When we are creatively active, we are in the moment. When we are in the moment, we are open and we are focused. There are many concrete steps we can take to improve our focus as well as our children’s. With technology as a near-constant distraction, we must take even more care to nurture the important nutrients of our lives as well as our children’s: good nutrition, physical activity, restful sleep, and spiritual health. A sound body and sound mind lead to a sound focus, and, learning this focus, our children are able—even likely—to create a sound body of creative work, play, and joy.
There is no substitute for the human imagination. We can invent stories and playful plots—that is, we can if we are given the time and mental space to do so. Far too many households, however, are overcrowded with technological paraphernalia. From the radio to the TV to the iPhone and iPad, the computer, and every new incarnation of video game, our children are swamped with high-tech distractions.
Timothy is addicted to video games. Their sound track is noisy and their plots violent. He kills off his enemies with mind-numbing explosions. His sole goal is to win, losing himself in mortar and mayhem. Connie has a favorite DVD. She begs her mother to play it “just one more time.” It’s not too severe to say that she’s addicted. Her mother has misgivings, but she keeps them to herself. After all, she tells herself, the DVD is educational. For many parents, the proliferation of “gizmos” means less time for meaningful interaction with their children. Glutted by technology, their offspring tune in and tune out.
“We live in a time of abundance, and people want to have it all,” says Christine Koh. “It’s not that parents are doing the wrong things, or doing too much. It’s that there’s so much available that it can get overwhelming.”
In a digital age, “having it all” means many more things than it once did. It means contacting people instantly—and expecting to hear back instantly. Communication is immediate, and immediate gratification can be very addictive. We can DVR a show on TV and access it at any moment. We can download a book to an iPad without ever stepping outside, entering a library, or browsing a bookstore. While there is significant luxury in the technological advances being made, they can pose problems as well.
“No screens,” says a professor friend of mine. “There has to be significant time each day where we are not looking at our phone, our computer, the TV. Screens suck us in. We lose ourselves, and that’s not good.” He insists that his students take notes on paper, and at home he limits his children to one hour of screen time per day. If we can train ourselves to check our e-mail at selected times as opposed to every time our phone makes a noise at us, we are setting a judicious example for our children.
“You’re the most important thing right now,” our actions tell our children when we leave our phone behind to take a walk with them. “I’m focusing on you.” We show them that good manners around technology are not only possible but required. When our daughters are playing on a swing set and hoping we see how high they have managed to go, we miss something—and withhold something from them—if we are buried in our phone, deleting spam or surfing the Internet. The advent of the smartphone becoming “the world in our pocket” is both a blessing and a curse. We must be very conscious of how we use this tool. Anytime we are distracted by it unconsciously, we are telling our children that something behind that screen has priority over them—and we are teaching them to focus on screens themselves.
The other day I was in a grocery store, phone in hand. I was actually looking up a recipe and confirming that the ingredients were in my basket, but to any outer eye, I was checking my e-mail, texting, or tweeting. Focused on the screen of my phone, I was unaware that a woman with a toddler in her arms had come very close to me until I was startled by the shrill scream of her child.
“Phone!” he shrieked. “Give me the phone!”
I jumped back, assuming he was talking to his mother, when I realized that his tiny hand was stretched toward me. He wanted my phone. Badly. As I glanced at his mother for help, I saw that she was busy texting, ignoring the squirming in her arms and the crimson color rising in her son’s face.
“Phone!” he wailed at the top of his lungs, and then began a screaming, crying tantrum. His frustrated mother tugged him away, still staring at her phone all the while. The look in her son’s eye was crazed, and I saw in that moment the depth of obsession we have with our devices and how, no matter the age, the siren song of the screen is very hard to resist.
Perhaps the crying child learned from his texting mother that a phone, above all else, was his first priority, his ideal companion. And perhaps his obsession was no different from anyone else’s—it was simply raw and undisguised in his two-year-old form.
