Tag Archives: parenting

Teen Talk: Episode #15

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Teen

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you another episode of  Teen Talk.  I assure you, everything you are about to hear is real and unedited. Please, do not try this at home. Unless you are fond of servitude.

One day, Teen decided to establish his place in the Familial Hierarchy.

Mom:  “Teen, are you working this weekend?”

Teen: “Yes, all day Saturday. Do you know if my work clothes have gone through the laundry yet?”

Mom:  “I’m not sure, we should check when we get home tonight.”

Teen:  “Ok”

Mom:  “Send me a text message as a reminder.  Otherwise, I am afraid, by the time we get home later, we will forget to check.”

…ding…

Text from Teen:  Dear slave,

                               Make sure to wash and iron my good clothes for my upcoming business affairs.

                               Sincerely,

                               The Overlord

The End

For more views by Teen Go Here: Teen Talk

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Teen Talk: Episode #12

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Comic by K

Comic by K

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you another episode of  Teen Talk.  I assure you, everything you are about to hear is real and unedited. Please, do not try this at homeUnless you are comfortable talking to yourself.

One day Teen turned into a brick wall got an iPhone.

Mom: “Looks like it is going to be warmer today!”

Teen:

Mom: “After school tomorrow, I will pick you up and then we will run by the store. If you need anything that would be a good time to get it.”

Teen: 

Mom:  “So, this weekend you have a game on Saturday and then we can go to the movies. Let’s see the new Captain America movie!”

Teen:

Mom:  “That story you told me last night was so funny, I am still laughing about it today!”

Teen: 

Mom:  “Next week, I am going out of town for a few days, so you and your brother will be on your own with Dad. ”

Teen:

Mom: “I am really glad we had this chance to talk!”

Teen:

The End

Teen Talk: Episode #11

Teen Talk: Episode #10

Teen Talk: Episode #9

Teen Talk: Episode #8

Teen Talk: Episode #7

Teen Talk: Episode #6

Teen Talk: Episode #5

Teen Talk: Episode #4

*Teen Talk: Episode #3

Teen Talk Episode #2

Teen Talk Episode #1

 

For more views by Teen Go Here: Teen Talk

My Son, the Grave Digger

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grave digger2My kids love their electronics. For this, I am immensely grateful! Oh yeah, you heard me right.  I thank my little parental stars for the attachment my kids have to their respective devices for one reason and one reason alone – it is the best tool known to man/woman (the parenting kind, that is)when it comes to getting  kids to do parental bidding. Nothing says get your chores/homework done like the threat of losing a device – or screams curb your teenage posturing after being separated from Clash of Clans or (gasp) texting for a few days.

Little did my kids know when they succumbed to the charms of their electronics, the slippery slope of manipulation they were setting themselves up for. Their misguided devotion has most definitely been my gain!

However, maybe, a complete ban from all electronics for say something like – not doing your homework when you are told to leaving it until the last possible moment having to stay up late into the night with Mom helping you in order to just finish adequately and then being all snarky about it to boot – is sometimes a little precarious as well.

Case in point. Recently, Pre-Teen, lost his electronic privileges for an extended amount time due to…well, I think you got the general idea above. For the first few days, he walked around the house like one of those zombies looking for fresh meat (the kind that says “I’m bored” a lot). Now don’t get me wrong, Pre-Teen loves the outdoors, when the weather is nice (which it’s not) and reasonably warm (which it hasn’t been for what feels like an eternity). However, finally out of sheer desperation – i.e. looking for something to do that did not involve my offer of household chores – outside he went. I have to say, I did not pay much attention. I suspected the basketball hoop was getting some long denied attention and there was likely some random rock throwing going on, but other than that, I did not have much concern…until Pre-Teen came blustering inside one afternoon.

Pre-Teen: “Hey Mom, do you think Dad will care if I dig a hole in the field?”

Mom: (picturing something the size of your average garden hole) “No, I don’t think so.”

And back out he went.

When it started to get dark and still he had not come back in the house, my parenty senses (you know, the Mom version of spidey senses) began to tingle and I felt compelled to go and investigate. This is what I saw:

Don't bother me, I am busy exploring a new career path.

Don’t bother me, I am busy exploring a new career path!

And as the days ensued, he began to gain eager followers, or rather, enthusiastic diggers.

His brother, Teen, got in on the action:

Finally, something they can do together without fighting!

Finally, something they can do together that does not end in somebody bleeding!

