"NurtureShock: New Thinking about Children"

NurtureShock is my new favorite book (at least until my next new favorite). I just recently finished it, and I don't exactly agree whole-heartedly with everything in it, but that's okay.

But here's what I love about it. It doesn't take social wisdom as gospel, and it backs up its statements with research. I'm a self-proclaimed information junkie, so I eat up anything that's supported by numbers.

Case in point: What's the primary cause of obesity in children? Television, obviously.

Wrong. It turns out that kids who are obese don't spend any more time in front of a screen than slim children. Really?

Really.

This book will shake up your ideas of children and raising them.

Want one reason to read the book? After reading the chapter on sleep with my children, they all willing agreed to go to bed without coming up with reasons why they should stay up. They started discussing among themselves the most advantageous bedtime and working out strategies to get everything done before they needed to be winding down.

How's that for a recommendation?

This is along the same lines as Freakonomics, which I enjoyed - but not nearly as much. NurtureShock is likely to have a much larger impact on the way I parent.

New Year, New Life

Seeing as we’re coming up on the end of January, I decided it’s high time I make a New Year’s post. (Better late than never, right?)

Some of you may have wondered why I went from blogging almost every day to being virtually silent these past couple of months. Frankly, I’ve gone through a bit of a mid-life crisis, and something happened recently that forced me to take stock of what’s important, and thus reevaluate my priorities.

Toward the end of last year, I started feeling overwhelmed. What with aging/declining/dying parents who depend on me for their emotional strength (and their ER visits - even though they live three hours away), menopause, puberty (times two), homeschooling (times three), and all my volunteer work, I was feeling a tad stretched. And mentally I felt like I was going to break.

I’d finally come to the conclusion that something was going to have to give. I’d been sacrificing sleep, exercise, patience, health, and time (and love) with my children and husband, and that wasn’t something I could continue over the long haul.

Then I got a phone call that created something of an epiphany for me.

One Thursday morning my mom called. You see, my dad’s sister has the same sort of undetermined dementia that my dad has. She’s younger than he by a few years, and although she started into the dementia at an earlier age, her disease has progressed more slowly, and today she’s still able to dress herself and manage (to a certain extent) her day-to-day activities with help.

But that’s not why my mom called. She called to tell me that my aunt’s son - my cousin - was just put on Alzheimer’s medication.

He’s 52.

The same age as my oldest sister and a year younger than my husband.

I’m 47.

Wow.

This shit is inherited.

To say that that was like a kick in the stomach was putting it mildly. I felt like I’d been given a death sentence.

Would I suffer the same fate, at perhaps an even earlier age?

How many good years did I have left?

How long before I began forgetting conversations with my husband? Milestones with my children? Graduations? Weddings? Births???

I sobbed in H’s arms, cried on the phone with my sisters, and spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself.

Then, a few nights later as I lay sleepless, realizations flashed into my mind. This was the epiphany. Suddenly, I could categorize these realizations under the “what I know for sure” label.

WHAT I KNOW FOR SURE ...

1. Only a few things in life really matter. My children. My husband. My family. Love. Life. Creativity. Joy. The right now.

None of us knows how much time we have left. Does it matter that I might mentally begin to decline in five, ten, or even three years? Of course it does. But not nearly as much as how I spend those years. I could die in a car accident tomorrow. Do I want my children’s last memories of me to be ones in which I’m feeling sorry for myself, lamenting what might be ... rather than seizing the moment and living what is right now?

2. I know what my priorities are. I decided to dump everything that wasn’t a priority, everything that didn’t feed my love for life and make me feel energized. If I was doing something “selfless” (i.e., volunteering) but it wasn’t filling me with life energy and love, then I was doing it for the wrong reasons and, ultimately, I wasn’t helping anyone.

I came to realize, after some soul searching, that the reasons I volunteered weren’t the right ones. Like the celebrity who does some charity work simply for the PR (and thus ends up with the public looking at him with distaste), I found that I was needing the “strokes,” filling my need for recognition - I was still looking outside myself for validation. Not good for anyone. Who needs a “helpful hand” when that hand is simply grasping for praise?

But still, I was torn. Everyone is supposed to volunteer, give ‘til it hurts, smile while doing it, and be fulfilled from it.

But giving to others to the extent that I was somehow didn’t fit in with my priority list. It sounds extraordinarily self-centered, I’m fully aware. Nevertheless, I decided to give up my volunteering because I couldn’t devote myself to my family and also give to those outside my family ... and I experienced some guilt for choosing not to help out those who need it. (If I had removed myself a little from the emotion, I would have realized that the guilt in and of itself was an obvious sign that I wasn’t on the right track. Ask and It Is Given mentions guilt as a sure signal that you’re not on the path to happiness.)

