Something's Gotta Give

A long time ago, before I had kids, my friend Melinda and I went to see the movie American Pie. For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s a silly, childish film rife with gratuitous nudity and sex. Although I admittedly laughed at many of the scenes, I also squirmed. A lot. Not because I couldn’t handle the material (I'm a 12-year-old at times, too), but because right in front of us a woman and her friend brought their two children, who could not be more than 5 years old, to the show.

I had the same uncomfortable feeling when my husband and I went to see the movie I Am Legend a while back. There is no sex in that movie but there are scenes so scary even I jumped out of my seat. A few rows away a man and his wife plopped two children, one was 3 years old and the other 2 years old, next to them.

Are you kidding me, people?

Here’s what upsets me most about those two situations. I paid good money to enjoy an adult-rated film. I expected to be in a room full of people my age (even teenagers next to me would have been okay) or older. But having these kids in the theater completely ruined the experience for me. While watching I Am Legend I could not help but think of my own children and how they would have nightmares for a month if they were allowed to see the scary scenes in that film. In American Pie I flashed back to my own horrible memory of when my parents took me to a movie I shouldn’t have seen (click here if you haven’t read that post).

Shouldn’t movie theaters prevent very young children from seeing those films? I know the ratings say “No child permitted without an adult,” but shouldn’t they go one step further and say, “No child permitted under the age of 16”?

I could not help worrying about those kids while I watched. I didn’t want to – but they were so close I could hear and see them. Should I have moved? Should I have complained?

More importantly, what the hell is wrong with their parents for letting them see such inappropriate films? I’m not debating whether you should allow them in PG-13 films (but, hello, even that has an age limit that is older than the kids I saw). I’m talking about adult films, people. Would you bring your preschooler to a strip club? (If you answered yes, I worry about you.)

Just to clarify, this is what the Motion Picture Association says about the R rating: an R-rated motion picture, in the view of the Rating Board, contains some adult material. An R-rated motion picture may include adult themes, adult activity, hard language, intense or persistent violence, sexually-oriented nudity, drug abuse or other elements, so that parents are counseled to take this rating very seriously. Children under 17 are not allowed to attend R-rated motion pictures unaccompanied by a parent or adult guardian. Parents are strongly urged to find out more about R-rated motion pictures in determining their suitability for their children. Generally, it is not appropriate for parents to bring their young children with them to R-rated motion pictures.

Talk to me, people. Tell me what you think about this.

(If you are interested in reading about which films are appropriate for your children, go to KidsInMind.com. This Web site offers a play-by-play of all the sexual content, violence and other inappropriate scenes for kids. I use it all the time and find it extremely helpful.)

Counting the Days

There’s an ad for Staples on television I saw a few years ago that, to this day, makes me laugh out loud. It shows a man skipping down the aisles of a store pushing a shopping cart. You can hear the song, “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” playing in the background. Walking slowly and sadly behind him are the man’s two children. An announcer comes over the music and says, “It’s that time of year again. It’s ‘Back to School!’”

I love that commercial because I feel exactly the way the father feels. I cannot wait for school to begin again. I realize I am one of the rare few who feels this way, but I can’t help myself. My children, raised by an intractable mother, do much better with routine. They enjoy knowing what each day will bring, and on days when the program is empty, they get restless and annoyed.

I know just how they feel.

I, too, appreciate a productive day. If I had a choice between working my fingers to the bone and sitting at a humdrum desk job, I would immediately pick the former. I cannot stand having nothing to do.

A close friend of mine recently got laid off. Her husband told her to “take it easy” for a while and enjoy some time to herself. “I can’t,” she told him. “I don’t like just hanging around the house.”

Amen, sister. Yes, I look forward to the weekends where I can pick up a newspaper, sip coffee and chat with my husband. But if I did that every single day I would go slowly insane. I feel good when I cross things off my to-do list. I am overwhelmed by a massive sense of accomplishment.

So yes, summer is fun and I do enjoy being able to spend a day at the park now and then. But three months of that? No thanks.

This last week of summer vacation will be excruciatingly long. (It will also be complicated by having to wait around for handymen and exterminators, but that is a subject for another post.) But I’m hoping to get through it by having something to do each day. I bought a couple of workbooks for the kids to do each morning so they get used to the idea of having to do schoolwork. Although I’m already a sleep Nazi, I have allowed them a few late nights over the summer. Those are coming to an abrupt halt and I plan on tucking them in bed by 7:30 p.m. each night. (More time for me!) I will try and schedule some fun afternoons, either at the pool or the park, because hey, let’s not pop every balloon they have, right? And while my kids are enjoying the last moments of their holiday, I will be dreaming of the week ahead.

Photo by Sophie, courtesy of stock.xchng

The List

When I was 17 and I broke my leg I had to tell the story of how it happened a million times to people I just met. I got so sick of explaining how it got broken (click here if you want know) that I eventually wrote the story on an index card and gave it to anyone who asked.

