When I volunteered to do my first book review (thanks MomCentral for trusting me not to botch this too badly), little did I know that I would be presented with the perfect tool to deal with my own botched, but insanely wonderful, family. As a mother of four, the eldest of which is special needs, I am constantly scratching my head trying to figure out why I seem to be floundering so badly in the parenting department.

Sara Dimerman, Dip, C.S., C.Psych.Assoc., the founder and Director of The Parent Education and Resource Centre and a child and family therapy expert for canadianparents.com, has gifted me and millions of other half-witted struggling parents with Character is the Key.

A book written by a parent, for a parent and everyone else who has the desire to see the children of today develop in productive and valuable members of society, Ms. Dimerman identifies the ten most desirable character traits we would most like to see in our offspring and commits the rest of the book as a how-to manual outlining the steps needed to achieve this.

While initially skeptical that I would find anything that would be applicable to my perfect, ‘Leave it to Beaver’ family (*snort*), I am almost too embarrassed and ashamed to admit that I found myself cringing as the awful truth dawned on me…I did have more control over my children’s character, their morals and their values than I fully appreciated. As Ms. Dimerman so eloquently and gently (thank you) points out, WE as parents are the templates of behaviour role modeling that are most responsible in influencing the finished product that will be our adult children.

This is one of the best parenting books I’ve ever read. While most of the advice is common sense and easy to implement, it would be a mistake to believe that this book wouldn’t be beneficial for all families whether they are composed of the traditional mom/dad/kids format or not. Ms. Dimerman even devotes an entire chapter about co-parenting effectively when the parents are divorced…that chapter alone is an invaluable bit of advice for those of us who are unlucky enough to attempt to make sense of the non-traditional family of our own.

An easy read with short, concise chapters, Character is the Key is neatly laid out in a logical and easy to navigate format for those of us with little time and even shorter attention spans…I know, I’m one of them. I devoured this little gem in about two days and quickly got to work convincing my family to engage in the step-by-step process that promised to “bring your family together, improve communication, and unlock the very best in your children”.

Character is the Key should be required reading for all parents and I would love to see it in the Welcome Wagon basket new parents get upon leaving the hospital with their newborn.

Heck, I’m tempted to buy out the stock at Amazon and hand them out at my kids’ schools.

I won’t lie and say we’re all cured and spending our evenings singing around the piano after a day working side by side in the fields, but after some initial reluctance and ridicule, especially on the part of my teenagers, I can see some positive changes which have only strengthened my resolve to continue with this new journey.

While this book has been alternatively a god-send and eye-opener for me, I have learned so much about myself and how important and influential I am to my family. Still a work in progress, all of us, but it’s a start.

Cate over at ShowMyFace has provided the perfect opportunity for me unclog the ‘blogstipation’ I am currently suffering with…the cramps are killing me.

Blogstipation

I’ve read it all over the blogosphere at one time or another. Obviously if you have any sort of life outside of the cyberworld, distractions and duties can take their toll.

As is patently obvious from my last posting, things have not been so smooth over in my world. Juggling four children, two of whom are teenagers, is not a job for pussies. One of those children being ‘blessed’ with autism AND muddling his way through adolescence and first love, provides an additional layer of nuttiness to the chaos.

So…bear with me. Don’t go away. I will be back. I promise.

Just as soon as I can get my head dislodged from my ass.

We are individuals. We journey into this world alone and we leave it alone. It’s all about survival. We are biological entities whose main interest is survival above all else. Of course I love my husband and kids; I love them more than anything. I would gladly take a bullet for any of them without a second thought.

But my husband has this irritating habit of frequently stating “It’s not all about you, you know”. I usually take this bit of criticism, flip him the bird (in my mind) and humbly acknowledge that nothing is about me at all and how could I be so selfish as to consider my self interests at all.

So today I snapped.

When did my Person Card expire? When I got married? When I had children? When I was born a girl in the first place?

