The Anti-Poster Child

Let's face it, I guess I give all good homeschoolers a bad name. I've never taken the time to teach my offspring how to milk a cow or churn butter, how to cut out and sew a dress or pair of pants, how to grow organic produce--heck, they don't even know how to play the piano. The fact is, it has been all I could do to teach three kids to read and write--why do you think it took so long for Peyton to learn to tie her shoes? I've contemplated the work I've done with my kids as I've read several "brag and gag" letters that were sent to us along with Christmas cards (no offense if anybody reading this blog actually sent one of those letters--my friend Lori introduced me to the term and you have to admit, it really is appropriate!), and I suppose some might say that when compared to my methods of, say, five or six years ago, I have put aside my overachieving ways!

Back when Tyler was my only student, I am ashamed to admit that I expected way too much from him. His first year of school was not spent constructing papier-mache animal masks or making castles out of Play-doh; he was studying ancient Egyptian history and learning the difference between similes and metaphors--in Kindergarten! Perhaps that's why I have subconsciously tried to let Sawyer be a kid as long as possible, and really haven't tried to structure his time in any way whatsoever. If he wants to read (or be read to), I can make that happen. If he wants to spend the day in frivolity, I can make that happen too. Childhood is so fleeting, you know? Sure, I want him to have a leg up when it's his turn to start Kindergarten by being able to read and write, but there are just a whole lot of other things that I'm realizing a lot of four-year-olds usually do for themselves that I'm only beginning to expect Sawyer to accomplish on his own, which leads me to the subject of this entry.

Over the last couple of weeks I've been contemplating the difficulty of letting go. My kids are self-sufficient in the things that matter, and don't "need" me much anymore (except for little things like opening jars, providing fresh batteries for their unending supply of electronic devices, or finding misplaced stuffed animals or library books). Sawyer, on the other hand, has always enjoyed needing me. You all know this if you know Sawyer. He has always liked for Mommy to do lots of things for him. And you know what? For the most part, I have never minded.

One couple's Christmas letter proudly proclaimed that their child could dress himself; yes, Sawyer can do that too, but I honestly only realized that very recently. Want to know why? Because that was one of my favorite parts of the day with Sawyer: the whole waking up in the morning routine. Sawyer used to call for me when he would wake up, and then he would hide in his bed while I would pretend to come in and stalk him like a tiger hunting his prey. After I had pounced on him and tickled him for a while, we would have our first conversation of the day while I picked out his clothes and then helped him into them. I love that face-to-face contact, and somehow it doesn't seem quite the same when I just sit on his bed watching him pull his shirt on over his head and wriggle into his pants.

I almost never make breakfast or lunch for my older three anymore--they simply decide what they want and take it from there. But I still enjoy making Sawyer's meals (when I can convince him to eat) because I enjoy watching him dance around the kitchen, singing his little songs and always making me laugh. He is, as are the others, "the light of my life and the joy of my heart."

But since making the move to Texas, there was one area where I soon realized I would have to insist that Sawyer be more independent, and you'll just have to bear with me here: I'm talking about THE POTTY. It feels like Sawyer has been potty-trained forever, and yet until only recently, he was still coming to me on a daily basis with the newsflash that he needed to "do his business," and not only that, but he requested my presence in the bathroom. And guess what? I had been humoring him. Why shouldn't I? He's my BABY, after all, and he needs me! But even I was starting to recognize the need to break him of his habit of needing my company in the bathroom, and since we were in the middle of so many other transitions, now seemed like as good a time as any to train him to be just a smidge more independent in that department.

Believe it or not, it hasn't been difficult at all, but we're taking baby steps. He still can't resist coming to tell me that he's going to the bathroom--okay, kid, after two years the novelty has pretty much worn off!--but at least I don't have to stand there and carry on a conversation with him during his "private time" anymore! So the next step is convincing him that I don't HAVE to know every time he's going to relieve himself. Last night is a prime example: While he typically goes all night without having to get up, every once in a blue moon he'll wake up and need to go. So last night I was awakened by a little voice saying, "I need to go pee." Never mind that he came all the way downstairs when he actually had to pass through the upstairs bathroom on his way to my room; forget, too, that he ignored the toilet on the other side of my bathroom door and proceeded instead to the guest bathroom off of the kitchen--he just wanted to make sure I didn't feel left out, I guess. And deep down, I hope he feels that way for a long time to come.