So for a lot of the world, boredom is real. I read in a meme that pandas can eat 13 hours a day…hence calling this a “pandemic.” Need a couple of fresh ideas while you’re bored in quarantine?
Try these jigsaw puzzles from White Mountain with icons from the 80’s and the 90’s–serious conversation starters. (“Dad, who was Michael Jackson?”)
So maybe like me, you got the automated notice from the school yesterday that your kids–surprise!–have an extra week of spring break next week, because #coronavirus.
And maybe like me, a member of your family braved Costco this week. Or maybe you now possess a weird amount of toilet paper–which according to a meme I saw yesterday, is now the bottom rung of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.
Sitting with my daughter yesterday, she expressed she had a little fear for 2020. It’s a big year, she explained, with some personal stuff, plus elections and Olympics and what-not.
My first inclination–in light of how young she is, of course–was to brush away her fear.
This past Sunday was a beautiful moment for our little family: My husband baptized my two youngest children.
Anyone else feel like they’re constantly fighting the tide of tech in their homes?
No, I don’t want my kids to arrive at college like a bat out of you-know-where. I want them to know how to responsibly handle tech as a tool for growth and entertainment. But this also means my husband and I are constantly seeking to add to our wisdom about protecting them.
I first took the enneagram about a year ago when my family mentioned it. (Yes, my whole family talks about this kind of stuff. If you’re into a sports team or politics, we might not be able to help you out).
With a husband who’s a Human Resources exec, you can bet I’ve taken my share of personality tests. (I’ve even tried to outwit some of them?)
Personally, the enneagram has brought me more self-knowledge–knowledge that actually helped me truly change–than any of the others. I even keep basic profiles on my Kindle. (Yeah. I’m one of those.) With 207 subtypes, I’ve found it to be fairly accurate for me, which hasn’t always been the case with other profiles.
My 9-year-old was ready to spend his screen time. But you know that feeling, stumbling around to find quality television for an elementary schooler?
In a blast from my ‘80s past, I delighted to find The Cosby Show on Amazon. (I mean, sort of. Now there’s this niggling in my mind, as if I missed something in those eight years of regular Thursday nights, my chin propped on my palms as I lay on the shag carpet.) In a few minutes, I could hear my son giggling from the next room. “Mom! You’ve gotta come see this part!” We chuckled together over Theo and Rudy, and over Dr. Huxtable imitating a woman in labor.
My son’s enthrallment was only three weeks before Mr. Cosby was led somberly in handcuffs from a Pennsylvania courthouse, prison-bound following his conviction of sexual assault. Like so many, I groaned at the disparity: Perfect, hilarious TV family. Lurid, devastating real life.
My husband and I sat at the empty dining-room table (um. Empty except for all the stuff my kids didn’t pick up), discussing Thanksgiving plans over a cobbled-together lunch. Him: leftover Mexican. Me: a bunch of stuff dumped in a bowl with tortilla chips. We were talking about what he hoped would happen; he turned to me.
“What about you?”
Well. There it was. I knew it would sound a little martyrish. But, hey. I’m a mother of four kids off school. I’m inviting relatives. My work-from-home schedule had already been put through the blender with the lid off. (I mean, that’s having kids in general, right? Like my “birth plan”. Please write down what you hope will happen so that, if the other 246 factors align themselves, we can help you have the birth you want.)
Am I the only one who admits to slyly checking NBC.com to know when This is Us would restart after the summer? I keep waiting for an episode that won’t bring tears to my eyes, dagnabbit. Completely, 100% sucked in.
I’m a Christian. Not all of any show’s values will align with mine. All of life doesn’t align with my values. So there’s that. But honestly, I’m not easily hooked by TV shows. As a writer, I’m always analyzing: What’s the animal magnetism of this show? What’s timeless here? Why can’t we swivel our heads away from the Pearson family? Why do we love this messy (though typically non-crass) brood that could be any one of us?
Could it be there’s more here than some modern soap opera? What if there’s something of what we’re all gunning for?
I’ve written a lot lately about spiritual disciplines for real families (check out the series here for lots of practical ideas). This summer, I’m creating some incentives for my kids to squirrel away a few more verses in their minds–and hopefully even deeper than that.
Because summer’s here and it’s a great time to try something fresh, I’ve made some more Scripture memory cards (they’re great for wallets and pockets, but great scotch-taped inside the medicine cabinet and the cupboard, too, or even dropped in a lunchbox).
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
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