parenting

Incident 1: Last week I showed someone my picture book. They read it and expressed amazement at the main character who is always into trouble. They seemed to feel that I was exaggerating for literary effect. The conversation drifted before I had the chance to make clear that there isn’t any exaggeration in the book. It is a fairly accurate representation of living with Gleek.

Incident 2: At church on Sunday I watched a friend of mine with her 18 month old grand daughter. Throughout the one hour meeting the little girl sat politely on her grandma’s lap and played with little toys quietly. I was fascinated by that because it is completely outside my experience. I never had a toddler willing to sit politely.

I’m forced to the conclusion that what I consider normal behavior for children, is much wilder and higher energy than what other people consider normal. The next question to consider is whether this wildness is due to a lack of discipline from me or if it is something innate that would be much worse without the discipline that I provide. Unfortunately that isn’t something I can see standing here in the trenches.

Long ago, when Howard and I were expecting our first child, we were given a humorus list by a friend. The list offered suggestions about how to prepare yourself for parenthood. It had such gems as, preparing for feeding by hanging a gourd with a hole in it on a string. You then swing the gourd and try to spoon oatmeal into the hole. Or, to prepare for dressing a child, you try to shove an octopus into a string bag. The suggestion to prepare for shopping with a child was to take a live goat with you to the store. You were then expected to pay for anything the goat damaged or ate. If you wanted to have more than one child, take more than one goat.

This is on my mind because I took all four goats children to the store today. I did this on purpose as a family togetherness activity. I announced that we had $10 with which to buy ice cream and toppings. That part of it worked well. We had some lively debates over whether it was better to get two cartons of ice cream or additional toppings. Also whether to get a more expensive brand with a cooler flavor or a cheaper one. As far as a budgeting lesson goes I think the experience was a good one.

Unfortunately interspersed with the negotiations about toppings and prices and ice cream, were other exchanges. Local grocery stores have taken to providing shopping carts that have plastic cars on the front. Thus little kids can drive a car while mom shops. This actually makes sense and the kids like it. I am unable to explain why our local Albertsons went one step further and instead of a car, there is a bright pink butterfly for the kids to sit in. A bright pink butterfly with a pair of steering wheels. Weird. Anyway we snagged the butterfly cart. Gleek and Patches each claimed a steering wheel and Link climbed into the basket. Kiki volunteered to push the cart and all was well for about two minutes. Then Gleek decided that driving the butterfly was boring, so she wanted to sit on top of it. Sitting on top is not recommended even with an adult driving the cart. Kiki was blundering all over the place and hitting things while she tried to get a feel for how huge the butterfly actually is. I’d always associated butteflies with lightness and gracefulness. This one lumbered.

After the “you may not sit on top” argument, Gleek decided to join Link in the basket. There was just enough room if they were both polite. They weren’t. Not only that, but Patches decided that the basket was the place to be and climbed into it while my back was turned. I was trying to get them to think about whether they should choose butterscotch or caramel and they were squabbling over squatters rights.

Then came the checking out. I was tired of the butterfly/jungle gym, so I ordered all the kids out of it and sent Kiki to go return it to the front of the store. Then I had three loose children all ready to touch the candy and magazines. Or, in the case of Gleek, to do spinning tricks on the ailse bars between check out lanes. I kept raising my voice trying to get their attention. They kept scattering, each with his or her own agenda. I attempted to bring it back under control by ordering them all to hold hands, only Kiki didn’t want to hold hands with Gleek, but Gleek desperately wanted to hold Kiki’s hand.

We made it back to the car. Then we made it home and ate the hard won ice cream. I hope they remember the happiness of the group experience. I hope they remember the lessons about fitting inside a budget. I hope that they remember being together as a family. I hope they don’t remember Mom being frustrated at them all.

It is always a difficult walk being out in public with my kids. I have to try to make sure that they don’t impinge upon others. But which draws more negative attention, them running amok or me hollering to try to keep them all in line? It is better than it used to be, but it is still hard to manage 5 agendas for one shopping trip.

In the year 2004 Howard left a job that paid over $100,000 per year to become a full time cartoonist. When a company pays you that much money, they expect a large portion of your life in return. Howard finally reached the point where he was no longer willing to trade life for money. I fully supported his choice to quit. It was totally the right decision. I got to watch with joy as our family restructured around having a Daddy who works from home. I got to watch Howard really be a Daddy.

What can I say about Howard as a father? He’s the kind of dad who cooks for his kids and then loves to watch them eat. He brings home treats from the grocery store just because a certain child will like it. He takes time out of his schedule to take each of the kids on an individual outing. The kids love these “dates” even if they’re only going to Sam’s Club. He frequently calls me from conventions because he found something there that one of the kids will like and wants to buy it. He plays tickle games with the kids. He lets the kids sit at his elbows while he colors comic strips. He keeps toys in his office so they can play there quietly. He also knows how to use his daddy voice to good effect to keep the kids in line. The kids don’t like that so much, but they need it. When Howard is gone at a convention I’m always fielding questions about where he is and when he’ll come home.

