Tag: parenting

Teaching Children Responsibility

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Six years ago, I borrowed a book from my daughters’ preschool. The book was called Teaching Your Children Responsibility. I don’t remember any advice from the book. All I know is that I never returned the book to the preschool lending library.

I have felt guilty about not returning that book for six years. I try to model responsibility and consistency. Sometimes I model guilt and blame.

For the mess in our apartment I like to blame my husband Chris and his Parkinson’s Disease and my children who have no good excuse. And of course I blame myself because I don’t discipline them enough and I would rather write before work and play tennis after work than clean and do laundry. I would rather go out to Happy Hour with my work peeps than make a family dinner. How often have I said, “Let’s order Chinese food again, kids”?

I may be irresponsible but I am happy. I may be guilty but I am keeping the Cottage, the best Chinese restaurant on the Upper West Side in business.

I may be messy, but I am creative. This is what I tell myself. In our country house there is a magnet on the fridge. It says, “A creative mind is seldom tidy.” So true.

This jibes with my Rule Number 5: Expect the best, love what you get. Even from yourself.

Someday I’ll return that library book. Until then, I’ll try loving myself.

Mommy Needs Sleep

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“Mom needs a good night’s sleep,” Chris told the kids.

After the dinner of tabouli was cleared away, we had a family meeting on the subject of Mom and sleep.

The night before last was horrible. H. came into bed with me because he was hot and I have the only bedroom, thanks to the generosity of our building’s handyman, with an air conditioner. Then C. came into bed an hour or two later because she couldn’t sleep. All the lights were still on. It was 3 in the morning. Chris was watching a movie. It was disquieting. When I left my bed for hers, crowded out by C. and H., C. followed me back into her twin bed, calling, “Mom? Where are you?”

“I’m in your bed!”

Musical beds.

Because of Chris’s very irregular sleep habits — he’s up all night playing bridge on the computer or watching movies he borrows from the library and he snores loudly — we hardly sleep together any more. We’ve set up a twin bed for him in the dining room.

As Chris said at the family meeting: “Do not wake Mom. She needs sleep.”

To that I said, “Thank you. As a mother I need patience. And as a writer I need mental acuity. Both of these are possible with a good night’s sleep.”

Last night I went to bed at 10. Then I read the paper in bed for 20 minutes. It was heaven. No one bothered me all night.

This morning I have woken full of patience and mental acuity. Who knows what is possible after a good night’s sleep?

Stronger in the Broken Places

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Chris loves to watch the kids play sports, especially Hayden on the Little League field. He loves to teach them cards.

The Parkinson’s Disease makes some typical Dad things difficult, but he does them any way. He never says, “I can’t.”

He loves to cook, and he is a slow cooker.

His ability to show his love is slow too. He can’t help it.

Can any of us help who we are or what we get? I try to remember this when my husband falls asleep when I’m talking to him or walks away in the middle of a conversation. He leaves a mess worse than Linus in his wake. He refuses to leave his computer chums for real-life friends.

I try to remember who Chris used to be. I try to remember the quick flick of his wrist on the tennis court, the persistent phone calls to place our kids into pre-school, the lover of literature, the smooth dancer at the Broadway show’s after-party. He is still all of these things, but they are slower to show themselves.

I lean on and love other dads too. They might not even know how much I need them — my kids’ uncles, grandpa, friends. I lean on these father figures so my kids get the attention, love, support they need.

Fathering (and parenting) takes a village. Sometimes I feel I should do it all alone. Or I feel that that there is only this one person or one way to be a family. Or I feel I shouldn’t reveal our/my weaknesses.

But we are stronger in our broken places (I think that’s a book title). The shoulder bone Hayden broke when playing baseball is stronger at the point of its break, which happened to be the growth plate.

When we lean on one another, we are stronger. We reinforce the growth plate.

By remembering why we love someone and getting over the frustration of that challenge (if possible), there is an ease and a deep gratitude. And if that doesn’t work, there’s always anti-depressants.

I’d like to write more about this but I have to go and make a Father’s Day breakfast. I have to call my own father and say, Thank you!

