Posts Tagged ‘children’

Is it Wine O’clock Yet? Awesomesauce!

Every year the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) adds new words to its online dictionary. This year’s crop was very exciting for me because the word “hangry” (meaning, “bad tempered or irritable because of hunger”) made the cut and, about four years ago I used that word in a piece called, Feeding the Hangry.

Four years ago! I was so ahead of the curve on that one!

I immediately told my kids how cool I am.

Never one to allow me to bask in my coolness, my younger son informed me that other cool words also made the cut, like “rando,” as in “a person one does not know, especially one regarded as odd, suspicious, or engaging in socially inappropriate behavior,” and “mkay” as in “to invite agreement, approval, or confirmation,” (in other words, “okay” spelled with an “m” instead of an “o”). Then there was “beer-o’clock” as in the right time to start drinking beer and “melty” because, apparently, melted is too difficult to write.

Not only did I not feel cool anymore but, I started to become very worried about my children’s use of the English language in the future.

I’m all for making up words. In fact, it’s one of my favorite things to do as I get older and I can’t remember words when I’m speaking. Just the other day, for instance, I suffered from a total brain fart. I couldn’t remember the words: real estate broker. So I went with “thepersonwhoputsyourhouseonthemarketwhenyouaretryingtosellit.”

Thankfully most of my friends also suffer from “old age brain” as well (see what I did there? I coined a phrase) so everyone can figure out what I’m talking about or at least not make fun of my new words.

But sometimes, made up words should have a short shelf life. Unfortunately with the advent of the Internet (one of 1974’s new words) new words crop up often and get passed around and, unfortunately, they never seem to die.

Don’t get me wrong. I understand the need for new words. Before text-messaging evolved in the 1980s there was no need for a word that described sending a message via text. Hence the need for a new word. Similarly, Goldendoodle dogs didn’t exist until the 2000s so that’s when the definition of Goldendoodle became relevant. Once they became a breed they were given a name.

Those words actually refer to something specific and definable. The word “fur-baby,” as in “a furry pet,” is neither specific nor definable. Call it your dog or your cat or your hamster. Or, call it your fur-baby. But does that word really have to be included in an archive of current English usage like the OED?

Well, yes.

According to the Oxford Dictionary website it does. It is also one of the top 5 most popular words in the U.S. as of today.

Right up there with:

-Awesomesauce

-Swole

-Butthurt and, my favorite,

unthaw – which now has a new meaning. The new definition as set out in the OED does not mean to freeze something. It now means to thaw. So, what’s with the “un” which means to negate?

At this point I don’t even know if I’m using real words in this post.

The interesting thing is that the tag line for the Oxford Dictionary’s webpage is: Language Matters. I assume that means that they are discussing matters of language instead of trying to tell us that the language we use makes a difference, because, if that is the case, then the word “swole” should not be a word. You know why? Because we already have the words, “swell” and “swollen.” SWOLE IS NOT A WORD!

But, apparently it is.

Rly!

In fact, it has, according to the peeps over at OED, been used so much as to demonstrate “continued historical use.”

WTF!

According to Fiona McPherson, senior editor of the OED’s new words group, in an interview with The Telegraph, new words are only added to oxforddictionaries.com after they “have been around for a reasonable amount of time and are in common use.”

Which means that enough people in the world have been using the term “cat café” (“a cafe or similar establishment where people pay to interact with cats housed on the premises”) to warrant the term’s inclusion in the dictionary.

Now do you understand why I am worried for my children and my children’s children??

Thankfully, words do fall out of fashion. For instance, the 1950s brought us the words aerospace, brainwash, artificial intelligence, do-it-yourself, and decaf but it also brought “Nowheresville” and “noshery.” Similarly, the 1990s gave us emoticon, gastropub, carjacking, and World Wide Web but also gave us “geeksville” and “poptastic.”

So there may be hope…or not.

Ms. McPherson believes that including slang words like “bants” (to banter) and “weak sauce” (“something that is of a poor or disappointing standard or quality”) isn’t “really about dumbing down, it’s more creative ways that people are using language.”

