"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.
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For the record, none of us are obese, or even the slightest bit overweight.
In the book “Give me Liberty” by Gerry Spence, which isn’t about parenting at all, it’s about freedom from the profit-driven clutches of corporations and governments, he says;
“Children, as persons, are entitled to the greatest respect. Children are given to us as free-flying souls, but then we clip their wings like we domesticate the wild mallard. Children should become the role-models for us, their parents, for they are coated with the spirit from which they came- out of the ether, clean, innocent, brimming with the delight of life, aware of the beauty of the simplest thing; a snail, a bud, a shadow in the garden. Children are the closest thing to angels.”
Small children ’s minds clearly live less “in their body” than adult’s. Adults are acutely aware of their own bodies and minds – analyzing its sensations, thoughts and feelings. Kids rarely think of such things. Have you ever heard a child ask “Why do I do that?” They think more about the next fun experience. Sure, some kids may have physical sensitivities to certain fabrics, sounds or foods, but they don’t THINK about it, they just seek comfort. They experience feelings, but they don’t over-analyze them. They just seek happiness. Duh.
instead of teaching kids OUR world view, we need to allow them to see the world through the eyes they were born with, and listen intently to what they're telling us.
Some people would have you believe that kids are selfish, sinful or naturally bad, in need of ‘training” but that couldn’t be further from the truth. At their essence, they are creators. Kids are givers. When people see “bad” in children, it’s a gross and self-centered misinterpretation of the child’s actions and NOT a representation of the child’s inner self. Parenting from a position that believes children are inherently evil will NEVER help a child to be their best, EVER. It’s a self-fulfilling prophesy. These people never see the true soul of their own children because they allow a preconceived notion to cloud their vision. So their children grow up doubting their own inner goodness, free from the responsibility or benefits of peaceful or happy relations because they believe that at their core, that they’re flawed. YOU are not flawed at the core. No matter what your religion has told you. You are infinitely perfect and every experience, no matter what your analytical mind has labeled it, just IS, and isn’t bad or good, it just IS. My favorite part of the audio version of Rhonda Byrne’s book The Secret is the sound of Lisa Nichols’ voice saying
“And your spirit is so big that it fills a room*” (with a blissful giggle that brings out the irony in the idea that anyone could ever feel small or insignificant)
Life isn’t about forcing people to do what you want. It should be about fully experiencing (LIVING) every minute of whatever it means to you to be ALIVE. This includes your amazing children, experiencing them while allowing them to experience their own (paralell) reality.
Inherently evil?
I love how Maddy (7) asks so many questions. In 5 minutes she’s asked me a hundred. “Mom, what’s an errand?” I answered her, then she repeated it back to me in a question. “like if I said ‘I have to run an errand’ it means I need to go do something important somewhere else real quick?” and I confirmed her interpretation. I can’t imagine giving her a list of vocabulary words or asking her to write a sentence for every word on a list (which would be MY list, not hers) Talking, verbal communication, it’s one thing that makes us human, civilized. Why on earth are “schoolers” (not to be confused with scholars, whom I still respect) OK with the idea of interfering with the communication skills of a 7 yr old? How could anyone imagine that ANY list of words would ever meet my child’s need to understand the language in the world around her.
After our little conversation, she stews in her mind a bit, the wheels are turning and she asks me another random question “Did you and dad know each other when you were kids?” and a little later she says “I probably have to google this, but do you know if whales see the way people see?” I had no idea, but I made a mental note of the fact that she realizes the limitations of my knowledge and knows how to research) so we googled it. We never found the answer, because she got sidetracked by videos of whale songs.
Every question doesn’t need an answer. Sometimes questions just lead to more questions and it’s OK. Nothing in real life ever resembles an end-of-the-chapter test.
Birds fly, fish swim and humans learn. -John Holt
Her questioning takes a considerable amount of time every day. She usually hangs out with me in the evening when I’m cleaning the kitchen, grilling me on world history, US history, science, family history, word meanings and telling me all about her doll’s relationships, careers and lifestyles.
Last night, there was something stuck to the burner- I’d wiped it down earlier but I think I got something on it, so it was smoking up the kitchen and it smelled bad. I walk into the kitchen thinking “what the hell is wrong in here, yuck now I have to breathe this $#!+” but I didn’t say it because I was busy listening to her rattle on about something- a story about how our friend Nikki lost her first tooth (For the record, she bit into a taco shell when she was 7 . Nikkie & Maddy share a birthday, and she’s really fun, so it makes Maddy feel special to have her as a friend and Maddy wants to lose her tooth on a taco shell now, so we’re having tacos for dinner)
Anyway, so I keep it to myself- about the smoke- and she walks through the door right behind me. You’d think she just opened the door to the Emerald City of Oz and wasn’t sure if she wanted to go home or not. “MOM- there are a million fairies in the air,” she says, in a lowered voice, lest she break the spell. She points out the sun rays piercing through a thinner patch of smoke and suddenly she’s overcome, enchanted; she’s a fairy. Her arms are raised in bliss and her head is tilted up to the receive the light, and she’s slowly spinning and humming, like angels were singing to her in her head.
To her, the smoky kitchen is beautiful, an amazing thing of wonder. To me, she is the thing of wonder. She’s soaking up the wonder and feeding it right back to me. How can anyone think kids are bad? There’s no bliss quite like experiencing the world through the lens of a child.
*”We often get distracted with this thing called our body and our physical being. That just HOLDS your spirit. And your spirit is so big it fills a room. You are eternal life. You are God manifested in human form, made to perfection.”- Lisa Nichols, The Secret
So the other day I was feeling defeated in the “Trying-to-be-my-best” category. I was probably tired. Probably because my husband was out of town leaving me to do everything by myself. I fell asleep wondering why I even bother.
We all have days like that.
I awoke about half an hour after I laid down to a high pitched scream right in my ear. Evelyn had a nightmare, I guess. She was crying “it’s gone” and “she taked it.”
