In September, I received several tearful phone calls from another mother. Her 12-year-old daughter, Amy, was being ostracized at school. Shunned. Her mother was calling me for several reasons.

Primarily, she was seeking advice and support. Amy had told her, “I’m fat and I’m ugly. Of course nobody likes me. I don’t even like me.” If my 12-year-old came to me with those words, I would be extremely concerned and also just plain sad.

A second reason Amy’s mom was calling me was to tell me that my daughter, Emily, had consistently been a good friend to Amy and often defended her in school when others picked on her. She wanted to tell me how thankful she was.

When I later discussed this with Emily, she just shrugged and said, “I like Amy.”

The third unspoken but alluded to reason was that Amy’s mom was desperate for someone to sit with Amy at lunch. Apparently, she was eating all alone. I think Amy’s mom thought I might encourage Emily to sit with her. I discussed it with Em.

Me: Imagine how lonely Amy must feel. I bet she dreads lunch period.

Emily: She can sit wherever she wants to. She doesn’t have to eat alone.

Me: She probably thinks that no one wants her to sit at their table and is afraid that if she did, someone might make fun of her. Do you ever ask her to sit with you?

Emily: Mom, when I do include Amy, she tries to always sit right next to me and only talk to me. Plus, my friends don’t like her to sit with us. And there are other kids without friends that she could sit with, but Amy thinks they’re weird.

Ahh. The pecking order. Isn’t middle school brutal?

I just finished reading 19 Minutes by Jodi Picoult. I highly recommend it unless you have anything else you need to get done because you’ll ignore all tasks and people in your home until you finish it. It’s hard to put aside. The book is about a boy who is bullied his whole life until he reaches high school and does a Columbine type shooting. It delves into the social hierarchies in school and how everyone has their spot, and kids don’t want to do anything to jeopardize any popularity they may have. I’m sure that we all remember.

So, back to Amy. After about a month of public school, her parents opted to put her in private school. Three months later, things are better but still tough. There is a lot of good information on types of bullying and what parents can do, but in cases of extreme bullying it’s often just not enough.

Merriam Webster defines a bully as “one who is habitually cruel to others.” Now that kids can bully through e-mail and texting, they can torment their victims from a distance at all hours. And bullying can start young.

My kindergartener refuses to wear Winnie the Pooh on her clothes because someone in her class teased her that it was only for babies. What? She is a baby!! She’s 5-years-old!

I recently attended a baby shower where most of the women were strangers to me. One woman standing near me blatantly looked me up and down, assessing I guess. I bet she was a bully in school. The thing is, even as an adult, I don’t have any good tools to deal with bullies, other than avoidance. I didn’t turn to that woman and say, “What is wrong with you?” Instead, I felt like sinking into the floor and then walked away.

But kids are stuck in school. They don’t control their own schedules or who they come in contact with. They often can’t just walk away.

If your child is being bullied or if you suspect your child is bullying others, talk to your child’s teacher and school counselor immediately. Both need to be addressed.

Otherwise, just keep teaching your children about the importance of being kind to everyone. Amy’s mom would tell you that it really does matter.

-Kay

Ahh. Star of the Week. One of the biggest thrills in Elementary Schools across America. A selected student is highlighted for an entire week. Every teacher and every school does it a little different. One former teacher called it King Kid or Queen Kid, which I kind of liked. I think there was a crown involved. But it all boils down to making a child feel special, building up some confidence, and getting to know classmates a little better. All worthy goals.

Some teachers grant special privileges for the week. Gum chewing, teacher’s helper, no homework, special seating, or the always coveted “line leader.” One teacher built in a little ethnic heritage for each student. I remember sending in scones so that my daughter could share her English ancestry. Some teachers allow you to bring in items such as collections, trophies, or favorite toys. All, I believe, ask for photos including extended family, pets, and baby pictures.

So, when my 4th grader and my Kindergartener got off the bus on Friday afternoon sporting huge grins and carrying big pieces of poster board, I knew. They had both been chosen as the star of the week for their respective classrooms for the following week. It was a coincidence that they were chosen at the same time but it actually worked out great. Frankly, as a parent, this whole star of the week thing can be a lot of extra work. I remember a few years ago having to complete the poster in our van as we took a long planned weekend trip to Kalahari. But, luckily this time we had very little on our calendar and it was actually easier doing both girls together rather than one now and another in a few months. Might as well print off two pictures of Grammy and Grandpa at once.

