Can Song Lyrics be Dangerous...For Parents?

Earlier this year I was listening to a Taylor Swift CD with Sophia, my 6-year-old, when the song "Picture to Burn" came on. "You know there's a bad word in there," Sophia said. "Mom said I can say it only if I'm singing along."

I shrugged.

"You know, the S-word," she said.

I was pretty sure that girl-next-door Taylor Swift didn't curse in her songs, but could I have been wrong? "What word is that?" I asked, with "sexy" or that other S-word coming to mind.

"Stupid," she said.

I exhaled. We listen to a lot of music in our house, but I'd never given much thought to how it might influence my children. I don't want to deprive them of the joys of music, but many of the songs that appeal to them - the ones with catchy, danceable beats - are thematically inappropriate for young kids. What can I do?

I have two confessions. First, some of the songs I listen to contain language I would not want my children to hear. Second, my children have inadvertently heard parts of those songs. I do my best to make sure they don't, but accidents happen.

I consider myself a responsible parent and citizen, and an adult with a right to make my own choices. I also have the ability to separate offensive messages in the media with reality. At 8 and 6, my children don't yet have the intellectual capability to determine what kind of social input could be harmful to them. My job as a parent is to limit their exposure to such things.

Unfortunately, many (if not most) of today's popular songs contain language that would have been considered scandalous 20 years ago. Radio stations bleep out the really bad words, but what's left often refers to sex, drinking, drug use and many other implicitly mature themes. Sometimes, even I'm horrified.

When adults hear things they know are taboo in society, they are less likely than children to be strongly influenced by them. Life experience and brain development allow us to understand context, weigh consequences and control our impulses. But if impressionable kids hear these messages enough, they may learn to think it's normal to glamorize sexual promiscuity and doing drugs. In other words, they can become desensitized.

Our family listens to the radio a lot, and not all songs are inappropriate. When a song comes on that I don't want my kids to hear, I change the station (when Ella doesn't tell me to do it first). What else can I do?

I can restrict listening to certain stations at home, but for how long? I can control what CDs they have in their room or what's on their iPod, but what about at a friend's house? Or at the mall? Or at school? I try to be open-minded when it comes to allowing my children the opportunities to make good choices, but this issue is not going away.

I can't be stupid about it.

Consistency and Consequences

Last week while trying to get the kids ready in the morning, I asked Sophia several times to put her dishes away, brush her teeth and put on her jacket. "Get moving or Ella and I are leaving without you," I finally said.

Sophia put her hand on her hip and replied, "No you won't because then I'll call the police and you'll get in trouble."

"True," I responded, somewhat embarrassed.

Six-year-old, 1. Dad, 0.

Sophia eventually got into the car, and we made it to school and work on time. But my kindergartener's statement got me thinking about how we frame choices to our children. All the parenting manuals say consistency is key, but even parents aren't perfect. So when it comes to threatening consequences, how consistent do we really need to be?

In our innocent until proven guilty justice system, all laws leave room for interpretation. Still, I'm pretty sure that if I had left Sophia alone and she called the police, I would have gotten into big trouble. If the authorities arrived at my house to find that I willfully left my 6-year-old at home just to teach her a lesson, I suppose I could have gotten slapped with a Class 2 misdemeanor child abuse charge, according to the Colorado Child Neglect and Abandonment Statutes. And the lesson would have been mine to learn, not hers.

Of course, I never would have done it, and therein lies my predicament. By offering up a consequence that I had no intention of enforcing, I set myself up for disaster. Sophia knew I wouldn't go anywhere, so I dodged a bullet that time. Or did I? She may be more likely to ignore my next threat on the same basis.

Kids are sensitive to sincerity (or lack thereof). If Sophia and her 8-year-old sister, Ella, learn that mom and dad always deliver on their promise of a time out, they'll probably be less likely to repeat an act that might cause it. But if I threaten on Monday to take away television for three days and let them watch on Tuesday, they won't take me seriously.

The difficulty arises when parents act human like everyone else and slip up. Consistency, at least with regard to parenting, shouldn't equate with 100 percent compliance. At least I hope not because that kind of strict adherence is impossible. Circumstances change and flexibility can sometimes be an asset. It shows our kids that the world doesn't exist in extremes. Sometimes I wonder if watching us err actually leads to more learning anyway.

