Deliberate Deprivation (?)

These thoughts have been popping up more and more frequently as I go through this mothering adventure and I think it's time to air them a bit.

My children are spoiled.  So spoiled.  They may not know it yet, but they most certainly are.

They are white, upper-middle class, American citizens who have advanced degree holding (or as good as) parents.  The parents are both in love and married, live together, work together in building a family and a life in a very traditional way as the father supports the family with a well paying and stable job and the mother stays at home and gives (relatively) undivided attention to their physical, spiritual, emotional, mental, intellectual need and almost all wants.  My children have an extended community of like-minded people who share the burdens and blessings of the best this life has to offer.  My children are taught by kind and patient volunteer teachers about the gospel of Jesus Christ and weekly--if not daily--sing a testimony that God loves them.  They have been given the knowledge and opportunity to pray multiple times a day in gratitude for what God has given.  My children are confident in the assurance that their parents, extended family, community, and God love them dearly.

These are some serious advantages, right from the get-go.  My children were wanted, desired, hoped for, prayed for.  They were born into a family with such incredible benefits, benefits many people only read about (if they can read) in Utopian fairy tales.  Seriously, my family is immeasurably blessed.  I know this, but how do I teach my kids so?

My problem is that with all of these immense advantages and gifts and blessings a sense of entitlement can creep in.  On both sides.  The kids are not solely to blame if they are acting spoiled.  I want to give my kids stuff.  I love them!  I love seeing them happy!  And it's so easy to give them things and time and attention.  They are stinking cute.  And a box of Legos keeps them entertained for hours upon hours.  And I don't think there is harm in giving my children extras.

The crucial point is that they are extras.  Extras.  Not necessities. 

Let me illustrate with an anecdote.  We were at Friendly's for a family dinner out.  (Incidentally, remind me never to order something fancy like salmon at a dumpy diner.  They do not know how to cook such a delicacy.  :)  )  The kids chose a milkshake for their drink.  Great!  Collin and I were prepared to spoil them with the extra treat.  Extra treat.  There it is again.  So the dinner progressed.  Much as usual, much as it goes at home, actually.  I don't know why I expected any better behavior at a restaurant in public than at home.  I had to take one kid out for poor behavior to remind him what is acceptable.  Fine and good.  Then dinner is over and the kids start clamoring for a fancy ice cream sundae.  Um, no?  You already had a milkshake and you weren't actually that good to deserve another extra extra treat.  So no, you may not have the clown sundae.  Total tantrum on two sides (Eliza is so far excluded in the spoiled rotten phase).  Exit restaurant.

I'm pretty sure that all we are required to give our children is vegetables, bread, water, a safe warm home, appropriate clothes, access to education and love.  Right?  Does that cover the basics?  So ice cream milkshakes, boxes and boxes of toys and puzzles, trips to museums, Disneyland, the beach, high quality and stylish (ha! hand-me-down) clothes, etc. are extra.  Because we love them and we want to see them happy. 

Can we as parents expect something in return?  That's a loaded question.  Hypothetical?  Theoretical?  Hopeful? 

Well, I expect some evidence of good behavior (what I deem to be good behavior), some manners, some gratitude, some sharing. 

And to be very fair to my children, I do see them learning those things. 

But I still think there is a lot of room for improvement.

The boys are 5 and 3.  Really young, still.  What are they capable of?  Tantrums are part of childhood, part of life.  I get it.  (And I understand all too well that sugar in the first place often triggers the spoiled brat behavior.) 

Sometimes I just want to say "no" for the principle of it.  I love the idea and the practice of saying "yes" more often to good things.  More books read, more hugs given, more letting them try something for themselves even though it takes longer.  But I'm also to the point of saying "no" to a lot of those extras.  So that a special treat actually is one, in comparison to every day life.

Maybe I've been reading too many tales of seriously deprived children.  Most recently, The Book Thief, about children in WWII Germany where hunger is a state of being and a piece of hard awful candy is a memorable event in their childhood.  Is it bad that I'd really kind of like my children to one day say, "oh, yes, remember that one time when we got a bit of sugar and it was amazing?"  Cause right now they forget that they had a treat at lunch and ask for one again for snack and after dinner.  (And you can bet they get a sound "no way Jose!  Silly goose." for those expectations.)  Again, I know they are just kids and all that.  But a little deprivation might go a long way in appreciating the really good stuff in life. 

We have really good stuff in this life.  We have it very good and we have a lot of it.  I think life should be full and rich and very happy.  Most would agree on that, right?  Can anyone join me in an effort to add an element of deprivation to my children's charmed existence?  Or will life in the long run be difficult enough without Mom saying, "no" to extras?

