Monday morning I woke up feeling ill. I had experienced a stressful weekend so decided to go to work anyway, figuring that my nausea, etc. was a result of stress. My boss agreed and I taught my class, leaving a half hour early that day.
As I was resting that afternoon, my son found me and announced he had just vomited in the toilet. Terrific, I thought. Not only is this NOT stress, but I probably just spread it to a class of unwitting preschoolers.
Most childcare centers are required to send children home who show signs of illness until they have been symptom-free without medication for 24 hours. It's been my experience that this policy causes a tremendous amount of confusion and frustration for parents. If the child isn't running a fever, why can't they go to school? He only threw up once last night, what's the big deal? Everyone has green mucous once in awhile.
I personally have a condition that compromises my immune system, and am at a much higher likelihood to catch whatever comes into the classroom, even after all these years. I've had children in my classroom with all sorts of medical conditions that could be extremely dangerous should they catch bronchitis, the flu, or whatever is going around. In other words, the rules are in place to keep EVERYONE healthy, not just your child.
When my kids are sick, and even when they were young, my thoughts were always in the mindset of, "Could they possibly infect another child?" If the answer was yes, they stayed home. If the answer was no, my next question was, "Do they feel well enough to go to school?" Did they seem to have the stamina to complete the day's activities or were they dragging? Did they seem worn? I have one child who only slows down if she's extremely ill. We know when her speed goes down to dragging, it's time to go to the doctor, stat.
In trying to keep our kids--and ourselves--healthy, there are several steps we can take. Eating a healthy diet and getting enough exercise are important. Sleep is important as well, and most of us, including children, don't get enough of it. All of these are important for overall general good health. But even more important is the regular washing of hands. Teach your children how to wash hands. I know a lot of people don't buy into the whole handwashing thing--anyone who's been in a public restroom can testify to the fact that there are tons of people out there who do not wash their hands. But here's the proper way to wash: Turn the water on; wet your hands and apply soap; scrub for twenty seconds (about the time it takes to sing Happy Birthday or the ABC song), then rinse. Dry your hands on a paper towel and turn the water off using the towel. In public places, this is the safest way to avoid germs that spread and keep your family healthy. Wash your hands whenever you enter or leave a public room, use any public surface, use the restroom, before and after you eat, and whenever you get any substance on your hands. In cases where you lack appropriate facilities, hand sanitizer will work until you get to a sink.
Sounds like a lot of work? It is. But it's a lot better than trying to force gatorade down a sad little preschooler as you're missing a much needed day of work.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
Hat Juggling
No matter whether you're a parent or a teacher or a real-estate developer in the middle east, you're quite likely juggling a number of roles in your life. Currently, I'm juggling roles of wife, mother, teacher, employee, and learner. Each one of those roles has a subset within it as well, because each is a complex range of actions I perform and keep up with to ensure everything gets done. As a mom, I ensure my kids have the material items they need, nutritious meals, are bathed, do chores and homework, get love and affection, have down time and work time and play time. Of course that's a simplified version of what I do each day, but you get the idea.
Lately I'm feeling more like I'm juggling my head than my hats. I've got a lot on my proverbial plate and am starting to wonder again if I've gotten in too deep. You know the feeling where you didn't say no when you should have? Yeah, that's where I am.
I've personally been learning a lot about my own limits in the last year or so. I've learned that if I don't say no, the work will keep coming. I've also learned that it's up to me to decide where to draw the line, because otherwise the day will never be done. There will always be more laundry to do, more dishes to wash, more lessons to plan, more material to read. I am the only one who can determine when I've reached my maximum capacity.
