I am publishing this with my now grown daughter's permission. I originally wrote this in a private letter to her, but it is worth noting that when we do cool things for our kids, often times it is we who accidentally benefit the most.

The Athletics
 
I liked sports when I was younger.  Not “normal” sports mind you, as I excelled in bowling, and later in ping pong.  As a parent, I was an enthusiastic observer of my children’s sports activities.  Now, so many years later, I am amazed at my involvement as a coach for my kids.  I never aspired to coach, but the position presented itself due, in part, to the occasional incompetence and unenthusiastic work of some (not all, of course) of the coaches.  Having three children, and being a believer of equality in giving time to my children, I concluded my “career” by coaching each of my three kids twice.  Basketball, soccer, and softball coaching was my mediocre legacy.  I was never good enough to make a “winning machine” team, but I was a fun, enthusiastic coach.  I coached my son twice in basketball; my middle daughter once in basketball, and once in soccer (where I learned the wisdom of the advice:  “never coach a sport you don’t know the rules to”); and, my youngest daughter twice in softball.  As she entered the eighth grade, Adele informed me she was going to quit softball.  She cited her reasoning:  the coaches don’t show up for practice; when they do, they always wanted her to pitch, and “I haven’t hit the ball out of the infield all of last year”.  So, contrary to my intentions, I made her a deal, “If I come out of ‘retirement’ to coach one extra time, would you play?”  She countered, “If you promise to never to put on the mound.”  I agreed and we began the most memorable sports experience of my life.
            We needed a pitcher, and there were two great ones:  Stacy and Destiny.  I was fortunate to get Stacy.  I know the sport of softball, but I do not know how to teach kids how to hit.  However, our local psychiatrist had the reputation of being a batting guru.  And, his daughter Jessica was a great ball player.  He was happy to be my assistant coach.  Early on, little Jessica confided in me, “My Dad really likes coaching batting!  He has a thousand dollars of videos on batting!  My Mom says if he buys another video, she’s going to divorce him!!”  Obviously, I chose wisely. 
            My counseling business was really hopping.  Scheduling practices was going to hurt.  I solved the dilemma surprisingly easily by declaring: oh well.  I noted to my dismay and disgust that the boys’ baseball practice fields were the good ones.  The girls got the lousy fields.  A good hit to left field meant we spent five minutes looking for the ball in the high grass.  So we invented “steal a field”.  We started our practices a little earlier, and played wherever we wanted to.  This occasionally resulted in a little friction with other coaches.  Once, when the coach of the Reds (boys Little League) wanted to fight because he had to wait fifteen minutes for us to finish, my little 8th grade girls rallied behind me and prevented the squab.  I also assigned music detail to the girls.  Each practice a girl would bring a CD for us to jam to as we practiced.  We also scrimmaged a mini game at the end of each practice to make it more fun (for me as well, as I got to play).  Once we had a Saturday morning practice and it started to lightly snow.  Man it was cold!  I decided to call off practice.  The team protested and insisted we continue.  The compliment was not lost on me. 
            As we began the regular season I told the girls, “I have only two wishes for this season.  One, I want this season to be the most fun y’all have ever had in any of your sports experiences.  Second, I would love just one double play.  Just one. Now it’s not likely, and it’s ok, but if we can, a double play would really be cool.  Regardless, let’s have great fun.”  And we did.
            With Super Stacy as our pitcher, most of the other teams struggled to hit the ball well.  With Dr. Scott as our batting coach, everyone on our team was hitting well.  My daughter, who rightfully complained about her poor batting turned into a slugging machine.  She begged me not to put her in the batting lineup as clean-up batter (4th).  Fortunately, Dr. Scott’s daughter Jessica, also the only switch hitter in the league, transformed into a slugging monster.  She was our clean-up batter.  Although our catcher was cursed with a poor throwing arm, her glove was practically magnetic.  I don’t remember a dropped pitch the entire season.
            In preparation for the “big game” with Ben Shackelford’s team, we asked Stacy’s Dad, also the high school girls’ softball coach, if we could use the batting cage.  He was kind enough to oblige.  As a result, when my girls faced Destiny, the other great pitcher, they could hit a mighty fast pitch.  We won the big game.  However, the season was not yet over.
            As the season was drawing to a close, we were in first place by one game.  The final game was against Shackelford’s team.  My sister and husband were down visiting from the cool weather San Francisco Bay area.   Although the grand finale temperature was 107 degrees, my sister joyfully joined the large crowd for “the game of the season”.  Man, it was hot.  All we needed was the final win, but we lost.  Now we had a tie for first place, and an unscheduled 107 degree double header.  None of the parents or families left, but the girls were tired.  Then Stacy came over to me and broke the news.  “Coach, my shoulder is hurting.  I don’t think I can pitch anymore.”  Doomsday.  We had no back up pitcher.  I promised Adele I would not put her on the mound, and I couldn’t do it now.  Then I remembered—I had a tube of a topical anesthetic (Myoflex®) in my bag.  As I got it out, Stacy rolled up her athletics shirt and jabbed her shoulder at me, “Rub it on coach!”  So I petitioned Adele to apply the ointment, and she was cured!  Just before we began Stacy again came over to me and advised me “Coach, it’s the final game of the season and we need to sing the Star Spangled Banner”.  You gotta be kidding me.  Plus, I don’t know if I remembered all the lyrics.  So I told her, “Stacy, if you want to sing it, you do it”.  So she stood in front of the bleachers in a scorching 107° day and began.  “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh say can you seeeeeeeeeeee....… byyyyyyyy the dawwwwwwwn’s earlyyyyyy liiiiiiiiiiiiiiight………. Two minutes later, as she began the second verse, the ump, insane with rage, frustration, and heat exhaustion stomped up to me and threatened, “Start the game or you’re going to forfeit!”  I told him if he wanted to stop a little girl from singing the National Anthem in front of all these parents, he should tell her to stop.  He stomped back to home plate and, like all of us, anxiously awaited the distant conclusion.  After what seemed like the longest minutes of our lives, the game began.
            The game promised to be the best game of the season, and all of these girls did not disappoint.  Although they were ready to drop, both teams duked it out.  We inched our way on top, and by the bottom of the final inning, we were ahead 9 to 4.  Then it was 9 to 5, 6, and then 9 to 7.  With runners on first and second, Stacy walked the next batter to load the bases, with only one out.  With Shenekia, their cleanup batter coming to the plate, we were poised to lose the season.  Shenekia, one of the strongest batters in the league smashed the first pitch towards left field.  My third baseman, Sarah, a little tall for her age, stabbed her glove up and miraculously snagged the fly.  Adele, the shortstop, yelled, “Touch third Sarah!  Touch third!”  Boom.  Double play.  Game over. 
            After the girls joyously dumped the cooler of the coldest ice water I have ever seen all over me, and I was getting my heart rate down, we had our final team meeting.  All of us knew that we had just finished the best sports experience ever, and were all overjoyed and a tiny bit sad at its conclusion. 
            So many years later I am still a little amazed that the purpose of my final coaching stint was to give my daughter one last good sports memory, but even today, it ended up being me who benefited the most.  

Part One
Let me tell you right up front I kinda lied. The distressed mother was calling to see if I was a suitable to counselor to work with her 14 year old daughter. She asked me, “do you work with pansexual teenage girls?” Well, as I work with all teens, my answer was “yes”. Fortunately, she did not quiz me, “do you know what pansexual is?” Right after I got done talking with her, I jumped online to see what in the hell she was talking about. So here I am, a few years later, still trying to digest the 64 different sexual classifications.
If this seems like an irrelevant subject, it’s could be because you don’t have much contact with 5th to 9th grade kids, particularly girls. However, as a counselor, I do. The prevalence of gender confusion is rather shocking. We can debate the cause of this strange phenomena, but it’s important enough that we should skip directly into what to do about it. So there are a number of ways to approach this topic. I am picking two: as a normal person living in this strange world of ours and as a therapist (and father).
As we probably know, most kids are not sexually developed in 5th grade. Some weren’t too developed in 7th grade either (see: John’s First Jr. High School Trauma). So to declare, and typically with some degree of pride, that you are pansexual, nonbinary, cis, or many other new labels is, at the very least, not accurate. Or absurd, depending on the environment. This is a relatively new phenomenon, and potentially troubling. As kids, particularly young girls, are sensitive to their place in the world, they are inadvertently labeling themselves in a manner that will affect their social existence. Add to that a new layer of family dysfunction and discord, and the troubles are mounting. All of this to just “make a statement”. In 6th grade, boys are still generally idiots in front of girls. Girls are usually better company for girls. The lack of interest in boys is now being misinterpreted as being non-heterosexual. THEN, as if it couldn’t get any weirder, schools are adding to the mix by being scared of being labeled prejudiced, so they may allow kids to change their name to a made up, “non-gender” name. “West, Roux, Painter, Robot” are a few snappy examples. Some colleges are perhaps leading the way by allowing kids to demand they be addressed by a pronoun. “They, them, their” are a few. Add the newly made up ones such as “xe, ze, sie, co, and ey” and we have a new language of silliness.  With the support of the gay community (hereby referred to as the G+ community, as it’s too difficult to find each letter on the keyboard), and now lack of support really gets labeled as prejudiced.  *sigh*.
Is it a temporary trend? Does it foretell a grim future for the normalcy of the U.S.?  Who knows? The real question is, what can we do to help our children in these challenging times? Now we switch from a somewhat disgusted parent to a therapist.
Continue with Part Two.
  
