<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<rss version="2.0"
  xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"
  xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/"
  xmlns:admin="http://webns.net/mvcb/"
  xmlns:rdf="http://www.w3.org/1999/02/22-rdf-syntax-ns#">












































<channel>
<title>Adventures in Motherhood</title>
<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</link>
<description>Five Miami Valley moms dish about the wonderful, often humorous and always challenging role of being a mother including: families, kids, babies, pregnancy and things to do with kids in the Dayton and Springfield area.

Lucy Baker (a copy editor at the Dayton Daily News) is a mom of three.

Michelle Everhart-Sullivan (editor of the CoxOhio community web sites) is a mom of one girl.

Michelle Fong is a mom of two.

Darci Jordan (a columnist for the Dayton Daily News and Springfield News-Sun) is the mom of two boys with a girl on the way

Jill Kelley (columnist and reporter for the Dayton Daily News) is a mom of two boys.</description>
<dc:language>en-us</dc:language>
<dc:creator>motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com</dc:creator>
<dc:date>2010-02-09T08:23:14-05:00</dc:date>
<admin:generatorAgent rdf:resource="http://www.movabletype.org/?v=3.34" />
<sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod>
<sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency>
<sy:updateBase>2000-01-01T12:00+00:00</sy:updateBase>

<item>
<title>How to play hookie from school ... in Kindergarten</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/02/09/how_to_play_hoo.html</link>
<description>I had another &amp;#8220;helicopter mom&amp;#8221; moment. This one had nothing to do with bullies, but I think the end result - unfortunately - was my son learning to play hookie from school. It all began on a wintery morning &amp;#133;...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
I had another &amp;#8220;helicopter mom&amp;#8221; moment.
This one had nothing to do with bullies, but I think the end result - unfortunately - was my son learning to play hookie from school.

It all began on a wintery morning &amp;#133;
My husband was taking Noah out to meet the bus when he realized it was already waiting at the end of the driveway.
He took Noah&amp;#8217;s hand and quickly headed down the driveway when - splat! - they both hit a patch of black ice and fell smack on their backsides.

My husband hobbled in the door, soaked from the fall.
&amp;#8220;Noah hit his head,&amp;#8221; he informed me.

&amp;#8220;How hard?&amp;#8221; I asked.

He wasn&amp;#8217;t sure since he&amp;#8217;d wiped out, too, but Noah had shed a few tears. 
Still though, my little man got on the bus.

My engine started humming &amp;#133; &amp;#8220;What if he has a concussion?&amp;#8221;

My chopper blades began whirling, I lifted off the helipad and headed for the phone.

&amp;#8220;Noah fell on the driveway. He hit his head and we aren&amp;#8217;t sure he&amp;#8217;s ok,&amp;#8221; I told Sue in the school office.

She made sure Noah&amp;#8217;s teacher and the school nurse both knew what had happened - just incase.

An hour later the phone rang.
It was the school nurse.

&amp;#8220;Noah&amp;#8217;s in the clinic. He says he has a headache and feels dizzy.&amp;#8221;

Initially, I thought, &amp;#8220;Oh-no!&amp;#8221;

Then I remembered that my son has a tendency to be a bit &amp;#133; well, dramatic.

Not to mention, if I recall correctly, getting sent to the clinic for an injury is &amp;#8220;cool&amp;#8221; when you&amp;#8217;re six.

Of course, the school did the responsible thing - he may very well have been hurt.
And I, after all, had called and asked them to please keep an eye on him.

My husband went to pick him up.

Upon his return home, Noah, promptly dumped his back pack and made way to the couch - not to rest - but to play a video game.

&amp;#8220;Uhm, excuse me, I thought you had a headache?&amp;#8221; I said.

&amp;#8220;I do,&amp;#8221; he said pointing to his forehead (mind you, he fell backwards). &amp;#8220;But, not all the time.&amp;#8221;

I had to laugh.

I&amp;#8217;d been duped into a long weekend - by a child who eagerly goes to school - and it was most likely my own doing.

Email this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com.

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16607803@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Motherhood Column</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-02-09T08:23:14-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>What is YOUR snow dance?</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/02/04/what_is_your_sn.html</link>
<description>When you are just inches from a snow day, you may find yourself doing some pretty strange things. About 6 inches of snow is expected to fall in the Dayton area between Friday and Saturday, Feb. 5-6, but for kids...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
When you are just inches from a snow day, you may find yourself doing some pretty strange things.

About 6 inches of snow is expected to fall in the Dayton area between Friday and Saturday, Feb. 5-6, but for kids (and maybe a few teachers) the snow can&amp;#8217;t come soon enough.

I just got off the phone with my 8-year-old son and one of the first things he said was, &amp;#8220;We have to remember to do the snow dance tonight!&amp;#8221;

And that made me wonder how many others out there will be doing the same, and what everybody else&amp;#8217;s snow-inducing rituals entailed.

My sons have assembled the following process over the last couple years, having been given tips from other students and teachers:

&amp;#8212; Wear pajamas backwards.

&amp;#8212; Put ice cubes in the toilet and flush them down.

&amp;#8212; Put a spoon under the pillow.

&amp;#8212; Do a silly dance. (Some say to dance in a circle 10 times.)

I would say it has a success rate of about 30 percent, although the kids swear it is closer to 80 percent.

It should be noted, however, that it did work last month.

What about you? What do your kids do for a snow dance?

