Traveling with your children usually means a road trip with one to twelve kids crammed into your car.

I keep seeing vans on the highway with movies playing in the back seat on those little portable DVD players.  I’m all for movies, our family loves them. It just feels wrong to me to be wasting all that enforced togetherness!

On the other hand, it does cut down on the shrieking. Whether your kids fight or play there will be shrieking. (When I’m right, I’m right.)

When I was a kid we sang songs in the car: Yankee Doodle Dandy, You Are My Sunshine, and my Dad’s favorite:

When You Wore a Tulip

When You Wore a Tulip,

A big yellow tulip

And I wore a big red rose,

When you caressed me,

‘Twas then heaven blessed me,

What a blessing no one knows.

You made life cheery,

When you called me Dearie,

‘Twas down where the blue grass grows.

Your lips were sweeter than julep,

When you wore a tulip,

And I wore a big red rose.

Then, of course, there were games.  We played 20 Questions and What Does My Little Eye Spy?  My dad and brothers were the main competitors in the Name That Car contests.  Whoever could correctly name the make and model of the car coming toward you first got the point.  I was lousy at the game, but I’m sure it contributed to my lifelong love of ogling automobiles.

My favorite game was Finish the Story.  One person would start a story, stop at a random spot and the next person would take up the narrative.  Sister Susie was the queen of story finishing.  Her plots were unexpected and the details had us all laughing.

Is there anything more wonderful than laughing out loud with your loved ones?  Sure, you might laugh at a movie.  But there’s something much more intimate about laughing at a spontaneous joke.  It’s a way of admiring the joke teller and feeling a little proud they belong to you.

What does your family do on long car trips? Leave a comment and let us know.

Photo courtesy of Andrew Currie via Flickr

©Marilyn Woodard 2008

Her mother had not spoken to her in two weeks. When she finally called, it was to find out what Haley knew about a shocking story: a family in their hometown had a daughter under house arrest. Mom wanted to know how that came to be.

What Haley knew had been told her in confidence.
So she replied, “I really don’t think that’s any of our business.”

Without another word, her mother hung up.

She just wanted to use Haley to add grist to the rumor mill.

What does this have to do with you and parenting your own children?

Ask yourself:

Would I rather gossip with my friends than have a relationship with my daughter?

Would I rather impress outsiders with my perfect house than share intimate moments with my children?

When they leave the nest, will my children WANT to come back to see me?

I am begging you, Parents, focus on your spouse and your children.
Take time to show interest in what they do, what they love, what they need.
If possible, do what they do. Do what they love. Do what they need.

Stop building a house.

Build your home.

Blessings on you,
Marilyn

Photo: mesec od papira @ Flickr

“Please give me praise for partial success.

Reward me for self-improvement,

not just for perfection.”

Author Unknown

My husband and I have this ongoing battle – well, it’s more of a tiff – over the sponge in the kitchen sink.  See, that’s the problem.  The sponge is in the sink.

I don’t have a problem with the sponge being in the sink.  That’s where you use it, right?  But my Darling operates at the expense of several deficits:

• his brain is hard wired for details
• he comes from a perfectionist gene pool
• his mother was a nurse
• and then he just had to take that college course in microbiology

When I see the sponge in the sink I think, “Oh good, there’s the sponge.”

When Darling see the sponge in the sink he thinks, “ Fungi! Disease!  Plague!”

So, I try to wring out the sponge and set it on the counter.  I do try.  But, you see, I am not the one with the Fear of Bacteria.  I don’t see this as a matter of life and death.  So, I really don’t actively think about the sponge on a regular basis.  Hence, Darling does tend to find it in the sink from time to time.

But here’s the thing:

He thinks he finds it in the sink all the time.  This is not true.  However, as fallible beings will, he tends to notice the sponge only when he is annoyed.  When the sponge is in the “correct” spot, he is not annoyed therefore, he does not see it.

You know, I’m a big girl with a fairly positive self-image, so I can handle Darling’s annoyance.

But, how would that be if I were six…

…and trying to please my Daddy, and he never noticed when I did what he wanted me to?

