Kindergarten Kids - Putting Emphasis in the Right Place

Problem:

You're doing it wrong. (And by you, I mean me.) As parents, but also people, we tend (and by we, I also mean me) to stack our plates to full. We want to be a great parent, have a clean house, work or go to school or complete individual projects, and all in a timely manner. In this age, we are more and more splintered, devoting mere frames of our attention to any one thing at any one time. And the cool thing is, we're smart enough to be able to do that. We can keep 20 plates spinning at once, without having any of them drop. We can make the deadlines, clean the house, do the work, parent the kids, and socialize with our friends all at once. The only problem is, one of the plates doesn't just want to be spun. It wants you to look at it. Always. It requires your undivided attention. But you don't even know how to give your undivided attention to one thing anymore. So you try to make up for it in other ways. Like engaging in lots of conversation, even while you're doing other things. By listening and allowing debates to occur so that your kids think they are important to you (which they are) and have some semblance of control over their lives. You want them to thrive and make their own decisions, rationally and reasonably.

You remember being a kid. "Because I said so" was a shitty response. You hated it. It was the conversation-ender when your parents were no longer listening to you, when they no longer had time for you. You want your kids to know you always have time for them. That even as your fingers type a sentence for a school assignment, you are listening to them and caring about them.

Wrong.


Solution:

Even though (to me) that kind of engagement shows a caring, loving front, that's not what the kids see. Instead of paying attention to them all day, every day, as you do other things too, you might have to try paying your full and entire attention to them for shorter spurts, then clearly explaining to them (they're five now, you should be able to do this) that you need to work for xx amount of time. Then pay them your complete and full attention again. So instead of a continuous stimulation of halfsies, you'll have to start doing each thing in full, then switching gears.

It's something I'm going to try anyway.

The goal is the same, the emphasis is different.









 

Dear Hands-Free Mama, How?

My kids turn five tomorrow.

Five.

I don't have anything close to babies anymore. I have real life big kids, and it scares me.

It scares me because all this parenting stuff is going to start counting, now, isn't it?

When they're little, all your quirks, your mistakes, your flaws, they're hidden inside the home. There's nothing, really, to compare them to, and you figure, hell, I've got a few years to perfect this, right? I'll be okay.

But what if I'm not?

Moment of truth, now, isn't it?

I can't hide behind being a new parent. I can't hide behind "that's a mistake I'll never make again," because I've tried that, and trust me, I'll make that mistake again.

My family is not one for awesome, life-changing epiphanies.

Just like my kids, who are not the type to "not get the cookie, and then they never cried again!" I'm not the type who can read something like this, which has been going around my Facebook for the past few days, and change. (And I love Hands Free Mama. Her post on yelling was fabulous, and spoke to me more than that post I referenced just about about slowing down. But while it spoke to me, it didn't change me.)

I'm too far gone.

I want to change. I do. I want to be a better parent. I want to be a parent who can happily color with her kids for three hours before teaching them to read and write, fetch them snacks immediately because I'm aware they're going to be hungry before they even are, and do it all with a smile and validation for their existence. I want to give them the unending attention they seek on a constant basis. But I don't.

To illustrate, while I was writing that paragraph, one of my kids asked me to explain a coloring game to her, and I did. The other then asked me when we were going to go grocery shopping (she got a distracted-sounding "soon." Then she asked me to make her a snack, to which I replied, "in a minute." Then she came up to me and hovered around my shoulder for a moment before leaning into me in a makeshift hug. I paused to hug her back, and she went back to coloring on the couch. So, while I am writing about not wanting to give my kids the brush-off, I'm giving them the brush-off. However, I am actually going to go make her a snack right now, so hold on one moment.)

Okay, I'm back. And just so you know, full disclosure, my other daughter has now brought her coloring book over to my lap and is coloring under my elbows as I type this, talking to me about the delicate matters of coloring versus scribbling. Obviously, my children need more of my attention.

