Birthday Party Angst

Well, I’ve survived another birthday party. I think that throwing kids’ parties is one of my least favorite parts of parenting. It’s not the noise and the mess, I just find it hard to have a big group of kids here, with several kids I don’t really know and the bar set so high. If we just have a large dinner party, there will be lots of kids here but I just feel the need to feed them and keep them safe—it’s okay for me if it’s not the event of the year for them, I just want to hang out with their parents. But, for a birthday party, of course I want the day to be very special for my child. And I have to accomplish this with all my son’s preferences—he wants the party at home (in December), a dessert other than cake (my son doesn’t like cake), no organized games, and I have to hope that what takes place will appeal to all the kids so that everyone has a good time.

This year, I came up with the idea to make a fire in the fire pit in the yard and have the kids make s’mores. But we didn’t start that right away. They were to have pizza first, and before that was “free play” upstairs while everyone was arriving and pizza was baking. Well, for the first 15 minutes all we could hear was wild, over-exuberant yelling and jumping. Almost instantly my younger son was crying as a result of a rough tackle, and one of the party-goers came to me with a bloody nose. Fortunately it wasn’t a bad one. Thoughts of Martinis floated through my head as I looked at the clock and saw we had one hour and 45 minutes to go. Fortunately, the pizza was done. Food calmed them, and then I sent the children into the yard where we set them up with sticks and marshmallows. And it was… a hit! Thank God! Every child loved it. The fire! The s’mores! More fire! When we ran out of marshmallows the children just wanted to burn things and my husband carefully cut sticks into small bits and let the kids toss them into the fire. This lasted quite a while, and they played outside, despite the cold, for most of the party. Then they started trickling back in. We sang happy birthday and had more dessert and they entertained themselves by blowing up balloons until their parents showed up.

My son was delighted and only sad that the party had to end, and I felt like we successfully made it through another kid birthday party. That was Saturday, and I am still tired today, Wednesday. I just get emotionally drained throwing those kinds of events. Why do I get so wrapped around the axle about a child’s birthday party? Even the glass of wine after the party didn’t quite cut it. At the moment at least I am thankful that I don’t have to organize another one of these events until next October, when Hugo turns 6. Maybe, if I’m lucky, he’ll just want a nice, quiet family dinner. But, I’m not counting on it.

I Guess I’m Just a Wimp

I have always loved fall. The chill in the air, things seasoned with nutmeg and cinnamon and a warm palette of browns, golds, reds and oranges completely appeal to me. But, the start of school and shortening days also marks the beginning of a marathon for me that each year I vow to have an easier time with…and just never figure out how. Fall happens to be the busiest travel time in the year for my husband which means I generally have to manage all the fall holidays and fall birthdays (we have 3 in our family) all by myself. Once I get the kids suited up for school with backpacks and pencils and pants that cover their ankles, I have to start planning Hugo’s October 21 birthday. Luckily, Jim was home for 36 hours, just long enough to attend the party I’d planned and have the family dinner before he flew out again at 6am on Sunday. I managed to clear away wrapping paper and get the new toys organized before I dug out the Halloween decorations to make the house nice and festive for Halloween, which was now just 9 days away. Of course I’d started the costumes already, but now that the birthday party was over it was time to devote my attention to them. Nevermind that I was already a touch burned out as a result of not just throwing our own party for my son but my son’s preschool, knowing it was Hugo’s birthday, had me bring in cupcakes on the big day along with: a poster about Hugo, a show n tell item, and a bucket filled with things that begin with the letter “T”. Don’t they know I have enough to do? Not only that, his school schedules field trips and parties, it seems, constantly, so that even though I pay good money for my 7.5 hours of freedom per week they always seem to find some reason I need to be there or join them on some outing, completely removing my “free time” during which I bake all those cupcakes and hang all those decorations.

Hugo’s birthday having been fully celebrated, both boys in one week had parties at school and parents were invited and encouraged to bring food. So, even though my free time was once again taken up with the festivities, I prepared yet more treats to bring into their classrooms so they can feel adequately loved. I watched them both, separately, frost and decorate cookies and play games like “hot potato” but with a twist so the game became “hot pumpkin.” Wasn’t I tortured with this stuff enough as a child?

