Got a problem? Let your kid solve it

Last night, my husband and I were going over a detailed family schedule for the next 8-10 weeks, including summer camps, dog kenneling needs, guests coming and going, my husband's travel plans and mine (I have to be away in August for two weeks and will miss my kids first day of school).

We were busy mulling over a few problematic days, tossing suggested solutions back and forth, when our youngest slid into a chair, peered at the schedule and winced. "Wow! Busy summer, huh?"

"Very," I agreed.

He tilted his head and frowned as he examined the schedule, reading my notes and his father's. Then he pushed it away and said, "I know how you guys can fix this."

Encouraging him to share, we sat back and waited.

"Okay," he said. "You guys like me, right?" (we immediately nodded) "And you always have a great time when you're with me?" (hesitant, somewhat obligatory parental nods) "It's simple then... if you want to have a really fantastic summer you only gotta do one thing!" (we leaned forward expectantly) "Make it all about me!" he said, grinning.

Time and the pressure of growing up

I gave my ten-year-old a digital alarm clock for his birthday last fall (along with a handful of other, more exciting gifts) and when he opened the clock, he went unusually quiet. I said if he didn't like it maybe we could get him a talking clock instead (no response) or one with a helicopter that lifts off and flies around the room and beeps when the alarm goes off? (No reaction to this, either).

We had company and he quietly asked if he could speak to me in dining room (a sure sign we were about to discuss something private). "What's wrong?" I asked. "You don't like the clock?"

"It's not that, Mom," he replied. "I'm just not ready!"

"Ready for what?"

"For the responsibility," he said. "First I have to set it and then if the power goes out I have to re-set it, and when the alarm goes off I need to get up right away and get dressed so I don't miss the bus. I like how it is now, how you wake me up and how you take care of all those things."

"Fair enough," I said. "But at some point you have to grow up and be more responsible. I just thought an alarm clock might be a good way to start."

"It's not," he said. "I don't need the extra pressure right now, okay? I'm not saying you're old, Mom, but you don't know how hard it is being a kid today. Clocks are not our friends!"

P.S. I'm posting this now because last night he took it out, plugged it in, and set it for the first time. "Think you're ready?" I asked, to which he replied (after a dramatic sigh), "Mom, you've really gotta stop babying me. I'm gonna be eleven soon!"

Reminder to self -- you won't ever pass this way again & room service is overrated

Ask any author with a family and I'll bet "huge swaths of uninterrupted writing time" will be at the top of his/her wish list. It's a luxury we dream of the way others dream of driving fast cars or shopping til they drop. I know it won't be like this forever. When my kids grow up and move out I'll have all the time I want to write. Not so now, though. Now, on any given day, I have more stops and starts than I can count. Here's a sample from this week:

Front door slams, oldest runs down to my desk, attempting to look casual. (He and his brother have been at the local bike jumps) "Mom?" he says. "How do you know if someone broke their arm or if it's just, like, sprained?"

Then there was Tuesday when my youngest phoned from school, voice hitching and on the verge of tears. "Mom, I need you. Please come get me!"

And let's not forget Wednesday night at 9:00 pm when my oldest said, "Mom, I almost forgot! It's my turn to bring muffins to school tomorrow, and they have to be homemade. Not from a box."

Or Thursday when I wandered upstairs to make espresso and found a teenage girl sitting on the bench in my front entrance. "I'm looking for sponsors for a walk-a-thon," she explained. "Your son said you were on the phone, that I should wait here?"

And my week wouldn't be complete if I didn't add these:

"I opened the back door and Sully took off after a deer!"
"Vacuuming is not a kid's job, Mom. Ask anyone!"
"There's never anything to eat in this house!"
"My basketball's stuck on the roof."
"Can you help with my homework?"
"What're we having for dinner?"
"I can't find my soccer cleats!"
"My trumpet's not working!"
"We're out of milk."

I once read an article about an author who stayed in hotels for months at a time because she couldn't work at home (too many interruptions). Once there she'd hang a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door and write to her heart's content. She ordered room service when she got hungry. She slept when she got tired. And here's the best part... she wasn't even on a deadline! P.S. Her intrusive home life included two cats and a roommate who spent 75% of his time travelling with the airline he worked for.

I have a DO NOT DISTURB sign too, but no one takes it seriously. There's no room service here and it's rare that I sleep through a night without a dog or cat or kid waking me up for something. I also don't have the luxury to set up shop at a hotel for months at a time, but to be honest I'm not sure I'd want to, because if I did I'd miss out on those gem-like moments that balance the rest out, the ones that creep up on me when I least expect them...

Like last night, hours after I'd put both kids to bed, when my youngest snuck downstairs and curled up in the armchair across from my desk. He was having trouble sleeping, a by-product of his Tourette's Syndrome. He asked how my book was going and I said, "Fine." "Are you almost done?" he asked. "Almost," I replied. He tilted his head to one side, went all shy on me, and said, "I'm sure proud of you, Mom."