Moving Day.

I am moving my blog here.

Hope you'll come with me!

The Lonely Only

Imagine my delight and surprise when, at the supermarket, I stumbled across a Time magazine cover with the title "The Only Child Myth." (click on the link for a truncated, online version of the article) Being the parent of an only child, I was intrigued.

I have to say - reading this article was like finally breathing a sigh of relief. The Only Child Myth - that only children are spoiled and maladjusted - is alive and well today, despite virtually no evidence to support it. Even though the number of families with only children is steadily on the rise, it's still so unusual that people feel free to criticize parents that just stop at one. "I'm just balancing out the average," I joke to people who are dumbfounded that we do not plan to have any more children. "You know - 2.5 is average, so - someone needs to bring the average down," I tell the mother of 4.

According to the article, "The image of the lonely only was the work of one man, Granville Stanley Hall. About 120 years ago, Hall established one of the first American psychology-research labs. But what he is most known for today is supervising the 1896 study "Of Peculiar and Exceptional Children," which described a series of only-child oddballs as permanent misfits. For decades, academics and advice columnists alike disseminated his conclusion that an only child could not be expected to go through life with the same capacity for adjustment that children with siblings possessed." The funny thing is, Hall had virtually no knowledge of how to actually conduct a credible study...yet his teachings were hailed far and wide. Today, plenty of studies have been conducted that have proven that there is no discernible difference - emotionally or intellectually speaking - between "only children" and children with many siblings.

Granted, I am a little concerned about my mother's lament that it is lonely and tough being an only child as your parents age and pass on - she is an only child, and had to care for my grandfather until he passed away a few years ago, then deal with his estate after he passed. She had no brother or sister to lean on, no one to share the grief in the same way when her mother passed away 30 years ago. I worry that when our time comes, Malcolm will wish he had a brother or sister to help carry the grief and the burden of responsibility. However, if there's one thing we have made up for, it's definitely any lack of family. We have taught Malcolm to live as part of a community, to love others, and that relationships with the people around us can create ties as deep as a family's.

And I think that is a lesson he has learned - after all, we're talking about a kid who handed me a 40-person invitation list for his birthday party, only 15 of whom were children. A child who makes no distinction between "mommy and daddy's friends" and "his friends." A child who told me the other day that he "loves everybody in the world."

I am grateful that - G-d willing - "only" is not a word that will be of concern for my child.

Except, that is, when there's "only" one pudding left in the refrigerator.

How Fred the Lion Made Me a Better Mom

As usually happens, I've gotten behind in my posting. It seems to be a continual issue for me - I just can't seem to balance work/home/writing with much ease. I tend to be a workaholic, and so when I get caught up at work, everything else falls by the wayside.

So here we are, the first week in July, and I'm attempting - again - to reinvigorate my posting. Because I'm currently nursing a not-fun toothache and can't think very straight, I am copping out by posting something I wrote a few months ago. Partially because I would like your input.

As I work to make some progress - any progress! - on my books, I have decided to try to write some articles to "get my name out there." (Yes, indeed I said "books," as I have split my thoughts into two books, because I'm just THAT big a glutton for punishment.) I don't really know how to market myself, or draw attention to a blog, or try to get any sort of following that might help me get published. So, I thought that perhaps submitting some articles to magazines and, hopefully, getting published that way might be a good beginning.

So, that said, I would very much appreciate your feedback on the following - an article I would like to submit to some "parenting magazines" for publication. Please let me know what you think!

Imaginary friends are a fundamental part of childhood. My son, Malcolm, has had many - including his right hand, who he has named...well, "Hand." Don't fret over my son's lack of imagination in picking a name. After all, we discovered one day that Hand has a twin brother (naturally), whose name is BobRocketGeorge. Hand and BobRocketGeorge have provided hours of entertainment, but my very favorite of Malcolm's imaginary friends was Fred the Lion.

Around the time that Fred joined our family, I was struggling with my role as a mother. I was a very task-oriented person, and would get caught up in things like work and laundry and dishes, and not focus on the important things - like spending time with family. I recognized this as a detriment, but was struggling to overcome it. The difficulty in this was a pretty basic road block: Malcolm's interests were fairly typical for a 4 year old boy: cars, trains, Star Wars. I couldn't have been LESS interested in these things. We connected over Disney movies and the Zoo, but you can only go do those activities so many times. I needed to find a way to engage my son on a regular basis.

For a lot of moms, this probably seems like a no-brainer. Many moms I know simply have that "mom-gene" imbedded from the moment of conception, and they know how to figure these things out. But I felt like I had missed out on that gene. I was feeling like a whopping failure of a Mom - someone who couldn't stay in the moment with her own child, without thoughts wandering to the crisis at work that day or the pile of laundry waiting to be folded. I could never quite live in the moment, and appreciate my son for who he is, and who we are together.

Until Fred.

Malcolm "discovered" Fred one day while in the bathroom. When Malcolm excitedly reported he had spotted a lion in the sink, I saw an opportunity, and responded with great enthusiasm. "REALLY!?!" I responded with the appropriate amount of wonder and awe. Malcolm peered up at me, a mixture of excitement and a bit of confusion on his face. I pushed past the deep pain that bubbled up upon recognition that my son was surprised at me being engaged, and plodded forward with all kinds of questions about who Fred was and how he got there. Turns out Fred is a lion who lives in our pipes and follows Malcolm around whenever he can - but he can't climb out of the sink, because he's too big to get out of the holes. So, basically, we can only see Fred in sinks and bathtubs, basically relegating him to a morning and nighttime ritual of greeting.

