The Blame for What's Wrong With America

Read carefully the following words. All of these comments were made within the last few months by teenagers in a school with a mostly white student body.

If I were sitting in a room full of ____________ and didn’t know them, I would be scared.

All that is wrong with our country right now can be blamed on ______________.

I was sitting in class, and they were talking about some awful part of our history and someone asked, “And whose fault is this?” Everyone answered, __________________. I was practically the only _________________ in the class. I felt so uncomfortable and awkward.

__________________ have had all the privilege and the power for so long, it’s someone else’s turn. We should just eliminate all of them. Yes, the world would be a much better place if all the ____________ were gone.

Fill in the blanks with the word or group of words you think were originally used.

Did you write in the word blacks? Did you write in gays? How about Jews?

Go ahead. Reread the comments and fill in the blanks with those words. Does it scare you? Are you concerned at all at the casual communications of our youth? I hope it scares you. It should.

Now, let me tell you the actual words originally used in the comments.

If I were sitting in a room full of straight, white males and didn’t know them, I would be scared.

All that is wrong with our country right now can be blamed on the straight white male.

I was sitting in class, and they were talking about some awful part of our history and someone asked, “And whose fault is this?” Everyone answered, the straight, white male. I was practically the only straight, white male in the class. I felt so uncomfortable and awkward.

Straight, white men have had all the privilege and the power for so long, it’s someone else’s turn. We should just eliminate all of them. Yes, the world would be a much better place if all the straight, white men were gone.

That last comment was said in jest, but I’m not sure it matters. Or maybe it does. Maybe the fact that we can casually joke about exterminating an entire race-based gender should matter a lot more than it does. Maybe that’s the problem.

Guy Power

It's everywhere! Girl Power music, Girl Power movies. Girl Power memes and messages and mentors. As a mom of 3 daughters, I could not be happier for it.

As a mom of a son, I wonder where all the Guy Power stuff is.

My son is the youngest of my crew. The soundtrack of his childhood includes Hillary Duff, Kelly Clarkson, Avril Lavigne, and Cheetah Girls. Barbie and her Malibu house and jeep and massive wardrobe, who is employed as a CEO, a veterinarian, a teacher, an astronaut, and looks hot in a bikini, inhabited the play room. Even Blue from Blue's Clues is a girl.

I recently read one of those lists of 20 things every mom should teach her teenage daughter. It included things like "Pizza is always a good idea" and "your weight does not signify your worth". Maybe it's time someone made a list of 20 things every woman should teach her teenage son. If I made a list it might include the following.

1. Don't be afraid to open the door for her. If she gives you a dirty look because she can open her own damn door, try not to let it close on her.

2. Even though too many young ladies can't distinguish between kindness and "into her", be kind anyway. That's her problem.

3. Don't stress over the perfect Promposal that will look good on social media. If she's worth anything, she'll want to go with you just because she wants to go with you.

4. Check her Twitter before asking her out. If she airs everything to everyone (even passive aggressively), don't walk away...RUN!

5. Yes, guys are clueless (including you), but teenage girls are crazy. All of them. If you really want a girlfriend, choose your crazy.

6. It's important to hang our with your buddies without the girls. If she cries about it, let her cry. You deserve to have your own friends and your own time.

7. Regardless of the media portrayals, your muscle mass does not signify your worth.

8. Some teenage girls might fall all over themselves for attention from super athletic gym rats, but those aren't the girls you'll be happy with anyway.

9.  Confidence is attractive. Arrogance is not.

10. You don't need a girlfriend to complete you.

11. Yes, pizza is usually a good idea. So are grapefruit and carrots. Try them every now and then.

12. Life is expensive. Don't feel uncomfortable or embarrassed to discuss with your date who will pay for what. But if you invite her, be prepared to pay. If you decide to do an activity together, discuss the finances.

13. For most girls, sex = love. Don't do it unless you truly love her. Hint: You won't truly know you love her until you are willing to NOT do it for the health of your relationship. Even if she is willing, don't do it yet. You'll hurt her in ways you didn't mean to.

14. Don't kiss and tell. Just smile and make them wonder. In any case, defend her honor and your own.

15. You are enough. Just as you are. Your body, your face, your hair, your brain is all enough.

16. Guys think insulting each other is as funny as a soccer ball to the groin. Remember, a soccer ball to the groin is painful, too.

17. It is perfectly fine to appreciate beauty. And guess what else? It is perfectly fine, when you are with your buddies, to comment on a girl's fine ass and great rack and luscious legs. Don't let females fool you. We are doing the same thing regarding the guys.

