Family

Preparing for College

By / January 26, 2012 / 4 Comments

Kiki came home from school with four colorful brochures. They extolled the virtues of an art college with campuses in Georgia, Hong Kong, and France. Kiki flipped through the pages and rattled on about how good it would be for her to get out where she can really be grown up and how nice it would be to surround herself with other students who loved art the way she did. My response was to ask the question pounding in my brain.
“How much does this school cost?” The response, $30,000 per year, led us into a discussion about cost and benefit. Then into talking, once again, about advantages that are available to Kiki because of the quantity of working artists with whom we have business contacts. Then I looked over at Kiki. She was closed down, clutching the brochures to her chest. I remembered the light in her eyes when she’d first unfolded them. Howard and I back-tracked.
“Show me the page about the horses again.” I said. Kiki flipped open the brochure and described the things that the college representative had explained to her AP Art class. This time I listened.

Now is the time for Kiki to be excited about the possibilities for her future. She needs to picture dozens of paths for her life. There is no choosing to be done yet, just the growing process of possibility. All the years before this Kiki’s life has been dictated by others. Adults have guided her path, told her where to go and what to learn. The realization that she can choose for herself is both exhilarating and frightening. The very process of picturing herself in Georgia, or Hong Kong, or France changes the way she thinks about who she can be. Next year, after applications, acceptances, and rejections, will be plenty of time for us to talk about specifics and logistics. Then Kiki will be ready to begin narrowing down and weighing which path is most likely to take her to a destination that she wants.

This year is also a learning process for Howard and I. We’re beginning to imagine a future in which our oldest is launched out into the world. Rather than just generally knowing that at some point college expenses will come, we’re beginning to view our financial picture to evaluate what is possible. We have to make careful decisions about the level of financial support we are able to extend, because whatever we do for Kiki will set a precedent for three children to follow. We need to choose something sustainable across four college educations, some of which will over lap each other. A friend has decided to sever all financial ties once her kids hit college. Other friends support their children all the way through. We don’t know what our balance needs to be, but we are beginning to picture possible choices.

All three of us are learning about the emotional processes involved with the launch into the college years. For one thing, we need to let Kiki dream as big and as far as she wants this year. A week after the brochures, Kiki returned to saying that perhaps she wants to go to the local college and live at home to save money. She is alternately thrilled by adventure and wants to stay comfortably close. Sometimes the impending application process makes her stressed, other times she is calm and confident.

We try to stay in “Calm and Confident” land as much as possible, but there is so much frantic urgency regarding college applications. School teachers, counselors, and other advisers all hand out lists. They give long lectures on what colleges look for. Students and parents end up with the impression that everything must be started right now and done exactly right. The truth is that anyone who and figure out how to pay for college education can have one. The high pressure is only necessary if the student hopes to enter a career for which an Ivy League college is required. Along Kiki’s educational path we’ve made decisions based on her current educational needs first and how it will look on a college application second. It is possible that will affect which colleges she is accepted to attend. I still think all the choices were the right ones.

We attended a scholar’s night which had sessions about standardized testing, college applications, financial aid, and a host of other post-high school possibilities. I noticed that the representative of one college pointed at the list of recommended classes and emphasized that they were not required for acceptance. He told us that GPA, SAT/ACT scores, and the quantity of AP classes had more effect than whether a student had two years of language classes. He said that the recommended list was simply there because it was this sort of a balanced academic curriculum that was most likely to help students be prepared for the sorts of work they would be expected to do in college. Yet if you talk to the average school counselor, they will get quite intense about the need to get every class on that recommended list. It is fascinating how the drive to give students every possible advantage creates stress where it need not exist.

It helps me see that the application process is actually a useful tool for students. If you are not accepted at a particular school, it is possible that you simply aren’t prepared for it anyway. It takes a certain sort of academic focus to thrive at Harvard, and it may be a kindness to keep out the ones who are not ready. I find this thought calming. If Kiki is accepted at a college, it is because the registrars believe that the education paths we have chosen have suited her to succeed at their school. We’ll continue to make our best choices at every step, because that is all we can do.

