This wonderful one minute video is a public service announcement by the children’s literacy non-profit organization, Reading is Fundamental (RIF). If this doesn’t inspire a parent to read to their kids, I’m not sure what will. Share it with your video gaming kids and see if it sparks their own desire to read more books (I’m betting it will!)

Nearly two-thirds of low income families in the United States own no books. Remember to donate your used kids’ books to schools, libraries, and organizations that support children of low-income households. Canadians can learn more about supporting literacy by visiting ABC Life Literacy.

Watch and enjoy!

A cell phone can hamper a child's leap toward adulthood

My soon-to-be 12-year-old son periodically pleads for a cell phone when he grows weary of watching his classmates constantly text on their cell phones as he twiddles his underused thumbs.

“Everyone has a cell phone EXCEPT me!” he exclaims with desperation.

“No,” I respond, my cold mono-syllabic reply cutting deep into his soul (I know this because of the ensuing tears and accusations of how cruel a mother I am).

While I prefer to leave the conversation right then and there, my son will ensue with the false hope that I will recognize the breadth of his suffering. But, here’s the thing. Buying my son a cell phone isn’t like buying an iPod, that, by the way, was also essential to his very survival as a tween (and once purchased, quelled the pleading for, um, a few weeks).  The cell phone is an ongoing gift that keeps on taking (from my wallet). But even more than the financial drain, the cell phone has the potential to undermine his journey toward independence.

If I were to purchase my son a cell phone, it would enable me to send him texts.

All. Day. Long.

u forgot ur math book

Don’t take bus I pickup

Bringing pizza 4 lunch

Having a good day?

Going to buy u underwear 2day

What pants u want me to wash?

Going on run. txt u when im back

I’ve spent the past 11 years fostering my son’s independence. Slowly disconnecting the figurative umbilical cord (of which he’s been more than happy to oblige). Yet a cell phone seems as though it would, to some extent, re-build that connection with a digital umbilical cord that is no less potent than the figurative one.

When I think back to my own childhood, my memories are a treasure chest of parent-free experiences where I strengthened my bonds with those outside my family, made decisions that – good or bad – I learned to live with, and in essence, prepared myself for the bigger decisions I’d one day be making. By the time I was 12 years old, I’d think nothing of heading straight to my friend, Erica’s, house after school without calling home to check in. I knew dinner time was at 5pm. So, that’s when I’d scoot back home. On weekends, I’d hop on my bike and take off to the park with Erica and Joanne, then hit another friend’s place for lunch, ride to the convenience store for some packs of Rainblo, find another friend’s house to make crank calls. Go home for dinner. All with nary a thought about my mom or dad. They didn’t worry about where I was. I didn’t worry about telling them. Pure golden independence.

I understand that many parents (including myself) worry about the safety of their kids, and hence, see the almighty cell phone as an assurance of safety. They may say, “I always know where he is. We text all day long so that if he’s at the park, I know. If he goes to friend’s house, I know. I never have to worry.”

Funnily enough, my mom never had to worry either. Because she trusted me. “It’s not a matter of trust,” many parents will argue. I get it. Yes, there’s a possibility that a child may be kidnapped – every parent’s biggest fear. But the chances of that actually happening are slim. We all know that. So, maybe it is trust?

As I observe my sons grow increasingly independent, I feel great pride in their ability to make smart decisions. They know how to keep out of trouble. They are respectful of adults and one another. And, I especially love that they are learning through their own mistakes. For a child entering in his tweens, I think there is no greater reward than having freedom from, well, Mom. For the millions of kids who are equipped with smart phones, that’s impossible as good ol’ ma beeps them every fifteen minutes:

Where r u? Having fun?:D

Making ur fave dinner Come home soon.

And, what should happen to a child who ignores Mom’s beep? Probably a lecture when he returns home to NEVER ignore mom’s messages.

When my son begs for a cell phone, I don’t think he understands the full ramifications of what he is asking. He is a naturally free spirited boy who’s been working diligently toward full independence since he was about two years old. As much as I love his company and could very easily fall into the trap of wanting to ensure he is 100% safe 100% of the time, I recognize that a cell phone will encourage me to grow increasingly attached to his every decision, every worry, every moment. Conversely, my son will likely grow increasingly reliant on my approval and permission when he really should be moving in the opposite direction.

Twelve years is, truly, a transformational age for kids. When their youthful creativity and sense of independence swirl together to create magical experiences that straddle the world of childhood and adulthood. Experiences that will help them become the amazing adults they are meant to become.