Want to hear something interesting? This one thing solidified my what-I-know-for-sure decision to focus on my priorities and drop my volunteering. A few days after I mailed my letters to drop some of my volunteering efforts, I was on my once-a-week walk with one of my dearest friends, and as usual, we got to talking about spiritual matters and personal development. I filled her in on my reprioritization of my life and the fact that I was scaling back in order to devote my time to my family - and how torn I was about it. She looked at me wide eyed and said something like, “You won’t believe how many volunteer opportunities have landed in my lap this week!” She explained that she had lately been feeling the urge to get more involved (she once was a member of the Peace Corps but hadn’t volunteered in ages) but hadn’t found anything that seemed doable.

What are the odds of me deciding to quit volunteering the very same week that she suddenly found herself in the midst of half a dozen golden opportunities after years of dearth? Well, if you look at the world as a place of connected consciousness, I guess the odds are pretty high after all.

If I had any lingering doubts about refocusing on my priorities, that one conversation put them to rest. I have since completely embraced this decision, and I feel stronger, clearer, healthier, and happier than I have in a span of time that’s too long for me to remember. To change a phrase, the universe works in mysterious ways.

3. I’m lucky. I had only the potential of a life-threatening issue to bring me to awareness. I want to heed this and not wait for a true crisis to figure things out. All around me I hear of people who have cancer, diabetes, heart disease, or other immediate and possibly fatal issues. All I have is a threat. I’ve got it pretty good.

One more interesting thing ... Since my epiphany, I haven’t lost my temper. Not once. I walk through my day smiling and singing. If I have only three good years left and if I can spend them all without losing my temper, it’ll be worth it.

Odd, isn't it ... this threat of looming dementia causing joy and light-heartedness?

Thanks for reading through this long explanation. As far as this blog is concerned, the fallout is that I’ll continue to post occasionally, but it won’t be nearly as often as I had once planned. If the spirit moves me and I want to share something, I will. If I don’t, I won’t feel guilty.

I won’t be venting, chastising others for their parenting practices, or lamenting about how inconvenient/horrible/tedious anything is. This will be a place for my celebration of life in all its forms: good books, happy parenting snippets, interesting homeschooling stories, creative outlets, and all other enriching facets of life.

Come back and read about my new life. Or not. It doesn’t matter.

What does matter?

Your family. Love. Joy. Creativity. Life. Your connection to the world. This moment.

Experience them all to the fullest. And if in doing so you never visit my blog again, I’ll be ecstatic.

At Least This Wasn't Me ...

Let's get one thing straight. I've done some pretty shitty parenting in my day.

I've given my kid a jar of peanut butter, a spoon, and a sippy cup of chocolate milk and called it lunch.

I've begged my two youngest to watch "just one more video ... please???" (in my defense, I was nine months pregnant).

I've hidden in the back of the closet when I was so overwhelmed that I wanted to rip my toenails out.

But something I heard today made my skin crawl.

No, it isn't some horrid physical abuse or heartbreaking neglect. This is something that a loving, well-educated, mainstream mom did. And from what I understand, she does this sort of thing on a fairly regular basis. At least regular enough to cause the three-year-old to develop the nervous habit of twisting her hair out by the roots.

Background: Grandmother (GM) keeps 3yo frequently after school while parents work. Grandmother and grandchild (GC) have fabulous relationship, and GM and GC have spent lots of time together over GC's short life.

GC is at GM's house during a wedding party, and GC's mom wants to go home and put the new baby to bed. (Did you get that? There's a new baby in the house.) GC doesn't want to leave, since she's having fun, and GM is happy to keep GC for the night.

Mother says to GC something to the effect of, "If you don't come home with me right now, I'm going to pack up all your things in your bedroom and give them away. Then I'm going to turn your room into a guest room for Aunt Sally." GC sobs and ends up going home, twisting her hair until it breaks off. This is the same mom who forced same child to cut her hair short so that she wouldn't twist it.

Can you believe it? What is with parents? And remember that, not only does the child worry that Mom is ready to boot her out the door, she has to contend with the knowledge that younger sister is there to fill her place.

What the heck is wrong with people?

Regretting My Regrets

Today's post is a guest post by Martha, who blogs at momsoap.blogspot.com ...

Before Annika was born I had regrets. I regretted staying with my ex-husband as long as I did. Hell, I regretted ever marrying him. I regretted not finishing school sooner. I regretted financial decisions. I regretted not working out more. I regretted haircuts.

Then when I got pregnant I philosophized about how all those bad choices had led me to the place I was in the world and if I hadn't done things just exactly the way I had, maybe, maybe just maybe, Annika would never have been.

Instead of regrets, those bad choices were now stepping stones that led me to give birth to this beautiful and perfect child of mine. She is something I will never regret, not even if she turns out to be a drug addict or a serial killer. She will always be my beautiful perfect child.

But now I have something new to regret. And I wonder if I even should. Ever since I started blogging regularly, I have wished many times that I had started sooner.

When Annika was growing inside my body I had such powerful emotions and as a writer, I wanted desperately to capture it all and share it with the world. I was feeling emotions that I didn't even know existed.

Yeah, I'm one of those women. I loved loved loved being pregnant. Even with the weight gain, hemorrhoids (gross I know), heartburn, achy legs, nausea, tiredness, brain fog, and swollen feet (my god they were like grapefruits), I loved it.

