Cate refuses to accept that summer is over last Labor Day.
Photo by MadGiddy.

Dear Catie,

I know Momma’s all over the world say this at nearly every birthday for nearly every child, but I cannot believe you are eight years old! You have such a sweet little voice, and the top of your head still smells like baby hair – so I often forget how much you have grown up!

The child development books say there are years of equilibrium and years of dis-equilibrium, and this has been an unbalanced year for you. You’ve done a great job, and worked hard at growing up, but it has been hard and sometimes you have been tired.

Seven has reminding me a lot of three, with my golden-haired baby suddenly errupting into ‘the rage mister.’ Daddy and I have tried to teach you that it’s okay to be angry. But that anger shouldn’t be thrown at other people. You’ve worked hard to get your anger into a reasonable level so that you don’t hurt the dog or your sissy with scary voices or mean words. I’m proud of you! And you are doing very VERY well at figuring out what emotion is hiding behind anger’s big noise. Did you know that a lot of grown-ups can’t even do that! You are so awesome!

This year we moved away from Seattle to Denmark. It was a HUMONGOUS change, and you are handling it really, really well. I know you are frustrated that you don’t speak Danish yet (especially because Sissy does.) But you understand SO much, and you are already making Danish friends. So don’t worry, you will speak it soon. And don’t worry about forgetting English either. I promise you will always remember your English words. You don’t have to trade one for the other.

Your superpower of Friendship has definitely been able to Shine this year! You made such close friends with sweet Claire before we left, and every kid in class wrote amazing things about you in your goodbye book. I’ll never forget you reading that book so tenderly, and not even wanting to share it with mommy at first, because you knew how precious all those words were. You cried a little and said, “Mommy, I wish I could just call all these friends and say ‘thank you’ because they said SUCH nice things about me!” And do you know what baby? They are all true! Just yesterday Daddy said that you have special aura about you that draws people to you. Everyone says they notice you because you have such cute hair, but Daddy thinks it is because of your superpower. People are drawn to you because you are such a good friend. I guess that’s why every kid on the street waves to me – even though I don’t know them—and then says to their Mom or the friend they are walking with, ‘Det er Cate’s Moa’ (That’s Cate’s Mom!) Everyone knows Cate because she is good friend!

You are going to get to do such amazing things this year! Go back to drum or piano lessons. Sail to an island in the Danish sea. And because sculpture is your favorite, we will go to Italy so you can see the very best sculpture in the whole world. I can’t wait to see you looking up at those amazing Michelangelo’s! By this time next year you will have a whole slew of new friends on your playdate schedule; a half dozen new pins on your ‘where I’ve been’ map; and maybe even a solo airplane flight to sail with Grandma and Grandpa on the Lady Penelope!

Thank you for being my younger (not little!) daughter, and for being the best cuddler in the whole wide world. I love you, ‘Baby’ Cate!

-Moa

Cate is turning eight on Sunday and it shows.

Every year around her birthday, Cate pretty much freaks out. When she was 3 she was nicknamed ‘the ragemiester,’ and whenever she goes through stages of transition she reverts emotionally to the screaming stage.

Last week Cate was driving me crazy – screaming at her sister, giving up games and projects at the slightest road block, dragging her heals around her chores. Finally she came into the kitchen and saying: “Moa? Moa? Moaaaaaaah?”

My first impulse was to snap at her, but a little bell rang inside me and I got down at eye level instead. “What do you need Cate?” She looked at me with a surprised look, and then stared around kind of blankly. Finally she said, “I can’t remember…I…um…I think I just need some extra attention.”

I was pretty proud of her just then—sussing out her emotional needs like that. So we sat down on the floor and she cuddled up next to me and we talked about this and that for awhile. Eventually she said, “Moa. I don’t want to have a party for my birthday.” I was surprised to hear that, seeing as she had been making invitation lists for weeks.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because it will be so noisy. And there will be too much kids. And there has to be games and everyone has to get a prize and people are sad if they don’t get the prize they want and I get mad because I don’t even think they should get prizes and attention because it’s my birthday! (pause) And also, it’s a lot of Danish.”

