Leon Scott Baxter's Blog, page 2

Parenting: A Job You Can't Just Brush Off

If you are fortunate enough to share parenting with a partner, I profoundly believe that the relationship that you forge and maintain is an integral part of modeling relationships for your offspring. So, of course, if we want our children to one day find a partner, build a strong foundation with them, and have a happy and romantic connection, we as parents need to model that.

Today, I'd like to share a story of how I modeled patience and composure in the face of "adversity" on a family trip last week. First, you should know I have been married to my wife, Mary, for twenty-four years. We met the first day of college, and were a couple without children for the first seven years of our marriage. She's my best friend and we love being with one another. I love that our daughters get to see this. Also, I'm a bit of a germophobe.

Last week, we took our two girls (12 and 17) and a friend each on a road trip: Universal Studios, a tour of UC Irvine, then a couple of nights in Palm Springs. When I'm at home I brush with one of those electric Sonicare brushes, but when we travel I generally bring a regular toothbrush. I keep it in a zipper plastic bag, but I don't like to use it and put it back in the bag. I feel as though if I zip it up wet, the moisture will make any bacteria grow rapidly, making my next brushing a mouth full of bristles, toothpaste and germs.

So, on our last night in Palm Springs, I get up early and brush my teeth, leaving my brush on the bag in order for it to dry before I pack it for our trip back home. I spend the quiet morning checking my emails and reading as everyone else in our party sleeps. 

Eventually, people slowly wipe the sleep from their eyes. Showers are taken. Pajamas are exchanged for outfits for the drive home. I'm pretty much packed, just need to throw my toiletries together and I'll be good. I enter the bathroom only to find Mary brushing her teeth... with my brush!

"What are you doing?!" I ask.

"Brushing my teeth," Mary garbles with a mouthful of Crest.

"With my brush?" I respond.

She looks at the brush, then shrugs and says, "Sorry, I didn't notice." So, what does this mean?
1. Although I love my wife, there are a few things we just don't do: fart in front of one another, poop while the other is taking a shower, and use each other's toothbrush. So, she crossed that line and got her plaque bacteria on my brush.
2. Since she hadn't noticed, I wonder how many other times on this trip had she used my brush and I was unaware. And,
3. Now, my brush was wet and I couldn't zip it in a bag for fear of accelerating the regeneration of her mouth germs on my brush.

Here's the parenting part: although she broached an area that we have always avoided, I laughed it off, and made a big joke out of it in front of the girls. And, really, it was rather funny. It's just my own idiosyncrasy. I mean, I kiss the woman for goodness sake. My girls got to see how we can have fun in situations that could escalate in a direction that could turn ugly.

And, you may wonder what I did about the wet brush... I used the hotel hair dryer and stuffed the brush in the bag and off to home we headed.

image courtesy of ©MorgueFile.com/ronnieb

Did I Ask Too Much of My Teen?

I'm torn. My wife, Mary, and I have been married for 24 years. It's been a wonderful marriage: best friends, romantic, very loving. When we were dating, we spoke of marriage and just agreed that we'd tie the knot. So, I never officially proposed to her. 

Over the years, I've created many elaborate romantic adventures and even wrote books on romance and relationships. So, everyone wants to know how I proposed to Mary, and I have to tell them that I never did.

Mary and I will have been married 25 years in 2017, and we knew very early on in our marriage that we'd renew our vows that year. So, about three years ago I came up with a plan, to finally propose to Mary for our second wedding, and I'd go big...with a flashmob.

There would be hidden cameras, an embarrassing scenario, a drummer, music, dancing, and of course a heartfelt speech that would lead to the long-awaited proposal.

I enlisted the help of my then-16-year old daughter, Riley. She said she would do whatever I needed to get this done. So, her jobs included choreographing the dance, finding dancers, setting up one of the hidden cameras, editing the video, and being the go-to person two hours before the event at the flashmob location in order to work out the final details... a lot for a teen to do.

My daughter is fully capable. She's incredibly smart. She runs her own business. Has a GPA over 4.0. She's responsible. Doesn't drink (that I know of). Gets her homework done. Etc...

Yet, she really struggled making sure her ducks were in a row for this event, even after I gave her step-by-step instructions. At one point, after setting the date and getting all the key players in order, she told me she had to change the date because she'd be away during that time for a trip with her friend's family. HUGE NIGHTMARE! I had to start back at square one and reschedule everything (turned out she didn't go on the trip).

As it came down to the wire, the thirty dancers she contacted (15 of which she knew would show up) became two dancers. The rest weren't doing it. 

