I write a column for the Daily Hampshire Gazette and some people have come here looking for copies, so here they are. Thanks for reading!

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Doing wrong by making right?
Thursday, January 12, 2012

I am a professional who works with children. I know everything about how to handle their moods, how to motivate them, how to make a roomful of kids get along with each other peacefully. I have a master’s degree in education. And yet, when my oldest son throws a fit, I have no idea what to do.

It’s the most painful thing in the world for a parent to see their child suffering. I can handle any physical pain like a champ (well, I might pass out a little). But when my child is sad I’m completely lost.

I’ve had more than a few reminders of this now that we’re playing two winter sports. Even when my son has a good game he can come home and find fault with his performance and rarely see the good things he did for his team. So you can imagine what he does when he’s had a bad game.

But just in case you can’t imagine it, I’ll tell you. After storming out of the facility, sulking all the way home, and hiding under a blanket, he grabs a battle axe (Nerf), starts bashing the punching bag with it, and I actually have to use tae kwon do moves I’ve stolen from them to deflect the axe and reach around to grab him and hug him. Then he writhes and spins away and continues to mope about the issue.

But why am I up in his face? I have no restraint. Any time he has a problem I’m relentless, trying to give him a hundred ways to fix it. If it was my younger son I would know exactly what to do. Just go into listening mode: “That must be really hard. What can we do about it?”

If he was too angry I’d walk away and let him handle it. Of course, he takes hardship a little differently than his brother. He drapes himself on me like a blanket and says, “Mommy, I’m sad,” and lets me hug and hold him until his tears are done.

So I don’t get to practice my awesome stress-handling skills with him as often as my older son. When I complain to my mentor, Carol, that I keep messing it up with him, she asks, “Amy, which child is he?” and I know exactly what she means.

We make all the mistakes with our firstborn. And hopefully we learn a lot from them, but we forget to use our skills with them because…why? Is it birth order? Personality? They carry the expectations of their parents? When he’s upset, I just get into some crazy mama bear mode that I can’t resist even when I recognize it and try to snap out of it.

Still, I can try to fix those mistakes and handle his anger better after the next blowout soccer match. If I can just remember what to do when I see him curled up in that ball, ashamed to show his face to the world and blaming himself for every bad thing that happened, and all I want to do is make it right for him.

My friends give me all the advice I would give to any other parent in my situation: You can’t change how he feels. Just let him get over it. Be there, listen, support. Just keep shaking your head Yes and let him say whatever he needs to get it out. Or let him go hide in his room and come out when he’s ready, and DON’T MENTION IT again until he does. Stop making such a big deal out of it. Know that he’ll get over it, and he needs to learn the coping skills for how to do that.

So the bottom line is, no matter how hard we try to train ourselves, all the parenting books we read and the advice we hear, we still sometimes have blinders when it comes to our own children. We cannot resist the actual physical pull that we still feel to rush to their aid when they need us. And that’s OK. But the next time he’s beating something with an axe, I’m just going to stay out of the way until it’s over.

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Steps that can protect children from abuse
Thursday, December 8, 2011

My last column about the Penn State sex abuse case (“Sports legacies vs. the law,” Nov. 18) generated enough of a response that I felt the topic needed more attention. It seems many people want to understand more, are curious about how to help and are concerned they wouldn’t know how to respond if faced with reporting alleged sexual abuse.

Some readers were upset about the language used by the media – that terms such as “performing sexual acts on” or “sexual assault” can hint at consensual sex, rather than rape. We should be clear that no part of any sexual act performed on or by a child can be consensual.

Many who got in touch pointed out that reporting a predator is easier said than done. Unless we actually see the act being perpetrated, we can be afraid to accuse someone, knowing that if we are wrong, we would severely damage the life and reputation of someone who may be innocent.

And even if we did see it happening, the shock might be enough that we couldn’t respond at all, rather than responding the right way. We all have an incredible capacity for denial. We want to give people the benefit of the doubt. No one wants to see a hero or loved one brought down.

Wayne McNeil of Respect Group Inc. says part of the problem is that “people are not given the right tools to deal with the bad people … to look over their shoulder, see something and say ‘that just didn’t feel right.’”

The first step is to trust your instincts. Then work on gaining the confidence to know that you could do what needs to be done.

Predators know how to hide in plain sight and rely on others to look away. It is sad to recognize that when a case like this happens, it’s often the people we trusted the most. Chronic abusers work slowly to build trust within the family of their victim. They will test to see how far they can go with a child by touching, telling secrets and sometimes shaming or threatening.

They watch to see how the child reacts and if their parents or caregivers will respond.

How do we recognize abuse? The difficult part of recognizing sexual abuse is that many of the symptoms of a child who is being victimized (mood swings, fear, refusal to eat, keeping secrets) are the same ones that can be displayed during any stressful time in their lives. Others are more obvious, such as refusing to get undressed, an expanded sexual vocabulary, refusal to talk about a new friend, viewing themselves as “dirty” or “bad,” or engaging in sexual play that is inappropriate for their age. If you have suspicions, keep a journal of your observations and reach out for help from a professional.

Be aware of adults in a position of power who seem to be overly interested in children. Red flags include not respecting personal space or physical boundaries, telling inappropriate sexual jokes or commenting on body development, keeping secrets with and calling or texting the child, giving gifts or always offering to babysit or take the child on outings.

What can we do to help prevent abuse? Talk to kids about what’s appropriate. Involve the whole family in the discussion, and be honest. Don’t be squeamish because the topic is sensitive. Be open about the names of body parts, what is considered normal sexual behavior and setting boundaries and limits over who is allowed to touch your body and when.

Empower your children. Teach them they have the right to say “no” to any adult who makes them feel uncomfortable. And most importantly, tell them they can defend themselves. Teach them how to fight back or get away from someone who is hurting them.

Children are raised to behave and listen to grownups, and a predator can play on this. Sometimes parents can be complicit in this behavior, for instance by making a child hug an uncle who makes them uncomfortable. If your child shows resistance to being with someone, follow their lead and give them the power to control what happens to their body.

Be careful about your own response when talking to your child about sexuality, especially if and when your child confides in you. Listen attentively without responding in an emotional way. If your response is an overreaction, they may not feel comfortable opening the discussion again. Listen, let it sit, walk away if you have to, and compose a healthy response before returning to the conversation.

Finally, know where to turn if you need help. The Valley-based organization Stop It Now has excellent information and resources. Keep your eyes and ears open and follow the advice of professional hockey player (and victim of sexual abuse) Sheldon Kennedy: “Trust your gut.” The best way to shine a light on an unspeakable crime is by getting it out in the open.

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Sports legacies vs. the law
Friday, November 18, 2011

Americans have a strange relationship with our sports heroes. We forgive drunk driving, spousal abuse, firing guns in public, drug use and various other offenses all in the name of not tarnishing a hero’s reputation. But it is possible that we’ve finally reached the point of saying “enough is enough” when the alleged offense involves children being raped.

This wasn’t an accusation or a whispered rumor. We are informed that it was a witnessed act. The failure on all levels of someone – anyone – in the Penn State organization to simply act like a decent person was astounding.

Here’s what you do when you see the most violating of all acts being done to a child: You call the police.

And if someone else saw it and told you about it but failed to take action themselves: You call the police.

You don’t weigh your options, or think about your legacy, or worry about your position in the organization. You call the police.

Imagine what would happen if this incident occurred in any arena other than a successful college football program. In a summer camp. A scouting group. Your child’s school. Take these circumstances out of the realm of “Joe Paterno’s legacy at Penn State” and think about what should have been done.

I don’t care if you’re Joe Paterno. I don’t care if you’ve coached for 50 years. I don’t care if you’re worried about your friend’s reputation. I don’t care if you have designs on being the next coach and are willing to throw a child under the bus in order to keep those aspirations alive. You protect children who are being violated. If you don’t, you’re nothing more than an accomplice.

And I have to wonder, even if you’re caught in the middle of a cover-up of this proportion, how do you, as a human being, stand next to a person who you know has committed such an unspeakable act and pretend that everything’s OK?

Our sports idolatry begins early. At a peewee football game this fall I was stunned by how ridiculously the adults were behaving. One fifth-grade boy, a nice kid and decent athlete but still an 11-year-old child, ran for a touchdown. The grown men in the audience were screaming their heads off and couldn’t wait to get a piece of him. “Turn around! Let me get your picture!”

I could see the look on the boy’s face. He was excited that he’d done this great thing, and a bit bemused by the adulation being heaped on him. He seemed confused that grownups were all clamoring to congratulate him, and was realizing that this was a very good thing. In that moment, during a beautiful fall day on a football field, this boy learned that all he has to do is keep scoring and people are going to worship him.

In our culture a great athlete is very quickly going to find themselves above the law. We create monsters and are then shocked when they behave like monsters. If you treat someone as an idol for most of their lives, what other outcome can you expect?

