Held Accountable

I’ve come to the conclusion that the biggest problems I have as a parent and with Z are problems with me. When I find myself making excuses to myself I know something is wrong. I’ve got to pay attention to what is being required of me as a parent, especially when it comes to setting boundaries and sticking to it.  

It’s hard to admit when I think I’ve done something wrong as a parent.

To me it’s about teaching him respect and kindness, direction, re-direction and discipline, not about control.  Discipline doesn't have to be a dirty word; it is a good thing.

He depends on me to show him what is and isn’t acceptable.  He depends on me for right and wrong. He depends on me to show him how to respect others so they will also respect him.  He depends on me for consistency and discipline.  He trusts me to guide him.  It’s a big job but I’ve got to step up to the plate and be consistent or it’s him that’ll suffer in the end.

I believe that every moment is a chance to start over and there’s no time like the present to do so. 

I can’t expect Z to just learn self control through my “monkey see, monkey do” method.  I have to be better at enforcing boundaries.  

In the last few days since I posted about the photo shoot (one of the worst moments I've ever experienced), I’ve been really aware about how I respond to his behavior and I’ve surprised myself.  When I stick to my guns and I’m firm, it works.  He does respond well.  I’m worst about it when there’s a lot going on, but that’s when he needs me the most.

He is very strong willed and active so I have to get down to his level.  I've noticed his behavior changing in the last few months especially.  I obviously can’t just say something and expect him to follow it without holding him to it.  For example, “Z, please stop throwing that.”  And two throws later say it again.  I need to stop him and stick with time-out on the second throw or remove him from the situation, instead of say it again.  When I get down to his level and stop he responds. 

He’s not a bad kid, he just needs to be held accountable and re-directed more often. 

Sometimes, I need to be held accountable for not paying attention to the situation.  I can’t set him up for failure either.  

Also, he is now getting old enough to understand when he is doing something that’s not cool.  He is also getting good at telling me, “Mama, I have a feeling!”  Then we can talk about it.  It melts my heart every time.  Sometimes I need to just stop what I am doing.  Sometimes I need to ask him what’s up or what I can do, maybe just a hug or acknowledgment, instead of rely on him to come to me or figure it out.  He is three.

I’ll admit –I’ve never read a book about toddler discipline or behavior.  I rather shy away from parenting method books, but I actually would like to know if anyone recommends a child development book for parents (one that helps me to understand his little brain).  Or any book that you've read and why you recommend it.

I am grateful for my friends I’ve talked to, the ones that made a comment and the ones that messaged me.  Thank you.

(Deep sigh)  Wish me good luck and strength!

Through His Eyes

As a parent it's easy to get caught up in what we think we need to be doing.  It's easy to get frustrated at the "mess" that surrounds us every minute.  Of course thoughts pop into my head then I try and see it through his eyes and really needs to be done -play together and give him my attention.  I am eternally grateful for being taught to slow down, be in the moment and let things go.

I see the carpet needs vacuuming.
He sees confetti, sparkles, and color everywhere.

I see toys thrown off the table and they need to be picked up.
He sees the earthquake.  It's there on purpose.

I see twenty books on the floor.
He sees choices to sort through.

I see five ornaments clumped together.
He sees "friends".

I see a deathtrap on the stairs.
He sees a mountain racetrack.

I see marker all over him.
He sees Mad Tiger.

I see filthy tub water.
He sees an ocean of possibility.

This is why I let it be and clean when they go to sleep.  Yes, we pick up little by little together too and I get some stuff done bit by bit.  But making the mess is way more fun than demanding a perfect house from minute to minute.  We're all the happier for it.

And like magic we start all over again the next day.

Hold My Tongue

We had fun at the park, as usual.  I met a friend and we sat with our babies as Z ran around in the cool November weather making friends and horsing around.

We observed all the kids' and parents' interactions and discussed all sorts of stuff.  People fascinate me.  I absolutely adore seeing the relationships parents have with their kids.  One topic was how awesome and neat it is that each and every family, mother and child is different.  To each his own!

I cross each bridge as I come to it and I have no method or formula.  Every interaction is different.  I'm not right.  I'm not wrong.  I have no answers.  I have no advice.  I have experiences to share.  We all do.

Eventually, my friend left and I cuddled Bodhi and watched Z play.

Then it got weird.

Two Mamas had already corralled their kids, about the same age as Z, from Z and his two rough and older silly friends, a brother and sister.  More than once.  A few other kids joined in and out of the silliness.  Mainly chasing, a little pushing and standing their ground.  No one had been hurt.  No one was upset.  They were being kids.

Sometimes Z seems to be rougher than other kids but sometimes it's the other way around.  I say let the kids work it out unless someone is seriously upset or hurt.  If I see Z being clearly and unnecessarily rough, especially to smaller kids, I'll say something to him.  I try and intuit if he needs me to step in.  He's very tough and independent and it takes a lot for him to run to Mama.  He's learning boundaries and who wants to be rough and who doesn't.

The Mamas kept looking at me and other parents disapprovingly.  They didn't seem to trust their kids to play alone and watched everything like a hawk.

Z played a lot with the brother and sister.  They played chase, were being silly and roughhousing but no one was hurt.  I let it be.  So did the other parents.

They ran off to the side and started throwing mulch while chasing each other and laughing.  No one else was in the way or upset.  Z looked at me and I shook my head side to side with a "watch it" look.  No one got it in the face or eyes.  No one cried.  Again, I let it be.

The other kids joined in.  The ones that aren't allowed to be rough or figure it out on their own.   They were intrigued and wanted in on the action!  The Mamas freaked out and went to get their kids away from the scene of the crime.

More distressed looks.  I felt lost about what to do, but no other parents were concerned.  The two upset Mamas were the only ones, well, upset.  Let it be.

Eventually, all the kids headed back to the playground and went up to the kids that weren't allowed to play rough.  Z and the other kids were highly energized and I saw one Mom get up.  The other kids ran off.   I got up and began to walk to Z, holding Bodhi to my chest.  She was clearly very upset and said something to Z.  I didn't hear it.

Z started to push one of the kids and went to throw mulch.    It all happened so fast.  Wrong kid, Z!

"GET AWAY FROM THOSE KIDS!  Don't play with those kids!!" she said to her son.

I said, "I'm sorry.  Z please don't be rough.  He doesn't want to play like that."

She huffed, "My kid isn't throwing mulch or being rough."

I replied, "I understand.  He's learning.  He's three."

Her face was red and she was breathless and angry.  "You think I don't know what it's like to have a three year old!!!!  He's three!!  And he's three!!!  I know what it's like to have a three year old!!"

"I'm sorry."  I walked away.

The heat had risen up into my throat.  That wasn't what I wanted to say.  There were so many things I wanted to say.  I wanted to tell her she was being a bitch and I think kids should be allowed to figure out the world.  And a few other choice things.  I held my tongue and composure. 

My kids depend on me to be the calm in the storm.  I try.  I try hard.  Actually, I think Yoda has it right, "Do or do not.  There is no try."

I sat down and looked around.  Other Mamas and Daddies were smiling at me like "Wow, that just happened?  Sorry it was you."   I glanced over at her to see if she had calmed down.  Both Mamas were shooting daggers at me and the parents of the brother and sister through their eyes.  She was furious.  To her, we were clearly wrong.  They were right.  Our kids were bad.  Their kids were good.

It was just plain weird.  The line had been crossed.  I decided it was time to go.  And let it go.

Ever had an experience like that?
What do you think of roughhousing or letting kids work it out?
Where do you draw the line?