Children: Your 'Staff' in the Real World

The lives of the rich and famous are very different than our own, even if US Magazine catches them getting coffee at Starbucks.  For one, they have more money and while it can't buy happiness, it can certainly make being unhappy much more comfortable and bearable.  For another, they have privileges that are far out of the realm of the real world. One of these privileges is "staff."

A quaint reminder of more gracious days gone by: the call button system in my stately home.These days all functions are filled by moi.

I can't afford paid staff: housekeepers and cooks and nannies and dog walkers and girl fridays. I don't even have a wife, (and I think all wives should have their own wife.)  But for those of us who can't hire help, the only alternative is to make our own. This is why we have children. From the time they can walk, they can be trained to fetch things. They can also do things like "Go wake up Daddy," "Go see what your sister is doing," and "Talk to Grandma."

Before you make the decision to grow your own staff, you really must evaluate your needs. If you live on a farm, you may wish to add a few more hands, but if you live in limited space in the city, one extra helper will probably suffice. If you have really grand plans, you might have to expand your staff. The Duggars must be exceptionally ambitious.

Never, ever, ever happening.  We've never been past 0. 

I am not yet at this point, but I hear that once they drive, they can take your place as taxi service and errand runner, with limited expeditions into grocery shopping. I am looking forward to the day when someone else can run to the store.  (With explicit instructions and limited funds.) And for those of you who had the foresight to have a 'starter baby' six or more years before you added another to your family, you are a genius. Built-in babysitter! While the rest of us have to shell out money to the person who let our kids eat two spoonfuls of macaroni and then followed up with a huge bowl of ice cream, you have a deputy tyrant willing to let your children suffer and go hungry rather than rewarding them in any way, shape or form. Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

I recently mentioned to a friend whose in-laws will be coming to town that she should use her kids, (two small boys who spend the majority of their day crawling and wrestling around on the floor,) to wipe/dust her baseboards. No woman who has to repeatedly tell her kid to get their face off the kitchen floor should ever have to bend down to dust her own baseboards. That's a job that is not only better suited to kids, (they are SO much closer to the work surface,) but also within the realm of their severely limited capabilities.

I say limited, because I have noticed that today's children seem to have less practical talents than children of my generation. OK, maybe it's just my kids, and I totally understand that's of my making. I must admit that it is far easier to just grab a rag and wipe a baseboard myself than to show the kids where the rags are (for the tenth time,) show them how to dampen it and squeeze it out, (for the tenth time,) and swipe it along the baseboard, thus removing whatever dust has made its home there. (For the tenth time.) But if I do it myself in a fraction of the time it would take them, they won't ever have the satisfaction of mastering it themselves, nor will they be able to add it to their repertoire of life-skills. As a parent, it's my duty to teach my kids how to do this in a manner that meets an acceptable standard. I certainly do NOT want to field the phone call 25 years hence from a panicked daughter who needs me to come over and clean because her mother-in-law is staying the weekend. *You are on your own, kid!* And although they currently seem to be incapable of grasping the intention, procedure and outcome of the task I can't help but hold the glimmer of hope that one day I will be able to ask them to do it and reap the rewards of my tutelage. (Never having to wipe baseboards again!)

Damn you, baseboards.

I hypothesize that once they master such a task, they could move on to something more complicated, but I've never actually been able to put this into practice. Their patience for doing a shitty job far outpaces my patience for redirecting them to do it again, and again, and again, until it reaches an acceptable standard. My children insist that they will never have to learn to do all the chores that I do, because by the time they are grown with children, there will be robots to do all that stuff, per the computer animation movies they watch. I really don't want to have to explain that I had high hopes for the same after seeing the Jetsons.

Mom: Did you finish clearing the table???
Kid: Yep.

When they 'do' dishes, items are loaded in impossible-to-clean configurations in the dishwasher, dirty dishes are left in odd places or on the table, and one can still identify what we had for dinner by inspecting the 'washed' pots.  At some point, I've got to be able to let it go and accept that I'll make something tomato-based in that pot the next time to get rid of the rest of it. And tell them they did a great job, so they can experience the satisfaction of a job well done. Whether or not you can stomach the quality of your off-springs' work is really just an exercise in Zen.

You must find the sweet spot between your distaste for doing the task, and your distaste for seeing it done poorly.  And let the thought of your kids dealing with your grandchildren comfort you.

Not Everyone Deserves a Trophy

My oldest kid was in a play.  She danced and sang in the chorus.  And while I have no doubt she gave it a lot of time and effort and did her best, one has to draw the line between participation and killing it.

Sometime between when I was a kid and when I had my kids, the idea that you deserve an award for just showing up, spread through just about every academic and extra-curricular activity and organization out there.  That every effort, no matter how small, (even a shitty one) needs to be positively acknowledged and by simply participating you get yet another trophy, plaque, banner or ribbon for your bedroom wall.  I hear parents calling bullshit all the time, but nothing is ever done about it.

