We have reached a critical point in our greater military family. My husband is Army, so that is what I base my thoughts on, but I hear similar things happening in our sister services.
We, the families, are stretched nearly to the breaking point, just as many of our soldiers are.
Many of us are focused on getting through today, and tomorrow will have to take care of itself.
This is HARD. For everyone.
It SUCKS. For everyone.
It breaks my heart to hear of Army wives forming a circular firing squad.
It makes me cry to hear about spouses who broke, and how social services got involved, because this time the loneliness and the stress was just too much.
I worry that we are all becoming so hardened by the long and repeated separations, that we have our eyes on the road right in front of our feet, so much so that we can't look left or right. I worry that so many of us are at our limit, that our emotional resources to support our fellow spouses are running low.
Women need to vent. Like a teapot that builds up steam and whistles, the stress and fatigue, frustration and loneliness reach a boiling point within us and it demands release. Hopefully we all have an ear that will just listen. Because most of our issues, let's face it, won't really be resolved. Even our soldier's return will not make things "normal" again. "Normal" is one of those elusive things that we are destined to chase as long as this war continues. My husband used to try to give me solutions to the things that were bothering me. But really I just wanted him to hear me, love me and say that it was okay to feel that way.
That is what we need to do for each other in our hours of need. Even if your own situation isn't a whole heck of a lot better.
I have six children, ranging in age from 12 to 8 mos. #6 was 3 mos old when my husband left. I have people struggling in school, struggling to make friends, bed-wetting, thumb-sucking, refusing to potty train, teething, and waking up throughout the night. Yes, it is challenging. Some days it even sucks. But this is my life, and I will do what I can to make the very best of it. Does this mean that if a mom with just one child is having a hard time that I will deny her the chance to release those pent up feelings? Absolutely not. Even if a spouse has no children, her struggles are just as valid as mine. I try not to complain to random people, because we all carry different crosses. My baby was only 3 months when my husband left. A friend of mine had her husband's deployment date jump forward, and her husband missed his daughter's birth. I will not complain about my 6 healthy (if overly exuberant) kids, because some people have kids with special needs, and their soldier is gone too. I am blessed to have certain friends I know I can call- to get stuff off my chest when that pressure reaches the boiling point.
We need to be there. To listen. Especially for the young families.
My husband has 17 years in. It gives me a thrill to say we have three years left and then we can call it day (or stay in, but it will be our decision). I had an awful lot of Army under my belt before the war on terror. Many young spouses are in a new community with all those "new spouse" issues, most likely away from home in some place they never heard of before (because does anyone really know where Clarksville, TN is, besides military folk?). And then they have to learn to deal with deployment too. I feel responsible as a "senior spouse" (God, that makes me feel old) to do what I can to ease their path.
When my husband joined the unit with which he is deployed, I ran across a very interesting situation. There were NO senior spouses. There were lots of single people and geographical bachelors, and a dual military couple, just for some variety. The wives of the senior people in the brigade had decided to live wherever they were (not near our post) and let their soldiers prep for deploying and deploy without adding the stress of relocation to their family. I will not say if that is right or wrong, because it is not my marriage. I cannot say what I would do until a particular situation presents itself, and maybe I would let my husband go on without me in some instances. But it is indicative of the state of our Army. We are exhausted. Many of us are hanging on by the tips of our fingernails. We are doing the best we can to preserve some level of sanity for ourselves and our children. But we also weaken the bonds of the Army community at large by refusing to participate.
Our military community these days feels very much like a house of cards. Exhaustion, depression, divorce, and reintegration that never gets completed have taken their toll. The fact that there is a huge wait to get into counseling services tells a story too. We want to be strong, to hang in. But, like cards, we can't stand alone. We need to lean and be leaned on. Give when you can, take when you need to.
I was blessed to have fabulous neighbors and friends when my husband was in Iraq. During the deployment, someone brought home a norovirus. #5 got sick first. She was one year old. Two days later, the rest of us became horribly ill. I was so sick, I couldn't even take care of my kids. My friend, who had two kids (11 and 9) and a deployed husband, spent the night at my house, nursing my sick kids when I couldn't. When I was finally back on my feet and thanked her profusely, she said that when her husband was gone and her kids were small, she had a neighbor that was always helping her out. When she told the neighbor she felt badly that she couldn't do anything in return, the neighbor said that one day she would be able to do it for someone else. That now she had to take, but later, she would be able to give to someone else. I cannot overstate how grateful I am to that particular friend.
