Tag: parenting

Shabbat Dinner

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We all need a healthy dinner and time to savor it. Family dinner time is a sacred space to sit down together, to chat, to chew, to lean back in your  chair, (even when you’re told not to).

Sure I say all this, but do we do it? Last night, I ordered pork fried rice, chicken with broccoli and spicy dumplings from the Cottage. I grabbed a few bites. Then I yelled, “Chinese food on the kitchen table,” over my shoulder.

I was running out the front door as my three kids ran in. I was going to my non-fiction class. The kids were coming home from math club, play practice and track team. My husband was working. That is how we roll — busy, busy, busy.

I believe in family dinner time. I really do. So we started a Friday night dinner ritual. We’re Christian, but our ritual is based on the Jewish tradition of Shabbat dinner. (Thanks to my friend, Joe Little, who suggested this as we sat on the sidelines of our girls’ Westside basketball league and to my upstairs neighbor Ran, who has invited us to many Friday night Shabbat dinners over the years.)

On Friday nights, we turn off the computer screens and phones, we meet in the kitchen and light a candle or two, we drink grape juice, and someone cracks open the Bible (we use the brilliant translation, The Message by Eugene Peterson).

We usually read one of the Psalms, because they’re poetic, dramatic and understandable. It takes all of ten minutes, but it’s an awesome way to decompress from the week and enter the weekend. And then we have dinner and just hang out.

Last week, after our Shabbat prayer and dinner, we played the card game, Spoons. Then we watched a movie. No biggie, just chilled and relaxed.

We should have Shabbat again tonite, but one of my girls has a statewide math competition, the other is going on a sleepover, and my husband has rehearsal. That just leaves me and my son. It’s fine that it’s just the two of us.

We’ll light a candle, read the Psalms, and savor some left-over Chinese food.

Time Management

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I want to get my kids off the internet and focus on their homework. I want to be a beacon of light for them, teaching my darlings the ancient art of self-discipline.

My brother J. says that in work styles, we are either woodpeckers of hummingbirds. And I think we can agree that the Coudals are hummingbirds, whirring, darting, tasting, moving, buzzing. I would like to try life as a woodpecker, hammering away, dull, obedient, effective.

I actually have a lot of down time, like the other night, here, I was double parked, waiting to drive my daughters to book club.

I believe breathing has to do with focus. I would like to teach my kids to take deep breaths into the depths of their beings to improve their ability to focus.

Or at least guide my children in the art of becoming effective managers of their limited time. We are all given the same amount time per day. It’s not like money; it is an equitable resource.

And I’d like to write more about this, but first let me dart off and tell you that last night, I read this interesting article, Are You As Busy As You Think? by Laura Vanderkam for the Wall Street Journal.

The article reminded me that when I hear people complain about how busy they are, I think they’re trying to tell me, “I’m important.” It’s anathema in this culture to say, “Yup, I’ve got the right balance of work and life. I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

No, we must be martyrs on the pyre of overwork. And if someone tells me, “Mary Beth, you seem to have the work/life balance down. You’re good at self-care,” I think, “Ummm, are you telling me I’m lazy?” I don’t know where I got this paradigm that I should act extremely busy and overworked at all times.

I’d like to write more, but I’ve got to get to work (but first, check my Facebook) because I am sooooooooo busy. No, wait, let me first take a few deep, cleansing breaths. And focus!

Forgiving the Bad Apples

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We had a class meeting the other night. One parent reported that a few bad apples have spoiled the whole class’s reputation. Several people nodded and one parent said something like, “Yes, if we were rid of those bad apples, everything would be fine.” Most of us nodded. (I didn’t even know the bad apples, but what she said made sense. Like the song goes, “One bad apple don’t spoil the whole bunch, girl.” Oh, wait, one doesn’t spoil the whole bunch! Good to know!)

One woman spoke up, “I think we’re too involved. Let’s let the kids work it out themselves.”

Jones Beach in winter

Another said, “Yes, we should teach our children to be forgiving. We hold our grudges for too long.”

Walking out with these new friends from the meeting, I said to the woman who advocated forgiveness, “What a powerful idea. I forget about forgiveness.”

“Some of my students’ parents still remember when their child was wronged in 1st grade and I teach 8th grade,” said a new friend, a teacher in another school. “We have to let go.”