I was shooshing her. Not very nicely, either. I think I said “Oh my god go to sleep.” With Daddy gone, my room turns into a King-sized nest. Grace (4) sits up, bleary eyes and pats Evelyn on the back and says “It’s gone?” Evelyn replies “yeah.” and Grace says “I will get it for you, just lay down sweetie. I love you.” And Evelyn lays down and goes right back to sleep. Gabriella lays her hand on my cheek and says (still half asleep) “Mom, you are the best person in the world.” I said “Thank you honey” feeling totally unworthy but flattered nonetheless.
That’s why I even bother. If even one of these kids is going to grow up thinking I’m awesome, I damned well better do my best to live up top that.
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.
A few years ago, when Grace (now 4) was a baby I drove all 5 kids down to California. I was a bit nervous about being 1200 miles from home and not having another adult to share road-trip responsibilities. Think about it; every potty break for 1200 miles involved unbuckling 3 kids in car seats and bringing 6 people into a public bathroom. We had a blast, though. We had a cooler filled with car snacks, we made a CD of the kids’ favorite music and we stayed overnight at a hotel with a swimming pool. I wasn’t even gone one night, though when I started missing my husband.
Valentine's Chocolate for Kids
He was building our second restaurant and spent over 12 hours a day, 7 days a week on construction. My mission in California was to pick up a uhaul trailer, a pizza prep fridge, empty our storage unit (collecting dust for 8 years), spend a week at a beach house in San Diego with my Dad and attend my sister’s wedding.
The trip was a big deal for me, being alone and fully responsible for all 5 kids, missing my husband and visiting family alone was strange. Checking into a hotel as the only adult with 5 kids was strange, renting a uHaul trailer was strange. These were grown-up things that I just had never done before, alone.
The time we spent at the beach was wonderful. My Dad and step mom are amazing, two of my favorite people in the world. When they married, He had two teenage daughters (me & my sister) and she had two teenage sons and a 7 yr old daughter. We’re all grown now, that week at the beach was so much fun, I’d never even met my brothers’ wives before and since then they’ve each had babies.
At my sister’s wedding I was in an odd mood. I was missing my husband and a little annoyed with my sister’s obsessive attention to detail. She wasn’t a bridezilla, but I still wasn’t very tolerant of her that weekend. Somehow dressing and grooming myself plus 5 children seemed a little more worthy-of-whining than whatever she was complaining about. I think I held it together, I kept telling myself “That’s just how she is” and “Her intentions are pure.” She wasn’t trying to stress anyone out, she just wanted things perfect. She’s changed so much since she’s become a mother. I hope now that she rolls with the punches a little better.
Valentines for my Kids
It was wonderful being there with my sister & mother. Before that point, it had been years since I’d seen her and many more years since I’d seen the two of them together. The late nights we spent at my sister’s house that weekend will never be forgotten, we played games, chatted (was there wine?- so much for remembering) and my kids entertained us. Still- the mood was weird; away from home, alone with all the kids, seeing people I hadn’t seen in forever. It was just a weird mood.
At the reception (which was lovely) my dad made a speech that’s echoed back to me so many times. Perhaps my weird mood made it stick in my mind. Either way, my Dad is a really good speaker. I I wish I’d inherited that trait. He knows how to keep a crowd’s attention, how to tell a story and how to stay on topic. He starts off entertaining and ends with applause, every time. He’s always done well in sales and never had trouble with the ladies.
Dad & Vicki went through 3 different spouses (collectively) until they found one another. His speech (or was it a toast?) mainly said that it’s important to show people how much you love them.
“Every day I try to out-love her and every day she beats me at it. One day I get up to make her breakfast and she’s got my breakfast & coffee on a tray, my computer fired up for work and my favorite towel hanging in the bathroom.” (And my quote may totally be remembered wrong, but that’s close enough)
I knew they were very loving, several years ago I remember her staring into his eyes and saying “I’d eat bees for you, babe” and it was the sweetest thing.
Anyway, that speech and the idea of competitive love-showing has brought me so much joy over the past few years.
I used to think divorce was a sign of failure. I used to think it was awful, giving up like that. In spite of that belief, whenever our marriage was in trouble I’d always be the one who wanted to run away. I think Dad’s speech, and the echo of it playing in my head for 4 years, has made a big difference.
It was such a profound idea, the idea of constantly showing love, that it took him 3 marriages to figure it out. Everything happens for a reason and I think, today, that every spouse and ex-spouse in my parental background is better off, shaped by the people they’ve chosen to love. I’m no longer feeling critical of their “failed” marriages because the things they learned about themselves, about love and about life are successes, by any measure.
I’m also no longer compelled to feel “unloved” by my husband whenever we disagree. It took a lot of fighting for us to come to a place of constant communication, but we’re here. Fighting isn’t failing, it’s just an aggressive attempt to learn how to get along. In every fight, isn’t there a seed of wanting peace?
Our kids have taught us the value of constantly showing our love, too. Love letters are always being exchanged in our house. A couple months ago I bought a few heart-shaped platters. They were a hit; whenever I serve food on them the kids think it’s special. My mom gifted the children with their own teeny little mailboxes and they’re always sending each other love notes.
This year for Valentine’s day I picked up a sake set covered in hearts for the kids. We’re going to have a tea party (because they love tea parties) I doubt these dishes will ever see real sake, but the kids will love that the cups are teeny and the hearts will remind them that they are loved.
Maybe some day my husband and I will go out for a romantic Valentine’s Day Dinner. There’s plenty of time for that when the kids are grown. Until then, we’re surrounded by love, and the little picture of my sister’s wedding serves as a reminder each time I see it that maybe, if I get up early enough and don’t get caught, I can sneak in more love-showing than anyone in the family. Because that’s how I want to roll.
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Here are a few sample love letters I’m using for my kids. I’ve tried to steer clear of labeling “you’re so ____” and make them expressions of love, rather than pride. Enjoy…
Dear_________,
I love you. I’m having a lot of fun being your mommy. I like the stories you tell me and I’m glad you enjoy your new haircut. I’m looking forward to many more years as your mommy.
