19 Sep

Managed Expectations

Posted by I suck as a parent in Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , .

I just returned from a four-day tour of colleges with my son and aside from my scratched cornea and a cough that has forced me to sleep upright on my living room couch, we got nothing out of it.

I had grand plans for our trip. We were going to talk and laugh and bond over our weekend experience.  We would discuss the high and low points of the colleges we visited and laugh about the ridiculous questions that other parents asked (questions like, “How many volumes does the library have?”). We would return home with private jokes and be closer than ever.

Instead we bickered and fought and I threatened over and over again to fly home without him. Our discussions about the schools we visited were reduced to single sentences like:

“This tour guide is TOO happy. I don’t want to go to school here.”

or

“I really don’t want to go to school in the South or East.” (Which would have been fine except that we were in South Carolina… heading northeast).

Mostly I drove and he napped. There were no heart-warming chats, no easy laughter, no communication of any kind other than his occasional requests for bathroom breaks and, of course, food.

Naturally, this is my fault (what isn’t, right?). I just expect too much. A good friend of mine has suggested—on more than one occasion—that I simply need to “manage my expectations.” Apparently, I expected to be traveling with my oldest son as he was when he was younger: chatty, enthusiastic and willing to share every detail of his life with me. I should have realized that I was traveling with a 17-year-old who wanted to be home with his girlfriend and had no intention of telling me anything beyond when and what he needed to eat.

Why should I expect it to be different?

Because I want it to be – damn it!

It’s really not fair that you are handed one kind of kid when they are born and they turn into something unrecognizable in a little over a decade. I haven’t changed – I’m still the anxious, over-protective, demanding parent I’ve always been. My boys, on the other hand, have morphed into cats.

That is the best explanation for this transformation. According to the writer, Adair Lara, in her essay, When Children Turn Into Cats, my once adorable children, who I often referred to as puppies – enthusiastic, sweet and undemanding – are now distant and uncommunicative felines.

Lara’s descriptions were spot on. I remember the way my kids would look at me when they were little – they were amazed at how brilliant and capable I was – it was almost overwhelming. Now, as Lara explains, your kids are still amazed, “[a]mazed, as if wondering who died and made you emperor.”

And now, “Instead of dogging your footsteps, [your cat/teenager] disappears.”

If you are the parent of a teen you know that one day your kid can’t get enough of you and the next he can’t get far enough away.

Lara’s solution seems simple enough: learn how to act like a cat owner and put your “dog owner” hat on the back-burner until your kids come back around.

It’s great advice if you are willing or able to change, but I’m not (you know, old dog/new trick kinda thing). I’m also managing my expectations – I would expect­ this to take too long and not work very well. By the time I figure it out they will be out of the house.

Besides, I’m allergic to cats…

 

11 Sep

Big News!

Posted by I suck as a parent in family, kids, motherhood, parenting, Uncategorized, writing. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

I have some really exciting news – and, no, I am NOT pregnant. That certainly would be “news” but not exactly the “exciting” kind.

No, today I was launched as a blogger for Manilla – an on-line, award-winning, free and secure service for consumers to manage their bills and accounts, in one place.

(But that’s not where I come in because I have no idea how to pay my bills on-line…yet)

Manilla.com, which is owned by the Hearst Corporation, also hosts a blog with over 75 expert contributors who write about money, organization, productivity and lifestyle topics on a monthly basis. I will be sharing my “expertise” about the joy and pain and stress and (joy!) of preparing two children to go off into the world as mature, responsible adults.

I was really drawn to Manilla when I saw their booth at the BlogHer Conference in Chicago in July. This t-shirt spoke to me:

photo

I’m always trying to get my s**t together; I thought having the t-shirt would help with that. It was definitely the first step.

If you want to get your s**t together, check out the site and the blogs and see what the other writers have to say about family, health, time management and money strategies.

But wait, there’s more!

If that wasn’t exciting enough for you, today is also the day that the new anthology, Not Your Mother’s Book…On Being a Parent is being released nationwide…and one of my stories is in the book!

Parenting 450_rgb

I am very excited to be part of this series of books and to have my parenting story be published alongside some really funny authors who simply tell it like it is—the good, the bad and the WTF? Not Your Mother’s Book…On Being a Parent is just one title in a slew of humorous books published by Publishing Syndicate, on topics ranging from college to menopause and everything in between.