18. Even though showing emotion is fine, it is also fine to "suck it up" and "be a man". Again, don't let us fool you. We like a strong man. We like to have a strong heart to fall apart on. Have you heard  "Break on Me" by Keith Urban?

19. Learn to cook.

20. In the history of the world, most of the great poets and musicians and entrepreneurs and military leaders and inventors and doctors and philosophers have been men. Don't apologize for that. They have made mistakes. So have the women in this world. But great men have done great things. Be proud to be part of that heritage.

I'm not sure this is an exhaustive list. I don't even know if it's a good list, but I did hit on some important parts. The biggest message I want young men to understand is really the same one we've been preaching to our girls. That is--don't give up your own power by believing belittling messages. Even if there is no such thing as Guy Power music or movies, create your own power. You are enough. You are perfect. You are Man, Hear you Roar. In numbers too big to ignore...

Wow. You guys really do need your own Power Music, don't you?

Ice Cream is for Wimps, or so I've Heard

I think the temperature was around 104 degrees. Or at least that's what it felt like. I don't remember any kind of breeze at all. It was just miserably hot. As I sat in the uncomfortable, scratchy canvas portable lawn chair, feeling like my skin was literally melting off my bones, it suddenly dawned on me that what I was doing was absolutely ridiculous. Correction--not what I was doing. It was what I was expecting my 8 year old son to do, while I sat on the sidelines and cheered him on, that was ridiculous.

Yes, we had applied the sunscreen and brought more with us to apply at the half since he would surely sweat it off. Yes, we had a cooler full of cold water bottles. And, yes, we were shouting all the positive, motivational cheers. But as he and his team mates huffed and puffed and turned beat red under the blazing sun, I had to wonder if the heat hadn't gone to our brains.

It was my son's first (and last) year playing for a competitive soccer league. He belonged to a small team. There were only 2 subs. Was it a coincidence that on that horribly hot day, only half the team showed up? Were those absent families really on vacation or were they enjoying ice cream sundaes at the air conditioned Dairy Queen?

Anyway, at the coach's discretion, we played two men down. They had six on the field. We had four. I still wonder what kind of win-at-all-cost man coached the other team, seeing as how he could have played with four players, too, but didn't. Our coach explained that he wanted the boys to learn to never give up and never give in. To always give your best. To never walk away from a challenge, no matter how tough it appeared.

At first, the message seemed to be being heard, loud and clear. The boys stepped up and played hard, knowing they were certainly at a disadvantage. But with the opposing team making periodic substitutions so their advantaged players could rest and cool off, our boys quickly lost steam. And then lost heart.

I guess this Roaring Mom believes that sports should be fun first. And on that blistering hot day, my son and his team mates were NOT having fun. The parents were NOT having fun. And even our coach, with all his noble philosophies, did NOT seem to be having fun. We were uncomfortable, cranky, sweaty, and sunburned. At least that's how I remember it.

I've attended dozens of soccer games since, but that one is still one of the most memorable. I still wonder if maybe we all should have forfeited and joined our traitorous teammates for banana splits. Finally, I've decided--yes. That's exactly what we should have done. It would have made for great memories. And maybe even provided great photos for a scrap book page. The important thing is--it would have been fun!

But, as you know, I'm not very experienced in the world of all things boy. Curious for a father's opinion, I called on Manly Man Dad Friend who advises me on these issues. It turns out, Manly Man Dad agrees with our coach. Not only that, but he agrees with the opposing coach, too. Our players who showed up should get to play and the other team should not be penalized because half our team wasn't there. Furthermore, not only did he agree with the coaches, he seemed to think the decision was a no-brainer and that the situation was no big deal.

I didn't buy it.

So today, I asked my son (who is now 11 and happily playing rec league) if he remembered that game. His answer:

"Oh, yeah. It was me and Jake and Cameron and some other kid whose name I can't remember."

"So what do you remember about how you felt that day?"

"I felt great!"

"You did? You didn't feel bad that you were out there having to play with 2 less men than the other team?"

"Nope. I felt great because we were trying our best even though we didn't have enough guys."

How embarrassing! I have roared about the unfair nature of that game more than once in the last three years. I guess sometimes being a parent calls for quiet, especially when learning life lessons concerning things I apparently know nothing about, like how to think like a man. Guess I've discovered another rule for the How To Raise A Boy Manual.

So, how about it, Moms? Am I alone in the universe in my initial reaction? Or are you all right there with me, heading to the D.Q. as fast as you can?

Sugar High

Ripped from the Headlines of Facebook:

"OH yes!...Paybacks are hell!...I just gave my daughter a tube of Liquid Lolly-pop & a Mountain Dew...now waiting on my Ex to pick-up my daughter."

