spark

parenting, uncensored

It happens: the day when a kid goes from not knowing the word, to knowing it. You can't unknow it, you can only decide what to do with the word. 

When I was in the 2nd grade, my teacher told my class that we were absolutely not to go into the last stall in the girls' bathroom by the upper field, because there was a very bad word scratched into the paint on the toilet paper dispenser. I'm sure you can picture how long the line was for that particular stall at the next recess. The rest of the stalls stood empty while a long line of 2nd grade girls waited their turn to find out what the very bad word was. When it was my turn, I looked at the little white metal box to see FUCK in a scratched scrawl. I was perplexed. That wasn't even a word! Why would this little non-word be such a big deal to all of the teachers? 

At home that afternoon, I asked my mother while she peeled vegetables at the kitchen sink, "what does FUCK mean?" Her back was to me and I remember her shoulders going still, the sound of the peeler stopping abruptly. A moment of silence. Then:

"Where did you hear that word?"

"It was on the toilet paper dispenser in the girls' bathroom."

"It's a not-very-nice word for sex," she said. And that was that. (I learned about the birds and the bees earlier than most kids, and think that was a good thing...but that's a story for a whole different post which I cannot believe I haven't written already.)

Shortly thereafter, the word was painted over. The scratched letters reappeared. And there my memory fades out. I'm pretty sure I never uttered the word again until high school or possibly (probably) college. My cussing is currently somewhere between sailor and preschooler, and yes, I do use that very bad word.

At some point between 2nd grade and now, somebody somewhere introduced me to the idea that there are no bad words. I'm going to say that again, because it's kindof revolutionary.

There are no bad words.

The linguist in me loves this. Words cannot be bad or good, they are simply words. But words can be powerful - or can they? Is a word, in and of itself, powerful? Not really. So it's the way they're used and the context in which they're perceived that gives them that power and makes them "bad" or "good." 

I also feel pretty strongly that these words are associated with shades of meaning that sometimes makes them exactly the right word to use. "Darnit!" and "oh, shit!!!" are similar, but what they convey is not entirely the same. This challenges the notion that people who swear have poor vocabularies or are just lazy. Picking the word that best fits the situation is anything but lazy, and you probably don't have to go far to find somebody who uses "fuck" on a regular basis but also drops 75-cent words on the daily.

There's also mounting evidence that cursing relieves stress and pain, can help people to bond/make friends, helps us to express ourselves, gives us a nonphysical outlet for aggression, assists in giving a sense of control over one's life, and can keep us calmer in general.

The first real challenge to my more-permissive way of viewing the use of expletives came when Griffin, who is now 11, was in kindergarten and discovered the word/phrase "dammit." There were several things that I noticed:

1. He did not seem to have an awareness that this word was special in any way.
2. He used it similarly to the way adults do (that is, to express frustration when something wasn't working).
3. His use of the word didn't bother me in general, but I did cringe at somebody so young using it.
4. My main source of negative feeling about his saying "dammit" was that I didn't want his younger brothers to say it. 

I explored the third and fourth feelings - why did I feel differently about a young child using an expletive, versus an adult using the same word in the same way? And why did I feel even more concerned that the younger boys, then 2 1/2 and 1, might pick it up? 

Here's what I realized:

1. I was concerned that he might use the word near adults who would have strongly negative reactions and might punish him or otherwise treat him poorly / think poorly of him.
2. I was concerned about his ability to use the word only in appropriate contexts.
3. I knew that his brothers would have absolutely no ability to judge their own use of the word.
4. I was conditioned to dislike hearing children swear.

#4 was just something I would have to get over. Every generation has words that feel like a big nothing to them, but that are considered not-so-polite by their parents' generation and scandalously profane by their grandparents' generation. A great example of this is the word suck: to my mother, who is insistent that her children absolutely not use this word, it refers to fellatio and only to fellatio. My generation is aware of that meaning, but the word generally does not recall that meaning to mind unless used in a sexual context. To us, it either refers to applying suction with the mouth in any setting (sucking on a cough drop, sucking a thumb) or to something being disappointing, a bummer, undesirable, something we really wish weren't happening. It's shorthand for a whole bunch of feelings. It's linguistically efficient. My children's generation doesn't even seem aware of the word being related to sex and use it from young ages to refer to bummer situations. I'm reminded of stories about my grandparents' generation objecting to the use of slang like "neat" and "cool". Word meanings change across time, and that means our social conditioning will, at some point, not fit with the common vernacular. So get over it, Jess.

I addressed #1-3 thusly: "You really like that new word. It's very useful to you. I need to give you some information about it. Some grownups don't like it when children use that word. It has strong power to them. If you use it at school, your teacher will dislike it and you will get in trouble. If you use it near Grammy and Grandfather, they will feel very uncomfortable. So it's up to you to decide how to use that word wisely." 

The kid, to this day, is very wise about how he uses words. I know that when he was in 3rd grade, he and his classmates got together to compile a list of all of the curse words they knew. I was pretty impressed by their sharing and documentation of information. More recently, he has ocasionally used "fuck" or "shit", but only in moments of extreme anger or frustration. And honestly, that goes back to stress relief and nonviolent outlets of strong feeling. Another interesting aspect of his use of this language is that he incorporates it into dialogue between characters in a serial dystopian story that he has been writing - and it reads like very real dialogue. 

But that doesn't mean I'm always comfortable with it, because of that good ol' social conditioning. And also because every kid is different. Reese, now 8 and in the 2nd grade (what is it about 2nd grade!?), has a friend with whom he performs "cuss radio." Cuss radio involves the other boy rapping expletives while Reese beatboxes, a passtime which has greatly increased Reese's vocabulary. He is not nearly as circumspect about his use of these words, which means his six-year-old brother once rapped "fuck fuck fuck ass ass" along with him in the car while the whole family was on an idyllic outing. Which was kindof hilarious, actually, except for the whole thing where my BABY just said "fuck" and "ass" and I wanted to give them a little guidance about how to make choices about using those words, because PARENTING.

