January's Life Lessons

February is the least favorite month of the year for many people, with the holidays well behind us, spring and summer vacations too far out in front of us, and the typical cold, gray weather hanging heavily.  But for me, at least this year, I'm very glad to turn the page on January and welcome February in. January was filled with an unexpected series of life lessons for me this year, and I need these slow days of February as time to rest, recover, and reflect. 

I started the year feeling physically not all that great, although I was optimistic and full of plans.  Unfortunately, my body decided it needed more of my attention and my health went downhill quickly -- I found myself without the energy or mental clarity to do even the simplest of activities:  prepare a meal for my family, run errands, read or write.  For several years now I have been struggling with what I thought was a not-so-serious condition that compromised my immune system, but ever-increasing symptoms toward the end of 2012 and beginning of 2013 drove me to seek out more information and help from other sources in the healthcare community.  Now, after several weeks and many appointments with MDs, naturopaths, and nurse practitioners, I am on the road to understanding what is going on (a little more serious than what I originally thought) and am working with a practitioner who I trust to help me figure out the rest.  

So, the good news is that over the past few days I've begun to feel slightly better, and even though (or really, because) I still have to spend most of my day sitting, my mind is clear enough for the first time in weeks to reflect on what I've been going through and begin to understand that there are some important life lessons to be gleaned from my recent experience.  The first, and most important, is that nobody cares about my health more than I do (nor should they!).  Yes, my family cares and my doctors care, but I'm the one who needs to push, and question, and drive, and push some more -- nobody else can do that for me.  My husband certainly tries, and deserves a medal for how well he has supported me, taken care of me, and even filled in for me when I was too weak or tired to do so, but the ultimate responsibility for my health rests with me.  Knowing what's normal for my body, educating myself, asking lots of questions (even when they are discouraged), and not allowing someone's strong opinions to sway me from what I feel to be true or helpful are really important.  

Which brings me to the next of January's life lessons:  healthy skepticism is, well, healthy.  If someone's opinions or recommendations don't seem right, even if they are an "expert" (actually, especially if they claim to be an expert!), you need to be skeptical, and take the time to do your own research, get other opinions, and ask as many questions as you need to.  I consulted five people from different areas of healthcare over the course of six weeks, and each one, without fail, told me emphatically why their diagnosis and recommendations were right, and why the other opinions I had gathered (and asked them about) were wrong!  Had I gone against my own judgment and intuition, and just stopped with any of these first assessments, I would be much worse off right now, and risking further and more serious health issues.  It turns out that each of them had a piece of the puzzle, but the person who is now treating me was able to see all of the pieces together (and identified a few others, too).

And the third life lesson of the month?  We are not built to live in a constant state of stress. Our bodies and minds are designed to help us survive short periods of fight or flight situations -- to kill the bear, or run from the tiger.  We are not designed for the non-stop, worry-filled lifestyles we all have.  This is not news to me, as it probably isn't to you -- magazine articles and other sources of health information are always warning about the negative impacts of stress.  And even though I've really tried to be aware of this and make healthier choices, I still have more to do, I guess, because the severity of my current health issues are a direct result of too much stress.  So, as I continue to recover, I've decided it's time for a whole new operating system. What does that mean?  It means living differently, from the moment I get up to the moment I go to bed; it means basing my thoughts and behavior on a new and improved set of beliefs and expectations.  I'm thinking about it as "reformatting my hard drive" -- loading a whole new operating system whose functionality and features I will consciously choose. There's no doubt this will require a lot of soul-searching and tough choices, but for me it's not an option, and I'm actually (kind of) looking forward to it because I know I will feel better, and I also know that my kids will benefit as well. 

As I've mentioned in other posts, both of my boys are very emotionally aware, and I've noticed how my emotional states impact theirs, both positively and negatively.  When I am calm and centered, they are much more relaxed and happy; when I am rushing around or frazzled from doing too many things, they become more emotional or quiet.  Whoever first described children as sponges was entirely correct, and I tend to forget how much of an impact the example my husband and I set has on them.  I'm hoping that the changes I make now result in our days moving at a slower, more peaceful pace (which I can already see happening), but I'm also taking a longer-term perspective.  The choices I make and tools I employ will hopefully set an example that the boys will remember when they are adults and making lifestyle choices for themselves and their families.  So, even though the weather outside is damp and gray this month, it's perfectly-timed for me -- I have lots of thinking, and even more resting, to do!

