Monthly Archives: December 2013

Home For The Holidays … Fight

Our daughter, who lives and studies in Seattle, spent thanksgiving with her boyfriend’s family. She reported having a good time, and said that it was “… so quiet and, well, polite!” … as though these things were foreign to her family experience. Hmm. But before you worry about what goes on in our house, what she was hinting at was that she’d become accustomed to the occasional food fight, or end-of-night wrestling match on the floor with her brother, or with her father.

Is this really the point of comparison between the boyfriend’s family and ours? Nothing about politics? Religion? We can’t escape it. Our family has a bit of a history …. Dave’s mother used to say how glad she was when he started bringing Anghelika home for the holidays because it meant that she didn’t have to worry (as much) about being tackled in the kitchen after dinner (tackling still happened). Recent years have seen epic battles with Dave and his sisters on the ground wrestling amongst the cat toys in his parents’ house. So what can we say … it’s a kinesthetic thing. We won’t say we’re surprised the daughter has come to expect some contact sports during the holidays.

Sure enough, this Christmas, the girl provoked her seventeen year old brother (who as an 11-year old, after only a few karate lessons, once took down 180-pound Dave during a little “playful” jostling, surprising himself no less than dad). In no time, she was having the kind of holiday she had been yearning for.

It's all fun and games ...

It’s all fun and games …

... until you remember that you are in art school and your brother is on the wrestling team

… until you remember that you are in art school and your brother is on the wrestling team

Happy holidays!

Happy holidays!

This post first appeared on the Parenting On The Peninsula Blog

Why We Love Co-ops

We love the cooperative preschools we’ve been a part of—from the first, where Dave and 2 year-old Zoe played and learned together, to the schools where Anghelika works today, 18 years later. Co-ops are preschools where parents participate in their child’s education and share in the running of things. While there are greater commitments in co-ops than in drop-off schools, we believe it’s a gift for parents to be able to be a part of this great transition, as kids are just beginning to socialize and take on greater and greater tasks in a progressively more structured setting. The benefits of partnering with trained educators and other parents during this season are huge: as children explore, dig into things that interest them, and work things out technically, socially, physically, in their own way and in their own time, we get to learn about how they learn. Cooperative preschools encourage parents while teaching loads of skills in the context of child-directed, play-based learning while providing a supportive environment for the parenting journey, as kids become more and more independent. Awesome right?

But cooperative preschools in the Bay Area seem to be suffering. They struggle with low enrollment, a shrinking pool of teachers willing to work alongside of parents, and a loss of clout among new moms and dads. Why the loss of clout? Co-ops have a reputation for being a lot of work, and possibly also for being a bit old-school, with their earthy, slow-paced, child-directed environment that appears to favor stay-at-home parents. How could such a thing fit into our modern, double-income, high-pressure, prepare-your-child-for-a-career-in-high-tech-Stanford-here-we-come culture? Of course, your child is headed for great things, and you want them to be prepared. No arguments there. But we’d argue that parents should not distance themselves from their child’s education so early, or so suddenly. The argument isn’t about whether or not we need a better education for our kids to help them compete in a rapidly changing economic culture—it’s merely about the best way to begin.

In an any ideal preschool environment, the guiding principles are drawn from the natural curiosities and passions of the children. Young kids grow at a natural, organic pace, and do not need to be told to be inquisitive, interested explorers. Besides providing a varied and stimulating environment for these natural-born scientists and adventurers, what co-ops do in addition is leverage this transition from home to school by engaging parents for the benefit of all. Parents know their children best, teachers know what’s next in development and how little minds work, and the children … benefit from a gradual hand-off from a life at home to a life in community.

For parents, the benefits to be gained by investing in these early years of school outweigh the work involved at co-ops—which is still considerably less work than being alone with your child at home. Busy parents who choose co-ops will have a slower transition to complete independence, but gain so much more in the form of community support, insights into their child’s development, and opportunities for shared moments that will never be repeated in their parenting careers.

What do you think? What are you arguments for or against parents remaining involved in their kid’s education? How long should that involvement last? When is the best time to leave the education to the pros?