I've also learned that if I overload, which I quite frequently do, I'm a miserable person to be around. I get anxious and moody and irritable, much like a stressed-out child. I'm prone to temper tantrums (the adult kind--you know, where you snap at your spouse or call your friend to complain or stomp off to your bedroom and kick your shoes off your feet). Most recently I've been learning that I do have a priority list. We all do, and I knew consciously I had one. But I didn't realize I had a subconscious one as well--one that includes things like playing with the dog and going shopping and making sure my children have school supplies and that the markers in the art center work. Why is this important? Because I've recently begun to understand that quite often, I'm the first person to be dropped from any and all priority lists, both conscious and subconscious. And sometimes, when I'm overloaded, I don't make it on a list at all.
A lot of adults, particularly women, struggle to put and keep themselves on the priority list. There's so many hats to juggle that it's easier some days (or months...or even years for some of us) to just toss our hat out of the equation. But at what cost? How can I give my children more when I'm completely drained? Just as importantly, what message am I sending my children about self-care and about life?
I am so pleased to know so many moms and dads who are better equipped to juggle their hats these days without overloading; parents who model appropriate choices and limits for their children. But for some of us, it's a regular struggle to figure out just how we'll get everything done. For a person like myself, it's hard for me to put myself into the hat-juggling ring knowing that it means I might have to juggle somebody else's hat a little less effectively for awhile.
But it's a good thing to remember...that our roles as individuals are as important as our roles as anything else.
Lately I'm feeling more like I'm juggling my head than my hats. I've got a lot on my proverbial plate and am starting to wonder again if I've gotten in too deep. You know the feeling where you didn't say no when you should have? Yeah, that's where I am.
I've personally been learning a lot about my own limits in the last year or so. I've learned that if I don't say no, the work will keep coming. I've also learned that it's up to me to decide where to draw the line, because otherwise the day will never be done. There will always be more laundry to do, more dishes to wash, more lessons to plan, more material to read. I am the only one who can determine when I've reached my maximum capacity.
I've also learned that if I overload, which I quite frequently do, I'm a miserable person to be around. I get anxious and moody and irritable, much like a stressed-out child. I'm prone to temper tantrums (the adult kind--you know, where you snap at your spouse or call your friend to complain or stomp off to your bedroom and kick your shoes off your feet). Most recently I've been learning that I do have a priority list. We all do, and I knew consciously I had one. But I didn't realize I had a subconscious one as well--one that includes things like playing with the dog and going shopping and making sure my children have school supplies and that the markers in the art center work. Why is this important? Because I've recently begun to understand that quite often, I'm the first person to be dropped from any and all priority lists, both conscious and subconscious. And sometimes, when I'm overloaded, I don't make it on a list at all.
A lot of adults, particularly women, struggle to put and keep themselves on the priority list. There's so many hats to juggle that it's easier some days (or months...or even years for some of us) to just toss our hat out of the equation. But at what cost? How can I give my children more when I'm completely drained? Just as importantly, what message am I sending my children about self-care and about life?
I am so pleased to know so many moms and dads who are better equipped to juggle their hats these days without overloading; parents who model appropriate choices and limits for their children. But for some of us, it's a regular struggle to figure out just how we'll get everything done. For a person like myself, it's hard for me to put myself into the hat-juggling ring knowing that it means I might have to juggle somebody else's hat a little less effectively for awhile.
But it's a good thing to remember...that our roles as individuals are as important as our roles as anything else.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Here Comes Trouble
I had a humbling experience today while teaching.
I've started a new job and have been there for roughly a month. I'm teaching preschoolers again and absolutely loving it. It's been thrilling to get back into the classroom and see the children engage with materials, watch them create and think and problem-solve. And it's been interesting for me to be the new kid on the block.
I was at my last job for ten years. Because I taught a multi-age group (children ages two to five), I had some children for up to three years. This enabled me to be a well-established teacher with both the children and their parents. Of course there were new children and families every year, but there were also children who were "old pros". So I haven't had a completely new class of children in ten years.
The biggest challenge as a new teacher is establishing yourself as a respected and respectful member of the classroom. The first couple of weeks found me making requests of children to clean up or to change their behavior, only to have them run from me or tell me no. This led to me reinforcing what I said, every day, until the children understood that yeah, that new lady is really gonna make us clean up!