A powerful life force inside of me burned with a fury and I couldn't get enough of the feeling. Carrying my child was spiritual and divine. I had found the meaning of life.

I would sit down and try to write but I could never really figure out how to express what I was feeling. It always sounded so cheesy. I would expound wildly about how my emotions were like the universe and the sun and moon and stars.

Then I would read it and go, "who is this person?"

Then I realized they were just hormones. Yeah, the same ones that give me bloating and crankiness once a month. Yep, those hormones. And no one tells you that they take a few months to dissipate after the baby is born.

I thought I would continue feeling that way forever. I thought that pregnancy had made me into a new woman.

And while that woman was a softer person who seemed to understand children better, was friendlier and happier, I had lost my edge. I worried that I would never be able to write the way I used to.

So the first few months after Annika was born I continued trying to write about those things that I wanted to share with the world, but they always ended up being too personal and really only things that I wanted to share with Annika.

Plus, I could never concentrate long enough to write coherently and do it consistently. I can barely manage it now.

As I analyze the past two and a half years I realize that what was most important was and is concentrating on Annika and just being a mom.

And maybe the reason I couldn't form coherent thoughts often enough to write consistently is because that my emotions being transformed onto paper were less momentous than Annika learning how to crawl or making baby noises like her first "words," 'Ab' and 'Way."

Maybe the reason that we moms become less physically desirable and lose some of previous desires, and become foggy and tired is because the universe is telling us that concentrating on our little one is the only thing that should matter right now.

Hmmm, maybe it's not just hormones after all.

____________________

Momsoap is written by Martha Wood, an attached, stay-at-home mama to Annika, who is 18 ½ months. Martha co-parents with Annika's dad, Toyin. Martha never planned to become a mom and shock of all shockers, she loves it. Momsoap opines about single-ish parenthood, childhood and just life in general. www.momsoap.blogspot.com

The Creativity of Children

My post today is today's blog post on API Speaks, Attachment Parenting International's blog.

I’m always amazed at the creativity of children ... which happens, frequently, in spite of my best efforts. Let me explain.

Sometimes I’m just too helpful for everyone’s own good. On those occasions when we have small day-to-day hurdles, my first inclination is to make everything better. Over the years, however, I’ve learned that the best solutions to these little life strifes is to let the kids work things out for themselves, with as much guidance as is needed, but only as much.

Like everyone else, I work to maintain family harmony. But when we have these little obstacles--and yes, we do have them (shocker!)--I try to remember that these opportunities allow my children’s stunning ingenuity to shine through. They remind me that if I just close my mouth and listen to what my children have to say, they’ll frequently astound me with their creativity.

Their ideas are fresh and honest and not shackled by memories of failures and expectations of future success. I find that I, by contrast, am hampered by constraints in my adult thinking, and if I simply let them brainstorm--and get the heck out of their way--the results are frequently startling and spectacular.

Case in point ...

Here in Texas we have a tax-free shopping weekend just before public school starts. I try to save up my shopping for the year and do it all in this weekend to take advantage of the sales that go along with it. Like many other people this year, we’ve been watching our pennies and stretching them as far as they’ll go without snapping.

This year’s shopping trip was pretty slim, since I was buying only essentials. Unfortunately, the hand-me-downs my 11-year-old daughter has thrived on in the past have run out, and she’s been inconsiderate enough to grow quickly, so she needed just about every item of clothing possible. We ended up buying just enough to get by, expecting that she’ll soon have outgrown these clothes too. Every choice she and I made was chosen with care and an eye to function and cost.

So imagine my dismay when, after spending a full day battling the shopping mobs (not something I do with gusto on the best day) and watching our bank account whittle down to token numbers, I found crumpled, discarded, and wadded up items of brand-new clothing scattered across the house.

(As an aside, I totally “get” that. I have fond memories of coming home after a similar shopping trip at a similar age and trying on every single item we’d purchased and leaving them strewn across my bed and floor - and of course, my mom getting mad. Sigh.)

You might think my first reaction was to talk calmly with my daughter about the importance of taking care of her new things, after which she immediately thanked me for my insight and proceeded to hang up her clothing with loving care and a skip in her step.

Um, no.

Instead, I started to fly off the handle--after all, we’d had this conversation a million times before, but it hadn’t stuck yet--and she began to get angry and dig in her heels. Well, I’d been down the Low Road of arguing before, and I didn’t much relish yet another journey. I stepped back, breathed, and asked her if she’d be willing to brainstorm with me. She was willing but a bit wary, since I have to fight my natural inclination to "solve" problems and make things cheery. She’s known me long enough to know that once in a great while I lose that battle and I force everybody to kiss and make up. (Hey, I’m not perfect.)

I laid out the reasons why I was angry--that I felt like my time and our money weren’t valued and thus, by default, that her dad and I weren't being respected--and asked her if those reasons made sense to her. Then I shut up. Really hard for me. Excruciating. I had all sorts of witty quips and clever solutions that I wanted to pronounce, proclaiming my mom-ish mastery of handling all things problematic.

