Judge Not Lest...

This morning I had to check my bank statements and discovered that my son's WOW (World of Warcraft) account was still active, i.e. the monthly fee had automatically been taken from my VISA. I was steaming (he was still asleep) -- upset that he'd promised to stop after the one month, and devote more time to his schoolwork, upset that I'd been duped (no need to again go into why I'm sensitive on that score....), upset that he was back on that thing, and addicted to it.

Since it wasn't time for him to get up yet, I figured it would be good to start morning's devotions. I'd started Matthew and was halfway through the Beatitudes. Today, Matthew 7, verse 1, jumps off the page: Judge not lest you be judged...

OK, still fuming, I try to figure out what that's supposed to mean to a mother who has to take some kind of leadership role.

When he got up, I had on my not amused at all face, and said we need to talk. I have checked my VISA statement continues I, grimly. Yeah? says he, looking a little wide eyed. Your game is on it....

Turns out they automatically take it off, he didn't cancel til the day after. (Either that or he's one helluva good con artist, but he's not old enough or jaded enough to be able to pull that off.)

Loosely translated, judge not for today's lesson is "jump not to conclusions."

Willpower and Kids

Every so often I get a newsletter for dieting, exercise and so on. The article on it this morning caught my attention because of what the author said about willpower.

"...being aware of your emotional triggers so that you can avoid them, Jillian says. She is not a big believer in the concept of willpower...thinks it is far better to control your environment to guarantee success. For instance, instead of telling yourself you are not going to eat any bread when you go to a restaurant, make an immediate request to the waiter not to bring any bread to the table...willpower just amounts to temporary moments of bravado."

I think she's right -- and it makes a really good argument for controlling certain behaviours and attitudes in general. We can talk all we like about training our kids to resist temptation, but let's face it -- it's hard. It's doubly hard when there are no holds barred on the things available for them to sample.

Where does that leave us parents? In the unenviable role of removing some things from our children's reach -- much as we would a pot on a hot stove when the toddler cruises by.

Gamer Teen

With a 14 year old son in residence, we've been up, down and sideways on this video gaming subject in our house. We tried to resist as long as possible (though what exactly that means is that we're as weak as jellyfish), and we've denied certain games (with ritual torture, women and authority bashing like Halo), but we've allowed others (like Solid Gear Metal Honor, or something like that).

We've tried to impose daily limits -- an hour and a half on weekdays, and 3 hours on weekends -- but no one had the ability to monitor this closely. We tried no screen on weekdays, and unlimited on weekends, but that fell by the wayside, because both of us work from home and we're still at our computers when sunny-boy comes home. And since I don't have much replacement activity, I can't very well say he can't plop down in front of the tube and watch.

When he saved up his own money and purchased the PS3 last summer, just as school was winding down, he sat tethered to it for two solid weeks. At first, Teenboy seemed a little quiet, and certainly kept to himself. Then he seemed isolated. And by the second week, he was rude, angry, impatient, obsessed with the game, and completely cut off from us and his friends. He didn't step foot outside, and we had fight after fight over the thing.

Then a magic and wonderful thing happened -- he went to Pioneer Camp for two weeks, which was just long enough to break the addiction, and to return him home in a semi-normal, semi-pleasant state. Then the cycle started again.

I've talked to him about addictions, and he admits it is one. I've given him stats: teens need 9 hours of sleep and for every lost hour the IQ goes down by 8 points; for every 15 hours of screentime, your IQ goes down 10-15 points (not sure if you could quote me on those numbers, tho); after six hours of video games, the academic ability is negatively affected, but it's not the same for TV. Because with the teen brain developments, and the brain adapting to what it's learning, what they are doing is developing very good brains for playing video games but not other, higher function things. I've told him all this, and the best he could do was promise to keep video games to six hours a week, and then unlimited TV time.

And his father thought this was a good plan! No wonder I'm fighting a losing battle. I agreed to try it for a week or two, and then revisit the plan.

The Battle of the wills

Trying to curtail your teenager's screen time is a little like living through some of the Old Testament prophets and their times. I've been through Jeremiah, Lamentations, Daniel and now Hosea -- just for a little light reading.

