How to keep from losing “touch” on social media

Posted on March 4, 2017 by Sue Marguerite

Social media is awesome for keeping in touch with family and friends all over the world. Our kids are on it almost 24/7 and it’s completely normal for them to go for long stretches without physically coming into contact with people.

So here’s a question: do you keep in “touch” your kids when you see them? Do you hug them, hold them, tousle their hair, pat them on the back?

If you don’t….you must! If it doesn’t come naturally, a good way to keep in “touch” is by holding their hand before they sleep. Sit on the side of the bed, ask to hold their hand, and give it a little squeeze and maybe even a massage as you talk about their 5 favourite things of the day. It’s a fantastic ritual and can be continued even when they’re older IF the practice is started when they’re younger.

“Reach out and touch…somebody’s hand…make this world a better place…if you can.” 🙂

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12 truths worth keeping safe

Posted on March 29, 2015 by Sue Marguerite

So today I decided to clean up my 18,000 plus messages in Gmail and came across this 12-step list in a tucked away tab labelled “Notes”.

“Notes” are from my beloved Samsung Galaxy Note2 (which sadly I gave up when switching to the iPhone 6Plus — oh, how I miss the Galaxy pen!) so they’re definitely something I wrote, but since it’s from May 1, 2013, I can’t remember if I wrote them or if I copied them, or if I compiled them from things I’ve read or heard elsewhere?

In any case, they’re worth keeping safe, so here they are:

12 truths to keep in mind when raising kids

1) I have influence over my child, not control.
2) I have faith in the future, not fear
3) I have faith in my child, even though I don’t always understand.
4) I love, but do not always like my child, and that’s OK
5) I have self-respect and therefore I respect my child
6) I will treat my child the way I wish to be treated when I can no longer care for myself.
7) I learn as much from my child as I teach
8) I know that true independence springs from a secure and stable foundation
9) I know that I must be happy for my children to be happy.
10) I know that my actions speak louder than my words
11) i know that I cannot be all things to everybody but I can be one thing to somebody.
12) I will be true to myself and allow my child to be true to himself or herself.

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R-E-S-P-E-C-T …. and not just a little bit!

Posted on March 25, 2015 by Sue Marguerite

I was going through the Rolling Stone’s top 500 songs the other day and something struck me as I listened to their #5 entry: Aretha Franklin’s version of the Otis Redding-penned “Respect”.

Great song, but how can she be asking for “just a little respect?” (“All I’m asking for is a little respect (just a little bit, just a little bit…”)

With all due respect, we can’t have just a little bit of respect (unless it’s a euphemism for something else, but that’s another story!). Like death or, being more positive, life, respect is an absolute: You can’t be “just a little dead:” when you’re dead, you’re dead; and when you’re alive, you’re alive. And you either have respect or you don’t.

The bedrock of any lasting, positive relationship is respect.

Key words: lasting and positive. Because we can have lasting relationships that are negative, and we do it all the time — with our bosses, abusive spouses and free-loading friends. We also have positive relationships that are short due to people moving away, drifting apart, death, etc.. If we think about it, more often than not, when we see these people again, we tend to pick up right where we left off because our relationships are built on the bedrock of respect.

And if there is one type of respect that trumps all the others, it’s self-respect.

Self-respect.

I was coming home in a taxi the other day and when we pulled up to where we live, the entrance was blocked by a taxi whose driver was arguing with the security guard about where he was allowed to wait for passengers (the apartment complex has only a very small entryway and is routinely blocked by moving vans, etc. so often the taxi stand changes).

From what we overheard, the driver was not happy about being told to move his taxi, and was screaming in protest. The security guard was standing there calmly and replying in a normal tone of voice. As our way was blocked, we were just sitting there waiting for some resolution. I sighed, and my taxi driver shook his head thoughtfully, and then he made the most interesting comment: “The driver has no respect for himself.”

If you’re like me, you would have thought: “Wait a minute. Don’t you mean ‘The driver has no respect for the security guard?’ ”

But on second thought, it became clear: if the driver had respect for himself, he wouldn’t have let his emotions get carried away to such a degree about something as little as being told he had to move his taxi.

Easier said than done, that’s for sure!

I know that I’ve gotten myself into more situations that I care to remember that have escalated beyond calm and that resulted in my feeling just horrible afterwards when I realise that I, too, share the blame or am to blame for what happened. That my lack of self-esteem or insecurity have caused me to lash out.

“The driver will regret his actions upon reflection later on,” my taxi driver commented, then shook his head sadly, as if he wished he could reach out and help this poor fellow driver. How true!

Self-respect begins with … the self!

