Category Archives: parenting

Your kids are communicating with you, not manipulating you

“Kids always know how to manipulate their parents.”

I heard someone say that just a couple of days ago.  The topic of conversation was tantrums, and it was one that was going on right beside me, but one that I wasn’t a part of.  The general gist was this:  Kids have tantrums to play their parents.

I disagree.

I see a tantrum and I see a child trying to communicate.  (By the way, I really don’t like the word “tantrum” but I use it for the sake of this post because it’s a common and fairly universal term.  We can all hear the word tantrum and envision essentially the same thing.)

We just spent three weeks driving across the country and spending time around a lot of different people.  I witnessed many tantrums, by children and adults alike.  The difference is, the adults weren’t put into timeout, or held against their will, or punished, or ignored. With other adults, we generally take it for what it is: an expressed moment of frustration. One would hope that adults could always communicate their feelings kindly and patiently, without resorting to what we’d classify as a tantrum. But the fact is, we’re human. We get stressed, frustrated, angry, and disappointed. Sometimes the heat of the moment gets the better of us. Sometimes we whine. Sometimes we yell. Sometimes we stomp and we huff and we skulk about. Yes, sometimes we’re the adult counterpart of the disappointed and crying toddler who was just told that she couldn’t get the doll she wanted in the toy store. Do we know that there are probably more effective ways of dealing with our emotions? Of course! But we’re human.

So sometimes, despite our best intentions, we have tantrums. Sometimes it’s just plain hard not to. How much harder it must be then for a 3 or a 5 or a 7 year old?  For a child who doesn’t have our life experience, or maturity, or language skills? For a child who for some reason is not only expected to behave as well as a grownup, but somehow behave BETTER than a grownup?

Conventional parenting advice would have us believe that children should essentially be seen but not heard.  They should be quiet and docile, obedient and submissive at all times.  If they happen to have a strong emotion, they should suppress it, or at the very least express it only in a way that is convenient and comfortable and pleasing to us as their parents.  They should be less than human.

We hear things like how we need to stop it immediately, to “nip it in the bud” so it doesn’t become a bigger problem later on.  To ignore it, and to ignore the child.  We’re told we must never give in.  They’re trying to manipulate us!   They’re playing us!  We must stop it!

I’d like to suggest something else entirely.

A tantrum is a way of communicating.  It’s an expression of an emotion, a feeling, or a need.  Your in-the-throes-of-a-tantrum child is not trying to manipulate you.  He is trying to tell you something.  And based on the deliverance, it’s most likely something pretty darn important!  When an infant is crying because he has a soiled diaper, we recognize that it is legitimate need, and we attend to it.  When an adult friend is crying because she’s had a bitter argument with a family member, we understand that she’s having a hard time, and we listen.  Why then, should it be any different for all the ages in between?  Discomfort, sadness, frustration, disappointment, anger…. these are normal, universal, human emotions.   A child having a tantrum may be communicating any or all of the above, and she deserves to be heard.  Many tantrums’ root cause is something even more basic:  for example hunger, fatigue, or over-stimulation.  Not only does hushing or punishing or ignoring do nothing to address the problem, but it also takes you further from a mutually respectful, and highly connected relationship… one in which no one feels they need to have a tantrum to get their needs met.

Kids will have tantrums.  Sometimes kids will have lots of tantrums.   And it’s not because they’re “bad”, or “naughty”, or “fresh”, or “playing” us…. but because they’re trying to tell us something.

It’s our job as parents to listen.

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I’d Rather Be With My Kids

Top ten reasons why I’d rather spend time with my kids than with most of the adults I know:

1. They’re cute

I mean, come on. Do any of your adult friends look like this?

2. They appreciate the little things in life

I know very few adults who derive as much – or any – joy from rainbows, mud puddles, or caterpillars.

3. They still know how to play

Not everyone loses this ability as they get older, but so many do! I want to be around people who still see the value in an impromptu game of hide and go seek, or blowing bubbles with a straw, or putting on a Spiderman costume at 2:00 in the afternoon, just because.

