Another Secret of Time

We've been going to the pool a little more often now that it's been HOT. I've been amazed to see Miss Curie and Angelina are learning to swim after just five lessons at $2 each a year ago, and one free lesson this year. And even Chatterbox is blowing bubbles.

Do I have brilliantly talented children? No, not really. (Of course, I think they're brilliant because I'm their Mum, but if I'm being objective about it they're not overly sporty.) Have I been teaching them to swim myself? Well, not exactly.

And here we have the second Secret of Time that I'm discovering (only I guess it's not a secret now that I'm telling you). I'm sure many other experienced parents already know it well. If I'd spent bucketloads of money on swimming lessons the girls would probably be a bit better at swimming, but my time just being in the pool with them (and not a lot of time, at that) has achieved almost as much as several hundred dollars.

Now, my point is not to say that swimming lessons are a waste, and this is really not about money either. The great revelation to me has been just how much my time can teach my children. I have occasionally shown the girls how to blow bubbles or given Chatterbox a dunking, and the Raamonster has been involved with giving them rides on his back and getting them to jump to him. Beyond that, we really haven't set out to teach the girls to swim. It seems that just being there, in the water - talking, playing, and admiring their little achievements - was enough.

I don't like the term "quality time" because it usually implies that a little bit of time doing something big is what children need. I think that the evidence of many divided families shows that more time doing little things is more valuable in the long run. I will qualify that, though. In my experience, my time with the girls does'n't "count" for anything if I'm not mentally and emotionally present. Chatterbox doesn't get her "fix" from sitting on my lap while I'm surfing the net. Likewise with the Raamonster.

Well, I could blather on for ages, but my delightful little Angelina is reading a story (she's just learning to read), so I'd better practise what I'm preaching and give her some time!

Life in the Trenches

Let's face it, for many of us Mums (the ones I talk to, anyway - I am yet to meet a Supermum, possibly because she's too busy being perfect to fit in a social life) life can seem like a war zone. It seems pretty often when we get together we have something to vent about.

I'm taking the time writing this to remind myself who the enemy is. Many of us are full of pent-up frustrations. We have the wonderful moments with our children, but I don't know anyone who doesn't have days when they enjoy their kids just that little bit more when they're asleep. To admit this out loud (or in writing) seems shocking. These bundles of joy are flesh of our flesh and bone of our bones, how is it that the very sight of them doesn't fill us with wonder and joy, even when they are that wee bit challenging? How is it that, in fact, our baser instincts drive us to practically explode with rage over the dirty laundry on the floor, or the third glass of milk spilt in the course of ten minutes, or the clothing shoved hastily in the drawer instead of properly folded?

WHO is the enemy? We have raised these children from helpless infants. We are working to build their character. They are our equals in awesome potential. They are our equals in human value. We are nourishing and nurturing them in the hope and belief that they can become something great if they choose Right. Why is this incredible responsibility and opportunity such a dreary grind sometimes?

WHO IS the enemy? Many of us actively chose to be parents (I think at least some of this applies to Dads as well, even though I don't happen to be one myself). The birth of each child was often anticipated with excitement. Many of us pored over pregnancy books studying each stage of development, mentally measuring our unborn child each week. We planned all the awful things we would NEVER do as parents, and all the wonderful things we WOULD do. What happened to that dream? Is it gone? Are we simply reduced to surviving day by day, gritting our teeth and waiting for the day our Little Treasures walk out the door so we can cuddle up to photo albums and relive the beautiful moments we didn't have time to live the first time round?

My mistake so often is to think that my children are the enemy. I don't say it to myself, and it's horrible to admit, but if I truthfully examine our bad days, by my actions, I am treating my children as the enemy.

I think there are many enemies in the war zone of our lives. Some people, I'm sure, would argue that life isn't a war zone at all. They have a few minor skirmishes, but overall enjoy peace. I'm not satisfied with that. As long as there are people starving, or being sold into slavery, or in pain, or aching from loneliness or broken relationships - as long as there is any suffering - I am at war. I am at war against all the forces to make me part of what this world is. There are only two choices - to be part of what the world is, or to be part of what it is going to become.

There are many enemies, but who is THE Enemy? The enemy is one who was once called a Light-bringer and I now know by the name of Satan. Since most people don't believe he really exists, he is a very effective enemy, especially against the family. He wants us to direct our attacks at each other and if we don't believe he is there, that is just what we will do.

It may seem like I'm writing out of discouragement, or even despair, but I'm not. I write with hope and conviction. My Ally is much more powerful than my enemy. If I depend on God and maintain the vision and dream of where our family is headed, then nothing can stop me. It is when I lose that vision, when it is blurred by battle fatigue, that I forget the real enemy.

Having a vision beyond ballet and soccer and spelling and maths and dirty laundry and dirty dishes doesn't mean that life is going to get easy. It just gives us the courage to keep pushing through because there is a much bigger and better purpose than our children becoming aeronautical engineers. And that vision is for our children as well. KNOWING that there is something beyond teething and teen angst will help get them through OUR bad attitudes and obnoxious behaviour.

