I steal glances at her every now and then. I have to stare when she’s not looking, when her guard is down completely and I can take in the whole of who she is – who she’s becoming.
She still has all the evidences of childhood, but they’re fading, and fast. Her face is lengthening, and the roundness has all but faded. Freckles dot her nose and cheeks thanks to the Florida sunshine, and her white blonde hair gives off the sunshiny aura of youth. It hasn’t faded yet, and I pray on occasion that it never does.
I also firmly advise her at every opportunity to never touch her hair with a box of dye.
It’s her expressions that get me. The thoughtfulness in her eyes when she stares off into space. The twinkle that glimmers when she gets tickled. The determination that crosses her face when she’s made up her mind to do something. These are the things that take me by surprise, reminding me that she’s growing up.
She’s still little enough that I’m cool, and I’ll hold on to that for as long as I can. But she’s also beginning to look outside her direct sphere of influence, and she’s observing how the world behaves. She’s looking for role models…and so am I.
I’m looking for the ones who will step before her and offer up an example of womanhood. Because I know there will be a need for those women to fill in the gaps where I am lacking until she’s old enough to, hopefully, appreciate me again. And it’s true that I want strong women to fill those gaps.
As a fiction writer, it’s part of my job to see the trends of the marketplace, and to fall in line with those trends. And right now, the trend is strong female leads.
We’re thirsty for evidence of strength. We want to see strong leadership, and the success of the underdog. It’s why Katniss Everdeen and Tris Prior find their footing in today’s culture. Because we want to see the female lead kick some butt. And as the mother of two daughters, I get it. I do.
I want my girls to have strong female role models, both fictional and real life. I’d rather Tia sit and watch girls rock it on American Ninja Warrior than another princess movie where a damsel in distress has to be rescued by her knight in shining armor.
And yet…
I’m also the mother of two boys, and I’m increasingly annoyed by the messages that society sends to our young men. Watch the Disney channel for any length of time, and you’ll see that the strong female lead has come at the detriment of the man. Most of the dads on any of today’s sitcoms are bumbling idiots. The brothers are incompetent nerds. And mom and sister save the day again.
[Tweet “Pop culture can’t define strength and courage for my kids. True role models aren’t fictional.”]
It’s for this reason that I don’t give my kids lengthy amounts of time to spend engrossed in pop culture. As much as I love Katniss Everdeen and her butt-kicking skill with a bow and arrow, I don’t want cultural trends setting the example for my kids. And I don’t want my girls thinking that strength comes by beating the boys, nor do I want my boys to believe that they’re second fiddle to the smarter, more skilled girls.
Tia met one of the people she looks up to this week, and this is exactly the type of role model I want for my daughter.
I want real life role models. I want real people that my kids can look to and emulate. Men who are standing up for their families, who are strong leaders and decision makers. Men who respect women, who give freely, and who take their role as provider seriously.
Those are the men I want my boys to look up to.
And I want real life strong females for my girls. Women who are brave and kind, who love mercy, who walk humbly, who chase after education and respectability over fashion and fame. I want my girls to know that it’s okay to love beautiful things and to embrace their own outward beauty, but not to the detriment of their inner beauty.
I want my girls to be tough in the face of hardship, but also understand that the mark of a true leader is the ability to follow. I want my girls to respect men, and I want my boys to honor and esteem women above themselves.
Where do we find these role models?
We become them. We become these people to our own children, and to the youth that surround us. We befriend these types of people, and expose our children to true leadership.
And when we see healthy role models weaving their way into the culture that surrounds us, we point them out and we tell our kids why they should admire those people.
They work hard.
They’re kind.
They have virtue.
They’re brave.
They’re giving.
They’re strong.
Strength of character won’t be found in a fictional superhero type. It will be found in the every day man and the every day woman who walk in ordinary extraordinary ways. These are the role models we’re looking for.
These are the role models we want our children to someday become.
He delicately unwrapped the package, eyes wide with hopeful anticipation. When he reached the end of the wrapping, he found another color paper spun tightly around the treasure.
And another.
And another.
Until finally…
He thrust his hand up in the air, triumphant. “Yes! This is the best birthday of my life!”
He turned twelve and we gave him a phone. He has his own phone number, a case, and the capability to text emojis. Basically, we made his entire life in one short night.
It was never our intention to give him an iPhone. It felt frivolous to do such a thing. An iPhone at 12?!
I DIDN’T GET AN iPHONE UNTIL I TURNED 35.
But we had an upgrade, and we had this working phone, and it actually made more sense to give him an old phone than to purchase a new one. But we don’t take the responsibility that comes with owning an iPhone lightly, nor do we expect him to fully understand the power, both good and bad, of the much coveted device.
And so we sat him down at the table, and we slid a paper across to him. There was a copy for him, and a copy for us, and we all read it together.