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16572003@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Helpful tips</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-02-04T14:59:33-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>jikelley@coxohio.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>Success in sports not just about X&apos;s and O&apos;s</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/02/04/success_in_spor.html</link>
<description>This basketball season has been a challenging one for my son and me. My son is 10 and in his first year with this select league, and I have been helping coach. Although the experience has had many bright spots,...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
This basketball season has been a challenging one for my son and me.

My son is 10 and in his first year with this select league, and I have been helping coach.

Although the experience has had many bright spots, the level of competition and how to handle it at this age has been an education &amp;#8212; for us both.

The funny thing is, both he and I are extremely familiar with the often combative world of youth sports. He and his brother have played on multiple teams and have both been in select soccer for years.

But this basketball season has proved to be much more intense; both in time spent and emotions involved.

Basketball has long been the favorite sport of my son and me, and one at which we both excelled.

This season, the fifth-grader, a veteran of the rec center league, begged to be a part of the select program. As a result, he was now just one of many talented players, rather than being among a top few.

From a coaching perspective, it was a windfall: the head coach and I could run plays, teach the kids moves, and actually have them retain and execute what they were taught.

As I told friends at the beginning of the season, &amp;#8220;It&amp;#8217;s like real basketball!&amp;#8221;

For the kids on the team, it meant more to learn, more aspects of the game to address and, most significantly, more pressure to succeed.

To this last aspect, some kids responded well and some did not. My son was among those who initially struggled.

Instead of fueling the added pressure into game-time intensity, he went the other way. And his self-doubt began limiting not only his success, but his enjoyment of the sport. 

I could see this was happening, and knew what he needed to do to succeed. In my mind it was easy; just go all-out, be more aggressive and get fired up.

But I couldn&amp;#8217;t convey that to my son in a way that was useful to him.

At first I told him: &amp;#8220;You just need to try harder.&amp;#8221;

But he would tell me: &amp;#8220;I am trying hard!&amp;#8221;

I honestly believed him. It also reminded me that I  didn&amp;#8217;t even start playing basketball until I was 13, and likely didn&amp;#8217;t get to any great level of intensity until I was 17 or 18. He is still just 10.

So then I tried not saying anything to him about basketball when we weren&amp;#8217;t on the court.

That made him think I was mad at him.

It was around then that I also noticed that if he scored a basket, it would spark his intensity. 

So I told him to find a way to score early, knowing that would get him going. 

I also started telling him just to have fun and not worry so much.

The problem with that tack was he could tell that it was just words. That even though I said that, there still was the same resounding sentiment to do well or get pulled from the game.

Since then, I have put my full support behind the &amp;#8220;have fun&amp;#8221; approach, although I always include &amp;#8220;and work hard.&amp;#8221; 

I think he is starting to believe it &amp;#8212; as are other members of the team.

At halftime of our game the other night, we were behind by about 16 points, and I told the kids on the bench: &amp;#8220;You know what, let&amp;#8217;s just have fun out there. Play hard, but have a really good time!&amp;#8221;

One of the boys smiled and said, &amp;#8220;It couldn&amp;#8217;t hurt.&amp;#8221; 

Another one added, &amp;#8220;Yeah, we could still learn some things.&amp;#8221; 

That made me smile as well. And, the team did much better in the second half.

At any rate, I think my son and I have both learned a lot this season &amp;#8212; about basketball and ourselves.

Now I think we are both looking forward to more days of working hard, having fun and learning the true meaning of success.

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16561703@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Mother&apos;s Daze columns</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-02-04T06:49:38-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>jikelley@coxohio.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>&quot;Safe&quot; car is taunting this mother</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/02/02/safe_car_is_tau.html</link>
<description>Many items are designed to keep our kids safe at home: gates, toilet seat locks, cabinet locks, doorknob deterrents, cushy bumpers &amp;#133; I could go on. But, as a parent, I am also concerned about the safety of my car....</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
Many items are designed to keep our kids safe at home: gates, toilet seat locks, cabinet locks, doorknob deterrents, cushy bumpers &amp;#133; I could go on.

But, as a parent, I am also concerned about the safety of my car.
After all, I&amp;#8217;m hauling my most precious cargo.

However, call me paranoid, but I think my &amp;#8220;safe&amp;#8221; car has been taunting me.

We have a pretty long driveway. In inclement weather (or when we&amp;#8217;re being lazy) I drive the boys to or from the bus.

We also have an infant who is forced to make this daily trek in her car seat. 
While waiting for the bus one afternoon, said infant began wailing, so I hopped into the back seat to console her. Naturally, the bus turned the corner at about that moment.

I attempted to open the back door of the car to go greet my sons.
My attempt became frustrated tugging at the door handle.

I couldn&amp;#8217;t get out.
The car was unlocked, but I was stuck. 

I pondered my dilemma and realized the child safety locks were on - so the boys won&amp;#8217;t jump out of the car, of course.

I not-so-gracefully climbed into the front seat and scrambled out the door.

But the car wasn&amp;#8217;t done with me yet, it sat in the garage &amp;#133; plotting.

This particular morning, our driveway was a sheet of ice, so we hopped into the mom-wagon to go meet the bus.

I turned the key, the dashboard lit up, the radio came on and then, nothing.
I turned it again. Still nothing.

The bus was in the cul-de-sac, better hurry.

I began jiggling the key in the ignition, but it still wouldn&amp;#8217;t turn. I &amp;#8220;jiggled&amp;#8221; it a little harder and the break-away key snapped off in my hand.

Noah stared wide-eyed as if waiting for me to explode into a tantrum. 
&amp;#8220;Get out!&amp;#8221; I yelled. &amp;#8220;Let&amp;#8217;s go!&amp;#8221; 

We began running through the frozen grass to the bus now waiting for us.

