Presenting my Children

Today in Mass, Father Terry's homily was poignant. He said, in short, that parents worry about their children.  They worry when they're young, and they worry when they're grown.  And it's never been more true.  I'm going through a challenging time.  My strength and my patience and my grace is being tried.  I'm like everyone, and I forget to give my challenges to God.  I get caught up in my sorrow and my anger and sometimes it consumes me.  But then, once in awhile, God speaks to me.  Today, Father said that when we come to church, we present our children to God.  It hit me in the heart.  So I did. I presented my children, and my family to God.  I asked him to bless us and to heal us and restore us.  I feel comforted.  Ye who are weary, come home.

Vacation

Me and the captain are such a good team.  I think that a lot.  We balance each other out.  I'm kind of a pushover; he's a little too strict.  He's kind of private; I am...not.  He's my yin to my yang, and I'm grateful.  But here's what we're really good at.  Seriously, awesomely simpatico:  packing for vacation.

I'm good at the week-before prep. I make lists and pack clothes, and swimming stuff, and beach gear.  I organize meals, and pack the right seasonings and tin foil, and baggies.  I make sure the laundry is clean and put together.  But I swear, he picks up everything I leave off.  All electronics.  Nightlights. Fans.  My pillow.  All the last minute stuff.  And he can pack that car like a boss.

We had such a great vacation this year.  Dreamy, really.  Here's what I did:

Watched my kids swim.
Watched my baby splash in her baby pool.
Eat lots of food, including locally-made summer sausage and my own homemade guacamole
Read three books:
The Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini (five stars!)
Bad Monkeys (highly recommended by my cousin Chris on his blog The Gamer Cave) (four stars -- it got a little sci-fi for me in the second half!)
Insurgent by Veronica Roth (still reading)
these were amazing summer vacation books.  happy sigh.
Spent quality time with my husband
Spent a little time working; sold a house remotely!
Floated on the lake
Slept in
Took 200 photos.

I wish I could do it all over again.  It was pure perfection, even the vicious mosquitoes and deerflies.  Perfect Up North vacation.  Can't wait for next year!

My Village: Lindsay

When Jack was a baby I found a laminated note in my mailbox, bright with different color markers.  It read:

Need a babysitter?

Hi!  My name is Lindsay!  I'm almost 13 years old.

I've been babysitting for three years.

I love kids.

I'm free whenever, so please give me a call.

AND...I'm VERY responsible!  

XOXO

Jack was only a few months old, so I tucked it in my cupboard and thought I'd call her when he was just a little older because she was so young.

The next spring, we were garage saling in the neighborhood.  I stopped at a sale, and did some shopping with Jack on my hip.  A young girl comes out of the garage and says, "Ooooh.  That baby is so cute!  Can I hold him?"  I tossed him over to her and said, "Sure!  Do you babysit?"  And she responded, "Yes...my name is Lindsay."

I swear if that wasn't just one of the most important days of my parenting life.

Lindsay began watching my kids when Jack was one, so five years ago.  She's one of those rare gems who isn't only good with kids, but genuinely loves them.  She's social, and kind, and thoughtful, and super responsible. She always shows up when she says she's going to, and my kids adore her.  Kids are very good judges of character, and they get positively giddy when she's coming to watch them.

She hasn't had an easy few years.  Her mom was sick, and she passed away two years ago.  Lindsay took excellent care of her mom when her health was failing, and really stepped up to the plate during her care at the end of her life.  It was more than anyone could expect of a sixteen year-old, but that's how she is, and I'm wasn't one bit surprised when she performed as an adult, mature beyond her years.

She missed her mom, and she had a hard time finding her footing after her mom passed away.  I'm so damn proud of the adversities she's overcome.  She's an absolute inspiration to me.  This week, she graduates high school and will be going on to live the next chapter of her life.  I have no doubt that whatever she decides to tackle, she'll do it, and she'll do it well.  Whoever she touches will be blessed with her presence and I can't wait to see what adventures lie ahead for her.

A lot of seniors put on their cap and gown and can feel proud of their accomplishment, as they well should.  But Lindsay, she's worked extra hard to earn it and I'm sure her momma is smiling down from Heaven with pride.

I am thankful that she's been part of my family these past five years. I know that she'll still be here for me and my kids for awhile, but her journey will take her further away from our family, and we'll have to find a replacement for her.  That will be difficult.  She's one of a kind, and I don't take for granted the gift we've had in her.

