As a kid my parents rarely if ever dictated the type of music I listened to, but I remember friends whose only choices were “sanitized for your protection.” Now that I have my own kids, I understand the concern over today’s popular music and the vulgar and sexist material one commonly finds in the music section. Ready to Rock Kids , currently in its 3rd volume, is the product of child psychologist Don MacMannis (Dr. Mac), who takes the concept of children’s music to a new area. The lyrics aren’t merely covers of pop songs; they tackle real life issues that kids often face in school. According to Dr. Mac, his music is designed to cover the gap between “Raffi and Rap” by promoting positive images of kids and effective solutions to their problems. However, many lines seem lifted directly from a Psychology 101 textbook and seemed very strange put to music. For example: “So I went to get checked and the doctor said, ‘Whoa, look at those thoughts in your head.’ So, get out o’ your head, and onto your feet. Click your heels and feel the beat.” I can definitely see the appeal to parents of children who have been diagnosed with specific psychological disorders like ADD and OCD, letting the kids know they aren’t the only ones who have to visit the “thoughts” doctor. However, for the average happy and healthy 4 to 9 year old, the smorgasbord of issues covered by each CD as a whole could leave the child confused. The music itself does include beats and rhythms more complicated than your average song by Laurie Berkner, but when the simple message of one of her songs no longer holds a kid’s attention, I’m not sure this is going to be more appealing. As a parent I’m always looking for new things for the kids, and I try to strike a good balance between learning and fun, usually favoring the latter since I don’t think kids like being barraged with messages when simple play is often what they need most. I also try to assess whether a product goes under or over a kid’s head, again preferring the latter since I remember well not liking to be talked down when I was young — and that’s why a certain purple dinosaur has never made an appearance at my house. In the final analysis, I can’t say this is something that I would see myself buying for my child, but if any behavioral problems became evident, it could become an attractive option. More likely are books that tackle a single issue, like one my wife and I bought for my son called Tails Are Not For Pulling , published by the same company as Ready to Rock Kids , for which our cat has been eternally grateful. Perhaps I just haven’t hit the age where monitoring what my kids are listening to becomes an overwhelming task, but my feeling has always been that the next generation will be ready for music their older brothers and sisters listen to before we are ready as parents. For some, Ready to Rock Kids will be a good bridge as its creators intended, but for others it will take some trial and error to help their kids make good choices. On the web: http://drmacmusic.com Email this to a friend? Tweet This! Share this on Facebook Digg this! Stumble upon something good? Share it on StumbleUpon Share this on Reddit Share this on Technorati Share this on del.icio.us Post this to MySpace Share this on Linkedin Seed this on Newsvine Add this to Google Bookmarks No related posts.

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[REVIEW] Not Quite Ready for Ready to Rock Kids

