Last night, my Mom and I took the kids to a local festival. It was America at it’s finest. We saw nicely dressed folks, and we saw others in Skynyrd shirts with their sleeves cut off. We saw tall, short, thin and robust. We saw mullets.

Food booths went as far as the eye could see, serving nothing but pure, artery-clogging cuisine. And, there were ridiculously overpriced, no-chance-to-win games, where the basketball is obviously bigger than the rim, yet we donate $5.00 anyway. My son did manage to win himself a stuffed dog by pulling a duck out of barrel. Though, that stuffed dog is so hard you could skip it on a lake, which is exactly what I might do with it.

After forking out $40.00 for tickets, we hit the Midway. Yikes. Most of the workers running the rides were smoking cigarettes, while sitting back in chairs with their feet propped up. They were nothing like the dapper, young, teenagers I usually see in charge of amusement park rides. These were seasoned professionals. Though, it appeared that more than a few of them had been working the Break-A-Plate game, and some fair-goers misread the sign and thought it was the Break-A-Carnies-Tooth game instead.

The kids and I took a white-knuckle ride on the Scrambler, which was being run by two men who “no speak good English”. I don’t remember the Scrambler actually scrambling, but this thing was as rickety as they come. I had to wonder if you needed to be able to read instructions to set it up, because I’m pretty sure they “no read good English” either.

The music was way too loud (Eddie Money was playing…what happened to him?), and it was hot, humid and sticky. When it was time to leave, I looked down at my kids, whose faces had been stuffed with hot dogs earlier, and were now covered with a mixture of bug spray, powdered sugar and funnel cake crumbs. And, after all the noise, sweat, smoke and chaos…they couldn’t have been happier.

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Last night, my husband and I had the good fortune to have dinner with Bill Beausay, author and clinical psychotherapist. Bill is a down-to-earth, easily approachable guy who is passionate about helping all of us help our kids. He has written quite a few books on the subject and had a lot of great advice. Here’s what I learned from Bill…

1. Your kids are not entitled to “things”. If your 15 year old wants a cell phone (iPod, laptop, etc.) because everyone else has one, tell him to go out and earn money to pay for it. Entitlement = Disservice

2. Don’t let your kid boss you around. When your toddler is screaming for a treat at the grocery store, DO NOT give in. This goes back to #1…make them earn it. And, just because a red face, stomping feet, and tears take a lot of effort, that doesn’t count as earning it.

3. Talk to your kids openly and honestly, and don’t wait to do it. I asked Bill about concerns I have for when our daughter starts high school in six years, and he said to start talking to her about those things NOW.

4. Spend time with your children. Watching American Idol together does not fill this requirement.

5. Faith is an important factor in raising a child. I was glad to hear this, as I have open conversations with God every day. Sometimes, that means praying together with the kids, but often, I’m just asking for mental strength to make it until bedtime.

6. Show your children you care. Hug them, kiss them, tell them you love them. They’re never too old to stop either. It makes your kids aware that you’re there for them…always.

No one ever tells you how scary and fragile this parenting thing can be, so it was good to find out we’re doing everything right…so far. And, even if we do everything right, there’s still a chance things can go wrong…

In the end, I think what’s most important is being present for your kids. Physically and mentally present. I think I’ll go hug mine now.

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When you feed your kids Beef-a-Roni and buttered hot dog buns for dinner.

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One of the hardest parts of being a parent, for me anyway, has been to learn to let things go. I have a small case of self-diagnosed OCD, or as I once read somewhere, CDO…in alphabetical order the way it should be (credit to the author, whoever you are). It probably came from my Mother, who used to have me iron our napkins for dinner and have the house vacuumed so that you could see the lines in the carpet. She’s the most neat and organized person I know, so I blame her for my obsessive need to have lists for EVERYTHING. I have so many lists, that I have lists for lists. But, having kids has made it a lot tougher to check things off them.

I used to do laundry when there was enough clothes for one load, now I am cued to start the washer when the laundry chute gets backed up to the second floor, or when my husband tells me he’s out of underwear, whichever comes first. I used to vacuum every day, but now I wait until my son’s shirt is indistinguishable from the dog’s fur coat, and it is not unusual for the breakfast dishes to sit in the sink until dinner. Or, for there to be so many toys scattered about that it appears a tornado came right through the middle of the house and hit the kids’ toy box, but left the roof. This is not to say I’m a slob. On the contrary. These are the things that drive me crazy on a daily basis. But, to fret over them only puts me one step closer to certifiable insanity. A while ago, my husband told me that it shouldn’t matter what the house looks like, but did I read to our son today? Did I play with the kids? Did I make them healthy food to eat? Did I keep them safe? Since then, I have tried to redefine my standards and am doing my best not to wish things were perfect. Because, if things were perfect, nothing could be better. And, then what would I put on my lists?

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