Parent Grades

I gave my six year old a test. Well, sort of. It was more of a test for me. I found these parent report cards online. You give them to your children and they grade you on a wide range of parenting skills, from playing with the child enough to not texting while driving. As I handed him the test, I prepared myself to be shown as the failure I feel like I am.

You see, I spend a lot of time thinking about all of the things I do wrong in my life, especially in parenting. I don’t play with the kids enough. I don’t cook enough from scratch. I don’t take them to enough fun places. I don’t pull out the crafts enough. I don’t teach them enough. It goes on and on, this endless list of all the ways I’m failing my children.

But as I went down the list, I saw A after A. To be fair, he did give me one B (for not teaching him the importance of being on time). Despite all my faults, all my failings, all my shortcomings, despite everything I see myself doing wrong, my son thinks I’m doing a good job, a great one even. It was a wonderful feeling, but I still felt like I wasn’t doing enough. I wasn’t enough of a mom for my kids. Their friends have better parties, better crafts, better meals. Better moms.

Because in this world of Pinterest and Facebook, the grass on the other side is not only greener, but it sparkles with glitter. And it’s hard sometimes, to remember that being a good parent doesn’t mean having a perfectly manicured lawn or a Martha Stewart house. It’s not about homemade meals and fancy crafts. It’s the quality time we spend with our kids. It’s the love we show them. The joy we share. It's the way we listen to them tell the same story for the hundredth time or answer their “why” for the thousandth… that day. It’s the simple things.

Think back to your own childhood. What are your favorite memories? For me, they don’t involve elaborate crafts or gourmet meals. My fondest memories are just hanging out, spending time with friends or talking with my mom about nothing or everything. It didn’t matter.

It’s not the things we buy them. It’s not the number of toys or the cost of their wardrobe. It’s that we care and that we show them that every single day, but not in every moment because we are human. And showing them that we are human is beneficial in itself. We will mess up, all of us. And that’s okay because the moments we show them that we love them will certainly outweigh the times we get it wrong.

Suicide and Depression

Is suicide selfish? Maybe. I mean, selfish means lack of consideration for others, and if someone commits suicide without considering how it will impact their family and friends, then I suppose that makes it selfish. I think most people who commit suicide do think about the impact though. They just can't take it anymore; they see no other way. Maybe they even think it will be better for those they leave behind if they are no longer there.

You know what is definitely selfish? Telling someone that they should continue to live their life in pain and misery because it will hurt you too much for them to be gone. Yep, that's selfish. Now, I'm not saying that anyone should kill themselves. I don't think it should be glamorized or romanticized because suicide isn't pretty. It's terrible. But it's probably not selfish.

Is suicide taking the easy way out? I can see how it looks like that on the surface. I mean, life sucks so you end it. That seems pretty easy. But when you really look at it, is it so easy? It has to be incredibly difficult to actually follow through and kill yourself. I mean, you have to be at a really low point and have absolutely no hope that things could ever possibly get better. You have to say goodbye to all of the people you love and know you will miss their futures. You have to acknowledge that they will go on without you. And then you still have to actually perform the act. That doesn't sound easy.

All of these snide remarks about people who have committed suicide do nothing to help anyone. At all. You know who they hurt? Everyone. Yep, the survivors of attempted suicide, those left behind by someone who saw no other way out, those who watched as a loved one made a suicide attempt, and those who are depressed and see no other way.

Depression is a serious mental illness. It is not something you choose, and once it takes hold of you, your choices are not yours. Depression affects your brain. Know what your brain does? It allows you to think, process, problem-solve, and make good choices. Depression can put a halt to all of that. It is a dark cloud that penetrates into all of your thoughts, and you can't make it stop no matter how badly you want to.

So stop saying that people are selfish. Stop saying that they are taking the easy way out. Start listening, really listening. Be there. Choose love. Always.

