"I would not interfere with any creed of yours,or want to appear that I have all the cures.There is so much to know... So many things are true...The way my feet must go may not be best for you.And so, I give this spark of what is light to me,to guide you through the dark, but not tell you what to see." -Author Unknown
So the other day, Emilee (16) carries a very limp & teary-eyed Grace (4) into my bedroom where I’m working and says “Mom, Grace is sad.” So I stopped working and held her in my arms and asked her why she was sad. She explained, with Emilee’s help, how it bothers her that Maddy (7) always wins. She was so very sad about it, so we tried to help her think of things she’s good at, so she can beat Maddy. She was amused with our suggestions, but ultimately rejected each one, including “nose picking” and “being 4″ and “jumping over floor tiles” These are things we know she’s proud of.
In the end, she came up with her own ideas, “a race” and “tying people up” and “making homemade band aids.”
Madelyn wouldn’t even compete in the tying people up category, which made grace a winner by default. The look of joy & pride on Grace’s face when she beat Maddy at making homemade band-aids was priceless and I suspect Maddy let her win the race, when she realized what was going on.
Around here, we’re not much into competitive sports, where other people make up the rules. And we’re definitely not the types that wake up at the crack of dawn to drive the kids out to a field to play. I prefer that the kids engage in activities that encourage them to be their personal best, rather than focus on “beating others.”
In principle, I’d let them participate in group sports, but in realty, it hasn’t happened. Sign-up dates have often eluded us, as this information gets sent home with kids at school. I’ve often wondered why these groups (soccer clubs, little league, etc..) don’t have more informative websites. I don’t make much of an effort to find out about these things because I’m not interested in attending practice 2-3 times a week or sitting in the sun or wind at 8am on a Saturday while they play.
Yes, competition is a natural part of life. Yes, competition is healthy and normal. No, we don’t need to invent situations where kids can experience arbitrary competition. Life presents plenty of natural opportunities to experience competition, without expensive uniforms, ongoing repetitive “championship rounds” or anything like that. Rivals can (and should) be friends, always. There’s more to competition than warfare.
Arbitrary rules of competition set kids up to live by the other people’s definition of success, instead of creating their own happiness. This might work well for people who define success by keeping up with their neighbors, but around here, we have different expectations.
I expect my kids to excel exactly as much as they wish, at whatever they choose to be a worthy exploit. I expect that they are in tune with their own inner longings, and find it easy to decide what games they’ll compete in and whether or not they intend to win, or just want to play. I trust that the activities they choose and the decisions they’re making today are part of their ultimate identity, something I would never dream of influencing or “shaping,” to do so would be blasphemous.
OK- here’s how food, nutrition & shopping works in our house. Keep in mind that it’s a constantly evolving process of feeding our bodies, and we definitely didn’t start off like this. Every family has their own food issues. I believe that food shouldn’t be an issue. Human infants are born with the ability to completely control how much they eat, and when. Limiting or controlling a person’s food source, in my opinion, is inhumane. In war, attacking the enemy’s food source is always a good idea, right?
In the past, I was a food-nazi mom. I limited and controlled everything my kids ate. The decision stemmed from love, it really was the best I could do at the time and it did jive with my overall parenting philosophy at the time. I’m so glad my philosophy has changed. My kids probably are, too.
Today, philosophically, I limit nothing. In reality, I still tend to groan or subconsciously indicate displeasure when a child takes another popsicle. I’m trying to stop that. I also shop alone sometimes to avoid purchasing those items. Overall, they eat really well. My kids make diverse food choices, picking more vegetables and fruits than a lot of families and not a lot of “junk food” binges.
I feel the need to define junk food, since I used it in quotation marks. My definition of junk food is anything processed. Crackers, beef jerky, fruit jelly snacks and rolls, doritos, hoho’s, anything with high fructose corn syrup, canned fruit, anything with white flour, plus the candy and chocolate bars you’d expect.
Another theory on junk food is that NO food is junk. I have yet to embrace that one. Whenever I “get it” I’m sure I’ll blog it. I feel like the food nature provides is superior to anything man makes, and man-made food is junk. But I could be wrong And I try not to teach my kids that certain choices are “wrong.”
So anyways, the Radical Unschooling theory is that when restrictions are placed on certain foods, it creates an unhealthy obsession with the food. I know that when I was a child, we weren’t allowed to eat a lot of candy and sweets. As a teenager, when I started to have more control over my food choices, I chose more candies and treats than I probably should have. Theoretically, without any stigma, dogma or emotions assigned to foods, kids with freedom to choose will listen to their body, naturally make “better” decisions than a child who’s been taught that sweets are “for special occasions” or that “the yummiest things are bad for you” or “too much is a bad thing.”
I could see the logic in this thinking for a long time, but I’d also been sending my kids the wrong message for a long time, too. When my oldest kids were little, I definitely controlled their food options. I felt it was my responsibility to make decisions for them, believing that if they had the choice they’d eat candy all day. In fact, when I started this, I’d limit the foods that came into the house, so that I’d be OK with the kids’ ultimate freedom. I know, it’s a contradiction, but it was a stepping stone for me. I guess I still do it to some extent, since I don’t generally bring all 6 kids to the grocery store. But honestly that’s more about crowd control than food choices. My girls talk, constantly and if you’ve ever had 6 little girls chattering at you in the grocery store I imagine you’d screw up your shopping, too.
Anyway, it took a while and I’m still not perfect, but I can see the fruits of freedom, especially in my 2 year old. Her food choices are so incredibly cool for a 2 yr old. Her favorite foods are tomatoes, avocados, the Chinese hot sauce with the chicken on it and jelly. I let her eat it from the jar. She generally has about 2 bites. I would never have done this a few years ago, but why not? She also eats peanut butter from the jar and plain bread. but when you put them together, she won’t eat it at all. So what’s the harm? She can identify almost every spice in our cabinet by smelling it, thanks to Meagan’s tutoring. Smelling and tasting the spices is one of her favorite activities. Sometimes she’ll ask for a specific spice on her food. “More garlic, please” or “You put some paprika on here for me, please?” Of course I will, you deserve to have your requests honored, even if they seem silly to me.
I used to be very against the “short order cook” method of feeding a family. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, though. And it’s really nothing like being a short order cook. When we cook for everyone, we have a big meal that most of us like and if 1 or 2 people want something different, it’s really not that big of a deal to work that into the menu. Often, someone’s plate can be modified simply by skipping the sauce, picking out the meat or adding some trivial ingredient. We’re feeding 8 people, there will ALWAYS be multiple dishes. Everyone should have access to something they enjoy and it’s beyond rude to force a child to “eat what we’re having or nothing at all.” I used to do that.
