"I gave you each other!"

This is what I say to my girls when the cries of "I'm bored!" or "I don't know what to play with!" get too annoying. "You have a sister to play with! I gave you each other!"

And actually, they're really good at playing with each other. I love hearing them have pretend tea parties and birthday parties, and run their little mom-and-pop general store outside, peddling in sticks and stones and dandelions. But sometimes it takes me refusing to pull out a board game or coloring book (or turn on a screen--grumble) to make them play by themselves. I think kids (mine especially, but I'm sure I'm not alone!) are getting too accustomed to having their days orchestrated by Mom and Dad, with activities and play dates, and the wide open spaces of children's play are getting limited.

I wrote about that for Vanderbilt's Wishing Well blog this month, starting with a typical scene in the Kelley house:


I was putting away the groceries one evening, overhearing the shrieks of my 3- and 6-year-old kids through the screen door as they played in the backyard. The baby was pulling snacks out of the bags on the floor, while I hurried to get frozen foods into the freezer after a way-too-slow, traffic-clogged drive home. My husband was, surprisingly, still not home, and despite all the food I’d just bought, I wasn’t quite sure what I would fix for dinner.

That’s when I heard the cries of my younger daughter from outside, rejecting her big sister’s efforts to push her on the swing, demanding that Mommy come push instead.

This is the sort of scenario when I, like most busy parents, usually feel a pang of guilt. Dinner can wait, right? A good mom would eagerly rush to her child’s side and push that swing, right? I should have been out there anyway, to make sure no one gets hurt or kidnapped, right?

I’m learning, however, to quiet that voice and remind myself that it’s okay for my kids to play by themselves sometimes. More than okay, actually. Essential.

Read the rest on Wishing Well...

Fighting the Battle against STUFF this Christmas

I often feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of STUFF in our house. For at least five years (my memory of life before kids is hazy) I have declared myself to be fighting a battle against all the stuff in my house. I confess, I usually call it the "War on Crap." But that sounds a little crass. Either way, by "stuff" or "crap," I'm not meaning to insult the quality of objects filling my house, much of which has been gifted to us—and increasingly, to our kids—by kind, generous, thoughtful people.

"Stuff" is the excess, the clutter, the unneeded and often unused things that fill our homes. Stuff doesn't just take up space, but energy as well as we maintain an increasingly cluttered space.

Judging from the number of articles I see to this effect on Facebook these days, and the response when I share them, I know I'm not alone. A lot of parents of young children feel this way. Kids aren't great at picking up after themselves, parents tire of picking up after them, and generous people are always eager to add to the collection of toys and other things, especially at Christmas. I've seen articles from the angle of how to purge the stuff once you have it, and I try to thin the herd as I can, but it's hard for me to part with things a loved one gave so kindly, and I'd rather find ways to free ourselves from the excess and consumerism in the first place, rather than enabling a "revolving door of stuff."

As one other mom asked me when I shared one such article, "how do you tell these generous people to dial it back a bit, without hurting their feelings?" I don't have a great answer. The time I've spent trying to get every word of this post right shows what a touchy issue it can be.

First rule of thumb, I don't say anything to the people outside our family (except on birthday invitations, when I've started saying "no gifts please"). I do tell my kids' grandmothers over and over how much the kids have already and how hard it is to keep the house neat with so much stuff, etc., but I also know how the giving of gifts is special for the giver as well as the receiver. So while I say, "Don't get them anything; they have enough!!" I know that is not realistic and that I need to make some reasonable suggestions.

Rather, I think suggesting alternatives to stuff-gifts is a good way to introduce new ways of gift-giving that kids love, parents can appreciate, and (in some cases) the giver can enjoy alongside the child. Things that won't wind up scattered all over the floor of their room—and every other room! Or, at the very least, bring a fun twist to things we need anyway.

So here is my list of non-stuff gifts one might consider this Christmas.

Experience Gifts

• passes to go roller skating or ice skating
• tickets to a kid-friendly concert, play, or sporting event
• restaurant date to a fun place like Rainforest Café or even a fast food place with a playground
• movie date with a big tub of popcorn
• gift card for an ice cream shop
• visit to a museum or science center
• registration for a season of soccer or a series of swim lessons
• subscription to ABCmouse.com or a magazine like Highlights
• ingredients for a recipe to make together
• seeds to plant and watch grow

Use-up-ables

• art supplies, bubbles, chalk
• supplies and instructions for a science experiment
• a fun food like the ingredients for s'mores or cookies the child can decorate
• stickers or temporary tattoos
• balloons
• a disposable camera
• a notebook and fun pen

Fun Necessities

• socks or tights with a fun pattern (even underwear if you're a close family member!)
• a light-up or character toothbrush
• lotion, body wash, or bubble bath
• hair accessories
• shoes or clothes
• room décor (a bulletin board, special pillow, or art for their wall)
• a cool box in which to house all their little "treasures"

And for the grown-ups...

• restaurant gift card
• gourmet food items (wine and cheese, a fancy dessert, etc.)
• free babysitting
• tickets to a concert, play, or sporting event
• mani/pedi gift card
• overnight at a hotel
• gift card for something they wouldn't ordinarily get for themselves

What do you get someone who already has too much?

Something they keep in their hearts and memories, not on their shelves.

Taking My Kids Off the Pedestal

I'm honored to be a contributor this year to Vanderbilt Children's Hospital's Children's Wishing Well blog. We've spent a lot of time at VCH this year with "Baby Girl Chandler" (AKA "BGC" on this blog), and though that isn't a prerequisite for contributing to Wishing Well, it has increased my knowledge of and appreciation for children's health care.

My first post is up on Wishing Well today, and in it, I share some thoughts about foster care that have been swimming around my heart and mind for quite a while. It felt really good to let it out. Though I didn't emphasize the religious basis of these thoughts in the published post, I'll say here that it all began with a book that I actually didn't even read.

I used to get a lot of review copies in my old job as editor of Circuit Rider and Ministry Matters, and (shocker) I didn’t have time to read them all, but I tried to give the appealing ones at least a little peek. That’s where I saw the line in Jennie Allen’s Anything that advocated praying a crazy prayer, that of offering God “anything.” Anything God wanted or needed from you, you offer that up. That is definitely a frightening thought, especially since my first thought was “my kids.” If I offer God anything, God might take my kids. That’s not a theologically sound thought, and I definitely don’t think God kills kids, takes anybody because he “needs another angel” or whatnot. That’s crazy. But as I weighed that crazy thought with the calling to foster care that I was already pondering—had been pondering for a while—I realized that, yes, in a way, answering God’s call would mean offering something of my kids.

The idea that opening our home to other children might mean my own children having less—less space, less attention, less of our disposable income, anything less than our undivided focus—I would be sacrificing something that my own privileged kids may take for granted. Not so much space and time and stuff, but their place on the pedestal of our family’s life.

This pedestal, all shiny white with Corinthian detail, has a plaque on it that says:

These children are special.

These children deserve the best of everything.

These children, by virtue of being born into a comparatively well-off family in a safe suburb, should be shielded from people not like us.

These children should not have to share the good things they have with those who have not.


To read the rest, go visit Children's Wishing Well.

Two and Three-Quarters

It's funny, when the moons of young childhood align . . . history catches up to itself . . . some other profound way to describe that time when one child hits the same age another one was at some significant point. (That's a thing, right? Anyone know what I'm talking about?) It's been like that for the last six months with Claire.

We moved back to Nashville, into our current house, when Kate was 2 1/4. Six months later, when Kate was 2 3/4, Claire was born. So that period of time when Kate was 2 1/4 to 2 3/4 is easily bookended in my mind. I remember setting up the playroom, playing on the old swingset in the backyard, and pulling the baby clothes out of the attic, all with my firstborn by my side. My firstborn who felt SO BIG!

Compared to her own baby self, two-year-old Kate seemed totally articulate! She can answer questions and string four or five words together to make a coherent thought! Then Claire comes along and I think, "What? At two, most strangers can't understand what my kid is saying. Heck, I can't understand every word she says!" At two, Kate seemed like a "big kid" to me. Not a squishy little baby like my Clairy still is, right?

Nope. Exhibit A. Squishy two-year-old Kate.