A parent's role includes so much more than setting rules and routines. One of our most vital jobs is to teach kids about humility. That kind of instruction often takes place passively, as they watch us deal with and accept our shortcomings.

The jury's still out on whether my empty threat will eventually be used against me. Regardless, I'll do my best to follow through, and be glad that Sophia didn't.

Life Ain't Always Fair...

Last week while I was reading my daughter Sophia a bedtime story, her sister Ella snuck into the room with a blanket over her head and crawled to the side of the bed. Suddenly, both girls jumped on me and started tickling. After we had a good laugh, I settled them down enough to finish Sophia's bedtime routine.

When it was Ella's turn, Sophia copied her sister by sneaking into Ella's room. But it was getting late and I was looking forward to a few minutes to myself.

"Ella got to surprise you. Why not me?" Sophia asked. She stomped away and returned from her room with a frown and a dry erase board held in front of her chest. It read: "Mene dady. It is not fare."

I tried to be serious, but I'm a sucker for misspelled insults. Sophia wasn't amused and continued pouting. That night, my wife, Tanya, shrugged and said, "Well, life's not always going to be fair." It made me wonder: Should we strive for fairness in our family?

If children born to the same parents were strictly a product of their external environments, all siblings would turn out the same. We know, however, this is not true. Parents can distinguish differences early in their children's lives and are forced to adjust their behavior accordingly. In a child's eyes, this might amount to favoritism.

Tanya and I don't favor one child over another, but Ella and Sophia's age difference and contrasting temperaments make complete equality impossible. Ella sometimes stays up later and has sleepovers. Sophia goes to a movie with just Mom. Ella gets new shoes. Sophia goes skating with Dad. Sometimes they want what the other has, and jealousy presents itself. "It's not fair," is a common refrain.

Our job as parents is to prepare our children to handle the real world, including its cruel realities. Despite our best intentions, society doesn't dole out equal shares of rewards and punishments. A devoted family man loses his entire portfolio in the stock market and struggles to feed his family. A tsunami destroys an entire village of hardworking fishermen. Nice people get sick. Criminals go free. The world moves forward, whether we think things are fair or not. In the presence of injustice, real or perceived, it's our responsibility to either do something about it or accept it.

Eventually, our children will develop and grow into their own personalities. When that happens, they will diverge from their parents and one another. Jobs, relationships and other life situations will present themselves. Not all of them will be fair, and Mom and Dad won't be around to sort it out. I want my children to understand that while they can't always control what happens around them, they can control their own reactions.

I returned to Sophia's room and explained to her that sometimes Ella feels jealous of things she gets to do and that life won't always turn out even-steven. Mom and Dad do their best, but in all fairness, it's not so easy.

Connecting with the Universe

The other day in the car, a favorite song of mine came on. "Girls," I said to my daughters, "this is the same group who sings the song you like from that movie, 'School of Rock.' "

The instant after I said it, the very song I was talking about started playing. "Do you know what this means?" I asked excitedly. "It means we're connected to the universe! We asked for the song and it came on."

Sophia, my 5-year-old, was controlled in her happiness. "I didn't know I could do that," she said.

I believe that a positive attitude leads to happiness and success. If you want something enough and focus your energy on it, my wife Tanya and I tell our daughters, you can have and achieve whatever you desire. I call it "connecting to the universe."

In the real world, though, no one is successful 100 percent of the time. Children need to learn that adversity happens and the skills to deal with it. So I wonder: by promoting the ideas of unfailing positivity and a belief that one can manifest anything, am I setting up my kids for disaster?

I discussed this with a friend of mine whose outlook is different from my own. He works in the financial industry, dealing daily with billions of dollars in assets. He says that realists are idealists with experience and attributes his philosophy of enthusiastic caution to his job requirements. In analyzing countless statistics and measures that contribute to the global economy, he needs to be prudent. If he ignores significant data because of their unpleasantness, he runs the risk of financial disaster for his clients.

As a physical therapist, I have to concentrate on my patients' abilities - what they can do. If I heed the deficits more than I capitalize on the strengths, my clients may not realize their potential. Consequently, much of my life is spent convincing people of what is possible. And while the realism of certain conditions is unavoidable, I've learned that the human spirit is limitless when a desire is strong enough.

