Bullying Hurts: Parents Play an Essential Role in Dealing With Bullying Behaviors

When your happy, well-adjusted 5th grader sends you a text messages from school saying, “Please come and get me. Everyone hates me. My life is ruined,” you know there is a problem.

Upon receiving these texts from my son a few weeks ago, my mind immediately raced back to my daughter’s 5^th grade year when she first experienced bullying behavior by her peers. I explored the subject of bullying amongst girls and wrote an article in 2007 for Minnesota Parent Magazine entitled “Girl Swirl.” Six years later, and even after experiencing some relational aggression with my older son’s peers, I am still blown away by how incredibly mean kids can be to one another. Kids desperately want to feel included, popular and important and will go to great lengths to secure their spot in a group.  When a group decides to pick on someone because he is a threat, isn’t following the leaders of the group, or the group simply wants to get their kicks or exercise power by putting someone else down, most kids will choose to go along with the group, rather than stand up to the group leaders. These kids are well aware that any one of them could easily become the next victim.

Recently, I got a call from the middle school dean who informed me that my son was punched in the stomach twice during a football game scuffle that occurred during recess. My son later informed me that this was the second time that he had been punched by the same boy. The first time happened during gym class when my son was sticking up for another boy whom the aggressor was teasing, and the aggressor punched my son twice in the face.  This incident, however, was not reported, by my son nor the gym teacher. The boy who punched him was sent home after the second incident, which caused an uproar amongst a group of boys, many of whom were my son’s friends (or at least he thought they were). Since this incident, my son has been blamed for the boy being sent home and subsequently has been teased, excluded, and targeted as the guy to “hit” during touch football games, which often turn into tackle (which was against the rules but went unnoticed by the recess monitors).  He has heard boys repeatedly talking behind his back and knows there have been disparaging texts being sent about him. Friends who he thought were his friends have changed their minds about him and have decided that he no longer requires even a “hello.”

The school is aware that he is being targeted, and I made some calls to some of the moms of the boys who are involved, with whom I am friendly. But not much has changed. My son, for the last few weeks of school, has felt much like an outcast when he walked into school. Thankfully, the school year is now over and my son does have some loyal and kind friends who were/are not afraid to stand with my son during this difficult time, even at the risk of falling victim themselves.

My hope is that over the summer, the boys will have a chance to cool off, forgive and forget, and that my son’s fear of starting 6^th grade as a target of hate will not be realized. As my heart aches for my son having to experience these feelings, I find myself wondering, do all kids get a touch of this at some point during their adolescent years? Does anyone get through these years unscathed?  And what is our role as parents to help our kids deal with these difficult issues surrounding friendship, group dynamics and social hierarchy…and bullying.

My son is not perfect. I am sure he is guilty of saying something mean to someone. I know he has changed his mind about certain friends and decided to create some distance.  But to my knowledge, he would not go out of his way to deliberately hurt or exclude someone.

Actually, I take that back. He did try to exclude a friend/turned non-friend once, and I knew that as a parent I most definitely needed to take an active role to help guide him through some of his choices and refuse to allow him to act this way. A few months ago, when my son asked me if he could have a big group of friends over on a Friday after school, I was happy to comply. When I asked him whom he was inviting, I realized that there was a good friend of his who was not on the list. “I don’t like him anymore,” he responded when I inquired about him. “Ok, he doesn’t have to be your best friend but you are not going to exclude him from this gathering. It will be very hurtful to him and I am not going to let you do that,” I told him calmly. “O.k., then I won’t have anyone over,” he said. I told him that I was fine with that.

He did end up having the gathering, and he and the boy he wanted to exclude (but didn’t) reconciled their differences and are now very close friends again. As parents, we have a very important job to do when it comes to dealing with our children and bullying. We need to play an active roll in helping them manage their behaviors and their relationships, without trying to micromanage their every move. Their friendships will indeed ebb and flow, and feelings will undoubtedly be hurt sometimes, but it is essential that we as parents are aware that bullying is different than the having a falling out with a friend or changing friend groups.

Here are some important points to consider when dealing with your child and issues around bullying:

• If you get a call from your child's school or another parent who says that your child is acting overly aggressive toward a peer or peers, or if you see signs of this kind of behavior in your child, take it seriously. It is not a joke or a game or “just kids being kids.”
• If your child denies any wrongdoing, continue to have conversations with your child about your expectations of him, and be very clear that you expect him to be inclusive and to treat others with kindness, respect and compassion, and that it is not okay for him to do or say hurtful things to anyone, or to participate in any sort of “ganging up” behavior.
• Be a good role model and make sure that your own children are treating each other respectfully in your home.
• Check your child’s phone and social media outlets for evidence of bullying behavior. If you find that your child has been engaging in cyber bullying, give them appropriate consequences like taking their phone or computer away, and encourage and empower them to stop the bullying cycle amongst their peers.
• Explain to your children that bullying is serious, will not be tolerated and there will be consequences for this type of behavior. Make sure that they understand the kinds of effects that bullying can have on kids like the fact that “at least half of suicides among young people are related to bullying.” (http://www.bullyingstatistics.org/content/bullying-and-suicide.html)
• If your child is being bullied, monitor him closely and watch for signs of depression or even suicidal behaviors.
• Advocate for and empower your child and teach him how to advocate for himself. Contact the school and other parents, and make them aware of what your child is experiencing. Allow the “mamma bear” to arise in you, and do what you need to do to try and make sure your child will be safe.
• Encourage your child to reach out to kids who are consistently kind. Even when you are beyond the stage when you can arrange play dates for your child, it is still okay to contact a parent of a child whom you feel would be a positive, supportive friend to your child and arrange for the kids to do an activity or a camp together.
• If you do these things and still feel that your child is not safe in his school environment, it may be necessary to make a change.  Even when tormentors are threatened and disciplined by authority, there are so many cases wherein individuals or groups of kids will continue to find a way to make other kids’ lives miserable.

It is extremely painful to watch your child endure tormenting and exclusion by their peers, and it is also uncomfortable to know that your child is a tormentor (although, unfortunately these behaviors are often ignored or denied by parents). And it is very difficult as a parent to know what your role is in managing these issues. But whether you are the parent of a victim, an aggressor or quite possibly both, make sure your are dealing with these issues head on and that you working with your child to help him develop the tools he needs to constructively manage his relationships throughout his formative years.

What Nobody Tells You About Your Teen's Final Days as High Schooler

You would think that after 18 years of parenting I would truly grasp the notion that when entering a new phase with your child, nothing will go quite as expected. Well, I certainly had expectations of how things would be with my graduating senior; how there would be lots of memorable bonding moments during her final days at home and how our house would be bubbling with excitement as she prepares to embark on her next phase of life. Well, once again, I have been blindsided, and what is happening in my house, with my daughter who graduates tomorrow (but has been done with school for a week) is a far cry from the goodbye bliss I expected.  Maybe some parents are experiencing harmony with their graduate, but from my own experience and in talking with other parents, I have learned that the reality of this transitional time looks and feels more like this:

