hello lovely child

Science confirms kids need more free-play
by Michele Ranard, M.Ed.
770 words

With school in full swing, homework, studying, and a steady diet of rigidly-structured activities are standard fare for many kids. Soccer, ballet, piano, and extracurriculars broaden the horizon and set the stage for personal growth. But over-scheduling our children to beef up their competitiveness or resumes for college has a downside.

While academics, lessons, and organized sports are important, kids need goof-off time too. Science tells us to remain healthy, children of all ages need plenty of unstructured play.

The Biology of Free-play

Dr. Stuart Brown, clinical researcher and author of Play: How it Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul (Avery, 2009) studied the play behavior of animals and more than 6,000 people from all walks of life (serial killers to Nobel Prize winners). His research concludes that play time is critical to the emotional, social, and cognitive health of our children.

Everyone understands play is pleasurable and a good distraction from stress, but science also teaches us that play “is a profound biological process” crucial to our survival. In rats, play reduces impulsivity, which is similar to ADHD in humans. We are simply hard-wired to play. Unfortunately, recess and P.E. are disappearing from the school day at a time kids need unstructured free-play more than ever.

Brown says making play a part of our daily lives is critical to feeling fulfilled as happy, successful human beings. What constitutes play? The retired psychiatrist says play is much more than games and sports. Play involves books, music, art, jokes, movies, drama, and daydreaming.

10 Important Reasons to Create More Time for Play


1. Happier kids. Sometimes we trivialize play or fail to see its usefulness. But it’s more than fun. In addition to improving emotional health, it serves a biological purpose. When social mammals such as rats and monkeys are deprived of rough-and-tumble play, they enter adulthood emotionally fragile. Play helps them distinguish friend from foe, handle stress better, and form better skills to mate properly.

2. Social competence is enhanced. Play teaches people to master and adapt to changing circumstances. Even “dealing with or avoiding being excluded” from games like tag or dodge ball are helpful social skills to learn.

3. Physical activity may lessen the symptoms of mild ADHD. Dr. Lara Honos-Webb, author of The Gift of ADHD (2005) says of the disorder “it is important to remember that nature is medicine and activity is medicine.” She suggests that parents of children with ADHD make time for them to run around outside before school and be sure that recess is never taken away as a punishment for poor behavior.

4. It burns calories. Trends for childhood obesity are staggering. According to the CDC, the prevalence of childhood obesity for 6-11 year-olds has increased from 6.5% (1976-80) to 17% (2003-2006). Obese kids have increased risk for cardiovascular disease, asthma, sleep apnea, and Type 2 diabetes.

5. The idea is not to raise rigid, humor-less adults. After analyzing thousands of “play histories,” Brown stresses that play deficiencies can lead to closed-mindedness, inflexibility, and unhappiness. Lifelong play is part of the antidote. Play may even prevent a smoldering depression! Play is not just a trivial escape. It provides a vehicle for learning to problem solve, and as Dr. Brown writes, “reshapes our rigid views of the world.”

6. Rough and tumble play is developmentally critical. We knew it was helpful to development, but Dr. Brown’s research revealed that for young homicidal males and drunk drivers, rough-and-tumble play was missing from their childhoods.

7. Stronger academic performance. This may be especially relevant for boys. Anthony Pellegrini, an educational psychology professor at the University of Minnesota and author of Recess (2005) discovered that successful peer interaction at recess was an excellent predictor of success on standardized tests. When boys established competence on the playground, they also did better in the classroom and paid attention better.

8. Play keeps curiosity and wonder alive. Kids today spend 50% less time outside than they did just twenty years ago. The lure of animation, videogames, and online networking is so tempting and culturally reinforced that the beauty of nature and fresh air right outside our doors is often overlooked.

9. Successful people play A LOT. Playfulness sparks creativity and innovation. Analysis of the play histories of successful adults reveals “Highly successful people have a rich play life.”

10. Play is honorable. Play is not just a mindless activity—it is active learning. As Brown puts it: “From an evolutionary perspective, the smarter the animal, the more they play…it gets us in touch with our core selves and the joy of life.”

Michele Ranard has a husband, two children, and a master’s in counseling. She is passionate about helping parents and children lead richer lives. Visit her at hellolovelychild.blogspot.com.

Resources:

Brown, Stuart. Play: How it Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul. Avery, 2009.

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (http://www.cdc.gov)

Honos-Webb, Lara. The Gift of ADHD. New Harbinger, 2005.

Pellegrini, Anthony. Recess: It’s Role in Education and Development. Laurence Erlbaum, 2005.

Cut, cut, cut. But don't waste the Jesus bandaids. And read everything by Kurt Vonnegut.

Don't use up all the fancy bandages in a day. I know. It's hard. They're pretty and bring more comfort than Hello Kitty ones.

I love Vonnegut's voice, don't you? Here's what he once said about writing:

1. Find a subject you care about.
2. Do not ramble, though.
3. Keep it simple.
4. Have the guts to cut.
5. Sound like yourself.
6. Say what you mean to say.
7. Pity the readers.

As quoted in Science Fictionisms (1995), compiled by William Rotsler.

Quiet your thoughts by picturing mice or don't.

Anne Lamott references a great tip in Bird by Bird (the most helpful book I've read about writing).

Many writers experience chatter in their brains even away from the notebook or laptop, and she says in order to bid goodbye to it (and SLEEP!), she imagines the thoughts are little mice. She picks each one up by its tail and drops it into a jar before replacing the lid.

I find this exercise to be effective EXCEPT when I'm mouse phobic. Which is all the time. Carefully weigh your options before picturing rodents or touching those miserable tails.

Instead, go online and devour the work of cupcake bloggers. Or imagine Edward Cullen breaking the neck of each racing bad vampirish thought.

But you know what honestly works? Deciding to record these ramblings (however odd they come to you) for future exploitation and fortune. KNOW that this chatter is going to make you millions. Then a miracle happens. Lucky for you, all the juiciness and the voices and the potential for wealth will be gone.

image, Christina Romeo

Help Empathy Bloom in Your Children

by Michele Ranard, M.Ed.
920 words
*image, mightytosave.tumblr.com

Cyber-bullying and “mean schoolgirl” scenarios are frequently publicized in the news. More than a few kids have hogged the spotlight lately for ugly displays of aggression and lack of kindness.

Are we living through an empathy crisis?

I don’t have the answer. Despite headlines, we all witness empathetic acts daily. We see kids sharing their lunches and adults turning a cheek. But in vogue or not, I am always on board for emphasizing empathy.

Parents can be instrumental in helping children cultivate it for a lifetime.

Empathy 101

Empathy cannot be understood or gleaned from a single conversation with children; it’s a process beginning with parents committed to modeling more of it themselves. Improving our vocabularies is a good start. It’s sad, but some kids are able to articulate “road rage” more easily than the e-word: which is being sensitive to the feelings of others and emotionally living temporarily in their shoes.

Isn’t empathy being nice? Kids need to understand empathy is beyond feeling sorry for someone or reserved for times of loss. Empathy is getting past your self. “In some sense it means that you lay aside your self, and this can only be done by a person who is secure enough in himself” (Rogers, 1959).

Feeling for others appears to come naturally to some and may even be in our genes.

Wired for Empathy

Exposed to cultural messages justifying aggression for survival, our kids are often reinforced for lacking empathy. In The Age of Empathy (2010), renowned primatologist Frans De Waal cites evidence from his research with primates that empathy is innate and likely evolved from how mammals cared for their young.

