Category: Parenting

Apr 22

An hour of exercise a day and an healthy diet keep you skinny…

That’s what the commercial said.

I didn’t actually hear it. The Boy was listening to the TV with his headphones on.

“It said ‘an hour of exercise a day and a balanced diet can keep you skinny and healthy,’” he said removing the headphones and looking at the TV quizzically.

“You sure they didn’t say ‘keep you slim?’” I asked.

“Nope, it said ‘keep you skinny.’ That’s weird.”

And then he did a mini rant about exercising but not just to do it for 60 minutes, but because he’s always outside playing.

I just let the smile growing across my face (how can I not be a proud mama when my kid says something so innocently insightful?) and nodded my approval of his assessment.

But I’m still bothered by the fact that the healthy diet and exercise PSA was selling skinny, rather than health and fun in the sun. Which brings me to the deep feeling of sadness I have when I look around safe neighborhoods and see not a single kid outside playing. And yet, there are commercials telling kids they can be skinny if they exercise for an hour a day.

As the Boy so aptly pointed out, kids could spend the entire day exercising, if they were outside running around, playing.

While society is realizing that our collective health is deteriorating, instead of encouraging kids to go outside and play (and encouraging parents to let them), the TV (a serious play-killer) tells them that if they want to be skinny, they should get an hour of exercise.

There’s a serious disconnect here. So in keeping with the brave free-range steps recommended in Lenore Skenazy’s Free-Range Kids book (which I’ll post an official review of once I’ve finished reading), I gave the boy an index card to show people when and if they ask what he’s doing out there without an adult, and let him go to the big park near our house. Yes, the same park, less than a mile away, from which he was returning, when I was summoned by the police because he went into a fast food joint asking for water. The same park where he made his first friends in the neighborhood; friends he hasn’t been able to see since the incident.

Naturally, I’m nervous considering what happened last time. But we went over the rules, the Boy asked what time he should come home, gave me a hug and went off to enjoy his chance to play. Instead of giving in to the fear, I can rest assured that my kid will be out running around, instead of sitting in the house playing video games, watching TV and being sold 60 minutes of skinny.

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Posted in The Boy

Apr 15

“You don’t need that crap”: How to stop the shopping nag factor

Kids will ask for things when you take them to the store. And they love to touch.

The Boy is most likely to ask for things he’s sees in commercials than he is to ask for things when we’re in the store. It’s because I’ve trained him to know that I will not buy whatever is not on my list.

And I don’t budge.

Several years ago the Boy would ask for so many things whenever we went into any store. Mom can you get me this sweater? Mom can I get this hat? Mom can I get this plastic piece of crap toy that I’ll forget about after playing with it for all of a week?

Then I started giving him the speech: I have a list and I’m not getting anything that isn’t on the list. Don’t ask because the answer is no. Anytime he went to ask for something, I’d remind him that I had already answered the question.

Over time, I’ve noticed less asking. When he asks for stuff on the commercials, I laugh and joke about how suseptable he is to advertising. He laughs and jokes that there’s so much COOL STUFF. And then we forget about it.

Here’s the key though: If he wants something from the store, he asks before we go. If he wants me to buy popcicles or cereal bars, he asks when he sees me making the grocery list or prepping to go to the store. He’s gotten smart and undestands not to ask for plastic pieces of crap. He doesn’t often ask for junk and understands that if he wants something from the store, it has to be on my list.

And only pre-approved items go on the list.

Image via Mitifake.com

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Posted in Parenting

Apr 08

Raising interesting people; not “kids”

For most of my life I was content to be invisible. While my younger sister was a fearless social butterfly, I was often content to sit inside reading a book. I made friends with people with huge personalities and let them be the center of attention. Even when I got married, I downplayed my accomplishments and felt bad that I was accomplishing, while he complained about his sacrifice.

I thought that being invisible was my strength. That it meant I was humble and gracious. Instead, it was me being afraid to be myself and speak my truth.

And then I realized that if I wanted people to see my value, I had to stop hiding behind the fear; the fear of actually achieving my greatness.

