All Parenting Is Imperfect, Isn’t It?

What is perfect parenting? I have no idea. So what are we all aspiring to? The standards are too high, people! Too high. Here’s the Parenting U segment from KFSM Wake Up With 5News a couple of weeks ago.

Venture Capitalists at the Video Arcade

The other night we had an end-of-hockey-season party at a pizza buffet that also has a video arcade. It’s one of those places that gives tickets in exchange for playing games. When you tire of playing games, you get to redeem the tickets for stale Tootsie Rolls and temporary tattoos. When my kids asked for money I first said no, and then gave them each a dollar. They were gone for what seemed like hours. Once my husband and I had finished eating, catching up on hockey parent gossip, and arguing about our disparate discipline policies in front of others, we headed to the arcade to retrieve the children.

Between them they had 6,583 tickets.

“How did you get all those from two dollars?” I asked.

“We used other kids’ money.”

“Oh, no,” I was horrified. “You mooched?”

“No, the other kids gave it to us.”

My children competed in their excitement to tell me how they had struck deals with their teammates. The other kids put up the money, my kids played the games for them, and they all split the proceeds. My kids had investors.

It’s a long ways from the days of Pong.

Parenting and Hunting – What Message Am I Sending?

Part of the reason I’m able to write for a living is that I make money from advertising and commission on sales from links to Amazon and Ebay from HubPages, where I write primarily on parenting topics. My sales report from Amazon typically includes titles like What to Expect When You’re Expecting and lots of Dr. Sears. The occasional body pillow. Maybe a board game. These all make sense.

What is a mystery was my highest profit item last month: a hardwood hunting bow. I’m not complaining mind you; the commission was over $10.

I write occasionally on discipline, and it could be argued that I’m rather strict. But I’m going on record here to let you know that I never, under ANY circumstances, endorse bow hunting of children. Beating with a stick, sure, but leave the heavy equipment out of it.

Smartass Family Politics

At breakfast the other day my daughter was being especially sweet to me. In an effort to extend this kind of treatment to my husband and son I told her how much I loved her, my sweet little sweetie pie.

“At least someone around here is nice to me,” I said.

“Sure,” my husband said. “You should hear her when we get in the car. She’s real nice then. That’s when she really makes fun of you.”

Not wanting to break the spell, my daughter launched a protest. “No I don’t. Daddy’s just saying I’m a bad person.”

I didn’t know how we’d gotten from teasing to morals. “Oh no, Sweetie,” I said. “He’s not. Besides, making fun of someone doesn’t make you a bad person.”

My son, who’d stayed out of it up to this point, let out one of those puffs of air that says oh-give-me-a-break-would-you?

“Mom,” he said. “You’re just saying that because you make fun of a LOT of people.”

This is the part where I stopped talking.

Parenting Dilemma #8754: Cell Phones

Just after school got out last spring I had this discussion with some other parents of soon-to-be sixth graders regarding cell phones. Because I had pretty much made up my mind that I was NOT going to get my son a phone that he clearly did NOT need, I was pretty outspoken on the ridiculousness of the whole idea. That’s just my way among friends after a margarita and I’m not apologizing for it.

“You’ll change your tune,” they said. 

“What if he misses the bus?” they questioned.

“It’s really for YOUR convenience,” they assured.

So okay, yeah, whatever. I am now in the market for a cell phone. But I still think it’s ridiculous. Sort of like the 50-something inch TV that’s starting to look small to me now. Back to phones – let’s take a little trip down memory lane, shall we?

Back in the olden days we didn’t have cell phones. We didn’t even have cordless! All phones were attached to a wire and if you thought you might need to make a call you carried a quarter in your pocket for a payphone. If you were at school, you used the office phone.

Back in the olden days if you missed the bus you didn’t call anyone. You walked home.

Back in the olden days if you wanted to have a private conversation with your friend you had to stretch out the phone cord and hope your mom didn’t detach it from the phone while you were hiding behind your closed bedroom door down the hall. Unless of course you had a phone in your room, in which case you had to know your parents were listening in from the kitchen.

And back in the olden days we didn’t have our own secret text language that our parents couldn’t figure out. We had to be clever and make plans while they weren’t listening or watching. Whatever, Dad – no, you did NOT know were were ‘sneaking’ out the sliding glass door.

