8 things I still do for my teenagers

Teenagers, grumble grumble. Self-indulging, self-centred grumble grumble. Give them an inch grumble snort. Can’t stand on their own two feet, grumble, bah.

I came across a popular blog post this week about things you should stop doing for your teenagers right now. “How can we raise competent adults if we’re always doing everything for our kids” is the heart of the question.

It’s an excellent question. One that is front and centre in the minds of thoughtful parents. We don’t always know what we’re doing or where we’re going but we sure have a general idea of where we would like to end up.

I often tell parents of young children that it takes some effort to ruin a kid — a lot more than loving concern over which baby cereal to start with — and the same can be said about teenagers. We don’t suddenly wake-up to a self-indulging, basement-dwelling hermit or a rude disrespectful potty-mouth: a modicum of situational awareness goes a long way in noticing trends in our growing children’s behaviours.

It takes some effort to ruin a childhood and helpless teenagers are not born they are made. As with anything parenting, intentions and motives matter and I’m ready to bet the farm that you can bring your teenagers their shoes twice a week for 5 years and still turn out a productive member of society. As I am sure that some parents let their teenagers fail classes, wear dirty clothes and go hungry with less-than-stellar results.

When it comes to forming our children’s characters and habits, our actions matters as much — if not more — than our principles. This is why when given the opportunity I always err on the side of showing a spirit of generosity and service.

Here are the 8 things that I should stop doing for my teenage kids but still do, time and weather permitting:

1. Waking them up in the morning. In Hold on to your kids, Gordon Neufeld writes about the importance of “collecting” our children in the morning. It’s hard to forget when the children are little and wake-up whiny and unsettled: we take a few minutes to cuddle with them before they are ready to digest their breakfast. The practice of starting the day off on a friendly note shouldn’t stop when the children grow up. Waking up our teenagers gently, physically touching them to rouse them from sleep, saying good morning, sets the day off on a good note even if they hate being woken up. It tells them that no matter what happened the night before, no matter what argument we might have had, every day is a new day. There is also something to be said for going into their rooms once a day to remind them to bring up their dirty dishes… The world — in the form of their first job — will teach them soon enough to wake-up on their own.

2. Make breakfast. I can’t make breakfast for the family every day but I would love to. Countless research has linked shared mealtimes with healthier eating habits, lower incidence of disordered eating, better psychological well-being, lower incidence of obesity and improved family relationships. We usually think of the family dinner as “the family meal” but between part-time jobs, extracurricular activities and different school schedules, my family is rarely together at dinner time. However, my family often meets in the kitchen in the morning. Teenagers are as sensitive to regular and healthy meal times as 3 year-olds and it’s a lot harder to be rude to someone who just put a plate of bacon in front of your face. The next time your teen is having a “moment” try saying “Here’s a sandwich” instead of “what the hell is your problem” and watch magic happen.

3. Fill out their paperwork. Confession: I’m the worst deadbeat when it comes to paperwork. By grade 6 I have trained my children to fill out their own paperwork by sheer force of inertia. That said, the world of death and especially taxes will teach my children the cost of not filing paperwork in a timely manner. I have no doubt about it. What’s so wrong with learning by (not) doing? They can forget to fill out their passport applications and miss their flight on their own dime. As long as my signature goes on the dotted line, I’ll make sure the paperwork is filled as it should.

4. Delivering their forgotten items. Whereas most parents see this as bailing out their children, I see it as an opportunity to connect midday. We live 20km away from the school: I don’t do special trips to deliver forgotten items; but if I’m running errands or somehow driving by, I make it my pleasure to rescue them from shame and starvation. I sometimes even bring them coffee. Way to reinforce forgetful behaviour or to show my teenagers that I’m in their corner? Your pick.

5. Making their failure to plan my emergency. Our teenagers can’t count on parents being able to bail them out if they don’t plan their work carefully. They are very aware of the constraints caused by living in the boonies with a bunch of young kids. But if we can help, we will. It may mean that a parent or grown child will pick up some items on their way home. Or I may reorganize a necessary grocery run to accommodate their last-minute errands. Yes it’s a failure to plan. But in our family, we prefer to err on the side of being helpful.

