Literal Mom

Privacy, Defined by a 10 Year Old

Big G recently had a "talk" with Little Iggy about privacy:

Big G:  Little Iggy, I need to tell mom about what you did last night.  It's all about the importance of privacy.

Little Iggy:  Ok, Big G.

Big G:  See, when the babysitter's here, I don't want you telling her that sometimes I only pretend to brush my teeth before bed.  That's rude and it's an invasion of privacy.

Little Iggy:  But it's true.

Big G:  It doesn't matter if it's true.  My business is MY business and I don't want you sharing it with the sitters anymore.  Do you understand?

Little Iggy:  Aye-Aye, Captain!

Big G:  I'm totally serious!  Mooommmm, she's not taking me seriously!

And while I smirked through the whole conversation, and was impressed that Big G can translate our Vegas rule ("What goes on in Literal Mom household stays in Literal Mom household"), I was struck numb after it hit me.

 

This waterfall reminds me of how information travels on the internet.

photo credit

I can't talk about her anymore.  Because, like that waterfall, talking about her can end up places I didn't originally intend it to go.  

Her privacy, important enough to warrant an 8am Saturday morning conversation with her sister, is certainly important enough to be respected by me in this space.  

But.

I want to talk about her.  I want to emote about all of the things I'm helping her emote about.  

I fear I'll go crazy if I don't share the challenges of tweens with someone.  

I fear, so many days, that I'm not doing the right thing and I want to share my strategies in response to the issues she brings home with her.  

So I can find out if I'm on the right track.

Like so many mothers before me, and no doubt so many after me, I find myself in new, strange territory.  Letting her grow and spread her wings while trying to make sure her roots are deep enough and strong enough to withstand her attempts to learn to fly.

And I want to talk about it.  I want to hear what others have dealt with and how they handled it.  I want affirmation.

But I can't really preach to her the Vegas Rule of our house if I don't follow it here, can I?

"Girls, what goes on in our house stays in our house.  Unless of course I need to blog about it.  If that happens, it's ok.  Ok?"

I know I'm not the first person who's had this particular problem with social media and familial privacy.  I've even talked about the privacy issue before.

But I think I need to try harder.  To give my girls the privacy they need, but still share in a way that helps me work through issues.  And maybe help some of you along the way too.

This is a fine line to walk on.  One of several fine lines I feel like I'm walking on right now.  

Fall, at the moment, is aptly named.  It's something I don't want to do as I continue on this narrow path I've created for myself.

Fall.

School Year Behavior Contracts and Why to Use Them

I'm sharing two behavior contracts today to show you a way to simplify house rules, help ensure short term goal reaching and maintain a positive atmosphere at home.  

Do you ever feel like you're repeating yourself to your kids over and over and over and STILL they don't change their behavior?

Yeah, me too.

Sometimes conversations I have with my children LOOK like they're working, then a week or 5 later, everyone's back to the same patterns (or patt-rens as my 5 year old says) and I'm annoyed that no one LISTENS TO ME!  

Then we might have an ugly scene where, instead of addressing the behavior that's unacceptable, I'm addressing the fact that NO ONE LISTENS TO ME!  And I still don't resolve the problem.

Insert a behavior contract.  

Yes, I used to be an attorney.  Old habits die hard.

Even though I did fail Contracts I my first sememster, so really, if my professor knew I'd used behavior contracts with my kids he'd probably say, "Are you sure you included consideration?"  

Which sometimes I don't!  But shhhhhh, don't tell my kids that.  They think this thing's binding as Denture adhesive. 

I only reserve behavior contracts for really important things.  

Like the years when one of my children couldn't attend a birthday party EVER without crying during it.  I understood why, but we had to stop it.  

And this year?  We have two behavior hot spots in our house requiring a contract.  

Volleyball and technology.

Volleyball needs a contract because the child participating isn't a real ball-handling kind of girl.  She enters into this type of sport because she wants to be with her friends and/or she gets talked into it by her friends.  

Notice what I didn't say there?  Nothing about skill building, trying your hardest, being on a team or good sportsmanship.  

All things that are part of ball-handling sports team membership.  

