I just caught her reading in bed. 10 years old. 10:43pm on a school night. She’s just started reading The Last Olympian (Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Book 5) and she BEGGED me not to make her stop till she gets past “the good part.”
Oh, I remember that. Except I used to hide under the blanket with a flashlight. She has a reading light clipped to a shelf next to her bed.
I understand. And while part of me is upset with her for still being awake, part of me is over the top THRILLED that she loves to read this much. She’s going to love reading her whole life.
Call me a bad mom. I don’t care. I said: “You may NOT be mean to me in the morning and you WILL get up EXACTLY when I ask you to. Get to a stopping point fast.”
11:02pm. I just heard the reading light being turned off.
FirstHusband to me on the phone: “Your day has changed.”
Me: “How?”
FirstHusband: “You’re going to buy a book. The abridged ‘Count of Monte Cristo'”
Me: “Smack FavoriteSon on the back of the head for me.”
background noise: “HEY!”
FirstHusband, to FavoriteSon: “Just doing what your mom told me to.”
FavoriteSon: “oh.”
I HATE paying retail for a book! FavoriteSon’s known he needed this for a week. I could have gotten it used. online. And considering the entire sophomore class is supposed to bring this book to school tomorrow, I have a feeling it wouldn’t be easy finding it in stock in any brick and mortar store nearby.
Later, when I see FavoriteSon face to face at home…
Me, to FavoriteSon: “Do you get points if you bring this book to class tomorrow?”
FavoriteSon: “No. I have to read the first 9 chapters by tomorrow.”
Me: “Com’ere, so I can smack you on the back of the head.”
FavoriteSon: “No thank you.”
Then, PinkGirl said, “What about Kindle?”
FavoriteSon: “oh yeh! we’re allowed to do that!”
Me to FirstHusband, who was in reach of FavoriteSon: “Smack him again.”
FavoriteSon’s signature grin.
SMART GIRL! We all have ipod touch Kindle apps! $5.99 download. Done.
He better read those nine chapters, or…you guessed it. smack.
PinkGirl has a God story – a story of how God weaved together a bunch of things in her life to bring her to a particular place. Here’s how it went:
1. Bye Bye Birdie – and we mean that literally. The performing arts studio that PinkGirl regularly participates in was supposed to be doing Bye Bye Birdie for their spring play. As it turns out, they didn’t get enough boys to audition and had to switch productions at the last minute. Like I said, bye bye Birdie. They’re doing two relatively unknown shows with a heavy emphasis on dancing.
Dancing is PinkGirl’s weakest link.
The rehearsals have been challenging for her but I’ve seen a lot of improvement the last few months. The hardest thing for her? She didn’t get a part she loved. Between the two plays, she’s: “whiny student,” a villager and a pile of snow. You read that right. A pile of snow. One of many. Every day parts were assigned and she didn’t get one, she asked “What is God doing in my life?” She always asks that question when things don’t go the way she hopes they will. I ask myself the same question when I’m faced with disappointment and obstacles. My answer to her is always the same one I tell myself: “I’m not sure, let’s try and figure out what you’re supposed to learn from this experience.” In this case, my strongest theory was that she needed to focus her attention on the dancing – learn as much as she can and strengthen her skills as much as possible. So she threw her energy at the choreography.
She had also signed up to sing special music at church. Singing as herself and not as a character in a play was a very new experience. Another challenge. I suggested that maybe that was another reason she didn’t get a big part in the plays.
2. Theater for kids, by kids. At this same performing arts company, a group of teenagers have started doing their own productions – interactive theater for children. The shows are on Saturdays at 3pm, an hour and a half after PinkGirl’s regular rehearsals which run from 9am to 1:30pm. I took her to see their production of The Princess and the Frog.
She LOVED it. But not just from the audience’s point of view. She wanted to participate. But these were teenagers. She’s only 10. Undaunted, she asked me to ask the owner of the company to ask the teenagers if they would consider allowing her to be in the next production. A few weeks later, we heard the answer. They were sorry, they would be doing The Emporer’s New Clothes and it just wouldn’t work out to use someone so young. Again with the question. “What is God doing in my life?” I don’t know, babe.
She threw herself back into play rehearsals and signed up to sing special music in church again.
