Painting Toenails...for boys too

A couple of weeks ago, Ella spent the day at her friend Riley's house. Riley's mom was helping the girls paint their toenails. Ella, my 8-year-old, mentioned in passing that I had my toes painted as well. Riley's mom asked, "Really? Did Andrew let you and your sister paint his toenails?"

"Oh no," Ella replied. "Daddy has his toes professionally done."

Before you question my manhood, here's the story. This summer, my wife cut her hand and needed stitches. Once her fingers had healed, I bought her a manicure, and treated my kids to one as well. Since I needed something to do in the meanwhile, I treated myself to my first pedicure. The orange polish was Ella's choice.

Since males don't generally have their toenails painted, I received some interesting feedback when I wore sandals this summer. I wasn't embarrassed, but I wondered: Are traditional gender roles still valid in today's society?

Dads are no longer the only breadwinners and moms aren't the only ones who know to separate whites and colors. Yet gender distinctions endure because it's hard to change old habits.

For many years, women stayed home and men provided for the family because those in charge (the men) decided it should be so. Once we realized women were able to do the same jobs men could, females joined the workplace and thrived.

Nowadays, many parents share equally in the tasks that were once considered the property of one sex or the other, like financial responsibilities and domestic management.

One parent isn't always responsible for the same thing, which leads to less stress. If Mom can work full-time and read bedtime stories, Dad should be able to work and pack lunches, but both should be flexible when required.

Raising two girls has given me perspective on gender roles. If we're restricted because of simply being male or female, what prevents us from being restricted by other factors?

The only true boundaries are ones we create for ourselves and for each other. Girls and boys, while different, still belong to the same species.

Ella and her sister Sophia's reality consists of what they see at home. When Tanya works extra shifts and still comes home in time for bedtime cuddles, they learn that moms help more than just their own kids. When Dad mows the lawn and then plays Barbies, it shows that fathers, too, can be well-rounded.

Despite my preference for flaunting conventional roles, I will confess to one thing of which I am afraid: the pubescent years, where I'm happy to leave the nuances of menstruation and makeup to my wife.

And I'm sure Tanya is equally happy if I continue to carry in the heavy groceries. So maybe some traditions don't change.

The essence of parenthood has nothing to do with whether I'm more comfortable playing dress-up with a bunch of 8-year-old girls (Ella's friends think I'm a bit nutty) or working with a table saw. (I don't even own one.)

All that matters is that I'm there. Orange toes or not.

It's All in the Voice

A few months ago, my wife was getting ready to leave the house with our daughters, Ella and Sophia. The kids were fighting and generally not cooperating, despite Tanya's repeated requests to get moving.

"Alright, that's it!" Tanya yelled. "Everyone get in the car right now or I'm leaving you at home by yourselves!"

The girls ran into the car without a word but Tanya was still seething. After a few deep breaths, she looked in the rearview mirror and said in her most over-the-top, flowery voice, "OK, ladies, who's going to have a great day today?"

Ella, our 8-year-old, was shocked. "Mom, where did your mean voice go?" she asked.

Tanya didn't know the answer. She needed to do something to keep the rest of the day from becoming a stressful, angry mess so she made an effort to change her attitude. Her rapid reversal worked; Ella was more concerned with Tanya's quick personality switch, the girls stopped fighting and everyone had a good day. This common situation made me wonder: Why is it so hard for us to turn bad situations into good ones?

Stubbed toes. Burned toast. Car won't start. For some reason, when a day starts out bad, it usually gets worse. We brood about what went wrong and recite quotes like, "when it rains it pours" or go on about "Murphy's law." The conscious attitude change that's needed to turn things around isn't easy. But the longer we stay upset, the less likely we are to change it.

We know intuitively that complaining won't help, yet we do it anyway. It seems natural to lament what went wrong. Maybe we're looking for sympathy or someone to tell us it'll all work out or maybe we simply don't know what else to do. But we can create or destroy our own stress.