The journey from child, to teen, to young adult to parent seems to have similar stops along the way for most everyone. When I was in college, during the “age of stupidity” (as a man I greatly respect refers to the ‘60s and early ‘70s), as a love-child and soon-to-be yuppie, I was thoroughly convinced that I would be a different parent to any children I might have than my parents were to me. Naturally, I had all the answers. My parents’ tastes in music, fashion, and politics, my Mom’s “helmet” style hair-do which required weekly visits to the hair salon, were all stupid, old-fashioned, and ugly. It was inconceivable to me that they didn’t dig or see how groovy The Doors, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, or The Stones were. The fact that most of them died of drug overdoses escaped me at the time (e.g. Brian Jones of The Stones in case you think I’ve missed something). The fact that Mick Jagger and his remaining crew still perform when our generation famously said not to trust anyone over thirty is also a lost irony on most of my AARP-aged contemporaries now. So, when I became a parent, I was sure I’d appreciate and respect my children’s tastes because they’d probably be just the same as mine.  I’d enjoy their music, their hairstyles, their fashions, etc.  Of course, my brilliance and confidence about how I’d parent turned out to only be a repeat of my own parents’ experiences with me! As with most expectations, they disappoint. First, there was rap, then tattoos and piercings. And, my favorite, wearing pants that fall down to the bottom of their butts.  While my teen is not allowed to have tattoos or piercings, he makes up for it by coming home with tattoo sleeves penned at school, in class, by various of his friends (Bet you don’t know what that term means. Okay, I won’t make you search on Google, as it won’t be in your dictionary… hmmm, when’s the last time your kid looked up a word in a dictionary, or you did, for that matter?  A tattoo sleeve, as the word “sleeve “implies, is a tattoo that covers the entire arm, up to the shoulder).  Now, as a parent we all know that we have to pick our battles, and my teen son knows that tattoos and piercings are not going to happen in our house.  In spite of it being against our religion, he’d love to have a tongue piercing, a death skull tattoo, or, at the very least, huge pierced earrings, as many of his teen friends have at ages as young as 14. We all watch different screens, in our respective rooms or wherever they happen to be. They can watch movies on a 2-square-inch mobile device. Homework is done while multi-tasking, between texting friends, watching YouTube, and playing guitar.  Ultra-violent and horror movies are among their favorites; anything in black & white is unacceptable. Watching my teen son pull up his pants to cover his boxers, non-stop, truly mystifies me. Is this really an inevitable part of life’s cycle? I suspect yes. There’s no doubt that parenting today has greater challenges than for my parents’ generation.  When I was in elementary school, in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s, they could trust that I could walk to and from our nearby public school with total safety, that the music I’d listen to then (before the ‘60s began in earnest) would contain lyrics that wouldn’t corrupt my youthful ears, that the movies I’d go to would also have values and heroes and villains that reflected a traditional sense of right and wrong.  We watched the same television shows together, as the three networks were our only option, so when The Beatles first appeared on Ed Sullivan, I put up with the opera singer, the Broadway singer, Topo Gigio, and the guy who spun the plates on a stick before I finally got to see The Beatles and their shockingly long hair. But, even with The Beatles, occasionally my parents would appreciate them, like when Paul would sing a song like “Yesterday.” As for my kids’ music, most of the band’s names alone make me crazy.  I’m sorry, but it’s hard for me to appreciate songs by groups or singers called Napalm Death, T-Pain, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, and Cannibal Corpse with song titles such as “Crack A Bottle,” “Hammer Smashed Face,” “Evisceration Plague,” “Chopped ‘n’ Skrewed,” and “Stanky Legg.” What happened?  I was supposed to be the hip parent where all my kids’ friends would confide in me and say to my boys, “Wow, your dad is so cool.”  I’d play for them music that they’d never heard (and they’d think it was so terrific), discuss classic movies and television, and have deep political conversations. Not a chance.  I get the same rolled eyes and glazed over looks that I gave my parents.  I guess it’s karma, it’s payback time, and it’s the inevitable generation gap. Image credit: Paul Peckham Email this to a friend? 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[A DAD'S POINT-OF-VIEW] Tattoos, Rap, and Saggy Pants

