Excuse me, do you want to take this outside?

“I am so good at X Box tennis. I bet I can slaughter you.” David told his mom.

Lynn swallowed hard in order not to lose it. Lynn had, she joked, (but only with half seriousness), raised her kids to be playmates. She’d taught David how to play tennis when he was five. He’d played golf with her since he was three. Samantha, her nine-year-old, did yoga with her and both kids loved to go to the water park. Lynn considered playing together to be a great way to connect with her family. Throw in the fact that playing is exercise and everybody wins.

While she was no Serena Williams, X Box Connects was also no kind of tennis.

“Get off the couch and play me out on the court!” Lynn wanted to yell at David. However, instead, she strategically made a bet with him:

“O.k., I bet you can beat me at X Box tennis and I can beat you at real tennis.” she challenged.

“Hey, you know what’s really cool?” Lynn asked him then.

“What?”

“You know that 3-D movie you saw that you loved?”

“Yeah! That was cool!” David replied.

“Playing actual tennis on the court, really seeing the ball and it’s round shape, and holding the racquet, that’s 3-D!”

“Really?”

“Really.” Lynn responded.

Had she just sold real-life to her son as the latest high-tech phenomenon?

With only slight surprise, she realized that yes, of course she had. Her son, as with every other child she knew, had become so ensconced within technology; had strayed so far from real, human games. She was afraid that he was losing touch with the real world. She was afraid of him losing interest in real sensations: The “ping” of the tennis ball as it bounced off your racquet, the “sssss” of the tennis ball can as you peeled off the top…..the cause and effect sounds that occur in real life; so much more resonant than the sound effects generated by virtual reality.

Step # 10: Get your kids back in the real world.

Take anything with the word “Wii” or “Xbox Connect” in it, cross out the words Wii or Xbox Connect, and go do the remaining words, in the flesh: Instead of playing Wii Tennis, go play tennis. Instead of doing Xbox connects golf, go play golf. Forgo Wii drawing to draw. Turn “Wii” back into “Wheee!” which will be the sound of you and your children enjoying real life again; Turn “Wii” into We, as in we are playing together, rather than against a computer-generated opponent.

Playing together, there is inherent interaction and socialization. Sure, you can play the Wii together, but that is more like parallel play, or the type of play that babies, who are not developed socially play. (Aren’t we are supposed to be socially developed by the time you we can hold a Wii controller?) Parallel playing involves babies playing at the same time, in the same space, but not really interacting with each other. Staring at the t.v. screen, manipulating figures on it does not truly allow you to interact with each other: to face each other across the net on the tennis court; to take water breaks in between games; to comment on the wind that is affecting your serve….and playing a non-real opponent on the screen by yourself does not even afford you the pseudo-socialization provided by parallel play.

are you dating your son?

"We just got back from Italy and it was great." my friend told me. I assumed she'd gone with her husband and her mother had stayed with her kids when Jane told me that the hotel room they'd stayed in had been as expensive as the airfare.

"Isn't Italy so romantic?" I asked Jane.

"I guess, but I was with Sam," she said, referring to her son.

"Oh. Did everyone go?"

"No. Just me and Sam. Dan stayed home with Monica because Monica had a basketball game."

"Yep. I take Sam everywhere he's going and Dan takes Monica, since he's her team's coach and all."

"Oh."

"Yeah. No more family vacations. Both kids are on the traveling team level now." Jane told me matter-of-factly.

My heart sank for her. I scrutinized her face to see how badly she felt.

It was blank.

Resolve? Defeat? Acceptance? Indifference? Why was Jane's face blank?

No more family vacations? What kind of nonsense was that?!

Has the vacation become going where the team plays? With the player and the chauffeur?

Apparently it has.

Has the family turned from a romantic couple with kids into coupling within the family - adult/child pairs who see the world together?

Are you dating your son?

choices

i'm driving to pick up the kids from their dad's house last evening, 30 minutes without traffic but 60 minutes with, and on a tuesday evening coming out of the city, it's definitely with traffic. I realize - no, i admit, finally, that i am running on fumes. My car has been thirsty for gas for about 2 days now, and now it's showing signs of dehydration and i'm facing 20 miles left on the 30 mile trip out. living in a city, it's both easy to ignore the need for gas in a car and it's difficult to find a gas station. the past 2 days, i'd been facing the choice between getting gas at one gas station or running into Whole Foods to get my favorite vegan chocolate chip muffin. The muffin won out, I was sated my hunger, my car stayed thirsty. But there was just not enough time to do both before the baby had to go down for a nap.

