Traveling Blues

Q: We’re heading out to the beach next month and I’m already dreading the seven-hour car trip with our three, elementary school age kids. Last year, the three of them fought and picked on each other the entire trip. I don’t think our family can survive a repeat of that. Help!

A: Oh, I feel your pain but don’t worry, I have a most ingenious solution, one that will make the car trip much more pleasant. It’s called “Ticket to Ride.”

Here’s how it works: Each child has three tickets for the car trip to the beach. You outline clearly as to what behaviors will not be tolerated. For the behaviors, be specific and target the top five, such as

1. No name calling.
2. No hitting, pinching, slapping, tickling, etc.
3. No whining about someone else’s behavior.
4. Only one “Are we there yet?” allowed from each child.
5. No taking another child’s things.

Each time a child does one of the target behaviors—the very first time—then that child loses one ticket. A child must have a ticket left when you arrive at the beach in order to play on the shore when the family hits the beach for the first time, whether that will be when you arrive or the next morning, depending on what you usually do.

Then stick with it. If all three children lose their tickets before you arrive at your destination, then all three kids sit out under the umbrella in their street clothes while you and your husband live it up on the beach.

This puts the responsibility for their behavior on the ones who can control it—the kids. You might find you have a very quiet car ride for most of the seven hours.

Do you have a parenting question you would like to see answered on this blog? Email Sarah through the contact page with Parenting Question in the subject line.

A Modern Umbilical Cord

A very long time ago, mothers used long apron strings to keep a toddler out of harms way, tying the child to a piece of furniture that allowed the kid movement but not to run away or fall into the fireplace. Most parents would agree that it’s not necessary to have apron strings today, but what they don’t seem to realize is that cell phones have replaced apron strings as a way to keep a child connected to the mother ship. (Let’s face it: most fathers are not the ones advocating for their kids to have cell phones—it’s the mothers who feel the need to stay in near-constant touch with the children.)

Today’s child is connected to his parents more than any other previous generation because of the rise of mobile devices. An article in Psychology Today put it this way: “The perpetual access to parents infantilizes the young, keeping them in a permanent state of dependency. Whenever the slightest difficulty arises,” the child calls the parent immediately for guidance. “They’re not learning to manage for themselves.”

Cell phones for kids have stunted their growth in that children are not learning how to internalize an image of their parents and the values/advice Mom and Dad imparted to them. That image and recollection is crucial for children because it’s used whenever they find themselves facing difficulty or uncertainty, becoming the adults they know and being able to make a good decision. But with Mom or Dad only a quick call away, kids are not figuring things out on their own, relying instead on calling their parents for the answer.

Another way cell phones are undermining growth is the inability to plan ahead. Teens and college students often phone friends with things like, “I’m finished studying. Let’s go out for pizza.” If they didn’t have mobile devices, they would have to think about their schedules and arrange a meeting time—planning ahead.

Mobile phones also “promote fragility by weakening self-regulation.” In other words, cell phones condition the user to getting what she wants right away. That in turn generates frustration and impatience at the drop of a hat. And it also makes it harder for relationships to succeed because the person has a much lower threshold for frustration and wants things to work out immediately.

Definitely some food for thought when it comes to children and mobile phones. Personally, we have no plans for any of our children to have cell phones, mobile devices, tablets, etc., until they are old enough to pay for said devices and data plans themselves. Information like this makes it that much easier for us to keep that goal in mind as our children grow.

Until next time,

Sarah

Note: Information quoted came from “A Nation of Wimps,” Psychology Today, originally published Nov. 1, 2004.

Meltdowns! (And We’re Not Talking About Ice Cream)

Q: My four-year-old son keeps throwing temper tantrums in stores. It usually starts when I deny him something he wants (cereal, candy, a coloring book, etc.). As soon as I say “no,” down on the floor he goes, kicking and screaming. I confess that I’ve given in because I’m so embarrassed, but I know that’s not going to stop the tantrums. What can I do?

