Category Archives: Parentgood

Parentgood

Difficult Choices

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I'm taking my 10.5-year-old golden retriever, George, to the vet during lunch today. He's been on a downward slide for the past few months and, despite our best efforts, I fear it's time for him to move on. He's lost most of his mobility and hasn't been eating. At a vet visit last month, he was prescribed muscle relaxants & various meds for pain & joint health as he was exhibiting symptoms of arthritis and muscle atrophy in his rear end. He improved for a while, but is again back to being barely able to get himself up; he can't even support himself to go to the bathroom. When I went to the kennel this morning, I though he was dead - he didn't raise his head to acknowledge me until I was at his side, petting him. He couldn't even lift himself and I had to carry him to the yard and hold his ass end up to take a leak. He took a few steps and then sat/laid down hard. Some research online suggests both that his deterioration isn't out of the ordinary and his current age is within the normal end-of-lifespan.

In my house, the dogs* are more pets than family members. Since kids were added to the mix, our dog-ownership activities have essentially deteriorated to the point of co-existence. They have a large dog house & roofed kennel, access to a big yard (more than an acre), get fed twice a day, and we let them out to run around a bit and go to the bathroom every morning and evening. However, they don't get the daily 2-mile walks they got for the first 6 years we had them, we don't play with them every day, George hasn't been hunting since 2009 and hasn't hit the lake for a swim in over a year. Kernel is young enough that I don't think it'll be too difficult for her and I know my wife will be sad. I'm already grieving a bit. George has been a truly amazing dog - but if he needs to be put down (and if I'm being honest) - I'll also be somewhat relieved.

George_2008

I don't want him to be in pain and his quality of life right now is for shit, but I'm not willing (or able, really) to spend two or three thousand dollars to get him another six months. Last time, they suggested x-rays ($$) and potentially surgery ($$$), thinking it might be damaged discs in his back or joint issues in his hips and/or knees. He's a retriever and he can barely walk, let alone run and fetch. He's a mostly-outside dog (kennel & yard) and another winter would be incredibly hard on him. I don't want him to suffer, but I don't want to put him down if there's a reasonable alternative. The vets can (apparently) refuse to euthanize if they believe there's a better course of action. I'm all ears, but I'm not very optimistic at the moment. I didn't have dogs growing up so I have never dealt with this before...

*I anticipate our beagle will be the one most affected by his absence. They've been inseparable for nearly 10 years. She's had a ton of health issues and I always thought it'd be her that went first. Not sure how my wife's going to handle it when the beagle (Emma) passes. We got her about 4 months into our marriage so my wife would have a buddy while I was deployed. On the plus side, despite Emma's chronic bladder infections and incontinence, she'll be the easier of the two to move back into the house, seeing as how she's only 23 lbs. and doesn't have the long coat like George. Amazing how adulthood produces such callousness pragmatism.

Parentgood

Father Knows Best – overwhelmed

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Sometimes I wonder if we made the right decision

Two weeks ago, we accepted a foster placement of an almost 2-year old girl I'll call Dakota.  We thought it would be a good fit.  She was just a year older than our youngest.  Our other kids have demonstrated friendliness and acceptance to a couple of other foster children we've accepted in our home.  I would say that we've had good experiences with previous foster children in our home (granted, they were for very short amounts of time)

Just before Dakota came to live with us, we worried about whether or not this placement would actually happen.  A part of us was worried that something would prevent us from having an opportunity to care for this girl.  We were very excited at the possibility though.

A lot has changed in just a month.

Dakota is a very high energy child.  This means that she's constantly on the go, and eats and poops A LOT.  Her curiosity gets her many places that she shouldn't be, and I feel like we're constantly correcting and redirecting her.  All the while trying to remember her past and why she came to be placed into care in the first place, realizing that you need to have a different approach to children from foster care than you do your own children.

It has been incredibly difficult, and it's taking a toll on my wife and I.  My wife has been bearing the brunt of the work, spending most of the day with her, trying to homeschool our other children in the meantime.  Luckily the older children are somewhat independent and able to do much of their work on their own.  By the time evening comes along, I try to be intentional about helping out by taking more direct responsibility for Dakota and let my wife have some time to herself.

Dakota does not like bedtime, and would much rather play and run around in her room.  Once she finally does go down, we try to get as much sleep as we can, taking the same approach that many take to caring for newborns - sleep while she sleeps.

I believe it has less to do with her being a foster child, and more to do with the fact that she's nearly 2.  I'm hopeful that we can move past this and come to a new normal with her in our home.  However, our sanity seems to be taking a hit.

