It’s true that the benefits of a parent cannot be measured or quantified in any meaningful way. It’s hard to put a price on the emotional commitment and special experience of raising a child as a parent, some of which may not even be realized by the parents themselves until afterwards. But it is undeniable that the experience of parenthood is a rewarding and special time in someone’s life.
Twitter Weekly Updates for 2010-05-22
- RT @MoneyMatters: Frugal teen buys house with 4-H winnings http://bit.ly/amVvkV #
- RT @MoneyNing: What You Need to Know About CSAs Before Joining: Getting the freshest produce available … http://bit.ly/dezbxu #
- RT @freefrombroke: Latest Money Hackers Carnival! http://bit.ly/davj5w #
- Geez. Kid just screamed like she'd been burned. She saw a woodtick. #
- "I can't sit on the couch. Ticks will come!" #
- RT @chrisguillebeau: U.S. Constitution: 4,543 words. Facebook's privacy policy: 5,830: http://nyti.ms/aphEW9 #
- RT @punchdebt: Why is it “okay” to be broke, but taboo to be rich? http://bit.ly/csJJaR #
- RT @ericabiz: New on erica.biz: How to Reach Executives at Large Corporations: Skip crappy "tech support"…read this: http://www.erica.biz/ #
Do you have what it takes to be wealthy?
I saw this quiz and thought it would be fun to liveblog taking it. Yes, I’m lame. I’m going to take the quiz here. I’m copying the questions over before reading the answers and answering each question before reading the next.
1. How optimistic are you?
I have to go with A, the glass is half full, but I like to think I’m more of a “That’s half of a glass of water” kind of guy.
2. When you grew up, your parents were:
A & C. We owned a home, but money was always tight. I’m picking C. We always had everything we needed, so we certainly weren’t poor, but I also didn’t have every video game system in existence.
3. How healthy are you?
A. I can’t complain. I’m borderline on a few issues, but overall, I’m pretty healthy.
4. How smart are you?
I’d bet very few people consider themselves stupid, regardless of evidence to the contrary. I’ll take B, smarter than most, and hope it doesn’t sound arrogant.
5. What level of education did you complete?
B. College. I went to a tech school and took a diploma program. That’s working out well for me, so far.
6. Physically, you are:
A, B, & C. I’m tall, heavy, and pretty darn sexy!
7. What’s your sibling situation?
I have two and I’m the middle child.
8. Are you married?
A. Yes, to spouse #1.
9. Do you have kids?
3 of the little monsters. They are a money-drain, but worth every penny. Most days.
10. Do you exercise?
D. I neither smoke nor exercise. There’s no middle-of-the-road answer to this one. You either hit the gym regularly, or you are a lump on the couch.
11. People describe you as:
B. Persistent. I think the actual word used is “obsessive”.
12. Do you believe a woman’s place is in the home.
A. I may joke about it, but that’s not a choice for me to make.
13. When it comes to work:
A, B & C. I have a day job, but I’m also regularly pursuing side-hustles, including one that is 4 years old and relatively profitable. Since I can only choose one, it’s A, because that’s my primary income.
14. How would you like to jump out of a plane?
A. I want to, but promised my wife I’d wait until the kids were out of the house.
15. Who would you rather emulate?
B. I’m not into an entourage, and have no urge to surround myself with 500 of my closest leeches. Good times with good friends is enough for me.
I scored 39 out of 72, which puts me in “You’ve got a shot at real money!” My financial outlook puts me at comfortable, but not care-free, which is an okay place to be.
What’s your score?
Playing For Blood
Kris at Every Tips and Thoughts wrote a post about games and letting her kids win feeling bad about winning. I disagree. This post is an expansion of my comment there.
When we play games in my house, we play for blood. I’ve never let my kids win and they know it. From the first time the kids attempt Memory, they know they’ve got to earn a win against Mom and Dad. They know if they lose, they must do so gracefully. If they pout or cry, they lose game privileges for a while. I demand good sportsmanship, win or lose.
To be clear, my kids are 3, 4, and 11 and they are all held to the same standards of sportsmanship. Win or lose, they will do so gracefully. There will be no temper tantrums when they are Sorry’d and no pouting when the Queen is captured.
It took my son almost 3 years to beat me at chess. When it finally happened, he was almost as proud as I was and still talks about it 5 years later.
It’s not much fun playing games with his friends. They were coddled and expect to win everything. I have to take away game privileges just like I do for my 3 year old. They hate that because we have the coolest board games. Nobody else has games that involve zombies or disembodied brains.
What has the result been?
My kids love playing games. This week, my oldest has been teaching his sisters how to play Life. When he visits his friends, he’s as likely to bring a board game as an electronic game. He’s got a good mind for strategy, and I can’t remember the last time he pouted when I tromped him.
