Category: Family Culture

Just Do It!

Back in 2013, when Jodie and her family moved into our three-bedroom apartment while looking for a new home, I was reminded of many things I had forgotten since my children had grown up and moved away. It takes flexibility to manage a family. Things don’t always go the way you plan, and moving forward when things aren’t just what you want, well, that is the road to feeling good as a family. Here is a peek back to that ‘learning’ time. By the way, Jodie was homeschooling Maggie and Jack and bringing Mary on board. It was a big load!

What does ‘Just Do It’ look like?

There are some real advantages to having a family of six move in with you, especially if they have four children, six and under. I have gotten a bird’s eye view reminder of what it is REALLY like to parent, and home educate. I have been thinking back to my own days of doing both these things, and this has brought back memories, some good and some bad.

Today was a particularly interesting and REAL day. I had to share. It was an example of what “just do it” means in a family.

I heard the children at about 6:30, but I didn’t get up until after 7:00. It was quiet in the living room with Jodie busily working on her computer while the children watched a movie around her. That is how Jodie gets her own devotional and study time accomplished from 6:30 to 8:00. The movie is essential. We all know that watching a movie isn’t the best way to occupy children, but you do what you can, right?

Breakfast happens in shifts as each child awakes. It takes about an hour to feed Maggie, the six-year-old with CP, so Jodie often does that while she reads her scriptures or plans the day. If all goes well, and today it did, everyone is happy, it feels peaceful, and all are fed by 8:00 or so.

I might mention that on some days, one or more children have two breakfasts because by the time the first wakes till the last awakens, or Jodie has time to get food to each one, several hours can go by. By then, early risers are ready for breakfast number two. In fact, I had forgotten how often you must stop and get food for someone in this age group! No matter how your morning goes, as you move towards learning time, you keep going.

On mornings when it all doesn’t go as smoothly as today, it might be 10:00 before everyone is fed and dressed. Those are the noisy and sometimes exhausting mornings. You just keep smiling, hugging, and remembering that this too, will pass. It doesn’t matter if school begins later if it happens.

‘Just do it’ keeps everything moving when it’s not perfect!

Next, it’s getting ready for the day, taking off pajamas and getting dressed, changing diapers. This is less peaceful and usually goes less smoothly; you know how it is. One child doesn’t like what you have given them to wear, another doesn’t want their diaper changed, a third won’t hold still long enough to get dressed, and all the while Maggie, is asking for her iPad with a loud “Where are you” squeal.

Then we move to the family devotional. Quiet reverence is not the standard here. There is family singing with one voice, Jodie’s. Then a lot of “sit down, fold your arms, can you listen please” and sighing…on mom’s part. As I watch and occasionally participate, I sometimes think that I would bag it and move on. Jodie is a stalwart for sure. She is a master of ‘just do it.’

By about 10:15 today all was finally accomplished. Jodie had showered and dressed. (How she got a shower I am not quite sure!) Next, it was family work. Family work is never called chores. It isn’t a chore to do your part in your family. Chores are saved for consequences when you forget to do as asked in a pleasant way, which on some days can be often! : )

Family chores are one way that Jodie helps the children gain confidence and pride in their abilities. Jack was supposed to fold clothes. I saw Jodie pull folded dishcloths out of the drawer, unfold them, and give them to Jack to fold. (He didn’t see her unfold them.) This happened because there wasn’t any clean laundry to fold. It wasn’t that there wasn’t any laundry; it was just all still dirty. Often laundry takes a back seat to what really matters. : )

Mary was assigned to empty wastebaskets while Benny carried his little broom around copying the Bigs in his life. Maggie swept and vacuumed, and she loves helping. It will always be a special treat to her because it is never mundane.

After family work, it was school. Today, they read the classic they are working on, “Raggedy Ann and Andy”. Then they played ball. Maggie needs help with this activity. Jack is a great big brother and did his part. Then we made hedgehogs.

A few days earlier, I was telling the kids about hedgehogs. We looked at pictures and videos online and they were so taken with them. Today, out of the blue, Jack asked to make a hedgehog!

His mom didn’t put him off so that she could find a pattern and get the stuff needed. She just threw some odds and ends together. She used what she had because the interest was now. In a day or two it would probably be gone. Sparks, or what interest a child, can have a short shelf life. The younger the child the shorter the shelf life. : )

I was so busy helping that I didn’t get a photo of the table before the project began. I would have loved for you to see it. It was a disaster. Most of what we used for dinner was still there from the night before. I am sorry to have to confess that, but there it is. Some nights we move on to something else right after the meal and often, well, we are tired. : ) Jodie did what any great mom would do. She pushed it out of the way and carried on.

Here, in a borrowed home, in cramped quarters, that was all of it, all there was to “school” and taking care of ‘family time.’ There are thoughts in both our minds, mine, and Jodie’s, about what a successful home education and family-together day should look like. This is what it looks like for now.

Instead of requiring everything to be ‘just right’ before you move forward, decide instead to ‘just do it!’

It’s progress, not perfection that gets the job done.

Chaos Reigns!

When we moved from Montana to Utah we helped our daughter purchase her first home. We lived in that home with her for a while. Then she married, and we moved two blocks away. Not long after that Maggie, our granddaughter with CP, was born.