In fact, its the same thing most people are afraid of: their own success. From childhood, we’re discouraged from standing out — either by peer pressure or because our parents impose their style on us. How many of us were the weirdos and misfits and nerds, all because we were different from everyone else? Our society pretends to value conformity, while those who achieve true greatness are the self-reliant.

So when the Boy told me that his friend didn’t want to be his friend anymore because the Boy was showing off when he did handstands, rapping and dancing, I was a little saddened. I wanted to encourage the boy to work it out, tell him to be considerate of the other kid’s concerns. I understand that I am raising a confident, fearless, stylish and gregarious kid. I also understood that this friend was unhappy that the Boy could do things he couldn’t, and he was probably a little jealous.

So I told the Boy that anyone who couldn’t accept and appreciate him for who he was, who would tell him he should stop dancing, jumping and singing — all some of the Boy’s favorite activities — was not someone he needed to be friends with. Hopefully the other kid will get over it and find his own light within. Until then, the Boy will have to look for kids as confident as he is and comfortable with him being himself.

I want the Boy to know that its ok to be himself and to like who he is. I like who he’s becoming and I’m proud to say that I’m raising an interesting person, and not just “some kid.”

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Posted in Parenting, The Boy

Nov 08

All he wanted was a cup of water

I know there are people who think the world is not a safe place. I am not one of those people. Nor do I want my children to grow up with this belief. So I give them a long leash.

Just the other day I was gushing about how awesome my neighborhood was. It was only a couple weeks ago that the boy fell and a stranger stopped to ask if he was ok and let him use her phone to call me to pick him up.

Today, I got a rude awakening. My neighborhood, might not be as free-range friendly as I thought. I got a call from a number unknown and answered because the boy was at the park and it could have been him. It was the police, asking if my son was missing. No, I told him, my son was not “missing,” I given him permission to go to the park. The officer asked me to come to their location to pick up my child.

I hopped on my bike and was there in about 5 minutes. I was sort of hoping that I’d be able to ask the Boy what happened, thank the officers for their concern and then be on my merry way. I really should have known better. One officer came out to talk to me.

“So can you explain the situation that led to your 8-year-old wandering the streets alone,” he said.

“He wasn’t wandering the streets, sir. I gave him permission to go to the park.”

“But he’s 8.”

“Yes and we’ve discussed the rules, he knows how to cross the street, he has my phone number,” I said, adding, “there are lots of kids his age that come to this park to play. Its safe and I trust my son.”

“Ma’am,” said the officer with exasperation, “It is not safe for you to let your 8-year-old wander the streets without adult supervision.”

“Again, sir, he was not ‘wandering the streets,’ he was at the park, where I told him he could be, and he stopped in here to get some water.”

“He was scared and hungry.”

“Sir, I don’t believe he was scared. He comes here all the time. This is our neighborhood. Did he tell you he was scared? Or lost?”

“No, but…”

“Ok, so why are you here?”

“Someone called us about a kid here alone.”

“But he’s not injured…can I speak to my son please?”

So I go ask the Boy some questions. He just wanted some cold water. He thought the stranger who had called the police was the parent of one of his friends, so when the guy asked if he was hungry, he said sure. As far as he knew the cops had just arrived to have lunch. He still didn’t know that the police were there because of him.

I went back outside.

“So you guys came here to have lunch?”

“No, someone called us.”

“But why? Because a kid came in and asked for water?”

“Because an 8-year-old was wandering the streets alone, scared, and hungry.”

I repeated that, no, he wasn’t scared and he wasn’t “wandering the street.” He was well within the perameters we had agreed on and I don’t see how a kid walking into a fast food joint requesting a cup of water was a problem.

That’s when the other officer decided he was going to try to scare me. What if something had happened?Someone could have snatched my kid up. He could have hurt himself. I countered that it was highly unlikely that anyone would kidnap my son — or anyone’s son for that matter. It’s a safe neighborhood and I think he can handle riding his scooter a few blocks to a local park.

“Have I broken a law?” I was tired of the back and forth. We obviously weren’t going to agree and I wasn’t going to back down or act afraid. “I’ve done some research and as far as I know, there is no law against letting an 8-year-old go to the park.”