So, I thought I’d seen it all when it came to star of the week. However, my 4th grade daughter, Grace, was given a task that was new to me. She had to brainstorm five sentences that started out, “I choose…” They had to be worded in a positive manner and needed to be specific. For example, “I choose to do well in school” is not specific. Instead, Grace wrote “I choose to practice math flashcards at least 4x/week.” Not writing in a negative manner was very challenging. Grace initially wrote, “I choose to not tease my little sister” but ended up changing it to, “I choose to read a Junie B. Jones book to my sister.” Here are her other 3 sentences.

• I choose to put my clean clothes away in my dresser.
• I choose to look at and listen to my friends when they are talking.
• I choose to believe in Santa Clause. (LOVE this one)

This seemingly simple assignment inspired great conversation in our house. Just the process of being specific was enlightening. Grace initially wrote, “I choose to be a good friend” and was frustrated on how to express that more specifically. It took some thought and reflection on what she values in a friendship before she was able to come up with an appropriate statement.

It also naturally made the rest of us consider what we would choose. Choose is such a proactive, positive word. One of my statements was, “I choose to walk on my treadmill at least 4x/weekly.” Usually I would probably use the word try rather than choose. Try is kind of weak, kind of like maybe. The other thing we talked about is how if we focus on the positive, it often reduces the negative. For example, Grace is bound to tease her sister less if they’re reading together and building a good relationship.

Another of my statements was, “I choose to organize a party for my oldest friends.” So, I sent out e-mail invitations to 8 friends inviting them to meet me at a favorite restaurant. All but one made it!

With 2009 resolutions upon us, challenge yourself and family members to make lists and see what might come from 5 specific and positive statements beginning with “I choose…” Have fun!

-Kay

If you have preschoolers in your home, you probably know the “ Ten in the Bed” song. Or you might have one of the many children’s books featuring the words. Well, it reminds me of my family, except there are 5 in the bed. My 3 daughters (yes, even the 12-year-old) like nothing better than all piling up together. One of their favorite things to do is to pull out our couch into a bed in our family room and watch a movie together.

My husband says it reminds him of the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory movie when those old grandparents all lay in that big bed together all day long. I always thought that part was kind of weird. Now, we do the same thing. My family all squeeze onto the pull out, eating, watching the movie, and trying not to fall off the edge or to unintentionally elbow someone.

I used to feel sorry for that poor, weary mother in Willy Wonka but now I understand that she didn’t want to lie down. It’s torture. I should probably note that my husband is 6’4” and 270 pounds. Size 16 feet. Big. So, husband on one half and me and 3 kids on the other half.

When we do our couch/movie thing I’m always hopping up. “Popcorn? I’ll make it!” I can usually stretch that out for about 20 minutes, maybe check my e-mail or make a quick phone call. Then I crawl back in. Ten minutes later, “anyone need another pillow?” Then, off I go again. You get the picture.

We are a very physically affectionate family. We all hug each other a lot and all of my kids will still plop down on a lap, if it’s available. My two oldest are as tall as I am (did I mention tall gene from husband?) so I know this is probably going to end sometime soon. I savor it even when I groan internally at the size of the child on my lap. It reminds me of that book, “Love You Forever” by Robert Munsch, where the grown son sits on his mother’s lap. The words and message are beautiful but I always thought the illustrations were a bit strange. Now, I get it.

There is tons of research documenting the benefit of touch in infants and young children. In fact, many believe that there are real health benefits of physical touch for people of any age. Think about the sense of general well being one gets after a massage. Touch is powerful.

Another example of my children loving physical closeness is how they sleep in the same bed every night. Feet in each others faces, arms hanging off of the side, all curled up. The really ridiculous part is that they all have their own bedrooms. All thoughtfully decorated to reflect their styles and personalities, I might add. Strawberry Shortcake for my youngest, artsy flowers for my middle daughter, and bright neon pink and lime green for my oldest.

If we were forcing them to sleep in the same bed in the same room I can only imagine the complaints we would hear.

“Everyone I know has their own bed!”

“It’s not fair how she always gets to sleep next to the wall!”

