2013-05-19T02:12:25-04:00 Mara Shapiro http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/author/index.php?author=mara-shapiro Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Mara Shapiro Good old fashioned elbow grease. tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.3249807 2013-05-10T16:35:02-04:00 2013-05-10T16:35:08-04:00

Mara Shapiro http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mara-shapiro/
The only truth I've learned about actual mothering during my tenure is this: As soon as you think you've got the skills down pat, those kids change the game. They do something like get older or change who they are, or whatever. And then it's back to square one. That place otherwise known as "Oh crap. What do I do now?"

No, what I've learned is about me (really, it always boils down to me). It's been a voyage of self-discovery, this Mom and Pop operation. So, what have I found out in the last 19 (OY!) years besides the fact, as I mentioned, that I don't really know what I'm doing and yet I seem to be doing it fairly competently (as evidenced by the fact that nobody is flunking out, on drugs, in prison, or banned from anyone's house.)

I'm totally a super-hero. I know things, without even trying to know them. I can fix the most terrible boo boos with cold water, the promise of a rainbow, and a kiss. I can hear things that are whispered, even when people aren't at home. I can just sense when something is off-kilter or feelings are hurt. I can also do imaginary things that don't exist except for the most special of us, like cause dishes to move into and out of the dishwasher, enable the cleaning and folding of clothes, activate the food-in-the-fridge program, and most difficult of all, turn off lights and close doors and cupboards.

I can make something from nothing. Well, not really, but it's un-freaking believable what kinds of feasts I can create with a carrot, milk, some cheese, a few noodles (sprinkled with Mama glitter, of course. Don't ask why the cupboards are bare, because it's not that I didn't have time per se to go grocery shopping, but more due to the fact that I didn't actually want to.) I can also procure bristol boards at 10:00 on a Sunday night, make igloos out of glitter glue and some styrofoam, pull Kleenex from the air, and make a pair of shorts out of jeans that are too small.

I can shape shift. One minute I'm Florence Nightingale (see point #1) and the next I'm a teacher (You said WHAT? to her? No, that's NOT how you do it. First, you call her up and...), then I'm Mrs. Fix-it (amazing what one can do with duct tape and a pair of dress pants), and a few minutes later I'm Mr. Rogers (Welcome to my neighborhood, won't you please come in and eat all my food. No problem, I can just buy more...)

I'm a super-sleuth. I am all-knowing and can figure out mostly everything with my magical unicorn powers. And, what I don't know, I can Google in the bathroom, on an iPhone, while pretending to pee. I can also find anything, no matter where it is. Even if it's not there, I can find it, and it doesn't actually have to exist for it to show up when I cause it to. I don't even have to twitch my nose or snap my fingers.

I can shoot daggers out of my eyes. If I'm mad, I don't even have to say a word. I can just stare, emitting the most poisonous Jewish-guilt-tipped death rays. These looks are able to pierce even the most unrepentant child's heart and conscience, and are far more effective than raising the voice, (a fact which has taken me 18 and two-thirds years to learn.) **Probably my greatest accomplishment as a mother.***

I can travel time. I'd never have imagined it, but I can be in more than one place at the same time. It's truly amazing. You know, I can be on a school field trip, the dentist, yoga, and my kitchen -- all at once. Sometimes the time-traveling is just in my imagination, often during a particularly long and boring story about someone's teacher's sister and their project that... Tahiti... the gym... Adam Levine's house... And sometimes the time traveling is on the wrong day, like that one time (or was it twice) I took my son to a Bar Mitzvah and it was the next weekend.

What else have I learned as a mother? Well, the usual stuff: what unconditional love truly is, patience, kindness, and understanding; fear, hope, and that no matter how many kegels you do when you're pregnant, you'll still never really be able to jump on a trampoline with confidence.

Oh, and also, that no matter how hard you try to keep it from them, your kids will eventually find out what you really were like in high school. They're smart like that. Really smart.

And you? What shizzle can you add to your mom resume?]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.3099993 2013-04-17T17:14:48-04:00 2013-04-18T11:44:27-04:00

Mara Shapiro http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mara-shapiro/
From rape that's gone punished and unpunished; celebrity ignorance; suicide; bullying; shootings, bombings and just generalized nasty and unkindness in the world, our snatched conversations in the kitchen or the car have taken a turn for the negative. Sometimes it feels like I'm constantly facing emotional damage control with them.

While I'm saddened by the need to have all of these conversations with them, I'm even more disturbed by their responses. I'm starting to feel like these kids are immune or maybe even hardened to what seems to be evolving into a horrible, cold, cruel world. Do they not care? Or are they simply blasé, as one of my best friends describes her children?

Here are some examples of what I mean.

On the boys who raped Rehtaeh Parsons "There are a lot of really bad teenagers in this world, including kids. A lot, mom. They're never going to catch or punish all of them."

On the Glee episode about school shootings "We've been practicing Code Reds since Grade 1. You go to a corner, drop, and don't move or say a word. What's the big deal?"

On the bombing of the Boston Marathon "It's really bad. But really, really bad things happen every day. Have you read what's happening in Liberia, Mom? Go look it up."

