Sheila | Heart of the Matter

December 11, 2009 By Sheila 8 Comments

I was not a happy teenager. I didn’t particularly like the high school scene, the ridiculous courses, the boring teachers, and the regimented schedule. I used to dream of finally being a grown up and being allowed to make my own decisions. I idolized adulthood.

Then I hit eighteen and nothing magical happened. Surely I’d feel like a grown up in university, though, right? Or maybe when I landed my first full-time job?

Nope.

Many of my friends seemed comfortable in their skin. They knew who they were, and they weren’t afraid of letting others know where they stood. But I was still waiting for some magical writing from heaven to appear and label me, once and for all, an adult, so that I could feel capable, mature, and competent, too.

Unfortunately the writing failed to materialize. And yet, sometime in the last few decades, I must have crossed an invisible line. It may not have been accompanied by thunderous applause, but I definitely passed from mini-me to fully-me. Even though I can’t define the precise mode of this miraculous transformation, I can tell you the results.

I knew I was a grown up when it came to men when I could stop asking, “Does he like me?”, and start asking, “Do I like him?” And when the answer was yes, I married him.

When it came to children, I knew I was a grown up when I stopped worrying what other people thought of my kids’ behavior or development and just concentrated on being the best mom I could be.

I was a grown up, too, when I stopped pulling out the makeup and the mousse to impress other people, but just started doing it to make myself feel pretty. When I started prioritizing feeling good in my body, I felt like a grown up in it, too.

I was a grown up when I could calmly talk to a salesperson about what their establishment had done that was beyond the pale, instead of letting them walk all over me.

I was a grown up when I could invite people over for dinner and not worry about whether they’d like what I prepared. I’d just cook what I liked, and figured everybody else would make do.

I was a grown up when I called my mom for her advice, and not her approval.

I was a grown up when the fact that my father didn’t understand me became a cause for pity for him, rather than for angst, anger, or introspection on my behalf.

I was a grown up when I started letting myself dream dreams, instead of living out the dreams other people thought I should have.

I felt like a grown up when I acted like others were my equals, instead of feeling insecure around those who were of higher rank or status than I was.

I felt like a grown up when I could pray with other women in my church, even older ones, and feel like I could offer some counsel.

I felt like a grown up when I could run into an acquaintance and have a conversation and not remember until the next day that I was supposed to be mad at them. I guess I don’t carry grudges the same way anymore.

And I know I’m a grown up now that I can admit my faults to other people rather than trying to pretend to be perfect. I know now that there’s no point in pretending.

I felt like a grown up now because I’m realizing that this isn’t my life; the next life is my real life. This is only preparation. So I think I can let go of things a lot easier now and not worry so much what other people think.

And I knew I was a grown up when I stopped worrying about whether or not I was one. I don’t have to wait for my life to start; I have to make my life what I believe God wants it to be. This is my life; it’s up to me to live it. After all, I am a grown up, even if it’s been a long time coming.

Sheila blogs daily at To Love, Honor and Vacuum. And you won’t want to miss her podcasts! She homeschools her two daughters, writes, speaks, and knits. Preferably all at the same time.

October 20, 2009 By Sheila 10 Comments

They say that love makes the world go round, but I think they’re wrong. I think the majority of the things women do are motivated by guilt.

We women feel guilty about everything. In fact, they say that the most common emotion women feel is guilt, and if you’re a woman, and you’re not feeling particularly guilty right now, just think about it. I’m sure you could talk yourself into plenty of guilt in two minutes flat.

Do you have laundry waiting to be folded? Laundry still in the washing machine, after three days? And don’t even mention the ironing. Then there are those thank you notes that we forgot to send after our wedding sixteen and a half years ago, which guarantee that at every family reunion since we have avoided Aunt Peggy, because we know she remembers our transgression.

And what about parenting? Motherhood, of course, is the guilt that keeps on giving. We feel guilty for locking ourselves in the bathroom, just to get some breathing space. We feel guilty for not serving vegetables for dinner. We feel guilty when we yell at our kids. We feel guilty when we forget to teach math for three days, forget to mark their work for a week, or forget to start homeschooling until 10:30 because we were on the computer.