“Don’t believe anyone who says that since nature is based on a struggle for life, we need to live like this as well. Many animals survive not by eliminating each other or keeping everything for themselves, but by cooperating and sharing.”

If predisposed for empathy, why do we often behave against our nature?

We over-value cognition and control. As De Waal writes “We live in an age that celebrates the cerebral and plays down emotions as mushy and messy. Worse, emotions are hard to control, and isn’t self-control what makes us human?”

De Waal ponders why evolution ever got into the empathy business in the first place if it didn’t serve an important role. “Why did natural selection design our brains so that we’re in tune with our fellow human beings, feeling distress at their distress and pleasure at their pleasure?”

Psychiatrist Bruce Perry points out in Born to Love (2010) that the way our brains respond to fear keeps us from empathy. “When calm, people can use the most ‘human’ part of their brain…to think abstractly…to be creative.” Perry explains we can walk in another’s shoes when we are in this reflective, safe, and secure mode. But when we’re living in terror our actions are driven by lower areas of the brain. “There will be no rational thinking—merely reflexive responses directed toward self-preservation.”

When Empathy Takes Root

Need more evidence that empathy pays? It turns out empathy may determine future professional success. In A Whole New Mind (2006), author Daniel Pink argues that it will be the empathizers who rule the future. “What will distinguish those who thrive will be their ability to understand what makes their fellow woman or man tick, to forge relationships, and to care for others.”

Pink is not the only one preaching empathy. Mary Gordon, longtime educator and developer of a program called Roots of Empathy has proven that increasing empathy in schoolchildren: nurtures emotional literacy, decreases aggression, drives down antisocial behavior, and makes for less bullying.

Secret to the program’s success? Babies. An infant’s visits to the classroom to facilitate discussions of feelings and “the ability to find the humanity in one another…by interrupting patterns of child abuse and neglect that are so often repeated through parenting in the next generation” (Gordon, 2009) make empathy real and teachable.

7 Ways to Help Empathy Bloom

Expert Betsy Brown Braun identifies empathy “tips and scripts” in You’re Not the Boss of Me (2010). Consider these tools as you equip your children for life.

1. Be patient. Keep your child’s age and development in mind as you consider their capacity for empathy. This process doesn’t happen over night. Understand mistakes will be made. Empathy will grow over time with experience.

2. Catch your child being empathetic. Notice and point out those little moments you see kindness shining through.

3. Build a strong bond. It is this security which will carry them so realize teaching The Golden Rule is never “five minutes ago!”

4. Respond with empathy. Whether your child is experiencing positive or negative feelings do model empathy by becoming a better listener. Ask open-ended questions and don’t rush into fixing the problem.

5. Think out loud. Say “Wasn’t your teacher extra kind writing that note today?” Ask questions to generate thoughts of how someone else might feel. “I wonder why he became so upset?”

6. Watch your criticism. When your child hears your negative judgments about the imperfections of others, it matters. Talk about social pressures to do the wrong thing. Emphasize the importance of always doing what she knows to be right.

7. Set them up for success. Consciously expose your child to influences promoting empathy and compassion. Whether it’s a nature film, books with kindness themes, or art, be intentional in counteracting selfish thinking. “Surround yourself and your family with people who are compassionate and kind. You do have a choice.”

Michele Ranard has a husband, two children, and a master’s in counseling. Visit her at hellolovelychild.blogspot.com.

Resources:

Braun, Betsy Brown. You’re Not the Boss of Me. Harper, 2010.

De Waal, Frans. The Age of Empathy: Nature’s Lessons for a Kinder Society. Three Rivers Press, 2010.

Gordon, Mary. Roots of Empathy: Changing the World Child by Child. The Experiment, 2009.

Perry, Bruce D. and Maia Szalavitz. Born to Love: Why Empathy is Essential and Endangered. William Morrow, 2010.

Pink, Daniel. A Whole New Mind: Why Right-Brainers Will Rule the Future. River Head, 2006.

Rogers, Carl R. “Empathic: An Unappreciated Way of Being.” The Counseling Psychologist. Summer 1975. 5:2, doi:10.1177/001100007500500202.

Hold on loosely.  WRITE EVERYDAY WHETHER YOU'RE INSPIRED OR NOT

It is tempting to rush the words when inspiration comes - to grab immediately and squeeze thoughts aggressively from consciousness in order to own them.

But handling them gently for a little while is often preferable. Time allows ideas to deepen. Of course, this is never good advice to follow when you have a deadline.

This tendency to rush in grows in strength as I gain more writing experience. It is a response pattern consistently reinforced by the online revolution, Carpe Diem messages everywhere, and self-imposed pressure to produce. It's easy to get entangled. So I have to be intentional as I wait on synthesis and magic to happen on their own time. And I have to trust they WILL happen.

*image, mighty to save

An Untidy Space Probably Spells Normal Development.
by Michele Ranard, M.Ed.
465 wds

It’s more than a tad embarrassing when I recall how I used to brag about my neatnick son’s spotless room. He was the shipshape child. The kid finger-pressing wrinkles out of little polo shirts and cargo pants. In fact, he lived for color-coding perfectly hanging apparel in his closet.

His bedroom pretty much passed every white glove test I never gave it. Shame on me—there I go with the bragging again.

Fast forward to this child’s twelfth birthday. It’s as if pod people snatched Boy Tidy and replaced him with Tweeny Slob-a-saurus. What? The messy tween train stops at your house too?

Why ‘House Beautiful’ May Not Be Calling

Turns out, many child development experts agree that although tweens may be clutter magnets, messy rooms for tweens and teens are normal—as in, developmentally appropriate and right on schedule. Not only does the changing brain chemistry of adolescents make organization more challenging, but tweens and teens exhibit a natural need to assert their autonomy as well.

Which means we shouldn't be too quick to dismiss the toxic wasteland known as their room as a sign of rebellion. The mess may reflect a healthy emerging independence. Our tweens are separating emotionally—and in terms of their personal messy space—physically as well.

But what about what those designers on HGTV who insist our interior spaces and decor symbolically mirror our inner selves? Perhaps this analysis does not apply to minors. Otherwise, my child is teetering somewhere between slightly disturbed and headed for a padded room (which you just know he’s going to litter with half empty cans of Mountain Dew).

The mounds of dirty laundry—the ground-in cheese puffs—the stench? Perhaps we can point to these and more adolescent unmentionables as evidence of growth, not instability. Of normal textbook maturation, not disturbance. (But sweet mother, the mess also shouts “KEEP THE HECK OUTTA HERE!” does it not?).

Why Tweens Seem Oblivious to Oblivion

Child development expert and author Elizabeth Hartley-Brewer says this about the pressures facing today’s tweens in Talking to Tweens (2005):

“We know that when we feel overwhelmed we tend to fall short of our own standards, lose our cool more often, and sometimes make any pressures worse, perversely, by ignoring them. Worries can interrupt our sleep, and tiredness increases our irritability and chips at confidence. Children are the same.”

So some tweens may tend to ignore piles or an out of control bedroom because their lives—wrought with academic pressures and over-scheduling—overwhelm them sufficiently. Hartley-Brewer suggests that since their bedrooms are their personal space, parents should make an effort to consistently allow tweens to relax in their space in their own way.