It concerns (or maybe frightens) me that they talk so matter-of-factly about these horrors. That to them, this is ordinary. This is normal.

The question is, then, what does a parent or educator do in these situations? Do I rile them up and egg them on to get a response, or do I let things lie and walk away?

I feel like I'm between a rock and a hard place. I want to raise sensitive, caring, emotionally available young people. I want them to be empathetic, to feel for others, to fight for what's right and to do something when they see someone in need or wrong being done.

But, at the same time, I don't want to alarm them or turn them into neurotic over-reactors who freak out or get depressed when they witness violence around them, especially when it's a situation over which they have no control or cannot impact.

When they tell me that there are bad people in the world, am I to say, 'Oh yes there are. Why aren't you more angry about it? '

Because teenagers are by nature egocentric (think Justin Bieber at the Anne Frank House), I think that as parents we have to walk a fine balance between telling (or pushing) our kids how to feel and helping them find that 'spark' that will become their call-to-action.

I really believe that turning your kid's empathy on has to be a covert operation. We're so used to telling them what to do, that when have the urge to tell them which emotion is appropriate, we need to remember back off and tread lightly.

• Talk to them and ask questions. Help them to explore their feelings and develop their emotional intelligence.

• Listen. Sometimes your child will tell you that something in the world bothers them, but in the quietest way. And, it may not be the most obvious element.

• Be open. Remember that not everybody cares about the same things. Don't be afraid to answer questions or to take to the Internet if you don't have all the answers.

• Encourage. Help them to find what they care about, and then to find ways to become involved (even if it's just writing a Facebook post, they're acting).

• Create awareness. Talk about current events, inequities, and even devastating or sad events.

• Model the behavior. If you don't care, your kids won't care. If you don't act, your kids won't act.

We are definitely not going to change the world our kids are growing up in. But, we definitely can change how our kids interact with it.

How do you help your teenagers connect with the world around them?]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.3015937 2013-04-04T17:08:35-04:00 2013-04-04T17:09:31-04:00

Mara Shapiro http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mara-shapiro/
Recently, I read an article on Today's Parent where the author laid out her reasons for requiring her kids to kick in for their own post-secondary educations. I disagreed with most of the author's points, but couldn't argue that young adults to take some responsibility for their fiscal situations, if only to teach them the basics of budgeting. What really bothered me, more than the concept, because every family is free to do what works for them, was the title: "Why My Kids Won't Get a Free Ride to University." These words implied to me that providing my children with the best start in life that I can afford is in fact doing something gratuitous for them, something they don't deserve, that they haven't earned.

I've got three teenagers. One already in university, one in the 11th grade, and one just finishing primary school. And, to the best of my ability, I intend to pay for their post-secondary educations. (Yes, I faint every time I think about it.)

My Dad, who passed away a couple of years ago, valued education above anything else. Growing up, his question was never "Are you going to University?", but rather, "Where are you going to go and what are you going to take?" He paid to educate four of us through undergraduate degrees (and several college courses for my youngest sister), and went so far as to help two of us out with post-graduate degrees too. Even when I was 40 years old, he'd call me up and ask me if I wanted to go to Teacher's College, get a Master's Degree, take a course. If it was learning, he was willing to spring for it.

My Dad was no kind of deep pockets, though. He wouldn't buy us expensive clothing or fancy vacations. He did like a nice meal, but didn't squander money unnecessarily. However, an education was not an area he was open to scrimping on.

What a gift he gave all of us children. What an amazing start to our adult lives.

That's why I find it interesting to hear about so many parents who do not believe in paying for their kids' educations, even if they can afford it. Especially if they can afford it.

I am not even sure if I can afford it and I want to help my kids out. And this is why:

I don't want them to start their adult lives with debt. According to this article in Macleans Magazine, it costs on average $80,000 for a student to obtain a four-year degree (I can attest to that, as I have the bills from my daughter's first year, and they added up to $18,000), and most graduate with extensive student debt. For many, the path to repayment will be at least 14 years, taking them into their mid-30s before their Bachelor's degrees are paid off (forget professional or Master's degrees). The statistics for student debt are even more overwhelming for Americans. Why in the world would I do that to my child? What kind of lesson is that?

Don't borrow when you can pay in cash. My Dad imbued in me an intense dislike of interest, unless it's the kind you're receiving. I have had 18 years to save up for my kids' educations with the ability to leverage compound interest and 20% government contributions into their RESPs. Student loans may be easy to get, but there is interest attached. Instead of paying out the percentages, bring them in. Take off $10 per paycheck, per child, and bank those decades of birthday, Christmas and Chanukah cheques. Save for their future just like you would save for your own retirement.

Teach a child to appreciate something and they won't take it for granted. My kids grew up in a middle-class lifestyle. They know that lots of families have more, but even more have much less. Being gifted with an education is just that -- a gift. And one that is accompanied by expectations, such as how they are to comport themselves and what they are to achieve. Just like all of our parenting, we let them know what's expected of them, and we don't pussyfoot around them. There's no 'free ride' in this house, but rather a deserved result of something they have worked very hard for.