Part Two
It is our duty (and privilege) to raise our children to be remarkable human beings. Through joyous times and trying times, we should attempt to be what our child needs. So, in addressing this one issue, I try to be empathic, understanding, but not cowardly. In situations such as these, our kids need to not create such a hostile environment that we lose our focus on being credible to them. Keep in mind what you should already know by now: Telling our kids that they are flat out wrong does not convince them to change their minds. So then, how do we help to guide them? 
As much as it seems to be a waste of time, letting them talk is immensely helpful. When what is rattling around in our head is put into words, we often will get another way of looking at things. When a kid is feeling listened to (which is not often), their defenses are softened. At the same time, mentally clarifying our position to ourselves (which also is not often) helps in giving our child something to consider rather than to merely argue about. For example, is our point, “YOU ARE NOT POLLYWANNACRACKER SEXUAL!!” or is it, “when we are in 7th grade, it is premature to declare what our sexual preference is. How would we know so early in life?” They don’t have to agree, but know that you have just planted an important thought in their soft little head. Or, “why loudly proclaim what you feel your sexuality is? If some 8th grade boy went around school proclaiming, ‘I’m not a gay guy, I only like women!’ would you consider him a loud mouth? Our perceived sexuality is a private affair, not something to be advertised.” In this manner, the kids have much more time to figure out their place in the world.
Considering that our child may be different than us increases the likelihood that they won’t make a decision based on merely an angry attitude. Where it is possible our child may truly be gay (or G+), as it is estimated that 2% of the population may be, we must guard against contributing to a hateful home environment that may increase the odds that our child is making decisions based on angry emotions rather than on mature decision making. With control, love and dedication, we can firmly but respectfully disagree with our child without pushing them away into a dark and lonely corner.
These are certainly strange days, and it’s important that we pass the test of not pushing our child away when they need our guidance and direction. They might be making us crazy, but we need to be their rock.
  
John S. Sommer
Licensed Clinical Social Worker  
12/21

​ I suppose I could think of it as “people who’ve inspired me” but sometimes it’s more than that. I like to think I can extract a few molecules of greatness from them and inject them into myself. Take Gene for instance.
 
I was working at the local mental health clinic when one strange looking character walked by my door. An old guy, maybe early to mid-seventies, long silver hair, a black cowboy shirt, black pants, black boots and a little bolo tie. I figured it was my next new strange client.  He came back down the hall, walked into my little office, stuck out his hand and said,” Hello. You must be John Sommer, I’m doctor Eugene Tipps, your new psychiatrist for the Center.” He retired from his practice in Houston, traveled, and joined the rent-a-shrink program. We would have him for six months. We became fast friends. After, retirement, he went to Australia with $50.00 bucks and no credit cards.  He hitchhiked across the country and would cut wood, farm and whatever else he could do to earn his keep at the home of whoever invited him to stay.  I commented, “These folks must have wanted to adopt you!” He laughed and said, “True, most of the time. But I wouldn’t stay more than three days. Then I’d move on.” After six months he had his son wire him money, returned to the states and worked at various mental health clinics throughout the county.
 
I sat in a few of his women’s groups and beheld the master. They were the greatest groups I have ever seen in my life. He was like a great conductor directing his orchestra. He could lovingly shutdown an aggressive overly animated lady, and sweetly coax a shy one into a significant conversation. At 75, he was fascinating, hard working, and full of great abilities.
 
When I “extract some cool DNA” (mentally of course), I rarely want everything about the person.  This particular man was unbelievably hard working. He was Abe Lincoln honest and put a huge priority on loyalty. If you helped him out of a jam he would never forget it. Lucky for me I didn’t have to “steal” his DNA, as it was my Dad. We rarely want to turn out to be exactly like our parents, but we can focus on outstanding traits we would like to copy. There are a couple from Dad I want.
 
Job after job, one terrible supervisor after the next, I finally landed a great one. He was diplomatic, motivational, imaginative and full of knowledge. No angry ego to deal with. I remember being quite aware of his style of supervision and how he helped me to develop into a good counselor. I have tried to emulate it in later years with people I have supervised.
 
A woman came in sharing with me the “hopeless” alcoholic she had been married to for a number of years. I expected her to rant about his drinking problem and then ask me if I could help her to change him. Instead, she was full of compassion and love and instead asked if I could empower her to give her the extra strength she would need so she could continue to love and care for him until the end. When the end came many years later, she was his loving rock. I was taken aback by her loyalty and compassion she had for her tragic husband. I still think of her after all these years, but I’m not giving back the molecules I borrowed from her. I want those loving and dedicated attributes myself.
 
Rather than just getting older and becoming someone rather accidentally, it seems more logical, and certainly more exciting to try to become someone far greater. We can pay attention to co-workers, acquaintances, other parents, even strangers to provide us with ideas and inspirations to make our own lives more meaningful and enjoyable. I suppose the bottom line would be: expect more from our short lives. Keep your peepers open for inspirations.
 
John Sommer
Licensed Clinical Social Worker
7/20/21

This essay was written with marriages in mind. However, upon reflection, it really pertains to all relationships. The proper expression of anger is necessary for: daters, siblings, friends, co-workers; pretty much everyone. Although it seems ridiculous to plan how to get mad correctly, even remarkable people do and say incredibly stupid things when they get thoroughly pissed off. This list is far from complete, thus we should individually review our own code of conduct and add our own “rules” to this list. If you know what you can and cannot do before a time of crisis, it’s much easier to do the right thing even when you may not be thinking clearly.
 
An acquaintance shared a story with me a number of years ago. He felt a sense of family obligation to help out his younger sister who was terrible with her finances. At her stressed out request, he went over to her house after work to talk to her. She had been generously propped up by their parents for years. Free house to live in, free furniture and almost no utilities to pay. However, as the Queen of Entitlement, she felt that because she needed these things, she was entitled to be given them. He told me she began the conversation by cussin’ out her employer, and then it went downhill from there.
“You know the City pays ripoff wages, and I can’t keep my head above water. I have pets to feed, and I have to eat out sometimes. I’m going crazy! All I know is that if our parents don’t give me enough in their will when they die, I’m going to sue the #$*!ing family!!” With that, he disgustedly walked out of her house. The next day she came over to his house and sheepishly said: “Sweetie? I’m soooooo sorry I get so crazy when I’m broke. I really didn’t mean it! I get so stressed out, ya know?” And with that, she departed.
 
He related this story ten years after it has taken place, and he was still disgusted. Nowadays, he’s civil with his sister, but something is permanently gone.
 
What’s the solution to saying mean or just plain stupid things when we’re angry or stressed? Learn that we should always have rules of anger. Parents typically have their own unspoken rules of anger with their children. You’d have to or there would be considerably less children in this world. However, even for men who would never hit a woman, the too common thinking may be: you deserve whatever I’m about to say because you pissed me off. And obviously this work both ways. Some women go verbally thermo-nuclear when they are angry, or sometimes even in a bad mood. And to top it off, with both men and women, they think just because they apologize later, what they had to say is magically erased. We may have been taught forgive and forget, and plenty of folks are gracious enough to forgive, but the forgetting part is not so easy. If you blow your top and call you wife a fat, ugly, poor excuse for a wife, why on earth would anyone think that ashamedly slinking into the house the next day saying: “Sorry honey, I didn’t really mean it” is going to give them amnesia? Maybe you’ll be one of the lucky recipients of the forgiving part, but how about the forgetting part?
 
So let’s be more specific: here are some time tested Rules of Anger:
 
Say what you mean. If Hildegard is sittin’ around watching Oprah reruns, eating bonbons and the house is a wreck, you don’t call her fat, you don’t call her worthless, you stick to the subject. “I work my ass off all day and I come back to a filthy house and no food for us. You are watching endless TV and I am starving. If we can’t figure out a solution, I refuse to live like this forever.”
 
No absurd name calling. Stupid, worthless, piece of sh*t, etc. are just taking out your anger on someone. They don’t address the problem. See the rule above.
 
Try to refrain from using terms like “always or never”. Stay in the present. Husband cusses too much? “You always use vulgar language” is not the immediate point, even if it’s true. “We are in a restaurant and you have dropped the ‘f-bomb’ three times. You can be overheard, and you are embarrassing me” is to the point, direct and a good confrontation.
 
Don’t talk crap about someone’s family, even when it’s true. There is a strange psychological paradox about this event. Even when someone is angry/unhappy about someone they are close to, there is a need to defend them when someone else attacks them, even justifiably. Ask any clinician about working with abused women. The victim can bad-mouth the perpetrator all she wants, but when the counselor says something unkind about them, the victim will say something in their defense. Leave out family and friends in your squab with each other.
 
Although common sense should dictate this rule, keep your anger directed to who you’re mad at. So many people share their feelings on social media, with friends or family, it boggles the mind. In one squab, a husband (for the first and only time) threw a salt shaker against the wall. His wife was both outraged and intimidated by this act. Then she turned to her electronic therapist: Facebook. In a week or so they had some frank and mutually agreed upon rules of proper behavior (along with a sincere apology). However, all of her 952 friends now hate him, including her family. No more family Christmas celebrations with everyone for the foreseeable future. Whoops.
 
Imagine this ridiculous scenario: Gertrude and Archie are getting heated up about an ensuing argument. They take a quick break to go to the medicine cabinet. They locate the “UltraPissedOff” medication. They take the prescribed dose, wait for the effects to kick in, then they resume their fight. Now the fight is really on. From raised voices to screaming, maybe even some spousal abuse, it’s anger magnified by the drug. You think it’s a bad idea? Pay attention: No arguing when you are consuming alcohol. Save the “debate” for the following day. Why would anyone take a drug that is guaranteed to make things way worse? If it’s a real issue that needs to be resolved, you have to keep from totally screwing up the chances of a resolution due to a drug.
 
Our lives together should be full of many things: love, kindness, sacrifice, fun, boredom, neutral forgettable days and weeks: the whole nine yards. We will also have stressful, difficult days. It’s when times get lousy that we need to remember who we are, and how to behave properly. Fine tune our responses when we are in a bad way and we minimize damage and increase our self worth.

Sometimes I take some chances by sharing food for thought with some people I know who are beginning work in a potentially toxic environment. A recent example was an attorney friend who was moving up into an office where only results mattered. Not fairness, or consideration, or even honesty at times. I had high regard for my friend, even though our general philosophies seemed different. I never heard back from my friend, but I hoped he/she was not unduly affected by the new harsh environment. Me? I don't want to turn into no stinkin' absorbing man.....

          Early in my career I was a bartender (arguably my first counseling job) at my family’s bowling alley.  One of the afternoon cocktail waitresses, Cynthia, came  in with an unusually bad attitude.  In between slamming her purse and other articles down, she told me her seventeen year-old son had accidentally shot himself in the leg while in the custody of the State juvenile system.  She was furious that this wilderness program had been so irresponsible in letting kids handle loaded guns.  I was equally amazed and disgusted.  What kind of juvenile detention system could be so stupid?
 
