Protect Our Children, Stop Keeping Score?

When I was a kid, Field Day was the Olympics of grade school. It was a day we looked forward to all year. It was our chance to win the coveted blue First-Place ribbon in kickball, sprints or the three-legged race.

It was my daughter’s fifth grade Field Day and I was in charge of the basketball throwing station. Adrenalin-filled voices echoed through the school yard, tickling my memories.

I instructed the kids, “Each team member gets one shot. The team with the highest score wins...”

A designer-clothes-wearing volunteer mom interrupted, “Oh no. We don’t keep score. Everybody’s a winner.”

Another Nosey-Nelly added, “She’s right. This is Field Day. This is supposed to be fun.”

What’s not fun about keeping score? These kids are ten; I think they can count. It’s mathematically and logically impossible for everyone to be a winner.

I said, “I tell you what, next year, you sign up to be Class Mom. Then you run field day however the hell you want. This year we’re keepin’ score.”

When did “Everybody’s-A-Winner” awards and “You-Participated” gold medals replace Fist-Place trophies? What are we teaching our children with these? Maybe an undeserved award will boost their self esteem. Maybe they can stare at the awards and pretend they don’t know who really won.

In the Newsweek article Winning Isn’t Everything…, Leslie Goldman writes, “But after a certain age, sports aren’t just about fun and games. They are a critical tool to teaching kids about discipline, hard work, and winning and losing.”

Life is unfair, but we can’t make it fair by pretending everyone’s a winner. We can make it fair by teaching our kids how to win gracefully and loose with dignity and find their special talent – that one thing that they want to achieve. We’re not all awarded the valedictorian title or presidential job, but we can all strive for it. In America, that’s called opportunity.

There’s much to be learned from losing and much to be learned from winning. I’m just not sure what’s learned from pretending we’re not competing.

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Contributing to the Delinquency of my Minors?

Some families play Monopoly, some play Chutes-n-Ladders. In my house the game of choice is Poker.  Texas Hold ‘Em.

To make it even more deplorable, we don’t play for silly prizes or trinkets. No way! We play for money, green hard cash. If the kids want to play, they know to bring their piggy banks because Mommy doesn’t bank roll their gambling.

Not everyone appreciates our love for Poker.  During family parties, my children are banned from the poker table.  Family members scold: “It’s inappropriate… You’re raising degenerates … Gambling leads to crime.” And my personal favorite, “What next?  Money laundering?”  But they’re scolding me while counting chips and peaking at their own poker hands.

Why do I let them play Poker? Because poker is our equalizer. It bridges the gap between our ages. My teens become people. We interact, laugh and talk. It works for us.

Why not play board games? I wish I liked board games. Really I do. But I’d rather stick hot burning embers in my eyes than play with paper money or dice. I hate board games and my kids can tell – they know when Mom’s bluffing ;-).

A well-known Harvard law professor Charles Nesson wants to teach kids the skills of life using poker. He says, “Though just a game, poker teaches survival skills and encourages the development of good instincts. A good poker player learns to size up the competition quickly and decide where potential risks lie."

Acquiring math and life skills is just a bonus. I spend a lot of my time teaching, lecturing, or punishing my kids. Poker allows me to just play with them.  Don’t worry, it’s not casino central every night. Here are other equalizers we’ve found:

• Cooking Channel – A compromise between their teen-trash and my chick flicks.
• Colombo DVD series –Colombo rocks and is good for ages 9 and up.
• Trampoline – Jumping on the trampoline reminds the kids that Mom’s not so old.
• Set – A card game that doesn’t include betting and bluffing. Yes, we have some!

I’m not saying Poker is the answer for you. And I’m not picketing the schools to get poker into the classrooms. I’m saying find what suits your family and don’t be afraid to look outside the norm.

What are your equalizers?

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Entrepreneur or Thief?

The Principal called me last night and said, “We have a big problem.”

She must have dialed the wrong number because my kids are perfect.  I said, “Really?”

“Your son is selling the use of his iPod.”
“Oh, that.”
“He was polite and honest when I confronted him. Did you know he's collected over $60?”
“I know. Pretty smart huh?”
The principal barked, “It’s against school policy.”