6. Doing all of their laundries. In our family, the teenagers have their own washer and dryer, meaning that I never see their laundry. But when our entire family was using the same set of appliances — as most people do — I did all the laundry. I don’t know in which universe having 5 kids washing 6 items of clothing each is a time-saving proposition but in this universe, it’s a logistical nightmare. It’s not like I’m washing it by hand in the stream. I open the door, throw laundry in (at this point whether I’m washing 25 pieces of clothing or 30 is almost irrelevant) and start the machine. Magic.

7. Emailing and calling their teachers and coaches. This may seem counter-intuitive but having good lines of communications and a cordial rapport with your children’s teachers and coaches is good policy (who would have thunk?). Blame Gordon Neufeld for making sense again: parents, teachers, and coaches should be working as a team. Having open lines of communications doesn’t mean that we pre-manage every issue that arises between our children and their teachers or coaches, but it means that we have a better chance of seeing something coming and handling it in a concerted manner. It also means that the one time your child is treated unfairly by a teacher or a coach, you will see it coming and will be able to support your child through it. In our family “support” means that we help our teenagers make sense of a difficult situation in ways that are mature and constructive.

8. Meddling in their academics. We keep a close eye on our children’s academic results and outputs. We don’t do their work for them and we don’t ask teachers for favours. But keeping a finger on the academic pulse of our teenagers can help us identify areas of concern early. Early detection: it works for school just as it works for prostates. When would you rather find out that your teenager needs tutoring or remedial help in chemistry? When they flunk the first quiz or when they flunk their semester? There are many ways in which we raise our children and helping them understand the importance of hard work can be done on the job. There is no teaching value in watching them fail in high school. Yes they have to learn how to work but it can be done by helping them develop good work habits instead of letting them fail and curtail their post-secondary opportunities.

While it’s true that what we teach our children to do themselves will determine their success as adults, it’s about more than packing their backpacks and making their breakfasts: it’s about teaching them to self-regulate, to give of themselves, to prioritize relationships over things.

Emotional intelligence and resilience are the skills that set our children up for success in their adult lives and relationships, not lunch-making.


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2016: Here’s looking at you kid.

I used to write a retrospective of each passing year until I had twins and just about everything disappeared in a fiery crash. This year I decided to pick it up again. I’m sharing it with you because it’s fun and fluffy and not too scary.

  1. What did you do in 2016 that you’d never done before?

I started working out with a personal trainer.

I took a kid to the hospital with a broken bone.

The police brought one of my kids home (not the same one).

  1. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Last year on New Year’s Day I was on a liquid diet recovering from dental surgery and had to visit the ER with some weird fever and irregular heartbeats. I’m sure I didn’t make any other New Year Resolution than “survive 2016.” And I did!! Go me!

This year, my only resolution is to heed my own advice and live fearlessly. I have the “Fearless Family Life” thing down but I’m a fearful insecure person on just about everything else, especially my own creative endeavors. This year, I want to launch into crowd funding and try to get published. Both will require uncomfortable amounts of vulnerability and fearlessness, things I don’t have in spades.

  1. Did anyone close to you give birth?

My cousin gave birth to her first child and a lifelong family friend gave birth to twin girls. Many many friends and acquaintances gave birth. Congratulations mamas!!

  1. Did anyone close to you die?

My sister’s mother-in-law died of cancer in 2016. I had not known her very long but she was such a kind and caring person that one could not help but feel close to her. At her funeral Mass, the large church was full to the rafters. Her death made me reflect on how I wanted to touch those around me, how I wanted to be remembered.

  1. What countries did you visit?

None. Not even my own. I visited South Korea through the tv series Descendants of the Sun and the northern coast of Spain through Gran Hotel. That counts right?

  1. What would you like to have in 2017 that you lacked in 2016?

Health, fitness, a positive self-image and confidence? And the right meds to achieve it.

  1. What dates from 2016 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

I don’t remember dates. The winter of 2016 is one big blur, I don’t even recall it happening at all. I’m assuming nothing noteworthy happened although I’m sure my family will let me know by email if I’m off the mark. The Spring of 2016 was when homeschooling wrapped me up and we rolled into the Summer holidays a little early.

