Are You Afraid? A Message to Daughters, From a Daughter

By Eliza Reynolds

Are you afraid? I know that I am sometimes. There are moments when I have been so afraid of life beginning —like becoming-a-grown-up beginning—because then I might discover that I’m a failure, or a total disappointment, or maybe (whispers an especially dark part of my brain) never truly, fully lovable, except by my parents (and they have to love me).

When I was about thirteen or fourteen, something began to creep up on me—like an itch on my back that I couldn’t quite scratch—and my parents started to drive me crazy (plain bonkers, red in the face with frustration, irrationally ticked off, justifiably loony, and the like). Frankly, most of the time it was for dumb reasons (“MOM, did you have to move the pans so loudly??”) or for reasons I couldn’t understand (“DAD, I don’t want you to ask me about my day. No, I just don’t feel like talking about it!”). My reactions to them, and the way I began to judge them through every millisecond of every day, were new. And I found that after the first flush of anger or frustration passed (and I huffed out of the room or screamed in the confines of my bedroom closet), it scared me. These new changes made me feel, well, lonely.

It began to dawn on me that my parents weren’t the perfect people I had imagined them to be. I wondered: if they weren’t always consistent and on top of it, then what is consistent—always steady and reliable—in life? And if my life is beginning, like I-am-not-a-little-kid-anymore beginning, like in-a-few-years-I-will-be-leaving-home beginning, then what and who can I depend on? What won’t change? What is safe?…

Now, if you met me, walked up to me, and shook my hand for the first time (or even hugged me for the hundredth time), you couldn’t tell on the outside that I was afraid. No, you’d still see a tall, cheery nineteen-year-old, with hair twice the size of her head and feet that defy semi coordinated brain commands. But I’m telling you now what’s on the inside: the fears that line the innermost layers of my thoughts, my heart, and maybe even, if you believe in such things, my soul. These are the fears that aren’t cute enough to whisper under the blankets at a sleepover. I’m not always afraid but sometimes—often first thing in the morning, before I’ve seen anyone’s face, and the alarm is buzzing me into a new day—I feel empty, alone, like the bed is a bit too big, and yes, I feel somewhat overwhelmed by it all. Nah, I’m not an emotional train wreck or a “basket case” either, I’m just being brutally honest. I know you’ll get it, because here’s the secret I think we all know: I think, deep down, we are all afraid.

I don’t mean we are afraid all the time—not every moment. But sometimes in bed at night alone, or staring dismally at another English test, or looking around the dinner table, or scanning Facebook late at night, you and I are afraid. And I don’t think it’s a light passing fear, like that anxiety you get when you pass by that certain dodgy street in town. No, it is a deep question that seems to echo in our very soul, in the very heart of our bodies. And I know I don’t have the answers to the questions that keep bubbling up inside and you may not either (most people don’t). Questions like:

  • Who am I?
  • What am I going to make of my life?
  • What happens when I die?
  • What is the meaning of life? Why am I here, literally, on this earth? Do I matter any more than the ant on the hot pavement?
  • What is love? Does marriage mean you love each other forever? Do I have a soul mate?
  • Why is my mom the way she is?
  • Does God exist? Or “goddess”? Or any other kinds of higher power?
  • What do others think of me? Is this important? Why?
  • What will make me happy? Is happiness the most important thing in life? What is the most important thing in life?…

We will, all of us, have many “dark nights” in our lives—those moments, weeks, or months when we feel utterly lost and afraid in the change, chaos, or darkness that seems to be all around…[They] help me see my lonely or scared or overwhelmed feelings as meaningful. They are there for a reason: these questions, fears, obsessions, frustrations, and the oh-so-human pain all help me grow.

Excerpted from Mothering and Daughtering: Keeping Your Bond Strong Through the Teen Years by Eliza Reynolds & Sil Reynolds, RN. Copyright © 2013 by Eliza Reynolds & Sil Reynolds. Reprinted with permission of Sounds True.

Photograph via Creative Commons

Meet the Music-Loving Solares Family, Bucktown, Chicago

By Lela Nargi

Jessica Solares and her husband, Luis, don’t just teach music in Chicago’s creative epicenter; they live music, too. Parents to 3-1/2-year-old Lucia, who attends preschool at Bucktown Academy, near the Solares’ Bucktown Music studio, the two met at Elmhurst College, where they both studied Music Business —a major Jessica describes as “odd” and also uninspiring when put to real-life practice—before they decided instilling a love of all things musical in tots, teens, and even adults was their ultimate calling.

Although they and their staff teach voice and pretty much every instrument imaginable to school kids as well as the occasional grownup, they describe Kindermusik, an early-childhood-development curriculum for infants as young as, well, 0, as the real lynchpin of their operation— and their first love. Read on to find out why! And how important music is for them, their daughter, and families throughout Chicago.

Why is the Bucktown neighborhood such a great location for a music studio that caters mainly to kids—and that your own kid spends so much time in?
Jessica Solares: There are a lot of other cool businesses here: an art school called Easel Art Studio, a dance place where they teach ballroom—Dance SPA Chicago— a playspace around the corner called Purple Monkey Playroom. We were one of the first businesses on this corner, and just a few blocks down from us there’s a hub with fancy shops, restaurants, and bars: we love Irazu Costa Rican restaurant and Red & White Wines. There’s also a doggie day care, and an auto repair shop, so it’s kind of strange. But there’s always plenty of parking on the block!