Wait a minute. What about your fundraisers? You gave my son wrapping paper and candles and sent him out like a traveling sales man. You enticed him with promises of a Super Grand Prize that he was convinced he’d win. Hmmm… I wonder where he got the idea it was okay to sell at school?

The principal continued, “We expect your son to return all of the money.”
“He didn’t bully anyone. He wasn’t charging for friendship. He was providing a service and they bought it. It’s an iPod, not crack.”
The principal said, “I’ll be contacting the parents of the other kids.”

Great. Let’s really punish those kids for participating in the foundation of our country’s economic system. Kids have been putting quarters in pinball machines for years. They get value and the owner of the pinball machine gets compensated. It’s called Capitalism. I agree my son should not be breaking any rules, but return the money?

“No problem. My son will bring back all of the money tomorrow.”

He’ll also be bringing in some wrapping paper and I’ll be expecting a $45 refund too. It’ll be a great lesson for my son about how the customer is always right and the duty of a business to provide refunds.

I wonder what the other kids will learn from this?

* Disclaimer for the lawyers: The conversation above is a representation of a real conversation.  My mind is not capable of recalling the exact words. I am in no way condoning breaking school rules, nor am I criticizing the actions of the principal. We all have our jobs and mine is to parent.

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Taming the Bully

CBSNewYork.com reports, “The Department of Education estimates as many as 160,000 children a day stay home from school because of the threat.”

There are all degrees of bullying and sometimes kids can even be bullied by adults. On her second week of First grade, I asked my daughter, “Why don’t you want to buy lunch at school anymore?”

She said, “’cause the Lunch Lady screams at me.”

Fighting back all instincts to race to school and kick some crotchety-ass, I said, “There’s only one thing we can do. Bake her cookies.”

We baked the cookies together and imagined why the Lunch Lady was so mean. Maybe she just had a hard life. Maybe she planned on retiring to Florida with her high school sweetheart, but he died before they ever made it out of New Jersey. Now she’s stuck making grilled-cheese sandwiches and mopping floors. Or maybe she just hates the way she looks in a hairnet. We don’t know her story.

My daughter packed the cookies into a brown lunch bag and wrote: To My Lunch Lady, Love Amanda.

She brought cookies to school and handed them over, reluctantly. The Lunch Lady didn’t even glance down. She screamed, “Move it!”

But when Amanda turned around to look at the beast she saw it.  It was so brief and subtle anyone else would have missed it completely. A wink and a smile. Lunch Lady never screamed at Amanda again.

Not only did my daughter tame the heart of the bologna-beast, she also learned a few life lessons:

• Don't be the victim
• You have more power than you think
• Love is much stronger than hatred
• Trust your Mommy

Not all bullies should be tamed. I teach my kids the first step is to tell someone.

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Don’t Judge the Bully

Even in our sweet little country town, there are bullies masquerading in clean-cut haircuts and Abercrombie polos. They can be found in the schoolyard, on the bus, and even in my neighborhood. They taunt, push, spit, steal seats and say stupid things like, “Nobody likes you,” and “You’re gay.”

In the Yahoo News article by Steven Nelson, New Jersey Governor Chris Christie signs ‘Anti-Bullying Bill of Rights’ into law, State Sen. Diane Allen said, “We cannot change human nature, we can change how government and school officials respond to unacceptable behavior.”

Bullies are not new. I remember watching them beat up the same kid every day. I didn't know what to do and I still regret not doing anything.  My kids will not regret.  I put together four simple rules for my kids to follow:

1. Don’t be The Bully. You can’t control others, but you can yourself. Joining a Bully makes you a Bully.
2. Help the underdog. You don’t have a choice. You must help. Even if you feel weird, even if it makes you unpopular, and even if you’re scared. Helping may be telling a teacher. Doing nothing makes you a Bully.
3. Never hit first. Always hit back. If someone lays their hands, feet or teeth on you, hit them back harder.
4. Never hit a girl, even if she’s The Bully. Let God take care of her punishment.

