a peek inside the fishbowl

Our two daughters have been employed since they were 14 and I can’t begin to describe how positive of an experience it has been for them. It’s also been great for us, the parents. Their wages contribute quite a bit to our household. It’s not as if they’re handing over their wages, that’s not what I mean at all, but it means that we’re not forking over an allowance or doing all of the heavy lifting as it pertains to saving for their university educations.

As an added bonus working teens are, obviously, gainfully occupied. Besides the financial incentive, they’re gaining responsibility and very important life skills, not to mention, getting a head start on their resumes and university applications.

But what if teens can’t find work or are under-employed (in other words, not working full-time hours over the summer)? I would love to start a conversation here and generate some ideas for parents who are looking for an answer.

Under-employed teens can’t realistically spend the summer lounging around the house and/or watching Netflix and surfing their Instagram accounts. Downtime is important and everyone deserves a break over summer, but binge-watching Buffy for the third time is neither a healthy nor productive way of spending that downtime.

I was at an event a couple weeks ago and Alyson Shafer, a therapist, published author, and parenting expert mentioned the idea of summer goals. I really liked this idea. I want my teens to choose their own activities and goals because as we all know, if the parents choose for them it’s doomed to fail.

So what can a teenager do over the summer? And how can we make this seem like it’s their idea? ;)

• Double-check their mandated volunteer hours and get ’em done.
• … or volunteer for a cause they are passionate about.
• They can teach themselves something new based on existing interests. It could be a new sport, cooking, sewing, drawing, ukulele, coding, animation, skateboarding. Anything!
• They can focus on getting active: download an app and undertake Couch-to-5K training, spend an hour walking with a new podcast every day, meet up with a friend to play tennis, do laps at the pool, sign up for yoga classes. How much can be accomplished in one hour every day? (Answer, more than you think.)
• They can start a side gig: dog walking/pet care, child care, lawn and yard maintenance, making jewelry, reselling vintage clothes. There are so many cool things they can do to earn a few extra bucks.
• Read! I don’t know if teens are reading enough, are they? I use Goodreads to track my reading and I have a yearly goal. It’s fun to challenge my friends and it gives me the added motivation to keep reading.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this issue. Are your teens busy this summer? What are they up to? Do you plan their busyness or do they? Or maybe your kids aren’t quite teens yet but you already have ideas. If so, I’d love to hear them.

How was your Canada Day? Ours was low-key, to say the least. We spent the afternoon lounging around my inlaws swimming pool and trying to stay hydrated. By the time the evening rolled around and we were home again we were too hot and tired to eat the BBQ dinner I had planned.

The heat wave put a bit of a damper on things on July 1. I just couldn’t bear the idea of going downtown to watch the fireworks even though it’s been a family tradition here at Casa Fishbowl ever since I can remember. I was the one who suggested we stay home, yet I think I am the saddest about not going.

I like the fireworks, but Canada Day fireworks, for me, is about more than just watching colourful explosions in the sky. I find the unity of it all very moving. The fireworks begin and the chattering crowd is silenced. There we all are, gathered in a crowd, with our faces lifted to the night sky, watching the same thing and feeling the same thing. It’s remarkable, really. The people here are young and old, rich and poor, new Canadians and longtime residents. For some, it’s their first time experiencing it, for others, it’s old hat but somehow made new every year. Somehow, people from all points along the political, religious, and economic spectrum share the same moment in time in pretty much the same way: with wonder, and joy in their hearts. Maybe because, for a short time, we are transported back to our childhoods. We ooh and ahh and elbow our friend or family member and say DID YOU SEE THAT and then look back up to see another burst that is somehow bigger, louder, more beautiful than the one that preceded it. How do they do that, anyway?

Too soon, there is one last hurrah and then it’s over. The black sky is grey with smoke. There’s applause; sometimes a spontaneous singalong of the national anthem. The crowd, which a moment before was a single unit, starts to dilute and separate. The shared moment is over, and I wonder, when will we all come together again?

Take 20 minutes and watch this if you need a smile today >> https://t.co/sd5Px2YbVv

— andrea tomkins (@missfish) June 22, 2018

• We Have Reached Peak Screen. Now Revolution Is in the Air, nytimes.com
• Where a Taboo Is Leading to the Deaths of Young Girls, nytimes.com
• Tess Holliday’s Health Is None of Your Business, self.com
• How to survive the teenage years: a parents’ guide, theguardian.com
• How can I convince my daughter to hang curtains in her street-facing window?, theglobeandmail.com
• 17 real-life would you rathers, I, a woman, have had to ask myself, mcsweeneys.net

On the nightstand: The Romantic, by Barbara Gowdy

… well, it’s not really the first day of summer holidays. Yesterday was the last day of school for many of my friends with younger kids but the eldest has been home from university for some time now and the youngest had her last exam of grade 11 last week.

