My husband is a brilliant man. Very knowledgeable. About many things. I don’t say that to brag, rather to highlight his ability to answer our kids’ questions in many areas, including obscure historical facts and tidbits. But when it comes to math? He’s not their go to person. I am.
And I have to admit…it feels pretty darn good.
Sometimes I feel pretty inadequate when I don’t know the answers to questions about Greek mythology (was never a passion of mine) or ancient Rome (ditto).
But math? I love math. I tutored Calculus in college. I probably should have majored in Applied Mathematics. It’s exciting to me. Magical. Actually, I’ve been known to lecture the kids about the magic of math and to do so with a sparkle in my eyes and a smile on my face.
And you know what? My kids love math. I don’t mean to be smug; I mean, I’m not giving myself all the credit for that fact. But I bet it doesn’t hurt that I can get pretty excited about thePythagorean Theorem . Or that I’ve told them about the navy t-shirt (I even remember the color) I used to have when I was around ten with a sketch on it that looked something like this:
Yeah, I’ve always loved math. In fact, when I was around my daughter’s age, special time with my dad consisted of his teaching me about the Base 10 system and slide rules . Woohoo!
So…why not celebrate it? I don’t shove it in their faces or insist that they learn about the slide rule before ever using a calculator (which is what my dad did with me). But they’re well aware of my passion for math. And they don’t hesitate to come to me with any questions that arise as they tackle daily homework.
Walking around the streets near Columbia University in Manhattan on a beautiful spring day, I stopped abruptly when I saw the sign. It said "Tom’s Restaurant" on one side of the building and "Restaurant" on the other. I stared for a moment or two, then grabbed the arm of another chaperone and said, "Wait. We have to stop. Do you recognize that place?" As soon as she saw it, she knew.
She, too, was a loyal fan of the Seinfeld series. She knew it was the home of the "Big Salad," the place where George, Elaine and Jerry frequently met and discussed sometimes controversial (but mostly mundane) topics. Where George griped about everything under the sun and Jerry pondered imponderables.
Without hesitation, we went inside for lunch and noticed that the interior looked nothing like it did on the show - completely different floorplan, different art on the walls (this place was covered with signed caricatures and photos of the stars of the show), different condiment containers and different booths.
But the hostess? She could have come straight out of one of the sitcom’s episodes.
Here’s the scene. The restaurant is quite small, with three rows of booths, very narrow aisles between them and a counter. One booth could be described by restaurant people as a "six-top" which means it seats six adults, all the others seat four.
We arrived before the lunch rush, so most of the booths were empty. We were a group of eight, two chaperones and six kids. Or, if you look at it the way I looked at it, two groups of four people each. I had been traveling around Manhattan with the same three girls, so I was expecting to sit in a booth with the four of us (as we had done for every other meal).
The hostess had a different idea.
With a gorgeously strong, rapid fire Manhattan accent, she asserted, " ‘Ow menny ya got? Ya got eight? Right here! Come ohvah heaah. You can sit heaah. Eight. Right? Yeaah. It’s peh-fect. We’ll just pull up a chair, put it on the end. Theaah ya go. The rest of ya sit…ya know…theaah."
She gestured matter of factly toward the six top and looked into my eyes as if it were an order, not a suggestion. I hesitated…knowing, first of all that certain girls didn’t want to sit together and the way they were about to squeeze in would have resulted in elbowing, arguing and an all around unpleasant dining experience. Just try to shove tween girls together who don’t like each other very much, you’ll quickly discover just how nasty they can get. It’s a catty, sarcastic phase.
But the hostess could care less.
She scowled at me with growing impatience and a "WTF are ya doin’ ya frickin’ tourist? Sit ya a@# down already!" kind of look, still motioning for us to fill in the six-top booth.
Meanwhile, some of the girls had climbed out of the six-top, others had climbed in, and my three girls had opened menus, sat down and started getting comfortable in a four top in the next row. They then said, "We’re sitting here ," without even looking up from the menus.
Our lovely hostess, now completely annoyed with us, tried one last attempt, "Wha? Ya got eight, right? Right here. Whaat’s wrong with this? This is fa eight. Right heeaah. I got a chair. I’ll put the chair heeaah. You’ll be fine."
I explained that we were fine as we were. No thanks, we would just sit separately. It was better that way. For us. You know, the customers . We grumbled among ourselves as if we were taking cues from George Costanza himself. "Do you believe that woman? Expecting us to squeeze in there?! Ridiculous! What was she thinking? Well, I’m not doing it."
Lovely hostess rolled her eyes, threw up her arms, sighed and said, "Fine. Whatevah."
But it wasn’t fine.