It's all a matter of perspective. Of course Kate seemed big, compared to only herself at a younger age! Of course Claire seems baby-like in the shadow of a big sister who seems SO BIG now, until I see her walking down that kindergarten hallway past a line of fourth-graders! Thinking of this in light of that birth order book I wrote about the other day, it's no wonder kids grow up differently. I expect Kate to be more mature and more responsible because she's the oldest. When Claire is five, eight-year-old Kate will still be more mature and responsible, so I'll expect more from her than I do Claire, who will seem so little at only 5 1/2! (What pressure for a firstborn kid! I better watch that!)

So Claire is now the age Kate was when she became a big sister. Claire became a big sister to BGC almost a year ago, so while we hope BGC can return to her parents one day, Claire already fills what (we hope) will be her ultimate middle-child position. And it suits her. She's not the baby of the house, and she's not the biggest, but she's cool with that and pretty much goes with the flow.

I love seeing how different Kate and Claire are—not just because of their ages and the perception warp that inevitably happens—but simply their natures (and maybe some of that birth order stuff as well). Here's my Clairy at two and three quarters:

• So good-natured. She has typical two-year-old tantrums, of course, when she doesn't get what she wants or we don't understand what she's saying, but her default mood is pretty even-keeled, cheerful, and agreeable. "O-tay!" is a pretty typical response when we ask her to do something.
• Only wants to wear dresses, wants her hair in "Elsa braid, "Anna braids," or "ponytail like Mommy."
• Loves to play Memory and do jigsaw puzzles, and she's really good at both! I say she's my "little scientist," being very precise and perceptive. She either doesn't grasp the idea of competition, or doesn't care, because she will happily point out to other players where the matching Memory cards are on their turn. (Kate encourages this when it's her turn, and scolds Claire when it's mine!)
• Still Kate's little shadow. Those girls are inseparable, and Claire follows Kate's lead to a T. She often repeats Kate's words and actions with barely one second's delay. Can be persuaded to do almost anything if it's "like Kate."
• That said, she is starting to assert herself a little more against Kate's assumption that she can walk all over her doting sister! She'll tell Kate "Stop that right now!" and is quick to play the innocent-baby-sister card, screaming if Kate offends her in some way that may or may not be justified.
• Loves peanut butter, baked beans, and (her latest obsession) buttered bread. "I do it!" she says (compare that to Kate and the rice cake), and we just have to make her promise not to eat the margarine right out of the tub as she's spreading it on her bread. "O-tay..." she replies dejectedly.
• Making good progress on potty training. Won't do #2 on the potty, though. One day I asked her to please put a pull-up on before pooping, if she really couldn't bear to do it on a potty, and she did! 
• One might use the term "hot mess" for Claire. She's prone to looking a bit disheveled or not-perfectly-polished, but it's part of her charm. 

The Perfectionist Child

I was busy doing laundry, cleaning up the latest mess (or a much older one), and trying to tune out the screams of a deaf baby who, incidentally, wins the prize for the world's most offensive-to-the-ears cry. Kate wanted a snack. A rice cake with peanut butter. With my free hand, I got the peanut butter jar and bag of rice cakes out of the pantry and set them on the counter in front of her. I handed her a table knife and said, with as much confidence-boosting cheerfulness as I could muster, "Here you go! You can make it yourself!"

"I can't!" she wailed!

"Sure you can," I encouraged, as I went on into the laundry room to start another load.

I reemerged to see her smearing the peanut butter quite satisfactorily on the rice cake, all the while crying over and over, "I can't!"

"Sweetie, you're doing it. Look, you're doing it."

"No, I can't!" she cried, throwing the snack and knife down on the counter and running to bury herself in the couch cushions.

I let her be for a minute, while I fixed myself a rice cake and sat down at the kitchen table, just over a short wall from where Kate sat, barely visible behind the pile of cushions.

"It doesn't have to be perfect, Sweetie."

"Yes it does!"

"My peanut butter isn't perfectly smooth either, but it still tastes good."

"No! Everything you do is perfect, and everything I do is dumb!"

Whoa. How did this happen? I'd seen her get frustrated before, when struggling to hit a badminton birdie or having trouble writing a certain letter or number she has trouble with. I sensed that this was a byproduct of being a very smart, capable child, so easily taking to some things that she doesn't even want to try something she's not immediately good at. She's an emotional kid, struck with melancholy over things we don't even notice, and often can't explain. We've always tried to praise effort, not ability (though, as many proud parents know, that is a tough thing to do sometimes) and let her know we love her unconditionally, but this incident was like a lightning bolt to me as a mom.

A few months later, as I read a book I'd been wanting to check out for a while, it all started to make more sense. The book was The Birth Order Book, by psychologist Kevin Leman. I enjoyed seeing how I was a classic only child (with firstborn characteristics to the extreme), and it was fun seeing how various family members fit their birth order categories (fluid as they are, affected by things like spacing of kids, parenting style, gender of siblings, etc.) but the big payoff was the light this book shed on my family's maternal chain of functional firstborns—my mom (younger than her brother by ten years), me (only child), and Kate (actual firstborn). 

Leman's big emphasis for firstborns and onlies is their perfectionism. Apparently, this is because, while younger siblings have the example of older siblings to follow, firstborns have only their parents and other adults to look up to. So, rather than comparing their three-year-old abilities to six-year-old abilities, for example, they are comparing three-year-old or five-year-old or seven-year-old abilities to those of a twenty- or thirty-something. By comparison, they feel uncoordinated, less intelligent, less capable, and altogether imperfect. The rice cake incident was textbook.

"But my firstborn is so messy! You should see her room!" My mom would say this about me, and I could certainly say it about Kate. Leman makes clear that a child's (or adult's) perfectionism does not always manifest itself in neatness or cleanliness. The "discouraged perfectionist," I think he called it, is what results when the perfection we seek is not attainable (and for whom is it really attainable?).

I've put my priorities in order enough to say that family fun, a career, and time for scrapbooking and party-planning are much more important than housekeeping, but if I feel stressed out in the slightest, the first thing to set me off is the sea of stuff all over the floor! I can't find my keys and suddenly the dishtowel on the floor is symbolic of everything I can't control! I remember having terrible anxiety as a young teenager over not knowing how to pay taxes, buy a car, take out a mortgage, things that my parents obviously knew how to do with no trouble. I can identify with this "discouraged perfectionism," and I can see it in my own mom (who Dad and I used to say was "practically perfect in every way!") and I can see it in Kate. Difficulty with a task makes Kate feel like a total failure, and the slightest correction is a grievous offense.

So what's a parent to do? The key, it seems, is to let things go. For parents with their own perfectionist tendencies to deal with, this can be difficult. When a child dresses himself in red plaid with purple polka dots, the instinct (perhaps even for non-perfectionist parents) is to tell the child how mismatched he is and go redress him. Or maybe to even say "Awesome!" and then switch the little girl's hairbow to one that matches when she's not paying attention (not that I've ever done that). But affirming what the child can do without pointing out what he can't do will give him the confidence to try things he may not be perfect at right away.

And, as Leman instructs, "flaunt your imperfections." Show the child that, even as an adult, you don't do everything perfectly, and that that's okay. Who doesn't occasionally use a tablespoon of something when the recipe calls for just a teaspoon? Who doesn't accidentally stumble over the words in her kids' bedtime story (especially when she's exhausted and just wants to go to bed herself!)? Rather than just moving on, call attention to what you've done. Show them mistakes are just part of life, and nothing to be ashamed of.

So, as Kate prepares to head off to kindergarten next week, with a whole new set of expectations and assignments, here's what I'm doing to help empower my perfectionist child:

1. Not doing (or re-doing) everything myself. When she does her own hair in a ponytail, with visible tangles and bumps, I will not insist on pulling it out and doing it myself. This is hard for me, because I suffer from the constant assumption that people are judging me. (I kid you not.) So, if my child goes off to school looking messy, I fear that her teacher will think I'm a terrible mother. I have to get over that. Kate knows I will do her hair if she asks, but if she doesn't, I will let it be.

2. Setting her up for success. She'll be wearing uniform clothes to school, so I've put all the school-approved clothes in one drawer. She can dress herself in the morning without any input from me. I got her an alarm clock and showed her how to turn the alarm on and off. I wrote (and illustrated, for easy understanding) a list of the things she needs to do to get ready in the morning and for bed. She's already started following it, and feels proud to take care of herself without prodding from Mommy to do each little thing.