I tell my kids to think about what a terrible life The Bully must have. Maybe The Bully has a mean daddy who hits him every night. Maybe The Bully has a mean older brother, or a dying parent.

Don’t be The Bully , Don’t put up with The Bully and Don’t judge The Bully.

How do you teach your kids about bullying?

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Good Mommies Don’t Bribe Their Kids

I guess I’m a bad mommy, ‘cause bribing is rampant in our home.

A recent TIME cover story Should Kids Be Bribed to Do Well in School? by Amanda Ripley shows bribing may have merits.

"Money is not enough. (It never is.) But for some kids, it may be part of the solution. In the end, we all want our children to grow into self-motivated adults. The question is, How do we help them get there? And is it possible that at least for some kids, the road is paved not with stickers but with $20 bills?"

There are plenty of things my kids have to do “because I said so” like clean their rooms, take out the garbage and kiss me good night. But, there are other things they should have a choice about. They are, after all, human beings with free will. This is where my bribing comes in.

Here's some cash I've recently paid out:
$5 – to play with younger cousin
$2 – to smile for a picture
$10 – to pick up a dead mouse (I would have paid more)
$1 – to warm up the car
$3 – to taste zucchini
$20 – to get a crew cut
$50 – for straight A’s

Most of the time, we settle on a price.  But sometimes, like when I offered $10 and a Starbuck’s Hot Coco to take a picture on Santa’s lap, they just say no.

I think, if done properly, bribing has a place in a happy home. What do you think?

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Almost a Shoplifter

My teens and I went to Walmart to get some sleds. After picking out the coolest sleds we could find, we rounded the corner, and something made me stop.  It was a blue Tony Hawk stunt bike – classic, only $49 bucks, and the perfect size for my 9 year old nephew.

I called my sister. “Tami, I know we don’t do gifts for the kids, but there’s this bike.  I don’t know why, but I’m supposed to buy it.”

Tami said, “Well... Ryly’s bike was stolen out of the shed last week, and we don’t have the money to get him a new one.”

Hanging up the phone, I said, “Okay, kids, we’re getting that bike for Ryly.  He won't care that it’s the cheapest bike in Walmart.”

We took our treasure to the checkout counter, when it rang up at $124, I nearly choked. I said, “Can you double-check that price?”

“The bike is $124,” the clerk snapped. “The numbers don’t even match on that price tag.”

A line began to form behind me; impatient shoppers gave me the stink-eye. The checkout clerk called the supervisor, and together they discovered the $49.99 tag had been taken from some other item. Twenty minutes later, when the Supervisor rang for the Assistant Manager, I started to get scared.

Maybe they thought I was trying to steal the bike! The thought made me shiver. But the surveillance tapes will save me…Shit! The surveillance tapes! They’ll see my kids and me riding the bikes up and down the aisles! They’ll see us stopping at the accessory aisle to fill the tires with air!  They'll see...

My thoughts were interrupted when the Supervisor said, “What are we going to do?”
The Assistant Manager said, “We’re going to give them the bike for $49.99.”

And that’s how, my children learned the power of giving. I wish you could’ve seen my nephew riding his Tony Hawk stunt bike: no shoes, no jacket, all smiles.

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The Kids on the Bus Told Me...

Do you have a scrooge dragging down your holiday spirit? Or do you wish it was Halloween, so you could put on the witch costume? Are the radio stations, cranking out their Christmas tunes, making you feel like running your car into a tree? Or maybe buying DVDs, iPods and Kindles has you longing for simpler times, when parents gave gifts like sleds and bikes.

If so, maybe this story will bring you back to a trouble-free time in your life – a time when school was fun and spinach was disgusting. Think back to when your only worry was wondering if Santa got that letter you mailed him, and if he’d overlook that ball you chucked through the neighbor’s window. Remember? Remember waiting in line for your turn to tell the big guy that special gift you’d been wanting…since almost last Christmas, even?

