Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Working for Happiness

Tonight, after the kids were tucked in bed, I went in the kitchen and made homemade zucchini bread while the cats played in the homeschool room. I didn't have to. There's cereal in the pantry I could feed the kids for breakfast, and I could pick up something from the bakery section for the Bible study potluck (or continue showing up empty handed, as has been my modus operandi for the last three months). I didn't have to, and I was tired, and the couch and a book sounded like a great combination.

But I got up.

I grated zucchini. I measured flour and sugar. I whisked and stirred and licked the spatula. The house was quiet and peaceful, and it was one of those moments where I found my soul being fed.


I've been thinking a lot lately about how sometimes when we choose to enrich our lives, it can initially look like we are needlessly complicating them. I'm reading Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and I am pausing to consider some of the choices I make. Kingsolver's book is about her family's journey into the world of slow food, so I've been thinking about food, but I've also been drawing conclusions about how those same principles spill over into other areas of our lives.

For those of you who didn't catch it, I said "cats", as in plural, earlier. This weekend, we expanded our family in the furry, feline department. I know. The first thought is: why would you add to the crazy? But the truth is, it hasn't made things more crazy--as much as we did consider that possibility. Somehow, adding has made things more beautiful.


Our new little cat, Blythe, has made us laugh more than we thought possible (in fact, right now, she's trying to attack the computer and possibly add her own spin to this blog). She's easy entertainment for the kids, who, in turn, are learning gentleness and responsibility. She's even managed to mellow the older pets a little more. What looked, on the surface, like a complication to our already at times chaotic life, has instead been a source of joy.

This post is not about a cat though (or not just about a cat). This post is about us and our pursuit of happiness and beauty.


The last couple of years, our family really backed off in a lot of areas as we tackled some massive family changes. We were, for all intents and purposes, in survival mode (I don't mean that dramatically). And that was okay. Necessary, even. But now, it seems like we're finally coming out on the other side, and we need to be just as purposeful in adding back the things that give life, whether that's homemade bread or good music or outside the home ministry options or little furred friends who need homes.


Even if, at first, we may feel a little tired and just not want to, or others think we are crazy for our choices, or logically it just doesn't make sense... Even if all that is true, wouldn't it be worth finding out?

If there's something that you are wanting to do, something you know will bring you joy, why not put forth a little effort and take the risk? The worst thing that could happen is that you realize that it's not the right choice for you, not right now.


But who knows, we may find those seeming complications leave us with an added measure of peace as we figure out what our little corner of happiness looks like. May we not forget that, like all good things in life, joy does not come without some measure of effort. And the best things in life are worth working for.

Saturday, May 9, 2015

Collective Learning: in Retrospect

This morning while making breakfast, starting laundry, cleaning up breakfast, kissing boo-boos, chasing rogue baseballs, and breaking up fights, I drafted and edited a blog about our homeschooling year. Then it promptly disappeared, never to be seen again.

Sometimes this is what homeschooling feels like.

Dissecting flowers
We get to the end of the morning, and I've gotten check marks on everything that needed check marks even while mass confusion abounded, but did anything really sink in? In all honesty, I think it did. We won't be rewriting the entire book next year. And this is good.

Some of this year I've felt like I was shooting the educational arrow and then drawing the proverbial target around it. To a certain extent this may be true, but when I stop to really think about what my goals were for the Little Man this year and whether or not we've met them, I can say yes without hesitation.

A dear friend and her sister (both of whom are teachers) came and gave a special
botany lesson to Littles. It ranked as one of my favourite homeschooling moments of the year.

This year I was hoping to 1. teach Littles how to read and 2. instill in him a love of learning. Everything else was deemed icing on the cake. It's May now, and our school year is drawing to a close, and Littles is reading, slowly and haltingly, but reading, and while he may not always love school, he does love to learn. I did a little interview with him on the first blog post (that disappeared) and he told you a few lovely things that he learned about whales and dolphins and his garden (science was a favorite for him). He also informed me that Sarah, Plain and Tall was his favorite chapter book this year (though he wasn't sure why), and that he was disappointed he didn't get to learn more about great white sharks.

