Offloading Your Kids, Early and Often

We met my parents at Fergusons restaurant near Marshall for lunch on Saturday.  They then took our girls back to Branson for a few days.  It’s been about 36 hours now and this is when I really start to miss them.  They say they miss me, but water slides and roller coasters tend to make my girls forget that they even have parents.  I digress, as always.   We have done this a lot over the last 12 years, not the meet at Fergusons, but the offloading of kids to grandparents for days of eating bad, partying hard, and sleeping rarely.

Being at Fergusons reminded me of one of the first times that we did this.  Maylee was 2 and Lauren was still internally attached to her mom.  We met my folks there and we had not told Maylee that she was leaving with Mimi and Rowr (my parents).  She had spent the night with them before and been fine, but we didn’t know how she would react to know in advance, so we said nothing.  After lunch (It might have been a late breakfast.  Does that even matter?), we walk outside.  Maylee gets ahead of all of us, opens Mimi’s car, sits in the back middle seat, buckles herself with the lap belt and then doesn’t make eye contact with anyone.  We all start laughing.  She has this look on her face that says, “I don’t know what you think the plans are, but I am going wherever the people in this car are going.”  Lucky for us, that was the plan.

From the time both of our children were little, they have had no anxiety about spending the night or a week with either sets of grandparents, other family friends, going to camp, whatever.  They both are very adventurous and brave.  A summary of your likely reactions :

1) “You evil ogre of a father.  You left your kids with other people over night at age 2?  You should be ashamed”  It’s worse than that.  They were both 15 months when we first did that, as soon as they were no longer externally attached to their mom (We’re all adults here, right?).

2) “I’m so jealous.  I can’t get my spouse to agree to stuff like that.”

3) “You are so lucky.  My kids would never do something like that.”

I have heard all three of those reactions.  People have said, in one form or another, all of that to me.  Here is what I believe–whether or not spending the night away from parents is scary to a kid is almost exclusively a function of the parents’ attitudes.  Little kids think that anything that is new is scary.  Anything that is different is scary.  Anything that is unknown is scary.  It is our job to tell them what is our is not scary. (I have talked about this before, with regard to speaking to adults and roller coasters.  See here.) 

Be honest, it is you that are scared to leave your kids with family for a couple of days.  It is you that gets nervous when you drop your kid off at their class at church.  Right?  “No Cloften, you big judgmental jerk.  You should see how scared they get when I drop them off.”  Of course they do, they are feeding off of you.  You tell them that they are going to have fun, that you love them and walk away.  Then, they have fun and are significantly less anxious the next time.  Hopefully you will be too.

Now I know that even the most confident of kids will go through some separation anxiety.  Some day I will tell you about the time when toddler Lauren literally tore down the walls in her class (It was a make-shift hallroom class made of temporary walls.)  You know what fixed it?  Consistently dropping her off with no drama from us, never going to “check on her” (which translated means, calming my own nervous heart), and lots and lots of Teddy Grahams.

In what I want for my girls, closely behind passionate love for God, respect and kindness, is confidence.  I want my girls to believe that they can go through life, depending on God and believing confidently that they can be and do whatever it is that God has called them to be.  I never want their fear and insecurity to hold them back.

There are some things that are scary.  Snakes–scary.  Dudes in trenchcoats with candy–scary.  Life–not so much.

Calling Your Daughter “Dorkface” and the Need For Therapists

Earlier this week, the Morning Rush on B98.5 in Central Arkansas (listen live here) did a segment on nicknames that you have for your kids or a nickname that you had as a kid.  As some of you may know, I am prone to texting in to this radio program on occasion.  I like saying funny things and then people hear them.  (That’s one of the main reasons I blog)  Well, I texted in some of the numerous nicknames that I have for my girls:

Maylee: Pip, Pipperpants, Sissy. Lauren: Lou, Squeak, Gooberfish, Dorkface.

As this was read on the air, the host comments, “Well, there’s a couple of dollars into the therapist’s jar.”  It was especially funny to me that she would say that, since I talk about my girls’ future therapists all the time.  Just last week I said, “When you are talking to your therapist in the future, try to remember that I sat and watched an iCarly movie with you.”  I even referenced my girls’ future need for a therapist on cloften.com last week here. 

