I awoke this morning to a cold house and the heat just blowing for all it's worth. It seems that after Z and a boy had let Buddy the Dog out this morning, he'd decided he wanted back in. Since they were already gone and the rest of us were asleep, he ditched the back yard and tried the front door, which, luckily for him, was not secured. So he nudged it open and happily curled up on his bed in the living room. Leaving the 22 degree air to waft through the house for us. Anybody had any luck teaching a dog to close a door?
So, I'm up. Really up. Wide awake and ready to roll! That's good.
And Z had made coffee before he headed out. Also appreciated.
We have a quiet weekend planned. The Scouts are serving a pancake breakfast this morning, and Jacob has rehearsals. A little reading, a little cleaning. Worship tomorrow. Our weekends aren't the most exciting thing in the world, but they are so very nourishing -- time for us to spend together, time for us to regroup.
It just hit me that the kids probably don't see the rhythm of it all. Hmmm. I don't want to be pedantic and turn every interaction into a "lesson" for them, but I don't want them to miss the opportunity to spot the importance of downtime, of cycling your activity, of touching base and recharging. They're going to need that one day (some sooner than others). Maybe I'll point it out this afternoon - make a pot of tea, read aloud, express my appreciation for this time. The appreciation bit is absolutely genuine. And who doesn't love a little hot tea on a cold afternoon?
I do hope the house is warmer by then.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Saturday, February 4
Friday, February 3
The Best People In The World
Do you know who the best people in the world are? They're the ones who "get" your kid. The ones who believe in her and have high expectations for her, but who step in with grace and affection and love when the kid gets overwhelmed, or makes an honest mistake, or even does something boneheaded.
They're the ones who give you room to laugh and shake your head and remember that we were all once just-barely-grown and trying to figure it all out.
They allow you to shed your frustration and come back to a place of support and encouragement.
They're the ones who point out what they love about your child when your brain is freaking out and you're starting to wonder if the only real options available are homelessness or living in the basement. (Which, they're not. But the brain is a crazy organ with a warped sense of humor.)
They're the ones who willingly write up a letter of recommendation on only 12 hours notice because someone didn't read the application all the way to the end before taking a deep, panicked breath and starting on the essay.
They're the ones who share their own stories with your child -- about missed deadlines, or botched labs, or fender benders, or whatever mishap your own kid is currently beating herself about the head for. (We actually spent about half an hour at book club a couple of weeks ago sharing stories of freak car incidents we'd all experienced, to encourage a young man who'd had One Of Those Days. In the end, he was able to laugh - mostly at us, and our ridiculous stories - and realize that he hadn't doomed himself to being That Kid forever and ever.)
They laugh gently, they cluck sympathetically, they point out that it doesn't mean you're awful, it means you're human.
And humans are fantastic if you give them room to be!
The best way to find these people is to be one of these people. If you have this, feed it regularly and roll around in it - you're all doing good work, and it matters. If you don't have this, fire it up. Roll up your sleeves and go love on some kids. You'll find your people. They tend to create a symbiotic energy, encouraging and loving on each other and each other's children in turn. It's a beautiful gift you can give to yourself, your children, your friends, their children, and so on. It really is.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
They're the ones who give you room to laugh and shake your head and remember that we were all once just-barely-grown and trying to figure it all out.
They allow you to shed your frustration and come back to a place of support and encouragement.
They're the ones who point out what they love about your child when your brain is freaking out and you're starting to wonder if the only real options available are homelessness or living in the basement. (Which, they're not. But the brain is a crazy organ with a warped sense of humor.)
They're the ones who willingly write up a letter of recommendation on only 12 hours notice because someone didn't read the application all the way to the end before taking a deep, panicked breath and starting on the essay.
They're the ones who share their own stories with your child -- about missed deadlines, or botched labs, or fender benders, or whatever mishap your own kid is currently beating herself about the head for. (We actually spent about half an hour at book club a couple of weeks ago sharing stories of freak car incidents we'd all experienced, to encourage a young man who'd had One Of Those Days. In the end, he was able to laugh - mostly at us, and our ridiculous stories - and realize that he hadn't doomed himself to being That Kid forever and ever.)
They laugh gently, they cluck sympathetically, they point out that it doesn't mean you're awful, it means you're human.
And humans are fantastic if you give them room to be!