We read through the contract and talked with him about WHY. Why would we take the time to set these rules, and what were our expectations?
We made it clear that we’re giving him this phone because we trust him to have it. He’s twelve, and he’s old enough to begin handling more responsibility. But we would be foolish to just throw him a tiny computer without giving him some direction on how to use it.
After discussing the terms, and the agreed upon consequences if any term is broken, we all signed the bottom of the paper. This contract is active for one year. Next year, when he turns thirteen, we’ll reevaluate the contract with input from him. What worked? What no longer seems fair? We’ll give him a say, but we will have ultimate Veto Power.
Because we’re the parents.
My job as Sloan’s mom is to prepare him for the world, and the world he’s growing up in is a digital one. He has access to things I never did as a young kid, and a lot of that is good.
But there’s evil lurking in the wings.
Studies show that the percentage of young children being exposed, and becoming addicted, to pornography is on the rise. By age 18, it’s estimated that 93% of boys will have been exposed to pornography. And that’s a conservative estimate.
Between ages 12 and 13, 22% of boys are estimated to have been inadvertently exposed to pornography.
A smart phone in the hands of an adolescent is something to be watched carefully, because even if they aren’t looking for the danger, sometimes the danger finds them. An innocent YouTube video ends, and a graphic ones appears in the list. An ad pops up, which leads to a website and suddenly the a path is made available that can lead to devastating results.
There’s more than just danger to be wary of, though. We want our children to see that, although there’s benefit to having an electronic device, there’s much more benefit to living life in the present. Having a phone at arm’s reach is a temptation. Even I have to fight against constantly checking my phone.
It’s for this reason that we’ll wait another year before letting him jump into social media. There’s no reason to introduce the responsibility of a phone AND social media all at once. Because social media use will come with it’s own contract. Things like:
I will enjoy social media as a side pleasure. I will not live my entire life there.
I will never post something that could embarrass myself, my parents, my siblings, my friends, or anyone else I meet.
I will not get into arguments with strangers online. Life is too short.
I will be wise in how often I post, and what I post.
These are just a few of the things that we will be discussing with him over the next year as we prepare him for the responsibility of social media. But there’s no need to dive into those things now. Because for now, he still gets to be a kid, albeit a big kid. He still gets to enjoy the pleasure of real life, face to face interactions without having to learn the delicate art of online relationships.
[Tweet “In this digital age of fast paced living, children must learn the intricacies of the online world. “]
This is a huge responsibility for us as parents, and it’s not something we should take lightly. We’re the first generation to deal with raising such digital kids. No one else has done this before us.
So we’ll do the best we can to wade into these waters with our kids, one step at a time.
What about you? How are you helping your young children navigate these waters of digital living?
His voice drifted from one room to the next, clear and sweet, piercing my heart with one of those melty motherhood warm-fuzzies.
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…”
The sound was sweet, indeed. Annika got shots yesterday, which threw everything off. Naps were later, meals were sporadic, and there was a lot of crying. It was finally bedtime, and I was exhausted, having dragged myself from bed yesterday morning just before 5:00.
“I’ll try to calm her down if you want, Mom,” he said. I agreed. I didn’t think it would work, honestly. I figured she’d just keep fussing until he had to hand her off to me, but I was grateful for his willingness to try.
Within 15 minutes, he had her sound asleep as he crooned in her ear.
“Was blind, but now I see.”
He walked into the kitchen and threw his arms in the air, triumphant. “She fell asleep on my chest!” he exclaimed. “It was so cute!”
She slept threw the night last night for the first time in months. Coincidence? Maybe. But I informed Sloan this morning that he officially has the job of Bedtime Master for his baby sister. He thought I was joking.
I’m totally not joking.
Yesterday I did a lot of things. Lots of mom-things, and writer things, and a few lazy things, and most of them were good things.
There was one thing, though, that I didn’t do enough of. Today I want to do more of this thing, because today is my only chance. Today I want to hug my big boy – the first one to call me mom. Today is the last day he will be eleven.
Tomorrow we’ll wake up to a twelve year old. A dozen years ago, I held him for the first time. It feels like a blur. I have one more year until I become the mother of a teenager.
A TEENAGER!
I don’t even know how to feel about that. On the one hand NO! NONONONONONONONO! NO! I’m too young to be the mother of an almost teenager.
On the other hand, “YES PLEASE!”
Sloan has become a lot of fun to parent in the last year. The thing about that big loving first born of mine is he’s always kept us on our toes. He’s gregarious and precocious, and loves arguing like I love eating Nutella.
But the past six months have brought a new change. He’s maturing, calming down a little, gaining the perspective of a bigger kid, and his patience is slowly lengthening. It’s really delightful watching him mature into a young man. I genuinely love watching him get older.