So I'll end by saying to you, dear girl, that I am so proud of you.  I'm thankful for you letting me into your life and letting us all be part of it.  I'm so thankful that when life was hard, you made good choices and you leaned on people who wanted to help and found good, positive people who encouraged you to stay the course.  We learn the most from the hard stuff; embrace struggle and know that you'll come out on the other side of it better, stronger, and wiser.  You are a treasure and I love you!

Oh, brother.

Matthew and Cole have had an interesting relationship.  Historically, I've always felt like Matthew was annoying to Cole. I feel like they fought a lot.  I have often said to Cole, "You are eight years older than him," or "He's four. You're twelve," or whatever the age they were when they were fighting.  But suddenly, it's not like that.

Cole has started talking about his future.  His current plans include leaving us after high school.  Like, really leaving.  And we'll encourage him to chase his dreams, and be all that he can be (ahem. subtle hint.).  Whatever he decides.  But then, tonight, I had this realization:  His leaving is going to crush Matthew.  It is going to be very, very hard for him.

They have become such good friends.  If you walk into my house at any given time, you might see Cole doing arm curls with Matthew in his arms (he calls it his Home Gym).  You will see them wrestling (and the baby freaking out because she hates rough play).  You will see them on the trampoline.  And however you find them, you will find Matthew in fits of hysterics.  He's a stoic kid, primarily.  But he thinks his big brother is HILARIOUS.

I was thinking of it through Matthew's eyes.  You're eight years old.  Your big brother is 16, has muscles, sometimes has girls over, and he burps super loud.  He comes up with ridiculous nicknames for you, and regularly calls you "sweetheart," and refers to you and your little brother as "ladies."  "Good night, ladies," he'll say to them, "Sleep well!"  You just might have a love affair with your ever-teasing big brother.  

I guess this realization, while difficult, might be preparing me too.  I know how fast the next two years will go.  I know the changes we'll go through during them.  I know that we have to start preparing for the bird to leave the nest.  Change is inevitable.  It's exciting.  It's hard.  Pulling deep into this mother's heart to remember that they'll be brothers first, and brothers forever.

16

I've been telling Cole that I'm going to send a singing telegram to school for his 16th birthday.  And if they won't let me do that, I'll just make an announcement over the intercom:  "Happy Birthday Cole!  We love you SO MUCH and are so proud of the young man you are becoming!".  He told me that if I did that, he'd run away.  Or kill me.  But today, when I asked him if he enjoyed the telegram (that I didn't send) he told me that he was nervous all day, and he said he actually wouldn't have been that mad.  He wouldn't be that mad!  So, next year, he's getting a very special singing visitor at school.  With no warning.  Because that is what I took from the conversation.

It'd be pretty hard for me to describe how amazing my kid is and how much I love him.  I've known Cole for eleven years now.  I doubt he remembers a time when I wasn't part of his life, and if he does, he probably hates that part.  Okay, that was a pretty risky assumption, and probably isn't true, but you know what I'm saying.  When I met him, and he was five, I couldn't imagine this part of life.  I didn't know what kind of relationship we'd have.  I couldn't have imagined that a decade could transform a relationship from a stepson and a stepmom into one that transcended all odds and became something so completely remarkable.  He's not my flesh and blood, but he's my heart.  I am so proud to be his mom, and thankful to all the people who allowed and encouraged me to be here for him and let him be a whole part of my life.  No stepparent could wish for better than I have it now.

That shirt?  It's called a bro-tank. 

 Don't call it bro-stupid; he won't appreciate that.

One thing I've learned about life is that nothing is perfect.  Life is messy, and parenting is no exception.  Parenting your first child is particularly difficult, because you're doing everything for the first time.  I'm sure Cole would agree that I've not done everything well.  I don't always know what to do, or what to say, and I second guess myself.  But here's something else I've learned:  You gotta talk to your kid.  Talk about everything, even (especially!) the hard stuff.  If you come up with a good communication system, the rest will fall into place.  I think talking is one of the things we do best.  

And this kid, he talks to me.  He flaps on about nothing, and he asks me questions about everything.  He asks for advice, and he sometimes even takes it.  I am most grateful for that gift, even when it's noisy and chaotic.  My deepest prayer is that we can continue to communicate his whole life.  Please keep talking to me, G.

