I'm growing kids, not tomatoes!

As a parent, you try your hardest at times to make everything just right, and sometimes minor inconveniences can appear to be major catastrophes. This is particularly true when you have limited perspective on how tragic and painful life can be.

While living in Japan years ago, my wife was attempting to raise cherry tomatoes on the balcony of our apartment. It wasn't a major gardening effort, but with space at a premium in Tokyo, my wife wanted to grow a few things to supplement our dinner plate. Then, one day we realized that our 2-year-old daughter had discovered the joy of picking the tomatoes and tossing them down the stairs (and they don't bounce very well either).

Now, while it wasn't a life-threatening scenario, it was somewhat disappointing to us to have missed out on a potentially nice load of delicious tomatoes. Yet, reflecting back on that, her picking them didn't raise the event to a category 5 hurricane. It was one of those things that you just need to brush off and laugh a little.

By doing so in similar situations, anyone might be able to build some resilience when (not if) real dire circumstances blow our way.

One Snowy Adventure

A few years ago, I wrote this post, and I think the message is every more important and relevant to me today. Enjoy.

Over the years, I have realized that doing stupid things . . . the types that lead to natural consequences . . . tend to be part of our human existence, and no one is really able to escape this fact. As a young boy in Indiana, wintertime brought with it the joys of playing in the snow and hoping school would be canceled because of a blizzard. This time of year also presented a number of opportunities to explore the nearby woods and pond at the center of our neighbor. Leading into the pond was a small stream that served not only as our local fishery in the summer, but also the whitewater adventures on rafts after a heavy thunderstorm.

I also realize now that the attention span and wisdom of an 11 or 12 year old is often about as short as a blade of grass, and I wasn't exempt from this fact. In the deep of winter I felt one way to demonstrate my manhood was to cross the frozen stream, having absolutely no idea on how think or thin the ice was. I think we all thought the thinner the better because the cracking of the ice as you tried to make it across somehow demonstrate an extreme level or courage rather than sheer stupidity.

On one occasion, we decided to try swinging across the creek on a rope that was designed for summer fun, and in one attempt, I lost my grip and crashed through the ice. Fortunately, the water wasn't that deep, and I was able to pull myself out, but young boys seem to do most things against good reasoning and judgment.

Looking back on that and similar times, I sometimes wonder why in the world I did some of the things I did; I just need to have the same level of patience when dealing with my own kids.

Garden Miracles

Over the years, our family has had mixed success in growing a garden, but for the most part (and as a general rule), plants flourish when you take care of them. However, from time to time, we end up with seeds that start growing on their own, originating from many possible sources: old plants from the previous year, bird droppings, the wind . . . who knows. These unplanned plants, often called "volunteers" in the garden community, are generally unwanted, and I usually just yank them out of the ground.


This year, one such plant sprouted in my onion patch, and I was very tempted to pull it out along with a bunch of other weeds. However, I hesitated, thinking of giving the plant a chance to grow. On more days than one, I stared at the plant, wondering where its sprawling leaves and vines would take it. "What could come from such plant," I grumbled, thinking that the area of the garden could be used much better for other purposes. Please understand that I didn't want to waste my time and water on some no good plant just taking up space.

As the summer passed, the unknown plant kept growing and growing, expanding itself into the onions, on to the lawn, and up a trellis supporting other vegetables. I also spotted a strange melon-like fruit growing on the ground. It didn't quite look like a cantaloupe or honeydew melon, but it seemed to be of that family. Then, it suddenly ripened. We hauled the melon into the kitchen, cut it open, and saw a seemingly bland-looking fruit. Not quite the rich-looking orange of sweet cantaloupe, but when we bit into it, we were amazed out how an ordinary, unwanted plant could turn into scrumptious  treat.

Later on in the season, two more huge fruits ripened on the vine as seen in the picture, weight about 12 pounds (5.5 kilos) each. So the next time you think something isn't worth the effort . . . that something is simply worthless . . . give it a little time, patience, and care, and you might be surprised what it turns into at the end of the harvest.
So the next time you think something isn't worth the effort . . . that something is simply worthless . . . give it a little time, patience, and care, and you might be surprised what it turns into at the end of the harvest. Perhaps, that is the same with raising kids: don't count them out without the right nurturing patience that they need. Never give up!

Being Prepared for the Long Parenting Journey

"If you have never been hated by your child, you have never been a parent. "

Bette Davis (1908-1989), American actress

Sometimes, as a parent, we might have the inclination to beat ourselves up for all our kids failings, particularly when children externalize their reasons for their problems which often fall in our direction. Of course, there are times when we must accept accountability for our shortcomings, but children often have an uncanny ability to make it all our fault and we often internalize this criticism to an extreme. They often magnify the serious of a situation and become can become very dramatic.

I've just been grateful that as my children have gotten older, they have reach a point where they realize that while we aren't perfect, we're not quite to ogres that might have appeared to be years ago. So, when hard times come your way and your kids scream in your face, bite your tongue a little with the knowledge that this phase will pass . . .  perhaps not in the timeline you would hope for, but things often improve. You just have to be prepared for the long haul.

Patience: An Underappreciated Virtue

"I can't control the wind, but I can adjust the sails."

One of things that can cause serious frustration in life is our inability to accept the fact that we have limited control over certain things that happen to us in life. Yes, I can usually decide whether I get up at 6:00 a.m. or 6:10 a.m. or whether or not I smile to the person walking past me on the street. However, some things are simply beyond our control. Fretting and complaining about it won't change the facts.

With this in mind, although parents can have a great influence on their children, we can't control many of their choices very easily. (Tying them to their beds just isn't a viable option.) You just have to accept the fact that their attitudes toward you might evolve over time. You could almost summarize the thought life cycle of a in this way:

• Six years old: "My dad knows all kinds of stuff, and he knows more about fishing than your dad."
• Ten years old: "My dad knows a lot about a lot of stuff, but he can't make dinner very well."
• Thirteen years old: "My dad? He just doesn't understand how things are today. So old fashioned."
• Fifteen years old: "Who? My old man? He just doesn't get it. He's a control freak! When I turn 18, I'm out of here! I can live life the way I want without him breathing down my neck and trying to tell me what to do and how to live. This family sucks! It's not his call to decide on how I live my life."
• Seventeen years old (and one day before turning 18---a legal adult where I live):  "My dad says I'll be an adult tomorrow. Hmmm . . . Why is he celebrating in his bedroom?"
• Eighteen years old (the day after turning 18): (Banging on the locked front door) "Uh dad? Uh, I know I said I wanted to move out when I turned 18, and you so nicely packed all of my belongings in boxes and placed them outside along the curb for me . . . thanks . . . but could I stay a little longer? Oh, and I don't have $250 to pay you rent for first month. Dad? Dad? I know you're inside there." 
• Nineteen years old: "Dad. I love you! So much! Can I have (not borrow) $50?"
• Twenty-one years old: "My dad knows a lot about a lot of stuff, but he can't make dinner very well."

As you can see (or will see in the future), our children's feelings toward us often goes through cycles, and by accepting the fact that teenagers can be calm one minute and then can go ballistic another is a fact of life. We can't control the wind, but we can have some influence on how we (and our children) trim the sails. Having patience in the midst of any frightening storm can help us see things through.