The Blessing of a B Minus

If you have children between 11 and 20 (or if you plan on your kids reaching those ages, for that matter), go get this book right now. Mogel's take on parenting teens is compassionate, wise, and inspired. Much like her earlier book The Blessing of a Skinned Knee, which was geared toward parents of younger children, Mogel draws from her understanding of Jewish teachings to reframe some of the challenges teens face (and the associated frustrations of parenting them) into blessings. 

In The Blessing of a B Minus, Mogel reminds us of, among others:

~The blessing of strange fruit: Accepting the unique glory of your teen

~The blessing of a B minus: The real lessons of homework, chores, and jobs

~The blessing of problems to solve: Learning from bad judgment and stress

~The blessing of breaking the rules: Real life as ethics lab

 Am I Jewish? No. And you don't have to be either to thoroughly enjoy this book. The ideas that Mogel discusses are universal and accessible for all.  For example, she uses the story of the Israelites' wandering in the desert with Moses. She notes that the presence of God was a "'pillar of cloud by day...and a pillar of fire by night.' This beautiful image is a model for parents whose children are wandering in the wilderness of adolescence. Like God, you stand by, providing shade and light when needed, but mostly you stand back. You wait to see if your child can solve problems on his own before stepping in; you let him experience the natural consequences of his poor decisions; and you give him the freedom to make mistakes, even big ones."

As the parent of three children (12, 14, 17) it's a great relief to read such a wonderful book that eases some of the anxieties we parents face during this stage of parenting. As a doctoral student studying parenting and child development, I'm just a little jealous I didn't write this! 

[edited to say: I should add that I don't completely mesh with one of the chapters, The Blessing of the Hangover, and some of you might not either. There are still great insights in that one; I just try to keep my teens further away from those mistakes than perhaps some parents do. Having said that, I still think teaching and then stepping away and allowing teens to make decisions (and mistakes) is what these years are all about.]

. . .

~ My friend Bridget agreed to be interviewed and has some great things to say about being a new student-mom returning to grad school. Catch it here.

~ Also, a request.  I have been working hard at launching a new idea, one that's actually been simmering for over a year now.  I'm not quite ready to go public but if you'd be willing to act as a virtual focus group and give feedback, I would be so grateful. Just say so in the comments or send me an email (basic.annie@gmail.com) and I'll let you know what you can do.  Then I'll find a way to show you my undying gratitude.

Reading between the lines

Confession: I write in books*-- do you?  When a turn of phrase takes my breath away, when I love a passage or thought, I underline. I scribble in margins. Sometimes I create my own little index inside the back cover with a brief description and page #.  I got this from my mom, I think, who also turns up the bottom corners to mark passages she loves (and the bottom of her books also tend to bear the telltale watermark of the bathtub, where she often reads). 

Lauren was recently thrilled to find a spare afternoon and was looking for a book to read.  We looked around a bit and I pulled out The Hiding Place from my shelf. "I think you'll love this."  She nestled into the couch right away to dive in.

An hour or so later she called to me in the kitchen.

"Hey mom, reading the passages you underlined is so revealing. I feel like I'm peeking into your brain."

"Oh yeah? Which ones?" 

"Umm...let's see. I just read the one about the train and the suitcase.  All of the sudden I think I get your parenting." (We have had a lot of classic firstborn child-parent discussions about what freedoms and responsibilities she's ready for.  Sometimes we agree, sometimes we don't.  I won't lie--this newfound understanding was refreshing.)

I knew the one right away; I've used it in talks and lessons before: 

...Seated next to Father in the train compartment, I suddenly asked, "Father, what is sexsin?"

He turned to look at me, as he always did when answering a question, but to my surprise he said nothing. At last he stood up, lifted his traveling case from the rack over our heads, and set it on the floor.

"Will you carry it off the train, Corrie?" he said.

I stood up and tugged at it. It was crammed with the watches and spare parts he had purchased that morning.

"It's too heavy," I said.

"Yes," he said. "And it would be a pretty poor father who would ask his little girl to carry such a load. It's the same way, Corrie, with knowledge. Some knowledge is too heavy for children. When you are older and stronger you can bear it. For now you must trust me to carry it for you."