My sister Randi was talking to her her eight year old son, Dean, and it went something like this:

Dean: “Mom, the kids on the bus told me there’s no such thing as Santa.”
Randi: “They don’t believe? Well, I feel sorry for them.”
Dean: “Mom. I’m not a little kid anymore, you know.”
Randi (fighting back tears): “I know. You’re a big boy.”
Dean: “You can't fool me.  I know the truth about Santa. All these Santas in the mall and on T.V. are fake.  The real Santa’s home making all the toys. Right, Ma?”
Randi: “Cant fool you, Deany.”

I found my Christmas spirit through the eyes of an eight year old. Where'd you find yours?

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I Wish Mom Wore a Bra

My son said to me, “Why do you always wear grey?”

I said, “Because I like to wear grey.”

When I was a kid, I wished my mom wore poodle skirts and sweater sets. I wished she wore a checkered apron and she served us home cooked meatloaf dinners. Hell, I wished she just wore a bra when she met my teachers.

Maybe my kids wish I were different. Maybe they wish I looked like the women in magazines. Like that girl who married Tom Cruise – she always looks put together. They should sign me up for “What Not to Wear” and I could show all the viewers just how inept I am at looking the way a woman should look. They’d cut my hair and buy me a hounds-tooth jacket with matching designer shoes and I’d look perfect. Right?

Probably. But I don’t want to look perfect. I’d rather feel perfect and I'd rather let my kids see the real me. The me that wears grey sweatshirts to parent-teacher conferences. The me that spells worse than a third grader. And the me that has worn the same hairstyle for the past twenty years.

Do I still wish my mom was different? Sometimes. I still wish she wore a bra more. But wearing her ripped jeans and second-hand specials, my mother taught me to ignore the judgment of others.

Do I wish I was different? Sometimes. But most of the time I’m quite happy to be me. Ripped jeans, t-shirt, and a no-name I-forgot-where-I-put-it pocketbook. And sometimes… when I want to… I break out the designer outfit and kick-it Vogue-style. Just for me.

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A special thanks to Judie - from Rogue Artists.  She graciously helped me break the block!  Go checkout her blog here.

What's She Thinking?

My daughter took this picture using the timer on her camera. She edited it with picnik.  How I wish I had the creativity of a child.  What's she thinking?  Only two weeks left of summer vacation.

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Jump off the Balcony

Got writers block? Jump.

Agents rejecting you? Jump.

Someone said your writing is rambling? Jump.

My kids are always jumping off our second floor balcony. Don’t ring up Social Services… they land on the couch.

Today I decided to try it myself. I climbed over the railing and stood on the edge. “I was a kid once. I used to do back flips off diving boards twice this high.”

The kids cheered, “Jump Mom,” and “You can do it,” followed by, “Don’t be scared.”

And you know what? I didn’t jump. Why? Because I’m forty-two-freakin’ years old. I hung my head and took the walk-of-shame down the stairs.  I complain all the time about wanting to have the exuberance of youth, yet when faced with an opportunity to feel the excitement, I held back.

It got me thinking. Where else in my life am I afraid?

I thought about my book. Because when you’re writing, everything pertains to the book, right? I thought about the never-ending editing cycle, the queries... the rejections.  And I am afraid.

Here are examples of how I stopped being afraid and started jumping:

I’ve got writer’s block.

I forced myself to finish my chapter. Here’s what I did:
- I put my pad and paper in a baggie and rowed myself up a river in a canoe.
- I asked my kids to write the ending. Kids have magical insight.
- I wrote naked.  I wrote while eating.  I wrote while cooking.
- I took a road trip. Pen and paper in my lap.
- I set the alarm for 3 A.M. to write. I wrote some incoherent stuff about root beer and went back to bed.
 
Someone said my writing is rambling.
I considered, for a moment, that my chapter was rambling. Scary thought.  I read that chapter over and over again. I forced friends to read it too. I read a book on writing skills.  I know. I know. I’m rambling.  Finally, I gave in.  I rewrote that damn chapter and it’s glorious.

"You'll never publish a memoir unless your famous." 
I submitted my memoir to ten more agents.

Sometimes when we’re standing at the edge,
we don’t need anyone to talk us down.

We just need a push.