discipline

Living Joyfully – Be A Liar, Nutcase, And Tyrant!?

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

So one day I’m sitting on the couch, head in hands, overwhelm consuming me.

The next day I’m dancing.

What was the path that took me from there to here?

Good question!

I’m glad you asked.

Here are the key stepping stones that led me across the river, onto a narrower path, without so many hurdles.

1. Pretend to be sick when you aren’t

What I mean is, if a few sniffles and a “headache” can help your kids bring you tea, quietly close the door behind them, and get all their homeschooling work (mostly) done in a hurry to “help” you out, then isn’t that just a helpful parenting strategy?

Yes, they may play a few more video games that day, but sometimes we have to negotiate with the enemy (is there perhaps a more precise word here?)!

And how do we need fewer “emotionally unstable” or “sick” days? This is the obvious question we want to ask ourselves as the mature adults that we are. We don’t want to HAVE to lie (I prefer the term “play pretend”) to our kids quite so often. What I’ve learned is the following:

2. Try not to be such a nutcase

Oh, come ON, admit it! You ARE a nutcase, too! I haven’t met even ONE homeschooling parent, for example, who didn’t start this way.

We start our homeschooling adventure with our new homeschooling planners (I have paid up to $99.99 for mine – a VERY expensive calendar with a bunch of blank paper inside).

We ALL start with our new, sharp pencils and energy overflowing from within. We purchase a shiny new curriculum or textbook and dutifully divide the book into 36 weeks, the total number of weeks in a school year. When we have completed this exercise with our stack of texts, we wipe the sweat from our brow and think – GREAT! I know EXACTLY what my kids will be learning on March 16, next year!

We pour ourselves a martini and wait for the homeschooling year to start.

What we forgot is that we are teaching little Machiavellis.

We also forgot that we are nutcases, and unfortunately, for 99.999% of us, we OVER-estimated our kids and our energy levels after Christmas.

Plus, they STILL cry every day when we do math.

And we are still in our pyjamas.

Another “sick” day, anyone?

Noooooo! That’s not for you!

We listen. We reattach our ears. We get down on our knees and humbly beg our God to give us wisdom in parenting in exchange for the promises each curriculum provides (none of it works anyway).

We ask for ONE or maybe TWO areas of prayer for each child. Oh, and for us.

God’s priorities will not be those we choose for our kids. We prioritize hockey and extra math lessons so that EVERY KID born in this country will be in the NBA (or whatever the popular sports leagues are) and have myriad universities begging them to attend.

Instead, we humbly exchange our vanity, linked to our child’s successes, for God’s chosen priorities for them.

And His priorities for us are interior postures of the heart, a heart sickness within each of our kids, and in us to focus on. Lying? Selfishness? Bickering? Jealousy?

Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

The Message

The other stuff comes.

Look at our family. We stink at looking good when we are homeschooling, and yet even our children have astonishing accolades! Maybe that’s just because homeschooling kids give hope to our culture.

Whatever.

The point is that when they leave the house, you’ll suddenly realize it matters a lot more than you initially thought that your kids are kind instead of culturally amazing. And then the nut doesn’t fall far from the tree! Just like a clean house, exceptional kids lacking in character are DEFINITELY overrated.

3. Become a tyrant

It’s the kids who are born as tyrants, but if you become a tyrant, there is order in the home. Then the true skill we need to learn next is how to become a tyrant to ourselves. We need to grow in the skill of bossing OURSELVES around.

When we show up at a paid job, in our office clothes and clipboard, we say “Yes Ma’am!”, do what we are told, then come home exhausted and put our feet up.

But when we show up on our first day of homeschooling, for example, no terrifying boss threatens to fire us each day.

It’s easy for us and our kids to stay in our pyjamas.

Learning to manage our own time is a skill.

Shout out to Mystie Winckler, who helped me a lot here.

Essentially, what is the MINIMUM work that needs to get done by my kids and by me? CHECKING my kid’s work is MY JOB I need to do, whether I feel like it or not. How am I doing with that job?

And if you find you are in overwhelm again? No problem, dear friend.

1. Declare another sick day!

2. Pray a LOT!

3. Learn a couple of tangible skills to proactively manage the ship!

It’s all about rhythms, and this is your rhythm, Mom, Dad.

Don’t give up!

You’re welcome!

Good luck!

If We Laugh More, We Can Dominate Others More!

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

I was frustrated, kicking the ground as I walked. Homeschooling is impossible enough without this additional hurdle lying prostrate before me. I didn’t have enough speed to make it through the regular hurdles of life. . .

. . . nevermind this race I’m running strewn with toppled school desks, kid’s toys, and homeschooling supplies.

We did a personality test for a fun homeschooling project.

The results scared me to my core.

My daughter, the one who has been slowly asserting dominance over me every time my back has been turned since she was, oh, about two months old, has a personality that is – get this – most similar to a lion.

And my personality?

Not a lion tamer. Nope.

Not a blue whale, larger than life.

Not a great white shark, terrifying those within a several kilometre radius.

My personality, most unfortunately, given that I have a lion-like child trying to bite me whenever I’m not looking, is best compared to . . .

. . . a sweet and gentle creature whose favorite past time is to play.

My personality is most similar to that of an otter.

“And HOW is an otter supposed to lead a lion?” I yelled at God that day, kicking the path as I walked.

“All that kid wants to do is eat me!”

Try being David when your child is Goliath. Sure, it’s one thing to vanquish Goliath in a one-off contest using an unexpected weapon. But LEAD Goliath, David? Day after day? Good luck!

