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.