My mind reeled with what could possibly be wrong with my car.

After a call to the dealership and arranging for a tow, my husband suggested I check a few things, like if the car was in &amp;#8220;park.&amp;#8221;

Duh. 

I must have bumped the shifter. Hence, the car&amp;#8217;s safety feature was engaged. It won&amp;#8217;t start nor will the key release if it is in gear.

I think the break-away key was designed specifically for frenzied mothers. Thankfully, it clicks back together.

I&amp;#8217;m a little anxious about the next &amp;#8220;safety demonstration&amp;#8221; the car has in store for us. 

Better get busy reading the owner&amp;#8217;s manual.

Email this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com.

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16544903@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Motherhood Column</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-02-02T14:51:50-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>Texting can divide generations</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/01/28/texting_can_div.html</link>
<description>I am among the world&amp;#8217;s worst texters. It literally takes me 15 minutes to respond to a text with two sentences (responding is all I do, by the way). It takes me even longer if I try to insert a...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
I am among the world&amp;#8217;s worst texters. It literally takes me 15 minutes to respond to a text with two sentences (responding is all I do, by the way). It takes me even longer if I try to insert a smiley-face.

I only communicate with two people via text. Although they are both around my age, they have one big advantage over me: They are both mothers of teenagers.

It has become common knowledge that, for 21st-century parents, there is a required technology upgrade as your kids get older.

However, unlike my kids, I am in no hurry to improve my software.

It also is well-known that texting (unlike Trix) is not just for kids. I have friends who are in their late 20s, and many of them prefer texting to other modes of communication.

These 20-somethings and even my eldest son (just barely) are reportedly members of Generation Y, among the most text- and tech-savvy people on the planet. 

Generation Y comprises those born between 1980 and 2000, according to my handy-dandy, summation-strong copy of &amp;#8220;The World Almanac for Kids 2010.&amp;#8221;

The almanac describes Gen Y as &amp;#8220;the first generation to grow up fluent in &amp;#8212; and some say too reliant on &amp;#8212; digital technology.&amp;#8221;

This group&amp;#8217;s unlimited texting and ubiquitous cell phone use are just functions of that fluency. They grew up with that technology, and they are a natural fit.

That is not always the case for Generation X&amp;#8217;ers.

Those of us born between 1965 and 1979 can still clearly remember life before texting, and it is a nice memory. For us, typing out our conversations is often seen as unnecessarily cumbersome compared to just speaking into a receiver.

It is just a sign of our times.

It&amp;#8217;s kind of like how former president Harry S. Truman never liked using telephones. Reportedly having grown up without one, he preferred to communicate primarily by writing letters &amp;#8212; in longhand.

Also noteworthy in the almanac&amp;#8217;s description of Gen X is that it is the latest generation not to be defined by its relationship to technology.

The almanac characterizes those of us who are now ages 31 to 44 as well-educated, independent-minded and &amp;#8220;obsessed with pop culture.&amp;#8221;

Unlike more recent generations, we weren&amp;#8217;t exposed to the innumerable options and specialized knowledge of the truly World Wide Web.

Instead, most of us spent our time watching Wile E. Coyote get blown up on Saturday mornings, wearing Underoos under our Geranimals, and deciding whether we were more like Jan or Marcia.

Pop culture was our commonality, just as technology is for teenagers today.

Before us, there were the almanac-defined &amp;#8220;idealistic and free-spirited&amp;#8221; Baby Boomers. That group made enormous strides in civil rights, more freely got divorced and hoped they died before they got old.

When I mentioned this fact to my 8-year-old, a member of Generation Z or the Internet Generation, he said, &amp;#8220;That&amp;#8217;s crazy. I hope I get old before I die!&amp;#8221;

It will be interesting to see what defines that group, born in 2001 and after &amp;#8212; although it most certainly will involve technology.

They are &amp;#8220;the first to grow up with a lifelong use of communications technology such as Internet, cell phones and digital cameras,&amp;#8221; and likely will develop and utilize things beyond our imaginations today.

Maybe by the time they come out with those, I will be able to text like the wind.

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16495303@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Mother&apos;s Daze columns</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-01-28T08:39:35-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>jikelley@coxohio.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>&quot;Working mom&quot; has change of heart, job</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/01/26/working_mom_has.html</link>
<description>Just more than a year ago, my husband and I learned our family would be expanding to a grand total of five. We took into serious consideration how our lives would change, and how our two sons would be affected...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
<![CDATA[Just more than a year ago, my husband and I learned our family would be expanding to a grand total of five.

We took into serious consideration how our lives would change, and how our two sons would be affected by this new family addition.

We came to the conclusion that it would be best for baby, and the boys, if Mommy stayed home for a while - and by a &#8220;while,&#8221; I don&#8217;t mean an extended maternity leave.

My new full-time office is my home.

Likewise, my new office wardrobe consists of fashionable knit pants and shirts with matching fuzzy slippers.

I always wanted a family, but never saw myself as a stay-at-home-mom. My priorities shifted with the birth of each child.

Being a mom isn&#8217;t exactly a new job for me, but my promotion to a mom of three is a challenging position.

There were a lot of things to adjust to. A new baby and a new routine were only the beginning.
It amazes me though just how much I was missing out on.

When my sons were born, I went back to work after a few weeks. Time flew by and they grew so quickly.
Some of Noah&#8217;s &#8220;firsts&#8221; were at the babysitter&#8217;s house.

