Suburban (in)Sanity

Your parenting tip for the day: Bookmarks for the kids

Parenting Tip: Create a folder of Bookmarks for each child

My kids love playing on the computer. I'm on the computer a lot during the day while they're in school and I often come across a site or activity that I think they would enjoy.

After a few too many "browsers of doom" where I had 12, 15 open tabs just waiting to show the kids, I started a bookmark folder for each kid. This way I can put bookmarks in for pages I think they might be interested in and then *close the webpage.* This has done wonders for my digital sanity, though I still have a digital hygeine problem as explained below.

My own bookmarks are ridiculous, I don't keep anything in there, at least not anymore in the tangle of sites I originally bookmarked in 2003. It's the curse of a visual-spatial person, I can't ever find the things I want no matter how carefully I try to create folder structures and organizational schemes. I swear my digital organization is worse than my physical organization, and that's saying something!

However, for my kids I can manage a reasonable number of bookmarks. Right? (Right??!)

Some of the tidbits in there right now:

Liam's folder:

• Crowdsourcing space exploration tool called Zooniverse that I want to be a part of, too!
• Legends of Druidawn interactive creative writing game (click the link at the very bottom of the page to see the genesis of this site - creative writing solutions it says.)
• A site to convert text to multimedia, like the bunny/mouse characters speaking in tinny computerized voices reading scripts that people wrote....whatever that one is called. Note to self, this would be great to use in Media and Design classes...
• The requisite Lego recreation of something totally AWESOME, this one is Middle Earth.

Anastasia's folder:

• Tree of Life web project - collection of information about biodiversity compiled by amatuers and experts alike.
• How to make friendship bracelets (I'm totally in the clear on the website name since she thinks WTF stands for Why the Face?)
• A music video of an 8 year old girl singing a hardcore (punk rock) song. She's always making videos herself and I think needs a little inspiration, since the script is often the limiting factor.
• A make your own snowflake picture (online) site. Love this.

So I challenge you to go forth and make a folder for each of your children and drop in fun tidbits and cool sites that they might like. Also a good place to put book recommendations, particularly if you're parenting a tween who might not want to actually ASK you for ideas. (P.S., if you don't know this about me already, know that I can talk your ear off with recommendations for books for kids ages 8-18. Please ask! Give me an excuse to talk your ear off!)

Come back and report on the great sites you found! Perhaps one day we'll do this all in pinterest... ;)

If you should come to our house this holiday season...

If you should come to our house this holiday season, I hope you will see the chaos and think kindly of us.

When you see food on the counter or a fridge bursting with veggies, yogurt, eggs, and leftovers, I hope you'll know we are grateful to have plenty to eat.

When you see the dog gates and dog toys everywhere, I hope you'll think we are smart to introduce our kids to the joys and responsibilities of pet ownership.

When you see messy floors, I hope you'll think that we're too busy making memories to be very good housekeepers.

When you see a thousand and one projects in-process with masking tape and posterboard and sewing machines and string and bits of foil and partly-decorated cookies and tally sheets and dice and building blocks and legos and bottles partly filled with powders of uncertain origin, I hope you'll appreciate that letting the kids explore and learn and live their lives with us in this space is what we signed on for when we became parents.

If you come to our house this holiday season I hope you'll know that the greatest gift each of us have to give and receive is the gift of our time, and we look forward to spending some with you.

Just what do you *DO* all day?

I read this great q/a post by Carolyn Hax in the Washington Post today and almost got whiplash from nodding so vehemently. Even the most sensitive husband (again I remind you that I write from the point of view of the sometimes stay-at-home wife/mom, who also works sometimes, writes, volunteers, and does a thousand other things. This list is likely true/similar for at-home parents of both genders) has come home once in a while and asked - audibly or not - what did you do all day?

