The only thing that seems to fluctuate faster than the stock market is one’s ratings as a mother. It seems that the qualifications of motherhood cover a very wide range. In fact, that range includes everything, leaving me and fellow mothers to being rated on multiple levels. Here is an exhausting though not exhaustive glimpse at some of the categories on which one’s success in motherhood hinges: intelligence, fashion, cooking, carpool, candy, and yes, even the frequency with which one requires her children to shower.

This all came to my attention many years ago when visiting with a friend. Without warning, her sweet toddler’s delight at receiving a delicious brownie turned into anger when her mother refused to allow her to grind it into the carpet. In response to this absurd limitation that was being imposed, the little girl pushed away her mother’s hand and exclaimed in anger, “No like you!” Believe it or not, my friend was thrilled. She and I had just had the honor of hearing her daughter’s first complete sentence. Without a moment’s hesitation, my friend called her husband, who quickly called his parents, who immediately called every person they knew in Brooklyn. In addition to witnessing someone celebrating a developmental milestone with an entire borough of New York, it was also my first inkling that the fluctuation in “motherhood ratings” might eventually put the Dow Jones Industrial Average to shame.

Once again, I learned something from my children. I learned that change is good. I’m not talking about change as in trying something new, such as going on an upside-down roller coaster, eating gluten-free cookies, or, even worse, self-improvement. I’m talking about real, no-nonsense change. You know, like nickels, dimes, quarters, and even those pesky pennies. You see, it all started about a year ago when one of my children asked if they could keep the loose change from a purchase. Not really thinking too much about it, I said yes. This quest for change morphed into other seemingly benign appeals, like asking for the quarter that was lying on the floor of the car or keeping the change that fell out of someone’s pocket and remained on the floor for more than a nanosecond. Little by little, it turned into an inside joke. The phrase “Got Change?” became a family motto and was rewarded with a small donation each time it was uttered.

The effect of positive reinforcement cannot be underestimated. Many a parent anxiously scans the comments box on their child’s report card, hoping (sometimes praying!) for a positive comment. Fortunately, creative measures are usually taken to write something positive, even for a child who exhibits negative behavior in the classroom, like driving the teacher crazy. For example, the teacher might write, “Shimon is an energetic child. His enthusiasm for learning rubs off on those around him. He inspires the class to participate in activities that go beyond the curriculum.” (Feel free to read between the lines.) But regardless of how a person behaves, the acknowledgement of achievement and growth serves as a catalyst to strive for more.

The rabbanim teach us that it is important to do hachanos (preparations) before undertaking a mitzva. Last year, as Pesach approached, I was reluctant to admit that, in addition to all the rooms in my house, there were many areas of my life that could also benefit from my attention. I figured I could surely combine it with the chametz-free theme of Pesach and cleanse myself of both physical and spiritual demons. Dramatic? Yes. Inspiring? Apparently, not so much.

As I scoured the oven and scrubbed the floors, I decided that my first personal goal would be to lose the five pounds that I had gained during the previous Yom Tov. After a few days, I assessed the situation and saw that things were progressing nicely. Not only was I getting extra exercise while ridding my home of chametz but the weight loss was also going well since there wasn’t a thing in my house that I could eat.

It seems there are two groups of people in this world: those who are easily insulted and those who are not. Personally, I feel that I fall into the latter group, so I’ve decided to work on this. Having little prior experience in this area made me realize that I have to tread carefully so as not to destroy any friendships or relationships, at least not yet. This is why, instead of focusing on people I meet, I decided to focus on the voices I hear. Shall I explain?

If you’ve ever called a business, school, or doctor’s office, you are often greeted with the following message, “Hi, you’ve reached ___. Please listen carefully because our menu options have recently changed. If you are trying to reach ___, please press 1, etc., etc., etc.” Now, here is where the situation gets murky for someone like me: Is this a compliment or an insult? After all, if she (and it’s usually a she) is telling me to listen carefully, she’s assuming that I am smart enough to have memorized the previous options. I mean, why else would I have to listen carefully? On the other hand, this could be perceived as an insult, because let’s face it, does she think I didn’t notice that this is the same message that’s been playing for the past five years? The menu options have not changed recently, and quite frankly, I’m tired of having to hear about it every time I call. However, I figured that before I made my decision about whether or not to be insulted, I would give the company the benefit of the doubt. So I continued with my call and listened for the option that would allow me to speak to a customer representative. Well, apparently they weren’t lying when then said I should listen carefully. After following the directions and pressing a never-ending sequence of numbers, I was finally booted out of the system with a message saying, “We are unable to process your request. Please call back when you are able to listen carefully.” I think – I could be wrong – that this was an insult.

With mazel tovs abounding, the birth of a child is accompanied by a wide-range of emotions and expectations. If the child is a boy, the hopes that he might one day become a talmid chacham begin to form. That this adorable baby boy could one day be a light unto his nation is an aspiration that many parents secretly harbor. It seems that the only person who is not on board with these grandiose plans is the little boy himself. This lack of shared vision generally comes to light around the time when your three-year-old triumphantly announces his professional goal: to become a garbage man.

Once you get over the shock, you realize that it’s probably better, at least for now, if you jump on the bandwagon, (or, in this case, the back of the truck). Let’s face it, for a three-year-old, there is a lot more excitement associated with being a sanitation engineer than with the aforementioned “vision.” Being a garbage man tugs at his little heartstrings and sings to his soul on many levels.