Sunday night at the Oscars, Sandra Bullock said something in her speech that struck me. She thanked her mother for being a “trail blazer” who wouldn’t let her ride in cars with boys until she was 18, taught her that everyone is deserving of love, and allowed her to “have that [husband Jesse James] and this [the Oscar].” I found this touching because her mother obviously taught her to be a trail blazer herself - a strong, independent woman who knew she could accomplish whatever she wanted through hard work.

On the flip side, we’ve got The Bachelor on ABC. The women on this show are competing against each other to “win the heart” of one man. Recently, the show concluded another season with a new “winner” and what I found most disturbing about this season was how many of the women seemed to want to win the heart of The Bachelor (Jake Pavelka) so that they could be rescued. They never used those words, exactly, but words such as “fairy tale,” “princess” and “fantasy” (this word is used A LOT on this show) were staples of almost every conversation. Several of them had been married before and were still so young (23, 25!) and wanting to jump right back into a marriage (through the means of this show, no less). It seems to me that they’d be better off taking some time to figure out who they are without a man - what they want, what they’re capable of and who they can be on their own.

Don’t get me wrong - I am all for finding a wonderful partner and getting married. But when it’s seemingly the only goal a woman has, I think it’s unfortunate. (In college, we’d joke that these the women were going for their “MRS degree” - they’d talk more about being in college to meet a husband than for an actual degree that they could use in the future.) Anyone looking at marriage as the perfect answer to life’s challenges is going to be sorely disappointed.

I don’t have a daughter (although I do have a niece who is also my godchild) but if I did, I’d work extremely hard to make sure she understands that marriage is no fairy tale and that life is full of many other possibilities that she can make happen on her own in addition to marriage if she wants both. A happy marriage is a nice thing to have, of course - but it is most possible when you’ve explored who you are, experienced adventures and challenges on your own, and blazed some of your own trails. Why do we continue to encourage little girls to grow up with the fantasy that getting married is like being rescued by Prince Charming in Cinderella and instantly leads to “happily ever after”? Even if your husband is charming and generous, marriage is hard work! Listening to these women (and knowing some in my personal life with the same mentality) talk about it as though it’s the answer to every happiness is disheartening.

I propose we rewrite the fairy tale to be something more along the lines of: girl grows up, girl travels around world, girl discovers her passions, girl works hard at pursuing passion in her work every single day, girl is endlessly rewarded with feelings of self worth, confidence, making a living on her own, etc. One day while happily going about her purposeful life, girl happens to meet future spouse, and together they raise children and work hard at marriage, share responsibilities and hobbies and live a long, happy life together. But girl always knows she is strong, valuable and equal.

Let’s make sure our girls know that marriage is only one piece of many people’s happy lives - not the be all and end all to happiness. Let’s make sure they know that hard work leads to self confidence and worth, and that no one is going to rescue them, but rather that they can learn to love taking care of themselves. Let’s teach them that getting married is just the beginning of a hopefully long journey that is also full of hard work - but well worth it if you make the right choice and work together as equal partners. And, that it’s just one part of a happy and fulfilling life (and that it’s okay if it isn‘t a part of everyone’s life.) Let’s make “happily ever after” more focused on “with yourself.”

Teaching girls to focus on making their dreams come true through their own hard work is a fairy tale I’d like to see more girls reading. How about you?

I was traveling recently and found myself with some downtime in between layovers. I headed into one of those airport “all in one” stores to find some trash mags or something “light” to read. Instead, I found myself picking up a copy of Beautiful Boy.

Somehow I had missed the buzz about this book and the real life story behind it. I suppose we all pay the most attention to things that matter to us or are relevant to our own lives. This story wasn’t relevant to me in any way other than it was written by a parent, and I’m a parent. The jacket cover was compelling - it is the (half) image of what looks like a young boy leaping with joy. The name of the book piqued my interest as well… how can you not look at your own sons and think, “oh, my beautiful boy”?