Here is the contract for volleyball: 

 

Notice that the majority of this contract consists of emotional do's and don'ts

 

 What isn't showing on the volleyball contract is her incentive.  If she exceeds this contract, she can earn extra technology.  If she meets it, she will maintain her weekly technology allowances (see below).  If she falls below the contract requirements, she will lose technology.  If the coach calls me?  Katie bar the door - she's in deep do-do.

Technology Contract

I've gone years without having a technology contract.  But my 10 year old bought her own iPad and my 5 year old all of a sudden wants on the computer all the time.  And?  Our schedule this Fall, not including homework, is horrendous.  

Truthfully, there is no time for technology.  And there sure as heck is no time for technology battles.

So, Mom got mean this year:

 

Click to enlarge. The majority of this contract came from an article in Family Circle from Rosalind Wiseman. She said we could use hers and adapt from it, which is what I've done.

Do you see there where I'M giving up technology (mostly) too?  I almost didn't do that.  But then I thought "if they can do it, I can do it" and truthfully - the maddest I get at them is when they need my help and I've decided to check something "just for a minute" and feel "interrupted" by them.  

I figured it wouldn't be very fair to them to ban technology so we have more time and then have me sneaking on it all afternoon and evening.  

Also, notice how much time they get on weekends.  That's a lot, as far as I'm concerned.

Which raises the question, how much time do you let your kids use technology (defined here as any screen time)?

In my Fall newsletter, I'll update you on how we're doing.  In the meantime, in what areas do you think you'd need a behavior contract?

 

 

 

Another Goodbye

I wrote this post 2 years ago, the night before school started.  I can't say I feel much different today.  Some emotions are timeless.  I will admit I've cleaned the post up though. Sometimes when I read my old stuff I think, "Wordy much?"

Read on:

Both my kids are back in school now. 

I told Husband this morning about a friend who is a wreck over her 3 year old's first day of school.  Up popped Oldest from the backseat, "Why, Mommy, why would she be so upset?"  

I tried to explain to her that even though school is a wonderful place for children, it's a time of "letting go" for the parents and that's hard. 

Of course I started crying while telling her.  I could hardly even finish my thought because I was flashing back to HER first day of school and the pain I felt then of letting her go.

This is one of the hardest parts for me as a parent - the letting go. 

I grouse a lot about the other hard things, the day to day difficulties of sun-up to sunset, but that AIN'T NUTHIN' compared to letting my children go a little bit at a time, to become what God brought them into this world to become, which is sadly not to just be my little babies forever. 

And every year on this day, no matter how excited I am about school starting to have MY time back, it hits me:  the start of each school year begins the next step toward their independence, toward BECOMING someone who is not just my child. 

And that hurts so much - no matter how much I know it must happen.  

2009 (year this post was 1st written)

I know someday I'll look back at these years with so much yearning, wishing I could have the time back.  The empty nest years, I've heard, can be lonely. 

So for now, I will cherish them, love them, and maybe squeeze them a little too hard, knowing that today brings - another goodbye.

 
2011 - last year's day before school

 

Now - Summer 2012

 

Book Clubs With Kids

I've always wanted to be in a book club.  But sadly, the call's never come.  

And I've never taken the bull by the horns and created my own.

Until this summer, when I decided to have a Summer book club with each of my children.

Each child and I read two books together this summer:

 

Big G got to choose August and chose Muppets. Little Iggy got to choose July and chose a Magic Tree House

 

 

Little Iggy's June book - I chose this one.

 

And Where the Red Fern Grows with Big G, chosen by me for June.

I didn't know if they would love it.  I didn't know if they would embrace it.  I didn't know, with our busy schedule, if I'd be able to keep on them to finish all of the books.

So I gave them incentives.

In the form of a book chart where they earned a point for any book read, 2 points for any chapter read, and 10 points for participating fully in our book club meeting by the week it was scheduled.

Win.  Win.

The books I chose, Charlotte's Web and Where the Red Fern Grows, were, as you may know, utter and complete sobfests.  

As a matter of fact, I doubted my sanity when I couldn't stop crying while reading the last 3 chapters of Charlotte to Little Iggy.  Then she couldn't stop crying and then we just sat on the bed and cried into each other's arms.

And then when we did the book club meeting for that book, I asked her if she had any questions to add to our meeting.  

