Off With the News

Last Friday night, Tanya was watching the news about the incomprehensible events at Sandy Hook elementary school in Newtown, Conn. Ella came in unannounced and asked what had happened. Trying to keep it as appropriate as possible for a 9-year-old, Tanya told her a very ill man entered a school and killed a lot of people. Ella was sad.

Sophia, Ella’s 6-year-old sister, was more concerned about her own safety. “Connecticut’s far from here, right? He’s not coming here, is he?” she asked. Tanya continually reassured Sophia that the man was dead and her school was safe.

The massacre in Newtown has weighed on my mind since it happened. After learning more, and while suppressing tears and rage, I wished I hadn’t heard about it. Now I wonder: When it comes to senseless tragedies like this one, are we better off not knowing?

I’m not naive. Negative emotions are part of life and necessary for a healthy psychology. Supporting our fellow humans is a vital component of healing. I also understand the need to be informed. Our reactions to painful and unsettling events often lead to great societal change, like abolishing slavery and curbing hate crimes, for example. The particularly unsavory nature of this case can help us address our society’s glaring lack of mental health care, and perhaps effect better gun control laws.

Still, I find this pill harder to swallow. I want my kids to experience the joys and tribulations of growing up, and that includes attending school. Getting an education should be stimulating and exciting, not fraught with fear and vigilance. It’s neither practical nor conducive to a positive academic experience to navigate metal detectors, gates and security guards to reach the classroom. It’s not beneficial to fear a place you go every day.

Newtown, Conn., after all, is not exactly famous for a high level of crime. The same goes for Littleton, Blacksburg, Montreal and Omaha, all of which are among the list of cities where similar atrocities have occurred. The fact that a list exists at all — and believe me, it’s long — is disturbing enough.

Being inundated with coverage of this and other massacres doesn’t improve my life. I grieve for the victims and their families, but knowing about this incident breeds fear and instills rage, both of which impair my ability to think clearly.

Sadly, I admit that even the possibility of this happening to Ella and Sophia was enough to make me consider moving. Unfortunately, comparable events have happened in China, France, Germany and South Africa, among other nations. Disturbed people live everywhere. Running away won’t make me safer, and the media is unavoidable.

I can, however, always choose my perspective.

My best defense against terror is to love and nurture my kids, teach them to reach out to others, and seek the positive. Tragedy will happen again, but I stand firm in my belief that 99 percent of all humans on this planet are good, and always will be.

This holiday season, I’m turning off the news.

Wee Wisdom: Let it Flow, Let it Flow, Let it Flow...

Ella practices her spelling homework by copying every word on the list in cursive.

“Isn’t it pretty?” she said last week, flaunting her work. “It’s important to know how to sign your name on checks.”

I had recently read an article about how most American schools were phasing out cursive writing instruction.

“Some people feel that learning cursive isn’t as important as it used to be,” I said.

“You better believe it’s important!” she exclaimed.

Ella’s nostalgic view of handwriting may soon make her an endangered species. Colorado is among the 45 states whose schools have adopted the Common Core State Standards, which has dropped formal cursive writing instruction from its curriculum in favor of topics it considers more relevant in today’s world. Like it or not, of the current crop of American children many may never learn the art of reading or writing in continuous, flowing script.

What does this mean?

According to the Common Core website (www.corestandards.org), it’s curriculum is designed to help children become “college and career ready” in literacy, math and sciences. It’s mission statement defends the standards as being “robust and relevant to the real world.”

The bottom line is our dependence on technology is leading us further away from the handwriting skills that have helped develop human communication for thousands of years. It’s still too early to tell if we’re committing a mistake.

Many in the education community tout the benefits of cursive writing instruction. Motor skill development, improving literacy and communication, and the ability to efficiently transfer one’s thoughts to paper make penmanship skills a vital component of intellectual growth.

The ubiquity of tablets and smartphones has magnified our need for technological mastery. Online banking and electronic signatures may eventually make signing one’s name superfluous. But my instincts tell me that texting, voice-activated word processing programs and sliding fingers on screens do more to hinder literacy than improve it. From thank-you cards to love notes to journaling, our ability to transfer thoughts to paper transcends practicality. It defines us.

Handwriting means more than simply words on a paper: It’s a testament to character, a window into a personality. Imagine if the Declaration of Independence or Anne Frank’s diary had been typed.

Mr. Sean Gorman, Ella’s school principal, acknowledges the dilemma facing educators today. He told me that his teachers are welcome to incorporate cursive handwriting into all facets of their lessons, providing they meet school curriculum standards.

Ella’s teacher, Mrs. Elaine Rankin, does the best with the time she has. She writes the “word of the day” in cursive every morning on the board, has her students write their spelling words and sign their names in cursive. At the very least, she wants her students to be able to read it.

But for Mrs. Rankin and many others, the challenge is daunting.

“If I could guarantee all my students got support at home, my job would be a lot easier,” she says.

If Ella starts a petition to keep teaching cursive in schools, I’ll sign it.

By hand.

New Adventures Need to be Nurtured

Earlier this year, Sophia had a play date on a Sunday with her friend Megan. Megan’s family normally goes to church so Sophia went with them. The kids played in the youth section, but at one point Sophia lost sight of her friend and became nervous; she didn’t know any other kids.

