Showing posts with label Blog Bonanza. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blog Bonanza. Show all posts

Friday, June 15, 2007

Mother Talk Blog Bonanza Friday!

It is time once again for a Mother Talk Blog Bonanza!
Our topic this week is brought to us courtesy of Elizabeth Pantley's book, The No-Cry Discipline Solution. Before I start, two things:
1. This is not a book review; I have not read it other than a few excerpts.
2. You may disagree with my parenting methods--and that's fine. Whatever works for you is what you should do...but take note of whether or not your method is actually working. Is all I'm saying.


Aaah, child discipline...a touchy subject in most circles. In my day, my great-grandma told me to go pick a switch and it didn't even raise any eyebrows. She laid the stick across my backside a few times--it taught me the value of not picking the whippiest, thinnest, lightest one.
My dad was a spanker. Don't get me wrong--I wasn't beaten, I didn't get spanked for every infraction, nothing like that. I can't even put the blame on him for my punishment, because I knew the rules.
I knew that if he said, "If you torment your brother one more time, I'm gonna bust your butt,", then I knew that it wasn't an idle threat; if I got caught didn't stop tormenting my brother, I was going to get it.
Always the same formula: "GO BEND OVER THE BED."
And I had to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Like the song says, the waiting is the hardest part. I didn't realize until I was much older that this was Dad's cool-down time. How he took the time to get his temper under control.
And after the spanking...the 'talk'. The "this hurt me more than it hurt you" talk. Yeah. I know that some of you get what I'm talking about.
And my grandpa? Hm. Tough old guy. Smack-talk him and you got his big, hard, working-man's hand upside the back of your head. Nosirree, you didn't sass grandpa. Not more than once or twice, anyway.
When I was a teen, some of my friends thought my parents were too strict because if I was five minutes late on my curfew, I was grounded.
Five minutes. Unless, you know, I called first and if I did then I'd better have a damn good excuse that wasn't a lie, because they'd know.
I never really thought it was too strict, because my mom & dad put it to me like this: If you're responsible and adult enough to go out with your friends/date/whatever, then you're responsible and adult enough to get home on time.
I can only think of maybe one occasion that I was late with no excuse.
Because I came home on time, my parents gave me their trust. That's still very important to me.

And you know what else? I didn't turn out so bad. I don't do drugs, I never snuck out of my room in the middle of the night, I didn't get drunk at parties.
My parents taught me not only to respect them, but self-respect as well.
Oh hell, I wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination--I was (and am) bullheaded and stubborn, especially when I know think I'm in the right. I've argued with my parents, I talked back occasionally. But I didn't cut class & ditch school (except Senior ditch day, and we all went to the lake together), I didn't rebel. I just tried to be a decent kid and stay out of trouble. Getting in trouble was, and is, embarrassing for me.

So I figure what worked on me would most probably work for me as well.
I'm a spanker. Yep, there, I said it. So what?
If I think what my child has done deserves a spanking, and if I've given her a warning that if she continues that behavior then a spanking is forthcoming, AND further if she DOES CHOOSE to continue the behavior..
"Bend over the bed."
And she waits.
And waits.
And waits.
Until I get my cool-down time. And then afterward she gets 'the talk'.

And you know what else? I'd put my kid up against any other kid on the planet.
She's polite, she's a better hostess than I ever could be (and where she learned that I've got NO idea), she's smart, she's caring about others, she's innately kind and always generous. She always offers me (and anyone else who might be near) the last...the last M&M, the last bite of a PB&J, the last drink of juice. She's even got a social conscience, worried about kids who don't have homes or don't have enough to eat. She takes care of pets and strays.
I can't take all the credit for that--I've just been lucky enough to be blessed with fabulous children.

I've been criticized for being too strict...but as a single parent I have to be the good cop AND the bad cop. And I realized early on that without a backup parent, things could easily spiral out of control and I decided that I'd be damned if I let that happen.