We’ve encouraged sleeping in their own rooms. We’ve told them how much more comfortably they’d sleep, but with no success. Truthfully, we find it very sweet. These 3 girls who at times during the day want to claw each other’s eyes out, snuggle all night long. Before falling asleep, I can often hear them whispering and giggling. I couldn’t orchestrate better bonding moments if I tried.

-Kay

Each year, I choose a day before Christmas to spend an entire day shopping. I call in favors for babysitting, my husband works a short day, and I’m a free woman. Note: that’s the only thing free about this day. With a credit card clutched tightly in my hand, I back my minivan out of my driveway and I’m off!

I begin at my favorite store. It’s an exclusive, upscale little establishment. You may have heard of it. It’s called Target.

One of the pre-shopping things I do is to organize my coupons. In my home filing cabinet, I have a folder labeled “Coupons.” I shove any in there that I come across or that arrive in the mail. Also, I go online beforehand and Google the store’s name and “printable coupon” and I’ll often find more that way.

For instance, I had a $10 off a $100 purchase at Target. I had a feeling that spending $100 was not going to be a problem. When I arrived, I headed right to electronics because that seems to be what it’s all about for my older kids. I picked up some games and new controllers. A memory card and a digital camera. Then I headed over to toys and picked up a few traditional games. Except they’re not quite so traditional anymore. Electronic Life, Pictionary Man, and Electronic Guess Who. Better throw some batteries into that cart, too.

On to clothes. I picked up underwear and socks for all, and new jammies for Christmas Eve. That’s basically what I bought. Honest. There were a few other small items thrown in (Play Doh, maze books, gum) but that’s it. My total was $678.52. Ouch. It’s the darn video games. I curse those people at Nintendo!

Side note here. My daughter’s DS Lite got rained on and wouldn’t work after that. Go figure. Well, I called Nintendo and they sent me a refurbished one for $75 (better than $129 for new). The Nintendo people were very efficient and polite. So, I remove my curse.

Wounded by the amount I’d just spent, I moved on. I stopped at the Aurora Farms Outlet Mall and by showing my AAA card at the office, I received a coupon book. Ten dollars off of any $50 purchase at Aeropostale caught my eye. I found some great sales ($1.99 for sweatshirts!) and just barely reached that $50-mark. That’s better.

I stopped at Nine West and used another coupon in the book to buy a pair of boots ( UGG knockoffs) before stopping in at Claires. I had a $10 off any $20 purchase so picked up earrings and stocking stuffers. One more stop at Limited Too (is it obvious yet that I just have daughters?) where I scoped the clearance rack and picked up a Webkinz for the top of each girl’s stocking.

So, total for outlet was under $200. I grabbed a quick lunch to go through my receipts (I was still having trouble with that Target one) and regroup. I checked my list to see what my afternoon plan of attack should be.

I headed to Barnes and Noble. I chose a 1,000 piece puzzle for our family to work on the week before Christmas and picked up a pile of books for each child. I then attempted to choose a CD for each of my older girls and lastly picked out some DVDs for the entire family. My husband and I have limited the TV choices for our preteens down to next to nothing (the shows are all so obnoxious) so we decided to get a few “oldies” to give them more choices. After much consideration, I selected The Best of the Cosby Show and a season of The Brady Bunch. I threw in Care Bear’s Big Wish for my 5-year-old and forced myself to walk out the door. Price tag for bookstore: $180 (after 10% off coupon).

I made a few more stops for small items and then went home. I’m finding, as my kids get older I spend more money but have less gifts under my tree. They get plenty but not nearly as much as many of their friends. It’s difficult to find the right balance.

We try to keep the focus of Christmas on the religious meaning and not get sucked into the craziness. But it’s hard. When I’m Christmas shopping I enter some weird twilight zone where I justify buying things that I hadn’t planned on purchasing. So, I always end up returning a few items after my shopping spree. When I’m back home, I’m again able to refocus on what Christmas is really all about.

But I do love my annual shopping day!

-Kay

This year we picked out our Christmas tree on a bitterly cold winter morning. The van thermostat read 22 degrees when we pulled into the “cut your own Christmas tree farm” in the middle of nowhere (actually, Mantua, OH). By the time we had scouted the field of potential picks and evaluated the merits of each, we were all in severe pain. Our noses and toes felt like they were going to freeze off. It was perfect…just as it should be.

