Uncomfortable Honesty Redux

Just as I was congratulating myself for having recently helped to usher my daughter through a relational challenge with sensitivity and grace, basking in a sublime parenting moment, my son knocked the wind right out of my sails. Seems that he is not as impressed with my interpersonal skills as I am.

He returned home from an overnight at a friend’s house a little clipped, something I chalked up to his newfound conversational minimalism. But being the tuned-in, empathetic parent that I am I decided to ask if everything was okay. I waited for the affirmative grunt, but instead I got a “not really”. And then he launched into the why behind it. From sublime to humbled in about a minute and a half.

He started talking about his friend’s mom who is “so cool”. “I wish that we got along the way that they do.” He said. “She really gets him…” And then he trailed off. Ack! What? My son does not think I “get” him? No one tries harder to get their kids than me. He has no idea how lucky he is. My defensiveness mounted as swiftly as the sense of inadequacy welling up inside of me.

It didn’t surprise me that this newly touchy kid was irritated by somebody’s behavior around here, but I certainly didn’t expect it to be mine. Me? The tuned in, sensitive-to-your-every-mood mother? I resisted the urge to obsess about the unfairness of this and instead asked him to go on. And he did.

His friend’s mom knows that he’s a regular kid. His friend is allowed to have a Facebook page. He’s able to text, and his mom thinks it is just fine that he likes to go to parties. “Sometimes I don’t think you get that I’m not perfect. And I’m not just like her.” my son said, casting a glance at his sister, the one who wrote the manual on being a dutiful and high achieving firstborn. “I think that you expect me to be just like her.” He finished, offering me a window into his reality that both surprised and saddened me.

It is not true that I expect him to be like his sister. I don’t expect him to be like anybody. I have no problem with his more social nature. He’s a great kid. He has nice friends. He makes good choices. Why was he railing against concerns I didn’t even have.

He wants a Facebook page? He wants expanded texting privileges? He knows where we stand on those issues, but I’m willing to hear what he has to say. I always reserve the parental right to change my mind if the situation warrants it. But the problem did not seem to be as much one of substance as it was of perception. What we had here, to paraphrase Cool Hand Luke, was a failure to communicate. I wanted to blame my son, but in my heart I know that it takes two to tango. If only one of us thinks that we are communicating effectively then that one is wrong.

But at least we were talking. Talking about perceptions and misperceptions. Signals that I had been sending and signals that my son thought I was sending, though they bore no resemblance to anything I felt.

I reassured him that his father and I only want him to be himself, the best version of himself to be sure, but not some watered down facsimile of anybody else, not even his super achieving sister. Our family can barely handle one of her anyway. And while my son and I will never be just like his friend and his mother (great kid and great parent, respectively), or like any other two people for that matter, we could carve out our own best relationship. One based on honestly and trust and the willingness to really see and seek to understand each other.

I was rewarded at the end of the night with a big gruff hug and a whispered, “Love you, Mom”. So in the end I decided that while my bubble was burst along with any illusion of being the nearly perfect mom, the mere fact that we were able to have that discussion and use it as a springboard to move us to a better place told me that things were probably not so bad around here.

My hope is that the way we handled this uncomfortable honestly has set the stage for more uncomfortable conversations down the line. Conversations that will bless us both when we need to share or hear things that may be challenging, or maybe when we just need a reninder that somebody gets us.

Stuff I Like: Cliff Notes for Cooking

My husband grew up in a home where meatloaf was on Monday night, fried chicken was Tuesday night and so on. This certainly simplifies things, but I prefer a little more variation. I generally enjoy cooking and have shelves full of cookbooks and recipes torn from magazines at the ready to give a try.

Preparing a wide range of dishes has produced a family of adventurous and game eaters. But in deviating from the safety of a recurring weekly menu I have had to come up with a couple of rules to guide the selection process so that I don’t start to hate making dinner.

My first rule is ironclad. If a recipe isn’t a homerun it gets trashed. I have made some real miscalculations. Like the time I served seviche, when no one was ready for raw fish. Or the marinated chicken that sounded delicious but was impossibly bland. I have made many dishes that only I love. Which is fine, but until the day comes that I am cooking for one, it is much easier to shoot for something with wider appeal.

Another thing I do that has come in remarkably handy is to jot down notes on the recipe as I am cooking. As silly as it sounds, I have found it extremely helpful to spy in the margin, “super easy. everyone loves. add more veggies” or “double the marinade. best with brown rice”.

I have these little notes on many of the recipes torn from the pages of Cooking Light or yanked from the newspaper. But it took me a lot longer to actually write in my cookbooks. It felt as if I was defacing them, perhaps a holdover from school days when it was big trouble to write in textbooks.

But little reminders here are probably the most helpful because it is hard to remember just which chicken dish it was that we all liked among a sea of choices in The Joy of Cooking. I have even taken to writing down the name and page number of the ones I love on that blank page at the end of the book. My own index of family hits. Super nerdy, I know. But super helpful, too.

It is stuff like this that I should probably never admit to doing. Really, what could be less cool. But it is the little things that really expedite the making of a satisfying meal and help keep cooking healthy, interesting dishes more of a pleasure than a chore, which works for me.  Even if I am a world class nerd.

Elements of Risk

While riding a chairlift you can often spot placards affixed to the poles of the lift. They offer advice such as “Skiers are encouraged to wear sunscreen at high altitudes”, “Prepare to unload with ski tips up”, or “This lift closes at 4 pm”.

On a ride up the chair during our recent ski trip I spied this one, “There are elements of risk in skiing that common sense and personal awareness can help reduce.” I would like to take that sign, replace the word “skiing” with “life” and hang it prominently in our kitchen so that my kids could read it before heading out the door.

I do not know that skiing is necessarily a metaphor for life, but that sign sure tells it like it is. I love its message and the wisdom it imparts. It is a reminder to me to be more intentional as a parent in helping my kids identify and take responsibility for elements of risk they encounter in their daily lives.

We all know that life can be risky, and it certainly is unpredictable. Acknowledging this seems like a great first step in addressing risks. And while common sense seems to be an attribute that comes more naturally to some than to others, I cannot imagine an adult, looking back on his or her own youth, who will not agree that common sense is largely an acquired skill. It can be instilled. It can be learned. I heard a great definition once that states “Common sense means paying attention to the obvious.” This entails slowing down, thinking things through, and having the confidence to trust your instincts. These are great skills that it is possible to hone at any age.

And they seem to go hand in hand with the second protective factor identified on that chairlift sign, personal awareness. While personal awareness, by definition, focuses on the self, it is really the opposite of self-absorption. Personal awareness implies awareness on one’s self in relation to others, whether circumstances or individuals. It suggests an ability to appreciate a situation in the context of all that is going on around oneself. It has been my observation that such awareness does not necessarily come easily to teenagers. Thus, the learning opportunity.

