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Showing posts with label communication. Show all posts
Showing posts with label communication. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

A conversation about ableism

The girls learned a new word the other week: lame.

And, as you would assume, everything on the car ride home that day was lame.

The car seats were lame, the puppy was lame, pink was lame.

I know it's just a common word. I know a lot of people say it to mean they don't like whatever they are talking about. I know it's splitting hairs.

But I had to say something.

So, instead of grinning and bearing it, and hoping they'd grow out of using it, I asked them if they knew what lame meant.

They didn't.

So, I told them that it referred to a disability, someone being unable to walk was the example I used. Then I told them that sometimes if they use that word, people who aren't able to walk or who suffer other disabilities feel bad because they're using it to mean stupid, or something they don't like.

Do they not like people who can't walk?

Can the color pink not walk?

If neither of those things are true, I told them they shouldn't use the term.

If they wanted to say the color pink is stupid, that's what they should say, I told them. Better yet, why not just say "I don't like the color pink." That's what they really mean.

Words have meaning, as I always say, and it's important to teach children to say what they mean from an early age in my opinion.

I haven't heard the word lame since.







Friday, September 26, 2014

On being "that mom"

Look, I'm a Connecticut girl. New England, through and through. I'm liberal, I like Obama, I believe in sexual freedom, human rights for all, good welfare systems for those in need, legalizing marijuana, government health care and gun control.

Obviously, I'm not a good fit here.

I've learned (painfully and slowly) to keep my opinions to myself when dealing with "the moms." The moms are the group of southern women firmly entrenched in ideological ideals that run completely opposite to mine.

To give a brief image, when the girls were in preschool, and Obama won his second term, I went into the school all WE WON, GUYS! MAYBE HE'LL ACTUALLY DO SOME COOL SHIT THIS TIME.

The moms quietened. Looked at me. And literally took a full step back from me.

Lesson one.

Later that year, the moms were engaged in a discussion about winkle sticks and bathing suit areas. I, of course, piped up, as I'm wont to do. They were shocked that the girls see me naked on a regular basis, know what vagina looks like, and etc. We went a little too far in this discussion. I said, "I'd much rather my kids see sex and nudity than killing and war."

Another step back. And I had to leave right quick before we got into a gun control debate, because, let me tell you, they were ready to second-amendment my ass back to Connecticut.

Lesson two.

So, I grew quiet. Because I did not want to be labeled "that mom." You know the one. The weird one that the other moms don't let their kids visit for fear of them teaching their preciouses another point of view. I didn't want my kids to invite a friend over only to get the cold shoulder because of my beliefs.

So, fast forward.

Now, we're in first grade.

And I'm still quiet with the moms. But not with my kids. We've had several talks about how, yes, some girls marry boys, but some girls marry girls and some boys marry boys and that's okay.

Yesterday in the car, one of my kids shouted from the backseat: "Mom, Jacky says you're a liar."

Um, what?

"Yeah, I told her that girls can too marry girls and she said no they can't and that's wrong and that you're lying."

Welp.

I mean, what do you do with that?

Being the passive lamb I am, I told her I was not a liar, that girls can marry girls, and she could tell her six-year-old girl to look it up and read a fucking book.

Okay, I'm paraphrasing.

But, seriously, this is a delicate issue. I'm not going to tell my kids things I don't believe, and things that are outright lies, just to fit in here. Just so they'll fit in. And I know my kid is going to go right back to her friend and tell her that her mommy says it's the law that girls can marry girls and she's not a liar.

And that girl will probably not be allowed to come to my house.

It's sad.

But maybe she will? I'd let my children go to her house because I'm confident in the beliefs I instill in them. Although if they were going to a shooting range, I'd probably say no. So maybe I'm no better than them.

The trouble will be worth it. It has to be. It is what's right. What I believe is right, anyway.






 

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Boys and their bits -- Guest Post

Donnelle over at The Never-ending Laundry has a funny and too-true post about kids...and their parents...and the things we all find ourselves saying.

 ...


Although my daughter is the twin who will matter-of-factly explain (to me, or the neighbour, or the supermarket checkout operator) that "Finn penis. Daddy penis. Me vulva.", nothing compares to the fascination small boys have for their boy bits.

I've previously shared the most memorable diddle incident from my eldest, but I'll quote it again here:

Disturbing parenting moment #4354:

Sitting next to your only-undies-wearing son, and looking over to realise he has stretched his penis out to over twice its normal length.

Disturbing parenting moment #4355:

He notices you looking and announces, "My penis is a string for a golden harp."

Disturbing parenting moment #4356:

He twangs it.

Aside from the instinctive "nappy off, party time!" grabbiness, the first understanding I had of the level of connection between a boy and his banana was when my eldest, at around age three, walked in on me in the shower. Eyes wide with concern, he exclaimed, "Mummy, your penis is broken."

While we'd talked about anatomical differences with him, it wasn't an everyday discussion like it is with boy/girl twins. That started early, mostly with strangers. "Twins?" Yes. "Boys or girls?" One of each. "Are they identical?" ....No, one has a todger.

