Category Archives: No Regrets

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

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I’ve been thinking about the word respect lately.

My concentration around this word began following recent statements made by my six-year-old son to my husband and I.

“How dare you speak to me that way?” He responded after not getting something that he wanted (e.g. TV or a sweet)

“What the heck?” He responded after we told him we couldn’t accommodate his request (e.g. TV, play a game, etc)

Besides being momentarily dumbfounded by what he said, I responded each time saying, “We don’t talk that way to each other. We treat each other with respect.” Defining respect for him has been a bit more challenging.

The dictionary defines respect as:

Respect (Noun): A feeling of deep admiration for someone or something elicited by their abilities, qualities, or achievements.

Respect (Verb): Admire (someone or something) deeply, as a result of their abilities, qualities, or achievements.

I was brought up to respect my parents, but I hadn’t put too much thought into why, until my son responded this way. My sisters and I were spanked by our parents. Most of my friends growing up were spanked by their parents. Spanking was an acceptable way to discipline for many families in the ’70s. I’m thankful that is no longer the case.

We do not spank our children. I have never been comfortable with the idea of mixing actions like love and hitting together. It was very confusing to me why loving parents would spank a child.  Instead, we talk to our son and explain the situation about why we have to take an action or inaction to reinforce a desired behavior. I thought it was working until his outbursts occurred.

I’ve always respected my parents, but had to think about why that was as a child.  Was it because I admired them for their parenting abilities or because I was scared that if I didn’t respect them I would get spanked? I’m certain it was a mixture of both. I knew my parents loved me. They showed me that in tangible ways—hugs, kisses, cheers and time. The spanking scared me. It hurt and the pain endured often felt disproportionate to what I was being punished for.  It kept me inline, but at an unquantifiable emotional and physical cost.

I don’t want my children to associate needing to experience physical harm to learn a positive lesson together. Spanking will not ever be part of my parent rearing equation. But how do you teach your child respect?

I talk to my boys about respect and treating each other with kindness. Listening to each other, responding with consideration and care. I will never embarrass them knowingly, shame them or lie to them. I will continue to explain things to them and help them make the connection between the action and the consequence (positive or negative). I have a saying I use with my boys: “If I ask you for something its for one of three reasons. I’m trying to teach you something. I’m trying to keep you safe, or I need your help.”

I’m not sure respect can be taught. I believe it’s earned, and I’m hopeful in time my boys will come to respect my husband and I for raising them the way we are and will.  In the interim, I’m working to stick to what I believe is key: being consistent and practicing patience. I’m hoping to be an expert in patience by the time they are teenagers. I hear we’ll be in for quite a ride by then.

How are you experiencing respect in your life?

Can You Read This?

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There is no denying it, I’m getting older. We all are, of course, but I think I’ve been in a bit of denial for the past 41 years. I’m aware I’ve been aging, particularly over the past few years, but for the most part there were only minimal signs, a word or name I couldn’t instantly recall, or an attempt to type a word only to look up at my screen and realize I’d written something completely different.  Now it seems the physical signs are everywhere: lines on my face that don’t go away regardless of the amount of product I put on, more and more time and money at the hairdresser’s, having to hold the menu away from my face just a little bit further to read the words. The most recent assault was when I tore the cartilage in my knee when I released the footbrake in my car. Are you serious? I thought after it happened. This kind of stuff only happens to—gulp—old people!

But this is my reality now. With each passing year, I’m aware that a few more lines will creep up on my face, I will continue to spend more and more money at the hairdresser’s, I’ll eventually need reading glasses, and my body will suffer injuries caused by seemingly minor physical activity (egads!).

I’m not happy about any of this, but I can’t say I’m mad either. A little disappointed, maybe.  I somehow convinced myself growing up that when you get “old”, (and mind you, with each passing year what I consider old moves up) you just naturally come to terms with your inevitable decline and are at peace with it. I realized this wasn’t necessarily true when I watched a 2011 documentary on Gloria Steinem called In Her Own Words onHBO. The seventy-seven-year-old Steinem says something to the effect of not being ready to slow down because she enjoys living too much.  Her admitting that made me cry. I feel the exact same way, and I suspect I will in my 50s, 60s, 70s and so on, assuming I’m fortunate to live that long.

