I'd like to reflect for a moment on parenting.  I have been giving a lot of though to what we give our children.  For a long time, I felt badly that I couldn't provide my children with the lifestyle I had thought they would have.  However, I have come to realize a few things.

Firstly, it's ok.  My children are learning from the sacrifice.  The things I MOST want for my children are not cool vacations, electronics, fancy clothes or cars, or a nice house.  I MOST want them to be kind, to be selfless, to be loving and generous.  I want them to have a good perspective.  Recently, a dear friend gave me a tour of her 9,000 square foot house.  It was perfect and beautiful.  I was envious, especially when I saw they had a guest apartment that was almost the size of my entire house... until the moment when the friend said that a desperate person in the ward had asked to rent it. She said that she felt bad saying no, as they have frequent guests that use the space.  She said she didn't think her children should have to give up their personal space, just because guests were invited. Again, I envied the options, even as my heart screamed NO!  No!  Don't teach your children that they are entitled to their own suites. Don't teach your children that their needs come before everyone else. Teach them to be so, so thankful for their beautiful bedrooms.  Teach them that they are very blessed, very privileged to have a nice place to sleep.  Teach them to be thrilled to share, to make someone else feel comfortable, and to be happy to have a turn on your parents bedroom floor, because you were lucky enough to have something worth sharing (for the record, my friend is a wonderful mother, with kind children).

I am forced to teach my children these things by circumstance; my parents taught us by choice, which is so much more admirable.  When I was 16, my peer group received cars.  Some were hand-me-downs from older siblings, some were new and shiny.  Many received gas cards for fill-ups.  Maintenance was provided by dealers.  When I turned 16, I got a stereo.  I was thrilled - I never expected a car.  My parents left me to my own craftiness to figure out how to get home from school. Usually, I rode with friends blessed with cars.  Sometimes I walked (gasp!)  I learned resilience, self-reliance, negotiation skills.  I learned to swallow my pride.  When I began my senior year, my schedule was chaos - early morning seminary, work across town at Dow Chemical, then afternoon at high school.  After school I cleaned houses four days a week, and my evenings were frequently spent babysitting.  A car became less of a luxury and more of a necessity.  I did not get a shiny new car with a maintenance package and gas card.  I got a 1983 Toyota Supra.  It was beautiful.  It was my dad's car - he had to get rides to work with a friend.  His sacrifice made my blessing all the more poignant. The Supra was a fun car, but had its problems.  It had rusted around the top of the windshield.  When it rained, or the snow was really wet, water poured in from the top of the car.  We kept yellow Mickey Mouse ponchos in the car, and had to put them on the seat when the car was parked.  When I wanted to drive, I shook out the poncho and wore it.  Water would drip down my left hand to my arm and pool in my armpit.  The car burnt oil, so every single Friday I would check the level, and add oil as needed.  I also had to check the tires when I gassed up, as they had slow leaks.   I paid for gas with my checkbook, using my earnings from my actual, real life job(s).  Oh, how I loved that car and these memories!  I remember feeling honored, yes, honored, when friends would ask me for a ride home from school.  So, the question to ask myself now: did my parents do me a disservice when I turned 16 and they didn't buy me a new car?

I have previously written about Claire's dissatisfaction with sharing a room with brothers.  I agree with her, I long to give her her own room.  I long to spread out, and have more space.  Our current house is small, and the floor plan is a little ridiculous.  There is a tiny entrance to the kitchen.  The pantry door is within that entrance, so if it's open, we can't get in or out.  We can only open one appliance at a time, so we frequently hear "Can you please close the dishwasher for a sec so I can get this out of the oven?"  The laundry room is off of the kitchen, and the bathroom is through the laundry room.  If the refrigerator is open, it blocks the entrance to laundry, so if you're using the bathroom, you can't get out until the fridge is closed.  If there's laundry in front of the washer, it blocks access to the bathroom as well.  The kitchen is so small, we have to keep the trash in the dining area, which is carpeted.... imagine what that carpet looks like.  It's maddening, as was having a wet left armpit when I was 17.  But as I look back at the car experience, is this house really doing us a disservice?  Will I look back on this in 20 years and laugh?  Remember this as a time of great personal growth and joy?  If not, I need to really start re-framing my perspective fast!

I have discovered that my children take their cues from me.  When things are frustrating, if I get upset, so do they.  If I laugh and tell them it's not a big deal, it's not a big deal.  When I complain that our home is inadequate, they see it as inadequate.  The weight of this responsibility rests on me, and I plan to take it seriously.  When the kids complain that they're the only kids without iphones, I congratulate them on all the blessings of NOT having an iphone.  I have decided to teach them to be thankful for a million little things, to always look for the good, and find joy in the moment.  We will have to see how it goes.