I’ve thought about this conversation for several days. I wonder if I, like many people, define myself by NOT being one of the bad apples (and certainly none of MY children are rotten!). And I’m not sure I always forgive and forget.

I have always liked being a good apple. And have enjoyed the smug pride of my righteous, responsible and kind nature.

I actually despise bad apples. I detest overly negative people. (Especially since giving up gossip again this Lent!) And yet, I recognize the irony — I am extremely negative about negative people.

I wonder if I might try this new practice of forgiving the bad apples, the good apples, the negative people and even, myself.

Soccer Mom vs. Theater Mom

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Yesterday, chilly, I was on the sidelines for CoCo’s 8 am soccer game. I was rewarded for this parental duty by seeing her score two goals. WTG! FTW!

I got thinking — being a spectator at a soccer game is not as much fun as being an audience member at a school play, as I was last weekend.

It’s better to be a theater mom (than a soccer mom):

1. The hours are more reasonable. (Theater would never start at 8 am.)

2. The seats are more comfortable. (There are no seats on the soccer sidelines.)

3. The show is indoors. (No need to wear mittens!)

4. The cast party has better food. (Last weekend, after the play, we had finger foods and oodles of fancy cupcakes. After the soccer game, we shared a box of Entenmann’s.)

5. The players are a bit more dramatic and entertaining. (There is drama and comedy — before, during and after the show. But before the soccer game, we hunted for the uniform; during the game, we cheered and tried to stay warm; after the game, we tried to stay warm.)

After the play, we lingered, carrying flowers for the performer, waiting for her to make her entrance. Of course, theater mothers have bad reps as stage mothers, controlling divas, whereas soccer moms are wooed by politicians, trawling for votes.

Writing about this — about being a supportive spectator at a play or game — reminds me of how I had to shift my attitude about my own importance once I had a baby. Suddenly, no one was that interested in me unless I brought along the baby. If I showed up empty-handed, people would ask, “Where’s the baby?”

I was no longer the star of my own show, I was a bit player with a walk-on part. Or maybe I was the dresser, making the star look good, staying backstage. At least now, with my kids as teens, preteens and tweens, I’ve moved from “back of house” to the “front of house.”

On the sporting event’s sidelines or in the audience, I want my kids to do well, look good and, God, I hate to admit this, but I also want them to, ever so occasionally, share the spotlight (with me).

Learning Is Not Easy

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I found my kids’ classrooms and tried not to embarrass them by drawing attention to my enthusiasm for learning.

As reported in the Times magazine article (What if the Secret to Success is Failure? by Paul Tough), the head of school at Riverdale, Dominic Randolph, is passionate about developing character and resilience. On Parents’ Day, Randolph spoke about his passion for learning. Here are some of Randolph’s remarks and my responses:

1. Grammar, syntax — this skills are important. But more important is voice. Voice is mystical. “Finding voice and developing it is like tending to a campfire in the night; it is easily bulldozed.”

Love this. I can have skills but I need craft, which leads me to my unique voice. Craft only shows up when I write daily. Writing, like meditation, is a practice, not an achievement. Voice is difficult to attain and easily dismissed.

2. For skills and knowledge to stick — and our writing to be compelling, simple, elegant — we need emotion and story.

Humans are wired to love stories. There is something in our brain chemistry that begs for a beginning, middle and end. We are always in pursuit of closure and resolution to our stories, but we need and love the pursuit.

Love this picture of kids at Riverdale Country School. Getting out of the classroom and into the sunshine.

3. Learning is hard. We are all in it together. We need to coax and encourage one another to share our learning.

Yes, learning may seem to be a solitary endeavor, but humans are social animals. We need the camaraderie of a shared challenge or pursuit. Pursuing learning is innate, like hunting and gathering. 

4. Learning is experiential. So we move the science class to the bank of the Hudson River.

Get out of the dark interior of your thoughts, your classroom, your computer station; get into the realm of sunshine, river and mud. Invite your senses to partake in learning. Our minds will remember more when our bodies are engaged. 

 After hearing Randolph speak, I was inspired to unleash my enthusiasm for learning and creativity, even if this enthusiasm is a source of constant embarrassment to my kids.