Great, next year all of our words will be creatively missing vowels.

NBD, rght?

What Do You Do With 40-Year-Old Baby Teeth??

Why do we parents save our kids’ childhood mementos? Are we saving it all so we can occasionally rummage through the boxes and reminisce or do we plan to give it all to our children when they are older?

If you agree with the latter, consider this scenario:

Many, many years in the future you hand your grown daughter a box of her lovingly preserved childhood mementos. You await for what is sure to be a squeal of delight as she sifts through the treasures.

Then she screams and slams the box shut.

“Ew! Are those my baby teeth?!” she yells. “That is so creepy! Why would you keep those and why would you think I would want them??”

Hmm. Not quite the reaction you were expecting.

Quickly, you rip the box from her hands before she can see her umbilical cord encased in plexiglass. Clearly she won’t appreciate that either.

A friend of mine recently relayed a similar story to me (thankfully, without the preserved umbilical cord bit) after her father handed her an envelope that contained her 45-year-old baby teeth. This naturally got me thinking, if we are preserving out kids’ keepsakes for them, shouldn’t we put more thought into what they may actually want to see in 40+ years?

With that, I decided to purge my home of random crap, I mean, mementos. I sorted through all of it with an “everything I am saving for my kids may eventually become theirs” lens because really, will my kids ever want this:

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or this:

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During my purge I came across some gems that I am certain my kids will NEVER miss after I toss them out:

A newborn diaper (unused, of course, although I bet someone, somewhere saved a used one). I must have kept it to show that my kid was—surprise—once the size of a newborn.

27 toddler size shirts (yes, 27!). I’m sure that when I shoved those clothes in a corner of my closet 10 or 15 years ago the memory of my boys in those particular shirts was probably too strong to let me part with the clothes. Now I have no idea who wore what.

Results for standardized tests from grades 4-8. WTF was I thinking? Did I think they would need them to apply to college??

Two musical recorders from 4th grade. I didn’t like hearing them play the recorder in 4th grade why would I want to hear it ever again?

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Report cards from kindergarten through high school. Ok. I’ll admit, I got distracted sifting through the earlier report cards because, let’s face it, no teacher will ever again tell me, “Your child is a gift!” or “He brought a smile to my face every day!” Those reports I kept, the rest got recycled.

Artwork. As much as my husband would have liked, I did not take photos of all of our kids’ artwork to eventually be made into an album. I am still working on assembling the first year of my 19-year-old’s baby book so clearly I am not an album maker and, for the record, neither is my husband. Besides, how many of these can I look at:

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Now, I’m not a total ogre. There are definitely many things (too many things) that I will hold on to whether my kids want them or not: photos, playbills from performances, newspaper clippings, a lock of their hair, handmade cards they wrote that still make me a little teary, their beloved books, and, of course, some old toys.

I will NOT toss out all of their toys.

My mom gave away all of my Barbie dolls and accessories when I left for college and I was devastated! In her defense, my parents were moving and I hadn’t touched them in years, but I didn’t care. At the time, I wailed dramatically about how all of my childhood memories had been taken away and what if I had a daughter who would want those toys and blah, blah, blah. The reality was that the one Barbie I did manage to salvage was gleefully dismembered by my boys within minutes but still…

So, just in case my boys hold some deep, perhaps irrational attachment to more than just the few stuffed animals, Lego creations, Thomas the Tank Engine trains and Matchbox cars I’ve decided to keep, I let them sift through the piles of stuff I was preparing to toss and asked what they wanted to save. Surprisingly they wanted nothing, especially not their teeth. “My baby teeth??” my youngest asked. “Why? That’s so creepy!”

Go figure.

What out of the ordinary childhood mementos have you kept for your kids?

When I Grow Up I Want To Be…

When you were little did you know what you wanted to be when you grew up?

I mean really know? And, more importantly, is that what you became?

I wanted to be, among other things, an investigative reporter, a flight attendant, a ballerina, a meteorologist (not the “weather girl” on the news, but the person who actually predicted the weather – as if that’s a real job!), a lawyer, and tall.

