Scooby Doo..We Love You

Scooby Doo, our beloved dog of 12 years, passed on on March 13, 2013. He was very ill and we helped put him out of his misery, though not without much sadness. All four of us—Tanya, myself, Ella and Sophia—have things we'd like to say. Here is Ella's piece.

Scooby Doo

By: Ella Kensley

3/21/13

I am sad but Scooby is in a happy place and is in peace. I love him so much and have lots of happy memories with him and love him with all my heart. He was the best dog in the world. These are hard times and on the 13 he got put down. I hope to see him when I go up there too. Everyone loved him like my friends and family. He always came to the door when I got home from school or a trip. He would never let me down. He would never let me down and could not let me down. That is why I loved him so much. Hope you liked my article.

-Ella

Time Alone...Force it or Not?

Ella was telling me about an elaborate “family” game she played at recess with her fourth-grade friends.

It involved about a dozen kids, and the details were too convoluted for me to keep track of. I changed the subject and asked Sophia, my 7-year-old, what games she played at recess that day.

“I played by myself,” she replied. “Natalia was playing with someone else. So I did some cartwheels and flipped around on the playground. But I was OK with it.”

Sophia has a lot of nice friends and has always managed well socially, occasional playground drama notwithstanding. She’s also sensitive and expresses herself when her feelings are hurt. So I was a bit surprised when choosing to play alone didn’t bother her. Still, her comment did make me wonder: Should parents encourage their kids to spend time alone, or is it not our business?

Humans are social creatures. From the family unit to sports to work, we generally are better supported in teams. Some of us, however, are both capable and willing, to be left alone. Quite often, I am one of those people.

I’m comfortable interacting with friends and family, and I appreciate the importance of trusting others (sometimes) to get jobs done. But I also enjoy hiking in the mountains by myself, or being alone for hours while driving, reading a book or writing.

There are advantages to being able to function alone — for all ages. We develop skills like problem-solving and creativity, and are forced to learn about and trust ourselves.

Someone may not always be around to help, and it’s important to be able to manage on our own in situations at school, work and travel, to name a few.

But if kids choose to be in a group most of the time, will they lag on developing their independence? The question itself may be moot.

As a parent, I teach and encourage behaviors I deem important. Ultimately, my kids will do what they prefer based on their personalities, regardless of what I say.

If they enjoy spending time with their friends, it probably wouldn’t be prudent for me to discourage that in favor of self-reliance. Plus, it’s probably a bit too controlling.

Life is full of circumstances where we may find ourselves isolated for a long time: car breakdowns, travel snafus, relationship break-ups, for example. I admit I don’t want my kids to be lacking in coping skills should these situations arise.

But their lives will be full of opportunities for new learning. And being stuck in strange, challenging and unique situations — all alone — can be a perfect catalyst for the growth I’m trying to impart anyway.

Children without siblings have no choice, at least when they’re at home. As such, functioning alone is an accepted part of their life. And when I think about it, demanding that a child to spend time alone, even for a short time, is analogous to forcing an only child to have a temporary sibling. That doesn’t make much sense, and I’m OK with that.

Parental Evolution

Sophia decided in January that she was ready for sleep away camp this summer. Her older sister Ella will be going with her, but Sophia knows that Mom or Dad won’t be there at night or any other time during her week away.

My first-grader, who just turned 7, has always enjoyed her bedtime snuggles. So you can imagine my surprise when, before bed a few weeks ago, Sophia said, “Dad, you can go. I’m going to skip snuggles tonight. I need to get ready for summer camp.”

I was surprised, proud and a bit sad. Sophia made the independent choice to prepare herself for more than just a week away from home. And as she gradually gets ready for the rest of her life, I have to wonder what my role will be. Will I have to change as much as she does?

From sleeping through the night to making friends to plowing through 700-page Harry Potter books, growth happens fast. And while we’ve endured some tough moments — falling down the stairs, tantrums, and playground drama come to mind — my kids seem to be enjoying their rapid maturation. They’re gaining invaluable confidence on a daily basis, possibly because each new phase also increases their freedom from their parents.

The process is exciting but also a bit frightening. The older they get, the faster the changes seem to occur. All you parents will surely nod your heads when you read this: it seems like just yesterday Sophia was begging me to stay with her in bed until she fell asleep. Now, I get dismissed from the same snuggles I’ve been performing since she’s been able to form the words to request them.

I’m aware of how vital parents are for helping kids develop good habits in everything from sleeping to moral character. We can certainly spend a lot of time and energy planning for every milestone. But the changes happen faster than we can recognize them. It’s hard to know for sure when one stage ends and another begins.

If I’m to let my children fulfill their destinies, my role in their lives will need to evolve. If I stubbornly cling to the notion that they’re always going to want me around in the same capacity, I’ll be in trouble. The trick is figuring out how my growth trajectory can coexist with theirs.

When the pre-teen years roll around, I’ll be the shuttle service. When I need to pretend to tolerate their boyfriends, I’ll try to be polite so my daughters can make their own relationship mistakes. And ultimately learn from them.

