Camp Prayer

I wanted to write something funny and witty this morning. Actually I’d love to be able to do that any morning. But I’m in a very reflective mood this morning. And I know why. I sit here in a quiet house with little piles of stuff surrounding me. Both our teen sons leave tomorrow for a week long camp in the mountains. When I was 13, I went to a camp in the mountains. The camp was lovely. The experience was not. I became the target of the girls in my cabin. Most of the girls were lifelong friends. And here I was – odd girl out, and odd already. I was short and skinny with buck teeth and braces. I used an obnoxiously high-falutin’ vocabulary which only made me even more of a target. After all when you call someone obtuse and they think you just called them fat – well, they retaliate.

I’ve been the target of bullies most of my life. And it affected my life in many ways. But if you can find a positive in it, it would have to be that I am very conscious of how others are treated. And I’ve discussed bullying and its effects with our sons many, many times.

I changed the wallpaper on my iPhone this morning to a picture I took of the two of them headed into our school district’s Fine Arts Center before a band concert. The picture is evocative to me because you only see their backs. As I see it, my purpose in raising our children is so they can walk away from me into the world and make the world a better place. And that is my prayer as they go to camp. Please let them touch the world in a positive way and leave it better. Amen.

It's Such Hard Work...Eating Bon Bon's

"Guess what, his wife has actually never worked a day in her life." 


And just like that, another political pundit has demonstrated that STUPID has no party lines. The fact that I can use the word pundit correctly in a sentence demonstrates that even though I don't work, I ain't stupid. Let me issue a disclaimer. I do not mean this to sound as if I am siding with one political party over the other. But I am pretty pissed off right now at a certain female strategist for the Democratic party - Ms. Hilary Rosen. In case you missed it, she used those exact words when discussing her disdain at Mitt Romney's reliance on his wife's guidance regarding women and their take on economic issues. What Ms. Rosen has tried to characterize as a poor choice of words is in fact a quite clear illustration of her opinion of those of us who stay at home. We ain't working, y'all. So we obviously shouldn't be relied on for any guidance. Dang - we probably shouldn't be given the vote. Oops, too late on that one, huh? And wait, aren't you a WOMAN, Ms. Rosen? 


I've read several of the articles written since this little tempest and watched the clip. The condescension and arrogance practically drip off the high definition screen. So let me just throw a little something out there to consider - staying home with children does NOT mean you are incapable of following the issues and providing an opinion. We just don't get PAID.


Years ago, I came up with my little reply to, "What do I do" - it's all about the bon-bons. It was my way of recognizing that to our society if you do not bring home a paycheck then you do not have an inherent value. Moreover there is the perception that you lead a fairly relaxed life. But to say that a woman - Ann Romney - who raised five well adjusted sons while also beating breast cancer and enduring multiple sclerosis has not "WORKED". Goodness - what a concept Ms. Rosen must have of work.


Now I will say that raising my two sons has been a labor of love. There's been a lot of labor and a lot of love, and I didn't love most of the people I worked with outside the home. But here's the deal - when the kids were younger if I hadn't had the kids with me, then we would have paid someone to watch them. If I don't clean the house, then we would pay someone to clean it or claim our spot on Hoarders. If I don't do the yard work then we would pay someone to do it or enslave the teenagers - my personal preference. So if so much of what I do would have to be replaced by somebody being paid to do it as part of their JOB...why is it WORK for them and NOT WORK for me?? Now I recognize that there are many women who handle all those responsibilities and a job outside the home. But see - there's the difference between me and Ms. Rosen - I CAN RECOGNIZE THAT NOT ALL LIFE CIRCUMSTANCES ARE THE SAME. 


Each family makes their decisions based on a myriad of factors - income, location, health of family members, and on and on. It is not up to me to judge whether your choice is working for your family. And it's not up to you to judge either. Now pass those bon-bons...I've worked up an appetite. 

Entourage?? Anytime You Want...