Dear________,
Happy Valentine’s Day. I wanted to tell you that I’m glad to be your mommy. I noticed that you enjoy chocolate, so I hope you like this gift. Thank you for being my kid.
Dear _________,
Hello, this is mom. I have a message for you. You are special to me. Every day I am happy to have you in our family. I hope you are happy to be here, too.
Dear________,
I’ve had so much fun watching you grow up. You might think you have a lot to learn, but I am learning so much from you. We can never know what lies ahead, only what lies within and I’ve noticed that within you, you have so many gifts and talents. Watching you use them and share them with the world is truly one of the best things about being a mother.
Dear_______,
Thank you for being you. I know it sounds lame, but sometimes you are exactly who I need to be around. I’m so glad that you share so much of your life and your thoughts with me. I might tease you about talking so much, but to be honest, no day would be complete without your narrative. I love listening to the way you think and your perceptions about the world. Every day, you amaze me with your insights, I’m very lucky to be learning from you.
Valentines for Teens
So what are you doing to show your kids love this Valentine’s Day? I used to be annoyed with Hallmark and retailers for commercializing Valentine’s Day. I used to feel that they “took the meaning away” by including loves other than romantic love. I feel so differently today, though. Love knows no limits, the show of love should also be limitless. Romantic love grows into big family love, if you’re lucky.
I don’t even know why I’m bothering to write this because my feedburner subscription thing is all messed up and I’m not sure how to fix it, so probably no one will even know this is here. It could be google’s fault.
Either way, I have to say that I hate kids menus. I know that YOU know that I hate school foods (and pretty soon I need to talk about that word ‘hate’ again) but restaurant kids menus suck. In fact, they might be downright abusive.
Imagine you’re on vacation, right, and you dine at a different restaurant every night. Different decor, different elevator music, different servers with different utensils, different cups and different ambiance. Everyone at your table is enjoying colorful plates with an every-changing flavor profile, different smells, different textures and even unpronounceable foreign food names and funky garnishes.
On your plate, however, are chicken fingers, macaroni and cheese, grilled american cheese on white bread, shitty pizza or overcooked spaghetti.
It should be illegal.
There should be a kids’ menu seal-of-approval stating that at Chinese restaurants, kids need CHINESE FOOD (in smaller portions- and not that red sugared chicken or pork) at Italian restaurants, kids need something with ACTUAL tomato, garlic or herbal flavor. At Sushi restaurants the kids need REAL sushi, they can even put mangoes in it, or gummy bears, who cares? As long as it’s not a chicken finger.
Why do we torture kids by only offering things that suck?
When my oldest was about 3, I took her to red lobster for lunch. It was just the two of us. I was probably pregnant and craving something. The server looked at us like we were from the moon when my daughter wanted Caesar salad instead of applesauce. Seriously, applesauce at a restaurant.
And why does everything on the kids menu come with french fries? Can’t we get fries at McDonalds? Aren’t potatoes like the cheapest food on the planet (I usually pay $1 for 5 lbs) so why do they sell 2-3 potatoes worth of fries for $3-$4? And why is it that people just ACCEPT that kids have no taste buds?
When I was making the kids menus for our restaurant, I tried to pull smaller portion items that were already on the menu and we didn’t get complaints about it, except that some parents requested no sauce. I always put it on the side because I think kids should be allowed (not forced) to at least TRY it.
When parents decide that their kids are picky, they sometimes pigeonhole them. I’ve heard so many parents look over the menu and say “You want noodles?” instead of saying “They have ravioli, pizza, little salads, steamed asparagus, soup…”
We hardly EVER go out to eat these days, unless we’re traveling. All over the country, kids eat the same brown and white foods (with basically no nutrition) while adults enjoy the delicious goodness of different regional and ethnic foods.
Back in the day when we used to eat out a lot (When we were spending 12-18 hours a day working at the restaurant and couldn’t bear the idea of cooking at home) we’d have our kids split real food items from the adult menu, or order from the side dishes or appetizer menu. They might not get the glow-in-the-dark plastic cup with the twisty straw, but the food was good, and all our kids have a taste for different foods, an eagerness to taste new things. Plus, we love leftovers
I really love it when I realize I’m failing at something because it gives me a clear and present opportunity to improve. Seriously.
So a friend of mine, who is enrolled in a political science class, emails me to send me a quote from a Supreme court judge who is dealing with a case where a high school student was suing for a 1st amendment violation. The quote is:
when States developed public education systems in the early 1800’s, no one doubted the government’s ability to educate and discipline children as private schools did. Like their private counterparts, early public schools were not places for freewheeling debates or exploration of competing ideas. Rather, teachers instilled “a core of common values” in students and taught them self-control. Reese 23; A. Potter & G. Emerson, The School and the Schoolmaster: A Man-ual 125 (1843) (“By its discipline it contributes, insensibly, to generate a spirit of subordination to lawful authority, a power of self-control, and a habit of postponing present indulgence to a greater future good . . .”
By that measure, apparently, schools really are succeeding. They’re reaching their initial goal, as planned, to raise generations of Americans who don’t debate or ask questions, blindly trusting their leadership. So there it is.
Me being me, however, I kept replaying the words in my mind throughout the day, emphasizing each syllable differently, to see if the meaning could possibly be anything else, more innocent, more sinister, ANYTHING.
I’m moving through my “tasks-I-do-when-the-kids-are-very-involved-in-something” like hanging the laundry and doing the dishes. The kids were making miniature books upstairs, measuring, cutting, planning, designing… I overhear a fight between the girls and I listen long enough to get the gist of it and then I head upstairs to “say something.”
