Entry #9: Parenting at Three Months

Posted on June 3, 2013 by admin

Month Three: Gonzo Parenting

So, here’s how reading time in the Goldfinger house went today. I read the twins a picture book about a neon pink bird who makes friends with a purple hippo. By the end of the book, I’m telling the kids – “If you ever see any of these animals in any of these bizarre colors, something is not okay. Call a nature doctor. (Yes, a nature doctor, that is their official title.) Because either the animals are very sick or you are on drugs. And you’re probably out wandering aimlessly in the Nevada desert. So you should just call mommy and she’ll come pick you up. Don’t worry, you won’t get in trouble. Just call, collect. You can call collect. It’s fine. Especially if you see the elephant from page two wedged in the back of a Cadillac convertible waving at you to join him for a ride, resist the temptation. Just call Mommy. Collect is fine. Or text. Or transmit an IM through the microchip implanted in your brain. Whatever mode of communication is in vogue at that point, please use it.”

Thinking about the twins’ current perspective of life, these surreal books make sense. Their everyday experiences must be a lot like an acid trips described by Hunter S. Thompson. With little understanding of cause and effect and no object permanence (object permanence is the understanding that things still exist when you cannot see, smell, touch, or sense them), their perception of their lives must be a collection of fractal experiences where people and objects appear from nowhere and for rarely any reason at all. In their world, hippos can be purple, teddy bears are alive, and a landlocked little boy can escape to a land of wild things by sailboat. While I find my more cynical adult self being jaded about, and sometimes hypercritical of, Babylandia, I also love being a part of their mystical, magical world.

 

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Appreciating Fathers

Posted on June 1, 2013 by admin

For Father’s Day many years ago, my then 6-year-old daughter bought her dad a coffee mug at the school store that said, “World’s Best Mom.”  She said it was the only present left at the store. Sixteen years later, my husband still drinks his morning coffee out of that mug.  So, yes, an important skill for a Dad is appreciating the little things kids do that mean so much.

But what else makes a memorable dad? I thought I’d take a random, unscientific survey and ask the question, “What comes to mind when you think of your father?”  Here are some of the responses:

Ben (age 6) – “He’s my Daddy!”

Alyssa (age 25) – “A father is someone who loves you and that’s that.”

Fran (early 60’s) – “My father was patient and kind with a great sense of humor. From the time I can remember he was always there for me, and even as our family grew to become a family of 8 children, he never lost his patience, kindness and sense of humor. I was fortunate to have him as a father.”

Roy (mid-50’s) – “My father was my main male role model and provided the blueprint for all the relationships with men that I have today. Taught me the Manly Arts of shaving, discretion, self-control,and how to use a wrench.”

So, there you have it. A father’s work, although many times taken for granted, is nevertheless very needed and all-important. Tell the fathers in your life how much you appreciate them.

by Claire Gawinowicz, Certified Parenting Educator

 

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Jackie’s Journey # 8: Month Two: Impresssions of Life

Posted on May 29, 2013 by admin

Monet and I: Impressions of Life

The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines Impressionism as “1: a theory or practice in painting especially among French painters of about 1870 of depicting the natural appearances of objects by means of dabs or strokes of primary unmixed colors in order to simulate actual reflected light; 2: the depiction (as in literature) of scene, emotion, or character by details intended to achieve a vividness or effectiveness more by evoking subjective and sensory impressions than by recreating an objective reality.”

The past few months have been a collection of “dabs” of time, space, and events that are quickly assembling themselves into the impressionistic memory of my children’s first year. While these memories will probably not be completely factually or realistically accurate, in part thanks to sleep deprivation, they will form the foundation of my relationship with the twins. So I’ve tried to emphasize the good memories in my own mind. I want whatever memories come from the fractured, messy days of infancy to be a warm, soft-focused Monet rather than a sharp, hostile Pollack. As a result, I’ve become a fan of lists of favorites. Instead of trying to write entire stories in their baby books, which I’m usually too tired to do any way, I’ve just created list headings like “Music,” “Books,” and so on. It only takes a few seconds to jot a moment or comment on a list or create a new one. My lists are the small, detailed brush strokes of our daily lives which will become our lasting impression of infancy.

