81 If we would have forced Kyle to go to a full drug treatment program, would it have changed anything?

    
   After Kyle was off heroin for about a year, he walked into our bedroom while I was folding laundry, leaned down and petted our Westie, then nonchalantly said, "I need help." The statement sounded as if he needed assistance with his homework, but I knew that's not what he meant. He placed his foot on our Victorian stuffed chair and showed me the needle holes between his big toe and the next one. I  waited for an avalanche to catch my breath, but I guess my body finally accepted that he was on his own path and there wasn't much I could do about it. I looked into those disappointed blue eyes.
   "Mom, I'm sorry. I know I can kick this."
    "I know you can too." He gave me a warm, tight hug. Was he hopeful that his strong arms around me would defuse any disappointment?  But I wasn't upset. Maybe too many things had happened these last two years, which taught me that I can't can't totally protect my children.  My son held his own keys to his future and the only thing I, as a parent, could do was be there for him for support and encourage him to heal.
   I told Alan what Kyle had said. The days of trying to hide all the chaos such as Kyle's car accidents and drinking to protect him from his dad's wrath were over.
  "Tina, I'm scared that he doesn't have the will power to fight this demon. I'm scared we're going to lose him." Alan had a catch in his voice, he was struggling not to cry. I often wondered if he cried alone in his car while driving to a job. How could he hold in so much pain? "We have to make him go to full drug rehab. He needs to be sent out of California away from his drug buddies. We have the money."
    I agreed but wondered if  Kyle would agree.  

    After Kyle had a session with his psychiatrist, I was called into his office. I have an architect husband, so I know what an organized office looks like, but even Alan had a pile of active files on his desk. Every book the ceiling to floor bookcase was lined up in perfect order, even the two pens obeyed and laid parallel, two inches from the desk pad. And one file sat on the pad, I assumed Kyle's. 
  The doctor crossed his legs. "Kyle admitted that he slipped and used again."
   I was proud of Kyle for telling his psychiatrist the truth. Last two or three years, the truth was something Kyle had learned to stretch as if making taffy. I told the psychiatrist that Alan and I want to place our son into a full care rehab facility out of state.
   "Mom, I know I can do this," he said quietly but intensely.
   The doctor glanced at Kyle and said, “He’s 21, neither you or I can force him to go if he doesn't want to.”
   Belligerently I spat out, “Well, we could kick him out on the street if he doesn’t go to a full care facility." Alan and I had already agreed that this was an option. We felt that maybe this would wake our spoiled son up and teach him to be responsible.
   But the good doctor pulled his squarish black rimmed glasses off and then shared that because Kyle was mentally ill, he calmly suggested, that we didn’t do that.
 I asked the doctor since Kyle was mentally ill if I could fill out paperwork so we could make mental health decisions. He said we could do that, but Kyle had come a long way on the new medication. He was right, the schizophrenia and bipolar symptoms were pretty much under control. His scratching, hallucinations and talking to himself about cops following him around had disappeared entirely. "You need to trust him," the good doctor had suggested.
   After Kyle's breakdown, he tried to jump into taking a full load of classes at college, but his medicine hadn't taken hold yet, so we encouraged him to take a break for a while so could give himself time to heal. The following year he was ready; we suggested that he start with one class.  This time he wasn't struggling like he had the semester before.
   He knew that he had placed stress on Alan and I’s relationship. He knew Alan, and I needed a break from it all when we decided to celebrate our 30th anniversary. We wanted to do something special, so we had planned a trip to Vancouver. I was very apprehensive about leaving him alone, and Kyle could feel it.
   “Mom, I’m going to be okay. Stop worrying.” He reminded me that since he had no keys to his car because of his last D.U.I.(we hid them), he could only get around by friends driving him and he had stopped going to parties over a year ago and after finding wet towels in my cupboard, a tip of a knife broken in my cutting board and a filled hole in the ways in the laundry room, I had had it. (Often times I didn't tell his dad.) I told Kyle if he had any more huge parties that I personally would kick him out.
   I asked one of my students that had graduated a few years earlier if he’d take Kyle to his psychiatrist and group drug counseling appointments. I was tempted to ask Travis to stay the five days at our home and pay him so Kyle would have someone around. But Alan argued that I needed to trust Kyle.  I was very apprehensive about leaving him.


   Kyle overdosed and passed away while we were in Vancouver.
   Would anything have changed if we wouldn’t have gone to Canada?   Nope. Friends came out of the woodwork after Kyle died, telling us of the plethora of times their parents or wife made them go to rehab and how they finally realized enough was enough and they kicked themselves into rehab. and became clean because they wanted to, not because someone was forcing them.
   We learned later that Kyle wasn’t going to his group drug meetings, and sometimes would slip out the backdoor when I dropped him off or after his session, he would have a drug buddy pick him up, and they would go shoot up. In plain English.....he wasn’t ready to stay clean. 

82 - Talk to your children about S-E-X before they get to 6th grade

   

        I had started 'sharing time' whenever I could fit it into my art class because I had a couple of students who were hardcore gang members at my school that year. No one was talking much. Once I had started Share Day, it opened them up, maybe too much.

       I opened my mouth to say something but immediately clamped it shut. One of my 8th graders shared proudly that he was a father already. He had talked his sixth-grade girlfriend into ditching with him. Of course, they started doing what high school students do, not what middle schoolers used to do when I was growing up. In the thick of things, Jimmy realized he didn't have a condom, so he grabbed a plastic bag in his room.

     Some of the 7th and 8th graders asked Jimmy, who was now in 9th, how he felt about being a dad. (Our school hadn't switched to a middle school yet.) He told them that he loved his son but was too young to be a father. Suddenly his macho voice disappeared, and a soft sheepish voice snuck out, "But most of all, I feel stupid because I thought a plastic sandwich bag would work as a condom. I should have had a condom on me because I knew I was gonna have, you know..." His voice trailed off.

      My students laughed, making him turn even redder. I tensed, worried that Jimmy would get pissed, but it looked like he felt comfortable with the class for the first time. I was proud of him for sharing his most embarrassing moment. I know the students listened to him more than they would have to me if I had given a lecture on being responsible when you have sex. But this talk made me aware that I needed to be a vigilant parent, talking to my kids about the responsibility of having sex and having the maturity to have it. Because I knew I couldn't shrink to travel in their pocket to ensure they behaved. Thank God I didn't have to worry about it as Kyle was 7 and Nicole was 3. But I wondered when was the appropriate time to start a conversation.

