A Motherload of Expectations

Here's what I mean about me and thinking: I can take a perfect little tantrum and turn it into an examination of my mothering style and my children's future as "good people" before a batch of ready mix cookies has time to bake. Really.

After watching Toy Story 3 with my mom and the kids today, we arrived home to corral our little stick of dynamite (Tiana) into her bed for a nap, and John Andrew was eager to show Nana his new go cart. As an aside, his new Razor Go Cart ROCKS...I am biding my time for a chance to ride it when he is not around, actually. But, this afternoon it was very hot and my mom is a very nervous witness to any form of danger that involves my kids. Go carts that go 15 miles per hour are terrifying to her and I could tell she was not in the proper frame of mind to appreciate his spin outs. I delivered the bad news, no go cart today. He'd have to wait for another time to show Nana, but he could go to her office and "work" with Kalina. *They LOVE to pretend to work at my parents real estate office, something my sister Betsey and I cannot quite comprehend since, as children, we counted the minutes until our office time was over!* Being a boy and being almost 7 years old, John Andrew was predictably disappointed. He let me know (he tried to let my shins know with his feet). He let the pillows on the couch know. He let Nana and Kalina know. He threatened to go ride it all by himself. When he went out the back door and opened the garage door, I put my foot down and escorted him inside. Then, I put the go cart in an undisclosed location. He is furious.

Now my mind really kicks in, as follows: I think, oh my, he is so ANGRY! Why? How has this happened? How do I communicate to him that he really is so fortunate and has so many things to appreciate that waiting until Nana is ready to see his go cart expertise in action is not a big deal? What if he never gains perspective? Have we given him too much too soon? I really need to schedule his first confession with Father C. What if he grows up and doesn't learn to have patience? To those whom much is given, much is expected. Should I take the go cart away? Give him a time out? Give him and the go cart a time out? I really want him to enjoy what he has, but I really don't want him to feel like each time he doesn't get his way, he is entitled to spin out of control. Is he out of control? Do other boys do this? What is Kalina thinking watching her big brother acting so mad? Which virtue is greater, forgiveness or obedience?

At this point, my mom is bravely offering to take Kalina and John Andrew to her office and they are headed out the door, Kalina sweetly kissing me good bye and John Andrew still sulking. My head is spinning, my heart is sinking and I am sure I completely missed a teachable moment.

Balloons

I realized the other day, when Tiana, our two year old, was given a balloon by the cashier at our local supermarket, that I have been witness to that hand off for almost seven years now. In the early days, when it was just John Andrew, I remember planning all of our outings so carefully and relishing the exotic locale (so different from the back patio, playground, or Gymboree class) that was Publix. After adding two more kids, I often forget to ask for the balloon for Tiana. Maybe that's why she holds on to hers for days afterwards, W A Y after the helium has left the balloon, tucking it away in her room while our older kids always seemed to set them free before I could even load the groceries into our car!

Seven years, three kids and countless balloons later and I still can't boil down what I do, for myself or anyone else. It's funny, when I was in graduate school, I left the University of Chicago because it was expected that to finish your PhD you would need to spend about seven years there, writing away. Too much time, so much patience...more than I imagined I had in me. Seven years was a third of my life, at that point.

John Andrew, our almost seven year old, has begun referring to his experiences in a time context like this, "I've never seen anything like that in my entire life," or "It's taken me my whole life to get on this train ride." Still, his birthday party looms large on my list of things to do and I certainly am NOT on the brink of earning my doctorate in child-navigation. Heck, I'm still working on my official title. I like "pediatric life coach," "child stylist and cook," "resident comedian and scheduler," and "researcher." The last one is good because someday, I'd like to be a motivational speaker, so my resume could read, "...after many years of research, Ms. Penne-Tringas has developed a proven method..." I'll be available to speak on topics such as, "

Yes, my hands are full, I actually enjoy it...I never hear anyone complain about having a full wallet," "Always take a broom to a BBQ restaurant, and other tips for entertaining a toddler," and of course "The Parenting journey: groceries, balloons and other stops along the way."

