Jackie’s Journey #3: Baby Shower? High Tea? Kegger?

“Oh my god, you’re having a baby. I MUST throw you a shower!”

Sometimes this is great to hear. You’re tired, you’re suffering from morning (afternoon and night) sickness, and your hormones make you smell so funky that your cat has “Unfriended” you in real life. Hearing this excited proclamation means that all you have to do is hand over a list of friends, brainstorm a couple of ideas, and someone you love will plan the whole shebang for you. Sweet.

However, there’s also a chance that this exclamation will leap out of the mouth of someone you don’t really like or whom you wouldn’t trust to plan an escape from an empty room with only one door. Whatever your idea of a baby shower is, their idea will be the opposite.

My husband and I discussed our shower with a friend very early in the pregnancy. That way, when someone offered to throw us a shower, we could say, “Thank you so much but we already have something in-mind. We hope that you’ll be able to join us.” That way, my initial response (“Are you high? I don’t even really like you.”) never crossed my lips. I was polite but also didn’t get stuck with someone else’s dream shower.

We decided to go low-key and have a “Baby Celebration” rather than a baby shower. We wanted to celebrate with a diverse group of friends and family, rather than with a few close female friends, and felt that using the word “celebration” instead of “shower” would make everyone feel included. (Plus, I didn’t think my husband’s friends would ever attend anything labeled “Shower.” Wusses.)

For our venue, we selected a public park that offers picnic tables, a mini-golf course, a playground, and a carousel. Then we simply invited everyone to join us for a lovely Sunday afternoon of play, food, and fun. It was a perfect way for us to talk babies and bottles while including everyone we love.

However, there was some pushback from those who were surprised that we didn’t want a traditional shower. In response, we said that we would love to have them at our celebration but, if they weren’t comfortable coming, that was okay. There would be plenty of occasions to celebrate the babies after their arrival. In the end, only one person didn’t attend and, frankly, given their crummy attitude (a celebration in the park wasn’t a “real” baby shower) it was probably for the best.

Our friends have planned showers that range from relaxed gatherings to highly structured events. Here are some party ideas:

  • Nix the baby shower and have several small dinners with friends at nice restaurants (where you won’t be able to go with the baby)
  • A baby brunch where the mom-to-be has her last (and significantly watered-down) mimosa; the brunch could also include a pancake bar with every pancake topping you can imagine available
  • A formal tea service at a luxury hotel
  • A traditional baby shower but instead of gifts ask everyone to bring children’s books to donate to your favorite children’s charity/school; Read the books aloud instead of playing games
  • A potluck dinner and double feature of baby-themed movies
  • A traditional baby shower with games, gifts and a beautiful catered lunch
  • Nix the idea of a baby shower or celebration entirely and just focus on spending time with friends and family when you feel up to it
  • Rent out the party room of a pottery studio and have everyone paint numbers/letters in the same color scheme as your nursery to hang on the baby’s wall
  • A lunch where everyone brings baby pictures (of themselves, their partners, and their own kids); Swap baby stories
  • Kegger! (Okay, no one we know has done this yet but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.) The mom-to-be is stuck with apple cider but everyone has a blast and incorporates the babies’ names into various Guitar Hero Karaoke songs.

Have fun and make the day your own. Your kids are going to be unique, why shouldn’t their baby shower be, too?

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Judy-isms #3: No Words or Easy Explanations

As I dropped my son off at school today, for the first time I can remember, I was fearful for his safety. I tried to tell myself that the school shooting in Newtown, Connecticut was one isolated incident by a very deranged man. This would not happen to my child, surely he would be safe.

“Mommy’s job is to keep you safe,” I heard the words in my head that I’ve said to him a thousand times to keep him from touching a hot stove or running into the street. ”Mommy’s job is to keep you safe…” As I drove past the school buses and tree-lined streets that had all but become routine to me, I felt a twinge of trepidation. He’s supposed to go to school, right? It’s the law. That’s where children belong.

There are simply no words or explanations for the terrible tragedy that occurred.  We, as parents and a nation, are grieving for this senseless loss of innocence. But what can be done now is the question that we are plagued with. How can we prevent this from happening again? We try to have it make sense in our minds and explain the unexplainable.