Summer To Do List

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  1. Hold a baby
  2. Go to the IWWG (International Women’s Writing Guild) conference at Yale http://www.iwwg.org/2011-summer-conference
  3. Take art classes with my father and sister in Vermont  http://www.black-horse.com/PDF/Art%20Event%20Flyer%202010.pdf
  4. Take H. and his friends to 6 Flags for his birthday
  5. Continue to work hard and have passion for my day job
  6. Take family to Ocean Grove, NJ, Jones Beach, or Shelter Island over 4th of July weekend
  7. Keep writing every day
  8. Toes in the grass and picnics in Riverside Park as often as weather allows
  9. Get a mani-pedi
  10. Join Improv or comedy class
  11. Meet with agent again on book
  12. Revisit my young adult novel
  13. Read all books for book clubs
  14. Keep working out every day — tennis, Pilates, biking, or running
  15. Visit a church a day once kids go to camp
  16. Update my resume
  17. Get more help for Chris and household management
  18. Research joining a writer’s room or applying for writer-in-residence program
  19. Befriend new families in kids’ new Fall schools/classes
  20. Prepare kids well for camp
  21. Have a party while kids are at camp
  22. Replace or do something about annoying kitchen cabinets
  23. Eat more fish
  24. Walk across the Brooklyn Bridge
  25. Comment on and read other blogs
  26. Tweet every day
  27. Do a reading of my work at least once a month
  28. Plan an international trip for me and the kids
  29. Get my bike tuned up
  30. Quit making lists
What’s on your Summer To Do list?

Sexy Moms Like Cleopatra

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For Mother’s Day, let’s remember Cleopatra who became even more powerful when she had children. It’s a little different today when parenthood enhances a man’s career but detracts from a woman’s.

Cleopatra: A Life by Stacy Schiff

When my book club read Cleopatra: A Life by Stacy Schiff, we were blown away by how Egypt and nearby nations bowed to Cleopatra’s empire-building. She followed in the footsteps of Alexander the Great.

I wished I lived at a time when motherhood was empowering and sexy. It was a part of their religious life. The universe of Ancient Egypt was ruled by sexy goddesses like Isis – earth mother, sensual creature, healing presence, happy lover.

“Motherhood not only enhanced Cleopatra’s authority…but solidified her links with the native priests,” Schiff says.

One problem in the Christian tradition is that our model for motherhood is a passive, ever-suffering, homebound Mary, not an active, sexy, pleasure-seeking adventurer. In the Christian tradition, motherhood does not solidify our spiritual place among the priests.

We need more Isis.

I don’t know about you, but I’d like to believe motherhood has made me more powerful and sexy, not submissive and virginal.

Reading Cleopatra reminded me that this time is not the only time. We can find new archetypes from other traditions and times when mothers had power.

And style. Like sometimes I wonder — am I destined to wear stretch waistband pants from Coldwater Creek? No, I can wear sexy togas and jewel-encrusted snake armbands like Cleopatra did.

What am I saying? Tying up a toga is exhausting. Motherhood is exhausting. Most modern mothers are too tired to be sensual and too preoccupied with children to care about empowerment or sexuality.

On that happy note, Happy Mother’s Day! To celebrate, I think I’ll go clean a bathroom. Or maybe I’ll just read a book and fantasize about a time when being a mother imbued an already powerful woman with even more power.

Asking for Help

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Do you ever borrow a cup of sugar from a neighbor?

Asking for help — even a half-cup of help — is difficult for most of us. We  like to be the helpers, not the helped.

I have borrowed an egg or sugar from a neighbor. I’ve got several go-to neighbors in our apartment building. I’ve done it more than once.

Honestly, I’ve usually sent the kids to do my borrowing. (The same way I’ve sent them to the subway musician with a dollar to put in an open guitar case.) Kids are good at doing the begging, borrowing and paying out for the parents.

I’ve been thinking about all of this while reading The Price of Privilege: How Parental Pressure and Material Advantage Are Creating a Generation of Disconnected and Unhappy Kids by Madeline Levine. She says:

Women often slide into unhealthy dependency when we turn to our children for the loving connections missing in our adult relationships…The idea of trekking over to a neighbor’s house when the pantry is short an item or two seems almost laughable now. The easy camaraderie that existed among working-class women, a function of both desire and necessity has been lost to take-out food, housekeepers and a fear that revealing our problems, no mater how incidental, will result not in support but in embarrassment.

Hmmmm, yes. To counter the self-reliance I feel imposed on me (by who? my church? my education? my status?) I’ve made my Rule Number One: Pile on the People. While I don’t like asking for help from anyone, I do need it.  A husband with Parkinson’s Disease, three kids, a full-time job and a time-consuming writing habit, I, in fact, need all the help I can get. (Another mantra — draw the circle wide.)

There is a benefit not just for us, the borrowers, but for the friend across the hall, the one whom we borrowed from. In exchange for the egg that she lent (gave) us, she received a handful of warm kid-made peanut butter cookies. I wanted to take a picture of the cookies to post on the blog, but there are only a few crumbs left. 

