I was planning on posting Hawaii part 2 today, but following some of the responses I got from part one, I thought it was important to take a moment to talk about something I have been giving a lot of thought to recently.

In my last post I talked about “wherever you go, there you are.” I wanted to clarify that a little bit, along with making some difficult confessions.

I love my kids. I love my kids beyond what I can put into words. I truly believe that our children are a direct result of our parenting. Do they have their own brains and free will? Of course. But unless there is a mental illness that is affecting a child’s behavior, how they behave is on us.

Is my kid throwing a fit? Chances are: they are overtired. Or hungry. Or they are irritable because I’m stressed and that tension is creating tension within them.

Is it fair of me to yell at my kids for dragging their feet and making us late if I know that I could have woken them up a few minutes earlier, or given them more warning before we needed to leave? One of my most shameful recent parenting moments came when I was mad at Zoe because she wasn’t getting ready for soccer fast enough and she wasn’t listening to me. I was late picking her up from her friend’s house. Did she dawdle? Sure. But if I hadn’t been late, I wouldn’t have had to put so much pressure on her.

It’s funny how magnified a family dynamic is when everyone is forced into a confined space for an extended period of time. I don’t believe our trip caused problems, I believe it revealed issues that were already there.

At home, everyone goes off into their own space. If they can’t get along, they separate. Nathan goes into the movie room to play video games. Zoe goes to find a friend in the neighborhood to play with. Parker zones out on the kitchen computer. Jeff works a lot and Sydney spends an awful lot of time at church. Me? I go in my room and “do laundry” which can also mean catching up on my shows that I have on DVR, reading a book, playing candy crush on my phone.

The point is, we’ve found a way to cope with our issues, but haven’t actually addressed them.

What was disappointing and frustrating about our trip was that in all that togetherness, these issues were staring me straight in the face. And it made me very sad.

Here we were, on an expensive vacation in Hawaii, the kids were skipping school, my husband and I only had a minimal amount of work to do during the week, there were birthday gifts, nonstop activities, and yet still- tantrums, fussing, complaining, bickering. And it broke my heart.

I won’t go into specific details about who was complaining or fighting about what. We all had our moments. My point is that it was a huge wakeup call for me.

I must confess- I have overindulged my kids. I haven’t given them enough opportunities to see the needs of others. It’s not that I don’t know that giving your kid pretty much anything they ever want isn’t a great parenting strategy. I think in the moment, you tell yourself, “It will just get them off my back right now” or “this is it, no more.” And then it never is, because they have a clever way of asking when your resistance is down. Or they use techniques they picked up from watching YouTube videos of cold war-era KGB interrogations and mind control. Either way, it’s always “just one more…” whatever.

Don’t get me wrong- my kids are good kids, they have just developed some pretty bad habits, and I haven’t done enough to curtail them.

Sydney and I were talking and she said, “I’ve noticed that you and dad get over things really quickly. Which is good, because that means you don’t hold grudges. But it also means you never deal with those things.”

She’s right. We aren’t big grudge holders. We usually understand that something said out of hunger or fatigue or stress isn’t worth creating long term conflict. And when you apply that to parenting, I can see how, although I think it’s a positive thing that we aren’t constantly bringing up our kids’ past mistakes, it also can allow bad behaviors to become bad habits over time.

When  Zoe is snippy with me because she’s tired, I can forgive her for her snippiness, but also teach her that it doesn’t excuse disrespect and back talk. If Parker is misbehaving because one of his siblings is causing him frustration, I can be understanding about why he is frustrated, yet still train him on better ways to handle his emotions.

I have 3 Libras in my house. I’m not into astrology for Biblical reasons, but I can tell you there’s something to people who are born at certain times of the year and personality traits. I can’t explain it, but I know it’s true. I’m a late May birthday and nearly every significant relationship and/or friendship in my life are people born in May and June, late September and October.

People born in October (Libras) are born under the constellation of the scales. Supposedly they are all about justice and fairness. Which is why I find myself constantly mitigating disputes, being asked to decide who is right and who is wrong, Or, often, who has been wronged, and whether the appropriate punishment is what the “victim” is requiring me to dole out. My husband has actually referred to me as Judge Judy on several occasions, although I believe he’s using it more as a pejorative term . (I tend to be a pretty black and white thinker.)

