Category: Family Culture

Everyday Learning Ideas for Every Family

Some time ago, I read an article called “Afterschooling,” written by a mom who was also a teacher. The idea is simple: learning doesn’t stop when the school day ends. Parents can use after-school hours, weekends, and summers to help kids stay sharp, fill in gaps, or stretch further when they’re ready for more. It works whether your child is homeschooled or attends a private or public school, and it’s especially helpful for the child who needs more than the classroom can give.

What interested me was how ordinary the ideas were. Let’s face it, many of us worry whether we’re doing enough and want to feel more confident as we parent. The truth is, just living life as a family every day is a wonderful education, but when you add some cool family activities, learning keeps going and is fun.

Learn in the Car

Listen to audiobooks as you run errands or take trips. I know that seems outdated, but it gets kids off their phones and helps families connect. You’ll be amazed at how many books you can “read” in a year by taking advantage of car time. Don’t worry too much about age-appropriateness if you have kids of different ages. Preschoolers enjoy Ramona the Brave as much as the eight-year-olds, and your twelve-year-old won’t mind The Indian in the Cupboard. Your whole family will listen to classics above grade level, whether they understand every word or not. It becomes normal for your family, and it’s amazing what younger children pick up from the books their older siblings are listening to.

My husband, who is not a reader, began listening to audiobooks at the beginning of the summer because I gave him one. He is hooked and listens while he works on the computer. I know it’s helping his mind, and he seems to really enjoy it. He listened to eight books over the summer. For a non-reader, that is wonderful!

Be brave and introduce more than just fiction. Try some history, music, and science too. Your public library has more options than you might expect, and most libraries now offer audiobooks through free apps.

Read Aloud as a Family

I’ve written many articles on the value of families reading together. I’m sold on it and read with my children, then my grandchildren, and now with Don and my mom. Some families read for thirty minutes after dinner while still sitting at the table, and then everyone helps with the dishes. Other families read first thing in the morning, and others read at bedtime. It doesn’t matter when you read or for how long; pick a time and be consistent. Choose classics, scriptures, or whatever your family loves. Make it a tradition instead of a haphazard occurrence.

Homemade Books

This fun activity can be done weekly or even monthly, just for the joy of it. Little kids love it, but so do older kids. I know from my own experience. My Grandma Gardner, a teacher, had a cupboard stocked with blank books she had put together with paper and staples. When we visited, she would let us pick one or two. I LOVED that part of our visit, and I always wrote in them. It spurred my desire to be a writer.

Go to the store and buy paper and art supplies. Put them in a big box or bag. Staple a stack of blank books together, and let your kids know they can now make their own books! Older kids might experiment with writing a short story like I did, while younger children will do lots of illustrations with fewer words. This activity really sings to kids before or after a holiday, a family birthday, a vacation, etc.

Give your child all the help they need. The child is the author and illustrator, but you are the secretary. Help them construct sentences when they ask, and guide them toward sentences they can read themselves. Keep these books in a special place to read to grandparents, younger siblings, and during quiet times.

Start the Day with a Morning Message

Write a daily message on a little whiteboard while your kids eat breakfast. It’s a great way to sneak in reading, writing, and punctuation, and it gives everyone something to smile about before they head out the door. My daughter did this with her children for many years, and they enjoyed it. It waned a bit as they hit their teens, but they still have one of those messages on the hall wall all these years later.

Take a DEAR Time Break (Drop Everything And Read)

I loved this idea that I found on a mom blog. The more words on a page your child is exposed to and tries to read on their own, the stronger their reading tends to be. So, give your children a chance to look at books and read by themselves. If your home gets out of sorts, someone is bored or can’t figure out what to do, or an argument erupts, send them to DEAR Time.

Set up a cozy reading corner somewhere in your house and stock it with a box or basket of books at an easy reading level for your child/children. You could even let them munch on crackers or other snacks while they read. Set the timer for ten minutes and slowly build up.

This can also substitute for a time out. I know because one of my daughters used it.

Use Screens with Parameters

Some parents root for the computer, and others don’t want their kids anywhere near it. You decide what works for you. Many free programs, apps, and websites make learning fun. Look for quality, where the child does the learning, and the designer isn’t having all the fun. The same goes for TV. When used sparingly and well, it can be a good friend, and there is plenty of educational content out there. Whatever you choose, set parameters you are comfortable with, and then be consistent.

For my granddaughter Maggie, who can’t speak and has limited hand movement, her iPad is her best friend. She has chosen many of her own learning sites. Even though she can’t speak, I know she understands Spanish because so many of the sites she chooses are in Spanish. Her iPad helps her learn.