"Your brother's penis is not a pull cord." I overheard that gem from the bathroom where hubby was tackling bathtime. A few months later it happened again. "No, only Finn can touch his penis. You're not allowed to touch any penises for at least 30 more years."

With it being "summer", we've been giving Finn lots of nakey-butt time in order to help with toilet-training (Vieve is not interested yet). That has led to some things I never thought I would say, things like:

"No penises on the table."

and

"Don't eat rice off your brother's penis."

Finn went through a period of anatomical confusion in which he muddled his bottom and his bratwurst. This led to a hilarious scene where, trying to explain to his Nana that her Manx cat had no tail but did have a bum, he kept lifting his shirt to show Nana his "bum" while Vieve chased him around in circles exclaiming "No! Bum here!" I even have video footage... but I might save that for their 21st.

(Apologies, by the way, if the willy euphemisms bother you. Like many of you, we use the correct terms around here, but the post got a bit "penis penis penis penis". I briefly considered using "Penis penis penis penis" as the title of the blog post, but then I thought about how "Penis penis penis penis" would look in the sidebar. Penis? Penis.)

I'm pretty sure the frankfurter fascination is universal for small boys. Do you have any funny stories to share?




 

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

My autistic child is not your inspiration - Guest post

Originally titled: "She's no angel (but feel free to say something nice about her)"

...

My two-year-old scrunched up her face and frowned in concentration. She balled up her chubby fist, extending her pointer finger, and selected icons on her iPad screen.

"I. Want. Banana. Please. I want banana, please," said the childlike computer voice. My daughter looked at me, expectantly.

I frowned. "You can't have a banana right now," I told her. "You still have chicken and broccoli on your plate." Months of giving her any food she requested because we were so excited to encourage her language skills were starting to backfire on us.

"I want banana, please," she insisted, selecting the sentence over and over. "I want-- I want-- I want banana, please."

"No banana," I said firmly. "Chicken and broccoli."

She shoved her plate away, arched her back and let out a series of piercing shrieks, kicking her legs angrily.

My daughter-- "Ham"-- is nonverbal and developmentally delayed (with a diagnosis of autism that I'm considering potentially 'in flux' for a variety of reasons I won't try to get into right now). She'll be three in a few months and has about as many speech sounds as the typical ten-month-old. This hasn't changed  substantially in the seventeen months she and her sister have been in Early Intervention, or in the nine months since they started applied behavior analysis (ABA) therapy. In the meantime, though, we saw that she was clearly intelligent and easily frustrated when she couldn't communicate, so we got her an iPad and a communication app called "Speak for Yourself" and the rest is history. It's no easy road, but she can use her iPad and communication app to make simple requests, comments, or even tell jokes (like saying "booboo sad crying" or "oops! oh no! what happened?" and then laughing).

Things I would like to say about my girls: they love swimming, popsicles, Elmo, soccer balls, tutus, toy cars, books, the ocean, never napping ever, visiting their grandparents, going for a walk, and watching our dog go nuts running around on the hardwood floor and slamming into furniture.

But I will never post any of those sparkly GIFs you see plastered all over people's Facebook pages or say the things written on them, like, "my daughter is my Autistic Angel!", nor will you ever hear those words escape my lips.

Here's the thing: my kids are not "angels."

Geez, no one ever wrote this glowing an acrostic poem of ME.
Geez, no one ever wrote this glowing an acrostic poem of ME.
I don't mean to say that they're badly behaved-- no more so than any other soon-to-be-preschooler. It's just that I don't see their deficits as being so devastating that I need to balance them out with a friendly but equally dehumanizing characterization of their personhood.

Calling someone an "angel" as a term of endearment is one thing. We all call babies any number of sticky-sweet, often food-related nicknames-- "pumpkin," "cupcake," etc. That's adorable and I'm the first to admit that my kids have a lot of nicknames,  including the "Chicken" and "Ham" I use to talk about them online.
"Autistic angel" and its ilk are different. It's a personality trope-- a designation that limits a person with special needs to something more palatable than their diagnoses.  I think it makes logical sense that people would want to balance the more negative messages about disability in our society with positive ones. But when the pendulum swings too far in the opposite direction, it's just as far from its origin as it was before. I'm not the first person to make this observation.

By talking about the value of a disabled "angel" as mitigated by what she has to "teach" you about yourself, you reduce her to a functional tool in your own development-- something less than a full and separate person on her own. See what I mean about how damaging even positive attributes can be?
Why not, "Never Ignore Somebody With a Disability Because That's Super Rude and Uncool"?
Why not, "Never Ignore Somebody With a Disability Because That's Super Rude and Uncool"?

My children are still young, and I don't know what the future holds for them. But I do know that 83% of women with developmental or intellectual disabilities are sexually assaulted (and only 3% of assaults are reported). I know that people who are nonverbal or have limited communication are often unable to tell anyone that they have been abused or feel unsafe. The problem isn't the disabled person, but everyone else, when accessibility, safety, and access to resources are limited or nonexistent. This is the other thing that happens when we don't treat disabled individuals as people, the thing we don't like to talk about-- the other side of the pendulum.