University is a life experience as well as a learning experience. I truly believe that teenagers benefit from living away from home when they're taking a degree or diploma. Campus life, parties, dorm life, roommates, finding a house, apartment, managing time, budgeting, preparing meals -- these are all part of college life. To me, unless the student really isn't ready to leave home, going away for school is a necessary part of the separation process, especially in these days of helicopter parenting. So, half the money goes to tuition, and the other half goes to living expenses (unless you're living it up a little too much, like I did, and then you're coming home. Which I did. See point above.)

Now, before you think I'm all kinds of spendthrift and that my progeny have no idea about the value of a dollar, these kids do have to contribute. My daughter worked two jobs last summer and saved a ton of money to feed her shopping habits. And, she's already been told that she needs to work part-time starting in second year. But, I just don't feel like hardship makes you stronger, or more appreciative.

So, just like my father, we may not pay for designer jeans, expensive lipgloss or concert tickets. But, we do pay for university (or college, or music school, or trade school...)

Because to us, when it comes to our children's futures, we truly believe that a Penny Wise is a Pound Foolish.

Originally published on momfaze.

photo credit: MomMaven via photopin cc]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2949276 2013-03-28T16:00:50-04:00 2013-03-28T16:08:40-04:00

Mara Shapiro http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mara-shapiro/
But not in our house.

I grew up in a traditional Jewish home. For a time, we were even Kosher. (Well, Kosher-ish. The kind that permits Chinese food on paper plates.) I went to a Private Jewish Day School from grade 1 to grade 8, and had both a bat mitzvah and a confirmation (where you graduate from Hebrew School at 16). We went to synagogue on all of the holidays, and even sometimes on the Sabbath just because.

On Passover, I kept the faith. Even when I was a teenager and I was tempted to "cheat" by eating croutons on my salad or *gasp* popcorn at the movies, I felt a pressing guilt. Betraying thousands of years of history was not something I was willing to do.

My husband, on the other hand, spent his formative years in a different environment. His family paid lip service to their religious and cultural traditions. They celebrated the various holidays to make the grandparents happy, and not out of any sense of belief or community. In fact, he was raised to NOT believe -- instead of being exposed to the beauty in the traditions of his faith, he was taught they were a chore, something you do to please others, and events to be avoided at all cost.

When we decided to get married, and had the all-important, "How should we raise our kids?" talk, we agreed that we would bring them up in a Reform Jewish environment -- traditional, but not religious. We would join a synagogue, and as a family, have regular Friday night dinners, celebrate the holidays, teach our children the history of their people, and the reasons why we do things. The kids would go to Hebrew school, have bar and bat mitzvahs.

I believed that the kids wouldn't be able to make their own choices of how they wanted to participate in Judaism, or any religion at all, if they weren't exposed to it in an unbiased environment. I had a sense that my husband didn't have connections to our religion because he wasn't raised that way. It would be hard for him, but my husband also promised to keep his skeptical views to himself so the kids could get the full experience (which he sort of did, but not really).

Now, we have three teenagers who aren't that keen on doing what they call "religious stuff," despite my best efforts. In fact, two of the three have asked me why they have to be Jewish just because they were born that way. (That is a very good question, and one to which there is no easy answer.) I don't know if it's that I've raised them to be critical thinkers, to research and inquire, or just the simple fact that they're at the age where they question everything they didn't think of on their own.

Regardless, they don't believe. They're not interested.

And I'm tired.

Of pushing the envelope, of trying to make them see the value in something that I think is important, but that they do not.

Of spending hundreds of dollars on special Passover food when I know they will eat pizza when they're out with their friends.

That's why we don't keep Kosher for Passover anymore. It's not worth forcing the issue at the risk of alienating the kids further from their traditions.

I know that we have been able to instill a semblance of Jewish identity in these kids, which is going to have to be enough for now. Even though they call themselves atheists, they still have discussions about the existence of God, the purpose of religion and where they fit in the world. I truly think they see the Jewish community as a place to belong. I've come to realize, however, that ritual and identity are two sides of a coin when it comes to Judaism, and that thing called a "good Jew" (which I always endeavored to be) is an amorphous concept.

Personally, I feel a sense of loss that my family doesn't share my love of the physical traditions. In our religion, it is the mother's job to create a Jewish home. I can't help wondering if I've failed in some way. What I need to remember, though, is that I can't control what my almost-adult children think. Especially if I've done my best. I also need to be mindful that while one of the greatest things about religion is that while it can bring people together, it can also tear people apart.

So, instead of insisting everyone take on my beliefs, I've instead tried make myself more flexible. Taking the religiosity out of the rituals has enabled my in-laws, who don't believe at all, to sit at table with my late-father, who had a semblance of buy-in, with my mother, who is pretty much all-in.

When I think about what Judaism really, down deep, to the core, means to me, it is belonging. When all of us are sitting around a table that is weighted with food, I feel the warmth of inclusion. It's not the matzo that makes it so.

It's love. And history. It's family.