You have to laugh at life. But sometimes, life laughs at you. Several weeks ago, I was driving my son, Jackson, to school, trying to convince him to eat his bagel with cream cheese before we reached our final destination, where he’d get a more substantial breakfast. This had become such a routine, it struck me. “Are you tired of bagels and cream cheese, buddy?” I asked. Not wanting to offend me (or his mother who graciously makes the bagels and leaves them for us every morning), he said, “Sorta.” “Tell you what,” I said. “It’s going to mean you have to get up earlier, but I’ll make you breakfast at home in the mornings, how does that sound? We can try that next week.” Well, the first couple of days went off without a hitch. I can cook eggs and frozen waffles just as good as the next guy. On the third day, it was a sausage, egg, and cheese croissant, courtesy of Jimmy Dean. On my way to the kitchen, I had stopped in to wake Jackson up. That would give him time to rally out of bed. I had even seen it work the first two mornings. But on this morning, the food was on the table, but I had not heard a whisper from upstairs. “C’mon, Jackson.” I called up the stairs. “Get down here for breakfast before the dogs get it. I have to get ready for work.” With that, I headed to my room to get dressed, assuming all would go as planned. Life, however, had a different plan. Buckling my belt, I realized I hadn’t heard anything from Jackson. I headed toward his room and a view of the kitchen, calling “Eating your breakfast, buddy?” Someone was eating his breakfast alright. Jake, our 7 month-old puppy. With his paws on Jackson’s chair at the table and his neck stretched as far as he could stretch, he had managed to scarf down every last crumb. Jackson was still in bed. I’m not prone to moments of rage, but I can be bent by the perfect storm. And on this day, at this particular moment, the pieces all came together. And I guess I fell apart. “JACKSON!” I yelled. “Your dog just ate your breakfast. I TOLD YOU to get down there before the dogs got it. Now, get out of bed. And YOU are going to make your own breakfast.” Then a terrible thought crossed my mind, “What exactly would a Jimmy Dean Sausage, Egg, and Cheese Croissant do to the inner workings of a 7-month old puppy?” It couldn’t be good. I had to get the dog into his crate. Now. But puppies can sense emotion, especially when you are chasing them into a corner with fists clenched and the veins on your temples and forehead pulsing. And they’re fast. So he led me on a lap around the downstairs, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom. I closed the door. He cowered in the corner. I scooped him up as he squirmed a bit, held him tight, and walked him down the hallway and down the stairs to his crate. By this time, Jackson was up, dressed, and making his breakfast. What did he choose to make, you ask? A bagel with cream cheese. It was at this moment that the humor of the morning’s events hit me. I struggled to hold back a chuckle. I forced myself to keep the angry dad look on my face, but inside me the rage had melted. All of this started with a bagel. And it had come right back to a bagel. The perfect circle of it all brought me an unexpected feeling of peace. “Take your bagel and get in the car,” I said. “I left my watch upstairs.” As Jackson headed to the door, I stayed back, took a deep breath, smiled and walked over to the dog in the crate. I reached through the wire frame, pet him and said, “How was that breakfast?” I went upstairs to get my watch. I was laughing at life, and now it was time for life to laugh at me. As I turned the corner at the top of the stairs, I took a step and slipped, steadied myself with the banister and looked down. Evidently, I had squeezed Jake a little too hard on his way to the crate. He had dropped a couple of land mines on his way. Hello, Karma. I cleaned up the mess, picked up my watch off my bedside table, and headed to the car–much, much wiser. “How’s that bagel, Jackson? Some morning, huh?” Image credit: Matt DeTurck Email this to a friend? Tweet This! Share this on Facebook Digg this! Stumble upon something good? Share it on StumbleUpon Share this on Reddit Share this on Technorati Share this on del.icio.us Post this to MySpace Share this on Linkedin Seed this on Newsvine Add this to Google Bookmarks Related posts: [LUDWIG@HOME] I-C-E C-R-E-A-M

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Good Morning

When you look back in your own life, many of your memories are likely things that you did with your parents over and over, like attending baseball games or celebrating Thanksgiving. Over the long haul, kids will remember less what you said to them and even less your good intentions, than the experiences you shared together. Make a conscious effort to create memories with your kids. That does not have to mean an expensive vacation, but instead doing things together that have meaning for all of you.  

SMILE WHEN YOU SEE THEM

The Nancy Armato Rule

Antonina’s mother, Nancy Armato, is the ultimate child greeter. She smiles and beams and bursts with pride at the sight of her three children and her six grandchildren. No child who enters her home has any doubt whatsoever that he or she is completely welcome-there is no room for doubt.

Grandma Nancy’s hugs, kisses, compliments, questions about a new toy or shoes, recognition of a sterling report card, or her recalling a goal in a recent soccer game-all are part of her fabulous greeting. Every child gets his moment.

The children around her respond in kind. They feel so loved and welcomed by her that it literally and physically changes them. They open to her like roses bathed in the warmth of the morning sun. She adds a patina of grace to their lives when each one realizes they have given her reason to smile.

Watch your son walk into a

Our family has been playing cards every night around bedtime, sadly often in place of reading a book. But, that’s okay in this case, because we’re playing Whizizzle, a new phonetics game.
Whizizzle is not unlike Crazy Eights except that the families of items are phonetic sounds that players must match with cards with similar sounds. Adults, and other players, are supposed to say out loud the word containing the sound so that smaller players get the hang of the phonetic pronunciation.