I think we all understand what that means, right? Strap on that surgical mask securely before entering their space.

Michele Ranard has a husband, two children, a master's in counseling, and a blog at hellolovelychild.com.

Resources:

Elizabeth Hartley-Brewer. Talking to Tweens. De Capo, 2005.

by Michele Ranard, M.Ed.
800 words

“Cultivating greater happiness not only benefits oneself, but also one’s family, community, and society at large.” (Dalai Lama)

Cultivating happiness drives us. We seek it, lose it, recover it and constantly monitor ourselves for it. Happiness is abstract but way beyond warm and fuzzy.

Remember when parents openly admitted ‘happy’ was all they wished for their kids? That was before our children were branded Generation Me, and many of us guiltily began to question the implications of our wish.

Here’s the thing. In vogue or not, we care deeply about our children’s happiness. And if history and science teach us anything it’s that we can’t sit around and wait for happiness to find us. We have to live with intention and model it.

Can Money Buy It?

Psychologist David Meyers called happiness “a deep abiding sense that all is well” in The Pursuit of Happiness (1993), and University of Illinois Professor Ed Diener, equates it with psychological wealth. In his book Happiness (2008) psychological wealth is explained as “your true net worth and includes your attitudes toward life, social support, spiritual development, material resources, health, and activities in which you engage.”

Diener studied happiness across cultures and found that money only predicts happiness sometimes. People in wealthy nations are happier than those in poor ones. In poor nations where basic needs are not met, money matters. However, money is NOT a predictor of happiness in wealthy societies like the U.S.

Author of The How of Happiness (2008) Sonja Lyubomirsky says materialism is a strong predictor of UNHAPPINESS because materialistic people become easily distracted from their close relationships, and possessions don’t bring long-term joy.

Who is Happy?

Happier people are more spiritual, have better health, and possess close social relationships. They are in happy marriages and claim religious faith.

A higher I.Q, better education, or sunny climate will not make you happier! Youth is not associated with increased happiness either. A report from the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (2000) revealed people in their early twenties reported significantly more sad days in the past month (3.4) than folks in their late and early seventies (2.3). Beauty, promotions, and wealth? Great stuff. But do not predict happiness.

Wait a sec. Circumstances do not increase happiness? Inheriting a beach house in Malibu or landing a million dollar book deal will make me very happy. I’m certain! How can science be accurate?

One explanation is hedonistic adaptation. Humans have evolved to quickly adapt to circumstances, and adaptation plays to our advantage when we adjust to negative change. But adaptation is also at work for positive life changes. So we’re elated for a time when we get married or get the keys to the beach house, but then it wears off. We adapt – no matter what.

This is why we must be intentional about the pursuit of happiness for ourselves and our children.

10 Ways to Choose Happy.

Sociologist Christine Carter reminds us in Raising Happines (2010) that “happy friends, neighbors, and siblings who live in close proximity to you (as adults) increase your odds of being happy.” Borrowing from the brilliant work of Carter, Seligman, and Lyumorbisky, here are ten additional tips for parents to consciously stir up more happiness in their families:

1. Get together with friends and laugh. It’s always the simple things, isn’t it? Carter says “A good guffaw—or even a little giggle—causes our heart rate and blood pressure to drop and our muscles to relax.”

2. Get in touch literally. It’s easy for family members to feel disconnected in this age of ‘connectivity.’ Massages and hugs from loved ones cause biochemical reactions that change us.

3. Make time for quiet time. Meditation is an antidote for stress and a way to train ourselves for happiness. Step over cynicism. You can’t afford to not make time. Keep a gratitude journal since science proves it effectively improves optimism.

4. Exercise regularly. Stop making excuses. If you have a heart in your chest, you need exercise.

5. Get out in nature. It clears the mind. It doesn’t involve shopping.

6. Be thankful and have an optimistic view of the future. There are blessings right under your nose. We are going to be okay. It’s not naïve to be hopeful. It’s powerful.

7. Be the first on the scene to help other people, even strangers. Imagine if we all begin to apply this! Man oh man, it’s going to be a happy planet.

8. Stay rooted in the present and savor life. It’s not a cold dead place. It’s alive and breathing with meaning right now.

9. Try Seligman’s 3 BLESSINGS exercise. Each day record three things that went well and why. It can have an amazing effect.

10. Be committed to deeply held, lifelong goals. Keep going. You’ll get there.

Michele Ranard has a husband, two children, a master’s in counseling and a blog at hellolovelychild.blogspot.com.

Resources:

Carter, Christine. Raising Happiness: 10 Simple Steps for More Joyful Kids and Happier Parents. Ballantine, 2010.

Center for Disease Control & Prevention, www.cdc.gov

Diener, Ed. Happiness: Unlocking the Mysteries of Psychological Wealth. Wiley-Blackwell, 2008.

Lyubomirsky, Sonja. The How of Happiness: A Scientific Approach to Getting the Life You Want. Penguin, 2008.

Meyers, David G. The Pursuit of Happiness: Discovering the Pathway to Fulfillment, Well-Being and Enduring Personal Joy. Harper, 1993.

Seligman, Martin. Authentic Happiness: Using the New Positive Psychology to Realize Your Potential for Lasting Fulfillment. Free Press, 2004.

You can definitely get published! Try regional markets or parenting pubs before you pitch that million dollar screenplay.

A cool editor asked me these questions.

1. Why approach a parenting publication?  I HAVE A HEART FOR CHILDREN AND A PASSION FOR HELPING FAMILIES AND WANT TO BRING QUALITY CONTENT TO THIS MARKET. IF I'M BRUTALLY HONEST, I HAVE TO ADMIT A WEAKNESS FOR MAGAZINES! I'VE ALWAYS ALWAYS LOVED THEM AND WANTED TO LIVE INSIDE THEM.

2. What type of writing experience did you have? ACADEMIC RESEARCH PAPERS, PROFESSIONAL CORRESPONDENCE, AND SPEECHES.

3. What did you wish you knew when you started writing for parenting publications? IF YOU'RE PASSIONATE ABOUT THE TOPIC AND A DECENT WRITER, THIS IS HALF THE BATTLE. EDITORS WANT TO ACCEPT WELL THOUGHT OUT AND CLEAN SUBMISSIONS. THERE ARE ONLY A FEW SADISTS WHO WILL SAY YOU SHOULD JUST STICK TO BLOGGING.

4. What was hard to learn/accomplish/know when you first started writing for parenting publications? I AM ONE OF THOSE RENEGADE WRITERS SO NOTHING WAS HARD. WITHOUT A RULE BOOK OR JOURNALISM BACKGROUND OR MUCH EGO AT ALL (NO WRITING CLASS OR SEMINAR!) THERE WAS FREEDOM FROM 'HOW WE DO THINGS HERE.' I'M AS SHOCKED AS ANYONE BY MY SUCCESS.

5. Did you look for or ask for writer's guidelines? INITIALLY I DID BUT ONLY A FEW WERE OFFERED. THE PAY IS SO LOW FOR THE PIECES I WRITE THAT IT DOESN'T MAKE GOOD FINANCIAL SENSE TO TAKE THE TIME TO READ GUIDELINES, CHANGE FORMATS...I THINK GUIDELINES TURN MOST GOOD WRITERS OFF UNLESS THEY HAVE TONS OF FREE TIME ON THEIR HANDS.