I don't want to be my daughter's best friend. As I've said before, that only works for Gilmore Girls. Ask Kathy Hilton and Dinah Lohan how it's working out for them and their daughters, mmkay?
In my opinion, that's where parents sometimes go wrong and then wonder "How did this happen?"
If you let your kids hit each other, yell at each other, call each other names...you're teaching them that this is acceptable behavior.
If you don't hold the line, stand firm, and FOLLOW THROUGH with punishments/corrections/whatever you want to call them, you're teaching the children that you really don't mean what they say.
I've seen books from big-head-free-thinkers who encourage you to let children find their own way without any discipline, without teaching them that some things are wrong...thus depriving them of developing a conscience.
So we're raising a generation of sociopaths? Is that what we really want to do?
All these entitled kids who feel like the whole world owes them something, just because they grace the earth with their lives.
Kids who think mom & dad should buy them a car as soon as they're old enough to drive, because the parents OWE it to them.
Kids who think mom & dad should give them anything and everything they ask for...because that's how the parents have raised them to behave.

Oh sure, we all think our children are the centers of our own little universes, and I think it's INCREDIBLY important that we let kids know from the instant they're born how much we love them, how terrific they are, how beautiful/handsome/smart/special they are. I tell mine all the time--just about every single day, in fact.
But giving them everything they want without teaching them that some things must be earned? Giving in to their every whim? Letting them start and quit projects and classes and whatever?
You're teaching them that it's acceptable not to follow through. You're as much as telling them that "Mommy and Daddy will always rescue you from everything and you'll never have to deal with anything yourself. You don't have to finish what you start if it's too hard!! There there, poor baby!"
You're teaching them irresponsibility. You're robbing them of the sense of accomplishment that comes from finishing a task or completing a project or just following through.

Now I'm all for positive reinforcement...but there comes a time when a child has to understand what is NOT acceptable behavior. They have to learn that THEIR choices affect other people. My daughter knows that if she chooses to ignore the rules and chooses to behave badly, she alone is responsible for the fact that she is punished/corrected.

In the excerpts of this book, many suggestions are offered on how to avoid the conflict in the first place, thus avoiding having to discipline. I can't disagree with that! But sometimes conflict IS unavoidable, and we need to pull our parental heads out of the sand and realize that.

One particular piece of the book said that children do not whine and cry and throw temper tantrums to get back at you or manipulate you, they do it because they're being children.
To that I say that some studies suggest that children start developing the knowledge between right and wrong, the lines between acceptable & unacceptable behavior at around 3 years old.
After that? Yeah, I'd have to say manipulation IS definitely a factor. If your kid is 7 or 8 and still tantruming and you're STILL giving in just to shut them up--wake up Mom & Dad, they've got you pegged.

Around my house we ALWAYS say "I love you", even when we're angry with one another. I always thank my daughter and tell her how much I appreciate her help, and I truly mean it and she knows that. Her twin brother is severely disabled and she is a GREAT help to me. I try not to burden her with too much responsibility regarding her brother, but she takes it upon herself and what's more, seems to enjoy helping.
She's already got a good work ethic. She is aware of the value of trust. She's giving and affectionate.
She also argues if she thinks she's right, and can be stubborn about it. At least I know where THAT part comes from.

Kids need structure, they need boundaries, and they need for their parents to patrol those boundaries endlessly. They need you to follow through on the things you say, whether it's "We'll go to the park tomorrow" or "If you do that one more time I will (fill in the blank)".
Otherwise, you're not doing yourself OR your kid any favors.

Be a parent. Your kids have enough friends.

Friday, May 18, 2007

MotherTalk Blog Bonanza: Dangerous Boy Friday

**first things first:
TUNE IN tonight at 10pm EST.
Sit back and experience me. Bring booze-it's DOUBLE SHOT night!


It's time once again for a MotherTalk Blog Bonanza! Our topic is brought to us courtesy of the book "Dangerous Book For Boys".

I feel I should preface my post with a couple of things...
First, I have not read the book. YET (I'm waiting for it to arrive). I HAVE read reviews and author interviews, and I think I have a general (very general) understanding of the content. (and anyways this isn't a book review)

In one sense, I think it offers some interesting and entertaining projects and information for children.