Anywho, what kind of dad would call his daughter Dorkface?  Aren’t you legitimately setting her up for a therapist?  Here’s the thing, though.  She is a dork.  So am I.  She wears that nickname as a badge of honor.  She doesn’t want to be “regular.”  She never has (good thing too).  We are dorks together, being who we are.  She’s not what a little girl is “supposed to be,” and her dad is not a “regular pastor.”  We are not trying to be rebels and be different for different sake.  We are just being who God has uniquely designed us to be.

Sometimes it is hard to embrace different in your child.  Often when that baby girl or baby boy comes out, we can close our eyes and imagine what he or she is going to be.  We map their lives out.  If we had such a plan with either of our girls, they shattered them many, many years ago.  We strongly believe that God designed our two precious girls and that he has a great plan for them to be used by him for their whole lives.  Our role is to help shape their values, character, point them to God, and then someday get out of the way and watch God use them to change the world.  One of them plans to be an actress/boutique owner and the other a cake designer/comedienne.  Well, ok then.

Am I messing my kids up and giving them fodder for future therapists? Sure, we all are.  But it is not from embracing my girls in how they are different, loving who they are, and being good enough friends with them to tease them. 

Loving my little Dorkface is reducing that bill not adding to it.  Now, you call her that, and I might take you out.  Don’t make me get all “Papa Bear” on you.  That’s my nickname, BTW.

Embracing the Fishbowl

Well, my older daughter has a FB page now.  We had a deal worked out, in part because of the move and also as a reward for good grades.  You might would think that this is about to turn into a sappy blog post where I lament how old she is getting.  I’m going to save that one for when she asks to get her driver’s permit.  I know that some people are hesitant to allow there kids access to the social media.  However, the overwhelming number of people in her class already had one, so it can’t be too widespread.

Most people’s concerns come down to privacy issues.  People don’t want their children’s info or pictures “out there.”  The world is a scary place and there are a good number of Mervy McChestersons out there on the internets.  However we have some good controls in place that we feel good about.

But really, she is already “out there.”  If you don’t believe me, look at the banner on the top of this page.  There they are.   Click on the tag “parenting” or “daughters” at the bottom of this post.  Her pictures are out there, stories are out there.  Our life is the proverbial fish bowl.

Often I have heard pastors and their families complain about the fishbowl.  Why is everybody watching our every move?  Why do they scrutinize us so?  People get frustrated and discouraged by people watching them and feel like it is undeserved and unwanted pressure.

We say, “Bring it on.”  I don’t say that because I’m perfect.  I’m not.  We’re not.  If you look (and not very hard) you will see a man full of flaws with a family that is working on stuff the way that all families are.  However, I’m going to tell you about them, perhaps even before you see them.  You are going to know me and who I am, what I’m good at and what I’m not.  The same for my family.  We are out there for the world to see.

This calls us up.  We know that the world and the church need leaders and examples to follow.  However, no one needs someone who is pretending to be something that they are not, pretending to be perfect, pretending to have it all together.  The problem with living in a fishbowl is not that people can see, it is when you have things to hide.  Mind you, I go to lengths to protect my girls’ privacy.  They are never the villains in my stories.  If it is embarassing to them, you won’t hear about it from me.

But we as a family have been called by God to lead people and a local church.  Our lives are public lives.  Here’s the kicker.  So is yours.  Jesus said that you are the light of the world.  People are looking to you to find answers.  What does it mean to be a follower of Jesus?  Can Jesus in your life really make a difference?  People are watching.  What are they seeing?

What I hope they see in us is a family that is not perfect, but is honest.  A family that loves God and loves each other.  A family that wants to honor God and be the people that he has called us to be.  We can’t fight the fishbowl, because that is where we live.  That’s where you live too.

Embrace the fishbowl.  Be transparent.   Be real.  Be somebody that people want to be.

She Said What?

The fam and I went swimming over the weekend.  FYI, my girls would swim 24/7 given the opportunity.  They have been know to be in a swimming pool for 8 hours straight.  They have never even hinted that they were ready to go home. 

Anywho, the girls and I have a series of games that we play.  One is where one of us is on one side of the pool giving clues about something and the rest of us have to guess.  When we think we know, we have to swim across the pool and guess.  If wrong, we have to swim back.  I, as I am prone to do, ruin the integrity of the game by constantly swimming back and forth guessing random things.  (Item #412 on the list “Things Maylee and Lauren Will Have to Explain to Their Therapist”)

Maylee is “it” and gives the following clues:

This is a person

He has black hair

He is somone I admire more than anyone

He is my role model in everything

At this point, Lauren takes off swimming and guesses “Daddy.”  Maylee says that is right.  I am stunned.  Why?  Because I think it’s awesome that Maylee would still describe my mostly salt, salt-n-pepper hair as black.

