Happy birthday, Burrell and Calli!

Oh crap. I am a bad and random Buffista.

Happy Birthday Burrell! Happy Birthday, Calli!

And Allyson, I’m so sorry to hear about your family’s troubles. Brenda, sorry to hear how stressed you are about your own, too.

That's my oldest kid. He's still completely resistant to anything that doesn't come naturally or easily.

I have one of those, but she's been working on overcoming that habit. Best motivator has been athletic endeavors like jumping rope and riding a bike, because she can see for herself the improvement that comes with practice.

The internet tells me that we're having another rapture on Friday. Or the actual one. So I thought I'd check in and see if anyone has rapture plans or what.

I have dinner plans Friday. Not sure which I'd prefer, to be left behind so I can enjoy my dinner or be raptured away so I can avoid my grading.

I've never praised my kids a lot.

I do make sure they feel very loved. I'm not stingy with love.

But especially when they want some ego-strokes for doing something that I think they're supposed to do, I usually just say, "Good job."

Emmett had a lot of success in baseball. He hit a grand slam in a district championship game, hit a game-winner in a sectional championship and tied for the team lead in RBIs on a state championship team. But, the two things I really praised him for in baseball were (a) dealing with his fear of getting hit by the ball in that same season where he had those successes; (b) his catching in the state championship game which was not about talent but all about hard hard work, blocking dozens of pitches in the dirt with the tying run on base.

The one thing I will praise a lot is kindness and thoughtfulness. Otherwise, "Good job."

When I was an instructional coach we did a ton of stuff around the Dweck research. It's interesting and noteworthy and hard to implement.

I think parents default to the "you're smart!" for a bunch of reasons including it's easy, it's pat, but also it's a piece of "you're a reflection of me." Which leads me to the wonderful and devastating piece in the NYT about the mom with a little one who has Tay-Sachs. If you haven't read it, you should.

I came in to check on msbelle post-world series game. I hope she's okay.

Allyson, I'm sorry about all of the stress and bad-stuff in your family. How is your mom holding up?

Oh Kat, I read that article and it broke my heart. I just...I don’t even know.

I don't either. I certainly am not a member of that spectrum, but she's a mom in my tribe, you know.

I realized this a few weeks ago, that parents of broken kids have a totally different bar. We don't do play dates because it's depressing as hell. We don't worry about whether or not our kid is going to learn enough to go to a great college. We don't even wonder what their kids will be like. Because, that's not what this is about for us. That's not what the future looks like for some of our kids. And there's a lot of those moms and dads out there who live with, "Can we make it today?"

I have been writing a story about a parent who looks at a kid who is broken and sick and damaged and walks away, not because they are heartless, but because they can't afford to love someone who will break their heart, not once or a hundred times, but every day they are alive, because they can't give up that hope.

That op-ed piece is wrenching and beautiful. I wonder what her book must be like.

Related depressing post:

This weekend at the marathon (which was a giant - to the tune of $118 million -- fundraiser for the leukemia and lymphoma society), I walked behind a mom who had a picture of her elementary aged son on her back who had died. I cannot imagine that. I was teary for a bit while walking behind her.

As hard as things with Grace can be, as frustrating and worry-filled, we are still so very blessed.

Happy birthday, Burrell and Calli!

I'm sorry about the excess of family drama, Allyson. I hope your mom is doing better.

I had a bad time my first two years of college, because I had never had to work at school work before. I didn't have the foggiest idea how. My problem certainly wasn't an excess of praise from my parents, though.