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What does it mean to be a Mother?

Posted on May 9, 2013 by admin

Mother’s Day Mantra

Here we are again coming up on that second Sunday in May that honors Mothers in America. In 1912, Anna Jarvis trademarked the phrases “second Sunday in May” and “Mother’s Day”. She specifically noted that “Mother’s” should “be a singular possessive, for each family to honor their mother, not a plural possessive commemorating all mothers in the world.” In my mind, this is a much needed distinction.

I believe that the word “Mother” should always be capitalized. It also should be coined a verb rather than a noun. To actually be one, or act in that capacity, requires a lot of doing, a lot of sacrificing, and a lot of nurturing and caring; not to mention meeting a child’s basic needs. Biologically birthing someone doesn’t make you a mom. While there are no perfect parents, here are some action words that I think should be mandatory in defining the word:

Mother (muth’er), v.  1. Any action of unconditionally loving a child and taking  “good” care of his/her emotional and physical needs. To the best of her ability, providing care, concern, support and a soft place to fall for her child. Putting a child’s best interests first whenever possible. Worrying about and loving said child for the rest of his natural life …. This is a title that must be earned, not just given.

This sounds like a more correct definition to me. Unfortunately, not everyone has or have such people in their lives.  As I stated before, it is not enough to simply give birth to a child to earn that distinction. You must do the heavy lifting of actually raising that child. Whether you are an adopted Mom, a foster Mom, or a step-Mom doing her best to implement the aforementioned acts, you deserve to be recognized on this auspicious day. Although, part of the act of Mothering is expecting nothing in return, I admittedly do.

I want for my son to grow up to be a good person who has morals and values and uses good judgment. I want my son to appreciate me just a little for putting a hot meal on the table, chauffeuring him around, and washing his clothes, etc. I love it when he randomly says, “I love you Mom” without wanting anything in return. I wouldn’t mind more of that! I want my son to give me hugs and kisses of affection, although he’s not the demonstrative type. I want my son to be able to come to me when he has a problem. I want him to recognize that I did/am doing the very best I can for him.    Unfortunately, not everyone has had a good model or example to follow of how to be a good Mother.  Some of us may have been abandoned, abused physically or verbally, raised by mentally ill or drug/alcohol addicted mothers not actively seeking treatment. That’s why I propose that the word Mother be redefined in our culture. The title should have to meet some basic requirements. It is a hands-on job. A child doesn’t come with an instruction manual. Fortunately, the Center for Parenting Education provides tips, tools and suggestions for how to be a Mother to someone in healthy ways.

If you are doing it to the best of your ability and trying to meet the emotional and physical needs of any child, biological or not, then by all means, you should be celebrated or honored, even if it is only you that recognizes it.

In my definition, it takes a lot of action words to earn the title of Mother.  Setting aside one day a year to honor that dedication and commitment seems only fair.  And, in my opinion, all those who are truly giving it their best effort, deserve to be praised on the day.

Posted in Judy-isms | 3 Comments

This Mothers Day, Share Your Family Stories

Posted on May 1, 2013 by admin

“But there’s a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother’s story, because hers is where yours begin.”
― Mitch Albom, For One More Day

I call this my fairy tale because it is a story of struggle with a very happy ending: Once upon a time my husband and I decided to have a baby. Unfortunately nothing was happening, and many years of agonizing fertility treatments later it was determined that we may never conceive.

After much soul-searching, we decided to adopt. We knew a lengthy process lay ahead of us but we were committed. For a whole year we researched; we attended meetings and support groups; we filled out countless forms; but and we persevered. We were two short months away from getting our baby, when lo and behold, on Christmas Eve no less, I found out I was pregnant.

We really wanted both babies, but the adoption agency’s rule was if you became pregnant, the adoption was cancelled. My emotions were all over the place: I was ecstatic to be pregnant, yet sad that I would never get to know the baby we were so close to adopting. But after all those years of stress, how could I not be thrilled? Nine months later, my “little” ten pound baby boy was born. Three years later his sister came into this world.