3. Affirming questions and "not knowing." As we prepare for kindergarten, Kate is concerned about not doing her schoolwork perfectly. Among the typical "what-ifs" about finding her classroom and getting lost in the school building, I'm seeing an emphasis on academic concerns already. "What if I don't understand the worksheet and everybody else does?" (Nevermind that in pre-K, she's been the worksheet queen. Nevermind, or  because of?) Seeing her fear of embarrassment over asking questions, I vow to affirm her in asking questions and admitting what she doesn't know. I read that Elie Wiesel's mother always asked him after school, "What questions did you ask today?" I'll have to try that. And let her know about my own questions and things I don't understand or need help with.

4. Letting her struggle. Kate was early in learning her letters, loves to write down words she knows (and words she doesn't know, transcribing pages of a book just for fun), and loves to identify words that she knows if she spots them on a sign. But as she gets closer to actual reading, I notice her anxiety about trying to read things she doesn't already know pretty well. She'll decline to read at bedtime, or to attempt the little poems and things in her Highlights "High Five" magazine. When she's reading, I need to wait as long as she needs, wait until she asks me, before jumping in with the correct word. When she's doing her homework, I need to offer only the help she asks for, refusing to do it for her or handhold her on every task.

In all these things, I will affirm her efforts and her enthusiasm. And I will affirm her kindness and compassion even more than I affirm her homework and hairdressing efforts. It's tough to parent a driven, strong-willed, perfectionist firstborn, but by being aware of my own perfectionism, I can empower her to do (and be happy with) her best.

What A Week

I meant to write this post yesterday morning, and I wish I had, since it seems silly to write about a hard week in the aftermath of a major tragedy. We have life and limb, and all is well, but last week was nonetheless an experience.

Our teenage guest is wonderful. She is a very sweet girl, and has been great with our girls. Her school is almost twenty miles away from us, so that's a haul twice a day that is sometimes inconvenient, but what really made the week crazy was all the illness.

Monday started out nice and normal as we got our bearings with three young people in the house, but Kate got sent home early from school with a fever, requiring more driving and waiting around than intended, and then Claire had a fever that evening as well. So, we had to keep them both home the next day, and intended to go to the doctor, but then, the next day, neither of them had fevers or seemed sick at all! Matt and I traded off half days so that each of us could get stuff done while our two non-sick monkeys had a "sick day." I did the morning at home, and then went out in the afternoon for lunch with a friend, errands, work, and to pick up Theresa, then dropping her at home and picking up Kate, who was more than well enough to go to gymnastics. I was exhausted by the time we returned home.

Wednesday was pretty normal until a mix-up at pick up time for Theresa, then church, and by the end of Bible study, Kate was complaining of a massive earache. She was wailing the whole way home and went immediately to bed. Claire had a fever again that night, so we knew they needed to go to the doctor the next day.

But then I woke up sick as a dog with a 102.6 fever. The kids felt fine (of course!) and Matt had something he couldn't miss, so we had to call in the reinforcements: Granna and Opa. I went to the clinic and learned it was the flu. I got my meds and spent the rest of the day in bed. Opa went to pick up Theresa while Granna took our girls to meet Daddy at the pediatrician to find they both had ear infections. Daddy spent way longer than he needed to getting the girls' meds, and then after a quick dinner, our whole bio fam was back in bed by 8:00.

Friday, I felt somewhat better after 24 hours in bed, and sent everyone off to school with Matt. Then Claire threw up and he brought her back home. It was just motion sickness, and she was fine for the rest of the day. I, on the other hand, did a little work, but started getting major anxiety over all the kids in our care and the work I was behind on, due to illness.

Saturday, I was a little more better, but Matt started getting sick. At that point, I was definitely about to have a nervous breakdown, not wanting to call on Granna and Opa again, but wondering how a sick Mommy and Daddy with non-sick, rambunctious kids were supposed to get our writing done for a joint deadline we had on Monday! (Didn't I mention that!?!)

Well, we managed to feel well enough and care for our kids and write this manuscript and do church Sunday night and crashed Sunday night praying pleaseohplease let no one be sick this week!

So far, so good.

FYI, Theresa may be with us for another few weeks, but now that I'm not sicker than I've been in years, that seems okay. It's amazing how, when you're sick and anxious, everything seems so dire. Friday night, I was flipping out that Theresa would be with us for two years (she's sweet, but still...), a misbehaving Kate would become an out-of-control teen (that could still happen), and that I would miss deadlines I have in June (the Monday one was a possibility, but we did it!)

I had to remind myself not to take any thought seriously that I have when sick and anxious. That's good advice.

Weekend from Scratch

from scratch

1. (idiomatic) From the beginning; starting with no advantage or prior preparation.

   There were so many errors in the program that the programmer decided to rewrite it from scratch.

   When the writer finished writing his book, it was stolen and now he has to rewrite it from scratch.

   He had no money and no rich friends, so he had to build his business from scratch.

    [quotations ▼]
2. (idiomatic) From basic materials or raw ingredients.

   She said she wanted to build a new house from scratch.

   He was out of pancake mix so he had to make the batter from scratch.

We did several things "from scratch" this weekend, mostly akin to that last sample sentence.

Saturday morning, I wanted to make a nice, big breakfast, only to discover we were out of pancake mix. So I googled it (so much for the nine cookbooks in my cupboard) and found a recipe to guide me in making pancakes from scratch. They turned out okay. A little doughy in the middle. Probably my fault. But I did make them in the shapes of my diners' first initials, and a bunny rabbit, and a purse (which started as a mediocre bunny and Kate instructed me to connect the ears with a line of batter).

Sunday morning, we began a rare and joyous day off for my husband. Matt hardly ever takes a Sunday off, and if he does, it's because he or we all are going out of town. So a Sunday off at home is extremely rare. I have an intense fascination with "how the other half lives," i.e. the people who don't go to church on Sundays, or at least don't have to be there for seven or eight hours of the day. So before heading off to worship together as a family at the delightfully late hour of 11:00am, Matt decided he wanted to make muffins for our family breakfast. We had no muffin mix, so the googling began again, and Matt ended up making us some wonderful mixed berry muffins. Because we had frozen berries instead of fresh, their juice dyed the batter purple, so they are quite interesting looking, but very tasty.

The third thing we did from scratch—more akin to the first definition above, "starting with no advantage or prior preparation"—was start caring for a teenager. We got a call Friday night around 9:30, asking if we could take a 16-year-old girl. Because of our bio kids' ages, our social worker advised we not take teenagers (especially boys or kids who've been sexually abused, neither of which applied here), so Matt and I took a few minutes to talk it over before calling the placement worker back. We were both inclined to say yes, but nervous.

I was mainly anxious about how to relate to a teenager. I know how to connect with little kids, but I could barely connect with other teenagers when I was one. I told Matt it felt like someone who had never had kids suddenly getting a toddler—she didn't get to ease into it, getting the hang of things, etc.—only in this case, the child would be judging me if I screwed up in some way! Matt was more anxious about the logistics of getting the girl to school each morning, which would involve leaving the house with our girls and our guest, at 6:00am. (High schools start insanely early. The school day is 7:05 to 2:05. That is ridiculous.)

So this girl, "Theresa," we'll call her, arrived on our doorstep at around 11:00 Friday night, and more or less went straight to bed. Saturday, she met our girls over our made-from-scratch pancakes, and our first impressions from the night before were confirmed, that she is a very sweet girl, kind of shy, sad and anxious about being removed from her home, of course. After going out to get her some things that her sister didn't remember to pack for her, we started our Saturday plans of working on various yard projects while the kids played on the swingset. It was then we discovered just how boring our house is for a teenager. She's spent some time on Facebook, watched some TV, and played with Kate and Claire. She's very good with the girls, reading a lot to Kate, and holding Claire. They both enjoy interacting with her.

I still struggle with what to talk to her about, especially since she's very quiet, but we're doing okay. Matt and his car full of girls got away at 6:05, so we're doing well on that front! In a way, having a teenager is easier than having another toddler, like we did with Faith. To the kids, it's more like having a grown up guest than another child in the house, and she's a lot more low-maintenance than a toddler! But, it's tough in different ways, mainly emotional. Whereas Faith didn't really know what was going on and attached quickly to me, Theresa is understandably shaken and sad. We go to court on Thursday and hopefully she will be able to go live with her older sister at that time.