          Cynthia had a wealthy boyfriend with whom she flew on trips every weekend in his private plane.  Coming from a rather poor background, it was an incredible treat for her to fly each weekend.  Her son was incarcerated in the northern part of the state, making it a four or five hour drive for her to see him.  We took a break in our cussing the foolish state juvenile system to plan a change of schedule for her.  When I asked her if she needed to leave today (Monday), she told me that Bill was going to fly her up there on Thursday.  That miserable rescheduling chore cancelled, we continued our tirade about the juvenile authorities until I left for my commute back home at 6 pm.  An hour later, as I got out of the car, anxious to share this incredible story of negligence with my wife, a wave of nauseated disbelief washed over me.  For the past eight hours I joined my co-workers in blasting the juvenile system, and never, not once, did it occur to me:  What kind of a mother would know that her son was shot through the thigh and wait four days so she could have a convenient flight rather than immediately drive to see her injured son?  I was so horrified at what had happened to me, I put my hand on the hood of my car for support.  I was dizzy with horror:  I was becoming my environment.  Eight hours a day, five days a week I worked with people who were transforming me—or rather, I was allowing them to transform me into one of them.  By not thinking independently, by not weighing my values, morals and even merely my individual tastes, I was absorbing my environment.
 
          In the years that have followed, I have noted many environmental influences.  You can go to a conference and be surrounded by people who like to “play” when they are away from home.  You can work a job that everyone does the bare minimum of what is expected.  Rather than providing leadership and inspiration for your family, you could surrender to an “every man for himself” environment and have no family unity, activities, or even time together.  The only defense against becoming an Incredible Absorbing Person is to know what’s important to you.  Know what’s right and live your life accordingly. 

John S. Sommer
​Licensed Clinical Social Worker

A little background is due here. A few years back I was approached by our local online newspaper to write an advice column. The pay was acceptable (zero), and the newspaper editing was relaxed. Thus began my brief stint as a columnist. 
This particular letter was notable because rather than trying to keep from getting a divorce, the wife desperately wants to improve her marriage. Although this application requires some concentration, the principle is simple: most of us need to change our  marriage transmissions from an automatic to a manual. 
                                                                                                                                                                          

​Hey John,
Am I being unrealistic in my marriage? We have been happily married for eight years, have two children, and are talking about a third. I know our current and future years are not still the honeymoon period, but I find myself a little less happy than I thought I'd be at eight years. I am the center  of our family, and "George" is a less enthusiastic person. He comes home from work and has less patience with the girls than he should have. I notice the kids gripping about each other in the same manner he does. We share chores better than most couples, and he's a good provider. However, he is less and less expressive about being with me. The lack of a warm greeting when one of us gets home is one example of a sad change. I don't need advice on saving my marriage, but making it better. Am I looking at our future: more and more drab? Despite it all, I still love him with all my heart.
Amarillo Annie
 
I have to make an assumption here: y'all planned on this marriage being forever, and not just until you bugged each other too much. When we first begin courting each other, all the special stuff comes effortlessly. Dressing up for each other, going out of our way to please the other, basically working to make the other person know how special they are to us. Then, as our life together progresses, we slip into normal/mindless mode. We stop greeting each other with a loving embrace and kiss, happily making little sacrifices for each other; in other words, we stop trying to impress each other. Years ago, when my daughter got a new(er) car, she had to make the transition from a standard transmission to an automatic. Rather than being pleased with the ease of driving, she expressed her concern: "Daddy, this is kinda boring. I don't know what to do with my left foot [the clutch] or my right hand [the gear shift]. I just hold onto the wheel and it drives itself."  It's the opposite order with our marriages. We're on automatic in the beginning by trying to make the other person happy. Then, later, we change to a manual transmission; we have to manually change gears with a little bit of effort. So what's the problem? If it doesn't come naturally, we don't do it.
So specifically I'd recommend having a friendly sit-down with each other. Rather than tell someone what they are doing wrong, you can remind them of how much you look forward to seeing him, and you would love to be met with a loving kiss (even a light kiss is better than a wave from across the room). Don't be scared to lead the way. Sometimes we boys need loving reminders of how to take care of our girls. Without being overly demanding, help him to remember how to look out for you. Plenty of older couples lead "normal" existences  as  good roommates. Personally, I'd rather try to at least infrequently  impress my girl.

More recently, I received a letter a few years ago about struggling during the holiday season. It seems especially relevant in these strange bug days we are living in.
_____________________________________________________________________
​
​I know we’ve all heard this before, but I am really bummed out at Christmas time. The commercialism, the pressure of Christmas cards, of buying presents, of meal preparation, and on and on. I’m not ultra-religious, but this is (or was) a religious holiday. I don’t want to be sad. I’d like to enjoy this season. Is it even possible?
No Chestnuts Roasting
 
Dear Chess Nut,
Often at holiday time, we have our own expectations of what would make it special. Then, *kaboom*, it’s not what we wished it was. I was reminiscing about a handful of times when something extra cool happened. Once, I was driving with my family across the Oakland-SF Bay Bridge. It’s a five dollar toll (!) going, and nothing coming back. As I got to the toll booth, the toll lady said, “You’re good to go. The guy in front of you paid your toll”. What guy? A stranger. Gone like the Lone Ranger he was. Whoa. And here I am, twenty years later telling you about it. More recently, a handicapped guy was trying to put his coat on next to our table in a local restaurant. He lost his precarious balance and started to fall towards my table. I caught him, and although he was pretty embarrassed, I helped him on with his jacket. When I went to pay for our tasty lunch, I was informed someone had secretly paid for it. It was unnecessary, but nevertheless mighty cool. A neighbor got her front yard “toilet papered” (arguably one of the stupidest “tricks” to play on someone). Before she got home, a couple of high school kids saw it, jumped out of their cars and cleaned it up for her. She never found out who helped her out.
 
The point is this: rather than have expectations of others, how about expectations for ourselves? If a holiday wasn’t very joyous, I would rather it be due to my own un-involvement then other people falling short. Better yet, I’d prefer my holiday to be important by my own kind, energetic, and occasionally inspired actions. Be pro-active. Do some cool stuff.  Make it different than seasons before. When we do good, our hearts and souls are lifted. I think that’s what Christmas was supposed to be about in the first place.

John S. Sommer
Licensed Clinical Social Worker

I was reminded recently that a lot of my parenting contributions focus on potentially serious issues. Many families I work with are managed with a single parent, or one good parent, and one mediocre step parent. Sometimes NO parents: it's the grandparents. However, what about high functioning families? Well performing kids, an impressive mother and father, and no chemical issues. Are they without issues or fears?  Obviously not. A family friend asked for some assistance, and I was pleased to respond. She generously agreed to allow me publish our correspondence to share the ideas with the public. I have changed the names to protect the remarkable humans.
********         ********       ********        ********
Lilly, I have chopped up your letter in order to be a little more exact with my input. Because we are concerned parents, we are obligated to work hard. It seems like a fair trade off for the gifts we have been given.
 
He [7 y.o.] is downtrodden both when faced with a challenge and also when he repeatedly comes home with less than great behavior grades. He leaves the house happy and comes home happy but recently complains of being bored and doesn’t like school.
Most boys are often very different than girls in school performance and attitude. When the first child is a girl (and an extremely high performing one at that), despite our logically altered expectations, we (you) have an unrealistic baseline. Your description is pretty typical for a boy.... and especially a 6/7 yr old one. Boys will rarely express much enthusiasm about school. Me: "Justin, what are you favorite classes?" Justin (5th grade): "Well... I'd say P.E. and lunch. But not in that order."
 
 
I should also note that his older sister is put on a pedestal (by basically most everyone in life) for her amazing behavior and has always had a reputation of goodness and sweetness of nature.
Lucky y'all for having such a blessed child. But also lucky her for having appreciative, nurturing parents. However, that unwitting awesome baseline is a tough act to follow. Try to keep expectations accurate for each child.
 
 
He wakes every night 2-4 times a night every night for at least a year. He shares a room with two sisters and has no problem going to bed in his own room although he likes us to be upstairs while he is going to bed. This problem has ranged from fear of the dark, to nightmares, to just wanting to be with his parents.
Boy, sleep issues are a worrisome affair. Really, other than sucking up little stimulants like chocolate before bed, it's usually a guess as to the cause. Logically, we have to assume his little body has only been here for 7 years, and "systems" like sleep are still developing. One thing is pretty certain, everything is temporary. "Going with" an issue and making slight modifications along the way (see final link) is usually more successful than "putting your foot down" and demanding a change. *(ask my daughter sometime about "bumping)*. It's a good bet he won't be sleeping in your room on prom night. Remember that temporary thing. 
 
We basically are caught between the worry that we are creating a problem vs. wondering if allowing him into the room halfway through the night is just the right thing for this particular child.
That's because y'all are smart, kind and concerned parents. The basic rule of thumb is this: if you love your child and if you are doing something to help your child, it may or may not work, but it will never screw up your kid. We parents rarely are certain we know what to do, but without seeming to hippie-ish, the Beatles had it almost completely right when they sang ♫All you need is love, love.... love is all you need.♪
Stay focused on the issue at hand, but expand your vision to the future as well. This boy won't be coming home for a visit with his adorable wife and first child and be the class clown in the living room. Deal with the present but logically always view the future. In other words, remember to look at the big picture.
Love and dedication conquers all.
 
John Sommer
 
PS  Although the following essay deals more with behavioral/discipline issues, the principle is sound: Judo Rather Than Karate
http://www.johnsommercounseling.com/blog/issues-with-your-kids-use-some-martial-arts-on-em [copy and paste in your browser if you must] 
  
PSS We usually have an easier time with the child who reminds us of ourselves. The kid(s) who are different take more work (and worry) because it doesn't come naturally to us. It may be more work, but we don't want to just raise a large family of clones....