I think within the next few months he's really going to take off in the reading department, and I'm pretty excited about that. While I've enjoyed reading out loud to him, I know how much I love the solitude of reading, and I'm excited for that for him. Plus then I can stop reading the twenty gazillion science books to him that he brought home from the library. Although, let's be honest, I like those too.

Littles loved it too.


Side note: did you know there's really no such thing as a black panther? There are black leopards, black jaguars, and--supposedly--black cougars, and "black panther" is our generic term for all of those.

And on that line of thought, I'd like to share a few things that I learned this year. Because, let's be honest, what's the fun of homeschooling if we don't all learn a few things together?

  • School does not have to look pretty. Let me explain. When we started last fall, I had a whole peaceful routine to get us into the educational experience that included, prayer, lots of cuddles, and some semblance of order. By the end of the year, Alex had better be able to yell his phonics lesson loud enough for me to hear him as the twins climb on top of me, yelling ecstatically about something. Everything gets done (more or less), it just might get done while the laundry is getting folded, the dishes are getting washed, or one of the other siblings is getting unceremoniously hauled into "the principle's office".
  • For us, for right now, less planning was more sanity. Our first month of school, I'd drawn out simple lesson plans that I felt were completely reasonable. It stressed everyone out. The clincher was when Littles told the Man he needed to "finish school" one night right before bed. After that I took to just writing down what we were doing during the day and ensuring it was relatively well-rounded. Next year, things will be a little more scheduled (we're trying out Classical Conversations), which is necessary since it will be legit kindergarten (laughing about those two words being put together). But this year, less was more.
  • If you teach your boys about how celtic warriors painted their faces blue, put the markers under lock and key. They wouldn't let me take pictures, but FREEDOM!!!
Some items are more twin friendly than others...

  • Tying into that, it is amazing what Tiny picks up just from listening in on what Alex is learning. Kid may still be sleeping in diapers, but he can tell you where the Red Sea is and do simple subtraction. Although that last one may have been a fluke... But I'm still counting it!
  • Everything is a field trip. Got to go to Home Depot? Totally a learning experience--shop class for pre-K! Need to knock out the grocery store? A math lesson on the fly (with a little health class thrown in). Running errands downtown and forgot to do science? Pop on into the Aquarium and give yourself a check mark for the day!
The toys get moved around at random.
Some days it looks better than this. Other days worse.

  • Maps are the best. I wish I had bought maps earlier in the year. We were using a dinky plastic placemat map until last month when the Man and I finally scored some on eBay. Our homeschool room is beautiful now and the kids and I have so much fun looking for different places as well as talking about various topographical features. The Man has had a lot of fun teasing me about my lack of US geographical sense. 
  • It's amazing the amount of school work Littles can do unsupervised. I like to pretend that this is only going to increase as he learns to read. I can clean up after meals, get laundry done, cook dinner, and a multitude of other things while Littles does copy work or art or any number of other little things we qualify as "school".
  • Last thing, I had fun. I really wasn't sure I was going to. I thought homeschooling Littles was just going to be one more thing when I was already feeling overwhelmed and run down, but it was so fun to see how the Little Man's mind worked. It was exciting to be able to share with him my love of books and learning and creativity. It was pretty neat getting to see the Man step in on days I was busy and teach too. Part of me really anticipated dragging my way to Christmas and collapsing exhausted at the end of the first semester, feeling like a failure and saying, "Well! That was a mistake! Let's enroll him in a real school." And instead I find myself still plugging away mid-way through May and planning to continue with this craziness next year--most significantly, with Littles' full support.
Now we can learn music and memorize capital cities at the same time.

At any rate, this year of schooling is almost knocked out. We're taking June and July off to concentrate our efforts elsewhere before we buckle down and try something "similar but different". And while yes, there are still days when I think we must be crazy, more and more I think we're actually onto something here: a way to draw close as a family, raise well-educated and well-rounded kids, and provide a little bit of stability as the Air Force continues trucking us from one end of the country to the other.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Redefine

Parenting has redefined a lot of things for me.