I wish I could do something similar for my children. I would include the following statements:

1. No.
2. I said, “No.”
3. Put your plate in the dishwasher.
4. Brush your teeth.
5. Wash your face.
6. Wash your hands.
7. Speak nicely to me.
8. Put your toys away.
9. Go outside and play.
10. Leave Mommy alone for five minutes.
11. Don’t talk to me when I’m on the phone.
12. Wait until (X) is finished.
13. Stop screaming.
14. Wash your hands.
15. I said, “Stop screaming!”
16. Chew with your mouth closed.
17. Wipe your face, please.
18. Please. Wipe your face.
19. Wash your hands.
20. Wash your hands.
21. Wash your hands!

Tell me, folks, what’s on your list?

post script: I have no idea what's going on with Blogger and the crazy font problem, but I'm trying to figure it out. Until then, please bear with me. Thanks!

Home

As most of you readers know, I spent a fabulous week at the beach with my husband and kids. What I did not realize (for a while, because clearly I’m a little slow) is that this was the very first vacation we have taken as a family alone. The. Very. First. Meaning, every other time we have gone away we have either been with friends or family. Never once have we packed up and gone on a trip with just the four of us.

Are we nuts?

Here’s the thing: I enjoy the company of friends and family. And my children really enjoy having playmates to see every day. It makes life easier when they are entertained and makes the nighttime less mundane when you have another couple (or two, or three) with whom you can talk.

Because we have gotten into the routine of planning trips around seeing people we love, it just never occurred to my husband and me to make any other plans.

But here’s what I learned: as much as I adore my friends and family, going away by ourselves is crucial to my mental health. Thankfully my children have found a playmate in each other and they will play for hours together, so I don’t hear bickering or complaints of boredom. Another thing I noticed is how completely stress-free this trip was. If I didn’t feel like washing my dish, I didn’t. If I didn’t feel like making a nice meal for dinner, I didn’t. If I didn’t feel like showering immediately, I didn’t. In fact, I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to because there wasn’t the pressure of bending to other people’s schedules.

The freedom was liberating.

I feel much more calm now than I have in a long time and guess what? I looked around at my husband and children and thought. “Hey, I really like these people. I’m really lucky to have them.” Who knew what a gift a simple holiday could bring?

I still want to take trips with my friends and family and still enjoy hanging out with them. But I also know we need to take at least one family-only trip each year from now on. We bond and learn more about each other. We laugh a lot. And we are happier.

Hate The One You're With

What’s that saying? You know, it goes: “If you teach a kid to hate….” Oh. Wait. That’s a saying about a fish. Is there a good slogan for teaching intolerance and hate? Why yes, there is. Thanks for asking. Here it is:

“Islam Is Of The Devil.”

Remember the post I wrote about a pastor who posted a sign with that exact wording outside his church? Well guess what? He had shirts made so his flock could distribute the hate! Wasn’t that smart? A student (turns out she’s the loving pastor’s daughter) at Talbot Elementary School in Gainsville, Florida, wore the shirt on the first day of school (boy, that was brilliant. How else could convince her friends to join her xenophobia?) and was sent home for violation of the school district's dress code.

If you want to see the colorful attire for yourself, click here. It’s so sweet – the child and her dad are walking together and both are donning a Shirt of Hate. (He must be a really good teacher.)

To read more about the girl's antics, click here.

So Let Go, Jump In

One of the hardest parts about raising kids for me was forcing myself to let go. When Aimee was 18 months she insisted on dressing herself. Lily did the same when she was around 2 and a half or 3 years old. Sometimes they would come downstairs in matching outfits, but many times they would come down as if they dressed in the dark. I read a lot about allowing kids to make their own decisions (and how doing so establishes self-esteem), so I bit my tongue. “Oh, look how colorful you are today!” I said.

I also sent my children to a Montessori preschool because I agreed with the Montessori method. I knew I wanted my girls to become independent and by doing so, I also knew that meant I had to allow them to perform tasks at home as well as at school. As early as age 3 my girls were given chores. Each morning they had to get up, make their beds, put away their pajamas and get dressed. Because they were allowed to pour their drinks at school they expected to be able to do the same at our house (and they do). I fill a drawer full of crackers and snacks so when they are hungry they can get those things themselves. I finally taught them how to wash fruit and vegetables, too. (I still have to cut it, although I am counting the days to teach them how to do that as well.)

Those who know me know I’m also a control freak. I don’t like messes, I want beds to be made nicely and I want spills kept to a minimum. Yet I knew if I wanted my girls to be proud of their accomplishments I had to rein in my own expectations, and doing so was really hard. There were times when I honestly thought my head would burst because I couldn’t say, “Here, let me do that.” I saw how they made their beds and wanted to badly to go over and fluff the pillow or fix the quilt (but I didn’t because I knew by doing so I would only crush their tiny spirits). I have watched as glasses of milk tumbled off the kitchen table and smiled. “It’s just a spill,” I’d say. “You know what to do. Go get a rag and clean it up.” (Later, when they were away, I’d go over the mess because let’s face it, milk is sticky and needs to be cleaned up well.)

