Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Last week I challenged myself to three goals of making my children more independent. Read the mixed results.
In case you missed my last article, let me fill you in: I have been falling behind in teaching my children how to do things for themselves, so last week I gave myself three goals to improve. TOWEL GOAL: Both kids need to get their own bath towel every night and then hang them up themselves. TOAST GOAL: My 5-year-old should start making his own breakfast in the morning. NO NUDE TODDLERS GOAL: My 3-year-old needs to learn where his clothes are and to put them on himself. Shoes too. I also gave myself three guidelines to follow: Train Them Correctly the First Time, Walk Away, Trust That They Can Do More Than You Think TOWEL GOAL: Every night I’m called away from doing the dishes (read: looking at Facebook) to grab my kids' bath towels off the…
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Making it a priority to teach these kids to do something on their own.
As usual, I was patting myself on the back about how much better of a parent I was than my friend who wouldn’t let her 1½-year-old jump off a tiny wall that my children had safely hurtled since they first began walking. My face broke into a smile as I mused on how I've found the perfect balance between safety and over-protection. I let my children explore, at their own pace, dangerous situations (walls, stairs, grenades) until they become experts. Just as the width of my prideful smile peaked in the center of my cheeks, the 1-year-old sat down and started teaching my 3-year-old how to put on his shoes. My mouth deflated like an untied balloon, landing into a slack-lipped pout. Should my kid be able to put his shoes on already? This …
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Having young children on vacation can distract us from our family's annoying idiosyncrasies and give us a chance to relive our childhoods.
In my BC history (Before Children), I avoided family vacations with the determined intent that I now focus on not cleaning my bathrooms. A childless fool, with expendable income and immortality, I was able to pay for my own holidays to exotic locales, so why would I waste my paid vacation days to be stuck in a house with boring people who nap? Why surround myself with people who cater to the never-ending whines of needy toddlers and who don’t applaud my efforts to fill their vacation home with the aphrodisiacal scent of slow roasting civet coffee? “You should be happy I am giving you this privilege,” I told my family one morning, after they angrily woke me up at 6 a.m. demanding to know what I had done with their offensive, pre-ground, …
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Getting ready to vacation with children is as complicated as preparing an army for war.
“Preparing for family vacation is like a commander preparing for war,” my sister-in-law, who is a three-star Lieutenant General of Motherhood, says. She’s a veteran with Vietnam-era type experiences. She’s been in the trenches, having had three kids in three years and vacationing with my family in the dark days before my father had been mellowed by eight grandchildren and a prescription for Xanax. “A good commander must assess, in the war room/living room, the unknown dangers that may confront them in their destination and be prepared for all outcomes,” she says. “But you must also balance this with knowing how much you can afford to bring.” I’ve never been good at that balance. In fact, that’s how I ended up living back in Florida. We …
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
All year long, dads do what they're "supposed" to do.
Pen Name Jane said this last year, but we had to say it again. Please, whatever you do, do not make your kids buy their dad anything for Father’s Day (especially a tie). Fathers don’t want anything (unless it’s a Black 1962 Lincoln Continental Convertible with suicide doors). They don’t want boxer shorts or a singing card. They don’t want cologne or new socks. Do NOT believe the commercials. No dad ever told you to buy him anything; that was the “dad-like” guy on TV who seeped into your brain. If you have to spend money, then just go ahead and hand him the cash (not in ones). Believe me, men aren't sitting around dreaming of a new Norelco Power razor or lusting after a World’s Greatest Dad mug. No man is sitting at Walgreen’s debating if …
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
We are no longer an agrarian society that needs children home to pick the summer harvest, so let’s have school end in the winter and enjoy the Florida weather. What do you say?
This is my first summer break as a parent. The first time my kids are off from school for the summer, and by “school” I mean the free Voluntary Pre-Kindergarten program that is paid for by the state. (Did you know they did that? Paid for 4-year-olds to go to school three hours a day, 5 days a week?) I am pretty excited. No schedule. No having to put the kids in clean clothes. No having to look decent in the morning for the benefit of others. No brushing teeth … wait, forget that last one. There is just one tiny thing I wish was different. I mean, I am about to do summers off with my kids for the next 14 years, right? So I can complain a little. (If you are my husband and you are reading this: Honey, I’m just exaggerating for the audience. …
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
If you do choose to spank, the one thing they say is "Never Spank in Anger" — but I could never imagine spanking my child at any other time.
I was talking to a friend — a childless friend — and she was saying that spanking kids is child abuse. I’ve never had someone inadvertently imply that I was a child abuser, so I sarcastically replied, “Oh, I don’t believe in spanking,” and I paused for effect, “except when you’re angry.” My friend was aghast. She went on a long spiel: “No, that is exactly when you shouldn’t because you will only hit harder and blah, blah, blah.” I rolled my eyes and wondered if my friend had no sense of humor, or was hitting innocent children really not funny? (My sense of humor lies pitch-perfectly between raunchy and lame, so it had to be the former.) I tried to explain why I said what I said. “I’ve only spanked two times (that I’ll admit to) and it was …
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
As the heat rises, the author questions showing her knees.
I have a strict rule against women wearing shorts after the age of 30. Nobody needs to see your (read: my) fleshy white cellulite thighs. Yes, there are some exceptions to the rule, but about 60 percent of women think they are the exception and only about 9 percent are. (These are actual statistics.) Being a good rule follower (and a bit of a teacher’s pet), I stopped wearing shorts when I was 24. I happily sweated it out in Capris or a long skirt. But because I made this rule in the ignorance of my youth, I failed to realize that as you age, your tolerance for heat shrinks to the size of an ice cube (and is melting). I should have known this was coming. I was always so annoyed at my mother for saying, “Yes, we can go to the beach but …
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Continuing my education in sports during the spring cleaning season.
Last Friday my husband took my sons and I to a game at the Florida Auto Exchange Stadium in Dunedin. It made me realize how great the Tampa Bay area is to live in and raise children! Especially for a batball lover like I am. In case you missed my article in October, I am a new sports fan. I became one after I got to watch my husband’s favorite team, the St. Louis Red Cardinals, win the 2011 America’s Cup. As I explained in October, it took me a while to understand batball because sports vernacular is complicated, intricate and masculine. But I am a quick learner, so after a couple weeks in the fall and one game this spring, l think I can call myself a legitimate sports enthusiast. As I said before, I believe it is important for me to show …
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
A Tiny duck tale.
One evening my children and I were driving away from a strip mall, and in front of our car waddled a mama duck and 13 babies. The itty-bitty ducklings followed their mom in a bumper car huddle — all except one, even smaller than the rest, who trailed far behind about to die from exhaustion. My boys named this last one Tiny, and every couple of minutes the mama had to stop to let Tiny catch up. We watched the ducks for a bit before we started to drive away, but my youngest cried that he never got to say good-bye, so I turned the car around to let him. By the time we got back, the ducks were gone, but I noticed something moving in the parking spot where they had just been. Oh no, it was Tiny. He was lying on his back flapping his nubby wings…
Dave Holden
11:57 am on Wednesday, July 4, 2012
My wife says our children still don't hang up their towels. And they are grown! more ›