In every class there are children who are more responsive (or more quickly responsive) than others. The slow responders are the ones who sometimes need a bit more attention, a bit more direction, a bit more rapport. I rather enjoy the challenge of building a trusting relationship with these children in particular, although every relationship with each child is unique and special.
Today, as we were playing outside, one of my slower responders was playing chase on the playground. "I got you!" he yelled as he pushed into another child, who fell down. I directed my slow responder (heretofore known as SR for slow responder) to help the other child up and ask if she was okay. He stood, with a frozen smile on his face, as the other child rose, dusted herself off, and ran away. As I moved toward him, SR took off running and I called him. He continued running until I said, "SR! You're not in trouble...I just want to talk with you." SR stopped and let me approach him and explain again that if he forgot to be gentle, he needed to help the other child and check on them.
As I spoke, SR's face remained frozen with that same smile. You know the one...the one that says, "Oh man...I'm gonna get it." His eyes darted to my face, then back to the playground several times. When I finished talking, his eyes met mine one more time, and then he shocked me.
SR threw his arms around me in a huge, tight hug.
So many times we turn tiny issues that are teachable moments into huge discipline issues. I could have easily lectured, given a logical consequence (you need to leave this area), punished (time out) or used a million other responses in this situation. The reality is that SRs--in general--tend to receive these types of responses far more than most children, because their slow compliance is seen as defiance. Is it defiance? Maybe. Had this SR and I had other confrontations? Yes. I knew he knew that I meant what I said. It was because we had experienced other confrontations that it was so important to give SR an opportunity to try again, to show him I trusted him.
Discipline is a difficult subject and a hard call in many situations. But this SR's response to me today reminded me of how much power adults have over children and how careful we must always be to use that power carefully, kindly, gently, to teach and to love. There's no trouble here. SR kept his hands to himself, interspersed with brief hugs with me for the rest of the day.
I think I made a friend. :-)
I've started a new job and have been there for roughly a month. I'm teaching preschoolers again and absolutely loving it. It's been thrilling to get back into the classroom and see the children engage with materials, watch them create and think and problem-solve. And it's been interesting for me to be the new kid on the block.
I was at my last job for ten years. Because I taught a multi-age group (children ages two to five), I had some children for up to three years. This enabled me to be a well-established teacher with both the children and their parents. Of course there were new children and families every year, but there were also children who were "old pros". So I haven't had a completely new class of children in ten years.
The biggest challenge as a new teacher is establishing yourself as a respected and respectful member of the classroom. The first couple of weeks found me making requests of children to clean up or to change their behavior, only to have them run from me or tell me no. This led to me reinforcing what I said, every day, until the children understood that yeah, that new lady is really gonna make us clean up!
In every class there are children who are more responsive (or more quickly responsive) than others. The slow responders are the ones who sometimes need a bit more attention, a bit more direction, a bit more rapport. I rather enjoy the challenge of building a trusting relationship with these children in particular, although every relationship with each child is unique and special.
Today, as we were playing outside, one of my slower responders was playing chase on the playground. "I got you!" he yelled as he pushed into another child, who fell down. I directed my slow responder (heretofore known as SR for slow responder) to help the other child up and ask if she was okay. He stood, with a frozen smile on his face, as the other child rose, dusted herself off, and ran away. As I moved toward him, SR took off running and I called him. He continued running until I said, "SR! You're not in trouble...I just want to talk with you." SR stopped and let me approach him and explain again that if he forgot to be gentle, he needed to help the other child and check on them.
As I spoke, SR's face remained frozen with that same smile. You know the one...the one that says, "Oh man...I'm gonna get it." His eyes darted to my face, then back to the playground several times. When I finished talking, his eyes met mine one more time, and then he shocked me.
SR threw his arms around me in a huge, tight hug.