I've witnessed tantrums from both of my kids. They cry and scream as if the world is about to end and are generally inconsolable. If I were somehow driven to act like that, I'd be traumatized for a week, maybe longer, worried about all the consequences. But for Ella and Sophia, after 15 minutes of blowing off steam, the next chapter begins. They behave as if nothing ever happened and don't carry the stress forward or let it build into something dangerous. I sometimes stand in awe of that gift.

The challenge is figuring out how to move from "mean voice" to "calm voice" and still let our genuine emotions take shape. Perhaps like Tanya did in the car, we should fake it to initiate the change and trust that things will improve. By getting the kids to forget about the stress, Tanya managed to trick herself and eventually moved on, even if her happiness wasn’t sincere at that moment. She had more to worry about than just herself.


Moral of the story? We have many available voices. If you use the mean one, make sure you put it back.

Expectations

My mother-in-law, Gloria, volunteers at a local elementary school, helping second graders with reading and writing skills. Last week, one of her students was acting hyper. Gloria told him it was time to concentrate and do his work. The boy looked her in the eye and said, "Look Lady, I'm only seven. What do you expect?"

If we don't expect great things, we'll never achieve them. If we set the bar too high, we might make ourselves too anxious. Somewhere in the middle is a balance for each individual. When it comes to kids, I wonder:
What is the best way to manage expectations in order to achieve success?

We constantly set expectations to guide us through challenges and to help us achieve our goals, no matter how big or small. For some, these serve as a stimulus to work hard. For others, they create more stress than is healthy.

In America, where ingenuity and achievement are highly valued, highly motivated achievers are common. No activity is too difficult and no challenge too daunting. Failure is not feared but a necessary obstacle on the road to success.

On the other side, there are those who are comfortable with lower levels of risk and, by extension, reward. While they don't aim for the grand outcomes, like being a billionaire or winning a Super Bowl, they probably end up with fewer failures. Both types of people are similar in that they set their expectations based on what feels comfortable.

Adults have earned the right to choose their paths. Young children need to be given firm guidelines of what is expected of them before they can be free to set their own goals. Since self-discovery is an ongoing process, the learning curve is steep for youngsters. With an early start and ample room for error, the future is ripe with possibilities. As the ones entrusted with guidance for our little animals, we need to teach them to set appropriate expectations.

It's important to understand that the learning isn't limited to children. We parents also need to know what they expect of us. Indeed, at times I've set my expectations too high or too low. I've learned from my mistakes and hopefully have adjusted accordingly. I trust my family to guide me through my children's formative years because things change quickly.

In my brief parenting career, I think I've learned as much as my kids have. Before Ella was born 8 years ago, I had no idea about things like how much kids ate, how long they slept and how far they hiked before whining. Now, as I'm 5 years into the second child, I'm more comfortable with the failures and mistakes, and I've embraced the inevitable change. In fact, I expect it.

Gloria told me the boy in her class finally settled down and did his work, and he learned an important lesson about expectations that will stick with him. Not even seven-year-olds get a free pass.

How much information is enough? Or too much?

Last week, Sophia and I were talking about love and marriage. Here's how the conversation went with my 5-year-old:

"Dad, did you have other girlfriends before mom?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you marry them?"

"Because I loved mom the most."

She paused. "Did you kiss your other girlfriends?"

"Yes."

"On the cheek or the lips?"

I immediately thought of adolescence and dating and boyfriends and got way ahead of myself. Sophia's earnest interest in my life before I married Tanya and had two kids got me thinking: Is it necessary for our young children to know all the embarrassing details of our lives before they arrived? Is that information helpful?

Contrary to what children tend to think, our lives began long before we were parents. We had other relationships and made many choices, some better than others. And although it might be hard for our kids to believe (except for those rebellious teenagers), we weren't always paragons of righteousness.

Everything we've done to this point has helped create and mold who we are as people and as parents. Our past experiences - even some of the things of which we're not proud - should serve as valuable teaching moments. We learn more from our mistakes than from our successes.

