Partners in Parenting

Now I Only Have the Urge to Use the Frying Pan for Cooking

A couple of weeks ago, Husband called while out of town on business to see how the kids and I were doing.  Because the wee ones were in bed, I spoke freely about Tod-lar's especially challenging behavior.  As I spoke, I could feel my heart begin to race because a small voice in my head started saying things like, "Husband doesn't have to deal with this.  Noooo.  He gets to stay in some swanky hotel for a few days, eat at fine restaurants, and have cocktails with colleagues while I'm left dealing with challenging Tod-lar behavior."  The more I talked about what was going on at home, the louder that voice got, causing steam to shoot from both my ears. 

When I finally finished telling the Tod-lar tales, Husband said, "God, Honey.  That's sounds really difficult.  I'm so sorry you have to deal with that by yourself.  I'll be home to tomorrow to give you a break.  But I have to say, it sounds like you're handling it all really well."

My heart rate slowed.  The steam dissipated.  Within moments I felt relaxed.  "Yeah!" I thought to myself.  "This is difficult.  But I am handling it well.  And tomorrow I'll have some help!" 

I felt so much better, I happily moved onto another topic.

When I got off the phone, I realized that two years ago the conversation would have gone much differently.  After relaying my Tod-lar woes, Husband would have said something like, "Well, I think all kids are just hardwired this way," or, "Is he sick or something?" or "Have you tried X solution?"  All of those responses would have made me want to reach through the phone and knock him upside the head with the receiver. 

So what caused the change?

It's probably the conversation we had after several incidents where I vented some frustration about the kids, and Husband spent 20 minutes trying to either solve the problem or find some cause for it.  Every time such an incident occurred, I'd be pissed off for days but unable to express why.  Finally, after the fourth incident, the Charlie Brown scribble above my head untangled, and it dawned on me that his responses seemed to negate my feelings and question my parenting skills.  So, fearing I might give his head a good whop with my favorite frying pan during the next incident, I decided to tell him how I felt.

"Honey, every time I tell you I'm frustrated with the kids, you either try to find a cause for the problem or solve it.  I know you're trying to be helpful.  My problem I have is that I feel like you're negating my feelings and questioning my parenting skills."

He, of course, was completely surprised.

"Really?  That's not my intention at all."

"I know.  I really do know that.  But it's how I feel.  What would really help me is if you would just listen and offer supportive words.  When I want you to help me solve a problem or find a possible cause, I promise to ask you directly."

The next time we had an incident, Husband listened, but he was a little unclear how to be supportive, so I had to give him a little help. 

"Do you think I'm doing a good job?" I asked him.

"Yes."

"Then that's what I would like you to tell me."

With practice, Husband has gotten really good at being there for me when the kids get challenging.  His support is genuine and always manages to make that little voice in my head, which can sometimes get out of hand, shut the hell up.  I just had to figure out what I needed from him and tell him without verbally attacking him or hitting him over the head with the frying pan.  For me, that's a big deal.  See, in the old days (meaning my past relationships), I would have expected him to figure out what I needed on his own.  And when he couldn't (because who can read minds?), I would have used the frying pan for something other than cooking. 

First Q & A: Milestones and Maternal Guilt

We received this letter from Mitzi last week:

I need some help.  I have a 3 year old girl and a 9 month old little girl.  My 3 year old is very vibrant, intelligent, caring, and verbal.  I love love love all that she is.  Ever since she was small she seemed to achieve all the "milestones" early to on-time which was great for me as a first time mother.  My 9 month old is the most loving, snuggling, and laughable baby I could have ever hoped for.  She smiles all the time. 

She, however, seems to be taking forever to reach any milestones.  She has no interest in crawling.  She rarely responds to her name when I call it.  I feel like she never gets the alone time that my oldest got.  Both my husband and I work outside the home.  The baby stays with my mom and the oldest goes to pre-school.  I usually pick the baby up by 3:00, go get sister and head home by 4:00 or so.  By that time the baby wants some food, then needs a bath, plays a little while and is usually ready for bed by 6:30.  That doesn't leave me a lot of time to squeeze in all I want to do.  There is just always something else going on in the background.  I do read to her everyday though.  I just think that by now she should be pointing to pictures in books and turning the pages. 

Basically, I just wonder if a lot of 2nd babies are like this or not.  I guess what I want to hear is other people's experiences.  I try not to compare the baby and the older girl but its hard not to since that is all I know.  Could you please shed some light for me?  I feel more and more stress and guilt everyday.

