THE HORNEY VILLAGE
Stop thinking about your kids so much By Jessie Horney
O
bviously this is going to seem like an argument in defense of casual parenting, as most of my essays do, because I am quite often a casual parent (or rather, a parent actively trying to avoid the boredom of life as a caregiver); but I promise it’s not just that. It’s a little that. I’m only 8 years into parenting, which is laughable as far as a “here’s what I do” kind of thing, but I’m part of a big family, married into a big family, and have watched a lot of kids grow up. So really, I promise, this is mostly an argument in defense of raising good people, not good children. There is a difference, and I am passionate about the nuanced direction that splits those paths. My kids’ school district is a bit of a dumpster fire this year, changing pandemic response plans and schedules every few weeks since August. I don’t mind, because I will do anything to have these people in school and if that means staying flexible, then call me Gumby and pass the hand sanitizer. However, it is a lot of scheduling to keep straight, including a new “Monday early release” that started the same week my kids reentered society after the world’s
14 JAN/FEB 2021 | Idaho Family Magazine
longest quarantine due to my own COVID-19 case. (Feeling fine, thanks for asking! Check my Instagram if you want the full scoop, @jessie.horney.) I’m glad to get them home a few extra hours a week, so the early release is great, but remembering to leave two hours earlier than usual for pick up is challenging. I know, I know, “set a phone alarm.” My 8-year-old said the same thing, but I don’t always know where my phone is, to be honest, so even if the alarm is going off I might not hear it anyway. I was at a meeting this week when my phone vibrated in my coat pocket, and against my normal instincts I checked to see who was calling (I would normally check after the meeting) and whaddyaknow, it was the school secretary wondering if I was on my way. By the time I got out of the meeting and pulled into the school parking lot, my 1st and 2nd grader had been waiting 45 minutes in the front office. They shuffled their little walk of shame out to my car, and I called out sincerest apologies through my mask as the principle waved goodbye and we drove straight to the ice-cream shop, where I fed them chocolate sundaes with guilt sprinkled on top and told them that it builds character to
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