Common sense and personal awareness can keep you out of trouble as you go careening down a mountain, and I think they are equally effective in life beyond skis. Helping our kids become more adept at “paying attention to the obvious” may sound so obvious as to be unnecessary. But it is a part of helping them connect the dots in their lives. And that is a worthwhile endeavor.

Stuff I Like: Aquafor

I love the healing ointment Aquafor, especially in the winter.

It is the best thing I know for seriously chapped hands. It is also great for chapped lips, as I learned when mine blistered and cracked after a long day of spring skiing without SPF anything on my lips.

But my favorite Aquafor discovery is how well it works as an eye balm. In a vain attempt to eradicate my ever deepening “laugh lines” (better known as crow’s feet) I have spent ridiculous sums of money for any eye cream that comes with even the vague promise of rejuvenation .

At the dermatologist’s once for a routine skin check my doctor asked about the dry and irritated skin at the corners of my eyes. Seasonal allergies had rendered them raw and uncomfortable. “Try a little Aquafor”, she suggested. “That should do the trick.”

And it did. As well as any overpriced cosmetic counter product I had ever tried. It soaks in overnight, leaving the eye area soft and supple in the morning.

I love that stuff. Here are a few other great uses for Aquafor:

To heal dry, cracked heels
Soothe minor cuts and burns
Eliminate irritations from laser treatments or radiation therapy
As a great diaper cream
Softens dry elbows and knees
And I hear that it is great for healing tattoos...

Have I missed anything?

They Will Find Their Truth in Your Eyes

We just returned from a family ski trip where each year we commemorate a particular bend in a tree lined trail that we call “Annie’s Corner”. It is located at the crux of a tight turn alongside a deep ravine. The ravine that our youngest daughter Annie pitched headlong into at the age of five.

On that fateful day my husband led the way down the trail we refer to as Le Mans, for its ability to make us feel like Formula One race car drivers. I was pulling up the rear with the three kids between us, but with the twisting and turning of the trail I did not notice that anything, or anyone, was amiss until I saw the look of bewilderment and panic in my husband’s eyes as I arrived at the end with no Annie in sight.

Luckily, a member of the ski patrol stood mere feet away.  He was a tall, confidence inspiring, Native American gentleman with a long glossy braid that whipped in the wind as he and my husband raced back uphill on his snowmobile. In my heart I knew the turn that Annie did not make. I knew the steep drop and the rocky bottom of that ravine. I imagined my sweet girl skiing headlong into it. And I pictured the worst.

My job was to stay put at the base of the trail with the other two kids, but I could not stand the uncertainty.  So I sprinted uphill in my clunky ski boots at a pace so surreal I arrived just moments behind the snowmobile. Not bad for an undistinguished runner.

And there, at the top of the ravine, shaken but standing, was Annie. She had climbed up the steep bank as far as she could and planted her skis to draw attention, then walked upstream until she found a place flat enough to scramble out. She was making her way back to her skis.

As I rushed toward her, filled with panic and tears of relief, our ski patrol friend stopped me in my tracks. “Be strong, Mother”, he told me. “Be strong, because your child is strong, and she will find her truth in your eyes. Show her who she is today.”

And so, instead of dissolving into a puddle of tears I ran up to Annie, uncertain but grinning, and gave her a big hug. “You are such a resourceful girl!” I told her. “You knew just what to do. I am so glad to see you!” And I watched her think this through, eyeing me as if deciding how to process this greeting. And then she returned my grin and said, “I didn’t know just what to do, but I knew that I could figure it out.”

I felt the truth in our exchange. Because if it my words had not rung true they would only have heightened Annie’s discomfort. I imagine that we have all experienced this, a time when someone dismissed a hurt or negated a genuine emotion. There is nothing empowering about that.

But without the admonishment I was given before greeting Annie, I am sure that I would not have had the presence of mind to take a deep breathe, get beyond my own emotions, and truly see my child in this situation.

It was a precious gift and a priceless lesson that I have carried with me ever since. I cannot count the number of times in the intervening years that I have recalled this wisdom, taken a deep breathe, and recognized the power that I have to play a fundamental role in shaping my children’s experience. What a privilege, and a responsibility, to be able to help them connect with the truth that they can find in my eyes.

Stuff I Like: Empty Spaces

“A vacuum begs to be filled.”


Campi Catalaunici, Gaul a.d .451



Story of my life. Maybe the story of yours? I would like to think so, as it removes some of the self-recrimination I feel when asking myself where another day has gone. It comforts me that loads of really smart, competent people I know experience this same time sucking phenomenon.

The best antidote I have found for that treadmill sensation of working up a proverbial sweat while running in place, is to build some empty space into my day. Taking a few minutes to simply breathe and be present not only has a calming effect, but it has an energizing one, as well. And somehow, on the days that I manage to take my own advice and allow for a little empty space, I get more things done, and I usually get them done better.

Establishing a practice of meditation is a wonderful way to create and honor this space. But simply stopping for a few minutes and breathing deeply qualifies. This, in fact, is a form of meditation, and it works wonders.

The way in which I make sense of how slowing down often helps me to be more effective, more creative, and get to where I want to go more easily, is to picture a small child working feverishly on a project without adequate instructions our guidance. Lots of motion, and usually mounting frustration, but often a fair amount of wheel spinning, as well.

Well, I am that small child who often mistakes action for effectiveness, plowing headlong into my day without benefit of the kind of thoughtfulness by which synergy is possible. Slowing down, breathing deeply, and allowing my mind to be open and receptive can stop wheel spinning in its tracks, providing the space to make connections and reenter the fray with a sense of groundedness and calm that always serves me well.

As vacuums always beg to be filled I have come to realize that I will never stumble upon a nice ripe empty space. It must be planned for, protected, and honored. So why don’t you try making a date with yourself sometime soon and see how it works for you. I’d love to hear.

April Fool

With two teenagers in the house and another one close on their heels, emotions around here run the gamut and often run rampant, as well. I notice that when I respond to someone’s bad behavior or foul mood with a knee jerk response, emphasis may rightly be placed on the word jerk. Because I act just like one. It is as though the irrational, immature and utterly unreasonable behavior of my child is a direct affront to my very existence. It brings out a righteousness in me that would be laughable if it wasn’t kind of pathetic.

But I am learning the fine art if letting it go. I am learning not to take myself so seriously, which has nothing to do with not taking them seriously. In fact, by getting past the adolescent indignation their maddening behavior often elicits in me, I find that I am much better able to see what is really going on with them.

Kids need to take ownership of their bad behavior so that they can move on to the next step of dealing with it. But by matching them and call them one as they descend into the depths of immaturity I not only rob them of this opportunity, but I model the very behavior I find so deplorable, thus perpetuating the babyishness I can’t stand.

My kids can be maddening. No doubt about that. Deciding that I will lighten up once they model only lovely behavior will ensure a very protracted sour season for all of us. But when I unilaterally let go of my need to prevail in inane arguments the turn around is just shy of miraculous.

