Pink, It’s Not Just for Girls Anymore

You don’t need a calendar to determine the season. Simply watch the décor at retailers. Pink, yellow and green – it’s April. Red, white and blue – July. Orange and black – October. Green and red – December. And if the Ravens are doing well – its Purple Friday here in Baltimore each week in January.

In recent years, pink has replaced orange in October, for Breast Cancer Awareness month. Store windows, publications and numerous products, sport pink ribbons or new pink packaging to raise money and awareness.

Pink controversy has arisen with one non-profit’s sale of pink cancer awareness bracelets reading: “I love Boobies.” Designed to raise teen awareness of Breast Cancer and spark conversation, these bracelets are popping up in middle schools and high schools across the country. The campaign is working, but the conversation is not. Schools are banning them and civil rights activists are rallying.

Teenage boys, in many schools, outnumber teenage girls wearing the “I love Boobies” bracelets. Do some have other motives?
Of course they do, they’re teenagers. That is to be expected.
Take the conversation off the words and onto the topic. Breast Cancer kills over 40,000 women each year – mothers, sisters, daughters, friends, neighbors.

I urge school administrators to keep talking, but talk about early detection, treatment and research, not about dress codes and foul language. Boobies, breasts, bust, bosom – these are not dirty words. I say let the boys wear bracelets!

Freedom of Speech

I love 3 year-olds and 90 year-olds. They each tell it like it is.

One’s youthful innocence provides fascinating uninhibited opinion on a variety of topics. “Aunt Mary, how come you have white hairs in your head?” The other, having the reached the I’m-too-old-to-care-what-people-think stage, can give new meaning to the words open communication. As in, “That dress does nothing for you.”

I’m stuck squarely in the middle of the bite-your-tongue-stage, strictly prohibiting me from statements like: “You’re not wearing that tie, are you?” Freedom of speech can be highly overrated, and sometimes, it can get you in a lot of hot water.

Last week, in Towson Maryland, Freedom of Speech, proved its usefulness. The Westboro Baptist Church rallied along York Road to protest Towson High School’s Gay-Straight Alliance club. The mature intellect of the Towson High student body outclassed them beyond compare. THS students, over 300 strong, launched a peaceful anti-protest which gave new meaning to the Bible verse “Love one another as I have loved thee.”

This group from Kansas, who call themselves Christians, never had a chance. Their attempts to stir up hatred fell flat. I beamed with pride at the fantastic youth in our community. Clearly they have learned tolerance, acceptance and patience. Such incredible leaders for tomorrow.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Arriving home from a business trip, a pile of newspapers were sure to greet me on the front lawn. My teen would not have thought to pick up the daily unsolicited papers in my absence.

Imagine my surprise as I pulled up and eyed the barren lawn. Clearly, I had misjudged my daughter. (They grow up so quickly, don’t they?) Tossing aside my suitcase, I settled on the sofa with a glass of wine to end my busy week. Finding nothing of interest on TV, I searched for a newspaper, to extract a crossword puzzle or Sudoku. Surprise. No newspapers in the basket in the living room. I peaked outside, perhaps I had missed them. Nope.

The non-stop delivery, for which I did not pay and had oft requested the distributor cease, had indeed finally stopped. Why? I do not know. I imagine, this is a result of our current economic times - scaled back deliveries, publishers going out of business.

Some mornings, I miss the daily newspapers littering my lawn. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. Could be, I enjoyed the exercise. The squats, the toe-touches, the fresh air, inherent in rounding up 2 or 3 papers a day, were part of my daily routine. Could be, I fear I will run out of those little plastic sleeves papers are delivered in. All dog owners know, these are ideal for the collection and disposal of doggy droppings.

I am glad to know some things never change. My teen did not pick up the newspapers in my absence. Imagine my surprise if that event had occurred. I might have fallen off my chair and broke a toe or something.

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.

"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.

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!

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.

Forget the Slots, I Have Another Plan

Today I watched the most pathetic attempt at parallel parking. It was painful really. Made me think – we should re-qualify people to parallel park, annually. Heck, drivers should be periodically required to prove they actually know how to drive a car.

