Fathers

"Kids need fewer critics and more models."

—Thomas S. Monson

"Nobody can do for little children what a loving father can do.

He sprinkles stardust over their lives."

—Alex Haley

"You don't have to worry about what a child will be tomorrow,

if you remember he is someone today."

—Stacia Tauscher

"The word no carries a lot more meaning

when spoken by a father who also knows how to say yes."

—Joyce Maynard

"Teaching his children is the mark of a civilized man."

—J. Ganz Cooney

"My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it."

—Clarence Kelland

"Fathers create the sunshine of childhood."

—Chris Morgen

Definition of a successful father: a man willing to make substantial, long-term sacrifices of his time, money and personal fulfillment and dedicate his efforts to rearing the next generation.

These seven fathers are my heroes.

Intentional Motherhood

Micah, Josh, Amy and Heidi, 1978

I was an intentional mother—I knew what I wanted to have happen and I thought of ways to make it happen. Here's one of my success stories:

Twice a week I hung a sign on our front door that said Halverson Hero Happening! It was a family after-school party—because it was named, it was special. Then, I acted excited! "Hi guys! Did you remember we're having a Happening?" They were caught up by my enthusiasm.

I directed them to hang up their coats, give me their papers, etc. "Quick! We have activities planned!" First we'd go to the Treat Cafe (normal after-school snacks served by a waitress. I'd recite the menu and they'd place their orders, sitting at the counter like customers.) With the phone off the hook and a "We're busy today," sign on the door, we had time to chat.

Next we played games—naming them made all the difference.

Minute Reports—the timer was set for one minute and each kid had a turn to tell as many things as they could about their day. Someone watched the timer and someone kept track.

Story Time—We'd sit on the floor in a circle and I'd tell an ancestor story, or one about an upcoming holiday, or a story with a moral, or a funny poem, or just a knock-knock joke. Something fun.

Homework Hop—each kid had to hop on one foot for as long as it took to tell what their homework was.

Laundry Prize—each kid put away their laundry and would find a piece of bubble gum, or a lollipop at the bottom of their individual basket. It was a race to get back to the family room first.

Chore Challenge—each kid drew a chore from a hat and had five minutes to do it well, and return and sit down. Then we'd all inspect each chore and decide if it passed inspection. If it did, the kid got a star on the job chart.

Talent Showoff—each kid performed something they were supposed to practice (a piano piece, a violin solo, a gymnastics trick, a multiplication table) and we all clapped.

Free Time—I assigned partners or trios of kids to invent an activity, which they could play together as long as they didn't bother another partnership. When the inevitable melt-down came, I'd gather the group again and they'd all report on their activity. By then the magic of the Happening had dissipated and we'd break up into homework, practicing, TV, whatever til dinner time.

Happenings met our needs. The kids wanted my full attention after school. When they got it, they behaved. I wanted their full attention after school and when I got it, I behaved. The whole afternoon went smoother. (To be totally honest, this did not work all the time. But it worked enough of the time for me to call it successful.)

The kids had to deal with peer pressure—telling friends they couldn't play was embarrassing. I had my own peer pressure: telling friends "I've reserved this time for my kids," was hard for me. But this was valuable time and I didn't want to give it away. I consolidated lessons as much as possible so we'd have a couple of un-pressured afternoons a week; sometimes I bagged lessons altogether for a season in favor of a less chaotic home life.

Motherhood was a career choice for me, not something on the side. Because I viewed it this way, I could excuse the parts I wasn't thrilled about—every career has its downsides—and concentrate my efforts where my personal talents and interests lay.

"The greatest aid to adult education is children."

—Charlie T. Jones

Pride of Ownership

"Twelve year old kids can drive boats," Josh informed me when he was almost twelve. "Can we buy one?" "Sure," I told him. "If you earn the money."

With that incentive he found the perfect job in the back of a Boy's Life magazine:

Gift Wrap Salesman Wanted.
Sell $75 worth of wrapping paper and win a . . .

(oh my gosh, can this be true??)

. . . a boat!

Josh trekked the neighborhood, order form in hand, collecting sales and checks. Within three days the $3.99 package deals added up to a $75 package, and all he had to do was wait for his boat.

Six to eight weeks the magazine said.

Twelve weeks passed and so did boating season.

Most of us forgot all about it.

One night Dee and I came home late to a quiet house. A cardboard box was in shreds on the counter and pieces of styrofoam were stuck to the couch. The kids were all in their beds—except for Josh. He was sleeping on the floor, surrounded by dozens of rolls of Christmas wrap.

He'd gone boating.