6. What information could we provide to help you? IF QUALITY, THOUGHT PROVOKING CONTENT IS THE ULTIMATE GOAL THEN A STYLE GUIDE IS NOT WHAT WILL ATTRACT STRONG WRITING. IT'S FREEDOM AND CREATIVITY WHICH FUEL MY PROCESS. FOR HO HUM CHEAP UNIMAGINATIVE FILLER, LOTS OF FORMULA ORGANIZATION MAY BE KEY. BUT READERS ARE BUSY AND DON'T HAVE A GREAT ATTENTION SPAN AND WILL SKIP OR SKIM REGARDLESS OF STRUCTURE...UNLESS...WE MAKE THEM CARE WITH STRONG EVOCATIVE WRITING.

7. What other publications/organizations do you regularly write for? ABOUT 60 PARENTING PUBLICATIONS, ADVERTORIAL, GHOSTBLOGGING, AND PRESS.

8. What tips could you share that have helped you work with those publications/organizations? RESPECT AN EDITOR'S TIME. IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOUR IDEA OR SUBMISSION, EXPRESS THAT PASSION AND BACK IT UP IN A FEW SENTENCES, NOT PAGES. READ YOUR PIECE OUT LOUD FOR FLOW AND CLEAN IT UP BEFORE CLICKING 'SEND.' DON'T BOTHER ANY PUBLICATION WITH MEDIOCRITY OR A SLIGHTLY TWEAKED RECYCLE. BE CLEVER. BE GREAT. BE KIND. GIVE THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, AND YOU WILL DEVELOP AN ATTRACTIVE REPUTATION AS A FREELANCER AND SEE MORE PIECES ACCEPTED.

9. What do you like about writing for a parenting publication? EVEN IF IT'S NAIVE, I BELIEVE THERE IS HONOR IN SHARING WHAT I KNOW, RAISING AWARENESS. EDUCATING, AND ENTERTAINING PARENTS (WHO HAVE THE TOUGHEST JOB ON EARTH AND DESERVE THOUGHTFUL WRITING).

10. What do you not like about writing for a parenting publication? IF I THINK TOO HARD ABOUT THE MONEY I EARN PER HOUR WRITING PARENTING STUFF AS OPPOSED TO OTHER STUFF, IT DEPRESSES THE HECK OUT OF ME. WHY ISN'T THE EFFORT AND THOUGHT MORE VALUABLE IN THE MARKETPLACE? AT TIMES I BECOME PARANOID THAT I'M INVISIBLE AND NO ONE READS THE ARTICLES. ALSO IN LAPSES OF SUPERFICIALITY, IT'S TOUGH TO IMPRESS ANYONE AT A DINNER PARTY. PEOPLE WANT TO HEAR 'TIME' OR 'NEW YORKER' WHEN THEY ASK WHO YOU WRITE FOR. SO I HAVE TO PUT EXTRA EFFORT INTO HOW MY HAIR IS STYLED BEFORE THOSE GATHERINGS.

11. Main profession/occupation? CREATIVE WRITER.

Just notice.

Sage advice dating back to my counselor training days. Just notice doesn't sound heavy. But it is.

What is REALLY being said in the conversation? What is left out? Why is your stomach upset when you do that? Why is your energy zapped around her? Did you see the way the robin just chased the butterfly around that Maple?


Just notice then chew on it. Develop it and discover what it means. Don't expect readers to jump up and down about your awareness. Unless. You can make them care by writing something honest and writing it well.

Whenever a paycheck with my name on it arrives in the mail, I wave it in the faces of my sons, who are now 14 and 18. Sometimes I smack the 14-year-old J. over the head with the envelope because of all the members of the family, he is the most unsupportive of my freelance writing career. He is famous for asking me, "Oh, is it another imaginary check?"

It seems J. cannot fathom that what I do—staring at an LCD screen, guzzling Diet Coke whilst tapping into creativity, and scribbling down dialogue wherever I am—is in fact, a real job.

J. (walking by my office): You’re ALWAYS on Facebook.
Me: I’m not on Facebook, babe. I’m researching a topic for an article.
J.: Oh. You mean you’re doing work for that imaginary job for one of your imaginary articles for your imaginary magazines?
Me: It’s not imaginary. Just because I work on a computer from home doesn’t mean what I do is not real.
J.: Suuuuurrre, it’s real. Except it’s imaginary…(leaves quickly).

My sons and husband tell me when I’m in work mode at my laptop, a ridiculous dramatic expression appears on my face. This mode has in fact inspired a stand-up comedy act the 18-year-old L. performed recently (I bet he'll encore the performance for you in exchange for Taco Bell--but whatever you do, don't call it Taco Bell! My kids are too cool for Taco Bell! It's T. Bell! Trust me!).

His stand-up and my response go something like this:

L. (taking drag of imaginary cigarette, delivered with a kickass Deniro) I AM A WRITER. JUST LOOK AT ME...GLANCE AROUND THE ROOM AT MY LEATHER BOUND LITERATURE COLLECTION. LOOK AT THIS COMPUTER. LOOK AT MY SCOTCH (swigs imaginary scotch from imaginary highball glass).
Me (annoyed): Why? Why? Why? Why does it bother you boys so much that I sit and think and type for my job?
L.: Because it’s imaginary.

I am a petite blonde writer of parenting articles, humor essays, and other nonfiction. I have no idea why that makes me Deniro. I just know I don't deserve this crap from kids who should be cheering me on. I highly doubt Bobbie would take it. And it's gin, not scotch.


Michele has a husband, two children, a master's in counseling, and a blog at hellolovelychild.com.

Few things bring more joy (when you're me) than refreshingly clean crisp rooms.

Getting high on Windex is in my nature. I grew up with neatnick parents who did all the housework while I dreamed, read, or played an instrument.

I got lucky and got someone to marry me who speaks the same language of Lysol which is to say when a space has been polished to near perfection, he smells nurturance, love and sensuality rather than disturbance. He's also not afraid to get his hands dirty and to clean like a mofo. (I'm sure there's a more apt description but 'clean like a bandit' is tragically mild and just not him.)

Our teen sons have yet to embrace their true nature or inner sparklemaker which is to say slobby demons still possess them and call the shots. The column 'Holy Teen Slackers' I wrote for ParentWise this month rants about it. I'm fairly sure Jesus is okay with me confessing to Texans how it helps to think Mary may have sighed 'Oy vey! Having a teen slacker moment...'

Since writing the piece, the slobbier of the teens moved away to college. We miss him and his beautiful soul but not the piles. It's frightening for us to imagine what microbes now lurk beneath the dorm room piles.

There's no place like the mall.

They also sell enormous cinnamon rolls.

Last night at a department store, a gorgeous cosmetics rep let me sample a liquid foundation developed in France. Then she pitched a wrinkle serum she insists will spark a revolution and re-activate my youth in just one week.

No part of me wants revolutionary French goo. Except. Every cell in my body wants the goo. It’s from France. I want ultraviolet damage and my lines erased. In one week. I am middle aged and going to die, and the sight of this beauty queen's skin reminds me of that.

Whatever. I’m more frugal than vain. I won't drop 84 bucks…wait, did she just say seven days? I won’t be consumerized, but I become as passive as a hot dog. A pump's worth of serum not unlike mustard is drizzled on my wrinkly left hand. When commanded to massage it, I obey.