A: First of all, let me assure you that we’ve all had kids meltdown in public, whether it’s in a store or a restaurant or at the park. Please don’t think the majority of people are judging you because your child has become a squirming mass of temper.

Second, you can cure your son of his public—and private—outbursts with a little planning and thick skin. The planning will help you not be caught off guard when the tantrum ensures, the thick skin will help you follow through on those plans.

Here’s what you do. Each day, visit a store for no other reason than to train your child on how to behave. Have a few things you can buy on a list but don’t expect to do any major shopping. This is purely for his benefit.

Then give him explicit instructions, but only three or four at the most. Those might include

1. Hold my hand inside the store.
2. Don’t touch unless you ask permission.
3. We’re only going to get what’s on my list.

Finally, off to the store. Plan on staying about half an hour, browsing around to give him a chance to throw a temper tantrum (yes, you read right—you are hoping he will have a meltdown so you can put phase two into action). When he asks for something not on the list—and his previous behavior has indicated he will—simply say it’s not on the list and continue your shopping. When he starts to throw himself on the ground and cry, calmly leave your cart or basket, pick him up and leave the store.

Remember, you’re expecting this and already know what you’re going to do. Don’t comment on his behavior, simply buckle him in his car seat and return home. Then your son gets to spend the rest of the day in his room—stripped of play value—and to bed directly after an early dinner (5 p.m. is ideal, so he’s in bed by 5:30 p.m., lights out). One or two such trips with the same end result and he’ll straighten up—and you’ll be able to take him shopping without meltdowns.

Do you have a parenting question you would like to see answered on this blog? Email Sarah through the contact page with Parenting Question in the subject line.

Fallen Angel

The following is a true story, one that happened a few years ago.

“Mommy, is it time to look at the cake book?” my soon-to-be five-year-old daughter asks with eager anticipation. I mentally check the date. Yep, her birthday is really only a week away.

“Sure, honey,” I sigh, reaching for the “Baker’s Cut-Up Cake Party Book” with fear and trepidation.

Some of my fondest memories as a child are of picking out my birthday cake from this very same book. Will I have the daisy? The house? Choosing was part of the birthday fun.

When I had children of my own, I called my mother and begged for the cake book. Visions of perfect sailboats and delicate doll cakes danced in my head. But then reality raised its ugly head.

My mother’s cakes were splendid with icing clinging to all the right places and edges ruler-straight. She wasn’t even phased the year my older brother gobbled up one of the cupcakes destined to be a turtle leg. The turtle turned up with the correct number of appendages and all was well in my world.

But when my oldest child picked her first cake for her second birthday—a deer head, a la Bambi—I realized I was in trouble. Sure enough, my deer cake turned out to resemble not a cute dainty fawn, but a lopsided moose. I froze the yellow cake prior to frosting it as recommended and whipped the chocolate icing to creamy smoothness, but still bits of cake flaked off and ended up mixed in with the icing. The deer looked like he had contracted a mild case of white chicken pox.

The subsequent daisy, umbrella, butterfly, heart and bunny cakes were more or less recognizable. More importantly, I told myself repeatedly as each birthday brought my cake foibles to the surface, the cakes tasted good. My girls were very forgiving as to small mistakes like unequal wings or a leaning umbrella. But I knew the day was coming when the cake I was asked to make would be a total disaster in my child’s eyes.

My cake Waterloo came one summer in the form of my second daughter’s fifth birthday choice: an angel.

On the surface, this appeared to be a fairly straightforward project. Bake a sheet cake, cut out the wings and head piece. Throw on some frosting, gumdrops, and coconut. Voila! An angel.

The cake—the reliable Starlight White Cake from a Betty Crocker cookbook—came out golden. I made the icing on the day of the birthday, opting for the cake book’s 7 Minute Frosting instead of my usual buttercream in the hopes that the 7 Minute Frosting would be the stardust needed to make this cake truly magical.

With a wing and a prayer, I picked up a knife and started slicing the cake. As I concentrated on getting the angles straight for the wings, I neglected to keep in mind that the narrow neck would become part of the angel’s face.

