Sometime during the 1960’s David’s grandfather, Reveau Stewart, bought a piece of lakefront property for $650. Since he was a skilled carpenter and craftsman, he built a small vacation house for himself and his family of nine. Today it is the focal point, and gathering location for the Stewart family. This past Fourth of July there were approximately 25 people staying at the lake house, all of whom were closely related. The love, joy, fellowship and connections that are shared during these big grand weekends is only eclipsed by the large amount of food that is also shared (8 loaves of bread, 10 pounds of lunch meat, 3 chocolate cakes, etc).
Lucy & Max with their cousins
As the sun sank behind the lake and everybody nestled onto blankets or lawn chairs to watch the fireworks I looked at my children. My kids who were dark skinned from a week of swimming in the lake. My kids who were covered in a sticky combination of sun screen, popsicle, and sand. My sweet children who will grow up being surrounded by a family that reaches as wide as it does deep. And as the fireworks blasted in the sky and Max burst from his mouth; “AWESOME DUDE!” I thought this is what America is all about and it is indeed awesome.
Parenting is the kind of job that places relentless demands on a person. You are never “off-duty”. The duty may change, the needs alter, but the job is forever. FOR-EVER (yes, you young teenagers who are having sex I’m talking to you!) When you have small children, like I do, the demands are physical. You go years with little or poor sleep. You are on constant alert to help with potty needs, help to get clothes on, in and out of cars, across the street, food to eat, etc, etc. You become a servant whose only job is to attend the little selfish pixies that inhabit your home. Some days you don’t mind, but many times you find yourself mildly resenting that nobody does those things for you. Why doesn’t somebody get up and make ME breakfast? Why doesn’t somebody think to wash MY clothes? Why don’t I get to sit around and do the things I want to do all day long?
And then last week my mother-in-law (who will forever be known as Saint Nana) took my children. I was once again alone and at home. I had longed for this moment. I counted down until my children would be out of the house and I could relish in the silence and solitude of my own home. The moment that I had yearned for arrived and I was going to wallow in the beauty of not serving or helping a single person but myself.
By Wednesday I discovered that without my children my life is selfish and lacks purpose. The whole reason why I had kids was because I was sick of thinking about myself and I was ready to take care of another person. I wanted the opportunity to introduce a new person to this great world and help them see and experience it’s wonders. I wanted to care for another person, serve another person, love another person and without them I’m a selfish turd. I hated it. It was nice to sleep in, until you realize that the reason why is because you have no reason to wake up.
I’m grateful for the time David and I had to reconnect as a couple and it was truly a gift. However, I’m more appreciative of having the opportunity to rediscover why I became a mother in the first place.
I’m busy reading. I love to read and my addiction to reading and books has been well documented. I’m currently in the throws of “The Time Traveler’s Wife” a love story recommended to me by my sister-in-law. I’ve read 400 pages in two days. That is how I operate, and with the kids at camp there is no reason for me to do anything else. Oh, I suppose I could do the dishes, laundry, sort the kid’s toys, etc but why do the chores that I could do every day, when there is such a book to read? I haven’t finished the book, but I can already tell you that I love this book. It is complex. I am in awe of Audrey Niffenegger and her ability to plan and organize such a big, long story. It is rather sexually explicit at times (for those of you who prefer more G-rated fare) but the depth of these characters are rich. It has made me want to simultaneously cling to David and celebrate in my fortune of finding my own soul mate in life. You cannot tell the story of two lives intertwined, like Niffenegger has, without touching on the anguish, ecstasy, pain and unconditional love that comes with such a relationship.
I’m saying all this to let you know that I’m too busy reading to write a post.
