If I'm a Bad Parent, So Are You.

"Bad parenting" is easily noticed at parks. (Watch for it.) 


Maybe it started because I was a young mom.

There's something about being nineteen and poor and unwed and pregnant that can give a girl a bit of a complex. As much as I didn't want to admit it, the idea of falling into the stereotypical representation of my demographic terrified me. And when I held little Intrepid in my arms for the first time - all 10lbs, 6oz of him - I had two main thoughts run through my head:

1. He's absolutely perfect.
2. Don't fuck this up, Maven.

And so I spent the next several years trying to prove something to everyone and anyone I thought might care: I am a good parent.

It started off pretty well. I was a shining example of a new mom. For example, despite his colic, I didn't shake him even once. Gold star for me. And when the internet exploded and special interest parenting pockets sprung up everywhere, I quickly identified with the "attachment parent" mentality: Breastfeeding? Co-sleeping? Baby-wearing? All the boxes were neatly checked off. Now I wasn't only a good parent, but a trendy good parent. Awesome sauce.

Unfortunately, things got a little more complicated as he got older. There was that whole "having a mind of his own" thing that cropped up more than once. No idea where that came from. He found this annoying little word - "NO!" - and started using it all the time, rather loudly, and particularly in busy restaurants or in line at the grocery store. And he decided he would do stuff that I always insisted in my childless years that my kid would never do because I would be a great mom. He would whack me in the face at Christmas dinner in front of a gasping family audience, and pull my hair on the bus, and kick other children at the book store...Fun times.

And then we got this ridiculous idea to "grow our family" and decided we should have two more of these little scream balls. The cycle continues.

I just don't understand why these kids think it's okay to think for themselves, like they're little people, or something. Don't they see that their desire to be independent makes me do things like raise my voice and say stupid things and do totally immature stuff like lock myself in the bedroom and scream into my pillow and write vent-y blog posts?

Why my kids couldn't just be the perfect little automatons is beyond me. 

Anyway, by the time our third gremlin hatched, I had thrown in the towel and gave up on earning any type of parenting award. Obviously I had done something horribly wrong. From where I was sitting, other parents were doing a fantastic job. I would see a happy family going for a walk, or a child listening to mom or dad at the beach. It must be like this for them all the time, I decided. And therefore I was a complete and utter failure who should hang up her parenting apron - or whatever parents wear; maybe a puke guard or a goalie mask or whatever.

And then something really neat happened. One day, I ever-so-carefully lifted the delicate veil of denial I had been wearing and saw things for what they really are. And what I realized is, you're not any better at this parenting crap than I am. I don't know why I hadn't seen it before, but it was so obvious once I paid attention.

Nobody is that ideal parent.

Not a single one of you.

And that makes me feel damn good.

Last night I took Spawnling and Gutsy to the park to meet up with a friend. She's a seasoned pro like I am. We both have three boys under our belts and a whole lot of chaos running wildly through our homes. We have both used empty threats, such as "I'm leaving now, and there's no one else here! So if you're not coming with me you're going to be all alone. Ok, bye!"

You know those empty threats. You make them too.

Our goal last night was simple: Take the kids out just before bedtime and let them run wild. Parenting rule #22: Wear them out, hard.

The park was full of other children; a veritable cesspool of dirty knees and tangled hair and sweaty foreheads. My boys were running wildly, stopping only for brief sips of water before taking off again. They kicked their shoes off despite my objection, and, on more than one occasion, strayed well off the sand and pavement to explore rocky terrain and unidentified ground plants at the risk of injury and/or some kind of skin disease. Gutsy brought a toy gun. I had asked him not to and he had insisted, so I told him to leave it in the van. Half an hour in, I noticed him running in between bushes, pretending to fire it at bad guys with the younger, more impressionable kids in tow.

I wondered what the other parents would think.

And then I stopped wondering about 2.8 seconds later.

See, I remembered that I don't care anymore. I'm not out to prove anything to any of you at this point, other than I can manage to keep my gremlins breathing, fed, clothed and tremendously loved. It is my hope that I will raise them to be upstanding, incredible adults. But there's really no way to ensure that, and there's certainly no need to try and put on a show for any of you in the meantime.

My boys have no shoes on and could cut their feet open, and they're playing with pretend weapons. They're hot and moody and not listening to me terribly well. But guess what? You probably don't care all that much, because you're too busy dealing with your hot, moody child who isn't listening to you very well right now, either. And maybe has left his or her sandals under the swings next to my child's, and is chasing after him trying to get that gun.

And as my friend and I started mingling with other parents, we got on the topic of toy weapons and defiance and all those other things we said our kids would never do/play with/be like. There was a great deal of laughter. One mom was relieved to hear that it was not bad parenting that had suddenly turned her preschooler into a little demon, but the stage I lovingly refer to as "the fucking fours."

I walked away an hour later, corralling my kids into the minivan as one screamed and the other whined, and felt damn good about things. It seems experience in berating myself for my own would-be poor parenting is paying off through sharing the big secret to being a perfect parent: there are no perfect parents. 

Moral of the story as you take your own kids to the park today: Don't be too hard on yourself. We're all in this together.

Now I'm one of THOSE Moms (Part 2)

Handle With Care

It took me a week to write this post. I'd apologize, but I don't need to. I have children. That's all the excuse I need right there. If you require further explanation as to why this would interfere with my blogging, it's probably because you don't have kids. Some days I might understand your ignorance. Other days I might just want to shoot spitballs at the back of your head for having all that free time.

Anyway, last week I wrote about a most terrible day and ended it with a promise to write a little about a talk I went to through our local school board. Well, I wrote a lot more. You're getting both quality and quantity. It's like Christmas for you.