So I am trying not to take myself so seriously. I am trying to remind myself that their bad mood rarely has anything to do with me. And I repeat to myself that I always have a choice about how their behavior will affect me. I do not need to go down with the ship. I am free to have a lovely day even in the midst of their adolescent angst. After all, I already endured my own. Certainly I am smart enough not to sign up for a double dose.

I can be an uptight fool or I can resist taking the bait, recognizing the transience of foolish adolescent behavior.  The choice is all mine.

Stuff I Lie: Fried Egg Sandwiches

Fried egg sandwiches remind me of being a kid. They were the fast food of choice in my house growing up. We did not live near any drive thrus, and my mother eschewed fast food long before it was popular to do so. 

I now find my own family’s divergent schedules, unanticipated athletic events, and runaway can days really mess up the dinner hour, so we are rediscovering this low-brow delicacy.

I love that you can couple this simple comfort food with an apple or some carrot sticks and have a meal with protein, whole grains (if you forgo the Wonder Bread), and a nice fruit/veggie component in about three minutes. For pennies. No additives. No artificial anything.

For those of you who did not grow eating fried egg sandwiches. This is how you make them:

Over medium heat, coat a small skillet with cooking spray. Pop two slices of bread into the toaster.

Crack an egg onto the skillet and flip it after a minute or so, when the egg whites turn opaque. You can nick the yolk so that it cooks a bit, or enjoy a really gooey sandwich with the yolk intact. Salt and pepper to taste.

Here is where tastes vary. My brother loaded his toast with butter.  I preferred my sandwich with a smear of mayonnaise. My husband likes his with ketchup. I think this is nasty, but it how my kids ask for theirs, too, so I guess there’s no accounting for taste.

Serve this with a tall glass of milk and you have delicious fast food that you need not drive to fetch – or feel guilty about!

Uncomfortable Honesty

My daughter recently taught me a lesson about strength of character and bravery. In an age when much social interaction, particularly between teens, takes place via the back and forth of disembodied texting or by writing on somebody’s “wall”, she chose to apologize to someone she had hurt face-to-face. That she had not intended to be hurtful was strictly beside the point, at least to her increasingly uncomfortable conscience.

She had gotten caught up in the kind of third party nonsense that feels reassuringly old school to me. Some things in adolescence, it seems, never change. And getting friends to act as intermediaries appears to be one of them. Unwittingly, my daughter found herself at the center of one of the many minor romantic misadventures playing out in the hallways of her high school last Fall.

After repeatedly assuring friends, and friends of friends, that she did not “like” like a certain boy, and bearing the brunt of teasing that ensued simply because her name was being bandied about, she finally became emphatic. I Do Not Like Him. At All. And in doing so both hurt and embarrassed a really nice guy. Whom she did like, just not “that way”. In attempting to deflect some very unwanted and increasingly awkward attention, she had lashed out at someone whose only crime was thinking she was special.

A vague feeling of discomfort regarding the whole awkward scene ensued for her and simmered somewhere beneath the surface, occasionally percolating into her consciousness. Which made her feel uncomfortable and caused her to act a little snarly around the house. This was not a big deal, but it festered. And the rest of us suffered from an irritability she could not even put her finger on.

I recently suggested that she just try talking to the poor guy to clear up any misunderstanding. Well that sounded like a terrible idea to her. She thought I was crazy. How totally awkward! Plus, it was ancient history, except that it still bugged her. The subject was dropped.
But about a week later she came home fairly skipping and grinning ear to ear. “I did it.” She beamed. “I saw him and I told him that I got really flustered and did not mean to hurt his feelings.” “What did he say?” I asked. “Nothing really.” she replied cheerfully as she headed upstairs.

It was then that I knew she had discovered a great truth. When we make amends, when we seek to make something right with someone, we certainly do so hoping that it will make a difference to the person with whom we seek reconciliation. But the person with whom we really seek reconciliation is often ourselves. I am grateful that my daughter was keyed in enough to her feelings and to the feelings of someone other than herself to realize that she had behaved in a way that proved hurtful. And I am grateful that the still, small voice inside of her found this unsettling. But mostly I am grateful that she was willing to do something uncomfortable to rectify it. No texting. No intermediaries. No awkward avoidance. Eye contact was involved. And an apology. And just like that, a burden was lifted.

Sounds simple, but I would do well to take the advice I so wisely gave my daughter. I often shrink from initiating or participating in uncomfortable conversations that really should be held. I’m too busy. It’s too awkward. I don’t know how to say it. Yet, until I make my peace, or say my piece, or am open enough to truly listen, there is little chance I will know the peace that I crave. It is so low tech, but it works like a charm. Even, and especially, in a high tech world.

Stuff I Like: Crocuses, Forsythia and Phlox

I spied a rich purple carpet of crocuses this morning along my usual running route. I swear that it was not there yesterday. Glory be, spring has arrived! Or at least it is sending us a teaser in the form of brave little shoots sure to multiply by the day.

In truth, my favorite flowers are hydrangeas, and my yard is loaded with them at the height of summer. I love their big mophead poms, an intoxicating contradiction of sturdiness and delicacy. They grace the landscape along with all manner of showy flowers and shrubs as summer bursts forth with its audacious display of horticultural beauty.

But there is no time of year that begs for a glimpse color and new life like early spring. Although forsythia blooms predictably each year, as do the crocus and the phlox, their appearance always takes me by surprise. Particularly on years when they have to push their way through remnants of tired snow, they seem an improbable juxtaposition to the landscape, almost too good to be true.

This is why I have planted generous clumps of phlox that burst into a border of vibrant splotches. It is why I devote one afternoon each Fall to planting bulbs. The squirrels think that I am burying little presents just for them, so I never know what will emerge in the spring.  But for eyes that have become accustomed to the drab of a Midwest February and the slop of early March, there is no more gratifying sight than the burst of color and life they provide.

And before I know it, the days begin to lengthen, the breezes blow more gentle and fragrant, and neighbors I haven’t seen in months are coaxed out of their houses along with their dogs and strollers and bicycles and friendly waves.

I love the brave early bloomers of Spring.  And armed with the immediacy of my appreciation it is the perfect time to plan for an even showier next year!

Setting Our Own Standard

My daughter was a little curt and snippy with me the other day, while we were out doing her bidding. Rather than being contrite or at least subdued when I called her on it, she was indignant. “You wouldn’t believe how other kids treat their parents!” she informed me, with a withering look that was calculated to put me in my place.

I stewed on that for a bit, resisting the urge to retort with the age old parental response, “I don’t care what everybody else is doing” because I wanted to give this one some thought. You see, my daughter is a great kid. She is honest, hard working, and responsible. Given what we could be dealing with at sixteen her father and I feel very lucky indeed. But in the end I realize that we are talking about separate issues. I don’t want to view her relative to others. The fact that so-and-so hurls profanities at her parents does not make it any more acceptable for my daughter to sulk through the mall without any acknowledgement of the time, energy, and resources being expended on her behalf.

