Parenting Intentionally

Recently, my husband and I read this fantastic article (followed by this one) about how to create a positive family culture. It was a fantastic read and it really got us thinking about what we are teaching our kids, and whether it's intentional or not.

So while we were on a long road trip with the kids snoozing in the back of the van, we started discussing what we want our family culture to be like: what we want our priorities to be, what our expectations are, and what kind of people we want us (and our kids) to be. We talked for a long time and filled a page with ideas. We wrote down words like adventure, harmony, traditions, education, dreams and love. We talked about families we looked up to and specific things the did that we wanted to incorporate in our own family. We wrote down our ideas for family activities that could foster the type of culture we'd been talking about building. And then we took a big look at our list and tried to pick out the most important things. Eventually I'm hoping to take those main ideas and turn them into a functional family mission statement. But for now, at least we have a start.

Even though our mission statement is not complete, we've made some changes to our daily life because of the things we talked about. For example, one of the things we talked about wanting to be part of our family culture was physical activity. It's always been important to Forrest and I, and we want to pass our love of sports/fitness/outdoor activity to our kids. I do a lot of playing with the kids at home, wrestling, swimming, riding bikes etc. but Forrest is often at work when we do those kinds of activities. Then he would get home from work at 6, we'd eat dinner, give the kids a bath and then put them in bed. There wasn't much time for "family activities" in the evenings. However, our kids (Charlie and Caroline, to be more specific) lately have been beasts to get to sleep. We lay them down at their normal bedtime (around 7:30) and then sit and wait and tell them to get back in bed a million times until they finally fall asleep around 9 and we are exhausted and frustrated. So after our discussion and list-making exercise, we made an executive decision: after dinner, we have family activity time for an hour or two before bed. Now when Forrest gets home from work we eat dinner and then ride bikes, or go to the park, or go swimming, or go on a walk, or play outside with a ball. And then the kids go to bed at 9, completely exhausted and they fall right to sleep. No fight. No frustrated parents. And we got to spend time together as a family, doing things with our kids that are important to us.

The idea of parenting intentionally has changed the way I look at our day. The way I look at our activities, priorities and pastimes. I've gone from just surviving (which is how I often used to describe life with 3 kids under the age of 3) to doing things on purpose. I feel like a better parent because I'm thinking about what I want to teach my children ahead of time, and then when I find myself in a challenging situation I find I'm better able to react in a positive way. It's important for me to teach my children responsibility. So when they messes (many of you saw Charlie's otter pop mess in the bathroom the other day), I make more of an effort to have them help me clean it up, even when it would be way easier and faster for me to clean it up myself. (In that instance, I locked all 4 of us in the bathroom with a bag of baby wipes and gave each of the kids a wipe and told them to scrub the floors and walls until their wipe was dirty, then I gave them a new one. It took us a while, but the kids cleaned it all up.) I've also started giving my kids more chores. They LOVE helping with the laundry, washing dishes, unloading the dishwasher, etc. but for a while I just did it myself because it was easier and cleaner. Now they are responsible for putting their dishes into the dishwasher after meals (I have to be careful with this one because Charlie sometimes gets confused and throws his dishes away haha), loading and unloading the washer and dryer, putting their clothes away after I fold them, washing dishes, vacuuming and sweeping the floors. That's not to say that I never vacuum, sweep, or do laundry or dishes anymore. Most of the time when they are doing those chores, I'm helping them. But I try to make it clear that it's their responsibility and mommy is just helping.

I know we still have a lot of work to do. I imagine we'll be redefining our ideal family culture pretty regularly over the coming years. But for now, I can see the changes we've made starting to take effect. The kids LOVE family activity time, and every night at dinner they ask what family 'tivity we get to do that night. I've also noticed that now when they make a mess, they are instantly searching for a towel to wipe it up. And I'm taking that as a win!

Have any of you created a family mission statement? If so, I'd love to hear it!

Bad Mom Days

Yesterday was one of those days. I spent way too much time on my phone, I didn't do any dishes or clean up after any meal. I let the TV babysit my children (or at least my one child who will actually sit and watch it.. but still, taking care of 2 kids is infinitely easier than taking care of 3). We all stayed in our pajamas and didn't even brush our teeth. I took a nap while my children were awake and playing near me, despite Charlie's best efforts to get me to play blocks with him. I attempted to make dinner but burned it to a crisp. When Forrest finally walked through the door at 7 PM and asked me how my day was, I felt ashamed. "I was a bad mom today," I told him. He assured me that I wasn't a bad mom and that I was doing the best that I could.

