The devastation in Haiti has captured the attention of the world. Like many, I wanted to pack my bags, descend on the island nation and do whatever I could to help. I still feel that way, and I am developing a plan for how I can help the country with some dogged reporting later this year. As we all know, another story will break, the light of the media will shift elsewhere, and the struggle to rebuild that country will not end for years, maybe decades.
The photos and stories of children affect me the most. I want to scoop up as many Haitian children my arms can hold and bring them back to my home. I know it is not feasible and may not be the best way to help. I just feel for the parents and their children. For now, I hug Simone and Nadia a little tighter, give them a few more kisses and count my blessings.
Such devastation makes me think about how much information about the world we share with our children and at what age. I vividly remember understanding and taking an interest in the news when I was 9. I think I will use that as my guide for when and how much information I will share with Simone and Nadia.
When Barack Obama became the 44th president of the United States, I attempted to wake up then 3-year-old Simone so that somehow she might remember the night her mother made a big fuss about something happening on television. As you may remember, the returns came in early. Simone had been asleep a little more than an hour, and I could not wake her. I cuddled with her instead. When Michael Jackson died last summer, Simone informed me of his death a few days after it happened. She had heard about it at preschool, and she knew it was big enough news to share with me. I could tell, though, that death and its meaning did not resonate with her. She did not ask any questions, and I did not offer an explanation.
Simone and Nadia have not spoken a word about the earthquake in Haiti, and I have no plans of sharing what happened with them. I do wonder how other parents have approached such issues in the past and what plans, if any, they have for discussing the world in the future.
What do you say? How do you say it ? And when?
A quick search turned up this resource for teacher and parents.
This is not the way to go.
Nadia, our resident back seat driver, letting Daddy know she did not approve of his alternate route home.
I no longer control the CD player in my car, and Simone and Nadia love Wow! Wow! Wubbzy. I drive while they sing along. All of the songs teach a lesson, and the lyrics are simple and age appropriate. My favorite is We’re All Together written by Bob Boyle. It is about differences and is well done.
A sample:
We’re all together
But we’re not the same
We’re all together
But we are not the same
What fun would it be if you were like me?
There’d be nothin’ to do if I were like you
Kate is Kate and that is great
Pete is Pete and that is neat!
No one’s like Larry
And no one’s like Gus!
Everyone’s different on the planet of us
So, speaking of the unexpected delights of raising children, I started to think about personality.
My little people, as I like to call them, have distinct personalities. They came that way, and nothing I do will ever change that.
Simone wakes up and skips into the living room. Even at tender hours, she has a smile on her face. Nadia, on the other hand, sleeps in and grumbles at us in the morning. Cross her and she will pout or wail or just look at you. As the day progresses, Simone is an intense child, checking off activities, while Nadia acts as if nothing could possibly bother her.
What’s interesting is when I look back at pictures of them as infants, I can see pieces of their personalities peeking through the photos. I, like many parents, have pictures of them at 3, 6, 9 and 12 months, and their personalties were captured on film by the same photographer.
Simone appears a little intense, staring right into the camera, sometimes serious, sometimes playful and very aware. She cried during one photo session. (I promise she didn’t like the photographer.) The photographer offered to remove the tears from the pictures, and I told him that would not be necessary. I didn’t want to change even that tiny part of her history. When I look at the photo, it says so much about her. She gets along with most people. When she doesn’t, I don’t push her. I figure there must be a reason.
As for Nadia, she is just happy and playful and all smiles in her photos. She played with her blanket and wasn’t bothered by all of the clicking and flashing. When she turned a year old, we got a cake for the photo shoot. Nadia dug into her cake and got it all over her face. It was like she was saying let my big sister do all the worrying, I am here to have fun. I guess that is why she likes to turn on the water in the bathroom and run away giggling.
This is what we signed up for when we decided to become parents. We like to think we have control, can mold our children into what we want them to be. I am not suggesting parents cannot affect their children’s lives. Of course, we can. It is just that certain parts of them come prepackaged.
A Honeysmoke reader sent me a link to a Motherlode blog post, where a reader asked why anyone would have children. The question made me think, really think about why I wanted to have children.
My first answer: Because.
My second answer: At first, I didn’t want to have children, or so I said. Long before I went to college, I figured I would dedicate all of my time to my career. Children are expensive, a lot of hard work and so many things can go horribly wrong. Did I mention they are expensive? I was an education reporter for most of my journalism career, and I saw what could happen to children. I watched them struggle with reading, balance academics and athletics, go to college. I wrote about children taking drugs, flunking out of school, getting pregnant. Nope, I told myself many times, I don’t want to have kids.
Then Ken and I started talking about marriage. As we negotiated the deal — that’s what it felt like — I told him I wanted to leave the door open for having a child. He agreed, and I was surprised I was so interested in having a child. What was that about? For the first time, it seemed possible I could help raise a child. I could help provide for a child. I had a lot of love to give, and my parents had survived. We agreed to wait a while and then give it a try. We had no trouble. Simone hadn’t been on the Earth two weeks when I blurted out, for no particular reason, that I could “do that again.”
Raising Simone didn’t seem to be nearly as hard as I had thought, and we were emboldened. We decided to try again, and Nadia soon followed. I sometimes look at my life BK, or Before Kids, and wonder what Ken and I used to do with all of our time. We traveled, we ate out, we enjoyed ourselves. It was all so predictable.
Parenting has turned out to be everything I expected. It is expensive and a lot of hard work. I am sure something will go horribly wrong. It is also a lot of things I didn’t expect. It has been a hilarious roller coaster ride, a series of ups and downs and hidden curves. Still, I would not trade being a mother for anything.
So, what do you say? Why have children?
A growing number of students in California are declining to check a racial box on official forms and tests. Enjoy.
Martin’s Big Words: The Life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
By Doreen Rappaport
We read this book all year long. Simone and Nadia, who have an ear for lyrical text, pull it off the shelf on a regular basis. The lessons are obvious but still need to be taught or preached. I want Simone and Nadia to know they can do anything and they shouldn’t shy away from using big words. Among the other lessons: standing up for what’s right, standing up for others, and peacefully pursuing a purpose.
The book is written for children 4 and older, and tackles tough subjects with grace. The picture book begins with King’s experience of seeing “White Only” signs in his hometown, and his mother makes sure he knows he is “as good as anyone.” Young readers and listeners receive an introduction to the civil rights icon and some history about him, including his role in the Montgomery Bus Boycott and a march for the Sanitation Workers’ Strike in Memphis. ”On his second day there, he was shot. He died.”
This is the only children’s King book we own, and for now it is all we need.
