Dear Annie,

My almost 6-year-old kindergartener daughter complains that I "always want her to be the best in the class." She doesn't like it if I correct any of her homework, which I am required to review and sign. She also doesn't like it if ask her if she understands something she is singing. (I ask her that because she goes to an immersion school and learns in another language.) Is it me? Is it her? What can I do to change myself and/or how I interact with her?

~Lisa

Dear Lisa,

Thanks for this wonderful question. I hear from so many parents who struggle with wanting to help their kids but worry about pressuring them too much. You're wise to realize that the "dance" you get into with your daughter around schoolwork is making her uncomfortable.

Give yourself credit for small acts of caring.

My to-do list has amazing regenerative powers. For each "to-do" I slash off, two more magically appear in its place. But whenever I have a day that feels particularly unproductive, I take a second to remember Lego Man’s hair.  Yes, you read that right: I’m talking about the tiny piece of plastic that fits on Lego figures’ heads. I call this to mind because of an incident that happened a few years ago on a not-so-wonderful day. 

My son Nick was about six at the time and I was keeping him company as he took a bath.  I was sitting with my back to the bathroom wall, rewriting one of several to-do lists I had read and refolded so many times it was falling apart.  I was not a happy camper, a state of mind Nick picked up on, because he asked, "What’s the matter, Mom?"

 "Oh, nothing, honey," I lied. "I’m just frustrated because I didn’t get anything done today."

Nick looked at me as though I were insane and said, "What do you mean, Mom? You did a lot!"

"Like what?" I asked.

"Don’t you remember?" he said, "You found Lego Man’s hair!"

 "Lego Man’s hair?" I asked, stalling for time.  Then it came to me: the 15-minute search on hands and knees under his bed and behind his chair and in his sneakers for a yellow, lentil-sized piece of plastic.  When I found it, Nick rejoiced like some crazed archaeologist celebrating the discovery of the Rosetta stone.

Of course, I had not bothered to put "Find Lego Man’s hair" on my to-do list, just as I had overlooked dozens of kid-oriented tasks and favors and treats and games that had clearly brightened Nick’s day.  Filtered through his more appreciative lens, my desultory day looked down-right productive - even successful.

As moms, we rarely give ourselves credit for the countless acts of kindness we perform every day.  "Picked green stuff out of rice" or "played 30 minutes of an excruciatingly boring game" or "wrestled kids into snowsuits"  doesn’t make it into our daily agendas, so our "to-do" list seems despressingly un-done.  But when we spend a few extra minutes indulging in a little playtime with our kids or we make a special meal or share a laugh, we are accomplishing much more than we realize.  It’s the little moments that mean the most.

Recent research may make your family’s food woes a littler easier to digest.

One study, from University College London, that looked at identical and fraternal twins, suggested that some children are genetically predisposed to shun new foods. This fear — known as food neophobia — may be a remnant from the days when humans had to scavenge for food and it was wise to be wary because that weird green plant could be toxic. Your toddler’s reaction to those weird green beans could actually be a response hardwired into his brain. That said, there are several related studies which suggest that parents should not decide "Johnny hates spinach" based on first impressions.  Unless a child rejects something at least 8 times (not in one meal!), don’t assume he’ll never grow to like that food.

Rethink family rituals.

When my kids were young, I was obsessed with a desire to have dinner as a family every single night.  I had read the research on the importance of family meals and despite the fact that Steve and I rarely managed to get home from work before 7 - closer to the kids’ bedtime than their dinnertime - I would attempt to throw some kind of meal on the table before the kids had a total meltdown. Suffice it to say, I rarely succeeded. I would then complain to Steve that we had to get home earlier, that depriving the kids of warm family-dinner memories would lead them straight to the psychiatrist’s couch, and so on and so on.  One night, Steve put his hands on my shoulders, looked me in the face, and said, "You’re in the wrong movie!" When I asked what he meant, he said wisely,"You’re holding up as the ideal the way your family bonded.  But our family is different, and the kids will have lots of warm memories - not necessarily the same as yours or mine."

He was right. When I was a child , dinners at my home were sacrosanct. My father, an obstetrician-gynecologist, was the only family member permitted to answer the phone during mealtimes, and even at holiday meals, there was no such thing as a "kids’ table." The idea was to share news, debate, laugh, and, of course, enjoy the food. But because my father’s profession kept him tied to home, we rarely spent weekends or vacations off the island of Manhattan. And though I certainly didn’t feel deprived, I realized that our kids - then 4 and 8 - had already spent long summers in the Adirondacks, traveled to Florida, visited relatives in California, and though their memories of family time were not necessarily guaranteed to be brighter than mine, they would be very different.

If you tend to compare your family’s routines and rituals with those of your own childhood and find them wanting, keep in mind that one of the joys of parenthood rests in scripting and directing your own movies, finding your own ways to be there for (and with) your kids, and accepting the ways in which you can’t.  That’s not to say you shouldn’t try to rekindle some of the traditions you enjoyed as a child, especially as a way of connecting your children to their grandparents’ generation, but incorporate only what works and feels right for your family.

How to use play to win bedtime battles, get kids to do chores, and more

I’ve met hundreds of mothers with kids of varying ages who suffer from the perfect mom fantasy, but it seems to cling with punishing tenacity during our children’s school years. Their lives are suddenly a lot busier, homework and after-school activities much more demanding, and when they feel the pressure, we do, too. Given the current state of the economy, many parents are working extra hours or trying to find ways to cut back on treats - like dinners out - so the dreaded "witching hour," between work/school and dinner/bedtime can be particularly rough.

Unfortunately, what often happens when we feel pressured or out of control is that we push the fun stuff aside and, instead, try to muscle through chores or meal prep or homework time - usually with grim determination. When your five-year-old whines for attention the minute you get home from work, you tell her to wait until after dinner and then you’ll play.  But after dinner, your 10-year-old needs help with his homework or it’s time for baths and then bedtime, so when your five-year-old complains again and refuses to get into her pajamas, you lose it. If this is not a familiar scenario, you can click to another part of this website.  But if it sounds like a variation on your family’s theme,  you may want to rethink your approach.

One of the simplest and most effective ways to make evenings go more smoothly is to play first, not last.  As tough as it may be to ignore the laundry or the fact that you need to make dinner and then pay bills and then… — JUST STOP! Then set aside 20 minutes before dinner to play a board game or read a book or simply snuggle on the couch with your kids.  If they’re starving, add a snack to the party, but make this downtime a regular part of your routine. Also, don’t forget that an adult’s chore (setting the table, sorting the laundry, using the Dustbuster to vacuum under the couch) is a child’s challenge - an opportunity to show off his grown-up skills, and every kid loves to be told "I bet you can’t sort that silverware before the timer goes off" or "I bet I can change into my PJs before you can!"   Play does more than grease the wheels, it provides opportunities to connect, to build skills, and - most important - to share a laugh, which is the absolute best medicine when we’re feeling burnt out.