Tag: holistic parenting

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Let’s Talk Play Dates!

When you were growing up, where did you play with your friends? At your house? Their house? A park? I didn’t have a lot of friends over to my house. It seemed too stressful on my parents and my constant begging didn’t help my case, so I went to other people’s houses to play. 

Now, I’m a mom. I have 3 kids and I walk this line between it being too stressful (like my parents) and wanting to be the cool house where all the kids play! This isn’t a 50/50 line; I am most definitely more on the play date house side of things. Whether they’re 3 or 8 or 15, I want my kids to know that their friends are welcome here. I want to worry less about how clean the house is, what I’m making for dinner, or whether I was hoping for some peace and quiet. That stuff I can work on internally and I do! But what about the other stuff?

How do you make your house the play date house? The cool kids house? 

What does the cool kids house require? I would assume, it first requires a willing parent, who’s at least a little cool, or at least loving, which I am! Loving, that is. And willing. 

What else? My daughter has come home from a play date with fresh baked cookies, telling me that they baked them together. My head sags and I feel like a defeated Charlie Brown (cue the music). I never bake cookies when the kids have friends over, let alone let them bake cookies by themselves. I may have a bit of a control-freak-possessiveness over my kitchen, er, the kitchen. I can work on that, though! I should mention that they’ve never asked! I thought when the kids had friends over they just went to play. You know, imagination, dolls, games… Do you let your kids cook in the kitchen with their friends? Do you encourage it? Discourage it? 

Technology. Where do you fall on this spectrum? Kindles, iPads, phones, video games, and even movies and TV shows. Are the kids coming to play with that? Or to play with each other? I’m winging it here. When my kids have friends over and they want to do something technological, I set a timer, just like I normally would. If there are technical difficulties, I play on my ignorance and hope they’ll ditch the screen and go play outside. They usually do. On sleepover nights I am all for a movie and some extra screen time, but there’s still a cut-off and there’s still a lights-out. 

It’s boundaries like this that make me wonder (worry) if my kids will prefer other homes to play at because we have rules here that I may bend, but I rarely break. What if everyone is playing a video game that you don’t approve of and you don’t allow in your house? Will your house not be the cool kids house anymore? Will your kids just end up at someone else’s house playing a game (or watching a movie, or visiting a website) you strictly forbade? I don’t know. I do know that boundaries are good, healthy and desired by our children. I watch my kids bump up against the boundaries we set and they bounce back, sometimes frustrated, but in general unfazed by the restriction. 

Boundaries are like a HUG: firm, strong, consistent, and filled with love.

Siblings. Oh, did you see me roll my eyes? What do you do about them? I get that a playdate is a really special event and often requires some privacy. At least, that’s what I tell my oldest when she’s whining about her little sister. I offer up the guest room or another place they can play alone for a little while. I also understand that it’s hard to watch your sister take off with a friend and have a blast laughing and squealing and you’re supposed to just what? Sit on the couch and twiddle your thumbs? I encourage inclusion whenever reasonable. I hope their personalities can all jive and maybe they can play a board game together or run around the backyard together. But I also get the “this is my friend and I want to play with her alone” part of it. Shrug. The 2 year old hasn’t started having any social issues, so I’ll be curious to see how that unfolds. For now, I’ll juggle the two big kids and try to figure it out. What do you do? 

Opposite sex. Remember the guest room I mentioned? My oldest likes to take a friend in there and play ponies or puppies or whatever other imaginary game they’ve invented. I let her have sleepovers in there, too. Since our kids share a room, I know it’s important to have a little space to herself when a friend is over. But my middle child has a boy friend she adores! I try to keep things fair and let them go play, but next thing you know there are pants “falling off” and they’re hiding from me and nope, the door is now open, if not removed from the hinges. Tell me your stories and tell my what works for your family!

Going to other kids’ houses….

Does it make you nervous? It makes me nervous. I have been pretty selective about whose house my kids can go to. Usually parents I’ve met at school and had conversations with. But, as they get older, they may want to play with kids whose parents I don’t know and then what? 

What are realistic expectations when you allow your child to go to someone’s house? Besides keeping your child safe, do you expect the parents to watch them the whole time? Probably not, but therein lies the fear of what could go wrong. Insert family members you’re unaware of, older siblings, and a very different set of boundaries and you have the stuff mommy nightmares are made of. 

And guns. I have to bring it up because one of my friends is so amazing and courageous, in that she asks parents about guns before her child goes over to play. I admit I haven’t asked and I feel disappointed in myself for not doing so. She asks if there’s a gun, if it’s loaded and if it’s locked away. I abhor confrontation, but I understand that these are important questions. Do you ask? 

