I will forever and always remember when I got in trouble for saying my first curse word. I was in kindergarten, and one day was trying peel a pear I’d picked from a tree in our backyard when I commented “this pear is as hard as a damn rock.”

My mother, in the next room asked me what I said and I repeated it, innocently wondering why she had that look on her face. I was sent to my room and told never to use such language again.

Damn was just a word I’d heard some big kids use on the school bus, and I think I was throwing it in there to sound like a big kid myself. I had no idea it was not permitted in my house, even though I’d never used it heard there. (I can still count on one hand the times I’ve heard my mother curse, and one of those was when she got her finger under the needle of the sewing machine!)

I got to thinking about all this again recently after we spent a family movie night watching Julie & Julia. It was a PG-13 movie with no nudity or violence, but there was a scene where two women talk about being a bitch, and there’s one (really unnecessary) use of the F-word.

I don’t like my girl to hear bad language, but there’s only so many G-rated movies out there (the only ones I think you can count on to not have bad language, it seems lately) and the story was a good one.

My course of action for dealing with this sort of thing has always been to point out to her the words that are not acceptable in our house - so that she will avoid the fate I had of not knowing I was doing anything my parents thought wrong. But, I have to wonder, if hearing that language too often makes it “not a big deal” and therefore all the more acceptable for her to use when she wants to be a “big kid.”

I really began to think about this the next morning as I heard my husband discussing the topic with his mother and saying that “bitch” is becoming not such a bad word anymore.

I pondered … it wasn’t that long ago that my girl was learning at preschool and grade school that “stupid” was a bad word. If she and her playmates heard someone use it, they reacted as if they’d said something horrible. Is this the same society that will come to feel that bitch is a socially acceptable word to use to describe someone? 

No matter that I tell her differently, or even that I model it by not cursing in front of her, Harvard psychologist Steven Pinker says that children are far more influenced by their peers.

And they will be influenced by what they see and hear on television and movies. Heaven help us when it’s foul-mouthed kids like the character Hit-Girl in the recent movie “Kick-Ass.”

What’s a parent to do?

Image via Creative Commons by Carolyn Tiry.

Yesterday, we were at a pool with some friends, who have two sons.

The parents are both the quiet, studious, orderly type. And the first son has followed in that train - his internal wiring, from birth, was a reflection of the disposition of his parents.

Not, however, his brother! Right from the get-go, this kid had wilder eyes. And as I tossed him around in the pool, it was obvious that his circuits remain wired quite differently from those of his brother. Same parents. Same upbringing. Very different wiring.

I’ve seen this countless times before. You look at the lineup of kids and say, “Yep - clearly all one family.” Then you experience the personalities and you’re left scratching your head. “How did this couple produce that??”

We do have a tremendous responsibility to shape, to mold, to instruct, to guide - but the longer we go on as parents, the more we realize that there is a layer of wiring in each child that cannot fundamentally be reversed. Some kids are astoundingly sociable. Others are quiet and hesitant. Some come into the world shaking their fist at all around them (including you, Mom or Dad!). And some insist, from early on, that they’re going to learn every lesson the hard way.

It’s the easiest thing in the world for a parent to feel guilty about how their kids are turning out. Some negligent folks probably ought to feel MORE guilty than they do! But there is a level of false guilt that can be discarded. When the sperm and egg meet, there is something magical that happens. Unique and unpredictable wiring. We may be dealt a hand that is quite unexpected. Powerboat parents may get canoe daughters, or vice-versa. Everyone ends up happier when we just learn to play with the hand we’re dealt!

This past week, I had the pleasure of having a backyard lunch meetup with some local bloggers, and one of them brought along her daughter (about 8-9 years old). I had met this little lass before, and knew she was smart as a whip, and full of conversation.

Although lots of adult-ish talk was going on around the table, I made some time to interact with this little sweetheart, and what I remember most is her bright and active eyes. Behind which, quite evidently, was a bright and active mind.

She liked to spell. I gave her the word “disintermediation.” She launched into an attempt to spell it and only missed one letter. She then went on to take a shot at the old standby, “antidisestablishementarianism.” And did great with that one, too! She couldn’t wait to trot out “tintinabulation” (look it up), which she had down cold. As Darth Vader would say, “Impressive!”

Which leads me to think about one of the greatest privileges and joys of parenting. Those bright eyes. Those curious minds. What was once just two cells not long ago is now absorbing and processing so much, at lightning speed (except if it’s homework…). Yes, it can be annoying at times - my 8-year old is peppering us with questions constantly when we’re just trying to watch something on the screen. But obsessive chatter aside, what an awesome experience it is to feed, and shape, and interact with a little mind. To look into eyes as they light up with comprehension. To realize that, as your own eyes and mind dim with age, you’re leaving behind another light who may well out-illuminate you.

That’s why we do this gig.

Confession: I’ve never had much use for cheerleaders.