Then I muse, “So it hydrates the skin…is that how it works?” I am waaaaay off.

The skincare expert clarifies: “Noooooo! It gets into your genes!”

(My hormonally-imbalanced self whispers a prayer for help. Seriously. You know you're in trouble when a chromosomal implausibility sounds so utterly COOL.)

I needed to feel less ancient. So naturally I headed to a shop with posters of barely dressed models and deafening dance muzak blaring from the speakers. The fact I know full well this bare-blare combination triggers panic attacks is beside the point.

The point is, I am always a little possessed by a demon at the mall. The point is I found a canvas tote for 70% off, and it looks French! The point is shopping for luxuries is depressing and causes mall syndrome. The point is excessive anxiety leaves me wisdom-impaired and forces me into small talk with 16-year-old goddesses ringing me up.

“I wish this bag had outside pockets like my old one! And it would be nice if more of your dresses had pockets! Ya know? You should pass that along to the powers that be.”

Some of us clearly have the spiritual gift of awkwardness.

Everybody knows "powers that be" trips an uncool-old-geezer switch when spoken loudly over muzak into mall air. It is almost as fatal as “it is what it is.” You could feel it. Mayday! Mayday! There’s an old lady in here!

Her impeccably tweezed brows shot up as she shared: “Ha ha. Yeah. I once bought this dress, and I wore it and then I found out it had pockets! And I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW.”

Her admission temporarily exorcised the demon; no prayer needed. Just sayin. She “didn’t even know.”

Before I left the mall, I passed a chubby grandpa raving to a desperately bored twenty-something guy working at the bookstore. Grandpa yelled “YOU CAN ACTUALLY TAME A TIGER WITH ONE OF THOSE THINGS! IT’S A ONE WAY TRIP TO THE MOON, BUT IT WORKS!”

Maybe he said "Tiger" and not "a tiger." Both work for me. Like free ear candy.

Malls everywhere are struggling to breathe. A sad suburban joke like the midlife me. But the souls within them still connect. Imperfect strangers—some layering on more armor than others—accidentally touch each other and have trippy conversations.

As I exited the bookstore, a young woman with many tattoos held the door. She overheard the yelling grandpa too. We were both grinning. Our eyes met as she mouthed one syllable.

“DAMN!”

Michele has a husband, two children, a master's in counseling, and a blog at hellolovelychild.com.

See, when you write about raising teens or feeling imbalanced or freaking out badly, or all three, it's kinda nice to have some time to get past whatever it is you were ranting about. It's nice in the happier, more stable-er (shut up, I like it) future--I mean present--to read and re-live that more regrettable chapter you were out of your mind with worry or rage or grief. (A BEYOND CRAZY idea just occurred...DUDE...what if I wrote about the times I get it RIGHT as a parent?????Nah.)

If things were published straight away, the wounds would be too fresh (WOUNDS? Ok, busted. I'm a rich American with sometimes rebellious kids...we'll call em 'scrapes'). A few months gives me a chance to hopefully heal and forgive...

until publication when I can feel shame all over again.

A few days ago I wore a white skort with a swoosh like this to WalMart to buy a birthday card. I own several similar skorts and have no clue whether it's vogue to wear them off the tennis court. The truth is, I have a checkered past with skorts. I love their femininity and ease, but they create drama I don't need.

Skorts make me stupid, get me snubbed, and are magnets for geriatric gigolos. Wait, what? Hold that thought.

I've never shared this before. I have genuine skort issues. I wore a fancy one to the University counseling center where I met with my very first client for my first ever session as a 22-year old therapist in grad school. I was extremely nervous. As soon as my client sat down, she complimented I LOVE YOUR SKIRT! I should have said thanks or silently struck a Columbo pose. Who the heck cares about the built-in shorts??? But I regretfully replied OH, IT'S A SKORT! I'M SO DECEITFUL, AREN'T I? HAHAHAHA{unending SCARY laughter}!!!

In the history of psychotherapy, no counselor in training has ever uttered a response so neurotically lame. I should know. I was required to review the videotape of that session with my supervisor (her brows furrowed...who let this freak into our program!?!). Trust. Skorts are the very worst thing to wear to therapy.


Fast forward to WalMart the other day.


There I was in the kicky deceitful skirt with the sleeveless white Nike dri-fit top, running shoes, a mom ponytail and most likely, Covergirl lipstain schmears to my 44-year old front teeth. That's when the sharp dressed fellow hit on me amid the Hallmark (this is the part where my ego would prefer to embellish: the man possessed a certain je ne sais quoi and brought to mind a mature Robert Pattinson...).

Only he did not.

My admirer was closer to Edward Cullen's human age. No capiche? Well, the dude at WalMart approached me with a nonagenarian swagger (um, yeah, I had to look up the term for folks who have blown out more than 89 birthday candles).

The guy was ancient and adorable and said I'M NOT TRYING TO HIT ON YOU, BUT THAT IS THE CUTEST OUTFIT I HAVE SEEN IN SOME TIME. I thanked him. NO NO NO. REALLY. CHAAAAAARRRRRMMMMMINGGGGG! He kept gushing. ARE YOUUUUUUU...HAPPILY MARRIED? I nodded. He continued. BECAUSE I MEAN...CHARMING.

Later he coincidentally (?) bumped into/stalked me near the store's exit.

It was a THAT just happened skort moment that would be totally creepy were it not for the fact I was wearing a most non-hoochie-riffic ensemble and playa was way way older than dirt and pathetic as it may be, I REALLY needed the smile.

A little later it hit me that WOW I MUST BE LOOKIN OLLLLD SINCE SUDDENLY MEN OVER 80 THINK THEY HAVE A SHOT...

And the epipahny both terrified and relieved the happily married no longer naive or practicing psychotherapy lover of skorts.

It’s a phrase turned as often in this house as “there’s nothing to eat” and “I need ten bucks.” Whether Megan Fox is on the screen or there’s a new girl in class to dish about, “she’s so hot” inevitably crops up in daily conversation with me and my teen sons.

My hotness is an issue as well. Specifically, flashes of hotness, mood swings, and assorted pre-menopausal goodies the gynecologist assures will hang out for the next six years.

"I am way too young to be Kitty from That 70s Show,” I told my doctor. This was a lie.

My kids are growing up fast and consumed with the opposite sex at a time I have perhaps never felt more emotionally unstable and unequipped. The 17-year old is serious about Britney, a cheerful blonde hottie with impossibly long legs whom he has dated for more than a year. She rocks Hollister jeans so effectively, during most of her visits I feel compelled to blindfold the husband and younger son.

Britney is a farmer’s daughter—sensible, up at dawn with chores, and a blue ribbon winner at the fair with her designer goats. My son’s girlfriend could be the girlfriend of my dreams if I were not this middle aged basketcase daily brooding over premature grandchildren. If I was not this pathetic sulker dwelling on the reality I have been cast aside as my children’s former source of emotional comfort.

When the boys mention a new girl, they fork over little information so I sift through their clues like a profiler. They are lucky I am frugal and just google the young ladies. Face it. Background checks and P.I.s are expensive.

I might ask "Is she goth?"

Frequently I hear “OMG” as a response, but a “not really” raises a red flag every time.

In my frazzled, six years ‘til lift-off menopausal mind, the implications of gothic-ness run the gamut from peanuts to the paranormal. I mean, sure the hottie could be lovable free-spirited Pippy Longstocking goth-lite. But we could also have a social deviant on our hands, poised to burn the house down for her resentment of French Country design!