Which leads us to the photo at the top. That, my friends, is the Easter egg that I scooped out of a cup of dye where it had been abandoned by a child who got distracted and went to do something else. Its bold blue provides bright contrast to the word scrawled on it in clear wax. FUCK. Oh, I knew who the egg-writer was. Mr. Cuss Radio derives a profound sense of amusement from these little moments. He also says the word with a strength and roundness that tells me that he will have a different relationship with swearing than Griffin does.

But. There are no bad words. 

So I scooped it out, laughed with a friend who was hanging out with me, marveled at the way that two children explore the linguistic power of a word in different ways. I don't really want Xander, who is just learning to read and has reached exactly the level of word deciphering ability to read this one, to see it. So will I hide it? Will it really change anything for Xander? 

Does it make sense to censor? 

It doesn't. I'm a guide, not a censor. So the egg stays. And we explore this bit of language development together, uncensored, questioning our conditioning while also holding an empathetic awareness of how other people feel when they hear these words. 

It happens, that day when a kid goes from not knowing the word, to knowing it and using it. You can't unknow it, you can't put it back in the box. You can only decide what to do with the word, now that it's here.

9 things: why I don't regret being a stay-at-home mom, and why it's ok if you do

You may have seen a link to Lisa Endlich Heffernan's Huffington Post essay Grown and Flown: Why I Regret Being a Stay-at-Home Mom, which was published yesterday and is currently making the Facebook and Twitter rounds.  In her essay, Heffernan discusses each of nine points that contribute to her overall dissatisfaction with her choice, which are:

1. I let down those who went before me
2. I used my driver's license far more than my degrees
3. My kids think I did nothing
4. My world narrowed
5. I got sucked into a mountain of volunteer work
6. I worried more
7. I slipped into a more traditional marriage
8. I became outdated
9. I lowered my sights and lost confidence

All of these points are well made, and I think many women, myself included, can relate. But beyond her reasons for regretting her choice, there were two things that really struck me about her writing. First, that she is speaking only for her own experience, and does so without defensiveness. She doesn't attempt to generalize to other women and she doesn't attempt to prescribe what all women should or should not do. She doesn't apologize for her feelings or try to justify them. They are what they are. Kudos to her - owning one's opinions without defensiveness or offensiveness is difficult, and most essayists miss the mark. 

Second, I found myself measuring my own choice against her points, and while some of them are true, what occured to me was that they were less straight-forward in my own experience, and that I have actually found positive aspects in many of them, with the result that on the whole, my internal scales tip to the "I'm happy I made this choice" side of things. I should emphasize: Heffernan is not wrong to regret her choice. It is how she feels. It is how the balance settled in her life. Nor is there blame or shame to be assigned (in the comments, quips such as "I didn't have kids so someone else could raise them." and "having the luxury of raising your own children instead of hiring a stranger to do so is a blessing" are fortunately in the minority). There is nothing wrong with her for having been able to make this choice, and for having complex feelings, including negative ones, about her choice. I'm pretty sure she recognizes and values her privilege; that doesn't mean she can't ever wish she had made different choices. 

I wanted to offer up my own list of nine reasons that I don't regret my choice, as a whole, after 10.5 years of being a mother who doesn't bring home a paycheck. This is not intended to be a contradiction to Lisa Endlich Heffernan, but simply another woman's own experience, free from defensiveness or cattiness toward other women. Because it's not about other women. It's about how I feel about my own choice.  

1. I honor those who went before me. As a feminist, I have struggled with this one in the past. When I decided to finish a master's degree and then stay home with my new baby rather than continuing to work toward a PhD, one of my advisors said, "women like you should be in academia" and several professors and supervisors showed their disapproval. The implication was that women with academic aptitude are wasting themselves and letting the world down if they leave their careers. Apparently that option is only acceptable for - whom? Less-intelligent women? Yikes. 

My female forebears and their male allies fought for me to have options. They did not fight so that I could be locked in to academia and stock brokering and CEO-ing and locked out of homemaking and teaching and nursing; they fought for all options to be open to me. I am fortunate that I had all of these options available to me. I chose this choice.

By "opting out," as it is sometimes called , I have found that I am "opting in" in others. I am actually more available to walk in the activist footsteps of those feminist ancestors. There is a certain flexibility built into not holding a 9-to-5 job, and that flexibility has enabled me to take part in feminist activism that requires my physical presence during business hours. 

2. I put my degrees into new perspective. I hold a BA in Psychology and an MS in Audiology. I am currently neither a psychologist nor an audiologist. I have student debt remaining from both degree programs. I regret nothing. During eight and a half years of undergraduate and graduate studies, I learned self-discipline. I discovered how I learn. I figured out how to negotiate many different social situations. I explored and put to rest several different career options. I got a front-row seat to see what life as a college professor is like, and realized that I didn't want it, after all. I got a lot of perspective about who I am and where I stand in the world. I had some incredible, positive, life-changing experiences. I learned things that have served me often as a parent, as a spouse, as a friend, as a member of an academic (preschool and elementary) community. In all, I have gained a different perspective on the role of college education in our lives. For me, it was more than job training.

3. I have the opportunity to re-frame "women's work" for my children. I have three sons, and yeah, I have worried from time to time that they don't see what I do as "work" or that they will grow up to expect their spouses to stay home while they bring home the bacon. We talk often about people's jobs - what my job is and how it benefits us, what Dan's job is and how it benefits us, what jobs other people we know hold. We know a passle of stay-at-home-dads. We know mothers who are the sole earners in their families. We talk about jobs and work in terms of their effects: how does each person's work (by which I mean any work, not just paid work) change the world around them? So far all three boys seem to be people who challenge social norms, including gender norms. I think we're going to be ok.

4. My world narrowed. Yes, it did, although at the same time, it didn't. I might meet fewer people, and I do meet more like-minded people than not-so-like-minded people, but I have found that at this stage in my life, that has been an incredibly positive thing for helping me to be the kind of parent I want to be and the kind of person I want to be. Some of my life choices are nonconventional and it has been helpful to be in communities that "get it" and can serve as resources and give support. It was nurturing for me to be coccooned a bit when my babies were little, and enabled me to make some big life changes. As my kids get older, I'm noticing that my circles get broader. This might not flow easily for another family or in another place, but it worked for me/us.