Ironically, the notebook I use to jot down thoughts from my daily devotions used to belong to my teenager when he was little -- it started life as a "war" book, and the first page is a highly detailed battle scene, with tanks, and stick figures holding on to their helmets, sandbags and barbed wire.

Appropriate, I'd say. Most days, it feels like charging the ramparts in a tank, or at the very least wearing a pith helmet, scrambling up sandbags, scaling barbed wire, and blasting the enemy media crap with both barrels.

Sadly, the battle imagery is just that -- imagery. You can't use it for real, because it won't get you anywhere. But reason doesn't work either. I'm finding it has to be replacement strategies, just like you did with your two-year-old -- "oh look Timmy there's a bulldozer over there" while you hastily snatch the bag of candies out of reach.

Except teenagers are a lot quicker than toddlers, and a lot more ornery when you tangle with them.

So, instead, we use "incentives" -- cuz money talks.

Darkness Falls, and I tiptoe through culture's minefields

Every so often, in spite of all the self-education I have on teenagers, I feel like the ground under me is not so stable. I wish I could say this was a simple case of "The Enemy" attacking, as some Christians I know might say.

But I think it's a more complicated issue of the collision of free will(s), the object being a Wii or an MP3 player, and the conflict between my 13-year-old son's free will saying yes, and my free will saying no.

We had the discussion last night about his Christmas gift list, and my first response was $200 is too much money to spend on Christmas gifts. He, teary-eyed, said I was mean and that all his friends got way more than that. Me, tired, replied that we weren't his friends' parents. He, defiant, said you got that right. Then he stomped off.

I have several problems with the thing. It's not like it's all that new -- we had the Sony walkman 20 years ago and they all do the same thing: allow you to listen to music at any time you like. So my first objection is the ever presence-ness of it -- you can't get away from the music, and there's never any possibility of silence. Not silence in the sense of Mom and Dad can't stand the racket, cuz the things are glued to ears and it's hard to hear when you're on the outside. But the silence that's necessary for life. The distraction is not entirely safe, at least this is what I tell my son, though I've never heard of a teenager hit by a car because they were so wrapped up in their headphones.

Secondly, I object to the downloading of music, for two reasons. The first is, most people download illegally, that is don't pay for it. But the second reason is that you choose only the individual songs you like, so that the "collection" comprises unrelated pieces of music. There's no way a kid gets to hear a musician's whole canon. There's no possibility for nuanced variations in a musician's vision, and even though I might not like the music, I do recognize that every musician has some kind of worldview or vision.

Third, there's no way for a parent to vet lyrics on 300 songs. My stipulation has always been this: while I might not personally like the music, I do recognize your (teen child) choice in music. But I will have a say in the lyrics you're consuming.

Fourth, I do think there's an eardrum issue here -- potential for later damage.

Now that I've had the chance to sleep on it (and where did that expression come from -- anyone who's had to wrestle with something never sleeps, but lies awake tossing and turning, about the problem) -- tonight we will have a family conflab and I will list all the reasons why I'm opposed to giving an MP3 player for Christmas, and I will invite his reasons why he should have one. If they are solid and reasonable, chaos will set in once again, I will spend another night not sleeping and mulling and chewing this over, and we will go back to the negotiating table.

Absence makes the heart feel guilty...

It's been two whole months since I last posted on my own blog, and judging by the site meter results, it looks like my visitors have dwindled down to those accidental tourists who get directed here by their own googling mistakes.

But if you think I've ignored the blog, you should see what's happening in my house! My 13-year-old has just discovered -- no embraced -- the true meaning of anarchy. And my 7-year-old, not to be outdone by her older brother, has quickly followed suit.

In the past two or three weeks, they have refused to go to bed, eat their fruit and veg, pick up wet towels, put away dishes, or turn off the TV and video games when asked. Their dad is looking a little gimlet-eyed of late, too -- he exploded (a lot from a very mild-mannered guy) the other day about how nobody listens to him. That would include me.

And don't even get me started on the house. I was going to go get a new prescription for eye glasses but have decided against it -- I don't want to see the dirt sticking to baseboards like a leech to a swimmer's legs, or the dust that coats the tops of doorjambs and picture frames like newly fallen snow (in a snowstorm).