The more neurotic this hot mama’s thoughts turn, the more my sons seem to egg her on. The more she is egged on, the more she divides her time worrying about Satan-worshipping sexting stalkers and unwanted pregnancies. How to back off and live with peace and dignity as they date? I really have no clue. During a season I desperately need my wits I seem as emotionally overwrought as the puberty afflicted teens.

Still too young to date, the younger son has a lot to say about the ‘anas. The new girls in his section this year are Briana and Tatiana—the hottest, coolest chicks at school who share his passion for post-hardcore rock and British humor. Rather than accept the fact there will be a hot ‘ana around every corner for my young prince to discover, I instead fixate on the names of these two. It is messed up, I know, and I blame it on my dwindling estrogen supply.

The pronunciation of Briana’s name alienates all sentient beings in the North as well as anyone of European descent. The first syllable Bri is pronounced with a hard i, and the second is anna like the late Miss Smith.

“The Southern Belle version might be okay for school, but she needs to eventually upgrade” I say to him.

“She has options like the Italianesque Bree-ahna, or she could even subtract the ahna and allow the lone Bree to bump her skyward in status.”

That particular conversation was accompanied by a hotflash and followed up with Kitty dialing her OB-GYN’s number FAST.

Additional condemning evidence hot-mama needs professional help surfaces a few days later. When my son reports he will be hanging out with Tatiana after school, I ask about her nickname. After all, it is inconceivable ANY adolescent is brave enough to drag those four soap opera syllables through the halls. When he reveals Tatiana is indeed that brave, I cannot help myself.

“What about the fun-loving ‘Tot’ or even ‘Tator’?”

These hormonally generated suggestions cause my son's face to contort and his lips to say “She is never coming to this house–EVER.”

Obviously I need to move up that doctor’s appointment. No matter how menopausally wigged out or erratic hot mama feels—or how cuckoo for hotpuffs my sons become—there will always be a warm welcome for the ‘itneys and ‘anas at Kitty’s place.

Supervised, but really warm.


Michele has a husband, two children, a master's in counseling, and a blog at hellolovelychild.blogspot.com.

Can digital technology become any more entwined with the way we live than it already is?

Yesterday, on a walk with my sister, she expressed bewilderment about her husband Facebook-ing their teen son from the other room. “I mean, what happened to the phone and texting?” my sister lamented.

“Wait a sec. They were in the same house, and you are questioning why they used Facebook and not a text?” I asked her. That’s when it hit me.

Maybe human vocal chords will become evolutionary baggage and “the new appendix.”

Seriously. This textual revolution is insane, and I’m a part of the textual assault. I’m not even sure I miss old fashioned phone conversations! Your pronunciation of ‘neither’ is no longer an issue, and if you can only spell phonetically you’re suddenly cool.

Life without my phone’s keyboard is becoming unfathomable. Many of us get right to the point in our texts, and life is streamlined (grocery list swiftly beamed to spouse/15-year-old grounded via Facebook/party invitation declined with minimal awkwardness).

Texting told us to shut up, and many of us have. We’ve gone chord-less. Do you suppose it’s just a coincidence that screamo and emo, music genres popular with adolescents and Generation Text, seem designed to eradicate vocal chords too? Sure, it’s tricky to decode a lead screamer’s lyrics. But you’re just one google away from screeching along and wrecking those chords in no time. I smell conspiracy.

Recently at church, the pastor announced an upcoming meeting where members would be provided an iPhone. Texting would allow church members to anonymously respond to questions posed from the pulpit for swift, instant poll results. Holy textual satisfaction! (Are you reading this, Vatican? Isn’t the forgiving of sins whispered into a booth a tad outmoded? Confessions via text messaging could be gloriously convenient for priests and your flock.)

BTW, is sleep really the new sex? Really? Or is text the new sex?

Fingertip chats are not like live conversations. There are no crying kids in the background, no crunching of nacho eating through the receiver. Texts lack non-verbals, tone, inflection, and at times, think-it-through-ness. Urbandictionary calls this tendency of the brain to work slower than the fingertips ‘textual tourettes’.

Text has limits. Most of us lack the ambition to invent sarcasm inflections or to insert “choked up on last word” while the human voice conveys layers of meaning effortlessly. Acrostics, caps, and emoticons enhance understanding, but OMG you risk coming off as a seventh grader or even psycho if you over-use them.

Speaking of emoticons, perhaps facial expressions will also become obsolete. We could carry handheld emo transmitters and flash each other smiles or frowns (of course Botox will have to take partial credit for such a socio-cultural turn).

Yeah, it’s fun to poke Grandma online, but family members NOT over the river and through the woods now text each other which is getting weird. Many of us are engaged in more text conversations with more people than ever, but I’m not sure anyone realizes how this shift is truly affecting us.

In the future, will we giggle about extinct social networks and “those lost years of productivity for the work force when meaningful conversation was replaced with banter and the obsessive broadcasting of mood states?” Or will we see the revolution as a textual healing as we gather in the family room to view the 15th season of “The Office” while mutely texting “LMAO” across the sofa?

Do you think Mary had to nag teen Jesus to the point of psychotic break just to get him to hang his wet towel on the bathroom hook installed by Joseph? We know the Savior at age twelve was feisty and independent-minded (remember the disappearing act for three days in the Temple…can you even imagine the parental anxiety?) But the Bible doesn’t mention whether a fifteen-year-old Prince of Peace navigated a slovenly phase.

Holy crappin’ crap, it somehow helps to think he did.

I’m aware teenagers are famous for their untidiness and that I’m in good company as a parent. But as a hotflashing mom of highschoolers right now—at times held hostage by fluctuating hormones—the slacking pushes me to the limit. Venting, cardio, and prescriptions help calm this hormonal midlife frenzy. Yep, pharmaceuticals sometimes work so well I am too mellow to battle these kids, and you might mistake me for Christ’s mother.

{Color me DELUDED. A blasphemous lie! Though often fatigued, I confess I am never too short on energy for a battle with inconsiderate teens.}

The other day I confronted our son L. “You need to clean this room immediately! How could you possibly stand to live like this?”

L. earnestly responded with the ridiculous comeback he always delivers. “I really like to be able to see all my stuff.”

When I pointed out the 'perspiration and garlic' odor emanating from the space, he reassured me. ‘Cause see, ‘beyond stanky’ is not an issue for him. “It’s all the years of nose spray,” L. sincerely explained. “Can’t smell a thing.”

Leave it to a teen to paint chronic sinusitis and the abuse of decongestants as blessings in disguise.

My younger son J. can still smell but has lost his senses of order and dignity. It’s shocking in light of his history as a saintly neatnick. He was one of those obsessive ‘put every crayon back in the box perfectly’ children who finger-pressed his fresh laundry. Then J. turned thirteen. We never saw Mr. Clean again.

Knowing full well the intensity of my OCD, approaching menopause, and desperate need for an uncluttered nest, the formerly tidy teen carelessly places his backpack as NEAR as physically possible to our hall closet without scooting it inside. This lack of courtesy might be forgivable were it not for the wicked supernatural phenomenon which then occurs—his cursed backpack camouflages itself on the hardwood floor exactly long enough for a dizzy-and-low-on- estrogen-mother-of-Christ-like-female to trip.