Because there are 4 children in my house (although I don’t really count Sydney anymore since she’s 19) I spend a lot more time peacemaking for a moment than teaching for a lifetime. I parent in survival mode. As a result, real training gets missed.

The only cure for selfishness, constant dissatisfaction and discontentment, is gratitude. Thankfulness. Thankfulness and gratitude come from perspective. I haven’t given my children enough opportunity to gain perspective by seeing outside of themselves, their comfortable, affluent community, and understand that there are real needs out there- and they have nothing to do with whether you have a WiiU or not.

Yesterday morning, in my near breakdown state, I told Zoe and Parker, “Do you realize that there are people who have real things to complain about? They are hungry, they are homeless, they are ill. And guess what? They complain a whole lot less than you guys do.”

After speaking with my husband yesterday morning, we agreed- this is all on us. And it’s up to us to fix it. Not from the bottom up, but from the top down. We must lead by example. We must change the focus of our priorities, treat each other with respect (we tend to operate in sarcasm) and create opportunities for our kids to look outside themselves.

I asked Zoe and Parker to come up with 5 things they are grateful for and one way we can help others. Zoe had some great ones, Parker could use a little guidance. He told me he’s thankful that he’s so awesome.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, folks.

Hawaii part 2 is coming, I promise. And there’s some great stuff. It is a lot easier to write about the trip now that I know we are creating a plan to improve those things that didn’t go so well. Until then, I will leave you with this thought…

 “He wants you too, Malachi!”

No, not THAT children of the corn. (To this day probably the scariest movie I ever saw as a kid.)

THIS children of the corn:

(Almost as scary)

Friday night I took Zoe, Parker and Zoe’s friend Ashlyn to one of our local farms. They were having a charity night for a young girl who goes to my mom’s school who is battling cancer. This particular farm has a pumpkin patch and a corn maze, along with a general store filled with yummy treats- fresh honey, amazing sweet corn puffs, gourmet cheeses, soup mixes and local jams.

We actually have several farms in our area. Some have gotten into the wedding business, some have elaborate pumpkin patches with story time, petting zoos, special play areas. This farm has Bob’s corn maze, and it’s fantastic.

Looking like a lamb being led to slaughter

When my mom asked us to go to the corn maze, I had envisioned walking a path through a few rows of corn, easy peasy. 15, 20 minutes tops. Ha!

We went into the general store to purchase our tickets. Of course my mother knew every person in there. My friend Tabitha was working the register, since the people who own the farm are her in-laws. Tabitha suggested taking a picture of the maze in case we had a difficult time finding our way out. I scoffed a bit at her suggestion, but took the picture anyway.

 That doesn’t look so complicated, does it?

Zoe insisted we NOT look at the picture, as that was “cheating.” We headed into the maze at about 630. The man standing at the entrance said that if we made it to the halfway point (the grey square in the upper left corner) and we didn’t think we could finish before it got dark, we could walk around the outside of the maze.

Once again, I scoffed.

Walking towards the maze (Notice Zoe’s mouth-open)

He told us to be careful of the stalks, as they are very sharp, and you can cut your hand on the corn leaves. I had no idea this was a dangerous mission. He also mentioned that the first half of the maze was significantly less challenging than the second half.

Parker stood at the entrance, impatient to start.

Let’s

Go!

I soon realized that my cute strappy sandals were completely inappropriate for navigating a muddy path. (We had a huge thunder and lightning storm the night before.)

It required a lot of checking my balance, which was tweaking my already tweaked lower back. Parker kept trying to run ahead, but I insisted he stay within sight. After a few minutes of weaving through the path, we came upon a group of kids, ranging in age from 7-12. As usual, my mother knew them. They had no adult with them and said they had lost the rest of their group. They told us they had been trying to find their way back to the beginning for over a half hour, and asked if they could stay with us.

The older one, also named Katie, was clearly the boss of the group. (I think there must be something to that name.) She was trying to tell us where to go, but Parker, the Napoleonic personality that he is, was having none of it. He marched himself to the front of the pack, no hesitation.

Zoe and Ashlyn stayed with the herd, they didn’t try to race ahead.  Zoe was by far the loudest talker in our group. Everything she said was at full voice. When she wasn’t giving orders, she was chatting.

She said, “I keep getting bugs in my mouth!”

I responded, “Perhaps if you kept it closed, that wouldn’t happen.

