Everyday Life

Categories Parenting

You have a choice

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When I read Foster Cline and Jim Fay’s Parenting with Love and Logic with my sister-in-law a couple years ago, I wasn’t too impressed. I felt like many of Cline and Fay’s examples were manipulative – and they gave an initial description of parenting styles that put me off.

But one thing in particular about their approach stuck with me (in a positive way). They encouraged parents to offer children choices – both of which choices are acceptable to the parent. So “eat all that food or I’ll leave you at the restaurant” doesn’t fit the bill, since the parents really aren’t okay with leaving their child at the restaurant. “Either you can eat that food in the next 15 minutes or we’ll leave THE FOOD at the restaurant” is another matter entirely.

Now that Tirzah Mae is two and is asserting her independence on a regular basis, I’m finding this particular tip to be a life-saver.

In the parking lot: “You have a choice. Either you can hold mama’s hand the whole time we’re walking through the parking lot, or mama will pick you up and carry you into the store.”

Tirzah Mae on a Curb
Tirzah Mae chose to sit on the curb while mama was putting Louis in his car seat

At the library: “You have a choice. You can look at the books without pulling any new books off the shelf or you can sit in the stroller.”

At home: “You have a choice. You can take your clothes to the hamper or you can go sit in your room for a minute.”

I don’t always use the words “You have a choice”. But I use them often enough that when I reminded Tirzah Mae to clear her bowl from the table after breakfast one morning, I heard her repeat to herself “You have a choice.” And then, a few seconds later, I heard the bowl slide off the table and heard her mutter “Good decision.”

And that is indeed what happens when she selects the option I prefer. “Good choice!” I’ll tell her. Or the aforementioned “Good decision!”

It doesn’t eliminate parenting challenges, doesn’t mean she always obeys. But giving her a choice certainly makes things easier.

Categories Everyday Life

I’m so glad

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Surely every family has their own special phrases, words that can be heard as the warp threads upon which the fabric of our lives are woven.

One of our special phrases is “I’m so glad.”

I’m so glad I’m married to you.

Whispered words as we linger ten more seconds in bed before rising to meet the demands of one or the other of our offspring. Words accompanied by a handsqueeze as we drive together to church. Words spoken in broken voices after a particularly emotional conversation (read: when one of us has hurt the other.)

I’m so glad God made me your mama.

Words said during sweet moments of snuggling. Repeated during bathtime or diaper changes. Reminders to myself as much as to them when my exasperation seems to know no bounds.

I’m so glad

An exclamation when I’m feeling glad. A reminder when I’m not. A reassurance to myself and to them. God has made us a family. And we are glad He has.

What are your family’s special phrases?

Categories Parenting

Parenting: Providing Anticipatory Guidance

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It didn’t matter how many times I told her not to. She bit the fluoride dropper every time I put it into her mouth.

I’d draw up some fluoride, squeeze the excess out until I had the prescribed 0.5 mL, and insert the dropper into her mouth. She’d clamp the dropper between her teeth and grin at me as I tried to extricate the dropper. “This is not funny, Tirzah Mae,” I’d say, “this is disobedient. You should not bite the dropper.” My frustration level to rose higher and higher as the days went on – and so did Tirzah Mae’s sense that this was a marvelous game.

And then, one day, I suddenly knew exactly what I needed to do.

I needed to give some anticipatory guidance.

Holding hands with Mama

What is anticipatory guidance?

According to yourpediatrician.com:

“‘Anticipatory Guidance’ is a common term in the field of general pediatrics. It refers to providing education to parents about what to expect, or anticipate, over the next few months or years with your child. Recommendations are specific to a child’s age at the time of a visit.”

Our family doctor’s anticipatory guidance involves reminding me to childproof the house at the 6 month visit, since my little one is likely to soon become mobile. Our doctor is letting us know what to expect and what to do.

In the same way, my anticipatory guidance for Tirzah Mae meant telling her what was coming and what I expected of her.