Yes, I realize a lot of this post is snippy and that goes against my choose love motto. I am not taking the time to control my emotions and write in a balanced way. Wanna know why? Because it is too personal. I live every day in fear that a loved one is going to give up. I live every day wondering if I will ever see that loved one again or if we've already shared our final goodbye. I live every single day fearing that that dark cloud has grown too big and blocked the view of all the other options.

And if this person were to end it all, I would not find them selfish. I have watched the struggle to regain control and find happiness. I have seen the consideration paid to those who would be left behind. I've heard the list of ways it would hurt everyone around this person. I know that committing suicide would not be taking the easy way out.

And every single day I pray that it does not happen. Because selfishly, I would rather my loved one live in pain and misery than be gone from my life forever.

Grieving the Loss of a Dream

There's something we don't often talk about in parenting circles – the completion of your family before you are ready. Sure, we talk about miscarriages, stillbirths, babies who have lived only hours or days, but we don't talk about the babies who were never conceived in the first place. At least not the ones who were to be younger siblings to those children we have already birthed.

I have no doubt that carrying a baby in your womb or knowing that one grows in your wife's and then losing the baby is an indescribably painful loss. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain of losing your child minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years after they were born. I am in no way trying to minimize those tragedies.

There is a population of women and men, who desperately want to conceive a child and cannot. For those who are infertile, we wait with them to see if this month will be their chance, if this month will bring their joy. And we grieve with them each month that the pregnancy test fails to show two glorious lines. I've always felt empathy towards these individuals, who wanted nothing more than to be called mom or dad. And in a way, I've joined them. But not fully. You see, I have two of the most amazing little boys in the world, but I long for the third child I will never have.

Before we married, my husband and I discussed the number of children we wanted to have. He wanted two, and I wanted three. We compromised as those in relationships are apt to do. We would have at least two, and if circumstances were such that we felt we could be good parents to three, we would have another. After my son was born, I knew that even three wouldn't be enough. I wanted five children. My husband was pretty sure three would be his limit, so while I joked about getting pregnant with twins or triplets the third time around, I knew that I would never have more than three children.

When we became pregnant with our second child, my husband expressed his concern about having a third. He wasn't sure it was a financially sound decision, given that I had become a stay-at-home mom, and he wasn't entirely certain he could handle being a father of three. So we made another compromise. If baby #2 was a boy, we would try for a third. If baby #2 was a girl, our family would be complete. We welcomed our second son in November 2010.

I was so happy with our two sons, and I couldn't wait to bring another amazing little person into the world. But in early 2013, we learned that my body wasn't meant to carry anymore children. I have spent the last year and a half wondering what I did wrong. I have questioned every choice I have ever made. Was I not a good enough mom? Was it the years of birth control ironically taken to save my remaining ovary so that I could one day conceive a child? Was there anything I could have done to prevent this? I'll never know. I realize that, and yet every night I beg and plead and hope that I will magically see those two elusive lines one day. I have never wanted anything more.

But to those I tell that I cannot have another baby, I receive replies that are meant to be supportive, but ultimately rip my heart in two. 

“At least you have your boys.”

“Some people don't get to have even one baby.”

“Two is a good number.”

"Your family is perfect as it is."

I love my sons, and wanting another child does not lessen that love. In fact, it is quite likely that I want another baby because I love my children so much. How can I look at them and see all of their wonder and beauty and kindness and brilliance and not want to create another?

I know there are others out there like me, others whose families were deemed complete before they were ready for them to be. To you I can only say, I feel the deepest sadness for you, and I hope you find peace. I know that one or two or even ten isn't the number of children you dreamed of. I know that you didn't have the opportunity to complete your family as you wanted. And your feelings are valid. It's okay to grieve the loss of something you never had. The loss of the potential to fulfill a dream. And it's okay to hate the world and the universe and even your own body for failing you. Just remember to love yourself because no matter what caused your infertility, you are still worthy. You are still valuable. You are still perfect in all your human imperfection.

Perfect Conditions

"You can't sit around waiting for perfect conditions, or you'll never get anything done."

