Whether Catholic, Lutheran or Presbyterian, the time for reflection, repentance and empathy is upon us. Yes, empathy. The age-old tradition of “giving up” something for Lent is a gesture intended to help you identify with the suffering and hardship of your forbearers.
Big on tradition, I passed on the “giving up” gene to my kids.
Now, I’m trying to unravel that. Switching from Catholic to Lutheran a decade ago, my eyes opened to the “Take Up” method of Lenten observance. Help, serve, give, “take up” something new. Empathy and compassion are just as easily practiced when doing rather than denying. Good to know my ritual morning coffee and glass of wine with dinner are safe!
This sits much better with me all around. I’ve always been about action rather than abstention. So kids – help yourself to all the junk food you can stomach this season. But be sure to feed your soul too. Support a cause. Donate. Volunteer. Take up something new.
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Surviving the Emergency Room
“Mom, I’m on my way to the hospital. My lung collapsed again.”
I thought it was a bad April Fool’s Day joke. Alas, it was no prank.
Not to worry. The lung quickly re-inflated. TJ is home. He is fine.
The kids and I are well-versed with this Emergency Room gig. Between the four of us, we hit double-digit visits quite some time ago. The next ER visit, I expect confetti and balloons to fall as we enter, marking Emergency Room Record Holder standing in the community.
Being an old pro in the ER, I thought I’d share some secrets:
Say the words “chest pain” to the triage nurse, gets you right in.
Don’t say “broken toe.” This translates to “last in line.”
Don’t touch anything. The place is full of germs.
Hand sanitizing gel stations are everywhere. Find one.
Name drop your doctor. Pediatrician, dermatologist, any name will do.
If your doctor has privileges at the hospital, you get more attention.
Ask about the TV remote. You could be there a while.
Trust me, there’s always a better channel than the one the nurse tuned in.
Bring a snack – for patient, parent or spouse.
You won’t be offered any food, even if you've been there for 6 hours.
If they say "she's being admitted," settle in with a good book.
This is a hospital, not a hotel. It can take 4 hours to
“turn a room.”
Be nice to the nurses. They stick you with the needles.
“Do unto others” is an important sentiment to cultivate,
especially in the ER.
These are a few of my Emergency Room survival tips. I’d love to hear yours. I’m sure I'll be back again soon to try them out.
I thought it was a bad April Fool’s Day joke. Alas, it was no prank.
Not to worry. The lung quickly re-inflated. TJ is home. He is fine.
The kids and I are well-versed with this Emergency Room gig. Between the four of us, we hit double-digit visits quite some time ago. The next ER visit, I expect confetti and balloons to fall as we enter, marking Emergency Room Record Holder standing in the community.
Being an old pro in the ER, I thought I’d share some secrets:
Say the words “chest pain” to the triage nurse, gets you right in.
Don’t say “broken toe.” This translates to “last in line.”
Don’t touch anything. The place is full of germs.
Hand sanitizing gel stations are everywhere. Find one.
Name drop your doctor. Pediatrician, dermatologist, any name will do.
If your doctor has privileges at the hospital, you get more attention.
Ask about the TV remote. You could be there a while.
Trust me, there’s always a better channel than the one the nurse tuned in.
Bring a snack – for patient, parent or spouse.
You won’t be offered any food, even if you've been there for 6 hours.
If they say "she's being admitted," settle in with a good book.
This is a hospital, not a hotel. It can take 4 hours to
“turn a room.”
Be nice to the nurses. They stick you with the needles.
“Do unto others” is an important sentiment to cultivate,
especially in the ER.
These are a few of my Emergency Room survival tips. I’d love to hear yours. I’m sure I'll be back again soon to try them out.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Breaking the Rules
Most Christian’s know, today is Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent. Growing up a good Catholic, the mandate each year was to choose something to “give up” for Lent. Lent being a time of reflection on the suffering of our forefathers in faith, what better way to empathize with their suffering, than to give up cookies for 40 days.
As a child, I suffered through Lent each year, skipping dessert or giving up candy or soda (as if soda were actually a staple of everyday life in the household of my youth). One year I tried to give up oatmeal. I said the poor kids in India really needed the nutrients more than I. As you might imagine, this did not pass muster with my parents.
I’ve long replaced giving up something for Lent with “doing something extra” during Lent. I believe one can meaningfully reflect on suffering by helping others. Perhaps I am breaking the rules of my religious upbringing, but I’m also a Lutheran now, not a Catholic.
Catholic, Jew or Atheist, it is a good idea, this doing something extra in life. Call it a Springtime resolution. Add one selfless act to your day, or your week, or your month. Drop some food at the local shelter, pass on the resume of an unemployed neighbor or friend to someone who may be hiring, send money to a needy organization or volunteer your time.
Find something extra you can do and give it a try this Lent. It’s much more rewarding than giving up cookies. Trust me, I know.
As a child, I suffered through Lent each year, skipping dessert or giving up candy or soda (as if soda were actually a staple of everyday life in the household of my youth). One year I tried to give up oatmeal. I said the poor kids in India really needed the nutrients more than I. As you might imagine, this did not pass muster with my parents.
I’ve long replaced giving up something for Lent with “doing something extra” during Lent. I believe one can meaningfully reflect on suffering by helping others. Perhaps I am breaking the rules of my religious upbringing, but I’m also a Lutheran now, not a Catholic.
