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It's hard to believe our time at PBS is coming to a close. We'll always be thankful to Jean Crawford for inviting us to be a part of the PBS Parents line-up and believing that our stories, presence and tips on child development could make a real difference to everyday parents online.
Special thanks to Jeanine Harvey and Kevin Dando who brought the best of Supersisters to PBS Facebook fans and believed in us from the very beginning. We'd also like to extend a kind hand to Tracey Wynne for stepping in and providing leadership during an important time of transition for our team. We wish you all the very best.
And last but not least, thank you, our readers and friends who became part of our circle of supersisters. We wouldn't be where we are today without your kind comments and warm support. Like us, you believe in the values PBS represents, and we thank you for caring enough to read along over these last two years.
While we'll greatly miss our time here at PBS, we are excited to look toward the future as our children continue to develop and grow. If our writing here has been meaningful to you, we invite you to come say hello on our personal blogs.
You can find me at jenlemen.com.
You can find Kris at mommyneedsacocktail.com.
You can find Patience at kindnessgirl.com.
Thanks again. It's been a real honor to be here.
There's nothing happier than waking up to your kids with a big present in tow. With the help of their dad, Madeleine and Carter bequeathed me with a shiny red tea kettle, yummy knee socks and a journal that made me smile. Today is my 42nd birthday, and I am so happy.
Birthdays are tender times for parents. You spend so much time worrying about your kids--from their own birth days (remember all those books you read and how much you wanted their entrance to the world to be just right?) to their actual parties year after year after year. There's not a mother in America who hasn't agonized over her kid's special day, hoping everything will be just right.
You spend so much time focused on your kids that by the time it is your birthday, it's hard to drum up the energy to make it matter for yourself. Don't get me anything, you want to say. Pleeeaase...do not go to any trouble. But these are requests we make out of the memory of our own effort. We don't want anyone to take on the burdens we take to let others know we love them and that they are special--especially when it comes to us.
But learning how to let the love in and making space for the extra trouble is as nourishing to our kids as all the parties we throw and the extreme measures we take to let them know we care. When we collapse down our opportunities to receive, we also fold up like an accordion their capacity to give. It's important for them to register and understand that they have a part to play in the acknowledgment of our efforts, but more importantly the ways we sacrificially love. They need a chance to say and show and display the ways they see us and recognize the gifts we always bring.
I am feeling blessed today that my kids have a dad who understands this and who is committed to helping them register their love in tangible, thoughtful ways. For those of you who don't, I say this is so important that it's worth teaming up with a friend who will help your kids while you in turn help hers, whenever there's a special day of yours that needs noting.
We need the love as much as our kids do, and when we can admit that and let it in, we're all the better for it.
How about you, Supersister? How do you feel when your birthday rolls around? Are you celebrated in your house? Do you care? Share your experience in the comments below.
My friend Ria Sharon of Yoga Parenting recently told me about an element of her parenting course that cultivates critical thinking over obedience in our children.
"This is not the world where we grew up," she told me. "Kids are expected to think for themselves and to know how to make good decisions. Teaching them to blindly obey sets them up for all kinds of problems. It's actually more valuable for them long term to know how to form honest opinions and to know how to to trust their intuition than to go along with the program."
I was scandalized. What?? Teaching kids to speak up? What kind of chaos would ensue under such mandates? No more bedtime? Endless television? Sugar cereal?
But then my own parenting style came quickly into focus. I am holding the line daily on healthy and heartful behaviors, but I am also regularly building in room for dissent. My kids know they have the space they need to suggest other options, to give reasons for alternatives and to argue a good case for doing it exactly how I just asked it not to be done.
Defiance? Or just good solid freedom to act and think?
All parents, I believe, fall somewhere on the continuum. I, for one, was deeply schooled in the listen and obey program, and it has served me well. I know how to follow instructions without discussion. I don't have to understand or subscribe to your values or program in order to be able to implement your plan. This makes for good workers--of which the world needs many, but I'm not sure it's made me a clear thinker when it comes to executing my own values and plans.
On the other hand, I'm not sure my kids in their current incarnation have enough experience in compliance. They're on their own program in many ways, and I don't know if they'll be able to enter the work force and do someone else's bidding when the time comes. Or even if they'll want to. (Note to self: Work on this before the apartment above the garage is occupied forever.)
What say you, parents of the internet? Do you think mayhem happens if we forgo obedience training and hop on the free thinking caravan instead? Can our kids handle the task of thinking for themselves or are we unnecessarily burdening them with a responsibility that is too soon to bear?