The rhetoric has already started. There needs to be stricter gun control. Treatment for the mentally ill in this country needs to be more accessible and less stigmatized. Were there warning signs that were overlooked by family and neighbors regarding Adam Lanza’s mental state? How much safety and protection should we have in our schools? Should we employ armed guards and use metal detectors? How can we keep our children safe? There are no specific answers, but we must begin looking.

When my son turned 11, he got an X-Box 360 for his birthday. Currently I’ve been struggling with how to handle violent games rated Mature that he sees his friends playing at their houses. Fortunately, he is only interested in sports-related games and has absolutely no interest in playing violent ones. He just doesn’t get the point. Frankly, neither do I. I would like to preserve the innocence of my child and his experiences for as long as possible. He will have plenty of time to be a “grown up”, whatever that means.

 

I’m not saying that his friends’ parents who have made the decision to buy their sons Call of Duty, Halo, Assassin’s Creed, and the like are producing future psychopaths. What I do believe, however, is that exposure to these games, at a young age, starts to desensitize kids to violence. Their brains are just not developmentally ready to process the graphic images shown. I believe that they create aggression and change children’s brain chemistry. No matter how many times you explain that this is just a game, there are ratings on these games for a reason! R-rated movies have an equally damaging effect on a younger child’s psyche, in my opinion. It is a parent’s job to keep kids safe by setting appropriate limits. Kids are being exposed to too much, too fast. Parents are afraid to say “no”.

Another erosion that is occurring in our society is a lack of family time, giving kids a sense of belonging to something greater than themselves. The decline of family dinner hour, or spending quality family time together at all, is endemic in our culture. It’s been proven that kids who share meals with their families at least 3 times a week are less likely to do drugs, suffer from depression or engage in inappropriate behavior. By eating dinner together, I mean actually engaging in some form of meaningful conversation rather than playing with electronics.

Our nation just doesn’t seem to value this type of interaction anymore. Our priorities are way out of whack. We value the material more than the spiritual. In some families,  fathers and mothers both work long hours to stay afloat in this economy. Kids are engaged in sports, music lessons, clubs, religious school, etc. and have endless hours of homework to do.  There is no time to “check-in” with each other face-to-face anymore. We are distracted and dependent on communicating through electronic media which is a poor substitute for human contact and connection. I wonder if anyone had “checked- in” with Adam Lanza recently.

Another issue is that, as a culture, we are taking less and less responsibility for our neighbors. We don’t “check-in” on them for fear of being nosey. We mind our own business and refrain from getting involved. It has become shameful to ask for help for fear that our parenting skills will be judged as inadequate or that we will be rejected. Parents are more defensive about the way they parent than about almost any other deep-seated issues in their lives.

While I agree that there is definitely not one right way to parent, there is a wrong way.  And it effects everyone in our society. Too many parents are their children’s friends today rather than being their example.  They don’t know how to or are afraid to say “no” to their kids. They don’t hold them accountable for their actions. We need to be having open forums and discussing these issues in our communities no matter how uncomfortable they make us feel. Our kids and our futures are at stake. Unfortunately, it takes a tragedy for us to realize that we are all in this together.

I have no idea what struggles Adam Lanza’s mother faced. Or why she chose to have an arsenal of firearms in her home. Or why she was hesitant to reach out or was unable to obtain help for her son.  We cannot prevent what we can’t predict. I’m sure she couldn’t have predicted this, nor could anyone else for that matter. And God knows, you can try your best to be an intelligent, informed parent struggling to make the best decisions for your child and things can still go terribly awry.

So where do we go from here? We grieve for the victims and their parents; including Adam Lanza and his mother, as tough as that may be to do. And we continue to have the conversation collectively as to how to best work together and “check-in” with each other for our children’s sake. This is by no means an answer, but it’s the start of a very real and necessary conversation.

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Jackie’s Journey #2: Of Gifts and Goblins

People are exploding out of my belly.

Well, not yet. But in a month or so, yes. People exploding, little parts everywhere,squawking and screaming a language all their own. I feel like a new show on the Sci-Fi Channel and we’re all just hoping that the first season can live up to the memorable pilot episode of Conception. Sometimes, with a cage match between two gollum-looking creatures going on in my belly, my partner and I imagine scenarios that will require a crib, a fishing net, and two bourbon-spiked pacifiers to get under control. Or that,somehow, we’ll end-up with werechildren.

