Whose kids are these, anyway?

It's October, and you know what that means! It means that Jimmy Kimmel is gearing up for another round of "tell your kids you ate all of the Halloween candy and video their response!" High-larious! Lie to the children about something that will probably upset them a lot, then belittle or make fun of them when they melt down. Honestly, I don't get why parents are willing to do this, not one little bit. If you think it's funny and harmless, you don't need to tell me why that is. I am one-hundred percent certain that we will not come to an agreement on it. Also, if you're my friend, I still want to like you, and I have a feeling it would be difficult for me to feel truly fondly of anyone who would sell out their kid's joy for a gag... or support parents who do.

Hey, here's a funny prank idea: Let's tell an old person we love that hackers broke into their bank and stole all of the savings. Film it! Hilarity will ensue!

If I sound overly-touchy, it's probably because I am.

During the past week, I have been inundated with things (stories, videos, news items) in my in box and over social media that show zero respect for or protection of the little people entrusted by God to us. A lot of it is done with the best on intentions, but that doesn't make the means correct or beneficial or healthy.

First of all, a blog to which I am subscribed had an entry whose name I had to get past just to read it, but I tried to have an open mind. The main idea was that, over the years, the lady writing it had not always been consistent in her application of "discipline" (means different things to different people).

This:

"[My] friend... walked me through putting that now toddler in her first-time out. [We] were on the phone... My end involved a toddler’s temper tantrum and my own frustration and bewilderment on how to approach this new behavior.

“'Put her in the crib. Don’t smile.' [she] instructed. 'Firmly tell her no and then walk out of the room. She’s going to scream.'

"I did as I was told and two minutes later... 'Okay, it’s time to go get her.'

"No rocket science involved. No matrix of crime committed times age of criminal, I mean toddler. No over explaining the offense or the consequence... It was pretty pure and simple.

"I wish I could say it’s been that smooth since, but no such luck."

My stomach. Oh, dear god, my stomach. This was held up as the ideal disciplinary interaction.

How many words does a "toddler" have? Let's say she's at max two years old (still having a crib and all). Maybe 30? Maybe fewer? Maybe a bit more? Okay, let me ask you this question: Have you, with your 20,000-word vocabulary ever been so frustrated or so upset that you just screamed? Or hit something? Or couldn't talk and felt like you had to do *something* or you'd explode? Now let's say the person you love most in the world was there with you. Would you rather they close the door and leave you to your misery, or come over, offer to put their arm around you if that's what you wanted, and maybe just sit there with you until you could work through your feelings?

Honestly, I get that sometimes we need to make a phone call. I have a one-year-old. You know what else? I have abruptly ended many calls because he was starting to fuss. He's not fussing to be rude. He's not fussing because he's trying to manipulate me (although me might be trying to get my attention and get me off of the phone, but you really have to be in a position of power to manipulate someone else). He needs something, or thinks he needs something, and he can't meet the vast majority of his own needs. That's why I'm here. That's my job.

Shutting someone out when they're "overly emotional" tells them, "I don't like you/want to be around you when you're feeling extreme." And maybe even, "It's wrong for you to be very angry or very sad." You might say, "No, I'm trying to teach her that she can't pull up the carpet and throw a chair at the wall." Well, that's fine. Tell her that. But then sit there with her and work through it. Parenting is difficult. Do children need to realize that sometimes we're on the phone and they need to be quiet? Sure. But often in that moment of high stress and acting out, it's not the best time to play "enforcer" when they genuinely need an ally.

Incidentally, "time out" is a behavior-modification method originated by B. F. Skinner for use with rodents and birds. Its full name is "time out from positive reinforcement." The fact is that withdrawal of apparent love (you might say, "I love my child unconditionally!" but how you feel doesn't matter; what matters is how your child perceives your actions, and you're basically ignoring them when they're "naughty") has long-term negative effects on kids, and I don't believe it can help in the short term, relationship-wise. If you're losing control because of how mad YOU are, then by all means, excuse yourself to collect yourself. But heads-up, your child might follow you. And then, guess what? You are the adult so you get to act like the grown-up and behave properly.

I'd posted this picture, an excerpt from "Unconditional Parenting" by Alfie Kohn, on Facebook yesterday.

Then, coincidentally, for the first time last night, I saw the 30-second commercial version of this video.



"I don't think our kids have ever been that quiet!" Let's buy this car with wi-fi so we NEVER have to hear from those troublesome buggars again, honey!

In the other car: That obnoxious girl is using her imagination and playing the air guitar! PUT SOME EARPHONES ON HER AND GET HER GUITAR HERO POSTHASTE! She's harshing my vibe!

(Also: Carseats have gotten ridiculous. I know that's not a popular opinion, but it's not just my opinion. It's supported by data. The girls in the "good" car especially... they're old! Why should they be in a cocoon? That's a tangent. It's irrelevant and I lost a bunch of people just now. I should learn when to shut my mouth. Moving on.)

My point is: this car company is basically telling us that without a distraction like 4G LTE in your car, your kids are going to be awful and annoying, and there's really little worse than having to, you know, deal with your kids that you had on purpose (more or less) and are supposed to love.

Now, you can probably see in the preview panel what this is, but if you close your eyes, you just might think you were listening to a video about a dog trying to take cheese before it was time or something.


