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Your Grass Looks Greener: Stay at Home Moms vs Working Moms
Two Moms, Two Letters, Two Countries Dear Missionary Mom, I see you down here, with your hair pulled up and your patience falling down. Doin’ that missionary thing can drain, I know. It all looked so quaint from a distance, didn’t it? Needy people, corner sweet bread shops, hammocks in palms. Did you move for the life the promo video promised? I’m glad I’ve been your neighbor. Living in Baja has felt attractive, mostly. It’s been a place where those old roots I planted could get some fresh air and be replanted. Our kids probably won’t be graduating with yours though. We’re all scattered around and therefore…
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8 Things I’m Teaching My American Pre-Adults in Mexico
Don’t Wear Red to a Chinese Funeral In some cultures it’s downright rude to wear certain clothes to certain events. Even if they never end up at a Chinese funeral (where they should only wear white or black), there are some things my American kids need to learn about clothing. Please don’t wear a fancy white dress to a wedding. (Unless you’re the bride.) … or a baseball hat to church. … or Crocs to a party. Or ever. (Unless you’re a nurse or you’re creek walking.) … or a tube top to a business luncheon. … or a mini skirt after a certain age. (ahem—39?) If you feel you must break this…
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Dear Stay-At-Home Mom: I Figured Out Your Problem
My face told him my approximate age. The awkward wedding reception silence told him to ask. I knew what was coming; the same thing that always came after the “nice to meet you” part. “Do you work?” It’s not a question I get down here in Baja; the majority of women stay home and take care of the kids, cook, etc. But when I lived in the States—a perfectly normal question. I wanted to launch. I wanted to redefine his inquiry, spell it out, wrap it up and hand it back. You mean like for money? No, last time I checked there’s no salary for washing, changing, feeding,…
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An Open Letter to My Kids – I Fired the Housekeeper
Dear Kiddos, It was your dad’s idea. He felt like I needed a helper because we started a ministry to college freshmen. For nine months at a time. In Mexico. You didn’t know this when you cuties were up thrice a night, attempting tricks on rusty bars, absorbing a second language, taking in avocados, trying to find a friend, and learning to walk, but those students in our ministry required hours and hours of our time. And so did you. In our younger years your dad repeatedly joked about moving to Mexico, always ending it with the promise of a housekeeper. Didn’t sound like much of a deal to me; I…
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She Just Knew
We stood in the back of the rustic church and rocked our boys like footballs. My only goal was to gently bounce mine into sleep. I was focused on us. I had noticed her before but we were quite different and not drawn to one another. Coming from an indigenous Mexican background she was awkwardly shy, avoiding eye contact and touch. We sang songs in her language and swayed to the rhythm while flags were waved and the audience clapped off beat. I was distracted by everything. My limited Spanish skills kept me from getting to know anyone past the typical greetings. People stared and seemed curious about new white people in…
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Why The 14-Year-Old Is Driving
Besides short children running out in front of my car, picking up our youngest at 3:02 is usually a mellow event. The kids lug backpacks large enough to climb into, are mostly all in a hurry, and not too concerned about motorized vehicles. When local police show up, two men packin’ heat and one cone can do wonders for the chaos. No need to be fluent in Spanish to follow along; the flat hand held in your direction is a universal symbol. Stop or else. On this particular day my 12-year-old accompanied me. The bell rang, we greeted the only gringo (ours), and pulled between a sea of dark hair,…
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Easter Fail
I knew he was familiar with the Easter story, but I had never heard our seven-year-old try to re-tell it on his own. We only read the full account of Jesus’ death and resurrection once a year; I expected him to get a couple details wrong. Pride welled when he began. Then perfectionism kicked in and disappointment welled when he continued. Not disappointment in my boy—in me and my parenting skills. We use a visual aid called Resurrection Eggs and the carton contains a dozen plastic eggs, each one containing an object to help convey the meaning of Easter. For example, in the orange egg you’ll find praying hands, and the…
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No Language, No Voice: Going to School in Another Country All Alone
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” ~ Deuteronomy 31:6 I led my firstborn to the concrete classroom with the green metal door and faked a bit of confidence. Micah did not want to go in just as much as I did not want to leave, so we stood there squeezing hands and scanning the crowd. Dozens of brown eyes stared like they’d never seen white people. It was March—not the best time to enter a new school. Especially in another country. We had only lived in town…
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Start Peeling Away: How to Not Helicopter Parent & What to do Instead ~ Part 2
Welcome to part two! Last week I shared the top five things I stopped doing that helped me step down and saved me minutes. Today I’m sharing the top five things I started doing that helped our kids step up, and taught me big lessons. Of course this is not an exhaustive list, and if you have done other things that have helped your kiddos step up, please share! *Disclaimer: Yes—just like last week, I still struggle with every one of these. Slow progress is better than no progress, right? 1. I started letting them go out without a coat. “Don’t forget your coat!” This innocent parental advice is all…
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Stop Hulling Their Strawberries: 5 Things I Did to Not be a Helicopter Parent ~ Part 1
Stepping aside as a parent might sound downright delightful to some. But if the idea of moving over makes you dig your heels into the tile, read on. When my eyes first read the term “Helicopter Mom,” I felt pretty good about the fact I wasn’t one. At least not in general. But the more I examined my mother heart (sprinkled with a bit-o-pride), the more I realized I had tendencies. Working on the following list has been eye-opening. I want to gradually loosen the reigns now so I don’t accidentally pack my kids’ bags for them when they leave for college. I hope it helps you stop any possible swirling blades, too.…