I hear a couple of themes in this letter. First, I hear a mom who wonders if her baby is normal, who’s concerned about the slow achievement of milestones. Secondly, I hear a mom who feels guilty at how little mommy-baby time she’s managing to give this second child. The two themes combine when mommy begins to wonder if the lack of mommy-baby time is contributing in any way to the perceived slow development of her second child - the ultimate guilt-inducer!

Let’s look at them one by one. First, whenever you have concerns like these, a discussion with your doctor is a good starting place. Is your child really delayed?  Mothers are often the first ones to see the problem, and I don't want to dismiss your concerns in my efforts to reassure you!  Schedule a visit to discuss your concerns.  Is your baby’s doctor at all concerned, or does s/he think baby is doing just fine? You’re concerned she doesn’t respond to her name: could there be a physical difficulty - how’s her hearing? See what your doctor thinks.

If there does turn out to be a physical/neurological/medical problem, you will have an explanation for what concerns you, and a course of action. Knowing the facts and being able to take action is so much better than just worrying!  If the conversation with the doctor assures you that baby is perfectly fine in all particulars - and usually they do! - you can start to relax.

The examples this mom gives - crawling, turning pages, pointing to pictures, responding to her name - are all things that many nine-month-old babies are doing. However, there are many others who are not doing these things yet. I don’t hear anything to be worried about yet. The range of “normal” is  very broad, much broader than most people realize. I’ve seen children crawl at four months (egad!); I’ve seen those who didn’t crawl until 11 months; I’ve seen those who never crawled at all, but went straight on to walking! Huge variation.

So, my input on that first theme? Ask your doctor, and if s/he’s not worried, try to relax.  If your doctor’s not worried, you can ask when s/he might begin to be worried - two months from now? four? It’s all information that’s good to have.

Now, that second strand, the concerns that baby is not getting enough one-on-one time, and that this might be compromising her development.

1. First, right off the top, it seems baby is getting one-on-one grownup time,  with grandma. Are there other children there, too? If not, baby is getting lots of one-on-one adult attention. It’s not mommy time, no, but grandmas are pretty decent back-up mommies.  The one who’s suffering here is you!  You miss your baby. But your baby? I can’t imagine most grammas allowing baby to be starved for adult attention. :-)  Grammas are chief elders in the village that raises the child!

2a. This one will be hard to hear:  Your second baby will not get as much solo mommy time as the first did.

There is no way around this fact.  I remember feeling no end of guilt about this when my son (my second) was born.  Suddenly, my first child was being ripped off of all her mummy time, and my second would never experience what the first had received. What had I DONE???  Oh, the guilt! 

Before the new baby was a year old, what I saw was that “what I had done” was not to take something away, but to give them something - a sibling.   They each got stuff from their sibling that they just couldn’t get from me. Siblings enrich each others’ lives, learn from each other, enjoy each other. (And try to kill each other bytimes, indeed, but it’s not all squabbles and rivalry!)

2b. The time spent with your baby does not have to be solo time for it to be quality mom time. Rolling around on the floor with both your kids is fun for all three of you.  Holding baby on your lap while you help older child with her puzzle; watching while older child helps to feed baby - all these are quality times for everyone.

3. Character makes a huge difference.  One child is an active, type A go-getter; another is a relaxed, type-B life-savourer.  Child A will be on the move, trying new things, pushing themselves and you. Crawling at five months, walking at ten.  Go, go, go!! Child B will be perfectly happy to sit on his blanket with his toys until he’s fifteen months old.  One child isn’t smarter or more capable than another, just different.  One sweet child in my daycare didn’t take his first steps till he was 19 months old, such a calm child he was, no drive to get places at all – but he was speaking in long sentences, with clauses and sub-clauses, at 22 months. Amazing!

One child doesn’t crawl till she is 9.5 months old, but walks at 11 months. Another is up on his hands and knees, ready to crawl at five months, but doesn't walk till 16 months. Both of them perfectly normal. (Both of them mine, as it happens.) You just never know!

As to the tendency to compare?  It’s natural enough:  Your first child gave you your parenting template. Comparing is one way of learning. We compare seconds against firsts - and thirds, and the neighbour’s child, and nieces and nephews. It’s normal to note the similarities and differences.  Comparing becomes a problem only if your first child’s template becomes the only acceptable one.  We have to let each child be who they are, in all their idiosyncrasies and personal quirks.

Moreoever, comparing can be a positive. Look at all the examples I gave you a couple of paragraphs up, just to show you, by comparison, the wide range of achievement and timetables in perfectly normal children.

So, is this a second-child issue? No.  Does it have anything to do with the amount of mommy-time? No.  Is there a problem with your child? Probably not, but do chat with your doctor, just to be sure.