We feel guilty for relaxing, for reading a novel and leaving the housework behind, for spending money on a manicure instead of on paying down debt, and for feeding everyone cereal for dinner.

Those of us who are older feel guilty for all the missed opportunities we had when we were younger. We feel guilty for not saving more, not loving more, not giving more. We feel guilty for letting our parents down. We feel guilty for letting ourselves down, our kids down, or our friends down. We feel guilty for our health deteriorating, and not being able to do all that we used to.

We feel guilty for folding our towels in half and then half again, instead of in thirds like our mothers taught us. We feel guilty for rolling the fitted sheets up into a ball and then throwing them in the linen closet instead of folding them properly.

And most of all, the number one thing that women feel guilty about is our weight. We feel guilty that we like food, that we eat food, and that we want food.

What does all this guilt do to us? We have three possible responses: the first is that we examine the guilt, talk to God about it, take the legitimate to heart, and then change our lives for the better. That one’s pretty rare.

The second is that we feel so guilty that we deflect that guilt by getting mad at everyone else to ensure that the grumpiness is spread around evenly. That one’s pretty common.

And then there’s the most common of all: we run around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to do the impossible, with the hope that if we just keep it up, the guilt will stop. But it won’t, because what we’re demanding of ourselves is superhuman. And there really isn’t such a thing as SuperWoman. There is only Exhausted Woman, and I don’t particularly like her.

Men find it easier to shrug guilt off, go out on the porch, and relax. They don’t tend to bother themselves with silly things like housework standards, menu standards, or etiquette. And they don’t even have to go through labour! They’ve got it easy. But perhaps they just aren’t as susceptible to this particular foible as women are. Instead of listening to God for what we should do, we tend to let society, the media, and the church culture set our standards. It’s no wonder we feel like we’re always falling short.

Maybe, we should try, just for one day, to be a man and not to feel guilt about stupid things. Let’s stop listening to those voices in our head and just seek out God’s voice. It’s worth the effort. If only someone would fold the laundry for me while I tried.

Sheila blogs daily at To Love, Honor and Vacuum. And you won’t want to miss her podcasts! She homeschools her two daughters, writes, speaks, and knits. Preferably all at the same time.

August 12, 2009 By Sheila 7 Comments

By the time you read this, I’ll be back, but right now my family is preparing to go camping. The girls are collecting the towels, bathing suits, and bug repellent, my husband is filling the coolers, and me? I’m dusting my bedroom.

If that doesn’t make sense to you, it’s because you are missing the crucial nesting gene. I have one, which may surprise most who know me, because it only manifests itself when we are preparing to leave.

On a normal day I may be perfectly content living in a home with stacks of unopened mail scattered around the dining room, dust bunnies plotting a takeover of my house under my bed, and unidentifiable contents in Tupperware containers lurking near the back of my fridge.

But when we are leaving these things are absolutely out of bounds, as anyone with any self-respect would agree. Unfortunately, my husband and my children do not share the gene, and so they have the gall to become frustrated with me, and to express this frustration in unpleasant ways when they think that I am letting them “do all the work” of packing and “holding us up” and “wasting time” instead of actually contributing to the camping cause.

Mysteriously, they fail to see how my actions contribute to a holiday. After all, what’s a holiday if you have to come home to a messy house? So as I’m collecting our clothes, I notice the dust more than I do on normal days. Or when I’m piling suitcases in the hallway I notice the floors could really use a mopping. Don’t even get me started on what happens when I go through the fridge to figure out what we need in the coolers.

By the time we actually exit our premises, then, our house is in tip top shape. And yet instead of lauding me for this spurt of high energy cleaning action, my family feels resentment because they want to “get going”. Honestly.

My husband even had the gall to inform me that one day he is going to announce a magnificent, surprise holiday, just so that I would clean the house. Then, with all the suitcases packed and all the floors sparkly, he would tell me that we’re going to stay home, because it’s so nice to live in now.

