I’m fulfilling a job that I never applied for. I’ve been doing it for about 8 ½ years. I had no experience when I started, but no one interviewed me or checked my references. It was an easy job to land but it’s the toughest one I’ve ever had.
The responsibilities are daunting and the hours grueling. On any given day, I might serve as a seamstress, laundress, chef, or chauffer. I’m a counselor, coach, cheerleader and drill sergeant. I have to regulate, respond, mediate and enforce, serve as boundary setter, spy, juror, judge, lifesaver, teacher and tutor … All this before the morning school bell rings.
I’m a parent, of course. And I know I’m not alone in feeling vastly under-qualified for the job.
Kelly Hagen, who writes a column in this space every Friday, will soon be adding “dad” to his list of titles and jobs. I enjoy reading about how he and his “sweet Annette” are preparing for their first child. It’s one of the most magical times in life.
Kelly didn’t apply for this job either, and probably lacks experience like most new parents. I don’t have any advice for him in that regard, but will offer a few reflections.
Parenting is a profession that’s easier to perform from the sidelines. Before I had kids, solving behavior problems in other people’s naughty children was a snap. Temper tantrums, disrespect and outright manipulation were easy to spot and curtail.
But last week, I was momentarily speechless when my own 8-year-old responded to my request with a defiant, “You can’t make me.” The first thought that crossed my mind. “Oh no. Now what do I do? She’s finally realized it -- I can’t make her.”
Parenting demands constant, instantaneous judgment calls. The boys are being sassy, should I give them a break because they are tired or drop the hammer? Are we expecting too much or too little. Am I being consistent or nitpicky? Are we providing supportive guidance or preventing her from learning from a mistake?
Parenting magnifies your own weaknesses and insecurities and provides a fast track to growing up.
As challenging as this can be, it’s not the toughest part about parenting. When I was pregnant with our first child, I remember crying out of fear to my own mom (maybe the hormones had something to do with this).
It wasn’t labor or delivery. I didn’t fear nursing or sleepless nights (although I should have.) What scared me to tears was being so vulnerable -- realizing the potential heartache and pain I was subjecting myself to by having a child.
My instincts were dead on. I was right to fear this and still do. Nothing would be more painful than losing a child to an accident or illness. But my mom quickly placated my fears.
“Well, sure,” she said. “But there is so much more joy.”
I’m grateful she was right. Tiny triumphs bring endless joy to a parent -- watching them successfully snow plow down Huff Hills for the first time, say an unprompted prayer for a hurting grandparent, play a new song on the guitar or sound out a tough word. These are the small treasures that bring endless joy to a parent
It’s a crazy job, filled with heartache and laughter, worry, doubt, and a whole lot of joy. Experience would be helpful, but isn’t necessary -- you’ll get plenty of on the job training.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Sunshine protects our democracy
Sunshine protects our democracy
“Sunshine on My Shoulders” is a favorite bedtime lullaby in our house. “Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy. Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry. Sunshine on the water looks so lovely. Sunshine almost always makes me smile.”
Ok. I’m no John Denver. I only know one verse and I’ve changed the words a bit to my liking. But it’s a comforting tune, and always leaves us feeling more peaceful. It rings rather true right now as the dark days of winter give way to much lighter days of spring.
Already, we have two more hours of sunlight than we did just a few months ago. Ahhhhhhh -- it feels so good.
I recently heard something interesting about sunshine that had never occurred to me. Sunlight illuminates everything for us, but is invisible itself. We can see the source of light, of course, the sun. And to some extent we can see rays streaming from it. But a ray of sunshine is invisible to our eyes. We can not reach out and touch it.
This is sunshine week in the media – a time to celebrate the importance of having a free and independent media that has ready access to the records and meetings and lawmaking processes of our government.
In America, the business of government, at least a vast majority of it, is conducted openly – in the sun. The laws protecting the openness of these processes are often referred to as “sunshine laws.”