Me, I suspect it’s just your daughter being who she is: cheerful, loving, and laid-back.

The Mommy Phase

At our house, the kids periodically go through what we call "the mommy phase" (a more politically correct term is "the primary caregiver phase," but in our house, that's me).  When one of the kids is going through this phase, he or she will insist that mama do everything for him or her.  Suddenly, tasks that were easily done on one's own, like eating or putting on clothes, become far too difficult, "requiring" mama's help.  A child who once walked everywhere -- in fact, insisted on walking everywhere -- now needs to be "up" all the time.  This phase is, obviously, rather taxing.  Especially when both children are going through it at the same time and you feel like you're being pulled in opposite directions.   

When I first experienced the mommy phase, I thought it was sort of sweet.  I gave in to my son's every demand.  I picked him up whenever he asked and was quick to provide comfort for every little bump on the knee.  It made me feel special that he wanted me and only me.  But then, after a couple of weeks, his need for mommy all the time didn't let up, and I was starting to feel more like his servant than his mother.  While he was willing to play with Daddy, he wasn't willing to let him change his diaper, put him to bed, or any of the other work a toddler (or in this case, Tod-lar) requires. 

That's when I realized my mama hormones had blinded me to a pattern noted in research (Lieberman, 1993).  After mastering some task, or reaching a developmental milestone, children are likely to be much more demanding of their primary caregiver.  It's their way of ensuring that we're still there for them after they've spent time being absorbed in learning to do something independent, like walk or pee in the potty. 

Now, knowing this tidbit of toddler psychology may seem to reinforce the need to give into the toddler's demands of mama, but I think it does just the opposite.  When my kids learn a new task that gives them some independence, I want them to keep using it.  It's not just that I don't want to do as much work (but, hey, one of the benefits of being a parent is that the kids get older and don't require as much work -- or least require a different kind of work), but the kids need to feel confident in their own abilities.  Yes, they need mama, but they don't need me ALL THE TIME FOR EVERY LITTLE THING. 

So, whenever my kids are going through the mommy phase, Husband and I continue with business as usual.  Husband will take Tod-lar to school despite his protests.  When Tod-lar demands I put his clothes on for him, I tell him he can come do it next to me while I'm doing some other task.  If he still insists I do it, I tell him he can either do it himself or he can go to school in his pajamas.  When Bah-bie is pulling on my pant leg demanding, "UP!" while I'm making dinner, I give her a quick hug and redirect her to the play room.  I let them know I'm still there for them and am happy to provide emotional support, but I'm not their servant.  I'm their mother, and my job is teach them to do these things on their own because someday they're going to be in college, and I am NOT driving to the dorm every morning to put their clothes on for them. 

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Lieberman, A. F. (1993) The Emotional Life of the Toddler. Simon & Schuster, NY.

Who's Raising Baby?

During our last comment conversation, this Daycare Provider was drawn (not surprisingly) to comments made about daycare.  The issue that attracted my attention most was the question of who exactly is "raising the child". 

One mother stated that she didn't like the idea of "a daycare raising [her] child."

Another mother (understandably enough) reacted to that: My kids are not being raised by daycare. I take offense to this. They are being raised by my husband and I. But they do go to daycare and play during the day. People have a weird idea of what daycare is. It is not some horrible place where my kids are not taken care of, nor is it the place where they are raised. It just is.

Let me make it clear at the outset that I am quite sure that if the three of us were discussing this over coffee, the discussion would be friendly and helpful. I've taken only a small part of their comments, and it certainly doesn't express all they believe, I'm sure.  A discussion would reveal explanations, clarifications, nuances, and expansions of their comments. There is only so much, after all, that can be said in a tiny comment box.

However, taken at face value, both comments are mistaken in their understanding of what it is a daycare does. The first attributes too much influence to daycare; the second, not enough.  Both misunderstandings can be addressed neatly by that now-familiar aphorism, "It takes a village to raise a child."

The first commenter believes that a daycare "raises her child". Now, I'm quite sure that she doesn't mean this as globally as it sounds.  No parent would argue that the daycare's child-raising influence extends into the hours when the child is with the parent. I don't think this mother likely really believes that the daycare is the child's primary caregiver. Thus I infer that her expressed concern, that the daycare would 'raise her child', means that she is uncomfortable with the idea that during daycare hours someone other than herself has primary influence over her child.

In practical terms, she's right.  During daycare hours, as a daycare provider, I determine what the child will eat, when he or she will sleep, what games and activities will occupy his/her time.  I establish behaviour expectations, I encourage good manners, I chastise inappropriate behaviour, I kiss bo-bos and clean faces and change little backsides.