The teen years seem to be ones characterized by rather unflattering self-absorption. My mother is happy to remind me of how, as a teen, I was at the center of my very own universe, caught up in the minutia of myself. It was the luxury I enjoyed as a child raised with enough love and abundance to be able to engage in some serious navel gazing. But what I did not enjoy was a lot of back-up to support this self-aggrandizement. There were behavioral expectations at school, at home, and in the community to live up to, or pay the price. Television seemed to echo these standards with programs like the Brady Bunch and The Cosby Show, where adults were portrayed as smart and credible, and courtesy and respect held sway. Now granted, I never met a family that actually resembled the Brady Bunch or the Huxtables, but still, I was getting the message about standards of behavior on a variety of fronts.

These days it seems as if television shows centered on teens are largely parent-free or use adults primarily for pratfalls or as punch lines. I remember a while back when my son said something uncharacteristically bratty to me and I realized that he was literally pirating lines from a Nickelodeon sit-com. This child seemed genuinely perplexed when I told him that such behavior was not going to fly. So, if we as parents are competing with the likes of Lindsey Lohan, Facebook, and Gossip Girls for airtime with our kids it is no wonder we may be experiencing a subtle descent into sarcasm and irreverence that often does not even register with them. I get the message being sent by my daughter: I don’t even know how lucky I have it.

But it doesn’t feel lucky to me if she simply exceeds the minimum standards of socially acceptable behavior. It doesn’t feel lucky if she is just not as rude as “everybody else”. I want her to operate from a foundation of values that reflect a sense of respect for herself and for others. I want her to become clear on who she is and what she believes in, and to use that as the measuring stick. In short, I want her to set the standard for her own life, not just pattern it after whatever is coming down the pike.

And so I continue to respond with the old adage, “I don’t care what everyone else is doing”. Then my husband and I give some thought to ways in which we can help her develop a sense of self not built on shifting sands. We share, and hopefully model, the values that we subscribe to. We tell our kids why they matter to us, and sometimes the hard earned lessons we learned that helped to us determine that. This does not seem to go very well when delivered in lecture form, but we seem to make some headway when it is brought up in the context of our everyday lives. We have shaken our heads at some ridiculous lapses in judgment we have seen with our kids, finding it hard to believe that certain things are not just plain common sense. We have gotten to the point, though, where we presume nothing. Values are caught and taught, but there is much that is not necessarily intuitive.

Perhaps in the end, having our children observe the widely divergent ways in which people think it is okay to operate will prove to be a blessing. Far too many of us from the Brady Bunch era knew how we were expected to behave, while giving little thought to why we did so. Many of us didn’t own the values that we subscribed to, which made them shifting sands in and of themselves, a real danger in conformity.

So we challenge our children to think through the things that will define them, while continuing to set our expectations high. Our hope is that they will know that we believe they are capable of great things and grow to believe this themselves. We hope that they will know how we have come to define some of the attributes that we hold dear and will know, also, that we trust them to define for themselves the standards by which they will choose to live. Just as with telling the truth, knowing who you are really helps you keep your story straight.

Stuff I Like: Blank Note Cards

I always try to keep a supply of little blank note cards handy. I have some stashed in the glove box of my car, in my desk drawer, sometimes even in my purse. I usually stock up at Target because their selection is cute, cheap and pretty extensive. Convenience plays a big factor, as I can hardly go a week without making a Target run.

I like to dash off quick notes of thanks or encouragement or just an “I’m thinking of you” card while I am waiting in the car pool line, at the dentist, or even in the infernally slow line at the Post Office. With note cards handy (along with a book of stamps) the effort expended to actually act on the inclination to drop a line is minimal. It is literally a two or three minute investment of time, but the impact can change a day. And the day that usually changes is mine.

Taking the time to connect reminds me of who and what really has meaning in my life. I feel the ripple throughout my day as invisible bonds of affection and concern strengthen. Emails are efficient, convenient and instantaneous. They certainly hold a place of prominence in my life. But there is nothing like spying the familiar handwriting of a friend amidst bills and junk mail to make my day. I love that I can offer this little boost to someone else.

The operative word, I have found, is “little”. Cute little note cards. Knowing that a couple of lines will suffice ups the odds that I will put pen to paper. And in the spirit of “it’s the thought that counts” those couple of lines are usually all that is needed to send a little love.

The Most Important Two Minutes of the Day

I stumbled upon an article, “The Two Most Important Minutes of the Day” years ago while flipping through a women’s magazine as I was getting my hair cut. I was intrigued. If these two minutes did, in fact, exist then I wanted know about them.

It turns out that this was a “can this marriage be saved” kind of article, and the two minutes it was referring to were the first two minutes after a husband walks through the door at the end of the day. Very June Cleaver, I thought. However, the concept of those two defining minutes has stuck with me and I have come to believe that there is great wisdom in taking the suggestion from that article to be particularly mindful of them, not only with my husband, but also with my children. The concept can easily be extended to friends, colleagues, extended family and pretty much anyone with whom we are in relationship.

Perhaps this is some offshoot of the advice most of us have been given about the importance of first impressions. The defining nature of initial encounters is also the premise for Malcolm Gladwell’s bestselling book Blink. The idea is nothing new. But the advice I found offered in that rather unlikely of spots has really made a difference to me. There are a variety of simple ways that I employ it in my daily life. Among them:

Picking the kids up from school. I try to make sure that I am not on the phone or otherwise distracted as I greet them. This does not always translate into special moments of meaningful sharing, but it is the time they are most likely to talk about the events of their day. One thing is for sure, when I am checked out as they are checking in, I can almost feel the wall of separation come down.

I try to extend this same courtesy to my husband when we first catch up at the end of the day. This is a tangible way that I can show him how much he is valued, and it sets the stage for the mutual regard and respect that I want to characterize our relationship and our home. While it may feel sexist, my extending this courtesy first, I have found that it does make a difference. And I have found that consideration is catchy. To paraphrase Gandhi, I am trying to “be the change that I want to see in the world”.

A very simple way that I employ this idea as I go about my day is just to try and be wherever I am. If I am talking to a colleague, interacting with a friend, or simply checking out at the grocery store, taking the time to be present, to make eye contact, and to read faces, can make all the difference. I have found that if I am willing to go first, I am usually rewarded with a considerate and surprisingly satisfying exchange in return.

It is such a simple little investment, but it pays such great dividends!

Stuff I Like: Gilt.com

A friend turned me on to www.gilt.com not long ago. Each day around noon an email alerts me to the day’s offerings. Men’s, women’s and children’s fashions and luxury brands are offered at up to 70% retail in the form of an on-line sale lasting up to 36 hours.

The Gilt Groupe was established to bring New York invitation-only sample sales to those of us who do not live in Manhattan or have special connections. Our personal invitation arrives via the internet.

