My man and I have been known to go on dates to local bookstores, take parenting books that we think are particularly awful and hide them behind automotive books.
Seven Kids: Top 7 Listening Devices
7. (Shut the laptop.)
6. Bake cookies together, and sit and enjoy them.
5. Take ONE with you on errands or even better, on a date. When we get one in the car alone, she/he usually talks our ears off.
4. Write notes to each other. I even pass a journal back and forth with my daughter. I started it when she was 9. Sometimes she leaves hidden messages for me in my purse that just say "I love you."
3. If I have to work at something, I tell them how much help they are (even if they actually make MORE work for me) so that we can still be together. Working elbow to elbow leads to great discussions.
2. If you need to talk to a teen, doing it in the car seems easier than just sitting face to face. They don't have to be intimidated by eye contact because you have to watch the road, so they tend to open up more.
1. Go ahead and relax some of the rules about TV, movies or music, to allow things that actually have bad words and sex scenes and drugs- bringing up those topics in THAT context is more generic than having to confront your kid face-to-face about it. So it's just easier to let your opinion out and hear from them what they think.
6. Bake cookies together, and sit and enjoy them.
5. Take ONE with you on errands or even better, on a date. When we get one in the car alone, she/he usually talks our ears off.
4. Write notes to each other. I even pass a journal back and forth with my daughter. I started it when she was 9. Sometimes she leaves hidden messages for me in my purse that just say "I love you."3. If I have to work at something, I tell them how much help they are (even if they actually make MORE work for me) so that we can still be together. Working elbow to elbow leads to great discussions.
2. If you need to talk to a teen, doing it in the car seems easier than just sitting face to face. They don't have to be intimidated by eye contact because you have to watch the road, so they tend to open up more.
1. Go ahead and relax some of the rules about TV, movies or music, to allow things that actually have bad words and sex scenes and drugs- bringing up those topics in THAT context is more generic than having to confront your kid face-to-face about it. So it's just easier to let your opinion out and hear from them what they think.
Meelo Cat
Today's blog post is going to be short- for the same reason that the blog hasn't had new content in a week. I have people to see, and things to do with them, so writing has taken a backseat.
Something hit me yesterday- right in the face. It was Meelo Cat Meelo Cat is a little guy who keeps me humble and real with my kids. So he hit me yesterday when I heard from my 15yo, in a rageous scream, "you don't listen anyway!" For the record, at that time I'd like to make a case to the court that HE was the one not listening. But that's neither here nor there, because Meelo Cat is the lone juror and Meelo Cat wants to know, "Mom? Did you hear him?"
This morning my Babble Mail included an article, "I don't listen to my kids." This article reminded me of Meelo Cat. Meelo Cat is someone who came to live at our house when we got the CD Big Kid
by Sara Hickman. The song is Look At Me- my kids immediately loved it and my ears immediately began to burn with shame. The chorus makes my kids giggle and sing "Meelo Cat" (and now I've ruined it for you, too, huh?).
Tomorrow I'll post my Top Seven Ways to listen to your kids. Right now I need to go- someone needs me. I'll leave you with this video-- your kids will probably love it. In fact, the entire Big Kid CD is really fun and will have you all singing the rest of the day together. Enjoy your kids today!
Something hit me yesterday- right in the face. It was Meelo Cat Meelo Cat is a little guy who keeps me humble and real with my kids. So he hit me yesterday when I heard from my 15yo, in a rageous scream, "you don't listen anyway!" For the record, at that time I'd like to make a case to the court that HE was the one not listening. But that's neither here nor there, because Meelo Cat is the lone juror and Meelo Cat wants to know, "Mom? Did you hear him?"
This morning my Babble Mail included an article, "I don't listen to my kids." This article reminded me of Meelo Cat. Meelo Cat is someone who came to live at our house when we got the CD Big Kid
by Sara Hickman. The song is Look At Me- my kids immediately loved it and my ears immediately began to burn with shame. The chorus makes my kids giggle and sing "Meelo Cat" (and now I've ruined it for you, too, huh?).