Here’s how bad I was: My oldest daughter was probably 3 years old one day and didn’t want the soup we were having for lunch. So I wrapped it in plastic and served it to her for dinner and she didn’t eat it. The next day, she didn’t eat it for breakfast or lunch and I actually brought it to the restaurant for dinner again. And the whole time, I kept thinking “My goodness she’s stubborn.” I didn’t even see it at the time that I was the stubborn one, she just didn’t want the soup. It’s amazing that kid survived.
In our house, I make sure we always have fresh fruit or veggies available for snacking. Other snack foods are available, too. Gabriella’s been making homemade French fries lately. Someone is always cooking something and everyone but Grace enjoys spicy foods. When candy and treats come into the house, I just let the kids gobble them up as fast as they want. I no longer ration anything, including Halloween candy. Yep, they’ve gotten belly aches from too much candy before, but no one’s ever been killed by a belly ache. And I read an article that said a slow and constant (rationed) diet of sugar is worse for your teeth than gobbling it all up at once.
Today I’m happy with the food choices my kids make. The only rationing we do around here is calculating how many cookies are in the box, to be sure everyone gets some.
When we shop, I always let them pick a treat. This was a hard lesson to learn, too. It didn’t “click” with me until I overheard a woman tell her child “We are not here for that.” And it occurred to me- DUH- That’s the whole point of shopping, to pick stuff? Why on earth would it be fair to not allow the kids to pick something? Surprisingly, they don’t always pick candy or impulse items. They’ve picked watermelon, cereal, chocolate, fancy juice, pop, burgers, frozen pizzas, breakfast sausage and all sorts of things. When there are no restrictions, there’s no obsessions, no taboos. Oranges are just as exciting as tootsie rolls. They’re able to listen to their bodies and make decisions based upon something other than my nutrition dogma.
And everything we eat becomes a “treat” because nothing is forbidden. Nothing is for “special occasions.” No “special occasion” will be minimized by the prospect of FINALLY getting to eat something sacred. No food item is more exciting than the act of sharing a meal with one another, no matter what it is. We have thanksgiving Turkey all year round, we have birthday cake when no one is having a birthday and we grow food in our garden that’s more of a treat than chocolate bars. Imagine their excitement, discovering a ripe strawberry in the garden, hidden under the leaves like a present from the earth.
They see me reading labels. We discuss the nutrition labeling information, but I don’t often eat foods with labels. I’m about 80% raw & organic in my diet (the other 20% is deep fried, chocolate, cheese, coffee and meat) I feel filled with energy and light as a feather when I eat like this. It took me 35 years to learn how to listen to my body.
When I see the way my kids eat, I can see that allowing them to listen to their bodies is worthwhile. I can never know what their nutritional needs are, on a day-to-day basis. Contrary to what the government’s food pyramid may imply, our needs DO change from day to day and everyone’s body has different needs. My kids’ food choices reflect that. I wish I could go back time 15 years and argue with myself about that old philosophy. Imagine- bringing the soup to the restaurant.
—————————————————————
For the record, none of us are obese, or even the slightest bit overweight.
The kids got some money from their Grandma recently and Grace (4) spent her money in the store of Emilee (16) & Meagan (13). Emilee & Meagan tend to set aside some trinkets and things they know the little kids will like and when the little kids get any money, the older girls will sell things to them.
I used to get so annoyed that they were taking advantage of the little ones. I recently came to my senses, though. If they’re happy with their purchase, what business is it of mine? As they get older they will understand the value of their money without my mistrust, and they will demand better “deals” and make smarter purchasing decisions. Or not. Either way, what business is it of mine to interfere?
Today Grace bought a little wooden box from Emilee. She wants to get a pet mouse to live in it. One of the first things she had to do , though, was to paint the box. She asked me if she could paint it and I really didn’t give it much thought,except to say “please clean up the paint when you’re done.” When she was done, it took me less than 5 minutes to wipe up the paint and make sure the lids were on tight.
She’s also what some might call a picky eater. Her eating schedule is just a little bit different than everyone else in our house. So she never seems to be hungry when we’re eating- she uses that time to make all kinds of art. Because of this, I save her a plate for when she’s hungry, otherwise she’d eat nothing but jelly sandwiches all day.
Grace is 4 and she loves Microsoft paint on the computer. She creates these little drawings and each has a name and a story. Sometimes it takes her a while to think of a name and when she does, they’re very very cute. Files we saved today were called “Sparkling love for Maddy,” “Colored mommy surprise,” and “Pancake man with a big happy smile.”
Today when I was cutting the crust from Grace’s sandwich, I realized that I’ve come a long way. I never cut off crusts for my older kids. I used to shy away from the idea that kids’ preferences mattered. It’s accepted, in our culture, to dismiss the wishes of children by placing ourselves upon a pedestal.
I grew up so often hearing things like “Yeah right, like I’m going to cut the crust off your sandwich? Do I look like a slave? When I was your age, we had to eat the crust or we’d starve. Cut off your own crust. Or better yet, learn to like the crust, otherwise I’m not making you sandwiches anymore.” Imagine how that would feel, though. Imagine if you were in a restaurant and the cook came out of the kitchen to tel you that. You’d be a bit offended. You certainly wouldn’t choose to dine there again, at least I wouldn’t.
I have to give a product recommendation here. We go through jelly because we have 6 kids, y’know. Plus, I like jelly, too. But we gave up on Smuckers and even generic brands because they all had high fructose corn syrup in them. I could find teeny jars of sugar-only or no-sweetener-added or (God forbid) artificially sweetened (which I never once did buy) but this Danish Farms makes the most delicious strawberry preserves. Basically, it’s nothing but the chunks. It comes in a little blue bucket.
With this stuff, you don’t make a sandwich, bite several bites and every now & then say “mmm, I just got a strawberry.” These guys put ginormous whole berries in every bite. So you know that they’re not physically over-processed, they’re intact, recognizable. It’s the absolute most delicious thing. And it’s only $1 or $2 more than the big jars with hfcs in it. I think this summer we’ll try mashing fresh strawberries for sandwiches
So anyway, I’m downstairs in the kitchen with Evelyn. We’re cleaning up the dinner mess and she wants a little more rice. I’m putting the leftovers in a divided plate for a midnight snack or Grace’s dinner. She hadn’t eaten yet. I got everything cleaned up and Grace came in. She was hungry, so she sat up at the table with Evelyn eating a late-night dinner. The two shared a plate and had a very sweet conversation. “You getting dat bite?” “Its yummy?” “You want my chicken?” “You yike yours rice?” I kept the dishwater running really low so I could hear their sweet little voices.
When I put away the hot sauce, I noticed the awesome jelly in the fridge and was so excited about how delicious it looked that I pointed it out to both girls and offered them a jelly sandwich. I wanted a pb& j but they prefer their peanut butter by the spoon, not on bread with jelly. It’s one of their favorite meals. A few years ago, I would have said “No way. You’re not eating a jelly sandwich. That’s not a meal.”