1. Graduation week is like landing on another planet. You feel like you are having an out of body experience because you swear that it was yesterday that you were wearing that cap and gown…and as you snap yourself back into your reality, you continue to look at your kid (mine has said to me on more than one occasion, “Mom, why are you staring at me?!”) and you wonder how 18 years could have gone by in a FLASH!
2. They break up with you…in a very ungraceful way. They act like they are done with you during a time when you feel that you want to be spending more time with them. But their priority is their friends. From making the grad party rounds to just hanging out at friends’ houses, you will not find them anywhere near you. And even if they do breeze in, it is only temporary, and they usually ask for money, or just need to eat or possibly sleep for a while.
3. They regress. I really wanted to record my daughter today as she tantrummed on the phone and spoke to me like a toddler who wasn’t getting her way. Her tone is often laced with annoyance—annoyance with me that I am still standing in her way to FREEDOM!
4. If you expect gratitude, you will most likely be disappointed. “Thank you, mom, for 18 amazing years. Thank you for pouring your heart, soul and pocketbook into raising me. I know that I am the person I am today, in large part because of all the love and support you gave me.” Nope, not even close! Did not hear these words and realize that I probably won’t—at least not for a while. What I do hear is more along the lines of, “Mom, you are so annoying! Why are you imposing so many rules right now?! You know I am leaving for camp in 10 days (to work as a counselor) and then will be off to college soon after! I am so excited to get out of here! To not have to follow your rules! UGH! Can I have the car keys?” Harry Chapin was so right on, "See ya later, can I have them please?"
5. Their feelings of nervousness and anxiety are released in bursts. I had some variation of this conversation at least 10 times in the last month, Me: "How are you feeling about leaving? Do you want to talk about it?" Her: “No, I am great, fine, excited. Can you stop asking me?" However, the 11^th time, the response is something like this: “How do you think I am feeling?! I am super anxious! I have to say goodbye to all of my friends and my boyfriend, I have to get all my dorm stuff and I didn’t get into the dorm that I wanted so I don’t even know where I am living or who my roommate will be.

And what if:

I can’t stand my roommate;

I don’t make friends right away;

I can’t find my way to all my classes;

There aren’t yoga classes offered at the campus gym;

I don’t like the dorm food;

I can’t find fresh fruit to make my smoothies;

I don’t get into all the classes I want;

I don’t get into the sorority I want?

I’m super overwhelmed and I’m freaking out!  But I have to be at a grad party in 15 minutes! Bye!”

As I commiserate with other moms of my daughter's friends about this pivotal time, there is a consensus that most of our daughters are a bit unglued right now, and the push-pull cycle is in full swing—with a heavy emphasis on the push. They are breaking away and it is not pretty.  A friend of mine who has four daughters (her youngest is a recent grad) revealed, “You will have times during this process when you will say under your breath, ‘Yep, you’re leaving soon. Well, don’t let the door hit you in the a**!'”

I admit it. I have felt it. But then 20 minutes later, I come across an old picture that she drew for me when she was five, and I realize that she can do all the tantrumming and breaking up with me that she wants, but she will always be my girl.

The Final Weeks of Her High School Senior Year

I finally took a breath. Less than 24 hours earlier my daughter called and said with a certain amount of panic in her voice, “Another girl was supposed to have the senior skip day party but now she can’t so it’s okay that I told people they could come to our house, right?” “Isn’t senior skip day tomorrow,” I asked tentatively. “Yes, she said.  I paused. “I don’t think everyone will come though,” she said to fill the silence. “There are 80 seniors, right,” I asked as my mind raced to figure out how I could pull this off as my husband was out of town until early the following evening, I was headed to my son’s baseball game, had another commitment after his game, a meeting first thing the next morning and two more later that afternoon. “Ok, Sophie,” I said softly. “Thanks, mom, I gotta go, I’ll call you later.”

I raced through the next 24 hours, showing up for my commitments, filling my cart up at Costco, but feeling anxious and snapping at my kids and my husband when he called from out of town. As Sophie and I raced to go pick up tables at my sister-in-law’s house, just hours before the guests would arrive, she said, “Mom, sometimes you take the joy out of things because you get so uptight and anxious. This is not a big deal, it’s just some kids coming over. We just all want to be together.”

Ha! Just some kids coming over?! I wanted to yell at her and tell her that she doesn’t understand what it really takes to feed 60-80 people, to be unsure of how many people are actually attending, that my house is not as clean as I want it to be, that I am hosting a graduation party for her in a month, that I was a bit annoyed that I would not be able to go watch my oldest son’s baseball game that afternoon, that I was overwhelmed even before she sprung this upon me, that I wish I would have had more notice, that I wish my husband was home and didn’t travel so much…

But I didn’t yell, I mentioned a few of the above-mentioned issues but mostly just listened to what she said and let it sink in. She was right. What she said about me was sometimes true.

We drove in silence, picked up the tables and drove home. “I’m sorry, Soph, I just have a lot on my plate right now.  Are you excited to have everyone over,” I asked. “Yes, I am, mom,” she replied. “Thanks for doing it.” “My pleasure, “ I smiled at her as my heart softened.

But then it was back home to the flurry of her friends barreling in and tossing hot dog buns, watermelon, corn, brownies and drinks on my kitchen counter; and then firing up the grill to begin preparing the meal. The evening swirled as my husband got home, another mom came over to help, my sister and brother-in-law came over to lend a hand and check out the action, my son returned from his game, my two younger kids were trying to steer clear of the chaos, and more and more seniors arrived, all of them seemingly giddy, after a day of skipping school and possessing that incredible feeling of being done with high school (well almost done: done with classes but heading into two weeks of a chosen internship). They ate, talked, laughed, played volleyball, jumped on the tramp and signed yearbooks.

I was busy in the kitchen when all of the sudden I looked over at my friend who was breaking graham crackers and chocolate bars for the s’mores that the kids would soon be making, and said, “I have to stop. I have to sit down and look outside for a minute and take this all in.”

I walked over to the window and sat down in chair. I finally took a breath as I stared outside at these kids who were no longer kids. They were young adults, many of whom I watched grow up. I saw two boys (young men) perched up in Josie’s tree house heckling a classmate and then ducking down so she couldn’t see where the call was coming from. “They are still like little boys,” I said to my friend. But they aren’t little boys any longer, even if they still want to play like them.

I saw my daughter laughing, playing volleyball; appearing so happy and carefree. I wanted to go hug her and tell her how happy I was for her. How happy that she invited all her friends to our house. How excited I was that she had reached this stage of life—this stage at which she had freed herself from the angst of adolescence and was right smack dab in the middle of the “I’m free and life is an empty canvas” stage of teen land.

At that moment I felt so grateful for her, for the 18 years that I have had with her, and for all that she has taught me about life.  The 18 years seemed, at that moment, like a blip, like a sliver of what I prayed would be her long and lovely life, As I heard her roar of laughter and high-pitched screech of excitement, I blinked and she was three. There she was, playing with her friends, playing ring around the rosie, laughing and squealing with delight whey it was time to “all fall down”! A sense of peace flooded over me with the realization that my first-born baby was 18, happy and free, and that she still emotes the same joy as she did when she was a little girl.

Thoughts of the mess outside and the dishes in the sink snapped me out of my trance. “Thanks so much for hosting this for us so last minute, Mrs. Burton,” the seniors said with sincerity, as they slowly filed out of my house in small groups.  My heart was full—full of the many blessing that my daughter has given me, including the gift of filling my house up with her friends’ laughter and youthful energy.  And the gift that she had given me earlier that day—the reminder about not letting my stress to get in the way of my ability to enjoy the moment—allowed me to set aside the worry of my messy kitchen and find gratitude and joy in experiencing my daughter’s happiness and the happiness of all of her wonderful friends, who, as they are all getting ready to head out and find their way in the world.

“This goes down as one of my best senior memories,” one of my daughter’s closest friends said as she hugged me good-bye. “Me too,” I said with a smile as I hugged her back, struggling to let go.

“The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow. So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep! I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.”

(A poem I have had in my kitchen since my second child was born.)