So, without further ado, here is the piece that was included in the book. Although I wrote it a couple of years ago, very little has changed except that now I have two teenaged boys to feed.

Feeding the Hangry

“I’m so hungry and there is NOTHING TO EAT!”

And so begins the after school fun.

My 15-year-old will stand in front of an open refrigerator teeming with food—yogurt, wedges of multiple types of cheese, tortillas for quesadillas, frozen ravioli, drawers full of fruit and lunch meat, 3 different kinds of bread, frozen pizzas, 2 kinds of peanut butter, 3 different jellies, eggs (uncooked and hardboiled), and every kind of condiment you can imagine—and complain that there is no food in the fridge.

This is usually followed by words that make my blood boil: “Make me SOMETHING!”

Keeping up with the food intake of a 15-year-old boy is a very time-consuming (not to mention, expensive) proposition. My son needs to eat at least every 2 hours or he becomes Hangry – no, it’s not a typo – he becomes so hungry that he becomes angry and nobody needs a teenager who is angrier than usual.

He is capable of consuming an entire sub sandwich, a large bag of chips, yogurt and fruit and he’ll finish all of this off with a bowl of cereal. That’s between 3:30 and 3:45. By 4:15 he is starving!

So, what does he do? Does he then sort through the pantry and whip up a satisfying snack? Does he sift through his memories to find one of the endless recipes that I have painstakingly demonstrated to him should he find himself hungry and alone? No, of course not.  He waits for me to make him something or he grabs a completely unsatisfying cereal bar and moans until dinner.

I have been saying for years that he would starve to death if someone weren’t there to feed him. And whose fault is this? Mine. I take all the blame for this one.  I have gratefully fed him all of these years because he loves food—especially my food. What mother wouldn’t want to hear her child gush about how good her food is? “You’re the best cooker,” he told me when he was 5 as he inhaled whatever dish I put in front of him. That was cute then. Now, not so much.

So the other day, while he was begging me to make him some spinach ravioli with browned butter and shaved Parmesan (yes, yes, I’ve spoiled him, I know!), I turned to him and said: “No – make it yourself.”

“But I don’t know how,” he insisted. “And you’re right here. You could make it better.”

“Pretend I’m dead,” I responded. He turned to me in horror.
“What?” he asked.

“Pretend I’m dead,” I repeated. “How would you eat?”

I could see the wheels turning.  Should he demonstrate his limited cooking skills and make a quesadilla or should he pour another bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios?

It’s usually around this time – right after I’ve thrown down the gauntlet and demanded that he learn to take care of himself that I start to feel myself back-peddling. Would it really be so horrible to continue to cook for him while he lives at home? Couldn’t I just baby him a little while longer, he’ll be gone in a few years, right?

The reality is he would eventually find food or find a way to make food. He likes food far too much to subsist on sugar cereal and frozen waffles. He even signed up for a Creative Cuisine class next year at school. But why would he ever put any of those skills to use if I’m around to feed him? And should a 15-year-old have to?

What’s worse: not feeding your child who is asking for food or not teaching your child to fend for himself?

I feel my defenses breaking down. I’m just about to break out the pots and pans when he decides to answer me.

“If you weren’t around to feed me…I’d order take out.”

Problem solved.

4 Sep

Top Ten Reasons Why I’m a Crappy Soccer Mom

Posted by I suck as a parent in Uncategorized.

It’s soccer season again and, as always, I find myself slacking in my parenting duties. Sure, I get my kid to practices and games on time, I shove a water bottle in his backpack, and I drive countless hours to stand on the sidelines and not say a word (see #9 below) but I’m still not in the running for “Soccer Mom of the Year.”

I wasn’t Baseball Mom of the Year either and there is no way I’ll be Track Mom of the Year. I’ve been to two of my older son’s track meets in two years! Yes, I know, I’m a crappy track mom but, come on! He’s a sprinter, so even if he runs in three events he is done in less than 75 seconds. Do you know how long a track meet is?? (2-3 hours, in case you didn’t know).

