Ever wonder what your parenting style says about you?

Recently at my son’s baseball game, I noticed two different sets of parents. There were parents cheering and screaming for their kids with “Jacob’s Mom” t-shirts and entire families bringing picnics and chairs as if it was a graduation ceremony. On the other side I saw parents quietly sitting with an occasional wink or thumbs-up to their child, watching proudly from the bleachers. I even overheard conversations as one group of parents criticized the other group of parents on which behavior was more appropriate. What is kids’ sports etiquette? Are there a set of rules we proud parents should follow?  How does it make you feel when other parents applaud and cheer for your child?

Different families come from different cultures, and this will always play a factor in the lives of our children. Some cultures put a great deal of honor in silent praise, while others feel the louder the better. When these two clash it can be very uncomfortable for a child who just wants to play ball.

I remember the first time I heard another parent cheering for my son from the bleachers–screaming and yelling, calling his name. I was thinking to myself, “who is that?” and “why are they acting like they’re his mom?”  I was upset and offended. Mostly I was embarrassed for my son because I knew he was uncomfortable with a lot of attention and didn’t like to be in the spotlight. I remember shooting a glare that could knock any man down from three rows away–it said “Let ME be the parent, cheer on your OWN child!”  That was what was going through my mind. Was I wrong?

When I was growing up, children weren’t raised to be involved in sports, we were taught that competition was a source of pride and we were to be humble. I didn’t have my parents cheering me on in the crowd, or putting all their attention on me, or taking out a second mortgage on the house to pursue my 5th grade dreams. I was just a kid.

Every parent has the right to enjoy their child in a way that is comfortable with them. To say that one family’s way is “wrong” or “better” is nonsense. Each child deserves recognition and praise for their accomplishments in a way that is comfortable for them, and only the parents understand that way. So if you’re a quiet family who understands a wink equals a huge “Great job!” or a thumbs-up really means “I’m so proud of you,” that’s OK.  And if you’re a parent with a bullhorn and a  tailgating party in the parking lot, that’s OK, too.

All that matters is that you support your child in a way they understand. Make a kid’s event about kids, and not a place to show off or steal the spotlight from a child who wants to be the center of attention in your life. Make it about the kids so everyone can enjoy their child in their own special way.

Once a year, every year, I leave my family for one weekend in May.  I go to Philadelphia and become my alter ego, Rhaea Miller – US Rowing Judge-Referee, for 3 days.  This has been going on since before the kids were born.  And every year, for weeks beforehand, I get a flurry of protests from the people I am leaving behind.  Mainly the kids.

Keep in mind, I am not sending the kids off to stay with strangers.  I am not even forcing them to leave the safety of their own house.  I am simply leaving them with their father.

The fact that this terrifies everyone involved is no mystery here at our house.  It is because The Dad does everything different.

I spend weeks making lists of my specific morning routine, down to the minute, in the exact order everything is carried out.  Ditto on the afternoon and bedtime routine.  I lay out detailed descriptions of what to pack in each child’s lunch, as my husband has no idea.  Same goes for dinner.  In fact, it is the only time of year my husband prepares dinner, so if there has been any change in location of pots and pans I need to fill him in on those too.

This year we have the complication of a dance recital.  We will spend several practice session on makeup and hair.  I have scheduled three people as backup help for Lee in the event he feels Rita looks too much like a hooker.

Part of the problem is that this is my job and I am expecting my husband to take over for a few days.  I would be clueless if he asked me to spend the day in his shoes as a Project Manager of Phase Four Clinical Studies at Merck.  My head would explode.

Another part of the problem is that I have a little control issue and I am an enabler.  Meaning, there are many things that I do for my kids.  Partially because it is easier and partially because I know it will be done right, that is to say, done my way.  I recognize that  I need to let go.

However, the main issue is that my husband takes joy in doing everything differently.  I know kids like routine.  He feels that mixing up the routine builds character.  So if mom does it one way, he picks a different way.  It all gets done, just not mom’s way.  And the kids don’t like that.  I’m not here, or else I wouldn’t like it either.

I always get unsolicited reports after the fact of all the things dad did differently.  Dad makes them get dressed before they eat breakfast (gasp!) or he makes them write their missed spelling words 5 times instead of 3.  Dad makes them use actual bathroom cleaner on the counter instead of a Clorox wipe.  Dad made them eat ALL their chicken instead of just 5 bites.  The list goes on.

This experience is good for all of us every year.  I am reminded that just so long as things get done, it doesn’t matter how it happens.  The kids remember that their dad is just as capable of a parent as I am.  And my husband is reminded of how hard my job is.   Not to mention, I get 3 whole days of being Rhaea, and not just Mom.

How do you handle temporary changes in routine?