A small list of the kinds of things we at-home parents do (yes, yes, some working parents do these tasks too. Trust me, when I'm working I do all this PLUS work. But again, in the interests of the argument I'm making, just go with me on this):

• All food prep, including all food planning (this includes not just what to serve for dinner, but shopping in advance to be sure the materials are on hand)
• Junk mail handling/sorting
• Any sort of coupon clipping in the house (including finding the random useful coupons amidst the junkmail storm)
• Anticipating kids' needs/desires for food for packed lunches and meals
• Tidying up. Ad nauseum.
• Family photo management - including thoughtful christmas card selection, photos into frames, selecting and arranging payment for photos from school and sporting events)
• Family taxi - to and from sporting events, clubs, classes, school/bus stop)
• Family video management
• Some of pet care, generally along the planning and anticipating lines - planning for boarding for vacations, purchasing food, litter, beds, leashes, etc.
• Anticipating children's growth patterns and purchasing (on sale!) the right clothing in the right sizes for the right seasons.
• Buying new shoes every three months.
• Paying enough attention to notice the kids are outgrowing their shoes/socks/underwear/knowing that shoes/socks/underwear are on sale at XYZ store and pre-buying to not have to buy full-price at some point in the not-too-distant future. Damn kids keep growing.
• Family healthcare - dentist, orthodontist, annual physicals, sick visits, ob/gyn and personal health care including mamograms, colonoscopies, other "it sucks getting old" care
• Extended family healthcare - staying informed about aging parents or single siblings' health challenges, attending some doctors visits or coordinating care for some situations
• Pet healthcare - vet visits, maintaining vaccination schedules, administering medicines, exercise
• Reading material monitoring - staying in tune with what kids are reading, purchasing books needed, shuttling to library, approving selections
• Homework assistance, including the creation of whatever structure necessary to ensure homework actually can be completed - quiet zones, clean desks, writing implements available
• Monitoring of digital media consumption by the short folks, knowing what they're watching/playing, approving, limiting, dealing with the whining that comes from setting those limits
• School management - school library book remindings, school field trip forms, class parties, birthday celebrations (your own and others)
• Volunteering for one of the thousand things school/sports teams request - bringing juice boxes to practice or helping lead a small reading group, and many variations in between.
• Household maintenance and management - furnace and a/c care, lawn and garden scheduling, cable and phone, plumbing, exterminators, water services, waste haulers, handling any of the emergency services needed and keeping track of paperwork
• Household chores - dishes, laundry (including handwash items, knowing which things must air dry, separating colors), putting away laundry
• Child clothing management - migrating between cold weather wardrobe and warm weather wardrobe, and all accompanying accessories - boots, snowpants, coats (see aforementioned point on making sure to purchase, on sale!, these items for the next size for the next season) swim goggles.
• Seasonal management - making sure the household has non-toxic and non-expired sunscreen, bug spray, beach toys, towels, bags, snow shovels, gas for the snowblower.
• Holiday management - decorations, gift selection and purchase, wrapping, creating family plans that leave the fewest family members miffed
• Answering eleventy billion questions about life, the universe, and everything. Today I had to whip out BOTH f=m*a and the explanation for how many bits are in a byte, bytes in a kilobyte, megabyte, gigabyte, terrabyte, etc. Thank god I paid attention in high school physics and college CS classes. Previous sessions include the branches of government and spirituality. I had a great role model, for the record. When I was about 12 my mom sat with me and taught me both binary and hexadecimal. Go geek moms!

So, what would you add to my list? And has your head exploded yet at the fact that not an item on there is focused on delivering to the at-home parent some level of intellectual stimulation? We have to source that into our activities - making a game out of knowing which store has which items on sale each week, meeting like-minded folks through the various volunteer and child activities, and finding flexible hobbies that can be set aside for months or years at a time (scrapbooking, writing, reading, photography, knitting for ex.)

Redefining who we are depending on what we're doing at the moment

One of the more unusual things about being an into/out of the workforce parent (sometimes called the "primary at home parent" and also the "Stay at Home Mom" but of course there's nothing particularly stay-at-homish about being the one who has the more flexible schedule, and of course it's not unique to moms, but let's just call it an into/out of the workforce parent for now) is the way we're constantly having to redefine ourselves. Refine our own personal message, our own "branding." And in the course of it, sometimes I think we lose track of important details.

Like, for instance, our extensive experience or advanced degree(s.)