5. I am available for volunteer work. As Heffernan acknowledges, volunteerism is often necessary to make the world go 'round. When my kids were really tiny, it was hard for me to be involved in volunteer activities, and I felt grateful to the people who were able to give their time. Once all three of them were in school for part of the day, I was able (and willing) to be one of the mondo volunteers for their school. As we move forward and I am segueing into full-time photography work, I am doing less volunteering, or finding other ways to volunteer, and once again I feel thankful for the people who have more flexibility in their schedule. Sometimes I feel like volunteering is an obligation that I can't turn down, but as time goes by, it's much easier for me to set limits and say "no" when it's simply too much.

6. I worry..less? I tend not to be a helicopter parent, and my anxiety disorder manifests more as a need for control of my environment than as worry. There's no way to know what my mental state and my kids' mental states would be if I worked full time, but I do know that all three of them are kids who often need to ease into things and who benefit from slowing things down, both at home and at school. Having one less thing on my plate (paid employment) does help me to be less agenda-driven and more go-with-the-flow, which seems to benefit all of us. I also have quite the guilt complex, and in the guilt battle of kids vs. career, I ultimately feel less guilt about career than I would about kids. Your mileage may vary.

7. My husband and I have had to figure out what an egalitarian one-income marriage looks like. It's relatively uncharted territory, and not really what either of us expected sixteen years ago. It's about being equal people, not about doing equal things. Sometimes resentment can flare, and then we know it's time to change something. One thing that helps a lot is that he has very little desire to do what I'm doing, and I have very little desire to do what he's doing. Each of us is glad that the other one wants to do what we don't want to do, and I think the tug toward 1950s-style marriage helps to keep our focus on what we value and finding new ways to be partners. 

8. The farther I get from grad school, the more free I feel to find another career. I've changed a lot in 10 years, including my interests and needs. If I were to go back to audiology, I would probably have to earn a new degree, due to changing certification requirements. I might have to redo clinical internships, after which there would be exams and a fellowship year. That's a big investment. Is it really how I want to spend my time and money? Short answer: no. When there's no easy fallback, I'm forced to make sure my future is something I really want. It's scary, but in a good way. (Mostly.) 

9. I've been humbled, have learned to surrender, have discovered reserves I didn't know I had. Kids are unpredictable, and they will bring you to your knees. In those low moments, I have found despair, but I have also found solidarity with other mothers and fathers. There is something beautiful in a parent's raw state during their baby's first year, and in those moments of complete uncertainty that hit every so often as the kids grow up. One of the most powerful things I have learned in the last 10 years is that all of us, every last one of us, feels inept at times. All of us mess up. All of us do things we wish we hadn't. We are all. so. HUMAN.  

Before kids, I hated the word "playdate." I don't know why; I think maybe it just sounded stupid and over-scheduled to me. As a stay-at-home parent, I love playdates. Playdates are really for the parents, not the kids, although the kids benefit, too. Playdates are when we confess things to each other, commiserate, celebrate, dream. Playdates are when we find out that our worries, our fears, our mistakes are NORMAL. Playdates are when we learn cool tricks and hear news we had missed and meet new people. Playdates are when we hold up a mirror to our friends to show them the great things about themselves, and they do the same for us. Playdates are what brought me into several amazing communities that have changed the course of my life in extremely positive ways. I am deeply, profoundly grateful for 10 years of playdates. I would not have had them if I had stayed the course, earned my PhD, and gone on to research and teach.   

 

everybody's balance is a little bit different

Of course there are negatives to my experience, too. I get "touched out" by my kids from so much togetherness. Outdated skills in my degree field and a new, not-yet full-time career mean I'd be in a tough spot in the event of divorce. I do not "enjoy every moment" as the grocery store grannies recommend. A lot of the moments suck. But, moment to moment, I still choose this. When I put everything on the scale, it tips to the positive side for me, and for that I'm grateful, because it was a giant risk and there are no do-overs. For Heffernan, the scale tips to the other side. I'm sure for some, it's an even swap, while for others, the balance is strongly to one side or another. And it's all ok. 

In the end, regardless of what I think about my past choices, I like who I am right now, and where I'm going. I suspect that Heffernan feels similarly about herself. There is no blame or shame, no right or wrong, in how you feel about your decision to hold full-time, part-time, or no-time employment.

Where does your scale balance out? What are the overwhelming negatives or positives?  Would you make the same choices today? 

a little while does fortune smile

Following stress reactions (early stress fractures) in both shins, I'm on the long road toward building back up to my previous strength and endurance. This morning I took a 2-mile half-jog-half-walk (run 1/8 mile, walk 1/8 mile) in my neighborhood and the local elementary school's track and vita course, and toward the end I stopped to do some back extensions on the parallel bars. Face-down to the mulch, I spotted a little shred of paper that turned out to be a fragment from a fortune cookie. 

At first, I was bummed that it was incomplete, but then I realized that I knew what the fortune was. I had received it in a cookie years ago, and saved it, and later created a notecard with it, and I still haven't found the right occasion to use the card. 

Thinking about this phrase eventually led me to the middle stanza of John Byrne Leicester Warren, Lord de Tabley's poem Fortune's Wheel:

A little while did Fortune smile

On him and her and me:

We sang along the road of life

Like birds upon a tree.

(The first and third stanzas are about lost love, but those are unimportant to these musings.)

Motherhood - and life in general - have been frustrating lately. There are so many things that must be done or that I want to do, and so many distractions, and also so much about the developmental stages my kids are in that bogs us down and prevents me from doing all the other things I must do or want to do. The youngest is very clingy and whiny right now. The middle son is absentminded and needs to have somebody make direct eye contact and keep him on task. The oldest is preteen and moody and both pushing away from his parents and desperately in need of them. 

But this, too, shall pass. The frustrating stuff, and also the good stuff that hides under it. I might not have time for everything, but there are things more precious than my time, and first among those is the truth of who we all are right in this moment.  The wants and needs are never going to go away, so I need to set aside time every day in which I tell all the wants and needs to bite me, and just focus on the truth of the hour and the people in front of me. 