What is it that you guys love so much about Kindermusik?
Jessica: When I began teaching at other places, I had students who were excelling above and beyond in their lessons. I wondered, Why are they so smart? It turned out they had all taken Kindermusik classes. I looked into and I liked the concept. It’s not just singing and dancing; it helps with brain and language development, prepares kids for school, teaches them patterning, how to use their bodies. It also gives kids way to express things when they don’t otherwise have the language, because kids can start singing even if don’t know words. It helps their soul. And when we listen to music they can notice instruments: “I hear a piccolo!”

Jessica leading a Kindermusik class“Music helps reading, language, math, abstract concepts, spatial awareness, and teaches kids to work in groups.”

 

 

 

In my own experience as a parent, Lucia and I have a song for every activity, from mealtime and brushing teeth, to bathing and going to the grocery store, to the doctor, to the park, plus feelings and sounds. The songs have saved me countless times while waiting in line or at a restaurant with a restless child!  They are a great, easy, positive distraction that doesn’t need anything but your voice.

Luis Solares: Jessica brought Lucia to a Kindermusik class when she was 1 week old. We were running the business and had to be here, and Jessica was tired of being home. Lucia loves music. She’ll say, “Papa, lets play ‘No Woman No Cry,’ or ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight.’ That’s one of her favorites. She sings perfectly in tune and gets joy out of it. I don’t know if she’s going to be musician; she might be an accountant or a fitness instructor. But we’ve had this time together and music is part of her life.

Jessica: I don’t expect her to pursue a music career.  Our goal at Bucktown Music is the same for all children: that they can be musical children, not child musicians. I want her to understand how music can express feelings and give her a pleasurable activity to release stress. Music also helps reading, language, math, abstract concepts, spatial awareness, and teaches kids to work in groups if they are in an ensemble. So far, Lucia loves singing and playing all of the percussion instruments.

Does she like hanging out at the studio?
Jessica: Yes! She likes to chat with customers, color, play instruments, read books, and participate in whatever class she can!

Is Lucia also learning how to play an instrument?
Luis: Not yet, but we know she’s going to do piano for sure. It’s the most fundamental instrument, the instrument kids can be most successful at a young age. But if at 8 or 9 she wants to play guitar or violin, that’s fine, too.

Jessica: We’ll start her on piano when she is 5 or 6 years old, and it will be important to make it a positive experience for her so that she will want to continue.

What were your backgrounds in music growing up?
Luis: I was involved with the choir, a little band that did performances in church. That was my only association with music as a kid. I moved here for college 17 years ago; I’m originally from Guatemala. It was supposed to be temporary but I decided I loved music and wanted to continue being involved. I used to have bands that performed in local bars and restaurants a couple of times a week. It was a gratifying experience; and it also shows my students you don’t have to be famous to get rewards from music. In fact, I have a lot of adult students—doctors, lawyers, accountants, nurses. They play music to relax, it’s their hobby.

Jessica: My family has a musical background. I have three younger brothers and two of them are professional musicians; one works here now. My dad and brothers are also luthiers, so I grew up my whole life with music. It’s strange to me that not everybody does that. It was so great for me to always play music with my dad, violin, and he played guitar. And we had a family band, Wild Rice. We played hot rock/jazz type of stuff because my dad was big into the bluesy thing. And yes, we have been compared to the von Trapps.

What instruments do you each play and teach?
Luis: Jessica was the lead singer for a band, and when she went to college she played violin in the orchestra but was a voice major, and she’s also good piano player. I teach guitar.

Jessica: A good music teacher should have a variety of things they can do. Mostly, we want everyone to learn a love of music and get inspired.

Visit to learn more about Bucktown Music.

Photographs by Thomas Kubik, TK Photography.

 

Colette Linton-Meyer’s Cobble Hill Ballet is the Happiest Ballet School in Brooklyn

Linton-Meyer and some of her tween ballerinas

by Lela Nargi

There are some obvious differences between the rural Midlands of England, where Colette Linton-Meyer grew up, and brownstone Brooklyn, NY, where she and her family now make their home. Cows, for starters. Cowsheds, for another—including the converted cowshed in which, at age 3, she was introduced to dance by a beloved teacher who taught her students, above all, to love freedom of movement. There’s also at least one critical, but less overt, anomaly: “In Shropshire,” says Linton-Meyer, “there were more pubs per square foot. Here, there are more children.” For Linton-Meyer, more children could only mean: the necessity for a ballet school.

Cobble Hill Ballet, which Linton-Meyer founded in 2003, is a burgeoning business that employs 10 instructors to teach 79 classes comprised of some 800 kids—yes, mostly, but not only, girls—in two dedicated studio spaces within half a mile of each other. But its origins were significantly more diminutive. Linton-Meyer had recently given birth to her first son, Thomas, and was shuttling two hours round-trip every day to a ballet school in Rockland County to teach. “It was ridiculous,” she remembers. “I was pumping in the studio before teaching, and meanwhile, there was no place that taught ballet in Brooklyn. I knew I had to make a transition.”And not only because of the commute. Linton-Meyer, who graduated from the Royal Academy of Dance in London with a degree in Ballet Education, was unprepared for the intensity of the studio in Rockland. “It was competitive, and some kids went on to incredible things,” says Linton-Meyer. “But I thought it would be nice to have some sort of middle ground.”