And I was satisfied. More than satisfied--wonderfully at peace. There were answers to this and all my hard questions--for now I was content to leave them in my father's keeping (pp 26-27).

Maybe we transfer the suitcase earlier today than they used to in the early 20th century but I think this is a lovely analogy of one of our roles as parents: to know our children and be sensitive to what they're ready for and what they're not.  It's a tough balance and I'm sure sometimes I've been too cautious and others too premature (in fact, my children will all have specific and vivid examples of this, I'm sure).  But for one afternoon, thanks to a marked up paperback printed in 1971, at least one of them understood that we do it from a place of love.  Hey, I'll take it.  And pass along more of my marked-up books.

*Maybe some day I can move on from writing in books to writing them.

Postcard from the cottage library

In my (unwritten, arbitrary) book, an ideal vacation should have two ingredients: books and naps. Oh, and good food. Everything else is just gravy! Good weather? Sure, terrific! Activities? Museums? Sightseeing? Why, sure! But, really, give me some books and guarantee a nap and I'm happy. (I know, what an exciting traveling companion I must be! Now no one will invite me anywhere...)

This time the books I picked up from the library have been duds (or I'm a dud and can't get into them) but lucky for me, the house here has a good little library of its own, with everything from the Iliad to The Golden Bowl to Jane Eyre to Winnie the Pooh to Paradise Lost to spy and detective novels, etc. I could spend a lot of time just browsing all the quirky titles and imagining who brought them here and when/why.

So I picked out a PD James mystery that takes place by the sea (Unnatural Causes). Maybe I'll have time to move on to a classic. Here's what we look like most evenings. (Notice the bongo drums? Believe me, they make a regular appearance as well... What 11-year-old boy can resist bongo drums?)

Although it's on an entirely different coast, this place reminds me of my great-grandmother's beach cottages I grew up visiting each year (one in Pacific Grove and Capistrano Beach). Modest and cozy and wood-paneled with pine cupboards and a jumble of secondhand furniture and squeaky floors and scenic views. It feels kind of familiar.

One Morning in Maine

We made it here in one piece. The forecasted rain has held off. Today reminded me of One Morning in Maine, where Sal (of Blueberries for... fame) spends a day traipsing after her father on the coast of Maine (spoiler alert: she loses a tooth). Have you read it? It's a favorite.

So far Maine is fulfilling my high hopes (which, honestly is not easy, when your {sometimes unrealistic} expectations come from glowing movies and enchanting children's books.)

A little slice of heaven, that's what they have right here in Maine.

(Not paid for by the Maine Travel Bureau, in case you're wondering.)

Ministry of This and That

Sam gave me a firm summer assignment. Mom, please read Harry Potter 6 before we see the movie. He carefully gathered a stack of the series and lovingly left them beside my bed over a year ago but now he's serious and so, finally, am I. I've been devouring the series for the past month or so, in between some grown-up reads here and there.

I know I'm about 9 years late to the party but I've been having a blast, especially since I have such an enthusastic 10-year-old cheering section, his face examining mine with an expression very close to the one I wore when I took the girls to their first Boston Ballet performance (isn't this great? do you love it as much as I do? how about now? and now?).

All of the fantastic titles make me smile: Ministry of Magic. Improper Use of Magic Office. Department of Magical Transport. Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee. They remind me of AA Milne and his Winnie the Pooh books with their Very Important Capitalized Terminology. And then I started thinking. What would my ministry be? Where would I be assigned?

Department of Excessive Procrastination?

Dust bunny patrol? (actually, I'd probably be arrested by them...)

Office of Realistic Optimists?

Committee of Joy and Enthusiasm Seekers?

Maybe simply this: Ministry of Happy Childhoods {for all}. Pretty much encapsulates every thing I'm doing right now, from mom to working with the teenage girls at church to school work and research. I think all of us parents would be there, toiling away as Childhood Engineers or some such.

What about you? Any ministries or departments you would envision for yourself?

And you're all invited to join Monty Python's Ministry of Funny Walks with me:

Now that would be a great job:

"I have a silly walk and I'd like a government grant to help me develop it"