My frustration? These things could have been avoided had she thought like I do. And, that's where I am torn, not because she's not me, but because should I really have expected her to take on adult-level responsibilities? She's as tall as an adult. She drives a car like an adult. She earns her own money like an adult. But, her brain is still not fully developed, I have learned (this whole pre-frontal cortex thing).

She has difficulty seeing the Big Picture, understanding the possible obstacles in a path, and planning now for tomorrow. She lives in the moment, and everything will work out one way or another, in her mind. In her mind my concerns are unwarranted. I'm just an old man who worries too much, but I know I'm actually an old man who has experienced 30 more years than she, and know what to expect when you don't know what to expect.

I wondered if this was just a Riley-thing. She's been so very successful in life. Things seem to come easily to her. So, when I asked her to help, did she think that it would all just work out, because so much of her life seems to go this way? Or, is this a teen-thing? Do most teens just worry about their immediate concerns and put off future plans thinking I'll get to it later?

She didn't pull it off as well as I would have wanted. I was very stressed. But, did I ask too much of her? Did  I expect too much from my teen daughter? 

As it turned out, we got a handful of dancers and the flashmob and proposal was a huge success after all (you can see it above). But, now I look at my daughter through a different lens. I love her to death, but I question her responsibility. What do you think?

I Want To Express My Pride In My Teen...But She Won't Let Me

I've struggled many times with being the father of a teenage girl. I thought that as my teen got closer to graduating high school, leaving the house, and becoming an adult, she'd act more like an adult, but at seventeen-years old, she seems less and less like an adult each day.

She can't remember to empty the dishes each morning from the dishwasher. Her room's always a mess, and she rarely acknowledges anyone else in the immediate family (me, my wife, and her little sister) unless we are doing something for her, or she has exciting news to tell us.

Yesterday, after practicing her driving skills for months with her driver's permit in her glove box, she finally had her driver's test to obtain her official driver's license. I was prepared for her to pass, bringing with me gift cards I had for frozen yogurt (to celebrate her passing her test) and my camera (no, I don't use a smart phone) to take a photo of her with her holding temporary license in front of the car she/we bought last month.

When she finished her test, she had a sad look on her face, but it seemed too sad, so I knew she was trying to fool us. She'd passed her driver's test! She was now a licensed driver: an exciting, yet scary reality as a parent.

So, I told her we'd celebrate by going out for frozen yogurt. When we got to the shop, I asked her to pose in front of her car with her temporary license for a photo as I had planned. She seemed a bit hesitant at first, but eventually stood by her open car door smiling. As I lifted the camera to my eye, she said, "Please don't post this anywhere."

I was shocked. "What do you mean?"

"No," she responded, "I just don't want you to post it."

It was the last straw for me, and I got upset, didn't take the photo and stormed in to the shop to drown my sorrows in a cup of strawberry fro-yo. 

Why had I reacted so childish to her request? I did a bit of self-analyzing afterward and realized that my baby had grown up, but hasn't been the respectful, responsible young lady I had imagined she'd grow up to be. Instead, she was a teenager...not her fault, but I expected more from her. And, when she said she didn't want me to share the photo that I never took, I realized it upset me because that was one of my last parental pleasures... being able to be the doting dad and express my pride in my daughter.

She took that away from me. My wife explained to me, "She's just being a teenager," and, logically I know it. But, if she doesn't need a ride any longer, is going off to college in a year, doesn't seem to listen or participate in conversations with the family, goes out to eat with her friends, neglects her chores, misses family activities, and now won't let me even express my pride in her accomplishments, what do I have left as a dad: punishments, consequences, rules, the negative stuff? Is that what I do for the last year of her living at home?

I don't want that. I may be selfish, but I want to stay connected with my daughter, and I want to be able to show the world that she passed her driving test on the first try. 

image courtesy of @morguefile.com/anitapeppers

Social Independence on The Fourth With My Tween

My youngest daughter, Grace, is twelve-years old. When she was a baby, she was all over the place, very different from her older sister. When she nursed, she couldn't stay still. She squirmed and had to see everything. As she got older, she cried about everything. There was no middle ground for her. If it wasn't just right, it was a disaster in her eyes, and the tears would flow.

When she got into kindergarten and grade school, she would blow up and become upset at what the other kids thought were things that should just roll off her back. As a result, a lot of kids didn't particularly want to play with my daughter.

And, for the first nine-years of her life, although I loved Grace dearly, I couldn't understand her. I didn't get how she wouldn't let things go and how the littlest of things (in my eyes) would devastate her.