Before saying something or sharing an "inspiring" image, ask yourself: does this statement or image turn a disabled person into a tool for boosting someone else's self-esteem or remind them that their own life could be worse? Does it distill someone's personhood and identity down to something that makes everyone else feel better about their disability? Does it "fix" the disability by neutralizing it and balancing it out with something palatable?

Instead of sharing these messages, you could listen to disabled people tell us about themselves. More and more, disabled teens and adults are speaking up and letting us know what they think and how they feel, including addressing the tendency of non-disabled people to be "inspired" by disabled people living their ordinary lives. Rob J. Quinn's book I'm Not Here to Inspire You: Essays on Disability From a Regular Guy Living With Cerebral Palsy, excerpted in his article here, and Stella Young's funny and powerful TED Talk "I'm Not Your Inspiration, Thank You" are two examples.

Please choose to share these messages and not your own manufactured ones. Let's amplify the disabled self-advocates's own thoughts and take a backseat on creating our own. Share the messages that will help them feel good about themselves, not the ones that help us feel better about them.

------------

Jules wrangles toddlers, herds therapists, and eats cereal hastily over the sink. Follow her occasionally-updated blog at The Adventures of Chicken and Ham.










 

Saturday, May 10, 2014

Kindergarten Kids - The Made-Up Parties

Problem: 

Earlier in the week, my girls were talking with one of their friends. They started imagining what a sleepover would be like. They'd climb trees, bake things, play games, jump on beds, and go to sleep. They are in love with this image. They have really built it up in their minds. And over the days, the narrative changed from them describing what a sleepover would be like for them, to them telling me they were invited to a sleepover, and could they go?

This sleepover is apparently today. They insist their friend invited them. I've told them no less than a dozen times and possibly closer to 100 times now, that kids can't invite other kids over for sleepovers when they're five. The parents have to invite them. Having not heard from the parents (they have my number), I can only assume they know nothing about this.

So, my kids are super upset that I'm not letting them go to a sleepover that they made up. They've asked me to call the parents and tell them my girls are coming to sleep over. Because that would go over really well.

"Hi, my rambunctious twins want to sleep at your house. Cool? See you at 5."

I've explained to them that I can't invite them to someone else's house. I told them that in a few weeks, we could invite M to our house to play. You know, following the proper rules of society.

No good. We always have people over our house, and they never go to anyone else's house.

Anyway, lest I thought the battle was over, this morning, my daughter woke up at 7 a.m., came into our room and demanded I drive her to M's. We hugged her and explained again how society works.

No good.

She got upset, and decided to take matters into her own hands:


Not only are they going to a madeup sleepover, they're apparently driving there with no keys and no ability to actually open the garage door. They kill me. Hahahaha.


Solution:

Repetition, repetition, repetition. Eventually they do get it. This is a message she didn't want to receive, but there is nothing to be done. No reason for anyone to get angry, even though the premise is utterly ridiculous. It's not to her.

And the girls bring up a valid point. No one does invite them over. I assume because there are two of them. And to be honest, if there were a sleepover, I wouldn't let them go anyway. 1) because they're five. 2) because I can't trust that they'll behave at someone else's house. Particularly if they are together. Too easy to fight over the affections of the inviting friend. They have to grow up before I make other parents take care of them.

Anyway, the biggest point I want to make here is, be honest, be straightforward, and be calm. Do not allow them to feel like they were able to manipulate the situation to their whims with elaborate schemes and shenanigans with other kids. I absolutely am not calling M's mom. If the girls collectively want to do a sleepover, they can do it the right way, through the right channels. I am not going to reward sneakiness on any level.

Yes, it's very innocent right now, but I know all about this. I did this a lot as a kid. You think your parents won't let you do what you want, so you try to spruce up the story to make it more appealing to them, or like it's already in motion and would take more effort to stop than to just go along.

Nope. Go through me, go through other parents, then make your plans. Us first, then you.



 

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Most Important Things My Kids Say

If you've been around for more than five minutes,you probably know I'm pretty straightforward. My best friend of 26 years would tell you that, a new friend I just made last week would tell you that. And they'd both be putting it nicely. I have no time for couching words, or passive aggressiveness, or any confusion whatsoever. Is it a positive? Is it a negative? I don't know. Depends on the situation, I guess. I'll let you know statistically in about 50 years.

However, being straightforward, and as incredibly word dependent as I am (how can you not love words, seriously? They are EVERYTHING.) now that my children are old enough to articulate what they want and need from me, they do. Directly. This is amazing, and while I just dumb-lucked into it like I do everything in my life, I highly highly recommend doing it.

How? I don't know, really. I think it's because I am so direct about how I feel, what my anger means, when it's a bad time to talk to me, what makes me feel emotion of any kind, and I've constantly talked at them since birth using all the adult vocabulary I have.

I have very emotional kids. They require absolute presence and lots of patience, neither of which I have, unfortunately. But I'm learning. I'm trying for them. And I'm trying to teach them how to request those things in a way in which they'll receive their desired outcome. And I'm trying to teach them how to appropriately deal with disappointment when they don't get what they want, especially when they ought to get it.