“What research?”

I explained that I had looked up crime stats in for the neighborhood. I’ve come to the park and checked it out. I also looked up latchkey kid guidelines and the guideline is that kids can be left without adult supervision starting at the age of 8.

At this point, the officer starts yelling at me about how he knows the penal code and that it is at their discretion to decide if I had been negligent. When I pressed the issue of whether or not I had broken a law, they called their Sargent to ask what they should do.

Now the Boy is standing outside, wandering what’s going on, crying a little because he can tell something’s not right. And this douchebag cop tells him that nothing is wrong and that’s when I snapped.

“Don’t lie to my son.”

“I’m trying to calm him down,” he snapped back. “He’s scared and crying. I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need you to help by lying. Don’t tell him nothing is wrong. If that were the case, you wouldn’t be here…”

“I’m just trying to comfort your crying kid…”

“I understand that, sir. But I don’t want you to lie to him. He’s scared and confused because he knows something isn’t right. You just told me that you could charge me with child endangerment or negligence, which means that there is the possibility that things could go very wrong, all because I let him go to the park. So don’t stand here and lie and tell him everything is OK.”

I explained to the Boy that the police didn’t think it was safe for him to go to the park alone and since they think its dangerous, there may be consequences.

No sooner had I said these words than the douchebag’s partner walked over and explained that they were not going to charge me with endangerment or negligence and would I mind letting them see where we lived to be sure he had food, clothing and a place to sleep?

I agreed, in the essence of being cooperative. I don’t have anything to hide and I was afraid my refusal would make a bad situation worse. So I let the one officer come in and the Boy showed him the pantry and the refrigerator. Before he left, the officer reiterated that they could have taken me to jail and the Boy could have ended up in child protective services, but there wasn’t really any cause, so I was getting off with a warning.

Before the officer left, I asked how old he thought would be appropriate for a kid to go to the park without an adult. Definitely not 8 was his first response. When pressed, he said maybe 13 or 14.

So kids should be locked up until they’re nearly adults because of the remote possibility that something could happen. But honestly, I’m more afraid of the busy-bodies who call the police because a kid walks into a fast food joint and asks for a cup of water.

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Posted in My Life, Parenting, The Boy

Nov 02

Where are all the girls?

I stopped at the park to check on the Boy the other day and noticed something: there were very few girls. There may have been one or two but fairly young and a very watchful adult eye.

All the rest of kids were boys. They varied in age, from maybe 7 to young adult. They all seemed to know each other and were obviously free-range.

And it struck me. Where are all the girls? The boys get to be free-range and the girls get locked away in the house?

I started thinking back to the other parks, the other free-range kids I’ve noticed. All boys. Not a single girl to be found riding her bike or scooter…hanging out with other girls…hanging out with the boys…

So I asked the Boy about it. He could only name two girls he’s played with at the park, one he says is always hurting herself, the other only showed up once.

It pained me to think of the girls who live in my condo community, who aren’t allowed to go outside the gate without an adult. But where do they play then? Because I rarely see or hear them outside on the weekends.

Makes me sad to think of the boys growing up free-range and all the girls being helicopter parented. Imagine the disconnect that will create.

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Posted in Opinion, Parenting

Oct 27

The Boy talks to strangers, and it’s good for him


One of my favorite things about the Boy is that he’s super friendly. Always has been. He waves and smiles to strangers and makes friends quickly. I’m friendly, but definitely not as comfortable with new people as immediately as he is.

And I love watching and listening to his interactions. It’s also why its nice to be in a neighborhood where others also wave, smile and talk to strangers. His friendliness is welcome and people talk to him.

The other day we went to our favorite local indie cafe, Sweet Elle, and there was a younger kid there. As is his style the Boy just walked over and started treating the other kid like they were old friends. A few minutes later I saw him ruffle the kid’s hair. I cringed, concerned he had perhaps crossed the personal space boundary, but the kid just smiled and skipped off.

There’s another kid…a teenager really. I had seen him on the bus several times on his way to school. Sometimes he catches the same bus we do on our way home, and the Boy immediately took a liking to him. And the older boy is friendly, answers all the Boy’s questions with a smile and seems to genuinely enjoy the Boy’s temporary company.