       I don't know how your parents told you about the birds and the bees, but I think my dad was worried because it was 1971, and the sexual revolution already had been in full swing since the late 1960s. My twin brother and I were in high school when our dad handed my twin a book about sex and told us to read it; if we had any questions, we could ask him. Joseph was biting back a grin, and I was holding in a giggle. I tell you, it was so hard not to burst out laughing. Since my dad hadn't signed the papers for us to watch the movie about the birds and the bees in 6th grade (my mother did), he didn't know we had already learned about all that scary but embarrassing stuff. Our brother, Alex, who was a year younger, received a more straightforward book. The three of us cracked up that our father gave us these childlike books. When he asked if we had any questions after reading them, the three of us said no and waited till he walked off to have a good laugh. HIgh school was too late then, and now junior high is too late to talk to your kids about the birds and the bees.

      I totally forgot about talking to my children in 5th or 6th grade. Still, around 8th grade, I was the one who spoke to Kyle about waiting to be sexually active until he was at least college age because he would be more mature and responsible. (8th grade is too late.) Then when we moved Kyle out of the house for a semester because he had totaled his second car and I felt he needed to continue his education at Santa Monica College, I bought him a box of condoms and told him I was not ready to be a grandmother yet. "Sex is something you do with someone you care about," I had said.  

      I still wasn't sure what to say, but he gave me this sheepish grin and said, "Thanks, mom." He probably was already active, but I was too chicken to ask.

     As for Nicole, too much chaos was happening in the house. It totally slipped my mind to talk to her, but maybe it was because she rarely went out, so I didn't worry. When Nicole was in 10th grade, at school, the nurse handed out condoms as long as parents signed an authorization paper. But instead of signing the paperwork, I told Nicole, "I hope that you will talk to me before you become sexually active, and I'll gladly take you to get birth control pills." I remember this strange smile she gave me. Now I realize how many kids will come up to their parents and say, "Hey, mom, I really like Mark, and we'd like to screw around. Can I get on some birth control pills?" I don't think I ever talked to her about the responsibility of having sex, but maybe because she always seemed more mature than I ever was at her age, I didn't feel like I had to give her a lecture.  

     Don't be naive like we were. Start talking to your kids early and continue talking to them every single school year. Roffman wrote "Talk To Me First: Everything You Need to Know to Become Your Kids' "Go-To" Person About Sex" that children who grow up in a family where sexuality is openly discussed postpone risky behaviors, which include sexual activity.

   Kids today live in an era where media exposes them to a deluge of sexual subjects. Many T.V. shows and movies exhibit sex without intimacy or do not show the critical process of deciding even to have the experience. 

      "The average age to have their first intercourse in the United States is currently 17 years old, with only 16 percent of teens having sex before they turn 15. The percentage of high schoolers who say they've had sex has been dropping for 20 years and now stands under 50 percent. The number who describe their first sexual activity as "unwanted" has dropped by a third in less than a decade and now stands at well under 10 percent. "https://rewire.news/article/2014/03/25/golden-age-teen-sexual-responsibilty/   Many had stated they had had sex with a girlfriend or a boyfriend and had used protection, a big difference from when I was a teen.

      6% of middle schoolers are having sex which has led some schools to offer free condoms.

     How should you approach "the talk?" It cannot just be one talk and you're done. You have to be ready to talk about the subject on an ongoing basis.

Some do's and don't s to help you teach your child about this critical subject:

     Husband and wife need to sit down and discuss their feelings about age-appropriate and consensual sex before talking to your child. I'll never forget when y younger brother, Alex told us he had sex. My two brothers and I were shocked, and then I asked him, "What did you do?"  

      "We held hands." He replied. We teased him and verified that he definitely was innocent. He was in 6th grade.

Talking to your teen about sex is too late.

   Don't assume school covers the material. Start this discussion when they're young and with age-appropriate material. And explain how their body is going to change. Yes, they'll get some of this info from school and maybe from their peers, but there will be holes, and you don't want any misinformation or missed information. (Get online and buy age-appropriate books. A little girl I babysit, who is 4 years old, pulled out a book, and that shocked me. It was honest, straightforward, and visual. I guess I'm a curmudgeon. )

Make yourself available to talk, and if you're busy, sit down or set up a time.

     When young people are engaging in behaviors that are beyond their developmental capacity, it's almost always due to a lack of adult supervision. Kids want to be able to speak to their parents, so you have to be approachable. No judgments; keep an open mind if they're asking you questions.

   It's essential to make your child feel comfortable and for you to feel at ease talking about whatever issue is brought up. Yes, you're not going to be perfect at this, but your child will know that you're not the expert on Sex Education. If you don't know the answer, admit it and look it up together. Or promise you'll find the solution and get back to him/her later.   

   Finally, don't get hung up on having a parent talk to a child, Homme says. The goal is to create a caring environment where a "trusted adult," be it a grandparent or caregiver, can provide guidance. 

 Don't use pet names for private parts.

    No matter how tempted you might be to show how creative you are, do not make names for private parts. You need an open, honest environment. Plus, when you use the actual name, 'vagina,' you're saying to your child, there's no shame when you say the correct word.

Be aware of the correct setting for your conversations.

    Berman suggests that a car might be the perfect place to begin the conversation. Just think, your audience can't escape, and due to the seating, there's little eye contact which might make you feel a bit more comfortable. But don't do this every time, or your kid will shut down. Another ideal time to broach the subject might be when you go for a walk. "Boys especially respond better if you are engaged in some kind of activity together, like throwing a ball or washing the dishes," Berman says.

Don't give too much info.

    Don't give so much info that your child feels overloaded and tunes out. Just answer their questions. If a 7-year-old asks where babies come from, don't describe everything in graphic detail. Just tell your child that a baby grows in their mommy's tummy. If your child is 10 or 12, the response will naturally be more involved and age-appropriate.

    Use your child's questions as an opportunity to understand where he's getting his information about sex. Ask them a lot of questions.

Explain their rights, responsibilities, and what's at stake.

     Even though many kids now look physically older than their age, they still have tons of growing up to experience. The brain's prefrontal cortex, which is associated with rational decision-making, does not fully develop until age 21. (Unless they use drugs, that brain section will develop a few years later.) Just think of the mistakes you made when you were 18 to 21. Those raging hormones made us feel immortal, incapable of making mistakes or doing anything wrong.

