the family that slays together…

Tags

dnd, dungeons and dragons, games, rpg

Just over a year ago (the end of 2018 over the kids’ Winter Break), Scott (AKA: The Hubby) and I busted out one of the moldering skills of our misspent nerdy youth (before it was cool man!) and transformed our family into a costume-wearing, accent-wielding, foam weapon toting band of comedic adventurers of Faerûn.

Sharkbait takes his turn designing a one-off mini-campaign

Phee updates her notes

Multitasking…

Talking our way through bailing out an informant and fighting a notorious pirate lord

Today, we parent an adolescent half-elf druid and a pre-teen dragonborn barbarian. …Except when we parent a moon elf bard and a grung pirate.   It gives the hubby and I no choice but to make household chores “taking the trash out from the keep to avoid the plague” or “dishwashing at the inn because you ran out of gold.”  We watch shows like Critical Role like other families watch football and the kids watch YouTube animators like Puffin Forest and Dingo Doodles like the Saturday morning cartoons of my back-in-the-day.

More props (the fancy, more pricey kind)

Improvised scenery

Sharkbait’s battle map…

Props

Making up our own items for quest rewards

In our adventures, we have taken out a thieves guild, rescued small children from a troll, saved a village’s hunters from a roving band of evil goblins, and more.  But more practically, playing Dungeons and Dragons (we play 5th edition) was a bit of a no-brainer as a family activity:

1. Players work together for a common goal with individual motivations and have to resolve conflict collaboratively, or they all potentially pay the price.
2. The game is heavily steeped in imagination and creativity as skills that are frequently overlooked in other games in both character development and during the progression of the game itself.
3. There’s a huge opportunity for customization and creativity outside of the game that gets them doing stuff they’d normally bypass as “not fun,” from painting tediously tiny minifigures, learning to sew making costumes, writing backstories and reading big fat books (in the immortal words of Sharkbait: “Who knew instruction manuals could be this fun, mom?!?”).
4. Playing and planning games teaches them strategic thinking, cause-and-effect, organization and planning (both in-game and out), conflict resolution, “public” speaking, storytelling, improvisation, and more;  and
5. It’s a fun way to spend time together creating valued memories.

…As a parent, I value anything that gets my kids to read more, draw more, find ways to entertain themselves without having to hear the words “I’m bored,” and to enjoy spending time together.  As the parent of a kid with ADHD, I value anything that helps teach him to appreciate the value of the tasks he often finds difficult (and therefore tedious) and encourages him to develop the social skills that he so often finds challenging.  As a mom, whose creative outlets often feel stymied by adulting and parenting, I appreciate that I have the opportunity to engage in the former without feeling like I’m shirking the latter…also, I flirt with the hubby’s character, and there’s some good that comes from that as well when the kids aren’t around.

Lorelia, half-elf druid

Phee’s drawing of Lorelia

And…don’t just take my word for it…if it’s not something you’ve thought about or considered before… Anecdotal information and some preliminary studies suggest that kids that play RPG games like D&D do better in school, even when they have struggled in school and discuss the mechanisms by which such games may do so.  It’s being used as a form of therapy,  for teaching social skills to kids like mine, etc.

Don’t get me wrong, there are challenges to playing with kids vs. playing with other adults, especially when it comes to adapting to playing with kids for the first time, running an entire campaign of just kids (The Hubby and I hosted a campaign for our kids and their friends–6 to 8 preteens most sessions–until we moved to Germany over the summer), and in running a campaign with multiple kids with ADHD or other challenges (luckily there’s advice for that).  There are simplified character sheets for kids, official books geared towards teaching kids the game (I’ve not gotten these because my kids love the official manuals, but I can see how they might be great for kids with reading challenges), and even choose-your-own-adventure style books.

And the best part about playing Dungeons and Dragons today, compared to 20-30 years ago, is that it’s more accessible and cooler than its ever been!

But (to quote another childhood favorite who has made a comeback), don’t just take my word on it!

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raising a good loser

Tags

awards, losing, participation, winning

Its always funny to me, when I hear the people around me that complain about participation trophies…its more often been my experience that the folks doing the complaining tend to emulate they very definition of poor sportsmanship whether they win or lose.