I have a message for the scores of people rushing to the defense of these men. Being good at sports does not make you a god. Having a winning legacy does not allow you to protect a sociopath. And regret does nothing for the little boys who you allowed to be attacked.

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One mom’s sick day reflections
Thursday, October 13, 2011

I lost my voice last week and started writing about how amusing it was to lose my voice and try to run a day care center. Ha ha, it is SO hilarious when kids are climbing on things and you can’t even tell them to get down!

And then that little sore throat turned into pneumonia.

I’ve had pneumonia before and know enough not to mess with it. I went right to the doctor, got my meds, came home and laid down.

I had to close the day care for two days. On the first day, all I had to do was get my younger son to school and then I could crash. Those alone and quiet hours were so sweet, but the boys came home from school and I had to function again.

Surprisingly, the afternoon was amazing. As soon as the boys got home they had a snack and we did their homework. We talked about the day and prepared their backpacks for tomorrow. We even baked brownies. (What?!) I made a nice dinner for my husband and it was ready to be served a few minutes after he got home. All the laundry was washed (not folded, let’s not get crazy now), and we unbelievably had time to play not one, but two board games after dinner.

This was sublime to me! Heaven! No rushing around, cleaning for what feels like hours, throwing together a lame dinner, then doing homework until bedtime and hearing the whining of the boys who didn’t get to finish watching their show because we’re always behind no matter how we try to get ahead. It was a happy, leisurely, calm night in the serenity of home.

This perfect day got me thinking about the stay-at-home moms of the ’50s and ’60s who were so desperate to break out. I’ve always wondered about their ennui and tried to understand why it would be so bad to stay home and clean up while my husband had to face the soul-draining office work.

I suppose it was because they didn’t have the option to work. I don’t have the option not to work. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, it just is. We live with the hand we’re dealt.

By the second sick day I was itching for something to do. I have the whole day ahead! I could run to the drug store and create a little get well soon package for my mother-in-law, who needs hip surgery next week, and mail it today. I could sort the boys’ schoolwork into storage boxes, flip their summer clothes for winter ones, and organize their bookshelf. I could clean the bathrooms!

But I was getting way ahead of my pneumonia. Just going upstairs left me winded. So instead I took a hot bath and made Spaghettios. I caught up on Season 7 of “The Office” (what happened after Jim & Pam had the baby? Did they jump the shark?). Even my plans to simply go sit outside in the sun and get some fresh air didn’t happen. Nope. Couch. TV. Tea. Done.

Still, the pull of everything I should be doing kept calling me. Wouldn’t it be nice if I didn’t have to work? If I was a ’50s mom, I’d come up with fun dinners. The boys would be well-cared for every day, with all the personal attention they need, instead of having instructions yelled to them while I feed other kids snack. My house would be organized and my projects done. I’d be able to scrub that nasty cabinet above the stove clean.

And at some point during that scrubbing, I’m sure the thought would cross my mind: Why me? Why is it my job to stay home and scrub the damn cabinet when a monkey could do it, and there is so much more to me?

I went back to the grind though I was afraid of how I’d keep up. And I knew at the end of the day when the dishes weren’t done and the projects piled up that if I didn’t have a full-time job, in my house, things might run a little smoother. I’m not a failure, I do my best, my family is happy, and I can’t be held to the standards of a world that doesn’t exist anymore. I just have to keep my head above water.

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Just one more chocolate croissant…
Thursday, September 15, 2011

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Life after ‘nick of time’ baby
Thursday, September 8, 2011

I’m feeling really old today and it’s all Beyonce’s fault. I heard the big news that she was pregnant. I’m not that into pop culture, but it was everywhere this morning.

But then they said she wanted to have kids by the time she was 30 and she’s just going to make it. Then I got interested because that was me. I wanted them by 30 and had my first just in the nick of time (my husband, the procrastinator).

And now that baby is going to middle school. And oh yeah, I’m not in my thirties anymore. I’m only starting to feel 40 more than nine months into it. I guess it took some time to sink in. And now it’s sunk: into my sore shoulder, my bad knee, my aching feet…

I just saw an article about how MTV is having its 30th anniversary. Zoink? And when MTV got started, President Obama was still a teenager. I had no idea I was that close in age to the president. And wait, I’m not supposed to be NEARLY as old as the president.

Then I noticed a 10-year reunion of “The Lord of the Rings” movie cast and thought, no way. Why do they look so old? They’re not cute little hobbits anymore. I remembered the day we handed the baby boy off to our friend so we could have our first date away from him, to see that movie. And how I went even though I had a splitting headache because I was desperate to get out of the house and have a few hours away from a nursing baby.

And then I saw someone’s home video of their baby who was born at the same time as mine, and the footage was actually grainy. The fashions were old. How can this be? I remembered being my son’s age, looking back at my own baby pictures and thinking, God, that was FOREVER ago. Look at those plaid pants and sideburns. Was it forever ago?

But I am grateful that I had my kids in this decade, because I’m old enough to really appreciate it. To see how time passes and know that I need to soak up these moments with my boys. If I’d had them in my twenties they would’ve just been caught up in the rush. The thirties is when we slow down and savor. And the forties, well, I guess that’s when we start to ache.

The baby boy said goodbye to me and marched himself off to the bus stop for the first time last week – alone. He insisted no parents and we let him go with confidence. I wasn’t even sad. Then my younger one wanted to be picked up at the end of his first day of school by his brother instead of me.

There are times like these when my kids choose their brother over me and of course I get a bit miffed (though I am so grateful that they like each other). A wise friend of mine once said that “siblings need each other. You need someone to gang up on your parents with.”

So I let my first baby walk the second one home from school. Luckily my youngest chose me for pickup the next day so I felt loved once again. (I don’t know if he really wanted me or was just trying to be fair by giving us each a turn.)

I saw some moms leaving school on the first day with tears in their eyes and thought, for the first time that’s NOT me. I know my sons are ready, I know it’s time for them to stretch, and it’s easier to walk away when you have this confidence.

In a couple of weeks we’ll be taking them to see our favorite band, which I just found out has been playing together for twenty years. As long as my husband and I have been together and listening to them. I was just a girl with the rush of the twenties and the blur of the raising-babies thirties ahead of her. I can’t wait to see what the forties have in store, all except for the sending my kids off to college part. Middle school I can handle, for now.

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Days of fresh ice and milk
Thursday, August 11, 2011

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Loading the bases of life
Thursday, July 14, 2011

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Helping kids ride out life’s bumps
Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Sending your child off to school every morning takes guts. There are so many bad things that could happen to them, I often wonder how I’m able to watch their backs as they walk away without panicking or running screaming to get them. But I have chosen the caretakers and teachers who work with them because I trust them. So I have to rely on that faith when I start to worry.

Life isn’t easy or fair. My kids have been bullied, mistreated by other adults, and not supported when they needed help. It’s hard to have a sad little guy come home at the end of the day and contain the anger and disappointment at the people who were supposed to be there for him.

Then you listen, and talk, and try to ease their pain, and know that the teacher has twenty students to take care of so she can’t really be everywhere all the time, and she’s doing the best she can. And that life is life. We have it pretty good. But there will always be bumps in the road, and being a parent means riding them out. And hopefully, giving your kids the ability to navigate them alone.

As my sons’ preschool teacher would tell me, this is just another learning opportunity. Our children will have bad experiences that we can’t be there to protect them from, but we can help them afterward. We can figure out what happened and how to handle it better the next time. Because there will be a next time. Bad things can happen anytime, anywhere, when a child is with their parent or with another caregiver.

When a little girl in my day care fell down and broke a bone, her mother came to me feeling guilt and shame for what had happened. I took her by the shoulders and said, “Honey, all I can say is thank God it didn’t happen on my time.”

I’ve been on both sides of this equation. I’ve had to trust others and now I am the one who is trusted. I think more than a fair amount of the job stress I have is that constant worry – what if something bad happens? I am always responsible for six children. I joked with a client that I could not only re-trace my own steps, but the steps of all the kids as well. It is kind of an odd skill, but there’s a reason for it. Because in my head, even though I may be paying attention to whatever’s right in front of me, I’m tracking all those kids who are in my care (like a little radar in my brain). I won’t lie – it’s exhausting.

I worry about taking them in the car. I worry that they’ll stop breathing in their sleep. I worry about walking them to school. I hear babies crying in my dreams. I worry that parents will find a stray bruise and suspect me of something. That my licensor could show up at any minute and make a list of everything I’m doing wrong. I worry when I take them out in public that someone will see something they don’t like and call the police on me. I worry that, God forbid, if something bad happened – and I pray it never would – but it could, that I might be sued and lose everything. My husband would tell me to calm down and then quietly call the insurance agent to up our coverage.

Last week I had to take the kids out on an errand and suddenly I realized that I really needed to use the bathroom. I knew there wasn’t one where we were going so in my head I began calculating how to relieve myself. As we passed gas stations and restaurants where I knew I could just quickly run in and go, the temptation to stop became almost overwhelming. I didn’t do it, for obvious reasons, but I had to laugh when I envisioned the headline: “Day Care Provider Abandons Children in McDonald’s Parking Lot.”