After a few years, Jodie’s family needed a more handicapped-accessible home, and voila, we were eight people in a smallish 3-bedroom apartment. This was a precursor to living with them, in a three-generation home, which was a precursor to living in a four-generation home when we added my mom. From this article, you will know that when we made these life-altering decisions, we didn’t do it blindly. LOL

Chaos Reigns!

Tonight, I cooked dinner with a baby riding on my hip and a three-year-old helping me brown onions and hamburger on the stove for “jelly” sauce (spaghetti sauce). It was a bit cumbersome trying to keep three-year-old Mary out of harm’s way while allowing her to help and carrying Ben, who was grabbing for everything he could reach from my hip.

I did all this while trying not to step on anything that would send me crashing to the floor, seeing that the almost one-year-old Ben had emptied the utensil drawer, the reason he was now riding on my hip. LOL

I could hear Jack, the four-year-old making lots of noise from the living room, so Ben, Mary, and I went to see what was up. He was running his trucks through the maze laid out in a random pattern on practically every square inch of the living room floor. All’s well here, back to the “jelly” sauce.

Meanwhile, the six-year-old was yelling for help with her iPad. Maggie has cerebral palsy and has a way of letting us all know when her iPad is not cooperating with her limited hand movement. Right now, she was letting me know…loudly.

“Jelly” sauce simmering, noodles boiling, and Mary slopping melted garlic butter on a tower of French bread. I heard her say, oops, never a good sign. Seems as if some of the garlic butter has found its way down her chest and onto the fabric-covered chairs. No problem, just mixing with the strawberry ice cream drops from the night before.

I pop the garlic bread into the oven to broil and head to the sink to drain the noodles. Ben is trying to crawl up my leg and I notice the sink is full of cups. I set the strainer on the cups. It will be ok as they aren’t washed yet. I dump the noodles. The cups are not stable, and the strainer tips. I grab HOT noodles as many slide down the drain. Then I smell scorched bread. Our garlic toast is going to be a bit crisper and darker than I had planned.

I holler to Jack, “Go tell Grandpa that grandma needs him…NOW!” I am 63 with a 64-year-old husband and three years ago our youngest child got married and left home. This was after 39 years of in-house parenting.

So how did I get into this predicament?

My daughter and son-in-law and four grandchildren have come to live for a while, a few weeks, or months, while their home sells and another comes into their lives. It makes for tight quarters in our three-bedroom apartment.

Frankly, the last few days have been a lot like raising our seven children in our 100-year-old home in Small Town Montana, chaos, noise, mess, spills, crying, laughing, fun, not so fun….

I am reminded that it isn’t easy being a parent. Life isn’t what we thought it would be when we married and started having kids. It has been quite a bit more challenging and messier than we anticipated…a bit like the last few days.

But oh, my goodness, it has

been worth it!!!

P.S. Over a decade has passed since this article was written. It hasn’t gotten easier BUT it is more than worth it!!

Children Learn Best When They Are Interested!

In the next four weeks, I am going to be sharing articles I wrote over ten years ago. Why? Because they were fun, contained great information and when I reread them, I fell in love with my family all over again. I will have a current introduction to each article, but I‘m not going to adjust the information to make it appear that it is in the now. You will see people and situations as they were over a decade ago.

You know, I have been in the parenting trench for a long time. I raised my own seven and then I moved into a three-generation home. I didn’t have that 24/7 responsibility but I was still surrounded by children and the challenges, joys, and learning that come with that territory.

Now, I am in a four-generation home. It just goes on and on. LOL I think I was made for this and although sometimes I would like to be in a home with just me, Don, and quiet, well, I would miss out on much, and I would learn far less. So, enjoy these lessons from the past and the cute kids who taught them to me.

Children Learn Best When They Are Interested

Benny is two, and he loves knowing how things work! Yesterday, as I came upstairs, I saw him working with a screwdriver on the wall heat vent. He was trying to put the blade of the screwdriver into the slot on the screw head.

Of course, his motor skills aren’t developed enough for him to manage it. Then there is the issue of being strong enough to turn the screwdriver. Benny didn’t seem perturbed or discouraged about what he couldn’t do. He was totally immersed in learning at his level.

I said, “Benny, what are you doing?” He replied, “Take off.” When his motor skills catch up with his desire to work with tools, we had all better look out!!!

I am thinking about Benny today because of what happened this morning. I have been tied to my computer for a few days working on a project with a deadline.

This morning Benny climbed onto my lap and watched for a short time. Then he said, “What this” while pointing to the cord that connects my computer to the source of electricity. I responded that this cord brought electricity to the computer and that a computer had to have electricity to work. He repeated, “Electricity”.

He then pointed to the printer cord and said, “What that?” “It is a cord to the printer, Benny. It lets the computer tell the printer to go to work”. I pointed out the cursor on the screen and then hit the printer icon. Then we watched the page print.

Next, he pointed to the cord that connects the mouse to the computer. “What that?” “That is the mouse, Benny. See, when I move the mouse this little cursor moves on the screen and lets me pick what I want.” He repeated, “Cursor.” He was fascinated.

Then he pointed to the thumb drive I was using for my project. “What that?” I told him it was a thumb drive that contained pictures of family. He said, “Thumb drive”.

I moved the mouse, pointed out the cursor on the screen, and he watched while I opened the device and then the file. We took a moment or two and scrolled through the pictures while he named off the people. When we were finished looking at the pictures, he pointed to the thumb drive and wanted to start over again! Children learn best when they are interested!