Everywhere we go, the Boy is a social butterfly. I think he has his dad to thank for that, because he definitely didn’t get it from me.

Not that it matters though. It’s wonderful to see the excitement the Boy gets from meeting a new person. And he’s always been partial to chopping it up with dudes. Funny how at the age of two, I knew, the Boy was a man’s man. He’s a social butterfly and makes a habit of talking to strangers. You know what? It’s good for him.

He’s confident and resilient. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him bother anyone who didn’t seem open to being bothered and most of the time people are downright delighted by his inquisitive conversation. While I’m sometimes uncomfortable with his comfort with strangers, I usually resist the urge to interfere. Instead I watch and listen carefully while he learns a skill that will make him a success later in life.

And that, is definitely a good thing.

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Posted in My Life, The Boy

Oct 18

The Boy, the fall and the helpful stranger

I’m always reading about people and their kids being harassed by paranoid, busy-body, safety police at the Free-Range Kids blog. I even had a parent who lives close to The Boy’s school “report” me to the school admins because he showed up at 7 PM asking if their kid could come out to play (to which I responded incredulously: I told him he could go and we live around the corner. I can hear kids playing during recess, we live so close. And there was still sun.).

So, understandably, when I send the Boy out to the park, I worry sometimes that someone will see him and think he’s too young to be out there by himself. But the Boy has always been free-range and living in an upstairs unit in a quiet gated condo community, having parks within walking distance is a necessity for all parties involved. In fact, one of the first things we did when we moved into our new neighborhood was find the closest park and check it out together.

The closest is the school park, which the Boy generally finds boring. But just a little further away is a park with a community center, a skate park, and all sorts of things he can do. Best of all, there are lots of other kids for him to play with as well (with the only adults hanging around to watch the younger kids). He’s even made friends and always makes sure to have their parents call me if they’re concerned with his being out there without adult supervision.

Generally, we’ve learned that our neighborhood is fairly free-range friendly and the Boy goes back and forth from the community center park and home without a hitch. Except yesterday…

He fell and hurt himself on his way home from the park. I figured it was pretty bad because he called me from a stranger’s phone and asked me to come get him. After asking him if he was too injured to ride his scooter home and hearing the distress in his voice, I hopped in the car (rented for the weekend of errand running) and went to pick him up. There he was sitting in a booth by himself, waiting so patiently. When he saw me, he looked so relieved and thanked me for coming so quickly. He exaggerated a little limp and told me that his whole right side hurt from the fall. I could see a bit of evidence, but I decided not to press the issue that he could have totally made it home.

When I asked him whose phone he had used, he said that a lady saw him fall and asked if he needed any help. He asked if he could call his mom to pick him up. He said she didn’t ask about why he was out there alone or anything indicating any disapproval, just let him use her phone told him to wait for me and went on about her business.

And when I picked him up, no one was hovering. The whole situation made me proud of the Boy and my community.

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Posted in Parenting, The Boy

Oct 10

Street Food Festival Saturday

As you can tell from my absence, I’ve been out doing stuff. Haven’t been back boogie boarding yet…I kinda gotta get a boogie board. But I’ve been out and about, living life instead of watching it pass me by.

So today I took The Boy to the Long Beach Street Food Festival where a bunch of gormet food trucks gathered for some hungry folks. I pre-paid and got there early. I wanted to go to yoga, but I also didn’t want to spend all day in line, instead of eating.

We arrived just as they started letting people in. I wanted to look around a little, but I could tell I needed to decide what I wanted to try before the lines got out of control. We started with Knock Out Taco. The blackened shrimp set my mouth on fire and the Con Carne was seasoned beautifully. I ordered Lumpia from the Manila Machine but the fryer wasn’t on yet, so I told them I’d be back and jumped in line for the Grilled Cheese Truck.

Aside from having to wait in line FOR AN HOUR, the grilled cheese was freaking fantastic. The boy and I both got Grilled Mac n’ Cheese; his with just the basics, mine fully loaded. I know it sounds crazy. I was skeptical too. But The Boy insisted that he wanted a Grilled Mac n’ Cheese. So thats what we had.