I am caught between wanting them to do it themselves (because I am sick of having to do everything) and wanting to do it myself (because it will be perfect). What I realize is by giving them tiny amounts of responsibility they are beginning to grow more and are also getting more secure in what they do on their own.

The other day Lily said she wanted to help me dry the dishes. “Me too!” said Aimee. I handed them each a dishtowel and gave them stacks of plastic containers to dry. “This is fun!” Lily said. “Yeah!” Aimee concurred.

“Mommy, when I’m nine I’m going to wash all the dishes for you,” Lily said.

Eureka.

We go to the library every week to get books for Lily’s summer reading list. Aimee picks out her own as well. I got them their own library card and instead of hauling the books to the librarian myself, I hand them their cards and say, “Go check them out.” They proudly carry their selections to the desk and wait in line to be checked out. Their faces are beaming because they are doing something on their own. I don’t hover over them; instead I wait for them at the other end of the children’s section. “Did you use your manners?” I ask. “Yep!” they say.

Very soon I am going to allow my second grade daughter to walk to school. By herself. I will walk her there for the first week or so to see how she does and how many other folks will be on her path. But I’ve decided to go for it. (My decision came after reading Lenore Skenazy’s book, Free Range Kids, and talking it over with my husband, who agreed.) I walked to school as early as kindergarten and I see no reason why I can’t let Lily walk to school as well. I will call some of the other moms to ask if we can get a few girls (or boys) to walk with her, but if not, so be it. The walk is a straight shot (10 minutes) down a busy road (she will walk on a sidewalk). She will pass two crossing guards along the way. Am I scared to let her do it? You bet I am. I read the same stories you do and hear the urban myths as well.

I refuse to live life that way.

Thankfully Skenazy has done the research for me (she’s a journalist) and has proven that crime is actually as low as it was in 1970 and in my town, where we had only one violent crime in a year (yes, one), I am thinking Lily will be okay.

I know by letting her do things on her own she will develop confidence and street smarts. I traveled the world – many times by myself, even to remote countries – and I am wiser and more street savvy because of it.

Thinking about letting your child walk to school? Click here to learn about the Kids Walk To School program and to read statistics on just how safe it really is to let your child walk to school.

Photo by merve toprak, courtesy of stock.xchng

Explanations

Sometimes I forget that my children are, well, children. I have always spoken to them as if they were adults and I realize by doing so, a lot has gotten lost in translation.

When I was a child I was always told to do things and rarely was I given an explanation. Aside from the obvious dangers (“Don’t touch the oven because it’s hot,” or “Wear a hat because it will keep you warmer in winter,”) I was basically just given orders. “Because I said so,” is what my parents said to me.

I admit I’ve said those words before (but usually after Aimee has asked, “Why?” a few million times and I couldn’t take her flipping interrogation any longer). However, I realize kids mostly just want to know the reasons why you say what you say because they want to know if we are leading them down the right path or just being controlling. (Damn. Kids are awfully smart sometimes.)

Take, for example, our recent trip to the beach. We rented the top floor of a duplex and below us was another family with older kids (whom we did not know). My girls are early risers (damn them) but for an hour or so in the morning they would just play nicely in their room. That meant, however, that by 8 o’clock they were ready to come out and have breakfast. Well, when I was a teenager, 8 o’clock was the middle of the night to me. So as my kids would run up and down the hallway, I found myself saying, “Walk! Stop making all that noise!” They stared at me as if I just grew tentacles. I realized they didn’t understand why I wanted them to pipe down. So I explained how there was a family with older kids living below us, and how those kids did not get up until at least 11 o’clock in the morning (I dream of that day). Their eyes widened at this idea and they both said, “Really? That late? That’s crazy!” (Okay, I thought. I’ll be reminding you of this in a few years.) Because they understood why I asked them to tiptoe instead of stomp they were much more willing to obey the rules and tried their best to be quiet (with a couple reminders. I’m talking about young, forgetful girls, after all.)

“You know, their defiance will serve them well later in life,” my husband said to me while we were driving in the car one day. “Because many of ‘the rules’ are totally stupid.”

Could be. But what’s more idiotic is having to go through life being told to listen without being told why. I am now more aware when I tell my children to do something that I need to explain why (in short, clear sentences) they need to listen to what I’m saying. At least they will know there is almost always a method to my madness.

Photo by Dani Simmonds, courtesy of stock.xchng

I See London, I See France...

Aimee, ever since she was potty trained at age 2, puts on her underwear backwards. Considering she will be 5 in November, that’s a long time to sport a wedgie. Some days I just ignore seeing her tiny bottom peeking out, but most days I say, “Aimee, fix your underwear.”