We lived in Southern California for many years and while there I just couldn’t get used to picking out our Christmas tree. We used to go to this place right next to a busy road. Imagine cars going “whoosh, whoosh, whoosh” as they drove by at 70 miles per hour. The Christmas tree place tried to cover up the traffic noise with piped in holiday music, but that really just added to the cheesiness. We’d often be wearing shorts and certainly never anything warmer than a sweatshirt. A Mexican gentleman who didn’t speak English sold the precut trees. As we walked on the scorched, dry ground we’d see little lizards darting around. The kids would try to catch one while my husband and I picked a tree and tried to figure out how much money Cincuenta is in Spanish. Eventually, we’d hand over mucho, mucho, dinero just to be done with the whole anti-Bing Crosby, winter wonderland, sugar plum experience.

If you grew up in the Southwest, this probably feels perfectly normal and festive but for my husband and I who were transplanted from the NE, it felt like a page out of Dante’s Inferno. Slight exaggeration, but you have to understand that I love Christmas. The traditional kind.

When we moved to Ohio 4 years ago, my husband and I were thrilled to be able to experience Christmas as we had growing up. We really wanted our children to enjoy some of the same joys that we did as children. Building snowmen, sledding, tromping through a field hunting for the perfect tree, and losing feeling in our extremities.

At the Christmas tree farm we found a tree we could all agree upon and snapped a picture of the kids standing in front of it to share on Photoworks. The kids were doing their best to look happy but I’d have to say the smiles turned out more like grimaces. Then, my husband lay down in the snow to cut it down. It was one of those moments when I’m glad I’m the female. We all helped drag it back to our van where he tossed it on top and secured it while we girls attempted to regain the use of our frozen fingers inside of the toasty van. Again, glad I’m female.

When we arrived home, the kids anxiously waited (translate into moaned and groaned) while their father put up our tree and strung the lights. Then, the kids and I draped the beaded garland and placed the ornaments on the tree. I love my ornaments. If my house caught on fire, my ornaments would be near the top of my list of things to save. Many are old. My mother has always bought each of her children an ornament each year so some of mine date back to the 1960’s. As grandchildren have been born, she has added them to the list of ornament recipients each year, so my children look for theirs when decorating. In their minds, those dating back to the 1990’s are ancient. My favorite ornaments would have to be the ones made for “Mommy” by my children. My kids mock their own young attempts at art, but I notice they look for them each year as we decorate.

I loved the whole Christmas tree experience this year, even the extreme cold. I think it’s unifying for our family. There’s a reason those hardy people who live in frigid climates are so tight knit. It’s a bonding experience to get frostbite together. Plus, when we got home we warmed up with hot chocolate and cookies. That alone made it all worth it.

When our tree was all decorated, we turned out all of the lights except for those on the tree and were awed by the serene, beauty of our tree. There’s really nothing else like it. As I gazed at my children in the glow of the lights, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace and thankfulness. No wonder I love Christmas so much. What other time during the year has the same sense of magic and wonder?

Peace be with you.

-Kay

There is one dirty little secret of motherhood that nobody tells you, and it has nothing to do with saggy breasts.

It has to do with orderliness. Once you have children, there will be none.

My children are 11, 16 and 20, which means my refrigerator has had a catsup/egg or milk spill in it for two decades. I have for 20 years not been able to find the scissors, the tape or the AAA batteries. The dust bunnies under the bed are dust hippos. And my basement looks like Kmart the day after Thanksgiving.

Ah, the basement.

It is an easy receptacle for what doesn’t fit in the rest of the house, n’est-ce pas? The baby clothes you can’t bring yourself to throw away. The broken dining room chair your late mother once sat in. A collection of Goodwill blankets the kids used to make forts with. Hundreds of photographs waiting to be sorted and put into PhotoWorks. Those “vintage” Christmas decorations that your mother-in-law didn’t want because they were so kitschy 1970s, that she couldn’t bear to throw away, and so she gave them to you.

Our basement happens also to double as the office, the ping-pong room and the TV room, which means that I actually have to go down there sometimes. I have wished it clean. I have certainly wanted it clean and organized, all the Christmas decorations in one place, all the kids’ first-grade drawings properly labeled and filed.

