Morning could be hectic and harried for us- if we had to get everyone washed, dressed, fed, bundled up, out of the house and to school, daycare, work on time. They could be, but they're not, because we don't HAVE to be anywhere but right where we are.
This morning, when I felt obliged to give the baby an impromptu bath to wash the fistfuls of crusting-in mush and browning banana smoosh out of his hair, and the three year old decided to strip naked in the hall and take a running dive into the tub (no one in my house can stand missing out on a bath) I felt just a little put out. This wasn't on the schedule for the morning. But they're so cute, you know, so sweet. How can you stay grumpy with two little ones in the tub? All those bubbles and splashes, soapy clean smells and giggles. When the nine year old decided to join in the fun it just felt perfectly, well... perfect. Two little ones in the tub, warm and shiny, a big one perched in the corner, serenading (guitar practice without threats or shouting, check!) them with his entire play list while they danced and laughed, well, I was just glad to be home, free to enjoy such a lovely unscheduled and unplanned moment.
How many of those moments would be missed if we were caught rushing off to our important days elsewhere? How sad would it be if a baby's 6-grain hairdo were enough to start everyone's day off wrong (too rushed, late for school, late for work)? Those moments, simple and unstaged, are the ones that fill our family memory-bank, easy and quick to pull out on rainy days and hold on to during troublesome times. And so grateful are we, to be present here, filling our bank with memories we share, gathering moments of grace together.
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Outsmarted
This afternoon, in a mad rush of trying to finish up a sewing project that wasn't working well, nursing the baby, tidying up the family room (and the epic mess of post-fort-deconstruction AND an entire box of party crackers and a block of cream cheese-don't ask), presents to wrap, and a shower still to take:
Me Miles, if you touch that drill (toy) one more time before the family room is tidied up I will take it away for the rest of the day.
Miles Okay, I'm sorry. I won't touch it.
Fine. Except that he quietly went upstairs and came back down with ziploc sandwich bags on his hands, and picked up the toy drill and started back to his "work".
Me Miles, I told you not to play with that drill.
Miles No you didn't Mama. You told me not to touch it. I'm not touching it, see? I'm being really careful. I'm really not touching it one bit.
Oh my. He's three. And my head hurts.
Me Miles, if you touch that drill (toy) one more time before the family room is tidied up I will take it away for the rest of the day.
Miles Okay, I'm sorry. I won't touch it.
Fine. Except that he quietly went upstairs and came back down with ziploc sandwich bags on his hands, and picked up the toy drill and started back to his "work".
Me Miles, I told you not to play with that drill.
Miles No you didn't Mama. You told me not to touch it. I'm not touching it, see? I'm being really careful. I'm really not touching it one bit.
Oh my. He's three. And my head hurts.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Neglectful Parent, Happy child
Today, at home:
The three year old gathered nails of various sizes, a hammer, a screwdriver and screws, safety goggles, and asked if he could do some "banging and working, like a factory man" on our friend Andy's amplifier. Uh... NO! (but I'll help you in a moment, find something you can hammer). Not wanting to wait for me to get off the phone he went outside, found some scrap wood, and set up a little work bench in the shady corner of the deck. Bang, bang, bang, and away he goes.
This morning, at the park:
The nine year old really wanted to check out the free kid's art van project being hosted by the local arts' center, but he was worried about going halfway across this little park by himself, being that far away from me. It's nice to have kids that know to stay close, not to just wander off. I can't chase in three directions at once. But he is NINE. And the art tables were in sight of the play structure where the little kids were playing. It was SAFE!
Yesterday, at Fred Meyer:
I let the nine year old take the three year old into the men's restroom at the grocery store, without a supervising adult. I stood guard right outside, with the baby. Men and boys came and went, and my two were still inside, spending a long time carefully washing their hands, taking turns with the air dryer and tearing off paper towels. Things I always rush them through. Things they like to do. I could hear their voices, happy and good. A man and his little son went in, and I heard my little boy's cheerful voice chattering away. My boys came out, the nine year old proud I had let him go, and hadn't made him come to the women's room with me (as is usual), the three year old excited that he'd had "a nice talking" with a grown up Daddy in there. Hmm.
