Awkward Dugger Conversations

My kids are big fans of the Duggars, and I’ve been proud of it. They are drawn to watching different kinds families on TV and I think the Duggars’ conservative values are a great contrast to some of the Disney shows they choose to watch.  I was hoping that the mix of conservative and  liberal media would help them end up somewhere in the middle – like me.  It’s also a good opportunity to discuss the choices different families make about their values.  I figure the more purposeful we are with these discussions, the better.  So we’ve followed them on TV –mostly us girls.  (Eli’s not usually thrilled with all the recent wedding and baby excitement. But we suffered through Star Wars, he can suffer through the Duggars)  

When the story of sexual abuse broke a few days ago, I was sad. I’m not sure the way they are choosing to handle the issue is perfect, but I’m going to try not to judge.  Unless charges are filed, it’s a private family issue.  They don’t, and probably shouldn’t share all the details with us – the voyeurs into their lives.  But even sadder for them, I was sad that I was going to have another big conversation with the kids that I wasn’t ready for (side note: Parents of babies and toddlers, even though I don’t envy your sleep schedule, I envy your conversations). I’m a believer in being the first to have these gross conversations with the kids.  I was raised in a time and family where my teachers and friends told me everything I needed to know about sex.  Even though I have little experience with “the talk”, and it was deeply uncomfortable for me, Kumar and I wanted to be the first to tell them about sex.  We want to have open conversations with them about their bodies, its changes and what is appropriate for their ages. 

In the case of the Duggars, I knew there was a good chance that they’d hear information at school or with a glance at a magazine or a snippet of the news, so I figured I’d better sit them down and tell them what I know/believe first. 

This morning, I did it alone (cause Kumar is traveling)– I called them to the table and told them that the show was cancelled and what happened.  They were freaked out when I called them to the table – they thought I was going to deliver worse news than a cancelled TV show. 

However, it was a good time to reiterate that no one can touch his or her private parts.  We have a reasonably tight play date and sleepover policy, but things can happen anywhere at anytime.   And if it does, they need to get out of the situation. I told them that if it something “weird” happened on a Pathfinder campout or at camp or even at a relative’s house – they need to get up, tell an adult and call us immediately. 

Maybe the next Camporee should be in Disneyworld?

“I will pick you up anywhere and get you out of there.”

“Even in Florida? ”  - Wilo said.  (Clearly, her imagination of Pathfinder campouts is more exciting than reality)

“Even in Florida.” I said. 

“I will fly where ever you are and get you and keep you safe."  (I loved saying that. It made me feel like a superhero, which I want to be for my kids). 

I also said, “If you do something bad, something that might make you feel bad, you can also tell us.  We’ll get you out of the situation, get you the help you need, and we’ll help make it right.  People make mistakes, especially when they are teenagers and their hormones are influencing them.  We’ll love you anyway and help you deal with it.”   

A conversation dreaded by openly prudish Rej, ended up being a great, honest conversation that I feel proud of.  I’m sharing it with you now, so you can see that even introverts with very little experience with “the sex talk” can do a pretty good job.  Please don’t assume teachers and doctors are the right people to talk with your little ones.  Take a deep breath, and be the parent your child needs and deserves, even when it’s awkward.

Pretty

I’ve always been pretty.  My parents told me that as a baby, I was super cute, chubby, just the right shade of brown, with a big smile.  Everybody loved me.  In elementary school and middle school, there were some awkward years, especially as a child of immigrant Indian parents, but once I could choose my own clothes and hairstyle, I was pretty.

I spent time on makeup and just the right outfit and it was fun.  I tried to be cool and  kind, but as an introvert who sometimes hides in the kitchen during large gatherings, I knew I could always fall back on being pretty. 

Pretty gets you places – I don’t think it will come as a surprise to any of you that I’ve been judged everywhere, by prospective employers at job interviews, by policemen who were about to write a large ticket, even by disruptive students in my speech classroom.  Most times I come out on top, partially because I was pretty. Sometimes a smile and how you present myself can get you out of difficult situations.  I usually take it as a compliment. Naturally pleasant features + a little exercise and lots of time shopping and prepping = PRETTY. 

