Adult Peer Pressure

My kids used to be enrolled in a part-time preschool at a church I attended when I was a youth. It had a main entrance, but also a back entrance along a gravel road that I was privy to, thanks to my "local" knowledge. So when we started going there, I would take the road to beat traffic...plus, you know, it's cool to know stuff other people don't. But when I kept meeting oncoming cars on my way in, I quickly realized that this gravel was an exit-only path, because it is only wide enough for one vehicle.

Not wanting to be the weird one, I soon adjusted my behavior, taking the main entrance on the way in, and the gravel road on the way out. And then whenever another unknowing parent would make my earlier mistake, I would silently scoff in my head: Newbie...

First day of school. Also, a sweet cover picture for our future family folk band, right?

The whole thing is kind of funny, isn't it? I read years ago that peer pressure is possibly the most powerful motivator to change human behavior, and ultimately the culture of an organization. My fear of being the weird guy who doesn't know the unspoken rules of the parking situation so gripped me that I changed my behavior immediately, with little thought to whether or not the rules of the road were legitimate. 

This was really my first time encountering this peer pressure as a parent, which leads me to ask what my future holds. I'm sure PTAs and HOAs will soon dictate to some degree what I do and how my family and house are presented. Right now I'm already kind of the weird one, being the stay-at-home dad and homemaker, and I feel pretty comfortable there; but how long will that last and how far will that go?

I think we're called to be different, and so we need to have some degree of comfortability in the midst of those differences. Of course following the rules of the parking lot don't have any big consequences, and really should be followed for the safety of everyone else. But when these ideas are sparked by small things, I like to consider how my actions now will be weighed later, when the stakes may be higher.

Just something to consider.

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Digging Holes

We were at the beach the other day and the kids were playing in the sand. It was a beautiful day -- the kind California is famous for -- clear blue sky, cool sea breeze, the ocean clean and crisp. I kept an eye on the girls as I watched surfers try and catch the tiny 2-3-foot waves, vying for corners that crumbled before peeling into a crash.

Eventually, Waverly walked up to me and asked, "Dad, how do I dig a hole?"

I'm not sure why she asked (she knows how to dig a hole), but without thinking, I replied, "Pick one spot and start digging. Stay in one spot though." Suddenly, it hit me that my emphasis on digging in only one spot was more profound than I intended.

This ledge provided hours of entertainment.

My thought process was this: If my child is working on something, I want her to focus on it and do well; and the way to do that was to pick one thing and give it her all. Starting a dozen holes wouldn't be as good as one or two really good, deep holes; and so that was my advice. Now I've expressed on this blog before my struggle with focusing on one thing, particularly when it comes to career aspirations. I love to do too many things that could be jobs: writing, music, camerawork, the movie business, the surfing and skateboarding industries -- they could all turn into jobs, but a widespread net has really kept me from getting very far in any one category. That's one reason I was drawn to the film industry: making movies involves so many things I love to do, that it felt like I could do them all and still have a job. Not so easy.

There are natural pitfalls to this type of thinking. I'm pretty good at a lot of things, but not exceptional at anything. So when it comes time to hire someone, wouldn't you want the guy who can do what you need well, not the guy who can do a lot of things just okay? And so I float by like a disconnected seaweed, catching little currents here and there but never finding a place to stay rooted.

This hit me so hard because it's been a years-long struggle for me, but when it came to my daughter asking for advice, my initial reaction was to steer her away from the thing that I've latched onto. I love that I love to do so many things. It's just been difficult. But if she can choose to do one thing well, how much easier will her life be? And so if I can guide her in that direction, I will. It just surprised me how quickly it came out.

Lessons in the sand.

As we continued to play, a couple other tips for digging a good hole came up. After picking one place to dig, I noticed they were using rocks as tools. A few minutes later, I found a nice little piece of driftwood that made a way better shovel. So principle number two is choose the right tool. 

After that I started digging my own hole, and naturally gravitated towards starting where there was a footprint, because the groundbreaking was already done -- I had a head start on my dig. That's principle number three: Utilize the space someone else left for you. There were folks ahead of you and me that paved the way for what we wanted to do. Teachers taught us things others had already discovered. Mentors guided us. Inventors found tools that helped make our paths easier. To ignore all of these advantages would be foolish, so don't.

It's always struck me how often these little daily interactions with the kids would teach me profound lessons. Now the true test is if I can listen to my own advice...

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I Left My Phone at Home

Today my phone died in the middle of a phone call -- I forgot to plug it in last night. I'm not too married to my phone, but it does go pretty much everywhere with me, as most people can relate to. Well, not too much later, adventure called and I didn't want to let my barely-charged phone to keep me from going to a new park with the girls. And so I decided to...gulp...leave it at home.