Yesterday, at home:
The nine year old made lunch for everyone (as he does at least a couple times a week). He chose mac and cheese- from the box with the bunny on it- and cut cucumbers, and strawberries. This is a non-event, almost, he is so used to the routine of cooking, so careful about the stove and knives and boiling hot water and steam.
I think it is interesting that the older boy is, while hardly timid by nature, clearly worried about "stranger danger" and safety rules, and has always been so, while the younger one is more worried about the possibility of not being allowed to do everything his much older brother is, and finds rules a detail not worth piffling with. Partly this is personality, partly birth order and spacing, I think, partly my emphasis on making the world safe enough for my first born and the fact that I've spent the second child's life just trying to catch him as he falls from cliffs I didn't even know existed before he figured out how to fall off of them!
I am conflicted. I want to raise adults who are fearless and bold, who will follow their hearts and change the world, who will speak their minds and know themselves to be true. I want them to grow strong and free in the light that surrounds them now, so that they can take their place in the world still bathed in the light of God and Love. But I worry- is my concern that I do everything possible to ensure that they REACH adulthood compromising the quality, not just of their childhoods, but of their adult hoods?
The three year old gathered nails of various sizes, a hammer, a screwdriver and screws, safety goggles, and asked if he could do some "banging and working, like a factory man" on our friend Andy's amplifier. Uh... NO! (but I'll help you in a moment, find something you can hammer). Not wanting to wait for me to get off the phone he went outside, found some scrap wood, and set up a little work bench in the shady corner of the deck. Bang, bang, bang, and away he goes.
This morning, at the park:
The nine year old really wanted to check out the free kid's art van project being hosted by the local arts' center, but he was worried about going halfway across this little park by himself, being that far away from me. It's nice to have kids that know to stay close, not to just wander off. I can't chase in three directions at once. But he is NINE. And the art tables were in sight of the play structure where the little kids were playing. It was SAFE!
Yesterday, at Fred Meyer:
I let the nine year old take the three year old into the men's restroom at the grocery store, without a supervising adult. I stood guard right outside, with the baby. Men and boys came and went, and my two were still inside, spending a long time carefully washing their hands, taking turns with the air dryer and tearing off paper towels. Things I always rush them through. Things they like to do. I could hear their voices, happy and good. A man and his little son went in, and I heard my little boy's cheerful voice chattering away. My boys came out, the nine year old proud I had let him go, and hadn't made him come to the women's room with me (as is usual), the three year old excited that he'd had "a nice talking" with a grown up Daddy in there. Hmm.
Yesterday, at home:
The nine year old made lunch for everyone (as he does at least a couple times a week). He chose mac and cheese- from the box with the bunny on it- and cut cucumbers, and strawberries. This is a non-event, almost, he is so used to the routine of cooking, so careful about the stove and knives and boiling hot water and steam.
I think it is interesting that the older boy is, while hardly timid by nature, clearly worried about "stranger danger" and safety rules, and has always been so, while the younger one is more worried about the possibility of not being allowed to do everything his much older brother is, and finds rules a detail not worth piffling with. Partly this is personality, partly birth order and spacing, I think, partly my emphasis on making the world safe enough for my first born and the fact that I've spent the second child's life just trying to catch him as he falls from cliffs I didn't even know existed before he figured out how to fall off of them!
I am conflicted. I want to raise adults who are fearless and bold, who will follow their hearts and change the world, who will speak their minds and know themselves to be true. I want them to grow strong and free in the light that surrounds them now, so that they can take their place in the world still bathed in the light of God and Love. But I worry- is my concern that I do everything possible to ensure that they REACH adulthood compromising the quality, not just of their childhoods, but of their adult hoods?
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Sleep
Oh my! My friend Lisa Russell just wrote about sleep, and her family's completely joyful lack of a bedtime. I completely admire her seemingly laid back approach to parenting, home schooling, life. She works hard, but keeps a great sense of humor, and is the kind of parent I always wanted to be. But I'm not. That kind of parent. Calm, mellow, quiet, cheerful. And I tried to respond in the comments section, but my comment was turning into an essay, so I decided to be nice and move it over here. Because really, our bedtime is foundational to the happiness and goodness of our family, and I just can't keep it to a handful of words.