My kids love this cherished family story – it’s my son’s story of how he began.

On this Mother’s Day build a strong awareness in your children of their heritage. Connect with your kids by telling your stories. Your family will treasure them.

By Claire Gawinowicz

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!

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Take Me Out to the Ballgame

Posted on April 30, 2013 by admin

Baseball season in all its glory has begun: the all American tradition and rite of passage for so many of our boys.  The crack of the bat, an umpire’s resounding calls, and the smell of the grassy fields beckon… Spring is in the air.

All over suburbia kids have taken to the fields with high hopes of hitting home runs at the plate and striking out the batter from the mound, running and sliding into home to score the run in the nick of time before being called out, and catching that pop-up fly ball to end the inning.

Ah, baseball, that sacred American pastime, right up there with reciting the pledge of allegiance and seeing fireworks explode on the Fourth of July.  The benefits of playing together as a team are innumerable. Competition is healthy. Getting outside and exercising is ideal. Who could possibly find fault with such a deeply-entrenched cultural ritual passed down through generations from father to son?  What mom in her right mind wouldn’t be in favor of it? Me; that’s who, and at the risk of sounding blasphemous, I’m about to tell you why.

Baseball season in my house started around 2 or 3 weeks ago; I’m not sure which. It’s all a blur. Since then our schedules have been turned upside down. My kid is on 2 different teams,  an in-house and a travel team (both competitive leagues). I think I finally understand the lingo now. This means he has a game or a practice every night in addition to his regular religious school classes, music lessons, and homework. There just aren’t enough hours in the day for everything. But baseball season is here and everybody’s doing it. In fact most parents have more than one kid and have each kid participating in different sports that they have to shuffle them around to in addition to working full-time jobs. This constitutes nothing short of MADNESS to me. Come on Suburbia – get a grip.

At the risk of being extremely unpopular with the “take me out to the ball game” crowd, I’m not sure I see the merit in all of this.  One question I have is, when are we supposed to eat dinner? One Monday night after undergoing a full day of standardized testing in school, an hour-long piano lesson immediately after from 4 – 5 pm, my son changed in the car into his baseball uniform and I dropped him off at practice. I told him to call me when he was done.

When 7:30 pm had come and gone, I flew into a state of panic. My kid hadn’t eaten dinner yet! I immediately rushed up to Wawa and bought him a hoagie with the intention of ripping him off the practice field and providing him nourishment. Surely not providing dinner for him  constituted inhumane treatment. Fortunately, another mom stopped me in my fury and said that her son hadn’t eaten dinner either. She asked, “Do they look any worse for wear?” Admittedly, they all looked like they were having fun. No one was passed out on the field. I held back my motherly right-brained instincts and allowed my upstairs brain to think before acting. All the kids ended up going to Rita’s Water-ice for dinner around 8 pm. My kid at least had half a hoagie in the car.  If my kid is either practicing or playing every night from 5 pm – 8 pm, is dinner @ 8:30 pm? Or of course, there’s always the hot dog shack (“buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks”) for nourishment.

So here we are, in the middle of the insanity. Since my son is fairly new to the competitive league, he is either sitting on the bench or playing in the outfield. He, however, likes to pitch and even earned the nickname Bulldog last season because of his abilities. So we bought into the craziness: we got him  pitching lessons in the off-season to foster his potential, and hopefully fulfill his dream of being a star pitcher in little league.

That, and a dollar, won’t even buy you a hot dog at Citizen’s Bank Park!   So far, much to our chagrin, my son has yet to be allowed to play this position that he was trained for. He has to pay his dues, come up through the ranks, earn his pitching stripes, whatever. Trust me, my son is not going to be playing for the Major Leagues. Hell, he may not even play in high school!