Many women say that pregnancy is the best and most beautiful time of their lives. They call it a gift. While I appreciate the warmth of these statements, I sometimes wonder, “If this is the best time of their lives, how awful were their lives before? Vomiting, diaherea, constipation, leg cramps, exhaustion, strange and extreme reactions to food, inability to sleep, joint pain, swelling everything… Really, best time of their lives?” Do I love the miniscule mischief makers in my belly? Of course. But do I wish they’d spend less time trampolining on my bladder and leave me a little more energy at the end of the day to go to a movie with friends or spend some quality naked time with my husband? Yes.

Overall, I do think pregnancy a gift but one with goblins inside. The best part of the gift is the kids. But the gift includes goblins that aren’t so fabulous. Goblins of worry: Can I do this? Will I be a good parent? I like my job and I’m good at it, will I ever be able to get back to where I was professionally before the kids? Will I lose all of my child-free friends? Will I ever be able to look at my ass again and not hear Sir Mix-A-Lot rap “I like big butts and I cannot lie…”? Will my partner be able to look at me sexually after birth and breastfeeding?

Add your own worry here: ______________________________? Notice that I gave you a short line for your worry. A veryshort line. But, if you’re like me, you could fill pages and pages with worries – personnel and professional worries alone, not to mention the “Do I have everything I need” shopping worries.

As their birth day approaches, I seem to have more and more time on my hands to worry since I’m not as active as I used to be. I found myself slipping further and further into Level One of Worryland – a funhouse mirror universe filled with goblins of worry. These worries could appear bigger or smaller than they deserve to be depending on various factors like how tired I was or how long I’d been alone that day. Level One lasted a few days. Then I reached Level Two of Worryland, which is where I began detailed worrying over my worries from Level One. Eventually, I reached Level Three, which entailed worrying about the fact that I was worrying so much about my original worries and perhaps not prioritizing my worries correctly. (Yeah, it was a thrilling week or so for my husband. There was a lot of sympathetic head-nodding and tea-making.)

Once I reached Level Three, and the goblins of worry almost became an obsession , I realized that I had to stop. Okay, truth be told, I didn’t realize it myself. I think it was when I was worrying about whether or not our twins will be friends with their college roommates that my fantastically supportive husband put down the tea and basically said, “I love you but you’ve going over the edge. Please come back to us.” And he was right. I was losing sleep to the goblins of worry. I wasn’t eating as regularly or as well. And I was physically tense all the time. Not good for anyone.

Breaking the worry cycle was not easy – and that’s why I gave you such a short line a few paragraphs ago. I had to consciously find more low impact activities to fill my day (which included watching back episodes of television on Netflix after my afternoon walk when I was tired physically but not mentally – I highly recommend “Once Upon A Time,” “A Bit of Fry and Laurie,” “Extras” and “Downton Abbey,” just to get started). I only allowed myself to go into the nursery to check that everything was ready once a day. And when I began to feel overwhelmed by worries, I would write them down, on a short manageable line, and then put the paper physically away. It was written down. If I really needed to go back to it for some reason, I could, it was there, but the worry wasn’t allowed to grow into an unmanageably large goblin in my mind. Plus, many times, once I’d written them down and re-read them, I had a new perspective on issues ranging from labor and delivery (it’s alright to be nervous but I have a great doctor at a great hospital and we will be fine) to sublimely ridiculous details (if they end up with weird haircuts in their prom photos there is always photoshop).

As the goblins of worry shrunk, my joy for our impending infants grew. I felt more energized about finally getting to meet them and began thinking about how cool they are destined to be. Early on, the worrying felt like what I should be doing as a responsible parent but I realized that it isn’t my job to worry all the time. My job is to anticipate concerns, address them, and do the best no matter what happens. And that attitude has allowed us to enjoy the final days of pregnancy and be excited about the little loveable gollums to come. Are there still lingering worries? Yes. But they are no longer allowed to have a major negative impact on our lives. Freeing myself from every worry in the world gives the gift of a much happier, much healthier mom to my family and this gift makes everyone’s life better. (P.S. However, bad prom hair actually does live forever in infamy. I have a new version of Photoshop, if anyone needs it.)

