Brains vc. Brawn

Lately I've been struggling with the fact that my kids are growing up as "city kids" - complete with the attitudes of city kids. Now don't get me wrong, my kids are fantastic. They are really good, for the most part, but every now and then, I find myself wondering if I'm raising a couple of wienies who can't stand getting dirty or being uncomfortable for more than 5 minutes.

My childhood was so different from theirs. I grew up on a cotton farm. For as long as I can remember, I spent my summers in the field. Before I started school, I played in the dirt on the turnrows while my 2 older brothers and parents hoed. Once I started school, then I was old enough to hoe my own rows, so I walked the cotton field with a hoe in my hand, chopping up weeds. During harvesting, I "tromped" cotton with my brothers - this was in the days before module builders so you had to physically mash all of the cotton you could into the trailers. You did this by jumping up and down on it - or "tromping" it.

I just remember it as a part of life - I didn't get paid for the work I did, it was expected as part of the family. I didn't have the opportunity to say "no" to going to the field. It never would have occurred to me, honestly. Some of my best memories are in the cotton field - chasing rabbits, catching lizards, singing silly songs. Yeah, it was hot and there were bugs and it was uncomfortable, but I never died. I survived it. And today I feel like I'm a stronger person for having grown up on a farm.

So when I think about my kids' life, I want them to have some of that. I want them to have a good work ethic. I want them to be strong in character. This week, they are at Grandma and Poppa's on the farm. I told my mom to take them to the field with them, to make them work and, heaven forbid, get a little uncomfortable. Of course, Grandma can't do that to those kids! Oh yes she can.

So as I'm talking to A about it - she tells me she doesn't want to go to the field. I tell her it's an opportunity to do something she's never done before, a chance to help Poppa with his crops, I tell her about all of the animals she might see. Still, Resistance. Whining. Squirming. Complaining. And she hasn't even stepped foot in the field yet. I tell her that going to the field will make her a stronger person.

She looks right at me and says "I don't want to be strong, I want to be smart." DOH!

I tell her she can be both! That she comes from a long line of strong women and she'd better just get used to being strong. Again, she tells me she'll be smart instead.

Finally, I pull out the big guns - I tell her that if I hear that she refused to go to the field, that she whined and complained, that she didn't work when asked to, then there would be no TV for the rest of the summer.

Resistance is Futile. Mom wins again.