UnchartedParent.com

I know, you think I have lost it. You believe I’ve journeyed to that part of the galaxy where grown men and women whom you think of as ordinary neighbors, coworkers and such suddenly sneak off on a Saturday morning sporting Vulcan ears or muttering in Klingon–a language that someone has actually taken the trouble to invent, for crying out loud–and gather in convention centers the size of space docks to worship aging actors dressed as imaginary space voyagers. And now I’m trying to pull a parenting lesson out of it and take you with me.

Well, the last sentence is true. But stick with me on this, because as sure as the Horta* was a determined mother, there are values I want my kids to learn and I found one in this movie.

**WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD**

I saw Star Trek into Darkness with my husband last week. It was filled with bravado, bad guys versus good guys, explosions, multiple references to Trek culture and to our own, real world. Just like all the Star Trek movies. It was a fun romp, even if the plot was a bit tired. But even though I thought eleven-year-old “Jack” might have enjoyed the movie, it never occurred to me to recommend it to him–until Kirk’s mentor, Captain Pike, died. Kirk grieved his loss, and I realized that the men’s relationship demonstrated something many kids don’t get to learn today.

We live in a time and place where parents battle teachers over bad grades, demand that coaches give their kids more playing time on a field, insist that there’s no way their kids could have exhibited the poor behavior for which they’ve been disciplined. Kids are often praised for being smart instead of working hard, parents complete homework projects and tough or grumpy teachers are often considered a problem for parents to deal with rather than a learning opportunity for students.

The fictitious Captain Pike isn’t easy on bad-boy James Kirk. (more…)

Sound familiar?

Today I’ve got a links roundup for you. Some fascinating articles have come out in the parenting world this week, and a few of them dovetail nicely with what’s been going on in my own house. I actually used the advice in one the same day I read it. Below you’ll find useful tips, a recommendation, and–don’t say I didn’t warn you–an example of truly abysmal human behavior.

• “‘It’s Not Fair!’ How to Stop Victim Mentality and Thinking in Kids and Teens” – Hands up if you hear this one from your kid. Okay you, the one with your hands down: kudos. Everyone else: read this. From Empowering Parents comes an article that I literally needed yesterday, and it gave me the tools to help explain to my eleven-year-old son the difference between someone who is targeting him and someone who is merely a grumpy person. It also helped me first empathize with his feelings, then start to work through steps to help him consider his own solutions to his problems and see that he has options for responses, even though he can’t necessarily change other people’s behavior. Problems solved? No. But it was a good beginning.

• “How Could a Sweet Third-Grader Just Cheat on That School Exam?” – A Wall Street Journal article examines a question that often elicits horror, denial or both from many parents who find themselves confronted with the fact that their young kids have cheated in school. I know, because recently my own second-grader did something with her schoolwork she shouldn’t have, and I was appalled. But this article explains why it can be harder than we think for kids to understand where the lines between right and wrong are, and it offers tips for how to make those lines clearer.

• “Mira Ptacin: Is Baby a Luxury?” (more…)

(Recognize this perfect family? Guess what? It wasn’t real.)

Recently, it has come to my attention that some parents awaken each morning to the joy of perfect, sunny children who always do what they’re told or, if they do misbehave, respond quickly to loving, gentle correction. These parents never raise their voices, never have a drink at 5:00 unless their rosy-cheeked children are in the care of a trusted babysitter they’ve known for years, never leave the house with a toddler attached to one shin and mascara smudged under one eye. They embrace the joy in every stage, every day of parenthood, wishing only that the clock afforded them more hours with their precious little ones. Yes, they’d like more time for sleep and adult interests, but they never have days when they really think about the activities they miss and wish they could have them back. In short, they are the people who say about parenting, “It’s all good.”

I think these parents are lying, very possibly to themselves. And they’re giving complexes to parents, especially new parents, who feel otherwise.

Parenting is not “all good.” Yes, it’s wondrous, enlightening, life-giving and loving beyond anything I could have imagined before I became a parent. In parenting, all the things you’ve heard are true. You will find energy and strength you didn’t know you had. You will hold something tiny and feel more love for it than all of the love one universe can contain. You will laugh in amazement at your own wit come back at you from the lips of your child, marvel at her accomplishments that already reach beyond what you could achieve and never tire of speculating about her future.

