When Debbie and I were raising our kids, I made it clear that everyone in the family had a role and a job to do. When one of the kids would complain about homework, I’d say, “You’re a student. Studying? That’s your job.” Or if one would complain about doing their Saturday morning chores, I would say, “You’re a contributor to this family’s home. Scrubbing the kitchen floor? That’s your job.” You get the idea.
One night when Renee, my youngest daughter, was 6 years old, I came home very late from work to a bit of pandemonium.
Debbie was upset after a particularly bad day at work.
Emily was on the Internet being harassed from a boy at school on AOL Instant Messenger. He was telling Emily (age 12) that Debbie – a teacher at the school Emily attended - was going to hell because she was a preacher at our church and that the Catholic Church doesn’t really allow this. (But Debbie will write about that at another time.)
Jeanine (age 9) was having a bit of a fit because her favorite pair of jeans weren’t washed and ready for the next day’s school attire.
Renee was ready for bed and clamoring for a bed time story.
I took control. “Renee, go to bed. I promise to be there in ten minutes, and I’ll read you a story.” I mixed Debbie a scotch and soda and guided her to the deck. “I’ll be there in a half an hour, try to relax and sit tight.” I pushed Emily aside from the computer and wrote to the young bully, “If you don’t stop harassing me, I’m going to report you to the school principal.” I pressed “send,” turned to Emily and said, “Don’t answer any more of his messages.” I went to Jeanine’s room and pulled out three pair of pants. “Choose one, honey.” She begrudging chose a pair and set them by her other clothes for the next day. (Sorry that I didn’t have a more favorable solution for you back then, Jeanine.)
Now it was time to tend to Renee. There she was, as calm as ever, hugging one of her many beloved stuffed toys, all snuggled in her covers. I read her a bedtime story. Then I gave her a kiss, looked down at her and said, “What am I going to do with all you girls in my life?” She looked back up at me, and as peacefully and calmly and can be, she said, “Love us and care for us. That’s your job.”
Renee was always wise beyond her years. This six-year-old knew that my role was to love and care for our family. It was as simple as that. (I like to think that Debbie and I had something to do with this as well.)
Of course, the truth is that loving and caring for each other is every person’s job – a fitting message for this time of the year.
Debbie and I wish you a very loving and merry Christmas and thank you for reading our blog!