So I've just returned from a trip to Florida as part of my eighth grader's entourage - at least that's what it felt like. I believe officially I was considered to be a chaperone. The eighth grade has a trip to Florida every year. It's earned based on conduct, and dang it, he's a well-behaved kid therefore there was no way to get out of it. We rode a charter bus, and we did Universal Studios, Islands of Adventure, Sea World, and Aquatica. It feels like I'm missing something in there - oh, yeah - sleep. Sleep is what I'm missing. In all fairness, I don't remember it being listed on the itinerary anyway.
It was a fun trip though I'm not really an amusement park kinda gal. Museums, architecture, historical stuff - that stuff turns me on. Roller coasters - not really. I already know how it feels to be scared senseless, I've been in hospitals before, and bulimia does not interest me especially with the prices these parks charge for food. So I did exactly one at the Harry Potter world stuff. It would probably rate a wimponus spell, but I survived which was important. I really enjoyed Sea World the best - shows and animals. Plus I had been to Sea World as a little girl. I have the most adorable bracelet with little dolphins on it and I found the old home movies not long ago. May I say that ponytails and Peter Pan collars quite suited me.
But here's the deal. I spent a fair amount of time alone. Thanks to the proliferation of cell phones, my son and his four friends were able to be in constant contact with me and they are all taller than me and the school approves of their going off without you as long as all numbers have been exchanged and you have plans for meeting up. So I would sit in Starbucks (there are only so many times I was interested in walking around stuff I didn't want to do) and read. They would text me. I would meet up with them, distribute money, pick up what they wanted me to carry, get my instructions and move on. See - entourage member - the one without a lot of power, but a ton of interest in being included.
But here's the point - I wouldn't trade it for anything. I got to see how our son and his friends interact. At times I could see the children they were - laughing and feeding seagulls and pigeons with such delight and abandonment, wearing silly hats and stuff. And at times I could see the men they are becoming - holding the door for people, showing good manners, disapproving of how some people were acting. They are good kids and I know just how fast time flies. Our son had his fourteenth birthday while on the trip. Which can't be possible since my profile picture shows me holding this adorable toddler. In the blink of an eye he'll be gone to college, but I'll always get to hold on to the memories. And for that I'll gladly be a member of the entourage.

A Jolt to Joe, Heard Round the World

There are four of us, thus the 4gaby.com name. But of the four, I’m the sports freak. And because I watch and follow football, particularly college football, I’ve been dismayed at the news as it has come out of Penn State regarding an alleged pedophile. There are so many angles to this story – did he, didn’t he, what is alleged, who knew what, what is your duty by law, what is your moral duty – but as the mother of two teenage boys, I find two very simple answers – NEVER HURT A CHILD, and REPORT IT IF YOU SEE IT.

Our sons have been active in the following: Boy Scouts, school band, marching band, tee ball, cross country, church youth group, field trips, and class trips. Every single one of these has had male chaperones. Every single one of these has had “opportunities.” Last year I went through three background checks in the space of a month. One for church so I could teach Sunday School and chaperone, one for school so I could ride the activity bus and go on overnight field trips, and one for Boy Scouts since I am on the parents’ council and help with the scout board of reviews. I passed each check with flying colors since speeding tickets were not the issue. And the reality is that there are pedophiles out there who would pass the same background checks, no problem—because they haven’t been caught yet.

I believe the reason this story has resonated so deeply with so many of us is it hits hard at one of our deepest fears – the inability to protect our children. We can institute background checks, and put measures in place such as the Boy Scouts requirement that I always have another leader present and never be left alone with any Scout other than my own son, and still we fail. The Penn State story illustrates that we can fail miserably, and lives have been irrevocably ruined as a result.

So much of what is written has focused on Penn State, its coaches and administrators. They are an easier target in some ways than the pedophile himself, and his “charity.” We often don’t know how to address evil, but we love to address stupidity, and while the coaches and administrators may be intelligent, their actions and inaction belied that intelligence.

I would expect any adult who saw something that made them question how someone was acting toward any child to have the, yes, I AM going to say it, the BALLS to stand up and say something. I don’t really care why or where your legal obligation falls.

