Violent Tendencies...

To Spank or not to spank?

Most people have a pretty good idea of whether or not they plan to use physical means to discipline their children before they are born.

I, of course, had to do much research on the matter, and found that generally people fall into one of two groups. And those groups don't like each other much.

These are the war cries of the two different groups:

# 1: If you don't spank your child, it means you don't love them enough to discipline them.
We are mammals. If we look at any other mammal, we see them bite and swipe at their young, not to cause them unnecessary pain, but to teach them. Immediate reaction to solve unwanted behavior. ( - Go spanking! It solves all problems, possibly even world hunger - Yay!)


# 2: Hitting is completely unnecessary, and emotionally destructive - It should not be included in discipline.
We are human, and have managed to master many complicated skills and evolved thought processes during our time on earth. We are able to rise above our primitive beginnings and provide a more complete corrective method. ( - Hitting is barbaric. Don't do it or you'll turn back into a monkey!)

So, after taking in both very convincing arguments, realizing that I don't really fit in either category, and forming my own idea's and theories on the matter, I decided that I would not be using physical discipline on my children.

I am not disputing the fact that physical discipline works. Of course it works! You are threatening a small person with (mild) physical violence. That's gotta be pretty scary when you're small - and fear is a great motivator...

But there are much better ways. And I'm not saying this in the flowery PC "We mustn't ever blow too hard in the general direction of a small child least we knock it from it's feet and cause it slight mental anguish, and possibly a brain hemorrhage." way.

I'm saying, that if you lead out of fear, the child rarely gets the opportunity to test it's own moral compass, instilling at a young age, that the only reason you don't lie / steal / kick your brother / spit on the cat, is because if you do, you will be punished.

There are so many adults out there that fully admit that the only reason they don't steal / kill ect, is because they fear the consequences if they get caught. (Call me crazy, but I kinda want my boys to not kill people because they have assessed all the relevant information, and decided that it is not the right thing to do.) These are usually the same adults that spout the famous "My parents used to hit me, and it didn't do me any harm." line.

I suppose it depends on how you define "harm."
(I mean, for a start these people seem to want to kill other humans.... that seems a bit harmful to me...)

Even when done in a corrective manner hitting can cause pain, resentment, anger, frustration, fear, embarrassment... the list goes on...And all this coming directly from a child's main source of nurturing and information - their parents.
What a devastating cocktail for developing self esteem and trust

.
It is a very personal choice, and one that I believe should remain with the parents. They are the only ones who know what their own capability's are, and therefore how they are best able to teach and correct their children.

By saying this, I am not advocating the statements that "It's the only way some kids learn." Or "I've tried everything else, and this is the only thing that works."

*Cough* Whatever. *Cough*

I am saying that it depends on your desired outcome. If what you are trying to do is stop behavior from happening, quickly and (relatively) effectively, without worrying too much about (possible) long term effects, this is a good way to go. And you may get a pretty well behaved child out of it, so if that is your desired outcome - congratulations, you win :)

My desired outcomes have always revolved more around the adults my boys will become, so I'm not prepared to have good kids at the (possible) risk of sacrificing self-aware adults.

What about danger? Surely if your child is about to run onto the road / touch the fire / drink the toilet cleaner, you need to give it a quick slap on the hand so that it knows immediately to stop what it's doing?...
Yeah, I can't really answer that. I've never had to. Is that the product of good preparation, or are my children just naturally not inclined to do those things? (Since I've put in a LOT of work in this department, I like to think it's good preparation, but in reality, it could be either :)

And while it's something I have chosen not to do, I really don't have a problem with other people using physical discipline on their children, as long as it is a conscious choice that they have made.

It's the hitting in anger that I disagree with. Any physical action combined with anger changes it's intended meaning. If a child does something wrong, and is corrected by spanking out of anger or frustration, I believe the lesson is lost. Maybe not always for the child, but for the parent. It ceases to be a moment where we can teach our child, and becomes all about punishing.

Disclaimer:

I realize that this is a pretty touchy subject for many people - most people in my life have chosen to physically discipline their children, so I know that they believe - just as emphatically that I do - that they are doing the right thing by their own children.
I don't need to prove to them that I am right, and they are wrong. I have no interest in trying to "convince" people that my way is best, but if I can make even one person think about why they are doing something that they previously hadn't really though about - even if it's only to think that I am completely full of crap, therefore re-confirming their opposing view - well, that just explodes with all sorts of awesome :)




xox

The Sky is falling...

The Attack is now two. No longer a baby, but a little boy. How the hell did that happen?

He has managed to get through his babyhood without allowing anybody other than me, occasionally Mark, and my mother, to pick him up. Others still do sometimes of course, but they usually set him down again pretty quick - it's not worth going deaf over.

