Parenting is No Joke (Part 1): When Strangers Attack via Social Media

I suppose I chose to never again have a dull life the moment I chose to adopt three boys. What I had no choice about, though, is that my “age of parenting” is coinciding with the explosive “age of social media” in which there are no solid rules of engagement or etiquette.

An almost peaceful night was disrupted by a text from a neighbor reading “Check the Facebook group for our neighborhood.” And there it was – a short video of my middle son riding down the street, their friend coming off someone’s lawn and onto the street on a bike, and my youngest walking behind the bike. That was it. A seemingly benign video but their big sin was infringing on someone’s grass.

I have explained to the boys countless times that they need to turn off lights, pee only into the toilet bowl, and stay off other people’s lawns. Despite the continuous reprimands, we seem to be making nonexistent or very slow progress. But I expect that since they are 8 and 10 years old and behavior change is difficult even for mature adults.

However, I also expect that if my neighbors have trouble with my children, they should find the parent and address the situation. I never expected to be called out on social media with “parents are not raising children with respect of others” when this individual has never ever met me. She does not know how hard I work to instill respect. She doesn’t know how many times I yell, punish, and reprimand the boys. She does not know that I work tirelessly to help other parents in this most challenging work, that I’m committed to the philosophy that it takes a village to raise a child and that we should all be helping each other.

And she does not know that I showed the video and the post to my boys that night as we sat on the bed and had another heart-to-heart talk about respecting other people and their property. She does not know that I cried as I explained how their behavior was being blamed on my parenting. The boys apologized over and over again and the youngest hugged me tight and said, “But you are a good mom. You are the best mom.”

The post was removed by 7:30 the next morning, but the sting remained. When I moved, I was searching for a neighborhood in which the boys could thrive. I was looking for a “nice community” in which neighbors supported each other. And so far all of my interactions with neighbors had been phenomenal. I suppose there’s always that one house to avoid.

So I looked up her address (county websites are so helpful), baked fresh chocolate-chip zucchini bread (zucchini from my next door neighbor’s garden) and took my little Cavadoodle on a walk up to the “richer” part of the neighborhood. Ringing the door bell, I waited as the inside dogs quieted down as the door opened. “Hello,” I said, “I’m the mom of the boys who were so disturbing to you this week. I just wanted to apologize that they appeared disrespectful to you. I can assure you that I’ve spoken to them numerous times about respect and staying off people’s property unless they have permission, but they are still young and they are still learning. I asked them to write an apology card for you. My contact information is inside in case you should ever need to reach me. But I do worry that you put their photos up online without my permission. It’s just not safe.” Pretty sure my neighbor had absolutely no idea what to say. She babbled, shocked. “I never expected you to do all this…(babble, babble)… I can tell that you are raising them well with all this effort you went through.”

So let’s remember this, folks. Do not judge the woman down the street as being an awful parent because her kids played in your yard. Be glad that the kids are outside and getting exercise and that your neighborhood is safe enough for them to do that.

Do not vent your complaints on social media unless you have a purpose in creating a better world, like pressuring representatives to vote for health care or companies to take care of their employees better. Social media is not a forum for you to criticize your neighbors.

Teach your children that someone is always watching them, parents, neighbors, teachers, strangers and God Almighty. And it’s very possible that someone is taking photos or videos, so be good and be safe.

And for me, I keep reminding myself that parenting is no joke. But I’m doing the best that I can (usually 🙂 ) and have to put strangers’ inane comments in their rightful place (the trash can!).

(PS – The next morning, said lady drove past tooting her horn “happily” and waved. She’s now my Bestie, apparently.)

 

The Giving Tree on Our Mantle

Mr. Ornery is impossible to take into a store. It’s a guaranteed extra $50-75 any time we check-out. He always “needs” something — whether it’s a specific food item or the “need” to spend his allowance. It is always something.

And I try to remind myself that this is part of growing up and that if I continue to persist, hopefully we’ll make it to the point where his “giving” nature is a bit greater than his “accumulating” nature. But if you take a look at his current Nerf gun collection and Legos you know that we have a long way to go.

There are glimpses of hope, however. He does like to give gifts to friends. At Christmas time he really wanted to buy some toy skateboards to give to his friends with whom he plays a recess. Apparently a few of them bring in these mini skateboards and try to make them do flips and tricks using their fingers. He is also quite generous with gifts for his teachers and will “gift” things around the house to his brothers, like putting together a snack for them or wrapping up a toy and giving it to them.