There will always be things out there to fear. The day you sign the permission slip for the trip to Connecticut, you hear about a school bus that crashed on the highway. You read about the school lockdown when someone thought they saw a man with a gun and think, if my kid was in that school, wouldn’t I want them to flee? And more importantly, why do I even have to think about this kind of stuff?

The bright side is, for the most part, life is pretty safe, and though we all earn our scars, we get through it pretty well. When I used to worry about kidnappers and child molesters my friend would repeatedly tell me that it’s almost always someone you know, and our streets are safer than ever. I can honestly say that I still haven’t reached her level of confidence, but it comforts me when I start to worry. And being a natural worrier makes me a good day care provider, so I guess I can count it as a life skill.

In many ways, life is a leap of faith. Being a parent magnifies that leap – like jumping off a skyscraper instead of just a big rock. I take risks every day, by working with children and by having them. One small mistake can be devastating. When my children leave home each morning, I have to have faith that the grownups will do what they should, that my boys will be able to handle what comes or talk to me about it, and that we can get through it together. Otherwise, in all honesty, I probably wouldn’t be able to get out of bed in the morning.

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After nap time, let’s stop time
Wednesday, April 27, 2011

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What tax receipts bring back
Monday, April 18, 2011

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On court, resisting bad lessons
Wednesday, March 23, 2011

We just went through basketball playoffs with our kids. Ah, youth sports. A breeding ground of bad behavior. And I ain’t just talkin bout the kids, folks.

During our last game things got really intense. I was there with my friend, who works with kids and has an instinctive ability to know exactly what they need. At one point she turned to me, eyes wide, and squeaked, “What life lessons is this teaching?!”

I didn’t have a good answer for her. All I could think of was, if all else fails, start bullying everyone?

At the end of the game there were some tears. I was steeling myself for the pain my son would be feeling. He was upset but he quickly put it aside. Unbelievably to both of us, our kids were over it before the end of the car ride home.

I guess there’s real meaning to the phrase, “they left it all on the court.” We adults were fuming about all the bad behavior we’d seen, re-hashing it and looking for justice. But the boys just said, “Those parents are messed up. Worse than the kids!” and let it go.

I was stunned, but so proud of their reaction. Look at the coping skills we’re giving our kids. They do it so much better than we do! I was never an athlete myself, and now I’m the mama bear protecting my kid, so I probably have the worst possible reaction to stress during a game.

But my son and I talked about it later and we decided there were a lot of positives to be learned from the situation. There’s the obvious – that challenges make us stronger. We grow through difficulty rather than success.

I also told him that I’ve had to deal with the challenge of being really mad a people’s behavior, but still having to work with them and be part of the community. My son seemed glad that we shared this connection. For me it’s on the grown-up level, but he has to do it every time he walks through the front doors of his school.

Finally, as it always does, we moms were talking about how to protect our kids from bullying and bad behavior on all levels (adult and child alike). The most interesting discovery to come out of this is that for my kids to survive the next few (really hard) years of school, it’s all about friendship.

So many times when we talk about how to protect our kids the answer is, “He needs a good friend to rely on.” If my son is struggling with a bully in his class, I ask the teacher to steer him toward another friend. There are three elementary schools in our town, and I’m working with moms from the other schools to build relationships among our kids. Our hope is that when they get to middle school they’ll have some friends and be less afraid of the unknown.

And I realized at the same time, that’s exactly what I do when things get tough. I have a group of trusted friends who I go to for help. I’m having this problem, has it ever happened to you? What did you do to fix it? And my friends will reassure me that they will help me figure it out.

I hope every day that my sons will have this. I know boys are different and maybe don’t process everything as much as girls do, but I see how they interact with each other. When my younger son has trouble with a friend his older brother tells him, “You tell him if he keeps doing that to you then he’s not your true friend and you’re done with him!”

Somehow, my sons are brilliant at this. They’re able to walk away when they need to protect themselves. They know what’s right and they face bullies with bravery. We all hope that our kids will go out in the world and be good friends, and what they put out will come back to them when they need it.

When a bully on the playground went after my older son last week, I saw one of his best friends saying, “That’s not cool,” and his other best friend coming over to give him a pat on the back.

And when I got home there was a message from my dear friend who also saw the incident. It said, “We love you.” And it was enough to make us all feel better.

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When war is like wallpaper
Thursday, January 27, 2011

Back in my college radio days, I became a fan of Public Enemy and I still have some of their music on my iPod (even though I know it’s embarrassing when a white suburban mom has rap blasting out the window of her minivan). The other day one of their songs came on and they were rapping about young black men being sent to war, and a general named Norman, and it hit me: Weren’t we here before?

And wasn’t that 20 years ago? And we’re still here, but it seems that suddenly everyone has stopped talking about it.

You might say we’re not technically at war, since President Obama claimed that the war in Iraq is over and we are in an advisory rather than a combat role. Supposedly we are “advising” in Afghanistan as well. In my view, as long as American soldiers are dying in these countries and our purpose there continues to be as ill-defined as it has been, we’re still at war.

And I’ve had many reminders that we are at war lately. Soldiers home on leave for the holidays, walking around in their uniforms. I want to approach and say thank you, and what’s really going on, and when do you think it will end, and what can we do to get you home for good?

I’m reminded too by the fighter jets that have always flown over my house, sometimes so low that it’s actually frightening to be under them. These machines are truly a technological marvel, incredibly fast and maneuverable and mesmerizing to watch. But I was torn the first time I saw one fly over after we had declared (the most recent) war on Iraq. I had a sense of safety knowing that they were protecting me, but as a mother, I had a visceral feeling of doom and panic.

All I could think was, how do the mothers in Baghdad feel when they see these planes coming?

And what is the legacy the U.S. is leaving with those mothers and families? What of the reportedly 100,000-plus Iraqi citizens who died in this war? Has Obama really not ended it, as he said he would, because he doesn’t want to walk away from an unstable quagmire? I’m not sure that we left the country in any better shape the first time. But a little cursory research shows that the first Gulf War has already been burnished with a shiny happy ending, a success for the first President Bush.

Another reminder was a story I heard on NPR discussing the fact that many people are unable to pass the written tests to get into the army. Wouldn’t it be ironic – but not surprising – if it takes military quotas to improve our public schools? Maybe that’s the sad bargain we have to make in order to actually funnel our taxpayer money toward our children instead of directly to the military.

The Treasury is considering raising the debt ceiling for our country because of the recession. Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, R-Ky., said this month, “We just need to … do something about the biggest problem in the country – other than joblessness.”

The wars received scant mention in the president’s State of the Union address this week. Why isn’t the war our biggest problem, and why wouldn’t ending it and bringing our desperately needed money back home be a viable solution?

And wouldn’t having that money back on our shores allow us to stimulate industry? I’m just sayin.

And finally, the new Republican House of Representatives would rather repeal health care for our citizens than stop sending them to war. I have never, ever been able to rationalize the logic of spending trillions of dollars on sending people to die rather than getting them a flu shot. But I guess that’s why I’m more of a dove than a hawk.

But hanging over all these thoughts about the war is my son, who has lately been trying very hard to understand the concept. It started when a friend told him his great-grandfather had served in World War II so he knew all about “what Germany did to us.” Hence, my son has been walking around talking about how much “I hate Germany!!”

I try to explain that there’s no reason to hate Germany, but my 10-year-old who sees the world in absolutes has a hard time grasping the subtleties.

I’m not sure if he understands that we are at war now, and I don’t know if I should explain the full extent of it to him. I probably won’t. I remember being a child and wanting desperately to feel safe and secure, and know that my family would be too.

To have an idea that all the wars were over now and we had learned our lessons and could live peacefully. But today, my country has been at war for the entire length of my son’s life, and I find it intolerable. We have gotten far, far too complacent in accepting this fact.

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Seeking that Christmas magic
Thursday, December 23, 2010

December can be panic time for mothers. I don’t even have time to write a to-do list, so I don’t know exactly what I have to do, I just know there’s a lot of it.

Christmas cards, wish lists, holiday parties and strolls and craft fairs, getting the tree, the pile of gifts to wrap (if you have bought them yet – and many of us haven’t) baking, decorating, teacher gifts, charity donations, visiting the cousins.

And my son is crying because everyone in his class says Santa is not real. Fa la la la laa!

Speaking of Santa, the only items my kids are asking for this year are an iPad and a full-size bounce house. They are banding together, too.

Forming a united front of wishing. If it’s all they ask for, they’re convinced they’ll get it. How did I create this monster? I have to appreciate the teamwork, but still. How do I burst this bubble without causing permanent damage?

We’ve all been here – trying to keep up with the very high holiday expectations.

Like the other day, when I realized my children didn’t have advent calendars (because of how smoothly my life is run). You would think that the day before December began you’d be able to find them easily, but you would be wrong.