There are practical reasons for keeping your phone around of course. What if there is an emergency? What if we break down? What if someone else has an emergency and needs to get a hold of me? But you know, society has managed for far, far longer without cell phones than with, so I figured I'd manage.

Driving up the hill to a park that a mom had recommended to me was about as harrowing as a midday adventure gets for our clan (I'm a little sad to write). The views were amazing though, and the park at the top was awesome. It was nestled in the side of a little slope, all on top of a large hill that overlooked the city. The playground was aged, but all over sand, which is always a bonus for me, keeping the kids that much safer when they fall.

I was struck by how quiet it was on top of the hill, except for the roar of the city below. It's funny how a freeway can make the same sound as a rushing river, but it really did and was just as consistent. White noise aside, we had a great time at this place. My first phone inclination, actually, was to take pictures of how cool this park was. My next one was to text a picture to my friend Chris, because we had shot a music video in the same area a couple months prior and I thought this might be a better place, should we shoot again.

Here's one from someone who didn't neglect her phone.

Eventually, I started getting bored, but then I tried to make things interesting, taking control of the play. The girls appreciated it and we made sand pizzas for a while, but then I got bored again (the mature dad I am), and so we went on a "nature walk." In the city, this can mean multiple things, likely paling in comparison to what a true nature walk might entail. This one, however, was pretty cool. On our left was a blue-tinted mountain range. Beyond that, northeast, were snow-capped mountains. Follow the horizon to your right and you run into downtown LA and Dodger Stadium; close enough that I wondered if I could have watched the World Series from here for free. After that is more city, and on a clear day, the ocean.

Despite the view, I wanted to go home because I had to pee, and I was getting tired and hungry. Those are all things my kids are supposed to complain about while I try to take them places, but today they were the ones urging me on. "We didn't finish our walk, Dad!" Ellie said, and so we pressed on, finding a bench that had a more panoramic view. It was just next to a tree that housed the most hummingbirds I had ever seen. Growing up, these birds were rare. In Southern California, they are certainly more plentiful, but I always feel lucky when I see one. Seeing half-a-dozen was spectacular, especially when they perched. Known for being so quick and flighty, I think I've only seen a still hummingbird once or twice in my life. That day I saw it twice -- what a place! But also, another lost photo opportunity...

I've been back a couple times since this first trip.

We walked down the path and up a steep hill that, again, I didn't want to traverse, but the kids plowed the way and made it up with little problem. We found a bathroom past a rare green field, just after a little bouldering and some walking-stick finding. Afterwards, we found another playground (there were three at this park alone, and two more down the hill), and so we continued to adventure. All in all, this place is a winner and has certainly earned a return visit.

As for the phone, I didn't really miss it too much, aside from wanting to take lots of pictures. I'm torn on that -- I always tell my wife that digital media is cheap, and having all these pictures isn't like having dozens of physical photo albums on our shelves. However, my hard drives keep filling, so I'm wondering if I'm taking too many... My grandfather told me once that the best vacation he ever took was the one where he forgot his camera. The pressure of taking the right picture was gone, and he was suddenly free to enjoy each moment for what it was. Today I think I got a glimpse into that world, and though I do wish I had some pictures of the kids and the view to share with my loved ones who don't live here, or my wife who was working, I can't really say it was a bad thing to do. Maybe consider it for your next outing, Reader. Who knows...it could be the best trip you've ever taken!

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Relationally Lazy

I find myself criticizing parents who are distracted by their phones too much. It's easy for me to do, because I've never really put much stock in smart phones; and though I have one, it's a Windows Phone, so it's only a half-step up from a flip phone (which some of my friends still use). Type of technology aside, surely you've noticed the dad whose kids are hanging on his legs at the park, begging for attention while his face is buried in a cell phone. Or perhaps you've noticed the family at the restaurant, where everyone silently stares at devices until the food arrives? I find myself acutely aware of those folks, for better or worse, and think it's a real problem with our current society.

But as every critic must do, I turn the magnifying glass back on myself as much as I am aware enough to, and lately I have seen the distractions in my own life, particularly in pertaining to how I parent our kids. In doing so, and with more observation and consideration, I think I have found an even greater culprit to our distraction; maybe even the root cause of it all -- laziness. I think we are relationally lazy, and it's tearing apart society in subtle ways.