Josh's raft provided a fun day on Mirror Lake—two at a time we climbed in and prayed it wouldn't sink. A few months later, at Christmastime, the neighbors started calling to see what had happened to their wrapping paper. (Apparently Josh's talent was in sales, not delivery.) I don't know what happened to the boat after that. Most of us forgot all about it, even Josh.

A couple of weeks ago we visited Josh's family. The kids were already asleep when we arrived late Christmas night, but Christie reported on the festivities of the day, while Josh took our suitcases downstairs. "Chase got a boat," she was telling us, just as Josh called, "You've got to see this!"

It's so fun when your kids have kids who are just like them.

Our First Christmas Morning

Our 8' x 35' home, and our VW Bug, 1969

As newlyweds we never noticed how cold it got in our trailer at night. Christmas morning we woke up to find our shower curtain frozen into it's folds. The moisture had turned to ice! To save money, we left our coal oil furnace off, so Dee jumped out of bed to light it while I stayed snug under the covers. I told him to open his first Christmas present before he lit the fire: his new extra-long matches (in a decorative box) took up residence on top of the "fireplace" as objects d' art.

When the room warmed up, we made hot chocolate with candy canes, and freshly whipped cream, and Dee lit the candles on the tree (which was dry and a huge fire hazard.) A tiny stash of presents was piled underneath. Although we'd set a $10 budget, both of us had overspent. Dee gave me a book of Bruegel art, a slip of ivory lace, and a small hymn book. Besides the matches, Dee got some 4711 Cologne, a collage of our memories, and a red flannel nightshirt that I had made. (He only wore the nightshirt once because it stuck to the sheets, and turned them red.)

Our first Christmas, 1969

The opening ceremonies took about five minutes. Part of me wanted to rush home to my parent's warm family room where a giant tree glittered and a real fireplace roared. Dad would be passing out presents for an hour, and Mom would be fixing a lavish buffet, and I could be a kid in receiving mode. But this year I was not a kid anymore—I was a wife with a home of my own and it was our first Christmas as a family.

Dee's enthusiasm for all our firsts made them fun: I cherish that about him. He has always put our family above anyone or anything else; since the day we were married his goal has been to strengthen and unify our little (now big) family. At first I would have been happy to play house, but return to my parent's home several times a week to enjoy their TV, refrigerator, and full-size tub. About a month after we were married I remember thinking, "Well, this was fun, but I want to go home where Mom does the dirty laundry, and Dad makes the scary decisions." I realize that we would have stagnated that way. It would have diminished our shaky self confidence, and kept our fledgling abilities unnoticed and unnecessary. I'm glad it was only a fleeting thought, because those attributes needed opportunity and reason to grow—too much supervision or hovering would have smothered them.

One of our great thrills has been to watch our kids start their own holiday traditions. It's fun to see which ones they include from their childhood, what their spouse brings into the mix and what ideas they come up with together (Anna). (Click the links to see their versions of our traditions.) I love hearing that somebody celebrates St. Nickolas Day (Gabi) and that somebody else remembers our George Bailey Award (Marta). They also incorporate new traditions such as the Nutcracker Ballet, sleigh riding or cooking their own fancy dinner on Christmas Eve.

We decided long ago that we would never put pressure on our kids to split their time equally, or keep track of on and off years. Now they have extra sets of parents, grandparents and even great-grandparents they want to fit around the traditions they're trying to establish in their homes. Our main gift is to take the pressure off, support their decisions, and enjoy being together in whatever configuration works best that year. Our old traditions have served their purpose, and now there are seven unique families we try to strengthen in whatever way they need—by being there, having them over, or giving them space.

Someone said, "Your traditions must not mean as much to you as mine do to me." I answered that as fun as our traditions have been, they have evolved over time. I want the tradition to work for the family, rather than the family have to work for the tradition. Although Swedish thin hot cakes were our favorite tradition for Christmas breakfast, trying to wedge in a thinny between breakfast and brunch (at three different houses, hauling three babies) seems ridiculous. The thinny won't have its feelings hurt and neither will I! "We'll be thrilled to see you anytime" has become our new holiday tradition.

Memories are worth making. I'm so glad our stubbornness in establishing that first Family Christmas in our trailer overrode my mom's heartbreak, my homesickness, and Dee's granny's disappointment. We established some traditions that year that have lasted 42 years—mainly that our marriage made us a family, and no matter how inexperienced we were, strengthening our family was our main responsibility as long as they were ours. Some year we would see them leave to establish their own family, and we would stand back and let them go. We each get our own turn—the Christmas of 1969 taught me that.

St. Nicholas Day

Some folks are just naturally merry.

