Waiting

As a Mom with a school age child I find that waiting has played a large part in my life, especially during activities and social time.  (I might also mention waiting to be appreciated, waiting for good manners to magically appear and waiting to be an empty nester!)

Waiting during activities

If your child starts a sport like gymnastics or swimming, and stays loyal to it for 3 years, you can potentially spend between 450 and 900 hours of your life – up to 110 days--waiting for that child.  That’s just one activity! Our family lives a bit out of the way (read “boondocks”) and so it is sometimes a challenge to know what to do with all that time. An informal poll of other loitering parents reveals that watching your child is the top way to pass time , running errands is number two, and sleeping in the car runs a close third.  I tried napping once, and dreamt that my car, which coincidentally is somewhat fishbowl shaped, was surrounded by parents watching me snore and drool in the back seat.  So, instead of napping, I get lots of oil changes, shop for groceries and yes, write a blog while waiting. I try not to watch my kid practice, fearing that my latent competitive streak will one day suddenly emerge landing me on YouTube, waving my arms wildly at a retreating coach.

LeBron James' Mom protects her child...www.sports.yahoo.com

Social time and social moms and social mores.

With little kids it was an unspoken rule, at least in my paranoid, liberal Jewish mom circle that you would stay for the duration of the play date.  During the transition to elementary school there was that awkward time when you didn’t know if you should stay or not.  I looked for subtle clues, like the other mom blocking the door, or having her bathrobe on.  As the kids got older new worries came into play and I found myself peering around the host’s shoulder to check the living room for empty beer bottles, drug paraphernalia or pedophiles.  By the time your kids are teens, you are more worried than relieved when your host reassures you “Don’t worry-no in and out privileges and the TV has parental controls.”  Why do they need these measures?  Are their kids wandering porn addicts?

OK helicopter moms and dads.  The bottom line is that your child will not be a better gymnast, or a faster swimmer if you hover.  They will not have more successful social dates.  They will not be protected from seeing and maybe experiencing a range different family values.   So here are my top 3 guidelines for letting go: diligence, cognizance and prescience.

Diligence:  It is ok to help, but not to hover.  You want to be at every practice?  Be the snack Mom, organize the carpools or help haul the equipment.  Get involved.  


Cognizance:  Know your child, their friends and the other parents who will be in charge.  Your child may feign embarrassment when you make that pre-party phone call, but--well OK, they really are embarrassed.  Who cares.  


Prescience:  Become all knowing, all seeing and wise beyond human understanding.  OK, I’m still working on this one. 

We may be challenged finding productive ways to wait as our kids get older, but it’s nothing compared to what our kids experience while waiting for us to let go and trust them.

Silly Sayings

I can sense the warmth and feel the love when I hear parents admonishing their children to “sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.”  (Of course, that was before the scary bedbug epidemic, the foul creatures spreading from ratty hotels in New York to flourish in less ratty hotels, then apartments, then movie theaters and airplanes and possibly your children’s beds.  Which makes the saying somewhat less adorable. But I digress.)

"Sleep Tight..."

Our families had sayings too, but unlike the aforementioned bedbug alert, they seemed to make no sense at all.  For example, my husband’s mother was staunchly opposed to foul language (she could watch a ship full of pirates hack each other into hors D'oeuvres but as soon as they damned someone to hell the TV was turned off.)  When she burned herself in the kitchen, stubbed her toe or became displeased with one of her four boys she would proclaim “YOUR FATHER’S MUSTACHE” instead of swearing. Also an oddity, whenever someone in their family uttered “So?” in conversation, their attempt to ask a question was squashed thusly:  “Sew buttons on a milk bottle.” Go ahead-use that any time you want to avoid a topic at the dinner table. My husband still doesn’t bother speaking most of the time.

My Mother was an immigrant from Hungary.  She would sit with my children and chant this ditty from her own childhood:

“Ver’s your money?

In my pocket

Ver’s your pocket?

In my pants

Ver’s your pants?