At least I got to be a lawyer.

I can honestly say, though, that with all of my potential careers I never once contemplated the path to get there. I just thought that I would go to college – because that was what I was supposed to do – and then I would find a job – because that’s what I was supposed to do. I moved through my education believing that I would find a job somewhere, doing something, even if it wasn’t the perfect job because that’s what we were supposed to do.

Even when I started law school I never contemplated the possibility that I wouldn’t find work after graduation.

Yes, I was young and stupid and a couple of months before law school graduation—when I still didn’t have a job—I realized my naivete.

I’m so glad it took that long.

As a freshman in college I never once thought I better not switch my major from business to journalism because I’ll never get a job. If I really thought about the lack of job prospects in college and law school I would have been paralyzed.

Enter my 19-year-old.

He recently returned home from his freshman year in college with a lot of angst about his major. He didn’t like his biology classes as much as he thought he would but he didn’t want to switch majors because he thought this was a good path to get a job.

Who is this kid??

My husband and I have never told our kid that he should set his sights on a “practical” major (although my husband has suggested that he take some business classes but my son is like me and just hearing the words “Accounting 101” puts him to sleep).

Now, I know that taking some business classes can’t hurt but the Liberal Arts student in me sees as much value in a writing class or an improv class as Stats or Econ.

It’s a good thing my kid is thinking about his future but I don’t want him to stress out about finding “his thing” at 19. That’s what he said, “Science is my thing. What else will I do?”

A thing??

I didn’t realize you were suppose to have “a thing” as a freshman in college. When I started college I thought college was the time to figure out your thing, and also meet people and be inspired.

I started college as a business major because I thought it was a practical choice. I think I was two weeks into business ethics and accounting when I jumped ship and switched to Liberal Arts and Sciences. I knew what my thing wasn’t: it wasn’t being an accountant or a marketing executive. I shared my experience with my kid and tried to explain to him that it is just as important to know what you don’t like as it is to know what you do like.

Yes, I know that the current job market sucks and college is very expensive so taking random classes with no definable path is not always prudent. But I don’t want my kid to keep taking classes in a field he is not interested in on the off chance that he might get a job in a field he has no interest in. Chances are that he will end up getting a job in a different field entirely and what a waste of time and money.

But that’s just me.

When I was in college there were definitely people who knew exactly what they were going to do with their lives and they did it. My brother was always going to be a doctor and he is. But I also know an English major who wanted to write the next Great American Novel but started a hedge fund instead, a music major who went into medical sales instead of cutting a record, and an education major who started a yoga studio. They are all very successful and extremely happy with their choices. They also have great skills, interesting hobbies and maybe even a new chapter waiting for them when they grow up.

As for me, I still don’t know what, or who, I want to be when I grow up – right now it’s a toss up between Emily Blunt and Emma Stone.

I have a better chance of being tall but I’m keeping my options open.

What about you? What did your career path look like?

The Too Much Information Age of Parenting

 

My mom and dad had it easy. There was no pressure to parent the right way – everyone did it wrong. At least by today’s standards.

Kids roamed the streets unattended, parents left kids home alone and made them prepare their own meals (Salisbury Steak anyone?) and most importantly, kids didn’t tell their parents what they were really doing so parents didn’t really know – and they liked it.

I miss those days.

Now, with technology, we parents expect that we will know where our kids are at all times. I don’t know how many times I’ve texted my kid, “Where r u?” and been frustrated that I didn’t get an immediate response. If he didn’t have a phone I probably wouldn’t ask. But he does, so I want an answer. Now.

Our parents knew we were out – whatever “out” meant. They knew that we would eventually come home; usually at whatever time they told us to be home because that’s what we did. Now, my kids can’t keep track of the time even though they have a phone glued to their hands—a phone with an alarm. Which is why I need to text…

If my parents weren’t home then we were on our own. Even though my parents owned a restaurant I don’t remember warming up meals from the restaurant for dinner; I remember cooking something and by cooking I mean heating up a TV dinner that we ate on a TV table in front of the TV.