If you’re like me, learning the lessons of life growing up was all about other people: do unto others as you want them to do unto you. The focus being on ‘others’. I equated self-respect with being ‘self-ish’ or ‘self-absorbed’, and as a result, I ignored my own self in favor of others.

How familiar does this sound to you?

When my daughter was 12, she was taking violin lessons. She had chosen to learn the violin and liked her teacher, but one particular day that summer, she was in a foul mood, and in the afternoon before her lesson, she had gone into her bedroom and closed and locked the door while she did her homework. (Actually, I have no idea what she was doing in there, but respected her decision to be alone for awhile.) I watched the clock and waited, sensing that an almighty battle was on the horizon.

About 15 minutes before the lesson, I knocked on her door to remind her it was nearly time to leave. Silence.

Ten minutes before the lesson I tried again. This time, she proclaimed she wasn’t going to the lesson and nothing I could do would make her go.  The gauntlet had been thrown!

In my mind, I was thinking: “Oh yes, you will!  It is too late to cancel and I am not calling to say you’re not going! I paid good money for these lessons and you will get yourself down there NOW! Your teacher is waiting for you! I will not be embarrassed!”

And it wasn’t all focused on “I” and “your teacher”. Oh no! I did put the focus on her, but it was all negative: “You will stop being unreasonable and go! You have no reason to be in such a foul mood! What do you think you’re trying to accomplish!”

Suddenly it occurred to me that this had nothing to do with me.  Or with her teacher.  Or with the violin. But it did have everything to do her, and I had a great opportunity to show her that. I took a deep breath.

“I know you will go, and you know how I know?” I said calmly through the door.

Silence.

I waited patiently, saying nothing.  (Where did this calm come from, I wondered?!)

I knew she was thinking of all the possible ways I would have for prying open the door and dragging her out forcibly, and she’d be dying to know so that she could tell me how it was NEVER going to happen.

“How?” she finally demanded to know.

“I know, because I know you.” I said.

“Hah! You think you know me, but you don’t know me!” she shot back.

“Well, I know you are a respectful, responsible girl,” I said matter-of-factly. “I know that you like your teacher and you won’t want to make her wait without knowing what is going on. I know that you will regret my calling to say you aren’t coming, because you know that I won’t lie to your teacher and make up some bogus excuse. I will just say you aren’t coming, and she will wonder why and next time will ask you what happened. I know you won’t want to lie to your teacher, you won’t make up some excuse for why you can’t go today. I know that you won’t do that, because I know that you are a respectful, responsible girl.”

Silence.

Now I’d love to be able to say that she immediately acquiesced and opened her door and went skipping off happily to violin class, but it didn’t happen quite that way. There was a lot more back and forth through that closed door before that happened, but what’s important is that it did happen, and it happened because she came to realise that it was about HER and how SHE was going to behave. It wasn’t about me, or me telling her about how to behave or ranting about the money or the teacher. It was making her realise that she HERSELF had the power to decide how to behave and to take responsibility for her actions in a way that would give her no reason to feel remorse and regret later.

I am still amazed that I handled that situation so well that day, and didn’t end up spewing all the turbulent thoughts that were raging in my brain.  I’d have to say it is all because of that one taxi ride, and the memory of my driver saying: “That driver has no respect for himself.”

To be continued….

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Which ice cream cone are you?

Posted on July 27, 2012 by Sue Marguerite

On a hot summer’s day about eight years ago, I had an epiphany.

To beat the heat, we had gone to Times Square in Causeway Bay to do some shopping with the kids. Just as we were about to leave we spotted an ice cream shop that sold trendy Japanese ice cream that staff transform into gigantic pyramids atop square sugar cones.  We just had to have some.

We were eagerly lapping our 6-inch-high pointed confections when my husband suddenly remembered that the meter where he had parked the car would soon run out. We quickly left the mall and, as usual, my husband and daughter steamed ahead while my son and I took our time.

We hadn’t gone far when my son stopped because his ice cream was dripping all over the cone, his hand, and down his arm and clothes.  I stopped to help him, while trying in vain to control my own melting cone.  It was quite a task holding shopping bags, stemming the tide of two ice cream cones, and at the same time fishing for tissue in my black hole of a purse.

Being more than I could handle, I called out to my husband and daughter:  “Wait!  I need your help!”

Hearing my cry, they turned in unison. The first thing that struck me was their twin display of perfectly groomed cones.  I was in awe. Perfectly licked with not a drip in sight, their cones looked almost like the plastic ones displayed at the ice cream shop!  How was that possible?

This is a 'cool' cone.

This is a ‘cool’ cone. Notice the perfectly polished nails!

Instead of running back to help (as I would have done), they stood there in shock with a look of horror on their faces.