In emotional terms, however, she's wrong.  No matter how fond I am of your child, and your child of me, I will never replace a parent. It simply doesn't happen. The child knows who their parents are; they know what home is.  There is no confusion in the child's mind.  Ever.  I suppose, were the parents abusive... but no, even then children have been shown to be tremendously loyal to the most horrific of parents. If even those 'parents' can maintain their emotional and psychological primacy with their children, the average loving parent has nothing to fear from the likes of me!

However, although daycares don't raise your child to the exclusion of the parents, the truth of the matter is that daycare providers are helping to raise the child.  Note the verb: helping.  Not an unqualified "raising", but, inarguably, we are helping in this endeavour. Surely no one really perceives daycare as some sort of limbo, a place in which, while the child is not treated horribly, neither are they nurtured quite enough for it to be termed "raising".  "It just is" is hardly a glowing tribute to the time, effort, energy, and yes, love, a good daycare expends upon your child.

Again, I doubt this mother really intended to convey what it sounds like.  While, emotionally, a parent might shy away from the idea that anyone but themselves raises their child, I doubt there are many parents who honestly want their child to be warehoused during her working hours in a place where nothing more significant than basic physical caretaking and play happens.  No teaching?  No loving?  No encouragement, nurturing, training, guiding? No instruction in manners? No modelling of patience and empathy? No guidance in impulse-control?  Of course you want all those things, and more, to happen!  And what are all those things, if not aspects of the raising of a child?

So, yes, the daycare, if it is doing its job properly, does help raise your child.  As a daycare provider, I provide an expert, experienced  resourse to you the parent, and a beloved back-up mom to your child.  Support for the parent, nurturing for the child.  I will never replace you, but I am part of the village that raises your child.

Q&A -- PiP Style

PiP is pleased to announce the start of our new weekly segment: Q&A.  You email us your parenting questions, and, with your permission, we'll post our answer.  Once we receive your question, Mary and I will determine who is most suited to provide the best possible "answer" (based on limited information, of course, since that's the best we can do in this here forum.)  We may even decide both of us should answer it!  (But we'll try to keep it short.  No guarantees, but we'll try.)

So, please, daddies and mamas, read our disclaimer (bolded per request of our in-house counsel), and email us at [email protected].  Questions and, er, "answers," will be posted on Fridays!  We'll be sure to let you know by email when your Q&A will be posted.

I'd Like a Side of Empathy With My Bias, Please

In my Marriage and Family Therapy program, my professors constantly talk to us about the need to be aware of our biases.  When I started the program, this seemed very obvious to me.  "Of course, we need to be aware of our biases.  Sheesh."  But, as the school year went on, I began to realize how ingrained biases are, and how, because we're so close to them, it's hard to even see we have them. 

Biases are influenced by a person's family, friends, culture, education -- one's entire subjective and completely individual experience.  This is why even members of the same immediate family can describe totally different perceptions of their family's life, leaving their own brothers and sisters to wonder if they're even describing the same household. 

When we communicate, our word choices unintentionally convey our biases to others.  More often than not, this inflicts wounds upon the receiver of our words -- wounds never intended.  Kathrynaz, a working mother, described such a situation with her best friend, a stay-at-home-mother, in a comment to our last post:

". . . during one particular conversation in which I suggested some of her stress may be alleviated by part-time childcare assistance, she responded with a quick, "I could never do that to him" (meaning, her son). I can not tell you how much those words stung, because in that instant I knew that as many times as she had told me that we were doing what "worked the best" for each of us, she somehow placed a value that what I was choosing to do was perhaps "good enough" for my son, but not "good enough" for her own. Ouch. And this is someone who I know respects and cares a great deal about me."

Kathrynaz's best friend exposed her bias: having someone else watch her son would cause him harm.  In turn, Kathrynaz took the words of her best friend and applied them to herself.  What each of these women did in this situation is exactly what we all do as people.  We speak from our own perceptual lenses and we hear through our own perceptual lenses.  It's not wrong.  It's just what we do. 

Kathrynaz then went on to say:

"Although I think the "whatever works best" argument is a very polite remedy to dealing with the [go-to-work/stay-at-home] debate, I think we also need to probe deeper and ask ourselves if we honestly can say there is a positive value to both decisions."

Frankly, I think Kathrynaz is right.  Rather than giving the "whatever works best" argument mere lip-service, we need to put it into practice.  We need to put ourselves in the shoes of someone on the opposite side of this issue to bridge the gap so that it no longer is a debate.  We need to be aware of our biases and choose our words carefully.  At the same time, we need to take responsibility for our reactions to what others say.  For the most part, when a person is speaking from their own perceptual lens, they are not talking about us -- they are talking about themselves.  Let's give each other room to do that.   

