The Olympics are upon us and I can't wait to watch everything from soccer and gymnastics to triathlon and cycling. Sitting in front of the screen and watching toned athletes perform at the peak of their ability is incredible and inspiring. I used to dream of becoming a gymnast or synchronized swimmer despite the fact that I barely had any training in either. Instead I became a decent long-distance runner, though never at a level that would have allowed me to dream for a serious athletic career.  

Now that I have little ones, I dream for them. With running genes from both my husband and me, will Munchkin become a runner?  With Monkey's dedication to soccer (he practices on his own all the time), will he become an incredible striker for the USA? It's too early to tell, but commercial's like this one from Proctor & Gamble do make me wonder.   

As a parent, I wonder not only about how a child becomes an Olympian, but how does a family maintain the focus and dedication to help that child become an elite athlete? You hear all these stories about how it's all worth it and how proud the parents are, but what if an exceptional athlete doesn't make the American team? Was it still worth it?  What if parents have mortgaged the house and the kid gets hurt? Was it worth it? Or what if a child is part of a large team, but not the star everyone is talking about? Was it worth it?

I don't know if I wish for the years of sacrifice and hours at the gym or pool or weight room. I don't know if I'd want to send my child to live with another family, just so they can train. And what about the costs--not only the financial ones, but the cost to the rest of the family, the cost of the pressure to perform, the cost of living a life apart from the "regular" families you know. 

I do hope my kids will be athletic and that they find a sport they excel in. Though I admire the success of all those incredible athletes (and envy their abs), I'm not sure my dream for my kids would be to become an Olympic--or even professional--athlete. However, the dreaming will soon be out of my hands. My children are the ones who get to try and learn and sometimes fail at their endeavors until they find the right dream for them.  

What about you?  What do you dream for your child?  Would you want to see your child vie for the gold?  Let me know by adding your comments below.

When Munchkin was seven months old, I needed to sit her down in my bedroom for a few minutes. Since she fiercely resisted my efforts to get her into the bouncy seat, I put her in the bassinet that she no longer used. Monkey came into the room and, after pushing the bassinet around as if it were a train (in his world, everything is a train), he occupied himself with making Munchkin laugh. I turned my back briefly and then was shocked when I saw that Munchkin had pulled herself to standing and exclaimed, "Holy crap!" And just like that, my attempts not to swear in front of Monkey were completely foiled.  

As soon as the words left my mouth, Monkey asked me what I said and why I said it. According to the developmental charts Munchkin's newfound skill was way ahead of schedule (and her teeth generating skills were already behind), so a little shock and awe felt justified.  However, I should have known better. Monkey questions everything that passes my lips ("Why are you sighing?") and then imitates them (Me:  Monkey, put your toys away.  Monkey:  Big sigh).  The only other times I've said anything similar have been under my breath and I've been able to cover by telling him I said, "Oh, snap!" I know there are worse words to say, but when every word heard by a three-year-old is repeated back to you at the least opportune times, a parent needs to tread very very carefully.  

I've learned my lesson, but it might be too late.  It's been about six weeks since I uttered those fateful words and a few days ago, Monkey says to me, "Mami! Look! Munchkin is standing up!"  "Yes, I see." I replied.  Then he looked me in the eyes and with a little grin said, "Holy crap!"

After writing my post, I did see this, courtesy of Bristol Palin.  Somehow, I feel much better. 

Long before I had my own kids, I had an aversion to sitting in front of the tube with children. When I babysat--even as a teenager--I did not let my little charges watch TV. I was with them for such a short time and believed it was my job to devote to them the energy that many sleep-deprived parents lacked.

Now, as my three-year-old and his friends have grown, I've found more and more small children who watch TV regularly. Some watch only at night, some before and after school, and some have the TV on all day long. As I listen to other parents describe their kids' TV-watching schedule, I've realized that TV has become my, "thing." The one* thing I really want to limit. I cringe when I see spaced-out toddlers staring at either a TV or at the myriad of gadgets with videos. Because I feel so strongly about TV-viewing, I've been trying to figure out what it is about TV that bugs me so much.  

I don't think TV is bad and evil. I don't think watching some will make my children behave abominably--or at least any more abominably than they would without TV as an influence. I also don't think kids who watch a lot of TV are going to be unintelligent or boring.  What I do think is that TV becomes a habit. If I let my three-year-old son Monkey watch one episode (of the one show we let him watch) via OnDemand, he immediately begs for another one. Then he begs for it repeatedly the next day but as more days pass between viewings, he forgets to ask for the show at all. 

More important than not watching TV is what kids are doing instead. Instead of watching TV, my son is playing with his trains, building towers, playing with his sister, talking to my husband and me, and asking us to read him books. Sometimes he's annoying the heck out of me, but I feel that's a fair price to pay in exchange for him not turning into a starry-eyed blob on my couch. He is learning to redirect his energy, he is learning to be creative, he is learning that he can survive being bored and find an alternative that is not TV.  Having the TV off also forces me to take action and to play actively with my kids and to take them outside, no matter how lazy I feel.  