I'd like to hear your two cents in the comments below.
Here's the scene: Three little boys on one side of the street (aka the Lemonade Boys) spend an entire afternoon setting up a lemonade stand. When sales are slow, these savvy salesmen take matters into their own hands. One boy runs up and down the street, knocking on doors, with offers of a lemonade delivery service, while the other two refine the made up recipe to accommodate the rush of new orders. Their $2 till is suddenly overflowing and the Lemonade Boys are in business. Their net profit at market close? Well over fifty dollars.
Fast-forward to the next day: Two lovely little girls on the other side of the street (aka the Lemonade Girls) set up a beautiful lemonade stand bright and early. They have been planning this for months and see nothing but success in their future. Meanwhile, the Lemonade Boys have plans to take their business to the next level, but there are some labor issues. They have suddenly acquired a manager in one super-bossy older sister. It takes two hours to settle their dispute, end the picketing and get back on track, only to realize they have competition across the street.
This was not in the plan.
Negotiations ensue. A merger is discussed, but the Lemonade Girls will have none of it. They spy coercion, unfair distribution of profits and a whole lot more hassle on the production line. No deal. Discussions come to a abrupt halt.
The Lemonade Boys and their now demoted sister/manager have no mercy. They will crush the competition! They will slash prices! Add a new product line (Betty Crocker brownies)! Form a street team for guerrilla advertising!
The Lemonade Girls are clever, however. They have already instituted an aggressive marketing campaign an hour earlier. The boy with the bike privileges is already making the rounds, spreading word of their one time lemonade sale far and wide. The Lemonade Boys don't have the budget for that, so warlike tactics ensue. The Mother Regulator has to step in and abolish the advertised recording which is being broadcast at high volume from a battery operated speaker in the driveway.
No worries, the Lemonade Girls are outpacing the Lemonade Boys 3 to 1. Careful product development, marketing and an excellent customer service experience prevails. The girls are ahead of the game and showing no signs of remorse over the proposed merger. Sales are off the charts!
The only fallout is the neighbors who feel dazed and confused by the onslaught of messaging coming at them from every available channel.
"It's like a war out there," the lady with the poodle reported. "Yesterday it was fifty cents for a large, now it's a dollar for a large? I don't know who to buy from or what to do."
In the end, the Lemonade Girls netted $64 while the Lemonade Boys happily split their $28 profit four ways. The Mother Regulator thought this was a free market success but there was some dissent from Commissioners on both sides of the street.
"Um, was it really necessary for there to be TWO lemonade stands today?"
"Why couldn't the Lemonade Boys have waited til another day, so as not to rain on the Lemonade Girls parade?"
"Don't you think it would have been better to emphasize friendship over competition?"
Needless to say, the Mother Regulator faced a rigorous peer review and may or may not retain her right to oversee fair practices in the lemonade market next season.
What say you, Grownups from the Real World? Are we in danger of creating fantastic business people who have lost the art of living peacefully with their neighbors? Or is all well that ends well in love and war? What would you do? Nix the stand, wait for another day, or let the free market reign? Your unfettered opinions solicited in the comments below.
Here's a letter from a supersister who wonders how to help her kids feel confident in the face of fear. With her permission, I'm sharing it with you. I'll add my two cents, and then you add yours, okay? Let's give her a list of hopeful, positive things only the kindest, strongest parent would do in a situation like this:
I just left my scared first grader on her 2nd day of school, still so attached to me, me trying to make it ok for her, assuring her I'll be there at pick up and knowing that she's looking for some love on the play yard without her best friend. This morning we met up with a group of first grade girls that raced off down the street ahead of us moms. I whispered. "Do you want to run off with them?" She said no she wanted to hold my hand, be with me. How can I give her confidence to fly off and be free? ---S.
I think confidence is like a seed. It grows strong over time as we tend to its basic needs until it is time to sprout. Much of the needed process happens silently under the surface without us even knowing. Sometimes as parents we lose faith that something good is happening quietly when our kids struggle and so we panic, but nine times out of ten, we're surprised. Things do work out. Our kids do grow and change and step up to the next stage of things and everything is just fine.
