The Law of the Pack

My boys and their Dad have their first foray into the world of Scouting tonight. My first-grader, especially, is stoked.

What is he most excited about, you ask? Is it learning to camp or canoe or tie knots? Is it making new friends?

Nope.

He feels the irresistible pull of this...



"Ooh, Mom... it looks like a police shirt!" he told me last night when I showed him this photo of the Cub Scout Uniform.

Um... I thought, Police shirt?? Seriously?!??

Then I showed my son the Cub Scout promise. He recited faithfully:

I, (say your name), promise
to DO MY BEST
To do my DUTY to GOD
And my Country
To HELP other people, and
To OBEY the LAW of the Pack

Oh, how he relished those last words... You know, the part about THE PACK.

It makes me think he's going to come home howling tonight.

[This is the part of the post wherein Julia pauses to thank the Lord in heaven that the boys' DAD is doing scouts with them, not her... Because -- well -- giggling during pack meetings would be frowned upon, I'm sure. ]

I showed him the Cub Scout Motto immediately after the promise. With the same irrepressible joy, he practically shouted Do Your Best!

I thought, well... that doesn't sound so bad.

(I'm still 50-50 on it... so we'll see how it goes. At the very least, a photo of him in that uniform will be SO worth it.)


- Midwest Mom

Girl Power

My 4-year-old daughter is starting to discover her -- er -- feminine powers.

The other day, as my husband and I got breakfast ready for the family, she strolled into the kitchen in her new 'rock star' pajamas.

"Mom, Wonder Woman has super-panties," she declared. "I like them."

Her dad had his back to us. I heard a snort and saw his shoulders start to shake as he fought to compose himself.

Playing along, I replied, "Well, honey, she walks around in her super-panties because she wants to embarrass the bad guys. As soon as they see her, they drop the loot to cover their eyes."

At that point, Dad regained control -- at least long enough to give us both a lesson in superhero powers. "Actually," directing a pointed look at me, "Wonder Woman has a magic lasso and bracelets that make bullets bounce off and an invisible plane." Then, with a smirk, "maybe her super-panties are powerful enough to make her plane disappear."

My daughter's look was deadpan.

"No, Dad."

There was a meaningful pause.

"She does that with her super-breasts."

- Midwest Mom

Talent Search: Developing your Child's Gifts

My five-year-old son is an artist -- an avid artist. He spends part of each day transferring the pictures in his mind onto paper. When I talk to him about his work, he is clear about what he wants to create and how; he has a remarkable ability to know exactly how to create the finished product he wants.

My seven-year-old is a writer. His stories have remarkable action and a clear voice. He often complains when writing for school that he can't possibly just fill one sheet of paper. Couldn't he write chapters instead of just a paragraph?

I do my best to encourage them both, even if they don't do the best job at encouraging each other. Earlier this week, my oldest forbade his brother from drawing because he wanted to play outside with him instead. "Can he do that?" my younger son protested. I assured him that his brother was not in charge. He relaxed, "Good, because I really love art. I am thinking that it is my special talent."

Brotherly conflict aside, I think it is important to help children develop their interests. It can be a great way to develop the bond of parent-friendship with your child. Here are a few ways to go about it:

1. Keep it Fun - Often, young children learn best when they are in charge. Don't be in a rush to bill your child as the next Mozart or Monet. Enjoy the fact that they are enjoying what they do. That enthusiasm is its own reward.
2. Make Space - If you can, devote some space in your home to your child's passion. An art table stocked with supplies, a music corner or reading chair can be comfortable places for your child to pursue what they like when they choose. Outdoors a soccer goal or basketball hoop invites your child to develop his or her skills on his own. I have seen my sons outdoors inventing their own football plays or winning the imaginary World Series. All they require is a little equipment and the space to pursue what they love.
3. Learn Together - As my children have developed independent interests, it has been so fun to learn together with them. We visit the library for books on art technique or to search for exciting, inspiring writing. We attend sports practices and games as a family, learning along the way. My husband, especially, makes the effort to learn enough about our children's' interests to teach them, but he also listens as they explain new things they've learned. The exchange is exciting to watch, and it helps us build our family friendship on shared experiences.
4. Give Appropriate Praise - Without going overboard (no sky-writing, please), praise can be an excellent motivator. When my children are frustrated with a new skill, a little praise can go a long way. I never push them, and I try not to turn their successes into my own. But I do give them a quiet look of encouragement, a hand on the shoulder, a word when they need it. At home, we have a kitchen art gallery filled with drawings from all the children. We have video of them and photo collages from their sports teams. These small things say, "I am proud of you."
5. Find Opportunities for Growth - When a child has an inner drive to pursue a gift, parents should find ways to help them develop. My artist loves trips to the museum. My soccer player loves going to college soccer games. My ballerina loves seeing a real performance with grown-up dancers. Camps, magazine subscriptions, clubs, and school organizations can help your talented kids grow. Exposing your children to new and varied experiences can also be a great way to help them develop new interests.