With her musician husband, Ted, stepping in to help look after Thomas, Linton-Meyer started by teaching an afterschool class in a local public school. But, she says, “It was painful. We were in the middle of a very public auditorium, with loads of people walking through and talking.” In her off hours, she often took Thomas to a playroom at a neighborhood church. At some point, she hit on the idea of asking them if she could rent a space. “They showed me this room upstairs, which had had a fire, and holes in the floor. It was a disaster!” says Linton-Meyer. “But I could see it could be amazing.” The church renovated and indeed, the room did become amazing: a large, light-filled studio with painted pine floors and stained glass windows. All that was needed were pupils.

“I want to keep having this nurturing environment, so that ballet can be in these kids lives for a long time.”

 

 

“I used to tape up fliers along Court Street whenever I could,” laughs Linton-Meyer, recalling those renegade start-up days in the neighborhood. She’d had her second son, George, by the time she’d attracted her first three, tiny, students—including one current 8th grader who still dances with her. She started with one class; then before long was able to move up two classes; then hired her first teacher, known to every Cobble Hill Ballet student as Miss Alwyn; then began using the playroom downstairs at the church as a second studio, dragging toys and furniture out of the way, “Every day, for years,” says Linton-Meyer, the exhaustion still evident in her voice.

The school kept growing, and soon Linton-Meyer had hired several more teachers and was renting out space at three other locations around Brooklyn. “We’d be here one day a week, then two days a week there, and that was kind of tough.” Still, people kept finding her, mostly by that most Brooklyn of phenomena: word of mouth. By 2011, it became obvious that she needed a space to call her own.

What she found was a narrow, high-ceilinged storefront that had once housed a pie shop, along a block of Columbia Street, not far from the East River’s stevedore docks, that nevertheless has a family-friendly appeal, with a popular Mexican restaurant on the corner, a bakery just next door, and a ceramics studio several doors down. For the first time since she’d begun teaching, Linton-Meyer now had the chance to tailor a space to her own specifications. She soundproofed the room, put up a thick dividing wall between the studio and entryway—taking care to add a viewing window (“For the younger kids, it’s really important for their parents to be able to see them,” says Linton-Meyer, “even though the older kids don’t like it after a while.”). She also added an all-important sprung floor, which eases the trauma from leaps and hard landings on shins especially, topped with marley dance floor tiles. When a second space opened up several blocks south and east, in Carroll Gardens, Linton-Meyer did it all again.

Without having to worry any longer about shuffling classes from location to location, Linton-Meyer can now concentrate on the nitty-gritty of making Cobble Hill Ballet what she (and plenty of other local parents and kids) call the “happiest ballet school in Brooklyn.” She and her teachers adhere to a strict syllabus in order to allow her students the freedom to express themselves, but also to see a real progression in skills from year to year. “Dance gets harder as you get older, because of all the technical aspects,” says Linton-Meyer. “You have to constantly work to make it challenging and fun and not-boring, but also to get in all the good barre work, because I want to give my students real training.”

Although she has yet to see one of her ballerinas go on to a career in dance, Linton-Meyer concedes it’s not her primary focus. “In the ‘real’ ballet world, kids are going to class five days a week, and sometimes they hit age 16 and their bodies change and they’re just done,” she says. “But Brooklyn parents are more interested in their kids being well-rounded. And this place is a real community—the girls get to be good friends, and they have the year-end show, with the older kids helping out the younger kids. I want to keep having this nurturing environment, so that ballet can be in their lives for a long time.”

To learn more, visit Cobble Hill Ballet.

Photographs by Roy Beeson

Downtime for Dad?

By Julia Cameron

Today, as a father with two sons ages six and eight, Todd laments no longer having time to read as he pleases. “I haven’t opened a classic since I had kids,” he says. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I resent that. I’m careful not to take my feelings out on my kids, but every time I look at the untouched book on my bedside table, it’s another little reminder that there’s no time for my interests anymore.”

Deciding that there’s “no time” for something we love is a though that is well worth examining. If we decide that there is no time to read for pleasure—because it isn’t important, because it would “only” make us happy—we are deciding that there is no time for ourselves, for our own spiritual balance, and we are making a dangerous decision indeed. Not only are we putting ourselves at being at risk of becoming resentful, we are modeling this behavior for our children.

“I come home from work and want to spend time with my kids,” says Todd. Of course he does. But all kids take naps when they are young, take movie breaks when they are older, become consumed in a project they are focusing on. The trick is to conserve our energy, grab the moments we can, and allow ourselves to spend them as we please.

The act of spending time doing something we want to do as opposed to something we have to do takes courage. Baby steps may be necessary here. Be gentle with yourself, and be willing to try something small.

Giving ourselves fifteen minutes a day that is our own can turn anxiety into optimism. Our children lie down for a nap, and we rush toward the dirty dishes, the unopened mail, the business calls that we haven’t returned. We push our desires away as we push ourselves toward the imaginary finish line of being “done” with our ongoing list of “things to do.” It has been said that the average person has two to three hundred hours of “things to do” to be “caught up.” We will never be caught up. But we can adjust our course in small, daily ways to bring more balance into our lives. When we allow space for our own desires, we discover the unexpected paradox: by taking a selfish moment, we actually become more productive—and more available to our children.

“What book do you crave to read right now? For pleasure?” I ask Todd. He looks away, guilty that he craves this luxury, wishing he hadn’t admitted it to me in the first place.

“Moby Dick,” he says quietly. “But I’ve read it before. I don’t really need to read it again. I’m so behind on everything else—it’s ridiculous for me to waste time re-reading a book for no reason. My kids need me to be available to them.”

“What do you love about Moby Dick?” I prod. I myself have many favorite books that I have read over and over.