Catholic, Jew or Atheist, it is a good idea, this doing something extra in life. Call it a Springtime resolution. Add one selfless act to your day, or your week, or your month. Drop some food at the local shelter, pass on the resume of an unemployed neighbor or friend to someone who may be hiring, send money to a needy organization or volunteer your time.
Find something extra you can do and give it a try this Lent. It’s much more rewarding than giving up cookies. Trust me, I know.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Cool Parent Points - A Text Message Away
Last month, I offered to design a Time Management training for busy executives in the seniors housing industry. No one has, as yet, taken me up on my offer. Apparently, they are too busy to meet to review my proposal.
Alas, this a problem many of us face – juggling what we need to do, what we want to do, and what we have to do.
Moms have long been seen as time management queens – juggling jobs, laundry, grocery shopping and PTA meetings, but single fathers and stay-at-home dads rival them today. When meal planning and mopping was replaced with pre-packaged meals and the amazing Swiffer Wet-Jet, we all found more time to attend to the expanded social needs of our children. With school, sports, scouts, church, jobs and more, this generation was born multi-tasking.
My newest time management tool is a Blackberry. I told the salesman I needed it for my business, but I really bought it so I could save time typing text messages. My cell phone bill revealed I sent 132 texts last month. There’s no comparison between typing on a key pad vs a phone pad. This baby is going to pay for itself inside a month.
Who am I texting? My children, of course. If you are not texting your children, you are truly missing out. One - you get “cool parent” points if you text. This is huge! Two – you save both time and frustration when you utilize the communication method that will produce the most desirable result in the quickest time. (One of my key Time Management Tips for Busy Executives) This generation of children does not communicate with e-mail and phone calls, they text.
Those of you who know me well, know I time-manage in my sleep, but we can all use a little help now and then. If you want a few more time management tips, send me a text. I’ll get right back to you.
Alas, this a problem many of us face – juggling what we need to do, what we want to do, and what we have to do.
Moms have long been seen as time management queens – juggling jobs, laundry, grocery shopping and PTA meetings, but single fathers and stay-at-home dads rival them today. When meal planning and mopping was replaced with pre-packaged meals and the amazing Swiffer Wet-Jet, we all found more time to attend to the expanded social needs of our children. With school, sports, scouts, church, jobs and more, this generation was born multi-tasking.
My newest time management tool is a Blackberry. I told the salesman I needed it for my business, but I really bought it so I could save time typing text messages. My cell phone bill revealed I sent 132 texts last month. There’s no comparison between typing on a key pad vs a phone pad. This baby is going to pay for itself inside a month.
Who am I texting? My children, of course. If you are not texting your children, you are truly missing out. One - you get “cool parent” points if you text. This is huge! Two – you save both time and frustration when you utilize the communication method that will produce the most desirable result in the quickest time. (One of my key Time Management Tips for Busy Executives) This generation of children does not communicate with e-mail and phone calls, they text.
Those of you who know me well, know I time-manage in my sleep, but we can all use a little help now and then. If you want a few more time management tips, send me a text. I’ll get right back to you.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
"Oh, the Thinks You Can Think!"
My children will tell you, I do not quote scripture and I do not quote politicians. But many times, they have heard me quote lines from songs or children’s books, to reinforce values and lessons. I do also quote myself from time to time, as in “because I said so.”
My children are just about grown, but today’s historic events, had me yearning to dig a Dr. Seuss book from my dusty collection.
“Oh, The Thinks You Can Think!” came to mind, as I watched
Barack Obama take the oath of office and speak of hope, opportunities and unity of purpose.
I am filled with pride and encouragement for our nation and our people. Today, President Obama reminded us of who we are and how far we have traveled. He reminded Americans, both Republican and Democrat, that nothing is impossible. Look what we can do, if we just put our mind to it.
“Oh the thinks you can think up if only you try!”
You are never too young or too old to heed that reminder.
When President Obama said, “the time has come to set aside childish things,” certainly he did not mean Dr. Seuss. Today, you should remind your children, whether they be toddlers or teens:
“THINK! You can think any think that you wish!”
What a day, and a lesson, for the history books.
My children are just about grown, but today’s historic events, had me yearning to dig a Dr. Seuss book from my dusty collection.
“Oh, The Thinks You Can Think!” came to mind, as I watched
Barack Obama take the oath of office and speak of hope, opportunities and unity of purpose.
I am filled with pride and encouragement for our nation and our people. Today, President Obama reminded us of who we are and how far we have traveled. He reminded Americans, both Republican and Democrat, that nothing is impossible. Look what we can do, if we just put our mind to it.
“Oh the thinks you can think up if only you try!”
You are never too young or too old to heed that reminder.
When President Obama said, “the time has come to set aside childish things,” certainly he did not mean Dr. Seuss. Today, you should remind your children, whether they be toddlers or teens:
“THINK! You can think any think that you wish!”
What a day, and a lesson, for the history books.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
A Parenting Oops Card
At Back-to-school night, one teacher handed out a Free Homework Pass to each parent. A little “I know your life is crazy” gift to provide momentary relief on a day of the parent’s choosing. A nice thought, but what I would really like is a parenting “oops” card.
Recently, my daughter shared with me about a time I had ignored a request she made. She was 7. Apparently, she is scarred for life. I told her I was sorry (and I truly am) but I wanted to tell her “get in line.” I’ve made mistakes, a lot of them. Parenting is tough work. We muddle through our busy lives and raise our children as best we can. Somewhere along the line, we need to forgive ourselves for our missteps and hope that our children do to.
