Growing Pains

Why is it that when my children are growing up, I'm the one having growing pains? It hardly seems fair.

Or maybe they're not growing pains. Maybe they're just pains.

Case #1: I mentioned to my husband last night that yet another one of our boys need to begin the wonderful rite of passage known as shaving. Although I probably really shouldn't worry about it. As soon as he's told to do so, he'll want to do anything other than shaving. Just like his older brothers.

Case #2: Three of the four that I'm homeschooling have finished their lessons for the year. And yet, they still must travel to work with me several times a week because, even though they're old enough to be left on their own, they don't necessarily do well when left unsupervised too many days in a row. So now I'm trying to find ways to keep them occupied five hours a day. One of them acts as though I'm killing him because I require that he read a chapter of a book each day. It's a fiction book that's geared to his age and lots of fun. You'd think I was making him read Scottish Chiefs.

I've got them doing a typing course, getting a head start on next year. They all love being on the computer, which is a privilege not often extended. But I've only got one laptop, and taking turns seems to tax their sharing abilities. Plus I repeatedly find them playing games on the computer instead of doing the typing.

I should explain, by the way, that my very gracious boss is a proponent of homeschooling, and has been wonderful in allowing me to bring the boys with me on the job. That way I supervise their schooling while completing my work at the same time.

Sort of. Some days it works better in theory than in practice.

Case #3: They all also have that end-of-the-schoolyear energy that is so detrimental to everyone's health and well-being. The boys sit in a conference room with a whole wall of windows to do their schoolwork. I can see them through the window from my office. Last week Son #2 brought a bag of candy with him to school. And no, I do not allow that. Son #3 began crawling under the conference room table to get to the candy. Son #4 started crawling over the top of the table to get to the candy. All of them began rolling around the table in their executive desk chairs, playing a form of candy keep-away. (Apparently I went longer than one minute checking on them through my window. My mistake.) I became aware of the problem when they slammed into a bookcase and sent a lamp crashing to the floor.

Who knew school was a contact sport? Lest you be confused, let me assure you that none of my sons are two years old. They are ages 12, 14, 16 and 18. They know better.

Case #4: Son #2--I'm not sure why I'm not using their names in this post, but live with it--is getting ready to graduate from high school. Among other things, I'm supposed to provide 20 pictures of him at various ages for a display that is being put together for the seniors. (A private school nearby is graciously allowing our homeschooled son to participate in their ceremony.) My problem is, I don't have that many pictures of just him. And the ones that I do have are awful, fuzzy and completely out of focus. I'm suffering major guilt that I have not done a better job of recording my children's lives through photography.

I think I'm signing up for a photography class this summer.

Case #5: Son #1 and Son #2 got into an argument recently. They brought the problem to me, mostly because each of them thought I would set the other one straight. Except that they were both right and they were both wrong. While I was trying to sort out the mess, they continued arguing, and I couldn't get a word in edgewise. I finally stepped between them--except that my head only comes to their chins. Their argument didn't even slow down as they continued talking over my head.

And that's when I struggled with the desire to share my growing pains. Or at least cause someone else some pain for a while. It's a good thing I'm going out of town for a few days because I definitely need the break.

I just hope at least some of my furniture is still intact when I get back.

A Wedding Education

I firmly believe, and I have often told my children, that my job from the time they are born is to train and educate them until they become mature, independent adults that are capable of functioning on their own and contributing to the world in which they find themselves a part. As they get older, every once in a while a situation arises with opportunities for learning and experiencing new things. I always try to take advantage of those situations because it's my job to make sure my children are as well-equipped as I can make them for life.

Since Matt's the oldest, we always seem to be breaking new ground with him, experience-wise. He was the first to graduate from high school, the first to go off to college, and now--the first to get married.

When wedding talk first started, I suddenly realized that Matt had little experience with weddings. Up to this point he'd been in two. Once as a ringbearer at the age of four, and the second as a groomsman his senior year in high school. Neither time was he involved in planning the wedding. He simply wore what he was told to wear, showed up when he was supposed to and did what he was told. And although sometimes that's all the groom is required to do, I thought he ought to know a few wedding planning basics before his first trip up to Kylee's and their first wedding-planning session.

The thing is, Matt--like his dad--is a big picture guy. Details are not his thing. Weddings are, of course, made up of hundreds of details that have to be decided and coordinated. Kylee is both extremely organized and creative, but I knew she would want at least some input and help from Matt in putting their special day together. So in preparing him for the months of planning to come, I started by asking a few general questions, just to find out if they'd already discussed any details. Matt's answers to most things were, "I don't know" or "whatever Kylee wants".

On the surface that might sound like a very generous guy who wanted whatever made his bride happy. While that is true of Matt, I also saw below the surface. It also meant "that's something I don't want to have to deal with." There were a few things he would have to deal with, I insisted. The tuxes, for instance usually fell in the groom's realm of decision-making.

"Oh, we're having tuxes," he told me, obviously relieved to have one decision made.

"But there's a lot of decisions to make about the tuxes," I pressed.

"Like what?"

"Tails, no tails. Color, cut, cumberbund, vest, tie, bowtie ..." I trailed off as his eyes glazed over. "It won't be that hard," I encouraged. "Has Kylee picked her colors yet?"

"Uh, yeah." He brightened at being able to answer a question. "Purple and green."

What she actually has picked is a very dark purple, almost an eggplant, and a much lighter shade of green. The colors are beautiful together. However, the way Matt said them made me think of a certain favorite children's dinosaur.

"Purple and green? You're having a Barney wedding?" I couldn't resist messing with him a little.

"No!" He explained the colors and I nodded thoughtfully. "So which color will the tuxes be--purple or green?"

"Neither!" He answered. A look of hesitation crossed his face, and then more forcefully, "Neither!"

I asked if he'd picked bridal attendants yet, and he stared at me blankly. "I don't know what those are."

"Groomsmen?"

"Oh. My brothers."

That was nice. Matt has four brothers. "How many bridesmaids is Kylee going to have?" He didn't know. "You do realize you're supposed to have the same number of bridesmaids and groomsmen, right?"

The conversation continued as Matt told me they were getting married at Kylee's church, something I'd expected, and that her pastor would be performing the ceremony.

Everything else stopped as I almost completely lost it. Matt's father is a pastor. Why would he not have his own father perform the ceremony? How could he do this to his dad? Didn't he realize his dad would be crushed? Surely Kylee's pastor would understand Matt wanting to have his own dad do the ceremony. Surely Kylee would understand that. All he had to do was speak up. His dad would never say anything, but it would just destroy him if his own son didn't ask him to do his ceremony! "How could you do this to your dad?" I demanded.

Matt looked uncertain. "I was going to ask him to be my best man," he answered. "But if you don't think  that's right--"

I assured him that his dad would be fine with that.

Sometimes I think we're raising that boy right after all.