Don't Use That Line On Me!

Since nothing's happening except work (still!) in my life, I'm reposting another post again. After all, it's summer. You should be expecting reruns! This post originally appeared on July 24, 2009.

Sometimes when I'm helping my children with their schoolwork, I find that they need something a little more than the knowledge that x=5. (That is the only algebraic formula I know. It works for me.) Sometimes when my children are struggling for the answer, the problem is not understanding. The problem is exercising the brain enough to figure out the answer. After all, education is not just a matter of learning facts, but of reasoning through and thinking through things in order to come to the right conclusions.

So sometimes when my children come to me with a problem, I point out the page where the answer is and tell them "it's in here somewhere. Find it." Many times I get a despairing look. The look is all I get because they know better than to whine. That's never gotten them anything in our house. The look doesn't get them much either, but I will tell them, "You're smart. You can figure this out." I try to tell my kids they're smart often. They blossom under the positive reinforcement. Plus, if I say it often enough, maybe it will really happen. : )

Nine times in ten the affirmation-receiving child will figure out the answer. They're in a kind of catch-22. After all, if they come back a second time looking for the answer, it's like they're admitting they're not smart. It ends up being a challenge to them to prove that I was right about their intelligence. They succeed in finding the answer, they prove they were smart, they feel really good about themselves. It's a process that works.

Just recently I was on the receiving end of the process. It's not quite so pleasant from this side. I think I've mentioned before that I work in an auditing office. Most people that know me find it amusing that my job involves working with numbers since math was never my strong suit. (I really do believe x=5.) When I started the job, almost a year ago, I enjoyed the sensation of being the "new kid". I worked at learning the job, but there are a lot of details and variables in the work. If I didn't know something, no one faulted me for it because I was new. Plus, being low woman on the totem pole, most of the work I got was grunt work. In all honesty, I didn't mind a bit. I enjoyed coming in and accomplishing something and then going home and forgetting I even had a job. I did whatever was asked of me, and I did it to the best of my ability, but still I wasn't actually responsible for anything except the assignments I was given. I wasn't working the job in order to fulfill anything other than our pocketbook.

Well, all that changed a few months ago. One of my bosses declared that I wasn't being used "to my full potential". So I was given new duties. Duties with responsibility attached to them. Bear in mind that this is governmental auditing. There's not supposed to be any mistakes. One of my new duties involved proofing all our reports and making sure there were no mistakes before they were sent out. Part of that job wasn't so hard. Misspelled words and incorrect grammar seem to jump out at me from the page. On the other hand, I was also put in charge of making sure the content was correct based on the findings of the auditor. Huh? There were so many details and variables I was sure I would never get it. It didn't get any better when they explained to me that these 3-4 pages of content were the heart of the report. All else was necessary, but these 3-4 pages were "what we get paid for doing". Okay. So no pressure here at all.
I balked and dragged my feet a little bit. I expressed doubt as to my ability. I even whined just a bit. (Don't tell my kids!) My boss's answer? "You're smart. You'll figure it out."

Well slap me upside the head. As much as I didn't want this duty, now I had to take it. I couldn't admit I wasn't smart. This is a very frustrating position to be in.

I still use the phrase with my children. I still believe it motivates them. But it's aggravating to have the same techniques used on me. I think now I'm going to have to be smart enough to think up new ways to motivate.

Maybe I'll go with the "Nobody is that dumb" negative reinforcement. Set the bar a little lower.