For instance, the phrase "back-biting". Prior to kids, I would have agreed with the dictionary definition which reads something along the lines of "malicious talk about someone who is not present." Now it means any extended period of time with Bruiser on my back in the Ergo. The bite marks are impressive.


Prior to parenting, sharing was a good thing. Now I realize that "sharing" means trading off who gets the Cars toothbrush and who gets the Planes toothbrush. "Sharing" is the reason we have nonstop runny noses in this house.

Before kids, mascara was something I put on my eyelashes. After kids, mascara was something for Bee to apply liberally in the general vicinity of her eyelashes, and then after that to rub with expression all over her clothes, hair and face.


Before kids, shop lifting was something juvenile delinquents did. After kids, I realize that shoe fetishes start at an early age and it's very easy to hide things in the back seat of the double stroller.

Before: child labor was deplorable! After: you don't take a nap, you better believe you're helping clean the kitchen and fold the laundry.


Before: a lunch break was time to actually take a break. After: lunch is something squished into the "break" that is supposed to be nap time, during which I'm also trying to throw dinner in the crock pot, recover the floor from the avalanche of lunch-crumbs, and quickly knock out any necessary phone calls so that maybe (just maybe) I can find ten minutes to do something that makes me feel halfway human, like reading something above a 3rd grade level or writing words not included in that day's phonics lesson.


Before: I thought legos were little block thingies you put together to build houses and cars and other vehicles. After: I know that legos are limitless in their imaginative scope and especially in their ability to show me how I'm failing as a feminist. The following conversation occurred Monday morning:

Lego Dad: How about this, boys? Mom goes into the kitchen and makes cookies while we watch the Braves play baseball?
Real Mom (that's me): How come Lego Dad can't make his own cookies? [insert for all blog readers: because you better believe Real Dad is fully capable of doing so--and he doesn't burn the cookies like Real Mom does]
Littles, exasperated: Because he's watching baseball!


Before: jeans were for your legs. After: dirty jeans from the laundry pile double as a scarf.

Before: not having trash service for an unspecified amount of time would've been an inconvenience. After: not having trash service is certainly smelly (diapers are fun!) but mostly sad for my three trash-truck obsessed little boys.

Before...well...there are a lot of words that have been redefined. I suppose having kids makes that happen, both on a serious front as well as an entertaining one. It's like discovering a whole new language! One that is confusing, full of laughter, and occasionally a little disturbing.

Friday, May 1, 2015

Streamlining, Assembly Lines, and Reality

I had such a great time seeing pictures of everyone's cute kids in their Easter finery.  I enjoyed them extra much because I so did not pull off Easter pictures this year. But, let me paint you a word picture.

First there was Littles. Sure, his shirt was still on the big side and his shoes are threatening to walk themselves to the trash can, but on the whole, he looked presentable. No noticeable stains or tears. But in a show of solidarity with Tiny and an effort to avoid Bruiser's hair pulling, he buzzed off all his beautiful brown hair on the Saturday before so he pretty much looked like a stranger to me. Thankfully, he left his eyelashes. This time.


Then there was Tiny, who was impeccably turned out until his lip got split by a wooden block that some nameless brother decided to chuck at his face. The split lip got blood all over his white sleeves, but changing him into a clean shirt before church? Ain't nobody got time for that.

The twins both had snot all over their faces (and then got snot all over me). Bee got orange juice on her sweater before lunch, and Bruiser's new pants were a little on the long side, but it was so nice to not have a direct line of sight on both of his knee caps that no one minded. 


We may be a little on the rag tag side of things these days, but things are settling now, more and more. I'm starting to think in terms of streamlining, and that's helped a lot. Sure, sometimes that means thinking of my children as parts in an assembly line, but if it gets everyone dressed and out the door with a minimum of tears, yelling, and lost tempers, I call that winning.