    It's just not the consequences of intercourse, but another risk when being involved in other types of sexual activity, contracting sexual diseases. Explain what their responsibility is when having sex and what the consequences could be if they are pregnant. (One year, we had about eight pregnancies in our high school, ranging from 9th to 12th grade. Of course, many of us teachers thought it was because of that T.V. series  about the lives of real pregnant teens.)

   Explain that they shouldn't let anyone push them into it. If I had to do it again, I'd practice with my children how to say 'no,' so they're not pushed into doing something they don't want. (This is setting boundaries.)  You have to tell them that it's their body and they have to make the final decision, but that you hope they will think of the consequences and make a wise choice and hope the experience is with someone they love. Having sex can change one's life, and that's not something to play around with.
 

Helpful books:

    Berman, Laura. Talking to Your Kids about Sex: Turning "The Talk" Into a Conversation for Life.

    Elliot, Sinikka.  Not My Kid: What Parents Believe about the Sex Lives of Their Teenagers.

80 - Don't push your child or grandchild into your profession or a profession

    Don't try to push your child into a profession that you wished you had chosen or one that you are in.  Yes, it’s okay to say, “I wish I would have gone to school to be a teacher, but that isn’t what I want you to be unless that’s what interest you. I’ll be proud of you in any profession that you choose.”

     My dad mentioned quite a few times about wanting to be a high school teacher, so my twin, Joseph,  felt that our dad expected him to be one. Therefore, that’s what he became because he thought our dad would be proud of him if he chose this profession.  However, in Joseph’s heart, he really wanted to be a professional singer, and he easily could have because he has a voice that would blow you away. And an old French exchange student of ours still has a father who pesters him to go to school to become a doctor like him and his ex-wife, but that is not what Paul wants to do. We're not sure what Paul wants, but now he's happy working various jobs and living off the land in New Zealand.

    I wonder why especially men try to talk their kids into following in their footsteps or the footsteps they wish they would have taken.  Is there a familiarity with the profession, so the parent thinks he could help the child in some way? Or maybe he thinks it’s a secure profession with benefits; therefore, he won’t have to worry about his child. 

    We didn’t really talk about a profession with our children until high school. I know I discussed with Nicole following a Musical Theatre career because she was such a natural at it and because she didn’t have any idea what she wanted to do professionally. Or was I guiding her into the profession because I had really wanted to be on stage, but I was too insecure to do it.  Now I realize  she didn’t want to share what she wanted to be because she knew her father would be freaked. She became a mortician. When Alan found out, he did get grossed out. I, however, told him that it took a very very special person to go into that field. I'm very very proud of her.  Alan has finally gotten used to the idea. He felt that she was so intelligent that she could have done anything.
   It takes an intelligent individual to go into that field because the courses are challenging. Her choice fit her personality. She liked the arts which had a tinge of darkness. Also, she was excellent in science and math and unlike me, she didn't have any problems with memorizing. Some of the courses required are:  psychology,  interpersonal communication and grief counseling, a class I'm sure which helped her process her grief after she lost her brother to a heroin overdose.

   You, as a parent, guardian, relative, Au pair person, babysitter or grandparent have to be open and accepting. It’s their life. They are going to be the ones that have to like their job, not you.

   Yes, parents or care giver should discuss your teen’s interest and stress the importance of making a decent living so bills can be paid. If they're in their teens, get online and look up the education needed, and yearly income together. Have your teen do the math. Share with your teen how much it takes to live monthly: rent, utilities, food, insurance, car, etc. (I did this with my English students.) This will really open their eyes. My students were always shocked when we did this as a mini assignment in regards to a reality check.  I think they appreciated their parents even more. That does not mean a parent should stress going to a 4-year university. There are plenty of jobs out there that have a two-year program. Some professions will train them while they are working on the job. 

         Kyle was so confused about what career to choose. I kept telling him he’s 19, just relax and enjoy going to school.  But now even community colleges make you chose a career. He decided upon   rchitecture. Math wasn’t his strongest subject, so I was worried. I told him, “Kyle you don’t have to choose architecture because your dad is doing it.”

      “Mom, I’m not, I just don’t know what else to do. And I like buildings." He found the math too difficult and decided to switch to history as his major and P.E. and teach high school He had talked about being a teeacher when he was in high school because he had had some excellent teachers. But Ithink he thought his dad would be more proud of him if he went into architecture.

    In Europe, a few countries allow teens in their last two years of high school to work or train with professionals in the afternoon to see if they’d like to work in that field. Then they can experience what it’s like to be a plumber, nurse, electrician and then decide if it's right for them. Some actually start learning a trade.

     In Germany they encourage the high school graduates to work at a few jobs they're interested in before taking classes at the university, so they have some experience behind them and have grown up a bit, so they’re more focused.  I wish that were more of a philosophy in the U.S. Maybe there would be less drinking and better grades the first year of college or trade school.

     The best advice I can give is to talk to your children  but leave your own agenda behind. Ask them what they’re interested in doing at an early age. It will change probably at least 50 times before graduating.  Don’t become anxious if your son decides he wants to be a dog catcher, just go with it. You can talk about the pros and cons of each job. Don’t talk about income until maybe middle school.

  You can highlight this site, copy and paste onto search section at top of page.    The sites change often, so I only listed one. But I'm sure you can find a couple of useful ones all by yourself.

 https://www.thebalancecareers.com/helping-your-children-make-career-choices-525407  

