What I didn’t expect was the reaction that I got from the mother of the new child in my class. “You’re not going to let them eat donuts, are you?!?!?” as though I’d suggested arsenic and elderberry wine.  I have no doubt that this Mom meant well.  As did one of the mothers at the karate school who told me quite pointedly that her children did not eat processed sugar.  EVER.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe in healthy eating. And I think a mother has the right to limit what her child eats. But I get my dander up when a person infers that I am somehow lacking as a mother because I allow my child to eat sugar.  I’m a firm believer in that fact that the quickest way to get your child to develop a bad habit is to forbid him to do so.  That said, wouldn’t it be more productive to teach our children balance than to assign labels of “good” and “bad” to certain foods?

Expanding on a concept that my son’s karate teacher introduced to him a few years back, we talk about food items as being in one of three classes: green, yellow, or red light.

Green light foods are those foods that have significant benefits to a growing body.  They generally include proteins (either animal or plant-based); most fruits and vegetables.  Their effects on the body are long-lasting. They’re the building blocks for bones, muscles, healthy tissue.  We discuss that these are the foods that should make up the majority of our diets.

Yellow light foods may provide boosts to energy levels, but aren’t really building blocks. The effects of these foods can be significant, but they don’t have the lasting effects that green light foods do.  They should be eaten in moderation.  They include starches: breads, pasta, chips.

Red light foods can give you energy, especially in the short term (ever heard of a sugar rush?), but the effects don’t last, and they don’t provide lasting benefits to the growing body.  They’re fine, sometimes, and in moderation, but should be a small part of real eating.

If most of what a child eats is in the categories of green and yellow light foods, then what’s the harm of the occasional red light food?  I don’t see it.  I think it’s way more important that my child learn to eat a balanced diet than that he learns that there are “forbidden” foods. If he has a balanced palate, then the occasional sugary treat isn’t going to hurt him.

But I’m frustrated at the same time. I’m frustrated that they had to figure out who they could call that would be happy for them. I’m frustrated that they have to settle for registering as domestic partners instead of celebrating their silver wedding anniversary. I’m frustrated that they qualify for a mere fraction of the benefits that a married couple get simply by getting married.  I’m frustrated with the whole business. 

It seems that the majority of people who object to same-sex marriage do so on religious principles.  With all the controversy these days about the separation of church and state, maybe we need to rethink this. It’s time we separated civil marriage from the religious ceremony thereof.  It’s not a novel idea, it’s been done all over the world for years.

If the benefits of marriage are bestowed as the result of a civil contract, then they should be available to all persons who enter into that contract, regardless of whether or not they engage in a religious ceremony.  If they are bestowed by virtue of the religious ceremony, then those benefits should be denied those who do not have that ceremony.  If we are to separate church and state, then we should separate the civil from the religious.

Marriage in the United States is a civil contract.  Consider — you register at the county clerk’s office to get a marriage license.  The officiant of the ceremony must be a granted the power to perform marriages by the state. The marriage is registered as an official state record, and the benefits thereof are bestowed by the state and federal governments.  The government has allowed church officials to become surrogate representatives of the state in order to officiate at these ceremonies. So why are we allowing the religious leaders to set the policy for who is allowed to enter into this civil contract?

Don’t get me wrong. I think you have the right to your beliefs and I will indeed fight to defend them. This nation was founded in large part so that you have the right and the privilege to pursue your religious freedoms.  If you choose to make your wedding a religious affair, that is wonderful. But let’s not limit civil rights to those of any particular religious belief.  It’s not fair, it’s not right, and it’s simply not American. 

So to my sister and her wonderful partner: Congratulations, and happy anniversary. I wish you continued love and happiness as you continue your lives together.  I wish I could give you more.

Summer. Swim team.  Joe comes home from the big mid-summer meet with a second place ribbon.  Shows his folks.  Their response?  “What? Were there only two swimmers?” 

For all that we espouse the concept of the phrase “It’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game,” we all too often don’t really teach it to our kids. As parents, we are our children’s first and best teachers. And like it or not, they watch every move we make.  And though we tell them that winning’s not the most important thing, we don’t believe it. And so they don’t believe it either.

In my arrogance, I thought I was above all that.  I preached with the best of them that it doesn’t matter if you win or not, that making the effort is what counts. And then I got called on it.  By me.