Try to listen to that spouse who whines a lot. Maybe you can share a little wisdom and open her eyes to the fact that she is one of many bearing a great burden. Maybe the only thing you have to give is some cookies or a recommendation for a dentist that she was looking for. If today is that day that has you dreaming of running off to a tropical island, well, then tend to yourself. Turn to those who support you.
It is so challenging, because we are all threadbare. But we need to stand together with and for each other.
If we do not, then who will?
29 October 2010
27 October 2010
I don't know how I do it either.
"I just don't know how you do it"
I am fairly certain it is meant as a compliment. But if you want to know the truth, I am standing there thinking," BOY! Have I got you fooled!" It just goes to show that a well-coordinated outfit and cute shoes make everyone believe you have your life in order.
I really believe that you get what you can handle plus a little bit, just to stretch you and help you grow. There are some days that I don't particularly enjoy the stretching and growing. Those are the days when I fantasize about the NYC apartment I could be sharing with 2 cats. Cats that would let me take a shower and have a phone conversation without interrupting me for drinks, snacks, or technical assistance with the TV. Luckily for my kids, they are pretty cute and entertaining to boot. So I continue my attempts to block off enough time to shower and live in a house in the 'burbs.
I read an interesting article about the gaping chasm between civilians and military servicemen. The writer briefly touched on families- how a lot of us live on the installation, behind fences and razor wire and with armed guards at the gates. Talk about "gated communities". While I don't think that anyone would argue that military service, especially during war, changes a person, I think the author missed a great opportunity to tell the stories of those who *must* straddle the chasm. We, the military families.
News flash- I AM a civilian. I do not fully comprehend what combat is like or how one can live on a FOB near Fallujah, or trying to sleep while the sirens wail, warning of incoming rockets. My six years of service didn't involve a deployment; I was leaving the Army as we prepped to invade Iraq. But military spouses are intimately affected by the gap- it is bed with them every night, especially when their soldier is not.
We can't completely understand our soldiers' experiences. All we can do is love them and hope that it is enough. But we don't belong to the civilian world either. I can't imagine ever complaining about my husband working late 3 nights in a row (only 3?) or being gone 1 weekend for a business trip. But these are real hurdles for civilian families, because they are used to a level of togetherness that many (especially younger) Army couples have never even experienced.
How many brides-to-be would take that stroll down the aisle fully aware that her betrothed will leave for Afghanistan 3 weeks after the wedding, and that there isn't enough time for them to take a "real" honeymoon? I know one such courageous woman. I don't know how she does it.
How does one hold on, when one has been married 6 years and has two children, but never lived with one's husband more than 12 consecutive months (which doesn't count the time he was gone for training during those 12 months) because he is on his third deployment? I know a woman like that too. I don't know how she does it.
I guess the answer is that we, the military spouses, only belong to each other. We reside on some little spit of land between civilian and military, where we take care of each other the very best that we can.
How do any of us do it? Together, or not at all.
I am fairly certain it is meant as a compliment. But if you want to know the truth, I am standing there thinking," BOY! Have I got you fooled!" It just goes to show that a well-coordinated outfit and cute shoes make everyone believe you have your life in order.
I really believe that you get what you can handle plus a little bit, just to stretch you and help you grow. There are some days that I don't particularly enjoy the stretching and growing. Those are the days when I fantasize about the NYC apartment I could be sharing with 2 cats. Cats that would let me take a shower and have a phone conversation without interrupting me for drinks, snacks, or technical assistance with the TV. Luckily for my kids, they are pretty cute and entertaining to boot. So I continue my attempts to block off enough time to shower and live in a house in the 'burbs.
I read an interesting article about the gaping chasm between civilians and military servicemen. The writer briefly touched on families- how a lot of us live on the installation, behind fences and razor wire and with armed guards at the gates. Talk about "gated communities". While I don't think that anyone would argue that military service, especially during war, changes a person, I think the author missed a great opportunity to tell the stories of those who *must* straddle the chasm. We, the military families.