WMW: Parenting is a Marathon

Have you ever listened to the end of the popular NPR show, "Car Talk" with Click & Clack, the Tappett brothers? They're funny, and in the credits at the end of their show, they include some humorous names. For example, their law firm is supposedly "Dewey, Cheatham, and Howe."

They also mention the leader of their working mothers' support group, "Erasmus B. Dragon."

Some days, my ass is draggin', so I can definitely identify.

Today's post is relevant to all parents, really, but given the pressure working moms often put on themselves to "do it all," I thought I'd share this gem of wisdom, which I can't even take credit for, as it is something my husband is reminding me all the time:

Parenting is a marathon, not a sprint. 

Matt reminds me this whenever I feel guilty for taking time for myself, or when I hesitate to ask for help, or when I get really anxious over some issue that doesn't have to be solved in a day. Going "all out" at every single moment will only wear us out—and the "finish line" is 18, 21, 35, 50 years away!

We have to pace ourselves. Take the long view. And that means if you need to let hubby take the kids to gymnastics so you can have some solo scrapbooking time (as I did last night), or let the playroom stay messy for a few days, so be it. If your "ass is draggin'," you're not going to be the best mom, wife, or employee you can be.

There's no prize for doing it all. The real reward is enjoying the journey, and the best news is that we get to run the race together.

Part of the Village

As I excitedly shared in a brief post on Monday, we got our first foster care placement on Monday! CPS called around 1:00 pm, asking us to take a little 19-month-old girl. We accepted, and I immediately went into nesting mode, sweeping and vacuuming and getting the eat seat and box of 18-24 month clothes out of the attic. I had to get a little more work done that afternoon, but it was very hard to stay in my seat. I was a ball of nervous energy and kept thinking of things I should do before she arrived.

They finally brought her over around 5:00, while Matt was gone to get the girls from school. He told Kate on the way home that our first "guest kid" would be there when they got home, and her immediate response was, "I'm going to share my toys with her!" When they came in the door, Matt knelt down and the little girl came over and hugged Kate, then him. Claire wasn't so sure, sensing a usurper in this little darling who is about her size.

Indeed, our little guest—who I'll call "Faith" here, I suppose (pseudonyms appear to be the standard in foster family blogs, since privacy and confidentiality are important)—got quite attached to me right away, so Claire gets uneasy if my lap is occupied by another baby. Claire found she has the trump card, of course, just leaning back to nurse, which generally forces Faith off my lap.

The house soon got even fuller, as my parents were stopping over that night on their way back from Mardi Gras, but it was fun they could meet her right away. So Faith slept in the pack-n-play in our room that first night, since my parents were in the guest room. We found that she hates to go to sleep, but once asleep, is a great sleeper! She took a three hour nap on Tuesday, and sleeps till after 7 or even 8 in the morning.

We're having a lot of fun in our house full of girls. Kate has enjoyed being big sister to two little ones, and Faith and Claire are now little partners-in-crime, running around and playing together, bonking each other with balloons, eating their body weight in Cheerios and raisins, and taking all the letter magnets off the fridge and throwing them on the floor. Faith loves the cat even more than Claire does, trying to pick her up and hug her, Elmyra-style. Her favorite activity of all, it seems, is messing with the latch and knob on the dishwasher.

It's been harder to get work done, of course, working around her (thankfully long) naps, court time, conversations with social workers, etc. It's interesting to learn how everything works and meet all the many people involved in helping this little girl and her family have a better future. At court yesterday, we met family members, social workers in various roles, and lawyers of all types. I was nervous about meeting Faith's mom, worried she would be resentful of us, taking out her hurt and sorrow over losing her daughter on us, but she was very gracious and appreciative. We made her a valentine card with Faith's handprint on it, and she seemed to cherish it. She told Faith how much she loved her. It was definitely difficult when Faith reached for me many times, rather than her mom. Matt and I just can't imagine the pain of having one's child taken to live with strangers, or the hurt of seeing one's child get so attached to someone else. We really hope and pray she will do whatever needs to be done to reunite with her daughter safely.

We go to court again on Tuesday to see if they're going to let a family member take her. If she's going to be with us for a while, I'll get her into day care and make that part of our family routine, and if she leaves us on Tuesday, I'll just be glad to have known her and gotten to play a part in the village that is raising this child.

It's a shame that so many people only get involved when there is trouble. The "normal" and "healthy" families in our society seem to be so self-sufficient, but we all need support systems. Hopefully not social workers and lawyers, but friends and family. At church on Wednesday night, people held Faith and/or Claire while I got our dinner, went to the bathroom, etc., and I was reminded yet again of the beauty that happens when people come together to help one another and, especially, to nurture the children in our midst. I usually feel a twinge of guilt when someone needs to help me wrangle our kids and their gear, and even more so now that the little ones outnumber Matt and I. A mean voice in my head thinks, "why are you parenting these kids if you can't do it all yourself?" But we're not meant to do it all ourselves. We all need the village.

WMW: When Kids Get Sick

Kate has been sick all week, after being sent home with a fever midday Monday (her birthday—boo). So, the last three days have been a good reminder of why I made the switch from WOHM to WAHM. Yes, my primary motive was greater flexibility for the unpredictable needs of foster kids placed in our care, but I was also eager to be more available to my own kids when they are sick, have field trips, class parties, etc.

We haven't gotten any calls about foster kids yet (probably because our social worker recommended us for only one child at a time, close in age to our bio kids, and it's teenagers and sibling groups that are most in need) but I've been so grateful this week to be able to tend to Kate here at home, and get work done as well. Granted, not as much work as my new normal, and not without help; Matt's mom came over for a while yesterday, and today I took Kate to Matt's office for a little while while I went to a meeting.

A child's illness is one of the more difficult aspects of two-career households. Which parent will stay home from work to tend the child and take him or her to the doctor? Is there a family member, friend, or backup childcare service that could care for the child that day? Will there be a loss of pay? Loss of confidence from colleagues and supervisors?

It's no wonder that contingencies for such inevitable circumstances are among the elements rated in Working Mother magazine's 100 Best Companies rankings. 100% of those companies offer flextime and telecommuting (and an average of 77 and 50% of employees use such benefits)—so that parents can take the time they need to care for their sick children, with the freedom (and trust) to get the job done. For the times parents have to be in the office on a day their children are sick, 86% of the 100 Best offer "backup child care," and 65% offer "sick child care."

If you're among the 43-47% of U.S. companies that do not allow flextime or telecommuting, you may need to take preemptive action as suggested in this article—things that seem obvious but I never really thought about!

• Always (or at least, when you suspect your child may be under the weather) try to get your essential tasks done earlier in the day, so if the day care calls just after lunch, you won't be in quite such a bind.
• Talk to your boss in advance about his or her policies and preferences when you have a sick child. I did this when Kate was first born, but I had one or two new bosses in the time since then and never thought to ask up front.
• Research backup care. According to the Working Mother data, only 3% of employers offer such a thing themselves, but you can find such agencies on your own to call when you're really in a bind. My employer actually did have an arrangement with a local backup care agency, but (and I feel silly to admit this) it was located in the federal building just a block way, and thinking of Oklahoma City's federal building bombing and the day care kids there killed, I just couldn't use it.

When I worked full-time in an office, Matt and my solution to the sick-child challenge was either to call his parents (and risk getting them sick—Kate infected at least six other family members with a stomach bug she had as a toddler!) or do the half-day split, where one of us stays home in the morning while the other goes to the office, and then switch around lunchtime. I'm glad to have the flexibility now to do most of the sick-child care myself, escorting to the pediatrician, etc., but even with flexibility and a home office, there are still challenges, and it still takes a village.

In closing, I have to note how the solutions I'm discussing here are specific to the corporate/office-type context. For moms working in fields that require your physical presence—teaching, medicine, retail, etc.—the issues and possible solutions are very different. I hope to address that some next week, so I hope you'll leave a comment about some of the issues faced by working moms beyond my obvious office frame of reference.

What is your workplace's policy on sick-child-care?

