Monday, May 20, 2013

Spanking vs. Time-Out, the Conclusion

Did I make cute babies or what?

A rare dinner with all four of us and one was really annoying the other . . . poking, harassing, probably stabbing with utensils, you know the deal.  And for the record, they're both over 18 now, so it's not a toddler thing (well not physically, anyways).

And the torture-ee says to the torture-er, "You were the one who was never spanked, so why are you the violent one?!"

Which actually slowed him down a little bit and got us all to talking . . .

Back in the day, when my first was born, Time Outs were THE way to modify your kids' behavior.  So, of course, I read up, practiced, tried it out.  Here's the thing, though.  My first kid really liked to be around the action (I can relate--I can still remember trying my hardest to stay awake as my parents played cards with their friends, just KNOWing they were having fun without me and that as soon as I dropped off, the party would really begin.  It drove me NUTS!  so I could sympathize with my own little spawn, feeling this was def a my-genes thing).  So timing her out was the most excruciating torture.  When I first tried it on her, she could work herself up into a crying frenzy where she made herself puke.  Seriously.  And this is for maybe a minute or two.

That seemed a little extreme for what was a fairly minor infraction.  Also, the lessons didn't really stick with her.  The SECOND time she ran into the street (because the time-out did not really compute with her), I swatted her little diaper butt and she didn't like it, but she got the message, and was out playing--and NOT running into the street--without the hysteria, puking, etc.

Win for spanking.  Close curtain, I rocked at parenting.  Everyone else was crazy.

Enter second kid.  This kid did NOT like me to lay a hand on him.  He literally had a giant blue vein in his neck that pulsated when he got 'angwy,' which, i can tell you, was fairly often.  (I know, look at that adorable little face, who'd'a thunk??).  Swat that kid, and he would turn furious eyes on you and get right back up in your face.  Send him to his room, though, and he'd sit in there, calm himself down, and come out and apologize.  Which I did not actually demand (I think asking a four year old to apologize is like teaching them to lie.  They pretty much don't mean it--they're four, and if they thought they could get away with it, the little terrorists would do it again).  They just have to stop the destructive/hurtful behavior and replace it with something safe and bearable for the rest of us.

Now this is not to say he was never spanked, or that she was never timed-out.  It kinda depended on the crime, you know?  And the kids' response to whatever I was trying first.  We've made up all sorts of different and strange 'punishments' because we have to find what actually changes the behavior.

But as they were older, 6 and 8 or so, and driving me crazy, I gave them the warning that they'd Better Knock It Off (I don't even remember what It was), or else . . . or else . . . (and the trick with threats is, you've got to nail it, give 'em something they DON'T want, but that they know you WILL do, and you have to be willing to do it).  And I was worn out, couldn't think of just the thing that would, you know, motivate them to Stop but that I was, in my exhausted and worn out state, actually willing to get off my a$$ and do.  So all I could come up with was, You Can Pick It, but you're gonna have to do it.

She said, "I'll take the spank."  He said, "Time-out, fine."

And it kinda made me laugh, how they knew themselves.  And how they had to be so freakin' different.

So I said, "Fine.  That's what you'll get if you don't knock it off.  I mean it."

Honestly, I don't even remember if I had to follow through or not.  I'm thinking the discussion--and them choosing their options--kinda took the steam out of the power struggle that was going on and probably turned them back to cartoons or something (I mean, look at those faces, they were sooo cute!!)

But I did learn that day that I was definitely dealing with two different entities, and that discipline advice, instead of being all about the Rules or the Parenting Style, should actually come from a place of What Motivates Your Kid?  Because that's the trick, isn't it?  Getting your kid to stop one action and replace it with another . . .

But for all the research that says spanking your kid makes them violent (violent criminals, horrible people, etc.)  I think that NO.  That's not the whole story.

---And super important distinction--a "spank" NEVER involves a wooden spoon, a belt, or any other object besides a hand.  It is aimed at either the back of their hand (they're reaching for a stovetop, an electrical outlet, they keep grabbing things at a store) or, yes, their backsides (they're screaming, they're breaking things, being super hurtful and have not responded to the previous verbal warnings and things are about to get super out of control).  That's it--

It depends on the kids, on your relationship with them, on their personality type, and their sense of what is the greater wrong.  When you know those things, you can pick accordingly.

And they're gonna turn into luggy teenagers, then functional adults, almost definitely.  Practically in spite of what you do.

But the time-outs don't always lead to the most peaceable kids, not at all . . . so you're good to go, whatever you choose!

Friday, May 10, 2013

Stumbling towards Graduation

It's almost that time again . . . and even thought I've seen one kid through graduation already, it seems that--just like every kid is different--every graduation is different.

Different teachers, different issues (oh, the issues), definitely different stage of life, different money (unemployed life is sooo much fun!), different worries, different time to spend on all the different things . . .

