Category Archives: Attributes
Fake Resting and Real Tired
I’m currently reading Present Over Perfect by Shauna Niequist. It’s a terrific read for women and especially moms. Tired moms.
One part really stood out to me, about what she calls “fake resting”.
Women are good at fake resting. Again, moms especially. We tend to be responsible moms and tired moms.
On weekends or evenings or even during vacations, the moms are the ones who will be tidying up the house, preparing the meals, cleaning up afterward, finishing up that last load of laundry, or making plans for tomorrow.
It’s like this little graph below, of what “I’m going to bed” means for the wife as opposed to the husband:
I laugh at the above list, but I also nod in agreement. It’s so true! And it makes for a tired mom.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve said something like, “I’m really tired; I’m going to bed early” and invariably end up in bed long after my husband because there’s always “one last thing” to do.
Here’s what Shauna Niequist writes about it:
This is what I call fake-resting. I’m wearing pajamas. The kids are watching cartoons, snuggling under blankets, eating waffles. Aaron [Shauna’s husband] is reading or sleeping. It looks like I’m resting, too. But I’m not. I’m ticking down an endless list, sometimes written, always mental, getting things back into their right spots, changing the laundry, wiping down the countertops.
Some might say this is being a mother, or a homemaker, or this is what women have been doing for generations: tending to the home stuff while men and children go about their leisure. Maybe so, but this woman and mom is exhausted. And tired of being exhausted.
So I fake-rested on Saturday, and then again on Sunday. The kids and Aaron napped. They played with Legos and went to bed early. They watched movies and ate leftover pumpkin pie. And I caught up on emails and ordered Christmas presents and cleaned out a closet and started packing for an upcoming trip.
I fake-rested instead of real-rested, and then I found that I was real-tired. It feels ludicrous to be a grown woman, a mother, still learning how to rest. But here I am, baby stepping to learn something kids know intuitively.
Part of being an adult is taking responsibility for resting your body and your soul. And part of being an adult is learning how to meet your own needs, because when it comes down to it, with a few exceptions, no one else is going to do it for you. …
We … want to be seen as flexible, tough, roll-with-anything kinds of women. And this ends up keeping us from asking for what we need, for fear of being labeled difficult or diva-ish. But what good is it doing to me to have people think I’m laid back and flexible … when really that cherished reputation keeps me tangled up, needs unmet, voice silenced?
Shauna Niequist, Present Over Perfect
Thankfully(?), I have a husband who’s a bit of an over-achiever. What I mean by this is, at least I don’t need to be resentful of him sleeping or reading while I’m working … he’s working, too.
It’s Saturday, and with us both being self-employed, weekends are the times to catch up on all the things.
Sometimes it’s good for at least one of the partners to be good at real-resting, to encourage the other one to slow down a bit.
We’re both good at fake-resting … or, not resting at all.
But Shauna’s point is one I need to keep in mind: “Part of being an adult is taking responsibility for resting your body and your soul.”
Is this something you also struggle with?
Are you a tired mom or are you taking responsibility for resting your body and soul?
We tired moms are good at taking responsibility for all the other things. The laundry and the lunches, the meals and the dishes, the schedules and the drop-offs.
But maybe we need to adjust our priorities if those long lists of ours never have “rest” in the middle or at the end.
Maybe we tired moms need to do some real-resting instead of fake-resting so we won’t end up perpetually real-tired and unable to connect with the deep parts of ourselves or connect more deeply with others from the best parts of ourselves.
9 Quotes by Madeleine L’Engle on Children
Happy (almost) New Year!
In this little space of time between Christmas and New Year, it’s a terrific time for thinking and pondering, for planning and reflection …
And for spending time with children and family.
As a parent, when I think and reflect, my thoughts often turn to my children (who are growing up all too quickly).
This short video is a little bit from my heart about parenting, as well as a short reading from a book by Madeleine L’Engle on preparing our children for the future …
… with the gift of laughter.
Hope you enjoy it!
These quotes about children are from A Circle of Quiet by Madeleine L’Engle.
Like it or not, we either add to the darkness of indifference and out-and-out evil which surround us or we light a candle to see by. We can surely no longer pretend that our children are growing up into a peaceful, secure, and civilized world. We’ve come to the point where it’s irresponsible to try to protect them from the irrational world they will have to live in when they grow up. The children themselves haven’t yet isolated themselves by selfishness and indifference; they do not fall easily into the error of despair; they are considerably braver than most grownups. Our responsibility to them is not to pretend that if we don’t look, evil will go away, but to give them weapons against it.
***
But where, after we have made the great decision to leave the security of childhood and move on into the vastness of maturity, does anybody ever feel completely at home?
