Tar Heel Born

On the way home from school about a month ago, LJ asked me, "Mom, who is Coach Shoo-crew-skee?"

"You mean Duke's coach?" I asked.

"Yeah ... him," sneered LJ. "I can't stand that guy!"

LJ can't pronounce his name, but at age 8, he already has a healthy disrespect for Coach K and his team.

I don't think LJ could even pick Coach K out of a lineup with Sidney Lowe and Roy Williams, but that's beside the point.

LJ is what I call a Tar Heel born.

I, on the other hand, am a Tar Heel bred.

I was a big-time Tar Heel hater as a kid -- even through my early teenage years. Once, I actually cheered for Russia over UNC in an exhibition game.

And that was all because of my older brother, TJ. At some point in my childhood, TJ came home from school announced that he wanted us to be N.C. State fans. His reason? Because everyone else at school was a Carolina fan.

So I too grew up as an avid Wolfpack fan ... one of my first sports memories is running through our house screaming with joy when the Cardiac Pack capped their miracle run in 1983.

It wasn't until I decided to go to college at UNC that I began to bleed a different color.

It took me nearly 18 years to become a Tar Heel, so I wasn't taking any chances with LJ and Julianna. There was no doubt that my kids would be Tar Heels from the day they were born -- like it or not.

Jack and I started brainwashing the kids while they were still confined to the crib. LJ's first bedtime story was The Dean's List. Julianna's first teddy bear was adorned with the UNC logo.

And little known fact ... but the "J" in LJ actually stands for "Jordan."

Whatever we did in the early days, it seems to have worked like magic.

As evidenced from our home videos, Julianna is well on her way to being a Tar Heel cheerleader. And LJ takes to heart every Carolina loss (football, basketball, fencing ... it doesn't matter).

In LJ's closest hangs a mint condition UNC t-shirt from last year's Final Four. Even though he insisted that we buy it for him, he refuses to put it on.

When I finally asked him why he wouldn't wear it, he folded his arms and frowned.

"That shirt is embarrassing, Mom, and I am not wearing it," he said.

"What are you talking about?" I responded. "It was a huge accomplishment to make it that far. Going to the Final Four is not embarrassing."

"But UNC didn't actually win the Final Four," said LJ. "So I am not wearing that. I'm only wearing a National Championship shirt."

Point taken.

Now that's what I call a fan.















Raising 'em up.

A Religious Experience

Last weekend, we traveled to Atlanta for my cousin Micah's Bar Mitzvah. Although I am Jewish, this was the kids' first visit to a synagogue. Since it was our family's first time attending a Jewish service together, it was truly a religious experience for us all.

Shortly after I turned 13, I was also a Bat Mitzvah, and I have fond memories of the entire experience -- from the service itself to the endless stream of parties that followed.

But, of course, that was 20+ years ago. This is now, and everything (including a Bar Mitzvah service), must be considered from the perspective of a mom ... who has two human pogo sticks ... who believe it is sheer torture to remain in one place ... for more than 30 seconds at a time.

I decided to mentally prepare LJ and Julianna for sitting through the two-hour service by briefly explaining to them what a Bar Mitzvah is.

Then, I told the kids they would need to wear "nice" clothes to temple. (For LJ, wearing a collared shirt is torture akin to sitting still). I also told Julianna she would need to wear a dress.

"Great," she said. "I will wear my fanciest dress!"

"Which one is your fanciest dress?" I asked.

"My green one ... my Christmas dress!"

I sat silent as I considered what to say next.

Fortunately, LJ took care of that for me.

"Christmas is a Christian holiday, Julianna ... you can't wear that dress to temple."

Excellent, I thought ... he GETS it!

"Temple is Jewish," said LJ. "You have to wear your Chanukah dress there."

Then again, maybe not.

On Saturday morning, we headed to the Bar Mitzvah. And I should note that during the 15-minute drive to the temple, LJ must have asked us at least four times, "Are we going to the ancient temple?"

Once we arrived at the modern-day Temple Sinai -- in our fancy dresses and collared shirts -- we lingered in the lobby as we waited for my parents to arrive. LJ picked up a program for the service and started glancing through it. Julianna, ever the social butterfly, immediately approached an usher who stood by the entrance to the synagogue.

"Hi," she told him. "I don't really know if I'm Christian or Jewish."

Oy ve!

I mumbled something about me being Jewish and her father being Christian, but I doubt the usher heard me because he had to be laughing out loud on the inside.