Help!” I called again, then pleaded with my eyes, since I couldn’t keep yelling at them from across the plaza. I looked at my son and we burst out laughing at how out-of-control our cones were becoming.

This is a ‘bumbler’ cone!

That did it, I guess, for my ‘cool’ husband and daughter.  They turned and started walking away!

My son looked at me in confusion, and I reassured him, saying: “Oh, never mind them.  They just don’t know how to have fun.”

We finally got ourselves reasonably cleaned up and made our way to the car where my husband and daughter were seated in cool air-conditioned comfort, waiting for us patiently.

“Why didn’t you help us?” I asked, more bemused than upset.

“Mom, seriously? Did you see yourselves?” my daughter replied.

“Why?  What’s the problem?” I countered.

“You are both such, such….bumblers!” she said, her face contorted in disgust, as if this were a thing to be avoided at all costs. She then tucked her hair neatly behind one ear, crossed her ankles daintily, and quietly went back to reading a book she had bought earlier that day.  My husband gave me a similar look (and a smile) in the rear-view mirror as he started the car.

After a minute (since I’m never quick with the comebacks), I declared smartly: “Well, you guys are just too ‘cool’ and actually a bit boring!”

They didn’t deign to reply.

I looked at my son and we both shrugged.  “Bumblers forever,” I whispered conspiratorially.

He nodded and we both grinned, confident that while we may not have perfect ice cream cones, we are perfect in our own way!

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What? Me, worry?

Posted on July 22, 2012 by Sue Marguerite

I don’t think of myself as someone who worries a lot, but when it comes to what I think people think of me, I can be a basket case.

Yet contrary to what many people have told me — that this is because I lack self-confidence — I don’t think that’s true.  It’s not because I don’t have self-confidence, it’s because I genuinely care and want to make other people happy.  Is that a bad thing?

Well, it depends.

I think some people are just ‘born to make you happy’, as Britney Spears sang about.  They are the ‘givers’, the ‘sweet kids who would do anything for you’.

I’m like that; that is just who I am.

I need people.  And I want people to need me.  This is never going to change.

Barbara Streisand sang that ‘people who need people are the luckiest people in the world’.  If that’s true, why do so many people tell me that I’m gullible and naive and I have got to throw away my rose-colored glasses, grow up and live in the ‘real world’ (even though technically I’ve already grown up)?

Why don’t I hear more people saying: “Wow, you are so lucky!”

I get it — there are bad people out there — people who are immoral, hateful, ‘damaged’ themselves and just want company, or those who enjoy hurting other people (especially those whom they think are easy targets, like me).

I read a great quote once, something like:  “Just because you’re a vegetarian, doesn’t mean the bull won’t charge at you.”

But here’s the thing — I never said I didn’t want the bull to charge.  What most people don’t realize, I think, is that nice people can be a lot stronger than they let on.  We have morals; we have principles. Just because it may seem that we want to be friends with everyone, and we want everyone to like us, there’s a line we won’t cross.  We’re not stupid.

Unless, perhaps, our self-esteem has been broken by people close to us who are supposed to love us telling us that we’re dumb for being this way.

Parents, relatives and well-intentioned friends who, in trying to protect us, ultimately hurt us by cutting us down and saying that we’re gullible, naive and, well, stupid for trusting people and being ‘nice’.  Then telling us that we have to basically change who we are.

The sad thing is, because we need people to like us, all of those well-intentioned remarks can have the opposite effect.

Why?  Well, first of all, there is the ‘love hierarchy’, and parents are at the top. If we can’t get that, we go down a level to friends. If we can’t fill our love tanks* there, we go down even further, and further, until we find someone who will fill that basic need.  More often than not, we go farther off the rails.  Even if we know it’s wrong.  And we may never admit it to you — you’re the one who told us we’re basically stupid for being so nice.  Our need for love and approval may make us do things we don’t want to do.

When people tell me (or their kids or friends) to ‘grow up’ and realize the ‘world is a bad place’, I think to myself, “Why do WE have to change?

Why not tell us how lucky we are that we see the world for it’s possibilities and not its negativities?  Why not tell us how you wish you could be more like us, and most importantly, that you’ll be there for us when we do get charged by a bull – helping us to see how we can do better next time; choose better friends; help us see how they don’t matter, but you do?

Because from my point of view, it’s not ME who has to change — I mean, as  Natalie Portman said in Where the Heart Is: “we all have good and bad inside of us, and the good that’s the only thing worth living for”.

I’m living for the good. And I’m thankful that those closest to me understand and support that. Because I just don’t see how being more like the bad will make this world a better place.

*For more on filling up our ‘love tanks’, check out the ‘Love Language’ series of books by Dr. Gary Chapman.

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