Electronics Free Week? OMG!

See these lovely, voluminous elephant ears? The beauties reside outside our front entrance, eager to greet our scant visitors. Sorry to wallow in my conceit, but every year I attempt to grow these most awesome of plants and fail miserably. And at the beginning of this summer season, it had appeared I was en route to do the same. The plant was gangly. Almost dead. I was heartbroken.

Isn't that what we always do when something doesn't work out? Just keeping doing the same thing? Waiting for a better result? Then, we bitch.


But I did something different. I changed the location. I starting talking to the lovely greenery with each nightly watering. And voila. Finally, results that exceeded my expectations!

Doug and I have been quite annoyed with our children's seeming addiction to all things electronic. WAIT! Aren't we the parents? Don't we have the right of rescission?  Yes. Yes, we do.

So, next week will be declared E-Free week! No computer, DS, phone, TV (very limited anyway) or WII. And it will be hotter than Hades outside! What will these kids do???? I'm sure the first order of business will be to....mope.  I've always bragged on their creative minds. Let's just see them prove me right.

Lessons from the Tiger Mom

My apologies to you sixteen loyal readers of this blog. Undoubtedly, I’ve been a bit remiss in writing. Between nursing headaches (weather fronts wreaking havoc in the cornbelt), not dusting the house, and resolving to be a diligent organizer of tax receipts in 2011; apparently, I’ve also been ruining my kids by coddling them. Anyone heard of Amy Chua, aka, The Tiger Mom? If you haven’t, you might want to join the discussion. It’s great fun. Check out these two disparate point of views if you're so inclined: Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior and In Defense of the Guilty, Ambivalent, Preoccupied Western Mom  These are GREAT articles, so if you don't have time, save for later... (BTW, remind me to take lessons on book publicity from Amy C.)

The Chinese Mother. Pushing her kids to relentless practice of math and music to achieve excellence clearly beyond the American couch potato. But is it too much? (Statistics say suicide rates among the Chinese teens run highest.) But who can't help but be a bit envious of the over-achievers? They’re like, so smart. And good at stuff. Ms. Chua argues that perhaps Westerners spend too much time working with their kids on things like “sports.” Hmmm. I don't even fit the typical Westerner mold. As I read her article, I, of course, was wondering how my kids would fare in a Chinese household. But now I know they'd barely make it in a typical Western household either! They'd be like "Practice shooting baskets? Why?" As a matter of fact, a request to unload the dishwasher seems to be grounds for calling 911. I could just see it. "We have a possible child abuse case on our hands. The mom just ordered the Pots and Pan cycle." Gheesh.

The bottom line is - it's tough, no matter if you're a Tiger Mom, or a domesticated tabby cat. You want your kids to be their best, so you tend to push. The question of the hour - how hard? I, myself, have looked at my daughter in askance* for receiving a minus on an "A." Maybe it's just because I see her doing things like posting comments on Facebook...while working on a tough math assignment. Those are the times my Tiger comes out. But I must admit, more often than not, it's the kitten that comes out...because gosh, that's how I was raised.

I love how my friend Amy, mother to FIVE, explains her mothering skills to her eldest child when she complains of a particular injustice that doesn't seem to come down to the younger siblings. "Don't you see, Lexi? I'm not gonna screw up the younger kids." That's good stuff.

Here's a revelation: Parents aren't perfect. Whether you push your kid to be the best soccer player in the world, study spelling words with them until midnight for six months out of year, or you let them achieve the highest levels in Assassin's Creed, who cares? I truly believe, that the very best we can do, at any time, for any reason, is love your kids with all your heart. Period. I think Amy Chua would agree with that.

Happy kids. Tired dog.

*See my son Cole for this definition.

Guess What?

So, Lyn and I were having lunch the other day...(yes, we actually figured out a a time to have lunch! We had a 2009 resolution to meet at least once a month, but I think that might have been the third time for the year...) Anyway, we were talking about our kids' reaction to their Christmas gifts, SINCE for some reason neither of our sets of kids got everything they asked for. Guess what? They survived! And they seemed to appreciate the gifts they did receive a little more than usual.