With my daughter though, while time is hardly standing still, it seems like she has been here forever. 
I saw her first smile and remember (unfortunately) when she had her first fever.

The downfall? She&#8217;s addicted to Mommy. I have learned to do some amazing things (like make a pb&amp;j sandwich) using just one hand and balancing a 16 lb. baby on my hip.

Try as he might, my husband just can&#8217;t make Baby happy for long. She&#8217;s a momma&#8217;s girl, but I am sure that will quickly change.

Small things have more meaning now, too. The highlight of my week is when I have to leave the house to buy diapers.

&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you buy two packages?&#8221; my husband asks me.

&#8220;Because then I won&#8217;t have a reason to go anywhere next week!&#8221;

OK, that&#8217;s a lie, but winter makes me lazy. Right now diaper-errands motivate me.

I have the best of both worlds - mothering and recording it weekly - and am truly blessed.

Maybe one day I&#8217;ll return to the daily grind I prepared for in college, but for now being there when Nicholas reaches daily milestones like dressing himself, albeit sometimes like a clown, it is worth the wait.

Email this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com.
]]>
</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16466903@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Motherhood Column</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-01-26T08:19:44-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>Restaurant Week = Date Night, Part Deux</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/01/22/restaurant_week_1.html</link>
<description>Ahhhhh &amp;#8230; just thinking about Date Night lets a cool, refreshing wave of seratonin wash over my stressed-out mommy brain. But with our tight budget, dining out is definitely a rarity. In fact, we visit restaurants no more than twice...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
Ahhhhh &amp;#8230; just thinking about Date Night lets a cool, refreshing wave of seratonin wash over my stressed-out mommy brain.

But with our tight budget, dining out is definitely a rarity. In fact, we visit restaurants no more than twice a month, if that. (cue the violins) 

Flat-broke foodies, rejoice! The twice-a-year Restaurant Week is on the horizon, and it&amp;#8217;s the perfect opportunity for a relatively inexpensive Date Night. 

Many of the Miami Valley&amp;#8217;s best restaurants offer a three-course meal for just $20.10. Even better: $1 from each meal goes to charity, with more than $57,000 being raised to date, according to the Miami Valley Restaurant Association&amp;#8217;sWeb site.

Through past RW&amp;#8217;s, we&amp;#8217;ve enjoyed lovely meals at Meadowlark, Rue Dumaine, Coco&amp;#8217;s Bistro, Sweeney&amp;#8217;s Seafood, Jay&amp;#8217;s and El Meson.

Click here to see tantalizing menus from participating restaurants, and visit Mark Fisher&amp;#8217;s Taste blog to see what local diners think or post your own reviews.     

But make your reservations now: Restaurant Week specials run Jan. 24-29. 

If you want to give a subtle hint to your significant other, send a link to this blog with the subject line: TAKE ME OUT TO DINNER! (it has worked for me)

And if you miss RW this time, be sure to watch DaytonDailyNews.com&amp;#8217;s restaurant guide for updates on the summer version of the event. Bon appetite!

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16432603@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Great deals</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-01-22T01:50:08-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>lbaker@coxohio.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>3rd-grader thinks he knows best</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/01/21/3rdgrader_think.html</link>
<description>There is a time in every kid&amp;#8217;s life when the advice of his or her parent starts being processed before it is digested. All the unquestioned directives of early childhood die off, and kids start to analyze whether these pearls...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
There is a time in every kid&amp;#8217;s life when the advice of his or her parent starts being processed before it is digested.

All the unquestioned directives of early childhood die off, and kids start to analyze whether these pearls of wisdom they are hearing actually apply to them.

In the abstract, it is a natural part of growing up; in reality, it can be a pain in the rear.

I expected this to happen with my sons &amp;#8230; just not quite so soon.

Recently, after exhausting all other opinions present, my 8-year-old called me at work because he was having trouble with a math problem.

He told me the problem and I realized it exceeded the math-in-my-head limit (which is somewhere around cross multiplication) and that it involved some kind of chart, so I said I would help him when I got home. 

&amp;#8220;In the meantime,&amp;#8221; I said, &amp;#8220;just leave space for that problem and move on to the next one.&amp;#8221;

By the way, if you think this last sentence goes without saying, your kids are much more advanced than mine.

They have both wasted hours delaying entire homework papers due to one early hurdle.

It appears, however, that the third-grader had grown accustomed to those long nights, because he clearly did not want to move on.

&amp;#8220;But I don&amp;#8217;t know how much space to leave,&amp;#8221; he said, allowing the first strains of whine to trickle in.

&amp;#8220;Just leave an average amount. Look at the other problems and the examples in the book and judge that way,&amp;#8221; I told him. 

&amp;#8220;Besides, you&amp;#8217;re working in pencil, right?&amp;#8221;

&amp;#8220;Yes.&amp;#8221;

&amp;#8220;Good; then don&amp;#8217;t worry. We can fix anything!&amp;#8221;

At this point, I just heard some flustered scoffing on the line followed by, &amp;#8220;What about air pollution!?&amp;#8221;

&amp;#8220;Huh?&amp;#8221; I asked, wondering if I missed a step.

&amp;#8220;You can&amp;#8217;t fix air pollution!&amp;#8221;

It would have been funny if he was kidding, but in his literal third-grade noggin he was actually mounting a defense. (This may be one of the reasons 8-year-olds sometimes have trouble challenging their parents &amp;#8212; underdeveloped debate skills.)

Anyway, before we hung up I convinced him to just leave space, move on and finish his paper.

At least I thought I did.

When I got home later that afternoon, I asked him if the other problems went OK.

