My Daughter Finally Stopped Screaming

I have been listening to my daughter, screaming in her room for the last 15 minutes. She's upset because she didn't get her way--I put her to bed before she finished her project. I always give a 5 minute warning before I interrupt playtime, and bedtime is at 10 o'clock, not 8. So this completely surprised her.

The reason is this: consequences. I told them to pick up the books. They didn't listen. And so the privilege of staying up late was taken away from them. It was beautiful.

I loved the book Listen to Your Kids So They Will Talk and Talk So Your Kids Will Listen. In this book, discipline was mostly based on consequences and giving limited choices, but I had a hard time applying this principle. Not because I didn't agree with it, but rather because I wasn't quick on my feet to find the appropriate consequence for the situation or to offer the right choices. And then when I did think of it, it seemed like the opportunity had passed.

Then I read Positive Discipline. They also talked about consequences and limited choices, and I understood the concept better. And the choices thing--well, I was finally able to implement that quite effectively. But not the consequences part.

Earlier this week, I picked up Kevin Leman's Have a New Kid by Friday. He has a five day battle plan, based on the idea that we are not slaves to our kids wishes. We are not here to see to their happiness and success. Instead, we are here to instill in them strong character traits, right behaviors, and good attitudes. 

He talks about responding rather than reacting. Many times, when I say, "Time for dinner--or bed or school time or cleaning up," they'll say "I'm busy right now." I'm a very laid back mom, and most times they get away with that. Other times, I get very angry and fly off the handle. Yelling about how angry I am. And then I'm the mommy, throwing a temper tantrum. Which just makes me feel like a terrible mom. That's what he means by reacting.

Responding is more thought out. He says give a command and walk away, as if you have every confidence that they will carry through. If they don't, there are no warnings, no lectures, no yelling, no spankings. Nothing. Until they come looking for something from you. Some special privilege that they always get. Milk and cookies after school. A toy when you go shopping. A special trip or outing on the weekend. The car keys so they can go to the mall. They'll throw a fit, thinking that you'll cave. And when you don't. When you just walk away from their fit. When you don't react at all. They'll wonder what just happened.

And they'll learn that they are not in control.

They'll learn mutual respect. It reminds me of when my kids were babies. They would wake up crying and want--not just to be comforted--but to have mommy at their beck and call. Mommy should feed them and comfort them and be available 24/7, right? Mommy doesn't sleep! And the time came when I had to put my foot down and not jump out of bed to answer them. They cried it out. And I felt miserable the whole time.

But the most amazing thing happened. Not only did they learn that they could put themselves back to sleep and that they were still safe without Mommy within reach, they learned that they don't control Mommy with their screams. Suddenly, they were humbler, sweeter, kinder, and more respectful, and not just at bedtime, but throughout the whole day.

That's what Kevin Leman's book Have a New Kid by Friday is about. So far so good. They stopped screaming, and tomorrow morning, they will think twice before ignoring me. However, I am sure the battle has just started. They will test me resolve.

the power of imagination

I sat at the table, drinking my coffee, and Makani pretended that her hand was a coffee bug, trying to drink from my cup. Oh no, children don't get coffee, I explained.

"But this is a baby coffee bug," Makani told me. "Mommy coffee bugs have to give their babies coffee so that they'll grow hair to survive the winter. Mommy and Daddy bugs don't drink coffee. Just the babies."

And then she was off, racing into some unseen world that I couldn't see or touch. She described for me the anatomy (101 legs), the habitat, and the culture--and probably anything else you can think a bug encyclopedia might tell you about bugs. It probably took her an hour or more.

A year ago, it was hole hogs--shortly after ground hogs day. I think that's where she got inspired for this creature. Hole hogs have beaver tales and build houses and love their young. Hole hog babies know that their mommies and daddies love them. For weeks, our couches were torn apart because the cushions were used to build hole hog houses.

And several years before, it was Big Sister Dog. She was blue and bigger than Clifford, and she had a long, long neck and wings. She would eat the clouds and breathe fire. When there was a fire or someone in trouble, she was always there to rescue puppies and people. Big Sister Dog went with us everywhere.

On the other hand, Rowena--though she does pretend at times--is very practical. If you say, "There's a rug on the floor," she would say, "No, that's a blanket." If you suggest to drink tea out of an empty teacup, she'll point out that there is nothing in it. Or if you call her a puppy because she is pretending to bark, she'll say, "No, I am Rowena Karmelle Webb." 

