It happens every night.  Somehow, she shuffles around in her sleep, rolling into a little ball and piling the puffy down cloud on top of her into a mountain of coziness.  She’s deep underneath in her warm sweet slumber, and it’s my job to coax her out to greet the morning.

It’s my favorite part of the day.  After her brothers have caught the early bus and before the chaos of the day begins, just she and I steal a few precious moments of our own.  When I’ve planned it right, I slip in under the cloud and spoon around her, soaking in the radiant heat of her skin and the scent of her shampooed hair.  She mumbles a little and we snuggle as long as we can.

Has it really been almost nine years since I held this babe in my arms, nursing her to sleep, cherishing every moment with my last, littlest one? 

She’s not a babe anymore.  She’s lean and long.  I can’t reach the full length of her legs, and when she jumps into my arms, my back aches.  I catch my breath when she saunters up the stairs with a slight sway of her hips –not on purpose–  just naturally feminine. 

There’s trouble ahead; I’m sure of it.  The posturing and friendship dramas already flare upon occasion, and I have no doubt there will be more to come.   But there’s also great joy in the glimpses of profound thought and compassion that arise more often as she grows.  

I cannot stop the flow of time.  I don’t really want to. 

So today, I savor a snuggle with my baby girl.  I never know how many more mornings like this we’ll have.

This is part of Tuesdays Unwrapped at Chatting at the Sky.

SAW A BUG???  Call (not-to-be-named Exterminator)!

Think of the message this sends.  If I see a tiny bug, I should immediately freak out and call in the troops?  Even if it’s just a fly?  What if it’s a ladybug?  Have we gone so far that the sight of any bug should lead us to fog our house with pesticides, never mind the other risks of infusing this insect-killing chemical in our home?

Now let me be clear:  I’m no big fan of most bugs, and I’m not afraid to swat my shoe or pick up a can of Raid when the situation arises.  I did grow up in the New Mexico desert where tarantulas and scorpions visited upon occasion, and I did not enjoy it.  But I don’t want to overreact to every bug that flits by.  More importantly, I don’t want to teach my suburban kids to freak out at the sight of a benign bug.  That’s just silly.   They were here first, after all, and some bugs are meaner than others.  That’s my expert opinion on the biological technicalities.  For more information, check out Be Nice to Spiders, one of my favorite childhood books. 

Awhile ago, I witnessed a beautiful reaction to a bug “invasion” by my daughter’s second grade teacher.  A small, nondescript bug–it might have even been a spider–lighted on the shoulder of an oblivious student.  The other children began noticing and getting agitated.  When Mrs. K realized what was happening, she immediately stopped the class and said,

“Oh my goodness!   Look at this. . . you are so fortunate!   What an honor that he chose to land on you. . . let me just help you . . .” as she swept up the offending vermin with her bare hand, showed it to the children, pointed out its bug anatomy, walked to the door and gently released it outside. 

The children stopped in their tracks, instantly shifting from fear to fascination.  The targeted child never flinched and seemed privileged to be in the spotlight, rather than embarrassed.  They carefully observed the insect (or arachnid, I can’t quite remember) and actually learned something about it.  And they learned a critical lesson:  you don’t have to go into hysterics just because something unexpected happens. 

Insead of whipping up more fear, Mrs. K transformed the situation into an honor.  A great opportunity.  I’m so glad I was present for the lesson. 

photo credit: Claus Rebler

“I meet many parents who are trying so hard to be perfect parents, to make everything just right for their children, that they are draining away their pleasure in parenting.  They’re too exhausted and too unconsciously resentful to enjoy the amazing show of childhood. . .

. . . My advice to all of these parents is to tolerate some low-quality time.  Have a little less ambition for yourself and your children.  Plan nothing.  Disappoint your kids with your essential mediocrity and the dullness of your home.  Just hang around your children and wait to see what develops.  Strive to be a good enough parent, not a great one.  It can make everyone in the family relax, and paradoxically, make life richer.”

--from The Blessing of a Skinned Knee:  Using Jewish Teachings to Raise Self-Reliant Children by Wendy Mogel, Ph.D.

I print this not to be pessimistic, but with the hope of accepting and celebrating ourselves and our children right where we are. 

May we all remember to celebrate the joy of being good enough. 

Discuss.

Now that fall is approaching full swing, are you having conversations like this?

How was your day? fine.

What happened at school (or work)? not much.

Wanna talk about it? not really.

It seems like no matter how hard I try, those questions never seem to elicit much information, especially as my kids grow older.  A wise school counselor once suggested phrasing the question differently to draw out more of a response.  Just begin with “I wonder. . .” and ask about a more specific scenario: 

I wonder. . . who you sat with at lunch today?

I wonder. . . how things went in math class?

I wonder. . . what kids do before the first bell rings?

Somehow, when I phrase my questions this way, my kids want to fill in the blanks for poor, clueless, curious mom.  They begin to open up and I actually learn something about their world away from home.   We have a real, back and forth, give and take conversation.  Amazing.

Try it today! I wonder how it will work in your family?

For more great Works for Me Wednesday ideas, go to We are THAT Family.