I swear, I should just keep my mouth shut. Why am I homeschooling when words of wisdom like this can extinguish any debate and communication that my kids DESERVE to engage in. Here’s what I said:
“I am sure that when she called it her room she wasn’t trying to minimize the fact that it’s your room, too. Stop picking apart every word that she says and trying to make it into a fight. So she said it was her room. Big deal. it’s your room, too. And just because she says “my room” that doesn’t make it any less “your room”
Then I went downstairs. Surely in my wake they were filed with peacefulness at having the situation resolved, right? Fat chance.
So in one bossy-mom-sick-of-hearing-the-arguing-incident, I managed to squash one of my favorite personal traits, and that is the picking-apart-of-language-to-get-the-deeper-meaning and also, standing up for oneself, defending property and debating semantics…. all of it, out the window, just because my sensitive ears were bothered.
Debate is so very important for civilized society. I hate conflict, my sister and I fought a lot as kids. Is there a link? We always got in trouble for fighting. Does that matter? As a mom I am always wanting to protect my kids (even from one another), but when I look back at my childhood, I don’t remember very much fighting. I don’t think I was as much influenced by the fights as I was by the feeling that “fighting is bad.”
I am so sick, today, of examining every thought I have in order to determine whether or not it’s worth keeping or tossing. The inclination to squash their fights and sort things out for them definitely needs to go. Sibling rivalry is totally a healthy way to learn about communication. Animal siblings do it and humans should, too.
Had their fight continued, they both might have come away with a deeper understanding of the need to communicate precisely. They might have physically hurt one another. They might have come away bitter about the distinction between mine and yours. they might have revisited the argument months later when the other sister made the dire mistake of saying “my room” instead of “our room” or perhaps the room-claimer would have been able to explain her way out of it, or apologize. Either way. I shouldn’t have stepped in. Kids have the right to communicate their feelings with one another honestly and openly. The best thing I can probably do for them is to model communication skills. Eventually, they’ll copy. I see this every day, they copy my good and my bad “behavior.”
This is their journey, not mine. If they feel the need to say hurtful things to one another, they deserve to see the honest result of that decision, not ME standing there, passing judgment upon their character, criticizing their instinctive communication, evaluating their worth, or predicting a life of misery.
I reserve the right, though, to call it like I see it. Instead of “seeing” a fight that needs resolved, I could have chosen to see “kids that could use some apple juice” and shouted upstairs to see who wants some.
While I probably won’t be marching upstairs to force peace upon them anymore (especially if I get an ipod for Xmas) I can totally discuss conflict resolution methods with them during peaceful times. In fact, we do that all the time.
This is where media comes in. Books, television and movies are filled with conflict and almost always, the viewers can think of different ways that the main character could have handled the situation.
The Thomas Jefferson method of homeschooling, which, along with the trivium, is the backbone for all classical education curricula, is highly dependent upon discussion. That’s right, talking. Our house sounds like a hen house sometimes with all of the girls involved in lengthy debates over the books they’re reading or the movies they’ve seen.
(Hey- another reason I need an ipod, my older girls & I can listen to audio books)
Anyway- the literature and books you read, discuss and debate become part of you. Some families use this as an excuse for limiting the books they allow their children to readfall in love with learn from. A lady in our local homeschool group wouldn’t let her son read Harry Potter because of this. I’m so NOT into censorship, and I believe that there’s good to be found in everything. We loved Harry Potter, and saw every movie the minute it opened, waited in line at midnight for the books to be released (in costume, no less) Our debates and discussions about the HP series were fantastic, and none of us came away with thoughts of malice. How could we?
So if anyone can name a book or movie where the characters debate everything based upon the meanings of the words, something that my 9 and 6-yr-olds would appreciate, then please let me know. Because this is the depth of how far I feel comfortable intervening. I can’t wait to look back & say “remember when you girls used to fight about every single word.” Hopefully the end result will be a deep and full understanding of the workings of language and increased, tried-and-tested communication skills.
And the pointless after-words: (because I don’t “do” short stories very well) is that on November 19th he went in and once January rolls around we can be quite sure and positive that every last one of them will be gone and we can MOVE ON from this phase in life (as much as we love it, of course)
Trying to explain to the kids was funny, though. They like to wrestle with him and jump on him. Madelyn (6) was worried to pieces when she heard he had surgery, she thought for sure there was something wrong. I mean, people don’t just GET surgery for no reason, right?
And Grace (4) was concerned that we “didn’t want any more kids.” She thought we were saying that we “don’t want kids anymore” and she was crying, she said “But we still want you” and it was the most adorable, pathetic thing, she just about broke my heart.
I spent some time reassuring her and explaining it a little more, I am sure that she understands better now. It’s just a reminder to take the time to communicate with kids (to their understanding) and to stay “connected” to be sure that they’re feeling secure and safe.
So anyway- that’s the biggest thing I am thankful for. Here are a few others:
1- I’m grateful for the luxury to work from home, control my own income and set my own hours, I wish I could share that with more moms.
2- I’m grateful that even though our families are all so far away, we’re able to keep in touch over Facebook and the kids can have relationships with our families, too even though we rarely see them in real life.
3- I’m grateful for my kids who are so fun to be around. Nothing is more fun than watching them grow up and embrace this amazing world that we live in. I love their righteous indignation at the world’s injustices. I love their questioning nature, grilling me for details so they can come to their own conclusions. I love to see their passions develop, to watch them learn about the world simply by doing what they enjoy. I love how quickly they notice the beauty in everything around them.
I see a rock, they see a million colorful spots all coming together into one mass that looks gray from just a few inches away. I see a ladybug and they see a small life, crawling along for a reason. They wonder where he’s going and why. They wonder what he’s feeling- is he scared of them? I wonder if I should step on it.
4- I’m grateful for blogging because of the wonderful friends I’ve made online and the women who inspire me, encourage me and make me a better mom
5- I’m grateful for my real-life friends, nothing can quite compare to girlfriends, can it? I hope that you are all enjoying this day with your families, and looking forward to dinner at the Indian restaurant in December, the roller-skating party, the Mom’s Xmas party, and exchanging cheer this holiday season.
