You're lookin' good just like a snake in the grass

Every parent does it. You try to give your kids what you didn't have. And then you try to figure out how to give your kids what you did have. And your parents tried to give you what they didn't have while trying to remember to give you what they had. Somewhere in there, I'm sure it all works out, but it can feel rather self-defeating at times.

I was not in many organized sports or enrichment classes as a child because those required money. We had very little "extra" money. I didn't mind, too much, because my siblings and I made our own fun. The yard, neighborhood, and nearby fields were our classroom, tumbling mat, and art studio.

My family is in a situation that allows our kids to have some involvement in organized sports and enrichment classes. I just don't always know how to make this a good thing. 

The two older kids have been in a weekly gymnastics class for about three months. I watch my daughter do a cartwheel that lands her on her feet now instead of her knees. And my son, who lacked the coordination to perform "Eensy Teensy Spider" in preschool, now stretches with his class of all girls and almost does what they do.

When he lines up with the other five-year-olds, the coach tells them to move from one side of the mat to the other while pretending to be some animal. Oh, how delightful! I see all these girls swinging their arms clasped together like an elephant trunk. On the return trip, a bear crawl. I scan the line for my son. Oh. If I'd been watching only him, I'd have thought the  animal to mimic was roadkill.  

A week ago his coach asked me if he usually, whines, flops on the ground, and says he can't do anything. Why, yes, all the time, actually, when we're at home. But instead I just told her, "He's had a rough week."

I want my kids to appreciate these extra perks in their childhood, not flop around and whine like I'm asking them to eat a bite of salad or to get into a bathtub filled with wet water.

So I try to have my kids earn their privileges so they'll appreciate them. My oldest earned three dollars in about three weeks doing various odd jobs around the house. I had paid for a toy she wanted, and if she wanted it, she had to buy it from me. The jobs she did averaged about 10 cents each, so she had to persist at least a tiny bit if she wanted to do about 30 jobs. 

Meet Fiona the Fennec Fox and Vanilla the Chinchilla. And this jazzy shirt, which is now her favorite because she did the cutting and tying herself while I lay on the couch and fought a cold with her siblings. I hope she never finishes the skirt she is making out of the lace table cloth and faux fur fabric we found at the thrift store last week. 

Slow breathing. Repeat to myself: I encourage and support creativity. 

I remember earning five dollars with my twin sister at this same age. We cared for a friend's white rabbit long enough to get a five dollar bill. We couldn't cut it in half, and we didn't want to "break" it, so we just kept that five dollar bill for a long time and admired it occasionally. Five whole dollars. Abe Lincoln. All good stuff.

If she doesn't have something specific to buy, though, money has almost no effect on my daughter's ambition. She has no memory of having to "go without," at least not to the extent that I did as a child. I even pay her a nickel each time she practices the piano. And I'm already paying for her lessons. 

Another deep breath: it isn't about the money. She is deepening her soul. And to the nice old man at church who gave me a book on how to keep my children from manipulating me, it isn't manipulation if I came up with the idea, right? That's just bribery, which is sacred ground in parenting, so back off, parenting experts.

I worry that the end result of offering my kids organized athletics and enrichment could be diminished imagination, less spirit of adventure, and more fear of hard work as a means of accomplishing their dreams. My kids could miss out on some of the greatest blessings I did get in my childhood. 

But rather than worry and fear, I try to just make more room for them to capture what I did have. More unscheduled time, more use of materials in the yard (I can't believe the HOA hasn't fined me yet), more opportunities to clean up after themselves because it's part of having fun, and more confidence that comes from inventing joyful experiences.

My children have heard many stories of all the cooking conquests I had as a child--before I could even read, I could make dinner. So I decided to give them a little more freedom in the kitchen and when they begged to make cookies, I said, "As long as I can work on my own project in the meantime, go for it." 

(For a really fascinating discussion, try explaining to a 5-year-old what "Mean Time" is.)

With some instructions and a couple brief interventions (so they didn't add the flour by the tablespoon), they made some delicious chocolate/butterscotch chip cookies. 

Dad later declared them "delicious!" which is high praise from a man who skips most baked varieties of dessert.

But when the timer rang, the kids were long gone. Had they lost interest in the cookies? Were their attention spans really so short?

Nope, they had found a classroom in the backyard. And today's subject was snakes. 

Welcome to being a grown-up. I wanted to see this snake, but I needed to practice piano, whether someone gave me a nickel or not.

I had ten solid minutes to practice piano. The toddler (who loves to hit the power button on my electric piano) was still napping, my piano lesson was rapidly approaching, and I had kids outside for ten minutes before the cookies emerged. Add it all together and you get a golden moment to attempt making up for two weeks of hardly touching a piano due to illness, solo parenting, and a whirlwind road trip.

So when my daughter came rushing in to report that the grass had moved without any wind and she was sure it was a snake, I tried to pretend not to care. It's probably just that garter snake I saw last month. You've seen one garter snake, you've seen them all... But then my curiosity (and hopefully a responsible feeling to protect in case the snake had a rattle) took over, and I went looking for this snake.

Sure enough, there was a snake in the grass, and I spotted it because our grass moved without any wind. It slithered into our garden box and, upon finding a low-hanging branch from the apple tree, slithered right into its limbs. Snakes really do climb trees!

For an entertaining look at what happens when the adulting grown-up tries to revisit her childhood days as a  naturalist, you may watch this video. Start at the two minute mark to save time if you wish.

I'd like to say that I practiced piano more this week, but I must be learning bad habits from my kids, because I spent a lot of time flopping on the floor this week and telling everyone I was doing my stretches. 

I can imitate roadkill with the best of them.