the messages we send them about how to be in the world. I want to balance out the (very real) idea that how they present themselves is important with the idea that who they are and how they treat others is even more important.
This is a hard message to impart when every advertising message on television, radio, billboards, t-shirts and elsewhere tells them that their worth is tied to what they look like and how much they consume. Just countering those messages with messages of the unconditional love of God and parent is a full time job in itself.
Add that to the need to keep feeding them and it is no wonder we moms are always so worn out!
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Children and Gender
I am swamped. Really, really swamped right now. I have more to do than hours in the days before Christmas. Somehow it will all get done, though I'm not sure how.
So what's a girl to do? Surf the internet as a practice of avoidance, of course!
I came across this article about gender variance today and had a little mini-cry. I'm not sure what the tears were about, though. I think I was moved by the teacher's dedication to making her corner of the world a more accepting, loving place. I think I am also so sad for any kid that is the target of bullying. I'm also a little scared for my own kids.
One of the (very) few things I am confident about as a parent is that I am not raising bullies. My kids are small, both below Kindergarten, so who knows what the future will bring to their little personalities, but I will say with some manner of self-assuredness, picking on other kids will NOT be part of it so long as I have breath in my body. I don't need "nice" or "sweet" or "well-behaved" all the time, but I am raising my kids to be aware of those around them and to be on the side of Right and Truth, to stand up for what is good and holy in the world, to protect those that need help. I'm aware that this alone might bring them a different brand of heartache, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
The article brings up another frustrating trap that I haven't had as much success keeping out of: the pink and the blue. More broadly, it is the gender-based everything that pervades our house. A friend lamented to me recently that Christmas shopping for her children, a boy and a girl, reminded her that she's left her feminist principles in the dust. My Christmas shopping was the same: babies and beads for our daughter, Transformers and soccer ball for our son.
At what point can I as a parent stop trying to fight the princess onslaught or the monster truck parade and just let THAT be who my kids are? There is a uber-Liberal part of me that wants to tell you how gender-bendy my son is because he sleeps with a pink plastic baby doll and takes ballet. And that, mixed in with the Transformers, I bought said baby doll a bottle and bib for Christmas. Because when I tell you that, I feel better about myself, that I have somehow cracked the code on the gender mystery.
But as a feminist who is a mother of two children, one boy and one girl, I'm struggling with the fact that my kids choices in toys and clothes are exactly that: their choices, not mine (within reason). That my son really loves to make any pointy object into a sword doesn't necessarily mean that he is not going to be a good person who supports his spouse and is sensitive to his own children. And that my daughter will take that same pointy object and make it a princess wand does not mean that she will not be an equally good person who will make her own smart choices.
Maybe "choices" is what it is all about, helping our kids understand that there are princesses and trucks and ballet and soccer out there and that those things are open to them as much as we can make them. Our daughter loves to "practice" ballet along with her brother (though she has the grace of a tiny water buffalo) and we got her a soccer ball for Christmas, too-- it is pink, I admit.
I cannot say with pure honesty that I will be proud of my kids no matter what they do. But I will do my level best to love who they are which, I think, is my job as a feminist/christian/parent-type-person.
So what's a girl to do? Surf the internet as a practice of avoidance, of course!
I came across this article about gender variance today and had a little mini-cry. I'm not sure what the tears were about, though. I think I was moved by the teacher's dedication to making her corner of the world a more accepting, loving place. I think I am also so sad for any kid that is the target of bullying. I'm also a little scared for my own kids.
One of the (very) few things I am confident about as a parent is that I am not raising bullies. My kids are small, both below Kindergarten, so who knows what the future will bring to their little personalities, but I will say with some manner of self-assuredness, picking on other kids will NOT be part of it so long as I have breath in my body. I don't need "nice" or "sweet" or "well-behaved" all the time, but I am raising my kids to be aware of those around them and to be on the side of Right and Truth, to stand up for what is good and holy in the world, to protect those that need help. I'm aware that this alone might bring them a different brand of heartache, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
The article brings up another frustrating trap that I haven't had as much success keeping out of: the pink and the blue. More broadly, it is the gender-based everything that pervades our house. A friend lamented to me recently that Christmas shopping for her children, a boy and a girl, reminded her that she's left her feminist principles in the dust. My Christmas shopping was the same: babies and beads for our daughter, Transformers and soccer ball for our son.
At what point can I as a parent stop trying to fight the princess onslaught or the monster truck parade and just let THAT be who my kids are? There is a uber-Liberal part of me that wants to tell you how gender-bendy my son is because he sleeps with a pink plastic baby doll and takes ballet. And that, mixed in with the Transformers, I bought said baby doll a bottle and bib for Christmas. Because when I tell you that, I feel better about myself, that I have somehow cracked the code on the gender mystery.
But as a feminist who is a mother of two children, one boy and one girl, I'm struggling with the fact that my kids choices in toys and clothes are exactly that: their choices, not mine (within reason). That my son really loves to make any pointy object into a sword doesn't necessarily mean that he is not going to be a good person who supports his spouse and is sensitive to his own children. And that my daughter will take that same pointy object and make it a princess wand does not mean that she will not be an equally good person who will make her own smart choices.