Soon, friends began to show up…fully equipped with shovels and picks for the task at hand.

Where was this gang when I needed sticks picked up?

This gang could come in handy come yard clean up time…

And every day, there seemed to be more work than one guy could handle.

Where will this madness end?

Where will the madness end?

Pre-Teen has long since earned electronic privileges back, and still the digging continues on a daily basis, rain or shine, no matter the temperature – except now, he has a pad to play music on while he works and a phone to text friends to come over during his hours of operation.

Where it will all end, I have no idea.

But, I do know these three things…

1.  The hole keeps getting bigger,

2.  I have been parenting long enough to know, sometimes it is best not to ask too many detailed questions, and…

3.  If you have something dead you need buried…I know just the guy for the job.

(But, he probably won’t come cheap)

Other adventures with Pre-Teen

A Decade of Wisdom

Never Sit On a Couch at a Nudist Colony

Puerto Rico Island Travels Part 2: The Clothing Optional Tour

The Day I Killed the Vacuum

 

The Day I Killed the Vacuum

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If my vacuum had looked like this, we could have been friends.

If my vacuum had looked like this, we could have been friends.

This month  on MAMALODE, the theme for the month of March is Break.  They thought my story The Day I Killed the Vacuum  was (sadly for me…and my vacuum) perfect for inclusion.  So, if you have a little break (ha, get it?) in your day, head on over to MAMALODE and have a laugh (or cry) about The Day I Killed the Vacuum.

The Rebellion Rages On

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In response to my article earlier this week, Every Good Rebellion Deserves Documentation, I came home yesterday to an empty house and this:

spaghettiosHow the Spaghetti O’s even made it into my pantry in the first place is a subversive, rebellious act which will have to be routed out.  Until then, at least these mutineers can still make the dictator laugh.

Happy Friday

Every Good Rebellion Deserves Documentation

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soda ban

Before I had kids, I tried to imagine the type of parent I would be.  In all scenarios, I feel pretty confident I was the coolest, most inspired and creative mom ever!  I also feel fairly confident in none of my Norman Rockwell-esq Mom visions was I referred to as the “food dictator” or “nutrition tyrant”.  But, sadly, these terms have both been used to describe aspects of my parenting.   I all at once resent and resemble these remarks.  It is true, trying to make sure my family is eating healthy and not ingesting poison hidden in food has been a primary goal in my parenting strategy.  My kids would say the goal consisted more of terrorizing them with whole grain bread and massive amounts of broccoli.  But the truth is, I just want them to be healthy, strong and not have strange tumors growing out their ears by the age of 20.

Like any good dictator worth his/her salt, I have had to work very hard to protect my subjects from themselves.  Along the way, this has meant not only supplying them with healthy foods, refusing to purchase foods deemed unworthy and limiting questionable foods, it has also required declaring the occasional all out Ban on the most harmful and unacceptable food creations.

For instance, there was the “Sugar Ban” for my first born when he was 0-2 (he maintains the applesauce sweetened cake I made him for his first birthday  party is a clear cut case of child abuse) and “Sugar-Ban #2” for my second born when he was in preschool (he says he will work it out in therapy later).  Then came the “Soda Ban” , the “Artificial Sweetener Ban” (seriously, ants won’t even eat it),  the “Hydrogenated Oil Ban”(it does such great things for the butt), the “Nitrates Ban” (who cares if your lunch meat is gray?), the “All Plastics and Canned Goods with BPA Ban”, the “Microwave Popcorn Ban” (that one really hurt), the “Doritos Ban” (I believe this was when the term “Nutrition Tyrant” emerged),  and the “Gatorade Ban” (because what better way to reward an athletic body than by dumping flame retardant into it?), to name just a few.

However, the most recent ban left all my subjects shaken and cowering in fear on the kitchen floor…”The Microwave Ban.” You see, a few months back, I decided we had dumped enough microwaves into our bodies for a lifetime and pulled the plug on the microwave – literally.  Playing right into my hands was the fact that the monster had taken to running with the door fully open and at times, refused to shut off.

As if we had never warmed food in the dark ages before microwaves, I began to come upon bizarre and disturbing scenes in the kitchen – soup being heated up in the oven, beans being burned in a frying pan on the stove, blank stares at mugs of water needing to be heated, whole dinners in the oven on the actual dinner plate – or even worse, person trying to eat off the scorching hot dinner plate after coming out of the oven.  But despite begging and pleading on the part of my minions, I unrelentingly held my ground on  “The Microwave Ban”.