When my grandson Ben, who is now 14, was between six and eleven, he spent a lot of time on his iPad and the computer. Guess what he was doing. Learning! He loved it and could give you facts on all kinds of subjects because that’s what he spent his time engaging with.

So don’t be afraid of computers, iPads, and TV. Set parameters you are comfortable with, and let kids learn.

A Fun Family Tool For Any Time of Day

A Spark Station is an amazing tool. Imagine doing science, history, art, or family stories together just for fun. It’s a wonderful way to gather as a family at the end of a busy day. It is also perfect for a bored child or when you need to help the chaos settle during a busy day. Check out the directions and learn how to create this magical tool.

There are many ways to help your children use time wisely, learn, and still be kids and teens, without nagging or cajoling.

Be creative, keep it simple, and have fun.

Five Principles of Power Series – The Wizard of Oz Moment

When my youngest daughter was getting married, we went announcement shopping. Shopping is not on my list of enjoyable activities! We stopped at a couple of places, choked on prices, and then found the perfect thing. It was way out of our budget, but being crafty, we can do anything, sort of women, we decided we could recreate it ourselves.

We headed to my sister’s home for a second opinion. She felt we were right on; we could certainly duplicate those invitations ourselves. We then spent a good hour measuring, talking paper, and looking at photos. It was fun, and I enjoyed the time with my youngest daughter.

While we were talking about photos, my sister mentioned she thought people looked better in black and white photos. An animated conversation took place over her comment. Then she said a profound thing. “Maybe black and white makes people look better because we are so used to seeing them in color.” Wow!

That got me thinking about when we were kids. All our photos were black and white. I was well into grade school before any of my photos were in color. I said, “Do you remember the first time we saw ourselves in color? Remember how we thought we looked so much better?” Isn’t it interesting that what is unfamiliar can be more appealing at times than what we see every day? You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?

As we were leaving, my sister said, “Mary, do you remember The Wizard of Oz? Do you remember that the movie was in black and white at the beginning, and then there was the magical moment when color burst onto the screen? Wasn’t that astonishing?” I could clearly recall that experience. I remembered how the breath was knocked out of me from sheer amazement. I was stunned. It was so beautiful. I hadn’t even realized how drab it was before because I was used to seeing movies in black and white. It was unexpected. I just assumed that the whole movie would be black and white.

From Black and White to Color

That’s what happens when you create a family activity, a learning moment, or a special space for your children, and it’s filled with color, new things, and excitement. That’s what happens when parents are present and participate. That’s what it’s like when you set aside family time and honor it with consistency. It literally takes your children’s breath away. It turns family time from black and white to color.

I’ve experienced this with my grands, and I’ve watched it happen in other families too. Creating an environment like this changes a family’s experience together.

This is Principle Three from The Five Principles of Power: Make It Special. Consistency makes family activities and learning special. Being present while you do them makes them magical.

Thoughtfully plan your family activities so they go from black and white to bursting with color, and your family will engage and stay engaged.

Practicing Calm — Holding the Chaos A Series: Part 5

Long ago, after a day that started at 7:00 in the morning and didn’t end until 1:30 a.m. the next day, my daughter, Jodie, said, “Mom, it’s probably a real blessing that you have the grandkids so much. It gives you lots of material for your writing.” LOL

We were preparing to teach a room full of sixth graders how to make gingerbread houses out of graham crackers. It took over ten hours of preparation. It was a gift to the kids for a fundraiser they’d put together to help with my granddaughter Maggie’s therapy.

However, a big project doesn’t pause the rest of life. Maggie still needed her therapy session that day. The other grandchildren needed care. Meals had to be cooked. After a mentoring session with a family I was helping, Jodie and her kids arrived around noon. We began cutting crackers and bagging candy, while fielding questions, settling squabbles, keeping the littlest one out of the tree in the yard, getting drinks, nursing a baby, changing diapers, etc. You know how it goes.

After several hours of work, Jodie left to take Maggie to her therapy appointment. I kept going. When the therapy session ended, Jodie came back, and we worked together for a while longer, since she had an evening planned with friends, a plan made before the gingerbread project came up. When it was time, Jodie left for her party, and the grandchildren stayed the night with Don and me. He helped me cut cardboard bases, and once we’d stopped to feed everyone, he kept the kids occupied so I could keep working. At 6:00 p.m., I was still cutting crackers.

The Edge

By 8:00, our nursing granddaughter was at the end of her rope. She would crawl into the kitchen and pull herself up on the backs of my legs, then tumble down when I moved to catch her, which hurt her feelings every time, and she would cry. Our grandson was riding an adrenaline wave, wild the way kids get when it’s time for bed and they’re exhausted but refuse to admit it.

