Food: The Great Equalizer

I don't get it. How can two bites of food completely change a child?

Kids are at computer camp this week, and they're really enjoying it. It's a long day: drop off at 9:00 and pick up at 5:00. The day is busy, busy, busy. They're playing, working, enjoying campus, filming, and eating. Apparently they do just fine until 4:59.

Then at 5:00 the cloud descends and starts raining toxic waste on my kids. They get in the car and immediately start bickering. They pick each others' words apart, blame each other for non-existent perceived slights, and throw invisible daggers at each other. I look in the rearview mirror and see three small black clouds hovering over their heads. I turn on the audio book, crank it up to drown out the squabbling, and drive home as quickly as safely possible (although at this point a car wreck would almost be a welcomed diversion). 

We make it home, the kids losing their interest in fighting because they were distracted by the story. But once home, we have to turn off the story to make it into the house, and the squawking starts again, in the ten feet from the car to the front door. 

In my mind I'm thinking, these kids haven't eaten in five hours, so their brains aren't functioning properly. Get some food in them so they'll turn into humans again. But one of the problems is that they're so far gone over the crabiness threshold that they can't even think clearly enough to realize they're hungry. They each insist that they're not.

G is throwing things around, sniping at every warm body that enters his personal space (which reaches out to about fifteen feet at this point). S is harping on every word that someone else utters, whether it's intended for her ears or not. T holes up in his room, slamming the door and threatening some unknown offense against the family that "we'll find out about tomorrow morning." Yikes.

By some miracle, I'm able to get two bites of food - not great food, mind you, but food nonetheless - in each of their mouths. (There's a whole long story about homemade milkshakes that involves not enough of one flavor of ice cream for those who want it, coupled with refusal to compromise, that I won't bore you with. But let me just say for the record that I simply don't understand the logic of refusing a white chocolate, raspberry truffle milkshake simply because there wasn't enough intense chocolate for two people. But that's just me.)

Two bites. That's all it takes. By the third bite - or slurp, as the case may be - they're sitting on the couch, draped all over each other, watching a "Bizarre Foods" together (ironic, huh?), yucking it up and thoroughly enjoying each others' company.

I shouldn't be surprised. They've been this way since before they weaned. I guess it's just more noticeable now that they're older, louder, bigger, and more practiced at being obnoxious.

Thank God for ice cream.

______________

If you liked this post, you might like "A Sure-Fire Way to Stop the Bickering"

Photo of ice cream by joyosity from here

Doing vs. Being

A week or so ago I picked up an audiobook at the library because I was in a hurry and it was on their "new arrivals" shelf. Little did I know it was an Oprah pick.

The book is Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth and it was slow going for me at first (partly because I had to get over Tolle's voice - see below). But about halfway through it Tolle started talking about parents' relationships with their children. A lot of what he said struck a chord with me. (I still have at least a third of the book to go.)

He talks about "doing" versus "being." When we're madly doing - while we fulfill the mom role, for instance - we don't really connect with our kids, and frankly, we can never do enough. We're judging, providing, evaluating, doing for, doing without, doing instead of - none of which allows us to get to know who our kids are. I find myself in this state far too much.

If we're only "doing," we feel superior to our children, because (let's be honest) we're bigger, stronger, more experienced, more capable, etcetera. We often are superior in the physical sense. 

However, when we're "being," we're equal - meeting them on a soul level (sorry to sound so new-agey, but I can't think of a better word). More of an emotional level than a thinking level. When we're there ... present ... being alert, or still, or even talking perhaps, we can connect on a much more fundamental level. This is what our kids want and need.

Kids want us - who we are as a human - and our attention. Not some perfect role model, not a maid, not a provider, not a "doer." They want us, with all our flaws, hopes, wants, needs, fears, joys ... and love.

Audio version

Sorry about this, but Tolle's voice kinda reminds me of Dieter, Mike Myers character from the SNL sketch, "Sprockets":

I couldn't resist.

________________

If you liked this post, you might enjoy What We Give Our Kids.

Sunday's Gratitude Post

Appropriate to the holiday weekend, today I'm grateful for freedom - specifically the homeschooling freedom we have here in Texas. Our state is known for its independence. And while it doesn't have the best reputation for lots of things (you can probably come up with a long list here), it does do lots of things right: ZZ Top, Dr. Pepper, the world's largest urban colony of Mexican Free-Tailed Bats, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and the only migratory population of whooping cranes in the country, just to name a few. 