But all of the other things you have heard about parenting are also true. (more…)

Mount Vernon, George Washington’s home. (Photo credit: AFagen via Flickr.com)

Last summer, I ran a list of 12 Uncharted Tips for visiting Washington, D.C. with kids. We just returned from another visit to the city in which I lived and worked for ten years, and we were able to delve a bit deeper into its many offerings. Each trip back with the kids is a learning experience, so here I share my latest set of tips and ideas for visiting Washington D.C. with kids:

*If you can manage it, visit Washington, D.C. in the springtime. The emergence of the pink, cottony cherry blossoms that heralds the end of winter seems to lighten both the atmosphere and the spirits of the city’s residents (except for members of Congress, but that’s another story). Following the cherry blossoms, D.C.’s mild, not-yet-sweltering temperatures bring out tulips, lilacs, dogwoods and azaleas in rapid succession, everywhere you go. Especially if you’re traveling from a place like New England where the four seasons are sometimes known as winter, winter, winter and road construction, a spring visit to D.C. provides a welcome salve to the winter-chapped soul.

*Tourist food: Do as I say, not as I do. In my last set of tips, I advised you to bring your own food to tourist sites like the Air & Space Museum in order to avoid paying the absurd concession prices for junk food. This is solid advice you should follow. Ahem. I did not do this. Thus we paid $4.00 per slice of pizza at the National Zoo, which I found appalling until we paid $7.00 for a slice of pizza at Mount Vernon. Someone make me go to the grocery store before sightseeing next time, or at least to an off-premises Subway sandwich shop. Yikes.

*We were able to take in a few sights with our 11 and 8-year-old kids that we wouldn’t have tried in earlier years. When the kids were younger, they might have fussed too much and/or simply wouldn’t have appreciated a tour of the U.S. Capitol building–including a visit to the House of Representatives Gallery and the old Supreme Court Chamber or a trip to the National Archives to see the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights (and a 1297 copy of the Magna Carta). And yes, certain aspects of the history-filled Capitol were lost on them. But they are old enough to understand the building’s importance, they loved some of the stories they heard and eleven-year-old “Jack” was fascinated by the Whisper Chamber, where two people can stand in specific spots on opposite sides of the room and whisper a conversation to each other. Also, we were fortunate to be given a rare dome tour of the building, where we climbed the 300 or so steps to the top of the Capitol’s dome. When we stepped outside at the top–and I swear on my American heart I am not making this up–a bald eagle flew in front of us, circled for a bit, then soared off over the city’s horizon.

The old Supreme Court chamber in the U.S. Capitol building.

*The National Museum of American History was a sleeper hit. (more…)

(Image credit: hahatango via Flickr.com)

I remember these feelings.

They come too easily, slide into the place that isn’t supposed to be there, but was carved out eleven-and-a-half years ago and has since worn a groove into our brains, our hearts and our nerves. September 11 dug the track, gouged it deep and wide, in my case just outside the city I worked in every day at the time. Fear, uncertainty, disbelief. Helplessness. Willingness to give, and to act, if we can, but wondering if that matters. Anger. Hope, and wishing that our collective hope might be enough. Determination.

The too-familiar feelings began on September 11, but they didn’t end there. We know the patterns now, have had too many opportunities for practice. In Washington, September 11 was followed quickly by the anthrax attacks; a year later came the D.C. snipers. (The former left me, then a non-profit lobbyist who was six-months pregnant, forbidden to go to Capitol Hill to ensure I wouldn’t be exposed to the toxin; during the three-week reign of terror of the latter, I learned how not to expose my ten-month-old baby to parking lots or open spaces and how to pack my car so that I would always have everything I might need for a sudden dragnet that could last for hours.)

Around the nation, it is hard to tally the horrors. Each has a name and has taken lives, but also wounded the lives of countless others. Some of these actually pre-date that day in 2001 we claim as the day we lost our innocence; others came after. The first World Trade Center bombing. Oklahoma City. Columbine. Lancaster, Virginia Tech, Fort Hood, Tucson, Aurora, Oak Creek. Newtown. Many, many more shootings.