I was not impressed.

Cleaning, though, is not all I do when we’re preparing to depart. I also have that compulsion to attend to all the errands I’ve been nonchalantly ignoring. I may have decided they’re not urgent for three or four weeks running, but when we’re about to leave the house for five days, they become a priority. And since I’m running to the bank, why not check out the sales at some of my favorite stores, too?

Then, of course, there’s the email I must answer, and the thank you notes I must write leftover from business engagements a few months ago. In short, whenever we go on vacation, my to-do list magically gets to-done.

Naturally this makes vacation preparedness a very stressful activity, and one might wonder if getaways were even worth it. But I know the answer to that one. It’s found in sitting around a fire, eating s’mores and not caring if you get marshmallow on your sweatshirt. It’s found in playing cards inside the camper when it rains. It’s found in getting up one morning and reading an entire novel just because you can. It’s found in having time to walk, hand in hand, with my husband for hours because there’s nothing else to do. Vacations are bliss. And I’m just glad that, thanks to me, coming home isn’t so bad, either.

Sheila blogs daily at To Love, Honor and Vacuum. And you won’t want to miss her podcasts! She homeschools her two daughters, writes, speaks, and knits. Preferably all at the same time.

July 15, 2009 By Sheila 3 Comments

Most of the really important moments in our lives happen by “accident”.

A few years ago we were driving when the sky suddenly darkened and the air began to vibrate. We pulled over, stepped out of the car, and looked up at thousands upon thousands of geese in V’s, honking as they headed south. We watched, in silence, in awe of nature. I’ll never forget it.

I still remember, too, the last time one of my children fell asleep in my arms, or when, as toddlers, they hugged me and said, “I’m so glad you’re my mommy.” I also recall the first conversation I ever had with Rebecca. Only four months of age, she was lying on a playmat, peering at me intensely and cooing. I would reply, pause, and then she would begin again, kicking her little legs as she “talked”. She kept up her end for quite some time. She told me she loved me, and I reciprocated.

I even fell in love by accident. Keith was my best friend for a year first, and one day, as we were walking, I realized we were more than that. This was the man that God had chosen for me. But our relationship started apparently by accident.

We don’t tend to like accidents. We like planning, vocations, callings, mission statements, and schedules. We like to know what God is going to do, and when, so we can be sure to pack for it. But what if many of the wonderful blessings that God wants to give us in our lives aren’t things that we can easily schedule? What if the beauty of life really is in the apparently random moments that we share?

As Christians, we know that nothing is truly random. Yet that doesn’t mean that God expects us to rigidly plan every moment, either. I think many of the wonderful things God gives us are only given when we have the time and attention to receive them. Just as Jesus took time just to talk to people, with no other agenda, so we need to make sure our lives are filled with downtime, too.

After all, I couldn’t have fallen in love with my husband if I hadn’t been spending hours and hours with him, just talking. I couldn’t have had that conversation with my baby daughter if I hadn’t been playing on the floor with her. And my daughter couldn’t have fallen asleep in my arms if we hadn’t spent time cuddling, for no reason. Accidents, in other words, take time. Lots and lots of it.

We may think quality time is better than quantity time, but that’s a crock. Let’s say that you decide that Tuesday afternoon you are going to dedicate to quality time with your children to connect with your monosyllabic-speaking teenager and your hyper 8-year-old. If those children, however, have not shared with you in a while, they may not want to open up right then. They need time to process things before they talk. They need to trust you, and that only happens when you spend time with no agenda in mind except being with them.

Jesus put people first, not things. His mission was not only in accomplishing His work on the cross; it was also in making all those around Him feel loved, comfortable, and cared about. And that meant putting more mundane concerns aside. It meant taking time to let those good accidents happen.

Most of our happy accidents occur because we adopt Jesus’ view on relationships. They happen because we stop spending so much time in front of the screen and start hanging out with those we love. They happen when we stop being so busy. They happen when we laugh together. So I want to leave room for accidents, because precious memories are priceless. That’s God’s kind of beauty, and it’s better than anything I could have ever planned.

