Don't take your kids to Vegas. I'm begging you.
On monday two buddies and I took our second annual 24-hour trip to the World Capital of Waste and Excess. We gambled and drank and basically insulted each other for about a day, came back to our pedestrian lives with lighter pockets and hilarious memories. No one ended up in jail, or stuck on the roof of Caesar's or with a balance of less than $100 in a retirement account. In other words, we're Sin City lightweights.
As with any tourist destination, crowds are inevitable. Thousands of people, all shapes and sizes and colors populate the streets and casinos, restaurants and bars. Good for the economy, I get it. But I was aghast at how many children I saw walking up and down Las Vegas Boulevard and around hotel lobbies. This is America, you say, and you have a right to take your kids anywhere you want, right?
I totally agree, if you don't mind your 4-year-old (or worse: pre-teens) exposed to driving billboards with pictures of 90% naked women advertising "Hot Babes Direct to You." Or those annoying street guys snapping cards with pictures and phone numbers of escorts who are just dying to meet you. Or people sauntering up and down the sidewalks uttering the F-word every 5 seconds. (Oh wait a minute, that might have been us. My bad.)
The only way it would be at all appropriate to take your kids to Vegas would be to immediately get a cab from the airport to a hotel off the strip and stay there without ever leaving the room, unless its to go the pool, and even that's not a good idea. In Vegas a woman's bathing suit is likely to contain less material than a hair tie. (Free advice: stay far, far away from the Hard Rock Hotel. Trust me.) Get a 3-bedroom suite at the Westin. Eat only via room service. Have them wear their iPods non-stop. Go on a Monday and Tuesday in November. No shows, no gambling, no restaurants, no walking outdoors, no TV, no reading pamphlets.
Or save for a year, leave the kids at home, and relive the good old days.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Privacy
Published January 23, 2011 in the Coloradoan. Got some hate mail for this one.
Ella got a Taylor Swift CD for Christmas. Tanya immediately made a copy in preparation for the usual property destruction that occurs with our kids. Last week, after I inserted the copy into the car CD player, Ella asked where I got it.
“Mom must have burned it from your original.” I thought my answer was innocuous.
“You mean mom took my CD without asking me?”
“Yeeeaaaah,” I said, drawing out my answer long enough to think of a way to cover for my well-intentioned wife. “I guess she figured you wouldn’t mind.”
Parents of young children are responsible for ensuring kids’ safety and supervising their choices. As such, we need freedom to see things like what websites they’re visiting and what (or whom) is hiding in their room. But every human, regardless of age, should have the same rights as everyone else. Where, then, do we draw the line between parental authority and respecting the privacy of minors?
It’s illegal and unethical to open someone else’s mail, enter someone’s house without an invitation, or search someone’s hard drive without consent. However, if I suspected my 7-year-old, or for that matter, my 4-year-old, was involved with guns or drugs or other unsafe endeavors, I would not hesitate to invade their privacy. It’s my parental responsibility. Right?
Maybe not. I’ll bet you didn’t know that according to article 16 in the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, “no child shall be subjected to arbitrary or unlawful interference with his or her privacy, family, home or correspondence.”
Brigham Young University law professor Richard Wilkins warns that Article 16 “has the potential to place the basic ability to discipline and monitor children...into serious doubt.” Indeed, most of us would agree to circumvent this provision if our child was in danger. I dug deeper and, thankfully, found that Article 5 of the same document recognizes the “protection and care as necessary for (a child’s) well-being, taking into account the rights and duties of his or her parents.” At least as far as the UN is concerned, parents can still be parents. But the nuances of the UN document make clear the parent’s conundrum when it comes to privacy for minors. The line between respect and cluelessness can be dangerously thin.
Tanya and I may be legally allowed to enter Ella’s room for the vague purposes of protecting her and promoting her well-being, but borrowing her things doesn’t fit into that category. Though it might sound like a minor issue now, adolescence is around the corner, and teenagers are notorious for clandestine activity. We want her to trust us when the stakes are higher.
Ella wasn’t too upset but she did clarify her stance. “It’s okay that mom borrowed my CD. But she should have asked.”
Agreed. Rules apply not only to those who are required to follow them, but to those who make them as well.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
The Sticker Board
Since the first few days of instituting the Sticker Board, Ella and Sophia have responded resoundingly to colored, star-shaped stickers and the promise of prizes. They pick their colors at the outset, and as you can see, they don't get stickers every day; only when they behave consistently well. That includes doing what they are asked to do (without a dozen reminders or whining about it), volunteering for chores, and being thoughtful and considerate of others, to name a few. Once they receive 10 stickers, they get to pick their own prize. At 20, they get to pick an even bigger one, a prize that cements my theory that females are born with one unassailable trait: a need to shop.
They get to pick out a pair of new shoes.
Tanya did a lot of research on the subject of positive reinforcement and found that having children pick their own punishments and rewards leads to better compliance. And the girls have really responded so I'm on board.
I might ask Tanya if I, too, can get prizes for good behavior. And I get to pick my own prize.