My 4 year old hasn’t mastered gamesmanship yet, but she will. When I threaten to put the game away, she wipes her eyes, and keeps playing, even if her jaw is chattering. She knows what is expected and works to live up to it.
Both of the older kids are competitive. They’ve never had a win handed to them, and they have each had wins they had to work for, and they know how it feels to win and earn it.
The youngest doesn’t care if she wins, she’s just happy to play. In my experience, the competitive gameplay gene doesn’t activate until 4.
In my mind, the real world won’t hand them any wins, so I might as well start teaching them how to work for it now.
How about you? Do you let your kids win, or do you teach them that all games are bloodsports?
Time Management
My wife told me that I don’t do enough around the house.
She is, of course, correct.
I could make a list of excuses, but none of them matter. There’s really only one reason: I have problems with time management. I’m easily distracted.
For example, in the time it’s taken me to write the above three lines, I stopped to check a website, updated my Evernote installation, and added a new contact to my address book.
That’s not multi-tasking, that’s inefficiency. People don’t actually multi-task. Instead, they break concentration and completely switch gears. Repeatedly. They pretend they are doing a lot of things at once, when in fact they are doing a large series of individual tasks. That’s serial single-tasking, poorly.
On top of that, I focus to the point of obsession. The entire world goes away when I am working.
No, that’s not a contradiction. I’m good at procrastinating and I am interested in everything. If a random thought floats to the surface while I’m working, I follow it to Google and, if it’s interesting enough, I get lost. It generally only happens during research or while doing a job I hate.
For those of you following along at home, I can be easily distracted from some tasks, then lock on to some tangent and have an evening disappear.
For some reason, my wife hates that, especially when there are dishes to be done and laundry to be folded.
This has blown up on me a few time.
We’ve come upon a solution, in three parts.
1. Timer. When I get on the computer, I set an egg timer for 1 hour. When the time’s up, I’m done. The time limit helps me focus on finishing the task at hand. If I know I need to get a post written in an hour, I’m less likely to catch up on the comics in my news reader.
2. Communication. If I’m working on something that I know will take more than an hour, I tell her. I’ve had to do that for each installment of the Make Extra Money series.
3. Nagging. If #1 has failed and #2 doesn’t apply, I’ve given my wife explicit permission to remind me, as often as necessary. Sometimes, I don’t register everything people say when I am “lost”, so now she knows to keep trying if I don’t respond, or respond with a spaced-out “Uh-huh, yes, dear.” Before, she was worried about upsetting me by nagging, but I wouldn’t have noticed the first few times. Thankfully, with #1 and #2, #3 has only been an issue one.
Time limits, communication, and persistent reminders. That’s my plan to manage my time. Getting off of the computer has helped me be more useful with household chores and it’s given me a chance to be closer to the woman I love most. The time-limited focus has even helped me get a couple of projects rolling.
We all have the same 24 hours. Are you using yours efficiently?
(P.S. Happy anniversary, honey. These have been the best years I could ask for.)
Christmas Magic
When I was little, the world was amazing. The first snowfall was among the best days of the year. Everything was worth exploring, in hopes of discovering something new and fascinating, and everything was fascinating.
Stepping on a crack had serious implications. The wishbone in a turkey earned its name. Blowing out all of the candles on a birthday cake could change your life. The idea of some dude half a world away, watching you, then sneaking into your house to dish our rewards and punishments wasn’t pervy and sick, it was wonderful.
Then, one day, it all changes.
Somebody–a classmate, a older brother, a neighbor–let’s it slip that Santa isn’t real, and the implications snowball. That day, the magic dies.
Wishing on a star? Over.
The Easter Bunny? Hasenpfeffer.
Growing up to be Superman? Welcome to the rat race.
It’s a sad day when kids stop believing in magic.
I don’t believe in lying to my children, but I also don’t believe in destroying their magic. It’s a balancing act.
When my son was 6, an older boy at daycare tried to kill Santa for him. He was upset.
“Dad, is Santa real?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t believe in Santa.”
“Okay, I’ll let him know.”
“Nonononononono! Don’t tell him!”
Was it lying? Probably, but he obviously wasn’t ready to stop believing, so I let him continue. A year later, we had the same conversation, but the results were quite different.
“Dad, you’ve always said that you hate lying, so why did you let me believe in Santa?”
So I told him the truth. Magic is a frail thing that’s nearly impossible to reclaim and I wanted him to have that treasure for as long as possible. And, “Now that you know, you are in on the conspiracy. You’ve been drafted. Don’t kill the magic for anyone else.”
It was weird having him help me stuff stockings.
If you’ve got kids(and celebrate Christmas), how do you handle the Santa problem?