Our next college preparation step is almost upon us. Registration for her senior year will start in a week or so. We’ll have one last opportunity to choose classes which will be on her transcripts for college applications. We’re also beginning to look up college websites and request more information. Standardized testing looms as well. Each of these things is new, but none are worth the level of stress which is often attached. Yes they have an effect, but none is the make-or-break point for her entire future. As long as we can continue to see that, we’ll do fine. In the meantime, we’ll be flipping through more brochures and picturing what is possible.

The Bucket of Fish

By / January 21, 2012 / 8 Comments

I am glad to see Link developing interests which take him outdoors and away from his beloved video games. I am incredibly grateful to his scout leaders who aid him in developing those interests. However the particular bent of those interests resulted in Link coming home from today’s ice fishing trip with a dozen perch in a bucket. He held the bucket up proudly for me to examine. I looked at the fish in the bottom and then one of them twitched.
“They’re not dead.” I yelped.
“Yeah.” said Link. “Perch can live a long time out of the water.”
We placed his bucket of fish outside the back door and then listened while Link regaled us with his adventures. I love listening to Link talk when he is enthusiastic. His typically short sentences lengthen out and his eyes are bright. He’d had a great time and arrived home with a sense of accomplishment. The experience of fishing had been good for him. After he went downstairs to shower, I peeked out the window at the bucket of fish. One of them twitched again.

We are carnivores here at the Tayler house. I do not think it is a bad thing for all of us to confront the fact that eating meat means that an animal had to die for our dinner. Buying prepared meat from a grocery store disconnects us from that. The bucket of fish forced us to face it. Someone was going to have to gut those fish. Looking out the window at the fish, I admit that there was a strong temptation to “forget” about them until they needed to be trashed. However I ccouldn’t think of anything more disrespectful to life than to catch fish, let them die in a bucket, and then throw them out. If Link intended to pursue fishing, then he needed to understand all of the consequences of it. He needed to be willing to prepare and eat the fish he caught. If he was not, then he needed to not go fishing.

The trouble was that not one of us is experienced with gutting fish. They are slippery and injury is a real possibility if proper technique is not used. I couldn’t teach proper technique unless I knew what it was and practiced it enough times. I was going to have to gut some fish first before I could teach Link. There is a reason that my kids have never been fishing, despite the fact that they’ve all said they’d like to go. I’ve chosen to arrange my life so that gutting fish is not something I need to do. But the bucket of fish was already present, right outside the back door. Something had to be done. YouTube demonstrated for me. Howard sharpened a knife. He arranges his life to avoid fish gutting too. I was the one unwilling to waste the bucket of fish, so I was the one who got to wield the knife. The rest was me learning through practical experience. I had Link watch. Next time he’ll need to help.

All of the kids were a little bit fascinated by this process. They were interested in the fish and the ickiness of the guts. On some level I was too. There were also several levels on which I was disturbed by the entire thing. It was the same set of feelings I had years ago when we dissected frogs in Biology class. I worried that the process might prove traumatic to one of the kids. I fended off my own disturbance and their potential trauma by keeping up a running conversation about fish, biology, respecting life, and what on earth is that weird thing that just fell into the sink. Guts are very strange.

Cooking the fish was also new territory. We don’t cook fish often, particularly not small fresh water fish with tiny bones. The result was reasonably good, but picking out all the tiny bones was a fiddly process. Link liked eating the fish. This means he will not starve to death when his scout troop goes on a multi-day fishing campout this summer.

So I learned something new today. And then I showered a lot.

Snippets From This Week

By / January 15, 2012

A week or so ago I was talking to a friend of mine who was expecting her first child. I mentioned how I loved the baby years, but that I was quite happy to be done with them. Lots of people told me “enjoy it now, you’ll miss it.” My response was usually “I’m going to enjoy missing this.” And it is true. I do have some nostalgia for those baby and toddler years, but the nostalgia is light and pleasant. I have no actual desire to go back and re-live those years. Our conversation turned to talking about my current crazy schedule. As I spoke, I realized that as crazy as things are right now, they are also really good. I’ve got two teenagers and two grade school kids. The days I’m currently living are the ones that I am really going to miss someday.