I finished the costumes today and Halloween is tomorrow. Weather permitting we will have soccer games in the morning and trick or treating at night. I love seeing the kids dressed up and think it’s a fun holiday, but can anyone blame me if just a little part of me can’t wait until it’s over? And, it will be good to stop focusing on the holiday since we should really spend some time Sunday helping Jasper with his science fair project and Hugo with his coat of arms for school (yes, he’s just in preschool, but he, oops, I mean we, get an awful lot of homework).

I can’t believe that even though my kids are only 5 and almost 8 years old, I already long for the simple life when there were so few obligations on their behalf. Schools now are out of control, I think, with all the parties and forms and just so much parental involvement. I feel pulled into a million directions. And sometimes, I feel like I have no life.
I reflect on me a little bit. I used to be pretty interesting, I think, but now there’s so little of me that gets to be me. And there’s so much I want to do. Some of what I want to do is dull, like paint the bedroom and organize the overflow room on the 3rd floor. Some of what I want to do is use my degrees and my brain and my skills. Some of what I want to do is spend an entire weekend going to musuems that do not have dinosaur bones or rocket ships in them or hiking trails longer than 1 mile. I could throw a night of dancing in there.

So here I am bitching and it’s not even Thanksgiving yet, and there will be plenty to do for that. I am already giving thought to Jasper’s December 12 birthday party, especially because one of his good friends planned his birthday party to take place that same day, which is causing a bit of stress around here. Somehow, we will celebrate his birthday, and then Jim’s on December 19, and somehow I will decorate for Christmas and bake cookies and plan meals, and I will do all this while Jim is in California or Washington or Texas or Michigan and then he will come home and Santa, a.k.a mommy, will come and make everyone feel loved and spoiled once again.

I’d like to start a movement to move some holidays around. Why can’t we celebrate Thanksgiving in April? We all know Christmas 25 has nothing to do with Jesus’ birth, why not celebrate Christmas in March or May? I can’t do much about my kids’ birthdays, but I could really use a breather this time of year. It’s just too much. And I know Martha Stewart would be shocked to read all this, but I guess I’m just a wimp.

Nothing To Do

We recently took a family vacation to a place we’ve been dying to go for years, so you might think we were put out the by the unseasonably cold temperatures and incessant rain. No so. Being in a home setting with nothing to do is the perfect formula for relaxation. It’s so nice to be without any desire or need to clean, fill anything out, fix anything, sort anything or without any sense of distraction at all. When I was in the living room I could just focus on being there and thinking about things like whether I should do a puzzle with the kids or read a book. Every now and then maybe I would get up for a drink of water or cup of tea. I was so genuinely relaxed that at 8pm the first full day we were there I fell asleep on the couch. And there I stayed until I moved into the bed and slept as late as I wanted the next morning.
We did get out too. Whenever there was a break in the weather—even if it just became a light rain—we hiked and biked. There were few people around and a lot of wildlife. Even our youngest biked for several miles, hiked for miles on top of that and climbed to the top of the lighthouse. Then it would rain again and it was time for more books and art projects.
I haven’t felt that well-rested and generally at peace with the world in months. It was such a simple trip: fresh air and exercise, family time, quiet activities and simple meals, and a real reminder of how little we all need.
Once we returned I vowed to lighten up our load here at home. I’ve made a clandestine trip to Goodwill (the kids get upset no matter what leaves the house) and am also trying to pare activities down to what REALLY needs to be on the schedule. Life gets busy and hectic, but I keep looking back to that trip as a reminder that it doesn’t always need to be.

At Least I’ll Be Able to Play the Damn Fiddle

I’ve obviously taken a little hiatus from writing and can honestly say that I’ve been suffering from a case of the blahs. Though there are various external circumstances that have been contributing to the blah feelings, I’m wondering if my sadness stems from something deeper. After reading a bit in a book my friend Katharine bought me called, “I Was a Great Mother Before I Had Kids,” I wonder if I’m not suffering as a result of simply not being able to be perfect.