We're going to a family camp this weekend that we scheduled months ago.  I'm not sure how it's going to go, as both my wife and I are very concerned how Dakota's presence is going to affect the family dynamic.  If you pray, please pray for our family and for Dakota.  If you don't, well, keep us in your thoughts anyway.

How have you been feeling overwhelmed lately?

 

Parentgood

Father Knows Best: Mr. Moming It

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I’ve been playing the role of Mr. Mom for the past six months. Without a job, we can’t justify paying to send the kids to daycare, so when Philosofette goes to work, I stay home. Holy. Buckets. It is a lot of work.

I think the hardest part isn’t the work itself, it’s the self-sacrifice that goes with it. I cannot both be an attentive parent and try to accomplish my own agenda. This makes applying for jobs very difficult. It makes cleaning difficult. It makes preparing dinner challenging. The kids require attention. Part of this has to do with the demographics. We’re at 5 (he’s easy!), 3 (she’s potty training!), and 9 months (he’s eating everything on the floor and getting into places he shouldn’t be and pulling things off of shelves and crying and pooping and etc.!). Without the baby, the other two are pretty simple. Without the other two, the baby is easy too. But throw all three of them together… wow.

So these past six months for me have really hammered in the respect I have for stay-at-home parents. They do a lot of work. But even more essentially, they give up themselves. And that’s impressive.
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A couple of other quick hits, parenting-related ideas that have been bouncing around my head recently…

My daughter was born with a tethered spinal cord. She had surgery at 3 months, and basically we’ll have to watch her for the rest of her life to make sure it doesn’t re-tether. We recently thought we were picking up some signs that it maybe had, including potty-training problems. We were feeling terribly guilty for not scheduling her to see a specialist a long time ago, since these signs were there for a while. When we took her into the specialist though, he couldn’t have been more reassuring. It’s a strange thing though, having to keep a constant vigil against a specific condition. If we miss it, if we delay, we could fail to prevent some pretty awful effects. It really ramps up the possible parenting guilt.

I recently taught my 5-year-old how to play war. He pretty much plays it constantly now. But even he’s gotten bored, because he’s started to introduce “powers” where cards freeze other cards or blow them up, etc. The thing is, all of the powers are similar to things he sees in games I play on the iPad… which clearly means I need to play less when the kids are awake (I gave up iPad games for Lent).

Alright, I’ve rambled for a while. Time for others to chime in.

Parentgood

Clad Them in Bubble Wrap

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In among the many, many movie-related comments in Tuesday’s Movie Day post was this bit from Zee German, “I was trying to recall at what age I could really start roaming the neighborhood . . . probably 8-9-10 or somewhere in there.” A few people chimed in with thoughts, and it seemed to me there was more we could talk about in a dedicated FKB post.

As a parent of youngish kids (4.5 years and 1.5 years), I’m in the early stages of dealing with this stuff. So I guess I’m curious to know not just how much freedom people give their kids but also how they think about the question of how much freedom to give.

Not that long ago, Mr. NaCl and I had a . . . discussion (yeah, let’s call it that) about the jalapeño plugging in some Christmas lights. I thought it was completely fine. I mean, the jalapeño is certainly not timid, but neither is he a major risk taker. He’s also good about understanding rules about dangerous things and following those rules. But the mister obviously had a different opinion and thought it was just waaaaay to dangerous for a four-year-old kid to be having anything to do with an outlet.

Yesterday I came across a 2008 essay, "No-Man's-Land" by Eula Biss that addresses perceptions of safety, among other things. (Astute citizens may recognize Biss’s name; she the author of one of my favorite reads of 2014.)

Biss references The Culture of Fear by Barry Glassner:

Every society is threatened by a nearly infinite number of dangers, Glassner writes, but societies differ in what they choose to fear. Americans, interestingly, tend to be most preoccupied with those dangers that are among the least likely to cause us harm, while we ignore the problems that are hurting the greatest number of people. We suffer from a national confusion between true threats and imagined threats.

And also:

One of the paradoxes of our time is that the War on Terror has served mainly to reinforce a collective belief that maintaining the right amount of fear and suspicion will earn one safety. Fear is promoted by the government as a kind of policy. Fear is accepted, even among the best-educated people in this country, even among the professors with whom I work, as a kind of intelligence. And inspiring fear in others is often seen as neighborly and kindly, instead of being regarded as what my cousin recognized it for—a violence.