1. Dust. The only thing that makes me realize I haven’t wiped a single surface in my house in 7 weeks  is when my kids start practicing writing their names on the wood edges of our staircase.
2. Car clutter.  I found a granola bar wrapper in my car the other day that had an expiration date of 12/10.  Presumably, that’s how long it has been stuffed under the seat.
3. Balled up socks on the floor. My kids peel the socks off their feet regardless of where they are, and they drop them on the floor.  I’ve yelled about it for so long, and I have thrown my back out more than once bending over in a rage.  So now I choose not to see them.  I’ll suck them up in the vacuum next time I use it.
4. Polly Pocket shoes and single block Legos.  Speaking of the vacuum….
5. Unmade beds.  I make my bed, but I no longer bother with the kids.  It is their job now.  Which means it doesn’t get done.  If they want to live in squalor, have at it.
6. Laundry. Dirty, clean, it makes no difference.  I currently have 6 baskets of clean laundry on the floor of my bedroom that needs to be folded.  If I had a laundry room it would be there instead.  Will I fold it?  Perhaps.  Someday.  It doesn’t really matter anyway because the second I get it all done, someone is going to change their underwear and the whole process will start over.
7. A sink full of dishes.  My only rule is I never go to bed with a sink full of dishes.  I wait all day until all the dishes are good and dirty and then take care of them.  Dishes are like laundry.  Why bother working all day to keep them clean when one of my kids is always going to dirty one up.
8. Yard toys. I used to gasp in horror when I would pass a house with a bunch of kids’ toys left out overnight in the yard or the driveway.  How can they do that?  Don’t they worry about someone stealing them?  We are now those people.  And we now know that nobody steals kids’ toys that were left in the yard.  Why do you think I leave them there?  I want them stolen.  Six years later and nobody has taken me up on my offer.
9. Empty toilet paper rolls. Like a robot, I walk around and refill my toilet paper holders.  I don’t care anymore.  One is always empty.  If I let It bother me, I would always be bothered.  Plus, it is good problem solving skill building to let my kids sit there with no toilet paper once in a while.  They figure out.
10. Kids who look like a monkey dressed them. I am ashamed to say I remember thinking that ‘how can people let their kids go out looking like that?!’  Then, I had kids.  If you want to let your kids learn to dress themselves, there will be a period of looking like they live with monkeys who help them dress.  Sometimes I get motion sickness when looking at my youngest daughter’s chosen outfits.  Go into any elementary school building and there are a bunch of kids who look like monkeys dressed them.  My son, at 10, still puts clothes on backward.  Whatever.  Now, the only one I judge is an adult who looks like a monkey helped with their morning routine.

How has having kids changed your pet peeves?

Spring Break finally came and so did allergy season. Unfortunately, in our family this can be more of a pain than normal. My 4-year-old suffers from febrile seizures, which are seizures brought on by intensely high fevers. Any kind of infection can trigger them–sinus infections, ear infections, anything. These are so scary and heartbreaking at the same time.

First it starts with a runny nose or a small cough that many would just play off as a common cold. But then a fever starts, with a chattering of the teeth and a shaking in the arms and legs. This is the body’s way of trying to cool itself off. The first time this happened to my son, I was in shock. None of my other children before ever suffered from these types of tremors, but my youngest one somehow can’t seem to avoid them.

So many 3 a.m. trips to the emergency room (only to sit there for hours) has taught me how to handle these episodes on my own. By alternating Motrin and Tylenol, I am able to moderately control my son’s temperature and ease his pain at the same time. Still, comforting my son and keeping him distracted worked the best.

I always have to keep these medicines in stock and even though sometimes I feel like a pharmacy, I’d rather have them in my cabinet when I need them then have to run out to the store in the middle of the night.

The doctor says he will outgrow them eventually, but in the meantime I’ve learned to look for the signs and I’ve also left information with the school just in case. Now that he’s in preschool and smack dab in the middle of germs and other sick children, it makes him an easy target.

For more information regarding febrile seizures check out this link:

http://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/febrile_seizures/detail_febrile_seizures.htm

I went to a wedding a few weekends ago. All the kids came with us, too. We left Saturday morning and made the drive up to Grand Rapids. In the parking lot we changed from car clothes to dressy ones. As parents we know that any ride in a car with children requires snacks and drinks and that usually means at least a few stains.

In the church my husband sat on one end and I on the other other, flanking our four little ones. They were well behaved with some matchbox cars, games on smart phones and some gummy snacks passed around the lot.

When the vows were being said, Z was sitting on my lap running his car up and down my body. I saw the undeniable love between my friend and her new husband. I glanced to my husband, he had one child on his lap and his arm around another. He glanced in my direction and we shared a knowing smile. This is much different from when we exchanged our vows. This is not just about us anymore, but attention is focused on the four little ones between us.