&amp;#8220;Well &amp;#8230;&amp;#8221; he started, and then his eyes slowly settled on mine.

&amp;#8220;You didn&amp;#8217;t move on?&amp;#8221; I said, loudly. &amp;#8220;After I specifically told you to leave space and finish your paper?&amp;#8221;

&amp;#8220;I just didn&amp;#8217;t think that was the best thing to do,&amp;#8221; he said quietly.  

That was when it was clear that he had heard me, disagreed and decided to go with what he thought was best. 

And it reminded me of the times when I had been talking to him and could see behind his eyes, as only a parent can, that he was thinking: &amp;#8220;I don&amp;#8217;t think that&amp;#8217;s right,&amp;#8221; but he had still done what I told him to do.

Those were the good old days.

As for the current conversation, I told him that I will be more clear in the future when I am giving an opinion and when I am telling him what he needs to do.

&amp;#8220;If I am not sure, I will tell you,&amp;#8221; I said. &amp;#8220;Otherwise, I am your mother and you need to listen to me.&amp;#8221;

But, even as I said that, I knew that my unquestioned reign was over.

He is thinking more for himself, and actually following his own direction.

I know that will serve him well in the future.

As for the present, though, I hope he listens to his mother for a little while longer.

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16412903@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Mother&apos;s Daze columns</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-01-21T06:30:49-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>jikelley@coxohio.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>Lesson in giving turns &quot;bratty&quot;</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/01/19/lesson_in_givin.html</link>
<description>I fear I&amp;#8217;m raising brats. Not really, but we had a moment of &amp;#8220;brattiness&amp;#8221; following the tragic earthquake in Haiti. I am an evening news watcher. If disturbing images come on I censor them, but I don&amp;#8217;t lie to my...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
I fear I&amp;#8217;m raising brats.

Not really, but we had a moment of &amp;#8220;brattiness&amp;#8221; following the tragic earthquake in Haiti.

I am an evening news watcher. If disturbing images come on I censor them, but I don&amp;#8217;t lie to my kids about what is happening in the world as it is reality.
If we see troops marching through Iraq, I point out they are protecting our country.
A feel-good feature story comes on and we talk about what is happening.

When the searing images of the earthquake aftermath appeared - I didn&amp;#8217;t censor, I explained to the boys what had occurred in &amp;#8220;kid&amp;#8221; terminology.

&amp;#8220;There are big rocks under the ground and sometimes they move,&amp;#8221; I said.
&amp;#8220;When they move everything on top shakes. Buildings fell down and many people are hurt or may have died.&amp;#8221;

As they ate their dinner I reminded them to be thankful - people in Haiti lost everything.
&amp;#8220;Maybe we can send them this cup,&amp;#8221; Noah said. &amp;#8220;Then they will have something to drink.&amp;#8221;

OK, not a bad start.

We talked about how the United States was going to help and that we could send some money to the Red Cross.

&amp;#8220;We can give them some money from your piggy banks if you&amp;#8217;d like,&amp;#8221; I said with good intentions.

Noah thought about this for a moment and said, &amp;#8220;Yeah! Then there will be more room in our piggy banks for money for us!&amp;#8221;

My teaching moment went awry.
&amp;#8220;No. This isn&amp;#8217;t about you,&amp;#8221; I said.

I pointed to a picture on our fridge of a young girl named Venice who lives in the southern Philippines. We sponsor her through the Springfield based group, Naomi&amp;#8217;s Heart Mission.

&amp;#8220;She has to take her own chair to school,&amp;#8221; I said. &amp;#8220;Can you imagine carrying a chair to school?&amp;#8221;
He stared at me trying to process this information.

&amp;#8220;It is time, I believe, for these boys to do some volunteer work.

While I seek some opportunities for the boys to get involved in the community, I think I will take them shopping.

Not shopping to buy anything for them, but to buy some needed items for Venice - a reminder that it&amp;#8217;s &amp;#8220;not all about them.&amp;#8221;

I also realized that perhaps I should be setting a better example and get out into the &amp;#8220;real-world&amp;#8221; more myself.

That is a hard thing to admit, but it&amp;#8217;s amazing what a mother can learn from her kids.

Do you have ideas for volunteer opportunities for young children? If so, please share them.

Email this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com.

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16389503@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Motherhood Column</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-01-19T07:50:04-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>Conflicting sports schedules mean crazy days</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/01/15/a_family_of_fiv.html</link>
<description>A family of five going in three different directions at once? Sounds mathematically impossible, not to mention painful. But that&amp;#8217;s what we&amp;#8217;re facing this weekend. A big invitational for our junior high wrestler, a basketball game for our sixth-grade daughter,...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
A family of five going in three different directions at once? Sounds mathematically impossible, not to mention painful.

But that&amp;#8217;s what we&amp;#8217;re facing this weekend. A big invitational for our junior high wrestler, a basketball game for our sixth-grade daughter, and Pillo Hockey for our 4-year-old &amp;#8212; all happening at the exact same time! 

Go for the win!

Thank God all the events are in the same town or we&amp;#8217;d never make it through the day.

Hubby and I go to every one of the kids&amp;#8217; events if at all possible, but we&amp;#8217;ll definitely be on different courts for at least part of the morning. Then we&amp;#8217;ll all converge at the local high school in hopes of catching most of our eldest&amp;#8217;s matches. (Think pin!) 

Before anyone says our kids are overextended, please know that we only allow them to be involved in one activity at a time. But during winter and fall sports seasons, schedules frequently follow a collision course.