A quick caveat:   I am very aware these dolls are expensive and some alternative brands will suffice.  I also understand there is plenty of consumerism, gender bias, and marketing manipulation involved.  Nevertheless, we planned ahead, fell in willingly, had a blast, and made some beautiful memories.

The highlight of the trip was allowing the girls to get their ears pierced, and –get this– piercing the dolls’ ears too.

My daughter had been begging to pierce her ears for months, but I hesitated.  My husband and I wanted our daughter to be old enough to take good care of her ears and her earrings.  I also wanted to make this strange ritual special.  I felt this need to protect her innocent earlobes from some cheap tryst in the back of a store that she might not remember tomorrow. 

So doing it with longtime family friends, with the added novelty of the dolls sharing the pain, seemed to qualify. 

We sprang the surprise idea on the girls, who were thrilled until we got to the store where ears get pierced.  Another girl had been stopping there for two days mustering up courage to do the deed.  One by one they sat on the throne and braved the puncturing with few tears, save one, who found her courage later in an ice cream sundae.  Finally, our girls smiled big, stood about two inches taller and celebrated their triumph.

The next day we headed to the American Girl salon to make sure the dolls weren’t left out of the fun.  We handed them over to the beauty technicians, who whisked them behind closed doors to drill holes in their lobeless heads lovingly pierce their little ears too.   Amazingly, we had no tears this time.

Freshly adorned with sparkly little studs, we went on our merry way to empty our wallets partake of the magic that is Chicago and American Girl.   More on that later.

Question for you:  How do you make little rituals something to remember?

I’ve never felt so hip at a second grade event.

We’ve been hearing about Mr. T’s poetry night for weeks.  Mr. T is KN’s cool student teacher:  a gentle giant with big hair, big hands, and a big heart for kids.  We’d received at least three kid-scrawled invitations:  a command performance for the family, and I have to admit, some of us weren’t super excited.    At least there would be food.

The dinner exceeded my expectations.  Mr. T and his parents(!)  prepared delicious homemade lasagna.  In class, the children frosted cupcakes (okay, those were just what I expected) and studied fractions while they cut the fruit salad.   While the guests enjoyed dinner, Mr. T. whisked the kids away to prepare for the poetry reading. 

When they were ready, Mr. T invited us into the classroom “the K-T lounge“.   Slow jazz infused the air.  Battery-powered candles and tasty finger foods graced the cloth-covered tables.  A cozy lamp, bar stool and microphone invited poets to the front stage.

Clearly this was going to be something special.

In the lamplight, those precious children moved us.  They made us laugh, cry, and hold our breath as they worked to get out the words.  Every child in this class of diverse abilities and resources excelled that night.  Their families swelled with pride, and so did the kids.

Mr. T., with support from his amazing mentor, Mrs. K., went far beyond the call of duty that night.  He set high expectations, created a special mood, involved the whole community, and made memories that will last a lifetime.  

Most importantly, he instilled a passion for poetry in twenty-something second graders.

I offer thanks to Mr. T, Mrs. K, and teachers who go far beyond expectations to make a difference.  May they inspire a passion for teaching and life long learning in the next generation.

Check out more inspiring tributes over here:

Not long ago, I was feeling hen-pecked.  Do you know the feeling?  Like everything I said or did was being corrected, or controlled, or re-directed, or commented upon.  It drove me nuts.

Until I realized it bugged me most because it was a reflection of my own behavior.  Isn’t that often the case? 

Yep, I’m really good at hen-peckin’.  I peck, peck, peck at my kids, my husband, and everyone around me.  I’m a control freak and perfectionist about some things, and I’m lazy about others.  So I want everyone around me to respond to my wise counsel about my persnickity things, but lay off of my lazy things.  I just want to relax sometimes, ya know?

So, after processing my annoyance, I offered thanks for the experience of being pecked-upon and made a vow to reduce peckin’ on my family.  I even started a post about it.  But I wasn’t making much progress.

Until I stumbled upon a lenten devotional about chickens, of all things.  Sheesh!  This verse  describes gathering the people “as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings“.   With love, and kindness, and comfort. 

It’s a different perspective for me.  I can still be a chicken (oh. . . I could go on with this metaphor. . .), but in a good way.    Now I can channel that peckin’ urge in a better direction. 

Cluck, cluck!

What about you?  Do you have any hen peckin’ tendencies?

Most parents in my workshops respond, “Good job!  Nice catch.  Beautiful picture.  Wonderful story.”

That’s okay, but it could be better.  I tend to hunger for more.  There’s a reason.

I’ve learned to think about two parts to every comment:

1. 1)  Our words (good job!)
2. 2)  The child’s internal words (”cool!” or maybe “whatever” or “not really“)

Which one carries more weight?  You got it — #2.  The internal words will create the tape that replays in her mind.  That’s the part that sticks.  We want to shape our praise so that she tells herself–internally–“I did a great job.” 

