by Heather Plett | May 8, 2006 | Uncategorized
Sometimes, it feels like the only thing I say to my kids is “no”. “No you can’t buy a gameboy.” “No, we’re not going to the store so you can foolishly spend all your birthday money.” “No, we’re not renting a movie tonight.” “No I’m not buying a bag of chips.” “No, we’re not going to a restaurant for supper tonight.” “No we’re not driving to your soccer game when it’s within biking distance.” “No you can’t take your tamagatchi to church.” “No we’re not going to 7-11 for a slurpee tonight.”
It feels heavy and, at times, curmudgeonly – like I’m forever denying them of their wants and desires. I know they’re happy and well provided for, but I get tired of the endless “wants” and the endless stream of “no’s”. Some of the parenting books say that you should avoid the word “no” and try to replace it with less negative words like “maybe later” or “I’ll think about it”. But that doesn’t really satisfy – it usually means that their requests just get prolonged even longer until they get the eventual “no”. I prefer to let them know up front that there’s no chance they’ll get what they’re asking for. If I’m open to negotiation, I let them know, but usually I reinforce the fact that “no means no”.
I don’t like it, and I wish that they would ask for less things that I have to deny them of, but then I think – perhaps it is “by my no’s that they shall know me”. Perhaps the no’s are important. Perhaps this is one of the ways they’ll learn what I stand for – that I (I should say “we” since Marcel is in this too) don’t believe in endless streams of plastic junk, electronic games that destroy their social connections, too much junk food, instant gratification whenever they have a hankerin’ for something new, burning too much fossil fuel when it’s easily avoidable, and spending too much money on ourselves when there are so many people with less.
I remember an Anne Lammott story about her son, when she commented that he just seemed so “entitled” – like he assumed that he would always get what he wanted and that someone would provide for him. We’re trying hard not to raise “entitled” kids. Trust me, they don’t live in abject poverty (we DO occasionally treat them to junk food, they have lots of toys, they get slurpees on the weekend, and once every six months or so, we eat in a restaurant). But sometimes I really have to be determined to stand my ground and not give in to the requests, especially if it’s something that is easy to give them (but might not be a good idea).
Take the other night, for example – Nikki was determined to spend some of her birthday money (which she doesn’t spend foolishly, by the way – her birthday was in February, and she still has most of it) on a Webkinz. She wanted me to take her to the store THAT NIGHT. I wasn’t opposed to what she wanted to buy, but I just didn’t think she needed to expect instant gratification. So I made her wait until the weekend. It resulted in tears, and part of me thought – good grief, why wouldn’t I just give in and take her? I could even bike to the store with her, so it wouldn’t mean burning gas and it wouldn’t cost ME anything. But I stood my ground, because it was the principle of it that mattered. It doesn’t kill them to wait sometimes.
I have to admit – they don’t whine and complain a lot about the things they don’t have, even though most of their school friends have A LOT more than they do. So maybe we’re doing alright. Maybe they’ll turn out to be well adjusted kids with healthy attitudes toward material things. Maybe they’ll even be inspired to live more radically than we do – choosing a deeper level of simplicity to live out their belief systems. Who knows?
For now I’ll keep saying no when I have to. But I won’t say no all the time, because sometimes it’s nice to surprise them with a “yes”.
by Heather Plett | May 4, 2006 | Uncategorized
Are there REALLY professional competitive eaters? And they have an international federation?? Huh?
If this 4 year old child can run 65 kilometres, why does MY 4 year old child whine about walking 2 blocks to the store?
Does anyone REALLY need a vibrating razor blade with five blades? (Wince. Sorry Marcel 🙂
Snakes on a blog? Huh? People obsessed with a movie (Snakes on a Plane) that hasn’t even come out yet? Nothing better to do with their time?
Is disposophobia for real? Are there really people living with that much junk? Aren’t you glad you’re not one of them?
If I get one of these kitschy Jesus figurines, will it wash all our sports worries away?
Why do so many spammers think I need to enlarge my manhood? And what’s up with the green tea lately? If I had a large “manhood” and drank more green tea, would the spammers leave me alone?
If there are professional eaters and disposophobics, isn’t it pretty clear that we have an overconsumption problem in North America?
by Heather Plett | May 3, 2006 | Uncategorized
Yesterday I took myself on a date. Partly because I needed some time and space to prepare my talk for church on Sunday, and partly because I’d promised myself I would do it before my 40th birthday (see 40 days ‘til 40), I went on a personal retreat. Villa Maria is a beautiful Catholic retreat centre in lush green park-like surroundings along the Red River. For a small donation, they give you a room with a bed, a desk, a sink, and a big window with an amazing view of trees, grass, and lots of dandelions. And they feed you lunch and let you sip tea in their dining room.