Tomorrow I'll post my Top Seven Ways to listen to your kids. Right now I need to go- someone needs me. I'll leave you with this video-- your kids will probably love it. In fact, the entire Big Kid CD is really fun and will have you all singing the rest of the day together. Enjoy your kids today!
Seven Kids, Allowances and Rewards
I have done Allowances off and on. I'd like to say I don't believe in them, but that's simply not totally true. The truth is that I can't keep up with the extra effort involved. I forget I made the deal, I can't remember who did what and who earned what. I'm really bad about asking Kid C to do the chores assigned to Kid B, just because Kid C happens to be standing there. And I can't remember to go to the bank and draw out cash AND remember to ask her to give it to me in small bills.
My foray into Allowances began when I got really tired of always finding perfectly good shoes left outside in the brutal Austin, TX, climate to be completely destroyed by the sun and what little rain we mustered up. I mean, seriously? You peel your shoes off outside and just leave them scattered all over the yard? I tried decorative baskets and bins near the doors, which it turns out are fantastic places to stash toys, granola bar wrappers, fuzz, gravel and sand, and 3 assorted sandals of various sizes and colors and one water shoe. Clearly, the basket inside the door does not work.
I tried yelling, but we all know how that goes over.
So, one day, I lined up their shining happy faces and began to explain to them the New World Order of Our House. Allowance. There was money involved, so most of them were listening. I told them that Daddy works really hard and apportions a part of the household funds into my capable hands for allocating to the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker. We don't have any free money to just hand out willy nilly to any boy who would like to buy an endless supply of Poprocks-- but, I would like to funnel some of the household budget to THEIR grimy fingers and see what they can do with it.
One dollar per year of age, per month. They immediately set to their calculations, then rubbed their grimy hands together (producing those little balls of hot dirt that fall to the floor for me to sweep up). "We'll be RICH!" and "BooYAH!"
But wait a sec. The deal is, I don't buy shoes anymore. You buy your own.
They still seem to think this is a good idea.
And it was. This worked for a year. The poor lady at the bank would finally get it figured out: Three tens, 4 fives and 13 ones.... no wait, was that 5 fives and 12 ones... oh crap. Sorry, someone had a birthday I need more ones. The Allowances, modest as they were, cost me $50-something a month. I wasn't sure about the whole system but I was getting to know the bank teller pretty well. That is.... until they actually finally needed new shoes. Let's just shorten the story and say that after buying their own shoes for a year, the children broke the habit of leaving shoes in the yard.
But as with any system that requires someone to pay attention to it, Allowances died with a handful of paper promissary notes that amounted to a hill of beans since I ran into a cashflow problem.
This spring, I was feeling taken advantage of again.... I was buying snacks; they were eating snacks. I was doing chores; I was doing their undone chores too. I stopped buying snacks, and instead offered them each $1/day for doing all their assigned chores and being in bed "on time" (which means hitting somewhere in the target of 8-8:30). Each child had basically ONE chore to do pretty much daily, and then get in bed. I said there were just two rules- I wasn't going to nag about the chores, I would just DO IT MYSELF if I noticed it wasn't getting done. And if I did it, no allowance. Or none if you did all chores but you lollygagged at bedtime: in your room reading or watching YouTube or playing dolls or lego or whatever.
After one month of the new system, I'm happy to report I mostly stuck to buying no treats. I got cookies for one planned picnic and I bought ice cream once. Or twice. But no Graham crackers, cookies, cheese snacks, etc.
And I have given out exactly $7 between two kids.
The upside? I don't have to worry about whether I have cash in my purse to pay someone for doing chores. And, I am no longer having to police the stashes of snacks in the kitchen or find wrappers in their rooms. And, my house is clean, but at least now I feel paid to do their chores, and can buy myself a treat everyday.
My foray into Allowances began when I got really tired of always finding perfectly good shoes left outside in the brutal Austin, TX, climate to be completely destroyed by the sun and what little rain we mustered up. I mean, seriously? You peel your shoes off outside and just leave them scattered all over the yard? I tried decorative baskets and bins near the doors, which it turns out are fantastic places to stash toys, granola bar wrappers, fuzz, gravel and sand, and 3 assorted sandals of various sizes and colors and one water shoe. Clearly, the basket inside the door does not work.