Know this: Your daughter is collecting evidence from you about what she can expect from this growing process. If you can get to a place where you feel sure of her and her natural way of being in the world, she will, too. When my own stories of being scared or lonely as a kid are dominating my thoughts at times like this, I use them as a connecting point for empathy. I say, "Let me tell you a story." I say what it was like for me in a similar situation, how I felt and what the hard parts were, and then I say, "but it didn't last. I made a friend. Her name was Debbi Sloat. I got the confidence I needed. I figured it out. It's hard right this second, but tomorrow morning might be the morning everything changes. Let's see."
She might need an anchor to ground her--like a playdate with an acquaintance who goes to the same school. Or something simple and fun to share at lunch with someone she likes. Or a note in her backpack or her pocket reminding her it's just a matter of time before it works out just fine. But she'll get there. She needs to hear you say that out loud, I promise.
Let her know that her pace, though, is perfect, and that her way of getting ready to bloom is just fine. She can take her time because something good is coming--new friendships, new ease, new confidence. Her job is to wait for it and to reach out with your help, whenever she feels the tiniest bit of courage.
What say you, superparents? How do you encourage your kids to feel confident in the face of new situations that would be unnerving for anyone?
When my kids were preschoolers, we got through their anxieties with a very hands on approach. We made worry boxes, we crafted bird nests out of blankets and sheets, we sang songs sweetly in the night. Now that they are older, I'm finding their anxious feelings come out in more subtle ways and my old-fashioned methods just won't do. No one is that quick to discuss what's going on, and the differences in personality now are great. One kid will obsess; the other will hibernate. One blows up to blow off steam; the other shuts down or can't stop joking.
I've had to go back to the drawing board. Here's my new back-to-school list of mom-can-do when my kids are showing signs of coming apart at the seams:
Stay Positive. Madeleine repeatedly tells me that my warnings deepen her anxiety. She already can feel the consequences of making the misstep, she does not need me to remind her how much worse things will get if she doesn't get with the program. When I can honestly give her a picture of how good it will be because I know she can course correct, she is much more positive. If I can focus on the strengths she already possesses to address the problem, even better.
Be in it Together. Anxiety deepens when kids feel like they have to do everything on their own. It helps when I say to Carter, "Don't worry, I'll stick with you until I know you can do this on your own." This is especially calming when kids are overwhelmed by the size of the task or the scope of a new responsibility they are trying to master. You can give your kids the full weight of their responsibility without disconnecting from them emotionally. "WE" words really help.
Set Judgment Aside. Do you remember that anxious feeling you used to get as a kid when you knew you had done something wrong, and it was just a matter of time before someone found out? We increase our kids' anxiety when we pile on judgment or make it personal when we can be dispassionate about it and stick to the facts about what happened and how. They already know there's a problem; they don't need to feel like who they are is a problem as well.
Switch it up. I'm learning to break up anxious moments by changing gears and suggesting a new activity we can do together. Right now I've been asking Madeleine to go for an evening walk so we can go to the store and get her favorite Japanese crackers for the next day's lunch. Just being together, joking around is helping her relax and be less intense about her adjustment to middle school. I do the same thing after we've had a big discussion about something where tensions were high. We all need reminders that it's not the end of the world if there are challenges, and we can still enjoy each other's company in the midst of our worries.
How do you light up worry at your house? What's on your list of things you can do when your kids are clearly anxious or stressed?
We are still deeply in the throes of summer at our house, so it's hard for me to fathom that in less than one short week both Madeleine and Carter will be back in school every day, getting back to our fall routine.
This summer was a sweet one in our house. It was the first year we made a serious commitment to vacation, camp and childcare and wow! what a difference that made. I was no longer the crazed, stressed out work-at-home mother who can't get any work done. They were no longer the whining, frustrated, neglected children who can't figure out how to have fun. This simple structure--a regular morning babysitter, somewhat normal work hours for me and plans to look forward to on the calendar--worked magic for all of us. I had to make a big trip mid-summer for my work, but they had a fun beach week with dad and some fun daily outings with me when I got back. I think everyone got what they needed.
This summer also marks some significant passages. Madeleine is on her way to middle school this fall. She spent far less time with her dolls this summer and much more with her nail polish and music. Carter is no longer my sweet baby faced boy. Yesterday I discovered a pre-adolescent pimple on his face. I suspect I'll be chasing him into the shower nightly soon in hopes of fending off that sweaty big boy odor that is right around the corner. My kids are growing up fast; neither one looks like a little kid in the pictures anymore.
I've never been one to mourn my children growing older. I'm hopeful for the changes in their lives. I'm excited for their futures and eager to see who they will become and what choices they will make as their paths unfold. But this week, I have to say, I'm looking at them both and feeling a bit wistful. I have loved being the mother of little children, and I'll miss the days when they were less independent and more full of wonder for the newness of the world.
