For my 40th birthday my sister gave me a trip with her to a very nice spot in the carribean. My husband was left to his own devices for five days. The morning I left, I got up at 5 am for a 7 am flight. No one was up when I left. I had left notes and detailed "reports" for my husband with everyone's weekday routine written down. Not that any of it was all unfamiliar since he is in charge each weekend when I go to work but having three kids by yourself for five days can feel a bit overwhelming when you haven't done it before.
I needn't have worried. He handled it like he handles just about everything else with some humor and a big grin. There is something about a guy who can just take on a challenge, no matter how big or small and just meet it with a smile. I am not sure how many husbands would smile and say," Sure go to a nice island in March for a week and leave me with three kids and have fun." And really mean it. Of course there were a few phone calls early the morning I left as I sat in the airport waiting for my flight. "What can I feed the baby for breakfast? What time does the bus come? Where is all the clean underwear?" I wrote it all down but who can blame him for not wanting to read it all. A woman sitting near me smiled after the third phone call and asked how many children he was alone with. I was tempted to say one just to see her reaction but I couldn't sell him out like that. I said three and gave their ages. Her face looked rather impressed.
A friend told me once she had read an article that women tend to find a husband who somehow mirrors the personality of their father. I am not sure how true that is. In the case of finances my husband and father couldn't be any more opposite. My father was not nicknamed "Dollar Bill" because he is a big spender. More so for the way he tightly clenches a dollar in his fist. My husband has no idea how to hold onto a dollar or even loose change. My dad likes a quiet day spent lounging, reading playing a little golf. My husband can hardly sit still. Over the years he has calmed his pace a bit but when we first started dating I had to beg for mercy, give me a day without something BIG planned or scheduled. To my husband a day that does not have three or more activities in it has been a lounging kind of day. My father might find that excessive.
So I had to give it more thought.
They both enjoy boating and fishing. A good glass of beer. But that is all superficial stuff. Most guys love a good cold beer and some version of fishing, trout , tuna. So I needed to dig deeper.
I thought back to my childhood and my father spending hours on the beach wtih me and my sister. Taking me out in the Sailfish around the Point. Trips to Watch Hill. I remembered the way our house morphed to suit the needs of my mother's disability and how it was jsut what it was adn then it came to me.
Devotion.
I managed to find a man who mirrored my father's devotion, committment to the words "I do". Both men are devoted fathers, caring and unyielding in their interest and support. My father loved my mother with a genuine heart and never let her down when she needed him most. My husband, although his challenge is keeping up with me mentally, still keeps pace and remains a devoted husband even at the most trying of times. They both give with a generosity of spirit that fills your soul and makes you realize they are paying attention and they love you.
I am not sure that we women try to find a man who resembles our fathers. That might just be too Freudian but if you find someone who loves you unconditionally, who navigates the bad with humor and finds the good at the end of each day then consider yourself fortunate. If you grew up with that same devotion then consider yourself blessed.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
The Reward System
A friend sent an article from The New York Times via email this morning. I read it and then went to another one written by the same journalist on happiness and kindness in our children. I found that one even more interesting. It talked about building self esteem in our children and how that is eclipsing creating kindness in our children. Forget about generation Z. Our children's generation will be known as the "all about me" generation. Our meals are planned around our children, as is our waking, our sleeping, our time alone or with our spouse. Our kids pout and we cave in, thinking we have just made some horrible mistake in a parenting choice and now our child will be ruined.
Sometimes saying no feels awful and, at least around here is it certainly repetitious. But there is a virtue to saying no. There is a silver lining to not caving in to everything. To not saying "okay sure you can have that toy for no other reason then to shut you up while I am in this store." It is just easier to take the easy way out but the more I see in my own children the
"give me" attitude the harder I am working to not give what is not necessary and to not use toys or treats as some kind of reward for things my kids should just be doing.
I recently had a meeting at my son's school. I meet once every couple months with his teacher, principal and some others involved in helping him improve his reading. It amazed me as I sat in this meeting and it went from academic discussion to discussion of his "fixation" on getting a "Good Choice Award". I had all I could do to not ask whose brilliant idea is the "Good Choice Award"? Because really you are rewarding children for being good people by giving them some treat from the dollar store. It only sets some kids up for disaster. My son received two good choice awards in one day and was so thrilled at his luck of getting two items from the principal's box of treats he talked about if for days at home. So I can understand why the teachers might have been a little frustrated if he was fixated but they have managed to create their own problem.
It is not that I think we shouldn't recognize our kids for the good things they do, but do they really need a trophy for participating in Saturday morning rec basketball? Will they be awarded when they are out in the workforce each time they do what their job description expects of them? Are we teaching them to be good citizens by rewarding them with dollar store goods or are we teaching them that being good brings rewards other than the feeling of satisfaction that they have done something good for another person.