They each wanted half a sandwich. Grace, I noticed, used to insist upon two breads. She saw me making two-bread sandwiches for the older girls and felt ripped-off for a while. I think she’s noticed though, that she can’t ever really eat a two-bread sandwich. I’m glad I never told her “No, you can’t eat that much.” When she first asked for two-bread sandwiches, she got annoyed with me for offering her a choice. So I stopped offering her a choice. I made absolutely no issue about the size sandwich she was asking for, it was a completely struggle-less transition. I learned to wait until she was done and add some peanut butter to the leftover half for myself. Or just get over it and throw it away. Often, she’d want it wrapped up for later, until she discovered that jelly sandwiches aren’t that yummy leftover.
She was experimenting with a different sandwich size and learned that it was too much for her. I never once said “Are you sure you can eat two” The only time I’d do that was if we were just about out of bread. She hates the crust, so I couldn’t even turn around the butt-end of the bread.
The girls enjoyed sharing a sandwich together, especially the tasty jelly chunks. I brought them milk in their favorite cups and Evelyn was the first to say “gankgoo mommy”
After they ate, Grace went upstairs to paint again while Evelyn wanted to drink some water. It took her a while to get the water bottle out of the case, it was the last one. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she stuck her arm in and out of it, pick it up & shook it, tried turning it over. She didn’t want help and I was cleaning anyway.
After she got the water bottle out, she danced a little dance of joy while I opened the lid and she took a few sips. She wanted me to put the lid on and take it off in between each sip. I only groaned a little bit. The sound of her voice and her happy little face when we’re communicating with each other is so very sweet and addictive. Dishes can wait.
After she takes her last sip (apparently she needed 4 of them) she sang and danced. She made up a little song on the spot about a ducky shhleepling (which means sleeping) I can’t even say it had a tune, but her voice was raised at a very high pitch and she stretched out certain random syllables of a few words. Every now and then she’d catch me looking at her and smiling and she’d blush a little and then sing louder.
After a while she stopped and said “Joo hear my song mommy? Joo hear me sing dat song mommy? I singed dddduuuuuucckkkkyyyyy song mommy. I singed ducky schleeeeepling, OK” Yes- I tell her. “I heard your little song about the ducky sleeping, that was cute. Did you have fun?”
It’s really cute when she says her name. “I Evie” or “I Evelyn” So today Meagan asked her “Who are you?” She got a sly look on her face and said “I Effalint” (which is actually elephant) I was surprised. “You don’t look like an elephant, you look like a little girl.” “No I just lying.” I was amused that she knew the word lying, we don’t use it much around here. I asked “You’re a lion?” “No, I lying. I sayed me EFFALINT.” She sure set me straight.
We’re interrupted. Gabriella comes in to tel us that Grace is so cute painting her little box upstairs.
My 2 yr old is reaching for a basket. She’s in my arms and it’s just out of her reach. She grunts and says “Help me reach it mommy” (but not like that, it’s more like 2 words “hewlpme reachitmommy”) and I lean over so she can reach.
I discover she was really reaching for the crochet hook inside. It’s hooked around one of the basket’s bottom pieces of straw, so the basket comes, too. She laughs “gottit bakstick mommy” and I turn to see why she’s laughing. She’s fumbling to get the basket off the hook.
I’d rather her play with the basket than the hook. It looks like she’s caught a fish. I tell her so and she thinks it’s funny.
She frees the crochet hook and looks in the basket. (which seems way more fun than the hook now, luckily) There’s nothing in there, obviously. She gives me a funny look. “Got fish in there?” She asks me. I said “You do?” and she decides that this is fun and plays along.
“Yeah, I got jellyfish in there, hold it.” I had a traumatic jellyfish issue in Hawaii when I was 9. Portugese man-o-wars, to be exact. I strung them all over my arms and stomped around the beach like a sea monster. A few hours later I was soaking in the tub with herbs and potions under the supervision of the local witch doctor, waiting for the swelling to go down and for signs of emergency, which would involve an air lift to the hospital. It wasn’t much fun. Nor was it fun that my Grandma stood over in the doorway, alerting everyone in the neighborhood that my breasts had begun to develop. To this day, I think she scared them. I’m not messing with jellyfish, I tell my daughter.
“No way, jellyfish sting, I don’t want to hold jellyfish.” “Oh” she looks down, a little dismayed, so I suggest she catches another kind of fish. She dumps the jellyfish back into the imaginary sea and catches “nahwahn fish” (another one fish) to show me. We admire the fish. it’s wet and floppy. She says that it “yooks yummy” but I’m not so easily convinced. She wants to go upstairs and show the girls. But first, she dumps out the new fish in order to catch more jellyfish.
So I go upstairs with her because it’s time for the nightly bedtime ritual anyway. I’ve mentioned before that we don’t have bedtimes, instead we just hang out and the kids still fall asleep.
Just because we don’t have a bedtime, it doesn’t mean we don’t go to bed, and it doesn’t mean we don’t have similar bedtime rituals. Ours are just more fun
Generally, We snuggle in on the 9 yr old’s bed, I go through a nightly checklist “did you brush your teeth?” and when the answer isn’t “yes of course” I sometimes ask “are you going to?” (only one sometimes doesn’t want to. A piggyback ride down the stairs usually solves it, she doesn’t like to be downstairs alone) Then we make sure feet are clean, especially in the summer. We make sure jammies are on, I collect the dirty clothes basket, helping make sure their toy are put away and sometimes we watch a movie.
The other day we had a great time making friendship bracelets. Sometimes we just tell stories or play word games or board games. Usually we read books, They each pick one (because I can guarantee I won’t fall asleep through 1 book each. If I’m still conscious when those are done, I’ll read more. The limit of 1 book is imposed because I tend to fall asleep reading and jumble the words, which the find amusing until they discover I can’t read anymore.
Tonight, I went in to escort Evelyn & her jellyfish, then read to them (not knowing exactly what was in store, I never do).
When we reached the top of the stairs, she goes in to my 16 yr old’s room first. “Embahlee, yookit, i got jellyfish. see jellyfish. yookit me bakstick (basket)” and she proceeds to show Emilee her basket and Emilee is notably impressed. Then we head out (cordial goodbyes and goodnights included) While I’m busy giving Emilee a goofy look, Evelyn is yelling to me from the hall “gum on mommy yets go” We arrive into the younger girl’s room and Evelyn goes from girl to girl, telling them about her jellyfish. They’re almost completely ignoring her and she’s annoyed, so I announce out loud. “Evelyn has caught some jellyfish in her basket and came all the way upstairs to show you girls.”
Within 5 minutes, we’re all sitting on the bed, pretending to catch fish in the ocean from our boat (the bed).