News flash- I AM a civilian. I do not fully comprehend what combat is like or how one can live on a FOB near Fallujah, or trying to sleep while the sirens wail, warning of incoming rockets. My six years of service didn't involve a deployment; I was leaving the Army as we prepped to invade Iraq. But military spouses are intimately affected by the gap- it is bed with them every night, especially when their soldier is not.
We can't completely understand our soldiers' experiences. All we can do is love them and hope that it is enough. But we don't belong to the civilian world either. I can't imagine ever complaining about my husband working late 3 nights in a row (only 3?) or being gone 1 weekend for a business trip. But these are real hurdles for civilian families, because they are used to a level of togetherness that many (especially younger) Army couples have never even experienced.
How many brides-to-be would take that stroll down the aisle fully aware that her betrothed will leave for Afghanistan 3 weeks after the wedding, and that there isn't enough time for them to take a "real" honeymoon? I know one such courageous woman. I don't know how she does it.
How does one hold on, when one has been married 6 years and has two children, but never lived with one's husband more than 12 consecutive months (which doesn't count the time he was gone for training during those 12 months) because he is on his third deployment? I know a woman like that too. I don't know how she does it.
I guess the answer is that we, the military spouses, only belong to each other. We reside on some little spit of land between civilian and military, where we take care of each other the very best that we can.
How do any of us do it? Together, or not at all.
24 October 2010
I was in a hole. I have since found a shovel and started digging.
I have only met one or two truly starry-eyed optimists. People who really thought that things were always just great! I long for a sip of whatever they were drinking.
I am a hope for the best, plan for the worst/ "hope is not a course of action" kind of girl. Unkind people would say I am a bit of a control freak. Maybe with all of the crazy changes throughout my life, having my books alphabetized by author within a subject area is just how I cope. Children and people who like control are like oil and water, by the way. Unless you can cede control in some areas and just accept it as how life is. Fortunately, I have done fairly well at that. I will confess to trying to force some kind of BAG on my boys (that's Barracks Arrangement Guide for those who could fold (or not) their socks which ever way they wanted to in college). Forgive me for thinking that socks should all be in one drawer, and why on earth would it be the middle one? I think they belong in the top drawer, but bottom drawer works too. #2 pointed out that his feet were on the bottom, so that is where he wanted his socks. Logical. I can work with that.
So, my day to day existence is pretty much chaos. You get used to it. But sometimes I think, "How the heck can this all happen to one person? And why I am the lucky son of a gun?" I am blessed in so many ways (no terminal illnesses, severe handicaps, etc), but sometimes it feels like death by a thousand cuts. Now that I think about it, company command felt a lot like this too.
This week we had multiple sick people (including me) with TWO different ailments. I am grateful that I only participated in the upper-respiratory one. I somehow picked up a sharp piece of metal in my tire. I lost a credit card for a few hours, only to eventually find it in the jeans in the washing machine. #5 fell off the front step and got a scrape on her face. (This is the same kid that sported a shiner from running into something in TX. I have always worried that my kids will get me investigated by CPS because they like to watch the sibling that is in pursuit as they try to run away.) If I get any more emails from #1's teachers, I may just cry. My husband fell off the face of the earth for a few days without warning (testing my nerves, I guess).
Staying centered is a HUGE challenge lately. Anyone who has been in a hurricane (I did 3 during my 2 years in FL- who's the lucky girl?), can tell you how very loud it is. And how, after several hours, you just want to get away from that sound. That is where I am today. Loud winds around me and I am trying to find the quiet spot in my head. I started yoga again- it used to get me some strange looks in college, but I guess you don't expect to see people in a shoulder stand when you walk into the room. I find child's pose most comforting lately. #5 likes to try it with me, but soon switches to doing front rolls and kicking me in the head as she lands. Lots of deep breaths and warm beverages. Maybe it won't rain this week and we can take the stroller out for a run.
After the first day of fighting at Shiloh, Sherman told Grant,"We've had the devil's own day, haven't we?" Grant replied, "Yes. Lick 'em tomorrow, though."
Me too, General.