Another conundrum in all this hubbub is how much time do we, in order to be good and supportive parents, have to spend watching our kids play the game at the expense of our own lives?  My mini-van has a chair and a blanket ready to go at all times. But am I any less of a mom if I don’t sit on (what this season so far has been) the freezing cold sidelines to cheer my kid’s team on? I mean, where would any good devoted mother rather be? I’ll tell you, for me, almost anywhere else. I drive him to the games, make sure his clothes are clean and ready, and provide him with nourishment when time allows. Don’t these other tasks show him that I care? Couldn’t my time be better spent do something other than sitting on the sidelines rooting for my kid and making small talk with the other baseball parents? Really, all the kids really do look alike in their uniforms, so much so, that another mom has to tap me on the shoulder to tell me that my kid is up to bat. Am I missing the “sports gene” that came along with the equally illusory “maternal instinct gene”?  Does it mean that I love my son any less by not choosing to sit through every game?

What clinched my suspicion that playing little league baseball is the antithesis of what is right and healthy for the American family was my son’s best friend’s injury on the field.  He was sliding into home to get that coveted run, when the 1st baseman through the ball to the catcher for the out and the ball hit the friend hard in the head. Fortunately, he was wearing a helmet, but that wasn’t enough to prevent the concussion. To score a run in little league baseball? Seriously, is it worth it? This boy is a talented cellist. But which do you think this culture respects more?

My son, also a talented musician, informed me after 7 years of piano lessons that it was too much for him and that he wanted to quit playing. The culprit for this poor decision? You guessed it, that all American sport that everyone has blindly bought into…. Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad. I’m just questioning the intensity, energy and time that we, as parents and as a culture, are placing on this one activity. Couldn’t our time as a collective culture be better spent? When I asked my husband why we buy into this, he said, “Everyone does it, how can we deprive our son of the experience?”

As a final note, my son decided to stick with the piano. He said he was just tired from a long week (hmm). And we just found out that he will be pitching in tomorrow’s game. I will of course be there to cheer him on. “For it’s one, two, three strikes you’re out,   at the old ball game.”

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Turbulence: Parenting is not a Smooth Ride

Posted on April 9, 2013 by admin

turbulence“Please keep your seat belts fastened as we’ve hit a bit of a rough pocket. As soon as we get through this patchiness we’ll turn the fasten seat belt sign off and start our beverage service,” the pilot announced nonchalantly. Oh my God. Of all the times to have this happen on a flight. First of all, I wasn’t sitting next to my husband. He was in the same row but we were both in window seats at the opposite ends. Second of all, we had left my 11-year-old son behind with friends as we embarked on a long couples weekend in Florida with my husband’s partner and his wife. I’m not usually afraid of flying, but I became instantly filled with anxiety and “what if” scenarios.

My imagination ran rampant. So if the plane goes down, my son Max would be parentless….I would never see that sweet little face again. He would be left with my sister-in-law, a person who parents much differently than I do. He would still be in the same school district, but perhaps go to a different school. His life as he has known it would be forever changed. We would miss his Bar Mitzvah. How would he survive without us? He would be permanently scarred. It would be a tragedy of such epic proportions that he might never recover from it. Why hadn’t we flown separately or not gone away at all? I chastised myself about how selfish I was to leave him behind.

He really didn’t want us to go without him. He never does. From the time that he was just a little baby, until now, my husband and I take one vacation a year without him; usually an annual conference that my husband is required to attend. It was a conscious decision that we made to keep our marriage strong. Give us some couple’s time together to remember why we fell in love with each other in the first place. The best thing you can give your children is a loving and secure marriage. Right?

In the beginning, when Max was younger, it was easier to leave him. Sure we missed him and he us, but we came back renewed and refreshed, better able to meet the demands of a toddler. In the past couple of years as Max grew older and could express himself more directly, he vehemently voiced his objections to our going away without him. So much so, that we actually took him with us on a conference one year. He hated the kids’ camp. We tried to tell him that this was a “Mom and Dad” vacation, unlike the family ones we’ve taken to Disney and Universal, etc. But trying to pretend he was not there was all but impossible. My husband and I went to a romantic dinner and put Max in the camp. Upon finishing we went to check on him surreptitiously, but his sad little eyes met ours. We promised if he stayed in camp for just 15 more minutes, we would get him ice cream. Then we ran up to our room for some “adult time” as we shed our clothes at record breaking speed. Our son was unfortunately a very good little time keeper who held usto our word. It was like playing a game of Beat the Clock.

