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Wednesday, April 11, 2012

I LOVE two!

I told him not to cross that string. And he didn't.

You know how I wrote the other day that we're smack in the middle of the "terrible twos"? LinkMaybe we were closer to the end than I thought. Or something.

Last Tuesday, I was at a friend's house. She has a daughter three months older than Marko. And she told me something very encouraging: "When she turned two, it was like a light switch went on. She's so much easier. She understands much more and can follow directions or wait for something." I thought, "Let's hope this happens to us, because seriously I am wanting to trade him to the gypsies and he won't even be two for another five days."

On Wednesday, things suddenly began to turn around. We went to the store together, and Marko was a delight. The rest of the afternoon, he was a little clingy, but not too bad. We read a lot of books, weathered one or two tantrums, and made it to the end of the day happy. I peeked into his mouth -- sure enough, it looked like those last two molars were pretty much through.

Thursday, he woke up happy and continued happy all morning. Then he got drowsy and climbed into my lap, where he fell asleep while I was on the phone with my mom. I decided to just let him sleep, even though he doesn't usually nap. Eventually I did have to wake him up. I lay down next to him and quietly jostled him awake. He sat up and started stroking my hair, smiling at me and saying, "Gentle pets, like this!" Not only is this HUGE for a kid who almost never wakes up from a nap happy, but I couldn't help thinking of last month ... you know, when he was crying "Marko WANT to hurt Mama!"

The rest of the day was a bit rough, because I had to take him with me to a doctor's appointment which lasted an hour* and then drive an hour and a half to pick up John from the airport. We were gone from home a total of five hours, and almost none of it was toddler-friendly time. But he was incredibly good at the doctor's office, even though there were hardly any toys in the waiting room and none in the examining room. I planned a brief stop at the park before going to the airport to smooth things over, and encouraged him through the 90-minute drive with reminders that we were going to the park. It was clearly very hard for him to stay buckled in that long, but he didn't cry. He just would ask plaintively, "Yes we are going to the park?" every five minutes or so. And when we hit a red light, he would ask, "Shall we keep driving?" (Yes, apparently this is how I talk to him. So weird to hear myself parroted back.) He held my hand in all the parking lots, went where I asked him to go, sat still on my lap in the airport, and was amazingly patient for the trip home, too.

Since then, he has been AWESOME. Sure, there's a meltdown here or there when he's getting tired. But nothing like how it was. And best of all, he's getting it. He's understanding what I tell him. When I say, "Please don't touch that," he puts the thing down and finds something else to play with. When I say, "Do you want to put this book on the shelf for me?" he gets all excited and runs to put it away. Not 100% of the time -- but often.

Language has taken a huge step forward, too. He parrots less and makes up more of his own original sentences. Sure, he still uses pronouns exactly backwards. (He calls himself "you," exclusively, never ever "I.") But I was reading to him today and pointed out that there was a monkey standing on the table in the picture. He said, quite disapprovingly, "He must not do that." I'm quite sure I never told him that. In fact, he never used to care much for the pictures in books, except perhaps to name individual items. Now, he likes to describe what is happening in each picture: "They are eating the cake," "That man has a balloon," or whatever. Sometimes he just repeats what I've said on previous read-throughs, but sometimes he really does come up with the whole thing himself.

I'm beginning to understand how Montessori works. I read a book full of Montessori activities a few weeks ago, and I just couldn't fathom how you would get kids to do them. Now, Marko very eagerly imitates the same sequence over and over again, usually after I show him how. Last night he happily collected every book scattered on the floor in the living room and made them into a neat stack. Then he ran back and forth to the kitchen, throwing away miniscule bits of trash I found for him. He's gotten into puzzles and likes fitting the pieces over and over. His attention span seems much longer than before. So I actually could see him doing some of the Montessori activities with that kind of determined focus that they talk about. Not that we are set up to do any of that here; I'm not that on-the-ball.

Is he suddenly an easy child? Well, no. He's kind of hyper sometimes. Today he spent quite a while dancing and jumping up and down with the dog while laughing hysterically and throwing his stuffed animals in the air. But it's a nice kind of hyper, not the kind where he buzzes around the room until he smashes into something and then cries hysterically. Which is what he was doing last week. This time, I think all we need is for the weather to warm back up so we can spend all day at the playground.