I am a hope for the best, plan for the worst/ "hope is not a course of action" kind of girl. Unkind people would say I am a bit of a control freak. Maybe with all of the crazy changes throughout my life, having my books alphabetized by author within a subject area is just how I cope. Children and people who like control are like oil and water, by the way. Unless you can cede control in some areas and just accept it as how life is. Fortunately, I have done fairly well at that. I will confess to trying to force some kind of BAG on my boys (that's Barracks Arrangement Guide for those who could fold (or not) their socks which ever way they wanted to in college). Forgive me for thinking that socks should all be in one drawer, and why on earth would it be the middle one? I think they belong in the top drawer, but bottom drawer works too. #2 pointed out that his feet were on the bottom, so that is where he wanted his socks. Logical. I can work with that.
So, my day to day existence is pretty much chaos. You get used to it. But sometimes I think, "How the heck can this all happen to one person? And why I am the lucky son of a gun?" I am blessed in so many ways (no terminal illnesses, severe handicaps, etc), but sometimes it feels like death by a thousand cuts. Now that I think about it, company command felt a lot like this too.
This week we had multiple sick people (including me) with TWO different ailments. I am grateful that I only participated in the upper-respiratory one. I somehow picked up a sharp piece of metal in my tire. I lost a credit card for a few hours, only to eventually find it in the jeans in the washing machine. #5 fell off the front step and got a scrape on her face. (This is the same kid that sported a shiner from running into something in TX. I have always worried that my kids will get me investigated by CPS because they like to watch the sibling that is in pursuit as they try to run away.) If I get any more emails from #1's teachers, I may just cry. My husband fell off the face of the earth for a few days without warning (testing my nerves, I guess).
Staying centered is a HUGE challenge lately. Anyone who has been in a hurricane (I did 3 during my 2 years in FL- who's the lucky girl?), can tell you how very loud it is. And how, after several hours, you just want to get away from that sound. That is where I am today. Loud winds around me and I am trying to find the quiet spot in my head. I started yoga again- it used to get me some strange looks in college, but I guess you don't expect to see people in a shoulder stand when you walk into the room. I find child's pose most comforting lately. #5 likes to try it with me, but soon switches to doing front rolls and kicking me in the head as she lands. Lots of deep breaths and warm beverages. Maybe it won't rain this week and we can take the stroller out for a run.
After the first day of fighting at Shiloh, Sherman told Grant,"We've had the devil's own day, haven't we?" Grant replied, "Yes. Lick 'em tomorrow, though."
Me too, General.
22 October 2010
A rescue heart
I absolutely love animals. Well, okay, maybe I am not an equal opportunity animal lover. I prefer furry, non-rodent types. My son wants a snake, and was told to read his apartment lease carefully so that he can get one when he moves out. I don't mind snakes (or frogs for that matter) but they aren't companions, like cats or dogs.
A cat lives with us. Other families that share their home with a cat understand that cats are pets you never really own. They just tolerate you because you feed them. My cat, Denali, is absolutely insane but quintessentially feline. She loves you on her terms, will sit on your lap if she wants to, and reserves the right to stalk your feet if she happens to be hiding under the bed. She has a great purr- which is one of my most favorite sounds. A good loud purr makes me feel like everything is right in the world. It's just so relaxing...ahhhhh. She is also an outstanding hunter of mice, crickets, tree frogs, anoles, chipmunks, birds, and baby squirrels. She was staking out the rabbit burrow in the yard, but I don't think she did anything more than that. In NY, I had one of the few mouse-free homes in Stony I housing area, and would offer to lend the cat to my neighbors. She isn't particularly big and no one believes that she is about 10. We aren't 100% sure of her age because she was adopted from the Ft Lee Vet Clinic's shelter.
Okay, so maybe I am a sucker for strays.
Denali was an insane 18 month old thing, most likely feral and on the small side. For the record, I wanted to adopt a medium-coated cat that looked more tranquil, but my husband convinced me that short hair was the way to go (he was right- read on to Shaw's story). She was litter box trained, which is the only thing that made the relationship work initially. Our dog (Murphy, RIP) would watch the cat run around and jump on things with what looked like amusement, coupled with confusion about what the hell was going on. Denali would try to run, but we had wood floors, so she didn't have any traction and slid out on corners. Yes, I laughed- especially that time she actually slid into a wall. One day, she ran down the stairs, across the LR/DR and jumped into the wastebasket we kept under our desk. She stayed in there for about 30 minutes, then hopped out and casually strolled into the kitchen for some food. Loony, no?