May Madness and the Aftermath--Looking Back

I posted this piece on my former blog a little over a year ago, but as the madness of May 2013 is in full force and as we approach the year marker of my father-in-law's death, I decided to share it again:

I do understand that the NCAA coined the term March Madness for the flurry of college basketball games played throughout the month, however, I do not think this kind of madness holds a candle to the madness that most mothers feel in May. For one thing, if you have any campers, the stacks of camp forms (which include having up-to- date physicals) are due. Spring sports are in full swing and this year, between my two boys (one of whom was rostered on four baseball teams, yep four) we were at a field, sometimes two, almost every night of the week and on weekends. My youngest daughter plays soccer and because they weren’t going to be able to have a team for her and her buddies if no one stepped up to coach…well, sure, I will figure out how to make it work. And I know so much about soccer! Not…never played a day in my life.  And it is only two nights a week. What?! Not really sure how these logistics are going to work.  And then if you happen to have high-schoolers like I do, it is finals prep time (and in my house, finals freak-out time), and if you happen to have a junior (soon to be a senior) like I do, let’s throw in the SAT or ACT tests this month as well!

Then there is a sprint for the finish at our kids’ school with events that I had never even heard of until enrolling my kids at this school: portfolio day, field day, staff appreciation day, 4^th grade graduation, closing ceremonies for lower school, middle school and upper school (all on different days), baccalaureate (where the first graders—yep, I have one of those too—sing to the outgoing seniors). And, my daughter’s birthday party was also in the month of May, as well as my mother's 70th birthday. And oh, that Mother's Day in May idea...yeah...sure.

In addition to the above-mentioned mayhem, which made my head and heart spin on a very regular basis, this May was especially heart- wrenching for my family. My father-in-law, who fought a courageous battle with pancreatic cancer for 4 ½ years, passed away on May 12^th (his 77^th birthday).

The madness of May, however, did not allow much time for the necessary process of grieving.  We took time to honor my father-in-law with a beautiful funeral and a three-day shivah (time of mourning when friends and family gather to support the family of the deceased).  But before any of us were ready, the kids had to take their finals, return to their sports, my husband had to return to work, and we all had to return to the plethora of other events sprawled all over the calendar.  And I had to continue to guide the ship, and keep everyone moving in the right direction, which at this point was getting through the end of the school, helping them study for finals and finish up final projects, trying to keep their spirits up but also supporting them in their grief.  I also needed to be there for my husband, who seemed to be in a state of shock and needed the space and time to digest all of this.  And quite honestly, there were days that I didn't think I could do it all; days that I wanted to run for the hills!

I felt consumed by grief, my own and everyone’s around me, and in making sure that everyone else was okay. This is when I knew I needed to, in addition to taking care of them and their needs, I needed to find a way to take care of myself.  I went back to teaching the high energy yoga sculpt classes that I love and to my writing.

We all got through the next few weeks and found our way to the end of the school year. My kids did fine on their finals, they contributed on their sports teams, and we managed to find time to talk about Papa and how we will miss him.  The last day full of school was Friday, June 1^st   and I felt a certain lightness as May had turned into June--summer was here and we would all have a little break from the madness.  But this lightness did not last long.  Five of my son’s friends came home with him from school that day. They were all playing wiffle ball in the back yard and I asked them if they wanted to go to the pool.  Some said yes, and some said no. They took a vote. Going to the pool won.

The boys, my youngest daughter and I all piled in my car and drove over to a nearby pool.  They played basketball and swam. We had been there for about an hour and I was talking to a friend when I heard a whistle blow three times. Kids scurried out of the pool. My heart stopped as I watched a lifeguard pull out, what looked to me like a lifeless little body, from the pool.  A boy, 6 years old, a kindergartener at my kids' school, attending a birthday party. The rest of the details still haunt me, and writing them down is just too painful. But when I settled into my car with my group of kids, we prayed. We prayed for Nicolas. We prayed for a miracle. But not long after we left, we sadly found out  that Nicolas was dead.

Witnessing the two deaths, one of a loved of and the other, a horrible, tragic death of a child, my heart exploded into a zillion pieces and I have been working on putting it back together since. My kids fill me up with so much love and joy, my husband is slowly smiling a bit more, and thank g-d for my amazing family and friends.  Not long after the pool event, we took an Alaskan cruise with my side of the family, during which ironically it was rainy, windy and cold for 90 percent of time.   Then, we sent our teenagers off to their amazing camps, and my sister and I planned and pulled off a surprise 50^th wedding anniversary for our parents.

It is mid-July now, and I am trying to take it one day at a time. The days and nights are calmer; the pace is slower, and a lot less frantic. I am ever so grateful for this time to think, to write, to teach, to grieve and to let go.  Grateful that I don’t have to rush off to work every day no matter what is going on, as so many moms do. Sometimes in the midst of those ever-so chaotic times when the world is moving faster than you feel like you can grasp, when life seems to throw you curve balls that you are not able to dodge, I would say that as a mother, it can be very tricky.  As you deal with your own pain and fear, you must deal with your children’s as well. And each child processes life’s curve balls differently, and they don't really tell you what their process is, because most likely they don't know. Some like to talk about how they feel, some internalize, some move to anger, and others want to pretend that everything is fine.

As a mother, it can be downright excruciating to try to help navigate your child through their process of grief, as we are not even always sure how to direct ourselves. But in the spirit of yoga, my advice would be to stay present, be honest with your feelings, take time to heal, and believe in your heart of hearts, and share with your children, that “this too shall pass.” Life can be complicated, scary and often does not make a whole lot of sense, but hang onto those you love, and somehow, some way, your world will come back into focus even though it may look and feel slightly or significantly different.

Bill Gates and I Share Something: Thoughts on Kids and Cell Phones

“Mom and dad, you are the ONLY parents of my friends who won’t let their kid get a cell phone! You are don’t trust me, do you?! You are being over-protective and unfair!” Well, it’s a good thing Bill Gates isn’t his dad (hmmmm…actually, not so sure about that...) because Bill Gates has heard all that from his own kids and still makes them wait, by today’s standards, a very long time to get a phone.

Today was a big day for me.  As I was doing some research on the “right” age for kids to get a cell phone, I came across an interview with Bill Gates that made me feel much better about "torturing" my children by making them wait longer than the majority of their friends to get a cell phone. Bill Gates told Matt Lauer on the Today Show (very end of the interview) that the appropriate age for a kid to get a cell phone is 13. Yes, 13!

But as you can probably guess, Mr. Gates is most  certainly in the minority.  According to a 2010 National Consumers League survey, “Nearly six out of 10 (56 percent) of parents of “tweeners” (children aged 8-12) have provided their children with cell phones.

Over the past six months, my 11-year-old has launched a campaign to be included in the 56 percent. He has begged, pleaded, cried and added on to the above-referenced sales pitch, “Mom, Dad, I HAVE to get a cell phone! Every other person in my grade has one except for like one or two kids!  I REALLY NEED to get one! PLEASE!! I will work to pay for it and will get straight A’s in school! I promise!”

It was not the first time I had heard this speech.  He must have borrowed the script from his older sister and brother, who both gave us the same Oscar-winning performance when they were around his age. What I have come to realize over the years is that even though Mr. Gates mandates that 13 is the magic number for his kids and I too agree that waiting is better, this is a very complicated issue for parents and children.

The reality for kids today is that they do feel extremely desperate when it comes to owning a cell phone.  They are either “in” or “out” of the ever-so-powerful cell phone club—a club that is not necessarily linked to money or status, as cell phones have become much more affordable for families. So why does this club have so much power?  This power is about connection. Kids have an increasing, almost frantic need to be in constant contact with one another.  And furthermore, the various forms of social media provide a multitude of avenues for kids to feed this somewhat addictive need.

Whether they are texting, face-timing, instagramming, facebooking or vining, they are connecting with one another at the speed of light.  This power of communication and the instant, almost incessant connectivity with their peers keeps kids in the know.  To be outside of this circle of knowing is a dreaded, isolated place to be.