Howard frequently bemoans the fact that he isn’t a better father. I think this bemoaning is actually a measure of how excellent he is at being a father. Complacency and excellence to not often coexist.

I’m so very glad to have Howard as husband and father to my kids.

This morning Kiki was screamingly mad at me because her drawers were empty when she wanted to get dressed. According to her, this was my fault because I failed to make her empty her laundry basket. My refusal to accept responsibility for the consequences of her not doing her chores made Kiki very mad.

Also on the “made Kiki mad this morning” list:

The fact that I assumed that getting her out of bed once should have been enough.

Gleek reclaiming her brush from the bathroom where Kiki had stashed it. The unfairness that Gleek’s brush is the best one in the house and the only brush that Kiki wants to use and now Gleek would lose it so that Kiki couldn’t use it anymore.

The fact that Howard was going to scold Kiki for making everyone late.

Gleek refusing to leave the bedroom so that Kiki could dress in privacy.

The fact that in order to get Gleek out of the room, I gave Gleek a mobile which Kiki made. Kiki didn’t want the mobile, but she was ready to fight tooth and nail to see it thrown away rather than let Gleek have it for 3 minutes so I could focus on helping Kiki get ready.

The fact that we are unable/unwilling to give her a room of her own.

I don’t like to send kids off to school upset, but sometimes they don’t give me any other choice.

Gleek deals with emotions in ways that are fundamentally different from my own. Because of this, part of me is convinced that her management of emotions is wrong and I need to teach her how to do it differently. I need to teach her to do it my way. …only she isn’t me and I’m not sure she is capable to reacting to the world the way that I do. I could spend years trying to correct this perceived fault in my daughter, or I can learn to accept the difference and try to see why her way works for her.

As Gleek’s mother, it is also my job to teach her emotional tools so that she can handle what life throws at her. I’m going to have a really hard time teaching her how to use tools that are foreign to me.

I’ve been approaching Gleek’s Kindergarten adjustment backwards. Every day I keep asking the teacher “How’d she do?” and I get a tale of the most difficult parts of Gleek’s day. Then I’d discuss those with Gleek. With so much focus on the negative, no wonder Gleek isn’t sure she likes Kindergarten.

I need to be asking the teacher “What did she do really well today?” and dismissing tales of misbehavior with a “we’ll try to do better tomorrow.”

I also need to be making sure that the hour after kindergarten is over is a quiet time. Patches can lay in his bed looking at books while Gleek reads to me and I read to her and we talk about happy things. I did this today and Gleek seems calmer, happier, more peaceful this afternoon. For the first time since kindergarten began she isn’t frantically seeking a friend to play with.

I am living in the Land of Squabble this morning. We have squealing and yelling and shoving and hitting every 5 minutes or so. In fact I’ve already had to leave off writing this entry to play mediator/policeman/judge. I am all three branches of government this morning as I lay down laws, pass judgments, and hand out punishments. None of us are very happy with the others today.

I think that most of the squabbling is post-first-week-of-school decompression. I was up late last night talking through social/friendship issues with Kiki. I was up late the night before talking over anxieties with Link. Gleek is chomping at the bit for Kindergarten to start next week. She is so frantic for things to do, that she is deliberately tormenting her siblings. I suspect that she is also anxious about school. Patches has extremely mixed feelings about potty training.

What they really need is for me to be a psychologist/therapist and help them work it all through. Unfortunately my children have emotional avoidance and displacement down pat. What they all need is quiet individual time with Mom or Dad. Unfortunately there is no quiet in The Land of Squabble.

As for me, I’d be happy if I could take a shower without having blood drawn during my absence.

This morning I went to Link’s school to discuss his class placement. He wanted a male teacher, I felt like it would be a good thing. Last spring I put in a request to that effect. Last week I found that he’d been assigned to a female teacher rather than the male teacher in his grade. I really needed to understand why my request was ignored and I needed to understand how this whole class selection process works.

I prepared in advance for this meeting. I dressed nicely on purpose because appearances matter. I wanted to walk into the meeting and send a message that I was a competant, caring parent who honestly wanted to understand. I also wanted to send the message that I truly value the administrator’s proffessional input. I went in person because I wanted to stand out from the throng of parents who were submitting written requests for changing their child’s placement. I very definitely did not want to start a war over this. I’m going to have to work with these teachers and administrators for another 10 years. I don’t want them labelling me as a problem parent because I may require their help in the future. The time may come for me to start a war, this issue may be the cause for which I start the war, but I don’t want to arrive with guns blazing when diplomacy might gain my point.