So many times we turn tiny issues that are teachable moments into huge discipline issues. I could have easily lectured, given a logical consequence (you need to leave this area), punished (time out) or used a million other responses in this situation. The reality is that SRs--in general--tend to receive these types of responses far more than most children, because their slow compliance is seen as defiance. Is it defiance? Maybe. Had this SR and I had other confrontations? Yes. I knew he knew that I meant what I said. It was because we had experienced other confrontations that it was so important to give SR an opportunity to try again, to show him I trusted him.
Discipline is a difficult subject and a hard call in many situations. But this SR's response to me today reminded me of how much power adults have over children and how careful we must always be to use that power carefully, kindly, gently, to teach and to love. There's no trouble here. SR kept his hands to himself, interspersed with brief hugs with me for the rest of the day.
I think I made a friend. :-)
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Break-down!
I absolutely LOVE holiday breaks. The promise of time with my kids, sleeping in, doing special things together, all get me excited. My plans in my head go something like this: we'll stay up later drinking cocoa and watching christmas flicks; we'll go see christmas lights multiple times; we'll hit the special christmas displays in the area; I'll take individual kids on Christmas shopping trips; we'll go to movies and shows and theater. For some reason the fantasy doesn't sound as exhausting when I'm fantasizing about it as it does on the end of it!
My daughter and I had great plans today to visit a city about an hour from here and attend a special Christmas theme park extravaganza. I woke at 10:30 and felt like I'd been hit by a MAC truck. She woke even later, complaining of a headache and allover yuckiness. Why, you ask? I'm convinced we're sick of Christmas!
In my home, Thanksgiving is a very laid-back holiday. We eat when we want and it is usually just the four of us. Everybody helps to cook, and we've even been known to put it off a day if we all would rather do other things on Thanksgiving day. We make a paper chain that includes the things we are thankful for and hang it up for the year. And ta-dah! Thanksgiving is done.
Christmas is another deal entirely. It's a very big deal. I grew up with tons of traditions, starting with Black Friday shopping and extending to toasting in the New Year at midnight. In fact, there are so many things I want to squeeze into the time that I can't figure out how to do it. And here we are, on December 30th, and everyone is still trying to recover from the last month of partying.
I've always been a huge fan of Thoreau's approach of simplify, simplify. One of my good friends survived Hurricane Katrina but not without losing everything she owned. However, she survived with her family, and they began the heavy task of rebuilding their lives. Have you ever wondered, if you had to walk away from it all, could you do it?
My friend emerged from her losses stating that she learned an important lesson. Everything she owned that she thought she couldn't live without--photos of her children, scrapbooks and albums and books and dishes and presents from her loved ones--she could live without it all.
I kind of view Christmas that way. There are so many things going on during the season; so many parties and special events we want our families to take part in that we lose the peace that surrounds us. You know, the peace that's supposed to connect us to God. Paring down decorations, meals, parties, and events gives us more peace and more opportunity to commune with God and even ourselves and our loved ones.
Yes, I know, this post is about four weeks too late. But it's not too late for next year, or for next holiday. My New Year's resolutions will include slowing down and enjoying time with my family.
My daughter and I had great plans today to visit a city about an hour from here and attend a special Christmas theme park extravaganza. I woke at 10:30 and felt like I'd been hit by a MAC truck. She woke even later, complaining of a headache and allover yuckiness. Why, you ask? I'm convinced we're sick of Christmas!
In my home, Thanksgiving is a very laid-back holiday. We eat when we want and it is usually just the four of us. Everybody helps to cook, and we've even been known to put it off a day if we all would rather do other things on Thanksgiving day. We make a paper chain that includes the things we are thankful for and hang it up for the year. And ta-dah! Thanksgiving is done.
Christmas is another deal entirely. It's a very big deal. I grew up with tons of traditions, starting with Black Friday shopping and extending to toasting in the New Year at midnight. In fact, there are so many things I want to squeeze into the time that I can't figure out how to do it. And here we are, on December 30th, and everyone is still trying to recover from the last month of partying.