6- I am grateful to live in a world where everything we want is within reach. Knowledge is free, a diverse field of perspectives and views enable us to see our own more clearly, and humans are ready to share their experiences, interest and knowledge with one-another, for the good of all.
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A word about our Thanksgiving “Dinner.”
The way that cooking has developed in our home over the past few months, we’re taking a very nontraditional approach to Thanksgiving this year.
I slow-roasted the turkey overnight (yep, it was completely frozen when I stuck it in the oven at 5 p.m. and I just took it out at 5 a.m. When the kids get up we’ll have banana pancakes and as they’re ready they’ll pop into the kitchen to make their side-dish with me. I haven’t done Thanksgiving in such a small kitchen before, so we plan to just cook and eat all day, without a specific meal time, probably. It’s not like we all fit at the table anyway.
We generally go see a movie on Thanksgiving but we’ve decided to save up money to attend the Unschooler’s Adventure cruise to Jamaica, Haiti and Cozumel in April.
It’s a very lofty goal, but our travel come-documentary that we’ve been working on for the past 6 years is coming into fruition as we speak. We have assembled an awesome team of producers who are passionate about the product and have worked their butts off making it something better than even we imagined. (and we’re quite imaginative)
I wish I could announce more about that, give me a week or so and you’ll hear all about it. Let’s just say that we have quite an adventure planned over the next year.
About that Cruise- Jamaican beaches, The warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, Ancient Mayan Ruins, can I even express how much my heart swells to think that my family could be present in the same space as something so fascinating and ancient.
And also to share a great blog I found from a family who lives in their RV. It’s called Where the Fuhkaui. I love their blog’s tagline:
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely. Broad, wholesome, charitable views can not be acquired by vegetating in one’s little corner of Earth.” – Mark Twain
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.”
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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.
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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.
Watching my kids learn has been the most fascinating aspect of not sending them to school. Partly, I’m sad for the children whose education isn’t self-driven, because the “love of learning” face that toddlers are known for grows more beautiful the older a child gets.
At 4, Grace is very helpful around the house. Recently, she wanted to help me fold laundry. She sat by my side, wadding things up into little blobs while I obsessively created perfect folded squares. She looked at her pile and said “Mommy, show me how you fold.” So I did, we started with long sleeve shirts and she mastered it after 2-3 of them. Madelyn (6) came in and Grace was beaming at her new “pile” of perfectly folded shirts.
At 6, Madelyn is enjoying writing notes. Of course it’s faster to speak out loud but she is enjoying writing notes. She’s been playing Farmville and Yoville and some other silly FaceBook games and she has friends who write her notes while she plays. She loves chatting online with her friends and has decided that she’d rather communicate with everyone in writing. I must have spelled “I love you” out loud for her a thousand times last week. She doesn’t want me to write it for her to copy, she just wants me to say the names of the letters, including spaces and punctuation, for her to transcribe. She runs into the room several times a day to ask “Mom, how do you spell “get your stinky feed off of my pillow or you can’t be on my bed anymore” or maybe “Please please please get out of the bathroom I need to pee.” If I don’t say “space” or comma” when it’s time, she gives me an odd look. If a word doesn’t look right to her, she says “Are you sure this is spelled right?” At the end of each note, she EXPECTS a period, a question mark or an exclamation mark.When I don’t tell her to write one, she asks “Is this a complete sentence?
The kids have set up a system of mailboxes at everyone’s door and spend all day long passing notes throughout the house. So they’re learning to write and read and use punctuation and capitalization through love, through the desire to communicate. At this point, I can’t even imagine another way anymore. Imagine being assigned “Write “I love you” fifty times today. Wouldn’t that be ridiculous? It’s become increasingly ridiculous to me that kids are taught reading and writing OUTSIDE of the desire to communicate. THAT is what reading and writing are for. No wonder schools fail, when written communication is irrelevant.
At 12, Meagan spent many years as a victim of our aggressive work schedules. There just wasn’t much time or money to do the things she wanted to do. She always wanted to do Soccer but I could never find the sign-up information and Saturday 7am practices and games were NOT something we wanted to participate in. Actually- here, they practice like 3 days a week and play games on Saturdays at the crack of Dawn. So this year she decided she wants to take tapdancing. It works for us. We signed her up for a class for her age group and all of the girls in the class have been dancing since they were toddlers. The teacher showed them the dance really quickly. Meagan felt a bit lost, like she was in over her head. She set up the laptop in the kitchen and watched youtube to learn the beginner’s moves. She practiced tapping in the kitchen for hours and hours and hours. She didn’t even consider giving up. At class yesterday, she remembered the entire routine. She practices at home all the time. It’s noisy, but beautiful. She’s taking jazz, too and her smile is just phenomenal when she dances.
Learning is beautiful, when it’s rooted in love. Sometimes it’s my 6 yr old pleased to present us with personalized love notes or surprising us with notes she’s spelled on her own. Sometimes it’s my 4 yr old screaming at anyone who tries to fold a long-sleeve shirt because that’s her responsibility and sometimes it’s my 12 yr old tapdancing in the kitchen at 2am.
I am not a “morning person.” I wake up confused, my eyes are blurry, my voice is gritty and my body moves slowly. I tumble into the kitchen, straight for the coffee pot and stare at it cross-eyed until there’s enough to fill my cup. Sometimes I squat in the kitchen so I don’t have to use any muscles or energy to stand up.
Because of this (and the fact that it’s easier for me to work when they’re asleep) I get up between 5 and 6 a.m. while my kids don’t start waking up until 9 or so.
I have a happier day when I can wake up to peace and take care of my needs for coffee,solitude and silence before tending to the needs of the children. The kids have a happier day when the first words they hear are “Good morning sunshine” rather than “quit stomping on the stairs please.”