Giving Grocery List for Kids

My mommy-heart grew three sizes the other night when Kate and I packed lunches for "the men who sleep at church." Our church participates in Room in the Inn, a program in Nashville through which churches host homeless men during the colder months of the year. Every Wednesday evening, our church van goes to the downtown pick up location and brings ten men back to have dinner, shower and sleep, and eat breakfast. They are given sack lunches when driven back downtown in the morning. 

Packing those lunches is one way our family can participate in this great ministry, and it is a great way to help Kate learn and practice our chief family value of compassion. I love how naturally generous and helpful kids can be, and Kate's enthusiasm for packing these lunches for "our guests" warms my heart. We counted out the paper bags, and she put an orange, a water bottle, and a bag of chips in each one while I made the PBJs. Then she cheerfully offered up some of her Halloween candy for their desserts (though we ended up putting in some of our leftover rainbow cookies from Claire's party instead, so they wouldn't go stale before we could eat them all).

To help her be even more involved, I made an illustrated grocery list specifically for the items we need to buy when we do these lunches.

The other side is items that our church food pantry collects. We don't need to get every item every time, of course, but my hope is that she can carry this list when we go grocery shopping, and spot some of these items to add to our cart.

I'm linking this post up with Kristen Welch's Works for Me Wednesday, so while we're at it, here's a bonus "works for me" tip: if you want something laminated,  but don't want to spend the time or money to take it to Kinko's or wherever, use strips of packing tape to laminate it on the cheap! Just cover both sides of the paper, overlapping the strips slightly so water can't get through, and make sure the tape extends beyond the edges of the paper so they can be pressed together to seal it. Trim with a quarter-inch of tape around the edge so it will stay sealed!

Scarring Them for Life

It's a common half-joke with parents that anything we do wrong will "scar them for life." And as a family that recognizes the value of mental health, chances are our kids will go to counseling for something-or-other at some point. The goal is just to minimize the things they can blame on us, right?

I'm being lighthearted about this, but as Claire gets older, I make more comparisons and have noted several differences in the way I've parented my two girls so far, and really wonder how these choices affect kids down the road. (I say "I" even though Matt is a very involved dad just because I am the one that makes most decisions regarding the issues at hand—the feeding of babies.) I've gone "by the book" on some things and not on others, and the typical parental fear that the way a child "turns out" will reflect on these parenting choices is there, no matter how irrational it seems.

Cry-It-Out v. Nursing-On-Demand
I wonder if Claire and I will have a closer bond because I nursed her, and all the implications of that difference in breastfeeding that I wrote about a month or so ago. Lately, my main concern on the breastfeeding front is that I've basically fed Claire on demand, and I wonder how that will affect her long-term. She doesn't nap well, she doesn't take a pacifier; she nurses when going to bed and whenever she wakes up in the night. By contrast, Kate (who was bottle-fed pumped breastmilk at regular intervals) napped reasonably well, soothed herself easily with a paci, and went to bed in no time—we laid her down, and if she cried, we maybe replaced her paci a couple times and let her cry it out if the situation was dire. Easy peasy.

So, I worry that Claire will be a comfort eater, since nursing is pretty much the only way to soothe her. (Good thing she's tenth percentile in weight now, since she'll be hitting up Ben & Jerry's whenever she's down in future years!) I worry that I've done her a massive disservice by feeding her whenever she wakes, making it harder for her to learn self-soothing. How could I have gone against my convictions with her, after such "success" with Kate? I guess it's just so easy, since the boobs are right there and it's all up to me, as opposed to Matt doing Kate's 11 pm dream feed while I slumbered away. Still, it's frustrating, since Claire did sleep through the night by three months, as Kate did, but then relapsed, it seems, and I'm not sure how to get her on track again.

Advantage: Kate, theoretically. If you listen to folks that advocate nursing-on-demand, then Claire has the advantage, but from what I've witnessed so far, a stricter approach to feeding and sleeping seems to make for a more well-adjusted baby.


Fruit-First v. Veggie-First
This was actually the conversation that inspired this post. Claire started solids a couple weeks ago, with oatmeal first. This past week, I gave her sweet potatoes, peas, and squash as well. I hadn't gotten around to looking up (in my Birth to One Year Essential Baby Organizer) what foods beyond cereal we gave Kate first. Common parenting wisdom says to give babies veggies before fruit, so they won't grow accustomed to the sweeter flavor of fruit and resist eating veggies.

I mentioned to Matt that that was why Claire was getting veggies this week. He responded sarcastically, "yeah, and Kate eats her veggies sooo well..."

I opened my Baby Organizer then to see what we'd fed Kate first after cereal (whole wheat in her case), and turns out, it was applesauce and bananas. Ha! Point proven... perhaps.

Matt turned to Kate and said, "Have we scarred you for life, Kate?"
"Yes," she replied.
"Are you going to talk about this in counseling?" Matt asked.
"No," Kate said.

Well, that's good.

Who knows if that's the reason Kate loves fruit and her main veggie is raw carrots while she has to be coerced to eat cooked peas, green beans, or zucchini, but I'm sure it didn't help. With Claire starting on sweet potatoes and peas first, maybe she will love mushy veggies as much as I do. Advantage: Claire.

There are so many things that influence who a child will become, there's no way to know how each specific parenting decision at this young age plays into things, but nonetheless, I'll be wondering as they grow how this or that affected their personalities, aptitudes, and behaviors.

I just hope any advantages or disadvantages I've given my girls balance out in the end. We do our best in every case, and at the end of the day, that's all we can do.

Family Values

I recently read this great article online about teaching your children the faith. It was in US Catholic magazine, so "the faith" in that case was specifically Roman Catholic Christianity, but I thought it was great advice for parents of all traditions. The biggest takeaway for me was this quote:

“I always ask [parents], ‘Articulate the three most important values in your life that guide you individually or as a family.’ . . . If you can’t articulate your values, how do you communicate them to your kids?"

I started thinking, and pretty quickly had three values that I feel guide me and that I hope we can instill in our children: Compassion, Gratitude, Faith.

Compassion

Caring for others, especially those less fortunate, is a central value of our family. When we pray at dinnertime, we try to always remember people outside of our immediate family, and I hope that Matt and my conversations that our kids overhear instill a concern for the poor and marginalized of society.

As Kate (and later, Claire) gets older, we increasingly try to involve her in activities focused on helping others. On maternity leave, I signed up several weeks to make the sack lunches we send with the homeless men who stay the night at our church on Wednesday nights. (Nashville has a program called Room in the Inn; folks can gather at a certain place downtown to meet vans that will take them to various churches in the area for dinner, sleep, and breakfast, October through March.) I figured I wouldn't sign up for any more weeks once I was back to work, but the very week I went back, they announced Sunday morning that no one had signed up to make the lunches that week, so I thought, "okay, Kate and I can do it together this week!" rather than me doing it on my own during the day. So I made a little shopping list with marker drawings of the foods we needed to buy, and we went to the grocery after work/school, came home and made the sandwiches together and Kate went down the assembly line putting a sandwich, chips, water, fruit, and cookies in each bag.

We talked about how we were making these for "the men who sleep at church." (She's familiar with them because they eat with us at the Wednesday night dinner.) "Why do they sleep at church?" she asked. "Because they don't have houses and refrigerators with food and all that like we have," I told her. "We're so lucky to have a house and food and everything we have, so we need to help them." It was amazing how in my mind the example was "therefore we make lunch for them," but Kate's response was, "We need to help them find houses?" Even though I'd consider myself more holistic in social justice than just isolated acts of charity, I was still struck to the core by the obvious way Kate assumed that we shouldn't just give them food, we should help remedy the problem.

I'm not great with this value. I struggle to be loving toward people who are different from me. I'm ashamed of how judgmental and prejudiced I can be. But it is definitely something I am always striving toward and that I want to instill in my children.

Gratitude

Gratitude, I'm a little better at. I am very fortunate and certainly take a lot for granted. But I do find myself standing in awe, many times, at all we have and the fact that we have it. I open our pantry and think how fortunate we were to have that food. I get in the shower and think how amazing it is that we have a room dedicated to bathing and have hot water whenever we want it. It's mind-blowing, if you think about it. I am so thankful to have our house and to have it be ours. I think of my grandparents whenever I give thanks for our home because it was the savings they left behind that enabled me and my cousin to purchase our homes. We are so, so fortunate.