I Aren't Smart

Sometimes when I'm helping my children with their schoolwork, I find that they need something a little more than the knowledge that x=5. (That is the only algebraic formula I know. It works for me.) Sometimes when my children are struggling for the answer, the problem is not understanding. The problem is exercising the brain enough to figure out the answer. After all, education is not just a matter of learning facts, but of reasoning through and thinking through things in order to come to the right conclusions.
So sometimes when my children come to me with a problem, I point out the page where the answer is and tell them "it's in here somewhere. Find it." Many times I get a despairing look. The look is all I get because they know better than to whine. That's never gotten them anything in our house. The look doesn't get them much either, but I will tell them, "You're smart. You can figure this out." I try to tell my kids they're smart often. They blossom under the positive reinforcement. Plus, if I say it often enough, maybe it will really happen. : )
Nine times in ten the affirmation-receiving child will figure out the answer. They're in a kind of catch-22. After all, if they come back a second time looking for the answer, it's like they're admitting they're not smart. It ends up being a challenge to them to prove that I was right about their intelligence. They succeed in finding the answer, they prove they were smart, they feel really good about themselves. It's a process that works.
Just recently I was on the receiving end of the process. It's not quite so pleasant from this side. I think I've mentioned before that I work in an auditing office. Most people that know me find it amusing that my job involves working with numbers since math was never my strong suit. (I really do believe x=5.) When I started the job, almost a year ago, I enjoyed the sensation of being the "new kid". I worked at learning the job, but there are a lot of details and variables in the work. If I didn't know something, no one faulted me for it because I was new. Plus, being low woman on the totem pole, most of the work I got was grunt work. In all honesty, I didn't mind a bit. I enjoyed coming in and accomplishing something and then going home and forgetting I even had a job. I did whatever was asked of me, and I did it to the best of my ability, but still I wasn't actually responsible for anything except the assignments I was given. I wasn't working the job in order to fulfill anything other than our pocketbook.
Well, all that changed a few months ago. One of my bosses declared that I wasn't being used "to my full potential". So I was given new duties. Duties with responsibility attached to them. Bear in mind that this is governmental auditing. There's not supposed to be any mistakes. One of my new duties involved proofing all our reports and making sure there were no mistakes before they were sent out. Part of that job wasn't so hard. Misspelled words and incorrect grammar seem to jump out at me from the page. On the other hand, I was also put in charge of making sure the content was correct based on the findings of the auditor. Huh? There were so many details and variables I was sure I would never get it. It didn't get any better when they explained to me that these 3-4 pages of content were the heart of the report. All else was necessary, but these 3-4 pages were "what we get paid for doing". Okay. So no pressure here at all.
I balked and dragged my feet a little bit. I expressed doubt as to my ability. I even whined just a bit. (Don't tell my kids!) My boss's answer? "You're smart. You'll figure it out."
Well slap me upside the head. As much as I didn't want this duty, now I had to take it. I couldn't admit I wasn't smart. This is a very frustrating position to be in.
I still use the phrase with my children. I still believe it motivates them. But it's aggravating to have the same techniques used on me. I think now I'm going to have to be smart enough to think up new ways to motivate. Maybe I'll go with the "Nobody is that dumb" negative reinforcement. Set the bar a little lower.

Bequeathing

Yesterday I looked death in the face. I stood nose to nose with my own mortality. I contemplated the end of my life under solemn and grave circumstances.

Yesterday I signed my Last Will and Testament.

It's the responsible thing to do. And it's not actually the first time we've done this. But it has been a while since Terry and I last did our wills and some things have changed since then. Like, for instance, the number of our children. So it was time to make new wills. We actually started discussing this last month after a visit with a financial planner. We learned several important things during that visit. Such as the fact that we will never have enough money to retire and that we are worth very little presently. Neither of those facts were very surprising.

The financial planner also said he would strongly suggest we update our wills. He gave us forms to fill our with regard to our preferences and wishes and told us to send them back when they were done. Since we don't have that much stuff to dispose of you wouldn't think these things would take much decisions. But there were a few details to consider. Like the disposition of our underage children. I mean, we love them, but not everyone we know would want to take in four lively boys.

We also had the "durable" problem. You know, the durable power of attorney, the durable power of attorney for assets, the durable power of attorney for health care. The living will. It's so complicated. Who's going to take care of our stuff and who's going to take care of our kids and who's going to take care of us. Matthew's twenty, but that's still a lot to put on him. So we ended up putting the kids' guardians in charge of everything for the good of the kids. Matt gets the job if something happens to the guardians.

Matt had a few questions when we told him. Terry explained the durable power of attorney over healthcare and the living will as succinctly as possible. His basic explanation? "The longer you leave us plugged in, the more money it will cost." I was touched by the sentiment.

Our belongings were another problem. Not that we have tons of stuff, but some of it is special to the kids. The way things are set up, the guardians have control of everything for the purpose of taking care of the kids. Matt wasn't sure he liked that. After all, there are some things he didn't want to ever lose. Like his father's firearm collection. And the mounted deer heads on our wall. Important stuff. We finally convinced him that this was where trust came in. If we could trust the guardians with our kids, we could trust them to do what's best for all of them. We could trust them to respect our wishes and the feelings of our children when it came to using or selling our worldly goods. I did find it curious that Matthew wanted his dad's things, but didn't seem to need any reminder that I had ever inhabited the earth.