Trust. Faith. Awareness. Hope. 

n my hope to spark a discussion (and get some advice), I may have inadvertently sparked a bonfire of fear and that wasn’t my intent! I’m learning as a parent, that I cannot stop my children from getting hurt. I can’t stop the world from leaving its mark on them in ways that I may despise. But I can teach them the difference between right and wrong. I can educate them about kindness and the power of choices. 

And then I have to trust. Every day my girls go to school and are influenced far more by their teachers and peers than they are by me and their dad (if you’re looking at hours spent = influence). Every day they come home to us and we try to pry out of them details of not just their education but they’re social interactions and emotional experiences. I have to trust that they hear our words and store them in their hearts. I have to trust that the influences they’re receiving at school are mostly good and that they’ll choose to turn their backs on the negative voices. 

I have to have faith. Whatever your belief system is, it takes a certain degree of faith to watch your child(ren) walk into a building away from you for 8 hours every. single. day. Without faith, I would be beyond a bundle of nerves. My imagination is far too good to let run free in this arena. My girls ask me to pray every morning for their angels and this is what I pray: “God, surround the girls with the angels you’ve assigned to them to protect them. Bring them home to me safely this afternoon.” I don’t know who it comforts more, me or them. But on a cute note, my 2-year old now asks, “Mommy, can you pray?” because he hears his sisters ask me all the time. 

​Even with trust and faith, I have to remain vigilant in my awareness of what’s happening around me, around my children and in the world. Not too vigilant, lest I lock us all up in the name of safety. To remain aware I go to their schools to have lunch with them or help with parties. I talk to their teachers and bus driver regularly. I attend field trips when I’m able. I read every scrap of paper they bring home, even if I forget most of it a second later. Being aware is allowing myself to become a part of the community that my children call home 5 days a week. By being a part of it, I can see who they surround themselves with and make decisions accordingly. 

I can’t end this without mentioning hope. Because even though this started out as a blog post asking for advice on how I can have the cool kids house where all the playdates happen (is it play dates or playdates?), I have opened some doors on some dark and scary places that are inherent to the discussion. So let me a shine a light in those dark places with hope. I have hope that children (mine and yours) are good and will choose goodness. I have hope that love will conquer all and peace will be found despite the battles that rage all around us (hello, Facebook fighters, I’m talking to you). I have hope that kindness will be the tool of choice in my children’s daily lives. And I aspire to be that example for them, so they know what it looks like to offer friendship instead of criticism, to offer help instead of turning their backs, to to offer empathy instead of mockery, and to offer acceptance instead of judgment.

I really want to hear from you! Here or Facebook or Instagram or Pinterest. Share this post and let’s have a conversation! I know I’m not the only mom of elementary-aged kids who have a million questions about playdates! Let’s talk about it together. 

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Don’t Judge the Mom Whose Kid Isn’t Wearing Shoes in Winter

Have you seen kids in the “dead of winter” barefoot? Have you thought to yourself, “How could that mom let her kids be outside in this weather without shoes on?” Okay, maybe you didn’t think it, but some people have. I know, because I’ve heard them think it out loud. I’ve seen their posts on Facebook. I may have even agreed with their rants a time or two.

This post could have been titled: Don’t Judge Moms Who…

Or how about: Don’t Judge Moms

More simplistically: Don’t Judge

I didn’t get that vague because frankly that’s a huge topic that I’m not willing to tackle, so I decided to narrow the subject down to something very specific. This way, if it doesn’t apply to you, you don’t even have to keep reading! And if it does, either because you’re the judger or the judgee, then you can keep reading and hear me out. (please)

See my gorgeous girl? Barefoot? In a Target shopping cart? If I could hazard a guess at the outside temperature, I’d probably say it was 45 degrees. Pretty chilly if you ask me. Shoe weather, I’d say. And I did say. Repeatedly. But when you’ve been trapped in the house for three days with a sick three-year-old and a sick 21-month-old and you’re desperate to get out and do something, anything… well, shoes just don’t seem to matter.

Are you thinking to yourself, “She’s been sick? And she’s not wearing shoes?”

Yes. I hang my head in shame before you. And then I look up and a host of clichés pile themselves at my feet. “Don’t throw stones in glass houses.” “Only if you’re without sin, cast the first stone.” “Judge not, lest ye be judged.”

Firstly, she had fuzzy, warm pink boots on in the car. When we arrived at the store, they were off. Secondly, I put them back on! I really did! It’s entirely possible that she had them on the whole time we were outside, walking into the store. Once we were inside the store though, her mission became the removal of the shoes. And once she’d completed that mission, she had to throw them as far as she could. Between trying not to lose the shoes, giving her snacks and drinks on demand so she wouldn’t be a screaming toddler in a store, which people hate, and keeping an eye on the three-year-old who was touching everything at eye-level and probably wiping her nose on her sleeve, I decided shoeless would work for me. Only then did I think to take this picture. Only then did I realize that judgments were probably being made. In fact, maybe someone in that very store went home to post about my mothering skills on their Facebook page! Or maybe they didn’t even wait that long and they posted from their phone while they stood in the checkout line. Anything’s possible.

This wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. Today, my-three year-old would not put on shoes. And when I finally got her shoes on, she refused her sweater. It was 40 degrees outside. I suppose some parenting guru would say, “You put the shoes and sweater on and you make her wear them.” Yes, I suppose I could. But what would the parenting guru say if I had to take my child into the library wearing the shoes and sweater and force everyone in the library to listen to her screams and moans and wails as she thrashes around on the floor because she’s three and searching for some way to exercise her independence? Probably nothing. We compromised. She wore the shoes and ditched the sweater. It’s a 50 second walk from the car to the library door. I decided she’d survive. But who knows what other people thought as they saw that poor, little girl in the freezing cold without a jacket. Sigh.

Earlier this week, my youngest threw a shoe so far that it could’ve knocked someone out had it hit them in the head. Thankfully, it landed in a pile of potatoes. Not thankfully, we were at Costco, so that pile of potatoes was super-bulk-size and I’m lucky I recovered the shoe at all.

Barefoot babies in winter. A tragedy? A reason to judge? At least an excuse to criticize? Or a realization that some things aren’t in our control. Some things don’t seem worth the battle. Sometimes as moms, we pick and choose our battles so specifically, because we’re trying to avoid the judgment that a miserable, frustrated toddler’s tantrum would bring on us and in doing so, we only attract more judgment. Alas, perhaps it’s a losing battle. In fact, the chances are, the only people reading this blog are the moms whose kids have gone out in the winter without shoes! So the people who actually judge those moms aren’t reading the blog and probably won’t change their ways any time soon.

Ah well, here’s to us moms. Here’s to the moms who choose their battles based on important things like life and death, not battles of will. Here’s to moms who aren’t out to teach their kids whose boss, but to allow them the freedom of brief moments of independence instead of micromanaging their every move. Here’s to moms who have kids with autism, ADHD, ADD, SPD, ODD, or any number of diagnoses that make something as simple as shoes more difficult than most people could fathom. Here’s to the moms who have strong, brilliant children who take stands for these “little things” that feel like really “big things” to them. Here’s to the moms who don’t care what other people think. Here’s to the moms who do.

We’re going to be okay.

And so are our kids.

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Why I Won’t Take All My Kids Toys Away

Have you read this blog about the mom taking all her kids toys away? The first time I read it I thought, “Wow! That’s such a huge move and it seems to have had amazing results!” The more I thought about it, I started watching my kids and wondering if they would benefit, or if we would benefit as a family. I’ve decided nope, they wouldn’t and we wouldn’t. It’s not that we can’t live with less and it’s not that I’m not a fan of minimalism, it’s because I don’t want to do that to them.

So many toys have come from family and friends. When I look around at it all, I do want to clean it up, organize it more, separate things for donations or store for memory’s sake, but I don’t want to give it away. The stuffed deer was my husband’s when he was a little boy. He named it Pan without having any knowledge at the time of the Greek mythological god of shepherds and flocks, nature and hunting. It’s ironic and it’s touching. The My Little Pony was given to my three-year-old on her second birthday by my cousin. One of the baby dolls was given to my second daughter when she was just a new baby and now my older daughter sleeps with it. The other baby was given to my oldest the day her sister was born. Sophie the Giraffe was a teething friend for both girls, given by their grandparents. The dress-up boy doll with snaps and buttons was a gift from my brother and my sister-in-law as he and I remembered fondly our Snoopy that had the snaps and buttons and zippers to teach us those skills. The list goes on and on… I deeply value the love and thought behind every toy our friends and family have bestowed upon our girls and I’m just not going to discard them.

Going along the lines of the blog I mentioned, I have noticed that my kids play more with a clean and open creative space. It’s not the absence of toys, it’s the ability to choose certain ones to play and create with. (It’s really not unlike my desire to bake something when my kitchen counters are spotless.) Today, I cleaned their room, picked everything up and it felt so good in there. Immediately, my three-year-old came in and said, “Wanna play in here with me?” Yes, yes I do. It feels so nice in here… She quickly pulled out a ton of toys, laid out a blanket (handmade for my second child by another cousin) and gathered her toys and stuffed animals to the middle for a sleepover. We rolled around on the floor with Pandora playing in the background. We pretended to sleep and pretended to wake up. We ate grapes and we talked about which toys made us feel the happiest. My youngest (21-months) ran circles around us and giggled. I gently explained to the oldest that the “baby” just doesn’t understand pretend yet and it’s okay if she doesn’t go to sleep.