One day, after wondering if she did it out of spite or just because she didn't give a rat's patootie, I just had to ask. “Aimee, doesn’t that feel weird? I mean, doesn’t it bother you to have your underwear crammed in your tushie?”

She laughed and said, “No, Mommy. It doesn’t bother me at all.”

Well, I decided, if it doesn’t bother her, why should it bother me?

I have to remind myself that everything with this child comes full circle and therefore, I need to watch what I say. Yesterday I was getting dressed and – sorry to over share – put on a bra and panties. The underwear was actually a thong, and when Aimee came in, she saw me and said, “Mommy! Your underwear is on backwards!"

"No, it's not," I said, knowing where this conversation was headed.

"But, I can see your tushie!” she said.

I started laughing because, after all, I have been saying those very words to her for years. How do I explain what a thong is to a 4-year-old child?

I smiled and said, “These are a special type of underwear called a ‘thong.’ They’re supposed to show your bottom.”

“Why?” she asked. (Why, indeed.)

“Because I don’t like my underwear to show through my clothes, and if you wear regular underwear with certain things, it shows. When you wear a thong, no one can see your underwear.”

She nodded and continued to stare at my thong, which made me grow increasingly uncomfortable.

“Oh,” she said.

Photo courtesy of stock.xchng

I'm So Outta Here

Finally.

We are taking a much-needed trip to the beach and I'll be back posting online next Sunday, August 23. Until then, hope you all enjoy the rest of summer.

Say What?

I heard a disc jockey say something really funny the other day (at least to me it was funny). She was ranting about how people are constantly misspelling the word “lose.” She said she was getting faxes and e-mails with the word spelled l-o-o-s-e. People would write in and say to her, “I’m loosing my mind!” She went on and on about how she was going to lose her own flipping mind if people did not start figuring out the difference between lose and loose.

Dear DJ, I think I love you.

She hit quite a nerve with me. (Excuse me a second. I am just steadying myself on a self-appointed holier-than-thou stool. Okay. Ready.)

I am constantly amazed at how bastardized the English language has become. I don’t believe we should speak the Queen’s English but I am horrified by how poorly our children are being taught to speak (look, I don’t mind the Brits, and even have a few good English friends, but could they just get off their flipping high horse already when it comes to Americans and how we ruined the language? I like to be the only lofty equestrian, if you don’t mind).

Have you ever watched an episode of Sesame Street? Half the people (and puppets) on that show can barely piece a sentence together properly. (“Me want cookie?” Come on! Cookie Monster is supposed to be at least 3 years old, right?) And Dr. Seuss, everyone’s favorite children’s book author? He constantly spells the word ‘cannot’ this way: can not. (I see that word printed incorrectly all the time, by the way, especially in children’s books. It drives me “in sane.”)

My friend J said her son got angry with her because he said she was pronouncing the word “odd” incorrectly.

“No, I’m not,” J said to him.

“Yes you are, Mom,” he said. “It’s pronounced ‘awd.’”

J just sighed. (Turns out her son’s teacher has a thick New Jersey accent.)

And while we’re on the subject, let’s chat about a few of my other conversational pet peeves:

• It’s “I couldn’t care less,” not “I could care less.” The point is that you care so little you COULD NOT care any less.

• It’s use, not utilize. (I’m stealing this from my husband, who is an editor. He hates the word ‘utilize’ because it’s an incorrect use of the word. Ha! Use. Get it?)

• Believe it or not, it’s pronounced short-lived, the ‘i’ being a strong ‘i’ (as in I) not ‘ih.’ Same with long-lived. I know. It sounds stupid. Start saying it, though.

• It’s forte, not for-tay.

• It’s foyer, not foy-yay.

• It’s bootie, not boo-tay. (Just kidding. I only wanted to see if you were paying attention.)

• The question is, “Where are you?” not, “Where are you at?”

I could go on and on, but then I would probably make a mistake and get e-mails from smarter friends who said, “Um, yeah. Remember when you said….?”

I did some research and discovered I’m not the only one whose nerves get frayed over word usage. Click here to read some good examples (using “there” instead of “their,” such as “I found there dog at my house.” Oh, and make sure to check out number 10!)

Click here to see The Inigo Montoya Guide to 27 Commonly Misused Words, a humorous look at the most commonly misused words on blogs (including one I just remembered: irregardless. It’s regardless, never irregardless.)

For a glance at the six words even educated Americans misuse most, click here.

Another great resource for annoying people like me is a book called There’s No Zoo in Zoology (because, people, it’s pronounced zow-(as in low)-ology).

And, because I know I’m far from perfect (well, not that far), I admit I make a few mistakes as well (okay, a lot). So please post a comment and add your own annoyances, including grammatical and conversational irritations, as well as any you’ve seen on this blog. (Go on. I can take it.)

Photo by Christian Ferrari, courtesy of stock.xchng

I'm Talkin' Here!