I know that sounds ridiculous, but I really think it’s true that in modern-day parenting, that is this vague, unattainable goal that we subconsciously actually think we can achieve, which of course sets us up for terrible disappointment and failure. Where does this idea come from in the first place? Before we become parents many of us do think about the kind of parents we will be. I know that I consciously thought that I would be able to produce the most well-adjusted, well-rounded, kind kids the world has ever seen based on my marvelous parenting skills. I thought that if my husband and I could introduce things in positive ways and engage happily in various activities, that my children would not see anything in life as a chore and would be thrilled to try everything. Folding laundry is fun! Being nice to my brother is great! I love all sports! I can’t wait to take music lessons! I want to potty train! I want to try new foods! I just can’t wait to read! Of course I’d love ice skating lessons! I like the process of learning things and always give my best effort! I feel very comfortable shaking hands with grown men at age five! And the list goes on. And the list is absurd. And sadly, I must admit, I really, really believed deep down that this would all be true. Despite how unaware I was that this was the case. I never would have admitted that and would have said that it’s just important to accept the child as he is, that kids are all different, and it’s important to celebrate their unique qualities.

So, you might see where this is going. Kind of looks like a train wreck. Fast-forward a few years and I’m looking at two boys going on age 8 and age 5 respectively. I’ve learned a few lessons along the way. For example, when a child seems to walk to the beat of his own drummer and not be concerned with the mainstream, no amount of Star Wars and Speed Racer videos, Pokemon cards and other trendy toys will make any difference whatsoever. And I’m ashamed to admit it, but I brought these things home. What mother in her right mind says, “honey, why don’t we turn off that educational science video and put in Star Wars?” or, “Oh, I’m glad you’re enjoying that book. I see some boys your age playing with Pokemon cards, would you like some?” I have dragged home videos, sports equipment, tacky and poorly made plastic theme toys based on cartoon characters that are directly marketed at kids during commercials and are the bane of many parents’ existences, in the hope that my older son would suddenly see the light and start demanding this crap regularly and maybe fit in better with the kids at school. However, to this day, the only two purchases he has made with his own allowance money are an Audubon field guide to wild mushrooms and a Swiss Army knife. My younger son, however, likes all the gadgets I bring home and plays with them until they break. But then, he too loses interest. Star Wars had a life span of about 4 months in our house. It’s all but forgotten now. And I’ve learned that no amount of totally fun socializing events will turn a moody introvert into an extrovert.

I guess part of me wants to make sure that I’m not DENYING my children the stuff that will help them fit in. It’s very likely that I’m looking at my kids through a veil of my own insecurities. I think they’ll be great at something I’m not because I’m giving them the opportunity to try something early. I want them to fit in and feel “normal” the way I never really did. I worry that my husband and I somehow gave them inferior genes since we have two boys and neither my husband nor I are great athletes. I ache when my 7-year olds says, “I’m not really a fast runner.” Aaack, my husband and I are not fast runners, how could we even THINK of having kids? Then he says,  “and sometimes when I run I get stitches in my side.” I gasp again because I always got stitches in MY side as a kid. How could I do this to my poor little boy?

Despite all this pain and my personal realizations about how crazy I guess I really am, there seems to be a glimmer of light shining. After all these years of giving—of cooking and cleaning and cutting toenails and arranging play dates and filling out forms and picking preschools and arranging lessons and bringing home toys and books and giving pep talks, I asked for fiddle lessons for my 40^th birthday. For me. Why? Because I have always absolutely loved the instrument, but was too afraid to try. But I decided that if I do try, I may have 40 years or so to enjoy playing, and there is no time like the present. I’m enjoying the lessons. I think the instrument fits me (it’s small). It’s a relief to think that I’m doing something for me. I’ve done freelance work over the years and have found some time to paint, but painting takes a long time with set up and clean up. I can practice fiddle for 5 minutes at a time, so it’s perfect for now when I have so little free time.

I’m enjoying my Monday night fiddle lesson enough to not be willing to enroll the kids in an activity on the same night for fear I’d have to give the lessons up. If my husband has to travel for work, I plan to drag the kids to the half hour lesson with me. Dinner may not be so spectacular on those nights. But I’m thinking that ironically this may be one of the greater gifts I can give them. It will give them a chance to see that I respect myself enough to do something just for me. It will also give them both a chance to see someone go through the process of learning something new, being bad at first, working at it, and slowly improving. These won’t be lessons I will lecture them with, they will just learn by watching, if they choose to. And maybe they won’t notice it or think about it now, but it will inspire them to try new things and not be afraid of failure when they’re older. Or, maybe it won’t. But whether or not they love tennis or always remember to say “please and thank you,” at least I’ll be able to play the damn fiddle.