I would like to point out that this video won at least $10k, so hopefully they started a college fund for this kid. The comments are all about how smart the kid is, but I think this is just a child who really wants to interact with his mom, and who is distracted when she shouts out, so he stops what he's doing... then when he loses her apparent attention (yelling), goes back to what he was doing.

I can say this pretty confidently after watching my own boy. He will run to an outlet, look at me, and smile, knowing... that it's a no-no? Mmm, maybe. But I think it's more likely that he knows he gets a reaction out of me when he tries to unplug stuff. So you know what I did at home? I bought outlet locks for the couple of outlets that I use often and that aren't behind furniture. You know why? Because barking staccato syllables at my child isn't my idea of a good or nurturing time. Hey, lady, put your water up where your kid can't get it, and pay attention to him for his own sake. There are plenty of things we can't move and that we have to get the kid away from. This isn't one of those things. It makes me tired to watch it, and more tired and sad to hear it.

And don't even get me started on this one.

Yes, I get it; it's supposed to be a joke. Yes, I have a sense of humor. Yes, it's often inappropriate and immature. But even I can see that this is in poor taste. It violates what I used to tell my daughter when she was very small: It's only fun (or funny) if everyone is having fun (or laughing). The kid isn't in on this joke; it's making fun of him. It's exploitative. It's getting a laugh at his expense. Can you imagine explaining this to him? "Well, see, son, it's funny, because it's acknowledging that  you're so difficult to be around that your teacher might need to leave school and go home to a mood-altering beverage. I know! That's how bad you are! God, you're awful. Isn't it hysterical?!"

Now... I wrote most of this a couple of days ago, after I'd given myself a day to calm down. Well, the good news is that I'm even calmer now. Not quite so riled. And I have an anecdote to share.

I am by no means a perfect parent. Having this baby boy I have now has been such a challenge, I have read book after book about parenting because I was feeling so stressed about so much pretty much from the week he was born (what with the crying and the more crying and the never sleeping except when I was holding him and all), and although a lot of that has gotten a lot easier, there are new challenges every day. Reading all that I have, my viewpoint has changed loads. I ache for some of the things I did with Daphne, but fortunately have another half decade or so to rebuild with her.

But something happened this weekend, and I think I probably would have handled it a lot differently if we hadn't gone to the unschooling conference in April, and I hadn't started getting to know people who are "gentle" parents, and I hadn't been directed to so many amazing books.

Yesterday morning, Mal was playing quietly in the kitchen floor by himself, very involved in what he was doing. I took the opportunity to read an article, standing right there in the kitchen in full view of him. But I got pretty absorbed in my reading, and a few minutes later, my subconscious brain said to me, "Hear that? It's cat litter. You know what else? It sounds like it's being dumped on the floor."

So I looked over to the laundry room (right off of the kitchen) and, sure enough, Mal had the pasta ladle and was scooping litter out of the box and onto the vinyl flooring. Ugh.

Do you see how much that looks like a litter scoop?

Now, when D was little, and maybe even half a year ago with Mal, my thought would have been, "He can NOT keep getting into the litter, and I have to make him learn that, so to make an impression, I need to get into his line of vision and say, 'NO!' in my deepest voice a few times, just to make the point. He might even cry, but at least he should remember it."

But this time, I wasn't even mad, and I knew without a doubt that this sweet little kid was trying to help. I mean, it's not like I enjoy extra cleaning, but I don't have to extend the benefit of much doubt to see that Mal genuinely believed he was doing what his dad and I do with the litter box, cleaning it out.

So instead, I said, "You don't need to clean the litter box; that's a grown-up job." I was pleasant. I took the ladle from him and started sweeping up the litter.

He said, "Blehh."

I said, "Yeah, it's pretty gross. Blehh."

When I had my pile of litter, I reached over to get the dust pan and, guess what? Sweet kid tried to help again, by using his hand to scatter the litter, thus eliminating the "blehh" pile, certainly making that one specific portion of the floor cleaner.

This time, I did say, "You're actually doing the opposite of helping, man," but I was still pleasant to him. I wasn't mad. I didn't feel any tension in my body. I was at peace.

"Let Mommy sweep it into the pan, okay?"

After two or three tries, he let me.

Did he learn anything about how to behave? I have no idea. But we shared chores, and we talked together, and I modeled joyfully serving someone you love, and all of those are more important to me than whether he gets litter on the floor. Which I will keep asking and sincerely hope he'll stop doing after a while.

Also, though, I told James the other day: Carol doesn't seem to know the difference between her litter boxes and Mal's sand box. Maybe he doesn't get it, either. All we can do is keep reminding him, kindly, that it's icky and he should stay out. Also, same application to toilets, especially ones in public restrooms. Do you know how many of those don't have lids? And I now have a kid who understands he can crawl under the stall doors and walls (shudder) to gain access while I'm occupied.

But I digress.

Kids are humans. They are people. I feel like we need to reconsider how we think of them. They're not possessions to be ridiculed or despised or molded to our will; they're gifts and responsibilities to be led into finding out how best to channel the will that they have been given by God. 

I'll leave you with an article that another friend posted on Facebook recently. This one, It makes me happy, and it rings true (i.e. no Pollyanna stuff).

Thanks for hanging with me on this post. I needed to get that out of my system.