Now, if I haven’t prepared my kids a meal before I leave, I order in for them. I do this even though both of them are perfectly capable of cooking a real meal – they are 19 and 15 after all – or simply improvising (cereal or a peanut butter sandwich for dinner never killed anyone).

The biggest difference, however, between my parents’ generation and parents today is that we know so much about our children. We schedule their lives from the time they are very little until they leave for college. We plan their activities, schedule their “play dates,” over-volunteer in their classrooms so we can get to know the other kids and their equally over-involved parents. Because of this shift in the parenting culture we know everything our children are doing and thinking and saying.

That’s how they are raised. They are raised to share. Some share more than others – even in the same house—but, nonetheless, it is generally – at least by the time they are teenagers – too much information.

I’m kidding – sort of.

Do I really want to hear the funny story about my older son’s friends who were completely trashed at a party? Yes…and no. I’m glad he can share but all I’m thinking is maybe you shouldn’t be friends with those people.

And, do I really want to know about disagreements my kids have with their friends? Well, yes…and no. I’m glad I can be a sounding board but long after my kid has moved on, I will continue to not like that person on my son’s behalf FOREVER.

I can’t unknow it.

Maybe we are better off with our heads in the sand.

My parents didn’t know about these things. We didn’t talk to our parents about stuff back then – we talked to our friends or we didn’t talk. Our parents didn’t hang on every word we said, they didn’t micro-manage our lives and, most importantly, they didn’t want to.

My parents, for instance, didn’t know when I stopped talking to my best friend of 10 years. Or, maybe they noticed but we didn’t chat about it. My mom didn’t ask me what happened or how I felt about it. I would have been mortified if she did!

But now, if one of my kids suddenly stopped hanging out with someone they had been BFFs with for 10 years I would notice and ask them what happened and, my kids, being part of this generation of over-sharers, would tell me. Then, long after my child had moved on, I would continue to obsess about the potential scar that the break in the friendship may have caused.

See, my parents had it easy. What they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them (or make them obsess or hold a grudge).

But, me? I’m screwed. I’ve already trained my kids to share with me and I’m certainly not going to tell them that I don’t want to hear what they have to say because I do…and I couldn’t stop myself if I tried because once you know about these things, you know. You know?

 

Do you know too much about your kids? Do you wish you didn’t??

 

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What I Have Learned After Nearly 19 Years of Parenting

Usually, after 19 years on a job, you begin to feel pretty competent. You move through your daily routine with some sense of mastery, some confidence in your abilities. Even if there is a little hiccup in your daily schedule you know, from years of experience, that you can figure it out.

And then there is parenting.

No matter how many years you are a parent you never really know what you are doing. How can you if the job description changes every day – ok, every minute – and the other people you work with don’t follow the rules??

I didn’t realize how little I’ve learned over nearly two decades until I was surrounded by new-ish parents who thought that I had a handle on this parenting gig.

Ha!

To their credit no one asked me any specific questions but they did sigh longingly when they said that it must be easier now that my kids can take care of themselves and I can sleep through the night.

Again, ha!

I didn’t burst that bubble, though (FYI: teenagers do not take care of themselves and what parent of a teenager actually gets sleep??). I figured that these young mothers didn’t need to worry about the teen years while they are chasing their toddlers around Starbucks and tending to screaming infants.

It did make me realize, however, that there are a few things I’ve picked up along the way. I wrote them down as proof that at this moment* I think I’ve learned something.

