Author: Linda Lowen

Karate builds character and increases self-esteem. That’s what they told me when I enrolled my timid 7-year-old at White Dragon Martial Arts. I dutifully took Jaye three times a week, believing it would help her become more assertive. It did. Maybe too much, I thought as I stood outside the examination room at the doctor’s office, listening to my daughter unleashing her karate moves. During each lesson, the karate instructors had been adamant: “Don’t ever attempt these moves outside of class unless you’re threatened with serious physical danger and need to protect yourself.” See where this is headed? Shots, blood…

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That shelf of books on mean girls and childhood friendships? I read them all and still screwed up. For years, I’d been poised to identify and caution my two daughters against the potential bad apple. Yet the real threat—the nice girl—I overlooked. These kids are disarmingly polite, dress neatly, and speak like a network anchor, but watch out. They’re proof of why we sometimes have to trust our kids’ judgment. My older daughter, Jaye, was shy in kindergarten. (All names in this story have been changed.) Once she found her tribe, she moved through elementary school surrounded by friends from…

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Most families come home from a summer vacation relaxed and tanned, with souvenirs and seashells. We return with stories of neglect and near disaster, carrying more emotional baggage than we left with. Empty suitcases go to the basement, but the emotional baggage—the stuff I don’t want to deal with—hides in the upstairs hall closet behind the sheets and towels. When I can’t shut the door, I excavate items pushed to the back years ago. “What’s this?” I pull out a weird plastic-paper something. Jaye thrusts it at her younger sister. “It’s the bathing suit from that hotel in Virginia! You…

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I keenly remember the opening volley in the Birthday Party Battles in my town. It was years ago on a Friday when my older daughter, Jaye, then age 6, bounded off the school bus. “Jenna’s gonna have a bouncy castle at her party tomorrow!” All afternoon Jaye ricocheted off the furniture. Just watching her tired me out. It was just the beginning of more fatigue to come. After the bouncy castle—a canny bit of one-upmanship for the time—the competition for most impressive birthday party heated up. We threw gymnastics, bowling, miniature golf, mani-pedi, skiing and skating parties. Our kids saw…

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My husband likes to burst my balloon. This frustrates me to no end. If I don’t deflect him, he usually shoots me down. This happens so often I’d be totally demoralized if I hadn’t already come to terms with one simple fact: It’s good for our relationship. Anyone who’s familiar with Dogfight will have recognized that I’m talking about actual, not metaphorical, balloons that figure in the game. And we do love to play games. My daughter Em witnessed this when she came home from college for a long holiday weekend. She chalked it up to the shifts that occur…

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When I was 3 years old, I learned my first lesson in caring for another person. I woke from an afternoon nap and found my mother sick in bed, eyes closed, face tight with pain. I touched her forehead. It was hot. So I did what she’d always done for me: I soaked a washcloth under the faucet, folded it into a square, and placed it on her head. Wringing it out, however, was a skill I’d not yet grasped, so the dripping washcloth left a trail all the way to her bed. When I raised it to her forehead,…

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