My son has been taking karate for almost four years now, and is just past halfway to his junior black belt.  He’s found a new favorite event in tournament play: grappling.  I’m okay with that. I don’t let him do open or point sparring, as I very selfishly refuse to watch him get hit in the face or the gut. But grappling, aka wrestling, I can handle.  I was kind of liking the idea that my little man might take up wrestling as his high school sport.  That is, until another mother at the dojo, whose son grapples against my son regularly, stated that her son had decided to give up his other extracurricular activities to concentrate exclusively on grappling,with the intention to join the wrestling team in high school. Immediately, I felt a letdown.  Aw man! If he was wrestling, then my boy wouldn’t be the best on the team. Maybe no point in trying. 

Oh. My. Where did that come from? I had just that week spoken to the kids in my son’s summer camp program about how each of them was a winner in the talent show, simply because they had the nerve to be IN the talent show. I’d made the same comment to the kids at the last karate competition.  And I do believe that.  I’m thinking it’s  time that I change my own attitude.  Quit giving lip service to an ideal, and start living it instead.  Let my son see that it’s not just a nice concept, that it’s a real truth.

So I’m making a pledge.  Rather than praise results, which may or may not be earned, I promise to praise the effort that goes into getting the result.  Rather than reward the first or second place finish, I promise to exclaim over the attempt that was made to improve.  Whether it worked or not.  See, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to play any game at all if you’re only in it to win.  If you don’t enjoy the attempt, then you spend a lot of time unhappy.  Just not a good trade.

I always thought I’d be a mom when I grew up. But when I turned 30, then 35, with neither husband nor child, I began to rethink. 

I met David through a computerized “introduction” service. They don’t call themselves a dating service, as they only introduce you to people with whom you might be compatible. Whether you date a person to whom you’ve been introduced is entirely up to you.  All they asked was that after you met, or decided not to meet, this person, you return the information paper and tell them in what ways you were and were not compatible.  By process of elimination, the theory went, you would have more in common with the tenth person you met than with the first.  After six LONG years in the program, I decided that whoever my “matchmaker” was did not have any idea of who I was or with whom I might be compatible.  So I took matters into my own hands.

I called the service and made an appointment to talk with “Kimmie.”  I figured that the better she knew me, the more likely she was to figure out what I was after.  Kimmie explained to me I had been the first match for several newer clients, as I was outgoing and able to put my dates at ease.  Wait a minute. I’m paying to make YOUR job easier? Didn’t quite seem fair to me.

 I told Kimmie that I had come to a place in my life where I didn’t need to have a partner. I had a job I enjoyed, I made enough money to have everything I needed and some of what I wanted (explaining, of course, that I believe you shouldn’t have everything you want.)  I had passions (music and theater), I had good friends, nieces and nephews that thought I hung the moon for them. I was content.  I felt no overwhelming need to have someone to make me complete.  I was okay on my own, but I wouldn’t mind spending time with a person of like interests.    Immediately, Kimmie told me about a man who had been in to speak with her within the last week or so, saying many of the same things.  She’d wait, she said, to introduce us for a while since he was new to the program. (Missing the point completely.)

About three months later, I received the introduction letter for David.  The Tuesday night we first spoke we spent close to three hours on the phone, and made a date for Thursday night.  (Another story completely.)  I was certain early in the relationship that it wouldn’t never work out, but we married ten and a half months after that phone call.

We’ve been married for twelve years now. I got pregnant at the age of 43 (that was a shocker!) and now have a six year old son getting ready to start first grade.  David’s still my best friend.  We both made the commitment that we were only doing this once.  Divorce is not, and was never, an option.  There are days I would sell him on ebay with no reserve, as I am sure he would me.  But we’re spouses, lovers, and best friends.  I figure that’s as good as it gets.

Now the two of us are three. And our six year old, instead of being finicky, eats almost everything and will try absolutely anything. How did this happen?  Pure dumb luck?  Nope. We set out to have our child be an adventuresome eater.  I started planning when I was pregnant.  I came up with a set of rules to live by.  No, not for him, for us. And they don’t involve cutting out sugar or eating only raw foods. They’re very simple really.

Rule #1: Present food without prejudice. Don’t share your tastes.  If you detest beef stew, and I do, don’t let him know.  Let him make his own decisions about what tastes good and what doesn’t.

