Grateful though I initially was to not find Simba on the edge of the roof - suffice to say neighbors have seen sufficient rescue cars at my residence over the years - I immediately recalled being my daughter's same age and waking up one morning to find my own kitten's neck stuck under a swinging door.  At the time, it was the most disastrous thing I'd ever witnessed; my kitten's head was literally in the dining room...his body in the kitchen.  My father was the hero who restored calm that morning.  How was it exactly, I wondered next, that without a class or training I'd inherited his role?
     Doomed while Simba's brief life appeared, and clueless though I was how to free him, something in my soul reassured me that the same miracle of physics which enabled Simba's oversized head to enter an undersized hole...would enable him to exit.  So..while my highly distressed teen continued to whimper in doubt and dismay, I spoke soothingly to Simba and turned the basked gently to what I prayed would be an easier exit route.  I might as well have struck him.  Simba's wails joined Alexa's and I moved from soul speak to wondering whether petroleum jelly or a welder's fire was appropriate for working a miracle in reverse.  Just as I feared I was not only miserably failing as a hero but in fact breaking my daughter's kitten's sweet little neck - the miracle occurred - Simba was free.
     A week post trauma I have the luxury of reflection and wondering where in fact I learned to be the hero in the scenario.  What exactly happened between being a teen and a middle aged mother that enabled me to respond with such optimism, calm, can do attitude and presence?  What comes to mind is a contest one of the news stations ran where they asked people to describe being a mother in six words.  The winning phrase was "Heart walking around outside your body."  That does it for me...

     I tried the dry erase board with daily chores. I tried setting up a daily schedule, making "Summer House Rules," withholding pool and playground time for "misbehavior", but none of that was working.  In some cases, my boys were actually rebelling against my rules and in other cases (like grounding); it just backfired because now I was stuck in the house with them!

     My husband has been doing his best to help by using "Daddy force" - you know, that big voice and direct command method that always gets such eager participation...but every time I would hear him bark a command or correct/announce a mistake or poor choice, I would get upset or even defensive on my kids' behalf.

     I was struggling for an answer that would help me to get my kids to do what I expected of them over the next 2.5 months...Then my darling husband did something that made everything come into perspective...he insulted me.

     We both woke up early for the first time since summer break started...and he said nothing. I sorted the laundry and put away the boy's clothes...and he said nothing.  The boys popped out of bed an hour early and came in to our room to spend time with us...and he said nothing.  Then Max mentioned he was still sleepy...and Dad spoke; "Then it's a good thing you're going to bed an hour early tonight because of the way you acted last night, huh?!" ...and Max and Alex got angry.  Then he started reading a book about healthy eating and spoke again.  He told me that the stuff I buy is on the "NOT that" part of the list ....and I got angry.  Finally, before he walked out the door, he asked for the things he wanted us to do "for him" today.  HA! Let's just say that Dad had not created an attitude of servitude within his family so far and we were not enthusiastic about granting his wishes today.

     THEN it HIT me! THAT'S IT!  An attititude of servitude has to be EARNED not demanded.  If we want our children to joyfully carry out our every request, we have to put as much energy into acknowledging what they do RIGHT as we do pointing out what they do wrong! I realized right then, that I had been seeing every blunder, mistake or failure as an "opportunity for learning" so I would stop them and call out the misbehavior and either scold them for it or lecture them on how to do it better or "my way" next time.  But I can't tell you that I took the same amount of time pointing out or thanking them for doing stuff correctly or independently...and THAT is where I was failing. 

     Now of course, I had to share my revelation with my husband who immediately identified that as "calling out his misbehavior" but he's just a smart alec so I let him slide...but he did see where I was going and I think he agreed with me.  As far as the kudos discipline method, it's been successfully deployed and I have been seeing tremendous results from my kids.  Honestly...it's making ME feel better too because I am doing what I do best; focusing on and bringing more of the good stuff into my space!

     The To-Do list has turned into a "Goals" list and we are having a lot more fun putting up stars and check marks rather than frowny faces and negative TV/allowance/bedtimes.  The best part is that my kids have started to thank ME for doing stuff for THEM!  I even got a kiss on the cheek today for putting an extra $3.00 in the pool bag...

...I wonder what I'll get for mowing the lawn..)