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Judy-isms #2: Reflections of an Old Atari Video Game System

When I was about 12-years-old (in 1978), my father bought me one of the most spectacular and expensive birthday presents I had ever received from him – an Atari video game system. What had made it so special was that my father was more of the frugal type especially when it came to getting gifts for me. With this gift, however, he really splurged and went over the top! Not even any of my girlfriends who came from good, married, stable families had one yet. It was the talk of the town and made me feel so special and loved.

Back then, video games were just coming out. There was no Wii, no X-box 360, and no Playstations. There was definitely no cable TV – only UHF and VHF. I think that Atari was the first video game system that worked in color, offered different game cartridges and had different controllers. There was no talk of too much computer or video game screen time rotting a child’s mind. It was pure unadulterated fun. Add to that the fact that my dad and I had something special we could do together during our weekly Sunday court appointed visitation day. We could take the Atari, cartridges and adapter with us over to my Grandmom’s house where we would spend the day playing. From then on, my dad never worried about what to buy me for Hanukkah and my birthdays. He would simply go to Sears (as brand names were never his thing) and pick out one or two telegame cartridges and/or new controllers to give to me. I always handled each component with the upmost care and respect as my dad insisted on it.

Each cartridge offered an array of new games and challenges to master! I’ll never forget my favorite cartridge – BREAKAWAY IV. It was an updated and radical version of Pong. There was a brick wall with six different color layers to break through: blue, yellow, aqua, orange, green and red. As you got through each layer, the ball would move faster and faster until it burst through the wall. Then it would go crazy and bounce on top of the wall too knocking the bricks away and making a distinctive pulsating beeping sound. Then you had to smash your way through a second screen’s wall to win. High score was 864. I remember that when it would snow and we had the day off from school, my friends, Sheryl, Sherryl, Abby, Debbie and I would sled until we were too tired and cold to move. Then everyone of the girls who were from more stable families would come to my apartment (as I was the only one who did not live in a house) for hot chocolate and to play Atari!!! Those were the days. My friend Abby even bugged her parents enough to buy her an Atari of her own. We became the staunchest Breakaway competitors.

Now I am a 40 year old woman with a 5 year old son of my own. There has been a lot of water under the bridge. I am no longer in contact with the Sheryls, and my father has passed on. But every so often, despite my husband’s pleas to throw out the old dinosaur because the technology is so antiquated that it doesn’t connect easily to modern tvs, I insist that he hook it up for me one more time just so I can feel special and loved by my father all over again. I try to break through the wall and get a high score as if my life depended on it. I am 12 years old and life is good and simple, as if getting the high score on Breakaway is all that really counts.

 

****Update – the old dinosaur is no longer connectable to the flat screen tvs we have. But I saw a new version for sale that had all the old games attached to it. I bought it for myself for Hanukkah and had my now 11-year-old son help me hook it up. Sometimes he even agrees to play it with me. Neither one of us has yet to master a high score of 864.

 

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Jackie’s Journey #1: The News

On the day that we found out that we were having twins, I called my husband a m*therf*ucker – well, in my head, I called him one. We’d been given the opportunity to have an early ultrasound and, originally, I wanted my husband to be there so that we’d see the baby together for the first time. Now, I just wanted to throw something at him. Luckily, I was still in the stirrups and anything that would make a good weapon was out of reach.

At this point, we’d been together almost nine years. We’d supported each other through school and internships and fellowships and new jobs. We’d started out in a shoebox –sized apartment and eventually graduated to a shoebox-sized row house. (Honestly, I’m a little nervous about how we’re going to fit growing kids and all of their accouterments into our little house, but that’s an issue for another blog entry.) We co-parented my stepdaughter and now she is a thriving, beautiful teenager with strong ideas and opinions of her own (if you think the babies in your belly are demanding with their food cravings, flips, and kicks, just wait until they can talk).

We’d discussed having two more kids “at the right time” and had begun trying. It took a little longer than expected so when the doctor said there were two babies – I was ecstatic. Two! At once! That’d be fun! We got what we wanted and they’d each have a best friend for life. Plus, my first trimester had gotten off to a rocky start so I was thrilled to think I’d never have to experience that again. Then I looked over at my husband. His hand had gone limp in mine. He was pale, sickly pale – I mean, my husband is already really white but now his face blended in with the doctor’s snowy walls. Then he said, “No. Can you double check that?” And that’s when I almost called him a terrifically bad name before going Spaghetti Western on his ass. When the doctor confirmed that we were having twins, my husband just went silent.