“I allow no video games in the house,” says a friend of mine. “And my ten-year-old son is better off for it. Sure, he gets mad and begs. Yes, he plays games sometimes when he visits a friend’s house. But I am holding firm. And the fixation always passes. What scares me is seeing parents who indulge their kids with the latest and greatest video games, even playing them with them. They say it’s ‘a way to spend time together,’ but I can’t imagine anything more separate. As soon as a kid is playing a video game, it’s just him and Mario Kart. There’s no one else in the world. It’s okay to have fun, but it’s a really, really isolating activity.”
As parents, we must determine our household rules around these things. Some give a half-hour limit twice a day, maybe an hour twice a day on weekends. Others will let their children play with their phones or iPads when all else fails and they desperately need to occupy their kids in a foolproof—and immediate—way. But for all of us, being thrown back on our own devices—and not the electronic kind—is the more creatively stimulating approach. Technology has its place, but the more of it that is available to us, the more we must be conscious of when and how we use it.
DEVICES OFF
An Exercise 
Take one entire evening, and turn off all devices. This includes anything with a screen: cell phones, TVs, computers, iPods. The only rule of the evening is that no screens are viewed. This may cause a great deal of resistance and anxiety, but if you can power through, the connection you will ultimately make with yourself and your family members will be deeper for it.
THE SPRINGBOARD OF GOOD HEALTH
When we are healthy and active physically, this affects our creative health as well. Nourished and satisfied, our focus improves. Strong and relaxed, we are more secure in our ideas. Physical empowerment helps us take risks in other areas of our lives. The common wish of “health and happiness” is quite literal—the two are often, literally and spiritually, intertwined.
When it comes to our exercise and nutrition habits, two things are guaranteed: our children will notice what we do and they will notice how we feel about what we do. If we are active and we enjoy being active, it is very likely that our children will emulate that. If we are healthy—meaning nutritionally and spiritually healthy—when it comes to choosing our food and activities, our children will learn from that, too.
As a basic rule, the healthiest people practice a healthy moderation with regard to food. No birthday cake? Or a vegan birthday cake? That sounds a bit harsh, especially to my midwestern palate. On the other hand, sugary cereal every day for breakfast? That’s probably not a wise choice. The point is that any extreme is likely to be rebelled against, and if we can teach our children a sane and neutral attitude toward food, we will do them well. That being said, we must make our decisions based on the individual reactions and needs of our children. As nutritionist Sara Ryba says, “When it comes to nutritional needs, we are not all created equal.” Some people react more or less strongly to sugar, dairy, or wheat. Some people thrive on running, while others need weight training to maintain a physical comfort level. Overall, a gentle balance of healthful foods, the occasional treat, and a cross-training athletic program will suffice for most of us.
We can be inventive as we incorporate healthy habits into our lives, and our children’s. Elliot remembers his mother making a canned-pear-half “bunny” for an after-school snack: raisins for eyes, carrot sticks for ears, celery sticks for whiskers, and a small scoop of cottage cheese for a tail. Healthy and fun, it was also quick. It is easy to forget that healthy snacks don’t have to take longer to prepare than unhealthy ones. Sometimes unhealthy eating is just a rut we fall into—fast food is cheap and convenient.
Attempting to make healthy habits fun may be just as simple as more consciously using our imaginations. Riding a stick horse is a fun form of exercise, as is playing with the dog or chasing one another around the yard. Participating in physical games with our children sets a great example and provides a chance to bond with one another as well.
But if we are inactive, our children may eventually emulate that, too. Today we may sit at the playground watching them run around. Their weight is fine and they are energetic and strong. We, on the other hand, may be carting around an extra twenty or fifty pounds that we’d rather not be encumbered with. If we do not take care of that, in the long run, our children are more likely than not to imitate what they have seen us do—whether it is late-night bingeing on ice cream or procrastinating doing exercise. And if we have physical problems, chances are that they will develop them as well.
A young mother in my class gained forty pounds when she was pregnant with her twin daughters. Today, her daughters are six and beautiful, and she has gained ten more pounds. “I’m fifty pounds overweight now,” she told me. “I know that. I know why, too. I eat the same snacks my daughters eat. I’m tired. I don’t exercise. I eat when I can’t rest, and I gain weight. Now that it’s been six years, I’ve started to get used to it. I have practically forgotten about my former wardrobe in the back of my closet. I’m used to wearing shapeless things, and I guess if I’m honest, I’ve sort of given up on myself in that way.”