And so we spent almost an hour yesterday afternoon going through all the paperwork and signing our names in numerous places. The last time we signed that many papers we walked away with a house. This time we were just signing so people know what to do with the house once we're gone. It was a little depressing. But you know what? I've known for a long time that we weren't going to leave much materially. What's far more important to me is that we leave our children with a strong sense of character. That we equip them with the knowledge and talents they will need to serve the Lord with all their heart and soul and mind. If they live their lives for Him, that will be the best legacy we could ever leave behind us.

Even so, would it kill them to ask for one small item of mine to keep as a remembrance? It doesn't have to be a "girly" item. After all, I have firearms too.

A Camping We Will Go

Here are my campers at 3:30 this morning. I took several pictures, but they said I should post this one because they liked it the best. And by now they are almost three hours down the road.
It was fairly easy to get them packed. I told them what kind of things they needed, and then they laid all the items out on their beds. I went through and approved (or disapproved) of their choices, made a list of the things they needed and then took them shopping. When we got home I told them to pack everything that was still on their bed. Job done. I did check on a few key items such as, "Did you pack your toothbrush? Do you have your soap and a towel? Enough underwear?" You know, life's basic necessities.
As easy as it was to get the packing done, it was incredibly hard to get them to go to sleep last night. They had to be reminded several times to take showers, and then even after they were in bed they wouldn't stop talking. I went in for the final good night kiss and prayer together and they still wouldn't stop talking. But they have a long drive today so they can probably sleep most of the way. The drivers would probably be thrilled if all the teens slept through the trip. I don't envy them!
So, easy to pack, hard to get them to sleep and even harder still to let them go. I did a little analysis of myself and my feelings last night (in between tears) and finally realized why this was so hard. (After all, Paul is our fourth child to go to camp. By now I ought to be rejoicing that one more kid can go. And be counting the days until another one is gone for a week!) But in the past year or so, we've learned the hard way what kind of an influence others can have on our children. And since that happened, we've watched them closely. Oh they still mingle and get social interaction, but we're much more aware of who they're with and what is going on. Now here they're going to a big camp with lots of people in it. Some good and some bad, I'm sure. And I won't be there to help steer them in the right direction. I won't be there to protect them from wrong influences. This really bothered me until I realized something else: I won't be there, but God will. And He loves our children even more than we do. In fact, in the past few months He's given me verses over and over again about protecting our children and caring for them. I may worry about them at camp, but I don't worry at all about leaving them in God's hands.
Last night at choir practice we went over a song called "Trust His Word". We only sang it once, but I woke up with it running through my head. And then I realized that I really could trust His Word. He'll take care of my kids.

I'm content with that.

Tomorrow's Post: "She lied to me!"

That's My Baby!

I've mentioned before that we have six kids. Matt and Steph are twenty months apart, Luke came three years later, Paul came three years after that, then Paul and Joel are eighteen months (and one day) apart and Joel and Nicky are twenty months apart. For the longest time we've kind of mentally grouped them into the "older" kids and the "younger" kids. Luke's been one of the older kids ever since he joined the youth group. That was three years ago. It was hard to see our little boy start hanging out with the teenagers, even though he was a teen himself.
But he's grown and we've let him go. He's fifteen now. At our last youth service, Luke was the song leader for the entire congregation. The teens leave for camp on Monday, and this will be his third year. I worried some about how he would do, but he absolutely loved it. Especially last year when he walked around talking with a British accent the entire week.
So I've had three years to get used to Luke being a teenager. (I still can't get used to the fact that the two oldest are out of high school!) But guess who's going into the youth group now?
It's one of the "younger" kids. Paul turned twelve, and he will be going into the seventh grade in the fall. He had his first youth outing this past week. And he's leaving for camp on Monday.

I don't think I can take this.

Paul is quieter and more shy than Luke. And I worry that he's not quite ready for camp. Not that I have a choice. He's very excited about it and looking forward to it. And there's nothing I can do to stop him.
Oh, I know I'm supposed to embrace this. After all, we raise them to grow up and become adults. I don't want them to stay kids the rest of their lives.

But couldn't they stay kids for just a little while longer? For those of you that know us personally, I"m sure you wavering back and forth between amusement and sympathy. Well let me knock your socks off. Guess who's going in the youth group next year?

Joel.

Now you see what I mean. I'm suffering. Can anyone help?