Like any parent, I try to get Kate to say "please" and "thank you," and she does especially well with the thank you, even from the time she was just doing baby sign language for it. Lately, she has developed a habit that I just love. She often asks me, when playing with a toy or looking at clothes in her closet, "Who gave me this?" I love it because it shows an awareness that all she has didn't just appear out of nowhere. Her grandparents, our friends, and people in our church are extremely generous with her, and I love that she seems not to take it for granted. She asks who gave her something, I tell her, and she responds, "oh. That's very nice of them."

My mom drilled it into me to always write thank you notes, and while I realized the double standard somewhere during my teen years that kids were expected to write thank yous but adults rarely did, I've kept up that practice as an adult. I'm trying to get Kate involved in the practice as well now, and while of course she can't write, I mix in one or two of the following as a way to make her aware of the importance of expressing gratitude when one receives a gift:

• having her be present while I'm writing the notes, addressing the envelopes, etc. 
• having her choose which stamp should go on each envelope 
• having her color a picture to include in the note (or color on the card or envelope itself) 
• having her choose which picture each person gets 
• asking her what she thinks about the gift so we can say something personal from her. We tried this with her birthday thank yous and she often just said "thank you," or "I like it," but it's still a good practice, I think, and will grow gradually to the point she can write the whole note herself.

Faith

Compassion and gratitude are both related to our faith, certainly, but the faith itself is also a key value (as you can certainly practice compassion and gratitude even without being a person of faith). There will come a time, of course, when our children will have to claim the Christian faith for themselves, but we make it known to them that, as a family, we are Christians. We baptized our girls because they belong to God even before they can understand or choose it for themselves, and we are promising to raise them to know God and live like Jesus.

At this age (Kate's, that is) we try to help form her Christian identity by talking about why we go to church  ("to praise God and learn about Jesus," I typically phrase it) and we pray together at dinnertime. Kate often wants to be the "prayer person" (which is apparently what they call it at school, because she told me today "I'll be the prayer person; you be the line leader") and she'll have us repeat after her,
God is great, God is good, 
let us thank him for our food
by his hands, we are fed
thank you, Lord, for our daily bread
In Christ's name, Amen.

When I repeat after her, I'm sure to enunciate, so that if she's just going rote, she can understand better what we are saying, and I remind her that "Christ" is another name for "Jesus," since she knows who Jesus is but probably does not understand the messiah concept or the Greek word for it.

We believe questioning is a good thing, and doubt is not to be feared or squashed, so by instilling "faith" as a value, we certainly do not mean blind acceptance of a particular doctrine. Rather, it is an overall orientation toward God, a desire to seek and know him. There are plenty of theological things I don't understand (or maybe even believe) but I am committed to the journey of faith, and hope our children will be too.

I have a well-known prayer by Thomas Merton hanging by my desk, and there are two lines that I cling to, when I don't know much else:
"... the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you."

I hope to instill in my children that desire to follow, please, and know God, and pray that that desire in itself helps them along that journey of faith.


What would you say your top three life-orienting values are?

More Parenting Wisdom

Yesterday I gave you the Cliff's Notes of How to Talk So Kids Will Listen... but there's another parenting book I read recently that I wanted to record a few tips from as well. This one was an oldie, Your Two-Year-Old: Terrible or Tender, written in the 1970s. I heard about this one (and possibly How to Talk too) from EMU, fellow mommy blogger and Furman alum, and as she said, there are some very dated references in it—my favorites were "play records for your child and consider getting him his own phonograph" and "consider putting your child in the back seat so he doesn't interfere with your driving"—but there was also some very helpful information.

Most of the book was about the psychology of two-year-olds, explaining why they act the way they do. I don't remember a lot from those parts, beyond the perfectly understandable notion that two-year-olds are stuck between baby and child, trying to figure out their sense of self and assert their own identity. The stereotypical obsession with "mine!" is rooted in this need to define one's own personhood. Kids this age are obsessed with their shoes for this reason. Needing to hold onto certain objects, even while sleeping, is part of this as well (as well as part of learning object permanence, holding onto things to ensure they'll still be there in the morning). I remember an article about this in a parenting magazine, talking about a kid who liked to sleep with not just his blankie and favorite stuffed animals, but also a soccer ball and a calendar. That cracked me up. The Terrible or Tender book mentioned a kid who had to sleep with a green pepper and a very sharp pencil. So unsafe, and yet hilarious.

The one chapter that focused on actual techniques for parenting two-year-olds included the following tips that I thought were worth writing down:


Take advantage of the two-year-old's ritualistic tendencies.
They have a need for sameness, including the order in which things are done. A consistent routine for things like bedtime or getting ready in the morning can help it go smoothly because the child herself will insist on the routine. (If only Matt and I were better about implementing the routine we want her to have. Instead, what has become routine is the consistent procrastination of putting on jammies, "one more book," etc. If we want to change the ritual, we'll need to be proactive.) The authors' warning about this tendency is that the more you try to hurry a child this age, the longer it will take.

Use "face-saving techniques."
I'm sure there are techniques related to letting your child save face as well, but it's your own face you're saving here. Basically, the idea is to avoid making ultimatums you will regret. I mentioned yesterday how we recently cancelled fun plans because Kate was misbehaving. I shouldn't have pulled the whole "do this now or we won't go," because I then had to stick by my threat when she didn't cooperate, and I ended up bumming myself out because I really wanted to go have fun with my daughter!

So, rather than saying "eat all your veggies or you'll sit here all night" or "we're not going to the playground until you pick up all the toys," phrase things cooperatively, like "Let's clean up the blocks," or "Where do the blocks go?" or "We'll go to the playground after we clean up the blocks."

Related to this (and this is good advice for dealing with people of any age!) is the tip "Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to." (or as I like to say, "questions with only one right answer.") So, just as you wouldn't ask your husband, "Does this dress make me look fat?" you shouldn't ask your child "Would you like to take a bath?" if the bath is actually non-negotiable.

Give choices.
This one appeared a lot in the book I wrote about yesterday, but bears repeating. Little kids have so little control over their lives; they're told when to eat, when to sleep, etc., so offering control over whatever you can is helpful. The child has some say about things, but you control the options. "Do you want to wear the red dress or the orange one?" "Should we put on your pants first or your shirt?" "Do you want to stand up to put your jammie top on or fly into it like Superman?" (As you might have guessed, a lot of our struggles these days relate to getting dressed!)

What is the best parenting book you've read lately? What is the best parenting tip you've learned lately?

How to Talk So Kids Will Listen (Cliff's Notes)

About six months ago, I canceled my subscription to Bookswim (the Netflix for books) and vowed to use my library to save money borrowing books. I've been using the library steadily since then, and this is the first time I've owed late fees. Why? Because this book is awesome and I refused to return it before I was finished. (And renewing wasn't an option because there's a wait list for this great book!) What's the book? How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. It came out in 1980, and I read the 20th anniversary edition. There's a new edition coming out in February 2012 too.

This post is my Cliff's Notes version of this book so that I can reference these tips over and over again. You might want to as well! The main idea is that our words have the power to help our kids be more self-aware, confident, cooperative, self-reliant, and well-adjusted. A lot of the insights are more relevant for older kids—elementary and teen—but the basic ideas can be implemented even with toddlers and preschoolers. I'm already trying to implement some of these concepts in the way I interact with Kate. (The examples I've written for myself below tend to reflect the issues we're dealing with now with Kate.) Faber and Mazlish have great tips for...

Acknowledging and helping kids identify their feelings
Giving kids the vocabulary to express what they're feeling can help avoid tantrums and acting out as they can use words instead. But feelings can be complex and hard to identify when you're young and your language is limited. Verbalizing things for kids like "I see you're very frustrated" can help give them this vocabulary, and help the child know that you understand and appreciate what they're experiencing. Kate has been more emotional since Claire was born, wanting to be held, not wanting to be apart from Matt or me. "It's hard sharing Mommy and Daddy, isn't it?" we've started saying, and she'll stop crying to say "yes," and it creates a moment of understanding to help her identify why she feels so yucky sometimes now and to know that Mommy and Daddy "feel her pain."