How about you? What stages are passing for your kids along with the end of summer? What's there to cherish in these days that is sure to be a distant memory when fall leaves come along?
It's no secret in my family that I've gained a noticeable amount of weight over the last few years. My former days of svelte are gone, and I am now the oh-so-round and comfortable owner of more than one pair of granny panties and a respectable collection of elastic waist pants and skirts--all sized a very ambiguous 2, on a scale of 1 to 3. Even so, I'm well aware that nothing short of a mumu is going to hide this sneetch-like belly of mine.
I've debated on how to handle this new super-sized me with my kids. Do I pretend I'm skinny like I used to be and call a moratorium on my burgeoning waistline? Do I go on and on about healthy eating and exercise and let them watch me work out like crazy to try to turn back the clock? Or do I pretend it doesn't matter at all and go ahead and live in my pajamas while ordering another round of yummy chocolate covered cream-filled cupcakes?
After a year of traveling in countries where a nice round belly is a sign of well-being and good-fortune, I decided my first move would be radical self-acceptance, no matter what the scale says. I am not twenty-five anymore, and my days of being able to skip lunch and watch my muffin top disappear are long over. I am a forty-something, middle-aged mom with a metabolism to match. This body of mine, which is showing signs of wear and tear--and yes, maybe one too many bowls of guacamole before dinner--has carried me through enormous changes, life-altering experiences and essential acts of love and/or domestic monotony. When I die, this old girl is coming with me, and if I won't love this dear body now, when do you imagine would be a more appropriate time? When I'm fifty and even more fluffy? Or when I'm sixty and by some miracle have mastered the art of moderation?
I have decided there is no better time than right now.
To symbolize my commitment to honor my body (and to not give youthful perfection unnecessary airplay in my mind), I dubbed my middle "The Chubby" and vehemently defended her whenever my kids started to play rough enough where someone nearby (i.e. me) could get hurt. Hey, guys! Watch out for The Chubby! I called out one day without really thinking during a serious roughhousing. Both kids immediately laughed and loved it that I was being both protective and playful.
From that day forward, The Chubby became a regular point of conversation between us, and I was shocked to see how lovingly both kids regarded The Chubby in the face of my newfound lack of shame in her very round presence.
I began to see that this glaring imperfection of mine was actually an avenue for my kids to embrace me as a soft, available, accessible, comforting presence. It feels good to hug someone who is a little more wobbly around the middle, and my kids could finally say so without worrying about hurting my feelings. I think they liked no longer having to pretend I wasn't a little bit fat, especially now that they could see I wasn't embarrassed that there was more of me to hold.
These days I really am paying attention to my well-being and my general health. I'm walking everyday and eating more bowlfuls of kale than candy and making sure that every meal is full of choices that will give me wholesome, natural energy. I've lost a little weight, but I'm pretty sure at my age and with my particular body type that The Chubby will always be with me, no matter what.
"Don't worry," I tell Carter when he begins to panic that all this good eating will be the disappearance of The Chubby. "Some signs of imperfection are also signs of comfort and they are meant to always stay." This I say as he folds himself happily into a deliciously round, warm hug.
What do you think? Can you celebrate The Chubby at your house or do you think that sends the wrong message to kids about the importance of fitness and health? What do you think about separating the idea of how much you weigh from your body image? You can be honest. I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.
*picture above shot by tracey clark, catching my better side, depending on how you look at it.
I recently had the opportunity to spend two full uninterrupted days with my nine year old Carter--just the two of us. Originally we planned for Carter, Madeleine and me to have a weekend away somewhere together, but at the last minute Madeleine opted out in search of tweenage bliss with her good friend Isabel. That left Carter and I alone in the car for five plus hours on our way to New York City where we would spend the next two days wandering the streets, seeing the sites and getting to know each other in a brand new way.
I've always been very tuned into my kids, so I wasn't expecting any big surprises. Carter is an easy kid to be with in general and has for the longest time been excellent company. Still, 48 hours completely alone with anyone and you'll learn something new.
Here's the shortlist of observations (some new, some old) from our time together this weekend:
1. Carter is way more sensitive than I realized. He needs a super safe environment free of sarcasm and harsh tones before he can really start to unwind and relax.
2. Carter is super affectionate and needs more chances to demonstrate his emotions, especially the super loving, positive ones.