Somewhere a few days back (maybe right before prom, probably then), the tide turned.  What had been a seemingly non-stop year of money OUT--yearbook, photos, announcements, cap & gown, prom tix, senior trip, etc. etc. etc.--finally turned around.  We've picked up the cap & gown, just got the yearbook, the kids enjoyed the prom . . . I've got my checkbook out and nowhere to go.

Hahahaha -- oh, there's more!  We haven't even touched on the college stuff . . . but one thing at a time, right, one thing at a time.

Last night, our final Art Show.  Maybe ever.  I don't think I took a moment to really take that in.  And the kids produced amazing stuff again this year.  Seriously, how old are these guys?

And my son's face popping out in all sorts of images--I found them all!  Even colorized, with creepy eyes, down at the bottom of a wall, a mom always finds her son, I think.

Then today, The Call.  That I KNEW would come.  I saw the read-out on the phone.  Public Schools.  Dammit, did that little bastard skip class again?  Get caught doing something AGAIN?!  I seriously thought about letting it go to the machine, but I answered it.

First she said, it's about your son.  (Gd DAM it! I knew it).  "Actually," she said, "he's a great kid!"

Well, that was unexpected.  "But he has an overdue fine here at the library and he can't graduate if he doesn't pay it by Wednesday."

There we go!  I knew it was getting too easy.  I KNEW we had to have a few more graduation-scares.  Like pregnancy-scares, no one dodges them forever.

But I'm not freaking out.  1.  It's $2, and he can pay it off with some cans of food or a box of Kleenex.  Love our school!  2.  He's actually turned the book in, and I'm not being asked to find it in his room or backpack or car or any such toxic waste site.

And 3.  He READ a BOOK!  I wanted to say, "Are you sure you're talking about my son?" but didn't. It sounded like the book actually had text, words, and not just computer codes or pix of girls.

We're going to call this a win.  And I'm going to bug the crap out of him till I know this is paid.

Sunday, April 28, 2013

The Kid-Free Weekend


It snuck up on me, like a Hitchcock cameo . . . a wide-open weekend, with (wait for it) NO kids!!  Now with one already in college you'd think I'd have lots more of these, but they seem to have a way of tag-teaming me.

(Wait a minute!!  Cue Flashback music and shaky camera---they used to do the SAME thing when they were little.  One would stay awake fussing and grumbling juuuussst until they heard their sibling wake up, then peaceful sleep for them, back-to-back cranky babies for me.  Aaargh!)

Now we'll get rid of the second kid, juuusssst be sitting down, opening a beer, putting feet up, saying, hey, wanna jump in the pool?? and beep-beep (that's the back-door-opening-alarm sound effect), in comes first kid.  She needs to pick up something, it'll just be a minute, is that dinner on the stove??

But this weekend, after a little bit of the tag-teaming and a 4:30 AM departure, we're having a . . . quiet weekend.  Yardwork, swimming, dinner out, a drive with the top down . . . it's so weird.

We finish conversations.  We call friends for happy hour (though that may not count, since Kid 1 tagged along to that!), we . . . well, I, have started planning a neighborhood party where we invite all the kids over and my niece and nephew too.  I'm telling you, it's way too quiet around here . . .

Friday, April 19, 2013

Earth Day, 2013

You are a gift the Earth has given herself . . .

You are made of her dust, her motes, her tiny little cells
and the dust of stars
and the detritus of worlds
and an oxygen molecule from Jesus' water
and a hydrogen from Buddha's breath
and a nitrogen from Abraham's wrist
and a carbon from Mohammed's exhalation
all of these things are in you
and more

You are the spirit of your mother
your father your foremothers
and forefathers and even their
enemies, you have the strength of
all of these things in you
and more

You are made of the movement of wings
the scuttle of feet
the beating of hearts
the touching of fingers
the pounding of legs
the grasping of arms
all of these things are of you
and more

You carry within you
a silent doorway
to all that is, was, and will be
it is in you to open it
(or to close it)
in you to submerge completely into it
and to return with your knowledge

It is in you a joy
a pure, Earth-deep joy
you are made to carry the flame of this joy
and keep it burning
and shield it, when you must
and nourish it, when you must

This flame is what creates you
and what will return you to dust
when the time comes

All of things are you
(there is no more)

Thursday, April 11, 2013

The Appearance of Angels

from wikipedia
Do gods or angels appear to 40-yr-old women?  Do we outgrow miracles?  (Perhaps to grow into them again, at 70 or so?)  But what about during these decades?  How do we figure out how to aim ourselves, except perhaps to shrink our overgrown flesh? (this, we seem all to agree on).  How do we grow our minds?
Achieve our Destinies?

