Loving and Protecting Other People's Children (and Their Privacy)

Hi. You. Yes, you , my fellow parent. Here you are, in the class with our kids. Aren't they incredible? It's amazing, isn't it, how cute they all are, and how warm and fuzzy it makes us parents feel to see them having fun with each other. Cameras and video cameras don't even really capture it. We'll have to make an emotion memory that the photos and videos will trigger.

The little inside jokes. The things they like. The toothless grins. The grins with teeth a little too large yet for faces still sort of small. Not as small as last year, though, or even last month. They all have something just so particular to the special stage of this age. I don't know how to explain it. It's how they like certain things now, things they didn't appreciate or even know a few months ago, things that may not matter in a little while from now.

There are things right now that our lives revolve around and sometime soon, it will be a memory.

Remember that lovie, the one that had to go everywhere? And it was as important to you because you knew the devastation forgetting it would bring. But really it's because of the unbearable love we have for these precious children. We love them thus we love what they love.

I except some music and television and popular culture things that will unite them in laughter when they are older, "OMG remember when we ADORED Selena Gomez and she was the COOLEST?!?!"

Here our kids are: in this state of who they are right now. Having fun. It's a special occasion, a class party, a performance. Something that brings a little lump to our parental throats if we ponder the path to now -- from squirming newborn to tall, proud child singing and laughing.

We want to capture this, treasure it forever in our hearts and on film.

Someday our children may be apart, moved on, and these photos and videos will remind them Of When. They will point and laugh at photos, "Oh wow, remember her? We were best friends, and were all into pillow pets, loved them!" They'll feel happy and warmed from recalling, and maybe a wee bit sad to have that as the past.

I wasn't there, for that one event, whatever it was, but I was so glad you were, Other Parent, and that you took these super cute photos and shared them with the rest of us on the school photo site.

I also really appreciated that you did not post them on your social media sites. You didn't put my child's image and name on your blog, on your Facebook, on your Twitter, Flickr, Pinterest, Tumblr, Storify, etc. I appreciated that you respected my child's privacy and did not, at least not without asking me first, share my child and her moment with the world at large.

Respecting my child's privacy is so special.

It means you understand that just because my child was there and part of the story that you preserved on film doesn't mean you have the right to distribute that story -- my child, her face, her name -- across the Internet. I'm not sure whether you came up with this on your own, if you read an article somewhere, or if the school was wise enough to say, "Hey parents, remember to respect the other children's privacy and not share their names and photos online," or something like that.

Either way, thanks for not sharing it with the whole world, and thanks for putting it on a private and protected place to share it with me.

Valentine's Day -- Oh Yes, the Little Gestures Matter

Guys (men and women) you have to celebrate this holiday. In some way. Any way. Big. Small. A way that will let the person you love know you love him or her. Old or young, it matters.

It matters for a lot of reasons. The surface one is that it's because our culture celebrates this holiday and all around each of us is this huge message of SHOW YOUR LOVE.

We may say we don't buy into it, or shun "Hallmark" holidays but I am going to call BS on that. Nobody is that cool. Nobody never needs someone to show their love. Nobody ever learns to live perfectly well without love. We all need to feel loved, in some way.

And, on special days, like today, we like to see it in some special way.

I say this as someone who used to think she was too cool, too strong, too modern to need flowery hearts and fake holiday sentiment.

Until I finally admitted I did, said so, and improved my marriage.

When we got married, we had an emotional "pre-nup" in which he made me swear to never surprise him for his birthday (party-wise) or have waiters sing to him in a restaurant. He hated that stuff. We were still in our "cool youth ennui" stage of life. We eschewed artificial trappings and Hallmark holidays and materialism. We were about modernity and independence and keeping it real, man.

See, we met (and married) when we were really, really young. Like wet behind the ears, barely formed frontal lobe young. Sure we thought we were adults: out of college, degree(s) in hand, paying our own way, real professional jobs. HA! I can look back now, nearly 20 years later and say that: HA!

We were young and silly, but the emotional "pre-nup" was a pretty decent idea, except we didn't do a "what to do" part. We only did a "don't ever do this to me" part, which was fine, but only half the story. To tell the truth, I don't think we even knew what we needed, at that time. Or maybe we didn't know how to express it, fully.

I thought, silly girl, that I wasn't worthy and anyway I was a Modern Woman and we did not need that crap. Plus, after my experience growing up, I swore on my own grave I'd never need a man to fulfill me. In fact, we each had our own reasons for having up a pretty solid emotional wall. So we were both stalwart. HA!