True status posted on a FB friend's page. I read it and...laughed. It's just funny. But, judging by the comments she got, not everyone appreciated the humor.

This woman was chastised publicly for everything from manipulating her child against the father to committing child abuse. Child abuse? For letting her child drink a Mountain Dew? Give me a break.

Some folks did come to her defense, and I noticed the comments were equally split--men vs. women. Mom vs. dads, perhaps?

I have no idea what her family life is like, but I do understand the idea of payback. Moms, how many times did you prepare a nutritious meal, only to discover that dad had spoiled the kids' appetites with sugary pre-dinner snacks? How many times did you find creative ways to get the kids to choke down carrots and broccoli, only to have dad announce loudly to everyone that he was treating them to Dairy Queen for desert? How many times did you send him to the store for string cheese and whole grain bread, only to have dad bring home Fritos, bean dip, and double stuff Oreos? And my personal favorite--how many times did you specifically forbid any $100/100 calorie per kernel movie theatre treats, only to have him return from the "restroom" with a tray full of the stuff?

Mountain Dew and Liquid lollipops might be considered child abuse! My Aunt Fanny's fanny!

If sugaring up a child is abusive, there are a lot of grandparents with a lot of explaining to do. Most grandparents I know brag about the fact that they spoil the grandkids and then return them to the parents. And some even do it on purpose, just to experience the joy of payback!

My dad is an amazing cook. The kids beg to go to his house, sometimes just for the leftovers, which are always better than anything fresh off the grill in my kitchen. But even with a the luscious buffets he prepares, one of their favorite things about going to Grandpa's is the fact that the pantry is full of soda pop and the freezer is full of individual Haagen Dazs ice cream cups. And they can have as many of each as they want. Grandpa stocks these sinful snacks specifically for the grandkids. He and Grandma don't indulge in them. It's an investment he makes purely for the benefit of payback. And maybe for the hugs and smiles from the grandkids when I say they've had enough and they answer, "But Grandpa said I could!"

Grandpa has been spoiling his grandkids like this for a very long time. His oldest is 20 years old. He drives back from college and sometimes makes a stop at Grandpa's soda and ice cream shop before he even makes it home.

When my daughter was three days old--three DAYS old, Grandpa came to visit. It just happened to be Halloween. All the cousins had flocked to our house to see the new baby and, if the truth be known, because we had the best trick-or-treating neighborhood in the city. There was sweet stuff piled on every horizontal surface. I should have known better than to leave Grandpa alone with the baby. Thanks to him, she enjoyed her first lollipop that night. And when the moms caught him and screamed that he couldn't let a 3-day-old lick a lollipop, he laughed and continued to hold the cherry sucker to her eager lips.

So, did this mom commit mortal sin by sugaring up her child before sending her to Dad's? Well, scientists have been trying to tell moms for years that sugar has nothing to do with hyperactivity. That it's the party atmosphere that those snacks are served in that create the chaos. I never bought it, but if science is on her side, maybe she should embrace the official findings.

In any case, the daughter will soon crash, so maybe Mom did Dad a favor. Maybe he'll be able to sit back with a cold soda and candy bar and watch the game while the daughter takes a nice, long nap. We'll just hope he's not too hyper for her, once she wakes up.

What do you think? Harmless humor or abusive action?

A Good Fit

My nephew was less than three years old when I witnessed his fit throwing, which had his mother quite concerned and frustrated with his misbehavior. I don't remember what was not going his way that day, but I do remember him sliding onto the floor and quietly lying there.

"Do you see how he throws fits when we tell him no?" his mother asked.

I thought she was joking. I looked down at the boy who silently looked up at me...and I laughed.

"That's a fit?"

Mind you, there was some non-compliance in his slouching to the floor. However, I think the act should have been labeled sulking rather than fit-throwing.

I thought of my own kids. I remember Kate throwing her body to the ground, kicking her feet, and screaming. Wait,that was just last week and she's 18.

Seriously though, at three years old Kate would howl,twist around on the floor and stiffen her arms because she did not want to put her coat on. She would cry and stiffen her entire body every time we tried to put her in a car seat. The only thing that stopped the tantrum was to tickle her ribs. She'd go limp with laughter and we'd quickly buckle her in. Once she realized she'd been restrained, the howling would start again.