Mom’s constant presence, whether digital or real, will hamper that from happening.

On my eighth birthday, I’d received a light pink bikini as a present from an aunt. While the adults ooh’d and ahhh’d at how cute it was, I feigned gratitude as I my stomach twisted into knots. Me? Wear that little thing? I was finally persuaded to try it on, but then refused to leave the bathroom to let anyone see me. “Yep, it fits,” was all I could muster before twisting the new bikini into a ball and hiding it in the corner of a bathroom cupboard, never to be seen again.

I was, you see, exceedingly modest. Even at the unripened age of eight. And, I felt too exposed – too naked – in anything smaller than a tank bathing suit. Growing up in an ultra-conservative and Catholic household, my mother had taught me and my two sisters to take great care in protecting our youthful bodies from overt display. This, she hoped, would help protect us from being leered at by potential predators and from ever wanting to play “doctor” with the boy down the street. (Which we would never have dreamed of doing.)

Fast forward to today, and this rigid thinking might easily be dismissed as old fashioned and out of touch with the laissez-faire attitude of sexuality. After all, thanks to television, movies, and the internet, a child can access anything from girls in skimpy bikinis to full out pornography with a few typos in a google search (or not). The less supervision in a household, the greater the likelihood a child will be exposed to inappropriate content. Hence, the disturbing stories that pop up every once in a while about young students performing sexual acts in school that, frankly, they should neither know about, nor want to engage in.

Some school systems across North America have resolved to push kids into more robust sex education as the solution for preventing today’s over-exposed kids from taking part in illicit behaviours. Their reasoning is based on the assumption that every kid knows about the birds and the bees (and then some…), so better to learn from a trusted source than a hip hop artist. And, if they don’t, well, just trust us (the school) to introduce every 12-year-old to the concept of fellatio. Uh, really? While I agree with the underlying logic of this thinking, I also believe that kids would benefit from one simple message that seems to have disappeared completely from this discussion. A message that can help prevent them from even wanting to role model what they see online.

Teach them to “Protect your privates.”  I know – has a real ring to it, doesn’t it?

Parents and teachers could use sexual education as a platform to not only teach young kids about sexuality, but to instruct them that, despite the proliferation of naked body parts on screens, their own private parts are, well, private. That is, not for sharing, unless Mom and Dad say it’s okay (like the doctor’s office, bath time). Kids would, in fact, be learning modesty. (Remember that word?)

I’m not calling for a country-wide ban on thongs, nor pleading for a distribution of turtlenecks to be worn by every female. I’m just pointing out the power of the simple message to kids –  keep your private parts private – to help offset the endless stream of sexual messages flooding our kids’ vision.

We can’t stop them from seeing the Victoria’ Secret TV ads that pop up unexpectedly, or LMFAO’s Sexy and I Know It music video proliferating YouTube, nor naked pictures of almost every celebrity of the last decade. (I’m hoping we can prevent them from seeing online pornography, but even that is not a guarantee.) But despite all their exposure, kids are capable of understanding that, although these adults participate in such behaviour, you need to be respectful of your own body’s need for privacy.

As they grow to adulthood, and have developed a context for sexuality, they can make set their own limits for what is acceptable. After all, it happened to me… I now wear a bikini.

Image provided by http://www.graphics-and-desktop-icons.com/cartoon-bikini.html

My eldest son is almost twelve years old and the rules of the household are becoming increasingly “optional” in his mind. Mind you, he has always been alarmingly adept at finding clever detours to get around the rules that I so painstakingly try to uphold.

For years, the boys have been forbidden to turn on the television before going to school. It encourages a harmonious morning routine and inhibits the likelihood of the kids missing their school bus, and hence, being late for school. Before implementing the rule, I’d wasted far too much time begging (read: yelling at) my kids to turn off the TV as they blissfully ignored me. On the best of days, they would begrudgingly unplug themselves from the TV screen, rush to grab jackets, boots, bag, and leave me with three half-empty cereal bowls to clear from the coffee table. On the worst of days, we would become embroiled in a family feud that would make the housewives of New Jersey cringe, during which time the bus would roll on by, and I’d be forced to drive them, late, to school.

However, my No TV rule keeps our mornings as honky-dory as a Mr. Rogers episode. That is changing, bit by bit, thanks to the introduction of the iPod into our household. Now that my son owns one of these digital devices, my coveted screen-free mornings are quickly becoming a thing of the past.