Murphy (our black lab/something mix) was a stray as well. She wandered into our yard in Clarksville, TN and was halfway to starved with BBs under her skin and a collar two sizes too small. I swear I was only going to keep her until we could find her a good home. I was working and pregnant with #2, #1 was only 19 months old. I did not need this dog. But Murphy was so sweet to the kids and scared of everything else....well, needless to say she still lived with us when she died shortly after #5 was born in 2007. It broke my heart and I actually mourned the silly dog. #1 was very upset also. He felt bad that he called her a dumb dog sometimes and thought he should have been nicer to her. Bunch of saps, we are.
When we moved to TX, I adopted a Lab from a rescue. She was returned to rescue and now works for DEA as a drug dog. She was very smart and energetic, but my kids made her anxious. I researched breeds and met lots of dogs. I ended up adopting a cat (that makes 2) that my friend found in her yard. He was old, dirty, long-haired, declawed and just pitiful. I named him Shawangunk (Shaw or Gunky for short). Shaw was the first cat I ever put in a sink and washed, which is where "declawed" came in handy. He had an ENDLESS supply of hair and I would just comb and comb and comb that cat until I had a cat-sized ball of fur. Then I would flip the cat over and brush his other side. It did keep me busy while my husband was in Iraq- at least I had a cat to groom while I watched TV at night. I was grateful my husband insisted on a short hair cat all those years ago when I brought home Denali. Shaw lived with us for 19 months, until his body really went to pot and we had to have him put down.
During this time, I worked with an Austin rescue to pull 2 fabulous dogs from the Killeen shelter (a Border/ Pyrenees mix and an Aussie/Sheltie mix). My heart broke every time I heard of dogs being abandoned because people did not educate themselves fully about a particular breed and (even worse!) the person that sold the dog didn't take the time to educate them. I eventually decided to volunteer with the Golden Retriever rescue.
Since I have a lot of kids and not all that much free time, I was happy to find things I could do. I did phone interviews with prospective adoptive families and I checked the rescue's voice mail for a week from time to time, and we were on a list of approved foster homes for dogs awaiting adoption. The voice mail was known as the "hotline" because people could call anytime to leave us a message. Too often, it was a call from a GR owner that wanted to surrender his or her dog. When I first signed up for hotline, another volunteer (who did an amazing amount of things for the dogs) said that I must have a true "rescue heart" to do that. After my first week on hotline, I figured out what she meant.
There were a record number of surrenders that first week. One woman I spoke with for almost an hour, because she was so heartbroken to surrender her dog, but a neighbor was trying to poison it. There was the dog alone in the yard of an empty house in the summertime, whose owners left it when they moved away. There was the woman who spoke of surrendering the dog like one might talk about getting rid of a couch.
A rescue heart:
I was not there to condemn or judge the surrendering owner.
I didn't let the dog's current quality of life get me down.
I knew that the dog, once we had it in our custody, was going to get the best care and most love the volunteers (and vets) could provide.
I worried more about dogs left on country roads, or stuck in the pound and sharing a cage with an agressive dog (like the border/pyr mix I got into rescue).
I feel the same way about kids. It's kind of a "let's take them all home" feeling. If I didn't have six young kids, I would seriously consider being a foster parent. Maybe I'll do it when mine get older. My big, liberal-sounding, save-the-world pipe dream is to open a school. I'm not sure if it would have to be private or charter, but it would focus on freeing kids from the horrible schools some are trapped in and giving them a real opportunity. It could be urban or rural, but urban seems more likely. I would require parental involvement and would insist on discipline in the school. The beauty of private schools lies in their ability to tell the kids who aren't interested in learning to leave. I hope to catch them early enough that they will be interested in learning, but cultural pressures are hard to overcome. Perhaps two schools, one for each gender, would be better.
Okay, reality check....
I signed up to be a volunteer for a dog rescue here in VA.