My present for you this Christmas is a special kind of gift card, a Parenting Oops Card. Take one guilt-ridden parenting moment and toss it away. Any event: the time you sent your son to school with a fever because you had a presentation at work; a time you raised your voice, simply because you were tired, not because it was the most appropriate response for the situation; a time you ignored, forgot, or misspoke.
I’m here to tell you, the things you’re beating yourself up over are probably not even the things your kids remember. Allow yourself a special gift this Christmas – accept a Parenting Oops Card. And be sure to share it with a friend.
Merry Christmas everyone!
Recently, my daughter shared with me about a time I had ignored a request she made. She was 7. Apparently, she is scarred for life. I told her I was sorry (and I truly am) but I wanted to tell her “get in line.” I’ve made mistakes, a lot of them. Parenting is tough work. We muddle through our busy lives and raise our children as best we can. Somewhere along the line, we need to forgive ourselves for our missteps and hope that our children do to.
My present for you this Christmas is a special kind of gift card, a Parenting Oops Card. Take one guilt-ridden parenting moment and toss it away. Any event: the time you sent your son to school with a fever because you had a presentation at work; a time you raised your voice, simply because you were tired, not because it was the most appropriate response for the situation; a time you ignored, forgot, or misspoke.
I’m here to tell you, the things you’re beating yourself up over are probably not even the things your kids remember. Allow yourself a special gift this Christmas – accept a Parenting Oops Card. And be sure to share it with a friend.
Merry Christmas everyone!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
A Weighty Matter
When a friend recently asked, “can you hold my purse while I pop into the ladies room?” I did not know what I was getting myself into. I agreed far too quickly. I should have told her, “I have back problems.” I should have shared about the carpel tunnel in my hand.
I should have inquired as to its weight. How heavy can the purse of a five foot one senior citizen be? Pretty darn heavy. The 4 minutes she was gone might well have been 40.
I shifted the purse from one hand to the next, slung it over one shoulder, then over the other. I set it on the ground, every so briefly. I finally resorted to using the darn thing to get in a few arm curls. It has been weeks since I’ve been to the gym. Perhaps I can assuage my guilt by fitting in a little impromptu exercise.
We all have different comfort levels, when it comes to keeping our most precious possessions near. Some let their children roam the neighborhood, while others watch their every move. Some will loan their car to a friend, others just can’t bear to let go of the keys. Some must carry a purse brimming with personal items, as they go about their daily errands. Our ability to let go and lighten the load in life is indeed a weighty matter.
“This thing weights more than you,” I claimed when my friend emerged and the eternity ended. She agreed it was busting at the seams. When I suggested perhaps she downsize, she was of the opposite opinion. “I just need to buy something larger so I can redistribute the weight,” she stated.
Well, I guess that takes care of that.
I should have inquired as to its weight. How heavy can the purse of a five foot one senior citizen be? Pretty darn heavy. The 4 minutes she was gone might well have been 40.
I shifted the purse from one hand to the next, slung it over one shoulder, then over the other. I set it on the ground, every so briefly. I finally resorted to using the darn thing to get in a few arm curls. It has been weeks since I’ve been to the gym. Perhaps I can assuage my guilt by fitting in a little impromptu exercise.
We all have different comfort levels, when it comes to keeping our most precious possessions near. Some let their children roam the neighborhood, while others watch their every move. Some will loan their car to a friend, others just can’t bear to let go of the keys. Some must carry a purse brimming with personal items, as they go about their daily errands. Our ability to let go and lighten the load in life is indeed a weighty matter.
“This thing weights more than you,” I claimed when my friend emerged and the eternity ended. She agreed it was busting at the seams. When I suggested perhaps she downsize, she was of the opposite opinion. “I just need to buy something larger so I can redistribute the weight,” she stated.
Well, I guess that takes care of that.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Are you called to be a Helicopter Parent?
I wanted to be a Helicopter Parent – really I did.
I wanted to read every book the English teacher ever assigned, so I could have discussions with my son at the dinner table. I wanted to bone up on my algebra and geometry, so I could check my daughter's math homework for accuracy. I just didn’t have the time.
I wanted to be at school every day helping out in the office or in the art room. I wanted to be the volunteer parent who knows all the teachers and administrators by name. I had to be at work instead.
I wanted to be the parent who called the teacher to task when they treated a child unfairly. I wanted to say “Hey – I know your job is tough, but can you try a little harder, because these are our children.” My children asked me to me keep my mouth shut.
I couldn’t be a Helicopter Parent, but I’m glad someone was there to answer the call.
Baby boomers have brought a lot of improvements to parenting – relationships are more open and honest. Tough topics are discussed, rather than hidden in the closet. Parents are more proactive. They no longer release their children to the unknown at school, on the sports field or elsewhere, trusting the best will happen. When they send their babies off to college, they don’t simply cross their fingers and pray. Now, the connections remain and the discussions continue.
I do still highly recommend crossing your fingers and praying when you send them off to college. With such abounding freedom, much can happen when you’re not around.
Sure, some parents go overboard. I’ve heard the stories of parents confronting coaches about playing time, challenging teachers on their choices of test questions or contacting bosses about performance reviews. But let’s put this in perspective. Going a bit overboard is not unique to parenting.