Do you know how long it takes a toenail to grow back? I’ll let you know.

I wasn’t always this irritable about clutter and chaos. There was a season when hormonally balanced and high on Windex, I whistled through housework. But that was when my kids were still crooning Barney's clean up song.

My current mood is the result of years of listening to the same three-word adolescent responses to my protests for more household help. “NOT MY FAULT” is second only in popularity to “STOP FREAKING OUT.” It's the result of years of torturous daily teen amnesia in the house. Turning off a running faucet after washing your hands? Far too complicated a request to fulfill during adolescence. My exasperation is the result of growing pathetically aware I have lowered the bar and feel so grateful these sons are rinsing their dirty paws, I simply turn off the tap behind them and don’t even complain about the amnesia.

{Grateful? Color me deluded again. Let’s be honest. Mary was grateful. I’m just too menopausally weary and sick of the sound of my own freakin voice to deal.}

Michele has a husband, two children, a master's in counseling and a blog at hellolovelychild.blogspot.com.

Facing what it means to parent a teen.
by Michele Ranard, M.Ed.
800 wds

Raising teens while navigating the uncharted territory of midlife can be challenging for any parent. It’s confusing. Experts warn of the dangers of too permissive parenting or being their friend (“You’re an authority, not their bud!”). Yet there are plenty of moments it feels perfectly natural to be friendly—to laugh, shop, share music, and learn new things together.

Richard Weissbourd, in The Parents We Mean to Be (Mariner, 2010), explains how the issues associated with our own developmental stage can interact negatively with the issues of our adolescent’s. He writes:

“One reason that relationships between adults and teenagers can become so toxic is that adults can be caught up in the intense self-concerns of a midlife crisis at exactly the same time that their children are caught up in the intense self-concerns of adolescence.”

Changing Our Mindset

If we truly value the moral and emotional development of our teens, we cannot resign ourselves to simply “survive” this chapter raising young adults. We must be sensitive, educated, and more intentional about mentoring. About savoring what is redeeming in this season of the parent-teen relationship.

The relationship is a constantly developing one, and Weissbourd reminds “It’s vital to see ourselves not as static role models but as imperfect human beings, continually developing, in our dynamic relationships with our children, our own moral and mentoring capacities.”

As a counselor and parent who is aware of my imperfections and those of my teens, I think there are intentional ways we may improve the quality of our connections with them.

It’s the Most Important Job on the Planet. Let’s Be Intentional!

Weissbourd describes intentional parenting as “reaching for our better selves,” and I love this idea that the goal is to be reflective rather than reactive. Reflective would be the opposite of automatic responding, or getting lazy, or becoming nostalgic about how good things used to be.

Hopefully these positive reflections will soothe and fill you with hope as you continually make conscious efforts to increase the quality of interaction and learning at home with your teens.

1. Childhood was conquered.

This is no small matter. It wasn’t always rosy—recall chronic tonsillitis, family dinners they could not cut their own pork chop, or demonic temper tantrums thrown in a grocery cart? I bet you both faced and managed much greater stressors than those little snags. Bravo. You both made it.

2. More personal time can be a blessing.

No longer requiring constant supervision (well, sort of), teens are not under your feet so you may have more time now for personal interests. You may be freed up to explore what makes your heart sing, or to devote more time to church, a career, or your spouse.

The pressure to rush home to the sitter or carve out “mommy and daddy time” has passed and is possibly a welcome change. Traveling or entertaining at home? Suddenly in the realm of possibility.

3. The potential for meaningful discussions is there.

As young adults, the ongoing dialogue about morality, faith, ethics, and character has life altering potential. They may call on you for guidance or spiritual dilemmas, and engaging them in such conversations (with compassion and openness) can have soul lifting consequences.

4. Their identity crisis makes you accountable.

As they form opinions and make discoveries about themselves, you are probably under more scrutiny. This can be beneficial for both of you if you acknowledge you too are changing and improving throughout adulthood.

Weissbourd says “Parents may learn to deal with their selfish qualities or defects because they see the damage they cause to their children, or because they see these qualities reflected in their children’s qualities or actions.”

5. Household help helps.

Strong arms around capable of operating a vacuum, the microwave, or the washing machine is a welcome change. It’s good for them to help. Even if you have to nag, sending them out to pick up a pizza is a perk. And it’s easy to forget that just a short time ago you had to drag them with you on those boring errands.

6. A world of sweet things to enjoy now that they’re older.

Whether it’s a sitcom you both find hilarious, a sports team, cars, a book series, or pilates—don’t forget such activities were not options when they were younger. You likely yielded to their child-related interests and developmental needs of the time. Now new options await you.

Listen to Your Heart

Pay attention only to media often skilled at scaring you to death about teens, and you may be horrified or convinced you are raising Generation Slut, Generation Me, or the Lost Generation. But our children are counting on us to see them with loving eyes as they are: full of potential, worthy, and cherished.

We just have to be sensitive enough to notice. So notice.

Michele Ranard has two fabulous teenagers, a master’s in counseling, and a blog at hellolovelychild.blogspot.com.

Resources:

Weissbourd, Richard. The Parents We Mean to Be: How Well Intentioned Adults Undermine Children’s Moral and Emotional Development. Mariner, 2010.

It is incredibly hard not to suck.

Tonight I've been editing essay stuff written in the last few weeks (some of it was even posted), and it's all crap. All.

I am disgusted

and overwhelmed

and thinking I may need a break, a change of scenery, a new career, or stronger prescriptions.

Lilacs are blooming. School's out for the summer. The teen-natives in our house are restless. You know what that means. Arts and crafts! Slip 'n Slide! Library central! Maybe. But not really. Actually, it’s moshing season for our highschoolers who like to thrash.

Do you speak mosh? Before I translate, you should be briefed on my current state of 'approaching menopause': a hormonal hot mess. Word on the street is moshing could be the next big thing for hotflashing hotties at midlife. We’ve got rage. We are already dripping with sweat. It's a second adolescence, and we like totally have the cash to pay the cover or whatev. Damn it, we need options beyond retail therapy, Pinot Grigio, and roller derby!

Except. Moshing is insane-o-cidal. YES, we need to blow off steam, but I’m not certain dance which ultimately seeks to cripple and maim is a worthy pharmaceutical substitute. Mosh is more than freestyle, “anything goes” body-slamming. It’s a science, and arguably, a religion. For example:

1. Footwear. If a shoe falls off while kicking it at a show, realize you are DONE dancing. Do not attempt to locate the shoe, delicately slip back into it, or busy your hands with laces. That shoe is history, and it’s best to get on with your life and resume thrashing (with a modicum of caution for the vulnerable shoeless tootsie). If the band takes a break you may have two seconds to step into the shoe. But you should honestly just resign yourself to barefootin’ it home.

2. When to Mosh. Unless you're feeling masochistic, do not EVER mosh to the sound check or the in-between band’s house music. What's wrong with you? There's a time and a place for moshlove, and while a dude recites the alphabet into the mic before showtime is not one of them. That house music before the band stumbles on stage? Also not the time for love! You could get yourself dead.

3. Injuries. Stop worrying about blood. It’s the nectar of mosh and releases mosh happy endorphins in the brain. Bleeding is under-rated! In fact, you’re not living up to your true potential if your lip is not bloodied at least once during a show. Make friends with pain. Embrace the sensation of accidentally stapling your tongue to the wall.

