Playing House - by Jamie

When I was a child, I fondly remember playing “house” with a good girl friend of mine. She always took on the role of the mommy, and I was the little girl. I don’t recall what situations we acted out while pretending to be a family, but I do know that this was one of our favorite games to play. Sometimes, another little girl in the neighborhood with whom we occasionally played—but didn’t completely adore—would show up uninvited during our role-playing, and we grudgingly included her. While my friend and I happily continued our game in my bedroom, our not-so-bright neighbor sat out in the hallway with a pile of crayons and coloring books that we’d supplied her with to occupy her time. When anyone else in my house questioned us about why this girl was sitting out in the hallway while we were playing, we responded matter-of-factly, “She’s the daddy—she’s at work!”

Decades later, my own daughter, Jayda, is obsessed with “being the mommy,” while she forces other adults—mostly me, but sometimes my father or mother—into playing the role of the baby. Sometimes this is a pleasure, like when she has me, as her baby, take a nap while she rubs my back, or when she insists I have to “rest” while she reads a book to me. But the pleasure is short-lived because she generally also wants to stuff a binky in my mouth, or have me “’tend” to suck on her doll’s bottle. And when I complain, she eggs me on with instructions to “cry, baby, cry!” She also demands that I cry when she’s leaving me, and enjoys it when I beg her to stay with me and cuddle.

When I’m not playing baby on the couch or in bed, Jayda likes to take me shopping with her; this entails holding my hand while she totes several pocketbooks and bags filled with her toys all around the house and barks out a list of things we need to buy. On other occasions, I’m forced to walk with her to another room, where she leaves me “at school” while she “goes to work.” When I complain about going to school, she assures me that my teachers are nice and that I’ll have fun with my friends. It all sounds very familiar.

I’ve always found it remarkable how much information my child retains, and how careful I have to be about the things I say and do in front of Jayda, or the promises that I make to her, because she remembers everything. And when Jayda pretends to be a mommy, I see her keen skills of observation at play more clearly than ever. Most everything she knows about being a mommy, she’s learned from me. And for what it’s worth, she’s a very loving, affectionate, comforting mommy when I test her and complain or cry. But she’s also a busy mommy, and a reminder to me that sometimes I need to slow down.

For instance, the other day, while Jayda was in her “mommy-mode,” and laden with bags strewn over each of her arms, I told her it was time for dinner. She responded, “Not yet. I’m going somewhere!” When I queried “where?” she spewed out a laundry list of destinations that sounded very similar to my own day’s activities: “I have to go to CVS and the fruit store and the store where I get protein bars, and then I have to get gas, go to the bank, and go to the gym.” When I laughed and said “Is that all?”, she quickly added “I also have to meet my friend at the playground.” Well, thankfully, at least this little mommy is letting herself have some fun!

GUEST BLOG POST: Daddy Will Fix It: Facing Consequences - by Dr. Jenn Berman

When you help your children understand at an early age that they are responsible for the choices they make as well as for the consequences of their actions, you promote a sense of mastery and self-confidence in them.

One of the most difficult tasks for parents is allowing their kids to suffer the consequences of their choices and actions. But in order for children to grow up to become responsible adults, they need to know how to deal with these kinds of consequences. It is a crucial developmental step for them to take.

Mark, a college student, was sent to me by his parents because they were concerned about his pot smoking and poor grades. Mark, who was clearly very bright and got fantastic SAT scores, was completely unmotivated. He attended an expensive private college with a great academic reputation. When I asked him what he planned to do after college he told me he would go to law school.

“How are you going to get into law school?” I asked him. “You are barely passing your classes right now, and law school is highly competitive.”
“My dad has connections. He can buy me a spot in at least three of the top schools,” he told me.

Apparently Mark’s dad had already bought his son’s way into his current school. Up to that point, Mark had never had to face any of the consequences of his actions. If he forgot his homework his mother brought it, if he forgot his lunch the maid brought it, if he forgot to feed his goldfish and it died he was given a new fish. Now mom and dad were still getting him out of trouble, and at the age of nineteen Mark had no life skills, no discipline, and no motivation. Had Mark suffered the consequences of his actions at an earlier age, he would have learned to apply himself. Adversity leads to growth. If you allow your children to suffer the consequences of bad choices, they will learn to make better choices. Protecting kids from those kinds of consequences only retards their ability to develop into responsible adults.