She thought for a minute.  "Why did Charlotte have to die?  Wouldn't the book have been so much better if she'd lived?"  And then we both started crying again.  

We were a pair.  

And Red Fern wasn't much better.    

So that's why we all enjoyed the levity in July and August's choices - Muppets and Magic Tree House.  

Including all of the other books they read this summer, the girls earned well into the 200 point range.  Each.

And what did the girls get to do with the points they earned, you ask?

A trip to the book store to get more books of course!

Reading.  Hands down, my favorite part of an old-fashioned summer.  It's why I saved it for last.  

I can't wait for next year's book clubs.  

Was Robert Frost Right? Do Good Fences Make Good Neighbors?

I read Robert Frost's poem, Mending Wall, when I was in the 8th grade.  Even then, when I didn't know what it would be like 30 years later to live within mere feet of my neighbors, I identified with the curmudgeonly neighbor who keeps insisting that "good fences make good neighbors."  

photo credit

Even then, I thought the speaker in the poem who didn't want the fence between he and his neighbor was being kind of an insensitive jerk.

And my view hasn't changed much since then.  If anything it's gotten stronger.  Much, much stronger.

One day this summer, I found out on Facebook that my need for good fences makes me seem like a curmudgeon, much like the neighbor in Frost's poem.  

I grew up on land.  Just an acre, which isn't much.  But it was enough to provide privacy. And boundaries.

The big man grew up on land too, with a huge yard he and his brothers had to rake and mow growing up, much like my brother.  

And for the past 15 years, I've lived on a lot that's 50 feet wide.  Our driveway is so close to our neighbor's house that we can literally see into their windows.  

If we wanted.  Which we don't.  

The proximity, for the most part, hasn't been a huge problem over the years. 

Sure, I don't want to say "howdy" to the neighbors if they're standing outside when we pull in.  And I usually don't.  They all probably think we're elitist.  But the reality is we just like privacy.  If my kids are having an "I'm too tired to function" meltdown in the car, I really don't want the neighbors to watch it because their house is so close.  

The "keeping up with the Joneses" scenario on the weekend is annoying.  Just because one person decides to do yardwork, why do 5 other neighbors have to do it?  Why can't we just do yardwork on our own time?  Which, in our case, might be never, as we hate it.  I'm sure our neighbors love that.

Maybe these expectations of mine make me an old-fashioned curmudgeon.

Maybe I'm the unreasonable one to want privacy in my own home and my own yard.

But I am who I am.

And that's a person who likes boundaries and tries to respect the boundaries of others.

Good fences, in all respects, really do make good neighbors in my world.

What's it like in your world?  

Addendum:  I am totally ok if you disagree with me.  As a matter of fact, I'd love to hear what you like about close neighbor relationships.  I haven't found that joy yet.

Addendum 2: I'm aware that I'm blogging on a public blog that my neighbors can find any time.  If so, I apologize now.  It's less you, and more me.  

What Do the Olympics, iPads and Parenting have in Common?

More than you might think!  An iPad, the Olympics, Gabby Douglas and parenting really do have a common thread.

iPads

 

On the eve of her iPad acquisition.

Big G got her iPad last Friday.  You might recall that we told her she could get one if she earned $400 toward it. And we would then pay the balance.  

 

I honestly thought it would 1) deter her or 2) take 8-10 months to accomplish.

She earned it in a little over 4 months.  $400.  And she's 10 years old.

She hoarded her allowance money, only spending it on her monthly subscription to Moshi Monsters.  

 

She didn't spend 1 dime of her birthday money.  

And when we projected how long it would take her to reach her goal just by doing those things, she decided that wasn't soon enough.  

So she asked me what she could do to earn more. 

I made a list of shit jobs around the house and attached a dollar value to them.  She earned about $5 extra a week doing those jobs and voila!  

iPad money earned.

So off we went on Friday, with her cash in an envelope marked, creatively, "iPad."

And this is how it shook out:  

She paid for the iPad and tax.  Mom and Dad bought the protective cover, protective case, and two year protective insurance for it.  

See a theme there?  

Read on. 

Olympics

I watch the Olympics nightly.  Often the kids watch too.  (Like Katie Hurley recently wrote - breaking technology rules is well worth it for something like the Olympics).  