The talk was given by a psychologist by the name of Eva de Gosztonyi, who is credited by yours truly as the person responsible for shifting our parenting in a very positive direction. I was so impressed by last year's talk (which was, like this year's, primarily based on the book Hold on to Your Kids by Dr. Gordon Neufeld) that I had to go up and thank her like a creepy fan. And, like a weird stalker person, I told her that she should speak to parents full-time because she has mad workshop skills and a good message that cuts through the thick fog of parental overload.

Not that I, the mother of three perfect little darlings, would know a thing about parental overload.

Parenting is a lot like a garden, we were told. We tend to our children's needs and they grow. Some kids are more like dandelions or daisies: pretty resilient to changes in routine, various types of discipline, and what have you. Our kids? Well, as parents on the school board's Special Needs committee, our kids were likely more the orchid type. And orchids, if you aren't aware, are far more delicate flowers. As I was contemplating the blooms in my own family, I couldn't help but think that Gutsy is sometimes more like a bonsai tree that we're forever carefully tending.

(Next, I will learn to catch flies with my chopsticks.)

Like most parents, I'm always being given advice by well-meaning friends and family. I hear a lot of the same things over and over. I know they're trying to help, but they must think we're living in a box in the middle of the desert with no library or TV or internet connection, because these are some of the regular suggestions I get:

"Maybe you should just try being more firm with him." Really? Gosh, I never thought of that before. I've only been parenting for fourteen years, so I guess the idea of being in charge hadn't crossed my mind until just now.

"Have you tried putting him in his room when he misbehaves?" That's genius! Why have I never thought of that before? Is it a new technique? How up-and-coming.

"Try taking away something he likes. Every child has his currency." Nice use of the word "currency." You obviously watch Dr. Phil. Me, too, and guess what? I've given that same advice to other parents using the same trendy word, all the while thinking it just has to eventually work with my kids because Dr. Phil says so. (Please try putting cameras up in my house, Dr. Phil. You'll need to write a whole new parenting book after this one)

Gutsy is not your typical child, so typical parenting doesn't work with him. Believe me, we've tried - consistently. It might work alright with Intrepid (daisy) and somewhat with Spawnling (rose bush), but not at all with the middle gremlin (bonsai-orchid hybrid).

We have an entire shelf dedicated to parenting books. I'm sick of reading them and beating my head against the doorframe when their advice doesn't work. With a special needs child - whatever that special need (or needs) may be - many general parenting techniques go out the window.  In Gutsy's case, we have anxiety, hearing loss, and poor sleep. And yes, poor sleep can be a huge factor in behaviour, as I'll explain in a bit. But parents of spectrum kids, delayed kids - all kinds of atypical kids - know that behavioural challenges can be a huge part of the package. And there are kids with no other challenges besides extreme behaviour, but in my opinion that's a special need in itself. Don't kid yourself; it impacts the entire family, it can break apart marriages, and it has far reaching consequences for the child and his or her family.  What I'm learning is that if trendy, widely-used discipline methods aren't working, it's not my fault. I am not a bad parent, just a mom who needs to change the playbook.

Our children - the ones who march to a different beat - are orchids, roses and bonsai trees. The sooner everyone realizes that parenting needs to be as individual as the child being parented, the better.

(Now I'm one of those moms who's ranting. I'll hop off the soap box and get on with what I learned at the presentation.)

As is probably obvious by now, I am very skeptical of anyone wanting to give me suggestions on how to parent more effectively. I never used to be that way, but hundreds of failed attempts at controlling the situation have left me raw and jaded. So, when I first sat down to hear Ms. de Gosztonyi speak, I was only just desperate enough to stay seated. I figured I would just hear more of the same stuff we'd been trying all along: If a child is misbehaving, put your food down - harder - and eventually they'll give in. I couldn't have been more wrong. I was sold after last year's presentation on how to cope with tantrums. I was even more excited about this year's talk: Discipline that Does Not Divide.

Eva spoke of attachment: how it's formed in the early years between children and parents, how it grows, and how it can waiver with use of current discipline tactics. She showed the brain, its development, and how current science supports the attachment principle. And if you know anything about The Maven (other than the fact that I'm gorgeous and talented and really like coffee), you know that I'm a big fan of fact-based practices. Science, if done properly, can provide reason to theory. For example, we're seeing this in the endless studies supporting breastfeeding as the optimal food for infants. And now we're seeing it in terms of discipline, too.  This is especially good for those of us with a tricky garden to tend. Read on.

First of all, if we want kids to grow, they need to feel safe. Kids living in a state of fear or worry all the time will take a lot longer to mature because they go into self-preservation mode rather than development mode. So, if I continuously put the smackdown on Gutsy for things I want him to change, he won't change very quickly. What I need to do instead is be gentler, kinder and more patient. I can't change who he is and I can't make him more mature on my schedule. Nature will take care of that part; we just have to provide the right conditions. So there's a certain level of acceptance that needs to happen: He is who he is. We just need to help him be the best him he can be.  And how can we do that? Through attachment.

I can't possibly get into the level of detail Eva went into, so I'll sum it the best I can: Strong attachment to parents helps kids feel safe and vulnerable, which in turn helps them mature at their optimal rate.

Attachment = Vulnerability = Maturation. That's the formula. That's the key.

