My husband is a brilliant man. Very knowledgeable. About many things. I don’t say that to brag, rather to highlight his ability to answer our kids’ questions in many areas, including obscure historical facts and tidbits. But when it comes to math? He’s not their go to person. I am.
And I have to admit…it feels pretty darn good.
Sometimes I feel pretty inadequate when I don’t know the answers to questions about Greek mythology (was never a passion of mine) or ancient Rome (ditto).
But math? I love math. I tutored Calculus in college. I probably should have majored in Applied Mathematics. It’s exciting to me. Magical. Actually, I’ve been known to lecture the kids about the magic of math and to do so with a sparkle in my eyes and a smile on my face.
And you know what? My kids love math. I don’t mean to be smug; I mean, I’m not giving myself all the credit for that fact. But I bet it doesn’t hurt that I can get pretty excited about thePythagorean Theorem . Or that I’ve told them about the navy t-shirt (I even remember the color) I used to have when I was around ten with a sketch on it that looked something like this:
Yeah, I’ve always loved math. In fact, when I was around my daughter’s age, special time with my dad consisted of his teaching me about the Base 10 system and slide rules . Woohoo!
So…why not celebrate it? I don’t shove it in their faces or insist that they learn about the slide rule before ever using a calculator (which is what my dad did with me). But they’re well aware of my passion for math. And they don’t hesitate to come to me with any questions that arise as they tackle daily homework.
Last year around Mother’s Day, I heard someone say that mothers are closest to their children when they’re in the womb. From the moment they’re born we’re slowly letting them go. I agree. When they’re babies they need our help; but year by year they grow more independent. By the time they get to school, it’s best to let them do their own thing and learn what they’re there to learn. Even if those lessons are painful. Or when we know they may fail.
School projects come to mind as a great example. I know so many parents who just don’t want to let go of their kids. They want to help. So they start out just observing, then they help a little, then a little more then a little more and before you know it, they’ve done a majority of the work. I think that’s unfortunate.
Kids should do their own school projects.
Last year, I walked into my son’s classroom and saw a beautiful display with so much detail and intricate handiwork, I immediately knew no third grader made it. I hadn’t helped my son at all, so immediately I felt guilty. I pulled another mom over and sheepishly asked, “Were we supposed to help do these projects?” She looked stunned (yet impressed) by the professional looking display before us. She muttered, “Noooo” as she continued to check out the board. I felt first confused and then annoyed.
What’s the point of someone’s mother doing a third grade project? Why would a parent feel compelled to take over for her child? Does she fear the kid might fail without her help? Does she think the kid just isn’t doing it right (i.e., the way the parent would do it if it were his/her project?)? How can the kid learn anything if the parent takes over and does everything for him? Isn’t there something to be said for the child’s learning experience?
I know it’s tempting. Heck, I was the worst offender when my son was a bit younger. Whenever he felt a twinge of frustration, I was the mom who would jump in and say, “Oh, here sweetie, let me do that for you” and actually think I was helping him. Now, years later, I see how that kind of rescuing behavior only makes the kid feel incompetent. It must be pretty demoralizing to think you need your mom to come and do everything for you. That over-protectiveness simply has to change at some point. The sooner the better (within reason).
It’s sometimes tricky to find the line. How much help is enough without being too much?
As parents, we’re effectively training our children to be the best adults they can be. As each year passes, we hope to pass on more and more tools for life. I know parents who taught their kids to do their own laundry when they were in third grade. Many other parents teach their kids how to cook so that they’ll be able to handle living on their own. Their rationale? We can’t expect them to go off to college knowing how to live independently if we haven’t given them adequate guidance. And we can’t sit down two weeks before they’re ready to leave and say, “Okay, junior, here’s what you’ll need to know when you get there.” So we give it to them piecemeal. Little by little, step by step. They learn to walk before they can run. They learn to chop vegetables before they make a stew.