“Each time I read it, I see something new. The larger themes inspire me with their constant relevance. I feel connected somehow.” Todd’s eyes light up as he speaks.

“Great,” I say. “You have to find fifteen minutes a day to read Moby Dick. Giving yourself that gift is as important as anything else on your list. Just try it for a week and see what happens.”

When Todd phones me a week later, his optimism is palpable… “My younger son, Sam, was fascinated,” Todd [says]. “He wanted to know what I was reading, what the story was about. I told him I had read the book many times before, and that it gave me pleasure to read it again. I found myself being more patient and efficient at home and at work. I was excited to talk to Sam about the story, and it made me realize that when I was constantly running from one job to another, even when the job was something for my sons, I wasn’t really able to talk to them anyway. To my surprise, no one seemed to mind that I was taking a moment for myself every day. I almost thought no one even really noticed, until I discovered Sam last night, sitting in my leather chair, feet up on my ottoman, with a book in his lap. When I asked him what he was reading, he replied, ‘I’m reading a great book, Dad. It’s about a whale.’ He held up the book, showing me its cover: Pinocchio.”

9780399168819_large_The_Artist's_Way_for_Parents.jpg

Excerpted from The Artist’s Way for Parents by Julia Cameron,  Tarcher/Penguin, Penguin Group USA, Penguin Random House. © 2014.

Photograph via Creative Commons.

Meet Belinda Garza, Matt Hartwig & Graciela, Petworth, Washington, DC

By Christina Bruce

The last “first” time that Belinda Garza and Matt Hartwig met, they were at an engagement party, seated at opposite ends of a large table. Noticing a tall and handsome stranger, Belinda elbowed her friend and whispered, “Who’s that?” She also noticed how much fun the guests on his side of the table seemed to be having. “I loved the people on my end but wanted in on that party!”

First impressions can count for a lot, but not in this case. Garza and Hartwig already met more than once over the years, but those meetings never quite registered until that fateful party. As Garza says more than five years later, “Timing is everything.”

Timing also turned out to be key in finding the airy, slate-grey row house in Northwest Washington D.C.’s Petworth neighborhood that they now share with 7-month-old daughter, Graciela and Spot, a three-year-old Bluetick/Coonhound mix (they think).

While living in Columbia Heights, a busy neighborhood about a mile south, they knew they wanted to find a place “that was big enough to allow us to grow,” says Harwig, an Iowa native who’s director of communications and external affairs at BP America (Garza, who hails from Texas, is vice president of government relations at the Spanish language cable network, Univision). The pair wasn’t initially familiar with Petworth, but after much searching, they finally settled on this four-bedroom house because it had a yard and was close to the Metro, which made for easier commuting. “It turned out to be a really good move,” Hartwig says, “because in the year and a half we’ve been here, it has really changed.”

“Each D.C. neighborhood is developing its own vibe. This one has a nice mix of new people with longtime residents.”

 

 

 

He means for the better. Petworth is one of several neighborhoods in D.C. that’s seen a transformation as a result of the city’s landmark growth in recent years. New restaurants and businesses (including “an actual bookstore that sells books,” Hartwig wrily notes) have popped up within walking distance—and for the couple, so has a community.

“The neighborhood is changing so much, and so quickly, that all the residents are really active in what’s going on,” Garza says. D.C.’s growth has led to the development of New York-style enclaves with their own identities. Says Hartwig, “Each neighborhood is developing its own vibe. This one feels very family-oriented. You still have a nice mix of new people with longtime residents, who have seen the neighborhood go through all kinds of transitions.”

The couple have come to rely on the neighborhood’s active listserv, which advertises everything from schools to goods for sale. But it was Hartwig’s love of basketball that led them to part ownership in a nearby diner. Coaching the son of entrepreneur Paul Ruppert, who owns the aforementioned bookstore as well as local haunts like the upscale pub Petworth Citizen, Hartwig got to know about his latest project, a diner called Slim’s, which is slated to open this August. Ruppert told Hartwig he’d be opening up 45 percent of the diner’s ownership to the community, and Hartwig and Garza decided to take a stake in it—they felt the neighborhood could use a place that was open late, something not common in early-to-close D.C.

Ruppert also owns one of the couple’s favorite new places for a date night, the cozy, popular Japanese-French restaurant, Crane & Turtle, four blocks away from their house. “Small seating, open kitchen, great menu, small plates, good wine,” enthuses Garza.

Homegrown ‘hood-within-‘hood events such as Grant Circle Social, a monthly outdoor gathering, help keep them connected with neighbors.  “People take their dogs, or take their kids,” Garza says. “We take them both,” says Hartwig, adding that the get-together is a nice way to meet neighbors, “because there are a lot of new, particularly young, families moving in.” Hartwig is also on the board of Petworth’s weekend market, featuring farm vendors, live music, and crafts,

Baby Graciela can also be seen about town at “many a happy hour, many a brunch,” Garza says. Hartwig jokes that he’s posted Graciela’s picture at Petworth Citizen on Instagram with the hashtag #babyinabar, a nod to the early after-work drinking scene where strollers are not uncommon.

It’s possible that Graciela’s active social calendar has contributed to what Hartwig calls her “baby FOMO”: Fear of Missing Out. Both Graciela and Spot—a rescue from local nonprofit Lucky Dog who also frequents the nearby dog run and has play dates with other local canines—like to socialize. Spot plunks himself in the middle of the group when visitors are around, while Graciela defies bedtime and makes baby-chat with new acquaintances.