And I watch these young kids who have sacrificed so much to achieve their dreams, sacrifices you certainly don't see as they're going for the glory of a medal.  

And I watch their parents in the stands, sometimes cheering, sometimes stoic, sometimes sobbing when they watch their kids from the sidelines.

And as much as I love the kids and  watching their success, I'm obssessed with the parents.

What have the parents sacrificed to help their kids reach these dreams?  

What are the parents doing quietly, behind the scenes, to make sure everything that's going on on the the floor, in the pool, on the field, or on the track happens seamlessly?

And if I look at our experience with the iPad, I'm guessing those parents are doing a helluva lot

Parenting

Because parenting?  It's not a front and center sport.  It's not a glory seeking job.  When done right, it's a job that's done almost entirely behind the scenes.

So with Big G's iPad, she did the work of earning the money, but we did the work of making sure her hard-earned purchase isn't ruined by still-clumsy 10 year old hands.  

We've ensured the behind the scenes protections, while she gets to enjoy the fruits of her labor.  

And we'll have to continue to do quiet, behind the scenes work to make sure she doesn't go too far with it or get hurt by things she doesn't understand yet.  (Like Facetime, for example).

And with the Olympics?  It's the same.  

These parents I watch sitting in the stands, getting little or no glory  - that's the way it's supposed to be.  

They made the behind the scenes sacrifices for their kids' dreams.  Sometimes monumental, unheard of sacrifices, really.  

But their kids get every bit of the glory down below.  Because they've put in the work to get there too.  And their work - that's the work that makes headlines.

And that's as it should be.  That's the nature of the parent child relationship.

And this iPad purchase in our house?  It might be my favorite thing from our Old-Fashioined summer.  

Because it represents hard work, sacrifice, delayed gratification and goal reaching.  

Lessons I hope I'm imparting as a parent.  

And maybe I am after all.

The Literal Mom Newsletter - Volume 1, Edition 1 - Summer 2012

I've been planning this newsletter all summer so I can share everything I can't fit into Old-Fashioned Summer or Clean up your Act.  

I've even been taking notes about the "moments" that really capture summer.  

But now, as I sit down to write it, I find myself throwing out the things I took notes about and going in a whole different direction.

And, yes, I'm aware that by doing a newsletter format, I'm modeling after many who have gone before me.  Instead of listing every single blog I've read a newsletter post on, can we just agree that I know I'm not re-inventing the wheel here?  Thanks.

Angry news

Top 40 stations.  When you've been traveling around the same city all summer long and the only stations your kids want is the local top 40, you learn something pretty quickly.

THEY ONLY PLAY TOP 40 SONGS!  And by top 40, I don't mean the whole top 40.  I mean the top 5 or 10 of the Top 40.  And they rotate said same songs, like seriously, every 45 minutes to an hour.  

It will slowly drive a woman to drink, let me assure you of that.

Another thing about driving around?  It makes you tired.  And when you have a chattering soon-to-be 5 year old in the back seat talking non-stop, you sometimes tune her out in your attempt to keep your eyes pried open with toothpicks just to get your oldest child picked up on time from her 5th activity of the day.  And that will make her angry.  

But, being 4, she doesn't tell you, "Mom I don't like it when you ignore me in favor of staying awake to get us safely to our location."  No.  She decides to go bat shit crazy when you pick up her sister.  Like *hilarious* sound effects and what we call the "Doofenshmirtz" voice, for those of you who watch Phineas and Ferb.  

And that, after a day of shuttling kids around and living by blackberry because you haven't opened your computer since the previous Tuesday, can piss a Mommy off.  Or "MOM," as they both now insist on calling me.  What's up with that?  That's what I call MY Mom.  They're not old enough to insist on calling me MOM.  

The Garden.  I imagine the garden could be in happy and angry news.  To date, I have harvested 5 zucchini, soon-to-be 5 tomatoes and 12 jalapenos.  Holla!  

 

It's kinda like a jalapeno jack o'lantern!

 

But pests invaded my zucchini right around the time of the power outage and I fear I'm going to lose the whole plant because of their onslaught and my inability to combat it until we got our power and our shit acts back together.  

Life metaphor:  Protect the things you work hard for.  Pests and nasty creatures are always hiding nearby to unfairly and unjustly take the fruits of your labor.