I’m about to say something that is going to annoy quite a few folks out there (gee, there’s a twist), but that’s never stopped me before so here goes: why do so many people get upset when people talk on their cell phones in public?

Hear me out before you quickly jump to the comment form. I have a cell phone and frankly, I love it so much if it were a man it would be my lover. I am able to check e-mail, send text messages (yes, I am that hip), record voice memos and take photos all with one simple little device. (I’m getting giddy just thinking about my little sweetheart.) But what I love most is being able to catch up with friends when I have a moment to myself, either in the car, when I’m doing the grocery shopping or when I’m getting a pedicure. I am very aware that I am talking on the phone, so I’m not one of those annoying people who talks at louder-than-indoor-voice level. In fact, I keep my voice down and pull the headpiece closer to my mouth so I don’t pollute the air with my conversation. But talk I will, dammit, and I am sick of people shooting me glances as if I just spit in their mouths. I’m just laughing with my girlfriends, folks, I’m not making a pass at your husband.

Today I was getting a pedicure and my friend Lisa called me. (Yo, Lis!) I hadn’t spoken to her for a while and wanted to catch up. There were a few regular ladies in the nail salon I frequent and in the corner the local newscast was broadcasting loud enough for everyone to hear (talk about annoying – how relaxing is it when you hear about a five car pile-up?). When my phone rang, I answered it and spoke quietly, but several times I feel the frosty glaze of women who stared at me as if I just peed in the tub.

I ask you: what is the difference between chatting with a friend sitting next to me (at a normal level, which with my big mouth is loud enough for everyone to hear) and talking (at a much lower level) on the phone to a pal?

Folks, I wasn’t raised by a yeti. I know it’s not polite to talk on the phone when I’m in someone’s home or when I have company over. I also know it’s not polite to have an intimate conversation at the deli counter. But if I want to catch up with a girlfriend while selecting pasta from the shelf I’m damn well going to do it, like it or not. So quit staring at me. It just makes me use more minutes.

Image by Yamamoto Ortiz, courtesy of stock.xchng

So Lonely

There are some hilarious women out there on the Internet. Some of the mom blogs I have read have me wishing I could meet those writers in person so we could have our own kaffeeklatcsch. When I try to find such women in person around town, I come up completely empty handed.

Where are you, hilarious, smart, savvy women? And why don’t you all live in my town?

I watched the Sex and the City movie last night (for the second time, admittedly). While Carrie tried on a million dresses from the ‘80s I couldn’t help but wonder where my girlfriends like hers were. Yes, I have a couple of gal pals nearby whose friendship I cherish, but overall, I feel kind of lonely. The sad reality is the times when I have met moms whose company I enjoy I also discover several obstacles that will keep us apart. I realize our kids are of completely different ages (and hanging out would be boring for all the children involved); or our parenting is so contrary (and their kids kind of scare me so I cannot fathom hanging out with them during the day); or we live too far apart to get together often.

I should find a hobby, I guess.

I mentioned in a previous post about how I attended an all-women’s college and how I am still close with my pals from that time period. What I don’t understand is how I can get to this phase in my life and not have made new friends like those I had at Mills. One mom I know last week told me she was going on a trip with four other families from town. “We do this every year,” she said. “It’s really fun.”

I bet. (Thanks for rubbing it in, lady.)

Yesterday a friend of my husband’s who recently moved to a nearby town came by. I was watching her sons while she went to the doctor and when she returned we spoke about her new neighborhood. “It’s great,” she said. “There are a ton of kids on the street, which is fun for the boys.” She also said that everyone on and around her street has come by with baked goods or presents to welcome them to the neighborhood.

“We have to move,” I told my husband. “This town sucks.”

When we moved here five years ago we did not have the reception our friends had. Only one person came to our door when we moved in, and they have since moved away (they didn’t even have a gift with them, just a hello. Sheesh.) We are only peripherally friends with a few neighbors, but everyone else just keeps to themselves (and many of our neighbors are senior citizens. Can you believe they don't even offer to babysit? I thought old people lived for that).

Lily is starting a new school next year and I’m hoping she will meet new friends whose parents I haven’t already met in town. I also hope those folks will have a lot in common with my husband and me. I also hope they aren’t annoying and awful. Okay, okay, I’m asking too much already.

A gal can dream, can’t she?

Photo by Mateusz Stachowski, courtesy of stock.xchng

Live With It

When I was younger every girl I knew parted her hair in the middle. I, of course, did the same. I insisted my mother cut my hair into a Dorothy Hamill hairdo and blow it out straight (which took ages – my hair is unruly and totally curly).

If you saw how ridiculous I looked back then, you would given my mom a huge pat on the back and said, “You deserve a medal.”