This is a re-run. However, as it ran about three years ago, perhaps you have forgotten about it. I didn't 'cause it  disturbed me in a big way. Dear Crabby, AKA Jeannie, is the daughter of the original Dear Abby. As she bought her name, I guess that means she gets to pretend she's really her mother. However, if that were true, she'd be about 160 years old (junior is 80). As a highly paid "advice" columnist, she owes it to the public to not be a knucklehead. In this now semi-classic piece of weirdness, she indicates that the whole "to have and to hold from this day forward" vow thing was too old fashioned or something. Y'all see what you think.
One last item: as I post this I ask the public that if you hear someone pounding in the trunk of her Bentley, please let me out.

Laaaaaaaaadies and gentlemen: in this corner, weighing in at, apparently featherweight status, Dear Crabbie Junior!!!! In the other corner, weighing in at it’s none of your business, Jooooooooohn Sommer. Let’s lay out the fight details for the second fight of their nonexistent relationship [see: http://www.johnsommercounseling.com/blog/hey-john-vs-dear-crabby [4/28/17] for their first fight].

A slightly sexed up sixty-something year old guy asked her what to do when his wife was unmotivated to have sex due to some pain issues. He met a woman who had the same issue, sort of, with her husband. She was hinting that an on-the-side sexual relationship would be OK with her. He wondered, “in today’s world”, if it was acceptable. So he asked Crabigail Junior what she thought. In her kinda weak “guidance”, she discouraged the hook up. However, she prefaced her response with, “The problem with an adulterous relationship is that the other person usually finds out”. 

Seriously? That’s the problem? You get caught?

So we have two problems here: Dear Crabby’s bizarro advice, and Mr. Wants To Get Laid’s issue of needs vs. principles. Let’s address them in order. If you are married and have been faithful, and you ask advice from someone who says that the problem is not morals, values, or, dare I say it: vows, you’ve picked the wrong advice columnist. It's a slam dunk: it's time to look for a new coach for your team. I don’t need the human  weather vane that changes direction depending on the wind guiding me, no siree.

Issue two (and most importantly): do we alter or abandon our values based on a new circumstance? Worse yet, do we justify our behaviors based on our perception of what is currently “acceptable” by society? Years ago, my childhood friend told me now that his son was thirteen (and not sexually active), girls were calling him all the time. He said, “I don’t know what to tell him except always use protection”. My daughter was also thirteen, and I told my friend, “that sure as hell is not what I’m telling my thirteen year old daughter! I promote proper behavior and the development of their own set of morals and values”. He was stunned into silence for a few seconds and then gushed, “Wow! That is so cool! I never thought of that!”   *sigh*

So Mr. Wanna Get Laid, here’s my two cents worth. Your wife’s sexually related pain could be indicative of something being medically wrong. Encourage her to go in for a competent check up and exam. If it’s something psychological, seeking out a good therapist that is knowledgeable in this field is tough, but not impossible. Finally, if the sex incompatibility is not solvable, you need to revisit your love and commitment to your loved one. How willing are we to sacrifice for someone we love? You’ve got some work to do in terms of meaningful self-examination. I wish you peace, loyalty and love.

             Imagine, if you would, this odd scenario: Mrs. Betty Boopinski and her husband Grover went to see a counselor for marital issues. First Betty shared her concerns about their marriage. Grover, not as verbal, eventually threw in his two cents worth. Then he said something that she disagreed with. She began to mildly argue the point, to which he mildly argued back. Then they became somewhat more irritated with each other. Well, the counselor had had about enough of that crap and loudly proclaimed: “Y’all knock off that arguing right now, and I’m not kidding! One more word and you’re in a world of trouble!!”
            Most of us would guess that said counselor would eventually face financial difficulties as the word got out that he was, at best, ineffectual at his job. Who on earth would try to teach problem solving skills by merely commanding “stop it right now”? Wait! We have an answer to the question. You, the quiet kid in the back of the class with his hand up, you have the answer? “What did you say? Every parent on earth does it”?
            Consider the scene, only shrink the arguing adults to our arguing kids. Kids can be amazingly creative with things to disagree about. If I was brainstorming with ten adults on this subject, we could fill up ten pages full of kids’ arguments. Once, I observed two young brothers swimming in a large lake. When the older brother would swim into a warmer spot he would yell: “Mom! Jayden’s peeing on me again!” To which Jayden would loudly respond: “I am not! I peed in the lake five minutes ago!”  The absurd argument went on until the agitated mother told them to get out of the water and sit apart from each other on their beach towels.
            One mother confided in me that she was on the verge of a panic attack every single time she loaded her boys into the car. When I asked if she had developed a fear of driving, she exhaustedly explained, “No. It’s more like a shotgun-a-phobia. Every time we go anyplace, there is always a loud battle who rides shotgun. I don’t want to go anywhere with my children”.
 
Perhaps it is time to re-evaluate our teaching role with children. Parents are busy and parents are tired. Arguments, though common, seem irritatingly unbearable most of the time. However, many parents make the same mistake the goony counselor mentioned above made: telling someone to stop arguing teaches them nothing. As a result, no problem solving skills are learned, and the problems will continue. Perhaps, even worse, the kids grow up with no problem resolution abilities, and will not know how to handle situations at work or in their own marriages as they grow older. Now in fairness to tired, irritated parents, sometimes you just gotta shut ‘em down. However, there are many important problem solving moments that parents miss. Here’s a few examples and potential teachable solutions:
* “I call shotgun!” “You had it last time!” “It doesn’t matter, I called it first.” Etc., etc.
Head back inside the house for a lightning-fast meeting. “Kids, here’s the new rule: you have to keep track of whose turn it is. I purpose we start from the beginning by age. First would be Jason, second, Jayden and third Jaycee. If you lose track of whose turn it is and there is an argument, everyone is in the back, and unfortunately I will have no company up front. Y’all decide how to start this, and let’s get out of here. If they can’t decide: perfect. No shotgun on this lap.
* “Mom! Pedro won’t give me my book back!” “You weren’t even looking at it!” “It doesn’t matter, it’s my book, and give it back to me!”
“Come here boys and sit with me. How do you want to handle the problem of sharing personal property? Do we want to say nobody can touch anything of someone else’s without permission, or do we say if you weren’t using it, it’s ok for the other one to play with it as long as they treat it properly and put it back? As an example, your father and I bought the TV, thus it’s really ours. Although I would rather have you both watch TV without getting my permission to use my stuff, if you would rather me not share, I’m ok with that. You boys have five minutes to figure out a solution.”
 
 
 
The point is, we need to teach our kids how to solve problems. It’s more immediate work for the parent, but it reduces problems in the future. My counseling business is full of kids who make ridiculous decisions and suffer because of it. I have a room full of cutters that cut themselves because they are emotionally tortured by issues that are solvable. With no problem solving skills, kids will grow up to be unhappy adults, and highly questionable parents with their own kids.
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IX0z0DbzSp0
 
 
 
John S. Sommer
Licensed Clinical Social Worker~Supervisor
7.15.2020

She sounded a little monotone in her description of her recent job change.  “Yeah, they were really cheating me out of money.  I do the nasty work- I clean up after people in the low income motel.  You can’t believe how filthy people leave their rooms.  Even though we are not doing much business right now, and being as they only pay me $3.50 per room I clean, I spend eight hours making way less than minimum wage.”  She brightened slightly when she continued, “so I gave them notice, quit and found a new job.”
            In her “life kinda sucks” voice she told me that was now a line food preparer in a popular restaurant. This is a small group of people who work in a restaurant kitchen putting food on plates.  Then, when the dishwasher didn’t show up, she volunteered to take over that duty.  After a couple of days the manager told her she liked her energy and was considering cross-training her for cashier and waitress.  I was surprised at her lackluster attitude.  So I tossed her a story.
            “So let’s say you worked as a kickass waitress and cashier for a couple of years.  Then you served this nice, well dressed man three times in about ten days.  He approached you on a break and he asked you if he could visit after you got off.  You told him you weren’t interested in dating anyone.  He told you he wanted to talk to you about a job, not a date.  After work he told you he was the owner of the restaurant chain you were working at.  He had come in because he had heard you were a versatile  hardworker, and wanted to see if you were interested in having your own restaurant.  It would require months of paid training, but he had been looking for a hard working self starter, and you were the best he had seen. Now, after a number of years at a mediocre wage, you have been “discovered”.  It’s your payback for hard work.”
            She went silent and began to softly cry.  I explained the difference between dreams and goals.  And although dreams do not have a high probability of coming true, without a dream, the probability is zero.  In this manner we can motivate ourselves to work hard, have high expectations and work towards something greater than only paying the bills every moment of our lives.
            This same principle applies to young people.  When I ask teenagers to “trip” (i.e., imagine) about their post high school future, many have no thought as to what they would love to be, or do, or even see.  Teachers, parents, and adult friends can help teens envision different futures.  Imagine a mutually loving, kind and forever marriage and friendship: a far cry than what they have seen.  Consider different ways of raising their own children: again, perhaps far greater than the manner in which they were raised. Dreaming of a greater existence is not only therapeutic, but essential.
 
Socrates once said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”  Additionally one may continue: The unimagined life mindlessly repeats the past.
  
John S. Sommer
Licensed Clinical Social Worker
2020

Although these are re-runs, they seem to be particularly relevant during the current America Isolation Crisis. It has been somewhat difficult for my wife and me, and we have it easy as pie compared to all the folks with kids stuck at home. Out of school, and basically with nowhere to go. Is it possible to somehow take advantage of the current situation and fill our households with some joy and amazement? With great purpose and effort, we should be able to do a few things we haven't done before.
* P.S. If you get intimidated by too much to read, relax. You can read this in segments. Follow the roman numerals. If you're scared, read them one at a time.
 
I.
The Entertainment Director
Man I was tired. I had just seen five kids in a row, including two hyper little animals that took all my energy to (hopefully) do some good work with. It was one of those exhaustions that you can hardly move your jaw to speak. It was finally time to head home (a very short commute, fortunately), and as I pulled in the driveway, there was my eleven year old son waiting for me with a basketball tucked under his arm. I was so tired. I thought: “son, don’t you have any friends? Do I always have to be your entertainment director?” Of course, I would never say such a thing, but I was worn out to the bone. I told him we needed to have supper first, hoping I could find a tiny drop of energy in the meantime.
 