Most of my kids wake up chipper and happy, eager to get on with the business of whatever they’re interested in. Sometimes in the night, they find their way into my bed. There’s always someone extra in there when we wake up. This morning it was Grace, she’s 4 years old. She wakes up and rubs her eyes a little, looks around the room and smiles when I say “good morning.” Then she turns and snuggles in, saying “good morning” to the baby, kissing each one of her little toes. Within minutes, they’re giggling, kissing and hugging and asking for pancakes.
When the pancakes are ready, they come to the table, holding hands and Grace insists that their plates be identical this morning. Matching plates are rare in our house
Madelyn (6) comes down the stairs, we can hear her stomping. She’s a skinny little girl but sometimes I think she’s trying to press her foot through the stairs. Her first words to her sisters are “good morning” and she gives them each a kiss before sitting at the table for pancakes.
The other kids are asleep, it’s just me and the younger half most mornings. I don’t usually eat breakfast, I usually zip over to my computer to finish up whatever it is that I was working on when they woke up. As they finish their breakfast, they’re planning their first adventure for the day. “Grace, wanna go pick flowers with me?” or “Maddy I’m going to take a bath.” Every day it’s something new.
Some days I have surprises planned. Whether it’s an art project or a “field trip” (is there a non-school-y term for this… going somewhere just to learn more?) they’re usually excited about the plans I make. Since we both work from home, everyone doesn’t HAVE to go with us.
So what do your mornings look like? I was listening to a call-in radio show where the caller said something about how he can’t work from home because his kids go to school, the house is too loud in the morning. The host said “I know what you mean man, mornings are the worst.” Which was followed by an article I stumbled across that was trying to teach parents how to help their kids wake up in the morning for school.
I found the advice a bit sad, “Don’t let them press snooze” was probably the most painful. I remember how much I hated waking up for school as a kid, especially in high school. I’ve often thought that the “answer” to some of the problems schools have would be to operate a set of classes between noon and 6pm instead of forcing everyone to comply with the 8am-2pm thing. What’s wrong with waking up and getting a good start to the day. With school kids and their parents so over-scheduled, a 12noon start-time might help everyone start their day with a hearty breakfast and a peaceful home instead of the yelling, stress and rushing around that I hear so much about. Sure, some people function better in the morning, I’m not one of them, though.
This gets me steamed- and I see a lot of “gentle” parents doing it. It sounds like this;
“Oh sweetie, it makes mommy so sad when you _________”
or
“Come on, give grandma a kiss, you’re hurting her feelings”
or
“Please ______ honey, it would make me so happy”
Here’s a newsflash- Your kids are not responsible for your emotions, OK. Now, if I only had the nerve to say this to xxxxxxx. (and here’s the part where I begin to address xxxxxx as if this were a note to her all along…)
Your 2 yr old is confused enough, he doesn’t need the added confusion of your emotional instability.
Instead of telling the kid that he’s making YOU sad (because his world really does not revolve around you) why don’t you find out what he’s upset about. Perhaps he didn’t want to come inside. Perhaps all he wanted was to play outside a little longer. Now that you’ve wrangled him inside so that he can tend to your emotional needs, what should he do with himself? Do you need a footrub, too?
It might be easier (and less insane) to wrangle him into the house by preparing a snack, bubble bath, or inside activity, instead of simply saying “it’s time to come inside” because “coming inside” doesn’t sound like much fun but “coming inside to roll bouncy balls down the stairs” does sound like fun.
I can’t imagine anything more stressful than the idea that my caregiver’s sanity or mental state of mind was dependent upon my actions. That is a recipe for one neurotic kid.
I secretly hope that you do read this. I’ll admit it’s you and we can talk, OK. Your kid doesn’t need to be concerned with having your emotions tied to his actions.
I hope that if you ever hear yourself saying “you’re making mommy sad” your face begins to twitch and you realize all of the psychological implications that thinking may spawn and begin to say it less and less, focusing on the REAL SITUATION, which is not your emotions, but the fact that there’s a rattlesnake on the porch or it’s hailing golf balls, which are two very good to come inside right now. otherwise, you’re better off helping him transition (described above- the bouncy ball thing)
Remember- your child is not the source of your emotions, you DECIDE how you feel. Please don’t forget that.
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)
In my quest to live at a child’s pace, and just let my kids “be” I’ve been making a point each day to accompany my 21 month old on a walk to the garden each afternoon. She gets “itchy” to go outside with the older girls, but she’s too small to play in their games, so we walk to the garden.
Our house is on 4 acres and the vegetable garden is less than 100 yards from the door. I didn’t plant much this year; two kinds of tomatoes, six kinds of peppers, 2 kinds of eggplant, pickling cucumbers, zucchini, yellow squash, strawberries, a few herbs and pumpkins. The pumpkins are her favorite.
“Pukkin mommy, pukkin now mommy” That’s the signal that it’s time to head outside. “Do you want to go see the pumpkin in the garden now?” “Yeah pukkin garnin mommy pukkin now, OKAY mommy” She can be a bit impatient when I’m putting on my shoes, it takes all of thirty seconds to slip on my flip flops but in that time, she’s said “NOW” about three times. Persistence is a good thing, right? “Let’s go” I say, and she runs for the door.
We’re finally out the door and I’m headed for the “garnin.” “Uh-oh” she says. She kicked a rock off of the porch and absolutely must put it back into place before we proceed. Finally, she finds the rock and puts it back “yets go” she says “see pukkin garnin okay mommy” and we’re off.
The grass is tall, she steps in a hole and trips a little. I stop, waiting to see if she’ll cry or need me, she stands and continues walking as if nothing happened, until she sees me stopped “Mommy yets go see pukkin garnin” as if I’m holding her back somehow. “I’m coming,” I say “Want me to carry you?” “No mommy no carry you. See pukin garnin Okay.” She’s not put off, or upset about falling, and she continues.
For about 4 feet. She notices a broken branch on a peach tree. “Uh oh mommy, broken, uh oh figgits (fix it)” I tell her “I can’t fix it honey, it’s a tree. it’s broken. It’s OK, let’s go see the pumpkin.” And we’re off. yet again.