Excerpted from the book The A to Z Guide to Raising Happy, Confident Kids © copyright 2007 by Dr. Jenn Berman. Reprinted with permission from New World Library. www.NewWorldLibrary.com

Dr. Jenn Berman is a Marriage, Family and Child Therapist in private practice in Los Angeles. She is the author of the Los Angeles Times best-selling book The A to Z Guide to Raising Happy Confident Kids which won the Mom’s Choice Award gold medal in parenting. She is also the author of SuperBaby: 12 Ways to Give Your Child a Head Start in the First 3 Years and the co-author of the children’s book Rockin’ Babies. Her “Dr. Jenn” parenting column runs in Los Angeles Family Magazine and elsewhere and won a Parenting Publications of America award. She is also on the Board of Advisors for Parents Magazine. Dr. Jenn has appeared on television including The Oprah Winfrey Show, The Today Show, The Early Show, etc. She currently hosts a call-in advice show on Sirius/XM’s Cosmo Radio. Dr. Jenn has an eco-friendly clothing line for adults and children called Retail Therapy. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband and twin daughters. For more information, visit http://www.DoctorJenn.com.

Is Yelling the New Spanking? by Cara

I was forwarded an article by a friend this week, written by a New York Times columnist about whether American parents believe yelling at their children is considered what spanking used to be back in the 50s, 60, and to a certain degree, the 70s.

The article shouted practically a unanimous, “yes,” with evidence backed up by child psychology researchers and interviews with parents. Most of the evidence indicated that the same parents who would “never” spank their children, use yelling as a means to get their point across instead. In fact, one blogger admitted on her blog, “I am a screamer. I’m a Mom that screams, shouts and loses it in front of my kids and feel like I’m revealing a dark family secret.”

This may not be so far from the truth. My own parents never spanked me. However my father used to bellow so loudly at me at the smallest of infractions, it almost felt like a spanking. In fact, a spanking might have hurt less at times.

I personally have never spanked my son and have yelled at him only once (not including screaming for him to wait at a corner until I get there so as not to get run over). Every other time, I give myself a time out. I go to another room, lock the door, put earplugs in and listen to calming music for 5 minutes. I’ve been known to put my toddler in a playpen and walk around the house a few times. And on a couple rare instances, I handed my husband the baby, grabbed my car keys and my wallet and drove around the neighborhood for 30 minutes or so.

So what are these experts and researchers trying to tell us? And what really is a frustrated, ready to blow parent supposed to do? According to the New York Times article, both psychologists and psychiatrists generally say yelling should be avoided. At best, it is ineffective (the more you do it, the more the child tunes you out) and at worse, it can be damaging to a child’s sense of well-being and self-esteem. As one researcher put it, “If someone yelled at you at work, you’d find that pretty jarring.” Furthermore, if the tone of the yelling denotes anger, insult, or sarcasm, a child can perceive it as parental rejection.

The bottom line message through this article is: Don’t yell. Easier said than done. But there are strategies to prevent situations from escalating into the “Yell-o-sphere.” One strategy, as I’ve mentioned and used is to give yourself the time-out. Go into another room and scream into a pillow if need be! Be proactive, let young ones know that a transition will be coming soon and repeat it in intervals. Make sure the school age child has the backpack filled the night before. Tell your young ones that going into a store is where the parent makes the purchases, not the child. I personally go shopping while my son is in school. If I were not able to do that, I would forgo sleep and do grocery shopping at 10:00 pm. But that’s just me!

The experts suggest figuring out your own ways to prevent situations that make you most prone to yell. And take a deep breath before the words come out. There, unfortunately, will always be those moments where you just don’t know how to handle certain situations. You’ll blow, but an apology is usually recommended. And you can always do what I do if I know my husband is in a bad mood and may explode. I’ll say to my son, “Honey, just don’t make Daddy mad.” My son knows EXACTLY what that means! Then we BOTH stay away!

Who Needs a Husband? I Need My Mommy and Daddy! by Jamie Levine

To be a successful single mom (or at least a sane one!), you really need a good support system: Friends or family whom you can lean on when you’re in a clinch. And, most importantly, they must be people whom both you and your child like and trust. In my case, those people are my mom and dad.