Last week, my wife Tanya had mentioned a desire to take the kids to church every now and again as she missed the spirituality and sense of community. Sophia was not interested.

“I thought you had fun the last time you went,” I said. “Didn’t you play with other kids?”

“No, it wasn’t fun at all. I couldn’t find Megan!” Sophia replied.

After hearing Sophia’s reasoning — nothing to do with the church experience itself — I wondered: How do we convince our children to do things they don’t want to do, but we know might benefit them?

Religious services or, for that matter, extracurricular activities in general, aren’t necessary for survival. They can, however, be beneficial to a child’s development. It’s not always easy to convince a child of the long term benefits of what we have planned for him or her. It takes patience, creativity and sometimes, trickery.

Depending on the situation, we coerce, cajole, convince, compromise, or bargain to get our kids to do what we tell them is best. When diplomacy doesn’t work, we’re left with good old fashioned dictatorship. All of those methods have their place, but choosing the most appropriate one takes practice. And failure is inevitable.

None of us is born with a clear understanding of our emotional needs. (I’m still figuring mine out.) From emotional or physical discomfort, to feeling unsafe, to a fear of the unknown, young children especially are subject to numerous factors that can make novel experiences harrowing. Also, 6-year-olds like Sophia tend to form opinions quickly, which are often based on one experience.

When choosing our plan of attack, it’s important to remember that even though we assume we know best, kids are sometimes smarter than we think. I’ve been surprised by their insight on many occasions. Still, parents are in charge for a reason. Experience matters, and children crave guidance.

Behavioral manipulation is a parental staple, but we need to be prepared to accept the consequences of our actions. Give in too soon, and our kids might miss out on valuable development opportunities. Push too hard, and we risk losing their trust. Either way, adolescence and adulthood have ways of magnifying issues that start years earlier.

Life provides many adventures that, if based on the first go around, many of us would not repeat. That initial session with the personal trainer, trying Brussels sprouts, or public speaking engagements come to mind. Even adults can require convincing.

My first grader and her older sister, Ella, need help to develop their spiritual, intellectual and emotional faculties, and new experiences are a good place to start. Sometimes kids are beyond convincing, but the discussion might end up being as important as the activity itself.

How Good Do You Have It? Only Time Will Tell...

Last week while grocery shopping, I painstakingly checked the ingredients on just about every box in the cereal aisle. After much deliberation, I compromised with lightly sweetened multi-grain Cheerios. They had at least two times less sugar than many other brands but were still tasty.

The moment of truth came the next morning. “Dad, these don’t taste very good,” Ella said. “I don’t want them.”

Sophia, Ella’s 6-year-old sister, was less polite. “Eewww! These are awful!” she exclaimed in typical excessive fashion.

I explained to my daughters the dangers of eating too much sugar, especially early in the school day, when crashing an hour later wasn’t an option. I told them it was a reasonable compromise between tasteless and toothless. When they held firm in their boycott, I pulled out the “some-kids-are-so-poor-they-don’t-even-get-breakfast” card. Those kids, I said gravely, would not complain.

I want Ella and Sophia to understand the struggles of others so they can better appreciate what they have. With Thanksgiving around the corner, I wondered: Is it possible for 9- and 6-year-olds to grasp the concepts of hunger and poverty without seeing them firsthand?

Tanya and I are aware of our good fortune. Like many in our generous community, we try to impress this on our children by demonstrating acts of charity and by showing gratitude. But young children assume that what happens in their homes is normal. They aren’t born understanding how demoralizing poverty can be. And no matter how much we explain the horrors of going to bed hungry, surviving a Colorado winter without heat or wearing the same clothes every day, I fear that my children won’t really get it until they see it for themselves.

Throughout my childhood, I was always well-protected and provided for by loving, capable parents. I suppose I knew I was lucky, but I didn’t grasp the degree of my good fortune until I was on my own. Through the combination of work, travel, where I chose to live and what I did with my time — not lectures and explanations — I learned that not everyone is born with same chance to succeed and there will always be people who need help. I’m not sure I would have understood it any other way.

Having no doubts about where your next meal comes from is a privilege that eludes many children. I want my daughters to understand their advantages, as well as the tenuous and relative natures of success. I also don’t want them to feel guilty for having what they need; they shouldn’t feel bad for being comfortable. If anyone is culpable for their circumstances, it’s Tanya and me.

After my sermon, I told the girls they needed to finish their bowls or make their own breakfast. Ella finished her portion. Sophia grudgingly ate half of hers after supplementing with a tortilla with peanut butter. Both were quiet. They knew I was upset. But maybe I was the one who learned a lesson.

Breaking Rules

This summer while vacationing in Winter Park, my wife Tanya took Ella to a concert. The show finished at around 10 at night and they had to walk the quarter-mile walk back to the condo in the dark. Tanya decided to cut through someone’s yard, past a sign that warned against it.

“Mom, I’m confused,” Ella said. “At home I have to follow the rules but in Winter Park I don’t?”