I knew her struggles with weight were painful for her. And for her sake, as much as her daughters’, I hoped she would be able to take steps toward a solution that might provide her with some relief. It was, however, her daughter Joanna who performed the necessary intervention.
“We were reading a book about leaders. And then we started talking about leadership,” the mother relayed to me the next week at class. “And I asked them who they thought were good leaders, what kinds of leaders they’d like to be. Joanna looked at me, and she said, ‘Mommy, you’re not a good leader.’ I was shocked and hurt and immediately thought of all the things I do for my kids. I love them, I provide for them, I play with them, I encourage them. I asked her why she said that, and she said, ‘Because you are always talking about how you have to take better care of yourself and stop eating so much ice cream, but every day you still eat ice cream.’” The young mother’s eyes filled with tears of determination. “I joined a weight-loss program that day,” she told me. “It’s been four days now. I’m still in shock from hearing Joanna’s words, and I deserve to be. She called my bluff. Six years old, and she was right.”
Her story is not unique. And the good news is that her children will notice what she is doing now, too.
Focusing on positive exploration of what is healthy can be fun for the whole family. “I take my kids to the local farm,” says Rob, “and let them pick tomatoes and eat them right there. They love how sweet they are, and they see where fresh vegetables come from. Of course, they love cake and ice cream, too. But it’s good to show them that healthy food can also be enjoyable. I just try to strike a balance.”
It’s fine—even good—to have certain nutrition and exercise philosophies that you and your family subscribe to. It’s just important to be sure that the impulse behind them is coming from a place that is truly healthy in ourselves.
Whether we show our children that we believe our own nutrition and exercise doesn’t matter, or if we show them that food is something to be controlled at all costs, we are giving them information that they will absorb and repurpose. Extreme regimens of any kind, when treated as if they are the only answer and imposed on others, are to be avoided. It may be fine for a grown adult to experiment with radical diets, but imposing them on everyone else can be off-putting, hindering the health and happiness of others.
“I think that parents try to push on their kids what they feel they lack themselves—or, in other words, try to make their kids a more perfect version of themselves,” says Lee, a student in my Santa Fe class, “and it’s dangerous. If they are heavy, they may push their kids not to be. Or if they’re losing weight, they may push their kids to lose weight, too.” Of course, there is a healthy balance to everything, and in an ideal world, we all would be at a reasonable weight. But when things start to go to the extreme—be it eating fast food every day or eating only lettuce—we do a disservice to ourselves and our children. By becoming aware of our own nutrition and exercise habits, we become aware of what we are passing on to our children.
Children learn by what we do. If we want active, healthy children, we must be active and healthy ourselves. We can exercise and invite our children to exercise with us. Sometimes it’s a trip to the park, sometimes it’s a walk, sometimes it’s calisthenics right on the living room floor. The important point is that our children see we are enjoying our bodies. When Domenica was little and we lived in Greenwich Village, I got exercise for both of us by mounting Domenica on a stick horse and trotting her to and from school. I taught her “whoa” for red lights and “giddy up” for green. She had several stick horses from which to choose. Her favorite—and the fastest—was a golden palomino. On days when she rode Goldie, our exercise was a little more strenuous. She would gallop, not just trot. I hastened to keep up with her. At the school’s door, she relinquished her mount. I would lead her pony back home. From nine-thirty to two-thirty I had writing time. Then it was time to select a stick horse for Domenica to ride back home. My favorite was a bay with a snow-white blaze. Sometimes Domenica would object that she rode to school on one pony and went home on another. But we would trot briskly home, no matter which mount I’d selected. Making a game of the walk, we incorporated activity into every day without strain. Small, healthy actions, with the intention of play and joy within them, can add up to a healthy life.