He still loves animals. He is still reckless. He is still stubborn. He is still honest....Mostly.

He is the child that will always tell me what happened if I didn't witness it firsthand. ("Connah donked my head!" "Me poked Connah's eye." "My did it! MWAHAHAHAHA"... He never refers to himself as "I" or "Ashden", in fact, I think I've only heard him say his name three times in his whole life...)

I have observed with fascinated horror, his first epic two and a half hour meltdown... over a Youtube video that he didn't want to watch again, and Connah hit "replay" anyway.

I have fished him out from under the water when we have gone swimming, six times in one hour. He is never more than half a meter away from me, so gets yanked out pretty damn quick, but he just gets so excited that he forgets that his head has to stay above the water. Repeatedly.

He has developed a friendship with a pigeon, who was sick for a short time. It was kept in a cage for a week, and The Attack spent that week having "holds". It is a homing pigeon, so once it got well it was released back outside. He catches the thing every day, and carts it in the house. He will carry that pigeon around for hours. And it lets him.

Raising Ashden is like raising a completely different breed of human to Connah.

With Connah, I have always been very focused on his emotional and mental development. It feels like if I let my guard down for a minute - answer one question wrong, or fail to notice when something has disturbed him and he needs an explanation from me - I'm somehow dooming him to a lifetime of emotional repression and/or ignorance.
I'm very careful with his physical safety as well, but I don't really feel as though I'm fighting a constant battle with that. I just don't take unnecessary risks.

With The Attack, it's flipped. He usually responds to emotional or intellectual stuff just as I'd expect him to, and while he still questions pretty much everything in the world, I don't feel that he is bewildered by it. He just wants information.

His physical well being is a different matter.

Every morning when he wakes up, I'm a little bit surprised, and very, very grateful.

I still check on him several times every night.
I still get that thrill of fear in the pit of my stomach when he sleeps slightly longer than I expect him to.
I still call to see how he's doing when he's with my mother during the mornings, and panic if I can't get through on the phone.
I'm always so happy to see him after a few hours of separation.

This is my battle for Ashden - feeling like it's not his emotional stability, but his life that is under constant threat if my vigilance should falter.
It's not even accidents that I fear for him, it's feeling like he will disintegrate, that his very substance will slip through my fingers and evaporate while I'm not looking.

I'm pretty sure it's all in my head, and I think it stems from subconsciously remembering that there was a time when he wasn't going to exist. I just can't quite believe that he is really here for good.

After Connah was born, I very quickly re-assessed my desire to have three children, and decided that I was happy just having the one. Not because giving birth was so hideous and traumatising. (Although it kind of was.) And not because he was a difficult baby (Although, he kind of was...) But because I felt that if I had another child, I would be taking time, energy and attention away from Connah. What possible reason is there for that? Crazy talk!

I don't know what it was that changed my mind. I do know that all those reasons for only wanting one child are still logical, and valid to me. I do have less time, less energy, and less attention. Because, much as I like to think otherwise, I am not a superhero. (Only at night when no one is looking...)

And I do know that while those reasons are still valid, I can not feel anything but gratitude for whatever overrode them, because now that I know Ashden, to think of living in a reality that doesn't include him seems ludicrous - there would be huge Ashden-shaped hole in my world, and I would probably never even realize why it seemed so incomplete...

This also makes me very aware of that once-thought-of third child, and what I may be missing out on by shutting that door forever...

But that is a story for another day :)


xox

Great Expectations...

I use this blog as my sounding board. I'll talk to people when I want feedback, or opinions, but I've discovered that in writing things out, I get a much better understanding of what I actually want and think.

It's also great for explaining my actions to anyone who cares to understand them:

I hate disappointing the boys. I will do just about anything to avoid it. This is kind of an add-on to the "no lying" thing. If I say something is going to happen, it is damn well going to happen. (We have had several trips to the zoo in the pouring down rain because of this "rule".... I don't think Mark likes it very much....)

This is all fine when I'm in control of the situation, but sometimes I'm not. Others do not share my obsessive need to follow through.

And why should they? These are not their children, and if something comes up, or circumstances change, they should be able to adjust their plans accordingly. But I don't have to like it. (And I just want to take this opportunity to thank everyone in my "first circle" for busting your asses trying not to break plans when you make them with us.... even if it's only 'cause you know I'll throw my toys if you do :)

I try not to tell the boys that something is going to happen until it's pretty much set in stone, to avoid things falling through. They still do of course, but not often.

I have been criticized for this. People have told me that I am not preparing my children for the "real world", where disappointments are a regular part of life.

And while I understand this point of view, I do not agree with it.

Yes, disappointment can be a part of life, but should we expect it?