All three of my children were probably one of the last of their friends to get a cell phone. My oldest was almost 13, second was 12 and now my third is 11 (and yes, we did cave, sorry Bill, but resisted getting him a smart phone). My youngest daughter, who is 8, is already starting in, “But I am going to have to talk to my sister when she is at college next year, and some of my friends already have them.”  I remember when she was in kindergarten and a few of her 6-year-old friends had phones because both parents work and they wanted to be able to be in touch with their kids.

While I do understand that many parents purchase cell phones for their kids at young ages for safety reasons, and it is very convenient to be able to communicate with your kids via cell phone, I have been/am in no rush to make this purchase for my kids for a few reasons. One, we did not want to indulge our kids just because everyone around them is indulging or being indulged, we needed to feel that our kid was ready for the responsibility and that we were ready to give him that. The second and biggest for me is that I was/am in no rush to have them spend more time with their heads bowed, eyes focused downward and have them choose to connect with the screen they are holding in their hand instead of making eye contact with the people who are physically around them.  No, I am not a big fan of this typical behavior exhibited by cell phone-bearing tweens/teens (and many adults, including myself sometimes).  I am happy to report that even though we did allow our 11-year-old to have a phone, he is not really that into it (yet), does not carry it around with him all the time and actually often forgets it at home.  My teenagers...well, that is an entirely different story!

I want to say to them and to their teenage counterparts, "Hey kids! Disconnect! Look around you! Look up at sky! Look at people in their eyes. If you want to talk to someone, call him or arrange to meet her in person!" The Pew study found that half of 12- to 17-year-olds sent 50 text messages a day (I think this number is probably much higher now) and texted their friends more than they talked to them on the phone or even in person. To me, this is sad and I wonder how this is affecting our children’s ability to talk to other people in person, face-to- face, eye to eye.

As parents, no matter what age we decide to give our kids a cell phone (and there is no real right or wrong). we can continue to emphasize the importance of in-person communication and to limit their time with and their dependence on their phones. Here are a few simple rules that I try to enforce with my kids:

1) No phones in the car. Let’s talk to each other.

2) No phones at the dinner table. Let’s talk to each other.

3) We keep my younger son’s phone charger in the kitchen so he leaves it there to charge when he goes in his room to study or to sleep.

4) If and when I feel that they (or I) need a BREAK from their cell phones, I simply say, “Hand it over, please.” (Sometimes I forget the "please.")

There is No Good Way of Explaining Hate to Your Children

My husband and I were both born and raised Jewish. We both identify strongly with our Jewish faith. Our children attend/ed Hebrew and religious school and all four will be Bar/Bat Mitzvahed (two down, two to go). Yet, for many reasons, the most prominent being that we had family members attending, we made the choice to send our children to an Episcopalian school. A school that explains in its mission statement: “Our goal as an Episcopal school is to nurture the spiritual development of each person and to welcome everyone to our community.” And for the most part, we have all found this to be true.

I truly believe that the anti-semitism which two of my children experienced at school has nothing to do with the school they attend. Anti-semitism can happen anywhere. I remember the shock I felt when my dad told me that he was called a “dirty Jew” in high school. I had not experienced anything like this until I was in the work force, attending a trade show for a public relations client. I was working my client’s booth with a salesperson, who during a conversation about sales, casually said, “Yeah, you do have to be really aware of those people who will try to Jew you down.” I stood there in silence, feeling like I had just gotten kicked in the chest and had the wind knocked out of me, and took a moment to think about how I would respond. I thought about saying nothing and just letting it blow over, but then I felt a very strong force pushing me to speak. “What do you mean by that," I asked. "I am Jewish.” The look on this man's face was one of shame and regret, and he quickly engaged in some frantic back-pedaling while I just stood, stared and let him attempt to squirm his way out of this very uncomfortable situation.

It is hard to explain to kids how to handle such ignorance. Like when my daughter, several years ago, came home in tears and told me how a boy had approached her at school around this time of year and announced, “Hey, it’s Hitler’s birthday today!” How do you explain to your child why someone would say something like this, let alone be connected to this type of information or feel the need to share it with anyone, especially someone Jewish? Or when she sat down at a lunch table next to a group of kids who started chanting, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” making sure that she could hear. How do you explain the “why” to my son who, during the Holocaust unit in his history class, was targeted by a boy who made horrendous remarks to him including, “Why don’t you go put yourself in an oven?” There is no explanation for why people hate for the sake of hating, or discriminate for the sake of discriminating. Did they learn this at home? From the media? We won’t know. I am sure they wouldn’t tell. But hate is out there. It bubbles under the surface, and unfortunately sometimes children are the victims as well as the perpetrators.

As parents, all we can do is to teach our kids tolerance, kindness and respect, but also give them the tools to stand up for themselves and for others if they experience or witness such injustices. I grew up in a home where all were welcome. Any person, of any color or any religion were welcome at our Passover seders, Hanukah dinners, or just to visit. My kids attend a school, where, all children are welcome, and the school does make it a priority to assure that every student actually feels this way. However, unfortunately, very unfortunately, for reasons that I still don’t comprehend or have the ability to explain to my children, anti-semitism, bigotry, racism and just plain hate will surface and distribute its poison, even in environments where tolerance is taught.

We talked about the tragedy in Boston at the dinner table tonight and how sad we all felt that a child and two others died, and that so many others were injured. I thought that maybe my younger children would ask, “Why?” But they didn’t. Maybe they already understand that there is no real answer to why people hate and why people hurt others. There simply is no justifiable explanation.

Did You Know that Motherhood is a Competitive Sport?

I didn’t really either until I had kids. It starts when they are babies, “My kid is 18 months old and still doesn’t sleep through the night.”  “Oh really? Sucks for you, my kid started sleeping through the night the very first night he came home from the hospital and has done so ever since.”  Then the competitive banter moves to when they start walking, talking, reading, writing, adding, subtracting and goes all the way to their GPAs, SAT scores and what college they are attending.

I am all for healthy competition. I think it is part of what makes the world go around. But the idea that parents are competing with each other based on their children’s merits…to me, this is downright crazy!

Our children naturally compete with each other, hopefully in a motivating way, but competition can be difficult for kids to navigate. Parents can be helpful or hurtful in the way they teach their children to deal with competition. It is essential for parents to look inward and be aware of how much they are using their children’s accolades to boost their own self-esteem and their feelings about themselves as a parent. Beware of this mindset: “Just look at how great my kid is! I did this!”

This issue is often taken to an extreme when it comes to kids in sports. I am blown away by the adolescent behaviors that are demonstrated by adults when it comes to kids and their sports. Are some parents trying to realize their own unfulfilled dreams through their children? Do they have early visions of their kid playing at Wimbledon, the Super Bowl or the World Series and will stop at nothing to make sure these visions become a reality (and actually think that they have that much control)?  There are actually two issues at hand here. The first involves how hard parents push their kids in sports (and in life, which I will cover in another post), and the second is how some parents develop extreme levels of competition with other parents in an effort to try to get their child “ahead” of others.

As I talk with other moms about this, I find that I am not the only mom who has been completely ignored by another mom who is pissed off that my son was chosen for a certain team and hers wasn’t, or that my son was getting more playing time than hers. Mothers have shared with me stories of how teammates’ parents have marched into coaches’ offices and ranted and raved, “How could you choose Susie for the last remaining varsity lacrosse spot?! My daughter is so much stronger and has trained so much harder! That should be her spot!” And to get even more infantile, this mother will proceed to give both Susie and her mom the stink-eye any opportunity she gets.

I am not saying that I have not felt that surge of competition or even jealousy if another kid gets picked for a team or a position over my kid. Of course, I have, this is only natural. But it is what we do with these feelings that matters.  I am not mad at the parents of the kid who got picked over my son. I am not mad at the kid either. Or the coach. I may be disappointed but I try to deal with that disappointment, and not take it out on others.

