What I Loved About My Kids on Jan. 2

Fine. So it's early morning on the 3rd. I made a New Year's resolution, and I'm going to keep to the spirit of it, if not to the precise letter.

What I love about my son today: His spirit in the face of an annoying medical intervention. For the last 6 years, he's been enduring twice-monthly desensitization shots to treat his numerous environmental allergies. Say what you will about medical measures, but since he began treatments, the endless coughing spells he used to suffer from October through June have stopped. Heck, he barely even gets colds anymore.

He hates getting the shots - what kid wouldn't? - but he goes to his appointments with only a minimum of fuss, and amuses his doctor with his monologues about LEGOs and Star Wars. Today, we got the good news that he's not reacting to pollen as much as he once did, which means we can start weaning him off that component of the shots after this spring. His grin was even bigger than mine.

What I love about my daughter today: Her thoughtfulness. When I mentioned hating cold weather and being glad to come into a warm house, she ran into her room, got her fluffiest throw and put it over me. So typical of her. She's the first with a hug, a sticker, a picture or a cup of water when she sees someone she loves in need. May she never lose that compassion.

Nice going, kids. Can't wait to see what I'll love about you today!

So This Is New Year's...

...and so it's time for new beginnings, expressions of gratitude and good intentions.

We spent a happy end to '11 visiting the Bronx Zoo, followed by a pilgrimage to the annual party of good friends. The kids have been attending since they were barely old enough to toddle, and they're happy to stay up past bedtime as long as there's a TV on, M&Ms in the dining room and noisemakers at midnight.

I asked them if they had any resolutions for 2012, and the answer was a resounding "Nope." They like themselves just the way they are, thanks. And maybe I can learn a lesson from them. If they're comfortable in their own skins, and are good, decent people at heart, why should they worry about setting goals for themselves that matter mostly to parents? I might prefer that they keep their rooms neater or deal with their anger in ways other than name-calling, but those things don't really weigh heavily on the minds of elementary-school children.

But I'm a flawed adult and more concerned with such trivial matters as self-improvement and goal-setting, so I'll put out some well-meaning vows on this, the first day of '12.

This year, I'll try to live more fully in the present. I was lucky enough to get some new clients for my freelance writing this year, which has made for more work - and potentially more visibility - but it also has the potential to keep me mired in the world of deadlines and superficial pursuits. I promise to look up from the computer every so often and put my attention to a spring breeze, a meal cooked with love, a child's question.

I'll lengthen my fuse. I tend to let the little things get under my skin, and I become snappish more often than I'd like to be. I won't stand for disrespect, but I'll acknowledge that my kids are still kids, and they're sensitive to the feelings of the adults around them. I want to finish my day with memories of love and laughs, not nagging and scolding.

I'll be a better blogger. It's a blast writing for a major website, but you readers might like to see more about this mom when she's not following celebrity baby bumps. I also have some ideas for actual Momsperiments that I'm eager to test out.

I'll post daily this year about the things I love about my children. Uplifting for you, meaningful for me, perhaps helpful for them in some way. So here goes:

January 1, 2012:
What I love about my daughter today: The way she hugs and holds on to me at night, her love so open, her need for loving contact so vital to her very being.

What I love about my son today: His thirst to learn everything he can about the things that fascinate him - from trivia about the Presidents to the facts about every single Star Wars character in all six movies and the Clone Wars series.

How about you? How did you spend your New Year's? And are you making resolutions, or do you take my kids' view that it's enough just to be who you are?

Monday Update: Just in Case You Were Wondering...

For anyone who remembers my previous posts and was under the impression that my household has since metamorphosed into a Utopia of order, cleanliness, promptness and strong work ethics, let me enlighten you.

- We still have trouble leaving the house less than 5 minutes before school starts. Sometimes it's a matter of staying in bed too long; sometimes it's an argument over the necessity of brushing teeth or hair; other times it's a blissful ignorance about time, despite reminders ("It's 8:15...it's 8:20...it's EIGHT-FREAKIN'-THIRTY-NINE"). And then there are the days when they simply don't see why they should interrupt their reading/LEGO-building/sibling-chasing/coloring just to spend 6 hours in an institution of learning.

- The Set-Your-Own-Homework-Schedule Momsperiment has had its ups and downs. Sometimes the kids will get down to business on their own and at a reasonable hour; other times the work is put off for more interesting pursuits - like playing with the neighbors - and finally done a little too close to bedtime for comfort. I admit I may be contributing to the problem by letting them play in the park after school (on a sunny 65-degree day, how could I deny them a little dose of exercise and vitamin D?); once the deep freeze of winter hits, it may be easier to get work done earlier if we go directly home.

