Allowing The Sting

I follow Love and Logic on Facebook, and yesterday, they posted this gem. “Few things push us toward good decisions like the sting associated with bad decisions.”  It resonated with me because I have become very casual this summer.  That has made my kids forget the expectations I have for them, and it has given them a false sense of entitlement. Yesterday, I noticed my voice was loud and commanding. Enter Love and Logic’s post, and I was knocked back on track.

You can imagine the shock this morning when Fritz chose to ignore my instructions, and the consequences showed up. He was especially taken aback when I told him to go to the corner and, when he did not comply, I picked him up and took him to his room. When he started screaming and throwing his toys and running out of his room, he was surprised that I shut the door and held it, so that he could not get out.  And there I sat, for five whole minutes, allowing the sting.

You can imagine the shock on both their faces when I told them to go upstairs and clean the den and to make sure they both did the work, not just Line.  When there were disagreements and she came down to report that he, in fact, was not actually cleaning the den, I told her quietly to get her things and to go into her room and work on it.  I then called Fritz down and told him that he had until I finished my kitchen chores to get his things out of the den or I would do it for him.  And if I did, the toys and things would go away.

Imagine, if you will, a six year old, doing what is asked of her in her room, and a three year old, fighting it all the way.  To the point of telling me that he “can’t do it”.  I’m not really a fan of those two words, “I can’t.”  And when my perfectly capable son, who is able to get all the toys out and drag them throughout the house tells me that he “can’t” put them away, I have a little trouble swallowing that lie.

Try to visualize the looks of horror, the screams of disbelief when, with no fanfare or words, I go into the den and start tossing everything into a garbage bag.  EVERYTHING.  Including their beloved blankets.  Fritz is in a full blown panic now, he’s scream-crying-pleading to me about how important his blanket is.  “Don’t you know mom, how special that is to me?  Don’t you know?”  I tell him that I know, and that I would not do anything to hurt his blanket.  But he will not have it today, because it was in the den, and I told him to get it out.  He made that choice, and now, I had to do what I said I was going to do.   It was very tough allowing that to sting.

When Line found out that her blanket was now “in limbo”, she was equally as concerned, but expressed it in her six year old maturity.  I told her the same, that because they didn’t take care to put their blankets away, they will have to earn them back.  And so, that became their mission today.

It wasn’t an easy mission for the boy, of course.  At three, my children seemed to go through something of a power struggle.  Beef and I agree that there were no terrible two’s at our house, just the torturous threes.  We are over half way through the last batch of them here, and Fritz is giving us a run for our money.  Seems like six is turning out to be similar to three.  Instead of saying, “No.”, “I won’t.”, “I can’t.”, and “You’re not nice.”  She adds to that, “I’m not a grown up, I don’t have to…(clean my room, clean the van, throw my trash away)”

Today, I knew what to expect at swim lessons, because the kids are no longer in the same class, so I packed extra activities and even snacks for them today.  You can imagine my disappointment when Line, being extra dramatic said that she just didn’t understand why Fritz’s class got to go first.  When I told her that it was because the little kids got to go first, and her class would be after that she put her head in her hands and started to cry, with an extra dose of whine and drama.  And I told her to please stop. She didn’t, so I asked her if she would like to get in the pool now, and she said yes, so I told her she could put a floaty on like a baby, and go with the little kids.  She looked at me like I was crazy, and threw her face back into her hands and did that fake whine and drama deal again.  So you can imagine her surprise when I told her to get her shoes on, and I began throwing all those extra activities into the swim bag and pointed toward the door.  In my low voice, I called her out.  On the way to the door, she kept saying, “How embarrassing!”  and “I’ll never show my face here again!”  Imagine my own shock when that came out of her six year old mouth.  I didn’t say a word, just kept following her, as we left the building.  She was talking still, when I told her to zip her lip and get into the van and buckle her seat belt.  I asked her why she was behaving this way.  Was she tired?  Hungry?  This was not really like her.  She didn’t have an answer.  As I drove, she alternated between answering questions, and pleading with me not to take her home.  I told her that we weren’t going home, because D was too little to be left there by himself.  I told her that I was disappointed in how she was acting, and told her that when she was ready to go back into the waiting area, keep it together, enjoy her activities and wait her turn she could let me know.  She said she was ready within three minutes.  She went back into the waiting area and was perfectly well behaved.  Sometimes I think she just needs individual attention.  I did not enjoy allowing that sting, because she can be so dramatic that it looks real.  But luckily, I am pretty good about seeing through to the real stuff, even if others around me are not.

You can imagine their sadness when, after being offered beef and noodles for supper, they declined to eat.  And as I enjoyed my dessert right in front of them, they asked for some.  I had an upbeat voice as I told them that they could enjoy dessert right after they ate their supper.  Line perked up for a second and asked me to reheat hers.  Fritz never even tried.  And so, after a bit of time, I cleared both of their plates (I’m shaking my head right now) Fritz said, “Good!  Thanks for clearing my plate mom! I didn’t really like beef and noodles.”

Beef usually sends the kids to bed hungry when they refuse to eat, which may happen twice a month.  My parents said that we never went to bed hungry, but I remember a few times, when I stayed the night somewhere, that I would have had to eat what was in front of me, or have gone to bed hungry.  I digress, dad said I never went to bed hungry, and used that tone of voice that said, “You should pity your children, at least put bread in their bellies.”  And whenever they refuse to eat, I hear that voice.  And I make the bread.  But tonight was different.  As I was making the bread, I could sense the kids’ relief and excitement that they were going to get their dessert after eating the bread and butter.  Imagine their great disappointment when that did not happen, because bread and butter was not the supper.  Bread and butter was the filler to tide them over to morning.  I empathized with them as I ate their portion of dessert.  It was so sad that I had to do that.  But tomorrow, they can try again!

Parenting is hard.  It’s exhausting, and challenging, and rewarding and fun and loving yes, but mostly, it’s hard.  It’s hard to know the right thing for each kid, at each moment, for every scenerio.  I love being a parent, but dang, it’s hard work!  It’s easy to get caught up in giving kids whatever they want.  When they’re cute and sweet, and you tried to have them for 13 years.  When you’re old and tired, and you just want five minutes alone so you can wipe your own butt.  It’s easy to say, “Yes, you may have all that candy in that bucket, even though you haven’t eaten your supper yet.”  Because you’re thinking, “if they have the candy, they will leave me alone long enough to have a solid thought”.  But doing that only confuses them later, when I want them to wait till supper to eat.  Yes, I must voluntarily surrender that five minutes now, to teach them that mommy is entitled to her five minutes alone in the bathroom, and no, they do not get candy in order to make that happen.  Oh, that five minutes is such a stinger right now.  But I know it will be worth it later, and let’s face it, I’ll be even more tired then!

Today, I allowed the sting, so that I can get back to my normal life, with no yelling, and less fit throwing.