When talking with my former friend, it never occurred to me that perhaps just talking about wanting to work conveyed the message that her choice to stay home with her children was somehow wrong.  I wish I had been more sensitive to that.  I also wish she had said something to me about it directly rather than reacting passive aggressively.  Perhaps then we could have had an honest discussion that would have clarified our feelings.  Maybe then we could have given each other space to say how we feel without it hurting the other person. 

I know what I'm saying here is not new.  I wish I had "the answer" to end what should not be a debate.  As women, we already have so much stress due to the endless number of roles we occupy (not that men don't have multiple roles, but, sadly, research shows that even women who work outside the home are still the primary caregivers when home and still perform the majority of the household chores -- but we do recognize there are always exceptions!).  Rather than debating each other on this issue, we should provide support because as Kathrynaz and other commenters pointed out, and our PiP tag-line states, it really does take a village to raise children.  And, sadly, these days, most families live far from relatives who would otherwise be that village. 

So, maybe next time you're talking to another mother, don't have that conversation in your head (thanks for the link, Kat!).  Instead, let us all be aware of our biases, practice empathy, and take responsibility for our own reactions to what the other person says.  Maybe then we can put a stop to this divisiveness.

[Now, will somebody please kick this soapbox out from underneath me?  I fear my feet may be glued to it . . . ]

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Remember the Sea Witch from the Little Mermaid, chortling as Ariel agonizes over whether to hand over her voice so as to acquire through trickery and manipulation win the love of her crush true love, Eric?

"Life," sniggers Ursula, "is full of tough choices."

Ursula is right, too.  Life is full of tough choices.  Ha!  Just wait till Ariel starts having children! Cloth or disposable? To bink or not to bink? Co-sleep or crib? Organic, commercial, or home-made baby food? Breast or bottle? Only child or siblings?

Stay at home or go to work?

Stay at home or go to work.

When I was having my babies, my choice was clear.  Had been made, in fact, years before the pregnancies.  I was going to stay home.  And so I did.  I thrived. My children thrived. 

I had done pretty well for myself, at only 24 years old. I'd made some important decisions, decisions with life-long consequences, and I was completely happy with them. I'd made the right decisions for myself and my kids.

Problem was, I thought it was the right decision for Everyone.

Mary, that reminds me of a former friend of mine who is a stay-at-home-mom.  One day she said to me, rather accusingly, "Why can't you just be satisfied with staying at home?  Why do you need to work?"  I was taken aback by her question and her tone.  I never once judged her for choosing to stay home with her kids.  I never would have even considered saying to her, "How can you be satisfied just staying at home?  Why don't you need to work?"  I never even thought it.  I respected her choice.  I thought she respected mine.  Turns out she didn't. 

For most of my children's lives, I have either worked part-time from home, or attended school full-time.  I never worked because I had to.  I worked because I wanted to.  What I thought when I was pregnant with my first child, and what I've since discovered is absolutely true -- for me -- is that I'm a better mother when I'm working or attending school.  Having that time away -- yes, I said, "away"-- from my children, allows me the opportunity to pursue those goals, which coexist, even contribute, to my goal to raise emotionally intelligent and healthy children. 

After spending a few hours in these other pursuits, I'm more centered and more present when I'm with the kids.  Don't get me wrong.  I still practice benign neglect because I believe it's important my children realize I'm a person with my own needs, and this would be harder for them to understand if they "owned" me during the time I'm home with them.  But if I wasn't pursuing other goals, I'd be very unhappy and probably feel resentment towards my family.  That unhappiness and resentment would mostly likely manifest as constant frustration, which would, undoubtedly, affect how I interact with my kids.

Now, I know there are many SAHMs who also have career goals but who choose to put them off until their children are older.  The difference, however, between those women and me, I think, is that I would not feel content during the period I was home full-time. 

Laura, your anecdote reminds me of those friends who disapproved of my choices, too.  "How can a woman of your intelligence and education be fulfilled at home?  Why are you not making better use of your brain and your skills?  Don't you feel you wasted all those years and thousands of dollars you spent getting those degrees?"  In general, I was able to dismiss these questions/accusations as having no relevance to who I was. Still, there were times, particularly if they came from a family member or someone very close, that they rankled. Maybe I should be out there, using my training and skills. Maybe I should be modeling professional success to my daughters.  Maybe I should have financial parity with my partner.