Days like this might be frantic, but they&amp;#8217;re actually quite fun. We get to watch our kids when they&amp;#8217;re the happiest: on the field of play. 

And managing to get everyone where they&amp;#8217;re supposed to be when they&amp;#8217;re supposed to be there feels like an accomplishment of the highest order.

So I&amp;#8217;m going to savor all the craziness while I can, because soon enough we won&amp;#8217;t have these moments of family bonding, sitting in the stands cheering for our own, sharing in their victories and defeats. Soon enough our children will be be grown, and we&amp;#8217;ll have to be content with whatever time they make for us. 

But for now I&amp;#8217;ll just give Hubby a wave if we pass each other while we&amp;#8217;re running taxi service. If I pass myself, I&amp;#8217;ll know I&amp;#8217;ve gone too far!

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16352603@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Mommy confessions</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-01-15T01:53:30-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>lbaker@coxohio.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>School gossip hard to come by in house of boys</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/01/14/school_gossip_h.html</link>
<description>Usually, I am not into gossip. Sure, if there is something startling or exciting going on at work or within a group of friends, I like hearing about it. But I don&amp;#8217;t actively seek it out. Usually. Where I have...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
Usually, I am not into gossip.

Sure, if there is something startling or exciting going on at work or within a group of friends, I like hearing about it.

But I don&amp;#8217;t actively seek it out.

Usually.

Where I have found the exception to this self-imposed rule concerns the gossip about my kids and their friends at school.

One reason this topic piques my interest is because I get so little information from my children &amp;#8212; that is, about their own lives.

I was lucky enough to be one of the first moms to hear that USC football coach Pete Carroll was headed to the Seahawks, and to get details about the Reds new pitcher.

But I believe this absence of personal divulgence is largely due to the fact that I have no daughters, who often are more open to sharing these details.

For instance, when I talk to my sons about school, I hear only what they ate for lunch or what they played at recess. And, if strongly pressed, one thing they did in the classroom that day.
There are no nuances, no impressions, no feelings expressed.

Fortunately, I am friends with other parents at the school &amp;#8230; and they have daughters.
They hear all about what I consider to be the fun stuff: friends, dating, personalities, etc.

And they are good sharers. 

One time one of the parents mentioned to me that, at a birthday party my son was not at, it had been revealed that a &amp;#8220;long-standing&amp;#8221; couple had broken up. Reportedly, all the girls present were shocked.

None of the boys, not even the boy involved, seemed as concerned.

Later, in a misguided attempt to start a conversation, I asked my 10-year-old about the couple.
&amp;#8220;Hey, did you know that (so-and-so) broke up?&amp;#8221;

&amp;#8220;No,&amp;#8221; he said, looking at me quizzically. &amp;#8220;How do you know?&amp;#8221;

&amp;#8220;Oh, you know, parents talk,&amp;#8221; I told him, then made a mental note to venture down that road again.

Another reason I would like to hear about the little details of their days is because it is an opportunity to get to know them better; and for us to talk about shared experiences.

That, at least, I think the boys are somewhat open to. When I heard (again from another parent) last year that the &amp;#8220;girlfriends&amp;#8221; and &amp;#8220;boyfriends&amp;#8221; started populating the fourth grade, it opened the door to a healthy, more natural conversation.

&amp;#8220;You know, I had my first boyfriend in fourth grade,&amp;#8221; I told my oldest son.

He whipped his head around &amp;#8212; &amp;#8220;You did!?&amp;#8221;

I nodded and added some details I thought he would find funny about how we had convinced our one friend who didn&amp;#8217;t have a boyfriend that she should have one, and helped her pick out cute boys on the playground.

Then I told my son how, as girlfriends and boyfriends, we had kissed on the cheek once in a while and held hands, and went skating sometimes.

He smiled, and said that he wasn&amp;#8217;t sure what his friends who were &amp;#8220;dating&amp;#8221; did (because he probably hadn&amp;#8217;t talked to them about it, either). He seemed reassured by the talk &amp;#8230; and possibly surprised that he didn&amp;#8217;t self-combust talking to me about it.

At any rate, I do hope the kids at least know they can come to my husband and me about these social issues, whenever they&amp;#8217;re ready.

And by now they should know, I will be all ears.

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16338903@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Mother&apos;s Daze columns</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-01-14T08:26:50-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>jikelley@coxohio.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>Find this &quot;helicopter mom&quot; at the landing pad</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/01/12/find_this_helic.html</link>
<description>Last week I hit a nerve. I wrote a column about my husband and I intervening when another child was bullying our son out of a toy while visiting a museum. My inbox was dinging and the online comment board...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
Last week I hit a nerve.

I wrote a column about my husband and I intervening when another child was bullying our son out of a toy while visiting a museum.

My inbox was dinging and the online comment board was lit up with opinions.

The feedback was mostly agreeable, but one response hit a nerve of my own.
I was called a &amp;#8220;helicopter mom&amp;#8221; (gasp!).

I make fun of &amp;#8220;helicopter parents,&amp;#8221; I can&amp;#8217;t possibly be one.

If I was an HP, my living room coffee table would have been adorned with bumper pads before my first child was born.
It still sits - unpadded - in front of the couch following not one, but two, trips to the ER for stitches in my son&amp;#8217;s face.

Nancy Gibbs wrote an article on &amp;#8220;helicopter parenting&amp;#8221; for Time magazine.
Helicopter parenting, or over-parenting, developed out of parents wanting the best for their kids, Gibbs said.

