Archive for the 'Kids' Category

Why are girls so mean?!

Published April 19, 2012 Creative Families , Creative Life , Creativity Coaching , Essays , Kids , Social Commentary 3 Comments
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Tonight I comforted my 1o-year-old daughter – again – about her break-up with her best friend. It wasn’t her idea. So while she is struggling to understand why her best friend no longer wants to be her best friend, her former best friend has moved on and is doing just fine with her new best friend. And it is getting uglier every day. I hug her as she sobs and describes in painstaking detail about the latest transgression with the ‘new best friend.’ And I feel completely, utterly at a loss to explain to her what is happening and why.

My daughter is on the far right. This is not the best friend she broke up with. It is someone she met once, one hour earlier...at an age before girls start turning on each other.

How do you explain to her that girls – all people – can be mean? Really really mean? That they don’t care that you go home at night and cry your heart out after holding in your feelings all day long? I’m not a psychologist. I’m just a mom. I’ve seen the movie “Mean Girls” and heard about the book “Queen Bees and Wannabees.” But sitting there on my daughter’s bed, seeing her lip quivering as she tried to hold back the tears, I could remember nothing from either the movie or the book in that moment.

It used to be so easy when she was younger. There was some drama, but now in fourth grade, it seems to have reached a new level. My first reaction is to comfort her and tell her I’m sorry she is having to go through this. I hug her. I listen to the stories. I empathize. I rack my brain to come up with something, anything, to tell her that will help. But I can’t fix it. I’m no expert on behavior. All I can do is tell her what I know to be true.

1. You don’t need 527 friends. Just one or two real ones. This is a tough one to explain when you are not the popular girl. My daughter has already been bullied in school and via text, though. She knows what it’s like every day to not be the popular girl – and what it’s like when the popular girl suddenly drops you. It’s a bitter, painful lesson and I hate to see her learn it. But I know she must. It’s part of growing up, made so much more complicated in our 24/7, always-on world full of technological ways to be bullied and reminded that you are on the outside looking in.

2. Own your part. I remind my girl of how she behaved badly at times when she was the best friend of the popular girl. She cries a little more, but I don’t let up on her. I remind her that others felt then just as badly as she feels now. Remember this, I tell her. Now that you know how it feels, you must be sure that you never, ever make anyone else feel the way you do right now. She nods. I know that I will need to remind her of this again. But I can see the seed is planted.

3. Be yourself. It’s hard to explain to a child that in a world where conformity is the norm, that it’s best to be your true self. When you do, you will make friends who see you for who you truly are and appreciate and love you for who you really are – warts, goofy humor, big feet and all. It may not happen tomorrow. It may not make you the most popular girl in school now. But you will have better, deeper friendships. You will be happier with who you are because you are not looking for someone else’s stamp of approval. You are the only one who give yourself that.

But my daughter is still learning who she is. She knows, but I think in weak moments like this, she forgets. So I remind her. I tell my daughter all that I know to be true about her: she is smart, creative, artistic, musical, funny, and sweet. I tell her she is an original and has a spark that lights her up inside. She listens to this very carefully. She desperately needs to hear this, to have herself mirrored back to her because right now she has lost sight of who she is. And at 10, she doesn’t know yet who she is, and the road before her to figure that out is long and hard. I want to make sure I give her the right tools for the journey.

4. You can’t control others, only how you react to them. I have to remind myself of this all the time, I tell her. You can drive yourself crazy trying to make someone like you or wishing they would change or treat you better or that things would go back to the way they were. But it is a waste of energy because you can’t change someone else. Never. Ever. So focus on what you can control and change: yourself.

5. Your feelings are perfectly normal. But it’s what you do with them that matters. I pull out the book I am reading, Emotional Intelligence 2.0, and show her a picture of the brain that shows how feelings enter the limbic part of the brain first, where emotions are experienced. The picture shows that beyond that part of the brain is the rational center of the brain. Some people get stuck in the emotional part of the brain and don’t connect to the rational part, so that they can understand and analyze the feelings to try to make sense of them. Not all kids are into this kind of thing, but my daughter loves to see the science and order behind the chaos. She asks to see the book and studies the picture. And you know what? It calmed her. It made sense to her. She needed that because feelings don’t always make sense and they can be big and scary.