[This post originally appeared on The Parenting on The Peninsula Blog]

Christmas Fail

Dave tells the story of how he once almost ruined Christmas:

Our family loves the holidays. We have always embraced the full experience of this cultural mash-up of a season: cozy-winter-and-sparkly-light-gorgeousness, gift-giving and -getting, and religious re-centering. We have always had, on balance, positive feelings about the season.

But you’d have to be asleep not to see that there is a shady side to it all. At a certain point, our children began to pick up on some of the absurd ironies of the season. It’s a strange moment for a parent when their child calls out the human race because they’ve witnessed crowds of sparkly-peace-on-earth-sweater wearing people trample each other in order to save 40% on a new widescreen TV. Are we proud of our blossoming cynics? Or do we grieve their loss of innocence?

I myself have always been kind of a cynic when it comes to commercialism [“Kind of?” -Anghelika], and for me it was definitely pride. The kids began to realize that happiness was not inside the wrapped presents, that the extreme levels of anticipation around the holiday were near impossible to satisfy, even when their hot little hands finally held The Toy. Post Christmas Crash was becoming a thing. But these realizations did little to reduce the intensity of gift-time on Christmas day. And so, a few years ago, I hatched A Plan. And I thought the family was ready.

It was cooly brilliant. Part of me still thinks it was a master stroke against the spirit of the age, and that it was destined to become a viral phenomenon after I blogged about its inevitable success. It was that good. Except that it almost ruined Christmas.

The Plan hinged on surgically separating Christmas from its evil twin, Xmas. We all know what Christmas is. Christmas is where the whole peace on earth deal comes from—a time to remember the arrival of God in the form of an infant child with a timeless message of peace and reconciliation for all people. Xmas? Xmas put that timeless message on an ugly sweater in sparkly cursive under a soft-sculpture of Rudolf. The time had come to put Xmas in its place.

I proposed the Plan to the family some years back just as the Muzak in the stores was starting to transition to endless loops of Los Vegas Lounge-Gospel. I might as well have used Power Point:

  • X-mas has taken over the holiday. We aim to take it back.
  • No presents on Christmas, only Christ.
  • Christmas morning is for family: nice breakfast, fire in the fireplace, family prayers, walks … Peace On Earth.

Then, in the days after Christmas, we can have X-mas:

  • Hit the malls while the rest of humanity is still sorting and recycling wrapping paper.
  • Everything will be on super sale!
  • Buy each other stuff, see a movie, go out to dinner … Merry X-mas!

The plan had it all: Christmas day without the madness (nobody’s ever been trampled in our living room, but emotions can run high); family excursions during the vacation days after Christmas; a relaxed trip to the stores where we all get to buy something special; and big savings. I felt like a genius. But there was a problem. Nobody else liked the idea.

On the night I proposed the Plan, I was so convinced of its greatness, I was blind to my family’s increasing discomfort. I was like a bargain hunter on black friday: nothing was going to stop me from pulling off my Plan, and if a few traditions need to be trampled on the way to the prize, that would be an acceptable sacrifice. I might as well have been that guy in the news report clawing past less-motivated shoppers, knocking stuffed-flannel reindeer antlers off left and right.

After some extremely tense discussion, there was grudging acceptance. After all, how do you argue with Saving Christmas? I had essentially described a crusade against gifts on the biggest gift-giving day of the year, and backed it up with religious zeal—resistance was futile (or at least suspect). The family had little choice but to try my idea. But Anghelika was sad to have our kids wake up to no gifts on Christmas morning, and the kids, who probably did not know what to make of the whole thing, backed her up when they saw that she was the one who might actually be able to save Christmas. A compromise was agreed upon. We would open stocking gifts on Christmas morning, and implement the Plan for our main gifts. Of course, here in America, our stockings are not small. These are nothing like socks: they are mini burlap sacks decorated by the same people that brought you the sparkly peace-on-earth sweaters. You could say the stockings were the Trojan Horse that let X-mas back into our home on December 25th and spoiled my Plan. But, today I am willing to admit what should have been clear at the start … the Plan was already spoiled.