We didn’t have rollover minutes and faves and unlimited texting. It’s actually a miracle our thumbs didn’t fall off – like the vestigial tail –  from lack of use.

Hey, ‘Sup Man

At back to school night I greeted one of my son’s friends: Hey, Dude, what’s up? My sixth grader averted his eyes and we walked away in silence.

Mom, what have I told you about calling my friends Dude?

Um… Is this a trick question?

I told you not to do it.

Oh. Okay. What should I say?

Just say, hi, how’s it going?

Just then we spotted a neighbor girl.

Here’s your chance. Practice on Mackenzie.

I obeyed: Hi, how’s it going?

Not like that.

How then?

Okay, don’t say that.

What am I allowed to say?

Just say: Hey, ‘sup man.

Sweet.

The Case of the Easter Bunny

I admit it: I can’t wait until the days when the Easter Bunny no longer hops by our house. It’s not that I don’t like holidays, I just can’t take the pressure of having to be responsible for making them happen. And the trouble with children is that you can’t pull much over on them, especially when they seem to be on the elementary school track for pre-pre-law.

This is the story of one Easter Eve a few years ago. I lay in bed trying to fall asleep amid some low level tension because something just wasn’t quite right. Suddenly I bolted up, frightening my husband out of a sound snore.

“Oh crap!” I said, “I’ve got to do the Easter baskets!” I got up, turned on lights, rummaged through the guest room closet for baskets and candy, and set about making the sweetest little tokens of love from the Easter Bunny. I put them in the kids’ doorways and went back to bed, where the father of my children was sleeping just as peacefully as before my crisis.

In the morning the kids came to our room to show us their loot. My then six-year-old daughter looked up at me with genuine curiosity. “I wonder why the Easter Bunny gave us the same baskets as last year?”

Note: If you’ve been reading this column long, you already know that the Easter Bunny is a touch stingy. She doesn’t really see the point in buying new baskets year after year, and this was the year she decided to test her theory that the kids wouldn’t really notice anyway.

“Mom?” my daughter asked, “Are YOU the Easter Bunny?” Leave it to the little one.

I shook my head and offered up a little snort. “Do I look like I’ve been out all morning hopping around dropping off Easter baskets?”

She eyed me, weighing whether or not to push the matter. She was holding a bag of sugar after all. Finally, the little lawyer-in-training just wouldn’t let it go. “It’s just that you said the Easter Bunny was a girl AND the Easter Bunny knows what kind of books we like AND —-“
Maybe Mommy needed a basket full of Midol. I snapped. “I’m not the Easter Bunny. Okay?”

Everybody backed off the bunny.

When they asked later why the Easter Bunny didn’t give them very much candy this year, I told them maybe she knew they’d be getting a lot of candy at the Easter egg hunt that afternoon.

“Not that I would know,” I added. That was my fatal mistake. If this were a Grisham movie, there would be a close up on me as a bead of sweat made it’s way down my nose.

“Are you sure you’re not the Easter Bunny?” my son asked. His eyes narrowed. “Because usually when people say ‘not that I would know’ it means they know.”

It’s getting hard to come up with smart remarks, but not impossible.

“And usually when a kid asks too many questions about a basket of candy, it means they go to bed early and a monster comes in the night and eats all their candy.”

Case closed.

Image Credit: ButterflySha, Flickr

Like This? Try These:

• New and Improved Mother’s Day
• Not the Only Bad Mother
• A Case for Arts in Education
• Show Me the REAL Texts

Responsible Kids in 5 Easy Steps

I came across this information from “highly successful, pioneering educator and child development specialist”, Joy Berry. She espouses a philosophy that parents’ job is to “help children help themselves so they can become responsible for their own lives.” I totally agree. What I’m not too sure about are her Five Musts for Raising Responsible Children. What do you think?

• Parents need to begin transferring control to their children on day two of their lives.
  ~Seriously, Baby, get your own milk.

• A child’s happiness and success belong to the child, not to his or her parents.
  ~Unless they do something really cute – that you taught them.
  
• It is essential that parents empower their child with the proper living skills.
  ~Especially those that will enable the child to support his or her parents’ golden years.
  