In the days following Fred's arrival, I continued to be excited about our new found friend, encouraging Malcolm to say good night to Fred every night, asking him questions about Fred...I was so excited to connect with Malcolm in such a fun way. After Malcolm was done brushing his teeth at night, he would pour a little water down the sink for Fred to drink, and encourage me to do the same. (I had to draw the line at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.)

One day, we were at the book store, and an idea struck me.

"Malcolm!" I exclaimed. "Why don't we see if we can find Fred?"

His eyes brightened. "Yeah!"

So we run toward the bathroom, and as we were passing the water fountains, he peers in. "Nope," he keeps saying, matter-of-factly, until he's checked every water fountain and sink. "He must be sleeping." Well, that never occurred to me. I guess Fred does need to sleep.

As we were walking back by the water fountain, Malcolm exclaims, "THERE he is! He's awake now!" His whole body is lit up with excitement.

"Hi Fred!" I wave happily. Malcolm beams and tells me that Fred says "hi" back. We exchange pleasantries with the Great Lion of the Pipes, then return to our shopping.

This is such a simple thing that is probably second nature for many mothers. But for me, this was a revelation. I had been so caught up in the demands of modern life that I had forgotten how to be a mother to my child.

Moving forward, I knew I had to do something to retain our connection. I started to purposefully pursue activities we could both enjoy; because, to be honest, I knew I would not keep up a habit of playing trains or Star Wars. We started with coloring - a task I had to force myself to do at first, but now I find it strangely calming. So we colored, played games, and sometimes, we just talked. Just like many other things, Fred is something forgotten over time, but my connection with Malcolm remains, stronger than ever. We still do puzzles and doodle and color, have Nerf gun battles and go for walks in the park. I even play some Star Wars games with him - they're surprisingly fun!

The last time we saw Fred the Lion was at the beach in Orlando. I was extremely impressed that he had navigated the pipes all the way there, but Malcolm explained that he had learned in "Finding Nemo" that all pipes lead to the ocean - so naturally, it was no great difficulty for Fred to join us on vacation. Even though Fred is gone, I will forever be grateful to the Great Lion of the Pipes for teaching me about the wonders of childhood, and giving me a deeper connection with my son.

Doggy Daddy

Not too long after Malcolm was born, I started getting the questions from others about having another child. While these questions have continued for years, they have died out recently, I'm guessing because Malcolm is turning 7 next month. The "natural, usual" gap between first and second child has long passed.

A few months ago, Don and I had a serious talk about having a baby. We ultimately decided against it, and opted for a dog instead. (That's a fair swap, right?) We adopted June (a now 9-month-old Puggle) from the Toledo Animal Shelter about a month ago. Silly me, I thought getting a puppy would be a lot simpler than having another baby. Granted, you can't lock a baby up in a crate all day (well, you COULD...but you shouldn't). But I swear that dog chews on more things than Malcolm ever did, and we suddenly find ourselves with baby gates again. Joy.

In all seriousness, we love our new puppy. She is absolutely ADORABLE. A pain in the butt, yes...but those big black eyes and the late-evening cuddling make up for it. We've lost sleep, some socks, a pair of flip flops, a cup, a few toys and a chunk out of the ottoman...but it's all good. She's a part of the family now.

What's amazing about this whole puppy experience is the characteristics we've seen come out in Malcolm. He has quite taken to being a "Doggy Daddy." He feeds her, helps bathe her, cleans up after her, plays with her. He helps to discipline her and train her. And in some ways, having the puppy IS like having another child - I have to break up their fights, and listen to Malcolm whine about June taking his toys. But overall, Malcolm behaves more around June like a responsible parent, rather than a combative sibling. It's pretty awesome.

The way he interacts with June has also been eye-opening to me about how he must perceive us as parents. Any time he interacts with her in a way I don't think is nice, I have to stop and examine, and figure out where he learned that behavior. Is it because it's how we've treated him? Sometimes, it is. Sometimes, he TELLS us that it is. And then, I find myself being the one who is being "disciplined." It's just another way in which my child holds a mirror up to me, forcing me into self-examination. And growth.

As painful as it can sometimes be, discovering these self-reflective moments is rewarding and wonderful, because it helps me to become a better person. I believe that the puppy ownership experience will create a lot of them, as we work with Malcolm on his "Doggy Daddy" moments. I truly look forward to these reflections of me.

Except today, when Malcolm told June to "shut her pie hole." That, my friends, was a reflection of Don.

Kudos for Dad

One of the great things about parenthood is that it reveals some wonderful traits about your spouse...things you never saw before.

In honor of Father's Day, I wanted to post some things about Malcolm's amazing father, my wonderful husband Don. Trust me, I already knew about the compassion and goodness in this man, but the role of Father revealed so much more.

My hope is that most women experience the same things I did in those first hours after giving birth - a man who suddenly, despite whatever level of macho he usually has, finds himself wrapped around the little finger of a tiny person. Don instantly went into caregiver mode - in fact, he got up more often in the middle of the night than I did! (Partially because it takes some serious noise to rouse me from sleep!) Bottles, burping, dirty diapers - the man did it all, and then some. In fact, there's a running joke about how he got all the "bad poop days" - including the day that Malcolm decided to take off his diaper (which was full) and use the contents to paint himself, the walls, and the crib (which, oh-so-wonderfully, had a spindle design with lots of nooks and crannies). I never came home to a mess waiting for me because it was "my job" or "too much for him to handle." I never had to fight to get him to do this stuff - he just did.