Around fourth grade, I began to realize that this is just the way she was built. She wasn't doing it on purpose. She didn't want to be this upset, and so I started to empathize with her as she started to grow out of this part of her life a bit. But, the damage had been done already, at least socially. 

She was already known as "that girl who always cried." So, trying to make strong friendships was still difficult for her, although she was holding things together at school and around her peers. When she went to junior high school this last fall, she met peers who didn't know her past and discovered Grace as the girl she had become, not the girl she had been. And, she started making really wonderful friendships. The funny thing is, once some of the girls she had tried to forge friendships with in grade school saw that these new girls accepted and really appreciated Grace, they came around and started to see her in a new light as well.

I am writing this today because yesterday was Independence Day. We went to a local family-friendly Fourth of July event at a park. There was food, games, activities, contests, music, and of course, fireworks. Grace brought one of her new friends, and met up with another friend she had made this year (who brought along another girl new to Grace). 

It was the most wonderful thing to see the four of them hanging out together, making fun of the "old people" (namely me and my wife) dancing to "really old music", taking selfies, laughing and just being tweens. I know that Grace has longed for this kind of social interaction growing up watching her older sister, now seventeen, having these kinds of experiences. 

It makes me feel so comfortable knowing that Grace will continue to forge close friendships as she continues to get older. She's still very emotional. Things upset her quickly, but she handles them better than ever. More importantly, she has friends who love her for who she is...just like me.

image courtesy of https://pixabay.com/en/best-friends-c...

Still Hiding Stuff From The Girls

My daughters are twelve and seventeen. It seems like a lifetime ago when my wife and I had to put safety latches on all the cupboards and drawers. We had to make sure that we moved anything that could be dangerous if ingested out of their reach. Any sharp objects had to be up high or hidden for their safety.

I remember the day when we could remove the latches and locks, when we could put items back in their proper places. I never thought I'd have to move items out of my girls' reaches again...but, that's where we are now.

No, it's not the liquor in the house. It's not weapons or cigarettes, because we don't have either. 

"Where is the tape dispenser?! Does anyone know where the tape dispenser is?" I remember bellowing a few months ago.

My two, wonderful and innocent angels responded, "No," not looking up from their phones. "I haven't seen it," added the twelve-year old. 

Where could it be, I wonder. I ask my wife. I look all over the home office. I check the bathroom, the garage, even the refrigerator. Then, on a whim, I check the girls' rooms. What do you know? That same 12-year old who told me she hadn't seen it, had left it on the desk in her room. "How'd it get there?" She asks.

Not long after, a similar situation occurs with the Apple TV remote. "I haven't used it in months," says one of my cherubs. Yet, after an extensive search, I find it wedged between the cushions precisely on the sofa where said cherub generally resides. 

Then, last week, I'm looking to grab the tweezers out of my bathroom, the personal sanctuary that my wife and I share off of our bedroom, to rid myself of the surprise hairs that emerge as we hit a certain age. No go. I go through this now regular questioning of suspects (my daughters), to which I get the same response: "Wasn't me." 

I go into my seventeen-year old's room two days later to ask her a question, and my eagle-eye spots the tweezers under a pile of papers, dirty dishes, and clothes on her computer desk. "There are my tweezers," I exclaim.

"Oops, my bad," she says.

And, that's what precipitated the change in our home. We now have hiding places for our tape, tweezers and remote control...high and out of reach from our "little angels." It might be time for us to invest in a drawer lock again. Guess what comes around, goes around.


​image courtesy of ©MorgueFile.com/Alvimann

Being Their Dad Saved Me: A Father's Day Story

I've always been my kids' hero. They looked up to me. I was bigger, and stronger, and I knew stuff they didn't. If something went wrong or if something was scary, my daughters came to me to feel safe.

Both of my girls, now 12 and 17, have had to deal with OCD and anxiety issues. When we discovered our oldest was struggling with OCD eleven years ago, it was a very scary time. I didn't know how to help her, but it was my job to figure it out. So, with the help of my wife, I did research. I humanized the OCD so she could understand it. I even wrote a fun, yet helpful, children's story about a girl suffering in a similar way as my daughter. And, through some really tough times, we have learned to harness her OCD.

When the younger one started exhibiting similar anxiety issues, we had an arsenal to start with in order to combat this disorder. And, my girls always looked to me as the guy who has helped them through these troubles. 

That's my job as "Dad". I'm the protector, the one to come to when help is needed. But, then, not long ago, I was taken down a notch or two. 

I started suffering from insomnia. It wasn't bad at first. To be honest, I didn't even think it was a real issue, but it progressed slowly. Then about a month ago, it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I was suddenly a walking zombie. I couldn't function. I was always tired. My brain wouldn't work at the speed it normally could, and it wasn't nearly as sharp. I was forgetting things, and my train of thought was often derailed. 