She came back again and said, "Ya know…if we get busy…now you’re takin’ up two booths. You can all fit in that one booth. It’s fa eight. Y’can sit ova theeaah (motioning again in the direction of the six-top)."
"Uh, well, sorry, we’re already here. It’s early. We’ll probably be gone before you fill up. If we have to move later, we will. But we’d rather stay here. For now. Okay?" I offer in my most sincere, midwestern (please let this end soon) voice.
Just as the drinks arrived, another group of five (that happened to also be part of our main group) walked in the door. Five. All of the girls were tiny, young tweens, so they dove right into a four-top booth. But the hostess would not have it. She walked over to the half of our group sitting in the six-top and commanded them, "Yor gonna haffta move. We gotta bigga group heeaaah. Ya gotta move."
They packed up the drinks, menus and personal belongings and sat in the four-top booth behind us.
I had to laugh. Would there be any better way to enjoy the restaurant from Seinfeld? Thanks, lady. Now can I get that Big Salad?
I’m thrilled to say that my tween daughter and I were selected to be guest post writers (and photographers!) by Pete over at My GPS Camera Phone.
Pete has an amazing, unique blog in which he inspires people to use their camera phones creatively and freely without hesitation or intimidation. Those teeny cameras within your cell phones can make better pictures than you might think. Click here to see one of my favorites. Spend some time on Pete’s blog and you’ll find video tutorials along with plenty of beautiful examples.
After following his blog for a while, I was inspired to look at my phone in a whole new way. Now I snap pictures whenever I see something that strikes me in an interesting way, whatever it may be, even just a basketball net:
Pete will show you how to manipulate and improve the photos after you get them out of your camera. Just look at what Pete does with his then go out and make some beauties of your own.
When I first read an outrageous headline screaming something like “Miley Cyrus Bare in Vanity Fair” I felt shocked and disappointed. I wondered whether she was about to topple off her teen-pop-star-queen throne despite the fact that she seemed so centered (due in large part to her strong family support system).
I mean, would I want my daughter to pose like that at fifteen? Of course not. But that’s not the point. It’s incomparable. Apples to oranges. Cyrus is huge. Mega gargantuan. Tickets for her concerts sold out in minutes. She’s a pop megastar. She travels in a different universe.
Besides, Cyrus admitted her mistake, quickly apologized and expressed regret about the controversial photo. Okay, fine. Let’s just forgive the girl and move on.
But…then I spoke with my kids about Miley’s photo.
They expressed outrage. Disappointment. Even disgust.
Darling Daughter: “Why would she do something like this? She’s fifteen! Fifteen! She shouldn’t have let them take that kind of picture of her.”
Dear Son: “First it was Britney Spears and then Jamie Lynn Spears and now this?!”
DD: “She’s huge! What does she want… more fans?!”
DS: “It’s disgusting.”
DD: “Yeah. It’s just wrong.”
DS: “What does she think all the little kids are going to think? Does she even care?”
Their theory was that maybe Miley wanted to change the balance of the whole “Best of Both Worlds” shtick. They believe that she does “way more” Hannah Montana (fun, simple, happy songs) and only a few Miley Cyrus (harder, rockier, racier songs).
“Maybe,” they pondered, “she wants to do more of the Miley. But she’s only fifteen. All those fans that love the Hannah Montana side are still there. And they’re really disappointed.”
I think they have a point. Fans often follow the fads and images presented by their idols. I remember Madonna way back in the 80s and the whole material girl trend. She influenced fashions while encouraging girls to express themselves.
Young girls dream about their idols and think things like, “I want to be just like her!” Most of Cyrus’s fans range from about six to thirteen. Would we want those young girls posing the way she posed? Again, no. Annie Leibovitz is not going to be taking any of their portraits.
The most disconcerting part of the photo shoot for me was that it did seem as if she wanted something more. As if she wanted to expand her fan base to reach older kids. But not yet, Miley, not yet. Ride this wave just a little longer. Please. Don’t rush it. Your childhood’s already been mangled. No need to try to leap frog over it altogether. There will plenty of time for reinvention. Look at Madonna.
The difference is that Madonna’s fans did not see her getting racy and over the top until she was well into her twenties. And most of her fans were around the same age (or at least in the same generation).
Miley’s fans are much younger than she is and, if she starts to drastically change her image, we don’t want them following in her footsteps. Miley has been the exception to the unfortunate rule of young pop stars like Britney, Lindsay and Jamie Lynn.
Miley was always the breath of fresh air. We need that air. Please learn from this mistake, Miley.