After Tanya put Ella to bed and told me what our 9-year-old had said, I wondered: Are there times when it’s OK for parents to break the rules? If so, are we negatively impacting our children?

Like most parents, Tanya and I enforce certain behavioral requirements in our home. No physical violence, clean up your own mess and be kind to others. These guidelines form the basis for life skills like responsibility, healthy living and staying out of prison. But rules in general can be tricky: They’re hard to follow 100 percent of the time, hard to enforce and sometimes they don’t make much sense.

Tanya and Ella didn’t need to cut through the private yard, but Tanya was alone with her exhausted fourth-grader in complete darkness in an unfamiliar place and trusted her instincts. Breaking the rule wasn’t necessary; they got home safely, and no one’s property was destroyed. This one situation surely won’t affect Ella’s morality, even if they smudged the line between right and wrong.

Had they gotten caught in the act of trespassing, I suppose I might look at this situation differently. Maybe Ella would, in the future, be less likely to flaunt the lack of enforcement of some common societal rules, regardless of whether we OK it. I suspect Tanya would think twice, as well, but probably not to the same extent.

Some might say that a lifetime of rule breaking starts with one instance. And for some situations, like doing drugs or theft, I would agree. But we also need to be practical. While a parent’s main role is to set a positive example, that doesn’t always happen.

I’m generally an excellent rule follower, yet when I jaywalk or run into a store to use a bathroom clearly marked “Restroom for Customers Only” and don’t get caught, the lack of vigilant enforcement leads me to feel like I can do it again.

But I don’t.

That’s because a moral compass is both subjective and situational. The challenge for parents is to teach these principles while modeling them, yet somehow live our lives as the flawed beings we are. Maybe parents and children should get caught breaking rules together — to teach both parties a lesson.

Indeed, history has taught us that sometimes breaking rules can lead us forward. Galileo broke from tradition to support the solar system model we know today to be true. Rosa Parks knew that sitting in the front of the bus was her right, rules be damned. I would be proud if my child did something similar.

Surprise!

"Everybody up, we're going on an adventure."

Those were Tanya's words last Wednesday morning, October 17, at 5:45am. The kids got dressed and hustled into the car as ordered. They worked on solving their word puzzle—Sophia cried a little because it was hard for her and also because she couldn't find her shoes—but they finally solved it.




Boarding passes to San Diego in the seat pockets in front of them. And off we went!

Spent 4 nights in San Diego in a great deal of a 1 bedroom condo literally steps from the beach, SeaWorld, bike riding down to Mission Beach, lots of stops for ice cream, boogie boarding, surfing...tons of family fun. I highly recommend San Diego as a family destination. Easy to get around, took the bus and trolley (which was not only way cheaper than renting an unneeded car, but also more fun) everywhere that was too far to walk.



All in all, the trip was great family bonding time, saw some sights, and learned about getting around in a new city. My only fear is that we might have set a precedent.

Beaching it!

Ella, Tanya and Sophia

Sandy girls

Where to go next year...

Kids and Politics...What The...?

Two hours before the first presidential debate, I tried to educate my daughters on what the event was about. President Obama and Governor Romney would answer questions from a moderator, but essentially, they would argue with each other for 90 minutes. Here are the finer points of our discussion:

Ella, my fourth grader, thought the men should just be friends.

Sophia, who’s 6, disagreed. “I would love to see them argue and yell at each other!” she said, and punctuated her comment by the type of screaming she presumed would ensue in the battle.

Ella then changed her tune. “Maybe they’ll start wrestling!” she yelled. When I told her that would be unlikely, she agreed. “Yeah, they’ll be in their business suits.”

After a good laugh, I wondered if parents should engage their young children in discussions about politics. If the answer is yes, what’s the best way to do it?

Love it or hate it, politics affects us all. From the economy to social issues to foreign policy, we put our faith in the hands of our elected leaders, with the hope that they will represent our interests. We don’t always agree with what they say or do, but we’re free to voice our opinions.

Adults have the benefits of life experience and developed brains, and are capable of making informed voting decisions. Children are different. Until they are able to process and comprehend complex information, their worldview depends mostly on what their parents tell them. This can be dangerous if we display heavily biased behavior. 

Gleaning truth from political discussions, which is thick with nuance and insinuations, is elusive enough for adults. We’d all rather not have to sift through the mounds of rhetoric to get to the point. Nevertheless, the security of an authoritative word provides comfort, more for children than adults. 

It’s hard to provide both sides of every issue. We all take sides, leaving parents with the difficult task of imparting neutrality. The problem is that without filters, we risk shaping how our children think before they can do it themselves.

Ella and Sophia know how Tanya and I lean politically; we don’t keep it a secret. We also want them to know that both candidates are, at heart, good people with the best intentions. And just because they look mad at each other during the debate, doesn’t mean they are enemies. Democracy isn’t always pretty. 

As we see in every election, promises rarely turn into reality. But the essence of politics, I’m learning, is not about who’s right, but rather who most people think is right. It’s human nature to identify with a common opinion, and to savor the hope derived from it. Whatever political party my children choose to support in the future, I want them to experience that feeling.

Ella watched five minutes of the debate, a flurry of complaints, interruptions, petulance and semi-truths. “Pretty boring, right?” I asked her.