History will tell you, every dictator must endure his/her share of rebellion and subversive decent.  I don’t fool myself that there haven’t  been plenty of insubordinate acts occurring behind my back.  Lucky for my kids, they have always found a willing co-conspirator in their Dad. However, with help from sometimes eager informer (Pre-Teen) and my  keen sense of observation (empty Doritos bag in the trash) many of these mutinies did not go undiscovered.

But, with age and oppression comes ingenuity.  One morning, several months into “The Microwave Ban”, I walked into the kitchen to find the microwave missing from its place on top of the refrigerator.  You see, even though I had relieved the microwave of its duties, even my tyrannical heart had not been able to evict it altogether.

Me:  “Where’s the microwave?”

Teen: “Outside.”

Me:  “Ok….why?”

Teen: “We were doing something with it.”

Apparently in the night, Teen had found a willing rebellious accomplice in a friend staying for the night.  They had decided, somewhere after the midnight hour when the dictator was fast asleep, to haul the microwave outside onto the back porch a do what they had always wanted to do…zap stuff you are not supposed to zap in a microwave…ever!

Later the next day, these videos appeared on Facebook:

and the crowning glory – two rebellious acts all at once (I am sure there were some empty soda cans nearby as well)

Because, every good rebellion deserves to be documented.

More tyranny on Sweet Spot:  Down With Fish Tyranny

Payback to the Food Dictator:  The Rebellion Rages On

Word-Up: Show Me Your Weenus

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My summer has been as crazier than a redneck at an opera (my husband should know).   And while I continue to chuck back lemons at life , the little suckers appear to be getting smaller and easier to manage.  Anyway, all that means is that I have had less time to hang here on Sweet Spot.  So, I thought I would share one of my favorite moments from last spring.  Some things just never get old…especially boy humor, at least in my world.

I knew it!  I feared the day would come – the moment when I would finally be presented with undeniable proof I was failing as a parent.  I wanted to deny it, but the evidence was right there staring me in the face.  Clearly, I was raising a depraved sociopath.

You know the age old story, in the aftermath of a sociopath’s identification, when the neighbors wax poetic for the press?  Statements of disbelief such as:  “But, they were such a nice family”…  “Never heard a peep out of them”…”mostly kept to themselves”…”They had a lot of garden gnomes.”

Right, well, I could just see the entire future unfolding. How had it come to this?

You see, last weekend as we drove endlessly in the car from one activity to another, the irrefutable proof of my impending catastrophe occurred. I don’t know, maybe my kids were bored.  And what is it ‘they’ say?  Boredom is the devil’s playground?  Boredom is the Mother of Invention?  Either way, from the depths of the backseat, my son called out,

“Mom, I scraped my weenus, could you put a band aide on it?”

What?!

Before I could even process his statement, the situation deteriorated further. Apparently, my parental fiasco was farther reaching than just one dissolute sociopath as both boys continued in a flourish of depravity.

“Mom, my weenus is exposed”.

“I need some sunscreen for my weenus”.

“Hey, get your weenus out of my face”.

“Look, my weenus is all wrinkled”.

“I am going to touch you with my weenus”.

“I have the weirdest weenus, want to see?”.

The situation seemed dire at best.

But then, just as I was getting ready to take preventative action (you can google for a psychotherapist, right?), I was saved.  In the nick of time, I was informed by my little backseat degenerates their particular word “weenus” came with its own specific definition. However, just to be sure (and to have proof for possible future penal encounters – ha, get it?), I googled it myself- lo and behold:

According to Urban Dictionary:Weenus is the flap of skin on your elbow”.

Sigh of relief.  Apparently I am not raising a couple of depraved sociopaths, just a couple of depraved smart alecks.

But that I can live with, proudly.

For more word abuse, check out these earlier posts!

Word-Up:  Poop

Word-Up: We’ve Got Big Balls

Word-Up: Opus Anyone?

Word-Up: Get a Yob!

Teen Talk: Episode #8

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teentalk7

Comic by K

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you another episode of  Teen Talk.  I assure you, everything you are about to hear is real and unedited. Please, do not try this at home. And keep your daughters far, far away.

One day, Teen contemplated dating etiquette.

Teen:  “Mom, do you think my girlfriend would break up with me if I said to her, Kiss my extra large buttocks?”

Mom:  “I would certainly hope so!”