So this weekend, as I drove back-and-forth to my son’s soccer tournament, I thought about all of the “good sports moms” (and dads) who I watched on the sidelines and I realized what they could teach me:

  1. A good soccer mom would not sit in the car flipping through a stack of magazines when it is raining/below 30 degrees/above 90 degrees. She would be properly dressed and sitting on the sidelines.
  2. A good soccer mom would take photos of her child playing soccer. The only photos I have of my kid are from four years ago and he’s in the background of a picture of someone else’s kid…at least I think that’s my kid.
  3. A good soccer mom would not send her child to soccer practice when the heat index is over 100 degrees without the appropriate gear. Cooling towels and Gatorade are musts; one bottle of water is, apparently, not enough.
  4. A good soccer mom would not send her child to soccer practice with a sore throat/the sniffles/a hacking cough unless she had already ruled out strep or swine flu.
  5. A good soccer mom would observe the self-imposed 24-hour rule and not talk about all the ways in which her child did not do well as soon as his mud-caked butt hit the car seat.
  6. A good soccer mom would pack snacks for her kid traveling to and from soccer games and tournaments so she wouldn’t have to stop at the gas-station mini-mart to pick up beef jerky and pork rinds.
  7. A good soccer mom would have clothing items in the exact shade of blue (or green or yellow) as her child’s uniform or at the very least have lots of clothing with the team logo on it. (Ok, this is definitely more of a baseball parent thing but I saw a lot of color-coordinated parents this weekend.)
  8. A good soccer mom would be the team manager and the team coach and the team mascot and not simply check the box that reads “let me know if you need anything” knowing full well that all of the other good soccer moms already have it covered.
  9. A good soccer mom would not embarrass her child by yelling out, “Take the ball up!” or “Run!” Your child can hear you (all evidence to the contrary) and any words of “encouragement” are distracting and annoying (trust me; ask your child).
  10. A good soccer mom would never utter the words: “This game would be so much better with a margarita.” Or would she…?

What kind of sports parent are you?

27 Aug

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Posted by I suck as a parent in back-to-school, boys, children, humor, kids, motherhood, parenting, school, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , .

No, it’s not Christmas, it’s back-to-school time!!

I have always loved back-to-school time but as I’ve gotten older my reasons for loving it have changed.

When I was a kid I loved shopping for supplies and buying new fall clothes. I still get the itch to buy a nubby sweater in mid-August just so I have something new for school. And, of course, I loved buying school supplies because there is nothing better than a brand new box of 64 Crayola crayons. (Burnt Sienna and Periwinkle will always have a special place in my heart).

Then, once I had kids, back-to-school time was equally exciting because the kids were excited (and I could buy Crayola crayons again- yea!). Everything was new: New teachers! New classrooms! And, even though their friends lived within a two-block radius and they spent their days together at the park the kids still couldn’t wait to see their friend IN SCHOOL and have recess IN SCHOOL!

As the kids have grown, all of our attitudes toward back-to-school have changed.  I still buy school supplies – but they are no longer as interesting to buy. Now it’s more like a scavenger hunt. Do you know how hard it is to find a composition book filled with 4×4 graph paper? I don’t think it actually exists. I think the teacher just puts it on the list because he hates us.

And the kids don’t even look forward to school anymore. First of all, they no longer get recess which, lets face it, was always the best part of school and second, they don’t need to go to school to see their friends because they are always at my house.

Which is why I’m singing Christmas songs.

The most wonderful time of the year has to be back-to-school time because I get my house back – at least from Sunday night through Friday afternoon.

Don’t get me wrong; I like that my kids have their friends over but there are times when I would really, really (really) like to put on my pajamas at 8:00 pm and sit on my family room couch within striking distance of the fridge.

We have a basement but it’s not very large so the 15-20 kids who end up at my house are usually sprawled on my family room couch. Even if they are in the basement I don’t want them to come upstairs to find me in my Mickey Mouse pajama top dipping into a box of cereal with a white wine chaser.

Some things are really best done privately.

The problem isn’t just that these kids are at my house all night. It’s that our youngest has his friends over from the time he wakes up until dinner, when his older brother’s friends are just arriving.

You are probably wondering why I just don’t kick them out – tell them to find someone else’s house to hang out in.

Then you are clearly not the parent of teenagers.

I want them here because I know where they are and who they are with. If I kick them out, even once, I’m afraid they will end up at the house where no one strolls through the kitchen casually making eye contact to check for dilated pupils or smelling for beer and tequila.