This week, he got his first job, celebrated his sixteenth birthday (today!), he gets confirmed tomorrow, and takes his driver's test Friday.  It's a big week.  It's a big life.  It's the beginning of what will be a remarkable adult life for him, and I cannot wait to walk with him the rest of the way to adulthood.  I cannot wait to see what he does as a man in this world and what kind of choices he makes.  He's going to be amazing and I am so so proud to have played a part in what he is becoming.

This blog post would probably embarrass him, but not as much as a stranger singing Happy Birthday in his lunchroom at school (I think.  Stay tuned for next year's birthday blog entry).  So I'm going to publish it at the end of a really amazing birthday, in the midst of a really amazing life.  Today, I'm celebrating the things that are easy about parenting -- not the least of which is loving my son.  Happy Birthday, Cole!

Getting it Done

It's not that having four kids is super special or that's it's a ridiculous number of children.  My mom raised eleven for crying out loud.  But here's the thing.  I have a teenager, two school-aged children, and a baby.  Three very types of parenting up in here, and it makes my head spin some days.

The teenager is a breeze logistically.  If I never made him another meal he wouldn't starve to death.  If I didn't do his laundry, he'd find clean clothes to wear.  He could virtually survive on his own if he had to.  But here's the thing:  I'm not done teaching him.  It would be really easy to give him the least amount of attention because of said independence.  But there is a lot of stuff to pay attention to now:  girls.  schoolwork.  college options.  girls.  getting to know his friends.  teaching him lifeskills.  re-teaching him lifeskills.  girls.  I mean, a lot of stuff.  And I cannot tune out right now.  I never want to look back and wish I had said more, wish I had been more involved.  I feel like I have about an arms-reach of talking left to do and he has about a finger-pinch of listening left.  Gonna try to squeeze it in.

Look.  One has his arm around her. The other is holding her hand. Smitten.

Then I have those two adorable school-aged rugrats.  They're easy, man.  I can still put them on my lap and fix most of their problems.  I can reassure them, and they trust me.  They still think I'm right about pretty much everything.  They love to snuggle with me and watch a movie or read books.  I monitor their homework, and make sure they're learning and volunteer at the school when I can.  We go to the library and the pool and they're pretty stinking happy and secure.

And then I have a baby.  And GOOD LORD.  I am thankful for that baby.  She brings more joy here than anything in a long time.  But, if I'm being honest, she's a lot of work.  She's at that stage where she's not mobile but she needs a lot of stimulation, so I'm kind of moving her around all day.  Jumperoo, sit and play, Bumbo, tummy time, feedings, nap, feedings, Jumperoo.  You get the picture.  And she's a super awesome nighttime sleeper (12 - 14 hours most nights) but she's not a great napper -- probably two - three hours a day, so there's not a ton of downtime.

Add in working, managing the household, and all that entails, and trying to find a quiet moment for myself once in awhile...yeah.  That plate is full, dude.  Full of really really great stuff, but full nonetheless.

I'm no supermom.  I'm no different than millions of other moms the world over.  And I have the support of the kindest, most loving man on earth who is the best papa to his kids.  And somehow, it all gets done.  Every night I have this moment where I think, "Huh.  I got it done today."  And I will tomorrow, too.

Marble Jar

At the beginning of this school year, I had a couple glaring parenting flaws.  One, my expectations for my kids were too low, and secondly, that I nag too much.  The second was probably a consequence of the first, and I decided that I still had time to fix it.  I'll sound like almost every parent when I say that sometimes, it's just easier to do household tasks myself.  But its an actual parenting goal of mine to raise men who don't depend on women to take care of them.  I want them to be able to pick up after themselves, and clean, and cook and be self-sufficient. 

When I look at my siblings' families, I realize that our generation is pretty cool.  Moms aren't the only caretakers, and dads aren't the only providers.  Cory and I have a pretty traditional relationship, and there are maternal roles that I carry well, and Cory has many strengths as a dad.  But we're really a team.  Where I am a pushover, he is strict.  Where I am weak, he is strong, and vice versa.  But he supports me as a woman, and a human being, and not just as a wife and mother.  And I support him as an individual, with dreams and hobbies, even if I don't share all of them.  I find that one of the strongest components of our relationship.  My hope for my kids is that they don't expect their wives/husbands to take care of only the traditional roles, but the roles for which their skills and personalities are best suited.  Therefore, in this house, the boys will learn all household skills, as will the little girl. 

