In this week's "Learn to Try" summer challenge we head to the Rock Creek Park planetarium... and get more than we bargained for. This is a great activity for kids anytime of the year- assuming they're feeling up for it.Read More
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We’re doing a summer “learn to try” challenge with our family. In the ten weeks between me saying “I can’t believe it’s over” school-year edition and “I can’t believe it’s over” summertime edition, we have one new activity planned.
These mini-stretch goals are supposed to be fun. Brian and I want everyone in our house to learn a process for how to try new things. (The things themselves weren’t as important)
That simple process is:
- Prep- learn what you can via a book or video
- Plan- figure out the first couple of steps to take (OMG, I just wrote “determine your approach” as if I was writing one of my federal project proposals without even thinking-bleh), and
- Do- then, like Nike, just do it.
We’ve also done a little post-challenge analysis to talk about what worked and didn’t and what we’d do differently next time. My hope is that the kids get into the practice of seeing new things not as intimidating and impenetrable but just like everything else- something you can try by breaking it down into a couple of do-able steps.
This was a really long lead-in to the preview of what we’re doing this week. We’re eating whole foods for a week- nothing processed. Another way to think about it is, we’re eating like it’s 1947.
This time 70 years ago, all four of our kid’s great grandmothers had young families. By the time it was all said and done a couple years later, Connie, Frances, Emily, and Jesse would together have 27 children. Among them was MaryAnne, Ricky, Lynda, and Jimmie.
What were these little kids eating? Of course, a lot of whole, unprocessed foods. There are a couple of reasons for this: fewer processed foods existed, money was tight, and all four of them had strong beliefs about right and wrong. Food was just one.
Pretending it’s the summer of 1947, here’s our meal plan for the week.
The idea is to make everything from scratch. Okay, okay. Not everything. Instead, the question I'm asking myself is this: would the kids’ great grandmothers recognize this as food?
With that rule of thumb, here are the exceptions:
- Tortillas. Forgetting the regional differences, Connie in San Diego would have definitely seen these before. I'm buying 'em.
- Pasta. It might not have been popular at the time in Alabama or California, but Emily in New Jersey would have had boxes of dried pasta in her pantry. Jesse, being first generation from Italy, was still be making pasta by hand. We’re going with Emily on this one.
- Other exceptions to the no processed food rule include flour, sugar, peanut butter, jelly, and condiments, of course. Yes, that last one might be cheating, but I want my kids to enjoy this and not completely revolt. If a little hetchup helps me accomplish that goal, it’s in.
You’ll notice it’s just dinners. Luckily, the kids are all in camp or daycare serving breakfast and lunch each day. One of the reasons we love these programs is that they already provide whole foods for each meal. We’ll likely do this challenge again once school starts. Marin brought her lunch each day and what I packed gradually deteriorated into a lunchbox filled with little packages over the course of the year ☹
So, I’ll be thinking about Connie, Frances, Emily, and Jessie this week. From what I remember and what I’ve heard from our parents, these women had many things in common. Like so many of their peer group, they were resourceful, worked really, really hard, and made things special for their families every chance they got.
As we kick-off our Week 3 summer “learn to try” challenge, I’m imagining them sitting together- each with a new pair of these awesome shoes and a glass of iced tea- looking down laughing, critiquing, and cheering us on.
To catch and release a lightning bug was our summer “learn to try” challenge of the week.
Like Week 1’s Do a Cartwheel, I thought this was going to be a gimme. And, I was happy about that. I’m easing myself into this new summer routine and congratulating myself each day everyone makes it where they’re supposed to go (various camps, daycare, work, runs, etc.) by 9 am or so.
So, it’s not that catching a lightning bug is hard. It’s just that I never realized how semi-serendipitous it is. Before I get to the story of our bugs, let me back up…
To prepare for this week, we made a trip to the library. We had to go there anyway because the kids needed more books. Marin and Baya are in a fierce competition to see who can fill out the lines on their summer reading lists first. This race isn’t exactly fair for a couple of reasons, but I’m just the supplier in this case- not judging. We loaded up on books with covers that caught their attention. We then moseyed over to the animal section and picked out a couple on fireflies. Linc insisted on getting one on marsupials because you never know when a kangaroo might hop by while we’re out catching bugs. He wanted to be prepared.
We then had like five nights in a row of being busy doing other things. So, our bug catching had to wait.
Finally, it seemed like a good night so we cracked open the books. I immediately put the first one back into the bag- too many words. Seriously, people, I’m not trying to lay here all night reading. The second was much more what I had in mind.
- Fireflies aren’t flies. They’re beetles. (I’d suspected as much because I don't hate them.)
- They blink to find a mate.
- And, they come out at dusk.
As I read this, I looked out the window. It was entirely dark. Oops. We ran outside and wandered around the yard for a while. Nuthin’
That meant corralling the kids back inside with a promise to try the next night.
On our do-over night, we dutifully sat on the front step and waited. The blinks did come, alas they were across the street. We kept looking and hoping to find one in our yard. Nuthin’
Finally, we decided our neighbors wouldn’t mind and we all headed over to catch one and transplant him (and a friend because you know) to our side of the street.
This week’s challenge had me feeling nostalgic and concerned. Growing up, I remember zillions of them in our backyard in Silver Spring, Maryland. Why weren’t there any fireflies in our yard here in Falls Church?* I don’t know.
- Maybe it’s just bad luck
- Maybe it’s our landscaping. We don’t have any “leaf litter” or many low trees or bushes where they seem to enjoy growing up and hanging out.
- But, maybe it's because we get sprayed for mosquitoes. There are conflicting statements on the web but, sadly, it seems to make sense. This article from the Post outlines the possible contributors- include pesticides. It’s something to consider next year.