So we spent an entire evening going to four stores to find them, and they were the bottom-of-the-barrel leftovers and “we wanted the ones with the chocolate inside,” and we got home at bedtime and the boys were giving me grief because they wanted to play but had to go straight up to bed.

And I heard: “This is why we hate going shopping with you mommy.”

Fa la la la frickin la.

I don’t think the stress comes from the idea of the holidays, which I still love. I go mushy at Christmas songs. But it’s the feeling when the song is over and you come back to reality: It will never be that good.

It’s the feeling of one hundred things that are not done, some of which can’t be done until the days before Christmas. So it doesn’t matter how prepared you are (which is not at all, if you’re me), you will still feel the expectations of what you have to be able to create on that one sanctified day.

It kills me to know that my son will not get a bounce house from Santa this year, and I already anticipate the feeling of despair when he comes downstairs on Christmas morning and realizes that Santa let him down. My husband is totally calm and reasonable about all this, telling the boys that you don’t just get everything you ask for automatically. He will state with one hundred percent conviction that Santa is real, but there are limits to even his magic.

We all try to re-create our own childhood magic for our kids. But maybe it doesn’t take so much effort. As long as our families are together and some presents are under the tree, they will have the magic. So my husband is even better than me at creating it. While I’m running myself ragged and wringing my hands and processing my son’s emotional outbursts, he’s happily hanging the Christmas lights and humming carols.

So just grind through it, my friends. Enjoy the little moments and let go of the worry. Be in the moment with your family instead of ticking off your to-do list in your mind, and, with luck, you will find the magic.

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Straight allies needed in gays’ struggle for acceptance
Monday, December 13, 2010

In recent months we have heard of a spate of suicides among young people who were gay, lesbian, questioning, or just being accused of these things by others. I thought about how bad it must be, how constant and awful the torment, that would lead someone to just give up in this way, and the shock and grief their families and friends must feel.

I read the eloquent and heartfelt tributes in newspapers and all over the web. But I never felt compelled to write about it because I didn’t feel like it was my place. I’m straight – who wants to hear my opinion? I haven’t had to suffer. I thought it would ring hollow and could even be offensive. “Hey, look at me! I’m OK with the gays! And I have a black friend, too!”

But I was finally moved by J. Mary Sorrell’s piece, “‘Better’ a relative term” in the Gazette (Nov. 18). She writes of the devastation we all feel when someone takes his or her life, and the hard work ahead if we’re truly going to make things “better.” And, she says, “Heterosexual allies are as integral to this process as white allies were and are in racial-based civil rights movements.”

I never thought of it that way, but she’s right.

For a long time I wondered if just being supportive of gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered and queer (GLBTQ) people counted. It’s not like I’m taking to the streets – but I do feel it when I go out in public with my cousin Sheri and her partner Teri (seriously. It’s kinda cute). Or when I choose to do parenting trainings with a lesbian and it doesn’t hit me until we’re standing in front of a room of people: She’s queer, and there are people in the world who wouldn’t come to see us just because of that.

It doesn’t inform my every movement, but slowly I realize how it does for them.

Recently we had a wedding in our clan and Sheri chose it to be her first “public appearance” with Teri. I was so proud of their bravery – and annoyed at the fact that they had to be. I was proud to sit next to them in the church and joke about when the lightning bolts would strike them down. I asked Teri why she rejected communion despite being raised Catholic and she gave me a look that said, “Do you even have to ask?”

Later we were having a discussion about their experiences coming out when Teri said, “No parent would choose this for their child.” I tried to express how I will love my sons with everything I am no matter what they become (for me, it’s a biological imperative). And felt so sad that we live in a world that makes children think their parents wouldn’t.

I hated how much it hurts for people who have to be afraid to come out, and all the ridiculous social repercussions they face. I hoped that if we work together through this time, when the world is learning to “accept” its GLBTQ sons and daughters, that it might someday really be “better” – that if one of my sons discovered that maybe he is gay, he wouldn’t have to endure the pain. But I’m not naive.

I know that the term “gay” as a pejorative has snuck into the lexicon among my sons’ friends. When I first heard them using it I lectured them in my I-mean-business-and-I-am-NOT-kidding voice, about how “Your cousin Sheri – who you love – is gay and I will not have that word used in my house!”

But did I blow it by overreacting so much? Will it become their favorite word out of rebellion, or did I scare them straight? (No pun intended.) I couldn’t help myself. It came from my core and I couldn’t stop it.

My husband pointed out to Teri that “where we live it’s normal,” and I know I take that for granted. In the very same newspaper with Sorrell’s article there was an ad for a lesbian love story movie with two women kissing and I didn’t even bat an eyelash. But talking to Sherri and Teri reminded me that in the world outside of the Happy Valley, that sort of thing doesn’t fly.

I think about how we did make a difference when Sheri and Teri came out. They needed us to love them no matter what because the rest of the world wasn’t going to do that anymore, despite the fact that they are both brilliant, beautiful, loving women who give so much of themselves to others.

So here I sit, a confirmed hetero ally warrior. I will continue to walk with pride next to my GLBTQ friends. Or just do what I do now – walk with my friends, and not think about how their sexual preference matters to me. And I will remember Teri’s words, “If you don’t want to be with us, it’s your loss because you’re missing a hell of a fun ride.”

Count me in, sister.

For more information on the topics raised in this essay, visit www.straightforequality.org.

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Teens seem to have trouble empathizing? It’s all in the brain
Monday, November 8, 2010

I’ve written for the Aspire Project about dealing with bullying in younger children and how using direct and clear communication, natural consequences and consistent reinforcement of your expectations will eventually stop bullying.

So why doesn’t it work with teenagers?

You might be relieved to hear that it’s about brain development. I don’t have all the answers for stopping teenage bullying, but maybe we can have a better understanding of it if we begin with the fact that teens are operating with pudding for brains.

That’s right, all the hard work you put into raising your child is down the drain. You spent many long years guiding your child into becoming a healthy, functioning member of society. The toddler years - when you had to keep them from burning their hands on the stove and running out into traffic. Elementary school – where you conquered lost lunch money and forgotten homework.

You thought you had it made, and you wouldn’t have to repeat yourself incessantly anymore.

And then your child hit puberty and started acting like a lunatic.

But you must remember – this is no one’s fault! It’s biology, and the best thing we can do is take deep breaths and ride it out.

At around age 12, the brain begins to literally rewire itself. I often tell parents in my child care program that they can’t relate to their young children because they literally have a different brain. This is when the pudding stage begins.

It takes a great deal of energy to re-grow a brain, so it reverts to a very instinctive state. Your child goes into fight or flight mode. This can mean lashing out, hiding in their room and having vicious fights over nothing. Sound familiar?

The brain is doing much of this work beginning at midnight, while the body is in a state of deep sleep, and needs almost 11 hours of sleep per day (that’s the sleeping-all-day thing).

Now, unfortunately for every parent who has ever had a teenager, this development happens in a totally illogical and disorderly way. The emotional centers begin to develop first, so your child goes from high to low to childish to mature in the course of one evening meal (aka: mood swings).

Next come hormones! When a teenager sees a loved one, their brain literally has the same reaction as if they were on cocaine. Ah, the “high” of young love.

Now here’s the best part, and what brings us back to the bullying issue. The moral centers in the brain do not develop until almost 17, even though the emotions and hormones have been churning. Teens have an adult body with all the capabilities, but they are still using a child’s brain, and the teenage brain often cannot see the consequences of actions.

Teens also can’t always tell what others are feeling because the brain hasn’t fully developed social intelligence. In a famous study, three-quarters of the teenage subjects couldn’t see fear on another person’s face. They would identify the person as “angry” or “sad,” but never used the word “fear” to describe any expression.

Now imagine a teen who can’t see their target feeling fear while they’re staring them in the face – let alone berating them over a website or handheld.

To top that off, the capability for empathy fluctuates widely in the brain from infancy to almost 18 years old. When we are teaching parents and educators to combat bullying, we often say that empathy is the key to helping kids connect. If they are in one of these low swings, it may be difficult to comprehend someone else’s feelings (the whole world revolves around me. ME!!!).

South Hadley High School Principal Daniel Smith pointed out this fall in The Gazette that “you will be talking to a student and you can see by their face that they understand and agree, but minutes later you see them in the hallway acting in contrary to what they just agreed to. It’s something that happens with teenagers.” (“No magic bullet on bullying,” Sept. 13, 2010)

Never were truer words spoken.

The final brain development does not occur until the end of the teenage years. The parts of the brain that control logic and reasoning develop last, at around age 18. The very last brain centers that develop deal with insight, understanding and self-control. Now why couldn’t they have been the first ones? (In my uneducated view, that’s all about biology too, because Mother Nature wants more babies, but that’s another topic.)

None of this information is meant to let teens off the hook for bad behavior. In fact, it means that we should be more rigorous in our discussions with them. They need our support and understanding, clear and consistent expectations and boundaries, and natural consequences.