My mother, however, would have waved off the compliment because she had a hard time watching me wear my hair the way I did and used to beg me to part my hair on the side. I had (and still have) a very large forehead, and the middle part made it appear billboard size. Yet I, being a strong-willed child, insisted on the Marcia Brady look. “It’s the fashion, Mom,” I said to her, my voice caked in attitude. She smiled politely and tried, every chance she could, to dissuade me. I didn’t start parting my hair on the side until high school, which was about eight years later.

I now know my mom must have uttered a million curses under her breath because not only have I been “blessed” with two strong-willed girls, they also insist on doing their own hair in unkempt styles that sometimes border on insane-looking. But I, knowing how futile it is to ask them to change, most days just bite my tongue. (I spoke up when Lily, who found one of those elastic headbands, put it on so badly I couldn’t tell if she was an extra in Olivia Newton-John’s “Physical” video or just in a bad ‘80s band. I taught her how to put it on properly – four different times, because she didn't listen, as usual – and finally gave up. Friends, please forgive any future holiday photos you may see of us.)

I also now know how annoyed my mom must have been to watch me walk out the door looking the way I did. My daughters were both born with hair I would kill to have. Lily has loose curls that are easily manipulated into soft waves or corkscrews, depending on how you style them. Aimee has tighter curls but her hair is thick, soft and long. Lily insists on pulling her hair back into a ponytail so she can get her hair straight (which sort of works) and Aimee demands that her hair be put into a braid, a low ponytail or a bun. She sports those three styles exclusively and almost never wears it down (the way I wish she would wear it). This morning, in an effort to try wearing it down, she wet it and brushed it back. There is no part, no rhyme or reason. It looks absolutely ridiculous.

“Do you like my hair?” she asked, taking the back of her hand and sweeping her hair behind her back the way Cher did in the 1970s. I smiled. “Yep,” I said. She flashed me a grin and went straight to the mirror to check herself out.

By now my tongue is full of holes and I am getting crow’s feet from all the fake smiles I toss their way. I know one day they will figure it all out but man, will our family portrait always look like I gave birth to crazy children?

Hey, That's Your Job

Last year a mother I knew told me she wanted to take her 4-year-old out of the Montessori preschool our children both attend. She was upset because her daughter could not write her name. (By the way, the girl has nine letters in her name, so it's not like she couldn't write the name 'Sara.')

“I mean, doesn’t that seem ridiculous to you?” she asked me.

Yes, I thought, but not for the reasons she thinks. I am not a teacher (I will be a substitute teacher in the fall) but I have volunteered in the classroom enough times to know what isn’t a teacher’s job. The way I see it is this: if you want your child to know her alphabet, write her name, start to read and do well in math, it’s your job as a parent to foster that knowledge. I just don’t believe parents should rely on a teacher to do those things for them.

But raising a genius is exactly what this woman – and many other parents I know – demand of teachers. And I believe these people have unrealistically high expectations.

I understand it may be hard for working parents to sit down with their children and teach them the alphabet or how to write. If that is the case, they should have a long discussion with the child’s primary caregiver (be it a nanny or a daycare) to make sure their child will receive that instruction during the day. But this mom – a stay-at-home mom – has absolutely no excuses. We have the luxury – yes, luxury – of being able to be home with our kids and we can provide them the tools they need to succeed in school. How fortunate are our children to spend all that time talking with us, learning from us and gaining knowledge that we as parents can give them?

Now, this blog isn’t called A Reluctant Mom for nothing. I didn’t plan on being a stay-at-home mother, and I certainly did not plan on home schooling them (nor will I. Ever). But I take my job as a parent as seriously as I would a job in a corporation. I believe part of my job description is to help my children learn and I don’t delegate that job solely to their teacher.

Have you ever been in an elementary school classroom? Those places are not for the lily-livered. Some children are well behaved, but many cannot sit still, talk incessantly, bully others and are the class clown. The teacher is surrounded by anywhere from 18 to 22 children (those numbers alone are daunting) and they must juggle all those personalities while trying to educate them on the basic math, writing and reading skills. If you as a parent cannot figure out how to do that with only two kids, imagine how difficult it must be for the teacher. (And once the kids get into middle school, forget it. They become a hormonal, walking nightmare.) And if your child is somehow not getting the education he or she deserves, spend some time figuring out why. Have a conference with the teacher. Figure out just what steps are necessary to have your child succeed. But don't blame the teacher. It's not entirely his or her fault your child is not Einstein.

A woman I mentioned in an earlier post (whose child had to wear leg braces and had a speech impediment) was bemoaning the fact her second child will have the same teacher as her first did for kindergarten. I said, “Lily loved that teacher.” She said, “I just think she is scattered, not very organized and bores the kids,” she said.

She went on to say how this teacher did not know her daughter was left-handed. I listened as she belittled the instructor, thinking about what the teacher had noticed. If it weren’t for this particular teacher the woman would not have done something about the girl's toe walking and would never have gone to the orthopedic surgeon. If this teacher had not said something about the girl's unintelligible speech the woman would not have spoken to the therapist.