As always, parents should try to be tuned-in and show good judgment when thinking about their children's' gifts. Not every youth basketball player is going to make it to the NBA. Not every young ballet student will dance professionally. But each experience we give our kids, every opportunity we give them to pursue what they love, will help them grow as strong, gifted individuals.

Besides, I am still waiting to find out my 'special talent'. Maybe one of these days, one of my children will help me to discover it.

- Midwest Mom

Kids Sports: Stop the Insanity!

Let's face it, any parent who has an athletic child has been witness to some of the most lunatic parenting on the face of the planet. We've all seen it . Sometimes it's the librarian who becomes more argumentative than a crack addict on steroids. It could be the lawyer who paces the sidelines barking orders at their child (or, God forbid, other children). Or, yes, even a full-time mom can find herself suddenly incapable of recognizing her child's strengths or accepting a compliment on their child's behalf, answering with a list of shortcomings instead of a smile and a thank-you. Sports can make grown-ups into crazy people.

I have to admit, I teeter on the edge of lunacy myself. One thing is for sure, I am one of the loudest parents on the sideline. I just can't help myself -- I love watching my kids play. But I sometimes wonder whether other parents are looking at me sideways, wondering, "Who is that lady?!?" I convince myself that volume alone doesn't make me an obnoxious sports parent (does it?)

Just to be sure, I try to follow a few guidelines to stave off a case of the crazies:

Keep It Positive -- If you are an involuntary yeller (like I am), make sure you're yelling out something you can be proud of later. Saying "good job" or "nice try" or "you can do it" is always better than saying something insulting or letting out a groan if things don't go your way. You are your children's best source of encouragement. You are also their best example of good sportsmanship.

Practices are for Coaching and Games are for Fans -- Your first job on the sideline of your child's game is to be their fan. I always send my sons onto the field with a smile and a twinkling eye. "Have fun! I can't wait to watch you play!" I say as they run to meet their team. Giving your child the gift of unqualified support can make a tremendous difference for them. (I'll admit there was a learning curve for me on this one. I used to use the last 5 minutes before a game to review "teaching points" from practice, but I have truly found that only made my child more self-conscious about his play. But when I assure him that he's my favorite player on the team, he glows. As a result, his head and heart are in the game, from start to finish.)

Keep your Expectations in Line -- I remember when my son started soccer at age 4. It was all we could do to get the team kicking the ball in the right direction. Still, there were parents who questioned the coach or worried excessively about whether the team was winning enough. I felt like explaining that this wasn't the World Cup, it was pee-wee soccer! In retrospect, I doubt that would have made much difference. Still, a dose of perspective is never unwarranted. Focus on your child's own skills. They don't have to be Ronaldhino or A-Rod or Kevin Garnett to be your favorite player. Let them be who they are and love them for that.

Be Even-handed with Praise -- We all know that as a parent, our first concern is our own child. But getting to know your child's team-mates and giving them a cheer when they make a great play reinforces to your child what it means to be a team. Athletics is about making friends as much as it is about individual accomplishment. So, get to know the other parents on the sidelines and spread your positive comments around.

Because I am such a loud fan, I usually try to look over my shoulder and make sure I'm not bothering anyone. I also cheer when the opposing team makes a great play. There is nothing wrong with recognizing excellence, regardless of which team shows it. And I find that positivity can be contagious... even among die-hard athletic parents.

So, remember, sports are meant to be an opportunity to learn and have fun! If you focus on the really enjoying the game, your child will too.

That's always a good thing.

- Midwest Mom

We all have Clingons from Time to Time

Recently, a friend of mine asked a question about her 18 month-old and the issue of "clinging". You know what I mean -- when you bring your brood to that family gathering and there is one child who must be surgically detached from your leg. Or when your name is called desperately throughout the house because you dared to go down to the laundry room and switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer.

