June 2009

Happiness or Academic Intelligence…What Would You Choose?

When Frank was looking for a guest blogger…I jumped at the chance. I really do have too much to say about everything. I pondered on all the topics. I brainstormed and created a long list. And I thought about it while I was packing up one house to move to another ~ which was it’s own form of Chinese Torture. I wanted to throw my opinion out there, I wanted to talk about my business ~ The 3 Day Sleep Solution, I wanted to point out something crazy that is going on in our noisy sensationalized world, and I even thought about rocking the boat at bit. but then I realized that most importantly I wanted to leave everyone with something that would make them feel a little better about the madness of being a parent. I work with parents every day. They ask me questions from what I think about breast feeding to how old their infant should be before they start sign language classes or to start full-time preschool. I’ve watched mothers wait all night to get their child into the “best” preschool. I’ve watched parents get speech therapist for their 2 year old, and yes, even tutors for children who haven’t even started school. And I’ve asked myself over and over…WHY? Does all of the craziness of trying to make your child more intelligent make anyone really happy? That is the question!

The best compliment I have received to date is…someone is always laughing in my house. One would think…being a woman it would be about looking thinner, great hair, great shoes, etc. but it wasn’t. It was about the level of happiness in my house and that yes, someone is always laughing. And that makes me very happy until the dreaded progress report or report card time comes. And with the opening of those obnoxious envelopes zzzzziiiippppppp…a painful silence stifles the laughter if only for a second.

I have three daughters and I think they all have their own unique personalities and gifts.  In fact, they could not be more different. I have two who get excellent grades. In fact one just finishsed her second year at Madison with straight A’s, one just finished fourth grade with almost all 4’s (the equivalent of A’s) and then there is my oldest daughter ~ yikes. If I took Prozac…on report card days…I’d double up. It is painful when her grades come in. Her father and I have to go into ‘talks’ about what we are going to take away from her, how we might torture her into getting better grades, and worse…I spend time thinking about how I messed up on her first three years and trained her hypothalamus to avoid frustration at all costs by doing too much for her.

But then I stop because that girl is one happy person! And the only time she is really unhappy - other thant the normal teenage girl hormone stuff - is when we are beating her up about her grades. This is an ongoing struggle for us because the one with the worst grades is the happiest and the one with the best grades…well…would be unhappy if her ice cubes were cold and the third one seems to have both - go figure. We want them to be happy but we also want them to make the grade. I want her to go to college. I want her to have all the options that good grades will bring her but at what cost?
Our society values intelligence and good grades and achieving that has little to do with happiness but is what we all want. After all no one goes to the doctor to get a prescription because they feel dumb. They go because they are unhappy.

So by the end of one more report card day, I come to the same conclusion after I check my ego. I do want them to be happy and most importantly I want them to do their very best. Who isn’t happy when they know they’ve given it their all? And academic success…it’s nice and an important piece of the puzzle but I know on my best days, I never reflect on how smart I am but on how happy I am.

Davis Ehrler

Share

I’M NOT READY FOR THIS!

Do you remember when you first got married?  Or should I say do you remember the first time you cohabitated with the opposite sex?  It’s one of those things you thought you were ready for, but in reality could never be ready for.  The way he brushes his teeth bugs me.  Why does she have so much trouble cooking a chicken?  Why does he have to fart in the bed?  The list goes on.

How about when your first child is born?  You’ve watched your mom and dad.  You’ve had brothers and sisters.   You’re mentally prepared and ready for your first child.  It’s another thing you just can’t be ready for no matter how much you think you’re ready.  I always remember the first night at home with Stewart.  He was up all night wailing away because he had gas.  I remember him laying between Karen and I at 3:30am and  we were both looking at eachother like we didn’t know what to do for him.

Last night was supposed to be a typical Friday night around here.  There’s dance class and then there’s dinner.  Stewart asked to have a friend over to spend the night and if I could take them surfing early in the morning.  It’s been a long week, so I make a cocktail and sit down to relax, when Karen informs me that three teenage girls are coming over to “hang out.”  I didn’t take it seriously because one thing I’ve learned with young teenagers is that most of their plans seem to fall apart at the last minute because they never inform their parents until the last minute.

Sure enough, three teenage girls are sitting in the backyard around the firepit thirty minutes later.  I’ve known this was coming for a long time now, but I’m just not ready for this!  I can’t lay around in my underwear anymore.  Karen and I want this to be a positive experience for the kids and for us.  After we got over our shock, we went out and introduced ourselves and offered them lemonade and to turn some music on.

After a couple of hours, the boys come in and tell us they are going to walk the girls home.  Before too long, I’ve watched a little television in bed and now am soundly asleep.  It’s ten minutes to midnight and Karen wakes me up saying the boys aren’t home.  Here we go.  It turns out all the teens got a little sidetracked and decided to go toilet paper a friend’s house(who Karen and I happen to be friends with the parents).  The teens broke the two golden rules of toilet papering.  Never toilet paper someone’s house while they’re home and never toilet paper someone’s house at 10pm on a Friday night.  They got caught and had to clean the whole mess up which is the excuse for getting home so late.

I’m not ready for this, but somehow it will all work out.

Share