Rock Creek Park, the four-square-mile urban oasis a short drive away, is a favorite for weekend mornings. “When it’s warm, we come back through the farmer’s market on Saturdays, get some coffee and some fruit and pastries, and then we get started with our day,” Garza says.

It wasn’t so long ago that she and Hartwig would have been just getting to the gym at that hour, she recalls. But Graciela and Spot aren’t on the same timetable: “They don’t know what a weekend is yet.”

Photographs by Jeffrey Morris

Child, Please: Memoir of a Daughter

By Ylonda Gault Caviness

I, for one, wanted mama’s approval. And it was clearly a prize not easily won. Mama loved us. Of that my siblings and I had no doubt. But we also knew she wasn’t necessarily in love with us—at least not just because.

There was no cheering our descent down the slide. She didn’t hang with clusters of moms at the playground like infatuated groupie spectators squealing from the stands. Nor did she gush over our every stick figure drawing and plaster them all over the house. Like everyone else’s mother, my mom was happy and sufficiently enthused when we won a spelling bee or some such achievement, but she wasn’t hanging on our words or asking, “You okay?” all the time. I’m pretty sure we took up no more of her energy than was necessary. Without saying so, she let us know we kids could sometimes rock her world, but we couldn’t be her world.

That’s why mama observes my generation of mothers with befuddled amusement. She concedes, of course, that times have changed: We mothers have more complicated lives and our kids face far more dangers. Still, the self-flagellating, all-consuming obsession to raise a child in a fashion akin to a recipe-perfect soufflé is mind-blowing to her. And it’s no wonder. Mothering as an extreme sport is a world far removed from her own sensibilities. When I stop to think about how my friends and I live, here are just some of the ways we differ from old-school motherhood:

  • Mama didn’t run out of the house—as I often do—wearing ill-fitting clothes and no lipstick.
  • She didn’t fret about how well I did in school, how easily I made friends or how good I was in music lessons. (Wait… Oh, that’s right. I didn’t have music lessons.)
  • Mama never hired a babysitter.
  • She didn’t know of, consider, or care about child-friendly explanations for life’s difficulties. “Well. Your Uncle Dave decided to blow his brains out” sufficed.
  • She never let our displeasure get in the way of her good time, dancing the Funky Chicken till her legs tired, oblivious to our tears from embarrassment.
  • Mama didn’t pencil in “girlfriend time”: she relished hours-long, impromptu chat fests whenever Aunt San or Sugar decided to drop by the house.
  • She threw parties at the drop of a hat and took full advantage of our free labor, putting us to work making the deviled eggs and cream cheese celery sticks. (We loved every minute—especially those times Jimmy Mo’ got drunk.)
  • She seldom took our side in a misunderstanding or report of misconduct. If a neighbor, teacher or any other grown-up accused us of wrongdoing, we were presumed guilty until proven innocent.
  • Mama never played shrink. Her lips never formed words like: “Tell me about it” or “How did that make you feel?”
  • Mama wasn’t studying us.

As kids we accepted this reality. It was neither harsh nor troubling; rather, it seemed the natural order of things. As a child you knew you didn’t matter all that much in the grown-up world. If you lay bleeding, someone would probably attend to you. And if you acted out, you definitely commanded notice.  But, by and large, grown-ups were not studying kids. I don’t mean the academic studying that leads to a weird analysis, like “Sponge Bob linked to attention deficits” or “Day care increases aggression in kids.” In southern black parlance, studying means “paying attention to.” And lest my siblings and I get any fleeting misapprehension that we figured into the larger scheme of things, mama was quick to remind us: “Child, I am not studying you!”…

People say I’m a lot like mama. Family and friends have always said I got her smile, her high forehead and cheekbones. Growing up, I was never able to see what they saw. I figured we looked like we were related, but I never grasped the “your-mama-spit-you-out!” so obvious to the outside world. But now, in my 40s, I finally get it. In fact, there are days when a mirror catches me by surprise and I see her staring back at me. Her mouth. Her stance.

But beyond the physical markers, there are glimpses of her mama-ness slowly creeping up on me. It is most palpable—for some reason—now than ever before. Lord knows, my kids have spent the better part of their short lives trying to work my last good nerve. It’s their job, I tell myself. No need to find the just-right response to: Is this a teachable moment? Do I take away a privilege? Do I try to empathize?

No. I just take a good, long breath…Child, please.

Adapted from Child, Please: How Mama’s Old-School Lessons Helped Me Check Myself Before I Wrecked Myself by Ylonda Gault Caviness. © 2015 by Ylonda Gault Caviness. Jeremy P. Tarcher Books, Penguin Group USA, Penguin Random House.

Photograph via Creative Commons.

Lynn Johnson is Empowering Girls Through Go Girl! Theater Camps

By Dawn Van Osdell

This summer across the Bay Area, Lynn Johnson will be spreading a compassion revolution. You won’t find her holding up protest signs or rallying for her cause. Instead, you’ll see her on- and backstage with the more than 600 young girls aged 6 to 14 who are enrolled in her two-week Go Girl! theater camps, held everywhere from Palo Alto and Sonoma to the East Bay.

As co-founder and CEO of Glitter & Razz Productions, the company behind Go Girl! Camps, Johnson, along with her life and business partner, Allison Kenny, strives to bolster these girls’ social and emotional skills and embrace their “girl power” through the creation of their own plays—writing them, creating sets and costumes, and ultimately performing them before an audience. Many of these girls have never before set foot on a stage.