But there's always that 'other hand'. I do NOT wish to insult the authors in any way--after all, they are men, therefore they are former boys, and they are writing what they know.

I am a girl. Well, woman now.
So I will write what I know.

See, they've left out a large portion of the population...I'm sure you've figured out which portion by now. I certainly hope the authors did not mean to imply in any way that girls wouldn't enjoy
A. Reading this book
and
B. Enjoying the activities contained therein.
I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt--since I haven't read more than an excerpt or two yet.

I did take a bit of exception to a portion of an author interview which stated, "The book is often bought by fathers, of course."
Perhaps things work a little differently in the UK, but it's been my experience that about 7 times out of 10 it is MOM doing the shopping, MOM being more likely to purchase a book for a child.
In my humble opinion, the authors would have been better served calling the book "Dangerous Book For Children".
But that's just me.


On with the Blog Bonanza!


I have a trampoline in my backyard. It has no safety fence thingy.
A friend of mine once asked, "Don't you want your children to be as safe as they possibly can??"
Well, yeah...but...

When I learned to rollerskate, I had metal skates that fit on over my shoes. I had no knee pads, no elbow pads, and certainly no helmet.
Same goes for when I learned to ride a bike.
Boys and girls played touch football together in the yard at dusk, usually with bare feet.
We explored the woods around us, plus all the little creeks and streams that cottonmouth snakes called home.
We caught ringneck snakes and lizards, crawfish and grasshoppers--the 'hoppers we used when we went fishin' in those creeks and streams.
We had bottlecap collections--we found them anywhere, everywhere, and used sometimes rusty nails to pin the caps to a plank of wood.
We walked barefoot on gravel driveways, we got fish hooks caught in our fingers and feet. We got ticks in our heads that our parents pulled out with little fanfare. Since we were mostly barefoot, we got stickers in our feet and learned to yank them out quick without hollerin'.
When I played softball, we had sliding practices. We learned to slide on the side; we learned to slide head-first.
We climbed trees and skinned our knees, we built precarious 'houses' in those trees.
We played with hammers and nails, screwdrivers, and wrenches. We dug holes in the yard with shovels.
We camped out in the back yard. We used a sterno stove to cook dinner and breakfast when we camped out.
It was never too hot to ride bikes.

Until I became a mother myself, I never understood or appreciated how my parents must have felt.
My instinct is to shelter, to over-protect...and I fight myself constantly so that I do not stifle my children. I freely admit that it's been one of the hardest things for me to do--back off & let them experience.

My cousin Sharon started teaching me to ride horses when I was young. They had a big white mare named Silver, and she (Sharon, that is, not Silver) and I rode double on a roomy western-style saddle.
No helmet. No fancy boots or jodhpurs. Once I was even wearing sandals whilst we were riding.
Last summer my daughter was learning to ride on a Shetland pony. She wore boots and jeans...no helmet.
One day the horse spooked and ran under a tree to scrape my kid off--and my daughter ended up with about 10 staples in the top of her scalp (you can read about it & see the pics).

As much as I wanted to forbid the riding of the horses after that...I didn't.
She (literally) got back up on the horse.

Kids get hurt. Accidents happen. Sad but true.

Of course we want to spare our children the pain...but how will they learn to live through it, deal with it, if we never let them experience?

I always had scrapes and bruises and contusions growing up, every finger and thumb jammed at some point (which my dad would yank back out), with a fractured wrist and a chipped bone in my middle finger (no, I wasn't flipping someone the bird at the time, it's a much more embarrassing story than that), a severely sprained ankle (3 times), cracked tailbone, and heaven knows what else--because I was experiencing life. I was playing ball and playing with friends and exploring and biking and running and climbing and skating and collecting and having fun.

I don't want my kids to suffer any of the painful things. But I'm not going to interfere too much, either.

As much as I loveloveLOVE to read, I just didn't spend much time indoors, especially during the summer. Mothers would shoo us outside with a popsicle or a cold drink and tell us to "Go play. Stay out of trouble."

