Its back to school time.  Backpacks, markers, colored pencils, you name it.  The prep works starts earlier and earlier it seems every year.  There always seems to be something new that is MANDATORY and REQUIRED each school year.  One of my favorites is the Graphing Calculator.  Who would have thought that at 10 year old needs a calculator that costs more than an entry level tablet?  Seriously? Because we all know that somehow between one school year and the next, the school supply elf sneaks into our homes and steals it.  Mandating that we buy a new one every year.  Does anyone else think conspiracy? Could Texas Instruments be owned by, oh I don’t know, the government? Of Texas?

As school starts most parents breathe that sign of relief – we did it.  We sent them off with every color coded post it and bottle of hand sanitizer they could possibly use.  We have paid the credit card bill and sit down for the first time in a week.  Then Armageddon happens.

I don’t know how your school works, but ours has something called Schoolspeak.  Its basically a method of insuring that every helicopter parent feels validated and every non-helicopter parent feels totally annoyed.  The evil of the system manifests like this. Every time your 1^st  grader  gets a plus sign in scissors and coloring – lucky you- you get an email announcing the achievement.  And woe to those with multiple kids – you can see as many as 25 emails a day – all usually coming through just as the kids are getting out of school. You may say to your self – send these to spam. But you CAN’T!  You have to open and sign them, acknowledging that little Johnny can cut out a circle.  Life skill alert! 

So what if you still say screw it and don’t sign them?  Ill tell you what– that puts you in the crosshairs of teacher scorn.  That look you get at parent teacher conferences when Ms. Smith (who is herself 15 years old) wants to point out to you that you haven’t been paying much attention to little Johnny’s crafting accomplishments.  As evidenced by the lack of signatures on the virtual report card.

What I would really like to say to Ms. Smith is “listen, get married, have 3 kids – in 5 years, preferably boys and at least two of them with ADHD.  Then you can look at me with condescension for not signing off on the latest assignment.  As long as little Johnny knows to put the paste on the paper and not in his mouth it’s a win-win in my book.”

I wish I could take this opportunity to garner some words of encouragement for all you parents but I got nothing.  Until we collectively as parents realize that our kids can get through the day without a handler we are doomed and so is little Johnny.  So helicopter parents, I encourage you, ignore the emails. Let your kids cut and paste themselves silly and who cares what it looks like.  Otherwise you may end up with a little Johnny that can’t decide what to have for dinner, lives at home in the basement, can’t do his own laundry and needs a parent chaperone for his job interview at age 25.

And to the anti-helicopter parents, take a breath, hit delete and when confronted by Ms. Smith simply say that you are uncomfortable with her insinuations and you need to adjourn to the nearest safe space to collect yourself.  She will understand that, (it is after all the vernacular of her generation), and then march yourself right out the front door of that school.  After all, the sale on calculators ends today and you may need to get  one to have in reserve.

The mood altering aroma  of the freshly cut grass.  The ricochet crack of the pads.  The whippoorwill like trill of the whistle.  In honor of the NFL and its 100^th season tonight I celebrate America’s game – Football.  The focus today is on the professionals.  The best of the best – the elite athletes that play in the NFL of today.  But just for a minute lets look a little closer to home and look at the players in our own backyards (literally).  The mighty mites and the pee wee leagues of Americana. The High Schools under the Friday Night Lights.  Where the game of football advances on a playing field of innocence. 

Parents – get a clue.  You are not raising the next Walter Payton, Brett Favre or J.J. Watt.  You.  Are.  Not.  Your son or daughter is not going to be better off in life because they had 15 more minutes of playing time per game than their locker partner.  They are not going to be better people because you sat and watched (and “coached”) from behind the fence.  They are going to be better because they worked hard, committed to something bigger than themselves and fought for a spot on that depth chart.  I contend that they are even better off when they don’t make the bus for a week or two.  Why? You ask – because nothing in life is a given.  There are no free rides no matter what the current political climate tries to sell us as a society.  There is no Free – someone is paying.  Fair is not equal and equal is not fair. 