So yes, it’s true. We don’t have bedtimes.
But we do have bedtime rituals, which consist of enjoying each moment together until our bodies would rather sleep.
We sing songs, we make art projects, we watch documentaries, web videos, broadway shows and silent movies and old musicals or music videos, we draw or write or work out puzzles in schoolbooks or coloring books. Our bedtime stories, when we read them (sometimes 20 minutes a day, sometimes 90 minutes, sometimes zero minutes a day, even a week at times) may be fiction or nonfiction, color or black and white, classic or new or used, bought with allowance or given as a gift. They may be bestsellers, and sometimes they suck. Sometimes they’re not even in English, or a language we understand. It’s not about the books, it’s about the time we spend together. And falling asleep should be a pleasant part of one’s day.
So no, we don’t have a bedtime and we don’t fight about going to sleep. I’m not concerned about their sleeping habits because I don’t make a habit of scheduling things that will interfere with their natural sleepy times.
I’m not afraid that they won’t “learn to sleep” because they already know how to sleep. I don’t feel the need to manipulate their sleep times. It’s exhausting enough keeping up with their awake times.
After the deep-sea fishing expedition, we settled down. When the girls agreed upon tonight’s bedtime plan, we were to watch Dora the Explorer, then the 2nd half of Hannah Montana (they fell asleep last time, so we agreed that we’d have to watch the rest tonight)
The kids laughed at me when I mistakenly referred to “The Hoedown Throw Down” as “The Barnyard Stomp.” I was impressed that they knew the entire dance. That’s Gabriella’s favorite song. Because Gabriella got to play her favorite song for me, we needed to play Madelyn’s, too. She’s 6 and teeny, shrimpy, petite and squeaky. But she knows all the words to “The Climb” and I really had to fight back the tears. Who knew Hannah Montana had such a positive message? I sure hope she maintains her good-girl image.
Anyway, I asked the girls where they wanted the dolls (because the bed was covered with barbies, all of whom were arranged in rows, with swimsuits and beach blankets (made of socks and washcloths)
Grace swooshed them all off the bed into a pile in one motion. I started picking them up & said “Which toybox do these belong in?’ and Gabriella (not at all offended by Grace’s swooshing, by the way) said “They don’t go in a toybox, mom. They have a life, you know. They each go to their own houses, and she proceeded to place them all over the room, carefully into lifelike positions. The other girls seemed to know where each doll’s house is and what position they should be in. Most of the dolls were in beds, but some were sitting and reading, others were on their computer, one had to get in the car & drive all night to get to the airport and some were on the phone (presumably with each other)
The putting Barbies “away” took about ten minutes and when it was complete, I asked that the light be turned off so we could watch the movie. Someone pushed play & we watched the rest of the film, snuggled in together. By the time it ended, only I was awake.
I headed downstairs feeling like the luckiest mom in the world. When I hear other moms say “I know you don’t have a bedtime but I need to put my kids to bed at 7:30 or I will go crazy” I just shake my head. I’m not sure what they picture, but nothing is more fun or relaxing than allowing sleep to come, giving in to what the children want and just being present with them, approaching the end of the day with love and patience, allowing things to be put in order and letting love define the time, rather than the clock.
So what if it was almost 10:30 when I left their room. Instead of going in at 6am to wake them up (before the sun rises) for school, I get to sip my coffee (relishing one of the rare silent moments in my day) tiptoe in and kiss their foreheads. I get to make pancakes in peace and quiet, wondering which child will wake up to the smell & greet me with stinky kisses first. I’m not a morning person. Peacefulness and love, to begin and end each day, that’s what I need for my sanity.
Sometimes when homeschoolers or unschoolers are trying to explain how life and learning are naturally integrated, they use the example of cooking. I tried to intellectualize it in the article Cooking with Kids, but last night’s dinner hour was particularly good example of this “in action.”
All my girls love to cook. In fact, I was telling a friend the other day that sometimes we don’t have official “meals” because there’s someone cooking something all day long. A plate full of crackers with melted cheese, a blender full of fruit smoothies, a recipe someone saw on TV or invented from scratch. With so many people who like to cook, dividing our meals into specific menus really made it more work than is necessary.
Maddy (6) & Gabriella (8) like cook and serve food. When I am in my room working and the older girls are upstairs doing whatever t is older girls do (gossip, watch TV, write stories and song, dance or listen to music…) Maddy & Gabriella like to come around and offer everyone food.
Last night I was making dinner and Maddy came in, saying “I need a pan… the noodle-y kind”
In the past, I may have said “what for?” or otherwise grilled her, and come to the conclusion that since I’m making Dinner, she doesn’t need to cook. Instead, though, I just accepted that she needed a pan and decided to work on dinner alongside her, as equals.
So I opened the dishwasher (they rarely get a chance to cool off and get put away until we need them again) and I showed her all the clean noodle pans, she rejoiced with so much enthusiasm, saying “You are a master.” I thought that was pretty cute, but the conversation just kept getting better.
So we’re cooking together, she told Emilee that she’d make her a Top Ramen (blech) She knew how to prepare it all by herself. I wanted to carry the pan full of water for her, but we settled on having me bring it down from the sink. (me, being a control freak)
So she carried it to the stove, not missing a single drop. (physics)
Afterward, I said “Wow Maddy, I underestimated you. You really kept that balanced well” and she said “thank you. I know how to cook things because you showed me. I can just see you doing things and it makes me see that I can do them, too.” (self awareness, love of learning, gratitude, communication)
I was unloading the dishwasher when she said that and it was so relaxed and easy just being together. She was so proud, so articulate. (LIFE- kids are wiser than we give them credit for)
We made jello together, too. It was her first time making it. She was surprised that it was made with hot water because when she eats it, it’s cold. We discussed how the hot water melts the crystals and makes them swell up and the refrigeration glues them back together. (chemistry, physics) We measured water (doubling the recipe for math)
Both Maddy and Grace wanted to pour the crystals into the bowl. It takes 2 boxes for our family, so Grace (4) poured the first one and Maddy poured the second one. I pointed out that the pink Jello mix was the same color as their jammies. When we poured water into it, the girls pointed out that the red liquid was the same color as my shirt. We discussed the idea that everything pink turns red when wet and decided that it depends what it is. Pink toys won’t turn red. pink paint won’t turn red and their jammies would just look darker. (science, math, communication)
When the noodles she was making her sister were ready, I brought them out with a fork and asked “does she like the noodles with a lot of broth or a little? Maddy said a little and we both agreed that she preferred more firm noodles rather than mushy ones. Although Maddy likes them better mushy and I don’t like them at very much all. Maddy said “Everybody likes different things mommy, and that’s OK” (scientific observation, communication, Psychology)
Then she said “nobody would like cabbage and radish and (list of yucky things) in their noodles” so I said “there are some things everyone agrees upon, huh” I reminded her that perhaps in some country, some people eat that every day and it’s their favorite thing. (social studies)
She carried the soup upstairs to her sister, brought down the dirty dishes and said “Mom, I love cooking with you.”