As Malcolm has gotten older, Don has just gotten better. He is my guide for discipline, rules, and love. He is indeed the authority figure (the one that can make the kid listen), yet he is not scary or overbearing. He guides Malcolm lovingly with equal parts discipline and praise. He is goofy, fun, adventurous - all the things a kid loves. And stern, loving, and guiding - all the things a kid needs.

He never makes me feel like him watching Malcolm is "babysitting" or a "favor to me." I never had to beg for time away, or a night with the girls. I am extremely grateful that I do not feel like one of those mothers who has to do everything with the "occasional help" of the father. It is truly an equal partnership - in fact, if anything, he is the harder working, more intuitive parent.

This Father's Day, I am extremely grateful that my son has such a wonderful father. Not just because it is helpful for me, but because it means so much more for my son, and how he will grow.

Love Your Neighbor As Yourself

Every night, Malcolm and I (or Malcolm and Daddy) recite the Shema. If you're unfamiliar with it, it goes like this:

Hear, Oh Israel!
The Lord is our G-d!
The Lord alone!
LOVE the Lord your G-d
with all your heart
with all your soul
and with all your might.
And love your neighbor as yourself.

The first part is in Deuteronomy, the last bit was added by that dude Jesus during His ministry. He seems to have been a pretty smart cookie.

So, we get done reciting Shema tonight, and I say, just to be funny, "you should love Mommy the most!" Malcolm responded, "No, silly, I love you, Daddy, and me ALL THE SAME!" I replied, "You love yourself?" and he said "YES!" And so I asked him to list all the things he likes about himself, and reaffirmed those things.

I know it is in children's nature to love themselves and be fairly confident at this age...but I really hope we can keep up the self-love. So much hurt in this world comes out of self-loathing. And think about it...it's a commandment from G-d: Love your neighbor AS yourself. Wouldn't that indicate that in order to love others, you first need to love yourself? It's not "love your neighbor even if you don't love yourself" or "love your neighbor in spite of yourself."

I told Malcolm that I was very happy he loves himself. He looked at me like "why wouldn't I?" I explained that there are some people who don't love themselves. When he asked why, I said it was because at some point along the way, someone told them bad things about them and made them sad. He pondered that for a bit, and he said he hoped all people would love themselves.

Of all the things that will change about him as he grows older, I hope this is not one of them. And I pray that all of you who are finding it easier to love your neighbor than to even consider loving yourself can reach back in time, and fnd that inner 6-year-old...and revel in your own awesomeness!

Why Brokenness

There are a number of "Mom" books out there. Some are focused on the idea of motherhood as a battlefield, while others are focused on fun and fluff. I'm trying to be somewhere in the middle of this - recognizing the pain and sorrow that can accompany this important "job" while reveling in the joy.

So why am I focusing on "brokenness"? It is so very important for us to seek to be whole and healthy people. Broken, unhealthy people beget more broken and unhealthy people.

I attended a meeting this morning which was an overview of the Philip Project, created by Cherry Street Mission's very own Dan Rogers. Cherry Street will seek to be a partner with churches and church leaders to help transform the parent-child relationship. It's very exciting stuff!

Dan said something that stuck with me this morning, but first you need a little background to understand it. When we talk about the "downstream" of life - which he at Cherry Street and I at Food For Thought deal with on a daily basis - we are referring to the image of a "river of life." The upstream is the point of the river that makes a difference. If that point is damaging - think of the image of a broken bridge - bodies start falling in the water. When someone is broken, damaged, hurt...that's the downstream. In our daily jobs, Dan and I are the ones at the downstream, pulling people out of the river and trying to heal them. But something we share is a desire to help the upstream, to keep bodies from falling in the water in the first place. This is where the phrase "an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure" comes in handy. It's a heck of lot more effective to fix the bridge than it is to keep pulling bodies out of the river downstream.

So, this morning, Dan said, "there is no greater upstream than parents." How true! We are constantly healing people's brokenness, which largely takes place at the hand of their parents. Yes, there are a variety of other factors, but parents are - as Dan put it - the greatest upstream.

Which is why I'm working on this book and why I talk about brokenness. In order to fix that bridge for our children - or keep the bridge from breaking in the first place - we need to wade back upstream and figure out how to fix that bridge for ourselves. To some that may seem selfish - to spend so much time focusing on ourselves instead of our children. No, it is anything but! It is the greatest form of care and love for your child - to heal the parts of you that may damage parts of them.

Good luck as you head upstream...

Broken.

What follows here is the first draft of the introduction to my book. I would love your feedback on this, as it shares the general tone and direction of the book. Thank you in advance.

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I am broken.

Actually, I think we all are - in one way or another. Each and every day, human beings interact with each other in ways that arise out of our own brokenness, and often contribute to the brokenness of others.

What do I mean by "broken"? I realize some may take offense to this word. Saying someone is broken is indicating that there's something wrong with them that needs to be fixed - that they are less than whole. And yes, that is what I mean. However, given the pervasiveness of brokenness in our society, my use of this word is far from judgmental. I am merely acknowledging the shattered state of our world.

When we are mistreated, a fracture is created. My therapist calls them "disturbances." The voices of our past whisper in our ear during the present, coloring our view of our current experiences. We then act out of that unhealthy place, creating new disturbances for the people we interact with.

The good news is, there is hope. There is healing. It is possible to heal these disturbances so they no longer act as triggers in your daily life. Not only possible - but necessary. If our brokenness goes unhealed, then we run the danger of creating disturbances in our children, resulting in new brokenness that then affects others. And so the cycle continues.

Perhaps you don't agree that brokenness affects us all in some way, that you are perfectly healthy and fine. I would challenge you - do you have anger issues? Are you a perfectionist? Do your neatness requirements at home rival Mommy Dearest?