My school(s?) will have to wait at least until everyone is potty-trained.
A cat lives with us. Other families that share their home with a cat understand that cats are pets you never really own. They just tolerate you because you feed them. My cat, Denali, is absolutely insane but quintessentially feline. She loves you on her terms, will sit on your lap if she wants to, and reserves the right to stalk your feet if she happens to be hiding under the bed. She has a great purr- which is one of my most favorite sounds. A good loud purr makes me feel like everything is right in the world. It's just so relaxing...ahhhhh. She is also an outstanding hunter of mice, crickets, tree frogs, anoles, chipmunks, birds, and baby squirrels. She was staking out the rabbit burrow in the yard, but I don't think she did anything more than that. In NY, I had one of the few mouse-free homes in Stony I housing area, and would offer to lend the cat to my neighbors. She isn't particularly big and no one believes that she is about 10. We aren't 100% sure of her age because she was adopted from the Ft Lee Vet Clinic's shelter.
Okay, so maybe I am a sucker for strays.
Denali was an insane 18 month old thing, most likely feral and on the small side. For the record, I wanted to adopt a medium-coated cat that looked more tranquil, but my husband convinced me that short hair was the way to go (he was right- read on to Shaw's story). She was litter box trained, which is the only thing that made the relationship work initially. Our dog (Murphy, RIP) would watch the cat run around and jump on things with what looked like amusement, coupled with confusion about what the hell was going on. Denali would try to run, but we had wood floors, so she didn't have any traction and slid out on corners. Yes, I laughed- especially that time she actually slid into a wall. One day, she ran down the stairs, across the LR/DR and jumped into the wastebasket we kept under our desk. She stayed in there for about 30 minutes, then hopped out and casually strolled into the kitchen for some food. Loony, no?
Murphy (our black lab/something mix) was a stray as well. She wandered into our yard in Clarksville, TN and was halfway to starved with BBs under her skin and a collar two sizes too small. I swear I was only going to keep her until we could find her a good home. I was working and pregnant with #2, #1 was only 19 months old. I did not need this dog. But Murphy was so sweet to the kids and scared of everything else....well, needless to say she still lived with us when she died shortly after #5 was born in 2007. It broke my heart and I actually mourned the silly dog. #1 was very upset also. He felt bad that he called her a dumb dog sometimes and thought he should have been nicer to her. Bunch of saps, we are.
When we moved to TX, I adopted a Lab from a rescue. She was returned to rescue and now works for DEA as a drug dog. She was very smart and energetic, but my kids made her anxious. I researched breeds and met lots of dogs. I ended up adopting a cat (that makes 2) that my friend found in her yard. He was old, dirty, long-haired, declawed and just pitiful. I named him Shawangunk (Shaw or Gunky for short). Shaw was the first cat I ever put in a sink and washed, which is where "declawed" came in handy. He had an ENDLESS supply of hair and I would just comb and comb and comb that cat until I had a cat-sized ball of fur. Then I would flip the cat over and brush his other side. It did keep me busy while my husband was in Iraq- at least I had a cat to groom while I watched TV at night. I was grateful my husband insisted on a short hair cat all those years ago when I brought home Denali. Shaw lived with us for 19 months, until his body really went to pot and we had to have him put down.
During this time, I worked with an Austin rescue to pull 2 fabulous dogs from the Killeen shelter (a Border/ Pyrenees mix and an Aussie/Sheltie mix). My heart broke every time I heard of dogs being abandoned because people did not educate themselves fully about a particular breed and (even worse!) the person that sold the dog didn't take the time to educate them. I eventually decided to volunteer with the Golden Retriever rescue.
Since I have a lot of kids and not all that much free time, I was happy to find things I could do. I did phone interviews with prospective adoptive families and I checked the rescue's voice mail for a week from time to time, and we were on a list of approved foster homes for dogs awaiting adoption. The voice mail was known as the "hotline" because people could call anytime to leave us a message. Too often, it was a call from a GR owner that wanted to surrender his or her dog. When I first signed up for hotline, another volunteer (who did an amazing amount of things for the dogs) said that I must have a true "rescue heart" to do that. After my first week on hotline, I figured out what she meant.
