Let Me Tell You Something Page 9

  Our kids watched Bambi and every single Disney movie ever made—and when there was a sad part we talked about it. It’s crazy to me when parents won’t let their kids watch this classic movie. I truly believe they’re robbing them of an experience that is an integral part of modern childhood. It’s not a violent bloody portrayal—it’s a sad fact of life, beautifully handled. My kids understood that sometimes sad things happen in life, but life goes on and what matters most is how you handle those unfortunate situations.

  From a young age our kids were exposed to many of the harsher realities in life, including the concept of being homeless. On the morning of December 26 each year, we asked the kids to go through their room and pull out anything they didn’t want anymore, from clothes to toys to books. They gave me their goods and we’d put their castoffs on a table at The Brownstone during the charity lunch later that day. The homeless kids would throw themselves at the table. They’d be so excited to get something that my kids had thrown away. We’d make them see that something that they had discarded was making another child so happy, that was the lesson we wanted them to learn. We pushed our kids to go and introduce themselves to these kids, to talk to them and learn about them. Through this tradition our children learned that there were those out there who were less fortunate than us, their home life wasn’t as comfortable, and they struggled more than we did.

  As much as we were open with the kids, there were things that we never talked about with them. It’s never appropriate to talk about your private life with your kids. And they should never be exposed to things that are too emotionally complex for them, like sexual issues or trouble between their parents. They don’t need to know that their aunt is having an affair or that their uncle can’t make his rent this month.

  We never let them sit at a table of adults and join adult conversation. We tried to always be real with them, but we also wanted their childhoods to last as long as possible.

  I’ve received a lot of criticism for my take on parenting over the years. Some might say I’m too tough, or even that I’m a bitch. I just think I’m smart enough to realize that I’m not going to live forever and my kids need to be able to live without me.

  Trust me, the longer you shield them, the worse it’s gonna be.

  I’m your mother, not your friend.

  Fans of the show are always telling me how much they love the relationship I have with my kids. “I wish I was friends with my kids the way you are with yours,” they say. But I always stop them right there and correct them. I’m not friends with my kids. I’m their mom. There’s a difference, and understanding that boundary is essential to good parenting.

  You’re not pals with your kids. You don’t hang out and gossip with them. You don’t want to be cool like them or fit right in with their friends. You’re their parent; don’t try to be their friend. I love my parents. I’m over fifty years old and they’re both still with me, and I’m blessed to have them around. But even as an adult, with grown children of my own, I do not consider my parents to be my friends. They’re still my parents, and what I get from that relationship is better than any friendship in the world.

  I’ve seen situations where a parent’s desire to be friends with their kid ends up creating a power structure where the child has the upper hand. Once this happens, all bets are off. Never let the tail wag the dog.

  Viewers of the show will recognize this from the battle that Jacqueline had with her daughter. I do agree that it’s harder for parents going through a divorce to not let the child cross into friend territory. Many single parents work too hard to have a social life, and the child becomes their world. But a time comes when a parent has to be a parent, and as we’ve seen time and time again, this is a tough road to get back to once you’ve crossed into friend category. It can be heartbreaking to have to start from scratch to rebuild those boundaries.

  Ask Caroline

  Dear Caroline: I want to build a relationship with my daughter based on trust. Where do you draw the line between being too friendly with your children, yet encouraging them to come to you when they need to?

  Trust is an integral part of any relationship, but you have to remember this is a relationship between a parent and a child: you are responsible for their safety and welfare until they are out on their own. There must be rules and boundaries that are respected by your child.

  I think a lot of parents put too much emphasis on the word “friend”; how about we say “relationship” instead? It’s simple: if you want a strong relationship, you have open communication, you talk to your child, listen when they speak, ask them questions, become engaged in true conversation. Tell them “I love you” every single day. Spend time with them doing simple things like cooking a meal together or going to the movies. During those moments tell them stories about your life and see if it relates to theirs in some way, for example, “when my first boyfriend broke up with me I was devastated.” By doing this you are creating a bond that is built on communication.

  It’s during these times that you can speak to them with truth and make them understand that you were young once too; you will understand that they will want to try things, and that some decisions they make may be foolish ones. Most important, you must stress that there is nothing that they can’t come and discuss with you. They have to know that your love is unconditional.

  If you’re looking for the key to building the perfect parent/child relationship, just observe the way your kids are with their grandparents. Nobody expects their grandparents to be their friends, there’s already a built-in respect for that relationship. Gradually transfer that relationship to the way your kids deal with you. The boundaries are basically the same. When your kids are grown, they’ll be grateful that you are their parent and not their friend. Friends come and go, but your parents are yours in a way that can’t be replicated in your life. It’s the best relationship in the world.

  I raised kids, not monsters.

  There’s no such thing as a kid who was born bad. To make a rotten kid, it takes a rotten parent. If you see a kid melting down at the mall, look at how the parent is reacting. Kids copy their parents. If that kid is a brat, you can bet the parent is just as much of a brat, if not worse.