And To the Right You Will Find the Orgy Room

I had one of those rough playground moments recently with another parent. The dad I was talking to mentioned that he’d caved and was purchasing a Wii for his son for his 7^th birthday. They’d planned to wait until he was eight, but decided they just couldn’t because this boy was the last in his circle of friends to get a Wii. Apparently all the play dates with his friends were disintegrating into brawls because his son wasn’t familiar with the games and so the other boys would snatch the controls from his hands out of frustration. So, now he will have his Wii and everything will be fine, or so this dad thinks. He didn’t seem to notice the color draining from my face. I mean, I have a 7-year old boy, and we don’t have a Wii. Since how I feel, as my husband puts it, “can blow with the wind,” I couldn’t think of anything to say. I just thought to myself, “my God, should we get a Wii?” I moved across the playground and found a good friend who does not blow with the wind like I do and recounted the conversation. She, very astutely, stated that that could happen with anything, even a game of Monopoly. Not every kid will have the same games, so that’s what’s nice about playing at someone else’s house, you get to play with different things. And my friend made another good point that if these play dates are deteriorating so badly, why aren’t the parents stepping in to say that if they can’t take turns, help their friends learn and play fairly that the Wii will get taken away? Good points I thought. Whew, I felt better.

I’ve heard other parents tell stories about how they started buying all kinds of video games, bigger TVs, etc. because otherwise no kids would come to their house to play. It all makes sense, sort of. But although I want lots of kids to feel welcome in my house, I don’t want a bunch of kids sitting around staring at a video screen, I just don’t. We live in a mild climate and can go outside almost year-round. Our town is filled with parks. The kids sit in school all day. After school, as far as I’m concerned, is time for running around in the fresh air until it’s time to go home and do homework, eat dinner and read before bed. I put in a video for the kids sometimes while I make dinner. I don’t have anything against video watching, really, we just don’t have much time allotted to do it. When the kids have friends over to play that is decidedly NOT a video-watching time because, well, they have friends to play with! And they do play, I’m always impressed by the creativity. So, I think, why spoil it?

And, I think, do I want my friends coming to my house because they like my STUFF or because they like ME? I choose my friends carefully over time, so, generally when someone comes over we’re pretty happy sitting down with tea or wine and having a chat. But what if I went to the same lengths some parents seem willing to go to with their kids to attract friends? What would I do to make my house “cool” so people would accept me and want to come over? Would people like me more if I greeted them at the door and said, “we have an open bar, please help yourself, we have nothing but top shelf liquor. In this room you’ll find a theater with the latest movies playing and down the hall is our indoor pool and hot tub.” What if these measures didn’t work? What if that wasn’t enough? What lengths would I go to to make people want to come over? “Oh yes, please come in! To the left you’ll find the sushi bar and to the right you will find the orgy room. You can have sex with whomever you wish.”

I have nothing against Wiis (and I think an indoor pool would be great). But they are expensive, and money like that spent on entertainment is an investment in my household. Our kids so far have not seemed interested in having one, but I’d hate to think that their chances for friendship and social acceptance in the community are compromised because we don’t have the right “stuff.” I don’t admire a keeping up with the Joneses mind-set, and in fact have never cared much for what the Joneses are doing. However, when cast in the light of possibly having one’s child ostracized, my foundation of values starts to feel a little crumbly (remember I blow in the wind)?

For now, failing play dates seems to be a problem for the son of the man on the playground, not mine. And whether or not the Wii will fix things, I don’t know, but I will guess that before too long the kids will grow tired of the Wii and all those parents will need to run out and get the next, better entertainment system. And I guess they will. Maybe my kids will stick with the “fresh air and lego kids” or maybe they will pester us mercilessly one day for some kind of trendy and expensive toy and we will decide to get them one because it seems like the right solution at the time. But I do dread that day if it comes.