I’m not always comfortable asking for help when I need it. This is a weakness I’ve been working on ever since Jayda was born, but I haven’t yet overcome it. While I’m blessed to have a lot of wonderful friends, it’s never easy for me to ask one of them to watch Jayda when I have to be somewhere else. But my mom and dad? I’ll ask them in a heartbeat. When I need to go to the city for a meeting and it runs late, my parents pick Jayda up from daycare. When I want to go to the gym on a weekend morning, my dad happily entertains Jayda while I’m gone. And when I have a date—with a man, or even just a girlfriend for a glass of wine—my mom and dad are there to listen to the baby monitor while Jayda snoozes.

But what about when they’re not around? Ugh. Only hours after my parents had left for a week-long trip to Vermont, my car started acting up and I was told by my mechanic that I needed to take it to the dealership…a 30-minute drive away. When I made my appointment at the dealership, they told me they’d drive me home after I left my car there, but they had no loaner cars. Huh? I could drop my car off on Tuesday morning right after I took Jayda to daycare. But what if the car wasn’t fixed by the time I had to pick her up? Or worse…what if it would take an extra day to fix it (that day being a Wednesday—the day Jayda is home with me)? How would I pick up my repaired car with Jayda in tote? And, well, simply, how would I deal with being stranded at home for two days?

I wanted to call my mom on her cell phone and cry. But what on earth could she do? She was halfway to Vermont already. And besides, I was supposed to be a “grown up.” Heck, I’m a mom, myself! So, instead, I panicked alone. Binged on gummi bears (the ones I give Jayda to encourage her potty training). Gave myself a migraine. And then, I did what I should have done first: I picked up the phone.

First, I called Jayda’s daycare to see if Jayda could stay later on Tuesday, if necessary. Affirmative. Then, I called a friend whom we had plans with on Wednesday and told her I wasn’t sure we’d be able to make it…everything depended on when I’d get my car back. She immediately offered to come over and watch Jayda if I needed her to—and also suggested we move the play date closer to my house. Wonderful!

That evening, I vented to another friend, who said she’d be in my neighborhood on Wednesday and that she’d love to watch Jayda—or give me a ride somewhere if I needed it. Oh, I love my friends! And on Tuesday morning, as I pulled out of my driveway to take Jayda to daycare, my neighbor waved at us and asked how I was. I mentioned my impending trip to the dealership and she told me she’d be around both Tuesday evening and Wednesday morning if I needed her help. Thank you, neighbor!

Suddenly the unsettled feeling I’d been having ever since I’d spoken to my mechanic disappeared. Everything was going to be ok. And you know what? I took my car to the dealership and they asked if I wanted to wait while they repaired my car. Wait? A whole day? Oh, no. The repairs took 45 minutes and I was back home in time to go to the gym and get all my work done before I had to pick Jayda up from daycare (without the extended hours). Go figure. I guess I don’t need my mom and dad, after all. Well…at least not this week while they’re on vacation!

The Day Camp Dilemma: Part II -- by Cara Meyers

This Week: My husband had decided to take the Day Camp Dilemma challenge and see whether he could do a better job at preparing my son for Day Camp each day. Here are the results, as promised.

Monday: I had a feeling that the camp challenge was off to a bad start when ten minutes before the bus was to come, my son was still in his pajamas and the backpack wasn’t packed. I went into my husband’s office and said, “I presume you are driving our son to camp.” He asked why and I mentioned the above. Well, you’d have thought the house was on fire because my husband tore through the house, issuing orders to my son, throwing him clothes (which didn’t include his camp t-shirt), and frantically trying to get my son out the door.

When I noticed that my husband was ready to leave the house with an empty backpack (except for the ignored sunscreen at the bottom), I reminded my husband that my son needed lunch. My husband’s idea of “lunch” was a plain bagel, nothing on it, thrown into my son’s lunch tote. I asked, “Don’t you think he’ll be thirsty?” He threw in a bottle of water too. I handed my husband the towel, swim wear, water shoes, and camp shirt as he was walking out the door. All I got was a very flustered, stressed out look. And yes, my son had to be driven to camp.