It's Passover.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2875832 2013-03-14T18:28:38-04:00 2013-05-14T05:12:01-04:00

Mara Shapiro http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mara-shapiro/
Those are the days when being a mom is just wearying. Tiring to the bone.

Today was such a day. A fatigue-creater. A tears-maker. A definite one for the throw-up-your-hands and throw-in-the-towel annals.

Any mom who has a special needs child will tell you that singular moments of greatness and frustration, joy and anger, why and why-not are so constant that they just blend together into just-life. As a mother of a gifted son with ADHD, I've been torn back and forth and up and down. Fleeing and flying emotions of love and hate blending and melding together until they just form a state of being.

I'm used to feeling like that. Like I did today.

But, surprisingly, today wasn't about him. Well it did start as so, as does every day. But today, his problems-pervasive, never-ending and always-sending-me-spiraling-into-sadness took second seat to his older sister's antics.

She's almost an adult, yet still able to twist that knife deep into my gut with just a few words. She doesn't like me to write about her, so this is about me.

My relationship with my own mother was always tenuous, always strained. There was, and always seems to be, a sense of disconnect. We do not get each other, in any sense of the word. She never really provided the unconditional and constant emotional support that I needed, and I never was, or so I thought, the daughter that she had envisioned. As an adult, I understand that I am in fact exactly what she wants, but that her own fallibilities, her own problems, made her unable to show that to me. But, as a teenager, I didn't know, didn't care.

I swore that would never happen with my own girl, if I was lucky to have one. But, it has. Was it inevitable? It is impossible to escape the cliché of Mother-Daughter relationships? Will we be oil and water forever? Is it her age?

Teenagers are by nature egocentric. We give them a lot of leeway knowing that hormones and immaturity and god knows what else is driving their two-faces of Eve-ness. But when those digs come, those comments that imply that ALL their problems are your fault, that they're hard done by, deprived, or they way they are because of how they were mothered, well, it's had to remember. Hard to rise above.

When you have a baby, you imagine it gets easier as they get older. That by the time they are nearly 19, they won't have the ability to make you doubt yourself. But today I had a day where it was hard to remember the good parenting moments. To remember the work I've done that has resulted in a strong, smart, independent woman.

Instead, my ego was smothered by accusations and perceived failures.

Today was a day that I felt like I wasn't a 'good' mother to this daughter. I was baited even though I wanted to stay reasonable. I got angry even though I wanted to stay rational.

I second-guessed every single one of my parenting philosophies, wondering if maybe she should have had more chores, more responsibilities, more more, less less less. Was I too nice, too mean, too attentive, not attentive enough?

The thoughts that consume a mother. Even after her child is grown.

I'm writing this because I want her to know (even though she'll probably never read this), that I'm a person, not just her mother. I have feelings, and priorities, and failures, and successes and strengths, and weaknesses. I make mistakes. And I do great things too.

I want ME to know these things too. I'm reminding myself that I have good, bad, and sometimes ugly.

I'm human.

Before I was her mother, and long after, I want ME to know I did my best.

Photo credit: Jose Chavarry via photopin cc]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.2245791 2012-12-06T16:00:04-05:00 2013-02-05T05:12:01-05:00

Mara Shapiro http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mara-shapiro/
How is this possible?

Nothing? Nada? There's nothing that you want? Teenagers in a consumer age and not only do you have everything you need, you don't actually want anything?

I was surprised. And then I patted myself on the back.

I actually wasn't going to get my kids anything for Hanukkah this year. We are going on a cruise (just the second vacation that they've ever been on), and all of the inherent excitement and fun attached to that kind of trip is really 'present' enough.

Growing up in my family, Hanukkah wasn't about the gifts. Sure, we got eight gifts, but they were tokens: bags of chocolate money (called 'gelt'); board games to share with the siblings; a book or two. The Festival of Lights was about storytelling, latkes, donuts, parties and family time. There was no St. Nick. Spending hundreds, or even thousands of dollars, on presents was for people who had a tree to put them under.

Somehow, Hanukkah has evolved into a blue and silver Jewish version of Christmas. I was guilty of participating in that circus when my kids were young, running around buying eight presents per child (That means 24 presents, in case you're worse at math than me. Which takes a long time to wrap, just so you know.) I don't know what came over me; I guess I got caught up in the power of the season, the decorations, the window displays, the flyers, the sales.

I tried to make the gift-giving more family-oriented, alternating 'me' gifts with 'family' items like games and videos. I tried to make the gift-giving more manageable by giving one 'larger' thing, and then trinkets on the other days.

It didn't work.

You know what? The lighting of the Menorah, the eating of latkes, the spinning of the dreidle? Those festive activities all began to pale next to that stack of gloriously-wrapped gifts (a different paper for each child to make for easy access).

The day would start and end with a refrain called,

When can I have my present?

Annoying. Disappointing. Greedy.

That pile of presents, eight presents per child, for those eight crazy nights, was ruining my children. It was turning them into "gimmes."