But he is a sap and I am a romantic. He's got a better backbone, though. So for years I did all those silly little things: little birthday wishes all over the house, cake with candles after dinner and the occasional party; notes in his briefcase or shoes; special made plans; gifts; poems; even sent him flowers etc. These were all double messages, you know:

Love me love me love me

show me show me show me

see what I love to give and to get I love you

here's how I see love

I tell you this way and

hear it from you this way too

do you see how love looks to me

love me love me love me

show me show me show me

And he, not so much. From the very beginning, I steeled myself and pretended I didn't need it, didn't care. But I was unhappy about it.

I loved him every other day because he is a great guy, except those days. I started really hating holidays and birthdays.

I grew to understand what it was that I needed, and turns out, it is paper hearts and flowers. Or sticky notes with poems. Or a box of chocolates. Or a foot rub. As it turns out, I am not that picky and am pretty easy to please, so long as you try.

See, what I really needed, just sometimes, was for my love to step out of the daily box and do a little something special. I needed my love to know how I saw love, and put effort into speaking my love language for a day. Because that's love.

So I told him this.

He confessed he liked my little things I did, that they mattered to him.

Now he does those little things for me because he learned to value them, to admit he needed them, but mostly, because he values me and our marriage and is willing to do these things for that. That's love.

I don't know what your love is, who it is with or how it looks. It might be roses. It might be a sticky note with special words on it. It might be a lover or a best friend or a child or a parent.

But you...YOU...deserve to get that love today and on other special days. YOU deserve to give that love, too.

I like Hallmark or contrived holidays. I like a cultural tradition of take time, be together, express care. It's easy to take things, people for granted. It's easy to get consumed by the rote and routine of life. Do a love day today. If you just can't bring yourself to buy into it, say I love you along with a why, at least. And make sure you do something romantic, special, loving and passionate on another occasion.

Today I am looking forward to a Valentine from him. He tells me he loves me in many ways every day, and that's nice. I do see that. But getting something special, that's nice too.

In a relationship, it is so important, those expressions of passion and love and romance and sentiment. In fact, it's priceless.

Have a very expressive Valentine's Day, friends!

We Are Unfair to Grief

A painting from Hope Lodge, NYC, taken during a tour with our ACS BAC group, which included Susan. A painting we admired.

When you are grieving, I told my friend Devra as we talked last night---the last day of our friend Susan's life--when you are grieving, I think you are insane, a little. Devra explained to me that in Judaism the literal translation for grief is "out of your mind," and you must give space to grievers to be out of their minds.

That’s right.

In the face of loss, people deserve space to be out of their minds. And they will get back in their minds in their own time, not when people are tired of their grief and ready for them to move on.

We are unfair to grief, I think, treating it as an enemy or a disease to be fought. We do not succumb to grief. We do not lose to grief. We engage grief. It gives us the time our hearts need for us to be out of our minds.

Right now I am a little out of my mind. A lovely, amazing, inspirational woman is finished. Her body stopped.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

-- WH Auden

I mourn. Oh all the wonderfulness of her, all she was and did in so little time. How much more might she have…but, it is a design, I have faith. Thank you, God, for the time of Susan that we had.

I hold it true, whate'er befall;

I feel it, when I sorrow most;

'Tis better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all.

-- Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam:27, 1850

Cold comfort. Because we mourn. We grieve. We are out of our minds. Thank you grief, for the space to admit the blessing of a person, and the pain of her loss; for the time to know who she was and what she meant to us; for the loss of sanity when we mourn out loud so the world knows the new hole in our sky, the tear in our hearts.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one.

-- W H Auden

And then, one day, our minds will return to us, when our heart retreats, our grief recedes. One day we will know the miracle it has been, the life, and that is the part we’ll think of most of all.

Oh what better thing to finish with for Susan--bright star always, lady of planetary science, answerer of why, belly laugher, sensitive understanding heart, tremendous warrior advocate, bringer of greater good, feet on the ground, 200 watt mind--than another beautiful quote about still being there just because we knew her.

In one of the stars, I shall be living.

In one of them, I shall be laughing.

And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing when you look at the sky at night.

-- Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince

Many blessings to Susan’s family. And wishes to you for all that you need during this time.

Are you as courageous as a 7 year old?

This past weekend my younger daughter waited in a waiting room for "forever" (approximately 45 minutes), then stood in a line in a hall for "even longer" (approximately 20 minutes), and finally heard her number called (not her name). It was her turn. She walked into a room and stood in front of four adults and sang her heart out. All by herself.

