Etiquette for parents, non-parents and would-be parents

I lucked out when I became a parent.  I had my kids at the same time many of my friends were having theirs and while this made those early years a lot more fun, it also spared me (and them) from the social minefield that sometimes occurs within a group of friends when one becomes a parent and "breaks up the band".

I always wanted to be a mother and knew that it would happen eventually so I enjoyed several years of career development, travel, sleep, dating and partying safe in the knowledge that one day I would be ready to put aside my dancing shoes for something different, something with staying power.

During these years, colleagues would have babies and bring them into the office for viewing and while I'd ooh and aah along with everyone else, I was in such a different head space that much of it seemed obligatory and after ten minutes or so, I'd wonder back to my office to think about the weekend's plans.

These days my weeknights and weekends tend to revolve around my kids - helping them with homework, going to the dollar store for project supplies, attending birthday parties and ferrying them to swimming, karate, soccer and other activities.  When I do go out with girlfriends, it's usually a quick lunch squeezed in between our respective appointments and we seem to talk mostly about parenting.  It's not that we're incapable of more sophisticated conversation; it's just that we're at a stage in life where parenting is important and all-encompassing and that's where the discussion usually gravitates.  There is an unspoken assumption that we will eventually move out of this stage and resume our life of partying, albeit aboard a seniors river cruise.

Not all my friends have children.  I have some friends who have chosen not to have children and others who would like to become parents but haven't been successful so far.  Finding conversation that works for everyone is a bit of a delicate balance.  For example, several years ago, I spent an afternoon with four old friends.  At the time, four of us had babies and one was happily child-free.  The parents were swapping war stories of sleepless nights and endless exhaustion and after a while our childless friend snapped, "If having children is so unpleasant, why did you even bother?" A chill set over the conversation before I gently explained that what may seem like complaining was really a way of bonding and coping with the challenges of new motherhood.  Her question was rude but she had a point and we hadn't realized we had been excluding her.

I can chat endlessly about my children with friends who have kids the same age and they are usually happy to indulge me because they are experiencing many of the same issues and have the same concerns and they're thankful to share ideas and solutions.  However, when I get together with friends whose kids are much older than mine, we don't spend much time on parenting.  They have already passed through the stages I am experiencing and they are dealing with other challenges like missing a child who has gone off to university. We politely ask after each other's offspring and either reminisce about past years or look forward to future years and then move on.

I'm sure my tales of getting an eight-year-old to do his homework are boring and tedious to my friends who have chosen to remain childless and likewise, I often can't relate to their stories and how they fill their time but that doesn't mean I don't ask.  When friends connect, I think it's prudent to at least ask for an update on the people and things that are precious to them, whether that's children, pets or their latest dance club exploits before moving on to mutually interesting topics.

It's also good to remember that prattling on about kids can be difficult for friends who want to be parents but for whom it hasn't happened yet. When I was expecting my second child, a friend who had been trying to have a baby for several years told me that she found it hard to spend time with me.  I wasn't offended.  I appreciated her honesty and felt sadness that something that came so easy to me was frustrating, even heartbreaking for her.  I respected her position and while I don't assume all women who are trying to conceive feel the same way, it has made me more cognizant of how I talk to people who are going through this.

Photos are another touchy subject.  Although we've never actually set official guidelines, my close circle of parent friends don't inundate each other with photos capturing our children's every stage.  We slip them in holiday cards and very occasionally email a proud moment but we don't pull out photo albums during dinner.  We love each other and, by extension, we love each others kids but the truth is most parents are just as bored as non-parents with oversharing.

I'll close this post with a plea for non-judgement.  We live in a culture that currently celebrates babies and motherhood, where celebrities grace magazine covers just for getting pregnant and the baby products industry is worth $30 billion.  With all this, it's easy to assume that parenthood is the only route to happiness for women and that's just ridiculous.  There are countless ways to have a rich, rewarding, full life and having children is just one of them.  If you have friends who have chosen not to reproduce, respect their choices and don't presume that your life is more meaningful than theirs. Likewise, I expect my childless friends to respect my choices and to accept that, while I love catching up with them, my schedule is not as flexible and I'm more inclined to go home after dinner than to continue the night elsewhere.