The last year that I bought into the buying frenzy that Hanukkah had become, my youngest, a very active 6-year-old with yet-to-be diagnosed ADHD, snuck into the living room when nobody was looking and ripped open all of the presents looking for the video game he had asked for.

Hours and hours of shopping, surprise-planning and wrapping. Ruined in five minutes.

Hanukkah Harry cried. The Maccabees began to wail. The oil had run out.

And I decided that our Chrismasified Hanukkah would be no more. We would return to our roots.

Video games and fancy toys and other expensive items were relegated to birthdays and report card rewards. Less focus was put on spending and more on spending time with family. Sure, my kids still got gifts. I'm not the most horrible person in the world, but they were small things like books, chocolate money, maybe a little actual cash for winter break mad money or savings.

No pile of presents.

No gimmes.

And, it worked. My kids don't ask for things unless they really need them -- or desperately want them. They save their money and then they go for it (my youngest saved up two years' worth of holiday and birthday money to purchase an iPad).

I'm not saying my way is perfect, and I know I'm lucky I have a gift-giving out by playing the Jewish card. I'm not sure how far one could take this type of plan if a Christmas tree was in the picture.

I know some people might think I'm mean, like my sister who claims that even big kids like to open presents (I know they do, but why should I blow money just to buy something?) Don't get me wrong; I absolutely adore giving gifts. Watching someone open a present that I have carefully chosen, seeing their eyes light up with joy as they receive, knowing I have made their day better by giving them what they want, well that is really special.

I know that I'll find something amazing to give to each of my three children this weekend for Hannukah. It may be a gift card to their favorite store, it may be an invitation for a mani-pedi date. A promise to swim with the dolphins on Cozumel. Or it might even be an envelope of money.

It will all bemade more meaningful because they didn't ask for it, natch, demand it. And that makes the gifting so much more meaningful. And teenagers who don't beg incesantly for stuff, THAT is the 'Great Miracle That Happened Here'.

Originally published on momfaze.com]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.2194487 2012-11-28T00:26:48-05:00 2013-01-27T05:12:01-05:00

Mara Shapiro http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mara-shapiro/
In my house, integrity is a big deal. It doesn't matter whether we're talking about cheating on a test, treating a girl with respect, stealing, or just acting with a strong compass of right and wrong.

It's been hard to raise kids with morality and integrity these days. There's a lot of pressure to look away, to do what's good for the almighty me. Living life with a lack of integrity is so much easier. It's hard to do the right thing, you know.

We live in a world where people do whatever it takes to get ahead. Where the big guy steps on the little guy. Where movies like Will Ferrell's The Campaign both spoof and glorify shady political machinations, and where we stand on the sidelines and watch the name calling, bullying, and nasty talk that traditionally accompanies any type of competitive environment.

Our world is not equitable -- never has been, and most likely never will be. The good guy often doesn't get ahead. I know that sounds pessimistic, but it's true. We'd like to naively tell our babies that it isn't so. It's hard to explain to your child that they may not get what they want because they didn't stomp on someone else to get there. Last year my son wasn't picked for student council because one teacher took it upon herself to choose the group according to some secret formula (her favorites), and he didn't measure up. I had to shrug my shoulders and inadequately explain abuse of power.

Once in a while, though, it's refreshing for us to have an example of integrity, and of those stepping over the line getting called out for it. So, I say thanks to Toronto's erswhile mayor, Rob Ford, for providing me with some concrete examples of how not to act.

Today, in a groundbreaking decision, a judge ruled that Ford was guilty of violation of conflict of interest laws, and ordered him removed from office. As Clayton Ruby, lawyer for the citizen who brought the complaint forth said: "Today's decision shows that when you break the rules, there's a price to pay."

I love that. He also said that it is tragic that the elected mayor of a great city should bring himself to this and I use that language advisedly -- Rob Ford did this to Rob Ford. It could so easily have been avoided. It could have been avoided if Rob Ford had used a bit of common sense and if he had played by the rules.

Played by the rules. Used integrity. Been honest. Things he should, as mayor of the largest city in Canada, as a role model to the very children he was supporting with his fundraising, have demonstrated.

Did Ford recognize his error? Nope. He blamed the ruling and his removal from office on left-wing politics. The left wing wants me out of here and they'll do anything in their power.

Integrity? Honesty? Owning up to one's mistakes? None of that evident here. In fact, Ford's reactions strongly reminds me of my teenagers' immediate responses when confronted by their misdemeanors.

What? It wasn't me. I didn't do it. That guy told me to.

Mayor Ford's time in office has been riddled with controversy. In fact, critics have called him a "Useful Idiot" whose usefulness has obviously run it's course, unless you need him for a case study in the Rulebook for Bad Behaviour.

Me? I choose to take something positive out of the experience of having a mayor who likes to read while he drives, engages in public drunkenness, and who thinks this whole mayoring thing is one big keg party.

I choose to hold Mr. Ford up to my children as an example of someone who got what they were asking for. Because he is someone who tried to play the game on their own rules and eventually broke one too many.

My kids need to see this. They need to see that people don't always get away with it. They need to see, instead of me just telling them, that all of their efforts to be ethical will eventually pay off.