As a kid I had chores and just did what I was told because, well I was told to do it. I did try to get out of doing those chores but once they were done there was no treat waiting for me or a trip to the store to pick out a toy. I was kind because it was expected of me adn because I watched my own parents and they way they treated people around them. We are our children's best teachers and if we teach them to do good things so they get a reward from it then we are not doing our job and our kids are really missing the greatest lesson.
My kids are completely wired for treats and rewards. They walk around the house with their hands held out in gleeful expectation. It is going to take a lot of work but I think we can change the way we do things at home and give our children the lesson that hard work and being kind has an internal reward that never stops giving.
Sometimes saying no feels awful and, at least around here is it certainly repetitious. But there is a virtue to saying no. There is a silver lining to not caving in to everything. To not saying "okay sure you can have that toy for no other reason then to shut you up while I am in this store." It is just easier to take the easy way out but the more I see in my own children the
"give me" attitude the harder I am working to not give what is not necessary and to not use toys or treats as some kind of reward for things my kids should just be doing.
I recently had a meeting at my son's school. I meet once every couple months with his teacher, principal and some others involved in helping him improve his reading. It amazed me as I sat in this meeting and it went from academic discussion to discussion of his "fixation" on getting a "Good Choice Award". I had all I could do to not ask whose brilliant idea is the "Good Choice Award"? Because really you are rewarding children for being good people by giving them some treat from the dollar store. It only sets some kids up for disaster. My son received two good choice awards in one day and was so thrilled at his luck of getting two items from the principal's box of treats he talked about if for days at home. So I can understand why the teachers might have been a little frustrated if he was fixated but they have managed to create their own problem.
It is not that I think we shouldn't recognize our kids for the good things they do, but do they really need a trophy for participating in Saturday morning rec basketball? Will they be awarded when they are out in the workforce each time they do what their job description expects of them? Are we teaching them to be good citizens by rewarding them with dollar store goods or are we teaching them that being good brings rewards other than the feeling of satisfaction that they have done something good for another person.
As a kid I had chores and just did what I was told because, well I was told to do it. I did try to get out of doing those chores but once they were done there was no treat waiting for me or a trip to the store to pick out a toy. I was kind because it was expected of me adn because I watched my own parents and they way they treated people around them. We are our children's best teachers and if we teach them to do good things so they get a reward from it then we are not doing our job and our kids are really missing the greatest lesson.
My kids are completely wired for treats and rewards. They walk around the house with their hands held out in gleeful expectation. It is going to take a lot of work but I think we can change the way we do things at home and give our children the lesson that hard work and being kind has an internal reward that never stops giving.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
My friend,the Librarian
When I was growing up our town had a small library. It was a two story building wth the second sotry more or less the basement. The parking lot had about 5 spaces and if it was a busy time you had to park on the street. You walked down a ramp and into the building. To the left was the children's department and to the right was the small elevator and the narrows stairs leading to the adult area. The children's department was cramped, as I remember it. There were cinder block walls above the shelves of books. The windows were small and too high for me to reach or see out of. But that wasn't the point. I didn't need to look out on East Main street I was there for books. My father would take almost any time I wanted to go and it always seemed to me that Mrs P was sitting behind the desk. She was the kind of person who made you feel as though the library was made for you. She had suggestions on books and after a time would know what authors I liked best and would tell me when something new had come in. She introduced me to "Runaway Ralph." She stamped books with the return date and always had a smile. It stunned me then that she could be so happy working in a basement. I had not yet come to realize the thrill of sharing books. I was just learning the thrill of reading.
As I grew older I had to move to the upstairs to get my books and it never seemed as pleasant. The librarians seemed to me to be older and didn't smile nearly as much. As time went on a new library was built. It is a beautiful library. Large and spacious, light pouring in from all directions. Mrs P is still there handing out smiles and books to a whole new generation. Her smile is still the same even though the space has changed. For a time we lived close to that library and I chose it over the large city library where we lived. I walked into the city library and no one knew who I was. No one smiled in a friendly way, the whole atmosphere was out of sync with what I knew growing up.
When we moved out to the country, the first place I went was the library. I fell in love. It is small, but open and light filled and the librarians smiled and commented on the books or movies my young son picked out. It didn't take long for some of the librarians to call us by name when we came into the library.