In any event, so far, I can honestly say, I LOVE two. I'm really enjoying my last weeks with Marko as an only child. I know I may have said this about other ages, but this, this is the best age.



*Dealing with the issue in this post. This doctor was incredibly helpful and immediately agreed to everything I wanted. The office staff was not pleased to have to do the referral for my insurance company, but they had to because the doctor told them to. So we might actually get some money back from the insurance company after all! Also, he sounds like he'll be a great doctor for the kids. A success!

(Meanwhile the first doctor's office, the one that was no help at all, sent me a bill for the visit and can't seem to explain why they didn't get my insurance company to pay for it. My insurance company says they never sent them a claim at all. I have been bouncing back and forth between the insurance company and the doctor's office for three days now and I am going NUTS because they won't talk to each other. Also, why does asking a doctor a simple question cost $159.38 anyway?)

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Hygiene? What hygiene?


Welcome to the April 2012 Carnival of Natural Parenting: Kids and Personal Care


This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama. This month our participants have shared stories, tips, and struggles relating to their children's personal care choices.






As my regular readers know, I was homeschooled until fourth grade. Then, in fifth grade, I found myself facing that impossible question: "How often do you shower?" Being, at that age, absolutely incapable of lying, and also well aware that this was a question intended to obtain more fodder to tease me with, I prevaricated a bit, but it was impossible for me to conceal the basic truth: I did not shower every day.

That's just not something you can get away with in modern America. Laura Ingalls Wilder bathed once a week. Queen Elizabeth bathed once a month. But Americans in the 21st century must shower every day.

Back in fifth grade, I took a shower every other day. My mom thought that was completely sufficient, since I wasn't all that stinky. When I was in boarding school, we all showered twice daily. Two showers a day for sixty girls means a lot of time and hot water -- so we were supposed to keep our showers to five minutes, preferably three. This put me off showers for quite a long time. I took a shower daily for years because "that's just what you do," but I hated it. Finally I started experimenting. Depending on the season, I discovered I could get away with bathing a couple of times a week, and washing my hair once a week. With fewer showers to take, I started taking my time and enjoying showers again.

What a relief that was. I smell fine, and if I feel sweaty, I can take a shower. But I don't have to take a shower every day. I just have to keep my personal hygiene a secret.

Until this moment. Now I just told the whole internet my dirty (haha) secret. One long, luxurious shower each weekend, and a bath or two with the toddler during the week. And I'm pretty sure I don't stink.

Anyway, it seems I'm raising my kid with the same hygiene habits as I have. He gets a bath when I notice he's dirty, or when he's having a bad day and I think he could use some bonding time with Rubber Ducky. So, a couple of times a week? When he was a baby, he got a bath every night because he loved them so much. And then we got out of the habit, and he got a bath every week because he really wasn't stinky or dirty. Once he started solid foods, we took a lot of baths just to get the avocado off. And now that he's a toddler, he tends to get baths when he's been playing in the dirt in the backyard.

Sometimes, though? *whispers* He plays in the dirt, gets all dirty, and doesn't take a bath. I notice when I'm putting his dirty feet into his pj's. Sometimes I get a wet rag and clean them off. Sometimes I just say, "Huh, guess we should make time for a bath tomorrow, kiddo." I mean, it's just dirt. I don't mind it.

Some people have asked, "How do you get a toddler to cooperate with getting his hair washed?" I always have to answer with a question -- how dirty is it, anyway? Just regular wear and tear? Then I don't bother. If it's got actual food in it or something (and it sometimes does) I might wipe it a bit with a washcloth. Sometimes he actually asks me to dump water on his head, so long as I'm careful to avoid getting any in his face (I have him look up at the shower head so the water will flow away from his face). But more often than not, Marko goes no 'poo ... and not only no 'poo but no water, either. (His hair smells lovely and is soft and silky.)

(On this subject, I don't usually use any soap on him. Little kids' skin is so sensitive, and water alone seems to get him squeaky clean if he marinates in it long enough ... and since he has stayed in the bath for an hour and a half without wanting to get out, there's no fear that he won't soak long enough.)

Toothbrushing? Oh, yeah, we do that. When I remember. When he cooperates. When I can find the cute little toothbrush and the fluoride-free toothpaste. I know I should do better about this. I'm a dental hygiene fanatic -- I have had enough cavities, braces, root canals, bridgework, and gum surgeries to last me the rest of my life, so I'm quite careful that I don't get any more of my own fault, anyway. And I know oral hygiene is especially important for kids. I don't give him sweets, I try to limit starches, and I make sure he gets plenty of calcium. It's just that brushing a kid's teeth is not such an easy job. It's taken months of effort to get him to cooperate at all!