A few years ago, I wondered (on this topic):
Or should we have outgrown such silly idea(l)s by now?  But don't we reach for them even more desperately because we've been unable to build mountains with our own will?  Or is our (my) will so easily swayed by everyday needs?  The nets we spread over our children, our homes, our families . . .

I wait for dreams, but how silly is that?  I wait for the return of my children, listening at open windows for his deep voice, her singing, his thumping feet--soon I cook, more potions, more steam, more activity that will disappear.

Qu'est-ce qu'on va faire avec les jours?  What do I want to build/create & how will I?
++++++
Postscript:
Now that I am a few years past 40, I still wouldn't mind a visionary visit, a clear sense of direction, a giant deistic finger pointing, Go This Way, or Do This Thing.

But as the kids are out so much more than in, now that I am not waiting for them, cooking for them, organizing running breathing for them, there is much more room for creation.

Little off Center Press
Fairy Tales for Bad Girls

Things are being created, and will be created and we have years to build the world how we might like it to be.

Perhaps someday we will seem like giants, winged, aglow, and pointing young women in powerful directions . . .

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Horrible News -- a Public Service Announcement

from http://favoretti.net/wp/2009/09/09/teenagers-watch-it/
Here's the thing.  I thought, once the youngest turned 18, I was Done.  Finito.  Obligation Met.  I mean, sure, we'd meet for lunch.  They'd come home for dinners, crash back at home for the summers, probably even live back at home off and on for the next few years.  But as, like, you know, renters.  Related co-habitors.  Almost like, well, adults.

I was looking at flights to Paris.  What better way to avoid the hollow, echoing hallways with no more teens slamming doors, blasting music, yelling that I do NOT understand . . . practically everything?  I'd recalibrate to the Live for My Damn Self adult setting that i had enjoyed for only a few years before switching over to that Parent setting.  Then come back and we'd all laugh photogenically at back yard barbecues . . .

But for all the books on toddlers I've read, for all the developmental research I've looked at, and with all the theories of learning and growing i've formed for the past few years (or, sheesh, decades), anyways, with all that, I did not know a Very Important Rule.

Boys 18 - 25 = prime bad-decision time.  Not mature.  Do not fall asleep at the wheel now . . . dang it!

I got the first clue when the very nice Assistant to the Vice Principal of Discipline called me the other day.  So I vented to mom-friends with older sons, expressing my surprise and dismay that this was happening now, even after he's 18, and pretty much without exception, they threw their heads back and laughed.  Laughed!  Uproariously.  Like, heads turned to see what I had said that was so funny.  Thighs were slapped, I'm pretty sure.

Judy warned me:  From 18 - 25 is a tough time.

What?!  That's what we pay tuition for, right, they take care of this.  Or, wait, this is why the military wants 18 yr old boys, isn't it?!  They're physically prime and mentally . . . suggestible.  Aaargh.

And as I ask around other moms, i have not found ONE, not a single one, who is telling me otherwise.

In fact, when i run into a mom who seems pretty happy with how her son's doing, I now no longer just put him in the 'out of the house, she's so lucky' category, but now I artlessly ask, "And how old is junior these days?"   And if the mom is smiling, the son is 25.  I'm not kidding.

So the good news (there's good news?! you're asking)--but the good news, whatever crap storm is coming your way courtesy of your 18-19 . . . 23-24 yr old son is Developmentally Appropriate.  There just aren't many books that will tell you that (i get it, who would buy those horribly depressing books?!).

But brace yourself--open the wine--call your friends--book the resort in Mexico--because I'm getting the feeling we're all going to need it . . .

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Random Stuff & Luvs


Ok, I think I have never, ever, ever posted (someone else's) advertising material within the post section of my blog, but I am crazy about this commercial!  Just saw it last night, kinda could not believe it.  Can I apply to work for this advertising agency just because of this commercial?

Randomness . . .

Driving from Why to Tucson after dark, the road is a long ribbon, bouncing you along the surface of the earth, you don't really know much else

Never mistake lack of practicing religion for lack of strong moral code

Words have a life-cycle, and you can't easily jump from one part (it's forbidden) to another (it's passe) without going through all the steps

(Same may apply to relationships)

Fundraisers are generally improved with balloons and good pr

It is no accident that different cultures, for generations, across the globe, have sent their teenaged men off to battle(s) . . .

So now they create battles where they are.  Thus do moms need to develop their campaigning skills

The heat is coming.  We were so happy and now want things to slow down.

(perhaps also like some relationships)

(also like the whole empty-nesting thing)

so maybe this isn't all so random . . .

Possibly, all the choices we thought were foisted on us by other peoples' actions (inactions, whatever) were actually opportunities for us to make choices.  It's always only ever been about the individual . . . not sure I believe this, but it's an interesting way to re-look at some things . . .