  1. Your kids are listening even when you think they aren’t. I’m not talking about eavesdropping (although they tend to do that as well so you have to be careful when you are talking on the phone). No, I’m talking about those times when you are doling out unsolicited advice about dating or drinking or you are nagging them to do work instead of playing video games. One day they will see the value in your advice and they may even thank you. Maybe. But don’t hold your breath for their thanks.
  2. It’s ok to apologize. You will make mistakes…all the time. It’s healthy for your kids to see that you are not perfect and that you are human. This doesn’t mean that you should keep making the same mistake every day and keep apologizing for it, but, if you make a bad call, yell when you are having a bad day or give crappy advice – apologize and talk about it.
  3. Yelling doesn’t help.
  4. Humor is so important. My boys and I have so many silly inside jokes that make us crack up all the time. I love those moments and I love that connection. My boys may shake their heads when I make up a song about the dog or when I think I’m being “punny” but I see them smile occasionally. I hope those moments outweigh all of the times I nagged them about their homework.
  5. They will dislike you at times especially when you enforce a rule that pisses them off – like taking away a phone when they forgot to call home or not letting them go out when they break curfew. They will get over it. As long as my responses to their infractions are reasonable I can walk away and know that I’ve done my job. Every now and then I say things like, I am taking away all of your electronics for three months because you were 5 minutes late! That’s when an apology and, sometimes, a sense of humor come in handy.
  6. Family time is sacred. Whether it’s dinner or breakfast or a family movie night, shared family experiences are glue.
  7. Take lots of pictures, write things down, make a video. Not of every moment because some moments are definitely worth simply sinking into, but, know this: you will not remember everything. No matter how many times you think, I will never forget this moment, you will. And, the pictures, notes, videos are as much for your kids as they are for you.
  8. Let them fail – often. You’ve probably heard this a lot by now but failing is not the new “f” word. I am so guilty of trying to save my kids. Trying to protect them from every contingency, every physical scrape, every emotional let down. I dole out advice, say no to seemingly dangerous activities and guess what? Even as I’m running interference for them, they’ve suffered injuries and set backs – and that’s ok.
  9. They need you as much when they are 19 as they do when they are 2.
  10. They love you even when you suck as a parent.

 

*This is subject to change at any moment.

 

How about you? What have you learned from #parenting?

 

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10 Signs That You Are An Overprotective Parent (according to my 14-year-old)

My younger son and I had a little spat the other day because I would not let him have a sleepover.

My reason?

He has been sick since mid-December with a stomach virus, the flu, strep throat and most recently, a sinus infection that put him on a second 10-day course of antibiotics that he finished just three days before the requested sleep over. I made the crazy (to him) statement that I wanted him to get some rest so he could recover from this string of illnesses.

His response? “You are so overprotective! People get sick. Who cares?!”

He’s right, people do get sick but sleeping does help them recover. (Besides, I HATE sleepovers but that wasn’t part of my argument at the time).

He’s also correct that I am overprotective…ish. In my defense, I pointed out that I was willing to let him go to Italy this summer as part of his Latin class. “That seems sort of reckless if you think about it,” I told him.

He scoffed. “The only reason you agreed to let me go is because you knew that my classmates’ parents would say no,” he told me. “You knew I wouldn’t want to go without my friends.”

We will never know because, of course, as I knew, his classmates’ parents said no.

See, where my oldest is a little more cautious my youngest leaps before he looks. So, I have to say things like, “Can you not run down the ice-covered sidewalk? It’s a little slippery after the ice storm.”

Does that mean I’m overprotective or is it my job to warn my accident-prone son of the dangers that he would never notice until it was too late and we were in the ER…again.

Mind you, this is the kid who, among other things ran into a pole (those big cement things that don’t move) when he was younger and required multiple stitches, hurt his tailbone by taking a jump with a sled on a pile of icy rocks, and slammed his knee into a metal pipe trying to jump over a series of metal pipes.

I know, I know. Boys will be boys, but does that mean I’m overly cautious when I suggest that maybe he NOT ski straight down a mountain.

Well, according to my 14-year-old I am.