To brush his teeth, I need a cute, tiny toothbrush. He would not accept the big ones, and if he got my electric toothbrush, he loved to play with it, but not put in his mouth. So I had to go to the store and buy a tiny toothbrush ... which he gave to the dog and which ended up a shredded mess, so I had to do it again. This time I got a four-pack. I also need the baby toothpaste. I got a kind with no fluoride and with xylitol, which I hear is good. And I need the Song. There's a certain song about brushing teeth which seems to be about someone with OCD who is compelled to get up in the middle of the night and brush their teeth, every hour on the hour. Anyway Marko loves it. So we have a deal: when I am actively brushing his teeth, I sing the song. When he pushes the toothbrush out, grabs it from me, or clamps down his jaws, the music cuts out until I can start brushing again. It works pretty well. I wouldn't say we do a full two minutes. But I do get every tooth at least a little.

That's about all the hygiene that ever happens around here. Hope I am not completely embarrassing myself by revealing this. But my hope is that a few other people might admit to the same transgressions, and maybe even chime in, "You know, there really IS no reason to shower every day!" Either that, or that you all agree to still be friends with me, on the grounds that, since it's the internet, you're never going to have to smell me.


***


Carnival of Natural Parenting -- Hobo Mama and Code Name: MamaVisit Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!


Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:


(This list will be live and updated by afternoon April 10 with all the carnival links.)




Monday, April 9, 2012

I only know my child

I was obsessing over my blog the other night to John. I was saying, "I just want to share the things I've learned -- but I'm afraid I sound like I'm trying to set myself up as a parenting expert -- and what do I know?" He said something very wise: "I don't understand why mothers keep lecturing and advising and comparing and trying to tell each other they're doing it wrong. Kids aren't cars. There's no manual, and every single one is completely different."

How right he is. What works for my son might be a disaster for yours. What finally cured your child's problem could make (what looks like) the same problem in mine worse. I'm reminded of this over and over, as I tell on my blog what I've learned, and people comment to say, "No offense intended, but I did the exact opposite of what you say and it worked great." Really, it's no surprise. Why shouldn't something totally different work for a totally different child? Even with the same child, the two different parents may find totally different things work. For instance, I never teasingly tell Marko not to do something as part of a game, because I'm afraid he wouldn't be able to distinguish between "Oh no! Don't tickle me!" and "No, I'm really serious, don't hit." But John does, and he uses such a markedly different tone of voice for each that Marko doesn't seem to have any trouble telling which is which. I'm not sure I could do that, but he can.

I have a lot of strong opinions, mainly based on my goals. Our parenting choices arise from our goal of what we want our children to become. I have a lot of goals for my son, like "be a person of faith," "have healthy relationships," "be a generally happy person." John has just one main goal for him, "be an independent thinker." These goals inform our choices. Because I don't want him to be a driven high-achiever (unless he wants to be), and because I don't want him to develop a slavish sense of obedience or deference to authority (because we're such revolutionaries in this house), the methods that achieve these goals don't sit right with me. I am not interested in making him practice piano for hours, a la Tiger Mother, to make him a high achiever. And I don't want to force him to outwardly agree with me and defer to me at all times, because I want him always to challenge the status quo and use his own brain. It's hard for me to be accepting of those who are seeking different goals, because it reveals such a different worldview. And yet I have to acknowledge that, if you are seeking a different goal from mine, it's no wonder you will do different things than I do.

Meanwhile, even if you do have the same goals as I have, you might take a different route to get there and still be right. Your kids are different. You are different. Your home is different. Your life looks a lot different! And yet, whenever I get bogged down in what I do and what I think and how could other people possibly do something different and have it be okay, I remember one thing. I have a number of very close friends whom I admire very much. With one exception, they all think their parents did a good job raising them, and they maintain close relationships with their families. They are in healthy relationships, are independent thinkers, are people of strong faith -- everything I want my children to be when they grow up. And yet, when I took a brief, informal survey of parenting methods at a party one night, I got everything across the board -- from hands-off to hands-on, from free-range to intensive attention, from tiny families to huge ones. They attended a variety of schools. And they all turned out great. Is it such a stretch to imagine that their children, and the children of other people I know, will all turn out great, too? Simply having loving parents who are making their parenting decisions mindfully gives a child an enormous leg up over the "average."