Work is the antedote, I'm thinking as I near the end of this rant.  Work and play together are the answers experts always give to this problem of entitlement, right Dad?  Work makes the result all the sweeter, and the appreciation and gratitude flows a bit more easily.  A kid with a real job to do is happier, healthier and more whole.  Maybe another Sunday evening will provide more depth on that subject.

Row Row Row Your (Paper) Boat

Davy's figured us out.  We just can't resist his sweet voice asking for a special family activity. 

Daddy was home at a reasonable hour (now that busy season is in full swing that was a very pleasant surprise) and the boys caught us in an indulgent moment.  The best kind.  Davy even had the activity all planned out.  He pulled out one of our favorite books, Curious George Rides a Bike, and flipped open to the page with the origami instructions. 

We struggled a bit through folding the papers just so, but once we had our colorful boats there was no end to the fun.  I love how much fun we had with a few pieces of paper and some great imaginations.  I didn't even think of looking at the clock to see how far past bedtime we were, which is a sign of a truly wonderful family activity.  Thanks, Davy, for the great idea and execution!

Eddy J Bear

White Collar is probably my favorite show out there.  Besides all the Jane Austen-y ones, BBC Sherlock (the new one--new episode for folding the laundry tomorrow night!), Psych, Burn Notice.  Okay, so there are a couple shows I really like.  But White Collar is up there very near the top.  I love the hat.  Neil's hat, you know?  The fedora is so classic.  So the second I saw this one on clearance at Gymboree it was as good as mine--and Edward's. 

This kid, this kid.  Such a great little buddy.  For a package of smarties he will do a photo shoot any ol' time I ask.  He's such a pro now.  He even asked for his "Grandpa-Ed" bow tie and I must say it completes the ensemble.

Project Guilt

Please tell me I'm not the only one out there with two very trivial things weighing heavily on my life.  I would feel so much better if I knew there were other people suffering the same 1st world problems as me.

First, a stack (growing when I'm not even trying) of unfinished--or barely begun--projects.  Quilts, needlework, cross stitch (is that under the same category as needlework?  Probably.), crochet pieces, knitting, scrap book junk, clothes to refashion and mend, blog updates, photos to edit, etc. etc. etc.  Don't even get me started on the Pinterest procrastination.

Second, serious guilt about those unfinished projects.  Guilt that they are taking up space in our home.  Space in my brain, space in my emotional reserves.  Seriously, I wish I cared less about those projects so that I could easily just toss 'em all and never start-and-not-finish another one again as long as I live and home-make (which are the same thing).  But, well, I'm me.  So I do care about that stuff.  And what it represents.  That there is a spark of creativity somewhere amidst the rest of every day life.  I try and keep on top of wiping surfaces, dirty laundry in hampers and clean laundry back in drawers, vacuuming, dishes, all that cleaning boring stuff.  Somewhere in the back of my mind and closet are those nice projects that I pull out when I have a spare minute.  Those spare minutes are hard to make productive, though.  I usually just settle in with a book or put on a favorite show.  I'm understanding of myself--that's what I need to do at that moment.  But then at bedtime I think back on the day and regret I didn't bring out a handiwork project instead of giving in to the lazy bone.

So now, this year, I have a huge project looming.  Called THESIS.  Ack.  So I'm going to take a vacation from this project guilt craziness.  I'm not even going to feel bad at all that those projects will likely never see the light of day.  If I do get to doing an extra creative project it will be just because.  If it never gets finished, no worries.  No expectation, no guilt.  I'm only a few weeks in to this new way of thinking and already I'm wondering if I can keep this forever--not ever feel guilt about those stacks of partially begun and half done jobs in the back of the closet.

This is also to say that this blog will take a bit more of a back seat.  I'll still try to do my minimum once a week on Sunday update, but I probably won't even write extra posts about random tangents in my head like I usually do.  (Or maybe I will because I can't help myself.  I am so articulate in my head.)

The good thing is that I've been a bit surprised as I've been going through my photo archives to back up the past year's pictures of the projects I did complete (and remember to take a picture of--bonus points!!).  Here are some of the favorites of the year 2013:

Eliza Bee's birth announcement cross stitch--finished AND framed.  booyah!

 Curb side find double seater antique bench--dull stain and yucky cover transformed by a $2 can of reject paint and some scrap fabric (plus extra cushioning).  (It's normally in our living room--I just brought it outside to take a better picture.)

Five minute fix for my old camera case--glued on a piece of an old favorite tweed blazer to cover up the label and make it a little more me.

Last minute thoughtful gift for my sister-in-law, who is expecting our newest cousin!  It took me an afternoon nap and was really fun to compose.