That night after the kids were in bed, I sat there thinking about that. About my bad mom day, and about how I was doing the best that I could. But that started bugging me. Was I really? Because seriously, if what I just described was "doing the best that I can" then my children are doomed. I do think that sometimes I (and maybe moms in general) hold myself to unreal expectations that my kids will be fully dressed and hair done by 9 AM, we will eat healthy and delicious meals 3 times a day (all prepared by me), our house will remain clean and our laundry will always be clean and put away, we watch minimal TV and we spend our day reading books, experiencing new sensory play, and learning our shapes, numbers, colors, and alphabet. Some days that happens, and it is usually my goal. But then there are just those days.

I feel like social media has influenced parenting, and particularly motherhood, immensely. So much sharing of so much good is wonderful, but it definitely plays a role in making mothers feel inadequate. It's not right, but it's only human to compare ourselves to others. When I have a bad mom day, I start comparing myself to Penny down the street who has 8 kids under the age of 5 and has a clean house and children who are dressed with hair done and who seem absolutely perfect. But then there's the other side to social media and it's influence on parenting. There's the side that says that "this is real life" in reference my bad mom day activities. It's the side that is trying to make us all feel better by telling us that it's unrealistic to have a clean house and happy children and healthy meals. And that it's ok to spend all day watching TV and scrolling through Facebook because motherhood is hard, and we all deserve a break. But it's not ok for me.

Me "doing the best that I can" means that I'm at least giving an effort. I know that I won't always live up to my perfect expectations, but I'm not ok with lowering my expectations so that I can meet them every day with minimal effort. My kids deserve better than that.

I know I'll still have bad mom days. And probably a lot more of them than I would like. But the important part is that that's not the norm. "Real life" to me is laughing with my kids, reading them stories and giving them kisses. It's watching them grow and learn and amaze me every single day. Bad mom days are a part of that life, but only a very small part.

Lessons in Parenting

Little M and Uncle Forrest

 

When I was newly married, we lived near one of my older sisters. She was the first of us to have any kids, and at the time that this story takes place she had a two-year-old daughter and a newborn little girl. She would come into town to do some shopping and if I wasn't in class or at track practice, I would tag along and play with the girls while she shopped. On one of these occasions, we were driving from one place to another. My sister was driving, I was in the passenger seat and the girls were, of course, in the back. Sweet little M, the two-year-old, was really upset about something and she was crying and kicking and screaming and crying. My sister asked her several times to relax, to which M finally got so exasperated that she threw her sippy cup in the direction of her mom. My sister immediately pulled the car over to the side of the road, opened her door, and marched around to the other side to talk to her daughter. I looked back at little M who's face was covered in tears. She looked absolutely terrified. I whispered to her "Uh oh, you're really in trouble now!" As my sister opened the door to talk to her tantrum-throwing, sobbing child, I fully expected her to get a swat on the bottom and a good talking to. But what my sister said and did that day is something I will never, ever forget. She climbed into the back seat next to her daughter, put her arms around her and gently said, "Little M, I love you so much. Will you please tell me what is wrong?" I don't remember what exactly it was that was upsetting M. Something small and silly to us, probably, but I do remember that after her mom acknowledged her and tried to resolve what was bothering her, there was far less crying and tantrum throwing for the remainder of the drive.

Now, 6 years later, I find myself in a position similar to my sister's all too often. Whether we are in the car, at home, or visiting some friends, it seems like somebody is always crying or upset about something. Though I'm not always successful, I try to repress my feelings of frustration and show instead my love and concern for my children as I try to help them overcome the challenge (however small and silly it may be) that they are facing.

I am so grateful for my sister and the example that she showed me that day. I hope that one day I can be half the mom that she is!

Outnumbered

I grew up in a family of 7. It was my mom, my dad, and 5 super awesome daughters. My poor dad - he is a very patient man. He handled it pretty well. He does blame us (the girls) for every single gray hair and every last inch of balding on his head, and I think he's probably right in doing that. We didn't exactly give him an easy time. I think I remember one of my sisters getting caught using my mom's razor to shave my dad's head while he was napping in the bathtub. I personally recall drawing pictures all over any part of exposed skin with my mom's lipstick while he napped on the couch (maybe he should have learned not to ever nap while we were around). My mom even has some blackmail pictures of him wearing one of her dresses, some heels, makeup and jewelry. He would occasionally let us paint his toenails and put clips in his hair. He was a good sport. And he was always our biggest supporter. Whatever we were doing - whether it was a sporting event, a play, cheerleading or a spelling bee - he made an effort to be there. In short, my dad is a rockstar.

