Cheryl's Blog

The dad sat in my office, fidgeting with his hands and looking uncomfortable. He told me a story about his daughter, 15 years old, who had decided she wanted a new smart phone like the ones her friends had, the kind that can surf the Internet, play music and videos, and make texting easy.

"I told her I wouldn't buy her a new phone because she already had one and it worked just fine," Dad told me. "Then she took the phone out of her purse, dropped it on the ground, and stomped on it with the heel of her boot. 'Now it's broken,' she said, 'and I need a new one.'" Looking faintly ashamed, the father looked up at me. "I guess what I need to know is whether I should buy her a new phone. I want her to have good self-esteem and to be happy...."

You're probably sitting at your computer thinking, "What a fool. I wouldn't buy that spoiled brat a single thing!" But I can guarantee you it's not that easy when the 15-year-old in question belongs to you.

Every generation of adults has had some version of the old saying, "These kids today!" Parents have always worried about the latest generational challenge, from hippies and drugs to the pernicious influence of the Viennese waltz. (I'm not kidding--it was a scandal in old Vienna.) But today's children and young adults seem to feel a sense of entitlement that is sobering in its depth. Parents tell me constantly that their children straight-up refuse to do homeowrk or chores, go to school or church, or cooperate unless they feel like it--and apparently, they don't often feel like it.

These entitled kids also seem to associate happiness with having stuff, and they believe that their parents are obligated to provide that stuff with no effort on their part. And parents, many of whom are self-assured, educated and successful people outside the home, turn into puddles of misery when confronted with a demanding, angry child. What on earth has happened?

I believe that kids these days do in fact have a deeper sense of privilege and entitlement than in generations past. There are many compassionate, hard-working, generous young people--but there are also many who are self-absorbed, unempathetic, and staggeringly selfish, who do not recognize the property rights or feelings of those around them. And I must gently suggest that responsibility for this situation rests solidly on the shoulders of their too-kind, not-firm-enough parents.

So here are a couple of things to consider as you navigate the treacherous waters of parental responsbility. First, value character over momentary happiness. Think about the sort of adult you want your child to become, the skills and character qualities you want that adult to have. Then consider whether your current approach to parenting is producing those qualities. Giving children everything they want, smoothing their path through life, and doing your best to ensure they never have to struggle or feel a moment's frustration may make them momentarily happy, but it strips them of the chance to learn patience, empathy, hard work, and gratitude.

Second, be willing to make the hard choices as a parent. Doing the right thing doesn't always feel good. Sometimes, when your child wants something--or expects to be rescued from life's responsibilities or the consequences of her own behavior--it is difficult to stand firm and follow through. Your child will be hurt, disappointed, or angry, and it is likely to become noisy and unpleasant in your living room. But these storms pass, and your child will have the opportunity to learn important life lessons--and perhaps, to learn to respect you.

Last but not least, practice being firm and kind. Firmness without kindness is harsh and is an invitation to power struggles. But kindness without firmness invites pampering and permissiveness--and a lifelong sense of entitlement that will not make your child a happy, productive adult. If you can say, with respect and dignity, "I love you and the answer is no," you're on the right path.

Parenting isn't easy and no one will do it perfectly. But it is essential to think about what your child will learn and decide from your choices, about herself and about the world around her.

It's been impossible this past week to escape the media furor about motherhood. It's nothing new, of course: every few weeks or months, a new controversy crops up about being a mom, from the "Tiger Mom" issue to the latest catty exchanges between Ann Romney, wife of presidential candidate Mitt Romney, and Hilary Rosen, a Democratic consultant. The issue? Once again, we are immersed in finger-pointing, criticism, and judgment about whether raising children qualifies as "work"--or at least, whether it's enough work to merit respect.

Really? I thought we were past this particular conversation, but apparently I was wrong. Oh, all the right words have been mouthed: yes, motherhood is hard work. Yes, each woman's choices should be respected. Yes, it's possible to balance parenthood with a career outside the home. But the simple fact that we're still having this conversation at all tells us that we're still conflicted as a nation about the role and value of women, and that women still are judged in ways that men simply are not. 

For the record, I believe that raising children competently is a tough job, one that far too many parents don't take seriously enough. The research on early childhood development is clear: children need a secure attachment with parents to become healthy human beings. Building that attachment takes focused time, patience, and commitment. Having a solid, loving relationship with your children while providing effective discipline requires parenting skills, which is why people like me wander around offering parent education and coaching. And yes, you can work outside the home and be a good parent--but it certainly isn't easy.

There has been a great deal of research done on what is sometimes called "work/family balance" and its impact on children. You may remember reading about the so-called "second shift", the research that showed that even women who had demanding jobs outside the home found themselves responsible for approximately 13 hours of additional domestic duties each week--parenting, laundry, meal planning, house cleaning, and so on. Those cultural expectations are hard to change. More than once, a man sitting in my office has told me that he has to "babysit" over the weekend. "Oh," I ask him, "are you watching your neighbor's kids?" "No," he says, puzzled, "I'm staying home with my own kids." "In that case," I tell him, "it's not babysitting. It's called parenting." 