Ok, maybe I’m a bit of a navel gazer. I’m not above admitting that I am inherently flawed. But let’s put it this way-they don’t tell you to put that oxygen mask on your face first, before attempting to help anyone else, just for the sake of pre-flight entertainment.

How many women do you know that have taken this martyrdom to heart and have become haggard, irritable, stressed-out shells of their former selves? Are they honestly better wives, mothers, daughters, or friends because they have relegated their needs to the bottom rung of the ladder?

I don’t know, ask their husbands and kids but make sure the biotch ever-suffering mom isn’t around or at least make sure to hide potential weapons first.

I had a mom like this; she had a mom like this. I have friends, relatives and neighbors like this. It’s not pretty. It’s exhausting, exasperating and frankly fucking idiotic.

If I’ve learned anything about life since I entered my 40′s it’s this…it’s every man for him/herself!

Put on that oxygen mask ladies, your loved ones will thank you and will probably stop hiding the knives.

Now if you people want to read my random thoughts about being a married middle-aged mom of four you can go here. If you want to read about my pathetic attempts to get and keep this old corpse whipped into shape, you can find those stories here.

I am going to wholly dedicate this blog to that topic which is never far from my thoughts, and becoming distressingly evident on my face…AGING.

I intend to scour the internet, the newspapers, the magazines and within the Stepford Wives circle that are my kids friends moms (did that sentence make any sense?) and try to give you the best of the best.

I don’t know about you, but aging scares the f*ck out of me. Call me vain. Call me shallow. But just don’t ever call me OLD!

By the end of that week, I felt jittery, irritable, jumpy and just plain shitty. I could not figure out what my problem was. Not PMS, not alcohol withdrawal (though camping does entail a bit of imbibing) and something a bit more than just plain bitchiness.

Holy crap, I was actually going through exercise withdrawal. I mean, I had heard other runners talking about the ‘runner’s high’ and being ‘addicted’ to the sport but I really didn’t pay much attention to it…everyone tends to wax prosaic about their chosen obsession.

A quick Google search came up with scads of articles debating whether or not this ‘addiction-withdrawal’ phenomenon actually exists. A great article in the Science Daily published in March 2008 discusses a study that seems to confirm what the majority of us long distance runners have known all along…it bloody well DOES exist.

As if I needed another reason to run?

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• No Matter Why…Just Keep Running (runnerslounge.com)

I LOVE to shop. It’s my Valium washed down with a Cosmo, I swear. Shopping with a pre-pubescent Miley Cyrus wanna-be and a 13 year old who seriously thinks her mother is beyond redemption is not my favorite way to part with my cash but a necessary evil forced upon me as penance for the torture I inflicted on MY parents. Apparently I’m not one of the lucky ones with horseshoes up my ass.

Casually flipping through the clothing I had this flash of deja vu…I looked up and around the store-Leggings, big sweaters and sweatshirts, flannel shirts, hip slung belts, ankle boots, wristlet purses, LEG WARMERS, short jackets and skinny jeans. The only thing missing were sequined gloves, tube skirts and pointy flats. Holy crap…it’s the 80′s revisited!

OH MY FUCKING GOD! It can’t be true. I have officially been around long enough to see a trend come around twice. My daughters are going to be wearing the clothing that I wore when I was a young adult. Kill me now.

To add insult to injury, they insisted on informing me that I had “no idea” how these outfits went together and that all of my suggestions were completely irrelevant and “pathetic”.

Are you kidding me? I wore these outfits to nightclubs and university flings. I danced my face off to Madonna, The Cure, The Psychedelic Furs, U2, OMD, Michael Jackson in my flannel shirt, hip slung belt, tube skirt, pointy flat shoes and lace fingerless gloves. I was HOT!

I can’t be old enough for this to have happened. I know my birth certificate says that I am 43 but really, I’m still 19 inside. I’m too young and immature to have four children, a husband and a mortgage. Someone is going to find me out and tell me it’s all a mistake…really…aren’t they?

Aging sucks ass.