But I shut up. She went away, ostensibly to think about it. Bad Mom figured she was simply avoiding the issue. I grumbled to myself and inwardly fumed, and Good Mom won out and vowed to give her some space. I was Keeping My Cool. Harrumph.

A bit later--not too much later--she came back. "Mom, I was thinking about it, and I have an idea of what I can do about the clothes."

Well, my mind went wild. I gleefully ran through all the ideas that I’d come up with, wondering which one of my clever solutions she’d arrived at on her own. Would it be to earn money in the future to pay for any new clothes herself? Would it be to simply offer a heartfelt apology, with the promise that she’d take better care in the future, and offer to do something for me in return? Could she ... no she couldn’t possibly ... suggest that I return the clothes--though that option had entered my mind too, as in "That’ll teach you!"

No, she was more clever than I.

"I think that what I’d like to do is buy the clothes back from you out of my allowance. That way I’ll appreciate them more."

Uh. Wow. Okay.

"Wow, honey. That sounds like a good idea," I said, pushing my lower jaw up with my hand, silently tallying up the amount she had in her allowance and realizing that she didn’t have anywhere near enough to cover it.

“Maybe I can earn extra money to pay for them over time.”

My thoughts whirled while my tongue twisted. Before she gave me her idea, I had envisioned all the finagling and compromising that would happen for us to come up with some sort of solution that would be agreeable to both of us. I remembered all the times that I’d proposed remarkably excellent strategies for working through problems, which often ... um ... shall we say ... fell flat with a resounding thud.

My daughter, studying.

Then I remembered all the varied solutions that did work with my kids. Invariably, those solutions were ones that the kids came up with themselves. The reason they worked was, for the most part, because the kids were invested in the solution. They weren’t being encouraged (read forced) to go along with something that someone else had instigated.

I’ve learned over the years that this seems to be the case in just about every aspect of our lives. If we have a problem--whether it’s two kids arguing over a book they want to listen to in the car or the whole family deciding if we want to go to visit grandparents over the weekend--the solutions that work the best are the ones that everyone feels that they’ve contributed to. If any of the kids think that they didn’t have a say in the decision, they’re much less inclined to be invested in the success of that decision.

How, you might ask, does this relate to attachment parenting? Think of the underlying theme behind each of the 8 Principles. What is it? Respect. Respect for our children as individuals--people whose opinions matter as much as ours, whose ideas are as clever as ours, and who want to be heard and respected just as much as we do.

When we were kids we didn’t like it when a parent, teacher, or other adult made global decisions that affected us without our input. Heck, we still don’t like it! But when we were young and small it was even harder, because the world around us told us in so many ways that we had no power. By giving our kids power over their environment, letting them come up with their solutions to their problems, seeing if those solutions actually work in the long term, and treating our children as individuals who deserve respect just as much as we do, we not only can alleviate some of the problems that arise but also help them to prepare to be thinking adults that are in charge of their lives.

So on my Good Mom days, I remember my own advice and sit back and zip my lips. As much as possible, I let my kids come up with their own ideas, which are frequently great, and we all reap the rewards.

As I’ve said before, some of my best parenting moments are when I’ve shut my mouth and listened. Not sure what that says about me, but who cares? It works!

So the clothes sit in my drawer waiting to be purchased, and my daughter visits them occasionally. Two of them have been retrieved, and the others are waiting patiently their turn. It’ll happen, and it’ll be without coercion, bribery, or threats. And that’s awfully nice.

The new-clothes drawer

________________

If you enjoyed this post, you might like Does Attachment Parenting Really Work?

Sunday's Gratitude Post

Boys. NICUs. Red-heads. High-energy kids. Micro-preemies.

Now teenagers.

Amazing how something so tiny can change your life

so drastically, so brilliantly.

G came into our lives 14 weeks early at 2 lbs, 5 oz.

Due in December, born in August.

The doctors allowed us to lay one finger on him

before they wheeled him into the NICU.

We could only touch him softly, for fear of his skin tearing.

We could see his heart beating beneath his skin.

All five of his fingers could fit inside my size-4 wedding ring.

This is the first day we got to hold him, on Day 7.

I sat holding my little kangaroo for hours at a time, day in and day out.

I watched other parents come and go,

but one of us was always there with our baby.

He burned with fierce determination and tenacity from the very beginning,

a trait that kept him alive then and that continues to serve him well today.

They called him "The Miracle Baby."

Never on a respirator, never on nasal prongs.

He nursed when only 30 weeks, remarkably early.

He was just tiny and needed to grow.

At 34 weeks, still 6 weeks premature, he came home -

eyes wide with wonder.

He continued to amaze us, reading at 18 months.

Here, at 11 months, he's picking out letters from the headlines

while having his cup of joe.

He wholeheartedly welcomed his little sister

when she came along a year and a half later.

They were best buddies - and still are (well, most of the time) -

along with their younger brother.

At two, he hadn't said "Mama" yet.

We wondered if he would ever speak.

But he would sit on the couch with us and read literally for hours at a stretch.

We were heartened by that affinity for words, which alleviated our fears.