I thought of it again this evening as I wrote out note cards to post on my fridge detailing the schedules for my teenagers. The new semester begins on Tuesday. Link’s schedule is no longer filled with his favorite kinds of classes. I’m going to have to pay more attention to make sure that unpleasant work gets done. Kiki will also have new classes. Patch is working his way through challenges, but we aren’t clear yet. Gleek is soaring, but there are at least four more major projects to go. I caught myself counting the months until the school year is over. Then I stopped. I don’t want to rush through this. I’ve only got a limited amount of time left with all of them living at home.
In that spirit, here are some snippets of things which happened in the past week which I was almost too busy to note.

Every night when Kiki goes to bed, the cat goes with her. In fact there is a regular ritual involving a saucer of milk and smear of butter, followed by a trip outside. Sometimes Kiki and the cat play a little chase game where Kiki peeks around the edge of the stairs until the cat dashes up at her. Other times Kiki wiggles her hand under a blanket and there is pouncing. These games produce giggles and admonitions from me to not wake up the younger kids. All these little rituals from brushing to snoozing, add to the general level of happiness around here.

When Link is bored, he sorts through his things. He makes a pile of things he does not want anymore. Most of them end up in the hands of his younger siblings. I’ve watched this process with delight and bemusement. I used to have to argue with Link over getting rid of things. They were all his treasures. It was all I could do to convince him to let go of candy wrappers. This past week he emptied out his big drawer of treasures. He finally got rid of those twisted pieces of metal that he picked up while walking home from school the year he was in third grade. Also in the pile was his treasured “Cappy” hamtaro. This was the toy so beloved by five-year-old Link that when it was lost we had to resort to ebay for a replacement. He loved it, treasured it, would not share it. Now Cappy has lost his magic and Link is ready to move on. I would feel more sorry for Cappy, except that Patch grabbed him. There are a few more years of play ahead. Link is growing tall, looking to the future, and letting childhood go. It makes me both glad and sad.

We made more progress on my office remodel this week. Because of my hurting wrist, I’ve not been able to take an active role. Instead Kiki and Link have done most of the work. Together they dismantled the shelves, helped load up for a trip to the dump, and then swept up the mess. Both of them found great satisfaction in the work. After the deconstruction, Kiki did not want to be done working. Instead she helped me box up all of the books so that they would be safe for the remainder of construction. Now my office wall is bare and ready for the next stage of the project.

The beginning of the new year brings class reassignment at church. All the kids are bumped to the next class up. The new year also means reassignment for the church teachers. Some teachers are released from teaching duty, other people are asked to take it on. This shuffling is necessary, but can be disruptive for the kids. Last year the switch was particularly difficult for Gleek. So I was pleased and delighted to realize that both Gleek’s teachers and Patch’s teachers have been moved up with their classes. My children will experience no disruption, which I view as a great blessing just now. We can continue to have church as a place of peace and save the challenges for school.

Gleek was assigned her first real research project this month. There was a long list of specific types of sources that she needed to have before assembling the project. I’ve been quite impressed with her. She’s been working a little bit every day and the project has not been onerous at all. Tomorrow we’ll assemble the final project and all will be well. I love that she has learned “a little bit every day” so young. I feel like I only learned it about four years ago.

Life of late has featured lots of sibling squabbling over video game turns. In particular, Patch and Gleek have been squabbling over whose turn it is to play minecraft. Sorting out each conflict is tiring and/or annoying, but the shapes of the conflict are comfortingly normal. These are not the sounds of huge emotional traumas which I must agonize over and resolve. It is mere sibling bickering, part of the music of family.

Life is good even though it is crazy, busy, and often hard.

Requiring Kids to Do Hard Things

By / January 11, 2012 / 5 Comments

The time you face something harder than you’ve ever done before is the time when you either crumble in despair or discover that you are stronger than you thought you could be.

The thing no one ever told me before I became a parent is that sometimes I would have to be the one who was inflicting the hard things on my own children. I faced it first when my two month old baby girl had to be vaccinated. I helped hold her down, looked into her eyes, and let the nurse stick a needle in her leg. That was not the end. Dozens of vaccinations followed and they only got harder as the children got big enough to resist. They would not have believed it, but helping with those vaccinations was every bit as hard for me as it was for them. They calmed down and were done. I stewed for days with a mix of fear, guilt, and relief. I’ve only got two 12 year booster shots to go. I rejoice at the thought.