In the above scenario, that meant I’d tell her something like this: “Okay, Tirzah Mae. Mama’s going to give you some fluoride. Now, I don’t want you to bite the dropper.” In this way, she knew exactly how I expected her to behave (or to not behave). If she followed my instructions, I’d praise her: “Thank you for being obedient, Tirzah Mae.” If she disobeyed my instructions, I’d put on my sad face and say “Oh, Tirzah Mae, you’ve been disobedient. Now mama will have to punish you.” And I’d administer whichever punishment was currently the order of the day.

And, as time went by, she learned what I expected and I no longer needed to give anticipatory guidance for the fluoride drops.

Holding her own hands

Now, it’s other things. As I see the pastor or elder making his way to the pulpit for the call to worship on Sunday morning, I explain to Tirzah Mae: “See how Mr. Dave is coming to the pulpit? He’s going to read to us from the Bible and then pray. I want you to be quiet and stand next to mama while he does that.” Or as I get ready to take Tirzah Mae out of her car seat, I’ll explain: “We’re going to go into ALDI, but I want you to hold mama’s hand the whole time we’re in the parking lot, until I put you in the cart.”

It doesn’t mean Tirzah Mae obeys every time, or that we never have struggles, but because I’ve articulated my expectations in advance, I’m able to respond to her actions more calmly rather than reacting in frustration. Because I know that she knows what I expect of her, I need not waffle about punishing her when she disobeys for fear that she’d forgotten my instructions. And the disobedience occurs less and less. In fact, she even begins to anticipate my guidance and say so herself.

She reaches out her hand to grab something from the shelf in the gas station but stops herself just in time. “Fold your hands,” she instructs herself, repeating my guidance. “We’re going to go into the gas station, but I want you to keep your hands folded and not touch anything.”

Anticipatory guidance. It works for us.

Categories Faith, Parenting

Must Christians Homeschool?

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After listening to R.C. Sproul, Jr’s audio series Training Up Children”, I am quite sure of what Dr. Sproul Jr’s answer to that question is. I am also quite certain that I disagree.

First, Dr. Sproul’s position.

Dr. Sproul began in Deuteronomy 6:6-9 (an excellent place to start when discussing a parent’s responsibility toward their children, by the way.)

“And these words that I command you today shall be on your hearts. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”

~Deuteronomy 6:6-9 (ESV – Emphasis mine)

Dr. Sproul (quite rightly) extrapolates from verse 7 (bold above) that parents should speak of God to their children throughout the course of their lives, not just during a time of formal devotions or family worship. From here, he takes a giant leap to say that parents must homeschool their children in order to be with them at all times.

This, I believe, is an inappropriate conclusion to draw from this passage.

This passage clearly speaks to the important role God intends His word to play in the lives of his people. God expects that His word be not merely external to His people but internal (“shall be on your hearts”.) God expects that parents will diligently teach His word to their children, not merely as formal instruction but as part of the everyday-ness of life. God expects that His word be always before His people (bind on hands, between eyes, on doorposts and gates.)

What this passage does not speak to is whether parents and children should always be together.

As a thought experiment, let’s explore whether one can be obedient to Deuteronomy 6:7 while sending their children to a “state school” (Sproul’s term). We’ll start with the various contexts in which parents ought to talk to their children about God’s word.

“When you sit in your house.” Do parents of children in a state school sit with their children? It depends. Do they eat meals with their children? Do they sit in the living room together after supper? Do they sit together in a car? They may or may not, but there is nothing inherent in sending your children to school that precludes parents sitting with their children.

“When you walk by the way.” Do parents of children in school drive their children about? Do they walk or ride bicycles about? They may or may not, but there is nothing inherent in sending your children to school that precludes parents from traveling with their children.

“When you lie down and when you rise up.” Do parents of children in school put their children to bed (or send them to bed, depending on their age)? Do they wake their children up or see them when they wake up? They may or may not, but there is nothing inherent in sending your children to school that precludes parents from being with their children during bedtime or wakening.