But I could never get to it because as the mother of young children, there was always something else to do, like making sure one child or the other wasn’t falling off the changing table.

Now suddenly, my youngest child is a pre-teen, 11 years old, which means I no longer feel compelled to follow after him with a bucket of Band-Aids, wash cloths and graham crackers. My husband and I feel like a couple of Rip Van Winkles, waking up after 20 years.

“You know we could actually clean the basement tonight,” my husband said last Saturday at 8 p.m.

I looked at him for a full minute, wondering who twisted his thinking and on date night to boot.

“Argh. Let’s just do it,” I said.

We worked until midnight, hardly breathing in our determination and freedom. We moved and reorganized about 42,000 boxes and swept up that many pounds in dirt and dust. He threw out his back. My allergies were worse than they’ve been since I was pregnant and producing enough mucous for an army of noses.

But we got it done. Four hours later, and the baby clothes were sorted and stacked in bins and waiting for an unwitting grandchild to wear. The photos at least got organized and stacked in their own personal corner in the basement, even if they aren’t actually in photo albums.

As for the Christmas decorations, they are boxed and ready in an accessible corner of the basement, waiting to be pulled out in just a couple of weeks. All but those decorations from Grandma Peg. They found a special new home, too: The landfill.

- Debra-Lynn

The leaves are almost off, the frost is on the ground, and turkey is on sale at the grocery store. It’s parent-teacher conference time!

I’ve sat on both sides of the desk for parent conferences. I taught for 10 years before I was promoted to “Mommy.” Trust me. It’s much more emotional sitting on the parent side. Here are a few things I’ve learned along the way.

1. Share relevant information. Remember, school will help your child to grow socially and emotionally, as well as academically. It’s appropriate to share any issues that may impact your child in any of those areas. My very energetic niece will be entering Kindergarten next year. My sister is debating on whether to discuss that with the K teacher before my niece attends school. She doesn’t want to negatively bias the teacher against her daughter, yet she wants the teacher to be proactive rather than reactive when dealing with behavior. My advice is to give the teacher a heads-up. It will help with things like seating and proximity control, and also will open the pathway of communication.

2. Be positive when discussing your child. There are usually at least two ways to describe behavior. We could say that a child is lazy or we could say that he needs positive reinforcement to motivate him. We could say that a child is messy and loses things or we could say that he needs some strategies to help with organization.

My oldest was concerned when we recently scheduled a conference for her. “What are you going to say?” I reassured her that her Dad and I are on her team. We have her back. While we certainly aren’t going to allow her to coast through 7th grade, our goal is not to talk despairingly about her but rather to brainstorm ways for her to reach her potential.

3. Schedule a conference whenever you feel the need. We didn’t wait until the official conferences for our daughter because we could see that she wasn’t pushing herself. I called her guidance counselor, requested 30 minutes with the core teachers and five days later we had our conference.

4. If you have a specific agenda or concern, bring along your spouse, or your sister, or neighbor or someone who knows your child and your situation. Even if your person sits there mute the entire time, it’s good support. Later, if something is unclear you’ll be able to confer. Jot down your concerns before the conference and take notes during. It helps to focus and clarify your thoughts.

5. Request any special accommodations that you feel would help your child to succeed. Maybe your child needs a morning snack to stay focused. Perhaps the math homework is overwhelming and your child should only do the odd numbered problems. Most teachers are flexible and sincerely appreciate your parental insight.

Services such as special education testing, physical therapy, occupational therapy, math and reading assistance, speech therapy, and counseling are other options. The school will do an evaluation at teacher or parent request. If appropriate, they’ll provide services. When my oldest was in Kindergarten, I requested a speech evaluation. Her teacher thought it was unnecessary but I knew there were certain sounds she couldn’t articulate. She was embarrassed and hesitant to talk at school. Three months later, after speech class once a week, she was Miss Chatty.

6. Don’t be defensive. At another daughter’s 1st grade conference, her teacher recommended she receive some assistance in reading. We were stunned. My initial feeling was, “No way! She doesn’t need extra help. Maybe you’re not teaching her very much!” Luckily, I was able to stifle that. My daughter did receive extra help that year and now in 4th grade she reads above grade level.