3. Carter is a chatterbox. For a kid who is notorious for his introversion, Carter could not shut up on our ride up. I think he told me at least fifty well-memorized jokes.
4. Carter needs long stretches of silence and downtime. We were able to find this best on long walks around the city with nothing to do, nowhere to go.
5. Carter is on a secret campaign to feel less all around, since his big emotions feel so overwhelming to him. This taps down his joy as well as his sadness. He needs even more support to let his big emotions out, so his not so healthy no-feel strategy can come to an end.
6. Carter actually enjoys the limelight. He was thrilled to be a little outrageous in his new shades (see photo above) and happily basked when complimented on his style by the tour guides at the New York Water Taxi.
7. Carter did well to be on his own, away from his uber-confident sister, to have his own chance to try on his own brand of confidence. The shades definitely helped.
I was so thankful for these two days to really focus on Carter, have unstructured time with him and tune in to his inner world. I have some data now as a parent that I desperately needed to be able to meet Carter's needs in more intentional ways.
How about you? Have you noticed something new about your kids this week? Something about the way they are, what they need or how you'd be better off to change your tact a little?
Tell us what you're observing and learning in the comments below.
"I need to talk to you about this tweenage thing," my friend said to me a few weeks ago. Her voice was heavy with the need for confession. I didn't know if she was about to confess hatred for her impossible tween or some other more unspeakable act of parental frustration.
"Okay," I answered, all ears. "What's up?"
"It's just, you know...the Justin Bieber, the vampires, the glitter toenail polish..." She could barely get the words out. "I just LOVE all of it. Every single second. She's doing so well, and she's so happy about her life. Is there something wrong with me? I just can't get enough. I think it's great. Do you think that's bad?" She looked at me with the kind of worry a parent might feel after letting their teenager have a sip of champagne at her parent's 50th wedding anniversary.
I laughed. "Not at all," I reassured her. "I'm right there with you. As long as we're talking to them and staying connected and making sure we're honestly pursuing our own dreams for happiness--instead of living vicariously through our girls--I think it's fine. You're living your dreams. You're being honest with her about the hard parts. She can see all of that. I think it's great."
She sighed a deep sigh of relief and we sunk down into the couch for a long conversation, without the threat of censorship or the worry of "Good Mother" hanging over our heads. While some may be appalled and warn of worse pop culture influences to come (and believe me, I've got my eye on that horizon), there's something completely pure and innocent about being excited about the next chapter in a young girl's life. Some of these recent media crazes have taken on cult-level popularity for exactly this reason. They reflect the tension between being innocent and becoming wise. They mirror the euphoria of sometimes getting it right and the adventure involved in learning the difference.
So many of my peers were raised to be afraid of the teen years--the predatory boys, the potential pregnancies, the STDs. But what if in all of our caution and fears about what could happen, we're missing out on one of the biggest gateways to tween/mom connection--an ongoing conversation about what's good right now? What if in an effort to shield our girls from the negative messages their getting from the media, we're missing our chance to be a part of an ongoing dialogue about the things they don't want to miss--healthy friendships, really positive interactions with boys and the magic of discovering they are strong, beautiful and capable of learning the wisdom of their own intuition? Justin Bieber may not be a poster child for any of the above, but he taps into the hope of someone loving you passionately. And why shouldn't our girls expect that?
There's an old saying that youth is wasted on the young. At my house, right now, with the music blaring, the constant toe-nail polishing and the long conversations about the bright and exciting future, I beg to differ. Mistakes will be made, difficulties will be encountered, but all in all, there's something incredibly valuable about being excited about the ride. That's where I see my tween right now; that's what my friend sees, too.
We can't bring ourselves to not be excited for their high hopes--not because we haven't achieved our own, but because in so many ways we have and are doing so right now. And maybe a little late, because we lacked the courage to dive in headfirst. May our girls retain their courage and excitement for love, adventure and true happiness. May we not let our fears of the inevitable disappointments keep them from giving their all to the joys and delights that are theirs to be had.
I know this isn't the party line on raising girls these days, and I know there are dangers to uncensored media exposure. I'm not arguing that. But if you're connected and involved with your tween girl whose heart is open to you, why not be in that process of discovery together? What say you, internets? How are you handling your tween girls and the silly excesses of tween culture? On the continuum between keeping them young and letting them go, where do you fall?
And maybe more importantly, what do you think about the idea that we hold them back because we don't want them to be hurt or disappointed, the way we were (and are) ourselves?