For me, life is always an adventure. I love to try new things, meet new people and have new experiences, to learn and grow.

I’m working hard to do whatever I need to do to live a long and healthy life. Mostly this doesn’t mean doing anything extreme, just having some common sense: eating healthy foods, getting regular exercise, and finding ways to relieve my stress any way I can by going to the spa, spending time with my girlfriends, or relaxing with my husband.

Life can be hard, but I’ve really enjoyed the ride so far and want to stick around for as long as I can. It’s not because aging, or even death, scares me. I want to live just for the joy of it.

What is your child’s currency? What’s yours?

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We implemented a reward system for our boys when my oldest son was around three. For every task or chore he completed, we would reward him with a sticker. When he had accumulated ten stickers he could turn them in for a reward: a small toy, game or book. Rewards like these work to a certain degree with both children, but I’ve realized over time that there are other things my children value beyond these prizes—like watching TV and playing Legos—and that allotting them extra time for these things could be just as effective as a reward. My husband and I work hard to teach our children not only skills like reading and math but manners, responsibility and accountability. We also want to teach them confidence in their ability to get what they want via hard work.

When I was growing up, I was given an allowance starting around age seven. It was modest to begin with (fifty cents a week) and then over time it increased. By the time I was in high school, I was getting twenty dollars a week and was required to complete all of my household chores to receive it. I was also expected to spend my allowance wisely. My family was on a budget so there wasn’t additional “fun” money given out if I blew my twenty dollars. My dad did also give us a clothing allowance of seventy-five a month which was for everything: socks, undergarments, shirts, shoes, accessories, etc. which meant that if we wanted one hundred fifty dollar jacket, we had better save up for it! It really gave me an appreciation for the concept of earning money and spending it wisely.  When I look back on those years, it wasn’t the money that served as the biggest motivator but rather the expectations of my parents. My parents set a high bar and I was forced to work hard to meet it. In the end, I really learned something about my own values and abilities and it gave me a tremendous sense of self-confidence.

With my children, I continue to ask myself if the reward system we’re using is working. Our children’s currency won’t always be stickers, TV, books or games (though some may stay in rotation for a long while). We’ll have to continue to understand what our children’s currency is and adjust accordingly. More importantly, we need to set the right expectations and be consistent—not always easy to do when we’re all so busy.

It got me thinking about what currency I use for rewarding myself as an adult. We look to different things as rewards as adults: a bigger paycheck, more time with our spouse or children, maybe just more time for ourselves. And often, (just like we learned to do as children) we feel best about these rewards when we feel we’ve done something to earn them.

Just as we have to understand what really motivates our children to be able to teach them responsibility and hard work, so do we need to understand what motivates us.

What are the rewards that really matter to you and what are you doing to get them? What is the cost (monetary, mental or emotional) for the things you want? How hard are you willing to work?

None of these are easy questions to answer, but they’re important ones. Know your child’s currency and better understand them; know your own currency and better understand yourself.

The Case for the 16 oz. Soda

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Have you heard all the fuss? Mayor Bloomberg of New York City plans to limit the cup size of soda served to a customer to 16 oz. This is getting people all up in arms with arguments from this will impede on their personal freedoms, it’s Big Brother-like, or stating the obvious, this won’t solve the larger problem—please refer back to previous blog that focused on the HBO documentary The Weight of the Nation.  In truth, while the cup size might be changed, a customer could get multiple servings and unlimited refills, if desired. So if you are really, really thirsty, you can get all the soda you want!

As a parent, I appreciate the Mayor putting this out there for discussion. I’m disappointed it’s getting so much negative feedback, particularly when we can see so many people, children in particular, at increased weights. This isn’t about the negative stigma we still associate with being “fat.” This is about helping consumers, including our children, who are relying on adults to guide them, to make healthier (I’ll even suggest better) choices.