- The forgetfulness issue?  I just flushed a toiletful of waste that's been marinating nicely for at least six hours. Homework sheets and school memos are often stuffed in my son's backpack, while the folder designated for those papers lies idly in his classroom desk. Books, pencils, crayons and little rubber toys get abandoned on floors, tables, chairs and sinks, picked up only after repeated requests (or until I get tired enough to pick them up myself).

- Nagging? Still do it, even though I hate it as much as the kids do, and it doesn't accomplish much other than resentment and halfhearted efforts. I want to stop it even as the words come out, but it's like a default setting that switches on when requests and reminders are ignored or blown off. What was that about insanity being defined as doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results each time?

So rest easy. The Perfect Mom Award is still up for grabs, and I'm not getting anywhere near the finalist list yet.

Oh, yes. We're still waiting for that Hogwarts LEGO set to materialize. Even Linus gave up on waiting for the Great Pumpkin after 24 hours.

Halloween Party Tips from One Who's Been There

So it's not enough for you to plop a Stop & Shop gourd onto your porch and slap a couple of ghost and bat clings on your picture window? You want to go the full Great Pumpkin and throw a party for the little ghouls (drat, why isn't there a perfect Halloween pun for "boys," too?) in your life?

Good for you! Go for it! But if you're not yet wise in the ways of the Kid Halloween Party, let a hardened veteran offer a few words of advice:

Consider dates other than The Big Day. Is it the costumes? The candy? The thrill of being safely scared out of our wits? A yearning to relive those innocent days of homemade hobo costumes and pillowcase candy bags? Whatever the reason, Halloween is more popular than ever. And I'm talking popular. The National Retail Federation expects us to shell out some $6.9 BILLION on holiday gear and eats this year - including (yikes!) $310 million on pet costumes.

All this means that unless you get your invites out sometime around July 4, you're going to have a lot of competition if you schedule your party for the 31st...or the 30th...or any of the weekend days that immediately precede them. The parents on your list are already going batty (NOTE: Apologies. This will be the final bad holiday pun in this post.) trying to figure out how to coordinate all the Halloween events at school, church, Scouts, dance class, soccer teams and other social groupings. So do yourself a favor and hold your party a week or two earlier. People will still be in the Halloween spirit - heck, they've already had their orange lights hung since September, right? - and you won't spend sleepless nights wondering why you got all the "regrets" RSVPs while a rival mom has half the school at her place bobbing for apples.

Expect guests to show up in street clothes. Some kids are Halloween purists. If it's not All Hallows' Eve on the dot, they won't so much as slip on a glove of their Captain America suit. Other parents, knowing the havoc parties can wreak on clothing, prefer to keep their kids' princess gowns and Star Wars uniforms intact until they've had their portraits done and trick-or-treat bags in hand. So despite the "Costume Party" note on your invitation, don't be surprised to see several holdouts. And even children who come in garb may ditch their masks or capes before long. If you want pictures of the happy crew, take them right when the party starts.

Don't stress over planning oodles of activities. Your guests may be less interested in playing Pin the Parts on the Skeleton, passing the Hot Potato Pumpkin and creating decorated photo frames and masks than they are in trashing your kid's bedroom or running outside in their costumes to see what the neighbors are up to. If all else fails, blast "Monster Mash" and let the young partygoers dance their feet off.


Remember that the classics still rule. Of COURSE you want to do the right thing by your young guests. And of COURSE it's nice to provide some alternatives to candy corn and caramel apples at this prime sugar-overload time. By all means, serve some treats that would pass muster with any pediatrician. Try these healthy snacks, courtesy of Life & Beauty Weekly. But we all know that the veggies and hummus will quickly be abandoned the minute the desserts hit the table.

Especially if they look like this:

And this one was created just for me:

Zombie Sock Monkey. Perfection.

Which leads me to my next tip: Don't be shy about getting help. If there's just not enough time or energy to do all the party prep by yourself, have a friend volunteer. Or, if you don't have the skills to make a zombie sock monkey cupcake, find someone you trust (like Cakes by Lee) to take the job off your hands.