And sometimes you let them fall so that they know they’ll survive the many pains of life but also so they know that they can do it. So that they can feel confident
And, if you accept the idea that we’re training them for life, then how can you justify taking over a job that has been assigned to someone else? I mean, when they’re in their 20s, I’m not about to go to their places of business and run their meetings. But we shouldn’t be completely hands off either.
So here’s the policy in our house: hubs and I will buy any necessary materials, maybe even advise on which materials might work best or make suggestions but that’s it. We encourage the kids and guide them but we also make sure that they take ownership of the task. And we follow up by asking what they learned by doing the project (because that is the point after all).
And you know what? It’s made a huge difference!
When parents give their children sufficient guidance and freedom to let their imaginations soar (without imposing their own viewpoints or worse, taking over entire projects) we give our kids the confidence and self satisfaction that helps them grow into secure, assertive adults.
I remember a few years back when my son hated going to the grocery store. He used to get really cranky and made it known that he would’ve preferred to be anywhere else. But I made it clear that we had to get food and we had to do it at that allotted time. I explained to him, "Look, it is what it is. We’re here at the store and we have to be here at the store. You can suffer through it and whine, moan, complain and wish you were anywhere else but here, or you can choose to make it a fun experience. I guarantee that if you choose that first option, this experience will feel like it’s taking three hours and you’ll dislike nearly every moment. However, if you choose the second option, I’ll bet we can find a way to make it fun. How about if you help me find some of the items on the shelves and put them in the cart. You can even toss a few things into it. What do you say?" He chose the second option and when we came out of that store, he was beaming. We had a great time.
Now I use that experience as a touchstone when we are in other situations that are not particularly fun for him. Or even when he has a challenging school project — I remind him that it’s his choice to either go through the experience filled with dread or to find a way to make it through (or maybe even make it fun), then come out the other side and look forward to the moment when he can do something that he wants to do.
His first grade teacher used to say, "Do your have -tos before your want -tos."
Sometimes … many times … we have to do things that we’d rather not do. But, the more we accept the present moment, face it (better yet, enjoy it) — no matter how much it scares us or how much discomfort it brings us — the better off we’ll be.
No matter which decade of my life I’m in (or nearing), I always want to take time out to play. When I play a great game with the kids, play tennis, work out, shoot hoops, or just walk the dog, I feel better physically and am usually in a better mood. My tolerance level rises and, overall, I’m better able to handle challenges that come my way.
My daughter is entering middle school in the fall. Recently, to begin what is sure to be a memorable journey, I went to the first middle school meeting. Principals gave overviews of courses and logistics, the students selected electives, and counselors shared a few thoughts.
I’ve heard other parents say fairly dreadful things about middle school, but I didn’t pay much attention to the details. It seemed so far away. At this meeting, though, I was ready. In fact, I was eager to go and hear what they had to say. I wanted to get some sense of what to expect, so I spoke with some parents who have older kids (and have been through this already).
Here’s what I heard:
“Oh, it’s such a tough time for kids.”
“I’m glad I’m not the one who’s the student.”
“There’s no tougher time for a kid than when they suffer through middle school.”
“Oooo. Are you worried??”
Well, I wasn’t . Until now…
The administrators showed a video produced by some of the older middle school kids, depicting a typical day in the life of middle schoolers. It included a boy shoving another boy into a locker, kids looking self conscious and insecure and adults looking geeky. DD looked surprised but a little excited intrigued.
We were also treated to some insight from the principal. It went something like this:
Every year during the first week of middle school, I get a call from a frazzled parent telling me that his/her child didn’t come home from school. And I tell them the same thing every year. Johnny is fine. He went to a friend’s house and forgot to tell you. He can do that now. He’ll be gone for hours and then finally remember to tell you that he’s over at Jimmy’s house. Don’t worry about it. Kids have a lot more freedom in this place. Get used to it.
Hmm. Okay. Right. Got it.
The trouble is…she still seems like a little girl to me. I know I need to let go. I know she’s going to change significantly in these next few years. I have to let go. Loosen the reins a bit. But…this step feels like one of the toughest.