"Whew! Mom! I didn't know where you WERE!"

Yes. It happens to all of us.

While I can't claim to have an instant solution to a case of the Clingons, I can make a few suggestions:

1) Play games about absence. Believe it or not, games like Peek-a-Boo and indoor Hide-And-Seek really do teach young children to cope with being alone, even for short periods of time. The more your child can "play" with the issue of their independence, the easier it will be for them to handle your everyday need for space.

2) Start with short absences. By telling your child where you are going -- even in the house -- and when you will be back, you are teaching them to trust that you mean what you say and that you will, in fact, come back. A very young child does need to know that your disappearance into the kitchen to make dinner will not be permanent abandonment. At the same time, parents should understand that children may not like it when you are not there. (That comes much later, believe me!) If you are gentle, reassuring, and consistent in informing them about what to expect, you will help them prepare for longer absences like doctor's appointments, lunch with a friend, or (dare-I-say-it) a date with Daddy.

3) Build trust in other people. Sometimes, there can be an enormous emotional payoff in being your child's "one-and-only". Comforting a crying child by taking him or her from Daddy or Auntie or Grandma is not always the best option. This is especially true when a young child shows a preference for one parent over the other. It can be very easy for "the favorite" to play the role of comforter. But it may be better to stand aside and let your child build a stronger bond with others. Saying, "You're fine. Daddy's going to give you your bath today." or "I'm right here, but Grandma's going to read a story. Let's listen together," is a great way to reassure your child.

When you show your trust in others' ability to care for your child, you set a powerful example for your baby about trust itself. When you practice "sharing" your child with other caring adults, you give him or her a zone of comfort and let them know they have more than one person to rely on. That lesson will stay with them as they grow older and enter a day care or school situation.

4.) Approach big occasions with sensitivity. Of course, meeting 50 people at a family reunion is intimidating. That's why even some adults shy away from those gatherings! We have made a practice of going to big events with friends or cousins that our children really know. Approaching a crowd with friends alongside helps to make meetings easier. We also plan to arrive early, so that new people are introduced one at a time. And we stay only as long as our schedule allows -- not until our children are out of their minds with tiredness.

The more practice your child gets at handling your absence or meeting new people, the more confident he or she can become at her own independence. I have one child, in particular, who went through a prolonged shy phase, right when entering preschool. It helped to introduce one friend at a time each day we were at school. When my child focused on only one new friend every day or two, we soon found that there was a whole class full of friends to enjoy.

- Midwest Mom

Thank Heaven for Little Girls

We are two weeks into school, and while I am missing the fun of having my boys at home, I am loving the flood of "girl-time" I am enjoying with my daughter.

What is it about having a girl that is so different? We communicate differently, we play differently, she (obviously) dresses differently. I relate to her in an entirely different way than I do with my boys. Maybe the difference is me.

I remember feeling like I was having a girl when my daughter was not yet born. My husband and I had made the conscious decision not to find out the baby's gender. We hadn't with any of our children. And with the earlier two, I never had a clear feeling of what the child was. This time was different. Although I didn't share it, when I thought about the baby or talked to the baby, it was always a "she".

On the day we went to the hospital, even our doula said, "You know, I have a feeling this one will be a girl." Nancy, our delivery nurse said the same thing. I just smiled, telling them we would soon find out, wouldn't we?

Sure enough, it was my beautiful daughter, and I cried. I was completely unprepared for the flood of feelings I would have about this new little life, this girl.

I had always been a little afraid of raising a girl. Boys, I told everyone, are so easy. They are straightforward. They are fun. I had the impression that girls were temperamental, over-emotional, and tough to raise. After all, I was one. (And from what my mother has told me, I wasn't exactly pleasant to raise. Yes, the truth hurts -- especially from your own mother.)

But once I had my own delicate, tiny daughter in my arms, I didn't care about tantrums and stubbornness and drama. She just was so overpoweringly beautiful.

I still gaze at her in wonder when she's not paying attention and ponder the unfathomable gift of her. I say my silent thank-yous and try to hold that image of her in my mind to recall at those times when she's being impossible.

