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Monday, April 9, 2012

One Size Does Not Fit All

It was April, 1989.  I was getting married in a month and I was home from college for a final dress fitting.  It was also my birthday. Many important things were going on: my marriage to a wonderful man with whom I would spend my future; the introduction of a new family member, my soon-to-be husband, into our family who would be the very first in-law child for my parents and siblings to adjust to; and, of course, it was my birthday :D.  I did not know then that something else, vitally important to my future happiness and ability to cope with life, was about to happen.

Yes, I took my bridal pix on a trampoline :D
My mother had made my birthday cake.  It was sitting on the dining room table.  My aunt had come down from Seattle to take my bridal portraits and had brought her young daughter with her, Dana.  Dana had just turned 3, also having an April birthday.  She was sitting at the table, eying the cake and my wedding veil, which hung from a light fixture as I hemmed it.  (Not near the cake.) My youngest brother sat next to her.  He would not be 3 until August.

Score 1 for Dana.

Dana looked at the cake, then looked at David.  Then she looked at the cake, then back to David.  Quietly, she said to him, "That's not your birthday cake.  It's not your birthday."  It did not matter that it wasn't her cake either, nor was it her birthday, so long as David knew it wasn't HIS.

Score 2 for Dana.

David looked at Dana, picked up the table knife brought in to slice the cake, screamed, and started chasing Dana around the table, who was also screaming as per standard when being chased by a raving maniac.

Score 1 & 2 for David. (He didn't catch her, don't worry.)

My aunt quickly picked up David.  She was (and still is) an educator.  In fact, she's a high school principal and spends all day long dealing with kids and teens.  At the time, though, she was still completing her education and was very much in the midst of academic thought concerning child psychology.  Using clear speech and appropriate vocabulary for a young child, she endeavored to explain why this particular behavior was not the best choice for David to make.  She encouraged him to "use his words" to express his feelings, rather than acting on his feelings.  David acknowledged her efforts by shrieking at a decibel which generally causes permanent hearing loss and kicking her in the shins.

Dana, on the day of the "incident" and David, a year earlier
My mother, with 17 more years and 6 more children in parental experience, walked into the room, grabbed David, and plopped him on a chair.  She snatched the knife away and looked him straight in the eye: "Stop it," she commanded.  And he did.  My aunt stared in disbelief.  My mom looked at her.  "With David, it's best just to be clear."  Indeed.

This incident came roaring back to me about 5 years later, as I was holding on to my own 2 1/2 year old boy, who was shrieking away my ability to hear and battering my own shins.  I was desperately rifling through my mental filing cabinet for "Ideas to Calm Insane Children." I had an older child, I had made it through Age Two before.  What worked for Lauren?  Ok, let's try that.

I man-handled William into the chair, knelt down, and looked him in the eye.  "William, what you are doing right now is not ok.  It is wrong to hit your sister with large trucks.  It is wrong to bite your sister.  How do you think Lauren feels?  She is very sad.  You will need to have a time out for 2 and a half minutes." (Which was very Responsible Parent of me, as per something I had read somewhere with a neat little chart showing ascending "time out" time according to age, segmented by months and weeks.  No lie.)

Now, according to my mental filing cabinet notes, the next part was supposed to go like this, gauging by my previous experience with Lauren: Child looks up at me with big, watery eyes.  Child quietly says, "Ok, Mommy."  Child then sits there, perfectly still, until I give permission to get up.  Child then runs over and give me a hug and says "I sowwy."  This is how this is supposed to go.  (Holy Cow, I remember thinking all this back then and even now as I write this, I CANNOT BELIEVE HOW DUMB I WAS!)

Here is how the scene went, with Davis Child 2.0 (Blue Model).

William burst out giggling, said "Mommy Dumb!" kicked me in the shin, and ran out the front door.

A great, big, enormous moment of epiphany came upon me: "This is why humans have so much fat on their bums.  So Moms can swat their kids on the butt!"

I remember my mother, snatching away the weaponry and getting clearly in my little brother's face:  "Stop It."  Clean and Clear. Wait, I think that's an acne medicine. Uh, let's go with Direct and Simple.

Direct: Do not waste time over-talking, making emotional appeals, or trying to get them "to see the other person's point of view."  A) They're two and this is 10,000 leagues beyond their abilities and B) They stopped listening after the third word anyway.

Simple: If you want them to HEAR it, keep it simple.  Girls can out think boys every day and twice on Sunday until they reach the age of 30.  Girls are clever, crafty, and sneaky.  You know this is true, if you are a mom, because you ARE a girl.  Boys are direct, uncomplicated, and clear.  (This is why they like the Three Stooges.  Still a complete mystery to me.)

This doesn't make girls better than boys, it's just a difference in the way they process the world. (From a certain POV, it kinda makes boys "nicer" and possibly therefore "better" than girls, simply because they're just not so warped in the way they think.  But then we have to revisit the whole "History of War and Humanity" aka "History of the Pissing Contest." Ya, no winners here.)

If you start blathering on about feelings and choices to your boy while you are in the middle of a "Stop It Now" situation, you will only have bad hearing and a limp.

Knowing how a boy thinks makes all the difference in the world when you're trying to figure out how to resolve a situation.  Why is your brother duct-taped to the wall?  Who cares "why." Most probably the answer will be "Idunno." Or "Cuz."   Lectures on kindness to younger brothers, the Golden Rule, and responsibilities of setting a good example are Priority 2.  Priority 1 is "Stop it, get him down, and clean this up."

Oh, and "You're grounded to your room for an hour." Direct AND Simple.

4 comments:

  1. Love this! My problem is that my girl finally arrived AFTER I developed my militant parenting style. Boys respond so well to barked orders " Shoes. Now. " and also our favorite "Stop. It. Now. " but Audrey bursts into tears if she perceives that I'm 'yelling' at her. It's a constant adjustment for me.

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  2. *sigh* That was beautifully said... and brilliant!!!

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  3. I'll have to file these ideas away, as we just found out #3 is none other than a brother!

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