parenting

The weight of responsibility

/ Shane / 2 Comments

Yesterday, Sara and the kids arrived from their long walk home from school.

“Ollie, where’s your backpack?” asked Sara.
Ollie looked around confused. “I don’t know.”
“You were wearing it when we were at school, but you’re not wearing it now.”

Ollie was just as puzzled as anybody. He’d had it, and now it was gone. Poof. Quite frankly, that’s not the sort of thing he usually has to worry about.

Now, to Ollie’s credit, he felt pretty terrible about the whole thing (and the backpack was recovered this morning…he’d taken it off by Evie’s class). But wouldn’t it be great to be a kid again? Where you could just blithely walk about 30 minutes home and never for a second wonder, “Where’s my backpack?” or “Am I carrying everything I’m supposed to have?” or “What am I going to make for dinner? How are we going to get the kids to their activities on Saturday? Are we saving enough for retirement? What about college? Are my kids safe at school? Are any of us safe? Is the world going to hell? Does that guy look like he could possibly be infected with zombie flu?

There is a weight to responsibility. Even when you’re not thinking about it, it’s there. The weight of kids, and money, and your job, and your relationship with your spouse, home ownership, friends…I could go on. As an adult, it’s such a common feeling, that you almost can’t notice it until it’s gone.

For example, lets say I’m at home, but an aunt or uncle or grandparent or whoever is playing with the kids. I’m not actively taking charge of the kids, but the weight of responsibility is still with me. I’m still thinking, “Are they hungry? Should I make a snack? When’s the last time they went to the bathroom? Is the laundry clean? Do I need to get milk from the grocery store? Does Ollie need a new winter coat? Are the kids getting enough protein? Does that guy look like he could possibly be infected with zombie flu?

I’m not even aware of all these thoughts, buzzing around in my head like gnats. But when the kids are gone for the weekend? Hallelujah, the weight is lifted! Suddenly I don’t have to worry about making sure they eat, or get somewhere on time, or have clean clothes, or a million other things. It’s like a muscle relaxes that you didn’t even know was tensed.

It’s easy to say, “Hey, you should like, not do that.” But it’s not quite as easy to do in real life. Being in charge, having to make decisions, it’s not something that you’re actively *doing*, so stopping doesn’t really make sense. (And forget going on vacation, that’s MORE stressful, if anything.)

It sure would feel magnificent to be able to set down those burdens like a backpack, even for a moment.

Life: “Were the kids housed, clothed, nourished, and loved today? Did your work project meet the deadline? Did you pick up toilet paper and fix the drain and make the car payment?”
Me, confused: “Uh…I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I had all that under control, but, uh…I don’t seem to have it anymore. To be perfectly honest, I thought someone else was taking care of that.”

::Squints at reader, reading this right now::
“Hey, does that guy look like he could possibly be infected with zombie flu?”

1st day of school!

/ Shane / 1 Comment

It’s finally that time of year again: back to school time!

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Is it me, or did he age about 5 years this summer?

With all of the summer camps and various scheduling house of cards we had going over the summer, I am so relieved to be getting back onto a regular schedule again. On one hand, it feels like we did nothing this summer; on the other hand it seems like we were constantly busy.

Oliver is in a “looping” class, which means he has the same teachers and class again this year. They pretty much picked right up where they left off, almost like the summer didn’t happen. Ollie was VERY happy to be back at school again. I think he didn’t realize how much he missed it until he didn’t have it anymore.

And can you believe, Evie is finally a first grader?

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Evie is essentially the opposite case of Oliver: new teacher and almost completely new children (with the exception of her two very best friends). I think she was as excited to start school as she is about Christmas morning. She could hardly sleep for days.

I haven’t had much of a chance to get to know her teacher or the other parents but, as usual, Evie thrives in these situations. She’s already making some new friends and she loves learning new routines. I’m sure she’s going to have another great year.

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How Chickpeas Made Me a Better Parent

/ Shane / Leave a comment

Parenting in the summer is way harder than parenting during the school year. The kids are spending just a *little* too much time at home, if you know what I mean.

When it comes to parenting,  my default instinct is to punish. “If you don’t get your pajamas on, you’ll lose your story!” “You’re going to miss your chance for breakfast!” “If you don’t get in the car right now vacation is CANCELLED!” Not only does this not work very well, but you run the serious risk of losing all of your parental power. Most threats are completely idle bluffs and don’t stand up well to being called. The more your bluffs are called, the more the kids realize that you actually have no power in the first place. The whole parental authority thing has less basis in reality than the U.S. economy. Aside from that, who wants to be that guy who’s yelling all the time?

Instead, Sara came up with a strict chickpea policy. Every time the kids do something “good”, a dried chickpea is moved from the chickpea supply over to the “ice cream” jar. Once they get 100 chickpeas, they get ice cream.

As far as motivation goes, this works okay for Ollie, but works really well for Evie. She reaaaally wants that ice cream, and tries very hard to be helpful. I wish she wanted to be helpful for its own sake, rather than for external validation, but hey, I’ll take what I can get.