Some ways to hurt attachment are:

  • Using the relationship you have with your child against the child. For example: making your child separate from you every time he or she does something you deem inappropriate (timeout). What that tells the immature brain of a child is "my parent doesn't love me when I'm bad."
  • Using what children care about against them. This is the "currency" method. Taking things away that are important to the child when he or she is "bad". I tell you, if my husband cut my internet access for a week because I wasn't unloading the dishwasher every night, that wouldn't go over so well. I would resent him and quite possibly fear him. I might unload the dishwasher for fear that he'd do it again, but I'm not going to like him, nor am I going to feel very safe around him. It feels that way for a child, too. It's an immediate fix that can backfire when you consider the bigger picture.
  • Trying to make headway in the incident. I am so guilty of this I should get a life sentence. Trying to reason and rationalize with a child who is not reasonable or rational at the moment is the biggest waste of time ever. Besides, I'm likely not that reasonable or rational, myself. I'm probably pissed off and frustrated. This is not a teaching moment. Let the incident pass, let everyone calm down, and then talk about it.
Safe discipline involves connecting with the child. For example, if I want to get teenage Intrepid to the dinner table on time, I might try not yelling from another room (I'm guilty of this, too) and instead try this: sitting down on the couch next to him, asking him if he's enjoying his video game, and having him meet my eyes. Eye contact is important here, if possible. It means you've made a connection, and then it's easier to get results. At that point, I could let him know that dinner is ready. He's far more likely to come with me? Why? Because I "collected" him. Meaning, I collected his attention - his attachment - before asking him to do my bidding. You get more bees with honey, and all that. This is why Gutsy throws a fit in the morning when we're rushed. We're too busy trying to get him to move, move, move, and for what? We're not engaging him, we're not collecting him. What's he getting out of it besides stress? What's his incentive? No wonder he freaks out and hates mornings. Collect before you direct. Great advice.

Another good idea: Backing out of incidents and into the relationship. If you're angry, put yourself in a timeout before you say something hurtful. Cool down before you start yelling. (Again, the jury finds me guilty on all counts - I'm only human, your honour.) Try to do no harm during a tantrum or stand-off rather than attempting to control your child. Instead, let them know that you still love them. Say something like "We'll get through this. I still love you." Because, while that might sound ridiculously obvious, a child doesn't always realize how unconditional our love is for them. This can sometimes be enough to bring on tears from your child, thus ending the tantrum. Tears are good, as was explained in the last talk Eva gave. They signal that the child has moved out of the tantrum/anger cycle and into being able to accept and deal with whatever they're unhappy about.

Impose order primarily through structure and ritual rather than bossing your child around. This works very well with Gutsy, actually. He has a set bedtime routine that is working wonders. Bedtime snack and pyjamas at 8, followed by melatonin (yes, to help him sleep - he was tossing and turning through the night and waking up exhausted and moody) and teeth brushing at 8:30. He gets to watch TV until 9:30 at the latest - and he's usually asleep before then, happy and comfortable. No meltdowns because he knows what to expect. It took a couple of weeks to get the routine down, but it's made life so. much. easier. Mornings this week have been parade-worthy. I'm so proud of him and of us for following this advice. There is huge improvement.

Aim first to change a mind rather than a behaviour. How so? Let's look at hitting. Spawnling still does his fair share of this. At four, he sees only black and white. There is no reason in his cute little brain yet. There is only one thought process at a time. When he's playing with his brothers, he loves them. When they tick him off, he hates them and thus he hits. He doesn't feel bad about it until he loves them again. That's just the way his mind works at this age. So, if I ask him in the heat of the moment if he wants to stop hitting his brother, of course he's going to proclaim "no!" and we can go no further. But if I take him out of the room and calm him down, he'll eventually remember that he likes that big annoying kid and wishes he could take it back. That's when we can set realistic goals when it comes to his frustration. Maybe he can't work it out on his own yet, but he can come and get me when he's angry instead of hitting. And I can remind him that I know he doesn't want to hit his brother, and that he'll keep trying hard. And he can tell me that he gets very angry when Intrepid doesn't let him have a turn on the Wii, but that he loves him. This way, I'm not demanding change and growth, just helping it along. Then he walks away to give an apology, and I walk away feeling like Super Mom. It's win/win.

The most important thing I took away was this: We need to keep the relationship as free as possible from experiences of separation, shame and alarm. 

Guilty, guilty, guilty. What this means is that it's time for us to throw out any and all attempts at timeouts, removing "currency", and yelling. They don't work around here, anyway. We just do them because we've been told we should. Calmness, understanding, patience. This is what we're aiming for. And while it may sound like we're handing over control to our kids at this point, Eva did stress that it's important to be the one in charge. She says we need to be both the wall of futility (AKA the person who says "I'm sorry, but you can't do that") and the angel of comfort. We can and should say no, but we can also be there to hug them when the tears come from that. And often the tears come after a tantrum. That's just par for the course. 

That being said, if the teenager keeps getting speeding tickets, it might be time to take away the car keys for their safety. And if grades are low, it's okay to insist there's a little less TV and a little more studying done. That's part of parenting. Generally speaking, kids want to do well and they want to make us happy. They just need some guidance and support.

Finally, it was stressed that if what we're currently doing works and doesn't seem to be negatively impacting our children, then by all means keep doing it. Like Eva said, some kids are more resilient and do well with that type of discipline. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, and stuff. But it wasn't working here until we started making changes. Now, finally, things are starting to improve - most days. 

I'm sure people will be up in arms after this post. Last time I wrote about one of these talks, I received several phone calls and emails from people who were defending their parenting methods. You don't need to do that. Nobody's judging you or insisting you change what you're doing. The way I see it, if you're confident in your parenting there's no need to defend it. But you should also be open-minded enough to know that your way isn't the only way. This is another way for those of us who've tried those things and found they didn't work. 

In my opinion, it's also a way for those of us who are looking ahead to do some advance planning. One day, those kids we put in timeout are going to be too big for that. One day, they're going to be taller than us, stronger than us, and they won't just go to their rooms at our insistence. And yet we're still going to have to be in charge. What do you do when you can't threaten anymore? What do you do when you can't take as much away anymore? I've often thought about this with Gutsy, and it terrifies me.  Being a drill sergeant won't work when he's 15. But if he feels safe and attached, maybe we have a chance of still being able to guide him through the scary teenage years when there's the very real worry that he'll find safety and comfort in his peer group to replace what he may not be getting at home. Maybe he'll trust that I have a good reason for saying "no", and respect me enough to listen (after slamming a door or two). This type of parenting helps lay the foundation for the future. 