Vaccinations are a clear case of “we must do this for your health and safety.” They are also accompanied by either a doctor or a nurse to help bolster my flagging spine. Then there are days like yesterday when I have to stand over my 8 year old son and require him to finish the work he did not do in school. It took three and a half hours to finish 18 math problems and five sentences. Less than thirty minutes was actual work, the rest was distraction and tears. When you include the two hours of classroom time he did not use, it was five hours spent on thirty minutes of work. I stood over him and tried to determine whether I was watching Can’t or Don’t Want To. In the end it was some of both. When my son stopped fighting me, we were able to identify the blockages and devised some very simple strategies which he can use next time to boost himself over. I rehearsed the strategies with him three or four times, “When you get to a word problem, skip it and complete everything else, then come back.” He rolled his eyes at me. I watched his face, unable to know whether he would actually remember. My children have amazing memories, but they do not always focus on the things I know would help them. Please let him remember, because I can not bear another afternoon like yesterday. If he comes home with his school work done, then I can know that yesterday’s hard challenges were beneficial. If he doesn’t complete his work, I have to consider whether to stay the course or to adjust my expectations.

I say I can’t bear another afternoon like yesterday. I can. I will. If I know it is right, I can deal with a lot. I can do it even if it leaves me exhausted and weepy for the rest of the evening. My fatigue is less important than doing right by my son. The part I don’t know is what kills me. Until he either steps up and becomes strong in the face of adversity, or crumples under the pressure, I can’t know whether I’m helping or hurting. During all those hours I alternately cajoled, scolded, encouraged, slathered on guilt, and extended praise to my son. Through it all I loved him. All of my words were tools focused on getting him to sit up, take control, and try. The work got done. I can only hope that he also learned lessons which can be applied to new work. The lessons were the point, not the work. If the lessons weren’t learned, we’ll have to do it all over again. The thought makes me weary.

Weary though I be, this is nowhere near the hardest thing I have ever done. I can do this.

Christmas Day 2011

By / December 25, 2011 / 2 Comments

1am on Christmas Day is too late to fix any of the Christmas planning errors I may have made during the preceding weeks. All those might-have-been trimmings and trappings circle in my brain instead of the visions of sugar plums which Clement Clark Moore assures me are what should be dancing about in there. Of course I have trouble visualizing sugar plums anyway, having never seen one. (Except that, of course, now I have, since I googled it the moment I finished typing that sentence. So now I know. I still don’t expect to be dreaming of them any time soon.)

The truth is that the best possible preparation I can make to ensure a happy Christmas day is to love and teach my children all year long. This means that whatever joys or disappointments arrive with the festivities, we’ve already got the tools and the sturdy relationships to manage. If the lack of a particular item on Christmas morning is truly traumatizing, then something far more fundamental is wrong. I know this. I believe this. I know my kids are fantastic people and that they are as much focused on the things they are giving as on the things they hope to receive. Everything is set up to be a lovely day. This does not stop me from slipping out of bed and sneaking a little bit of cash into each stocking. It is a small gesture which will bring joy tomorrow. It is worth doing even if the impulse behind it is my guilty conscience. As I said to Howard “How can it possibly be enough if I didn’t spend a month fretting over it?”

But it can. And it is. This is the secret of Christmas. It exists no matter how much time I spend creating it or trying to ignore it. This year our usual round of Christmas festivities was paused for an hour-long excursion to church. I love it when Christmas falls on Sunday for this very reason. However it does present a challenge for the youngest of my family. He did his mighty best to sit still and listen to songs about Jesus while his mind and heart were back home poking packages under the Christmas tree.

In the end my fretting was unnecessary. Each of us received pretty much exactly what the poem states:
Something you want
Something you need
Something to wear
Something to read
It is the recipe for a lovely Christmas day.

Approaching Christmas

By / December 18, 2011

“Are you ready for Christmas?” the clerk asked as he passed my assorted groceries over the scanner. It was a perfunctory question, asked merely to fill the quiet of these few minutes while we stood facing each other over a transaction. He had no time to be interested in my answer; the line behind me stretched long. It was okay. I had not time to give a full answer. My To-Do list pulled me forward into the rest of the day.
“No.” I said with a brief smile as I swiped my card. Papers exchanged, I pushed my full cart from the store.