&amp;#8220;We were so obsessed with our kids&amp;#8217; successes that parenting turned into a form of product development.&amp;#8221;

The way I understand HPing, is it involves a lot of hovering. Hovering over every little thing our kids do and trying to protect them from getting physically or emotionally hurt.

If I was hovering - from a bench - at the museum where my son was being bullied out of a toy, I wonder what the term is for the parents who were not even within site while their children hurled plastic food? 

Distance-parenting, maybe?

I am guessing here, but distance-parenting must stem from the fact that it&amp;#8217;s a lot easier to just say &amp;#8220;OK&amp;#8221; to our kids and turn them loose, than actually put in the effort to make them behave and say, &amp;#8220;No.&amp;#8221;

I&amp;#8217;m not against allowing our children learn to stand up for themselves. 
In fact, my husband and I first stood by and let Noah try to make the best of the situation with the older child, before we got involved.

Had this other child simply asked nicely if he could have the item, Noah probably would have gladly handed it over.
But this child was also lacking manners, so our parental instincts won out.

We fired up our chopper blades and began hovering over our son until the perceived threat had moved on.

We don&amp;#8217;t want our child to be treated this way, nor do we want him to think it&amp;#8217;s ok for  him to treat people in the same manner.

In a sense this incident was a learning opportunity - for Noah and for us - and until the next one you can find me at the landing pad.

Email this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com.

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16319303@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Motherhood Column</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-01-12T15:31:14-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>Who wants to raise a thief?</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/01/08/who_wants_to_ra.html</link>
<description>Our car was broken into, another in a rash of break-ins in our usually safe neighborhood. Nothing was stolen; things were just tossed about. (I guess our junk wasn&amp;#8217;t good enough!) So I was stomping around the house, railing about...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
Our car was broken into, another in a rash of break-ins in our usually safe neighborhood. Nothing was stolen; things were just tossed about. (I guess our junk wasn&amp;#8217;t good enough!) 

So I was stomping around the house, railing about how thieves are the lowest of the low, when my wise-beyond-his-years 14-year-old calmly says to me: &amp;#8220;That&amp;#8217;s life. It shouldn&amp;#8217;t be, but it is.&amp;#8221; 

He really helps me put things in perspective.

I shared this bit of enlightenment with my Facebook friends (because that&amp;#8217;s just what I do) and got all sorts of heartfelt responses. Some applauded my son&amp;#8217;s sage outlook, and many shared their own tales of being victimized. Most who had brushes with random crime were angered or saddened by the experience, even years later.

I fall into the angry category: About 10 years ago, some hooligan broke into our minivan and stole 50 CDs (back in the days before iPods!) and worse yet, our video camera and case, holding our only copy of home videos of our kids&amp;#8217; first four years of life. I was devastated (still am). I even put an ad in the newspaper begging for the videotape back &amp;#8212; no questions asked &amp;#8212; but heard nothing.

To balance that story out: One particularly tight-budgeted Christmas, I was shopping at Walmart and I forgot my wallet on a bench in the shoe department. When I realized my error of epic proportions, I raced back through the store, my 9-months-pregnant belly bouncing savagely against the shopping cart. I must have looked like a wild woman. The wallet was gone. 

I asked hopefully at the service desk if anyone had turned it in, and the clerk scoffed at me. She said no one EVER turns in wallets or purses &amp;#8212; intact, that is. But she checked, and there it was! Some wonderful person had done the right thing, and my $360 in Christmas cash was still tucked safely inside.

It&amp;#8217;s frustrating to admit: We have little control over what other people&amp;#8217;s kids do to us. Not everyone lives by (or even knows) the Golden Rule. Not everyone realizes that their actions &amp;#8212; good or bad &amp;#8212; can have a profound impact. 

Maybe &amp;#8220;It&amp;#8217;s a Wonderful Life&amp;#8221; should be required viewing for every teen. That way, we&amp;#8217;d all be living in the charming town of Bedford Falls rather than that nasty old Pottersville. 

One FB friend, who in real life is a conflict resolution specialist, said many offenders &amp;#8220;mistakenly think they are only finding &amp;#8216;things&amp;#8217; that help them out without regard to how it makes others feel.&amp;#8221; Apparently, no one ever bothered to hold them accountable.

Whether it&amp;#8217;s shoplifting a candy bar at the corner store or cheating off a classmate&amp;#8217;s test (or pocketing poor Uncle Billy&amp;#8217;s $8,000!), kids should be taught that stealing is wrong. 

And that&amp;#8217;s our job. Pity those whose parents don&amp;#8217;t teach them that actions have consequences. They may be in for a rude awakening some day.

So maybe we can&amp;#8217;t change the world, but responsible moms and dads can make our little corner of it a place George Bailey would be proud to call his home.   

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16278203@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Mommy confessions</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-01-08T23:13:58-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>lbaker@coxohio.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>Mom ups ante where manners are concerned</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/01/07/mom_ups_ante_wh.html</link>
<description>They say, as a parent, you should pick your battles to keep some semblance of peace in the family. I would have to agree; if I didn&amp;#8217;t let a few things slide here and there, not only would I have...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
They say, as a parent, you should pick your battles to keep some semblance of peace in the family.

I would have to agree; if I didn&amp;#8217;t let a few things slide here and there, not only would I have no free time, but I wouldn&amp;#8217;t have any conversations with the kids that didn&amp;#8217;t include the word &amp;#8220;stop!&amp;#8221;

The only problem with that philosophy is sometimes you can ignore one too many battles and find yourself at war.

This is the case with my older son and me, and the battleground is common courtesy.