In the end, I turn to my words because as a writer, it is all I have. I ask my daughter: what is the center of the universe? And she says, the sun. And I ask her: who is the sun of your universe? She looks down at her stuffed bear. I tell her that right now, she is making her ex-friend the center of her universe. I tell her that she needs to be the center of her own universe. She looks up at me, hopeful, and I can see that she gets it.

I don’t tell her that someday she may have a child who will become the new center of her universe. There is time for that later. For now, tonight, she needs to know that making anyone else the center of your universe – whether it’s a best friend, a spouse, the popular girl in school – will throw your entire universe off balance. And you will cry yourself to sleep every night.

Be the center of your own universe, I tell my daughter. You are smart. You are funny. You are sweet. You are musical and artistic. You are an original. You are creative. You are loving. You are loved.

I only hope my words did not fail me tonight.

Drinking and decorating: The anti-Martha-Stewart-Pottery-Barn Christmas tree

Published December 17, 2010 Creative Families , Creative Life , Creative Parenting , Essays , Fun , Kids , Social Commentary 8 Comments
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Two years ago, I turned over the job of decorating my Christmas tree to my kids, then ages 7 and 9. We had just moved into our “new” 54-year-old house that needed a lot of TLC and was sucking the life out of us. After months of looking for new places for our furniture, artwork, books, games, dishes, and walking into walls in unfamiliar rooms in the middle of the night and grasping for unfamiliar light switches, the thought of having to find a good place for the Christmas tree was the last straw. I sat on the floor of the house that still felt like someone else’s and cried.

This was not Christmas as I’d known it growing up. Holidays were BIG at my house and consisted of cleaning, cooking, shopping, baking, more cleaning, coordinating outfits, practicing Christmas songs on the organ (I know, right???), wrapping, more cleaning, making cookies, making pierogis, and more cleaning. My mother spent days arranging decorations in the house; she was Martha Stewart before anyone had heard of Martha Stewart.

I was never permitted to touch the “good” tree upstairs, but I was allowed to decorate the “other” tree in the basement. I call it the consolation tree. (Usually my mother would come down later and rearrange all the ornaments again anyway.) Secretly I fear I’ll never be good enough to put together the good tree.

See, that’s why the holidays are tricky. There’s all this pressure to be merry and buy stuff but it’s also fraught with memories, good and bad. Sometime after Halloween, I remember all the old family holiday parties and every year, there are a few less faces around the table. Some years are harder than others. That year in our new old house was a hard one.

So I let my kids decorate the good–the only–tree all by themselves that year, and it was so much fun we decided to make it a new Miles family tradition. We play holiday music. I make hot chocolate.  The kids dance around all hopped up on sugar cookies. They make me wear the Santa hat with the reindeer antlers. But they take their job very seriously. Each ornament is placed with great care and consideration, although I have the most random, crazy mix of ornaments you could possibly imagine. It’s enough to make Martha’s toes curl.

The reactions to their decorating efforts are usually…not good. People walk in, look at the tree and say things like, “Oh my!” or “Were you drinking and decorating again?” It makes me wonder sometimes how my mom felt when she stood back, alone, to survey her tree and the trimmings and the perfection. I would ask, but her last Christmas was 16 years ago. If she could see my tree now, she would immediately shoo me out of the room so she could fix it. I would let her do it, but only if she wore the Santa hat with the reindeer antlers, which she’d hate because it would mess up her hair.

So yeah, my tree looks disheveled and a little tipsy, kind of like me after the neighborhood holiday party–OK, all of the neighborhood parties–and the complete opposite of any tree ever featured in Pottery Barn.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

How are your words disabling you?

Published August 25, 2010 Business , Creative Life , Creative Parenting , Creative Writing , Creativity Coaching , Kids , Social Commentary , Work Life 8 Comments
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The other day I was feeling blue and typed these words into Google: “feel like you’ve lost your way.” Curiously, one of the first search results was  the Happiness Project; the author wrote a book and blog about a year she spent testing all the advice, theories and conventional wisdom about how to be happy.

I skimmed the article–it was a little too happy for me–and scrolled down to the comments to see how people reacted. One commenter posted a link to Aimee Mullins’ speech, ”The opportunity of adversity“ on TED. (If you aren’t familiar with TED, you might find this article from FastCompany interesting.)