“We help girls develop skills they need to love and respect themselves, to keep themselves safe, to be more empathetic of others, and to make bold and brave choices in their lives,” says Johnson. To do this, she aims to help them to understand and embrace their often confusing, sometimes negative feelings; and appreciate their differences—all qualities and skills Johnson believes will address the compassion deficit she sees in the world. By extension, she hopes to help girls avoid disruptive behaviors, like bullying; and ward off anxiety, depression, and other mood disorders that are often the effects of low esteem.

Lynn Johnson, co-founder of Go Girls! Camps

The power of theater to do this may seem anathema to some but it’s always been apparent to Johnson, a self-described drama geek since age 5. She moved around the Northeast with her parents before settling outside of Boston when she was in the eighth grade. One of only a few African-American students in her new town, she quickly learned what it meant to be different. But she was always at home on the stage, having acted in her first play, called “The Dollmaker’s Shop,” when she was in the first grade; and she found that theater was a way to celebrate differences and to build a better sense of belonging.  “Theater gave me a way to fit in and be part of a peaceful community when I felt like an outsider in every other aspect of my life,” she says. Throughout her school years, she continued to embrace the power of theater “to transform lives,” and has been committed to it ever since.

After studying theater and women’s studies at Northwestern University, Johnson founded a multicultural teen ensemble in Chicago— TurnStyle Teen Theatre—and also performed stories and poems written by children as part of a national tour company called StreetSigns. When the director moved the company to North Carolina, Johnson moved, too. For three years she directed community-based educational programs in Chapel Hill while continuing to perform, until she developed an itch to live in a more urban environment; and she headed west in 2002. “A lot of my friends were moving to Los Angeles, and I thought I’d go, too,” she says. But her plan was derailed when, instead, she took a job teaching summer theater camp in Northern California to be near her brother and sister-in-law, who had just become first-time parents—and met Kenny, a fellow teacher and actor. “She and I fell in love, practically at first sight, and I moved to San Francisco to be with her,” says Johnson.

Eager to continue her work with kids, Johnson worked as a trainer for the Bay Area non-profit, Community Network for Youth Development (CNYD), advising on youth programs in San Francisco while continuing to teach theater with Kenny. With little more than shared experience and a passion for improving young lives, the couple decided to venture out on their own and in 2003 created Glitter & Razz Productions LLC, a theater production company aimed at social change. “We wanted to focus on the impact theater can have on kids, to see what would happen if we helped kids create plays and put themselves in them,” Johnson says. They didn’t need much money to get the company started—they ran it out of their home. Johnson relied on non-profit consulting work and organizational coaching workshops to keep the business afloat, while she taught herself how to run and grow a business. In 2007, the couple moved the company to Berkeley, then again to Oakland’s Rockridge neighborhood, where they settled in and became a community center of sorts. They offered summer camps and programming after-school and during school breaks; and they also hosted birthday parties.  “We were women artists who wanted to give kids a connection to each other,” says Johnson.

“We help girls develop skills they need to love and respect themselves, to keep themselves safe, to be more empathetic of others, and to make bold and brave choices in their lives.”
— Lynn Johnson

They also wanted to create something that would bring financial security. Glitter and Razz was popular, but not lucrative. To stay afloat, they shifted their focus to the most successful, most passion-centric part of their business: their two-week summer camp for girls. “We needed to prune the roses,” says Johnson. “We had a social mission and when we focused on the part we were most passionate about, our business grew.”

It was clearly the right move. Johnson and Kenny have steadily added locations for Go Girl! Camps, which now totals seven; and they saw their enrollment double in the last year alone. ”There’s a real need for social change,” says Johnson. “We care so much and we see our camps truly changing girls, changing their lives.” This year, they’re partnering with Camp Reel Stories, a popular media camp for teens, to offer a more advanced, behind-the-scenes program aimed at tween and teen girls. This program gives rising fifth and sixth grade girls a chance to produce, direct, edit, and star in their own short films. They also offer a Go Girl! Leadership Team, giving rising seventh, eight and ninth graders an opportunity to mentor younger camp participants, fostering their leadership skills and becoming effective role models for younger girls.

 Go Girl! Campers take the stage in camps across the Bay Area. Photo by glitter & razz Productions, llc.

Last fall, in the midst of planning for their biggest camp season ever, Johnson and Kenny became parents to a 6-year-old girl they are in the process of adopting. Johnson admits that the uncertainty of business ownership can be especially stressful for a parent, but says that parenting has made her a bolder businesswoman and conversely, entrepreneurship has made her a better parent. “The skills and the confidence you develop when you build something help you in all of life, including parenting,” she says. “They give you a sense of worth that is so empowering. “ Turns out, Go Girls! Camp, isn’t just about boosting confidence in young girls, but in its founder, too. “I wish every woman could start a business, build something that belongs to them,” says Johnson. “It’s amazing and truly empowering to do what you believe in.”

Lynn Johnson takes a break in San Francisco’s Yerba Buena Park. This summer she’ll welcome more than 600 girls to her Go Girls! Theater Camps.

For more information on Go Girl! Theater Camp, visit Gogirlscamp.com.

Photographs by Matt Mimiaga/stage photo courtesy of Go Girls! Camps

3 Misconceptions About Twins, Busted!

photo by goonsquadsarah
Photo by goonsquadsarah

By Dawn Van Osdell

There’s a lot of contradictory and downright erroneous parenting info floating around out there. We’re not afraid to tackle it head-on!