Happy Father's Day

I remember Indian Princesses with my dad. Car washes, lunch dates during school days, practicing arguments for the debate team, and how he was always in the audience at dance recitals, witness to the sea of sequins, aqua net and attitude. Any injuries to my ego from backstage antics were best cured by talking to him about history, religion or his own rambling childhood. Today, he camps with my son and husband on Cub Scout adventures and accompanies my girls and they perform elaborate numbers in my parents living room.

Now, I watch Andy as the father of our children and I am doubly thankful for his presence as well as my dad's in their lives. What a blessing to have these wonderful, very different men for our children to learn from and love.

John Andrew made Andy and I parents, began our family. I still remember the rush of love I felt for both my husband and my son in those first few moments. I also remember the anxious, hazy state of my mind those first days...and wondering if Andy felt anywhere near the level of confusion I did! The intensity, fear, wonder, and love that poured out of me had no place to be contained...but Andy was ever steady and patient, he kept coming back, even when my hormones were still "adjusting."

Truly, I could not have imagined a better father for our kids, which is why I was probably so excited about having Kalina and then Tiana. I can't imagine on the days when my last ounce of patience leaves me what I would do without Andy's calm determination. I love how fully he loves our kids; how much he does each day for them, and how at the end of it all, he still has room for me in his heart.

And, since Father's Day seems to be a moderately enjoyable way to honor the fathers in your life, I have marked the occasion *once again* with a fine piece of apparel for all involved. Now, when Betsey (my sister) and I were children, we loved to pick out very festive ties or even suspenders for our dad, who quietly returned them. This has continued. Tomorrow, my boys will be wearing matching ties, and my girls will have coordinating hair bows. This seems like the most appropriate way to honor these outstanding men, although I am fully aware that there will be some amount of wincing as we meet for brunch after church. I love them too much not to let everyone else who happens upon us know that simple fact. Happy Father's Day to the best guys in the whole world! I love you. (Pics to follow)

Mom-ing

For some time now, I have wrestled with the idea of having my own blog. I love the idea of crafting stories from my life as a mom, but I realize there are more "mom blogs" than most honest people can stand to read. Still, here I sit on a not so early summer morning while my kids sleep through their last day of tennis-swim camp. I am thinking about what exactly it takes to raise virtuous kids in today's world. Actually, I'm almost always thinking about something...how to raise patient kids, how to raise kids who are comfortable around dogs (well, *nice* dogs, at least), how to raise vegetable eaters, how to get through Sunday morning without any coffee until after church, how to raise boys, how to raise girls...you get the idea. I am, I have decided after 35 years of living, pensive. Even before the kids came along, I was not unfamiliar with being called intense or analytical.

This morning, I am stuck on the expressions I found upon my two older children when I picked them up from camp yesterday. They looked like a Florida sky right before it rains. So much energy, so still. John Andrew began first, "those two brothers...that's their grandmother over there...you need to talk to her, because her grandsons are very mean...they locked me out of the bathroom and told Kalina she was not a princess..." Then Kalina confirmed," yeah, they said I wasn't Princess Perfect and that they hate me(anyone who knows Kalina would not dispute her claim)." I checked with the camp counselors, and indeed all of this had transpired, and more, as I found out on the ride home. The counselor's replies were the same, "oh, those boys are mean to everyone." "they are even mean to me." "they're just that way."
This confounded me (and apparently my children). When did it become okay to raise mean spirited children? How can it be acceptable for a 7 and 5 year old to behave as if they were the "emperor with no clothes?" I submit that while I am far from a perfect mom, in our house, under my style of mom-ing, nobody is entitled to treat anyone unkindly simply because that is the way you are.

So, John Andrew and Kalina are sleeping in today, blissfully aware that they do not have to go back today, to confront the mean kids. Are they missing an opportunity to develop character? I hardly think so. I believe, instead, that the boys whose parents forgot to teach respect for their peers and elders, are missing an opportunity to learn from mine. My children, sadly, will have to face down more than their share of unkind children (and adults) before they learn to drive a car, but this is summer. We are on vacation. Today we are going to enjoy each other.