Then there was last year when we were headed to Hilton Head, from Wednesday to Sunday over Memorial Day weekend. Electronic devices enabled us to actually FaceTime him. He could see us while talking to us and we him. What a concept! Our plane was leaving early Thursday morning so he had to sleep and our/his friend’s house Wednesday night. The texts started coming around 11pm. He couldn’t fall asleep. Why did we have to go away and leave him? Didn’t we care about him? They continued until about 1 am when I told my husband that I just couldn’t go. My son needed me. He was in distress. My husband lay in my son’s room and did FaceTime with him till 2 am. Then he finally told him he was on his own. Our flight was leaving @ 6 am and he needed to get some sleep. It was a tough decision, but we went. We did rearrange our flight to come home early on Sunday though.

Upon our return, it was if my son had grown 2 inches. I was so happy to see him. We met the other family at a local restaurant for dinner, as was customary when we returned. When we finally got home and through the door, my son asked if it was okay to go into the basement to play video games.

“I thought you missed us and would like to spend some time together.”

“Well, I actually missed my routine more. Sleeping in my own bed. My cats. My schedule of doing things.”

After all, he was an only child and used to having things a certain way: His! In going away without him, weren’t we teaching him a valuable lesson in flexibility? Frustration tolerance?

This year we arranged to take him with us to a conference which happens to fall on our fifteenth wedding anniversary. At the time, it like it was too much for us to leave him again. But then when our friends asked us to accompany them on an impromptu trip to their Florida house sans kids, I jumped on it anxious to get away with my husband to somewhere warm. But my husband didn’t want to leave Max. I resentfully told him that he was a husband as well as a father and that I needed some attention from him too.

As the plane continued on its rocky journey, drink service was postponed. The woman next to me assured me that this sort of thing happens all the time on a plane and that the pilots were equipped to deal with it. Turbulence was a normal occurrence on a flight. Turbulence, I thought to myself, is also a normal occurrence in parenting. Although the pilots in parenting aren’t always equipped to deal with the unpredictable conditions. It Boy flying toy planegoes smoothly only some of the time. Making the right decisions for your family seems to be just as prevalent as making the wrong ones. Knowing when to compromise on some issues, and stick to your guns on others, is a learning experience. Every day there’s some patchiness to get through. The plane doesn’t always fly smoothly.

As the plane landed safely at roughly 10 pm, I thanked God profusely. I missed my son. On the way home from the airport our son texted us to find out where we were. We told him that even though it was a school night, we were picking him up. My friend reluctantly acquiesced. I was never so happy to be reunited with him in my life. He was elated to see us as well! He was exceptionally nice to me until Monday morning came and life returned to normal. The white bread had gotten moldy. I forgot to put it in the freezer before we left.

“Mom, you can’t even pack me my peanut butter sandwich. I guess that makes 3 days in a row that I’ll have to buy… You also never signed my reading Olympics form. All the other kids turned theirs in already.”

“Max, I’m doing the best I can. I’ll pack you a turkey sandwich instead.”

“I hate turkey.”

“Then buy again.”

“Mom, we’re gonna miss the bus.”

“I’ll drive you to school today.”

“Mom, why can’t you just get it together like all the other moms?”

“If you’d rather live with one of them, be my guest. But right now you’re stuck with me. I’m doing the best I can.”

Ahh, how quickly the Turbulence had returned.

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Perfect Parents- Why They Don’t Need to Exist

Posted on April 1, 2013 by admin

There is no way to be a perfect mother, and a million ways to be a good one.”
~Jill Churchill

Last week my niece had a baby girl. I went to visit and thoroughly enjoyemother holding newbornd holding the baby in my arms. My niece said to me, “You look so comfortable and happy with her.” If only my niece could have seen me 25 years ago when I had my first child. I was not at all comfortable and happy – I was nervous and jerky. I wanted to be the perfect mom and I constantly questioned how I was going to be everything this child needed me to be. I regret that my quest for perfection took a lot of the joy out of parenting. If only I knew back then that a child does not need a mom who does everything “right.”