The best way to find these people is to be one of these people. If you have this, feed it regularly and roll around in it - you're all doing good work, and it matters. If you don't have this, fire it up. Roll up your sleeves and go love on some kids. You'll find your people. They tend to create a symbiotic energy, encouraging and loving on each other and each other's children in turn. It's a beautiful gift you can give to yourself, your children, your friends, their children, and so on. It really is.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Thursday, February 2
I Don't Know What I'm Doing, And Neither Do They
Yesterday, I had such a wonderful visit with a friend. I think you would find it encouraging, too. So that's what I'm going to talk about.
To be fair, in my circle of friends, the parents seem to have a good grasp on that, but the kids don't believe them. The fledglings are stressed, worried, unsure, and a little weirded out by this whole process. The parents, after a couple of decades raising children, have realized that nobody really knows what they're doing, and that's OK.
Certainly, we educate ourselves, we approach choices thoughtfully, and try (with all our might) to make sure we're making the best choice we can with the information we have. But in the end, it always feels like we're blindfolded, throwing darts. It takes us a while to realize all the others around us feel the same way. Thankfully, we're not all actually doing just that (that sounds like a terribly dangerous room to be in), but it absolutely feels that way. We come to terms with that at some point.
So I'm not really talking to you. But in a way, I am. When we understand that about ourselves, we can combine that understanding with the fact that that kids - who still have way more energy than we do, tend to experience things very deeply, have a drive to do Amazing things, and are also blessed with the ability to be ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN about many things - are also still very much just younger versions of their adult selves (they just haven't realized yet that the blindfolds-and-darts feelings don't ever really go away), and we can then relate to and encourage them in meaningful ways. Mostly by modeling and living what we know to be true. Definitely by using more than words...
Other than, "Don't worry about it," which sounds supremely ridiculous after umpteen years of, "You have to take care of the things in front of you!" and "Deadlines matter!" and other such prudent direction.
...Other than, "You'll figure it out".
...Other than, "You don't have to know what you're going to do." Again, compare this to at least a dozen years of hearing people - family, friends, strangers in the grocery store - ask them what they want to be when they grow up. After a while, it's pretty easy to interpret that to mean they're expected to have not just a clue, but an entire plan. If your fledgling is in the last few years of school, he/she likely feel like it's quickly heading to a double jeopardy round -
Some kids do have a plan. They have a solid plan. It is THE PLAN. And they come apart at the seams when that plan changes, or dissolves. They need us to model that it's OK.
Some kids are afraid to make a plan, because if it changes or dissolves, then that's failure. We have to think fondly back on some of our more meaningful failures and let them see us laugh about it, now. It's OK.
Some kids use the hold-off-on-all-decisions-until-there-is-only-one-option left approach to figuring out their path forward. For this, I can only recommend a hearty snifter of brandy and a good book. That one's painful to watch. But they're going to be OK. And honestly, they're going to be OK much more quickly than they feel, or we fear, or than anyone suspects. We need to reflect that they can do it, and that it will be OK.
I think the key might be in knowing (in our hearts) that it will be OK, and then freeing ourselves up from the pressure and the uncertainty to listen to (really hear) them, to empathize, and then we can throw darts to get the timing down for when to nudge and when to break out the tea and sympathy.
If you have fledged ones, what do they say was the most encouraging for them? What would they say helped the most as they were heading out? We'd love to hear their thoughts!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Kids Don't Know What They're Going To Do -- and that's OK.
To be fair, in my circle of friends, the parents seem to have a good grasp on that, but the kids don't believe them. The fledglings are stressed, worried, unsure, and a little weirded out by this whole process. The parents, after a couple of decades raising children, have realized that nobody really knows what they're doing, and that's OK.
Certainly, we educate ourselves, we approach choices thoughtfully, and try (with all our might) to make sure we're making the best choice we can with the information we have. But in the end, it always feels like we're blindfolded, throwing darts. It takes us a while to realize all the others around us feel the same way. Thankfully, we're not all actually doing just that (that sounds like a terribly dangerous room to be in), but it absolutely feels that way. We come to terms with that at some point.
So I'm not really talking to you. But in a way, I am. When we understand that about ourselves, we can combine that understanding with the fact that that kids - who still have way more energy than we do, tend to experience things very deeply, have a drive to do Amazing things, and are also blessed with the ability to be ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN about many things - are also still very much just younger versions of their adult selves (they just haven't realized yet that the blindfolds-and-darts feelings don't ever really go away), and we can then relate to and encourage them in meaningful ways. Mostly by modeling and living what we know to be true. Definitely by using more than words...