I think it's going well.

I really love these kids.

So, the most important things they are saying to me currently:

"My tummy feels different." 1) I'm hungry, 2) I'm nervous or dissatisfied.

"I want a hug." I need a hug.

"I don't know what you mean." I am not able to picture the simple process you are describing and this is frustrating to me, indicating not only a breakdown in communication, but a chasm of self-doubt as I berate myself for not understanding you. I will need a hug in two minutes.

"You don't know what I mean." I am utterly frustrated with your complete inability to given me what I am asking for, not only in terms of what I am physically saying, but also in terms of my bodily cues. I have expectations about how this situation should be going currently, and I cannot articulate them without changing how I feel the situation should be going and further confusing myself. I need you to do your best to magically figure out exactly what I need, or somehow push me past the boundary of this mattering so very much.

"Can I do it again later?" I hate what I've just done, but I know you want to move on, and I now know you hate it when I tantrum about perfection and I will always lose this battle. Will you allow me to think I will be able to go back to this and fix it to my liking later, so that I can move on knowing that everything will be okay at the end? (They never go back to it).

"Do we have more?" I will forgo the pleasure of this treat if it is limited in quantity. I need to see the exact specs of my situation to feel comfortable here.

"I'm just going to run away and cry." I have absolutely no idea how to handle the emotion I am feeling in this moment, and I would prefer to lose control without your judgment. I feel alone and unwanted. (I never let them run away and cry, btw. These turn into long hug sessions.)

"Why aren't we talking about me?" I brought up something that you thought was general, but actually I need validation and support that my identity and strengths are valued here. You've misread what is going on. Please support me.

"I think you care more about Lilly/Dulce than me." You are giving my twin a lot more attention right now probably for a very valid reason that I don't care about at all. I need to be assured that I am also desired and loved and that I don't have to be sick/hurt/crying to be so.

"I love you." I love you.

And the best thing that they say?

Every single time I say, "Hey girls, guess what?" They reply, "You love me."

If that's the only message I ever get through to them, I will be happy.








Friday, September 13, 2013

Social Media - Guest Post

Today, Cassandra from Smibbo has graciously allowed me to share her interesting take on the social media we all love to hate or hate to love or any variations thereof.


...


Look at this Cartoon .

Social Media. Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest, G+, Reddit, Livejournal – those are only the ones I’m somewhat familiar with. Those are the generalized ones. There’s many more that are specialized too. Videosift, Youtube, dailymotion, Foursquare, Linkedin…

All virtual meeting-places. Forums, communities, groups, hangouts, guilds elists and PMs. We know what they are and how they’re used. Despite different tools, commands and symbols, they all do basically the same thing: bring people together online to share with each other.

The general consensus is that it is sucking up our socializing. We no longer rely on “real-time” or “face time”. We don’t interact on a daily basis in a “normal” way. Social media is making us all strangers. Social media is stealing our potential quality time. Social media is engulfing us in virtual reality and we are letting life slip by unnoticed. Our children are neglected, our work is sub-standard and our interactions are minimized. We are addicted to unreal relationships.

What did we do before social media?

The general consensus is that we actually made plans to see each other. We had conversations, went out and got to know each other. We looked at each other. We acknowledged one another. We had “real” relationships. Parents paid attention to their kids, SigOths went on dates, and we had hobbies that didn’t require looking at a screen.

Did we really?

All my life I’ve been fascinated with paucity. I read Lois Lenski and the “little house” series. I imagined what life was like without electricity, indoor plumbing or interstate commerce. Reading by candlelight, sitting on a latrine and relying on a garden for dinner…. not things I romanticized or wanted, but fascinated by nonetheless. All my life I’ve been grateful to live when I do; no slavery, women can vote, and modern “conveniences” like light, heat and ready food. There’s many thing I remember “the old fashioned way” – stick shift driving, gas heaters without thermostats, fans instead of air conditioners, ovens that had to be lit.

I remember everyone using cash to pay for things. A check was a huge hold-up at the store and a calculator that you could put in your purse was an amazing thing. Credit cards were for emergencies or rich people. In fact, rich people didn’t use credit cards much either; they had “line of credit” at stores and could simply walk in, pick things out, and have them delivered to their home and billed later.

Being billed later… the doctor, the grocer, the dress shop,… that’s what rich people did. Everyone else did “lay-away” Credit was a luxury.

When you were growing up, what did you think was “luxurious”?

I thought having a house with more than one floor was luxurious. One of my earliest dreams was to own a house with a master staircase. And have a credit card. And two phone lines. And being able to buy a new tire for my car. A NEW tire. That was “luxury” to me.

I remember when answering machines arrived. My parents refused one for a very very long time. My parents are not luddites, but they are logical: “if we buy an item, it will be because we NEED it” was their main philosophy on purchasing things. Because of course, we were very poor. So an answering machine? “Pah! If we’re not here, what’s the point of a machine telling people we’re not here? they can call back later!”

Then “call waiting” happened. It annoyed my mother. But I was a teenager and my penchant for phone conversations that lasted all night forced my parents to rationalize paying for call waiting. They saw the logic in the purchase the same day we got it. But they didn’t buy an answering machine until they became landlords.