Here are a few ways parents can be more comfortable and happy and not focus on perfection in themselves or their children:

  1. Listen to Aristotle – He says, “Happiness is self-contentedness.” If you can be happy in your own skin, your contentedness will rub off on your children.
  2. Heed D. W. Winnicott – The English pediatrician and psychoanalyst said, “Ordinary potential will be realized” when “the environmental provision is adequate.”  Translation: parents need not be perfect; just “ordinarily devoted” or “good enough” – what a concept!
  3. Read more old proverbs – “Laughter is the best medicine” (Old Proverb) – Laugh, kid and joke more. In the appropriate setting, humor can diffuse even the most painful situation.
  4. Listen to Captain Kirk – “Fate gives you the finger and you accept.” – William Shatner (okay, okay, it’s the actor who played Captain Kirk).  Celebrate the child you have, not the child you thought you’d have. When it comes to your children, make this your mantra, Accept, accept, accept. Probably one of the hardest parenting rules ever.
  5. Follow Confucius – “The expectations of life depend upon diligence; the mechanic that would perfect his work must first sharpen his tools.” I don’t think Confucius meant perfection is possible. We are, after all, only human. I think he meant any skill, including parenting, is a learning process and the more tools you have in your tool belt that are well-honed, the more self-confident and competent you will become.

 

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It Hurts when our Kids Separate from Us

Posted on March 18, 2013 by admin

Sunrise Sunset

The flyer came home on Monday. The last school trip for the 6th grade elementary school would take place at the end of May. They would be going to tour Citizens Bank Park and take a cruise on The Spirit of Philadelphia. “You’re not gonna volunteer to be a chaperone mother looking at sunriseon this one too, right mom?”

The words stung sharp and deep. Surely, my son was kidding. Of course he would be honored to have his mother come along on another class trip, especially the very last one of his elementary school career. After all, I knew all of the kids. I had been classroom mom 2 years in a row, and chaperoned on many events over the years. This age is so cute to me. Most of them are still so innocent and unwordly. They are on the precipice of puberty, but haven’t gotten there just yet.

“Well I was planning on putting my name in for chaperone,” I sheepishly replied. “The trip sounds like fun and it’s the last one of the year. Once you get to middle school I won’t know all the kids like I do now. Besides, I like spending time with you.”
“But mom, you embarrass me. The other kids think you’re weird.” Ouch!

When did this happen? When did my 11-year-old son outgrow me? I don’t get it. I am so young at heart. I ski, I ride roller coasters, I go to concerts, I go on waterslides, I bike ride. I’m cool! I blend in. I’m the “fun mom”, or so I thought. Okay there was this one time last summer in Wildwood at Moreys Pier where my son and a group of his friends were going on waterslides. I looked at a very scary slide the kids were all going on and decided to try it. Max said dismissively that I would be fine. I summoned every ounce of courage and took the plunge. As I triumphantly got to the bottom, I held my hands up in victory, but there was nobody there to cheer for me. The kids had all moved on to the next slide without me….

Then another incident occurred recently when I put a note in his lunch box that I was so proud of him for making the travel baseball team! He didn’t know this yet as I had forgotten to pack his lunch and had to run it up to school. It was a cute little note with a smiley face. When I asked him later if he got the note, he informed me that he immediately ripped it up without looking at it because the other boys were teasing him about it. “Aw, your mommy put a little note in your lunch box,” they taunted. Who knew this would cause such a commotion? Maybe it was the smiley face.

“How could I possibly embarrass you? I love doing fun stuff and acting like a kid.”
“Yeah well the other moms just sit there and talk, they don’t get so involved. I just want to hang out with my friends without you constantly watching me.”

Wow! The needle was being pushed in deeper. I was a bit taken aback. My son didn’t want me around him anymore? The same little boy that used to hold onto my leg and cry for me not to leave him when I dropped him off at nursery school? Ashamedly, I started to cry. My feelings were hurt. Why was it okay to be his mom when he needed his dirty clothes washed, a hot meal on the table, or to be driven somewhere, but not when he was around his friends? When had my son outgrown me?