***
The best way to guide children without coercion is to be ourselves.
***
No wonder our youth is confused and in pain; they long for God, for the transcendent, and they are offered, far too often, either piosity or sociology, neither of which meets their needs, and they are introduced to churches which have become buildings that are a safe place to go to escape the awful demands of God.
***
I can’t think of one great human being in the arts, or in history generally, who conformed, who succeeded, as educational experts tell us children must succeed, with his peer group…If a child in their classrooms does not succeed with his peer group, then it would seem to many that both child and teacher have failed. Have they? If we ever, God forbid, manage to make each child succeed with his peer group, we will produce a race of bland and faceless nonentities, and all poetry and mystery will vanish from the face of the earth.
***
The creative impulse can be killed, but it cannot be taught…What a teacher can do…in working with children, is to give the flame enough oxygen so that it can burn. As far as I’m concerned, this providing of oxygen is one of the noblest of all vocations.
***
An I Q cannot measure artistic ability. A potential Picasso may be a flop at objective vocabulary or number tests. An I Q does not measure a capacity for love…How do we teach a child – our own, or those in a classroom to have compassion: to allow people to be different; to understand that like is not equal; to experiment; to laugh: to love.
***
We are lost unless we can recover compassion, without which we will never understand charity. We must find, once more, community, a sense of family, of belonging to each other.
***
We must not take from our children—or ourselves—the truth that is in the world of the imagination.
***
***
Thanks for reading!
Which of these quotes was your favorite? (Or do you have another favorite quote by Madeleine L’Engle on children and parenting?)
Feel free to follow me on Medium to read more posts on a variety of topics.
If you’re interested in a Medium membership, you would be helping to support me as a writer when you use the referral link.
You can also check out my Ko-fi profile and request a commission or choose a membership level for exclusive content.
Thanks again for stopping by!
Homeschooling Tips My Children Have Taught Me
My three children had missed homeschooling for a week due to sickness.
Allen got an upset tummy from something he had eaten; he was just recovering when a fever came around, putting him back in bed for the next few days.
My other two got fevers as well, and homeschooling took a nosedive for the next several days.
Over the weekend, their health was picking up, and by the start of the new week, I thought we could start out slowly with some homeschooling, just to get back in the groove.
We started out very slowly.
Usually, school time begins around 10:00 am for them; today it was noon before we opened the school books.
I tried to keep in mind that it had been over a week since their last lesson and might take a bit of time before a couple young kids would “get into it” again.
Still, it was difficult to keep from becoming frustrated, as Allen spent most of the morning either staring off into space or crying at absolutely-nothing-in-particular.
His behavior was quite a departure from my usually happy little boy.
Jessica, on the other hand, had decided that she needed to do the whole last week’s worth of school in one day because she had been sick.
She spent so much time insisting on it that she was accomplishing absolutely nothing.
I assured her that we could go at her pace today.
Needless to say, it was not the most productive school day we had experienced.
As a homeschooling mother, it isn’t always easy to find the right balance between school and life.
There are some inspired and wonderful teachers and parents who turn every moment in life into an educational experience for a child, without the child even realizing that they are “learning”.
Life is just one great experience after another and the parent manifests that in every moment of the day. They just make learning fun, exciting, and unforgettable experiences on a daily basis.
It is great when a parent, especially a homeschooling one, can make education fun for children.
Especially when they are young, children need more excitement, interaction, and inspiration … and less sit-down book work.
The thing is, I’ve always been a more “textbook” type of person and naturally take this approach with my homeschooling.
Although I have adapted various ideas and tips to try to make learning fun, it’s easier for me to explain a lesson on paper than to pull out a variety of ingredients for an impromptu science lesson.
On good days, I tell myself it takes all kinds, and as long as I am dedicated and manifest patience and love, my children will learn that which is most important.
On bad days, I fear that my children will end up with a lopsided education and rue the fact that their mother ever thought she could homeschool her kids.
Most days are a mixture of good and bad.
Here are a few homeschooling tips I’ve picked up along the way
Start each homeschool day with something special.
For young kids, this homeschool tip doesn’t have to be hard.
You can keep it simple.
- Show them a bug you found in the garden that morning
- Play a funny song from YouTube
- Try drawing a sketch of the child for a few laughs
- Even better, let them try to draw your portrait
Have a reward system.
The rewards can be as simple as a sticker chart which, once filled, can be exchanged for a treat – a snack or an extra video.
Offering a reward of some kind, for things like …
- good behavior
- positive attitude
- completing something in school
… gives your student something to look forward to.
Be consistent and fair with the reward system and children will look forward to it.