Now we can check the box “complete” on Week 2’s summer “learn to try” challenge.
The kids seemed to enjoy the release even more than the catch itself. Our pair of bugs wasn’t in the jar for 2 seconds before the girls were hollering to let them go. So, we did. We’re hoping they like our yard. We’d love for them to settle in and raise a family here. As the second took off from the edge of the jar, Marin said, “Go on, little buggy. If I could fly, I’d be up there too.”
*Maryland friends: Yes, I remember many, many more fireflies growing up in Silver Spring than I see now in Falls Church. Settle down. This anecdotal observation isn’t additional evidence add to your very short list of things that make Maryland better than Virginia. Until you have wine in your grocery stores (ALL OF THEM), Virginia will be the better state. Love you! Blink, blink.
Week 1 of our Summer “Learn to Try” challenge was do a cartwheel- or in my case- attempt to do a cartwheel after spending 20 years hunched over a computer.
When we were brainstorming with the kids, I have to admit that I liked it because it sounded easy. I figured I’d show them a couple of YouTube videos, do one myself for old times' sake, and then they'd be off and 'wheeling. That didn’t happen. Here’s what did and the lesson I didn't see coming on coaching your own kid.
Like every other athletic training program I’ve ever started, we began...by sitting comfortably on the couch doing “research.” By this I mean we watched 45+ minutes of YouTube videos like this one. We actually only needed to see one but they were all so cute. We sort of binge watched, and I decided this was going even easier than I thought.
After doing some wrist stretches (as the 8-year-old in the video's advised), we headed outside. We went straight to the front yard because the grass is literally greener and there is no dog poop to dodge. I was feeling so confident that I didn't even mind that everyone in the neighborhood was going to see what we were up to.
Before I go on, I should tell you that this challenge idea came from my oldest daughter Marin. So, not surprisingly, she was the most interested. Correction: She was the only one interested. Baya and Linc were invited to our after-dinner practice session, but they insisted on goofing off, doing somersaults, and playing hide and seek. Even after I explained the purpose of the summer challenge program AGAIN, they didn’t seem to grasp the opportunity.
Because I have a keen eye for indifference and we had no time to waste, I made the right call and cut them from our fledgling gymnastics team. With confused (and relieved) looks, they went back to hide and seek.
With my focus back on Marin, we picked a soft-looking spot and shot this “before” video.
Then came the moment I’d be dreading: my cartwheel- the first in 20+ years. It was harder than I imagined. Being upside down for that split second just reinforced how utterly weak and inflexible I am.
Feeling incapable and deflated, I reminded myself that this challenge was more for Marin and I didn’t need to participate actively. I could coach from the sidelines.
Then, things got tricky.
We went out to the practice field (corner of the front yard) each night last week. She certainly made progress, but the perfect cartwheel didn’t just “snap” into place as I’d imagined it would. As I stood there trying to offer helpful suggestions, I realized I was at a loss for two reasons:
- Cartwheels aren’t my thing either. I didn’t have any specific tips to offer and found myself repeatedly saying “try to straighten your legs more.” Not helpful.
- This was a self-imposed challenge that was supposed to be fun. How hard should I really be pushing her?
On the second point, I’d always assumed that you couldn’t (or shouldn’t?) teach or coach your own kid. So, I emailed my brother-in-law Kenny, explained the situation, and asked for some advice. You should know that Kenny the middle-aged, bald, white-guy version of Bo Jackson. Kenny knows baseball, basketball, football, and karate. He’s been coaching his four sons since birth, and they’re all outstanding athletes.
When I picked up his call, he barely said hello and launched in with: “3 words: DON’T DO IT.” He was joking but this demonstrates how conflicted he is on the topic. When he got serious, he said:
- Know what you’re talking about- or, at least, really sound like you do. You have to have the physical ability and game experience to offer specific, nuanced advice and direction.
- Know yourself and know your kid. You have to be self-aware about your style and know whether or not that works for your kid. Some parents have a one-to-one style match. Both parent and kid respond well to an aggressive “in your face” approach or both have a softer, more nurturing and encouraging tone. Some family pairs are complete opposites. If you have a match, there is a big opportunity to do a lot of coaching. If you don’t, it’s better for everyone to bring in a third party with a coaching style that matches your kid.
- Be able to turn it off. Kenny is the first to admit that he struggles with this. He realizes that he’s in coaching mode 24/7, 365 days a year. He wishes he could turn off his urge to correct his sons’ technique when they’re just goofing off in the yard with friends.
So, why do it at all?
Kenny- like a lot of parents- is proud of his kids and sees their potential. When they hit a home run over the fence or pitch in a championship game, parents like Kenny can’t help but feel happy about their kids’ accomplishments and their role in getting them there. He added there is a greater sense of control over their sports experience and sees the benefit of the extra hours together.
When I asked my nephew Ben (now a pre-teen) what he liked about being coached by his dad, the answer was simple. “We get to work more at home, and he’s very supportive.” What doesn’t Ben like? “When he’s sometimes hard on me.”
The key, according to Kenny, is to figure out quickly how to push them to do their best-- without damaging the relationship.
So, where does this leave me and my ability to coach Marin on her cartwheels? Well, we're going to keep at it but not on any specific time frame. I mean, seriously self, there's no rush to check this little box. I'm also going to do as many as I suggest she do. Lastly, since I'm clearly not the expert, I'll give her a chance to coach me back.
While our cartwheel challenge was small in the scheme of things, it did provide a window into the world of coaching your kid. It’s an entirely different dynamic than regular parenting.
Overall, this was a fun challenge that wasn’t as easy (or engaging) for all as I’d imagined. However, it got us all playing outside with something specific to do- which, for me, was a bonus.
Catching a firefly is up next. More to come next week!
I've included a couple outtakes from practice below.