79 Dead son Lecturing me about why he chose to be Bi-polar in this Life Time

 
                                   JOURNAL ENTRY           November   2011 

   After having a daughter run away from all the chaos in our home and then losing a son to deadly heroin, I was bombarded with guilt. There were so many dark thoughts: if I would have done this or if I could have done that and not been a chicken shit, everything would have been different.   I would still have a daughter who was talking to us instead of shutting us out of her life, and we’d even have a son who was alive.
   I drove to school struggling to blink away the wall of tears; I could barely see the road.  My mind would not be quiet. My brain kept replaying all my mistakes. I pulled into the school parking lot, unsure if I could even crawl out of my car. The car mirror told me I looked like shit. My eyes were red and puffy. 
   “I wish I could have guided you better,” a sigh of disappointment slipped from my lips.   
   “Mom, it wouldn’t have mattered, even if I didn’t get involved with drugs, I still would have died.” My dead son explained.  “Would you feel any better if I would’ve been killed in a car crash?”
   “No, but maybe you wouldn’t have suffered so much while growing up. And we wouldn’t have become so confused and upset with your behavior. The whole family morphed into other people.”
   “Mom, I’m sorry but what happened, was supposed to happen. I made that choice before I was born and you made your choice to have me as a son. These conflicts had to occur for all of us, including Nicky for our souls to advance.” 
   “But why would you choose to be bi-polar? You were up and down like a yo-yo.”
   “’Cuz it made me learn some lessons quicker. My soul needed to learn specific lessons faster because my soul knew my physical life on earth would be short.”
   “What the hell lessons did you learn?”
   “To accept myself, I learned I didn’t need my friends for approval. Also, I learned to work harder to get what I want. Determination definitely wasn’t something I was born with, remember? I always wanted to give up anytime something was hard.” I smiled and shook my head in remembrance. “Most of all, I finally accepted Dad and knew he loved me even though he lost his temper with some of the stupid decisions I made and the dangerous things I did.”
   “You know, this sucks to the trillionth degree, don’t you?"
   “I know, mom. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt any of you. I wish I could have listened and learned from my mistakes.” He paused a second.  “You know, it’s not like I left you. You’re still stuck with me.”
    I released a long sigh.  “I just miss your physical self and your life experiences." I could feel that he had smiled.  No, I don’t mean the car crashes and the drugs. I miss you talking about your friends, your dates, school and your future. Also, I've missed experiencing that with Nicole too, and that majorly hurts." My eyes well up with tears again. How in the heck am I going to teach today?
   “Sometimes you and I talk more than we did when I was alive the last few years. As for Nicole, you’ll have that relationship with her like you had with me. Just be patient. I say that a lot to you, don’t I? Be patient. Maybe that’s another life lesson you have to learn, huh?”
   I chuckle, “Yea, I’m not very good with that word, but I’ve come a long way with it." I sniffle and blow my nose on an antique handkerchief, something Nicole got me into instead of using Kleenex. "Love you. Have a super day.”
    “You too, mom.” 
   I grabbed my computer and briefcase, looked in the mirror again. Well, my eyes look a little better. Oh, well, my students are used to this look. I slammed the car door.  One of my students was already at my classroom door.
    Ana asked, “Can I help you?”
    “No, I’m okay.”  I tried not to look at her, or she’d notice I was crying.
   “We walked into the room, and I set my stuff down.  Ana followed me to my desk.
    “Ms. B., may I hug you? It sounds like you're having a Kyle day."
     I shook my head, yes, fighting to keep my emotions at bay. I’m always amazed how loving and sensitive the students, faculty, and administration has been at Canoga High School since Kyle passed away. I felt her strong healing arms squeeze me. They seemed to give me strength.
   “Have a good day, okay?” She chirped.
    I nodded, smiled at her and thanked her and swallowed hard. I knew I would.
   I knew my personal counselor would not be there for me every second I dipped into depression, but right now he was the one who’s been helping me keep it together, him and my therapist. Yes, I knew I’d have to give him a lot more freedom. And I knew I was selfish, but I couldn't help it. I understood in my heart that he has his own life up in the heavens, but I wasn't quite strong enough to let him go. Not yet.

78 Personal experiences about the importance of listening

                                                             “Still Lessons to Learn”

    “Wait a minute!” I told my eighth-grade Gifted English class. The decibels had risen so high in my English class where I couldn’t hear the person that I had called upon. Apparently, everyone was adamant about sharing their opinion with their fellow students about the type of communication which existed in their family. We were relating a poem to their personal lives. “Stop! I can’t hear all of you at the same time. Raise your hand. Please.” My eighth graders finally quieted down, so I called on Becky.

    “My parents NEVER listen to me,” Becky complained.

    “That’s unfair. You’re using a global word. That means that your parents NEVER EVER listen to you.” I replied.

    “Okay, okay, they rarely listen to me,” Becky corrected herself.

    I was curious to know how she knew her parents weren’t listening. I didn’t have children yet, so I was hoping to learn something useful. “How do you know your parents aren’t listening to you?”

     “Hey, Becky, I bet you have the uh, huh parents,” one vocal student blurted out. Half the class chimed in as if well-rehearsed, “Uh, huh.”

   After the laughter died down, I said, “Uh, huh, means they’re listening.”

   “Not when they only say uh, huh, don’t ask questions, or don’t even change the tone of their voice.” The crescendo of Becky’s voice rose to emphasize her frustration.

   A voice yelled from the back, “Or don’t even look at you!”

   I was stunned and not quite sure what to say at first.  “Your parents are busy. They have work, and then they have to take care of the house, take care of your little brothers or sisters and then cook. Their minds are on other things.”

   “Ms. B., then they need to tell us that and then set up a time so we can talk to them later.

 Isn’t that communication?” shared another smart student.

   “I think they just get overwhelmed with life so they forget,” was the only reason that I could come up with.

 I decided to turn this problem into a teaching moment.  I explained, “Sometimes it’s best to get feelings on paper. Write your complaint out, wait a few days then reread it.  Remember, you’re not trying to make them mad,  you're trying to communicate your feelings on a couple of important subjects that matter to you. This letter can’t be a letter complaining about everything your parents or guardians did wrong as it will be too overwhelming. If you want some response back and you want some changes, pick no more than two things to discuss.”

    I couldn’t believe the buzzing in the room. The students were so excited. The whole class agreed to write their letter, and if they needed more time, they'd let me know. I realized I that now I had some

homework to do before the students gave their final drafts. I wrote a letter to the parents/guardians

discussing our unit on communication and explained that their homework would be to respond in writing to their teen’s letter.

    A week later I collected most of my students’ letters, this time not permitting their fellow classmates to edit them because I knew there would be some very personal experiences that these students trusted me with. Some students I had to call up to my desk and discuss other ways to say what they were trying to communicate as either it wasn’t clear or there was so much anger that I felt the parents might shut down or become irate.  I spoke to the students who didn’t do the assignment yet, and they either confided that they needed more time or a couple of them shared that they had nothing wrong in their family, so I spoke to them individually.