Here is an example I face almost daily: I'm home with the kids and they are playing together nicely. I relish in these moments, because then I get to work on something creative, or maybe even just do the dishes -- either way, it feels fulfilling. But eventually the kids get bored, and I need to engage with them. Typically this ends up with us at a park, but which one? The park with all the kids where they will find a friend to play with and I can sit quietly and read? Or maybe the one that they love with the zip line (a real place), which will require me to work more in pushing them back and forth on it? Then there's always that one that they both enjoy, but is pretty spread out, which makes it difficult to keep an eye on both of them as they choose opposite sides of the park to play in. Of course all of this is overshadowed by the thought that I would be asked over and over again to "be the dragon that eats princesses" and chase them around the park, up and down slides, under walk ways and across monkey bars. It all boils down to how much work am I willing to do to accommodate and/or engage with my children, a.k.a. - How lazy am I feeling right now?

I don't always act like it, but it is such a blessing to play with these two girls every day.

Cut yourself some slack, Rick, parenting is hard. Make your life as easy as you can, you may be thinking. Sure, there are times for that -- life is widely about balance. But I have to examine the frequency of my decisions, and in doing so, I'm finding that more often than not I choose the easiest (laziest) option.

Let's take this further: Imagine you are home with your wife and the kids are in bed. Which is easier: to turn on the TV and watch Netflix, or sit and talk? Which is better for your marriage? Again, sometimes it is nice to turn off your brain together and watch a crappy Christmas movie, but you can't do that all the time (certainly not two months after Christmas...or can you?).

I'll go one more step: You have about two minutes to yourself, waiting for Netflix to load or for the kids to put on their shoes before you go outside. Do you sit quietly and think, listen, clear your mind, pray? Or do you pull out your phone and check Instagram? Oh, how God could speak in these quick and subtle moments that we so freely give away! Much (or all of it) boils down, I think, to laziness.

It takes work to engage with your kids, your wife, nature, God. And we live in a world where comfort is king and work is mostly praised only when it makes you money. It's no wonder kids are so full of anxiety and marriages are falling apart. We don't put in the time to make these relationships healthy!

So after considering these thoughts the past few days, when I was faced with a decision of what to do with the kids today, I chose to take them to the zoo (we recently became members). It was a lot of walking (with an injured toe, I might add), I had to take a picnic lunch (as opposed to eating at home, which is easier), and took way more time than a normal park visit. But as we were playing in some lovely yellow leaves by a climbable sculpture of a camel, twice Ellie ran up to me and gave me a hug, totally unprompted. Though she is very affectionate, I knew it was because we had been playing together a lot the past hour or so -- as I had chosen to intentionally engage with them during this zoo visit -- and that this was a hug of appreciation and love. And I have to say, even if those hugs are the only reward I get for investing in my kids those few hours, it was well worth the cost.

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Known

I'm drawn to the idea of well-knowing. When I surf with the Wavestorm, I catch a lot of waves and ride them for a while, mostly because I know that board so well. My Father-in-law has been living in Pennsylvania almost his entire life, and knows its streets and cities so well, he practically has a history lesson stored up around every corner. I love studying music, its theory and history, and am proud to know a lot about a band I love or how to play a song without thinking about it. But one of the topics I most enjoy knowing well, is my kids.

When I became a stay-at-home dad for Ellie just a few months into her life, I didn't realize how much there was to know about an infant. But after seeing her through her first year, I was struck by what I understood about her, how well I could navigate her voices and sounds, and how I was able to anticipate and interpret her needs. To this day I am proud of how well I know my kids, and one of the best indicators of that I think, is interpretation.

Both of my kids called bananas, "meenas," for years. It's wrong, but cute.

Kids don't make sense much of the time, particularly to the untrained ear. But how often have you been in a group and your child says something that sounds foreign to a friend, but you completely understand? "She's saying she needs to go potty," you inform with a tinge of pride in your voice, before strutting away to meet the need, feeling like a super parent as you save the day in a way no one else could. It feels good to know our kids, and is something we should strive for. (I'll throw in right here that we are also called to be students of our spouses, and should work towards a similar intimacy in knowing; but that's another blog post...)

My friend Taylor made this video about a couple of guys without kids trying to interpret what different children are saying. It's pretty funny, and kind of sparked this whole idea:

Something both of my kids said that only Katie and I were able to interpret at first was the word "water." Ellie would say, "Wa-la-la-la-la-la-laaaa?" And the longer she held out the last "la" was how thirsty she was. Waverly, on the other hand, pronounced water like a line from one of my favorite punk band's songs: "Woah-woah-woah." Both lines are kind of silly, but I was proud every time a stranger would reply in question at their remark, and I could simply say, "She needs water."

And so I encourage you, Reader, to test yourselves -- how well do you know your kids? Are there any things they do or say that only you and your spouse understand? If so, comment below on what they are. As silly as mispronounced words can be, knowing and investing in our children is one of the greatest things we can do in this life; and so it is always a worthwhile endeavor to listen and to understand these little confusing gifts from God.

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