In being good parents, one of our roles is to teach our kids independence. We know that we have done our jobs when they don’t need us anymore and can stand on their own; when they finally claim their independence. He’s exactly where he is supposed to be. He is not “out to get me”. This is just a normal stage of his development. But at 11? I’m the one who’s not ready for it yet.

So why do I take this to heart so much? Growing up is a bitter sweet affair. I can’t wait until he doesn’t need a sitter anymore and can stay on his own, but I still want him to need me around- to actually like hanging out with me on occasion. Lately these occasions have gotten fewer and farther between. He’d rather be with his peer group or doing something sports-related. I have always encouraged that. I know it’s healthy. But I still want to be a part of his life. I still want to find ways to connect with him.
So it appears that we are both going through some growing pains. He is struggling towards independence, and I’m dealing with the parental separation anxiety that goes with it. Tonight the parents have a meeting about transitioning our kids into middle school. I just feel as though I’m not ready for it. The years flew by too swiftly. I want to hold onto my sweet, innocent little boy a while longer. I’m not ready for facial hair, body odor and girlfriends just yet.
So as for the class trip, my son and I agreed to a compromise. He agreed to let me put my name in to volunteer to be a chaperone with a couple of caveats. One, that this trip will be my swan song. Never again does he want me to get involved in a voluntary school-related function. This will be my last hurrah, a way of saying a goodbye of sorts to my involvement in a certain phase of his life. And two, I had to promise to keep my distance and not embarrass him (too much).

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What Should a Parent Do When a Child Wants to Play Video Games at a Friend’s House

Posted on March 11, 2013 by admin

To Play or not To Play: That is the Question

So here I am once again faced with a dilemma. This of course will be one of the many tough decisions I will have to make as a parent. Should I allow my 11-year-old son to be exposed to video games rated ‘Mature’, if they are being played at other people’s houses?
Playing Video Games at a Friend's House

I am pretty adamant about my values and belief system. After the Sandy Hook massacre, now more than ever, I am opposed to my child playing these age inappropriate games. I won’t allow them in my home. For that matter, I have an opposition to them being played by anyone and anywhere, period. But at least if you are at the appropriate age, you can make these decisions for yourself. However, I see no benefit in offering players points for shooting people – none! Even if it is make- believe. Fortunately for me, my son has no interest in playing these types of games. In fact, he is revolted by them, preferring to play the sports games instead. Thankfully.

Other parents do not agree with my viewpoint on the subject and buy/allow their underage kids to play these games. They rationalize: “If he doesn’t play it at our house, he’ll sneak off and play it somewhere else.” I see this rationale mirroring the philosophy that parents might as well allow underage drinking at their house so their kids won’t sneak off and do it somewhere else. But in my mind, that doesn’t make it right. After all, it’s easier to just go along. What you allow your kids to do in your own home is up to you. Therein lies the rub.

What you are allowing your kids to do in your home directly effects my kid when he is invited over. Now a decision has to be made by me that I am currently struggling with. Do I allow my kid to come over to your house, knowing that something I oppose him doing is going to be going on there? I can’t tell you what to do in your home, although I’d rather not have my kid exposed to this sort of thing. Do I trust that I’ve instilled my morals and values enough in him that he will choose not to play? If he doesn’t play, will he be invited next time? Or will the other kids look down on him? Do I ban him from going there, risking ostracizing the other parent and making my son look bad in front of the other kids? Do I succumb to peer pressure and just go along?

These are the questions I am continuing to grapple with. As every parent does, I want to do right by my kid. It is my job to keep him safe. How much protection should I give him from the world around him? He will be exposed to more and more as he gets older and will need to make informed decisions. Is this just practice for what is to come? If he can “choose not to play” and still go over the other kids’ houses where he knows these games are going to be played, doesn’t that bode well and offer practice for other tough situations he may be in? Or will he be ostracized for not going along?

So my kid wants to go, and assures me that he will do something else when the kids all play Halo 4. The question is, do I let him?

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