And, so, I put up with the inconvenience of eating popcorn (and sometimes dinner) in my bed with my comfy clothes on—but no pajamas—and I patiently wait for the “Hap, Happiest Season of All”: Back to School.

2 Aug

On My Next Family Trip – I Leave My Family Behind

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, humor, kids, motherhood, parenting, Summer travel, Uncategorized.

My family is leaving for a two-week trip to Greece tomorrow so naturally I have been on the computer all morning trying to find a way to shorten the trip and fly home early.

No one really wants to go on this trip – which would have been nice to know before we booked it – but that would have been too easy. Here are some of the complaints I’ve heard so far:

–       “It’s going to be soooooo hot.”

–       “My friends are doing all these cool things while I’m gone, like camping and salsa dancing” (salsa dancing? seriously?)

–       “I need to talk to my girlfriend and the internet will be spotty.”

–       “It sounds boring – why couldn’t we go to Italy instead; they have a gladiator school?”

–       “Aren’t there riots there?”

I don’t necessarily want to go either, but I’ve been to Greece so it’s not like I need to see it. I just thought it was time for my kids to explore their roots.

I am a 100% first-generation Greek and I haven’t been to Greece in over 20 years.  My husband and my kids have never been to Greece – they’ve never met my cousins or met my aunts and uncles who are the last of my father’s siblings and are not going to be around much longer.

Besides, I thought my kids would want to go to Greece. They LOVE Greek Mythology! The Percy Jackson books sparked my kids love of reading so I figured Greece would be exciting for them.

Apparently, seeing the actual Temple of Poseidon does not trump going to a Chicago Cubs baseball game with friends.

I should have known better.

As I lay in bed last night trying to figure out an alternate plan for this vacation I had an epiphany: I don’t need to take my kids on any more of our extravagant vacations. They can get to all these places one day on their own.

Seriously, what have I been thinking?

My kids like to travel (usually) and it’s become the only guaranteed family time we can grab—no friends, no sports—so I like the idea of taking a family vacation but really, do I need to fly them to a different continent? They would be happy going to Disney.

I don’t even know if my youngest remembers going to London and Paris when he was seven-years-old or if he even remembers traveling to Australia a couple of years ago (hands-down, the greatest vacation ever!) So, although I like to say that I’m taking my kids on these trips so they can see the world, it’s so I can see the world…and not go to Disney.

My parents didn’t take me on exotic vacations when I was a kid. Although my trips to Greece sound exotic, those vacations were not filled with days of swimming in crystal clear water and hiking amid the beautiful scenery. They involved sitting in my uncle’s flat in Athens listening to my parents catch up with my relatives.

Crazy fun for a kid; let me tell you.

So when I plan trips with my kids, I try to include all of these great activities that they will enjoy just so they can have these great vacation memories…that they won’t remember anyway!

So screw it. No more planning “teen friendly” vacations. No more working around their school and sports schedules. Besides, I can cut the cost of these vacations in half if I leave the two kids home.

And by 75% if I leave my husband at home.

But that’s a blog for another day…

10 Jul

I Left My Baby On a Train!

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, humor, kids, letting go, motherhood, parenting, train travel, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , .

Ok, I didn’t actually leave my baby on a train. It was my 13-year-old and I didn’t leave him anywhere; I put him on a commuter train heading for the safety of camp in the northern suburbs of Chicago.

Still, as the train pulled away from the station, it sure felt like I placed my newborn on the train and let him go.

It was like that Subaru commercial with the dad who is giving his car keys to his older daughter but instead of a mature teenager all he sees is a little girl in the driver’s seat.

What was I thinking??

Even my husband (he of the “let’s send our kids to summer camp for eight weeks and not have any communication with them” mindset) couldn’t believe that I let our son take the train! WTF?? I thought he would see this as a huge step toward independence.

It didn’t help that I kept replaying scenes from movies over and over in my head as I drove home from the train station.

Have you seen the movie, Source Code? The Jake Gyllenhaal movie where the northbound commuter train in Chicago explodes over and over again? Yes, that scene kept popping up.

Followed very closely by the scene from the movie, Unstoppable, where Chris Pine and Denzel Washington are desperately trying to stop a train from hurtling off the edge of the train tracks as it races toward a sharp bend in the tracks. (Clearly I have to stop watching late night television).