If you are not your own doctor, you are a fool.

~  Hippocrates (c.460 - 400 BC)

My Favorite Holiday

My family and I have never spent much energy celebrating the New Year's holiday -- no loud parties, horn blowing or confetti for us this time of year.  Instead, we tend to prefer a quieter approach, usually involving a nice dinner, a couple of glasses of champagne, and a normal bed time (often before midnight even rolls around).  This doesn't mean, however, that the beginning of the new year isn't significant for us.  In fact, it's probably my favorite holiday.

After the busyness, excitement, and fast pace of of the weeks from Thanksgiving through Christmas, a quiet New Year's Eve is something I look forward to, not just with a sense of relief that there are no more gifts to be wrapped or elaborate meals to be planned (although there is some of that), but mostly with a sense of anticipation. I know many people, most of whom are still high on Christmas adrenaline, get excited about making resolutions for the new year, and even more seem to enjoy making snide remarks about the practice, but I take genuine pleasure in the process of reflecting on the year that has passed, and especially like the sense of starting fresh in a new year.  It's like spring cleaning, but on the inside.  

New Year's Day is when I sit down with my old calendar and my new calendar side-by-side and, while writing in the birthdays and anniversaries for the coming year, I also reflect on the events and highlights of the past year -- the "moments".  While this could be construed as a melancholy or overly-sentimental ritual, for me it's a tradition that gives me time to think about what went well this year and what didn't, to take stock and put to rest any lingering regrets or concerns. It ends (rather symbolically) with me putting the old calendar in the trash and hanging the new calendar on the wall. I always come away from the process with a feeling of lightness, a sense of having a "clean slate" with which to start the new year (the same feeling I have when my closets are clean!)

And so, as my internal cleaning process begins on the final day of this year, I can say that 2012 has been a pretty good year, with significantly more positives than negatives.  I truly have a lot to be grateful for -- there's really not much I would change in my life.  It's also been a year of a few challenges and losses that I am happy to put behind me.  My personal intentions for 2013 come primarily from these challenges and the insights I gained from them, with an emphasis on decreasing the things that cause stress (an overly busy schedule, worrying about unimportant things) and increasing the time I spend doing things that make me happy and give me energy (writing, painting, hiking, reading.)  Also on the list, and more in the category of "goals" are:

• Performing 100 random acts of kindness (this is a family goal that our boys will be doing this with us, and we've already begun!),
• Developing my new "Teach Your Own" web site, and
• Writing and publishing a homeschooling curriculum.

I hope that you are also beginning 2013 with a sense of hope and excitement.  May you have a smooth and happy transition into the new year, whatever your New Year's traditions might be.  

Every man should be born again on the first day of January. Start with a fresh page. 

-Henry Ward Beecher

 

Our Children Are Watching

My initial shock and horror about the tragic events this week, beginning with the mall shooting near where I live followed by the even more horrific school shootings in Connecticut, are slowly giving way to hope today.   As our elected leaders take the first tentative steps to discussing gun control, and public demonstrations demanding more reasonable policies grow in number and strength, I am optimistic that maybe, finally, we've reached a turning point in the United States.   

Sadness and fear (especially fear), however, have been my predominant emotions over the past few days, particularly as the first reports of each of these events were breaking.  And for a short time, I actually considered the possibility of buying a gun.  If violence in formerly-safe places like shopping malls and schools is going to be more common, shouldn't I take steps to protect myself and my children? My husband and my brother (a police officer) have been encouraging me to get a gun for several years now, and I have resisted so far, but this past weekend my resolve began to wane.  And apparently I wasn't alone -- several news outlets reported record-breaking gun and ammunition sales in recent days, many to first-time owners.

I have decided that I will not be joining the ranks of gun owners, though, for one main reason:  I do not want to be a person who succumbs to fear. Buying guns out of fear perpetuates the problem by putting more guns on the street.  The only way out of this is to recognize and accept that we cannot prevent bad things from happening, and guns do not guarantee our safety.  As scary and difficult as these events are for all of us, I strongly believe that this is a time for us to find our strength, disengage from the cycle of violence and fear, and act based on what we value.  This is an opportunity for us to connect with our better natures, not just for our own personal growth and peace of mind, but also for our childrens'. 