Yesterday, I was inspired again at NYU alumni day, when I listened to John Sexton, president, talk about the city school, “in and of the city.” http://mybeautifulnewyork.wordpress.com/2011/09/24/nyus-john-sexton/

The Times article I referenced can be found at: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/18/magazine/what-if-the-secret-to-success-is-failure.html?pagewanted=all

Five Minutes

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For the last couple of weeks, every night some time between eight and nine, I’ve been sitting down one-on-one with my kids just to listen to them. The first night, it was amazing. Each of my daughters opened up with floodgates of emotions. We cried together.

We bonded. Then the timer went off. “Our five minutes is up!” We wiped away our tears and hugged. We moved on.

While the girls have embraced the attention, my 14 year-old son just lay there, refusing to talk. “We talk all the time. Why do we have to do this? Did you read this in some book?”

In fact, I did. The book is What Did I Just Say by Denis Donovan and Deborah McIntyre. “The Five Minutes” is a tool to get parent-child conversations beyond nagging, logistics, correcting, ya know, the ways parents usually talk to and at kids.

As our five-minute sessions have worn on, the girls have begun to use the time to lobby me for what they want — a new backpack or a trip to Maine. I don’t think that’s the point. They can talk about anything and that’s what they choose?

I believe in small solutions to big problems. A small group of people can change the world. A small amount of time can make a big difference on a project. A one-day-at-a-time attitude can get you through a lifetime of worry. I’m going to keep at it. Like blogging, it only takes a few minutes, yet it clarifies my thoughts.

I love the useful nuggets found in self-help books. I read that self-help books are just as effective as therapy. They’re cheaper; you don’t have to schedule them; and they provide tools for better living. Sure, I’m an intellectual and I love to make fun of how-to books (Do What You Love and the Money Will Follow? No, I do it for money and the love will follow).

Turning my attention, even briefly, to my kids’ agendas instead of my own is very relaxing and informative. The Five Minutes is not a cure-all. But it’s an active way to be present and to let my kids know I care and I’m there. I’m listening.

Fun Without Screens

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This is not my son, but looks exactly like my son.

In the spring I took away the kids’ privilege of screens and social media from Monday to Thursday nights.

School’s starting the day after Labor Day and I want to remind the kids (and myself) that real life exists beyond the computer, Xbox, Facebook, instant messaging, and texting.

Here’s how you can have fun without screens.

  1. Shop (in real stores, not on-line)
  2. Read books
  3. Give or get a manicure/pedicure
  4. Play board games
  5. Play cards
  6. Work out
  7. Do jigsaw puzzles
  8. Play basketball in Riverside Park
  9. Go for a walk, even around the block
  10. Do a splatter art project (like Jackson Pollock)
  11. Make a collage from magazines
  12. Make a scrapbook page
  13. Talk on the phone to Chicago cousins
  14. Sit on a stoop with a friend
  15. Go to the school yard
  16. Nap
  17. Bake cookies or brownies
  18. Take a bath
  19. Go swimming at the JCC
  20. Redecorate, move furniture around
  21. Practice gymnastics in the field
  22. Read comic books
  23. Make up a dance
  24. Sing
  25. Simply be awesome

Happy Campers

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I tagged along yesterday as an older and wiser camper took my daughter on a tour of her new sleep away camp. We visited the arts and crafts cabin, petted an old horse in the stable and walked to the archery range.

But the most happening stop on the tour was at the stage set. The crew was painting, building, finding props for the production of Charlotte’s Web. Or maybe it was The Ugly Duckling. I was only half listening to the tour guide, hypnotized as I was by the young women working.

The campers and counselors were totally in the zone, like bees building a hive. Each doing their own thing, but doing it for a greater good. Work can be like this — like parallel play; like, we are doing our own thing, but we are side by side. And it all comes together in the end.

When I taught drama to kids, I tried to teach them that the lead role in a show was a small piece in a much bigger puzzle. The real world and work of theater is about collaboration. There are box office managers, set designers, costumers, musicians, lighting engineers, a variety of skilled craftspeople.

Theater is about craft — not about celebrity. It is about being in community and building something even brighter than the brightest star. Theater is about snapping the jigsaw pieces together to create the production.

