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Archives for January 2010

Saturday Feature: Mistakes

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I’m beginning a new feature on this blog.  Every Saturday I will post a parenting mistake my husband and I have made.  Please have a laugh or cry at our expense — we really are good parents, I swear.

Turns out, a “mocha” cookie has enough caffeine in it to make a toddler temporarily insane.  Under the influence, my daughter reminded me of no one so much as Dennis Hopper.  Rapid speech, flapping limbs, wild eyes, crazy plans.  I almost had to lay on her cattle squeezer style to calm her like a panicky cow.  Thankfully, the effects lasted only twenty minutes.  This is a mistake I will never make again.  She’s not getting anything caffeinated until her eighteenth birthday.

Plan for Your Vulnerabilties

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I want everyone to like me. This means, I am sometimes too nice.  I am a push-over.  I give my toddler a choice between a red shirt and a blue shirt, she refuses.  I offer her a pink dress.  Big mistake.  My girl is a Taurus.  If I don’t develop a spine, that little bull is going to trample me.  Then nobody wins.
Thankfully, I am aware of this parental vulnerability. I work to combat it.  I read and re-read books and articles on how and why to set limits. (Book Recommendation: No: Why Kids–of All Ages–Need to Hear It and Ways Parents Can Say It by David Walsh.)  I have asked my husband to tactfully point out when I waffle.  In fact, he set a challenge for me today. Nora and I need to be waiting in the daycare parking lot by the time he pulls up to drive us home.  Yesterday, I tried to pick my daughter up from school.  I didn’t rush her out the door, as she was happily playing and we were waiting for my husband, but when it was time to go, she ignored me. Then my husband came in and we were out the door in about forty-five seconds.  He wasn’t mean, there were no tears, only brief resistance.  Nora knew he meant business and I didn’t. 
Thankfully, my husband’s vulnerabilites and my own are complimentary.  If I am the push-over, he leans toward over-enforcement.  As long as we are both willing to work on our weaknesses, we are in a perfect position to assist one another.  There was one week where it was my job to be the heavy.  Whenever he was tempted to correct our daughter, he told me about it, and I had to do it.  It was a good exercise for both of us, and allowed him some pure play time with Nora.  Afterwards, I was better at enforcing limits and he was able to let go of some rules that weren’t serving us.
It’s worth questioning your default parenting style, and making sure it’s aligned with your parenting goals.  If you find an area where you’re vulnerable, take the extra step and make a plan that will strengthen you as a parent. 

How I Learned to Stop Caving and Get Out of My Daughter’s Bed

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We ran into a bit of trouble when my daughter moved to a big girl bed.  Namely, there was room in it for me.  When we all got sick last Thanksgiving, I was so sleep deprived, and so tired of tramping down the hall everytime she woke up, that I just crawled in bed with her.  Sleep deprivation breeds desperation; as sleeping with her meant less interruptions to my sleep, I kept doing it.  I told myself that I would just lay down with her until she fell asleep and then go back to my own bed, but I was inevitably so exhausted that I would fall asleep, too.

This was bad for a number of reasons.  I was missing quality time with my husband.  I was letting my daughter be in charge.  I was getting a neckache from a toddler hogging the pillow. 

After our Christmas travels were over, it was time to make the change. I started looking around for answers.  We don’t like the “cry it out” methods, but we were at the end of our rope.  One night, I told her a story about a little girl named Nora who was growing up.  I told her all the things Nora could do by herself now and how one night, her mommy tucked her into bed with all her stuffed animal friends and how Nora sang herself to sleep.  Then I tucked her into bed with all her animal friends and left the room. And she screamed.  And screamed.  And whimpered.  And screamed some more.  My husband re-tucked her.  She settled down.  Then screamed some more.  Finally, she fell asleep.  My husband and I were in tears.  I felt terrible for creating the situation.

That night, I stayed up searching the internet, looking for a better way.  I found something that seemed to be a better fit for our family.  Here’s what we did that finally worked:

Step 1: I followed our normal bedtime routine to the letter;  anticipating any stalling tactics, such as trips to the potty and drinks of water, providing them in advance.

Step 2: As I tucked her in, I explained that she was a big girl and could go to sleep by herself.  I needed to let the dog outside, so I’d come and check on her in a few minutes.

Step 3: In about two minutes, I went back to her room, opened the door and told her she was doing a great job.  I told her I’d come and check on her again in a few more minutes.

Step 4: Repeated Step 3. 

Step 5: Went to my own bed and rejoiced.  She was asleep in less than 10 minutes with no screaming. 

We do this every night, and we’re down to one check back.  This worked for Nora because she wants to be a big girl, but she still wants reassurance that I’m engaged with her and she’s not alone.  Here’s a link to the article I found.  Step eight was the key to our success.  I hope this woman wins a billion dollars.

Decisions that Keep You Up at Night

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Parenting is fraught with big decisions. Some of the thorniest: Work or stay home? Public or private school? Only one child or more?

