Austin Wimberly Archives - Mothering in the Middle

Back-to-School, But Why?
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Back-to-School, But Why?

Adoption, Commentary, Daily Living, Rituals & Spirituality

Back-to-School, But Why?

by Austin Wimberly

The end of summer approaches, and vacations that took months of planning are now nestled in camera rolls of our iPhones. The baseball season that began with hope for every team now holds promise for a remaining few. And, the season for summer squash and tomatoes is coming to a close. But, as with all things in life, the end of one chapter marks the beginning of another. With the coming fall, we look forward to football, the changing of the leaves, and school.

It’s natural to be nostalgic at the beginning of the school year. The next incremented grade is a hard number that reminds us that our little ones are taking slow but inexorable steps towards adulthood. For some of us, there aren’t many more steps to take. As those steps slowly add up, we parents hope that we’ve given our children the education they’ll need to make it in that adult world. […]

The Bridge Years

by Austin Wimberly

When I was in my thirties, I remember some of the forty-year-olds at work talking about getting older. They would talk about how their metabolism had slowed, how their hair was thinning, how youth was wasted on the young. And they would sort of give each other those knowing looks that seemed to say “Hang in there” or “It’ll be alright.” I chalked up this overheard confiding to a kind of bonding over Prufrockian misery.

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The Value of “Tuck-Ins”

by Austin Wimberly

There’s a saying in the South that goes, “If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” I was raised on this aphorism and felt it acutely around special occasions such as Christmas, Mom’s birthday, and, of course, Mother’s Day.

Growing up, it was always interesting to me that the same amount of fastidiousness wasn’t applied to Dad’s birthday or to Father’s Day. As a boy, this seemed demonstrably unfair, but as I’ve gotten older and entered the ranks of parents, I think I understand why the disparity exists. I think it has to do with our need for a protection that is both intimate and nurturing.

Now, right off the bat, I can hear the internet criticizing this opinion. “Men can be just as intimate as women,” the web might say. Or “This opinion of yours that mothers are more nurturing than fathers is sexist.” And I am sure there are millions of counter-examples to refute everything I’m going to write. […]

Train Up a Child

by Austin Wimberly

Train up children in the way they should go, and when they are old they will not depart from it.” I grew up in a religious household, and this verse from Proverbs was one of the more oft-quoted sayings around our home. The interpretations of this idea are manifold, but the favorite one of my parents was that if they were diligent in teaching me the tenets of their faith, then, when I got older, I would be one of the faithful.

It’s a reasonable thought, but in my case, it didn’t quite work out that way.

Another way of thinking of about this verse is that, perhaps, it is speaking to discipline. If we, as parents, set well-defined boundaries like bedtimes and dietary rules (you have to eat your vegetables, etc.) and encourage our children to be ethical little people, then one day they will grow up to be ethical big people who go to bed at reasonable hours and live relatively healthy lives. This is another plausible concept, but I’m not convinced it works in every case. […]

Questions

by Austin Wimberly

As a parent, I am used to my children asking questions. Thankfully, most of the ones they ask are easily answered. What’s for dessert? Usually ice cream. Can I stay up just a little longer? Usually no. What is the capital of Wyoming? Always Cheyenne.

But there are some questions that my children ask that require more thought. Why is a negative times a negative a positive? How do I know I’m really me? Why are flowers pretty? And then there are questions that have no answer. It is this last kind of question that has been with my family for a decade. […]