I'm making To Do lists and then organizing those To Do lists by priority and cutting myself slack where it just isn't going to happen. I'm working to decrease wasted time so that the work we do is more efficient. And I finally got maps hung in the homeschool room, so evidently I'm rocking that too.


The Man has taken to running our budget from his phone, and we are sticking to it with glorious rigidity. Bills that can be paid on schedule are being scheduled as such. Daily and weekly schedules are being compared and meshed appropriately. Streamlining. It's a beautiful thing.

I'm starting to mull over terms like minimalism, as well. As in: if I get rid of more stuff, there's less stuff to put away. Fewer toys = less pickup = fewer fights. Hmm. Also, fewer clothes = fewer choices = nudist colony. Just kidding. But I am kind of obsessed with the idea of a capsule wardrobe right now. Unfortunately, the fact that my post baby body is still shifting makes things a little problematic at times.


Oh, we also moved the twins back into the nursery together. Which means that the Man has his office back! He's celebrating by going through all our files and culling the herd under the watchful eye of the creepy squirrel. (I feel like I just mixed metaphors there, but I really didn't. And I'm sitting in the study with him as I write this, and even though I tried really hard to sit outside of said squirrel's line of sight--he's still watching me.)

Is there a point to this blog post? Yes. Streamlining. Minimalism. And getting my ducks in a row. It's spring and I feel the urge to get my purge on. Wow. That sounded way worse when I typed it out than it did in my head. But what I'm trying to say is: that closet underneath the stairs that we shoved random boxes in when we moved because we were both too strung out on sleep deprivation and twins? I think there may actually be hope for it. And quite possibly for all the other things in our lives that have been left at loose ends.


{No pictures of the big boys today, but you get pictures of the twins from last Sunday. That bow stayed in Bee's hair for all of the 30 seconds it took me to take that picture. And you can see how well  my attempt to get a picture of them together went over. The two bottom pictures are actually from Easter because I may forget to take pictures of my kids, but you know I'm not going to miss the chance to take a picture of my table and our homemade, watercolor bunting--thanks, Littles.}

Thursday, April 23, 2015

The Best Board Books in the History of Ever

When I was a freshman in college (or a sophomore...they all run together) and I set up my first radio station on Pandora, I stocked it with all my favorite bands and titled it, with gusto, The Best Music in the History of Ever. A few months later when I logged onto my Pandora account I found a message from a stranger saying, "Best Music in the History of Ever? Yeah right!" and pointing out several well known, well loved musicians that I had missed and belittling some of the choices I had included. Let's be honest: ACDC was on there. Don't judge. I was 18.


Anyway, point being that whenever I go to make book lists, that experience is in the back of my mind. So here you go:

The Best Board Books in the History of Ever

...except for the silly ones that I like that you don't...

...and except for the great ones that I totally forgot because I'm blonde and have a ton of kids sucking my brain juice away...


But for real: THE BEST BOARD BOOKS IN THE HISTORY OF EVER. (Author is not responsible for any negative side effects brought on by exposure to excess amounts of hyperbole.)

  • Anything by Sandra Boynton. I love Sandra Boynton so much that I bought her books before I even had kids. Seriously. I'm wracking my brains right now to remember if there are any of her books I've read that I hated.. and I'm coming up empty. The best part of reading Boynton is that not only is it entertaining for the kids, but it doesn't leave you wanting to rip your hair out after you've read each book 87,364 times--which is life with kids. If that's not enough of a recommendation, let me put it this way: when I was packing the twins' books for our month long move to CA, half of my selection was Boynton.
  • Goodnight, Gorilla by Peggy Rathmann. I have no logical explanation for why this book has been so beloved by my children, but the wear and tear is significant. I blame the Man for improvising the line "THERE'S A GORILLA IN MY BED" which really helped flesh out the text which consists solely of "Goodnight!"
  • Eric Carle's collection. I have a dear friend who maintains that if you've read one Eric Carle book, you've read them all. Which is kind of true... BUT they are classics for a reason. The reason being that the colors are bright, the story line is simple, and everybody loves the Very Hungry Caterpillar. (True confession: this week I've been doing themed story time with the twins: one night was Sandra Boynton, one night was Eric Carle, one night was Beatrix Potter... It was fun.)
  • Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney (author) and Anita Jeram (illustrator). I know. Some people think this book is overdone, but I will never get tired of Littles telling me that he loves me to the Golden Gate bridge and back and Tiny saying he loves me "all the way out of the universary".
  • On the Night You Were Born by Nancy Tillman. The pictures are so beautiful, and I will be honest and cheesy here and say that I read these words like a blessing over my children. Even if my mom doesn't like that the child is referred to as "my friend" and is rigid about changing it when she's the one reading. Picky, I tell you...