Other than, "Don't worry about it," which sounds supremely ridiculous after umpteen years of, "You have to take care of the things in front of you!" and "Deadlines matter!" and other such prudent direction.
...Other than, "You'll figure it out".
...Other than, "You don't have to know what you're going to do." Again, compare this to at least a dozen years of hearing people - family, friends, strangers in the grocery store - ask them what they want to be when they grow up. After a while, it's pretty easy to interpret that to mean they're expected to have not just a clue, but an entire plan. If your fledgling is in the last few years of school, he/she likely feel like it's quickly heading to a double jeopardy round -
"I'll take College Majors for a thousand and pray I don't choke, Alex."
Some kids do have a plan. They have a solid plan. It is THE PLAN. And they come apart at the seams when that plan changes, or dissolves. They need us to model that it's OK.
Some kids are afraid to make a plan, because if it changes or dissolves, then that's failure. We have to think fondly back on some of our more meaningful failures and let them see us laugh about it, now. It's OK.
Some kids use the hold-off-on-all-decisions-until-there-is-only-one-option left approach to figuring out their path forward. For this, I can only recommend a hearty snifter of brandy and a good book. That one's painful to watch. But they're going to be OK. And honestly, they're going to be OK much more quickly than they feel, or we fear, or than anyone suspects. We need to reflect that they can do it, and that it will be OK.
I think the key might be in knowing (in our hearts) that it will be OK, and then freeing ourselves up from the pressure and the uncertainty to listen to (really hear) them, to empathize, and then we can throw darts to get the timing down for when to nudge and when to break out the tea and sympathy.
If you have fledged ones, what do they say was the most encouraging for them? What would they say helped the most as they were heading out? We'd love to hear their thoughts!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Sunday, January 29
We Cannot Do Everything
That sounds so trite. I know. But here it is, Sunday, and I'll tell you, I am dragging. Dragging more than the schedule would indicate makes sense. But I think maybe I've reached the limit of my contortions and we're going to have to scale something back. (As I write that, I am reminded that I have a meeting Wednesday to see if I can help with the back end of a project coming up... hmm... probably should have written this post last week. Someone get me a Time-Turner! Or a virtual assistant!)
James and I headed out of town yesterday for a photo shoot. That was a fantastic experience. Not just the shoot, but the whole road trip. I so enjoy spending time with him, and when we're on the road (and nobody's doing Zombie Rainbow Dash impressions in the second row, so it's quiet), we have time to just talk. Laugh. Ponder. He's a neat young man, and I'm glad to know him.
This afternoon, the boys went to their Godparents' with Z to split and stack wood for the house. I love that when we mentioned the need, they all said, "When do you wanna go?" This wasn't on my radar when I was pregnant with any of them, but if I'd thought about it, it's one of the traits I'd have prayed for for each one. Lord, make them generous in spirit and willing to work. ( Now, I pray, "Lord, thank you for thinking of that when I was too young and scared to think beyond, 'Please let them be OK'!")
When the rest of us got home, I turned the Littles loose to play video games for a bit and I worked on the menu, the lesson plans, social media, work, and chatting with a cousin. That was lovely. No clue how to make our weeks less draining yet, but hopefully inspiration will strike soon. If not, there are a few episodes of Doc Martin left, and I have fuzzy socks!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
James and I headed out of town yesterday for a photo shoot. That was a fantastic experience. Not just the shoot, but the whole road trip. I so enjoy spending time with him, and when we're on the road (and nobody's doing Zombie Rainbow Dash impressions in the second row, so it's quiet), we have time to just talk. Laugh. Ponder. He's a neat young man, and I'm glad to know him.
This afternoon, the boys went to their Godparents' with Z to split and stack wood for the house. I love that when we mentioned the need, they all said, "When do you wanna go?" This wasn't on my radar when I was pregnant with any of them, but if I'd thought about it, it's one of the traits I'd have prayed for for each one. Lord, make them generous in spirit and willing to work. ( Now, I pray, "Lord, thank you for thinking of that when I was too young and scared to think beyond, 'Please let them be OK'!")