 Strange but true news

I smell.  Like, smell bad.  For some reason, the deodorant I've been using for more than 20 years is no longer keeping me fresh and clean.  I'd like to say I don't know why, but I'm afraid it could be (shhhhhh, please don't tell anyone) peri-menopause.  

OMG!  I know!  It can't be possible, right?  

I'm only 41 and if 40's the new 20, then obviously 41's the new 21, which means I should be spending my summer in tank tops with a drink in my hand, dancing on tables and being admired by everyone at the bar.  

No?  

Another culprit, according to a friend, may be that my pH is out of balance.  How does one get pH back into balance?  Litmus test?  If YOU know what's going on with my stinky self, please let me know.  

Boogers.  Maybe it's because I'm outdoors more than half my day this summer and it's my schnoz's way of protecting herself, but I have boogers!  Like, dry stick to your nostril ones.  Like they don't blow out ones, because they're sticking to your nostrils.  Like, the only way to get them out is to stick the kleenex, wrapped around your finger, into your nose and really work them out.  I know.  Delicious.  

Aren't I a vision of sexy this summer?

Happy news

 Technology Rule.  The one hour of technology a day rule is one of the best summer rules I've ever made.  Seriously.  They don't even miss it.  And many days we don't get to technology at all!  But going from 1 hour a day to no technology?  Not gonna happen.  Mama still needs a break by the time 5 o'clock rolls around and them on TV or computer provides it. 

iPad.  Speaking of technology, Big G has earned enough to buy her iPad.  I am both amazed and proud of her ability to do it in such a short amount of time.  I'm also terrified that she'll never want to get off the thing.  But iPad is technology, so the 1 hour a day rule applies to that too, of course.  Phew.  And truth?  I can't wait to get on that sucker when she's in bed for her to learn how to use it.

Running.  In my couch to 5k training, I've now run 20.5 miles and am approximately 2/3 of the way through it.  I dread, dread, dread it every almost every time it's time to run, but I'm so happy I've done it once I do.  When will that dreading part end, I wonder?

In Conclusion

Our days are filled, almost from sunup to sundown, and often I collapse into bed at night.  

But it's the tired of a summer well-lived, possibly one of the best we've ever had.  They are growing up before my eyes.  In the calm and relative still of summer, I can actually see their growth, which doesn't happen during the school year.  

The first half of the summer is now gone, and the second half can get muchly much much muchy much harder because thoughts of back-to-school start creeping into all of our minds, making us more tense.   I want to keep that at bay this year, though, for all of us.

If I can.  Why?

Because each year the return to school brings a mini-version of that day they're ultimately going to leave me for good.  And while that's the way life should be, I think it's ok to want to hang onto them and this idyllic time we're having for as long as I can.  Right?

So how's your summer?  Tell me the goods.  

Old-Fashioned Summer - Family Reunions by Jessie Powell

 

Jessie Powell blogs at Jester Queen.  One of my favorite things about her is her candid and colorful comments.  She never shies away from the truth and is a great fiction writer too.  Someday I'm going to be buying her books at Barnes and Noble.  I can't wait.  Thanks, Jessie, for guest posting here today.

 

Good Old-Fashioned Family Reunion

 

When I think ‘family reunion’, I imagine a daylong orgy of people in bright identical t-shirts overtaking a public park. I envision copious quantities of fried chicken and small children stoned on un-spiked kool-aid. There’s a tent somewhere, and all the people are crowded under it to escape the ungodly sun.

 

My husband’s family doesn’t do family reunions like most people. Of course, they’ve only had one so far, so maybe that just means the norms haven’t quite been settled upon.

 

This year, my husband’s grandmother died at age 97. She was ready, and it was time. Still, her children and grandchildren mourned her. So we gathered in the shadow of Vermont’s Green Mountains to bid her farewell this June.

Every single cloud is authentic.

One of Scott’s sisters actually makes this trip pretty much every year. There’s a cabin on Lake Champlain owned by an uncle’s family that they can rent for a reasonable rate. In the past, we have gathered there, so it seemed the appropriate place to convene after the brief service.

