Father’s Day is here!

To me, a father represents a line that should not be crossed.  As the mother, loves unconditionally…  This framework is balanced, if the mother and father work as a team 24 / 7.  Imagine that!  Each moment, you are using synchronicity (masculinity and femininity) to set and accomplish goals and strategies.  Begin decision making from your gut, throughout your heart, then intellectualize it with your head.

Cranium = small% / 100% human experience

I think each parent must play the mom & dad roles simultaneously; ideally, you are sweating off anger and fear, as you live and breathe.  A parent’s love is critical; administrating child development with compassion   To allow a child to foster love and thanks, each parent is setting an example.  I admire all parents, especially those looking into their children to find gifts, lessons to learn, etc.  You are love….  Thanks.

My dad is alive inside my idealization.  He lived, not as an emotionally reactive hand slapper; He watched me make mistakes and helped me learn from them.  He dreamed huge dreams for me, and he shared a few…  I miss him because he showed me:  love and thanks.

Fathers can show you where you have stepped out of line, without making you feel inadequate.

Dads can make you feel like a hero, despite a coward-like disposition.

Here is a SHOUT OUT to say “Thank you!!” to all Dads, especially those who love being Dads!

Did anyone feel the joy of family this holiday?

My family of four traveled across the states for a one-week holiday.  We jumped from grandparent to grandparent.  Each visit delighted the senses — and brought challenges.  After a while, our physical exhaustion and emotional highs and lows began to concern me.  Each day, another round of Christmas cheer was to be had — no matter what our physical condition.  When we returned to California, my husband and I were drained and caught a 24-hour stomach flu (thankfully, the kids didn’t get it).

Next year, I plan to do restorative yoga before and after every holiday event.  I’ve studied breathing techniques and meditation derived from the practice of Hatha Yoga.  Breathing into a calm state, despite the emotional and physical challenges of parenthood, usually allows my goals as a parent to remain consistent with my actions.  In 2009 I may have slipped, but I plan to recommit myself to the ideal, now.  Instead of pushing down feelings, yoga allows me to understand, learn and let go of emotions.  And, believe it or not, as I’ve gotten steadier I’ve witnessed an increased steadiness in my children.

Soon after I recovered from the holiday travels and illness, I saw a anti-socialism bumper sticker in the grocer’s parking lot.  The sticker had a picture of President Obama’s face with a clown face painted over it.  This bumper sticker has stayed in my mind but not because of the socialism message.  It stayed in my mind because it reminded me of something about parenting.  Like politicians, parents lead families through all imaginable circumstance; and often, we try to insist that everyone keeps a happy face painted on.

Parents and kids seem over-burdened by a need to fake happiness, whether its holiday cheer or everyday stuff.  I see parents paint on happy faces and teach their kids to do so in order to be popular or to seem like they have everything together.  This past holiday, I saw myself paint on a smile, and I’m sure my kids picked up on the falsity too.  I admit, it’s not what I want to teach my children…

Maybe every time we feel friction in our social surroundings, instead of faking a smile, we should look deeply into ourselves for answers and creativity.  Detachment from perfectionism and appearance may give you and your child the space to be honest.  When I let go of my ego, I am free to bond with my kids in truth.  2010 seems like a perfect year for being real and finding true joy.

The other day, I overheard a conversation some new moms were having about emotional bonding and wearing babies in slings.  You probably know the theory:  an “attached” parent should remain physically connected to the baby day and night — as much as possible.  There is a school of thought that wearing the baby is the best way to parent.  I bought into this theory and connected myself to my first child physically and emotionally around the clock.

By the time he reached the age of one, he knew how to have his every need met: me.  This is normal and even good. Babies should rely on their parents. However, as it continued on into toddlerhood, I was starting to wear thin. As soon as I confirmed my pregnancy with my second son, I realized I need to make a change or I wasn’t going to survive.  Attachment is good, parent participation is great but I, like many moms, was more than attached; I was a doormat.  Okay, maybe that’s being a little harsh, but let me describe it another way.  Super-charged positive mom tries to please her child from morning to night.

Attached parenting is great for an infant but what happens in toddlerhood and beyond?  For me, I wasn’t able to discipline properly.  And I felt like a zero in the personal growth arena. How could I grow if my every moment was consumed with meeting the needs of my child? I believe personal growth is a need of every individual: man, woman or child. If you’re a doormat to your kids, you will not grow and you will not teach them how to be self sufficient, fit into a social environment and think of others before themselves.

Attached parenting, beyond infancy, leads to confusion.  The child will stay confused about their his or her place in the world. It leads to using the parent as a doormat and also a grandiose sense of self entitlement. Under these conditions, the parent will lose sight of their parenting goals.  My point is that I’d like to hear more people talking about detachment out here. Have you ever considered that maybe, among certain demographics, parents are just a little too attached at times?

Christy Camp

*Editor’s note: See the girl in the background of this picture of Miley Cyrus? She has the appropriate response for teeny bopper clothing of this sort!*

Just recently, I was clothes shopping with my 14-year-old daughter, and I had déjà vu from the time she was six. Every year, we have the same battles over what is appropriate.

Flash back in time, eight years.

Glitter, pleather, low-rise bottoms and high-rise tops. We are talking rock star fashion for a six year old. I’m sorry, I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, but that horrid, horrid shopping day, I was looking around to see if there was one that could come and pick me up.

What is the point of dressing our little girls like mini-prostitutes?

Little girls want to look like their idols. Since the idols generally use their sexuality to earn the all mighty dollar, it is up to the parents to have some taste. Fine, I can hold up my end of the deal, it is my job, not Brittany’s, or Miley’s. But, short of becoming a seamstress, which honestly, there isn’t a shred of hope for, what do I do? Should I write my congressmen, demanding they ensure some non-whore clothes are available for little girls? I’m pretty sure they have more important things to worry about.

With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, I convinced my daughter to try one more store.

“But I like the off the shoulder purple with the feathers and these cool shorts.  Look, you can see my belly button!”

“My point exactly.  Let’s go.”

The next store, the last frontier, the last hope, was a gold mine! Peasant blouses and capris!

“Are you sure these are cool, mom?”

I didn’t tell her that my mother used to have a blouse just like it. But, was I ever happy this style came around when I needed it most.

Funny how what used to stand for rebellion and the sexual revolution, is now the most modest thing to be found, anywhere. Sure, she looked like a strange and intriguing combination of  Gidget and Joan Baez. But she also looks like a little girl, and there is nothing more beautiful than that.

Now, it is eight years later, and my daughter and I have gone back to school shopping for her Freshman year of high school. Skinny jeans, sandals and cute tops. Not the shorts with the butt cheeks hanging out. There was a bit of begging, a bit of whining, but secretly, I think she was relieved.

And do you know what happened at school? A senior boy came up to her out of nowhere and said, “I just want you to know that you are the only girl at this school who isn’t dressed like a whore. You look cute.”

Can you believe it? She came home on cloud nine. A boy, a senior boy, had not only talked to her, but had complimented her. Stay tuned for the next chapter, the one on senior boys.