When the rest of us got home, I turned the Littles loose to play video games for a bit and I worked on the menu, the lesson plans, social media, work, and chatting with a cousin. That was lovely. No clue how to make our weeks less draining yet, but hopefully inspiration will strike soon. If not, there are a few episodes of Doc Martin left, and I have fuzzy socks!
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Thursday, January 26
Packing Lists and Trekking Plans
I got a belated Christmas surprise this week:
I'm going to Philmont with the boys this summer!
Oh, how I wish I had a stash of gifs to put right here! (Picture dance gifs and confetti. Maybe even music.)
This is my one chance to go. James has aged out without ever a whisper of a desire to spend that much time outside. Jacob is only waiting for John to earn his Eagle and then he wants to switch to Civil Air Patrol. This is it. This is the Big Opportunity! I'm so excited!
And my gear is all about 30 years old...
Well, then.
At the meeting this week, we got to check out some fun options the others on the crew are adding to their stashes. It is astounding to see how much backcountry technology has improved in the last... few years. (😉 Few decades. Something like that.)
John and I decided we would be best off marking our top priorities from the packing list, then buying one item each payday, starting with the Most Wanted. So I'm going to add things as we find them. If you have a favorite backpacking item you'd like to share, post it in the comments below! We'd love to see what you love on the trail!
Be encouraged!
~Dy
Wednesday, January 25
Opportunity Costs
So this was weird...
James seems to be zeroing in on the college he wants to go to. It's entirely his choice, and I think he's putting some good thought into his choice. He's leaning toward the one that's probably the best fit for him.
And now I find myself fretting over the ones he isn't leaning toward. (But, this campus is lovely! And that Physics program is amazing! But what about... But this one has... But, but but...) Which feels very dumb, and vaguely like I'm upset about his choice, which I'm not.
So what IS that?
It's fear. It's the Very Real Application of the concept of Opportunity Cost, and while it's not a Big Hairy Fear, I still don't like it. It's uncomfortable.
I've faced it before -- I got married (if you marry this one person, that means that none of the other people out there who are very good people can be your spouse), and that didn't bother me. I bought a house (and goodness knows that's a bit more of a commitment than picking a college... *raised eyebrow*). I choose grocery items and hair color, vehicles and clothing, doctors and medical choices... regularly, and with some skill. Why the difference here?
So I asked some trusted friends if they thought perhaps I am losing my mind. They've both got children out there, studying outside the nest, doing new things. They're about 10 klicks ahead of me on this particular journey. Both responded with a resounding, "Totally normal." It turns out, this is, in fact normal. We don't know why.
Perhaps it's because we dream larger than life for our children. We want to offer them the best of everything, and we don't want to limit them. We spend the bulk of two decades trying to cobble together opportunities and weave them into an Anything is Possible array for them. After that kind of lifestyle, we spend time looking at colleges and seeing some pretty fantastic things here and there... and then ask them to limit the the next few years of their lives by picking Just One. It feels like shutting doors. Well, it is shutting doors, but that's not a bad thing. You can't move forward if you don't pick a door and go through it.
(Worse, though, if you're a child of the 80's, it starts to feel like they probably just picked the door with the worn out mule behind it.)
But they're not just guessing. (I mean, some of it may be guessing, but at least in our house, I'm hearing enough thoughtful conversation to be reassured that it's not entirely guesswork. And that's enough. I'm happy. A lot of life is at least partially guesswork, anyway, so welcome to the club, Kids!)
I think he'll thrive there. I think, too, that I'll be fine with the Opportunity Costs, and that I will eventually get a handle on not fretting over all the things he's not doing while he's busy doing something he is immersed in. (The feedback from the 10-klicks-ahead crew indicates that yes, this is trueish.)
If he gets there and has a serious Gob moment ("I've made a huge mistake"), then he can change direction and shift gears. He'll figure it out. My part is not to let the fear that creeps in now take over my mouth when he actually needs my input. So. That's my assignment for now.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
James seems to be zeroing in on the college he wants to go to. It's entirely his choice, and I think he's putting some good thought into his choice. He's leaning toward the one that's probably the best fit for him.
And now I find myself fretting over the ones he isn't leaning toward. (But, this campus is lovely! And that Physics program is amazing! But what about... But this one has... But, but but...) Which feels very dumb, and vaguely like I'm upset about his choice, which I'm not.
So what IS that?