I fretted for a while, wondering if he actually made it to camp then realized, if there really was a problem, I would have gotten a call from the counselor who meets my son and his friend at the train every morning (or at least I would have seen something on the morning news, right?).

Then it hit me: what I was most afraid of when I put him on that train is not that he would end up as the victim of some crazy Hollywood movie plot; it was that he wouldn’t need me anymore.

The more independent my “baby” gets the less he will need me…and then he will be gone.

With my 17-year-old just a year away from leaving for college (and basically gone most of the time already) my youngest is the only one I have left to take care of (unless you count my husband and the dog and my 17-year-old when he is home, but you get the point).

Letting go of my 13-year-old means just that—letting go and not knowing what will happen or where he is or what he is doing. It’s scary…

…and, yet, surprisingly easy to get used to.

Let me explain.

The first couple of days I walked him down to the platform and admonished him to stay behind the yellow line. I waited for his friend to meet him but not for the train to actually show up (I watched for that from the bridge, out of his line of sight).

By the third day I found the walk down to the platform to be unnecessary. His friend will show up, I reasoned. Besides, it’s not like he wanted to sit and chat with me while we waited.

photo

He can’t get away fast enough

Day Four:

My alarm goes off at 6:45 am and my first thought is: why can’t he just ride his bike to the train?

What a difference four days make…

12 Jun

Parenting is Like Your Senior Year in High School

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, homework, humor, kids, motherhood, parenting, senioritis, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , .

Do you remember suffering from senioritis as a student: those final weeks when you couldn’t wait for high school/college/grad school to end so you could get on with the rest of your life?

I think I’m suffering from the parenting equivalent.

I know that unlike high school/college/grad school, the parenting gig doesn’t end (as my cousin once said to me “once you have kids you always have kids”) but the apathy that I have been feeling towards my parental duties is highly reminiscent of those days when I could not bring myself to finish another study guide or research paper.

Sure, eventually I would slog through the notes and the reviews and the essays in school, but I remember doing so with no enthusiasm and wondering when the drudgery would end.

Kinda how I feel about parenting right now.

I swear if I have to pack another lunch/drive another carpool/sign another form, I’ll lose my mind.

Which is why I have not been able to write a single blog about how I’ve sucked as a parent, because everything I’ve done kinda sucks.

The other day my 13-year-old’s dinner consisted of a Frappuccino from Starbucks, some Oreos and a large bag of Sun Chips (at least it was the veggie kind). He may have had a cheese stick, too, but I don’t remember…I was too busy reading People magazine.

I couldn’t even bring myself to yell at my 17-year-old for slacking off on his finals! He and his girlfriend were “studying” for physics and I heard a great deal of laughing. Laughing! Physics is not something to laugh about – unless you are on a roller coaster – and yet they were giggling and I knew that nothing was getting done. I could not muster up one “Have you learned anything yet??!!” because I was catching up on episodes of Lost.

The good news is, in school, if you succumb to the effects of senioritis there could be real consequences. A recent New York Times post listed the potential pitfalls of slacking off as a senior in high school: losing your spot, having to explain yourself to the administration or worse, losing a scholarship.

Thankfully, for me, the consequences of my slacking off are far less dire. First, my children are old enough so they really can fend for themselves. Eventually even my carb-loving youngest child would scramble an egg or eat some yogurt. Heck, he might even be motivated enough to get his brother to take him out to eat! And my oldest would eventually suck it up and do his homework, probably even more so because I’m not nagging him.

I also have a husband who helps pick up my slack, as long as it has nothing to do with talking to our kids about sex or telling our 17-year-old that he can’t have his girlfriend in his bedroom – at which point he will run away and is no help at all.

I assume this monotony will eventually end and be replaced with exciting parenting duties like driving to-and-from camp and planning college visits. Until then I will stock the fridge with heat-and-serve dinners and take the lock off my older son’s door. And, finish watching Lost. I only have four more seasons to go…

19 Apr

Go Away*

Posted by I suck as a parent in family, humor, kids, motherhood, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , .

“I can’t wait to go to college!” my 17-year-old proclaimed.

Finally, I thought. I was so excited that I completely ignored the fact that he finished the sentence with: “…so I can get away from YOU!”