Child development experts are advising us to help our children through this time by reassuring them that they are safe, that these events are rare.  This is true, and I know many families are having these types of conversations with their kids.  But how can we deliver this message in a believable way if we are reacting to our own fear, arming ourselves and our teachers (as some people are proposing)?  Our words become meaningless and our actions are what our kids will remember -- they are watching us closely.  In short, how we respond to these events will significantly impact how our children view the world and, perhaps more importantly, how they will manage difficult times when they are the adults. 

So, as I've been working through my own emotions I also have been talking to my boys about fear, describing the differences between healthy fear and irrational fear, and how to manage each.  I have shared only the smallest amount of information with them about the recent shootings, and have emphasized in each conversation the wonderful advice that Mr. Rogers left us:  "In any tragic event, look for the helpers. They are always there."  I will also make sure that they see me taking action to support what I believe in -- writing letters and signing petitions for gun control laws, advocating for more support for the mentally ill.  This is the only healthy way through tragedies like this, and this is the example I want to set for my sons.

We gain strength, and courage, and confidence by each experience 

in which we really stop to look fear in the face... 

we must do that which we think we cannot.

~ Eleanor Roosevelt

The Signal and the Noise

Have you ever wondered why you are so exhausted after an expedition through Costco or Home Depot?  If you're like me, going into one of these box stores for even one or two items zaps your energy faster than any sleeping pill on the market.  If we could bottle this effect, we would have a nation of very well-rested people!  For years now I've just accepted this post-shopping lethargy as a fact of life without really understanding why it happens. Until recently.

A few weeks ago I was watching an interview with a man who shadowed Barack Obama for several weeks as part of the research he was doing for a book about the President.  During the interview he mentioned that Mr. Obama intentionally only wears navy or gray suits because he has so many important decisions to make each day, he wants to reduce the amount of energy he spends on less-critical choices.  At this moment it dawned on me that all of us have a limited amount of decision-making energy, which is why shopping can be so exhausting -- even on a quick trip through the store, we make hundreds of small decisions both consciously and unconsciously:  What part of the store am I heading toward? Should I grab a cart? Oh, light bulbs are on sale -- do I need some?  How many do I have at home?  Is this the right aisle?  And so on, so that by the time we return to our cars, we are entirely drained!

Great! Mystery solved, right?  Yes, but then I started wondering about the total number of decisions I make on a typical day, and decided to try to count them one day.  So how many did I make?  No idea. I was so worn out from counting after the first hour, I gave up the quest.  But upon reflection I did learn one thing -- most of the decisions I was spending my energy on are really unimportant. I mean really unimportant.  Should I get dressed now or after I eat breakfast?  Does this box go into the garbage or recycling? Do I want strawberry or raspberry yogurt?  And the learning didn't stop there, because I also realized how much worrying was involved in many of these decisions.  In short, there's a whole lot of noise in my head all day about things that don't matter.

So now I've made another decision:  I will minimize the number of decisions I make every day and stop worrying that some sort of calamity will occur if I don't manage every last detail of our lives during every moment of every day.  These details are just the "noise" that distracts me from the "signal"  (to borrow from Nate Silver's book title "The Signal and the Noise"), or what is really meaningful.  I am freeing myself from small decisions and worries, which will allow me to be more present and available for the big ones. How will I do this?  I'll keep you posted -- I'm still deciding...

Learning to Say "Go Ahead!"

I have a confession to make -- I don't pay my kids an allowance.  I know this may sound surprising given that something like 80% of kids in this country earn allowances for doing chores. This doesn't mean that my boys are off the hook, though -- they do daily chores, too, and are experts at setting the table, loading and unloading the dishwasher, sorting laundry, taking out the trash.  I just don't pay them for it.  My philosophy is that we are all part of the family and, as such, have a role in taking care of our house. 