I look forward to letting my children know day by day that we're on the same side and marching with them towards a future that is brighter than any of us can begin to imagine.

PS The BEST thing about this vision is the absolute assurance that it is ultimately available for everyone, even those who die convinced that the bible is no more than a great work of historical fiction.

Guilt and Getting Over Ourselves

I have a confession to make - I don't read Chatterbox three books a day. Some days I don't even read her one! Shhh - don't tell Mem Fox, will you?

This post has been rolling around in my head for ages. I forgot to put the bread in the oven earlier, so now, while I'm up waiting for the bread to cook, I figured I might as well spit it out.

Mem Fox is not the only person out there with great ideas about Stuff You Should Do With Your Kids. And don't get me wrong, I'm all for reading to children. I'm also all for singing to them, and teaching them a language, and getting them out in the garden, and taking them for walks, and cooking with them, and teaching them table manners, and early potty training (or, even better, elimination communication), and extended breast-feeding, and large families, and praying together, and eating meals together, and teaching them to work, and teaching them to manage money from a young age, and teaching them to swim, and getting them involved in team sports, and in serving the community as a family... Need I go on? Do you start to see where I'm going with this?

I have days when I get really weighed down with guilt over all the worthwhile things that I'm not doing with my kids on a regular basis. Let me examine what that guilt is really about. Do I believe that early potty training will have a long-lasting benefit on my child's character and emotional well-being? No. Do I believe that stopping breast-feeding two weeks before Chatterbox turned two is going to substantially limit her potential? No. Do I believe that my children will all drown in the bathtub if they don't learn to swim by the age of eight? No. Do I believe that my children will grow up unable to interact with others if they are not involved in team sports and community service right now? No. If I analyse all those points above, I find the answers are much the same.

So why do I feel guilty? Oh, hang on, it's not really guilt at all, is it? I'm worried about my IMAGE. I want my kids to make ME look good to others! Someone out there is going to think that I've failed because I gave up breastfeeding Miss Curie when she was only thirteen months old. Someone out there will think I'm totally slack for bumming around at home instead of taking the kids swimming. Someone out there will be disgusted that Angelina can't catch a ball. Someone out there will think that I'm doing something really wrong when Chatterbox chucks a wobbly in the supermarket.

WOAH! Back up there! Doesn't it mean my discipline is failing if my kids misbehave? Not necessarily - it means they're human and sometimes think "I want that shiny stuff and I'm gonna get it, and hang the consequences". More or less.

Side note here - I am NOT a perfect parent. I've got lots that needs to change. My discipline DOES often fail. But my kids' behaviour at any given moment is not a barometer of my success or failure as a parent.

I'm not writing this post because I ascribe to the "I'm OK, you're OK, we're all OK" philosophy. NO WAY! Quite the opposite, in fact. It is SO not OK for me to base my parenting decisions on how they make ME look. I need to get over myself. Whatever I do, I'm going to look bad to someone. My decisions as a parent need to be based on solid biblical principles. I need to do what's right because it's what GOD wants and what will build CHARACTER in my children, not because it will make me look good.

The bible is surprisingly devoid of statements along the lines of "thou shalt engage thy child in 4.5 hours of extracurricular activities per week" This "deficit" of specific intstructions doesn't take away from my responsibility as a parent. It adds to my responsibility. I have to make a judgement based on biblical principles as to what are the greatest needs in the lives of my children.

A couple of years ago now we started down the road of trying to track down the cause of Angelina's eczema. In retrospect I would have to say that the harder I tried to fix it, the worse it got. In retrospect, I would also have to say that my search for answers was triggered by FEAR of what other people would think of me if I did "nothing". Looking back I think some of the dietary restrictions exacerbated the problem, possibly due to - *gulp* - malnutrition. I'm not intending to launch into a medical analysis, but that experience was a disturbing example of me putting my personal image ahead of true righteousness and truly responsible parenting.

I guess I don't mind after all if you tell Mem Fox I don't read Chatterbox three books a day. I reckon she'll understand anyway, but even if she doesn't, that's not my problem. Now I'd better be a responsible parent and go to bed so I'm ready to greet Chatterbox with a smile at 6am tomorrow morning.

Homesick

With silent groans our hearts cry for home,
We are strangers here, in a land not our own.
Poured out like water on unyielding land,
Homesick and hungry since life first began.

Our lives written in blood, all our songs sung with pain,
Like a drought-stricken land, yearning for rain.
Yet all anguish is joy when we dream of our place,
Prepared just for us by God in His grace.

So whether we fade, oh, so slowly away,
Or, like a lily, bloom and wilt in a day,
Whether in psalms or unutterable moans,
Our cry is the same: "Bring us home! Bring us home!"

