BY KIMBERLY JENSEN
It was one of those trying days, where you “try” too much to make your kids have fun. I never thought there would come a day where I would have to drag my kids out of the house and force them into outdoor fun. Being outside in the sunshine and breathing fresh air is essential to my survival. I need it, crave it and must have it. My children, two of who are teenagers would rather sleep until 11am and then lounge on the couch for the better part of the day. One short year ago, they were waiting at the front door for me with their swimsuits on or their water bottles filled and ready for a bike ride. Today, I am dragging them out of bed.
So today I forced them to go to the splash park with their younger brother for a full 90 minutes, with promises of dropping them off at the movie theatre or the mall after attending their brother’s social gathering.
A few moms from my son’s special education classroom have been gathering for about three months now and holding social outings for our kids, who rarely (if ever) get invited out.
We arrived at the splash park and my two older children immediately plopped down in the shade and made sure everyone knew how completely bored they were. Bennett, being autistic, moved as far away from the other children as possible and then stood in the shade and recited cartoons and a list of movies he would like to see, in order.
I chatted with the other moms and watched their children splash through the fountains and falling water. Mine continued to stay in the shade. Exactly 90 minutes later, my older kids reminded me of my promise and so we packed up, said our goodbyes and headed to the mall.
As I drove home from the mall with Bennett in the back seat, reciting for the thousandth time the movies he wanted to see, in order. I took a deep breath and thought how trying my day had been. Trying to make my kids have fun, trying to give them new experiences, trying to expose them to new and different people, trying to make them smile, trying to keep myself sane, trying, trying trying.
So I went home and did what good writers do, I looked up trying in the dictionary. Trying: causing annoyance, exasperating. I think my kids would agree that I am trying too hard.
Then I scanned up a line or two and saw the word try; to test the result of effect by experiment; to test; to make an effort.
Tomorrow, I will wake up and continue to annoy my kids.
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
They go potty in heaven, don't they?
by Shirley Bahlmann
We're in the middle of "The Mormon Miracle Pageant" here in little old Sanpete County, Utah. The outdoor spectacle of volunteer actors in period costumes is in its 42nd year on lovely Manti, Utah Temple Hill.
One thing that pageant goers probably don't know is that before each performance is a devotional for cast members. It takes place on Temple Hill behind the costume building. There are some wonderful speakers at those meetings, interspersed with those who do the best they can with the talents they've been blessed with.
During one meeting, my 8-year-old came to me with a frown on his face and said, "The man wouldn't let me use the bathroom."
"What man?" I asked, my protective Mommy hackles rising.
"The one who says when we can go get our costumes."
So I went to talk to the bathroom-maximum-security guard. With a voice that could freeze watermelons, I said, "My son told me you wouldn't let him use the bathroom."
"Oh, I'm sorry, when was this?"
"During cast devotional."
"Oh. Well, you see, if I leave the bathrooms open, then all the teenagers go in there and won't come out."
"My son is eight," I said, smoke coming out of my ears.
"Oh, I'm really sorry. Look, if you could come with him next time, then that would really help with crowd control. I really apologize," the man said, looking very apologetic.
"Okay," I said, my hackles smoothing down. I was glad, too, because raised hackles is not a good look for me.
I walked away, reflecting on the lesson that if you really want to reach your goal, it helps to take a parent with you. And there is One who can get through any barrier, from writing block to basic mortal needs. And if I, as an imperfect mortal, love my son enough to push aside my non-confrontational fun-loving yellow personality to confront Bathroom Security, how much more does Father in Heaven love us? I'll bet he even has a bathroom key right there in his pocket.
We're in the middle of "The Mormon Miracle Pageant" here in little old Sanpete County, Utah. The outdoor spectacle of volunteer actors in period costumes is in its 42nd year on lovely Manti, Utah Temple Hill.
One thing that pageant goers probably don't know is that before each performance is a devotional for cast members. It takes place on Temple Hill behind the costume building. There are some wonderful speakers at those meetings, interspersed with those who do the best they can with the talents they've been blessed with.