So I picked up the book and I don’t think that I put it down until I was finished. This book is something that every parent of a teen or a teen-to-be should read. It was heartbreaking, compelling and honestly gut-wrenching.

The book is from journalist and author David Sheff. It chronicles his journey from raising his young son to watching his demise as he became addicted to marijuana, heroin and ultimately, crystal meth.

I knew nothing about crystal meth before reading this book. I didn’t want to, wouldn’t have thought about it and didn’t think I needed to.

But as I read this book, I became compelled with the years that are ahead of me. And I became damn scared of the challenges that I’m sure to face as a parent.

I’ve always known that there will come a point in my “parental life” that I will need to address the issues of drugs, alcohol and other other not-so-fun discussions with my children. But I think, like most parents, I’ve been assuming that those discussions would come at a much later time in life. Sheff’s son first got drunk at the age of eleven. That age is only four years away for my oldest son.

After reading this book (and yes, I highly, highly recommend it), I find myself torn. When do I talk to my children about drugs? When do I recognize that they’re becoming curious and to what degree do I discuss it? How do you have these discussions without making your teens run right to the very thing you’re trying to discourage them from?

If you’ve been through this I’d love to hear how you did it successfully. What age were your children when you first talked about drugs and alcohol? How did you handle discussions about drunk driving? Did you react with anger the first time your son or daughter was caught drinking? Any other insights to share? I’m sure our readers would also love to hear your advice or experiences in handling such a difficult part of raising children.

After reading David Sheff’s book, I picked up his son’s companion book – “Tweak - Growing Up on Methamphetamines” - the same story from Nic Sheff’s point of view. If I thought David’s was hard to read, Nic’s was one that I had to step away from a few times. The things that he did to himself with - and for - drugs were almost unbearable to read. But it’s also a story of love, learning, family and raising children. It’s a story of heartbreak, self-hatred and ultimately, the human spirit.

David and Nic Sheff talk about their story on Oprah

David and Nic bring to light some very difficult situations that will force us all to think twice about the decisions we make as parents. And, the fact that at some point, you have to let your children live their lives – although we want to, we can’t fix everything for them. Sometimes, learning that is the hardest lesson of all.

In a recent discussion with my sons, they were flabbergasted to find out that as a teenager, I worked at McDonald’s. They couldn’t believe it and when I finally convinced them that it was true, they of course thought I was super cool - you know, McDonald’s rocks the world of a four- and seven-year-old.

I have held a lot of other “really cool” jobs throughout my lifetime - starting as young as age 12 or so: newspaper delivery gal, babysitter, newspaper stringer, grocery store clerk, video store clerk - even a nanny. When I was in college I held three jobs and a full class load. So I know the value of hard work.

The question for me now is, how do I teach my children about hard work without necessarily having them get jobs when they’re teenagers? I’m not sure that I want them to have that responsibility along with all the other pressures and commitments that kids seem to have these days. But even at their young age, we talk about working a lot - they have two Type-A parents so it’s impossible for them not to ask about “why do you have to work,” and “why do you work so much” - you know those heart-wrenching questions that come at the most opportune times!

We (my husband and I) definitely want them to understand the rewards that come with working hard. Like most parents, we have things like homework to focus on, but we also wanted to give them the opportunity to earn something besides good grades and pats on the back. Yes, allowances are good - but at their ages, money is still not something that they are eager to earn. They do have piggy banks and understand that’s where birthday money and allowances go for now - but they don’t really care about or yet understand money. We wanted to encourage them to begin to understand responsibility and earning with something that mattered to them now.

So my husband had the great idea of creating a chart that has age-appropriate goals on it for each of them. He cut and painted gold stars with velcro on the back that they can earn - when they reach a certain amount of gold stars under one category, they are then eligible for a “prize” of their choice. We printed and cut out photos of “prizes” for them to choose from and velcro onto the chart once they reach the end in a category - these include everything from a variety of new toys (small things like Hot Wheels cars, for example), to family movie night (their choice of movie) to lobster dinner (yes, our seven-year-old loves lobster).