Why can’t we recognize right and wrong anymore and just stand up for it? What has happened to make us so incapable? Have we become so afraid of each other that we walk away rather than become involved? How can we prevent this in the future?

What to Do?

Play dates, schools, sports, and just about any other situations where children interact, are a battlefield. Oh, who am I kidding! Let's just admit, dealing with children, at times, sucks. A battlefield is an understatement; it is more like going into a combat zone, holding nothing more than piece of paper that says, "Parent in Charge."

So what do you do if a child, other than your own, behaves badly in your presence?

Do you tell them off / correct them yourself?

Should you tell their parents?

Should you keep quiet - it is not your business after all?

Do you do all of the above?

Perhaps you have an alternative solution of your own, but one thing is common to all of us. The route you take will depend upon the deed done. I, for one, do not tell other people's children off, I suppose it is just my thing. However, I do rely on the adults to take charge and deal with the situation, if it is severe enough to warrant it.

So, then the question to be asked is, "What does severe enough mean to you?" This is also a minefield, which has many possible answers, depending upon your own view.

There is no rulebook, apart from the laws enforced by the police. Should be easy, should it not? No, I am afraid to say that it is far from easy.

I have found that some parents have a magical view of their children. They are adamant their offspring are always the innocent party, even when proven guilty. To be honest, they would make perfect defense attorneys, and I for one am fed up with battling this issue. They defend with great passion; they throw metaphorical stones at their opponent's imaginary glass houses. They fight a great fight, scrambling to keep the reputation of their children intact, no matter what has occurred.

Quite right, you may say. Parents are their children's advocate after all. However, I think it is also our duty, as parents, to act responsibly and to show children how to deal with their mistakes in a grown-up approach. We need to show them how to take responsibility for their actions and understand the consequences, not jump in and have the attitude, 'he who shouts loudest wins.' I have found perfectly lovely people turn into monstrous beings over their children.

This week a group of children did something wrong at my house. Some facts I know as I witnessed it, some I didn't. A couple of them helped to try to minimize the damage that the others had done, but for the main perpetrators, they ran away. I suspect hoping that I would not report it to their parents.

I am not a squealer, but I could not over look this. Respectfully, I felt, I inquired as to the names of the children and I sent emails to the parents of those who helped and those who I suspected were in the wrong. What ensued was very shocking. My neighborhood became a hive of busy bee parents, ringing, mailing, and scoring points over the other's children.

In the end, with my patience worn thin, and regretting reporting the incident, I posted on Facebook my view. I did not intend on a war, I was just informing parents of an action that really needed attention. I would expect someone to do that for me if it was my child. No one was rude; in fact, they were all perfectly nice. However, being NICE and being NICE FOR AN ULTERIOR MOTIVE are two different things.

The misdemeanor, in the chaos, seemed forgotten. The focus had moved, and I hoped that my post would bring those parents involved back to reality. We are all on the same side, we are not enemies, we are comrade in arms, bringing up our children, hopefully to be decent human beings.

Following is my post. It may not win me any favors, but I sincerely hope it was the right thing to do.

"Ok, going to stick my neck out here and hope for the best. If a child does something wrong (including my own) I would want to hear about it .This is not war! Couldn't we just tell them the lesson to be learned, even if it wasn't them, but part of the group they happen to be in? Sorry but it had to be said!"

What would you have done? I would love to hear, maybe we can learn from each other. You know, parents sticking together for the greater good!

As SpongeBob states – “I’m Ready, I’m Ready…………..”

Brace yourselves parents it's coming… D-day is nearly here for most of us, and we are counting down. I have the celebratory wine chilling in the fridge, and the 20 million water bottles ready and waiting to go in the garage. School is nearly starting other than for one teeny, tiny obstacle to be overcome. We still have to run the back-to-school supply list gauntlet.