  How to argue

  When you’re trying to reason with your child, sometimes it’s not just what you say, but how you say it.

  The more you scream, the easier it is for the kid to block you out. It’s white noise to them, even though it’s exhausting for you. They can outlast you. The secret is to always talk to them calmly. We didn’t raise our voices at our kids, and we never called them names when we were angry with them. I didn’t want them thinking it was OK for them to talk to others like that.

  As tough as we were as parents, we never let our kids go to bed thinking that we were angry at them. No matter what they did, we would go into their room at bedtime and tell them that we loved them and that we hoped they understood why they were in trouble.

  Chris: in his own words

  I was probably the worst behaved of the three kids in my family, and as a result, I got punished the most. I truly believed I was invincible when I was little, in some ways I still do. I was always up for anything, and I was never as good at covering my tracks as I thought I was.

  My parents used the threat of punishment way more than they used actual punishment. The key was that all three of us knew that if we pushed it too far, the threat would become a reality. That’s what made it work.

  I pushed the envelope pretty hard when I was a kid, but because of my parents’ discipline, I always expected my actions to have consequences. I never knew how severe they would be, but I was always aware that if I was doing something wrong, I’d pay for it later.

  They’d threaten to beat the shit out of us, when we were really bad, but they never did it. The threat was that they might. That’s why whenever Mom said I was going to The Brownstone, I knew I’d gone too far, and I knew I was in for it. The drive to The Brownstone was like the Gree
n Mile for me. It was awful.

  Getting punished at The Brownstone was the absolute worst thing that could happen to you. Just being yelled at by my dad is scary enough. But it was humiliating for that to happen at his place of work in front of everyone else.

  That time I got stranded at the Meadowlands, it made perfect sense to me to do what I did. My gym teacher at the time hated me. He told my friend and I that we couldn’t go to the ball game with everyone else. This only made me completely determined that we had to be at that game.

  I knew we’d get in trouble for it, but I needed this teacher to know that we beat him. So we got tickets, we got a ride to the game, and I figured that the teacher would have to let us on the bus to get home. I was wrong.

  I made up a whole bullshit story about it, and it didn’t work. My mom knew it wasn’t true, and that was it. Lying and getting caught always made the punishment worse.

  The funny thing was always that my dad hated disciplining us, but he knew he had to do it. I don’t even know if my mom knows, but Dad would always say, “I hate having to do this to you guys, but it has to happen.” He would say that Mom was flipping out and he had to discipline us, even though he would have done the same thing at our age.

  I grew up in an area with a lot of old money. A lot of my friends’ parents never disciplined or screamed at their kids. A lot of my friends were huge punks, they were really out of control, and they never got in trouble for it. I look back now at people like that, and I look at all the opportunities that they’ve wasted. They were all handed jobs as assistants that paid $80,000 a year right out of high school while I was paid ten cents a bottle to polish bottles at The Brownstone.

  Those kids dropped out of college after four months and didn’t get in any trouble for it. Those kids with no fear of discipline really never found their way, and they never ended up respecting anyone. I can name fifteen kids who came from that background who have been to rehab or jail. That’s what makes my life different. We’re not the best kids in the world, but we’ve never done drugs or gotten into serious trouble.

  I always remember than whenever my dad did have to punish us, he’d always hug us afterward and say, “I love you, I’m sorry I had to do that but one day you’ll understand.”

  As I get older, I’m starting to understand. And, when I’m a parent, and I care for my kids as much as my parents cared for me, I’ll understand completely.

  From the time your child hits the terrible twos, you have to be the boss. Kids will start testing you, and it’s up to you to stand firm and let them know what behavior is acceptable and what isn’t. It’s also up to you to set a good example. I always wanted my kids to be welcomed at my friends’ houses, to make a good impression. They knew that when we went visiting, they needed to be polite, they needed to be well behaved, and they needed to be quiet. I was raised that way and I was damn sure my kids were going to be raised the same way.

  The place I see some of the worst behavior from children is at The Brownstone. Parents start drinking and acting reckless, and guess what, the kids follow suit. The parents stop watching their kids, and the kids go crazy, spilling food, breaking things, racing into other rooms and upsetting other patrons. I am shocked by how careless some parents are. If your kids don’t know how to behave at a public event, you shouldn’t be bringing them to one. I was always horrified by the thought of someone looking at my kids and saying, “Look at those little beasts!”

  BEHIND THE SCENES

  People always ask if our visits to restaurants on the show are spontaneous or set up in advance, and the answer is, yes, they’re prearranged. To shoot at almost any location, you need signed contracts and insurance—we even have agreements so we can shoot in our own homes! The producers have to work with the restaurants to make sure that we are legally able to shoot there. However, even though the owners know we’re coming, the patrons usually don’t, so sometimes you can see people staring or freaking out or texting their friends in the background. It’s hilarious.