As much as the idea of being the mother of a teenager freaks me out, I also cannot wait for these teen years. People always make it seem like they’re something to be feared, but I think they’re to be celebrated.
With each passing year, this boy of mine becomes more independent. Now, instead of just telling him what to do, we get to have deeper conversations about why he should do the right thing. And he gets it.
He’s smart and kind, a huge servant, and he loves his baby sister in such a unique and special way. A few weeks ago he asked me if she could come live with him when he’s all grown up and out of the house. The idea of leaving her brings him some fear, and I’m fine with that.
Photo by Avodah Images
Maybe he’ll stay close to home after graduation.
Or maybe he won’t. I don’t know, really. All I know is that today, I still have an eleven year old. And I’m truly delighted to be that kid’s mom.
This picture was taken three years ago…when he was still shorter than me.
I’m also delighted that he’s so good at putting his sister to bed.
Summertime is ripe for creativity. When I think of summer, I think of adventure and exploration, of trying new things, lazy mornings, books by the pool, and popsicles at all hours of the day.
Summer is for creating. It’s for stepping away from the every day mundane that dictated your life, and stepping into something new and exciting – even if only for a time.
I try to offer my children a long creative rope in the summer. If I’m honest, there are times when I wish we lived at the edge of the Wisconsin woods, but those times are only in the summer months when the Florida sun is merciless, and the flat terrain leaves little to the imagination. But then we have evenings like the one we had Friday night, where we swim as a family in the great, big ocean, and I decide Florida’s not so bad after all.
But I do long to see my kids explore. I wish I could send them into the trees with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a roll of toilet paper, and firm instructions to stay outside and enjoy this beautiful day.
I may not be able to shoo them outside for an entire day, but I can offer them plenty of places to escape. Exploration isn’t limited to the forest. It can happen right here inside the walls of our home. Here are a few tips for widening your children’s creative scope this summer.
1.) Build Forts
Basically, when summertime rolls around, I take a deep breath and remind myself that it’s okay for the house to be messy. I like order. I really, REALLY like order.
But I have four children, so order is a laughable concept. Instead of sweating out the ever chaotic house, I choose to embrace it in the summer. And there is nothing more chaotic to me than a bedroom transformed into a fort – blankets strewn this way and that, kitchen chairs pulled into the room to hold up the “walls” of the fort.
It’s enough to give me an eye twitch.
But they love it. Reading books is boring…unless it’s done so lying back on a pile of pillows under the canopy of a bedroom fort.
If I’m willing to embrace the chaos, a bedroom fort is a heckuva way to celebrate summer.
2.) Keep Painting Materials Handy
Like fort building, watercolor painting makes my heart race, and not in a good way. The paint brushes that need to be cleaned. The drips of paint that find their way to my countertops and floor, the gigantic “masterpieces” that I must find a way to display – it’s all stressful to this orderly Mama.
But…
The other day, my concrete, typically unimaginative second born pulled out the paints and tore off a giant piece of art paper, and she began to create. With her tongue stuck between her lips in quiet concentration, she dove into her painting, and when she was finished she held up her paper proudly.
It was gorgeous.
There’s something very calming and magical about putting a brush against the page. When the kids are arguing, painting is one of the first activities I suggest because is requires a deep breath…and minimal talking.
Win-Win.
3.) Read Good Books
I don’t have readers. I wish that I did, but I simply do not. My children don’t like to read books. So I do what any good mother would do.
I bribe them.
Yes, I pay my children to read in the summer, but really I like to think I’m training them to enjoy the gift of words. There is nothing I love more than seeing my kids light up over a good story. And so we spend time in the library during the summer where they’re given the freedom to choose their own adventure.
This discipline of reading is two-fold, as I must also make myself slow down and read with them. I want to show them the beauty of getting lost in story, so I read as much as I can in the summer.
As much as I love reading, slowing down myself to do so is harder than it seems it should be, because usually when they’re still and quiet, my first response is to start cleaning up some of the messes.
LET THE MESSES GO!
That is my summertime mantra.
Summertime can be stressful with everyone home at once, all the live-long day. This is where our Summertime Agenda of Awesome comes in handy, as well as a willingness to let go of my need for order and control.
A little bit of chaos has the potential to produce some magical days. I’m looking for the magic this year.
We say goodbye to elementary school today. It’s bittersweet. As Sloan prepares to head to Middle School, and I plan to homeschool Tia and Landon, I find myself nostalgic a bit. I have loved their school. I leave with no hard feelings. In fact, loving the school is what made the decision to homeschool so difficult.
A lot has happened since the kids started this school year.
Where once there were only three of them:
Now there are four!
Where once Sloan had no braces:
Now he’s a metal mouth!
Tia’s has gone from this (those shorts don’t even come close to fitting her now!):
To this:
And Landon had teeth when he started school!