Most importantly, they need us to stick it out even when they are telling us to get out of their lives.

So picture yourself parenting that toddler all over again. You can’t just say something once and expect your teen to live their life by it. It’s something you have to talk about all the time.

Add it to the list of tough topics: sex, drugs and alcohol, the F they got in chemistry, and bullying. And when you find out they’ve been involved in a bullying incident, be a good listener. Know that they don’t really understand what’s going on either, and get them talking to someone who can help.

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Recasting grim message that hitting a child sends
Monday, September 6, 2010

Here’s a recent headline that caught my eye: “Baby slapping onboard flight sets off debate.”

This is my best guess at the truth, according to what I’ve gleaned from news reports: the parents were fighting loudly over how to quiet the baby (13 months), the flight attendant saw the slap and took the baby without force, the father followed her to the back of the plane and held the baby until it calmed down. The parents were interviewed by officials and released.

Of course the incident set off a discussion on talk shows and websites. Everyone has an opinion on corporal punishment of children, and some people think a spank now and then is a useful tool. As a mother, I think it’s really wrong. As a child care provider, it is against the law for me to ever lay a hand on a child, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I have a 13-month-old in my care right now. I can imagine the look on his face — the hurt in his eyes — if I was to ever violate his trust in this way. This baby looks to me to protect him.

The last line of the Gazette article was a quote from the spokeswoman for the Washington Council of Children and Families. Her comment on the plane situation was that “Simply put, most people don’t know what to do.” At first I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the bystanders or the parents of the screaming baby.

It’s true: nobody knows what to do in these situations. How many times have you heard someone berating their child? Have you wished you could stop it but didn’t know how? Have you wondered if it was the right thing to do? Or feared the repercussions from the parent if you did?

On the other hand, as the embarassed parent of the screaming child, especially trapped in an airplane, what do you do as a last resort?

Unfortunately, it sounds like this mother is stuck in the vicious cycle of hitting. She claims that her daughter saw another child slap someone “…and I guess she thinks it’s OK. And I’m trying to teach her that it’s not…and the only reason I popped her is so she knows it’s not.”

How do you teach a child that hitting is wrong by hitting the child?

Here’s what happens when you hit a child, or even yell at them viciously for that matter. The child feels humiliated, scared, and hurt. (And the mother thought that this would calm her down?) Ultimately, as the child gets older and begins to better understand the underlying power struggle, they simply lose a little more respect for the parent every time it happens.

As my mentor taught me, when an adult hits a child, it is the adult having a temper tantrum and losing control. The only message the child gets is that I am bigger and stronger than you and I can hurt you if I want. Is that how we want to rule our children, with threats of physical pain? Sounds a lot like bullying to me.

Another expert who commented on the story was psychologist Dale Atkins: “When someone raises a hand to a child and someone else sees it, it is in fact our responsibilty as a bystander to stand up for that child. It also gives the child a message…that someone is going to stand up for me and that it’s not OK to be hit.”

Right on, sister.

Dr. Atkins suggested that bystanders should intervene in the most positive way possible. “Offer assistance…say ‘Is there anyway I can be helpful?’” She said you can try to acknowledge that it’s hard to raise a child, and support the person “rather than be judgemental.” It seems that this is just what the flight attendent did and it was the right thing to do. I hope I can remember it the next time I’m in the heat of the moment.

I also agree with Albuquerque Police Chief Marshall Katz, who said, “I think it was a solid move on the part of the flight attendent to take custody of the child. It neutralized the situation. It calmed everybody down.”

This is the key, as any emergency responder will tell you. The first thing you do is try to de-escalate. That’s what I do constantly when I’m working with kids. I intervene quickly. I calm them down. I forgive and move on. I wish we all had the ability to do this, and to do it with adults when necessary.

If you are still not convinced that hitting a child is wrong, I have one final question for you. How would you feel if it was someone hitting you?

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Aspire Project participants to lead free September program for parents
Friday, August 27, 2010

By LYNNE MARIE WANAMAKER
and AMY PYBUS

A parent’s first job is to keep her child safe. In the beginning it’s a fairly simple, if overwhelming, responsibility. She squalls; you pick her up.

You provide all her basic needs: food, a safe place to sleep, a clean diaper.

We feel a natural protectiveness for our baby. We think, “I never want her to be hurt. I never want her to suffer. I never want her to feel anything but joy and contentment.”

We see that beautiful, new, innocent creature and want to somehow preserve that baby magic.

But things get dicier when that infant becomes a toddler, pre-schooler and big kid. We can try to keep her in that pristine wonderland where all her needs are met by omniscient gentle parents. Or we can start to teach her the skills she’ll need to navigate a world that is not always as safe and magical as we might hope.

We are realists when it comes to our kids. We know the world won’t always meet them with snuggles and rainbows. And we’re realists when it comes to ourselves. We won’t always be there to keep discomfort away from them.

And we will lose our minds if we define good parenting as satisfying their every whim. In fact, we might be working against their bigger safety interests.

If we are committed to teaching our kids the skills they need to be safe and successful in the world, we must model effective boundary-setting early.

This means we won’t meet their every need. Instead, we’ll clearly and consistently express our boundaries and expectations.

This can be as simple as using a declarative statement: “It’s time to put on your shoes,” instead of a question: “Would you like to put on your shoes now?” It can be as hard as saying “No” to a 2-year-old in a tantrum.

Our kids are watching us, constantly, with hawk eyes, to learn how to relate to the world.

Our job is to show them that each and every one of us is a valuable being who deserves respect. We must be ready to model this in every aspect of family life.

If Amy gives her son an ice cream because he threw a fit, she teaches him he’ll get a reward for bad behavior.

If Lynne Marie berates her partner in front of her child, she demonstrates that disrespect is OK in intimate relationships. If we are badgered into doing things we don’t want to do, we show our kids that it’s OK to let a bully make choices for us.

Here’s the secret payoff: a family with calm, consistent parents offering clear boundaries and expectations is a more peaceful family to live in day-to-day.

As we have talked and worked together, we’ve been delighted to discover the ways that building self-protection skills for young children incorporates parenting strategies that improve communication and contentment in the home.

We’re excited to talk to parents about these intersections and how they can teach, model and rehearse effective boundary setting with their young children.

We’re hosting an evening for parents Sept. 28 from 6-7:30 p.m. at the Lilly Library Community Room in Florence to explore these ideas.

There is no fee for the session, but pre-registration is requested. To sign up, send an email message to trainer@compassionateconditioning.com or call Lynne Marie Wanamaker at at 527-8317.

We hope to see you there.

Lynne Marie Wanamaker is a National Women’s Martial Arts certified self-defense instructor. She blogs about the intersection of self defense and parenting at http://blog.mindbodymama.com.

Amy Pybus, an Easthampton child care provider, is a Gazette columnist and blogs at www.sittingonthebaby.com.

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Let’s find the fight inside of us
August 20, 2010

As a teenager of the ’80s, I would lament that I wasn’t born to be a hippie in the ’60s: that storied decade when young people took to the streets to fight the power and force social change for the greater good!

My teenage years were spent trying to master cutting the neck out of my sweatshirt so it would have the proper Flashdance swoop.

Sure we were mad about stuff, and would’ve liked to change it, but we had no idea what to do or how to do it. And if we had, it certainly wouldn’t have been by ditching our Saabs and living off the land. That would be seriously uncool.

As I grew older this mindset became more entrenched. I experienced financial success and got my own cushy house and cars and lifestyle. There were world issues that bothered me, but still, I was too busy doing my corporate thing to find the time to argue. Things were going good for me – why rock the boat?

But today, and especially because I have children, I look around and think, Wow. The world is really seriously screwed up. And what have I done about it? What would I do about it if I was so inclined?

My generation, or maybe all of us, have lost the ability to protest. We keep taking it and taking it but instead of doing something about it, we shrug our shoulders and head off to work (if we’re lucky enough to hold a job, and then we say thank you very much sir, instead of demanding better treatment as loyal employees). It seems like admitting defeat, every day.

We should be outraged that this country has been at war for the entire length of my sons’ lives – almost a decade now – and nearly bankrupted ourselves over it.

We should be outraged that the Gulf of Mexico was destroyed while the company’s CEO was too busy going to yacht races to try to fix the problem for “the little people.”

We should be outraged that the medical insurance industry has created an environment where companies are forced to fire their employees and hire contractors because they can no longer afford to pay their insurance.

We should be outraged that decades of political policy and corporate greed have created the richest upper class in American history, the largest divide between rich and poor, and gutted the working middle class.

I admit that I haven’t been more active because of that old defeatist attitude: I don’t have the time, energy or resources to run off and scream about everything. And protesters usually look like, or are painted as, just that – crazies. While it’s nice to see people on the corners in Northampton and the effort they’re making, my husband will often remark that “If you’re in Northampton, you’re preaching to the choir.”