She nodded and went to bed, probably as satisfied as most adults who were watching.

Good Cop Bad Cop...Who Are You?

The other day, Sophia approached me with a cautious look on her face. “I know you’re going to say no, but I’ll ask you anyway. Can Ella and I have more chocolate?” she asked.

I answered as my 6-year-old had predicted. Her older sister Ella then turned to me and said, “Mom’s a lot nicer than you are when we ask her for stuff. She always says yes.”

While Tanya and I sometimes take different approaches, we agree on the major issues, like being kind, the value of education and making healthy food and activity choices. But Ella’s blunt assessment on our differing levels of permissiveness made me wonder: In a two-parent household, can it be healthy to have one “good cop” and one “bad cop?”

Tanya is far from overly permissive, but she tends to be more easygoing than I am about letting our girls have an extra piece of chocolate or a few more minutes in front of the television. She doesn’t do it just to be known as the “nice” parent; Tanya feels that as long as it’s the exception and not the rule, she’s not too concerned about long-term damage. I admit to being more strict, but I also don’t worry that an occasional extra sweet or late bedtime will scar my kids for life. Fortunately, we tend to agree with each other most of the time.

Parents are individuals, not robots programmed to follow checklists. We act and react, and are subject to whims and emotional manipulations. We want to be liked by our children, and often seek their approval as much as they seek ours.

Sometimes we just need a break from being in charge.

Every household is a microcosm of society in general, with variations in individual styles and personalities. Perhaps, in the same way that parents sometimes split up activity roles with the kids—one may be crafty and the other sporty, for example—we should embrace our different levels of flexibility. Kids like knowing what to expect, even if that means expecting something different from each parent.

And every now and then, when parents stray from their expected roles—Dad let us watch the WHOLE movie! Mom did a flip off the diving board!—the element of surprise can be a powerful tool in developing a strong relationship.

Just as Tanya can be pretty firm when it comes to discipline, I’m not always Mr. Rigid. In fact, I think sometimes I even surprise my wife by letting loose once in a while.

Dairy Queen for everyone — on a Wednesday!

I must admit, I was honored by Ella’s remark on my strictness. I appreciate that she acknowledges my authority. And maybe being drawn to Mom’s soft side now could prove to be beneficial when they get older.

Tanya came home from work and we ate dinner. The kids asked her, not me, if they could have dessert. She thought about it, and we shared a silent glance across the table.

Power Trip?

On the day of President Barack Obama’s visit to Fort Collins, I had to pick up Ella and Sophia after their dance class. The president had finished his speech, so we had to wait at Horsetooth and College for a few minutes until traffic opened up. Outside the Marriott on Horsetooth, we saw secret service agents and police cars out front, and no cars were being allowed through.

Ella, my fourth grader, asked, “Why do they block off all the streets?”

I explained about the many security concerns and added, “When you’re the president, you get to go where you want, when you want.”

“Then I definitely want to be president!” yelled Sophia, Ella’s 6-year-old sister.

I tried to explain that in a democracy like ours, the president doesn’t necessarily get everything he wants. Nevertheless, the rest of the ride home Ella and Sophia listed all the laws they would enact when they became president. I was encouraged by their vision, but also leery of their hunger for power, which led me to ask: What does having power really mean for children?

Great ideas often begin when a vision—be it a desire, need, or hope—takes root inside a person’s brain. From Edison’s light filament to Ghandi’s peaceful protests, the world’s great visionaries all required one common element to make their ideas work: power. Not the kind that corrupts, but the kind that drives us forward and makes people listen to what we have to say.

True power is more than the ability to control people or situations. It’s the feeling that comes with listening to our inner voice. Sometimes, paradoxically, we need to give it up in order to retain it. (You parents know what I’m talking about.)

We’re certainly not born with it, and some adults never truly gain it. But if we give our children the proper tools—love, trust, safety, self-esteem—I suspect they’ll be more likely to develop their own personal power and use it wisely.

Sophia said that if she were president, she would make smoking illegal everywhere. Ella said she would make a law against wars. I smiled at their suggestions and refrained from offering a dour commentary on how unrealistic they were. After all, the first step toward gaining power is desire.

The upcoming election is, as usual, bringing out the worst in all of us. And with the recent tragedy in the Aurora movie theater and the 11th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks fresh in our minds, the notions of power and its sometimes heinous repercussions are inescapable. In our society, power tends to represent freedom, but in the wrong hands can morph into its evil twin: suppression. As a parent, I’m acutely aware that sometimes, it takes more energy not to wield it.

Perhaps the trick to using one’s power responsibly is to acquire it early in life. If children can safely learn how to gain it, when to use it and when to give it up, maybe they won’t be so obsessed with it as adults.

Parents Caring for Kids Caring for Parents

My daughters and I were driving down Shields Street and passed the Elderhaus, which provides day programs for adults with disabilities or special needs. Ella, my 9-year-old, asked me why a grown-up would need day care.

“Sometimes when people get old, they need help, like little kids,” I explained. “And it gives the people who take care of them a little break. It can be stressful to care for someone around the clock.”