This mania has Black Friday beat. I am convinced that shops everywhere are bracing themselves for this week. Every year I swear to myself, God, or indeed anyone who will listen to me over the age of 18, that I will not lose control in Staples or Target. I pledge that I will NOT swear uncontrollably to the innocent shop assistant if they do not have anymore three holed pocket folders in bright pink. I will control my facial expressions, keep them 'poker faced ', when my son insists that the most expensive calculator will help him achieve higher marks in his math class. I will resist stamping my feet like a 5 year old because they only have clear glue and not white as my daughter cries uncontrollably since she is sure she will be making slime in science this year. No, I will not panic as I fight through the crowds to purchase endless reams of loose leaf paper only to find the lucky ones had scooped up the precious college ruled packs, leaving me to console my 14 year old that he will not look like a nerd with wide ruled. After all, what are a few millimeters between friends?

Pencils are another story - 2HB is the call of the schools. Great, they are everywhere, but this Shakespearean sonnet sound-alike is a minefield. Do you get the cheapest knowing that within one day your well supplied child will have mislaid them, and also knowing that every single one does not sharpen as its lead that has been shattered into a million pieces, probably by the aforementioned shop assistant, who had dropped the whole case whilst being chased by an over eager parent? Or, do you go for the technical, mechanical ones which are for the most part a huge NO-NO, and just let your child be the one who gets labeled as 'the one with the parent who cannot read the list properly'.

Pink erasers this year seem to be necessary. What happened to white or are we now trying to be politically correct and pink is the new in? However, there is a plus to this; at least the pencils seem to all come with pink erasers on top. Yes, I know they will become a daily part of my children's diet as they munch on them in class (the granola bars just don't taste the same) but who cares, I am focusing on my parent-of-the-year award for having the right supplies.

Then once we are done with the stationary side of things, we find ourselves moving onto the sanitary section. Oh how we love our germ-free schools. The fear factor is before us. It shouts "your child needs these items - Cleanliness is next to Godliness!". I agree for the most part, and I do pity our poor teachers as they battle with germ-infested children but, seriously, do I really need to supply tissues, hand sanitizer, disinfectant wipes and much more? Can we not just wrap them up in a self-sanitizing body suit, give them a facial mask, surgeon's gloves, and have a heat (fever) detector installed on all the main entrances? After all, isn't that how airports do it? Better still, lets jab them as they enter with flu shots. You may laugh, but in England, when I was a child, we all lined up for the BCG vaccine (Tuberculosis), and like sitting ducks we sweated as the end of the line neared. A little of what we had to go through may be a good learning curve for our precious ones. If all parents clubbed together the money, we are to spend on these products, we could afford those sensors I am sure!

So what is a parent to do? Already as I write this, I can feel the stress rising. No, I am not going to let it get me! I am going to get my coffee, combine my lists (2 children, 2 lists), and face the day like a combat soldier, and for those of you who have already successfully planted your kids back in school, and completed the gauntlet, I tip my hat to you. Sit back and heave a sigh of relief. Pity my pain. Hindsight is a glorious state of mind.

The Hitchhikers Guide To Child Rearing

I need a parenting handbook, badly. I am not talking about textbooks explaining the ins and outs of diaper changing or milestones they should achieve. I am talking about a full blown, down and dirty, guide to help us turn these little things into wonderful people, whilst still holding onto my sanity in the process. Who knew that this whole parenting chapter of our lives could be so fraught with anguish. In the book (if it exists, because I don’t think it does), I would like to see a chapter on mythical fairies and magical people. For years, fourteen in fact, I have been the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny and Father Christmas (although I have to say my husband suited the latter role better), and I loved it. Unfortunately, there comes a time when we know we have to admit to our children the whole scam. My son, at the tender age of ten, took my husband and me aside one day and gave us a scolding. He reminded us that being deceitful is wrong and that he had worked out our deceit. There was something in me that wanted to defend myself  like a ten year old and jump up saying “smarty pants”, but I couldn’t. He was technically right. Not wanting a repeat of our first experience and given the fact that our daughter will be twelve in four weeks we decided it was time. We thought she knew, after all her Christmas list last year consisted of items that  added up to approximately $4,000 and when asked to think carefully about the items she simply said that Father Christmas doesn’t have to worry about money as he makes everything. There was our first clue, or so we thought. She had been talking about the Easter Bunny all last week, even to her friends, who all gave her the knowing look, so we decided to tell her. After all being the last to know is always painful.