Anything that smacks of efforts to whip up the crowd has always earned an instinctive disdain. Maybe I have emotional issues. Whatever.

Last week, however, I had the privilege of sitting next to a mother who was, in a very genuine sense, a cheerleader for her children. As a Dad, I was fascinated and richly encouraged.

Getting onto the flight to Chicago, I was preceded by a Mom shepherding her two young boys onto the jetway. Turns out she was stuck next to me while her boys were across the aisle (same row). When you’re a parent, you immediately notice well-behaved kids. I noticed.

I also couldn’t help noticing the bright and cheerful disposition of their mother. All thoughts of perusing the reading material I had stashed away for the flight soon disappeared as we were immersed in conversation the entire way to the Windy City.

This radiant and enthusiastic lady was an authentic cheerleader for her kids. Her actions and disposition toward them were like a breath of fresh seaside air. She loved her husband, her boys, and her role as a Mom. When I told her my wife and I had 5 boys, she make a very sincere cheerleader-like gesture and exclaimed, “You rock!!!”

Little did I realize how much I needed that simple cheer!

In the row ahead of us was a mother having a very difficult time controlling her child. The contrast was unmistakable.

I need to be a better cheerleader, a more encouraging coach, a teammate out on the field with my boys.

Dads can learn an awful lot about being better Dads…from Moms. And maybe we all need a little cheering on to rock it better!

Sometimes, as my kids get older, I find myself fast-forwarding to what I hope to tell them later.

When they’re ready. Like, when they cross the threshold and become parents themselves.

This is what came to mind this morning:

When you have your own little ones, your job is…

- to give them legs strong enough for the long haul.

- to make their arms sturdy enough to provide for themselves (and others).

- to nurture their innate abilities in whatever positive direction that leads.

- to mold their minds into the path of knowledge AND wisdom.

- to shape their hearts to be both tender enough to read others’ pain, and stout enough to bear their own.

- to stiffen their spine to stand up for themselves and for others who need them.

- to never give up seeking to model all of the above, no matter how feebly and imperfectly.

That is the exhilaratingly painful privilege - the joyous responsibility - of being a parent. It was my parents’ role, and my role, and now the torch is passed to you.

It’s your true legacy.

A review of Avatar, a PG-13 movie that avoided an R rating because the female avatars, while naked, do not have nipples, and hide their cleavage with an endless supply of fabulous statement necklaces from Forever 21 .

OK, full disclosure: I’ve had an issue with James Cameron ever since “Titanic” beat out “The Full Monty” for best picture years ago. I mean, yes, “Titanic” was visually arresting, and we were all happy to see a cheeky 88-year-old actress admonish Bill Paxton as the film opened. But can you recall one scene that you held in your heart six months later? Now, think about when our down-and-out brits were standing in the unemployment line and started to dance to “Hot Stuff” as it played over the loudspeaker. You were so emotionally attached to their plight, that you wanted to dance with them in solidarity, no?

You see, I prefer stripped-down, simple movies that permeate every cell in your body as opposed to special effects, but that’s just me.

Anyway, back to Avatar. It sucked. I mean really sucked. I did not see it in the theaters, and I’m sure the 3-D was cool in that roller coaster, ‘I’m going to throw up’ kinda way. But the characters were as dimensional as the sheet of paper they came on, and the acting did little to bring them to life. The dialogue was so wooden, it was like…well, you know…wood. And the whole affair is so laden with hollywood plots I half expected Harrison Ford’s avatar to show up and pilot us into hyperspace.

But then there’s the creepy, and the just plain sad. First, the sad. Sigourney Weaver plays a potentially fascinating chain-smoking, exhausted brainiac with attitude to spare; her avatar, on the other hand, is a sinewy doe-eyed coed with a cropped baby tee that says Stanford across her perky breasts. I kid you not. Wouldn’t it have been more interesting to have a Marlboro-packing avatar in Pandora’s pristine rainforest? I think so.

Now, the creepy: During the “How to Tame Your Dragon,” “Eragon,” “Name Any Prison Movie” subplot, the male protagonist must “mate” with a dragon against the animal’s will in order to control his every move. Huh. There’s a word for that…(fingers tapping)…what is it?

Anyway, by all means, rent it, fold laundry to it, play drinking games during it. Just don’t expect any special effects, like complicated characters, gripping story lines, and out-of-work british steel mill workers line dancing to Donna Summer.

Last night my (all be it overtired) girl had a major meltdown and laid two tons of guilt on me because she was, apparently, the only first grader who didn’t have a parent come to any of their field trips.

This, after I’d just left work an hour early that day to go get in lake water and ride an tube behind a boat with her. This, after I’d taken off half a day of work last week to paint faces at her school field day.