I’ve done this before, and each time I do I think “man, that was so good, I really need to do this on an annual basis”, and then I get busy again, and suddenly realize it’s been a few years since the last time.
What do I do on a personal retreat? Well, for starters, I sit. And then I sit some more. I meditate. I wander around the grounds. I sit in the grass and write in my journal. I listen to frogs. I watch the grass wave in the breeze. I meander past the stations of the cross. I let the sun shine on my face. I read my Bible. I read a few chapters of a good book. I visit the chapel and sit some more. I do some centering prayer. I contemplate. I write poetry. I eat lunch alone and stare out the window at dandelions. I drink tea in the afternoon and talk to one of the friendly nuns. I think. I rest. I let time tick by. I write in my journal again. I entertain creative thoughts. I get refreshed.
Sounds delightful, doesn’t it? If you haven’t done one before, I highly recommend it. If you’ve done one before but haven’t found the time lately, sit down with your calendar, block out a day, and git yo’ ass to a retreat centre.
That perfect tranquillity of life, which is nowhere to be found but in retreat, a faithful friend and a good library. – Aphra Behn
by Heather Plett | May 2, 2006 | Uncategorized
Nobody told me about this. Nobody warned me that sometimes parenting could feel like you’d yanked your heart out of your chest, tied it to your arm, and let the world whack it with an axe. Nobody took me aside and said “hey, sometimes, you’ll be sitting on the sidelines, watching them play soccer (or baseball, or even piano), and the intense feelings it will evoke in you will make you want to run away and never watch a soccer game again.” (Okay, so maybe they told me and I didn’t really hear them.)
It catches you by surprise, that intensity of feelings. Every failure they make dredges up your own childhood failings. Every time the rather agressive coach hollers at them because they’re not playing their position or they’re not aggressive enough, you feel it deep in your hidden child-heart. And when the coach sends them into goal, and you know with every fibre of your being, that they are not ready to play goal – not ready to get in front of the ball with any type of bravado on their first game – you sit on the edge of your seat praying the ball will stay on the other side of the field. Then the ball goes in – the star player on the other team kicks it past your daughter – and the failure of your child becomes your own failure. Every mistake you’ve ever made becomes compounded in that one moment and you feel like somehow your own mistakes are manifesting themselves onto your child.
Suddenly, you’re back in the ball diamond at Arden Park, you’re in the outfield, you’ve missed the ball, and the opposing team scores a home run. The mean girl in centre field yells at you for missing the ball, and you’re sure you’re the worst failure on the team. You go home crying at the end of the game, and your mom says you don’t have to go back for the next game, but because you’re more stubborn than that, you’re determined not to let the mean girl win. You go back, and you try again, even though you know you’ll never be the star player on the team and you know there will be more mean girls to point out your failures.
And then, thirty years later, when you think you’ve almost grown out of those moments of self-doubt, it all comes back to you like a tsunami wave. You watch them – your children – with such intense love and connection that you feel their hurt almost more deeply than if it had been you standing in that goal, watching the ball fly by. You feel it and you want to fight the tears for them. You want to take the shame you’re sure they’re carrying – shame that they’ve let their teammates down.
I dreaded the car ride home tonight – dreaded her tears and self-doubt, dreaded her proclamation that she would never play soccer again, dreaded the feable attempts I knew I’d have to make to comfort her. But then, she bounded off the field, smiled a half-smile, and said simply “I thought I’d try goal, but I don’t really like it. I don’t think I’ll play goal next time.” That was the end. No tears, no intensity. She’s a trooper, my strong, beautiful, normally intense Nikki.
It’s probably a good thing nobody told me about this. I might have baled out before it began, and then I would have missed the moments of redemption and triumph, when you see their incredible character and strength shine through even their moments of failure, and you know they’ll be alright. Better than alright. You know they’ll be incredible.
by Heather Plett | May 1, 2006 | Uncategorized
I had a speaking engagement in a small prairie town yesterday – similar to the small prairie town I grew up in. (I was in Boissevain, for those who know Manitoba.) I love living in the city, and I don’t ever plan to go back to the country, but sometimes I get a little nostalgic when I drive through a small town, see the old school, old church, and the little country store at the centre of town. The church I spoke in was a beautiful old stone structure with stained glass windows and a magnificent steeple. I’m sure sometimes it frustrates the locals to be in such an old building that needs so much tender loving care, but when I visit a place like that, I’m always so glad there are people who put their hearts into maintaining it.