It may be that they’re in the only place where they’re allowed to protest in peace. In recent years, people at rallies in major cities have been attacked by police or forced to remain in one area rather than march past the very places they are trying to reach.

So what do we do? March on Washington and watch while Fox News and the National Park Service debate the actual number of protesters? Donate to a pet cause (after determining which ones are legit)? Volunteer time, which none of us have because we’re too busy working multiple jobs?

I’ve had many conversations with state Rep. John Scibak, who still believes in a representative government and that we should be communicating with all our elected officials. As he told me, “The best way to ensure that elected officials are representing you is to let them know your views.” Unfortunately, he also added that “On most issues, if I hear from five constituents, that’s a lot.”

So please, write to your elected officials and your newspaper. Protest, but outside of Northampton. Find something positive that you can give your energy to.

“‘The time has come,’ the walrus said,” in Lewis Carroll’s “The Walrus and the Carpenter,” and the naive young oysters think they’re going to have a lovely chat. But I feel like the oldest oyster. I’m afraid we’re about to be devoured.

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Situations that need adults: Gentle ways to turn young people away from bullying
July 25, 2010

Recently I wrote about having an anti-bullying curriculum as part of my childcare program. I do this because young children can be naturally aggressive and hurt each other, and the victim feels bullied no matter how old the aggressor.

My definition of a bully includes anyone, at any time, who makes someone else feel bad either physically or emotionally.

So today I’d like to discuss how I handle these situations, especially for those who might be struggling with young children and their sometimes completely irrational behavior.

I will refer to the aggressor as the “bully,” but don’t get hung up on that. It’s not a label, it’s a behavior. We’re all bullies occasionally; it’s OK to admit it.

How else can we stop it?

And keep in mind that your best response is to remain calm. Kids have a hard enough time dealing with the pressures of growing up. They want to know that the grown-ups can handle it. It is reassuring for them to see that we’re not going to lose it every time some little thing happens.

The first thing I do when a bullying incident occurs is determine the severity. Which kids were involved, what was the intent, can the victim defend him/herself or do I need to step in? Then I can decide my course of action. This will include any of the following:

• Have the bully look at the victim’s face and say, “Look how you made him feel!” This helps them realize they’ve hurt the other child. Explain what they’ve done. “Did you know that you really hurt Sarah? I would be really sad if someone did that to me.”

• Sympathize with the victim. “Oh Jane! How sad!” Connect with her, give her a hug and label the emotions she might be feeling. I will sometimes ignore the bully to show them that they’re not going to get the spotlight for being a bully (I use this sparingly, but it can be effective if I know the child is motivated to do better by being left out).

• Help them work the problem out. If they’re fighting over a toy, have them ask for a turn when the other is done. If someone was pushed down, have the bully help the victim get up. Rather than sending the bully away to be punished, get them involved in helping to make it better. What better way to teach a child how to show someone that they regret hurting them?

• Have the bully say they’re sorry. This is a tricky subject and everybody has an opinion. If the bully is willing to say it in a nice way, it really does lighten the moment. If they don’t want to, I will tell them that after we’ve hurt our friend, sometimes saying “I’m sorry” is the only way to make them feel better (and a “sorry” tossed over the shoulder as they go on to the next thing doesn’t count!).

If they refuse, I continue to sympathize with the victim, and help them deal with the reality that sometimes they aren’t going to get that apology. I have seen kids who are not willing to say they’re sorry, and it’s not a pretty sight. Learning to be humble and empathetic is a vital part of growing up and it really does begin at this young age.

• Wait and see if they’re able to work it out by themselves. Sometimes, the bully might realize that she shouldn’t have done that. If she tries to remedy the problem in any way, I stay back and let it play. It’s a beautiful thing if they can do it.

• As soon as the kids are speaking, I start teaching them the words they need to know to protect themselves. I’ll tell a child, “You can tell her ‘Stop!’” and put their hand out. I’ll make them practice with me.

• Praise, praise, praise and label good behavior when you see it. It doesn’t have to be gushing, just taking note: “Otis, I saw you give half your snack to Charlotte. That was really generous of you.” Do it as often as possible.

Sometimes kids will act like they haven’t heard you, but you better believe they are feeling really good about themselves when they hear you loving them.

• Often bullying comes from a feeling that a child can’t express. We talk about emotions all the time, especially anger. That’s our favorite one. I have a song chart that lists several ways to release your anger: “If you’re angry and you know it stomp your feet … tell a friend … walk away … take deep breaths,” etc.

Much of my work involves the teachable moment; that is, recognizing and dealing with bad behaviors in a healthy way. I spend most of my day literally giving kids words to say to each other and acting out better ways to handle tough situations. Learning how to relate to other people is not an easy skill. I model good behavior for them so they can try it out.

Being a child involves a good deal of bumping around and behavior that we grown-ups see as ugly and wrong, but to them is the only way they know how to relate. Our role in the situation is to help them walk through the process of making it better: you made a mistake and it hurt someone, so now we’re going to figure out how to fix it, and hopefully do it better next time.

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Why even toddlers benefit from an anti-bullying program
July 5, 2010

I was pleased to see the Gazette article about local elementary schools using the Steps to Respect anti-bullying program (“Conway third-graders step up for bullying prevention,” May 31, 2010). After reading that article I had an immense feeling of relief: someone is finally getting it right.

My sons have been lucky enough to have this excellent curriculum since preschool. But even before that, they were learning how to spot and stop a bully in my family child care program.

Yes, it’s true, I have an anti-bullying curriculum for toddlers. I admit this is a slightly radical way to look at bullying, and maybe it stretches the definition of the word in the emotionally heated way that we’ve come to view it lately. But in my house, we call a spade a spade. No one gets away with abusing someone else, no matter how old they are.

A young child may not be a bully with a capital B, but a victim is still a victim. When a child has a toy ripped from their hands, gets hit or pushed, or even shoved aside in the rush to get out the door, they have been bullied. And they feel like they’ve been bullied.

This behavior happens all the time, even in the very best of child care programs.

Oh no! Have I just let the dirty little secret of day care slip? No. It happens because kids are kids. They are instinctive animals who want what they want and don’t have the capacity for good citizenship yet. But we have to teach them that they are not allowed to hurt other people in order to get what they want.

In the article, school psychologist Cindy Burch said that we should have compassion for kids’ normal behavior, accept that they make mistakes, and recognize normal peer conflicts that are not necessarily bullying. Good teachers and care providers do all of these things all of the time.

Believe it or not, I even spend a good deal of time protecting myself from being bullied – yes, by these little kids. They bully me when they demand service (“Amy, I’m thirsty. I said I’m THIRSTY!”). My sons bully me when they don’t want to go to school and spend half an hour whining about all the reasons why they shouldn’t have to.

Even the baby bullies me. Just the other day he was screaming and I told him, “Stop yelling at me!” And it worked! He looked at me, whined a little disappointedly, and crawled off to find a toy. He wasn’t in distress – he was mad that I wasn’t picking him up, and by following me around hollering at me, he was trying to bully me into doing so. (Don’t start thinking I’m a crazy child-abuser: his father feels the same way.)

The single most important part of my job is to teach my kids how to behave, and how to treat others in a civil way. In my world, a child of any age who does not show some remorse or empathy toward a person they have victimized is acting like a bully.

I see this as being very open and honest about childrens’ behavior. Maybe I’m a little more strict about the term “bully” than some people would like. But when I face this behavior head-on and respond in an appropriate manner, I’m showing kids that we don’t look away.

I see it as standing up for a child who can’t do it themselves. I see it as the chance to show a bystander how to step in, and to teach children how to work out conflicts among themselves. And most importantly, I see it as the chance for a naturally aggressive child to learn how to get along with other people.

Every incident is a learning opportunity. My kids should be able to work it out and learn how to protect themselves in a safe environment. I need to stop bullying behavior on the front lines, any time I see it. Zero tolerance. Because I don’t want to allow any child to get in the habit of hurting others.

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Keep it a Sunny Field of Dreams
June 29, 2010

It’s Little League baseball time again in our house and I’m on that emotional roller coaster ride. My stomach knots every time one of my kids is the center of attention, either batting, pitching, or making a play in the field. Logically I know they want to play and this is supposed to be fun. But the mommy in me wonders how much pressure we should be putting on our 6-year-olds.

What is the point of this tradition, in which we get them all dressed up, tell them to listen to coach, send them into the arena and then scream at them from the sidelines? We put our kids in a really stressful situation. And then we comment on their every move, in voices loud enough for everyone to hear. Something tells me this is not good parenting.

The organization’s mission states that it is “developing the qualities of citizenship, discipline, teamwork and physical well-being … espousing the virtues of character, courage and loyalty … to develop superior citizens rather than superior athletes.”

OK, that’s all good stuff. But how do we make it happen? On the field we have coaches trying to teach, parents trying to teach over them, natural athletes, goofy kids who just like baseball, some people who are out to win and some who just want to have a good time. Combining all these personalities and expectations is a very delicate balance.