A couple weeks ago, my sister took my younger two and her 8-year-old to see TobyMac (Christian Hip-Hop performer) in concert. That was a tremendous gift to me to have hours of time free to have dinner with a friend. Part way through the concert, Mr. Ornery called my cell phone and asked permission to buy ball caps. About an hour later, my sister texted, “Mr. Ornery got you a sponsor child. I can give it back. LOL”  “No, keep it,” I replied. The fact that Mr. Ornery thought about sponsoring a child warmed my heart. He was so excited about the packet when he brought it home. “Look, Mom, a girl name Yvonne. It says she lives in Rwanda. Can we send her $50 a month?” “Yes.” “Great, can we send her $80 a month?”…

I’ve been reflecting a bit that I grew up in a “giving” household. My parents were missionaries in Thailand while I was a young girl. I watched them every day give of their time and of their money and of their material things. I learned from my family, from my church, and from my friends to be a “giving” person. I began to wonder how much my boys see of that “giving” nature in me. I’ve done quite a bit of donating time in starting up a nonprofit crisis nursery and I try to point out to the boys that I’m “giving” my time now in meetings to help keep it running smoothly. And they see me giving to the offering plate at church and to the people along the side of the road when we’re downtown.

But they don’t often see the “giving” in terms of sharing with others via monthly monetary support. So I decided that our house needed a “Giving Tree” where we can share and celebrate the opportunity to be able to give to others.

On our tree, we have the sponsored girls giving treefrom Guatemala and now from Rwanda (through Food for the Hungry). We have a picture of our church and will add a picture of a dear friend who works in campus ministry. We also need a picture of me running the marathon relay as a way to raise money for work in Haiti through Haiti H2O. And I’ll grab a photo of the boys when they share Easter eggs with residents of a nearby nursing home next week.

My hope is that this becomes a dynamic, changing and ever-growing tree. My hope is that the boys develop an ever-growing awareness of the blessings in their lives and the call upon all of us to give and share with those who have less than us.

My hope is that I can keep looking for those tiny glimpses of the boys’ giving nature and help that blossom further, deeper and more beautifully.

When Newness brings Peace

“And the peace of God which transcends all understanding….” (Phil 4:7)

There certainly was very little Peace and Quiet over this Christmas break despite the typical expectation of such. This year we moved to a house after living in a cramped, tiny townhome for the past 3 years. The older two had their own bedrooms, but the youngest slept in my bedroom. The TV was on one side of the “living” room space and the couch on the opposite side so the great joy in annoying the eldest was to cross in front of the TV multiple times…or just pretend to forget and stand there. The kitchen was tiny and I couldn’t stand to have a kid in there with me whenever I tried to cook anything on the non-existent counter-space. There was no garage, no basement, no storage area.

But there was an outside. There was an open green space with playground equipment that hardly anyone used if they were over five. And there was a glorious double-bump hillside that made perfect sledding conditions (perfect because the boys could thump over in their boots and I could stay in my warm abode!). And there were kids. Kids who also liked to play outside. Kids who knocked on the door at 8:30 on a Saturday morning. Kids who knocked at 8:00 pm on a school night. Kids that thrived on my boys’ energy and creativity. Kids who were great friends.

So the Saturday before Christmas, I moved over as many boxes as I could pack in the car with supplies to host our first “Cookie Day.” Many friends came out and we baked for hours (despite a nasty cold), creating 56 dozen cookies as the one oven browned sheet after sheet of dough. Sunday and Monday we packed and carted boxes. We cleaned some parts of the new house and some of the old. My sister tore up carpet and sanded two hardwood floors. And Christmas day after the excitement of gifts and a quick meal, we put polyurethane on the floors and opened all the windows. And when the moving trucks pulled out, my wonderful brother drove in from Ohio with two of his older daughters to finish up moving all the odds and ends.

It’s been anything but restful. Anything but quiet. But there has been a remarkable peace that has descended on the family. Christmas Eve I sent the boys down to the basement (“game room,” “man cave,” “den”…we haven’t settled on a name yet!) and I set up their rooms with beds and new blankets and put some select pieces of their school artwork (which I just framed the week before Christmas) on the floor as I didn’t have the tools or the energy to work on hanging them. I had name signs for each room. And The Little Guy jump around in his room with such joy and excitement to have his own space for the first time in his life.