Life is messy.  It carries with it the broken bones, stingers, missed catches and double doinks that in every game teach kids how to move over, under or through adversity.  Parents – stop dressing your kids in white and carrying them on your shoulders.  Throw them in the mud and let them get dirty.  Stop making their accomplishments on the field a reflection of your accomplishments as a parent.  Its Not About You. 

It is about young characters with character that get to put on a uniform and feel like Superman stepping out of the phonebooth. Its about knowing that there is no “I” in TEAM. That “WE before ME” can elevate everyone to a higher level of achievement, self esteem, accomplishment and comradery.  That when we teach kids to “Win the Day” we are teaching them to win the day, every day, for life. 

Someone I know preaches “Excellence matters in all that you do.”  And he is 100% right.  I don’t care if these kids become a Nobel prize winners or electricians.  Finish carpenters or neurosurgeons.  If they carry the lessons that the game CAN teach them they will  be the best.  They will win the prize – invent the next great technology – find the medical breakthrough or design the newest skyscraper.  They will be the “supermoms” and “superdads” that their kids can lean on and the parents that get their kids cape pressed and ready.  These kids WILL do because they CAN do – its inside them.  Its our job as parents to teach them to not hide their light under a bushel basket but how to throw the basket aside.  And stomp on it.

So as we celebrate America’s game let’s also bring the celebration home to our backyards  and celebrate the pee-wee bobbleheads and the Friday Night Lights with the same excitement as we celebrate the players on the national stage. Because they are only little for a short time and the game clock is running.

Springtime. The season for Graduations.  Commencement Ceremonies.  Awards Dinners. Athletic Banquets.  In other words it’s the “lets tell everyone how great we are season.”  If you have been fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to attend one of these events you may be like me and sit there thinking to yourself “Self, where did we make the wrong turn that took us down the rabbit hole?”  Let me explain.

This year, I was embroiled in the chaotic amusement park ride known as 8^th Grade Graduation.  First of all, can someone please tell me when did we as a start treating 8^th grade (a legally mandated level of education) as if these 14 year olds have just graduated Sigma Cum Laude from Harvard Law?  Its 8^th grade.  They’re 14.  You’re lucky if they leave the house wearing clean underwear and matching shoes – much less even do the schoolwork that earns them the diploma. 

But here we are, celebrating this “achievement.”  Really?  Now let me clarify – before someone gets mental here – I fully believe that the student who worked hard and achieved the best grades should be recognized.  As should the child that excelled as a member of the class either in Student Council or on the Athletic field.  But this is not now, nor has it ever been, every student in every class in every school.  While this time of transitioning into the High School environment is a milestone in these kids young lives, it is not nor should it ever be portrayed as a defining moment of their lifetime. 

God willing they will go on to become adults, find a satisfying career, volunteer to help the less fortunate, have a family – you know achieve the real milestones in life.  Let’s give them something to look forward to, not a feeling to entitlement and achievement for reaching the wise old age of 14.  If anyone should be getting the awards at this age it’s the parents. 

In fact – that’s my new mission.  Lets make 8^th grade graduation about the parents.  For the parents of the child that always had a lunch.  The parents of the child that always had a gym uniform.  For the parents of the child that completed Science Fair. How about a trophy for the parents that manage to get every form, letter, authorization, tuition payment, room mom form, field trip form and school physical turned in complete and on time.  And not to forget the “extracurricular” awards, dinners made, carpools ran, birthday parties given.  Spoiler alert – I would NOT win either award.  So in closing – Congratulations Parents!  You got them this far – try not to screw them up – and take courage in the knowledge that we are all in the same boat.  Keep Paddling. 

Recently the college admissions scandal has been a hot topic of conversation, with  headlines focusing on the fact that some of the most prominent perpetrators don’t like being called “cheaters” or “guilty.”  Well guess what? – they are on both counts- Guilty and Cheaters.  And they need to get over themselves.   I mean seriously, wouldn’t we all like to have that magic wand to dictate to the world around us?  I want to smart – Poof- I want to be successful – Poof- I want to be innocent of a crime – Poof – I want Designer handbags at 75% off – OK that last one is a stretch.