Curious, I clicked. Ms. Mullins, who had to have both legs amputated below the knees when she was an infant, discusses the dictionary definition of  “disabled.” The writer in me immediately recoiled–starting with a dictionary definition is a standard way to begin a term paper, but writers are encouraged to think more creatively.

But when the screen goes black and the defining words for “disabled” pop up one at a time in white type, it’s quickly forgotten. She reads each word aloud–every sad, miserable word. I feel the weight of each word bearing down on me even though I am not physically “disabled.”

Mullins says that when she repeated this definition to a friend, her voice cracked in the middle and she had to stop. Despite all of her tremendous accomplishments–model, actress, paralympic athlete, truly inspiring human being–the negative definition of “disabled” broke her.

This is the power of words.

This is why I take my job as a writer seriously. Words can change the way people think. Words can persuade, inform, enlighten, but they can also hurt, destroy, maim, define…disable. They are more powerful than weapons. That old saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” is wrong. Words can and do hurt.

But wait, there’s more. Mullins redefines “disabled” as a crushed spirit. She literally rewrites the definition of “disabled.” When I hear this, I begin to cry. And I am not a crier. When I repeat this story to Hubby, I tear up again. He looks at me strangely–are you…crying???

This is the power of words.

Words can crush your spirit. And there is nothing more sorrowful in my mind. OK, sure, death sucks. But as a friend of mine once said in her sage way, “We all have to die someday. Can’t hang around forever.” With death, life is over. But how long can you live with a crushed spirit? How long would you want to? What kind of life is that? I imagine it’s like living with Alzheimer’s. You are a shadow of the person you used to be or could be. You are never whole again. You are never the same. You are damaged. Hurt. Disabled.

Mullins also posits that adversity gives us a sense of ourselves, that it’s a part of life rather than something that we need to just get through, emerging unscathed on the other side. She suggests that adversity is “change you haven’t gotten used to yet.”  Hence, “the opportunity of adversity.”

This is the power of words. A shift in thinking. A different way of looking at the world, at change. I don’t know what I’m going to do with this yet. But it has made me rethink how I “disable” myself and those around me, often unintentionally. I resolved to work on three things:

Use less “disabling” words. I’ve tried to remember to say thank-you more and share positive feedback. It’s easy and tempting to harp on what’s wrong rather than focus on what’s right. For example, I sent Hubby an email that just said “have a nice day” instead of the usual to-do list. I told a friend who always shows grace under pressure how much I admired her strength and courage. I am trying to remember to say something nice to myself, too, but that one is harder. :)

Examine unintentional “disabling” actions. School starts this week and I remembered how crushed my son was last year when one of his B grades slipped back to a C in a class he had worked very hard to improve. Hubby and I always told both kids that letter grades don’t matter; it’s the effort and learning that count. But our reward system–$5 for A’s, $3 for B’s, nothing for C’s–was negating our words.

I told my kids that effective immediately, we would reward them for effort, not specific letter grades. My daughter shrugged, but my son visibly relaxed;  a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. I am on the lookout for other ways I may be disabling someone, unintentional as it may be.

Stop disabling myself. I am my own worst enemy. I take on too much work. I multi-task to the nth degree. I burn myself out. So this week I cut myself some slack. I asked for help at work. I came home one night exhausted and burnt out and put myself to bed instead of forcing myself to continue working on a project that I was stuck on.

Another night, I gave myself permission to snuggle with my kids instead of going to the gym because “I should.”  On a Saturday, which I might normally spend cleaning, I stocked up on healthy food and went to the gym to reward myself instead of eating chocolate. (Huge for me, by the way. I should own stock in Hershey’s.)

I feel better today than I did when I first Googled “feel like you’ve lost your way.” Maybe I didn’t lose it so much as disable myself from seeing it. I think I’m on the right path again.

How do you unintentionally “disable” yourself or someone else? What can you do to embrace adversity and see it as opportunity or “the change you haven’t gotten used to yet?”

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Want to be more creative? Be a failure!

Published July 14, 2010 Business , Creative Families , Creative Life , Creative Parenting , Creativity Coaching , Kids , Social Commentary , Work Life 3 Comments
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My eight-year-old daughter has a pet cantaloupe. The errant melon appeared in our truck after a party last weekend; she discovered it in on the floor in the back seat as we were getting ready to leave. Was it a practical joke? Was it a case of mistaken vehicle? We’ll never know. But instantly, my daughter decided it would make a great pet. She named it Bob. He looks quite nice in her visor, don’t you think?