4. They’re REAL.

My kids are authentic, always. They don’t play mind games, they don’t act a certain way around certain people, they don’t just tell me what I want to hear. Happy, sad, silly, frustrated…. they are wonderfully unmistakably themselves, and they express it. And as a bonus, I’m more real when I’m around them, too.
 

5. They always give me something new, 

When it comes to a life with kids, it’s nothing if not full of surprises.  I never know what each day is going to hold, and I love that!



but at the same time,

6. They’re always comfortable and familiar

I know my kids better than I know anyone on the planet.  I’ve been there since their very first breath.  I know every story, I remember ever wound.  They truly are my heart and my soul walking around outside my body.



7. They’re great conversationalists and even better thinkers 

You know how 2 year olds constantly ask “why?”  They’re not doing it to annoy you;  they’re doing it because they’re learning how the world works, and they’re looking to you – their most trusted and loved ally – to help them figure out.  Kids are naturally open and curious and questioning, and they are not held back by the preconceived notions of so many adults.  Some of my very favorite times with my kids are in the car, discussing anything from armpits to snakes to heavy artillery.    Their perspective is always fresh, honest, and enlightening.

8. I enjoy their company

Whether I’m catching an episode of Dr G with the 14 year old, discussing music with the 10 year old, making simulated blood with the 7 year old, or playing dolls with the 3 year old… or doing something more out of the ordinary…  I’m having a good time.  I love my kids – of course – but I like them too.


9. They’re funny

No one makes me laugh harder than my kids.  Period.



10. They teach me more than anyone or anything else combined 

No, not about isosceles triangles, or finding the value of ‘x’, but about LIFE.   They teach me the things that matter.  They teach me about love.  They teach me about living in the moment. About being honest with myself and others.  About not sweating the small stuff.  About being REAL.  My kids teach me everything I need to know about what kind of parent I want to be, and what kind of person I want to be.  

They teach me about smiling

Even when I’m faced with the metaphorical business end of life:

And you just can’t put a price tag on that.


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Cleaning Fail? Parenting Fail? You’re both right.

Not even two weeks ago, I blogged about how much I needed a break. I was exhausted, I was stressed out, and I was panicking about getting read for our upcoming trip. I took exactly two days off from blogging, missed it terribly, and jumped right back in.

Yesterday, I was back in panic mode. We leave for our trip in 12 days, and it still feels like there are mountains to climb before we do. Making matters worse is the fact that I’m the only one who feels that way. Mike simply doesn’t stress out about much of anything, and the kids are just looking forward to a fun vacation (as they should be)

Sunday night was a rough night. I wasn’t feeling well; Everett had a nightmare very early on, and was in our bed the rest of the night; Tegan was tossing and turning and kicking even more than usual; I ended up sleeping in a ball on the end of our bed. The big boys were up past 2:00 (which is not unusual for them) but were woken by Tegan far too early in the morning. Everyone was tired and grumpy, and what I should have done was given us all a free day… a no obligation, lounge around, rest and recoup kind of Monday.

But, oh no. We had 13 days left. We had to CLEAN!

I started with my own desk, and instead of leaving well enough alone, I then decided it was imperative that I tackle the computer room.

This is the ‘after’ picture, but the girl had already dumped something out again.

This room has been a thorn in my side since we moved in to this house nearly 5 years ago. It looked like it was originally a formal dining room (judging partly from the big chandalier that once hung in the middle of the ceiling), but the previous owners didn’t seem to know what to do with it either. When we first toured the house, it was mostly empty, save for a little couch in the corner. For us, it has always served as a computer room slash project room slash collector of random, miscellaneous stuff. It’s always a mess, and yesterday I was going to clean it.

I asked the kids to help me, but they were too tired. (Of course they were too tired; No one got any sleep). I asked them again. Spencer was half asleep on the couch, Paxton was engrossed in a computer game, and Tegan and Everett were chasing each other around the house. No one really answered me.

