On the flip side, we’ve got The Bachelor on ABC. The women on this show are competing against each other to “win the heart” of one man. Recently, the show concluded another season with a new “winner” and what I found most disturbing about this season was how many of the women seemed to want to win the heart of The Bachelor (Jake Pavelka) so that they could be rescued. They never used those words, exactly, but words such as “fairy tale,” “princess” and “fantasy” (this word is used A LOT on this show) were staples of almost every conversation. Several of them had been married before and were still so young (23, 25!) and wanting to jump right back into a marriage (through the means of this show, no less). It seems to me that they’d be better off taking some time to figure out who they are without a man - what they want, what they’re capable of and who they can be on their own.

Don’t get me wrong - I am all for finding a wonderful partner and getting married. But when it’s seemingly the only goal a woman has, I think it’s unfortunate. (In college, we’d joke that these the women were going for their “MRS degree” - they’d talk more about being in college to meet a husband than for an actual degree that they could use in the future.) Anyone looking at marriage as the perfect answer to life’s challenges is going to be sorely disappointed.

I don’t have a daughter (although I do have a niece who is also my godchild) but if I did, I’d work extremely hard to make sure she understands that marriage is no fairy tale and that life is full of many other possibilities that she can make happen on her own in addition to marriage if she wants both. A happy marriage is a nice thing to have, of course - but it is most possible when you’ve explored who you are, experienced adventures and challenges on your own, and blazed some of your own trails. Why do we continue to encourage little girls to grow up with the fantasy that getting married is like being rescued by Prince Charming in Cinderella and instantly leads to “happily ever after”? Even if your husband is charming and generous, marriage is hard work! Listening to these women (and knowing some in my personal life with the same mentality) talk about it as though it’s the answer to every happiness is disheartening.

I propose we rewrite the fairy tale to be something more along the lines of: girl grows up, girl travels around world, girl discovers her passions, girl works hard at pursuing passion in her work every single day, girl is endlessly rewarded with feelings of self worth, confidence, making a living on her own, etc. One day while happily going about her purposeful life, girl happens to meet future spouse, and together they raise children and work hard at marriage, share responsibilities and hobbies and live a long, happy life together. But girl always knows she is strong, valuable and equal.

Let’s make sure our girls know that marriage is only one piece of many people’s happy lives - not the be all and end all to happiness. Let’s make sure they know that hard work leads to self confidence and worth, and that no one is going to rescue them, but rather that they can learn to love taking care of themselves. Let’s teach them that getting married is just the beginning of a hopefully long journey that is also full of hard work - but well worth it if you make the right choice and work together as equal partners. And, that it’s just one part of a happy and fulfilling life (and that it’s okay if it isn‘t a part of everyone’s life.) Let’s make “happily ever after” more focused on “with yourself.”

Teaching girls to focus on making their dreams come true through their own hard work is a fairy tale I’d like to see more girls reading. How about you?

She knew I wasn’t pleased, though, and on the way home we talked about the need for wearing something on the bottom that’s longer than the top; but, she still had to get in a couple of comments about how her outfit was “stylish” and I wasn’t letting her be “stylish.”

Parent challenge of the day … how to tell a seven-year-old the difference between stylish, sexy and slutty?

The timing was interesting as earlier in the day I’d read a post on GamePolitics.com about a report out of the UK by Dr. Linda Papadpoulos (”glamorous psychologist forever popping up on daytime television“) in which they said she noted: “High street stores sell video games where the player can beat up prostitutes with bats and steal from them in order to facilitate game progression,” leading to the following “clear” message to girls that this type of media portrays, as interpreted by the doctor, “… young girls should do whatever it takes to be desired. For boys the message is just as clear: be hyper-masculine and relate to girls as objects.”

Games were actually only a portion of the media examined. Dr. Papadopoulos talks about the impacts of the Internet in this video.

One of the key recommendations in the report included ensuring that music videos featuring sexual posing or sexually suggestive lyrics are broadcast only after the “watershed” (which means 9:00 p.m until 5:30 a.m.).

Here in the U.S., I know sexual content can be found on our television at earlier hours than that. “Two and a Half Men” on at 8:00 p.m. in my time zone, for example, has plotlines that frequently revolve around the character Charlie’s womanizing sex life.

We do our best to avoid these shows (thank goodness my girl and I both like Food Network), but it’s impossible for me to shield her from sexual themes and images all the time.