Here are 10 more examples of things that I’ve said that my youngest found unreasonable, restrictive and just plain no fun. I call them parenting decisions; he calls them torture:

  1. I told him he couldn’t have a motorized mini-bike when he was 10-years-old because he would drive it on the street and it can fit under a car and, well, he was 10 (have you seen what can happen with those things??);

  1. I made him wear a bike helmet;
  2. I had to be allowed to “friend.” “like,” and “follow” him on all of his social media accounts (and, yes, I know that he might have other accounts I don’t know about but his brother does…);
  3. I say crazy things like, “Be careful!” and “Don’t do anything stupid,” when he is engaging in any activity that could result in bodily injury and/or death like skiing, climbing a tree, or being a boy;
  4. I talk to him about the dangers of drug addiction, alcohol abuse and unprotected sex – often – and usually over his very loud objections about discussing this topic with his mom;
  5. I told him – all 5′ 5″ and 115 pounds of him – that he could not tryout to be the kicker for the high school football team (did I mention that he is only 115 pounds?!);
  6. I don’t let him drink coffee before bed (yes, he’s asked);
  7. I make him eat things like fish and vegetables because they are good for him;
  8. I make him set his social media accounts to private so strangers can’t access them and I tell him not to share his passwords with anyone even when he insists that no one he knows would do anything stupid like log on to his accounts and post inappropriate things;

And the most ridiculous thing that I make him do?

  1. I make him tell me where he is going and (gasp!) who he is going to be with!

I don’t know how he stands it.

 

What do you think? Am I overprotective? Are you?

 

 

 

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The First Child Experiment

Our poor first-born children.

We parents have no idea how little we know about parenting our oldest child until our subsequent children go through a similar experience. Only then can we look back and say to ourselves, damn, I screwed that up!

First-time parents move through parenthood blindly, figuring things out on the fly because no matter how much experience you may have had with someone else’s kids in the past, you still have no idea what you are doing with your child. You are positive that everything that you do to your child or for your child will have lasting repercussions. Because, let’s face it, that whole nature vs. nurture thing simply means that if your DNA doesn’t screw them up your parenting skills will.

A friend of mine recently joked that she hopes that her oldest daughter recognizes that she is a parenting experiment.

I think her analogy is spot on.

With no roadmap and no instruction manual, most first time parents approach everything they do to their first child like a science experiment even if they don’t realize they are doing it.

Let’s use potty training as an example.

Step 1: Ask a Question

The first step when conducting any scientific experiment is to ask a question. In this case a good question would be: “Will my two-year-old child ever be potty trained or will he be in diapers in college?”

Step 2: Do Background Research

Pour over every parenting book, website and magazine to figure out if it is indeed possible to have a child who refuses to be potty trained and ends up wearing diapers in college.

Step 3: Construct a Hypothesis

In this example your hypothesis could be: “If I buy my child super hero underwear, he will be so excited he will then want to use the potty and never use diapers again.”

Steps 4 and Beyond: Test Your Hypothesis

You test your hypothesis, which, of course, fails miserably because as first time parents you don’t yet know that toddlers are stubborn and refuse to do anything that you want them to do, so, you continue to reformulate and retest your hypotheses until you make your child cry which, in turn, makes you cry and so on and so on and so on until eventually you figure it out.

And then your next kid comes along and it’s SO MUCH EASIER!

Why?

It’s not because the second child is less difficult; it’s because you are.

With your second child you know that any fear you have that your child will go to college in diapers is absurd! And, although you may need to tweak your approach with each kid to get the same result (each kid is different after all), without the anxiety of the unknown hanging over you, the process is so much easier.

You would think that once we recognize this pattern we would find a way to speed up the learning curve…but we can’t. Every stage of our first-born child’s life presents some new scenario that we are ill prepared to handle: school, friendships, driving, dating, college, etc.

Everything our first child does is, well, first, which makes everything they do novel, scary, and very, very important.

I was reminded of this again over the weekend when I attended a cocktail party for the parents’ of my younger son’s high school freshmen class. I spoke with several parents who had just survived their oldest child’s first set of high school finals. Every one of these parents had some version of the same story: they had to force their kid to study because their kid wouldn’t get organized or study long enough or care enough: the parent’s anger would grow until eventually the parent exploded; and every one of these parents believed that their child’s failure to comprehend the importance of final exams and their general lack of motivation meant that they would never graduate from high school, attend college, get a job and move out of the house.