While I must admit that I was somewhat spoiled being an only child; however, I didn't get everything I asked for. (Lyn reminded me of my daunting desire for a Barbie Townhouse. Thank God she got one...otherwise I might have never known the pleasure. Please, don't cry.) At the time, it seemed unfair, merciless that I might not get absolutely every Mattel toy that flashed on the TV screen. But looking back, I'm glad I grew up in household that had to pinch pennies.

So how do we engrain this sentiment to a generation of kids who rarely go without?

Hmmm. Let me think. Wait! Doug knows this better than I! Just say NO. Remember that slogan? I believe it was to keep our generation from doing drugs. Now, we need to reignite the slogan...only to unspoil our Millennial children.

Once Upon a Full Moon

Once in a great while, we are not exasperated by obligation. The house is clean (enough). Rain prevents one from operating the combine. Children's activities are not penciled on the calendar. AND (this is key), I don't drive everyone crazy attempting to plan the perfect family weekend.

Luckily, I've been just getting over some cold-like illness and my engine has lacked a little fuel. So, I pretty much let the weekend run its course without my usual interference. It's been quite delightful. A couple of highlights:

*Slept fairly late both days.
*Caught a movie that has made me giggle all weekend (The Invention of Lying...if you're a fan of Ricky Gervais, you'll like it.)
*Indulged my magazine addiction...even purchased the People Style Watch edition.
*Put aside a novel called STILL ALICE, which happens to be scaring the begeezus out of me...the main character is diagnosed with Ahlzeimer's at a very young age...
*Told my hubby I wanted a real book case for Christmas. (Have I ever mentioned my book case story? Perhaps I'll save for a later blog post.)

But the best part of the weekend? My kids came together in unison to create a delightful afternoon of carving pumpkins. There were hardly any accusations of copyright violations and the pumpkins turned out quite adorable...Ahhh yes, see what happens when I stay clear of planning? Remind me next weekend...

Guest Blogger: Alexandria Kramer

As some of you may know, I have just turned 12 (finally!). For my birthday I had an “Audrey Hepburn” theme. Why may you ask? I have become fascinated with Audrey and how she was such a great actress (I even wrote a speech on her). So anyway, for my birthday, all the girls and I dressed up in dresses and I made hats for everyone, which was very fun! We also rented a ’72 Black Cadillac and picked everyone up in it. Fun, right? Did I mention that my Dad was the chauffeur? Before anyone asks, no he did not where a suit no matter how much I asked. After we had picked up everyone and took like a mil-lion pictures (not really! More like 15…), we went over to the Country Club and had a “formal dinner”. Wink, wink. It included sparkling grape juice and Virgin Daiquiris! We were so noticed, that some people came in and we modeled for them! And guess who was there? Dr. Scott Markham, the doctor who delivered me (a little bit embarrassing but I got through it). After that little affair, we drove home in the Caddy, and played Catch Phrase while my Mom and Dad returned the Caddy. It took them like a gazillion years to get back so we could eat cake! Ugh! But they FINALLY got back and we ate cake and opened presents! Which I got some awesome gifts, I think… (We were all still a little woozy from the Virg… I mean Daiquiris). Anyway we had a great time! Maybe next year will be even better! NOT!

Note from Editor: The daiquiries were most certainly virgin and the reason it took Mom and Dad so long to get back is because we were visiting with Roger and Jane, whom we rented the 72 Caddy. And please note that Alex made all of the hats herself!

Easter Egg Journal

Sunday Evening, 7:30 p.m.
“Mom, can we decorate our eggs now?”
“Not yet. I’ll hard boil the eggs right now and we can do it tomorrow night.”

Head goes down in dejection.

Monday Evening, 5:35 p.m. (shortly after arriving home)

“Mom, can we decorate our eggs now?”
“After I change and we finish supper.”

Head goes down in dejection.

6:37 p.m.
“Mom, can we decorate our eggs now?”
“After dishes are cleaned up. Hey, where are you going? You can help!”

6:45 p.m.
The egg decorating begins…Everyone is happy…

“I want black!”
“Sorry, no black, Cole.”

Alex attempts to avoid multi-colored fingers. Cole doesn’t mind the variety.