These are the times that I wish more people understood. There’s no need to “make learning fun” because it already is. All we need to do is relax, and share our lives with our children. imagine- trying to pack all of that into a lesson plan for a first grader. Look at the insanity of standardized education. Look at what we would NOT have learned if I had said “I’m making dinner, sweetie. get out of the kitchen.”
————————-
Upstairs, while we were cooking Dinner and the three oldest were watching a movie, Emilee asked Gabriella (8) what she should put as her facebook status.
Gabriella’s response:
” follow your heart, your heart will lead you to where you want to go.”
Shhhhh… I once promised my oldest daughter that I’d never publish a picture of her on my blog without her permission. I just couldn’t resist this one, though. It looks like we’re parked at Albertson’s here, and she’s snapping photos of her dream car. Something about the silly shoes (sorry, dear, the artfully decorated shoes) and the yellow mustang just looked awesome to me. (She has great taste)
Sixteen
Luckily, she’s also informed us that ANYTHING with an engine and wheels will suffice. And she can wait until February, she says. What a lucky mamma I am.
——————————————————-
And now for the camera review portion of this post, whereby I qualify that I have not yet received the Nikon D90 that Nikon may or may not yet have decided to send me (emphasis on “yet”). This photo was, in fact taken with my old camera, I just stumbled upon it in my files today. If it was taken with the Nikon you’d surely see the aura of her desire for freedom and independence being cast upon the mustang.
Or maybe kids who text are smarter. Either way, apparently we can all relax when it comes to teens who communicate with messages like this:
hey
hey
wat r u up to?
nada, u?
gr8 day 2day. pizza 4 brkfst
cool
yeah
u goin 2 the dance?
no
why
idk- ru?
yeah
why
idk looks like fun
ok- g2g, cul8r
bye
Apparently- all that was a stimulating mental experience, like a critical thinking exercise. Connie Varnhagen, a researcher, discovered that whether a teen texts or not has absolutely NO bearing upon their reading, writing or spelling abilities. Actually, a bunch of researchers are discovering that not only is it “not a bad thing” but it might actually be “a good thing” because in some ways, the texting teens were smarter.
I haven’t read the studies, I tried to get to the source of one and realized that this is a blog not a research paper, so I don’t really have to find the real source, I can just make stuff up speculate and that’s OK.
I don’t know if the study took into consideration that the teens who can afford to text all day possibly come from homes with higher incomes, who tend to score better anyway (except my teen perhaps)
I could speculate that schools make the written language REEALLYY boring, but humans have a deep primal need to communicate with one another, so teens text (when I was a teen, we passed notes) and because it’s more interesting than schoolwork it stimulates their brains more, and is pleasurable because of the interaction. The decoding of cryptic acronyms is like a word puzzle. Stumping a friend with an acronym they haven’t heard yet probably gives teens an ego boost, inspiring both parties to continue.
20% of the when time I visit Suite101, one of the websites I write for, I see the somber face of Barry Schwartz in the upper left corner of the screen, who writes his feelings about psychology. He has written ten books on psychology, the most recent of which is called “The Paradox of Choice: Why More is Less.” His books espouse the theory that people are happier if they have less choices in life. He believes that having too many choices can lead to social unrest.
My big beef is that he’s not taking into account the fact that the people he’s studying were likely not allowed to make their own choices as children, and are therefore struggling with A- conflicting sense of obligation (which choice is right?) and B- lack of understanding of their own desires (I don’t know what I want, I want them all, I don’t want any of them) and C- Fear of making the wrong decision (as if ANY decision is that important) and D- lack of information (what’s the difference?) and E- Emotional stress (I feel like this one, but since when do my feelings matter?) all of which result in decision-paralysis.
The condition he’s talking about, where people are miserable because they “have too many choices” is actually the RESULT of having every decision made FOR them as children. Mr Schwarz hasn’t studied free children. I wish he would.
At the RE conference a few weeks ago, we had the opportunity to sit in on a panel of young adults who grew up unschooled. When I say young adults, they ranged from age 16 to 25 (ish- I could be wrong about the numbers) One thing that struck me while hearing them discuss their lives was the absurdity of my own expectations. I remember at that age thinking that I “must always have a plan” and that I always felt like I was “on the verge of living.” My oldest is not even sixteen and so many people are asking her about “her plans.”
Most adults can look back upon their life and see that they did NOT live according to their plan. I think out of six or seven unschooled young adults on the panel, two had “plans.” The rest made conscious decisions about how to live their lives, albeit with a consciousness very different than my 20 something consciousness.
What is it about our culture that says we must limit our own options by adhering to a plan or a goal, like “I want to be a veterinarian.” How about a principle that says “I will work with animals” and then an open mind that says “I will make decisions in my life that bring me closer to what I want (animals)” Wouldn’t that be a lot wiser than having a 16 year old decide “I want to be a veterinarian” and then commit the next 2 yrs of high school to classes that he needs for college, then the next 4+ years in college taking classes that bring him closer to the goal of being a veterinarian and then finally getting out of school and working as a veterinarian so that 6 years later he can say “I reached my goal” after having passed up several other opportunities to work with animals in the meantime. It’s a system that states that misery comes before pleasure. It’s born of the belief that you can’t simply “do what you want” you have to make decisions. furthermore, those decisions need to be made at a time in your life when you don’t have any experience or resources to draw upon.
My oldest decided that she wanted to be a pediatrician about a year ago. I jumped on it, and so did she. Devouring science books about biology, anatomy, she had a bunch of diseases memorized and she had a lot of fun learning about the human body, but then she changed her mind and was annoyed with me for getting caught up in it. I apologized, but I doubt she’ll share her next career goal with me. And that’s OK, I wouldn’t trust me either after this. Imagine- assuming that a 14 yr old knows what she wants to be when she grows up. She may, she may not. Why on earth would I want to lock her in a box like that?
The example I gave about the veterinarian is probably wrong in the numbers & requirements department, I really don’t know what it takes to be a veterinarian, but I know that half the kids in my 4th grade class wanted to be veterinarians. Why? Because it’s the most money you can make working with animals and as 4th graders, we knew that making money was important and we liked animals. Kids like animals. City kids don’t get to hang out with animals much. Horses, cows and goats may well just as well be unicorns and mermaids. We had pets, personally. I never wanted to be a vet. I’m just saying, it’s a popular kid-career-goal.
In his article The Impact of too many options in modern life, the author relates his story about buying blue jeans as an example that being faced with too many options has a negative effect. In fact, he believes it’s the reason that there are so many people who are clinically depressed.