What was wrong with letting kids try and fail on their own? That’s how you learn.  That’s how you experience the pride that comes with success.  When you earn it – it is yours and yours alone.  Participation trophies are counterproductive – they do not encourage achievement they bolster laziness.  Why work for something if you can just get the same as everyone else by doing nothing?  Stalin much?

Some of the happiest and most successful people I know did not go to college.  Heck, a few of them barely finished 8^th grade but they have something  the privileged and entitled people don’t have – the desire to make it on their own and the self-confidence, success and power that comes from doing just that.  You can’t teach that in a class room – that, my friends, comes the  College of Life Experience.  It comes from a home where chores are assigned are consequences are enforced.  Homes that have your neighbor asking “why are there boxer shorts hanging in the tree outside your son’s window?”.  Simple because when I say clean your room or else – I mean it.

I hope my kids grow up and work to reach their goals but you know what? – I hope they stumble and fall along the way.   Because things given without being earned don’t mean as much as the things we work hard to achieve.  I like to say “get a job that keeps you out of jail and out of my basement.”  If college is the path you need to follow great – but we should never be ashamed of a child that makes it on their own, just down a different path.  Learn a trade – I’ve hired a plumber and believe me they make bank.   Want to write the next Great American Novel? – wait tables – I guarantee you will collect volumes of material.  Have a kid that’s good with Legos?  – encourage them to create- and instead of a new video game for their birthday, let them explore the Home Depot.  We as a humanity need success, it bolsters our society and strengthens our souls – but empty successes are like empty calories – the sugar rush is great but the crash just isn’t worth it.

Snapface, Instachat, the Blue Bird. Just because every picture tells a story doesn’t mean it’s a story anyone cares about.  When did we as a society place the value of (visual) content over character?  When did we so completely start judging others AND ourselves  based on the slant of our noses and circumference of our thighs as opposed to the quality of our character and out attitude toward others.  In short, today, someone can be a complete, total  and narcissistic bitch but if her Instagram posts are stellar its all good?

I saw a news story – again this is considered news- about a self-obsessed couple that travels around the world taking “instaworthy” photos while scamming corporations into supporting them.  For the uneducated, these people are called Influencers.  What do they influence I ask you?   They influence the pre-teen girls that are unhappy with their figures – and I don’t mean their math scores.  They influence the college kids majoring in basketweaving and beer into thinking they can live independently by taking selfies at the gym.   The message is look at me- I’m perfect!  Disclaimer alert – Photoshop Ahead!

It is actually considered newsworthy when a “celebrity” posts an unedited photo.  In other words it is “brave” and “revolutionary” to just be yourself.  Seriously?   If that standard held true for us regular people, my circle of friends would be the most famous people on the planet – in all of our makeup free, pony-tailed, pajama clad ( all while driving the kids to school) glory.

Wouldn’t it be great to go back to  a time where a photo, no matter how awkward, (Why does Uncle Bob look like he’s feeling up the neighbor lady?) or embarrassing (Michelle, I love this photo of you at Thanksgiving eating with your mouth open!) is the reality?  Those frozen moments in time are part of our true histories – thick thighs and all.  Those unfiltered and ugly moments are the ones that build the lifetime of memories.  The  story of “the slap heard round the world” that the neighbor lady landed on Uncle Bob may have been forgotten without the photo evidence.  Those images of a much younger grandma knocking back a G&T while ironing are golden.   What about those sepia toned gems of your dad’s second cousin that would put today’s male models to shame? We don’t remember his name but we remember those abs!

I propose we all try to spend a day looking at the world with our own eyes instead of filtering the world through the cyclops of our camera phone.    Get out and see things without the mental static that comes from social media.  Go into the great big world and just try to remember things – using your brain not with your electronic device.  If you’re really feeling “brave” maybe even talk to someone new.  Imagine that.  I can guarantee you the real human connection doesn’t require a photo filter.