During supper I mentally recounted the five kids I had just seen. It then occurred to me that something was all screwed up with my priorities if I expended all of my time, creativity and energy with everyone else’s kids, and then I stiff my own kids. What’s wrong wit dat picture? I either needed to reduce the energy I put into my counseling kids so I’d have more when I get home, or I needed to create new energy once I got home. We know that during a long workday, if we take a break, we have to restart ourselves to get up to speed again. Going home was no different, except being a good father was way more important than restarting myself back when I was a busboy. So that’s what I started doing: mentally creating energy for my family.  Now, many years later, and clearly less stamina, I wish for the same experience with my grandsons. I have a vision: when they are here for a visit, they crawl across the floor, dragging themselves exhaustedly towards their beds, begging to finally get to sleep after an amazing day with us. It doesn’t always happen exactly like that, but I sure would like it to.

So what to do about our kid’s needing us for memories for inspiration, as an example of how they might want to be someday as a parent? Most families I know use the wonder of electronics as their kid’s entertainment director. TV, video, and phones are the staple of most busy parents way of keeping their kid’s occupied. All are okay, but to replace you as their entertainment director? We all need to apply our work ethic at home. Work hard for your employers, but don’t forget your loyalties to your family. It’s two jobs, and really, what else are you going to do with your time? Watch the incessant drone of the 24 hour news station? Really?
 
 II.
Through The Eyes Of A Child
 I would like to briefly enumerate a few of the things we teach our kids. We helped them to walk, taught them language, how to flip a light switch,  and how to use a toilet. We also introduced them to the use of utensils and hopefully manners, how to share, and on and on. So how ‘bout the flip side:  when they teach us? A few years ago, one tiny grandson almost twisted out of my arms to listen to a new sound: wind chimes. I wasn’t listening, but he was joyous at this incredible sound. So here we are, eight years later and I pulled out two quarters.  I had forgotten about the “skill” of coin flipping. Pull out a quarter and flip it in the air. Exactly how did you do that? Balance it on a finger with an edge sticking out. Put your thumb under it and flick it up. Not too high; maybe five inches or so. Now catch it and flip it upside down on the back of your other hand. Heads or tails?  It’s a huge new skill for a kid.
 
Now, have two players doing the same thing. You now have the game of “flips”. This is also known as “match or no match”. Are the coins the same (both heads for example), or different? You go back and forth with who gets to call. I conveniently left out the gambling aspect of this game that landed me in the 8th grade principal’s office a number of times...
 
Now you can progress to spinning your coin on a table top. Observe how you did this and teach the child. Usually the coin ends up half-way across the floor the first dozen times or so. Once they have it down, try to put your finger on the top of the spinning coin to stop it standing up. This one takes many, many tries to luckily finally get it [a big coin is easier than a small one]. We burned up over an hour of joy-filled entertainment / new skill.
 
The kids departed back to their parent’s house and were quite pleased with their new skill and game(s). However, it was clearly me that benefited the most. I love the song that sings of the beauty of looking “through the eyes of a child”. I may have instructed them on coin flipping, but far more importantly, they taught me the joy of their amazement of this new game and skill. It’s a nearly forgotten world of joy and delight  that is pretty easily accessible to we adults. My senses have been somewhat heightened since this fun little experience. I have been hearing birds more distinctly, and the colors of the new leaves on the springtime trees seem more vivid. Fantastic contrast between the bright new leaves and the blue sky. It may be that the excitement and wonder of children is contagious to we adults. I’m more than ready for another experiment.

III.
Baseball Catch
I have been asked for more parent-child notes. So I present to you a game, and frankly, a great one: Baseball Catch. I know, I know, football season is still rolling, and I expect a potential flood of depressed Dallas Cowboy fans any day now in desperate need of counseling. Still, America's Game (baseball) is just around the corner. So here's how the game goes:
Supplies:
1 baseball or softball
2 people (at least), preferably an adult* and child (or children)
1 baseball glove per person
1 yard without a lot of rocks or holes
* the adult must do a fun play-by-play with every play
 
The Rules:
Stand apart in the yard. The distance should be intelligently calculated by the adult to be appropriate for the age of the child. The first person, usually the parent, plays the imaginary role of a batter AND a baseman. The parent throws the ball in numerous ways to the child (smooth grounder, choppy grounder, fly ball, etc.), then magically becomes the baseman. The object is to throw the batter out and get three outs. Then the kid does the same thing to the parent. Back and forth.
 
So here's what it sounds like:
“Nobody on, nobody out. The first hit is a grounder to Adele. She scoops it up perfectly and fires it back to Daddy! Yeeeeeeer OUT! One away. Batter two comes to the plate. It's a mile high fly ball! She's under it. No sweat. Fielded nicely. Two out. It's a choppy grounder! She bobbles the ball, but fires it to first! Safe! Tie base goes to the runner. There's a woman on first, two away. It's a very slow grounder! Adele runs up to it, fires it to second for the force out. Yeeeeer OUT! Three away, and Adele's at bat.”
 
The kids normally don't do the animated announcing, so the parent can even do it when the kid is “at bat”. Any “hit” that was not particularly playable is a foul ball. There are a handful of things accomplished by playing a game like this. It's a self esteem builder, as they are guaranteed to improve with practice at home. The kids learn the rules of the game like tie base, or a force out, or how to turn a double play. And, perhaps most importantly, you are creating a powerful bond with your child by excitedly playing with them. Mothers, don't forget, just because you haven't played in a long time, many of you were excited, fun-loving softball players when you were younger. Don't have a glove anymore? Go buy yourself a good one. They are about the price of two or three tanks full of gas for your minivans. Better get after it, as time slips away like water through your fingers. You're almost out of time.

John S. Sommer
Licensed Clinical Social Worker
3/2020

            I have a probation group that meets once a week. We have more than our share of drug offenses. I asked, “when are you weakest at staying straight?” One woman said, "when I'm really stressed out, I have a hard time not using meth". I commented, "amphetamines are not tranquilizers, they would usually increase a person's anxiety". She responded, "I feel terrible and I just want to feel different".
            My first reaction was amazement: why would you indulge in something that is detrimental to you when you are already feeling bad? However, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Many of us do something to make us feel differently. The folks with poor coping skills do all sorts of strange things. My little teenagers threaten suicide, cut themselves, run away, go ballistic on social media, to name just a few. Adults with questionable problem solving skills may indulge/overindulge in the drug of their choice (obviously alcohol being the king of the hill), gulp a prescribed tranquilizer (Xanax, etc), respond with inappropriate anger, and on and on. Although a little sad, they are all fairly common responses to unwanted emotional stressors. Is there a way to alter our responses when times are bad? Sometimes not, but often times, yes.
            Let’s work with Karrie The Cutter (fake name of course). At 15, she came in at the “request” of her mother. Medium student, recently quit the school band after a year, Dad’s a irresponsible divorced distant  guy with a new wife who didn’t care for Karrie much. She has a younger brother and sister and lives with her Mom who works for a medium-poor wage. K was an over reactor to stresses. Unprepared for a test, boyfriend issues, criticism from her tense Mom were a few of the issues. She had recently been in inpatient treatment for a cutting incident. When I asked her what was the most important thing she learned from her very expensive inpatient treatment, she said, “Well....... that I never want to go back there! There were some really messed up kids there. And other than groups meeting all the time, there wasn’t anything to do.” In other words, she didn’t learn a damn thing while she was there about self soothing, problem solving, or alternatives to cutting.
            This was not a “trick” in therapy, but rather logical: I wanted to get a bird’s eye view of home. As I’m not going home with my clients, I asked her for a pictorial essay. I gave her some specific instructions: pictures of each one of their 11 dogs (*sigh*), a shot of each family member (preferably posed), her mom doing something like cooking, and an interesting shot of their home. I gave her a couple of photographic tips like shooting little people or animals on their eye level in order to increase the challenge (and quality of the photos). One effect of such an assignment is that it tells someone that what they do or say is important. My enthusiastic reception (and critique) of her work added to the positive nature of the assignment.
            Second assignment was to have her write down every issue she noticed and how she handled it. An example could be, “your mom comes home from work in a bad mood. She tells you she’s tired of picking up all your stuff and putting it away. Basically, it feels like she’s yelling at you for no reason. You go to your room, plug in your earbuds and cry. That is one example. You can also note some stuff that you have done that makes you feel better like going outside and playing with the dogs or writing in your diary. Give me a sentence about the problem and what you did. Do it every day there’s an issue and let’s review it.” The subsequent challenge will be mutual: I need to come up with a few do-able ideas for her to try, and sell her on the idea. She will need to make herself do something different when she’s in a crisis.
            When I asked Karrie how her Mom handles problems, her answer was to the point: “she yells a lot”. I certainly don’t want to be overly critical of an overworked single parent, but why do so many parents indulge in certain behaviors that they do not want their kids to do? I have a bunch of teens who are experimenting with vapes (e-cigarettes). Every single one of them has a smoking parent. Same with anger issues. So, do we need to be perfect in order to properly teach our kids? Man, I sure hope not. However, if we want our kids to try to improve at anything, we should lead the way with showing we are also capable of change. Or at least trying to change.
For a few more ideas of helping your child, I refer you an essay or two. If doesn’t come up as a link, copy and paste it in your browser.
 
http://www.johnsommercounseling.com/fathers-and-daughters.html
http://www.johnsommercounseling.com/blog/vat-eest-dat
 
Having a parent working to improve themselves immensely increases the likelihood of a kid improving their own life .                                                                                                    
​                                                                                                                                                                      3/2020

After having been babied by our fine friends following a recent eye surgery, I was reminded of a powerful healing aid I had somewhat forgotten about. Debbie began by making a super delicious supper followed with her semi-famous chocolate sheet cake. Jody watched over me like a protective mother, dimming lights he thought would bother me, and making sure my beer was cold. As I slunk to bed at a frightfully early 9:30, I heard him remind the two best friends, Debbie and Denise to “keep it down”. I slept uncommonly well, despite the weird little cup over my eye. I am positive the extra care and affection I was graced with sped my healing significantly.
 
The next day I was thinking about my first dramatic lesson in unexpected healing. Twenty five years ago my father, at the tender age of seventy-two, died of pancreatic cancer. One of his employees was a somewhat uninspired property manager for Dad. I didn’t dislike him, but I didn’t care for him much. A jokester and a little lazy, I didn’t spend much time with him. I hadn’t seen him in two or three years prior to Dad’s death.
 