I'm sure we've all heard it a thousand times. And on some level, I'm sure we all believe it too. But still, we make excuses.

"After the baby is born, I'll have more time."

"Once I graduate, I'll focus on my family."

"The next promotion will mean enough money to get started."

"When the kids are older..."

"When I quit my job..."

"Next year it will happen."

"Next week will be better."

"I'll start tomorrow."

But guess what?  Each time one of these creeps up on us, it's met with a new stipulation.  And somehow years have passed, and we haven't accomplished our goals.  Tomorrow never came.

Life is finite, and not only is it finite, it's short.  Really, really short. But we piddle away the minutes on mindless games and wasted what ifs.

I'm ready to change that.

Not because conditions are perfect.  Not even because one of my stipulations has been met.  But because I deserve it, my family - my husband, my kids - we all deserve it.  What is this "it" I am so sure we deserve?  It's not perfection, but it's the closest I can provide.

We deserve healthy, home-cooked meals.  We deserve fit bodies that can carry us through however many years we have left.  I deserve a chance to be me and not just my husband's wife and my sons' mom.  They deserve a mom and wife who's happy and not as stressed as the one they have now.

Striving for perfection - that's stressful.  If you're anything like me, the thought of it shuts you down.  So I won't strive to be perfect, but I will promise to do the best I can every moment of every day.  I will promise to go easy on myself and stop beating myself up when my best is not as good as I think it should be and when it's not 100% of my resources.  Because sometimes to be the best I can for them means saving a little piece for me.

So I'm replacing my "what ifs", my "when conditions are perfects", and my "if I can't do it perfectly, I might as well quits" with this new daily mantra.

Today I will wake up and be ready to give it my all.

Today I will give my husband and children the attention and love they deserve.

Today I will work hard to make our house a home.

Today I will exercise and nourish my body with healthy food.

Today I will strive for excellence in everything I do.

Today I will prepare for tomorrow.

Today I will take the steps necessary to meet my goals.

Today I will forgive myself for my shortcomings.

Today I will not let my guilt and fear of failure hold me back.

Today I will love me."

So there it is in black and white - the promise I make to myself every morning when I wake up.  I encourage all of you to create your own daily mantra.  Positive thoughts lead to positive actions.  When we let go of fear, guilt, and regret, we are able to move forward and make the most of this finite life we've been given.

Why I Allow My Kids to Question Me

People often ask me why I allow my children to question my directions. There are several reasons. The first of which is that I don’t know what they will face in their lifetimes, and I want them to be prepared. If they always get their answers and instructions from me, they won’t know how to make decisions for themselves. I want them to know how to apply their moral framework to the situation and decide what is best. I am imparting my morals to them each day as they watch me live my life. And because I believe my morals are the right way to live (or else I wouldn’t believe in them), I hope that my children choose to adopt the same morals in their lives. But if they don’t, I accept that they are individuals living their own lives.

The second reason is again because I don’t know what they will face in their lifetimes. Will there be another Hitler? Another period of slavery? Or something else entirely? I believe that by allowing my children to question my instructions rather than blindly following authority, they will be less likely to engage in unethical behavior just because an authority figure tells them to. I want my children to be the ones using their house as a stop on the Underground Railroad instead of hunting people who are running for their freedom. I want my children to be the ones who say, “No, I will not kill that person just because they are different than me,” instead of capturing and torturing innocent men, women, and children.

My third reason is simple. I want my children to learn the appropriate way to question authority. I want them to learn that while they won’t always agree with what is being done, there is a certain level of respect that all people deserve. I want them to remember that even when there are disagreements that the other person still deserves that level of respect.