In this book, I will be sharing my own journey through healing. Am I fully healed? No. But I am on the journey, and I feel more whole than ever in my life. And I largely have my son to thank for that. It is the act of becoming a mother that created a critical point of change for me. As they say, children are like mirrors, reflecting the very best - and worst - of their parents. What I saw reflected in my child's eyes was disturbing, and created in me an urgency to move on a path of healing - not just for my own sake, but for the health and happiness of my family.

I share this journey because I feel that there is freedom in being able to admit imperfection, seek help, and strive to be a healthier person. My hope is that by sharing my experiences with this type of healing, and how this affected my role as a mother, others can find hope and healing of their own.

Should

What do you want to be when you grow up?

It's a typical question aimed at kids. Many answers come out of the mouths of babes - a ballerina, a teacher, an astronaut, a cowboy. These answers grow and change as our kids do. Malcolm is only 6 and has had many career aspirations, although "gym teacher" seems to be the more long-lasting answer.

I've seen parents try to nurture these aspirations by sticking their kids in special classes or private instruction. The problem is, at a young age our kids often show promise at a number of activities - so we try to nurture them all, resulting in the ridiculous over-scheduling that permeates middle class America. And our kids are likely to end up with the dilemma I had when graduating high school - having that ever-present question looming large with so many choices it's nearly unbearable: What do I want to be when I grow up?

The problem is, when you are on the precipice of the college years, you are grown up, essentially. Old enough to vote, make your own decisions, move out of your parents' house...and make your own mistakes. Yet, with adulthood almost thrust upon us at this age, very few of us know what the heck we want the rest of our lives to look like. I'm sure some of this is just the age and the design of our lives - we are encouraged to experiment with different hobbies, sports, and vocations - to "broaden our horizons" and experience the world so we can make a well-informed decision. I've read a lot lately about how too much choice is actually crippling to humans, and has led to a number of unforeseen problems. However, I would assert that this vast openness of choice and opportunity is not really the main issue keeping many of us from reaching our full potential - the word "should" is. (side note: my husband, when reading this, just smiled that I used the phrase "I would assert" and will need to pause and regroup before reading on...)

Anyway...the word SHOULD. What an interesting word. We often use it in corrective instruction: "You should not have pulled the cat's tail." "You should apologize." But we also use it when giving our opinion of how our children should (ha) live their lives, including choosing a career. Is there really any surprise that "You should take violin lessons!" or "You should join the soccer team!" might be received with a little less levity than intended? After all, earlier that same morning, we told them they "should" not say that bad word, or they "should" not have hit their friend. Should carries much more weight than I think any of us realize. Thus, when kids reach the age of having to make a decision of the direction of their lives, the thought "What do I want to be when I grow up?" carries more the weight of "What SHOULD I do with my life?" Which may seem like the same basic idea, but that word "should" adds a different weight to the question.

I bring this up because, at just 6 years of age, my son has already been "shoulded" a lot. He's been told he should join a soccer team, take gymnastic lessons, take musical instrument lessons, take special art classes...all because he has shown promise in these areas. Now, I realize that the people saying these things (including Mom and Dad) have no ill intent, but I have to wonder if all this "shoulding" adds a level of obligation and expectation to our choices. After all, if I have been told that I should sing on the worship team because I have a nice singing voice, and I choose not to do so, am I not letting someone down? Am I possibly even turning my back on a G_d-given talent?

I have spent many years trying to unravel the strings of "should." That single word has hung over me like a cloud, while I have tried to figure out what I "should" do with my life, rather than what I want to do. What I desire to do. Trust me, I recognize our collective obligation to society as a whole, and the importance of every person's role in community. However, if an individual is fundamentally unhappy and unfulfilled doing something they "should" do rather than something they feel passionate about doing, then are they truly being a constructive participant in community?

My desire is to give my son as much support and as little "should" as possible. I don't know yet what that looks like, but I hope that I don't squash his dreams or skew his view of what careers and lifestyles are acceptable to pursue because of what I think he should do with his life.

What about you? Have you been "shoulded"? How can we not "should" our kids?

It Ain't Necessarily So...

As we head toward Mother's Day, I've heard many women talking about what they would like to do/receive as a gift. A large number of women "fantasize" about some time away without the kids, some immediately apologizing for wanting to "abandon Motherhood" on the day celebrating Motherhood. Most seem to feel they have no hope - or right - to such a day.

I'm not one of them. Well, sorta. I'm very lucky to have a husband who practically shoved me out the door to get away for a few days. I had all sorts of objections for him: I have a meeting! Reschedule it. It costs money to do this! We'll make it work, no big deal. You teach this weekend! You need child-free distraction to study and prepare! I'll make it work. YOU NEED THIS. I'm so fortunate to have someone who could overcome my objections and send me on my way.

As I write this, I'm in a hotel approximately an hour from home, sipping some tea and listening to Gershwin. Soon, I will be heading out to do a little shopping, then I'll make myself comfy at a coffee shop and hopefully make some progress on my book. Tomorrow's plan includes a massage! When I arrived, I received a surprise upgrade from a regular room to a suite, and there were flowers - Gerbers, my favorite - waiting for me in my room, a gift from my wonderful, amazing, thoughtful husband. What a glorious time!

As I was sitting here this morning, enjoying my nice, neat, clean and organized hotel room (yes, I realize I have issues - but one of the things I love about traveling by myself is that everything is neat and organized and exactly where I want it), I realized how lucky I am. I remember a time when I wouldn't have felt like I deserved this time away. (Still, when a few people told me yesterday "Enjoy! You deserve it!" I cringed a little - clearly I still have a little way to go.) I know some mothers who practically make a sport out of self-sacrifice, and quite honestly, some of their husbands do nothing to help the issue. Some even hint at time away, and the response is incredulous.