So, how do you discuss what is appropriately stylish for a nearly tween girl to wear?

“I’m sorry,” said her mother. “But that’s a man’s job. Women aren’t allowed to work on submarines. Maybe you could be an astronaut, or a firefighter, or a scientist instead?”

But that was yesterday. Today, the U.S. Navy announced that it is ready to lift the ban on women in submarines and that the modifications necessary for the subs to accommodate both sexes are a factor, but “not insurmountable.”

Kudos to the U.S. Navy. As a mother of daughters, I celebrate every time a hurdle is kicked down that might block their way in the future. Now, when we tell our daughters that they can be anything they want to be, we’re one step closer to actually meaning it. As long as they don’t say “Priest.”

Well, right now I’m more concerned about a different kind of digital invasion. Namely, as parents – how do we encourage the responsible use of digital media by our kids while preventing “screen addiction?”

We still have 3 boys at home – 2 teens and an 8-year old. We have TiVo (so glad to no longer be subject to broadcast schedules and commercials!) and Netflix on-demand; a family iMac with all the usual web destinations a click away; a Wii; and each kid has an age-appropriate handheld device.

We’re really not big TV watchers, and my kids aren’t sedentary couch potatoes, but let’s face it – all this stuff can be an endless parade of sight and sound that is an easy default (instead of, say, walking the dog, exercising, reading books – all that boring analog stuff!).

Even Dad has to be reminded at times to put away his iPhone (ahem!).

Now, we don’t want to be rigid and spin out all sorts of rules and timetables and impossible-to-enforce schedules, but at the same time, we need to build SOME fences around this stuff so that it does not overwhelm us entirely. For instance, on the iMac, each child has an account, with a preset time allotment of one hour per day. But that’s just one of the digital conduits!

I’m betting all of you who are parents are struggling with this. How do you handle it (apart from, say, moving to Lancaster County and joining the Amish)? What’s working for your kids/family? Have you figured out strategies to allow healthy use without feeling like you’ve walked onto the set of the Invasion of the Family Snatchers? Please share in the comments!

(Image credit – no, not my kids, but very cute!)

Tables, countertops, footstools, nightstands, dressers, even the dog crates. Everything was covered in clutter. Especially the closets.

A top article on clutter in Google search results comes from AARP’s magazine and its arthur notes:

In Dante’s Inferno there is a circle of Hell reserved for two warring armies, the Hoarders and the Wasters, who spend eternity rolling enormous boulders at each other on a desolate sun-baked plain. The boulders are actually diamonds and represent the possessions they had such unhealthy relationships with during their lives. “Why do you hord?” the Wasters shout. “Why do you waste?” the Hoarders scream back. This repeats, endlessly, joint punishment for their respective sins.

While our clutter does seem a bit hellish at times, in keeping with the rest of my life, it seems hoarding is only one of my many clutter personalities.

Organized Homes says “take aim on your household’s clutter problem by going to the root of the problem: your own thinking.” They outline four types of thinking that lead to clutter:

• The Hoarder who fears they won’t have what they need if they let go of anything.
• The Deferrer who like Scarlett O’Hara prefers to think about it tomorrow.
• The Rebel who is still mad at Mom for making them pick up their room and wash the dishes.
• The Perfectionist who must have the perfect organizer or label system before they’ll even start.

So how to tackle those things we put in between us and our clutter? Good Housekeeping has a neat online tool to help kickstart you. You use drop-down menus to select the portions of your home and room that you want to clean and it provides you with tips specific to that area.

I chose to tackle two closets during my free time this weekend. I gave in to the Perfectionist a bit and bought a few new things to help, but my Deferrer was banished and I told my Hoarder to get over it.

The rooms the closets reside in may be an even bigger mess than they were before, but boy it sure feels good to look in those hidden storage areas now.

Anyone else got the Spring cleaning bug? How do I keep the momentum going to attack the rest of the clutter?

Published in the latest Journal of Personality, the study was a collaboration with scientists from the Université de Montréal, the Université du Québec à Montreal and McGill University. And, according to Yahoo! News LiveScience, the study “focused on what psychologists call autonomy, the basic need to feel like you’re acting based on your own values and desires, not those of others. Controlling parents chip away at their child’s autonomy, by pushing them into a hobby, the researchers say. So when the kid picks up his clarinet it’s not out of a desire to play music, but due to a sense of obligation or a fear of disappointing his parents.”