Take St. Nicholas, for instance. Can you imagine him complaining about the cold? Or feeling sorry for himself because he works 24/7? He's a jolly old soul whose main goal in life is to make us smile.

Today is St. Nicholas Day. Children in Holland and Germany (and lots of other places) know that St. Nick is out and about, so they leave a carrot or apple in their shoe as a snack for the reindeer. When they wake up, the carrot has been replaced with a tiny thank-you surprise, and the season of giving is ushered in.

In honor of St. Nicholas Day, I'm thinking of people who always live life as if it were filled with twinkling lights, inspiring music, exciting adventure and endless promise. The ones that make my life better just by being part of it. Optimistic people, merry people.

A cute lady I know brightens a room whenever she enters, not because of her appearance but because of her attitude, her smile and her friendliness. She has lots of interests and is very interesting, but she still seems genuinely interested in me! Another friend always asks about everyone in my family, laughs about funny things I said years ago, and finds the best in any situation. Her enthusiasm is contagious; it's a gift I get whenever we're together.

A wise man said, "Like all human behavior, optimism is learned. No one is born with it or without it. You learn it. You practice it. You try it out until it becomes a habit. And then you can't imagine behaving any other way . . .

"Begin with a smile. Take a real interest in what others are thinking, saying, and doing. Get outside yourself. You can (and do) change everyone with whom you come in contact. The question is whether you add to or subtract from the day's experience." (Don Gale)

As my St. Nicholas Day gift to you, I asked the jolly old man his secret. "I wink a lot," he said. Mmmm . . . maybe that's why he sees only the best in us. (Haven't you always wondered why he leaves presents whether you're naughty or nice?) He looks at the bright side: maybe that's why he's so merry!

Merry Christmas!

Extended Family Christmas

Glancing at each other with sucked in grins, we tried not to giggle out loud. Our feet didn't touch the floor as we left the doctor's office that December 11, 1969, and burst out laughing, hugging each other before the door closed. It was true! Next year we would be known as Santa Claus to someone! We were going to have a baby.

We'd been married three months, and it was our first Christmas together. We were still kids ourselves, 20 and 23, and we were over the moon with excitement. Our own family. How could we celebrate such an eternal occasion? With an evergreen tree!

It fit in the corner of our 8' x 35' trailer (we're talking a pretty skinny tree) but it was green and crisply frozen; when it thawed out we swooned with the smell of fresh pine. We couldn't afford lights or ornaments, so we were creative. Strands of popcorn, and tissue paper snowflakes were hung, along with Christmas cards held on by fat red yarn bows. Even the cost of a package of cranberries stretched our budget too far, so Dee surprised me by stringing red pyracantha berries from the bushes near our mailbox. They shriveled within hours, so every morning he threaded new ones for fresh garlands.

Over our forty two Christmases we've had a forest of Christmas trees, but no tree stands out in my memory like our first one. It was like our marriage: it represented love, hope, effort, dreams and new traditions.

Christmas Eve we announced our good news by singing at the family party:

♬For unto us a child is born; unto us a son/daughter is given. ♬

(We each sang our own prediction.) It was snowing, so we left early and drove home for our own cozy celebration. After reading the Christmas story in Luke 2 we hung our brand-new, home-made stockings on the knobs of the stove and went to bed.

I'll admit, I wanted to stay at my mom's that first year, until I saw Dee's enthusiasm for our own Christmas. I couldn't imagine being away from my family on Christmas morning. Mom's Christmases were something from a fairytale, and Dad always had surprises on top of surprises. It took us a couple of hours to open our presents, and then our grandparents arrived with more. There were fires in both fireplaces, Mom made a lovely buffet in the dining room and Dad gave away cash prizes during football half-times.

I felt torn. I was the first kid to leave home and miss the big family event, and my parents were urging us to stay overnight. (Urge is a mild word—it was somewhere between insist and command.) They didn't support my new family when it upset their old family traditions. I felt traitorous choosing my little family over theirs, and I resented them for making it awkward to choose. I don't think that was their intention, but it was the result. Their lack of enthusiasm for our humble celebration encouraged me to resent Dee for hauling me away from their warm hearth to our chilly coal-oil hot plate.

I'm sure many newly-weds experience the same tug-of-war between childhood memories and adult responsibilities. It's easier to stay in mom and dad's Garden of Eden, than venture off into the cold and dreary world and work to plant a garden for ourselves. But it's a main part of the plan of happiness.

I love the quote that advises parents to "Hold your loved ones to you with wide open arms." It was our turn to start traditions, and Dee was anxious to have our first year together as just a couple—we'd never have it again. My folks were hurt and mad, as they often were when we began "tearing their family apart," (mom's words.) During those years we wondered: Why do we have to debate and defend our efforts to strengthen our marriage and home to our own parents, who ought to be thrilled we're trying to do that very thing!