Awful.  That’s how it would be: awful.  I really need my Mom and Dad to think I’m wonderful when I’m six, or six months, or sixteen.

Mom, Dad:

Stop and think about how much better I’m doing now than I was a year ago.  Tell me you’ve noticed.  Tell me you appreciate my efforts.

Hug me and smile,

tickle me and laugh,

celebrate my successes.

Please.

If children live with ridicule,
they learn to be shy.

If children live with encouragement,
they learn confidence.

Do you remember this poem about parenting?

It rings true because we’ve all experienced at least a part of what the author describes.

I was about 8-9 years old. My aunt was visiting from out of town.  Mom and Aunt Judy were in the kitchen doing motherly things. I don’t remember why I had a jar of mayonnaise in my hand. I do remember that I dropped it and it smashed in a gooey-glassy mess .

My mother spat, “Just get out of the kitchen.”

Aunt Judy said, “She’s old enough to clean up her own mess.”

Mom replied disgustedly, “No she’s not.”

I slunk away, humiliated.

Fast forward 14 or 15 years: incident with mayo is completely forgotten. I’m bustling around in my own kitchen and I drop a full carton of eggs.

Gooey-crunchy mess.

I become lividly angry.

Darling Husband, wanting to spare me, comes in and offers to clean it up.

I shout, “No. I’m old enough to clean up my own mess!”

All the power of that humiliation was still there, just waiting for an incident to remind me that I was clumsy, powerless and don’t deserve to be with the grownups.

Why am I telling you this?

Two reasons:

1.  Watch your words.

Never underestimate your power to build up or tear down your child’s confidence, trust, sense of worth and desire to be around you.  All it takes are a few ill-chosen words.

“No wonder I never take you anywhere.”

“Can’t you do anything without whining?”

“What is the matter with you?”

2.  Leave your parents’ words behind.

When you do dredge up those hurtful memories, do not wallow in the pain,. Do not feel sorry for yourself or blame your parents for their mistakes. Instead, re-think the situation.  You are no longer a child, so you can see the matter in a new light.

I can look back at the mayo incident and say,

1. Mom was probably tired and stressed from having company (who knows how long that visit was?)
2. Mom did not have the benefit of hearing Dr. Dobson, Dr. Laura, Dr. Phil, etc.  All she had to go on was the parenting she received.
3. Most of all, she did not tell the truth. I was capable, I was a good kid, I was worthy.

Now, when those old feelings come up, I can say, “Nope. That wasn’t true then and it isn’t true now. I am capable, and worthy. “

I move on in confidence.

You can too.

Blessings on you!

Marilyn

I recently came across a site by the same name as a “family magazine.” There was a nice little design article about children’s rooms and bookcases. It showed four or five different kid’s rooms and the featured furniture. The lovely photos were paired with the usual sprightly comments about the accessories shown and where you could buy them. So far, so good, right?

Is it just me, or does $4,000 seem a tad high for a chair in a child’s room? Perhaps I’m too fussy, because it did look stunning next to the mid-century-look bookcase (a mere $560.) Still, I have to wonder about the bone china lamp.

Not $4,000

It kind of makes you wonder: what kind of families is this family magazine trying to reach? Tori Spelling was on the cover. Maybe that should have been a clue. I don’t know.

Do rich kids not have pillow fights or turn cartwheels in their rooms? Or, is a broken designer lamp (a) disposable and (b) something the maid cleans up?

Perhaps my favorite you-gotta-be-kidding item was a $2,000 Tulu rug. Turns out a Tulu is a natural fiber shag carpet made in India by native tribal people (whom, I’m betting aren’t getting any $2K a pop for them.)

These you can wash!

I once had a remnant of 70’s shag carpet in my kids’ room. I can tell you from experience that when your toddler and four year old both start spewing flu-related fluids, your shag carpet will definitely be a disposable item. Surely, even Tori Spelling would think twice before putting a $2,000 version in a child’s room. Don’t you think?

Or, maybe it’s just me.

© Marilyn Woodard 2009