Typically, we evaluate or judge our child’s product or behavior (That’s “great”).  It may work temporarily, but for the long term we want our kids to evaluate on their own.   A confident person can self-evaluate without depending on someone else.  This is crucial in the teenage years, when peers become the ultimate resource.  Evaluations are also easy to discredit.  How many of us say, “This old thing?” when someone tries to compliment us?  Or when you tell a teen she’s beautiful or smart, does she believe it?

A better way:  Build confidence with evidence.  Use the phrase “I noticed. . .” 

Make your praise descriptive, like a video camera.  Notice the factual details, the effort, the steps toward success, and then replay it for your child. 

“I noticed you worked on catching that fish for 45 minutes.”  Then bite your tongue. . . and let the child think, “I’m persistent.  I did a good job.”

“I noticed Abby smiling when you helped her with that project.”  The evidence of Abby smiling is more powerful than telling him how nice he was.

“I noticed that sweater really brings out the color of your eyes.”  Teach your partner this one.  You might look in the mirror and actually believe it!

Everyone loves to be noticed.  Use “I noticed. . . “ and tell me how you notice the impact.

Do you live in or around Southeast Michigan?  Come learn The Six Best Parenting Strategies Ever with me and Thomas Haller on March 28th.  Click here to get the scoop. 

Go to We are THAT Family for more Works for Me Wednesday ideas.

Yes, this post first ran in October 2008.  Thanks to those of you who might be reading again.

How was your day? fine.

What happened at school? not much.

Wanna talk about it? not really.

It seems like no matter how hard I try, those questions never seem to get much information. A wise school counselor once suggested I use different words to ask the same question. Just begin with “I wonder. . .” and get a little more specific:

I wonder. . . who you sat with at lunch today?

I wonder. . . how things went in math class?

I wonder. . . what kids do before the first bell rings?

Somehow, when I phrase my questions this way, my kids want to fill in the blanks for poor, clueless mom. And I get more information. Amazing.

Try it today! I wonder how it will work in your family?

For more great Works for Me Wednesday ideas, go to We are THAT Family.

*Yes, this is a repost from the very early days of this blog.  If you noticed, my apologies, and thanks for sticking with me!

My thirteen-year-old looked concerned when he caught me reading Dr. Michael Bradley’s book:

Yes, Your Teen is Crazy!  Loving Your Kid Without Losing Your Mind

I’ll bet you can guess what he said:

“. . . . whhaaaaat’s this??”

While I assured my son that he need not worry, that I was preparing a parenting workshop for other families, I did appreciate this book’s framework for challenges that are sure to come.  Dr. Bradley gives a much needed (sometimes scary) wake-up call to parents.  The premise is based upon research revealing two findings about adolescent brain growth:

1. The most advanced part of the brain (prefrontal cortex) doesn’t complete its development until adolescence ends.  The good news:  we’re still able to shape our teens’ rapidly expanding brains.  
2. In adolescence, this important part of the brain basically shuts down when the impulsive (limbic) part of the brain is firing madly.  Teens’ brains are not yet wired to moderate impulses and understand the outcomes of their actions.  

So the truth is, if you think your teenager is brain damaged or crazy, (s)he technically is.  Temporarily. 

With much more depth than I can do justice here, Dr. Bradley offers these Ten Commandments of Parenting Your Teen.  Even if you don’t have adolescents, you might find these relationship pointers helpful (because let’s face it, we all still act like teenagers once in awhile, don’t we?). 

1. Thou Shalt be as the Dispassionate Cop Unto Thine Own Child:  Be Cool, Not the Fool.   Emulate a benevolent police officer keeping the peace.  If we’re snarky, the messenger takes the blame.   
2. Thou Shalt Listen even as Thine Own Child Shouts.  Because shouting back isn’t listening.
3. Thou Shalt Not Shout:  Speak thou Wisely.  90 percent of what we say in critical conversations is useless, loud, and often imflammatory.  The presentation of the message is the message. 
4. Thou Shalt add Fifteen Minutes to Every Interaction Involving thy Teen.  Build in time for emergency flareups, or delay decisions until you can think them through.  Don’t be pressured to cave in.
5. Thou Shalt Vanquish Thy Foolish Pride.  Embrace mature pride by building a connection with your child, not winning the power play. 
6. Thou Shalt Not Kill (or hit, or threaten to hit, even if you may entertain thoughts thereof. . .).  Enough said.
7. Thou Shalt Apologize at Every Opportunity.  Apologizing earns respect through your authenticity, and it allows you to sneak in lessons about humility, honesty, courage, and self-discovery. 
8. Thou Shalt Honor Thy Child’s Identity (Even Though it Maketh You Ill).  Choose your battles wisely, and support your child through the rest.
9. To Thine Own Self Be True.  Hold on to your values and lead by example.
10. Know Thou, This Too Shall Pass.  You’ve done colic, diapers, potty training and moved on.  You have the long term perspective.  Your teen may not.

This book is helping me re-think some of my approaches as we embark upon these roller coaster years.   So far, I’m actually looking forward to it. 

Do you have teenagers?  What would you list on your ten commandments?

This is part of WFMW at Rocks in My Dryer.

photo credit: www.eddie-lawrance.co.uk