I leff dem home

Get out of here you dirty bum!”

This ditty makes me wonder if when in Hungary one should overlook minor cultural differences like no pants or exposing one’s self to children.  My Mother also had a habit of combining American colloquialisms.  Many times she soothed me by saying that “It is just milk going under da bridges.”  Oddly enough it is the saying I disliked the most that I return to again and again as I worry about my daughter living away at college, my younger going to high school and my husband working his own business.  “It’s a jungle out der.”

Thinking about these old sayings leads me to ponder some of our own family's responses to our girl's behaviors. In retrospect they seem less whimsical, and well, meaner. The one that was invoked most often is: “Don’t do that at prom,” and it addresses everything from bad table manners to picking wedgies out of butts.  I would work on being nicer but, after all “it is a jungle out der.”

My daughter at prom...having avoided bad manners and butt picking as far as I know...

So (buttons on a milk bottle) what sayings have stuck in your family?  

Squirrel!

“Squirrel!”  It’s the code my friend invokes when her attention (or mine) wander from the subject at hand.  It’s means that, much like a dog scenting a squirrel, we may have missed something.  Test yourself. Check how many “ squirrel” moments you have today.  Or how many “squirrel” incidents you suspect in the people to whom you’re speaking. (This is also an opportunity to check in with your self and ask the age old question “am I boring?”)

Welcome to the “Sesame Street “generation.  Now, I do not denigrate this joyous children’s series with its multi-cultural bag of learning.  In fact, I consider it a true trend-setter with its quick vignettes, splashing colors and multiple subjects.   I do believe Sesame Street provides an early (1969) example, and maybe takes some responsibility for how the pace of our electronic world has changed.  According to a UK research company called YouGov, “the average attention span is now just five minutes and seven seconds, compared to more than 12 minutes a decade ago.” It’s not surprising then, when Wikipedia claims that today’s TV commercial, (around a minute in 1950) lasts 15 seconds as average. In spite of the pace set by media, you can help your child slow down and concentrate.

1)Be realistic. 

In a video study by TubeMogul, after 30 seconds a third of video test audiences were lost, and after a minute more than half!   So at first, front load important information for your kid, and give them complex information over time. (I’m working on a book called “sound-bite parenting.”) If you see shallow breathing and glazed over eyes, just stop.

2) Limit media time.

  

The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) says children under age two shouldn't spend time watching television or using a computer AT ALL. (They have obviously never babysat.) For those over three years old, the AAP and the U.S. Surgeon General say to limit screen time to two hours daily including TV, computers, hand held video games and even all the cool games you have on your smart phone.

3) Introduce long term projects or goals.  

Undertakings that require several sessions and have a distinct and rewarding end point help kids learn to focus and maintain interest over time.  Age appropriate puzzles, craft projects that have more than one step and reading chapter books aloud over time can all be engaging and fun ways to work on attention span.

So, slow it down and stretch it out.  It may help.  If it doesn’t, and you’re worried about your child’s ability to concentrate then take a deep breath and remember that all of our children develop at different rates at different ages.  (My 14 year old still does not like to use a fork, does that count?) If you’re still worried check the loose guidelines available through the AAP, or on accessible websites like www.earlyinterventionsupport.com because knowing earlier will help you pay more and better attention to supporting your kid! 

Pet Peeves: October

1.  Plastic bubble packs.

I have packing and unpacking peeves at the top of my list this week, after getting my daughter off to college.  Opening bubble packs is not only difficult, it requires special tools like scissors, a large, sharp knife or perhaps a jackhammer.  This last plastic pack fought back, leaving me with a deep welt across my hand where it bit me, just as I thought I could reach in for the prize—a purple rubberized cell phone cover.  Can someone explain why we pack cell phone covers this way, but sell hatchets and chainsaws on easy to reach wall hooks in the garden department?