But here's the thing: I believe most of us NEED some time away. I love my son, don't get me wrong - but he is, by very essence of being a child, a large bundle of expectations. After having expectations built up on me from various aspects of my life, it is sometimes exhausting to not have somewhere to escape, because "home" becomes just another pile of expectations - laundry, dishes, errands, homework... It just all becomes too much, and I get to a point where I'm no good to anybody anymore, because I'm so burned out I have nothing left to give.

So there's the answer for those self-sacrificing moms out there...can't take some time away? Well, I would argue that you need to, if you're going to continue to be a good mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend. It's for the greater good! I don't know about you, but when I get to this point, I am no longer able to be a good support for my friends who are going through marital issues, grief, job stress, emotional distress...you name it. And I'm a grumpy, tired mom who doesn't want to play any games and has little patience for goofing around.

So...think you can't/shouldn't/couldn't get away? It ain't necessarily so. Think about the positive you will be doing for yourself and your family.

(Note: I realize that for some, money is an issue that can't be ignored. A few suggestions to get around that: hotwire.com (cheap hotels for the lean budget - a lot of them will offer a refrigerator for the room for minimal charge, allowing you to pack food to avoid eating out), local hermitages that offer free or cheap nights (you'll have to do some research to find them in your area), swapping time with a friend/family member that has an open room/house, OR...send your hubby and/or kids to visit relatives and keep the house to yourself!)

Great Expectations for Little People

So...a few weeks ago we took a trip to PA to visit my family. Just me and the kiddo.

When we arrived home, I gave the obligatory recap to Don, ending with heaps of praise for our son, whose behavior on the trip was impeccable. Seriously, impeccable! He barely complained, was well behaved in restaurants, and didn't run around like a crazy kid (too much). Even for Malcolm, this behavior was stellar. And I say "even for Malcolm" because he really IS a well-behaved kid. Seriously. This is not "mommy bias" speaking - I've received compliments from strangers, teachers and other parents about his behavior. After this trip, I was positively glowing with Mommy Pride.

Unfortunately, that glow started to fade over the past few weeks. I jumped right back into work, a mistake I now realize - "visiting family" does not equal "vacation." No offense to my family, but...it's just not the same as kicking back somewhere either by yourself or with just your spouse and child, and forgetting the rest of the world exists. Also, true to form, I still worked while "on vacation." This all adds up to mommy being a bit overstressed and cranky, which I'm sure rubs off on the kiddo.

So, for some reason, everything my child has been doing lately has been jumping all over my nerves. The goofy voices, the over-dramatic reactions to things, the jumping up and down. He constantly forgets to do the stuff I tell him to do, then he gets mad at me when I remind him, sighing with a big "I KNOW!" He DOES seem more hyperactive than usual lately - but that could be a clouded perception b/c of my stress level. Who knows. But either way, I was reflecting this morning, and I had to remind myself:

He's 6 years old.

I think that sometimes we place great expectations on such little people. In particular, using the phrase (after an ill-conceived idea gone wrong) "What were you thinking?" Well...they certainly weren't thinking that was a bad idea, or they wouldn't have done it.

In that book I read a while back - Nurture Shock - was a whole chapter on the science of teen rebellion. In this chapter, the authors go into some science that shows that, indeed, teenagers DON'T really think through the consequences of things. In fact, their brains seem incapable of it. So...how much more so a 6 year old? We somehow expect our children to magically know that different things are bad ideas, when they truly don't have the life experience to know that. Yet, we expect absolute silence and stillness in church, suppressed curiosity (hmmm...maybe I shouldn't find out how these markers look on the wall), and perfect behavior.

I think sometimes we forget that correcting and shaping their behavior is our JOB - so should we really complain that our to-do list gets refreshed on a daily basis? I know that I forget this sometimes. I want my job to be easy - after all, I already have a full time job, obligations as a pastor's wife, housekeeping responsibilities and other relationships to tend to. It'd be nice if I could cruise through motherhood with no issues.

But, alas, I need to relax my expectations a bit for my little person, and remember that teaching him how to interact with the world is what I signed up for. And the last thing I want to instill in him is the idea that he needs to perform to a set of expectations he doesn't know or understand.

Are there limits to your worth?

Just today, I told Malcolm, "Stop growing!" I was kidding, of course...but a little part of me wants him to be my little boy forever.

But, of course...he won't be. He will keep growing even beyond when he reaches his full height - because we all keep growing emotionally and spiritually throughout all our lives. He will keep changing. I will keep changing. So I always find it interesting when I feel like "I've arrived" at a growth point, because it is oh so quickly that G-d reminds me that He's not done with me yet!

A very small reminder of this was last night, when I was visiting with Dan Rogers. I love meeting with Dan, because it is always simultaneously edifying and challenging. I feel better after we meet, but always leave with something to chew on.

So, last night, after some long discussions, I thanked him for his insight and shared that I really valued what he had to say. He said something complimentary to me as well, which I cannot even recall the exact wording of, because I dismissed it so quickly. I thought to myself, "Yeah right, you're just saying that to be nice." But if you know Dan, you know he doesn't just say things "to be nice." He speaks the truth, always.

This knee-jerk reaction felt unsettling, and for good reason: I haven't reacted this way to a compliment in a long time. After some reflection, I realized that my self-worth had increased, but only to a point. I am still making judgments on who I could possibly be of value to, and people like Dan Rogers are a bit outside of that "believability range."