Allow spontaneity in your homeschooling.
You do have goals and requirements, but at the same time, a dull and uninspired child will work slowly and perform poorly.
If you notice they are slowing down or lacking inspiration, break it up!
- Introduce a new idea
- Take a break outside
- Teach a live class
- Do something to bring new vision into their day
The idea of this homeschooling tip is simply to let yourself have fun as their parent as well as their teacher.
Give yourself the space you need.
I think this is the most important of the homeschooling tips I’ve learned, personally.
Do whatever it is you need to be the best homeschooling teacher for your kids.
Yes, you can strive to be inspired and happy, but on some days you might need to sit them in front of a video or have them quietly read books so you can have a bit of me-time.
Every day can be a wonderful learning experience, but you don’t have to feel like you need to perform, as my mom would put it, a song and a dance on a daily basis to keep your kids learning.
I’m beginning to learn to also follow my kids’ lead. They need guidelines and schedules, yes, but just like us big people, sometimes they need a longer break or even a day off.
Kids are often the best teachers we have, and their exuberance and wonder can rub off on anyone, of any age.
Pretty fair trade, I’d say.
Note: this blog post was originally written in 2011; updated in January 2021.
Image Boy Reading a Book — by © S. Seckinger/zefa/Corbis
Gathering Days
Off they go gathering days in their pockets like so many found items, dandelion wands and stones that make magic, fallen leaves from trees and shells that could be from another world altogether.
But now it’s days that blend into each other like magic that can’t be undone … and as you kiss your son goodbye one morning you find that he is almost as tall as you, and your daughter has begun to borrow your clothes, and the youngest (who has always asked so many questions) now asks ones you have no answer for.
As they head out the door for another school day you want to tell them everything they will ever need to know (if only you knew it), so you kiss them back (and for the one not so much into affection, you simply say “I love you” and “Have a good day”) as you watch them head out to gather another day, hoping they will tuck it as tightly into their pockets as you do.
An Outside Glimpse
My four-year-old son had been going through a whiny phase. I found it difficult to hear his words clearly, and frequently told him (probably less-than-patiently) that I could not understand a word he was saying unless he spoke more clearly. Without the high-pitch accompaniment of whines. After my reactions, he usually just stopped trying to say whatever he had been saying. So I would feel bad for shutting him down, and he probably felt worse for not being able to express whatever he wanted to say.
My mom was driving, and I sat in the passenger seat. The three kids all sat in the back seat. My son was talking aloud to himself, which he rarely does. He was going on and on in a very impassioned manner so I tuned in to hear what he might be saying.
“No one understands me!” He was exclaiming to himself, building up a whole case in his little sing-song voice. I tried to reassure him that as long as he spoke clearly, he would be understood. I left it at that, although his self-talk continued.
That weekend, my sister came for a visit with her teenage son. I entered the living room that evening and heard my son telling a story to his aunt and cousin. They were sitting captivated as he narrated the entire tale of how we traveled from India (a couple of months before), including details on the airplane ride, the things he saw, ate, experienced.
After he completed his tale, I told him it was time to get ready for bed. He turned to go, but then added a final line to his narrative: “I need to go now and that’s about all the information I have.”
My sister was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. My nephew commented, “He knows words I didn’t learn until sixth grade!”
The next day, my four-year-old told his plane traveling story to someone else, who also looked extremely impressed. He added a few details, cut out some other parts and had to double back when he forgot something, beginning the story once more from that point on. He breathlessly reached the end of the story with, “And that’s the end of my story of how we came from Bangalore to America.”
Another successful tale. Another impressed listener. My son was happy once more. And I stood in wonder at that outside glimpse. Seeing my child through someone else’s eyes. His amazing vocabulary. His gift of storytelling.
Often, without even realizing it, we put our children in a box, labeled neatly with our perceptions and our assumptions. My son: the whiny one. My son: the strong-willed one. My daughter: the complainer. The boss. The sensitive one. The spoiled one.
Sometimes we put ourselves in those boxes too. But when we’re in boxes and they’re in boxes, we can’t easily reach out and connect. Maybe it takes an outside glimpse. Maybe it takes an intentional stepping out from those labeled boxes. Perhaps a recognition of who they are and who we are beyond those labels. To help us see just how special and unique each one of us truly are.
The Greatest Teachers
I consider myself a decent teacher. From the time I was a teenager, I had tutored younger students. I tutored the children of friends and acquaintances before I became a mom.
And once my daughter was born, I began planning ways to teach her. I sat and watched “Your Baby Can Read” videos with her from the time she was a few months old. I created giant word cards and flashed them at her long before she had learned to talk. I bought a set of math dots and used those. I put up pictures of colors along with that color word right in front of her bouncer-seat: green grass and grapes and trees and a mug and a sweater.