Over the past fives years we have frequented our library weekly. The librarians know us by name, all three children now. One of those librarians reminds me of my friend Mrs.P. I had quite an over due fine recently , which sadly is the norm not the excpetion for me. I walked into the library and smiled at Mrs.L. She smiled back and said,"What did you do now?" Relief flooded me because really I am , or at least it seems to me, always "doing something" that causes someone else to pick up my slack or help me along the way. But when she said it it was not with frustration but with that same smile she has given me and my children for the last five years. When I explained my dilemma of being unable to unearth four books she looked through the stacks and then renewed what she could and I paid the bill. On the way out she asked if my son had any more bags he might hide his books in and I had a thought. He has many bags adn he likes to hoard thing. We may show up on one of those shows one of these days. But it gave me a thought to look under the back seat of our SUV, a place I really try not to frequent and sure enough there were the books.
Librarians are special people. They are a public servent that most of us probably take for granted or may not even give much thought to what they do. But for me my love of books grew out of a small basement and a special woman with a big smile and has remained because of the other special librarians I have found along the way.
As I grew older I had to move to the upstairs to get my books and it never seemed as pleasant. The librarians seemed to me to be older and didn't smile nearly as much. As time went on a new library was built. It is a beautiful library. Large and spacious, light pouring in from all directions. Mrs P is still there handing out smiles and books to a whole new generation. Her smile is still the same even though the space has changed. For a time we lived close to that library and I chose it over the large city library where we lived. I walked into the city library and no one knew who I was. No one smiled in a friendly way, the whole atmosphere was out of sync with what I knew growing up.
When we moved out to the country, the first place I went was the library. I fell in love. It is small, but open and light filled and the librarians smiled and commented on the books or movies my young son picked out. It didn't take long for some of the librarians to call us by name when we came into the library.
Over the past fives years we have frequented our library weekly. The librarians know us by name, all three children now. One of those librarians reminds me of my friend Mrs.P. I had quite an over due fine recently , which sadly is the norm not the excpetion for me. I walked into the library and smiled at Mrs.L. She smiled back and said,"What did you do now?" Relief flooded me because really I am , or at least it seems to me, always "doing something" that causes someone else to pick up my slack or help me along the way. But when she said it it was not with frustration but with that same smile she has given me and my children for the last five years. When I explained my dilemma of being unable to unearth four books she looked through the stacks and then renewed what she could and I paid the bill. On the way out she asked if my son had any more bags he might hide his books in and I had a thought. He has many bags adn he likes to hoard thing. We may show up on one of those shows one of these days. But it gave me a thought to look under the back seat of our SUV, a place I really try not to frequent and sure enough there were the books.
Librarians are special people. They are a public servent that most of us probably take for granted or may not even give much thought to what they do. But for me my love of books grew out of a small basement and a special woman with a big smile and has remained because of the other special librarians I have found along the way.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Compost how I love thee
I can see grass. My lawn is appearing after a very long hiatus. I am happy to see some dark green through the grey snow. I can see where my perenial gardens have been sleeping. The snow receded overnight to reveal shovels,sleds and some miscellaneous objects that don't belong on the yard. Our garden fence took a beating and needs more then just some simple repairs. The weight of the snow collapsed the tree trunks that my husband so carefully placed. It looks sad and battered but my husband has already drawn a new plan for this years crops and some seeds have already been bought. A new fence will be in place soon. I passed the garden center on my way to work this weekend and their door was open, not open for business but I can tell it is near. It is March and the rhythym of spring is bouncing in my veins.
My compost bin,which has been devoured by snow since January has been discovered. I had forgotten exactly where it was. My counter bucket just reappeared on the back porch where I eveidently left it before that first storm. It has been cleaned out and returned where it belongs. I hate to admit it but I have not composted this winter. It has been impossible for me to muster the stamina to get to the bin in the backyard. It required too much preparation. Boots, gloves,hat, coat, scarf. It is just like dressing your kids to play outside and having them back in the house in five minutes. Not quite worth all the effort. I did throw many things out into the backyard ,hoping some animals who were scrounging for food would help themselves, but for those of you who don't compost this is not a standard or recommended practice. All I can see now are some very fat squirrels barely able to run through my yard.
This morning I can see more of yard then I have seen since January. There was a layer of fog only seen in a bad B movie, hovering just slightly above the ground. The snow is melting at an incredible clip and the air smells sweet. The metallic smell of winter has faded. I have pulled my gardening gloves from their resting place to replace my winter gloves. My wool hat has been exchanged for the billowing spectacle known as my "shade hat" My Wellies are standing at attention next to my rake. My snow shovel is put away and my flat garden shovel ready to make a new garden in the coming weeks. I can taste the sweetness of food grown in my backyard and smell the tender air that will surround my honeysuckle bush.
My compost is back in business. My counter bucket is full this morning and ready to be placed among the other scraps that will work their magic, turning peels and coffee grinds into sweet smelling soil that will give us another round of cucumbers,eggplant and tomatoes. The walk is easy now, I don't even need a coat and who doesn't love sloshing through the mud?