Interestingly, although a majority of Israelites of the day would have engaged in some sort of agricultural activity, God does not say that parents ought to talk to their children about God’s law while milking the cows or tending the sheep or collecting manna. Nor does he say that craftspeople ought to talk to their children while sewing, weaving, or throwing pots, despite the reality that many crafts were done as a family. Instead, this passage refers to everyday activities that parents and children are likely to share regardless of profession or position or socioeconomic class. And even if parents and children don’t do them together, every person on the face of the planet sits down, moves around, goes to sleep, and wakes up. And every person on the face of the earth does these things regularly.

What this passage has to say about parents’ obligation to train their children in God’s word is simply this: Parents ought to diligently and regularly speak to their children about God’s word in the course of everyday life.

Dr. Sproul thinks that Deuteronomy 6 insists that parents be with their children all day every day homeschooling them. He allows that there will be some delegation – for example, his son was going on a trip to the zoo with Dr. Sproul Jr’s mother and sister while Dr. Sproul was giving one presentation – but he denies that sending one’s children to school is an acceptable form of delegation. I have two problems with this. First, as I argued above, I believe that Dr. Sproul twists this passage to imply a necessity of parents and children being together at all times. Second, if Dr. Sproul’s interpretation of this passage’s implications is indeed true and parents must be with their children at all times speaking to them about the word of God, then I see no reason why “delegating” to the children’s grandmother and aunt is an acceptable exception.

This is not to say that there are not significant advantages to homeschooling. This is not to say that some parents may discover that homeschooling is the best way for them to diligently teach their children the word of God. But homeschooling is not necessary.

Let us not put burdens on the believer that God does not.

Must Christians homeschool their children?

No, they need not.

Categories Everyday Life

Permission to not do everything

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The desire to learn everything and to do everything. I suspect it’s quite common among homeschool-graduates-turned-homeschool-mothers. But even if it’s not as common as I think, I know at least for one person who has it.

In her case, it tends to cause a great deal of trouble.

Because it’s just not possible to do everything. There aren’t enough hours in a day, weeks in a year, or years in a lifetime.

So when she tries to do everything, she ends up frustrated and angry. Angry that she can’t do it all. Angry that other people seem to be able to do everything they want to be doing. Frustrated that even her mere two dozen major goals for the year haven’t been accomplished. Frustrated that only the hundred or so things on her to-do list don’t get accomplished each day. Frustrated that her children are taking her away from doing everything. Frustrated that her home is taking her away from doing everything. Frustrated that people e-mail or call on the phone or tag her on Facebook – keeping her from doing everything. And then she gets frustrated and angry because she knows she shouldn’t feel this way.

She knows she can’t actually learn everything. She knows she can’t actually do everything. She knows that caring for her children, caring for people, caring for her home is the important work she ought to be doing. But she struggles at the end of each day, feeling like she should have done more. No matter what the accomplishments of the day are, she should have done more.

She should have blogged, among other things. She is a blogger after all. She loves to write, she wants to write, she wants to grow as a writer. She’s not at all ready to abandon the blog, the title, the task. But the days are busy and the nights too short. The ideas for posts are there, but never time in front of the computer to turn them into a reality. So she posts once a month, maybe even less. Yet every day, she feels this is one of those things she ought to be doing, wants to be doing. She wants to do everything.

She needs permission. Permission to not do everything.

And so, while I have never intentionally done so before, I am taking a hiatus from bekahcubed (the blog). bekahcubed (the woman) needs permission to not do everything. bekahcubed (the woman) needs permission to not write, to not feel guilty.

I need to give her that permission.

bekahcubed (the blog) will be dormant for the remainder of the year. Should bekahcubed (the woman) feel the urge to write, she will do so (as she has opportunity) and will store up her writings to be shared after the new year. Then, perhaps, she will have achieved the elusive balance, or lowered her standards, or blah. blah. blah. At any rate, she’ll evaluate at that point to see what role blogging should be playing in her future.

For now, blogging is one of those things she needs permission not to do. And I’m giving her that permission.

So there.