In Texas, homeschoolers have complete freedom. By law, our homeschools are private schools and fall under the same regulations as any other private school in the state (but our tuition is much more affordable). We don't have to register, take standardized tests, answer to any governmental organization, or follow a particular curriculum. We don't even have to conduct classes a specified number of days a year (in actuality, most of us "do school" far more days than traditional schools do).

In other parts of the world, life for homeschoolers is harder. Currently in Europe, homeschoolers rights are being threatened. (I'll post about that further in the future.)

So today, the day after Independence Day, it seems only fitting that I express my gratitude for our freedom to educate our children in the best possible manner we can imagine.

Thanks, Texas!

Photo of Texas bats by dizfunkshinal from here

Saturday Quote for the Day

"Perhaps it would be more appropriate to celebrate July 2 as Independence Day and reserve the Fourth of July to honor the horsefly for its contribution to preserving our nation's most cherished document."

  --Thomas Ayers, That's Not in My American History Book: A Compilation of Little Known Events and Forgotten Heroes

Hooray for the horsefly! 

To read this delightful little discussion of our nation's history and other tasty tidbits, check out That's Not in My American History Book. It's fascinating!

"Sweet Emotion"--My Feelings Exactly

Remember that video I promised way back before my mom was so rude to have heart problems? (Before you gasp, that's a joke.)

Here it is. S sings "Sweet Emotion" - the first song of the summer camp concert line-up. She was thrilled that she got to sing the only cuss word in the whole concert.

The concert was played at Hanover's in Pflugerville, and it's a real bar, with the requisite smoke, stale beer smell, bar flies, and ear-splitting music. 

It was great. Every parent was beaming, whether their kid performed flawlessly, added in extra verses by accident, sung off key or too softly to hear, played the wrong notes, screeched feedback, forgot the words, hammed it up, or played like a true professional. We were all proud, not only for our own kids but for each and every kid on the stage.

These kids came together for two weeks - some beginners, some quite accomplished - and learned 14 songs well enough to perform them. Each kid learned at least 4 songs. For some, this was the first time they performed on stage (G being one of those). For some, this was the first time they sang for an audience (T being one of those). For others, performing is an established feat.

No matter what their experience, their innate talent, their duty to practice, or their level of accomplishment, those kids shined. They had so much fun! And isn't that what it's all about?

If I can get my act together, I'll post more videos of the concert soon, which will have G and T playing as well. 

For more information about the music school or their summer camps, visit Paul Green School of Rock. They have lessons and concerts by their students throughout the year in addition to the summer camps. (We've only done the camps, but we hear the lessons are great too, although expensive.) Their motto is "Saving Rock & Roll one kid at a time!"

"Where the Hell Is Matt?"

For those of you who have had your head stuck in a hole for the past several years, I present ... Matt.

Matt's videos are like brain candy, sunshine for the heart, guaranteed to make you smile or cry or both.

If you haven't ever seen his short videos or heard his stories, his website and FAQs are definitely worth checking out. 

Here's his first video:

Here's the video he made last year. You'll find the Austin stop on this one. I'm still kicking myself for not dragging our lazy butts out of the house to dance with Matt on Town Lake.

He has recently come out with a new book, which I haven't seen but which has gotten good reviews: Where the Hell is Matt?: Dancing Badly Around the World

What You See Isn't Always What You Get

My mother is a difficult blood draw. She has veins that "roll," meaning that most times she gets an IV she ends up getting poked several times. And every time she gets out of the hospital, she's covered in bruises, so black and blue she looks like she was in a bar brawl.

Enter Ed. 

Ed is a medical professional (nurse, nurse's aid, tech? not sure) at the Austin Heart Hospital, and one of his jobs is to draw blood. Ed is the only person that my mom has ever had - and that's saying a lot - who can not only stick her successfully the first time, but also do it so that she can't even feel it. He was, by far, my mom's favorite person to draw blood. Ever.

So what's the big deal?

Ed has (what one nurse told me) Tourette's Syndrome. He jerks and moves violently, constantly. He lunges, stretches, touches, and lurches. When some patients see him approach them with a needle for a blood draw, they refuse to let him near them. Understandable, some might say.

