PARENTING

Happy Halloween! Today marks the first day of most of North America’s temporary weight gain. Mazel tov! Mine lasts as long my sons’ candy lasts– which is usually a long time. The boys are pretty enthusiastic about going from HOUSE TO HOUSE TO HOUSE TO HOUSE to collect heaps of sugar.

Now stay with me… if you live in Quebec, chances are your kid plays hockey as do my boys. It’s kind of our thing. But it doesn’t really matter where you live… for the sake of this post, it is interchangeable with gymnastics, football, basketball, cheerleading, soccer, whatever competitive sport your child may play.

I will now give you the back story so that you may follow along. When my eldest son started playing hockey, his little brother was still in diapers… in other words, big brother took up all the resources (time, chauffeuring to practices, etc…). He showed his great skill at a young age, which came as the result of a lot of work and practice. My husband made sure he had all those extras… power skating, extra private ice time, all the extra hours on the ice to improve his game to be able to give him a chance to make the highest level each year (the extras on top of his hockey program which was already 3-4 times per week).

By Guest Blogger Carol Cain

My teen has been working at adjusting his mindset to what he sees around him and his reality. What he sees around him: parents buying their teens expensive, out-of-the-box cars the minute they turn 17 and new iPhones the minute they hit the market. His reality: which does not suck I might add, is that his 17th birthday will be celebrated a week late because we blew all our money on plane tickets for him and the rest of the family to Turks and Caicos for a long weekend (did you know that flying to Turks and Caicos costs as much as flying to Europe during peak season? It’s no joke my friends.)

The day was September 22nd, 2003. I was selfish. A workaholic. 9 months pregnant. And didn’t know just how my life would change the next day, at 5:40am on a Tuesday, September 23rd.

When I heard the first cry, it literally took my breath away. I was instantly hooked. I hovered over his crib in the hospital. I watched him breathe. I watched his little round face for hours. It was a love only a mother could comprehend.

So to my first born child, my son, who turns 11 today, watching you grow over the past 11 years, has literally, just as the moment you came into the world, taken my breath away. When I’m flustered, you remain calm, saying, “Mommy, don’t worry. Don’t get excited, it’s good.” Or how you can read and watch historical biographies and documentaries for hours, wanting to soak up as much knowledge about the world as possible. Or something as silly as your iPod buzzing off the hook (hello 6th grade!), and you saying, “I don’t care about any of that. I prefer to BE with my friends than text them.” You are all kindness, compassion, sensitivity, intelligence, maturity, strength, and someone I would want as a friend in my life.

The other day, I found my son Ethan in my closet. When I asked him what he was doing, he looked at me and said, ”Mom it’s time to clean up in here. You have such nice things but it’s so messy that you can’t find anything.”

I’m embarrassed to admit he was right. For the next two hours Ethan diligently organized my mess. The end result was breathtaking.

Ethan is my 10 year-old middle child. He was born on a cold spring day in 2003. From the minute I looked into his eyes, I knew he was special.

Yesterday, with a steady flow of tears and an abundance of nervous energy, we sent my 10 year old son off to sleep away camp for one month.

“One of the central tenets of raising kids in America is that parents should be actively involved in their children’s education: meeting with teachers, volunteering at school, helping with homework, and doing a hundred other things that few working parents have time for. These obligations are so baked into American values that few parents stop to ask whether they’re worth the effort.

While some of you may be in the juice getting your kids ready for camp too, I came across some FANTASTIC letters of my own that my mother kept of my first summer at sleep-away camp. I was 8 years old. I had BEGGED my parents to send me to sleep-away camp with my friends, and after much persuasion, they sent me.