2.  Popcorn.

I don’t mean popcorn you eat, though I certainly have a pet peeve about those little kernels that don’t pop and tempt you to power-crunch through the bottom of the bowl.  (American Dental Association conspiracy?)  I am referring to the packing popcorn that is added to the top of your box, so that your shipped item only breaks on the bottom.  Count on these pre-programmed morsels to spring out of the opened package and roll directly beneath your couch.

3.  Urban Dictionary.

I suppose that it is a result of sending a child off to college, or maybe it is the result of reading her posts on Facebook, but changes in language seem to define generations, and therefore highlight my own rapidly advancing age.  Terms like brand new, catch my fade, thug and HPOA (Hot Piece of Ass) leave me feeling a bit dusty. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Urban Dictionary.  I just don’t love that I can’t use any of the terms in the Urban Dictionary without sounding like an idiot. 

4.  Groceries.

If the Urban Dictionary defines the cerebral, social side of aging, then my grocery store experiences define the physical signs of my deteriorating body.  It wasn’t long ago that young baggers would watch unconcerned as I struggled to load 60 pound bags of dog food into my trunk. Now, as I come through the checkout the young bagger looks at the boxes vegetable broth and then back to me again.  “Can I help you with your bags today Ma’am?” “Are you sure?”  “Really ma’am, it’s no problem.”  Back off Sonny, I was going to the gym before you were born.

5.  Shopping in JR. stores.

As long as we are on the subject of humiliating shopping experiences, I must address the sudden growth of “JR Stores.”  These are smallish spaces, filled with loud music, size 0 clerks and lots and lots of manic teens.  There are only 2 reasons for a person like me to be in a Jr. store.  The first one involves being a human wallet for my girls.  This reason is acceptable to all parties.  The other reason involves overage, overconfident women who are desperately or obliviously shopping for stylish clothing in all the wrong places. There are two terrible moments in any of these stores.  The first one is when you are separated from your daughters or sons and the clerks are studying you to assess for which reason you are there.  The second is when you actually see something really cute and wonder if it comes in a super grande size before you come to your senses.  I mean, please people, understand. I experienced my youthful fashion years in the 70s and 80s, the era of seriously ugly clothes.  I feel cheated!

Feeling cross?  Tell me I’m not alone.

Home Groan: Let it out

As the title of this first blog implies, there may be some complaining ahead.  But I’m also hoping that there will be some commiserating, some comic relief (even if it means you laughing at me) and some support for all of us who are holding down the home front. This blog may not be for those of you who, in the words of my wonderful sister-in-law are “in the first flush of parenthood.”  Instead, it may make more sense to those of us who have dug under the poopy diapers, mismatched socks and broken toys to find our long lost sense of humor.

Those of us who stay at home can feel isolated, and this is an opportunity to share some of our frustrations and fulfillments, some trials and some tips.  I’ll go first!

Isolation.  Do you talk to your animals or other unlikely companions?  Dogs, cats, fish, Oprah—it doesn’t matter.  If you are currently conversing with any species other than human, or chatting it up with a favorite television icon it is time to join a book club, learn salsa or undertake some other pursuit that exposes you to real live people.  Note:  If you are receiving a reply from your animals or any TV personality, skip this blog and go directly to your medication.

Frustration.  I may have a BA in Advertising and Marketing, and a Master's degree in Communication but now, after several years at home, I also have that dread disease: “old thinking.”  And now that my children are mostly raised, my child-rearing skills are also out-of-date!  In fact, companies are more likely to look to Facebook strangers for marketing ideas (GAP did!) and Dora for parenting tips.  I have begun to think of myself as a human garage sale (or at my age, maybe an estate sale) on a quiet street--people keep driving by my treasures!

Fulfillment.  Ah, the moments that keep us from sticking our head in the (dirty) oven. The volunteer work, the perfect dinner, the accomplishments of our children (go ahead, take credit—after all they will blame you for all the bad stuff!) 

I find myself wondering:  Does anyone else feel isolated? Do you have some frustrations?  What’s happened to you as a positive result of your decision to stay home?  Oh, you say you didn’t stay home?  What do you think of us then?