  • The Pokey Little Puppy by Janet Sebring Lowrey (author) and Gustaf Tenggren (illustrator). Because it will make you want to cuddle your furry friends, eat dessert, and maybe (just maybe) dig under a fence and go out on an adventure into the wild, wild world.
  • The Monster at the End of this Book (and its sequel, Another Monster at the End of this Book) by Jon Stone (author) and Michael Smollin (illustrator). Honestly, I don't read these to the twins yet because I don't think they would quite get them, but the boys thought they were hil.ar.i.ous. And I like working on my Grover impersonation.
  • Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel by Virginia Lee Burton. I'm not going to lie: Mike Mulligan is not my favorite, but oh, do my boys love him. That includes Bruiser who thought the steam shovel was a trash truck.
  • Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown (author) and Clement Hurd (illustrator). Another that is not my favorite--I'm sorry, but the artwork really is awful: those two kittens look like rabid squirrels--but it's a classic for a reason (I feel like I've said this phrase before...). The words are slow and soothing, and the quiet repetition is a boon at bedtime.
  • Sheep in a Jeep by Nancy E. Shaw (author) and Margot Apple (illustrator). This is another one I brought along on the trip to CA. I haven't fallen in love with the rest of the series quite as much, but the original sheep in a jeep is great.
  • Anything tactile. Bee's favorite (for several weeks) was Usborne's Touchy-Feely Penguins by Victoria Ball. The words weren't great, but the fuzzy penguins were happiness in a book. There are twenty gazillion of these kinds of books. Find one or two you don't mind your child becoming obsessed with and go from there.
I'm sure I'm forgetting more than a few, but if I don't quit now, you'll all have been bored to sleep (Goodnight Moon can do that to you). One quick honorable mention for the military kids out there, Over There and Coming Home by Dorinda Silver Williams (author) and Brenda Gilliam (illustrator) are fantastic board book choices for young kids dealing with deployment. While the Man was gone this last time, the boys read them almost every single night until Littles could recite them word for word. 


At any rate, I didn't think it was fair to write about reading to your babies without at least pointing you in the direction of some books that won't make you feel like bashing your head into the wall repeatedly (other than possibly Mike Mulligan but that's only after intense repetition).

One final word...I am a huge proponent of making use of your library system. In fact, the kids and I are heading that direction any moment now. But when it comes to board books, skip the borrowing and buy. The point of board books is that they can be chewed on, drooled on, carried around everywhere, slept with...you get the point. Library books...well...you just never know how many other grubby kids have done that before your kids got to them. Just saying. I'm not germaphobic, but everyone will enjoy their board books more thoroughly if they're not also enjoying the passing on of viral illnesses. Clorox wipes only go so far.

Okay, wait, one more final word: you will be seduced by all those beautiful lift-the-flap board books. Your children will love them. You will find them so cunning and fun. But they are another case of defeating the purpose. Those little flaps...they are so fun to rip. They are so impossible to reattach. The story line is inevitably so impossible to understand once said flaps are irrevocably destroyed.

So, anyone want to add any to our obviously completely exhaustive list of board books? ::there are no board books worth reading unless they have been mentioned in this specific blog post::

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

The Seven Best Ways to Read Your Baby's Brains Out

Today, let's talk about reading to one year olds. Or babies. Or two year olds with short attention spans. You know, anywhere in that age group. But before we begin, let me tell you why you should trust my advice in this area. Quite simply this: last night I used the handles of the mop and the broom as chopsticks to recover the laundry that had fallen behind the washer and dryer. Not only that, but: today I extricated a lego from Tiny's nose.