When I thought of realigning my life to fit with those 'shoulds', though, depression overwhelmed me. I couldn't live my life like that! I couldn't head out the door every morning, leaving my kids in someone else's care! Not , I emphasize, because it's wrong to do so - but because it was absolutely not right for me.

I have to confess with some embarrassment that there was a time when I would have heard Laura's explanation of her different choice as sheerest rationalization.  I really would have, and I look back on the woman I was then with some dismay.  In my defence, my judgmentalism arose not from a sense of moral superiority, but from contentment: I was perfectly happy being home with my children, using my training and skills with them, and not with a class full of children.  It was the form of parenting I'd experienced growing up, it was what I was living, and I had no real insider experience with the other choice.  In my youthful immaturity, I honestly didn't understand that other families could be just as happy and functional having made other choices.

Over the years of running my daycare, though, I have had an insider's view of working-for-pay parents and their relationship with their children. Well, as "insider" as it's possible for a non-family member to be.  I have discovered - surprise! - that working parents are good parents. (I'm still a little embarrassed that this wasn't perfectly evident to me all along, but I'm being honest with all you good people.) Certain challenges may be different between working-outside-the-home and stay-at-home parents, but their love for their children, their hopes, their worries, their dreams for their kids are the same, no matter how many hours a day they spend in their childrens' presence.

What's interesting, Mary, is that I also suffered from my own "shoulds."  For the first two years of my son's life, I felt guilt for not being content with staying at home full-time.  "What's wrong with me?" I thought.  "I shouldn't be so selfish.  I should feel perfectly happy being with my kids full-time."  Since then, however, I've come to the conclusion that my inability to be content with being a SAHM is not a character flaw.  It's simply who I am.  And pretending to be something I'm not wouldn't be better for my children.  It would be worse. 

Making the choice to stay home full-time or not with our children always reminds me of the instructions you get from the stewardess before the plane takes off: "affix the oxygen mask to your face FIRST before assisting your child."  This advice seems counter-intuitive.  But the fact is, you can't effectively assist your child until you've taken care of yourself first. 

I have learned from experience what  Laura has known all along:  parenting is only effective if it expresses who the parent really is, if it capitalizes on their strengths and works around their weaknesses.  Parenting is too important an endeavour to sacrifice yourself on the altar of a should, to try to make yourself fit a mold that just doesn't work for you.  While one should always be willing to grow and develop, you cannot live your life false to yourself.  What would that do to you?  What would that teach your children?

Stop "Shoulding" All Over Yourself

As Mary wrote in her last post, many of us suffer from the guilt of the "shoulds." 

I should not yell at my kids.  I should not say things I don't mean.  I should follow-through on whatever I say.  I should listen to my children more.  I should stay home with my children instead of working.

As Mary also pointed out, not all "shoulds" are attainable, but many are.  For the ones that are (and even those that aren't), rather than spending valuable energy and time "shoulding" all over yourself, DO something about it. 

First, collect some baseline data on that "should."  For instance, if you think you should not yell at your children, then keep a log for two or three weeks of how often you do yell.  Include short notes about the situation and how you felt physiologically right before you began shouting.  When you examine the data, you may find you don't yell nearly as much as you think.  On the other hand, maybe you really do yell too often at your children.  Now that you have clear evidence, you can implement your own intervention. 

If the data shows you only yell in a certain situation, then change the situation (just as Mary suggested!).  If it can't be changed, then stay aware of those physiological signals which tell you you're about to start shouting.  When you start to feel your heart and mind race, take a deep breath and count to ten.  Or tell your child you need a minute and walk to another room to collect yourself.  Or try changing your tone of voice.  You can even force yourself to unfurrow your brow and smile, which can help to change your internal state from angry or frustrated to at least neutral, if not happy (Adlemann & Zajonc, 1989). 

While implementing your intervention, continue to track how often you yell.  You may even want to track how often you wanted to yell, but didn't.  Seeing progress on paper can keep you motivated in practicing self-awareness and maintaining your intervention so that the new behavior you're seeking becomes the new habit.  Then, you can cross that "should" off your list! 

Sometimes parenting isn't about changing our children's behavior.  Sometimes it's about changing our own.

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*Adelmann, P. K., and Zajonc, R. B. (1989).  Facial efference and the experience of emotion.  Annual Review of Psychology, Vol. 40, pp. 249-280.

The Tyranny of the "Shoulds"

When I go out with the tots, I often push a stroller that seats four. With a child or two walking alongside, that can create quite a stir. People point and smile, people gasp, people laugh out loud. Many come over to talk, and when they do, I think the thing I hear most often is "Look at all those children! You must be so patient!"