At 3, he not only said, "Mama," but also just about anything else he wanted.

With great gusto. Often, and vociferously.

Always driven to succeed, he earned his Black Belt at age 10.

Again, his perseverance rose to the surface.

Still reaching for his goals, he attended the State-level

National Geography Bee for the second time this year.

Next year, he hopes to make it to Nationals, a dream he's had since he was 10.

He studies geography several hours a day.

Soccer, a past love of his.

On to bigger and better things now.

Finally, after playing for six years, he and his team won State.

Great to go out on a high note.

Now, a teenager.

Wow, where did the time go?

How do you adequately say you're grateful for something

that so radically changed your life that your entire being,

your complete world picture,

indeed the very physiology of your brain is changed forever?

For someone for whom you would willingly live for eternity,

die in an instant, and do it all over again?

This parenting gig is shaping me in ways I never imagined.

My children have taught me more than any school,

have guided me more than any teacher, and filled me more than any religion.

Once again, my life is changed, now that I'm the mother of a teenager.

The path before me is clearer than I ever imagined.

I just hope that I can walk it with the integrity and respect that my new teenager,

my daughter, my preteen son, and my dear husband deserve.

I'm grateful.

Happy Birthday, G.

_________________

If you liked this post, you might enjoy Does Attachment Parenting Really Work?

Getting off the Low Road

The Low Road ... the muck, the mire, the warm and sticky Low Road. We've all been there - whether we admit it or not - getting ourselves stuck in a situation with our children where we've said something or done something out of anger or frustration that we regret.

How do we repair our relationship with our child?

Oh, wait. You're surprised? Did you believe the myth that parents who follow attachment parenting are always patient and cheerful? That they happily follow their children from task to task, with a warm and positive attitude, always accommodating and unflappable? Yeah, right.

Maybe the books make it seem so. Maybe other AP parents make it seem so. I've heard lots of parents be turned off of attachment parenting because they think they're not "AP enough." What a shame!

Let's face it. We all have strengths, and we all have weaknesses. AP parents are not so different from mainstream parents ... we lose our temper, we get snappy, we clench our fists and sometimes - ugh - even yell. For some, any or all of these things happen rarely. For others of us - and well, uh, let's just say that I definitely count myself among these - they happen just a tad bit more than we'd like. Like every day. Like every hour. Or wait, maybe that's just in my head.

I'm not saying that walking the Low Road is okay or that it's appropriate. It's just, well, normal ... at least at times.

And here's a news flash to all the new AP parents out there: every one of those "together," laid-back, calm, and nurturing AP moms that you meet, even those who are legendary among AP circles for their wisdom and BTDT advice ... they've all walked the Low Road. Some have worn ruts in it up to their knees.

But ... and here's the key ... they've survived with their relationship with their children in tact.

How?

There are some simple rules that I follow to get me get off the Low Road and back onto high ground.

First, step away and remove yourself from the trigger. When I've done or said something I regret (like when I've flown off the handle after the 167th time in the last week that I've found the bread sitting out and getting stale), the first thing I do is walk away. I know myself well enough to know that sometimes that feeling of anger - that heat of the moment - feels good (yes, I said it, and most moms won't admit to it). I finally admitted this after years of talking with my oldest about his rages; he told me that it felt powerful to him to be in a rage state, and that confession clicked with me. Not the proudest thing to admit, but once I realized that, it made it easier to remove myself from a place of anger.

Second, when somewhat calmed, apologize. You'll be simply amazed at the power of the words, "I'm sorry." If you think that anger makes you feel powerful, think again. There are few things more powerful than opening yourself up to someone you love, showing your vulnerability, admitting your mistakes, and knowing that they'll forgive you and love you for who you are, not who you want to be. What's more, that apology sets an example, "allowing" your children to be imperfect and lovable in all their imperfections - and allowing them to apologize in the future, even when it's hard.

Third, explain. This goes hand in hand with apologizing. Your kids are probably relieved to see that you've calmed down and apologized, but they still may be wondering what was going on. What was going through your mind? A heartfelt explanation will help them make sense of the confrontation. "I'm so sorry that I blew my stack. I just get angry when yet another loaf of bread ends up stale because it got left out on the table. I shouldn't have yelled, and I apologize."

Fourth, listen. This is crucial. This is your big chance to hear what your kids really think, to see inside their hearts, and to learn their feelings. If you hear, "Why should I put away the bread, when you leave your clothes all over the floor?" then you know that there's a deeper issue than just forgetfulness. If you hear, "I'm sorry I left the bread out. I just forgot again." Then you know your child is trusting you with his honesty.

Listening is my most useful parenting strategy. I can't tell you how many times I've learned things I never would have imagined just by shutting up. On many occasions, what I thought was the real issue wasn't, and if I'd continued my "solution" to the problem, I never would have gotten to the heart of the issue. In my mind, I have to just zip my lips closed and swallow all those helpful retorts. It works wonders. I talked about this a bit in yesterday's post.