The night before I returned to work, when my daughter was three months old, I woke up to find myself sobbing. It was a very rough transition. There were a few things that made me feel better. We had found a daycare that was only two blocks from my office, so I could visit Nora and breastfeed her at lunch time. Most helpfully, a friend reminded me that this didn’t have to be a permanent decision. Going back to work now didn’t mean I couldn’t change my mind later. Another comforting thought was that Nora may have an easier adjustment as an infant, rather than if I waited a year and she was used to having me home.

I was lucky to have an understanding employer and some flexibility in my schedule. If we had a grueling, sleepless night, I went in late. If Nora was sick, I stayed home. I went back part-time for the first few months, then worked thirty-six hours a week instead of forty; allowing me to have every Friday off.

It’s hard to say how things would have turned out if we’d made the decision for me to stay home. I know I’ve missed many special moments, and that is the worst of it. But Nora has had some advantages being in daycare since infancy; she is very social, has a strong immune system, and thrives in a routine driven environment. My bond with her is the strongest I have ever known, I don’t feel it’s been weakened by working.

If I had my druthers, I would work part-time. But, we don’t live in perfect world. No one is going to pay me my current wage and benefits for working three days a week. And there’s security to consider. If something happens and my husband can’t work, I won’t be scrambling to find a job with a stale skill set. With two incomes, we can save for education, retirement and emergencies. Reasonable people can disagree on this issue, but every family has to decide for itself.

Right now, we are in the midst of another big decision, and one I thought would be easy. We are in the admissions process for Nora to attend a Waldorf preschool, with the intent of continuing with Waldorf at least through grade eight. Given our own experiences with public education, and the current state of public schools in our area, we’ve ruled out public school as an option. We’ve researched different educational approaches, visited three schools and are leaning toward one. We’ve visited our chosen school four times. A private tour, a winter festival, an open house and a group interview. After the open house, I was up all night, questioning our choice from every angle. It’s a beautiful environment; to all appearances, it produces smart, emotionally balanced kids. Still, questions remain, doubts linger. Do we want to send her someplace where there seems to be a homogeneity of thought and lack of racial diversity? Will the academics be rigorous enough? What if we don’t like her teacher, but are stuck with him/her for eight years? What’s the deal with the unicycles? Overall, we believe this is the right choice for us, but it’s not a perfect choice. We will continue re-evaluate our decision as Nora continues her education.

It seems counter-intuitive, but if a big decision leaves me feeling completely, perfectly comfortable in our choice, I probably need to look deeper. Big decisions are complicated, and if one seems simple, I need to make sure I don’t have blinders on. I foresee many sleepless nights ahead.

Book Review: How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk

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Lately, I’ve talked to some parents who are disappointed with the way their kids seemed to have turned out. One friend has a son who’s on the brink of divorce from his pregnant wife. Another acquaintance has a son who was just thrown in jail for DUI.

My first thought is, judge your child, if you must, on the adult she is at thirty, not twenty. I was a hot mess at twenty. I was bouncing between jobs, smoking cigarettes and not following through on anything in my life that needed attention. Now, at thirty-three, I’ve got a stable job, a happy home life and I don’t procrastinate, having learned the hard way that procrastination and debt are sure paths to misery.

My second thought is, “Oh dear, how can I keep Nora out of trouble such as this?” I know there are no guarantees, but I’m going to do my darndest to give Nora the tools she needs to become a happy, well adjusted adult, whatever that may look like for her.

One of the best books I’ve found to aid me in this quest is the classic, How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish.

Chapter I is called, “Helping Children Deal with their Feelings.” I’ve noticed too much parenting advice that is focused on helping parents cope, rather than children, so this is an approach from a refreshing direction. Practical tips and examples are offered to help your child deal with negative feelings without resorting to negative actions. Solutions often involve less parental input, not more, which is rather a wake-up call. Telling your child what she should be feeling is not helpful, it teaches her that she’s not entitled to her feelings.

Other chapters focus on engaging cooperation, alternatives to punishment, encouraging autonomy, using praise effectively, and freeing children from playing roles. The approach in every case is grounded in maintaining a respectful and loving family dynamic that supports the child’s growth and development. No name calling, no lecturing, no guilt trips. I especially appreciate the cartoons that illustrate common, yet unhelpful, approaches to talking to children and then the recommended techniques on the facing page.

This is a fast read, and one you’ll want to pick up again and again. Most of the techniques in the book can work well for any relationship, not just for parents and children. I found the tips in the “Engaging Cooperation” chapter particularly useful in my marriage. Don’t nag, use one of five techniques. The book uses an example of a wet towel on left on a bed. Here’s an excerpt:

1. Describe what you see or describe the problem: “There’s a wet towel on the bed.”
2. Give Information: “The towel is getting my blanket wet.”
3. Say it with a word: “The towel!”
4. Describe how you feel: “I don’t like sleeping in a wet bed!”
5. Write a note: (above the towel rack): “Please put us back so we can dry. Thanks! Your Towel”

The best part is, if you use the techniques in this books diligently and thoughtfully, you’ll continue building your relationship with your child, rather than watching it deteriorate. Ideally, your child blossom into a happy adult who harbors little parental resentment. Hooray!