So now i'm facing the result of my choices. The gas light is red as is undoubtedly my face, from stress. i'm swimming in a sea of traffic. I know that around the next corner, there is at least 1 gas station. i am conscious of the red gas light playing off of the red lights, that keep turning red, forcing me to use more and more gas while getting nowhere. To boot, there is a Prius right in front of me, as if with an "I told you so" message. I wouldn't run out of gas in a Prius.

Finally, when the light turns green, I see it up ahead. It looks to be a Shell gas station. Or wait, it could be a Burger King. I still haven't succumbed to wearing my glasses - some grey hair is enough, i'm not that old yet - so I can't quite make out if I'm coming upon a Burger King or a Shell station. The yellow and red colors are muted and hazy. My heart beats faster as my slight anxiety disorder kicks in. I find myself doing three of the things common to people with anxiety issues: overestimate the odds: the odds are huge that i will run out of gas before i get to a gas station; assume the worst possible outcome: my cell phone will die on the spot so i won't be able to call for a tow to a gas station; assume I won't be able to deal with the situation: I will freak out and will be carted off to a psychiatric hospital, baby in tow....

And then, yes, it's a Shell station! I relax a bit but then see the "cash only" sign. I prepare myself for the psyche hospital, thinking who i'll call to tell when they admit me....

And there it is, the Mobil station. Feeling seeps back into my now-numbed arms and legs.

There are many Mobil stations in life. Moral of the story? Take time and get yourself that muffin. There are enough Mobil stations around, but there's only 1 you and you need to feed yourself to be able to take care of your kids. Besides. what's a little vacation in a psychiatric hospital? You don't have to fly there, and there's plenty of rest....

Going from Humanoid Back to Human: The Ten Steps

more on The 10 Steps

to go from humanoid back to human:

1. Put yourself first (sometimes).

Putting yourself first lets you show your children that you are a person too. Your children need to know that there are others in the world besides them. They need to know that others have needs too and that the world does not revolve around their needs. If your children don't learn this, they risk becoming entitled, self-centered, and even narcissistic.
So take a job, a hobby, a class.....or just take a walk around the block. Schedule something for you rather than scheduling another activity for your child. Doing something for yourself - you'll be happier. And a happier parent is a better parent.

2. Keep the family together.

Do things as a family rather than going from one individual's activity to another. Maintain the family unit and your couplehood.

The man or the woman who helped you bring your kids into the world shouldn't be relegated to mere "roommate" status once your kids have arrived. Spend some time with your spouse. Try going with him or her to one child's soccer game one week and the other child's soccer game the next, instead of splitting up so that one of you is at each game each week but apart from each other. Studies have shown that satisfaction with marriage tends to decrease once people have children. Lack of time for each other plays a part in this. Engaging in activities together is believed to be something that bonds couples.

Plan some family activities to do with your kids, rather than just watching them as they perform on the field or watching them in the rearview mirror as you drive them to their next activity! The family is a traditional unit, needed for our happiness and survival. Honor it and keep it alive!

3. Don't be your child's friend.

You are not your child's peer. Your child is not your equal. You are an authority figure. You don't have to listen to your child but your child has to listen to you. Make this clear in order to teach your child to identify and respect authority figures.

4. Get disorganized.

Loosen up, lose the schedule Instead of scheduling a "playdate", just send your child outside to play and see if the neighborhood kids can join in.

5. Bore your kids.

Actually open the Sunday paper. Let the kids fend for themselves. You might be amazed at what they come up with to do! Teach your children how to entertain themselves. Allow them to develop their creativity and exercise their imaginations.

6. Put your children to work.

Have your child help out around the house during the weekend instead of play on that second soccer team. Teach him to contribute to the family rather than just taking from it. Teach your child to give to others and let him experience a sense of accomplishment and responsibility. And working together - side by side - can foster connections between you and your kids, by providing a safe, non head-on, non-confrontational environment in which to relate to one another.

7. Miss the soccer game.

Go for a run when you drop your kid off at the game. Do something you enjoy while your child does something he enjoys. Let your child know that sports is not about who's watching them. You don't need to watch them play while they don't need to watch you run.

8. Pare down.

Give your child a new football rather than the latest cell phone for his 8th birthday. Throw an old-fashioned birthday party with musical chairs and the limbo rather than a "ball" in a rented hall with an appearance by Cinderella.. Teach your children to appreciate the simple things in life while leaving them something to look forward to when they get older. Get back to moderation n material things as well as in scheduling.

9. Tell your child she did not do a good job.

Give your child a sense of reality and a basis of comparison. Do not set her up to have to be perfect. This is not fair and can cause problems in the future such as low self esteem, eating disorders, cheating behaviors, etc. Let your child mess up and learn from her mistakes. Teach her to handle criticism.

Accept imperfections in your own self. And admit them: model your behavior for your kids.