I had something happen tonight that brought this to light. I have done some work at a client recently, which is also coincidentally where my husband works (not much coincidental about it, he passed my contact info along to someone in the org who needed the kind of tech consulting work I do - eLearning strategy, design and development.) They're doing a writeup, and in the course of it they're writing up my contribution to a recent project.

So, I know what my experience is. I know what I'm good at. I'm happy with my station in life. And yet I looked at this writeup and wondered who the heck that smart, awesome girl they were talking about was.

Oh. Me?

And it occurred to me that I'm so deep into the summer by now, the time with the kids, this godforsaken puppy (note to self: no more puppies!) the household priorities, that I've kind of put the "other" me on a backburner for the summer. I'm letting the writer me have second billing, right after the mommy me, but the eLearning strategist/designer? She's on summer hiatus. She's elsewhere in my brain.

And therein lies the rub, because in redefining myself for the summer, I almost lost a bit of me. And I think back to all the times in the kids' lives when I've had to refocus, change my way of thinking about myself or my approach with them when something isn't working for us (classic example: when at 3 months pregnant with our second I/we realized I. Just. Couldn't. Do. This. Anymore. And we started the thought process and transition toward me staying home with the kids for a while.) And I wonder what other parts of me have gone missing in there?

Do you ever feel like you've lost part of you while you're redefining yourself to meet your current needs and situation?

To all my mother friends: Let it go

Look, we've been friends a while. I love you all dearly. And I'm here to tell you tonight, late on the eve of Mother's Day, to just let it go. Whatever your personal "it" is - just let it...go. Yoga teachers talk a lot about the "acknowledge the thought and release it" business. If you want to get metaphysical, go with that. But otherwise, just let it go.

Because, here's the thing. There's this cultural norm, cultural expectation, that Mother's Day is - what? A bed of white linens (snort. Be serious. Who has the time for white linens after children?) Uninterrupted sleep (double snort - what did you HONESTLY think was going to happen after the stick turned pink? Come on. You can sleep when you're dead. In the interim, these small people SAY and DO the most INTERESTING things! Put them off with a bit of Scooby Doo for an hour or two, but then wake up. By the way, 99% of the last four sentences was directed at me.)

If not the white linens and uninterrupted sleep, at the very least we expect a day without the drudgery, right? I see you all nodding your heads.

But be honest, ladies! First, if you really do leave everyone else to do the laundry, you must accept a certain pink or beige hue to your white linens. Are you able to accept that? If not, maybe you should just save the laundry for Monday, no? Dishes? Well, that can be delegated, I agree, but if you're doing the majority of the cooking in the house, you should damn well train the sprites to do the dishes *every* day, not just on Mother's Day. Kids love responsibility. And as I tell my kids all the time, "I don't *like* folding clothes. It's just one of the things we have to do because we are a FAMILY."

I am using a LOT OF CAPITALS in this post. A LOT! And exclamations! And *asterisks* - loads and loads of *asterisks.*

But here's the thing - if you could design a day to celebrate your becoming a mother, what would it really entail? Maybe a little extra sleep? A little less drudgery? A cake and/or pie? (I vote for "and")

This is *TOTALLY* within the realm of possibility for you. But the tv-commercial vision with the white sheets, sweet song playing in the background, and the sunshine just so? It's time to give up on that one.

Kids are messy. Families are needy. Everyone else had the same idea and is waiting in line at YOUR favorite restaurant. Send the husband and the whiniest child(ren) to the grocery for a few favorite ingredients, make a mess making dinner and ask him/them to clean up. And don't stress about being a martyr. Becoming a mother *is* a form of self-sacrifice. An extreme form, true. But I honestly think we make ourselves sick and upset over not getting the perfect day, when we forget that there just AREN'T perfect days in motherhood. There are perfect moments, and many of them. Perfect pictures drawn by chubby three-year-old hands. Perfectly burned toast, lovingly delivered in bed. Perfect smiles and perfect hugs, perfect dog kisses. Perfect dirt waiting for seeds and plants. Perfectly dirty pants as a result of gardening expeditions. Perfect baby teeth, lost and waiting for tooth fairies. Perfect notes written in imperfect handwriting. Perfect love.