We’ve developed a wonderful relationship, where we can talk about anything. She feels comfortable telling me when I’m giving her too much information about an “adult” topic. We have lunch and laugh together and it seems as if she’s feels like she’s 22 yet she’ll still grab my hand and hold it as we stroll down the street.
I know it’s a time of transition. I can’t help but be a bit uneasy about what kind of effect the next two years will have on us. Will she become more attached to her friends and teachers and further removed from us? Will she regard advice from others more highly than our words of wisdom? Will she look at me differently? How different will she look?
When I mentioned to many of my friends that we were spending spring break in San Francisco, I was met with quizzical, curious gazes and statements like these: “Oh, well, now that’s interesting. Let me know how it goes.” Okay. Sure.
We started with a relatively painless plane ride to sunny CA. My son was lucky enough to snag the window seat, so he took a photo of the clouds.
Flying with school aged kids is really not bad at all. You’re past the baby stage, when you’re wondering whether you’ll get evil stares from judgmental, intolerant passengers if your baby makes so much as a peep. You’re also past that toddler/little kid stage where you need to have snacks, beverages, toys and books ready to go to entertain the little people and you have to worry about bathroom breaks. I’m happy to say that, by this age, they can entertain themselves (especially with today’s cool technology gadgets and in-flight movies). They downloaded very different selections (DS - football highlights, DD - Suite Life of Zack & Cody episodes) but so what? Whatever makes ‘em happy. Here’s a view of DS’s tray table:
(DS took this photo, too). It shows his mini Munny that he created during the flight as well as a few other items that kept him busy.
DD, meanwhile, was fascinated by her soda can:
When we finally arrived, you’d think I’d be most interested in this
or this.
But what really got my attention was the food. It’s so darn good in California. They have things like this
and this
and this
and this.
Mmmmm…I can taste it right now. It’s one of the best reasons to visit that state.
You can also find interesting things to buy, like this bag made out of seatbelts from a 1950s Buick
(okay, sure, you can get it online, too, but I didn’t know it existed until I saw it in CA).
For your techy, playful side, they also have cool places like Zeum (an arts and technology museum), The Tech (museum of innovation) and Exploratorium (a hands-on science museum). At Zeum, the kids made a claymation movie, where they made clay characters then used one of the museum’s existing sets, cameras and computer programs to create a short movie. The Zeum folks give you a DVD of your movie to take home, too! You can also record your own CD (using a teleprompter and microphone) or appear in a toothpaste commercial (which also records to a DVD for you to take with you, with a suggested donation of $5). It’s a nonprofit museum in the middle of San Francisco that’s worth an afternoon of your time.
We were disappointed by a place that our (apparently outdated) guidebook referred to as “heaven for tweens” called Metreon which is basically just a building that houses a movie theater, restaurants and an arcade. Don’t bother.
If your kids like computers, I recommend a 40 minute drive to an out of the way place called The Tech, which is in San Jose/Silicon Valley. The Tech is another science/technology kind of place. You can do funky things like take a picture of your head then play with the image on a computer, making it look as if it were made out of brick, concrete, wire, and more. Fascinating! Other activities included designing a bicycle, creating a computer roller coaster (and then going for a simulated ride on it!), experiencing a simulated earthquake and reading from a teleprompter to record (what sort of seems like) a speech on the floor of Congress.
Superimpose your face into a floating spacesuit.
Back in San Francisco, Exploratoriumwas a blast, particularly their new exhibit called The Mind where older kids can manipulate all kinds of contraptions while learning more about perceptions, causal relationships and physics. My favorite was The Tactile Dome, which is basically a maze that you crawl through in complete blackness (it’d be quite scary for most little kids, so the museum sets a minimum age requirement of seven).
My whole family loved this adventure. It was definitely the highlight of this museum. Well, that’s if you don’t include the toilet drinking fountain.
Would you take a drink?
Kids of a certain age, though, will always be drawn to playgrounds. No matter where you go on vacation. Sure enough, DS’s face lit up like a CFL when he saw the playground near Zeum. After spending a good chunk of time there, he concluded, “This is the best playground I’ve ever seen!”