BABY STEPS
An Exercise
What steps can you take to improve your own health and nutrition? Allow yourself to take pen in hand and muse on the page for a few minutes. Although this can feel overwhelming for many of us, remember that small steps forward on your part make a large impact on your quality of life—and on your children.
Today in my Morning Pages, I found myself writing: “I didn’t sleep well last night. I am tired and wired.” And tired and wired is exactly what we all become when we are overtaxed and under-rested. Sleep deprivation prevents our children from having the focus to play and create productively. And we are not the most supportive parents when we are crabby and exhausted. For ourselves and our kids, we must do our best to value sleep and the restful rituals we can build to enhance it.
There are volumes of research on the benefits of sleep for children: they’re healthier, more even-tempered, better students. Our home lives confirm this—we know what happens when we don’t get enough sleep or when our children don’t. Tempers rise and patience lags. Focus suffers, and we make more mistakes. Our children resist the things they usually love, and when we suggest that they’re “just tired,” anger flares. “No, I’m not,” they respond defiantly.
Looking at this, we see how we, too, may suffer from the same denial. We decide we can’t get any more sleep than we have, and that we’re “just fine.” We then proceed to force ourselves through our day with the hope that it won’t matter. But it does matter. Taking moments to rest when we can, taking naps when our children do (if we can), and modeling good sleep and rest habits allow us to communicate this value to our children. If our children don’t want to lie down for their naps, we tell them they have to lie down anyway. Soon they are sound asleep, and it’s hard to believe that, just moments before, they had resisted the idea so completely. Pushing through our own fatigue, we can learn from our children. We, too, are resisting our naps. We believe there are other things more important for us to do. But resting ourselves makes us more available, more patient, more alert.
Often, parents are so exhausted that they can’t imagine ever catching up. Sleep deprivation builds over time, and it also takes time to correct. “I’m asleep in a second,” says Nancy, a new mom. “I close my eyes and I’m gone. I can’t imagine not being tired.” For Nancy, there is a level at which the reality of her current situation—two to three middle-of-the-night feedings—will keep her from getting enough sleep. But it is worth it for her to take whatever moments she can and allow herself to rest. She won’t be able to catch up in one fell swoop. But valuing sleep as a high priority for herself, even amid the many other things she needs to do, will help her be more efficient in all areas of her life and parenting.
For our children, we can encourage restfulness by taking as many steps as we can to make their bedrooms serene. Having them clean up their rooms, however much they may resist it, does create a calmer environment more conducive to sleep. Controlling the amount of light and noise as they are falling asleep is comforting as they drift off. Many times, the hardest part is pulling them away from whatever they are doing to begin the evening bath-and-bed routine. But if there can be some fun woven in—toys in the bath, a book before bed—this ritual, too, can be enjoyable, and everyone will be healthier for it.
BUILDING A CALM ENVIRONMENT
An Exercise
Often a few very small changes will make our sleeping environment a more restful place. Simply dusting the headboard and clearing the nightstands can add a great dose of serenity to our own sleeping area. For our children, a calming night light or gentle fan can add an element of comfort as they unwind.
Find one small change you can make in your own sleeping area and one small change you can make in your child’s. Do you notice a difference as you begin bedtime routines?
RITUAL
Casting my mind back over my own private memories, I find that those I cherish most involve ritual. There was the nightly reading of a bedtime story, sometimes a new book from the library, sometimes a cherished favorite we had read many times before. What mattered was the consistency—knowing that I could count on a story to give closure to the day. Children thrive on consistency. This means, in other words, that they thrive on ritual.
Many rituals can be built into your child’s day. There is the ritual of grace before meals. There is the ritual of the nightly bath, the ritual of putting on pajamas and saying bedtime prayers before lights out. Know that your child takes comfort from them all. The reading ritual might begin each night with the signature phrase “Once upon a time…” In the Cameron home, the nightly prayer would be the classic “Now I lay me down to sleep…” For the bath, I remember the beloved doggerel “Rub-a-dub-dub, three men in the tub.” At mealtime, we always said grace before we ate. In all homes, rituals can be customized. And in all rituals, it is the thought that counts. We are teaching our children to appreciate the gifts of their life.