That's why I wonder how those children (my generation) became parents who buy their children every electronic device known to man and let them sit around in a vegetative state in front of the TV. With video games, computers, whatever.
How did we get to this?

That's where I think the book Dangerous Book For Boys can play a useful part--with ALL children and parents--helLO, single mom here! No father/son thing...it's a mother/daughter/son groove.
The book tells of simple activities, like how to skip stones and make paper hats & paper airplanes, as well as more adventurous activities like making a bow & arrow or a go-cart. The book tells interesting historical stories (girls like history too!), teaches navigation and how to play poker.

Luckily, I'm a groovy mom & taught my daughter how to play Blackjack years ago. We've moved on to Texas Hold 'Em.

Friday, April 27, 2007

Mother Talk Blog Bonanza!

MotherTalk is hereby dubbing Friday April 27th as Fearless Friday!
"During a Blog Bonanza, bloggers everywhere write about a single topic on the same day, and on that day we’re able to click from blog to blog, reading our friends thoughts, finding new wisdom, having as close to a major conversation as blogging might allow."



In celebration of Arianna Huffington's book, On Becoming Fearless...In Love, Work, and Life, the Blog Bonanza topic is Fearless Friday.
So. Let the Bonanza begin.



I am fearless.

I realize that by definition fearless means without fear, but when I say "I am fearless", what I mean is that I am fearless about trying to become...fearless.
By which I mean that I am not afraid to try.
We are to blog about a moment when we were fearless, or perhaps started overcoming a fear, or felt empowered, stepped outside our comfort zone. I have spent much of my adult life being afraid of one thing or another.

I am fearless.

I was married to a man who abused me physically, mentally, and emotionally for better than five years. I was convinced that I deserved it; if only I hadn't (said what I said)(done what I did)(had that look on my face)(been so impatient)(fill in the blank--it all applies). Being told daily that you're fat, ugly, lazy, stupid, and no-one else would have you anyway starts to convince you that you are indeed fat, ugly, lazy, stupid, and no-one else would have you anyway.
I lived in fear. And I was so cowed that for a time I couldn't leave, I made excuses like "OH! I can't face taking down all the pictures off the wall! And OH! The packing! And OH! He'll beat me up if I try to sneak out! And OH! I'm not strong enough, and maybe he really, truly means it this time when he says he'll change."
Yeah.
Until.
Until I reached the line, the point of no return, the final straw. And it wasn't anything in particular that put me in that place, I was just there.
As I waited for a girlfriend of mine to pick me up for work, my heart started pounding and I started shaking and I suddenly thought "I.CANNOT.DO.THIS.ANYMORE."
I left with nothing except my purse. I left my clothes, my furniture, my mementos behind...and walked out the door.

I am fearless.

My children were born so early, so tiny, just a tad over a pound each, and I was afraid for their lives every moment of every day. I have become somewhat less fearful as each year passes...but it never truly has left me. I have grasped my children tightly and can hardly bear to have them out of my sight, out of arm's reach, for more than a minute.
But how are they to grow, to become who they are supposed to be?
I have to let them.
I have to let them go.
I had to reach into the deepest part of me to let my daughter walk to school by herself...and eventually I let her stop calling me when she got there.
I had to be brave and let her go out of town for the weekend with a friend.
She wants to go to camp with our church youth group for a whole week this summer...and I will loosen my stranglehold and let her.
Let her go. Let her grow. Let her become.

I am fearless.

I have been afraid to speak out, to voice my opinion, for fear of what others would think. Blogging has given me a voice, and I've discovered that I don't have to shout my opinions to be heard, to be understood.

I am fearless.

It's hard to try. It's hard, knowing that I will fail sometimes. It's hard, knowing that I have to take that first step even though I feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff. That's why I am fearless. Because I'll take the step.
I'll take it because YOU, YOUR fearlessness, inspires me. Your support holds me upright. Your affection soothes my heart. YOU are a large part of my fearlessness.
Many of you have unrealized courage, but I see it, read it, in your stories.

You're fearless too, you know.

I am fearless.

Except, you know, for bugs.