Spring has arrived. And as I peer out the living room window, I see stark reminders of the things that need tending. The lawn, for one, is already a mass of weeds. Over to the right I notice the driveway – all cracked and heaving. Finally, there is the sight of our 1999 Toyota van – so beaten and rusty that to call it a rust bucket is actually an insult to buckets. As I contemplate the cost of lawn service and a paint job I find myself praying for a fresh blanket of snow to make it all go away.

Kids, on the other hand, need far more regular tending than the lawn or the van. Falling behind on kid maintenance is definitely not a good idea. Anyway, as a mother of two teens I have come to accept that from time to time my little darlings are going to make their share of missteps. I know I sure did. One misstep took place this past Saturday, beginning with a late night call that started with the words “Do you have a daughter named…”which is never good. After being told of a series of unfortunate events I hung up, took a few deep breaths and peeled myself off the ceiling.

So first things first, you get to the bottom of the story. Picture me in the likeness of Lady Justice without the blindfold, doing my best to find a balance of truth and justice in the trial of my 17 year old daughter. Getting the truth is the easy part because, frankly, my kids are rank amateurs when it comes to weaving a tale of deception. I don’t need to be a detective to make mince meat of their alibis. That I can do blindfolded! The problem is getting the justice part right. In other words exactly what formula should we use to discipline our young miscreant? How short do we have to make their leash? How many freedoms do we revoke?

In the past we have tried ‘forgive and forget’ (doesn’t work) and threatened banishment to private school (not credible). So, our usual pattern is to come down hard – a combo pack that invokes grounding, cutting off use of the van, and a ban on sleepovers until the next sighting of Halley’s Comet. Problem with this approach is we then get locked into a home edition of the Cold War where she communicates only via text message and where family dinners have the ambience of a funeral parlour. We, the judge, jury and jail guards, end up being punished by virtue of having to share the same jail cell as our young perp! How is that for justice? After a few weeks of these frosty conditions we capitulate. The matter gets swept under the carpet and early parole is granted to the young inmate despite any real evidence of reform or repentance.

Are we too lenient? Are we giving our kids more leash than we should? Let’s face it, when it comes to parenting there is no standard playbook. But as I think about it no matter what form the discipline takes, if you do it in a fair and even handed manner, they may not like it but they will respect it, even if they won’t admit it. In fact it is probably one of the more important life lessons we can give our kids. Be hard on the problem, but easy on the people, as they say.

And so goes the parental paradox – giving kids your time, attention and the right measure of autonomy so they have the roots they will need when it comes time for them to pick up and take off on their own flight path.

Speaking of roots, as I look out the window at our unkempt lawn, it occurs to me that there might be some weed pulling in our daughter’s immediate future. And the van could sure use a wash!
As Oscar Wilde said “…the middle aged suspect everything, the young know everything’.

After months of being cooped inside, many Canadians embrace a trip to the dump as one of those classic springtime rituals. This year we seized upon the opportunity to rid ourselves of monumental amounts of obsolete electronics: computers, keyboards, cables, outdated cell phones, malfunctioning VCRs, a mass tangle of assorted cables and a 12 year old big screen TV that weighed about as much as a Smart car.

We had accumulated this stockpile over many years choosing to avoid definitive action to ‘clear the clutter’ knowing that these once cutting edge products had cost us many thousands of dollars.
So it was more than the usual trepidation that we found ourselves tossing these once highly valued implements of technology into the back of our van. Adding to the interest was the weather … torrential rains and strong gusty winds. But nothing was going to deter us from our steadfast commitment to move it out and move on.

Soon we found ourselves at the dump, and thru the gate we went, breaking thru yet another psychological barrier in our clutter clearing quest. There we were confronted with the challenge of trying to decipher the class of our trash: was it household hazardous waste, mixed solid waste, electronics or appliances? We were informed our trusty art deco Iona blender (circa 1975) didn’t qualify for free disposal so we would have to come up with the $5 disposal fee. I for the life of me had a hard time understanding why a pint size blender would set you back $5 whereas they welcomed a 200 pound TV like their long lost aunt? I speculated on the origins of this rather bizarre policy, and figured that somewhere out there was a vindictive bureaucrat who sustained injury in an incident involving an appliance of this nature.

Finally, after obtaining the requisite direction on where to dispose we found a home for our trash at stations # nine and twelve. I got a strange sense of satisfaction hearing the crash of archaic technology meeting its demise in the abyss of the dumpster. I felt somehow liberated and alive. I was clearing the clutter and it felt fabulous.