When my sons came along, they got the same input (along with the extra input that an older sibling or two provides). I loved to make the most of teachable moments, a gift my mother instinctively had and a skill I tried to build.
I considered myself a decent teacher.
Then Allen, at three years old, climbed onto my lap one morning. “I love you,” he told me, and before I could answer, he went on to say, “And I love Daddy and I love Aiden and I love Jessica…” He continued until he had named pretty much every person he knew or could remember at the time.
And I realized there is more to teach than words and numbers and facts. And my son was teaching me this.
A few days later was Aiden’s first birthday. That evening, Allen began giving a multitude of kisses and cuddles to my husband. Aiden, who was fully focused on his birthday gift, placed it down and crawled up to daddy. He copied his brother’s behavior and started giving his daddy “kisses.”
Love. Forgiveness. Time. How often do I withhold those? Give them only to those who I feel deserve it? When three-year-olds (and one-year-olds) naturally spill over with contagious love. Perhaps a reason Jesus said we should be like children—not only to enter the Kingdom one day, but to find a place of joy, peace, spontaneity, and love today.
I still consider myself a decent teacher. But I’m also a student. And sometimes my children teach me far more than I teach them.
Excuse Me for Breathing
I don’t know if there is anyone who doesn’t smile at the sight of baby. Fresh and new, unblemished, ready to begin life on earth. We smile at the innocence, the beauty, the miracle.
I think I began my life as a mother in a similar way. Innocent, hopeful, full of wonder and excitement. Of course, trepidation was a common feeling too. “How am I going to manage this ‘mom’ thing?”
As my children grow, I see their experiences molding and shaping them year by year. I take note of their minds and hearts working as they learn to make decisions for themselves. I try to give them helpful counsel as they learn to react to and interact with others. All too often, I wish I could protect them from hurt and difficulty, from the scars I know life will bring. Brought on by those same things I have faced and sometimes continue to face, even as a “grown up”.
Sometimes I even wish I could protect my children from myself. From the fears I haven’t faced, the hurts I haven’t quite gotten over, the skewed perspectives I have. I think how nice it would be if I could do the “mom thing” from that same unblemished, perfect state babies seem to have when they enter the world.
Sometimes it takes years to realize something I encountered long ago still affects me … and my interactions with my children. The way I relate and respond to them. Not long ago, I felt hurt by a friend’s attitude toward my kids, and didn’t know why. Then I realized why it affected me the way it did. Years ago I had been hurt by the words of another “friend” who was vocally opposed to my second pregnancy and let me know in no uncertain terms that she felt me and my children were only a burden. The hurt I felt by her remarks remained in a place so deep I didn’t consciously realize it was there.
But it was. I became one of those parents constantly hovering over my children, hushing them if they became too loud, telling them not to disturb this person, and not to bother that person. Yes, it is good to help children grow in awareness of others and to understand there is a good and a not-so-good time to ask for things, but my hovering was borne of fear that I would again face—or worse, that my children would face—someone letting them know they are a burden, an unwanted load.
I was often preoccupied with making sure my children were “good” and “quiet” so they wouldn’t become an issue for someone else. But I don’t want to make the mistake of raising children in fear or negativity. Enough negative and harmful things face my children simply because we live in a broken world. My duty as a mother is to provide a haven of security, peace, and helpful boundaries. Not to exude an “excuse me for breathing” mentality.
Most of all, I bear the responsibility and privilege of showing them unconditional love. Children are a gift. To us, their parents. To the world. They don’t need a reason or an excuse. Each child is a treasure with the potential to change the world for the better.
Seeing each day through the eyes of a child can help me remember every day is a chance to start over.
Writing in the Midst of Parenting
There is an element of writing about parenting, in the midst of parenting, that is extremely difficult. Impossible, sometimes. At least for me. You have to take a step back. In order to write something, you need perspective. But then, at the same time, writing (at least for me) is what often brings perspective. Out of the sludge of words and thoughts and conflicting emotions, something rises to the foreground of the mind and is, in itself, some sort of answer. Or at least it is the right question. Or a step in that direction.
I took a sabbatical from writing in this blog for about a year. In 2014. I couldn’t write about parenting. I felt engulfed in the very thing I was writing about. How can I give perspective if I feel I have none? What’s the purpose? But it always comes back. Not the obligation to write, but the desire to do so. My very own therapeutic process, for all the world to see. Okay, not exactly. There is more of a purpose for this blog, I would hope.
