Archive for the ‘Family Notes’ Category

The gift of giving is passed down through blood lines

Grandmother Mom Daughter

 

Three Generations: My mom, my daughter Johannah, and me

It occurred to me this morning that both my parents (no longer married) have each sent money/financial gifts to me at various points in my adult life, for things ranging from Teflon coated pans and maternity clothes while in Morocco, to camcorders plus customs tax (no small price back in 1987!), to trips to Kansas City for a conference for the entire (then) 6 person clan, to couches and carpet cleanings. They’ve paid for ski trips when I was in college and new clothes postpartum (five times over!). They use their Nordstrom discounts and their credit cards to buy shoes and dinners, trips on Catalina Express and flights on planes. They’ve loaned me cars and have put my family up in cabins and beach houses.

They’ve sent generous amounts of money at Christmas when Jon and I didn’t know how we’d pay for gifts for the kids. My mom has traveled to France, Morocco, and Ohio to see me/us, and my dad has traveled to Ohio. They’ve given me sentimental jewelry and photos (and photo albums!). They both supported Jon and me financially when we were missionaries, even when they weren’t sure they agreed with the mission. They’ve put us up in their homes, apartments, condos—from just me, on a pull-out couch in college, to the ever-expanding seven of us sprawling throughout the house on couches and in beds, back down to the smaller version of us now.

I didn’t ask for these gifts. They would simply offer, as the circumstance arose. They were quick to send the finances or the tickets or the new skirt, never promising and not following through.

My mom, when I once through tears told her I wondered if I’d ever be able to take my kids to a restaurant or hotel because we were so poor and I couldn’t imagine that ever changing, said, wisely, “You’re just coming into your earning years now. You’ll be amazed at how things change.” It comforted me.

The gifts from my parents were never “bail outs” for mistakes made. They were rooted in generosity for a family on one income with lots of kids. I keep thinking how lucky I am to have had parents who were generous, even when their own finances were tight.

I thought about all these things this morning because all I want to do now is spend money on my adult children any time I hear they have a need. I stopped to consider why I feel that way. Then this long list of reasons spilled out of me.

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The oldest and the youngest

Noah, Caitrin, and LiamOldest child, Noah, on the left. Youngest two, Caitrin and Liam, on the right.

Have you noticed how your oldest child gets the lion’s share of your attention no matter what age or stage that child is in? It’s as if 7 is the most critical age ever (will she ever learn to read?), or 10 (maybe he can watch the baby), or 13 (when it All Starts Counting), or 16 (he can drive!), or 18 (she’s going to college!).

Meanwhile, your youngest child hits 7 and you think, “Aw. Such a cutie. So young. It’s okay if you don’t read yet.”

That youngest child turns 13 and you think, “We’ve got time. He’s just 13.”

It’s time to drive and you think, “What’s the rush?”

Sometimes in home education, the oldest writes essays by 8th grade, and by the time the youngest hits that age, you realize you literally have done no writing with this child. It sneaks up on you. You wonder how the years flew by and how you never noticed. You panic. “I’m failing my child!”

It’s a common scenario.

It happens to the best of us. Why?

Because the oldest is always doing what you have never parented before.

The oldest child creates in you the most wide-eyed amazement, anticipation, and anxiety (the trifecta!) of all your children because each event, each milestone, each achievement hangs in the balance until you’ve crested that hill together with that kid. You do all of it for your child, yes. But these experiences are also training you. You’re on a learning curve with the oldest that you never feel in quite the same way again.

Which means… if you have 3, 4, 6, 8, 10 kids… as you work your way down the bunch, the newness, the novelty, and the nerves are greatly reduced… in some cases almost to the point of neglect! You wake up to realize that this youngest child is in high school and you almost forgot it would happen!

Guilt rushes in as your energy for doing it all again rushes out. It’s natural, even if not optimal.

One benefit that the youngers have that the oldest didn’t is role models.
They have been watching each older sibling achieve and they are aware of what’s coming. You can capitalize on this benefit. Get the older kids involved. Have them talk to the youngers about what’s coming and how to prepare. Have them ask the sibling: “Did you take your Driver’s License test yet?” or “Make sure you take AP European history. You’ll be good at it.” They can be the ones to help create the trajectory the youngers will follow.

Triangle in help.
It is tedious to go through algebra six – nine times. Maybe a co-op class or a tutor gives you just enough relief and provides the structure you no longer can.