This includes physical imperfections, and acceptance of aging. This is particularly challenging in a world in which younger and younger people are seeking cosmetic surgery...According to the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, total cosmetic surgery procedures increased by 87% in 2011 from 2000...

10. Get back in the real world.

Limit "screen time" on computers, video games, and t.v. Got out and get some real exercise instead of playing Wii Sports. Play some real music together instead of playing Wii Rockband. Spark up some creativity and your energy levels rather than your electronics. Research has shown that overuse of media is harmful to kids' social skills. For example, check out:

Dev Psychol. 2012 Mar;48(2):327-36. Epub 2012 Jan 23. Media use, face-to-face communication, media multitasking, and social well-being among 8- to 12-year-old girls. Pea R, Nass C, Meheula L, Rance M, Kumar A, Bamford H, Nass M, Simha A, Stillerman B, Yang S, Zhou M.

get in the game

I am choosing to be in the game rather than watching from the sidelines. What game? The game of life. The game I practiced for during my entire childhood. Through school, college, and beyond. Through decisions about jobs, relationships, and through negotiating with my own parents until I grew up and became a parent myself. We've worked hard to grow up! And now we can live life the way we want to. We can go after our goals and dreams.
We can play the game after all our practice. But how do we remember to do so?

Our children have come to expect that we will watch them do almost anything. And that we should. My son is one example. The other day, he asked me why I never came to his hockey clinic. (His clinic is essentially a class in hockey during which he learns to turn, do cross-overs and other such hockey skills, and that usually ends in a scrimmage.) When he asked, I was tired and irritable and I just initially blurted out, “Why should I watch you practice?” I went on to ask him if I expected him to watch me practice things, like swimming laps. I quickly then realized that this was a teaching moment and that maybe my son really waned to know why I didn’t watch his practice and so I changed my tone. “I’m sorry for being harsh with my answer.” I told him. “I’m sorry for being rude. I didn’t mean to be rude. And then my son was listening to me and so I continued. I told him again that his hockey practice is doing sports and sports are not about who’s watching. And practices are for him, as sports are. My son responded, “But why does Dad come watch my practices then?” (I am divorced from his dad). I responded “I don’t know.” My son replied, “Because he loves me.” "Yes, dad loves you," I told my son, “adults enjoy seeing their kids do things and they get pleasure from what their kids do.” I told my son that I enjoy watching some games, but that I don’t necessarily get pleasure from everything he does, and that he likes; that I get pleasure from seeing him do things he enjoys and from doing things I like. I added that everyone has their interests and that’s good.

By the time we got to hockey practice and it was time to drop him off (this discussion happened on the way to practice, in the car) I added my final point. I told him that although I wanted to write on my laptop during his practice, I realized I had to go to the grocery store to get the night’s dinner. I told him that instead of going to the grocery store and instead of watching him practice, I wanted to do some writing. I told him I wanted to do something for myself.

Then my son called me selfish. I responded that I wasn’t being selfish. I told him that all day I’d done things for everyone else: I’d taken care of the baby during the day, and then him and his sister. I asked my son if when he became an adult, would he like to not doing anything for himself – just take care of everyone else? He responded yes, but hesitantly. I asked him if he wanted to do anything as an adult – did he think he would have plans for his life when he was an adult or did he think he would just do everything for everyone else. I mentioned he would probably have plans for his life and ambition for himself. I reminded him that I have plans and goals and ambition.

He was then silent. I had gotten through to him.

You can get through to your kids by being honest. With them but first with yourself. Honestly, it’s o.k. to want things for yourself. You are a person. You don’t have to give up being a person when you become a parent. Your kids need to know that too. My son called me selfish for wanting to work toward one of my goals, writing, instead of watching him pursue his. Who was being selfish? Our kids are acting selfishly if they expect us to give up ourselves for their every act of being. It is not their fault. We are encouraging them by attending all of their sports and even practices. We need to stop not only for their sake but for ours as well.

Waking up from Robotic Parenting means remembering that you are a person too. And showing your children so that they will realize that you - and all adults - are worthy (of respect, consideration.......but that is another post!.)

the luncheon

I just got home from an adult playdate (I can't stop using this formal term, "playdate". Why?! Whatever happened to just "coming over"?) I need to stop using this term so casually because "adult playdate" sounds at least R rated and i'm just talking about going to my friend's house for a visit. Anyway, I went to my friend "Sandy"'s house and she had another friend stop by. This other friend was very nice and she stayed for some tea. We sat during this rated G adult playdate in the living room drinking an amazing tea whose exotic herbs could have made it at home both in our tea cups in suburbia and in the bag of a shaman in Kenya. The tea was doing its job, producing a medicinal-like effect - the (temporary) relaxation of three moms with typical perma-angst about their kids. Until....

