Category Archives: Parenting

Worried About Sexting

Sometimes, I think, I am the not-fun mom.  Sometimes, I think, I am the over-analyzer.  These thoughts tend to sneak up on me, most often following a funny look from another mom.  It’s the look that says, “Really?  Huh.  Why would you worry about that?”  No Wii.  No X-Box.  Not even TiVo!  She doesn’t say it, of course.  At least, not usually.  No, I am here to attest that, every so often, manners still win out.  
Don’t misunderstand–my kids have plenty of fun.  We tube, we ski, we play charades, for goodness sakes.  But from the beginning I have been wary of media’s influence on my kids.  The numbers are out there, and if you don’t believe the numbers, take a look around the world, your town, your children’s schools.  One of the reasons I’m wary about all of this so-called “education reform” is that it’s not just the schools that are responsible for educating our kids.  I’m a firm advocate that parents are first, first, first–we are the front line for our kids and we decide, from a very early age, how they’re going to spend their time.  It’s the old garbage-in, garbage-out theory.  Firm believer.
Does this mean I think kids who play games on the Wii every week are bound for social and academic failure?  Please.  Come on.  Give me a smidge more credit than that.  The top kid in my son’s class is a video-game stud, so no, I don’t think that in the least.  Do I think there are better things my kids could do with their time?  You bet I do.  Wanna argue?  Bring it on.  I’m their mom, and for them, for now, I decide.  I’ve argued it before.  Happy to do it again.
With this background, please know that I am all for moderation.  If you own these games and use them when the whim hits, more power to you.  It’s your family, see?  I’m all for each of us deciding what works best.  And hey, invite us over.  We love the Wii.  My 6-year old can beat me at Wii tennis every time, which is a tad embarrassing, but, you know, he’s in lessons so he definitely has an advantage.  We’re not Luddites.  We have friends.  We have family.  They have stuff.  We have plenty of opportunities to jump in on the technological fun.  
We even joined in, a bit, earlier this year, when we got our oldest son a cell phone.  Yes, yes, I know.  Everyone is stunned.  I even got a phone call from one friend who didn’t believe it when her son came home with the news.  But here’s the thing:  I don’t want  ‘no’ to be my knee-jerk reaction to my kids.  When I say ‘no’ to the X-Box, I have a reason.  I have more than one.  I have reasons I feel so strongly about that I’m not the least bit concerned about ‘what everyone else’ has or does.  I don’t feel this way about the cell phone.  At this point, it’s simply a social tool.  I’m not sure he’s even talked on it, except with me.  Mostly he uses it for texting that looks something like this:
‘Sup?
Nothin.
Kay.
C Ya.
Over and over again.  Occasionally there’s more, like the loquacious, “‘What’s up lil man,” but that’s pretty rare.  These will be men of few words.
The one concern I have about texting is the growing practice of sexting.  You know what this is, right?  Sexting is the high-school girlfriend/boyfriend practice of e-mailing nude or sexually explicit photos of one another to one another.  Nice, huh?
As much as I would prefer to stick my head waaaayyyy down in the sand and forget I ever heard about this practice, I can’t.  I know it seems like eons ago, but I was a teenager.  I had a boyfriend.  I can see how this happens in the tiny little world of love teenagers create for themselves.  But, like the WORLD WIDE web, a photo on a phone is anything but private.  An argument, some angry words, a couple of clicks, and it’s the photo seen ’round the school.  High school was hard enough.  Thinking about this kind of pressure makes me cringe.
When we hear stories about sexting, I think it’s natural for moms to think, “Well, she shouldn’t have sent the photo in the first place,” or “He should have used better judgement.”  That’s easy for us to say.  We’re not teenagers in love.  They’re not our kids.  She shouldn’t have and he should have, but this is what’s happening.  Twenty percent (20%!) of teens say they’ve sent or posted nude pictures or videos of themselves.  And they’re the frontrunners.  How high will this number grow in the years until our kids reach high school?  This worries me, the not-fun, over-analytical mom.
Do my kids have good judgement?  Sure, for kids.  Will they make mistakes?  Yep, still human, last I checked.  It’s the consequences of these mistakes that concerns me.  I made so many mistakes as a kid that I’m pretty sure my mom stopped counting somewhere along the way.  The fact that she didn’t set me out at the curb with a “For Sale, Cheap” sign is a sure testament to her motherly love.  But there were no cell phones.  No digital photos.  No Internet.  My consequences were smaller.  More personal.  More contained.  And then I moved on.
For kids today, it’s not so easy.  Last week, I watched an incredibly heartbreaking MSNBC clip.  In it, Matt Lauer interviews Cythia Logan, mom of Jesse Logan.  
Eight months ago, Jesse, a high school senior in Ohio, took her own life.  As a parent, I can’t imagine a greater horror than walking into my child’s bedroom and finding her hanging in her closet.  I can’t imagine the pain, I can’t imagine the anguish.  I can’t imagine going forward.
Jesse had been dating a boy, and like most teenagers today, they both had cell phones.  She took a nude photo of herself and sent it to his phone.  Later, after their break-up, he forwarded the photo, leading to such a humiliating and painful trial for Jesse that she eventually ended her own life.
After the picture was forwarded, she tried to help others.  A disguised Jesse gave an interview to a Cincinnati TV station, warning other kids about the dangers of sexting, and pleading,  “I just want to make sure than no one else will ever have to go through this again.”

In the Today Show clip on MSNBC, Dr. Mark Reinecke comments on the practice of teenage sexting by saying,

“In the moment, it’s, to a teenager, just fine.  It’s when it goes to the whole school or to the employer or to the college admissions office; that’s when the trouble….and that’s what they’re not thinking about.”