I had wonderful parents, but they viewed me as theirs, even when I wasn't anymore. It caused a lot of stress, sapped my confidence, created conflict between me and Dee, and resulted in hard feelings that were difficult to overcome. From that first year we started setting goals for when we had adult children, hoping to avoid adding pressure and anxiety to our kid's lives.

1. We will be enthusiastic and support their choices, always, and congratulate them on making tough decisions, never second-guessing.
2. We won't throw cold water on their dreams with all our supposed wisdom.
3. When we tell them they're so awesome, they could do anything, we'll actually let them do the thing they choose to do.
4. We'll remember it's their life—their chance to make decisions (even wrong ones,) their chance to set priorities, their chance to learn it all line upon line, here a little and there a little, and our chance to stand back and enjoy it all from a distance.
5. We will plan for and develop interests that will keep us occupied so we don't have tons of free time to try to live their lives for them. We'll be available when they want us, and thick-skinned when they don't.

I started stressing over next-year's holiday the day after Christmas. How could I explain to mom how we felt, and not have it turn into a debate or a lecture? Or worse, hurt-feelings and comments like, "Grandma said she hopes she dies before you stop coming to the Christmas Eve party."

There was no understanding of the difficulty of dragging seven kids away from their Christmas whatever and keep them entertained (during the most hyper time of year) and well-behaved in a beautifully appointed house full of valuable keep-sake decorations, surrounded by a bunch of adults the kids don't know and who are annoyed by the chaos kids live in.

I've gotten carried away. It's 4:00 am and I'm leaving for Denver at 8:00 am! You're going to have to carry on this discussion! What do you think? We need opinions from all sides of the issue. Comment!!!

And, on a more festive topic: Where do you find Christmas magic? I'm ghostwriting a blog this season—my pen name is Kirby Puckernut and I'm one of Santa's elves. Click here for a sleigh full of fun Christmas ideas! Please visit—Kirby's more light-hearted than me today!

Scary Stuff: Work

Let me tell you a story . . .

Eve was the first working mother. She looked around at her perfect garden and her perfect life and realized she'd never learn anything if she didn't take some responsibility. What's more, her kids would be spoiled brats. Adam agreed, so they chose to leave paradise to go out and work for a living. That's why we arrive on earth when we're born instead of some Shangri-La.

Miles

Oh, sure. At first playing in the dirt seems like a giant party. It's soft and warm (before you find out about worms and weeds and wheelbarrows.)

Jake and Eliza

But there's no free lunch—somebody's feeding us. For the first little while we just lay back and take it all in. After a couple of years, though, we feel a little squirmy about being so pampered. In fact, one of your first sentences was, "I do it myself!"

Peter

Eve got it right. She knew about stuff like self-esteem, and that moms and dads can't give it to their kids. It has to be earned. The Lord put the corn in the ground, the peaches on the trees, and the trout in the streams, but He left the work for us to do ourselves. Maybe He wanted to teach gratitude, humility, diligence and help us build our self-worth. It's a great teaching pattern for parents.

Benji's feet

We all need a chance to dig around and find the stuff we want. If the tools for life were lined up nicely on the counter we'd never learn to be creative—the search is part of our education.

Coal, oil, silver and gas are all hidden in convenient locations for our use. Wind and lightning are there for the taking, but God lets His children discover His treasures. Of course, He already knows the best ways to use these tools, but we learn better when we work it out for ourselves. It might take longer and make a mess, but we'll remember what we learn.

Benji

When I had little kids I was always hovering about, trying to keep the mess to a minimum. It seemed easier and faster to do the cooking and cleaning myself. Luckily, there's a two-year-old inside everybody who insists on independence, and eventually parents figure out that it's for the best. Research prepares kids for work and work prepares kids for adulthood.

Mack

Twelve-year-olds that can follow a recipe become eighteen-year-olds that can fill out a job application. There's an old saying: "The work will teach you how to do it." But work teaches more than just the skill that's required—its benefits are innumerable.

You'll be a better friend if you know how to lend a hand. You'll be a better student if you know how to stick to a task. You'll be a better driver if you've learned self control. You'll be a better spouse if you know how to pitch in willingly. Common sense is developed better by working than any other way, and common sense is worth way more than dollars and cents.

Ashley

Don't ever avoid work because it seems beneath you,

Chloe

Or over your head.
Doing any type of work well builds character.