When I was a kid, we would go to McDonald’s on occasion to eat. My husband and I were reflecting on cup sizes back then. A small was indeed, small. Medium was indeed, medium. Large was indeed, you can see where this is going, large.  In fact, I can recall my two sisters and I would get one large root beer drink to share between the three of us on road trips—three of us shared one large drink.  Seems unimaginable now.

Politicians are taking stands ranging from “…this is a good way to help educate people on making better food choices” to “don’t we have bigger issues to focus on?”  The last part kills me. Are there bigger issues, really? Were they even aware of their words? Shouldn’t our country’s citizens including our children’s health, be a top priority? We have these debates about healthcare in our country, and who should pay, but aren’t willing to discuss some potential steps, like limiting the size of soda served, in helping address the problem?

My children don’t drink soda, but I know one day they will. I am for returning to the smaller serving sizes of soda if it helps my children, their peers and our country take a step towards being a little more knowledgeable and a little healthier. I’m thankful for this recent study that shows sensible ways for parents to cut their child’s soda intake. I’m all for anyone who cares about my health and my families from researchers, doctors to Mayor Bloomberg.

Weighty Issues

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My passion for learning new things has always given me a yen for documentary films. I’ve found several captivating documentaries over the years on HBO and I discovered another this past week when I watched The Weight of the Nation. This much-buzzed-about documentary focuses on the reality of weight in our nation, what has caused the obesity epidemic and what that can be done to combat it. The film shared tremendous insight into the disastrous lifestyle changes the U.S. has undergone over the past few decades, adopting an ever more sedentary lifestyle and a diet that has become ever more abundant, processed and heavily marketed.

This film spoke to me on many levels: as a woman who has battled with her own weight and as a parent. I’ve struggled with maintaining a steady weight since childhood so I’m always looking for perpecitve on all that I have tied up in the issue. Eating is a complex thing. We need to do it for energy, but it goes way beyond mere sustenance as we also eat for pleasure, comfort or just out of boredom.  As a child, it’s difficult, if not impossible, to understand this complexity. For many years I would beat myself up and think what’s wrong with me, why can’t I beat this? I would constantly tell myself what I could and couldn’t eat and if I ate something I wasn’t supposed to, I would mentally rake myself over the coals thinking where’s your self control? you’re an embarrassment, etc.

Thankfully as an adult a nutritionist finally challenged me on the benefit of beating myself up. “Does beating yourself up over this yield any positive results?” she asked,  “Are you losing weight as a result or feeling any better about yourself afterwards?” The answer of course was “no.” Anyone who has struggled with their weight is probably accustomed to this guilt trip but the truth is, if beating yourself worked, we’d all be thin.

Like any parent reflecting on something that’s brought her misery, I don’t want my children to go through what I went through. My husband has been naturally thin his entire life and I’ve prayed many nights that my children will inherit his metabolism (which they seem to have done thus far). My husband and I try hard to be conscientious about eating healthy food and we do a pretty good job for ourselves but there is room for improvement with the kids, a fact that hit home after watching the documentary. I sat there the next morning watching my children eat their breakfast—mini pancakes, toaster waffles and cereal—and wondering if I was doing right by them. We’ve certainly set our kids up with some good habits, we talk to our children about getting vitamins and minerals and we never have them clean their plates the way I was told to as a child; they’re only required to make a good dent in their fruits and vegetables. They also drink far less juice than they used to, we split juice intake to 50% water, 50% juice both to promote healthy teeth and to avoid excess calories.

But alas, we’re not perfect. The challenges we face in feeding our children are common and myriad. Frankly getting the kids to eat anything can be a challenge (instead of their food palate expanding it appears to be contracting). They’re more likely to eat fish sticks, chicken nuggets, popcorn shrimp or mac n’ cheese than whatever lean protein my husband and I are having.  Vegetables are our one non-negotiable, they can have input into which vegetable they prefer—peas, carrots, sweet potatoes, broccoli—but they have to have something.  Snacks are a bit easier—it’s simple enough to give them an apple of banana– but there are plenty of pitfalls here too, like the “gummy” snacks from the store that aren’t labeled as candy, but may as well be. Our youngest son goes to a daycare that is near a great bakery and we go there once a week to let the kids buy treats. They enjoy it, but is it an innocent treat, or am I reinforcing a behavior of making unhealthy choices?