It's fear. It's the Very Real Application of the concept of Opportunity Cost, and while it's not a Big Hairy Fear, I still don't like it. It's uncomfortable.
I've faced it before -- I got married (if you marry this one person, that means that none of the other people out there who are very good people can be your spouse), and that didn't bother me. I bought a house (and goodness knows that's a bit more of a commitment than picking a college... *raised eyebrow*). I choose grocery items and hair color, vehicles and clothing, doctors and medical choices... regularly, and with some skill. Why the difference here?
So I asked some trusted friends if they thought perhaps I am losing my mind. They've both got children out there, studying outside the nest, doing new things. They're about 10 klicks ahead of me on this particular journey. Both responded with a resounding, "Totally normal." It turns out, this is, in fact normal. We don't know why.
Perhaps it's because we dream larger than life for our children. We want to offer them the best of everything, and we don't want to limit them. We spend the bulk of two decades trying to cobble together opportunities and weave them into an Anything is Possible array for them. After that kind of lifestyle, we spend time looking at colleges and seeing some pretty fantastic things here and there... and then ask them to limit the the next few years of their lives by picking Just One. It feels like shutting doors. Well, it is shutting doors, but that's not a bad thing. You can't move forward if you don't pick a door and go through it.
(Worse, though, if you're a child of the 80's, it starts to feel like they probably just picked the door with the worn out mule behind it.)
But they're not just guessing. (I mean, some of it may be guessing, but at least in our house, I'm hearing enough thoughtful conversation to be reassured that it's not entirely guesswork. And that's enough. I'm happy. A lot of life is at least partially guesswork, anyway, so welcome to the club, Kids!)
I think he'll thrive there. I think, too, that I'll be fine with the Opportunity Costs, and that I will eventually get a handle on not fretting over all the things he's not doing while he's busy doing something he is immersed in. (The feedback from the 10-klicks-ahead crew indicates that yes, this is trueish.)
If he gets there and has a serious Gob moment ("I've made a huge mistake"), then he can change direction and shift gears. He'll figure it out. My part is not to let the fear that creeps in now take over my mouth when he actually needs my input. So. That's my assignment for now.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Sunday, January 22
Getting Ready
The Alabama Fashion Alliance is gearing up for the 6th Annual Fashion Week Alabama, and it is really amazing to see this come together. They have national award-winning designers, emerging local designers, as well as some uniquely Southern fashion resources participating. The models put in several hours of good, focused work today, and they are looking great. The photographers involved are truly phenomenal. (Yes, that sounds like an ad. It's not. I do not know what it takes to have the vision and creativity that brings this together, but I'm tickled to see it all happen. If I weren't behind the scenes -- mostly just offering to carry things and trying to stay out of the way -- I'd swear it was magic.) It's not. It's like most successful things: it happens because of hard work and a willingness to work together, to learn, to share ideas and effort. But the end result looks a lot like magic.
Both of the boys will be walking that week, so we were there for the duration today. And probably will be for quite a lot of the time in the coming months. If nothing else, spending hours on end around models and photographers is good for my posture, right?
We let out to find we were in the midst of a crazy storm. Flood warning. People cruising down the highway doing 30mph, just flying past everyone else doing 20mph with hazards on. All of the overpasses were packed with cars beneath them, hoping to wait it out. We slunk on home only to find the drive is flooded. I decided to risk it (which I would normally never, ever encourage anyone to do -- but it was less than 6" deep going over the drive and I figured that was as shallow as it was likely to be until tomorrow). We made it and are tucked safely inside. I did immediately alert John, though, as he is at work and may need to spend the night elsewhere. Wee! Winter in the South, y'all!
And that's about it. I'm going to curl up with a good book or two and a cup of coffee and wait to see what the plan will be.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Both of the boys will be walking that week, so we were there for the duration today. And probably will be for quite a lot of the time in the coming months. If nothing else, spending hours on end around models and photographers is good for my posture, right?
We let out to find we were in the midst of a crazy storm. Flood warning. People cruising down the highway doing 30mph, just flying past everyone else doing 20mph with hazards on. All of the overpasses were packed with cars beneath them, hoping to wait it out. We slunk on home only to find the drive is flooded. I decided to risk it (which I would normally never, ever encourage anyone to do -- but it was less than 6" deep going over the drive and I figured that was as shallow as it was likely to be until tomorrow). We made it and are tucked safely inside. I did immediately alert John, though, as he is at work and may need to spend the night elsewhere. Wee! Winter in the South, y'all!