Kids are so different, it's hard to generalize anything. Kids aren't even the same as themselves from day to day. They pass through stages like lightning. So if I can't even make a generalization about my child without qualifying it with "at the moment" -- realizing, of course, that six months ago this would never have worked, and six months from now it will probably have outlived its usefulness -- obviously I can't really talk about other people's kids.

That doesn't mean what I'm doing here, and what we all do when we compare parenting stories and give each other advice, is useless. We're just sharing wisdom. True, my wisdom may not apply to you. But maybe it could give you an idea. That's all we're doing, giving each other ideas and swapping tips. I find it incredibly helpful to listen to other parents and read parenting books, because they inspire me. Hearing from one veteran mom, "I never raised a hand to my children, and they all turned out wonderful," does wonders to encourage me that not spanking won't create a monster. And hearing from another, "I did the opposite of what you do, and my child still gave me a really hard time at two," helps me take a deep breath and realize that not everything my son does is a result of my terrible parenting. But I take it with a grain of salt, and I hope you do, too, when you read what I say here. I have my opinions and my stories and my advice ... but it might not work at all for you. But it may help you, one way or another, to hear that it does work for me.

So, I'm going to keep running my mouth about what I think on here, but please do keep that in mind: I only know my child. I don't know yours. I'd love to hear what you did with yours and how it was the same or different. I'm not sitting behind my computer screen, judging you because you did something different. I'm just picking up whatever wisdom in what you say might be applied to my own situation. And I'm marveling in the way loving parents can find a multitude of ways to pour that love out on their children ... because, you know, that's what you're doing. It's a beautiful thing to watch.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Marko is two

Can you believe it?

One hour old

Four days old


Three weeks old


One month old


Two months old


Three months old


Six months old


Nine months old


One year old


Eighteen months old


Today

How long did it take you to scroll through all those pictures? Yeah, that's about how fast these two years have gone by. Sniff.

Parenting books

I love parenting books. First off, I just enjoy reading them. I love kids, and I love reading about them. Second, I learn a lot of useful tips, even from the books I disagree with. And third, I consider it part of my professional development. If my occupation is to mother my children, well, by golly, I'll be the best at it that I can be. I'm not content just to muddle my way through; I'd like to do better. My job is at least as important as any other job there is. I'm raising the next generation. I take that very seriously.

So when I come up against a topic, whether it's parenting-related (like spanking) or based on another one of my interests (like garden tilling or gluten or whatever else), I research the heck out of it. I want to know every possible angle and point of view. Of course I come at it with my own biases, but I try to give every point of view its fair hearing. Then I try what seems right to me. Sometimes it works fabulously and I think, "Wow, so glad I read that book and tried this!" Sometimes it backfires horribly and I think, "Gee, I guess the guy who wrote that book didn't know what he was talking about. Or it just doesn't work for my situation." And I try something else until I find something that works well. Throughout the process, I also listen to my instincts and common sense.

This process can take months. And at the end of it, I really feel confident in my decisions. I don't find myself shaken up by the judgments of others, because I feel like I know what I'm talking about. I've become as close to an expert as I can be.

And then, invariably, I state my opinion about something and am met with a scoff. "I bet you got that out of some book." In one sentence, all of my work and effort and knowledge are completely dismissed, usually by someone who doesn't know the first thing about the topic. Of course ignorance doesn't stop anyone from having an opinion. I don't think it should. Especially when it comes to child-raising, I don't think you have to read books to know how to do it. But on the other hand, I don't think having read books disqualifies me from knowing what I'm talking about.

I mean, imagine I'm talking to an astrophysicist. He is trying to explain string theory to me, and it just makes no sense. It seems obvious to me that the universe doesn't work that way. I may be right, in fact. But is it any argument to say, "Oh, I bet you got that out of some book"? When you're writing a doctoral dissertation, you're expected to cite your sources. Everything is supposed to be out of some book. But with parenting, it's somehow considered superior never to have cracked one.

I love to listen to grandmas who've never cracked a parenting book. I don't even mind listening to single people with no kids tell me what they think. You can learn a lot that way. But yes, I am insulted when the second I say, "Well, statistically speaking, they've linked that approach with psychological damage," the answer is, "I suppose you could have a study about anything." Or worse, "You read that on the internet, didn't you?"