Our argument illustrates the depth of such philosophical differences. Some of my friends think I'm nuts, that my ideas run from naive, new-age mumbo jumbo to dangerous idealism. They joke at how my children are being set up for a life of rude awakenings. But I'd rather my kids be optimistic and be disappointed every once in a while than spend their lives living in a vacuum of pessimism. The results of positivity and belief in self-determinism, from Martin Luther King Jr. to Tim Tebow, are undeniable.

On the way home, Ella, my 8-year-old, asked me to change the radio stations. "I want to hear that song. I'm trying to connect to the universe," she said. I obliged her but, alas, no luck. "Why isn't it working?" she asked, sounding sad.

The beginning of the end, perhaps?

That night we manifested our song from iTunes and played it endlessly. The universe works in mysterious ways.

Teanage Pregnancy...Be Very Afraid

Ella and Sohpia, not pregnant
 Boynton Beach, Florida

On Christmas day, my daughters Ella and Sophia were pretending to be mothers to the new dolls they got that morning. Ella mentioned that she had become a mother at 8 years old.

"You can't have a baby at 8," my wife Tanya said. "That's impossible."

"OK, then I was 15," Ella said.

I breathed deeply to control my rocketing heart rate and oncoming nausea, then said, "Fifteen? There's no way you're getting pregnant when you're in high school. Don't even joke about it."

"We're just playing, Dad," Sophia, my 5-year-old said.

I wasn't amused. "I can't talk about this. You'll ruin your life if you have a baby before you finish college. Period."

Despite the challenges inherent in teenage pregnancy, I'm sure there are success stories out there. Nevertheless, I'll admit that no situation scares me more for my daughters than them having babies before they're ready. Just the thought of it gives me chills. Am I overreacting?

Family dynamics have changed considerably in the last century. The U.S Census Bureau website states that in 1900 the average American lived to be 47. In 2007, it was 77. When a woman was unlikely to live past her mid-40s, it made sense to have children earlier, whether she was ready emotionally or not. If she waited too long, she might not be alive to see her children grow up. And in a time when large families were necessary to help on the farm or with the family business, delaying motherhood and devoting time to professional pursuits was rare, even selfish.

Nowadays, it's no mystery that having a post-secondary education leads to more professional opportunities, higher earning potential and most importantly the ability to educate oneself. According to the National Center for Education Statistics, 57 percent of all college graduates in 2009 were female. Not surprisingly, then, almost 60 percent of American women are currently employed in the workforce (www.BLS.gov). Given the gender equality that now exists in the educational and professional arenas, as well as advances in reproductive medicine, women (and their partners) can afford to wait a few years to start a family.

For me, the issue is primarily biological. The frontal lobe of the brain, which is responsible for impulse control, judgment and assessing risk, is not fully developed until our early 20s. Any parent will tell you that if you can't control your drives or make heady choices, you're doomed to be eaten alive by the 24/7 job of parenting.

The divorce rate, consistently more than 50 percent tells us that most grown adults can't handle long-term relationships any better than irritable, immature, hormonal teenagers. Kids crave stability, which is not typical for a demographic that has to juggle school, work and finances, as well as the unforgiving minefields of peer pressure, dating and (gulp) sexuality.

Finally, if we don't trust our youth to control how much alcohol they can drink until they are 21, why isn't there a similar law prohibiting them from having babies before then?

I hope Ella got the point.

Never Lose Your Sense of Wonder...

Buddy Peanut lounging on the thermostat

The day after Thanksgiving, an elf (named Buddy Peanut by Ella and Sophia) comes to visit our house. Every night Buddy returns to the North Pole to report back to Santa Claus on our behavior and ends up in a different spot the next day.

A couple of weeks ago Ella, my 8-year-old, said, "Buddy's eyes look like they're painted on. Why are his legs sewn together?" She paused, looking pensive. "Dad, is Buddy real?"

"I don't ask questions," I replied, feeling the dubious eyes of my 8-year-old. "All that matters is what you believe."