Societally, we have a fascination for twins, likely because they used to be a pretty rare thing—only about 2 percent of births resulted in twins just a couple of decades ago. But today, due to women having children at an older age and to the continued rise in infertility treatments that often cause multiple births, we’re seeing more twins than ever before. And the likelihood of having twins continues to rise. Even as twins become more common, the mystique around them prevails and feeds misconceptions about what it’s like to be a twin—and about how to parent babies who are seen by the world as part of a pair.

To shed some light on the topic and the misunderstandings around it, we spoke with Joan A. Friedman, Ph.D., a psychotherapist and prominent twin expert. As an identical twin herself and the mother of five children, including two sets of fraternal twin sons, she is uniquely suited to the task. Here she sets the record straight about three common myths related to twin-dom.

Myth #1: Twins are always best friends and soul mates. If mine are not, I’m doing something wrong.

Truth: “There’s an idealized sense of what twins are supposed to be, including best friends,” says Friedman. While many twins are each other’s closest allies, it’s often because they are together so much—sharing a bedroom, classrooms, friends, and family. They are viewed by others—and even by themselves—as a two halves of a whole. If they don’t live up to the stereotypic expectation of being a perfect match, their parents can feel like they have somehow failed.

Rather than try to force an exclusive friendship between them, Friedman says families should recognize that twin siblings are often torn between their strong connection to one another and their frustration over wanting their own friendships. “Break through the stereotype that twins should be inseparable and help them develop individual identities and friendships,” says Friedman. Helping twins individualize will ultimately help them adjust to separate lives when they leave home and go their own ways.

Myth #2: Twins can read each other’s thoughts and feel each other’s pain.

Truth: Friedman, who has talked with countless parents of twins, says she’s heard the claim that twins share ESP too often not to consider it with some amount of seriousness, although she doesn’t buy it. She and her twin do not share telepathy between them and there is, in fact, no scientific proof to confirm that that power exists. How then do you explain it when one twin knows what the other is thinking, picks the same shirt to wear to school, or chooses the same present for a friend?

“They grow up in each other’s face all the time,” says Friedman. There is a familiarity with each other’s personality, reactions, habits, and routines, and there’s a deep emotional attachment that produces a powerful empathy for one another. The phenomenon is similar to the connection an old married couple may have, and their ability to finish each other’s sentences and predict each other’s next step. Like twins, they share a strong tie—though it’s unlikely a psychic one.

Myth #3: Competition between twins is no different than rivalry between singleton siblings.

Photo by pauldevoto 

Truth: More so than singleton siblings, twins are under constant comparison from the world and positioned to fight each other for top dog status. “They are in competition with each other before they are even born, fighting for their fair share of nutrients in the womb,” says Friedman. Even twins who get along well grow up competing for their parents’ time and attention, for dominance, and for independence.

The competition is tough on twins and also on their parents, who often attempt to put an end to the bickering and whining the competition causes by struggling to treat each child fairly and equally. But, “When you’re invested in treating them both the same, it’s a death sentence for all,” Friedman says. She advises parents to avoid seeing twins as a unit and instead, focus on treating them as individuals with unique needs and abilities. “Champion personality traits, abilities, and inclinations and avoid labels and comparisons,” she says. Spending one-on-one time with each twin is also a helpful way to curb the competition.

Although, the rivalry isn’t all bad. “It’s very motivating to have someone to compete with,” says Friedman. “And if someone has to lose, it’s a little easier to lose when you’re losing to your twin.”

Photos via Compfight

DIY Families: 5 Home Projects You Can Do with the Kids

When you’ve got a lot of projects to take are of around the house, your first instinct might be to send the kids out of the house on play dates, or into the yard with their toys. But getting your children involved in working around the house presents many great learning opportunities and, when taught correctly and monitored appropriately, can actually help you get your work done faster!

Below are five easy home projects the whole family can get involved in, from our friends at HomeAdvisor.

1. Painting the walls. You can paint the high parts of the walls; your kids can help cover the lower areas. It’s a project most of them will love, and it also gives them a beginner handyperson’s education in undercoats and how to place tape to avoid painting the baseboards. You will need to supervise them throughout the process, but the sense of accomplishment they’ll feel when they actually get to see the completed room painted a whole new color is enormous. If they’re too little to really help, let them show their creativity by painting smiley faces, clouds, flowers, that you’ll paint over later.

2. Clean out the drains. Drains get stopped up over time, but there’s no need to use chemicals to un-clog them, unless you’ve gotten something major stuck down there. Baking soda, salt, and cream of tartar mixed together into a paste is a concoction that’s safe enough for children to use, and strong enough to get the job done. Let the kids pour this mixture down the drain, then follow it up yourself with a kettle full of boiling water you pour down yourself. Let it stand for 30 minutes to an hour, then let your kids run some fresh sold water through the drain to finish up.

3. Give the mailbox a makeover. Over time, your mailbox can take a beating. This is a great project to get your kids involved in. Wash the mailbox with sponges, water, and mild soap to remove all debris. Then decide: does the box simply need a fresh coat of paint? A new house number? Decorations like flowers or flags? Let everyone in the family have a say—and a hand in making your designs come to life.

4. Plant a container garden. Kids love to get down in the dirt, so why not redirect that enjoyment towards something with an actual purpose? They can create holes for young plants and seedlings, get them situated, and water them in. You can also let them choose some of their favorite fruits and vegetables to plant in the garden—they’ll be so excited to see the plants they’ve chosen shoot up and get bigger day by day.

