The Kid Tamer

Ernest was easy. Whatever. And so, less than a month later, they found themselves in Lisa's office.

"We can all improve our parenting," Lisa tells the Dixons during the first meeting. When Lisa reveals that she served in the Navy for 20 years before retiring and becoming a family coach, the pieces fall into place: Like all good military officers, she has been steeped in a culture of systems and processes -- sure that the keys to success are identifiable, quantifiable and transferable. Never a scold, Lisa maps out the parameters of good parenting with neighborly parables, cautionary tales (in which her own daughter, Joanna, surfaces with Zelig-like frequency) and plenty of positive reinforcement. She draws on the master's degree she has in management, the classes she has taken that certify her as an associate coach by the International Coach Federation and her own common sense to solve problems for her clients.

After Sheila tells Lisa that the opening of the new pharmacy is imminent, Lisa asks how that will affect the children. "We may be tired or exhausted, but it doesn't matter, if our kids don't suffer," Sheila says. "And we're doing this for them. This is their legacy."

Lisa commends Sheila on her dedication to family. "One of the most important things is for kids to have their parents there -- whether it is at a soccer game or a parent-teacher conference," she reminds Sheila. Her advice is light on evidence and heavy on anecdote. She volunteers: "I haven't missed a single one of my daughter's regattas in four years."

Sheila agrees in concept. Making sacrifices to be present is "huge," she says. "Whereas, when we both had careers, when I worked in corporate America -- well, that would have been too hard." She started her own Internet-based company "to make sure my work is in alignment with my children's growth."

But Lisa's practical yardstick for measuring the quality of one's mothering -- have you attended every one of your child's sports events? -- stokes Sheila's anxiety. Sheila still feels bad months after she missed one of Dorion's soccer games when a workshop she was conducting at her church ran long. And Damon milks such lapses: "Remember that time I almost died at soccer practice and you weren't there?" he asked on the way back from the mall one day, three years after the incident. (In fact, he got winded and couldn't catch his breath but was fine soon after.) "I remember," she told him, listening patiently and apologetically.

Lisa outlines the Dixons' "homework" for the week. Sheila and Ernest are to read the first chapter of Sterling's book and reflect on it. The book urges them to try to empathize with their children. "We must appreciate their unique points of view no matter how fragile or bold, tentative or insistent they (or we) may be," the author writes. "And we must acknowledge their ideas no matter how tired, frustrated or overwhelmed we may feel at the time. These are the tasks of the parent-coach."

Lisa asks them to add a color-coded "family calendar" to the Outlook calendar that Sheila already keeps, with each family member's activities in a different color. Post it in the kitchen for everyone to see, Lisa suggests. Then, because Sheila and Ernest have never tied their business plans to family life -- nor to each others' business plans -- Lisa tells them they really need to sit down and look at their respective schedules side-by-side. She assures them this will provide a measure of control over the hectic pace of their lives.

Sheila tells Lisa that her main goal for the family coaching sessions is to shift some of the household work to the older boys -- so that they learn responsibility and so that the tasks of family life don't weigh Sheila down after the new pharmacy opens.

"Tell me about your kids," Lisa says.

"The older one is very responsible," Sheila says. "The middle one, he is my free spirit." Sheila tracks the dynamics between the two boys. Damon is a perfectionist who is always on top of the details. Dorion can barely keep track of the paraphernalia of his life -- can't remember where he left his bike, his homework, his shoes. Sometimes Damon speaks for Dorion, who is beginning to chafe at this. Then again, Dorion can be so disorganized, it's hard not to jump in and manage him. "Every day, it's like: 'Dorion, did you brush your teeth? Did you do your homework? Did you make your bed?' " And this is as he is running out the door to the school bus, wearing two different colored socks, Sheila laughs.

"So, let's see if I can word this correctly," says Lisa. "Dorion is pushing his boundaries a little bit. So if he doesn't make his bed, what kind of problem is it?"