As it happens, this week Jane Brody has an article in the New York Times that ties in with all of this as well. It’s about Lenore Skenazy and a new tv show in which Skenazy works with overprotective parents to give their children a bit more freedom. The first episode is about a ten-year-old named Sam. His mother won’t let him ride a bike (“she’s afraid I’ll fall and get hurt”), cut up his own meat (“Mom thinks I’ll cut my fingers off”), or play “rough sports” like skating.

My heart kind of breaks for this kid. It's clear his mother loves him dearly and only wants to keep him safe. But by protecting him from all these perceived risks, what essential skills is she preventing him from acquiring?

Brody's article also includes the following quote from Dr. Peter Gray, author of the book Free to Learn: Why Unleashing the Instinct to Play Will Make Our Children Happier, More Self-Reliant, and Better Students for Life, “If children are not allowed to take routine risks, they’ll be less likely to be able to handle real risks when they do occur.”

As I’m sure is obvious to anyone still reading, I’m on the side of giving children more freedom rather than less. I want my kids to take risks, I want them to make mistakes, I want them to experience failure. That's not to say I'm going to teach them to swim by throwing them into the deep end of the pool. I want them to know I'll always be there for them, happy to offer support and guidance. But I also hope to give them opportunities, both big and small, to try out new things on their own and to develop the skills they'll need to one day navigate the world on their own.

The other day, the jalapeño dropped a raw egg on the kitchen floor. And that was okay with me. I had him help me clean it up, and afterward I asked him what he’d do differently the next time he was carrying an egg. He said he'd use two hands. That lesson was far more vivid than it would have been if I’d just followed him around calling out, “Be careful! Eggs can break! Don’t drop it!”

Well . . . I think that’s about enough from me. So what about you? How much freedom did you have as a kid? How much freedom do you give your own kids?

note: featured image is from a British ad campaign promoting a personal emergency service

Parentgood

Sports! Sports! Sports!

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I grew up in a small town. I loved sports. I played four sports throughout the year up until my senior year of high school. I wasn't spectacular but was pretty good at track so that made me passable at other sports.

My oldest is turning 14 soon. She plays soccer and dances. She will also most likely run track in high school next year. The problem is that I think the soccer commitment is ridiculous. She plays on a travel team in the fall and spring/summer. She also plays for her school team in the fall. Practice for her spring team starts in November - essentially two weeks after the fall season ends.

I keep reading about how parents are pushing the kids to do this. I'm sure there are parents that push their children in sports but the majority of parents I talk to don't like the time commitment. It is the organization that is pushing this.

I am happy that she is active and seems to enjoy it. I tell her she doesn't need to go to the offseason practices but she likes to do it. As long as it isn't too much for her, I guess we'll go with it. I'm just not sure she knows how much is too much.

This brings me to child #2. She will turn 12 this winter. She plays for the school volleyball team in the fall and dances. Volleyball is a few days a week in the fall. Dance is 1-2 days per week throughout the school year. She doesn't do any sports or physical activity in the summer. I worry that she doesn't get out and move enough. She used to play softball and basketball but as they got to be bigger time commitments, she wasn't that interested.

I just wish a sport was a sport. I don't know if it is a small town versus suburb thing or a generational thing but I just feel like there is too much specialization and not nearly enough playing of sports just for enjoyment.

Parentgood

Father Knows Best: Trust The Process

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Louis C.K. once said that if you're doing it right, parenting is really fucking hard. I don't know if I'm doing it right, but it makes the next hardest thing I've ever done* look like Tic-Tac-Toe.

*For the record, beating Mike Tyson in Punch-Out!!

People will occasionally tell me how hard it must be to be a social worker. I work with people in crazy situations with crazy emotions and there's no dollar figure or spreadsheet that can tell me if I've done a good job or not. Thing is, with social work, all you can do is get the process right. If you do the process right, and the other person fails, that's not on you.* It can't be on you. If it is, it'll drive you insane with self-doubt, second-guessing, guilt, anxiety, and hopelessness. In other words, being a parent.

*Similarly, if the other person succeeds, it's also not on you. 

I won't discuss the details in a public forum, but all of these emotions came to a boil when we were told by professionals that our kid is "behind." He's not abnormal, or defective. Just behind. Advanced in some areas! And different. Perfectly okay, but different. "It's not your fault," we keep hearing. Sure, logic knows that. But it's not very satisfying to blame genetics. Or bad luck. Or is it even bad luck?

