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.