So, now that "our boys" are in school, I have all morning to put her, my youngest, in the driver's seat. She can pick out beautiful clothes. I can paint her toenails. We can pick flowers in the garden or water with her plastic watering can. We play dolls. (Don't tell her brothers, but Batman likes to ride around in the Barbie convertible with Polly Pockets... And Polly always drives.) We shop together and go to the playground together. We play soccer with the surprisingly girly Dora soccer ball.

But aside from the games we play and the feminine things like painting nails, I can't think of anything I'm doing differently with her. All the same, everything we do feels new. She is just such a blessing.

I jokingly call her "mini-Me" from time to time. My husband laughs and hugs us both. And I can feel our bond growing stronger. The other day, she put on her feathery pink princess cape, looked at me, and said, "Okay. All set!" She marched into our room and said, "Daddy, will you marry me?"

I thought my husband was going to cry. He said, "Of course, I will, princess!" And he picked her up and danced around the room with her, just like Prince Charming. Afterward, I think his smile lasted all day long.

I think I know just how he feels.

Midwest Mom

On the Road to Raising Resilient Children

Isn't it funny the way toddlers sometimes insist on doing things themselves. My daughter is two now, but from the first moment she could speak, it seemed like "I do it MYSELF!" was a staple of her vocabulary.

I try to view her independence as a good thing. Since I'm parenting three children, it is wonderful that she wants to put on her own shoes, feed herself, or dress herself. I think it is an important part of raising a child to give them the room to try things themselves -- even if it seems like they've chosen a task far beyond their abilities. Quite often, like this morning when my daughter buckled her own sandals, I've been surprised at the results!

But in the process of trying a new task herself, my daughter will sometimes get really frustrated. She will drive at a solution that eludes her. Finally, she will let out a gutteral scream I know comes from the pit of her soul.

When she's at the end of her rope, though, I give her time to feel her own frustration. I like to watch what comes after that point, because it is almost always a leap in development for her. Either she will regroup and try a new method or she will power through her frustration and get the thing right -- like when she finally learned how to ride her tricycle and hollered until she got the rhythm of one pedal then the other.

We have photos of my oldest son trying like crazy to crawl forward. All he could manage was to scoot himself backward. In the photos, his face got redder and redder until finally, he reached for the toy in front of him that was just out of reach -- and got it! What a smile of victory he had on his face! That smile would not have been possible if we had not been willing to step back and let him find his own way.

There are many times when my children are frustrated and they will stop in a quiet moment, look over and ask for help. I try to be present and accessible when they are trying to figure out something new. Sometimes, I will get them started or give them a hint or remind them of the steps they will need to take to accomplish their goal. My middle son needs encouragement if he can't get his seatbelt on right away. "I can't do it!" he will cry in despair. "You can do it. And we will wait as long as it takes for you to do it," I reply. Removing the time pressure usually does the trick for him. He gets it buckled. At the point that my children reach out for help, I think it is important to be there -- not to swoop in and do it for them, but to teach them to solve the problem themselves.

I know many parents never think NOT to help their child. Moms are compulsive, professional helpers, aren't we? But I have made the decision to start early, encouraging my children to make their own choices and to feel the consequences of those choices. I have started with the little tasks my children ask to do on their own.

Why?

When mothers do everything for their children, they are silently saying "I think you are helpless. You cannot do this for yourself." Even if they never say the words, parents who do every little thing for their child are creating a child who will be dependent on them. It can be terribly comforting for a parent to be needed so much. But, isn't the goal of parenting to lovingly raise children who can think and do and decide what is best for themselves?

If a parent never gives their child the chance to be frustrated and possibly fail, they are depriving that child of valuable experience in problem-solving and decision-making. I remember having to make the first hard decisions of my adulthood and feeling paralyzed. I talked to my father about it. "Well, princess," he said supportively, "you need to sit down and figure things out for yourself. I will help you if you need me, but these are your decisions to make."

I know now that those are the best words he could have said to me. Did I have to flounder? Yes. Did I have to wonder if I was making the right choices? Yes. Was there a chance I could fail at what I tried? Absolutely. But when I reached out for help, my Dad treated me like an adult. I was 16 years old at the time. His confidence in me helped me to have confidence in myself.

When it comes time for my own children to be making their way in the world, I want them to have confidence in their own choices. I want for them to have the courage to try new things, even if they might fail. And if and when they do fail or make the wrong choice, I want them to be able to regroup, learn, and change direction.