Then there's my quiet daughter. She may be my most quiet child now, but that's only because she used up most of her allotted noise during the first 18 months of her life. She screamed for a solid 18 months. And this is not simply the claim of an over-tired, frustrated mom. I have witnesses. Grandma, neighbors, friends, and even the older cousin we all referred to as the World's Best Babysitter all tried and failed to calm her. For 18 months! The funny thing is, once she learned to communicate with words and signs, the tantrums stopped. I guess she just had something to say, but didn't have any other way to say it.

I remember my son, at three years old, stomping to his room and slamming the door when he wasn't getting his way. When we didn't follow, he would peek his head out and announce, "Hey, I'm crying in here!" And I would say, "Okay," and his sisters would laugh. And then he would laugh and the fit would be over with. I guess the fact that he was the fourth one helped me not worry too much about three-year-old fits. That and the fact that there wasn't any amount of crying, wailing, and body contortions that could top what I'd already seen with his sisters. Some things, I think, girls are just naturally better at. Fit throwing, at least in my house, seems to be one of them.

Come to think of it, when I look at the men and women in my own life, there does seem to be a pattern. Men seem to be natural sulkers and women seem to be natural fit throwers. I wonder if it is indeed genetic, or if it goes back to that age-old idea that men should not express emotions for fear of looking weak. Or maybe, women are just so good at it, that our men have realized not to even bother trying. So perhaps it's not necessarily sulking, so much as it is self-preservation.

So consider this--If females are naturally so much better at fit throwing, obviously it is an inborn trait, a genetic calling of sorts. So why, do we work so hard to stifle this talent when we grow up? I'm thinking of embracing my natural tantrum tendencies next time things don't go my way. But not in a foot stamping, Kate Gosselin kind of way. Instead, I think I'll go for the mature, adult fit. Think Julia Sugarbaker of Designing Women. Now, that's the way to throw a fit. It might not get me what I want, but if I could find a way to get a studio audience to applaud, I'm sure I'll feel better when it's all said and done.

Chick Break

My son has been surrounded by pink since the day he was born. With three sisters, one just 16 months older, he was born into a world of ballerinas and Barbies. I still remember the day my neighbor brought a gift for the new baby. It was a box full of blue blankets. "Now we don't ever want to see him wrapped in pink again," they smiled, insistently.


I've heard it said that kids are kids; gender doesn't matter. And yet, he was making boy noises with his hot wheels before he could communicate in complete sentences. Lord knows I didn't teach him those. I still can't make any kind of decent boy noise. My machine gun sounds like a baby blowing bubbles and my laser gun is more of a slow leak in beach ball. Even now, I question my ability to speak his language. Just yesterday I was being schooled on the difference between a speeder, a jet and a fighter. I listen. I smile. I nod. But I can't really join in the conversation the way I can with my girls.

My girls don't realize how lucky they are to have a brother. They are learning the lingo much better than I ever did. My son and his closest sister (the quiet, yet calculating one) truly speak the same language. Being so close in age, they have been best friends since the days when she would steal his bottle while he was strapped in a car seat and couldn't retaliate. I would stand back and watch as they figured out how to play together in a way that would combine baby dolls and guns.

"You be the mom and the bad guys come and steal your baby and I'll be the police and save the baby."

I would stand back mostly because I wasn't exactly sure how to raise a boy, outside of buying boy toys. But even before there were many of those, my son used Barbie bicycle handlebars as a space ship. He didn't care that it was pink, because it sounded very much like a real spaceship, thanks to his over-developed, in-born boy noise making mechanism. A Tupperware bowl was his Buzz Lightyear helmet. With that bowl on his head, he was Buzz Lightyear. To this day my son is extremely creative. So maybe I did something right with my "hands off" approach to boy raising.

Maybe, I've inadvertently discovered one of the secrets to successful parenting: Guide them in what you can and let them figure the rest out on their own. He seems to have done a pretty good job of it so far.

Still, sometimes I worry that he's living in his own world at home. While the sisters loudly discuss the latest teen girl crisis, throw fits over bad hair days, and threaten bodily harm if she wears her favorite shoes one more time without asking, my son happily builds a Lego Space station or celebrates passing the next level of Halo (if there is such a thing). I asked him the other day, as he scooted into his Legoland bedroom, why he was going to his room. He just smiled and said, "I need a chick break."

Last week, when I tucked the kids into bed, I noticed that the quiet, calculating daughter was covered with the Pirate Blanket while my son was wrapped in Ballerina Fleece.

"Hey, buddy. I'm sorry. The blankets got mixed up. You want me to trade them for you?"

He shook his head and answered in his resigned manner, "Don't worry about it, Mom. Some of us are secure in our manhood."

So all you Roaring Moms of boys...are all boys this easy or did I just get lucky?