Last year around Mother’s Day, I heard someone say that mothers are closest to their children when they’re in the womb. From the moment they’re born we’re slowly letting them go. I agree. When they’re babies they need our help; but year by year they grow more independent. By the time they get to school, it’s best to let them do their own thing and learn what they’re there to learn. Even if those lessons are painful. Or when we know they may fail.
School projects come to mind as a great example. I know so many parents who just don’t want to let go of their kids. They want to help. So they start out just observing, then they help a little, then a little more then a little more and before you know it, they’ve done a majority of the work. I think that’s unfortunate.
Kids should do their own school projects.
Last year, I walked into my son’s classroom and saw a beautiful display with so much detail and intricate handiwork, I immediately knew no third grader made it. I hadn’t helped my son at all, so immediately I felt guilty. I pulled another mom over and sheepishly asked, “Were we supposed to help do these projects?” She looked stunned (yet impressed) by the professional looking display before us. She muttered, “Noooo” as she continued to check out the board. I felt first confused and then annoyed.
What’s the point of someone’s mother doing a third grade project? Why would a parent feel compelled to take over for her child? Does she fear the kid might fail without her help? Does she think the kid just isn’t doing it right (i.e., the way the parent would do it if it were his/her project?)? How can the kid learn anything if the parent takes over and does everything for him? Isn’t there something to be said for the child’s learning experience?
I know it’s tempting. Heck, I was the worst offender when my son was a bit younger. Whenever he felt a twinge of frustration, I was the mom who would jump in and say, “Oh, here sweetie, let me do that for you” and actually think I was helping him. Now, years later, I see how that kind of rescuing behavior only makes the kid feel incompetent. It must be pretty demoralizing to think you need your mom to come and do everything for you. That over-protectiveness simply has to change at some point. The sooner the better (within reason).
It’s sometimes tricky to find the line. How much help is enough without being too much?
As parents, we’re effectively training our children to be the best adults they can be. As each year passes, we hope to pass on more and more tools for life. I know parents who taught their kids to do their own laundry when they were in third grade. Many other parents teach their kids how to cook so that they’ll be able to handle living on their own. Their rationale? We can’t expect them to go off to college knowing how to live independently if we haven’t given them adequate guidance. And we can’t sit down two weeks before they’re ready to leave and say, “Okay, junior, here’s what you’ll need to know when you get there.” So we give it to them piecemeal. Little by little, step by step. They learn to walk before they can run. They learn to chop vegetables before they make a stew.
And sometimes you let them fall so that they know they’ll survive the many pains of life but also so they know that they can do it. So that they can feel confident
And, if you accept the idea that we’re training them for life, then how can you justify taking over a job that has been assigned to someone else? I mean, when they’re in their 20s, I’m not about to go to their places of business and run their meetings. But we shouldn’t be completely hands off either.
So here’s the policy in our house: hubs and I will buy any necessary materials, maybe even advise on which materials might work best or make suggestions but that’s it. We encourage the kids and guide them but we also make sure that they take ownership of the task. And we follow up by asking what they learned by doing the project (because that is the point after all).
And you know what? It’s made a huge difference!
When parents give their children sufficient guidance and freedom to let their imaginations soar (without imposing their own viewpoints or worse, taking over entire projects) we give our kids the confidence and self satisfaction that helps them grow into secure, assertive adults.
My daughter and I were in the middle of New York City on Saturday and got caught up in this frenzy. I felt compelled to photograph some of the many people taking pictures. Can you guess what they were trying to capture with their cameras?
I remember a few years back when my son hated going to the grocery store. He used to get really cranky and made it known that he would’ve preferred to be anywhere else. But I made it clear that we had to get food and we had to do it at that allotted time. I explained to him, "Look, it is what it is. We’re here at the store and we have to be here at the store. You can suffer through it and whine, moan, complain and wish you were anywhere else but here, or you can choose to make it a fun experience. I guarantee that if you choose that first option, this experience will feel like it’s taking three hours and you’ll dislike nearly every moment. However, if you choose the second option, I’ll bet we can find a way to make it fun. How about if you help me find some of the items on the shelves and put them in the cart. You can even toss a few things into it. What do you say?" He chose the second option and when we came out of that store, he was beaming. We had a great time.
Now I use that experience as a touchstone when we are in other situations that are not particularly fun for him. Or even when he has a challenging school project — I remind him that it’s his choice to either go through the experience filled with dread or to find a way to make it through (or maybe even make it fun), then come out the other side and look forward to the moment when he can do something that he wants to do.
His first grade teacher used to say, "Do your have -tos before your want -tos."
Sometimes … many times … we have to do things that we’d rather not do. But, the more we accept the present moment, face it (better yet, enjoy it) — no matter how much it scares us or how much discomfort it brings us — the better off we’ll be.