I assure you, it won't involve shopping.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Live in the Moment--It's What You've Got
Originally published September 13, 2009.
Sophia takes her mother's lipstick and is poised to paint herself like the Joker.
When ask my 3-year-old for her mother's makeup back in my calm, let-her-feel-like-she-has-control approach, Sophia shakes her head and says, "It's mine because I got it." I wait patiently because there's only so much screaming a guy can handle.
I envy Sophia's sense of impunity. It's unimportant whether she even needs what she has taken. She is focused on the event, the glory of choosing an activity without condition and not the object itself.
I think about all the decisions I will have to make in the near future--when to balance the checkbook, what to make for dinner, how to occupy the kids on the next rainy day--and I realize that if I thought less and acted more, my life would be simpler.
After watching my kids interact blithely in a world that favors caution over cheerfulness and labor over leisure, I recall the happiness that once came with ignorance. Sometimes, I long for the days of fewer responsibilities and more freedom. There was a time when we all were engaged in the moment and not worried about what could go wrong. That time always lies in front of us, if we choose to look for it.
When my kids say, "I want to go swimming," they mean now, not after the laundry is folded. When I say, "We should take the kids on a hike," I mean next week or let's check the calendar. There's always something more important to do. My children remind me daily that they don't care.
To paraphrase Buddha: The secret of health is not to mourn for the past or worry about the future but to live earnestly in the present moment.
Buddha must have been a preschooler.
Sophia grins at the tube in her grasp--it is hers now--and I concede to the de facto queen of our house. She will do anything in her power to keep the illicit lipstick safely in her stubby little sausages. Tanya suggests that we would be wise to pick our battles and let her explore safely. Getting the lipstick back is not a life-and-death situation.
Sophia has achieved her goal and is invested in keeping the lipstick equally for herself and away from everyone else. By watching her steely eyes and unwavering resolve, I learn that if we desire something, we need to take it. Once we have made the effort and collected what we know we deserve, we must own it and savor it.
While I don't condone theft or any other form of lawlessness, there is a point at which we must feel comfortable chasing our dreams without fear of failure or the judgments of outsiders.
Sure enough, within five minutes, graffiti-faced Sophia leaves our room, giggling with her sister, and the lipstick rolls to a stop under our bed. I look at Tanya and we share a laugh. This moment is ours because we got it.
Sophia takes her mother's lipstick and is poised to paint herself like the Joker.
When ask my 3-year-old for her mother's makeup back in my calm, let-her-feel-like-she-has-control approach, Sophia shakes her head and says, "It's mine because I got it." I wait patiently because there's only so much screaming a guy can handle.
I envy Sophia's sense of impunity. It's unimportant whether she even needs what she has taken. She is focused on the event, the glory of choosing an activity without condition and not the object itself.
I think about all the decisions I will have to make in the near future--when to balance the checkbook, what to make for dinner, how to occupy the kids on the next rainy day--and I realize that if I thought less and acted more, my life would be simpler.
After watching my kids interact blithely in a world that favors caution over cheerfulness and labor over leisure, I recall the happiness that once came with ignorance. Sometimes, I long for the days of fewer responsibilities and more freedom. There was a time when we all were engaged in the moment and not worried about what could go wrong. That time always lies in front of us, if we choose to look for it.
When my kids say, "I want to go swimming," they mean now, not after the laundry is folded. When I say, "We should take the kids on a hike," I mean next week or let's check the calendar. There's always something more important to do. My children remind me daily that they don't care.
To paraphrase Buddha: The secret of health is not to mourn for the past or worry about the future but to live earnestly in the present moment.
Buddha must have been a preschooler.
Sophia grins at the tube in her grasp--it is hers now--and I concede to the de facto queen of our house. She will do anything in her power to keep the illicit lipstick safely in her stubby little sausages. Tanya suggests that we would be wise to pick our battles and let her explore safely. Getting the lipstick back is not a life-and-death situation.
Sophia has achieved her goal and is invested in keeping the lipstick equally for herself and away from everyone else. By watching her steely eyes and unwavering resolve, I learn that if we desire something, we need to take it. Once we have made the effort and collected what we know we deserve, we must own it and savor it.
While I don't condone theft or any other form of lawlessness, there is a point at which we must feel comfortable chasing our dreams without fear of failure or the judgments of outsiders.
Sure enough, within five minutes, graffiti-faced Sophia leaves our room, giggling with her sister, and the lipstick rolls to a stop under our bed. I look at Tanya and we share a laugh. This moment is ours because we got it.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Wee Wisdom--From the Top
I have been writing a column for the Fort Collins Coloradoan every other sunday since August 2009. This regular gig represented my first published work as a real "Writer." The column has allowed me to do several things. First, it gives me a platform from which to express my feelings on the challenging and rewarding job of parenting. Second, I have forced myself to keep a record of my daughters' progress through life. My wife, Tanya, and I will surely appreciate this in a couple of decades. The kids, maybe not so much. Third, the regular deadline requires me to write even when I may not want to. This has helped me become a more attentive and creative writer in my fiction as well, which is my true passion.