“Shit,” I thought. “That’s how I sounded four years ago!”

“If you don’t study, you will fail and you will end up living in my basement!” was my mantra during my older son’s finals.

This time around with my youngest who just completed his first set of finals I took a laissez-faire approach: I did not yell when his focus drifted from his studying, I did not yell when I saw his grades, and I did not yell when he said, “I should have studied more.”

My mantra this time around, as it has been with everything for my second child, was “This too shall pass.”

Because it does…

…unless, of course, it’s your older child facing some new experience, in which case see Steps 1-4 above.

Word

I’m not a big fan of New Year’s resolutions – I mean, I make them; I’m just not a fan of keeping them.

I know this and yet I can’t stop myself from making a list of resolutions every year. I always believe that I will make some changes but I, like most people, usually make it to January 2 before throwing in the towel.

This year, however, I am jumping on the “One Word” bandwagon.

A one-word resolution is the new thing. Instead of a weighty list of shoulds and should nots you are supposed to pick one word that will guide your life in the New Year: a touchstone for you to return to as you make your way through the year.

I thought it would be easy but it wasn’t, at least not at first. I tossed around words like gratitude and peace and love but nothing felt right. All the words felt forced and not really me.

That’s when I came up with my new two-pronged approach to help determine my New Year’s word.

It goes like this:

Step 1: Think of one word that summed up everything you did wrong in 2014.

Were you ungrateful or impatient or unsupportive?

The words that came to mind for me were grumpy, tense and unreasonable but what I really meant was bitchy. Yes, the word that sums up how I feel that I acted this year was “bitchy.”

Step 2: Add the prefix “non” before your word to come up with your guiding principle for 2015.

So, in this case my word for 2015 is “non-bitchy.”

Simple.

This works for all sorts of words: non-impatient; non-tense; non-workaholic…

Not always grammatically correct but you get the gist.

Now it’s your turn – what’s your word going to be?

 

 

 

A Holiday Miracle

The Thanksgiving season is usually not considered the time of miracles and yet something miraculous happened yesterday. Not the miracle of weeping icons or spontaneous healing, mind you, but miraculous just the same.

Let me back up.

My 18-year-old, college freshman came home for Thanksgiving break last night and within 45 minutes our battle for control began.

And, no, the miracle is not that it didn’t happen sooner.

After several hugs for the dog, a couple quick hugs for me, and a discussion about laundry he disappeared into his room.

I was a little disappointed by his vanishing act but I figured a home cooked meal would lure him out. I was wrong. I spent 10 minutes trying to get him to join the family for dinner.

I was miffed. Shouldn’t he be thrilled to have real food?

When he finally came to the table, he brought his iPad with him.  I told him to put it away during dinner and he responded with the, “I can do whatever I want because I’ve been away at school and I do whatever I want there,” bullshit that every college kid says to his parents when he comes home for break.

I was even more miffed.

And, when I told him that I didn’t appreciate his attitude, he responded with “Whatever,” and a roll of his eyes.

That’s when I snapped.

I yelled, my 14-year-old left the table, and my husband sat in silence.

At that moment, I just wanted my oldest son to go back to school.

I thought I had prepared for this. I read all the articles and blog posts about how to deal with your kid when he returns home for school breaks – hell, I wrote an article – but it didn’t matter.

I didn’t want to spend a little bit of time with him. I wanted more.

I wanted him to want to spend time with us – well, me in particular. I wanted him to choose us over his friends and his electronics. I wanted him to say, “Let’s watch a movie together,” “Let’s play a board game,” or “Let’s go out for dinner – just the four of us!” All the books and articles told me those were unreasonable and unrealistic expectations, but I still wanted it!

Those parents of college students who say, “That’s how the visit home is supposed to be. I wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s healthy!” are full of it. Deep down, they are just as pissed as I am; they just want to act like they are superior parents who have this whole parenting gig down. Me? I don’t care what it looks like. I suck as a parent, remember?