"How's Cannon doing?" Lisa asked Sandy.

"Well he's not into football anymore. He's just not that good at it."

"Oh that's too bad," Lisa responded.

"Yeah I know. I'm really frustrated."

I sat there in silence, my face lingering over the cup, enjoying the heat stroking my chin from below, before softly wafting into my nasal passages, clearing my head from the inside.

"I really want Cannon to find the sport that he likes. I just don't know what to do. He's just not that good at football. And we tried hockey and that didn't work...."

"It's just so important to find your sport." Lisa responded with a knowing look of concern and support.

The way my old and new friend were describing him, Cannon could have been a wayward twenty-something, 6 months out of college with no direction for his career,struggling to find his "thing". But he wasn't. He was a 9-year-old boy in elementary school, not interested in or maybe not good at a sport.

I was confused. I hadn't joined in the conversation and I felt as if maybe I was missing something. My friends were flummoxed and anxiety-ridden over a grade-school child's lack of mastery over a sport. And I couldn't help noticing the use of "we", as in, "We tried hockey and that didn't work...." Did Sandy try hockey or did Cannon? Did Sandy and her husband try hockey for Cannon? Why was Sandy so involved in what was essentially Cannon's recreation? Since when have parents tried so hard to manufacture, manage, and even integrate themselves into their children's playtime?

I didn't get it. But then I questioned myself - while my son was happy for the moment playing soccer, why wasn't I researching and preparing for his next atheletic pursuit? And, how happy and good was he, really, at soccer? ...

Take Your Time, Hurry Up!

Take your time, hurry up! is an expression that is quite apropos for today's parent. The hurry up part is the practice of parents rushing from place to place. The take your time part is practiced by coaches of the activities to which we are rushing to take our kids....

In yesterday's rush, I broke a nail getting out the door. Now this is sad when you consider that i have no nails. There was no "Oh my God, I broke a nail!" and the ensuing emergency trip to Bea's Nails for a fix. Nothing so glamorous as to throw a wad of cash at the problem and come out of it with a new glossy red paint job. No, I broke my nail such that it split into the actual live part of the nail, leaving the thick whitish top of it hanging. I don't have time for the former scenario, nor in all honesty, the inclination. Now toenails are another thing, but that's another story...

So. I get to the practice I'm rushing to "half an hour beforehand" as continuously instructed by my son's coach, through my son. I kiss what turns out to be the air my son leaves behind, as he is long gone, having taken off as soon as we've reached the parking lot, for fear anyone will see him with his mom. I mean who does he think people think drove him there? the car itself?

I then get back into the car and head to my 45 minute foray into the grocery store. That's 45 minutes of actual shopping time, then there's the 15 minutes to load the groceries in the car and drive home, the 15 minutes to unload and then the 15 minutes to drive back to practice and pick my son up. If I wasn't type A before i had kids, I am now. I need to be just in order to function.

I choose 2 "cheater salads" already washed, chopped, and bagged, rather than opting to forrage through the green leaf lettuces to check for quality and absence of major dirt and bugs. I choose to trade the extra 1.5 dollars it costs for the extra 1.5 minutes I gain in doing so. Time really is money these days.

I am done in under 45 minutes and go home to unload. That leaves 10 extra minutes. What should i do with these 10 free minutes? I waste 1 minute wondering and then I spy the newspaper across the room and I grab it and sit down. 8.5 minutes to read the day's news will have to do.

It's 15 minutes until the end of practice and so i head out the door. I arrive exactly on time and I wait on the sidelines until the coach dismisses the kids. I wait 5 minutes and then check my watch again. It's 10 minutes after the time practice is supposed to have ended but the kids are still practicing. I fish around in my knapsack to find my cell phone. I feel the phone and take it out to check the time. I am thinking maybe my watch is running early and the cell phone will have the right time. Nope. My watch is right and running on time.

I think of all the dishes in the sink and how they're piling up. Though I know I'm exaggerating, it makes me nervous nonetheless. Time is not only money, it's a precious commodity that we all are lacking these days. It's as if, waiting for this overdue practice to end, time is being wasted, poured into the big drain where lost dreams and unfulfilled promises go.

In my state of angst, I am now picturing the dishes, in my absence, actually multiplying in the sink. I check my watch again. It's 15 minutes past the end of practice. I am about to check my cell phone for the time again when mercifully, the coach calls out, "O.k. boys, nice job. We're done."

I secretly wipe the sweat from my temples and put on a smile for my son. "Did you have a good time at practice?" I ask as he dodges me to walk in front of me to the car, apparently wanting people to think that maybe he will be driving himself home for the evening?