Guess what?  I'm not.  Not particularly.  Just like everyone else, I have my strengths and weaknesses, but patience is not a particular area of excellence for me.  I can be quite impatient in certain circumstances, but over all, I think I'm patient-neutral.  This does not make me a bad caregiver: it just means that I need other strengths to compensate.  It means I likely interact with the children differently than a more patient person might; I probably structure my day differently.  Differently, not better or worse.

It would be a huge problem, though, if I felt I should be patient, if I berated myself for my impatience, and worse, if I allowed myself into situations that would try my patience beyond bearing - because daycaristas should be patient!  "Why is this so hard?  I should be able to cope!"

Accepting that in this area I fall short of an ideal means that I do my job better than if I continued to strive to be other than what I am.  Please be clear:  Accepting what I am does not mean that I allow myself self-indulgent hissy fits at the childrens' expense!  It means that I structure my day and align my expectations of the kids to minimize stress on my less-than-saintly patience levels.

What about us as parents? What are our expectations of ourselves? Do we have an idea of what a  mom or dad "should" be? Do we try to squeeze ourselves into molds we just don't fit?  Do we berate ourselves because we're not this or that enough, or because we have this or that feeling we "shouldn't" have?  Some of our "shoulds" are conscious, others are not. These are hardest to deal with.

I suspect that if you're dissatisfied with your parenting, and especially if the dissatisfaction is vague and global, you may be suffering from a sense of inadequacy brought on by failing to be an unconscious "should". Dig it up and take a good look at it.  Does that "should" reflect who you really are? Can you compromise with your Inner Perfectionist, and accept that you can be a great parent without meeting all your "should's"?

Life is a process of gradual maturity and improvement. Some of those "shoulds" are attainable, and the striving for them can bring great satisfaction. Others are not, and we need not allow them to detract from the joy we can take in our children, and in our relationship with them.

What are your "shoulds"?

When Does Discipline Start?

I had a friend whose two-year-old son would always say, "Me want to play with dat," or "Me like dat."  In all the time I spent with this friend and her son, I never once heard her politely correct him.  However, the very day the boy turned three years old, my friend said in front of me, "Tell Laura what you know how to say now!"  The little boy looked at me and said, "I like you!"

My friend beamed with pride.  "See!  Now he's old enough to use proper English!" 

Given this little boy had already been speaking for well over a year, I wondered why my friend thought age three was "old enough" to teach him the proper pronoun.  If a child is capable of stringing several words together, why not teach him how to do it correctly regardless of his age?  Why, instead, allow him to get into the habit of using "me" when it's correct to use "I?"  What was it about the age of three that was meaningful to her?  Sadly, I'll never know the answers to my questions because, frankly, I didn't feel comfortable asking. 

The reason I tell this story, however, is because I've experienced this same attitude when I speak with other parents about discipline (and by "discipline" I don't mean "punishment" but rather "instruction").  I've heard mothers say, "Well, she's 18 months now, so I think we're about ready to start disciplining her."  What do parents really mean when they say this?  Do they mean that for 18 months the child has experienced virtually no discipline, and then, quite suddenly, his or her whole way of interacting with his or her parents changes?  If so, is this really fair to the child -- or the parents?  By 18 months, habits of interaction between parent and child have been well established.  For all parties involved to have to suddenly change those habits based on some arbitrary age is, well, unnecessary. 

Mary, what's your take?

I think, when people say that a child is old enough that they can "start disciplining" him or her, what they really mean is the child is old enough to understand punishment. I doubt that most children have been completely undisciplined prior to this point - though certainly some are, poor kids! A parent who says this doesn't understand what discipline is, doesn't understand that in fact, they have been disciplining all along, from very early in the child's life.

The origin of the word "discipline" comes from a Latin word for "teach". Discipline is much more about teaching than punishing. Punishment is indeed one tool in the discipline toolbox, but it is not the only one, and it is far from the most important.

To me, discipline is all those interactions that teach a child to wait, to moderate their impulses, to recognize and obey social guidelines, to begin to consider other people. It's a long, slow, gradual process. Many times, it is accomplished in the very gentlest of ways.

Baby is nursing from a bottle. Being four months old, Baby is VERY interested in the sounds and motions around him. At every chirp of a bird through the living room window, at every flicker of sunlight through the curtains, his head swivels to the new sound. Baby's engagement with the world is delightful, but mommy is tired of struggling to keep the bottle in the mouth of her bobble-head child. Mommy holds baby in snug to her chest, and keeps the bottle against her breast. Baby can swivel his head, but if he wants to feed, he has to return to the bottle, and he does. When he has had enough that he doesn't return to the bottle, Mommy knows he's full.