Sheila blogs daily at To Love, Honor and Vacuum. And you won’t want to miss her podcasts! She homeschools her two daughters, writes, speaks, and knits. Preferably all at the same time.

July 7, 2009 By Sheila 1 Comment

If I were to say the words “summer” and “childhood”, what would come to mind? Maybe fishing, or playing by a lazy river, or swimming at a beach. Maybe exploring some old woods, or playing in a barn, or jumping on a bike and taking off for the afternoon.

Yet while these activities may sound typical, I don’t think they necessarily are anymore. Today’s children have far less freedom to play outdoors than children from eras past, and many simply don’t go through these rites of passage we would normally associate with this season.

I think that’s a pity, because feeling a connection with nature should be an intrinsic part of growing up. Those lazy days where you do nothing but explore do mean something. You’re learning about life. You’re becoming independent. You’re understanding more of the world.

Today we let our kids understand the world not by experiencing it but by watching it. They play video games or they watch television, but rarely do they discover anything by themselves. Rural kids probably have the most freedom, and thus the most adventure. They have a lot of land to explore, and not as many obvious dangers. Kids in smaller cities may at least get outdoors, but it’s often because they’re playing on a soccer team, or frolicking in a park with parents watching on. Maybe they play in the sprinkler in the backyard, or climb a tree, or hang out at somebody’s pool. It’s not exactly adventure. And in the big cities where one can grow up without ever riding a bike or seeing a cow it’s even worse.

A new study in Britain has found that children’s territories are shrinking. The amount of area that kids know well is becoming much smaller because kids are no longer allowed to explore. I don’t mean to belittle our worries about children coming to harm; little wakes me up in the middle of night more often than a nightmare that something has happened to my kids. But the most likely danger is not that someone will steal our kids but that our kids will lose out on what it means to be a child. When kids don’t explore, they lose opportunities to take risks or act independently. Instead, they grow more and more obese as they enjoy childhood from their backyards or their couches. And we have a responsibility from God to help them grow into healthy, independent adults.

Every summer our family takes several camping trips, and one episode in particular stands out in my mind. My daughters and their friends asked if they could take nets and look for minnows in the inlet, and I consented, grateful for the time to pull out my paperback. As they splashed in the water, they looked up to see a group of about fifty children sporting identical “day camp” T-shirts, who had been bused up for the day. These children were all sitting in a circle munching a snack, while their leaders arranged for a twenty minute canoe ride. Here they were, in the great outdoors, and they could only enjoy it by permission.

This isn’t the leaders’ fault. Supervising fifty kids is no easy task. But it begs the question, what kind of children are we creating if most lose out on those days of adventure? We’re certainly not raising any Huck Finns or Tom Sawyers or even Anne Shirleys anymore.

As homeschoolers, we’ve always tried to let our children have more freedom. They’re less likely to be forced to sit passively in a big group, ignoring the wonders of nature that await them. But we shouldn’t get lackadaisical and assume that just because they’re homeschooled our children will explore. After all, the computer and the TV lure our kids in, too, if we’re not careful.

God created a beautiful, big, wide world for us to enjoy, and in these few months where the weather is actually decent, our kids need to explore it. I’m not sure how to balance that with concerns for their safety, but we have to at least try. So take them camping. Go for a long bike ride and let them play by the stream. Visit a farm. Hike in the woods. Build sandcastles. Skip stones. That’s real summer. Don’t let them miss it.

Check out my article on page 21 of the funky flipbook edition of Heart of the Matter Magazine.

Sheila blogs daily at To Love, Honor and Vacuum. And you won’t want to miss her podcasts! She homeschools her two daughters, writes, speaks, and knits. Preferably all at the same time.