Um, yeah. I do research on the internet. That's kind of what you do in the 21st century. When Marko broke out in spots, I did some googling and quickly realized it was probably roseola. But, not wanting to be "one of those parents" who diagnoses their kid on the internet and ignores potentially dangerous diseases, I took him in to the doctor. The doctor took one look at him, said, "It's roseola," and gave me a printout on roseola ... from WebMD, where I'd just been. The internet is where people go to find sources that they used to find at the library. (Of course I read print books at the library too.) As an added bonus, I get to hear personal experiences of other moms ... who are, for the record, no different from moms I might meet at the playground. But do people say dismissively, "Oh, you probably heard that from some other mom whose kid has the same problem"? No, because everyone knows other moms are a good source of advice. Unless they have blogs. Then they're just my imaginary friends.

I'll admit it, I'm a bit defensive of you guys, my bloggy friends. I learn a lot from you and I hate to hear you getting dismissed as "just some wacko on the internet" when I bring in a lesson I learned from one of you.

Maybe it's just my pride. I want to be considered the resident expert on parenting because I read so many books. On the other hand, I wonder what it's going to take for people to think I know what I'm talking about. I'm not asking for other parents to consult me on their kids. But I wish they'd at least give me credit for knowing a little bit about what might be best for my kid. I don't think reading Dr. Sears disqualifies me from that.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

What is coercion?

A prisoner is being tortured to give up vital wartime secrets or sign a false confession. Eventually, he realizes he has to give in -- but when he sits in the chair indicated by his captors, he moves it an inch to the right. It's his way of preserving his own sense of freedom and his belief in his free will.

Meanwhile, a six-year-old is being kept in time-out until he will say sorry. It's been an hour and he finally gives in. But he will only say it in the world's quietest voice. His parents send him back until he can say it "like he means it."

The two situations are very different. One is truly "cruel and unusual" while the other one is just a time-out. But the goal is the same: to force someone to do something they strongly do not want to do. One person uses some form of punishment to override another person's will in the hopes of making it choose what they want it to choose.

I don't believe in doing this to kids. It just rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it helps that I have a very good memory. I remember exactly how it felt to be put in situations like this. It was like being between a rock and a hard place. My own sense of morals and self-respect demanded that I follow through with what I had said I would do. If I'd refused to say sorry, I had to stick with it or I was being dishonest and inconsistent. I knew I would hate myself for saying it, if I gave in, and I felt kind of like a hero for not doing it. But at the same time, I also knew I was supposed to obey my parents. I wished so hard they had asked for something different, or asked in a way that would let me save face. Instead I would eventually give in, but with my own twist: I could say sorry quietly, I could write it instead of saying it, I could say it in a tone of voice that would make it clear I didn't mean it. That way I could live up to my own convictions and get out of time-out sometime before I turned eighteen.

What seems odd to me is that parenting books that go on and on about how coercion is bad still tend to recommend tactics like this. Parenting With Grace, which I otherwise enjoyed, recommends a time-out procedure that includes never getting out until the child re-does to the parent's satisfaction whatever they did wrong. I'm sure there are lots of compliant children who would wait out their time and then do what their parent asked, because they asked it. But the "strong-willed" kids, like me or my siblings or my son? We would stay in that time-out for ever, and if we ever capitulated, we'd hate ourselves and our parents for it. That anger would end up coming out in other incidents later in the day or the week, and our parents wouldn't know why we had so much bitterness stored up.

(As far as I remember, this didn't happen all that often. My parents didn't often try to go toe-to-toe with me, and anyway I did try to please them in general. And my vaunted willpower that I was so proud of usually caved after ten minutes of time-out. Time-out was the worst punishment for me. I hated it so much. Spankings weren't so bad, because once they were over, they were over, even if you didn't say sorry.)

Now I'm not saying coercion is equivalent to torture, or that it's immoral, or that it makes you a bad parent. I just think it's counterproductive. Don't we want to raise children who would withstand torture rather than give up their faith or tell where the Jews are hidden? Don't we want our kids to listen to their inner voice over any outer voice that tries to pressure them into something that they know is wrong? Besides, coercion inspires so much anger and bitterness. Kids of all ages consider it a virtue to stand up to someone who tries to coerce them. If they can't manage that, they'll try to get back in other ways. There's no winning once you get into that kind of battle. Either you lose it, or you find yourself in a full-fledged war.