As I sat on the couch watching the Sunday morning news a commercial came on promoting a non-profit organization that was working to encourage kids to enroll in more math and science programs. It occurred to me, why are we always encouraging kids to study math and science and yet nobody is encouraging students to study English? Why? (caution I am now climbing on my soapbox). Everybody is fascinated by Bill Gates or Steve Jobs, but if these gentlemen opened their mouth’s and said, “y’know, dude, it’s like, uh, a thing, that does stuff that like, lets you write junk and, uh, you can then like, send it to people, y’know? and then people like get it, and like uh, read it…” Would their companies be as successful? The truth is that nobody thinks of the importance of writing or speaking properly until they see or hear somebody do it wrong and then that person is left vulnerable. Nobody is there when their resume is read in the HR office and then laughed at because the basic grammar and speech patterns are so horrendous. Every administrator or politician talks about the importance of reading and writing and yet, when the money gets passed around the first place it goes is to pay for more computers, science equipment, etc. It is not spent on writing centers, books, and other reading and writing tools that are essential for success.
When I decided to major in English the only career option presented to me was teaching. I was NOT an education major. I refused. I worked in online media for ten years and used my degree every day. As a project manager I wrote status reports, communicated with clients, but most importantly I was able to take large complex problems and break them down into smaller pieces. After all that is what you do when you read a book. You look at the whole, understand it, look for patterns, examine it’s components, see the connections and than communicate those relationships to other people. When you put together an ad campaign or a website it is the same process. Studying English teaches you how to identify the undefined problem and then how to think about the problem so you can find a solution. Wouldn’t we be a better country, a better society if we had more creative problem solvers? And how do you teach creative problem solving? You give them Walt Whitman to read, and Ernest Hemingway, Shakespeare, Dickens, et al.
And yet, when we think about encouraging education, and student learning, we think about math scores, science scores and how we get more kids enrolled in math and science. Our students will never appreciate the value of writing, reading and speaking properly if the adults reponsible for funding their education don’t start valuing it first. Why are these most important skills so frequently discounted and treated like second class citizens in the education field? A child will never be a good scientist if he can’t successfully read or learn the basics of reasearch and have the ability to document his findings. I fully appreciate the value of math and science and I am not discounting their imprtance in our society, but I also don’t feel that they are superior to reading and writing.
In three days both of my children will be leaving for “Nana Camp”. This is an annual event in the Morley family when my mother-in-law takes all of her grandchildren over 3 years old and hosts them for a week. During this time the kids revel in eating ice cream and pizza at every meal, swimming until they collapse, not bathing, not eating vegetables and basically being allowed to do whatever they want. It is truly a child’s paradise and I’m lucky to have such a mother-in-law. The last two years Lucy has been old enough to go but not Max. Although this was very sad for Max, I was glad to have one “little chick” at home. Alas, this is the year that both will leave me.
I’m thrilled.
I’m sad.
I’m overwhelmed.
I’m excited.
I feel like I’ve been counting down to this moment since Max was born and yet now that it is here I’m feeling less sure. What will my house be like without my kids? I’m going to come home from class to what? Silence. The last time my house was totally silent was the moment before I woke David up to drive me to the hospital for Lucy’s birth. Part of me has visions of being this super-productive person who organizes closets, cleans under the kitchen table, and finishes up the kid’s baby books. But instead I fear I will be unfocused and unsure of what to do with my body. Without my children will my day lack all structure and direction? And is that something that I should worry about?
I lived alone once. I have the pictures to prove it. A small 680 square foot apartment with one bedroom and a fireplace. It was smartly decorated, spotlessly clean, and every inch was a reflection of me. Now, I live in a 2,000 square foot house that holds the footprint and reflection of a family – husband, kids, in-laws, friends, etc. I don’t know how to exist alone in this space. This is a space no longer intended for one person. How will it feel to have a glimpse backwards to a life that I no longer have and no longer want?
As of now I’m going to focus on how lovely it will be to sleep in, go to a movie with my husband, eat out, cook breakfast for MYSELF, and take a shower without an audience. On second thought, ignore everything I just said.