I’m Done With Happy

A popular refrain we hear often is, “I just want my kids to be happy.” This sentiment is so commonplace most of us don’t question it anymore. We have all heard more than enough about how parenting these days is too focused on pumping up our kids’ self-esteem so they feel so great about themselves all the time that they never know any emotion other than happy. And so our children are flooded with meaningless awards and praise. They grow up to the steady mantra of “good job,” or “nice work,” or “gosh, you’re smart!” It seems that all kids have to do is show up for an activity and they are handed a medal. My observations are not on par with scientific study, but I don’t think my kids are one bit happier having acquired those trinkets than they would have been without them. My 7-year old has been aware of how devoid they are of meaning for some time, “oh, everyone gets one of those.” Imagine how Oscar night would seem if everyone went home with the coveted statue?

I think, that on the whole, I would consider myself happy. But, at any given moment on any given day I may feel: frustrated, tired, content, stressed, irritable, silly, extremely happy, sad, calm, worried, blessed, and I’m sure there are a few other emotions I’m missing in there. The emotions are often a response to what’s happening such as discovering a leaking roof, spending time with great friends, hearing sad news about friends or family, looking at old photos, finishing a project, running late to pick up a kid from school, being handed a home-made card, and the list goes on and on and on. And I think, that’s normal, right? A RANGE of emotions is a normal part of the human experience. Whether or not one can say they’re happy at the end of the day is a result of how they respond to and deal with any of the infinite things that come up in daily life. Once basic needs are met I think some fundamentals of happiness are having the ability to form and maintain healthy relationships, an ability to bounce back from disappointments and solve problems, an ability to find joy in small things, an ability to make good decisions, and setting and meeting goals. I don’t actually think a drawer full of medals and a lifetime of hearing false praise will contribute to happiness.

And so, I’m done with happy. I really, really hope my kids will grow into content, positive people who will be very familiar with the happy emotion during their lives. But I don’t think shielding them from negative experiences and flooding them with praise will help. After all, picnics do get rained out. And what I really want are polite, resilient kids who understand the importance of kindness. I hope they develop healthy ways to handle disappointments, and I do hope things often go their way. But what I really need is for them to pitch in and do chores, and I don’t much care if that makes them “happy” or not. On a day-to-day basis they need to know that some things have to happen before you can do the thing you want to do. Some days are exciting and fun, but some are dull. You get some things you want, but don’t get others. Some people are nice, and some are mean. The world is, at many times and places, a very bad place. Bad and unexpected things happen, and injustice is everywhere. It can be beautiful too, but we have to take the whole package.

One of the truly happiest moments I had recently was when we had a gorgeous break in our cold, rainy, spring weather. It was sunny and warm and the Dogwoods and Azaleas were in full bloom everywhere. Bunnies were hopping around (really). I had a break and went for a run. It felt so good to be out running on such an incredibly beautiful day. My heart truly felt light and the air smelled great. It was a wonderful moment. I realized that that moment could have been enjoyed by anyone who had the good fortune to go out just then, as long as they were willing to focus on the here and now for just a few minutes. That’s what a I want for my kids—that no matter what happens during their lives, no matter what kinds of ups and downs and successes and failures they experience, that they can find peaceful moments of true elation and well-being that have nothing to do with external praise.

Spring, and New Beginnings

The crocus are all open in our neighborhood, and there are tiny green leaves on all the Willow trees. I love this time of year. Winter here isn’t really that long or harsh, but it’s gray, and such a dull palette really gets to you after a while. Snow would help, because a blanket of fresh white can make an otherwise drab winter day look dazzling, but we don’t have that very often. By March, we are ready for green. And we gladly take the yellow, purple and magenta that come with the crocus and forsythia, with the promise of more colors to come.

Spring arriving this year feels like last spring, but, as happens every season, I notice how much the kids have changed since the same time last year. We celebrated the very first warm weekend day with a bike ride, and no one was in a bike trailer! With everyone able to power themselves along the trail, we noticed how all our family outings have changed slowly over time and will continue to change. We no longer carry diaper bags or time excursions around naps. We no longer hike with a 30-pound child in a backpack. And now, with everyone capable of pedaling their own bicycles, there is a tremendous sense of freedom and hope for more ambitious adventures to come.

Last weekend we also made a new joyous discovery. Along with the green peeking out on the landscape and the lovely bike trip, we have found that are boys are now big enough to be a source of labor! Who knew? Jim and I went through piles of old books last weekend and found many that we don’t want anymore. We piled the out-of-date guidebooks next to the novels we never liked and left several large stacks on the top of the third floor landing. Then we ignored the pile because neither of us could find the time to transfer all the books downstairs where we could figure out what to do with them.