A good week. A solid week. A week of saying "I'm so proud of you" and "You're doing such a great job!" A week of not yelling, of routine, of better sleep.  I don't think we've seen the end of tantrums or sobbing Mavens at the kitchen table, but at least we've all been able to catch our collective breath over the last few days.  So thank you, Eva, and thank you, Dr. Neufeld. Today feels a little brighter.

How NOT to deal with your child's tantrums


Last night, about an hour before bedtime, we told Gutsy he couldn't play anymore Lego Star Wars.

You'd think we just took away his only water supply.

The middle gremlin threw an absolute fit which involved all of these things happening at least once, some of them simultaneously:

  • tears of rage
  • flailing limbs
  • jumping up and down on a chair
  • threats
  • screams
  • declarations of 'It's not fair!'
  • flying ottomans
We sat there calmly, Geekster and I, while the event took place. We offered words of empathy, offers of hugs, and suitable alternatives to playing a game he'd already spent three hours playing that afternoon. But mostly we just waited for him to calm down and made sure he wouldn't break anything.

Time passes differently when your child is throwing a tantrum. What seems like the longest hour of one's lifetime might only be 10 minutes. However, when the tantrum-throwing tot is quickly jumping from one destructive activity to the next, an hour can easily fly by before you know it. I'd like to say something Star Trek chique like 'it disrupts the space time continuum,' but unfortunately I'm geeky enough to know what that term means and that it doesn't apply. I am sad.

'Is this what we're supposed to do?' asked a skeptical Geekster. 'Just sit here?'

According to the seminar I attended on Monday night, absolutely.

I'm part of the Special Education Advisory Committee at our local school board. We meet every couple of months to discuss issues concerning special needs kids like Gutsy and Intrepid (who are both hearing impaired). A side benefit to attending these meetings - other than the complimentary treats and coffee, of course - is that we get some very interesting speakers from time to time. Little did I know, however, that this particular seminar, given by psychologist Eva de Gosztonyi and based on the work of Dr. Gordon Neufield, author of Hold On To Your Kids - would completely change the way I parent.

I'm going to admit something awful, so brace yourselves: Lately, I've been resenting Gutsy's behavior a lot, and I was feeling like I couldn't get beyond it to reconnect with him. The tantrums were a chasm widening daily, leaving he on one side and I on the other. It was breaking my heart, as this is the boy we tried for years to conceive; who I nursed for three years; who I love fiercely. But try as I might, I was putting a wall up to protect myself from his continuous outbursts. There's only so much any person can take, even a mom, and I was shutting down. I hated myself for it. I hate admitting it, even now. But that's the honest truth.

Then I went to this seminar, and suddenly everything made sense. It made so much sense, in fact, that I need to share it with all of you. I obviously can't explain every little detail or I'd be re-writing Dr. Neufield's book, but I'll give you my interpretation of what I learned:

There's a part of the brain called the frontal lobe. It helps us manage frustration, impulse control, and all that other tantrum-related stuff. This is the last part to develop, and the one that takes the longest to finish. In fact, research shows it doesn't start developing until 5 or 6, and isn't fully developed in the average human until the age of 25 (traumatic emotional events and neurological conditions can delay development).

This explains a lot of the stupid drama I got myself into as a teenager and young adult. Just sayin'.

Before the age of about 5, children can only process one thought at a time. That's why kids flip so easily from happy to frustrated to angry to sad to back to happy again. It's one thought after the next with no overlap. It also means they get hyper-focused on one thing. For example, when I tell Spawnling he can't have a cookie and he freaks the hell out, that's because he's unable to think of anything other than the cookie and how much he wants it. It also explains why distraction can work so well on little kids. With a little distraction, they'll often forget the ever-important cookie as quickly as they thought of it.

Now, if only I could get that distracted when I want a cookie...

A tantrum happens when a child becomes frustrated and can't yet process or accept that things will not go their way. Until that acceptance happens, they run the chance of becoming completely emotionally overwhelmed. When Gutsy wanted to launch Mr. Ottaman through the flat screen, his little noggin was effectively running around and around in a circle, unable to find the exit. Very likely, he was thinking 'Mom and Dad won't let me play my favourite game and I really want to play it and it's just not fair and why won't they let me and how can I make them let me?' over and over and over again. He was hyper-focused on one thing, and until he could accept that he would not get to play Lego Star Wars, he would not regain control.

While stuck in that thought process, all sorts of chemicals and stress hormones are raging through the body. Things like cortisol and adrenaline. These can impede judgment, but serve us well later in life when we have contract deadlines looming (believe me, I know) or when our toddler is heading for the busy road and we run like we've never run before. They're useful, but also a challenge to deal with when little gremlins are feeling foul.

Eventually, acceptance will come and Gutsy will realize he can't play his game, and Spawnling will realize he can't have a cookie right now. Sometimes it comes after one foot stomp, sometimes after a two hour blow up. But when it does come, change will happen.

All those stress chemicals racing around the system become toxins that need to be purged. Crying happens after a tantrum because those toxins are being released. When tears come, this is a good thing; the brain is switching into a more problem-solving mode. Now is the time to hold and console your child, and let them know it's okay. It's also when you can start talking about what just happened.

Here is what not to do during a tantrum. I will highlight in red the wrongs I've been committing:
  • Do not start yelling. It creates more stress and makes the problem worse.
  • Do not threaten to take away things that matter to the child. Again, this creates more stress.
  • Do not remove your child to another location ("time out") unless they're at risk of harming themselves or others, or because you need a break from the situation to compose yourself. Kids have a way of making everything about them and will assume you don't love them unless they do exactly what you want.
  • Do not assume they're trying to manipulate you with their threats and ultimatums. They're simply very overwhelmed and don't know what else to do.
So, like, basically I was doing everything wrong.