  1. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Giving up gluten for good. Finding Ritter’s Rum Soaked Raisins chocolate again after a too long absence.

  1. What was your biggest failure?

I got pregnant with my 10th child in 2015 and was due to deliver on March 30th 2016. That didn’t happen. Homeschooling was a big fat fail. Not because I think that sending the children back to school is a failure: our other children have done very well in school and I’m one of a handful of homeschoolers who believes that kids do learn something in school. The failure was to live up to my own standards, of still not being the person I want to be. Homeschooling has taken a lot out of me, and I’m proud of myself for having tried. But doing so prevented me from developing skills in the things I am good at such as writing and music. When I look back at our homeschooling adventure, I don’t (yet) see much to show for it. I’m sure perspective will grow on me like moss, with time and a peaceful spot in the shade.

  1. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Nothing new this year. Hashimoto’s thyroiditis is still kicking my ass daily.

  1. What was the best thing you bought?

Chocolate, Pu Er tea and the entire Nashville discography.

  1. Where did most of your money go?

Depends how you look at it. Most of our family’s income goes to taxes. If you consider after-tax money, the mortgage is probably the largest number on the family’s spreadsheet.

  1. What did you get really excited about?

Starting music again. I had my Taylor guitar repaired and started playing for the first time in 10 years. I also learned to play the piano enough to play at church. Playing at church just about kills me every week but it gives me the motivation to practice. I occasionally sing with my daughters – at home, not at church —  when they indulge me. Singing with my daughters is the single best part of my days when it happens.

  1. What song will always remind you of 2016?

Probably Alexander Hamilton

  1. Compared to this time last year, are you:
    – happier or sadder? Roughly the same but more frazzled so I’ll say “happier” just because I WANT TO BELIEVE!
    – thinner or fatter? Thinner by a whopping 5 lbs on a good month. Same on a bad one. Thanks for nothing thyroid jerk.
    – richer or poorer? Richer
  2. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Writing. Finishing stuff.

  1. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Anxiate. Is that a verb? Compare myself to better-looking and more talented people. Believe that there’s no point writing because the world doesn’t need another book/song/blog post, especially not one written by someone less talented than (fill blank with current literary obsession).

  1. How did you spend Christmas?

Éloïse summed it up nicely on Twitter:

 

  1. What was your favorite TV program?

Nashville and Gran Hotel

  1. What were your favorite books of the year?

On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft (Stephen King), Far from the Madding Crowd (Thomas Harding), Writing Better Lyrics (Pat Pattison) and Au Bonheur des Dames (Émile Zola)

  1. What was your favorite music from this year?

The Nashville Soundtrack, Half Moon Run, Miranda Lambert, The Lumineers, Hamilton.

  1. What were your favorite films of the year?

I saw three movies released in 2016: Fantastic Beasts, some kid movie I can’t recall and LaLaLand. Of the three, LaLaLand was my favorite.

  1. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 43 and I was in Toronto with Éloïse, Marie and a friend for the Pentatonix / Us the Duo concert at the ACC.

  1. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Losing the 20 lbs I should have lost a long time ago given the way I eat and exercise. Oh well, I didn’t gain 50 more pounds and that’s satisfying, I guess.

  1. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2016?

Flowy tops from Winners, jeans from Mark’s.

  1. What kept you sane?

Music and exercise, thyroid meds and a generous side of chocolate.

  1. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2016.

“Think small to go big”. That’s from Seth Godin. I had been wracking my brain trying to figure out how to make my blog “go big”. I wanted to write the type of posts that make blogs popular – read: “earn income” — but I was in a conundrum because I don’t read any blogs that are popular. I was stuck trying to put out a message that I wouldn’t read if someone else posted it. That’s when I heard Seth Godin on the Tim Ferriss podcast say “Think small to go big.” Meaning that if you can’t touch one person’s life, what makes you think that you can touch a million? I realized that being able to interact with my readers one-on-one, knowing them by name, being friends on social media, was what made my content special to my readers. I’ll never have the mean or fluffy streak that makes blogs go viral because I’m always striving for a genuine contact. When I accepted that this was the smaller and slower approach I wanted to maintain, it freed me to look for alternative methods of generating income online such as crowd funding. I don’t know if I will ever earn anything that way — it’s hard to convince people to pay for something they have been getting for free for years — but at least it will be on my own terms. And as a creative type, that’s the best I can hope for.