The reception came and again it was a tag team event for the hubby and I. He sat on one side of the table with two children and I was on the other side with two more. We smiled at each other a few times, but mainly we tended to the children and kept them entertained. Interaction between us was neglected. A few reach across the table hand squeezes and smiles was all.

The bride and groom were joined at the hip, sharing those knowing uninterrupted stares and kisses. Their hands were interlocked and the love was pure and wonderful. I watched their first dance with a baby and another child in my lap. They were content and my mind wondered. I began to think of ways that I could get back that overwhelming and contagious love with my husband.

When Tom gets home from work we used to always make a point of kissing and hugging. That was when we had one or two children. Now I shout, “your Dad is home,” give a quick smile and try to escape for a few moments to collect myself. If I do go in for a kiss and hug a few bodies cling to our legs and just ruin our moment. Maybe I needed to get back to making a point of taking a few seconds that is just about us, and let the kids wait their turn–we need ours.

Ideally a date night every month would do us good. That is not really an option but maybe turning off all electronics (when the kids go to bed) and having a night of talking, playing a game, or just enjoying cuddling on the couch without outside interruptions would do us some good.

The dance ended and my mind was brought back to the kids on my lap. By this time when I glanced at my husband a child was sleeping in his arms and he was staring down. He did look up and we just stared at each other. Yes, we are different now and there are things we could do to improve our closeness, but man, we still had that spark. I felt it. It tingled and ran through my body.

There are always ways to improve upon a marriage, nothing is perfect. With a spark still igniting our love, a few minor adjustments will make us stronger and burn brighter.

How have children changed your marriage? What do you do to keep things still strong?

With a couple weeks into preschool I am seeing such an improvement in my child’s growth. I remember when I first questioned the notion of placing my 4-year-old in school as opposed to waiting until he was older, but with great encouragement and support, I convinced myself we were ready.

And now I’m excited to hear about my son’s day. How they played games and had lunch and went outside. Making new friends and seeing new faces is now something my child is accustomed to. My child encourages me. He reminds me of how willing and passionate people can be about learning.

Last week was the Easter egg hunt for my son’s class. We played Bingo and had lunch and read books and sang together. I’m so thankful I gave my child opportunities to grow despite my own fears. And the atmosphere in his classroom was nothing but pure. Everyone cares.

I encourage any mom who may have second thoughts about preschool. It has been such a benefit to us we are so thankful for it.

Raising two sons, I am particularly sensitive to language and the power of words, and struggle with my vulgar tendencies. In the first of what will undoubtedly be a long line of parental hypocrisies, I am working to keep them from employing words they may occasionally hear from me (especially in traffic).

Recently, winding through a line at Westgate’s Costco, Evan was seated in the shopping cart, happily stuffed with free food samples (he is fascinated by the myriad samples offered at Costco; it could be a piece of bagel, fruit, something freshly cooked or plastic wrap from the floor, and he’s captivated by the offering). He politely asked for a clerk’s attention and said, “Would you like to hear a funny noise?”

“It had better be a polite noise,” I admonished.

The clerk agreed and Evan blew a benign raspberry on the back of his hand.

“That could have been worse,” I thought to myself.

“That was funny,” the clerk indulged, smiling at Evan’s halo of innocence.

“Yes, it sounded like a fart!” Evan said, smiling ear to ear, halo shattered as if by one of his beloved Angry Birds.

“Evan!” I chided. “That’s potty talk. Apologize.”

The clerk, who was understandably cracking up but trying not to encourage the boy, motioned that it was OK, but I was trying to look stern.

Evan apologized and looked contrite, but I still felt compelled to emphasize the rudeness of his mistake, so I played the nuclear option: “Son, you know how Nana would react if she heard you talking that way.”

That got his attention and drained the humor from the situation. As we pushed the cart toward the door, I kept the “daddy eyes” trained on him to show I meant business about the potty talk, taking my eyes off the large container of apples in the cart, which split and tumbled, apples rolling away as if fleeing from their gastronomical fate.

“Damn it!” I said.

“Daddy,” Evan said, smiling. “Am I going to have to talk to Nana?”

I gave him an apple, leaned in close and blew a raspberry at him.

My brother-in-law recently gave my son an Atari 2600.  For those of you too young to remember, it is an AWESOME video game system from the mid 1980’s.  Yes, folks, that is before the turn of the century.  This system had wood-look paneling, joysticks, and you had to screw it into the back of your TV.  The TV that had channel dials that went up to 13.  And no remote.

My son, who spends way too much time on the computer and his DS, found out about this system from somewhere and asked my brother in law if he still had their old one.  My brother in law, who throws away nothing, most certainly did.