Why Taking the Time to Hear Matters!

This is a perfect example of what happens when we make time to listen to children and respond to what they are currently interested in. I was listening, I heard his interest, and I responded. Then we had what I call a mini-conversation. It was tempting to say, “Benny, I can’t play right now, I am working.” But who knows when he will come again to ask about the computer.

And since when does a 2-year-old sit still and learn about something way over his head for almost 5 minutes? Anytime they are really interested.

That is the key to real learning. When a child is interested in something, they want to know more. So, it is important to resist the temptation to put off what we could do now, until later, when it feels more convenient.

The Rewards of Making Space to ‘HEAR’

We can’t always respond right now, but we should respond whenever we can; the younger the child, the more fleeting the interest and the teaching moments.

Benny won’t remember the terms he heard today. He still has no idea how any of it really works. But here is what he will remember:

  • Grandma loves him and is interested in what he is interested in.
  • Learning is fun.
  • He is never too young to ask questions about what interests him.
  • Asking questions is a good thing. Not knowing yet, is OK.

When Listening to Kids:

  • We can scale down any topic to fit the child’s age as I did with Benny.
  • We need to listen to and hear their interest
  • Watch for Sparks, your child is telling you what they want to know NOW
  • If you can’t respond now, do so as soon as you can. With children, time matters.

I enjoyed helping Benny learn more about the computer today, and it went a long way in helping us connect and share love. Remember,

Children learn best when they are interested!

Make Learning Safe!

Over the last twenty years, I have run across wonderful resources. Today I want to share an article that I read back in 2013. It was by Kerry Patterson. I enjoy reading his stuff because it is always fun and illuminating.  In this article Kerry outlines the parent or teacher’s job of establishing an environment where their charges can learn and grow (even experiment) without fear of being in trouble. Whether you school your children at home or they attend public or private school, we all are teachers to our kids every day! You are going to love this!

     “It Is Rocket Science”

by Kerry Patterson

When I woke up that bright and sunny morning, I never suspected that I’d burn down my bedroom. But some days just don’t go as planned.

It was a Sunday morning, and this meant that later that evening the entire Patterson clan would plop down in front of their fifteen-inch black-and-white DuMont TV and worship at the altar of the Ed Sullivan Theater. For those of us living at the far edge of the U.S.—and at the far corner of Puget Sound to boot—Ed Sullivan provided a lifeline to the bigger world of hip happenings and top-notch entertainment. Who knew what menagerie of singers, dancers, acrobats, and comedians Mr. Sullivan would bring us! Would it be Elvis or even the Beatles? Surely the ventriloquist Señor Wences or the puppet Topo Gigio would grace the stage. It was Sunday, it was sunny, and all was well.

And then came the bomb. Mom sat me down and explained that she and Dad would be attending a volunteer meeting that evening and that I’d have to chaperone in their stead. Chaperone? I was a fourteen-year-old kid. Whom was I supposed to chaperone?

It turns out that a friend’s daughter, who was attending the local college, wanted to buy her first life insurance policy, and Mom had volunteered our living room for the sales presentation. Unfortunately, since Mom and Dad would be gone, I’d have to hang around. Without my dampening presence, who knows what lecherous shenanigans the insurance agent might attempt? And, as if listening to an insurance salesman wasn’t going to be bad enough, the meeting was to take place during the sacred time slot of the Ed Sullivan show!

When the appointed hour finally rolled around, I squirmed impatiently while the insurance fellow yammered on about “contingencies” and “risk aversion” until I could take it no longer. With one swift move, I slipped unnoticed into my bedroom adjacent to the living room. This put me out of range of the insurance talk but left me with nothing to do. After carefully studying the skin on my elbow for a couple of minutes, it hit me. Under my desk was a large bowl of rocket fuel I had recently concocted and set aside. Now would be the perfect time to turn it from a dry powder into a solid mass by melting it down and then letting it solidify.

I had never performed this operation before, nor did I have the necessary equipment on hand, but I had heard that transforming the powdered fuel into a solid block gave it more stability. I quickly fashioned a Bunsen burner out of materials I found in the bathroom. A Vaseline lid, a wad of cotton, and a couple of jiggers of my dad’s aftershave lotion—and voila! I was ready to cook. Next, I poured a generous portion of the fuel into a Pioneer chemical container that consisted of a cardboard tube with a flat metal bottom and a pop-out metal top. The cardboard would provide me with a safe place to grip the container, while the metal bottom would take the flame and melt the fuel.

Within minutes, I gingerly held the jury-rigged beaker above the Aqua Velva flame and was merrily melting the powder. Sure, I’d be missing Ed Sullivan’s guest star, Richard Burton, as he performed a number from Camelot, but I was advancing science. What could be more important?

Then, with no warning whatsoever, the powder hit its ignition point and burst into a frightening torrent of smoke and flames, scorching the wallpaper above my desk, and burning a hole in the ten-foot ceiling. I couldn’t drop the blazing tube, or it would have careened around the room and set the drapes and other flammables on fire. So, I gritted my teeth and held the flame-spitting cylinder firmly through its entire burn. For a full minute, the fiery tube charred the wall and ceiling while dropping blazing bits of debris on my arms and legs—burning holes in my shirt and pants and leaving behind pea-sized scars.