I kept watching the clock. I still had four or five hours of prep left. Seven batches of frosting to make. Eighty-seven pastry bags to fill. The stress was climbing. I picked up the baby once more, walked out of the kitchen, and felt an overwhelming urge to scream. Not at anyone. Just scream.

I hadn’t felt that in over fifteen years. It had been so long I’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to have little kids all day long. Years earlier, I would have screamed, yelling at kids, my husband, whoever was nearby. But that night, I swallowed it down and did what I’d learned to do instead. I looked at those sweet, tired children, and I stopped.

Choosing Calm

I sat on the couch with baby Mary and gave her a bottle. I talked with little Jack, sat with Maggie, and let go of the feeling that time was running out and the world would fall apart if I didn’t move faster. You know what happened? Baby Mary calmed down. Jack calmed down. Maggie started laughing. I felt peace settle back into the room. Why hadn’t I done this earlier, before I needed to scream?

It was a long night. Jodie returned after her party, and we finished at 1:30 in the morning. It had been a challenging day, but we got through it. The children were happy for the most part. I remained calm, if frazzled, and nobody yelled.

When life feels as if it’s spinning, the answer isn’t to run from the chaos. It’s to sit down in the middle of it, hold whoever needs holding, listen, breathe, and let go of the fires you think you must put out right this second. All these years later, it’s still true, whether the chaos is a room full of tired grandchildren or a hard afternoon caring for my mom or ill husband. The setting changes. The practice doesn’t.

That night, all those years ago, was one more time I chose to stop instead of scream. I’m still choosing it now, one hard afternoon at a time.

Practicing Calm — What the Boys Taught Me – A Series: Part 4

There’s an idea I keep coming back to: no problem gets solved by the same thinking that created it. We have to see things with fresh eyes. That’s especially true when it comes to staying calm because staying calm doesn’t happen by accident. It happens when we’ve thought ahead about what we’ll do the next time we feel frustrated, pushed, disrespected, or worn thin.

Many of us, without a plan, default to raised voices. We want calmer homes, but when the moment comes, we go straight to frustration and yelling because that’s the response we’re used to. Staying calm comes from knowing, ahead of time, how to respond when things are out of control or don’t meet our expectations.

One Afternoon

I have a friend whose home I’ve spent a lot of time in over the years. I have never heard anyone yell. This family communicates. They don’t lose control.

One afternoon I saw what that looks like when it’s been taught to children too. Her two sons, nine and five, were playing a board game in the living room, close enough that I could hear every word. It was going well for a while, but the younger one couldn’t quite follow all the rules, and it was hard for him to win. He began to fuss and complain quietly.

His older brother patiently explained a few things, but he was only nine himself, and he wanted to win too. Finally, he said, “If you keep fussing and having a bad attitude, I can’t keep playing with you.” The fussing continued, quietly. A couple of minutes later, the older brother repeated himself, then calmly packed up the game. The younger boy’s face fell, but there was no yelling, no tears. About five minutes later, they were playing something else and having a good time.

I know how that sounds. Some of you are shaking your heads, thinking, “Those kids aren’t real, mine would never do that.” I was surprised myself. But here’s the thing: I can guess how those parents handle disagreements with each other, and with their children, just from observing the two boys. They have a plan. They have a system. And their children have absorbed it simply by living inside it.

There’s power in staying calm and communicating clearly. Children learn from what they see, not from what we tell them. You cannot teach one thing and live another. If there’s conflict in your home, if you find yourself losing control, and your children doing the same, the answer starts with mastering yourself first.

Tuesday Morning

Such an easy thing to say, I know. Staying calm isn’t only about how we respond in the moment, as those two boys did. It’s also about the expectations we carry into a moment before it even starts. I experienced that lesson again this week.

I used to be a rager. It took having my eyes opened, realizing I needed to control myself, not blaming others, and having a plan to move forward. It has taken several decades of practicing to get where I am now, and I still have work to do.

At 7:30 on Tuesday morning this week, I was on my knees asking forgiveness for being abrupt with my mom. I felt embarrassed because I often ask forgiveness for the same thing. Calm has not been an easy lesson for me. But I have made progress. I am better. I am kinder. And I keep trying when I goof up.

Mom sometimes takes her Depends off at night, which leaves a mess on her nightgown and sheets. Tuesday morning it happened again, and I lost my patience getting her up.

After my prayer, some thoughts came to me. I was reminded that I wet the bed until I was twelve, and that the scoldings I got for it never helped; they just made me feel bad. I also thought of my daughter Jodie, who has a special-needs daughter in diapers and changes her sheets many times a week. Jodie doesn’t expect anything different; it is what it is, and she handles it. I realized my expectation was the problem. I kept expecting Mom to stop this behavior if I scolded her, when the truth is, her dementia isn’t going away, and this may continue for as long as she’s here. Another thought I had was simple: change the expectation from “this has to stop” to “some mornings there will be a mess.” Therapists sometimes call this reframing, catching the thought before it becomes the reaction. It works for Jodie. It will work for me.