What are the precious truths confronting you right now?  How do you interpret "truth is more precious than time"? 

screen time, data, and problem solving - a learnable moment

Screen time is kindof a big deal in our house. There is whining. There is fighting. There is begging. There is complaining. 

Can I have screen time?
When will it be screen time?
I didn't get screen time!
He's hogging the computer!
I want the TV first!
I never get a turn on the iPod! 

I tried setting a specific time for video media. I tried allowing free access to video media. I tried giving each person a time limit. I tried deciding for them whose turn it is. I tried letting them decide. No luck.

Then, when all three of them preferred sitting in front of a screen to going outside or playing with one of their many toys, I was at my limit. Hearing "I'm booooored" whenever they weren't playing a video game was irritating. It was taking over our lives. It was preventing them from being the masters of their own fun and from being active and imaginative. 

Enough, already!

So, I decided - unilaterally, which is rare around here - that there would be ZERO screen time Monday through Thursday. None. It's too hard to have playdates and spontaneous outings and after-school activities and homework time and dinner without also worrying about fitting in video media and making sure it's all perfectly fair or hearing whining when there wasn't time for it that day. So we're just not doing it, and on weekends, there will only be screen time when it works with everything else. If you didn't get any that day, then you must have had an awesome, active day. This met some resistance among the troops, but they immediately rediscovered the yard and their toys. They got along better. They found their sense of creativity. They stopped talking about nothing but video games. I was encouraged by the quick success of this plan (although we're back to detoxing again after too much screen time during three weeks of winter break - but it will be better soon).  

The one continuing issue is this: how do we manage screen time itself, when we have it? The whining and fighting continued over what's fair and who had more time. I would ask them to work it out themselves, but they didn't. Or couldn't. I would ask for a plan ahead of time, but again, this was beyond their capacities. 

Then I had an epiphany: I told them that screen time would be available at 3pm and last until 5pm that afternoon, but only if they first presented me with a written plan delineating who would be doing what and when. I anticipated some pushback and procrastination and was pleasantly surprised that instead, they started working on a schedule immediately. 

Griffin took the lead, gathering his brothers together and collecting information. I heard him in the studio, asking each brother whether or not he was interested in each available media form, and I knew just what he was doing. I peeked in and it was confirmed: my logic-loving kid was making tables and laying out the data in front of himself. The child was born to work with arranging facts and numbers. (One of his brothers added smiley faces.)

 

 

When each kid had answered his survey questions, Griff read off the results: "So, I'm interested in using the computer to play Pirate 101 and Wizard 101 and Minecraft, Reese wants to play Danball and Minecraft on the computer and Minecraft on the iPod, and Xander wants to play Minecraft on the computer and Lego Star Wars on the TV." The younger kids confirmed that this was, in fact, the case. 

A few minutes later he came to me with this chart, representing their plan:

 

On the previous page, he had started working out how many minutes each could have on the computer - it looks like he estimated 50 minutes, worked it out and realized that it was too much, stepped down to 45, same thing, then arrived at the conclusion that 40 minutes each would add up to 120 minutes, or two hours. He assigned 40 minutes to each brother for the computer, then was a little stuck on how to divide up the other time and media opportunities. I pointed out that this chart accurately assigned 40 minutes of computer time to each brother, but did not tell me who would have the first turn, the second turn, and the third turn, or what times they would be using other devices. I suggested that perhaps a schedule chart showing what each child would start playing at 3pm, 3:30, etc (or other times, as he could determine) would solve our dilemma. He went back to work. I left him working with Reese and Xander on forming consensus on the order of turns for the computer.

Unfortunately, the scheduling task quickly became frustrating, and his worksheet ended up balled up and thrown across the room. I retrieved the paper and we looked at it together. He had worked out that 40-minute intervals resulted in start/end times of 3:00pm, 3:40, 4:20, and 5:00. But how to work out what to put in each time slot? 

 

 

He declared that he needed to use a computer to lay out the data for himself, and I advised that Google Docs, which he wanted to use, was probably not as easy to use with tables as drawing the tables. I suggested that he approach the problem like sudoku (which he has loved and excelled at since age 5), filling in the easier spaces first and working up to the harder ones, which would become easier as the table was filled in. He didn't want to keep balling up paper, and I asked if using another writing implement, such as pencil, might feel easier. The idea of working in pencil felt satisfactory to him, and I could see him relax a bit.

Since he felt stuck on the table, I re-drew the same schedule that he had drawn, but bigger. We agreed that nothing needed to go into the 5pm space because that was when they should stop, so I drew a stop sign in each block. That left 9 blocks to fill. I mentioned that we didn't have to go straight across a row or down a column. Why not start with the computer, since that was the easiest to divide three ways?

Suddenly it seemed as if he could see a path, and he was able to fill in who was first, second, and third for the computer by finding the intersection of their name with the first, second, or third time slot. The schedule and the concept of scheduling was starting to make more sense to him. Which was the next-easiest thing to divide up and assign? He determined that it was the iPod, after which filling in TV slots was simple. We decided that if somebody didn't want to use their assigned item, they could trade with another person, which would be uncomplicated now because it was clear who had priority on which electronic device. 

And voila! A schedule was made! Peace rested over us (at least as far as talking about screen time went) because everybody could see that they would get a turn and when, and they felt reassured that turns were divided fairly. I accepted their plan and posted it on the refrigerator. I let Griff know how impressed I was by his leadership and his ability to think through the problem on paper. 

Come screen time, everybody knew what to expect. No fights. No "it's not fair!" or "he always gets to go first!" The magic of laying out our data clearly. 

Griff and I agreed that I should blog this, because it seems like a breakthrough idea for us and maybe another family might be interested in solving a similar situation this way. I imagine it could be applied to a variety of sibling dilemmas. It's also interesting to think about the steps that Griffin took to solving the problem.