For a few years, I had a blogging-related tradition that involved “live blogging” the first day of summer holidays. Mark reminded me of this post that I wrote on June 26, 2008. I had totally forgotten about that day.

Fast forward 10 years, to June 26 2018.

I got up, made coffee and had breakfast long before the girls got out of bed. They were binge-watching Queer Eye on Netflix while I decided whether to do my usual 5K powerwalk or go down to Westboro Beach to swim a few laps. I’ve never actually done that before. We’ve gone swimming there many times of course, but I’ve never gone alone with the intent of Swimming for Fitness. I put on my bathing suit, threw a coverup over top, and went on my way.

It was a pleasant walk, and it was quiet at the beach, although there were already a few families with buckets and shovels who’d obviously been there awhile. I spotted Robot Missions doing some testing, but there was no one in the water. It was early and the lifeguards weren’t on duty yet. I left my belongings in a pile on the sand and went in the water. It was cold at first, but after the initial dunking, my internal temperature stabilized.

I swam four laps along the back of the partitioned swimming area and called it a day. It’s weird. I used to enjoy swimming, a lot. I swam competitively when I was in middle school and part of high school. I used to love the feeling of the water, the steady rhythms of it all, but those feelings left me long ago and I can’t seem to bring them back again. I will also admit that  I am out of shape. The strength I used to feel cutting through the water was gone and it wasn’t even fun to try anymore.

I got out of the water, toweled off, and sat on the hill overlooking the beach while I dried off a bit. I walked back home, feeling slightly woozy and tried to figure out what the rest of the day would look like.

As it turned out, the rest of our “first” day of summer was pretty good. Us three girls (plus Piper) packed a lunch and set out for Lime Kiln Trail. (I should mention that I picked up freshly-baked croissants from a new bakery in Westboro called Mamie Clafoutis, which made the basis of some stellar ham and cheese sandwiches.)

We’d been to Lime Kiln lots of times as a family, but it was especially nice going back now that the girls are older. It’s a totally different experience. We walked past the ruins and completed the trail loop. There were garter snake sightings and lots of birds. We tried feeding the chickadees and nuthatches but they weren’t too interested. (What’s a group of nuthatches called? A NUTBATCH. Haha! #Familyjoke) It was hot and dry, and we were all bushed at the end of it. But like with any walk in the woods, there is a sense of accomplishment that comes with it.

In the evening we walked to MHK for sushi. We swore not to stuff ourselves again, but somehow we always end up breaking that promise. The food is too good here. We waddled home, happy and full. I’d say that was a pretty good first day of summer.

I am sitting on the back porch with my pen and notebook and the last of this year’s peonies. It’s hard to narrow it down to a list of TOP floral favourites, but if I had a top five, let’s say, peonies would be on it, along with violets, mini-pansies, tulips, and lily of the valley.

We have two kinds of peonies: white and pinky-purple with layers of ruffled petals.

The peony plants were here at the house when we first moved in, 21 years ago, and I gather they’ve been in the same spot for many years before that.

They grow happily along a south-facing wall, and as a result, they flower early. Some years, when I haven’t forgotten about them or they haven’t been pummeled by rain, I fill up all of our vases with bouquets of peonies. Sometimes I remember to shake the ants out of them.

It’s impossible not to love peonies. They are just, so, cheerful, but when I think about it, I realize that’s the reason all of those other flowers are on my list.

Every once in awhile their scent drifts towards me. The wind is softly rustling through the maple tree. The air smells fresh, and here, in the shade, I feel protected from the heat of the day. The neighbourhood is quiet for a change – no drills or circulating saws or heavy machinery today – just the occasional flip-flop of passers-by or the whir of a bike or the drone of a car. Even the birds have taken a break.

I am reminded of a promise I made to myself to live more mindfully. It’s easy to do in the shady oasis of our backyard. Even though I’m often frustrated by squirrel damage and my struggling tomato plant, or overwhelmed by weeds and watering, it’s probably my Happiest Place. Why do I have a tendency to forget this simple fact? Why can’t I find a way to spend more time here?