Without an allowance, the logical assumption would be that my husband and I buy everything for them.  Well, not so much.  We certainly provide everything they need and, for birthdays and holidays, some of what they want.  But otherwise, they cover most of their own expenses now.  Cool new Nerf gun? Ninja t-shirt? Mats for their "warrior training" space?  It's all on them.  For something expensive, like a new bike or the Trackers' Earth apprenticeship program that Sam is interested in, we negotiate a cost-sharing split -- sometimes it's 50/50, sometimes it's 80/20. 

So how do they come up with the money to pay for these things?  They have their own business.  Last year, when Sam was 10, he started asking questions about jobs and how people earn money.  We explained that most people work for someone else, but that some people start their own businesses.  Around that same time the opportunity came up to participate in an Entrepreneur's Fair through our homeschooling group, so we signed both boys up immediately, thinking this would give them a deeper understanding of business concepts.  They each decided what they wanted to make, purchased their own materials (with a loan from their parents), made their own products (holiday decorations), and sold them at the fair.  They learned first-hand about cost of goods sold, labor, marketing and sales, loan debt (yes, we charged them interest!), and profit.  But surprisingly, what they really came away with, was an enthusiasm for entrepreneurship.  In fact, we barely made it to the car after the fair before both boys were brainstorming other businesses they could start!

Now, I should pause here for a moment because, if you know anything about our family, you're probably guessing that my husband and I had a significant role in encouraging this idea of starting a business, given that we've both have a history of starting our own businesses.  You'll just have to take my word for it -- the idea never crossed my mind.  Yes, I wanted them to learn about business, and apply some math concepts in the process, and Dave wanted them to see what it's like to really work. But neither of us had any ideas about an ongoing venture.  

So, we followed their lead, and helped them brainstorm ideas for a couple of weeks, until we finally landed on the idea that is now the company called "The Can Men". Every Tuesday night the boys take their clients' trash and recycling cans to the curb, and then return them to their original places the next day after the trash trucks have come through the neighborhood. To start, they had to figure out their own pricing, develop their own flyer, and then knock on doors to find clients.  Most of the people in our neighborhood signed on, and now the boys make a nice monthly income.  Sam is technically the business owner, which means he took the lead on the sales, does the monthly invoicing, and earns 60% of the revenue.  Tips (which they get regularly) are split 50/50.  And best of all, there were no start-up costs!

Now that "The Can Men" has been in business for about six months, I know that what they're learning is immeasurable -- there's absolutely nothing I could teach them, or that a teacher in a classroom could teach them, that would compare.  And whatever they choose to do professionally in their lives, whether they work for someone else or not, there's no doubt that they're forming the foundation for their choices now.  If your kids have entrepreneurial leanings, or even if you're not sure, I highly encourage you to consider and explore the possibilities with them.  There's no doubt that you'll be opening new doors into their future.  Still not sure?  Take five minutes to check out this video of young entrepreneurs talking about their families:  Entrepreneurs Love Their Parents 

Getting started may be as simple as just learning to say "Go ahead!"

Finding Our Pond

Last week my husband sent me a link to a video that was not only funny, but touching as well -- I was actually crying tears of joy by the end of it.  Maybe you've seen it, too?  It's a video showing a group of ducks, rescued from an animal hoarder, experiencing water for the first time.  At first they're not sure what to make of the pond, but then suddenly, they get it. It's as if they're thinking "Wow! My weird webbed feet and all these feathers totally make sense now!"  (Click here to see it.)

I've been thinking about this video all week because I've realized it's a truly great metaphor for life.  All of us need to find our pond -- the thing we're meant to do, the place we're meant to be.  And our kids need to find their ponds, too. 

Here's a great example.  I have a nephew who most people would describe as "high energy."  Or, as my husband puts it, "all thrust, no vector."   He's a really sweet 8-year-old, with a genuinely bright mind, who only has two settings -- "on" and "off".  This sometimes gets him into trouble, especially at school, although he never has bad intentions.  He's just trying to manage all that energy in his body.  He's tried out a few sports and liked them well enough, but this season my brother signed him up for football for the first time.  After the first two weeks of practice I asked him if he was enjoying it, and his response was "Oooh, yesssss!"  So yesterday we went and watched one of his games, and it was like watching one of those ducks in the video dipping his head and flapping his wings -- he was in his pond!  For him, all of his physical energy and impulses suddenly make sense.