Some mothers don't have a choice about whether or not to go out and get a job. I was a single mother for almost nine years, so for me, the choice was pretty clear: if we wanted to eat and have a place to live, I had to work. And it certainly created challenges in using my time wisely. I learned pretty quickly that when my son's behavior deteriorated, the first thing to do was to check my calendar--and almost always, I'd been too busy to spend time just being with him.

I think what perturbs me about this issue is the easy judgment and criticism that seeps into everyone's comments. Deciding whether to stay home with a child or to work elsewhere is tough: there are many factors to balance. If you're going to have children, you owe them time and energy. Period. But there is no question that money helps, too. The best suggestion i can make is that before you point the finger at someone else's choices, you take a close look at your own. 

Being a mom is tough. Mothers have been blamed for all sorts of things throughout history, from homosexuality to autism to schizophrenia. Moms feel guilty for working and having their children in child care, and guilty for not working and not helping to support the family. So what do children need? Children simply need a "good enough" mother, one who is loving, kind and firm, and present, who can build a relationship of connection and respect with her child. Children need safety and shelter, but they do not need iPhones, iPads, or satellite television.

Perhaps this ongoing debate is an invitation to sit down and think carefully about your own priorities, about what you need to be healthy--and about what your children really need. Then make the best decision you can. And if possible, have some faith that the other mothers out there have done the same. 

I first saw the pyramid from the back seat of a car, whizzing its way through the now-familiar Cairo traffic. That iconic shape seemed to hover in the hazy sky over the crowded skyline, appearing like a mirage in the midst of apartment blocks and new construction. The three pyramids and their companion, the sphinx, were once far out in the desert, but the city has reached out to meet them, and the bustle of urban Egypt lies now almost at their bases.

The pyramids are impossibly old--thousands of years, in fact--and despite the hubbub of energetic entrepreneurs selling camel rides, belly-dancer costumes, and plastic pyramids and the press of tourists from around the world, there is a sense of stillness about them. I climbed up to the base of the Great Pyramid and placed my hand on the chiseled surface of the stone, cool to my touch despite the warm sun, and felt a sense of connection to time beyond my understanding.

My time in Egypt has ended and I am on my way home. I have had a last meal with my dear friends, sitting outdoors in the cool Cairo evening, eating and laughing together and smelling the fragrance of shisha smoke. I have said good-bye to my wonderful hosts, unable to thank them enough for their warmth and generosity to me. And this morning, my 747 lifted off through the early-morning fog, slipping over the green fields and mud-colored towns of the Nile delta before heading out over the Mediterranean towards Greece and on to London.

I have had a life-changing experience, learning far more than I could possibly have taught. I have been welcomed into a culture very different from my own, yet warm and engaging. I have had the fun of speaking to large audiences, meeting privately with parents who wanted my help in learning new parenting skills, and training teachers and those who will continue the work of Positive Discipline in Egypt. And now I leave my new friends to the really hard work: the work of creating change that lasts.

I thought about this as I stood with my hand on the pyramid. The Egyptians are skilled builders; their history is filled with creativity and perseverance. And they will need all that skill and determination as they build a new government, and as my friends work to create peace and connection in families and schools. Real change--the kind that endures--isn't built in a week or a year. It is built as the pyramids were built, one stone at a time. The ancient Egyptians didn't have cranes and power tools; they didn't have horses. What they had was many hands to do the work, determination, and great patience. 

Now, sitting in Heathrow with a massive case of culture shock (I said thank-you to the security agent in Arabic when I landed, much to his consternation), I know I am returning to my familiar life, my wonderful family, and my old friends. But I leave a part of myself in Cairo with people whose hope and commitment I share. Stone by stone, family by family, I believe they will create change that lasts. And if we all can do the same, perhaps we can create a more peaceful, hopeful world. Salam alikum, Egypt.

I am sitting in my room, enjoying the sunlight that falls through the iron filigree window lattice in patterns on the stone floor, thinking of my friends and family at home who are sound asleep as I begin my day in Egypt. My teaching work here is finished; I have time to rest, to read, and for the first time, to really look around me and explore the city. Outside, the call to Friday services is being broadcast. In the Muslim world, Friday is Sunday: a day for gathering, prayer, and time with family.

Here in Cairo, each mosque broadcasts Quran verses and the five daily calls to prayer from speakers high atop the minarets. Devout Muslims stop, face the holy city of Mecca, and kneel to pray; if they are out in public, they find one of the many public prayer rooms in malls and public spaces and pray there. It is important, especially in the conservative community, to honor each of these calls to devotion and connection to God. 

Mosques are everywhere in Cairo, woven tightly into the fabric of everyday life. There are large and small mosques, simple and ornate ones, each one topped by a graceful spire; they are in every neighborhood and sometimes, it seems, on every corner. I asked my host over dinner one evening how many mosques there are in Cairo. He paused to think: in old Cairo, he said, more than a thousand. In the sprawling suburbs north of the city, where we are, no one knows--but there are many.