April 7, 2009 By Sheila Leave a Comment

In the springtime the butterflies return from their southern migration, flitting on fresh blooms like a welcoming parade for the new season. But many of our children live with butterflies year round. Not the monarch variety this time, but those that buzz inside children’s stomachs. Will I find friends at church? Will I get the part in the play? Will anyone come to my party?

Our reaction to these kinds of stresses often determines our enjoyment of life. I witnessed this firsthand last summer when our family embarked on an adventure to Kenya, where we worked in a children’s home filled with kids whose parents have died of AIDS. In order to take such a trip, we were all required to get several shots. Being a parent who believes in full disclosure, I told my kids when I made the appointment. Big mistake! Rebecca, my older daughter, took it in stride. Katie, my younger one, didn’t sleep for a week. “How much will it hurt?” she asked, over and over again. Rebecca laughed at her mercilessly.

Then came the big day. Katie went first, just so we could make sure she got it over with. And you know what? She didn’t even flinch. She said, at the end of it all, “That wasn’t that bad.” And Rebecca? We had to peel her off the ceiling.

Afterwards, I asked both of them which is better: to worry incessantly about something that may turn out badly, or to not worry at all, and then be surprised when life kicks you in the teeth. Pessimism believes in preparing for the worst, just like my youngest daughter did. She cried, she worried, she visualized, she whined. That way, she said, there was no way it could possibly be as bad as she imagined. Optimism, on the other hand, is embodied in my Rebecca who thinks she’s invincible. Nothing bad is really going to happen, so when it does, boy is she surprised.

I’m not one who believes that kids, or adults for that matter, with a “prepare for the worst” personality lack faith. I think we’re all born with certain personality traits, and this is simply one of them. But I do think faith in God can help us overcome pessimism and handle new things better.

First, we need to teach our kids repeatedly that God made them for a purpose, and that life is about discovering what those plans are and running with them. When kids understand that our lives are bigger than the here and now, they will better be able to understand that being left out of the cool clique at church does not mean the world is coming to an end. God still loves you and has something special for you. And what others think isn’t as important as what God does.

Overcoming pessimism also requires us to push our kids a bit to try new things, so they can discover the gifts God gave them. An aversion to risk is closely related to pessimism. Pessimistic people are far less likely to take big leaps because something – they’re never sure quite what – may be lurking just around the corner.

My Katie, as talented as she is, won’t take dance lessons, though she dances around the house. She might not like it, you see. And the piano competition we entered them in this year? She dreaded it, until it came time for her to play. As we were leaving, she said, “That was actually kind of fun. Can I do it again?” After listening to her whine about it for two weeks, I just about lost it.

But once they do try these things, and the sky doesn’t fall, they’re more likely to do it again. Pessimism is not a fixed personality trait. Parents can affect it by steering kids towards God, and helping them to understand that we can have true joy even if our circumstances don’t seem that great. When we’re part of His plan, we don’t need to fear.

And so we will continue to push our little one to take on new adventures because God has great plans for her. We had an amazing time in Africa, as even she agrees. The needles, in retrospect, weren’t that big a deal. I know what we saw and did there will affect her for years to come. I hope the lesson she learned about the shots will, too.

Check out my article on page 12 of the funky flipbook edition of Heart of the Matter Magazine.

Sheila Wray Gregoire is a popular homeschool speaker and the author of four books, including To Love, Honor and Vacuum: When you feel more like a maid than a wife and a mother. If she’s not homeschooling her two daughters and her nephew, she’s probably knitting. Even in line at the grocery store. You can read her blog at tolovehonorandvacuum.blogspot.com, and find her at www.sheilawraygregoire.com.

February 10, 2009 By Sheila 2 Comments

Every Valentine’s Day many of us are plagued with questions in the romance department. Will he send flowers? Will she say yes? My question is a bit different: why can’t he ever bang up his car?

I would feel significantly better about myself if just every now and then my husband would back into a tree, or rear end the car in front of him, or hit a fire hydrant. I’ve done all of those things (I’ve actually hit a fire hydrant twice), and I don’t see why I should be the only one.