So, even if your kids are just not interested in museums, you can take them to this playground and they’re sure to have a blast. It has that squishy rubber base that somehow makes it feel more cozy and safe. The slide is fast (good design, no doubt) but best utilized with long pants.
There you have it. A fantastic family vacation in San Francisco! And really, I have to say it was my favorite trip yet.
When I was fifteen, I was called to the principal’s office, clueless about why I was summoned. I was a good student, involved in more extracurricular activities than your average kid and never looked for trouble. So why was I going to the office? When I arrived, they redirected me into my guidance counselor’s office. “Okay, this is really strange,” I thought. When I noticed that my sister was already there, I probably should have been worried, but I actually relaxed a bit. We were both on the Student Council, so I figured it probably had something to do with an upcoming activity. But when I saw the look on Mr. Smith’s face, I immediately started to tense up. Kids have a way of quickly recognizing discomfort in adults. Something was definitely wrong.
He stumbled over his words. Not only was he uncomfortable, he seemed sad about whatever he was trying to say. Finally, the words fell out like hand grenades. “Your dad…he’s in the hospital…we need to take you over there…right away.”
Now I was numb. Before that moment, life was pretty simple. We rushed around from activity to activity, performed in skating shows, went to basketball games, did our homework, yada yada, but I knew, right at that very moment, that everything was about to change. Drastically.
I don’t remember the drive over to the hospital. The next moment I was walking into his hospital room. He looked weak and pale. I’d never seen him like that. I had no experience with this kind of situation, so I had no idea what to say or do.
The entire week seemed to float by me as if in a dream. I hoped and prayed that I was dreaming, but it was all very real. When you’re fifteen, every little incident at school seems like a meeting at the UN, but, when tragedy strikes, it all disappears in an instant. I don’t remember a single thing about school from that last week in February so many years ago. I just remember the hospital.
The experience felt light, as if it floated on a cloud, yet my mind felt heavy, as if I were trudging through sludge. In some ways, that week felt like a year, yet, looking back on it, it seems like an instant.
The doctors told us that, if heart attack victims hang on for six days after the episode, some large percentage of them survive. As the days turned to night, I kept hoping and praying. “Great! Another day! He’s almost at six.” On the sixth day, the hospital staff told my mom that it would be best if I stayed home, because I had a cough and might compromise him in some way. It was a day that I would play over and over in my mind for years to come. I planned an elaborate visit for the seventh day. I would wear a mask to avoid getting any germs on him. I would come in with a clipboard, pretending to be a doctor. Those things would never come to pass.
On that long sixth day, Mom called from the hospital and assured me that he seemed to be doing better. Later, when a colleague of my dad’s called from his office, I remember telling him, with great hope, “Oh, he’s doing better. They think he’ll be coming home soon!” I’ll never understand why adults ever feel the need to reassure kids by lying to them or withholding the truth. He died that night – the night of the sixth day.
Being the youngest in my family, you’d think that relatives would have looked after me, handled me with kid gloves (just as they thought they were doing when they didn’t reveal the truth about his condition). Instead, I was asked to handle some of the more adult level tasks. For example, someone had to call my eldest sister, who had returned to college (because she, too, believed he was getting better), to give her the news.
I remember that moment so vividly. This was a time before cell phones, a time when you put dimes and quarters into pay-phones. Without hesitation I strode over to the row of phone booths and inserted my coins. I didn’t reach her right away. Her boyfriend answered the phone and gave me another number where I could reach her. When I finally heard her voice, I was nearly speechless. I dug deep to find the courage to spit out the words, “Sis, he’s gone.” No response. “He’s not here anymore.” Silence. “He died.”
Sometimes, when I look back on that time, I still can’t believe that I was the one who had to deliver the news.
The next few weeks went by in a blur. I remember going shopping (!?) with my sister. We had to find something to wear to the funeral. Why nothing in our existing wardrobe would suffice is beyond me. I really have no idea what inspired us to go to the mall, but we did. Even more curious, though, was the fact that we bought white clothes, not black…white. I chose a white skirt and a soft, short sleeved blue blouse with little flowers. I don’t remember what my sister wore, but I know it was white.