How I treat my son’s teammates and their parents is not going to affect whether my kid gets more or less playing time, or gets the position for which he is competing. I wonder if some of these parents who chose to treat other parents and kids poorly think that this is some kind of intimidation tactic. The only word I can think of in response to that is, “ICK!”  Another disturbing fact that I have learned is that sometimes the kid, whose parents are acting like this, doesn’t care that much about whether he makes the team or gets on first or second line on her hockey team. Also, she has no problem with her teammates or their parents. It is solely an issue for the kid's parents! They are competing for the kid's spot on the team more than the kid is! So, what I would like to ask these parents is, “Who this really about, your kid or you?”

Obviously, this issue has hit a nerve with me. Quite honestly, I was very hurt and blindsided by a mom who recently chose to act this way toward me. All I can say is that if your kid is on my kids’ team, I will talk to you in the stands, I will cheer like crazy for your kid, as I do for every kid on the team, and this is what I will tell my kid about being on a team and competition:

• Work hard and always show respect to your teammates and your coaches.
• Cheer on your teammates! Even if you are sitting on the bench and are not happy about it.
• When it comes to direct competition with a teammate: Maybe you are better, maybe he is, but this competition will force you to continually strive to improve.
• Ultimately it is up to the coach to make the decisions for the team. Respect that (and so will I.)
• Welcome to life. It isn’t always fair. You will compete for a job. Sometimes you will get it, sometimes you won’t. End of story.
• Don’t ever give up, on yourself, on your team or on your coach.

Beware of the Burp Method!

This past weekend, my husband took our two boys to Champps for burgers without the bun because it was Passover and they couldn't eat the bread. Our younger son was, according to him, "STAAAARRRRVVVIIINGGG because there is nothing good to eat during Passover." So, they get to the restaurant and order their burgers and wait in anticipation. As soon as the food arrives, the boys (and their dad) dig into their cheeseburgers with bacon. (Hmm, they couldn't eat the bread because of Passover, but had no problem eating the burger with cheese AND bacon, which, if you know anything about the Jewish tradition of keeping kosher, is about as unkosher as you can get). After chewing his first bite, our younger develops a "I'm-not-feeling-so-hot" look on his face. His big brother asks him what's wrong. "I don't know, I guess I just don't feel that hungry anymore," his little brother responds. "You know that if you burp, you can make room in your stomach so that you can eat more food," big brother explains. "Really? O.k., I will try that," his younger brother says with excitement. He then takes a huge gulp of his Sprite and pauses. At this moment, their waiter approaches the table. "How's it going," he asks. At that point, our 11-year-old son, who is not a very big guy, lets out a ginormous, table-vibrating burp that literally emerged from the bottom of his belly. "That was a good one," the waiter said with a smirk, and he, my husband and older son erupted with laughter. But our younger son was not laughing, and just as the waiter was about to leave their table, our son opened his mouth, seemingly to let out another, guttural, big guy burp. However, instead of a burp, he released a heaping pile of vomit onto his plate. "Not such a good one," the waiter said, trying not to gag himself. Needless to say, my three boys quickly left the restaurant and when they walked in the house, I saw our son's ghostly complexion, and my husband and older son just said, "Have we got a story for you!"

Afraid to Go to School: Reflections on Gun Violence From an 8-Year-Old

"I am afraid to go back to school tomorrow," says my 8-year-old daughter after being home for spring break for two weeks. "Why, honey," I ask. "Because I am afraid we are going to have a lock-down. And I am afraid that someone is going to come into our school with a gun and start shooting. And mom, you know that anyone, really, can just walk into our school, any kid for sure. And the windows in our classroom aren't bulletproof, you know, and we have shades on our windows but there is a little crack in one so someone could for sure see in and shoot us all. Mom, why do people even buy guns? What do they need them for? I don't really feel safe anywhere cause there are lots of crazy people who have guns and shoot people." It was hard for me to even find the words to respond. I told her that the adults in the school would keep her and her classmates safe and that she need not worry. And that they need to have lock-downs because they need to make sure that everyone knows what to do if something happens. "Can you please just homeschool me," she pleaded. "Honey, you are safe at school. Really, you are," I responded trying to sound as convincing as I could. But the truth is, as much as we want to believe this, we don't this to be a fact. The families at Sandy Hook thought their kids were safe. And they should have been. Because school should be a safe place for our kids. (This is not always the case for children/schools in war-torn countries, but America...is this really too much to expect?) Children reach a certain age when they  start to make some difficult connections: there are school fire drills because a fire could actually happen, and subsequently, they understand that there are lock-down drills because some lunatic could enter their school and start firing away.

And this is the visual that is keeping my 8-year-old  up at night. What a sad reflection on our society.

"Honey, you need to go to sleep, it's late," I try to soothe her. "But when I close my eyes, I see scary things," she says. "When you close your eyes, just picture the sun in the sky, the bright, happy sunshine," I say. "That's just what I was thinking, Mom, that I will try to see the sun with my eyes closed," she says as she starts to relax. I stayed with her until her breathing became more steady and she drifted into what I hope would be a peaceful sleep. As I reluctantly pulled away from her, I whispered in her ear that I love her and will always do whatever I can to keep her safe.

Please keep her safe. Please keep all of our children safe.

Adolescence: A Right of Passage

(*I wrote this piece when my two oldest, now 18 and 16, were in the throws of adolescence.)  As I entered the parenting arena 14 years ago, I began to hear all sorts of talk about colicky babies, the terrible twos, and the f-ing fours (sorry, that’s what my friends called it).  But I noticed that people started to clam up a bit as their kids hit the earliest stages of puberty. When I’d complain about something my toddler was doing, like wetting the bed or throwing food at the dinner table, people with older kids would respond with a little chuckle, “Oh yeah, just you wait.”  And that’s about all they would say. But they would be grinning…in an almost evil kind of way. Adolescence sneaks up on us and we are almost blindsided by it.  It is a force that takes hold of our angelic kids and throws them into an internal turmoil, and one that lasts for years. Adolescents are sweet and kind, they LOVE you; you are the BEST! And then, with a flip of a switch, they HATE you!  They are NEVER going to talk to you again, they wish they had different parents, they tell you that you are doing everything wrong, you have no idea how to parent, you do not understand them and that if only you would listen to them, then things would go smoothly.  And for a split second you think that maybe they are right.  You question yourself as a parent and as a person, “What have I done?!”  You wonder if you are indeed qualified for this job.  You know you are supposed to remain strong but you feel very, very weak--almost overpowered--but you can’t let them see that.  You cannot show any signs of vulnerability or wavering because you know what they do with that!  They pounce!  And your son is on you once again, explaining with incredible articulation that if he doesn’t get to go to the concert that ALL his friends are going to without an adult chaperone, his life will surely fall apart.  He will miss the most important event of his life and will never be invited to another social gathering throughout junior and senior high. His friends will tease him that his parents are over-protective and they will never want to come over to his house to hang out so he just might as well just quit school because he is not going to have any friends! And P.S., IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!

It is a very strange time, adolescence.  It is a time filled with internal contradictions: A time of independence and neediness; growth and insecurity; confidence and fear; socialization and loneliness.  It seems as though you almost have to be a mental health professional to understand how to guide your kids through this time.  But do you?   Are there some basic presiding principles for parents that can help us to not only survive our kids’ adolescence but to actually do some good during it?  I am not a professional.  I have four kids from the ages of 14 down to 4, and most of the time, I am learning as I go (don’t tell my kids).  But I will share some things that I have learned over the years, and then will hand you over to a real professional who will share her insights and tips on raising adolescents by having a better understanding of them and what they are going through.