At first, I was thinking about this as a "teachable moment," but then realized that it wasn't about teaching, it was about learning - a learnable moment. Griff arrived at new ways of thinking about time, and he learned some scheduling skills - no easy feat, considering how much trouble his dad sometimes has creating on-call schedules for his practice. He had the opportunity to exercise consensus-building strategies among his siblings, and to look at new ways of solving frustrating problems. He had the gratification of knowing that all of the answers came from him; I had provided nothing but support and had not dictated any of the scheduling. I had the opportunity to see his mind at work and to appreciate his methods, which were different from what mine might have been, and ultimately very effective. I also got to stay out of the decision-making, which is important to me because I want the kids to handle as many of their issues among themselves as possible, for the sake of their growing minds and my mental health. The younger boys were able to witness this process and learn by example how to handle a sticky turn-taking situation. We all got to enjoy a nice, drama-free afternoon. 

I'll be on the lookout for other family issues that might be solved in a similar way. We are all happiest here when we grasp the learnable moment and enjoy the results. 

i'm mommy and i know it

Somewhere along the way, my five-year-old heard the song "I'm Sexy and I Know It," and it made an instant impression on him. I don't think I even gave the song much thought until I heard him singing the title line, stuck on repeat. The kid has a knack for hearing songs and playing them back to us later. He is almost always singing. 

My first reaction was to think that, ugh, do I really need my five-year-old to know the word "sexy"?  And then I wondered, what does he think it means? And could I really stop him from knowing that word, anyway? And then I decided not to worry about it. I'll save my worry for explicitly sexual and/or misogynist lyrics. This one goes in the "mostly harmless" category.

This morning, I was helping Griffin figure out the screen time schedule (a new breakthrough about which I will write soon), and Xander walks in singing. When I tuned in to him, I realized he was singing, "You're sexy and you're mommy." This made me laugh, and then I wondered again, what does that mean to him?

Me: "I'm sexy and I'm mommy?"

Xander: "Yup."

Me: "What does sexy mean?"

Xander: "It means very, very pretty."

Me: "So I'm very, very pretty?"

Xander: "No."

Me: "What am I, then?"

Xander: "A little bit pretty."

Me: "Oh, so sexy means really pretty, but I'm just a little bit pretty."

Xander: "Yup."

Gotta love that candor.

Now, I might get my nose out of joint about this, or lecture him about insulting people by telling them that they're not terribly pretty, just a little bit pretty, but the thing is, he's five, and he's just honest. To him, I'm not sexy. I'm mommy. I'm pretty enough for him to admire, not pretty enough for him to fall head over heels in love. Which is fine, because I'm mommy. 

This is a normal kid thing. He's learning what pretty is, how our society defines it, how he defines it. He's learning (slowly) about tact and social appropriateness. I'm fairly certain that ten years from now, he will not be telling some girl or boy that they're pretty, but not that pretty. Or maybe he will, and he'll get a talking-to from him/her and their friends, and he'll learn something.  

It's too easy to take offense to the blunt things our kids say to us. But I know what this song is really saying - that sexiness isn't about being tanned and toned or a fantastic dancer with perfect hair. It's about confidence. It's about being yourself and trusting that that is all you need to be. I'm sexy, and I know it. And I also know that with time, my kiddo will explore what pretty and sexy mean, and with his feminist, question-everything mom, I think he'll come up with a similar conclusion. I'm content to be his "little bit pretty" mom.

How do you feel when your kids comment on your appearance? How confident are you in yourself and in them?

midsummer mothering makeover

As we approach the half-way point of summer vacation, we're all burned out. Too much parent-child and sibling-sibling together time, too little creative flow, and it's not helped along by 106 degree days and an air conditioning system that can't support the size of our home (thanks, previous owners!). Mama is cranky, the kids are bickering and whining, and everybody is just DONE.

Today while my husband takes the kids to the blessedly-indoor, totally-kid-friendly rec center pool, I'm restoring my mojo so that I can go into the next week with a renewed sense of energy and patience. A little laundry and housecleaning (organized home = clutter-free mind, ahhh), a little back-to-basics for my parenting ideals, and a little time without kids clinging to me and begging for treats. 

I almost hate to admit it, but I have still never managed to read Alfie Kohn's Unconditional Parenting cover-to-cover. It seems like the best books are the ones that I can never find time to read when I really need them. While searching for something else, I stumbled upon the image on the left, which led me to a 2009 New York Times article, "When a Parent’s ‘I Love You’ Means ‘Do as I Say'" (a sentiment with which I am altogether too familiar). Tha author? None other than Mr. Kohn. Good reminder of my core values. I would recommend it both to parents who already believe that "unconditional parenting" is something to strive for, as well as those who currently favor time-outs and other mainstream parenting methods based in punishments and rewards. Once again, UP is at the top of my neverending to-read list. 

One thing I'm hoping to glean from reading the book is an idea of what the hell to do when I really, really want or need obedience. I tend to stress family collaboration and gentle guidance over a "do what I say, when I say it" approach, and I'm completely on board with the long-term benefits of this, both in terms of raising indepedent, moral, responsible adults and also ixn terms of establishing and preserving a health relationship between parents and children. The thing is, sometimes I need (want?) people to just DO WHAT I SAY. Sometimes my patience runs out for explaining something for the millionth time, or waiting forever for a seat belt to be buckled. Sometimes I need a kid to just plain STOP PESTERING HIS BROTHERS. NOW. Setting limits is important, yes. Setting realistic limits - those that are age-appropriate and not excessively controlling - is key. And we have those limits. But how do you enforce those limits without shaming, blaming, nagging, yelling, punishing, or rewarding? How do you avoid getting angry and mean with a kid who is pushing your buttons in hundred-plus-degree heat for the eight thousandth time this week? Can you have your disciplinary cake and eat it, too? 

A new resource to me (new, as in, just found it today) is Aha! Parenting, created by Dr. Laura Markham (no, not that other awful Dr. Laura). I'm hoping it can be a practical, dip-into-as-needed companion to an underlying foundation of compassionate parenting. Her two-point philosophy meshes well with mine:

1. Children who feel connected WANT to cooperate. They need guidance -- limits with empathy when necessary -- but never punishment.  When they can't connect and cooperate, it's because they need our help with their emotions.

2. Job One for parents is managing our own emotions,  so we can help our children manage theirs.

YES YES YES, although I might put #2 first, it's that important. Handling your own emotional shit - both the in-the-moment stuff and the old-baggage stuff - is quite possibly the most important part of being a parent. Or of just being an adult. THE MOST IMPORTANT. Everything else - literally, everything - flows from that. 