Suddenly, I was no longer my daughters' hero...at least in my eyes. How could I be? How could I be there for them when I needed someone there for me? I was too tired to go to the amusement park. I had to opt out of a trip to Yosemite. What would this mean to our relationship, I wondered. Would I be that guy who was listless and never did anything with his daughters, and they would remember the man that I used to be?

I was so afraid that "Dad" would mean something new in their eyes. And, I didn't want that. 

So, I decided to attack the problem the same way I would if my daughters were the ones suffering, because, the truth is, they would be suffering if I didn't get this under control. So, I did research. I spoke with professionals. I tried this idea and I tried that technique, and as I started to see a light at the end of the tunnel, I started to see dark at the end of the night...I began sleeping again.

I'm not exactly where I want to be yet as far as sleeping, but I am right back where I want to be as "Dad": going to amusement parks, planning summer trips and having the relationship with my girls that I want. 

My issue is a common one, and could happen to anyone at anytime. I don't know if I would have been able to pull myself out of it so quickly had it not been for my daughters, had it not been for the desire to keep the relationship with them that I'd forged all their lives. Being a dad saved me. My daughters saved me.

Teens Appreciate Us Even When They Don't Show It

My eldest daughter recently turned seventeen. She's at the age where friends are her entire world. We are fortunate that she has wonderful friends, but all she wants to do is be with them, talk with them, FaceTime with them, and text them. She's very expressive with her friends.

Yet, when it comes to me and her mom, she's far less expressive. She doesn't offer much. We're always asking her about things. And, she's polite, but often shrugs or offers monosyllabic answers. This has been going on for two or three years now. We love Riley to death, and we know she loves us, as well, but she just rarely shows it.

So, when I start to feel down about how she no longer snuggles up to me, and tells me she loves me, and wants to tell me all about her day, I remember back to a class assignment she had last year, when she was sixteen (caught up in her social circles then as she is now). One of the questions of the assignment was: "Describe an important person in your life and why they are important to you."

She had shared the assignment with me once it had been graded and returned. I go back to this whenever I start to miss my "little girl". She wrote:

"An important person in my life is my dad for a variety of reasons. My dad is the reason I was able to start my charity, begin my business and stay so motivated. When I was little, my dad introduced me to the things I could be doing in the community and found me an overwhelming amount of opportunities. I am where I am today because of his support and help. My dad is my number one fan and he is right by my side, cheering me on in everything I do."

I hold on to this, because a year ago I wondered if she still needed me, and appreciated me, like I do at times today. This proved that she did, and it makes me feel good to think that she still does. Teens may not show their appreciation, but apparently they still feel it.

image courtesy of ​https://www.flickr.com/photos/lenifuzhead/64070148

I'm Not A Real Adult Yet

I'm supposed to be the grown-up, but, really that's not fair. The only reason I'm supposed to be the grown-up is because I'm old...that's it! Not fair! You know what I mean. People look at us (our kids, especially) and they see what we saw when we looked at our parents: old people who apparently knew what they were doing. But, you and I both know that we're not as confident as we may appear at times, and we definitely don't feel as old as our bodies dictate.

My seventeen year old, Riley, is working on a major video project, and she asked her little sister, Grace, the twelve-year old to help her by creating some kind of video animation or something technical that I don't understand (guess I really am old). Grace just loves her older sister and wants so badly to make her happy when she's asked a favor from her. So, Grace enters Riley's room today and asks if the animation was sufficient. And, Big Sis doesn't even look up at her and shrugs. Grace asks if Riley would like her to fix anything. Riley says, "I don't know."

Now, I'm mad. Grace comes back and says that she doesn't like how her sister is treating her. I tell her that she's just learned that next time Riley asks a favor, she should politely decline (which, I know Grace would never do...she loves Riley far too much). But, I'm angry because although Riley is my daughter, she was blatantly rude to my other daughter, and that's not something I take lightly.

Well, about thirty minutes later, I'm telling a story to my lovely wife, Mary, when the twelve-year old enters briskly and starts to talk to her mom over me. I stop her and ask if this is an emergency, because I'm telling Mom a story. Grace looks at me and just continues to say what she wants to say. So, I tell her, "Maybe you didn't understand, but I am talking to your mother, and you are interrupting. That's acceptable if this is an emergency. That's why I asked. So, now, is this an emergency?"