 

But, and here is where the brilliant divergence comes in, we didn’t just gather there. We didn’t all descend on Judy and her family while they tried to host us. Nor did we all cascade en masse into the houses of Scott’s aunts or cousins, who live in the region. Instead, we established meeting points. Our family, travelling up from Alabama actually did camp out with a cousin, but that was perfect, because we got to meet his youngest daughter, a child we’d never even seen in her two and a half years of life.

 

Instead of that single overcrowded day, there were two days of festivities. Scott’s oldest sister’s oldest daughter graduated high school this year. And family stayed at a lakeside hotel, where they hosted a graduation party on the lawn. We all congregated there on Saturday. We had the use of the hotel’s kayaks, we didn’t all have to hover in clumps, and the cousins could stretch out and enjoy themselves.

 

Two boys, both named Sam, discuss life as they walk the beach.

 

Then, the next day at the church, we had a light meal and met some of the people who knew Scott’s grandmother in her regular life.  Then, we all attacked on Judy and Will at the lake.

How cool is an Ohio shaped rock in Vermont? SO cool.

Everything was so perfect. Because we weren’t restricted to a single afternoon, we weren’t pressured to hurriedly connect with everyone in a few short hours. And because the karma was so ideal, all of the children clicked. There were no fights. (And with my two alone, that’s nothing short of a miracle.) Nobody felt left out, and even the littlest kids were made to feel big for at least a few minutes.

With a little help from Uncle Will, Caroline caught her first fish.

The weather cooperated, so we didn’t overheat or freeze. And when rain drove us inside the tiny cabin, there was somehow space for us to all spread out. It was anything but the typical family reunion, but it was absolutely good old fashioned fun.

 

So now, we’re planning to do it all again next year, somewhere in the Midwest. A few years back, we rented some cabins in Hocking Hills to celebrate my mother-in-law’s birthday. I’m wondering if those are available again. Because then, we could not only see each other, we could jump in hot tubs.

 

Jessie Powell
[email protected]

 

Old Fashioned Summer - Get Bakin'!

 One of the best ways to bond with your kids, teach them lessons about life, and do something fun is to bake together.  

We all know this, right?  

I tried to bake with my oldest when she was a bit too young.  It was *kind of* fun for me.  

And a blast for her.

 

Hey Mommy - I tried the cake while you were on the phone!

 

That cake didn't get shared with anyone else.  

As kids get older, they can help bake things for people other than immediate family who won't care if kid slobber is part of the recipe.  

Such was the case last week when we made the Big Man's birthday cake.  

They came up with the brilliant idea to make him a guitar cake.  

And by brilliant, I mean "how exciting that Mom got to research how the hell to do a guitar cake, figure out where to find the supplies and then manage the process like a drill sergeant."

But really.  It was a blast.  

 

the mold for the cake, not to be confused with moldy cake

 

 

What's better than raw cake batter? (Raw brownie mix, of course!)

 

 

Adult hands required for the cake pour

 

 

Hot from the oven and smelling awesome

 

 

Grossest part of the cake - dying the icing black and brown - but it's all for the greater good, right? Who cares what it does to our bodies . . .

 

 

Concentration required to stay between the lines

 

 

 

Is it obvious from her eyes it was 10pm? Took a little longer than we thought . . .

 

 

 

Voila! Looks good enough to play, doesn't it?

 

 The guests totally thought it was store bought.  How cool is that?  Either that, or they were being nice and pretending not to notice the wiggles on the strings from my inability to draw a straight line.  

And even better?  The kids were proud as punch of their creation.  

Summer time big win!  

Do you bake with the kids?  Do you make it elaborate?  Or stick with the basics, like brownies? (which I am all for - sometimes easy is more fun for Mom)

I'd love for you to share your baking success stories (or failures - those make for the best memories too)!

June Memories - Summer Kick Off Fun

Remember when I talked last week about how sometimes the end of the year celebrations get to be too much?

Our summer kick-off church festival is not one of those.  Don't get me wrong - it's too much in that it's 3 days of total stimulation.  But it's not one of the things that puts my kids over the edge.  

They love it.  

 

They need a new marketing consultant

 

Nothing says summer like late night festivals, face painting and temporary tattoo prizes with soft core porn on the package.  

Am I right?

Linking up with Alison and Galit for Memories Captured this month.