Mother’s Day.  That holiday celebrated every Spring across the USA.  The culmination of weeks of guilt inducing commercials brought to you by every strip mall jeweler,  tchotchke dealer and that grand-daddy of them all – FTD.  If you love your mother…pay up.

The mothers of little ones have it made.   I’m not talking about vertically challenged 20 year olds here, I’m talking about the under 10 set.  They are cute and innocent enough to say “I love you” and not follow it up with “Can I have 20 bucks.”  Mother’s day still has that level of genuine joy where a tracing of their hand decorated to look like a flower is the best gift ever.  The problem is they get older. 

When your little ones are no longer little – that is where you walk the line of being glad they took the time to get you a gift while simultaneously dealing with the fact they used your credit card to complete the transaction.   My personal favorite  is the  “Proud (Insert college name) Mom” sweatshirt that was on clearance (see mom I’m responsible with money) but charged to my card (well you didn’t think I actually had any money did you)?

Bottom line is this – here is the secret – this is what every mom wants – ready???  To be left alone!  Just give us a few glorious hours without  our children chirping like baby birds “Ma,ma,ma,.”  You all know exactly what I’m talking about. That constant refrain from the need machines that we created during our stupider years.  Don’t make that face –  we are all in the same boat here. We grew up with Family Ties and The Cosby Show.  The biggest problem they faced was that Alex P. Keaton couldn’t find his blazer before the big debate or Rudy stole Vanessa’s favorite headband.  We were fed lies I tell you –  Lies!

No one warned us that real motherhood was a never ending carousel of drama: medical emergencies, clothing emergencies,  forgotten lunches, forgotten homework, parent teacher meetings, finals weeks,  and sporting events.   Each one of these DefCon 5 moments,  while manageable on their own – never occur on their own – these disasters are like onions – they have layers.   And they smell and sometimes make you cry.    Real motherhood is the learned but never perfected skill of juggling while riding a unicycle – but only if the unicycle tire is just this side of flat.

Pioneer moms circled the wagons and sent the kids to play in a field.  Moms of the 1950’s taught little Johnny how to shake up a killer martini while little Suzie ran out for a pack of Lucky Strikes.  The moms of the 1970’s problem solved with Tupperware parties, Jello molds and group hugs.  Today we have Starbucks, Facebook and Spin class.  Just hold it together – we will get through it.

I guess that is really the hardest part of all – that one day your work is done.  And then you realize that it wasn’t that bad – that all those “teaching moments” helped you grow as much as they helped your kids grow.  That you didn’t mind driving a used car because the post-braces smiles are worth every penny.  That knowing you sent them out into the world with confidence and a desire to achieve makes the late night trips to the ER just a part of the larger plan.   So today moms – here is my challenge – try, TRY, to just ignore the bickering and the dirty socks – just enjoy your kids.  And take comfort in the fact that one day – if you are lucky – they will have a little one just like them. 

Cooking.  Something everyone has to do once in a while even if it is just pressing Start on the microwave.  For the outgoing and inventive there are entire sections dedicated to the cookbook at any bookstore or thousands of sites online – but perhaps nothing beats the cooking show for inspiration.

Think about it – the power of your remote has the ability to teach you everything from casseroles to croissants.  Brisket to Brioche.  That is if you can watch an entire episode without getting completely irritated by the “chef” hosting the program. 

First of all, lets talk realistic expectations.  If you are watching a cooking show that promises to enlighten you on the methodology of the “30 minute dinner” – we need to expect this show is not for the Cordon Bleu chef in training.  Please do not preach to me about the “gorgeous aroma of freshly grated Romano Cheese” – I’m lucky I remembered to by the cheap stuff found in the same aisle as sardines and chili mix.   This is a about food for life not life for food.  Show me something I can throw together after a full day of work and family.  Something that camouflages nutrition into something my kids will eat.  If ketchup can be included – even better.