Mary Lou, a single mother, found that creating ritual created ease for herself. Her young daughter became used to the rhythm of evening activities, and they both were calmer for it. Homework, Dinner, Reading, Bath, Bedtime. Mary Lou added proactive steps to their rituals as well: As soon as homework was done, it was put carefully into her daughter’s backpack, which waited in its place by the door. After dinner, Mary Lou spent a few minutes cleaning the kitchen and set the table for breakfast. At bathtime, clothes were sorted into laundry baskets, “dark, light, colors,” and the outfit for tomorrow was laid out on a chair. A quick check-in with the highlight of the day, and the stress of a long day was laid to rest at bedtime with the simple prayer that Mary Lou concocted herself: “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I dream before I wake, I pray good dreams the Lord will make.” Mary Lou and her daughter recited “their” prayer together nightly, and turned in. Prepared for the day to come, they both rested better at night. And, when morning came, there was no mad dash to choose an outfit or collect homework before the school bus came. They both had time for a non-rushed breakfast and quick check-in before their respective days began.
A ritual is not only a repeated act but a momentary pause, a conscious, reflective break. Building ritual into a child’s day, we teach the child the importance of rest. So much of modern life goes pell-mell. Learning to pause and count our blessings is an invaluable skill.
Morning Pages can become a valuable and familiar ritual that connects us to ourselves and our day. They clear our consciousness, like the windshield wipers swiping across the windshield of our psyches. I know mothers of infants who rock their children in one arm while writing with the other. I know parents of six-year-olds who encourage their children to write first thing in the morning as well. It can become a family ritual to have daily, reflective time every morning.
In the evening, the practice of Highlights brings not only a sense of stability and safety but also one of connection and optimism. This trained optimism, choosing the highest point of the day and sharing it with a loved one, gives us a gift of gratitude that we carry through our lives. Highlights—ours and our children’s—often surprise us. Recently a young father I know had a long-awaited opening night for a play he had written. “It was years in the making,” he said. “I spent every day of my life thinking about that play as it came to fruition. And the day it opened, it wasn’t the good reviews or the fancy guests that made my Highlights list. All of those things were so exciting. But when I shared Highlights that night with my son, I realized the highlight of my day was that I was able to show my son that if you reach for a goal—even a very ambitious one, like writing and producing a play—you can achieve it. I was setting a good example for my son that day.”
It is not uncommon for Highlights to surprise us. As in all ritual, it is not the size of the action that matters. It is the thoughtfulness and regularity that makes an impact. In small-town Vermont, Alisa walked each day to school with her best friend. She would leave her house at exactly 8:00 a.m. and meet her friend Amy at 8:05 on Amy’s porch. Together they would walk to school, easily arriving before 8:20, when they were due. They walked together from third grade on, crossing the street with the same crossing guard every morning and on the return trip home. They shared stories from home and from school, of homework and siblings and pets, of new toys and longed-for toys. They sometimes walked in silence. And by the time they were in high school, they were still best friends. “That’s a connection we’ll always have,” says Alisa. When she and Amy see each other now, as adults, they always take a walk together. That familiar ritual of walking and talking is one that still brings comfort to both of them.
The larger events of the year, too, gift us with opportunities for ritual. Birthdays promise cake with candles to blow out. “You matter,” we tell our children when we let them choose the menu or the restaurant for their birthday dinner. “I’m glad you were born and I celebrate your special day,” we are saying when we hand them a wrapped birthday gift. Whether it’s an annual holiday celebration or a weekly Sunday-morning pancake breakfast, we gift our children with safety when we practice ritual. “We are building a life together,” our actions tell them. “We are making things together that bring us happiness.”
Ritual provides joyful structure, a break within our day that puts us in touch with ourselves. As we commit to Morning Pages, we bring ourselves a time of reflection and peace that we carry with us throughout our day. As we build ritual, large and small, into our children’s lives, we create a foundation of security and whimsy that becomes a part of how they, too, learn to exist in the world with confidence and faith.