When I first arrived here, the morning call to prayer (which happens around 4:30 a.m.) woke me up. I wasn't sleeping well, so I learned to relax and practice mindfulness, or say a prayer myself. Later, when I grew so tired that I overcame jet lag and different schedules, I slept through the call--and felt oddly guilty. I've discovered that I like these elegant, poetic reminders about connection: while I have been teaching about our need for connection to children and partners, it is good for each of us to remember to practice self-awareness, and to connect to something larger and greater than each individual. Now, when these lyrical Arabic lines of invitation float through the air, I pause to breathe, to practice gratitude, and to hold compassion for others.

My friend Sherine tells me that in this 21st-century world, there are mobile phone apps you can get that will play the calls to prayer. I like the idea: in my busy life I often forget to carve out time to be mindful, to connect to what matters. Daily life in Egypt has been a graceful reminder of what I know but often forget: life is richer and simpler when we take time for the things that truly matter. I intend to remember--and practice--when I return home. 

It is Mother's Day in Egypt. Unlike the United States, where Mother's Day is always a Sunday in May, Mother's Day in Egypt is always March 21st; today, that is a Wednesday, so the mothers in my group of Positive Discipline trainers have gone off to spend lunch with their children at school, celebrating their connection and love for each other. I have been sitting in the sun on a second-story balcony, watching life in the street below me and marveling yet again at where I am. There are men sitting below me with their sandals off, talking and laughing together. Another man trudges patiently from a pile of sand in the street to an upstairs apartment in this building, carrying by hand all the materials needed for construction. Parents walk with children and women hang laundry to dry on balcony clotheslines; it is peaceful and warm, just another day in Cairo.

Today, as in every Positive Discipline training, we talked about mistakes and how, if we handle them correctly, they become marvelous opportunities to learn and grow. I've noticed that people in Egypt often have a noticeable response to this statement--doubt, surprise, disbelief, hope--and today I learned why. In Egypt, one of my group explained to me, it is said that "What is broken cannot be repaired." Mistakes are forever, discouraging failures to be hidden or punished, forgotten as quickly as possible. The idea that a mistake might make things better in the long run is strange--and unbelievably encouraging.

Neuroscientists these days talk about the idea of "rupture and repair." Rupture--a break in a relationship caused by anger or disagreement--is inevitable. What matters is how well we do our repair work: like the man in the street below me, carefully and patiently working to heal the breach and build again so that the rupture is no more. If we do this work well, the researchers tell us, a relationship can actually become stronger than it was before the damage occurred. In other words, if you make a mistake, clean up the mess and then go one step further: learn what needs learning so that you don't repeat the mistake. As a colleague of mine is fond of saying, "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we learned to say to our children 'Oh, good! You made a mistake!' I wonder what we'll get to learn today?"

Sharing these ideas with my new friends is adding depth to my own understanding, as I watch them make Positive Discipline their own. A friend asked me the other night if I was lonely, doing all this teaching by myself. I certainly miss my colleagues and would love to share this experience with them, but no, I am not lonely. I am surrounded by love and respect, and by people who share my heart if not my language. What more could I ask? Happy Mother's Day, mothers of Egypt!

I went to breakfast this morning at an elegant French bakery called Paul, which is nearby the home where I am staying. "Nearby", by the way, means a half-hour adventure over Cairo's roads and highways, past miles of sand that would look undisturbed for centuries if it weren't for the endless power lines and cell phone towers, most of which are semi-disguised as gigantic palm trees. Gaily painted buses and trucks share the road with creaking jalopies and elegant foreign cars--and the occasional motor scooter or donkey. There are speed limit and no-cell-phone signs posted, but everyone ignores them. In fact, Egyptians may be more attached to their mobile phones than Americans! Impressive villas stand next to unfinished concrete-and-brick skeletons, and boys stand in the sun watering newly-planted trees. This new Cairo is not a pretty city, but it is compelling, fascinating, and buzzing with energy. Things are happening here; you can sense it.

I have now completed a three-day Positive Discipline in the Classroom training and a full-day event for parents. Both were wonderful experiences for me: the parents and teachers I speak with are so open to new ideas, so hopeful for their families and schools. Change is in the air in Egypt. I spent all day on Saturday in a beautiful hotel in Heliopolis, a suburb just north of downtown Cairo. There were professionlly-produced banners and backdrops, a film crew to record the lectures, and a shopping bazaar for Mother's Day, which is in March here in Egypt. There was a family photo booth and a children's activity center. And each participant received a packet full of information and a delightful sit-down lunch in the hotel's formal banquet room. 