But those people would be missing out. When he's focused, Ed's a master.

Just a reminder ... don't judge too quickly; you may miss something amazing.

What We Give Our Kids

So what's our biggest goal as parents?

Tough question. Obviously, the answer will be different for every parent, but one answer that sticks out for me is to raise my kids so that they don't need me anymore. That's what we're all striving for, isn't it? To raise our kids so that they'll be capable, happy adults?

To that end, here are some of the things I want to give my kids:

--the strength to do the right thing, even when it's hard

--the ability to know what the right thing is

--the stamina to be respectful, contributing members of society

--the courage to pursue that which fulfills them

--enough experience in life to learn what their passions are

--enough knowledge to be able to pursue those passions

--the respect to figure these things out for themselves

--and lastly, (and most importantly?) the ability to think for themselves

There are surely others, which I'm sure I'll think of five minutes after I post this.

You'll notice that there are some glaring omissions from this list, that many of you will be surprised to see, especially since we homeschool.

Here are some things that I'm not overly concerned with (but if they happen, that'll be okay too):

--my kids' being the "best" at something, whether it's winning first place in a national competition or beating their friends in a neighborhood game of soccer (having them be pleased with their performance is good enough for me)

--my kids' entering a career that's financially lucrative (I'd love them to be financially prosperous throughout their lives, but not at the expense of their happiness - I'd rather them be poor and fulfilled than rich and miserable)

--my kids' getting into the "best college" (yes, they'll all go to college and hopefully graduate school, but the more research I do the more I realize that the particular undergrad school has little to do with success throughout life)

--my kids' being formally recognized as academically "gifted," whether through such a program as Duke's Talent Identification Program or as a National Merit Scholar (sure, those would be great, but they're not necessary - who will recognize my youngest child's giftedness in humor, my daughter's giftedness in connecting with young children and elderly adults, or my oldest son's giftedness at memorizing vast amounts of trivia? Do those gifts merit any less admiration?)

--my kids' following the normal path (whatever path is the one that will take them where they want to go ... that's the one they should follow)

--my kids' "fitting in" (I'd rather they be comfortable in their own skin, value their unique characteristics, and laugh every day)

More than anything, I want my children to approach every day with joy, live a life of fulfillment, and have a packed house at their funerals.

image of purple passion by PinkMookse from here, image of "think go live be" by southerntabitha from here

Sunday's Gratitude Post

Tonight I'm grateful for leftovers. Much maligned, rarely appreciated, often discarded ... tonight we ate 'em. We tossed them into a big pot, stirred them together, and called it "soup." 

After running errands this afternoon, I was too late and too tired to manage anything remotely resembling dinner, so my mom and I improvised. 

Ah, how delightful to have enough crap in the fridge to throw together - literally, from across the kitchen - and feed a family of seven (grandparents are still here after recovering from the heart escapade). 

Love and Sadness: A Two-Sided Coin

Hours in a hospital room provide ample time to think. I sit, again, watching my mother sleeping. The sounds of the Heart Hospital softly surround me - monitors chiming, nurses quietly talking, doctors rushing past - and I'm sad.

Not for my mother. She's going to be fine - better than she's been in a long time - because her new pacemaker is functioning beautifully and we no longer have to worry about her heart losing its regular rhythm.

Instead, I'm sad for all those people who never experience the inconvenience of love. There are so many people in the world today who never know the connection of true love, and I think their lives must be thin, like the skin on the top of heated milk, instead of rich cream that floats. From the outside, those lives look similar; but the rich texture of cream, thick and almost chewy, is only superficially similar to the thin, sticky film that covers milk.

Until you experience the connection to siblings who pull together to take care of a parent, or an understanding, compassionate spouse who takes up the slack when your attention is focused elsewhere, or a parent who's scared that he might lose his love of over half a century ... you can't know the depths, the complexity of life.

I have a relative who was never close to his parents (an abusive father and a mother who allowed it), whose first wife died suddenly when his son was an early teen, and who can't understand why his current wife feels compelled to help out her parents when they need help. He gets angry at her that it takes away from her career, her "me time," their "couple time." He simply can't understand why she wants to be needed and why she wants to help. To him, taking care of "number one" is the ultimate goal.