Most days a two-second peruse assures me that I am missing nothing, but occasionally I will find a designer I love or funky costume jewelry or hand tooled leather-bound books or any number of things I didn’t know I needed just waiting to be had.

This has come in particularly handy in beefing up my stockpile of holiday and birthday gifts. I purchased the perfect wine journal for my brother, a great necklace for my niece and really cool salad tongs for my mother at incredible prices.

These all reside in a defunct linen closet I commandeered long ago and outfitted with a deadbolt lock. It has been dubbed the “Christmas closet” at our house and I cannot tell you what a pleasure it is to round the corner to the holidays knowing that I have effortlessly (and frugally) completed the bulk of my shopping simply by keeping my eyes peeled throughout the year.

This takes a great deal of stress out of the holidays, freeing me up to really appreciate the festivities. And it comes with the added bonus of knowing that I do not have to cringe when the credit card bills arrive in January. Guilt free shopping at gilt.com!

Can We Talk?

Our fourteen year old son has recently become monosyllabic. I can’t quite pinpoint the shift, but he used to chat about his day, join in dinner conversations, sometimes even share his feelings. But now? Now we are largely down to grunts. I know that underneath the tangle of gangly limbs and facial features morphing at an alarming rate beats the heart of my sweet and recognizable child. But the juxtaposition of awkward body parts seems like an apt metaphor for the awkwardness I sense on the inside.

This is driving my husband particularly crazy, which makes me laugh because I am confident that he went through this same Neanderthal phase. But, age appropriate or not, we are committed to walking with our son through this inarticulate season, holding him accountable to some reasonable standard of behavior as we help him to develop an expanded verbal and emotional vocabulary. It may not sound like much, but it feels like a big job as we bump up against a world that often seems to set the bar pretty low.
We never really bought into the “boys will be boys” philosophy which so often seems to be used by parents as a rationalization for bad behavior and an utter lack of self control. Our son was perfectly capable of taking the roughhousing outside. And while we have always recognized and celebrated the differences we observe between the ways he and his sisters navigate the world, we have too much respect for him to dumb down our expectations. We are looking not to excuse but to assist and to encourage. Certainly, gender has a fundamental impact on social development and communication skills, but we have a young man to raise here. He may become somebody’s husband. He may become somebody’s dad. Basic consideration and articulation seem to factor in as reasonable expectations. There is much work to be done.

I think that helping children mature into reasonable, contributing members of society has always been the job of parents. But in past generations a more generally agreed upon set of social mores seemed to better complement this endeavor. I am grateful for many aspects of a less rigid society that celebrates individualism and free expression. But sometimes these terms feel a bit like a smokescreen for self-absorption and immaturity. If everybody keeps fixating on getting their needs met, things are going to get pretty ugly around here.
Facebook, “tweeting”, and reality T.V. are some of the cornerstones of contemporary culture premised on a desire for self expression and a hunger for attention that sometimes feels like a relentless and desperate cry to “Look at me! Look at ME!” It is as if one is not living if life is not lived out loud – with copious amounts of feedback.
Much of my distaste for this self-focused approach to life stems from the fact that it often leaves out the “other” in social interactions. My hope in working with my son to move past his non-responsive state is to help him arrive at a place that honors both himself and those with whom he interacts. I do not want him to become a pleaser or repressed or sacrifice his individuality. I don’t want to emasculate him. But I do not want him to settle for truncated social/emotional development just because he’s a guy, and lots of guys limp through life with seriously limited interpersonal skills. These guys often seem to be the ones who put their fists through walls (or worse) when they’re frustrated. And they seem to be the ones who are frequently frustrated. Being macho – and monosyllabic – looks mighty lonely.

And that is why we are doing a little sensitivity training around here. Not only are we looking for some sort of response beyond “fine” to the question, “How was your day?” but we are hoping that he might actually begin inquiring about ours – and sincerely care about the answer. This fourteen year old of ours is a great kid, and I know that he does care. But in reminding him that he is an integral part of a larger whole and that his mood and manners have a fundamental impact on the rest of us, we hope that we are helping him to make connections that he can take with him out into the broader world. How he chooses to walk through his day will have a profound impact on the way that it will unfold, and on the people around him. Connecting in meaningful ways with the others in his life feels good, just as it feels good to be able to connect with himself. Way better than putting his fist through a wall.

Stuff I Like: Wendy Mogel's Book, The Blessing of a Skinned Knee

I love a good parenting book. And I especially like a good parenting book that provides useful information while striking an optimistic note. It is like talking with a wise friend who can troubleshoot with you while providing reassurance that everything is going to be all right.

Wendy Mogel does this beautifully in The Blessing of a Skinned Knee. As a clinical psychologist, she became disheartened by the pervasive malaise that seemed to underpin the lives of many of her patients, folks who seemed to have good reason to be happy and content. In attempting to make sense of this, she returned to the roots of her Jewish faith searching for answers in the wisdom of the Torah, the Talmud and other Jewish teachings. I am not Jewish, but the lessons and insights contained in this book extend far beyond the boundaries of any particular faith tradition. They feel very universally applicable.

As the title suggests, there is much to be learned from the things that do not go as we might like. Oftentimes, more. And since every life is filled with countless examples of things that turn out in unscripted and often unwelcome ways, it is encouraging to be reminded of the wisdom in embracing "what is" as a means to growing to an even better place of "what may be".

One of my favorite take homes from this book concerns the way in which we view the most frustrating and challenging aspects of our childrens' characters. Identify those, she says, and you have also found their greatest strengths. It is a call to work with who our children are rather than to work against it and to help them grow into their own best selves.

This book is informative, encouraging, and a quick read. It felt a bit like being reminded of stuff that I somehow already knew. But it is a thoughtful and encouraging reminder to connect with truths than run deeper than the whims of contemporary culture. Ms. Mogel offers strategies for encouraging respect and gratitude, for fostering responsibility, and for connecting with truths that run deep within ourselves and our children.

Facebook and Letting Go

Our oldest recently turned sixteen. For months she has been driving me all around town, expressing an unprecedented interest in running errands with me, as long as I am willing to flip her the car keys. She is fielding correspondence regarding SAT prep courses and fretting about community service hours. Clearly, we are in a period of transition. Her world is getting bigger and the stakes are getting higher. And now she is making noises about creating a Facebook page. How funny that the thought of this should make me as uncomfortable as imagining her merging onto the Interstate, solo.

This discomfort has caused me to ask myself just what it is about Facebook that feels like such a big deal to me. Almost every kid my daughter knows has a Facebook page. A good number of my friends have one. For heavens sake, I have one. The fact that mine was inadvertently established by unwittingly responding to someone who had “friended” me, and that it sits fallow most all the time, does not diminish the fact that Facebook has become a ubiquitous part of our culture.