I practically danced home with joy, my feet barely touching the sidewalk. But from watching his face, I knew he was getting himself all worked up inside. He’s a smolderer, slow to boil, so I took a deep breath and asked what was wrong.

It turns out that while I was thinking about all of the pluses of having twins, he was thinking about the minuses. He was thinking about the cost of buying two of everything, including college educations, and wondered how we were going to manage two infants at the same time. Okay, so, yeah, I hadn’t really thought of any of that. But I was okay with not thinking about that quite yet. Today, I had eaten breakfast and not thrown up, I didn’t wake up bleary and bone weary as I had the first few weeks, and I found out we’d have two babies! Life was good.

Luckily, he’d taken the morning off work so we could talk for a while. In the end, we decided that while there were a lot of details, large and small, to be worked out, we could do it together. And that he would try to hold his reservations in-check for a few days and just be happy. Then we’d sit back down after we’d had time to digest the news and begin to plan for the more practical realities of having two babies in a small, vertical space on a limited budget.

Now that I’m further along, and we’ve had time to think and plan, he’s less anxious and completely over-the-moon to be a daddy-to-be of twins.

One thing I didn’t realize before getting pregnant was that pregnancy would be such a time for growth in our relationship – growth in my waistline, yes, but our relationship, no. We’d pretty much been in sync from our early days of dating and over nine years we’d developed a shorthand language of our own. I could tell how his day had been by the way he entered the house every evening, and he seemed to always know what was making my nose wrinkle up in frustration. But our very different reactions to the twins forced us to be better and more attentive communicators. We have to make sure that we’re being clear in communicating what we’re feeling and why (and if the “why” is unknown, it’s okay to say “I don’t know, I just feel this way”). We’re consistently checking-in about what we need and want, what excites us and what scares us. This is the first lesson the babies taught us, and on the first day we met them. Pretty smart, huh? Yeah, I know: geniuses my kids! Geniuses!

My friends reacted many different ways to their pregnancies and they’re all good parents. So don’t worry if you don’t feel how you’re “supposed to” or “expected to” feel in those first hours after the news. (Unless you are thinking of actually hurting yourself, another, or your baby – at which point, please talk to your doctor and get help.) Here are some of the joyful, scared, wonderful, and all truly normal reactions from my friends upon learning the news:

“First one: excited disbelief that the fertility treatments actually worked finally. Second one: shocked tears and exasperation that the first [baby] was only 5 months old and I actually got pregnant without treatments!” –Christen

“My husband and I were trying to get pregnant. We wanted to get pregnant, and then, one morning, after I realized I was about a week late, I peed on the stick I’d secretly purchased the evening before. I refused to look at it while it came up with its results. I brushed my teeth, I rinsed my mouth, I looked down. Oh. Nervous. Anxious. Scared. Did I want to be pregnant, really? I went about the day with my secret. Every time I went to the bathroom I was thinking, ‘Will there be blood this time?’ About half way through the day, I realized I was praying, ‘Please don’t let there be blood this time. Please don’t let there be blood this time.’ As this thought simmered through my brain, the nerves died down, and a happy, joyful peace descended. The anxiety was replaced with awe, wonder and excitement. My daughter turns two in February, and I’m still in awe and wonder of her, and looking forward to our next exciting bundle. (That’s not an announcement, just a hope.)” -Katy

“I was feeling sick for a couple of days, so I decided to take the test. I didn’t wait for my husband to get home as he was away with some guys for a TV shoot. I got the positive results and the first words out of my mouth were ‘Oh Sh!t, what have we done!.’ I called John immediately and told him. No joke, the first words out of his mouth were ‘Oh Sh!t, what have we done!’ I laughed so hard.” –Elaine

“I took the test while my husband was out as well. Because he wasn’t answering the phone I called him eight times in 30 minutes and left a voice mail along the lines of ‘Come home; I have something important to tell you. No one died.’ When he got home and I told him and showed him the six tests I’d taken, he said, ‘Oh yeah, I knew you were pregnant last week when you kept claiming every chicken dinner we ate had gone rancid.’ Being a man, I suppose that isn’t the kind of thing you think to point out to your wife.” –Amy