The rest is a blur. When it was finally safe to set the container down, I bolted from my bedroom and threw open the front door to vent the house. A fire truck loaded with highly animated firefighters rolled into our driveway and it wasn’t long until several of them were screaming at me for being so stupid as to—well, cook rocket fuel in my bedroom. Apparently, not being able to swing their axes or shoot a single drop of water into our home had really ticked them off. One angrily threw open the parlor windows when I asked him what I could do to get rid of the smoke. Another glumly stared at my bedroom and shook his head while muttering, “Boy, are you going to get it when your folks come home!”

And then my folks came home. As the fire crew backed out of our driveway and the insurance salesman and frightened college girl bolted from the scene, Mom and Dad slowly approached. Watching a fire crew pull away from your home is never a good sign when you’re the parent of a teenage boy; however, it did give my folks a hint as to what lay ahead. As the two walked stoically into my bedroom and surveyed the damage, Mom stated, “You realize, of course, that you’re going to have to set this right.” I did. I paid for the repairs out of my college savings.

And then, Mom said something that was so quintessential “Mom” that I’ve never forgotten it: “What did you learn from this adventure?” Most parents, when faced with the smoldering shell of a bedroom would have grounded their careless son through social security. Or maybe they would have hurled threats, pulled out their hair, or perhaps guilt-tripped their soon-to-be-jailed juvenile delinquent into years of therapy. But Mom simply wanted to know what I had learned from the incident. It wasn’t a trick on her part; it was how Mom treated debacles. For her, every calamity was a learning opportunity, every mishap a chance to glean one more morsel of truth from the infinitely instructive universe.

So, I talked to Mom and Dad about ignition points, research design, precautions, and adult supervision. I meant most of what I said. I even followed my own advice and avoided catching any more rooms on fire. In fact, save for one minor screw-up a few months later during a routine rocket test where I accidentally blew off my eyebrows (leading to an embarrassing few days where I was forced to darken my remaining forehead hairs with eyebrow pencil—not cool for a guy in high school), I averted further disasters of all types.

But what I didn’t avert was the bigger message. Mom wanted me and my brother to be full-time learners—ambulant scholars if you like. It was her central mission in life to turn us into responsible adults who learned at every turn. While the masses might bump into the world, take the occasional licking, and then endlessly complain, she wanted us to bounce back with the question: What does this teach us? While others carped about effects, she wanted us to find the causes. Our classroom was to extend beyond the halls of academia and down any path our journey took us—even into the occasional charred bedroom.

The implication of this message to parents and leaders alike is profound. It’s the adult’s or leader’s job to establish an environment where their charges can learn and grow (even experiment) without fear of being grounded through social security. This isn’t to suggest that either the home or the corporate learning environment should allow individuals to run about willy-nilly—heating up rocket fuel without a single thought as to what might go wrong. I had been irresponsible, and I was held accountable. But I had also been experimenting with rocket science, and Mom didn’t want to stifle this part of me. She wanted me to experiment, and this called for calculated risks. She saw it as her job to teach me how to make the calculations, not to set aside my test tubes and chemicals.

So, let’s take our lead from the ambulant scholar. Should our best-laid plans run afoul, may we have the wisdom to pause, take a deep breath, and ask: What did we learn from this?

Thank you Kerry, so beautifully said! : )

P.S. Kerry Patterson has written some wonderful books which I have read. They are worth your time.  Here are a few –

A Story of Classic ‘In the Box’ Thinking

A Story of Classic ‘In the Box’ Thinking

I lived in an apartment before we consolidated into a four-generation home. I loved my apartment except for one thing, there weren’t many electrical outlets, and they didn’t all work well. I know I could have fixed them, but as with most things that don’t cause enough discomfort, I just kept thinking about it.

Because of the outlet situation, I plugged my vacuum into the bathroom outlet, which was down a short hallway from the living room. It was high on the wall by the mirror. It wouldn’t hold the plug tightly and the plug frequently fell out. It was exasperating every time I vacuumed.

By the time I finished, I would be angry at the vacuum and the plug, as if they were living things out to make my life miserable. Occasionally I would yell at them. I was a victim of a home with lousy outlets! When I was ready to vacuum, I sometimes thought about how exasperating it would be. I was bugged before I started. You may be laughing, but I know you can relate!

One day my daughter stopped over and helped with the vacuuming. I noticed she plugged the vacuum into the kitchen, which was also off the living room. I was amazed because it never occurred to me to do that. I had always used the bathroom outlet. Despite being upset over the situation, I was busy and wanted it done so I could get on to the next thing. I never took the time to problem-solve the dilemma. This is an example of classic in the box thinking.

It took an outside view to help me see another alternative. The next day Jodie had a second idea. She showed me that if I wanted to use the bathroom plug, I could wrap the cord around the towel rack hanging just above it, and it would stay in. Imagine two solutions to my problem in two days after years of frustration. Both solutions were simple and doable.

I had gotten into the box when it came to vacuuming. Being frustrated, angry, and feeling like a victim of bad outlets had become a habit for me.

I am sure you are thinking how silly, how foolish to put up with a bothersome situation so long when there were easy solutions right under my nose. You are right, but that is what in the box thinking is…moving down one road filled with ruts and holes and not taking the time to consider other alternatives; feeling put upon, bothered, stuck, or victimized.