And then there was me. I spoke for four hours and yes, I was nervous. I've done this many times before, but never at such an impressive event and never where the majority of my listeners speak Arabic. (There were real-time translation headsets available for everyone--and I am thoroughly impressed by the fluent English so many Egyptians speak.) Most of the women wore lovely hijabs--head scarves to cover their hair--and occasionally, the niqab, which covers everything but the eyes. But beneath their coverings, these women are formidable, courageous, and hopeful. It may be mostly men who are creating the revolution in Tahrir Square, but I believe it will be the women who change Egypt, gently but irresistably.

Above everything else, I have learned--again--that people are far more alike than different, no matter where you travel. These people nodded when I talked about connection, misbehavior, and family life. They laughed at stories of my own mistakes as a mom. And they came up and asked questions--so many questions about how to make their lives with their children better. (If you're curious, you can see photos of the event and watch a brief promotional video at Positive Parenting-Egypt's Facebook page.) 

Tomorrow we will begin work to train a team of Positive Discipline trainers who will remain here in Cairo to teach and encourage parents. It is an amazing privilege to be here and to have the opportunity to know and work with these amazing people. I am blessed. Salam alikum.

Last night I went to Tahrir Square. I didn't go alone: I went with my host, a man who was in the square on the day the revolution began, and who remained there throughout the 18-day upheaval that started Egypt on the road to democracy. I'd been teaching all day; we had the first session of our Positive Discipline in the Classroom training for teachers at Trillium Montessori School and when we finished at 8, the director of the school and her husband decided it would be good for me to see something of old Cairo. So we dove into the turbulent seas of Cairo traffic and headed downtown. On the way to dinner, we circled Tahrir and Fadel showed me where the soldiers were, where the camels ran through the square, where the wounded were carried for treatment. I'd seen all this on the television, but it was both moving and sobering to drive beneath the stuffed effigies of Mubarak, to see the tents of protesters still in the square, and to see the banners and graffiti celebrating the revolution with my own eyes. Even close to midnight, there were people everywhere, and electricity in the very air. 

Later, as we sat in the Nubian Village restaurant on the banks of the Nile, we talked together about change. No matter how necessary, how right, and how inspired, change is challenging. Egypt is wrestling with the creation of a new constitution and the election of a president; those events are just beginning to unfold. And as democracy begins to breathe in this ancient land--we drove past the Citadel, which is more than a thousand years old and plan to visit the pyramids next week, which are more than 5,000 years old--change is spreading from Tahrir Square and the halls of government through schools and into families. 

Tomorrow I will be speaking at an all-day parenting workshop, which is open to the public. I will be talking about Positive Discipline, about what dignity and respect, cooperation and encouragement, teaching and trust look like in schools and families. Hopefully, those same tools and ideas will continue to spread throughout Egypt and the Middle East. There is a group here in Cairo of determined, inspired women who intend to take these ideas to every family and every school in Egypt. And I believe they just might do it.

You never know where life will take you. I began teaching parenting to small groups in Reno, Nevada; I now find myself halfway around the world in this huge, endlessly-moving city that is both ancient and new again. I feel deeply grateful--and yes, a little nervous. But in this place that is so different from home, I find myself among people who speak the same language I speak, a community based on Positive Discipline, the teachings of Alfred Adler, and a hope for equality, dignity and respect. Perhaps if each one of us continues to work for what we believe in, the ideals we cherish will grow beyond our wildest dreams. 

I awakened early this morning to the sound of the Arabic call to prayer being broadcast from a mosque across the street from the home where I am staying in Cairo. After 18 hours of travel, followed by a car ride through moonlit Egyptian streets, I was fuzzy-headed and almost thought I'd dreamed that beckoning song when I awoke for good a bit later on. But no--I am indeed in Cairo, a place unlike any I've ever visited before. 

There has been a peaceful revolution here, in case you haven't heard, and the people are proud of what they are accomplishing. Still, the resulting economic turmoil has had an impact as tourism has declined and businesses struggle; streets are lined with mile after mile of half-finished buildings. Driving in Cairo is both thrilling and horrifying: there are no speed limits and no traffic signals. There are lane markers but they are universally ignored and positions go to the driver who is bravest--or most foolhardy. Cars pass within inches and go whizzing by on the shoulder; horns blare constantly. And in the midst of all this are pedestrians who risk their lives to dart between cars and trucks to reach their destination. I will never complain about traffic in the U.S. again!

I have learned one Arabic word, thank you, which is pronounced "show-kron" and I have had many opportunities to use it. I have been welcomed as though I am a combination of visiting royalty and long-lost family. I spent the day at Trillium - the Montessori House preschool, where I will be teaching Positive Discipline in the Classroom starting tomorrow. I wandered through the classrooms, which looked for all the world like those at home in Early Head Start. I met and talked with the staff and teachers, and waved at the children. Oh, the children: they are, after all, the reason I am here and the reason my hosts care so much about Positive Discipline. Their dark eyes stare at my blonde hair and my unfamiliar face, but then they smile.