When we told our friends about the chart at a BBQ the other day, they looked at us like we were crazy. But teaching the value of hard work and the rewards that come with trying are something we definitely wanted the boys to begin learning at a young age. As long as you keep age-appropriate chores/responsibilities and rewards in mind, children can begin to learn this valuable lesson that will serve them well throughout life.

How do you teach children the value of hard work in your home?

I read “Die Mommy Die,” in Elle Magazine, of all places, about working women and their penchant for going on about their children at work. The author, Nancy Hass, has some interesting takes on why women who work feel the need to bring the mommy side of their lives to work. Some quips:

“…such talk is tedious to the young, unmarried women in the room (yes, they’re Twittering right now about how lame we are) and deeply irritating to the older, child-free ones, not to mention off-putting to most men who happen to be within earshot…”

“Women who talk incessantly about their kids are practicing a kind of political oppression that’s probably born of guilt. You have to declare your mothering intentions, show you’re not selling out your children by caring about your career.”

I suppose we all have our reasons for talking about our children no matter what setting we find ourselves in  - whether it’s at work, at the soccer field or at a cocktail party. I think the reasons vary - a lot of times, I’ll be honest, it’s because it may the only thing I have in common with other women in the room - women with whom I would otherwise have absolutely nothing to talk about. Other times, maybe sometimes at work, it may be my guilt talking - I’m certainly among those who vacillate about how much work is too much while I have young children. I often feel guilty about both - when a sick child takes me out of work for a day (or just an afternoon) or when work keeps me from being one of the Moms who can make it to the field trip, when I know my son would love for me to be a chaperone. So I mention it - not as a “stealth power gesture of bosses who mention their children—and the frustrations of mothering—in an attempt to humanize themselves to women below them in the hierarchy” - but probably more to get the sympathetic “don’t feel bad” and “you’re doing the best you can” supportive comments from others who may or may not know what it’s like to have the need to pursue both motherhood and a career.

Or, maybe it’s just because they are a part (*a huge part) of my life and I talk about them just as I talk about anything else that makes me who I am - marriage, hobbies, travels, books I’ve read, etc. Why would I not talk about them? Why should women feel like they have to hide or downplay this part of their lives to be sure not to alienate anyone? I don’t think everyone in the office runs marathons - or even wants to hear about the sweat, blood and tears that go into them - but nonetheless, I talk about my training incessantly when I’m in the middle of it.

I commend the author for sharing her opinion and saying what she thinks. While kid-talk at work has never really bugged me, I can understand where she’s coming from in general as she goes on about having an “aversion to wearing my parental status on the sleeve of my suit jacket,” and wonders how we have gone from “the absurd stance [of having to to become one of the boys to get ahead] to one in which a woman trots out her reproductive bona fides as though she’s won a MacArthur.”

She mentions how having a child is not “the best thing I’ve ever done,” and I can understand her. I’ve always said that being a mother is only one part of who I am - I don’t understand the sentiments that it should be the whole of my being. No one expects that from fathers - why do mothers have to take on that role?

So I agree with her that having kids is not the best thing I’ve ever done. It’s the raising them that’s the hard part. So ask me again in about 20 years and I’ll let you know if it’s the best thing I’ve ever done - I’ll have a much clearer picture. Until then, I’ll continue talking about them wherever I want, including the office, along with all the other parts of my life that make me who I am.

My three-year-old has been really hung up on monsters lately. I believe it started with the Halloween skeleton hanging in the garage. He saw it a few weeks ago and then he started asking me about monsters all day long and every night before bed - asking me if monsters exist, why was there a monster in our garage, do monsters eat children, were monsters going to get him?

Of course I said no. No, no - monsters do not exist. You are safe. Mommy would never let anything bad happen to you.

But I lied.