But she too has her own little stories. I loved watching her play with the Lego's she got for her birthday last year because it was the first time I got to see her create stories of her own. She built a pirate ship. But they were good pirates, she assured me. They had a pile of food stored on their ship. What did the pirates eat? Cookies, of course. But they also had good-for-you food too. What was that? Sandwiches.

She put all the pirates to bed and got them up and moved them about the ship and made them swim in the water. What a joy! I loved it. I would sit by and watch, asking questions now and then to help her flush out her story. But mostly, I just listened. My heart got all soft and mushy, and I thought I was going to cry happy tears. I hadn't expected to have such a vivid imagination.

This morning, Kaylee says to me as she looks out the back window, "T.J. Webb is outside in the snow because it is slippery." She pronounces each word so carefully and clearly. And I am just laughing inside. First off, it amuses me that she calls him by his first and last name, rather than "Daddy." But also, he isn't out there. He's in the bedroom getting ready for church.

I think it is their vivid imaginations that make my world spin around. Without it, parenting would lose its joy and delight. Then parenting would only be the endless task of herding cats in the direction you want them to go. And I would be a mess of frustration and anger.

Please comment and share some stories about your children and their imaginations.

too little butter

That's how I feel lately. Like Bilbo Baggins said, Too little butter spread over toast. We have been sick and I am still recovering. Tired as I am, simple tasks seem overwhelming, like doing dishes, putting kids to bed, school time... It doesn't help that Kaylee woke us up three times last night and two times the night before.

It also doesn't help that I have been so focused on writing. This week, it was a race. Knowing that I would be starting a job next week, I wanted to be done. But then I want to be finished. It feels like it is long past time, and the act of polishing is becoming quite tedious. I am so close to finishing this book I can almost taste it. And there's a self-published book contest in May. If I can finish in February and publish in March, maybe, just maybe I could enter this contest in time.

I wonder how other mothers do it all because I sure know that I fall down and struggle and mess up so much. The house is a mess and I often feel 10 steps behind. There is only so much I can do in a day, and I wish I had two of me. One to clean and move the children in the right direction (to pick up their clothes and toys, to sit down and eat, to head off to bed), and one to do the schooling and the writing.

Kindergarten and preschool teachers have teacher aids. And I want one too. Someone to keep the focus and keep things moving and help me get things done. They would get the kids' breakfast while I put dinner in the crockpot, and then they'd do the morning dishes while I do schooltime. They would entertain Kaylee while I work with Makani and Rowena, and then I would sit down to write while they put the kids down for naps. They'd make sure everything was straightened up and put away and maybe do the laundry.

When nap time's over, the house would be wonderful, and there would be plenty of time to have dinner and do the dishes, and I would then have plenty of energy to play with the kids. After bedtime, I could write some more and still do schooling, parenting, and have a clean house. Oh yes, life would be great if I could duplicate myself for just the hours between 9 and 3.

Or be rich enough to hire a maid.

sibling love

When Rowena was born, there was no sister prouder than Makani. Visitors would greet Makani first, the toddler who met them at the door, before they came to see the baby. They'd ask her how she was doing, and she'd just point at Rowena, as if to say, "See what I got?"

We took a few words of advice from a friend of ours--I can never thank them enough for their wisdom--and so when Rowena was born, we said to Makani, "See what we got for you! This is your new sister!" Makani ripped her little hat off and gave her a big kiss on the top of her head.

We brought Rowena home from the hospital and laid her on a blanket on the floor, and Makani pouted on the couch because we had stopped her from squishing her sister. 

Memaw said, "She's jealous." 

But I wasn't so sure about that. She hadn't shown any jealousy in the past, just a great desire to hold and pet and squish her sister. I said to Makani, "It's okay, you're allowed to be with your sister." Sure enough, Makani jumped off the couch and laid down beside Rowena, holding her hand. For an hour. They just held hands and snuggled, and Rowena sucked on Makani's fingers. There was no little girl happier than Makani at that moment.

When we brought Kaylee home two years later, Makani was happy. Rowena was not. She was jealous of Kaylee's time with Mommy, and she was jealous that Makani loved Kaylee so much. As time went by, it seemed that Kaylee was always on the outside. The Baby. Too little to join in and always causing trouble for her sisters. I knew we weren't having anymore children, and so Kaylee had no playmates.