3. The cartwheel. Last month, for the first time since I started recording, I needed someone to watch PinkGirl. Both her brother and father were in Jacksonville at a track meet and we weren’t comfortable leaving her at home alone from 4:30pm to 9:30pm while I was gone. She ended up going home with a friend after school and I picked her up at 9:30 after the session was over. Her friend had tumbling class that night from 6pm to 7pm so she got to go and watch.
For the next two days, she was obsessed with learning to do a cartwheel. Surprisingly, I can still do a cartwheel! Not surprisingly, I have no ability to teach someone else how to do a cartwheel. Subsequently, PinkGirl had no confidence in me and was too scared to throw her feet up in the air. Her cartwheels were not pretty to watch.
Long story short, She went to her first tumbling class last Friday night. And LOVED it.
4. The phone call. It’s spring break, FirstHusband is off for the week and we are on staycation. We’re supposed to go mini-golfing on Tuesday night. The phone rings and it’s the owner of the performing arts company. Would PinkGirl be able to play the part of the princess in The Emporer’s New Clothes? They had their first rehearsal the night before and they decided that PinkGirl would be perfect for the part of the princess. Was this an audition or does she actually have the part? This is it. She’s got the part if she wants it and can commit to the rehearsal and performance schedule. And there’s dancing in this show. Which she’s much better at than she was 3 months ago.
We didn’t go mini-golfing last night. PinkGirl was at rehearsal for The Emporer’s New Clothes. And nobody was upset about that. Especially PinkGirl.
5. The question. As PinkGirl was trying on costumes for The Emporer’s New Clothes, the director asked her, “Can you do a cartwheel?”
PinkGirl had an epiphany. THIS is what God was doing in her life! Preparing her for this! With a big grin, she answered: “Not yet, but I just started tumbling classes so I’ll be able to do one VERY SOON!
God can use anything to teach us faith and patience. Even a cartwheel.
And she’s singing “Pray” by Justine Bieber at all three services this Sunday.
PinkGirl has had a very tough week. To make a 6 month story short, she was bullied to a breaking point. Two weeping meltdowns of resigned hopelessness in two days, and I’m not exaggerating.
This afternoon, she brought a friend home with her and they were lounging on a blanket, on the banks of the pond behind our house. It was peaceful and lazy and I could hear her laughter from my rocking chair on the back porch.
and then.
3 teenage girls came into the clearing and one immediately yelled at PinkGirl and her friend: “Get lost! I HATE children!”
Immediately, with all the breath in my lungs, I yelled “THEN HIT THE ROAD!” It was instinctive. Not one intelligent thought preceded it. The words just flew out of my body.
[Let me just stop and say. WOW! What a difference a year of voice lessons makes! I didn’t even recognize the voice that came out of me. Deep. LOUD. It actually ECHOED.]
The MeanGirls couldn’t have been more stunned than if they had heard a gunshot. They stopped dead in their tracks and looked around. I was on my porch, still in my rocking chair. They had no idea where the big voice came from.
But.
They turned and walked away from PinkGirl and her friend. Silently.
So be forewarned. I have zero tolerance for ANYone being mean to PinkGirl right now. She has no resilience and she needs a few days or weeks to build it back up.
This is one of my go-to phrases with my children, most often my daughter when she’s reacting to something that doesn’t go her way, whether it be a math problem, her brother’s advice on a video game, or a sock with an irritating toe seam.
But more and more, I’m finding myself wanting to plead with some adults: “handle it differently, please.”
While out shopping, I heard a mom tell her talkative toddler to “stop boring me. I don’t want to hear it.” My head shot up so fast I startled her. I think the look on my face (I should never play poker) told her how bad I felt for that little boy because she immediately backpedaled and started asking him questions about his day, what he did, who he played with . . .
While driving home from car line, most every morning I pass a mother and daughter walking to school. The mom is paces ahead, power walking. The daughter is runwalking to keep up, her heavy backpack slowing her down. I wish I could say I prayed for the mom to recognize what she was doing and decide to power walk on the way home, after her daughter was in school. But I didn’t. I judged her. I got upset with her. I decided she was being selfish and ignoring her daughter. Day after day, power walking while her daughter tried to keep up. Not taking advantage of what could be memory making daily walk-n-talks. I wanted to call out the window “YOU’RE MISSING IT!!! PAY ATTENTION!!!!” Then last week, an unexpected surprise – they were walking together, talking. And this time “Thank you, Lord.” came spilling out of my mouth. The next time I see them, I’m confident I will pray instead of judge. That the mom won’t let those precious, fleeting opportunities slip by even one more time.