For those naysayers who say snow could still come, I'm sorry I can't hear you. There are some birds chirping in my ears and I am blinded by the bliss I see just around the corner.
My compost bin,which has been devoured by snow since January has been discovered. I had forgotten exactly where it was. My counter bucket just reappeared on the back porch where I eveidently left it before that first storm. It has been cleaned out and returned where it belongs. I hate to admit it but I have not composted this winter. It has been impossible for me to muster the stamina to get to the bin in the backyard. It required too much preparation. Boots, gloves,hat, coat, scarf. It is just like dressing your kids to play outside and having them back in the house in five minutes. Not quite worth all the effort. I did throw many things out into the backyard ,hoping some animals who were scrounging for food would help themselves, but for those of you who don't compost this is not a standard or recommended practice. All I can see now are some very fat squirrels barely able to run through my yard.
This morning I can see more of yard then I have seen since January. There was a layer of fog only seen in a bad B movie, hovering just slightly above the ground. The snow is melting at an incredible clip and the air smells sweet. The metallic smell of winter has faded. I have pulled my gardening gloves from their resting place to replace my winter gloves. My wool hat has been exchanged for the billowing spectacle known as my "shade hat" My Wellies are standing at attention next to my rake. My snow shovel is put away and my flat garden shovel ready to make a new garden in the coming weeks. I can taste the sweetness of food grown in my backyard and smell the tender air that will surround my honeysuckle bush.
My compost is back in business. My counter bucket is full this morning and ready to be placed among the other scraps that will work their magic, turning peels and coffee grinds into sweet smelling soil that will give us another round of cucumbers,eggplant and tomatoes. The walk is easy now, I don't even need a coat and who doesn't love sloshing through the mud?
For those naysayers who say snow could still come, I'm sorry I can't hear you. There are some birds chirping in my ears and I am blinded by the bliss I see just around the corner.
Monday, January 31, 2011
A Moment of Silence: Day One
My children have been home from school for a week now. I won't go into the gory details. We all have our stories, don't we? Last week I was watching Oprah and she and Goldie Hawn were talking about finding true happiness. What in life makes us happy. Oprah swears having time alone and being quiet will raise you up, bring inner peace, be good for your spirit. Dropping my kids off at her house for a week would bring me some inner peace. But since I cannot do that, I decided I would try some silence.
So for my first attempt I did as Oprah suggested I locked myself in the bathroom.
5:05 pm Shut bathroom door.
5:05 pm Knock at the door and it opens, thought I locked it.
Cooper: "Mom why are you sitting on the toilet all dressed?"
Me: "Please shut the door!"
Cooper: "okay but can you get me a drink? I haven't had one for all day." Sticks his tongue out to show me just how dehydrated he really is.
One millisecond later:
Drake "MOM! MOM! Where are you?"
ME:
Drake: "MOM!? " Door opens and a surprised 8 year old stares. "What are you doing sitting on the toilet like that?"
ME: "Privacy! Can I have some privacy in my own bathroom?"
Drake "Okay but you're doing it wrong. And can you tell Cooper to leave me alone? He keeps bothering me, saying stuff like..."
I get up and shut the door on him. I can hear him still talking through the door but it is muffled enough that I pretend not to hear. I look at my watch I have spent a minute in the bathroom and I have succeeded in having one millisecond of silence. I think Oprah asked for just one minute a day. She said give her just one minute. I guess she really doesn't know how long a minute can be in a house with three kids. Oh well there is always tomorrow...
So for my first attempt I did as Oprah suggested I locked myself in the bathroom.
5:05 pm Shut bathroom door.
5:05 pm Knock at the door and it opens, thought I locked it.
Cooper: "Mom why are you sitting on the toilet all dressed?"
Me: "Please shut the door!"
Cooper: "okay but can you get me a drink? I haven't had one for all day." Sticks his tongue out to show me just how dehydrated he really is.
One millisecond later:
Drake "MOM! MOM! Where are you?"
ME:
Drake: "MOM!? " Door opens and a surprised 8 year old stares. "What are you doing sitting on the toilet like that?"
ME: "Privacy! Can I have some privacy in my own bathroom?"
Drake "Okay but you're doing it wrong. And can you tell Cooper to leave me alone? He keeps bothering me, saying stuff like..."
I get up and shut the door on him. I can hear him still talking through the door but it is muffled enough that I pretend not to hear. I look at my watch I have spent a minute in the bathroom and I have succeeded in having one millisecond of silence. I think Oprah asked for just one minute a day. She said give her just one minute. I guess she really doesn't know how long a minute can be in a house with three kids. Oh well there is always tomorrow...
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