Celebrate all milestones.
You might not throw eight parties every other year for a decade, but you can mark an achievement with a Facebook status, a dinner out, a gift, or photos to commemorate the moment. Take time to say how proud you are of the youngest, even if the achievement feels old hat to you. It never is to the individual child.

Lastly, it’s never too late to get involved in the education of your youngest kids.
If you accidentally lost your way or passion for home education, remind yourself that the goal is a quality education, not proving yourself as a homeschooler. Be sure you put your child’s interests first and find the right context for that child’s education—no matter what that is.

If you want to re-up for homeschool, do it! Get new curricula (so you’ll be interested again) and change up how it gets done. Computer classes, part-time enrollment, using an iPad, studying at the local library instead of the kitchen table…

As the older kids leave home, provide treats for the younger kids. It costs less to have everyone’s favorite drinks or ice cream in the house when you only have two kids at home. Keep them in stock. Go out to eat more. Catch a movie or get coffee.

Take advantage of the portability of teenage youngest kids. Do stuff together. Try a new activity like indoor rock climbing or watching old movies. Make sure these kids get a quality experience, even if a different kind of home education than your oldest kids got.

I love having a big family. It’s a different ballgame with my youngest two still at home and the older three out of the house. I’m still learning how to do it, too.

Cross-posted on facebook.

Posted in Family Notes, Homeschool Advice, Julie's Life | 3 Comments »

That thing called regret

UntitledI made a decision early on to live in a way that I would have no regrets. Maybe we all do that at some point. I felt good about the choices I made, the conscientiousness with which I researched before I made those choices. I trusted my worldview and I adopted an outlook about my life that felt solid, reliable, and responsible.

I also committed myself to reevaluation—to question my assumptions.

For instance, I remember when Noah was small and I was pregnant with Johannah, I lived in missionary housing (an apartment building) with a slew of other missionary families on furlough. I remember seeing all these moms running around with their kids while I formed judgments about their parenting. I was in my 20s! That’s what you do in your 20s.

But one day it dawned on me: If I have judgments about those parents, they must have them about me and how I parent too. I can still remember where I was standing when this flash of awareness dawned on me.

I screwed up my courage and went to my favorite friend in the complex and told her: “Kris, we judge each other’s parenting. I just realized that you all must have opinions about how I’m raising my kids. Would you mind sharing with me what you see that I’m not seeing that would help me be a better mother to Noah?”

Kris paused, “What a great question! I want to take it seriously. Let me think for a day or two and then I’ll tell you what I’ve observed.”

And she did. I took her comments to heart. I tried to apply her advice. In hindsight, not all of what she shared worked for my kid (her kid turned out to be a very different kind of person than my kid, as I’ve learned 24 years later, though both are wonderful young adults). But what I felt in that moment with Kris was that I wanted very much not to be in a prison of my own making, blind to my blind spots.

As my children got older, I read all kinds of books (the most helpful for conversational style and tone were the two by Faber and Mazlish—How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk, and Siblings without Rivalry), I went to therapy, I joined online discussion groups, I attended parenting classes, I sought advice from friends, I consulted my mother, I watched other families and often determined I did not want what I saw there, and in some instances, very much wanted what I saw there.

Over time, a core philosophy grew in me. But it came at a price. I often wished I knew “then” what I had just adopted and learned “now.”

Regret is born when you revise your primary assumptions.

Let me rephrase that.

You feel regret when you shift paradigms, when you discover that what you have been doing (even with resolve, commitment, and good intentions) turns out not to have been as good for you and the rest of your clan as you had originally believed.

Regret doesn’t only come from bad choices or even failure to live up to your ideals.

Regret comes from discovering that what you knew then wasn’t as good as what you know now, and you wish you could go back and have a “do over.”

But you can’t go back. There’s no time turner for life.

As my local running store slogan reminds me every day: “Live life in forward motion.”

You can only do what you know to do now. You can repair through apology, but the most powerful way to get out of the cycle of regret is to enthusiastically embrace the new insight and live into it. Drop the self-recriminations, be glad you have a chance to change, and move into the new paradigm with alacrity.

One benefit to regret: you become human. People like you better when they know you’ve been through a few things, like they have, and are still going, still trying, still learning.

No one gets it right on the first try, or the last try. We all operate with the insight of today. The worst thing to do is to cling to what isn’t working to avoid regretting it.

Be gentle with yourself. Be open to change and growth. Embrace the adventure of living.

Peace. ♥

Cross-posted on facebook.

Image by Guilherme Yagui

Posted in Family Notes, Julie's Life, On Being a Mother | 1 Comment »