(I wrote about this book on my other blog, my blog about writing and being connected: http://gettingmyessayspublished.wordpress.com/2011/02/23/a-generation-of-disconnected-kids/)

10 Good Things

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On most nights I tuck my darling daughters into their beds and I whisper 10 good things about each of them. I don’t know where I came up with this random number.

I have a thing for setting random-numbered goals for myself. I always swim 8 laps in any size pool. I clean for 10 minutes. I run for 13 minutes without stopping.

My children’s recent brattiness has laid me low. Why are they mean to me? ME? I am the nicest person/mother/friend in the world! [See my post from a few days ago: http://gettingmyessayspublished.wordpress.com/2011/03/21/when-kids-are-mean-to-mom/ ]

In any case, to overcome this mean-to-mom moment, let me say 10 good things about myself. This is difficult. I feel confident pointing out my failings, but not my strengths. Here goes:

1. I am funny. 2. I am friendly. 3. I am a good writer. 4. I like to work out. 5. I am creative. 6. I listen well. 7. I am tech-savvy. 8.

I have to stop here and admit I am running out of good things to say. I am bored. I am staring out my window at work and looking at Riverside Church blanketed with snow. It’s almost 9 am and I should get to work. Okay, moving on:

8. I am a hard worker. 9. I love my job. 10. I like staring out the window.

That’s it for me. What are 10 good things about you?

Am Running Today

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This is my least favorite part of the day, waking the children. It’s drizzling and it’s Sunday. They’re not excited about today’s 5K at 9 am. A part of me does wonder, Why am I making them and myself run? It’s a huge hassle and I’d rather stay in bed with the New York Times.

I want us to run, because I know we will feel euphoric when we finish. We will have set and then exceeded some small goal. Life rarely offers opportunities to chart your progress.

I remember the first time I took my son ice skating in Central Park. The first time he went around the rink, he fell eight times. The second time around the rink, he fell two times. And after that, he hardly fell at all. That is how it goes. Take them out and let them fall. And soon they will stand and even skate and run on their own. And there’s some pride in that.

Wish me luck in waking my darlings, in finding running shoes, and in getting to the race on time. It’s not easy, but I believe, somehow, it will be worth it. If we just cross the finish line, we will have won.

http://www.nyrr.org/races/2010/r0307x00.asp

Public School Rules

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Although this blog is dedicated to My Seven Rules for Living, I do have two other non-negotiable rules for my kids:

1. No ball playing in the house.

2. No running with sticks.

You’d think the kids would have internalized these rules, but on a weekly basis I have to remind them not to bounce balls off the walls or whip them at their siblings.

Every school, every family, and every person lives by rules. Even if you have no rules, that’s a rule.

And so it is at the public school where my son plays basketball on Saturday mornings, the rule stands that the innocent ice cream cone is not allowed. She is not welcome. Poor little ice cream cone. She shows up at school ready to learn, wearing her back pack and her sunniest smile, but no, my little friend, you are not allowed.

We have to have rules.

She could come to my house, I could homeschool the little ice cream cone. But someone would eat her. And that would be the end.

The End.

Rule #5 Expect the Best, Love What You Get

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I was inspired by “A Complaint Free World” by Will Bowen. So for a while, I gave up complaining. It was difficult. I felt like a Pollyanna, nodding politely while people complained about work, the weather, or their commute. I said nothing in return.

I do think complaining begets complaining. No one like a complainer. (And I tell my kids this, but it doesn’t stop them! Wait! I don’t want to start complaining about their complaining.)

In our Leadership Academy, last weekend, I discovered one of my strengths was labeled positivity. I felt negative about my positivity. Especially at work I have felt that coworkers believe me to be intellectually lightweight because I am optimistic and affirming.

At times in life it takes more intellectual energy to remain positive than to give in to a world of complaint. I have plenty to complain about. Believe me! I could start with the weather. It’s pouring snow again tonite. I just heard thunder!

But really, I’m sure someone (me?) can find something good in another snowstorm. I have to believe that Spring will arrive eventually. The hardships we now experience will seem distant.

The other morning I woke the kids, made them breakfast, got myself ready, got the kids out the door. I realized, too late, one of the girls had left her homework on the kitchen table. I ran for three blocks to the block right before school. I handed her the half-finished homework. She hugged me.

I saw a friend on the street. I was panting for breath, shaking my head. “Someday, we’ll look back and wonder how we did it all,” I said.

“Someday we won’t have to do it all,” she said, catching up with her kids in front of her.

And probably we’ll miss it.