So join me in letting go of the imperfect expectations for a perfect day. Because, in the final analysis, there is no tally over who got the fresh-squeezed orange juice and a rose at her bedside in the morning (truth be told there's probably a mountain of orange pulp and an inch of sticky residue on her countertop!) or who got to sleep the latest (though I am trying out for that honor this year. I hope to make it til at least 10 AM...) and did the least work on Mother's Day. And on your deathbed, you won't be cursing your youngest for tracking in dirt and seeds and making a fuss over her newly potted herbs. You'll remember the moments, the big smiles when you wake up (at long last), the memories of gardening with the kids, the family dinners you made such a regular part of the fabric of your family that they all blend together into one big mush at the dinner table.

And you can rest easy. Because you've let it go. Just not the cake/pie. I think that's a requirement.

Things that make my head burst into flames

I've been working in my chosen career since I was nineteen years old. I started as a part-time college intern. Three, four, five days a week I would drop my books and notebooks off in my dorm room, change into something that vaguely resembled business attire (back in the days when women did *not* wear pantsuits. And I'm not even making that up. I remember when the first woman in the area started wearing pantsuits to work - not pants/tops as separates, but like a men's business suit but cut for a woman. No, it wasn't the 1980s. It was the 1990s for chrissake! Oh, right, I'm old. Erp.) and hop the train into the city to go to work. There were days when I had to make sure to work at least two hours, because if I only worked one, I didn't quite make the train fare to/from work (at my starting rate of about $6.37/hr.)

I've worked more years than I haven't. And I took time off to raise my kids. Because it's something that was important to me, but it was also something that was the right timing for us - my career had reached a lull, I had lost one job and a new job wasn't quite the right fit for me, so we reconsidered priorities, wrote a budget, and...I've blogged about this before.

But the thing that has always made my head burst into flames is the fact that I work hard, damn hard, and just as hard as anybody else (harder than some, too.) And I'm quick. And productive. And my time is worth it. This is even more important in the post-baby-working-years because I have these heart-stoppingly painful conversations with my 7 year old, who tonight at bedtime when I was reviewing the week's schedule and mentioning when I would be in the office, told me "we're not going to have to have a babysitter again?" Because last week once I had to have a sitter take care of the kids after school for a few hours so I could do a video shoot at work. And she noticed. And while the sitter does a nice job, and the daughter benefits from other people in the world caring about her and interacting with her, she just doesn't like it. So rip my heart out and serve it on a platter, shall we? Ugh. This part about working is not the best part, but I console myself with the idea that I'm working and contributing and setting a good example, and I've got a pretty great part-time gig that flexes around my family's commitments and lets me be the mom most of the time and...then I read this sort of shit and it makes my head burst into flames. (that article references this one which is where the actual combustion occurs)

Because HOW CAN IT BE 2011 and this is still happening?!?!?

And how can a writer write this passage and not have her own head explode into flames?

Simply put, many women—not all, but enough to have a big impact on the statistics—are willing to trade higher pay for other desirable job characteristics.

Because I just don't get it.

Meanwhile, the original poster (the one who I agree with) says the following:

I would also love to know why, if pay is so equal, women with kids are paid less than men with kids. I'm sure that some will explain it by saying that women decided to take time off to raise up the young'ins, and therefore lose market share. I can see how that would affect lifetime earnings. However, I am confused as to why, then, a woman who is employed at a job with the same experience as a man still earns less than he does.

Exactly!

I heard this from a company I worked with when first returning to the my field after a 5 year gap to raise my babies. "Oh, the industry has changed, technology is different, therefore we'll pay you this lower rate because honestly you're 5 years behind but aren't you lucky to get to work with us?"

I went on to do development on a project when I was only assigned to do design (tech friends will know these pay at VERY different pay scales - and my background is tracked more toward design, though I'm learning now how to spin things so that this isn't as much of a factor) and discovered that while I was off for 5 years, what the industry did was build authoring tools to automate much of what we used to have to code by hand. The industry just basically caught up with me, and gave me additional tools to work with. I wasn't behind in the slightest. I still get mad thinking about this experience. Bah!