So...what about you? I'd be curious to hear where others feel their worth "ends." And I'd encourage you to try to stop putting limits on your worth.

Content.

Yesterday was a good day.

After a productive day at work, I picked up Malcolm from school, and we went over to Wildwood Metropark for a walk. It was wonderful - cool enough to not get overheated, but warm enough to enjoy the outdoors. We walked and talked, and enjoyed all the dogs running around. A good day.

At one point during our walk, I let out a little sigh (a good one). It dawned on me: after a long time of battling depression, doubting myself and trying to find my place in life...I am content.

I hesitate to admit this, as part of me is afraid that saying so will somehow bring back that little black rain cloud that has been following me everywhere. Like throwing out a challenge to G-d or the devil, whichever one feels the need to take it on. I know that dark times will come again, but I am hopeful that I am now in a better place to handle them. After all...it's easy to claim contentment during the good times, right?

But then I think back to how I've felt about the same situations over the years...and how my murky perspective would cloud my view of my life. Indeed, there are improvements to my life: we finally have our heads above water financially, our home has been improved greatly, and I have a fulfilling job with lots of flexibility, working with people I love. Good things are the same: I have a wonderful husband and son, and great family and friends. However, a few years ago I would have focused on the negative: I'm still 35 pounds overweight, I'm suffering consistent pain from both my bum knee and my sciatica, I still haven't recovered from my "mystery illness" from a few years ago, I have some broken relationships that are hurtful, and while it is a fulfilling job, working full time is not my ultimate desire and tires me out. These negatives would have easily eclipsed the positives, and I would have continued along in my misery, insisting that my life is oh so much worse than anyone else's. Oh Poor Me.

But I feel content. Even on this, a rainy gray day that would normally instantly plunge me into depression...I feel content. I've figured out (almost) how to leave work at work and enjoy my time with my family. Don and I are laughing together again. I've learned to find that balance between taking time for myself and dropping everything for a nerf-gun battle with Malcolm. Rather than feel impatient and frustrated that we are not at our ultimate destination in life, I'm learning to enjoy every bit of the journey. Even though I still feel like there are bits of me to unravel and discover, and I'm still learning to listen to G-d's voice, I'm okay with being unfinished. For once in my life...I'm okay with being unfinished.

I feel content.

Hot Girls

So, Malcolm was sharing with me how to play "The Superhero Game." He proceeded to give me a bunch of names of superheros that would be included, listing all sorts of characters and their special powers. Then he go to one that made me laugh...

Malcolm: Hot Girl.

Me (with raised eyebrows, laughing): Hot Girl?

Malcolm (blushing, then laughing): Well...you know, like lava and stuff. Not like when you go on a date.

This amused me, especially after the interaction a few weeks ago with our friend Jared, who was playing Final Fantasy. There was a female video game character on the screen when Malcolm walked in the room. He took one look at her and declared "She looks like a party girl."

And how, pray tell, do you know what a party girl looks like, Malcolm?

Man, the teenage years are going to be something else...

How to Train Your Dragon

I thought I'd do a "Movie Review for Moms." Now, for movie reviews, I would highly recommend reading my friend Josh's blog and leave things well enough alone. However, given that I'm a mom, and I often wonder when movies are appropriate for my child or not, I thought I'd share some insights into "kid movies" when I can.

For example, take Alice in Wonderland. I had heard it was fairly dark, as most Tim Burton films are. However, I was hoping that perhaps it was okay for Malcolm to see (he's 6). I received a few warnings from people, and I'm glad I heeded them - while the movie was interesting, there were a few rather violent portions that I don't think were appropriate for someone his age.

So...on to "How to Train Your Dragon." An enjoyable flick, for sure. With Gerard Butler's boisterous Scottish voice for the father, Jay Baruchel's charmingly dorky voice for the son, and a slew of other great actors in the mix - it's sure fun to listen to and watch. The storyline is somewhat predictable, but because of the unusual setting of the story - vikings are not as typical child fare as say, fairies and barnyard animals - it's refreshingly different enough to not be boring for the adults. I found the movie to be entertaining and enjoyable.

Now, for the warnings:

• Malcolm is 6 years old, will be 7 soon. He did not get too scared by the dragons or the fighting sequences. However, he DOES play video games such as Star Wars and such like that, so he is accustomed to a certain amount of "cartoon violence." There was a woman there with a little girl that looked to be 2 or 3 - she screamed several times and ran away...this, among other things, makes me not want to recommend this story for toddlers.
• There is one bit of the story that is very much NOT like typical child fare, and I'm not sure how many parents would be uncomfortable with having to explain this particular incident to their children. I was fine with it, and Malcolm accepted the explanation without any difficulty. However, more sensitive parents may feel some need for caution. I don't want to do spoilers here, so if you would like to know what exactly I'm talking about, please private message me and I'll share.

That's really it. Obviously, just merely having dragons as central characters may make it a bit too scary for younger children. But I believe older children will enjoy the tale.

Winning the Kid Lottery

So, we are taking a break from crazy every day life, and drove to PA to visit the 'rents. As I am typing, I sit at my parents' dining room table (which they have had as long as I can remember), looking out their beautiful windows (because I'm talented enough to type while not looking at the screen, don't you wish you were me) and enjoying wonderfully warm weather. Malcolm is playing with his Star Wars figures while Mom is warming up some dinner. Ah, the good life.

It was a pretty good trip out. Because of my prematurely-old hip problems, it wasn't quite comfortable being in the car for so long, but I have to be Mrs. Braggy Braggerstein again about my child and share that he was absolutely AMAZING in the car. I think he asked me a total of 3 times when we would "get there"...but other than that, he did not complain at all. He varied his time between playing his PSP, reading some books, and then just sitting quietly and starting out the window. Yes, seriously. No, I'm not making this up. And no - I did not drug him.

