Living in the Trenches: Successful Family Strategies from a Father of Nine (Yes, Nine) - Softcover
Whether you have one child or twelve (do you really have twelve?), they seem to come prepackaged with their own personality. You wonder how much nurture is going into this nature and how you’ll ever survive let alone thrive.
In the throes of raising nine children ages three through twenty one, Robbins, the Pater Familius of Familius.com has penned his thoughts on how to be happy while raising children in such a way that we embrace the imperfect system we call parenthood. We laugh, we cry, we debate and finally agree that parenthood is a unique and individual journey that reveals far more about ourselves than any other pursuit.
In the spirit of Paul Arden’s books on marketing, Robbins explores strategies, best practices, ideas, and the never-ending challenges of what it means to be a parent. In the end, he contends, family success and happiness is not only possible while raising children but is really all around us if we but stop, look, and listen.
In the throes of raising nine children ages three through twenty one, Robbins, the Pater Familius of Familius.com has penned his thoughts on how to be happy while raising children in such a way that we embrace the imperfect system we call parenthood. We laugh, we cry, we debate and finally agree that parenthood is a unique and individual journey that reveals far more about ourselves than any other pursuit.
In the spirit of Paul Arden’s books on marketing, Robbins explores strategies, best practices, ideas, and the never-ending challenges of what it means to be a parent. In the end, he contends, family success and happiness is not only possible while raising children but is really all around us if we but stop, look, and listen.
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About the Author:
Christopher Robbins is the founder and president of Familius, a publishing company focused on helping families be happy, and author of the daily blog on family life at www.familius.com/blog. He is the father of nine children who have experienced all of his successes and failures each day of their lives. They still love him. Robbins has been at the head of three different publishing companies prior to Familius and currently serves on the board of the Independent Book Publishers Association. He lives in Huntsville, Utah.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
“Perfect love sometimes does not come until the first grandchild.” – Welsh Proverb
On June 5, 1980, I boarded a DC-10 to Hawaii. I was twelve years old. Accompanying me was my 92-year-old, widowed grandfather. As we walked together down the Jetway, I heard my mother say, “That’s the blind leading the blind.”
The previous Christmas, I had written my grandfather a note that said before he died, I wanted to go to Hawaii with him. I had no idea why I had done this. I think I believed our time was short together. He was my best friend.
He was born in 1888 to a Danish immigrant and an American chef who could only sign his name with an ”X.” His education lasted only to the fifth grade when he had to begin work to support his family. He became a small entrepreneur and lived through the global flu epidemic, saw the invention of the automobile and the airplane, survived two world wars, experienced the Great Depression and eloped with the daughter of a well-to-do aristocratic pioneer family.
He never stopped learning and could be heard in his bedroom at age 88 studying Greek from old records.
In the spring of 1980, he sold two small diamonds he had in a safe and purchased a trip to Hawaii for the two of us. Surrounded by those thirty to forty years older than I, and thirty to forty years younger than my grandfather, we hopped from island to island, drank virgin pina coladas, watched slim girls in bikinis tan themselves, ate like kings, walked the sandy beaches and visited famous landmarks.
One night he asked me what kind of woman I wanted to marry. I said, “A pretty one.”
He told me that was fine and would be nice, but asked what else I wanted in a wife. I was twelve. What else was there? I hadn’t grown old enough to consider breast size. Money wasn’t a big deal. Education? School had just ended and was the furthest thing from my mind. A dowry? I didn’t know what that was.
He let me think and then began to teach me about what mattered in a relationship. He taught me about kindness, giving, strength, character, motherhood and the importance of patience. He talked about his late wife and told me how much he missed her and how she had made him a better man. He told me of his regrets and what he would do differently. He told me about love. He cautioned me to marry someone who would challenge me to be better than I was and to make sure I treated her like a queen.
He continued to bring up similar topics on Oahu, Kawaii, Molokai, Maui and all the other islands. In two short weeks, between his Mai Tais during Happy Hour, he gave me a Master’s course in what to look for in a companion. Again, I was twelve. It went over my head then, but some conversations stay with you. This one did.
We returned home on June 19, safe and sound, much to the relief of my mother. It was an epic adventure. Grandpa died six years later while undressing for the night in his apartment. He never got to see my bride and the family that we are raising. However, I think he’d be proud. I believe he might even think about those quiet nights, overlooking the Pacific Ocean thirty-two years ago and say, “Well, look at that. He listened.”
“Perfect love sometimes does not come until the first grandchild.” – Welsh Proverb
On June 5, 1980, I boarded a DC-10 to Hawaii. I was twelve years old. Accompanying me was my 92-year-old, widowed grandfather. As we walked together down the Jetway, I heard my mother say, “That’s the blind leading the blind.”
The previous Christmas, I had written my grandfather a note that said before he died, I wanted to go to Hawaii with him. I had no idea why I had done this. I think I believed our time was short together. He was my best friend.
He was born in 1888 to a Danish immigrant and an American chef who could only sign his name with an ”X.” His education lasted only to the fifth grade when he had to begin work to support his family. He became a small entrepreneur and lived through the global flu epidemic, saw the invention of the automobile and the airplane, survived two world wars, experienced the Great Depression and eloped with the daughter of a well-to-do aristocratic pioneer family.
He never stopped learning and could be heard in his bedroom at age 88 studying Greek from old records.
In the spring of 1980, he sold two small diamonds he had in a safe and purchased a trip to Hawaii for the two of us. Surrounded by those thirty to forty years older than I, and thirty to forty years younger than my grandfather, we hopped from island to island, drank virgin pina coladas, watched slim girls in bikinis tan themselves, ate like kings, walked the sandy beaches and visited famous landmarks.
One night he asked me what kind of woman I wanted to marry. I said, “A pretty one.”
He told me that was fine and would be nice, but asked what else I wanted in a wife. I was twelve. What else was there? I hadn’t grown old enough to consider breast size. Money wasn’t a big deal. Education? School had just ended and was the furthest thing from my mind. A dowry? I didn’t know what that was.
He let me think and then began to teach me about what mattered in a relationship. He taught me about kindness, giving, strength, character, motherhood and the importance of patience. He talked about his late wife and told me how much he missed her and how she had made him a better man. He told me of his regrets and what he would do differently. He told me about love. He cautioned me to marry someone who would challenge me to be better than I was and to make sure I treated her like a queen.
He continued to bring up similar topics on Oahu, Kawaii, Molokai, Maui and all the other islands. In two short weeks, between his Mai Tais during Happy Hour, he gave me a Master’s course in what to look for in a companion. Again, I was twelve. It went over my head then, but some conversations stay with you. This one did.
We returned home on June 19, safe and sound, much to the relief of my mother. It was an epic adventure. Grandpa died six years later while undressing for the night in his apartment. He never got to see my bride and the family that we are raising. However, I think he’d be proud. I believe he might even think about those quiet nights, overlooking the Pacific Ocean thirty-two years ago and say, “Well, look at that. He listened.”
“Perfect love sometimes does not come until the first grandchild.” – Welsh Proverb
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- PublisherFamilius
- Publication date2013
- ISBN 10 1938301218
- ISBN 13 9781938301216
- BindingPaperback
- Edition number1
- Number of pages162
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