During one meeting, my 8-year-old came to me with a frown on his face and said, "The man wouldn't let me use the bathroom."
"What man?" I asked, my protective Mommy hackles rising.
"The one who says when we can go get our costumes."
So I went to talk to the bathroom-maximum-security guard. With a voice that could freeze watermelons, I said, "My son told me you wouldn't let him use the bathroom."
"Oh, I'm sorry, when was this?"
"During cast devotional."
"Oh. Well, you see, if I leave the bathrooms open, then all the teenagers go in there and won't come out."
"My son is eight," I said, smoke coming out of my ears.
"Oh, I'm really sorry. Look, if you could come with him next time, then that would really help with crowd control. I really apologize," the man said, looking very apologetic.
"Okay," I said, my hackles smoothing down. I was glad, too, because raised hackles is not a good look for me.
I walked away, reflecting on the lesson that if you really want to reach your goal, it helps to take a parent with you. And there is One who can get through any barrier, from writing block to basic mortal needs. And if I, as an imperfect mortal, love my son enough to push aside my non-confrontational fun-loving yellow personality to confront Bathroom Security, how much more does Father in Heaven love us? I'll bet he even has a bathroom key right there in his pocket.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Don't Let Church become Your Potty Chair
By Christine Thackeray
Years ago I had a friend come up to me and tell me that she could potty train any child by the age of twelve months with this wonderful new book she had bought. At the time I had three in diapers and was desperate so I believed her and anxiously borrowed the book. On the appointed day I faced my fourteen month old son armed with various types of Kool-Aid, M&M's and Cheerios for target practice.
By the end of the day both my son and I were in tears and the entire house was covered in pee. I threw away the book and my young son started hiding the potty chair. For months afterwards it would mysteriously disappear either under his bed, in a closet or in the garage. Due to this bad experience he never did use the potty chair and two years later finally began to use the toilet. I believe it took him much longer to master this skill than it otherwise would have because of that awful day.
Recently we have been given a lot of direction from church leaders about our families. As parents we must encourage our children to do many good things but we need to be sensitive of what they are ready for. I have a son (not the same one) who recently hated Stake Dances. At first I was inclined to force him to go but then I backed off, not wanting the church to become his potty chair. As he has gotten to know more people in the stake, I've watched his attitude slowly change and now he enjoys them.
Parenting is difficult. If we push too hard, we can sometimes do just the opposite of what we intend. We need to teach our children but also respect their agency so that the church doesn't become their potty chair.
AND as authors don't write books that make outlandish claims about simple solutions to complex issues or I may just have to come, hunt you down and attack you with M&M's and Kool-Aid.
Years ago I had a friend come up to me and tell me that she could potty train any child by the age of twelve months with this wonderful new book she had bought. At the time I had three in diapers and was desperate so I believed her and anxiously borrowed the book. On the appointed day I faced my fourteen month old son armed with various types of Kool-Aid, M&M's and Cheerios for target practice.
By the end of the day both my son and I were in tears and the entire house was covered in pee. I threw away the book and my young son started hiding the potty chair. For months afterwards it would mysteriously disappear either under his bed, in a closet or in the garage. Due to this bad experience he never did use the potty chair and two years later finally began to use the toilet. I believe it took him much longer to master this skill than it otherwise would have because of that awful day.
Recently we have been given a lot of direction from church leaders about our families. As parents we must encourage our children to do many good things but we need to be sensitive of what they are ready for. I have a son (not the same one) who recently hated Stake Dances. At first I was inclined to force him to go but then I backed off, not wanting the church to become his potty chair. As he has gotten to know more people in the stake, I've watched his attitude slowly change and now he enjoys them.
Parenting is difficult. If we push too hard, we can sometimes do just the opposite of what we intend. We need to teach our children but also respect their agency so that the church doesn't become their potty chair.
AND as authors don't write books that make outlandish claims about simple solutions to complex issues or I may just have to come, hunt you down and attack you with M&M's and Kool-Aid.
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