Does that start with shoe-tying or the tricycle? Maybe it does. Only time will tell.


Midwest Mom

The Fine Art of Letting Go

This post appears as promised -- although much delayed. It is difficult for me to write, but I will do my best.
* * * * *

This morning was Big D's first real day of kindergarten. By "real" I mean that I actually had to leave the room. Yesterday was the pictures and paperwork and the excitement of the new school clothes -- all for a two-hour session where there were as many parents as students.

But today... today was different.

Today I had to bring my beautiful boy to school and turn around and leave. It was clearly much more difficult for me than for him. He marched in with a hundred and fifty-three other kids armed with a smile and a Batman backpack. As I went to kiss his cheek at the kindergarten door, he squiggled away. "Not so fast!" I said, and I hugged him close. In he went and got to work without batting an eyelash. He strode up to the teacher right away to ask a question. His voice was strong. My right brain relaxed, assuring me He Will Be Okay.

I finished saying goodbye to the other parents I'd seen and made my way to the door. I was accompanied by my delighted two-year-old, whose secret dream of becoming an only child was seemingly coming true. She beamed and giggled at the thought that she didn't have to wait to get into the car or take a turn or share -- at least until 2 o'clock.

I buckled her in and started the car. As I was backing out of the parking lot, the feelings struck -- and the tears. There is nothing that feels so completely and utterly wrong as driving away from your child.

My memory of the drive home is a little hazy. I know I 'took the long way'. How long? Long enough for my youngest to ask where we were going. I was focused more on the cornflowers blooming on the side of the road and the corn tassels that particular shade of gold only they have. I sniffed and blinked and finally succumbed at a STOP sign.

I had worked so hard to prepare my boy -- I hadn't really prepared myself.

I wonder, sometimes, why I feel the way I do when my children pass a milestone. They are such a gift to me, and as full as our life is of joy at their growth, I know that every step will take them further from my protection. As proud as I am of him and his excitement at this first big step, as much as I count his teacher as a dear and trusted friend, and as long as I knew this day was coming, I was not prepared for the desolate emptiness of my heart at leaving him.

In his wisdom, my husband had decided to be home when I got there. The one person who would understand was the one person there to hug me until I had returned to myself. Always self-critical, I told him I didn't understand why I was being so emotional.

"It's natural," he told me, "you'll miss him." -- A simple explanation for a very complex feeling.

I will miss my baby.


When I picked him up this afternoon, and he regaled me with tales of songs and stories and the children in his new class, I had a faint glimmer of peace. His babyhood may be gone, but it will be fun to get to know the boy he is becoming.

Midwest Mom

Adventures in Potty Training

Potty training is one of the most frustrating tasks of raising a young child. I am currently training my youngest -- my little girl -- and am having a very frustrating time! And I know there are other parents that have the same experience. Why is it so difficult to get her to understand what she needs to do? And once she understands, when will she finally have the will to go the right way consistently? And why am I so wrapped up in this?

Maybe that's the toughest part of potty training for me. Sad to say, but I get really invested in whether they are doing everything right. I just want it to be taught, done and over with. (Maybe now that I can sense there might be a day when I actually don't have to change a diaper, I just want that day to be here NOW!)

I remember training my first son. I had infinite patience, compared to the way I feel now. I would read him a book while he was on the potty, he would sit down several times a day. Sure, he had setbacks like any child, and I distinctly remember saying to him, "Okay. You're not ready for this, so I'm going to stop pushing. You let me know when you're big enough to do this." I had the sense to lay off when he needed it. And he trained while we were taking a long vacation weekend. My husband and I looked at each other at the end of the first day and said, "Have you changed dirty pants? No? My goodness, he went on the potty every single time today!" It was a complete surprise.

My second boy was a lot more work. There was no miraculous training day for him. He had always had trouble staying dry overnight, so we knew that he just might have a smaller, well, capacity. We still wake him up during the night from time to time, just to make sure he doesn't have to go. But he had technical issues my oldest never had. He would clog the toilet from using too much paper. Or I would catch him trying to get clean with only one square. It makes me laugh now, but he truly had a process problem. We've worked through it -- he's 5 now -- but it sure took longer and we still have to be watchful.