An old sweater got turned into this crazy wolf dude.  My favorite aspect of the whole creation is the zipper pocket for the mouth.  That's providential right there.  I cut the shape of the wolf out of the sweater and started rummaging around for stuffing when I realized that I had a whole bunch of stuffing right there in the sweater scraps themselves.  I felt so green and up-cycle savvy about that one.

And we've seen these before, but the tee-pee and the super hero doll house were big projects conceived and completed last year.

Remembering Papa Mel

Last night I received the news that my grandpa (my Dad's dad) had peacefully passed away.  I was flooded by memories of my Papa.  Some were sparked by my sister's reminiscences on Facebook--really sweet memories that made me smile.  Collin and I talked for a while last night, too, about some other special times with Papa.  This morning when the boys crawled into bed to finish waking up I was able to share some cool "Papa Mel" stories from when he was a young man and so adventurous. 

In his youth his family moved from the Dust Bowl area to California.  He joined the Navy but then flew in planes to take aerial photographs for the United States.  He traveled to many parts of the world--and there are some great photos of him and Navy buddies in places like Italian monuments.  He was a professional photographer and one of my very favorite images of my Papa is the self portrait of him in his studio surrounded by his equipment.  And the pipe!  My dad remembers Mel's time as a cop in their small town.  He was actually quite a hero, too, involved in at least one huge drug-bust.

The Papa I remember moved from Seattle to our house in Utah when I was about nine or ten.  He was a quiet but strong man.  He was easy to get along with, but rather stubborn in his way.  He was handy and I remember he was always fixing something.  Either our family of seven kids broke a whole bunch of stuff all the time, or he just found himself projects to improve our lives.  Maybe both are true. 

He kept all of us kids in bikes and was constantly repairing them.  I remember watching him, fascinated, while my bike was upside down as he used a bunch of tools and grease to get it going again. 

He was so thoughtful, keeping track of so many kids' likes and preferences.  Papa never failed to get me something horsey for birthdays and Christmas.  He was extremely generous. 

One of the crazy random memories that got me crying last night--halfway between laughter and mourning--was how he would got to Costco and buy the same amount of everything every week, no matter how much we had used the previous week.  He would get six gallons of milk, even if for whatever fluke we had only drunk three.  The fridge was always full of milk and fancy single-container yogurt and cheese and the cupboards with an assortment of treats that my mom turned a blind eye to and we children met with delight. We always, always knew those were from Papa--that my mom would never have stocked us that way!

My last visit in person to Papa was in the spring during my internship in Utah, before returning home.  He was so old, getting older.  His skin was droopy but so so soft.  His grip still very firm.  And he remembered my name.  Among so many grandchildren that I'm sure were so overwhelming to a quiet, retiring man, he remembered me. 

Papa, I'm so glad that you are back with Nana now.  I think you missed her all those years.  Thanks for being such a great grandparent, to all of us, to me.  I think we Dollahite kids were so lucky and blessed to have had you live in our home while we were growing up.  I think I took you for granted in so many ways because you were such a permanent, steady, routine in my childhood.  I do remember many of the small things you did, and the small ways in which you made me feel so secure in my place in your life.  Love you.

Edward All Dressed Up

This year for Christmas Eddy and I made two special gifts for two incredible grandpas.  Edward was incredibly cooperative (bribed by a Smartie candy package for each session) with wearing the outfit I asked of him and standing just so.  He looks so adorable in his "just like great-Grandpa Wayne" suit and "just like Abba" outfit, don't ya think?

 

 

For my dad I made this image of three generations of Dollahite boys:

And just because, some other images of the photo shoots:

I racked my brain for several days trying to think of a place that had a stairway corner like the one in Grandpa Wayne's picture.  Finally I was driving past our local library and spotted at least a step or two of the right kind of corner.  Eddy insisted on wearing the Halloween socks and since they weren't going to show in the picture I was anticipating, I let him.  Plus they made me laugh when they did peek out.

 

I've done this pose for my Dad twice now with two boys.  It is surprisingly difficult for a three year old to stand balanced on one foot.  Never mind one hand on a knee and other tucked in a pocket!

Davy Funnies

I'm positive I've laughed out loud (or probably sometimes behind my hand) at some of the things Eddy has been saying, but for whatever reason the only ones I can remember are all Davy. 

Maybe Eddy is more funny and memorable in a physical way, as I can remember loads of times practically rolling with laughter at something Eddy has done--like ricocheting off the walls when trying to run too fast through our narrow hallway, or running full on into the stroller when I spoke his name too late to check his speed, or watching him slide and totally biff it then pop up and keep going.