Now, unless your name is Jack MacDonald (the lobbyist for the North Dakota Newspaper Association) or you work for a news organization, protecting sunshine laws probably isn’t high on your list of priorities.
This issue is a bit like the sun for most people. We don’t see it or think about it and take for granted these protections will always exist.
About 10 years ago, I had the opportunity to spend three weeks traveling and learning about the struggles of establishing a democracy in a place where this form of government was entirely new. I was in Bulgaria, which at the time was trying to create a viable form of democratic government after years of communist rule by the Soviet Union.
I was illumined, to say the least, by the challenges this and all Soviet block countries faced after the “walls” came down. The biggest difficulty wasn’t setting up schools, building infrastructure or delivering healthcare. It was far more fundamental than that.
Their toughest battle was creating a fair and just legal system that people could trust. Bulgaria’s legal system was fraught with corruption. Their fledgling economy limped along under the absence of legal, enforceable contracts that businesses could count on. Criminals could buy their way out of jail.
And many of the people charged with fixing these challenges, the government leaders, were accustom to operating in the dark and resisted being unaccountable to the people who elected them. They could pad their own pockets freely, reward their friends and protect their own future. Without the threat of legal consequences, these people had little motivation to change.
I learned in Bulgaria that a sound, impartial legal system is the foundation for everything in a democracy. Sunshine laws are a vital part of this. Like sunlight itself, we take them for granted, but our country would be awfully dark without them.
“Sunshine on My Shoulders” is a favorite bedtime lullaby in our house. “Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy. Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry. Sunshine on the water looks so lovely. Sunshine almost always makes me smile.”
Ok. I’m no John Denver. I only know one verse and I’ve changed the words a bit to my liking. But it’s a comforting tune, and always leaves us feeling more peaceful. It rings rather true right now as the dark days of winter give way to much lighter days of spring.
Already, we have two more hours of sunlight than we did just a few months ago. Ahhhhhhh -- it feels so good.
I recently heard something interesting about sunshine that had never occurred to me. Sunlight illuminates everything for us, but is invisible itself. We can see the source of light, of course, the sun. And to some extent we can see rays streaming from it. But a ray of sunshine is invisible to our eyes. We can not reach out and touch it.
This is sunshine week in the media – a time to celebrate the importance of having a free and independent media that has ready access to the records and meetings and lawmaking processes of our government.
In America, the business of government, at least a vast majority of it, is conducted openly – in the sun. The laws protecting the openness of these processes are often referred to as “sunshine laws.”
Now, unless your name is Jack MacDonald (the lobbyist for the North Dakota Newspaper Association) or you work for a news organization, protecting sunshine laws probably isn’t high on your list of priorities.
This issue is a bit like the sun for most people. We don’t see it or think about it and take for granted these protections will always exist.
About 10 years ago, I had the opportunity to spend three weeks traveling and learning about the struggles of establishing a democracy in a place where this form of government was entirely new. I was in Bulgaria, which at the time was trying to create a viable form of democratic government after years of communist rule by the Soviet Union.
I was illumined, to say the least, by the challenges this and all Soviet block countries faced after the “walls” came down. The biggest difficulty wasn’t setting up schools, building infrastructure or delivering healthcare. It was far more fundamental than that.
Their toughest battle was creating a fair and just legal system that people could trust. Bulgaria’s legal system was fraught with corruption. Their fledgling economy limped along under the absence of legal, enforceable contracts that businesses could count on. Criminals could buy their way out of jail.
And many of the people charged with fixing these challenges, the government leaders, were accustom to operating in the dark and resisted being unaccountable to the people who elected them. They could pad their own pockets freely, reward their friends and protect their own future. Without the threat of legal consequences, these people had little motivation to change.
I learned in Bulgaria that a sound, impartial legal system is the foundation for everything in a democracy. Sunshine laws are a vital part of this. Like sunlight itself, we take them for granted, but our country would be awfully dark without them.