I am sharing this old experience because this happens in relationships and in parenting. A child is bugging us, we can’t figure out how to solve a problem in their schooling results, we can’t seem to fix our schedule, the kids won’t do their chores, we haven’t been able to make curfew work or manage the technology in our home, and the list goes on.

We’re all busy and sometimes do not take the time to step back and think out of the box to resolve the issue. It’s easier to put up with things that are bugging us until they become habits and cause real pain. It’s also easier to blame someone or something else, just as I blamed the vacuum cord and the plug. The real problem was easy for my daughter to solve because she wasn’t blaming anything, she wasn’t willing to be frustrated, and she was willing to STOP, look, and see what other options were available. Once we climb outside the box, all sorts of possible solutions emerge.

Thinking out of the box is associated with creativity, it causes us to move in diverging directions, consider a variety of solutions, and not feel like victims.

We all need help to get out of our boxes. We may find that help in a wise neighbor or friend, maybe even a helpful daughter. We might need a counselor or mentor. We can find solutions to issues that are causing us pain.

But we must:

• Realize that there may be a better way if we look.
• Be willing to accept other options when presented.
• Listen to the ideas of others. Sometimes ask your child.
• Get outside help if needed.
• Allow yourself to experiment with new ways of being or engaging with others. If it doesn’t work, there is no failure. Just try another experiment.

When we learn to stop and look at our problems in new ways, we can solve them.

Getting out of the box can lead to better family relationships and peace.

 

Personal Growth When Life Turns Upside Down

Jams and Grahams – a Caregivers Story of Personal Growth

Last week I shared a tremendous story of how my sister maintained her sense of value and happiness and was able to problem-solve effectively during a very stressful experience. Today I want to share one more that is equally amazing. This happened on Christmas day, 2022, so I wanted to share it before we were too far into the new year.

My sister Rozanne’s husband has had two strokes. They have upended their lives. Some days can be very challenging. As she said, “Since the second stroke, it has been six months of ‘adding in and letting go,’ of various expectations, for both of us.”

Christmas was not the same. There were no gifts under the tree they had purchased for each other. It wasn’t something her husband was capable of, and she had been busy taking care of Christmas for her grown family and others she loves and cares about.

Nevertheless, we want to carry on with traditions, so on Christmas morning Rozanne placed a bow on a box of jam that she had purchased for Daryl. He loves jam. She chose not to wrap the box, only adding a bow. At this challenging time, she had been practicing letting go of what had seemed important in the past but that she now knows is unimportant. After all, since her husband’s stroke what was necessary and important had changed a lot.

The box of jam looked lonely sitting there. Then she remembered Daryl had asked his son, Kenny, to buy a box of graham crackers for her, because he knows she loves them. They were in the kitchen cupboard. She went to the kitchen and retrieved the box of crackers and placed them under the tree next to the jam. Into her mind came these words, ‘Jams and Grahams,’ a Caregivers’ Story of Personal Growth. As a full-time caregiver, I can relate to my sister’s experience!

You see, life isn’t static. It changes. Sometimes the change is exciting and pleasurable. Sometimes it requires that we manage our story and in turn how we choose to feel.

The Rest of the Story

My sister could have mourned the changes that Christmas morning, but instead she took charge of the story, and the result was joy, not sorrow. Let me share the rest of the story and you will see what I mean.

Daryl was happy to see two gifts under the tree. He took his bottles of jam and put them in hiding. : ) As my sister walked to the kitchen to put her graham crackers back in the cupboard she noticed that Daryl had taken the bow from his jam package and placed it on her cracker box. My sister said, “The picture in my mind of that sweet gesture, will remain in my thoughts, for the rest of my life.”

This year, choose to suffer less. Choose to remain in control of your stories. Write them in your mind in a way that lifts you, no matter what happens. You are 100% in control of your response to whatever comes your way. You can’t control everything that happens or how others behave, but you can control your response.

Here’s to a ‘Character Building’ New Year full of personal growth.

6 Tips for Talking With Kids

6 Tips for Talking With Kids

I have had some GREAT conversations with kids. There are always opportunities to practice this skill, and it is a skill. Part of the reason I have these great conversations is that I work at keeping the conversation going. I want to talk with them, I want to know what they think and feel about what is going on in their lives. I want to know them better. That is what makes a great conversationalist with kids of all ages.

How to keep the conversation going 

A conversation goes much farther with a child when we do not impart our judgments or opinions. There is great value in focusing on a child’s feelings or reactions in any given situation rather than sharing what we think or feel. When we can listen without judgment, it helps kids process their emotions.

I laugh when I think of a conversation that a friend shared. She was riding in the car with her teenage daughter, and it went something like this:
“Mom”.
“What?”
“I don’t think I should have a baby now.”
“Is this a consideration?”
“I thought about it, but now I’ve realized something.”
“What’s that?”
“I only really want to buy lots of cute little baby shoes.”
“Oh, that’s very different from having a real baby.”
“Yeah, that’s what I think too.”

When this mom listened calmly, without judgment or sharing her own opinion, she found out what was really going on. It was all about cute baby shoes and not sex. She learned something about her daughter. The conversation lasted long enough to know what her daughter was really thinking.