No matter where I travel, my mission is clear. If I can make the world a safer, more connected place for one child--and even better, if I can teach others to do the same--then my work is joy and my life is worthwhile. I am privileged and blessed to be here, and to be able to share Positive Discipline with others. More to follow!

I am wandering around my house, making piles of my belongings, with Peter, Paul & Mary's classic "Leavin' on a Jet Plane" playing in my head. On Monday afternoon, I will climb aboard a British Airways jet and wing my way to Cairo. Yes, the one in Egypt, the land of pyramids and the River Nile.

It is also, it turns out the land of Montessori schools and Positive Discipline, and I have been invited to train the staff at Trillium - the Montessori House school, to give an all-day parenting workshop at the City Stars Hotel, and to train some remarkable women who have managed to learn Positive Discipline without ever meeting a "live" facilitator. I will be their first experience with that; let's hope it's a good one!

What is remarkable to me is that Positive Discipline, the approach to parenting and teaching created by Jane Nelsen and a host of colleagues, and based on the work of Alfred Adler, is sometimes called "democratic parenting" (as opposed to authoritarian or permissive parenting). And in case you haven't noticed, Egypt has been wrestling with the birth of democracy in a long-time authoritarian culture. The women who have invited me see this as a reflection in the home and school of the changes taking place politically and culturally in their country. There is great interest in this work; I have been receiving emails on a daily basis and feel as though I'm flying to meet old friends. It is also both moving and sobering to be traveling to a part of the world where there has been such struggle and conflict in the name of democracy and equal rights, and where change is so raw and new.

Democracy, by the way, looks a bit different when we're talking about parenting. It doesn't mean that children are equal to parents, or that everyone gets a vote. That would quickly become anarchy, I suspect. Instead, it means that everyone in the family--and every human being--is worthy of dignity and respect. Positive Discipline teaches that we get a much better result when we avoid shame, humiliation, control, and punishment, and instead focus on connection, teaching, encouragement, and respect. And yes, we follow through when necessary.

Over the coming two weeks, I hope to post blogs about my adventure in Egypt. I also plan to post photos and updates on my "Parenting with Cheryl Erwin" Facebook page. Stay tuned, and send me your prayers and support. And hey, I'll say hi to King Tut for you!

I am a creature of habit. I like to begin my mornings with a cup of coffee and the morning paper: sort of the calm before the storm of my daily routine. I was reading the San Francisco Chronicle the other morning when an article made me laugh out loud. A man in Montana led police on a chase at speeds of more than 100 miles per hour. When the troopers finally pulled him over, they asked him why he'd done it. The guy looked at them, shrugged, and said, "I just always wanted to do that." He was fined $1,000.

I do not recommend emulating his behavior:It's dangerous and foolish. But there's somethingn to be said for making one's dreams come to life. My husband and I spent a recent vacation on the north shore of Kauai, and I decided that I was going to take a surfing lesson. No particular reason, other than that I grew up body-surfing and boogie-boarding but never had the chance to try to stand up on a surfboard. I'd always wanted to try and I realized that at 57, I'm not exactly getting younger. I had a great teacher, and after about an hour of paddling, flailing, and falling, I found myself standing upright on my board, riding a wave in to the beach. It was absolutely thriliing.

When I told a friend that I'd crossed an item off my bucket list, he asked if that meant I was one step closer to the bucket. I laughed--but the truth is that every day that passes brings us one step closer to that bucket. How long can we risk waiting to achieve our hopes and dreams?

So, here's a question for you to ponder, gentle readers. If you are a parent, what is on your Parenting Bucket List? What experiences do you want your child to have as she grows to adulthood? If you could pack her memory box with treasures to savor later on, what moments would you give her to remember and cherish? Every parent I know is busy. They work hard to build a home and nurture their families; sometimes time to just "be" and to connect with those you love without feeling rushed or anxious is hard to come by. And sometimes, parents compensate for the nagging sense that they're not present enough with, well, presents: we give things instead of time and memories. But as childhood passes, it's not the things that children remember. They will remember moments, memories, laughter, closeness, connection. 

What do you remember of your own childhood? Are there memories you wish you had, but don't? What do you want your child to remember when she is your age? Now is the time to begin that Parenting Bucket List, and to make those wishes reality. Make it a rich, full life, for you and for your child. You won't regret it.

Where on earth do the days go? And what happened to all my good intentions? Weeks have gone by since I wrote a little something to you, and in that time I've had my first real vacation in several years, spent wonderful moments with my family, and watched a new year begin. And although it may be a bit belated, allow me to send you and those you love my warmest wishes for a healthy, connected, and peaceful 2012.

As I mentioned, my husband and I were fortunate enough to be able to take a real vacation to a place near the ocean--and in my humble opinion, anywhere near the ocean is about as close to paradise as it's possible to come on this earth. Even better, my 27-year-old son and his girlfriend joined us for a week, and we got to discover what fun it is to have great adult kids.