Teaching your kids manners when the adults are behaving badly

As any parent can tell you, it's hard to teach manners to kids.  Getting your kids to say 'Please' and 'Thank you' and 'Nice to meet you' without constant prompting requires Herculean effort on a daily basis for years before it finally becomes second nature to them.  And it's near impossible to reinforce the need for manners when popular kids programs feature characters who talk down to the adults in their lives (if there are any around) and get lots of canned laughter for rude behaviour and impertinent remarks.

But what about when it's the adults that are behaving poorly?  How do you deal with an eight-year-old who asks, "Why do I have to take off my hat at the table when (insert loutish adult here) doesn't have to and he's an adult?"

At a recent Thanksgiving dinner with my spouse's large extended family, two of the adults brought their smartphones to the dinner table.  Both are parents.  One tapped quietly, checking emails and texts and ignoring the conversation around her.  The other played a loud video on her device and passed it around for everyone to enjoy.

The device made its way down the table, being passed from person to person along with the creamed corn and the gravy.  As it approached me, I wondered how I would deal with it.  We have a strict 'No smartphones at the dinner table' rule in my house.  My kids don't have their own phones yet so the rule is both a reminder for their father and me in the present and a preemptive strike for my kids in the future. So, face-to-face with something I had sworn to my kids was 'rude', I ran through my options:

• Take the phone, glance at the screen, smile weakly to safe face, and pass it on? (safe but wimpy)
• Get up from the table and pretend to go to the restroom just as it was about to be passed to me? (safe but cowardly)
• Go on a rant about how nothing is sacred anymore and the ancient Mayans were right when they suggested the world should end in 2012 (confronting rudeness with more rudeness)
• Get over myself, join the fun, laugh at the video and be a good sport (and lose this teaching moment?)

In the end, I mashed all the options together and said, "I'm going to pass because we don't allow phones at our dinner table and if the kids see me with this, they'll use it against me."

I got a few eye rolls from my dinner companions but that's to be expected.  They have already branded me as weird for my insistence that they don't post photos of my kids on Facebook.  But I was slightly concerned that I had hurt the feelings of the smartphone owner.  After all, while she has a different set of etiquette rules than me, she genuinely thought she was providing entertainment value with her Youtube offering.  I glanced  glance down the table to see her reaction but I need not have worried.  She was busy looking at photos on the other phone that was at the table and hadn't even noticed.  Such is the short attention span associated with anything electronic nowadays.

In case you're wondering, the video featured a dancing vegetable...

Why I'm Teaching My Kids Cursive Writing

I miss you...

We recently added a new activity to our family's weekend routine.  On Sunday afternoons, I sit my sons at the dining room table with a pencil and some sheets of lined paper. I plop a bowl of candy in front of them for "motivation" and begin our weekly lesson in cursive writing.  For 30 minutes, they loop and slant their way through the alphabet, their names and a few other words.  This is not always a joyful family experience and it is often characterized by resistance and frustration about why they're the "only kids in their class who have to learn cursive". 

I became concerned when another mom told me that the Toronto District School Board had dropped handwriting from the curriculum. While that is not actually true, whether it is actually taught is up to individual teachers (like so much else) and it's definitely not a priority.  Even if it is squeezed in here and there, it's unlikely the kids will practice it enough to become proficient. 


While I wasn't labouring under the misconception that my kids were spending hours perfecting a scripted "d" while their teacher rapped the hands of those who went outside the lines, I was shocked and saddened to hear that it wouldn't play a vital role in their education.  I understand it's a dying art and it's not like I also expect them to master the abacus or slide rule, but I just hadn't prepared my mind (and my emotions) for the reality that they might never learn how to write properly.  