Here is another example of listening without judgment or opinion.
“Mom, I don’t like David.”
“Hmm, why not?”
“He is dumb.”
“What happened to make you think that?”
“He pushed me off the swing.”
“Oh really? How was that for you?”
“Not good! I really wanted to swing, and it hurt my leg.”
“You didn’t get to swing.”
“No, and that wasn’t nice!”
“You got hurt?”
“Yeah! I would never do that to someone!”

Right after the words, “Mom, I don’t like David,” this mom could have begun a mini-lecture on why it isn’t nice to talk mean about our friends, and then she wouldn’t have discovered what her son was feeling or had experienced.

6 TIPS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

  • Ask open-ended questions. “How did that work out? How do you feel about that? What do you think you can do? How was that for you?
  • Don’t offer your opinion.
  • Give fewer judgments.
  • Say fewer words.
  • Help kids find their own feelings about their experiences.
  • Rather than tell, ask.

These tips will help your child develop emotional awareness and a strong inner compass. It will help them choose their behavior even when no one is there to evaluate and give them feedback. There is always time to revisit a conversation if teaching is needed, but for now, listen, be interested, and ask good questions.

When we practice talking with our children we are better able to be present and we parent more wisely.

Helping Children Be Free to Learn

In September, I took a rest. I had traveled to Colorado in late August to help a daughter having surgery and was repeating that trip for the same reason early in September. I knew I was going to need a rest. The truth is I would like an even longer rest. You are moms so you know what I am talking about. LOL

However, consistency is a hallmark of my life. I have found that it is a principle of power. I also keep commitments to myself and others. I told you I would be back the first Sunday of October. : ) With that in mind, I am back.

Today I am sharing an article I read years ago, written by one of my favorite authors. It had a powerful lesson to teach – it is the parent or teacher’s job to establish an environment where children can learn and grow (even experiment) without fear of being in trouble.

I was not this kind of mom, and it took me decades to begin to scratch the surface of this lesson. I want you to receive the lesson, even though it is still a work in progress for me at seventy-two, although I have made long strides in the right direction. It will hearten you, challenge you, and, if internalized, help you be a more present parent. I hope you enjoy and learn as much from Kerry Patterson’s story as I did when I read it back in 2008.

“It Is Rocket Science” by Kerry Patterson

“When I woke up that bright and sunny morning, I never suspected that I’d burn down my bedroom. But some days just don’t go as planned.

It was a Sunday morning, and this meant that later that evening the entire Patterson clan would plop down in front of their fifteen-inch black-and-white DuMont TV and worship at the altar of the Ed Sullivan Theater. For those of us living at the far edge of the U.S.—and at the far corner of Puget Sound to boot—Ed Sullivan provided a lifeline to the bigger world of hip happenings and top-notch entertainment. Who knew what menagerie of singers, dancers, acrobats, and comedians Mr. Sullivan would bring us! Would it be Elvis or even the Beatles? Surely the ventriloquist Señor Wences or the puppet Topo Gigio would grace the stage. It was Sunday, it was sunny, and all was well.

And then came the bomb. Mom sat me down and explained that she and Dad would be attending a volunteer meeting that evening and that I’d have to chaperone in their stead. Chaperone? I was a fourteen-year-old kid. Whom was I supposed to chaperone?

It turns out that a friend’s daughter, who was attending the local college, wanted to buy her first life insurance policy, and Mom had volunteered our living room for the sales presentation. Unfortunately, since Mom and Dad would be gone, I’d have to hang around. Without my dampening presence, who knows what lecherous shenanigans the insurance agent might attempt? And, as if listening to an insurance salesman wasn’t going to be bad enough, the meeting was to take place during the sacred time slot of the Ed Sullivan show!

When the appointed hour finally rolled around, I squirmed impatiently while the insurance fellow yammered on about “contingencies” and “risk aversion” until I could take it no longer. With one swift move, I slipped unnoticed into my bedroom adjacent to the living room. This put me out of range of the insurance talk but left me with nothing to do. After carefully studying the skin on my elbow for a couple of minutes, it hit me. Under my desk was a large bowl of rocket fuel I had recently concocted and set aside. Now would be the perfect time to turn it from a dry powder into a solid mass by melting it down and then letting it solidify.

I had never performed this operation before, nor did I have the necessary equipment on hand, but I had heard that transforming the powdered fuel into a solid block gave it more stability. I quickly fashioned a Bunsen burner out of materials I found in the bathroom. A Vaseline lid, a wad of cotton, and a couple of jiggers of my dad’s aftershave lotion—and voila! I was ready to cook. Next, I poured a generous portion of the fuel into a Pioneer chemical container that consisted of a cardboard tube with a flat metal bottom and a pop-out metal top. The cardboard would provide me with a safe place to grip the container, while the metal bottom would take the flame and melt the fuel.

Within minutes, I gingerly held the jury-rigged beaker above the Aqua Velva flame and was merrily melting the powder. Sure, I’d be missing Ed Sullivan’s guest star, Richard Burton, as he performed a number from Camelot, but I was advancing science. What could be more important?

Then, with no warning whatsoever, the powder hit its ignition point and burst into a frightening torrent of smoke and flames, scorching the wallpaper above my desk and burning a hole in the ten-foot ceiling. I couldn’t drop the blazing tube, or it would have careened around the room and set the drapes and other flammables on fire.

So I gritted my teeth and held the flame-spitting cylinder firmly through its entire burn. For a full minute, the fiery tube charred the wall and ceiling while dropping blazing bits of debris on my arms and legs—burning holes in my shirt and pants and leaving behind pea-sized scars.