The latest accident happened a few weeks ago when the roads were really icy. I was only going about 20 km/h when the truck ahead of me stopped. I had plenty of room, but I hit an icy patch and just couldn’t get the brakes to respond. My bumper hit his trailer hitch. Guess who won?

There weren’t any other scratches on either vehicle, and the other driver suggested I use duct tape to repair the baseball size hole I was now sporting. In retrospect, I can’t see anything I could have done differently. It was just one of those things. But here’s my dilemma. If it truly wasn’t my fault, then why aren’t all our accidents divided equally between the two of us? Why is it only ever me?

Of course, Keith did the proper husband thing and said, “all that matters is that no one was hurt.” And he treated me perfectly well all day long, which made me suspect that he was harbouring some horrid thought like “why can’t she just learn to drive?”. And for the next few days, no matter what he said to me, I snapped. He must be thinking I’m incompetent. And I must punish him for it.

The biggest barrier to romance, in my opinion, isn’t necessarily the failure to remember flowers on Valentine’s Day (though chocolate couldn’t hurt). It’s this tendency to build walls of suspicion between us because basically we’re all insecure. We know what we hate about ourselves, and one of our worst fears is that those we love will notice these flaws, too.

Men and women experience this differently. John Gray, author of Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, posits that men read guilt trips into everything. “Come to the table! Dinner’s ready!”, for instance, means “why couldn’t you get off that couch earlier and help me make it?”. Women, on the other hand, nurse this suspicion that deep inside our men may know we’re less than perfect.

So for all you women suspicious of your beloveds this Valentine’s Day, here’s a primer for you. When he says, “Wow, that’s quite a hole in the bumper,” take him at his word. He may not mean “It’s a wonder they ever gave you a license in the first place.” That may simply be the voice in your head working overtime. Likewise, if he says, “Wow, this place is a mess,” put down that frying pan. He may not be blaming you. He may just be commenting on the need to teach all residents of this house who are over the age of six to stop living like pigs.

Sometimes men need to read between the lines a little bit more to hear what she’s really saying. But sometimes we women need to stop reading between the lines and just read his lips. Kissing them is probably a good idea, too. As are chocolate truffles. So here’s hoping you have a lovely Valentine’s Day with a husband who loves you, who accepts your mistakes, and who remembers truffles. That would be romance indeed.

January 7, 2009 By Sheila 4 Comments

One of the most intriguing movies I have seen is Gwyneth Paltrow’s Sliding Doors. The movie follows a woman’s life in two possible scenarios, based on whether or not she missed a subway or caught it at just the right time. We often think that the pivotal moments in our lives are the big ones: when we propose, when we recite our vows, when we accept a job, have a child, or purchase a house. But I’m starting to think the really pivotal moments are far smaller — so small we may not recognize they are pivotal. They’re the ones where God really tests our mettle and finds out if we truly walk in His steps.

Like Sliding Doors, one little decision that we make can launch a chain reaction in our lives. Take a marriage, for instance. People don’t just divorce because one Sunday afternoon it occurs to them that this person they married is a stranger. It happens gradually, by the little decisions that we make together. And it’s easier to be tempted in the little things that wreck relationships, than in the big things. But those little things can lead to big changes, even when we don’t see it coming.

He decides to start working harder to get that promotion, and it becomes easier to just grab dinner on the run. She becomes wrapped up in the kids’ lives, and when he does make it home, she’s busy with them. He forges some great friendships at work, where he spends most of his time, and shares with them about his career goals. She falls in bed exhausted one night, and they don’t pray together. And soon the relationship has faded. And yet it wasn’t due to any one thing; it was a series of small decisions.

As depressing as that scenario may be, though, the opposite is also true. When she decides to kiss him when he comes in the door (or when she comes in the door), even if she’s grumpy from the day, she builds goodwill. When he wants to watch a game, but he puts that aside because she obviously needs to talk, he builds goodwill. When she makes a point of ensuring the kids make Father’s Day cards, or when he helps the kids make breakfast in bed for her, they share God’s love and acceptance. When he takes her hand to pray after a particularly grueling day, even though they’d both rather sleep, they bind their spirits together.