Space. There’s now space for the boys to get away from each other to rest. There’s space in the kitchen (bless my mom and a couple great friends who helped clean and set it up) for me to experience joy and peace in preparing meals for the boys (I got tired of pizza and take-out pretty quickly!). There’s space to put the new hoverboards and electric scooters in the shed and the hand-me-down dirt bike that Mr. Ornery managed to fiddle with enough to get it working. There’s space to breathe and breathing feels very good.

And after three years, there’s a sense of settling and permanency. My brain is no longer searching and searching for the right house, the right location, the right school. It’s not perfect. I really intended to get a MUCH bigger yard for the boys, but it’s got great indoor space and a quiet flat road in front for their craziness.

I am so grateful for everyone who helped physically and emotionally with encouraging texts and messages and Facebook comments. There’s still much to do. I haven’t finished cleaning up the new place yet and there’s boxes upon boxes in “storage” at my sister’s and parents’ houses that need to move over.  But, a longtime friend said to me recently, “It’s so great to see how much you are enjoying that beautiful new home of yours.” And he’s right.

I’ve actually caught Super Tall Guy with smiles on his face!

Reckless Love

(Verse 1)
Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me
You have been so, so good to me
Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me
You have been so, so kind to me
(Chorus)
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
Oh, it chases me down, fights ‘til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine
I couldn’t earn it, I don’t deserve it, still You give Yourself away
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
(Verse 2)
When I was Your foe, still Your love fought for me
You have been so, so good to me
When I felt no worth, You paid it all for me
You have been so, so kind to me
(Bridge)
There’s no shadow You won’t light up
Mountain You won’t climb up
Coming after me
There’s no wall You won’t kick down
Lie You won’t tear down
Coming after me
(Reckless Love: Written by Cory Asbury, Caleb Culver, and Ran Jackson)

 

We sang this song at church this morning. It is currently my favorite praise song. And it is one I really needed after dealing with Super Tall Guy’s latest “rage” fit yesterday in which quite a bit of anything that was not nailed down went flying. We even hit a new level – the next door neighbor who absolutely never talks, came out of her house and grumbled, “What in the world is going on?” Sigh….

But as we sang this morning, I realized that while this song was written about God’s incredible love of His children, it could so easily describe in a very imperfect way my relationship with my boys.

When they were infants – before they spoke a word – I would sing over them as I rocked them to sleep. (While I did not carry them in my body, their birth mother breathed life into them before they ever took a breath.)

When Super Tall Guy is in a rage and we are squared off foe to foe….my love fights for him. Fights to have him calm down. Fights for him to know that I love him despite the ugliness. Fights for him to know that I will be there with open arms when this hurricane ends. When he weeps in sadness and feels unworthy, I wrap around him in love. I pay such a price in providing for the boys, not just in material things, but in time and worry and stress and endless energy.

And should anything ever happen to my boys, I will always come after them. I will light up the world for them to see more clearly through the darkness that might threaten to overwhelm them. I will climb any mountain for them if they wander away. I will tear down any wall to free them. There’s no lie that the world could tell them about their brown skin or their worthiness or that they might tell themselves in self-doubt that I wouldn’t tear down.

And despite all their grumblings about how mean I am or how other families are so much better, I truly am trying to be good to them and kind to them. I would leave the ninety-nine, I would leave anything I had to for my children.

I am a failure every single day at this parenting gig. I want to do so much better. I get down on myself. But then I am reminded of the intense love I have for these three incredible boys. The absolutely overwhelming love. The never-ending love. The reckless love. Unconditional love. No matter what they are doing. No matter how many times they have ignored me or disobeyed. No matter how many mistakes they have made. No matter what, it is an overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love that tears up my heart and drains tears down my cheeks as I stand there singing.  And in those moments, I know that if I feel this passion for my boys….how much more does a Perfect God love each and every one of us. How much more does He breathe into us and come after us when we wander? How much more does He ache when we disobey, but has already paid the ransom? How much more overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love does He give?

Click on the album cover below and listen to reckless love….

 

Moments of Silence

I have a new car. Another minivan. I laugh, “This is my last minivan. When it dies….I finally get MY car!” (Mr. Ornery promises to buy me a pink Lamborghini!) The last minivan decided to die a little before I was ready for it but this one better give me another ten years; ten years for the last little guy to get out of high school!

Farewell to the blue van that holds so many memories.

