On Wanting Praise

16 Dec ’11 By

Editor’s Note: I’ve been super lame lately… but these guys have stuck with me. This week we have a great dad and a great writer and a great e-friend… Jeff from Out With the Kids. This week, Jeff brings to us a story of his brother… wait… no.. not really. It’s a story of music… well… no… I guess it’s not really about music either. Just read. It’s great. Thanks for sharing Jeff! xo- Kelly

When my middle brother was about 14 or so he played an acoustic guitar in front of some folks from the neighborhood.  One guy, the father of a boyhood friend of his, laughed and ridiculed his ability on the instrument.  To my knowledge, my bro hasn’t picked up a guitar (or any instrument for that matter) since.  Could my brother have had a bit more of a backbone?  Yeah, probably.  Could my parents have handled the situation in a different way to get him back in the rock-n-roll saddle?  Likely.  Could that guy from the ‘hood not have been such an ass to a young kid putting himself on the line in public?  Absolutely.

 

But this post isn’t exactly about my brother.

 

I am deeply connected to the kid’s music scene.  Some would even say I’m the glue that binds the scene together.  Okay, no one would ever say that.  But I am involved a little bit and happily so.

 

The Grammy Award nominations were announced this week and, in case you weren’t hip to it, kid’s music has a category.  Used to be two, but that’s another story.  You may also not be aware that the kid’s music world is ripe with creativity, diversity and innovation right now.  Long gone are the days of choosing only between a singing purple dinosaur and 4 Australian guys in primary colored t-shirts.  We are currently living in the Golden Age of Family Music.  Yet the 2012 Grammy nominees for Best Children’s Album are not representative of the current vibrancy in the genre.

 

This news had me, and some of my peers, in a tizzy at the slap in the face given to the great ones creating great media for families.  But to be honest, I think it was us non-musicians on the fringe of the scene that took the surprising nominee list harder than the actual music-makers.  We felt slighted because the artists that we champion, the entire genre that we prop up for all to see and respect, were in a way disrespected on the biggest stage with all the bight lights of Hollywood shining down.  We were all ready to tell our story on a national stage, to parlay the annual Award season to convert a few more families and national music critics.  Instead, we are kind of back to square one fighting for attention and for the respect of those who continue to put down children’s music as a viable art form.

 

But this post isn’t exactly about music.

 

Being judged can suck.  And this coming from one who gets paid to do it, to essentially say: this is better than that.

 

We adults, for the most part, can process rejection.  Sometimes alcohol is involved.  Kids, though, they are still figuring out their place in the world, what they can and cannot do well, and are still building their self-esteem and protective wall.  Intentional, nasty blows can take a toll – just ask a child actor.  All children take being judged hard.  When a young person exposes his or her vulnerability by performing for others – be it acting, dancing, or playing acoustic guitar – it can crush them to feel negativity.  Some, like my brother, retreat for good.  This is not to say that a constant praise fest is the answer, not at all, but we must help our children develop a level of confidence from within, to not need so much the admiration of “the public”.  Doing so isn’t easy, and I don’t exactly have the guidebook for this one, because we all want to be loved some for what is it we can do, but to temper that desire for praise with a self-assuredness can go a long way to raising a mentally healthy young person and eventually a stable adult without a drinking problem.

 

I’m no longer a vulnerable tween, but as a passionate kid’s music fan and children’s media critic I too, rightly or wrongly, feel the sting of the hurtful, ignorant “kid’s music sucks” phrase so easily uttered by adults not familiar with the music that would so easily change their mind on the subject.  Short of every single music-loving family giving a few of the great kid’s bands a real chance in their iPods, I don’t know what will ever help me get over it.   I only know that, unlike my brother and his acoustic guitar 35 years ago, I will not quit trying to convince you of its merits.

Find out more about great kid’s music on Jeff’s site http://www.owtk.com

 

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Exposing Myself

6 May ’11 By

*Note from the editor: This week… we’re happy to have Jeff back from Out With the Kids! You can also find him on Twitter @OWTK. Jeff speaks to us about getting over our fears and being an example to our kids. What are some of your fears that you can see manifesting in your child?

My 7-year-old daughter is wildly talented. For reals. I say this not as a casting agent, but also not as her biased father. She, like most young ladies I reckon, prances about the house singing, posturing, and acting our scenes from The Wizard of Oz, Seussical, and other productions running only in the space beneath her unkempt brown hair.

She’s got that crazy skill that allows her to become other characters – real or imagined. During these stints as the Wicked Witch, Gertrude McFuzz, or a kingdom’s humble servant boy, I don’t see my girl. I see whomever she wants me to see. It’s way freaky. It’s also some kind of brilliant.

Unfortunately, the world (as it exists outside my home) may never have the privilege of experiencing any of the above. The mere mention of a ‘Theater Basics’ or some such class at our local YMCA is enough to send her system into shock. Forget actual instruction at a place like the Arden Theater in Philadelphia. You’d think handling the brochure would cause her pants to catch fire the way she flees.

Words will not help me convince her to step out onto that theatrical ledge. Her fears will never be wholly placated with fatherly reassurances. I’ve gotta lead by example, and cross fingers that I’ll inspire her – at some point – to break down a self-constructed wall or two. Leading by example is, um, easier said than done.