 Always talking (See? Mouth open)

Parker tried to talk everyone into going down one path, but he was outvoted. Following a standoff, he relented and came with us. After finding several dead ends, we ended back where he had wanted us to go.

I said, “Parker, you may have been right.”

Parker responded, “I may be right, you may be crazy!”

I’ve been listening to the Billy Joel station on Pandora, can you tell?

We turned and turned and then came to another crossroads. Parker insisted on going one way, while the group wanted to go another. I followed Parker to make sure I didn’t lose him.

He found a way out!

He’d found the entrance.

Somehow we had made our way back to the beginning. I called to the group to let the kids we had acquired in the maze know that we had found the start. They gratefully made their way and reunited with their families.

So. There we were, back at the beginning.

My father, the engineer, said, “From now on, we only turn right.”

Sounded like as good a plan as any.

As the sun began to set, my mother started getting concerned.

“Do you think they’ll send someone after us if we don’t make it out?”

“I think he said if we start yelling someone will come in to find us.”

And then… after 90 minutes of wandering…

Parker- “I found it! I found it!”

There it was. The halfway point.

It was glorious. Benches, fire pit, a port-a-potty.

Like Nirvana.

Of course, by now it was 730, the sun was rapidly going down, and we had yet to eat dinner. My father suggested we call it a night and come back to do the second half another night, this time with flashlights.

As we made our way out into the open field, we saw a spectacular sight.

There are a lot of metaphors and life lessons that you can learn from going through a corn maze.

When you’re inside the maze, you have no perspective. When you look at the maze from above, it becomes so much more clear.

When you refuse to look at the map or listen to the guidance you’ve been given, it can make your journey that much more difficult. You’ll probably get where you are going eventually, but you’re gonna run into a lot of dead ends and a lot of frustration.

Sometimes you have to go back to the beginning. Sometimes you have to start over and do it the right way, when you’ve been doing it the wrong way.

You learn a lot about people’s personalities in a corn maze. Who is a born leader? Who has no clue what they are doing, but is loud and bossy anyway? Who gets flustered when lost, and who stays calm? Who can take directions, and who insists their way is always right?

You can race to your destination, but if you don’t know how to get there, you’ll find yourself going in circles.

Slow, steady and methodical really IS the best way to go.

Possibly, allowing your 7 year old to lead the way isn’t the best strategy.

Going through the maze is always better when it’s with someone you love, trust, laugh with, and generally enjoy their company.

Some say it isn’t about the destination, it’s about the journey. And that’s true. But what’s the point of the journey if the destination isn’t spectacular?

We walked around the outside of the corn  maze, along the pumpkin patch. It’s only the beginning of September, but the pumpkins are huge and ripe.

Farmer Bob says the pumpkins got ripe way too early because of our amazing summer weather we’ve enjoyed. They’re planning a “pumpkin hurl” because they probably won’t make it until Halloween without rotting first.

http://www.festivalofpumpkins.org/the-pumpkin-hurl.asp

If you’re in the Seattle area, starting at the end of September, you too can experience Bob’s corn maze. I’m totally going back to finish the damn thing. This time, though, I’m bringing a flashlight and a backpack filled with food and water in case we get lost again.

Inaugural blogs often feel like the opening monologue on “Saturday Night Live”- necessary to get things started, but awkward for everyone. So let’s just rip this bandage off, shall we?

I’ve been told a few times that I should consider writing a blog. I like the idea of it- a cathartic release of all these thoughts and experiences jumbling around inside of my head. I like other people’s blogs. However, every time I think about writing one, I feel like it’s a declaration of “Hey everybody! Listen to me! I’m clever and witty! My life is more interesting than yours! And now I’m going to tell you all about it!” Of course, I don’t feel that way about my friends who  are already blogging. But since when does my measuring stick of others ever apply to my own life?

So, here I am. I’m blogging. I must say, it’s not so bad. I thought it would be a little scarier. Of course, I haven’t posted this yet, so there’s that. If you’re reading this, though, it means I took the plunge. I did it. Let’s take a moment and do a slow “80’s teen movie slow clap” for my courage.

Ok, you can stop now. I appreciate the support, but frankly, it’s starting to make me a little uncomfortable.