Farewell to the scratches and dents from boys’ misdirected emotions.

Farewell to whatever smell that was that was never going to come out.

Farewell to the stress of not knowing just exactly when after 150,000 miles it was going to konk out!

As with any new car, I now have the “gift” of Sirius XM. For two whole months. I’m trying to make the most of it. One of the channels I’m surprisingly enjoying the most (until I realized that they repeat content some) is “LaughUSA.” It hit me that I just wasn’t getting enough laughs in my life and this puts a smile on my face more frequently.

Recently, one of the comedians was ribbing with some of his audience. He joked about a man having a “worn-out face” from his marriage and divorce and kids. He retorts, “Look how great I look. I’m 64 and no wife or kids. I have something all of you want…..silence.” I paused. He was right. He had silence.

“Are these two yours?” she inquired genuinely.

“Uh, yes,” I hesitantly replied.

“Bless you.” The teacher overseeing “younger siblings” during the parent open house at the middle school shook her head. “You have your hands full! They are delightful, but…”

I get that a lot.  “Yes, pray for me,” I reply. “They are non-stop!”

I wouldn’t change this parenting gig for the world. But every once in awhile I could use just a little bit of silence. It’s what causes me to “need” to stay up for an hour or two after the kids fall asleep so I can recharge with my silence (ie, midnight or later). It causes me to grab my laptop and hide in my bedroom on the weekend for a moment of silence. It leads me to announce, “I’m taking the dog for a walk,” and scuttle out for a loop around our community as often as I can get away with it – silence.

And, it has led me to be okay with planning a trip to Croatia at the end of this month to spend a week in a villa with a friend and her friends…in the hopes of finding silence. We all know how crazy September is. The month where everyone who ever wanted to do anything, but wasn’t going to plan it for August vacation month, has now scheduled their events. The month when kids are returning to school and while they are in a “honeymoon” period of little homework or studying, the parent is intensely trying to figure out their schedules and how to keep up with this new routine. The month when the school honeymoon ends and behavioral slips are sent home, tests are scheduled, and everyone’s stress rises. The month when my work has ramped up, creating early mornings and late nights.

So, it just seemed right to say “yes” to a friend when she asked (and begged politely) me to join her. I never thought of going to Croatia, but I was hooked as soon as I spent some time on Google looking at the photos of beautiful water.  I’m not sure what my expectations are. I’m not sure how this introvert will connect with a group of people I’ve not met yet. I’m not sure if my saintly mother is going to regret her “willingness” to watch my boys for eight days. I’m not sure if my boys are going to spend the eight glorious days trying to get away with anything they can at home and school.

But I’m pretty sure that I’m going to find a few moments of silence.

And that will be beautiful.

The Master Plan….

I strum my fingers together and smile devilishly. An unexpected plan has come together this summer – “practice” camp.

We stood at the registration table on Sunday afternoon. Nine-year-old Mr. Ornery was unusually subdued as they searched for his name on the list. Beside him and slightly in front of him, the Little Guy bounced up and down and tried to answer any question with as much true or somewhat-true information as he could. The auburn-haired woman peered over her dark glasses and said, “Ah, are you staying for mini-camp?”

“Mini-camp?” I queried.

“Oh, yes,” she proceeded. “In addition to Kids Camp, we’re also running mini-camp this week. How old is he?”

“Seven.”

“Great. And where do you live?” she asked as her brain clearly contemplated her next question. Thankfully she held in the “Why don’t you just run on home and pack him up,” and instead said, “When you get home, go online and register him. Then bring him here Wednesday night.”

Wednesday night? Both my “young” guys in camp at the same time?!? I filled out that online application immediately, followed by mad texting and emailing to see which friends I could gather for my two glorious nights of “limited” kid responsibility (the twelve-year-old fends for himself pretty well these days).

For days it was nonstop questions. “Has my flashlight arrived from Amazon yet?” “Is it Wednesday yet?” “When do we go?” “Will you miss me?” “Did the mail come yet with the flashlight?” “How about my sleeping bag?”

He fell asleep on the short trip up to camp. Our car was greeted by two very enthusiastic camp counselors who had been his summer day camp counselors. They screamed his name and rushed to open the door, slathering him in hugs and kisses. The other counselors stared. This kid is going to be just fine with these young mother hens all over him.