Often I hear “there were no participation awards in my day” from my contemporaries.  Um, WTF?  I have about a dozen or so that my mom saved along with every piece of artwork and honor roll certificate I ever received.  And guess what?  My parents had some of those same types of awards…

And really, people have been receiving awards for not “winning” (however one defines that) for some time now, starting with the establishment of the Honorable Mention by the Kingdom of the Netherlands in 1831 as a way to honor soldiers that had done brave deeds that weren’t quite brave enough for an actual award.  Literally, an honorable mention was an official statement honoring an individual for doing something good, but not good enough.

It has not escaped my notice that, on the participation trophy question alone, I can reliably predict the political bent on the individuals that are against them more than 3/4s of the time… 

Let’s face reality here: The vast majority of children will never play a professional sport or world competition level amateur sport.  At most, a child may play a sport through high school and perhaps into college.  Realistically (unless they go to a tiny school somewhere) they might not even play varsity unless they are pretty darn good, much less be regional or state champions.  At best, for most children, sporting events are a flash in the pan of childhood; sound and fury, signifying nothing in the greater context of a life lived or the wider world.

And that’s not to say that sports do not have a value in the lives of children or in a child’s development into an adult, because they can.  Rather, if your motivation to have your children play sports is to win, I’d say your motivation is in the wrong place to begin with (sadly, I’ve seen too many parents like this, or worse, the ones trying to live their childhood over again through their children regardless of their children’s interested).

As a parent now (and a former coach who has seen dozens of examples of the kind of parent I never wanted to coach, much less become myself when I had children), I only have one goal for my kids’ participation in sports–that it makes them a better person.
To determine this, I routinely my kids five questions…which is another post altogether.
 
I would rather have a child that is a “loser” with the skill to lose gracefully and get back up and try again when they fall down than some snotty brat shoving their 1st place trophy (literally or metaphorically) in another kid’s face (something else I’ve seen).  I would rather have a child that dances or plays basketball or swims or runs for the ecstatic joy of movement and the love of the game itself than to win.  30 years down the road, my kids won’t remember the names of the meets they competed in or where they placed, but they will remember the experience of doing something fun and working hard (win or lose).  They will remember that sometimes they won and sometimes they lost and neither one determined their worth as a person.

If a certificate helps to teach them that its the down and dirty diligent effort and not the score that makes them a better person, then so be it.  If a little ribbon can remind them in a time of hardship that losing with grace as much a skill as winning with humility, then ribbons for all.  If a little chunk of gold-painted plastic gives them the courage and encouragement to get up and try again after falling down and getting hurt or embarrassed or both, then what kind of jackass would take that away?

A kid that gets a participation award instead of a first place trophy knows they are a loser in the strictest sense of the word.  But they know they are a winner too, in the ways and places where it actually counts in life—that they showed up, they played the game with honor, they did their damnedest, and they finished the season with their head up, with dignity and grace, geared to try again, win or lose.  And in life, how many people can’t even claim that?

The 5 Questions

Today, I ask both kids, for anything they do, to consider 5 questions. The questions have changed a bit, shifted in their complexity from when they were younger, but the idea behind them has been consistent since Sharkbait was in preschool and Chickadee was in kindergarten (now they are in the 4th and 6th grades, so it been a while). And sometimes I still make them tell me their answers…

But when I started, it was because Chickadee overheard a gym parent berating an older gymnast and was all wide-eyed and horrified as she grabbed her snack and drink. Goodness knows as someone who used to coach and teach lessons, I CANNOT STAND bullying sports parents, but I also don’t like being a bitch in front of my kids, so I walked up to her and asked if she was okay, and she said “I hope you never talk to me like that about something I love to do, just because I made a mistake.”

I looked at the dad, still ranting at a 10 or 11-year-old, who was trying to hold back tears and save some face in front of teammates and other parents and tiny kids that just want to do cartwheels.  And at the point where he grabbed his daughter by the shoulders to do the shaking-yell-in-the-face manuver that I was only too familiar with from my own childhood trauma, I grabbed both of Chickadee’s little hands and steered her a bit so she wasn’t looking at the dad and I more-or-less said this:

S__________, the ONLY thing this mother cares about when it comes to the activities you participate in is this:

First of all, are you working hard? I mean, you look like you are working hard, your hair looks like a scarecrow and you’re all red in the face like you ran around or something…what, were you working out?