Have a playful day!
Mama Tara
http:www.tarakennedykline.com

     How come knowing their fighting is normal doesn't permit me to accept it more?  Always it saddens me a bit.  And even though I know I was the same with my brother, over way less cooler stuff, I still can't help but ask "Why?"  "Why do they have to be so mean to each other?" "Is it the TV shows they watch?"  "Do my husband and I not provide loving enough role models?"
     Recently, however, I was granted a glimpse into something entirely new; something beautiful, something I dare describe as sibling compassion. I know, it sounds like an oxymoron; sibling rivalry yes, sibling compassion, doesn't exist, check Websters.  And yet, it happened.
     The other day my son told me someone at school was calling him "weak". (He is on the shorter side and some of his friends outweigh him by 20 lbs.) Of course, my first instinct was to give him advice in a humorous tone "Ah, just tell them to eat another Twinkie." Then, as I paused to question the maturity of such a reply, my daughter  - wholly oblivious to our conversation just two minutes prior - entered the room.  Hands on hips, eyes narrowed, she asked in a voice which would have put fear in Dracula himself  "Who said that?".
     I had to smile as my son beamed up with newfound pride in his big sis.   Just knowing she cared, she really truly cared and was coming to his defense, was sufficient to put all his prior fears to rest.  A calmness swept between the two of them and I saw sincerity and something true and good.  She was on his team, his protector, his guardian angel.  Was this real?  Would it pass?  I didn't know but...for that moment, life was good, they were normal, and I was a pretty good mom afterall.

Mama Kim
www.lifeskillsreportcard.com
 

     Waking up at 3:00 a.m. (due to fear of missing the 5:00 a.m. alarm which would permit us to make the 6:00 a.m. bus) enabled me to greet everyone at the appropriate time in a near dream like state - which other parents (I prayed) intrepreted as calm. Three hours drive later, while strolling through colonial Jamestown with my spike haired, Tony Hawkins t-shirt clad, son, I even found myself sincerely cherishing our precious bonding opportunity and envisioning a day when his great grandchildren would stroll through replicas of our charming home town. 
     I was also abnormally fascinated with the roles individual children assumed; the leaders, the followers, the comedians.  And  the role I assumed as their designated "parent"; procurer of band aids, bathroom door guardian, dispenser of smiles, compliments, and security confirming admonitions.
     Yes, I confess, at the end of the day I suffered a small headache and was contemplating a large cocktail but... overall, I was and remain intensely grateful for such an intimate view of the life of my elementary school son.

Mama Kim 
Opportunity Knocks
www.lifeskillsreportcard.com

 

     The other, fourteen year old Amber Dubois, had been missing for over a year. Amber was last seen walking to school, less than ten miles from the park where Chelsea would later be murdered. My own teenage daughter happened to attend the same high school as Amber.  I attended the candlelight vigils praying for her safe return and submitted the following editorial to our local paper.

                                         Innocent until Missing

      The disappearance of a child is every parent's worst nightmare, a tragedy so great, every fellow heart grieves.  Amber Dubois and her family have most assuredly been in our family's prayers since her disappearance and I was grateful to see your front page headline, Sunday February 22,  titled "When a loved one suddenly goes missing."  My gratitude turned to dismay however when I continued reading and learned police seemed to justify slow response to missing teen reports due to the prevalence of runaways.
     Painfully little attention though it receives in the media, human trafficking now runs second to drug trafficking in prevalence and profitability.  Experience has established unequivocally that the level of action executed in the first 24 hours of a missing person report is vital to determining the outcome.  These combined facts mandate we give each missing teen report the strongest, fastest, most efficient and comprehensive police and community response possible.  Justifying lesser action due to teens that left homes willingly places us on the side of aiding and abetting abductors and blinds future victims to their own vulnerability.

     I wish today I could write that, thanks to evidence found in the search for Chelsea and Amber and the subsequent arrest of a local registered sex offender, families in our community can rest in peace.  The reality however, one easily confirmed by an internet search, is that every city is home to literally hundreds of sex offenders.  So although the King and Dubois families are working heroically today to honor their daughters by improving legislation which tracks and prosecutes these individuals, the sad truth is no child is safe.  For this reason, we must teach our children how best to avoid being targeted and how to respond in the event someone attempts to abduct them.

