Natal Days

My son turned 14 years old today. He woke up to presents and his choice for breakfast. A month from now his sister will turn 11 and it will be her turn for presents and special meals. My mother used to say, in jest, that my sister and I should give HER presents on our birthdays. After all, she was the one who went through labor to have us. Now that I have children I understand. But then seeing my children grow in confidence and grace is the greatest gift of all. And I know my mother would agree.

Happy birthday, Doodle.

Domino Theory

My daughter's school had a speaker last week who advised the children not to be afraid to make mistakes. "Always try new things and don't be afraid to fail," she said. Parents say that to children over and over again. "Just do your best," we say. However, as parents we'd rather chew glass than see our kids fail. We fix their homework before they turn it in. We drive them back to school to retrieve a needed book. We deliver their forgotten lunch. We negotiate with teachers over grades. And we choose what they attempt. That's the most dangerous part.

We can't let them fail, because they'll lose their place in line. It's a domino effect. If my child doesn't start achieving early on in the game, he or she will never catch up. My daughter has a friend who has been going to a pitching coach since he was in third grade. There are jumping coaches (coaches to help refine a basketball player's jumpshot) for elementary school kids! How do children learn to achieve? By specializing at earlier and earlier ages. The time when kids would play a different sport in each season is gone. Year-round sports teams are the way to guarantee success.

But whose success? The parents who push them into activities and sports that will put them onto a path leading to scholarships, good jobs and ultimate happiness? Or the children who are being denied the chance to try different paths and to fail at some of them?

The dominos are already lined up.

South Park v. King Kong

I substituted in a fifth grade class recently. While taking attendance I asked each student to name his or her favorite TV show. I've done this before. Their choices always give me an instant insight into the kids and what kind of home life they have. Because what kind of home allows its children who aren't over 11 years old to watch South Park, Family Guy or even The Simpsons? Just because they are cartoons doesn't make them all right for kids.

When I told the class that I thought South Park was inappropriate for fifth graders, they jeered. "But it's a great show!" I might try to comfort myself and say they're too young to understand most of the humor, but I'm not comforted by the fact that they're witnessing egregious examples of disrespect for adults, each other and themselves.

Then yesterday I substituted in a kindergarten class. The boy who had no impulse control whatsoever, the boy who had dark rings under his eyes, volunteered that his favorite movie was "King Kong." He said he had watched the DVD several times and even had the videogame. I asked him if the movie scared him at all. "No, but the ending made me cry. King Kong dies, you know." I told him my daughter who is in fifth grade was not allowed to watch the movie because it was rated PG13. The boy then said that there was nothing wrong with the movie-- "just a few cuss words. My mom let me watch it. She doesn't care."

Honey, you said a mouthful.

Apron strings

My son is in Washington DC with his class on a school trip. When it was offered back in the fall, the trip was billed as being not only an educational opportunity, but a way for the students to grow in independence and build their confidence. My husband and I bought into it and slapped down the deposit. What parent doesn't want his or her child to be independent and confident?

So now our son (all of 13 years of age) is on the other side of the continent without us. It occurred to me only now while he's gone that the trip is not just for the children. There is a hidden benefit to taking our adolescent children and sending them far away for spring break. Mommy and Daddy are learning to be independent and building confidence. We are learning to be independent of our child whom we have depended on as a source of pride, self-worth and, at times, amusement. We are becoming confident that not only will our son be able to function in the world without us at his side, but that we will be able to function without him. I wrote that last sentence and stared at it for a long time. I'm not sure I ever want to be that confident.

While our children may cut the apron strings that tie themselves to us, we as parents can never, ever do the same to them.

Living with cancer

I hate to read obituaries that say "he lost his battle with cancer." It makes the person sound like if he had just tried a little harder he might have survived. No one says of a man hit by a car, "he lost his battle with a drunk driver." No one says a woman who had a stroke "lost her battle with a blood clot." In any case, no one ever gets out of here alive.

I never knew what "living with cancer" meant until my husband was diagnosed. While it seemed at first that his cancer would consume us, that every waking moment of every day would somehow relate to his cancer, "living with cancer" has indeed become our way of life. It is not our choice. We live with cancer. We manage cancer. But we don't battle cancer. Life should not be a battle; otherwise, why live it?