Here's what to do during a tantrum:
  • Be present for your child. You don't have to sit there and watch the whole tantrum, but stay close enough that they know you're there for them no matter what. That helps them feel safe and get to the tears/problem-solving stage faster.
  • Be both compassionate and firm at the same time. Set boundaries but be gentle. For example, we empathized with Gutsy's frustration over not being able to get what he wanted, but we also held firm to our decision.
  • Make sure things don't get broken. (I added in this one - it was not in the seminar. Just a handy-dandy Maven word of experience) We quickly stopped Gutsy from throwing things so no one or nothing got hurt.
  • If there are two parents present, it's okay to tag team and take a break, especially if you're feeling overwhelmed.
  • Tell your child that you understand they're frustrated and empathize with their feelings.
  • When the tears come, gently help your child problem-solve and come up with other ways of expressing frustration and working through it.
The speaker said something about her daughter that really stuck with me. Her daughter would be good as gold at school and out with other people. The minute she walked through the door and disliked one thing her mother said, she would completely melt down. This is so true of Gutsy and a lot of other kids I know. Why is it he can be so well-behaved for others and not at home? Am I wearing clashing colours? Does he not like the meals I make him? What the hell is wrong with me?!

The simple answer, she said, is that Gutsy uses what little frontal lobe control he has when he's at school, on playdates, at grandma's house, and melts down the minute he gets home because he's emotionally exhausted; he's given it his all for an entire day and he simply can't do it anymore. She also said that a child who tantrums around their parents is one that feels very safe and attached. Basically, it's a compliment.

So, ear-piercing screaming + ottoman launching = awesome parenting. Great, I think.

In the end, I learned that there is no way to accelerate frontal lobe development. (Damn.) All we can do is provide a safe and loving environment for our children and do our best not to exacerbate the tantrums by adding more stress to the mix. She also mentioned that for little brains, being able to come home right after school is ideal, as it allows the child to switch off and rest. In our society we expect so much of our kids: full-time school, part-time daycare, lots of after-school and weekend activities. Their brains almost never get a chance to recharge.

I have to say, with all the financial stress we've been under lately, it really validated my decision to stay home and keep after-school activities to a minimum. Heck, the gremlins tantrum enough as it is. They have a frightening lack of frontal lobe action going on. Thinking about what they'd be like if they were scheduled even more makes my eyelid twitch.

Anyway, that's about all there is to that. We need to stop expecting our kids to be little adults and allow them the time they need to mature naturally.

Last night's tantrum took about 20 minutes, I'd say. We were happily playing actual Lego within short order, and bedtime was a breeze. When I compare this to the usual butting heads, multiple time-outs and utter screamfests, this was progress. We'll see how things go from here, but I'd say we're off to a pretty good start.

And the best news? I have a better understanding of why Gutsy behaves the way he does, and I don't resent him for it. It's not his fault, he's not trying to make this difficult, he's not trying to manipulate me. This week has been spent bridging that chasm, and figuring out how I need to change, not how he needs to.

After thirteen years, I still haven't figured out this parenting thing. Leave it to the gremlins to remind me how imperfect I am.

Hot, mind you, but imperfect.

Quiz Time: Should You Stay Home to Raise Your Kids?


A friend of mine who's expecting her first child wrote to me the other day asking my thoughts on staying home. She's trying to get a balanced picture; the pros and cons; the ups and downs; the good, the bad and the tired (there's a LOT of tired). I commend her for really thinking this through. It's not a black and white issue, that's for sure.

I gave her a very honest view of my life as a stay-at-home-mom with over thirteen years under my belt. I have many war wounds from the field, but also many medals.

Ok, I lied: I have no medals whatsoever. In fact, I don't even have a damn pay stub - probably the most significant drawback of the whole "unpaid work" thing. And the only war wounds I have are in the form of cellulite amassed from having too many "popcorn and a movie" afternoons with the gremlins. It's a risky job, but someone's gotta do it.

The thing about staying home is that it's not suited to everyone. Surely there are personality types that should probably avoid it altogether. So, what I should have done for my friend and others who question their parenting future, was use my wealth of experience to create a quiz for the potential stay-at-home-parent.

So, I am. Like, right now.

After years of agonizing over the choice women's lib has granted us, anyone can take The Maven's highly scientific self-test to help guide them down the right path at one of life's biggest forks. Gosh, I'm fabulous, aren't I?

Get your pens ready, kids! Here we go.

Question 1. A stay-at-home-parent is:
a) someone who dedicates themselves to full-time parenting instead of working outside the home
b) an aging parent who stays in your home and watches Matlock reruns while you're at work
c) a type of tropical fruit

Question 2. How do you feel about parenting?
a) becoming a parent has always been a priority for me
b) children are like really cute handbags, except they sometimes poop themselves
c) hey, did you notice 'a parent' sounds like 'apparent', and if you read the first answer out loud it sounds really, really funny? ...Uh, anyone got snacks? I've totally got the munchies...

Question 3. How important is your career to you?
a) I'd be willing to take some time off to be home with my kids
b) important enough that I can't imagine not going to work every day
c) the minute my baby starts making retirement contributions in my name, I'll quit my day job And freak out a little, because that would be really creepy. A baby at a bank? Totally random!

Question 4. How financially secure are you?
a) we pay all our bills and could probably manage on one income if we scaled back on the extras
b) we eat a lot of boxed macaroni and cheese around here
c) no, dude, like seriously. A lot of it. Sometimes with ketchup if we're feeling fancy

Question 5. Kids are really fun:
a) all the time! Kids are awesome, and I love spending my days with them
b) Before 9 and after 5. I might go a little wonky like that Maven chick if I didn't get a break
c) on YouTube. Only on YouTube.

Question 6. My idea of a perfect weekday morning is:
a) drinking a coffee in my jammies while I read a book with a snuggly toddler
b) getting kudos from my team for presenting a kick ass product idea. Go team me!
c) cruisin' for bitches.... Wait, what quiz is this again?

Question 7. A playgroup is:
a) a group of children and caregivers who have scheduled get-togethers so everyone can socialize
b) a synonym for "germ factory." Gross me out.
c) a group that puts on plays. Hence "play" and "group". Duh, stupid.