Monsters do exist, as is evident in every day news. This last week alone, our oceanside town was the host for alleged child rape and vehicular homicide. Last summer a string of burglaries had us all locking our windows and doors a little more often. Monsters break into homes and do horrible things as they did in this seemingly-safe Connecticut town last year. (A story I personally can’t forget; it haunts me.)

So how do I look at my three-year-old’s beautiful and innocent face and not lie - he should not yet know such horrors - but how do I teach him to be safe at the same time? And when do you stop lying? Do you teach them that monsters do exist? If so, when - and how?

We teach our children to not talk to strangers but then many of us prance them to the local mall once a year and plop them on some stranger’s lap, letting them take candy and share their biggest wishes. We tell them that they should never take direction from an adult stranger yet we send them off to classes and school without always taking the appropriate time to introduce them to their teachers, school bus drivers and other influencing adults. We hand them over to virtual strangers who come and go in their lives - and who, no matter how much we check, can be unpredictable and sometimes turn dangerous.

How do you handle teaching your children to be safe but not scared, bold but not disrespectful? I want my sons to speak up and push back if someone ever makes them uncomfortable - but teaching them the boundaries about when, where, how and to whom to push back on is a challenge.

I hate seeing my sons get older and the beautiful veil of trusting innocence slowly lifted to reveal so much ugliness in the world. It’s heartbreaking sometimes as they ask me questions about some of the less-pleasant things they begin to learn in life. Why did that man have to die mommy? Does it hurt to die? What is prison? Who goes there? Will I ever meet a bad man? No one would ever want to hurt me, right Mommy?

For now, I do lie to keep them innocent a little longer. But as they grow, I realize I have to accept that they are going to find out about the monsters in life. And it’s up to me (and others who love them) to help teach them how to avoid those monsters when necessary but not obsessively worry over them. Unlike the skeleton hanging in the garage, real life monsters are not so easily explained away.

Addendum 8/31/20008: A perfect example of this challenge - last night we were at a beach BBQ with several other families. As with any event where there are a lot of children, it was loud, slightly chaotic and full of nonstop activity. As darkness fell, we handed the children glow sticks so they’d still be easy to see. Suddenly, my husband and I realized our six-year-old had strayed from the group and was up by the seawall. He was talking to some man sitting and  having a cigarette. When we pulled our son back to the party and reiterated how he is not supposed to talk to strangers, he said “But Mommy, I thought he was with the party.” Case in point - we had just introduced the poor kid to a ton of new people and it was hard for him to discern that this person so close to our group wasn’t actually part of the group. Another example of the challenge in helping them to learn when it’s okay to talk to someone and when it isn’t.

Christine Perkett is a busy mom of two active boys, ages 3 and 6. As a working mother, Christine spends every day trying to maintain balance between her passion for family and motherhood, and her drive to run a successful business - she is the President and Founder of PerkettPR.

Christine also blogs at PerkettPRsuasion, WomenforHire Training4Dublin and My Not So Personal Life. She is currently featured in the New York Times bestseller, “Will Work From Home“  and often speaks on social media, PR and business. Connect with Christine on Linkedin, Facebook, or Twitter - or just about any social network under “missusP.”

Sometimes when you’re a working mother you react a bit more strongly to those “missed moments” than you might otherwise. Guilt sinks in almost immediately that you’ve missed a very important milestone that you can never get back because you chose to work.

Case in point - this week. I was on my way out to a business meeting and when I walked outside, my six-year-old son screamed, “Mommy, Mommy, I have to show you something!” In typical fashion I was rushed and said “Honey, can’t you show me when I get home tonight? I really have to go….” But then the nanny chimed in, “Oh you’ll want to see this.”

So I said, “okay, quick, show me.”

And he climbed on his bike.

The one that up until that morning had training wheels. The nanny had taken them off and…

… taught my son how to ride a bike.

This may not seem like a big deal to you - but to me, learning to ride your bike is that quintessential moment in life that you share with a parent who lets go too soon and you get mad but eventually you forgive them as you feel the thrill of overcoming your fears and pedaling away. And it’s a moment you remember forever. One that books and movies often show as a touching childhood right of passage between child and parent.