When Dad died, my Mom asked me to give a brief talk at Dad’s wake. I was a little nervous, as I can occasionally be a bit of a crybaby; it would have been humiliating to break up in front of a large group of people. Nevertheless, with too little preparation and a deep prayer for calm, I persevered. The talk was enthusiastically received, but I was spent. Everyone wanted to talk to me afterwards, but I wanted some time to myself. As the mortuary was huge, I decided to disappear down the maze of hallways, deep inside the building. I put my back against the wall and slid down to sit in the hallway. To my disappointment, I heard someone coming down the hall. Dad’s employee appeared and wanted to talk, but I wasn’t in the mood, so I said I was sorry to be abrupt, but he needed to go. He said he has something he needed to tell me about my Dad, and would be brief. I reluctantly agreed.
 
He said, “As you know, your Dad subdivided some land into lots and sold them for people to build their own houses on. He called me on a Thursday night and told me he was coming into town Friday at nine a.m. and to be ready. When he arrived I got into his car and he asked me where the Browns had built their house. I guided him a couple of blocks and showed him. He pulled up to the curb and told me I could stay in the car or go with him, it was going to be brief. Of course I went; I wanted to see what he was doing. He rang the bell and a little old lady answered. Your Dad re-introduced himself and asked if he could talk with her and Mr. Brown. She served us a cup of coffee while she got her husband. When he came in he was pleased to see your Dad. He told him they had always been grateful at the nice lot and good price he had given them. Your Dad stood up and said, ‘I went down to the title company yesterday and discovered that they had not given you the discount you were supposed to get for paying cash, so I brought you this.’ He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a check for $7,500.
“They assured your Dad they were fine with the deal as it was, but he insisted, ‘This is not my money, it is yours. I’m just sorry you didn’t get it as you should have.’
“Mrs. Brown was crying, saying as they were on a fixed income, the money was a godsend for them. Mr. Brown was close to tears and shook your father’s hand so long, your Dad had to gently take his arm and pull his hand loose. Your Dad didn’t say anything on the way back to my house. When I got out, he told me he’d be back on Monday, and we had some work to do. Then he drove off.
I just thought you needed to know that.”
With that, he said, “I loved your Father too” and left.  I never saw him again.
 
In light of the sadness and difficulties that followed my Dad’s death, I am positive that the extreme kindness shown to me that evening helped speed up my healing. I have since incorporated this in my own therapeutic assistance I offer people in my profession. If I didn’t have the opportunity to know the person who has died, I ask to be treated to stories about them. I would like to get to know them, even at a distance. I benefit by understanding a person’s depth of their loss, and help them in sharing significant memories.
 
So, to people who have helped heal me with your extreme kindness, I thank you with all my heart. You have taught me much.
 
 
John S. Sommer
Licensed Clinical Social Worker
2/2020

The origin of the therapy began at a residential treatment center for abused kids. I was frustrated that my group of young teens went from enthusiastically diving into a project, then, in a matter of days it was mutiny on the bounty. What might have been a two week project disintegrated into a three day workout; then my group went on strike. Fortunately, my supervisor introduced me to a new way of thinking. Rather than looking at the dismal work left undone, we set up tiny work goals. We put little red flags on two stakes. We then put them at the beginning of the day’s project, then the other at where we intended to stop for that day. We would then celebrate our day’s accomplishment rather than be discouraged at what was left. It worked very well.
Years later this theory of minor accomplishments made its way into the realm of therapeutic self improvement. In one of the classes I do, we (including me) declare an easy project we commit ourselves to. The object of the project is to convince ourselves that we can do what we say. Most of us have the best of intentions, but often crap out of its completion. Exercise, lose weight, quit smoking, watch less TV are only a handful of good intentions. Then we end up feeling like a loser. Go to garage sales and what do you always see? Exercise equipment. Oops, crapped out again. So this home therapy is meant as a confidence builder, not a grand achievement award. So pay attention to the simple rules and try it out once in a while.
 
DON’T DO:
■ Do not plan important projects like quitting smoking or losing weight or painting your house. Do not over obligate yourself.
■ Don't plan on spending endless time doing the project. It must have a start date and a finish date. Typically three to  
eight weeks.
■ Do not  plan stuff you don’t know how to do. This exercise is only about keeping your word.
 
DO:
■ Plan realistically. Predict obstacles and have a backup plan. If you were going to walk in the park three times a week for 15 minutes, what if you have a week of rain? Most malls have a walking area for indoor exercise. Plan for possible obstacles.
■ Set your start date and finish date. This can range from three weeks to about eight weeks. Even if you love what you are doing, you must stop according to plan. You can re-up your plan in a few days, but keep in mind the object: to do what we said we were going to do.
■ Write down what the little project is as well as the starting and stopping date. Don’t forget to really stop like you said you would. Let’s have some completion here. Check up on yourself with frequency.
■ Consider your lack of completing your project as a bad, doubledog badluck jinx. Once, my project included reading only three times a week (minimum five minutes). On the second time of getting up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I remembered it was Sunday night and I was one reading short. I crept back into my room, got my book and read for ten minutes in the bathroom. No doubledog jinx for me.
 
Here are a few examples, most from my classes (eight week class):
 
*Go over to my Mom’s house once a week and help with a few chores. *My brother and I have hardly talked in the past ten years. If it’s ok with him, I’ll call once a week. *Read for at least ten minutes, three times a week. *Bike down to the high school track in the morning three times a week. I might walk some laps as a bonus, but it’s not part of the game. *Me and my twelve year old son will read back and forth to each other four times a week. No time stated. *Work at least twice a week at completely emptying out the crazy garage. *Lift weights three mornings a week. No amount of time stated for how long. *Take over cooking supper for the family once a week. This includes cleaning up. *Go to the post office and buy eight self stamped post cards. I’ll send my son one a week for eight weeks. *Prepare my garden for spring planting.
 
It is important to remember the purpose of this therapeutic “game”: to add to our personal credibility (and to a certain degree, self esteem). Let’s stop with the good intentions b.s. and add reliability to ourselves. Keep it simple and do-able.
Finally, don’t forget to roll around in your completion like a pig in mud.
Be pleased with your success.

John S. Sommer
Licensed Clinical Social Worker    2020

 

Merry Christmas kind readers of my blog. The attention of more than 150 people reading my (hopefully) well meaning contributions has contributed to a joyful year for me. That, and my gifts from God make my life so good. I wish y'all a joyful Christmas and a record setting year of 2020. Pax nobiscum.

It's almost Thankgiving, and you know what that means: applying a new definition to the holiday. I'll happily take the bird, I just want something that lasts the whole day....

She came in ready to unload. It was appropriate considering she had a number of issues that were of concern. However, it was a difficult session as she never stopped to inhale for an hour. Finally I had to politely interrupt her to slow the flow of complaints. Without minimizing of any of her concerns, I told her I was needing to provide her at least an observation. Maybe even an idea or two. So when I stopped her and told her I was OK to just be her sounding board, but if she was seeking some possible solutions, I had something to suggest. She agreed. So I asked her if she wanted to engage in a therapy experiment. I ventured: “for one day, 24 hours, I would like for you to reflect on how often you get negative and complain. Then, even in mid-sentence, stop and re-direct your comments. In other words, no complaining whatsoever for 24 hours. The point is to see how much of your life has become negative. You don’t have to start liking negative stuff, just no complaining for a day”. She cautiously agreed.
 
Two weeks later she came in and said, “Are you trying to make me crazy or something? You’re making me nuts. Because I messed up so much on the first day, I decided to do it the next. It’s killin’ me. Now I notice all the time when I’m constantly complaining”. Although this was not the completely expected outcome, we both found it interesting how we have to purposely make ourselves be positive. And that negative has become so easy. What the heck has happened to us?!
 
So here’s how I personalized this piece of advice for myself: on Thanksgiving I’m going to make it a personal day to concentrate on thanks giving. The pilgrims were probably brave folks, even with their weird hats. The Indians seemingly welcomed them, and of course got fleeced in the long run. But enough history…. I want a fun holiday. So on Thanksgiving I try to temporarily shut down my whining, and wallow in my gratitude. I’ll have to remind myself 500 times throughout the day, “what cool things am I grateful for?” Then really think about them for a while. Let me give you a couple of personal examples:
*My first public speaking gig was as a college senior. I was to give a five minute presentation about, of all things, juvenile delinquency; a topic which I had some personal experience in. In front of only eight other classmates, I crapped out. I couldn’t keep my voice from quivering. I couldn’t remember what to say, so I gave a lousy minute and a half presentation and got a D. Today I had a group of twenty, and it was like talking to a friend in my living room. Somehow I have developed into a public presenter, and I am amazed and very grateful.
*I was lost in the excitement and beauty of music by the age of 14. Although almost everyone my age has a big surround sound stereo, it’s only used for TV viewing. Any music, if any at all, has been relegated as background fill. As an older guy I still derive such pleasure from music, it is a constant joy. To this I am incredibly grateful.
*I only excelled at bowling and ping pong when I was younger. Well, music recognition too. Somehow, along the way I developed into a real counselor with decent credibility. How did this ever happen? It’s amazing.
 
Get it? It’s not an exercise of monotone recital of things-I-am-grateful-for, but rather a deep look into what cool stuff we hardly even pay attention to. Dig deep, give it lots of thought. After all, you have the entire Thanksgiving day to give thanks. It’s kinda disturbing it takes so much effort, but I’m ready to really celebrate Thanksgiving. So I’m going to chase away Mr. Whine and instead be Mr. Gratitude for a full day and start loving Thanksgiving again.
I’ll top it off with the big tasty bird. And the candied yams. And dressing. And cranber……

I began my private practice 32 years ago primarily as a drug and alcohol counselor, having directed the program for our local mental health center for the four years prior. Methamphetamine was just "coming of age" in popularity and production, but the lost and sometimes raging alcoholics have always been with us. Now, here we are, THIRTY-SIX years later, and due to the relatively small size of our town I have been privy to the inter-generational transmission of shitty lives. Not to say that all the kids of strung out users get lost themselves, but a bunch of them do. 