And again, I should have taken the hint, followed their lead – and my own level of exhaustion – and rested. Instead, as if possessed by some mop-wielding inner demon, I became that mom. The stomping, huffing, sighing, “fine, I’ll do it myself”, martyr of a mom. For the next hour, I was noisily moving chairs and bookshelves, digging stuff out from beneath the desks, flinging sweeping wayward toys and papers and books and tools to the center of the room to sort through. Spencer had fallen asleep by then, Paxton was calmly moving out of my way as I cleaned around him, and the little ones had wisely moved their play to another room, lest they accidentally witness the embarrassment of their mom in the throes of her tantrum.

It really wasn’t my finest moment.

I was tired, I was irritated, and I couldn’t even enjoy the fruits of my labor once I’d finished.  Who can enjoy something they’d done with the wrong attitude in the first place?

I do still want to get the house clean before we go.  But not like that.  Today, I will get a grip and remember what’s important.  I’ll listen to my kids, listen to my own body, and save the cleaning for another dang day if need be.

And if all else fails, I’ll stick to the kitchen side of the house, and avoid the computer room completely. 

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To The Dads

Happy Father’s Day to all of the Fathers out there. To the new fathers, who are getting to experience the sweet, heartbreaking feeling of a sleeping newborn for the first time.

To the experienced fathers, who have been changing diapers, braiding hair and throwing footballs for many years.

To the great fathers.

To the fathers who are doing the best they can.

To the fathers who are vowing every day to do better.

To the fathers who are not fathers through birth or adoption but who have taken on the role for a friend or a relative or simply a child who was in need.

To the single mothers, who through choice or circumstance have acted as mother and father both.

To the fathers whose babies are no longer with them.

And finally, to the fathers at heart, who don’t yet have a child in their arms.

Today, I honor and appreciate all of you.

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Haircuts and Hyprocrisy

I cut the boys’ hair yesterday. They’d been asking for awhile, and for various reasons it kept getting pushed further and further back. Since our vacation is fast approaching, we knew we had to commit to doing it and stick to it. Because I’m a dork – and simple things amuse me – I made this:

and Everett taped it to the wall. He and Paxton both called (from the next room) for their appointments, and Spencer looked at me and said, “Mommy. Can’t you just cut my hair?”

Party pooper 🙂

When I got out the clippers for Everett’s mohawk, Tegan begged me to cut hers too. “Okay, sure,” I told her. “I’ll give you a trim,” even though I knew that a trim wasn’t what she really wanted.

She sat in the chair and I gave the very tips of some of her hair a tiny snip with scissors, and she cried. “No, with the clippers! I want it all cut off!! I want it like Spencer’s!” And it wasn’t the first time she’d asked.

Spencer’s hair post-clipping is even shorter than this:

Then (this is the part where I’m a hypocrite), as much as I believe in giving children choices and autonomy, as much as I respect her right to take ownership of her own hairstyle, as much as I know that in the bigger picture, shaving her head wouldn’t have mattered…

I talked her out of it.

Can you blame me?

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My Promise to My Children

I ignore a lot of traditional parenting adages that come through my Facebook news feed. But every so often, one pops up that I have a hard time ignoring. A few days ago, several friends had posted this as their status:

My promise to my children. I am not your friend. I am your mom. I will stalk you, flip out on you, lecture you, drive you insane, be your worst nightmare & hunt you down like a bloodhound when needed because I LOVE YOU! When you understand that, I will know you are a responsible adult. You will NEVER find someone who loves, prays, cares and worries about you more than I do! Re-post if you are a parent and agree.♥

Really?

I’ve blogged in the past on my thoughts about being both parents and friends with your children, so I obviously wasn’t a fan right from the start of the quote. But it just got better as I read. Stalk? Flip out? Drive insane? Hunt you down like a bloodhound?

Am I a mom or a troubled suitor from a Lifetime TV Movie? And since when does making someone’s life a living nightmare equate to love?

Here’s my version, and my promise.

My promise to my children. I am your friend. I am your mom. I will protect you, listen to you, respect you, support you, be your strongest advocate & give you wings to fly when you are ready because I LOVE YOU. You will never find someone who loves, prays, and cares about you more than I do.

I’m not here to be the warden. I’m here to be the mom.