Friday night, at a school carnival, my daughter is trying to win a goldfish by throwing a ping pong ball in bowls of water. She’s excited and I look at her and say “You better not win a fish. Don’t do it.” and she and I both know I’m teasing her. Not about the fact that I didn’t want a goldfish, because with a 55 gallon saltwater tank at home filled with half the cast of Finding Nemo, I did NOT want a goldfish. I was teasing her about winning one. She and I both knew that if she won a goldfish, I would deal with it. The fishbowl that was purchased to fill with blue jello and gummy fish would instead get filled up with water and we would have goldfish until . . . well until we didn’t have a goldfish. Ya know she won a goldfish – and promptly named it Donald.
Later, I was standing with two sisters, both moms of my daughter’s classmates. The boy excitedly approached his mom, wanting to try for a gold fish. She didn’t even look him in the eye as she said, in flat tone, “You bring a goldfish home and it’s going straight into the toilet.” His shoulder’s dropped. He heard what I heard: “If you bring home a pet fish, I will kill it.” He seemed to know she wouldn’t change her mind. He didn’t argue. Instead, he slipped away unnoticed as she continued talking to her friends. His cousin, a girl, approached her mom, goldfish in hand. The mom, sister to the first mom, said, “I’m not buying one thing for that fish. Not one thing.” The little girl started to argue, and I couldn’t listen, so I went to find my daughter. I judged and wimped out at the same time.
Why would these moms say these things? What is the big deal about a GOLDFISH? Put it in a glass. Buy fish food for a buck or two. Teach a kid how to take care of something smaller than them in a world where other people take care of them all the time. I found myself wondering what kind of home life these two women had growing up.
And I had a humbling epiphany. Some kids grow up to emulate their parents, some kids grow up fiercely determined not to emulate their parents. Doesn’t make me any better. Or any less damaged.
Doesn’t mean I make the right decisions when it comes to my kids either. Because, as I was standing, holding Donald the goldfish in a plastic bag, waiting for my kids to be bored with the carnival, a woman approached me. She wanted to buy the fish to give to a little girl who was crying because after trying and trying to toss a ping pong ball in a bowl of water, she still couldn’t win a goldfish – like her sister did. I found PinkGirl and explained the situation and asked her if she would consider giving her fish to the little girl, since she herself had Nemo and Marlin and Dory . . . PinkGirl reluctantly, but immediately said I could give away her goldfish. So I did.
Then.
PinkGirl had giver’s remorse. There were big crocodile tears and “I want DONALD back.”
oh. no.
There wasn’t any getting Donald back at that point. Donald was long gone with his new owner, a beaming little girl. Meanwhile, MY little girl was heartbroken. For the rest of the night, which thankfully, wasn’t but about an hour and a half, we snuggled. I wiped her tears. I stroked her hair and rubbed her back. I apologized again and again for giving away her fish. (even though I had permission.) I carried her partway to the car and then handed her over to her dad to carry her the rest of the way because I’m not as strong as I wish I was.
Then, the next morning, Saturday, she and I talked about it again and she told me she thought she did the right thing, but that she was still sad about it. By Sunday, she had forgotten all about Donald.
I wish I could say I’m not going to judge parents when I hear or see them say or do things that hurt their children. But my immediate identification with a child in one of these situations practically insures that I will. As an adult, I’m asking God to allow me to see the parent as wounded too, not just the child. I’m praying that I will stop – mid-judgment – and pray for that parent as well as that child.
I know how much I need prayer instead of judgment. I’ve got my own list of things I should handle differently.
“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.
Luke 16:10 (NIV)
FavoriteSon wants to buy a song, but it’s designated as “album only” meaning he can’t purchase the single, he would have to purchase the entire album to get one song. This fact makes him . . . unhappy. After the onslaught of “It’s not fair!” and “This is stupid.” he asked me if I would let him rip it from youtube. For free.
Me: “That would be illegal.”
FavoriteSon: “But I can’t buy it! You said we can get it from youtube when we can’t buy it!”
Me: “Yes, but in this case, you CAN buy it. You just can’t buy it under the circumstances that you prefer.”