All I heard was HE CAN’T WAIT TO GO TO COLLEGE!

Whatever the driving force may be, I don’t care – he wants to leave!

I was worried for a while that I was making his life too easy and he would never want to go to college. He doesn’t need to set an alarm clock because I happily (?!) climb up and down the stairs every morning for at least a half-an-hour begging him to get out of bed. He’s never had to make his own dinner (if food is not prepared he’ll graze until he can get the car keys and go out to eat); and his sheets and clothes are (surprise!) always clean when he needs them.

Why would he want to leave?? (And more importantly, what is wrong with me??)

I know most adults would never leave a place where they are catered to, waited on and downright worshipped, so why would a teen?

But I have finally hit on the best way to get your kids to leave: annoy them, harass them, remove their bedroom door if you have to, whatever it is just do it and let them move out.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my kids. But I really, really, really want them to go to college – preferably a college that requires a 3-4 hour plane ride from home. Of course I will miss them but I will see them again – there are lots of breaks from school where they can come home, sleep late, visit their friends and borrow our car. Breaks that are just long enough to remind me that I want them to become productive members of society so they can move into their own homes and do their own laundry.

When we first started discussing college with our son, I didn’t really think that I would need to sell him on the idea of going away. It’s college! It’s freedom! It’s fun! But he just didn’t seem to grasp that.

We wanted to show him college students having fun (no, not playing beer pong or doing shots off of a co-eds belly) so we sent him to a college football game. Take my advice: If you are trying to sell your kid on the idea that college kids have SO MUCH FUN then don’t let him go to a football game on a rainy 43–degree day with his dad, uncle and grandfather and make him sit in the stands until the end of the game even though the final score is 83-10.

He won’t even look at a Big 10 school now.

We tried other tactics like stopping at a college that “just happened to be on our way” to our destination and scheduling college visits with his friends but nothing motivated him…until we demanded that he give up his phone at 11:00 pm every night.

Now he can’t wait to get away. Who knew?

I have to wield this new power wisely though. I don’t want to tighten our rules so much that we find him climbing out the window in the middle of the night to flee from the tyranny. No, I will pull out the demands only when I find him getting a little too comfortable in our home like when he plops himself on a stool at the counter and says “breakfast,” or when he’s out of clothes and asks me when I’m going to finish his laundry.

Then all bets are off…

 

*I’ve been holding on to this piece for the past couple of days because it seemed contrary to what I was feeling since the bombing incidents in Boston. This blog post is about wanting my kid to “Go Away” but on Monday I was prepared to have both of my kids live with me forever if it meant I could protect them from random acts of violence. But with a few day’s distance I remembered that no matter where my kids are I will worry about them. It doesn’t matter if they are running down the stairs too quickly at home or driving home from college, I will worry. If I tried to protect them from everything I wouldn’t allow them to go to the movies or a shopping mall without me and they wouldn’t be allowed to participate in largely populated events, teach children in elementary schools or even attend college. And those are only the events of the past year and a half. And so, it is with that in mind, that I can say my kid will leave home and I will worry but it is the way it’s supposed to be.

10 Mar

Happy Birthday to Me?

Posted by I suck as a parent in children, family, humor, kids, motherhood, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , .

Yesterday was my older son’s 17th birthday and I spent the day shopping…for me.

I hadn’t picked out a gift for my son yet and yes, it was on my mind as I lunched with a couple of friends and meandered through over-priced niche stores, but it didn’t stop me from shopping for me. And why would it?

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made to me that I should be getting gifts for bringing life to my child. Why wasn’t my husband buying me presents to thank me for giving birth to—and raising—his oldest child? Sure, he did that after our son was born but why stop there??

And grandparents? Where were my gifts?  Shouldn’t they be showering me with gifts as well? My contribution to this endeavor has brought them 17 years of joy beyond anything they could possibly have imagined and yet, I have never been appropriately thanked…with presents, that is.

The day didn’t start out as a shopping trip for me. As I set out in the morning I was actually a bit obsessed with finding my kid the perfect gift (especially since the day was upon us and I was empty-handed).

But when I found myself at the perfume counter at Barney’s, I knew I was no longer shopping for him. Yes, I made a good showing of trying to find him some after-shave but Barney’s doesn’t carry Axe and I wasn’t really going to spend fifty bucks on aftershave for a 17-year-old.