In the last 20 years or so, the focus of my work has shifted to working with kids , teens and their families. Now, incredibly, I have worked with the grandchildren of people I began my career with so many years ago. Someone I met many years ago was a Southwest kingpin of meth. His son was a lively, spirited 14 year old. He was recently sentenced, as a repeat offender, to twenty years in prison. Soon his kids will be coming in for counseling.

I wrote the upcoming essay pretending that users might read it, kick their paternal or maternal instincts  into overdrive and help to wake them up to the likelihood of damning their children and spouses because of their own stupid need for self-gratification. It was published in the paper, but the many enthusiastic responses were from (presumably) non-users. So here's my offer: you may send the upcoming essay to whomever you wish without further permission. I would prefer to have my name associated with the essay, as it's pretty dang personal. You can slide it under the front door of a lost friend, or hand it to your sibling. It's not easy to read, so I'm sorry if it's kind of a buzzkill for you. But I'll tell you this: it's the real deal. 
​http://www.johnsommercounseling.com/blog/badness-the-next-generation

​Hey John,
I am a sophomore in high school. Recently in biology we have been learning about DNA. I know you’re just a counselor, not a scientist, but if fruit flies have to be a certain way because of that DNA stuff, what about us humans? My Dad’s no good, and my Mom tries hard with all of us, but I still don’t want to grow up and be exactly like her. You said you have been a counselor for a long time. Do you think the children have to grow up to be like the parents?
​
Scared of  my biology.
 
Dear Scared L’il Fruit Fly,
 
The short answer is no. The long answer is: you have to want to be like someone. Or something. Kids from hugely overweight parents may have a genetic pre-disposition for weight gain, but it’s not a freakin’ voodoo curse or something. But, many times means you have something of a handicap that you must work defeat for a long time.One of my early lessons came from a kid who I knew well and had high regard for. This boy’s Mom was a highly strung, prescription eatin’ woman. She seemed predisposed to being extremely tightly wound and having extremely poor problem resolution skills. “Danny” was fifteen when I first met him. He was my very first "cutter", although he kept it a secret from me for six or seven months. When I saw the cuts I told him, “You know, as your mom's ripoff insurance isn't paying for me, so my charge is you teaching me about cutting”. He very reluctantly walked me through the last incident and I realized it wasn't “making a statement” about his lousy life, IT WAS A TRANQUILIZER! As he cut, he became calmer and calmer. We worked diligently together, and he finally discovered new methods of calming down. When I talked to him a few years ago (he's in his thirties now), he called to rage about a terrible incident(s) that happened to someone dear to him. I called him back the next day to ask if he had been drinking last night, and he said yes. I reminded him that his massively dysfunctional father, of who he broke off contact with years ago, was a very heavy drinker. When I asked him if drinking was the new cutting, he began to cry. Now, years later, he has two issues to work on: learning new strategies of calming yourself down properly AND consciously working at defeating the call of your genetics. The call of genetics seems to be somewhat inconsistent. Sometimes it's fantastically powerful, and sometimes it's hardly visible. The counselor-type question that you pose is this: are we destined to follow our genetic code, or do we have a choice? Everyone will say we have a choice, but is that true? How do we defeat genes that point us toward a sad life like those that came before us?
 
First and foremost, we need to evaluate our lives and decide upon a philosophy of life. Are we OK just living from day to day, with nothing ever really changing or improving in our lives, or do we set out to challenge ourselves in order to get better at almost everything? Even with set backs, can we continue to move forward to improve our lives? My great friend Jack was pretty uncoordinated in sixth grade. While many of us would put on our baseball gloves and easily toss the ball around, Jack was a lousy catch. Everyone at that age who was poor at something would find something else to do. Jack was the single exception. Day after day, even being the last one chosen for various teams, he would join us in our daily ball games. Despite his lack of sports popularity, he persevered. I had completely forgotten those days until, a few years ago when, during a visit from my now distant friend, I watched him in our backyard tossing the ball around with my 30 year old son. I was shocked by the old lost memory of his “stubbornness”, and subsequent success.
A 16 year old angrily proclaimed, “my Dad’s a terrible father. He screams at all of us kids, and punches my mother”. When I asked him what he was on juvenile probation for, he said it was for beating down a kid at school who had pissed him off. I looked at him, raised an eyebrow with an expression of, “awww, isn’t that cute? Like father like son”. He hadn’t even considered the connection before. I saw him working downtown about four years later, and he pulled me aside to tell me he and his wife were expecting their first child. He continued, “I’ve still got a temper, but I’m working on it all the time. No way my kid is gonna see the same crap I did. Man, this is the hardest I’ve ever worked in my life”. As I was shaking paws goodbye, I congratulated him while reminding him that the work is never over. This also translates into our successes are also never over.
 
Nowadays when I work with my multitude of teens with drug-infested parents, I inform them of our potential genetic danger. Although it’s not guaranteed, we’d be stupid to not be aware of it. Little stoner teens proclaim they’ll never use “dope” (the new term for meth). They are more than surprised when I inform them that not all teens enjoy getting drunk or stoned. That could mean they have an  increased sensitivity to altered states. They might get more pleasure from the drug high than other kids due to their weird genetics. If so, and drug tastes “mature” over time, meth may be in the future mix. Certainly too much alcohol is predictable.
So step two seems obvious: never let your guard down. Just because you’re OK at 22 doesn’t mean the genetic monster doesn’t awaken in times of crisis at 31. If you need guidance, seek out a therapist that carries credibility with you. Know what you are going to do instead of letting your genetics decide for you. Cop an attitude about being forced to do something against your will. Genetics is not your master. Dream of greatness: as a parent, as a spouse, as a permanent friend, as a hard worker. Always work towards not merely defeating crappy genetics, but in becoming a significant human being.
In conclusion, the long answer is also no.

We were walking down the hall of the house, headed to my room to privately plan a present for my wife, Denise. I needed adult daughter Monique’s input and assistance in getting the present. As we turned into my room, Monique put her hand on her chest and proclaimed: “I can’t believe how nervous I am!” I was surprised she said that, and asked her why on earth would planning her mother’s present would make her jittery? She laughed and said, “Daddy, every time I got in trouble with you, we would walk down the hall, sit on the bed and talk about what mistake I had just made.” Ha! Twenty-five years later teenage PTSD would rear its funny little head.
 
Changing the Environment and Increasing The Impact of What You Are
Instructing Your Kid
 
I saw it just the other day: a dutiful dad was taking his two children out to a family affair. He did what most parents don’t do: explain behavioral expectations ahead of time. I was pretty impressed. The kids were messing with their best friend (a tablet with a video game continuously playing) when he announced, “Kids….. kids….. Kids! Listen to me!” They paused their game and peered over their electronic best buddy and appeared to temporarily pay attention. He gave them good, short expectations of behavior and concluded. Fortunately, both these kids are spirited but well behaved. Things turned out fine. HOWEVER, there is a thing to do that increases the likelihood that children will follow instructions. Read the essay before this one about explaining your expectations. Secondly, and almost as importantly: change the environment for your quick little meeting.
It doesn’t have to be dramatic, just go somewhere else to talk to your kid. When you briefly explain your expectations prior to the event AND move around a little, you often will command a kid’s attention. It’s very simple and surprisingly effective. Here are a couple of examples:
 
● Drive to the store with your kids. Wait until y’all are out of the car and almost in the store and announce you need to tell them something quickly. See the essay before this one for “The Meeting” ideas. [ http://www.johnsommercounseling.com/blog/shopping-with-children-the-curse-of-the-cereal-aisle ]
 
● You need to discuss the amazingly low grade on your child’s math test. Calmly say something like: “Let’s talk about it for a minute”. Then sit down in the empty kitchen and chat.
 
● Your kid screwed up on curfew by an hour. You greet her, tell her you were worried about her, and when she begins her reasons/excuses, gently tell her it would be better to discuss it tomorrow morning. After breakfast, you move into the living room for the discussion.
 
Who wants to repeat themselves a bunch of times to be listened to? Who wants to repeat themselves a bunch of times to be listened to? Not me, boss.
Is what you have to say important? If so, deliver it in kid-smart fashion.

Years ago I was recovering from a mighty mediocre presentation I had given a few weeks before when a friend called me up and asked if I could do a short presentation for her women’s group. I was a little ill at ease because (1) I had recently given a kinda crappy presentation (i.e. poorly prepared) and (2) I knew every woman in this group. However, with her mildly desperate pleading, I agreed. As I knew all the ladies in this group, I also knew that they were relatively young, and highly capable mothers. So I did a presentation on How To Keep From Losing Your Mind In The Dreaded Cereal Section With Your Young Children. It was enthusiastically received. THIRTY years later (!), the same friend announced to a group at a party that I had saved her sanity so many years before by a piece of advice that helped her stay calmer and more in control with her kids! So, years later I share it with y’all…..
 
I learned this while working at an extremely rural residential treatment center for abused and neglected kids. My group averaged in age and/or maturity about thirteen years old. Nine boys. They were poorly raised, at best. Most were pretty untrained humans. If I cut loose my little animal farm in, let’s say in a Safeway, there would be many errors made. Many. So I learned, in the raw jungle of survival, how to increase the odds of proper behavior.
 
Any activity we embarked upon, we would have a brief meeting about my expectations. Not just what they couldn’t do, but what they could as well. Later, I refined my “expectation meeting” to my children. It really worked well. Actually, it became essential. I shall enumerate:

• Get out of the car and have a quick meeting. Keep it short and reasonable for the age.

For example, one might say: “Kids, here’s the deal. You do not have to stay beside me [it was a small store]. However, as you know, there is no running down the aisles because you might run into someone. If you run, you will stay right beside me. Also, it is Sarah’s turn to pick out the cereal. It’s ok to make a request to her, but no fussing regardless of what she chooses. And remember, no grief at the checkout when you look at all the candy they put there to drive kids (and parents) crazy. You can look over all of it and think about which candy you would choose when we get it next time, as long as y’all do well in the store.”

• STOP. No more rules. Keep it simple.