She had the boldness and courage to walk into a room and audition for a show. She put herself out there to go for something she really wanted. She had the wisdom to know what she wanted.

She'd had about two days(ish) to prepare. We learned about the opportunity to do this on Thursday. We spent a little time that evening selecting a song. Then, she applied herself for two straight hours learning the melody and lyrics. The next day was a school day but still, under her own motivation, she worked that evening memorizing and getting comfortable. The next morning, thanks to some generous and talented family, we went to her aunt's to practice singing with a piano and sheet music. That was a whole new ball to learn to toss.

She had many what ifs:

• What if I forget to sing?

• What if I forget the words?

• What if I sound bad?

• What if they think I sound bad?

• What if I don't start at the right time in the music?

• What if I wear the wrong thing?

• What if I don't know where to go?

• What if I get nervous?

• What if I am so nervous I can't sing or talk?

Her what-ifs reached a fever pitch shortly before the audition, as her nervousness grew. I debated fiercely inside myself about whether to offer her an out but decided to not offer it. I thought it was more important to respect her ability by believing in her absolutely -- offering an out seemed, somehow, in this case, to be a message that undermined her. She knows she can quit, and I rather expected she'd bring that up. I really wasn't sure what I'd do if she did -- talk with her about it, I suppose, try to encourage her to try anyway, after all the work she did -- but not once did she ever out loud entertain the idea of giving up.

She decided on her own to stay in and when the time came, she walked in to that room alone and pulled what she needed from within herself and did it.

I said she walked in there all by herself but she wasn't ever really alone. She had a lot of supporters there in spirit.

I offered her the chance to do this and supported her through it because I believe in her, absolutely. Her father was the ditto to that. Her uncle told her he feels nervous at auditions too and he's been to tons of them. Her aunt described the process in detail until she could visualize it. Her grandmother printed out the sheet music in two keys to help her figure out which she preferred and told her to use nerves for energy. We all talked with her, talked her through, her what-ifs.

She is rich in this support and encouragement. It gives you the confidence to believe you can try. But in truth, choosing to walk through that door is all her, all her and her alone.

She did mess up. Her knees knocked and her stomach butterflied, she told me. But she did it. She even will have a spot of some sort in the show, nothing lead or key, just a bit of chorus here and there.

When she returned from the audition to meet me in the lobby, I did not ask her how it went, what happened, what they said, or anything like that. I had thought long and hard the entire time she was gone about what mattered, what to ask and how to phrase it.

"What do you think now that you have finished this?" I asked her.

"I think it was hard and a lot of work, and I was really scared," she said.

"I see," I said, listening.

"I'm glad, though and can't wait to do the show!"

She felt proud of herself for working so hard to prepare, for walking in that room, and for taking a chance.

She may just be chorus in the show but she was the lead in her own life.

Are you as courageous as a seven year old?

Killing Them Off -- A New Year's Resolution

Oh dem bones. I have realized I spent a great deal of time in a state of aggravation due to asking Rhetorical Questions, particularly of the parent variety. So, for 2012, I am pledging to do my best to lay to rest the following:

What were you thinking!?!

Why did you do that?!?

Is that really a good idea?!?

Does this go here?

Why why why?!?

Are you using your head!?!

What did you think I would say?!?

What did you think would happen?

Can anyone else in this house...
...replace toilet paper?

...put things away?

...toss laundry in the hamper?

...close it if you opened it?

And so on.

Largely because these are passive aggressive and not really what I mean.

So I want to say what I mean.

Fill the pitcher when you empty it, please.

Put on a fresh roll of toilet paper when you use the last bit, please.

When you get a flying toy stuck on the roof, come ask us for help solving that problem, please.

Put away those toys where they go, please.

What are your ideas to fix this?

And so on.

More constructive talk.

Less of all the rest.

How about you?

To Card or Not To Card: Perpetuating Holiday Traditions (or Not)

Recently, there was a discussion about holiday etiquette, which was really just a catchy timely headline for everyday etiquette because it was just about thank you notes.

That same discussion -- with its preference for handwritten notes -- has echoed around my circles lately. In general, I am the minority who think that email is all right for sending a thanks or expression of appreciation.

I'm kind of in the Warm Fuzzy camp, I guess, when it comes to sending good wishes and positive sentiment -- Bring It On!

I have the same philosophy about holiday cards: I really don't care what your reason for the season is, if you want to wish me and mine well, I'll take it! And hopefully, you'll accept my wishes for you and yours, too. But oooh boy have I ever heard some actually rude sentiments around this -- both from the recipient side. I've heard some people say they only accept cards that are specifically Christmas cards. ACK! I've also heard people who do not celebrate Christmas resent any type of good wishes this time of year, even innocuous Peace ones.

