I have a theory about preparing for disaster when traveling with kids: Whatever you are prepared for, that isn’t the disaster that will happen.
I’d rather pack light and have my hands free to deal with whatever comes my way, than to have neatly packed baggies with special treats, toys to give my kids on the plane, and a fresh change of clothes for everyone. Bare essentials for a five-hour flight?
Last year, I shared some of the books we read for Black History Month. Really, Black History Month is every month at our house. But if it isn’t a part of your everyday reading material, make a little extra effort in February (which starts tomorrow!) to include titles that will expand your mind and refresh you (or even teach you something new). Here are some of my picks.
I have never felt like teen parenting was an area of giftedness for me. I believe that parenting older kids requires a firm connection to our instincts, and I’m still learning to trust mine. It requires a long fuse, and a lot of wisdom – again, not really my natural strong suits.
Plus, I tend towards being critical first, compassionate later.
I came back from my retreat hoping that it would change the way I parented.
So far, I don’t think my younger kids have benefited a whole lot. I may be a tiny bit less flammable and impatient, but I don’t know if it’s enough for them to have noticed. I’m definitely a work in progress.
We’ve all experienced this phenomenon in large and small parts of our lives. We know it’s unreasonable, but we expect things to keep getting better. We want the stock market to keep trending up. We want to keep earning interest on our bank account. We want to keep getting better at our jobs. We want to improve our weaknesses, hone our parenting skills. We want to stay connected to friends. We want them to stay connected to us. We want our romantic relationships to flourish. We want our spiritual lives to be rich and rewarding.
Yet sometimes we won’t be measuring up in a category or two. And the people who care about us will ask, “How are you doing?” But what it feels like they want to hear is that you are doing great, things are getting better, everything is OK.
Today, we’re celebrating 16 years of life with our oldest. As the firstborn, he’s suffered the insult of having to Be Helpful and Responsible when none of his siblings were old enough to chip in. He has probably borne the brunt of our parenting mistakes.
He’s the one who’s welcomed all the additional siblings into his life, sometimes grudgingly, sometimes with happy pride. It never failed that any pregnancy he complained his way through (“We don’t need any more kids!”), he warmed right up to the baby once it arrived.
He is confident, has a high emotional IQ, and is kind and magnanimous with his younger siblings when we least expect it. 
His interests differ from mine almost as much as they possibly could – he listens to heavy metal and his eyes light up talking about bikes and outdoor activities that carry a high risk of death.
There is a steady march of packages to the door, full of bike parts and tech accessories. There is a steady march of friends to the back yard to hang out, repair broken bikes, or gather before leaving for a ride.
Every time he leaves the house, I pray for his safety. Every time he comes home, I breathe a sigh of relief.
We have a bit of an awkward relationship these days. He doesn’t want to be accountable to his parents, (or have his mom give him goodnight hugs), but he still has two years left before he is legally an adult. So we do a sometimes rewarding, sometimes uncomfortable dance of giving those last few lessons about maturity and life skills while he’s still with us.
In just a few years, the hands-on parenting will be finished, and we’ll just need to be open and supportive to the direction One takes as an adult. It’s enough to make you start questioning if you made enough of the right parenting moves.
But tonight, it will be take-out pizza and wings, celebrating a milestone birthday for our tallest kid. He said he didn’t want cake, so I made two batches of my favorite cookies. I hope he doesn’t mind.
Happy Birthday, Tall One. We love you.