To connect with parents who, like me, are often in the thick of parenting and feel they can’t step back enough to get perspective. It happens to us all. We all need some outside help at times.
Like today, when I was teaching at my kids’ school in the morning. They were playing at recess and one of the younger girls came up to the table where I sat. She was near tears, saying that Aiden looked angry at her and didn’t want to play with her. Aiden is my son. He’s nearly seven. I wanted to get to the bottom of the issue, so waved him over.
He was upset. He said that he didn’t want to play with kindergarten students because they always want to play their game and even if they play what he wants to play, they change it to make it their game. I understood where he was coming from, the youngest in our family, often expected to join in what the older two are playing. He’s the “older” kid on the playground, at least compared to the kindergarten students; shouldn’t he be able to control the game? I understood, but I didn’t agree.
I explained to him that it wasn’t nice to make someone feel that you didn’t want to play with them. I didn’t delve into the deeper issues that might have been going on in his head. I simply asked him to let his friend know he wasn’t mad at her.
He didn’t. And his face grew angrier. I didn’t know what to do.
His main teacher was sitting at the table, and she called him over. She shared a story about having to choose anger or forgiveness in a personal situation she had faced. I think he got it. Whether he took it to heart or not, I appreciate her effort. Stepping in and trying to help my son understand, not only the effects of behavior, but the importance of choosing to have a happy heart.
It’s not that everything was solved that instant. Another issue rose later that day at school, and I heard about it when the kids got home. My husband and I talked with Aiden together. We prayed with him.
We don’t have the answers to every situation that arises. Sometimes we feel a little stuck in the middle of things, when all we can do is pray and trust God to work in the hearts and lives of our children.
But in all of it, we are blessed to have friends and teachers and family who care about our kids, who want to see them grow up to make a positive difference in the world, who tell them that God has a plan for their lives. Because it’s so true, and who knows? Maybe hearing that one story, or listening to that one song, or sermon, will be that thing they remember years later. The things that reminds them, and helps them believe they have a unique purpose. That they can change the world. That God loves them no matter where they go or what they choose in life.
Writing in the midst of parenting is something like parenting in the midst of parenting. You don’t really have much of a choice. You take it one day at a time. And you’re grateful that you’re not alone.
The Best A Parent Can Do (School Begins)
School begins in less than a week for my children. For many school districts, it is already in full swing, having begun on the 17th, or even the 10th, of August.
Many parents, mothers especially, are thrilled about school starting up again. I have seen numerous posts with humorous photos and quotes about the fact that kids will be heading back to school. They will be looked after for the greater part of the weekdays. They will be educated. They won’t be around to say, “I’m bored.”
But I have mixed feelings about the start of the 2015-2016 school year. Last school year was a challenge for each of my children. As I mentioned in an article for the CAA Newsletter earlier this summer, my two older children brought schoolwork home nearly every afternoon. And they didn’t always finish it.
It was my youngest son’s first year at school, which held its own set of challenges. I spent a few hours at their school on most days, so my son began to expect having me around. When I had to leave each day to attend my own classes, he grew very emotional. A couple of times, he had emotional meltdowns. Once he ran out into the parking lot to say goodbye, when I was still inside the school and had no idea he had gone outside.
Although the summer has been filled with my work-from-home editing projects, it has been wonderful to have the kids at home. Nearby. It’s been fun to read in the evenings (Lord of the Rings with my ten-year-old; the Little House series with my eight-year-old). We’ve enjoyed baking projects, party planning, and camping. We got a puppy and figured out how to house-train her. The summer has flown past.
On the same day my kids start school, I start classes as well. I’ve registered for 20 units, and will also be helping out at the kids’ school part-time, not counting my freelance editing work. Needless to say, our days will grow a lot more packed. Maybe that’s what contributes to my mixed feelings about the upcoming school year. Will I be able to juggle everything and still make time for those things every parent should be able to fit in? Like reading with the kids or taking day trips on the weekend? Will the days be consumed with homework … mine and theirs? Will I grow short-tempered and sharp because my mind is on a myriad of tasks?
Those are some of my concerns, but I know all parents have their unique set of concerns and questions. Kids starting new schools, or leaving home for the first time. Will they make friends? Will they do well in school? Will they have kind teachers?
In spite of the questions, the best we can do is pray. For this school year, yes. For their workload and friendships, for their education and growth.
And also for the future. That each thing they learn, each difficulty they confront, each challenge they face, will be part of what grows them into caring, loving, well-balanced adults. Those who, most of all, love God, love others. Those who know how much they are loved and cherished by us parents, who hardly know how to express it. And by God, who expressed it best in the love of His own Son.
Positive Parenting Blog 