The Angel Cake, aka Angel "Beaker"

When I put the pieces together, the wings looked fine but the “head” piece sat awkwardly atop a narrow neck, leaving no room for a face. Things snowballed from there. The “yellow” food dye turned the white coconut orange, so the angel’s hair was more carroty instead of blonde. The gumdrops formed a necklace instead of a smile due to the absence of her lower jaw. And the icing kept pulling up bits of cake, so that she looked rather mottled. The angel cake ended up being an uncanny resemblance to Beaker from The Muppets.

When my daughter saw her cake, she said, “Mommy, it doesn’t look like the picture”—the understatement of the year.

I started to tell her that I was sorry the cake didn’t turn out like I had planned, but she stopped me by saying, “It’s okay, Mommy. I love you.”

And that made the agony I had gone through fade away. We took the sad little angel-Beaker hybrid cake to her birthday celebration at her grandparents’ house. The birthday girl danced in her princess outfits and happily gobbled up her cake and ice cream. In a five-year-old’s eyes, it was a good birthday.

As for me, I am girding my loins for the next birthday. Already, I am devising ways to convince the child to pick a layer cake with the name spelled out in icing on the top. I think I can accomplish that without too many mishaps. 

Skin Deep

Q. I’m a dark-skinned Hispanic and my husband is white. Our children have a medium-brown skin tone. However, our youngest daughter (age 5) gets very upset about the color of her skin. She’s cried when looking into a mirror and whines about not being “peach colored” like her friends from school. We’ve told her how beautiful her skin is, but she doesn’t seem to hear us and cries with her hands over her face. Frankly, it’s starting to freak me out a little bit. What can we do?

A: If it wasn’t her skin color, it might be her hair is straight and she wants it curly or her eyes are blue when her best friend’s are brown. This is the age when kids notice and comment on differences between themselves and others, so this is perfectly normal.

However, this sounds like it’s becoming a bigger issue than it needs to be because it’s about skin color, rather than eye color, and skin color can take on so much social baggage. Overall, the problem is that you’re taking her comments about her complexion much too seriously. At this point, you’ve likely said all you need to say on the subject and she’s expressed herself enough on the topic as well. It’s time to pull the plug and stop the drama merry-go-round.

Simply put, you need to stop talking about her skin tone. Talking too much about a subject gives the topic more weight than it deserves, and can convince the child that she’s right to be as concerned about it as she is. Stop talking about it, stop trying to convince her she’s beautiful just the way she is, stop asking her what’s wrong with her skin tone.

If she brings it up—and she will!—tell her that the subject is closed, that you’ve talked about it enough with her. Then walk away and don’t engage her attempts to restart the conversation (which she’ll probably do).

If she starts to cry about her complexion being too brown or whatever, then tell her in a gentle tone of voice that she should do her crying in her room. This is not heartless because you are helping her learn to control her emotions. She doesn’t need an audience for that lesson.

Finally, completely stop talking about her appearance. When she brings up her skin, say, “We’ve already talked about that,” and change the topic. If she persists, remind her that the topic is closed. Repeat these steps as often as you need to and she’ll eventually give up and move on to other things. 

The Beauty of Because I Said So

Are you comfortable with saying those four words, “Because I said so,” to your child? Most parents would answer no, that those words can damage a child’s self-esteem and the parental relationship with the child.

That much-maligned phrase has become the pariah of parenting, the one thing you never want to be caught uttering to your children. Rest assured, dear reader, that I have uttered those words many times to my children and the sky hasn’t fallen.

But I will lay out my case for making “Because I said so” part of every parent’s vocabulary. Here are four excellent reasons why sometimes, it’s the only answer to a child’s question or comment.