I remember one thing that really helped both of them was for my husband to "get involved." With our first, he was completely hands off. Potty training was Mommy's work, apparently. It wasn't until my father visited and had a talk with him that he realized only someone with external plumbing can really explain how the pipes work. (My son wouldn't stand up to go. He didn't believe me when I said that's how men do it.) The power of setting a personal example was shown right there on that day. I remember chuckling to myself and thinking, "Well, it won't be the first discussion they'll have about how that thing's supposed to work."

And now I have a little girl. So, there's no husband to step in and bail me out. And, man! Am I having a frustrating time. ... It's not that she doesn't understand how to go. She's got that down pat. And she does have days when she will wear cloth underwear with no accidents. (We still have her in something absorbent at night time, just in case.) But she hasn't fully decided to be trained full-time yet. Yesterday she told me she just wanted to be a baby and wear diapers that day, and she fought me anytime I said it was time to try going to the bathroom.

I don't want to be the one pushing her; I want her to make the choice. And I'm not one to put the diapers or pull-ups away and force her to have accidents. (Because guess who has to clean that up!) But I don't have infinite patience anymore...

Yes, in my mind I'm saying, "please, oh please, let me be done changing diapers!" And why on Earth is my sense of well-being so caught up in this? It's not like she's going to be 20 and in pull-ups, right? (She's not, is she?)

I guess my point is this: If you are the mom of a girl and want to share some tips with me, I sure could use the help! Click on the "comments" link at the bottom of this post or check my profile and email me.

At least reading your hints will keep me distracted until she chooses to train.

Midwest Mom
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What a Country!

You cannot beat Fourth of July in the Midwest. We had the best time celebrating. There was beautiful weather, fireworks galore, and family fun around every corner.

On Friday, our family participated in the neighborhood bike parade. It is a homegrown institution, started a few years ago by two schoolteachers in the neighborhood. We decorate all the children's bikes in the morning, and by ten o'clock 150-200 kids are lined up on a neighboring street to start the parade. This year, there was a fire engine at the front of the line and a cowboy on horseback carrying an American flag at the end of the parade. In between, there were decorated four-wheelers, golf carts, tricycles, bikes, wagons, even strollers. As the whole group processes through the neighborhood, we wave and wish people "Happy 4th". It is fun to see how many people bring out their lawn chairs to wave to all the children along the way.

The parade always ends at the same house, with an open garage door and a freezer full of popsicles for the parents and children. It is run entirely by families who have volunteered to make it happen, and it could not be more appreciated by the community. There is no profit, no angle, no politicians involved -- just a community of volunteers and families having fun and celebrating Independence day.

That was typical of the weekend, though. We went to fireworks and the children shared 'glow-sticks' with a little girl who had none, making a new friend in the process. We had a family barbecue on Sunday where everybody contributed to the feast. It was held in a park where almost every alcove was full of extended families doing just the same thing.

For me, the times we enjoyed this weekend confirm that we live in a truly great country filled with generous people. This weekend, it did not matter what Monday's headlines will say or how the stock market will go up or down. We were all members of a loving family, good neighbors in a healthy community, and friends having fun together.

Fourth of July in the Midwest shows the best of what America is. We are giving of our time and our talents. We are people who help one another and set aside our worries to celebrate together. It is an amazing blessing to live in such a rare and wonderful country.

Midwest Mom

The Best Laid Plans of Elastigirl

I remember the first time I watched the movie The Incredibles. I remember thinking how ironic it was that the mother's superpower was extreme flexibility and super stretchiness. It's not a very glamorous super-power. But then again, how else can a Mom manage all the different directions Life will take the family?

We had one of those weekends that had 8 million diversions from the path we set out to take. We rushed out the door to a baseball game -- five minutes later, lightning flashed and the game was cancelled. We had friends from out of town scheduled to come over for the afternoon and stay for dinner -- we had to cancel when my daughter woke up miserable with a high fever. ... It was one of those weekends.

Fortunately, the thing that usually stretches me to the breaking point wasn't a problem. My husband's ringing work phone only rang once this weekend. And he was able to solve the caller's problem without heading in to work. Hallelujah! Lately, that cell phone has been the enemy of our weekends, dragging him away in the morning, evening, and the middle of the night.

This weekend, thankfully, was different.

It was such a relief, even in the face of constantly changing plans and expectations, to have a husband and a Dad right here with us. He went out on Saturday morning to buy donuts for breakfast, and when he came back, my oldest son was so relieved. "I thought you had to work on a Saturday again," he said. The donuts were a secondary bonus -- what he wanted was his Dad.