I remember car seats for babies. Shoulder seat belts. VCRs.

But what I remember most? What changed everything for my family?

Programmable calculators.

My father bought one as soon as they were available. My father has a degree in physic engineering. Nuff said, right?

My father loved the programmable calculator so much he bought the next version as soon as it came out and gave me his old one. I was eleven. That was my first lesson in programming. Looking back, what I learned would be akin to what’s called a “script” or “macro” today- a short program that tells the computer to do a series of steps it already can do. Instead of having to input every step individually, the script or macro calls up the series of steps with one button. We thought this was amazing. I’d been to IBM on a field trip in school more than once so I knew what a computer was. And here was something very much like a computer, that fit into my backpack. Amazing.

So of course PCs came out. Of course my father got one. Like most early nerds, he bought a kit and built it himself. He learned rapidly. He taught some to me. I knew basic before high school. I fiddled with machine code. I learned to make pictures with ASCII. Fun times.

So what were we doing, socially, back then? Were we really a culture of people going outside all the time, walking around looking at each other, making eye contact and starting up conversations with strangers? Were parents paying rapt attention to their kids in the evenings? Did families go out and do all sorts of “organic” fun? Were we all really acknowledging each other all the time? Were we all full of so much social time that we engaged one another constantly? or even continually? did we use the phone to call each other all the time? did we write letters left and right? Were we a nation of hobbyists and athletes and artists producing and creating and generally making life pleasant without gadgetry?

Well yes, we were.

Did we do it so much more than we do now?

Well no, not really.

We didn’t stop doing any of those things. We haven’t retreated into a silent world of screen-gazing and info-sharing while neglecting the real flesh and blood of relationships any more than we used to sit every night around a campfire and sing kum-bah-ya with locked arms and loving glances.

What we did was trade. In some cases, we traded one type of communication that was cumbersome and time-consuming for much more efficient version of the same.

Do people sit down and write letters that they will later mail at the post office later? Some. Mostly, people write emails. It’s an exchange that actually broadened the scope of communication and made interaction more commonplace. Because “snail mail” letter-writing required a significant investment of time, money and mental energy, it wasn’t something everyone did. When a person did choose to write a letter, it was an endeavor which could take up much of their resources and as such meant the letter had to justify said effort. Of course, some people didn’t write their own letters to begin with. Many people would hire someone else more skilled to write on their behalf. Because of this, letter-writing was considered something of a talent; one could actually gain a reputation as a “good letter-writer”. Sending someone your thoughts, ideas and questions wasn’t something to be done lightly. So many people didn’t do it at all. Think of all those thoughts, ideas and questions that never got put out. All that information, clarification and interaction that never happened.

Email erased that and gave the power to exchange to everyone almost equally.

I hear the lamentation that grammar and spelling have gone out the window with the advent of social media and the internet. Some think its because the internet has made people stop caring, taking pride in their expression. I think the internet, for all its egalitarian beauty, merely opened the floodgates for those who are not talented or skilled in letter-writing to attempt to interact anyway. No longer is letter-writing an intimidating prospect that could eat up considerable time and energy. Now anyone can do it, so long as the “rules” for exchange have softened.

Do people sit and have conversations via phone or gathering like they used to? Of course they do. But social media has changed that landscape too. No longer does one have to be subject to the influence of whoever happens to be in their vicinity; with social media, one can choose to interact with whatever type and strata of person they like at any time. Barely speak English? Know nothing about current events? Only interested in discussing llama farming? Find your group online and start talking! now! Introduce yourself – ah remember that? “introduce yourself” used to be one of the most dreaded phrases in social gatherings. Standing in front of a crowd of strangers, you had to on-the-spot come up pertinent information about yourself that would entice people to want to know you, accept you and validate you.

Strangers you say? Bah! Why waste time with strangers when you could find an online “gathering” of people you share things in common with. Take as long as you need to write your introduction. Read other people’s posts so you can get a feel for how this group functions and whether you are “on their level” or not. If you realize you’re out of your depth, or sailing above everyone else, you can leave quietly and no one will even remember or care that you stopped by. It’s all in your hands. And if you want, at any time the “real world” is still out there, waiting for you to go join it. But now when you do, you can set your stage beforehand using social media. Much of the dreadful, terrifying unknown has been swept away from socializing now. No more standing around with total strangers wondering how to break the ice, present yourself and find out who everyone is. When you get to your meet-up you come armed with important knowledge that allows you to bypass hours of awkward fumbling and guessing.

So what is all this really building to? What are we getting from social media that isn’t being talked about?

Social media gives us one thing we have never had so much of before in our long history of socializing: the power of independent choice.

Social media is so seductive, attractive and wonderful because while it fulfils our need to be social, it also allows us to control everything about our socializing. Even the power to retreat, if we want to. Often with very little repercussions.

Think back… when you first started getting online, what did you do? When you first started dipping into social media (in my case it was IRC) did you make “mistakes”? How long did it take you to figure out “how this thing works”? Once you figured one social media out -the rules, the rituals, the expectations and of course the tools, how hard was it to move on to another type of social media and figure it out?