“So what if she didn’t know she was left-handed?” I asked.

The woman’s eyes opened wide. “Are you kidding?” she asked. “She might have needed different scissors!”

Um, okay. And the girl was somehow incapable of asking for them?

I’m not letting teachers entirely off the hook. I know there are some out there that only do the bare minimum and whose children suffer as a result. I’m just saying parents should be more involved and not rely entirely on teachers to raise their kids.

Photo by Zsuzsanna Kilián, courtesy of stock.xchng

Lesson Learned

I had the most interesting day at the police station yesterday. (That got your attention, didn’t it?) We bought a used car from a dealer (keep the jokes to yourself, please) who took off with our title and license. This wasn't some shady car seller - he had been in business for 20 years and ran into financial trouble. But rather than deal with it properly, he stiffed us and about 40 (or more) others, including a former policewoman who dropped her car of to be repaired (he actually took her car with him). Thankfully we have proof that we paid in full for the car and didn’t do anything (more) stupid such as buy an extended warrantee from him. And thanks to a beautiful New Jersey law, we car consumers are protected and will get our title within a week. (Hurray!)

I had to take the kids with me to the police station in the town were we bought the car, which is about 30 minutes away. On the way to the station I said to the girls, “Listen. This is a very important thing I am going to do. I want you to sit quietly and wait until I am finished. No getting up, no dancing around. Just sit and be quiet until I say it’s time to go. Understood?” They both said yes. When we got to the door I repeated my expectations.

Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot say this enough times: when you state your expectations clearly and concisely, kids most times will step up to the plate and follow through. I was in the police station for almost one hour. My girls sat on a chair the entire time and did not move. (I know! It’s crazy! I’m shocked even now as I time that.)

But this post isn’t about my absolutely fabulous kids (Okay, okay, I get it. Enough already.). It’s about what I learned at the station. After we discussed our case (which is now a criminal issue, since he stole cars as well as titles), we began to talk about other cases the officer was working on. He said his biggest case is lottery fraud. One elderly woman, who is showing signs of dementia, has forked over more than $200,000 to phony “lottery officials” that she will never see again. (Note to those of you who still think e-mails claiming you have won a huge amount of money are real – they are not.)

He also said there is a group of guys who knock on people’s doors which is very savvy. “They’ll ring your doorbell and tell you they are cutting down a neighbor’s tree, but they want to talk to you because it’s on the property line and want your approval,” he said. “So the homeowner inevitably goes outside and walks around the side of the house with him, leaving the front door wide open or unlocked. While the homeowner is discussing the tree, the crook's cronies have slipped in through the front door (which is still open) and robbed him blind.

The same thing happens when these folks claim to be from the water company (or other official company) and tell the homeowner they have to check the basement for leaks and water pressure. “The landlord or owner takes the man downstairs and while they are down there, again, his friends are upstairs raiding the bedrooms and stealing everything in sight.”

I told the detective that I never open the door for anyone unless I am expecting them. I also sheepishly admitted that I call the police anytime someone rings my bell trying to solicit services. “The police must hate me,” I said, laughing.

“No, not at all,” he said. “We rely on people like you. We can only be so many places at once, so we need people to call in and give us tips.” He said he wished more people would make that call because police officers would be able to stop crime (or catch criminals) easier and more efficiently. He also said homeowners should always call if someone is trying to get in the home, such as the aforementioned situations. “If someone is legit, they will have the proper permits and identification.”

Hope this post helps stop potential crimes as well.

Photo courtesy of stock.xchng

Wild Thing

When our parents raised us most of them did so by how they were brought up. Some were smart enough not to make the same mistakes their parents did and some made just as many (if not more). My mom and dad, for instance, believed in spanking but they also believed in spoiling their kids rotten. (Huh?) I grew up feeling both entitled and disappointed. I expected to win and when I didn’t I felt something was wrong with me. I know my parents did what they thought was best, but I also knew there was a much better way to raise kids.

Since the 1960s (when I was born - yes, I am that old) parenting experts have done a lot more research and published books – a slew of them – to help parents figure out the best way to raise healthy, happy children.

So here’s my question: why do most moms and dads I know never pick up one of these books and never do the research themselves to raise an independent, confident and responsible child?

My friend Laurie (the same friend from yesterday’s post) sent me this link to a story that didn’t surprise me in the least. It stated that most children today are being kept on a tight leash outside (watched constantly, not allowed to run and play unsupervised as we did when we were kids), yet at home they are given free rein and very little (if any) responsibility. Chores, for example, are practically nonexistent. In fact, society today is almost the total opposite of what it was like when we were kids. (Click here to read the importance of free play and how it affects children, and click here to read how chores can build self-esteem and confidence.)

As a result, children today are becoming more defiant, the study shows.

Research also indicates something I have known since my kids became toddlers: giving a choice is extremely important when raising kids. Children, when given a choice, feel empowered, and empowerment equals confidence and self-esteem.