Unbelievable. She ignores me again, and starts to talk to her mom. I can't believe this is a child I have raised. Where in the world did she learn this level of disrespect (interrupting has always been a huge pet-peeve of mine)? So, I lose it, and I revert back to the kid that's still inside me, and I go off telling her that I stood up for her when her sister was rude to her, but then she turns right around and is rude to me. I say that she's on her own from now on with the Big Sis thing. She can fend for herself. One rude turn deserves another.

I know...very mature. But, that just goes to show us (at least me) that there's a part of me that will remain that kid, that young person who is winging it, the boy who really doesn't know how to parent, but acts like he does. I think (pronounced "hope") we all have that child within us, and I'm saying that when he or she comes out, don't sweat it. Let him rant, then tell him it's bedtime. He just needs some sleep.

​image courtesy of ©MorgueFile.com/TheresaOtero

Thank You Letter to My Daughter on Her 17th Birthday

Dear Riley,

I have known you for seventeen years today. When we first met, you didn't know much of anything. Although I knew a bunch more than you that first day, you've given me many reasons to be grateful since then. 

Your mom and I were married seven years before we decided to meet you. People told us countless times during those years, "You need to be parents. You'll experience a kind of love you can't imagine." And, the people were right; unless you are parents, no one can imagine the kind of love you have brought into our lives.

So, thank you.

Thank you for allowing us to use you as our personal guinea pig, trying out what we learned from our own parents, what we'd read in books and articles, and what we made up on the spot.

Thank you for allowing us to make mistakes and still loving us, regardless.

Thank you for showing us, through your actions, that you thrive when you know your boundaries, in spite of telling us, we're being unfair.

Thank you for working hard, persevering, and finding successes in life, because, true or not, we can't help but think we had a hand in it.

Thank you for appreciating your successes because we let you experience your failures.

Thank you for saying, "I love you" every single day (although you often say it while looking down at your phone), for giving us hugs (and actually using your arms at times), and for giving us kisses (really cheek-touches wile smooching the air). it shows that you learned to respect family.

Thank you for being such a great role model to your little sister.

Thank you for challenging us respectfully (at times), because it shows you have a mind of your own and feel comfortable enough to state your beliefs (love those Power Point presentations you make to emphasize your positions).

Thank you for allowing us to experience a whole new facet of our lives, to learn parenting. It's been quite a journey and we're constantly learning along the way. And, we couldn't have asked for a better "teacher."

We love you. Happy Birthday!

-Love, Dad (and Mom)

image courtesy of ​http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=80234&picture=thank-you-text

When Bad Grades Are a Good Thing

Riley's a good student, a great student, really. She's a high school junior and was in the GATE program in elementary school. She too Honors classes in middle school. In high school she takes Honors course, AP classes, college prep work, as well as actual college classes.

She's received all A's (maybe there was one B) for as long as I can remember. Her weighted GPA hovers around 4.5. This summer all of that will start to pay off as she starts applying for colleges and scholarships...that is until this week when we received her latest progress report.

She's at a school with the block schedule, only four courses each semester, but they run longer than most at 90 minutes a class. Riley is only taking three courses, and her latest progress report showed that she not only had no A's, but had a B- in math, a C- in Business, and, get this, an F in History.

What the heck is this?! My wife and I have never seen anything on a report card with grades that would help spell "BIFOCAL" if they were Scrabble tiles. Angry? No. Surprised? Yes. There had to be some sort of mistake with the grading system. I'm sure we'll get it worked out soon.

We called Riley over to ask her about it. Turns out, it was no computer error. She explained each part: the B- was now a solid B, the Business teacher just hadn't inputted all his grades yet, in History she hadn't been participating, and she didn't realize that was a big part of class (really, you get an F for not raising your hand?.. I think there's more to this story). 

Riley asked, "Are you mad?" And, I honestly answered, "No, I'm just confused and a bit surprised." She explained that it would all be worked out by the end of the grading period.

Here's what I think: some of what she's said is legit, but I also think that she's been cruising all of her life through school, and since it's been so easy, thought she'd just coast by (especially in History).

I remember high school being easy for me, then when I went to college, I was smacked in the face with about a 2.0 GPA my first semester, because I hadn't been prepared early on to realize that although I could get by on my fast-thinking, charm and my incredibly good looks (okay, maybe I'm pushing it here) in high school, college was a totally different beast.

I'm glad that Riley is getting this taste of reality today, with enough time to make the proper shifts and create habits that will benefit her in college in a little over a year. So, there's my silver lining, my lemonade from lemons. Just keep your fingers crossed that in a month, BIFOCAL reads AARDVARK (three A's in that word...please disregard the D).


image courtesy of ​https://www.flickr.com/photos/docksidepress/240029788