Once again, pretty impressed. Instead of a party Catie decided to take her friend Elsa to a local amusement park for the day. She knew it meant less presents, but it didn’t seem to bother her, and there was ice cream in the deal, with sprinkles — or possibly a cotton candy as big as her head–so really, what more could you want?

Before I became a mother, I assumed kid-birthdays were fun. I remember mine as being really fun. Then again, I have a distinct memory of sobbing my head off at my sixth birthday because my grandfather cut the ear off the panda bear cake. (I’m not sure what I thought would happen to the cake, but I sure didn’t want that panda to get cut up.) I’d never really considered how frightening it can be to mover deeper into being a ‘big kid’ each year, or how overwhelming some kids might find the sugar-fueled celebrations. Ans as much as Moa isn’t ready for her little one to get so big so fast, maybe the little one isn’t all that ready either.

So here are some tips and tactics we’ve tried to help ease the transition into the next level of bigness. I hope some of them will help if your child has a hard time around birthdays.

-As the big day approaches (and for some time afterwards, perhaps) carve out some extra time to spend with your child one-one-one.

-Look through a photo album together and talk about fun things that happened in each age/stage of your child’s development. Assure them that there are good things around the corner.

-Be extra faithful to any comfort rituals you have already established with your child – bed time routines, read-a-loud habits, special suppers .(Friday is pizza night around here.) These familiar rites may be especially important during this time of transition. Try not to let the busyness of birthday plans push out the everyday anchor points.

-Limit family activities in the weeks surrounding the birthday. Don’t over tax the child with ‘fun’ events.

-Try to find out what kind of celebration would feel best to your child. (A big party with pals? A fun outing with one friend? A special date with mom, dad, or family?)

-Talk about presents in advance and try to set reasonable expectations. – Will there be any presents? ((A lot of the familys we are friends with only do a gift from mom and dad, not from friends, on birthdays.) Does the child expect one present or many? Do they want ‘outing’ presents (movie tickets, trips to the aquarium) or ‘things’ presents?

-If family members tend to send ‘birthday money,’ talk about how that can be used if there is a special present the child wants, but doesn’t received. Doing some advance work on this may help cushion any disappointment on the big day.

-If you do have a party remember this rule of thumb: “the age of the child plus one” is a good guideline for how many kids to invite. More than that is tough for a kid to handle.

-Remember that often, the most memorable things about childhood birthdays are the simplest traditions – the fact that the birthday kids got to pick out the evening meal, or that the family always sang their favorite song to them at dinner time.

What are your tips for helping your child through growing-up transitions and birthday excitement overkill?

Cross-posted with other Magpie Mama parenting advice at Minti.com.

click watch a joyful romp

mother’s prayer #105

may my children for always
feel this at home in
their holy, beautiful bodies.
amen.

This is a repost from a series I began back in April about what we communicate to our children about their sexuality. I’m putting it up again now because I’d like to return to the topic and I thought it might help to bring new readers up to speed. At the bottom of this post are links to the follow-up posts that I’ve already written–which rely heavily upon the great input received in the comments. I’ll be posting the next installation sometime in the next 24 hrs. If this is a topic that rings with you, I hope you’ll jump into the discussion. Thanks for reading. - Rachelle

What I Think About Kids & Abstinence

“Don’t you remember at church, when they told us it was better for us to come home in a pine box than to lose our chastity?”

-Sarah Henrickson (18) to her brother Ben (16)
Big Love

I grew up in the church. The conservative evangelical church to be exact. Sundays and Wednesdays were spent at the Lutheran Church, and Monday-Friday at the Assemblies of God private school (chapel three times a week, Bible class every day, choir, and optional 7am prayer meetings.) If you’ve ever seen the fantastic dark-comedy Saved, then you have seen my life. It’s like a hidden camera reality show based on my high school, only with better hair.