I've always been a huge fan of Thoreau's approach of simplify, simplify. One of my good friends survived Hurricane Katrina but not without losing everything she owned. However, she survived with her family, and they began the heavy task of rebuilding their lives. Have you ever wondered, if you had to walk away from it all, could you do it?
My friend emerged from her losses stating that she learned an important lesson. Everything she owned that she thought she couldn't live without--photos of her children, scrapbooks and albums and books and dishes and presents from her loved ones--she could live without it all.
I kind of view Christmas that way. There are so many things going on during the season; so many parties and special events we want our families to take part in that we lose the peace that surrounds us. You know, the peace that's supposed to connect us to God. Paring down decorations, meals, parties, and events gives us more peace and more opportunity to commune with God and even ourselves and our loved ones.
Yes, I know, this post is about four weeks too late. But it's not too late for next year, or for next holiday. My New Year's resolutions will include slowing down and enjoying time with my family.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Gifts of Love
My daughter has been attending church regularly with my parents for the past several months. Despite the fact that this church does not feel like a good fit for me, I have let her go and encouraged her involvement. She has had some iffy experiences but overall has loved her time there. More than that, she has made a good friend--the pastor's daughter.
The pastor and his wife are a wonderful couple with a rich history. Both are originally from Korea but moved to the United States for various reasons. He initially pursued a career in opera, and she supported him by managing his schedule and work before he entered the seminary. They lived in New York City for nearly ten years before finding a different calling, one completely foreign to their families and cultures.
This couple has made a wonderful impression on our entire family. I enjoy speaking with both of them every chance I get. Moreover, they have a daughter a year older than mine, and both girls enjoy each other's company. The pastor's daughter is extremely bright and musically gifted, much like both of her parents. She is an amazingly talented pianist given her age as well as playing in the orchestra. She is smart and has excellent behavior and seems to make great choices nearly all the time.
As you may have guessed, I can hope that this child's natural self will impact my somewhat-impulsive, loud, fully-embarce-the-world daughter. But perhaps for now, it's exactly as it should be--both girls enjoying the others' company.
Today when my daughter came home from church, the first thing she told me was how her friend's mother, the pastor's wife, had made her a present. She was wearing it. It was a simple crocheted flower attached to a hairband, the kind of thing that most of us would have overlooked. But not my daughter. She had wrapped it into her hair as soon as she had opened it, and wore it the rest of the day. The present from her friend and her mother--this homemade present--meant the world to her.
It doesn't take some sort of genius to figure out why. Somebody put time and effort into making something for her. Somebody told her, through actions, "I care about you and I want you to know I'm thinking about you at Christmas."
It's very easy to get caught up in the trimmings and trappings (thank you, Mr. Grinch) of Christmas. So I challenge you to give your child--or anyone in your life--something simple and homemade. Something that says, "I love you and I thought and cared about you enough to invest some time and energy into you."
I won't be surprised at all if my daughter's hair is adorned with a crocheted flower for several days.
The pastor and his wife are a wonderful couple with a rich history. Both are originally from Korea but moved to the United States for various reasons. He initially pursued a career in opera, and she supported him by managing his schedule and work before he entered the seminary. They lived in New York City for nearly ten years before finding a different calling, one completely foreign to their families and cultures.
This couple has made a wonderful impression on our entire family. I enjoy speaking with both of them every chance I get. Moreover, they have a daughter a year older than mine, and both girls enjoy each other's company. The pastor's daughter is extremely bright and musically gifted, much like both of her parents. She is an amazingly talented pianist given her age as well as playing in the orchestra. She is smart and has excellent behavior and seems to make great choices nearly all the time.
As you may have guessed, I can hope that this child's natural self will impact my somewhat-impulsive, loud, fully-embarce-the-world daughter. But perhaps for now, it's exactly as it should be--both girls enjoying the others' company.