**Update:  I’ve gotten several comments suggesting that it would have been even better if I’d changed that last sentence to “I hope you do find someone who loves, prays, and cares about you more than I do.”  I absolutely agree!  I think that’s what we should all want for our kids.  🙂 **

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Entitlement

In 1982, the hottest, most-wanted toy for Christmas was the Cabbage Patch Doll. I was 8 years old, and I wanted a Cabbage Patch Kid more than I’d ever wanted anything. It was the only thing I asked for for Christmas, and I couldn’t wait to find it under the tree. To stare at the shiny cellophane window on the box before I tore it open, to admire the pretty (yarn) hair, the dimpled elbows and knees, and the little outie belly button. To rip off all the clothes to check for the mark of a true, original Cabbage Patch Kid… the Xavier Roberts signature on its little cloth derriere. Oh, how I wanted that doll.

At eight, I was old enough to be relatively aware of what was going on around me, and I heard the dire proclamations on the evening news. They were sold out everywhere. Fights had broken out in all the department stores. People were literally getting trampled to get the last one on the shelf. Oh NO.

My mom sat me down shortly before Christmas and said, “I know you’ve heard that they’re sold out everywhere. I hope you’re not too disappointed if you don’t get one for Christmas.”

I then proceeded to lie to my own mother. “Oh I won’t be disappointed, Mom.”

And to make a long story short, I wasn’t disappointed. Because come Christmas morning, against all odds, she was there. And she was perfect. To this day, that Cabbage Patch Kid remains my hands-down, no contest, favorite Christmas present ever.

I still have that doll. She’s usually naked now, she’s lost a few strands of hair, and her face is permanently dirty. But she’s still loved. I last saw her yesterday afternoon in my bedroom, where the girl left her after pretending to nurse her to sleep.

I so love and appreciate that my parents got me that doll. And it wasn’t just the doll. They also got the purple Nikes that I so desperately wanted. And the Guess jeans. And the Swatch watches. I appreciate it even more now that I’m a parent myself… knowing that things weren’t always easy financially. Knowing that they sometimes made sacrifices themselves to make my sister and I happy.

But I never felt entitled.

Yes, I grew up with a sense of personal responsibility. I worked hard, I paid my bills, I was respectful and polite to those around me. I was none of those things that people continually – and mistakenly – chide today’s youth for being. Why? Because as much as I remember the dolls and the fancy sneakers and the fun “stuff”, I remember something else more.

I remember that my parents gave me their attention, and that they gave me their time. I remember that they gave me love. I remember that they gave me their support, their friendship, and their acceptance. I remember hanging around after dinner hanging spoons from our noses. I remember playing dice games and card games and laughing until our sides hurt. I remember a lifetime worth of quiet moments, inside jokes, and family adventures.

I see parent after parent complaining about today’s youth feeling too “entitled.”

Kids today think their parents owe them everything!
They think life should be handed to them on a silver platter!
They’re overindulged!

I see articles like this one, instructing parents with a set of rules to follow to stop this “entitlement epidemic.” Stop pampering them. Make them buy their own things. Don’t give in to their pleas. Require them to do a certain amount of chores (and then punish them when they don’t.) Give them an allowance (and then dictate how they can and cannot spend it.)

I think we’re missing the boat here. Strategies like the above only widen the gulf between parents and kids, and further the “us vs them” mentality.

Why not give freely and abundantly to your children just as you would to any person that you love? I want to give all that I can to my kids, just as my parents gave all that they could to me. Not because they’ve “badgered” me into it, not because I want them to like me, and not because it keeps them quiet (all reasons I see touted over and over again in these negative articles) but because it feels good and right to give to those we love. To give our time, our attention, our love, our companionship. To give our acceptance and our unconditional support. And yes, to give when we can those toys, games, and “things” that make their lives a little more fun or interesting or exciting. We give freely to our kids, and they in turn give freely to others.

I think that the kids that people refer to as being “overindulged” and “entitled” are not kids who were given too much. I think they were simply kids who weren’t given enough. No, I don’t mean not enough stuff; I mean not enough of their parents. We are all looking for that love and attention. We’re all looking for a connection… with somebody, with something, with anything. When we don’t get it, there’s a void. Kids who are not getting what they need from their parents learn to fill the void with “things.” And it’s not because their parents were too lenient or too permissive or too indulging. It’s because their parents neglected to give them more time, more attention, more unconditional love.