1) Don’t be afraid to say no. Setting limits and sticking to them is crucial to getting your kids to understand and respect boundaries.

2) Know your kids’ friends. Know their cell phone numbers. Look at their Facebook pages (as well as your own kid’s, of course!) Attempt to know the parents of your kids’ friends. And communicate with them. It takes a village to keep adolescents on the straight and narrow.

3) Communicate with your adolescent’s advisor or teacher/s. Find out how she is doing is school (not just academically).

4) Take every opportunity to talk with your child. Ask questions. Listen. Remember. Check in. And keep doing this. And when they don’t want to talk, come back later and try again, and again, and again. Do NOT give up on keeping the lines of communications open.

5) Remember to be the parent, not the buddy. They have buddies. They need parents to lead, guide, and advise them (even though they would never admit that).  Not that you shouldn’t have fun with them—au contraire, have a blast! But first and foremost, be a parent, not a playmate.

6) Stay cool when they “freak out.” They need the comfort of seeing you stay calm when they are feeling out of control.  A parent and adolescent both “freaking out” simultaneously… NOT a good thing (trust me, I’ve been there).

7) Show them love as much as possible. Even when they are “hating” you, they still need you to love them. And sometimes love comes in the form of tough love: “You can go to the concert with your friends under one condition; I will be sitting in the row behind you.”

So, there’s my stab at pretending like I know something about parenting adolescents.  Who knows, maybe by the time my 4-year-old gets to be 14, I will look back on this advice and have a good laugh. But with a 14-year-old girl and a 12-year-old boy, I am certainly in the throws of trying to figure things out in the adolescent arena (and yes, still dealing with the fun 4s as well…and then there’s my 7-year-old who will soon start to sneak toward the big A just as the older ones, oh please, are through it!). Thank goodness for professionals, right?! So, here is Katy McCormick Pearson who has worked with adolescents for the past 20 years as a special education teacher, Outward Bound Instructor, and currently as the middle school counselor at the Breck School in Golden Valley. Katy is also the mother of two emerging female adolescents:

Adolescence can be an exciting, turbulent, time for both parents and the adolescents themselves.  An adolescent person experiences changes in physical development at the rate of speed unparalleled since infancy.  An adolescent’s brain is not fully developed until a person is about 20-25 years old. The connections between neurons affecting the emotional and physical development are incomplete at this stage.  Many adolescents have difficulty controlling emotions, impulses and judgment due to this incomplete yet ongoing brain development.

The upside of the adolescent brain is that teens are able to engage in more logical thinking.  They can handle more options and possibilities in this stage of development and, therefore, can begin to grapple with abstract concepts such as faith, trust and beliefs.  Many teens become activists during this stage in life and appreciate being taken seriously.  They can be quick to see discrepancies with adult’s words and actions.  There is a strong sense of a need for justice at these ages.  Adults can help by including adolescents in developing rules and consequences for themselves.   It is important to provide structure for adolescents especially since their judgment/impulse control is not quite effective and many have a false sense of being invincible when in the throws of adolescence.

The main task of an adolescent is to establish their identity.  They are in a phase of life between childhood and adulthood.  They are starting to develop autonomy within relationships, establishing their sexual identity and learning how to further interact with intimacy in all of their relationships.  An adolescent’s body is often awkward as different parts align together.  Many adolescents are self-conscious and a bit “me-centered.”

Parents can help by encouraging healthy eating habits, exercise, and allowing time for those growing bodies to have a good night’s rest.  Don’t criticize or compare your adolescent to others. Patience and understanding is key when living and loving an adolescent.  Parents will need to be “the bigger person” and not take many interactions with their son/daughter too personally.    Remember that adolescence is a stage.  Enjoy the journey together.  Adolescence is a rite of passage and you are the guide.

Making Mistakes

They all do. Make mistakes, that is. Kids, adolescents, teens make mistakes.  (As do we, as parents, of course, but I will leave that issue for another post.) Our kids and young adults fall down, they hurt themselves, they cry, they get back up and try again. One of the hardest things I have encountered as I parent my four children, is knowing when to leave her/him on the ground for a while, and let her figure out how to pick herself up, or when to run to him right away and be the one to pick him up. When children are younger they obviously need help in getting up from their falls but as they get older, we need to start to resist the urge to come so quickly to their aid. My two older children are 18 and 16 and they each have made their fair share of mistakes. Yes, they have learned from them and yet I realize that they will continue to make them and hopefully continue to learn. But so often the real learning comes from letting your child endure the full consequences of their mistakes, which cannot happen if we quickly try to pick up the pieces for them or cushion their fall. One of the most instinctive drives we have as a parent is to protect our children, so the letting them fall strategy can be all but excruciating. And it goes further than that.  It is what we do from there.  Do we try to clean things up for them, erase their mistakes, cover for them, save them from embarrassment or shame? As an outsider, the answer seems so clear. Of course you don't do that. How will they learn? But I am here to tell you, that as easy as it is to know what to do, the execution of this is not so easy. Why? Because tough love is hard. Because they will ask (beg) for your help. They will feel alone in dealing with the consequences of their mistakes and they will try to pull you in.  The boundaries between their hurt and your hurt become clouded. But we know in our heads that we are doing them a disservice by taking on their pain because if they know that mom is going to feel badly about what they do, they are less accountable for their actions, and therefore the real learning will not happen. They will not own their own mistakes.  So as they tug at our heartstrings, and our own desire to scoop them up and make it all better kicks in, remind yourself that by resisting the desire to take the fall for them, you are helping them develop their own internal compass, which they desperately need to make good decisions, guide them through their lives, and ultimately to keep them safe.

What Happens on Senior Spring Break Trip Stays in…Hmmm…Where Do you Put it?

What Happens on Senior Spring Break Trip Stays in…Hmmm…Where Do you Put it? It’s kind of like having a baby, nobody really tells you what it’s like, you kind of just have to experience it. Or as a cousin and three senior spring break trip survivor so eloquently puts it, “You don’t really want to be there, but you certainly don’t want to not be there.” Well, I was there, in the beautiful county of Costa Rica with my husband, daughter and 16 of her friends (ten girls and six boys) and a dozen or so of their parents. I shared a lovely, eye-opening somewhat perplexing week with these bright, funny interesting, multi-dimensional teens and their fun and interesting parents. I will only share my story; my birds eye view of my daughter’s senior break adventure, without revealing any of the specific details that entailed. I loved so much about the trip; spending time with my daughter and her friends, getting to know some of the parents better and having some alone time with my husband. However, I do have to say that I felt like I was propelled into another universe during the seven mind-opening days and nights we spent at the all-inclusive resort. So, for those of you who will embark on such a journey some day, or are just curious, here are my most prominent, somewhat generalized and analytical take-aways from our senior spring break adventure:

Teenagers and their Brains: A Truly Compelling Senior Spring Break Study

After having the opportunity to watch this group of teens in action for a week, I couldn’t help but to stand back, observe and do some analysis. It quickly became clear to me how incredibly fascinating, complicated, unpredictable and adaptive the teenage brain is. I saw how powerful the group mentality is and yet how certain individuals are able to differentiate themselves and make their own choices regardless of what their peers are doing. I also saw how incredibly much teens need each other, oftentimes exceedingly more than they need their parents. They need to feel a part of a whole, to belong to something bigger than themselves, where they can feel valued, accepted and protected by their peers. I watched teens act impulsively and exercise self-restraint. I observed them taking incredibly dangerous risks when they shouldn’t, and other times act overly cautious and fearful for reasons that I could not comprehend. I watched them listen to and respect authority, and blatantly disregard adults’ rules and/or warnings. I saw them protect each other in almost animalistic ways, yet at other times, throw each other directly under the bus. As I watched all of this unfold, I vacillated between feeling appalled, exasperated and completely terrified, to feeling incredibly hopeful and inspired.