Maybe "choices" is what it is all about, helping our kids understand that there are princesses and trucks and ballet and soccer out there and that those things are open to them as much as we can make them. Our daughter loves to "practice" ballet along with her brother (though she has the grace of a tiny water buffalo) and we got her a soccer ball for Christmas, too-- it is pink, I admit.
I cannot say with pure honesty that I will be proud of my kids no matter what they do. But I will do my level best to love who they are which, I think, is my job as a feminist/christian/parent-type-person.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Parenting with religious overtones
I am reading a fantastic book, little by little, called Nurture Shock by Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman. The premise of the book is that many of current trends in child-rearing are bass-ackwards and actually damaging our kids in subtle but measurable ways. It has been a great read for me. It is making me think hard about some of the assumptions I'm making and also about some of the things I've learned from other parents.
So far, I'm particularly intrigued by the article about praise. In short, most modern parents offer profuse praise to our kids-- "You are so smart!" "You're a great baseball player!" "It is okay that you didn't make the team, you're still better than most of the guys that did!"
In a culture that has come to believe that high self-esteem leads to high achievement, this seems like a good idea. If my kid thinks he's smart, then he will be able to do anything. We want our kids to feel good about themselves and we want to feel good about the way we interact with our kids, so we've turned into praise junkies. The authors suggest constantly reminding our kids that they are loved, but helping them grow by challenging them, which is how our brains develop the neurons they need to really actually make us smarter. Telling a kid he is just generally smart doesn't help.
In fact, it can hurt. Kids whose self-esteem is built on a general understanding that they are brilliant or great at sports or the prettiest ever have a much harder time coping with reality when it strikes: they do fail a test, they don't make the first-string team, they get acne. When their self-image is built around a generalization, that generalization can be shattered more easily than if the self-image is built situationally.
They suggest that we should praise or challenge our kids based on their achievements. If your child does really well on the test, tell him your proud of how hard he studied or concentrated to make that test go well, that you're proud of that skill that he is developing. If the kid does a terrible job on the soccer field, suggest some special time together to work on it, don't excuse it as a bad day or blame it on another player.
I get this and, it rings really true for me. In parenting alone, it feels more genuine than the empty praise of "you're great!"
But...
What about God?
That is, in some ways this kind of praise counters what I say in the pulpit so often. That is: you are created perfect and good just the way you are. That is: God thinks you're great.
It is perhaps true that I'm overthinking this. I've been accused of such before. However, the messages do feel conflicting. On one hand, there is the message of the loving creator, God, who believes us perfect, good, holy. On the other hand, there is this new theory of praise that says that I, the mother, should not actually tell my kids that they are generally good lest I set them up for a crashing downfall. I know the two are not mutually exclusive but I'm having a hard time working out exactly how to reconcile them.
The answer may have to do with the love piece. God, your creator, loves you. I, your mother, love you. Both of these are free of stipulations or qualifiers. No ifs, ands or buts. I'm not exactly sure where I go from there when it comes to praising my kids, but I am intrigued by this theory and look forward to continuing to wrestle with it. My poor little ducklings are going to be so confused.
So far, I'm particularly intrigued by the article about praise. In short, most modern parents offer profuse praise to our kids-- "You are so smart!" "You're a great baseball player!" "It is okay that you didn't make the team, you're still better than most of the guys that did!"
In a culture that has come to believe that high self-esteem leads to high achievement, this seems like a good idea. If my kid thinks he's smart, then he will be able to do anything. We want our kids to feel good about themselves and we want to feel good about the way we interact with our kids, so we've turned into praise junkies. The authors suggest constantly reminding our kids that they are loved, but helping them grow by challenging them, which is how our brains develop the neurons they need to really actually make us smarter. Telling a kid he is just generally smart doesn't help.
In fact, it can hurt. Kids whose self-esteem is built on a general understanding that they are brilliant or great at sports or the prettiest ever have a much harder time coping with reality when it strikes: they do fail a test, they don't make the first-string team, they get acne. When their self-image is built around a generalization, that generalization can be shattered more easily than if the self-image is built situationally.
They suggest that we should praise or challenge our kids based on their achievements. If your child does really well on the test, tell him your proud of how hard he studied or concentrated to make that test go well, that you're proud of that skill that he is developing. If the kid does a terrible job on the soccer field, suggest some special time together to work on it, don't excuse it as a bad day or blame it on another player.
I get this and, it rings really true for me. In parenting alone, it feels more genuine than the empty praise of "you're great!"
But...
What about God?
That is, in some ways this kind of praise counters what I say in the pulpit so often. That is: you are created perfect and good just the way you are. That is: God thinks you're great.
It is perhaps true that I'm overthinking this. I've been accused of such before. However, the messages do feel conflicting. On one hand, there is the message of the loving creator, God, who believes us perfect, good, holy. On the other hand, there is this new theory of praise that says that I, the mother, should not actually tell my kids that they are generally good lest I set them up for a crashing downfall. I know the two are not mutually exclusive but I'm having a hard time working out exactly how to reconcile them.
The answer may have to do with the love piece. God, your creator, loves you. I, your mother, love you. Both of these are free of stipulations or qualifiers. No ifs, ands or buts. I'm not exactly sure where I go from there when it comes to praising my kids, but I am intrigued by this theory and look forward to continuing to wrestle with it. My poor little ducklings are going to be so confused.
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