Social media doesn’t define our culture. It doesn’t supplant “normal” socializing. It hasn’t killed “facetime” nor has it erased the need for relationships. It has expanded our reach, broadened our capacity for inclusion and lowered the price of interaction for everyone equally. It has also allowed us to reimagine ourselves as social creatures. The person I am when I play an online game is not quite the same person I am when I discuss current events on a forum. the person I am on my public blog is not the same person I am on my friends-only blog, my facebook, my twitter, my emails… who I am is what I want to be, who I think I need to be for each unique online situation.

I have recently learned something new as well: I am not required to stay the same on any social media. I have grown all my life and social media is no different. My growth has included many lessons about myself, people I know and the world around me. But some of my favorite lessons have been about social media itself and how its changed my expectations and my interactions. I realized recently that I do not have to feel beholden to anyone for an explanation unless I am on a neutral-ownership place. If it is MY facebook, MY blog or MY twitter, I owe no one anything in explanation or expectation. But when I am on a forum, an email list, or any other group, I am no more important or less than any one else in that same group. I have never felt more equality than when in online discussions. Despite the fact that there are still bigots, assholes and patronizing jerks, the general tenor of online groups are egalitarian. We are all anonymous to some degree and yet we all have reputations as well. We gather personality traits over time like any other form of socializing. Yet because of the differences in online interactions and “real life” interaction, those traits are seen more as individual traits than indicators of whatever classifications of humanity I belong to. I may have a reputation for being quick-tempered and mouthy but I am not taken to be the token spokesperson for all white, disabled, female bisexuals. My traits are indicative of ME. Unlike many “real time” interactions wherein any type of noticeable reactive traits can easily be considered hallmarks of “your kind” The anonymity of the online world is good like that.

Lastly, I want to touch upon the intricate nature of social media’s place in parenting. Obviously, I am a big fan of parenting forums as my recent post about Special Needs Parenting forums clearly showed. But overall, social media has given parents a gift that has no ‘real life” component: individualized networking.

Before social media, parents had magazines and some books. If you wanted to meet other parents, the best you could do was to join the PTA or church group. If you did, you had to hope there were other parents who had similiar parenting philosophies but more importantly, you had to hope that your philosophies were NOT the type to get you branded as “one of THOSE parents” by the majority of wherever you were. Because if you went to your local school and mentioned an unpopular parenting idea… you were stuck for the next 12 years. You could be outcast, ostracized, gossip-fodder possibly even harassed through CPS if you said the “wrong” thing. So parents have gained solidarity in social media but they have also gained something more valuable: understanding and acceptance. Which goes both ways. Nowadays, even if you live in backwater USA and your entire PTA goes to church every day of the week, think Jesus rode dinosaurs and women must wear hats everywhere they go, even then, you still have heard of other parenting philosophies. You may not like them, you may think they are weird, but , you’ve heard of them and you know, whether grudgingly or happily, that you must have some level of tolerance.

And that first tiny foot-in-the-door of tolerance? Is better than humanity has had for the last thousand or so years.

Because of social media.

So yes, go out occasionally. Talk to people sometimes. Smile at strangers. Enjoy “real life” interaction. Its just as wonderful as its always been. But I suspect people haven’t stopped doing those things or craving them.

People just need to be reminded once in a while that social media enhances interaction, even as it doesn’t replace it. They live side-by-side, supporting each other. Use them both wisely.








 

Friday, January 25, 2013

What They're Saying at Almost 4.5

I do a words and phrases list every now and again to track cute things that will soon vanish from my auditory life forever. The girls are speaking more and more clearly now, though they insist on certain pronunciations more than others, and have trouble re-training their tongues to make certain sounds that they've heretofore gotten around.

For instance:

Skirt: slirt. Only it's not quite SLirt, there's more of a flemy sound in there as the skid past the k without hitting it.

Sp: F - So that sparkle becomes farkle and special becomes feshul.

But, they have trouble pronouncing Fr (though they will do it with my guidance) making frog slog, and freckle slenkel.

They'll occasionally get their Ps and Cs mixed up, though in different ways. Lilly continues to say Prismus instead of Christmas (whereas Dulce says Cwistmas), and preacher instead of creature (Dulce says cweature). However, Dulce will say nickel instead of nipple, and Natalina can say nipple correctly. Interesting.

Another interesting development is the word tomato.

Now, previously, any time their father or I have referred to a tomato, they'll echo it back to us as "bahdaydo." Which you would think would mean potato, but whatever, right? Potato is actually "bahcaydo" for some reason.

Yesterday, we learned that they can pronounce tomato just fine. Except that they say tomato when they want to say tornado.

Tomato, tornado, let's call the whole thing off, am I right?

This development has deeply puzzled me, and needs more thought on my end. What is going on there?

It may play into this: When we repeat the girls' mispronounciations back to them, they get very peeved.

For instance, Dulce will say, "Mommy! You bahstacked me! (distracted).

I'll then say with a smile, "Oh, I bastacked you?"