   Celeste sat in the chair next to my desk. “So your parents are perfect? I wish I had your parents growing up.” She laughed with me.  “You mean to tell me that they don’t get after you for anything?”

   She whisked a curly patch of hair behind her ear. “Well, they talk to me about chores I don’t get done, but I deserve their anger.”   

   I wasn’t quite sure what to say, and then a question just popped out of my mouth. “So your parents trust you to go out with friends?”

   She shyly looked up from her hands. “No, but that’s okay. I have to watch my brothers and sisters because my parents work.”

    “So your parents work 24/7?”

    “Yea, just about.  I have to cook and clean house because I’m the oldest.”

     I waited a few minutes and took a deep breath. “So, how do you feel about that?”

  Celeste looked down at her hands. She started to fidget. “Sometimes I get angry because my friends ask me to go out with them, but I can never go with them because I’m expected to take care of everything. I have a brother a year younger than me who hardly does anything.”

   “Okay, I think you just found a problem. Write about how you feel and what you’d like changed.”

    She got up from the chair and thanked me with a big smile on her face.

     I had set a date for parents to get their letters in but didn't mark the student down when a few arrived late.  The parent letters were moving, apologetic and brimming with love. A few of them brought tears to my eyes.

    While driving home, I wallowed in my glory. Then right then and there I promised myself that I would not be one of the uh huh parents my students had complained about. But alas, two years later I fell into the trap. Actually, I know that I’ve been stuck in the sticky mire quite a few times. However, these are the first two guilty incidents which are forever glued into my memory.

    “Ow,” I groaned as my back and legs screamed out in pain while I crouched perusing the musical scores on the bottom shelf at the Mar Vista library. As a new mother, I was unsure of my one-in-a half-year-old son’s attention span as he sat talking to the picture books he was thumbing through.  After another pang of pains crawled up my legs, I plopped on the hard rough carpet and continued looking for theatre competition scenes.

    I’m not quite sure how long I was engaged in my activity when Kyle started whining. “Lez go.”

    “Give me a few more minutes, okay?” I glanced at him sitting on the floor a few feet from me looking through some picture books.  I continued my search for who knows how long. And then I got this funny feeling, so I looked up from a yellowed music score of Annie Get Your Gun, to see a little fat white pinchable bottom shining brightly, almost in my face. I gasped and whispered gruffly, “Kyle!” He stood up from his bent position, turned his head and gave me an impish grin. I guess he I  was trying to tell me he was bored. I turned to beat red and quickly pulled up his shorts to cover his cute bottom.

    My eyes shot around the room to see if any others had partaken in my son’s attempt to make his

feelings known. “Drat!” I thought. I noted a librarian standing in full view of this embarrassing scene. I sucked some air in wondering what she was expecting me to do. Spank him? Yell at him?

   The librarian pushed up her glasses with her scrawny index finger and raised one eyebrow as she dryly informed me, “I think he’s trying to tell you something.” I watched in surprise, from her slate-like face came an impossible smile.

    I returned the book with shaky hands and stood up while saying, “I think you’re right. I guess my son is  trying to tell me it’s time to go home.”

   “You’re lucky, he’s learning how to communicate early,” and sauntered off.

  I promised myself to not be so caught up in my work that I wasn’t aware of what was going on around me. You see, I was paranoid about being one of those huh huh parents. However, a few years later, my next memorable guilty scene occurred.

   I was preparing dinner and thinking about all the homework I still had to correct that evening. My daughter, Nicole, loved to talk continuously and that day was no exception. She seemed to rarely take a breath while chattering and spoke so fast that sometimes I couldn’t follow what she was saying. She would always be so excited about sharing her day, and I loved to listen to her cute high voice. Sometimes I had the energy to ask her to slow down, however, that night was not one of those times. My four year old whined, “Mama, you not listening to me.”

   I reassured her, “Yes, I am.”

  She quipped back, “No, you not.” I continued to chop the carrots without looking at her. “How do you know “I’m not listening?” I questioned.

   Nicole answered with amazing insight, “Because you keep saying “Uh, huh all de time.”

  My heart skipped a beat as I realized what I had become. Oh my God, I had become an uh, huh parent. I bent down to my daughter’s level, teary-eyed, I hugged her. I looked into her angelic face and saw her concerned look. “You’re right! I’m so so sorry. I made a mistake. Please always remind me when I do that. Promise me.”

   Her dimples outshone her smile. Semi-curly hair bounced up and down as she nodded her head, “I pwamise.” (I loved listening to her mispronounce her Rs.) 

   “Sometimes mommy’s head gets so busy with school business and family things that it’s hard to be a good listener. Tell me again what you were trying to say because now I’m listening.”

       It’s so easy to get too busy with work and life that we aren’t listening to our loved ones. Slow down and always be open to what they need to share. You might not like what they have to say, but remember it’s their perception and their feelings that you have to honor.

Here are 

  

77 - How can we teach our children to handle mistakes and how can we teach them to be responsible?

  

 Judging self or your family members only does damage.

     All too often we judge ourselves harshly when we make a mistake.  We get mad at ourselves, and if we have children, they pick up on this feeling whether you express it verbally, physically or internally. Some kids are so sensitive that they pick up on our negative feelings, and misinterpret them as us being angry with them.
   Our children learn from us. Don’t judge or get angry, often times difficult to do, and even more challenging to teach children. Making mistakes teaches integrity and often times these stumbling blocks gives us an opportunity to look at something from different angles and allows us to think about how to do something differently. Rarely, do we reach our goal on the first try, so why do we expect perfection from ourselves, our children or our partner?                                

Do not judge yourself, your partner or your child when a mistake is made.

    So when your daughter spills her juice on the floor for the 10th time that month, don’t focus on the mistake or the mess which will make her feel bad. Your reaction and your reprimand will taint the way your child feels about herself. More than likely, your child already feels upset about the accident because she knows what should have occurred based on what has been routine already. Most human beings are extremely sensitive so they can feel a judgment even if you don’t state it. Don’t think it. It’s a waste of energy. If you do say something negative to yourself say, “Cancel, cancel” in your head.  And if you say a negative comment out loud, apologize to the person and cancel it mentally.  

 (BLOG #  56   “What happens when you judge yourself or others”)
 https://othersideofloss.blogspot.com/2018/06/56-judging-yourself-and-others-is.html

    Maybe your child took too much silverware out of the drawer while trying to help set the table and he dropped them all on the floor. While helping him rinse them off, ask what he thinks would have helped him not to drop them. Don’t give him the answer; you’re trying to make him think for himself. If he doesn’t have a clue, then you can tell him.