"That's just a mask over Christmas; I know which holiday they really mean!" the angry person told me.

For the fourth time that week I replied, "Hmm, well it varies year to year a bit but isn't it Hanukkah about now, with Kwanzaa and Christmas coming up? I think Islam is out for this month but sometimes I think they are in. Isn't it kind of cool to see all the major monotheistic religions sort of coming together in a positive spirit with good wishes across religious borders?"

"No," the person snapped. That person was frustrated because she felt her own personal atheism was being trampled and disrespected.

I can sort of see the perspective. Rick Perry's opinion (or whatever that is) aside, Christmas is sort of crammed down our throats starting earlier and earlier and getting bigger and bigger every year. Also, the ante keeps getting upped. Charities and retailers alike count on The Most Wonderful Time of the Year more and more as the economy keeps hurting, and the desperate stakes messages can slam you hard. It's a barrage by mid-November.

Still. I hope people don't lump their friends who just want to say Happy New Year in with that.

Sometimes my cards are vague: Peace-Love-Joy. Sometimes I just get to the point and don't obfuscate: Merry Christmas. But my message is always the same: I wish you and yours well.

I've tried doing this different times of the year, such as Valentine's Day. But it just doesn't feel the same. Also, it caused me to fall off a lot of card lists. I'm still trying to recover.

I like sending holiday cards this time of year.

I've sent photo cards with a pictorial trip through our family year, a single photo with a short message, a beautiful design card with a typed letter inside regaling friends and family about our exploits, and many other iterations. Right now it's a card with several shots of our family individually and together. I guess this year it's about who we are -- a family -- more than where we've been and what we've done.

Whatever the style, I am so very excited every single time I go to the mailbox and find a new well-wishing card inside. I love sending and receiving holiday cards. I hardly care how they look (although they are always so gorgeous and individual), or what they say (although I breathe in the sentiment). I only care that they are and they are from you and you sent one to me.

I'm passing it on, too. I got the cutest little ornament cards for the kids to give to their teachers and good friends.

The girls, I've noticed, adore everything and anything to do with the Christmas season. Elf on the shelf (and everywhere else in the house), putting up decorations in stages (hey, I'm only human, a little here, a little there), watching holiday shows (wow, film makers were busy this past year -- there is a new one every day, though we stick to classics mainly), and so on. It's a chance for me to say things such as, "This show came out the year I was born and I've watched it every single year since." They don't know who some of the famous characters are -- Burl Ives, Bing Crosby -- and I delight in telling them. When cards arrive, they stare at the photos, sometimes making an observation, sometimes asking a question. I delight in telling them about thoughtful Aunt Dolly in Chicago who sends them handmade ornaments in cards every year, and how most of the ornaments on our tree are from her. They like hearing about far away cousins and family.

It brings us together.

So yeah, put me on Team Card. And Team Holiday Letter.

I know we keep up via Facebook and email and occasional passings by at school or events, but it's nice to know we're friends here, too.

So...to card or to not card?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I've bought cards from a variety of sources -- sometimes charities, sometimes stationary stores, sometimes big box stores. I'm personally a big fan of the photo card, and being able to create it from the comfort of my desk and in my own time.

This year I tried out three different sites and services. I won't name the ones I didn't select because frankly, they were okay, just not a fit for me and what matters most to me.

My 2011 cards -- mine personally and the kids -- came from Tiny Prints. I went there first because I'd gotten cards from them before and was happy, but being a savvy shopper I had to try a few other spots too. I ended up going back to them.

What I liked there over other spots:

• lots of designs and styles, definitely a lot I liked
• a lot of layouts that can work for whatever you want to do
• once you pick a design, you can select among more customizing layouts
• you upload and store photos, which you can use over and over
• you can edit photos in small ways (zoom in or out, sepia, black and white, shift) that enable you to tweak photos in place and see how it looks
• they have customer service available to help (which I've used)

I liked being able to save my designs so I could do them in my own time. Best of all, though, was knowing that staff checked it to ensure it looked good and would do a fix if it needed it.

The card looked great on the screen, but when it arrived, it exceeded my expectations. The paper was very high quality and the right stock (nongloss) that I could use a pen to sign it. The colors were rich and true to what I expected from the screen, and the photos were crisp and perfect. I was really happy with these, and so glad to send them out to friends and family.