I thought for a moment, then asked, “Would you take care of me and Mom when we get old?”

Ella replied, “I’ll have my own kids!”

Thankfully, Ella’s 6-year-old sister, Sophia, eased my concern. “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll take care of you guys.”

I wondered: is it fair for parents to expect their grown children to take care of them in their old age?

Caring for young children and the elderly require many of the same skills: time, patience, money and a lot of physical and mental energy. But no one expects children to change their own diapers or teach themselves how to make a sandwich. We also know that within a few years, kids become independent and, for the most part, manage themselves. By that time, parents should be free to enjoy their free time, as well as middle-age and retirement years without the burdens of keeping someone alive and healthy.

Not so fast.

While we all strive to live long, healthy lives, aging brings challenges that affect older people as well as their caregivers. Things don’t always work out as planned.

Aging takes responsible planning, reliable support and a little luck.

Bodies fail, and money doesn’t last forever. Dementia and disease can debilitate someone quickly, necessitating round-the-clock care for basic daily activities. Without dutiful parents, the aged are forced to depend on another source. Certainly, grown children who live nearby are an option, but they have jobs and lives and, as Ella intimated, their own children.

The ideal solution, I suspect, is different for every family. I may have to help my own parents someday, and my sister and I would do what was necessary to preserve their dignity.

I would love for my kids to be able to help me and Tanya when we get old, but I’m not sure I feel comfortable expecting it. We spend countless amounts of energy helping our girls maximize their potential so they can enjoy their lives.

Helping me in the bathroom isn’t quite what I had in mind.

In my job at the hospital, I’ve witnessed many situations where families become stressed because of the medical needs of an ill, aging parent. Thankfully, there are places like Elderhaus to ease the burden. They don’t relieve caregivers completely, but it’s enough to let them recharge. Depending on what life hands us, that may be the best we can hope for.

And as I told Ella and Sophia: I don’t expect them to give up everything for me, but I’d sure be happy to have them around.

Hate the Smoke, Not the Smoker

While walking with my family in Old Town this summer, we passed a man who puffed a cloud of smoke from his mouth. Sophia asked me, “Why do people smoke?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they want to get lung cancer,” I answered sarcastically.

Sophia stopped in her tracks. “Why would someone WANT to get cancer?” she asked, her face contorted as only a 6-year-old’s can.

My answer was probably a bit harsh, and I’m not sure it helped Sophia, who normally avoids cigarette smoke like the plague, understand my point. But our exchange got me thinking. While it’s vital to teach our kids about the possible effects of certain choices, it’s equally important to separate the actor from the act. How can parents educate kids on making good choices without vilifying a person who already made a bad one?

With all the information made available over the past couple of decades — including large-type warnings on the outside of every package of cigarettes — it’s common knowledge that smoking is a health hazard. Today’s children are educated early on the consequences of lighting up: lung disease, cardiovascular problems, cancer and bad oral hygiene, to name a few. But for those who started many years ago, smoking can be hard to stop. Like alcohol and fast food, tobacco and nicotine are addictive.

It can also be challenging to convey to kids, who tend to be more black-and-white than adults, that just because a person has a bad habit doesn’t make him a bad person. I don’t want my children to grow up believing that we judge a person based only on certain actions instead of on the total package of personality. No one, after all, is without flaws. And smoking, while dangerous and irritating to the senses, is merely one of a number of life choices many people make every day.

Certainly, more egregious crimes can warrant a cautious approach to picking whom to associate with, but there is a huge gray area. We all know a smoker or two. Chances are, the vast majority of them are simply regular people who happen to have a bad habit. For the ones I know, smoking doesn’t detract from their otherwise high moral character.

The same can be said about those who drink alcohol and, for that matter, anyone with a few irritating personality traits. (My kids regularly point out that I am weirder than most parents, so I’m included.) We are all subject to the same occasional judgments on our less attractive qualities. And none of us is worse than another because of them.

Sophia still grimaces and pinches her nostrils when she passes someone smoking on the street. Words like “gross” and “disgusting” often escape her mouth, sometimes louder than Tanya and I would appreciate. I’m happy she has developed such a strong aversion to cigarette smoke; hopefully, she’ll be less likely to take up the habit when she’s older. But there is a big difference between a cigarette and a smoker.

Jobs: Money or Service?

Standing outside with my daughters and their friend Rachel a couple of weeks ago, the familiar summer sound of approaching chimes made us look to the street. As an ice cream truck drove by, Rachel remarked, “He doesn’t look so happy.”

“How can you not be happy,” asked Ella, my 9-year-old, “when you’re driving an ice cream truck?”

“Maybe he doesn’t like his job,” I replied.

Sophia, Ella’s 6-year-old sister, said, “How is that possible?”

The conversation got me thinking about a common issue that most adults have to deal with. When kids inquire about why we work and whether we enjoy our job, should we explain our true feelings?

In theory, driving a truck filled with ice cream and distributing sweet goodness to eager children everywhere seems like a rewarding job. The same goes for any career where a person truly enjoys what they’re doing, from treating the sick to managing finances to fixing a car. But let’s face it: Jobs give us the money we need to live, and doing what we really love doesn’t always pay the bills.

