Category: Parenting

Moms get blamed for everything. Everything their kids do, say, or think. The belief that moms are responsible for every nuance of their children’s behavior is so deeply engrained in our lifestyle that it’s hard not to notice without doing two minutes of Internet research or thinking critically for an

“I am despondent. My daughter did not graduate at the top of her medical school class. She won’t get a good residency placement. It’s the end of the world as we know it, the sky is falling, where did I go wrong?” Or… “I am pleased and proud. My daughter

Spending some time on one of my favorite college campuses recently, I could not help but notice a five-dollar bill on top of the book return box outside the college library. I watched as a sporadic procession of students glanced at Lincoln’s paper portrait on their way into the building.

How frequently do you enjoy being told that you’re wrong? By whom? Under what circumstances? You need to change; you are not okay as you are; you’re ugly and your mother dresses you funny. Nobody wants to hear that. I bet you’re pretty happy with your religious beliefs, for example.

 Needing to be up at oh dark hundred the next morning, I improvidently began Ira Levin’s The Boys from Brazil, a mesmerizing thriller involving “creating” a certain type of child by mirroring his environmental and genetic makeup. No spoilers–the plot twists and turns like a racetrack–just this advice: if you’re

What I know about finances can be written on the back of a postage stamp with a shaving brush. I know nothing about stocks, bonds, hedge funds, and derivatives—whatever those are. Indeed, I have the Midas Touch when it comes to speculating: everything I invest in turns into a muffler.

“Maggie,” a middle school child, has repeatedly forgotten to bring a pencil to math class. After the fifth infraction, Maggie’s teacher has given her a “lunchroom detention“ whereby Maggie must sit alone to eat and is not allowed to interact with any of her classmates. Which of the three parenting

Turns out one of my Running Buddies has an actual “job“ of some kind that involves her doing “work”. Apparently, part of her grown-up life entails given lectures about the widgets—or possibly grommets—produced by her company.  We’ve only been sweating together in the dark for the past 20 years so

No matter how thin you make the pancakes, they always have two sides. With the possible exception of family game night–always fun–pretty much every other parent-child interaction is double edged. What about encouragement?  Could there be a dark side to being a supportive parent? Consider the following seemingly uplifting statement