Wow. One more step in a lifelong process of learning to be calm. My embarrassment evaporated into gratitude. I look forward to putting this new expectation into practice.

I shared the boys’ story because it’s a beautiful example of what can happen when we work on calm, so that our family and others can see the work we’re doing, even when we aren’t perfect. So don’t be discouraged if you or your children aren’t there yet. These boys have been practicing the example their parents gave. We need to continue practicing too. Perfection isn’t what we’re aiming for; progress is.

For me, that plan now sounds like this: if I feel my patience slipping with Mom, I stop and ask myself what story I’m telling myself in that moment.

That’s the plan, the system, the thing I can lean on, so I can help everyone around me build one too.

Practicing Calm — It’s Better to Laugh Than to Cry – A Series: Part 3

Story 1

This story from my family goes back decades, to when my youngest daughter, Kate, was still a teenager. The two of us were hurrying out to the car for a church event. I felt rushed. We were running late, and I hate being late. With seven children, you’d think I would have become more accepting of the occasional late start, but I hadn’t, and that day it made me feel anxious.

It had been a warm summer day, no rain in sight, the weather perfect. But as I stepped off the curb to get into the car, I found myself ankle-deep in water. I felt my hackles rising. Who filled the gutter with water? Asking who filled a gutter with water is not exactly a reasonable question. That’s how it goes when we let anger run over: irrational.

As we drove down the tree-lined street, I sputtered about how ticked off I felt, how inconsiderate the whole situation was, how being late seemed like a sign of disrespect, and on and on.

About five blocks from home, I pictured myself stepping off the curb into ankle-deep water. I saw my shocked expression, and myself looking down at the foot I was holding up while it dripped. The mental picture was so funny I started laughing, and the longer I laughed, the harder I laughed. I looked at my daughter, who had been very quiet until then (it might have been dangerous to make a sound), and she started laughing too. We laughed for a good two blocks.

Then my daughter turned to me and said, “Mom, it was funny when it happened.” Her comment brought me up short. She was right. It was one of those unexpected, funny situations that happen in life, and she was pointing out, kindly, that I could have saved us both a lot of stress if I’d just laughed in the first place. That’s often the best way to manage trouble and find happiness in the middle of it.

Story 2

In another season, we took a family vacation with our oldest daughter, Jodie, and her family. Kate was still living at home. We’d prepared for over six months. It was a big deal.

However, one by one, everyone got sick. There was crying, vomiting, and exhaustion. We camped one night and then moved on. But it became hard to travel with the children, and so Jodie decided to head home early. She was ill the day they left, with two sick children in the backseat, and a nursing baby to feed. They were pulling a trailer, and on the way home the truck broke down. They were stranded overnight, and some family members had to travel to help them get home.

When I saw the pictures they took on that drive home, it was beautiful. There weren’t any complaining faces, despite the ruined trip, the months of planning, the lost time. Just smiles. They laughed instead of complaining about one of those unexpected situations that happen in life. Their children were small and not feeling well, but if they remember this trip at all, they’ll remember it as a good one, with adults who held it together by finding the humor in a hard situation.

Kate is now in her 30s, living in Washington with three kids of her own, ages 13, 10, and 7. She was here visiting in July. I found myself watching her the same way I once watched Jodie. I shared one of Jodie’s experiences in last week’s article. Kate was handling her three children with that same steady patience I saw in Jodie all those years ago, the kind you can’t fake and can’t rush. This is something I’m still practicing: it’s better to laugh than to cry or yell, almost every time.

It hasn’t gotten easier, but I do it more often.

Practicing Calm — The Time-In – A Series: Part 2

I’ve been thinking about what it means to practice calm, especially in moments when other people are watching and silently judging whether you’re doing it right. Here’s a story that’s stayed with me for years.

The little boy, three years old, was out of control, a temper tantrum of sorts. I didn’t know what he wanted, but I could tell he felt desperate to have whatever it was. His mother was using a calm voice, talking to him, holding him gently while he twisted and screamed, then leading him away. I could tell that many of the onlooking adults felt upset with her. Why wasn’t she doing anything about this terrible tantrum? Why didn’t she make him stop?

That little boy was my grandson, and his mother is my daughter, Jodie. We were at a family reunion, and this wasn’t his first outburst. He was three, that difficult age when a child is learning to control his impulses, to be patient, to wait. It’s tough. I know some adults who haven’t mastered those skills yet either. LOL

Judgment

I would look across the campground, and there he’d be, wailing about something he needed right now, while other adults quietly formed opinions about his parents and what they weren’t doing. I could tell that silent judgment was wearing on my daughter.