Of course there are always shows like “Iron Chef” for those with pent up culinary hostility.  “Barefoot Contessa” if you want a show highlighting an OCD lifestyle with a Xanax chaser.  But my all time favorite show I love to hate  is  “Pioneer Woman.”  This show is hosted by a lovely middle aged woman with cute dimples and lovely smile.  She’s never annoyed, she never overcooks anything, her life is perfect,  – in other words she is medicated.   She spends her time driving an hour to the store for supplies and then cooking for her hard working, rancher husband and family.  Get it – they live in the middle of nowhere – so she’s a Pioneer.  Because historically,  pioneers bonded together over a campfire and their love of a great Le Creuset.  I say it’s a good thing her husband is working the ranch all day because her home cooking is a shortcut to obesity and diabetes.  I’m not a pioneer woman and I don’t want Shamu the whale for a spouse either.  I just don’t think that the “beauty of peaches” means drowning them in a brown sugar and whiskey glaze I could “just eat by itself, all day!”  Its ridiculous.  I don’t want to learn how to make my own applesauce.  Why? Because I have a job that allows me the  hedonistic self-indulgence found in purchasing an economy jar of Mott’s.  The only thing that show pioneers is a new way to launch a cookware line on the home shopping network and a housewares collection at Wal-Mart.

Lets start a cooking show for the working mom.  Lets feature recipes with lists that you can download, print, shop for and cook all within 2 hours start to finish.  They need to appeal to anyone between 2-92, not stick to the pan, be good for freezing and great as leftovers.  If we can somehow work in a slow cooker even better.  In the meantime – I will continue to consider mustard a vegetable and whipped cream a source of calcium.  Now please excuse me – I’m going to go turn on home shopping .  I hear they are having  a sale on Le Creuset.

The weather.  In our house watching the weather is a full time job and some would argue an unhealthy obsession.  Open the windows or close them? Do we turn on the exhaust fans?  When do the dogs go out – don’t want to get caught in the rain.  I find it fascinating that with all of the modern ways to get your weather info, – Google.. Alexa… looking out a window- we still have a need and in some cases a love for the TV weather. 

We will sit in anticipation for a full 9 minutes just to get a glimpse of  “Weather on the Eights” .  There are weather celebrities – people that make their living standing outside in the absolute worst meteorological conditions imaginable just to give the viewers trinkets of excellence like – “its really coming down out here.”  Really? What gave it away Jim? The 3 feet of snow that accumulated in the last 9 minutes or the full size SUV that was just washed down the street in the flash flood?  And don’t get me started on the green screen warriors – the local network news people. 

I get it – this is their job.  And they  REALLY like the weather.  But I challenge you to not only look at the pretty colors and moving radar images next time.  Listen to these people.  “Well you can see on the map we are in for some rainy days” – no I’m sorry but that dark green patch the size of Greenland with the flashing lightening bolt graphic did not tip me off – thanks for clarifying. “As you can see, off the coast here this hurricane is really big,” oh, ok, I wasn’t sure what that large, spinning, apocalyptic thing was about.  Looked cute and fun like cotton candy to me!   And lets not forget that they think we can’t read – or at least recognize the name of our own town.  As the large letters litter the screen “For all you folks in ROCKFORD (insert patronizing tone), you can see here you will have a sunny day (view sun wearing glasses graphic). Ugh.  Don’t forget their record breaking  accuracy percentages.  How can you trust someone that gives  diametrically opposed forecasts when they are showing the North American Mesocale and the opposing European Model.  Simultaneously and with great gusto.

Here’s the reality – its going to be sunny, rainy, snowy, hot, cold and perfect.  If you live in Chicago, all in the same day.  Keep a coat, sweater, umbrella, rain jacket and swimsuit with you at all times and you should have nothing to worry about.  Look out the window before you leave the house for the day – I promise you will be just as prepared, and be 8 minutes earlier for work.                                                                                            

Fitness. A multi-million dollar industry.  You have health clubs, fitness drinks, health food stores, yoga shalas, weight loss supplements and the always poplar home fitness video.  Even since Jane Fonda and the “20 minute workout” came into our living rooms in leotards and shiny hosiery – and  started burning out the retinas of young boys – the home fitness video market has been a staple in the fitness culture of America.