So obviously, I now qualify as an expert on pretty much everything. Including, ahem, reading to extra small children. I say "extra" because not only have I read to extra-small children, but I have also read to extra... small children. Before there were my own four, I worked as a librarian at a pre-school, and before that I worked at a day-care-like thingamajig with one year olds. Don't ask me to explain the "thingamajig" part. It's top secret.


Here we go. The Seven Best Ways to Read Your Baby's Brains Out:

  • Board books are your friends. Until your kid is past the ripping stage, don't waste your time with paper. You'll be more concerned about saving the printed page from your little savage than savoring the experience of snuggling with your little bub.

  • On that note, keep it short and sweet. This is not the time to bring out Dickens. Once your kid is mobile, they can easily escape from your well-intentioned attempts to intellectualize them. Board books are great because by necessity they are pretty short (although I do have a set of Beatrix Potter board books that were a bit on the longer side). Hold off on the lengthier books until the idea of your child sitting still doesn't make you snort with hilarity. And even then, make the change gradually.

  • Busy hands are happy hands. And idle hands are the devil's workshop (or something like that). Kids move. They're just made that way. Work with it, not against it. My current way of dealing with this is to bring at least three books for the twins' bedtime reading. That way they have one for each hand and I have one to read to them. Then we trade. Works like a charm. Which brings me to my next point:

  • One-on-one time makes everything more special. See, in case you didn't catch that above: I read to the twins' separately. Both babies (are they still babies when they're running around getting into everything?) get their own solo reading time. It's their time with me that they don't have to share with anyone else. Sure, I read to them at other times during the day when they're together and the big boys are around, but every night they get time with just me and some books. What could be more fun? Honestly, I don't know, because I dream of time with just me and some books...

  • Books work well with physical touch. Bruiser likes to sit on my lap when we read. Bee likes to sit next to me with my arm around her. When I read to the big boys now, they're still cuddled up against me or draped over my lap. There's something about the written word that encourages snuggling. And I think it's a good thing that, in our family, books evoke a feeling of closeness. All kids love to cuddle. Combining cuddling with reading is a winning combination.

  • If all else fails, strap 'em down. I used to read to Littles while I fed him dinner. He was stuck in his high chair and couldn't escape. Similarly, when Tiny was a baby, I'd put him and Littles in the stroller, we'd walk the dog and then sit on a bench and read before we went home. They were comfy in the stroller, and I was comfortable on the bench, and everyone's brains were expanding. In fact, I remember, years ago, strapping six adorable one year olds (who weren't mine) into a massive bus of a stroller, taking them to the campus library, and reading to them with the book propped high so they could all see the pictures.

  • And of course, remember, please, that there's no pressure. Books are awesome. Your kids are smart. They will figure this out, sooner or later, and no amount of you freaking out about how you kid hates story time will make that happen any faster. If your kid walks off in the middle of a book, stop reading. When they meander back, pick up where you left off. Soon enough, they will be more interested in whatever you're reading than in that piece of lint that was formerly so distracting. It just might take a little while. Reading is an acquired taste. Keep at it. And cut yourself and your kid some slack.
And there you go. Go forth and read unto your tiny offspring!

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Watch and Pray

"Prayer was never meant to be magic," Mother said.
"Then why bother with it?" Suzy scowled.
"Because it's an act of love," Mother said.
A Ring of Endless Light, Madeleine L'Engle

When I was home during high school and college breaks, I'd go running with my dad. I'd be running along, trying not to pass out or potentially die, and he'd be prancing along beside me like a magical, middle aged unicorn making me look bad.

Sorry I compared you to a unicorn, Dad.

My dad loves to talk while he runs, and I have always welcomed the distraction. Plus, sometimes I learned really interesting things. I even learned a few things that are applicable now as a parent, including the Model Assist Watch Leave method.