Mayor Ford offers what I'd like to call a 'Negative Example':

• How not to act when you're entrusted with responsibility


• How not to abuse power


• Why you shouldn't take a job that you cannot do


• How not to accept responsibility for your actions


• How to excuse instead of apologize.


• How you shouldn't take consequences with your head held high


• How you should just keep making the same mistakes over and over.

I should actually thank Rob Ford for doing me this favour. He's given me fodder for at least a month's worth of parenting lectures.

What did you learn from his time in office?





]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.2171400 2012-11-26T15:25:23-05:00 2013-01-26T05:12:01-05:00

Mara Shapiro http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mara-shapiro/

Just when you wonder if all teenagers are hiding their bongs and posting pictures of themselves on Facebook with their tongues out, you meet a group of teens who remind you that they're not.

Last week, I was invited to talk about social media to a group of teenagers who are participating in an entrepreneurship program at the Jewish Community Centre. To be honest with you, I was a little bit nervous. Me, an old lady, going in to talk to a bunch of savvy teenagers about the Internet? Yeah. They were probably chomping at the bit to hear my pearls of wisdom.

I made sure to wear waterproof clothing in case they brought their rotten fruits to throw.

I showed my presentation to my son before I went into the fray. He chuckled at my Simpson's cartoon, but otherwise remained straight-faced. I felt like I was doomed. So I wore my hippest footwear and set off bravely.

I was slightly nervous when I knocked on the door. I really wanted these teens to like me, to listen to what I had to say and to understand that I was there for them, to learn from them and to help them to achieve their goals. I know. Not a tall order or anything. But, I figured, if these kids had signed up for a two-hour weekly business class they weren't going to tie me up and graffiti 'nerd' on my forehead.

I was right.

They were incredible.

I loosened them up by telling them that I was the mom of teens (they widened their eyes at that piece of information because obviously they thought I was a hipster), that I was a blogger and that I was aware that they probably knew more about the Internet than I did. After they nodded their heads and punched each other, we got down to business.

They listened. They asked me intelligent and well thought out questions. They did not heckle me (well, they did mutter under their breaths when it was obvious I had forgotten to hyperlink my links.) Nor did they laugh at my jokes (do you know what it's like to be stared at by five teens after delivering the punchline?)

Two of these kids, at 15 years old, had already written a business plan for their app that helps kids to organize their educations. Well. When I was 15 I was... umm... whatever. This isn't the time or the place. Needless to say, I was impressed.

There were two best part of the evening (besides the moment the sole girl in the group asked for my blog URL so she could check me out. THAT is the definition of success, my friends.)

Best part #1: Watching their eyes light up when I brought Pinterest up on the screen. They had heard of Pinterest, or so they said, but had never seen it in action. They were mesmerized, and I could see the wheels turning as they figured out how to make it cooler and steal it away from the moms who make up 85% of it's audience.

Best part #2: When Coolboy (I can't remember his name. I'm terrible with names. It's an affliction) put up his hand and pointing at his notebook, said,

I want to tell you the three, no four, things that I learned from you tonight.

Wowza. I smiled while trying not to faint. The instructor told me that Coolboy never ever takes notes, never puts up his hand and never ever ever admits that he learned something.

As I was packing up, two of the other boys put up their hands.

Yes? I asked them?

Can I ask you a question? They both said at the same time.

Sure. I replied, still floating on the laurels of Coolboys accolades...

Are you one of those understanding moms?

I like to think so. I replied, smiling at the first young man. Looking to the other, I invited his question.

How old are you anyways?

So much for hipster...

Moral of the story: Don't underestimate teenagers and their ability to put aside their swagger to learn. Oh, also, don't try to make them laugh.

Originally published on momfaze.com

photo credit: MacQ via photopin cc]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.2089467 2012-11-09T00:06:53-05:00 2013-01-08T05:12:01-05:00

Mara Shapiro http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mara-shapiro/
To our teenagers.

About my wild child former self. You know, the drugs, sex, booze, and rock and roll years.

The issue has come up many times, usually as a joking, "Don't you ever tell the kids about what you used to get up to?"

More recently, the statement was made more emphatic when we found a knapsack with some, umm, paraphernalia in the basement. Much more shocking than finding tall boys (of the beer variety) in the girls' bedroom, but to me, nothing to freak out about.

Before you stare with incredulity at me, I'll give you the back story.

My husband didn't have any wild child years. He had one night. One wild and crazy night where his brother-in-law got him drunk and then he passed out on the front lawn and his father turned the sprinklers on him.

Yes, just like in the movies. That's how my father-in-law rolls. Dramatic all the way.

I, however, enjoyed a winning streak of fun from about 15 until I was ready to cool it at 23. Now, let me clarify, my early wild child years had nothing on those of some of my peers. I was never thrown out of the house, I was a late bloomer when it came to sex, and I graduated from high school as an Ontario Scholar and offers from all of the university programs of my choice.

When I got to university, all hell broke loose. I came from a fairly strict upper-middle class home where I had a midnight curfew until I was 18, and a young man's foot wasn't to touch the bottom step of the staircase that led to my booo-doir.