My daughters sometimes complain about Tanya and me having to work and not being able to hang out as a family. Sadly, my first instinct isn’t always to tell them that people are depending on me. I usually give the standard spiel about paying the mortgage or buying food or being able to take vacations.

I’d love to tell Ella and Sophia that the main reason I work is to contribute to society. But it’s not completely true. One of the most important lessons for children to learn is that having a steady job is important, as it translates to a steady stream of income. Quite often, that means doing something you might not enjoy or working when you’d rather be playing. We’ve all been there, whether it’s the part-time job as a teenager flipping burgers or the one you take until something better comes around.

I enjoy being a physical therapist. I help people, I have fun with my co-workers, and I make enough money to pay the bills. Writing also makes me happy, even though I’ll confess I don’t get paid for everything I publish. (Thankfully, I don’t have to depend on writing to make a living.) But on those days when I’d rather be at home or hiking a trail, I wonder if others notice my attitude like Rachel noticed the ice cream truck driver.

Tanya and I want our children to choose professions that make them happy. Otherwise, they’ll spend large parts of their lives being miserable, no matter how much money they make. The parent’s challenge is to demonstrate that going to work can be rewarding and enjoyable (most of the time) while still producing the necessary wage to live a comfortable life. It’s a tough middle ground.

I still wonder if the ice cream truck driver’s kids asked him if he had a good day at work. I’m even more curious if he answered honestly.

Step Away, Parent...

Ella, my 9-year-old, went to overnight camp this year for the first time. She was eager to spend a week in the mountains without Mom or Dad or anyone else from home. At the drop-off, Sophia, Ella’s 6-year-old sister, looked around intently, presumably taking in the sights, sounds and smells of freedom.

As soon as she found out that a cabin could be shared by girls ages 7 to 10, Sophia said, “I want to go to camp next year.”

“You might not be in Ella’s cabin,” I said, knowing how much she adores her big sister.

“I want to go,” she shot back.

“We’ll talk about it next spring, OK?”

“I’m going.”

My immediate concern was that Sophia might not be ready for a week away from her parents. She’s more sensitive than Ella and tends to be less comfortable doing things on her own. But her insistence on going to camp next year — and my hesitance — got me thinking: Was I trying to protect Sophia or myself?

Tanya and I both attended overnight summer camps as children; she was 7 her first time, I was 11. Even as kids, we were both social people with a taste for new experiences, so it’s not surprising that we continued to go back year after year. No question, the time away from my parents was nice but less enticing than the prospect of meeting new friends and trying new activities.

Looking back now, the best part was living with teenage counselors who forced me and my peers to work things out on our own. We couldn’t depend on our parents, most of whom tend to forget what it’s like to be a kid. I learned a variety of new skills, had a ton of fun, and developed a sense of autonomy that helped form who I am today.

I wonder how different things would have been had my parents been afraid to let me go. What if they were worried I couldn’t handle it? I might never have gotten the chance to prove myself.

Every summer, there were a few kids who had a tough time, but most of them worked through it. Like everyone, I had my share of conflicts and awkward moments, and I surely behaved differently (not necessarily better) when my folks weren’t around. But that’s the point of leaving home. Sometimes separation is the best thing parents can offer their kids. Think full days at school and weeklong vacations at Grandma’s house.

Ten years ago, before Ella was born, a pediatrician told Tanya and me something I’ll never forget. He talked about the dangers of parents micromanaging situations to the point of actually creating problems. He advised us to get in the habit of asking ourselves: “Is it bothering me, or is it bothering my kid?”

Now, as I find myself fearing an issue that might not even exist, I’m reminded of his wisdom. There are times when I’m more useful if I just step away.

Same Sex Parents...a nonissue?

Last week, Sophia asked, “Can a mom get a baby without a dad?”

Tanya explained to our 6-year-old the basics of how babies are created. By basics, I mean she omitted details about artificial insemination or in vitro fertilization. 

“But,” she clarified, “any two people can raise a child, not just a mom and a dad.”

“That’s good,” Sophia said. “A girl at school has two moms.”

Tanya and I have already done the first “where do babies come from” talk with Ella, our 9-year-old. But we haven’t yet broached the more contemporary (and potentially divisive) topic of same-sex parenting. Watching Sophia shrug off an issue that can easily polarized an entire country, I wondered: are families with same-sex parents any different from traditional families.

Nine years into my parenting career, I’ve learned how hard it is to be responsible for another human. I’ve also learned the indescribable feeling of loving a child, and being loved in return. Those emotions are common to parents from all races, nationalities and political pursuasions. That’s because parenting calls upon the most innate, basic instincts there are: guiding a helpless creature to a capable existence.

Biology tells us that only a male and female are capable of creating an embryo. But science doesn’t address situations like one individual’s ability and desire to love and nurture another human, or the right to raise a family as he or she sees fit, regardless of sexual preference. And with the many ways at our disposal to have a child—biologically, adoption, in vitro—the only true criteria anymore is one’s willingness to do the work. And let’s face it, raising a child is much more challenging than conceiving one.