I used to be the person who bought all her Christmas presents before Thanksgiving. The tree was up and gifts under it during the first week of December. I planned it all carefully, balancing to make sure each child would be delighted. I made sure that Christmas came to a perfectly orchestrated climax on the appointed day. The day itself was a work of art with times of excitement punctuated by good meals and pauses. I loved doing it and the process made me happy. Mostly. I stopped being that uber-organized Christmas planner because of a spectacular Christmas Day emotional crash. I’d created the perfect day and in the process completely obliterated my own experience of it. I arrived at five pm so exhausted that I could not believe it had been a good day for anyone. The Christmas process which had functioned so well when I was the mother of toddlers with lots of hands-busy-brain-free time fell apart when applied by a working mother with a mix of teenage and grade school kids. I had to change my approach to the holiday.

To approach, as a verb, means to draw near to something. An approach, as a noun, is the entryway into something else; like the front walk to a house. I had been hitting the holiday season with a huge list of things to get done before Christmas. When they were done, I could enjoy the holiday. When I switched it around in my head, I realized that all of my preparations needed to be treated as a noun, not a verb. Any architect or real estate agent can tell you that the approach to a building has a huge effect upon the people who enter it. It sets expectations for everything which will come after. All of December is an approach to Christmas. The tree decorating, shopping, gift wrapping, and concert attending are not just the overture, they are a part of the performance. When I pause to savor the doing of these things, I discover which ones I enjoy doing for their own sake, and which should probably be evicted from my holiday traditions. When Christmas day arrives, it becomes part of a larger event rather than the sole receptacle of all our expectations.

So, no, I am not ready for Christmas. I’m in the middle of it, still with a huge list of things To-Do. I am harried and hurried. I’m often overwhelmed by the things which I need to accomplish in order to not disappoint people around me. I ship packages to worried customers who need the contents for Christmas gifts. I attend school concerts and make treats for class parties. I realize that in all my shipping, I still need to acquire and send gifts to my own friends and relatives. It is a crazy, awkward approach to the holiday. And yet sometimes I watch my fingers as they carefully tape down wrapping paper. Then I know that this small act is part of the gift. I (finally) open the box containing our nativity set and look closely at the porcelain baby Jesus’ face. I light the advent candle and pause a moment to watch smoke curl off the match after I shake it out. These are all pieces of the holiday. I get half a dozen tiny moments like that in a day and I know that Christmas is all it should be.

Declaring Independence

By / December 18, 2011 / 6 Comments

Gleek’s 5th grade teacher carefully established a classroom economy at the beginning of the school year. About three weeks ago, she started to give the kids taxes. At the same time she started having them memorize the first part of the Declaration of Independence. Then she raised the taxes. She separated the students into patriots and loyalists, then she pulled spelling words from the Declaration of Independence. This week she started levying fines and applying unfair rules. Today the kids were required to recite the Declaration of Independence.

This afternoon the teacher sent around an email saying in essence “Help! Your children are wonderful and obedient. I need them to revolt and declare independence before Christmas break. Please talk to them about unfair dominion and public responsibility.”

Gleek had a hard day in class today. She wants very much to remain a loyalist, but can not help seeing that the rules have become impossible to keep. (For example: You must maintain the quality of work, but I will no longer give you supplies and you are not allowed to bring any supplies from home.) My brave girl sneaked a notebook out onto the playground and wrote a note to the principal. Tomorrow Gleek will arrive at school with a backpack full of school supplies to share. This is in direct opposition to the new “bring no supplies from home” rule. Gleek will share these supplies openly and take whatever consequences come. My little girl is learning about conscientious objection. By the end of the day tomorrow I suspect the newly independent classroom will be ready to start their own constitutional convention.

I admire the courage of this teacher to follow through on such an ambitious educational plan. It is working and these kids will never forget.

Dec 18, 2011 Update: The kids had their revolution the very next day and the unfair taxes were repealed. Gleek loves her teacher again and learning will continue after the Christmas break.

I should also note that while I truly admire this teacher and this method of teaching, it must be handled with great skill and advance forethought. It puts a big strain on both the teacher and the students because the emotions involved are real. It can go very badly. In this case it did not.

Hello Holiday To Do Lists

By / December 10, 2011

Every day has shipping in it. This will continue through the 20th. This makes me happy because sales are good. Sales mean that we’ll continue to be able to pay our colorist and pay our bills. However the heavy shipping load is wearing. I always feel like I have to ship everything as fast as possible because this package could be someone’s Christmas present.