Tuesday: My son has to bring his own tennis racket on Tuesdays because the children get tennis instruction on those days. He also typically will wear street clothes to camp, since tennis and other non-swimming activities are done in the morning. My husband evidently did not look at the schedule posted on our kitchen cabinet (does he even KNOW there is a schedule posted on our kitchen cabinet?!), because he dressed my son in his swimwear, gathered street clothes (but forgetting the underwear), and threw the camp shirt over my son’s swim wear (he remembered the precious camp shirt!). He packed my son a slightly better lunch (turkey sandwich and water bottle), however I still had to hand my husband the towel to put into the backpack. While he was leaving, without my son’s tennis racket, I called out, “I think you need to check the camp schedule before you leave.” He replied, “Where’s the camp schedule?” I said, “On the kitchen cabinet. It’s the brightly colored paper with all of the camp activities of the day. There is something you need to bring with you on Tuesdays.” He ran back into the house, sweat dripping down his face, frantically looking for the appropriate date and day, and read that our son would be having tennis. He ran outside, opened the garage, found the tennis racket, and raced with my son to the car. My son missed the bus...again.

By Tuesday night, I subtlely suggested my husband consider getting everything ready for camp the night before, therefore avoiding the stress and frustration he experienced the two days prior. He did look at the sheet that night and was MUCH more prepared by Wednesday morning! So prepared, that he let me sleep a little longer! And the only item he had to rush with was the lunch (he even added fruit!).

All-in-all, I must say, “Bravo!,” to my husband. He really had the system down by Thursday and Friday! I think the most important lesson my husband learned was preparation ahead of time, and “learning” the routine. A wife who did the laundry each night certainly was helpful. Most importantly though, was having this wife hand you what you “forgot” as you raced out the back door! That certainly didn’t hurt either!

Daddies, Daddies, Everywhere! by Jamie Levine

My daughter is a morning person. A very early morning person. Without fail, Jayda is up at 5 a.m. every day--wide awake. And, by default, so am I. Since most of our friends and activities aren't available until the "late" morning hour of 10 or 11 a.m. on the weekends, I've become quite knowledgeable about places that open early, where I can take Jayda and keep her occupied.

Our first stop on Saturday mornings is the bagel store. Every week, without fail, we're there at 6 a.m. to grab "our table." While Jayda works on a mini-bagel with cream cheese, and the staff (who know us well), and the customers (who dote on Jayda), keep her attention, I sip a cup of coffee, and sit patiently for an hour before we go food shopping at 7 a.m. when the supermarket opens.

Jayda is a true "people person" and loves to watch and engage everyone from teenagers to senior citizens. She's also a big flirt. And from a very early age I realized that my daughter LOVES men. As a baby, she'd coo at the busboys when we went to the diner, and bat her eyelashes at our pediatrician during her check ups. When she started her gymnastics class at 18 months, she almost immediately threw herself into the lap of our attractive male instructor. And whenever one of our older male neighbors wanders down the street, she stops everything she's doing and races over to him for a hug.

I've always joked that Jayda is going to introduce me to my future husband. With her big, blue eyes, Shirley Temple curls, and charismatic personality, she really is a man-magnet. However, because all of the men she sees at daycare picking up their children are called "daddies" by her teachers, she's been trained to think that all men are "daddies”—from pimple-faced teenagers to old, wrinkled seniors. Thus, whenever a new male customer enters our bagel store on Saturday mornings, Jayda becomes delighted and yells, "A daddy!" or worse, "Daddy's here!"Sometimes I murmur back to her, "Well, maybe he's a daddy..."

Sometimes I even catch a smirking man's eye and ask him out loud, "Are you a daddy?" just to acknowledge Jayda's observation. Fortunately, I've been assured by several of my married friends that many children call men "daddies" and women "mommies" at this age. But I suspect that single mothers are more sensitive to their children’s use of this word. And, of course, I can’t help but wonder sometimes if Jayda wishes one of those daddies she’s greeting would come home with us.

Then, there are the times Jayda reaches into my pocketbook and I ask her what she’s looking for. “A daddy,” she replies—as she tries to find my wallet. What she really wants is a dollar bill to put in her piggy bank. A piece of paper with George Washington’s face—or a “daddy”—on it. And I realize that for Jayda, “daddy” is just a word. For now.