I realized that the stage of life that they are in right now is incredible. The world is their oyster. They are wrapping up the first chapter of their lives, which contains all the comfort and security of friends, school and home; and are preparing themselves to venture off into the world, without these securities.  They are filled with the excitement and anticipation of starting their next chapter, which will take them away from home, to college, where they will have a brand new start. But the transition from the known to the unknown also produces some anxiety and unease, which I could sense in every kid that I spent time with this week. Some do not know where they are going to college yet, they don’t know who their friends will be, where or with whom they will live, whether or not they will join a sorority or if they will play a sport. There is a blank canvas in front of each of them, and each one of them understands that they will need to get out their own paintbrush and start painting. And what their picture will look like, no one really knows.

So, in lieu of this ever so complicated, and somewhat internally tumultuous time in their lives, if your child does convince you to take him on a senior spring break trip with his friends to a foreign country where the drinking age is 18, have fun and I wish you the best of luck!  And please send me a note and let me know how it goes for you!

A Few General Senior Spring Break Survival Tips:

1. Talk about expectations BEFOREHAND. Put it all on the table, issues relating to drinking, curfew, etc. (and also know full well that things may change when you get there). However, make your list of absolute no’s and be very clear with your child.
2. Beware of wristbands. I am not going to tell you whether or not you should or shouldn’t allow your child to drink in a country where he/she is allowed to drink legally BUT if you stay at an all-inclusive resort, but I will tell you that once that wristband is securely fastened on your child’s wrist…let’s just say, that wrist band has power. And so do all the other teens swarming around the pool deck! (Just close your eyes and think of yourself at 18, or maybe you shouldn’t.)
3. Provide STRUCTURE! Whatever you do, if you are at an all-inclusive, make sure you plan excursions, fun things to do during the day that will keep your children busy and provide an alternative focus. Explore the country, ride horses, go ziplining, parasailing, hiking, rafting, snorkeling, anything to get the kids up and moving.
4. The Door Knock. When your child is out at night, make sure that she knocks on your door (if you allow her to  room with a friend, that is) when she comes back in for the night…no matter what time it is.
5. Don’t be afraid to hover. Hang out where the kids hang out at night. You don’t have to be right next to them but you can certainly be present.
6. Strictly enforce the buddy system. This is a hard rule for all kids vacationing in a foreign country: No one goes anywhere alone! Ever! END OF STORY!
7. Try to let go a little bit so that you can have some fun too!

Parking Space 604

I open the envelope and gently pull out parking sticker 604. My mind races and my heartbeat quickens. That space is in the senior lot—the lot that is designated for the “old” kids, the kids who are in their last year of high school, are applying to colleges, getting to close to graduation, and then they are…leaving. Parking space 604 is for someone else’s daughter, not mine. Because my daughter couldn’t be that old, she couldn’t be getting ready to leave. They must have sent us the wrong parking sticker. But they didn’t. It was hers. And all that applies to those older kids, now apply to her. But what does that make me? Kind of a mess. She was gone most of the summer. She has been gone for a portion of the summer since she was eight when she let me know that she didn’t want to go to a camp that only had a one-week session for her age group, she wanted to go to one that had a two-week session. “I don’t care if I don’t know anyone there, mom. I’m fine with that.” So she went, and she kept going, and going. And now, she is plotting yet another, more permanent exit strategy. Out of my house, out of her room, out from her spot at the dinner table, out from parking spot 604…and she is already starting to leave a big, huge, gaping hole in my heart.

We visit colleges. She loves them all! Each one is her favorite. Each one would work for her escape plan. She is not afraid. She craves adventure, new experiences, new people and new surroundings. And yet I see her looking at her 8-year-old sister more lovingly lately, and studying her, as if she is realizing that Jo will grow up without her big sister living in the house, and that they will miss each other—a lot. She hugs her little sister for a little longer. She tells her how much she loves her. I even heard her whispering to her, “You have to tell mom and dad to get you an iphone so we can face-time.” Jo tells her that she will. And her brothers, she is more affectionate with them too, and is much more accepting of the things they do that used to send her ranting about how completely annoying they both are. She knows she will soon be communicating with them from afar. She understands that things will be different.

Sometimes I feel “stuff” welling up inside of me and I’m not sure what it is. Sometimes I cry at the end of a yoga class when we are resting silently on our mats with our eyes closed and I have the chance to let go of all that I am trying desperately to hold onto.  I realize that the stuff that I am so carefully guarding within my chest cavity is the pain, sadness and fear that arises (but needs to be contained) when I try to wrap my brain and my heart around the fact that my oldest child, my first born, my oldest daughter will soon leave the nest that I have spent 18 years trying to make comfortable, warm and safe for her. She was the guinea pig. She turned me into a mom and provided me with my first stab at being a parent. In so many ways, she has been my teacher. And now, even though they say, you are not supposed to be friends with your child, she is my friend. Yes, I am still her mom, I set the limits, the expectations and do all that a good parent is supposed to do, but I can’t help that I really, really like her; that I find her to be one of the funniest people I know; that I love going into her room at night, flopping down on her bed and talking with her and listening to her—about anything. I like that she is smart and interesting and fun to be around. I like that she is honest, in a no b.s. kind of way, like when she tells me that my hair looks crazy or it’s time to color the grays, or that my shoes are not right for my outfit.  She tells me that I take too long to edit her papers and that I am taking way too long to write my book. But she also cheers me on and is supportive of my dreams. She is real, she is kind, she is passionate—the best kind of friend any person would want; how could she NOT be my friend?

Her exit strategy is working. She is going to be accepted to some of the colleges she applied to and she will pick one, and then...no matter how many tears I shed, she is going to hit the road. Her parking spot in the senior lot will be taken over next year by another child whose mom cannot quite place where the 18 years have gone. And I will move through this transition…somehow, just like all the courageous moms who have raised wonderful children and then set them free. And for the time being I will try and rejoice that her parking sticker says 604; that she is still parking in the big kid lot at the school my other kids attend. I will continue to smile and exhale when I hear her car pull into our driveway and when she barrels in through the door usually yelling something that I don’t understand.

Her presence is big in our house and in my heart and I intend to fully cherish it, even after her “operation exit home” is successful.

Look Mom! No More Training Wheels!

For the past 16 years, I have driven this kid around like a chauffeur. Basketball, tennis, baseball, school, friends’ houses, camps…a regular taxi service I was. And I am certain that I complained about it…just a few times. But today that would all change. The reality of the transition that was about to occur hit me when I got out of my car and the driver's license examiner got in and said, "We will be back in 15 minutes." "Okay, I will be here," I responded in a faint voice. I walked away and felt a surge of emotions: fear, disbelief, nostalgia all mixed up with excitement and anticipation. I stood frozen and stared at my car with my son and the tester inside, only to have my trance interrupted by my son bounding out of the car mumbling expletives, “Mom, you took the car keys!” “Oh sorry, honey,” I said as I fumbled through my purse and quickly handed them over. I resumed my trance-like state, leaning against the outside of the driver’s license office building wanting time to stand still for just a moment. Please, just for a moment, so I can process this, wrap my brain around the idea of my son being able to drive...legally...by himself. But my phone rang and it was my husband, who was out of town, wanting a play-by-play of our son’s driver’s test.  Well, the first play I  reported was our son managing to maneuver the car directly over a curb as he pulled out of his parking spot and made a right hand turn. I wondered if that did him in. But I knew he wanted this; he wanted this badly, and he had worked hard and practiced and I believed that he would find a way to turn a rough start into an acceptable outcome.