I tried yelling, but we all know how that goes over.
So, one day, I lined up their shining happy faces and began to explain to them the New World Order of Our House. Allowance. There was money involved, so most of them were listening. I told them that Daddy works really hard and apportions a part of the household funds into my capable hands for allocating to the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker. We don't have any free money to just hand out willy nilly to any boy who would like to buy an endless supply of Poprocks-- but, I would like to funnel some of the household budget to THEIR grimy fingers and see what they can do with it.
One dollar per year of age, per month. They immediately set to their calculations, then rubbed their grimy hands together (producing those little balls of hot dirt that fall to the floor for me to sweep up). "We'll be RICH!" and "BooYAH!"
But wait a sec. The deal is, I don't buy shoes anymore. You buy your own.
They still seem to think this is a good idea.
And it was. This worked for a year. The poor lady at the bank would finally get it figured out: Three tens, 4 fives and 13 ones.... no wait, was that 5 fives and 12 ones... oh crap. Sorry, someone had a birthday I need more ones. The Allowances, modest as they were, cost me $50-something a month. I wasn't sure about the whole system but I was getting to know the bank teller pretty well. That is.... until they actually finally needed new shoes. Let's just shorten the story and say that after buying their own shoes for a year, the children broke the habit of leaving shoes in the yard.
But as with any system that requires someone to pay attention to it, Allowances died with a handful of paper promissary notes that amounted to a hill of beans since I ran into a cashflow problem.
This spring, I was feeling taken advantage of again.... I was buying snacks; they were eating snacks. I was doing chores; I was doing their undone chores too. I stopped buying snacks, and instead offered them each $1/day for doing all their assigned chores and being in bed "on time" (which means hitting somewhere in the target of 8-8:30). Each child had basically ONE chore to do pretty much daily, and then get in bed. I said there were just two rules- I wasn't going to nag about the chores, I would just DO IT MYSELF if I noticed it wasn't getting done. And if I did it, no allowance. Or none if you did all chores but you lollygagged at bedtime: in your room reading or watching YouTube or playing dolls or lego or whatever.
After one month of the new system, I'm happy to report I mostly stuck to buying no treats. I got cookies for one planned picnic and I bought ice cream once. Or twice. But no Graham crackers, cookies, cheese snacks, etc.
And I have given out exactly $7 between two kids.
The upside? I don't have to worry about whether I have cash in my purse to pay someone for doing chores. And, I am no longer having to police the stashes of snacks in the kitchen or find wrappers in their rooms. And, my house is clean, but at least now I feel paid to do their chores, and can buy myself a treat everyday.
Hair Cuts for Nine
Yesterday I found an instant watch on Netflix that we hadn't seen, and put all 3 girls on stools in the kitchen. I gave each of them a trim while we watched the video together. I had cut my DH's hair the night before and the boys about a week ago. Did I go to beauty college? No. I just picked up scissors and went for it. I checked out books from the library, found DVDs, watched You Tube videos. And when I get my own hair cut at a salon (occasionally, like once a year or two) I use the opportunity as a Continuing Education credit and ask questions and get tips.
Even if I managed to find coupons or go on discount days, cutting hair in my family would require an annual budget of $1287. I save by using decent scissors and a good trimmer such as this set I recently bought.
But it's not just about saving money. DIY haircuts have given my family:
Even if I managed to find coupons or go on discount days, cutting hair in my family would require an annual budget of $1287. I save by using decent scissors and a good trimmer such as this set I recently bought.
But it's not just about saving money. DIY haircuts have given my family:
- fun. It's really sort of fun to get into it, and be creative. We've had the courage to try all kinds of styles because we weren't wasting money on it. And frankly, if something comes out badly? It's hair! It grows back. I mean, that's why we need to cut it, right? It grows.