For about 3 feet. A butterfly is in the grass. Clearly having flown over for the sole purpose of making her laugh. She covers her mouth as she’s laughing, and holds her side. I wonder, did that little giggle give her a side cramp or is she copying the gestures we were making last night as we skimmed through a website of riotously hilarious photos as a family last night ( funnybabypictures.net- I dare you not to laugh) Anyway, she tells me “buhfie mommy, see buhfie? buh fie get me (laughs)” “Did that butterfly get you? that silly butterfly.” Her focus on getting to the pumpkin isn’t blinding her to beauty along the way- wow. I should walk slowly more often.
But I’m still me, y’know. Eyes on the prize…” Look, Evie- I see the pumpkin” We’re not even halfway there yet but it’s taken five minutes to walk fifteen feet and obviously my mind is wandering. So she runs toward the pumpkin, giggling.
For about 5 feet. Then she stops. “walking now mommy okay” and she reaches up to hold my hand. For about 2 feet. Running was just too exhausting.
About ten minutes and twenty distractions later, we finally reach the great pumpkin. A predictable conversation ensues, whereby we discuss that it is round, orange, big, bigger, growing, on the ground, dirty and still orange, still round.
This, in case you wondered, fulfills some of our state’s requirements for kindergarten math, by the way.
Then, we have to check out everything else. While she’s reciting her daily pumpkin speech, I munch the yellow pear tomatoes. Yes, they’re yellow, some are green and they’re not round. She tastes a tomato, just like she does every day and spits it out, to tell me that it’s “yucky.” I could have told her that she wouldn’t like it, because every day she tastes one and decides anew that it’s yucky. That’s OK, she’s reseeding. It reminds me of my sister being forced to taste just one pea at the dinner table as a child. Why does this baby CHOOSE to continue tasting something she doesn’t like and at any point in her life, will she end up liking it eventually? I don’t know, I’m just enjoying the show.
She notices that some of the peppers are red. “Wed mommy wed, wed pukkin” I break the news “That’s not a pumpkin honey, it’s a pepper.” So I pick the pepper and hand it to her, along with 5 or 6 other peppers. Gypsy peppers, fajita peppers, jalapenos and Big Jim peppers. She can’t carry them all in her arms, luckily there’s a little basket in the grass, leftover from the older girls’ play, so I put the peppers in the basket and she’s jumping up and down, wanting to show Daddy the peppers. So, we’re off…
At least seven times between the garden and the house, she dropped the peppers. Each time, she cheerfully said “uh oh” and bent down to pick them up. I offered to carry them for her, but she wanted to carry them herself. The basket was kind of small and the shape of the peppers was such that if you didn’t put the long Big Jim peppers upright, there would be no room for the round peppers. Lying down, the Big Jim peppers filled the whole basket. She tolerated me helping her rearrange them in the basket as we picked them up.
A couple times, she attempted to “count” them, to make sure they were all there “one two one two one two fee six one two SEVEN” In edu-speak, she’s expressing a preliminary understanding of one-to-one correspondence, indicating that she understands that numbers can be used to represent physical things, for record-keeping purposes and for tracking quantity.
Then, she steps on a thorn. This time, when I offer her a piggy back ride, she consents. We’re six feet from the door, but I know that can mean at least two or three more instances of dropping a pepper and bending down to fix it all. When we reach the door, I ask her if she wants to get down and walk the rest of the way to the kitchen. She drops her peppers twice on the way to the kitchen and screams at the top of her lungs when one of her sisters tries to pick them up for her. She can’t figure out how to arrange them in the basket, so one-by-one, she runs them back and forth to the kitchen counter. When the last pepper is in place, she looks for me “Awwdone mommy, peppers done” and I cheer for her.
She’s exhausted, she snuggles in to nurse and crashes for at least an hour.
I stare at her in her sleep, trying to find that place inside me where I am just as persistent, non judging, patient and focused. Then, I give up, simply grateful that I got to share that moment with her, and hoping I remember the lessons when I need to.
Today it doesn’t matter that the floors are crooked (wavy, actually) or that the bathroom is…. horrid- completely horrid, if we were owners not renters, I’d dynamite the bathroom and press a port-a-potty against the door. and it doesn’t even matter that while we were gone, my dog shed a 2 inch layer of hair onto my living room floor. We’re finally home:)
We drove 25 hours in one day (OK, 25 consecutive hours because technically that’s longer than a day) before we arrived in Park City, just north of Wichita, Kansas. We stayed at a Best Western (free wireless, free hot breakfast buffet and an indoor courtyard with a pool, foosball, pool tables, miniature golf and other stuff). The following day, we drove the remaining 6 hours into Dallas.
In Oklahoma we stopped at a roadside “scenic outlook” that showcased the geologic formations, which was interesting. More interesting, though was that on the BACK of the interpretive sign, several people had signed it and left messages. Some were funny, some were obscene and others were just a “hey I was here.” it reminded me of Facebook, especially when my 8 yr old asked if she could “sign the wall.” I stammered- writing on things in public is bad. I relented. This was the back of the sign, everyone else had done it, it won’t turn her into a vandal and I wonder, what does she have to say to the world? While the girls signed, I walked a little way down the hill to the edge of the overlook. on the railing, someone had adhered a custom-made die-cut sticker that said “I’m Already There” If you’re familiar with the country music song by Lonestar, then you know what this means. if not, Check it out on Youtube. I couldn’t believe someone went to all that trouble to leave their message, and what a perfect spot.
Once we arrived in Dallas and got checked into the hotel, my biggest fear was negated (people really did member me) and the older kids disappeared. I saw glimpses of them off and on throughout the week, but they were having so much fun with their friends and the many many many activities that the Rethinking Education Conference had planned.