Yes, I am the mother, and yes, they should do what I tell them. But they should only do it if it is right. I make mistakes just like every other human being on this planet. And my fourth reason for allowing them to question me is that I want them to see what happens when you make a mistake. I want them to see me listen to their concerns, consider what they have to say, and then make a decision. I want them to see me stick to what I believe in. I want them to see me change my mind when I am being unreasonable. I want them to see sincere apologies – both in word and action. I want them to be able to witness humility in a safe environment. And I want them to know that it’s okay to be wrong. It’s okay to get caught up in a situation. It is even normal to do so. Most importantly, I want them to see that what makes it okay is the way you respond when you realize your mistake because I want my children to be able to admit when they’ve messed up. I want them to be able to say, “I screwed up. I’m sorry. Here’s what I am going to do to make this right, and here’s how I am going to try to prevent it happening again.” And then I want them to follow through on those words.

I want all of these things for my children because the world has enough people who blindly follow authority. The world has enough people who fall into the herd mentality and just do what everyone else is doing. I want to raise leaders. I want to raise people who will make a difference. And I don’t want to do what everyone has always done because I don’t want things to be the way they have always been.

Can We Be Friends with Our Kids and Still Be an Effective Parent?

There's a myth that goes around parenting circles.  That myth is that parents cannot be friends with their kids and still be a "good" parent.  What makes a good parent is totally up for debate, but that is another topic for another day.  In order to really deconstruct this myth we must first look at what it means to be a friend.

I believe a friend is someone you can count on, someone who is there for you in times of need, someone who you enjoy being around, and someone you can trust.  But maybe that's not what a friend really is, so we turn to the handy dictionary.com for a definition.

1. a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.
2. a person who gives assistance; patron; supporter: friends of the Boston Symphony.
3. a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile: Who goes there? Friend or foe?
4. a member of the same nation, party, etc.
5. (initial capital letter) a member of the Religious society of Friends; a Quaker.

Tossing out the 3 definitions that don't really apply (2, 4, and 5), we are left with attachment based on feelings of affection or personal regard and being on good terms rather than being hostile.  While these don't fit my exact description of a friend, I think they do fall into the general terms.

A friend is a positive relationship.  So why are so many people so insistent that being a friend and being a parent are mutually exclusive? 

I'm not saying you should hit up the clubs with your teen every weekend (or any weekend) or that you should buy a keg and chat with them.  I'm not even saying you should always let them have their way or always be happy with them.  What I am saying is that it is time we break down this barrier between parents and children.

There is no reason we can't be friends and parents.  If we want our children to trust us, talk to us, come to us with their problems, maybe we should try a little harder to listen to them, trust them, and talk with them instead of at them.

Are there limits to this parent-child friendship?  Absolutely.  This is where common sense has to come into play.  While I want our children to come to us with their problems, I do not condone parents dumping their problems on their children.  While I want our kids to enjoy spending time with us, I do not think parents should compromise their values to make the time enjoyable.

Research shows time and time again that we learn better through positive interactions than negative interactions.  Friendship provides plenty of opportunities for positive interactions.  We just have to let go of the stigma that friendship in a parent-child dyad is a bad thing.

What do you think?  Can you be a friend to your children and still be an effective parent?

Oklahoma's Deadly Tornadoes

Moore has been hit... again.  Following a similar path to the devastating tornado of May 3, 1999, this tornado has taken homes, taken lives, and taken innocence.  But what can you say?  What can you do? 

Our hearts break for those who lost everything, for those who lost anything.  And we breathe a sigh of relief for each person who is pulled out of the wreckage alive.  The healing will take time, but Oklahomans are strong.  We come together in times like this.  Unfortunately, we have been through many tragedies in our state.  Our home.  Home should be safe, but when it's not, it's nice to have family to turn to.  Family you don't know, family you've never met, family who share this great home.  And that's what Oklahomans are.  We're one big family who fight and argue and debate over the most unimportant things (and some pretty important issues too), but when it comes to devastating tragedies, we pull together.  We help each other, and we never back down.

And our family in Shawnee has been hit as well.  And Newcastle.  And we will help them too.

Thoughts of healing and hope go out to all who have been affected by the storms Sunday and Monday.  We'll get through this... just like we always do.