As a parent there are so many questions that we face every day: are our children getting the love and attention they need from us, are their basic needs being met, are we teaching them the right things, are we preparing them for the future? The question of what we feed them hits on all of these issues. I already understood that on some subconscious level, but watching such a powerful expose brought it to the forefront of my mind.

I am definitely rethinking what my husband and I feed our children and it’s clear we need to make some changes. Nothing radical, but we’re going to work to be more mindful of what we’re feeding the kids and why. Are we feeding them what they need, or just feeding them what they want? The point isn’t to beat ourselves up over it, as I said, we know that doesn’t work. I see this as an opportunity for us to reflect, recalibrate and feel more in control about the decisions we make about food for our children and for ourselves.

It’s heavy to think about, isn’t it?

You Don’t Love Me

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My son and I did some growing this past week. He did something I didn’t approve of and I could only get him to stop by threatening to take away a privilege if he didn’t. He got very upset, which caught me a little off-guard. It didn’t begin as a contentious conversation: I had spoken calmly and explained why we were having the conversation, what had happened, what needed to change going forward and why. He looked at with tears brimming at the edges of his eyes and said, “Mom, I feel like when you correct me you are saying you don’t love me.” Whoa, I thought, I did not see that coming. I could understand him getting upset that he might lose his toys or, getting upset that we were having a tense discussion but  thinking I didn’t love him? What was that about?

I took a deep breath.  I was suddenly reminded of something that had happened when I was eight years old. I had done something wrong and my punishment was to be spanked (spanking was commonplace when I was growing up) by my father. I recall getting called into my parents’ bedroom after my mom had debriefed my father on the situation. I reluctantly walked into their room and my dad was sitting in a chair by the side table. He looked like he was exhausted from work and disappointed that he now had to deal with an unruly child instead of getting to relax. I was normally a very timid child but something came over me that day and I told my father I hated him before he could even saying a word or lay a hand on me. He was shocked. “Why would you say that?” he asked to which I replied, “I know you enjoy spanking us.” Honestly, I’m not sure I even believed what I was saying, but since it was my parents’ choice to spank my sisters and I, I figured they must get some joy out of it. My father took me on his lap and said, “I don’t take any joy at all in spanking you. Do you know why your Mother and I do this?” I shook my head. He went on to explain, “We do this because we are trying to teach you a lesson. You broke a rule today, right?” I nodded my head. “And you know that if you do that it’s not acceptable, right?” I nodded my head again. “Well, your Mother and I have to do something about it, otherwise, what’s to stop you from doing it again?” This made the light bulb go on for me.  It was the first time I really understood why spankings in our house took place. It was a seminal conversation between my father and I and it changed our relationship going forward. I still ended up getting a spanking, but it was only a light tap on the behind. Honestly, that was the last time I can remember my dad spanking me. Maybe it’s simply my retroactive interpretation, but I think he knew the importance of making sure I understood what was expected of me and what would happen if I didn’t meet those expectations, it was clear we needed to communicate about what was happening and why.

Coming out of my reverie, I took another breath and told my son, “Honey, one of my jobs is to teach you things. I do this because I do care. I love you and I want you to be the best person you can be. If I didn’t care, I would let you do whatever you want whenever you wanted.” He got a big grin on his face similar to the look I must have had when the light bulb came on for me with my father. “Mom,” he said, “I love you.” “I love you too,” I said.

In the end I felt lucky to have had the opportunity for my son and I to better understand each other.

Happy Mother’s Day!

What Did You Say?

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I am constantly struck by the things my six-year-old son says. It started with sayings that just seemed a little old for him to be using like an indignant What the heck? or Come on! said in the tone of an athlete being wrongly accused of a foul.  My reaction is always the same:  “What did you say?” I ask, thinking where did he learn this? Of course, I do have some idea. The next most likely explanation is that our son’s new phrases are things he’s overheard either from my husband and I or from the older children he spends time with since he started elementary school. His new sayings are harmless for the most part and provide an opportunity for my husband and me to ensure that he actually understands the meaning of the words he says. We also work to explain how others may interpret what he’s saying. Honestly, we’re never sure how much is sinking in but we figure he’ll better understand what we’re teaching him over time (and repeating ourselves more than we’d like).