And that's about it. I'm going to curl up with a good book or two and a cup of coffee and wait to see what the plan will be.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Saturday, January 21
Great Scott!
I feel the way Doc Brown looks. Thursdays are hard, y'all. And yes, I know it's Saturday. THAT'S how hard Thursdays are! But we made it. We're good to go. We weren't even late to things. The boys and I have a seminar at church to get to this morning, and I do believe I'mma let someone else drive. *yawn*
The college fair was interesting. There were about 30 schools there, and just enough students to keep them busy, but not so many that it became automated and uncomfortable. We met up with some friends and let the boys go talk and meander. I think the boys all came away with good information and some ideas to dive into. At one point, one of my children decided he'd like a school with a culinary arts program and a rifle team. *insert long, uncomfortable pause, here* (Z says it sounds like he's fixing to be a cook in the Navy.) We talked a bit later (because let's face it, that sounds like an odd combination - I thought perhaps I might be missing something), and it turns out he had just panicked. It happens. His brother, our science/technology/programming/all-things-automated Spock child, once told the head of the computer science department that he was going to major in Psychology. When asked later, he said, "I don't know. I panicked." It's good to get it out now, instead of later, when you're filing paperwork.
And then we've gone and gone and gone. Game day and ballet and ballroom and ballet and so. much. driving. Em was scandalized when she heard me tell Jacob the other night that he needed to find a girlfriend with a driver's license. (She thinks it's funny when Z says absurd things, but from me, she expects reason and Good Advice. I may have done something wrong, here.)
Jacob's entire educational plan is on hold for two or three weeks while he spools up on his new schedule. Blessedly, he's a reader, so he's still plugging along with books. That makes me hyperventilate a little less. And his posture is already improving, which is like having two months of physical therapy thrown in as an added bonus. Other than that, though, he pretty much eats and sleeps. Growing is hard work. He's doing a fine job.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
The college fair was interesting. There were about 30 schools there, and just enough students to keep them busy, but not so many that it became automated and uncomfortable. We met up with some friends and let the boys go talk and meander. I think the boys all came away with good information and some ideas to dive into. At one point, one of my children decided he'd like a school with a culinary arts program and a rifle team. *insert long, uncomfortable pause, here* (Z says it sounds like he's fixing to be a cook in the Navy.) We talked a bit later (because let's face it, that sounds like an odd combination - I thought perhaps I might be missing something), and it turns out he had just panicked. It happens. His brother, our science/technology/programming/all-things-automated Spock child, once told the head of the computer science department that he was going to major in Psychology. When asked later, he said, "I don't know. I panicked." It's good to get it out now, instead of later, when you're filing paperwork.
And then we've gone and gone and gone. Game day and ballet and ballroom and ballet and so. much. driving. Em was scandalized when she heard me tell Jacob the other night that he needed to find a girlfriend with a driver's license. (She thinks it's funny when Z says absurd things, but from me, she expects reason and Good Advice. I may have done something wrong, here.)
Jacob's entire educational plan is on hold for two or three weeks while he spools up on his new schedule. Blessedly, he's a reader, so he's still plugging along with books. That makes me hyperventilate a little less. And his posture is already improving, which is like having two months of physical therapy thrown in as an added bonus. Other than that, though, he pretty much eats and sleeps. Growing is hard work. He's doing a fine job.
Be encouraged!
~ Dy
Wednesday, January 18
College Fairs and Do Overs
There's a college fair in town today. John and I are going to go check it out. We went two years ago, but he was a Freshman that year. (We went for James, and John got to hang out with his buddy, who was a Junior. I'm pretty sure the parents got the most out of that one, just by standing back and observing.) I am, however, hopeful that this year he'll get more out of it, and maybe get excited about visiting schools.
I really hope I'm doing this right. You want your children to be happy. You want them to challenge themselves. You want them to have a life filled with good work and strong connections. You want them to be all they can be (in the Army, or in civilian life - although kudos to the Army's marketing team for absolutely owning a phrase for all eternity. Well played, my friends. Well played.)