- more fun. The money we save with DIY cuts is what we get to spend on a vacation.
- style. I'm not sure we'd have ever gotten creative and adventurous with hair if we weren't DIY. DIY means having plenty of opportunity to talk as a family about what our style means to us, what it says to others, and how it affects our lives, when the kids are on my barber's stool.
- intimacy. I know my kids' heads. I know their cowlicks. I know the nape of their necks. I know where they are with self-image. I know how daring and fun they are willing to be. I know their insecurities.
- individuality. My kids are treating their hair as candles/deco on the cake. They know their hair gives "oomph" to their image, they know that their hair sends a signal to others- just like candles and deco on a cake define the cake. The inside of the cake doesn't change! But the messsage the cake sends does depend on what's on the outside. Sometimes a professional cake is needed~ but we all know that some of the most incredible looking cakes are very disappointing when you bite into them, while some of the messiest cakes have been heavenly on the tongue. So is your appearance - you can send a message to people, but what's inside is REALLY what matters.
Do you cut your kids' hair? Would you try? What about the mullet or the mohawk-- over your dead body, or whatever seems like fun for now?
Summer Lovin' Happened So Fast
No more teachers, no more books~
Starting next week I'll have my children home for the summer. Well yes, I homeschool some of them, and at times I've homeschooled all of them, so maybe I'm not exactly your test subject. But the truth is, I'm just a mom, a plain old mom, not a supermom, and I don't exactly relish the prospect of a long hot summer stuck in a housefull of kids any more the next mom.
So I am claiming this is the year of Summer Lovin. It's a short summer- the school district extended '11 to June 15, and totally changed the calendar so next year we'll get out in May... by having us start August 15. So this summer will happen fast, y'all. Come August 15, I will have 7 school-age kids and the real whirlwind in life will begin.
BTW-- you know how I've said in the past, to have some grace on moms whose babies are all under 5, because it's some of the busiest years of life?
I didn't know about "everyone is school age" yet. I am starting to think NOW I'm entering the busiest stage of my life. But- I haven't seen "everyone graduating, doing college, getting married and having babies" yet, so maybe I should just shut up.
This summer, I hereby vow:
1. To read aloud every day. Again. I miss it.
2. To make something.
3. To go camping. [Dad actually took the boys camping this weekend. I want a family camping weekend.]
4. To make popsicles with KoolAid.
5. To make cookie dough, and eat it cold.
6. To make ice cream.
7. And... let's go to Worlds of Fun and/or Oceans of Fun, too. Please????
Starting next week I'll have my children home for the summer. Well yes, I homeschool some of them, and at times I've homeschooled all of them, so maybe I'm not exactly your test subject. But the truth is, I'm just a mom, a plain old mom, not a supermom, and I don't exactly relish the prospect of a long hot summer stuck in a housefull of kids any more the next mom.
So I am claiming this is the year of Summer Lovin. It's a short summer- the school district extended '11 to June 15, and totally changed the calendar so next year we'll get out in May... by having us start August 15. So this summer will happen fast, y'all. Come August 15, I will have 7 school-age kids and the real whirlwind in life will begin.
BTW-- you know how I've said in the past, to have some grace on moms whose babies are all under 5, because it's some of the busiest years of life?
I didn't know about "everyone is school age" yet. I am starting to think NOW I'm entering the busiest stage of my life. But- I haven't seen "everyone graduating, doing college, getting married and having babies" yet, so maybe I should just shut up.
This summer, I hereby vow:
1. To read aloud every day. Again. I miss it.
2. To make something.
3. To go camping. [Dad actually took the boys camping this weekend. I want a family camping weekend.]
4. To make popsicles with KoolAid.
5. To make cookie dough, and eat it cold.
6. To make ice cream.
7. And... let's go to Worlds of Fun and/or Oceans of Fun, too. Please????
Seven Kids, Seven Things I Regret, Baby Years Edition
My baby recently turned five years old. Everywhere, I see pregnant women or newborn babies. Part of me gasps from the beauty and wonder of holding a newborn and there is a pang of jealousy. Most of me is fine that I've passed that stage, and happy I have a few years before taking on the grandparenting. (Right, boys? At least a few years, right?!?!)