How sad for him, I think, not to have to sacrifice a day of pleasure, not to lie awake occasionally worrying about a loved one, not to choose to give up a relaxing dinner at a trendy restaurant for cold hospital food, and not to give up achieving yet another career goal because an ailing family member simply wants to hold his hand.

Can you have joy without knowing sadness? Can you experience success without failure? Can you know love without heartache? How can you judge the height of a peak unless you experience the depth of a valley?

I just walked past a large group in the waiting room. They were obviously all members of the same family, at least eight people closely collected, waiting for a good word about a loved one. I can bet that each of those people had someplace else they need to be, but here they are, gathered together on a Thursday afternoon. While their faces showed anxiety, worry, and fear, there were other emotions there as well: love, joy at being together, closeness from sharing a common ordeal. Whatever their outcome today, they'll always have that connection, knowing that they all cared enough to come together to share the burden of overcoming an obstacle. They'll have that memory.

A couple of years ago, my aunt passed away, and I decided to go to her funeral. My cousins and my sister and I had been close as kids, but I hadn't seen them in decades. While the funeral was a somber occasion, the meal afterward was a time of joy. We celebrated my aunt's life, we caught up on each others' lives, and we reconnected in a way we hadn't in thirty years. Without that family attachment, I would have missed out on getting to re-know some remarkable people.

Sadness ... love ... two sides of a coin. I'm glad I have a bunch of those in my pocket, and I'm fortunate that most of them land heads up.

___________________

If you liked this post, you might like The Inconvenience of Love

Photo by ICMA Photos from here

A Bit of a Setback

My mom's cardioversion didn't work. They'll give it one more shot tomorrow. Don't know yet what the other options are at this point if that doesn't work. I guess the cardiologist will let us know.

I sometimes wonder what people without families, without children do in times of crisis. Life must be infinitely harder. I'm glad I won't have to find out.

Photo of tree heart by Angi Unruh from here

The Inconvenience of Love

I sit in my mother's room at the Heart Hospital tonight, watching her sleep. Tomorrow morning she'll undergo yet another cardioversion to get her heart pumping regularly, and later she'll discuss with her cardiologist her options: more procedures or a pacemaker?

I'm struck by how inconvenient love is. This attachment we have to our families, whether the families we're born into or the families we birth. 

As I watch my mother sleeping, I think of how my day - and the next few days or week to follow - has been unexpectedly uprooted, subject to change at a moment's notice. How my plans and my family's schedule have been thrown into chaos. I think of how inconvenienced was my mother, who was ready to harvest her large, bountiful garden. I think of my sister from Phoenix, who happened to arrive for a visit just the day before my mother went to the emergency room - how she now will spend her week caring for my dad, carting him back and forth to the hospital - rather than enjoy her time talking, laughing, and enjoying my parents' company in the country. I think of my husband, who must take up the slack at home while I care for my parents.

Yes, inconvenient. 

I look at my mother sleeping.

Inconvenient, yet oh so worthwhile.

Photo of heart-shaped leaf by David Paul Ohmer from here

Sunday's Gratitude Post

A true father ...

A man who

  places his family before all else - his friends, his work, his hobbies

  is always around, and always approachable

  is dependable, who can be counted on no matter what

  considers his children's feelings before his own

  cares about his family, to the extent of sacrifice if need be

  does the right thing not only because it's the right thing but also because he 

      knows he's an example for his kids

  means what he says

  expresses his love in small ways, through the day-to-day routines of life

  is much, much more than words can express. 

To have such a father, a person is lucky. To have two such fathers in her life ... well, that person is extraordinarily blessed. 

My father, a man who has never let me down. My rock, my security through my childhood and well into my adult years.

My father with my sister

My husband, who assumed that weighty job when we married. A father to my children that I wished for in my dreams. For me, my dreams became reality. 

My husband with T

How lucky that I would find a man equal to my father? Was it a good choice based on a good role model? Maybe. Was it some fundamental wisdom on my part? Doubtful. Was it chance, fate, destiny? Who knows? I'm just glad I was so fortunate.

Happy Father's Day to you both.

And thank you.

Saturday Quote for the Day

"And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me.

Shine on 'til tomorrow. Let it be."

    --"Let It Be," The Beatles

One of the songs performed tonight by by my kids. More tomorrow.