I don’t think there’s anything especially interesting about my life that justifies me having my own blog. But I believe that life in general offers constant opportunities to find humor, all we have to do is keep our eyes open. I will say that I have an extremely quick- witted husband, who has passed down his quirky way of viewing the world to our four kids. And we are strong believers in the power of laughter to make any situation better. It’s our main coping mechanism around here.

Today is my 41st birthday. Man, that sounds old. Doesn’t that sound old? I asked my friend/therapist/hair stylist Marques this week, “Doesn’t that sound old?” He responded, “You don’t look or act the way I imagined a 40 year old would.” I took this as a compliment. Hopefully it means I don’t act senile and decrepit, and not that I’m just immature.

My husband, Jeff, is still 40. He has approximately three more weeks of being 40, and he is reveling in that fact.  Last year, for my 40th birthday, he was really laying on the “old lady” shtick pretty thick. My daughter Zoe, who was 8 at the time,  was horrified by the gag gifts he gave me and spent most of the evening offended and in tears on my behalf. I wish that I could post all of the hilarious things that my husband says, but most aren’t fit for public consumption. Just know that for every funny thing he says that I recount, there are probably a hundred more that I cannot.

We have 4 kids. Technically we now have 3 kids and one adult, as our oldest, Sydney, is 18. You likely won’t hear much about Sydney. Not because she’s not funny. She is. Mostly because Sydney is a stealth comedian. She doesn’t say a lot, but when she does, it’s spot on. She’s an observer by nature, but she’s also kind-hearted and doesn’t like making fun of other people, unlike her parents. The thing about Sydney is that  she’s truly one of the best people I’ve ever known. I know I’m her mom, but I’d say the same if I wasn’t. I’d like to take credit for her, but as our oldest, she’s endured the spectrum of our parenting learning curve and yet somehow come out the other end a spectacular human being. More of a miracle than an accomplishment on our part.

Our son Nathan is just finishing his freshman year in high school. Other than a mid-year “come to Jesus” intervention of early- onset senioritis, his freshman year has been fairly uneventful. Nathan is our enigma. I’m certain he’s much different elsewhere than who he reveals himself to be at home. Even his voice is deeper when he talks to his friends. I find him a puzzle I can’t quite solve. What I do know is that  he adores his younger siblings with a fierceness that touches my heart. He’s smart, constantly surprising me with poignant, thoughtful questions and interesting facts. His humor is intelligent, and I often hear his laughter echoing up to me from downstairs long after he’s supposed to be in bed. Some day I hope to know him better. For now I just wait for those rare moments when he shares snippets of himself, and I treasure them.

When Nathan was 5 years old, Zoe was born. Whereas Nathan reveals little to nothing of the inner workings of his mind and heart, Zoe wears it all on her sleeve. Bedazzled. In flashing neon. With an accompanying soundtrack. Everything about Zoe is bold; From her deep belly laugh, to her constant throaty full-voiced singing. From her deep sensitivity, to her passionate exuberance and joy. Zoe is the most like me of all of my kids, which means many of our interactions leave me standing motionless, mouth agape. How do you argue with someone who knows how to use your own logic against you? I look forward to Zoe’s adolescent years with great trepidation and full anticipation of the roller coaster that is coming. She’s a walking, back-talking, Ethel Merman-singing, one-girl show.

Our youngest, Parker, Is just completing first grade. In many of my best stories, Parker is the starring character. And what a character he is. The classic baby of the family, combined with a severe height deficiency and a huge personality equate to the napoleon complex personified that is Parker. A bit of a diva, often his only saving grace is his cute little freckled face and big blue eyes. It never occurs to him that anyone may have a valid point of view other than his (I have no idea where he gets that from.) At 7, he still subscribes to the toddler rules of propriety. It’s not with malicious intent- it’s just how he believes life should work for him. And so far, it has. He has no filter whatsoever, so many of the things that come out of his mouth are shocking and often hilarious. It’s hard to encapsulate a description of Parker in just a couple of sentences. His is a personality that just needs to be experienced. You’ll see.

As for me, I’m the ring leader of this circus we call a family. I’m your typical stay at home mom with unfulfilled potential. I guess that’s where this blog comes in- an attempt to keep my brain semi-functional, and an outlet for all the crazy things I am witness to on a daily basis. Sometimes sharing the crazy makes it seem less crazy. Like somehow talking about it dissipates it a little. So, thanks for joining me on this journey. I will do my very best to make it worth your while.