So what sorts of things count as coercion?

*Spanking a child until they confess to something. Yes, even if you know they did it. (Much worse if you later turn out to be wrong!)
*Making a child repeat, word for word, a phrase we think they should use until they do it in the tone we want.
*Repeating a punishment over and over until some magic word is said or action done. Of course, with spanking or withholding food or shutting out in the cold, this could be terribly dangerous, as well, and we've seen that in some recent child-abuse deaths. The punishment was to continue until the child "gave in" -- and the child's will was, in a few cases, stronger than their life. It doesn't matter how minor the original issue was. For the child, it's a question of their personal integrity, and they completely lose sight (as the parents seem to have) of how minor an issue it is.

Pretty much any time you say, "I will keep doing X to you until you do Y," you are coercing a child. On the other hand, logical or natural consequences don't seem coercive to me. I'm thinking of things like this:

*I will not pick you up if you are hitting me.
*Until those chores are done, we won't be going to the store.
*As long as you have no pants on, we are not going outside.

It's still an "until" kind of thing. I spent an hour with Marko once trying to get him to put his pants on. Sure, I could have just grabbed him and stuck his pants on. But I thought I'd give him a chance to learn about choices, so I said, "We will go outside when you are wearing pants. If you are not wearing pants, we will stay inside." It took him about an hour, during which he cried occasionally, but mostly just played with his inside toys, until he came up to me and asked for his pants.

It just doesn't seem like coercion to me because he had a choice, and both choices were okay. Playing inside naked was okay, and playing outside with pants was okay. I didn't insist he say or do a certain thing a certain way ... I just wanted to let him play outside without flashing the entire neighborhood. (Not that it would shock them, at this point.) I was trying to make a framework in which he could exercise his will freely, but only in ways that were acceptable to me. So I was limiting his will, but not forcing it one way or the other.

The same goes for the hitting thing. Up with no hitting and down are both viable options. I'm not trying to control him, but trying to respect myself. I can't let myself be hurt, so I have come up with two ways for him not to hurt me: down, or up while being gentle.

Meanwhile, when trying to teach something -- and this is more with older kids, like my students -- I try to leave an "out." In other words, I leave a way for the child to cooperate with me while saving face. For instance, if they ask for something in a rude way, I say, "Gee, that sounds rude. Can you try another way?" I might suggest another way, but anything they come up with that isn't rude is fine. If they can't come up with a way that isn't rude, I just say, "Well, I just don't feel like doing that for you when you ask that way. Why don't you try again later?" Putting it off till later gives the child a chance to think of a better way to ask, get out of the rude mood they're in, or maybe even decide they don't want what they originally asked for. (And that's fine too.)

Sometimes, especially when I feel the child didn't know they were doing something wrong, I don't correct at all. I just say, "Sure, I will do that for you. Next time, though, you should try a more polite way, like 'Please would you sharpen my pencil?'" In other words, I don't bother trying to fix this time. They did their best for this time, but they get a suggestion for next time. That way, they have a chance to learn the right way without ever being "wrong." I mean, wouldn't it be awful if the only way to learn a math problem was to do it wrong first? Wouldn't we rather be shown how first, and then have the test? A wrong answer can really make you feel dumb, even after you learn what the right answer is.

It just seems to me that, even if you are giving a child a consequence for something, it's much better to just give the consequence and let it speak for itself than require a behavior change immediately after. Punishment makes you feel bad. Right after one isn't a good time for learning. You don't feel like cooperating, so you do it in the least cooperative way you can. I'd rather just punish a child for hitting and then let him get back to playing than try to force him to apologize. (Though my usual method is just to separate the child so he can't hit anymore.) That way a consequence is really a consequence -- a result of past action -- rather than a form of coercion, intended to derive some further action. Kids aren't dumb. They can still use the experience of the unpleasant consequence to shape their actions next time. But they can do it on their own time, in their own way, with their own will.

What do you think? I picked a harsh word, "coercion," because I don't see another word that quite fits what I'm trying to describe. Even so, is this something you do or would do? What do you do instead?