I know many (the majority?) of parents feel differently about TV and I understand that, just as I hope they understand (tolerate?) me. I'm aware of the educational TV shows and videos, but I'm also aware of the studies that show zero benefits to kids under the age of two watching them. Until the age of eight, kids don't understand that commercials are trying to sell them something and kids under the age of six can't tell the difference between a commercial and a TV show (I've heard that from many sources, but I found it here today: How TV Affects Your Child).

With all that information in mind, I'm going to continue to limit the amount of TV Monkey watches now and Munchkin  watches in the future, which means that TV will continue to be my "thing" for a while longer.

*I also feel strongly about making food at home and discipline, but TV is a biggie!

There is a fantastic article entitled 10 Things I Want My Daughter To Know Before She Turns 10 by Lindsay Mead Russell offering spot-on advice to young girls (and boys).  It frees kids from feeling they have to please everyone, gives them a voice and permission to pull away from their parents as they get older. I find most of it to be relevant and empowering. However, the part that saddens (and annoys and frustrates) me is her tenth and final comment, which starts with:  "I know I'm not good enough and not the mother you deserve."

What? This mother just wrote a thoughtful piece that has likely been forwarded to parents across the country so that they too may instill confidence in their children, and yet she "knows" she's not a good enough mother? Where is her confidence? Why is she not a good enough mother?  What about her is not worthy of the kids she is raising? Who is defining the "better" mother they deserve? I doubt her daughter thinks she deserves another mother?  
 
Mothers (and all humans) are not perfect beings, nor are they meant to be Motherhood is about trial and error, but part of being a good mother is trying and trying again. Trying to be patient, trying not to yell after the 100th whine, maybe trying to cook more, trying to loosen up, trying to enjoy your kids. Every mother has her battles, the difference is that they vary in degrees. When it comes to eating healthier, to one mother that means eating less fast food, while to another mother that means eating less white flour. Both noble goals, both good enough.  

I don't know Russell, but judging her solely on this article, I think she is an incredible mother. A mother who has already weeded out the silly stuff one worries about and who, like all mothers, wants to spare her daughter the heartache, time, and energy of focusing on those concerns. She is precisely the mother her daughter deserves.  No mothers are perfect, but as we all strive to be better beings, we are indeed good enough. 

When many adults start thinking about having children they often say there are a few things they want to do first. They want to earn more money or buy a house or travel the world. This is my advice to them:  go use the bathroom. Stay there as long as you want. Maybe even do some reading or daydreaming while there. Enjoy the moment. Savor it. Because once that little bundle arrives at your doorstep, you will never use the bathroom alone again. 

When Monkey first arrived, I would sometimes bring him with me because he was crying or would start crying if I put him down. I'd put him the bouncy seat while I showered or even his baby bath tub (without water in it) because he liked sitting and clanging his toys. Surely, I thought, this will be temporary.  But as he got older, he'd commando-crawl his way in or come looking for me as if I'd been gone for 10 days instead of 10 seconds.  Then came potty-training where I'd help him get settled and he would want me to stay.  Eventually he'd look at me and say, "Bye-bye" dismissing me from his royal throne.  He would sit in peace and "read" his books or our magazines for long, quite stretches.  

Alas, when I run away for my two minutes of peace, Monkey still follows me for a chat or an endless game of, "Why?"  His little sister Munchkin also joins in for double the fun. I'm not sure when they will tire of accompanying me to the loo, but it is a day I will celebrate with a toast and a sigh of relief. (When they are grumpy teenagers who want nothing to do with me, maybe I will miss them needing me so much that they follow me to a damp, windowless room, but not right now.)

So to all you parents attempting to create or adopt your beloved first child, please take a moment or two and enjoy the silence you hear in the bathroom. If you're lucky, it will be short-lived. 

At the playground, this is what I hear a lot of, "Jimmy*, we're going to go home in five minutes, okay?"  "Sally, you shouldn't hit your brother, okay?"  "Bobby, putting dirt in your mouth is not okay, okay?"  It drives me bananas.  Why are these parents asking for agreement from their toddlers? I know I do it myself, but it has to stop.  I understand wanting to know if your child has heard you, but every "okay" I hear at the end of a sentence undermines everything that has been said.  It's less of a directive and more a request if, perhaps, the child in question doesn't mind obeying.

I know we are not drill sergeants, but last I checked, parents are supposed to give directives.  They are supposed to tell their children what is not safe, fair or kind, not ask them.  Half the time, the kids ignore (or laugh at) their parents' statements and I wonder if that would be different if parents just spoke more firmly.  Of course, I can't test that theory properly because almost everyone I know ends their sentence with "okay."

The last few paragraphs of the (snootily titled, yet interesting) article Why French Parents Are Superior touches upon this as well.  The French woman is recommending firmness and I bet that the American mother was saying, "Don't run outside the gate, okay?"  If that is the case, then it's good news.  That means that we don't have to be French to be superior, we just have to stop asking our kids to do as we say and start telling them.  Okay?

*My neighborhood is so diverse that I have yet to meet a kid named Jimmy, Sally or Bobby at the playground.  They sound like imaginary kids from the 1950s.