My sons are in two different levels this year. Younger is in the American League, where runs still don’t count. We all just have fun and play ball. We have very loud moms who yell and scream for everybody, not just their own kids, and not just their own teams. They know every kid on the team’s name, and they yell heartily for each child. It’s fun.

We guess we’re getting to be known as “the loud team,” but why not? We are cheering for – and loving – all the kids equally.

In the Nationals, where my older son plays, things are different. Suddenly outs and runs count. If you root for one team it means rooting against the other. I have noticed that the cheering stops at this level.

I can’t root against my son’s best friends! I’ve been raising these boys (alongside their moms) for five years. They’re like my own, and I would protect them like my own if it came down to it. People laugh, or maybe even get annoyed at this behavior, but I won’t cheer against any of “my” kids.

So in the tensest moments I just stop yelling altogether. Of course Older hates that because he wants people cheering. But how can I rejoice that we got a run because somebody on the other team made an error? And rejoicing in somebody’s failure is OK? And that failure may be any one of my boys?

From what I’ve seen, the kids handle it amazingly well. They’re developing those self-defense mechanisms. Sometimes you see the crushed spirit and know that kid is hurting, and that’s the nature of competitive sports so they have to learn to live with it.

Ultimately baseball is teaching kids how to fail. When either of our boys is upset about not getting a hit, we tell them the best players in baseball only hit three out of ten times at bat. And they’re the best.

If we follow our rule to keep it light, like we try to do with any problem our kids face, things seem to go much smoother. Many times I see the kids mixing together as soon as the game is over, laughing and chasing each other around the bases.

Still. I’m pretty sure we haven’t reached the bloodthirsty level yet.

It seems we’re all a little confused about our roles. One of my teenage jock friends observed that when adults yell out, “You’ll be great,” what they’re really saying is, “I’m worried you’re going to fail.” He didn’t like it, but learned to cope. And it’s very true that while we moms on the sidelines yell to try to encourage our kids, in the same breath we feel the (literally) painful fear of their failure.

I think we – kids and parents alike – all know that they have to go through it. It’s part of growing up. Every day we release them into life a little bit more and have to let them face what’s out there waiting for them.

So maybe that’s it: Little League is a baby step into the big bad world. And as the adults, we need to lead our children through this experience kindly. I find myself wishing that people would yell more at Older’s games, but the nice yelling, like we do in the American league. Full-throated, joyful bellowing, for every kid out there. And when they fail, just a simple, “That’s OK, you’ll get it next time.”

And when they succeed, we clap nicely, and save the real celebrating – that would be with Mt. Tom’s ice cream, in my boys’ opinion – until after the final handshakes.

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See it. Hear it. Stop it.
May 19, 2010

A few weeks ago on my son’s school playground I witnessed behavior that I found unacceptable. I don’t usually insert myself into the school culture, but I felt this incident couldn’t go by unnoticed.

When I got home I emailed the student’s teacher and the principal. The teacher soon wrote me back that she was taking it to the principal and he called me later to get more details.

I was very pleased by their immediate and concerned response. However, I admitted to both of them that I somehow felt like a tattletale, and I wouldn’t normally do something like that.

It’s strange that I, a trained professional who spends a lot of time and energy trying to stop unacceptable behavior, would have this reaction. Why do we as a culture treat the people who report bad behavior like “rats”? Do we all think we’re in The Sopranos?

Recently we have become more familiar with the concept that bullying is actually a triangle including the bully, the victim, and the bystander.

When I first ran a training about bullies a few years ago, this idea was new to many in the audience. The bystander was portrayed as a victim as well as the bully’s target. Many people now feel that the bystander should get involved and stop the bullying. In my experience, this is easier said than done.

In the playground situation I had the luxury of several things. For one, my complaint was filed anonymously so no one involved knows who called the principal. I’m removed from the situation and don’t have to worry about retribution.

For another, I’m an adult and was reporting on a child who has no influence over me.

And finally, I don’t have to attend this school every day. I can “tattle” on the bully and never have to see her again.

In his wonderful book “Bullyproof Your Child for Life,” Joel Haber talks about the ridiculous position in which our children often find themselves while at school. As an adult we can make the choice to avoid a bully.

Our children, who have the least coping skills, are forced to live in close quarters with their bullies every day. Not only that, but there is a potential for them to be left alone with these bullies at many times during the day.

So what can we do to change our collective feelings about tattling? If we want to increase the importance of the bystander role, we have to differentiate, and teach children how to differentiate, between tattling and reporting.

What we traditionally call tattling is simply a young child’s way of trying to get your attention. They want to talk to you but they don’t know how to on an adult level.

In their world, you talk to someone by telling them you have Tinkerbell on your shirt. So to start a conversation with a grown-up, they have to tell us what’s happening in their world.

Of course we as grown-up with Really Important Things on our Minds couldn’t care less about this news, so we tell them to stop bothering us. It becomes labeled as an annoying behavior and the child feels bad or wrong for trying.

Some teacher friends I’ve worked with had great ways of deflecting these little invitations. One had a picture of the president on her wall and when a child approached her she would respond, “You better go tell the president!”

Another would say, “Thank you, I’ll make a note of that,” and write it on a pad she kept nearby. I have one child who I call my reporter. I tell her, “Thank you for keeping me updated on all this news!”

Just this morning one of the girls wanted me to take action against an aggressor. She told me, “Amy! She scratched me with her long toenails!”

And I have to admit I answered from the heart: “Ew! Gross!”

It is our challenge to help kids realize that we’re not going to react every time they tell us something trivial, but at the same time encourage them to report real danger. Then it’s up to us to show them we will handle the situation appropriately, so they can report without fear of retribution.

Anonymity has been the best rule for me. I try to never use the bystander’s name when I’m dealing with a bullying issue, and the kids have learned that they can trust me. Actually, the best thing to do is just pretend that you knew it anyway and didn’t have to hear it from the bystander. That way they start to think that you really do know everything.

By the way, the teacher at school thanked me profusely for being involved in the bullying incident. She said teachers can’t be everywhere and they don’t see everything that happens. She also told me, “We rely on any eyes we can for help.”

So I have to say I ultimately felt empowered by the experience. I’m going to try to remember that feeling, as well as a bullying mantra created by the father of a 16-year-old boy who killed himself: See it. Hear it. Stop it.

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Making Peace Amid Play-doh
April 16, 2010

When I first opened my childcare program I had no idea how to handle aggressive behavior in children. I had been through a master’s program in education and done hundreds of hours of student teaching. But when you stuck me in a room with a bunch of little ones, I had no idea how to be in charge.

The first time a teacher left me alone in the room I couldn’t stop the panic rising in my stomach. I immediately felt the tension shifting in the room (they can smell fear!). Luckily we got out of the situation with nothing more than a few overly loud remarks (the student’s first strike on the teacher’s battlements).

Once he assigned me to watch Destiny, a bright, beautiful child who wouldn’t. Sit. Down. She danced around the room climbing on and over whatever furniture was in her path as I followed her around begging her to join the lesson. The other student teacher, looking on with amusement, remarked that I was “chasing Destiny.” At that moment I knew: I had really made a very bad career choice.

But it wasn’t that I was in the wrong place, the problem was that I never got the proper training. Trying to teach someone how to handle behavior is a delicate balance. It cannot be taught through books and studying. It has to be done in action, and the teacher has to be willing and able to reflect on how to adjust their approach to working with children. Often with everything else student teachers must learn, there’s simply not enough time to learn this incredibly complex skill.

So if I was such a screw-up at the beginning, how did I learn to handle bad behavior? I was lucky enough to find my fabulous mentor, Pam. When she saw how much I was struggling with my child care kids she took pity. She came over and spent hours working with them, and I watched her work her magic.

Pam never lost her temper. She stayed connected with and focused on the kids. She saw everything that was happening in the room. If someone did something wrong she immediately addressed it, but in a very calm way. “Sharon, you just hit Jonathan. We don’t hit people.” (Label the behavior. Set the limit.)

When and if Sharon hit Jonathan again, she was asked to leave the group (consequence). She had the choice to go and be mad or come back and play nicely when she was ready (put the power back in the child’s hands).

I wanted the mix of calmness and control that Pam had. She was not intimidated by the kids acting out, and she didn’t have to be big and dramatic to get them to listen. My idea of discipline had been so distorted. Being in charge isn’t about being the big, scary, powerful adult. It’s about being firm and clear, but also consistent, fair and trustworthy.

Bad behavior is almost always a child looking for your attention. When you set a limit for a child you are telling them you’re paying attention. You are in charge and will keep them safe, and this frees them up to worry about other things. When the rules and consequences are always the same and they always apply, the kids know what to expect. They trust you because they don’t have to worry about testing you.

As soon as you meet a child they are judging you. They are watching how you handle yourself, and how you deal with other children. How is this person going to treat me? I think I’ll push a few buttons and see how they respond. Will they fail or can I trust them? From that moment on, you are setting the tone of the relationship that you will have with this child.