I’m already dreading some of those inevitable stages, but I have to continually remind myself that all parents go through the same issues. If there’s anything constant in this world, it’s change. We can fear it or embrace it, but it happens anyway.

Tanya later told me the same thing had happened to her a few nights earlier. I felt better knowing I wasn’t alone, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss that snuggle.

Stereotypes Begin and End at Home

Tanya surprised Sophia with an early seventh birthday present by taking her to get her ears pierced. When I joked that I would do the same, Sophia’s sister Ella told me I was crazy.

“Actually, he’s not,” Sophia said, “Mom’s hairdresser has both of his ears pierced.”

My fourth-grader appeared offended. “But he’s nice!” she exclaimed, as if Sophia had insulted the man.

Plenty of men wear earrings nowadays, so much so that most of us don’t even notice. But I was more concerned with the greater issue of stereotypes. They can be powerful, especially to the young and impressionable. How should we approach this issue with kids?

Like it or not, we all are biased. We constantly make assumptions about people’s appearances — from tattooed arms to tailored business suits to morbid obesity — based on our own experiences. These prejudices can be powerful enough to alienate others and sometimes even dangerous. This takes on added importance for parents because we are often a child’s introduction — and first defense against — stereotyping.

Peers and the media also play vital roles, of course. But as easy as it is to teach a child boys and girls are equal, or skin color or hairstyles don’t impact a personality, the opposite can occur just as easily. Home is where prejudice can begin and end.

Children learn a ton before they start school or can even comprehend today’s incessant media barrage. If Mom or Dad says boys shouldn’t take ballet it will be taken as truth until it’s disproved by someone else. I wonder if I said something to make Ella think boys who wear earrings may not be nice. Was I unknowingly perpetrating stereotypes?

Being Jewish, I’ve been the object of assumptions that fall somewhere between laughable and hurtful. I’m also guilty by joking with my friends about my propensity for seeking bargains or my comical ineptitude with home or car repairs. While my friends are more concerned with my personality than my heritage, I do sometimes feel uncomfortable participating in jokes about my own background considering throughout history, specifically during the Nazi regime in Germany, such unrestrained stereotypes contributed to far more grave consequences.

The longer stereotypes are allowed to persist, the more chance they have of embedding themselves itself into our consciousness. And regardless of age, race, ethnicity or any other target, we are all humans first, desperate to belong, and will do anything to make ourselves feel good.

I don’t want to be hypervigilant about everything I say to my kids, but I don’t want to unwittingly blurt out things that are insensitive, harmless as they may seem at the time. Context, too, can play a role, but using excuses like that to justify behaviors can be perilous.

After dinner, Tanya emphasized that piercing one’s ears is merely an individual preference and doesn’t affect whether someone is mean or nice. I think Ella and Sophia understood, but I still might try to be more careful.

Let Freedom Ring

Tanya and I have a friend named Ann Marie who is single and has no kids. She is as worldly as they come, having taken trips to places such as southeast Asia and Antarctica. She recently hosted a party to show her photos and videos from her most recent adventures in Namibia, Zambia, Botswana and South Africa. I brought Ella and Sophia with me to watch it.

“Does Ann Marie have kids?” Ella asked.

“No.”

“A husband?”

“No.”

“Oh, so that’s why she goes on all those amazing trips!”

Ann Marie’s lack of a husband or kids gives her the freedom to roam. She can devote her time and energy to whatever pursuit she pleases, go where she wants when she wants and is ultimately responsible for only her own survival. Essentially, the opposite of a parent.

Ella’s inference made me think: Does having a family eliminate freedom?

Raising children generates many experiences that can banish even the most flexible personal life into exile. But after enduring the trauma caused by years of sleep deprivation, getting thrown up on, listening to unstoppable tantrums and putting one’s own life on the back burner, I’ve learned that there are indeed rewards for turning babies into functional adults. They’re just different than for nonparents.

Tanya and I still need time away, whether it be a date night or a few nights out of town. But even when our children were very young, we tried not to sacrifice too much of what we liked to do. Our freedom, whatever it amounted to, was too important.

Like Ann Marie, we love to travel. We’ve taken many plane rides (some were, I must admit, quite miserable), sailed on a cruise (Sophia, nearly 2 at the time, was sick for four days), and on one family vacation I suffered a week of sleepless nights and exhausting days on a tiny island with no possible escape.

There are still many trips we’ve yet to take, with and without the kids. However, for a host of reasons (financial, school, time — to name a few), it’s still not feasible right now to take those dream vacations to the Greek Islands or Machu Picchu, or a whole year off to explore the globe.

So we compromise.

Road trips stay under eight hours. Vacations top out at a week and involve grocery shopping and taking the bus. Basically, more Disney and less Delhi. But with each shorter and more tame adventure, we get a different kind of enjoyment, one that comes with watching children explore on their own in a way that suits them. Sometimes I have to remind myself that for a child, a two-mile hike can be just as much fun as a ten-miler, and a beach in San Diego isn’t really all that different from one in Spain.