The lumpia from the Manila Machine was great to top of the savory before we moved on to the sweet. And the tropical shaved ice was the perfect refreshing desert on a hot afternoon.

The Boy really did enjoy that Grilled Mac n’ Cheese. And I enjoyed his company. A great time was had by all.

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Posted in My Life, The Boy

Aug 26

Honey, sometimes shit is hard

I’m not trying to be all dramatic or anything, I just find myself saying that to The Boy a lot these days.

“Honey, sometimes shit is hard.”

Yep. Just like that.

Because it is.

And when he’s crying because his knee hurts, and I’m telling him he needs to make it up the hill so we can catch our bus–when I really want to bike all the way home–what else can I say other than, that sometimes shit is hard?

I also tell him that these challenges don’t have to be so hard. That it’s all in your perception. You can push through the pain to get where you need to go. Just a little bit further. You can do it. I’m proud of you for being so tough. These challenges prepare you to handle for life and the bigger challenges that will inevitably greet you one day.

And sometimes I feel bad because we only have so much time for stalling before I start to get really conscious of the time ticking away and the possibility of missing my bus seems to loom.

“We don’t have time for this,” I snap. “I have a bus to catch and we need to get where we’re going.”

And he’s all, “But my helmet and my knee and ouch my toe…”

And sometimes I lose my patience.

Because, so the fuck what it’s hard. You know what? It really ain’t that hard. I’ve been through harder. Your knee hurts, well so does mine. Almost always. You’re tired from playing all day? Well I was working all day and had to ride the 8 miles from work to the Boys & Girls club because the bus bike rack was full. It was a brutal ride and we have 4 more to go.

I don’t want to hear about your pain, I have my own I’m trying to work through.

But I’m the parent, so its selfish for me to talk about my pain, when he’s talking about his. I’m supposed to keep that to myself and let him believe that the rides are only challenging for him. I’m supermom and can handle it all.

But that load gets heavy and on some level I want him to understand that the shit isn’t easy for me either. I enjoy commuting by bike most of the time, yes. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t also challenging. It doesn’t mean there aren’t days that I wish I had a car, so I wouldn’t have to worry about missing the bus and always being prepared to get on my bike and push myself the distance to get to him on time; before the Boys & Girl’s club closes.

So I tell him, straight up, that it’s not easy. Life isn’t easy. We gotta do, what we gotta do. And sometimes, to get things done, you just gotta grit your teeth, and keep it pushing.

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Posted in My Life, Parenting, The Boy

Aug 13

Kids Fly Solo…

And their parents want answers. That’s what the headline said.

Heh.

I’m of two minds on this myself neither of which include the parents questioning the government or the airline.

1) What resourceful kids! The girl decided she wanted to go to use her money to fly. She’d never done it before. She wanted to try something new. Enlisted her brother and a friend to go with her. Kids travel unaccompanied all the time (hell, my oldest son does it at least twice a year). They weren’t hurt, just a little spooked when they flew into the wrong airport.

2) As a parent who believes in giving my kids a long leash, I’m bothered by the fact that these kids didn’t bother to alert their parents. Is it because they knew they’d be told no? Is it because they didn’t think about it? Either way, they need to understand the responsibility of freedom. Meaning: if you want more freedom, you become responsible for making sure your parents are aware of where you are and coming in the house on time.

I know there will be lots of people blaming the airline employees for not asking questions and not stopping the kids from traveling without parental permission. But it’s not the airline’s fault. It’s not the regulator’s fault. This comes down to kids pushing the boundaries…perhaps a little too far for their parents’ liking.

Without knowing more about the kids or the families, I’ll say that passing the responsibility off to the airline to “ask questions” teaches the kids that they can do what they want, and there will be no consequences. And there should definitely be consequences. The worst thing these parents could do is sue the airline for some perceived negligence. Instead, the parents should talk to their kids about why what they did was wrong, the responsibility of freedom and lay down some ground rules for the next time the kids get the itch to travel. They were all old enough, the only problem is that they didn’t ask permission.

What do you think?

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Posted in Parenting

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