Growing up, the message I received was that the absolute worst thing you could do was to have sex outside of marriage. It was worse than getting drunk. Hell, it was worse than DRIVING drunk. Sex, actual intercourse, was totally forbidden. All the other bases were either totally verbotten or pretty damn bad. Oral sex. Very Very Bad. Groping of all kinds. Bad. Making out in your boyfriend’s car. Not great. Kissing. Tolerated –but not on school grounds, of course, or you would be given a two day suspension. Holding hands? Well, okay, but only holding hands; certainly not putting your arms around someone’s shoulder. Anything and everything you might do with someone of the opposite sex was cloaked in shame. Tickling? Shoulder rubs? Boy-girl stunts in cheerleading? It was all highly suspicious. (Do I even have to mention that doing anything with someone of the same sex was completely off the charts? You might as well pick up a ‘go directly to hell’ card.)

We had sex education, once, in fifth grade. It was mostly to make sure everyone was in the know about getting your period. I suppose the boys had a similar filmstrip about unwelcomed erections, but I’m not sure. It was the 80’s and AIDS education was huge, so even in Christian school you got a little mention of condoms. You never actually saw one, no one ever demonstrated how to use one on a banana for instance, and they were definitely NOT distributed in health class. The main idea was, “Abstinence is the Answer”, and everyone from teachers to pastors to parents was 100% on-message. And the teens, well, everyone had to sign on. (Or at least pretend to.)

Over and over again the messages we received were distilled in our hormone-soaked brains down to this one echoing refrain:

“Sex is a terrible, awful, shameful thing you save for the one you love.”

I recall one youth group session in which a cartoon was placed on the overhead projector. It showed a pit dug into the ground with a ladder in it. Each rung of the ladder had a physical act on it. The top rung was holding hands, the next one down was kissing, then making out, petting…you get the idea. The last rung, in the bottom of the pit? Yep. Sex. This kind of illustration was pretty common, and usually came along with a sermon about how “your body is a temple” – followed by a round of fast food and artificially sweetened cola. One of my favorite variations of this youth-group sex scenario was told to me a few years ago by a fellow seminarian. He told me, in all seriousness, that he was teaching his youth group that “Sex is like a wild, vicious, hungry lion, and you DO NOT want to go putting your head anywhere near that lion’s mouth.” (How he got away with using “sex” and “head” in the same sentence in a room full of teenage boys without the place exploding into laughter is beyond me.)

I know that the intentions of my teachers, youth group leaders, pastors and parents were good. I know they were trying to protect us from getting in too deep, too fast. I know they wanted to save us from harm, hurt, and, I suppose, hell. But the reality is, all they did for me was create a space in which to grow shame, guilt and dysfunction. And oh, how it grew! Here’s a short list of the messages I carried away from my abstinence experience:

-Every physical impulse you have towards a boy is wrong–probably even sinful.

-All the natural, normal parts of growing up and falling in love –physicality of any kind—are wrong and unnatural.

-If my body want this, then my body is bad. (This combined with the typical magazine spreads with size 0 models and pimple-free skin, and you can see what that did for a teenage girl’s body image.)

-If you don’t plan for sex, it’s not as bad of a sin. (Therefore, don’t own birth control or condoms.)

In spite of this, there were boys who got lucky and girls who went all the way. There were girls swept off to the Crisis Pregnancy Centers and expelled from school—or worse yet, allowed to stay but banned from all extracurricular activities–like going to the basketball games or walking down the aisle at graduation. (The boys on the other hand, never seemed to get into much trouble. I don’t recall any of them getting kicked out or shamed out of leaving.) And if anyone ever had an abortion, well, they kept it as a dark secret, and went through the experience without any help or counseling.

Because of my experience in abstinence programs– and because of the way my experience was echoed again and again in the shameful tears full-grown women brought to me during my tenure as a pastor –I am not raising my children under the banner of abstinence. Being physical and having sex are natural normal parts of growing up. We are physically and chemically programmed for it. We are culturally conditioned for it. It is a part of our healthy emotional development. I want my children to grow up in an atmosphere that acknowledges this reality—one that is shame free, where their bodies are seen as being ‘fearfully and wonderfully made,” and where their hearts can be trusted to lead them in the right direction. My intention, my deep hope, is to raise them in such a way that they will carry with them these messages:

-Your body is amazing. You can trust it to tell you what you are physically ready to do.