It works in other important relationships, too. When we don’t erupt in anger because our teen’s hair resembles a sheepdog, but take him out for ice cream even if he won’t talk, we build goodwill. When we don’t insult a child’s friends, but instead invite them over to hang out and start talking to them, we build goodwill. When we don’t react sarcastically to a teen’s monosyllabic conversation, but give her a hug regardless, we show her God’s love.

Doing this alone, though, seems almost impossible. Quite often, when two people grow apart, the blame does lie more heavily with one than the other. But sometimes all it takes for reconciliation is for one person to decide to get the relationship back on track. And if you don’t think you have the strength to do that, remember that you probably don’t. But God does. And He doesn’t ask you to do anything that He hasn’t already done Himself. And that’s why He can help you forgive, help you love, and help you move forward.

Two people do not become strangers overnight. Likewise, true oneness isn’t built overnight. Through the little choices that we make, we can gradually choose to be on the wrong road, and the gulf can get wider and wider, or we can choose to be on the road that builds relationship. One is a wide road; it’s the one many follow, and it’s the one that leads to broken relationships, broken dreams, and a broken spirit. And one is a narrow road; it’s rockier and more difficult, but it leads to reconciliation and joy. In the little things, which road will you choose?

Check out my article on page 12 of the new flipbook edition of Heart of the Matter Magazine.

December 31, 2008 By Sheila 7 Comments

As parents, our resolutions usually concern our children. This year, I will not yell at my children (Probable time until breakage: 2.3 days). I will not get behind on the laundry (4.2 days). I will exercise (1 day). I will organize creative crafts for my children everyday (2 days). I will not eat my children’s candy (1.5 days if said candy is chocolate, 17.8 days if not).

It’s a losing proposition. We’re trying to become someone we’re never going to be. I recently got a new haircut that requires a little more blow-drying than usual. My 6-year-old sat me down this week and said, “Mommy, I think you should get your hair short again. You just can’t handle this.” And she’s right. I’m chronically pressed for time, and if I try to do something too ambitious, I just feel guilty when I fail. Better to set the bar lower and be realistic.

This is not, however, how society works. I was asked to write an article for a large parenting magazine on indoor activities to do with your kids while it’s raining. I came up with several suggestions, including drink hot chocolate, bundle in some quilts, and play Monopoly, or pull out that video camera you always forget about and have the kids sing a song. Then the editor called. It seems I was horrendously mistaken. I was interpreting the assignment as follows: you’re stuck in the house with really cranky kids who are fighting. You’re desperate to find something to distract them before they drive you nuts, but you can’t send them outside. So let’s take this opportunity to have some fun doing things we keep putting off, and build our relationships in the process.

But modern parents aren’t supposed to have these problems. We’re all supposed to be super-creative, energetic cheerleaders. They changed my suggestions so they went something like this. Instead of playing Monopoly, let’s get out the cardboard, paints, glue gun, paper mache, plaster of Paris molds, mactac, heat shrinkable wrap, decorative scissors, antique buttons, pop can tabs, margarine lids, and MAKE YOUR OWN BOARD GAME! The kids come up with the theme, the rules, and the playing pieces, and then you all create it together.

And videotaping them singing, apparently, is also too tame. Instead, let’s sew them some costumes as they practice a play with all the neighbourhood children, based on a classic novel you have recently read them. Once you have organized them into Chorus, Lead Roles, and Supporting Cast, they can create dialogue and choose props, such as everything you have in your garage, to create the play, which you will then videotape and give to all the neighbours.

I found myself wondering whose kids, exactly, they were talking about. Whenever you try to get any child I know to do a craft for more than five minutes, they lose interest, and you spend the next two hours grumpily putting it together yourself so you can display it and say, “look what Johnny made!”. And getting kids to agree who will be “Chorus” and who will be “Lead Role” is hardly a recipe for a stress-free afternoon. I decided this magazine wasn’t in the business of helping parents; it was in the business of making parents feel inadequate.