Monday, April 2, 2012

History and parenting

Parenting has changed a lot throughout history. Of course, the historical context has affected the way people parent. But I rarely hear about how the way people parent has affected history. Wouldn't that make a great book to read? Think of how the Roman consul had his two sons put to death for treachery. Surely an attitude of "state before family" affected every Roman child. Meanwhile wealthy British children of the 19th century mostly went to boarding school. What effects might this have had on English policy once those aristocratic boys grew up to become members of Parliament?

Hunter-gatherers were known to be extremely indulgent parents, who expected children to teach themselves and left them to it. Their society was egalitarian and pretty much anarchical. In feudal times, children were expected to be obedient and dutiful. Their society was in a strict hierarchy, without a lot of freedom for anyone. Which is the cause, and which is the effect?

I read in Parenting With Grace (an interesting book; review to follow ... eventually) that someone thought to do a background study on the way Germans under the Nazis were parented. They found a very deep divide. The German custom of the time was very strict parenting expecting "first time obedience" with no back talk, and utilizing frequent corporal punishment. Those who were raised this way tended to grow up to collaborate with the Nazis. Among those who objected, joined resistance groups, or saved Jews, it was found that almost all of them were raised in households considered very "lax," where they were allowed to question their parents' orders and where they were rarely spanked, if at all. The apparent conclusion is that those who are raised to be obedient will continue to be so as adults; those who are raised to question authority will do so when they grow up.

This all gets me thinking about the huge changes in parenting in the past century. I keep hearing of how awful the 20th century was, how huge a shift in culture there was, and yet no one seems to have an adequate explanation for why, after the "perfection" of the 1950's, all those Baby Boomer kids ran out and experimented with sex, drugs, and rock and roll. In fact, no one seems to adequately explain the Baby Boom at all.

Try this on for size: the 1940's and 50's were when formula feeding became the norm. Breastfeeding went so far out of style as to be considered something only the impoverished would do. Formula was sterile, doctor-approved, and could be given by the nanny while Mom was out being Rosie the Riveter.

At the same time, birth was completing its shift from home to hospital. More and more, women were turning to doctors and books to learn how to raise their babies, rather than their mothers, because it was doctors and nurses who surrounded them in their first days of motherhood, not family. Mothers were told to raise their children on strict schedules and ignore their crying -- something which perhaps had been suggested before, but for the first time, mothers listened and obeyed.

The first result I can see is that all of a sudden, probably quite unexpectedly, women lost the natural child spacing they were accustomed to. Maybe they didn't know that breastfeeding helped space babies out; but surely they noticed that they were getting pregnant a lot more often. Family size exploded. The assumption is always that the birthrate rose because people wanted more babies -- but I'm pretty sure that a lot of people didn't use birth control back then. Babies just happened, and suddenly they were happening a lot more often. (I'm not saying they minded.)

The second result was a generation that had no desire whatsoever to follow in their parents footsteps or make their parents happy. They suffered from a profound disillusionment about everything their parents said and did. Can it be from a lack of attachment in infancy? Who can say?

I'm always told, generally by baby boomers, "These kids nowadays, they never behave. Back when we were kids, in the 50's, we had to do what we were told or get a smack. And we grew up great." Well, maybe. But weren't they also the world's first rebellious teenagers?

Each generation since has been parented a bit differently. Gen-Xers are likely to have been latchkey kids. What common traits does this generation have, and what in their upbringing might have contributed to that? As for my own generation, it's a mixed bag. Ditto for the one being raised today. We are increasingly unlikely to believe either our pediatrician or our mother -- instead, we read a wide variety of sources to try to decide how we want to parent. Attachment parenting is on the rise, but so are a number of other schools of thought (tiger mothering, French parenting, helicopter parenting, fundamentalist Christian parenting). I personally parent pretty much how my parents did, because I like the way I was raised. Many other parents who share my philosophy are doing the opposite of what their parents did, because they don't like how they were raised.

The book Our Babies, Ourselves maintains that each society maintains rules for child-raising based on its values. They seek to raise children who will adopt the values of the society they live in. What are the values modern Americans want to instill in our children? Independence, interdependence, obedience, love of liberty? Clearly we don't all agree on what "product" we want to turn out. But we should be looking at history and trying to figure out what parenting habits produce what product. Then perhaps we'd have some idea how we ourselves should raise our children.

This is just a rambling list of ideas about how history and parenting affect one another. Wouldn't you just love a book on this topic, by someone who knew more about it than I do? What do you think about my hypotheses?
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