According to the experts, font is the future, and I can't say I disagree. My kids will graduate into an extremely competitive global environment and need to be adequately prepared with true 21st century skills.  There's no time to focus on things they won't use and in fact, many adults who grew up learning cursive don't even use it anymore.  Thanks to chip and pin technology, we don't need to sign our name when we use our credit cards and people take notes on their tablets or smartphones. Brides send thank you notes by email (when they send them at all), long distance correspondence takes place electronically and I can't remember the last time I received a postcard from a vacationing acquaintance.

I don't think of myself as a Luddite, and yet, putting pen to paper is such a fundamental part of my life that I just wasn't prepared to let it go. To say I love cursive writing is an understatement.  At conferences, I'm often the only person at my table taking notes the "old-fashioned way".  I write elaborate to-do lists and get a thrill every time I stroke my pen through a task that's completed.  I send handwritten thank-you cards all the time and write out almost 50 Christmas cards each year.  To be fair, I am gifted with the ability to write very neatly.  It has always come easy for me and I realize that for many people, no amount of practice can improve their messy scrawl.

But, while I have a tendency towards nostalgia, my desire to teach my kids cursive is not fueled purely by emotion.  According to researchers, writing by hand is more than just a way to communicate.  Cursive calls upon many different parts of the brain while printing and typing only use the left hemisphere of the brain, the side associated with linear, logical and sequential functions.  As well, handwriting reinforces reading and spelling, develops motor memory, teaches students to focus and may help them remember what they learn.  This last part rings true for me.  Despite their claims that the medium isn't important, I find it hard to believe that people who take notes on a laptop, while simultaneously checking emails and Facebook, are taking in as much relevant information as someone who is writing what they hear.

One could also make a case for the discipline developed when kids practice anything over and over, whether it's piano scales or soccer kicks. By allowing them to go directly from printing to the keyboard, are we denying today's children the confidence that comes from mastering a skill they have struggled with? 

And, as handwriting analysts (themselves a dying breed) will attest, the unique way in which our writing flows says so much about our personality, character and intentions, in a way that Helvetica never will.  A person's handwriting is an extension of who they are and   it's recognizable.  I feel an emotional tug when I receive mail addressed with my mom's patient, consistent script.

And so I plod along with my insistence that my kids learn to write properly.  I realize that short of an apocalypse in which all the technology disappears, it's a skill they won't use but all parents seem to have a couple of things they're "irrational" about.  Some parents think I'm crazy for doing this and I think they're crazy for giving an 8-year-old a Facebook account.  As parents, we make many decisions based on pure gut instinct and hope that they will turn out to be wise. 

What are your thoughts on teaching kids cursive?  Colossal waste of time or valuable learning opportunity? 

Is it Possible to Give Without Judgement?

There was a beautiful news story recently about an anonymous donor who went to several K-Mart stores in the U.S. and quietly paid off the layaway accounts of families with young children.  For those of you too young to remember, layaway plans allow customers to choose something they want, have it put aside, and pay for it in weekly installments until it's paid in full. Although they're available year-round, they're most popular at Christmas with parents who want to ensure they can give their kids the toys they ask for, without needing to save up and shop at the last minute.  I recall my parents using layaway plans when I was a kid and I think I even used one to buy a bicycle when I was a teenager.  However, I hadn't heard the term for a while and had just assumed they no longer existed till I read this story.

I enjoyed this story for many reasons.  I loved that the donor found a simple way to have a direct, positive, impact on the lives of the families she helped.  I appreciated that she did it anonymously, without any need for public glory.  I loved the descriptions of the beneficiaries, one of whom (a man with three small children in tow) burst into tears when told his account was paid off.

