Before Cassie was born, I read volume after volume of modern parenting books. Having been raised in a strong family, I knew that I had a fairly solid feel for what parenting involved. But, I wanted to be as prepared as possible. After Cassie was born, I continued to consume parenting literature. I read about exactly what to expect developmentally and kept track of each milestone that she met in my "mother's journal." I was prepared for each potential crisis - teething, whooping cough, ear infections, sleeping problems, colic. I was prepared for every conceivable malady except the one that actually hit - food allergies. That might have been the point at which I was first tempted to lose faith in all the parenting literature. But, I read on.
As Cassie became a toddler, I subscribed to all the best parenting periodicals. I was going to be prepared to host the best play dates, throw the best birthday parties, and pack the best school lunches. One evening, when Cassie was 3, we were having dinner with friends who also had a young child. Our friend remarked that if I had read the latest edition of such and such parenting magazine, I would have known that what Les had just said to Cassie was on the "Top 10 List of Things Parents Should Never Say to Children." I don't really need to write that the evening ended abruptly. But, that also marked the end of my romance with parenting doctrine.
I've come to realize that parenting is common sense and open mindedness. As a parent, I've got to be willing to respond to new situations and learn from them. For example, the other morning a pencil that someone had left in the middle of the family room floor became embedded in the bottom of my foot when I accidentally stepped on it. I challenge you to find a parenting journal that gives an appropriate response to a situation like that!
Over the past few years, I have limited myself to reading current articles about kids and technology. These articles tend to emphasize the negative impact of too many cell phone and tablet hours. I've been learning that, in a family setting, technology can be leveraged for positive outcomes. Two weeks ago, Cassie was in the all-county orchestra. On Saturday, the students were bussed from the middle school to the rehearsal site, which was an hour's drive from here. Five minutes after I returned from dropping off Cassie, I saw the sash from her orchestra uniform on the floor in the front hallway. Ah, geez, it must have fallen out of her backpack in our rush to catch the 6:45 a.m. bus that didn't arrive until 7:30. What's a mother to do? I had visions of Cassie sobbing when she went to change for the concert and realized that a critical piece of her outfit was missing. I scratched my head and thought about what my mother would have done, absent modern means of communication. My Mom was such a saint that she probably would have revved up the old station wagon and intercepted the bus before it reached the school. But, yoga class was calling. So, I texted Cassie that I had the sash and that we would arrive well in advance of the concert in order to deliver it. Thank goodness for cell phones. Mine enabled me to learn that Cassie read the text immediately but waited about 4 hours to respond.
Well, Cassie's concert was stunning. But, the celebratory dinner that we had on the way home apparently didn't agree with Lacey. About 12:10 a.m., my phone started chirping. Because all my parenting books had taught me to be a light sleeper, I grabbed it before Les could regain consciousness and grumble about me texting with my sisters in the middle of the night. It was a text from Lacey reading, "I feel like Thuing up."
I texted back, "Thank you, my Brilliant Child, for not suddenly materializing in our room in the middle of the night and scaring the crap out of us!" Well, not really. I thought time was of the essence so I actually responded, "Please go to the bathroom."
Was this not a brilliant use of technology on Lacey's part? Gone are the days when the offspring urps on top of Mom and Dad in the wee hours of the night. Take that, all you naysayers of technology.
I will confess that prior to adopting Lacey I did read extensively. This time, I read all the books about adoption. While much of the literature was useful, a lot of it was outright frightening. I once again became over prepared, alert for any sign of maladjustment, PTSD, and attachment disorder. Then, one day I realized that none of the books I've read ever told me to just sit back and enjoy my kids. Somewhere, amidst all the cajoling and pushing, it's good to just enjoy the moments we have.
Last week, Lacey was struggling to complete spelling homework. "What's an antonym for library?" she asked.
Before I could grumble about the idiocy of teachers requiring students to write antonyms to words that may not have antonyms, Cassie walked by. "Apple Store," she yelled, "Apple Store is the antonym for library."
Bravo, Cassie!
After more than four years of prodding, Cassie has finally convinced Lacey to play the violin. Their conversation went something like this.
"I want to play one that lets me sit," Lacey explained.
"Well, that's everything except the string bass," Cassie responded.
"Then, which one has the least number of strings?" Lacey asked.
Here's one final anecdote that's sure not to be included in any adoption book. A couple days ago the girls were chatting over dinner.
"What if I was a twin?" Lacey asked.
"Then my life would be miserable," Cassie answered.
"Well, what if you were a twin?" Lacey continued.
Cassie squinted at Lacey momentarily, trying to determine if she was serious. "Then, you wouldn't be here!" she finally shot back.