1. “Because I said so” reaffirms parental authority. Parents shouldn’t have to explain themselves constantly to their children. Let’s face it, our explanations are not going to be acceptable anyway because children aren’t logical beings, so we save ourselves—and them, too—from fruitless conversations or arguments.
2. “Because I said so” gives a child an honest answer. Sometimes, the reason is only because you, the parent, want something done a certain way. That’s all there is to it, and using those four words conveys that to the child.
3. “Because I said so” eliminates needless arguments between parent and child. Children are not going to understand our reasons for most things we do until they are parents themselves.
4. “Because I said so” says the parent knows best for the child. Children have no concept of what’s in their best interest, so parents have to step in and guide them until the child reaches adulthood.

Keep in mind that “Because I said so” should never be shouted at a child, only delivered in a warm, resolute voice. The words are essentially asking the child to trust the parent to do the right thing. Kids don’t know what is the best thing for them—they are governed by emotions and wants.

As with any child-rearing method, use “Because I said so” sparingly, as it’s not right for every situation. Having a stock phrase like “Because I said so” will benefit both parent and child when it’s used judiciously, appropriately and lovingly. I encourage you to add it to your repertoire today.

Until next time,

Sarah

When Children Fail

Q: My eleven-year-old daughter tried out for a local children’s theatrical production and didn’t get a speaking part. She did make it to the chorus, but she’s crushed and says she doesn’t want to be in the chorus. She’s been moping around the house ever since she found out and I’m at a loss with how to help her.

A: Defeat in any form can taste bitter, but especially to a child, as children usually count on something happening just because they want it to occur. Lengthy explanations as to why she wasn’t picked are not going to help because she’s not mature enough to appreciate that nor does she want to understand.

The truth is always best, and it doesn’t have to be mean. You probably don’t know why she wasn’t chosen. It could be because someone else was better, or the director wanted a certain “look,” or he knows the family of the girl who was picked. All of those are situations that we as adults encounter every day in the work world and social world. So skip trying to parse out the why and focus instead on the what.

The what is that she wasn’t chosen, and she needs to learn how to “lose” gracefully. Throughout her life, she’ll have plenty of opportunity to practice being gracious as a winner and as one who comes in second, third, or last place. The sooner you can help her develop a good response to life’s disappointments, the better off she’ll be.

Tell her something like: “I know you’re disappointed in not getting the part you wanted. It’s okay to be sad about that. Lots of actors start out in the chorus, and it’s a good place to learn about being in the theater. It’s up to you to decide how you’re going to handle this: you can mope about it and skip the chorus, or you can put it behind you and focus on being the best chorus girl you can be and have fun. The choice is yours.”

Then don’t bring it up again. Let her figure out how she wants to handle the situation. Endless talking about it will only make her feel worse. If she brings it up again and wants to talk about how sad she is, tell her that the topic is closed. That’s not being mean, that’s helping her to move on and focus on living, not what happened in the past. A good lesson for us all.

Why Have Kids?

Sometimes, I’ll read something about why having a child is not such a good idea. Topping the list are things like how having kids cramps your style, drains your financial resources, contributes negatively to the environment, and consumes your marriage. Then there are those who think you should have kids but only one or two for the same reasons.

As a mother of four, I’m often greeted with explanations of “How on earth do you do it with four kids?” as if I deserve a medal just for breathing, much less living in a house with four youngsters and a husband. Why did we have children? Let me count a few reasons.

1. Because my husband and I love each other. Sounds strange, but our love for each other finds part of its expression in our children. Our love for our children strengthens our love for each other.
2. Because we have a care for our future. Not just our future, but the future of America depends on population growth. Yes, some naysayers think the world is overcrowded, but children are our future.
3. Because we love God. In Genesis, God said we should go forth and multiply. In having children, we’re fulfilling that command.
4. Because we love kids. Children are plain fun most of the time (and frustrating at times!), but it’s been a joy to raise them. The things they say, the way they act, the love for us and each other all make it worthwhile to be their parents.

Why we had four instead of two or three or six? That number sounded right to our family, and we were blessed that we could have four children. Each family’s number is different and that’s okay, too. We’d be pretty boring if every family looked like every other family.

That’s just a few of the reasons we had children. What are yours?

Until next time,

Sarah