Mama Marlaine
Submitted in loving memory of Amber Dubois and Chelsea King
 www.lifeskillsreportcard.com  

Dear Mom and Dad,

     I wanted to write you both a letter to let you know that I miss you deeply even though I don't always find time to say it.  I also wanted to thank you both for giving me the opportunity to attend an amazing school that I love.  I hope you know that I truly am happy here and could not imagine myself in a better place.  Even though I am extremely happy, I miss you both alot. 
     I know raising me wasn't easy, but moving away definitely makes me appreciate everything you've done for me.  Sometimes It's hard not having you around.  I miss mom's back scratches and dad's big bear hugs.  I miss telling you guys about my day and it's weird doing little things like grocery shopping on my own.  However I feel you both prepared me very well and I could not have asked for a more wonderful set of parents.  I love you both so much and I am  thankful that no matter what, I always have a home to return to.  Both of you are hard on yourselves, and I guess I really just hope that this letter shows you that all your efforts do not go unappreciated or unnoticed.  I know Ari feels the same. 
     It really does amaze me how fast time flies.  I feel like yesterday mom was driving me to gymnastics and dad was catching our bunnies.  I feel guilty for the way I sometimes treated you growing up (and no I'm not done growing and yes I will probably still mess up).  I feel I didn't tell you enough how much you mean to me.  I'm trying really hard in school.  I want to prove that I appreciate you sacrificing so much for me and Ari.  I see other parents and realize how lucky I am to be your daughter.  Please feel free to call me more often if you miss me.  I'd love to talk anytime. Thanks for being you. 
                                                                          Love always,
                                                                                   Little Bear

     Key to our success, or so we thought, would be the internet.  We would plan ahead what we were purchasing and not fall prey to sleek sales, music, and marketing at the malls.  While the internet did provide us "the mall" absent the music (and sneezing, coughing crowds) it completely failed to deliver one very important shopper's reward - cart satisfaction.
     Sure you can "view your cart" but the half inch picture simply doesn't deliver the same sense of accomplishment as pushing a real cart packed with Monopoly, drums and dolls. Adding additional unplanned items as a means of compensating for how little I'd purchased of course served only to increase the guilt I felt as I proceeded to check out and entered my credit card number.  So much for reigning it in.  Guess we too will consult Suzie Orman for Christmas 2010.  

Mama Kim www.lifeskillsreportcard.com

     "Ari, would you like to lead the family in prayer?" I asked as usual once we were all seated around the candle lit table.  "No" she replied flatly.  Did I listen?  No.  I naively decided she was merely suffering a case of teen angst due to some new guests in attendance and prompted her further.  "Go ahead honey, you always say it so beautifully."  I might as well have ignited dynamite.  
     "I said no Mother" my normally well mannered daughter screamed as she jumped from the table and bolted up the stairs sobbing.  "Why can't you just listen to me the first time?" 
     Shock is a pretty good word to describe the state of everyone at the table for the rest of the dinner.  Fortunately our guests, who happen to be childless, seemed to possess a new sense of satisfaction with their decision not to procreate.   

Mama Marlaine www.lifeskillsreportcard.com

     One year I took it upon myself to build a haunted house.  Dry ice boiling in a black cauldron beckoned the children's entrance, rubber bats swinging from spider webs grazed their scalps, and no one could venture forward without first finding the magic button at the bottom of the bowl of brains (cooked spaghetti).  
     The creation which forever made my daughter's "top ten things my mother did to ruin life as I know it" list however was the Hands of the Dead - ten link sausages decorated with long red acrylic nails and yes ok...I confess...accessorized with ketchup impersonating as blood.
     Looking back, I too view my Halloween "Hands" as over the top and know "a better mother wouldn't have".  But, like moms everywhere daily, I was making it up as I went and ....I honestly thought my sausage fingers were cutting age cool. Instead, they have forever defined me as cruel and insensitive, a fact which must be shared with whomever present at every All American Breakfast.
     Not to be gender biased but, I can't help wondering, if I'd had sons instead of daughters...would my Hands of the Dead have earned me the title of "World's Best Halloween Mom?"
     
 Hugs! Mama Marlaine  www.lifeskillsreportcard.com 
    

     Tried though I have for my children not to be brand conscious, the truth is retail arrogance has stricken my household. Attempts to steer another direction are like struggling in quicksand and merely confirm to them my lack of intelligence.  As I ponder how I ended up in this position, I catch a friend's posting on Facebook.  
     She is sending her daughter to her final year of high school.  How did that happen? Just last year she was celebrating her seventh birthday. I am reminded that time is precious. My own daughter is entering middle school this year with heightened anxiety.  
      New faces, new places, new challenges.  We meet them daily, whether we are heading out to middle school or our first day at a new job. So I switch gears. Instead of lamenting my children's attraction to labels,  I tell my daughter how confident I am that she will love middle school and all the opportunities it brings.  In that moment, we are both reminded of what is most important.

Mama Kim