I get to have these moments and cherish these moments with my girls. I’ll never forget times like that. And I hope they won’t either. All of us together and all their toys piled on top of us. Clutter and all.

Minimalism is the concept that less is more. I love it. As I look around at my cluttered, lived-in home, I know less is more and I want to clear all the clutter. I know that our minds would be at ease if we weren’t staring into the closets and cabinets of plenty, but I haven’t done a lot about that and I’m not going to start with my kids. If, as I pursue a less cluttered home, my kids see and want to change their lives in this way also, then I will support them. That’s my decision for them. I don’t want to take their things away and not let them have a say. I don’t want to push minimalism on them as a way of life without them having a choice. We’re all good moms doing the best we can and without judgment I can say that taking all the toys away is just not for me. And if you do it and I don’t, we can still be friends, right?

My purpose of this blog isn’t to talk about whether it’s right or wrong to take away your kids’ toys. It’s just a way of putting the idea of minimalism out there and the many obstacles that might arise when you pursue it. I have a pile in the garage of things to sell and give away and I’m working towards those adventures as time allows. But minimizing stuff takes time too. Valuable time. Time I could spend having pretend sleepovers with my girls and preparing healthy meals for them. If you have success stories of de-cluttering or minimizing that you’d like to share, I’d love to hear them! What I dread most is another thing (or hundreds of things) on my already full daily to-do list. So, I’m gonna take this slow… like just talking about it here and letting it simmer in the back of my brain.

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Teaching Our Daughters to Love their Bodies 

I’ve been thinking about this for a while. There have been some pictures and quotes floating around Facebook about mothers and daughters and self-love and how women were never told to love their bodies, never heard a woman say, “I love my body” and how they’re pledging to change this with the next generation. Empowering, right? So, I decided to try it. I didn’t know how much it would move me. My story is simple:
Driving to the lake one day in our swimsuits, I looked back at my 2-year old and said, “I love my body. It’s so strong and healthy and it lets me go to the lake and play! Do you love your body?” Her answer was simple and full of confidence, “Yes!”

Later that evening, my husband was giving both girls a bath and I overheard this same 2-year old say very matter-of-factly, “Daddy, I love my body. It’s very strong.” Daddy answered so clearly, “Yes, it is!” I, however, stood in the hallway, hand covering my mouth, tears flooding my eyes, wondering if this will change something in her, break some generational curse on us women, judging and despising ourselves and our bodies. I said to my husband, “Remind me, please, to say these words to them at least once every year of their lives.” He lovingly said to me, “That must have been a very powerful experience for you to say those words to her.” It was.

If I could peer into the future I would look for my daughters to be strong, powerful, beautiful, self-assured, confident women who stand for health and inner-beauty, who know their worth lies in far more than their physical appearances, while also having great love for their physical appearances. And if I could see that, I would know, I have truly made a huge difference in this world. They wouldn’t be wasting time counting calories in and calories out, or carbs, or grams of protein, or points or anything else. They’d be too busy living in their amazing bodies.

You might say, “I can’t tell my daughter I love my body because that would be a lie.” And I would ask, “What would it take for you to love your body?”

And you might answer, “After I lose 10 pounds.” Or, “When I am eating better.” Or, “When I’m a size 4.”

And I would say, lovingly, “If it was physically impossible for you to achieve that goal, and I’m not saying it is, but if it was, could you find things that you love about your body? If you had lived through a trauma or a disease that threatened to take your life, could you just be grateful that your body, the same one that’s not thin enough, not tone enough, your extraordinary body got you through it and was still alive to experience this life you have? Or does size matter more than the air you breathe? Does weight matter more than hugs and kisses and laughter?”

You might say, “I still want to be thinner.”

And I would say, “I know. You may always want that, but if today were your last day, would you want to spend it wanting to look different, or teaching your daughter to not waste her amazing life on the same goals?”

May I challenge you to say the words out loud to your daughter(s) today?

“I love my body.”

Follow it up with whatever is your loving thought about your body and is your truth for today.

“I love my body. It has eyes that let me look at you.”

“I love my body. It carried you and birthed you and provided for you and that is a miracle.”

“I love my body. It is strong and capable of lifting you high in the sky and tickling you.”

“I love my body. It is alive today and that’s one more day I get to spend with you.”

I’m not saying you have to stop wanting your body to look different, although taking the pressure off might literally take the weight off your mind and body. I’m not saying you have to stop exercising or following some diet plan, if that’s what brings you peace.

I’m saying that your body is remarkable. And THAT is beautiful.