When children are too young to understand sexual orientation (and, frankly, couldn’t care less), the measures of successful parenting are meeting a child’s physical and emotional requirements, keeping them safe, and having a little fun. Those early years set the foundation for positive values. And if two loving parents happen to be of the same sex, I’m confident that the crying baby, who’s just happy to have a snuggle, isn’t concerned.

I would imagine that as adolescence approaches, the logistics could become complicated. But regardless of the composition of one’s parents, no teen is immune to the trials of homework, peer pressure and puberty. And surely no parent—gay, straight, man or woman—slides by without stress either. 

The reality of family life is that all parties are constantly learning, and none of us is in a position to judge what happens in someone else’s home. In this way, sexual orientation is no different from ethnicity or someone’s job.  

Children benefit from the different strengths of fathers and mothers, and for that matter, males and females. And yes, according to biology, having one parent of each is preferable. But when the girl with two mothers in Sophia’s class hurts herself and calls “Mommy,” she’d probably say that two are most certainly better than one. 

Country or City?

A few months ago, driving with my daughters in the back seat, 9-year-old Ella remarked, “You know, Dad, dinosaurs once roamed around Colorado. Even before there were Wendy’s and banks.”

I chuckled at the thought of a T-Rex running up the A-trail and then turned serious. Sixty-five million years is a hard enough concept to grasp, but with technology and population growth expanding uncontrollably, even relatively recent frontier times seem like ancient history. Our little Front Range escape is no longer the quaint, undeveloped town of old, and isn’t getting any smaller. As Fort Collins swells and development surges, I wonder: Does city size matter when raising children?

When we moved to Fort Collins in 2004, the population was 125,000. Today, it’s closer to 150,000. The development is obvious, from new neighborhoods south on Timberline Road to more traffic on College Avenue to the explosion of retailers at Front Range Village. Yet it’s essence has remained the same: friendly people, active lifestyle and great weather. I’m definitely hooked.

I was born and raised in the cosmopolitan city of Montreal, home to 2.5 million people. The street on which I grew up was home to more ethnicities than exist in Fort Collins. My friends and I took the subway and the city bus alone before junior high school. We functioned in two languages and developed the confidence that comes from living in a fast-paced atmosphere. After seven years in South Florida, also fast-paced and diverse, the speed finally got to me.

Once Ella was born in 2003, Tanya and I were ready to move. We sacrificed the financial opportunities and stimulation of urban living for the intimacy and amiability of a small town. We still love the sophisticated cultural and culinary opportunities of big cities (not the prices, mind you), but smaller and closer to nature were priorities.

There are many reasons to raise families in populous places like Chicago or New York or Atlanta. Proximity to higher education and extensive travel opportunities come to mind. I also suspect that a high percentage of kids who grow up in big cities develop an appreciation for multiculturalism and the confidence necessary to thrive in a competitive marketplace.

Some of my close friends and family are raising children in places such as Montreal, Toronto and Boston. While my kids and theirs might eventually think differently about issues like politics, business and the environment, I’m pretty sure the truly important aspects of their personalities will be similar. That’s because basic human kindness, generosity and respect are learned on the inside of the home.

Successful, happy people come from all pockets of the world: urban, rural and everything in between. And while external factors in a person’s development are innumerable, the ultimate product has nothing to do with whether you ride the train or a bike to school. Or, for that matter, a dinosaur.

Quitting the Family? Good Luck

A few weeks ago Ella asked me if she could play at the park after dinner. It was already 6:30 after a long day at school, and she and her 6-year-old sister, Sophia, had yet to have a bath. “Sorry,” I answered. “There’s too much to do before bed.”

Ella stomped up the stairs and yelled, “Sometimes I wish I could just quit the family and do whatever I want!”

Ella’s only 9, so I wasn’t concerned that she would follow through on her threat. I did, however, see her point. Like most parents, Tanya and I tell our kids what to do all the time, mostly because they don’t listen until something is repeated 10 times. I wondered: In the interest of showing my kids how much they really need my bossing around, should I consider actually letting them do whatever they want?

This wasn’t the first time I heard Ella voice her displeasure with the family hierarchy. I appreciate that from her perspective, it must be hard to only occasionally taste the freedom that parents seem to exercise all the time. Even from a young age, we all know how good it feels to make decisions, from what to eat for breakfast to whom to invite to our birthday party. We crave autonomy.

The catch is that young children don’t have enough experience to understand what they need and how to make sound long-term decisions. I consider Ella to be emotionally mature for a 9-year-old. But left to her own devices, I wouldn’t be surprised if she bathed once a week, ordered pizza for dinner every night, and watched television until her eyes glazed over. Of course, I could be wrong.

It would be quite the social experiment (and probably criminal) to give Ella and Sophia, say, three days to police themselves. I wouldn’t leave the house, just leave them alone. My instructions might go something like this:

“Be careful using the stove.”

“Wear clean underwear.”

“If you shower, don’t flood the basement.”

To be clear, I would never go through with it. But if I did, Sophia probably would raid the candy drawer, then beg us to come back within a day. Ella, I fear, might actually consider it a vacation. She’d scramble up some eggs in the morning, wear the same clothes every day, and watch a lot of movies. In other words, she’d be fine, but only until she wasn’t.