But where's the line between pushing them too hard and, say, encouraging them to punt? How do you nurture their passions without neglecting Something Really Important That You Didn't Think About? And how do you make sure you're not squashing their inner momentum with what you perceive to be Good Advice? What's the best way to encourage-but-not-badger? And do they need to be badgered sometimes? And how big of a badger do you need to use?
Sadly, these are just variations on the same questions I've been asking for 18 years. I'm no closer to the answers. (Although during one conversation, one of the kids did say, "Sometimes, I need to be nagged. I'm sorry, but it's true." So, yay for honesty?) All I have are some moderately successful ideas, some "Yeah, never do that" ideas (and, of course, the caveat there is "never do that for that particular child", because the next child may very well respond quite well to whatever broke the previous one). The learning curve is steep and... curvy.
But then, James and I were talking about do-overs the other day. He's got a few he'd like to take. I've got a few (or... more than a few...) I'd like to take. He asked some pretty direct questions about what kind of do-overs I had in mind if I could go back and try again with him. (There was definitely a kind of, "Whoa, whoa, whoa there. What kind of craziness might I have dodged?" feel to the line of questioning. It made me laugh.) Turns out, he liked his childhood. He appreciates his education. He loves his life. He encouraged me to just leave it alone if I do get the chance to go back and change things.
To be truthful, I probably wouldn't leave it alone. I would be gentler when I was tired. I would spend more time doing art and making messes. I would be far less fearful. I would be more fun. I would heed Good Advice when it was handed to me. But don't tell him that, please. He's happy, and I'm so, so glad.
Be encouraged!
~Dy
I really hope I'm doing this right. You want your children to be happy. You want them to challenge themselves. You want them to have a life filled with good work and strong connections. You want them to be all they can be (in the Army, or in civilian life - although kudos to the Army's marketing team for absolutely owning a phrase for all eternity. Well played, my friends. Well played.)
But where's the line between pushing them too hard and, say, encouraging them to punt? How do you nurture their passions without neglecting Something Really Important That You Didn't Think About? And how do you make sure you're not squashing their inner momentum with what you perceive to be Good Advice? What's the best way to encourage-but-not-badger? And do they need to be badgered sometimes? And how big of a badger do you need to use?
Sadly, these are just variations on the same questions I've been asking for 18 years. I'm no closer to the answers. (Although during one conversation, one of the kids did say, "Sometimes, I need to be nagged. I'm sorry, but it's true." So, yay for honesty?) All I have are some moderately successful ideas, some "Yeah, never do that" ideas (and, of course, the caveat there is "never do that for that particular child", because the next child may very well respond quite well to whatever broke the previous one). The learning curve is steep and... curvy.
But then, James and I were talking about do-overs the other day. He's got a few he'd like to take. I've got a few (or... more than a few...) I'd like to take. He asked some pretty direct questions about what kind of do-overs I had in mind if I could go back and try again with him. (There was definitely a kind of, "Whoa, whoa, whoa there. What kind of craziness might I have dodged?" feel to the line of questioning. It made me laugh.) Turns out, he liked his childhood. He appreciates his education. He loves his life. He encouraged me to just leave it alone if I do get the chance to go back and change things.
To be truthful, I probably wouldn't leave it alone. I would be gentler when I was tired. I would spend more time doing art and making messes. I would be far less fearful. I would be more fun. I would heed Good Advice when it was handed to me. But don't tell him that, please. He's happy, and I'm so, so glad.
Be encouraged!
~Dy
Tuesday, January 17
Mrmmpfh
So, early morning ballet class is a bad idea. Should've seen that coming. But I got a few miles in before the rain came, and Jacob had a good class. Plus, there is joy in Alabama, now. I present to you:
YES! We now have Circle K. More importantly, we now have Circle K coffee.
The other day, we were cruising down the Parkway and I saw there'd been changes to the Kangaroo (a local convenience store/gas station chain). I saw the sign. I saw the circle. My mind, however, was scrambling to process what this meant. (With many stores being fairly regional, you grow accustomed to the ones in your area. And to the absence of the ones from other areas.) This beauty hails from Arizona. I haven't seen one in years and years. Cognitively, it was like seeing a Rainbow Foods grocery or a Kings grocery. Or maybe even a Brontosaurus. Here.
*squee*
That was enough to salvage the morning. And perhaps every early morning in town from here on out.
Be encouraged!
~Dy
YES! We now have Circle K. More importantly, we now have Circle K coffee.