My daughter is a thoughtful and generally cautious kid, the kind who actually listened at the school assemblies where experts were trotted out to discuss the perils of social networking websites. She gets that this is, in large part, a medium over which one has very limited control. But she is not so much concerned about her own ability to navigate her Facebook page responsibly as she is concerned about others who might not. She knows the stupid stuff kids post to each other. She’s heard the cautionary tales. She’s seen a great number of ridiculous and ill-advised photos.

But the reality is that much of my daughter’s social world is played out on Facebook. She has been left out of the loop on more than one occasion simply because she was not privy to plans made and relayed there. And to really muddy the waters, her school (the one that has been bringing in experts to caution students about social networking sites) regularly posts photos from school sponsored social events on Facebook to share with its students. It has even created an official school Facebook page in an effort to encourage young alumni to remain connected and, dare I say, contribute to their alma mater.

My concerns about Facebook mirror my daughter’s concerns. They center on the issue of control. There is something inherently out of control about a vehicle for communication that leaves you wide open to all manner of unsolicited input, no matter how carefully you navigate it.

But to be honest, my concern centers not so much on out-of-control, as it does on self-control. I wonder if my daughter will get too caught up in a virtual world. Facebook can be a wonderfully effective communication tool, but when you talk to many users about their Facebook experience the word “addicted” often comes to mind. Finding a healthy balance where one uses Facebook, rather than becoming consumed by it, seems somewhat elusive for many.

I do not want my daughter to default to surfing Facebook just because it offers an easy way for her to zone out. I do not want her to become one dimensional and unimaginative. A real issue I see looming is one of self-regulation. I have observed this problem with little boys glued to their joy sticks, with teens so fixated on texting they blow right through stop signs, and with kids who find that instead of having a Facebook page, Facebook has them.

But I also know that the season of autocratic parenting is gone for my husband and me. Life used to be so much more straight forward when the issues were clear cut and the answers were supplied by us. “Look both ways before crossing the street.” “Never get into a car with a stranger.” “Always remember to say please and thank you.” “Don’t speak with your mouth full.” These were the edicts of responsible parenting. Rules meant to protect and to guide. They were the building blocks of values and expectations that formed the foundation of my children’s young lives.

But I can almost count the time in months that we have left with our daughter under our roof and in our daily care. For better or worse we are well beyond the foundation laying stage. The day that she will be on her own, responsible for the full array of choices that will define the life she constructs for herself, is right around the corner. We have slowly but surely moved from laying down the law to coming along side our daughter, as consultants and collaborators. And while this may seem like a watered down version of parenting, I am keenly aware that it most definitely is not. It looms as the most challenging of seasons, requiring us to be our most thoughtful, sensitive and discerning selves in order to help our daughter take over the reigns of her own life. We know this child. We know the world in which she lives and the world into which she will find herself unleashed. We are in countdown mode as parents. She is just ramping up.

So when I reflect upon my big Facebook concerns, those of self-regulation, self-control and good judgment, I guess that I am able to see the opportunity a dip into uncharted waters affords. If I truly believe that my job as a parent is to work myself out of a day job, then I am obliged to help my daughter move along the continuum to self-sufficiency in healthy ways. To have a shot at growing into a solid, self-sufficient adult she will need to become increasingly skilled at making good choices and using good judgment. Soon it will be her sole responsibility to filter the overwhelming amount of information assaulting her daily and to manage the vast array of choices she will have to inform her walk and her talk.

So, as much as it pushes me out of my comfort zone to allow my daughter unfettered access to Facebook (I have attended the cautionary tale assemblies, too, you know), I can see that this is just one more step along the path of trusting and of letting go. Facebook, it seems to me, is neither good nor bad. Facebook is a tool. It is the way in which my daughter will choose to use Facebook that will determine whether it becomes a curse or a blessing in her life.

And so, while there is no right answer as to whether to Facebook or not, I believe that my husband and I will give our daughter the go ahead for now. We have talked to her about our concerns and have asked her to come up with some guidelines for usage that she thinks are reasonable and responsible. We have found that this really puts the focus where it should be. We want our children to own their own choices, to think them through, to take responsibility. Together we will go through the guidelines she has developed to ensure that we are all on the same page. And then my husband and I will take another baby step in letting go. After making sure that she friends us first, of course.

We have entered a season of parenting that requires infinitely more flexibility and finesse than we have had to employ to date. There is nothing passive about letting go when the letting go is done with real thoughtfulness and intention. Racing headlong into the future seems to come pretty naturally for our kids. For us it is an acquired skill. Which just goes to show you that they are not the only ones who are being called to continually grow. We are growing up right along with them. My husband and I have been pretty good at making and monitoring the rules we hope will guide and safeguard their journey into adulthood. But letting go, now that is the tough part.

Stuff I Like: An Easy Fruit Tart to Impress your Friends

Having a signature gift or cocktail or dessert can really simplify things.

Each holiday season I make jars of honey mustard from a recipe that has been passed down for generations in my husband’s family. It is incredible, always well received, and easy to make. Which makes it a homerun in my book and has eliminated one layer of stress for me in December. I do not have to think about what to give the neighbors or teachers or tote along as hostess gifts.  I would share this recipe with you if I had not been told that doing so would result in immediate expulsion from the family.

But I have another recipe, given to me by my sister-in-law, that I am at liberty to share and it embodies those same three attributes. It is delicious, easy to make, and people love it. It has the added distinction of looking really impressive. Feel free to make it your signature dessert, too.

This tart has three basic components, a shortbread crust, a white chocolate and cream cheese filling, and fruit for the top. Make it a time or two and you can make it in your sleep. Top it with raspberries and kiwi for Christmas, blueberries and strawberries for the Fourth of July, or anything you have on hand in any pattern you like and it cannot help but look fabulous. Your four year old can make it into a masterpiece, which is even more impressive. The best part is that people will eat it because fruit is virtuous, and they will be thrilled that this is one tart that tastes even better than it looks. No one needs to know that this is not a virtuous dessert at all. Shortbread, white chocolate and fresh fruit? Yum!

Cecil’s White Chocolate Fruit Tart

1.)Base (may be made a day ahead)
¾ cup softened butter
½ cup confectioner’s sugar
1 ½ cups all purpose flour
Heat oven to 300 degrees. Beat butter and sugar until fluffy. Blend in flour. Press into 12” pizza or pie platter (You can use anything really. Cookie sheets work fine). Bake 20-25 minutes. Cool completely.

2.) Filling (may also be made ahead)
10 oz. package white chocolate chips
¼ c. whipping cream
8 oz. softened cream cheese

Melt chocolate chips and cream until mixture is smooth (1 minute in microwave on high, stir. If still lumpy heat in 15 seconds increments, then stir, until smooth). Beat in cream cheese until smooth. Spread on cooled base.

3.) Fruit (all berries and kiwi work especially well)

Arrange fruit however it pleases you and top with the following glaze: ¼ cup sugar, 1 Tbs. corn starch, ½ cup pineapple juice, heated until bubbly and thickened. Cool slightly before brushing on top of fruit.

Enjoy!