Have you seen the folks with way too many Christmas decorations on their lawns? Did you ever have a neighbor who took in every stray cat she found? Who doesn’t have a friend or colleague who is a tad over-attentive to their car?
I think Helicopter Parents have gotten a bad rap. Quite frankly, I thank them - for insisting on accountability, fairness and honesty. Applied in moderation, they can be quite beneficial. It’s too late for me to become a Helicopter Parent, my kids are almost grown. But it might not be too late for you.
I wanted to read every book the English teacher ever assigned, so I could have discussions with my son at the dinner table. I wanted to bone up on my algebra and geometry, so I could check my daughter's math homework for accuracy. I just didn’t have the time.
I wanted to be at school every day helping out in the office or in the art room. I wanted to be the volunteer parent who knows all the teachers and administrators by name. I had to be at work instead.
I wanted to be the parent who called the teacher to task when they treated a child unfairly. I wanted to say “Hey – I know your job is tough, but can you try a little harder, because these are our children.” My children asked me to me keep my mouth shut.
I couldn’t be a Helicopter Parent, but I’m glad someone was there to answer the call.
Baby boomers have brought a lot of improvements to parenting – relationships are more open and honest. Tough topics are discussed, rather than hidden in the closet. Parents are more proactive. They no longer release their children to the unknown at school, on the sports field or elsewhere, trusting the best will happen. When they send their babies off to college, they don’t simply cross their fingers and pray. Now, the connections remain and the discussions continue.
I do still highly recommend crossing your fingers and praying when you send them off to college. With such abounding freedom, much can happen when you’re not around.
Sure, some parents go overboard. I’ve heard the stories of parents confronting coaches about playing time, challenging teachers on their choices of test questions or contacting bosses about performance reviews. But let’s put this in perspective. Going a bit overboard is not unique to parenting.
Have you seen the folks with way too many Christmas decorations on their lawns? Did you ever have a neighbor who took in every stray cat she found? Who doesn’t have a friend or colleague who is a tad over-attentive to their car?
I think Helicopter Parents have gotten a bad rap. Quite frankly, I thank them - for insisting on accountability, fairness and honesty. Applied in moderation, they can be quite beneficial. It’s too late for me to become a Helicopter Parent, my kids are almost grown. But it might not be too late for you.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Good Grades, Bribery & the value of Oreo Cookies
With the onset of the school year, the theory of paying students for good grades is back in the news. Seems some school systems are working on a new plan for student success – an incentive compensation package, if you will. Folks are in an uproar.
Can we get real for a minute? Is paying students for good grades really such a foreign concept? Parents have been rewarding their kids with cash and treats for decades. Sure, we all had lofty ideals when our child was still in the womb. But what parent did not learn the value of bribery the first time their two year old dug in their heels with an emphatic “No!” I am not ashamed to admit that Oreo cookies saw me through the terrible two’s. (all three times!)
Come on parents – I know you are with me on this one. We have all dangled the car keys in front of our teens as motivation. Whether the goal was finishing homework or mowing the lawn, is not relevant.
I don’t think the real controversy is over the issue of bribery.
I think the real issue is about who is paying for it, literally.
Monetary rewards must come out of the budget somewhere.
Do I think this plan will succeed? Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t.
Who am I to judge? As a parent of teens, let me just say this:
If I thought this plan would work in my house, trust me, I’d try it.
And I bet you would too.
Can we get real for a minute? Is paying students for good grades really such a foreign concept? Parents have been rewarding their kids with cash and treats for decades. Sure, we all had lofty ideals when our child was still in the womb. But what parent did not learn the value of bribery the first time their two year old dug in their heels with an emphatic “No!” I am not ashamed to admit that Oreo cookies saw me through the terrible two’s. (all three times!)
Come on parents – I know you are with me on this one. We have all dangled the car keys in front of our teens as motivation. Whether the goal was finishing homework or mowing the lawn, is not relevant.
I don’t think the real controversy is over the issue of bribery.
I think the real issue is about who is paying for it, literally.
Monetary rewards must come out of the budget somewhere.
Do I think this plan will succeed? Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t.
Who am I to judge? As a parent of teens, let me just say this:
If I thought this plan would work in my house, trust me, I’d try it.
And I bet you would too.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Mystery of the Disappearing Mailboxes
Someone please explain the mystery of the disappearing mailboxes. What brilliant bureaucrat decided a swift and stealthy removal was necessary?
In case you are reading this from afar, I live in Baltimore. Towson to be exact. Our local U.S. Post Office decided to remove some 30 blue steel mailboxes from perches in neighborhoods around town. They simply disappeared. Overnight. No warning. No discussions. No community meetings. Just gone.
Don’t get me wrong – I applaud their effort to reduce wasteful spending. Apparently many of these boxes were underutilized. I support attempts to conserve gasoline resources and reduce vehicle emissions. No more driving around town to empty these mailboxes twice a day. The decision for a covert removal is where my problem lies. Are we 3 years old? Do you have to hide the pacifier to wean us?
The brilliant bureaucrat who devised this plan was right in one respect. Residents were not going to like it. People were going to stomp their feet, whine a little, and perhaps cry. Hey buddy - you work for the Federal Government, is this something new? You couldn’t come up with a better plan than tip toe into the nursery and snatch the security blanket from the crib?
If you don’t want us to act like 3-year olds, don’t treat us like 3-year olds. We get it. We can do the math. We understand the economics of “reduce.” It would have been nice if someone had given us a little notice. Or (gasp) given us a voice in the decision-making process.