Later, she told me it had taken real effort to stay centered and stay true to the parenting vision she had put in place in her home. What looked like doing nothing to the onlookers was actually a clear plan of action for this mom.

Her goal was to help Jack learn to control himself, and she did that by modeling the very behavior she wanted him to learn. She stayed calm. She was gentle but firm. If he couldn’t get control, she moved him to a quiet place and held him while he settled. It wasn’t easy. It would have been so much easier to handle him roughly, lay down the law, or yell.

What’s a Time-In?

I love the term she used for what happened when he was having a hard moment. She called it a “time-in.” She pulled him into her lap for a cuddle and a quiet chat instead of sending him away. It helped him settle, or at least redirected him toward something calmer.

Parenting can be daunting, especially when we choose to go against the grain. It takes courage to follow what we’ve decided is right, whether it’s how we discipline, educate, or talk to our children in hard moments. Having a clear picture of the outcome we want goes a long way toward helping us stay true to our choices, even when others are watching and wondering why we aren’t doing “more.”

If you’re struggling because you haven’t quite settled on what kind of parent you want to be in these moments, it can help to sit down, even briefly, and put it into words. What do you want your children to feel when they’re overwhelmed? What do you want them to learn about handling big emotions? You don’t need a formal document.

Just enough clarity to hold on to in the moments when everyone else’s opinions are loudest.

Practicing Calm — The Honey Bucket – A Series: Part 1

I used to think staying calm with my children was a skill I’d eventually master and move past, something I’d graduate from once they were grown. I know better now. Right now, I’m caring for my 96-year-old mother, who has dementia, and I’m finding myself back in the same classroom I thought I’d left decades ago.

That’s really what this series of five articles is about. Not a formula, not a finished skill, but a practice, one that shows up again and again across a lifetime, in different seasons, with different people, in ways we don’t always see coming.

The stories in this series are from long ago, mostly from the years when my children were small, or my grandchildren were underfoot. But I keep coming back to them, because the lessons in them are just as true today as they were then. I hope these stories feel less like advice from someone who’s arrived, and more like company from someone still on the road with you.

I’m in a new season of practicing calm. My mom is 96 and living with dementia, and some days caring for her tests every ounce of patience I thought I’d built up over the years. I lose it occasionally. I hear my voice get sharp, or I feel that same old flash of frustration rise, and I have to stop and remind myself of something I learned a long time ago, back when my own children were small.

Staying calm isn’t a skill you master once and keep forever. It’s a practice. And you never know when life will hand you a new season that puts you right back in the classroom. I was reminded of that recently when I came across an old story from years ago, back when my grandchildren were small, and I was watching them for the day. It’s a good reminder that the practice never really ends, and that’s okay. Enjoy. : )

I was sitting at the table watching Mary today. She had a small bowl of popcorn and was happily eating. Every bite or so, she would look up and give me a coy little smile. I would smile back and eat a piece of my popcorn. After several bites and coy smiles, Mary got up, toddled over to me, and lifted her face for a kiss. I gave her one, and she went back to the popcorn, took another bite, gave me that same shy smile, and I returned it. Then she got up again, came over to me, and lifted her face for another kiss. We repeated this a few times.

20 Minutes Earlier

What made this peaceful, joyous moment so remarkable was what had happened just 20 minutes earlier.

In the kitchen was a large bucket of thick honey, straight from my own bees, with no water in it, so it was very sticky. I noticed that bucket the day before and thought, “Hmm, that lid isn’t on very tight.” Then, as busy people do, I went on my way and didn’t do anything about it.

Today my grandchildren came to spend the whole day. I was prepared with crafts and fun, and all was going to be great. But I was running behind, which meant we were late eating breakfast and getting dressed. It was after 11:00 when I was tying the last shoelace. Just then, Mary came into the living room dripping honey from head to foot.

I let out a shriek, grabbed her, and ran for the tub, clothes and all. I fussed the whole way. “Mary, what did you do? Why were you in the kitchen? Look at this mess!” All the things you’d expect me to say.

As I stripped her clothes off and washed away the very thick honey, I made myself think about what was happening. I had a real mess in the kitchen, I was sure. This was my last set of clothes for Mary, and she hadn’t even been dressed for ten minutes. I was angry, and honestly, it was my own fault for not securing that lid.

I forced myself to calm down and really look at her. She was perfectly happy being doused in warm water, and any sense of trouble had already evaporated into the joy of the bath. She’s just a baby, really, only 16 months old. She’s interested in everything, and I mean everything. I hadn’t secured the perimeter, so to speak, and now I had a mess to clean up.