My glee was short lived however. Somehow I had overlooked that a detailed memo I had spent hours compiling lay on the floor of the van with the door wide open. A large gust ensued and before I could capture the document it took to the air and spun wildly away into the windy mayhem. I shrieked at my husband Andy “My PAPER!” He dutifully sprung into action, leaping over railings to give chase as the page spun and flapped haphazardly across the wet cement, toward dumpster #9. Thankfully he made the arrest and returned it to me, and I clutched it tightly, still hyperventilating from the thought of its loss. Andy looked at me with a rather puzzled expression and asked “Geez hon, what have you got written on that thing -the recipe for Coca Cola?”

Our mission was now complete. And as we made our way home, the irony of it all struck me. I mean really, how could a few ideas written on a single piece of paper be worth so much more than the once seemingly invaluable TVs, computers and gadgets that we had merrily tossed onto the scrap heap?

Yes, a trip to the dump… drama, suspense, damsel in distress, marital harmony and a quick lesson on what really matters.

Our first born left for university on Labor Day Weekend to Halifax where a level 2 Hurricane awaited their arrival. I hugged him goodbye at the airport and steadied myself to drive away wondering how I’d naviagate home through the tears. I worried about electrolyte imbalance after several hours due to the loss of fluids with the emotions. I was not prepared for the trap door to swing open quite that abruptly. Geez. We had 17 years to prepare ourselves…what happened? The shift of energy in the home was astounding. No pile of discarded shoes at the front door. No sock aroma when we peer into his empty room. I left the plate of crumbs by the TV for nostalgia sake. I can’t help but think that maybe if I’d been a better cook he might not have gone to another province. I’m counting the sleeps until Thanksgiving and taking a cooking course to prepare. As Elizabeth Kubler-Ross once said…”People are like stained glass windows:They sparkle and shine when the sun’s out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is light within.” I’ve got a light on and I’m hanging in there!

On a recent trip out west while staying at the beautiful Sheraton hotel I got up early for a morning workout and to clear my head before my presentation that day. I purposefully didn’t take my ipod as I wanted to run through some thoughts in my head. There were 2 other people working out but the treadmill was available…perfect. 7 minutes in a new arrival…a woman who appears to be in her 20″s climbs on the machine beside me. She has a mobile phone around her neck and an ear piece in her ear. Her phone rings and while walking she answers and then embarks on a marathon conversation in a loud grating voice. “So I’m just going to tell Cindy I made a mistake. She’ll get mad and ream me out. I’ll take it and we’ll move on.” This rendition was repeated over and over again with only slight variations interspersed with “You know whats” and “OMGs”. Any hope of “running through anything” was out of the question. I was now a prisoner in bubblehead’s conversation. She was oblivious to the fact that she was annoying everyone around her…and now just me as the other 2 had left…they couldn’t take it anymore. Finally, after what seemed an eternity…using all my conflict management techniques I leaned over and shouted “maybe you shouldn’t just take it…you could stand up for yourself and say enough already…this is crazy and life is too short to not speak up. Cindy is a good person and she’ll understand.” The look she gave me…I might as well have been on fire…and it was so worth it.

It seems somewhat predictable doesn’t it? We celebrate with reckless abandon in December, take one last kick at the can on New Years, and then wake up with a cloudy head to a cold jolt of January reality. Yikes!! No doubt the consumption meter spiked to some new heights in both the food and beverage department over the holidays. In our house we had the luxury of sleeping in more than usual. Routine activities like driving to school and shuttling little people got put on hold for a couple weeks. It feels like a shock to get back into the swing again. Some of us have vowed to shed the “St Nicholas six” we managed to pack on over the holidays. Others might vow to eat healthier, or to get fit?

What kind of shape are you in? Are you somewhat fit? Or fit to be tied? What was your New Year’s resolution? Whatever your goal was, one thing has proven true time and again: you increase your chances of accomplishing a goal by simply taking the step of telling someone what your goal is. Want to increase you chances of success further? Put your goal on paper! You double your chances of achieving your goal by writing it down. Yet outside of the workplace very few of us ever take the time to write down what we want to achieve. The fact is that most people don’t use these simple strategies to tap the amazing potential that resides within them.

Keep it simple. Set yourself up for success. Make that one change you have wanted to make. If it is a personal goal like fitness, then make a goal with that end in mind. See yourself achieving that goal, whether it is finishing a 5km run, or learning a new sport. Determine a target date for achieving your objective and map out your strategy for getting there. Often the first step along the road is the most difficult – but once you have taken that critical first step you may be amazed at the momentum it creates. You may take it on yourself or join a place that offers classes and find further momentum and inspiration in the support a group can offer.

A vision board will help you see it. For example, a picture with a finish line posted in the kitchen. Visuals help the subconscious mind to zone in directly on what is desired. If you can see it … you can believe it. If you can believe it…you can achieve it.

2011 is upon us…make it happen!