A Sure-Fire Way to Stop the Bickering

I've found a sure-fire way to stop my kids from bickering, which seems to happen all too often. I'm a wizard. A magician. A sorceress.

What is this magical recipe for success?

I sing.

Perhaps you're thinking of melodious, soothing lullabies or uplifting songs to diffuse the mood and raise the spirit. 

Uh uh.

I sing loud, off key, bad 70s hits, songs from musicals and old TV shows, and annoying commercials. Really loud. I sing so loud that my kids' ears ring and they beg me to stop. They get so distracted by my disharmonious, braying cacophony that their ears burn, their cochleae melt, and all memory of the previous five minutes is burned from their brains.

Works every time. (Well, almost.)

Photo by braska23 from here

"The Bitter Homeschooler's Wish List"

You've more than likely seen this gem, but just in case you haven't, I wanted to pass it along. I sorely wish I could take credit for writing what has since become a classic, but I can't. It was written by Deborah Markus, the editor, publisher, and mother of Secular Homeschooling magazine. It appeared in the magazine's first issue, the same issue that my "How Do I Get Started Homeschooling?" article appeared. 

Secular Homeschooling is a breath of fresh air to those of us who aren't homeschooling for religious reasons (yes, we do exist!). Thank you, Deborah, for giving "the rest of us" a resource and bringing a smile to homeschoolers' lips everywhere! (And just for the record, this is a humor piece!)

The Bitter Homeschooler's Wish List

by Deborah Markus, from Secular Homeschooling, Issue #1, Fall 2007

1 Please stop asking us if it's legal. If it is — and it is — it's insulting to imply that we're criminals. And if we were criminals, would we admit it?

2 Learn what the words "socialize" and "socialization" mean, and use the one you really mean instead of mixing them up the way you do now. Socializing means hanging out with other people for fun. Socialization means having acquired the skills necessary to do so successfully and pleasantly. If you're talking to me and my kids, that means that we do in fact go outside now and then to visit the other human beings on the planet, and you can safely assume that we've got a decent grasp of both concepts.

3 Quit interrupting my kid at her dance lesson, scout meeting, choir practice, baseball game, art class, field trip, park day, music class, 4H club, or soccer lesson to ask her if as a homeschooler she ever gets to socialize.

4 Don't assume that every homeschooler you meet is homeschooling for the same reasons and in the same way as that one homeschooler you know.

5 If that homeschooler you know is actually someone you saw on TV, either on the news or on a "reality" show, the above goes double.

6 Please stop telling us horror stories about the homeschoolers you know, know of, or think you might know who ruined their lives by homeschooling. You're probably the same little bluebird of happiness whose hobby is running up to pregnant women and inducing premature labor by telling them every ghastly birth story you've ever heard. We all hate you, so please go away.

7 We don't look horrified and start quizzing your kids when we hear they're in public school. Please stop drilling our children like potential oil fields to see if we're doing what you consider an adequate job of homeschooling.

8 Stop assuming all homeschoolers are religious.

9 Stop assuming that if we're religious, we must be homeschooling for religious reasons.

10 We didn't go through all the reading, learning, thinking, weighing of options, experimenting, and worrying that goes into homeschooling just to annoy you. Really. This was a deeply personal decision, tailored to the specifics of our family. Stop taking the bare fact of our being homeschoolers as either an affront or a judgment about your own educational decisions.

11 Please stop questioning my competency and demanding to see my credentials. I didn't have to complete a course in catering to successfully cook dinner for my family; I don't need a degree in teaching to educate my children. If spending at least twelve years in the kind of chew-it-up-and-spit-it-out educational facility we call public school left me with so little information in my memory banks that I can't teach the basics of an elementary education to my nearest and dearest, maybe there's a reason I'm so reluctant to send my child to school.

12 If my kid's only six and you ask me with a straight face how I can possibly teach him what he'd learn in school, please understand that you're calling me an idiot. Don't act shocked if I decide to respond in kind.

13 Stop assuming that because the word "home" is right there in "homeschool," we never leave the house. We're the ones who go to the amusement parks, museums, and zoos in the middle of the week and in the off-season and laugh at you because you have to go on weekends and holidays when it's crowded and icky.