I tell ya, I don’t get no respect, no respect. (she says in her best Rodney Dangerfield impression)

I know I’m not alone in dealing with this sort of thing. If you Google “mom guilt” it returns 2,350,000 results. One of the top results is another blog named workingmomsagainstguilt.com. In a BabyCenter survey, 94 percent of moms said they feel shame over issues ranging from the amount of time they spend with their kids to the kind of diapers they use.

And while the recent article “31 Reasons You Shouldn’t Feel Mom Guilt” is pretty funny (#3 reminds me of last night’s meltdown and #22 hits a little too close to home for my husband’s taste), it doesn’t really do much to assuage my guilt over having the only child (yeah, right) who didn’t have a parent come on a field trip in first grade.

So, what will I do? I will count my blessings for a flexible workplace that rewards me for results instead of face time and I’ll leave early today to make the last hour of this field trip/end of school party at the park.

How do you deal with your Mom Guilt? And, is there such a thing as Dad Guilt?

If you have read my articles or my personal blog, you know that I love to scrapbook. I originally started collecting scrapbook supplies when I was pregnant with my older son, Nicholas. My friend had done a book each for her daughters and I loved the idea, so she got me started with some basic supplies. And then being pregnant sort of took over everything, and then having a newborn took over anything that was left. Despite gathering supplies, I didn’t really start to scrapbook until after Mark died.

A small part of the reason I started scrapping after Mark died was because I was trying to hard to keep my mind occupied after Nicholas fell asleep and I was alone in our apartment. There are only so many people you can call in the middle of the night before they fall asleep on you. The biggest reason I started scrapping after Mark died was because I was scared I would forget him. I latched on to scrapbooking as a way to “save” Mark for Nicholas.

That is one of the reasons I was so intrigued when I read about the Good Grief Blog recently. The purpose of the blog is “a scrapbooking journey through loss and healing.” If you scrapbook or have ever seen someone else’s scrapbooks, you know how effectively the craft captures stories and memories. If you scrap like I do, the journalling or storytelling part of the process often comes before the corresponding photos. To me, the memories are best captured through the journalling, and writing has always been my best therapy.

The layouts on the Good Grief Blog are beautiful and the stories are touching. Amanda Probst started the Good Grief Blog after her father died in a farming accident. I recently talked with Amanda about scrapping, grief and her blog.

Sherry Carr-Smith: Why did you start the Good Grief Blog?

Amanda Probst: I started the Good Grief Blog for two reasons. First, it helps me. I’m one of those people who really benefits from deadlines, so challenges are awesome motivation. Through the challenges on the blog, I hope to continue to push myself to scrapbook about my dad and am stoked that I’ll get to share that journey with others…and be inspired by the fabulous contributors there.

My second reason for starting the Good Grief Blog is that I truly believe that this is what my dad would want. He’d want me to live my life and remember him in this way, not dwell on what could have been. I feel like this is his message that he wants me to share, and I’ve always trusted my dad.

SCS: Why do you think scrapbooking helps with grief?

AP: I think that grief is such a very personal thing. For me, though, scrapbooking is a therapeutic outlet for my grief. Through it, I can work through things I especially miss, things I wish could be different, things I want to remember. I am also able to document and celebrate my dad’s life so that my sons won’t completely miss out on knowing their Papa. Basically, it gives me the power to actually “do” something rather than just dwell on my sadness.

SCS: How do you suggest people capture memories?

AP: I suggest people capture memories in whatever way works best for them. That’s kinda the point. It has to work for you, not for everyone else. I’d also suggest taking it one memory at a time. It’s easy to become overwhelmed and I know many people steer away from scrapbooking about lost loved ones for that very reason. By taking it one memory at a time, though, it all seems more doable. For me, taking it slowly like this actually makes me feel like my dad is still with me for even longer as I continue to tell his story. It’s not something I’m in a hurry to “finish” because then his story would be done, if that makes any sense.

SCS: Do you see people scrapbook about the moment of a loved one’s passing?

AP: This isn’t one of the topics we’ve covered as of yet on the Good Grief Blog, though I can envision it being a strong challenge. This one, in particular, would be a very emotional layout…one that not every one is willing to face just yet.

SCS: Anything else you think would be helpful to encourage widowed parents to capture memories either through scrapbooking or other means?

AP: Mostly, through the blog, I’ve found that so many women write to me to thank me for one of two things…showing them that they’re not alone and/or showing them that scrapbooking about loss can actually make them feel reconnected with that lost loved one. More than anything, I truly believe that sharing your loved one’s story is one of the best ways to keep his/her spirit alive.

Looking through the Good Grief Blog has encouraged me to work more on Mark’s story in scrapbook form. There are several pages in Nicholas’ first book about Mark, unfortunately, those are the only photos we have of them together. The challenges Amanda’s blog poses will help me find ways I can talk about Mark for Nicholas and save pieces of him for both of us.

I hope you all take a moment to look at the Good Grief Blog and possibly take up the challenge of scrapping (or writing or painting) about your lost one.