My son's morning fix

Although it is not as disruptive as a big screen TV show, his new morning ritual is causing some tension. Not the least of which is among his younger brothers who regularly remind me that their older brother is breaking not one, but two rules. No TV in the mornings, and no video games from Monday to Thursday. And, why can’t they, too?

Needless to say, I am spending more energy begging him to turn off his screen. Typically, he turns it off before I must resort to yelling, however he likes to remind me that it is HIS iPod and therefore, has every right to use it (he knows he’s skating on thin ice with this reasoning, but like I said, he likes rule detours).

As much as I detest the sight of the above image, we have come to an amicable arrangement. He is allowed to turn on his iPod to check his email, texts, and DragonVale.He has convinced me that the game DragonVale needs regular attention to maintain (funnily enough, so does our dog, but he doesn’t seem too concerned about staying on top of that).

My middle son, God bless him, is still in the voracious reading stage, so I’m more likely to find him reading a book than staring at a screen most mornings. I will try to enjoy every wonderful moment of it before he becomes a tween himself. And, yes, that includes ignoring his continued pleas to have his own iPod.

A part of the morning ritual that I encourage

I just received my Home Digest in the mail. It’s a free mini-magazine that is chalk full of advertising with a few articles sprinkled throughout about home decor. As usual, I quickly perused it and planned to toss it into my recycle bin a few minutes later. But, this time, something caught my eye.

One full page ad (5.5 inches x 8.5 inches) was emblazoned with a full colour display of before and after breast augmentation photos. Three photos to be exact, comparing the progress from flat, droopy boobs to perky full boobs, and finally the LOOK! No scars Ma! Photo (The model even has her arms raised).

I’ve seen a lot of boobies in my day, particularly due to the fact that I have a pair, myself, that have undergone their own journey from perky to tired. So, it’s not because I’m shocked and offended by these graphics, but rather it’s the context and the message that is implicit in this ad.

I have to ask: why is an ad featuring bare breasts in a Home Design magazine, at all? I might expect to see this kind of blatant advertising in Cosmo or InStyle, but not in the pages of a decor-based mag. The odd time that I open the pages of a fashion magazine, however, I can’t recall ever seeing half naked women.

Secondly, the message of the ad, and its accompanying article written by the owner of Skin Vitality Medical Clinic is just plain icky. As if we, the readers, are supposed to look at the model’s small “before” breasts and think they need fixing. Because women are supposed to have a certain size of boobs. And not only that, they should defy all laws of gravity by hovering beside the shoulders with no help from that old-fashioned watchamacallit brazier.

Lastly, I have three young boys whom I’d prefer to not find nudey shots of women in a free mini magazine we get in the mailbox. In the olden days, didn’t they at least have to go out in the dark of night to buy something like that and hide it between the mattress and box spring? In any event, my kids are even too young to do that.

Funnily enough, when I look at the back cover Home Digest, I see a full page ad with a headline across the top that reads: Your Family Deserves The Best.

Damn right. Let’s start with no more freebies in the mailbox.

What kind of mother are you? Other than the guilt-ridden kind, that is. Sometimes it feels like no matter how hard we try to be the kind of parent we think we should be, our efforts often devolve into feelings of guilt over our inadequacies. It doesn’t help that advice-filled articles, blog posts, and workshops abound reminding moms what they should and shouldn’t do to raise well-adjusted children.

Chances are, unless you share your genetic makeup with Mary Poppins, you will never live up to the standards you’ve set for yourself. That is, unless you have a clear understanding of what type of person you are. Because believe it, or not, motherhood is as much about embracing the person you’ve turned out to be as it is embracing the young children you’ve brought into the world.

Not sure who, exactly, you are? Enter the MotherStyles Quiz. It is based on the book, MotherStyles, by Janet Penley, which is meant to help women understand, develop, and trust the strengths of their unique mothering style. According to their website, MotherStyles (both the quiz and the book) helps you “break through the myth of the perfect mother and equips you with the self-knowledge you need to become a more effective Drawing on the Myers-Briggs® system of personality type, popular in career counseling and team building, MotherStylesexplains the innate mind-sets that make up 16 distinct mothering approaches.”

I took the expanded quiz, which lasts about 10 minutes and concludes with a description that details your personality type as it relates to your role as a mother with specifics on whether you are sensing or intuitive, thinking or feeling, and judging or perceiving. For me, it was bang-on with what I’ve come to recognize as the type of person I am. Although, for me, this is not particularly revelatory since I’m now 39 years old and undergone 11 years of parenting boot camp (raising three boys), counselling, and constant reading to research why, well, I have sucked at parenting so much of the time (that’s my old guilt talking, by the way). In essence, it has confirmed what I’ve already come to recognize in myself.