And with attitude she'll quip back, "No, mom. Bah-stack-ed." She can hear me say it right, knows when I say it wrong, but when she says it wrong, she hears it right. Maybe. I don't know.

A more grammatical error we're trying (not very hard, but when we think of it) to correct is the use of her.

The girls will say "Her told me that. Her did it. Her came to class today." They never use she.

On the flip side, they never use his. It's always "He toy. He ball. He daddy."

Weird, eh?

Th is a lost cause right now (though after several tries, if I'm coaching them and showing them how to use their tongues, they can say it.) Usually, it's sink (think), slee (three), schlrow (throw). They try everything to make that (dat) sound. They have trouble.

They have improved in massive ways (no longer using anchor vowels in the middle of words, for instance) and can string complicated thoughts together. But sometimes their tongues just don't know what to do.

Cute kids.




 

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Preschool Pointers - 11: Talk Less

Problem:

You talk a lot. Sometimes until you're right blue in the face. Because it's obvious your little ones can't hear you, are ignoring you, are simply droning you out. When did you become the teacher from Charlie Brown? You figure if you keep at them, keep talking, explaining, commanding, they'll hear at least one of the ten times you said something.

Solution:

Actually, they heard you the first time. The key is that you expect they hear you. If you act like it's okay that they didn't hear you (or more likely ignored you), they're going to keep doing it. And it won't matter how many times you repeat. You're thinking they didn't hear you. They're thinking, one time, twenty times, it's all the same. All you're doing is stretching their endurance. This is a painful cycle. If your kids are a late three or four already (and neurotypical), they understand basically everything. Don't underestimate them.

Say something. And when they don't do it, (or don't stop doing it), enact a consequence. It sounds rough, and like a lot of work, but they'll get the hint in a few days. I only knew they heard and understood everything I said when one of them easily remembered something I'd mentioned just once and gave up on a few days before. She repeated it back word for word. I was like...oh. I see.

We want to give them chances. We want them to do the right thing. But getting them to do the right thing doesn't equal telling them all about that right thing to do for fifteen minutes straight. They get it. They're just not going to do it. And the more simple you can make this equation for them, the easier it will be for them to make the right choice. They'll have consistent, concrete routines to cling to.

Basically, if you say something once, and they don't do it, and there is no reason why they wouldn't have heard you (because you're standing three feet from them and they're looking at you), then give them a consequence. As you dole it out, you can say because you didn't do xx when I asked, if you like. They'll start to come around, and your vocal chords will get a rest.








 

Friday, August 31, 2012

Cookies and Communication

This morning, my girls were discussing the cookie-making we're going to do this afternoon. Dulce wants to make chocolate chip cookies. Natalina wants to make sprinkled cookies.

We're making peanut butter cookies...because I'm the mom and I don't care what you want, particularly when you want different things, and you are looking forward to yelling about that.

During the course of their lengthy discussion on the merits and faults of all kinds of cookies that we are not making, Dulce had a wonderful idea.

"I know!" she said. "We can put chocolate chips and sprinkles on the peanut butter cookies!"

Indeed we can. Problem solved. Or is it?

I took Dulce to mean that we could put chocolate chips on the cookies she made, and put sprinkles on the cookies Lilly made. Mine, of course, would have sugar on them...mostly because I'm boring.

"Great idea, Dulce!" I replied. "We can do that."

Cue a shriek from Natalina.

There were two problems with this solution as far as she was concerned. The first was that Dulce had thought of it instead of her.

This is not just a childhood problem. How often are we held back in life because someone else came up with a glorious idea we wished we had had? How often, when we hear that person praised for their insight do we bristle, shutting ourselves off from cooperating in something we would have otherwise stood behind? Remember, when someone else does well, it does not mean that we are doing badly.

I have to remind my kids of this all the time. One of us will say to one of them, "Oh, you're so clever!" Or "Oh, you're so funny!"

And my other child, having no filter or subtlety, will say this: "You don't think I'm funny / clever!"

Which obviously isn't true. A good reflection on someone else is not a bad reflection on you.

Sometimes, they'll take it even further.

"You don't love me."

It seems overly dramatic, but it captures a true feeling that we all have, an easy step from the first notion. So that if we first think, "Someone did well, that means I did poorly." We then go to, "I'm not worthy of being praised because I've done poorly." Which can easily turn into, "I'm not worthy of love."

Again, huge over-simplification, but this is real, in subtler form. 

Of course, I always correct my child, saying that she is also funny and clever and of course I love her. The child who received the praise at that particular moment had done something specific that I was praising. What she did. Not what she is.

The second reason Natalina was upset about these cookies was that she didn't want to ruin her sprinkle peanut butter cookies by putting chocolate chips on them.

A misunderstanding.

A simple misunderstanding that elevated into madness because my four year old is too young to take a second to think about what has actually been said versus what she perceived.

This also happens in the adult world quite frequently. My husband laughs at me, saying I have the worst hearing in the world (I, on the other hand, would argue that he's a mumbler), and I'll often mishear things he's said, and repeat ridiculous notions back to him.