The other day my son and I were walking together and he suddenly said crap. I just about fell over. Crap was considered a bad word when I was growing up. If I had said it as a child, a good soaping of the mouth, a spanking or some other form of punishment would have ensued. It was considered foul language. Funny, when we think of what acceptable language is now versus back then.  After I collected myself (which probably took a good five seconds or so) I said, “What did you say?” My son looked at me with a quizzical expression and repeated “Crap?” We talked about why this wasn’t okay to say from a parent’s prospective. I told him that his father and I want people to take him seriously when he has something to say and not to dismiss his words, and that if he used bad words like crap, people were likely to do just that. Truthfully I don’t know that I’ll ever think its okay for a six-year-old to use this kind of language, no matter what society thinks is acceptable. It might be old-fashioned, but I really want my children to understand the power of their words, how they influence the way people see them and determine whether or not people will take them seriously.

It reminds me that even as an adult I need to be mindful of my words and recognize their power and influence, not only with my children, but with my spouse, friends and co-workers.  It’s sometimes easy to forget or think that whatever we want to say is acceptable because we’re adults but really it comes down to respect, respect for others and for yourself.

It occurred to me just how true this is when I was talking to a woman whose son is in the same soccer class as mine last week. She noticed that my son was upset over losing the game (her son was on the winning team) “It looks like the coach is having a sportsmanship talk with him,” she said. “He’s used to winning, he still struggles with losing,” I said, putting my foot in it before I could even think about how that sounded. What did I just say? I thought. This woman must think I’m the braggart parent of the year—my son is used to winning, who says that? How embarrassing!  Of course, we’re all guilty of saying things we regret. Upon reflection I should have just said, “he doesn’t like to lose.” Most people don’t—it’s not that big a deal.  It reminded me to think before I speak. I sometimes say things I didn’t mean or intend, but if I can think about my words before I say them, I’ll probably get them right the first time.

Miscommunication

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Our oldest son came home from school this past week with a copy of the beloved children’s book Where the Wild Things Are in tow. There was a sticky note attached to the book that let us know that our son needed to practice reading it because he would be doing a reading for citizens of a nursing home the following week.  My husband and I assumed that this meant he would be reading to an individual. We only found out afterwards that he had in fact read it to the larger group.  By wrongly assuming we had all the facts, we had missed out on our child doing his first solo performance. We felt awful! Though admittedly, I was far more disappointed in missing out on seeing how my son did than our son was.

The incident made me think about how I communicate, not only with the teacher at the school, but also with my children and my spouse. I learned an insightful lesson early in my career from my then boss who told me: when you assume you make an *ss out of u (you) and me. It’s all right there in the word itself, making the very concept of assumptions a tricky business. If I’d kept my boss’ golden rule in mind, maybe I would have asked my son the right questions and not missed his performance.

The incident got me thinking about other times I’ve wrongly assumed things. When our children were young for example, I assumed my husband and I would always magically be on the same page, that he would read my mind and automatically know the help I needed. He isn’t a mind reader though and he in turn assumed that if I need help, I would just ask. I also assumed that my efforts to be super-woman: perfect mother, working professional, housecleaner, cook, coordinator, etc—I was making everyone happy. In truth, I was taking too much on and no one was benefitting. When I finally took a closer look at how out of balance everything was, I saw the danger of this assumption.

My husband and I assumed we knew the whole story with the book reading. We should have spoken with the teacher and clarified what our son was participating in. It would have ensured that we didn’t miss out on this special event. I have to admit that it’s disappointing to know I’m still capable of these seemingly obvious mistakes as a mom, but I also realize I’m human, and that there is always the opportunity to grow.  I know I’m getting better at avoiding these situations, but realize situations like this will still come up from time to time. It would be wrong to assume anything else.