After a few days, however, I began to notice something interesting happening. We had a combined total of two iPads, four smart phones, one laptop, two digital cameras, and two iPods. The techno-gizmos were never out of reach and we laughed at the constant requests for photo ops--and it's wonderful to have those photos to share with others and to allow us to savor precious memories. I began to notice, however, that I was doing more sightseeing through my camera than I did with my eyes alone, and spending almost as much time posing people as I did talking to them. And I began to wonder: do you really experience life when you're occupied with merely recording it? 

So I shifted gears a bit. I made a point of sitting quietly and simply watching the scene in front of me, of breathing mindfully and allowing my eyes and heart to absorb what I was seeing. I paid attention to the quality of light--morning, mid-day, sunset--and the constant motion of the waves. I listened deeply to the sounds around me. And I did my best to focus on being present with those I love, to be less intent on getting a great photo than I was on feeling truly connected, to looking into their eyes and really hearing their voices. I am grateful for all my digital memories: but the moments I find myself recalling now with clarity are those I simply lived. 

There are so many distractions in life, many of them unavoidable. We work; we keep our homes and families running; we sleep and try to take care of ourselves. And we do our best to record moments with our children and those we love that we understand will never come again. But sometimes we just need to show up and live life in the first person, with no props and no distractions. We need to be fully, deeply present to our partners and to our children, and to trust our hearts and minds to remember what we need to remember. We need to breathe in this moment, and to let it be enough. 

As this new year progresses, take five minutes each and every day to breathe, to be, and to listen without interruption to each person in your family. Really listen, without rushing ahead in your mind to the next task on your agenda; gaze into your child's eyes, your partner's eyes, with full attention. Do your best to live life in the present tense; you'll have lots of time for looking backward later on.

I have to laugh; this is supposed to be a weekly blog. And honest, I have wonderful intentions. But I sat down this afternoon, between clients in my office, and made a "to do" list, an activity that often helps me focus my attention and feel a bit more in control of my life. My list had 17 items on it, almost all of which need to be completed in the next three weeks. I almost cried.

This is, as you may have noticed, the Christmas season. It's beautiful: lights are lit, trees glow in windows, and festive decorations are displayed for passers-by to enjoy. But it's a busy time, too. There is shopping to do, and mailing, and meals and celebrations to plan, while work and children still need tending to. Families are meant to look like a Norman Rockwell painting: peaceful, smiling, happy, and connected. But the people who have been sitting on my couch lately look a lot like I feel. They're overwhelmed, stressed out, anxious, and irritable;their families are complicated and life isn't simple. What is going on?

You may have heard about the recent study that shows the results of what we call "multi-tasking." This is, by the way, a polite word for the craziness that happens in most American families, the expectation that we can and should do several things well all at once. The study revealed that men multi-task almost exclusively about work, and they feel satisfied with the results of their efforts. But women are multi-multi-tasking: they leave the office and find themselves confronted by what many call the "arsenic hour": the high-wire juggling act of connecting with children, getting dinner on the table, finishing up important tasks, and getting everyone organized for the next day. Women reported that they are most definitely not satisfied with the results of multi-tasking. They feel frazzled, annoyed, anxious, and exhausted. Whatever happened to peace on earth, anyway?

I am not implying that dads don't do their fair share. But I find myself looking at my own "to do" list and the stories of the families who wander into my office, and I wonder what our priorities are. So here are a few suggestions for the multi-tasking generation:

* Slow down. Really: stop and take a breath. Hug your kids. Simplify your life a bit. During these busy days, settle for grilled cheese sandwiches and canned soup for dinner; focus on hugs instead. 

* Examine your priorities. Which pieces of your holiday traditions really matter, and which are you doing out of habit? Invite your children to help you: yes, the gift-wrapping they do may be a bit lopsided, but I bet Grandma will value it even more than your beautiful packages, and you'll have wonderful times chatting and singing carols while you share the tape and scissors.

* Connect with your family first and then worry about what needs to be done. Children don't do well with multi-tasking: they need your undivided attention and to connect with you on a regular basis. If you can listen for a few moments to your son's stories about recess and laugh with your daughter about her friend's funny outfit, and hug your partner, you may discover that those tasks and chores happen much more smoothly. 

* Delegate. Everyone else may not do things exactly as you would, but you'll have time to breathe and relax and everyone else will get to feel capable, engaged, and valued. 

* Celebrate. Really celebrate. Regardless of where life has taken you this holiday season, you are alive and able to experience the beauty of life. I wish you, wherever you are, a beautiful, connected, and peaceful Christmas, Hannukah, and holiday season.

The days leading up to Thanksgiving always make me feel like such a curmudgeon. I really love the Thanksgiving holiday: it's an opportunity to remember all the many reasons why, despite the ills and challenges we sometimes face, we are still among the most blessed people on the planet. As a recent research study reminds us (see my "Parenting with Cheryl Erwin" Facebook page for details), gratitude is good for us. People who regularly count their blessings experience health benefits, have stronger relationships, and generally feel more positive about their lives than those who don't. 