Tanya has been prodding me to extend the range of my column to more than just the readership of the Coloradoan. She thinks my insights are valid enough to be welcomed by more than the handful of people who read it now. I have resisted (writers are notoriously fearful of people actually reading their work) but I'm finally doing what every good husband should do: I'm following my wife's advice.
I've decided to post my columns on The Colorado Writer. I will post one regularly in the form of a blog, and I will post the link on my Facebook page for, hopefully, better exposure.
Who knows.
Here's the pilot column, originally printed August 30, 2009. Enjoy.
Youngsters Utterances are Worth a Listen
Write it down or you'll forget it.
That was the first piece of parenting advice I got from my mother. It came even before Ella, now 6 years old, was born. As with every other piece of unsolicited advice from my parents in the past 35 years, I nodded and pretended to hear it.
After all, who really listens to their mother?
Once Ella began speaking and quickly became more eloquent, the comincal phrases flew at us like advice from a nosy in-law. My wife and I never had pen and paper when we needed them. We'd lie in bed, exhausted from full-time work followed by hours of chasing and cleanups and crying. We'd laugh at our daughter's unintentional genuis and fall asleep without writing anything down.
Every few months, we wrote down in the baby book what we could remember from the black hole of our minds known as the first 2 years. We cursed ourselves for not following (all together now: "I told you so") my mother's sage advice. When we found out my wife, Tanya, was pregnant with Sophia, now witty and dynamic at 3 and a half, we promised we would be diligent in our data recording. We didn't want to hear it from you-know-who.
My mother can belabor a point with the best of them.
Six years later, I still can't say I've transcribed every clever turn of phrase, every grammatically incorrect utterance or every public embarrassment. Nor do I claim the title of most organized parent. I have realized, however, that unrecorded memories fade fast.
Over the past few months, I assiduously compiled a list of the timely and amusing things my kids said. After Tanya and I looked them over and were brought to tears with laughter, I realized they were more than just cute. These pearls provided lessons, for life in general and parenting in specific.
So I decided to write this column, "Wee Wisdom," with the intention of not only entertaining but encouraging us all to do what I failed to do six years ago: listen.
The future of the world is in our children's hands. If we pay attention to them instead of dismissing their brilliance as trite (admit it: we are all guilty) we may yet achieve what seems impossible. It is our responsibility to encourage and applaud their expression and their ideas. Surely we can learn something from those we are entrusted to teach.
I am fortunate to have a schedule that allows me more time to spend with my kids than the average dad. I care about children. I am proud to share my life with you.
Tanya has been prodding me to extend the range of my column to more than just the readership of the Coloradoan. She thinks my insights are valid enough to be welcomed by more than the handful of people who read it now. I have resisted (writers are notoriously fearful of people actually reading their work) but I'm finally doing what every good husband should do: I'm following my wife's advice.
I've decided to post my columns on The Colorado Writer. I will post one regularly in the form of a blog, and I will post the link on my Facebook page for, hopefully, better exposure.
Who knows.
Here's the pilot column, originally printed August 30, 2009. Enjoy.
Youngsters Utterances are Worth a Listen
Write it down or you'll forget it.
That was the first piece of parenting advice I got from my mother. It came even before Ella, now 6 years old, was born. As with every other piece of unsolicited advice from my parents in the past 35 years, I nodded and pretended to hear it.
After all, who really listens to their mother?
Once Ella began speaking and quickly became more eloquent, the comincal phrases flew at us like advice from a nosy in-law. My wife and I never had pen and paper when we needed them. We'd lie in bed, exhausted from full-time work followed by hours of chasing and cleanups and crying. We'd laugh at our daughter's unintentional genuis and fall asleep without writing anything down.
Every few months, we wrote down in the baby book what we could remember from the black hole of our minds known as the first 2 years. We cursed ourselves for not following (all together now: "I told you so") my mother's sage advice. When we found out my wife, Tanya, was pregnant with Sophia, now witty and dynamic at 3 and a half, we promised we would be diligent in our data recording. We didn't want to hear it from you-know-who.
My mother can belabor a point with the best of them.
Six years later, I still can't say I've transcribed every clever turn of phrase, every grammatically incorrect utterance or every public embarrassment. Nor do I claim the title of most organized parent. I have realized, however, that unrecorded memories fade fast.
Over the past few months, I assiduously compiled a list of the timely and amusing things my kids said. After Tanya and I looked them over and were brought to tears with laughter, I realized they were more than just cute. These pearls provided lessons, for life in general and parenting in specific.
So I decided to write this column, "Wee Wisdom," with the intention of not only entertaining but encouraging us all to do what I failed to do six years ago: listen.
The future of the world is in our children's hands. If we pay attention to them instead of dismissing their brilliance as trite (admit it: we are all guilty) we may yet achieve what seems impossible. It is our responsibility to encourage and applaud their expression and their ideas. Surely we can learn something from those we are entrusted to teach.
I am fortunate to have a schedule that allows me more time to spend with my kids than the average dad. I care about children. I am proud to share my life with you.
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