As our tour guide and my daughter drifted ahead, I dawdled. I wondered if parenting, which often feels like my work alone, is a collaborative project, like a theater production. And maybe this is why I like sending my kids to camp. Yes, they are the brightest stars in my personal production. But they are, like all of us, workers on a set in a production even larger than I understand. They are co-creators of a new show. And I have to let them go.

As parents and as campers, we play our bit parts. We help build the set.

image

Becoming a Stricter Parent

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On one of the first days of Middle School, my twin daughters did not return home. It was 5 pm. Then 6 pm. My attitude moved from mildly worried to wildly apoplectic.

I walked over to their school, wondering if they’d stayed after drama class for some show in the auditorium. The police officer at the front desk (yes, NYC public schools have cops at the entrance) told me that all the school kids were gone from the building.

It started to rain. I walked down Amsterdam Avenue peering into the Jewish Community Center, wondering if they’d stopped in the café there.

I called home. My son told me they hadn’t come home yet. My phone rang. It was the pastor from Rutgers Church. I do not remember why he called.

But I blurted out, “My girls are missing. I can’t talk. I have to find them. I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Strict yet loving,” he told me. “As a parent, you must be strict yet loving.” I loved that. I especially loved how he said it – with his Czechoslavakian accent.

I have the loving part down. The strict part? Not so much.

My phone sang. My son reported that the girls had wandered into the apartment, unaware that they were late. The girls had stopped at Cosi’s café with a new girlfriend, keeping her company until her mother came to pick her up.

I got them on the phone, “Thank God you’re safe. But you are not to stop anywhere but home after school. For any reason.  Without asking me. Got that?” They agreed.  “Okay, I’m stopping in at the JCC for the support group. I need it. You kids make me crazy.”

I aim for “strict, yet loving,” yet actually deliver “make you feel guilty yet loving.”

***

This post is partly a response to my previous post — about how I feel sorry for my kids so I let them off the hook in terms of chores. And then I feel resentful and exhausted because no one but me does any damn housework. i.e., just yesterday, I worked all day, hosted the kids at the cafeteria for lunch, then came home and worked all night, including packing their stuff for today’s 7-hour train ride to the Adirondacks. (Fun! http://mybeautifulnewyork.wordpress.com/2011/07/17/trains-are-better-than-planes/ ) Then last night at 11 pm, they wanted to wrestle on my bed, where I had finally settled in for ten minutes of Me Time with a book.

“I’m sorry I’m done for the day, my friend,” I told my littlest darling. “You are too. Go to bed.”

I suck at setting boundaries.

That reminds me — I have gotten into some conversations after that post on making my kids do more housework. I know I have to make them work harder around the house. It is not easy for me. I have to try. I have to be strict yet loving.

The Working Mother’s Guilt

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I feel guilty for working. My husband does not work much, but when he does, no one makes him feel bad. It’s a mother thing.

My sister-in-law who owns her own business reported that in a parent-teacher meeting one of the teachers told her, “I can tell that you work outside the home, because your children are very hard workers.”

I think about that conversation a lot. It comforts me. Although I am plagued with guilt – whenever I have to be away from the kids for a night or a late evening for work — I hope that the kids notice, appreciate and feel motivated to work hard too.

I hope women on all sides of the work equation realize that women’s lives are in flux.

One of my best friends whom I met when our kids were in preschool, is a banker. She wore a business suit to the preschool graduation. In my stained sweat suit, I was jealous. I was a stay at home mom, trying to scare up freelance writing work, but  found only new toddler Mommy and Me classes. I contemplated writing a book called Stay at Home Moms: How They Work! Then I landed my fulltime gig.

My friend quit her job. For seven years she was a stay at home mom, working for no pay — as in serving as president of the parent’s association. This year she returned to the paid world of banking.

I’ve been a fulltime working mother since the girls’ toddler years, saving my sweatsuit for the weekends.

I like to think the kids secretly like and benefit from the fact that their mother works hard and is the family breadwinner.

Working Mother magazine reported that ’57 percent of working mothers feel guilty every single day, and 31 percent feel guilty at least once a week.’ I am not alone.

This relates to my Rule Number 7 to Embrace uncertainty. One day you’re a stay at home mom and the next day you’re back in business. Enjoy it. Work hard wherever you find yourself and try not to feel guilty or jealous along the way.