So yeah, maybe Eddy will get more of a highlight on the one-liners later.  For now, though, here are a few Davy-isms:

Coming home from preschool (at a friends house, with four friends) and learning that Eddy had a friend over to play:  "Little kids have all the fun."

To Eliza:  "You were born to play with me."

To Eliza:  "I want you as a baby forever."

To me:  "What you doing, Mom?"
Me:  "Getting Eliza ready for bed.  Go back to bed."
To me:  "Um, it looks like you are playing peek-a-boo with a baby."
Me:  "We were.  Go back to bed."
To me, thrown over his shoulder as he headed back to his room:  "Just so you know, that doesn't look like getting ready for bed."

Aunt Katy's Visit Tops Us Off

 

2013 was a year for visitors.  We had an amazing draw, apparently, for members of our family.  The gorgeous weather, the amazing historical sights, the coastline.  Oh, and I suppose a baby birth and some stinkin' adorable big brothers were somewhat of an attraction as well.

My youngest sister Katy (all grown up and not the baby sister I still kind of hold on to!) capped of our visitor year right before Christmas, leaving on Christmas Eve's Eve.  (Random, I heard someone call that day Christmas Eve Adam.  Weird, right?  But memorable all the same.)

She was an immeasurable help at the Harvard Natural History Museum where I tried to juggle kids and tour guide and the snapping of some photos of kids engaging in the exhibits for my thesis project.  I think I need her along with every museum trip here on out.  Katy?  You in?

She is so great with kids.  Indulgent and obliging but quite no-nonsense.  Mary Poppins-esque, really.  We braved the frigid temperatures and whatever crazy weather Boston threw at us for some awesome adventures around town and just hanging at home.

Concord was one of our stops, where Davy was lured down to Walden Pond for a quick picture but then begged to get inside.  It was C-O-L-D!

We didn't tour inside Orchard House this time, but we pointed out Louisa May Alcott's room and got a selfie picture of two of my mom's "little women" for old-time's sake.

The Old North Bridge was incredibly picturesque.  So lovely, with the sky and the snow and the partially frozen river.  There were ducks on the thin sheets of ice just chillin' and tracks of some deer leading up to the edge.  So pretty.  Also, I was impressed by how many runners passed by us on the shoveled path.  Slaves to a healthy lifestyle, some people.  I could imagine that the (normal, non-Lambourne penetrated) stillness of the area would be exhilarating and peaceful.  The boys were wild with excitement about the piles of snow, until Davy got a whole heap of it down the front of his shirt, that is.

Doesn't it look like the Minute Man has a dapper feather in his cap with that ice formation?

We showed Aunt Katy around our neighborhood.  I'm firmly converted to the be-at-least-15-minutes-outside-every-day-no-matter-what motto.  Seems to make my life as a boy mom much better.

Then on Saturday, Collin watched the boys while the girls (Liza Bee included!) explored Boston.  Boy, was it the day for it, too.  Gorgeous, gorgeous.  We walked around without coats on and just reveled in the fun of the city all dolled up for the holidays.  Perfect combination.

So I love this city.  Said that before.  And every time I think I'm ready to walk away from this place and try on a new location, Boston steals a bit more of my love.  Case in point.  Santa hats on our ducklings?  Aww!

One extra fun discovery (I'd never actually taken the time to find previously) was the cobblestone street in Beacon Hill that is beautiful and exclusive.  The residents are notorious for hating people take pictures (or at least elaborate photo-sessions) on the road.  So we snuck a few.  I think I drove Katy crazy with asking her to take just one more of me and Eliza: "Lower, lower!  Put the camera down further.  More cobblestone, more road.  Think artsy!"

Besides Eliza's presence in the show, Katy was the best addition to the Amahl shepherd chorus.  It was fun to relearn/review the music with her and have her extra hands to help with the kids on and off stage.

We just drove around Mt. Auburn Cemetery, with a quick stop at the colonnade memorial to Mary Baker Eddy.  I wish I'd brought my real camera and made the kids get out of the car as the light was so beautiful.  Then again, it would not have been a happy session, so maybe not.  We'll have to try to get back again before we leave the area, though.

The evenings we spent quietly at home in front of cheesy Christmas movies and copious amounts of snack food was well spent as Katy and her mad needlework skills helped me finish the tee-pee.

I have loved all the visitors and visits we've had in the years we've been here, far away from regular interaction with our family.  It's great to both feel comfortable as tour-guide and simultaneously discover uncharted territory and see it all with fresh eyes.  And as much as Skype and email and phone calls, etc. are great for keeping in touch, there is nothing like sitting and talking with someone face to face in person.