1m2aSandbox

We did a lot of fun things over spring break, and spent as much time as was humanly possible outside and being active. We did little hikes, and had several day-long playdates at local parks, and practically spent the entire weekend outdoors on the farm.

But my favorite outdoor time was our Big Bike Ride.

We’ve got a lot of great jogging paths right near our house, and you can get on one and stay on it for miles without having to cross a street or deal with cars. So one day we decided to pack some snacks, get on the bike, and ride to a favorite park.

A few miles away.

There’s an article circulating the internet about one Mom’s version of Independence Day: a few times a year, her family has a day where EVERYONE does EVERYTHING for him or herself.

This is very attractive to me.

This mom started her tradition – now something they do a few times a year, for several years and counting – when she realized that all the ways she serves her children may also be holding them back from natural independence. Shoe tying, water fetching, late-homework-bringing, all the things we do because we want our kids to have a good life, can sometimes be what keeps them from figuring stuff out for themselves.

We try to eat healthy in our house. We definitely don’t eat enough vegetables, but we’re working on it. And the girls understand that I’m happy to let them have a cookie – as long as it’s one we’ve made ourselves. We’re working on understanding that homemade junk food is way better than store-bought junk food (and I use the word “food” loosely in that case).

Sometimes it’s hard; sometimes I think I’m lecturing waaaay too much, or turning my kids into those weird children who will sneak out of the house on a Friday night just to have a Twinkie. And then chew a piece of gum when they come home to disguise their breath.

I worry about finding that balance between not making food SUCH a big deal – it’s just what we use for fuel, no more, no less – and making sure they understand the importance of what we put in our bodies. I worry that they’ll fear food, and become paralyzed in a 7-11 when they’re 16 years old and off with friends. I worry they’ll develop a Dorito habit and hide the bags as they come in the house.

In short, I think about this a lot.

Seriously? Who invented Daylight Savings Time, anyway?

I remember when we were first confronted with the whole DST “thing”, when our firstborn was a toddler. School wasn’t an issue, no real schedule to have to follow, but I remember that feeling of panic when I thought about Maddie being up one. More. Hour. Every night. Even though the clock said “TEN” her body would still be thinking “NINE”, and do you what that would mean?

She’d be awake. And unhappy. And wanting Mommy.

And Mommy? Would just be wanting that one PRECIOUS hour of non-kid time that had been stolen from her every evening.

It feels ridiculous to type “March 4” followed by the words “Snow Day” in the middle of Texas.

Yet here we are.

A small ice storm descended Sunday afternoon making the roads undriveable. And yes, you can laugh at Texas drivers all you want, but I spent twelve years in New York and the drive home for me Sunday afternoon, which should have taken half an hour, took two hours. Mostly because it was a highway full of drivers going ten miles an hour, trying to navigate a solid sheet of ice. Every so often I’d slide gently into the lane next to me, trying not to hit my brakes or cause a car near me to freak out. I passed a few cars that had clearly spun out, and one not-great accident. I arrived home safely, but it was luck as much as skill that got me there.