Second, did you do the best that you could do? I mean, sometimes we just do stuff automatically…but when you do your best, you should think about all of the things that it takes to make something really good.  Nothing will ever be perfect because there’s always room for improvement, but as long as you give it your best shot according to what you are able to do, that’s what I care about as a parent.

Number three–Are you listening to your coach? It’s not my job to tell you how to do your gymnastics right, that’s your coach’s job.  She’s in charge of you, she has the expertise on this. I will encourage you, I will cheer for you, I will ask you to show off your skills so I can take picutres for grandma, I will be sad when you fall down, and I will kiss your boo-boos when you get hurt…but I’m just a spectator here.  I will never humiliate you by yelling at you in front of everyone, because that’s a bad example, whether its leadership or parenting.

Four, are you learning from what you are doing wrong? If you find 100 ways to fall down and learn something about how to be better from each and every one of them, I am MORE proud than if you’d gotten it right the first time and the second and 98 more.  Its a lot harder to get back up and try again when something is hard than when its easy.

And fifth, are you having fun?  This isn’t a job. You aren’t making a living here. Even if you want to be an Olympic gymnast someday, and I’d rather you didn’t, but if you did, you are a kid and this is an activity for exercise and play.  This should be fun.  That doesn’t mean you don’t have days where its work and hard and it hurts, but if you don’t get joy from flipping and flying in the air, then there’s no point to making you keep doing this once you’ve fulfilled your commitments.

And I said it loud.  Heck, for parts of it, I looked right at the dad…and at others, I looked at his daugher, because at that point she was looking at ME wide-eyed and perhaps a bit vaguely horrified.  The father, of course, was looking at me like he’d have shot me if only he had a gun in his Mercedes.  By then, the coaches (one of them, the owner) had come to see what was making everyone stare in our direction and call the girls (both of them to their respective practice), and the dad huffed off like any bully whose bullying has been foiled.  After class, I got a quiet thanks from the owner, who had heard what had happened and at least the end of what had been said.  For the next year, anytime I walked in with my kid, he walked out.

Afterwards, I wrote down what a paraphrased version of what I said because I thought it was something I wanted to keep telling them…which I have, though the wording has changed a bit.  I was reminded of this occasion though, because happened to be cleaning out some papers last week and found what I’d written it down upon!

I find myself coming back to this, now that I am about to complete a major milestone in my life, two years (plus some, in procrastination and preparation) in the making, and complete graduate school.

The Evolution of the 5 Questions

1) Did you do the best that you could do at the time? Let face it, somedays the best we can give is not our best. For that matter, somedays, “the best that I could do at the time” was not a damn thing… But overall, I’d like to think I do (there is no try, only do) the best we can that day, and the next day, and the next. AFAIC, that’s what I expect from the kids too–do the best you can do and move forward, no recriminations for a bad day, but no excuses either.

2) Did you work hard? …I used to ask if the kids if they worked their hardest, but let’s be honest, the words we use to explain things matter. No one is physically or mentally able to do 110% or even 100%, 24/7. Adults don’t do it, so the idea that it should be expected of a child is ridiculously hypocritical. Kids shouldn’t have expectations put on them by adults that adults can’t even bothered to achieve.

3) Did you look for the wisdom of those around you? When they were little, I asked them “Did you listen to your teacher/coach/etc.?” Its a question about teaching them that different people are athourities about different things, about behavior towards people with different expertises, in addition to value. But now that they are older, I want them to consider what else they can learn by paying attention to their surroundings, by seeing all people as potential contributors, and by considering all points of view, even those they might not agree with.  If you look for wisdom, you won’t always find it, but you will still learn something.

4) Did you find something of value from the experience? The earlier and simpler preK-1st/2nd grade version of this when they were little was “did you have fun?” As well all know, however, life is not all fun and games.  Part of growing up is learning that shitty things can still be valuable, that difficult things can be valueable, that painful (physical or mentally) things can be valueable. Its up to us to find the value in the things we have to do as much as in the things we want to do.