More than that, I realized that damaging this precious relationship over her childish need to explore, and my own oversight, would be a terrible trade. So, I stopped fussing. I washed her off, kissed her as I dried her, and steeled myself to go face the kitchen. It really was a mess.

A couple of days ago, I was talking with a mom about staying calm. She told me she’d decided to practice it, and that it was making a real difference. She said the more she practiced, the better she got at it. Amen to that.

Staying calm, not losing your temper, being present, seeing a child as a person with needs instead of a problem to solve – these are all practiced skills. The more we practice, the better we get. That’s what I had to do that day: practice some more.

What I’ve Learned

I’m imperfect at this, just like most of you. I felt angry first. I fussed. But then I made myself stop and choose better. A few things I’ve learned along the way:

The sweetness of family life comes through when we stay as calm and kind with our children as we can manage.
Children aren’t small adults. They don’t think like we do or behave as we do, and that means they’ll end up in trouble often as they grow and learn.
Living with children means living with the possibility of mess, frustration, and moments that test our patience. But damaging a relationship over a mess is never worth it.
Staying calm takes practice, practice, and more practice, and we won’t be perfect at it. The better we get at it, though, the better we feel about ourselves, and it tends to spill over into the rest of our lives too.

And here I am, all these years later, practicing all over again. : )

Learning in Disguise

A friend of mine, a mom with several young children, told me recently that her kids’ favorite thing to do is play dress-up. They want to do it all day long, even the boys. Of course, it makes a glorious mess. As we visited, she asked me about the value of this interest she was seeing in her kids, and it opened up a wonderful conversation.

The ideas we talked about are primarily for children under eleven, but don’t close the door on your teens just yet. I have found that when families incorporate a younger child’s interests into a shared activity, older kids will often join in too. Secretly, many of them miss being kids. So read on and think about how this might bring your family together, whatever ages you’re working with.

Play Is the Gateway

Children between the ages of one and twelve are in what is called the Age of Exploration. They want to experiment with everything physically and mentally, and dress-up play is one of the most natural expressions of that impulse. What looks like simple make-believe is actually children trying on the world — testing out who they might be, what history might have felt like, what it means to be someone else entirely.

And here is the beautiful opportunity for families: if you are present, even a little, while the costumes are coming out, you can weave in stories and information that children will carry with them for years. Not as a lesson. Not as school. Just as a story told by someone they love, while everyone is playing together. That combination — your presence, their imagination, a great story is a powerful thing.

Ideas to Try

You can share stories of past kings and queens as your children dress up as royalty. You can talk about a historical era and let them act out the characters. Some periods of history are especially rich for this kind of story-play: explorers like Lewis and Clark, scientists like Marie Curie and Albert Einstein, or even a beloved ancestor whose story deserves to be remembered. Tell a short story, then let them become the character. The learning that happens this way tends to stick because it was fun, it was shared, and you were there.

You don’t need an elaborate costume collection for any of this. Some families have a box of dress-up clothes, and that’s wonderful. But what I used with my grandchildren was a large box of fabric squares and scarves. Fabric and scarves leave everything to the imagination, and children are endlessly creative when given the freedom to invent. I have seen teens come up with remarkable ideas and then turn around and help their younger siblings bring those ideas to life. You would be amazed at what can happen when you simply provide the materials and step back.

Weaving It Into Family Life

If your family has a reading time together, that is a natural place to bring in a little dress-up magic. When you are reading a fiction book, stop at an exciting moment in the chapter and act it out. Use your box of fabric squares. You don’t need to do this every time you read together, but every now and again it adds a spark of fun that everyone remembers. This is another place where teens, given the chance, will often surprise you by jumping in to help the younger ones.

If a dedicated dress-up activity doesn’t feel right for your family, there are smaller ways to bring the same spirit in. Tell an interesting story about a historical figure or an ancestor at dinner, and let your littles act it out when the meal is done. Read together as a family, and then when finished, let the younger kids play out what they heard. The idea is simply this: mix their natural love of play with a story worth telling, and learning happens almost without anyone noticing.

From One Family Who Tried It

My friend decided to experiment with some of these ideas, and here is what she shared with me afterward:

“Thank you, Mary Ann! I tried this today. We are reading The Wizard of Oz. Of course, they all wanted to be Dorothy, but eventually they settled on at least one scarecrow. One of the Dorothys wanted to have a Greek-style costume, so she made up a side story to go with that. Thanks for a great idea — it will be fun to use for future reading too!” Sarah

Play and learn. That’s how children do it best. Don’t be afraid to mix their natural love of make-believe with your inspiration and your stories.

The results, as Sarah discovered, can be truly magical.

Stop Fixing the Cookies!