After the aforementioned play, many of the parents gave their kids presents - flowers for some girls, treats for some boys.  I briefly thought about it earlier in the week and talked myself out of it.  This is the conversation in the car on the way home:

Kid: Why didn't you guys get me flowers or muffins?
Dad: Why didn't you have a principal role?
Kid: Because I didn't try out for a big part.  I didn't want one.
Dad: Not everyone deserves a trophy.

CASE CLOSED.

Also known as the Vortex of Disappointment

as most of the conversations we have in it deal with the real world.

I am expecting backlash from this post. Something about diminishing my kids' effort or crushing her soul.  I don't see it that way, and neither should you.


It depends on the kid, obviously, but this type of empty praise can seriously skew their self-worth... (or not.)  I have one kid who relishes when she is successful.  An 'A' gets a smile, and a 'B' elicits a furrowed brow.  She can be hard on herself, which worries me, but I can deal with that since I'm the same way.  I have another kid who asks "what do I get?" when told to contribute to the household in the most rudimentary ways.  *What do you get for putting away your own clean laundry?  Clothes that don't make you smell like a wet dog at school tomorrow.* Completion of school work is her goal, not a stellar mark.  She thinks if she DOES something, (even if it's lousy, or for her own benefit,) it is WORTH something: praise, reward, booty.  Living in the "show up and get a prize" world has led to an extremely overdeveloped sense of entitlement.  This kid is going to be seriously disappointed when she goes to work and doesn't get a bonus for doing her job.

"Employee of the Day"

In spite of what society currently says to kids, I need to prepare mine for the real world, where life is not fair (but they are not the ones getting the short end of the stick,) disappointments abound, (and they must learn to reframe their circumstances and be grateful for them,) and you can't always get what you want, (but if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you need.)

I am confident that in doing this, I'm doing a great job as a parent.  Where's my trophy?

My Favorite Things (a weekly or so appreciation of real life things.)

My Favorite Thing this week is Superglue.  (Thanks, Laura, for the idea!)

In our consumer driven society, and especially in the age of plastic disposable everything, and doubly so when marketing websites masquerade as lifestyle tip sheets, (ahem,) I would like to buck the system and post a plug for repair.  The benefits of repair are multifold: economical, self-sufficient, environmentally sound and overall kick-ass.  It teaches my kids the worth of a buck, it shows them that some things are worth effort and it illustrates our commitment to living a life more in line with our values - thrift, appreciation, simplicity and a desire to lower our impact.  It also gives me great satisfaction to save something useful instead of just tossing it out.

This week, my 80+ year-old father posted on his Facebook feed that he had spent over thirty minutes using acetone to unstick three fingers and a thumb he had unwittingly fused while doing some home repair.  Several people expressed surprise and sympathy for him.  Those of us who know him well were like "Thirty minutes?  Well, it's not the record but it's definitely on the high side for him." And obviously he was successful otherwise he wouldn't have been able to type that.

My father often describes himself as 'clumsy'.  This is not really the case. While I'll admit that as he ages, he is not as spry as he once was, and his reactions times are slower, but he breaks no more nor less than he did at 40, 50, 60, or 70.  What my father is, is distracted.  Continually, always, completely.  His brain never shuts off and he is always thinking of something else when he is doing things.  Thus, he may perch an object near the edge of a counter while he turns around to do something else, then immediately knock it to the floor when he swivels back.  This is a trait my oldest child inherited: the total inability to focus on what is at hand and follow it to its natural end.

My father's train of thought often lacks a caboose.

Thus superglue has been a staple in our home since its consumer introduction.  Good old Elmer's was used before then.  I have many many trinkets in my home that have been passed to me from my parents' homes.  Anything made of glass, ceramic, pottery, china, porcelain and in some cases wood usually has a crack, chip, or piece that has been glued back together.  My Step-mom's need for constant manipulation of her environment (re-arranging,) and my Dad's propensity to zone out while doing so were not an ideal fit. And so it is in my home.


I have a bucket full of fix-its that patiently wait while I mull about the best way to repair the damage.  My children know there are two kinds of damage:
1) A Come-Apart - this is something that can be fixed rather easily, or something that will require major surgery but warrants it because of the value of the piece, either emotional or monetary.
2) A Broken - this is something I'm thrilled to throw out, no matter if it is easily repaired or not, or something that is seriously beyond repair, no matter what its value.  Items below my kids development level, annoying noise-making things, ugly or useless items will be summarily tossed by me if they are damaged.  Other things, like a seriously sentimental spoon rest that gets dropped while drying it and smashes into a hundred pieces, gets an appropriate send off, including a detailed provenance while being swept up into the trash.  If it had been a clean break, I would have glued it back together but it was way beyond that.