What I wrote in my notebook when I heard “Think small to go big.”

 

 

Life as a river

I was going to start this blog post with some poetic musing about life being a winding road and how we don’t always end up where we thought we would. But even winding roads lead somewhere: a ditch, a dead-end, another road, a pretty little cabin in the woods. Life is a series of decisions which have ramifications, consequences, and more decision points. Days grow into weeks, weeks into months, months into years and suddenly you are 43 wondering where the heck it is you’re going. Sorry, am I talking to myself again?

My husband and I have changing our minds and correcting course down to an art form. Blessed are the flexible for they shall not break. In our 20 years of marriage, we’ve owned more cars than we can remember, we moved 10 times within the Ottawa area, bought big houses, sold big houses, bought little houses, sold little houses, rented houses, gutted main floors, finished basements and built from scratch. I have been a student-mom, a stay-at-home mom, a homeschooler, a failed homeschooler, a graduate-student mom, a full-time working mom, a part-time working mom. My husband has worked full-time, part-time, homeschooled when I could not, supported my pipe dreams and ambitions. He has started companies, joined companies, left companies, owned companies, sold companies. In the middle of all this, we had 9 children and lost two to miscarriage. We have lifestyle ADHD I think.

While I envy people who relentlessly pursue one thing, I am pleased by our ability to roll with the punches. We relentlessly pursue the stability of our family, no matter the personal cost. We may not have taken our respective careers in measurably successful paths — unless paying bills counts, which it should — but we know why. When my daughter asked me why I had not pursued a musical, legal or political career, despite my affinities for all three, I told her that I chose my family at every fork in the road. These are not career paths with stable incomes, regular hours and holidays. Each involves a good amount of damning the torpedoes. Maybe life’s road is not so winding after all, it’s more like a river, digging its bed by force of repeated decisions. We follow a road to where it leads us but the river digs its own bed, just like we make our lives to our image.

Last week, my husband and I met with the principal of the nearest French elementary school. See, we’re sending the children back to school after Christmas. With our two teenage daughters starting high school last September, this marks the end of our homeschooling journey. You can learn more about our discernment process by listening to my first podcast on discerning homeschooling.

Un-mixing the mixed feeling is a new journey of discovery and reinvention. In my life, I have accomplished things that required effort, things that required self-discipline, things that required commitment, physically demanding things, emotionally demanding things, everything demanding things. I’ve poured myself out and filled myself up all over again. I’ve stumbled, fell, dusted myself up and picked myself up. I never thought I was cut out for homeschooling but I thought I could channel all my brainpower and energy into this one thing and give it some forward momentum. The kind of energy and brain power I used to power a Master’s degree in Law with a breastfeeding infant, my fifth child, in Montreal, while we lived in Ottawa.

In 2016, I taught myself to knit, play the guitar and the piano, use Adobe InDesign and a few other things. But like my Master’s degree, those are things I can control, only limited by the capacity of my brain and the speed of my fingers. I felt called to homeschool and I thought that I could develop that skill just like music or design. As it turns out, I couldn’t. As it turns out, loving your children is not always enough. As it turns out, things are not as simple as they seem. Homeschooling involves other humans and you can’t switch them on and off.

I have wracked my brain wondering why God would call me to something I was so woefully unable to provide. Why give me talents that are of no use to a mother of many, that stay bottled-up inside, stuck in my throat? Why give me a writing talent I don’t have time to use? Why give me a musical talent I can’t develop? Why give me 9 children and talents that involve quiet introspection? Why wasn’t I equipped with what I needed to answer this call? I don’t know. Either God made a mistake (unlikely) or I’m not humble enough to see the wisdom in the plan (very likely). Or maybe the call was to greater humility, masquerading as a call to homeschool. Maybe homeschooling was the light post I was supposed to walk into.

So my life flows on like a river, part water, part banks, unsure if I am the constraints or the current. At times spectator and actor, it lives me as much as I live it.