• Never use punishment with children; it doesn’t work.
  ~True. Bribery often works better.
  
• One of the most important goals for a parent is to have their child 100% responsible for making their own decisions by age 12.
  Age 12? If we start on Day 2, I’m thinking this job is done by Day 12.
  

Berry says:

“As children become teenagers, they begin to pull away from their parents and want to begin living their own lives. It is imperative that several years before a child leaves the home, that they are fully responsible and are making good decisions. Following these basic steps can really provide children the
tools they need for making all the right choices.”

Really? All the right choices? Dish me up some of that.

Here’s my two cents. Making good decisions is a lifelong endeavor. Where is this utopia in which our children are fully capable of making good decisions at 18, or whenever they leave home? I like Ms. Berry’s ideas in theory, but let’s not set ourselves up for failure. As parents we must accept that this job is forever, that our kids are going to screw up and so are we. It’s life. This kind of ‘perfect’ parenting can make us feel inadequate.

What do you think? What’s your parenting philosophy?

Top 5 Reasons NOT to Make Your Kids Happy

Finally some really smart guys with letters next to their names have articulated my parenting philosophy. And they probably use much more eloquent language than ‘Clean your room or I will beat you with a stick’. But it’s the same idea.

Aaron Cooper and Eric Keitel have written I Just Want My Kids To Be Happy to teach us all why that’s such a damaging stance. I haven’t read the book – and I probably won’t because I’m more of a feel-my-way kind of mommy. But here are some excellent points they provide on their website. Couldn’t agree more…. (my comments italicized)

1. Youth in Trouble
Research reveals that youth today are more worried, anxious, and depressed than youth in earlier decades. Many factors play a role, but I just want my kids to be happy, the mantra of millions of parents nowadays, may be a leading culprit, shaping children who are less resilient, and more distressed by the ordinary challenges of daily life.

Making them happy is also making them lazy, unaccountable for their actions and basking in an unearned sense of entitlement.

2. What’s for Dinner?
Millions of parents have pledged their allegiance to the happiness of their children: I just want my kids to be happy. But few parents know that families who sit down together for dinner five or more times a week seem to have happier children—less depression, better grades in school, less involvement with drugs and alcohol.

Yes, it’s a pain to make dinner. But it’s not really THAT difficult. We’ve got scientific data – sit, eat, talk!

3. What Happened to Child’s Play?
Millions of parents have pledged their allegiance to the happiness of their children: I just want my kids to be happy. But few parents know that abundant time spent in free, unstructured play, beginning in the earliest years of life, lays a critical foundation for happiness later on. Research shows that kids spend less time engaged in true play compared to generations past, which may compromise their future happiness.

Simplify. No matter how badly we want our children to have (and do) everything we didn’t, there are still only 24 hours in a day. Let them play. (Let yourself play too!)

4. The Myth of Quality Time
Millions of parents have pledged their allegiance to the happiness of their children: I just want my kids to be happy. But few parents know that a child’s happiness in later life—and their healthy emotional development—depends more on the quantity of time spent with a parent than limited chunks of so-called quality time.

I don’t know about this one. I don’t really know what quality time means. What I do know is that if the first 10 are any indication, 18 years goes by really fast. I don’t want to have any regrets. That said, you can overdo it. Trust your gut. If it aches, you’re doing something wrong.

5. Your Teenager Won’t Admit It!
Despite how it may seem—teens holing up in their room with an iPod or on the cell phone, yakking with friends—studies have found that teens themselves admit they’d like more time with parents. Feeling connected to parents is an important dimension of any youngster’s life—it’s an important contributor to a child’s happiness—and teens are no exception.

I’m not here yet, but even as pre-tweens my kids are exhibiting more and more of a whatever attitude. They still want me around, but they want me to know that less and less every day.

Please let me know if you read the book, because I’m sure I won’t. But I do support the ideas and hope they take hold.

What’s Up For New Years?

I’m just wondering today if every other parent in the world is as lame as I am, or do any of you have cool plans for New Years?

Creative ways to party as a parent?

Tips for scoring the ‘good’ babysitter?

Let’s share, shall we? (Come on, I know you’re not actually working today…)

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