Another curious fact? I never cried. One of my closest friends broke down and cried and even asked me, “Don’t you feel like crying?” I didn’t.
I simply didn’t know what to do or how to grieve. I yearned for a book or a person with expertise to tell me what was happening, to explain how I should act, to describe how I should feel. I’ve never felt so lost and confused.
It’s been nearly three decades…three decades (!) now. That’s so hard to believe. The first decade or so, I dreaded the month of February. I wore black more often during the month and always on the day of his death. As more years have passed (and I’ve experienced more losses), I finally know how terribly important it is to go through a process of grieving. Sure, everyone goes through it in her own way and at her own pace, but we all need to go through it.
Today, there are plenty of books about death and dying, both for adults and kids. Anytime I hear about someone dying and I know that there are kids involved, I advise the relatives to get some books for the kids. At the very least, give them something to read to help them believe that they will make it through this awful time. Help them to see that there is a light at the end of this dark, foreboding tunnel. Help them to comprehend that many kids erroneously believe it’s somehow their fault – but it’s not.
Nearly three decades have passed. I never knew my father as anything more than a dad. He never knew me as anything more than a child. He wasn’t there to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, to congratulate me when I earned my degrees, to hold my kids when they were babies, or see them grow into the lively kids they are now. Sure, I’m sad about that. But you know what? His death made me the person I am today. I didn’t comprehend that for, I don’t know, the first couple of decades or so, but I believe it now. I would have been a different person if he had survived. His death made me more determined to excel, to make him proud (wherever he is), to live a healthy life, and, most of all, to enjoy each moment – because you just never know which one will be your last.
So…thanks, Dad. I only knew you for a little over a decade, but you taught me so much. And…wherever you are…I hope you know…I love you…still.
Do you believe that there are people who bake and people who cook but very few who do both?
I love to bake. Brownies, cakes, any kind of dessert. Give me a recipe and I’ll follow it meticulously (and make something that comes pretty close to the desired result). I just follow the recipe.
But cooking? As in, look in the pantry and the fridge and make something for dinner, drawing only from your experience and creativity? I’m in awe of people who can do that. It’s so foreign to me, that it’s like another world. I’m amazed by people who can throw together food and spices and make something delicious, just because they know what should go with what. I wish I could do that.
In fact, when I stopped working to stay home with my kids full time, I looked at the dinner hour like it was that giant Basilisk in Harry Potter.
Dinner was something I had to tackle, to take on, to conquer. Years later, I would still shudder when the kids grew old enough to ask, “Mom, what’s for dinner?” Ugh.
I’ve taken several different approaches to the dinnertime challenge over the years. I went through a phase where I was inspired by some of my friends (who are all great cooks) and actually spent hours poring over cookbooks and surfing the web, selecting recipes and making grocery lists, spent another hour or two going around to various stores to get all the ingredients, then made a schedule for all of it (what to cook when, with what, and which item to prepare first). Monday through Friday, I’d spend a good chunk of time making different meals and, night after night, I’d face lukewarm (if that) reactions from my kids.
It didn’t take long for me to figure out that I was trying way too hard. I felt discouraged and rejected. I’d expended all that effort and nobody even enjoyed the food. I soon stopped the planned menus, but I pulled back a little too far and started to rely on take-out food, mac & cheese, and pizza.
Then a friend told me about these assemble-your-own-dinnersplacesthat are popping up all over the country. Have you been to one of these? The idea is that you choose 6 or 8 or a dozen entrees, select the date and time you want to come in to their store, pay for it all in advance, then go in on your chosen day, assemble the ingredients, take it all home in a cooler, store the entrees in your freezer and cook each of them whenever you choose.
I went to a few of these pseudo kitchens several times, but my family quickly tired of the food and insisted they would rather “just have something simple.”
Okay…simple is good. I turned to the internet to look for “simple” recipes, then decided I would stick to basic, basic food (like grilling up some chicken, making mashed potatoes and sauteeing some green beans). But…each week I would make one special dinner. One week my son would choose, the next would be my daughter’s turn.