Next time, just put on your big boy panties please and treat us like adults.
In case you are reading this from afar, I live in Baltimore. Towson to be exact. Our local U.S. Post Office decided to remove some 30 blue steel mailboxes from perches in neighborhoods around town. They simply disappeared. Overnight. No warning. No discussions. No community meetings. Just gone.
Don’t get me wrong – I applaud their effort to reduce wasteful spending. Apparently many of these boxes were underutilized. I support attempts to conserve gasoline resources and reduce vehicle emissions. No more driving around town to empty these mailboxes twice a day. The decision for a covert removal is where my problem lies. Are we 3 years old? Do you have to hide the pacifier to wean us?
The brilliant bureaucrat who devised this plan was right in one respect. Residents were not going to like it. People were going to stomp their feet, whine a little, and perhaps cry. Hey buddy - you work for the Federal Government, is this something new? You couldn’t come up with a better plan than tip toe into the nursery and snatch the security blanket from the crib?
If you don’t want us to act like 3-year olds, don’t treat us like 3-year olds. We get it. We can do the math. We understand the economics of “reduce.” It would have been nice if someone had given us a little notice. Or (gasp) given us a voice in the decision-making process.
Next time, just put on your big boy panties please and treat us like adults.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Survival Skills for Back-to-School Night
My back-to-school night blog launched a myriad of discussions. Some folks shared stories. Others expressed surprise that I still attended these, 20 years, 3 children and some 50 visits later. Still others asked my advice, as they too march toward this same milestone. “How do you survive 50 of these?” they ask.
I believe knowledge is worthless unless shared. So, here I offer you my top 5 tips for surviving 50 back-to-school nights.
1. Review the school floor plan with your child in advance. Be sure to find out which route and staircase your child uses to navigate between classes. (If you’ve ever tried to get to a 4th floor classroom at Towson High, you know what I’m talking about.) You don’t want to be late. Then, the teacher remembers you, and not in a good way.
2. Time your arrival at the school for a smidge after the PTSA elections, but just before they run out of the $5 school directories. (Sorry, If I'm offending any PTA members, but does anyone ever contest these elections? Have you ever heard anyone speak up when they ask “opposed?” Never happens. Just skip it. Trust me, everyone will be elected and the budget will be passed.) Use your time more wisely. Go home after work. Grab a bite to eat. Change into something comfortable. Then head over to school. It's OK really.
3. Remember school is a social environment for parents as well as students. Take the time to stop in the hallway, say hello, chit-chat or high-five your friends. Socialization is the cornerstone of back-to-school night survival.
4. Ask your child which friends they have in each class. This lets you know which parents to look for. After all, you need someone to sit with in the back of the classroom and whisper to as the teacher drones on. I mean really - what are they sharing in a 3 ½ minute session that you did not already read on some take-home paper last week?
5. Always go for the extra credit. Sign the parent sign-in sheet, pretend to take notes and be sure to introduce yourself to the teacher before you leave. Your child will get good-parent bonus points for this. Trust me, they’ll need it. You don’t know what they are doing every minute of every day and really, you don’t want to know. Just go for the bonus points.
My daughter said, “Mom, what if there are teachers who read your blog?” I said, “You know honey, your teachers are wiser than you think. Trust me, they have their own private list of back-to-school-night survival skills.”
Perhaps one day, a teacher will share these with me. If so, I’ll be sure to post them on my blog. After all, I believe knowledge is worthless unless shared.
I believe knowledge is worthless unless shared. So, here I offer you my top 5 tips for surviving 50 back-to-school nights.
1. Review the school floor plan with your child in advance. Be sure to find out which route and staircase your child uses to navigate between classes. (If you’ve ever tried to get to a 4th floor classroom at Towson High, you know what I’m talking about.) You don’t want to be late. Then, the teacher remembers you, and not in a good way.
2. Time your arrival at the school for a smidge after the PTSA elections, but just before they run out of the $5 school directories. (Sorry, If I'm offending any PTA members, but does anyone ever contest these elections? Have you ever heard anyone speak up when they ask “opposed?” Never happens. Just skip it. Trust me, everyone will be elected and the budget will be passed.) Use your time more wisely. Go home after work. Grab a bite to eat. Change into something comfortable. Then head over to school. It's OK really.
3. Remember school is a social environment for parents as well as students. Take the time to stop in the hallway, say hello, chit-chat or high-five your friends. Socialization is the cornerstone of back-to-school night survival.
4. Ask your child which friends they have in each class. This lets you know which parents to look for. After all, you need someone to sit with in the back of the classroom and whisper to as the teacher drones on. I mean really - what are they sharing in a 3 ½ minute session that you did not already read on some take-home paper last week?
5. Always go for the extra credit. Sign the parent sign-in sheet, pretend to take notes and be sure to introduce yourself to the teacher before you leave. Your child will get good-parent bonus points for this. Trust me, they’ll need it. You don’t know what they are doing every minute of every day and really, you don’t want to know. Just go for the bonus points.
My daughter said, “Mom, what if there are teachers who read your blog?” I said, “You know honey, your teachers are wiser than you think. Trust me, they have their own private list of back-to-school-night survival skills.”
Perhaps one day, a teacher will share these with me. If so, I’ll be sure to post them on my blog. After all, I believe knowledge is worthless unless shared.