The game has a few twists with “action” cards that players can use at any time to change the direction of play to force the next player to draw a card. Trumping almost all strategic action though, is the all-important “change the vowel” card, which allows a player to use any sound, usually to win the game.

We think the best toys and games are ones that can motivate the whole family to play. No child wants to stand around begging adults to play some mind-numbing game that they only play once and begrudgingly. While I can’t say they’ll be adding Whizizzle to Las Vegas card game favorites, I’ve been happy playing Whizizzle almost every evening for the past two weeks. My nine year old loves the game and delights in helping her little brother learn the basics of reading. And, my five year old is just starting to get the idea behind the sounds.

The only drawback that I see for the game is that they could have integrated picture clues into the cards so that pre-readers could associate the sound with a word they could identify. As it is now, my little boy has to wait for us to read what is on his card. Eventually, he will read them too, but for now, all he can do is identify the letter without the corresponding, and very important, phonetic sound.

Whizizzle comes in two packs, 1-3 and 4-6. 4-6 is only slightly more advanced. $14.95 at Amazon.

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There is no such thing as a “typical” host family. If you have room in your home - and your heart - to host a child, you could be one too. Fresh Air Fund Children are boys and girls, six to 12 years old, who reside in low-income communities in New York City and are eager to experience the simple pleasures of life outside the city. More information about hosting a child or donation is available at http://freshairfund-newsrelease.com/.

You have a million photos taking up space on your hard drive, various CDs, and, heaven forbid, floppies. And, yes, you look through them – but what are you going to do with them? Like me, you will do nothing in particular with them other than keep them where they are and trot them out every so often to take a peek by yourself or with others.

Then I received a copy of Adobe Photoshop Elements. And, like all laypeople, I was terrified, because frankly, I’m adept at using a computer, but Photoshopping pictures seemed way out of my league.

Needless to say, I tried the program…and used it and used it and used it. I’ve used it now for a few months; I really wanted to get a feel for the program before I wrote my review. And after I felt comfortable enough, I sat down and made a list of what I liked about it and what I didn’t.

Pros:

• User-Friendliness – navigation and functionality is simple and intuitive.
• A guided editor for new users – this made using the program much less intimidating
• Ability to create Photo Books – these cost a fortune elsewhere and is one of my favorite features
• Drag and Drop Photos – Organizing has never been easier for photographs!
• 3 Ways to Edit – Guided, Quick, and Full – something for absolutely everyone.

Cons:

• Quick to learn, but sometimes hard to figure out exactly what can be done with the picture
• The Organizer was a little slow to load (an inconvenience, but not too bad)
• Until you learn how to use the guided editor, frustration may be an issue if you’re new to Photoshop

All in all, a great program that I’ve had a lot of fun with. If you’re looking for a photo organizer or editor, I think this one is a good bet – even for the beginner. I might not yet belong to the leagues of people who can Photoshop as fast as the speed of light, but I’m confident that I can edit my photos with excellent results.

In general, I like toys that teach – stationary toys that don’t do anything quickly become one-hit-wonders in my household. Instead, I reach for toys that educate in some way – they needn’t be fancy, only captivating.

The Cloud b Twilight Ladybug is anything but a one-hit-wonder. Honestly – it is the one toy that I was thrilled that I had bought and has yet to disappoint. Let’s look at the all around picture of the Cloud b Twilight Ladybug.

Pros:

• Has yet to let me down – entertains, provokes questions, helps illustrate during stories
• Construction – plastic shell is rugged, while the body is soft and excellently built
• Color Selection – 3 colors means 3 levels of brightness and illumination

Cons

• Red Color – the red color selection is almost impossible to see, even in the darkest room
• Star Placement – I cannot find most of the constellations in the mini-guide – it may need to be placed at an exact spot within the room, but I haven’t been able to find it.

In the end, it is up to you to pick out the toys for your child – and for my family, the Cloud b Twilight Ladybug is top choice. From its tough (and soft where it matters!) exterior to the way it lights up the room (and a child’s eyes), I have yet to find another toy that elicits such wonder from children and parents alike.