I saw a girl get out of a car holding a piece of paper and walking toward her dad. She was beaming. “Congratulations,” I said as she walked passed me. She smiled and thanked me and proceeded into the building to fill out paperwork with her dad. I wondered about my son's fate. After 10 long minutes and not much to report to my husband, I saw my son pull the car into a parking spot. I saw him step out of the car holding a similar looking piece of paper. He had a grin on his face and immediately gave me a thumbs up. A knot formed in my throat and I tried not to let the tears well up in my eyes as I got the words, "he passed" out to my husband.

A license to drive is a right of passage, a milestone, a part of the natural progression of our children’s development and a big step toward their autonomy. It is something to celebrate.  But at the moment when he emerged from my car with the same "I did it" smile that he has given me so many times over his life, I realized that my time with my son just took a huge hit. He will no longer be forced to spend those minutes or hours in the car with me transporting him to where he needs to be. He can get there without me. Should I rejoice in this? Sure. But now that I can feel this time slip away, I clearly see how precious it was.

On the way home, I told him that I would miss the countless hours we had together in the car, heading to and from his games, practices and social events. I would miss the talking and the not talking…just being in the confined space of my car with him.  He was quiet, still reveling in the glory of his accomplishment. I wondered if he would miss that time we had together. Maybe somewhere in the distant future he would remember and be grateful for those times, but for the present moment, I got a very strong sense from him that he couldn't wait to be free!

So, on those days when you have spent more hours turning your steering wheel than you have doing anything else, remember that your calling as a chauffeur is only temporary. Try to cherish some of on-the-road time you have with your children.  And definitely buy yourself an awesome chauffeur’s hat!

Have You Ever Chased a Bus on the Highway? A Crazy Parenting Moment

(Flickr, sidknee23)

It was my 10-year-old son’s first day of ski school on a cold, blustery day in Minnesota.  I wasn’t sure if I was going to send him that day because they were headed to a ski hill that was about an hour away, and we were scheduled to get a bunch of snow so I was worried about the drive home. But after finding out that a few of his buddies were going, my son decided that he really wanted to go. So, we hurriedly layered him up, packed his ski bag, threw together a quick brown bag lunch, and headed out to catch the bus.

Pulling into the designated pick-up spot—a parking lot at a nearby shopping mall—I saw no sign of the bus nor any other cars waiting for a bus. I frantically called another mom who told me that her husband had taken their son and that she thought the bus was on the west side of the mall. I was on the east side. It was 8:01 a.m. The bus was scheduled to depart promptly at 8:00.  I drove like a madwoman to the other side of the mall and caught sight of a school bus pulling a trailer behind it (presumably containing ski equipment) exiting the mall parking lot and heading toward the freeway. “SHHHIIITTTT!!!!!” I said in my very outside, non-mommy voice. “Mom,” my son whispered. “Did I miss the bus?”  “NO,” I retorted as I screeched out of the parking lot, hell-bent on catching that bus.

“Mom,” said my sweet son, who could sense that I was about to do something crazy, “It’s okay, we can just go home.” “No honey, you are going skiing today,"I said. "You want to go with your friends, we've paid for it, and you are going.” “Are you going to drive me all the way to the ski hill,” he asked tentatively. “Nope, you are taking the bus there,” I said trying to not let him know that my heart was just about to jump outside of my body as I prepared myself for the bus chase. “But, mom….” “Honey, I got this, just sit tight.” And we were off! I raced out of the parking lot and got onto the highway on-ramp. The bus was in sight. Trying not to kill my son and myself, I accelerated a lot but resisted pushing the pedal completely to the metal.  I maneuvered my car into the lane directly to the left of the bus. My son sat motionless and speechless with the oh-no-she-is-not-possibly-doing-what-I-think-she-might-be-doing look on his face.

There was no way that I was going to drive an hour and a half each way to get this kid to ski school today, but there was also no way that he was not going to go. One small problem, what to do about the bus that I needed to get my kid on but was traveling at 55 miles an hour on the freeway?  As I cozied up right along side the bus, I had a direct view of the bus driver.  I honked. I honked again. And a third time. She finally glanced over and I caught her eyes. She looked at me with a puzzled look as I pointed frantically to my son in the back seat. She looked at me again with the same perplexed look. I motioned for her to pull over with my right hand. She looked at me in a different way, a way that said, “Are you out of your frick’n mind?” I nodded and mouthed the word, “Please?”

Next thing I knew, the bus was exiting the highway. I quickly followed suit and pulled up behind the bus where it was slowing to a stop on the right hand shoulder of a frontage road.  “Mom,” squeaked my son from the back seat, “I can’t get on that bus. This is the most embarrassing thing ever!”  “Oh, but you can, honey. I’m sure your buddies are thinking how cool it is that the bus pulled over for you!” He slowly got out of my car with a terrified look on his face. Quickly grabbing my son's ski stuff from the trunk, my son and I approached the bus driver. “M’am, that was not very safe,” she said to me with an agitated . “I know but I can’t thank you enough for stopping,” I said quickly so she wouldn't change her mind, as I gently pushed my mortifed son forward so he would climb the stairs to the bus. Briskly walking back to my car, I saw his buddies stand up to greet him and give him high-fives.

It took me several hours and countless deep breaths before I could even tell this story to my husband who just shook his head in disbelief.  And it took me more that a year to write it down. 

The absolutely insane, unimaginable, outlandish things we do for our kids...

She's Going to College!

It's official, she is going. A few of the colleges she has dreamed of attending wrote her letters and sent her emails saying they'd be thrilled to have her. She screamed! She jumped up and down! She was elated, beyond elated! I screamed and jumped up and down with her. I was elated, but not beyond elated. Because we all know what this really means. Yep, it means that she is really going to leave. She is not sure where she will land...still waiting for letters from a few other potential options. But none of these options are in my zip code or even in my state. She is flying the coop. I pray her wings are strong enough for the flight. I believe that they are but I still pray. I am proud of her, happy for her and yet slightly sad and confused. Elated? For her, maybe. For her that she gets to take those beautiful blue eyes and go out and view the world from a different lens--a lens that is more her own--a lens that she will continue to fine tune, adjust and readjust as she becomes a more aware and conscious adult. Will she know a good thing when she sees it? Will she know danger? Will she follow her heart? Or her head? I will know some of her thoughts, her ideas, her feelings, her fears but certainly a lot fewer of them than I do now. I won't be able to see her eyes every day when she comes home from school and instantly be able to determine if she had a good day or that something is weighing on her. She will get to decide if she wants to tell me--or not. I won't necessarily "just know." The protective layer that I have, or at least think I have with her living in my house, will peel away as she exits. And I don't know what it looks like or feels like to not have that layer in tact. And neither does she.

But once again, I am ahead of myself. The yoga teacher in me says, "Embrace the present. She is still here." The letters arrived and told us she'd been accepted, and she will go, but she is not gone yet. This period of time feels a little bit like a bandaid being pulled off ever so slowly. Ouch! And I don't exactly know what lies beneath the bandaid. My friends and relatives who have older kids who have gone off to college tell me,"It's great. It's like a new chapter and it's cool to develop a more adult to adult type of relationship with your child, which will happen when she leaves." O.k., yes, but I actually really like this chapter. The one in which she lives in my house, and I get to see her and hug her every day. You can't hug via skype or text. Ouch again!

I know, I can kick and scream all I want about this (well, into my pillow maybe), but there's no turning back, she going. And the funny thing is, this is what I wanted, and deep down do want for her. This is when I am supposed to say to myself, "All the hard work paid off. She's going to college! She did it! You did it!" Maybe when that bandaid is completely off and is no longer uncomfortably pulling at the hairs on my skin, I will be able to say that.

I will certainly let you know!