There were a record number of surrenders that first week. One woman I spoke with for almost an hour, because she was so heartbroken to surrender her dog, but a neighbor was trying to poison it. There was the dog alone in the yard of an empty house in the summertime, whose owners left it when they moved away. There was the woman who spoke of surrendering the dog like one might talk about getting rid of a couch.
A rescue heart:
I was not there to condemn or judge the surrendering owner.
I didn't let the dog's current quality of life get me down.
I knew that the dog, once we had it in our custody, was going to get the best care and most love the volunteers (and vets) could provide.
I worried more about dogs left on country roads, or stuck in the pound and sharing a cage with an agressive dog (like the border/pyr mix I got into rescue).
I feel the same way about kids. It's kind of a "let's take them all home" feeling. If I didn't have six young kids, I would seriously consider being a foster parent. Maybe I'll do it when mine get older. My big, liberal-sounding, save-the-world pipe dream is to open a school. I'm not sure if it would have to be private or charter, but it would focus on freeing kids from the horrible schools some are trapped in and giving them a real opportunity. It could be urban or rural, but urban seems more likely. I would require parental involvement and would insist on discipline in the school. The beauty of private schools lies in their ability to tell the kids who aren't interested in learning to leave. I hope to catch them early enough that they will be interested in learning, but cultural pressures are hard to overcome. Perhaps two schools, one for each gender, would be better.
Okay, reality check....
I signed up to be a volunteer for a dog rescue here in VA.
My school(s?) will have to wait at least until everyone is potty-trained.
20 October 2010
They are these completely different people that just happen to look an awful lot like me
I think every parent falls into the trap at some point. During a pregnancy, it runs rampant and is unrestrained. An eager father-to-be buys a football for the little baby boy he just saw on a sonogram. Moms dream about girls in tutus or cheer uniforms. People joke about what college the baby will attend.
As a child grows, we are responsible for exposing children to as many opportunities as are reasonable and prudent. I (like most parents) tend to sign my kids up for things I don't mind watching. Ballet and gymnastics are both indoors and tend to have chairs for waiting parents. Soccer is fun to watch, but it is BYOC and it is hot at the start of the season and freezing by the end. Indoor swimming is fabulous, but outdoor swimming runs into the heat and seating issue again. I loathe football, hence, no one plays football. Hockey is expensive and hard to find in the south. You guessed it, no one plays hockey either.
Call me cold and unfeeling, but I don't feel even a teeny tiny bit bad. I only got to take ballet because it was down the street. My single working mom (for most of my childhood, anyway) was not going to come home from a long day at work to schlep me to activities. I let my kids do scouts and 1 other thing and that is it. There are six of them, for crying out loud. I have to make dinner at some point.
If only our children's interests closely patterned our own. But God has a sense of humor, so He gives you kids that look like you, but that is where the resemblance ends.
Take #1 (please... no, jk). He is 12 and in 7th grade. He may be in 7th grade for the rest of his life at the rate he is going. He "doesn't find school all that interesting." Oh? Well, in that case, just sit in front of the TV for the rest of your life.
He has gotten 3 progress reports, which means he has less than a C or is not turning in work in THREE subjects. Oy vey. The kicker, of course, is that he is quite intelligent, but is a disorganized mess and just can't seem to turn in homework. And I just can't relate to him on this subject. I have thoroughly enjoyed learning stuff since I can remember. Maybe my curriculum was empirically more interesting, but he is giving me excuses I didn't pull out until Calculus 2 (ie. "I don't actually need to know this in real life."). I would argue he really does need to understand percentages, or he'll end up with a crazy mortgage and lots of credit card debt.
My husband's reassurance that he didn't like school either is, well, not very reassuring.
Then there is #2. He is 10 and extremely smart. Like really, really smart. Like so smart, he will never be invited to keg parties because he can't interact with people. Hey, he could go to USMA. ;) lol
What is amazing about him is that he uses his brain in a totally different way than I do. I like to think of myself as verbally dexterous. I enjoy reading, writing, music, the arts, politics, all that good fuzzy stuff. I have wide ranging interests, but those are the things I enjoy the most. #2 sees numbers. He understands them the way I understand sentence structure. I was giving him a math lesson when he jumped in, gave me the answer and explained why it would be completely obvious how to solve that problem. Then he gave an example of how one could solve it a different way and what one could do with the solutions to the equations he just solved. That was one of the many "Who are you?" moments that I have experienced as a mom. I'm sure he's mine because I was there and he has a birthmark, but let me guarantee that if he becomes a math-lete, I had nothing to do with it. He is a perfectionist when it comes to schoolwork and strives for all As.