Ok, so back to my current too-hot, too-bored, too-grumpy family: I was surprised to see that Dr. Laura, in an article about the importance of boredom for children, suggests that when a kid whines about being bored, you give them your undivided attention and some connection for five minutes. What? I'm fully on board with not overscheduling kids, as suggested previously in the article. We keep extracurriculars to a minimum and typicaly don't do "summer camp" types of programs. But I was under the impression that telling a kid to go make their own fun, and not giving them a ton of attention, was constructive when a kid is bored. What Markham is suggesting is not that we solve their boredom issue, but just that we check in with them, refill their emotional tank. And that is exactly what I have not been doing enough lately. It's hard to connect with kids when you are also too-hot, too-bored, and too-grumpy, but that's exactly when it's time to go back to Job #1, get over your hot/bored/grumpy shit, and tune in. If they want more, it's probably because they need more. If they're filled up, they'll be able to entertain themselves. 

Except for boredom issue #2: screen time. Yeah, in theory, we limit it. And in practice, it's hard to stick with that during a hot hot HOT summer. It's easy to say yes to one more video or computer game. And that's when Markham blew my mind for a second time. I know about neurotransmitters. I know that we can get addicted to things like carbohydrates, which give our brains these little boosts of dopamine that makes us feel oh so good and make us crave more. I didn't know that "electronics (Ipads, phones, computers, video games) are designed to produce little “dopamine” rewards in our brains as we interact with them. This “screen time” can be so enjoyable that other experiences pale in comparison." There's my Aha! moment. You really can be addicted to video games, even when they're played in moderation. And kids who regularly use electronics are more likely to feel bored than children who don't. Wowza. We need to do something to break that addiction.  

All right, but what about the things that drive us to say OK to screen time, to begin with? Long days spent inside due to heat advisories, kids who are inactive, bored, and bickering, touched-out parents. How do you keep everybody's tank full and your own needs covered when you have SO MUCH time together, without resorting to the screen? Those screens are a tempting solution when everybody needs some down time and won't stop picking at each other, or when a tired parent wants to be left alone for a while. 

I think perhaps I'm focusing too much on the what-do-we-do-once-we're-stuck and not enough on preventing getting stuck to begin with, maybe?  From an Aha! article: "if he seems hellbent on trouble, he's asking for your help."  Yeah. I know this. It should probably be my mantra for a while. It's not about obedience. It's about feeling connected enough to each other, whole enough, so that we feel good cooperating with each other and finding interesting things to do. 

What are your summertime mantras? What keeps everybody's tank full so that you don't run into the touched-out, worn-out, too-bored crankies?  What helps everybody to co-exist peacefully? 

the garden of your mind

Symphony of Science's John Boswell, the wonderful mind that brought us Carl Sagan autotuned into "Glorious Dawn" and (my favorite, with Feynman, deGrasse Tyson & Bill Nye) "We are All Connected", has created a brand-new and beautiful piece that was shared by PBS Digital Studios today: "Garden of Your Mind."  

Do you ever imagine things? Are they scary things?
Do you ever imagine things?
Things you'd like to have? 
Did you ever see a cat's eyes in the dark and wonder what they were?
Did you ever pretend about things like that?

Did you ever grow anything in the garden of your mind?
You can grow ideas in the garden of your mind.
It's good to be curious about many things.
You can think about things and make believe.
All you have to do is think -
And they'll grow.

Imagine every person that you see is somewhat different
from every other person in the world.
Some can do some things,
Some can do others.
Did you ever think of the many things that you've learned to do?

Did you ever grow anything in the garden of your mind?
You can grow ideas in the garden of your mind.
It's good to be curious about many things
You can think about things and make believe.
All you have to do is think -
And they'll grow.

Didja feel like going like that?
Let's give the fish some food.
Mr. McFeely!
I didn't order any whistles.
(that's what they call a bassline)
Didja feel like going like that?

There are so many things to learn about in this world,
And so many people who can help us learn.

Did you ever grow anything in the garden of your mind?
You can grow ideas in the garden of your mind.
It's good to be curious about many things.
You can think about things and make believe.
All you have to do is think.
You can think about things and make believe.
All you have to do is think -
And they'll grow.

Mr. Rogers just never stops being awesome. Thanks, Fred. Let's give the fish some food.

diversity: let it shine

A friend of a friend recently contacted me to ask for my thoughts on helping children to embrace diversity among their peers. Because her starting-point had been gender expression, my responses to her - seen in edited form below - focused on that aspect of celebrating diversity. 

I think all kids struggle to some extent, some more than others, with wanting to blend with their peers. It can be a normal and healthy thing, but parents often notice, it can also undermine self-expression. My 8 year-old son Griffin sometimes feels more bold and sometimes makes the "safe" choices. He and I talk about how it's ok to make either choice, so long as you are aware of what you're doing and why you're doing it. Even we adults choose times to let our freak flags fly and other times to be a little more understated. 

When thinking about diversity and the gender conformity issue, I think perhaps the core concept is self-expression. Children should be free to make choices about their appearances and behaviors. Of course, personal expression that hurts another person (like hate speech or sexist imagery on a shirt) is something that parents absolutely should limit, while discussing why those particular forms of self-expression are harmful. But something like hair color, nail polish, the color of your shirt or lunchbox, whether you like to play with the girls or the boys, what kinds of activities you enjoy doing with your friends...all of those are healthy forms of self-expression for children and, in my opinion, schools have an obligation to provide a safe environment within which a child can continue to build and express his or her self-identity. 

In recent years, there has been a lot of media attention on bullying in schools. Gender policing - when children pick on others' choices because they fall outside the stereotypical roles assigned to that child's biological sex - is a type of bullying. How can schools support creative, authentic self-expression and discourage bullying?  Here are some the things that come to mind:

 

Education: eradicating the ignorance that feeds fear

Schools can provide education to both children and adults about gender expression. Many parents are concerned that crossing stereotypical gender lines reflects something negative about their child's emotional health, puts them in danger of future of gender identity/expressions that the parents find to be concerning or immoral, or puts them in danger of bullying from other children.