So as I spent time pondering this week and wishing I had time for writing, a thought occurred to me-- talk about what I regret from the baby years.
1. I wish I'd really known then what I have just started to understand, now, about how fleet the years are. Oh, the moments are long, but the years are short indeed. When my first was born, I was still in school- I let my projects slide as I sat on the couch, half dazed and confused and half enraptured and infatuated. I quit school rather than flirt with daycare; it seemed I had no in between choices, with no family in town to care for my baby. Sometimes, though....
2. I wish I would have just finished school. I don't know HOW I could have done it back then, because really I didn't have family in my town to help me. But somehow I should have finished, rather than quitting when I was so close to the end. Not that I'd have spent the years differently, working rather than at home. I have never been organized enough for that. But it's just that now I sort of wish I wasn't 41 with an incomplete undergrad degree. For some reason it bothers me.
3. I wish I would have held them more. I know, it sounds crazy-- I was wearing them in a sling for goodness sake. I slept with them. How could I hold them more? But somehow now I can barely remember how they felt, what they smelled like, the weight in my arms. Yet at the same time, it seems I can still feel them there? It's weird, these people are not my babies yet they are.
4. I regret that I ever chose to use spanking; I wish I had completely removed it from my habits or schemas. Since I stopped, I've found it's never necessary, which makes me wonder why I ever thought it was useful. I am, however, glad that I really never let my babies cry. I'm glad I don't have that regret to live. I didn't let them cry, I picked them up. My "rule" was no one was allowed to cry for more than 1 minute for each month of age. There wasn't a lot of crying in our house- I'm glad I didn't have that stressor. I don't know how I came up with that- it was just something I did. I didn't see any reason to let them cry- and none of them is spoiled for it, either. I didn't let them cry, but I did keep firm boundaries enforced, so it was a healthy balance, I think, that has created kids who are generally pleasant companions.
5. I wish I would have been more open to really learning from older women. I complained with other young mothers that it seemed there were no older women willing to teach us. But I've found now that my kids are teens and people young enough to be my own are having babies, that they don't seem to be asking my opinion or listening to any attempts I make at sharing what I've seen and heard and learned through the years. And that made me realize- there were older women there when I was a new mom- I just didn't pay them any mind. I had the latest parenting mags and books, and I got all the wisdom I needed from the books!
6. I wish I would never have gotten a single baby-parenting book. Babies don't read books. Mothers learn to read their babies~ and that, with the guidance of the Holy Spirit ("I gently lead those who have young") is all I ever really needed. I should have spent more time communing with my Father, other mothers, and let the older moms babysit. Then the demon PPD may not have been such a tyrant in our family for so many years.
7. I regret that my children's development was in fact marred by years of PTSD, clinical depression, PPD, whatever it was. I was not a good mama when I was depressed. I wish someone would have noticed earlier and I'd have gotten help sooner. A year after the 7th baby is just really almost too late, ya know?
My man says this post needs more. He was feeling bad, thinking he'd messed up, not been good enough to keep me totally happy and successful all the time. It's all good- everything that has happened to me has served to make me who I am. I was listening to a sermon called The Rebel's Guide to Joy: Joy in Suffering. The text is Philippians. I've probably mentioned it before. The funny thing about God is that He's always trying to speak to you. This sermon series happened right after my last PPD crisis- severe attack- and after I'd been to talk to a doctor finally about my PPD and talk to her whether antidepressants would be right for me. I never did get on the antidepressants- I took supplements, got on a light-therapy regimen and reflexology practices including EFT
. And then wouldn't you know it, this sermon series popped up!
This spring, I started recognizing the stress, anxiety and symptoms of depression and started listening to this again, meditation on Philippians (yes the whole book) and memorizing it. Anyhow... be encouraged, young moms. And old moms. My kids are turning out OK despite any of my failures and regrets. Let's always lift up one another, being honest about what's hard and where we fail. I don't want anyone to think I'm some kind of supermom. I'm just doing the best I can.