As if I wasn't overwhelmed enough, I've taken up reading Revelations (it's the subject of my new seven-week Bible study course and not some form of twisted punishment). It could actually be viewed as a book of hope, except for those who refuse to bask in the light of God's illumination.

It's like the dust in my house -- I don't want to see it, so I'll walk around without glasses. But we can't do that with God, cuz if we hope to get closer, the light emanating from his glory and presence is so blinding that it shows off all our dark and dusty corners.

There's one big difference between housekeeping and faith, though, and that is Jesus parable of leaving the interior home so spotless it becomes an open invitation for Diabolo to take up residence. While we're meant to tidy up our messy interior, we're also supposed to fill it immediately with the Holy Spirit.

I'll take that parable into the mundane -- or the profane, as my house looks today -- and exploring my neglect of children, house, husband, and dog (whose nails I only managed to clip last night after three months). In light of those preoccupations, it means that I not only have to sweep out the cobwebs -- the dust and dirt -- but also the bad habits of relating ("whaddya mean you have no clean socks, underwear or towels, if you don't like it, then wash them yourself -- I'm on strike!").

It also means filling my home with a certain kind of presence -- praise of God, focus on Jesus, a relationship with the Spirit. That's the only thing that gets you anywhere in trying to mend fences with those you've disconnected from.

Cuz, anyone who's ignored their kids for a period of time will tell you that it's not easy sidling up to them after you've gone awol (even if it was to work so hard you could afford braces for their crooked little teeth). They're like pets you've left at the kennel for holidays -- they ignore your attempts for a statutory three days then they're all over you like a pig on a sofa.

It's not so bad, though -- usually all they're looking for is food, a hug, and a word of praise.

Happy Holidays

Lately, I've been wondering if I even know what it means to be joyful. The past two weeks I've been off from work, and the kids and I have been supposedly doing holiday things. What I'd envisioned as a lark -- merrily off to enjoy the sights, smells, food, and events of summer -- has turned into hours upon hours of them watching TV or playing video games, while I've tried to corral the mess in the house. Them going to bed later and later every day, while DH and I struggle with lack of sleep. And the endless bickering! Arguing over who has a millimeter more of cream cheese on their bagel.

Mark Gaskill author of Systemic Parenting says that problems with kids indicates a larger problem with the family as a unit. So what does that say about our family? Probably that we're stressed, and trying to do too much.

As the summer winds down and school is about to start -- and we haven't even gone on our away vacation yet -- I find myself writing more and more to-do lists. All those things that were on the summer to-do list have been pushed on to fall.

And what a list it is!

What kind of drug was I on that deluded me into thinking I could paint the living room, hallway, all the wood trim up and down, replan the garden, add a bit onto the deck, take the kids to myriad fun summer activities, write model suite stories for the paper, AND finish the book manuscript????

I think a big part of it is we are living way too much in our heads -- that everlasting to-do list and the miscalculation of how much time it takes to complete.

The pope just came out with a declaration against too much busyness and his conclusions are spot on -- too much activity, leads to distraction and hardness of heart. Barbara Killinger says much the same in her book on workaholics -- that the drug of work can render you numb to feelings.

What's the alternative? Drop everything? Do nothing? Go fishing?

Paring back is important -- in fact, today we are not heading out to Ontario Place, but instead staying home, getting ready for our trip and walking down to the lake and dipping in our toes.

Paring back though has to be accompanied by a new perception of all that we do. Yesterday's Christian quote of the day had this pithy quotation which applies:

There is no one in the world who cannot arrive without
difficulty at the most eminent perfection by fulfilling with
love the obscure and common duties.
... J. P. de Caussade (1675-1751)

Spare Tires and all

Belinda wrote an interesting reflection today on her blog about flabbiness and eating properly, and the spiritual analogy to that.

I'd like to add that when Jesus was speaking to the Jews about daily bread, life was hard. They were hungry, so a piece of bread was a big deal. He was saying I am your daily bread.

Now, however, the tables have completely turned. We have TOO much to eat, we are flabby and overweight. I would also say that spiritually we're overweight as well -- too much puffy feeling, and not enough discipline. I know that sounds kind of harsh, and there's long been the need of a correction in the feeling department (I grew up in an age when telling your kids you love them was just not done!).