Engaging cooperation
This is the big one for me right now, and these haven't proven too helpful yet, but I'm committed to trying, especially as the kids get older. Better than nagging or placing blame ("you" statements) try the following:

• Describe the problem ("I see cereal on the floor.")
• Give information ("Milk gets sour when it's left out.")
• Say it with a word ("Kate, shoes," rather than saying over and over "You need to put on your shoes.")
• Talk about your feelings ("I don't like finding milk dripped on the couch.")
• Write a note (especially for older kids, this is an opportunity to make a reminder lighthearted or funny)

Watch out for too many "no"s
Unavoidable sometimes, so minimize when not necessary. How?

• Give information without the "no" ("I want crackers." "We're having dinner soon.")
• Accept feelings ("I don't want to go home yet!" "I see you're having fun. It's hard to leave a place you enjoy so much.")
• Describe the problem ("Hold me!" "I want to hold you so much. [no 'but'] The problem is, Claire needs to eat now.")
• Substitute a "yes" when possible ("Can we go to the playground?" "Yes, after lunch we will go.")
• Give yourself a chance to think ("Let me think about it.")

Alternatives to Punishment

• Point out a way to be helpful ("It would be helpful if you pick up the spilled cereal.")
• Express strong disapproval without attacking character ("I don't like it when you tell me 'no.' Please do what Mommy asks.")
• Show the child how to make amends (Matt is really good at this: "Can you hug Mommy and tell her you're sorry for hitting?" When kids are older, this might involve paying for something broken, etc.)
• Give a choice ("Should we hop to the car or skip to the car?") 
• Take action (restraining child or removing from situation. The authors don't like time outs, though, since that is punishment by separation and doesn't help the child learn correct behavior.)
• Allow the child to experience consequences of the behavior (not getting to go to the grocery if misbehaved the last time. This can be tough depending on the age. The other day, we cancelled fun plans because Kate was misbehaving. She kept asking to go, and when I'd remind her why we weren't going, she'd say "but I'm being good now." So, I'm not sure she totally gets it, but she will soon.)
• Problem-solving (Come up with alternate solutions together. For bigger kids or teens, this can be more formal, writing down ideas for preventing a problem like being late for school or missing curfew. I notice this happens naturally sometimes, like when Kate fights wearing her car seat buckle over her chest. "I'll wear it over my heart, okay?" she says, which by her definition of "heart" is just about an inch or two lower than I would prefer, but keeps her from pulling it all the way down to her waist.)

Encouraging Autonomy
We want kids to be responsible and self-reliant, so we should give them responsibility for whatever we can. And on the behavior front, battles of will result when the child seeks control over the situation; so let her have control over whatever you can. There were a bunch of tips in this chapter, so I'll divide them into things that might be useful with young kids like Kate, and stuff to file away for later.

Now:

• Let children make choices ("Should we put on your shirt or pants first?")
• Show respect for a child's struggle ("Buttons can be tough to do sometimes.")
• Don't rush to answer questions ("Why do you think?" rather than supplying the answer immediately. Better to get them to figure it out or at least try. This is also good for responding to complaints. "Why can't we order pizza?" Responding "Why can't we?" invites the child to think about parents' reasoning, like "because it's expensive," or "because it's not healthy.")
• Encourage kids to use sources outside the home ("Let's ask the doctor about that," or nowadays, "Let's Google it!")
• Don't talk about a child in front of her—no matter how young the child (This one is really tough, and I immediately became aware of how often we do this, explaining her behavior to others, etc.)
• Let a child answer for herself (tough when child gets shy in public, but if possible, say something like "Kate can tell you. She's the one who knows!")
• Show respect for child's eventual readiness ("I know you'll use the potty on your own when you're ready.")

Later:

• Don't ask too many questions (Imagine the classic "what did you do in school?" "Nothing" interaction. Let kids open up as they are comfortable. "I'm happy to see you," rather than a barrage of questions about their day. Especially avoid "Did you have fun?" because if they didn't, they not only didn't have a good time, they're disappointing you by not having had fun.)
• Don't take away hope ("That's a neat idea. Tell me about it," rather than "That'll never work," "You're too young," "Your grades aren't good enough," etc.)
• Let her own her body (avoid fussing over her appearance—rearranging collar, tucking hair behind her ear, etc.)
• Stay out of the minutiae of child's life (avoid "You need more light to read," "Why do you wear your hair like that?")

Use Effective Praise
Instead of evaluating ("That's really good," or "You're so smart.") describe what you see or what you feel. Saying "I see all the toys put where they belong!" or "I love to see a clean playroom," leads to the child praising herself ("I did a good job picking up my toys.") Or, sum up the praiseworthy behavior in a word: "You got dressed so quickly this morning. Now that's cooperation!"

Words we too often use with Kate are "smart" and "pretty." Instead, we should say things like "You spot letters everywhere we go!" or "You love to match colors!" and (though we should cut back on appearance-based praise in general, I know!) "Your polka dot dress is so colorful!" instead. Describe what we see, rather than defining her with certain adjectives. This is also part of the last major point in the book:

Free Children from Playing Certain Roles
It's easy to define kids as "shy," "stubborn," "strong-willed," etc. and even if we don't verbalize that definition, thinking of a child in a certain way can impact how the child behaves and views himself. Positive roles ("smart" or "pretty," like I mentioned) can even be problematic because they create pressure to maintain that role ("I better not try that hard puzzle because if I can't do it, I won't be smart anymore.") And negative ones, obviously, can hurt the child's self-esteem and create a self-fulfilling prophecy.

While our "uncooperative" or "naughty" moments with Kate probably total only 10-20 minutes a day, those moments are so frustrating that I can tend to think of Kate's behavior in this phase of life as those things. To combat these roles:

• Look for opportunities to show the child a new picture of herself ("You got dressed so easily today. That's being cooperative!")
• Put children in situations where they can see themselves differently (This can be tough in stages when misbehavior can come out of nowhere, but when kids are older, this is things like giving them new responsibilities, etc.)
• Let children overhear you say positive things about them (Brag on them to the other parent or grandparents. I've heard that this can even be in pretend, like when Kate hands me a play phone, I can tell the "person" on the other end about something great Kate did.)
• Model the behavior you'd like to see. ("I wish I could eat candy for breakfast, but since that's not a breakfast food, I'll have cereal instead.")
• Be a storehouse for your child's special moments ("You were so well-behaved at ZooTwos. I remember how you always sat in your seat when the teacher said to.")
• When your child acts according to the old label, state your feelings and/or expectations ("I feel frustrated when you fight getting dressed. I expect you to cooperate so that you can get to school on time.")

You may not have to read the book for yourself now, but I still highly recommend it. There are so many great tips from this book to try to remember, but the hope is that they become a natural way of speaking to your child. I really want to focus on describing things (both problems and things to praise), not talking about Kate in front of her (except to brag on her), and building her autonomy to avoid battles of will. I've already noticed that I'm able to use choices more, avoid the word "no," and draw attention to Kate's cooperative moments. Dealing with uncooperative moments without nagging or losing my cool are still challenging, but I feel equipped with some new techniques to assist in those inevitable parenting challenges!

How Much Do Babies Eat and Sleep?

These are two questions I think a lot of first time parents ask--and since my brain has since been filled with toddler stuff to the point I worry I've forgotten all about newborn-care, maybe second-time parents too. When Kate was born, I found a couple charts that were extremely helpful as guides regarding those two issues, and I'm posting them inside a kitchen cabinet for my reference this time around too. I think the sleeping chart was in a book, which I photocopied, and the eating chart was in a formula ad I tore out. (It makes sense that any feeding chart listing ounces would be referring to formula, but since I pumped and bottle-fed breastmilk, it was definitely helpful to know how much and how often was typical.) I'll admit I feel guilty for not being able to credit sources here, but not guilty enough not to share these very helpful guides.


Average Hours of Sleep

Newborn: 16-18 hours per day, distributed evenly over 6-7 sleep periods.
1 month: 3 naps totaling 6-7 hours and 8.5-10 hours at night (not uninterrupted)
3 months: 3 naps totaling 5-6 hours and 10-11 hours at night (not uninterrupted unless you're really lucky)
6 months: 2 naps totaling 3-4 hours and 10-11 hours at night
9 months: 2 naps totaling 2.5-4 hours and 11-12 hours at night
12 months: 1-2 naps totaling 2-3 hours and 11.5-12 hours at night
2 years: 1 nap of 1-2 hours and 11-12 hours at night
3 years: 1 nap of 1-1.5 hours and 11 hours at night
4 years: no naps and 11.5 hours at night
5 years: no naps and 11 hours at night

Clearly, this is an approximation and reality may be more or less, but it's nice to have some idea what is "normal" when you're navigating life with an infant. Kate was fairly close to this as an infant, I think. Now at 2.5, she only sleeps about 10 hours at night, but is generally still napping once a day for 1.5-3 hours (this napless weekend notwithstanding!)