My goal is not to steer Sophia and Ella, her 8-year-old sister, away from conflict. I want to give them insight into how their inevitable challenges can help instead of harm them. Cautionary tales seem like a good option, at least now.

I'm not proud of everything I've done in the past, but my identity as a person (and all that has contributed to it to this point) shouldn't comprise my value as a parent. I maintain relationships with friends and coworkers and have varied interests. Even if these don't always mingle with my family life, they continue to influence me.

Tanya and I dated other people before we found each other, and neither of us is embarrassed to tell our children. Because of dating experiences in the past, I learned how to stand up for myself, when to argue and when to agree. Most importantly, I learned what I wanted in a mate, and what I didn't. And everything seems to have worked out well.

My daughters' inquisitiveness leads me to believe that we aren't meant to take on life's journey alone.
When Sophia took an interest in the decision processes that have led me to this point, I realized something: parents are the first line of defense against egregious mistakes, but also are the gatekeepers of freedom to learn. When our kids ask us tough questions, they crave the tough answers. If we choose to not engage their embarrassing questions, we may be doing our little animals a disservice for the long run.

I finally told Sophia that, yes, I kissed my old girlfriends on the lips. Predictably, "Ewww" was her reply. We laughed and I changed the subject. I didn't want to divulge any more.

Reading Minds

Last week, my wife, Tanya, read a story to our daughter, Sophia, and her cousin, Samantha. One line in the book made a reference to knowing what a person is thinking. Samantha, who is 5 years old like Sophia, said, "I can read my mom's mind."

"Really?" my wife said.

"Yes. I always know what she's thinking even when we're not together. I know she's thinking about how much she loves me."

We often think of mind reading as an esoteric phenomenon, like it's something only psychics can do. But we all do it every day. Unconscious behaviors and body language convey valuable information in the absence of words, and kids are expert decoders. Samantha's comment made me wonder how attuned our children are to our emotions, no matter what or how much we say. Can we trust that our kids will decipher our true intentions regardless of our words?

I think most young children are like my niece: little balls of instinct and intuition. They are unburdened by preconceived notions and cultural biases, things that typically anchor adults. They sense our sincerity (or lack thereof) and let us know how it affects them, positively and negatively.

We don't spend our days discussing how we feel about each other and what we can do to ensure everyone is satisfied. Yet, we still manage to wake up most days confident and secure in our relationships. Why? Because of the multitude of unspoken hints like random hugs, concerned looks and the simple act of spending time together. This is especially true in the nuclear family setting, where parents and children spend an inordinate amount of time together on a regular basis.

As far as Samantha was concerned, her mother, Jennifer, was always thinking about how much she loves her. While that might be true to an extent, Jennifer also has adult issues to deal with on a regular basis. When she's at work trying to meet deadlines and finish important tasks, she's probably not daydreaming about how much she loves her daughter. Yet somewhere along the way, Samantha picked up on her mother's unconscious behaviors - loving and heartfelt, no doubt - and that's what stuck in her mind.

All parents and children deal with their share of conflict and stress, from work to school and everything in between. We all, at various times, express feelings (verbal and nonverbal) that are less than loving. But as long as the majority of our behavior demonstrates the safety and comfort that our kids expect and deserve, we barely need words at all. And since children learn most of what they know from us, we need to demonstrate what we hope for them to learn.

Tanya was intrigued by Samantha's confidence. "How do you know that your mommy is always thinking about how much she loves you?"

Samantha thought for a moment and, eyes still focused on the book in front of her, replied, "I just know it. Every day."

Enough said.

The Power of Language

A few weeks ago, Sophia and Ella asked if I could make them a Caesar salad. I told them I'd have to buy all the ingredients. Sophia, my kindergartner, said, "Don't forget the futons!"

When I corrected her, she said, "Dad, I know how to say crouton, I just like calling them futons."

"You can say anything you want," I replied.

"Well, except bad words."

Sophia's comment made me think about how our language affects others, especially our children. We try to avoid cursing when the kids are around, but sometimes it happens anyway. We strive to be polite but don't always succeed. When I slip up, my kids are quick to point it out to me. Do I, as the parent, have to explain myself? Should we isolate our kids from foul language at every turn?