 When a child or partner makes a mistake, say, “That’s interesting.”  (Obviously, this won’t fit every occasion.)

   Let’s say your child was playing the guitar. She’s practicing a particular song for her next lesson, except she plays a wrong chord.   What if, instead of immediately correcting her, you say, “That’s interesting.” Maybe you can use the error as an opportunity to create a different sequence. Or work on how to use that bit she created in another piece.  Yes, ultimately you’ll have to show her the correct chord and progression so she will be able to play the song correctly. But instead of zeroing in on her mistake immediately, you’ve taken away that judgment and taught her there are other possibilities.

Admit your own mistakes

   We won’t send the message to our children or even to our spouse that mistakes are okay to make if we deny the ones we do make. Instead, fess up each time you make one.  Your mistakes can be as simple as tripping up a step, or making a mess when you dropped a dish on the floor or apologizing to your child or spouse for yelling.

    You can also describe times in your life when you made mistakes. While you don’t want to glorify them, you can mention a few of the simpler ones, so your child doesn’t feel alone.

   Admitting our mistakes shows that everyone makes them. However, they don’t define who we are. Rather, we can use them to our advantage by learning from them.

 You can’t rescue children from all their mistakes.

     You’ve asked your child to pick up the toys from the floor, but he forgets and Lester, the family dog, comes in and rips your child’s favorite bear to smithereens.  After your child stops crying and telling the dog that he hates him, what do you do?   

     Do you buy your child a replacement? That’s a BIG,” No!” By rescuing your child from his mistake, you don’t make him accountable. When we rescue our children from their mistakes, we deny them an opportunity to learn a lesson. Why would your child keep his room clean if he knows that it won’t matter because he’ll receive a replacement toy?

   Instead, hold your child accountable. Ask him why the dog chewed up his toy and what should have been done so the dog wouldn’t have destroyed his toy. Make clean up a part of your child's routine.

   We won’t be able to (nor should we) rescue our kids from life’s disappointments. Teaching them how to cope and learn from mistakes is a much more valuable tool than saving them each time.  Honest, I do have friends that are still rescuing their adult children. I used to do the same thing with my son and by his 8th car accident, I stopped feeling sorry for him and stopped paying for his repairs. It infuriated him at first and then I told him he's an adult and I'm not always going to be around. He has to figure out what to do.

 Teach your child to find the reason behind his mistake

    Making a mistake is our best teacher whether we are an adult or a child.  Why?  Because whether the reason for the mistake is obvious or we have to dig deep to find out the reason it happened, it should make him slow down and ask where he went wrong.

   Maybe your child has been staring at her homework for fifteen minutes. That’s not going to do anything as the answer is not going to pop up. Instead, teach your child to analyze where the struggle began, why it happened and then she can correct it.

   Even in high school, my students forgot their French book or reading book for English.  Teach your child to prepare for school the night before.  YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DELIVER THE BOOK TO SCHOOL!  If every Tuesday is a reading day, have your child mark it in the calendar, (if she can’t write, have her place a specific sticker on the day a book needs to be brought.) Then the night before, remind her to look at the calendar, so she knows what book(s) to place in the backpack. Or buy your child some cute post-its (I wish I would have invented those…then I’d be rich.) She can stick it on her backpack, refrig. or front door.

    Mistakes are inevitable. And every single person on this planet probably makes at least one or two errors every day. The important thing is to see them as a learning tool and not to get angry, ashamed or embarrassed at yourself, your partner or your child. Mistakes teach us lessons about ourselves. What’s nice is that we can keep correcting our errors over and over until we finally get it right.

6 Picture Books About Learning From Mistakes   (I used children’s books in high school to introduce a theme in a novel. The teens loved them!)

  An Orange for Frankie, by Patricia Polacco. ...

  A Pair of Red Clogs, by Masako Matsuno and Kazue Mizumura. ...

  The Quiltmaker's Journey, by Jeff Brumbeau and Gail de Marcken. ...

  One, by Kathryn Otoshi. ...

  The Girl Who Never Made Mistakes, by Mark Pett and Gary Rubinstein.   

76 My first experience journeying just like Juan Castaneda, the Shaman

    After we lost a daughter, who decided to escape from all the turmoil in our family to live her own life, and then we lost a son to a heroin overdose a year later, I floated around in the land of limbo for a while. Then slowly feelings came back. Judging oneself and others take a horrible toll on the body and the mind. The pain, the disgust, the guilt, the anger… All spun around in my head from the moment I dragged myself out of bed until I hid in the dark of my bedroom, attempting to hide from the pain.

   I realized I had to forgive myself and my husband. Therefore, it was essential to be aggressive about healing or I would end up in a psych ward or a divorce. Paying three hundred dollars an hour to tell someone my problems and then listen to the suggestions or insights that mirrored my close friends, frustrated me. I wasn’t moving forward: I was trapped in a pit of tar unable to escape.  But thank God. Finally, I found trauma counselors that used techniques that worked for me. And I delved even deeper into learning natural healing techniques.

   One day after having an acupuncture treatment, I walked around the corner of  Pine Tree Circle,  a building with a few retail shops and offices in Topanga, because in front of Desi Yoga, I knew I would find various New Age magazines. I picked up a couple, and a few days later I leafed through them and found a Psychic Intuitive class I was interested in, and an event called the Conscious Life Expo which has an abundance of spiritual and New Age lectures, workshops, and exhibits. I prepaid for an Introduction to Shaman Workshop which would be held in one of the many conference rooms at the LAX Marriott Hotel. Shamanism has always fascinated me, maybe because I have a tiny bit of Cherokee Indian in me. It just seems natural to heal with the elements and animals to alleviate traumas affecting the spirit and body.