When we arrived at our destination, we drove onto the farmyard of the people who were hosting us for supper. The woman came out of the house and told us her husband was in the shed, helping their nine year old daughter clear a corner of the shed so she could convert it into a summer playroom for herself. We wandered out to the shed and found them in there shuffling things about. The young girl had salvaged a set of old school house benches for her playroom corner. Again, I got a feeling of nostalgia. Sometimes I’m a little sad that my kids can’t grow up on a farmyard where there is so much space for exploring and building and playing. (D&L, expect our visit this summer!)
On Saturday, because we’d gotten an insurance rebate and had a little extra spending money, we took the girls out for supper. Of course, they probably would have been satisfied with Joey’s Only or the Olive Garden, but I was determined to make it a little more interesting. Since we can only afford to go out for a meal once every six months or so, I wasn’t going to waste our opportunity on some chain restaurant. We drove out of the city and ended up at Pineridge Hollow, a wonderful character place out in the woods. It was everything I’d hoped for and more – a nice evening with the family, AMAZING food, a pleasant environment, a lovely drive out to the country, and even a few deer spottings on the way. Oh, and of course, there was that inevitable restaurant moment when Maddie charms complete strangers and makes us wonder when she’ll end up going home with a new family.
Julie had her first soccer game yesterday. They say there’s something about a man in uniform that makes a woman’s heart skip a beat, but I say there’s something about a kid in uniform. My kids aren’t really big into competitive sports yet (I doubt whether they ever will be), but I do enjoy seeing them all dressed up in their soccer outfits. Look for pictures soon. I didn’t get to watch much of the game (because of the speaking engagement I mentioned earlier), but this morning I got the report that they’d won.
Nikki is getting SO tall. She stood next to me in church, and when I put my arm around her, I was caught by surprise how high my arm had to reach. She’s nearly as tall as I am. Seems like the little girl has disappeared and been replaced by this maturing young woman.
The girls and I visited the annual Children’s Hospital book sale – a booklover’s dream. It was the last day of the sale, so we got some great bargains – a whole bag of books for Nikki and Julie for only $5. (That was a HEAVY backpack to carry home from the mall!) I was hoping that would last them most of the summer, but since Julie has already read 2 of them, she thinks it won’t even last her UNTIL summer. Good thing the library is within biking distance.
We attended my nephew’s first communion service on Saturday. The service was all in French, so the content was lost on me. But despite that, if it hadn’t been for three bored children with me in the pew, I think I would have had quite a worshipful experience. Our church meets in an old supermarket (in other words, it lacks in worshipful ambiance), so sometimes I quite enjoy a visit to a grand cathedral with high ceilings, stained glass windows, stations of the cross, art work, etc. What I particularly loved were the magical moments the sunlight would stream through unseen stained glass windows high above the stage and cast an interesting pattern on the wall and the statue of Christ. Maddie was quite captivated with it too, and kept exclaiming each time the clouds would move away from the sun and the light would appear. The other moments I loved were the moments when the old woman behind us, who caught on I couldn’t speak French, would occasionally lean forward to explain something to me in the most friendly, grandmotherly voice.
Today is my Brother and Sister-in-law’s anniversary. Happy Anniversary B&S! Wow! Twenty-four years! I remember the day well – my sister and I wore yellow frilly floral floor-length dresses (a vision of loveliness!), and we were the candle-lighters. As I ascended the stage, I tripped on the hem of my skirt and had visions of burning the church down with the candle I was carrying. Fortunately, I was able to catch myself before I fell. At the time, B&S seemed so OLD. I was almost sixteen, and they were the ripe old age of 20 and 21. Now I think – what KIDS they were! I’m so glad they’ve had a successful marriage for so many years, because my sister-in-law is one of my favourite people in the whole world. (AP – thanks for forgiving me for insulting you when Technobrother brought you home to the farm 🙂
It is also my Mom’s anniversary. It’s rather surreal having a brother married twenty-four years and a mother who’s been married only one. It’s been a whirlwind year for mom, and it’s nice to see her so happy. They’re off to Holland soon – she finally gets to do a little more of the traveling she always longed to do (yes, I inherited my wanderlust, as did the rest of my siblings).
That should be enough random bits to feed your curious mind (and perhaps to bore you to pieces). And, in case you need a little visual random bit, here’s a lovely, flattering picture of me speaking in church. The not-so-strategically placed cordless mic box nicely compliments my frumpy housewife look. (Oops – Blogger doesn’t want to cooperate, so you’ll have to wait for the picture.)