-Your heart is your guide –you can trust the wisdom of your own intuition in making choices.

-Sex is something you move into one step at a time. Each step is good. Each step is appropriate. You– and only you–get to choose when you are ready for that step.

-As a romantic relationship grows deeper emotionally, it’s natural for it to grow deeper physically.

-Planning for sex and being prepared to protect yourself and your partner is smart, responsible, and essential.

-You have the right to say NO. And conversely, you have the right to say YES.

Rather than telling my kids “Sex is a terrible, awful, shameful thing you save for the one you love.” I want the messages I give them to be able to be boiled down to this:

“You are capable of building a relational history you can look back on without regret.”

A friend of mine bequeathed that turn of phrase to me. We were drinking margaritas and talking about sex. (What else do you talk about after you’ve had a couple of margaritas?) She was telling me about her major high school boyfriend, and being in love, and what her parents and his parents thought about them having sex (or not). She said, “I never wanted to have sex in the car. I always wanted to build a sexual history I could look back on without regret, and I didn’t think I could do that if I had sex in the back of his Camero.” That’s pretty self aware, don’t you think? Pretty well-reasoned for a seventeen year old. Build a history you can look back on without regret – or at least, with as little regret as possible. I think, all told, that’s the best we can do. That’s what we humans can hope for: safety, respect, and a collection of memories held without shame.

So when it comes to sex and all its accoutrements here’s my parenting pledge:

-I promise to make talking about sex as natural and open as possible. (We’ve already got quite a track record.)

-I promise to help you access birth control and protection. (Yes, even for the masculine kids in the family.)

-I promise to help you assess what your heart and body is ready for, if you want to talk to me about it.

-I promise to give you accurate information about your body and its needs, to the best of my ability.

-I promise not to shame you for wanting physical contact with someone you care about.

-I promise to do whatever I can to make sex a wonderful, beautiful, joyful thing you give to the one(s) you love.

What will you teach your kids about sex? Any conversational tricks to share? Stories that worked out well? Do tell…

Further posts on this topic:
Follow the Discussion here.
Thoughts from the comment gallery.

Cate was yelling at me. Again.

Every day it’s the same story. I pick Cate up from school and she happily shows me the new trick she can do on the peddle car; the stone she dug up in the sand pit; how many times she can hop the jump rope on one foot. We find Eden and start the ten minute walk home. By minute seven Cate is screaming about something. Anything.

We started with sympathy, then moved on to time outs, and I’m sure at some point there’s been some yelling on my part as well. Clearly Cate was struggling with the transition between school and home. Clearly she was angry. And clearly whatever she was yelling about was not what was really bothering her.

Finally, I sat her down at the kitchen table and got down at eye level. I addressed her very calmly and very seriously, “Cate. This isn’t working. You’re having trouble moving between being at school and being at home. I can see that you are angry, right?”

“Yes! I. AM. ANGRY!” (also crying)

“It’s totally okay to be angry. But screaming at Mommy is not okay, right?”

“RIGHT! OKAY? OKAY? RIGHT! RIGHT! RIGHT!”

“Did you know anger is a cover-up emotion? It covers up some other emotion. Something else is hiding under there.”

“It is?” (now backing down to mere sniffles)

“Yes. And I need you to think about it and tell me what it is that’s hiding under there.”

With that, the floodgates broke open. She missed all the friends she left behind when we moved. She didn’t have any friends at school. And she missed BF Day (her old school.) And some of the kids said mean things. And she doesn’t know Danish yet. And her only friends who speak English live far, far away. And did she mention, she didn’t have any friends at school?