As my friend Veronica (a nuclear engineer from Argentina, and someone else who has chosen to do the kind of sequencing I've done, taking time off to raise children, planning to come back again to the workforce in the future) says, "Infuriating. It is a double discrimination: one that considers that the work of raising a child (a human being!!!) is useless and another one that sentences a woman to a lower wage because she was "wasting her time" while everybody else was doing more productive things. It makes me furious. I think that before this pay discrimination disappears, society must recognize - and include in the economy - child rearing work. Until these activities are not seen for what they are (an indispensable contribution to the development of the human race) we will be punished for raising our kids."

Is that what it is? A punishment? Why aren't we all marching on our various government offices *now*? Oh, that's right, because there are school lunches to make, diapers to change, babies to nurse, field trips to chaperone, teenagers to equip with the skills to survive their adolescence. And work to be done.

Quantities of Quality Time

Hmm, I wrote this on Wednesday but then didn't post it. My sloth extended to my online time, too, apparently.

I find myself reminded again about this maxim (Quantities of Quality Time), which I first heard at a La Leche League meeting ages and ages ago. It's often one of the underpinnings of one's decision to stay home with the kids for some period of time, or at least I found that it helped me feel comfortable with my own decision to do so. Even on the days when I swore my brain was melting from lack of use. (I'm sure you're as relieved as me to find out that it didn't, even though there were some touchy moments back then.)

But beyond just that decision, which - by the way - I've noticed more of my mom friends making over and over again - viewing the workforce as something they can dip into and out of over their children's younger years. I am thrilled about this development. I have done this, too, doing project work at times that suits my family's schedule, and either turning down or not pursuing work during times when it's difficult (e.g.., summer holidays or busy times of year.)

I can count many friends right now who are either working again or have recently stopped working, again (having been home with the kids at some point since having them.) Isn't that interesting? One just decided to refrain from taking any more project work until the fall when the youngest is in school full-time, another just picked up some freelance work after pre-school started, a third was back in the workforce for a bit but quit when job pressures began to outweigh family ones and she (and her husband) felt the balance wasn't right for them. 

I recognize I'm lucky to live in an era and socio-economic environment where any of us have these choices, but at the same time I also embrace the fact that this is the feminist legacy - that has given my generation of mothers and the one directly behind me some freedom to choose. While I know some of my peers really don't have a choice and must work, I think we are in an era where there are more options for us, more choices, and for that I am grateful.  

But back to my original point - the quantities of quality time...today is nothing special. I was in the office today, which makes for a long day for me, but I was able to get the kids by the time school let out rather than using after-school care. And we came home and have done some hanging out. The eldest is currently in the comfiest chair in the house (in another room), reading. The youngest is up in my bedroom watching TV. I am snuggled into the couch with the dog, who misses me on my office days. ;) And my kids are here, and we're home, and the world is in balance.

Even though the house is a bit...untidy (I'm being over-generous with that statement, but let it slide, folks, let it slide...) I have some of that awesome 5 mins a day bread resting on the counter and the oven on. We're going to eat soon, and then snuggle in further with the dog to watch American Idol. And maybe some video-game time. And I realize that there are a thousand educational things I could do with my kids, and a thousand ways I could make this time more memorable - we could do a project together, play a game, or have them help me cook. But I am satisfied in my sloth, because they have a LOT of me. And we're together. And that's what's important to me, and to them, right now at this stage in our lives.

The fact that I have quantities of quality time with them means that I don t have to put pressure on myself or them to always bring my "A" game - and it means they're pretty darn accepting of me and my limitations. When I do have a hissy fit about something minor and later apologize, they are so gracious to me. We show each other that we're human in those small ways. And today, we can just snuggle on the couch and be together, and that is enough. That is plenty. And we are lucky.