When I was little, we bought a boat. Most of us called it the banana boat because it was as yellow as a perfectly ripe banana, but my dad officially named it "Outnumbered." It was quite fitting. The guy was surrounded by 6 females constantly. Even when we all started having kids of our own, it was years before a boy finally made an appearance.

I think I'm starting to have some sympathy pains for my dad's experiences. Not being outnumbered in terms of gender, but simply being outnumbered by my children. When it was just me and Charlie and Caroline at home, it was manageable. Crazy, yes, but doable. And then when Forrest was home from work we could move to a man-on-man defense. It worked well for us. Enter Juliet. Now life is a whole different story!

Life is now a whole new level of crazy. Still wonderful, of course. But so crazy. Juliet and I have had to learn to breastfeed "on the go." Meaning that I often have to jump up with her in the middle of a feeding to pry Charlie away from Caroline before he rips a chunk of hair out of her head. Or I have to intervene when Caroline is about to slam the door on Charlie's little fingers. Or when one of them has climbed onto the kitchen counter and is headed straight for something dangerous.

As an added bonus, I now have 3 children in 3 different sizes of diapers. Not at all confusing! My plan is to potty train ASAP, though I don't know how in the world I can give the twins enough attention to successfully potty train while I'm feeding a baby around the clock. Wish me luck with that one!

Even when Forrest is home to help, leaving the house takes us about 5,692 times longer than it used to. And once we do finally get out the door, inevitably someone is hungry, or a diaper needs changed, or I forgot to stock the diaper bag with diapers, wipes, or an extra change of clothes. Or I forgot to brush my teeth. Gross, I know, but when you are so focused on getting 3 little bodies ready to leave, it's easy to forget the basic things like that!

In all honesty though, having Juliet at home has still been 100 times easier than the first couple of months with the twins. Having two newborns was just so demanding! With only one baby to wake up with in the night, I feel so well rested. Seriously. So much easier with one, even though I am woefully outnumbered.

Albino.

I cringe when I hear that word. For the first few months after Charlie was diagnosed with Albinism, I found myself getting frustrated and even angry with people whenever I would hear them refer to him as an albino. I felt like I needed to defend him from others who didn't understand who he really was, and that "albino" had nothing to do with his real identity.

Lately, though, I've been thinking a lot about my son's future. For years Forrest and I have dreamed about travelling around the world and spending years living in different countries. And I always imagined that we would take our children along with us, giving them new experiences that most children wouldn't have. We talked about travelling while the our children were young, and being settled by the time they reached high school. But now my thoughts have shifted toward Charlie, and what would be best for him. 

And I think it will be important for him to not be offended by the term "albino". Because he's going to get called that - not necessarily out of cruelty or meanness, but just because people don't know the proper term. I was one of those people, until my little Char-monster came along. I also think it will be important for Charlie not to be the new kid all his life. I think we will need to be settled long, long before his high school years so that he can grow up with people who know him and who don't think he's strange for having albinism.

I realize I can't protect him from every harm and evil out there. But oh how I wish I could. I realize that he will be teased and stared at, and the thought of it makes me want to cry. But I know he will be so much stronger because of it.

He reminds me of this talk in the April 2014 General Conference, given by Neil L. Andersen:

"In nature, trees that grow up in a windy environment become stronger. As winds whip around a young sapling, forces inside the tree do two things. First, they stimulate the roots to grow faster and spread farther. Second, the forces in the tree start creating cell structures that actually make the trunk and branches thicker and more flexible to the pressure of the wind. These stronger roots and branches protect the tree from winds that are sure to return."

That's my Charlie. I know the winds are going to come. And I know he will grow stronger and be given the tools he needs to withstand the damaging forces around him. I already find myself amazed by Charlie's determination. Where Caroline gets frustrated with something that she can't do and brings it to me to do instead, Charlie spins an object around in his hands and stares at it closely until he figures it out for himself. I have learned so much from him already, and I think he will continue to teach me things throughout my lifetime. I'm so blessed to be a parent to such a wonderful and special spirit.