Still, the airwaves are jammed with advertising pushing people out their doors and into the malls. I always thought Thanksgiving night was designed for groaning on the counch about how much pumpkin and pecan pie you ate, but this year stores are opening Thanksgiving night for "door buster" sales. People are planning Black Friday parties, getting up at 3 a.m., and lining up outside the big-box store of their choice for irresistible bargains. Whether anyone really needs the items they will be purchasing is open for debate. After all, as our legislators and the newscasters remind us, spending is good. Apparently, the health of the nation depends directly on how much each of us spends on Black Friday.

Yikes. My idea of Thanksgiving is a bit different. I believe it deserves an entire day, unfettered by advertising and pressure to start Christmas early. So here, in no particular order, are some random thoughts about Thanksgiving and gratitude in general.

* Figure out what matters. Sit down with your family and friends and decide what is worth doing. You do not "have to" do anything. You can dispense with Aunt Margaret's incredibly involved casserole if no one really loves eating it; instead, use the time to connect with your family members. 

* Focus on relationships. Smile; tell family stories. Laugh as much as you can. Look at old photos, and encourage Grandma and Grandpa to tell those stories again about when they were courting, and what you did when you were a naughty three-year-old. Look around you, and remember to be thankful for the fact that you're breathing clean air and enjoying another day of life. 

* Think carefully about what you spend money on. Yes, money matters, to our economy and to each individual family. Do your best not to get caught up in the Black Friday frenzy; instead, perhaps you could spend time making gifts together, offering service to your community, or spending gift money wisely on things people truly need.

* Remember, wants and needs are not the same thing. (See previous item.)

* What do you want your children to learn and to decide as a result of this Thanksgiving holiday? That love equals money and heaps of presents? Or that what matters is time spent together, listening and laughing and learning?

The decision is yours. I, for one, am wishing all of you a generous, warm, and blessed Thanksgiving Day. 

I still remember the 14-year-old boy I met several years ago for a first appointment in my office. He was nervous--not surprisingly, since seeing a therapist wouldn't be on any 14-year-old's list of favorite things to do--and he wanted me to know he didn't really have any problems (other than his overprotective mother, of course). He announced to me, with an appealing mixture of bravado and shyness, that he had 452 friends. 

At the time, I was unfamiliar with social media. I remember thinking, "How on earth can he possibly know that he has exactly 452 friends?" Of course, eventually I figured out that he was referring to his MySpace page, which later morphed into his Facebook page. And now, Facebook is everywhere and "friend" is a verb rather than just a lowly noun. I'm curious, however, about friendship. Do kids make and keep friends these days the good old-fashioned way?

The research is piling up quickly, folks, and the initial results are sobering. But first, let me be clear: this is not a Doomsday rant about the evils of modern technology. I am writing this blog (another word that didn't exist 10 years ago) on a new Mac computer, using notes and articles I've clipped on my Kindle, while texting a colleague on my smart phone. I'm on Facebook, too, both personally and professionally. Like it or not, the technology is here to stay. More than that, it is expanding in power and applications and no one can foresee with any precision where it is headed. My son is now 27 years old; ten years ago, when he was in high school, our big debate was whether or not he could have a pager. Anyone remember pagers? Pay phones?

These days, 10 percent of American two-year-olds have used a smart phone, tablet, or other mobile device. Half of babies under the age of two watch two hours a day or more of television. One in 10 kids ages 5 to 8 uses a mobile device every day and 39 percent use a computer every day. One survey found that most kids spend twice as much time watching TV every day as they do reading or being read to, despite the fact that we know reading is one of the best ways to ensure kids will do well in school. 

Experts like Bruce Perry, who has spent a lifetime working with children who have suffered childhood trauma, believes that moving our relationships "online" is having a negative effect on our ability to feel--and to teach our children to feel--empathy. A recent study found that kids are willing to be ruder and meaner online than they would in person because they don't need to fear physical violence or face-to-face reactions. The same study found that 95 percent of all teens ages 12 to 17 are online and 80 percent of them use social networks, as compared to 55 percent online in 2006. The experiences are mixed: teens report that they have been bullied, that things have been posted that made them worry about going to school the next day, and that some have ended friendships over Facebook postings. But others note that they have come to the defense of someone being bullied online, and that Facebook encounters have made them feel good about themselves and hopeful about their lives.

In other words, it's not a black-or-white issue. Technology and social networking are only going to grow, and there are both gifts and challenges folded into these amazing new parts of our lives together. Some preliminary research indicates that texting and communicating through a screen is damaging our kids' ability to use the language (both spoken and written) and may even be changing the way their brains are wired, making it more difficult for them to read facial expressions and nonverbal communication. Tablets and computers also open whole new worlds for exploration and connection. What is a parent to think? To do?

We live in an age of digital connection. But we need to remember that the human brain--and the human spirit--still depends on human connection. In other words, there is simply no substitute for face-to-face, connected, attuned relationship. It may be tempting to give your child the latest gadget to prepare her for school--or to keep her entertained when you have things to do. But remember that all important early learning happens through the relationship a child has with her mother and father, and later on, with a caring circle of friends and teachers. If those critical relationships are disrupted or insecure, a cascade of problems can ensue. 

