Relationships & Family

Homework Help

jbloustein — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 09:47:27 -0600

It is 7:30 pm and my son isn’t the only one who needs help with his homework.

He is only in the second grade, so I am not stumped on a tricky math question. I am stressing over how to get him to sit still and concentrate!

If this is life with an eight year old amount of homework, how are we supposed to survive another ten years?!?

So, I turned to Twitter.

Steering Your Kids Right

jbloustein — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 15:33:42 -0600

I grab my car keys off the dining room table, slip my two year old’s feet into her boots and call out to my eight year-old son to hurry up.

“Get in the van, Jackson! We don’t want to be late.”

Yes, it is “taxi” time—and just like most families out there, our family spends a lot of time driving! The car may not be our favorite place to spend time, but at least we are together.

A Surprising Anniversary

jnalewicki — Fri, 19 Dec 2008 11:30:53 -0600

Saturday was my parents' 60th wedding anniversary.

My four siblings and I reserved the fellowship hall at their former church in Dallas for a come-and-go reception in their honor.

I prayed it would be more than a nice little reception. Since moving from Dallas to east Texas, Mother and Daddy had suffered several years of serious health problems in a new town with few friends. Mother deeply needed to reconnect with her old ones.

My Light in the Darkness

msteiger — Tue, 16 Dec 2008 15:21:51 -0600

The summer of my final year of college I worked in New York City, a real woman of the world, commuting by bus from my parents’ house in New Jersey.

One evening on the way home from work, the bus came to a stop inside the Lincoln Tunnel. Traffic was at a complete standstill. Word got around: The entire region was in a blackout.

“Better get comfortable,” the driver said. “We aren’t going anywhere for a good long while.” At least my parents would know what was keeping me.

"Your Time Is Coming"

admin — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 09:33:50 -0600

That day in March 1991 seemed so unreal.

Until then my mind had been all wrapped up in football for more than six months.

Only weeks earlier I'd had one of the greatest thrills of my life: The New York Giants had won Super Bowl XXV. After six and a half frustrating years in the National Football League, mostly sitting on the bench, I'd achieved my goal. I'd been the starting, the winning, quarterback. That was real. But not this...

What Matters Most

jnalewicki — Fri, 19 Dec 2008 13:14:33 -0600

My mother moved into an assisted-living home after Alzheimer's made it impossible for her to live alone. She'd only been there a week when I got a call from the supervisor.

“I hate to tell you this, but your mom's been swiping things from other people's rooms. Socks, candy bars, T-shirts. Nothing big, except that one lady's cross is missing.”

5 Tips to Develop Positive Kids

mcherkezian — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 11:31:06 -0600

I have a confession. Despite the fact that I work to develop positive leaders, schools and teams, I’m not naturally a positive person.

The research says it’s not my fault. Turns out some people are born with a more positive disposition while others are born with more of a negative disposition.

But there is hope. The latest research in neuroscience and positive psychology demonstrates that we can mold our brains and ourselves to be more positive, which is great news for me and my children.

The Stitcher's Prayer

batch — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 20:21:21 -0500

Everything looked just right for Mom's visit. The bathroom was clean, the floor polished and dinner was in the oven.

Then she swooped in. Before long she was pushing the vacuum down the hall and re-washing the dishes by hand. Soon the aroma of her fresh-baked rolls wafted from the kitchen and the kids were trying on the new clothes she had made. A pink nightgown for Keely and matching outfits for the boys. Gown, trousers and vests, all expertly tailored. Mom never gave anything store-bought.

Daisies Daily

test_1 — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 18:11:40 -0600

He came clutching a handful of daisies.

He came just as he did every day, passing the nurse’s desk, where I worked, down the hospital corridor to his daughter’s room. She was nearly six now, shut away in a world of unconsciousness and coma.

Yet sometimes I heard him, as he sat by her bedside, talking to her about her dog or her brother or even the weather.

A New Discipline Spin

jbloustein — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 12:42:21 -0600

I am not sure when it got the name time out, but I am fairly certain parents have been using this discipline favorite since Adam and Eve’s firstborn began to toddle.

But how can we make time out effective? And how long should a time out be?

One common assertion is that a child should remain in time out one minute for each year of age. That is the method that TV’s Super Nanny preaches and that I have been using since my son turned two and I began using time outs.