That time would come eventually, because it has to. Children can’t grasp how dependent they are on being told what to do. Even if they don’t freely admit it, they crave guidance and examples of how to navigate the world. If kids were meant to do whatever they wanted all the time, parents would have been phased out a long time ago.

As my own mother told me when I was finally old enough to understand: When your kids tell you to back off, listen closely. They’re telling you the exact opposite.

Getting Paid???

Just got an offer to write a couple of articles for a local magazine...and get paid for it. I will most certainly make this opportunity count. I'm excited and a little nervous but I've never been one to back down from a new experience. The more I write, the more I enjoy it, and the more I want to improve my craft. And the best part? Who knows what the future will hold.

After giving a talk to Ella's third grade class about writing, I realized for myself that patience is so important when it comes to devoting oneself to a new endeavor. If I'm preaching it to a bunch of 9-year-olds, I better have some myself. And when you're patient, good things happen.

Well, I'm off to research women's beauty products.

Yes, you read it right.

OMG...I Can Be Cool Too

A few weeks ago, Ella and Sophia were talking about the boys in their classes, and who had a crush on whom. I let my head drop into my hands and sighed, "Oh, my goodness."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Dad," she said, "You can say OMG like all the cool kids do."

I wasn't sure which affected me more, that my 8- and 6 year-old daughters were musing about boys or that I wasn't as cool as a third-grader. Ella's comment made me wonder: should parents strive to be cool?

As our children grow from infants to toddlers to elementary schoolers to adolescents, the milestones pass quickly. The physical changes don't bother me; I look forward to my children becoming more physically and mentally capable and to watching them mature into healthy adults. The social aspects of growing up, however, can be much more daunting.

Kids need guidance from their parents, but they don't always admit as much or accept it when it's offered.

So far, our daughters trust and confide in Tanya and me. But they're also years away from the stage in their lives when independence and defiance - necessary steps for becoming an adult - prevail over innocence and blind trust. We eventually will have to get creative to help our daughters identify and achieve their goals, and help them stay safe doing it. We'll need to somehow convey to Ella and Sophia that we understand the importance of fitting in, being liked and trying new things. We'll need then to see us as, for lack of a better word, "cool."

Don't get me wrong: I'm aware of the difference between cool and permissive. I've heard from various sources (including my own parents) that when teenagers say they want Mom or Dad to be their friend, they actually are asking for boundaries and that being too chummy with them can be dangerous. Yet, I've also learned valuable lessons from my own relationships and working with people of all generations that regardless of age, flexibility is an asset.

I'm in favor of discipline and boundaries. I also believe children, from preschool to high school, crave guidance, whether they admit it or not. But parents and children spend a lot of time together and both parties deserve to enjoy that time. As in any relationship with a spouse, a friend or a relative, sharing interests and compromising is key.

Credit Cards in Kindergarten?

I routinely receive dozens of credit card applications in the mail. Recently, one read: "Dear Miss Sophia Kensley: Since you are a valued customer...." I'm still not sure how my 6-year-old was selected for the offer.

"What would you do with a credit card if you had one?" I asked her.

"I don't know. Play with it, probably," Sophia mused.

Indeed, I said, that's what many adults do. After all, these handy pieces of plastic fit in a pocket and can be used to buy just about anything, including things we can't afford and rarely use. But could they perhaps serve as valuable learning tools for personal finance management? Do kids need credit cards?

According to USdebtclock. org, our national debt is currently more than $15.5 trillion, which equates to about $50,000 per citizen. The responsibility of paying it down sits squarely on the shoulders of Sophia and her 8-year-old sister, Ella, their schoolmates, and, at this rate, their children and grandchildren. Given this burden, it's my job as a parent to prepare them for a lifetime of fiscal responsibility.

A friend of mine who works in the financial industry has suggested to me that living within one's means is one of the most important things for parents to teach their children. In other words, don't spend what you don't have. For every $100 earned, he recommends saving $10 and leaving the rest available for spending. That way, there will always be something around later, whether in tough times, retirement or to make a substantial purchase. But planning for the future is not organic; it must be taught.

Most financial transactions now take place electronically, making credit and debit cards vital. This is convenient but it deprives youngsters of an appreciation for the value of money. Spending $50 for dinner looks identical to booking an all-inclusive vacation or buying a candy bar. Children need a way to learn the basics of economics.

Tanya and I help our daughters count the coins in their piggy banks. We require them to save large portions of birthday and holiday money. They are free to use their “spending money” on whatever they choose, on the condition they have to live with their purchase. But there are still the issues of credit, debt and interest, which I don’t expect my elementary school-age children to grasp. Heretical as it sounds, credit cards may be the solution.

Teenagers with income can apply for and obtain credit cards, with parents as cosigners and with low spending limits. If they pay their bill in full every month, thereby avoiding the dreaded finance charge, they keep the card and build a high credit rating. This could help in time with paying for a home or higher education, what my friend calls “good debt.” And most importantly, they develop responsible habits and skills that will help them throughout their lives.

Don’t worry, I didn’t fill out that Visa application for my kindergartner. But rest assured, I’m keeping it handy.