Minding Manners

“Remember to welcome our guests by name." " Don’t forget to make eye contact when you extend your hand for a handshake. ” And so goes the prelude to an evening we will spend with old friends whom my children have not seen for several years. They are scowling. And I am, once again, “The Manners Police”, just one of the many terms of endearment my children have for me. Except that they do not think I am very dear at the moment. They think I am an old relic who places too much emphasis on outdated social niceties.

This causes me to reflect upon the regard for good manners I am attempting to instill in them. Is proper etiquette really just a euphemism for antiquated social rituals? The employment of a special brand of torture I inflict on my kids because my parents inflicted it on me? Do I just want my children to put on an attractive public face to make me look good?

Manners, as defined in the Merriam-Webster dictionary are considered “a person’s outward bearing; way of speaking to and treating others.” These courtesies we extend to others are intended to help make this world a nicer and more smoothly operating place. If my kids think that manners as passé, then perhaps I am doing a poor job of explaining their relevancy. Or maybe I am just setting the bar too low.

Take a moment when you’re out to listen to the way that many of us talk to one another. Or consider the way that so many of us regale strangers with the unsolicited and unwelcome details of our personal business as we chat on our cell phones in public spaces. Get a load of daytime talk shows or reality TV. Or just try to get a good head count for an event requesting guests to RSVP. Things do not look very promising. We appear to be a society of increasingly self-absorbed and intolerant individuals. Which is where the role for good manners should come in. At least this is the case I am making to my children.

When we are courteous we acknowledge the value of others with whom we are interacting or are in proximity. This means that it is not all about us. But it has become increasingly easy to insulate ourselves from the fact that we still live in community when we are so often tuned into our ipods or cell phones or laptops and out of the interactions taking place around us.

I worry that this propensity to operate in a bubble of self-absorption is reinforced by the manner in which we relate technologically. Texting, emailing, and instant messaging connect us to one and other, but these are largely unilateral endeavors. We send. We receive. We are at the center of our own personal universe of information, most often operating without benefit of the nuances or dynamic interplay of personal connection. Could this be why many of us seem to have become so comfortable talking to others while tuned in almost exclusively to ourselves and our needs?

In an effort to help our kids mature into discerning individuals, we have given them free reign to question the manners we enforce. We believe that manners should have teeth. That there should be some practical, relevant reason for their existence. And so, instead of autocratically demanding compliance, we have always offered a challenge that they ask us for the underlying “why” when they don't get it. If we can’t come up with something solid to back it up, we will be willing to concede that it may be time to dispense with certain expectations.

And they have questioned many things. One biggy was the expectation that they write timely thank you notes, a longstanding non-negotiable in our household. This practice is easy to defend because thank you notes serve the practical purpose of confirming to the giver that their gift was received. But they offer so much more. And giving my children the opportunity to question their relevancy provided a wonderful chance to share this with them. The few minutes it takes to dash off a note of thanks moves them beyond themselves. It provides them with the opportunity to acknowledge and appreciate the other person in the equation. It fosters a sense of gratitude. This is the kind of stuff we are looking to encourage.

We live in an increasingly interconnected universe. Growing to see beyond our own egocentric selves is a basic validation of others that can promote goodwill and also up the odds that things will go well with our social interactions. There is nothing antiquated about that.

Speaking courteously to one and other, properly disposing of trash in a public places, being mindful of our cell phone conversations when we are out and about, these things remind us that we live in a world larger than ourselves. By acting with an appreciation for others we can elevate a situation and hone the interpersonal skills necessary for healthy relationships. I find it interesting that while good manners appear to be in short supply these days, there seems to be an overwhelming preoccupation in our culture with being accorded respect. We all want it, but we’re so busy demanding it there is often little room for reciprocity.

This has confirmed to my husband and me the wisdom in helping our kids appreciate the underpinnings of the courtesies we expect them to employ. By doing so we hope to help them mature into thoughtful individuals who can appreciate the importance of treating others with the kind of consideration they would like to be extended. Really we’re just working on the Golden Rule.

A rapidly changing technological world has fundamentally altered the manner in which we interact with one and other. Times have changed and I am willing to change with them. But I am not willing to allow the lowest common denominator of human behavior to dictate the quality of life in our household. I will not send my children out into the world without a healthy appreciation for the importance of conducting themselves with self-respect and with respect for others. I want them to learn empathy. I want them to be kind.

I see no sense in subscribing to an arbitrary set of rules intended to govern social interactions. That seems hollow and meaningless. But I do think it makes a great deal of sense to think through, personally and as a family, the values we subscribe to, the manner in which we would like to be treated, the way in which we want to operate in the world. And then make that the standard for our own behavior. The world would be a truly lovely place if we all gave this a shot. But it can be a unilateral endeavor. We are free to choose our own walk. We can be the change we want to see happen.

Stuff I Like: Bananagrams

My best friend is an old school gamer. She loves games. You know, board games of the Pictionary and Trivial Pursuit variety. She coerces me into playing occaisionally, and I have found that once I get going I remember what fun they can be. But at our house the thought of hauling out a board game and rallying the troops usually sounds like one step too many by the time evening rolls around. The mere suggestion always provokes groans and protests. Forced fun. Mom trying too hard.

But then my friend sent us the game Bananagrams. My daughter liked the little yellow canvas banana-shaped case, even though she felt sure it was nothing more than a clever recepticle for Scrabble, a game I can get no one around here to play.

And Bananagrams is somewhat like Scrabble in that it is premised on making words with letter tiles. But the similarities end there. In Bananagrams each player makes their own word grid, going up or down, side to side. Even words spelled backwards count. You can substitute letters, switch things out as you go, and even scrap your whole puzzle to start again if you think it will help (and it sometimes does!).

I can’t explain why it is more fun, but the consensus at my house is that it is. It is fast. It is silly and it is portable. We killed time in an airport recently playing bananagrams. I believe that the other passengers-in-wait were jealous.

You can pick this game up at Target, among other places, and it makes a great emergency birthday gift. I love how surprised one of my son's friends was when he realized the huge kick you could get from a game that does not have a joystick. Imagine!

I Don't Want to "Go There"

My hard headed, short-sighted, but otherwise lovely daughter does not seem interested in the great advice I have to give her.
I am trying to talk with her about the importance of asking herself the “big questions”, of getting clear about what she values, how she wants to walk through this world, who she chooses to be. I wish that someone had taken the time to get to know and understand me so well when I was a kid, and challenge me to get to know and understand myself. Imagine where I could be now!

I was raised by wonderful parents who could not have loved me more, but I don’t think that getting to know my unique self felt like a part of their parental job description. I am probably much like most every parent who has come before me in that I am trying to get this parenting thing “more right”. And so I take with me the bits from my own childhood that blessed me and augment them with pretty much the rest of what I wish had been part of the mix. I am flummoxed by my daughter’s resistance to my insightful support. Can’t she see how lucky she is to be given such sage advice?