“Both times were pretty much “oh f%#%!!” moments for me. My girls came when THEY decided to, not when we decided we were ready for them. Good thing they’re both awesome.” –Jenn

“I basically had the same experience as Jenn. “Oh f%#%!!” It was 6:30am, I started crying and my husband said, ‘I’m so confused, didn’t you know this was going to happen?’ It was just a lot to take in and it all happened so fast. Then when I went to tell my mom, I started the conversation with, ‘I’ve been crying for two days.’ She thought I was insane! Well, I am!” -Sara

“Erik and I were told that we would never conceive. The doctor was wrong, a few times actually, as we had a couple of miscarriages before Ian was born, so when we discovered that our digital test stick read ‘pregnant’ we felt a sense of total vindication. Kind of like a ‘haha, take that f-er!’ sort of reaction. So yeah, not really the “soft-focus, touching and tender we’re pregnant moment,” but it was special to us, just the same.” –K.

“It was such a joyous moment, as if we had won the lottery. After previously having had a miscarriage that precipitated an array of unexpectedly dark and challenging emotions, once we got to the three month-mark this second time, it was unlike any happiness we had ever experienced. It was right near Mother’s Day. I remember we went for a walk in our neighborhood and I couldn’t stop smiling. I think I might even have skipped. As we strolled, we passed a young man on the street who called out to me while smiling ‘Happy Mother’s Day!’ Now, how he knew I was a mother–well, mother-to-be– I have no idea. I certainly didn’t look pregnant yet. But I recall beaming and saying ‘Thank you.’ Shortly afterwards, we were window shopping on Magazine Street to pass the time and ducked into a tiny jewelry store wedged between some antique shops. On a whim, we bought a beautiful round onyx ring for me to mark the occasion of my first Mother’s Day. I had never worn rings aside from my wedding ring, but when I slid it onto my right hand, it settled in so perfectly. Since then, this ring has become a kind of talisman from which I am rarely apart.” –L.

“I think my most interesting response was from my parents. I had recently been accepted to grad school and Brian and I were living in a one-bedroom apartment. We called them and told them very excitedly that we were going to have a baby. Then there was a LONG pause. And my mom ventured – “And we are excited about this?” And Brian and I enthusiastically said yes and then there was lots of jumping for joy.” -Jamie

“My jaw hung open at first and I was shaking a little. After the third positive test I realized it was true and I started sobbing uncontrollably because I was so overwhelmed with fear and shock and joy.” –Jillian

“I think my most interesting response was from my husband. I had told him that it could take a looooong time to get pregnant so that we should start. I think he was imaging like a year of unending sex in pursuit of making that baby. Well, like three weeks after we started trying I was like “Honey I’m pregnant”. Pause. Pause. He said, ‘But I thought it was going to take a year.’ Ditto with second kid. Two years of lost mad sex = two kids! We laugh about it still.” –Andrea

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Rules to Live By

“A few strong instincts and a few plain rules suffice us.”

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

After 8:00 p.m. I turn into a pumpkin – not a jolly, smiling pumpkin but a scary, cranky jack-o-lantern.  I am a morning person, so when my kids were in school, a firm rule in our house was, “If your homework isn’t done by 8:00 don’t ask Mom for help ’cause it ain’t gonna be pretty.”  The rule helped maintain calm in our house (added benefit: my kids learned time management). It was a good rule.

Family rules are beneficial.  Rules help kids learn:

  • what is expected of them (“Clear your plate after every meal.”)
  • what the family values are (“We do not pull the cat’s tail.”)
  • that there is structure so they feel safe and cared for (“Seatbelts are always worn in the car.”)
  • how to develop internal control (“No candy before dinner.”)
  • to be responsible (“Empty your hockey bag after each game.”)

Rules do not mean rigidity.  While the homework rule was seldom negotiable, rules occasionally can be loosened. Example: My kids were not allowed to watch R-rated movies. But the R-rated movie “Billy Elliot” (R-rated mostly because of language) was on TV and I knew it had an uplifting life lesson, so we all watched it as a family. Had I not been flexible with the R-rated rule, my kids would have missed a charming movie.

When your kids stick to the rules, praise them. It will make them feel good about themselves and reinforce the benefits of rules. After all, everyone appreciates being recognized for things they’ve done well and it motivates them to want to repeat the behavior.

 by Claire Gawinowicz, Certified Parenting Educator

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