Tea Time Me Time

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Every morning I I make myself a cup of tea, it’s become something of a little ritual to give myself energy to begin the day. It’s both a treat (because I take it with both half and half and sugar) and a stimulant. I love tea. Hot tea or iced. Most of the day, you’ll see me drinking water or some form of tea. It wasn’t always this way.

Growing up in the South I was accustomed to drinking iced tea. With the consistently warm weather down there, hot beverages weren’t high on my list of things to drink any time of day. That changed when I attended a charity auction and participated in the silent auction. They had some perfume I really liked, that was part of a larger gift bag. I didn’t really care what else was in the bag, I just wanted the perfume.  I ended up winning the gift bag and when I opened it up when I got home and rifled through the contents, I found a gift certificate that included Tea-for-Two at a local tearoom. Mother’s Day was coming up in a few weeks, so I thought I would take my mom to the tearoom to celebrate.

I honestly thought high tea and tearooms were for ladies who lunch or people who had nothing better to do with their afternoons. I thought going to the tearoom was going to be a bit of a drag but I couldn’t have been more wrong. You get to dress up, sit with people you love and have good conversation, all while people serve you delicious food and endless cups of tea—what a treat! I had no idea a place like that could make me feel taken care of, pampered and reenergized.

Thus began my enduring love affair with the beverage. Now I try to go to tearooms as often as I can (though it’s never often enough) and I host tea parties for my girlfriends regularly where we chat for hours about work, our families and lives. I try to recreate a bit of that tearoom feeling, the joy I feel and the energy I get from going, each morning with my cup of tea. It’s a great reminder for me that I need to incorporate these types of rituals into my every day, if for no other reason than to reinforce to myself that I’m worth it. I’m a better Mom for it and better partner for it.

What rituals do you incorporate to take care of yourself on a daily basis?

What fills your soul?

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I used to play golf, I used to ski, I used to swim, I used to walk around the lake, in fact I used to do a lot of things back when I had lots of time for myself. That all changed when my husband and I had our first child. At first I tried to handle everything myself from feeding, dressing and changing the baby to cleaning the house and cooking food for the whole family. I nearly had myself convinced I was okay with trying to juggle everything at once but alas, after a few weeks I reached a breaking point and finally admitted to my husband that I needed help. I was miserable and didn’t really understand why. I had been told that being a mother was amazing and would be so fulfilling. There were definitely moments when it felt amazing but for the most part it just felt exhausting.

On top of this, I felt guilty for thinking it was exhausting. I wanted to be above being human and feeling exhausted. I wanted to be a super mom who could do it all and still have energy left to burn. As I was trying to figure out how to adjust to all this, a friend asked me a really important question: what gives you energy?  [Note: I’ve blogged about this before, but was reminded that I still have to be mindful of this!] Truthfully I’d never really thought of it, but it was a great question. In many ways, we’re like those ubiquitous smart phones that none of us can seem to live without. We depend on them for a variety of critical activities during the day, but also need to recharge them or they become useless. After thinking about the question again, I shared with my friend that I could tell them what sucked up my energy, but couldn’t come up with one thing that was recharging it.  I realized I had been giving all of my energy away and hadn’t taken the time to figure out how to get any of it back.

After some further reflection, I decided that in order for me to determine what could give me energy I needed to figure out what filled my soul. One thing came to mind right off the bat: talking to my husband about anything other than the kids or work like we used to do when we were dating. He and I had often remarked how nice it was and how connected we felt after one of these in-depth conversations. As I continued to seek out what filled my soul, I realized that connecting with others in general gave me a good deal of satisfaction, whether with girlfriends over dinner or tea or other new parents with whom I could share knowledge and hopefully help out.

I had the pleasure of spending a long weekend with some very dear friends recently. It’s an annual tradition that’s always a wonderful time for us to relax, connect and take care of ourselves without the stress of having to look after our families. I go home after our trip each year feeling full. I don’t have as much spare time as I used to so I have to take advantage of these opportunities to get back to myself, one recharge at a time.