Now Boston.

The feelings came quickly yesterday, settling into their familiar places and cycling in a way that was recognizable and terrifying, energizing and and numbing. (more…)

(Image credit: Poes in Boots via Flickr.com)

Okay, kids need a lot more than this. But at the foundation, children need unconditional love and support. Does it matter if they get this love and support from one adult or two? If they are biologically related to the adult or adults or not? If the adults are straight or gay, the same race or ethnicity as the child or different, from the same religious background or not? Yes. Also no.

These questions matter because our backgrounds and experiences make up a large part of who we are. So it stands to reason that they will affect the ways in which we raise our children.

But more important is the central question of how we will love and support our children as we raise them. Kids–all kids–need to know that they can count on one or more adults in their lives to guide them, to explain the quandaries of life to them, to show them how to open themselves to the experiences of the world and to model caring, compassion and resilience so they can develop these qualities themselves.

Biological parents can do this. Adoptive parents can. Gay parents, straight parents, same-race, interracial, same-faith or interfaith, mixed-political parents–these values and skills are possible across the spectrum.

The national ground is shifting on the question of whether gays and lesbians should be allowed to marry and therefore obtain legal recognition for their families, and thank goodness it is. The American Academy of Pediatrics is the latest important body to state publicly that it supports marriage and adoption rights for same-gender couples, releasing a statement earlier today noting that “[c]hildren thrive in families that are stable and that provide permanent security.” These families already exist, and we do them a disservice by failing to afford them the same legal recognition and protections we grant to heterosexual families in this country.

It’s heartening to see leaders like President Obama, Secretary Clinton and even Republican Senator Rob Portman come to the same realization.

What is not good about the forward motion of the legal recognition of gay and lesbian families is the collateral damage opponents are carelessly inflicting in their desperate attempts to stave off progress. Arguing against gay marriage in the Supreme Court last week, the National Organization for Marriage’s John Eastman called all adoptions, including those of Chief Justice Roberts’s two children, a “second-best option.” (more…)

(Image credit: Toca Boca via Flickr.com)

Last week, I wrote about the adjustments in our house–and my attitude–toward the tween and his new technology after I realized that “Texting is the New Phone Call.”

“Jack” is now allowed to text seven days per week. It’s a big exception to our previous screen-time rules, but I believe it’s a good one.

Texts aren’t the only exceptions that have crept into those rules, however. The iPod Touch in a tween’s hands is like the tiny, hairline crack in the foundation of your basement that your handyman tells you might possibly one day let in a smidge of dampness, only to discover that by the end of the spring rains, you have three inches of standing water covering your basement floor.

The rules began with a bright enough line: no screen time during the week. The inevitable result of this declaration was that both children got off the school bus on Fridays, tossed their backpacks aside and dove for any and every device within their reaches–preferably all at once. Food, verbal interaction, even bathroom needs were secondary.

The kids hoarded their screen use into the weekends, and we began to impose limits then, too. Jack in particular had a tendency to turn into a grunting, Neanderthalish version of his usual self following too many hours in front of the small screen. After witnessing this phenomenon repeatedly and consistently over a long period of time, we explained what we had seen. He didn’t deny it, and mournfully agreed to comply with the limits.

Enter the iPod. (more…)

(Photo credit: jfiess via Flickr.com)

Here we are again. Back in the murky, increasingly complex world of kids and technology, where, unless you are an IT professional, it’s almost a given that your teen or tween offspring knows more about everyday tech than you do. They’re certainly more comfortable with it.

And yet, you–we–are the parents. We make the rules, we transmit the values. We must apply the rules in a manner consistent with our values. Be flexible, firm and fair.

Sounds good, doesn’t it? But as the kids get older, I’m finding that it’s not that easy.

A few months ago, eleven-year-old “Jack” got an iPod Touch, something he’d coveted for nearly a year. Jack received an affirmation of rules with his iPod, which was essentially an extension of “screen rules” that were already in place. The edict was simple: follow the rules–no screen time during the week except for homework and other approved exceptions, obey all email rules–and you keep your iPod privileges. Break the rules, and we revoke them.

That’s clear, right?