I had the kids write lists of the kinds of things they really liked to eat. My son wrote that he would be happy if we could alternate days of burgers and pizza. Uh huh. Well, that would not work for the rest of us — most of whom don’t like eating meat and some of whom don’t like pizza. I explained how the list was not like an order form. I wasn’t going to make whatever they wrote on the lists. Rather, I would occasionally make their favorites. The rest of the time would be standard fare, like tacos, chicken, pasta, and quesadillas with soup.
When the time came to make the burgers, I hesitated. I don’t like eating burgers at all (haven’t had one in probably about 15 years) and, for some reason, I don’t even like to make them. When I have tried to make them, they’re just not that good. I’m so lousy at just throwing things together (which is why I relied on the recipes from cookbooks & websites and, when that failed, had to turn to take out and those pseudo kitchens). I was operating at the extremes. I went from knocking myself out with dinnertimes that were overly elaborate (or way too labor intensive) to ordering pizza.
So I turned to the web. It’s known as a place that’s great for recipes of all types, right? I wondered whether I could find simple, everyday recipes and somehow make dinner more enjoyable for all of us. I found many blogsthattalked about food, some that simplified cooking (a little too much, perhaps), many that captured images of food in gorgeous pictures, and many that offered fantastic, healthy recipes.
And I found a site called Hot Moms Cook — everyday moms (who happen to be gorgeous!) making everyday food and sharing some of their kid friendly recipes.
I spotted their recipe for Burger Bites. My kids have always like food that looks good and are especially fond of diminutive food, so these little burgers seemed promising.
Generally speaking, I’ve had pretty good success when I do interesting things with the presentation of the kids’ food — I’m talking about simple changes like blue food coloring in water — not elaborate things like making smiley faces into grilled breakfast meat like this one over at Pete’s place (how’d he do that?!) or making amazing pictures out of the foam in hot chocolate (as the baristas at coffeebars from Seattle, WA to Marblehead, MA are trained to do).
As an aside, for you coffee lovers out there, if you want to see a master in action, check this out:
Oh, how I wish I could do that…
But, back to the burgers. These little burgers looked cute and seemed fun to make.
The Hot Moms Cook recipe modifies a basic burger recipe. The teeny tiny buns are made from basic Pillsbury breadstick dough that you cut into little rectangles and, while they are baking, prep the meat to put it in the oven. Burgers? In an oven? Yes, but trust me, it works. You add a few things to the meat, then spread it out in a 9×13 pan. Bake it, add cheese at the end if the kids like it, then slice it up (quickly) and add the beefy rectangles to the bread rectangles and voila! a platter of burger bites. It might seem like more work than your average burger, but maybe you can get the kids to help. It’s worth it.
I’m telling you, the kids devoured these little gems and my son said, “Mom! This is the best thing you’ve ever made for us!” Even I ate them and they were delicious! Add some veggies with crinkly fries on the side or, for little kids, some of those smiley potatoes and you’re good to go.
If you haven’t visited Hot Moms Cook, go on over there for some new kid-friendly recipes. I’m feeling so grateful to have found them.
My time on the web helped me to see what “simple” means. Now I’m thinking that I’ll still use things like Epicurious, but only once in a while. Everyday dinners can be burger bites or chicken & mashed potatoes or spaghetti. I may never be a creative cook, but at least I can let go of the pressure and stress to make all those lists and spend all that time creating weekly balanced menus.
Great. Gives me more time to practice my latte art.
Kids bring joy to our lives in the most unexpected ways, don’t they?
I had planned to post the plain picture (above) for Wordless Wednesday, but when my daughter saw it, she insisted on adding a little i can has cheezburger kind of personality to it. If you haven’t yet seen that nutty, humorous, fantastic website, you just have to get over there and check it out! It’s always good for plenty of laughs (but you may want to look at the photos before your kids do…some of them can be a bit racy).
So…
Here’s the photo with a little help from her:
We hope it brings you a little joy today. Happy Wednesday!!