Teen:  “Right.  If she wouldn’t, then I think I should probably break up with her.”

Mom:  “Good plan.”

The End

Teen Talk: Episode #7

Teen Talk: Episode #6

Teen Talk: Episode #5

Teen Talk: Episode #4

*Teen Talk: Episode #3

Teen Talk Episode #2

Teen Talk Episode #1

For more views by Teen Go Here: Teen Talk

Are You a Parent Fighting the War on Electronics?

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funny-cartoons-electronicsElectronics, machines in general, and I do not always see eye to eye.  This was never more apparent than in my article about the onset of my war on electronics in the fight for control over my kids – I Am Woman (Ode to Chris the Caveman).

However, there was also the showdown with the nasty smoke alarm in Woman vs. Machine.  And don’t even get me started on my nemesis – the vacuum – as portrayed in The Day I Killed the Vaccum.

The thing is, I was recently lulled into a false sense of security when I found a way to make my big time enemy – electronics – into my unwitting ally.  Or at least, I thought I had found a way.  Today, on ParentSociety.com, I share my story of underestimation and slippery deception.

Are You a Parent Fighting the War on Electronics?

Here is something you need to know about the enemy!

Go Here! Quick!!

Making Choices: Outlook Not So Good

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8ballTo Shave or Not to Shave?  This is a question, or rather choice of great import I recently faced – which started me thinking about the parenting nightmare it can be teaching our kids how to not only make choices but also, (dare to dream) make good choices.

Today, over at ParentSociety.com, I share three phases we (husband and I) have experienced in the quest to teach our kids how to make choices, which phase I am not sure I will live through, and the ultimate outcome of my own big decision!

Go here!

The 3 Phases to Teaching Your Kids to Make Choices

And if the proposed strategies all fail, no worries, there is always the 8 ball!

Pay Attention in School, You May Win the Lottery Someday

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winning the lottery

Powerball-mania!!  Do you or your kids have it?  Well then, I suggest you share with your kids a cautionary tale I wrote about on ParentSociety!

Do your kids complain about school? At times, do they just not want to go, do the work, be bothered with it, get out of bed in the morning, pay attention, apply, learn, concentrate, etc.? I mean, what kid doesn’t have those days (or weeks, months, or even years)?

But, every once in a while, a real life story comes along that plays right into the little parental hands. I love these moments. And even though my kids probably secretly hate them, this particular cautionary tale about why they should always pay attention and stay in school was pretty hard to deny!

OK, so here is the  story…

What?  You didn’t think I would put it here.  No, you will have to go to ParentSociety.com to get the whole story.  It is a good one, I promise!

Go here

A Tricky Way to Get Your Kids to Pay Attention in School.

Saying No Sucks!

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We all know there are aspects of parenting that really stink, don’t even try to deny it!  Today, on ParentSociety.com I reflect on  complain about one of my least favorite responsibilities of parenting.

Go here to find out what I am whining about!

Saying No Sucks!

A Life Lesson, The Easy Way

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tom sawyer

We have a huge pecan tree in our yard.  And when I say huge, I really mean it — as in if it fell, our house would be reduced to rubble.  Every 2 to 3 years, the pecan tree decides to drop thousands of pecans all over the yard.  The squirrels, in these years, do a little happy dance knowing their future is secure.  But for me, I feel compelled to do something about some of those nuts littering my yard.

All I wanted was the pecans in my yard picked up – or rather, to find a way to get my kids to pick up the pecans in my yard.  I didn’t expect to get a life lesson out of it, too!

Check out my latest article on ParentSociety.com

Teaching Kids About Money:  A Life Lesson, The Easy Way.

Word-Up: We’ve Got Big Balls

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As a Mom I am ready to embrace the teen years, more to the point, the boy-teen years.  Heck, I was born ready.  Well, not really.  Actually I was born pink & squishy…and bald.  Be that as it may,  growing up with three teenage brothers must have had some lasting effect – or damage.

So, here is what I have discovered recently.  Apparently, part of being baptized into male teen-dom involves the embracing and appreciation for all humor involving anatomical innuendo (honestly, for me this is not such a hardship).  At the current stage of development, we are heavily into Balls – sport balls, that is, and all implied.  Recently, I was schooled in the infinite innuendo possibilities for the word Balls.

I believe the introductory lesson went something like this:

Mom, you know, the word ball can be pretty funny.

Oh, really, how so?