First, a primer: for those of you unfamiliar with an iPod Touch, it’s basically an iPhone without the phone capability. It operates on a wifi connection, you can load it up with apps, and so far as I can tell, it can do everything else that an iPhone can do. (Apparently, there are even workarounds that will allow you to use it as a phone, but what my kid doesn’t know won’t hurt him. In any event, that’s definitely on the “forbidden” list.)

Thus, an iPod Touch allows you to text, using your email account as the contact instead of a phone number. This was the first place I discovered that we had entered new tween territory.

Jack was the last among his group of friends to get a Touch, and the texts began almost immediately. At first, they seemed a novelty. But they persisted, and after the first week, I wondered what had happened to our “no screen time during the week” rule. I thought about bringing his weekday texts to an end, but something I couldn’t define held me back. So the texting continued.

As the chirping that heralded the arrival of new texts persisted, I puzzled over my reluctance to enforce my own rules. I examined some of the text exchanges, wondering what these kids could be talking about at the rate of more-texts-than-I-can-count in fifteen minutes. None of them were nefarious. They consisted of classic, fifth-grade boy chit-chat. Some of them didn’t even make any sense. (Seriously. Some of the messages consisted of letters that didn’t form actual words.)

And then one day, after exchanging texts with Jack when he was home alone, I realized why I was so reluctant to cut off the mid-week texts: texting is this generation’s phone call.

Texting is how these kids communicate. When we were kids and we reached a certain age, we picked up the phone. And, to our parents’ consternation, we never put it down. (more…)

It’s Tuesday night, and we’ve just finished our family dinner. We begin to clear dishes and rinse off plates as we chat about this and that.

Eleven-year-old “Jack” contributes a school-related topic. “On Friday, we’re going to have a combination lockdown drill and fire drill. And they told us that if that happens, we should listen to the lockdown drill, and only leave the building if we actually smell smoke.”

In less time than it would take to say, Holy crap, what kind of a world are we living in?, my mind runs through the implications of this information. But all I manage to sputter aloud is, “Um, what?”

“If we get both alarms, we only leave the building if we smell smoke. Otherwise, we listen to the lockdown.”

“But…”

“So we’ll be safe because if there’s smoke, we’ll leave,” pipes up seven-year-old “Emmie,” who attends the elementary school.

The seven-year-old is familiar with this procedure, too.

“Yeah, unless a crazy guy sets the school on fire to get us to go outside,” says Jack.

“Hmm,” says Emmie.

The two of them are discussing this in the same matter-of-fact tone they use to discuss the constitution of their breakfasts. I, on the other hand, am so unnerved by their casual conversation that I have to leave the room momentarily and chase from my mind the images that have been present there since Jack’s introduction of the topic. The crazy-guy-pulls-a-fire-alarm scenario. A mistaken lockdown alarm resulting in a too-late attempt to escape a fire. Bodies.

Come on, mom, pull it together.

I suppose I should be grateful that my children are not terrified by what goes on around them. I should be–and am–thankful that my children’s schools are clearly handling security in a manner that prepares the kids for various, unthinkable events without scaring the hell out of them. (more…)

(Image credit: grifiti via DeviantART.com)

Oh, yuck. Did you shudder when you read the title of this post? I did, and I wrote it. But that’s why we have to talk about it.

First, let me clarify: this post is not about my kid. As most readers know, my kids are eleven and seven. There are no fuzzy lines for me on this topic right now. If I caught one of my kids taking an alcoholic drink tomorrow, I don’t think the situation would pose much of a dilemma.

But. Someday, in some way, it will be about one of my kids. Because though I wish otherwise, I know that my kids are not perfect. They will not always do exactly as I say. As much as I want them always to be good, one (or maybe both) of them will break an important rule someday. And I will have to deal with it, and it will suck.

Second point of clarification: everybody is okay in the following scenario. Nothing major happened, which is why this is a mere parenting dilemma and not a tragedy or an easy, “You lose all of your privileges for a year” kind of situation.

So here’s the dilemma:

Recently, a friend’s teenage son attended a party at his friend’s house. He later told his parents that alcohol had been present at the party, and that he’d had some. Specifically, he said he’d “taken a sip.” He also reported that he’d hated it.

So, parent, what would you do? (more…)