Ouch.

To think that my son will think back and remember some nanny of mine taught me to ride my bike really gets to me. Maybe it’s not that big of a deal to him. Maybe it’s random and unusual that I still remember the moment my father taught me how to ride mine. Maybe it’s just one of a zillion moments in life that I will miss not only due to working but just the fact that you can’t be with them all the time - like at school, camp, etc.

Nonetheless, it stung.

I masked my disappointment in oohs and ahhs, “Awesome!” and high fives for both him and the nanny. But it was definitely one of those “ouch” parenting moments when you question your choices. (This often happens during the summer when she gets to spend all day with them at the beach and I’m stuck in an office… uh, wait, why did I choose this path again?!)

Oh well, there’s always the 2-year-old…

Because I am always running so ragged, If I get an opportunity to spend a few moments with my children that are actually quality moments, I really take notice. Usually I have a laptop or a BlackBerry connected to me and I am giving them half of my attention.

So last night after work I stepped outside with them for an hour or so – leaving all things connected indoors - and we played in the sandbox. As we were playing the boys started to make “kid soup.” We had perfectly fine, beautiful, clean sand in our buckets and they started grabbing all kinds of items to add to it – grass, rocks, sticks, etc.

My first impulse was to think, “What the hell are you doing to this perfectly beautiful, clean sand we have? Don’t mess it up!”

But I caught myself. And I reminded myself that all day long I am controlling things. Sometimes, letting go of control is good. What do I care if the sand is not pristine? That soup we made and pretended to eat was delicious. And full of healthy ingredients, too – love, laughter, imagination.

Sounds corny, I know. But letting go of control and embracing a little chaos once in a while is good – and it’s one of the many wonderful lessons my children continue to teach me every single day.

Thanks, boys.

This weekend we had a birthday party for my six-year-old. We invited all of his kindergarten classmates so we had about 17 crazy, loud children here for two what-seemed-to-be-MUCH-longer hours.

He’s our oldest (so everything is new to us, too) and we both work full time, so while I do participate in as many activities as possible (volunteer in the classroom once a month; be the “storyteller” every now and then, etc.), I do not see or know the other mothers very much/well. So when they all come to my home and bring their children, it is strange to a) be taking gifts from strangers and b) have them not really talk to me. I found they were very clique-sh and although I would expect that at a party, I don’t expect it when I am the hostess. I mean, isn’t it proper etiquette to at least speak with the hostess a little bit? Only one really did.

The others were almost downright rude - so much so that it had my family in an uproar after the party. Honestly, I didn’t really mind. I wasn’t seeking new friends, we were there for our son and that’s all that matters - he had fun!

Which leads me to a second observation/question… what do you think of dropping your child off at a stranger’s house and leaving? On one hand I think it’s not a big deal and people probably do it all the time, on the other hand I could NEVER do that and am surprised at the ease with which the mommies did so this weekend. Who was going to watch them? How do you know who’s at the party and who they are exposed to? It just seems bizarre to me - I mean these parents don’t know us at all, really, and they are perfectly fine dropping their kids off and leaving? Am I the only one who thinks this is strange? Of course I know we’re fine and normal but, for example, some random lawn dude stopped by in the middle of the party and came walking through the kids in the backyard and I was thinking “who the hell is this guy” before he introduced himself. What if I hadn’t seen him? What if one of the kids talked to him before we knew he was there and he was… well, you know, I’m sure I have an over active mind but I’m interested in what you think.

Lastly, I guess it should not surprise me that the children who were left were the loudest and most obnoxious. At least teach them some manners, people. Then again, if you aren’t around to see how they act I guess you wouldn’t know they are screaming in every adult’s face when they need something… probably trying to make sure someone is paying attention.

Tell me, dear readers, if I’m over sensitive. Is it totally cool to drop your child off at someone’s house that you really don’t know just because they’re having a birthday party? I get it when they’re, you know, 10 or something…but kindergarten-age?