I was finding that I wasn't keeping that goal in focus.  It was easier to put away their laundry, and pick up their toys, and cook and do the dishes, and when I would ask them to pitch it, it was met with whining and fussing.  And I'd get frustrated, and found myself nagging them.  WHICH I HATE.  So I came up with two separate systems.

I bought a white board, a couple Mason jars, and some decorative rocks (marbles) and implemented my plan. And it has worked pretty well.  WAY better than then non-system I was using.

Each boy has daily activities they don't get rewarded for (well, they don't have to buy groceries or pay rent.  That's a pretty good reward.).  Matthew and Jack have to set/clear the table, and Cole has to do the rest of the dishes after dinner.  They have to make their beds, brush their teeth, put their clothes in their laundry, and put away their own toys/homework/projects.  But on top of that, each day, I put a chore on the whiteboard.  They are fairly easy (20 minutes to complete or less):  clean the livingroom, vacuum, sweep the floor, clean the entryway, put away laundry...etc.  They come home, understand clearly what the expectation is and get on with their day.  The implementation was a lot smoother than I imagined, and I found it startlingly easier to keep up with household chores. Huh.  Who knew?  ;)

The second thing I did was for a specific purpose. I was finding that there was so much negativity flying around in the form of nagging.  In order to keep them on track, I was focusing on the things they had to do and the things that they were doing wrong.  I wanted to actively focus on the positive.  So I started marble jars.  I don't know how many it'll take to fill them (a lot) but when it reaches the top, they get $10.  That's a lot of money for my little rugrats; our version of their allowance.  But it's fairly easy to get marbles.  I give them for all kinds of things, to remind them that they do a lot of things well.  They get them if they give the baby a bottle, or do a chore without being asked.  I've given them for treating each other well.  If Matthew plays a game with his brother.  Or Jack was particularly polite.  One day they were at the table, doing projects and I said, "I'm going to give you each a marble.  Just because I love you so much."  The specific purpose was to interject positivity into our day-to-day lives and I am finding it very successful.  It's hard for them to be patient to fill them up, but they are really enjoying getting them.  The little tink of that marble falling into the jar always makes them smile. 

It's a long road to adulthood.  But I look at Cole and realize that it comes faster than you think it will.  And these lessons, they have to be intertwined with everyday.  Because waiting for a special opportunity to teach them is a risk I'm not willing to take.  Parenting is hard.  It's tiresome.  But if I don't do this job well, nothing else will matter.  This system is working well for their current ages, and I hope I can remember as they get older to tell them how wonderful they are, so they remember that every day of their life.  This is so much bigger than that little marble.

And I won't know the real results of this process for many years, but I'm trying.  And in the meantime, I get to remind my rugrats that they're good, and kind, and special.  That, my friends, is a reward for me.

She loves them...

...and they love her.

Before I had Clara, I knew it was going to be great for the boys to have a sister.  But I could not have guessed how it was going fill my heart to bursting.  How gloriously joyous I would feel watching them with her. 

Every day when Matthew gets home from school, he asks me what Clara and I did that day so he can talk to her about it.  "Oh!  You went to Target, baby?!  Was that fun?"  And when Jack is here with her in the afternoons, I put her in her Bumbo on the table, where he sits and colors or does crafts.  And he talks to her the whole time. "Do you like this color, Clay-a?" and he'll sing to her and talk to her and hold his art projects up for her approval.  And she just sits and watches, content.  I've come to refer to them as "your Matthew" and "your Jack." 

And she never lets them out of her sight.  If they're in the room, she's checking them out.  Sometimes I have to stop Jack and say, "Clara is looking at you; say hi to her."  She looks at them with such adoration, I almost can't take the fullness in my heart.

And her papa.  Good grief, she loves that guy.  Same thing. She adores him.  And he adores her.  Sometimes I will go on search for them, and find them laying on the bed in our room, talking.  Or I'll find her on his lap when he's watching TV or playing video games. 

How lucky is my little girl?  How lucky am I?

When I think back to all the apprehension I felt a year ago when I was first expecting her, I am sorry I wasted a minute worrying.  It reminds me to be patient, and to trust.  Because everything happens for a reason, at exactly the right time.  The love for this baby is absolute proof.  My cup runneth over. 