   Hank Wesselman is an anthropologist and Hawaiian Shaman. He was a tall man with a medium frame. His neatly trimmed Comic Con beard was almost entirely grey, as was his slightly curly and he had a receding hairline. If I had passed him on the street, I would have never guessed him a Shaman. He lit the incense and explained that it would expedite clearing the room of negative energy and that lighting a candle would help raise the vibrations. All of this would help us travel to the spirit world easier. He asked, “How many of you have journeyed? Maybe about five people out of the eighteen had raised their hand. “To journey,” he shared, “is surprisingly easy, but first, you need to set a goal before you enter into the spirit world."
   He informed us that it's also necessary to play a rhythm instrument at a steady beat before journeying and have someone else play shaman music while you are journeying or play shamanic drumming in the background on your phone or laptop. This steady beat changes the brain waves so that you can travel in this mystical world. He lit a white candle sitting on the table at the front of the room. I felt like a child ready to step into my first roller coaster ride. Hank’s low, soothing voice was effortless to listen to, and the information was intriguing.

    For protection, he shared that we needed to ask our animal guides or angels to accompany us on our journey as they would help protect us and aid us with the healing. If we didn’t have one, we were to ask for our animal guide or angel to show itself and welcome him or her. At the end of the healing, we weren’t to forget to thank the guides for protecting us or any of the elements: wood, air, water, fire, and earth that came into the journey to heal. 

   Hank suggested that we become comfortable, so I stretched out on the carpet with my light jacket covering my upper torso because as usual, the conference rooms are always too cold for me. The drumming began. In the background, I continued to hear Hank’s voice reminding us that as we travel to this magical place to be aware of what arises because many times the elements or various animals might appear to work on the person or the situation. We must remember what transpired since these journeys are symbolic, later we must analyze what they represent. In a lulling voice, Hank guided us to listen to the drum, and as the droning beats became louder, the magical cadence delved me deeper and deeper into a trance, I realized I had entered into the magic world of the Shaman. Sharonda, my wolf, already appeared while Hank was talking.

   About seven years earlier I was drawn to any picture, story or artwork in which wolves were the subject. Someone had mentioned that it was more than likely my animal guide. I didn’t know what that meant so when I arrived home I pulled my laptop out and learned what an animal guide was, how to meet this guide and how to find out his/her name. I had sat on the floor in my bedroom with a candle lit and had played beautiful meditative music in the background, closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths then asked for my animal guide to appear. In a few minutes, in this dream-like world, I opened my eyes. I saw myself seated cross-legged in a clearing. An invisible wall encircled me about ten feet, pushing dense fog away from me as if protecting me. I was barely able to see the limbs of trees drooping from above, I was in the woods. I wasn't frightened, just curious.

   Again, I asked for my spirit animal to show itself. At first, I saw a squarish nose push through the fog and soon its head. The wolf studied me as if he/she didn’t trust me. I asked the animal, “Are you my guide?”

   A beautiful calming voice replied, “Yes.”  Her mouth didn’t open like a character from a cartoon, we communicated telepathically. She must have finally felt safe because she walked entirely out of the fog into the clearing. I asked for a name, and she told me it was Shoranda. She was absolutely huge, maybe about 140 pounds and gorgeous. (I'm used to my 18 pound Scottish Terrier.) She had a white undercoat with a soft grey throughout her coat with distinct black tips around her ears and throughout her body. I remember thanking her for deciding to be my guide, and she had bowed her head. But that’s all I did. I didn‘t know how to journey, so I never used her in any healings.
 
    I wasn’t surprised when I learned that I had a wolf for my guide because I had been drawn to any picture of them and somehow pictures were showing up in magazines or on T.V.  I lingered there in the midst, staring at this incredible creature, my heart pounding as if I had just seen my favorite movie star. It felt so strange to experience this magical world. But I realized this wasn't the first time. When I was young, I remember loving everything about owls and for some odd reason when I needed to see better at night, I would ask for owl’s help and believe it or not, my bad eyesight improved. Don’t even ask me how I knew as a third grader to ask for owl's help. Then in 6th grade, the top runners were competing, I asked for Jaguar to help me. I felt like I had melted into his body. I won 2nd place.   Now I wonder if I had been a Shaman in another life. I am a teensy weensy Cherokee Indian.

  Before I journeyed, I had already decided to work on healing my daughter first. I knew with all the negative feelings that she had internalized and the loneliness she felt more than likely caused her fibromyalgia. Of course, I asked her soul for permission to work on her emotional and physical pain: I didn’t want to push my will on her because I knew it would be considered dark magic if I didn’t receive permission. A soft silky drawn out 'yes' was heard. ( I always asked permission to do Reiki on her long distance and sometimes I received a 'no.')

    In this new magical world, I stated that I would like Nicole’s fibromyalgia, asthma, and emotional pain to disappear. Magically, my daughter materialized, naked, floating about three feet above the river. Greenish-brown water rose and swirled slowly around the top of her paper white ankles. I noticed a wide bank of dirt behind her and a backdrop of Evergreens far from the shore. A dark grey rough rock, the size of a small adult fist, lifted from the river bed and magically scrubbed the white skin on her torso, arms, and legs. It vanished, and I thanked the rock for its gift. Immediately following, a swirl of water rose from the river and spun around her slowly like a top. Once it reached the level of her head, the spinning increased, then rose and disappeared into the endless sky. While I thanked the water, I watched as Nicole's body dissipated into nothingness.
   My heart beat irregularly feeling blessed to be experiencing this healing.  I was ecstatic to be in this magic world. Thinking the journey was over I began to open my eyes, but unexpectedly, Nicole emerged on the shore right in front of me with her eyes closed. A thin black snake about twelve inches long with red spots slid up around both of her legs and around her torso. Stunned, I watched a thin limbless reptile slither into her left eye. I stood there wondering how the heck this could even happen when suddenly I had X-ray vision and observed the snake shrink into the size of a worm and slither around in her brain chomping down invisible edibles. I was stunned by how real everything seemed. I kept thinking as I was watching, shouldn’t I be freaking out? But for some reason, I trusted this world of the Shaman. It felt so familiar. After thanking rock, water and snake for their healing powers, I started to open my eyes when I realized I had forgotten to thank Shoranda for her protection, so I did.

  I opened my eyes slowly, and even though the room was somewhat dark, I squinted as if shards of light from a lighthouse were shooting directly into my eyes.  I closed my eyes again. Such an unbelievable feeling racked my frame. I was delirious. Tears of joy ran down onto the carpet, euphoria, and serenity, a feeling I hadn’t experienced in an Ice Age. I knew I had journeyed before.  Undoubtedly, I had stepped into a world my soul remembered. I now knew for sure I had been a Shaman in a previous life; it felt so familiar, so at home. I was overjoyed that I had relearned another tool in which to help others.  
    There are many excellent books out there to help you practice Shaman, but I also encourage you to get online and sign up for a weekend workshop. It will change your life. 
   
