![Family Traditions Tradition! When I hear that word, I can’t help but picture Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof, arms upstretched, singing passionately about the importance of ritual and family. In my own life, there are a few traditions that might qualify for such grandeur of expression, and they mostly revolve around the holidays: lighting the tree on Christmas morning, the strict Thanksgiving protocol about which family recipe gets served in whose grandmother’s china. Then, there are the day-to-day traditions, the small customs that families embrace and make their own. My older sister calls this “making a memory,” and it simply means paying attention to ordinary events and investing them with meaning.
Posted By Mary Alice Moore[[MORE]]For example, grocery shopping. Yes, you read that right—I am one of those wacky people who loves to grocery shop. I love to cook and plan meals, and therefore I love walking slowly up and down the store aisles, examining produce and discovering new foods. But only when the store is quiet and uncrowded, which means I shop very early on Sunday mornings. Better still, my two younger sons come with me—it’s our thing, and we all look forward to it. We create a list ahead of time, and we pick up coffee and juice along the way. At some point we started a silly game where the person who comes closest to guessing what our customer number will be at the deli counter wins the right to place their drink in the shopping-cart drink holder. Over time, this little game has evolved into a spirited competition, with lots of different strategies (“it’s raining today, so I bet a lot people haven’t shopped yet”) to guide the guessing.
But by far the most important tradition in our family happens at the dinner table. Like most families, we juggle a lot of schedules, which means we manage to eat dinner all together about three nights per week. I pay careful attention to those nights; I work hard to make them calm and pleasant and memorable. We always ask two questions: “What was the best part of your day?” and “What was the hardest part of your day?” I deliberately avoid the term “worst” because it sounds defeatist and not worth dredging up. Saying “hardest” instead of “worst” prompts more discussion, which is always the goal, especially as kids get older. It’s a way to get beyond the frustrating one-word answers: Nothing, Fine, OK, the barely-perceptible shrug.
As often as not, the responses to “best” and “hardest” are unremarkable: “I got to be line leader!” or “There were fish sticks for lunch, ewww!” But frequently they’re more revealing and occasionally even enlightening: the nuances of friendship, teachers who are “unfair,” feeling proud or invisible or vulnerable. Emotions are expressed, conversations unfold, brothers offer perspective and humor and sometimes even sympathy. Importantly, my husband and I participate as well, which offers the opportunity to model some of the advice we give. Acknowledgements such as “I had an important meeting today, and it went really well!” or, conversely, “…and it didn’t go well, so my boss wasn’t happy” help kids see that everyone makes choices, struggles with decisions, and just plain has ups and downs.
Having family traditions is a terrific way to show your kids that they’re part of something special, that they matter. What are your family traditions—the big ones, and more importantly, the small ones you created yourself? What are the traditions that make you dance and sing with your arms over your head?](http://25.media.tumblr.com/5213a4fd6dd0045162c892359ecec741/tumblr_mmqmgyxED91rcctw2o1_500.png)
Family Traditions
Tradition! When I hear that word, I can’t help but picture Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof, arms upstretched, singing passionately about the importance of ritual and family. In my own life, there are a few traditions that might qualify for such grandeur of expression, and they mostly revolve around the holidays: lighting the tree on Christmas morning, the strict Thanksgiving protocol about which family recipe gets served in whose grandmother’s china. Then, there are the day-to-day traditions, the small customs that families embrace and make their own. My older sister calls this “making a memory,” and it simply means paying attention to ordinary events and investing them with meaning.
![Lessons on Parenting: When Less Is More Like a lot of people, I have a story about a teacher who taught me an important life lesson. Only, in my case, it was my son Daniel’s first-grade teacher. She taught me to trust my child. She taught me to trust myself.
Our oldest son James was an early reader. Starting in preschool, he was fascinated with all types of “environmental print”—menus, signs, cereal boxes—constantly sounding out words and sentences. By the time kindergarten rolled around, he was an eager reader. My husband and I were so proud (and, yes, a little smug). Of course our son was an early reader! We read to him all the time; we carried books with us everywhere. We were doing things right.
Posted By Mary Alice Moore[[MORE]]Daniel, who arrived 3 ½ year later, was different from his older brother in nearly every way: where one was cautious and methodical, the other was adventurous and spontaneous. Why should learning to read be any different, you ask? Seems obvious, but it simply didn’t occur to us. We read Daniel just as many books, carried them just as many places. And while he loved books just as much as James, he showed no interest in learning to read by himself. “I want you to read it,” he would say, pushing the book back to me. Fine in preschool. Fine-ish in kindergarten. But by first grade, I began to take it personally.