FavoriteSon: “Do you know how many of my friends get music from youtube?”
Me, silent, with the face he knows so well. The one raised eyebrow, sustained eye contact face that says, you’re gonna get NOWHERE with this argument, cause we’ve long ago established that when presented with the “but my friends do it” argument, I. am. unmoved.
FavoriteSon: “Yeabut …” (let the whining and attempt to persuade begin)
I’m in frugality mode these days so I turn right to the chapter entitled: “Saving Money.” A few pages in and I find a reference to Luke 16:
“The words of Jesus at the end of this story are a powerful reminder of our responsibility with money. ‘”Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.'”
I get out of the sauna and before I hit the shower, I hand the book to FavoriteSon, pointing to this paragraph.
Me: “Read this while I’m in the shower and we’ll continue our conversation in a few minutes.”
He was ready for me when I get out.
FavortiteSon: “What if . . . I buy a song I DON’T WANT from the same band and then delete it. THEN can I get the song I really want from youtube?”
His father took this one: “Let’s say your sister wanted a particular Pokemon card and let’s say you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was in a larger package of cards that cost $10. There was a two pack of cards for 99 cents. What would you say if she asked to buy the two pack, but trade out to get the one card she really wanted . . . ”
FavoriteSon: “That’s totally different!”
Me: “Why?”
FavoriteSon: silence.
Me: “Because it’s stealing?”
FavoriteSon: “That would be stealing, but this is different.”
Me: “Because it’s not a tangible item?”
FavoriteSon, not convincingly: “no”
Me: “Let me ask you this. How much is one song from this album?
FavoriteSon: “$1.39”
Me: “And how much is the entire album?”
FavoriteSon: “$8.00”
Me: “So all this is about $6.61?”
FavoriteSon: (silence)
Me: “seriously? $6.61. (pause) He who can be trusted with little . . . ”
FavoriteSon: (the grin that comes with knowing his reasoning has a big ol gaping hole in it.)
this parenting thing, I’m tellin ya.
“The trite saying that honesty is the best policy has met with
the just criticism that honesty is not policy. The real honest man is
honest from conviction of what is right, not from policy.”
Robert E. Lee
We don’t send our daughter to bed. We put our daughter to bed. We spend a few minutes at the end of the day tucking her in, saying prayers and listening to her – really listening to her – and we are absolutely amazed at what she shares with us. The things she thinks about, the stuff she never mentions during the busyness of the day, comes pouring out.
During those few minutes, we get precious opportunities to help her consider ideas she hadn’t thought of before, to guide her through problem solving and relationship issues and to lead her to new conclusions. We get to talk about God and ideas and feelings and passions and fears and goals instead of the functional things of the day that include lunches, homework, chores, laundry, rides . . .
Sometimes, we just listen.
We only recently stopped these end of the day conversations with our near 15 year old son. Why, I wonder? Just because he’s becoming more and more independent every day? Because we don’t have a regular bedtime routine for him anymore? Or are we just being lazy? There’s a loveseat in his room that I need to sit on tonight.
I want my children to be thinking of these conversations as they drift off to sleep. I want these conversations to filter into their dreams. I want them to wake up with a vision of God as the center and compass of their lives, an awareness of possibility and a sense that they can influence their future by the choices they make and the actions they take.
What are your night time routines?
“It is incumbent upon us as stewards of these precious lives to introduce them to their potential, to lift their eyes off of today’s realities and focus them on tomorrow’s possibilities . . .
The most significant visions are not cast by great orators from a stage. They are cast at the bedsides of our children. The greatest visioncasting opportunities happen between the hours of 7:30 and 9:30 p.m. Monday through Sunday. In these closing hours of the day we have a unique opportunity to plant the seeds of what could be and what should be. Take advantage of every opportunity you get.”
I’m still asking for your best/favorite/unique/effective PARENTING TIP
It can be a tip about ANYTHING. Regardless of the age or gender of the child – it can be pragmatic practices, logistics, shaping character, spiritual development, allowances, scheduling extra-curricular activities, nurturing talents and skills, potty training, dealing with tantrums, bedtime and sleeping habits, developing relationships with your teenager, cell phone limits, family policies, dealing with schoolwork, sibling relationships, dealing with a parent who travels a lot . . . ANYTHING that worked or is working for you!
Comment or write your own blog post and link to it in a comment. Share one tip or many!