I am telling you this because taking chances–in your creative work, in your life, in business–is a tricky business, unless you are eight years old and don’t realize that no one has a pet cantaloupe or you have heaps of self-esteem and could give a hoot what people think of you. Since the only eight-year-old who reads–ok, glances at–my blog is my daughter, I’m guessing you are somewhere in between that rock and hard place.

Think about it: when was the last time you did something silly, something really out there, without needing 5-10 adult beverages first? No one likes to say, “I failed,” or

Continue reading ‘Want to be more creative? Be a failure!’

Would your life be easier if you weren’t creative?

Published July 7, 2010 Creative Families , Creative Life , Creative Parenting , Creativity Coaching , Kids 6 Comments
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My ten-year-old son has always had what I call “big feelings.” It’s more than being sensitive–he feels things more intensely and deeply than others do. It’s a blessing and a curse: while his “big feelings” makes him the sweet, loyal and creative person that he is, this intensity also makes it hard for him to shake off things that others don’t think twice about.

Recently, a really smart person explained to him that people who have such deep feelings are special because they experience the world in a way that some people never do–but if you’re not careful, if you don’t find a way to manage those deep feelings, they can overwhelm you.

And it hit me: this is what it’s like to be creative. Continue reading ‘Would your life be easier if you weren’t creative?’

3 creative ideas for Easter fun with kids

Published April 3, 2010 Creative Families , Creative Life , Creative Parenting , Kids Leave a Comment
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Easter is all about family, food and fun. Here are three creative ideas to make your holiday more fun. Best of all, you don’t have to be a ‘craft master’ to do any of them (I would never tell you to do something that I couldn’t do myself, and I can’t craft my way out of a paper bag.) Enjoy!

1. Let the kids hide some eggs for you. It’s fun to fill the eggs, hide the eggs, then watch the kids run around trying to find them. And the look on their faces when they score a “cool” egg filled with their favorite candy or treat? Quick, grab the camera!

This year, let the kids experience the joy of doing something fun for someone else. Help younger ones Continue reading ’3 creative ideas for Easter fun with kids’

How to start a family holiday journal

Published December 1, 2009 Creative Families , Creative Life , Creative Parenting , Creativity Coaching , Holidays , Kids Leave a Comment
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So you’re thinking about starting a family holiday journal–good for you! It’s a great way to capture your family’s holiday experiences, traditions and wishes in their own words and handwriting. Plus, it’s simple, inexpensive and fun for everyone.

For older relatives who may be uncomfortable writing or have vision problems, ask them what they remember and write it down for them. Little kids can draw or scribble on the page.

Journaling can help older kids write better and think more creatively, even if writing is not their favorite thing. My son, who is 10, does not like to write (yes, this kills me because I am a writer), but he eagerly writes in our holiday journal. It’s fun to look back and see what we were all thinking and doing.

For little kids, pretend to “interview” them and write down their answers. Take it up a notch and pretend like you are one of their favorite TV or book characters. You’d be surprised at how important kids feel when you take the time to ask them questions and write down the answers–it can lead to some interesting conversations!

The Rules:
There’s only one rule: Continue reading ‘How to start a family holiday journal’

Helping kids learn how to let it roll–literally

Published October 14, 2009 Creative Families , Creative Life , Creative Parenting , Creativity Coaching , Kids Leave a Comment
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Got a little kid who can’t let little things “roll off her shoulders”? Grab a small soft ball and tell her to pretend that the ball is the annoyance–the pesty sibling, the dog, her anger that you’re out of Lucky Charms and she’ll have to eat eggs and toast and strawberries. Then ask her to stretch her arms to her sides, even with her shoulders, and lean slightly to the right.

Now roll the ball across her shoulders, shift her right shoulder down and let the ball fall to the floor. As you do this, say a short key phrase that’s easy to remember, like “Let it roll” or “Let it go.” This helps her imagine “letting something go” in a concrete way. And it’s funny to pretend your brother is a ball careening to the floor–”Whoops! There goes Jack!”

Have fun with it! Do it once or twice, as often as you like; eventually you can just say your key phrase in the moment she needs it, a little cue to help her remember to let go of the small stuff.

 

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