To that, I say “poo poo.”
Mr Schwartz, you knew you wanted regular jeans upon walking into the jeans store. You had the option of simply purchasing the “regular jeans” you were directed to and ALLOWED yourself to spend half the day trying on different styles and cuts instead of simply getting what you wanted. The problem is that in all your life, no one had ever asked you what kind of jeans you wanted. The sales gal isn’t an expert in jeans, if she was, she’d probably take one look at you & say “you get the old geezer jeans” because you’re totally not the acid-washed, multi-zippered, flare legged type of guy. You can’t blame your own decision-paralysis upon the fact that you were presented with so many options. It’s not The Gap’s fault. The problem lies in the fact that you’d never been allowed to decide.
How on earth are people supposed to grow up in an environment where someone else decides what they eat, watch, read, play, think and wear and then be expected to walk into The Gap and know whether they want jeans that are loose, tight, baggy, flared, straight leg, low rise, five pocket…?
The trouble- Mr Schwartz- isn’t in the fact that there are so many options. The trouble is that people are TRAINED to have someone else make their decisions. Children in our country are TAUGHT to hold their urine until the bell rings, TAUGHT that their own preferences for foods are irrelevant. (You can’t have pizza because it’s Tuesday, Tuesday is taco day.) Children are TAUGHT that their interests don’t matter. Children are TAUGHT to withhold their desire to communicate with others (Speak when spoken to, no passing notes in class, raise your hand before you ask a question…)
I think Suite101 is trying to “look cool” by having bestselling authors in that corner spot. He only has two articles on the site, so maybe I’m bitter because there are writers with over a thousand ( I have like 136ish) and his grim looking face is one of five “spotlight” writers that rotate in and out of that position. It’s getting really old.
It doesn’t so much bother me that he’s there, but that his message is so skewed, so biased and backwards. To be honest, I haven’t read his books, all I read was the two articles he has on the site. Perhaps he DID study other cultures. Perhaps he DID make an effort to survey the decision-paralysis of people who had grown up with freedom to make their own decisions. I could be wrong. There are so few in the US, though, that I really doubt it. The ones I saw weren’t paralyzed by too many options, they were content. Driven by their own interests, without guilt, without second guessing themselves. They all had their own personality. Some were more socially driven than others, some more spiritually driven, and some more career-driven. I imagine that’s no different than any other panel of young adults would be. One thing I never ever ever heard them say was “My ____ thinks I should _____.” These “kids” had been raised to make their own decisions, so their focus as young adults wasn’t on “deciding what to do” they just DID IT. One older teen said “I live with my parents, so I don’t need to provide for myself, but I can see that one day I will want my own place, so then, I will.” The audience laughed at the simplicity of the statement, but it was truthful and the fact is that most 16 yr olds really have no business making a deeper commitment than that.
I know that when people ask my oldest daughter what she wants to be when she grows up, she’s stunned. She wants to work with kids, maybe. That’s the best answer I can come up with. But I am sure that somewhere, rolling around in her mind, there are ten thousand career options. Why should she choose now? Why should she spend a minute forcing herself into a decision? How many adults grow up and “be” just one thing? Knowing what she likes and dislikes, and having the freedom to follow her passions allows her to seize opportunities as they arise.
My Dad is wildly successful. He finished high school in 1971 and still dreams of college. In his life, he’s been a business owner, a salesman of cars, insurance, vacuum cleaners, alarm systems, tons of other stuff, a police officer, a firefighter, a corporate tax planner, a real estate agent and now he owns a commercial real estate brokerage firm. I imagine that at some point as a child, someone asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up and he said “A cowboy” because it was the 60’s and cowboy movies were popular. Last time I visited him, he said that he’s still dreaming of college, he wants to get a law degree when he retires so that he can write nasty letters on behalf of people victimized by politicians and stupid laws (something like that) and I have no doubt he’ll be good at it, he’s already practicing. (Scroll down, he’s 2nd to the last, Jim King) Either way, he’s a successful adult, and his life’s success isn’t based upon some plan he concocted as a teenager. He’s re-evaluated, planned, and basically taught himself how to follow his bliss. It’s an uphill battle, choosing things based upon your own pleasure when you’ve been taught that your happiness is irrelevant.
I find it so interesting… I read in a poll of parents that one of the biggest goals people had for their children was that – as adults, they are “Happy.” Other options on the survey were “wealthy, well traveled, religious…”
If happiness is such an important goal, why are so many children systematically having their happiness stolen? From crying it out in the crib, to “Hurry up and eat breakfast or you’ll miss the bus,” children are taught that their happiness is irrelevant by the same people who just want them to be happy. Life isn’t a journey, there is no destination, each moment matters.
Success is not the key to happiness. Happiness is the key to success. If you love what you are doing, you will be successful. (Albert Schweizer)
Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace and gratitude. (Denis Waitley)
If only we’d stop trying to be happy we’d have a pretty good time. (Edith Wharton)
The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance, the wise grows it under his feet. (James Oppenheim)
It is only possible to live happily ever after on a day to day basis. (Margaret Bonanno)
Whoever is happy will make others happy, too. (Mark Twain)
People spend a lifetime searching for happiness; looking for peace. They chase idle dreams, addictions, religions, even other people, hoping to fill the emptiness that plagues them. The irony is the only place they ever needed to search was within.(Ramona L. Anderson)
The amount of happiness that you have depends on the amount of freedom you have in your heart. (Thich Nhat Hanh)
Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy. (Thich Nhat Hanh)
If you observe a really happy man you will find him building a boat, writing a symphony, educating his son, growing double dahlias in his garden. He will not be searching for happiness as if it were a collar button that has rolled under the radiator (W. Beran Wolfe)
That is happiness; to be dissolved into something completely great. (Willa Cather)
Wow- can this have been the best day in our family’s life so far? We arrived at the loading dock for the ferry on time, since I misread the itinerary and didn’t realize that our crossing was figured into the time line. There’s nothing like thinking you’ll be driving for 2 hours and only ending up driving for an hour. Anyways, the hotel breakfast wasn’t much to speak of. I always realize what a picky eater I am at hotel breakfasts. Thank goodness it’s complimentary, and that my kids aren’t nearly as picky as I am. Give them some mini boxes of cereal, juice they can dispense themselves, individually wrapped tablespoons of cream cheese on cold bagels and my girls are in heaven. And coffee, with flavored creamers. Isn’t vacation fun? Crabby old me wants to wake up with PROTEIN- so I get a cold, hard-boiled egg. At least there’s that, though. Some places don’t even have that.