No matter which decade of my life I’m in (or nearing), I always want to take time out to play. When I play a great game with the kids, play tennis, work out, shoot hoops, or just walk the dog, I feel better physically and am usually in a better mood. My tolerance level rises and, overall, I’m better able to handle challenges that come my way.
I’m just beginning to get my hands around Twitter. This video helped me get a better understanding of why people would want to use it.
It’s not just full of “I’m going to cook dinner now” or “Off to get some milk.” It’s a great way to quickly share a great link without having to write a full blog post or to share your thoughts about anything from last night’s game (did you watch Kansas win?!) to the latest political news. Heck, just this morning I watched a YouTube video called Google Campfire (caution: it’s a bit dry). I’ve always heard that Google is an amazing place to work and this video gave me just a little taste of the special nature of that company.
Bottom line? The little blips of content (always under 140 characters per message) that make up Twitter give you insight into people and content that you probably wouldn’t discover by just surfing the web, reading your RSS feeds or Alltop , or even just chatting with your real time friends.
Give it a try and let me know what you think. On Twitter, you can find me here .
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UPDATE: For another perspective (and more information), read my blogger friend, Jeremy’s post (from Discovering Dad and Thoughts on Quotes ) comparing and contrasting his Twittering with his daughter’s texting. His use of Twitter (and posting about it) gave me the nudge I needed to try it.
Okay, and then, in the interest of fairness, there’s also this .
The other night, a group of my girlfriends and I gathered together for a movie night. Our gracious host made dinner for us, then we watched “Into the Wild.” Released on DVD in early March, it’s a movie that Sean Penn had been wanting to make for something like ten years. Based on a true story, it’s about a privileged boy, Chris McCandless, who goes off into the wild, rejecting materialism and elitism. He burns cash, gives away his life’s savings and insists that he can survive without money. He rejects the notion that money is power, or, perhaps more accurately, could care less even if it is.
He begins his journey shortly after graduating with honors from Emory University in Georgia. He spends a good deal of time alone, wandering around the western half of the United States, picking up odd jobs here and there, kayaking down the Colorado River (all the way into Mexico), jumping trains and showering via farmland sprinkler systems. He ends up trapped in Fairbanks, Alaska and ultimately has to assume responsibility for his choices.
The post graduate soul searching trip is nothing new. In fact, I chose to take one after college, but my trip had some notable differences. My journey was an organized, university-based trip to Florence, Italy to study art and architecture. Okay, it’s not the same as going into the wild, but it served a similar purpose (without the danger). I was an idealistic young woman who craved more education as well as adventure and independent world travel (i.e., without a parent). While there, I took side trips to places of astonishing beauty like Cinque Terre and Lucca. Those excursions provided plenty of opportunities to ponder, reflect on and write about life. I met so many different kinds of people, from all walks of life. I decided then that I would always be open to other people’s points of view and would respect people, no matter what they did for a living. I learned invaluable lessons during that time. I remember standing on the edge of a cliff in Cinque Terre, absolutely mesmerized by my surroundings and then, an instant later, thinking, “Boy, this would be so much more fun if I was sharing this experience with someone.”
I can relate to Chris’s desire to go to a world where natural beauty matters more than money, and people speak to each other in straightforward, candid ways, never wondering whether their acquaintances are being opportunistic. And I appreciate solitude. I really do. I need it to refuel myself. But I never felt the kind of intense calling that McCandless apparently did. His tortured soul needed to make sense of a world separate and apart from the one in which he was raised. I get that. I just wish he could have found peace sooner. Maybe his story can help other people. That’s probably why Penn wanted to make the movie.
Here are the most important lessons I took away from the movie:
If you’re going to challenge yourself to live in the wild, then spend enough time preparing yourself with courses like NOLS. McCandless was a very bright young guy. The fact that he was relatively unprepared for this daring adventure is a little surprising to me. The first year I can understand, but when you start going into the second year, I start shaking my head a little bit …
It really does matter how you treat your kids. It affects them. For a very long time. In ways you can’t even imagine. (The film suggests that his parents were unaware of (or at least careless about) the impact of their actions on their kids).
Forgiveness is love. It’s criticallly important to our lives and happiness. (I think it was Hal Holbrook’s character that said something like that near the end of the movie). It’s so true. Nobody’s perfect. The power of forgiveness can’t be overstated.
Happiness isn’t real unless it’s shared. (I think that one’s straight from McCandless’s journal and the thought that occurred to me in Italy).
Those are all valuable lessons from a fine movie. I just wish it had a different ending.