Today featured me running to the store and picking up 14 spiral cut hams. I then drove through our neighborhood handing them over to the people who volunteered to help cook ham for the church Christmas party tonight. I have three hams to cook and later I’ll need to head over to the church to help set up. I’m also part of the clean up crew. Fortunately this party represents the last non-immediate-family holiday obligation.

I remember vividly the year when I looked at the presents under the Christmas tree and felt depressed because I knew exactly what was in every single one. The entire holiday was my orchestration. I planned it all while simultaneously making sure that my young children felt like they’d picked and planned the gifts they were giving. On that night I realized that I had to let go of some of it, that I couldn’t make the perfect Christmas, and that flawed Christmases are actually a good thing. This year I haven’t a clue what is in half of the packages. Both Link and Gleek planned and purchased presents before we even got out the tree. Patch and Kiki were not far behind. I’ve no clue whether the gifts are balanced for fairness between siblings. I’m not entirely sure if the top wishlist items have been hit because I haven’t been tracking wishlists. It all feels like I’ve abdicated my holiday responsibilities. Simultaneously it feels like I’m giving my children the chance to help create the holiday instead of just being an audience for my command performance. One way or another, all will be well. Mostly I’m trying to focus not on getting ready for Christmas day, but on enjoying the holidays as an ongoing experience. The most important things will get done. The rest don’t matter as much. (Either that or it will all be an utter disaster and we can try for better another year.)

Saw the New Muppet Movie with Howard

By / November 29, 2011 / 8 Comments

There is a moment in the first date after which it is either an only date or the beginning of something more. I sat there in the restaurant, across from this guy I’d first spoken to only 30 minutes before. I’d recognized him as the roommate of a former boyfriend and gone up to introduce myself to him after his performance in a musical play. He’d seen me in the audience and met me in the aisle before I could even make my way to the front of the small auditorium. All I knew was that he seemed attractive and interesting. I was quite glad to join him for dessert. So we went to a place where they served ice cream flambe. We traveled the well worn getting-to-know-you conversational paths until Howard resorted to describing the flaming dessert in order to keep the conversation going. He used large hand gestures and possibly sound effects. The question popped into my head and out of my mouth before I had a chance to filter it:
“Do you like the Muppets?” I asked.
It was the question that changed everything, because it led our conversation firmly away from careful territory and into geekland. We launched from Muppets into Battle Star Galactica (the original), through legos and into theories of creativity. Hours of non-stop conversation later the date finally ended, but the relationship did not.

Nineteen years and one month later Howard and I attended a late showing of the new Muppet Movie. It is a show filled with old corniness, new silliness, beloved songs, charming new songs, deep nostalgia for Muppet shows past, and stirring hope for Muppet shows yet to come. I laughed out loud and I cried, sometimes at the same time. Our kids can not possibly love this film as much as Howard and I do. They will completely miss the threads of nostalgia. They will not recognize the subtle details, like the fact that Miss Piggy’s outfits and hair styles where homages to Miss Piggy appearances past. Characters arrive without introduction because the film assumes the characters are all familiar. I greeted all these characters with delight, as long-absent friends, for my children they’re new. My kids will not instantly tear up by catching a glimpse of the photograph with Kermit and Jim Hensen. They will see this film with modern eyes and they may very well find it lacking. It is a very silly movie which only runs on Muppet logic. This is okay. They will have their own deep wells of nostalgia by the time they reach my age. Those wells will probably be sunk in other places. For tonight I’m just glad there is a new Muppet movie and I’m extra glad that all those years ago I happened to think of Muppets when watching Howard make an imaginary fireball using hand motions.

Leaf Play

By / November 23, 2011 / 2 Comments

I asked them to rake the leaves and they did. Sort of.

All the leaves were definitely moved around using a rake. Now they define the boundaries of a labyrinthine house. It was too much fun watching them run along the grass pathways, “sleep” in piles of leaves, and construct new rooms for me to ruin it by stepping outside with trash bags. The weather will be nice again tomorrow. They can keep the house for another day. Besides, I am far too tired from shifting things around in the garage. I did, however, take a couple artsy fall photos because they made me happy.