 

The other night, I laid my head on my pillow with my gorgeous and loving husband next to me.  I thought of my teenager sleeping downstairs, rapidly outgrowing the twin bed he's always slept on.  I imagined my two rugrats sounds asleep on their bunks.  And my sweet baby girl, across the hall, taking sweet little baby breaths all swaddled up and warm.  And I thought that if I had no other possessions in all my world, but these -- this roof over our heads, and this safe place to be together, it would be enough.  Lord, let me always determine my value by these gifts alone.

Thank you, Jesus.

What Matters Most

I used to be single.  I used to be bored, and wonder if I was going to have a family of my own.  And then, suddenly, I woke up and I have all these crazy little loves in my life.  And luck and good fortune and blessings hardly begin to describe it.

Adding a Fourth

Yesterday, when I was talking to a couple different friends, I realized something.  One of them said I'm making parenting four children look easy.  And I don't know if I've portrayed this experience well.  The challenge isn't in parenting each child, but in bringing each component into the whole picture.  The challenge is how differently I have to parent each child.

The rugrats are easy.  They need basic logistical care, but not constant detail.  Homework, feeding, cleaning, clothing, laundry.  Stuff I mostly understand.  And their needs are pretty simple, and the complications easy to solve.

Then I have a teenager.  And he's a good kid, but I'm done with logistics, mostly.  If I never cooked for him again, he wouldn't starve.  He does most of his own laundry.  I have no idea if his room is clean because I've stopped going in there.  Heh.  But I'm not done parenting him yet!  This period is Life Skills. And it's not easy, but it's WAY important.  Does he know how to treat a girl?  Does he know how to use a checkcard?  Can he apply for and maintain a job? Can he safely drive a car?  Is he ready to be on his own in two short years??  It's easy to give him the least attention right now because he can survive without me.  But I am constantly reminding myself how important these next couple years are in skills he'll desperately need when he leaves our nest.

Now throw a newborn in the mix, I double dog dare you.  Everyone knows the attention and time a newborn eats up. 

So am I busy?  YEP.  Am I tired?  Absolutely.  But I'm so doggone happy and feel so fulfilled.  Some days I'm going to chase my tail all day and hope I don't make anything worse.  But most days, I'm going to make a difference.  I'm going to continue to give these kids the tools they need to be successful adults.  And, I hope, I'm going to squeeze in a nap. 

Maternity Leave

I've had myself a few crying jags today.

We've had the captain home for 17 days.  17 great days.  Tomorrow, he starts back at work after "maternity leave."  I'm going to miss him so much.

This guy, he never misses a beat.  Not only does he just step in and do what is necessary around here, but he does it without complaining.  He never makes me feel bad or guilty for all the extra stuff he has to do -- the laundry, cooking, the cleaning, the boys' baths/bedtime/general entertainment.

I feel a little panicky to be without him.  Am I ready to take care of four kids alone?  Will I get to Mass on time and keep everyone together?  Will the lack of sleep make me crazy?  Will I maintain enough patience for the rugrats? 

I know.  Suck it up. Other moms do it.  But I've been spoiled.  And I'm reminded to be thankful for the other (better) half of my team. I love you, Cory.  Couldn't do this without you.  Hurry home.

One Day

One day,

I won't have to yell at them for poking holes in their shirts with a pencil.

I won't have to search half the morning for the bathroom trash can which someone needed to flip over and use for a stepstool in the toy closet.

They won't cut hunks of their own hair off.

I won't step on their toys all damn day.

We won't go through band-aids on fake wounds as fast as we go through milk.

I will sleep as late as I want on the weekends.

I won't "count to three" as often.

I will forget all the words to "Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun."

But that day,

They won't believe in Fairy Dust.

They will be too big to sit on my lap, and they'll have moved beyond Junie B. Jones and Dr. Seuss.

My house will be quiet with their absence, because they will stop believing that they want to marry me, and they'll find some other girl.

So today,

I'll hug them and love them and try to be patient with their deafening noise levels.

I will allow them to play Marching Band and Ninjas and wrestle in the living room.

I'll giggle watching them walk down the street after school as they climb every snowbank and step in every puddle.

I'll cook and I'll clean and I'll teach. I'll hold and I'll comfort and I'll sooth fake owies.

And I'll pray every minute of every day that "one day" takes its sweet time.

Virtual Reality

In 15 days, the teenager has sent and received...wait for it...4,081 text messages.  Holy crap, Cole.  That is an average of 272 per day.  I expect it'll calm down when the novelty wears off a little but WOW.  That's a lot of texting.  (He totally cracked up when I told him, by the way.  I'm guessing we'll add to that number when he texts his friends that information.)