No.

I want the boys to have high expectations, of themselves and of others. I want them to aspire to greatness, and not to just accept it when life (or people) throw crap at them.

You work through the crap to get the result you want.
You don't keep people that are constantly disappointing you in your life.
You follow through once you have committed to something.

These are important traits to me.

I am their main example of what a person is capable of, and if I do everything in my power to make something happen simply because I have said it will, it will teach them that once you have given your word, you honor it.


Even if it gets a little bit hard? - The car has a flat tyre, and our friends said they don't want to go anymore. Oh look, now it's raining. Really hard.

Yes, damn it! ESPECIALLY when it gets a bit hard! Fix the car, or use a taxi/bus/train/boat. Go by yourselves, or find more friends. Get a coat.


Does all this following through mean it will automatically produce the desired results?

No, this has a flip side just like everything else. I can't control how the boys are going to absorb the information. I could just be setting them up to be disappointed in the world...

So should I not try? Of course I should, this is the way my logic and intuition are telling me to go. Logic states that the potential results outweigh the possible risks, and intuition says that the information will processed the way I intend it.

Lead by example

Expect the impossible.

"Be the change you want to see in the world."


And so I shall.




xox

Truth...

Connah: "What makes us die?"

(Seriously? I seriously have to answer this?)

Me: "You mean people?"

(You are only three, I am not ready to talk about you and death in the same sentence.... I will never be ready to talk about you and death in the same sentence.)

Connah: "Yeah, what makes people die?"

(This is safer, we are not talking about you anymore. I can explain generic causes of death without hyperventilating....)

Me: "People can die from lots of different things, they could have a really bad accident, or get very very sick, or live for a long time and die when they get too old for their bodies to keep going."

(Honesty.... stick to the truth and everything will be fine...)

Connah: "So... when I get really old...... I have to die?"

(Screw honesty. No baby, only bad people die. You are going to live forever...)








Me: "Yes."

Bemused, Bewildered and Confused...

Every parent knows about the "Why?" phase. That lovely time in early childhood where you are constantly pummelled by a steady stream of questions.

But what if it's not a phase?

About a year ago, Connah entered the "why?" stage. He has not let up since.
I answer hundreds of questions a day. Every day. Most are relatively easy to answer, but quite time consuming - he does not accept standard yes or no answers.

Some are not so easy to answer. I am starting to feel like a giant idiot, because I now spend a good deal of time stammering and floundering around trying to come up with logical answers to seemingly simple questions.

Google has become my best friend.

Connahs questions come out of nowhere. Sometimes I can link them back to a conversation we've had, but not always. Also, he usually refuses to discuss the context in which these questions arise from, so even when I have an answer, I'm not entirely sure it contains the information he was after.

I love that he questions things. I love that he has an interest in gathering knowledge in his head. I love that I can help him do that.

I wish I had all the answers.

Connah's questions this week that have left me a stammering idiot:


"Why is blood red?"

"What if two boys want to have a baby?"

"How many people are in jail?"

"What makes fire burn?"

"No, I mean: why is fire hot?"

"If you pour water on a dead fish, will it come alive again?"

"What if you put it in a bucket with HEAPS of water in it?"

"Why don't foxes hatch out of eggs?"



Any takers?


xox

Living on Mars...

I am surrounded by males.

I live in a house with:

One husband.
Two sons.
One Tyrannosaurus-Rex dog.
Three cats.

All of whom are male, except for one of the cats. We decided to risk the title of "Crazy cat people", and adopted her in order to chill out the males, because they hate each other, and are not shy (or quiet) about expressing that hate.

This was a massive fail, as the female - Azaria - is petrified of everything, and will not stay still for long enough to be of any benefit to anyone. She comes inside to eat, if no one is looking, but that is all. Once The Attack got lucky and caught her, convinced that she needed a "hold" (everything needs a "hold"...) That did not end well. One year olds do not have the required skills (or body armor) needed to deal with an onslaught of that magnitude.

So, I went off on a bit of a tangent there, but the point was this: Boys. Everywhere.

This isn't inherently a bad thing, I like boys. It can just be a lot sometimes.

Boy-cats, who are nearing their "twilight years" are not overly pleasant to begin with. They are whiney. And mopey. And get really mad when you move them off of your seat. Add to that the seething hate they have for each other, and you get a spray-fest with each of them trying to claim territory in the house, even though they have lived together for seven years. (Yes, they are both neutered, and shouldn't be spraying, their hatred makes them freaks of nature.)
They have been confined to the lounge if they are inside now, as for some reason the lounge is neutral territory, and they are content to simply glare at each other across the room.