 

• In quickly dissecting the example you can see that: *if you have a short, little dramatic meeting, *anticipate what the kids may do, and *minimize the rules and remind them what they can’t and can do, you have set the rules of the game before it is played. You have now seriously reduced the numbers of unacceptable behaviors.

 

• Also know that you will occasionally have to prove you meant what you said. A spazz attack in the cereal aisle might result in no kid-choice cereal that shop. Occasionally, we have to suffer a little to teach the (hopefully rare) accountability. You likely will not have to do this often.

 
This strategy is very successful not only because you are instructing the kids what they can and can’t do (set the rules of the game before the game is played), but equally important, you are predicting what they may do. This almost always results in calmer, more logical parenting.

HeyJohn,
I am a 39 year old woman with problems. I have two children, a boy 13 and my daughter 16. Even though I am still married to their father, he has spent the last three years in jail. Before he got locked up, he kept a job most of the time. Even with two people working, we could never get ahead. We both liked to party once in a while, but then he started to party with his “homies” as he liked to call them, and leave me at home. He used up all the money he was making (and mine)  for meth. Now I am extremely broke, and I recently caught my 16 year old daughter with weed. She is starting to get extra disrespectful to me, and her brother is learning from her. To make matters worse, my husband is writing me every week telling me he wants to get back together with me when he gets out in two years, and I’m thinking about it. I don’t know what to do. I don’t have any insurance, so I can’t go to a counselor. Writing you is the best I can do. Help.
Going Bonkers
 
Dear Bonk,
Let’s get right into problem solving, shall we?
First, you need to know for certain: if we don’t do anything different, nothing changes. Thus, if you are too beaten down to do anything different, you are looking at your permanently miserable future. A majority of families I work with have one person who is a stronger or more consistent disciplinarian than the other. That means that the other person may be the, uh, you know: the weaker one. If that’s you, first thing on the agenda is to learn and practice better parenting skills. Even without moola, plenty of communities offer free parenting classes. The trick is doing stuff we are uncomfortable with. And practicing. This forum does not lend itself to enumerating the skills to be a better parent, but, at the risk of self promotion, I have a few essays for you to consider.
 
http://www.johnsommercounseling.com/blog/why-punish-our-kids
http://www.johnsommercounseling.com/blog/issues-with-your-kids-use-some-martial-arts-on-em
http://www.johnsommercounseling.com/blog/which-male-should-i-choose
 
Secondly, when Tweaky-boy gets out of the slammer, I suggest you consider telling him he needs to have a job, his own place and two years of being straight in order for y’all to resume your relationship. In doing this you increase his motivation to stay clean and you get to provide a superior female role model for your children to want to grow up to be like. Or do nothing and seriously increase the odds both of your children will grow up to have as miserable of an existence as you have. Work hard Mom, I have seen miraculous changes take place.

My sister and I are in a disagreement about how we discipline our kids. I am not cruel to my kids, but I am strict. My wife is a little easier with the kids then I am, but she’s not a wimp. My sister used to like to do those silly “time outs” for a couple of minutes. Now that her kids are older, she might send them to their room, kill a weekend privilege, or sometimes just talk to them. We are not spankers, but if our kids screw up, they’ll know they’ve been punished. You seem to write a lot on your web site about parenting, so I thought I would get your opinion.

 
Actually, I have a lot to say about parenting and discipline.  As I began my career working at a residential treatment center for abused and neglected children, I will skip the torture thing and go right into the more typical punishments. This is fresh on my mind as I recently had a teenage boy who got caught stealing a big ‘ol iPhone 7. In addition to his school punishment, his parents added their own to the mix. Upon his return from school, he must sit at the kitchen table and, well, sit. After supper he continues to sit. Another problem is: there is no limit to this punishment. He is on his second month. When I asked him what he must do in order to get off, he had no idea.
 
On the other end of the scale, a kid’s mother knew he was a bike thief from hell. The bicycle shop owner, a grizzled ex-biker, took the kid’s bike from him and told him to have his mother come down to the shop to talk to him about the bike. She came down the next day with a loaded .357, cocked it, pointed at his eye and took her son’s stolen bike back.
 
Another teen got into a fight and knocked the dog out of the other kid, necessitating an ER visit at the local hospital. Along with legal consequences and restitution, his permanently pissed off father “grounded” him. This grounding included taking his son’s bedroom door off its hinges, forbidding him to work on getting his driver’s license, and virtually not speaking to him….. FOR TWO YEARS!
 
So, what is the reason for punishing our kids? Most parents would agree it is to teach them they better not do that stupid shit again. So how much of our disgust, anger, embarrassment and disappointment do we factor into our punishments? If we are doing it right, the answer is: not much. We have to use our brains, not our anger to teach our kids.
 
In my many years as a counselor and as a parent, and there are very few idiot behaviors from kids that I have not seen. Thus I suggest that parents consider the following:

1. Keep punishments short term. This usually means days or a week (or two if you must). There’s always room to add on if junior is still acting the fool.

2. Give the kid a workable way to get off of grounding. Also: see above.

3. Try to tie the punishments to the offense. In the first example of sticky fingered cell phone boy, you could find out what a used phone would cost (about $350), and have him do that much extra labor around the house and yard. At minimum wage, that’s a bunch of work. Keep track of the hours. Make a time sheet. You don’t have to pay him, but show him how hard it is to buy what he ripped off.
 
4. DO NOT punish your kid out of anger. I mean, maybe it’s great therapy for the angry parent to enjoy continuously punish their kid, but it’s massively inappropriate to enjoy hammerin’ your kid because you’re still pissed off.

5. Don’t be too “proud” to ask for an opinion from someone who may have some extra ideas. I’m a little sadly lame at building stuff, so I asked my friend for his ideas for a sturdy gate for my office. With his good ideas (and help), I’ve got it up. Getting ideas doesn’t mean obeying; it just means getting extra ideas.
 
Being a good disciplinarian doesn’t just mean being tough, it means teaching your kid right from wrong. Do it like a good mother or father.

Here it is: The Fourth of July. I know I take the risk of alienating a few patriotic friends in saying this, but I’ve never been exactly “proud” to be an American. I know how blessed my life is living here, but being proud is associated with some kind of fine accomplishment, and I did nothing to be an American other than having the great fortune to have been born here. But then I met the Russian cab driver.
 
Denise and I were celebrating our 45th Wedding Anniversary by going to Manhattan for the first time as a married couple. The amazing adventure is another story in itself. With all the “cab” rides we took, we engaged most of our drivers in conversation. Every one of them came from foreign countries. One fella, Ivan was really interesting; married with two pre-teen daughters and a wife who worked for a dermatologist. Now, this story is only properly significant if you can mentally put a strong Russian accent on him.
I asked him where in Russia he was from and he said [remember the cool accent please], “The mountains of Russia. Do you know where Ural Mountains are?” When we told him we did, he was very pleased. “My mother and father still live there. I want my mother to come visit me but she is frightened of airplanes. My father was here last year. We had a nice time. When I spoke to my mother a few nights ago to ask her to come and visit, she was crying. So I will go back to see her.” When I commented about his very good English he said, “I took classes when I came six years ago and I like to talk with customers to help with my English. My friend lives in Russian area in Brooklyn. You know, in Brooklyn, people have areas of their own people. There are Jews, Italians, Chinese, many people. My friend only talks with Russians. After six years, all he can say in English is ‘ay-low’. I tell him he is stoopid. He must learn how talk and how to live here. You know, this is my country. I must get better and better.”
 
I was stunned. I quickly realized I have never heard anyone say that before: “This is my country”. Suddenly I thought how amazing is it that we are many people’s lifelong dream to come to America? I was flooded with my first rush of pride that I am in the most desirable country in the world.  I know, of course we have plenty to work and improve upon. I know we are far from perfect. Nevertheless, to say with pride and deep affection, “This is my country” is profound, and we are blessed.

“Trauma” is an event or events that puts us through physical or mental hell. The list is endless: child abuse, physical and/or sexual, loss of someone we loved, life threatening occurrences to name just a few. There are many therapies applied to help  people recover from traumatic times. One more recent (and still strongly debated) therapy is the relatively new “Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing” therapy (EMDR). The VA is running with it for the time being to see if it is helpful for returning soldiers with PTSD. With numerous therapies available to help folks suffering from traumatic issues, it is with a little reservation that I offer information that is somewhat generic. However, if I had not found it helpful in the past, it would not be worth noting.
 
The most commonly occurring trauma I have dealt with in my 32 years of private practice is physical and sexual abuse. A teen comes in and shares that he had been molested by a neighborhood boy for a number of years. A grown man is barely in control as he shares that he recently discovered that his son had been molested by his grandmother. Another man told of his step father “beating the shit out of me” for years, while his mother made excuses for her husband’s behavior. A woman was virtually held captive by her cruel husband in the most remote area of Utah for years. The list goes on and on and on. Although the steps to take to help the healing process differ from person to person, there is a couple of common threads.
 
Abuse is the hurt that just keeps on hurtin’. The father with the abused daughter may find himself running grotesque mental videos through his head. He will most certainly feel like he didn’t protect his daughter well enough. So how does one begin to heal from something they cannot control? As an overly simplistic image, we can look at our lives as a big see-saw. All this horrible crap is placed on one side, throwing off the balance in favor of the trauma. Most people seek relief from therapy by hoping they can reduce the weight of all the negativity. Logically though, other than amnesia, these are your memories. So the way of counter-balancing the trauma is to begin to add “weight” onto the other side. As we strive to improve our lives, we add weight to the “good” side of the see-saw. What is it that a person needs to improve their lives? Work diligently at making our marriage a powerful one? Vigorously seeking ideas to become not a good, but a remarkable parent? Consistently working at improving one’s health through new found nutrition and/or physical improvements? Seeking a new and enlightening spiritual or religious awakening? Dedicating ourselves to be in the service of others?
 
In other words, we break the bondage of mental of physical negativity by concentrating on improving ourselves. It is not so difficult to begin, but the effort to stay focused on the long term effort to improve our existence is demanding. However, what is more exhausting: working diligently and consistently to improve ourselves, or to quietly rage at the stupidity or cruelty of some massively screwed up person who impacted our lives? Hey, they did bad stuff before, I’ll be damned if I’m going to allow them to continue their shitty behavior year after year in my head.