When you’re engaged in a project, what matters to you? For many adults, it’s the outcome. We want the cookies to taste good, the tomatoes to grow large and red, the dress to look store-bought, and the painting to be perfect. I know that doesn’t apply to every adult, but it does apply to many of us.

When children are engaged in a project, what matters to them? For the most part, it’s the process. Have you ever watched a five-year-old paint? They like digging the brush deep in the paint and swirling it around. They like lots of paint on the brush. Then they swipe it onto the paper. They smile at the brightness of the color. They aren’t usually concerned if the red bleeds into the green or if the red turns the yellow a tad orange at the edges. It’s the act of painting they care about. And when it’s done, no matter how it turned out, they are happy and proud.

We can increase our joy when working with children if we let go of the outcome. The act of creating is what children love. It’s what makes learning fun. Our job is to provide the materials and the inspiration. Theirs is to create the outcome.

A Party is a Perfect Venue

Any time we can encourage creative exploration, we are on the path to helping our children gain confidence and learn new things. Even a child’s party is a perfect venue for allowing a child to create without worrying about the outcome.

My mom gave me some amazing parties. I recall that in my seventh-grade year, I had a taffy party. I had seven or eight friends over, and my mom taught us to make pulled taffy. It turned out well. It was so much fun. We had a really good time, and each girl had a gift, a plate of taffy, to take home. My mom showed us what to do and then stood back and let us do it.

I followed my mom’s footsteps. One year we had a dress-up party. I collected dress-ups from thrift stores, and when the children arrived, they each designed an outfit. Then we had a wonderful parade around the block. I supplied the materials, and the kids did the rest. I didn’t help them put their outfits together. The outcome wasn’t the priority; creating was.

Another time I helped the kids make sugar cookies from scratch. They frosted and decorated them with small candies, raisins, and other edible treats. Then the cookies were packed into small boxes to take home. I didn’t fix any cookies that didn’t look perfect. It was tempting because what their parents would see might reflect on me. But I shut out that story and let the kids create.

When my youngest daughter was turning eleven, we had a formal tea party. The guests came in their best dresses and were served by mothers who had been enlisted to help. The ice cream was cut into little teapots using a teapot cookie cutter, and each girl had her own miniature cake. They were encouraged to converse. The other moms and I made ourselves scarce and allowed the girls to figure out how a tea party worked. They got the hang of it, and soon there was an ample amount of giggling and chatting going on in the living room. Each girl went home with a miniature tea set purchased at the dollar store. Kate said it was her favorite party.

One year my son had a relay party. All the activities were relay games. We found lots of ideas by asking his grandparents about games they remembered, games I recalled from my school days, and books from the library. The instructions were given, and then the adults sat on the sidelines and let the kids hash it out. They had a wonderful time.

What Would I Do Differently?

Although I stood back and let the children at the party do their thing, here is what I would have done differently if I could go back. I put together wonderfully creative activities, but I did all the planning, just as my mother had done. Wouldn’t it have been a great learning and growing experience to sit down with the birthday girl or boy and plan it together? I bet often they would have loved my idea. Occasionally they might have had a completely different idea, which would have required me to step back and change course, not always an easy thing. But doing that would have helped them work on skills they would need as adults, rather than just showing up at a party and having fun. Think of all the learning that could happen when a child and parent plan something together.

There is real value in stepping back and allowing our children to create without worrying about the outcome. I once read that the greatest teachers replace themselves. When children feel courageous and excited to venture out, learn new things, and then use what they’ve learned to bring joy to others, that’s something worth celebrating.

Any time we foster the skills of creation, thinking, and problem-solving, we are helping our children on the path to becoming capable, confident adults.

Listening, Trusting, and Following Through Make a World of Difference

The Day of Surgery

The day of my hip surgery, September 3, after returning home, I was going up and down our two stairs, caregiving, and managing as if I had never had surgery. One week out, I canned salsa. The doctor had told me I would recover quickly because I was so active. When I asked about canning, he said I could do whatever I had energy for because my new hip was made to stand on. That’s why I was in crazy mode for the first two weeks after surgery. And it was crazy!

Reality Is No FUN! Getting Help Is

At the end of the first two weeks, reality descended. I fell into extreme fatigue and became depressed. I couldn’t shake the feelings of worry, fear, sadness, anger, resentment, powerlessness, etc. My hip began to bother me when I sat or when I first began walking after sitting. I was totally unprepared for this. It wasn’t what I was expecting after two fabulously energetic and pain-free weeks. What had happened?

Caregiving didn’t go away because I was struggling. Mom and Don still needed help with everything. My daughter helped when she could, but she works full-time, has four teens, one with severe CP. I had to keep doing what was necessary because life goes on. This was the reality of my situation, but how could I continue when I felt so unable to manage myself and my feelings?