The morning show hosts were divided about the results, with some pointing out the benefits of parents pushing kids to stick with things like piano lessons.  As one blogger said (in a post with a title I loved - ”They Say: Leave Those Kids Alone“): ”It’s a tough balance for parents to strike. We want our kids to learn the art of perseverance. We don’t want them to quit simply because they aren’t getting their way. Often pushing them to stick with it just another game or practice allows them the chance to finally ‘get’ how to make that jump shot or master ‘Three Blind Mice.’”

Me? I had a total flashback to when I faced that decision a couple of years ago. I blogged here then about my daughter’s desire to quit piano and got a lot of great feedback from our readers.

Today, our daughter’s only extra-curricular is Girl Scouts, but we do continue to make music accessible to her by providing her with instruments to experiment on in her own play (Santa didn’t bring her the full drum set she asked for this year, but compromised with a much smaller digital drum that’s, expectedly, seen a small amount of use). She is still expressing no real passion for an instrument, but does talk about voice lessons. And, very recently, she’s begun to talk about joining a swim team, which seems like a good fit because she is such a fish in our own backyard pool.

So, as we contemplate these activities, I’ll be heading into them with good advice our readers gave me before, and now also scientific study to help me feel better about not pushing too hard. That’s the sort of balance one of the study’s author’s talks about.

“I’m not telling parents to let their kids do whatever they want without limits,” Mageau said. “The most important message is to focus on the child’s interests and not to impose one’s own on them.”

“Balance is bullshit.”

I first heard that epiphany at a women’s conference last fall. Since the Winter Olympics commences for the XXI time on the stage of

Gravity wins every time.

Vancouver in less than 72 hours, I’m sharing it here today.

The connection, you ask? As usual, figure skating events will be among the most watched. Thousands of breathless spectators and a few nitpicky commentators will scrutinize the skaters – especially the women — as they careen, leap and twirl on their millimeter-thin blades over polished frozen water, just waiting for the moment when someone’s barely-skirted butt bites the ice. A collective “oooh” will reverberate around the rink. Commentators will tsk. Judges will downgrade.

Me at home? Every tumble, every oooh, I’ll be cheering at the live example of the pure truth in those three little words: Balance is bullshit.

For years, I bought the BS on balance. Mental health, serenity, contentment – it was just a matter of achieving the right balance. It led to constant self-chatter: “Work’s becoming too consuming. Scale back there, amp up quality time with the kids. OK, balanced work and home life. Wait, what about time for you? Schedule a girls’ night out. OK, now I’ve got it. Oops, exercise has fallen off the wagon. ow Ho

“How about yoga class every other Wednesday? No, the car needs new tires, we really can’t afford it. But what about balance? What price can you put on your mental health? Maybe I can just go to bed earlier. Catch up on my rest. Hey, who’s that strange guy in my bed? Uh-oh, better plan a date night.”

And on and on and on. Another truism: It’s always something - especially for women and even more especially for mothers - that knocks us off balance. Yet we keep chasing the illusion. Achieving balance becomes yet another to-do, not to mention another source of guilt and blame. “It’s my own fault friends are neglected/I bought Valentines for the kids’ school party instead of making them/the home business languishes/fill in the blank…because my life isn’t balanced.”

So to hear that BS busted was empowering, to say the least. It made me recall my last yoga class (some time ago, what with the need

Tree pose

for new tires and all.) Yoga consists of the practice of sets of poses – standing poses, sitting poses, inverted poses, balance poses. According to my instructor, balance poses – another term whose brevity belies the enormity of its truth; what is balance if not a pose? – actually become more difficult later in the day. It’s easier to hold a tree or a flying eagle in the morning than it is in the afternoon, and easier in the afternoon than the evening. I see this reflected in the flow of women’s lives, too. When we’re young, there’s less to balance and it’s easier. As we grow older and take on more commitments, it gets harder. You’d think that’s when we’d ease up on ourselves.

Come Friday’s opening ceremonies, that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll be hopping around my living room, cheerfully trying to regain my tree pose, and cheering when gravity inflicts the inevitable in Vancouver.

Yes, I eventually learned that I should never say never.

