An open letter to my children:

I think I have failed you. I think I have raised you with an entitlement gene that renders you incapable of actually working for things you desire.

I take full responsibly. I think that all parents want to give their kids more than what they had, but in doing so, I feel like I have handicapped you in ways that I couldn't foresee.

For example, you think that if you whine loudly enough that I will buy you anything, including a $25 personal blender. Why would a nine year old need a blender? When told no you fall completely apart and say things like "Why don't you love me?" or "I can't wait till my birthday, it's too long."

It's not even just things you WANT. It also an inability to clean up after yourself. It's like you feel entitled to make a mess and see who else can clean it. Or, worse yet, you act like you have no idea how to clean it up.

Middle and oldest told me they didn't know how to hand wash dishes because they've never done it before? Really, this is something that needs to be taught? It's not something you just know how to do?

Let's talk about the morning when the cat, dug all the liter out of her box and then peed on the floor. Did my oldest really think she could swifter that up?

The problem is so deeply rooted in our house that other than spending time on a missions trip, I'm not sure what to do.

My children think that $90 calculators should just be handed over. They think that if they rip their favorite jean shorts from Justice they should immediately be replaced. They think that expensive blenders are toys.

Maybe giving everyone a trophy even if they suck is a bad idea. Maybe rewarding everyone makes everyone believe they deserve to be rewarded. Maybe in an effort to preserve everyone's self esteem, we have created generations of children who think the world owes them something just for being in the world.

Don't get me wrong, if given enough time, my kids can figure out how to wash the dishes or clean the cat crap. They can clean the van or pick up their room. They can help paint the fence and vacuum the living.

So what's the problem, you ask? After they do it, they seem to think that because they did what needed to be done that there should be some type of reward, that there should be a trophy.

I worry that when that trophy, or that pat on the back or that "way to go" doesn't come, they will feel dismissed and unvalued.

And I blame myself.

As I said in a previous post my in laws are staying with me for a few days.

I get along pretty well with both of them. But like all company, after three days we start to get on each others nerves. This usually results in my FIL sighing a lot and my MIL sleeping alot and me dragging wine to my room...by the bottle.

They have been a great help with the kids and they did give me an opportunity to sneak out for a much needed hair cut. My co-worker told me I looked liked Jesus so I figured it was about time for something...but that's a post for another day.

Here's the thing that drives me nuts. My MIL (along with countless others) is always telling me to "enjoy every minute because before I know it they'll be grown"

SPARE ME.

No one enjoys every minute of every day. If they say they do, they are lying.

In the last week my kids have slammed doors, over flowed two toilets, got oil pastels on the couch, spilt milk on the dog just when I didn't think he could smell worse, dumped a bottle of hot sauce, fought with each other and shattered two glasses.

I didn't enjoy much of that.

Of course, they've also shown great compassion for each other, helped me fix the toilets, laughed with me at the milk covered dog, hugged me, shared with me their worries and their hopes, and most importantly put some of the freakin groceries away.

I enjoyed that. Especially the groceries.

Recently I read this post and I think it sums up what I'm trying to explain to my MIL.

Like me, she didn't enjoy every minute. She enjoyed being a parent and maybe now she misses being needed. That's understandable.

But telling someone knee deep in garbage covered in coffee grinds who is looking for that one piece of paper that came home from school a week ago that they should enjoy their kids while they are young isn't helpful.

And never will be.

My co-worker and I were able to come up with three types of parents.  Sure, there are mostly like thousands of subgroups, but in general, they all fall under one of these three groups.

Like me, my kid isn't perfect and will make mistakes.  This group is the most reasonable.  This is the group you want to be in.  This is the group that realizes that at some point their child is gonna disappoint them.  This group takes into account that we have all had EPIC fails and it is safe to bet our children will too.  What we hope is that, like us, our children learn from them.

Not my child.  This group is raising kids who do nothing wrong.  Kids who are wrongly punished.  Kids who would never step out of line, unless of course, provoked.  Once provoked, retaliation is not only warranted but completely encouraged.  This "it was not my fault" mentality follows them into adulthood.  It stands to reason that, like their parents, they will always be the victim of circumstances.

I have kids?  This group is mocked for their incompetency.  They have little interest in the small people referring to them as "mom" or "dad" and can't be bothered with simple things like providing appropriate attire.

Your thoughts?

The cabin

Our week of roughing it is over and when I say roughing it I really mean listening to my children whine about why there is no TV and how come they aren't allowed to play with the ipad.  We stayed in a modern cabin this year, complete with electricity, a fridge, a stove, a shower, a flushing toilet and actual beds.