The books caused me stress every time I walked by them and wondered how long they would be there. Then Jim had an epiphany. “Hey boys,” he said. “We’ll give you two dollars each if you carry all these books downstairs.” They were thrilled! They made about eight trips each, lugging book after book down two flights of stairs. They were ecstatic about their hard-earned money. The next day Jim handed the boys shovels and they very willingly went to dig holes in the yard and help plant raspberry and blackberry bushes. What was truly remarkable about these two events was that the boys were actually helpful. The work they did really contributed something. It was also remarkable that they didn’t complain, although I imagine the novelty of realizing they could be helpful will wear off and they won’t always be such eager beavers.

I miss having babies now that I don’t have one anymore. I risk throwing my back out every time I lift Hugo. But, as sure as the seasons come and go, kids grow up and change. With the prospect of spring and new beginnings upon us, I am embracing this new phase of parenthood, with two boys that are truly family participants now. 

Got Control?

It’s been a disappointing couple of weeks. First, there is just that winter gloom that appears in February in Maryland: weather with a tendency towards the raw and bitter, without a hint of the snowy winter-wonderland that can redeem the darkest months of the year. The gloom around here has been compounded by Jasper’s pneumonia, which finally released its grip two days ago and Jasper went back to school and felt well for the first time after 11 days. My image of the last few days of near-quarantine are of Jasper diligently carrying around a box of tissues, of which he has become a connoisseur (he prefers Kleenex; Puffs are too “creamy” and the generics too rough), and a plastic bag to deposit the contaminated ones in to keep them off the floor. His nose and cheeks were bright red from all the wiping and nose blowing, and are just starting to heal.

I find sickness so hard to deal with. Of course I feel so sad for my sick child. But I have selfish concerns too. If my child is sick, I don’t get to see anyone either. I have to put aside my plans and projects because suddenly any free time I thought I would have dries up. It’s hard playing nursemaid for days on end. And canceling all the plans is distressing. At age 7, Jasper knows just what he’s missing. The play dates get canceled, he missed the Valentine’s Day party at school and the 100^th day of school celebration. He missed his art class, and a play we were planning to go with friends. And we all missed a ski trip. The kids had been watching snowboarding, skiing, and “extreme jumping” videos on the web in preparation and couldn’t wait to try to slide down some little hills at our local ski slopes. No matter how much medicine and soup I fed Jasper, no matter how many times I took his temperature and had him nap, I just couldn’t make him get better. Perhaps the most disappointing aspect to the missed people and plans is the fact that dear friends of ours are leaving for Zambia on Monday and won’t return until the end of May. I couldn’t see them or help them at all with packing or childcare, and the kids couldn’t play together. We did finally get to see them today for a little while to say goodbye, but since I couldn’t be part of the process of seeing them off, it’s a little surreal to know now that I won’t have another opportunity to see them until we welcome them home in three months.

I can maturely and rationally realize that with all the grief and horror in the world, a sick child who will get better is nothing to complain about. But it’s not just the missed events that frustrate me. My job is to keep the family on a schedule and I essentially plan our lives. I make the doctors appointments, schedule the teacher conferences and play dates and dinners with friends. I make sure there’s enough time for homework and food shopping and meal preparation. I plan the date nights and visits with grandma and grandpa. I get the kids to and from school on time, make sure they have enough time to play outside in the fresh air and make sure we get to the library. And when I’m not doing that I have my own projects: volunteer and freelance work, and projects around the house. And when one of the kids gets sick, it all stops. I can’t do my job, or more precisely, my entire job description turns on a dime. I cancel everything that was planned and make new arrangements for trips to the doctor and pharmacy. I become aware that in this phase, my entire life is dictated by illness, and that any control I think I have over what happens is largely an illusion.

The reality of parenting is how little control we have so much of the time. We can’t control what our children like or want to do or how they feel. We can’t control our own schedules because so often a tired or sick child will force us to change our plans. In my case I realize that at times, I just feel helpless.