That said, lets talk about the “fitness video.”  First of all can we all agree that the people in the videos do not need the video?  If you ever want to explain to someone what a great physique looks like just pull up a Beachbody advertisement on youtube. I understand the marketing subtext here – use this plan, follow this program, sweat to these oldies and you too can go from fat to fit in just 60 minutes a week.  Make sure to purchase the complete multi disk plan so that just when you think you’re making progress it can kick your keaster all over again.

Here’s my problem with the formula – there needs to be fat and unfit people in these presentations.  Listen, no one wants to join a group where they are by far the WORST example of the desired result.  If you are looking in the mirror at a healthy pair of love handles and then turn on Trixie the Fitness Bunny and are forced to watch her tell you how “you can do it – push to the finish” –  my guess is more often than not you are quickly found pushing to finish that bottle of vodka in an effort to dampen Trixie’s enthusiasm. 

What is my solution you ask? Let’s put some regular people in the mix.    Stick a guy in the back row wearing 3 heart monitors and Velcro strap gym shoes.  How about a lady wearing neon yellow leggings and a sparkly top that says “Hot Grandma” in rhinestones?  And better yet, let them get thinner and more coordinated as the levels increase.  You know – give those of us at home some hope.  Maybe if  regular people can see real time progress they will be believers and truly motivated to improve their personal health and well being.   Lets start a movement to ditch Trixie and bring in Cardiac Bob and Grandma Kathy – and let them lead the real people and their love handles into a healthier life.  Come on – You can do it!  Just get it together and change the world!  Let me know how it goes I need to run to the store – Im  out of vodka.

Facebook.  At first blush, a mystifying and almost cosmic way to connect with those far and near.   A place to start discussion, share photos and life’s milestone events.  A place to make friends – and really who doesn’t want more friends?  Well I’d like to let you in on a little secret – Facebook friends aren’t really friends.  At best they are acquaintances – and at worst they are a bunch of nosy bodies that just want to compare their lives to yours.   Think about it – how often do your “Facebook Friends” call you?  On a phone.  And use their words – think auditory communication not emoji hieroglyphics.  I’m going to go out on a limb here and say not too often  – if ever.

You see somewhere along the line, instead of Social Media bringing us closer together as a humanity it pushed us farther apart.  It morphed from a way to find and connect with people to a way to “one up” them.  Its not about wanting to support others its about posting photoshopped bikini photos and trying to pretend your entire life is sunshine and rainbows and that you have a leprechaun living in the backyard.   Its not about showing the real you its about showing the “friend” you.  BOR-RING.  Facebook took the life altering interactions of real friendship and diluted them.  Because they are pretend friends.   

First of all lets clarify a real friend.  Number one – they have your phone number.  And they call you on it.  With their voice.  Secondly, they not only know the good the bad and the ugly, they are there to support and laugh and sometimes drink, you through it.  Life isn’t easy or pretty.  It doesn’t have a perfect, perky C-cup, washboard abs and a JLO backside.

Life is a mess.  Its hard, and dirty and sometimes it just stinks but it also makes us who we are and teaches us how to appreciate what really matters.  Strength.  Determination.  A job well done.  Real Friendship.  Families both born and created. Finding the love of your life and holding on tight.  Raising children  that find true joy in real accomplishments. You know stuff that you talk about with your friends.  The real kind.

I guess what I’m getting around to is the adage of quality over quantity.  You would do better to focus on the few and far between real friendships that come into your life and leave the “friends” for times you just want to creep on the neighborhood gossip and catch the latest funny puppy video.   Or figure out how you can photoshop last years photo at the public pool to make it look like you’re on a beach in the Maldives.