Regarding gender and orientation, it's important that parents understand that gender identity, gender expression, physical sex (chromosomal makeup, which organs you have), and sexual orientation are separate concepts. We tend to lump them all together and many families don't understand anything beyond gay/straight. Learning about these different aspects of who a person is can be very helpful in parenting a particular child. Understanding gender and sexuality can also help us to reduce fear by understanding that their choices reflect who they are rather than determining who they are, and by removing the fear that comes from ignorance of human diversity. 

Children and adults can also both benefit from education about standing up for one's own choices. Knowing how to talk to others about your choices can reduce avoidance of self-expression out of fear of bullying. Furthermore, both adults and children can benefit from education regarding bullying prevention. Too much time is spent, in my opinion, dealing with the after-effects of bullying rather than modeling acceptance of others and teaching children how to communicate respectfully. (See Marshall Rosenberg's NonViolent Communication)

 

Modeling: be the change you wish to see

It's not enough for the adults to say "we accept diversity." Children must see that adult behavior corresponds to that claim.

Adults need to make sure they are not avoiding discussing diversity. We have a desire to be "colorblind" and not draw attention to differences of skin color, cultural practices, gender expression, religion, sexual orientation, body shape, and ability. Our kids are noticing those differences and they want to talk about them! By omitting mention of them we think we're treating everyone equally, but research says otherwise. "Colorblind" education actually reduces sensitivity toward and ability to confront meaningful race differences. It can be argued that this goes beyond race and would apply to all issues of diversity and discrimination. 

Teachers can be aware of how their classroom choices reflect their own assumptions about gender and how those assumptions affect their students. This could include (but is not limited to) providing gender-neutral choices or choices that are open to all children regardless of gender (e.g., not assigning boys to bold colors and the girls to pastel colors), thinking about creative ways to divide into teams rather than boys vs. girls, and being conscious of the way men/boys and women/girls are shown in classroom materials. 

Parents and teachers can both serve as models of acceptance of other people's self-expression by providing open options to all children, not making a big deal out of gender non-conforming behaviors, and showing a willingness to question assumptions about self-expression. Adults can also notice whether their own behaviors - especially their comments to children - serve to reinforce gender stereotypes. 

 

Collaboration: adults as children's allies

Children sometimes need assistance in gently confronting gender-policing behavior. This could take the form of saying "is that true?" and "let's think about that" when children say that "this is for girls" or "that is for boys". Comments like these, or something like "Pink is Griffin's favorite color, what's your favorite color?" can start discussion about the assumptions children make and free all children to make their own choices while derailing gender-policing behaviors. Adults can also address other adults who are policing gender by offering their own family's experiences with self-expression. Sometimes knowing that an acquaintance's child also likes nail polish or playing with fairy dolls is reassuring, and sometimes hearing another adult say "you know, I struggled with that worry, too, and realized that there was no actual threat, and that I was squashing my kid's self-expression" can open up avenues to new ways of thinking about and viewing children.

 

Truly embracing diversity would have to address education for adults and children, adults modeling what they say, children being empowered to express themselves, thoughtful selection of classroom/school materials and methods, and all people having access to communication skills such as Rosenberg's nonviolent communication. 

I'd like to live in a world in which I never overhear a father say "you can't have the Diego [toys], they're for boys" in a store, or a mother say "I hope you haven't had a pedicure, I'd have to worry about you" to her son. That's a world in which kids are a little more free to be themselves and celebrate who they are and what they like, where they don't learn from us how to shame and bully each other, and in which, because they can accept themselves, they can also accept each other.

good advice?

My friend Susan shares her struggles with parent-child boundaries today in "Grown up children and their parents" on her blog, Exploring Women's Bodies.  She includes a quote sent to her by a friend and attributed to Katherine Briggs, co-creator of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. The reported recipient of her words was her daughter, Isabel Briggs Myers, who was about 20 years old at the time. 

It is the PRIVILEGE of parents of grown up children to make suggestions; and it is the DUTY of the children to give serious consideration to those suggestions.

It is the PRIVILEGE of grown up children to make their own decisions; and it is the DUTY of the parents to respect and acquiesce in these decisions.

After writing a response, including applause for Susan's thoughtful decision not to burden her son with worries which were likely to impact him more negatively than positively, I felt the need to copy and share the rest of my comment as a separate post. Those thoughts follow:

Briggs' comment to her daughter is, in my opinion, vastly oversimplified. One cannot necessarily say what privileges all parents and children can or should have. There are few, if any, one-size-fits-all platitudes that can be applied to that relationship.

I might argue that having a relationship with one's adult child is a privilege in and of itself. A parent can earn this privilege, in part, by showing themselves to be a respectful person worthy of trust and capable of nonviolent emotional closeness. Much depends on the personalities of parent and child, too. Giving advice might or might not fit well into a particular parent-child dynamic. 

An adult child does not, in my opinion, have a duty to listen to or accept advice from his or her parent. All adults in all relationships have the right to say "I don't want to discuss this." While doing so might have negative effects on the relationship, it is the right of any person on the receiving end of advice to set their own boundaries. It is the duty of all people to respect the boundaries of others.

Making decisions about one's own adult life is not a privilege. It is a right. The only times I can think of when that right is removed is when the person has committed a crime punishable by the justice system, or when the adult is mentally incapacitated. 

I do agree that parents have a duty to respect and accept their adult child's decisions. However, the word "acquiesce" implies permission or allowing the child to make their own decisions. Permission doesn't play into it. The adult child has a right to make decisions, full stop. No permission needed. In fact, it would be terribly condescending and disrespectful for a parent to either grant or deny permission to their adult child for anything that does not directly affect the parent. 

Many times, I've pondered over what I will do when my children are grown. Under what circumstances should I give them advice? So far here's what I've arrived at:

1) I will give them advice when they ask for it, if I think I am qualified to give advice.

2) If I feel the need to offer advice, I will ask if I may advise them, and abide by their reply.