Today when my daughter came home from church, the first thing she told me was how her friend's mother, the pastor's wife, had made her a present. She was wearing it. It was a simple crocheted flower attached to a hairband, the kind of thing that most of us would have overlooked. But not my daughter. She had wrapped it into her hair as soon as she had opened it, and wore it the rest of the day. The present from her friend and her mother--this homemade present--meant the world to her.
It doesn't take some sort of genius to figure out why. Somebody put time and effort into making something for her. Somebody told her, through actions, "I care about you and I want you to know I'm thinking about you at Christmas."
It's very easy to get caught up in the trimmings and trappings (thank you, Mr. Grinch) of Christmas. So I challenge you to give your child--or anyone in your life--something simple and homemade. Something that says, "I love you and I thought and cared about you enough to invest some time and energy into you."
I won't be surprised at all if my daughter's hair is adorned with a crocheted flower for several days.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Changes
Today is a memorable day for me. It's the day that I officially bought my tween daughter her first "real" dressy tween outfit.
You see, tonight we have tickets to go see the Nutcracker. My daughter has clothes appropriate for school and for warmer days for church, but nothing appropriate for this occasion, especially in December. So we hit the mall this morning and learned several things. First, she has completely outgrown any children's clothing. Size sixteen dresses come up to her knees. Second, she's very proud of her emerging "curves" but not so much of her thicker waist. Third, she is stunningly beautiful and growing far quicker than I wish she was.
Is there any parent on the face of the earth who doesn't occasionally look at their child and wish they had the small baby or preschooler of yesteryear? Even new parents marvel at how quickly their newborns grow into infants, developing mobility and senses of humor. Every step our children take toward independence is amazing and magical to us. We forget the struggles of colic and remember the snuggly baby. We dismiss the tantrums of preschoolers and remember the excitement over this beautiful new world.
As I watched my precocious eleven-year old today, who stands as tall as me and is probably just as intelligent (even if lacking life experience), I missed the little girl who fit into the sweet children's dresses; the toddler who wore April Cornell and pigtails and sandals when we went to tea. Tonight she'll be wearing a soft cashmere ivory sweater with a buckle in the front and a black sateen skirt with rosettes. Her off black hose (her first pair) will match the black shoes decorated with rosettes as well. And as much as I miss yesterday, I'm thrilled to see the young woman she's turning into.
I still have a little girl; one who likes to play Monopoly and decorate the christmas tree and hang out to watch The Grinch. But I also have one that cleans up well and is a marvelous, magical mix of child and young adult. And as worried and anxious as I get, I am enthralled by this ever-changing person in my house.
I'm sure you are with yours, too.
You see, tonight we have tickets to go see the Nutcracker. My daughter has clothes appropriate for school and for warmer days for church, but nothing appropriate for this occasion, especially in December. So we hit the mall this morning and learned several things. First, she has completely outgrown any children's clothing. Size sixteen dresses come up to her knees. Second, she's very proud of her emerging "curves" but not so much of her thicker waist. Third, she is stunningly beautiful and growing far quicker than I wish she was.
Is there any parent on the face of the earth who doesn't occasionally look at their child and wish they had the small baby or preschooler of yesteryear? Even new parents marvel at how quickly their newborns grow into infants, developing mobility and senses of humor. Every step our children take toward independence is amazing and magical to us. We forget the struggles of colic and remember the snuggly baby. We dismiss the tantrums of preschoolers and remember the excitement over this beautiful new world.
As I watched my precocious eleven-year old today, who stands as tall as me and is probably just as intelligent (even if lacking life experience), I missed the little girl who fit into the sweet children's dresses; the toddler who wore April Cornell and pigtails and sandals when we went to tea. Tonight she'll be wearing a soft cashmere ivory sweater with a buckle in the front and a black sateen skirt with rosettes. Her off black hose (her first pair) will match the black shoes decorated with rosettes as well. And as much as I miss yesterday, I'm thrilled to see the young woman she's turning into.