As we started up the path to the office to register, I spied Mr. Ornery leaving the pool area. He saw me and came running over for a wet tight hug. “I’m having a great time. Love you. See you later,” and off he went waving the love-you sign behind him. My eyes welled. I had been worried that I’d arrive to find an unhappy little man ready to pack up and go home.My heart though was hoping he would be enjoying it and have the full camp experience. Thankfully, this little clown seems to have made some friends and found his own space. I just hope the presence of the Little Guy won’t be too disruptive. The Little Guy commands an audience. He smiles and people melt. I had checked that Mr. Ornery wanted him to come, but I’m still thinking that the stories should be interesting.

And so… I drove off….in a quiet car….praying blessings upon them for peace and safety and friendships and a deepening devotion.

And thinking – “Now, my young padawans, as you graduate from mini-camp and one-week camp this year….the “secret” plan is “Summer’s Best Two Weeks” next year!”

Did you catch that?

TWO WEEKS!

This might not go completely according to plan. The report from Super Tall Guy in the weeks after his camp experience was that he didn’t like it too much. He was bothered by a set of brothers in his cabin who apparently had a lot of brotherly “bickering” and overall seemed pretty tired by the constant activity level. (The lack of any screen and internet might also have contributed his unhappiness….But we’re going to keep working on the importance of screen-free weeks and finding an “away” experience during those two weeks!).

And, of course, my two days “off” didn’t go completely as planned. The irony of parenting is that just when you are free from the responsibility of the daily grind of caring for the younger two, the typically-independent eldest develops a fever of 102….and so I am still “needed”!

Next summer….

*ps – I miss these guys terribly, but am so proud of their bravery in stepping out a bit on their own.

Delivered: My First “Summer Camper”

I sat at the pool today ….a blank laptop screen in front of me…reflecting on a blank mind with nothing to say….until I left a piece of my heart…..at a summer camp….in a cabin with five other boys, ….and a counselor named Lyvth.

Super Tall Guy went to this camp in October for two nights with his fifth-grade class. He had a great time. He and his best friend decided they wanted to go for a week in the summer. I am hoping that they have a great time again.

It was a tough weekend leading up to it. The poor guy had some GI upset which mercifully resolved. Then we had the suspense of his friend’s baseball tournament. Drop off times were from 4-6 pm. The baseball game was at one. If they won, he would have another game and then not go to camp until the next morning. Super Tall Guy was reluctant to go to camp without his buddy. I tried explaining the importance of that first night. You are going to hear all the rules. You pick your beds in the cabin. You meet your counselor. Other kids are new too. It’s the time to get settled in together. If you wait for the morning, you will miss some important things.

He was not swayed. He needed his friend. It was too stressful to think about being there alone.

Thankfully, the team lost and their tournament ended. We made it to camp at 5:30 and they got the last two bunks side by side.

B’s mom and I helped them make their beds. We took the mandatory photos. We awkwardly stood around. The counselor gracefully exited for good-byes. I sent the “annoying” younger brothers outside for a few minutes. I leaned over to Super Tall Guy, kissed the top of his head and said, “I love you.” “Leave,” he replied. Yes, that’s my boy.

We stood outside the cabin for a minute. I swallowed my heart skip and quieted the tears that threatened. My eldest was in a cabin and I was leaving him. This time he had one friend and a “village” of about fifty other boys to meet. Instead of stories about classmates keeping him up all night, he’ll have stories of five other boys he’s going to get to know, some of whom were returning for the third or fourth time. Instead of teachers and school counselor watching over him, he’ll be on his own to remember the bug spray (I’m pretty sure B will be better at remembering it and reminding him!), to figure out where he should be and when, and to get to sleep. Instead of being surrounded by people who know him, he’s going to be on his own negotiating his stance and emotions and behaviors.

Lyvth seemed like a really great guy in the two minutes I saw him. The returning campers had great rapport with him. He looked like he was going to be fun. I’m entrusting my son to him.

Most days, Super Tall Guy drives me crazy. He pushes all my buttons. He argues with 99.9% of what I ask of him.

And yet, he holds a pretty big chunk of my heart.

Which is now 20 miles away….

For the next five days….

But, since there were three boys chattering happily (and occasionally unhappily) in the back of the van as we drove home, there wasn’t much mental space to think about it.

Now, at 7:30, I sit at the pool again. The pizza is delivered. The beer is cold. The heart is full. And I’m praying God’s blessings on the boys.

I am happy for Super Tall Guy.

I sure hope he’s happy too.