Think about it. Many professions require completion of continuing education to guarantee proficiency over the years. Yet, we hand some teenager a driver’s license and they are good-to-go for life?!

Think about your elderly loved ones. All eventually reach a stage when they have no business being behind the wheel, but no one has the guts to tell them. Who dares to ask Grandpa to hand over the keys? Not I.

Think about the increase in state revenue, from the re-take fees alone! We don’t need slots in Maryland, just driver recertification. It’s a brilliant financial plan really. It would create jobs, generate revenue, increase safety on our roadways.

It’s something to think about . . . .

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'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.

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?

It's the Neighbors, again!

Neighbors are like relatives – you don’t get to choose them. For better or for worse, you’re stuck with them. You could opt to move, but that’s a pretty expensive approach to divorce yourself from an unsavory relative.

Most neighborhoods have their share of Sloppy Neighbors. The ones who don’t mow their grass quite often enough, leave the newspapers to biodegrade on the front lawn and assume the wind will take care of those fallen leaves. These folks are most likely to wait for the snow to melt rather than shovel their sidewalk. I suppose these aren’t such horrible crimes. Though, I feel bad for the mailman, on those slippery snowy days.

Life can get pretty dicey when you have an Inconsiderate Neighbor. The one constantly borrows but rarely returns or returns items broken, without a word about replacing them. I had neighbors once who played the stereo loud enough for me to hear in my yard, 2 doors down. This would not have been so bad if I actually shared their taste in music. I’ve even had neighbors who’s teens routinely bickered, loud enough to hear all the way across the street. (OK, maybe that was my kids . . . . . . . nobody’s a perfect neighbor, after all.)

Have you ever had Feuding Neighbors? Now there’s a real treat. Feuding Neighbors typically emerge when a Judgmental Neighbor is in your midst. You know, the one who “owns” the block and feels a sense of duty to keep all in his territory “as it should be.” Just mix a Judgmental Neighbor with an Inconsiderate or Sloppy one and they'll be no need to wait for the 4th of July to see fireworks.

Do you have a Nosey Neighbor? The one who watches every move on the block and reports perceived transgressions to anyone who’ll listen. Nosey neighbors are actually my favorite. They keep me on my toes, preventing me from becoming the sloppy or inconsiderate member of the community. And they watch my house. I love my nosey neighbor, God bless her soul. She's always helping me out. Once, she clued me in to a party my teenager had one weekend in my absence. My sneaky teen never did find out how I knew. Thus, I was able to continue my oft-repeated assertion “Mommies know everything.”

So tell me - how do you get along with your neighbors? Is it All in the Family, Father Knows Best, Family Feud or Divorce Court? Please, do share.

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.

S-E-X

I have a plan this summer – a plan that will embarrass my kids. I plan to talk about S-E-X this summer. And I’m going to talk about it to anyone who will listen.

You see, I have this friend Charla. (We’re sorta-kinda related. She’s my sister-in-law’s sister’s best friend from college.) Charla wrote a book about a birthday gift she gave her husband – sex, every day for a year. Really! A fascinating idea, one that intrigues men and perplexes women. (at least from my short survey) Her book is called 365 Nights: A Memoir of Intimacy. Sound familiar? Perhaps you saw the ladies discuss it on The View last month or watched the interview on The Today Show yesterday. If you missed those, stay tuned, because I understand they have taped a segment for Inside Edition.

OK – but why am I going to talk about sex all summer? Partially because it will embarrass my kids. (Come on now – there has to be some sort of pay back for all the years of attitude and eye-rolling I endured during their teen years.) Also, because Charla and I are sorta-kinda related. But most importantly, because I’m co-hosting a book signing event for Charla in Baltimore in September. You can stay tuned via Charla’s website : http://www.charlamuller.com/

Today is my 46th birthday – I wonder what Paul has planned? I don’t think its sex every day for a year, but one never knows . . . . .

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!