The FCC considers seven words (you can probably guess what they are) as inappropriate to say on the radio. Of course, there are innumerable offensive things that can be said in various contexts. Most people agree on what shouldn't be said in front of kids, but cultures and customs differ. What might be offensive to one might not be to another.

Sophia and Ella, her 8-year-old sister, know that my wife and I are not fond of the words "hate" and "stupid," yet I admit to saying them every now and then. My daughters are diligent in pointing out these instances as if they were the parents. I don't like being corrected by my kids, but I, too, have to be accountable.

Out in the community, it's harder to monitor what our little ones are exposed to. Children often overhear their parents' interactions with their peers and conversations between adult strangers, two situations where language that is inappropriate for children can pervade. Yes, we are the role models, and we should be mindful if kids are around. I'm in favor of being careful, but hearing a curse word here and there isn't necessarily going to turn our kids into potty-mouthed sailors. If they happen to be exposed to inappropriate language, we should at least educate them on how to choose for themselves.

Eventually, my daughters will be adults. They'll hear and see offensive words and sights and will most likely utter a bad word or two themselves (maybe even in my direction). At some point, they will probably offend someone and be reprimanded for it. Hopefully, they'll learn from those experiences. I hope they won't be judged solely on the occasional slip-up because we all have them.

When Ella and Sophia were younger, I was very vigilant about what I said. I'm still careful about it, but not obsessive. Bad words slip out every now and then, mostly when I smash my thumb with a hammer or break a glass, which happens quite frequently. It's important to be polite, I tell them, but language has only as much power as we provide it.

It takes a village: or at least, an Ass-Kicker

During one of our summer rainy spells, my kids were trapped indoors for a day. They whined about having nothing to do and were frankly getting on my nerves. My wife, Tanya, took matters into her own hands.

A few minutes later, I climbed the stairs to find Ella, who's 8, and Sophia, our 5-year-old, wearing tank tops and tight yoga pants and jumping around gleefully in front of the television. I immediately recognized the familiar voice of one of the personal trainers from the television show "The Biggest Loser."

"Dad," Ella said, "We're doing Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred DVD. It's awesome."

Sophia said, "Yeah, we're going to have abs and get ripped like Jillian."

Jillian Michaels, a woman I have never met, managed to entertain and educate my kids when I was simply not in the mood. While I'm a far cry from being a neglectful parent, I realized we had subcontracted out our parental duties to a television set. The girls had fun and they got some much needed exercise, but still I wondered: Why do parents often feel guilty when they need help caring for their children?

When a child is born, parents inherit a unique level of responsibility. The child's survival needs become the priority at the expense of almost everything else. From emotional support to diaper changes to preventing injury, these tasks can be overwhelming.

In today's society, child-rearing support is not a luxury but a necessity. It can be frightening, but we need to learn to trust others with our kids. We expect that in our absence our children will be treated respectfully. Family, friends, babysitters and teachers can and do provide invaluable assistance with education, social skills and entertainment; things parents can't do 24/7.

One bad experience can taint a parent's view of a particular fill-in, and sometimes this is justified. But the reality remains that when we work, have a date with our spouse or take some time for ourselves, someone else needs to be in charge of our most precious resource. Part of our growth as parents is figuring out when to feed the rope and when to tug on it.

When we get stressed from the quotidian rigors of family life, our children won't suffer if our replacement is reasonable. In fact, they may thrive.

Kids need breaks from their parents just as we need breaks from them. New voices sometimes make the best teachers.

Tying shoes? I didn't teach them. Potty training? Tanya and I thank the daily routine and patience of our fabulous day care providers. Ella's second-grade teacher even taught me a few lessons about responsibility.

I don't condone strapping the little ones to the couch for three hours just because we're annoyed with them. But benefits can be found in unlikely sources. Tanya and I have always stressed the importance of health and fitness, yet it was Jillian Michaels who made it click.