Seriously, what did she just say?  I am whom she admires most in the world?  Role model in everything?  I can’t accurately explain the conflicted feelings of pride and absolute fear that I felt in that moment.  Now mind you, I have taught on numerous occasions to dads that what she said is what kids believe.  Even daughters, perhaps especially daughters.  It’s one thing to teach it to other people, it is another thing entirely to hear those words come out of my daughter’s mouth and to have the other daughter so quickly guess it.

Everything that I do is being watched.  Everything I say or do is being put into the category of “that’s the way to talk and act.”  Everything.  I’m sure that she has a filter to filter out the bad things that she hears me say or do, but I’m guessing that each one of those breaks her heart and/or confuses her in some way.  “Easy, Cloften, that’s way too much pressure.   Get back to what I came here for: mediocre cynical, humorous obervations about life and pop culture.”  I know that it’s a lot of pressure.  Believe me, I know.  The pressure is not from me though.  It is from your kids.  We would all do well to feel some of that pressure and do our best to live up to it.  We would also do well to learn to depend on a God who loves us and is helping us become like his son, Jesus, and to point our children to that same God.  Remember, though God is described very often as Father, so it continues to boomerang back on you dads.

On the positive side, though, our kids do look at us through rose colored glasses.  How do I know?  She said I have black hair.

Disney World, Fayetteville, What’s the Difference?

Sorry that I have been away and not blogging.  I know that matters to, well, no one.  We went on Spring Break for a week and I made a commitment to not get on the computer any.  I didn’t.  I did have my pocket computer with me, read iPhone.  Barely tweeted or FB, played some Words with Friends, but for the most part was computer-free and family focused.

We went to Fayetteville for a few days to see some friends and then we went to Branson to spend a couple of days with my folks and go to Silver Dollar City.  At one point, Heidi and I had talked about taking the kids back to Disney World.  We (me) love going there and the kids of course love it as well.  However, it didn’t really work out schedule-wise.  I had a wedding the last weekend of spring break and it would not have worked well.  So what do we do instead?  Go to Fayetteville. 

That’s the same, right?  If not the same, close, right?  Let me tell you, in the minds of my girls, it was.  We stayed at the Hog Cottage, which is owned and operated by our friends.  Check it out here.  It is right off the campus.  You can see the stadium from the front yard.  My girls loved it, and asked multiple times while we there and more since we got back about staying there again.  They thought it was great.  They had their own bedroom!  Woo-hoo!  (They have their own bedroom at home, fyi.)  There was a TV! (Have one of those)  There were snacks! (Got those at home too).  We played lazer tag, rode a mechanical bull, rode go-carts and went out to eat.  It snowed 14 inches while we there and we went sledding.  Not exactly Pirates of the Caribbean and Space Mountain, but close.

What did they love that trip so much?  We were togtether having fun.  We were doing something different and they had my undivided attention.  I have worked very hard in the past to plan expensive, fun trips.  The girls love them, but they love these just as much.  I want to create big, fun memories for them, stuff that they will remember forever.  They want me to stop at Sonic for happy hour and buy them a drink. 

What do they want?  They want me.  Sure, they might prefer me at Disney World than me at Fayetteville, but not by much.  We’ll go back to Disney some day, but I don’t feel any pressure, because what they really want is me. 

BTW, please don’t tell them you read this.  Otherwise, they will start intentionally not having fun on vacations so we will go back to Disney.

When the Pastor Gives His Daughter Away

So, I am with a friend the other day and he says, “You start a lot of your posts with the word, ’so.’”  Hmm, didn’t notice that.

So, we as a family are at a wedding Friday night, Seth Latture and Rachel Stockdale.  They have just recently started coming to our church.  He plays keyboard for one of our worship bands.  The wedding was at New Life Church in Conway, great church BTW, where they had been going for years and where her dad is one of the pastors.

There I am with my wife and two daughters and I am watching this pastor/dad walk his daughter down the aisle.  (Jim Stockdale is a great man and pastor and has the privilege of being the dad to four girls.)  Before he gives her away, the officiating pastor gives him a mic and he gives a blessing to his daughter and future son-in-law.  He talks about what a blessing his daughter has been and how he has been praying for this day, that God would bring the right man.  He then looks at Seth and commends him for the man he is and how proud he is to give his daughter away to him. 