I had known for a couple years that the fifth-grader wasn&amp;#8217;t the most polite kid in the world, but it didn&amp;#8217;t hit me until the other day just how routinely removed he had gotten from employing these social mores.

And he isn&amp;#8217;t even a teenager yet.

The event that triggered this revelation wasn&amp;#8217;t such a big deal on its own, but it was the little slap in the face I guess I needed to see that the 10-year-old could use some stricter guidance on the subject &amp;#8212; or maybe even a new plan of attack.

What happened was, our family was going to a party where we knew we wouldn&amp;#8217;t know many people.

So, in the car on the way there, my husband and I reminded our sons that it was important that they introduce themselves clearly, shake hands if possible, look people in the eye and pay attention to what they were saying.

&amp;#8220;Yep, got it,&amp;#8221; was the assured, echoed response from the back seat.

However, after we got to the party and I was talking with someone I had recently met, the 10-year-old approached me. It was clear he wanted to get my attention. 

At the next pause in conversation, I introduced him to the woman, complete with directive nod.
In response, he held up his hand in a semi-wave to the woman, said a quick and dismissive &amp;#8220;Hi,&amp;#8221; and then turned to talk to me about something pressing &amp;#8212; I believe it was a cookie.

I was a little embarrassed &amp;#8212; all I could say was an insufficient &amp;#8220;He&amp;#8217;s 10,&amp;#8221; in explanation &amp;#8212; but more than anything else I was disappointed, because it showed he hadn&amp;#8217;t listened to me that night just as he hadn&amp;#8217;t listened in the past.

This last thought was then illustrated by a private screening in my head of the numerous times in which he had to be nudged to say &amp;#8220;please&amp;#8221; or &amp;#8220;thank you,&amp;#8221; when he was plenty old enough to know better, or when he had to be repeatedly instructed to be respectful or to focus on a person or event.

And it reminded me of the times when I had let his behavior go, in an effort to keep peace. But those days are over, at least as far as this topic is concerned.

From now on, instead of wasting my breath telling him to use the manners he has been taught ad nauseam or explaining away his unsatisfactory actions, I think he is just going to have to be penalized when he chooses not to be polite.

I&amp;#8217;ll give him fair warning that this is the new protocol, just to be sure we are clear.

Maybe this will help him remember his manners better, and even cut down the need for these battles.

Dare to dream.

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16259103@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Mother&apos;s Daze columns</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-01-07T07:16:37-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>jikelley@coxohio.com</dc:creator>
</item>
<item>
<title>Friendly reminder: Museum is not a day care center</title>

    

    


<link>http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/entries/2010/01/05/friendly_remind.html</link>
<description>Winter has tightened its grip but despite the new toys littering our home, my boys got a little stir-crazy during their break from school. We opted for an afternoon at the Boonshoft Museum as a cure to their cabin-fever. Neat...</description>
<!--
<content type="application/xhtml+xml" xml:space="preserve">
Winter has tightened its grip but despite the new toys littering our home, my boys got a little stir-crazy during their break from school.

We opted for an afternoon at the Boonshoft Museum as a cure to their cabin-fever.
Neat place for kids - educational and fun. They even have a zoo.

Our afternoon of exploring at the museum, however, turned into a test of limits for Mom and Dad.

The play area at the Boonshoft includes a General Store where children can push shopping carts around and fill them with pretend food.
Seemed harmless enough, so my husband and I plopped down on a nearby bench where we could see and monitor the boys in the &amp;#8220;store.&amp;#8221;

Soon, the boys were joined by about five more kids.
All was fine until these additional children - all older than the boys - began screaming, rough-housing and throwing the plastic food.
Noah and Nick stood in awe - and perhaps fear - of the chaos around them.

Wide-eyed, I waited for the parents to intervene. It didn&amp;#8217;t happen. In fact, they were nowhere to be found.
But, they weren&amp;#8217;t our kids, so we didn&amp;#8217;t say anything - at first.
That is until the food throwing resulted in a plastic banana whizzing right by our 4-month-old daughter.

I felt my primal motherly instinct stir as I glared at the child who had hurled the item.

My kids are not perfect - nor are we perfect parents - but I assure you, they would never get away with this kind of behavior. 

To our relief, the other children began making way to another area, so we stayed.

Enter wild-child group no. 2.

In the midst of &amp;#8220;checking out&amp;#8221; at the cash register, Noah was approached by a boy who was determined to have two shopping carts. 

&amp;#8220;He&amp;#8217;s taking Noah&amp;#8217;s cart!&amp;#8221; I said to my husband as that primal instinct moved beyond just &amp;#8220;stirring.&amp;#8221;

Still being the only adults around, we intervened on behalf of our son.
My husband asked the other boy to stop, and pointed out he already had a cart.

Playtime went on without incident for about two minutes.
Again, this child attempted to get Noah&amp;#8217;s cart.
Not knowing what else to do, he reluctantly released it.

Once again, my husband intervened and retrieved the cart from the bullying child.
Later we began questioning our decision to help Noah defend himself, but, we did what we thought was best in that situation.

A day later I&amp;#8217;m still hoping we didn&amp;#8217;t do more harm than good, as our goal is to raise children who are respectful and kind, but are not afraid to say &amp;#8220;No&amp;#8221; when the pressure is on.

Email this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com.

</content>
-->
<guid isPermaLink="false">16237903@http://www.daytondailynews.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/dayton/mommy/</guid>
<dc:subject>Motherhood Column</dc:subject>
<dc:date>2010-01-05T10:34:33-05:00</dc:date>
<dc:creator>motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com</dc:creator>
</item>


</channel>
</rss>