The ferry ride to the island was an adventure. Madelyn, always cautious, wanted to understand how all these heavy cars could possibly stay afloat. Gabriella was fascinated by the nesting birds at the dock- swooping down into the water to bring seaweed and small fish to their babies in the nests. We all wondered how the baby birds would be affected by nesting over water. (If their first flying lessons go awry, do they swim back to the pole and – then what?) We also wondered if Octopus Giganticus ate birds. We all got to play titanic, closing our eyes against the wind at the front of the boat, like flying.
Landing in Friday harbor was fun, it’s absolutely adorable. It’s so clean, there’s a fine of over $1000 for littering, which includes cigarette butts. The weather was perfect, and I mean P to the E to the R – you know what I mean, sunny but not too hot, slight breeze of fresh, clean ocean air with occasional whiffs of lavendar from the lavender farm store, absolutely beautiful.
Funny thing- we took a little stroll downtown, husband was hungry. They have a bunch of little shops and art galleries. We just kept walking past them. I was getting annoyed, so I said “Honey. maybe it’s a girl thing, but every time we walk past a store or gallery, we want to go inside. Some look less interesting than others, and we don’t have a schedule, but we can’t just keep walking past everything.” WHEW- he got it, and we all scattered into three different groups, to see the most recent place-that-was-calling-us-in. We LOVED the lavender store, but chose not to visit the farm. The homemade ice cream- well, after owning a gelato shop for several years, can I say I was totally NOT impressed with the homemade ice cream, but the man who owned the place was very nice. The art gallery was lovely- I’m not sure which one we went into, but my older girls learned of a shwimaanakku (spelling murder, sorry) legend, that they had to write down to look up, it involves a stone monument that they liked. We also saw a few souvenir shops, My oldest daughter spent her allowance on the coolest heart key chain thing, with beads- it’s called a “forever heart” I think and you can put different beads in it. I tried to convince her to get the “I love my mom” bead, but she insisted she’d rather have something red.
We got into the car and drove to the other side of the island for lunch. OMG- no mini marts, no corner stores, no nothing. It’s pristine and absolutely amazing, we were in heaven. We stopped our car in the middle of the forest to look at a very young deer, who just looked back at us while he chewed. I snapped a picture, but he’s kind of hard to see. The whole island is a preserve, no hunting. The deer wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of us.
On the other side of the island, in Roche Harbor, we ate lunch at the marina, tasting life on the “other side” of financial freedom. One day, when I grow up, I wanna sail the world in my Yacht. If you promise not to steal the name, I’ll tell you. It’s called “Nauta Yittle” And it’s bad ass, too. I’m sure I’ll post pictures when I buy it.
Unschooling at Roche Harbor
The kids were eager to show us the marine life that had built its home under the dock. Funny- I brought all these books about exploring tidepools, field guides to insects, trees, birds and wildlife. I tried getting the kids interested in the books on the way there “Here- check out all the cool stuff we’re going to see” and not a single one of them took a bite. After we laid on the dock watching these things, they had to look up the names, and make sure I was right about anenomes (whew- I read the books, OK) I don’t think we figured out the name of the “palm tree worms” yet.
Anyways, I have to get dressed & ready now for today’s adventure- Port Townsend. Here’s a picture of the 5 oldest girls, Gabriella just HAD to go down to the water’s edge “Mom- I NEED to turn rocks over and touch things.” Who can say no to that? When she emerged from underneath, a family, just stepping off of their yacht, was quite surprised to see this heathen child, filthy from some muck. We groaned “OMG Bubba- look at you” She was thrilled with whatever treasure she had in her hands (a giant clam, I think- alive) and the 20something young man in the crowd thought she was just the coolest kid ever, she loved it. We rinsed her feet off with the hose at a pristine little garden, Gabriella was proud when I asked for the hose. “We have a future scientist here, researching…. muck. Can I please use your hose?”
Future scientist explores roche harbor hands on
Anyways, I gotta go, I will have to write more in the car, it was an amazing day. Our family needed this, thank heaven for digital photography. I think the picture that captures the feeling of bliss the best may just be the one one I put first here- of seeing my kids & my husband lying on the dock, getting an up-close look at the sea life. Hmmm- later I’ll add the lighthouse pictures. What a perfect day.
Last weekend was a busy weekend on stage for the Russell girls. On the Friday before Mother’s Day, Emilee played Sleeping Beauty in a local production of Cinderella (Or how a guy named Pauly turned out to be a fairly good fairy godmother) She’s in the big pink froofy bridesmaid dress, centerstage. The show is interactive, and with an audience of children they tend to get, um, noisy. My hats off to the cast who was able to integrate the audience into the show, it was great, from what I saw. Evelyn was running circles trying to escape, she loves the playground, and the show was in an elementary school auditorium. She was running around like crazy.
I’m so glad she was able to participate in this production, she had so much fun. She actually pulled a few all-nighters and painted all of the backdrops for the set, too. I was proud of how she managed her time and made conscious, planned-out decisions about how to execute the task.
melody lane singers yakima
On the same exact day, Meagan was 3 hours away in Seattle. She was on the Melody lane Spring singing tour. They visited Safeco Field, saw a show at the Seattle Children’s Theatre, and did lots of other stuff. I’m sorry, all I really know is the drop off time, the pickup time and the shirts were bright gold. She performed- somewhere. She had fun. She took a thousand pictures.
On Mothers Day, Emilee sang at church. It was the Beatles Song “Maybe I’m amazed” but they changed some of the words around to include the word “mother.” Once again, Evelyn was being wild in the pews, so I missed a lot from the wiggling, but that’s OK I would have just cried anyways.
Weekends like this make me long for the city even more. The girls are so “in their element” on stage. Being that I didn’t witness Meagan’s show, I could be wrong. Meagan’s in her element whenever there are several giggling girls and a few cute boys around. Still, once we get to the coast, I know the girls will enjoy that there are more opportunities to perform there. Until then, we’ll continue working the local scene. See you at the show, I’ll be the one chasing the baby in the back.
Emilee and Meagan take ten thousand pictures of themselves and of each other all the time, but I thought I’d share these because they’re particularly fantastic. Somehow- the stormy weather, the outfit and makeup, with the black-and-white seemed to make each of these shots just beautiful. Meagan is modeling and Emilee is the photographer, I think they made a great team. My mom took a few to work and someone said “This one looks like the cover for a movie I’d want to see” which I thought was a cute compliment. I’d wanna see the movie, too:) I hope you enjoy the pictures.
I’ve never been the type of person to feel patriotism deep in my heart because, well, our country sucks in a lot of ways. There’s politics, and corruption. There’s the whole drug-company mess and the fact that we spend more per person on medical care, but our maternal/infant mortality rate is worse than all but 27 other industrialized nations. There’s a drug for everything, and our government subsidizes JUNK FOOD. Did you know that in the state of Washington, if a woman on state-funded medic-aid wants to have her tubes tied, she has to wait 30 days, so she can “think about it” Excuse the hell out of me but didn’t she think about it before she asked for the procedure?