When we had just one child he went to sleep whenever he wanted. Which was never. Really. Papa would get home from work when he could, we'd eat supper, read stories, hang out, have a bath, hang out, read more stories, go to bed, talk and talk and talk until eventually we all fell asleep (usually parents first!). Variations of a theme, including working on peace/political campaigns and the only child sleeping under desks, behind signs, and in his play tent in the corner of a campaign office. Somehow or another we ended up with two children (then three) and tried to keep up the same lifestyle, same crazy busy life, same erratic hours, but it just didn't work.
Neither of the boys sleep past 7am unless they're sick, no matter how late they've been up or how tired they are. When Avery was 6 or 7 I got so tired of backtalk I sent him to bed every day for a week at 8 o'clock. And the results were amazing! Suddenly my child had an appetite, his old sweet demeanor, energy to play outside and run around for hours, attention for his schoolwork.* It was really a clear and immediate change. By the end of the week I was convinced that "bedtimers" knew what they were doing, and we happily joined their ranks!
Our family works so much better with a consistent bedtime, because it lends itself to a consistent rhythm to the whole day. Papa knows the boys will be in bed at 8, so he makes a bigger effort to come home for supper by 7. We eat together most of the time, then get ready for bed and he helps them to sleep. It's early enough that he doesn't fall asleep with them too often (or if he does, he wakes up with time still to do computer work or watch a show before he really goes to bed). If he's not home I lead them through the bedtime routine, and they go to sleep on their own. Those nights, when Papa does finally get home, he has a quiet, peaceful house to come home to, to relax in, he can eat supper without being climbed over, we have a chance to talk together without interruption of little people, and we might even watch The Daily Show together! Those weeks when he's working late every day the boys' bedtime is even MORE important to me- it's my only time alone, to think and plan and organize for the next day. The boys don't wake up any earlier with an earlier bedtime, but they are well rested and cheerful in the mornings, ready to jump into the day. If it were only up to me I'd send them to bed at 7, because I think they can use even a little more sleep than what they get now, but I know the possibility of getting Papa home an hour earlier each day is NOT likely, and the children don't get much time with him as it is.
And we do make exceptions. We're not the strictest bedtimers there are. Right now is So You Think You Can Dance season, so we stay up to watch that. We might have a picnic in the park for supper and play late, or have friends over who stay past bedtime, but for the most part bedtime is 8 o'clock, and we can all count on it. I can schedule school time knowing that we'll all be up, ready, and willing to work at 8, which means we can be done with schoolwork by lunch time, we can fit in a morning walk, then play time and activities in the afternoon. I like having a plan for the day, and the kids do too. I also like having the ultimate punishment at my disposal- before we had a "bedtime" I couldn't ever send them to bed early for misbehaviour, and now I can (even if I don't very often). It's nice to have a Hail Mary pass, or Ace in the Hole, or whatever metaphor works best.
Whenever I hear parents talking about not getting enough personal time, getting sick of their kids' bad behaviour, wanting to create a better rhythm for their days, struggling to get everyone going in the mornings, having to wake their kids up, not having time with their spouses, the very first thing I think of is look at BEDTIME**. It's my best advice to struggling parents. Not a particular hour for every family, but a consistent routine and consistent bedtime for each person in each family.
*I know Lisa isn't talking about her kids being sleep deprived, she's letting them more or less choose their own hours, and they get the sleep they need, but I couldn't ever figure out how to keep them from waking early AND staying up late. And her family doesn't need to get up early, where ours does, and her family has to eat awfully late in order to eat together- they're just kind of on a later schedule than a lot of families. They're on restaurant schedule, after all.
**BTW- I am pro-family bed, attachment parenting, all that good stuff. But I have recently realized that attachment parenting doesn't have to mean "attached to Mama 24 hours a day". It can also mean attached to Papa and the big brothers. Attachment Family if you will. Avery puts Miles to bed when Papa isn't home (and they get sweet sleepy bonding time together), Papa puts both big boys to bed when he is home (and gets to share that sleepy end of the day talk and cuddling), instead of me getting everyone to sleep on my own (and then trying to sleep in the mad hot jumble of limbs and dreams and blankets) like before the Bedtime Revolution.