When you find yourself on one of those (hopefully few) journeys slogging down the Low Road, know that you can repair your relationship with your child. Admit you're human and thus imperfect, talk with your children, and move on. The only thing you don't want to do is ignore it. Your children will remember your effort at repair, or they'll remember your lack of effort. Which do you want remembered?

___________________

This post is part of the Attachment Parenting Month blog carnival, hosted by Attachment Parenting International. Learn more about how you can stay “Attached at the Heart Through the Years” by visiting API Speaks, the blog of Attachment Parenting International.

If you liked this post, you might enjoy What I've Learned As a Parent ...

Thanks to Alyssa for the idea for this post!

Photo by aussiegall from here

Tax Free Shopping ... or Taxing Shopping?

I'm not a shopper. I'm too cheap, nothing ever fits, I'm too picky, malls give me headaches, shopping makes my feet hurt, I hate having our country's over-the-top consumerism repeatedly blasting me in the fact all day, and the prices are way over my budget (did I mention that I'm cheap?). I find tax-free shopping to be anything but ... it taxes my patience and my sanity mightily.

But once every year I drag myself out with the other eager shoppers to tackle the stores during tax-free weekend. This is the weekend that the state drops its excessively high sales tax (which we have in place of a state income tax, and I'm not complaining!) for back-to-school shoppers. (Don't tell, but those of us who aren't going back to school take advantage of it too!)

Granted, the sales tax alone isn't high enough to warrant fighting the crowds, since I'd only be saving less than 9%. But lots of stores have large sales to entice people into their lairs, so that's worth it to me once a year to brave the shopping hoards.

So I just now got back home, at almost midnight, because many of the stores have extended hours.

I saw lots of moms with their kids, mostly older kids since that's the areas of the stores that I'm shopping in now. I guess I live in my own little bubble, because I'm constantly amazed at how much parents dislike being around their kids, and vice-versa. The moms were eagerly shopping, looking forward with glee to getting the kids out of their houses all day long starting Monday, and the kids were barely disguising their disgust for having to actually appear in public with their parents, much less to go shopping, because in their parents' presence the kids can no longer pretend that they were hatched or dropped from an alien spacecraft.

S and I spent several hours together this morning, walking from store to store with virtually no success at crossing things off our list, but we joked and kidded around and generally had a great time. The great time had to do with being together in spite of our mission.

I feel so sorry for those kids don't enjoy spending time with their parents, and I feel sorry for those parents who don't enjoy - or even know - their kids. Both sides are really missing out.

Who knows? I may be eating my words in a couple of years when one of my kids goes through that stage, but I certainly hope not. I'm doing everything in my power to make what most people think is inevitable be evitable (yes, it's a word ... I looked it up). Only time will tell.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy Beyond Babies.

Photo by lu_lu from here.

Difficulties of Attachment Parenting

Being an AP parent to one child is hard.

Being an AP parent to two children is even harder, and sometimes seems damned near impossible, because what worked with the first doesn't work with the second.

Being an AP parent to three children is easy, because by then you've given up trying to be the perfect parent, or even some distant resemblance to that parent you were sure you'd be, and you're just happy if your kid isn't crusty, smelly, or hungry. (Just kidding. It's still hard.)

Seriously, one of the hardest things for me about being attached is finding time to myself to recharge. I'm an introvert, and my alone-time is a necessity for my sanity (or at least what's left of it). But having one, two, or three children hanging on you every minute of every day and night is truly exhausting.

I honestly believe that the only AP parent who finds parenting a breeze has a doormat for a child. And if you're truly a parent who is conscious of the needs and desires of her child, then he/she can't possibly grow up to be a doormat!

Another terribly difficult thing about being AP to more than one child is that each child is different, and you have to relearn parenting with each one. What works with the first child probably won't work with the next, and what works with the third will be something completely different from either of the two previous things.

My children couldn't be more different. It's taken me years to learn how each of their brains works, and thus how to parent each of them effectively. And believe you me, it's tough sometimes trying to come up with something in one situation that works for all of them.

My "rule follower" is lost and distressed unless he has clear boundaries and guidelines to follow. My "free spirit" digs in her heels if I try to lay down the law with her. And my "life of the party" gets totally bent out of shape if I don't let him be completely independent - at least, that is, until he wants to be velcroed to my side.

If all this is discouraging, don't let it be. Attachment parenting - which basically means being respectful of your children and staying close to them - is worth it. If you're still not sure that it's worth all the effort over the long haul, read yesterday's post.

This post was actually a post that I wrote over four years ago, when G was 8 and T was 4. Funny, it's all still true. Fortunately, I now have the extra years to look back on it and say, "Whew! That was hard! But it was worth it." So many parents think that being an attached to young children is easy, while being attached to older kids is hard. But oh, man, these days life is so much easier.

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If you enjoyed this post, you might like What I've Learned As a Parent.

Does attachment parenting really work?

Does attachment parenting work, especially in the long run?

I hear this question and similar ones constantly.

"What happens when my kids get older?"

"I understand attachment parenting when my kids are young. But how will I know that my child won't be a mama's boy? Or so held fast by my apron strings that he won't leave home? Won't want to get married?"