Then he did it.  He gave her away.  He sat down and watched his daughter marry this guy.  Then right before the pronouncement, he got up and prayed for them.  Wow.  I teared up then.  Tearing up now.  As a dad of daughters and a pastor myself, I found myself walking in Jim’s shoes.  I will walk in those shoes someday.

The question is what am I doing to prepare myself and my girls so that when that day comes,  I will be as encouraged and want to give a blessing the way he did? 

What do my girls see in the way that I love them and encourage them and value them that makes them have high expectations for a man?

What do they see in the way that I treat their mom that sets the expectations for what a husband should be?

How am I pointing them towards God so that they will learn to trust him and follow him and expect that their husband will do the same?

Do I pray?

Do I go and have lunch at their school on a regular basis and intimidate boys so that they will be scared of me, and consequently my girls, and we can delay this process for as long as we can?

Well, maybe we don’t need the last one.  Regardless, that day is coming.  I will walk my girls down the aisle.  I will give them away to somebody.  Who that somebody is depends on me.

Gimme That Fish

Well, it was inevitable.  We have talked about it for a couple of weeks and it finally happened.  What you may ask?  First, let’s take a step back.

A couple of weekends ago, it was just Maylee, Lauren and I.  Heidi was on a women’s retreat.  Perhaps a step or two behind the curve, we discovered the Filet-o-fish commercial.  If it is not a pop culture phenomenon, it should be.  It is at least at our house. (If you haven’t seen it, watch it below.  It’s 30 seconds.  Without it there is a 0% chance you will understand the rest of this.  After watching the percent goes up at least to 7%)

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csrPT9ClVUc

We played that no fewer than 20-25 times over the course of the weekend.  Now we find random opportunities to say things like this to each other, “You know that fish is right, I wouldn’t be laughing at all” or “Seriously, are you going to give me back that fish or not?”  We have had a blast.  Mom is reluctantly in on it.  By reluctantly, I mean, she hates it.

Well, we had been threatening for a while to go into a McDonalds and play the commercial on my IPhone, via the Youtubes.  On Sunday, we went to the Drive-thru and through what I consider magic technology, we had my phone connected to my stereo system, blaring that song. 

Before we pulled up though, we had to have a comedy lesson.  Like the one guy on the commercial, we had to act like nothing was going on, as if it were just any song playing on the radio.  It was hard for them.  Lauren had the cheesiest grin on her face, mostly looking out the window in the opposite direction.  Maylee had eyes as big as saucers holding in a laugh staring at the workers.

Well at this McD we had to go through two windows.  One to pay and one to get the food.  We got the reaction that we wanted.  Nervous stares.  The thought bubble on these people’s heads had to be, “What dorks.”  If that was the case, then SUCCESS!

After we drove through, they both just laughed and are talking about that still.  Now, here is the question, can I steer this into a reasonable parenting lesson?  Sure, why not?  I’m just that creative.  Why did I do it?  One, I like to be funny and for them to think that I’m funny.  Furthermore, I want to teach them to be the same. 

Deeper than that though, I want to build memories for them.  Small memories.  Memories of a dad that loved them and had fun with them, that wasn’t too busy or serious to enjoy life with them.  Memories of a Dad, who would sit down with them and ponder the mysteries of life, such as what would it really be like if I were up on that wall.

A Troubling Declaration

So it turns out that I don’t have enough time in a weekend to do my paying job (pastor), playing the role of mom and to do my non-paying job (blog-writer).  For some pre-thought on my role as “mom” for the weekend, check this out. 

We had a blast this weekend.  We had a sleepover upstairs.  The three of us piled up matresses, blankets, beanbags, etc.  We watched movies and fell asleep.  (I woke up at 3:30 and decided that I wasn’t really sleeping and went downstairs.)  We also played the “Gimme That Fish” McDonalds commercial on Youtube no fewer than 25 times over the weekend.  We played with friends, won two basketball games, had a great weekend of church services.  It was great.

However, there was one moment that still sticks out it my head that I just can’t shake.  Maylee and I were taking Lauren to soccer practice and as we were pulling in she asked if we were going to stay and watch.  She said in such a way that made it pretty clear that she didn’t want us to stay.  So I’m trying to get out of her why she doesn’t want us to stay.  She is embarassed because she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.

Finally, she says this, “If I make a bad kick, I don’t want you to see it.”  I am going to confess to you that I was crushed.  (If you know her, don’t bring this up to her).  She didn’t want me to see her mess up.  She is hard on herself, very hard on herself.  I would like to think that I am an encouraging dad.  I would like to think that I am “better than most.”  I think that she is great and a great soccer player.  I try to tell her that all of the time.