So as I spent time pondering this week and wishing I had time for writing, a thought occurred to me-- talk about what I regret from the baby years.
1. I wish I'd really known then what I have just started to understand, now, about how fleet the years are. Oh, the moments are long, but the years are short indeed. When my first was born, I was still in school- I let my projects slide as I sat on the couch, half dazed and confused and half enraptured and infatuated. I quit school rather than flirt with daycare; it seemed I had no in between choices, with no family in town to care for my baby. Sometimes, though....
2. I wish I would have just finished school. I don't know HOW I could have done it back then, because really I didn't have family in my town to help me. But somehow I should have finished, rather than quitting when I was so close to the end. Not that I'd have spent the years differently, working rather than at home. I have never been organized enough for that. But it's just that now I sort of wish I wasn't 41 with an incomplete undergrad degree. For some reason it bothers me.
3. I wish I would have held them more. I know, it sounds crazy-- I was wearing them in a sling for goodness sake. I slept with them. How could I hold them more? But somehow now I can barely remember how they felt, what they smelled like, the weight in my arms. Yet at the same time, it seems I can still feel them there? It's weird, these people are not my babies yet they are.
4. I regret that I ever chose to use spanking; I wish I had completely removed it from my habits or schemas. Since I stopped, I've found it's never necessary, which makes me wonder why I ever thought it was useful. I am, however, glad that I really never let my babies cry. I'm glad I don't have that regret to live. I didn't let them cry, I picked them up. My "rule" was no one was allowed to cry for more than 1 minute for each month of age. There wasn't a lot of crying in our house- I'm glad I didn't have that stressor. I don't know how I came up with that- it was just something I did. I didn't see any reason to let them cry- and none of them is spoiled for it, either. I didn't let them cry, but I did keep firm boundaries enforced, so it was a healthy balance, I think, that has created kids who are generally pleasant companions.
5. I wish I would have been more open to really learning from older women. I complained with other young mothers that it seemed there were no older women willing to teach us. But I've found now that my kids are teens and people young enough to be my own are having babies, that they don't seem to be asking my opinion or listening to any attempts I make at sharing what I've seen and heard and learned through the years. And that made me realize- there were older women there when I was a new mom- I just didn't pay them any mind. I had the latest parenting mags and books, and I got all the wisdom I needed from the books!
6. I wish I would never have gotten a single baby-parenting book. Babies don't read books. Mothers learn to read their babies~ and that, with the guidance of the Holy Spirit ("I gently lead those who have young") is all I ever really needed. I should have spent more time communing with my Father, other mothers, and let the older moms babysit. Then the demon PPD may not have been such a tyrant in our family for so many years.
7. I regret that my children's development was in fact marred by years of PTSD, clinical depression, PPD, whatever it was. I was not a good mama when I was depressed. I wish someone would have noticed earlier and I'd have gotten help sooner. A year after the 7th baby is just really almost too late, ya know?
My man says this post needs more. He was feeling bad, thinking he'd messed up, not been good enough to keep me totally happy and successful all the time. It's all good- everything that has happened to me has served to make me who I am. I was listening to a sermon called The Rebel's Guide to Joy: Joy in Suffering. The text is Philippians. I've probably mentioned it before. The funny thing about God is that He's always trying to speak to you. This sermon series happened right after my last PPD crisis- severe attack- and after I'd been to talk to a doctor finally about my PPD and talk to her whether antidepressants would be right for me. I never did get on the antidepressants- I took supplements, got on a light-therapy regimen and reflexology practices including EFT
. And then wouldn't you know it, this sermon series popped up!This spring, I started recognizing the stress, anxiety and symptoms of depression and started listening to this again, meditation on Philippians (yes the whole book) and memorizing it. Anyhow... be encouraged, young moms. And old moms. My kids are turning out OK despite any of my failures and regrets. Let's always lift up one another, being honest about what's hard and where we fail. I don't want anyone to think I'm some kind of supermom. I'm just doing the best I can.
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