Friday, September 12, 2008
I'm With Stupid
If you have teenagers, you know by now that you are stupid. Your life experiences are meaningless. They add up to zilch, nada, nothing. You can’t remind them to pick up the pace or they’ll be late without getting the “eye-roll.” Translation: “Duh! I know.” You can’t offer study help after a bad test score without getting the “open-mouthed stare.” Translation: “Like you would know?!” You can’t suggest they wear a coat in January, without getting the “slumped shoulders-grunt.” Translation: “Leave me alone.”
It can be enough to make a parent see red. It can be enough to make one wonder where one went wrong. Or, it can motivate you to try a different tact.
Three teenagers and repeated reminders of my apparent stupidity, led me to retaliate one day with a little help from the comic strip Charlie Brown. Remember the classroom scenes? The invisible teacher never spoke actual words, just the muted trombone sounds - "mwa, mwa, mwa.”
“Yea, I know mwa, mwa, mwa, mwa-mwa, mwa-mwa,” I said one day, with my hands making exaggerated yakity-yak gestures in the air, “just take the coat.” Surprisingly, this worked. I had their attention. My kids laughed and they listened.
I used this ice-breaker, and others, many times over the years. Life’s too short to waste time on power struggles. If you ever feel like your teenager is wearing an invisible “I’m With Stupid” shirt and standing next to you, you are probably right. I say go buy yourself an “I am Stupid” shirt, stand next to them and have a good laugh.
It can be enough to make a parent see red. It can be enough to make one wonder where one went wrong. Or, it can motivate you to try a different tact.
Three teenagers and repeated reminders of my apparent stupidity, led me to retaliate one day with a little help from the comic strip Charlie Brown. Remember the classroom scenes? The invisible teacher never spoke actual words, just the muted trombone sounds - "mwa, mwa, mwa.”
“Yea, I know mwa, mwa, mwa, mwa-mwa, mwa-mwa,” I said one day, with my hands making exaggerated yakity-yak gestures in the air, “just take the coat.” Surprisingly, this worked. I had their attention. My kids laughed and they listened.
I used this ice-breaker, and others, many times over the years. Life’s too short to waste time on power struggles. If you ever feel like your teenager is wearing an invisible “I’m With Stupid” shirt and standing next to you, you are probably right. I say go buy yourself an “I am Stupid” shirt, stand next to them and have a good laugh.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Back-to-School Night: the end of an era
My first Back-to-School Night was in 1989, Mrs. Desmarais’ 3’s class at Northwood-Appold Nursery School. I came home scarred for life.
The evening had just begun when a gentleman walked over and said “Hi. I’m Sarah’s Dad.” Quickly learning my birth name was no longer relevant, I introduced myself as “TJ’s Mom.” “Oh, Sarah talks about TJ all the time,” He exclaimed. “Really?” I replied. Sarah’s name had never been uttered at our house. “Sarah says she wants to marry TJ and have his babies,” he responded. I was dumfounded. I smiled and nodded, in a bit of a stupor.
Next, Mrs. Desmarais shared with me TJ’s overwhelming fondness for the housekeeping corner. In fact, she shared, he spent his entire self-directed-play time there, every day. He loved cooking, cleaning and tending to the baby dolls. “Really?” I said again. He was strictly a guns and trucks fellow at home. What was his father going to think when I got home?
The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful as we sat in miniature chairs built for 3-year-olds. Mrs. Schmidt played records (yes - records) on her (you guessed it) record player to share the music our little ones were learning. Mrs. Desmarais talked on about field trips to the pumpkin patch, story time and how the children were learning to use their inside voices.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
Nineteen years and nearly 50 Back-to-School nights later, I am now a Pro. I saunter in to Back-to-School Night with all the knowledge and finesse of a well seasoned veteran. With my youngest now a high school senior, last week my Pro career ended.
I was wondering – does that mean I get to use my birth name again or will I forever be known as so-and-so’s Mom?
The evening had just begun when a gentleman walked over and said “Hi. I’m Sarah’s Dad.” Quickly learning my birth name was no longer relevant, I introduced myself as “TJ’s Mom.” “Oh, Sarah talks about TJ all the time,” He exclaimed. “Really?” I replied. Sarah’s name had never been uttered at our house. “Sarah says she wants to marry TJ and have his babies,” he responded. I was dumfounded. I smiled and nodded, in a bit of a stupor.
Next, Mrs. Desmarais shared with me TJ’s overwhelming fondness for the housekeeping corner. In fact, she shared, he spent his entire self-directed-play time there, every day. He loved cooking, cleaning and tending to the baby dolls. “Really?” I said again. He was strictly a guns and trucks fellow at home. What was his father going to think when I got home?
The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful as we sat in miniature chairs built for 3-year-olds. Mrs. Schmidt played records (yes - records) on her (you guessed it) record player to share the music our little ones were learning. Mrs. Desmarais talked on about field trips to the pumpkin patch, story time and how the children were learning to use their inside voices.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
Nineteen years and nearly 50 Back-to-School nights later, I am now a Pro. I saunter in to Back-to-School Night with all the knowledge and finesse of a well seasoned veteran. With my youngest now a high school senior, last week my Pro career ended.
I was wondering – does that mean I get to use my birth name again or will I forever be known as so-and-so’s Mom?
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Life, Love, and yes, Sex
I am having so much fun talking to people about sex this summer. But I’m not sure my audience is enjoying it as much as I am.