But now I’m 40 – sure things don’t change overnight, but my outward pretty is starting to fade.  I’m considering wrinkle creams and what to wear to not look like my tween aged daughter and I’m wondering will I still be pretty at 50? I want to be one of those gorgeous old ladies with silver hair and an amazing sense of style, but the older we get, the more time it takes.  Is that how I want to spend my time, money and energy?

 

I could spend $65 on wrinkle cream or $65 buying lunch for the month for the kid who sat next to Eli and was hungry every day at lunchtime.

I could spend an hour on the internet looking for clothing ideas to fit my shape or an hour in solitude listening to God telling me how he can clothe my soul with peace.

I could spend my morning run listening to NPR podcasts that make me smarter and more current, or I can listen to sermons that encourage me to be kinder and more loving.

I could spend my energy planning a ladies shopping weekend at the outlets (one of my favourite pastimes), or I can spend that energy planning a ladies weekend to encourage each other and really share our problems with each other. 

It was easy to be pretty at 16. Some may say it’s a biological rite of womanhood, but with each passing year, it’s getting harder and harder. I have less free time in my day and less time left on this earth. I’m not sure if I want to spend it all trying to keep up being pretty.  I’m still me. I’m not going to let myself go – I’ll probably keep trying to exercise, dress halfway decent and curl my hair occasionally.  But if I don’t have the latest Kate Spade purse or ombre hair color, it doesn’t mean I don’t know about the trends. I may even covet them now and again, but I’m working on that.  I’ve decided to devote the next decade to being pretty on the inside.  In ten years, no matter what creams or potions I use, I will look different. I’m ok with that. I’m hoping that when others see me, it won’t be pretty that defines me. I want to be so much more than pretty.   

No kids allowed!

Once I was visiting a church with my husband and 2 young kids (Eli was maybe 1 at the time).  Jaelin went to the kids program easily, but Eli was sleepy so he just stayed with me. I went to sit down in the auditorium (this was a non-traditional location and service), and as I walked closer to the front (pastor’s wife habit), an usher tapped me and asked me to follow him to the back of the room. This church, in an effort to be helpful, had seats in the back, near the doors, for parents with small kids.  I was a little offended.  Ok – maybe a lot offended, since I’m writing about this nearly 10 years later.

I’m sure the church was trying to be helpful and I get those noisy babies and kids can be distracting.  But should we assume everyone under the age of 5 will be a nuisance at church and relegate them to the back?  Or should we give parents some chance to actually parent and decide where their family should sit.  For my family, and me sitting at the front (near the aisle for easy exits), has helped focus my kids in on worship and the sermon.  Actually, it helps me focus better too.  I’m 41 and easily distracted by the cute haircuts and awesome shoes around me when I sit far from the stage. 

Yes, I’ve seen clueless parents let their kids howl through the best part of the sermon.  But I’ve also seen tearful parents run out of church early because they were exhausted trying to “train” their kids to behave in church.  So I tend to fall on the side of grace when it comes to allowing families to come as they are, and as they behave to church. 

I’ve had this unfortunate event one one of my church visits, but I’ve also been the recipient of lots of love at church – helpful grandmas offering to hold my baby during the service, smiling teenagers behind me returning a dropped crayon for the umpteenth time, fellow moms who sharing their snacks, wet wipes and whatever else I forgot to pack, and strong, eagle eyed helpers who escorted me with a heavy car seat, stroller, diaper bag and sleeping toddler to the car.  Those were all small mercies that meant a lot at the time.  They (and awesome nursery and kids church staff) were the angels that enabled me to keep going to church while I had three kids under 5.  I’m not a single mom, but I was on Sabbath morning.  As a pastor’s wife, I hope I wasn’t treated better than a regular mom at our church at the time.  I choose to think we were all loved there.  They were Jesus to me. Now that my kids are pretty independent and fairly behaved (sometimes) at church, I hope to be Jesus to others, to get them through those “Why did I even bother to get up and dressed today?” kind of Sabbath mornings.  There are mornings these days when I still feel that way, but if I allow myself to listen to the spirit of God in my heart, and open my eyes to people around me whom he sends to love me and be there for me, I realize that the best place for me to be at 10am on his holy Sabbath is in community.