Well, I’d already addressed all of those things. We talked about how making friends was her superpower, but that it took time. I had reminded her that we had only been at the new school for 2 weeks. I had explained that it would take a little longer than usual because we don’t know Danish yet. But, I had assured her, friends would come.

Knowing I’d already said all of this, and having a not unsmall amount of parental wisdom, I did not go into this again. Instead I asked her a question of clarification, “Cate. Do you want Mommy to talk about all these problems with you, or do you just need someplace to put them all.”

“Like what place?”

“Like a shrine.”

“I could make a shrine?”

Sure could. I dove under my desk and came up with three or four odd little boxes and tins. Cate chose a tin that used to hold bandages – Jesus bandages to be exact. After asking for stickers, tape and some scratch paper, Cate went to work. Soon she had a bonafide Shrine for Hard Feelings. It consisted of the bandage tin, a sticker of a sacred heart Jesus, some fortune cookie sized strips of paper cello-taped to the side, and one of those tiny golf pencils. Cate wrote her hard feelings down on the pieces of paper and tucked them into the tin.

“If I put these in here, Jesus will make the sad feelings go away.” she said.

“Well,” I fine tuned, “Jesus might not make them go all the way away, but at least he can hold them for a little while.”

Cate has been faithfully using the Shrine for Hard Feelings for a week now. Sometimes she’ll start ramping up into a yell-fest, but then you can see her sort of visibly pull up, and she’ll say “Wait a minute,” and go find her shrine. I’ll see her scribbling away, then tucking the paper into the tin and snapping it shut. A few minutes later she’ll be back with me, or her sister, or her dad, and the steam will have been vented.

Sometimes I wonder what all my ad hoc spirituality is teaching my children. I’m trying my best — but so did my parents, and my church, and my religious school — and I sure ended up with a bunch of crap mixed in there with the goodies. If I make up random sacraments, if my children spend their lives building Shrines for Hard Feelings and hurling plates at Anger Altars, will they regret it? I am not sure. But this I believe; my attempts, though small and flawed and most assuredly open for misinterpretation, these humble attempts at caring for these precious souls will teach them these true things

Your feelings are real.
Someone loves you enough to help in hard times.
God is big enough to handle your anger.
There is a place for you.

That seems like a good place to start.

Cross-posted at BlogHer with links to other great blogs about children’s spirituality.

The Care & Keeping of You: The Body Book for Girls
Valorie Lee Schaefer

When I bought the kids second-hand American Girl dolls, the Dad of the teen who sold me the dolls said, “I warn you, this doll is a gateway drug.” He couldn’t have been more right, and by Christmas I was drowning in a stack of AG catalogs.

While the girls haven’t become AG users, they are big fans of American Girl’s line of books. In addition to the decently written historical novels, AG also offers a line of great growing-up advice books. This week what with all the flap about Miley Cyrus’ portrait by Annie Lebowitz for Vanity Fair, combined with the great discussion going in the comments on my post Why I’m not teaching Abstinence to my Kids, I thought I’d review a book about growing-up bodies.

American Girl’s The Care & Keeping of You: The Body Book for Girls is an excellent reference guide for a growing girl. Written in a simple, friendly style The Care & Keeping of You gives kids the details they long for in a way that communicates “it’s not gross, it’s your really cool body!” Author Valerie Scharfer covers the obvious concerns—zits, period, and bras (or the lack thereof)—as well as broader concepts about size, mind/body connection, and the way physical changes can effect emotions. Even things a grown up might think of as insignificant, like how to get gum out of your hair, get straight forward solutions,

The publisher says this book is for ages 9-12, and some of the information may be more than younger children want to know. For instance, there’s a pretty detailed cartoon/line-drawing illustration of a girl using a tampon, and girls in the drawings are pictured nude and anatomically correct. My oldest daughter needs a lot of reconnaissance before she moves into a new area, so we got her this book when she was 8 years old and started asking questions about ‘becoming a teenager.’ She had it for about an hour before she came bounding down the stair saying things like, “Mom, did you know you get you period about two years after your breast buds appear?” (No, actually, I did not. That would have been really helpful to know back in the day.) So far, she’s feeling really confident about the changes ahead, and proud of her growing body.