14 Stop assuming that because the word "school" is right there in homeschool, we must sit around at a desk for six or eight hours every day, just like your kid does. Even if we're into the "school" side of education — and many of us prefer a more organic approach — we can burn through a lot of material a lot more efficiently, because we don't have to gear our lessons to the lowest common denominator.

15 Stop asking, "But what about the Prom?" Even if the idea that my kid might not be able to indulge in a night of over-hyped, over-priced revelry was enough to break my heart, plenty of kids who do go to school don't get to go to the Prom. For all you know, I'm one of them. I might still be bitter about it. So go be shallow somewhere else.

16 Don't ask my kid if she wouldn't rather go to school unless you don't mind if I ask your kid if he wouldn't rather stay home and get some sleep now and then.

17 Stop saying, "Oh, I could never homeschool!" Even if you think it's some kind of compliment, it sounds more like you're horrified. One of these days, I won't bother disagreeing with you any more.

18 If you can remember anything from chemistry or calculus class, you're allowed to ask how we'll teach these subjects to our kids. If you can't, thank you for the reassurance that we couldn't possibly do a worse job than your teachers did, and might even do a better one.

19 Stop asking about how hard it must be to be my child's teacher as well as her parent. I don't see much difference between bossing my kid around academically and bossing him around the way I do about everything else.

20 Stop saying that my kid is shy, outgoing, aggressive, anxious, quiet, boisterous, argumentative, pouty, fidgety, chatty, whiny, or loud because he's homeschooled. It's not fair that all the kids who go to school can be as annoying as they want to without being branded as representative of anything but childhood.

21 Quit assuming that my kid must be some kind of prodigy because she's homeschooled.

22 Quit assuming that I must be some kind of prodigy because I homeschool my kids.

23 Quit assuming that I must be some kind of saint because I homeschool my kids.

24 Stop talking about all the great childhood memories my kids won't get because they don't go to school, unless you want me to start asking about all the not-so-great childhood memories you have because you went to school.

25 Here's a thought: If you can't say something nice about homeschooling, shut up!

_________________

If you enjoyed this post, you might like The Mock Day

Photo by base2wave from here

My Heart Is Smiling

Thanks so much to Era of Today's Thought, who presented me with my first-ever, gosh-darn, whadya-know-it, honest-to-goodness blog award! Yippee! Receiving the "Makes My Heart Smile" award is such an honor.

Era is a witty, delightful mom who writes a witty, delightful blog. Definitely check it out. She is a woman worth reading, for she always has great insights.

As she said in this post, one of the best things about getting a blog award is passing it along to someone else. I'm delighted to pass along this award to two blogs instead of one, simply because I couldn't decide between the two.

Hannah, who lives in A Quiet Spot, is a brilliant writer and a compassionate mom. She always makes me smile, that is, unless she makes me cry. She is so together at such a young age, that I'm constantly amazed.

Moxy Jane, who blogs on Spiral Bound, is an amazingly creative, energetic mom who always has a smile on her face. She goes through life with such joy and excitement that she makes me tired (but happy) just being around her.

Both of these extraordinary women walk through life with respect and gratitude. They make my heart smile, and I'm privileged to count them as friends. Their blogs will give you energy, insight, and fodder for thought. Read them if you want to bring light to your day.

Book Review: The First National Bank of Dad

More on allowances ...

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, we really liked the book, The First National Bank of Dad by David Owen. It fits in with my philosophy of giving kids as much responsibility as possible and letting them benefit (or suffer) from the resulting outcome.

Basically, it says to give your kids a decent allowance and let them use it as they wish ... no parent-designated restrictions (within reason, of course). The parents don’t decide how much goes to charity or how much is saved - that’s all the kids’ choice.

The allowance is not tied to chores - those are part of living in a family - but the children can earn extra money through "odd jobs." However, the kids are responsible for buying all extras out of their allowance. For us, that means buying presents for any birthday party they want to attend (which is great because it cuts down on how many birthday parties they want to go to!), getting an ice-cream cone when we’re at a carnival, or buying a souvenir t-shirt.

What about donating to charity and saving, you ask? According to the book, when a child receives an allowance and is told to donate a third to charity and a third to savings, he mentally thinks of his allowance as a third of what he received, not the total amount. Say he receives $6 per week; his brain immediately says that he has $2, not $6. By allowing him to use the whole allowance as he sees fit, he takes ownership of all $6, and may end up giving more and saving more. He may not, but at least he’s seeing that money as his and is taking responsibility for it.

