Do you ever have a parenting idea that seems completely brilliant? Like, so brilliant that you are amazed at your own ingenuity and marvel at your heretofore unseen-in-the-world mothering skills? And then you find yourself sitting in your car, after driving 97 miles in one afternoon, sharing room temperature chicken fingers from your child’s lunchbox with your dog, (which is way grosser than cold chicken fingers. There is something inherently disturbing about meat that has retained its warmth after 12 hours in a thermos) and you realize that instead of brilliant, you’re actually an idiot? Or is that just me?
Though I am very protective of the time of my friends and family, and careful to not infringe on their schedules, I do not apply the same consideration to myself. In fact, I have a tendency to over-schedule myself so often that this past week alone, I found myself loudly suggesting, to no one in particular, that I need the ability to bend space and time to conform to my needs.
Whilst in the midst of one of the days that all blur together into a single amalgam of driving, preparing meals that can be eaten in the car, driving, dropping kids at various locations, driving, and eating warm fruit snacks that have been passed over for nine weeks because kids over the age of 10 don’t really want to whip out a bag of organic bunny-shaped confections in front of a lunchroom full of other post-elementary school kids, I bumped into a friend. She listened to me relay my plans for that day in a semi-catatonic tone and said, “You need to learn one word. No.”
Of course, she is right. I should tell my kids that life is about making hard choices. I should let them know now, that you can’t do all of the things, all of the time. I should make it clear that my time is valuable and cannot be gobbled up in such a way that the rest of our lives suffer. I should set some guidelines for the number of hours they can commit to, outside of school. I should learn to say no.
But I won’t.
My husband and I chose to homeschool our kids before they could crawl. I did a lot of reading on education, play, learning and childhood. We made many decisions that resulted in our kids doing a lot of things outside the norm. From full days of art education to year-round survival training in the snow, rain, and burning sun — all before their 10th birthdays — we strove to provide them with a plethora of experiences. We wanted them to discover things that they loved and how can one learn to love something that one has never had the opportunity to try?
While I still strongly stand behind this principle, perhaps even more so now that they’re older, I’m starting to think that my implementation may be flawed. Because car-dinner shouldn’t even be a thing and perhaps a child should not be running from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. unless they were fathered by Mr. Incredible. (At this point, my husband would love to make a comment, but I will spare us all.)
In our society, we simultaneously reprimand parents for the over-scheduling of their kids (my God, does she really need to dance AND run track?) while also yelling that this generation is coddled and weak (why don’t these lazy kids go get a job like I did when I was six?). If your kid has not enough on their plate, of course they will not get into a good college and will spend the rest of their life living in your basement, never bearing you a single grandchild, because you suck as a parent. If they have a full plate, they will surely burn out and need a long stint in a psychiatric ward to deal with the undue burden which you have so unjustly forced upon them, because you suck as a parent.
Instead of dealing with the bi-polarity of all of that, I made a decision to let my kids try whatever the heck they would like to try. If we can afford it and we can possibly make it fit in our schedule (even if it means a little trans-dimensional shuffling), I say, “OK.” Six to eight teenaged boys who will require nourishment at my house one to two times every week? Fantastic. Theater programs that require the same time commitment as studying for the LSATS? Of course. Fifteen hours of varying after-school activities that require creative meal engineering (because that sounds way better than car-dinner)? As long as the grades stay high and the internal drive is there, why not?
However, I also have tremendous respect for the parents who say, “Hell no.” There is no glory in not setting foot inside your own home during daylight hours. At no point do I feel superior to the mom sitting at home, peeling cucumbers with her kid as they prepare dinner and chat about the day. In fact, that sounds pretty damn good.
We are all in this together, people. We all want good, decent, hardworking kids who we can send out in the world, feeling proud of the people they are now and the people they will be tomorrow, no matter how we choose to go about getting them there (but I could definitely use a flying car, if you happen upon one).
There is a very small window of time in our lives when the world is our oyster. Once we move into real life, we have responsibilities that do not always allow us the freedom to try new things, like Shakespearian acting or rock climbing. Plus, our frontal lobe is fully developed, so we know better. If nothing else, my kids will learn the perils of being over-scheduled. Because when you’re stuck in the car and start eyeing the soggy potato chip at the bottom of the bag and only pass it up because you are unable to identify the source of the sogginess, you may have to take a hard look at your life’s choices. Until then, I’ll take the advice of a guy who did all right for himself — “Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt” says William Shakespeare in Measure for Measure.
So here’s to all of us parents — those who say no and those who aren’t able to respond because they had to go pick up a kid from robotics.
All of my automobile-hours have given me time to think about ways to save time (yes, I understand that that is ridiculous). I’ve started preparing overnight muesli for quick and healthy car meals. This way, no one (i.e. me) has to search under the seats in the car for the almond I dropped last week(ish).
I’ve modified a few different recipes to come up with one that three-fourths of us really like (because there’s always one).
Ingredients:
5 8-ounce jelly jars
2-1/2 cups rolled or quick oats
15 ounces coconut milk (You can use any milk you like and adjust up or down, depending on how liquid-y you want it. This amount makes a thick, cereal-like meal.)
1 apple, diced
5 tsp. chia seeds
5 tsp. maple syrup
2 1/2 tsp. cinnamon (optional)
5 tbsp. unsweetened, shredded coconut
Toppings: your favorite fresh and/or dried fruit, nuts, etc.
Instructions Place half cup oats in each jelly jar. Top with 1 tsp. chia seeds, 1 tsp. syrup, 1/2 tsp. cinnamon, 1 tbsp. coconut and about 1/5 of the diced apple. Pour 3 ounces of milk into each container. Cover and shake. Refrigerate at least three hours or leave them in there until you’re running out the door and just need something so you don’t all starve to death. Before serving, top with your favorite fruits and nuts…preferably not ones you found on the floor.