But we are so concerned that everyone gets "fed" on the heavenly bread, that we're not focusing too much on the heavenly diet and exercise program!

Belinda's reflection was so right about saying what I put in my body today, shows up in a few days or months, and likewise spiritually. But have we really broken that down to see what it means in concrete terms?

For one thing, it means obedience to God's word and will. When I let my kids do what they want, they are restless and unhappy, without moorings. When I'm too strict, they are uptight and nervous.

It also means not ingesting too much of a bad thing, so our flirtations with pop culture, no matter how much control we think we have on ourselves or our kids, can be courting disaster if not kept in check. A little junk food now and then is fine, but a steady diet of it will make you weak, not able to think clearly, and craving more.

Lunatics and other reminders of humanity

Every time I start to explain my family gene pool, and some of its more questionable spawnings, everyone says "every family has at least one." We have more than one, but that's beside the point today.

I have a niece who fried her brains on drugs -- bad street crack, probably crystal meth, certainly pot, and mushrooms, and so on and so forth -- and though she may have had a predisposition to schizophrenia anyway, that cocktail of drugs certainly sent her well on her way. Now, at 37, she has become completely non-functional. At least before she could survive, and occasionally held down jobs -- an extra in movies, waiting tables, and so on. She does go on welfare and disability (thank the Lord for the safety net here in Canada!). But my sister has had to continually top up her income by at least $200 a month.

She landed on my doorstep a few days ago, and I've asked her to leave. I can handle the gibberish muttering to the ceiling and the raucous laughter as she watches endless reruns of Veggie Tales. But we can't leave the house if she's here alone -- she leaves burners on, lets the dog out, feeds candy and chocolate to the dog, makes endless phone calls to people who have no idea who she is. She wandered over to the neighbour's house and was peering in the windows and knocking on the door. When I went to fetch her, and ask what she was doing, she said she was looking for a car lot.

I said I'd take her to the bus station and put her on a bus for my sister's, but she won't go there. She won't take the subway. She won't find an apartment. She won't go to a shelter, which she used to live in, and where the staff are wonderfully supportive.

My kids like her, though they know she's weird. She laughs at things, and talks to herself. She is kind, and yet leaves her stuff all over the house in a trail like Pigpen's.

I can't work -- she stands behind me as I'm at the computer, talking incessantly and looking at what I'm writing (she's not here now, btw). It takes me six hours for work that normally takes two. My husband works at home too, and he's finding it very disruptive.

She has to go.

And yet. And yet. I feel deeply sorry for her; she is sinking lower and lower on the functional scale (and she can't be put in an institution against her will). I am conflicted about making her leave, for where will she go. I cannot simply say God will clothe her as he does the sparrows.

Some things have no earthly solutions, do they?

Musical Beds

This post ought to put a whole new meaning to the phrase "sleeping around." Although any parent will know what I'm talking about immediately.

Our first child was a dream sleeper -- after I put the Ferber boots to him, that is. After six months, he slept all night and in his own bed. Baby #2, who's now 6 and three-quarters if you please, was a different matter altogether. I remember many nights on the floor beside her bed, shoulder bone to hardwood floor. The other night, the older one, at 13, decided to get into the act. I woke at 4, unable to sleep -- like so many other women of my age around the world -- and about 15 minutes later, Anna came into our bedroom. So Tom went to her bed, but the dog was in it. So he took his comforter and pillow and slept on the floor of that room. Ten minutes later, Aidan came into our room, and said he couldn't sleep. So I suggested he sleep with Anna and I would take his bed. (Confused yet?) Apparently, Anna kept moving and Aidan couldn't sleep, so he went into to his dad in Anna's bedroom, on the floor, and woke him up to tell him. Tom told him to go back to bed. By then, the dog was roused and had to go out to the bathroom. The bed was now free, so Aidan grabbed it. Tom gave up and got up. It was 5 am.

I have since started a new method with Anna. She gets my watch, and is told she cannot bother us until it's five minutes, six minutes (one minute more each night), and this seems to work.

At least it has the past two nights. And they say, I'm told, that three nights makes a trend.