I was desperate for answers. So, I did what I do. I prayed for help, resources, and thoughts. As I knew it would, help came. I received information from two trusted sources that let me know that depression is part of the healing process. The body uses all the energy it can to do its healing work, which leaves one depleted. Knowing this, that there wasn’t anything wrong with me, that I wasn’t weak, and was in exactly the correct place, helped me cope with how I felt, until the depression and most of the hip discomfort went away in late December.

A Thought That Made A Difference

Today, I want to focus on one thought that came to me, which I immediately implemented, even though it seemed odd. Then I’ll share the amazing clarity I received as to why trusting the thought and following through made such a difference at a very challenging time.

The thought was to open the hymnal on my phone and sing 1-2 songs each evening. Really, I was living a very busy caregiving life. I had just had surgery and was struggling. I didn’t want to add something else to my already loaded plate! But I listened. It was fall and warm, so I went outdoors at sunset and sang. I couldn’t always sit, so I would stand. It lifted my spirits. It caused me to smile. I have continued this simple practice. Eventually, I couldn’t go outdoors because of the changing weather, so I would sit at my desk in the bedroom or in the bathroom before my nightly shower. The fatigue and depression, although still there, began to be more manageable.

In November, they announced the church choir would begin practicing for the Christmas program. I had quit singing three years earlier. It was too hard to take Mom and Don home, feed them, and then go back for choir. But for the two hours we were at church that day, the thought kept returning. “Mary, sing in the choir.” “Join the choir.” “Don’t forget choir.” Finally, I looked heavenward and said under my breath, “OK!!”, in a frustrated voice. I took Mom and Don home and returned to the church at 3. It was a beautiful and uplifting experience! I hadn’t realized how much letting go of my music had affected me. I had forgotten how much I loved singing.

I was given a small solo, even though I had been gone for three years. Singing a solo was on my bucket list, and here I was at 75, doing it for the first time, after a three-year hiatus. A miracle. Singing daily in the evening and on Sunday with the choir was one of the things that helped my heart shed the burdens it felt.

The Christmas program was wonderful, and I did a good job. It was fun, and I was glad I had listened to my thought. The depression had gone, and I was managing well. But it didn’t end there.

On Sunday, January 18th, they announced there would be a choir for a larger church meeting held a couple of times a year. I knew the singers in this choir would all be better at the craft than I am. I don’t read music well, so I have to memorize my part, but I felt I would have time to do that. I really enjoyed the first practice, despite being in deep water. : )

Why Did It Make A Difference?

Driving home after that first choir practice, I was pondering the whole music/singing issue. Why had it made such a difference? Was it the singing itself, the music, being with a group, what? In that moment of thought, I got a download; it filled my mind and heart. It wasn’t about the music or the singing. It wasn’t about being part of something. It was the sense that I was caring for myself because I matter. I’m worth caring for. This is exactly what I know I am doing when I shower at night. I’ve been showering at night for over 30 years. Caring for myself is what I’m doing when I schedule those phone calls, walks, and the occasional lunch that I resisted doing for three years and recently told you about.

In each of these situations: creating regular connections with other women, taking a hot shower at night, singing in the evening, joining the choir, I was intentionally caring for my heart, my mind, my emotions, my healing, not just from surgery, but from the challenges of everyday living. It was mind-blowing and mind-opening. It made so much sense.

We all find ourselves in this place, maybe not from surgery or illness, but from managing a family, a job, and life. It can feel overwhelming. And we all must learn to manage the feelings this overwhelm can generate.

I mentioned some time back the story I’ve been dealing with for over nine years, “There is no time in my life for me.” I know it’s a story, but it hasn’t been easy to dispel because my life is packed with people to care for, and I gave up a carefully built career to take it on. In this moment of clarity, after that choir practice, I understood that the things I had been led to do by my creator were designed to help me care for myself, to say in a physical way, “I love you, Mary Ann. You matter to me as much as anyone!” The activities I have added to my hectic life in the last couple of years are making a difference, a world of difference.

No matter what your situation looks like, if you ponder and think about how you can care for yourself, thoughts and resources will come. Don’t dismiss them like I did when the thought came to create a group of women I could connect with consistently. Don’t dismiss them if they seem odd, like adding choir practice or evening singing to your already packed day. Don’t dismiss them if they seem frivolous, like scheduling walks or going to lunch once every three months. LOL

Every evening, I still shower, pray for someone, put on lotion, read a few paragraphs, and spend time alone. I can usually give myself 10 to 15 minutes. : ) I still sing every evening. I have my calls, walks, and one lunch preset so they actually happen. I’m diligently working on rewriting that old story, one God-given thought and then one action at a time. I’m sending the message loud and clear to myself,