“Cole! You already dyed your eggs. Those are mine!”

Happiness begins to wane. Pouting. Begging. Begging. Just one more egg. For goodness sakes Alex, let him have the last one. A small pout from Alex. A big smile from Cole. I tickle Alex. She smiles too.

Brilliantly-colored eggs with hearts from Alex.

Dark (not black) eggs with bats from Cole.

Only one dropped egg! Cole eats it immediately. What? You like them this year? Except for the mold around the yolk? That’s not mold, really. You want another? Let’s wait a little while. Two digested hard boiled eggs make for a long night.

Alex , like the polite lady she is, saves her egg for later.

7:23 p.m.

Now off to watch either baseball or pre-game basketball. With any luck, we won’t be smelling any egg farts tonight.

Pesky Little Brother

When I married Doug, I was aware that he was the youngest of five, with one older brother and three older sisters. It didn’t occur to me that I was marrying the little brother. The pesky little brother.

I’ve seen this phenomenon many times with my own children. Cole doesn’t receive enough attention from his older sister, so he uses annoyance tactics to get her undivided, albeit raging mad, attention.

“Alex! You love so and so…(fill in the blank with any boy’s name, works best with those she complains about most). You want to kiss him! You want to marry him!”

Only repeat that 56 more times and you have one completely irritated sister who is willing to chase her little brother to engage in a good battle. (This is, of course, Cole’s goal -- to be chased and to have it end in a wrestling match.)

But what happens to the little brother when he grows up and gets married? Apparently, he turns into Doug.

Don’t get me wrong. I love him with all my heart. But it occurred to me, as he continued to snap gum in my ear the other morning(knowing full well this is one of my greatest peeves), that my husband suffers from little brother syndrome. The clues?

 Consistently repeats a particularly annoying behavior only to get a rise out of me.
 Attempts to wrestle, despite the absence of aggression in the target.


How do I resolve this? Here we have a fairly aggressive, testosterone-laden youngest boy of five siblings, married to a fairly passive, testosterone-deficient only child?

Okay, don’t answer that. Get my nose out of books and computers and give him some undivided attention, right? I will, unless I have to stop Alex from beating up Cole.

Creative Parenting Techniques

When I was pregnant with my first child, I envisioned myself being the perfect mom. I would feed them well, dress them well and teach them many, many of life’s lessons.

Sometimes my best intentions turn awry. The whole feeding thing has been a disaster ever since they got off the bottle. Dressing them how I want them to look has turned into a challenge of unimaginable scale. But the teachings of life’s lessons are hit and miss. Take this week for example.

Alex calls me at work.

“Mom? I think Cole needs therapy. He’s scared of a butterfly! He said one chased him and he won’t go back outside!"

“Let me talk to him.” (Alex puts Cole on the phone.)

“Cole, don’t you know that butterflies are beautiful creatures sent from God? As a matter of fact, I wonder sometimes if butterflies are actually angels with their big, beautiful wings! And they fly so graciously, they must be angels! So, you see? There's nothing to be afraid of. Now, hug your sister and go back outside.”

I’m thinking I was pretty clever with this one. Cole will now always look at butterflies with thoughts of angels. He'll probably go on to tell his kids and grandkids the same story about butterflies being angels!

My cell phone rings 30 seconds later.

“Mom? What did you say to Cole? He's really crying now! He said the butterfly attacked his face.”

Oh boy. So he probably thinks that an angel from God was after him. I scared the poor little boy. Regroup. Think. Courage. This boy needs courage. Like the lion on the Wizard of Oz, which we just happened to watch Sunday night.(I hadn't heard Cole laugh so hard in a long time. And he wasn't at all scared of the flying monkeys. Go figure.)

“Alex, here's what you do. Dress him up in our lion's costume. Tell him he’s the lion on the Wizard of Oz. Then bestow the badge of courage on him. See if that works.”

And so it did. Well, at least it got him away from the scary butterfly for awhile.

My whole point is that sometimes my techniques work out. Sometimes they're a bitter failure. But even when I scare the crap out of them, my kids somehow always end up okay. And why is that?

Because the only responsibility that truly matters is to love them. I never screw that up.