Any fun to be had was on the down low. And as far as they were concerned, my pristine behaviour was to fall somewhere between Mother Theresa and a Rabbi. As far as I was concerned, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. As long as I kept my grades up, arrived home before the witching hour, and snuck the boys into the basement, all was fine. There were no cell phones. They had no idea what I was doing.

I left my parents' constricting rules behind when I boarded that jet plane to Vancouver and became much more publicly and intimately involved with partying, beer, and boys.

I won't go into specifics to protect my mystique. But it goes without saying that throughout high school and into my early 20s, I would have been very happy to move to Colorado and/or Washington State (and not because Christian Grey lives there). I could drink any athlete under the table and well, my Dad embarrassingly detailed my exploits with the opposite sex in his speech at my wedding so I don't need to go there.

When I met my future husband, I was rocking out at Psychedelic Mondays at RPM. The next weekend at a cottage party, he swore I wasn't the girl for him when I toddled up, cigarette in hand, swigging from a 2L bottle of homemade killer Kool-Aid. (He obviously got over his reticence because I moved in three months later.)

In other words, he knew who I was, and what I was like, when he married me. He knew that I could dance all night and sleep all day. He'd heard the stories of how I'd drink another table's pitcher of beer by stringing straws together and then how I'd get a football player to carry me all the way home to my dorm when I was too "tired" to walk. He was aware that I knew the various uses for an empty Coke can. He was fully cognizant that I spent my 22nd birthday dancing on a bar in Greece.

And I knew that he was nothing at all like me. Which was probably a good thing. To be fair, I did settle down for him. A lot. I guess I got it out of my system. (I thank him every day for insisting I quit smoking, that's for sure.)

So, back to the question of disclosure and whether or not my kids need to know what I was like.

He says that if I tell them they'll think it's ok to do the same.

I say what's wrong with that? I survived.

He says that times are different and they can get into more trouble.

I say they're good kids like I was and they know their limits. And if they don't, I need to know so I can advise them.

He says it's just wrong. Just plain wrong.

I say they're going to do it anyways, and shouldn't they be able to tell us the truth?

He says some of my parenting philosophies are questionable.

I say that he's probably right. But that they're working so far. And that I refuse to be a hypocrite.

This partnership parenting is pretty tough.

What do you say? Do I tell? Or do I pretend it never happened?



* This post was originally published on momfaze.com]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.2011269 2012-10-25T13:28:46-04:00 2012-12-25T05:12:01-05:00

Mara Shapiro http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mara-shapiro/
In a few short years, our babies will be out in the world and out of our direct control. Instinctually, we want to protect them from hurt, danger and trouble. Realistically, we cannot be there all of the time, no matter how much we want to be or how many tools there are available for us momstalkers.

What's a parent to do? Let's have a look at our choices.

Plan A: We can bubble wrap our kids, protecting them, watching their every move and making sure that they don't make mistakes or get into trouble.

The downside? When do they have the chance to explore the world and gain some street smarts? What if they want to do something and Mom says no? Will they abstain? Or do it anyway and then be forced to lie?

Plan B: We can go hands-off and let our teenagers take the wheel, allowing them to run free and make their own choices with minimal supervision.

The downside? It's hard to be a successful driver without lessons, and even the most responsible, mature teens need guidance from those who have lived longer. Teens are still children, and children need a certain amount of structure and rules to thrive or there's a possiblity that all hell can break loose. And that can be very dangerous.

Plan C: We can find balance. We can have rules that act as a framework for living, bubble wrapping when it comes to real danger and placing our proverbial hands in our pockets when it's time to spread some wings.

The downside? Not sure I can find one.

Our job as parents is to keep our teenagers safe and out of trouble while giving them enough slack on their leashes so they can learn to make good choices. It's a difficult balance. We need to give them the information that they need to assess situations without giving the solutions; we need to teach them to function within rules without creating constricting ones.

We need to communicate insteading of dictating; support instead of controlling.

OK. So how?

Well, not to state the obvious, but... DO state the obvious. Don't assume that they have thought of everything. After all, they're rife with hormones and the impulsivity of youth. Ask specific questions. Don't think they'll tell you things just because you're standing there. Teens hate being asked questions, but just posing the query gets them thinking.

Trust me. It's true.

It's better to be embarrassed now than sorry later. There is nothing at all wrong with a little frank pre-work in the form of questions and reminders.

These are some that I have used. I'm serious. All of them. I don't beat around the bush.

The Questions:

1. What are your plans? Who are you going with? How are you getting home?


2. Will there be parents at this party?


3. Is that what you want people to think of you?


4. What are your dreams?


5. Who are you talking to? How do you know him/her?


6. Are you your best self when you're around those friends?


7. What did you do last night? And after you left that place? And after you left that place?


8. Have you ever looked at porn on the Internet? Do you know the consequences of looking at porn on the Internet?


9. Have any of your friends had sex?


10. What did you do in school today?

The Obvious:

1. Don't leave your drink unattended


2. Don't talk to strangers online


3. Do not send naked pictures of yourself to anyone


4. You don't have to hook up just because everyone else is


5. Drugs and alcohol are dangerous. Be careful.


6. Act like a lady/gentleman. Treat others with respect.


7. Look both ways before you cross the street


8. What goes on the Internet stays on the Internet


9. If you have had sex (and you don't have to tell me if you have), make an appointment at the doctor. Here's the number.