Other good books in this line include The Feelings Book: The Care & Keeping of Your Emotions, which pretty much saved our lives though the drama that was third grade; A Smart Girl’s Guide to Starting Middle School; and A Smart Girl’s Guide to Money. Today’s Flavor: Knowledge is Power.

All purchases made by clicking on a link or image above help support this website. Find more great reads at Magpie Suggests. Thanks you!

Hello friends! I want to thank everyone who commented so thoughtfully on my post “Why I’m Not Teaching My Kids Abstinence.” I’m really please with both the quality and the tone of the dialgoue and I want to thank you all for your input.

I’m working on a follow up post focusing on the ideas you have presented and hope to have it up in the next day or two. I’d love it if y’all could come back and keep this discussion going. I think it’s important for our kids, and perhaps for healing ourselves.

If you want a very brief head’s up when I have new posts online, you can follow me on Twitter. It’s free and painless. Click here to link.

Yours in the Journey,

Rachelle

This is an installment of “This I Believe…”, a series of posts focused around one topic. The first series is on Sexuality and Body Image.

What I Think About Kids & Abstinence

“Don’t you remember at church, when they told us it was better for us to come home in a pine box than to lose our chastity?”

-Sarah Henrickson (18) to her brother Ben (16)
Big Love

I grew up in the church. The conservative evangelical church to be exact. Sundays and Wednesdays were spent at the Lutheran Church, and Monday-Friday at the Assemblies of God private school (chapel three times a week, Bible class every day, choir, and optional 7am prayer meetings.) If you’ve ever seen the fantastic dark-comedy Saved, then you have seen my life. It’s like a hidden camera reality show based on my high school, only with better hair.

Growing up, the message I received was that the absolute worst thing you could do was to have sex outside of marriage. It was worse than getting drunk. Hell, it was worse than DRIVING drunk. Sex, actual intercourse, was totally forbidden. All the other bases were either totally verbotten or pretty damn bad. Oral sex. Very Very Bad. Groping of all kinds. Bad. Making out in your boyfriend’s car. Not great. Kissing. Tolerated –but not on school grounds, of course, or you would be given a two day suspension. Holding hands? Well, okay, but only holding hands; certainly not putting your arms around someone’s shoulder. Anything and everything you might do with someone of the opposite sex was cloaked in shame. Tickling? Shoulder rubs? Boy-girl stunts in cheerleading? It was all highly suspicious. (Do I even have to mention that doing anything with someone of the same sex was completely off the charts? You might as well pick up a ‘go directly to hell’ card.)

We had sex education, once, in fifth grade. It was mostly to make sure everyone was in the know about getting your period. I suppose the boys had a similar filmstrip about unwelcomed erections, but I’m not sure. It was the 80’s and AIDS education was huge, so even in Christian school you got a little mention of condoms. You never actually saw one, no one ever demonstrated how to use one on a banana for instance, and they were definitely NOT distributed in health class. The main idea was, “Abstinence is the Answer”, and everyone from teachers to pastors to parents was 100% on-message. And the teens, well, everyone had to sign on. (Or at least pretend to.)

Over and over again the messages we received were distilled in our hormone-soaked brains down to this one echoing refrain:

“Sex is a terrible, awful, shameful thing you save for the one you love.”

I recall one youth group session in which a cartoon was placed on the overhead projector. It showed a pit dug into the ground with a ladder in it. Each rung of the ladder had a physical act on it. The top rung was holding hands, the next one down was kissing, then making out, petting…you get the idea. The last rung, in the bottom of the pit? Yep. Sex. This kind of illustration was pretty common, and usually came along with a sermon about how “your body is a temple” – followed by a round of fast food and artificially sweetened cola. One of my favorite variations of this youth-group sex scenario was told to me a few years ago by a fellow seminarian. He told me, in all seriousness, that he was teaching his youth group that “Sex is like a wild, vicious, hungry lion, and you DO NOT want to go putting your head anywhere near that lion’s mouth.” (How he got away with using “sex” and “head” in the same sentence in a room full of teenage boys without the place exploding into laughter is beyond me.)