The story moved me so much that I took to the comments board of The Toronto Star to share my thoughts.  While most comments were positive, I was surprised to find that some posters had reacted negatively to the story.  A few accused K-Mart of staging a "PR stunt" while others expressed sadness and even rage that families who are in financial trouble would spend money they don't have on junk they don't need.  Some felt that the dollar amount attached to the layaway accounts was much more than they would spend on their own kids.  And then there was a general railing against the hyper-consumerism of the modern Christmas season.   As someone who has spent two decades in PR, I am fairly confident that, while K-Mart may have shared the news to boost its profile, it's unlikely they fabricated the whole story out of the ether.  I can also say that in all my years working at and running PR agencies, I have never staged a "PR stunt", but that's another story.

That aside, the other negative sentiments got me wondering if it is possible to give to others without considering why they are in their current predicament and what role, if any, they played in it. I can say with all honesty that this is something I have struggled with for years.  I try to be philanthropic in whatever way I can, but, despite my best efforts to be non-judgemental, I tend to draw a line between people who are responsible for their own issues and people who had the problems thrust upon them.  This translates into heartfelt compassion for victims of a tsunami and indifference for able-bodied, able-minded people on social assistance.  I'm not particularly proud of this, I'm just being honest. Through extended family, I know someone who benefits from one of the many toy drives that take place in the city each Christmas.  Having been a recipient for many years, she now expects her annual delivery of toys for her children and therefore, makes no plans to improve her situation. Friends who have volunteered to deliver toys for needy families, have also told me that they were shocked and hurt by the lack of gratitude and the sense of entitlement they encountered at some of the homes they visited. It begs the question, when we give, is any kind of recognition  required?  A "thank you" is nice but is it mandatory?  And should we feel ripped off if we don't get it?

Getting back to the K-Mart article, I think we can all agree that children are not responsible for the financial situation of their parents, and shouldn't be punished for it.  The way I see it, more-affluent parents have the luxury of keeping Christmas presents to a minimum because it's only one of many gifts they will give their kids throughout the year.  Their children will have swimming lessons and ballet and summer camps, not to mention, parents who have the time and resources to encourage them with their homework and their goals.  Thanks to the work of donors like the woman in the story, many underprivileged kids can wake up to presents under the tree on Christmas Day, even if the rest of the year  is bleak.  So, I for one, applaud this anonymous donor and everyone like her who is able to "give without judgement".

My kids will never be that rude...or will they?

This week I had the pleasure of meeting a close friend for dinner at a fairly nice restaurant. I arrived first and was seated across from a family of four - mom, dad, son of about 16 and daughter of about 19. We were the only parties in the establishment and so I couldn't help overhearing their conversation. I surmised that they were out to celebrate something and sat squeamishly as the parents desperately and without much success, to engage the kids in conversation. The son seemed to realize that small talk was the price of entry for a nice steak but the daughter was having none of it and made sure everyone at the table (and beyond) was aware that she had better things to do. After a few minutes, her disgruntled parents, resigned to their fate, gave up and she pulled out a cell phone and from that point forward, did not lift her eyes from the screen for the duration of the dinner, even continuing to text between mouthfuls.

Of course, my brief encounter with this family lacked any context at all so I have no idea what, if anything, was behind the daughter's extremely offensive behaviour but I responded in the classic parental way, by silently declaring that "no child of mine will ever behave that way, adding in "especially when I'm buying them a nice dinner" for good measure.

The no child of mine declaration is an occupational hazard of parenting and it's not a phrase that should be tossed around lightly. After all, when dealing with another human, even one over which you exert considerable influence, it's impossible to predict their every action into the future. I have had to eat my words countless times as previous declarations were proven unattainable. For example, I proudly announced that no child of mine was ever going to eat junk food, become addicted to bad cartoons or forget to say thank you when someone gave them a gift, but they did. The sentiment comes from a good place - the desire to raise children of whom you can be proud and young adults who will go out into the world as productive, well-mannered members of society. But as any potentially perfect parent has discovered, easier said than done. While we have a great deal of influence over our children, particularly in their earlier years, our words of wisdom don't always sink in, please and thank yous are easily forgotten in public and there is an element of nature versus nurture in all of us.