However, I also correct her when she does something wrong, especially if it comes from a lack of focus or hustle.  Apparently those corrections add up in her mind, and she would rather avoid them, at least during practice.

So what does this mean?  If anything, Dads, you cannot overestimate the power of your words when you talk to your daughters (I assume the same applies for sons.  I wouldn’t know first-hand).  Everything that you say matters and she takes it in.  Everything.  Her view of herself is largely determined by your view of her.  I am now reevaluating everything I say.  I want to be incredibly encouraging.  Even when I feel I need to correct her behavior, I am thinking, “What does my facial expression look like?  What is my tone?  What encouraging comment can I tag this with?”

Maybe I am about to over-correct and be “too easy” on her.  Guess what?  I don’t care.  I could live the next 50 years of my life and I would be just fine without hearing her say that with that look on her face again.  This was a great reminder for me of something Robert Lewis says that I pass on to you, “Dad is destiny.”  What we say, they become.

Hard Picks, Sore Losers and Looking in a Mirror

I have written about my girls playing basketball before.  Truth be known, I would talk about it all the time, because I love it.  I love watching my girls play and I love being their coach. I am very proud of them and how hard they work.

What I noticed on Saturday was a couple of things.  First, both of my girls seem obsessed with setting hard picks, playing highly agressive defense and clawing for loose balls and rebounds.  They are not particularly concerned with scoring baskets, even though they both are good at that as well.  If they don’t score, they don’t care as long as they play good defense and set good picks that allow their teammates to score easy baskets.

Why is that?  Why at an age when every other kid focuses so much on scoring baskets would my kids be focused on other things?  The answer is simple.  I have been their coach for 3 and 6 years and they know that is what I care about.  More than that though, I have been their dad for 9 and 12 years, and what I say and what I value matters to them.  They want to reflect what is important to me and they do.

The second thing that I noticed on Saturday was immediately after a tough loss.  We had a big lead and some might say that the referees were um, nevermind.  This is Upward Basketball and you can’t say stuff like that.  So both of us, were swelling up with frustration like an overheated water heater with no pressure relief valve getting ready to blow up the whole house.  20 minutes later, walking into a restaurant, Maylee says, “I don’t think I’m going to be OK.”  “Yes, you are sweetie.” We laughed.

Why is she like that?  I’m guessing that if you are reading and not skimming, you know that is a rhetorical question.  She reflects what she sees.  My daughters being like me and reflecting my values doesn’t only apply to what I’m good at and my good quality(ies?).  You know what I’m talking about.  You say to your spouse that one of your kids is “just like you.”  Sometimes that’s a compliment and sometimes, well, not so much a compliment.

What do you reflect?  What are your values?  Your real values, not just what you say, but how you live.  What do they see?  Trust me they see it all and you will see it right back in them.

A Nervewracking Lunch at Cabot Middle School North

If you told me right now that I had to speak to a group, it would be no big deal.  If you told me that group numbered in the 1000’s, I would be OK.  I would be a little nervous, because I want my talks/sermons to go well, but large group even super large group speaking doesn’t make me nervous.  (You always hear people talking about the fear of public speaking like it is what people fear most.  For real? Over death, long-term illness?)

I bring this up because yesterday afternoon, I am walking into my older daughter’s middle school with a Zaxby’s lunch for Maylee and me.  Suddenly as I am getting to the front door, I am overwhelmed with being nervous.  “I want this to go well.”  “I want her friends to like me.”  “I don’t want to embarass her.”  “I want her to really enjoy the time.”  “I want her to want me to come back.”

Some of this pressure is unique to me.  When you (and others, at least a couple of others) think of yourself as the funny one, there is some added pressure to that.  However, all of us should feel some pressure and be a little bit nervous.  You interacting with their friends matters to them.  You not embarassing them is important to them.  You want them to be proud of you, don’t you?

It’s easy for parents, especially dads, to adopt the attitude of, “I don’t care what his/her friends think about me.  My dad embarassed me and I’m passing it on.”  However, what would it be like if we put the same amount of energy and effort into these seemingly small events (that are big to them) that we put into big (big to us) events?  What would our kids think if they saw us doing our best to make these encounters the best they could be?  They would experience and feel and know what we want them to–they are incredibly loved and incredibly valuable to us.

(BTW, she came home saying, “My friends like you.”  Victory!)

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