As photos of a smiling, happy Jesse roll, her mom, Cynthia, describes Jesse before the whole sexting incident.  Her daughter “was vivacious, she was fun, she was artistic, she was compassionate, she was a good kid.”
If this watching this clip doesn’t make you break down and cry, I don’t know what will.  But I think we should watch it.  I think every parent with a child and a cell phone needs to get our heads out of the sand and into our kids lives.  I’m not naive enough to believe that we can protect our kids from all of the bad things that can happen.  But I am a proponent of doing what we can:  educating ourselves, educating our kids, and watching out for each other.

Tramp Stamp Barbie: Wow!


So Barbie turned 50 and got herself a tatt.  If this isn’t causing a stir among moms, what is?

Opinions are so strong on both sides, ranging from the far conservative “Mattel is bad.  Bad!” to those way over on the other side yelling, “Hey, awesome, tatts for all!”  
Where do I fall?  As usual, to my mother’s chagrin, somewhere in the middle.  I think my mom would like to hear me say, “No way.  This is totally wrong.”  Or, “Yes, go Barbie!  Get some tatts already,” instead of, “Well, I don’t like it, but I don’t think it should be banned.”  “Take a stand, will ya.”  I can hear her already.
So here’s the thing:  I’m not a fan of the tattoo.  If you have one, I don’t think less of you or think you’re trashy or think you’re super cool.  I mostly think, “Ouch,” and “Wow, I hope you still look that good when you’re 60.”  It’s the permanence that bothers me.  For my son, who went through a “Weird Al is so cool” stage (and would not be caught dead flaunting those same songs on his iPod a mere 2 years later), I put it this way:
“Remember when you thought Weird Al was so great?”  
“Uh, huh.  Yeah,” as he glances sideways at me, wondering where I’m going with this.
“You downloaded all those songs, and we even went to that concert?”
Laughing now, “Yeah, I remember.  So what?”
“Well, what if you had gotten a big tattoo that said ‘Weird Al Rocks.’  How would you feel about that now?”
Eyes WIDE open.  
Point to mom.
A dear friend of mine has a tattoo on her lower back, off to the right.  Unless you’re hanging out with her at the sauna, you’re not gonna see it.  It’s small, and she got it before she turned 20, and now she wishes she hadn’t.  It just doesn’t fit who she is anymore.  And that’s the thing.  At every stage, we think we know our own self best.  At 10, we’re good.  At 20, we’re better.  It takes awhile to realize that we don’t always have it goin’ on, at least not as well as we think we do.
My childhood behavior was far from ideal.  Trouble, yep, I had some.  If they’d have been popular in my day, I’d have been a prime candidate for a belly ring.  Do I equate belly rings with trouble?  Nope.  Would it have caused trouble in my family?  All sorts.  I relished those opportunities, sorry to say.  And, girlfriends, you better believe I’m glad tatts weren’t popular back then.  Because I have grown and travelled and experienced and I am not the same girl I once was.  I’d be really sorry now if I had a body full of permanent ink claiming to be something or someone I’m not.
That said, press-on tattoos with kids have been popular since mine were born.  Every birthday party, school party, and Halloween sees some kind of press-on tatt action.  One of the first things we did at my son’s Pirate Party was give everyone a pirate tattoo.  I don’t love ’em, but I don’t ban ’em, either.  They wash right off.  Well…after a week or so they do.
For parents who think real tattoos are art, or offer a necessary form of self-expression, well, they’re the parents.  That’s the thing about a democracy.  We all get to choose:  to buy or not buy, to support or not support, to vote for or against, all sorts of things.  Even Totally Stylin’ Tattoos Barbie, which, by the way, is Mattel’s official name for the doll.

How Involved Should Grandma Be?

My husband and I both grew up on the east coast, but haven’t lived there since we got married.  It’s hard for both of us to believe, but it’s true, nonetheless.

Living away from where we grew up means many things, from the occasional cultural gap with our friends to traveling for holidays to talking to Grandma and Grandpa using a webcam and SKYPE.  Still, our parents are as hands-on with our kids as they can be from 10 and 12 hours away.  (See mine in the photo, taking my kids into DC.  Good sports!  Brave souls!)  They visit often, try to make it out for different sports seasons, and are (mostly) happy to chip in and babysit when my husband and I need to get out of Dodge for awhile. 

One of the few advantages, I suppose, to living this far away is that we don’t have to deal with either of these situations:

  1. Our parents live in the same town, but aren’t the slightest bit interested in babysitting.  Not only do they give us our space, they create more than we’d like. 
  2. Our parents live nearby and are so integral to our family that we couldn’t function without them, even though maybe we should.  Our needs come before theirs, and they still help us solve our problems.

Both of these scenarios are addressed in Joanne Kaufman’s article yesterday, in the NYTimes, When Grandma Can’t Be Bothered.  But, clearly, the article focuses on Scenario A, calling these women “glam-mas.”  In the article, Kaufman quotes writer Catherine Conners’ mother:

“I raised two children whom I love dearly, “ she said.  “I was a stay-at-home mom.  Then I discovered when I started my own career that there was a whole other world out there.”

I think this is interesting for two reasons:

1)    Grandma Conners is unapologetic for her stance.  She loves her kids, she loves her grandkids, but she’s been there and done that.  Enough said.

2)    Don’t we all want our children to find their own way?  Isn’t that what Grandma Conners has done?  Is this all bad?

I wonder if there isn’t a happy medium here.  I mean, of course we know there is, but does it exist in the real world?  Do your parents or in-laws live nearby?  Do you find yourself fitting tidily into Scenario A or B above?  If not, how have you managed it?  Did you have to set parameters?  Did your healthy relationship evolve naturally?  If you had one piece of advice for new parents with nearby grandparents, what would it be?