The Secret of Time

No one with any sense or sense of responsibilty would deny that parenting is a challenge. I'm pretty sure that worrying about whether you're doing the right thing is pretty common ground for most parents too.

When dealing with a troubling attitude or behavioural issue, it's only natural that we want to "fix" it straight away. If you're anything like me, if a discipline approach doesn't work within a few days (if not within a few hours), you want to give up on it and try something else.

Recently, I've been reminded of the secret ingredient of Time. No, not spending time with your kids. That's obviously crucial, but what I mean in this case is allowing kids the time to absorb the lesson you're trying to teach.

Chatterbox, like our other two at the same age, doesn't like to go to bed. Sleep must appear to be some kind of masochistic scheme to the two-year-old brain. Anyway, once she worked out how to climb out of the cot, even when the side was up, the battle lines were drawn. Night after night we were putting that sweet little cupcake back into bed with "reminders" that it was definitely Bed Time. Now that the worst is over, I remember that the battle with Miss Curie was equally drawn-out. Anyway, success crept up on us, over time. There are still loud protests and requests for water, hair clips and various other random items each bed time, but these are diminishing over time, AND she no longer gets out of bed! Hooray!

I expect many more such challenges to come our way over the years, and many more such lessons to be learnt!

Consistency is Key?

Since very early in my parenting journey, the phrase "consistency is key" has become a daunting refrain, echoed by many parents along varying stages of their journey - most of them at the end of it, though. (Yes, yes, I know you never stop being a parent, but by "the end" I mean that their kids have left home and are now largely responsible for their own lives).

Every time I think about consistency my stomach knots up, my throat tightens, and my head starts to buzz. I believe these are symptoms of panic. I panic because I know that if consistency is The Key of Competent Parenting, I am an utter failure after a mere six years in the trenches.

Consistency is completely impossible when you suffer from a severe case of "mother brain" (like "pregnant brain", only worse). How on earth can one consistently enforce rules and regulations that retreat to a fuzzy haze of uncertainty mere seconds after being declared? "I think I'm sure I might have told you that if you cut your hair again you wouldn't be allowed to use the scissors again for the rest of the week," somehow lacks conviction.

So what hope, if any, is there for those of us stuck in the doldrums of inconsistency? Or - more to the point - what hope is there for our children?

After pondering this point for some time, and considering the lack of biblical instruction on the Importance of Consistency, I feel reassured that my children are not (yet) doomed to eternal failure.

Certain things are consistent in our household. The Bible is the standard. God's Word is unchanging and absolute truth. Life is not about being good, it's about growing good. As humans we will fail - in the Raamonster household, failure is fairly frequent. Acknowledging our mistakes and our need for God and striving to do better next time, now that is key. Our children need to be allowed to be human too.

When we get lost on our way to an unfamiliar place, most of us don't give up on the whole journey just because we made a wrong turn. Depending on the degree of our error, that wrong turn may have small (being a little bit late if we miss a turn-off) or big (a car accident if we go the wrong way up a one-way street) consequences, but if we are willing to do a course correction, we can still reach our destination. On the other hand, if we keep heading in the wrong direction, we'll never get there.

So, my conclusion is this: there should be consistency in our standards (i.e. at no time ever is it OK to lie) and in our ultimate goal (the glory of God and eternal life for everyone according to His plan). However, by our very nature, our administration of the standards and the goal is doomed to inconsistency (we might be too soft or too hard in dealing out consequences, depending on our mood, the time of the month, how much sleep we've had, etc). That doesn't mean that our children are doomed. It just means that they'll learn to be human just like us.

All Is Quiet... For Now

All is quiet here. Babies are asleep and the Raamonster is out watching a movie.

Lately I am full of sadness. Sadness for a world, so tangled up in the threat of financial disaster, that it doesn't see that disaster has already struck in the heart of every nation. We are consumed with greed. Every time I walk through a shopping centre (and I'm not talking mega-mall, here, just a run-of-the-mill supermarket even), I am struck by the overwhelming amount of STUFF sitting on the shelves, strategically placed and packaged to make us want to buy, buy, buy. This is not the fault of some ethereal "Them", it is OUR fault. To some degree, we all fuel that bonfire.

So what? Little greed leads to big greed and big greed leads to the destruction of little people. If we were willing to pay more for our clothes (and have less of them as a result), then little people would get paid more for making them. If we were willing to pay more for our food, farmers wouldn't be enslaved into buying seeds every year from the same huge company because those seeds are specially engineered so that the second generation of seed isn't viable.

I see so much in myself that needs to change. All those little people matter to God, they should matter to me too. If I'm hurting someone else by fulfilling MY wants (and let's face it, so many things we buy or do are really wants, NOT needs), then I am wrong, wrong, wrong.

All is quiet for now, but the system of greed is fundamentally flawed (and more importantly, morally flawed) and simply cannot last forever. So when the trumpet blast breaks the silence, the question is - whose side will I be on? Greed, or the Other side?