On the other hand, compared to previous generations, I give my kids a literal ton of attention. We do reading and writing every day. I take them outside twice a day when I can. I don't play as many games with them as I could, but, seriously, I hate little kid games (board games), and if I try to help them do blocks or puzzles, they get mad at me. They'd prefer I just sit there and stare at them working on their pieces of art and architecture. And I'm guessing most parents can do that. But I can't.

Like, Hands Free Mama said, every minute I'm doing that is another minute I'm not crossing something off my list. And I just have this stupid feeling that I need to get stuff done. What I need to get done, I don't know. All of it, I guess. I don't know.

But I do know that I'm too far gone for a little, "Come on, bro, buck up and do this thing right" revelation to help me. I need more help than, "And then my child asked me if she had to rush and I broke down in tears and resolved never to ask her to hurry up again. And then I never did."

How?

I'm so serious. How did you do that? Because I can resolve all I want (and that's only if it gets past the point where I say, "yes, you have to rush, dammit.") and still not do it.

I forget, or worse, I don't want to. I give myself an excuse for that instance, and then the next. Or whatever. Point being, I can't just read some inspirational story and change my life.

But I want to. I want to be a more patient, more caring parent. I want to shower my kids with all of my attention all the time and have that be enough to keep me contented and calm, like the perfect mothers we all want to be, strive to be. Where the kids are the most important thing (and not in the way that they already are, because obviously the kids are the most important thing), but like where you just dote on your kids in that healthy, glowing way where the family love and bonds and growth are shared and strengthened every day.

But I can't. I guarantee you I will both tell my kids to hurry up today, and I will yell at them at least once, too. And no one wants to hear that story. Hands Free Mama can tell it because she's reformed. She's a used to be, and she's been able to toss all that rubbish to the curb. But what about me (and any out there like me, if there even are any), who is right in the thick of it?

To see someone who says she was once like me and now she made it all better should give me hope. But it just makes me sad. It makes me want to cry with the weight of my failings because I see it and I know that people can change. Just not, apparently, me.

Where's the step between "I saw my kid well up in tears and resolved to never do that again" and then actually not doing it again?

I need more than, "I failed and then I decided to stop failing and then I stopped failing."

Where is the how?




 

Toddler Tricks - 26

Ways to Trick your Baby:

Problem:  Your child loves you.  She loves you so much.  She needs to show you her love at all times in all ways.  But sometimes, you're busy.  You can't pick her up in the middle of your task, but she will have it no other way.  If you give in, you'll end up carrying her in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the bedroom, everywhere.  If you do not give in, you'll end up with a tantruming child you'll eventually have to pick up anyway.

Solution: Designate a specific place for hugs.  Our hug spot is the green couch.  When your little one comes around looking for love, tell her you must go to your hug spot for affection.  Then, at least for the first few days, interrupt what you're doing to go there and hug her immediately.  Soon she'll get the idea that the hug spot is where the best affection occurs and the balance of desire will switch from the affection itself to the place of affection.

Problem: You can't always leave what you are doing unattended, and babies can be too impatient to wait.  In my house, the request goes from "Green couch?" to "Green cooooouuuuucccchhh" in a matter of seconds.  But if the stove is on, or you need to go to the bathroom, your kids will have to wait.

Solution: Address their request immediately in some manner so they don't feel you are just ignoring them.  Tell them you'll be at the hug spot at a time in the near future, but that you have to finish whatever task you are currently doing first.  This will result in a tantrum or two at first, but if you stick to your word and go to the hug spot after you're done stacking the dishwasher or whatever you've been doing, the babies will come to trust you.  In this manner, you will be able to postpone affection-giving to a time and place that is convenient and, more importantly, not dangerous.  Your children will have inadvertantly learned patience.  When this works, it really helps save a parent's sanity.  Clinginess has gone way down in this house since I first started the hug spot.


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