I know what you are thinking, that's not exactly camping, but it is the kind of camping I grew up with.  The kind of camping I did with my grandparents and it was a nice way for my kids to get to camp with their grandparents.  I mean, my MIL is 70, and she doesn't want to have to walk some creepy path in the forest to go to the bathroom in the  middle of the night any more than I do.

me and my hubby...um yeah

Big G, middle G, Cabin Kid #1, Cabin Kid #2, Little G in the sand

Little G with Chicken the Cat

Middle G with her really big catch

two of mine and two of my friends

Middle G, with Miss K and Crazy B

I decided to sign up for a small group at our church entitled "Effective Parenting in a Defective World" and so far I'm convinced that I am failing.

Here's why. 

Last week we covered eight areas we could focus on.  Seeing as I had no paper (and I call myself a journalist) and couldn't write anything down, I will hit the highlights. 



This week we were supposed to report the results.  Of course, this week coincided with the first week of summer vacation so as you can imagine parenting has been a breeze **insert sarcasm font**

1. Spending quality time.  Does going with mom to the OBGYN count as spending quality time with me?  Don't spit out your coffee, the girls stayed in the waiting room (Little G was at a bday party).  If tagging along with me to the doctors doesn't qualify than insert EPIC FAIL here.
2. Praying for party guests.  I have this image of parents around the world holding hands with their kids and praying earnestly about world peace and the end of suffering for all kids worldwide.  This week I selfishly prayed that guests would actually show up for Middle Gs birthday party.  No one from her school class RSVPd and I have to admit that visions of us sitting at the pool with nary a guest in sight were causing me to have some sleepless nights.
3. Making eye contact while screaming.  I am pretty sure when Chip Ingram was talking about the importance of eye contact he wasn't talking about me in my 12 year olds face asking why she insists on being a bully with her siblings.  Why can't we just get along?
4. Clear expectations.  In my mind, my expectations are clear.  At the pool, the only rule is NO DROWNING.  At home, in public, in life, the rules are clear.    These rules include treat each other they way you would like to be treated (FAIL),  No hitting (FAIL), speak to each other with respect (FAIL), if you get it out, put it back (FAIL), keep your room clean (FAIL).  I guess I should be happy that no one has drown.
5. The Perfect family. The facilitator this week told us to ask our kids what the perfect family looks like to them.  My sons answer "The perfect family has never heard of boy scouts and doesn't have to go.  There's no fighting and everyone loves each other."  I said I liked that last part about no fighting and everyone loving each other and he said "So you like your life?  I thought you didn't."  OUCH insert yet another EPIC FAIL.

Dear Oldest G,

On your birthday it has become a sort of tradition for me to articulate to you some random words of wisdom.  It is my hope that one day you will look back on some of these blog posts and smile.  Perhaps they will mean something to you.

Twelve years ago today I was exhausted, overwhelmed and terrified.  I was about to be released from the hospital with you.  Your dad and I were young and entirely on our own.  Your grandparents were all at least six hours away.  Your aunts were even farther. 

Daddy took five days off of work and we decided that for those five days we were just gonna try to figure out what life as a family of three meant to us.

Nursing was foreign and I was convinced you were starving to death.  You made so many different noises.  You were never really completely quiet.  We were at a loss as to why you were crying.  We weren't sure if you should be using more or less diapers.  We had many conversations about your bowel movements, when your umbilical cord would fall off and whether or not you had thrush.

For a while, Daddy and I forgot how to talk about anything but you.

The funny thing is I can't believe that more than 12 years have gone by.  Often times I still feel at a loss.  I still feel terrified.  I still wonder if you are eating what you should.  I still can't figure out all the things that make you cry.

You are no longer that little baby who needed me endlessly.  Nor are you that toddler who said funny words and was obsessed with Blue's Clues.  You are an adolescent, soon-to-be a middle schooler.  Your looks are changing, your body is changing.  I have no doubt that before this time next year you will be taller than your 5'2 mom.

It has been a privilege to watch you grow these last 12 years.  I realize that over the next few years our relationship is going to be a swinging pendulum full of emotion.  For many of those years you will value the opinions of your friends more than you value mine.  I want to say that I'm ready for this.  That I know whole-heartedly that I can face anything that comes my way.

But to tell you the truth I'm as scared about these next few years as I was the first day I tried to safely secured you into your car seat.

It is my hope for you that you will always be true to yourself and to your beliefs.  That you will not let those around you sway you from your core values.  That you will always give faith a fighting chance.  That you follow your passion and figure out a way to earn a living doing it.  That you will treat others the way you want to be treated.  That family means something to you.

That you will surround yourself with an inner circle that will always be there for you and that you remember, it is not the quantity of your friends, it is the quality.

Always there for you,

Mom