I’m always at work trying to figure out our next adventure. The only restriction is my own creativity. The freedom we’ve compromised has been replaced by a different kind. And I’m OK with that trade.

Too Quiet?

At dinner a few nights ago, Sophia, my first-grader, suggested we play the “quiet game.”

For those of you without kids, it’s a standard weapon for any parent who’s been in a car with their children for trips longer than 10 minutes: The person who’s quiet for the longest time wins. With Tanya out of town on business, I was not about to argue.

Ella had just had a cavity filled that afternoon and her mouth was still numb, so she couldn’t eat yet. Sophia and I attacked our tacos, while Ella read silently. I figured this particular episode would last as long as previous ones: maybe 30 seconds. But something strange happened. Sophia made it almost 10 minutes without a peep, and Ella was completely absorbed in Harry Potter. I couldn’t handle it.

“It’s too quiet!” I lamented.

“Dad lost!” Sophia yelled, a huge smile plastered on her face.

I thought I’d relish the peace and enjoy my dinner more than usual. Instead, I found myself longing for a mere sliver of the chaos that normally envelops our house at mealtime. Confused with my own desire for noise, I wondered: Should I have felt bad for wanting quiet in the first place?

Take it from a guy who writes a column based on what kids say: Listening to children talk is rewarding. They offer a flowing commentary on life from a perspective that has yet to be jaded by negative experiences or unsubstantiated bias. They are funny, genuine and truthful. I have learned a lot from them.

Nevertheless, no matter how much I love my little animals, how much I want to hear their sweet little voices, how much I adore the funny, unintentionally brilliant things they say, sometimes I just wish they would zip it.

I’m convinced that Ella, my wise yet often logorrheic 9-year-old, likes to hear herself talk. From what happened at school to what she read about in a magazine to something she saw on television, the words flow like a flash flood, with no end in sight to the deluge. And though I want to be a good dad and engage her in conversation, sometimes the endless chatter makes me crazy.

I’ve been caught a few times not paying attention when Ella or Sophia go off on one of their verbal floods. I tune out because I’m tired or worried about money or work or other typical adult concerns. Surely I can’t be expected to hang on every word at all times. There must be times when my inattention is, while admittedly rude, at least understandable.

But on that night at the table, I found myself craving conversation with my kids. Maybe it was because Tanya wasn’t home. Maybe I had had enough silence after spending the day alone in my house, writing. Whatever the case, I realized that when kids win the quiet game, the adult isn’t necessarily a winner, as well.

Silence may be golden, but I guess I don’t need that much jewelry.

Parenting Should be a High Paying Job

Ella needed my assistance for a school project she was working on and was very appreciative when I helped her. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” I joked.

My fourth-grader must have understood my humor because she patted my arm and said, “You get paid in love, Dad.”

With our “fiscal cliff” near miss leaving the subject of economics at the forefront of the 2013 news cycle, I wondered: If somehow there were money in the budget (stick with me on this fantasy), what should parents be paid?

Generally, wages are determined by two major factors: supply and demand, and skill level. Salary structures can also depend on education, experience and location, and vary amongst and within individual markets and employers.

When it comes to parenting, duties are fairly consistent across the board. However, no other legal job that I know of requires the same long-term physical and emotional work, high level of consequences, time commitment and out of pocket expense, while yielding as pithy a financial compensation.

Prospective candidates need to be available all day every day and must absorb ultimate responsibility even when on a break. Parents need to be reasonably competent in many things, including but not limited to: first aid and health related issues, decision-making, creating and adjusting routines, educating, accepting frequent failure, cleaning, cooking, managing complex social and emotional problems, managing finances, multitasking and functioning on minimal sleep. A sense of humor helps, too.

Now, for the pay:

A live-in au pair who cares for children and helps with household tasks can cost about $25,000 a year, after expenses.

A private tutor runs about $35 per hour. Conservatively average five hours a week of help with schoolwork and reading practice over 30 weeks of 12 school years for two kids, and we’re somewhere in the neighborhood of $60,000.

An on-call nurse for about 14 hours a day (from after work until the next morning), 365 days a year, costs about $25 per hour, which adds about another $125,000.

So far, we’re at $210,000, and we’ve included only manpower without many basic out-of-pocket expenses needed to keep children comfortable. Let’s round it up to $225,000.

But the ultimate negotiating fulcrum is hard to monetize. Being a successful parent requires constant awareness, patience and flexibility, which is stressful. It’s not uncommon for many professions to see salary jumps of 10 to 50 times to compensate for a higher stress level and public visibility. (Think hedge fund managers and NFL quarterbacks.) So to adjust for the immense responsibility that goes with successfully raising a human, and incentivizing for a child’s ultimate level of generosity, kindness and overall success during 60-odd years of adulthood, a multimillion dollar yearly salary isn’t out of the question.

Sure, I wouldn’t mind being compensated even a fraction of that amount, but Ella still had it right. Parents are remunerated in less tangible and more valuable ways. The love that pays my salary will always be worth more than cash, with or without budget approval.