You see, we have finally settled on a date for a Baltimore Book Event for Charla Muller (author of 365 Nights: A Memoir of Intimacy). I’ve been talking-up the book and asking people to mark their calendars.
While Charla’s book chronicles the everyday challenges inherent in balancing work, children and marriage, there really is no way to get around mentioning the word “sex” when talking about her book. I’ve gotten more than a few blank stares. If I’m reading the stares correctly (and I believe I am), they mask thoughts like: “Sex? Did she just say the word ‘sex’ to me?” or “Charla offered her husband what? How often? Was she on drugs?” or quite simply “Don’t let my husband find out about this!”
365 Nights is really not about sex as much as it is about married relationships - how they change over time, how men and women’s perceptions differ, and how reconnecting (in whatever way you choose) can transform a relationship. While the impetus for the renewal in Charla and Brad’s marriage was a change in the frequency of their “married with young children” sex life, the book talks little about sex, but rather about life, stress, change, growth and relationships. Charla’s wit and humor along with her candid look at the realities of everyday married life, make for great reading.
But don’t take my word for it. Check out Charla’s web site (http://www.charlamuller.com/ ), look at the reviews on http://www.amazon.com/ or better yet, read the book. You can find it on the shelf at Barnes & Noble or order it at most book stores.
You’ll agree, it’s impossible to mention the book without using the word Sex, at least once. I think you’ll also find this real, honest, relationship book is a must read you’ll soon be sharing with family and friends.
You see, we have finally settled on a date for a Baltimore Book Event for Charla Muller (author of 365 Nights: A Memoir of Intimacy). I’ve been talking-up the book and asking people to mark their calendars.
While Charla’s book chronicles the everyday challenges inherent in balancing work, children and marriage, there really is no way to get around mentioning the word “sex” when talking about her book. I’ve gotten more than a few blank stares. If I’m reading the stares correctly (and I believe I am), they mask thoughts like: “Sex? Did she just say the word ‘sex’ to me?” or “Charla offered her husband what? How often? Was she on drugs?” or quite simply “Don’t let my husband find out about this!”
365 Nights is really not about sex as much as it is about married relationships - how they change over time, how men and women’s perceptions differ, and how reconnecting (in whatever way you choose) can transform a relationship. While the impetus for the renewal in Charla and Brad’s marriage was a change in the frequency of their “married with young children” sex life, the book talks little about sex, but rather about life, stress, change, growth and relationships. Charla’s wit and humor along with her candid look at the realities of everyday married life, make for great reading.
But don’t take my word for it. Check out Charla’s web site (http://www.charlamuller.com/ ), look at the reviews on http://www.amazon.com/ or better yet, read the book. You can find it on the shelf at Barnes & Noble or order it at most book stores.
You’ll agree, it’s impossible to mention the book without using the word Sex, at least once. I think you’ll also find this real, honest, relationship book is a must read you’ll soon be sharing with family and friends.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The Measure of a Good Family Vacation
A friend just returned from the Outer Banks. A week full of sand, sun, an 8 month old and logging into work every day to keep up with the e-mails. I told him next time, he needs to pick a location without a wireless connection. And follow my golden rule: no vacations involving sand when you have a child under 1 year. I understand he already learned that painful lesson.
My brother just got back from a week in OC – a week with his in-laws and four children, ages 7 to 13 (which includes twin pre-teen girls, God bless their souls). Does that actually count as a vacation?
My other brother and his wife took their newborn and toddler on a road trip to Canada. A 10 hour trek they drove at night so, maybe, the kids would sleep. It took 2 days to recover from “the drive from hell.” Before they knew it, they were faced with the drive back.
What is the measure of a good family vacation? It's different for everyone. For me, it’s always “Did I get to read a book? From cover to cover?” In the interest of full disclosure – my “vacation book” is always a trashy novel. Vacation is a time for escape, so no catching up on reading for my Six Sigma course or grabbing the latest Obama – Time For a Change critique. No siree, not for me!
I took an informal poll of friends and family. Here are some of the answers I received to my “a good family vacation is” inquiry:
* if no one throws up
* if the children sleep on the car ride (to or from)
* if I can get out to golf at least once
* happy hour everyday at 3:00
* if the kids take a nap
* finding time for “vacation sex” (see previous entry)
* if no one gets sunburned
* making it home with my sanity
* no trips to the emergency room for broken bones or stitches
* if we can manage to spend less than 3 months of mortgage payments
* not gaining weight (has never happened, yet)
Recognize any of these? Perhaps you have others - I’d love to hear from you. Shoot me an e-mail or post a response. I hope you have a good family vacation this summer – whatever that might mean for you.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
The Millenials are coming!
Last week on 60 Minutes Morley Safer warned “Stand back all bosses! A new breed of American worker is about to attack everything you hold sacred.” A Washington Post article earlier this year warned, “Watch out The Civic Minded Millenials are coming of age.” News like this makes me picture Chicken Little running down the garden path crying “The sky is falling. The sky is falling.”
The Millenials are the post baby boomer children – those born between 1983 – 1997. I raised a few of those, 3 to be exact. A debate centers on whether parents have done a disservice to their children by raising them with praise, telling them they can be anything they want to be and encouraging them to take care of themselves first. Apparently, we parents openly passed around a “coddling virus” which began when Mr. Rodgers welcomed children into his TV home each week telling them “you’re special.” Parents picked up on this appalling behavior and the infection spread like wild fire.