So we have to work harder to make sure he does well. Well, at least the professionals think so. Studies show certain things help, but it's hard to know for sure. We could do nothing and everything could turn out fine. But it's hard to know for sure. We keep getting told that we're great parents. But, you know, it's hard to know for sure. The only evidence that actually feels real and tangible is that professionals told my parents similar things about me back in 1982. I'm happy with my life. So the transitive property gives me hope. As does my wife and mother-in-law, who are with my son significantly more than I am and helping him navigate the world.

On paper, I'm sure I look like a great parent. But "on paper" doesn't matter when you see your son struggle. That's the thing about loving someone beyond what you ever thought possible. You can't ever divorce yourself from your role in that person. You can't just "trust the process." You feel their good times and you feel their bad times. And whatever life deals them, you can just hope you can have enough influence so they have more of the good times.

Parentgood

Father Knows Best – Hard Conversations

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It's been a hell of a year. My wife's grandfather, my cousin's baby, and my sister all passed away. My mother-in-law has cancer (treatable, sounds like it'll be OK, but a couple scary weeks). I left my job. Oh, and we added a third child in May. Sorry for bringing all that up again... sometimes I feel like it's all I talk about.

I'm sure my kids wonder sometimes too. They've been exposed to some big things this year, and they ask some good questions. We've had to have a number of hard conversations with our kids - especially our 5 year old - about they way the world is, why things happen like they do, etc. We've tried not to shy away from the tough answers, but always try to keep a focus on the positive. I know sometimes we slip and give more trite responses, but usually we've done pretty well explaining birth (well, not so much the causes thereof...), death, employment stress, joblessness, etc. And they seem to have done a pretty good job with their processing of the information.

Through each of these moments, sharing the reality of the situation with my kids has helped me too. One of the things that made me feel best about losing my job was when I explained to my son that I had been unhappy working there, and so leaving it was a good thing. I let him know there might be some changes and stress around home, or that we might have to move when I find something (or, I suppose, if I don't find something) but that I would find a new job and we'd all be happier for it. He thought it sounded good, and came up with some of his own positives, like now I could spend more time helping him color.

When my sister died, he was at the hospital. He asked if he could go see her body, and we let him. There were a lot of questions for a few weeks, about life, death, and the afterlife. We're a family of faith, so we talked to him about heaven, letting him know that we don't really have any specific knowledge about it, but that we have faith God takes care of us. Every once in a while there's a new question that pops up - the other day it was about whether animals go to heaven - and so we can tell they're still processing all this information. Heck, I suppose I still am too.

I've wondered at times if I'm doing the right thing by having these conversations with my kids. My parents didn't peel back the curtain on adulthood nearly as early as we are. At the same time, I'm still trying to shield my kids from some of the more trying items, and focus on positive aspects. My hope is that my willingness to talk about big things with them - no matter how young they are - will help them be open with me too.

How about it, citizens? What's your approach to tough conversations with your kids? How did it change as they got older? I'm still stuck with pre-school kids, so I'd imagine school adds all sorts of wrinkles. How much is too much when they're so young? Where have I already gone wrong?

Also, I've been wanting to have these posts feature music that is played for kids. So here's one my favorites for my kids, and when it's your turn, you should share one too!

httpv://youtu.be/4EiU9pTweyw

Parentgood

Father Knows Best: #2

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Congratulations are or should soon be in store for Can of Corn, on his new son. If Mrs. Corn didn't go into labor last night, she'll have a C-section today.

Welcome to the world, Corn child #2!
Congrats, Can of Corn, to you and your wife. You no longer outnumber your children. If one of you has a complete break, the other of you is outnumbered. Or you have a sitter.

Parentgood

Easy as ABC

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A is for: (a little) arrogant

I didn’t know much about babies before the jalapeno was born in 2010, but I thought I knew—in general terms—how I’d approach being a parent. All I had to do was follow the example of my own parents.

Growing up, I always felt that my sister and I were at the center of our parents’ lives. They worked hard at their jobs during the day, but on evenings and weekends they were supremely attentive to our needs, our activities, etc. Not to say we got everything we wanted—they were plenty firm about setting limits—but they always seemed to be focused on us. I wouldn’t say they were at the level of helicopter parents, but they were definitely very involved. I suppose I must have known that they theoretically had lives of their own, but that fact barely registered. My mom’s hobbies included things like going to church meetings and sewing clothes for my sister and me. My parents occasionally got a babysitter and went to the theater or the SPCO, but it was rare. All in all, everyone seemed pretty happy with this arrangement.