4. Prohibitive Busting of Moves. There’s plenty of room for originality and creativity while leaping and swatting invisible gnats in a circle pit. But do not under any circumstance decide to two-step. Trust. You’re better off strangling yourself with your intestines. Also, think twice before moshing with a drink, machete, or a cigarette in your hand. Your co-moshers don’t have to put up with that insensitive crap.

5. Gender Bias. It should be apparent by now that if you have a vagina, you have no business being anywhere near a testosteroney mosh pit. Duh. Even if you’re that free-spirited skater chick with zero fear for head injuries who believes there are worse ways to check out than death-by-mosh, stay the hayull away from the pit.

6. Circle Pit Etiquette. Inspired to join the pile-up in a mosh pit? Take heed. Do not ever pile unless (A) you know the words to the song, and (B) you intend to hit someone. Nobody wants your “pretending to know the lyrics, tentative, wussy a$$ self who can’t dish out pain” in the pile up. And just because you’re brave enough for the pile-up doesn’t mean you’re ready for the “wall of death.” As you rush at top speed with your eyes closed toward the dudes running at you, yes, there will be fleshy contact. You’ll smash another guy’s neck with your fist as hard as you can, and it’s perfectly acceptable as long as “hard as you can” is not “too friggin hard.”

One more thing. Don't become overwhelmed by the rules or overanalyze. No need to be a brain surgeon to understand or enjoy mosh...you just need to make friends with a really good one.

Michele has a husband, two children, a master's in counseling and a blog at hellolovelychild.blogspot.com.

An old friend in Georgia I haven’t seen in years facebooked me a few months ago after he read an essay I wrote about the moshing antics of my sons. He wanted to know if I was just embellishing as a writer, and if not, whether my husband and I just fork over the health insurance card to the moshers on their way out the door.

I really wish the answer was yes, I make up this crap for good copy. But my kids truly are this insane and honestly do habitually place themselves in pits. Yes, there is the possibility at a concert they will lose teeth or their ability to procreate (the teens would shudder at the blasphemous use of “concert” here. IT’S A SHOW, MOM! NOT A CONCERT! My apologies.).

Our 17-year-old son L. was in Chicago Saturday to see Emarosa for their Squash the Beef tour. I don’t know what “squash the beef” and mosh conjure up for you, but if you have sons, I have an idea.

Of course, we worry a little when the boys head off to a show! They always meet a host of characters in line for tickets, and moshers do seem to be a relatively loving crowd of headbangers. But what about the thrashers who love happy cabbage (and happy dust) and in their wasted state may inadvertently squash the beef?

The afternoon following the show, L. proudly revealed to me an epic purple and gold souvenir across his midsection. It's this sort of stuff that widens the generation and gender gap in our house. Genuine pride! For internal bleeding from strangers kicking and smacking each other to the “music” of vomit sounds!

In spite of my preference for minimal slugging and groin kicking while grooving with fellow “Seal” fans at a concert, I do understand the infectious high energy these rockers tap into at moshfests. There are plenty of days as a mid-life mama I can relate to Emo and pent up rage. 

Sure, depression and despair are common to both middle age and adolescence. Also rage. Negative energy needs to be burned; I get it. I was right there thrashing old school at A Flock of Seagulls circa 1982. But I’ll still never fully comprehend a boy's joy for a flesh wound sustained while dancing.

L. (lifting shirt): Look at this one.

(Displays irregular bruise the size of a large hoagie on the soft flesh above waist.)

Me: Why?

L.: It was amazing. I was passed all the way up to the stage. I almost touched Johnny Craig. I really wanted to touch him.

Me: But the bruising—you didn’t get that from moshing?

L.: No. Somebody just smashed me in the side as hard as they could while I crowd surfed. Look at this one too!

Me: Yeah. Your school colors. Let’s take a picture.

Clearly a Kodak...errrrr...Ko-Wack moment. Something sacred in a gnarly, half-misunderstood, post-moshtrocity, mother-son moment to giggle about someday with his grandkids.

If the family beef is not squashed in a mosh pit.

Michele has a husband, two children, a master's in counseling and a blog at hellolovelychild.blogspot.com.

Our son L. has incredible long-term memory. Although he cannot possibly be expected to remember to turn off the tap after washing his hands (THIS IS THE CRAPTASTIC TRUTH), he can indeed recall the menu selections in the cafeteria on Flag Day in second grade. Unfortunately for me and my husband, he can also recall every misstep we ever took as parents. In fact, both of our sons have peerless retention for those.

This truth became exceedingly clear on a recent car ride to the dentist when my sons revealed that because of at least one of my transgressions, they are indeed scarred for life.

Me: I’m writing a parenting article on kids and delay of gratification. I think I did a pretty decent job of teaching you guys that patience stuff, right?

The car remains silent.

Me: Like remember when I’d say, “We’re gonna run into the store real quick, so you need to be good, okay?” What do you think of when you hear that?

L. (elder son, solemnly): Two shakes. OH MY GOCK, TWO SHAKES. That is my entire CHILDHOOD in two words.

‘Gock’ is not a typo. My sons have always cursed creatively in order not to get smacked. And can I just say I think my son was being overly dramatic? His childhood was exceedingly happy. In two words, his youth could be summed up as sunshine and cookies.

J. (younger son, pained as if punched in the gut): OHHHHHHHHHHHH. SHOPPING! TWO SHAKES. TWO SHAKES. I hated you. That was the WORST. TWO SHAKES.

So now I get to hear about how the other one (who is as theatrical as his brother) hated me for simply taking the time to teach a little delay of gratification.

L. (sincerely): I think I might throw up. You said two shakes so much, and I never EVER understood it. Who says that anyway? What does two shakes even MEAN?

It is staggering to think they never understood a lick of the admittedly old fashioned ‘two shakes’ and never bothered to ask. Were they imagining Dairy Queen? Booty shakin’?

Me (in shock): It’s two shakes. Like of a lamb’s tail. Very quickly.

L.: A LAMB? A tail? That is even worse.

J.: I never knew what it meant. That is so not legit. You make no sense. Two shakes was never quick.

Me (utterly deflated): It is legit. Two shakes. Or ‘hold on just a sec.’ Like when you guys wanted a puppy, and I said ‘That’s a fantastic idea. Two shakes. First, we’ll research it.’ And then six months later, we got the puppy. Delay of gratification. Two shakes. Remember J.? I'd say ‘Mommy will get you Twizzlers in two shakes.’

J.: I HATED that. I don’t even wanna live.

L.: Ugggggh. You said it constantly. You scarred us for life.

I had no idea. I only wanted a little encouragement for the parenting article on waiting. Who knew painful wounds would be ripped open? It appears that someday these sons will lounge on a therapist’s couch and recount the horrors of a failing mommy and a lamb’s tail!

Please. I have made more than my fair share of parenting mistakes—it’s the toughest gig ever. But I stand by TWO SHAKES. I do. I’ve got to trust my gut that no matter how outdated, two shakes was a magnificent teaching moment even if these two ultimately grow up to be psychotic sociopaths.

At least they’ll be patient psychos.

(By the way, the dudes had their revenge. After the sting of their baggage, I lost all freelancing mojo and could not complete that dang parenting article.)

Michele has a husband, two children, a master's in counseling and a blog at hellolovelychild.blogspot.com.