But don't get too fancy. If you recall, pumpkin chocolate-chip cakes - even baked into darling pumpkin shapes - may sound good in theory, but the taste may be too exotic for the preschool set. Familiar snacks in holiday-appropriate forms are a better bet; I've had tremendous luck with Oreos and rod pretzels dipped in chocolate spiderweb and "witch finger" molds. "Push-up" cake treats like these are apparently soaring in popularity, so consider trying your hand at these rather than attempting to do something clever with whole-wheat red velvet cake and amaretto cream-cheese icing.

Don't double-dip birthdays and holidays. Maybe you're lucky enough to have a child born on or close to Halloween. This is a totally cool thing, and it makes for a good excuse for a theme party. However, it does not excuse you from your parental mandate to provide presents and cake on the actual birthday. (This also applies to children born on or near Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Memorial Day, July 4 or Talk Like a Pirate Day.)

Hope this advice helps make your Halloween party a thriller! (Hey! You said there wouldn't be any more puns! That's it. We're getting the toilet paper and shaving cream.)

Update: Homework...Needs Work

We're just a few days into our Set Your Own Homework Routine Momsperiment. Here's how yesterday unfolded:

Let kids play in the park for 45 minutes after school. Checked Son's backpack. No weekly homework sheet, no homework folder and no math book. Copied the assignments from another child's schedule. before taking them home and giving them a snack. Tried to start Daughter on homework; Son tried to enlist her in a chase around the apartment. I broke up the game and told Son to stay in his room if he wasn't going to start his work yet. Got most of her work done before a late-afternoon doctor's appointment.

Home for dinner. After dinner, Son finally did as much homework as he could. Insisted that teacher hadn't given out the homework schedule to his class and that he was pretty sure she hadn't given a math assignment.

This morning, just before going through the schoolyard gates, he hugged me and said, "You might be getting a note home from the teacher if I'm on the homework list."

Clearly, adjustments need to be made to our plan.

You Deserve a Sanitized Play Space Today?

And you were worried that today was going to go by without a new addition to the ever-growing list of Stuff to Get Moms Paranoid About. On today's Early Show, psychologist Erin Carr-Jordan announced that her investigation of fast food play spaces in 11 states revealed everything from dirt and rotting food to a host of germs that could potentially make young visitors sick.

So parents, don't let your kids anywhere near those slides and crawl-through tubes at the mall or burger joint. Just say no to playdates and birthday parties involving indoor play spaces or giant animatronic mice serving pizza.  It's not worth the risk.

If they want to burn off some energy, take them to your local park playground instead for some good clean fun. Oh, wait. Guess we forgot about this morning-news report a few years ago where swings, slides and climbing walls across the country were tested and found to have salmonella, shigella, hepatitis and other bacteria, not to mention fecal flora - fecal as in poop.

On second thought, better keep your family safe at home. Just make sure you don't prepare their meals in the kitchen or serve it on plates you washed in the sink with a sponge. According to the public health organization NSF, 32 percent of household countertops, 45 percent of sinks and 77 percent of sponges are crawling with coliform bacteria, which can cause food poisoning. Sponges and fridge door handles are also breeding grounds for the superbug MRSA.

Instead of getting some exercise in a filthy play area, let your little ones play a game on your cell phone or iPad. Oh, wait. Turns out phones have more germs than the average toilet handle. But of course your kids never touch a dirty surface and then rub their eyes or reach for a snack, right? Same goes for computers, remote controls, doorknobs and pretty much everything touchable.

And once you've handcuffed the little ones to make sure they don't come in contact with anything in your petri dish of a home, you'll want to keep them away from school, too. Why bother having them protected at home if they're going to spend 35 hours a week sitting next to snotty-nosed classmates and doing their multiplication problems on bacteria-laden desks?

Okay, you get the idea. The point is that dirt and germs are everywhere, and touching an icky surface doesn't necessarily guarantee a trip to the hospital. In fact, our immune systems benefit from having something to fight off; children who catch lots of colds in daycare tend to get sick less often once they reach elementary school. Going all clean-freak isn't the answer, either; epidemiologists warn that overuse of antibacterial soaps and cleansers is killing off the less harmful bacteria in our environment and leaving behind the more dangerous antibiotic-resistant bugs.

My kids have been going to indoor and outdoor playgrounds since they were big enough to stagger up the stairs. I wouldn't want them climbing on an apparatus that was obviously broken, filthy, food-strewn or had, um, evidence of fecal flora. But if the equipment doesn't look any dirtier than their bedroom floor, I let them go to it - and make sure they wash their hands with good old soap and water afterward.