Don’t be a parent like that. Kids don’t need props, they just need you to hug them and laugh with them. I do want to spend more time with my girls this year, but you won’t catch me with any plaster of Paris. I’ll be too busy drinking hot chocolate and playing Monopoly.

Sheila Wray Gregoire is the author of four books specializing in marriage and household organization! She blogs at FREE household organization charts, including chore sheets, organization checklists, and more!

August 17, 2008 By Sheila 3 Comments

When the textbooks were stacked away and the final school day ended on that long ago day in June, many children felt as if they had been released from their torment. A month and a half later, many parents feel as if the torment is now theirs. We are in the midst of summer vacation, and that means seemingly endless weeks of entertaining our kids. Yet why do we have summer vacation? It’s because when public schooling started, children—yes, children—were needed to work on the farm.

The idea of kids working has fallen into disrepute, largely because for so long children, the most vulnerable in our society, were horrendously exploited. Yet being free from labour is not exactly the natural state of childhood, either. Proverbs 10:5 tells us: “a child who gathers in summer is prudent, but a child who sleeps in harvest brings shame” (NRSV). Kids are supposed to help with the family’s work! It teaches them some important lessons.

I love knitting. And not just regular sweaters, but the kind that requires tiny needles, 35 colours and four years to complete. When I do finally finish, I feel such a profound sense of accomplishment.

That feeling is something that is unique to being productive. We can feel something similar, though not nearly so thrilling, when we finally clean out the garage, or weed a large vegetable bed, or fix a leaky toilet (as long as it’s not my husband doing it). Being productive gives you a sense that your labour matters, and that you can spend it to help make life more liveable not just for you, but also for your family.

To a large extent we have deprived our children of these experiences. Our fridge doors may be plastered with art “creations”, but often this is as far as their productivity goes. The idea of actually helping with the dishes, for instance, is laughed off as the Nintendo is turned on. Most families in the United States today do not require children to do chores. Even when they do, it’s usually only to clean up after themselves by making their own beds, cleaning up their toys, or putting their own dishes in the dishwasher. Helping the family is no longer required.

But we’re not only excusing them from chores; we’re also turning our lives upside down to make theirs as easy and pleasant as possible. We rearrange our schedules to take kids to soccer, baseball, or the beach. We chauffeur them, clean them, feed them, and show them they are the centre of our universe. During the school year, in return, we may expect them to do homework. But summer is like two months of get out of jail free cards.

In the process, we’re inadvertently contributing to children’s propensity to being self-absorbed. If we give them a chance to think the whole world revolves around them, things that really don’t matter in the long run take on way too much importance. Work is the antidote to this sense of self-importance and entitlement. Work was not God’s punishment for the fall; God created work before it. It’s an essential part of our humanity.

In my book, To Love, Honor and Vacuum, I suggest strategies to “encourage” kids to do chores, including tying chores to allowances. But these must be tasks that help the whole family; only then do they get a share in the family’s money. Kids should never be paid for cleaning up after themselves! Then, you need to show kids the benefit of money. If you buy them a chocolate bar everytime you’re out, or pick up that pair of designer jeans they’ve been begging for, you’re not giving them any incentive to earn their own money.

Many of us are now feeling the mid-summer burnout. But unless you want to spend the rest of the summer picking up popsicle wrappers and putting away beach toys, maybe it’s time to introduce your kids to a chore sheet and a toilet brush. They may not like it, but you’ll be doing them a favour. They will learn that life is more than having fun; life is also helping and serving others. And that’s a good thing.

Sheila is the author of four books, including To Love, Honor and Vacuum: When you feel more like a maid than a wife and a mother. You can read her blog at To Love, Honor, and Vacuum, and find her at http://www.sheilawraygregoire.com/.

Please join us in a devotional book study of Sheila’s book, To Love, Honor and Vacuum, beginning Saturday, August 23rd. You may purchase a book from your local bookstore, from Amazon.com or directly through Sheila.

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