Owen says that the idea is to get kids to donate of their own volition, based on the example set by Mom and Dad. Giving is something you can't force someone to do. You have to model that behavior - that's the only way to make it stick. This has proven to be true for us as well. All of our kids give freely now (sometimes to a fault, LOL).

And the kids learn to save by keeping the money in the bank. That's different from the way I was raised, like lots of you probably, with my parents telling me how much to save and donate. Basically, his theory is that they will learn about money in a more realistic way than having someone else (parents) tell them how to save it and spend it.

Here’s how it works: You set up a dummy account on paper or in a program like Quicken and give the child a starting sum of $25. You then give them a large monthly interest rate to encourage them to save, and they can spend the money in any way they want. The idea is to let the kid figure out that the longer they keep their money in the bank the faster it grows. 

This has worked well for us. S, who was leaning toward being a “spender,” immediately blew through her allowance when we started giving it, and she quickly realized how long it took to make that money back. These days I never have to argue with her at all when it comes to spending money. If she sees something she likes when we're out and she wants to buy it, all I have to do is say, "How much money is in your account?" She's learned that, by leaving the money in her account, it builds up quickly so that she'll have it when she wants something special. She, like the boys, has ended up being quite thrifty.

When one of the kids wants to save up for something, they'll offer to do "odd jobs," which I pay them for: cleaning out cabinets, decluttering the garage, pulling weeds, etc. That way they can buy things that I don’t want to spend money for. For instance, some years ago, S wanted an American Girl doll (which I think is a total rip-off) because her then-best friend had one and got her turned on to it. I told her that there was no way I was buying her one, because we didn’t want to spend that much money on a doll. ($95 for a doll? You’ve GOT to be kidding!) 

If she wanted to spend her money on it, I had absolutely no problem with it. She looked through all the catalogs, priced them online (don’t forget shipping and tax!), and wished and yearned and saved. Then one day we were getting some groceries at Sam’s Club, and she found a doll that looked almost identical to the American Girl dolls (except that S liked the facial expression more) that were only $20! And each doll had two outfits included. The cost savings was incredible. She saw on her own how much she could benefit by waiting, comparing, and rethinking. She was incredibly happy with that purchase, and because she bought it after a considerable delay from “want” to “get,” she cherished it even more. To this day, “Cindy” is well loved, though not played with terribly often anymore.  

This brings me to another thing. When the kids realized that they could spend their money on anything they wanted - and ended up blowing much of it at the beginning - their later purchases became much more valuable to them. Once they had to save and purchase things on their own, they appreciated them more. Even for those "crap" toys, when the kids realized quickly that they'd blown their money, the lesson learned was much more valuable than any lecture I could have given them.

One of the nice things about this system is that I never have to say "no" to something they want. My kids say, "Can I have that?" I say, "How much money is in your account?" It totally takes me out of the equation, and the decision is up to them. If they ask, or if I think it's appropriate, I can tell them if I think it's a good value or not, or I can give them tips on how to get something cheaper. But the final decision is theirs.

The only problem that we’ve encountered with the system is when an older child chooses to save over the years instead of spend. He ends up with a bunch of money! Owen talks about this, but honestly I don’t recall how he said to handle it, since our children were much younger then. What we’ll be doing instead is giving our kids an education in investing and allowing them to save and invest in real ways. That will be the best money education of all.

Photo of $5700 in a circle by AMagill from here

Photo of crumpled money by e-magic from here

APing Older Children: Allowances

Kids and money. Kids and stuff. Gimmee, gimmee, gimmee! 

People talk all the time about American kids and how materialistic they’ve become. Frankly, I haven’t seen this to be nearly so noticeable among the attachment parenting families and homeschooling families that we know. Maybe we’re in a little bubble here in Austin, but I doubt it. Instead, I think that the strategies of attachment parenting and the personality traits of homeschoolers tend to steer their children away from consumerism, rather than toward it, generally speaking. 

Yes, yes, I realize that this is totally unscientific on my part and purely anecdotal, but that’s what I’ve come to believe, right or wrong. (And since this is my blog, I can believe what I want to! haha!)