"That's okay," he said to Julianna. "Are you happy?"

"Yes, I'm happy," she said.

"Well, that's all that matters. As long as you are happy, it doesn't matter."

Excellent advice for Julianna, to be sure.

Embarrassing for me nonetheless.

The kids were very well behaved during the Bar Mitzvah service. Micah did a wonderful job, and I think the children learned a few things about their mom's ancestry.

That night, we all attended an amazing party at Turner Field with great food, a terrific DJ, and much to LJ's delight, an open bar (He is not usually allowed to have soda, so the unlimited refills were a special treat).

During our road trip back to Raleigh, I asked the kids what they most enjoyed most about the Bar Mitzvah weekend.

"The scrolls," Julianna said, referring to the Torah. "I liked the scrolls."

LJ, on the other hand, was still relishing his sugar rush from Turner Field.

"The drinks at the party," he said.

"How many Sprites did you have anyway?" I asked him.

"Actually I had Shirley Temples -- four of them," he responded.

"Wow -- then I guess you had your fill, didn't you?" I said.

"Yes, Mom, I did," he said.

"Surely," he smirked, "I had enough temples."

Dishing it Out

A couple of weeks ago, Jack and I decided it was time for the kids to have daily chores. And not just the "stop hitting your brother" and "no more pulling your sister's hair" kind of chores.

In our fantasy world, LJ and Julianna would obediently and happily complete their assigned duties. They would never complain and would rarely need prompting.

In other words, the exact opposite of when I was a kid.

I was around Julianna's age when I was given daily chores. By far, my least favorite chore was unloading the dishwasher. To this day I still dread it and I will do anything to avoid it.

In fact, I hate it so much that sometimes, after opening up a clean dishwasher, I will cringe, close it, and pretend I didn't see that it needed unloading.

Keeping in mind my own history of chore misery, I was determined to make this a "fun" experience for my own kids -- this would not mimic the same drudgery in my own childhood.

Jack made a colorful chart to hang on the fridge so the kids could check off their daily progress. (I guess, for some reason, we thought this would make it more enticing).

We decided to start small, build momentum with sure success, and gradually add chores to the list until our kids were ironing our clothes, making our coffee, and scrubbing the toilets on a daily basis.

After considering a long list of possibilities, Jack and I decided that LJ's chores would be:

• Feed Viking dinner every night
• Put dirty clothes in the laundry basket every day
• Clear dishes from the table after all snacks and meals

Julianna's chores include:

• Put dirty clothes in the laundry basket every day
• Clear dishes from the table after all snacks and meals
• Help unload the dishwasher at least 3 times per week

Yes, you read that correctly. I assigned Julianna the exact same chore I hated so much as a child.

Not surprisingly, our efforts at raising responsible, helpful kids have already backfired.

After LJ breezed through the first week of his chores, he seemed stunned when Jack printed out a new, empty chart to hang on the fridge.

"What do you mean there's a new chart?? I thought we only had to do this for ONE week."

More proof from LJ that Rome, indeed, was not built in a day.

For Julianna's part, she was genuinely excited the first couple of times she helped unload the dishwasher. In fact, she wondered aloud why she only had to do it three times a week.

By day four, she audibly groaned when I requested her help putting away the dishes.

Then, while helping me, she dropped a bowl on the floor.

No harm, no foul ... but LJ couldn't resist chiming in.

"Julianna knows that if she drops something and breaks it, she won't have to unload the dishes anymore."

Julianna insisted that wasn't her motive, but perhaps LJ was right. Maybe she was subconsciously trying to get out of her dishwasher duties.

Tonight, her protest was far less subtle.

"Mama, I really don't like unloading the dishwasher. I'd like to choose something else. Yes, I'll start making my bed every day instead. That would be better."

I told her no. She would have to stick with the dishwasher. And I haven't relented ... yet.

But I suppose it serves me right that Julianna is just as unenthusiastic about unloading the dishwasher as I am.

After all, as my mom has always said ... don't dish it out if you can't take it.

Super Commericals? My Kids Weigh In

The common marketing logic is that puppies and babies sell. In fact, since the pets.com sock puppet made its debut in 2000, it seems like every other commercial includes a talking animal or a stock-trading baby.

As the Steelers were preparing to handle the Cardinals in Super Bowl XLIII, I was wondering how my kids would rate the commercials ... puppies, babies, and all.