Last year around Christmastime, I wrote about Ella's skepticism of a mall Santa, her first hint of doubt on the subject. With her questions about Buddy the elf, she might have taken another step toward a dream-dashing, reality-infused adulthood. I'm not naive; I know that all kids grow up and secrets eventually get divulged. So why did Ella's normal transition from idealism to realism make me feel so sad?

When we are young, we believe everything our parents tell us. To be successful adults, we need to make decisions based on logic and intellect. It's not always an advantage to accept everything at face value. When it comes to matters of faith, like Buddy Peanut's nightly rendezvous with Santa, rules go out the window.

Having watched my two daughters grow up for the last eight years, I've noticed that a large percentage of childhood is spent in a fantasy world. I am constantly dragged into the world of role-play and make-believe. While I don't always participate, I at least enjoy watching it. Ella and her 5-year-old sister, Sophia, escape into worlds without boundaries or limitations, unburdened by the anchors of reality.

Sometimes I watch them and realize that once their fanciful beliefs get shattered, they will never be the same again. I ask myself how they are going to manage in a world filled with tragedy, violence, greed and negativity, without the advantage of an easy escape.

Lately, I've realized two things: part of my role as a parent is to nurture the mysteries that make childhood magical. And more importantly, growing up shouldn't equate to losing one's sense of wonder.

Christmas spirit means more than Santa Claus being pulled by flying reindeer and bringing presents to every child in the world in one night. It is about sharing undying love, celebrating life and believing in something greater.

At Christmas, more than any other time, we need to trust our convictions. These notions can and should exist at any age. In order for us to live fulfilled lives, they should be strengthened, not weakened, over time.

Ella eventually stopped asking questions about Buddy. I overheard her talking to her sister that night. "Sophia," she began, "if Buddy hears us saying he might not be real, he might stop coming and tell Santa we don't believe." Sophia nodded passionately, and I knew right then the realities of adulthood would wait another year.

For me, too.

Merry Christmas.

Love Beats Money, Every Time

Ella came home from school excited to recount a story from one of her teachers.

"Mrs. Vesely visited a village in Africa where some of the poorest people live. And it turns out," Ella said excitedly, "they're really happy."

Tanya, my wife, challenged our third-grader. "Wouldn't it make sense that the more you have, the happier you would be?"

"No, it's not money that makes you happy. It's love," Ella replied.

"Did Mrs. Vesely tell you that?" Tanya probed.

Ella shook her head. "I figured it out on my own."

Ella stumbled upon a realization that may forever alter her view of life. At the risk of simplifying a complex issue, and to paraphrase the Beatles, love may indeed be all we need. Could it really be that simple?

Around holiday time, it's easy to get caught up in the cult of commercialism. Even if we make our yearly shopping pilgrimages strictly to buy for others, it's easy to get sucked into collecting things for ourselves, too. The barrage of advertisements tells us more is better, and it's hard to resist stockpiling our possessions.

I'm not against pumping funds into our struggling economy, and I'm certainly not against responsible gift-giving to loved ones and the less fortunate. The problem is when the tendency to buy gifts overtakes the desire for generosity of spirit, which is the true meaning of the holidays. It doesn't happen intentionally, but materialism has a way of transcending the meaningful by playing on our greed. While that new toy or necklace might give short-term happiness, it can never replace our need for quality time with one another.

A friend of mine and his wife in Chicago decided a few years ago that from now on at Christmas they would forgo gifts for each other. They donate the money they would have spent and instead volunteer their time and energy at schools and shelters. They give gifts that help their beneficiaries more than any wrapped present could, and they feel better. Emotions can't be quantified on a balance sheet.

Along the same lines, gifts can't provide love. No matter how much I love my television and my iPod, they don't hug back. When I die, I'll never remember what I got for Christmas in 2011, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember serving someone a hot meal or snuggling in bed with my kids on Christmas morning.

This discussion repeats itself every year because it's easy to get swept up in the holiday hoopla. I lament the absurd sales that begin at midnight and the unimaginable sums of money spent on gifts that go unused by Presidents Day. Every year, I vow to buy fewer gifts and to pay more attention to things like volunteerism, charity and human connection. Alas, I am a work in progress.

So given our insatiable desire for emotionless possessions, is it possible to be happy with only the bare necessities?

Only if Ella and the Beatles were right.