10. If something bad happens to you, I can't undo it. Use caution.


11. (I don't ask questions like "Do you have a boyfriend?" unless I'm teasing. Those are a waste of a good questioning opportunity, and exist merely to satisfy my own curiosity or demonstrate my ability to make my kids turn purple with embarrassment.)

These questions and statements are designed to open up communication. Sometimes they do and we have a great conversation. Sometimes, the kid just wanders off -- hopefully thinking about what I've said. If you want to have these talks with your teen in a scenario where they can't walk away, take your kid for a drive. They seem more communicative when they're trapped in your car.

Do you have any to add? Any that you would avoid? Why?

Originally published on momfaze.com]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1988831 2012-10-19T14:53:33-04:00 2012-12-19T05:12:01-05:00

Mara Shapiro http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mara-shapiro/ I'm struggling because I want to lay blame. And I don't know where it should go.

Can I place the onus on the schools, the internet, her parents, her peers? I can't. At least not entirely.
Was Amanda cyberbullied? Somewhat. Yes, her horror was shared on the internet, but the crux is that she was preyed upon by an online predator. And that's not cyberbullying.

The kind of sexual exploitation described by Todd is part of a seedy cyber-underworld that targets young girls and it is not bullying, but a vicious crime that should be pursued even after her death according to CBC news.

Amanda Todd made a huge mistake when she was 12, egged on by her friends and a cowardly pedophile. She made a mistake even the most responsible kid could make. So, I cannot blame Amanda, mostly because she is the victim of this tragedy, but even more so because she was 12. And 12 year olds make mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes.

Can we place blame on her parents? I don't know them, I don't know what kind of guidelines she was provided with regard to online safety. I don't know if she broke their rules or whether they had none. I don't know what kind of home she had that she couldn't tell her parents what she'd done so they could call the police and put a stop to her torment. I don't know if she told them her story, and they were in denial. I wasn't there, and I refuse to judge. So, I cannot.

What about the kids? The teenagers at school-after-school who shared the photos, spread the word about her mistake, called her names, made her life unliveable Can I blame the kids? I don't know. I struggle.
Are there really any kids who are bad? Or are these good kids who do bad things? Good kids who jumped on a bandwagon because everyone else was doing it, or who were modelled this kind of behaviour by their parents, their TV shows, their online idols (like Perez Hilton). Were there kids who made the mistake of caving to peer pressure or who had their own fears for repercussions if they didn't participate? I think all of the above, so I cannot even blame the kids. This is the world that we gave them, so this is how they act.

(Social Psychologist)... Brenda Morrison described the 15-year-old's death as the consequence of a society in which bullying is considered an institutional problem, as opposed to a community one. She suggested the solution lies in reframing the issue to emphasize everyone's responsibility for the well-being of young people. ... Kids need to hear the message that (bullying) is not ok from a range of people," she wrote. "We need to create communities of care for our young people ... long before the crisis." - Montreal Gazette

Can we blame the internet? I'm conflicted. Sure, if there was no internet, then Amanda's online stalker would never have made that video of her flashing her pre-pubescent chest. He would never have been able to blackmail her or share it, and the the teenagers would never have gotten the picture. But, the internet just facilitates bad behaviour. It's a vehicle for choice. It was still a person who took that video, who shared that video, who called her names, who made her feel shame. Blaming the internet for Amanda Todd's death is like blaming a car, instead of it's driver, for a car accident.

So, who is to blame then? Who can we point a finger at for Amanda Todd's death, or really for the insidious epidemic of bullying?

Look to your left. Look to your right. I'm doing the same. Now look in the mirror. I'm doing it too, don't worry.

That person you looked at on your left? Bullying is their fault. That person you looked at on the right? Bullying is their fault. That person you just looked at in the mirror? It's their fault too.

It's all of our faults. If you live in this world we have created, then you are to blame, as am I.

We have created a culture of sarcasm, selfishness, mocking, and intolerance for difference.

We tell our kids not to get involved, don't rock the boat, watch out for YOU.

We are reactive. We watch with apathy until it's too late and then we cry out, we raise hell.

We have glorified criticism, and decried kindness. We are so concerned with self-esteem that we are not teaching character. We are so worried about lawsuits that we make authority impotent and children unafraid of repercussion.

Our society values the rights of the individual over the happiness of others.

How can we blame the epidemic of bullying on parents, schools, police, or even the internet?

We have all contributed to the society in which we live. We have all raised a generation of bystanders and bullies. If not by doing, then by acquiescence.

If our children don't have it in them to stand up for what's right, to exhibit kindness or empathy, we are the ones to blame. Plain and simple.

The big question is, what are we going to do about it?

This post orginally appeared on momfaze.com]]>