I learned more about traveling in the Shaman world from this book.

75 Cleansing your house of negative energy will help with positive mood and clearer thinking

   Only after I began taking Reiki classes, a natural healing technique, did I learn the importance of cleansing my house. Yes, I’ve heard of cleaning the house, something I rarely have time for, so I pay someone else to do it. But few people have heard of cleansing the house of negative energy. Now that I clear my home, I notice when the air feels stagnant, and the energy stuck.

   The last few years of teaching, I tried to cleanse my classroom once a week; I should have done it every day. Kids who I didn’t know what I had done came and sat in my classroom during lunch or before school, and even between classes. I asked them why they were here because many times their classroom was next door. One boy looked at me and smiled. "Ms. B., we feel so relaxed in this room. Please, is it okay to be here?
   Just think how much energy transpires in the place you are working: frustration, confusion, anger, worry. This negative energy is not only felt by you but also your coworkers.  And  think of the baggage you carry into the home and your worries about the various news that is happening around the world. Your body is on overload.

   There are numerous ways you can pick up negative energy.  If you are driving on the freeway, you pick up tons of it.  Or think about the arguments you’ve either had at work or at home or the negative thoughts and judgments you might have had in the course of one day. The negative energy not only grabs onto you, but it hangs heavily in the air. Ultimately if these negative thoughts continue, holes will start opening in your aura, (your energy field around you) eventually making you mentally or physically ill.  The aura is an electromagnetic field that surrounds every living being. Factors that influence the aura to change colors are emotions, physical condition, thoughts, level of consciousness, and reactions to surroundings.  The colors of your aura constantly change depending on what you say or think. 

   Also, if anyone in the house is ill; it’s time to clear the space. This will remove the stagnant air and help with the healing. I know, I know, you’re thinking not another chore.  Honest, it will only take 5 to 10 minutes to once or twice a week. And if you have older children, you can teach them how to do it. It will make a massive difference in everyone’s mood in the house.  It will also help release anxiety and stress from the demands of life. When you purify your home, you restore balance and harmony to everyone’s life that's living in the house.  

   I like to use Sage because I enjoy the woodsy smell and because it’s easy to get a hold of.  But Frankincense and Copal can also be used. Sage is one of the quickest ways to get rid of that negative energy. It has been a sacred plant that American Indians have used for thousands of years for healing, energy cleansing and various ceremonies.  I prefer the actual dried leaves which are bound together.

                                                                                                                 I love the smell of Sage

     Using Sage and Frankincense is an excellent combo for chasing away bad frequencies. If you don’t like the smell of Sage, Frankincense is an alternative that has a honey-like aroma.  It provides protection, raises spiritual awareness, and will ease everyone’s stress and anxiety.




 

 Frankincense

Copal

   Another alternative is Copal incense. It is one of the oldest forms of energy cleansing. In fact, in the burial grounds at the Mayan and Aztec ruins, large amounts of Copal resin were found. The resin in the tree is known to have powerful medicinal properties after it sits for ten years curing. You can add it to Frankincense or just burn it alone to alter those negative thoughts into a peaceful, positive attitude.

    Many times you can find these incenses at a  spiritual/healing shop.

How to Cleanse Your Home of Negative Energy – Make it a habit

1.  Open all your windows and hook the curtains around something if they’re blocking too much of the window.  If possible, open all the doors. (Sometimes I can’t do this because there are too many bugs.) This will allow all the negative energy to escape. Pull the blinds up or the curtains back to let in the light.  I always do the cleanse during the day, when the sun is shining.  If I’m doing a quick cleansing, I don’t open the windows.

2.  I know this might sound crazy, but if your house is dirty and cluttered……get organized and clean it.  I've walked into three homes of hoarders, and it felt like someone punched me in the gut. I felt so nauseous. Negative spirits love to hide in this type of house, and negative energy gets stuck in this type of environment.  Get someone to help you if it’s too overwhelming. Notice how the energy in the house feels when you have a clean, organized house. If that's too overwhelming, clean one room at a time.

3.  Light the sage, but make sure you have a heat resistant dish or an abalone shell underneath to catch the falling embers.  I ask for my guides to come in to help me. “Please, dear Father, Mother, and Archangel Michael protect this house and let any negative energy be released.” (You can make up your own prayer and you can ask for any of your guides or angels to help.) If you want, as you smudge each room, say a special cleansing prayer or state your intention out loud. (There are tons of prayers on the internet that you can find if you don’t want to make up your own. This will amplify the cleansing.) I usually start in my kitchen and go clockwise around the house. If I have time, I place a cross on each window. Then I walk around waving my sage in the air, corners and in the closets. Rooms, where electronics are on all the time, need more clearing than others.

   Now, this I rarely do but here’s some additional clearing you can do if you have the time or if you have someone physically or mentally sick in the house. 

    Now that your space is clear, it’s time to fill it with positive energy, which is where the sacred Palo Santo, “holy wood” in Spanish, comes in. It has a slightly sweet and relaxing smell. It has been used for thousands of years. This ancient healing wood is known to bestow blessings of love and light. It is harvested from the Palo Santo trees of South America after it has naturally fallen on the ground. It takes between 4 -10 years for its natural healing powers to become potent. (If I remember right, I found this wood a little difficult to light.) Unlike most incense which burns easily, you must continue to blow on the piece of wood. Walk around your home with the holy wood and ask your angels to bless your space with positive energy.

   If you can’t handle the smell of incense:

    Buy some sea salt and place some in all four corners of each room.  This salt will suck up the bad energy and expel it. To boost the cleansing, grind up saffron and mix it into the salt. After about 48 hours, sweep or vacuum the salt and flush it down the toilet.

    Or you can use white candles which have been used for centuries to remove toxic vibes. There are also candles that are made with therapeutic oils, which makes the cleansing effect more powerful. Light the candle and say a prayer, then walk to each room-clearing your space, then blow it out. I prefer using incense, but Alan sometimes has difficulty with the Sage, so I clear the house once he leaves, I keep the windows open for a few hours. By the time he returns, he notices only a waft of the scent.
   Just like everything cleansing will become a habit, one that everyone in the house will thank you.