I am a coddling virus spreader! Guilty as charged. I have raised my children with kindness, support and praise. I have indeed told them they can be anything they want to be. I have encouraged them not to settle, but rather to reach for the stars. We vote on major family decisions (though my vote does count twice). I have taught them to make sure they include themselves when they are putting together their list of priorities. And guess what? I am proud of the way I raised my children. I wouldn’t change a thing! OK – I would make them walk the dog more often and I would make them pick their dirty towels up off the bathroom floor instead of doing it myself just before the 11:00 news. But you know what I mean.
The problem, Morley tells us, is that these coddled children are now entering the workforce. The traditional manager is in a tailspin. He is expected to coach rather than boss. He is expected to motivate rather than order. He is expected to make them feel welcome and at ease or these clever, resourceful, tech savy young adults will go find themselves another job, one where they are treated better.
I say good!
The Millenials are the post baby boomer children – those born between 1983 – 1997. I raised a few of those, 3 to be exact. A debate centers on whether parents have done a disservice to their children by raising them with praise, telling them they can be anything they want to be and encouraging them to take care of themselves first. Apparently, we parents openly passed around a “coddling virus” which began when Mr. Rodgers welcomed children into his TV home each week telling them “you’re special.” Parents picked up on this appalling behavior and the infection spread like wild fire.
I am a coddling virus spreader! Guilty as charged. I have raised my children with kindness, support and praise. I have indeed told them they can be anything they want to be. I have encouraged them not to settle, but rather to reach for the stars. We vote on major family decisions (though my vote does count twice). I have taught them to make sure they include themselves when they are putting together their list of priorities. And guess what? I am proud of the way I raised my children. I wouldn’t change a thing! OK – I would make them walk the dog more often and I would make them pick their dirty towels up off the bathroom floor instead of doing it myself just before the 11:00 news. But you know what I mean.
The problem, Morley tells us, is that these coddled children are now entering the workforce. The traditional manager is in a tailspin. He is expected to coach rather than boss. He is expected to motivate rather than order. He is expected to make them feel welcome and at ease or these clever, resourceful, tech savy young adults will go find themselves another job, one where they are treated better.
I say good!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Habits, Routines or Traditions
I grew up in a house full of traditions. I'm not really sure how it happened. I don't think my parents planned family traditions. Perhaps my parents were simply creatures of habit. Perhaps routine was a valued commodity when raising five children. I'm not really sure how our family traditions came to be, but I sure am glad.
Christmas stockings were faithfully hung on the railing of the stairs off the living room(even after we moved to a house with a fireplace). We have a special birthday song, "Make a Wish." We have sung this song at every family birthday since 1965.
When others were dying Easter eggs, we were making egg shell flowers instead. There's a silly looking felt turkey that gets slipped over a pineapple and placed in the center of the table each Thanksgiving. Does anyone even use felt anymore? We do.
Every Sunday morning of my youth, we dutifully trotted off to church - even when we were on vacation. Vacation was a tradition as well. Every summer, the whole brood of us went camping, with an old army-green canvas tent and a Coleman stove.
Believe it or not, we have a secret family dip recipe. This dip, which we lovingly call "the secret dip", appears at every family gathering. The rule? You must marry into the family to get the recipe.
I could go on and on.
My family probably has a few more traditions than most, but trust me, every family has traditions. You may not have a secret dip recipe or know how to make egg shell flowers, but trust me, you have traditions. Does Grandma make creamed onions for Thanksgiving every year? Are you the one who always bakes the holiday pies? Does the world standstill when the NY Giants are playing? If you look hard enough, you'll find them. Every family has those quirky little things that make them unique.
Celebrate your traditions. Start some of your own. As children grow up, families move apart, or grandparents pass on, you can put a felt turkey on a pineapple and feel like you are home again. You can get on the phone and sing the birthday song to your son on the west coast and share a special bond.
Sometimes silly, sometimes sweet. Traditions are a wonderful thing.
Christmas stockings were faithfully hung on the railing of the stairs off the living room(even after we moved to a house with a fireplace). We have a special birthday song, "Make a Wish." We have sung this song at every family birthday since 1965.
When others were dying Easter eggs, we were making egg shell flowers instead. There's a silly looking felt turkey that gets slipped over a pineapple and placed in the center of the table each Thanksgiving. Does anyone even use felt anymore? We do.
Every Sunday morning of my youth, we dutifully trotted off to church - even when we were on vacation. Vacation was a tradition as well. Every summer, the whole brood of us went camping, with an old army-green canvas tent and a Coleman stove.
Believe it or not, we have a secret family dip recipe. This dip, which we lovingly call "the secret dip", appears at every family gathering. The rule? You must marry into the family to get the recipe.
I could go on and on.
My family probably has a few more traditions than most, but trust me, every family has traditions. You may not have a secret dip recipe or know how to make egg shell flowers, but trust me, you have traditions. Does Grandma make creamed onions for Thanksgiving every year? Are you the one who always bakes the holiday pies? Does the world standstill when the NY Giants are playing? If you look hard enough, you'll find them. Every family has those quirky little things that make them unique.
Celebrate your traditions. Start some of your own. As children grow up, families move apart, or grandparents pass on, you can put a felt turkey on a pineapple and feel like you are home again. You can get on the phone and sing the birthday song to your son on the west coast and share a special bond.
Sometimes silly, sometimes sweet. Traditions are a wonderful thing.
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