I decided to comment on the latest Momversation which is actually about Dads. I loved the video they did and since the Momversation people are never going to call me I thought I’d do my own video response. Check me out live:
My mother is a frugal woman and she is very proud of her ability to always save for things that are important to her. If she wanted a new refrigerator she would take an envelope, write “new fridge” on the front, and every month she would add a little money to it. It is not a fancy system but it worked for my mother and she has saved and purchased everything from trips to Europe to new cars. From the time I was a small child I can remember my mother doing this, and encouraging me to do the same. When I was twelve years old I saved my babysitting money so I could buy my own phone for my bedroom. It was a simple, white, princess phone and it cost $20, but I paid for it and it was in MY room; lesson learned.
I am now a mother who is raising children in the age of entitlement. Everywhere I turn I see kids who feel that they are “owed” certain privileges and possessions. They expect their parents to buy them a car, cell phones, clothes, trips, etc. I want to empower my children with the knowledge of hard work and the wisdom of saving. I want them to feel the pride that can only come from having saved, scraped and sacrificed for something you desire. Let me introduce you to “The Jar”.
Our old cookie jar is storing more than cookies
I sat down with the kids several weeks ago and had the following conversation:
Me: Okay, we want to go to Disney World when Max is 5. So, we need to start saving money now so we have enough. Mommy is going to put this jar here. Every time we get some extra money we are ALL going to put it in the jar and before we know it we will have the money to go.
Lucy: Can I put in my piggy bank money?
Me: That is your decision. It is your money
Lucy: I want to put in my money. (she retrieves her bank and empties it into the jar). Max, do you want to put your bank money in here too?
Max: YEAH!! ( they get his bank and empty it into the jar)
Me: okay, that is great! I’m really proud of you. Now, we need to think about things we can sell and other ways we can make extra money.
This has caused Lucy to think of different chores she can do in order to earn “Disney dollars”. Her list includes things like; learn to tie her own shoes, sleep in her own bed all night, clean the playroom, and be nice to Max. David and I spent the weekend selling things on Craig’s List (which I love) and letting the kids take the cash and put it into the jar. By the end of the first weekend the jar had over $200.
Previously if the kids found change loose in the house they would fight over whose bank it was going to go into, but now they both rush to put it into the jar. It is not about what “I” want to buy, but what we can do together as a family.
I realize now, as an adult, that the responsible behavior my parents exhibited has left an indelible mark on me. Many people today struggle with the idea of how to save, but for my mother it was always so simple; just a little bit, every month. And so it will be for my children too.
This weekend you learned to use the potty. I realize that as a teenager you will be sufficiently horrified that I felt it necessary to tell the whole world about this milestone, but I have a reason. You, my dear son, do not like to do new things. You like going to new places, you like new people, and you like new food. You do not, however, like doing any activity that isn’t forced, required or outside of your comfort zone.
You were 15 months old before you started walking because you deemed it unnecessary. After all, you were a mighty fine crawler and it seemed silly to rock the boat. You only recently would even go into the water to THINK about swimming and that is because I FORCED you to swim with me. You cried. You screamed. You then realized it wasn’t so bad. This is the same process I used to potty train you. After waiting a ridiculous amount of time for you to “naturally” be ready to use the toilet I woke up Saturday and said to myself; “today is the day”! I proudly announced to you that there would be no more diapers or pull-ups. You could wear underwear or go naked and I didn’t care if you cried, which you did. You cried some more and then Daddy showed you how to pee standing up and all was right in the world. You now proudly acknowledge that you “love” underwear. Really? Because less than 24 hours ago you were throwing a temper tantrum that you hated underwear and you were NEVER going to wear it.
While your sister finds comfort in visiting the same places with the same people, you find comfort in wearing the same clothes and doing the same activities. You are still wearing t-shirts from over a year ago because you refuse to wear any of the new shirts I buy you. You won’t wear long pants but instead, insist on wearing “tiny pants” (otherwise known as shorts). It is not the routine of the day that comforts you, but the knowledge that you have control over certain aspects of your life. Every child is different and I’m realizing that you need to be pushed at different times, at different stages than your sister. Lucy fears change – you just don’t want to put the energy into adapting.
Consider this a warning, cuz boy, I’m on to your game.