The concept is fairly simple. First, you model what you want to teach. Then you assist the student as they try it for themselves. Then you watch them do it on their own. And finally, convinced that they have learned the material, you are able to leave the subject and move on to something else (or let your little bird spread his wings...it depends on the situation).

Now, when my dad was talking with me about this, he was speaking in terms of discipleship, but something about it has lodged in my brain. I think about it a lot now as a parent.


I model a lot of things for the kids. The Man does too. Sometimes I model things I wish I didn't. This is hard. I'm home with the kids all day, every day, so they see all my ugly on display, and I hate that. Thankfully, this is a chance for them also to see God's grace in my life and for me to model my extra awesome skills in the apology arena.

This last month I dug deep and hit the assist phase with Tiny and potty training. I let Littles do most of the modeling for how to go potty although, unfortunately, I modeled for Littles the phrase, "Can you please let me pee in peace!" and he busted that out a few times along the way. He's handy like that. Anyways, after toilet usage was appropriately modeled, I assisted Tiny by reminding him of when to go and, occasionally, helping hold him on the toilet. I also assisted with a few clean ups, but that's beside the point. Now mostly I'm watching, making sure he's going when he needs to. But more and more, I can leave him alone and trust him to make it to the potty on his own. Model-assist-watch-leave. Easy.


I'm not going to get into all the intricacies of modern parenting here, but I've been thinking that part of the problem with how so many of our kids are turning out is that so many of us parents get stuck in the model and assist phases. We either do everything or we help with everything until we (as parents) are burnt out and exhausted and just give up, finally leaving our kids to do it on their own without bothering to even supervise.

That watch phase is important. When we skip it, our kids, having never done anything on their own, are left floundering, unsure of how to handle these incredible lives they've been given.


I read a Little Critter book to the kids before bed the other night. In the course of the story, Little Critter goes by himself to a store to buy a piece of candy. In our day and age, that wouldn't happen. Similarly, I read a few weeks ago that one of the pre-requistites for first grade used to be the ability to walk 2 to 3 blocks unattended. We don't let our six year olds do that any more either. It's not that we don't trust our kids (although some of us don't), but because we don't trust anyone else.

We don't trust that we can let our children play outside, unattended, because we don't know our neighbors and they may be creepers at worst or just not willing to keep an eye out at best. We don't trust that we can let our children play unsupervised with other kids because we don't know their parents and we don't know how they've been raised. We don't trust our schools any more or our police force or our hospitals. We don't trust our politicians. Sometimes we don't trust our spouses. And some of us barely trust ourselves.

We have lost our trust, and with it, we have lost that crucial "watch" phase.


I'm not talking about the watch phase that occurs when I teach Littles how to tie his shoe or Tiny to go potty. I'm talking about the watch phase necessary so that Littles and Tiny (and Bruiser and Bee) grow up to become decent human beings. How do I know who they're going to be as adults if I never give them the chance to discover who they are without Mom and Dad holding their hands but while they still have the safety net of home?

I get the concept behind free-range parenting. At the same time, I'm also married to a cop. If you've heard horror stories on the news, I've heard them from the Man when he gets home from work. There are evil people out there, and we know it. So how can we open our hands and let our children risk enough that they can learn and grow and blossom...without being hurt?

I'm not sure I know the answer to that completely. But I know that when we run our lives and the lives of our children based on what we're afraid of, we err greatly. So I think my new game plan is prayer. Seriously, I'm not joking about this.


Sometimes we feel like we pray when there's nothing else we can do. And maybe this is true. But I think about what Madeleine L'Engle wrote in A Ring of Endless Light: prayer is not meant to be magic, but it is an incredible act of love.

When we learn to release our children from our sometimes smothering desire to keep them safe, when we love them enough to face our own fears and open our hands (wisely and in the right time and the right ways), we pray. We still watch from the sidelines for a while, and we pray.


And we hope that God is worth trusting with the most precious gifts He has ever given us.