I know that the intentions of my teachers, youth group leaders, pastors and parents were good. I know they were trying to protect us from getting in too deep, too fast. I know they wanted to save us from harm, hurt, and, I suppose, hell. But the reality is, all they did for me was create a space in which to grow shame, guilt and dysfunction. And oh, how it grew! Here’s a short list of the messages I carried away from my abstinence experience:

-Every physical impulse you have towards a boy is wrong–probably even sinful.

-All the natural, normal parts of growing up and falling in love –physicality of any kind—are wrong and unnatural.

-If my body want this, then my body is bad. (This combined with the typical magazine spreads with size 0 models and pimple-free skin, and you can see what that did for a teenage girl’s body image.)

-If you don’t plan for sex, it’s not as bad of a sin. (Therefore, don’t own birth control or condoms.)

In spite of this, there were boys who got lucky and girls who went all the way. There were girls swept off to the Crisis Pregnancy Centers and expelled from school—or worse yet, allowed to stay but banned from all extracurricular activities–like going to the basketball games or walking down the aisle at graduation. (The boys on the other hand, never seemed to get into much trouble. I don’t recall any of them getting kicked out or shamed out of leaving.) And if anyone ever had an abortion, well, they kept it as a dark secret, and went through the experience without any help or counseling.

Because of my experience in abstinence programs– and because of the way my experience was echoed again and again in the shameful tears full-grown women brought to me during my tenure as a pastor –I am not raising my children under the banner of abstinence. Being physical and having sex are natural normal parts of growing up. We are physically and chemically programmed for it. We are culturally conditioned for it. It is a part of our healthy emotional development. I want my children to grow up in an atmosphere that acknowledges this reality—one that is shame free, where their bodies are seen as being ‘fearfully and wonderfully made,” and where their hearts can be trusted to lead them in the right direction. My intention, my deep hope, is to raise them in such a way that they will carry with them these messages:

-Your body is amazing. You can trust it to tell you what you are physically ready to do.

-Your heart is your guide –you can trust the wisdom of your own intuition in making choices.

-Sex is something you move into one step at a time. Each step is good. Each step is appropriate. You– and only you–get to choose when you are ready for that step.

-As a romantic relationship grows deeper emotionally, it’s natural for it to grow deeper physically.

-Planning for sex and being prepared to protect yourself and your partner is smart, responsible, and essential.

-You have the right to say NO. And conversely, you have the right to say YES.

Rather than telling my kids “Sex is a terrible, awful, shameful thing you save for the one you love.” I want the messages I give them to be able to be boiled down to this:

“You are capable of building a relational history you can look back on without regret.”

A friend of mine bequeathed that turn of phrase to me. We were drinking margaritas and talking about sex. (What else do you talk about after you’ve had a couple of margaritas?) She was telling me about her major high school boyfriend, and being in love, and what her parents and his parents thought about them having sex (or not). She said, “I never wanted to have sex in the car. I always wanted to build a sexual history I could look back on without regret, and I didn’t think I could do that if I had sex in the back of his Camero.” That’s pretty self aware, don’t you think? Pretty well-reasoned for a seventeen year old. Build a history you can look back on without regret – or at least, with as little regret as possible. I think, all told, that’s the best we can do. That’s what we humans can hope for: safety, respect, and a collection of memories held without shame.

So when it comes to sex and all its accoutrements here’s my parenting pledge:

-I promise to make talking about sex as natural and open as possible. (We’ve already got quite a track record.)

-I promise to help you access birth control and protection. (Yes, even for the masculine kids in the family.)

-I promise to help you assess what your heart and body is ready for, if you want to talk to me about it.

-I promise to give you accurate information about your body and its needs, to the best of my ability.

-I promise not to shame you for wanting physical contact with someone you care about.

-I promise to do whatever I can to make sex a wonderful, beautiful, joyful thing you give to the one(s) you love.