Well, at baseball practice, say we are going out to warm up and one of the guys asks me “Do you have a ball?” and I will answer, “Yeah, I have two.”

And because the mind is a terrible thing to waste – well that and never being one to leave a good innuendo well enough alone -we brainstormed some more.

Try these on for size, no pun intended (ah, what the heck),  pun intended!.

Does anyone have a ballYeah, big ones

Does anyone have a ballWhat? You don’t?

Hey, grab a ball while you are over there. You’re sick!

Always keep your eye on the ball. aaawkwaaaabrd

Basketball players have big, orange balls.

Soccer players like to kick balls.

Football players have oddly shaped balls.

Baseball players have a lot of balls.

Golfers have little tiny balls.  (sorry golfers,  just  could not resist that one).

It is not a sport without any balls.

Can someone get me some balls, I don’t have any.

And lastly,

In sports, you have to get the balls a little sweaty.

Here I thought Poop would always be the funniest word in the English Language.  I guess I should have known the shift was coming, what with the whole Weenus debacle and all.

And, don’t even get us started on the word,  Nuts.

For more word abuse, check out these earlier posts!

Word-Up: Show Me Your Weenus

Word-Up:  Poop

Word-Up: Opus Anyone?

Word-Up: Get a Yob!

10 Awesome Parenting Tips You’ll Actually Use

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So let’s just say you did something completely crazy like, oh I don’t know,  answer the wanted ad for parenting?  Wanted: A Parent. Faint Hearted Need Not Apply.  Hey, it’s ok, we all do it because there is no accounting for crazy.

But now, you may really need to check out my post on ParentSociety.com10 Awesome Parenting Tips You’ll Actually Use.

It is the logical progression.

1.  Do something crazy like become a parent

2.  Ask for help from those who have run the gauntlet.

3.  Apply advice liberally in a trial and error fashion.

4.  Hope, plead, pray, cross fingers for the best.

Thank you to all the contributors who helped me put together the awesome list! Apparently, I not only need help with parenting, I need help compiling a list of tips to help with parenting. It is a good thing I have such wonderful (and vastly smart) friends and family!

10 Awesome Parenting Tips You’ll Actually Use

Wanted: A Parent. The Faint-Hearted Need Not Apply

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Ever wonder how a Want Ad for the job of “Parent” would read?

Well, wonder no more, just head on over to ParentSociety.com where my latest article or rather ‘want-ad’ is running today. It might be good for a laugh (or cry).

Wanted: A Parent. The Faint-Hearted Need Not Apply

The Day I Killed the Vacuum

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I hate vacuums.  I can’t even express how much I dislike all vacuums. Vacuums have been a plague on my life (no drama at my house).    No matter how many vacuums I purchase, or how much money I pay for them, it is always the same story.  They don’t pick up what they should, like dirt and animal hair. But oh yes, they love to pick up what they shouldn’t, like the carpet corners and their own chords.   And speaking of the chord, is it my fault that my vacuum chord always ends up a mass of black electrical tape to fix the places where the vacuum has continually sucked up its own appendage and stripped it clean?  Shouldn’t a self-respecting vacuum be more discerning?  Eventually, my vacuums always end up spitting more dust than they pick up. And don’t even get me started on the new and improved “bagless” vacuum. Because changing a bag every once in a while was so much more inconvenient than having to manually dump the disgusting contents from the canister into the trash (as dust flies everywhere) on a regular basis!

Anyway, on the day in question, my current vacuum/bane-of-my-existence clearly crossed the line.  Now, it is only fair to point out this was not my first indiscretion where machines are concerned.  There was the time with the smoke alarm (Woman vs. Machine).  However, trust me, this time the machine really had it coming.

Last week, I was up to my neck in a heinous vacuum job involving the eradication of a summer’s worth of dead and live, scurrying spiders. It was near the end of the job when the vacuum chose to jump (ok, it might have fallen) off the step it was perched on, thus dislodging the nearly full “bagless vacuum” canister and spilling contents all over the floor.  In that instant, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the vacuum’s time had come.  And, ok, I will admit it…I was a tad peeved, and maybe a little pms, and possibly temporarily off my rocker.

Whatever the case,  the annihilation began as I kicked the offending machine…several times.  Lacking the desired results, I then proceeded to take the vacuum apart piece by piece and throw each piece violently out the back door onto the concrete driveway.  I swear I heard the sweet sound of cracking plastic and dislodging mechanisms.  The attack was only complete when the main vacuum unit was sent skittering across the driveway to its final resting place, lodged partially under a parked car.