WRONG DECISION!

Our fabulous, fun loving daughter collapsed, crying uncontrollably. Heartbroken by the knowledge the Easter Bunny does not exist. There wasn’t anything we could do. The words were out, and life as she knew it would never be the same. Trying hard not to cry myself, I hugged her and tried my best to comfort her distress, but no amount of consoling worked. What had we done? Had we taken away her dreams and given her the first harsh lesson of reality? She is one of life’s innocents, a super sweet genuine girl and I pray I haven’t destroyed that. Obviously, my husband and I are crushed by the outcome of our decision, beating ourselves up every day since. We feel like the worst parents in the world, but we truly thought we were doing the best by helping her to avoid the harsh tongues of other children. I hope that one day she will understand our thinking and forgive us. Until then, if anyone knows of a handbook as I described above, please let me know.

Motherhood is Ageless

By Mary Alford-Carman

So, exactly how old is too old to have a baby? In "Selfishly Enjoying the Ride", in our April Issue of www.4gaby.com, I wrote about the indignities that occur when women over a certain age have children, while men can happily have them at any age and no one blinks. To have a relative stranger come up to you and ask why you had a baby at a certain age just blows my mind. Why are they so concerned? Are they going to take care of the baby, do they have to pay for their college fund, walk the floors with them at night, cuddle them when they're sick or help them with calculus in high school?

Khalil Gibran wrote, "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself." I've always loved that quote; it reminds me that our children will be with us only a little while, that life is short, and that we all long for more. Having a baby at any age is such a personal decision and when others who are not involved in that decision flap their gums spewing negativity, it's hurtful and unkind. At 48 I was stunned and happily blessed to have a son. Why do some feel it necessary to criticize the birth a child into a loving home based solely on the age of the mother? Goodness sakes, hardly anyone raised an eyebrow when Senator/Actor Fred Thompson had two children in his sixties; they were more upset over the younger wife!

Call me sensitive, call me what you will, just don't call me too old to have, and love, a baby. Life is just too dang precious, and right now I have a four-year-old's soccer game to prepare for!

Competitive Much?

So after reading our lovely guest column ("Game On") by Amy Overbay, all I can think of is, "I resemble that remark." I have been each one of the competitive types she mentions - the Blatantly Competitive Parent, the Negatively Competitive Parent, and the Secretly Competitive Parent at various times in my "professional" parenting career.

See it all depends on the type of competitive mom staring me down as to which one I become. Because like so many players, I rise and fall based on the level of competition I am facing. However through the years, I have been plagued by game related injuries. Those mind numbing hits and tackles you take when you try to brag about your kid only to realize the person you are bragging to is about to bury you with their kids accomplishments. Or when you show your ugly side and comment jealously about the kid who wins everything only to find that a spur of the moment comment which you regret has been used against you ad infinitum. The worst and most humiliating hit was one I took when I bragged about my kid to someone only to find out she had a special needs child and was just hoping he would learn to walk. One of my children has ADHD and I can empathize with a child who doesn't meet "normal", but what I have encountered is nothing compared to some.

I've taken so many hits in fact that I have hung up my cleats more times than Brett Favre. Of course another reason I had to resign from my pro contract is that my sons are teenagers now. When they do have stuff to brag about, I'm usually the last to know. I found out one kid was first chair in his instrument only when I asked the band director if he would get to play in the high school band next year (when he moves up from middle school) and if so, would they still let him play his instrument or ask him to change instruments. Now that was embarrassing, and incredibly funny all at the same time, (and see I managed to brag about it here). I think the fact that I just have no clue means I can't keep pitching with the pros. But I can brag about their humility...right??

How do you handle competitive parents? Does it make you want to start playing the one up game?
Do you brag about your child's accomplishments or just keep them close to your hearts (perhaps still telling grandparents for the reward opportunities)?
Have you ever embarrassed your child?
Have you shown your jealousy of other's children?