Boy-humans are much more pleasant, but tend to come complete with an obsession for cars. This appears to be a factory setting, one that could only be changed with vast modifications prior to importing.

In our house, there are little cars everywhere. There are cars in the bath, and cars in the beds. They are in every corner, and on every surface. If you sit down on the couch, and it's a bit uncomfortable, check under the cushions. There will be cars.
I recently went to make a coffee, and found a car in the mug I was about to use. No big deal, get a new mug.... oh, another car, what a surprise. Maybe I'll try this one... or this one..... or this one. Yes, you get the idea, a car in every mug. Splendid.

Little cars are taking over the world.

Also, there is boy-talk. I now know more about construction and demolition vehicles than I ever thought possible. (Or necessary.)
It is a little hard being schooled in the basics by a baby:

Me: "Look, Ash, there's a bulldozer!"
The Attack: "No dozer! itza GWADER mummy."

So sorry. Yes, yes it is a grader.

Other hot topics of conversation in our house this week: Spiders, monsters, fighting spiders and monsters, remote controlled people, and the benefits of not wearing pants.

Mark is great for grown up talk, and can usually be counted on for a decent ethical debate. (I do love a good ethical dilemma...) He's not much good at discussing ponies and sparkly things though... I mean, he'll give it a go, but I can tell his heart just isn't in it.

Not that I really have an uncontrollable urge to start singing about unicorns and all things pink, and I really do love all the quirky, messy, unpredictable maleness that fills my days. It's just that sometimes, after spending an hour talking about the various bodily functions able to be performed in a bath, and their corresponding hilarity rating, it would be nice to talk to someone who understands why it's important to wear pants in public.


xox

Into the light...

We are coming up to the 10 month anniversary of Connah being enrolled in childcare. 10 months of bi-weekly hell, of which we have not missed one single session.

We are only now at the stage where the mere mention of kindy doesn't make him start obsessively rocking in a corner, counting down how many days until he has to go. I believe - dare I say it - that the worst is behind us.

Let me explain with a dog story:

Connah has never liked our dog, and I've never really thought twice about it. If Jax is a huge clumsy oaf to me, I can only imagine that it's much more unsettling to have him knock you around when you're only 3 feet tall.

A few weeks ago, Connah asked if Jax could come inside, so he could play with him. This surprised the hell out of me since he hasn't ever voluntarily interacted with Jax, except when he was a very small puppy.

I let the dog in, and the boys spent half an hour jumping all over him, all the while, Connah is patting him saying "He's a good dog now." and "I like Jax, he's my friend now."

And the light bulb went off.

I like Jax now. (Or at least, I don't resent him anymore.) It took all of half a day for Connah to catch on to my new attitude towards the dog.

I've always known that Connah is very sensitive to other peoples moods, especially mine. I just didn't fully realize how much my own personal opinions where helping to shape his own. I recently re-read all my childcare posts, and a question I wrote jumped out at me: "Am I hindering him?" Now I know the answer: Yes.

All the fake smiles, and "Kindy is fun!"s in the world were not going to convince him - he can read me too easily. I had to believe.

Crap.

Before I had children, I fully intended to go back to school and study after they were born. Mark was on-board with being a stay at home dad, and I really liked the idea of having a job that constructively used my brain.

Then they were born.

I had no defense against them. They blasted through to my core, and there they remain, tangled up in my soul.

I couldn't happily skip off to my new brain job every day - only see the boys on weekends, - I would be leaving my soul at home. You can't do good brain work with no soul.

And that is what it feels like when I leave Connah at Childcare - like I'm missing part of my soul.

I didn't know how to be Ok with that. It took me this long to see that most of the problems we were having were mine. I already knew about my issues, but I thought that just made it harder for me. Now I know that I was reflecting all the confusion and fear I had felt as a child, onto him, and he was absorbing it as his own.

I couldn't save me, so I was trying to save him. Every day, I try to save him. The thought that he in turn, was reading my hurt, and trying to save me, is a horrifying thought. No child should be burdened with that.

So I stopped viewing childcare through the eyes of my child-self, stopped trying to save him, when he didn't need to be saved. And it has stopped being devastating.

He is doing so much better now. He interacts with the children more. He voices his opinions occasionally. He even stood up and sung a song at mat time.

I think he will always be quieter than other children. He is introverted, he can be very literal, and he wants to understand everything. He finds other children with their carefree teasing nature difficult to figure out - children don't really explain their actions very often.

He doesn't always "get" them, but he is no longer isolated from them.

And that was really the whole point - not to make him "fit in", but to help him create positive experiences involving his peers.

So, it's taken the best part of a year, a lot of tears, epic amounts of learning, and a fair bit of soul-searching, but I think we are finally out of the shadows.

Can the fun start now, please?






xox