Question 8. My self-worth is based on:
a) who I am as a person, and very little to do with my career choice
b) how much money I make, or how important I am at my job
c) how many people tell me I look like Paris Hilton on a diet

Question 9. The idea of staying home to raise a family
a) interests me
b) makes me cringe
c) makes me want to tear out my uterus

Question 10. If I am home and looking for something to do, baby and I can visit:
a) a park
b) "baby and me" viewing at the local cinema
c) "baby and me" viewings at the local peep show

Now, add up how many a, b and c answers you have.

If you have primarily a answers, you are definitely a strong candidate for this rewarding yet terribly exhausting job. If you don't like coffee, it will make you like it. But it's also awesome in its own way, like you can eat whatever you want and don't get coworkers asking you to join their Weight Watchers group every Tuesday at lunch. And don't forget to bring a healthy salad! Gag me.

If you have primarily b answers, you could stay at home, but there is a chance you'll end up on Dr. Phil as one of those moms who orders prescription painkillers on the internet to cope with the tantrums. Just sayin'. There are plenty of good reasons not to stay home full-time. I've considered and reconsidered them many times. In the end, I'm still here and I like it, but it's no picnic (unless you're having an actual picnic, which we do quite often, come to think of it...)

If you primarily scored c answers, run - don't walk - to the nearest permanent birth control clinic. Pick up pamphlets on the subject and give it serious consideration. Cruisin' for bitches works a lot better when you don't have a car seat or two in the back of your minivan (trust me).

I hope this highly detailed test helped you sort out one of life's biggest questions.

You are most welcome. I accept payment in comments or coffee. Or both. Both is best.

Children: The Great Regret?

Can we discuss this woman?

In case you haven't heard her story or don't want to read it as it would take your limited leisure time away from my blog (an understandable concern), I will give you the abridged version:

A Parisian woman named Corinne Maier and partner, Yves, have two children. She describes this scene to The Globe and Mail:

"We went to a family dinner in the suburbs of Paris. It took us a lot of time to go there with the children, and we went because the children wanted to go. We didn't want to go, my partner and I, and it was a bit boring, but we took them anyway," she says with a Gallic nonchalance, strolling across an empty floor in the enormous, art-filled house in one of the better corners of Brussels where she lives in a kind of exile from France with her partner, Yves, 45, their daughter Laure, 13, and son, Cecil, 10.

"And on the way back, the two of us thought that it would be nice to see an exhibition on Belgian surrealists. Once inside the museum, the children began to be awful." Laure said that the exhibition was "bullshit." Cecil began to scream, so Yves took him outside. "And I started yelling at him for this: 'Why aren't you more strong with him?' And we began to argue. We didn't see anything. And at that point, I thought, 'I really regret it, I regret having children.' "

So, not only does she come to this epiphany, but she writes a book about it entitled NO KIDS: 40 Good Reasons Not To Have Children. Since she regrets ever birthing the little ankle biters, she decides to save those who have not yet filled their wombs by offering them many reasons not to breed.

Not only can I find a lot of holes in her 'good' reasons to remain childless (a list of them is provided in the article linked above), but I can also pick apart the catalyst that brought her to her parental knees and inspired her to write the book.

First of all, if you don't want to go out for dinner and your children want to, I have an often unused Ninja Parenting Trick, passed down from the masters. I found it in a secret book inside a secret hovel inside a secret tree knot in a secret forest. It sounds absurd at first, so try to keep an open mind:

Just tell them "no".

I know what you're thinking: Who says "no" to small children, thus fracturing their precious little hearts? However, my sources inform me that they will, eventually, get over it. If in doubt, take the money you would have spent on a dinner for four and put it in a savings account. Then, if they still resent you in twenty years, you can hand them the sum of a missed dinner and other outings you denied them and they can funnel it into their therapy sessions. Ta-da! It's a win/win situation.

And we can all identify the next obvious problem: Who, in their right mind, decides to take children to see an exhibition on Belgian surrealists?

People who are looking for trouble, that's who.

I'm with her daughter: The exhibition does sound a lot like bullshit. And her son started screaming? He probably was going crazy from looking at pictures of apples that look like wooden asses. I mean, is it an apple or an ass? Who can tell? Those Belgian surrealists are freaky people.

Seriously: If you're going out with your kids, take them to a movie. Take them to a park. Take them to a fair. There are also these people called "babysitters" you can hire to watch them when you want to go look at apple asses. Or - hey, wait a minute! - you can leave your children at home because they're 10 and 13. No babysitter expenses required and lots of time to look at crazy art with no distractions. What a concept!

That day was bad because the parents made it bad. They seem to have resented taking their kids somewhere kid-like, then wanted to make themselves feel better by doing something completely un-kid-like - with kids in tow. It's true that their children did not behave themselves; not only was the environment unfriendly, but there seems to be a serious lack of discipline going on, and it's probably been that way for a while. A likely reason why she was yelling at her husband about not being "more strong" with their son.

Not to mention that the environment in their house sounds about as warm as a naked stroll through Antarctica. A big house full of art and empty floors? But I digress.

I'm not an educated woman. I'm not a worldly woman. But I know how people work. I'm going to put on my fake Freudian beard for a minute and psychoanalyze this family: The problem here has nothing to do with children ruining their life. The problem, I'm afraid, is that mom and dad are giant tools with a skewed version of fun. They were tools before they ever bred, but it's become more apparent now that they've gone and made themselves responsible for the lives of others.

Children are not Prada bags. They are not a cute new pair of shoes. They are not the latest gadget. The sooner couples stop looking at children as accessories worn by celebrities on all the gossip sites, all the while thinking to themselves 'I would look so good with that diaper bag over my shoulder at the next wine and cheese,' the better. Unless your child wakes you up on Saturday morning and says 'Mommy, I would really like to see the work of Belgian surrealists today!' you might want to wait until date night.

