Today we had a bit of a conflict. A strange but not-serious virus swept through our family last week. Susan had it first, and recovered just as I was about to make a doctor’s appointment. Sally and Dick were sick next. It was a 72-hour bout of low fever (101.5), chills, and aches. Spot got sick at Busch Gardens last night; I had thought that she and I were going to escape being ill thanks to breastfeeding (incidentally, will 1/3 of an adult tablet of Motrin hurt an 8-month-old? I hope not). Dick came home from his early meetings to take Sally and Susan to church.
He was supposed to bring Susan home after Sacrament Mtg (worship service) and trade with me so I could teach the women’s Sunday School class. Susan would have stayed at church if there were a nursery taught by someone other than me/Dick. Somehow, Sally ended up coming home with dad too. Hmmmm. Aside from all other considerations, I feel very critical of parents who give up on bringing their teenage children to church; parents who express something like “she’s going to be 18 soon, I have to let her live her own life.” Of course it will be her life soon. In fact, if we take 8 as the age of accountability, I could say that Sally is almost 8, and so she should start making these decisions for herself.
That’s not how I feel, though. It’s not how I felt when I was 19, and my parents intervened in my life. My dad always said that we could make our own decisions, as long as they were the right decisions. And that’s how I feel about my kids.
Back at home this morning, Sally started crying when mean mom said she needed to go back to church. She even ran into her bedroom and tried to lock the door. I told Dick to go get her and carry her to the car if necessary. Dick demurred, so I did it. I talked to her about singing to dad with the other kids for Father’s Day, and about her friends in primary. By the time we were halfway there, the tears were gone, and we worked out a compromise. I said that because of the unusual situation, she could come with me and listen to my lesson. (I’m not completely unfeeling). She was well-behaved and got to hear me expound all my knowledge on integrity (notice I said “knowledge” not “practice”).
Here’s the thing. I know I have many, many faults. And Dick’s soft heart is one of the things I love best about him. But if I know how important it is for me to have a weekly accounting of my progress (or lack of progress) and an infusion of inspiration to try a little harder for one more week, and if I know that one of the few good practices I have that I have never omitted (except for a couple months when I was 19, see above) is always, always going to church, then how can I do less than somehow help Sally to know that it is just what we do. It’s Sunday: we’re going to church.
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Amen, Shannon. I love it.
I once heard about a general authority (McConkie?) keeping his kids home from seminary because he wanted to teach them the gospel himself. Has anyone else heard this? Maybe I dreamed it up. But the idea is that parents can in fact teach kids gospel truths even outside of church buildings.
so, Tom also wanted me to admit (to him) that i am often late to church, which i agree is bad, and something i need to work on.
but the other point he made (to me), that i often let Avery skip school (which wasn’t true this past year, but was true the year before that for pre-k) is not relevant at all, i think. i could homeschool quite legitimately, but i am not for home-churching.
Aaron & I were just discussing this yesterday too. Sometimes it seems pointless to be there when you just have to roam the halls with little kids – but we agreed it is important for all of us to be there. We want our kids growing up knowing that we will all attend 3 hours of church together every week. Tom, no such thing as home-churching. And I really doubt the validity of that seminary story you heard. I need to be teaching my kids at home as often as I can – and then they can take in primary on top of that.
Oh, Shannon, I’ve missed you! In your writing I can hear that same voice that used to make me want to stay up all night having exhausting discussions about topics that I never would have thought of if it weren’t for you (like circular logic and layers of personal happiness) fueled by the boundless energy and passion of the fifteen year olds that we were. Or maybe it was the Mountain Dew.
I have a couple comments on good cop/bad cop article.
1. Admitting you are sometimes late for church? I understood being 20 minutes late to be a deliberate coping strategy as described in your Christmas card. I have been using this strategy to get through numerous events, meetings, and Disney movies. Now am I to understand you were kidding?
2. A medication question embedded in the blog brings out the sleeping giant of a pharmacist in me. (You should see all my interventions in the cough and cold aisle at Walmart, I just can’t help myself). The correct dose of ibuprofen for a 8 month old is 5-10 mg/kg every 6 to 8 hours. So if Lucy weighs, say, 22 lbs (10 kg) (just guessing), then the dose would be 50 to 100 mg or 1/4 to 1/2 half of a 200 mg adult ibuprofen tablet. The dosage form (tablet vs. suspension) is irrelevent as long as it gets swallowed.
As you can see, I still overuse parenthetical statements. Also, I feel very self-conscious writing to a writer. Like my brother told me, I “sure don’t talk smart for a smart girl”. I think he meant it as a compliment. Anyway, I miss you, and I feel like I found you again here. I don’t know why I didn’t visit your blog earlier.
Andrea,
i have missed you! I was confiding in a friend the other day, and I thought of you — you were a wonderful confidante when we were young (now that I am so old). I remember telling you things that I couldn’t otherwise share, and after I had expressed myself to you, I was able to be more honest with myself and others. Thanks!
Funny on the parenthetical statements. I usually go back over my first drafts and have to take out at least 10 parens (i think that’s the plural). I also overuse semicolons; I love semicolons, and dashes. I’m trying to branch out into the occasional colon. Right now I’m also resisting the temptation to start using the construction “I love me some ..” or “I love me my …”
I’m so glad you visited. I feel quite evangelical about blogging. Everyone should have a blog of her own. I’d love to read yours. Sometimes I feel like Emily Dickinson: not the genius part, but the sending my letters to the world while stuck at home part.
on your points:
1. I wouldn’t say “kidding;” it was more like “confessing” or “reverse bragging” or something. You don’t really expect me to admit in public that I am often 20 (or more) minutes late to church deliberately, do you? It usually just happens, and then the fact that it makes time go by so much faster is just a really nice (but guilt-inducing) benefit. i do need to stop doing it (i mean “letting it happen”) because the other day when we were on time, Avery said to me, “Church sure is better when we’re really late, isn’t it?” Life was much easier before my kids were watching my every move.
2. it’s good to get a definitive answer on this. Lucy seemed fine (well, she looked at me like “are you crazy?” when I made her suck on the broken tablet as she nursed that day). I was pretty disappointed that BG didn’t sell children’s ibuprofen (what? you think her mom should have brought some medicine just in case? what?)
I hope to hear from you more, and to see you in Utah when we come visit shortly!