I know that kids under age 10 aren't the target audience, per se, but children look at the world through a different lens. So what do they see when it comes to the big game? What kind of impact do those $100K per second, $3 million, 30-second spots have on America's future spenders?

Thus, I decided to conduct a very, very unscientific experiment with LJ and Julianna. I asked them rate the Super Bowl commercials on a scale from 1 to 10 (10 being the best).

Mind you, this experiment was not without its trials and tribulations. At one point, LJ saw a commercial that disturbed him so much (the Castrol grease monkey chimp kissing the guy), that he declared: "Now that one makes me want to stop watching commercials and only watch the game!"

Nevertheless, we made it through the first half with the kids viewing and rating every single ad.

So, what was the verdict? Which ads did the kids love the most? Below are LJ's and Julianna's ratings.

Note: Only the first half commercials were rated because second half is past their bedtime!

Super Bowl XLIII Commercials
LJ's & Julianna's Top 10

1. Doritos - Crystal Ball
2. E*trade - Talking Baby
3. Pedigree - Crazy Pets
4. Pepsi Max - I'm Good
5. Budweiser - Clydesdales Stick
6. Firestone - Taters
7. Cheetos - Chester the Cheetah
8. Movie Trailer - Land of the Lost
9. Bud Light - Meeting
10. Audi - Chase

You'll notice a theme in my kids' top choices. Their favorites, in every instance, included:

• bodily harm and/or property damage (Doritos; Pepsi Max; Firestone; Land of the Lost; Bud Light; Audi)
  
  OR
  
  
• talking animals/babies (E*trade, Pedigree; Budweiser; Cheetos)

I'm not really sure what all of this means for LJ's and Julianna's future spending habits. But one thing is painfully clear about their tastes in advertising (and my parenting abilities).

My children love to see people get hurt, stuff get blown up, and smart-ass animals and kids.

Now isn't that just super?

As the World Turns

In the pile of Saturday's mail were our Ravenscroft re-enrollment agreements for the 2009-10 school year. It's funny because even though I know my kids are doing fine in school, I always feel an odd sense of pride and relief when I get that letter saying "we still want your kids."

And I've heard other parents say the same. It's like we need to be reassured that our kids are actually as great as we think they are.

As I flipped through the agreements, my mouth dropped open when I looked at LJ's. There, typed in bold ink, were the words "3rd grade."

Somehow, seeing that on a formal document just took the wind out of me. Third grade just sounds so old. So grown up.

Then, after I got over the shock, I experienced a moment of panic.

I remember from my experiences as a babysitter and a big sister that the first day of third grade marks the exact moment at which your child become smarter, funnier, and more worldly than than you.

Or so they think.

It's like third grade is the tidal wave and I am the shore. I can see it coming, but I am powerless to stop it.

On Aug. 19, 2009, the first day of third grade, LJ will embark on an era of bossiness and know-it-all superiority that can only be surpassed by me.

Yes, it's true. I gave my third-grade teacher at Ravenscroft, Mrs. Bobbitt, a run for her money.

Although I challenged Mrs. Bobbitt unmercifully throughout that school year, the time I remember most vividly is when I stayed home sick on a Monday.

When I returned the next day and we were in "circle time" reviewing the calendar, Mrs. Bobbitt marked off Tuesday.

I promptly raised my hand and confidently stated: "Mrs. Bobbitt, today is Monday, not Tuesday. You marked off the wrong day."

"No, Penny. Today is Tuesday. This is correct."

"No, Mrs. Bobbitt. You are wrong. Today is Monday."

"No, Penny. Today is Tuesday. And just because you missed a day of school doesn't mean the world stopped for you."

Whoa.

In front of my friends, Mrs. Bobbitt had put me properly back in my place. And rightly so.

Her words obviously had an impact on me as they have stayed with me to this day.

So here I am as a parent, 25 years later, with LJ racing full speed ahead toward third grade ... and I'm tiptoeing on eggshells. Of course, in my heart, I know that LJ will do just fine.

The mere fact that he has never been wrong will serve him well as he navigates the sometimes choppy waters of third grade.

I can only hope that if -- on the off chance -- LJ ever gets out of line as a third-grader, he will be lucky enough to have a teacher like Mrs. Bobbitt. One to remind him that things are not always what they seem.

The world will not, in fact, stop spinning on its axis just for LJ ... it's merely the sun, moon, and stars that shine because of him.


First day of Kindergarten (2006). Where does the time go?



















Julianna's first day of pre-Kindergarten at Ravenscroft. She stayed home sick.