B is for: (lack of) balance

Fast forward to after the jalapeno was born. I went back to work when he was three months old. My general routine became: work (at a job I liked, fortunately), spend time with the jalapeno, dinner, tend to whatever chores needed to be done, collapse into bed at 9:00, dreading how often the jalapeno might wake during the night. Over time, his sleep improved somewhat (hello, sleep training) and I started working in occasional trips to the gym. I went online and read message boards where moms talked about their babies. Sometimes I found the energy to catch up with a friend or two via email. Once in a while, we made plans to get together with friends (who also had small children) on the weekends. But I rarely left the house other than to go to work or the gym.

In retrospect, this seems ridiculous. How could this setup possibly be a good idea? But I’m by nature an overachiever. I was trying to do everything “right” for my kid, but in doing so I was failing myself.

C is for: changes

Fast forward again to the present day. The jalapeno is 4 years old and the pepperoncino is 15 months. I’m still working full time (and fortunately still like my job). Life is chaotic, to say the least. In theory, I have less free time than ever, but I’m doing things differently now. Having gone through all the infant and toddler stuff once before, I know that many of the hard things are only temporary. I stay away from online discussions where moms compare and compete about what their children are doing and everyone knows what’s best for all babies everywhere. I’m also making time to do things that have nothing to do with my job or my children.

Get a last-minute chance to go to a Twins game on a beautiful day? Do it. Hear about a bizarre online game run by some guy who goes by a moniker that has to do with scary dairy products? Do it. Have a friend who wants to check out a new restaurant (sans kids)? Do it.

There are by no means enough hours in the day to do everything I’d like—for my job, for my kids, or for myself. But now that I’m no longer trying to be something that was making me miserable, I’m a lot better off, and I daresay my kids are better off as well.

Image credit: (cc) Michael Verhoef

Parentgood

Father Knows Best — Girl, Interrupted

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Like so many of these monthly posts, it's often obvious that father doesn't necessarily know best...nor does mother, and nor do so many others.

I delayed writing this until the last minute, not because I didn't have a topic, but because of privacy concerns. Since there is some anonymity to this site, I'm going ahead and sharing my daughter's story here -- please respect her privacy. Thanks.

Just a couple weeks before finals of the fall semester of Runner daughter's Junior year of college, Mrs. Runner and I found ourselves driving 1-½ hours to her apartment, where we found her curled up on her bed, a sobbing mess. This was our jarring introduction to anxiety disorders.

We didn't know what the problem was at the time, but it didn't take long to diagnose. No one can be certain what brought it on, but surely the stress of college was part of it, and we also discovered that some OCD was also involved, as was the combined living space with three others in her apartment suite. Any thoughts of salvaging at least a class or two of the current semester were gone, as was starting the next semester.

What does this attack look like? I'm sure this isn't necessarily typical for all anxiety attacks, but in her case it was like seeing someone caught between deciding to do two or more things at once and the confusion that would cause; the fallout wasn't just emotional but also physical, leaving her core muscles painfully sore.

The medical treatment for anxiety disorders isn't something that can be done overnight: any of the medications generally need to be started at a low level and increased slowly over time, in concert with any therapist and/or psychologist visits. Several weeks after her treatment had begun, we were frustrated to have to start over with a different medication when we determined the first was not working adequately. She was experiencing nightmares, and I'm proud of her for recognizing when she was having suicidal thoughts and called an expert -- her godmother, who is a pastor and also has dealt with people with anxiety disorders. Also during this time, we got a small rescue dog, who was a life raft to her (and to us!)

While waiting on pharmaceutical relief, the three of us were learning how to identify when an attack was coming on, and how to prepare and combat it. And it was frustrating and slow going. Little by little, though, life began returning to normal. Runner daughter explored a new major at a more local college, and took a required class or two at the community college. We weren't sure we'd ever get there, but she enrolled for the fall semester. The next summer she got a part time job, which she kept through her Senior year. She still has (very infrequent) attacks, but she is able to recognize them and deal with them accordingly.

This spring she graduated (Magna Cum Laude) and had a job lined up even before she had graduated. And she's now looking at apartments. We thank God daily that she is back to being her (fairly) confident, headstrong self.

Why do I share all this? Partly because I know many parents have similar trials, and those that do can know that there is help and that it can work. The other part is that hopefully you empathize with people who do have mental disorders and those who work with them -- not just anxiety disorders, but eating disorders, depression, and even more debilitating afflictions.