Twinkies

Work improves your people skills. Usually kids duke it out with their brothers and sisters for a few years before they have to partner with someone outside the family. By then they've learned a bit about cooperation. Discussions with Mom about actually cleaning the tub instead of just closing the shower curtain, and debates with Dad about how long an hour of weeding should really take are good training seminars for uncomfortable conversations with a critical new boss.

Back in the day, work was worthwhile because it needed to be done. Nowadays, work is sometimes judged by how much you can make. Don't avoid work just because there's no money involved. Experience, resolve, skills and self-worth are the real payoffs for a job well-done. Work is noble. People who see your good works trust you with chosen tasks and you learn even more.

Lucy

"If you want to keep your kids' feet on the ground,
Put some responsibility on their shoulders."
—Ann Landers

And to all you working moms,
(all moms are working moms!)
who are trying to follow Mother Eve
and get the job chart noticed,
here's an encouraging truth:

"Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work,
and out of small things proceedeth that which is great."
Doctrine and Covenants 64:33

*Discussion Question:
How do you teach kids to work?
How do you motivate yourselves?
What jobs are appropriate for each age?
When is too much expected?

Child Discipline

And now, may I present an old favorite:


It Takes Discipline

Who are all these kids and why are they calling me mom?

I used to be this woman: young, formerly cute, with a bad attitude and a mean face. I started out with great theories on raising kids. Then one day I found a 25-pound bag of sugar spread evenly on the storage room floor. The kids and their friends were ice-skating in their socks over the slippery crystals.

Chalking it up to bad outside influences, I kept them isolated from naughty neighbor children. The next thing they designed was a swimming pool. They covered the shower drain with a towel and let the water overflow onto the bathroom floor. The plan was to fill up the bathroom and swim like fish in an aquarium. The resulting flood ruined the tile, and the carpet in the next room.

Experts on child-rearing have never bothered having children. If they did, they'd know nothing works. My theories toppled like blocks in a playroom.

When the corner of the boys bedroom started attracting flies, I investigated. Hmmm . . . what was the stinky, sticky liquid that had stiffened the carpet and eaten away the carpet pad . . . even the floor boards were dissolving . . . Could it be that animals lived in this room and had marked their spot with urine? These could NOT be my children! My children were obediently doing their extra reading at bedtime, not filling their toy box with bodily fluids!

Insanity is hereditary. You get it from your kids.

There were emotional issues, too. One kid had a conniption fit when the tub drain was released, convinced that he and all of his loved ones would be sucked down pipes and live in the sewer muck forever. He could hear the plug being released from any room in the house and broke into screams of terror. Another kid refused to take baths. He sat fully clothed on the bathroom floor and stirred the bathwater so it would sound like he was washing his sweat-stained arms.

Fears of wind, car washes, and vacuums ran rampant at our house. Two kids "rolled" their heads in a rhythmic effort to sooth themselves to sleep . . . for hours every night! I sat in darkened bedrooms to scare away bad dreams, and laid in darkened doorways to rescue sleepwalkers.

My bad dreams involved taking them out in public. Mom rearranged the furniture one year for Thanksgiving. She hauled the ping-pong table upstairs to the dining room, and set it with her lovely silver and china. The meal got underway, with instructions on where to sit and thanks to great-grandma for her homemade watermelon pickles. "Everybody fold your arms. It's time for the prayer."

I scanned the room for my cute little boys while my sister searched for hers. Suddenly the decorative metal room divider lurched towards the table. As we all looked up in horror we saw four little monkeys clutching the aluminum scroll-work as it fell from it's place between the ceiling and the half-wall. In the nick of time, our husbands caught it before our sons became the centerpiece. Turkey time.

I childproofed the house but they keep getting back in.

I'm not telling these stories to brag. I just want to establish my credentials as an honest-to-goodness mom. Thirty years of on-the-job training taught me that most naughty behavior is just a stage. Happily all seven kids grew out of all conduct unbecoming, and now it's entertaining to watch them deal with their own little rascals.

I remember how hard it was to be a mom—it was so constant! Every night I'd climb in bed, exhausted, and I'd wake up still exhausted, knowing the second my feet touched the floor it would start spinning like a merry-go-round. One of the homework assignments I read this week (they are all so good!) compared motherhood to the movie Groundhog Day: the same day over and over. Isn't that a perfect description? But now, with my Oma perspective, I see it differently. A few months ago I wrote a post called Wax Strong as a tribute to the never-ending task of raising kids. Caring parents are awesome.

But what do you do between "the baby just rolled over!" and "he's going away to college?" My dad used to say, "Just love 'em, and make them mind." So, how do you teach them to mind? What works? Time outs, grounding, incentives, threats, taking away privileges, little chats? What's fair? What if you're inconsistent? Is there a place for spanking? (If I was a young mother now I'd be turned in for child abuse for sure.)