Although this quiz may not change any mother’s life overnight, it provides a perfect starting point for anyone struggling with a constant stream of guilt over her parenting practices. MotherStyles accepts that every mother is unique, and once each of us accepts and loves our uniqueness, we can stop wringing our hands over what we’re doing wrong and embrace how to do things right – right, that is, for ourselves and our families.

Here’s my MotherStyle conclusions for the quiz. As I wrote earlier, although I know this information about myself now, it took me ten years of struggle to realize that I do not have to completely conform to motherhood, but rather motherhood can conform to me. I believe that striking a balance between the practical demands of parenting and the personal demands of your individuality is key to becoming the best mother you can be.

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My just-turned-10-year-old son is begging to read The Hunger Games. My oldest son, who is almost 12 years old, finished reading it a month ago. All three of my sons (ages 7 to 11) have informed me that the school population is abuzz about the book’s movie. Which is a bit odd.

“It’s about kids killing kids,” I’ve explain to my middle son. “And it is extremely violent and disturbing.”

“You mean, like when the guy gets chewed up by that wolf monster at the end?” my 12-year-old pipes in. “And when that guy gets stabbed at the beginning of the games.”

Yes, that and many more. The book is rife with bloody scenes that are a far cry from those depicted in the Henry Huggins book I’m reading to all of them every night before they fall asleep.

I, personally, read the entire Hunger Games series over a year ago. And I loved it. The main character, Katniss, is one of my favourite literary heroines of all time. She’s smart, resourceful, caring, and strong. We see the horrible atrocities through her sympathetic eyes, and this is what makes story such a compelling and worthwhile read. Even for younger readers.

However, I am still on the fence as to whether I’m ready to allow my 10-year-old son to read it. Because the story is so well-crafted, it is not mere violence for the sake of violence – which might make it easier to dismiss as ridiculous. The Hunger Games has the potential to alter a young person’s impression of their world because it is that good at portraying the evil of the situation. And, furthermore, each novel in the series (there are three) grows more violent, to the point of being hard to read by the final instalment.

If you are a parent grappling with whether the books are appropriate for your child, I’d recommend reading the series yourself (particularly for readers younger than 12 years old). This will allow you to determine if your child is able to handle such a disturbingly violent work. You know your child best. Furthermore, if the answer end up being yes, the books provide ample fodder to talk about how your child reacts to the themes of killing for survival, corrupt governments, and the atrocities of war.

The next question on every parents mind (or perhaps the only question for some) is: Should I take my child to The Hunger Games movie? I am of the persuasion that younger viewers should read the book first. As violent as the book remains, at least the young reader is limited by the boundaries of his or her imagination. A movie, on the other hand, can portray scenes that seem far more disturbing and realistic than what may be hazy, at best, in, say, an 11-year-old’s mind.

Most parents, from what I’ve seen, base their movie-going decisions on the MPAA ratings. Now, this is where things get interesting. Across the United States, the movie has a PG-13 rating. This means that a child under the age of 13 must be accompanied by an adult. In other words – parents beware of mature themes and dialogue. Strangely, here in Ontario, the Ontario Film Review Board has given the Hunger Games movie the lesser PG rating. This would put The Hunger Games in the same category as The Adventures of TinTin. Does anyone else find this baffling? My son doesn’t even need my permission to go. He can go on his own with a gang of 11-year-olds. Kinda’ sucks, doesn’t it?

The MPAA describes the highly anticipated movie as: “Intense Violent Thematic Material and Disturbing Images.” Unfortunately, because of Ontario’s odd choice in parental ratings, many moms and dads will not give any thought to the possibility that The Hunger Games may be upsetting to fresh-faced young viewers because of the harmless PG rating. For clarity around the different MPAA ratings, check out my earlier blog piece while explains the difference in detail.

The final verdict in my household is this:

I, personally, can’t wait to see the movie. I loved the books (the first one is best), and the critics’ reviews are stellar. My oldest son has asked to see the film, as well. I have agreed to take him, although I plan to go with him so that we can talk about it when it is over. (I can also get a sense of how he reacts to certain unpleasant scenes.)  I will not let my 10-year-old watch the movie, and have yet to decide on whether he can read the series.  I fear that these stories will stain his sweet mind with questions for which I don’t feel he is prepared.

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