Your child does not need an iPhone, a Kindle Fire, a Leapfrog, or whatever latest and greatest product hits the shelves next week. I'm serious: some of us actually grew to adulthood without a computer or the ability to text, back in the days when a friend was someone you could actually hug. What your child needs is you: your time, your attention, your involvement and love. Gadgets and doo-dads are optional.

I've spent the last week as the "guest expert" on a large national website for moms called "Cafe Mom." Now, I have some issues with the word "expert", since I don't actually believe there's any such thing as a "parenting expert." (I was sort of an expert on my own son when he was younger, but he would be the first to tell you that I didn't know as much as I thought I did!) Still, I've spent 20 years studying how children grow and learn, and what parents can do to nurture capable, resilient, solid young people, so I thought perhaps I could make a contribution. The process was to log in to "Ask the Expert", read the questions, and then post an answer. It turned out to be quite an experience.

In the first 24 hours of my "experthood", there were more than 50 questions posted, most of them by parents of children five and younger. And to be honest, most of those questions broke my heart. If the challenges and issues faced by these 50 moms are a representative sample of parenting in the United States today, here's what we're looking at:

* Parents appear to have little or no idea of typical development, especially in early childhood; they seem to think two-year-olds should be able to think, respond, and behave just like 32-year-olds.

* Every toddler appears to have learned that the way to get what you want is to scream, kick, bite, throw things, and generally pitch a fit, at home and in public. 

* Parents respond to the above behavior by giving in, which leads to more of the above behavior.

* The most popular parenting tools for parents of the preschool set appear to be taking everything away (including the DVD player and TV that were in the four-year-old's room--which never should have been there in the first place), giving things back in an unpredictable fashion, and then taking them away again when undesireable behavior returns; counting to three and then putting a child in "time out"; and yelling. (Yelling is big; everyone says they hate doing it but it doesn't seem to slow them down any.)

Yes, I am being a bit tongue-in-cheek here. Some of the questions dealt with difficult issues, such as domestic violence, divorce, and special needs. But the vast majority of the questions posted were almost word-for-word the same: they asked about "bad" children who just "don't listen", who are disrespectful and difficult to get along with, who are selfish and demanding. All of these parents love their children--and all of them are tearing their hair out.

I certainly had my moments as the mother of a young son, especially since mine was a whole lot smarter than I am. But eventually I discovered the many resources available to parents and I took the time to learn what I didn't know. I took a parenting class and read parenting books; eventually I began teaching parenting classes because it helped me remember what I needed to know myself. Later on, I returned to school to pursue a career in marriage and family therapy and parent coaching. It's been incredibly rewarding work, but most important, it gave me the tools and resources to deal with my own son in a more effective way than I would otherwise have had.

The good news is that Cafe Mom and all the other parenting forums are giving parents a place to go and ask these questions. Our communities have changed and many young parents don't have the support network around them that I did; the computer is their lifeline. As far as I can tell, though, many parents are trying to do their best with limited skills, or by doing more of things that don't work, like punishment, bribery, and yelling. So here are some gentle suggestions:

* Take a parenting class. Or sign up for parent coaching. Really. It doesn't mean you're a bad parent: it means you care enough about being a good parent that you're willing to look for answers. Read a lot. And then think carefully about what fits for you and your child.

* Remember that parenting is a long-term arrangement. Yes, you can "discipline" your child by taking away everything he values--but what will he be deciding, thinking, and feeling? Most parents simply react to irritating behavior by doing whatever pops into their head--and sometimes that just doesn't teach children what they really need to know for the future. Children need connection with you and they need skills. Punishment and yelling simply don't teach anything useful (except that adults think anger and loud noises work).

* Children are not miniature adults. They are different in many developmental ways; their brains simply don't process the world the way adult brains do. Educate yourself about what your two-year-old or six-year-old or 12-year-old is like, and then make thoughtful choices about parenting that work with the person your child really is. A child's developmental needs always speak with a louder "voice" than you do.

* Children need your time and attention. You may believe they should be seen and not heard, but that isn't the way it works. The stronger the bond you have with your child, the easier it will be to manage their behavior as they learn and explore their world. It takes time and patience--lots of it. 

* Make sure you're doing something to care for yourself and keep the joy in parenting. Go out with your partner; have coffee with friends. Get some exercise; get enough sleep. If you're stressed and irritable, your parenting will reflect that--and your children will feel stressed and irritable, too.

Parenting requires limitless amounts of love, but love alone is not enough. Parenting also requires thought and planning. It requires education and patience. It requires determination. And it's the most important thing you will ever do. There are a wealth of resources available out there; you can find answers and coaching right here on this website. If you're struggling, find skills and support. It may be the most worthwhile investment you can make in the future of your family.