The rest is a blur. When it was finally safe to set the container down, I bolted from my bedroom and threw open the front door to vent the house. A fire truck loaded with highly animated firefighters rolled into our driveway and it wasn’t long until several of them were screaming at me for being so stupid as to—well, cook rocket fuel in my bedroom. Apparently, not being able to swing their axes or shoot a single drop of water into our home had really ticked them off. One angrily threw open the parlor windows when I asked him what I could do to get rid of the smoke. Another glumly stared at my bedroom and shook his head while muttering, “Boy, are you going to get it when your folks come home!”

And then my folks came home. As the fire crew backed out of our driveway and the insurance salesman and frightened college girl bolted from the scene, Mom and Dad slowly approached. Watching a fire crew pull away from your home is never a good sign when you’re the parent of a teenage boy; however, it did give my folks a hint as to what lay ahead. As the two walked stoically into my bedroom and surveyed the damage, Mom stated, “You realize, of course, that you’re going to have to set this right.” I did. I paid for the repairs out of my college savings.

And then, Mom said something that was so quintessential “Mom” that I’ve never forgotten it: “What did you learn from this adventure?” Most parents, when faced with the smoldering shell of a bedroom would have grounded their careless son through social security. Or maybe they would have hurled threats, pulled out their hair, or perhaps guilt-tripped their soon-to-be-jailed juvenile delinquent into years of therapy. But Mom simply wanted to know what I had learned from the incident. It wasn’t a trick on her part; it was how Mom treated debacles. For her, every calamity was a learning opportunity, every mishap a chance to glean one more morsel of truth from the infinitely instructive universe.

So, I talked to Mom and Dad about ignition points, research design, precautions, and adult supervision. I meant most of what I said. I even followed my own advice and avoided catching any more rooms on fire. In fact, save for one minor screw-up a few months later during a routine rocket test where I accidentally blew off my eyebrows (leading to an embarrassing few days where I was forced to darken my remaining forehead hairs with eyebrow pencil—not cool for a guy in high school), I averted further disasters of all types.

But what I didn’t avert was the bigger message. Mom wanted me and my brother to be full-time learners—ambulant scholars if you like. It was her central mission in life to turn us into responsible adults who learned at every turn. While the masses might bump into the world, take the occasional licking, and then endlessly complain, she wanted us to bounce back with the question: What does this teach us? While others carped about effects, she wanted us to find the causes. Our classroom was to extend beyond the halls of academia and down any path our journey took us—even into the occasional charred bedroom.

The implication of this message to parents and leaders alike is profound. It’s the adult’s or leader’s job to establish an environment where their charges can learn and grow (even experiment) without fear of being grounded through social security. This isn’t to suggest that either the home or the corporate learning environment should allow individuals to run about willy-nilly—heating up rocket fuel without a single thought as to what might go wrong. I had been irresponsible, and I was held accountable. But I had also been experimenting with rocket science, and Mom didn’t want to stifle this part of me. She wanted me to experiment, and this called for calculated risks. She saw it as her job to teach me how to make the calculations, not to set aside my test tubes and chemicals.

So, let’s take our lead from the ambulant scholar. Should our best-laid plans run afoul, may we have the wisdom to pause, take a deep breath, and ask: What did we learn from this?

The Parenting Microscope

I was not a perfect parent! Of course, you know that because there are no perfect parents, any more than perfect people. However, it shocks me when I see a poor behavior from my parenting days that has crept into my grandparenting days. Being with children is like being under a microscope, where your strengths and weaknesses are enlarged for you to view.

That is why being a parent can be rough some days…because you are always under that microscope. It eases up a bit when you become a grandparent because you don’t have children 24-7, and when you do have them for longer periods, say overnight, well, you can hold it together. It’s when you have them for more than a few days that the microscope turns back on. That happened to me this month. I went to Washington to help one of my daughters for eight days, to give her mini-breaks, and to love on my grands.

A NOT Perfect Grandparent

My Washington grands are all under ten. They have friends in the neighborhood who match those ages. On some days we would have five or six kids. They can make a lot of noise. : ) I had to work at remaining calm and patient with the noise and the resulting chaos. You know the kind, chalk all over the patio and not in the bucket; water toys on the lawn, not in the pool or even close to it, scooters lying on the lawn, towels dropped on the ground and not hung up on the landing, and so forth.

Meals were somewhat challenging also. I recall that two of my boys wouldn’t eat anything green or red. Augh! My grands have their own picky way of eating. But the final meal was awesome. I lined up all the leftovers on the counter and said, “Pick what you want.” Then I added carrots or cucumbers depending on the child. It was much more enjoyable than being fussed that no one wanted to eat the same food

A ‘Really NOT Perfect’ Grandparent

I remind myself that I grew up in a far different time than my grands are growing up in. No one talked to kids, they just told us what to do. No one ever explored our feelings and what was causing us to behave in a certain way. I can find myself back in that parenting place. After all, it is familiar. What that looks like is me holding up my hand, and saying, “We aren’t going to discuss it further. You know what to do,” in my ‘strict’ voice. Not loud or angry, just absolutely firm.