#3 (6 and in 1st grade) thinks he shouldn't have homework because he was already at school all day. I tend to agree with him for that age group. #4 loves pre-K (whew!), but wants to leave our family and move in with my sister-in-law. #5 loves Mommy- that'll wear off with age. #6 uses her crawling skills to keep me in sight.
I have found that a great truth of parenthood is that the longer you do it, the less sure you are of what the heck you are doing. Especially when you have more than one kid, because, trust me, they are these TOTALLY different people.
As a child grows, we are responsible for exposing children to as many opportunities as are reasonable and prudent. I (like most parents) tend to sign my kids up for things I don't mind watching. Ballet and gymnastics are both indoors and tend to have chairs for waiting parents. Soccer is fun to watch, but it is BYOC and it is hot at the start of the season and freezing by the end. Indoor swimming is fabulous, but outdoor swimming runs into the heat and seating issue again. I loathe football, hence, no one plays football. Hockey is expensive and hard to find in the south. You guessed it, no one plays hockey either.
Call me cold and unfeeling, but I don't feel even a teeny tiny bit bad. I only got to take ballet because it was down the street. My single working mom (for most of my childhood, anyway) was not going to come home from a long day at work to schlep me to activities. I let my kids do scouts and 1 other thing and that is it. There are six of them, for crying out loud. I have to make dinner at some point.
If only our children's interests closely patterned our own. But God has a sense of humor, so He gives you kids that look like you, but that is where the resemblance ends.
Take #1 (please... no, jk). He is 12 and in 7th grade. He may be in 7th grade for the rest of his life at the rate he is going. He "doesn't find school all that interesting." Oh? Well, in that case, just sit in front of the TV for the rest of your life.
He has gotten 3 progress reports, which means he has less than a C or is not turning in work in THREE subjects. Oy vey. The kicker, of course, is that he is quite intelligent, but is a disorganized mess and just can't seem to turn in homework. And I just can't relate to him on this subject. I have thoroughly enjoyed learning stuff since I can remember. Maybe my curriculum was empirically more interesting, but he is giving me excuses I didn't pull out until Calculus 2 (ie. "I don't actually need to know this in real life."). I would argue he really does need to understand percentages, or he'll end up with a crazy mortgage and lots of credit card debt.
My husband's reassurance that he didn't like school either is, well, not very reassuring.
Then there is #2. He is 10 and extremely smart. Like really, really smart. Like so smart, he will never be invited to keg parties because he can't interact with people. Hey, he could go to USMA. ;) lol
What is amazing about him is that he uses his brain in a totally different way than I do. I like to think of myself as verbally dexterous. I enjoy reading, writing, music, the arts, politics, all that good fuzzy stuff. I have wide ranging interests, but those are the things I enjoy the most. #2 sees numbers. He understands them the way I understand sentence structure. I was giving him a math lesson when he jumped in, gave me the answer and explained why it would be completely obvious how to solve that problem. Then he gave an example of how one could solve it a different way and what one could do with the solutions to the equations he just solved. That was one of the many "Who are you?" moments that I have experienced as a mom. I'm sure he's mine because I was there and he has a birthmark, but let me guarantee that if he becomes a math-lete, I had nothing to do with it. He is a perfectionist when it comes to schoolwork and strives for all As.
#3 (6 and in 1st grade) thinks he shouldn't have homework because he was already at school all day. I tend to agree with him for that age group. #4 loves pre-K (whew!), but wants to leave our family and move in with my sister-in-law. #5 loves Mommy- that'll wear off with age. #6 uses her crawling skills to keep me in sight.
I have found that a great truth of parenthood is that the longer you do it, the less sure you are of what the heck you are doing. Especially when you have more than one kid, because, trust me, they are these TOTALLY different people.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)