By all means, follow your own instincts and avoid those play areas if reports like these make you skeeved. Me, I'm more concerned about what these restaurants put into our children's tummies than the germs they might put on their hands.

Spiders, Crocodiles and 9/11

"Moooommm?" It's five minutes past bedtime. Stories have been read, water fetched, lights turned out, soothing classical music is playing. But all is not well in my son's world: "I hear a tapping noise, and I think it's coming from the CD player. Could you turn on the light and see if there's a spider there?"

There's no point in citing the infinitesimal odds that there actually is an eight-legger in wooden clogs doing the cha-cha in his room. At eight and a half, he's going through an arachnophobic stage  - "the more I know about spiders, the more I'm afraid of them," he says. I know it's best to respect his young fears, keep the ceiling corners clear of cobwebs and conduct the occasional CD-player spider check.

Later that night, my daughter wanders into our bedroom. "I had a bad dream," she confides. "There was a crocodile, and I fell into the water, and it was going to eat me, but then it ate you...can you come sit with me?"

Crocodiles show up in her nightmares often; she grabs my hand while walking through the zoo and aquarium just in case we happen to pass a croc tank. Sometimes it's ghosts, but the toothy reptile is tops on her terror list.

Soothing these nightly terrors is costing me a bit of sleep these days. But I just gulp an extra coffee (or two) and say a prayer of thanks that the only bad dreams they have are normal childhood fears of scary animals, which will go away in time. I'm grateful they don't have to live with the memory of the day far more evil monsters attacked their city and took away a nation's sense of security forever.

Born a few years after the attacks, my children are only just starting to learn what happened on that clear-blue September day. We use simple language, taking care not to overwhelm them with grim details, and offer reassurances that Mom and Dad will always do their best to protect them. For now, it is enough.

In years to come, they'll hear and understand more from the family members who actually lived through the horror. They'll learn how their father saw the towers collapsing from his office window and how he later saw coverage of  7 WTC - where he'd worked just a couple of years earlier - turning to rubble. They'll hear how their mother saw the buildings burning on her commute to midtown, spent a morning trying to get through to family on lines that went dead, then later joined the hundreds of panicked, tearful and stunned people walking across the 59th Street Bridge, hoping to get to a safety that no longer existed. They'll hear even more sobering memories from their paramedic aunt and Marine reservist uncle, whose son is named for a firefighter and former Marine lost in the attacks.

But my children have the blessing of distance. They and their peers will be shocked and saddened by what they learn, but it will never have a visceral impact on them, just as my generation can't fully comprehend the enormity of Pearl Harbor, Vietnam or the Kennedy assassination. (I'm told that after RFK was shot, I tried to comfort a sobbing aunt by saying, "Don't worry...there'll be another Kennedy.") Only a special subset of under-10 children will feel a true personal connection to relatives lost before they were born. For the rest of these 21st-century babies, September 11 will be a history lesson, not a part of their life story.

We parents, along with all who can and do remember, have an obligation to share the story and lessons of 9/11 to this new generation and the children who will come after them. We can't force them to mourn losses they don't truly feel - nor should we. But through our words, and more importantly, through our own actions, we can instill in them a pride in their country, a respect for those who serve it, a deep love and respect for all their fellow human beings and a passion for peace.

If we tirelessly make this our mission, then perhaps future generations of children will have nothing to fear but an imaginary spider in their bedrooms.

Stuff I Never Thought I'd Be Doing Today

-Attending a slightly belated birthday party thrown in my honor by an assortment of LEGO Star Wars figures and my old Dawn dolls.

- Watching said toys boogie to the "Episode II" soundtrack. (Orange fringed minidresses go surprisingly well with John Williams.)

- Reading the dress-code demands made of the guests at the Kardashian wedding.

- Wondering if any of the invitees will have the courage and self-respect to say, "I can't wear any color but black or white? Screw it - I'm showing up in hot pink and having a cameraman ready to videotape me getting booted out."

- Seeing my byline twice in a health newsletter.

- Getting a cryptic reply email and wondering if it's actually a nicely-dressed rejection.

- Engaging in an hour-long lightsaber duel against the resident Jedi Master.

- Being informed that I possess mad lightsaber skills.

- Asking my children to clean their rooms and hearing nothing but "Not now" - then witnessing their 180 when offered the chance to play with the neighborhood kids.

- Giving the Starving Ethiopian Children speech in response to various complaints that dinner contained such horrible ingredients as rice and peas. I have officially become THAT Mother. Heaven help us.