But even after deciding there was a place for a child in my life, I didn’t immediately feel comfortable in the role of mom.  Her infant years were hard for me - I ran back to work as soon as maternity leave was over. I wanted to be where I knew how to do my job and people could tell me what they needed (as opposed to me trying to guess what all that crying was about).

To some of you I’m sure that sounds harsh, but I really think it’s a myth that all women naturally have some instinct for mothering.  Instead of being proud, I resented when my husband would say I was better at some element of parenting than he was.  It wasn’t because I had any more practice at it than he had (never did the whole babysitting thing and was the baby of the family). If I was better at something it was because I poured over books, magazines and websites to learn how.  Something he could have just as easily done.

Toddler years had their own challenges. Getting a mug with “World’s Greatest Mom” on it was still far from my idea of success; but, things at least got a little better once she was able to verbalize her needs and wants. This may still sound uncaring, but to the contrary, I began to realize during this time that I had a love for my daughter I couldn’t explain. It runs deeper and more differently than anything else I’ve experienced. Maybe I do have some sort of instinct after all - like the one that means you never want to get between a mother bear and her cub.

That doesn’t mean I didn’t often wish for the days when going out didn’t take the advance planning of lining up a babysitter. I still cringed a bit when someone would call me a mommy blogger even though I blog here about issues related to motherhood. But, I also found myself becoming more vocal about support for girls and representation by women - not for advancing myself, but in the hopes of better things for women of her generation.

Then, an interesting thing happened the other day. I was watching the news with my laptop in, well, my lap and I saw a couple of guys I follow on Twitter mention that they were heading to San Francisco where the weatherman had just said it was going to rain.  So, I tweeted to them about packing an umbrella and David Armano replied “you’re such a mom.”

And I didn’t flinch. There was no cringe. No resentment.

Instead, I replied with another “mom” retort: “And eat your vegetables young man!”

I think maybe, seven years into this mommy gig and entering my fifth generation of life, I might be finally becoming comfortable with the whole “mom” label.

Photo compliments of Leandro Queiroz via Creative Commons.

“Love you, Dad!” Tossed over his shoulder as one of my adult sons headed out.

A simple phrase, really. Easy to tune out or even brush off. Until your kids grow up, that is.

Thinking back, the “I love you’s” flow easily when the kids are young. Then they get older, and it’s not so cool to say it. What was once common becomes rare, replaced by the silent hope that it’s still true. The unspoken is now taken for granted.

You get used to near-silence after a while - uncomfortably reconciling yourself to a season of affections assumed, though your ears miss the words even as your eyes interpret the almost imperceptible gestures. You were there, once, some years back - you know how young men keep it in check. Especially when their budding independence comes up against your not-quite-so-confident-anymore leadership.

Then, as they leave the cocoon into the responsibilities and privileges of adulthood, their parents seem to undergo a metamorphosis as well. No longer a mere “bad cop” figurehead at the helm of a prison ship, or some retro dunce from another planet, those parents transform into human beings again.

Mom and Dad again.

And every “Love you, Dad!” rings that much louder. Makes the moment that much brighter. Means more than the young man can possibly know.

Fame, titles, riches - they all have their place. A pretty distant second place, overall. Every “Love you, Dad!” is pure gold.

Back from a successful 3 months at boot camp, being forged into a United States Marine. Completing a month off to see family and friends over the holidays. Now having the final Dad-breakfast of this chapter of his young life, before heading out tonight for advanced training and a career going who-knows-where in coming years.

It was a young man across the table. So short a time ago, a little tow-headed boy. Now, a strong-jawed Marine, quite a sight when in his dress blues. We looked into the future together, with both confidence and excitement.

For years, we held him close…with the ultimate parental goal of finally letting go.

And as we had a last talk to cap off this stage of the father-son relationship, it was a young man who was thinking responsibly. Aware of his duties, and of the needs of others. Someone for whom I always felt deep love, but now, another, very profound sense was emerging.

Respect. Mutual respect.

This boy had given us a run for our money. Growing him up was definitely not a trouble-free process. There was heartache and grief. But underneath all the teen folly, a young man was lurking, ready to shed the cocoon and fly.

We’re at the launch pad, and this one is fueled up and ready to go. It’s lift-off time. My heart is oscillating wildly with more emotions than I can even identify. My keyboard, even now, is stained with tears.

Go, David - Go. May God bless you.

Love, Dad