I have learned that 2 children is easier than 1. Once the youngest is able to walk, they entertain themselves, giving parents some much needed free hands. But 3 children is harder than 1. I imagine that 4 would be easier. Then you have 2 pairs that can entertain themselves rather than 1 third wheel who wants constant parental interaction.

Maybe it was partially that I missed having babies that made me want that fourth child. For six years of my life, I was either pregnant or nursing, and I had many friends and relatives having babies. And my arms were empty. And it felt oh so strange. What was I going to do with myself? 

I guess, as a mother, I had to redefine myself. I am more than a mother, but I am still a mother. Just a different mother. A mother of growing children, not a mother of babies. And I had to come to terms that there really would be no more babies in our family. Then I took the time to build a friendship between Rowena & Kaylee. Oh, Kaylee still seeks out Mommy to play rather than her sisters, but I no longer worry about her being friendless. 

And I have become something more as well. I am a home school mom now, and I am a writer.

A couple months ago, I was walking across the church parking lot to the swing set with Rowena & Kaylee when another little girl--about 6 months older than Makani--came up to us. Kaylee said so clearly (remember she's only 2, so to understand anything she says is quite a feat), "This is Rena. She's a big girl." And that was also a triumph because that was the first time Kaylee had actually said Rowena's name. Before she had been "Kani" as if that was equivalent to "girl."

And again, yesterday at church, someone spoke to Kaylee about her pretty dress, and her immediate response was something about her sisters, Kani and Rena. That's her jumbled way of saying their names. She went on and on about them. I wasn't sure what she was saying, but she took this opportunity to tell this perfect stranger all about her world. And her world is these two wonderful sisters that she looks up to so much.

And so Rowena now has two sisters who love her and cherish her and brag about her to all their friends and everyone they meet.

all is not well

There's nothing worse than sick children except maybe having sick children while you are sick too. This is our second weak of illnesses in the house. TJ got it first and then passed it to the kids, one at a time. On the one hand, it's nice to deal with one child at a time throwing up. On the other, I'd like to get it over with.

And I am sick too. * squeak * I was having a major gluten reaction, which started as feverish, achy skin and extreme fatigue and a strange rash on my arm and then left me with a sore throat and a cough and no voice. It laid me out for about 5 days, but now, I am actually getting much better. * cough *

Now that R is starting to eat a little, M is curled up on the couch with her throw-up bag. This virus seems to last about 4 days, so as she has just started last night, life will be very miserable for us. 

Yesterday was TJ's birthday. His birthday wish for next year is that nobody throws up.

musings of a two year old

I've tucked her in, given her kisses, and told her good night. I read her a story. Twice. And then another story. But she still doesn't want to let me go. She pats her pillow and says "Mommy sleep here." Her blue eyes look at me with expectation, and though I really want to read a book and write on my own book and browse the internet and send an email to a friend, I stop for just another moment to snuggle up beside her.

She insists that I've gotta get under the covers beside her, and so I crawl into her blankets and lay down. Then she sweeps her arms around me and gives me the biggest hug that touches a mother's heart and makes her melt. Then she rolls onto her back, and staring up at the ceiling, she begins to tell me about her day. Her brow is furrowed in a serious expression.

"My lips have colors." She touches her mouth with both her hands. I'm thinking about how great it is that she would say this. I've been pointing out colors more, and I've been reading more color books.

"That's right. You're lips are pink," I say.

"My lips are green." She runs her fingers over her lips, like she's smearing on lip gloss. "My lips are yellow and blue. Kani says something something something, and Rena says..." I can't quite make out what she's saying about what her sisters have told her. But it's quite important to her.

She tells me about a movie she watched. I only understand a few words--the names of the characters--but I just say, "uh-huh." It seems more important to me to let her share what's on her heart than for me to understand every word.

She continues talking for five minutes, and I wish I had a tape recording to remember every part of what she shared with me. To think what I would have missed if I hadn't stayed just a moment longer...

Knock Knock Jokes

M has been telling Knock Knock Jokes, and she doesn't quite understand them yet. She doesn't understand the concept of a pun, so she tells the most bazaar jokes.

"Knock Knock," she says to me.

"Who's there?"

"Rita."

"Rita who?"

"Rita spider! Isn't that funny?"

She's six, and I think these jokes are great. But now she's got K doing them too. If M doesn't quite understand, K has no clue what she's doing. She's just two.

"Knock Knock."

"Who's there?"

"K."

"K who?"

"K and Mommy and M and R."

R hasn't really told me any knock knock jokes. I'm looking forward to what she comes up with.