Recently in my son’s class the teacher asked me to take some students for a math lesson. Little Timmy decided to test me by fiddling with his pencil, making the other kids laugh, doing everything he could to cause general chaos. I could see the thoughts going through his head. What will she do, can I make her lose it?

Ten years ago I would have been furious at this boy. Why is he trying to undermine me? I must stop him! But today I just chuckled and thought, is that all you got, kiddo?

When he tapped the ruler I gently took it out of his hand. When he made goofy noises I kindly asked if he would listen to my words. When he tried to write with his pencil upside down I rolled my eyes and said, “Timmy, I think you know how to use a pencil!”

By addressing every one of his behaviors in a non-confrontational way, I showed all the kids that I could be trusted. Timmy won’t upset me, I will keep things on track and I want you all involved. I am paying attention and this is a safe environment.

Kids want to know that you are protecting them. They want to be reassured that everything’s under control. The most important message you can give them is that I’m the grown-up but I respect you, and I’m not walking away no matter how difficult things get. This is what kids – of all ages – are craving from the adults around them.

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Give Me News I Can Use
March 25, 2010

EDITOR’S NOTE: Today, the Gazette introduces a monthly column by Amy Pybus on family life issues. Pybus works in the childcare field, holds a master’s degree in elementary education and with her husband is raising two boys in Easthampton.

A couple of weeks ago while the Olympics were still on, my 9-year-old told me the results of an event I hadn’t heard yet. I asked how he knew that and he said, “It was on my iPod.”

What? “Yeah, I get the Olympics on my iPod.” I looked and there was the icon: “NBC Olympics” with the mountain logo and everything. Besides the implications of some corporation having a direct line to him, I realized my son was getting his own news from a source I didn’t even know existed.

So now, conveniently, my son can get news in the same place where he watches Austin Powers videos. Shudder.

I was recently talking with a newspaperman about the state of the industry and he said he’s run into a strange new problem in his life. He finds himself remembering some bit of information and then thinking, “Where did I learn that?” I know the feeling. Maybe it was your iPod?

With so many outlets reporting news instantly I have adapted skills for processing what I hear. First I decide if I believe it – balloon boy, anyone? I might check online and see what people are saying. And by people I mean sources that I trust, not the crazy commenters at the end of the story (I just read them for fun). I’ll wait for the newspaper the next day and see what they have to say about it. And of course I end up asking my husband what he thinks.

So I spend a lot of time deciding how I feel about one news story. Wouldn’t it be easier to just believe what I hear? But my natural response is to doubt it, because I know that anything I am getting from most news sources has been filtered through the presenter’s agenda.

All the news companies are competing for ad revenue and viewers. So they need something to draw that audience in – more sensational news! If there isn’t enough news, let’s make some! And let’s get some lunatic to become our “expert commentator” and tell us how we should feel about this news! The news quickly becomes less fact and more opinion, and the opinions become louder and more polarized. Often I can’t even listen to the opposing viewpoint because it is too biased to tolerate.

You know I’m not alone. Here’s proof: A new State of the Media report from the Pew Research Center’s Project for Excellence in Journalism found, in a survey, that 70 percent of Americans say they’re overwhelmed – not informed – by the volume of news and information they see. About the same number – 71 percent – say they believe most news reports contain bias.

Here’s how you can tell we’ve reached the saturation point. We have news and meta-news. In some broadcasts the anchor announces the story and then the camera switches to a picture of a TV screen with another news report playing on that screen. I can search a topic on Google and come up with 3,325 stories posted in the last 24 hours (Sandra Bullock’s breakup, sorry Sandy). And I know that the next time I stop for gas on the Mass Pike, I’ll be able to hear who’s advancing in the NCAA tournament, right there, at the pump!

Just in case you’re still not convinced that there is far too much news coverage in our lives, and it has gotten to the point of dissecting every ridiculous story until your head hurts, I have two words for you: Tiger Woods.

As an adult I’ve learned to be smart about news reporting, but that was before cable TV, before the internet even existed (hey kids, I remember the days when it didn’t have pictures yet!). But I worry about how my sons will process the information being presented to them. Will they be smart enough to understand that they’re being lied to a great deal of the time?

I know my boys are learning some understanding of the news at school because the board of education has an “Analysis of Media” requirement. So that’s comforting. And yet, disturbing in its necessity.

Maybe my kids will be more savvy than me. Some researchers say that these forms of information processing, rather than hindering us, are actually helping our brains evolve. Now that’s exciting stuff. But does my brain have the time and energy to evolve on top of everything else it’s expected to do?

I want to hear fact first, opinion later. So here is my new list of rules for when I get overwhelmed by the white noise of voices blaring at me from every side. 1. Entertainment news is not news. 2. Sports stars are not role models. 3. The Senator from Nevada’s opinion on health care is not fact. 4. Poll results and Top 10 lists are not accurate. 5. If it happened 10 minutes ago, nobody knows what the heck is going on yet, so just wait a while.

I could go on, but that’s a decent start. I will continue to seek out the true investigative reporter (they’re becoming harder to find these days). Stick with PBS, NPR and my good ol’ local newspaper. And realize that at some point, you just have to laugh at it all. Like I did last night, when the gas pump gave me the Tiger Woods update, just hours after I wrote that it would.

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Our Power Over Bullying
February 16, 2010

I have been following the coverage of school bullying in the Gazette with great interest. Many people believe that if we talk about it or punish the bullies or write policies or take away their Facebook pages, it will go away.

But in truth, bullying is a part of life. Whether it’s a school bully, an aggressive coach or even a future boss, this situation is going to happen in our kids’ lives and they need to be prepared. The best thing we can do for our children is to accept this unfortunate fact and teach them how to respond.

As a child care provider, I spend most of my day handling bullying situations. On an instinctual level, our brains are not built for selflessness and compassion. We are emotional animals who are wired for fight or flight. Aggression and strong emotions are our go-to methods of handling a situation, while empathy and kindness are learned behaviors.

Much of the work I do with the kids is to talk about anger, show them how they hurt each other and give them healthy ways to handle their feelings. These are the tools they will need in life.

This instruction shouldn’t end in school because kids are too busy learning how to master standardized tests. But sadly it does, so parents need to take ownership. We are a child’s first and most important role model when it comes to behavior. They look to us to figure out how to handle ourselves in the world, and if we don’t behave, neither will they. Kids learn and mimic what they see, so here’s what we parents need to work on.

* Take a good look at how you treat your kids. If you have ever grabbed your child, pulled them too hard, or hit them, you have bullied them. Do you consistently nag, yell, and lose your temper at them? Do you let your children fight with each other unchecked? Have you had a screaming match with your spouse? All of these incidents teach children how to behave.

OK, so you were human and had a fight. But often we don’t know how to follow up after something like this happens. Discuss the consequences of the fight with your kids. Show them how much you hurt each other and that you apologized afterward. Talk about how you’re going to work to resolve the problem so it won’t happen again.

* Say “I’m sorry.” It’s OK — not just OK, but in fact very powerful — to apologize to your kids. “I’m sorry. I was angry because I asked you to put your shoes on four times and you didn’t. I shouldn’t have yelled, and I know I made you feel bad. But next time, could you put them on when I ask you?” Listen to their response and work with them. Respect your kids so they know they are respectable beings.

* Avoid gossip. In general, boys bully in a physical way and because of this the problem can be addressed sooner. It’s pretty obvious when a child comes home with a bruise or scrape and the situation can be dealt with right away. But girls relate and function in a social realm. They use gossip, rumors and social power to undermine others. This type of bullying doesn’t leave a mark, and that’s why it can go unchecked for so long.

You may not realize that you are engaging in this type of behavior if you have compared your child to another or made derogatory comments about a child or their parents. It creates a climate for bullying because your child hears, “We are better than those people. Their feelings don’t matter to us, and there are no consequences if you hurt them.”

* Channel your inner preschool teacher. I remember thinking that my son’s preschool teacher was totally unreal. How could anyone be so calm, collected and sunshiny all the time, especially when they are surrounded by twenty 3-year-olds? But I realized that she was showing us how you have to treat children if you want them to behave the same way.

She was clear with her expectations, consistent and firm, and she followed up when it was needed. If she did get angry, she calmly told them that she was angry and needed a minute to calm herself down (I told you she was unreal). At first I thought it was ridiculous but when I tried it with my own kids, I realized how effective I could be.

* Get educated. Read “Bullyproof Your Child for Life” by Haber & Glatzer. If you have a hard time connecting with your kids, read “How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk” by Faber & Mazlish. Acknowledge that part of being a parent is teaching your child about what’s out there, not just waiting for something bad to happen and then responding.

The opposite of bullying is empathy, and we have the power to create it. Treat those closest to you with respect and your children will learn to do the same. If we want to raise children who behave, we need to behave ourselves.