I still have a little girl; one who likes to play Monopoly and decorate the christmas tree and hang out to watch The Grinch. But I also have one that cleans up well and is a marvelous, magical mix of child and young adult. And as worried and anxious as I get, I am enthralled by this ever-changing person in my house.
I'm sure you are with yours, too.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Three Gifts
I think it's probably clear from my last post that my family is Christian. To be more specific, we are United Methodists and tend to be more progressive in our beliefs. I say this not as a persuasive argument but more of a disclaimer regarding my beliefs about the Christmas holiday.
Before I had children, Christmas was a great, self-indulgent holiday. I really didn't see it that way at the time, but indeed, that's what I practiced. I did the things that made me feel good--Christmas activities and festivities that made me happy. Every once in awhile I'd throw something in for the poor and the needy, but that was because it made ME feel good. It wasn't until I received my own Christmas baby that I began to understand Christmas in an entirely new way.
She arrived on Christmas Eve. A tousled mess, she had been awarded to us by the court two months prior but had been living with a relative until we had enough space to provide her with a good home. I remember looking at her sleeping face that first Christmas and being overwhelmed with love and good fortune. This little child was ours to care for and to raise, at least for now. Then the fear struck. This little child was ours to care for and to raise, at least for now.
Perhaps because of our children's precarious situation, they have always been treated to a ridiculous overabundance of Christmas gifts by relatives. Our children truly want for nothing during the holidays. There has always been an element of this that has bothered me, but I was unsure of what to do about it. I wanted my children to feel loved and to have the connections between their biological family. I understood the need relatives felt to shower them with gifts. But as a parent, there were many times that I felt like shouting, "Please! Put an end to this madness!"
As I've grown as a mother, and become more aware of my own values of faith, I have often been reminded of the gifts for the Christ child. Three rich gifts from the Wise Men--gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Three gifts that represented all the child was and would be. But what of the gifts of others? The worship, the song, the glory? The blessedness of His birth? And as I watched my children rip open papers and discard gifts nearly as quickly, I realized we have lost our purpose here.
I can't regulate the gifts that are given by others, nor do I feel that is my role, other than to exercise reasonable safety and developmental limits. But I certainly can regulate the gifts from myself and my husband. And after watching my preschoolers inundated with hundreds of dollars of stuff, I realized that the most valuable things they could receive from me would never come in a box.
And thus I hit upon our trifecta. My children needed the following three things from me every Christmas: they needed my time; they needed my spiritual guiadance, and they needed a tangible gift that represented the spirit of the season. Thus my guide to gift giving each season was born.
Gift number one involves time together. This is both during the season and ongoing throughout the year. We do things as simple as watching "A Charlie Brown Christmas" to going to see Christmas Lights. This year, due in part to a fantastic pay-as-you-go plan, my kids will be receiving season passes to a local theme park. More family time for us and as they grow older, that's incredibly valuable to me. But there have been plenty of years that our family time has consisted of lying in the grass watching the stars, driving down to the lake to see the sunset, or taking the dog for a walk.
Gift number two: spiritual guidance. Why do we celebrate Christmas? What was the purpose of Jesus? Why do we believe in God? The questions have gotten harder as the children have gotten older, and have recently included giving one child the freedom to declare himself atheist (even though he goes to church). But more than just spiritual guidance, this gift includes day to day discussions in morality and ethics and the challenges of life. Christmas offers a wonderful time to talk about Christ's entering the world as a person, but it also offers the opportunity to talk about how Christmas spirit can last the whole year round.
And finally, gift number three: materialistic presents. Yes, we give gifts. Our budget, like many, is tight this year. But we will choose one reasonably priced gift for each child as well as some smaller priced items. We will share lists with grandparents and loved ones, and our children will have more than they need. And they will be thrilled on Christmas day.
One of the things I learned a few years ago, using this approach, was that my children were very satisfied with fewer gifts, knowing that they were going to be spending more "fun time" with the adults in their lives. I came to understand that if I was attuned to what was important to them, then fewer gifts were quite often more than enough.