"I understand about breast-feeding and co-sleeping and holding my kids close to me when they're young. But what happens when they go to kindergarten and elementary school? And what happens when they begin to play at other kids' homes, or hang out with friends, or go on dates and I'm not around?"

"How will I know that all this energy that I've put into attachment parenting will pay off in the long run?" That's the question, isn't it?

Let me tell you a little story. Once there was a impossibly small boy who screamed. He entered life at just over two pounds and fought from the first day. At two, he didn't talk. He didn't say "Mama." He toddled through life from day to day scared. He was terrified of the word no. He fought change desperately. Anything new, he hated.

He thrived on routine and consistency, and every day he had meltdowns. Not tantrums. Not 15-minute venting sessions. He had full-blown meltdowns, several times a day, sometimes as long as an hour and a half. He fought the world, because it was out of his control. His parents thought that there was a good chance that he would never leave home. Never go to college. Never get married.

They held him close, nurtured him, loved him, and did all the normal attachment parenting things: breast-feeding, cosleeping, responding to cries ... walking through the wee hours of the morning because he hated to be rocked and holding him while he screamed. Not knowing what the future would hold, but hoping for the best. Was it possible that his parents were causing him to be even more dependent on them than he already was? Was it possible that by not pushing him out of the nest and forcing independence he would never become independent? They didn't know. All they knew was that their little boy, their beautiful child, needed love and respect for who he was.

Fast forward almost thirteen years. That boy, once so tiny and clingy and desperate, today boarded a plane to Tennessee on his own with only his best friend by his side. In three days he'll return home again on his own - this time without even a best friend for company. This same boy - indeed, the beginnings of a man - is planning on hiking a section of the Appalachian Trail in two months and has been invited by an ambassador program to spend three weeks next summer in Europe, and he's planning on attending, with total strangers and with his parents across an ocean.

Does attachment parenting work? I can't say for sure that this child blossomed because of attachment parenting, because of being held and respected and loved unconditionally for who he was, for not being put down when he cried, and for not being ignored when he called out to his parents.

What I can say is that this child has exceeded by far every expectation of his parents, his doctors, and therapists. Today he is confident and self-assured and brilliant and just plain fun to be around. He loves to live, has great plans for the future, and has dreams he plans to fulfill. He talks about college, his future wife and family, and his plans for his life.

One thing I know for sure is that having his personality respected and his needs fulfilled when he was young certainly couldn't have hurt him. Having parents who responded to his needs has helped shape him into the person he is today, vibrant and full of life.

Were we, his parents, responsible for who he is? Certainly not. The credit goes fully to him. I simply like to believe that we gave him the best possible opportunity to develop and thrive. Had he been raised by parents who spank and humiliate and punish, he might well have turned out a very different person with a broken spirit. I'm glad we'll never know.

Does attachment parenting work? We're living proof.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy Great Expectations.

More on Consistency

This post was generated by the comments on yesterday's post.

Yes, consistency can be hard. It helps if you've established a track record, so that your kids know that there's nothing to be gained from whining and wheedling. If, in the past, you've caved after an extended period of whining, they know that they simply have to whine two seconds longer and you'll give in. That's not a judgment, mind you; it's a simple reality.

As Deepa said, no one can be a perfect parent or be consistent 100% of the time. Heck, I don't even strive to be perfect. I strive to be "good enough, most of the time."

However, I don't want to let it go. I want to work toward being as close to 100% consistent with my words as possible.

Maybe it's not as important to some children, but my kids' personalities demand that I mean what I say and say what I mean - there are different reasons why that's important for each kid.

There is so much in life that's out of our control: the economy, the environment, heck, the weather ... There seem to be precious few things that I can control absolutely. One of those things is my word. My ability to be someone that they can count on. My choice to be someone whom they can talk to and know - know - that what I say is true. They don't have to wonder or worry. That's one area of worry that I can completely eliminate from my children's lives.

Most people don't think that being consistent is that important. But I disagree, at least for my kids. Maybe it's not that important for some children. But for others, like mine, it's essential.

Some parents think that by giving in to their children's demands that they're doing something nice for them and their children should be grateful. They can't understand why their kids don't then appreciate them for their "gift." The thing they don't realize is that, in the kids' minds, they're not distinguishing good vacillation from bad. The parents think they're doing their kids a favor, while the kid just thinks that the parent is spineless. Even when a child is too young to realize it, they don't think, "Oh, how nice that Mommy let me gorge on candy before dinner even though she said I couldn't have any." Instead, they think, probably subconsciously, "All I had to do was scream a little louder this time and Mommy gave in. I can't really count on what she says, even when she says she really means it this time."

I think that most people see consistency as a nice goal to work toward, but not that important. Yes, it would be great not to have to argue with their children, but if the argument gets too heated, they just give in and the argument is over. After all, it's easier, right? In my mind, no, it's not easier.

Once a kid knows that you don't necessarily mean what you say ("I really mean it this time!" Sure, Mom.), the groundwork is laid for endless argument, negotiation, manipulation, and dare I say, disrespect.