People get weird when it comes to money, no doubt about it. But if we stick to the “respect” issue regarding allowances, things tend to go smoothly, at least in the long run. What I’m about to say won’t seem like respect at first, but bear with me.

Kids need to learn how to handle money, and it’s easiest - as is many things - to have them learn and fail (and thus experience success later) at an early age. Giving a child an allowance, without designating how much they’ll donate and how much they’ll save, grants them complete control over their personal finances. Obviously they’ll need some guidance along the way, at least early on, to know how much things cost and how to calculate tax, as well as how to compound interest and what constitutes a good sale, for instance. These things all come with time.

Here’s what won’t seem like being respectful of them: letting them lose, squander, or fritter away their money. Like I said, people get weird when it comes to money. While you might not bat an eye if your child tried tackling a difficult physical task, say climbing a rope to a gymnasium ceiling, and got some bruises, and while you might not second-guess yourself if your child had his toy smashed by the car because it was left in the driveway overnight, you might freak out if she wanted to spend $20 on a cheap, plastic, light-up, gaudy, play-with-it-for-a-day, vastly overpriced tiara from the circus. (Do I sound bitter? Nah.) Or if he chose to spend $25 of his $40 (total in his allowance) on a cheap, plastic, light-up, gaudy, play-with-it-for-a-week, vastly overpriced, twirling toy thingy from the same circus. (Bitter? Me? Nah.)

Yes, my kids chose to spend their hard-saved money on those two things, while I inwardly cringed. In fact, I would have caved to my miserly upbringing (thank you, my "Depression-era baby" parents) and forbidden it if not for my incredibly wise husband, who said, “It’s their money.”

He was right. They learned so much more from spending their money - which they’d saved for a long time - on crap than from any lecture I could have given them. Of course, they've had to learn this lesson in a number of different versions, but that's okay. They're getting it now, for real.

Now, when they choose to spend their money, it’s usually wisely done. Granted, they’ll occasionally choose to splurge on something that they know is wasteful, but they do so with their eyes open, knowing full well that they’re making a frivolous choice. (After all, don’t we all do that sometimes? Except for me, of course, my spur-of-the-moment two-tiered silk skirt, library fund-raiser handmade glass earrings, and red trashy super-high heels notwithstanding. Hey, I don’t wear them together!)

When it comes to allowances, I find that what’s worked for our family is to give our kids an allowance, let them use it as they wish, and let them suffer or benefit from the consequences. This is respect: respect for their choices, respect for their intelligence, respect for their wishes ... and respect for the learning process.

One thing that was an unexpected pleasant result from giving my kids control over their own money is that they almost always think of "voting" with their money. They choose greener options when buying and really think about where their money goes once it leaves their hands. (Does it go to the local artist, or does it go to a huge conglomerate?) This surprised me at first, but it makes sense when I think about how homeschooling gives my kids the opportunity to learn through living rather than strictly through textbooks. Since we talk about this kind of stuff all the time, it makes sense that our discussions will spill over into their daily choices.

I’ll talk more about this tomorrow, and I’ll give you my take on a book that talks about this kind of allowance. It’s called The First National Bank of Dad and it was the book that gave me the idea.

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If you liked this post, you might like this one on natural consequences

Photo of Money Shirt by Rob Lee from here and photo of coins in Trevi Fountain, Rome by David Paul Ohmer from here

Sunday's Gratitude Post

I love birthdays. Uh, well, not so much my own, really. 

Let me rephrase that.

I love my kids' birthdays. I guess even that's not exactly right. Let me try again.

I love my kids' birthdays about 90% and hate them about 10%. Makes perfect sense, right?

I love celebrating the birth of my children, but I have a love-hate relationship with birthdays - every year I'm reminded that they're getting older and closer to being out on their own.

On Friday T turned nine. Nine! I'm no longer the parent of little kids. Of course, now that I'm a self-decreed expert (ha!) on little kids, I'm slammed into a new role. (See this post on how I'm always behind the curve.)

We spent T's birthday doing the usual stuff: reliving birth stories, revisiting small-child antics, eating homemade cake, and opening presents. Ahhhh, birthdays. They always renew my closeness to my children.

So, yes, this is a gratitude post, but only about 90% of a gratitude post. :)

Photo of multi-colored flame candles by spuballoo from here