As a society, we’re told parents need to be more strict. Need to lay down the law and show our kids who’s boss.

I think that’s going in the wrong direction.

I think we need to give our kids more. They didn’t ask to be here. We chose to bring them into the world, and into our lives. We should give to them freely and joyfully and completely, just as we would give to anyone else. (In fact, even more so, because they are OUR CHILDREN) We should give of our time, our attention, and ourselves.

And Cabbage Patch Kids are okay, too.

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You’re a Terrible Mother

Yes, you. You are a very bad mother. You’re still figuring things out. You’ve made mistakes. You’ve lost your patience. You’ve yelled. You’ve spanked.

Therefore, you are a terrible mother.

You didn’t breastfeed. You did breastfeed. You breastfed too long. You home school. You public school. You vaccinate. You opt out. You use cloth diapers. You use disposable diapers. You use no diapers. You do things differently than me.

Clearly, you are a terrible mother.

I recently watched yet another online forum implode, in part because someone asked for advice and subsequently got her feelings hurt when she didn’t like the advice given to her. She cried that everyone was making her out to be a bad mother, sides were taken, and BOOM. Another perfectly lovely community unraveled like the waistband on an old pair of underwear.

This is not unique of course. Everyone who’s ever been part of a moms group in any fashion (but particularly on the internet) has seen it happen and again and again and again. People feel challenged. They feel judged. They get defensive. They want to blame the people around them.

“How dare she think I’m a bad mother!!”

But the fact of the matter is, she probably doesn’t. And if you didn’t already think it about yourself, chances are you wouldn’t be projecting it onto her either. If you feel confident and peaceful about your own decisions, why would what anyone else says bother you anyway?

When I read something that challenges me as a parent, something that makes me react strongly in some way… whether in anger, hurt feelings, or defensiveness… I know that it’s something I need to examine and respond to in myself, not to the messenger. Maybe it’s something I know deep down that I need to work on. Maybe it’s made me think about something in an entirely new light. Maybe it’s struck a nerve on one of my own deep-seated regrets or insecurities. Maybe it’s simply reminded me of my own mistakes.

None of the above makes me a bad mother.

And it doesn’t make you one either. Self deprecation helps no one… not you, and certainly not your children. If something you read (here, or anywhere) strikes a nerve, ask yourself why. Made a mistake? Move past it. Need to make changes? Make them. Don’t use your own guilt or frustration or insecurities as an excuse not to ask yourself the hard questions, or as an excuse not to do better.

Make choices intelligently, and make choices consciously… both of which are something a terrible mother – if such a thing existed – would never do.

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Reconnecting

I haven’t been here lately. I’ve been here physically, but mentally I’ve been somewhere else. I haven’t been as present as I need to be… for myself, for my spouse, and especially for my kids. So wrapped up in my own stress and fatigue, I realized that I’ve been guilty of “going through the motions.” Doing all the things I’m supposed to be doing, but not feeling them.

And I don’t want to be that mom.

I want to be connected… not just THERE, taking up space.

Yesterday, the girl asked me if I could make some biscuits. So I got everything out, and started measuring and dumping, not even thinking about what I was doing. Just a few seconds later, I heard the little voice:

“Can I help?” followed by the unmistakable scraping sound of a kitchen chair being eagerly pushed over to the counter.

The fact that she even had to ask (ordinarily I would have offered) struck me out of my selfish monotony.

She wanted to bake with her mom, and I was going to be there.

And when we were done with the biscuits and the last crumb had been eaten, we didn’t seal our reconnection with a hug or a snuggle on the couch.

Instead she wanted to check on the chickens.

Three year olds don’t over-think things the way we do. They already know how to live in the moment. As far as Tegan was concerned, she had my full attention, and that was exactly as it should be. It was just her and mom, doing what we do.

We checked on the chickens, gathered the eggs, and rinsed out their water container. I was just about to turn off the hose when she stopped me. “Wait! Don’t turn that off!”

So I didn’t.