As I was hanging out with my friends Jess and Erik today, I was sharing this and other stories about Malcolm. Jess said to me, "You totally won the kid lottery with that one." Trust me, I definitely agree with her - I feel very fortunate to not have to deal with a lot of the things that other parents do - ranging from behavior issues to health problems to the rough ordeal of trying to even get pregnant in the first place. And sometimes, when I observe some particularly difficult children or hear parents' heartbreaking stories of their children's health problems, I say a silent prayer of thanks for my child.

However, I believe that we all - all parents, regardless of differing circumstances - could use those reminders here and there to be grateful for our children. Sometimes, we get so caught up in our child's particular issues that we start to be too hard on them, and we forget to be thankful for this wonderful gift, this little version of ourselves. We ignore the positive aspects of their behavior and focus on those that need work. I'm not saying that we shouldn't always be trying to help our children become better people...I'm just saying that we need to count our blessings, every day, and remember that we are blessed to have these wonderful little beings in our lives.

Happy Easter!

Wow. Sometimes, time just gets away from me.

I have so much to say, and always such fun stories about Malcolm, but no time to write them at the moment. So, for now, I will leave you with two brief exchanges between us today:

Exchange #1:

We're driving on the way to school...Malcolm sees an ice cream delivery truck. Then later...

Malcolm: OOO! A BEER TRUCK!

Me: WHAT?! Why would that excite you?

Malcolm: First the ice cream, now beer...now both me AND Daddy will be happy!

Heh.

Exchange #2:

Malcolm: (making cereal with bananas) I'm going to grab a knife to cut the banana.

Me: How else would you cut it?

Malcolm: Well...I was going to use my kung fu, but I don't want my hands to get all slimy.

Ah, the fun things kids say. Makes life enjoyable!

More later.

The Great Debate

Ah, arguing. The common denominator in all parent-child relationships.

Don and I decided early on that we wanted to encourage a healthy ability to reason in Malcolm, and therefore didn't always discourage arguing. In fact, we often take the time to sit down and hear out his reasons, even if we are certain we won't budge on our final decision (though we have, on occasion). Our theory is that it will teach him that we care about his opinion, and encourage him to be more honest with us. Malcolm has appeared to enjoy testing this theory.

I have doubted this tactic many times while arguing with my child. After all, conventional wisdom is that arguing (from children) is a sign of disrespect, and needs to be nipped in the bud. However, in the book I'm reading, "Nurture Shock", this conventional wisdom is challenged.

Studies cited in the book show that children who argue with their parents do so because they have a lot of respect for them. Arguing is actually a sign of honesty in children, that they are not hiding something from their parents. When you should *really* be concerned, it seems, is when your child just ignores you altogether.

Now, for those of you who have teenagers and think, "well, my child is one of those exceptions - he/she is honest with me all of the time", I have news for you: 96% of teenagers lie to their parents. This was across the board - students with high grades, students with low grades, drinkers, non-drinkers, low income, high income, kids with "permissive" parents and kids with "strict" parents - it doesn't matter. Chances are, your child is lying to you about something. (And for those of you thinking "my child is in the 4%" - fat chance.)

I highly recommend picking up this book, and if you are the parent of a teenager, at least flipping to the chapter titled "The Science of Teen Rebellion." There is a lot of fascinating information that might be extremely helpful to you surviving your child's adolescence, and could possibly strengthen your relationship as well. In the meantime though, please try to see arguing as a good thing, and show your child that you value their input and are willing to listen to their opinions on things. Could go a long way in more frequent displays of honesty, and less "sneaking around." At least, that's what I'm hoping for with Malcolm!

Mother of the Year

According to my mom, my high school guidance counselor had once declared that I'm a "AAA" personality type.

Somehow, I don't think that was meant as a compliment.

For those of you unfamiliar with the "Type A, Type B" personality construct, allow me to give you a quick breakdown:

• Type "A" personalities are workaholic, task-driven, competitive, ambitious stress addicts
• Type "B" personalities are calm, patient, easy going meditatives.

In other words, when the Type A personality finally "goes postal," the Type B personality will be the loving, patient therapist that calmly reassures them that a demonic bunny is not, indeed, telling them the end of the world is near.

So, being the Type A that I am, motherhood immediately became something to conquer and control. I couldn't simply be a good mom, I had to be the BEST. My kid couldn't just be a good kid, he had to be THE BEST.

You can imagine how well that went over.

During the first 5 years of Malcolm's life, I found myself constantly comparing myself to other moms, analyzing their behavior and trying to figure out which method of parenting was the best way, so I could guarantee I was giving my best parent performance possible. After hearing about something one of my "mom friends" had done, I would feel guilt-ridden if I didn't somehow incorporate it into my parenting style. If one was creative and did art projects, I would try that with Malcolm. If one was super strict on the kinds of food she allowed her child to eat, I would suddenly find myself eliminating pudding from the fridge and adding more fruit. If one was more free-flowing and felt like we put too many "rules" on kids, I'd try to lighten up - the pudding would come back and bring some friends (cookies anyone?) and rules went out the window.

What was the result of all these escapades? A closet full of unused art supplies, half-finished projects, a child who is extremely confused on how often he is allowed to eat sweets, and a mother who felt worse than before.

Over the last year, I've finally started to "come into my own" as a parent. I am finally beginning to realize that I need to be the parent I feel is best for Malcolm, and that emerges most naturally from me. So far, that seems to mean a good balance of the Disney Channel and book reading, cookies and apples with peanut butter, and yes, the occasional art project. But now, this all feels natural and fun, and less like a competition for Mother of the Year.