When I posted the phone contract, I had a good friend ask me if I thought I was invading his privacy by reading his text messages.  She said, "would you read his diary?"  I thought about it briefly before I responded that it's not apples to apples.  What the teenager says in public...via text message or facebook is just that: public.  Therefore, it impacts his reputation and it impacts other people.  His diary would be for his eyes only, and wouldn't impact someone else directly.  I do not ever want to say, "I had no idea my kid was..."

I have checked his phone a couple times.  He always hands it over willingly.  He says, "Don't worry.  I told my friends I'm not allowed to swear."  SUPER.  Nice.  Good job, Cole.  It's vanilla. Nothing to worry about.  I don't read for content (trust me, it's almost all nonsense!), but for red flags.  If knowing I'm "peering over his shoulder" makes him think twice about behaving inappropriately, so be it.

When we were teenagers (a hundred years ago), I have no doubt that the boys sat around the fire or in someones bedroom on Friday nights and tried on bad words.  They talked about girls, and practiced swearing.  BUT that was the primary extent of their opportunity.  Those moments.  Now, kids have 24/7 access to each other.  What is the consequence of that?  If they start using that language now, at that frequency, I'm pretty sure it becomes part of their vernacular.  No thank you.

And what's the consequence of having primarily virtual relationships?  Do you learn to communicate well?  Do you learn eye contact?  Do you know how to read body language?  I am worried about these things. Therefore, I will continue to make sure the teenager has real face time with his friends.  I will continue to talk to him about relationships and how to treat women.  In real life (in addition to via text).

It's complicated.  This is the first generation of kids who will have access to their social network at all times.  I do wonder what the result/benefits will be.  I read this article while getting a pedicure tonight, which mirrored a lot of my thoughts.  Take time read it if you're interested.

4,081.  Seriously.

High School

I've only told a few people sporadically, but after a heartwrenching struggle to figure out what's best for him, we have decided that the teenager is going to high school here!  God bless his mother for putting his wishes before her own.  We could not be happier.  And you should be too.  Now I'll be able to share photos of his life in detail.  (Did I mention we're not supposed to tell him about this blog?  :))

Where there's a Will

Holy sweet mother.  That totally sucked.  But we now have legal, notarized last will and testament (and health care directives) for both of us.

We were fortunate enough to have been able to participate in the Wills for Heroes program. The attorney we worked with said that a will is most important for parents of minor children.  Us.  YOU?

But then, you have to think about who would raise your children were you no longer here.  ACK.  Torture!  NO ONE would raise them as well, love them as deeply as I do.  But I'm surrounded with lovely people in my life.  So I say to my executor, "You're going to have to do this for me.  Because what if I choose "Sam and Sally," But they're breeding rottweilers at the time of our death and have no spare room?  What if I choose, "Charlie and Charlene," but they're about to embark on a two-year Safari?  What if I choose Mark and Mary but they suddenly decide they're REPUBLICANS?!  (teehee)"  No one knows these circumstances.  So...beware...you might be on the list.  (Don't worry...they're cute rugrats.)

Then the attorney gives me a list to write down my personal property and who I would like it to go to (who wants the captain's Dodge Stratus?!).  But I realize I have no valuable personal property.  Except my wedding ring.  THAT, my friends, is valuable.  Well, kind of. Sentimentally. 

But then I have to consider it.  I don't have a daughter, so to whom would it go?  The boys?  How about whoever gets married first is welcome to give it to his fiancée. If he doesn't want it, the next to be married can use it, or the third.  If no one wants it, screw 'em. 

Hawt.

When we were engaged, Cory's 1974 Camaro got stolen from his parking garage.  He was devastated.  So sad.  He loved that car.  (I'm exaggerating.  He had actually tried to sell it shortly before it was lifted.)  With the insurance money (LUCKY!), he was able to buy me my ring.  Every year, on our anniversary, I'm obligated to give it a little "vroom, vroom." 

So...Cory suggests the boys sell my ring and buy a retro Camaro.  Say WHAAA?  The only way I'll agree to that is if the boys buy it jointly and use it for weekend car trips...brother time.  I wrote that in the will; don't try to mess with me.

At any rate, don't bury me with it.  That's a waste.

So that's settled.  One day of alternating weeping and planning. 
All for a document I will NEVER NEED. 

Amen.