5. Get them involved in overall house-cleaning. While this might seem like a big chore, you can help kids find a fun way to get involved in the process. Show them how to swish a feather duster around with flair, and they can dust off your end tables and other low-lying areas. You can also make tidying their rooms into a game: how fast can they stack the blocks, or how many dolls will fit in one cubby? Not only does this help you (a little), it helps your children learn good practices that will benefit them through their whole lives.

Ice Cream Jubilee’s Victoria Lai on Retooling the Five-Year Plan and the Importance of Pink Desserts

By Christina Bruce

Five years ago, Victoria Lai accepted what she thought was her dream job. She left a law career in New York City to work at the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) as a presidential appointee working on immigration issues.

Even as a teenager in Houston, Lai, the daughter of first-generation Chinese parents, knew she wanted to make her mark in Washington. She picked Wellesley, the seedbed for women in leadership, for college. She worked on the John Kerry presidential campaign as director of outreach to Asian-American voters. She was, as she puts it, “Doing all the right things.”

Although it wasn’t on her resume, she also happened to have a talent for making ice cream.

But that side interest turned into a future she couldn’t have imagined for herself when she walked into the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services headquarters in downtown D.C. (USIS is a branch of the DHS). “I’m the type of person who always had a five-year and a ten-year plan,” Lai says, but “it was really deflating to find my dream job and then realize it wasn’t everything that I wanted it to be.”

Sitting for a chat a few weeks ago at a table in the airy D.C. riverfront store, Ice Cream Jubilee, that she opened just over a year ago, she reflects on how a home hobby morphed into a thriving business and a huge detour from the national policy career she’d always imagined.

Lai’s love of ice cream is attached to a warm childhood memory. Her father, a neurologist who often worked through dinnertime, would share ice cream with Victoria and her sister when he got home at night.  “It’s what brought our family together when my dad was really busy,” Lai says. “

Lai started making her own ice cream in her un-air-conditioned apartment in New York as a way of indulging her creative side, and continued the habit when she moved to D.C., featuring her creations on a blog that would eventually provide the name for her brand. Even though she had gone so far as to rent a commercial kitchen in D.C.’s NoMa district and was selling her ice cream to two local grocery stores, the pursuit remained firmly “on the side” in her mind.

Things changed when she entered the D.C. Scoop competition in 2013. Making more ice cream than she ever had before—13 gallons, double her usual weekly output—she toted it to D.C.’s Union Market and gave out samples to some 8,000 attendees in blazing July heat. In a field of more than 15 vendors, she won the people’s choice award. “I just didn’t think that I was in that league,” Lai says.

Weeks later, the developers of a waterfront site at Navy Yard, an area booming with new housing and restaurants just a short walk from the Nationals ballpark, asked her if she would be interested in opening an ice cream shop.

When she visited, she found the site fluorescent-lit, with papered-over windows. Even so, she could appreciate how much sunlight the towering floor-to-ceiling windows would bring in, and the beauty of the river view beyond. “If I’m going to dedicate myself to long hours every week, I might as well do it somewhere as beautiful as this,” she thought. “This is where I want to be. It was that conclusion that made me take the leap.” Today, she still feels that same sense of uncertainty about a five-year plan, but in a different way: “I’m sort of at a loss for what’s going to come, but only because there are many more directions to go,” she says.

The Navy Yard waterfront still has a bit of the empty, almost-too-clean feeling of a neighborhood that’s still being redeveloped. Modern glass-front apartments, a movie theater, and a winery/event space are all underway. On a sunny weekday afternoon, a group of construction workers from a site nearby comes into the store, and Lai pauses her conversation to make sure one of her employees hands out water.

In running her business, Lai has lots of emotional and practical support from her husband, Howard Yoon, and 10-year-old stepson, Ian. Yoon, a literary agent who has also blogged about food, helps develop Ice Cream Jubilee’s signature unusual flavors, such as maple rye pecan and salty apple pie. Ian puts stickers on pint lids, cleans the windows (at least, as far as he can reach), and recently opened a pop-up root beer float stand outside the shop.

“My relationship with Ian has grown as the store has grown,” says Lai, who married Yoon this past January after meeting him at a supper club event in 2011. And he’s learning plenty about hard work. “When a kid sees the line and hears the crowd and waits up till 11 p.m. for me to come home,” she says, “that’s a whole lot more tangible than me doing a really hard negotiation or being on an airplane all the time.”

Every week at Ice Cream Jubilee brings new challenges: Whole Foods has already upped its order from early July, and the store broke sales records when its first birthday celebration, National Ice Cream Day, and the arrival of Taylor Swift for two shows at Nationals Park all coincided during the week of July 12.

Meeting the demand is a challenge, given that production happens out of the store and storage is limited. Lai says she has already doubled staff from last year and rearranged the store to fit customers in a double-length line at the counter. Still, Lai is launching a mail order delivery option soon (“I joke that once we do that, then my mom can be a quarter of our sales”) and eyeing locations for a second store.

She’s also constantly coming up with new, sophisticated, and offbeat flavors—Dark and Stormy, based on the cocktail, was one of her recent favorites—and she’s dedicated to using high-quality, local cream. But Lai is also committed to keeping prices as low as possible, and being family-friendly.

“If a family comes here and there is no pink ice cream, somebody’s world is going to get destroyed,” she says. “We hear that all the time: ‘What do you have that’s pink?’”

That’s why a freezer full of cool, new flavors must always have room for good old vanilla and, of course, strawberry.

“Pink ice cream with rainbow sprinkles cures a lot of problems,” Lai says. “If life can be that easy, let’s smooth that over for people.”

Photographs by Jeffrey Morris