7. Follow up with an e-mail thanking the teacher for her time and support. If some action was decided upon, mention that. It keeps things clear and even though our own children are paramount in our minds, teachers have lots of little people and details to attend to so it’s easy to let something slip. Feel free to contact the teacher a few weeks later to check on how things are going.

Wish me luck on my other two conferences next week!

-Kay

My children attend a Hall of Fame, Achievement of Excellence, you name it, award-winning public school. When we moved from California to Ohio four years ago, we looked online to research schools to help us select a good community for our kids.

Four years later, I can say that for the most part it’s been a good choice. However, I have one huge issue with our current school district:

Parents are held at arms length from the daily classroom activities.

The school’s official reason for this decision is to keep students safe. Supposedly, when lots of adults are wandering through the buildings, it’s difficult to determine who belongs and who doesn’t.

Okay. That makes sense. Hard to argue with keeping our kiddies safe. So, we have buzzers at each locked entrance. Parents are only allowed in at certain times and for certain reasons. For the four annual classroom parties, only three parents per class are allowed and their names have to be submitted a week ahead. They probably run FBI checks on us or something.

My initial question upon hearing about all of the restrictions was, “Have there been problems? Were noncustodial parents attempting to pick up their children or were strangers lurking around the schools?”

Nope. These rules were made proactively to eliminate any potential problems.

It seems to me that in doing so, they’ve cut out lots of good stuff. It’s like throwing out the baby with the bath water.

The area we moved from was also an award-winning school district but with a much different philosophy. Their doors were always open to parents. At any time you might walk into a classroom and perhaps see one mother decorating a bulletin board and another working with a small group in the back of the room.

Where else can a school get such quality assistance for free? I volunteered once a week and never missed a party. And they didn’t just have four parties a year, either. They did all the biggies plus all the smaller ones. We partied on Veterans Day, Cinco de Mayo, Labor Day, Presidents Day and made up stuff like Inventor’s Day, Illustrator’s Day, and Fairy Tale Day. All were accompanied by great learning activities and lots of parent helpers.

Even though parents were welcomed, I never heard of a safety issue. The school, of course, had some precautions such as signing in at the office and receiving a badge. I believe the high level of parent involvement actually made the campus safer. Think of us mothers as Secret Service. Any one of us would have stepped in front of a bullet for any of the students, if necessary. Plus, by becoming part of the school community, I knew which kids went with which adults. I knew the teachers, secretaries, lunch ladies, and custodians. I don’t know many of the staff at my daughters’ current schools because my involvement is so limited.

A friend of mine is very involved in PTO and her theory is that there are too many pushy parents so the school has to set limits. If so, that’s thinking that has backfired.

If you only have a few opportunities in the classroom, Moms can get ferocious. We’ll start clawing.Instead, wear us out and many parents will start slinking away. “Another party? Well, um, actually I have a dentist appointment that day.” Parents don’t want a full-time teaching commitment. We just want to be involved.

One neighbor of mine was not selected as one of the three party helpers for her daughter’s recent Halloween party. So, she drove to the Kindergarten building and stood outside the fence hoping to catch a glimpse of her daughter parading in her costume. My neighbor said it was horrible. Parents were jockeying for position, trying to zoom in with their cameras to catch a shot, and frantically waving in hopes that their child would see them.

I’m all for safety but it just feels as if we’ve gone overboard. Fear can be paralyzing…if you let it. I wish I had thought to research levels of parent involvement during our school selection process.

-Kay

Last Thursday, my mom was rushed to the Emergency Room with severe pneumonia. She is 76 and an incredibly strong woman. She gives of herself every minute – to my Dad (diagnosed with Prostrate Cancer last year), to her six children, to their spouses, and to her 17 grandchildren. She is truly selfless. Not quite a saint, but close. That is exactly how the pneumonia got so bad. She just wasn’t paying attention to her own needs.

So, what does all this have to do with children? Well, it is simple. Like all my siblings and my Dad, we’re spending a lot of time at the hospital, which means I am spending less time with my kids. This is a hard and beautiful lesson for all families – caring for each other sometimes means sacrifice.