5) Did you learn from your mistakes and failures? And honestly, they know this is the most important question of the 5, because its the one that I expect a fully-formed and thoughtful answer on…and its one I’m not afraid to share with them. I think its our job as parents to model how we want them to be, but also to discuss when we don’t always live up to that ourselves and why.  I’m a big believer in parental fallibility–a parent should be honest about when they did something wrong, even in their role as a parent.  I think it makes your parenting more effective and I think it helps your kids respect you more as a human being that loves them and is doing their best rather than some untouchable paragon.

 

….And so, I can honestly say, yes.  I did the best that I was able. I worked hard. I learned a LOT, some of which was full of incredible wisdom. I found much of value, though right now my brain is mushy enough that I can’t remember it all.  And yes, I (mostly) learned from my mistakes and failures (except maybe the one of procrastination, because that is where true creativity lays, my friends…where it lays and where it lies…).

And now, not quite 1400 in the afternoon, it is time for a glass of wine.

 

WWDY: March for Science Edition

Tags

#marchforscience, #scienceactivism, activism, conservation, feminism, nature, protest, science, women in science

What We Did Yesterday:

Follow Your Jiminy Cricket

Tags

children, conscience, diversity, friendship, interfaith friends, pagan parenting, parenting

Chickadee was quieter than usual Monday afternoon, but it wasn’t until dinner time until I found out that another little girl in her class “can’t be friends anymore” because Chickadee isn’t a Christian.

Le sigh.  I knew this day would come eventually.  But 2nd grade?  Really?

What kind of asshole parent has their 8 year old so indoctrinated that they won’t play with kids that don’t do religion with Jesus?  Totally not WWJD, the hypocrites.  Can’t blame the little girl though, its the parents–what a smallness of spirit and an insecurity of the heart they must have.

Chickadee said the little girl asked her if she “could just pretend (to be Christian” to which Chickadee responded with “If I have to pretend to be something I’m not for you to be my friend, then you really aren’t my friend.”  When I asked what about it (being sad), she said, “Yes, but Mo-om, I have to follow my Jiminy Cricket” (meaning her conscience).

As a parent, I’m elated that my child is independent enough to stand up for herself…and I’m just a little bit heartbroken that not only is she losing a friend over this, but that a parent would put their child in a position to have to give up a friend because they are different.  That’s not how we have raised our children (but I can’t take all the credit–Chickadee is the kind of kid that takes on learning sign language in order to make friends with a little girl with a cochlear implant).  I can’t even fathom parenting that would seek to separate children from making friends on the basis of being different–what makes us beautiful is what makes us different.  And luckily that is not how most of her friends have been raised, since we are fortunate enough to live in a fairly diverse community (for the South).

But still.  This rankles.  And since I was concerned that this could become a problem for the rest of the school year, I spoke with her teacher after school on Tuesday to (as I put it to my mom) “to inform her of the situation, in case it became a problem”.

I think her teacher was more upset than I was.  As far as her teacher is concerned, not wanting to be someone’s friend because they belong to a different religion is “no different than choosing not to be someone’s friend because of their skin color” (and patently unacceptable in her classroom).   And, as far as the school is concerned, religion is something you talk about at home, not with your classmates.*  Chickadee informed me after school today that her class “got talked to” about those two concepts….

One of the challenges of Pagan parenting (or any parenting that isn’t in line with social norms) is helping foster the sort of confidence that lets a child stand up to their peers while maintaining an integrity to themselves (a second challenge was keeping Daddy from going nuclear over the threat to his precious pixie punk princess).

I can only hope that in the years to come she retains this ability–she is going to need it on many more fronts than this one.

*This is an approach that I understand, and can appreciate, if only because I can respect that it is easier (with all of the other crap schools and teachers have to deal with) to just not encourage it.  Although, I strongly think that schools should teach about world religions as a matter of fact, as part of world cultures, geography, history, and literature (the key words being teach , about, and fact)…something which is actually quite legal when done well , even in a public school setting.  Religious literacy is a crucial piece of cultural literacy and failing to teach about the basic facts of religions is a failing of our society.  With that having been said, I’m fairly sure that many US students would be failed (and I don’t mean in terms of grades) if if their schools did teach world religions (and I’m pretty sure this is a vicious cycle of ignorance).