It’s been a heckuva a year. I’m looking forward to the next year. It will be challenging, yes. But I have a feeling it’s going to be full of so much fun.
Lee is out of town for four days. That’s important to know before reading further.
It started at midnight on Saturday night (Sunday morning?) when Tia came into my room complaining of a headache and stomach ache. I gave her some medicine, then nestled her in bed with me, and while she slept I stared up at the ceiling fan, mind spinning.
She’s been complaining of headaches off and on for a week, coupled with a bloody nose now and then for good effect. By 1:00 am, I’d convinced myself that she was suffering from all manner of diseases, and I’d also run through the episode of Little House on the Prairie where Albert dies after a sudden onset of bloody noses.
I scooted closer to her to listen for steady rhythmic breathing, and I finally drifted into a fitful sleep around 2:00.
Annika woke me up at 5:30 ready to go. She was in no mood for more sleeping, so I finally resigned myself to a long day and dragged out of bed. I was leading worship at church, so I needed to have everyone ready and out the door by 7:45 anyway.
I showered, but didn’t wash my hair because who has time for that, while they watched TV. Because it’s easier to let them watch TV than to ask them to be productive.
After a bit of shoo-ing, and insistent hand clapping, I managed to get everyone into the car, dressed and semi-put together. We were half way out of the neighborhood when Landon spoke.
“Mom, I’m hungry. I didn’t get breakfast.”
I cracked open a box of donuts at church and shoved one in his mouth…and my own because I didn’t get breakfast either. I let Annika take a bite of my donut because she stared at it so intensely I couldn’t say no. Did that donut contain peanuts?
No idea. Maybe? She survived, so we’re good.
I asked Tia if her head still hurt and she said no, so I’m glad I lost a night of sleep over my unfounded fears.
DARN YOU, LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE!
I put my nine and seven year olds in charge of watching their sister while I practiced for that morning’s service, and I left my eleven year old in the church kitchen alone to work with scalding hot liquid as he prepared the pots of coffee that would be waiting for everyone when they arrived.
Minutes before church started, Landon leaned over to show me one of his teeth twisted around and stuck in a stomach wrenching position.
“Can I go pull it?” he staged whispered. I nodded, and I sent Tia to the bathroom with him to help. Together they worked the tooth out in the church bathroom, and he returned to the sanctuary with it in a little baggie. Then he spent the next ten minutes dabbing the hole in his mouth with his finger and showing me the blood.
Jesus be near.
After church, we came home and as I set Annika on the floor I caught sight of a lizard scurrying across our floor. He’s been hiding in the house for days, but he’s an elusive little bugger. Also, he’s not so much a lizard as he is a small, black dragon. He somehow manages to disappear every time we go hunting for him.
I feel semi-certain that he is hiding inside one of our chairs, but I try not to think about it for very long, otherwise I start imagining him creeping up behind me while I watch TV and karate chopping my neck, knocking me unconscious, then taking over the house and inviting in all his Rambo lizard friends.
Clearly I need more sleep.
The kids spent the afternoon in the pool, and I forgot to put sunscreen on them, so they got sunburned.
Landon asked to play the game of LIFE with me while his brother and sister played at friends houses. I obliged, and despite actually trying to lose, I still managed to beat him by about $250,000. (If you know Landon, you’ll understand why sometimes it’s easier to just let him win rather than deal with the consequences of him losing). He cried, and I sighed.
And while we played, Annika managed to find a stray piece of paper on the floor, which she ate a portion of before I discovered her and dug it out of her mouth.
I fed them leftover meat and stale chips for dinner, and at 6:00 realized Annika hadn’t had any solid food all day. Sundays are hard, and schedules are off, so she’d only had bottles. No wonder she was watching us eat like a rabid Velociraptor.
I put them all to bed dirty, and just as I turned out their lights a thunderstorm rolled in, and everyone came tearing out, eyes wide, full of fear, because my first born has conditioned the other two to believe that any cloud that produces lightening is a funnel cloud.
I promised them that if any of the clouds started spinning, I would retrieve them from their beds and we’d take shelter in my closet. Then I sent them back to their bed despite their tears and protests. Meanwhile Annika screamed in her crib because she took such a long, late afternoon nap that she was absolutely not tired at 7:30. I put her to bed anyway, because I was tired at 7:30.
Finally, blissfully, they all fell asleep. By 10:00, it was silent in my house. I fell into bed, and let slumber wash over me. While I slept, I dreamt I was on a Merry-Go-Round that started spinning uncontrollably while a woman with a raspy voice barked instructions repeatedly over the loudspeaker in German.
I interpreted her yelling to mean I should hold on tight.
When I woke up I was clutching my pillow, clenching my jaw, and the room was spinning.