So, in a very careful frame of mind I went into the meeting. I learned several things both good and bad. First I learned that Link’s scheduled teacher is young, female, and very energetic. The male teacher for that grade is soft spoken. This information caused me to re-evaluate my request. Link has responded to energetic male teachers and his female teachers have all been soft-spoken. I think that the energetic/soft-spoken dynamic is more important than the male/female dynamic. Link needs an energetic teacher, one he can’t tune out. I’d love for the teacher to be male and energetic, but that isn’t an option for this year. It turns out that he already has the best placement possible. I declined to move him.

I knew walking in that class placement is a highly charged issue. I met with both the principal and the placement administrator. I could tell that they were prepared for a battle. They’ve fought battles before. They have to deal with hostile parents every single year. I could see that they were trying to be open and helpful, but they were ready to entrench and defend if necessary. Once they realized that I had no intention of going ballistic, they went beyond the call of duty. The placement administrator went to the point of walking me down to Link’s future classroom and showing me how it was being set up. The administrators really do care for the welfare of the children, but they also have to defend themselves and their system from aggressive parents. Sometimes parents interpret this as caring for the system more than the kids.

The bad things I learned were about the system itself. I placed a request last May. By the time I was allowed to place that request classes had already been assigned. Class lists were set last May, but no one would tell any parents what they were until August. This morning I got to see the request sheet. My request was near the bottom of the list and dated for July. I turned it in in May, it must have gotten lost somehow. The administrator hastened to assure me that my request had not been ignored. She really didn’t like me using the word ‘ignored.’ She informed me that none of the requests had been considered yet. I let this tidbit pass without comment, but I wonder why they bother to allow requests at all if they won’t be considered until after class lists are published? The answer is that they don’t like to allow parent requests. Parent requests create lots of administrative problems and extra work. But they also can’t exclude parents entirely, so they have a week were placement requests are allowed. This allows parents to feel that they are doing something, but the request may or may not have any effect on class placement depending on space, move outs, move ins, and other factors.

Another disturbing thing is that I am unable to find anyone who takes responsiblity for assigning the teacher my son got. Last year’s teacher implied that it was done by computer. I know that the teachers at each grade level have a meeting about placements, but last year’s teacher didn’t know anything about the teachers for the next grade level because they were all new. How are they supposed to make considered placements that way? Can it really be called a placement meeting when what the teachers are really doing is merely tweaking a computer generated list? The administrators imply that class placement is based on this placement meeting, but the teachers I’ve talked to imply that the placement is based on an administrator list. Everyone implies that someone else is in charge. I wonder if no one is really in charge or if they are all trying to be professionally courteous and not give parents anyone to specifically attack. I would be much happier if I believed that someone at the school was really looking at the needs of my son and making a considered decision about which class he should be in for the next year. I don’t feel like that is happening. I got lucky this year, at least I hope I did. This is not my year to go to battle, but I won’t be forgetting what I’ve learned about the system.

Regular perusers of my journal will by now have realized that Gleek has entered a challenging phase. “Challenging” is being used as a verb not an adjective. She is challenging my authority. She is challenging the family rules. She is trying to see how far rules can be made to bend to suit her whims.

Today she told me an outright lie. She and her friend asked for a marker. I told them “No” since the last three times they’d had a marker it had resulted in massive amounts of body art on Gleek, recoloring the playset purple, and coloring the neighbor’s toddler’s ears completely purple and yellow. Yes, the entire ear, on both ears, one yellow, one purple. I don’t get it either. No more markers for these two. A very short time after my refusal to provide a marker, Gleek and her friend announced their intention to return to his house. Gleek announced this by saying “I’m going to M’s house! I don’t have a marker!” This made me very suspicious. I was even more suspicious when she didn’t want to let me get close to her. She had a marker concealed up her pants leg. I sent the friend home and told Gleek she couldn’t play with friends for the rest of the day.

She took the restriction pretty well. We found other things for her to do. Then when bedtime rolled around I left Gleek and Patches eating a snack while I went to the bathroom. When I returned they were gone. I called. I checked all the rooms. Twice. I called some more. I checked the front yard. I was ready to start knocking on neighbor’s doors. I wasn’t scared yet, but I was getting mad. Howard joined the search. He was the one who found them. In the family room. Hiding under blankets. and giggling.

Howard scolded them severely. This made Patches howl in fear. He isn’t used to getting scolded. The scolding seemed to bounce right off of Gleek. But it didn’t bounce off completely, because after all the scolding was over (I contributed some too,) the two of them curled up on the couch with me for snuggling and reassurance. Gleek informed me: “Daddy used his ultra voice.”

Indeed he did.