Many friends of mine raise kids with worry, but the wrong kind. They worry they will hurt their child’s feelings, they are concerned their child will get upset and they fret their child won’t like them as parents. I want to give a Moonstruck-like slap to these people and say, “Your anxiety will hurt your kids even more!”

Before you shake your heads in judgment at me (hey, that’s my job!), know this: I know I’m not perfect. Trust me. I know I could do a lot better when raising my girls. But I also know that I try. Hard. I constantly give choices, I assign chores (my girls have made their beds, picked out their clothes, cleared their plates, put away their clothes and cleaned their rooms since they were 3) and I allow them (now that they are older) to play outside unsupervised. I don’t hover over them at the playground or when we are at someone’s home. I even let them do things around the house that I know will cause more work for me because doing so will make them feel good about their accomplishments. (And yes, inside I’m screaming, “Arrrgh!” when they do these tasks, but outside I’m smiling wide and saying, “You did it!”)

I have friends who threaten but rarely follow through with consequences; I have friends who have not once given a time out (you should see the kids in that family – the eldest talks back to adults and is so fresh-mouthed I have often been stunned into silence myself); I have friends who lecture incessantly (upon deaf ears, of course – again their kids are rude and unyielding). No child is perfect, either, and even when we as parents do what we’re supposed to do kids sometimes have minds of their own (which is a good thing). There are times when I look at my own kids and think, “Really? Are you new here?”

But isn’t our job as parents to raise them with knowledge? Shouldn’t we do the best we can so our children are better parents than we are? Shouldn’t we give them the tools so when they are older and on their own they make the right decisions?

Photo by Glenn Pebley, courtesy of stock.xchng

Holding Kids Back

A few weeks ago I wrote this post about pushing kids ahead. My friend Laurie, who I have known since high school, contacted me soon after. In her capacity as a school psychologist Laurie told me she has seen the opposite problem arise. Meaning, she sees children who were held back and, as a result, became bullies and class clowns.

Before those of you who held (or are planning to hold) your child back start to worry, please read on. The main problem lies with children who are misdiagnosed or mishandled in early childhood.

“I am involved in helping to determine if and why a student may be struggling academically,” Laurie wrote to me. “Very often, conventional wisdom is to retain a student and have them repeat a grade. It is assumed that with more maturity, more exposure to the curriculum, or in the case of most of my students, English language, that they will be more successful with an additional year of that grade.”

“More often than not, this approach not only does not help the student, except for a few months in the short term, but also [can be] harmful in the long term.”

One way holding a child back can fail, she said, is if a student has a true learning disability. If he or she spends another year learning the same things the same way, and his or her problems are not addressed, the child’s self-esteem becomes affected. “The student – and his or her peers – is aware that they ‘failed’ the grade and were ‘held back.’ In addition, as the student gets older, he or she hits developmental milestones – such as puberty for one – before their peers,” she said.

The worst part, she added, was that a high percentage of students who are retained drop out of school altogether (“They turn eighteen and are out of there,” she said). Although she admitted there were exceptions to this rule (a student who misses months of instruction due to an illness or a move, for instance), Laurie said it was important for parents, teachers, school psychologists and administrators to collaborate early on address student progress and growth. Parents should be informed advocates for their children.

I asked Laurie to give me some examples of what happens when children with behavioral issues or learning disabilities whose problems are not addressed are held back. Here’s what she said she has seen over the years:

• A taller, retained kindergarten who was diagnosed with a learning disability became a bully on the playground due to his height. Even on the second time around he was still not learning. He was moved to more restrictive special education class as a first grader.

• A second grader was retained while being evaluated for a learning disability. The child had severe auditory processing deficits. He also could not progress the second time around and will go to third grade a year older and still academically behind his peers.

• A seventh grade student who was retained in sixth was much more hormonally advanced compared to his peers. He became both a bully and a class clown.

“I see many kids in sixth grade who were obviously retained at some point who are in special education. [They are both] physically and emotionally in a different place than peers,” she said.

“If a kid has a learning disability or ADHD, [those things are] not going away. So we need to change instruction and/or accommodate the student’s learning needs rather than impact the rest of their education by being a year older,” she said.

I asked Laurie if there was anything parents could do to change the system. From what she outlined above, I told her our educational institutions seem flawed. “Can’t we as parents do anything to change it?” I asked.

“Unfortunately all you can do is have informed parents,” she responded. “Parents have to agree with retention. When retention is suggested parents should ask for a psycho-educational assessment to determine if the student needs special education support.”

So there it is, folks. Don’t just take what people tell you at face value. Do some research, go online, read about what could possibly be affecting your child. Every child has different issues and you must be the one to use your gut sometimes and say, “Hang on. There may be a bigger issue here.”

To learn more on this topic and others, visit the National Association of School Psychologists Web site at nasponline.org
Photo by Michal Zacharzewski, courtesy of stock.xchng