  With grandmotherhood (hopefully) just around the corner, I know my grandkids are going to be angels too, because they’re going to have my kids for parents, and Grandma and Grandpa are going to be watching from the wings.

  I’d rather you said fuck

  than did heroin.

  There’s a correct way to speak your mind. Be yourself in your own home. But be polite and respectful. And I’ve taught my kids the difference. As a parent, you have to pick your battles, and swearing is really not a big deal. As long as it never happens in front of Grandma!

  To ground or not to ground

  In my opinion grounding is lazy parenting. It doesn’t do anything in terms of teaching a kid a lesson. Any kid can fake good behavior for a week. I used to confiscate things from the kids. If they were naughty, I’d take their Nintendo, their cell phone, whatever they were into at the time. I never hid the thing I confiscated. I’d set it right in the middle of the kitchen table! We’d eat dinner with a damn Nintendo on the table, just to needle them. During dinner, I’d ask Albie why his Nintendo was on the table. I’d bring it up all the time. It was hard to keep a straight face, but it’s a really effective punishment!

  I never gave the thing back until I was certain that the kid had learned from his or her mistake. Sometimes I’d keep the thing on the table for a week, sometimes it would sit there for a month. Sometimes, Al would get the Nintendo and play with it in front of the kids, and then put it back on the table. We messed with them, but they learned what it cost them to screw up. It’s not easy, but it’s effective, and after a while, you’ll notice that your kids are behaving a lot better.

  I see it like this. Sure my kids my say fuck every now and then, but they’re good kids, who work hard and stay away from trouble. Wouldn’t you rather that, than a kid who has the cleanest mouth in the world but is hiding a drug problem from you?

  Kids need to know that it’s wrong to say “where’s my fuckin’ dinner?” or “get the fuck outta here” but it’s fine to say, “Oh, Ma, the craziest fuckin’ thing happened today.” It’s fine, it has to be, I swear like a fuckin’ truck driver, but I can still be a lady in a business meeting.

  From when the kids were two years old, we told them to shake hands and look people in the eye when they did. People thought it was cute. They were taught to always say please and thank you, and they still use good manners now. Manners cannot be overrated. Being polite is everything—and this applies to swearing, and learning who you can swear in front of, and when.

  My kids had to call everybody mister or missus, never could they call an adult by their first name. That still drives me insane. Your kid can call me Mrs. Manzo until I tell them it’s OK to call me Caroline. Same goes with swearing. I’ll let your kid know when it’s OK to drop an f-bomb.

  There should be nothing a kid can’t tell a parent. If you start breaking a kid because of some of the words they use when they tell you, you’re building a wall in your communications that will only get higher and thicker as the kid gets older.

  It kills me that a lot of the kids I’ve met through my own children did not have an open dialogue with their parents, unlike what I shared with my own children. I met kids who told their parents absolutely nothing about their lives, because they were too afraid of their parents’ harsh judgment. I was the person they came to with their problems.

  Lauren had girlfriends who had problems; they were sexually active and some of them had issues at home. She would tell me that she was going to accompany her friends on doctor visits when they got into trouble. I’d feel awful for her friends, but I’d also be so proud of Lauren for standing by her friends.

  My message to those poor kids was always the same. A kid should be able to speak freely in her own home. We told our kids, even if you go out and commit a murder, tell us. No matter what was going on in their lives, we were there to listen. To care. To help. Let your kids tell you about anything at all, let them feel comfortable that you will accept them for who they are
and not pick apart every word they say—and learn to listen, and think, before you react. Let them say fuck—and maybe you’ll help them stay away from the heroin.

  Drugs may kill you, but your

  father will kill you first.

  My kids have never experimented with drugs. We scared them straight from very early on. Even though I had kids very young, by that time in my life I had already seen the destruction that pot, coke, and heroin can bring into a family. We had friends and family members with substance problems, and we decided to never hide it from the kids.

  One time, when Albie was eight, Lauren was six, and Chris was five, Al lined them all up and said, “If you try drugs, I will kill you. If you put your mother through the pain of dealing with an addict, I will kill you. You do not have a single chance.”

  I used to show the kids videos of people strung-out and high. When the kids were little we’d drive through the bad parts of Paterson. I’d show them the junkies living on the street and say “This is what drugs do to your life, this is what not working does to your life.” And then later when we were at The Brownstone I’d tell them, “This is hard work, this is what Daddy does so you can have a nice life. He works hard. He works long hours. So you can have all the things you have.”

  The kids knew that drugs weren’t recreational. I wanted them to know that using any chemicals at all robbed you of your life, your judgment, and your family.

  I have been around drugs my whole life, and they have never interested me. All of my friends smoked pot, from as young as when I was in grammar school. They’d offer it to me, and I’d decline. I didn’t care that they were doing it, I just knew it wasn’t for me. And I look back on those days and they seem so innocent now—a bit of pot here and there. These days kids are exposed to so much more, and so much worse.