So, we can't always control behaviour, especially from those sullen, withdrawn teenagers that we all were at one point. But we can set rules and expectations for behaviour both inside the house and out in public and reinforce them in a way that is appropriate for their age. And I think, when it comes to teaching your children manners, starting early, providing constant reminders and never giving up, will eventually result in polite young adults. In our house, nothing can be brought to the dinner table besides food and the tools required to enjoy it and that applies to the adults as well as the kids. It is my hope that, if I am unrelenting about these things early in life, they will become ingrained and I won't have to beg them to refrain from using their cell phones at the dinner table ten years from now.

But will I succeed? Perhaps the poor parents who were sitting next to me tried in vain to establish the same kinds of guidelines and after years of repeating the same mantra, they just gave in with a "kids today" shrug. Perhaps they shared my mortification but decided to ignore their daughter's behaviour on that evening when the only alternative was to have a public argument or risk ruining the outing for everyone, including their son, who was behaving appropriately.

With kids I've learned, never say never but do your best. I'd love to hear from parents of teens if you struggle with this, if you have an issue with it or if it doesn't bother you.

By the way, my friend and I had a lovely time together and got so engrossed in a stimulating face-to-face conversation that neither of us checked our mobile devices once.

Are Today's Kids the Rudest Ever?

On vacation last week, I read this story about how today's kids might just be the rudest ever. I'm sad to say that, since both of mine were at that point, banished to their bedroom for exessively rude behaviour, I thought it might be true. I comforted myself with the knowledge that, although my boys had behaved deplorably, the fact that they were, at this very moment, facing the consequences of their actions, meant that they would eventually learn the value of kindness right?

I tend to agree with the author that today's tykes are bolder, more brazen and quicker to offer an opinion than those of earlier generations. When I was little, kids were seen and not heard. This is not necessarily a good thing but I don't recall ever being asked for my thoughts on what we would be having for dinner never mind if a teacher should be challenged for disciplining me. If I came home and told my parents that I had been reprimanded at school, their first question was always the same: "What did you do?" followed by "I'm sure you wouldn't have gotten into trouble if you didn't deserve it". The discussion usually ended there. Today, if a child gets into trouble, many parents act as their lawyer, arranging meetings with the principal, speaking in their defense and brokering agreements.

As the article points out, the self-esteem epidemic that many Gen Xrs and late Boomers have perpetuated with their children can have unintended negative consequences. According to pediatrician Dr. Philippa Gordon, "It may well be that today's parents are so fixated on their children's emotional wellbeing that they're teaching them that the well-being of others is comparatively unimportant." A friend of mine who is a flight attendant, regularly tells stories of youngsters snapping their fingers and barking orders at her while their parents tap away on BlackBerries or read, magazines in the next seat, blissfully ignorant of their child's rudeness or worse still, aware of it and unperturbed.

Years of being told that they are wonderful for simply existing can result in a rude awakening when 20-something grads are thrust into the workforce and find out that they might just be fairly ordinary after all. Dr. Jean Twenge, a professor at San Diego State University writes about this in her book, Generation Me: Why Today's Young Americans Are More Confident, Assertive, Entitled, and More Miserable Than Ever Before. According to Twenge, we have moved from true self esteem, which is based on accomplishments to self esteem based on nothing but narcissism. Is it any wonder, when popular television shows feature young men and women crying on camera because they were eliminated from the opportunity to be the fake friend of a Hollywood socialite who has, despite overwhelming privilege, accomplished nothing with her life?

As a parent of two boys, I work really hard to teach them the importance of manners and respect for other people. But, I probably also tell them I love them every single day, which is a hallmark of my generation of parenting. I hope I'm not giving them too much self esteem. How much is too much?