And that’s my job.

Also the strategy of “hide a bit and hope to survive until, oh, 8:30 am when the school bus comes each day” won’t work for me.

Nope.

This kid is with me 24/7.

We homeschool.

What was I thinking taking on this mammoth task?

“God!” I called out, my anger turned to desperation. “How is an otter supposed to parent a lion?”

And the picture He gave me in my mind that day as I walked changed everything.

The picture was of an otter, front legs straight out and entirely touching the ground, tail wagging.

Now pause here because this picture has meaning to dog owners. This is the position dogs assume to indicate it’s playtime.

And the rest of the picture?

The lion assumed the same pose, following the cues of the otter. Behind the roaring facade, she wanted to have fun.

She just didn’t know how.

Play with her, God whispered.

And I was given a tool that unlocked my daughter’s heart and opened a new parenting door for us, leading to a beautiful place.

I understood what He was whispering.

The lion will WILLINGLY submit to the otter so she can play.

The next day, when that little lion led me to an emotional place I never wanted to visit again, I stopped myself from following her lead.

I wasn’t in the mood to play.

But “Let’s play,” I announced.

I thought, “Let’s play a game where I try not to wring your little neck.”

But when I took the reigns, went with my natural strengths, and played with her, even though I didn’t feel like it, the little lion unwound herself and laughed a bit. And she hugged me.

And she was so dang cute that we played a little longer, and soon, I was having a great time, too.

I was leading again.

She naturally followed.

But this is the weird thing.

She came under my leadership for the rest of the day.

Fifteen minutes of play transformed her into a little lion-otter, expectantly waiting for me to help fun tickle her side at any moment.

And I made it through that homeschooling day.

Reflecting that night with a glass of wine, I asked my husband to promise to help me remember to proactively PLAY with my little lion so I could dominate her.

Er. . . LEAD her, I meant to write.

Whatever.

The point is that God has a solution to our EVERY problem.

And who knows? Maybe this strategy would work in other situations?

Try it with your boss. Tell him he’s a loser, and then laugh. See if you get that promotion after all!

You’re welcome!

Good luck!

God, thank you that our mammoth problems are tiny piles of sand to You, that can be blown away with one breath of Your Spirit. Speak to us and remind us to hide beneath Your wings, the place where You hand out both love for us, and wisdom for our myriad challenges, we pray.

He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.

Ancient Text

How To Make Homeschooled Kids Clean Up (Avoid Insanity, Parents!)

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

This post could make you feel like a Superhero Mama in Clark Kent clothes (OK – Clark Kent clothes with a bit of spit-up on them. Who’s looking THAT closely?) because this post is filled to the brim with advice about how to make your homeschooled kids clean up.

(Or at least there is one piece of advice somewhere in this post. I hope you can find it. While you’re looking, have you seen any pencils? We lost all of ours so it’s becoming harder to do our math.)

We moms sit on the floor, despair weighing us down as the kids fly paper airplanes around us, laughing, and the dog follows. We had a great day, yes. The homeschooling party is over for the day, yes. Mom is exhausted and she can’t even find a few inches of kitchen space to drag out the carrots to chop for dinner tonight.

HOW do you make the little rascals clean up???

This was the subject of many years of my careful research. I scoured homeschooling stores and dumped piles of regular dollars in exchange for a few cheaply printed “Mom Dollars” linked to “rewards that all children love,” believing the promise that THIS TIME, they will clean up.

It all failed.

In fact, sensing an inner weakness with their sixth sense (the one only accessible to children), one child purposely hid random items all over the house because “It was easier than putting it away,” she confessed, eyes downcast.

They are purposely trying to wear you down.

Don’t let them.

I printed this small quip that my brain construed one random Wednesday evening. And the sign stuck. And it worked. Voila!

For the price of – well, nothing, really – you can make your Grade 4 student practice their cursive and you’re got a sign too! But here it is – the magic formula…. Drum roll, please…

A touch of brilliance if I may say so, however immodestly. No eating until there is enough tidying that at least one clean bowl surfaces. AND since they EAT, and since the sign is staring you in the face AS you serve the food, you remember to enforce this new “homeschooling rule,” so Voila! Magic!

Notice the algebraic ORDER of things. FIRST clean up. THEN face stuffing.

The homeschool magic key unlocking every child’s inner Mr. Clean has arrived! You don’t eat until you’ve dumped a dozen or so shovelfuls of horse manure outside.

That would be if you were a farmer.

In our case, it is partially used math supplies and dirty cups with unfinished, carefully measured daily water allocation goals for each child. But you get the point.

And yes, I am aware that the phrasing implies that we are knee-deep in moldy, forgotten science experiments and half-finished math pages strewn about when it says “Clean up the place.” Duh – we are.

Also, I am aware that the words “stuff your face” don’t exactly imply dinner manners appropriate for Ms. Lovelybottom’s approval (I’ll explain her someday too since I have already told you other embarrassing stuff and you still like me).

The point is, the cleanup gets done. I can sit at the table with my feet up, sip a lemonade, watch them work, and realize that actually, I am doing a good job. Everyone is happy. Even, and especially, me.

For a few minutes at least.

But who’s counting?

And if it takes a ridiculous sign to make it through another week, another year? Well, print away, dear homeschooling parent.

So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop . . . The Message

We take a little homeschool bliss where we can get it.

At least we’ve got our priorities in the right order.

A clean house is overrated, anyway.