Honestly, at this point I don't care if I'm the best Mom out there - I just care that I'm the best one for Malcolm.

Nurture Shock

I have started reading a new book entitled "Nurture Shock." The premise of the book is that a lot of conventional wisdom about child rearing is really not helping our children. For example, the idea of constant praise...

In the chapter titled "The Inverse Power of Praise," the authors share study after study that showed that children who are praised for their intelligence often end up not putting in effort for things that are difficult for them. They seem to feel that if it doesn't come easily, it must not be "their thing." Additionally, they want to preserve their title of "smart" and won't risk public failure. The authors (and the many scientists they cited) suggest praising the child for very specific items, and for their effort, rather than just giving the title "smart."

From the book:

"Emphasizing effort gives a child a variable they can control...They come to see themselves as in control of their success. Emphasizing natural intelligence takes it out of the child's control, and it provides no good recipe for responding to a failure."

...and...

"When they get to college, heavily-praised students commonly drop out of classes rather than suffer a mediocre grade, and they have a hard time picking a major - they're afraid to commit to something because they're afraid of not succeeding."

Holy Cow. Can I just tell you, that last sentence is totally me? I dropped out of physics for fear of ruining my GPA, and I floated from major to major. Fear of success is very palpable for me. Interesting.

I've noticed this even with Malcolm. We tell him he's smart ALL of the time. But then I began to notice that he would give up easily or get frustrated when trying something he didn't innately understand. He would sigh in frustration and sometimes even cry. Over time, I tried explaining to him the importance of trying and would encourage him to move forward, praising him for his effort. I didn't realize that the *real* impact of praising his effort will really come from the times he is very successful at what he has accomplished, and we choose to praise him for the hard work he did to make that happen.

I believe I will be changing the way I interact with my child! I'm only on chapter 2 of this book, but so far I highly recommend it.

Confession time.

I think there is a common feeling among a lot of us mothers that we need to defend our intellect once we push those little buggers out. Those of us who had worked to shape careers prior to having children are faced with the decision of stopping work, continuing on, or making some part-time employment adjustment. For some, this decision is easy, whichever path they chose. Others struggle with guilt on one or the other side of the equation: either we feel guilty for going back to work and secretly enjoying getting away, or we feel as though we've wasted our college degrees and thrown in the towel on our intellect by staying at home to "just be a mom."

I am one of those people who has a really difficult time making decisions. I'm also someone who has had to defend her intellect on many an occasion. High school teachers and college professors were always "surprised" to find me at the top of my class. Business men routinely discount my ability to participate in the business world, and sometimes ignore me altogether. A part of me feels constantly on edge, ready to prove my intelligence if needed.

It is this piece of me that keeps me from updating this blog on a regular basis.

I have another blog, where I talk about spiritual things, thoughtful things...but honestly, it's exhausting to me. I enjoy having these discussions, but trying to type out my thoughts in a coherent manner on heavy spiritual, political, or otherwise intellectual topics after spending the day at work writing grants, organizing finances, and building partnerships is just not appealing. However, I feel obligated to do so, as it will help me appear to be a thoughtful, intelligent human being. Updating a "mommy blog" and delighting in my son just seems so...pedestrian. (see? I can use big words!)

It was this feeling that also has made me have a stop-and-go flow on progress on a book I was thinking about writing...about motherhood. Part of me was afraid to have my definition reduced to one role I carry in my life. After all, I'm a mother, wife, sister, daughter, friend, nonprofit director...

But I can't change the fact that motherhood has profoundly changed me. And for the better, in my opinion. Being a mother is like having a huge mirror constantly held up in front of you. Since becoming one, I've gotten a better handle on my temper, improved my self-esteem drastically, learned a great deal more patience...and I'm still learning. Not to mention, my abilities to catch things mid-air and find missing items have increased tenfold.

So...here I am again, making a promise to update my blog more. This is a promise to myself, however, because it helps me focus more on Malcolm, and less on task achievement, and will keep me (hopefully) disciplined as I work toward finishing this book.

Hopefully, through this blog and book writing experiment, I can find the happy balance and prove that being a mommy doesn't mean abandoning your intellect. In fact, I look forward to the day when I finally stop taking myself so seriously, and can simply delight in the wonder and innocence of childhood.

Now, if I just had a sugar daddy...

His #1 gal

So, Malcolm and I were watching the Disney Channel yesterday, and on one of the shows, two of the characters shared a brief kiss. I looked at him and asked, "You're not into girls yet, right?" He turns at me with that exasperated look on his face and says "I love YOU, Mommy!" (ah....warms my heart) Me, of course, I have to push the envelope...so I say "Even when you find that one special girl, I'll still be your #1 gal, right?" He looks at me, exhales dramatically, and states, "No, Mommy." With mock (ok, somewhat real) hurt on my face, I exclaim, "I WON'T?!?" Malcolm's response: "No, Mommy...you'll be my #2 girl!!"

Ah, such wisdom at such a young age. As much as it hurts to admit it, I won't always be the most important woman in my son's life. And, even now, he knows that. He's explained several times that he can't wait until he is a daddy, has his own wife and kids and lives in his own house. He has even stated that he thinks he'll move out around the age of 21.

While part of me is saddened to even start thinking about these things, I am very proud of Malcolm's sense of independence. While he does have some emotional attachment issues here and there, he seems to have a deeper intellectual understanding that some day, he will grow up and not need Mommy and Daddy so much anymore.

But, for now...I get to remain his #1 gal. I'll enjoy it while I can.