3) The only time I will give "pushy" advice that oversteps those boundaries is when I see clear, present, extreme, certain danger. Not something that I think *might* be dangerous, not a situation that *could* turn out poorly, not something that simply offends my own moral code, but REAL, BIG DANGER. I hope I never have a need to give that kind of advice.

Mostly, I hope to make the kind of decision that Susan has made - to recognize that my worries may do more harm than good to my child, and to find ways of handling my feelings other than to dump them onto my child. 

What do you think about duties, rights, and privileges, as they pertain to parent/child advice-giving? I invite you to continue the discussion on Susan's post.

coming out of the fog

I am the adult daughter of an abusive mother and an enabling father. 

It is difficult to speak these thoughts out loud, and doing so is a recent development for me, a personal resurrection.  Emotional abuse thrives on secrecy, as it keeps the subjects of the abuse compliant and easy to reach.  Those who try to cast it off are scorned, shunned, derided by the very people who should, in a better world, be their champions.  Children who grow up in an atmosphere of control and invalidation learn to be fearful of voicing their experiences.

An abuser etches harmful words on the souls of her children and convinces them that they are the truth. If the children are fortunate, somebody will be present who can smooth these words out and provide a healthy view of reality. If they are unfortunate, they will be alone, isolated, and confused regarding what is reality and what is a lie.  If they stand up for themselves, they will be punished, not only by their abuser, but also by others influenced by the abuser. They will be told not to air dirty laundry, even though talking about abuse is the only way to heal.  They will be told to forgive and to forget, even though forgetting means submitting oneself to abuse over and over and over again. They will be told to bury the hatchet, even though they are not the ones holding it. They will be threatened and shamed in the abuser's efforts to regain control and bully the abused person back into submission.

I am speaking these things in public because without openness, there is no healing, there is only the secrecy in which abuse thrives. That secrecy protects the abuser(s) and assures that their targets cannot escape. I know that a dysfunctional family, when exposed, experiences pain, feels raw.  That rawness is not my responsibility. It is the responsibility of the generations of dysfunctional parents before me, who each passed their burdens down to their children, intentionally or not. 

Once there was a girl who called me a whore, for a joke, repeatedly. When I stood up to her, she complained that I hurt her feelings. I understand that her feelings were hurt, but I do not regret standing up for myself, nor do I think she had much of a right to complain about her feelings being hurt by her friend asking her not to call her a whore any more.  Just so with parents who harm their children. I acknowledge that estrangement is difficult for those parents, but a person who does harm to another does not have the right to cry foul when the hurt person declares "no more." 

I have heard accusations. I have heard insults. I have heard litanies of my faults. I have heard demands. I have heard threats. I have heard some pretty words but not heard words surrounding them that make them seem meaningful, nor seen any actions that lead me to believe those pretty words are true. I have been subjected to fear, obligation, and guilt (FOG), the triple-threat of the dysfunctional family.  I have not heard introspection, self-reflection, thoughtful consideration, sharing of responsibility. I have not seen change.

Nobody wants an estrangement. Nobody picks it as their first line of emotional defense or starts it on a whim. Estrangement is not about one particular event or a grudge; it is about a pervasive pattern of behavior from which a person has decided to disentangle themselves in order to be happy and healthy. There is always, always a long, exhausting back story. Decades spent wishing for and trying to achieve change. A lifetime of hurt that runs through the past and continues into the present.

Nor does hurt negate positive memories. I have oodles of them. I also know that many of the parts of myself that I like a lot were influenced by my parents, and that they have many good traits. Happy memories and good characteristics still exist, even in abusive families, but they are not enough to excuse the abuse or to remove its effects. Moments of happiness do not obligate a person to dedicate herself to a lifetime of a broken relationship. 

I have four siblings.  I will not speak for them, because in families such as mine, each sibling has their own story and suffers their own effects. Individual impact is affected by birth order, gender, personality, favoritism, scapegoating, and so much more. I've seen how that plays out in the generation older than me. I know it will play out in its own way in my generation.  I love my siblings, enjoy my relationships with them, and appreciate the moments of compassionate witness and shared experience that we have. I know that not all of them will like my speaking in public. I have been informed - perhaps erroneously, perhaps accurately - that one or more of them think I'm delusional. I hope that this is nothing but the gaslighting of a woman struggling to get her narcissistic supply, but if it's true, I understand how a person could have that perspective.

I'm not delusional, though. I am me. I own my truth, the good parts and the bad.  

I was instructed recently to "end this," and so I am ending it. I'm done. 

I am coming out of the fog.

I will be myself. I will work to overcome the anxiety, fear, and shame that shackle me. I acknowledge the heredity and upbringing that contributed to these issues in the past, and take responsibility for handling them in the present time. 

I will not fraternize with people who do me harm, physically or emotionally.  I will not subject my children to such people. I will continue to build a community of reciprocal relationships with friends and family members who play actively positive roles in our lives and who show a willingness to work constructively together in times of interpersonal struggle. 

I will not allow any person to bully and intimidate my family via threats of legal action. 

I will be a compassionate witness for others who need to share their stories and come out of secrecy, whether it is about abuse or any other personal trial. I will express my gratitude to the friends who share their struggles with me in order to let me know that I am not alone.

I will work hard to be a truly loving parent who understands who her children are as people, who will respect their rights, who rejects control-based parenting advice with its negative views of the nature of children.  I will listen to my children's concerns. I will acknowledge my mistakes and apologize genuinely to them. I will not shame them or withdraw love from them when who they are is at odds with who I am. I will not use my size, experience, or age to oppress them. I will exercise patience, self-restraint, compassion.

I will expect my husband to confront me and support my children when I harm them. I will support them when they believe that he has done something unfair, or when I witness him doing something hurtful. We will work as a family to encourage an atmosphere of respect for all members, regardless of age. 

I understand that my children may choose their own paths.  I will work to be open to their criticism and understanding if, despite my intents in this time, I fail to play a sufficiently positive role in their lives. I will accept whatever relationship they wish to have with me in the future. I do not own their bodies or their minds, now or ever. 

We are each the captains of our own souls. I greet those who sail with me in this time, even as I bid farewell and smooth sailing to those with whom I can no longer travel.