The other day, we were cruising down the Parkway and I saw there'd been changes to the Kangaroo (a local convenience store/gas station chain). I saw the sign. I saw the circle. My mind, however, was scrambling to process what this meant. (With many stores being fairly regional, you grow accustomed to the ones in your area. And to the absence of the ones from other areas.) This beauty hails from Arizona. I haven't seen one in years and years. Cognitively, it was like seeing a Rainbow Foods grocery or a Kings grocery. Or maybe even a Brontosaurus. Here.
*squee*
That was enough to salvage the morning. And perhaps every early morning in town from here on out.
Be encouraged!
~Dy
Monday, January 16
The Quiet
While all the teens were out of the house, I had a chance to do a Big Clean. I'm talking buying-organizing-things-and-fresh-kitchen-towels, culling-debris-and-old-socks, get-the-outsides-of-the-windows clean. It was glorious. Having a tidy home might stave off empty nest syndrome for a good six months. I love my kids, and I do miss them when they're gone, but there are just so many of us, with such diverse interests, packed into a tiny home. Serious 21st Century Family in a 19th Century Settlement. I'm thankful, I am. But it's refreshing to me when our home feels *nice* and not just *make do*.
The crane festival was fun. You can tell the kids are accustomed to going places in the off-season, though. They were stunned that the Wildlife Refuge could even hold that many people and still have room for the birds. We lasted about an hour and a half before the kids suggested we go home, craft there, and come back one day when it's quieter. We agreed.
We're late to the game on making slime and thinking putty, but we're making up for it in spades! (So. Much. Glue. Gosh.) I figure we'll hit the hardware store for glue-in-bulk, and once the kids get the hang of it, we'll snag some tins from American Science & Surplus. So, heads up on gifts from the Littles this year.
I haven't heard much from James on his weekend getaway, but he did text me at one point to say that the speakers were good and he felt very rejuvenated.
1, I'm glad he's feeling rested and energized.
2. I'm glad that's something he's attuned to and looking for. Yay.
John and Jake got back from their backpacking, showered, and collapsed. But not before I joyfully pointed to the now-repaired washing machine and suggested they let the wash be cleaning while they went limp. (The 21st Century has a lot going for it.)
Today, we're back at it, full schedule. Zorak is home for the day because today is MLK Day. We will watch Dr. King's speech, and remember that this is why we live the way we live. Judge each man on the strength of his character, not the color of his skin. That dream is not dead. In spite of the reports to the contrary, as I listen to the children I'm fortunate to know, I am encouraged. There are kids out there who get it, who care, and who will make such a difference in this world we all share. Character matters. Encourage it. Cultivate it. Reward it. Let the generations coming up know how very much it matters. We do not give up just because a battle is hard won, right?
Be encouraged!
~Dy
The crane festival was fun. You can tell the kids are accustomed to going places in the off-season, though. They were stunned that the Wildlife Refuge could even hold that many people and still have room for the birds. We lasted about an hour and a half before the kids suggested we go home, craft there, and come back one day when it's quieter. We agreed.
We're late to the game on making slime and thinking putty, but we're making up for it in spades! (So. Much. Glue. Gosh.) I figure we'll hit the hardware store for glue-in-bulk, and once the kids get the hang of it, we'll snag some tins from American Science & Surplus. So, heads up on gifts from the Littles this year.
I haven't heard much from James on his weekend getaway, but he did text me at one point to say that the speakers were good and he felt very rejuvenated.
1, I'm glad he's feeling rested and energized.
2. I'm glad that's something he's attuned to and looking for. Yay.
John and Jake got back from their backpacking, showered, and collapsed. But not before I joyfully pointed to the now-repaired washing machine and suggested they let the wash be cleaning while they went limp. (The 21st Century has a lot going for it.)
Today, we're back at it, full schedule. Zorak is home for the day because today is MLK Day. We will watch Dr. King's speech, and remember that this is why we live the way we live. Judge each man on the strength of his character, not the color of his skin. That dream is not dead. In spite of the reports to the contrary, as I listen to the children I'm fortunate to know, I am encouraged. There are kids out there who get it, who care, and who will make such a difference in this world we all share. Character matters. Encourage it. Cultivate it. Reward it. Let the generations coming up know how very much it matters. We do not give up just because a battle is hard won, right?
Be encouraged!
~Dy
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