- Hearing my son say, "I have a bad feeling that my life is going to explode" and wondering when he suddenly turned 50.

- Spending all day with my kids, then oddly missing them during the brief time I was away from them tonight._

Camp WannaBeaBadMom

If you've been worrying about how you rate as a mother, I have good news for you. You are not the Worst Mom Ever. That honor goes to me.

What, you may ask, did I do to earn this dubious distinction? Did I serve my children my patented Cream of Brussels Sprout Surprise? Make them study their times tables or write a report on War and Peace? Shut them in their rooms with a command them to clean until they passed the white-glove test? Please. That's amateur stuff.

No, what I did was far worse. I sent them to summer camp today. My daughter was excited; now out of kindergarten, she'd be joining the "junior" group for the first time. my son, however, has been bestowing the worst-mom label on me ever since he found out - last winter, mind you - that this would be part of his vacation schedule.

Now, before you judge me too harshly, they've been going to this place for the last couple of years and had a fine time every time. It's a day camp just blocks from home - no fears of sleeping away or being in the woods - with activities and field trips galore. But Son was adamant that this was not how he wanted to spend five weeks of his precious vacation. For weeks, every time I brought up the subject, it was, "I'm not going. I don't care what you say."

I thought perhaps time would soften his view, but it only made it harder. This morning, when he was still in bed at 8:00, I knew we were in for a fight.

"I'm not going," he announced again, glaring at me from his pillow. "I don't care what you say."

I could have given a command or dragged him out of bed by the ankles, but I suspected that would do more harm than good. "Is there something you don't like about camp? Something you're worried about?"

"No, there's nothing."

"Then why don't you want to go? Your sister is all dressed, and she's had her duffle bag on her back for the last half hour."

"It's so boring! It's the same thing over and over again!"

"Boring? Trips to the pool and indoor playgrounds? Running through the sprinkler? Making crafts?"

"I just don't want to go! I want to do my own thing."

"Well, why don't we talk to the counselors about that and see what they have to say? You have to come with me to drop off your sister anyway."

He exploded. "I'm still not doing it! Don't I get a say in this? You never ask my opinion! You never asked me if I wanted to go!"

Now it was clear. This wasn't about arts and crafts or boredom; it was about respect and autonomy. At eight, he knows his mind pretty well, and it frustrates him that not only does life not always conform to his expectations, but that he doesn't have as much say over his plans as he'd like.

I sat him down. "I understand. You feel like you're being railroaded into going to camp, that we didn't ask if it was okay before we signed you up. Maybe we could have done a better job of talking it over with you beforehand."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"But there's something you need to understand, too," I went on. "Much as I love being with you and doing things with you, I also have to work for a living, to earn money to pay our bills and to treat you to things like books and toys and amusement parks. And my work happens to involve writing on the computer at home, which takes time and concentration. You may be on vacation, but I'm not. I need time during the day to get my work done, not to mention running errands and cleaning and cooking - and that's hard to do if I'm also busy watching and entertaining the two of you."

Wham! New justification for that Worst Mom Award. I just said the thing no mom likes to admit out loud: There are times I don't want to be with my children. What message was he hearing? Would he now think of himself as an inconvenience, secondary to work and clean bathrooms? Was I being unreasonable in asking him to go along with plans he had no part in making?

"I can entertain himself," he offered.

"I know that you'd try. But I'd hate to think of you staying in your room on nice summer days like today. I wouldn't be able to take you to the park or the beach as often as I'd like. And -" I paused before the final blow - "when I'm working, I can't concentrate with the TV or xBox on, so you wouldn't be watching shows or playing games."

He considered that for a moment.

"Wait...they show movies at camp, don't they?"

"I think they do, later in the day when the campers are waiting for pickup."

"Okay, I'm going."

And that was the end of it. He was dressed and ready to go in no time. He even put aside his big-brother grudges to stay with his sister while they waited for their group assignments in the junior division, saying, "Don't worry, Sis. I'll show you the ropes."

I can't say I'm thrilled that the deciding factor was the promise of TV time every day, but at least the war seems to be over for now. There'll be time later for discussions of future summer plans. And maybe a little part of him was gratified that Mom took the time to hear him out.

I won't surrender the Worst Mom title just yet, though. They still have to clean their rooms.

Botoxing Your Child: A Misguided Momsperiment?