I know I sound like an infant but watching my kid transition from child to independent adult (albeit one who still needs to borrow our car and doesn’t pay for insurance) is not easy. It’s really uncomfortable to have a child who one day can’t leave you alone and the next day doesn’t want anything to do with you. None of this is new; I’ve been dealing with this since my oldest became a teen but it’s always shocking to me and it makes me kind of sad…or mad depending on the day.

Yesterday, apparently, was a mad day.

But then, just as I was on the verge of destroying any chance of quality family time for the entire week, a holiday miracle occurred: the WiFi AND the television went out.

The iPad my son brought to the table? Useless.

The video games he wanted to play on the Xbox? Unavailable.

The TV shows he wanted to binge watch? Inaccessible.

Was this just a coincidence or did my shortening fuse cause our electronics to go out? Did I suddenly have some sort of power? After all, I have been called a witch before (although it probably wasn’t a literal reference).

It didn’t matter. Just like that, I had my kid’s undivided attention.

“Let’s play a board game,” he said.

A Thanksgiving miracle and, yes, I am grateful.

Wishing you and your families a very Happy Thanksgiving!

 

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Don’t Tell Me How To Do College!

“Don’t Tell Me How To Do College!” my 18-year-old son snapped the other day.

What?! That’s ridiculous! I thought. I’m not telling him how to do anything. I’m merely making suggestions. (Insistent suggestions, perhaps, but still…)

For instance, one Sunday during our weekly Face Time session he complained that he had so much work to do that night. I innocently asked if he had thought about doing some work earlier on the weekend or maybe even during the day on Thursday when he has a huge block of free time.

“I got it, Mom! I know what I’m doing!” he barked.

When I scoffed at his reaction and tried to explain that I was merely trying to make a suggestion he responded with his first, “Don’t tell me how to do college!”

Similar retorts have been made in response to my suggestions that he clean his bathroom more frequently (he shares the bathroom with three suite mates), that he go to Health Services before his cold gets worse (he didn’t), and most recently, in response to my suggestion that he attend more activities on his college campus.

That last one is still lingering between us.

He has made friends at school with a group of kids who grew up not too far from the college they attend. As such, they tend to hang out in the city (the school is near a metropolitan area) rather than on campus attending school events.

My son says he’s fine with this. Me? Not so much.

I should be content that he hangs out with a group of kids he really likes—friends who bring him food when he has the flu and can’t get out of bed—yet, somehow, I have decided that he needs to have more of a “college experience” and that includes taking advantage of everything that he has available on campus.

I know this is ridiculous and, no, I’m not trying to relive my college years through my kid. (Really!) I had a great time in college, as did my husband, and we both had very different experiences from each other and from our son. You would that think this evidence—this proof that a “college experience” is not one size fits all—would be enough for me to back off and let our son “do college” his way.

It’s not.

Again, I’m not telling him how to do anything I’m just offering some suggestions.

What’s wrong with that? Is there an age limit on offering unsolicited advice to your off-spring? Because if there is, my mother and my in-laws didn’t get the memo. Neither did my grandmother or my husband’s grandfather. I was 40 when my dad died and until the end he was giving me advice.

Now, I know that when I was my son’s age I would hear my parents (notice I didn’t say listen) and ignore them (for the most part). There may have been a couple of times I heeded their advice immediately but not often. They knew this and yet they didn’t stop adding their two cents.

That’s what parents do! They keep talking and hope that something sticks!

My kid could have lied and told me that he saw the nurse and he could tell me that he’s attending every activity on campus just to shut me up – but he doesn’t. He’s being honest with me and, not so subtly, telling me to back off.

This reminds me of the first time I tried indoor rock climbing. I was on the wall and there was an incredibly annoying woman in our group who kept yelling out where the hand and footholds were before I even had a chance to look for myself. The first time she offered her “help,” I looked down at her and politely said, “I got it!” The fourth time? I snapped. “I know what I’m doing!” I yelled. “If I want your help, I’ll ask for it!”

Now why would that memory pop up right now, I wonder?  If only I had someone to give me some advice…

 

 

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