Think of your friends. Have you ever had a friend who you couldn't trust to follow through? Maybe she was always thirty minutes late. Or maybe she'd show up most of the time when she agreed to meet you somewhere. Or maybe she promised to keep a secret but then let it slip ... but it's no big deal, it was just one mutual friend she told.

How do you think of that friend? Is she someone you'd go to in a crisis? What if you really needed someone to be there emotionally for you? Could you count on her when the times got really rough?

I don't want my kids to be asking themselves those questions about me, even if those questions are subconscious.

This may all sound harsh and judgmental. It's not. Not at all. It's just my take on this whole consistency thing. All I know is, I don't fight the battles with my kids that I see other parents face when they don't follow through on their word.

We fight other battles, neither harder or easier, just different.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy More on Natural and Logical Consequences.

Consistency Is Key

In my post last Wednesday, I proposed a scenario. You're standing in front of a vending machine and your child is throwing a tantrum. What to do? You vacillate between giving in and holding your ground. I gave you some options for responses - I was curious to see what most of you would do.

So, what was the correct option to choose? The right answer is ... drumroll ...

... it depends.

What did you think? That I'd actually know the right answer? Ha ha.

The truth is, the correct option depends on lots of things: the age of your child, the personality of your child, what your day has been like, what you've done in the past, what your child's current mental state is, and what kinds of things make your child feel secure.

Today I just want to focus on Option A. When you give in to your child's demands in the middle of the tantrum, why is it that you always feel so defeated and disrespected? Does your kid appreciate getting his way? Probably not. But why not? After all, you're giving him what he wants. Isn't that what all kids want ... their way?

As it turns out, most likely not.

Think about the life of a young child. What is their world like? A place of newness and mystery. Every day they encounter things that they've never before seen: new technology, new people, new social expectations. For some kids, this is a delight. They wake each day ready to tackle every new situation they come across, and do it with an enthusiastic smile.

But there's another entirely different type of child, one that some of us can't recognize immediately, especially if we're more the adventurous type. This child is one that sees life's newness as frightening and threatening. This child wakes each morning, wondering what new situation he'll encounter and fearful that he won't know how to respond. Yesterday, it was Mom expecting him to have a conversation with the cashier at the grocery store - a total stranger! - and the day before that it was Dad expecting him to go on a field trip with his class to someplace he'd never been before - and get there in a stranger's car (the parent of a classmate he doesn't even like all that much!) - and do it without Mom or Dad with him.

What'll it be today? Will he be expected to go someplace with lots of overwhelming noise and bright lights with tons of people? Will he be expected to play with other kids he's never met before? He may wake each morning on edge, waiting for that "thing" that will happen that'll throw him off track.

What this type of kid thrives on is consistency. That's all those things that so many adults think is limiting a child's creativity: schedule, routine, order. For this kid - and I know, because my oldest is just this sort - he flounders with spontaneity and thrives on routine.

So how does this relate to the vending machine incident? Look at what the parent is giving this child. She's saying one thing ("I'll buy you a snack, but it needs to be healthy.") and doing another ("Here. Have the damned Oreos."). The child simply can't know what to expect. Will my mom stick to what she said, or will she waffle? I can't count on her.

One of the main things I want from my kids is to trust me. I want them to know that what I say is what I mean - without a doubt. I want them to know that if I tell them something, they can count on me following through - whether it's something they enjoy or something they don't.

Of course, I'm not rigid or unreasonable. I always encourage them to give me good reasons to change my mind if I've said something they don't like ("no pizza for movie night this week" ... "but Mom, we haven't had pizza in a month, and here's a coupon!"). And I sometimes change my mind ("I know I said that we weren't going to get pizza for movie night this week, but I didn't go to the grocery store and I have a coupon"). And of course, if I'm forced by circumstances to not be consistent - say, if guests dropped by unexpectedly and we weren't able to have movie night - I always apologize and talk with them to work out an alternative solution.

My point is, I want my kids to trust my word and to find our home a safe, secure place that they know they can count on. Does that mean that they sometimes don't get what they want? Sure. Does that mean that sometimes I don't get what I want? Sure. But at least my kids know where I stand.

How would I have handled the vending machine incident? These days, it would be Option D. If they didn't have their own money, they'd have to live with what I'm willing to buy or go hungry. When they were younger, it would most likely have been Option C or E (depending on how far the tantrum had progressed and my patience lasted).

Was our house tantrum free when the kids were young? Good grief, no. (And some of those tantrums were thrown by my kids, not me.) We were Tantrum Central for years. It took me years to figure out, though, that many of those tantrums were caused by my child feeling out of control. By being consistent and providing a stable environment, I'm able to counter some of that anxiety.

One of my goals as a parent is to respect the personality of each of my children and to provide a home where they have stability and trust.

I can tell after reading this post that my thoughts are all jumbled up. I have a lot of ideas about consistency, high-needs children, and respect for individual personalities. I'll have to think about this and try to put my thoughts together better in another post.

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If you enjoyed this post, you might like Natural and Logical Consequences

Photo of cookie by Torben H from here