Before last weekend, I’d spoken into a microphone exactly two times. Once was as a fresh-faced 23-year-old, at my employer’s company award banquet. I’d won something, I think, and needed to say a few words. The other was two years ago in Kansas City. I was asked to introduce Recess Monkey – a most excellent kindie (kid’s + indie) band – at Jiggle Jam, the nation’s largest and most awesomest family music festival. In front of thousands, and with my girls in my arms, I botched the sponsor’s name and bumbled a Neil Young quote from The Last Waltz, before turning it over to my children to scream the band’s name. Then I made a beeline for the bathroom to change my underwear.

In Brooklyn last Saturday, I was asked to moderate a panel discussion on social networking and fan development at Kindiefest, the nation’s only family music conference. In front of two hundred or so artists, press people and other interested parties, I stepped up to a microphone and…didn’t make an ass of myself. In fact, I think I was sorta funny. Whether they were blowing smoke or not, I was told by many that I was a natural. A star is born!

While standing on stage mingling with the panelists before the 1-hour discussion began, I felt almost no butterflies – a fact that surprised and pleased equally. When I returned home, I excitedly told both of my girls that I’d overcome my trepidations and did a bang-up job speaking in front of a room full of people. Hugs all around!

It took thirty-five years for me to be able to say that I’ve beaten down a deep, dark fear. Here’s to hoping my oldest gal gets to proclaim the end of her most severe anxieties far sooner.

Filed Under: Dad Stalking Comments

The Sneaky Carrot & Good Conversation

1 Apr ’11 By


*Editor’s Note: It’s Friday again and time for some words of wisdom from our dad of the week, Jeff @OWTK! He brings up a good point about raising your children with a broad taste for food by creating an open dialogue. We used a similar approach in our home. How about you? Check out what Jeff has to say about those sneaky carrots!

I’ve never once had to sneak a vegetable onto my oldest daughter’s plate. And never once have I needed to lie and say “its chicken, honey” when it was (wink, wink) cod or halibut or something else decidedly not-chicken on her fork. I kid you not. She tried, and continues to try, e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. Some foods she liked after 1st taste – braised beef short rib, lentil soup, and asparagus (only sautéed, never grilled). Some not so much – hello mushrooms! Her willingness – oh screw it, let’s just call it enthusiasm (!) to broaden her palette has been aided by her handsome devil of a papa.

If it were still socially and politically necessary to do so, I’d plant my flag square in the middle of the kitchen. That’s my domain. There, and maybe only there, I am King. I conjure up and cook most every meal for this family, usually from scratch (thank you very much). And you know what? I love doing it. I’ve shared this crazy joy for food preparation with my eldest girl from a very young age. Yeah, she helps with certain non-dangerous tasks in the kitchen – things like measuring, pouring, and cracking eggs – but more important are the open-ended conversations we have about food. Maybe that sounds massively boring. If so, this next sentence probably won’t help with that. The two of us will chat about flavor combinations and sources of food, the proper way one cuts an onion to avoid tears and the key differences between cooking vs. baking. It’s this dialogue, even more so than the hands-on work, that’s taught her a lot about me and instilled in her the desire to keep her options open where food is concerned. This might just be my proudest accomplishment as a parent.

Her sister on the other hand doesn’t enter into new culinary experiences so freely. She’s not a picky eater, per se, not by conventional kid standards. That’s just not acceptable ‘round these parts anyway, but compared to my first-born the little one is more than a handful. Here’s where I’m at with her as she approaches her 4th birthday: I’ve taken to sneaking peas & carrots – veggies she admits to enjoying, although won’t always eat without a treaty of some sort – into her macaroni and cheese. I know, right? And I was thisclose to adding paper-thin sliced carrots to an egg sandwich recently, trying to pass it off as fancy orange ketchup. Stop judging me!

As much responsibility as I take for the Bear’s openness, I must take an equal share of the blame for the Mouse’s reluctance to allow new flavors and textures to pass through her lips. Those fascinating discussions between my oldest and I… yeah those don’t always happen with the younger one. And when they do, she’s often too busy chasing the cat around the dining room for her father’s culinary wisdom to fully sink in. But it’s not all nurture with that one. Somehow, and it still baffles me how she did it, as an early-eater she’d identify every single foreign substance in her mouth – a microscopic roasted red pepper buried inside a bite of meatloaf, for example – find it amidst all the other food in there, then fish it out with her finger. As amazing as it was gross.

But I digress. My goal isn’t to produce the next Julia Child. Instead, what I’m really trying to do is share with my daughters an important part of myself; a passion I possessed long before anyone had the audacity to call me Daddy.
Success in parenting is awfully difficult to measure, especially early on in the process. What’s easier to see the impact of, and what I think matters a whole awful lot, are the moments spent with your child around a Kitchen-Aid mixer, under the hood of a car, on the driving range, or wherever you’re most comfortable – wherever and whenever you are the most you.

Allowing our children to share in, or at the very least witness, the activities that round us out as individuals will provide more possible points of connection between us and our kids as they age. They’ll see that our lives don’t actually evolve around making them brush their teeth; that we are, you know, a tad more complex than that. And maybe, along the way, they’ll learn to whip up some chocolate chip cookie dough, change the oil in the family car, keep their drives in the fairway, and eat a carrot or two.

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