I had a whole busy schedule of workshops and classes I wanted to attend. Instead, I spent much of my time with my children, I can’t complain about that, it was the most fun we have EVER had together. We went swimming each day, we rode up & down the elevators just because we could, we jumped on the beds, we snuggled until noon, we watched the Disney Channel and I didn’t work for even half a minute. I had the pleasure of sharing a few glasses of wine with like-minded moms at the mom’s night out (twice that week) and failed to convince my husband to go to the Dad’s night out. I got to visit with special friends, women who I know mostly online. our kids played together. Several times, I was told that my kids are amazing. I didn’t get to see them much, but I know they were random-huggers, making sure that everyone at the conference felt the love. They enjoyed making duct-tape things- a cell phone cover, a purse, a wallet. They performed in the talent show, they went to a few workshops and got very little sleep. Brandon and I made it to a few workshops. Between the audio book we listened to on the drive and the workshops we attended, we had plenty to discuss.
After the conference, we drove 20 hours to visit my sister, then a little over an hour to visit Brandon’s mother, sister and brother as well as their families, my kids were so excited to meet their cousins and it was really nice seeing my sister-in-laws (or is it sisters-in-law?). Even Uncle Ernie came over. We had our first hot meal of the week (hotel- no microwave in the room, no worries)
We crashed on grandma’s couch. Have you ever seen 8 people on a sectional sofa? Technically, a few of the kids snuggled with Grandma. The smoke from the Southern CA fires was still in the air and breathing was hard, I kept coughing.
The next day we drove another hour and a half to visit with friends, our very favorite family friends. I first met the Spargos when I was doing hair at Supercuts in Palmdale. I used to chat with her while her husband got his hair cut. Our daughters were the same age (not yet a year old) This year they’re both turning sixteen.
After dinner with the Spargos, we had dessert with Brandon’s sister and her husband then drove- 18 hours, home. We arrived around 2pm. We logged over 75 hours in the car with 6 kids, not nearly enough sleep, very little nutrition and more than enough love to make up for it all.
Last year I came home confused, my head was spinning from back-to-back workshops with very little time to decompress and reflect upon all the new information. It was like cramming for a test on a subject I’d never heard of before. This year, though, I’m relaxed, focused, more purposeful. I didn’t need all the workshops, I just needed a break. I have some new goals, some new memories and my little Universe has expanded. What more could I ask for?
Silly high-point, opening the swagbag to discover that I had an article published in the Home Educator’s Family Times. I get the email version, I guess I just forgot that there was also a printed version. It’s pretty cool to see my words printed for real. What is it about online publishing that’s so “not real?”
We have moths. This old house doesn’t have all of its window screens and every now & then a moth will fly into the house. In the daytime they hold very still somewhere and hope that I don’t kill them. On this day, Evelyn found the moth camping out on our living room wall. It didn’t feel right killing it in front of her, so I captured it in a glass using an envelope, and set it on the table for her to look at.
She’s 18 months old, and she watched the moth for nearly an hour. Grace was interested in it, too. it was really neat seeing the moth up close. At rest, we could see teeny little hairs on its face and legs, and even see a little powder being sprinkled from its wings as he flapped them. Grace (3) noticed that his wings were attached differently than a butterfly’s wings. After nearly an hour the girls got bored with it, so we released it into the yard. Today, nearly 3 weeks after that incident, grace brought me a picture she drew (today) of the moth. She has a side view and a top view, with sufficient enough details that I’m impressed. Learning IS fun.
So I’m pretty sure that I once wrote a blog post comparing the benefits of home cooked meals vs fast food with the benefits of homeschooling vs public education. I summized that depending upon institutionalized forms of education for children was like eating fast food all the time, crippling the brain as much as fast food cripples the body.
But today I have a totally different observation that COULD be just as much of a deep thought if I had time to think deeply. (truth be told, I think deeply all the time and rarely have the time or memory enough to type it up)
Anyways, I am an uncooker. I don’t use recipes, I’m never sure what we’re having until it looks like it’s almost done. It really hasn’t been much of a problem in our lives, in fact it’s been an asset. I can whip up something delicious with very few ingredients. I can transform a package of top ramen into a curried thai noodle dish. It’s not a bad meal for 15 cents.
Usually.
My husband on the other hand, likes recipes. And he’s been the one making dinner lately. He runs the kitchen like a restaurant (without all the Chef Ramsay stuff) having each child cut something, stir something, wash something, etc.
I pride myself on never using a hundred ingredients.
He sits his ingredients out into pre-measured portions, like on the cooking shows on TV.
I advise all moms to mount a little mirror under the kitchen cabinets, so really little kids can see what you’re doing, there’s my free tip.
He has the kids lined up standing on chairs all along the counter to do their jobs. They even wear little aprons.
His food is always delicious, and each meal takes over an hour to prepare.
My food, even when I dare to add 50 different seasonings, sometimes tastes like hamburger helper but I can serve 8 people in under 20 minutes.
He serves “themed” meals, so that when he asks the kids what they want for dinner, they’re naming countries. “How about Mexican? Chinese? Irish?
When I ask the kids what they want me to make, after I convince them their Dad can’t cook it, they ask me to “start with noodles” or “how about something cheesy” knowing full well that that’s about as precise as my cooking goes.
It’s not that I don’t know how to use a recipe, my Mama taught me well. She’s a recipe user, I could use the back end of a knife for precise flour measurements when I was 4 years old.
But I learned, later in life, that you can just scoop the flour, too. And if the cookie dough is a little runny, just add some more until it feels right.
Either way, it all comes out the same in the end. I guess you could say the same for education. Until then, though, I prefer my husband’s cooking over my own, but I’m glad I won’t starve to death if he can’t feed me. And if I wanted to make a fancy meal, I could. I just choose not to.
You might have thought this blog post would be touting the benefits of a raw food diet. Certainly, I do think it’s probably a fantastic way to eat, and we do eat a lot of whole foods around here, fresh and raw. But we like hot food meals, so maybe technically we’re not un-cooking, we’re just un-recipe-ing, but whatever.
And I try not to teach my kids that certain choices are “wrong.”
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