I also appreciated the messages letting me know the status.

I did pay for the cards myself and had received them when Tiny Prints contacted me with a promo code. So in fair disclosure, they did end up providing the cards for the kids and gave me a credit. However, they did not ask for this review or demand anything in return, and this post and my review is fully my own opinion. In fact, when they contacted me, I was already a satisfied customer.

It's because it wasn't what we wanted to hear

My friend Devin shared a site of links to the Jerry Sandusky case, along with a commentary.

If you don't know what is going on with Jerry Sandusky, catch up here. There are a string of articles under Top Stories.

In short, from one article:

Jerry Sandusky, a former defensive coordinator under Paterno, has been charged with sexually abusing eight boys across a 15-year period, and Paterno has been widely criticized for failing to involve the police when he learned of an allegation of one assault of a young boy in 2002.

Read more.

I read through the commentary and I heard the exact feelings any sane, feeling person would have: bewildered, angry, judgmental, and worse.

My husband I just went through a class called "Safeguarding God's Children." It was our second go-round, and it hadn't changed a bit in the intervening years. It's part of the training and certification the church requires in order for you to participate in children's activities now, such as go on field trips, attend class parties, etc. Only the church requires this of parents of students and we all know why.

You'd think the training would at least make a pretense of being about overall child welfare, but it doesn't. It is unashamedly specifically about child sexual abuse. It is unabashedly about teaching adults to watch for signs and how to report it. It teaches by sucking your soul out through your mouth by way of videos from predators, parents of victims and the victims themselves.

You are left sitting in a room with people who cannot look one another in the eye for at least a week afterwards. Statistics say odds are someone in that room was abused or know someone who was, and worse, that possibly someone was a predator.

The instructor was clear: you do know it when you see it, and you should never talk yourself out of it. It's not your choice to make, to decide whether it is or isn't something or whether someone should do something. What you do is report it and let experts figure it out.

There are a lot of scare stories about "false allegations" that "ruin lives."

I can tell you I know at least five families who have been investigated and I guarantee most people never knew. How did I know? Because each of them told me.

They were all innocent, proved so, and resumed life as normal after dealing with what happened. In the end, as angry and scared as it made them, each confided to me that on some level, they'd rather these things be taken seriously and investigated.

But I bet for each of those five families there were 20 people who should have been investigated and were not.

Why not?

It's because it wasn't what we wanted to hear.

I was just listening to Joan Didion talk about being a parent --well, and, a person really -- and how this one time she was line editing her daughter Quintana's writing and was completely missing the pain and anxiety her daughter was expressing. She did eventually realize her daughter wasn't writing sunshine and roses, but she said that all the while her daughter was borderline personality with severe depression and so forth, she was also very amusing.

"And amusing is what I could relate to," Didion said.

She went on to say that we are so bounded by what we expect and can relate to that sometimes we tune out what is really being said to us.

It's a sort of listening block.

I think it's also an empathic failure: we don't want what is, to be. And so we tune it out and tune into what appeals to us. It leaves us, often, confused and befuddled by what seems to be a sudden action on the part of someone we know. But also, we like to please those we care about, and so we can be very good at putting on the right show, or enough of it, to maintain the myth.

Also, ramifications can be very scary. Worse in our minds, usually.

But also, we inherently know that nobody likes a whistle blower.

The kid who made everyone recognize the emperor wore no clothes never had a statue made in his honor. In fact, we don't rally know what happened to him because all the news reported was some kid yelling and then attention switched back to the emperor and the canny, con artist tailors.

We need to be cautious about where we fixate our attention. It's easy to look only at the thing that inspires our first, fastest and most familiar emotion: anger. It's easy to fixate on accused, the perpetrator, the guilty. It's easier to sit in place as judge and jury.

It's much, much harder to sit in the place of the victim.

That's if we can process and believe, that is. Most of the time we can't, because it's not what we expected to hear. It's not what we wanted to hear. It wasn't what worked for us. It was not what we could relate to.

And so...we tune out. We minimize. We rationalize.

"It didn't seem like that big of a deal." "It didn't seem like anything criminal."

It's because it wasn't what we wanted to hear. Somebody had a good thing going and didn't want to disrupt that.

I get it. It's not easy to be the disrupter. It easy to be the Monday morning quarterback, pun intended. Of course, from over here, from now, it seems obvious what should have been done.

We need to know how, though. The one thing that was most useful in the training class we had to take was the lessons about how to confront.

I'm watching. I see.

I'm looking at and listening to the vulnerable. The victims.

Best protections. Ever.