Categories Pregnancy

The Difference a Robe Makes

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The section was scheduled for 3:30 pm. Preparations began.

But first, I needed to get into a hospital gown.

So far, I had refused a hospital gown every time, opting to wear my own robe (for admission and overnights) or my own honest-to-goodness clothes (for days). Wearing my own clothes made me feel human, made me feel autonomous, made me feel myself.

Now, though, I was preparing for what was, for me, the least human, least autonomous, least ME procedure.

I was preparing for a repeat c-section.

And the nurse was waiting for me to change into a hospital gown.

Meeting Louis after recovery

I briefly considered whether it was worth it to fight.

My carefully crafted birth plan, intended for my VBAC attempt, was worthless at this point.

I had worked so hard to be reasonable in my birth plan. I gave my wishes, yes, accepting that there were circumstances under which those wouldn’t be possible or reasonable. Even as I wrote of the interventions I didn’t want, I could think of at least one scenario in which I would accept each one. My biggest request was that I be involved in every step of the process. I wasn’t going to give blanket consent to anything. I wanted to give my own consent every time a line was placed, a medication given, a monitor hooked on.

And now I’d just given consent to the one thing I’d worked so hard to avoid. A repeat c-section. With that, I’d given consent to be hooked to a machine, to be laid flat on my back, to be anesthetized. All those things I’d hoped to avoid this time around? I’d just given consent to go ahead with them.

They were necessary.

The hospital gown was not.

I decided to hold my ground.

I was going to wear my own robe.

My nurse pushed back. “I don’t want to ruin your beautiful robe,” she said. “It’s not going to make it out of the c-section in any condition to wear it again.”

“That’s fine.” I insisted. “I bought this robe for 99 cents at a used store ten years ago. It’s served me well. I don’t care if it’s ruined.”

After a couple more almost identical back and forths, she relented. I would keep my robe on.

They wheeled me into the operating room and the first thing I heard was another nurse calling out, “Somebody get this woman a gown.”

She was peeved, it seemed, that no one had bothered to properly prepare me for surgery.

But my nurse stood firm. “She doesn’t want to wear a gown. She’s quite adamant on that point.”

The anesthetist gave a sigh. “I need to access her back,” she told my nurse. “I need a sterile field to place the spinal.”

I chose to ignore how the anesthetist had been acting as if I weren’t there, weren’t my own person.

I was my own person. That was exactly what the robe represented to me at that point.

I spoke directly to the anesthetist. “Cut it.”

“But, but, your beautiful robe.”

“CUT IT.” I didn’t shout, but I was firm.

I was wearing this robe to surgery, one way or another. The robe was of no import – being able to wear it was of the highest import.

Snuggling with Tirzah Mae after Louis was born

My nurse found some scissors, lifted the back of my robe. “I’m trying to cut as straight and as careful as I can. Maybe you can sew it back up after you’re done.”

I appreciated the effort, but it really wasn’t important. I’d already said that I didn’t care whether the robe was ruined. I really didn’t. The important thing was that somehow, in this birth that was so far from what I wanted, I remain me. The robe let me do that.

I’m sure it’s difficult, on the other side of the operating table, to understand why patients make what seem like such unreasonable demands.

How difficult is it to put on a hospital gown? Not at all. Why can’t she just do as she’s told, follow procedures? Doesn’t she understand how difficult it is to work around a robe that doesn’t have access to the back?

No, I didn’t understand, until you told my nurse, how valuable access to my back is for you.

But please, try to understand my side.

For you, this is just another day at work, albeit one in which you’re dealing with a difficult patient. For me, this is a day when something I’ve been working for for the past 20 months slips from my hands. This is a day when my life is in danger, my baby’s life in danger. When I’m forced to deliver my baby six weeks early via surgery.

For you, the robe is a nuisance. For me, the robe is the last thing that keeps me myself.

I’m so thankful for my nurse. Even though she didn’t understand why it was important, once she understood THAT it was important, she advocated for me.

She may never know (but I do) what a difference a robe makes.