I put “good” in quotes up there, because it is very loosely defined. On the theory that success breeds success, we’ve just been trying to give them chickpeas for ANYTHING. I really think this is the key. I mean, why not, right? It’s not costing you anything, and you do want to encourage ALL good behaviors, right? Said thank you without being prompted? Chickpea. Let your sister pick first when you really, really wanted to pick first? Chickpea. Cleaned your room, helped fold laundry, and went 5 minutes without a fight? Chickpea, chickpea and chickpea. It really does seem like there is a snowball effect: the more chickpeas they earn, the more they want to earn them. (Along those lines, henceforth ice cream will be obtained at only 50 chickpeas. Success breeds success, right?)

The thing is, it’s more than just motivating the kids. This chickpea thing actually puts me in a better mood. It makes me think more positively; I find myself searching for good things to give chickpeas for instead of focusing on the bad things. This just naturally puts me in a better mood, and I don’t think it’s a stretch to say it makes me a better parent.

When I was a kid, my mom had a complicated system of marbles. There was a list of tasks which could earn you marbles, and a list of rewards you could “buy” with marbles. 5 marbles to pick from the prize bucket, 10 marbles to skip out on your “job” (i.e. mom would wash the dishes that night), 20 to spend the night at a friend’s house, etc. I remember this very fondly. Perhaps as time goes on we can elaborate on our system a little.

For now, though, we’re keeping it simple. And yes, the kids have earned their first ice cream!

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In which I earn the badge of parenting bravery

/ Shane / Leave a comment

Sometimes Ollie is just a 3 year old from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. By which I mean that, for no good reason at all, he can be so ornery and obstinate that he can make a mule look like a helpful angel.

It was just such an occasion. I don’t even remember what set him off; it was probably nothing. One minute we’re fine, the next minute he’s melting down. I was doing some project around the house, crawling around and cleaning. I was covered with dust, but I was the closest to him, so managing him fell to me. We’re talking full out rage. His face was red and he was punching and kicking me. I was trying to talk to him, to calm him down, but he was just screaming at the top of his lungs.

I was sitting on his legs so he couldn’t kick me and holding his hands so he couldn’t hit me, when an enormous piece of dust fell off my shoulder and floated oh-so-gently down at him. Unfortunately, since he was full out, vein-popping, rage shrieking, his mouth was wide open when the dust fluttered straight in.

This thing was big. Like, dime sized. Somehow he didn’t notice it. Ugh, it was gross. It settled onto one of his teeth, darkening with the moisture. I couldn’t take it.

“Ollie buddy, you have something in your mouth. Let me get it out.”

No dice. As soon as I mentioned it, he clamped his mouth shut as tight as he could, locking the dust inside. I tried not to gag.

“Ollie, buddy, please. Open up, you have something yucky in your mouth.”

Defiantly, he shook his head back and forth, with murder in his eyes.

I had to get that dust out. I had to. He was probably swallowing it as I watched, just to spite me. However, he was too mad to keep that mouth shut, and he soon commenced screaming again. The dust was still in there, taunting me. I needed to reach in and get it. If I moved fast it could be over and done with before he even knew what was going on. On the other hand, if I moved slow, I knew he would not hesitate to bite my finger off. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted me to put my fingers in his mouth. He wanted it bad.

There was no reasoning with him. There was no leaving it in there.

One. Two. Three.

I dropped my fingers between his teeth, snatched the dust ball, and pulled back, before he could even react.

That’s parenting in a nutshell: you just can’t let your raging, maniac son swallow the dust bunny, even if it costs you a finger.

“I don’t remember”

/ Shane / Leave a comment

It is nearly impossible to get any sort of answer out of Oliver, and it always has been. He really just doesn’t like to stick himself out there, or answer something that might be incorrect. If you ask him any sort of question at all, he reflexively answers “I don’t know” or “I don’t remember”. I think maybe this began as a way to buy himself time to find an answer, but he’s answered this way so often for so long, that he now responds before he actually thinks about the answer to the question. If you asked him his name he would immediately answer, “I don’t remember.”

The only way to get him to answer is to respond, “I know, but what is your guess?” Often, when you ask him to guess, he does have the correct answer when he thinks about it for a second.

I don’t really know what to do about this. It can be extremely frustrating when, question after question, he refuses to make any sort of attempt at an answer. I know that it’s not because he doesn’t know the answer.

In fact, he does not want to do anything to stick out in any way. I noticed that in ballet he never answers any questions when the teacher asks, despite the fact that I know that he knows the answer, and he never volunteers to demonstrate or even to go first in line. I asked him why this was and he just got embarrassed and said, “I just want to do what everyone else is doing.”

It’s a part of his personality, but I do think this has something to do with his sister. He just looks up to her so much, but I notice that whenever he’s in an uncertain situation, he always looks at her to see what she’s doing. She’s his safety blanket, and he gets nervous when she’s not around to set the example. That’s kind of sweet in a way, but my hope is that he blossoms a little bit when he’s in situations without her, such as at school.

I do wish he would just slow down a little bit and think about his answer, instead of reflexively answering “I don’t know”. It’s certainly not a lack of intelligence!