On being a Mom and a Writer

I originally wrote this for a writer's board I participate on, but it relates so well to what I talk about on this blog that I wanted to share it here, too. The context is that another writer was complaining that she is limited in her reach right not because she's a mom. This is my reply:

I want to give a little working/writing/mom love. Being a mom is a really important job. The kids really benefit from all we do. When they are small it can be very brain-sucking work (just how many times do I have to tell Junior here that hitting his baby sister with Thomas the Tank Engine is Not Appropriate Behavior In Our House?) But on the flip side, there is IMMENSE creativity required in parenting, as any mother who has escaped the grocery store without buying the entire contents of the candy traps at the checkout desk can attest to. "How many green things can you count? Show me your toes. Show me your nose! What's that letter? What should we have for dinner? Let's sing Wheels on the Bus!" -- and now those of you who don't have children might better understand the slightly insane glint in our eyes as we exit the grocery store parking lot...

Immense creativity. I'm 100% convinced it has helped me be a better writer.

The most stunningly awesome amazing unbelievable thing that has happened? Context: I decided to start writing as a New Years Resolution in 2007 when my youngest was just 3. My now 7 year old writes the most amazing stories, they are *unreal.* She is publishable at age 7 and you just have to believe me that I'm not being overly dramatic. (The 9 year old is also interested in writing but hasn't yet mastered the ability to move the pictures from behind his forehead to the page. He's getting there.)

I haven't done anything specific with the 7 year old to develop this skill, other than immersing our family in the world of stories. We read stories constantly, we listen to audio books, we tell each other stories, she reads my stories, she is so entrenched in the world of storytelling that she naturally tells beautiful stories in her 1st grade assignments. It's honestly astonishing. And when she fills in the little worksheets to tell her classmates about her family, you know what she puts by my name, even though I actually make my career elsewhere?

Author. 

So don't for a minute doubt the time you're investing in your children while they are young. It is worth it, and there is time yet. And your creativity is sparked every day. And before long you find yourself writing the stories your children are begging you to write, because they're your biggest fans and you want to please them.

Further musings on kids' activities, in which I let my children skip things

I needed to read this today, which chronicles the real costs of parental pressure.

Because as I've talked about several times before, I'm really torn on the question of how many activities to sign kids up for (because let's be honest "letting" them sign up for things involves the parent actually filling out the paperwork and writing the checks, obtaining the uniforms and special footwear, writing more checks for recital costumes and music stands and teacher/coach gifts and extra fees, and shuttling them to and from each and every activity and...)

I think some of my ambiguity comes from the fact that many activities have separate "additional" components that are either hard to predict, poorly timed, or not something that particularly appeals to me or the child. We made up so many rained-out softball games last spring/summer that there were weeks where my then-6 year-old played softball four days out of seven. Even the most ardent fan of the game (and she was not particularly ardent, though she enjoyed being with friends) might not keep up with their interest at that pace.

The band that my son plays in through school (I plan to write a separate post at some point about how my Facebook friends convinced me that letting him sign up for band was a good idea) has extra concerts - some optional, some mandatory. Tonight's I believe is mandatory. Oops. He's enjoying the process of learning to play the clarinet, and I'm glad for that opportunity, but with all the extras with band, I think it's going to become optional next year.

This past weekend there was a gymnastics meet on Sunday. Every meet we've had thus far in the 3 years my son has been on this team have taken place on Sunday mornings at 8, 9 or 10 AM, depending on how far away they are. With that in mind, we made arrangements to stay with friends Saturday night near the meet location (40 miles from home.) And three days before the meet, the time was finally announced. 4 PM would have been the first event. Uhh...

So I feel just a smidge guilty because I recognize at this point my son's participation in these kinds of activities is really up to me to get him there. He's a happy go-lucky kid, he'll participate in most anything if I get him there. But is that really the right choice for our family? Being out all day Sunday, getting home at or after bedtime (meets often run 3+ hours, plus the 40 mile commute...) -- did that make sense? A weeknight concert, late start time, more time away from home on a school night?

Maybe. If these were his only opportunities to have the performance/competition experience, I might feel differently, but since by now they're just adding to his performance and competition experience (and he's happy go-lucky, he doesn't get particularly nervous. Remember? My kids always get picked first.)