I remember hearing about a study of Centenarians. The researcher wanted to discover what traits these long-lived people might share. One trait that seemed to appear in person after person was an ability to manage stress and roll with the punches. I don’t think of myself as particularly controlling and still love doing things spontaneously. But as I find myself having less control in my life, I find myself wanting more. For now I am grateful that Jasper is healthy and that life is back to a more predictable pattern. I appreciate that now, at least for a little while, I can once again feel that I have some control. 

Imagination

The other night we had friends to our house for dinner. They brought their two daughters, one of whom had just broken her leg a few days before while skiing. She was sporting an impressive cast on her leg, and was already developing some interesting new ways to get around such as pulling herself upstairs backward. Jasper and Hugo were impressed, and drew pictures and their names on her cast. After dinner, the kids disappeared upstairs and played and let us grown-ups eat in peace. The next morning I went into the upstairs play room to tidy up and noticed that each and every stuffed animal in the boys’ collection had a “cast” on it. The casts were made out of toilet paper and some extra chair stuffing I had lying around, and were secured on the animals with tape. Some of the animals were lying on cushions that had been pulled off the couch that were serving as hospitals beds. Arms and legs were splinted; one polar bear even had his nose wrapped! I just had to laugh.

I love the raw, powerful imaginations that kids have.  I love how those four children could immerse themselves in the same imaginary world and rescue all those poor, ailing animals. I’m sure child psychologists could comment on the compassion and empathy that the children were acting out in that scene.  I think I appreciated that moment even more because in this day and age, so many people are lamenting that children no longer have enough free time to play, and that when they do have free time they just want to watch TV or play video games. I am thrilled to know that in my little corner of the world anyway, the child’s imagination is alive and well!

And We’re Competitive About Cupcakes?

I recently received one of my alumni magazines (about which I’ve written before) and read the following article: http://www.colby.edu/colby.mag/issues/current/features.php?issueid=48&articleid=906

To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what the point was. I think, though, that it was about how these incredibly high-powered women who sound like they chew nails for breakfast wish their husbands would help pack lunches and make kids’ doctors appointments, and then they would have perfect balance in their lives. However, their ideas of parenting (I am paraphrasing here) include taking turns relieving the nanny and taking the 4-year old to school once a month (I’m serious). How can they think they will ever find balance? And they are sad that they will never be able to compete with moms who bake gourmet cupcakes and attend their kids’ sporting events. Whatever. And why do I feel like I will be viewed anti-women because I wrote this? I think of myself as a feminist and think men and women are equal in their abilities. I do think the women mentioned in the article are crazy though. 

I included my response below: 

I was confused by the article “Double Duty” in the winter 2009 issue. Was the point to say that these women would be having an easier time if their husbands took on more domestic responsibilities, or was it a celebration of what these women are achieving in business? I found it depressing. Every educated, two-career couple must make hard decisions when they bring a child in to the world. That child arrives with a 24-hour a day need for care. Two parents with two full-time jobs suddenly have three full-time jobs, one of which comes with strong emotional needs. Every family must decide what will work for all of them as individuals and as a unit and usually both parents need to make sacrifices and compromises.

The careers these high-powered women have chosen typically do not allow time for family, a condition that was at one time reserved for men. If both members of a couple choose these types of careers, then there will never be enough family time, whether the husband does his fair share of laundry and appointment-making or not. I’m not saying the women should not pursue these careers, but I believe that families find more balance when one or both members of the couple put the brakes on their careers for a while when they have kids at home. In choosing to push the careers forward full-throttle at a time when kids need you the most is not taking their needs into consideration. It is a selfish decision, and an imbalance is an inevitable result.

The fact that these women feel they are competing with moms who bake gourmet cupcakes, volunteer at school and attend sporting events is sad. What child cares about gourmet cupcakes? Where people spend their limited time is a reflection of their values, whether it’s at work, the gym, volunteering at the homeless shelter or at the tanning salon. And parents, mothers and fathers, who volunteer at school and attend sporting events, are there because they want to be—they value time with their children. No trophies are handed out, but the families that spend time together benefit by having a strong bond, shared memories, and a connection to their community. Relationships reflect the amount of effort that are put in to them and this is true with colleagues, a spouse, friends and kids, and we all have the difficult decision of deciding where we will put that energy.

I know many women (and men) who are proud to strong models for their children by bucking society’s obsession with status, money and egocentrism, and performing one of the most undervalued jobs in our country: raising our kids.