(All illustrations here are from the darling book Jillian Jiggs, by Phoebe Gilman.)

As a parent or grandparent, you've been on the front lines and your experience, good and bad, is valuable. If you're not a parent, you were a kid. How did your parents handle tantrums, lying, bad grades, curfew, swearing, speeding tickets or whatever your vice happened to be?

Share!

Motivation

The Blue Bengal was our inheritance. It had a giant steering wheel with the gear shift on the column, no power steering, and driving it dislocated my shoulder. It called out to a teenage boy, and we had one. They were made for each other—both totally unique.

Josh could make that car do anything. One busy Saturday he took it downtown and entered the twisting driveway of a parking garage. Halfway up the ramp, with several cars stacked up behind him, the Bengal stalled. Josh got it started again, but it wouldn't shift into first. With the honking becoming louder, and his face getting redder, he leaned all his weight on the gear shift and forced it to slip somewhere inside, allowing the car to drive forward. Later he realized he'd created a new gear. From then on Josh was the only one who knew the combination. The Bengal was his.

An email the other day asked, "What motivates you?" I'm like the Blue Bengal. A bunch of people who expect me to go forward, all waiting for me to get in gear—that motivates me.

The same email asked, "How did you motivate your kids?" I thought of another story about Josh.

1980

He was full of energy, which we tried to channel. I signed him up for swimming, tennis, piano, astronomy . . . we went to the library and I pointed out books he'd love—all the stuff moms do. Then I'd pay, drive, insist, cajole, support, threaten—the other half of what moms do.

But when he said he wanted to take gymnastics, I put him off. We had all these other lessons lined up; it was too dangerous, expensive and inconvenient. One morning he found the Yellow Pages and sat down with the phone. Later he asked again, with specific details. He'd researched it all, found a gym and arranged to clean it on Saturdays to pay for lessons. He planned to ride his bike about 6 miles each way a few times a week if he had to, and told me the route. "So, can I, Mom?" Josh was thirteen at the time and totally self-motivated. Because it was his idea, we didn't have to coax at all.

So, my answer to the second question comes from Harry Truman: "Find out what your kids want to do, and then advise them to do it."

What the Blue Bengal lacked in fine-tuning it made up for with enthusiasm. It eventually gave out enough sparks to set the road on fire! Josh has done the same thing. In my experience, when someone is motivated, the best thing you can do is get out of their way.


*Homework:

~Use a story to answer the question: What motivates you?"

Life Coach

Somebody's Dad

"Football was my sport," he said. "I could feel it. Mom was worried I'd break my nose or crush my knee so she never let me play. Finally I wore her down and got on the sophomore team. The whole family showed up for my first game, cheering as I ran onto the field in my green and gray uniform. I was giddy with football fever. Apparently the coach wasn't feeling my vibes, because he left me on the bench all four quarters.

"My sisters didn't even notice, but my brother gave me a hard time. 'Next week,' whispered my mom. Next week was just the same. I sat out the following game, too. After that my siblings stopped coming. Mom missed the day it snowed, and it was getting colder in the afternoons, so I understood why she didn't come again.

"But Dad was in the bleachers every Friday. He acted like he had nothing he'd rather do than shiver through somebody else's son's football games. Although I was embarrassed, he brushed it off, patted my back, and took me for a hamburger on the way home.

"The last game of the season was a bust. They were ahead by 36 with only a minute left in the 4th quarter. Most of the crowd was gone, and even the cheerleaders were packing up their pom poms. Coach Stone wandered down the bench and gave us 4th-stringers a nod. 'Go in and finish this up,' he said. I grabbed my helmet and glanced up at the bleachers as I strapped it on. There was only one person left in the stands and he was cheering like we'd just won the Super Bowl. My dad."

Who sat in the stands and cheered for you?

This idea came from a comment I heard in Sunday School.

Family Matters Seminar: Postcard of Strength

Strengthen the Family

"If you want your children to keep their feet on the ground,
put some responsibility on their shoulders."
—Ann Landers

I learned something about this when I went on Pioneer Trek.

Homework: Do any or all or be inspired.

~Write about a time when you felt a heavy responsibility. What did it teach you? Prompt: "I didn't think I could do it. I________"

~One mother wrote, "Don't do anything for your kids that they could do themselves." How do you feel about that statement?

~Another mother wrote, "My job is to put myself out of a job." List 10 things kids need to learn to become self-sufficient.

*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.