Having another parent here to share the load -- even the load of 3 kids inside during a rainstorm and the load of caring for a sick toddler, on top of the normal cooking, cleaning, laundry, you-name-it that I do all the time -- helps me feel like it's actually the weekend. When my husband is on call or traveling, and I am the 'go to girl' for all my children's needs for weeks at a time, I don't get a weekend. I don't get time off at all. And as a result, I find I rely more on routine and rules and you-WILL-do-it-my-way than I ever do normally. I am less tolerant of messes and rude humor. Bedtimes are strictly enforced. We laugh less. Our lives become, in general, a lot less fun.

When I have to parent alone, I am less silly-putty and more like a sun-bleached rubber band that still has a little stretch, but could break any minute. It makes me wonder how single parents can do this at all. I couldn't parent full-time by myself, much less parent well. And single parents have to worry about work and child-care and keep up with what's going on with school and their kids friends... It would be too much for me, I am sure of it. I couldn't do this alone. I'm not SuperWoman.

I guess that's why I identify with Elastigirl. She has superpowers, but she's part of a team that helps her be her best. I need my team, especially Mr. Incredible. With him around this weekend -- even with the changed plans and sickness and constantly changing gears -- I felt stretchy and flexible enough to handle it all.

Midwest Mom

How do you help kids deal with fear?

We are a news-watching and news-reading family. Between the recent earthquakes in China and tornadoes and flooding here in the Midwest, I am finding that the news is creating a whole new category of fear among my children. Of course, we turn off the television if they are showing graphic images of destruction, and we do not parade such stories in front of our little ones. But they are not living in a vacuum. They know these things are happening. And often, they find out details I would not have shared with them.

One such case happened when my 7-year-old was sitting in the seat opposite mine at the breakfast table the other day. He began reading the headlines on the back of my newspaper. He said aloud, "Four children killed as Tornado hits Iowa Boy Scout Camp." I immediately put down the paper to a barrage of questions from my children. At the root of it all was disbelief, "How could this happen?!?"

For that question, I'm afraid I don't have a good enough answer.

Since they inadvertently learned about schools collapsing in China and Boy Scouts being swept away by tornadoes, my children have developed a strong fear of the forces of the earth. When we have severe weather, especially thunderstorms, they call out for us in the night. It is something we haven't dealt with in this way since our oldest was 2 years old. Granted, we've had some real boomers in the past month. But the fear that has emerged in our children is much stronger than we could have anticipated.

Recently, there were strong storms involving hail and torrential rain. They happened during the day, while my husband was at work. As we kept an eye on the weather channel, with the sound turned low, the children worried about Daddy. "We know we have a safe basement to go to, but what about Daddy?" I told them to pray for God to take care of Daddy and assured them that God knows us and cares for us. I was amazed at the fervent prayer that commenced and continued until the storm had eased.

I think what may be happening is that my children, especially the older ones, are beginning to understand what we adults know, but keep buried deep -- that in the eyes of the world, we are really quite small. We may be masters of our own universe, but that only applies to those few things we can control.

"I cannot control the weather." I often say, when called upon to make it less hot or less rainy or warmer or to make it snow.

In the aftermath of a disaster, I repeat the words of Mr. Rogers. "Look for the helpers." I firmly believe that God always sends helpers, and that we must be ready and paying attention, so that when it is our turn to be the helpers, we are ready.

A relinquishing of control, a turning to a power larger than ourselves, and a dedication to find and to be the hands of help when people are in need do not begin to explain why tragic things happen. But they are a start, and I hope they will be enough to see my children through.

For right now, though, I will just try to be ready when the sky looks stormy and they call out for me in the night.

Midwest Mom

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To share your family's stories on dealing with fear, click on "comments" below this article. I would love to hear from you.

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Better than Botox

What a fantastic Fathers Day we had yesterday. There was beautiful weather, good food, and an evening spent with family. It was such a blessing.

We are probably rare among American families, because my husband's parents and his two brothers and two sisters and their families all live in the same town. Our children know and are friends with all their cousins on their father's side -- 10 children in all. When we get the group together, they play like a fun little Irish tribe. It was great to see all the dads mixed in there, playing tag and hide-and-seek, one uncle reading my little girl a story when she needed a rest, Papa giving her a good hiding place under some pillows once darkness forced the game indoors. Recently, when we visited my family "out East", my husband told me, "You come from good stock." I could say the same about him. A loving family is something that should never be taken for granted.