This isn’t how I grandparent most of the time. But when I’m tired, hungry, or sleep deprived, well… It happened with one of my grands in Seattle. Elliott went to his room upset with me. I told his mom what happened, how he had responded, and how I responded. Kate went to talk with him. He said, “It makes me scared when grandma uses her strict voice.” Oh my gosh. Not how I want them to remember me. But I am still not perfect, even after seventy-two years of getting rid of the garbage and learning new skills.

Later, we were all outside and Elliott was riding his scooter. As he coasted to a stop I said, “Do you want to talk about it.” He said, “No.” I waited and then I used a helpful skill – mini-conversations. As he coasted down the drive and stopped by me again, I said something about scooters in my day. He was intrigued. As he coasted by me a third time, I asked him a question about his scooter. He answered me. The next pass I asked a question about scooters and school. He was even more animated in his response. The next coast down the drive, he asked me a question. I felt the energy change. I was forgiven for not being perfect, for being strict. We hugged at bedtime and had our goodnight talk. All was well.

So, what is the point of sharing these experiences that cast me in a less than stellar light? I am not perfect, and neither are you. I am not always as fun as I would like to be. Sometimes I forget to be the grownup. Sometimes I forget to take breaks and I get too tired. Often, I forget to ask for help with the load. The point is that you will be working on becoming a better parent and grandparent your whole life!

Not Being Perfect Doesn’t Erase the GREAT!

I had interesting bedtime talks with these three little people. I made a huge difference in my daughter’s workload and home. I was great to do chores with. I made them short, quick, and fun. Tessa and I shared quite a few laughs. Elliott, Gus, and I took some great walks. We chatted as we went. I baked with them. I drew chalk pictures with them. We waded in the ocean and collected shells. I solved problems. I laughed with their friends. I sat through the new Minion movie and laughed at what they thought was funny. I helped set up 2 lemonade stands, one for boys and one for girls. I hunted for treasures with Gus. I helped build a fort and cheered them on as they played. I served snacks. : ) I made sure they were safe, fed, dressed and cleaned, hugged and kissed.

Each morning, regardless of the good or bad of the day before, my grands gave me hugs and kisses. We are friends. They think I am a great grandparent. I am not a failure as a grandmother to them despite my occasional strictness, my annoyance, or tiredness. I am a grandmother doing my best and for them, it is enough.

For a week in August and again in September, I will be with other grands while their mom has two surgeries. Most of it will be wonderful but we may have a moment because I am not perfect. But they will love me, and I will focus on the successes.

Parenting, as I said, is like being under a microscope, seeing all your strengths and weaknesses. Unfortunately, we tend to focus on our weaknesses and forget about our strengths.

I have a lot of strengths and I no longer beat myself up over my weaknesses but instead remember that anything can be changed. I am still alive and that means there is time for growth and that while I am working on whatever isn’t quite right yet, I need to celebrate what is. And so do you!!

Doing that one small thing, celebrating your successes and growth, will ultimately move you forward –

Not toward being a perfect parent, but a parent worth loving and emulating.

 

Let the Gifts You Have Mastered Count

Yesterday, after an hour’s drive, I spent the day helping a friend clean and organize her garage. Wow, it was a hot day, punctuated by a downpour, in the afternoon. I got to work with her sons which was a treat. They did good. : )

At one point, my friend asked me if I ever got tired of being called on to clean and organize other people’s messes. Fair question. She felt bad for asking me to help her. But I responded with this. “Would you feel bad asking if I played the flute? Would you ask me to play at a funeral, a wedding, or in a parade? Would you be hesitant to ask? No, because it would be my talent. What I do is no less a talent, and I am glad to share it when possible. What I do isn’t any less valuable, just less showy. So, when asked, I use my talent to clean and organize.”

I have thought a lot about this conversation. Here it is in a nutshell. I am excellent at three things that make me a superior organizer and cleaner: consistency, focus, and a sense of order. I can’t take any credit for these three things. I was born with them. I know you will want to argue this point, but I have lived in my skin for over seven decades. I was this way as a small child. I was born with these gifts. I can’t take credit.

Here is what I can take credit for.

I practiced every day, for decades. Sometimes I did better than others but over time, I became a master. I can take credit for that.

That is how talents are. We have a natural propensity for something – fishing, dance, playing an instrument, comedy, gymnastics, football, cleaning and organizing, planning, listening to another’s grief, gardening, cooking, caring for the old or ill, connecting with children, the list is endless. Some take this natural gift, and they use it regularly, they practice, and they become masters. Others don’t and although they have a gift, they don’t become masters.

Case in point

I was a very talented dancer. I thought about going to Europe to study. I read books about dance, and I danced my little heart out. One of my teachers said I was gifted, and I was. I could have pursued this goal. However, I discovered that as good as I was, it wasn’t the thing I valued most. So, I let it go and I’m glad I did. In dancing’s place, I have a family of seven accomplished children. I have a marriage that is filled with love after 51 hard and sometimes brutal years. I have learned much about charity, humility, and a generousness of spirit. It has been these other things that I pursued that have led me here, to who I am today.

What natural gift have you honed? Look closely. If you think you have let your life slip away and that you haven’t pursued your dreams, look again. What gift have you perfected over the years that serves you and others and feels more valuable than what you let go of? Celebrate that! Stop feeling like a failure.

I am a success. I change people’s lives; not in a way I thought I might, decades ago, but in the way that has lifted me and others, that has changed me and deepened my soul.

Let the gifts that you have devoted a lifetime to perfecting count!