When we had just one child he went to sleep whenever he wanted. Which was never. Really. Papa would get home from work when he could, we'd eat supper, read stories, hang out, have a bath, hang out, read more stories, go to bed, talk and talk and talk until eventually we all fell asleep (usually parents first!). Variations of a theme, including working on peace/political campaigns and the only child sleeping under desks, behind signs, and in his play tent in the corner of a campaign office. Somehow or another we ended up with two children (then three) and tried to keep up the same lifestyle, same crazy busy life, same erratic hours, but it just didn't work.
Neither of the boys sleep past 7am unless they're sick, no matter how late they've been up or how tired they are. When Avery was 6 or 7 I got so tired of backtalk I sent him to bed every day for a week at 8 o'clock. And the results were amazing! Suddenly my child had an appetite, his old sweet demeanor, energy to play outside and run around for hours, attention for his schoolwork.* It was really a clear and immediate change. By the end of the week I was convinced that "bedtimers" knew what they were doing, and we happily joined their ranks!
Our family works so much better with a consistent bedtime, because it lends itself to a consistent rhythm to the whole day. Papa knows the boys will be in bed at 8, so he makes a bigger effort to come home for supper by 7. We eat together most of the time, then get ready for bed and he helps them to sleep. It's early enough that he doesn't fall asleep with them too often (or if he does, he wakes up with time still to do computer work or watch a show before he really goes to bed). If he's not home I lead them through the bedtime routine, and they go to sleep on their own. Those nights, when Papa does finally get home, he has a quiet, peaceful house to come home to, to relax in, he can eat supper without being climbed over, we have a chance to talk together without interruption of little people, and we might even watch The Daily Show together! Those weeks when he's working late every day the boys' bedtime is even MORE important to me- it's my only time alone, to think and plan and organize for the next day. The boys don't wake up any earlier with an earlier bedtime, but they are well rested and cheerful in the mornings, ready to jump into the day. If it were only up to me I'd send them to bed at 7, because I think they can use even a little more sleep than what they get now, but I know the possibility of getting Papa home an hour earlier each day is NOT likely, and the children don't get much time with him as it is.
And we do make exceptions. We're not the strictest bedtimers there are. Right now is So You Think You Can Dance season, so we stay up to watch that. We might have a picnic in the park for supper and play late, or have friends over who stay past bedtime, but for the most part bedtime is 8 o'clock, and we can all count on it. I can schedule school time knowing that we'll all be up, ready, and willing to work at 8, which means we can be done with schoolwork by lunch time, we can fit in a morning walk, then play time and activities in the afternoon. I like having a plan for the day, and the kids do too. I also like having the ultimate punishment at my disposal- before we had a "bedtime" I couldn't ever send them to bed early for misbehaviour, and now I can (even if I don't very often). It's nice to have a Hail Mary pass, or Ace in the Hole, or whatever metaphor works best.
Whenever I hear parents talking about not getting enough personal time, getting sick of their kids' bad behaviour, wanting to create a better rhythm for their days, struggling to get everyone going in the mornings, having to wake their kids up, not having time with their spouses, the very first thing I think of is look at BEDTIME**. It's my best advice to struggling parents. Not a particular hour for every family, but a consistent routine and consistent bedtime for each person in each family.
*I know Lisa isn't talking about her kids being sleep deprived, she's letting them more or less choose their own hours, and they get the sleep they need, but I couldn't ever figure out how to keep them from waking early AND staying up late. And her family doesn't need to get up early, where ours does, and her family has to eat awfully late in order to eat together- they're just kind of on a later schedule than a lot of families. They're on restaurant schedule, after all.
**BTW- I am pro-family bed, attachment parenting, all that good stuff. But I have recently realized that attachment parenting doesn't have to mean "attached to Mama 24 hours a day". It can also mean attached to Papa and the big brothers. Attachment Family if you will. Avery puts Miles to bed when Papa isn't home (and they get sweet sleepy bonding time together), Papa puts both big boys to bed when he is home (and gets to share that sleepy end of the day talk and cuddling), instead of me getting everyone to sleep on my own (and then trying to sleep in the mad hot jumble of limbs and dreams and blankets) like before the Bedtime Revolution.
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