Am I sending the wrong message to ask my kids to skip some activities? To accidentally take so long in finding a dance class that by the time we do go in to sign up all the classes are full? (or to take a deep relieved breath upon hearing that news, as it means one fewer $85 recital costume and all-day rehearsal in my future.)

We've reached an interesting milestone in our family for this summer. We have collectively decided to only sign up for one session of swim lessons (and truthfully, that's mommy deciding there - the lessons are very close to home, indoors so all-weather, and not very expensive. Plus if mommy were to be really really honest with everyone, even though mommy is a Pisces and a passable swimmer herself, she has some water-related fears. Having someone else [1] impart swimming knowledge and skills onto said children is worth it.)

Other than one session of swim lessons, the kids are not going to sign up for a single camp or lesson. No piano, no science camp, no day camp at school, no tennis, nothing. The gymnast might even skip gymnastics for the summer, depending on his decision around gymnastics for next school year (if he's going to continue on in gymnastics he'll continue this summer, but if he plans to drop it, we can drop it by the end of meet season in late May.)

Just think, a whole summer full of opportunities for the kids to tie each other up!

While it's possible we'll be certifiably insane by June 11, hopefully this will give us all some breathing room, and some time at home/library/new swimming pool in town. Is it wrong that I'm already eagerly anticipating the start of summer?

[1] Enthusiastic[2] teen members of the high school's swim team

[2] Is there any other kind of teen member of a swim team?

 

It is my duty and my privilege

To see my children off to sleep each night.

This has not changed since they were babies. The older is now 9. The younger is now 7.

I was reminded of this fact when talking with a friend earlier in the week who is going through a challenging period of many nighttime wakings with her 14ish month old. I, too, went through that time. And one sanity-saver was knowing that it was worth it. It was my duty and my privilege to see my children off to sleep. And I was just one parent with one (or two, or more) baby walking the halls with her at night and all over the world there were other parents up like me, walking, tending, nursing, listening, cleaning up the puke and administering the ibuprofin and worrying and waiting and hugging and back-rubbing and...

Tonight, the younger needed cuddles and calming, having reached hysterics over a ... just one of those things when the world doesn't quite match her expectations and she lost it. So she needed not much talking, lots of cuddles and back rubbing, and a judicious application of doggy, who listens best to me so it was important that I was there to entice doggy into the bed. Dog is smarter than most humans and instantly read the situation right. She stretched out out next to the distraught girl, long dog, lacing her head over the top of her hip and in perfect range for much ear scratching by the 7 year old.

The 9 year old didn't need much tonight, but as we lay together, I learned more about his day than I could have through any other means. I heard about the hockey stick that broke today, the various theories as to the perpetrator's identity. Then more discussion where it becomes clear that there wasn't really a perpetrator, nobody was in trouble. And he played Apples to Apples. And the vocabulary test was pretty easy (and he got a 94% and I could reinforce the importance of the studying he had done with me and the 7 year old earlier in the week.) And he asked about the power outage during the day, and whether we had water during that time (we didn't, as we are on a private well.) So I explained that when the power goes out, the well doesn't pump, the house is out of water. Except for each toilet's one flush-worth of a tank, as well as the reverse osmosis tank, which led to a conversation about RO water and why we have that kind of water, and the kind of refrigerators where the water comes out the door, which we don't have, and how mommy wants one. And then he sang a song about coconuts.

You know, none of this was particularly earth-shattering. None of it was absolutely essential. If we went til tomorrow, the next day, the day after, and didn't talk about any of these things, it wouldn't have mattered in the slightest.

Except that it matters. It matters. And it's worth it.

Think of the power of that moment - when your body turns from wakefulness to sleep. For some (my darling husband, for example) that change happens in an instant, mere minutes after laying their heads down. For others of us, it comes later, after our brains process most everything we went through that day, or the ideas in our minds play out in a helter-skelter fast-forward, jumping from idea to idea, no logical sense other than the sense our brains need to prepare for the journey that is sleep.

And it is my duty, and my privilege, to accompany them on the start of that journey each night.