This is discipline. In a very small way, Baby has had to modify his behaviour. In a very small, preliminary way, Mommy has said "Please pay attention. Please be considerate."

I've kept Laura waiting too long. I'm sure she has something to say by now!

Actually, Mary, I was just thinking how right you are that most people define "discipline" as "punishment," which is probably why Merriam-Webster considers our definition obsolete!

Your point that parents are most likely already using discipline without even knowing it is spot-on.  So if parents are already using discipline then it might be helpful if we, as parents, evaluated the level of discipline we use and our expectations of our children, which determine that level.  For example, my friend did not expect that children should or perhaps could use proper grammar before age 3, therefore, she never taught her son the correct pronoun. 

What other kinds of behavioral expectations do we have for our children?  Are those expectations too high, too low, or somewhere in between?  Are they based on knowledge of development, intuitive theory, gender differences, or our child's lack or abundance of language?  Perhaps they're based on something else like a subconscious need to keep our children babies for as long as possible, or, alternatively, to have them grow up as quickly as possible.

If we know what our expectations are and what drives them, then we can better understand how and when we choose to discipline our children.  From there, we can evaluate if we're working at the appropriate level for them.  This is why having a good knowledge base of child development is essential.  While all children are unique, basic knowledge of emotional and physical milestones, coupled with keen observation of our children's behavior, tells us what they're ready for and what they're not so we can adjust our expectations and discipline level accordingly.  We don't want to overestimate or underestimate our children's abilities -- at least, not habitually. 

What do you suggest, Mary?

You are so right! Evaluating our children's abilities and knowing what motivates our expectations in order to determine appropriate expectations for our child(ren) is key.  Absolutely key, and it is probably the hardest part of parenting for most parents. You know what behaviour you'd like to see (or not see!), but you don't know if it's reasonable. Can you ask for this now? Should you hold off? Do you want this because it's best for your child, or only because it bugs you so much? Is that wrong? Will you be pressuring if you do? Will you be selling them short if you don't? Parents can second-guess themselves into the ground with questions like these. Thing is, there's usually far more than one way to deal with any situation, so you can do all manner of things - and still be doing it right!

Your 14-month-old scales the dining room chairs at every opportunity, but doesn't understand where the seat ends, and so is in immanent danger of falling off ten times a day. What do you do?  "Tell her 'No'!" and lift her down, every time, is the obvious answer.  It will be effective, too.  With patient, consistent repetition, she will learn not to climb the chairs. If your goal is to keep her off the chairs, this is an effective technique.

It's not the only solution, though.  Not all parents have the time (or the patience) to lift a child down from the chair as often as she will attempt it.  There is no shame in this.  After all, you could be doing this All.Day.Long for a while.  At 14 months, the urge to climb is probably such an intense drive that it may be simpler to block the room off with baby gates for a few weeks. However, keeping her off the chairs is probably, unless you have much nicer furniture than I do, not really the focus of your concern. You are probably more worried that she not fall off and break an arm!

In this case, rather than say "no", or barricade the dining room, you may opt to turn the chairs over when you can't be in the room or can't be assisting her up and down. In a few weeks, she'll have learned to climb down safely, and your dining room will no longer look like something out of a Frat House.

Sometimes a parent will do this, but will be feeling as if they've copped out, somehow.  You haven't, of course.  Sometimes a parent will say "I couldn't do that! The upturned furniture would be so chaotic, I'd feel totally tense all the time." This parent might feel their response is selfish. It's not. Your approach depends on your personality and your goals.

Absolutely, Mary.  In addition to knowledge regarding development, intelligently observing our children so we know where they are developmentally and what comes next, we also need to consider our own personalities and goals.  Keeping all these variables in mind simultaneously is no easy task, which is why we've started this blog. 

In the end, the short answer to the "When does discipline start?" question is "as soon as the baby is born!"  Discipline is about teaching our children how to operate in our world, our culture, and in our individual families.  It is a collaborative effort involving input from both children and parents.

Developing this pattern of interaction with our children at the very beginning of their lives, while keeping in mind their developmental level, ensures we don't introduce discipline according to some arbitrary date.  If our behavioral expectations are too low for too long but then rise suddenly and sharply due to some magical date, we only confuse our kids.  We can't expect our 18-month-old to suddenly listen to us if we never expected him or her to listen prior to that age.  Thus, we should always have reasonably high expectations that grow at a natural and steady pace so as not to insult our children's intelligence, because they are so very smart!

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We hope you will join PiP in this and the many more discussions to come because it really does take a village to raise children!