At first, I wasn’t thrilled about this little treasure.  In my head, this was one more electronic device I was going to have to peel my children away from.  I was going to have to add it to the stack of things I have had to apply time limits.  It was going to be another time sponge that kept my kids out of trees and from playing in dirt.  They would choose it over bikes and scooters.  I gave it a big thumbs-down before it arrived at the door.

Adding to my skepticism was the fact that when we pulled it out of the box we realized we didn’t have a TV old enough to be compatible with its little hook-up box thingy.  Keep in mind, we have a TV in the basement family room from 1994.  Our neighbor provided an adapter and we were in business.

And then something mysterious happened.

Our neighbor’s kids were excited to try it.  So were the adults, as they both had the same system as kids.  We reminisced about our favorite games.  My sister came over when she heard, and soon we are having family tournaments.  Frogger, Pac Man, Combat, Space Invaders.  Adults are winning said tournaments, as we all spent countless hours as children mastering these games.  Kids are fascinated by how simple the games are.  There is no menu.  No life-like graphics.  Terrible sounds effects.  Blinking characters that made us wonder how none of us ever ended up with seizures.  We are having fun.  Lots of it.

Avery announced that this is ‘good old-fashioned family fun.’    I started to disagree with the old-fashioned part, but when I did the math, I realized this game is 30 years old!  Back in my day, it wasn’t old-fashioned.  Now, it just might be.  Either way, the family fun part is what is important.

Have you ever pulled out your old toys for your kids?

I have read enough John Irving novels to know it is impossible to construct a figurative protective dome around one’s family.

As our sons, Evan, 5, and Sean, 3, experience more of the world and its many wonders, I struggle with the balance between letting them explore and stumble or being a “helicopter parent,” hovering, removing obstacles and trying to stay one step ahead with an endless roll of Bubble Wrap, which hides the world even as it softens it.

Evan is rounding the corner toward the end of kindergarten, and it has been thrilling to watch his exponential growth. Hearing him count to 100 and watching him read his way through beginner’s books, sounding out unfamiliar words until they click, are among my life’s great joys.

I did not grow up in a particularly warm or loving household, which was great training for being a journalist. But I had some tremendous role models in friends’ families, and married a woman from a large, close and loving family, so I understand the importance of expressing love to family and friends.

If Evan and Sean know nothing else about life, they know they are loved. Their mom and I tell them openly and freely, not from habit, but from overwhelmed hearts filled with gratitude for their health and very existence. The boys hear “I love you” from their parents, their grandparents, their many aunts and uncles, their extended family and the groups of friends in our lives. We are teaching them that, in addition to all the love they are blessed to have in their lives, there is an even greater love promised to them through their creator and heavenly host.

The Cleavers, Waltons, Huxtables, Barones, Hecks and Dunphys got nothin’ on us.

But outside the protective parameters of home and family, Evan is learning some tough lessons about love and expression. He recently told a friend on the bus “I love you,” and the friend reacted by calling him weird and pushing him away. This hurt Evan’s feelings and led to a dinner table discussion about what love means to different people and the reality that not everyone shares their feelings the same way, or is open to having other’s feelings shared with them.

It broke my heart to have to add conditions to Evan’s idea of unconditional love. How sad for the world that by 5 years old, some kids are already growing cynical and adverse to expressing or receiving love in its most innocent form.

A week after the bus incident, Evan demonstrated some remarkable resilience. He was assigned to fill in a poster about himself for his special week at school, and in the lines for “What makes you special?” he wrote, in his nascent yet confident block letters, “I love everybody in the world.”

Sean, who does everything he can to keep up with his big brother, said, “Me, too!”

I know that won’t always be true. But it is for now, and I bless their little hearts for not yet wavering under the peer pressure that may one day pierce their loving outlook, but for now is being kept at bay.

You’ll read this someday, Evan and Sean, long after I am passed to dust, but even then, I want you to know that you were right to love, you are right to love, and that even now, separated as we are, I love you.

With 3-1/2 hours of down time added to my life I am almost at a loss of what to do. I surely don’t want to start anything that would take up much of that time, since I want to be available in case my preschooler or any of my other school-age kids may need me.  I decided to use that time to do some of the things I’ve been putting off that I really have been looking forward to trying. Yoga. I finally have been able to take 30 minutes of my morning and do some healthy stretching and relaxing. Meditating. I’ve always enjoy using down time to become centered. Centering your self emotionally and mentally is so necessary. Everything we create comes from within ourselves, and finding your center early in the morning can really help your day go by so much more smoothly.

I miss my little one while he is away, but I am also very thankful that I have the time to spend on myself to help make me a better parent.