We followed through with it as best we could. We opened stocking gifts on Christmas morning, followed by a big cooked breakfast, a warm fire, some readings from scripture, and family walks outside in the chill. If everyone was mildly depressed, I chose to see it as a much-needed reduction of emotional intensity. A couple days later, we hit the mall for Xmas, where we found that either the multitudes were getting a head start on next year’s shopping, or that each and every one of them had the exact same idea as me. It was crowded, noisy, and the salespeople were not very happy to be there. The worst part was that it wasn’t much fun just buying things for each other. This was not gift-giving … it was shopping. It was a day at the mall. Merry Xmas.

Where did it all go wrong? The assumption behind my scheme was that family is more important than tradition, and I could change the tradition at will for the good of our family. Sounds reasonable. Except that family is not separate from tradition … the two are intertwined. The removal of one threatens the other. Without family, there can be no tradition, of course. But the opposite is true as well: adding or removing a tradition arbitrarily can harm the bonds of family. Traditions are the expression of generations of family practice. Whether they are the beautiful rituals passed down from our ancestors, or the quirky habits that are only a generation old (jellied cranberry sauce in a can, I’m looking at you), traditions are connections to our past, and do a lot to keep us connected in the present. Traditions are part of family, and should not be trifled with.

I do not love the crass commercialism of the holidays. But I do love me some wonderful people who love giving and getting gifts. So who am I to take away an important part of their holiday because I have a gripe with the world?

The Plan has been retired, buried under a mountain somewhere to make it safe for families to celebrate the holidays again. I won’t be messing around with Christmas anymore. I’ve learned that it’s not my job to critique and do away with the traditions of the past. Maybe now that my head is a little more clear, I can begin to think about what traditions I’d like add for my grandchildren to enjoy, along with their other gifts.

 

This post originally appeared on the Parenting On The Peninsula Blog

Scrimmage

We’ve often observed our kids, who are now 17 and 20, going through seasons of growth and coping, and we’ve used different kinds of language to describe the experience: mood swings, expansion and contraction, equilibrium and disequalibrium. Anghelika describes the way a child can feel stretched and challenged in uncomfortable ways by a world that seems too big, and then soon after can come to a place of feeling more comfortable ‘in their skin’. When children are being challenged and stretched, it can be hard times for families.

We have been through innumerable such cycles with our children. We’ve suffered through the tense times when our child seems to hate everything, wants no help, chooses to be alone. These are terrible times, because, of course, she can’t be alone—she lives with you. And she can’t really go without help, because she’s dependent. And when someone you live with hates everything, that’s kind of a downer, because you’re going to be collateral damage. We found these times really hard, and we celebrated the return to equilibrium. As we learned a bit about how these things worked, we began to ‘tolerate’ the down times because we knew that better times were coming. But what if we were missing an opportunity to celebrate the hard times too?

After twenty years of parenting we can say that family is a lifestyle of challenge and change. Family is not a formula to master, or a parenting book to finish, or some season to get through. It’s life: we change our children and they change us. In our experience, families (our own included) tend to get labeled … as healthy or unhealthy, functional or dysfunctional. But looking back, no family qualifies exclusively for a single prize. Family is not a race where you either win or you don’t. It’s a scrimmage, where every player gets a little better by the end of the day … and gets a few bruises to help them remember the day’s work.

We might have been too quick to wish our way past the bad-mood days. We might have taken them too personally, as a sign of our faulty parenting, or of a child’s rebellion against our ideals. Even when we recognized that it wasn’t about us, we might have looked forward to a child ‘getting over it’ so we could be a “happy family” again. But we are starting to recognize that families are not supposed to be … anything really. They are not validated by the amount of happiness enjoyed by its members, or by any other ideal. They are a place where life happens, and that means whatever we bring to the party, that’s the life we are going to have, and the family that we are. And if we can accept that family is not some ideal that we have to achieve, but is the very mechanism by which we will grow together, then we may embrace the struggles as the way we all, parents and children alike, get better at living this life. To look at it another way, family holds us together when we might otherwise drift apart in trying times: it’s a mechanism of love.

If we could go back and give our younger selves advice, we’d say, for every lesson you think you need to teach your child, there is probably a lesson or two you need to learn yourself, so slow down and don’t be in such a hurry to fix the problem of the day. A child in distress, in rebellion, or in a bad mood, is not an obstacle on your path to a perfect family. On the contrary: this is what families are perfect for. Responding in love and patience when one of us is in danger of falling away.

 

This post originally appeared on the Parenting on the Peninsula Blog