Travel Studies Seminar: Taking the Kids

Art by Mary Engelbreit

On New Year's Eve, 1993 Dee and I sat in a restaurant day-dreaming about the New Year. "Let's go to Europe with the kids," I said recklessly. It was actually out of the question. We knew how much a trip would cost, and adding the expense of the four teenagers we still had at home made the numbers even crazier to contemplate. But, knowing it was just a whim, we played it out.

Pros: It had always been our dream to show our kids Salzburg; it would be our 25th anniversary; our older three kids had already left the nest and we knew how fast it would happen with the others; if we left it another year or so they might not be able to (or want to) go with us; we had tons of experience both planning trips and traveling in Europe, and we knew we'd be their best tour guides; it would be a family bonding experience. And, we wanted to go.

Con: Money. On a napkin we did the math. Ridiculous to even think about. But still . . .

The next day, January 1, 1994, we presented the idea to the kids. What if we set a family goal to save $1,000 a month for nine months? We could go to Europe in September for three weeks. Would it be worth it to them? The maps came out and and we sat around the table discussing it all morning. Our kids were 18, 15, 14 and 12. There were lots of concerns: going in September would be less expensive and we'd be likely to have nice weather, but they'd be in school. Could they miss that much? The oldest was in college--should she skip that semester? Jobs, projects, roommates, commitments... And how would we save enough money??

At noon we took a vote and it was unanimous: We would go for it. All aboard!

Everyone agreed that we'd each contribute whatever we could. Of course an 18-year-old could earn more than a 12-year-old, but the actual amounts weren't relevant. "One for all and all for one" was the attitude. Everyone volunteered to make sacrifices: we cut out music lessons, Little League, haircuts, Easter dresses, basketball shoes, restaurants—we made a long list. The next day we all went to the bank together and each of us opened special savings accounts for our trip funds.

Over the next few months we notified everyone about our goal and numerous opportunities to work rolled in. The kids babysat, mowed lawns, shoveled snow, chauffeured neighbors, cleaned houses and businesses and yards, hauled trees, helped people move, organized basements, weeded gardens . . . and all the earnings went into the bank.

Whenever we skipped a pizza or a movie we made a contribution to the account. By July, I realized we wouldn't make it. We had fallen short. The nine months was actually only eight months (because we'd be gone the ninth) and we'd had unexpected expenses during the summer. I was sick about it.

Out of the blue one day my dad called and said he had some miles on Delta he wanted to donate to our cause. They were enough to buy one and a half airfares, and Dee had just enough miles to combine for the second fare. The folks at Delta made it work. With that incentive, we redoubled our efforts.

A friend in the neighborhood asked incredulously if it was true that our kids had to pay to go on a family vacation. I guess it might have seemed that way to an onlooker. To us it was much more than a vacation. While the three-week trip was an incredible experience, the best part of it was setting a goal and working together to achieve it.

A page from our book.

It doesn't matter what you're trying to accomplish: finishing the basement, getting a new TV, buying a trampoline, or going back to school. With the support of a family, you can do it. Sit down together and make some plans. Let everyone contribute ideas, and then let everyone contribute over a period of time by working towards it somehow. I guarantee this strategy will strengthen your family and create awesome memories.

I've collected some great suggestions for traveling with kids from my daughters and daughters-in-law.

All fired up.

Candice says: "I always make sure to have:

• a DVD player for the car (with new movies to watch)

• a plastic, refillable water bottle for each person

• snacks that won't melt and can be eaten without making a huge mess (such as goldfish crackers, grapes, string cheese, etc.)

• Dramamine--sometimes I'll give it to them before we've even started if I know we are driving through the mountains

• a pillow and small blanket for each kid

• CDs with music that the adults enjoy (if we are listening to music we like, we are usually in a better mood to deal with the kids)

• a notebook and a pencil for each kid

"Some things I've learned not to bring are lots of toys (they just make a mess and don't get played with anyway) lots of art stuff (same reason as before) or even lots of car activities. It seems that the more I bring, the more chaotic it becomes. The kids seem to do better if they can just listen to music and look out the window or watch a movie.

"Also, we've found that stopping at a junky fast food place like McDonalds just makes us mad because the food is always gross and the restaurant is often dirty. We now like to bring our own food in a cooler and stop at a rest stop instead. The kids can run around outside, the food is better, and it costs less money!"

"Are we having fun yet?"

Gabi says: "My philosophy on vacations is this: Family trips are a lot of fun to plan and a lot of fun to remember. If they happen to be fun as they actually occur, it's just a delightful surprise."

Hannah, Chase, McKay in flight

Christie says: "Hotel beds are perfect for doing things that are not allowed at home. Like jumping or simultaneously falling flat on your face to see who gets there first."