The author makes a lot of arguments, and some of them are convincing: The world is overpopulated. You will get less time for yourself. Children are really expensive. Your career may suffer a little once you become a parent.

But, here's the thing: I worried about a lot of those issues, too. But the minute I held each of those gorgeous babies in my arms the concerns I had paled in comparison. Why? Because I love my children, little horns at all. I hate their tantrums, cringe at their messes, and am perplexed by the excitement I feel whenever my husband and I can sneak off to the grocery store together for some 'alone time'.

Has life changed? Absolutely. Is it hard sometimes? Definitely. Do I regret having children? Not for a second. Sometimes I envy the childless, but it's a fleeting moment. And then Spawnling asks for a plate of 'awfuls and syrup', or Gutsy creates a secret lab under the table with green potions made of water and dish soap, or Intrepid tells me about how he helped a little girl with her reading at the homework club he volunteers at, and that thought vanishes.

You know what frightens me? That the author can create these wonderful - albeit imperfect - little beings and yet regret having them so much that she would write a book about it and even give each of them a copy (Yes. She really did. It's in the article).

You know, just to let them know how much she regrets having them. Better to hear it from your own mother, I guess.

If there's one thing I've learned from browsing this book and reading the accompanying reviews, it's this: Do not have children if you don't want to have them. Nobody is forcing you to and you don't need to give people excuses or reasons why you don't want them. You don't need a book to justify your decisions. Go on about your life and enjoy your free time. Good on ya.

And, if you happen to be a complete narcissist who enjoys the work of Belgian surrealists, you should not have children, either. In fact, you should probably consider removing your uterus altogether just in case. I would not wish having you as a mother on anyone. Just sayin'.

In Which The Maven Admits to Crossing the Line

A couple of weeks ago I did something I swore I would never, ever do: I spanked one of my children.

I don't think parents who use corporal punishment are bad parents, or that they don't know what they're doing. It's just that I 've always maintained that raising my hand is not how I want to raise my boys, because, as far as I'm concerned, kids can be brought up very well without ever having to physically harm them.

But this isn't the first time I've done something I vowed never to do. That train of misconception started with 'I'll never breasfeed/co-sleep/stay-at-home' and continued along the railway line with memorable quotes like 'we have a strict no toy weapons policy at our house because I believe you can teach your children to be peaceful through example' and 'my child will never behave like that in a grocery store'.

But I held strong to having a spank-free household. It just wasn't something we were going to do, ever. And for twelve-and-a-half years I successfully resisted the occasional urge to put hand to bottom.

Until, one day, Gutsy crossed the line in such a way that I didn't see any other option.

I won't go into gory details because I don't want to lay down a story that will justify what I did. Suffice to say that there was some very serious defiance going on involving screaming, throwing, banging, threatening and physically harming me. An absolutely impressive display of emotion!
As a drama queen myself, I have to appreciate the effort that went into that fit. It was rather lengendary, really, and looking back I would have to give him a score of 9.8: Very strong presentation, good verbalization of his anger, shock value, and interesting use of props. If there were an olympic tantrum competition he would have had a good shot at the gold.

I tried just about everything I could think of, from attempting to talk him down, to giving him a time-out, to taking away priviledges. And all the while it got worse and worse and worse. More and more violent, more and more dangerous for both of us, more and more terrifying for his brothers. Finally, having exhausted anything my stressed-out mind could think of, I put him over my knee.

And it did absolutely nothing to solve the problem. (And please don't waste your time sending me emails and comments about how I didn't do it right. I'm not looking for a how-to or a FAQ on corporal punishment. This was a one-time deal. Great Big Maven's Spanking Outlet Store has permanently closed.)

In the end, what ended the fit was me telling him I was giving up and going outside for a breather. When he followed me into the backyard a few minutes later and found me softly crying, he melted and we both cried together.

That was the beginning of the end of all conventional discipline methods with Gutsy. The straw that broke the camel's back. The spank that broke both our hearts.

(See the drama queen coming out? He comes by it honestly.)

After doing a bit of research while he was busily camping with Intrepid and Geekster, I came across a book called The Explosive Child.

Is there any better way to describe Gutsy the gremlin? I think not. It even has a sad little boy on the cover with a bomb for a head, which is rather morbid and disturbing and yet so very true of how Gutsy feels after an emotional explosion.

What I've read so far has been very enlightening: the parts of the brain that control a child's ability to be flexible in routines and transitions, and to be able to control frustration levels, are in the same location as where issues like OCD and ADHD seem to crop up (I'm not a big fan of labelling children and neither is the author, but he wanted to point out that the brain scans are similar).

The turning point for me was understanding that Gutsy does not act out like this on purpose. He has a strong desire to please (we see this when he's calm) and wants to do better, he just can't. He doesn't know how. His ability to control himself in stressful situations is underdeveloped for his age. The author equates it to having a learning disability of sorts. You can't teach a child like this using time-outs and sticker charts, removing priviledges or, as I've newly discovered, spanking. It's a whole new ballgame.

Once I discovered that Gutsy has no more control over losing his shit than I do over being incredibly awesome, I felt a lot better. I think I might be able to start liking him more again. Oh, sure, I love him tremendously, horns and all, but I don't necessarily like being held hostage by his behaviour.

It's surprising to me that my children aren't perfect. I mean, didn't they come from me? But what surprises me more is the sadness I've been feeling over not being a good mother to Gutsy. I feel like I've failed him in so many ways despite my best efforts. Spanking him when I swore I wouldn't didn't help my mama self-esteem, either.

The rest of the book - the part I haven't read yet - is all about how to retrain the brain and usher it into a new era of self-control. I'm all about self-control; he obviously didn't get that problem from me. I mean, that's why I'm a skinny social drinker.

Damn it!

I hope this works. If it doesn't I may just put on my new running shoes and take off for the hills. Maybe I'll be adopted by a pack of wolves and can hunt with them.... Until they discover I'm a vegetarian wuss and devour me. Do you suppose spanking a wolf woud make it stop biting?