For the next hour and a half, I forgot the rest of the world, and focused on reconnecting with my daughter. We hosed the chicken poop off the patio (which, as strange as it sounds, is oddly cathartic), made it “rain”, and talked and talked. It took at least three times as long as normal to get the patio clean, because for every spray the patio got, the girl got two. And with every squeal, every smile, and every burst of laughter, my world got just a little more right again.

Life shouldn’t be about treading water, spinning your wheels, and going through the motions. It should be about the moments. The people. The connections.

It should be about bonding over biscuits and chicken poop.

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So I Hit Him

spanking hand

The other day, my husband came home tired after a long day at work. He wasn’t feeling well, he’d had a fight with a co-worker, and he’d encountered snag after snag in a report that had to be done by the end of the day. He had yet to tell me, but he was also very concerned about upcoming budget cuts. He came inside, changed out of his work clothes, and sighed as he sank wearily into a living room chair.

I told him that he hadn’t yet fixed the drain in the kids’ bathroom sink, and that I expected him to do it as soon as possible.

“Are you serious?” he asked me. “I just got home, and – “

“I asked you to do something,” I told him firmly, “and I expect you to do it with a good attitude.”

He wordlessly shook his head. He rolled his eyes.

So I hit him.

I did it for his own good, though. He had to learn that he couldn’t be so openly disrespectful and defiant. He had to learn that he couldn’t treat me that way, and that it was unacceptable for him to talk back. I didn’t hit him in anger, and I didn’t hit him hard enough to leave a mark. I just hit him hard enough and long enough for him to open his eyes to his own sinfulness. I hit him until he apologized, got up from that chair, and headed off to complete the task that I’d given him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

No, the above never happened. But minus the hitting, it certainly could have. We all have bad days. We all have moments when we’re less than cheery with those we love, especially when we feel like we’re not being heard. We all have moments when we want, with every fiber of our being, to tell the person who’s ordering us around – and not considering our feelings – to BACK OFF. We’re human.

Most of us wouldn’t consider striking a spouse, or a friend, or a coworker for a moment of humanness (and even if we did, we recognize that it’s not exactly LEGAL) Yet the above scenario is something that’s played out with parents and children over and over again. The above justifications for spankings are ones that I hear verbatim every time the subject comes up.

They need to learn to obey the first time!
They need to learn to be respectful!
They need to learn who’s in charge!

You may argue that it’s not fair for me to compare a grown man to a child. He should already KNOW how to treat people. A child is still learning, still immature, still figuring out the way the world works. It’s our job as parents to make. them. understand.

Wouldn’t it follow then that they should receive more compassion, and not less? That they should be treated more gently, not less? Children are people… people with big feelings and strong emotions. They are looking to their parents for reassurance, for love, and for a positive example of how to treat themselves and how to treat others.

Will spanking meet that need? Or will it do the complete opposite? At its very very best, the most it can do is send a confusing message about blind compliance with people bigger than them… and that their own thoughts, opinions, and feelings do not matter.

I want my kids to feel safe in their own house, and in their relationship with their father and I. I want them to know that they can say anything to me without fear of punishment, and that they can trust that I will give them an honest and thoughtful response. I want them to know that I will apologize freely when I’ve hurt them, and I want them to know that I will forgive freely when they’ve done the same.

As for learning to be respectful: In the above example, I could’ve started by not treating my husband like he existed to meet my every whim and demand. He doesn’t, and neither do my kids. If I’d taken a step back and really listened and watched and empathized, I would have seen that nothing more was needed than a kind “Rough day?” or “Want to talk about it?” Either response would have garnered a far more positive outcome (for both of us) than any blaming or punishing ever could. Either response would have spoken volumes to how a person should be treated, and to how a person should be respected.

I think it’s interesting that companies hold all these meetings and conferences and seminars about effective communication and positive conflict resolution. I can’t help but wonder if it would even be needed if more people practiced the concept on their own children.

Welcome to the 2nd Annual Carnival of Gentle Discipline!

This post was selected as one of the Crème de la Crème of gentle discipline blogging! Click on the image to view more Crème de la Crème posts!

 

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