Rule #2: Never, never, never use the phrase “You won’t like it.”  I caught myself starting to say that one day when my son was about two, and had to swallow my tongue to keep myself from finishing it.  To state to your child that he “won’t like it” is to both prejudice him against the new food, and to deny him the right to make his own decisions. Not fair, in either case.

Rule #3: Make it safe for your child to try new tastes.  She won’t like everything to which she is introduced, but that’s not the point, is it? Make sure that she knows that it’s okay not to like what she tries, but that it is important that she tries it.

Rule #4: Tastes change.  Teach your child that the new food he doesn’t like today may become his favorite another day.

Rule #5: Don’t be hard on yourself. Understand that as a picky eater yourself, you’re going to end up being a bit of a hypocrite. We as adults have had these eating habits for a very long time, and they are well ingrained.

The rules have worked for us, at least so far.  Our son likes to tell his friends, when they are confronted with a new taste, that “it’s okay not to like something, but it’s not okay not to try it.”  Does this mean he eats everything? Certainly not. Like most first graders, he goes through periods when the only food he’ll eat is Rice Krispies, and he has days when I wonder if he’ll get more in him than straight sugar.  But like all parents, we’re doing the best we can, and so far, I’m pleased with the progress we’ve made.

Unfortunately, kids like mine somehow seem to be in the minority. It distresses me to hear children show disrespect to their parents. It distresses me more, however, to hear those same parents yell at their children, and then bemoan the loss of respect. “These kids,” they say, “don’t have any respect.”

Why don’t they? Aren’t they just emulating what they’ve seen? Be honest with yourself. Are you being respectful? Always? Are you respectful to your kids?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I hear you say. “I don’t have to respect my kids, I’m the parent/teacher/coach” and “Respect has to be earned.” I’ll counter with the idea that you do not command respect unless you are willing to be respectful in kind.

I recently attended a karate competition at which some of the advanced Black Belt instructors complained that they were not given the respect merited their rank. Having earned their status, they felt deserving of respect from those of lower rank. And they were right, rank should be respected. However, should it not be the traits of that high rank that are due the respect, and not the attainment itself? Being set up as an authority figure, as ranking martial artists are, means setting an example of strength, control, patience, and yes, respect. It is that example that merits respect, not the man wearing the belt. Without showcasing those qualities within himself, the master shows only that he is capable of those qualities, not that he practices them. And that opens the door to disrespect.

For my part, I much prefer to believe that, contrary to the popular saying, respect should not have to be earned.  Respect should be the default. It’s not been an easy concept for me, but I have finally come to believe that every person is worthy of my respect unless and until he or she has earned my disrespect.

“I respect you because you ARE, and because you have done nothing to earn my disrespect.”

Recently, however, a friend has changed the way I think about that.  Hannah lost both her parents at an early age; shortly thereafter, the house in which she had grown up burned down. A few months ago, Hannah was excited to tell me that she had gotten prints of some negatives that had been found after the fire.  Anxious to “introduce” me to her parents, she eagerly went through the prints looking for pictures from her childhood. She found several of her father; yet, in 200 some odd prints, found only one of her mother.  Her mother, she explained, hated having her picture taken, and in this one had been caught unawares. 

Watching my friend stare at that picture, the only one she had of a woman who she loved and missed so much, gave me a revelation. I thought about the people who loved me: the people who might miss me when I’m gone. Suddenly I knew that getting my picture taken wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about my insecurities, my self-image, my ego.  Getting my picture taken was about giving someone the opportunity to remember. To remember an event we shared, to remember our friendship, to remember me.

The very next weekend I was put to the test. My step-daughter came for a visit and we decided to get family pictures taken. Rather than trying to hide myself behind the children, I decided for once to enjoy the session.  You know what? I actually enjoyed myself.  These are some of the best pictures we’ve ever had.  And yeah, I still don’t like what I look like, but I look like me.  And that’s enough.

It seems that in the average life span of 77 years, a woman ages from newborn to age 77 .  However, in those same 77 years, a man ages from newborn to age 12. My huband, at this point, is about 8 1/2.

Explains a lot, doesn’t it? Funny thing is, almost to a one, the women to whom I explain this agree. Amazingly, so do the men.