Christmas is an opportunity to remind us of our love and gratitude, and to share those qualities with the people in our lives. It's also an opportunity to teach our children that love and gratitude and the spirit of giving can last throughout the year.
Before I had children, Christmas was a great, self-indulgent holiday. I really didn't see it that way at the time, but indeed, that's what I practiced. I did the things that made me feel good--Christmas activities and festivities that made me happy. Every once in awhile I'd throw something in for the poor and the needy, but that was because it made ME feel good. It wasn't until I received my own Christmas baby that I began to understand Christmas in an entirely new way.
She arrived on Christmas Eve. A tousled mess, she had been awarded to us by the court two months prior but had been living with a relative until we had enough space to provide her with a good home. I remember looking at her sleeping face that first Christmas and being overwhelmed with love and good fortune. This little child was ours to care for and to raise, at least for now. Then the fear struck. This little child was ours to care for and to raise, at least for now.
Perhaps because of our children's precarious situation, they have always been treated to a ridiculous overabundance of Christmas gifts by relatives. Our children truly want for nothing during the holidays. There has always been an element of this that has bothered me, but I was unsure of what to do about it. I wanted my children to feel loved and to have the connections between their biological family. I understood the need relatives felt to shower them with gifts. But as a parent, there were many times that I felt like shouting, "Please! Put an end to this madness!"
As I've grown as a mother, and become more aware of my own values of faith, I have often been reminded of the gifts for the Christ child. Three rich gifts from the Wise Men--gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Three gifts that represented all the child was and would be. But what of the gifts of others? The worship, the song, the glory? The blessedness of His birth? And as I watched my children rip open papers and discard gifts nearly as quickly, I realized we have lost our purpose here.
I can't regulate the gifts that are given by others, nor do I feel that is my role, other than to exercise reasonable safety and developmental limits. But I certainly can regulate the gifts from myself and my husband. And after watching my preschoolers inundated with hundreds of dollars of stuff, I realized that the most valuable things they could receive from me would never come in a box.
And thus I hit upon our trifecta. My children needed the following three things from me every Christmas: they needed my time; they needed my spiritual guiadance, and they needed a tangible gift that represented the spirit of the season. Thus my guide to gift giving each season was born.
Gift number one involves time together. This is both during the season and ongoing throughout the year. We do things as simple as watching "A Charlie Brown Christmas" to going to see Christmas Lights. This year, due in part to a fantastic pay-as-you-go plan, my kids will be receiving season passes to a local theme park. More family time for us and as they grow older, that's incredibly valuable to me. But there have been plenty of years that our family time has consisted of lying in the grass watching the stars, driving down to the lake to see the sunset, or taking the dog for a walk.
Gift number two: spiritual guidance. Why do we celebrate Christmas? What was the purpose of Jesus? Why do we believe in God? The questions have gotten harder as the children have gotten older, and have recently included giving one child the freedom to declare himself atheist (even though he goes to church). But more than just spiritual guidance, this gift includes day to day discussions in morality and ethics and the challenges of life. Christmas offers a wonderful time to talk about Christ's entering the world as a person, but it also offers the opportunity to talk about how Christmas spirit can last the whole year round.
And finally, gift number three: materialistic presents. Yes, we give gifts. Our budget, like many, is tight this year. But we will choose one reasonably priced gift for each child as well as some smaller priced items. We will share lists with grandparents and loved ones, and our children will have more than they need. And they will be thrilled on Christmas day.
One of the things I learned a few years ago, using this approach, was that my children were very satisfied with fewer gifts, knowing that they were going to be spending more "fun time" with the adults in their lives. I came to understand that if I was attuned to what was important to them, then fewer gifts were quite often more than enough.
Christmas is an opportunity to remind us of our love and gratitude, and to share those qualities with the people in our lives. It's also an opportunity to teach our children that love and gratitude and the spirit of giving can last throughout the year.
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