Baby Boot Camp


When The Sister and I go shopping and I bring one of the gremlins, it's not because I'm a sucker for punishment.

When she chases Spawnling around the house with a shoe of his in each hand, enacts a perfect wrestling hold to put his coat on, hastily chases him outside and stuffs him unceremoniously into his car seat as he cackles evilly, she's not doing it because I'm too busy deciding what purse would go best with my shoes.

When she hovers around him in a mall, bribes him to get into the stroller by buying him a lollipop, navigates carefully around store racks that have clothing he could stain with his sticky little hands, all while attempting to buy things, I'm not off getting myself a bagel and a coffee because I feel like it.

When she's trying to negotiate a movie in the van for him to watch, changing it because he decides ten seconds in that he hates that one, reaching haphazardly behind her to pick up his dropped lollipop, contorting her body into uncomfortably painful positions to tickle him when he gets grumpy, I don't ignore the entire kerfuffle and instead belt out Weezer tunes because I'm being insensitive.

See, The Sister - AKA Photo Lush - has no little spawns of her own yet. And given that it took five years of dating before her and Chemgineer moved in together, I'll probably be throwing her first baby shower about the time we enter the next ice age. In the meantime I have three gremlins at nearly all stages of development for her to sink her future parenting teeth into.

Thanks to me, she can learn to steer through the ferocious storms of toddler tantrums, attempt to focus on her daily tasks while simultaneously processing a six-year-old's incessant monologues, and delicately, oh so very delicately, tiptoe around a preteen's precarious mood swings.

By the time she has her own children she will be nothing short of a parenting goddess, and people will bow at her feet for she has knowledge they only wish they, too, possessed. She'll know why we say "because I said so" and that it's okay to yell "STOP YELLING!" in certain situations. She'll understand how important shopping lists are when your mind is on telling the kids they can't have every damn thing in the store, and why you should never, ever leave your box of tampons where someone can reach it ("Look, mom! Nose plugs!")

When my sister becomes a mother she will already know that you can't watch a movie from start to finish without pausing it. That spit-up stains can be covered up with a nice scarf. That rock music trumps Raffi after you've given birth to your second child.

***

As she was struggling to get Spawnling into his car seat today while avoiding his sticky lollipop hands, I loaded the shopping bags into the trunk and sat in the front seat eating Peanut M&Ms with my free hands - all two of them.

Why? Because I love my sister enough to let her get sticky hands all over her hair, that's why.

(Photo: My sister as a baby. Sooo cute!)

Parenting 101, sorta.



Since I'm such an expert on parenting, I thought it would be in my readership's best interest if I were to ask some questions that could be on the exam in my future parenting classes. It would give all my loyal visitors a head start on the course and they wouldn't have to miss out on any frat parties because they're too busy cramming for exams.

Imagine the travesty of missing the spring kegger. Horrific! (Unless you're me and you avoid keggers altogether for obvious recovery-based reasons...)

So, without further ado, here are some practice questions:

Describe all four phases of how The Maven, parenting diva, would deal with a tantruming six-year-old when they're both exhausted and she's trying to do the fifth manual load of dishes of the day because the stupid dishwasher is stupidly broken.

Phase 1. The Maven tries the calm approach by physically getting down to the child's level and lovingly but firmly telling him he needs to stop. She places a hand on his shoulder and rubs his arm while he screams loudly enough to make her eardrums want to drink cyanide. Like, if they had mouths. She cradles him in her arms and strokes his hair softly while she tells him it's alright, he just needs to calm down.

Phase 2. If he doesn't stop screaming because his previously embryonic self absorbed every ounce of genetic stubbornness from both his parents, she decides she needs some space and tells him that she's going to go to a quiet place so she can breathe and hopes that he'll calm down as well.

Phase 3. If he chases her down, still screaming, she keeps walking as she breathes very deeply and attempts to see any colour but red; preferably mauve with maybe some rainbows and unicorns floating around in the mauveness.

Phase 4. If the six-year-old whacks her on the back of the leg with all his might because he's not getting what he wants, The Maven, mother supreme, stoops to her son's level in a whole new way by screaming louder than he can and threatening to throw his precious laptop (a 10-year-old Apple with some missing keys and a broken hinge) in the garbage if he makes even one more peep. He goes to time-out quietly.

It works. The Maven wins.

(Did everyone get that? It might be a good idea to take some notes.)

Question 2: What would The Maven recommend you do if you had confirmed via email a meeting at the school with a woman coming from out of town to talk about your gremlins' hearing needs?

Well, first of all, don't write it down anywhere, especially on something useful like a calendar. Just make a mental note of it and tell yourself you'll remember because it's obviously too important to forget. Then have a few things break in the interim, like a furnace and dishwasher, and throw in several friends in crisis and in need of your advice and support, and voila: Twenty minutes after you're supposed to be at the school you'll get a phone call saying "Did you forget about me?" and you can stammer and apologize and make excuses and just generally feel really craptastic about the entire thing.

3. What should you do if your children have been cooped up inside the school all day because it's bitterly cold outside, are in foul moods, are throwing tantrums and/or crying about nothing and/or falling off of things and hitting their faces on tables, and you've been rather forgetful?

It's obvious you all need a nice healthy meal. Preferably something homecooked. But the day has sucked for you, the mom, and you know that example of putting your own oxygen mask on before your baby's? It's time to use that card and use it well. The Maven would recommend you throw steamed veggies to the wind and order some extra cheese pizza and pop. That's how we amazing parents roll, yo.

***

Thus concludes our lesson for the day. I thank you all for coming and hope that you will gain some valuable information from this session. It's not every day I impart wisdom of this magnitude, but it's truly my hope that everyone can shine as bright as I do when it comes to raising their children. Step up and be the best parent you can be. And, when all else fails, eat an extra slice of pizza and have a nap on the couch.