Around this time, my sons, hearing the ensuing brawl, came to investigate.

Teen: “Uh, Mom, what are you doing?”

Me:  “Killing the vacuum.”

Preteen:  “Need any help with that?”

Me: “No thanks, I think I’ve got it covered.”

Then, I shed tears – not for the vacuum now lying scattered all over the driveway like the Scarecrow after the Flying Monkeys had their fun – but for the dusty, bug infested mess left in its wake that had to now be manually cleaned up and just out of good old frustration.  And that my friends, was the end of the vacuum, or so I thought.

For you see, sometime later that day, I looked outside to see Preteen collecting up all the scattered vacuum parts. And when next I looked out the window, there sat my vacuum on the back porch fully reassembled (and I am completely sure it was snickering at me).

I left it sitting on the back porch hoping it was reflecting on its bad behavior and fairly certain of its demise as a result of the onslaught.  However, the time came when pet hair in the house began to clump and blow in front of me like tumbleweeds in the Nevada desert.  Dreading the thought of facing yet another new vacuum purchase, to the porch I went to drag the vacuum back in the house, hoping it could, albeit inadequately, still to do its job.

That afternoon, when Preteen came home from school…

Me:  “By the way, I tried using the vacuum today and, guess what? It worked!”

Preteen:  “Really?  That is amazing!”

Me: “No Preteen, actually, you are amazing.”

Preteen smiled and then we both laughed.

As parents, it is our job to pick up our kids when they are down and put things back together for them.

But sometimes, it works the other way, too.

It’s All Spicoli’s Fault

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Did you know Spicoli from the movie Fast Times At Ridgemont High is responsible for increased Marijuana use in teens today?  Ok well, not exactly but it is amazing what one can accomplish with a little circular logic! Hey, it is the internet, I can make up anything I want, right?

Alright, alright, there might be a little scientific information thrown into my recent article just for good measure!

My most recent article on Parentsociety.com “Are You Ambivalent About Marijuana Use?” explores the possibility that, as parents of a certain age, our perception of the big M is contributing to the increased use by our teens.

Marijuana, or as my son likes to call it, “mar-i-ji-hwana,” is a drug parents of a certain age are well familiar with. We all had friends who smoked it, we laughed about “stoners,”and maybe we even partook of it ourselves a time or two …  I recently realized I tend to look on the little dried plant as a chihuahua among a brood of bulldogs where drugs are concerned.

Oh, and don’t miss the 8 little tips at the end.  They are gems, I tell you, gems!

Go Here!

“Are You Ambivalent About Marijuana Use?”

4 Things to Know About Raising Country Kids

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Yes, I seem to be running a theme of Country Living lately (Top 10 Clues You Are Not Cut Out For Country Life).  No rhyme or reason, just where my brain is roaming around on these hot summer days leading up to Fourth of July!

Today, my most recent article about raising country kids is running over at ParentSociety.com.

I grew up in the suburbs, lived in the city, and then moved to the country when my kids came along. I did not expect there to be any difference when it came to raising my kids in the country as opposed to the city/suburbs. Kids are kids, how different could it be? But I am here to tell you I was naive as a turkey on Thanksgiving…

Yes, I was naive – but my kids have educated me well.  I mean really, who needs shoes or a license to drive anyway?  Have I said to much?  Alright, already, just go read this quick little piece and find out the rest!  Whether you are planning on ever being a Country Parent or not, you just might be glad you did! Go Here!

4 Things to Know About Raising Country Kids

4 Reasons Parents Should Get A Life

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Yes, folks, it is that time again!  The time of the week when I drop a few words over at my home away from home – aka: ParentSociety.com.  Today I am talking about why all parents – yes, myself included – should Get a Life!

It starts out something like this:

Becoming a first-time mom late in life means two things:  First, my grandkids will have a super cool walker to climb on and second, I had an activity-filled life before my kids ever came along. For me, this included many aspects of theater and performing. However, I always knew when I became parent, I wanted to give my kids full and undivided attention. So when the kiddos came along, I put those extracurricular activities on hold.

But, then things changed and no, I did not “run off to join a geriatric production of “CATS”…or worse.  As usual, you will just have to go HERE to get the rest of the story and of course the 4 “pearls of wisdom” as to why as parents, we should all Get a Life!

4 Reasons All Parents Should Get a Life!