So, with chipper stubbornness, I started shoe-horning tedious Learning-To-Read lessons into every cozy book moment on the couch or at bedtime. “Let’s sound out this word!” I chirped fiercely. “Look! This word is also in the –at family!” “Why don’t we make a list of sight words?!” We were both miserable. With more than a little irony, I will admit that one of our favorite books in those days was Leo the Late Bloomer, the heartwarming, classic picture book that celebrates doing things in your own time, regardless of what others might be doing.
Finally, at the mid-year parent-teacher conference, Daniel’s teacher told me to butt out. She was much kinder than that, of course, but in her calm, gracious way, she asked me to STOP. “It’s my job to help Daniel learn to read. It’s your job to help him love to read.” She assured me that he had no learning issues and that he simply “wasn’t ready yet.” She acknowledged, gently, that she thought he was possibly being “just a tiny bit stubborn” about the whole thing, but that she wasn’t worried. She asked us to read to him every day. And to just enjoy it.
Of course, it worked. It wasn’t a seamless transition, but once I had “permission” to let go of the urgency and stress, we all relaxed, and we started to enjoy reading again. Today, Daniel is an avid reader, but on his own terms. He’s still “just a tiny bit stubborn” about what he will and won’t read—and about a lot of other things, too. Gee—wonder where he gets that?
We do this to ourselves, as parents. Whether it’s potty training, riding a bike, learning to read, or a host of other childhood milestones, we get caught up in what we think the schedule is “supposed” to be. We forget to look at the individual child, the one standing earnestly right in front of us, and consider what his or her schedule might be. We have to learn to trust our children. We have to learn to trust ourselves. Can you let go of the schedule and follow your child’s lead?](http://25.media.tumblr.com/e972747aa5e196dc4d78160e25290d57/tumblr_mkbmm9t0001rcctw2o1_r6_500.png)
![How have you shed the school lunch straitjacket? “Your boys are so much alike!” People say this to me all the time, and I know they’re talking about the round faces, the blue eyes and all those freckles. In reality, our three sons have very different personalities, and mostly my husband and I are happy to encourage their individual interests and tastes. Mostly. Except in September, when we are buying new clothes for the school year. Except every morning that I make school lunches. If you asked me to draw a Venn diagram of what my kids wear and eat, I’d just draw you three separate circles. And then you’d laugh, and I’d cry.
Photo courtesy of: Stock Free Images
Posted By Mary Alice Moore[[MORE]]My middle child has a sixth sense for cool (and, yes, I believe it’s an inborn trait), which means he has definite opinions about what he wears. So you might think he’d be the hardest one to shop for. But actually, although we argue about the price of the fancy sneakers he loves so much, he knows exactly what he wants—by store, brand and color. No, what’s harder is that my oldest son wants clothing with absolutely no brand markings. Whatsoever. “Plain clothes that don’t attract attention,“ he says, as if that’s helpful. It’s hard enough to find boys’ clothes without sports themes orinsignia, but I challenge you to find Plain Black Sneakers. Did you know that black and gray sneakers could be too flashy? Me, neither. For my youngest, it’s all about how things feel. Tags, seams, invisible itchy things: these are the bane of my existence. Watching him try something on is more nerve wracking than watching the Olympics. I lean forward, full of hope and panic. I try to seem nonchalant. Then, that freckled nose wrinkles slightly, those bony shoulders shrug upward just so, and he utters the words I dread most: “I don’t know….it just feels funny.”
Making school lunches stresses me out more than it probably should, because I am trying to get myself out of the house, too, and usually I’m standing there with wet hair and no makeup, trying to remember who’s white bread and who’s wheat, who likes mustard and who doesn’t eat lettuce. I know what you’re thinking: make the lunches at night when you’re not rushed; or better yet, have the kids make their own lunches. I know. And I should exercise more and eat less.
To each his own. Variety is the spice of life. No two people are exactly alike. I tell myself these things, when I’m wandering desperately around the Boys’ Department, or racing out the door with damp hair and streaked mascara. But sometimes it would be nice if the circles overlapped—just a little bit. What about you? Have you noticed that kids who share an awful lot of DNA don’t seem to share the same taste in much of anything? Do you have any tips or tricks to spare? (Though, clearly, I’m not that good at following advice.)](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m99krsjRjC1rcctw2o1_500.jpg)