What will you teach your kids about sex? Any conversational tricks to share? Stories that worked out well? Do tell…

Rachelle Mee-Chapman is a 30-something minister, mother and artist. She is currently living with her husband and 2 school-aged girls in Copenhagen, Denmark; while her teenage boy adopted-by-affection forges his own path back home in Seattle, WA. This piece is available for publication. Contact: moi @ magpie-girl dot com.

Have you noticed that your children leave you at every age and stage? When they stop nursing. When they can crawl into the next room while you are folding laundry. That first bright, merciful day of Kindergarten. The night they’d rather read Harry Potter by themselves than have you read it out loud because they can read it faster. When they hit the age where they can make thier own toast and eat breakfast on their own. …. I thought the leaving thing only knocked the wind out of you when reached the infamous “empty nest” stage. But really, it happens all along the way. I didn’t realize there would be so many passages that leave you breathless, trying to mourn and celebrate in one burning moment.

…….

Leaving Souren has been a little bit like a death. I hate to be so melodramatic, given that there are so many things going on in the world that are ever-so-much harder and more devastating. Leaving your semi-adopted teenager in the States in order to go gallivanting around Europe with your two adorable blood children and a handsome husband—this barely makes a mark on the ‘hardships’ meter. Still, it’s hard, to take a child into your heart and then to say goodbye.

I know, of course, that there is the telephone and internet, and even old fashioned snail mail. But if you’ve ever known, or met, or even grazed shoulders with a teenage boy, you should realize that communication is not, generally speaking, their strong suite.

I knew, when we left, that most communication with Souren would be over. And I’m trying to not put my happiness under his text messaging thumbs. You simply cannot let a teenager take the wheel of your happiness. That’s even more daft than letting them drive your car on prom night.

But at night, when those nasty little buggers come to get me, I am mournful, and I re-think the wisdom of being so nonchalant about grafting a child who is not my own, so firmly onto my family tree. In those dark moments, I write maudlin poetry on the pages of my notebook. (The emotions of my days and nights are so different, sometimes I am left wondering, which is more me?) Though the pain in these overwrought words are real, I have to ask myself, would I hesitate to love this way again…to love this way still? When we are paying attention to the true and the questions, these are the things that come up. These are the ponderings that make up the reality of whom we are and who we are to be. So of course, the answer must always be, ‘amen.’

——

loss is a wolf at the throat,
there, at the front of the neck
where all you cannot swallow
lies exposed and unprotected

the ache and the tear of it,
the way you bleed unchecked

this is what it is
to take another’s child,
graft him deep into your veins.

i cannot recommend it,
this unchecked rushing of the blood
when the graft does not take,
when the bloodline is severed.

even birthing blood ceases with the hours,
after the placenta tears.

but what of that wound
of which nature has no counterpart?
does this blood then run without clot,
without ebbing,
leaving in its wake
more than the womb as hollow?

100 Graces: Mealtime Blessings
Marcia & Jack Kelly

My daughter Cate has always been a pray-er. When she was a toddler she saw “Jesus giving the butterflies food.” She’s never turned back.

We have a family ritual at dinner time of lighting the candles and saying a prayer. This year, for Christmas, Cate got 100 Graces: Mealtime Blessings in her stocking. Now, with the allure of so many choice in such a tiny book, even her sister who is less sold on the whole idea wrangles for a chance to say the dinner time prayer.

100 Graces: Mealtime Blessingsis a simple book:one page, one prayer. It’s ecclectic, multifaith and offers a little something for everyone. Cate’s current favorite:

“Just to be is a blessing. Just to live is holy.” -Abraham Joshu Heschel

and my current preference:

“O God, bless this food we are about to recieve. Give bread to those who hunger; and hunger for justice to us who have bread.” -a prayer from Nicaragua

Today’s Flavor: An easy ‘Amen.’

Any purchase you make by clicking on an image or title above helps support this website. Find more great books, music, and other sparkly things at Magpie Suggests. Thank you!