Phone Contract

There are so many things I have to figure out about parenting a teenager.  Primarily, I have to figure out how to give him enough space to grow, but not enough that he'll do damage. 

We're super lucky, because the teenager didn't ask for a phone until he was 14. But once he decided he wanted one, he did NOT let up. So today, after a month of nagging, I took him to get one. He's thrilled.

He said that all of his friends have phones and they all have internet access on it (say WHAT?!).  So I told him his friends must have really nice, and wealthy parents.  Then I asked if any of them have to pay for their phones.  He said no, most of them are a reward for good grades.  I told him it's too bad he's such a crappy student (he finished eighth grade with a 3.7 GPA).  *sigh*  What to do?  Here's what we came up with.

He signed this before taking possession of his phone:

PHONE CONTRACT

I, The Teenager, understand that the phone I have received does not belong to me, but is on loan from Dad and Leanne.  I can use it for my personal use so long as I follow these rules:

I agree to leave it on top of the fridge when I go to bed (or 11:00 p.m., whichever comes first), and I will retrieve it when I'm up for the day.

I agree that any of my parents can read my text messages at any time.

I agree that if any one of my parents asks me for my phone, I must relinquish it immediately, not after I 'clean it up.'

If any of my parents call or text me, I agree to respond within five minutes, unless I am at school or a participating in a school-related activity. 

I agree that any of my parents can take my phone away for any reason, at any time, as they see fit.

I agree to pay Dad and Leanne $10/month in cash, chores, or babysitting.  If I don't meet that financial requirement, I will forfeit my phone until that amount is met.

I recognize that this phone is for my personal use, but I will not use it inappropriately.  I will not use bad language, hurt another person, use inflammatory or derogatory language, or take inappropriate photos.  If I do these things, I risk losing my phone permanently.

I understand that my parents trust me, and will continue to do so until I give them a reason not to.

Signed by the teenager, July 3, 2011.

I gave a copy to his mom and patted myself on the back.  Nothing like making a contractual agreement with a 14-year-old.  I should have had it notarized.  Let the nagging cease.

Editing to add this link to another mom's post that I love that includes her contract.  For future reference.  :)

HEY!

Did you know this thing had stats?  I had no idea I could see how many pageviews I got per day and where they came from.  Eeks.  My ego does not need that knowledge.  I'm going to forget I know that.

Privacy is for the birds.

I am completely overwhelmed by the number of readers I have.  Man.  You guys must be really bored to read my drivel.  Heh.  No, honestly, I'm flattered.  The thing is, these thoughts are always in my brain.  So to me, they're old, tired opinions.  But I forget that I don't share them out loud very often, so to you it's not old.  And I'm grateful for your audience.

So...the teenager is on Facebook.  And honestly, I want to hide this place from him.  I adore him, and someday, he can know everything I think and feel about parenting him.  But right now, at fourteen years old...please God, no.  Not yet.  Our relationship needs to be strong.  He needs to think that I'm strong and unwavering because that equals security. 

I can never remember my mother being weak.  Ever.  She's told me as an adult that she had her moments. That she thought we'd always remember her laying on the couch because she was always so tired (and often pregnant!).  I don't remember that.  The only times I remember her laying on the couch is when we played "barber shop."  And I LOVE that.  I love that my parents were a portrait of strength and security.  And although they were fallible, I didn't know it.  I want that for Cole, too.

Aaaand, while I'm on the subject, just so you know, I hesistated accepting Cole's friend request.  (Shhh...don't tell him that either).  I teased him for a few weeks about him friending everyone but me, but I didn't really mean it.  I want to be his friend, but I don't want him to be mine.  It's like having your teenager in your living room in the middle of all your adult conversations.  Annoying. 

So, mum's the word.  I'll keep on keeping on and when I post a link from this blog to Facebook, I'll hide it from him.  I thank you, dear readers, for helping keep my secret.

Besides, I'm probably flattering myself.  I'm guessing he thinks I'm old, and boring.  And could give a rip about my thoughts or opinions or my blog.  And if that helps keep him away from here, super.  Although someone should probably let him know how young, and hip I am.  What UP, Johnny?!

Thanks for working through that little dilemma with me!

Can I get a little privacy, please?

My blog is going to go private this weekend.  If you want to continue to read it, please comment here with your email address, or email me at leanne dot peterson at comcast dot net.  I will explain more, once it's private. 

Muchos gracias.  And I miss you!