Unfortunately, as adults, it's up to us to find our own ponds -- nobody is coming to rescue us and take us to them. As a starting point, we need to think about some key questions:  What are we really good at? When do we feel like life makes sense?  Where are we at peace?  The answers are different for each of us, and can be deceptively difficult to find.  I don't think I even knew these questions mattered until I was well into my 20s, and even then I didn't have the first clue about the answers until I was in my 30s.  The difficulty for me was that my parents both had very strong ideas about who I was and who I should be, so my true abilities and desires were buried. When I did finally start figuring things out, though --- ahhh, it was like a warm bath!

And even if we're still searching for our own ponds, how great would it be if we could help our kids answer these questions early in their lives?  I don't mean the heavy "What do you want to be when you grow up?" types of questions, but the more basic questions that will help them answer the bigger ones later on. What do they enjoy doing now?  When do they feel most happy and calm?  For both of my boys, their answers are literally "being in the water" -- Sam loves swimming, and Ben loves diving.  Also, Sam loves reading and needs some time alone every day; Ben is more social, and has a natural care-taking instinct.  As they grow older, I'll need to help them continue to identify their personal strengths and loves so they can uncover their paths to fulfilling, joyful lives.  The hard part of this is making sure to stay in the role of "facilitator" -- I can't find the answers for them.

So where is your pond? Is it a place, a hobby, a profession? How did you find it? And have your kids found theirs yet?  Share it here -- maybe your story can help someone else find the place where they feel like flapping their wings...!



 

Warrior Training

My family and friends are looking at me with expressions of bemusement lately, and a little confusion as well, when I tell them that we are now including "warrior training" as part of our homeschooling curriculum.  For the past year and a half, our approach to learning has been pretty standard -- lots of math, reading, and history at the kitchen table, with a healthy dose of "real world" application.  But after a recent conversation with a psychologist friend of ours about the psychology of boys and how to help them thrive, my husband and I decided to add a new "warrior" dimension to their education. So now, in addition to their regular school work and sports (diving, swimming, and martial arts), the past two weeks have also included:  bouldering, archery, laser tag, Ninjitsu "night training", and an aerial ropes course (complete with ziplines!). 

I'm assuming you have the same perplexed expression on your face that I've seen so many times recently. "This is school?" you might ask, or "Why are you doing this, exactly?"  The short answer is because they're boys, and boys need physical challenges that not only allow them to release energy, but that also connect to their male spirit.  Adventure and risk-taking are hard-wired into them, and showing them how to channel these impulses into healthy and "manly" activities builds their competence and confidence, and feeds their soul.

The physical benefits are truly secondary to the other types of growth we've already noticed.  Building strength and endurance are certainly outcomes of this type of training, but they were already getting many of those benefits through their regular sports and play.  The difference in the "warrior" activities is that there's an emotional component -- the boys are facing fears, exploring limits (physical and mental), and learning what it means to manage their emotions.  As our friend put it, "The goal is to help them develop a sense of strength and capability, which will have benefits in all areas of their life, including school work and relationships."

And building this sense of capability is key for boys (and girls as well).  Tony Deis, the founder of Trackers Earth, a wonderful outdoor education organization where my sons have attended summer camp for the past two years, recently wrote: "We need more educational settings where the teachers believe it is about helping kids become more capable, not regurgitating transient facts, search engine results or philosophy."   For me, this means letting Sam and Ben think for themselves and figure it out on their own as much as possible, whether it's doing math or climbing a wall.  

But before you decide to embark on your own form of "warrior training", I should warn you that it's not an easy path for parents (especially moms).  Why?  Because parental involvement needs to be minimal.  If the activity is about us wanting them to do something, or protecting them too much, it won't work.  The goal is to give kids room to make their own choices, fail (maybe even get hurt), and try again. Our job is strictly to give them an age-appropriate venue, and then back away.  The upside, however, makes it totally worth it -- both of my boys have been fully thriving the past few weeks, and they even cleaned their "warrior rooms" without complaint!

"The only way to make a difference with a boy 

is to give him powerful experiences that speak to his inner life, 

that speak to his soul..."

("Raising Cain", Dan Kindlon and Michael Thompson)