When we came home, it was late, and my children were exhausted. So, it was time for glasses of warm honey milk all around and bed. For the first time this summer, no one argued with bedtime. And this morning, I think they're sleeping later than they have all summer.

That brings up an essential truth about the difference between being young and old. Older people look at vacation as a time they can finally rest. We hope, on a Saturday morning, to be able to sleep an hour later. We take Sunday as a day with no laundry (Whoopee! I'm keeping the Sabbath!) We hope for permission to be lazy at the pool or camping or at the beach when we're vacationing away from home.

Kids are exactly the opposite. For them, vacation is a time for adventure! They can't possibly sleep late or go to bed early -- they might miss something! Summer vacation is a time for county fairs and barbecues, late night fireworks and early morning fishing trips. Every night of summer vacation, no matter how tired they are, my crew fights bedtime. "Let's read a chapter of the Hardy Boys!" "Can't we just watch a movie tonight?" Even my youngest, age two, would love story after story more than ever giving in to the need for sleep.

And in the morning, I now know that the birds wake up at approximately 4:20 a.m.. We keep the windows open most nights, and once those birds wake up, my second son staggers out of his room, zombie-like. It never fails. We tell him to go back to bed until the digital clock has a number starting with 7. He'll probably only make it until 6:30. Then he'll play dirty and wake up the other kids.

As soon as I see my son in the morning, I know in my heart that our day will have to begin sooner, rather than later. That fact is admitted to myself only begrudgingly. (I guess I know which side of the old/young divide I'm on! Ha.)

I guess that's the miracle of Summer. When the kids get ready for an adventure, they can't wait to sweep us along in it. Each time our day begins, I can't wait see where these crazy little people will be off to. They wake up something much younger in me, and, honestly, much more fun...

Wait a minute! ... I think I hear a zombie in the hallway!


Midwest Mom
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Where would we be without DAD?

In our household, my husband has things pretty nice. At least, when I'm not really thinking about it, that's how it seems. You know, day to day. He has his laundry done and good food. He has children who think the sun rises and sets over him and a wife who misses him when he's away. Sounds like a pretty good life, don't you think?

But there are parts of his life that are, maybe, not so great. When you're a Dad, you find that there is a whole list of things that have, suddenly, become your job. Consider these.

1.) Home repair -- In our house, Dad has replaced carpeting, plumbing, plaster, moved walls, wired switches, repaired roofing, built 2 bathrooms, remodeled a kitchen, and just this week, dug a pit for a sump pump in the basement... waist deep... after breaking through the concrete slab with a sledge hammer. (Whew! I'm exhausted just thinking about it!)

2.) Dead Critter Removal -- The stinkiest, most disgusting job in any household comes when some unsuspecting creature kicks the bucket in an unexpected place. It could be the attic. It could be the yard. It could be inside the wall. When it happens, who do you call? Not Ghostbusters -- you call Dad.

3.) Dealing with an overtired Me -- I don't know about you, but when I get too tired (think about the first three months after having any of our children), I could cry at burnt toast. I could lose my temper at a broken shoelace. (And trust me, I do.) I have the tremendous blessing of a husband who will calmly make space for me to get some rest when I need it. And what a relief that is -- for all of us.

4.) Supporting our family -- He doesn't get summer vacation any more. He works every weekday and a couple weekends each month. When there are problems other people can't fix, they call him in the middle of the night. I give him his props for bringing home the bacon. He does honest, hard work every single day -- even when he doesn't feel like it. He is dedicated and consistent and that should never be taken for granted.

5.) Professional wrestling -- Can you imagine, after a day where you had a 5 a.m. meeting and worked your tail off until 6 p.m., coming home only to be pounced upon relentlessly by three wiggly, giggling children? Dad does that in our house. He plays tag and tickles and wrestles and wrestles and wrestles, even when I know he just wants to nap. ... And he does it with a smile.

So, honey, for the home repair and critter control, for supporting us and supporting me, and for making the children's lives full of happy times with their Dad, thanks. Actually, maybe thanks are not enough. Perhaps I'll say thanks and bake you a pie. :)

With all my love,

Midwest Mom