But just as I prepare to give full vent to my frustration I am reminded of a wise friend who has taken the time to get to know my unique self, and to offer me some gentle words of wisdom. The truth that we have to share with others, she suggests, is usually first meant for ourselves. Oh. The mere thought of having to turn my own words on myself is enough to make me want to clean out a closet or organize the spice rack. Anything but become reflective, the thought of which makes me squirm. To quote my mother’s favorite phrase, “I do not want to go there.” Hmmm.

I realize that asking myself the big questions, which are usually the most basic questions, requires that I reflect upon my values and priorities, on my hopes for the future – and the gap between them and how I walk through my everyday life. It’s that gap that makes me squirm. It is indicting and, well, I just don’t want to go there.

Big picture reflection takes me way out of my comfort zone. It opens me up to the possibility of taking risks, and of failure. I may look silly. It may be hard. Accountability will be involved. So much easier to weed through my emails or sort the recycling. Much easier to give advice than to take it.

Over two thousand years ago the Greek philosopher Socrates stated that, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” confirming the wisdom of the advice I offer my daughter. But coming face to face with my reticence to apply these words to my own life helps me to empathize with her. And all of the things vying for our attention in this media saturated, multi-tasking, technology laden world provide an additional layer of white noise between us and the space we need to live intentional, thoughtful lives. I am reminded of the airplane analogy of putting on our own oxygen masks before we may assist others. I guess I’d better tend to myself first.

And so, before I start on her again, I am going to suck it up and check in with myself to see how my walk and my talk are measuring up. We may live in unprecedented and unrelenting times, but the truth of Socrates words will never become obsolete. In fact, it may be more important than ever now.

Too Much Texting

I have decided that unlimited texting is like an all-you-can-eat buffet. It is rarely a good idea to get your money’s worth.

This prompts me to review the plethora of strategies I have amassed over years of watching my waistline. They seem to fall into two basic categories: Be Intentional and Practice Moderation. Sounds like good advice for healthy eating and for healthy texting to me. Problem is, while self-regulation is tough for adults, it is a really tall order for our kids.

Much has been written about the dangers of excessive texting. Concerns run the gamut from cyber-bullying to text-related driving accidents. What I routinely observe is kids who may be physically present but often seem checked out, inhabiting a private, virtual world in the midst of the world in full swing around them. I see kids at parties, surrounded by food, festivities and friends; heads down, typing away. I watch adolescents in groups, sitting cheek to jowl, immersed in their own separate worlds; heads down, typing away. That they are often texting each other would be funny, if it didn’t feel sort of sad. And when, at a Super Bowl party, I observed a middle schooler I know continuously texting with a friend who had seats on the 50 yard line at the big game, it made me wonder what could ever be compelling enough to entice them to actually be present.

I wonder how a texting generation will develop the social maturity and interpersonal skills necessary to navigate complex relationships down the line. True, a lot has changed since I was growing up with only a family based land line – and a cord to tether me to the phone. But I imagine that at some point most kids will probably still choose to marry and start families of their own. How will they be prepared to work out the awkward bits, the nuances of intimate relationships, without the trial and error of uncomfortable adolescent conversations?

I imagine that I would likely have defaulted to texting myself at that age, given the chance. The mere memory of social gaffs I committed on the patchy road to increasing relational maturity is still enough to make me wince. But there seem to be few shortcuts in life worth taking. Fast forwarding to the kind of faux intimacy that texting seems to foster cannot result in expedited maturity. But I worry that it can leave kids with an unseen and unfortunate gap between an impressive façade of pseudo-sophistication and the reality of truncated social/emotional development.

We know a lot more about the human brain than we used to. The frontal lobe, responsible for self-regulation and decision making, does not appear to fully mature until the age of twenty-one or twenty-two. To augment our children’s still-evolving decision making skills we must be willing to step in.

When children are little we set sane bedtimes, knowing that few would tuck themselves in at a reasonable hour. We provide healthy meals, knowing that left to their own devices many kids would live on french fries and skittles. Adolescents need us in different ways, but their need is no less real. My husband and I have decided to limit our kids to the 250-texts-a-month plan for now. Is this decision draconian? Possibly. Is it subject to change? Absolutely. But it feels like a sane place to start.

There is no “right” way to address such issues. Helping guide our children through the tricky waters of adolescence requires that we pay attention, that we do our best to know who they are, and who they are becoming. We cannot be dogmatic. We have to be willing to grow right along with them, making adjustments along the way. And until their frontal lobes catch up with the rest of their growing selves, we must be willing to set reasonable boundaries and be parents.

The More Things Change...

I knew that my request for help downloading photos would meet with some serious eye rolling. I just wasn’t prepared for it to come from my twelve year old. It has long been clear to her, and to her older brother and sister, that I am the most technologically challenged member of our household. My ineptitude is composed of equal parts incompetence and disinterest. And I take little comfort in knowing that I am not the only such parent, a floundering “technological immigrant” outnumbered and often outsmarted by the twelve and fourteen and sixteen year old “technological natives” under my roof.

Observing the ways in which my children deftly navigate any device that requires recharging or rebooting intimidates me. They scorn instruction manuals and can troubleshoot almost any computer glitch I throw at them in a way that borders on organic. They live in a world that I struggle to keep up with. It is the only one they know. And this world affords them more autonomy, more privacy, more unfettered access to more information than I could ever have dreamt of as a kid. Sometimes it seems as if the best approach to take with them may simply be the path of least resistance; admit that they inhabit a mysterious world, step aside, and hope for the best.

This seems to be a rather popular mode of parenting these days. Really smart, loving and well-intended adults I know seem to feel that they have become somewhat superfluous in their children’s lives. They are intimidated by a savvy and sophistication their kids exhibit that is well beyond their years. But I am being led to a very different conclusion.

My suspicion is that while much has changed, much more has not. Increasingly rapid technological advances have dramatically impacted the way in which we navigate life, but I know that the human brain has not been rewired in a generation. So, if we as adults find it challenging to assimilate the onslaught of information and technological advances impacting us every day, how much more confusing must this be for our children?

This brave new world may be here to stay, but finding support and guidance to help me as I attempt to help my children utilize technology in healthy and positive ways can feel elusive. I am having a hard time simply finding others willing to question the premise that if it’s all out there, it must all be okay. It seems to me sometimes as if the technological tail is wagging the dog.

It also seems to me that parents have a bigger job now than ever, as we are called to help our children reconcile the unrelenting world around us with the space we all need to grow and just to be. But we must be willing to engage with our children in new ways if we hope to come along side them in helping to make healthy, discerning, intentional choices.

There is no roadmap for this because we are pioneers. We must be willing to envision something altogether new. The days of “Father Knows Best” are long gone. But the importance of being a credible presence in our children’s lives has not. At the most basic level I think that we must be willing to remain connected, to be present, and to be honest enough to concede that we do not have all the answers.

Perhaps just a willingness to ask the hard questions is a good place to start.