Average Bottle Consumption (breastmilk or formula, I'll add!)

Newborn: 2-3 oz. every 2-3 hours, about 8-12 feedings per day
2 months: 2-4 oz. every 3-4 hours, about 6-8 feedings per day
3 months: 3-5 oz. every 4-5 hours, about 5-6 feedings per day
4 months: 4-6 oz. every 4-5 hours, about 5 feedings per day
5 months: 5-7 oz. every 4-6 hours, about 5 feedings per day
6 months: 6-8 oz. every 4-6 hours, about 5 feedings per day

Around six months, you've started solids, so liquid feedings might go down some. (Note that the AAP recommends not introducing solids before four months, including putting cereal in a bottle. They're linking early solids to childhood obesity, apparently.) I think Kate's eating was pretty much in line with this chart, though again, these are clearly approximations.

Parenting Two

A couple weeks ago, I asked for advice on helping Kate adjust to having a sibling. Here, on Facebook, and via email, you all shared some great tips that I'll have to remember! The most insightful, I think, was making sure that I'm not holding the baby when Kate comes to see us at the hospital. To make sure she doesn't feel usurped, my lap should be free and ready to hold her right away.

Today I want to ask more about the practical side of parenting two kids.
What tips do you have for everyday life with two small kids?

I'm thinking of things like:
how to get everybody ready and out the door before work/school or church,
how to keep Kate in check (in parking lots, etc.) when my hands are full with an infant
what ways Kate can help out without being a danger to the baby
... and plenty of things I can't even think of right now.

I'm sure that, as with the first, you figure things out as you go until you can't even remember what life was like before, but I'd love to have a few tricks from the old pros in my pocket!

Crib Notes

Kate napped in a big girl (well, toddler) bed today! Not at our house, but at Granna and Opa's. They bought this adorable toddler bed a month or so ago, but Kate has refused to sleep in it. She would sit on it to play or read books, but when it was time to sleep... no way. They had to get her pack & play back out for her to sleep in when we were there over Thanksgiving.

But today, when placed in her pack & play for a nap, she stood up and pointed at the bed. "You want to sleep there?" Opa asked. She nodded "yes," and there she is, sleeping in a bed!

Several people have asked me since I posted this video of Kate climbing out of her crib at 20 months if we've transitioned her to a toddler bed yet. I know it's strange, but she hasn't climbed out again since then!

She clearly knows how to climb out (I have videographic proof!) but she usually doesn't balk at going to bed, just lays down and waits to be covered up. A few times in the last couple months, she has cried at bedtime and started to lift her leg over the railing like she's going to climb out. I just ignore it and leave the room. Thirty seconds later, I peek in on her, and she's sitting down in the crib, holding up Big Raffi to be covered up.

Her crib is a convertible, so if we can figure out how to remove the front and add a railing, I guess we'll be in good shape. But I'm not feeling much of a rush. So long as she's happy in her crib at home, my little big girl can keep that vestige of babyhood a while longer.

You might be a toddler parent...

If you pop into your local Christian bookstore to pick up some 10-inch purple candles for your home Advent wreath and upon finding that they are out of that particular size and color, you comment,

"Hmm... the closest they have are these 15-inch blue ones. They're too big and blue!"

And this song immediately gets stuck in your head for the next three hours...

Outliers and Parenting

I love learning why things are the way they are. That's why I love Malcolm Gladwell, author of bestsellers The Tipping Point and Blink. I recently read his Outliers: The Story of Success, which features tons of fascinating stories and statistics exploring why some people succeed while others don't. His overall thesis is that success is less about natural talent and more about the opportunities one has to practice and develop one's natural aptitudes. The Beatles' Hamburg sessions and the fact that Bill Gates went to a private high school that had computer technology before most colleges are primary examples.

I've blogged about a couple parenting-related books lately (Parenting Inc. and The Lolita Effect), and I'm definitely not planning on reviewing every book I read here, but a few of Gladwell's insights on success do have interesting implications for parenting.

1. It may be a good idea to hold kids back a year. I never thought much about that concept, having been young for my grade myself (a July birthday) and doing just fine, but Gladwell offers some interesting evidence to make me consider it. His opening case study focuses on Canadian hockey players and how most of them are born early in the year. Analyzing the rosters of professional teams and the elite youth programs, January birthdays were common, followed by February, on down to where only a handful were born after July. This is because in kids' leagues, the best players from each age level were tapped early for special training and opportunities, and with a birthday cutoff of January 1, the fastest, strongest players tended to be those born early in the year. They would get the extra playing time and special coaching that it took to become really great. A small advantage as an eight year old becomes huge by adulthood because of all those special opportunities.

As I said, I was young for my grade, and it didn't cause me any problems, and Kate is a January baby, so she's not in the iffy zone at all, but Gladwell's point was that if a child is close to the cutoff date for something (August or September for school, I guess) there really might be some benefit to holding them back. Not because they need the extra year of kindergarten, but because if they're extra smart in first grade, they will get the special attention that may privilege them later. (One of the top GPAs in my graduating class was an August birthday, as I recall, so she was almost a year older than me--and got her driver's license a year and a half before me, due to a change in Kentucky law that hit right as our grade was turning sixteen. Then again, I think the other top GPA was a guy with a June birthday--just a month older than me--so who knows. He's a Navy SEAL now, so he may have been an outlier for other reasons!)

2. Teach your kids to be a little impertinent. In one of my favorite chapters, Gladwell talks about a sociological study where researchers were flies on the wall in the homes of families of all socio-economic classes. There were many differences between rich and poor, of course, but the one they really found to make a difference was the way wealthier parents taught their children to interact with authority figures. It was what he called "entitlement in the best sense of the word."

The main case he described was an upper-class mother who told her son on the way to the doctor's office, "Now, be thinking of any questions you want to ask the doctor." She showed her son that even though he was a child, he could freely address an authority figure to get the information he wanted. Gladwell compared this to a bonafied genius in another chapter who didn't get anywhere in life because he had been trained to distrust authority and could not competently work with authority figures to work out his scholarship and stay in school when he hit a minor paperwork glitch.

3. Parents' involvement matters academically. Nashville blogger Lindsey Ferrier wrote a post last week that actually prompted me to write this post. Lindsey was talking about how much homework her first grader has, and how it would be impossible for a child to do it all and learn from it without a parent right there, walking them through it. Kids whose parents were unable or unwilling to take that time (working a second shift or just too busy with other responsibilities) are at a distinct disadvantage.

This immediately brought to mind Gladwell's discussion of the "achievement gap" studies of schoolchildren have revealed. The stats generally show that kids from lower-income families score lower on various tests, while middle- and upper-class kids do much better. The conclusion is often that poor kids are not as smart or that schools fail poor kids. However, comparing June's scores to September's revealed that over the course of the school year, lower-income kids show more improvement than others, essentially erasing the gap by the end of the school year.

The clincher was when they compared September to June--that is, the end of the summer to the beginning. Poor kids declined over the summer--actually losing some of their reading skills--while the middle-class kids improved slightly and rich kids improved by a huge margin. While the poor children were just chilling out over the summer (and there is certainly something to be said for unstructured playtime), other kids were reading with their parents and going to day camps and special classes, etc. Gladwell uses this to advocate for a school year schedule that doesn't allow such long breaks where so much retention can be lost. I agree with that, since we need to be looking out for the interests of disadvantaged kids, but this vignette also says something about the importance of reading with kids and creating an intellectually-stimulating environment at home.

We all want our kids to be successful--with or without the Beatles' or Bill Gates' kind of fame--and in a way it's nice to know it's not all about their genes (takes some pressure off us biological parents!) But there is some pressure to realizing that we have a huge influence on who our children become, whether it be through big decisions or conversations in the car, or simply snuggling up to read books together.