This creates guilt no matter how you slice it, but it is a requirement of being a family member, too. And so, I am doing my best to make sure everyone is cared for and everyone feels loved. I am explaining that I am helping Gram because I love her and she is my mom. I am reassuring them that this is for a short time and that I love them so much.

My kids have been absolutely loving during this exhausting moment in our lives:
• They drew pictures for Gram
• They pray for Gram
• They are pitching in more than they ever have before

In addition, my kids are remarkably curious:
• Why is Gram so sick?
• Can I go see Gram at the hospital?
• What is the hospital like?
• What does her doctor do?
• When is she coming home?

I have done my best to answer (in kid language) every question and concern they have presented. I have done my best to praise their giving and loving acts of service. I have done my best to be grateful to my husband for his support in all this.

I am so proud of their loving and curious nature. And my heart swells with love when I realize how wonderful family can be, especially during these trying times. It is my hope that this experience teaches my children more about the bigger purpose of love – to share your time, to sacrifice sometimes, to do more than you thought you could, to remain hopeful, and to draw strength from each other.

I wish you love and family.

-Lisa

My 10-year-old daughter, Grace, played soccer this fall for the first time. I signed her up for it through the town’s recreation program. My older daughter played for years through that program and she’d always enjoyed it. Kind of low key, only one practice a week, and inexpensive. A good way to sample a sport. Parents get to root for their child while mingling with neighbors and friends from the community.

Grace was randomly placed on a team. Two coaches. One quiet and one…not so quiet. Truthfully, quite obnoxiously loud. He’d actually run up and down the sidelines as the little girls played, barking out, “Get the ball, Go, Go, GO, Stay with it, be more aggressive, where’s my defense…” You get the idea.

But he’d also send these very encouraging e-mails to the girls and there is no doubt that Grace learned a ton. Naturally, she’s not as skilled as some of the girls who had been playing for years. But she has some natural athletic ability and a fierce heart. She likes to win. She really likes to win.

So, I kind of sat back and tried not to judge. Grace was enjoying the experience tremendously. Plus, neither my husband nor I have any desire to coach so my feeling is that you can’t really criticize unless you’re willing to do the job yourself.

Well, her team made it to the championship game. It was almost a joke because the girls would almost accidentally make a goal or kick the ball in the right direction. But, regardless, the team was extremely excited. On the morning of the big game, Grace woke up at 7:30 a.m. to kick the ball around outside in the freezing rain, just to get ready. The whole family went to the game. This was a big deal. We went loaded down with chairs, blankets, snacks, and of course our camcorder and camera in order to have pictures to mark the big event and to share with family through Photoworks. We were pumped!

Well, the coach hardly played Grace. He put her in for less than one quarter and some girls played the entire game. It wasn’t even kind of close.

I have a friend who is a wonderful coach and he has to actually keep a spreadsheet because parents question if their child is getting equal field time. I’m so not that parent. I’m sure it’s nearly impossible to keep it even. We’d settle for anything remotely resembling even. The thing is, Gracie’s coaches had been very fair for the entire season. So, this was obviously all about winning the “big game.” And Grace figured that out and all it implied. I could see it in her face.

So, I was absolutely thrilled when Gracie’s team lost. So much for his strategy. Hah! Yes, I am petty. Grace walked toward me and I could tell even from a distance that she was struggling to hold it together. We all know that feeling that you get when you see your Mom where your throat closes up and your chest gets tight. It still happens to me when something is wrong in my life, even as an adult.

Grace laid her head on me and whispered, “Why didn’t he play me?”

What is the correct response to that? I didn’t answer but just hugged her. As parents, we work so hard to build our children’s confidence and self-esteem and it can all fall apart so quickly.

The quieter coach came over, apologized, and told Grace that he hoped to see her on the team for spring soccer. I kept my mouth closed. Honestly, I just didn’t know what to say.

To be fair, both coaches were always upbeat with Grace, enthusiastic, and volunteered lots of their time. So, I’m really trying to figure this out. Is this just the way of sports and Grace needs to get used to it? Or have kids’ sports become hyper-competitive at all levels? When spring comes around, do I sign her up for the same team?

Dr. Alan Goldberg wrote a great article regarding youth sports entitled “13 Steps to Winning Parenting” that has one step called “giving your child the gift of failure.” It’s difficult to sort it all out and to determine what is best for my child.

-Kay