You've probably sneaked a guilty peek at "Toddlers and Tiaras" or one of the other popular reality shows showing the inner workings of child beauty pageants. So you know that these moms do whatever they can to give their daughters an edge when they twirl before the judges: buying thousand-dollar dresses, hiring professional coaches, taking the girls for spray tans and manicures, ordering kiddie dentures to cover up gaps from lost baby teeth.

But it seems that's not quite enough anymore. The newest trend in the pageant circuit is Botox injections - to mask any hint of a burgeoning wrinkle that might cost a girl valuable points toward a Grand Supreme crown. "It's pretty much, like, the thing. I'm not the only one that does it," this mom explains. A part-time esthetician, she gets her doses from "a trusted source" and administers the shots to her 8-year-old daughter at home. Her rationale: It's "safe," makes young Britney feel more confident about her looks and keeps her in the running in the highly competitive kid-beauty world.

Granted, moms experiment with their children's appearance all the time, from simple choices like clothing and hairstyles to more permanent options like piercing their newborns' ears. If a look doesn't suit their tastes - or if the child has other preferences (trust me when I say I'll never have my son's hair buzz-cut again) - it's easy enough to change, with no harm done. But intentionally putting a muscle relaxant in a second-grader's face? Without a doctor's supervision? A "safe" chemical with potential side effects like rash, chest pain, flu-like symptoms, seizures and breathing difficulties? At the very least, it's hardly in the same discomfort category as an ear piercing; the pictures of Britney holding an ice pack to her swollen face say it all.

I won't even get into the whole issue of the pageants themselves; that's a Momsperiment for another day. But if a child can't become a beauty queen without having her natural features and smile paralyzed in a most unnatural way, maybe it's time for the governing organizations to step in and draw the line. Otherwise, it may not be long before pageant moms start taking their kindergartners for nose jobs and brow lifts.

Operation: Out the Door!

With apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer:
Oh, somewhere in this favored land, the sun is shining bright;
Children clean and nicely dressed, and breakfasted every bite;
And at the school door stand, eager for the day ahead;
But there is no joy in my house - the kids are still in bed.

Yes, ours is one of those households that can't seem to get its act together on school days. We have plenty of prep time, but most of it is spent doing everything but prepping. If dawdling is an art, my two are practically Michelangelos. They lie in bed, play with toys, argue with each other - or me. One picks at her breakfast; the other buries his nose in the Wimpy Kid books. Today, I came out of the bedroom to find them hitting each other with balloons. Tooth- and hair-brushing is a hit-or-miss effort at best. We end up dashing to the car in a stressed-out flurry, arriving at school with minutes to spare - hardly the most conducive atmosphere for family harmony, much less good student performance.

I confess that I'm not the best time manager, either. I'm sure the kids are affected by genetics and/or observed bad habits, but that doesn't mean they need to use that as an excuse for the rest of their lives. There's always room for improvement - for all of us. (In my defense, I'm not the one still in Disney jammies 20 minutes before the first bell.)

So for the first Momsperiment of this blog, I'll be trying new strategies for our morning routine in hopes of making it both more streamlined and more pleasant.

Here's what I've tried thus far:

Nagging. The tried-and-true Mom Standby. Gets the job done eventually, but not in a timely fashion, and not without souring the mood of kids and parent alike.

Time reminders ("It's 7:45...it's after 8...we have to be out the door in 15 minutes..."). Doesn't always produce the desired sense of urgency. Both children still learning time concepts. Note to self: Perhaps time how long it takes to accomplish tasks?

Helping things along. As in: dressing them, brushing their teeth, feeding spoonfuls of cereal to the slow eater. Cuts a few minutes off the schedule, but relieves the kids of any sense of independence and responsibility.

Setting an earlier bedtime. Lack of sleep is linked to behavior problems and poor school performance. But in my kids' case, getting more than their usual 10 hours of z-time doesn't appear to be linked to greater morning efficiency.

Letting the children set the pace. A couple of times, I've chosen to sit back and let the dawdling proceed without comment or correction. We got out the door even later than usual, arriving just in time for them to join the line for the walk to their homerooms. Not enough of a consequence to get the lesson across. "Well, at least we got here," was my son's comment.

Now, before I launch the trial, I'd like to hear your thoughts. What are school mornings like for you? Are your children the kind who dress and pack for school without prompting, or do you have to drag them out of bed by their big toes? What works for you -  reward charts, timers, let's-see-who-can-get-ready-first races? I'd prefer to err on the side of positive reinforcement than privilege-withholding; what's more effective in your case?  Input from non-moms welcome too - I know you have memories of your own school days!

Let the Morning Momsperiment begin!