Works like a charm!

I have been pretty lucky so far in my repair work.  I rarely *inadvertently* fuse skin, although I have had to abandon projects in the past because what looked like an easy repair turned out to be a nightmarish threat to kitchen counters and skin.  For my father, his thirty minute foray into surgical adhesion is not his first, nor will it be his last.  In fact the only reason he keeps acetone in the house is for this reason.  *Per the asterisk above, I do have another use for superglue.  I suffer from extremely painful skin splits which I have begun treating with superglue.  It stings like hell for a few minutes but ultimately the cyanoacrylate, (also used in surgical glue) works wonders for them.


While I was visiting over the Christmas break, my dad and sister and I went to the swap meet which presented the ultimate 'bonding' experience.  After being sold on the merits of a new improved formulation of instant glue, he bought us all a bottle.  (Three for the price of two!)  I have yet to use this new formulation, I'm saving it for something 'special.'

I will in the next few weeks, bring my chachkas down from the attic and unpack them for display as we put our living room back together.  A good many of these will bear battle wounds from run-ins with my father or children.  I will carefully position them with the scar in the back.  Their secret is safe with me.

What is this Thing Called "Date Night"?

I had a question from a friend with small children regarding the restaurant list I posted.  She wondered what 'date night' was.

Unlike the folks on Goop, we have no 'staff', no nannies, no cooks, no housekeepers.  But we do have something else - college and high school girls who want to make a buck.  Although it can be impossible to find someone to take your place, it is entirely possible to find a short-term substitute.

The best is of course, your mother or mother-in-law, who will no doubt watch your kids for free.  Sometimes this leads to an obligation for something in return, whether it is the backlash from your kids having brownie sundaes for dinner or the command performance to show up in church the next morning.  Everyone must carefully weigh the built-in costs of family sitters.  This may also include future therapy for your kids.  You might get lucky and just have to watch their dog for the week they go on the cruise, but if not, there is another option.

Thank you, Awkward Family Photos, for illustrating my point perfectly.

For those of you who will not have your alcoholic mother-in-law watch the kids or who have moved from your homestead and left family behind, paid babysitters can be had, provided you go someplace really cheap (and fast!) because the sitter is going to set you back at least ten dollars an hour.  This is why I have so many family friendly restaurants on my list - sometimes it's just easier to bring the kids than find a sitter, get them set up with a pre-made dinner or something frozen before you leave (because NONE of them can cook ANYTHING) and detailed instructions that don't include "Stare at your phone all night and ignore my children."  Sometimes my husband and I are able to have a conversation if the kids are engrossed in their devices across the table from us.  And if I don't have to cook and clean up, I count that as a win.

Perfectly acceptable kid food for date night.  But sometimes I have to open the can because I have an opener that doesn't plug in.  Oh, and I have come home to a half a pot of mac & cheese put in the fridge, with the spoon still in it.

To find a good sitter hit up friends with kids a year or two ahead of yours.  They will have gotten to the point in their relationship with their husbands that it's have a date night or divorce and just go your separate ways.  (Hey, do you think that's what happened with Gwynnie?)  All I know is that there was this guy in the house every morning and night that I vaguely remembered from my single dating days.  You know, I kind of liked him back then so I decided we should probably start dating again and see what developed.

If at first your friends won't give up their sitter, mention you need a sitter for <insert a night when you know she has yoga or bible study or pole dancing classes>.  This will be much less threatening in that you won't be booking the sitter on a night when she may need her.  If this doesn't work, you may have to befriend someone outside of your immediate play-date circle who has older kids that no longer need a sitter.  If they had used a local girl in high school, she may still be around attending college or even better, she may have a younger sister waiting in the wings.  (And by the way, I have nothing against boy/man sitters, but I've just never come across any.)  If you are still coming up empty you need to hit up your older friends who have kids old enough to sit themselves.  Failing that, you can contact a sorority or the school of early childhood education at the local college.  The bonus with a college kid is that they probably drive so you won't have to take them home after your date.  (You have to assume you'll have to stay sober enough to drive since in my experience, men are scared of teenaged girls and want nothing to do with money changing hands or driving them anywhere!)

OK, maybe not these college kids....

If all of these strategies fail, there is still one more option although I've never really liked it.  You can always swap with a friend - that is, you take her kid(s) so she can go on a date with her husband and then she does the same for you.  The problem I have with this is that I can barely stand my own children - forget about someone else's!  Also, the chance you will find two nights in close proximity where neither of you have PTO, Church, volunteer or food co-op meetings, your husbands are home early enough to actually go out for dinner and all the kids involved are virus free is slim to none.

Well, not this week or next week.... let me check next month.

So in answer to your question, Rebecca, 'date night' is something to look forward to when your kids are 'tweens and teens.  Until then, just keep waving to the guy in your bathroom so he remembers you are there too.