This week, however, I have grown increasingly more grateful for the standard of living we take for granted.
I’ve been a volunteer with Girl Scouts for almost 8 years (call me for cookies) and this year I was given the task of making little passports for the international celebration of the World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts “World Thinking Day.” It’s designed to promote sisterhood by having girls spend a day thinking about Girl Guides and Girl Scouts in other countries.
In our area, each girl chooses a country and makes a tabletop booth display, does a little skit, recites something or does a little dance performance and brings food samples from each country. I don’t know how many of the leaders really impress upon the girls what the deeper meaning of the celebration is supposed to be about. I never did as a leader. Creating the booth, the skit, and coordinating the food samples was enough for me.
This year, though, I made the passports. Each girl wore one around her neck and got it stamped at each table, to indicate that she’d sampled the snack and visited the booth.
In the passports, I pasted they symbols from each Girl Scouting organization all around the world. Before I discovered that I could find the symbols on Wikipedia, I was visiting the websites for the girl scout organizations in each country. I felt quite clever, using a website translator so I could actually read foreign text.
I was shocked.
Stop the Spread of Diseases, World Thinking Day 2009
Our girls are learning how to make dolls from yarn. Girls in Africa are learning how to prevent and deal with severe, crippling anemia. Our girls are learning about careers in Math and Science. Girls around the world are learning how to avoid getting AIDS. Do you have any idea how many children in Africa are dying from AIDS? One of our former employees visited Africa and told us of a traveling “minister” who would tell men that the only way they could get rid of AIDS is to give it to a child. [insert very long dramatic pause here, reread that last sentence.] Girls around the world are learning that all water is not safe for drinking. Imagine living somewhere where you can’t just turn on the tap. Girls around the world are learning survival skills, because they have to.
Girl Scouts learn to Make the World a Better Place at Thinking Day Celebrations
Where we live, Girl Scouts is primarily an extra-curricular activity, and we always strive to do more community service. But do our girls really NEED what we have to offer. It’s not likely that any little girl in the USA will die from drinking water she pumps from a well. After walking miles and miles to fetch it for her family. Our girls are focused on achievement, and rush around earning patch after patch to iron (not sew) onto their uniforms so that they can publicly display their accomplishments. A girl in Africa learns how to purify water, and then goes home where she uses that skill to keep her baby siblings alive, maybe her mother, and one day her own children, providing they are all able to avoid getting AIDS.
Our girls have other needs, though. They need more adults in their life that listen to them. Parents are busy. Girl Scout meetings often have 3-5 women and 5-12 little girls. There’s companionship and playfulness and silliness and friendships that cross age boundaries. I love that my girl friends have separate relationships with my daughters. I love having special relationships with my friend’s daughters. I think we all need that.
Maybe our food drives, blanket drives, and leaf raking service projects aren’t as vital as purifying water. Maybe they are. It’s all a labor of love. Next time Thinking Day rolls around, though, I plan to make more of an effort to make sure more girls in our area understand the significance of the day, so that maybe when they’re my age patriotism won’t be something their heart can’t grasp. And maybe then the world will be a better place.
But I really do not want to drive with my daughter. Does that make me a bad mom? I am sure she’s a fine driver in the little VW’s they have at driving school but in MY BIG SUBURBAN she gets just a little too close to things on the right side.
So the entire time the vehicle is moving I’m clenching my fists, gasping, and sheeshing and almost screaming in fear, saying the first half of words like “OHMIGOSHGETOVER” and “AAAAHAHAHAAHHHH” and leaning over to the left, like the car will sway to safety from my weight.
Daughter says “Relax, mom. Gosh it’s not like we’re going to die or anything.”
And I say (quite honestly) “I’m afraid you’re going to scratch my car”
Because dying isn’t that big of a deal? No, it’s just not a likely outcome from bumping into everything on the right side of the vehicle. Thank goodness we’re not living in Europe or we’d be in mortal danger for sure.
I can totally say that I am an OLD OLD OLD lady today and feel it deep in my heart.
So I’m parked at 9pm, waiting for my oldest daughter. Several other 15-16 year old kids are coming out of the building. Some of them are giggling, some are text messaging, some are just wearing a naive, goofy, beautiful smile of someone who hasn’t a care in the world and just finished their first night at DRIVING SCHOOL.
I am so not ready for this.
Driving down our long dirt driveway is one thing. But actual driving on the road is another. And I looked very closely at all those other kids and I don’t think I want them driving either. And I don’t want my kid in the car with them. What is this world coming to? You should have seen these kids. They were all like, zitty and um, you know, 15ish. And I suspect that all my kids are going to do this one day, just, be, like um drivers and everything. Waaaaaaahaaaaaaaa. I feel so old. Would it be wrong of me to send a few headbands into the car with them because those boys can’t possibly have a full range of peripheral vision with those shaggy haircuts.
So on another note, which is really the same note because it’s the same daughter. guess where she wants to drive herself? Medical School.
She’s always planned to be a singer when she grows up, but I never contributed much to that conversation because- well- Britney Spears scares me. And honestly, her voice is fantastic, totally beautiful. But really, how the heck do you make it as a singer?
So a few weeks ago, I casually (I really was casual about it) asked her if she’s thought about her plan yet. She said no, but she was thinking about it. And that was the end of the conversation.
Apparently her and her friends have been discussing their plans because the other day she comes to me and says “I have a plan now.” And I’m trying to cross my fingers and toes that it’s not the singing thing, and suddenly she says “I’m doing to be a doctor.” And I’m all like woohoo on the inside but on the outside, I’m saying “Cool. Like House” Because I’m thinking if I act all excited she’ll change her mind. So she starts rambling on and on about all the research she’s done into different specialties, and she wants to know the difference between an Obstetrician (they’re the ones that deliver babies, mom) and a midwife, then she wants to tell me that an ultrasound tech is the highest paid with the least amount of schooling in the medical field, and then bla bla bla bla bla, apparently she’s been doing some research on the matter.
Back in the day when we thought we’d be moving sooner, she was accepted as a volunteer at the hospital, but decided not to do it because there’s a lot of training and we would have been leaving shortly afterward. So now, she’s planning to re-volunteer.
One of her best friends has a plan, too. I don’t remember the details, but starting a rock band was part of it. Whew, we missed it by THAT much.
I guess it’s a good thing I re-downloaded that homeschool tracking software for her transcripts. Here’s where I curse the stupid laptop stealing jerk again. Do you know how time-consuming it is to enter all that information? And while we’re on the homeschooling topic, Maddy is reading on her own now. Today she was just reading the side of the cereal box. In my mind it only counts as official independence when they’re reading something I didn’t tell them to read. 4 down, 2 to go.
And I try not to teach my kids that certain choices are “wrong.”
Recent Comments