Flower Children

Amy says: "Here are some tips for a trip to Disneyland. Even if the flight is only 1.5 hours prepare snacks and lots of activities before boarding. Print out coloring pages of favorite Disney characters and purchase triangular crayons (so the crayons don't roll off the tray.)"

~J at Formerly Phread (not a daughter) wrote an awesome post on travel with kids.

What do you want to have happen on a family vacation, and how do you make sure it does? Let's discuss!


Homework: Share your thoughts on your blog or leave a comment.

~Any ideas for cheap family vacations/stay-cations?

~How have you involved your kids in planning a family vacation?

~Do you have tips for traveling with little kids? Teenagers?

~What do you remember about a family vacation when you were little? What made it fun?


*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.

Family Matters: The "S-Word"

How did you find out? I was barely ten, chatting in my pink striped bedroom with Karen and Linda. Karen and I were the oldest kids in our family, and Linda was #3 in hers. Oldest kids are always a bit dorky in worldly ways. Our parents were content to assume we were too young. Third kids had knowledgeable siblings to clue them in, and Linda was passing on her wisdom.

I was horrified and accused her of lying; the story was totally unacceptable, and gross. I heard the same lie again from Brenda on the swings at recess. Later, I read a novel that hinted it was all true. By the time my parents finally told me, one very embarrassing Sunday night when I was in ninth grade (they had a booklet and everything) I figured I knew as much as they did. But I acted like it was all new to me, and just listened and waited (mortified) for it to be over.

It was obliquely referred to by my parents after that, but I was engaged before it really come up again in a conversation. Mom told me to "be careful because passion can be explosive." She said she and dad had "come close" before they were married, but they had "stayed strong." I was vastly impressed! Not only had they stayed strong...they had come close! Wow! These parents of mine had a past!

"Gotta tell 'em sometime."

Heroes 1984

I decided to take the bull by the horns with my own kids. Rather than have a huge tell-all discussion that would be uncomfortable for everyone, I'd keep them informed throughout their childhood, and make it all feel normal. I would answer every question appropriately and we would be an open, natural family. Of course, I didn't count on questions being asked in front of their single uncle while they were splashing in the tub ("Is this where the baby comes out?") or on an elevator full of people ("How did daddy plant the seed?") or at a birthday party when I was calling out that I needed cooperation ("Oh no! Are you pregnant again?") There were many other times their appropriate questions were asked in an inappropriate setting. I must have given out vibes that this wasn't a subject I wanted to discuss on demand.

They stopped asking. So, I got a book, which I would occasionally break out for an ice-breaker when the mood was right for questions. Gabi, at 10, declared that I was perverted. "Why do you always talk about this stuff?" Josh left the room in disgust whenever he could tell I was about to bring it up. Micah, however, was fascinated. He loved the pictures and seemed mildly excited by the topic, even as a 7-year-old little boy. Dee sat in horror, hoping I would not bring him into the discussion. His parents had never told him, and he had discovered everything all on his own. Couldn't we just handle it in that time-honored way?

(I haven't read this.)

The last four kids weren't as difficult; they absorbed all the hush-hush information by eavesdropping on their sibling's conversations. The S-word was part of their vocabulary, although they obviously hoped we wouldn't get too technical. It's troublesome for kids to imagine that their parents are savvy in this area. "Mom, don't go there . . . too much information," is a phrase I became familiar with.

How do parents tell kids nowadays? Do they say, "Go watch channel five?" The whole truth is graphically depicted everywhere. My grandkids illustrate that carnal knowledge still comes gradually and in a piecemeal way. They hide their eyes when Superman kisses Lois Lane, and cover their ears so they can't hear "yukky kissing sounds." They innocently ask if the lovers in the movie are having "a sleepover" and hide the bare-naked Barbie from a baby brother's gaze.

Jake was eight when he told me he'd save me from a cauldron of spiders or snakes. He'd even save me from monsters. "I'm not scared of anything," he informed me. I said I had a really scary scenario for him. What if I was in a room full of giggling girls who all wanted to kiss him? Would he save me? "NO WAY!!" he screamed. "Unless I was older and they were pretty," he whispered.

Jake 2007

Hmmm, there's no getting around it. Those are still the facts of life.

Homework: Choose any or all, or be inspired.

~Comment on books you'd recommend (or not) to teach kids of all ages about sex.

~Write about how you found out about sex. Prompt: "My parents didn't tell me; I found out from____."

~"Do Oma and Opa do the special hug?" Record something funny you've heard a kid say about sex.

~Think through an answer.  You're standing behind a very pregnant woman in the grocery store check-out line, and you four-year-old asks loudly, "Mom, how will her baby get out?" 

*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.