I’m not suggesting that you skip your child’s birthday celebration and make it all about you. No, your kid should have gifts and cake and celebrate with friends and family.

But raising kids is a thankless job—we’ve all heard that before—and it doesn’t really have to be. If no one is going to thank you why not give yourself a little treat on your child’s birthday. Why not spend the afternoon celebrating with friends – preferably at a nice lunch followed by a Sprinkles Chai Latte cupcake?

It really doesn’t have to cost anything, though. It could simply be the gift of time: time to read a book, or take a nap or go for a walk…but new perfume doesn’t hurt either.

27 Feb

Beyond the Ivy

Posted by I suck as a parent in Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , .

I live in a highly competitive town; the kind of town that is populated by over-educated, type-A parents who breed over-educated, highly competitive, type-A kids. Why, you may ask, do I live here? Well, when your kids are little and you are looking for a house you are easily swayed by a nice, safe community and blue ribbon schools. What you don’t realize though, is that while you intend to read Goodnight Moon and Polar Bear, Polar Bear to your kids, your neighbor will be reading Anna Karenina and War and Peace to his kids…in Russian.

Little by little though (when it’s too late to uproot your family) you start to see the signs: your kid can’t play competitive baseball past the age of 9 unless he can make the travel team (and if he can’t make the travel team then it’s time to pick a new sport); your daughter can’t get the lead in the community play and play soccer at the same time because only serious actors need apply for the leads; and don’t even think about having a child who wants to play an instrument in high school and explore another subject as an elective.

Although we managed to avoid most of that stress for the first 15 years of our oldest child’s life nothing prepared me for the ultimate competition…the college search.

My 16-year-old attends a public high school with over 4000 kids—1100 of them are juniors like he is—and apparently every single one of those juniors is going to an Ivy League University.

That’s right!

According to every parent that I run into his/her child is being courted by or committed to an Ivy! And they are only juniors!

Ok. Clearly many (not all) of them are full of shit but it still makes me feel like I’ve failed miserably at something. I want to pretend that my son is going to Princeton too!

It’s hard not to get caught up in the frenzy when you are surrounded by parents who are masters of the “humble brag”:

Poor Muffy! I don’t know how she is going to choose between Yale or Harvard. I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes!

Or

Did your son hear from Northwestern and Duke yet? Our mailbox is bursting with catalogs and letters from them. I figure everyone is hearing from them, right? It couldn’t just be my son, could it??

When I first heard about that kid being inundated with college mail I started to panic. Sure, my son was getting emails and brochures from schools but we weren’t buried in mail!

Then a friend pointed out that my son probably didn’t check the box on the ACT application that allows schools to send him materials.

It took everything in me not to find his login and check that damn box. Who knows what schools would send him brochures?! Then I would feel wanted!

Uhm, did I say I? I meant he. He will feel wanted. That’s right – this has nothing whatsoever to do with me.

And just like that I get sucked into this ugly place where I start to feel bad about my kid’s prospects even though he is doing really well.

When I am able to step off the habitrail of college craziness, I realize that I don’t actually care that my son is not looking at an Ivy League school. Contrary to what my neighbors say not everyone will attend a top tier school nor should they. It reminds me of something that author and psychologist, Madeline Levine said in the documentary, “Race to Nowhere.” I’m paraphrasing here but she pointed out that when we were growing up (I’m speaking as a 40-something here) we knew that some kids would go to Harvard…now everyone thinks they are.

My son would not thrive at a highly rigorous university—for a dozen reasons (and no, I’m not trying to rationalize anything). My oldest is not an academic. He does not love to study. You will never catch him researching some random topic or reading the encyclopedia for fun (yes, that is what I used to do and yes, I am a total dork). But sometimes you realize that your kid is not you and they have other tremendous skills that are worth encouraging.

For instance, my oldest is highly adept at bringing disparate groups of people together and creating amazing connections between people. And—in what I view as his greatest skill—he has an uncanny ability to get other people to do things for him. Just the other day I told him that he couldn’t go out until he shoveled our sidewalks. Fifteen minutes later two of his friends showed up at our door with shovels in hand and helped him clear the snow.

I guarantee they can’t teach that in college. Ivy League schools be damned.

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