Example:

"It's a nice, clear night out tonight."

"Why would a deer need light out at night?"

He'll laugh and say, "Yes, that's exactly what I said. Take the thing that would make the least amount of sense, and go ahead and try to make it work."

Hah.

That's a benign and ridiculous example of something that's much more pervasive in real life. Mainly, that what you hear is most likely not what the other person said.

And if you hear something completely obnoxious, better to question it first, to be sure you are gleaning the right meaning from the speaker, instead of immediately going on the attack. They could be saying something you want to hear, and you've simply missed it through the haze of your own distractions.

Clarify before getting angry. Otherwise, we're all just toddlers throwing tantrums about chocolate chips, when we could have had our sprinkles without the tears.

Communication is so important. We think that because we learned to talk we automatically communicate effectively, but that's not necessarily the case.

I'll try to teach myself what I'm teaching my kids. Be patient, really listen, compromise, use words, speak, be heard, understand, have faith in yourself, take joy in others' accomplishments.

They are all tied together, no matter how much we'd like to tackle them separately.












 

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Words and Phrases

Now that we've hit four, the language is beginning to even out quite a bit. My girls are using complex phrasing and doing their darndest to keep up with the adults when it comes to chit chat. Here are a few funny sayings and pronunciations for your time.

A few widels: Combination a few minutes and a little while, with a 'd' thrown in to anchor the word.

Don't tell me that word: I don't want to hear that.

What kind go outside?: Where are we going today?

After tomorrow?: the future. Any point in the future that's after tomorrow.

Even after tomorrow?: A point in the future farther away than after tomorrow.

I aweady: I already did ______.

Can you think about it?: I'm going to bug the shit out of you until you either say yes or send me to my room.

We will see: I'm accepting your terms and will not bug the shit out of you until you either say yes or send me to my room.

You're not my friend anymore: You've angered me with your unfounded refusal of my completely legitimate request.

You don't love me anymore: The above times 10.

I'm tiword: (I'm tired). I don't want to eat.

Isseem: Ice Cream

Can it be a medium?: Can you hurry up and make a decision?

Down Basket: Can you get the basket off the shelf so I can pick a video?

Viiido: Video

Lywin: Lying

Strawbeddy: Strawberry

LookED out: Look at

Souwedy Canny: Mints (Sour Candy)

They still cannot pronounce rs and use the w instead. They also cannot pronounce sk. They use sl instead.

So, marry is mewwy, and skirt is schlirt.


Kids are awesome.





 

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Toddler Tricks - 103: It's Okay to Say Okay

Problem:

Your kids move slowly and are incredibly easily distracted. You could be taking them to the most fun place on Earth and just before you leave, they'd want to play one more game, or splash in a puddle or run around the car giggling for funsies.

You're not used to this lack of prioritization and it can be annoying. Previously, I marched forward, rushing them into the car, saying no to every stupid (because, seriously, they are stupid) request and time-waster. Let's just get going, I thought. Why, now, would you want to do x, y or z. You had all day. No. No, no, no, no.  Of course, if you say no too often, particularly when they try out their new bartering skills (think, just one more, or just a little), they stop listening to you. Then when you really need it, like, 'no, stop screaming in the grocery store,' you're screwed.

Solution:

Say yes sometimes. If it's not going to hurt anything, what's the harm? I've found that even if I've already said no, when they come back with a "compromise" (because, really, what kind of compromises do three year olds make? Not good ones.) I won't undermine myself by saying okay. And then I've seen them listen to the rules they set themselves. If they say, just one more time, they do it just one more time. This shows them that I'm listening to them, and not just putting them off (which encourages them to listen to me, too), it shows them how to communicate like adults so that they don't have to get to the screaming, crying, dragging, frustration phase, it shows that that when they do use words, they'll sometimes get what they want, and most importantly, it shows them that you are a reasonable person, so when you do say no, there is a reason. I've found my kids much more willing to listen to my nos, now that I also give them some yeses.







 

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Toddler Tricks - 90: Go Second

Problem: I don't know if this is a twin thing or not, but in this house, going second is the ultimate punishment. It is a slight to character, an insult to humanity. And the girls have quickly realized that if one of them gets to go first, the other one must be going second. The horror! With only one sink, this makes teeth-brushing a chore. With only one downstairs bathroom, going potty is torture. Taking turns with a toy has gone from precarious niceties to automatic tantrums because "She always goes first," and "Now, I'm going second."

 Solution: To circumvent this, I end up going second a lot. Mommies are meant to go second, I think. This is only going to work for so long. As of now, I can convince them that they are both going first and mommy is going second. They grudgingly accept that, but you can tell they know it isn't right.

A longer term solution, which hopefully will work better as they grow, is taking turns taking turns. So that if one twin goes first for something, the next twin goes first for the next thing. Then you can remind them. "Dulce, you went first getting dressed this morning, so Lilly will go first to get her chocolate milk. Lilly, you went first for your drink, so Dulce will go first washing her hands."

Just make sure you don't forget who went first the time before! That way leads to tears.

We have an even more complicated organization, where firsts are categorized. There are food firsts, bathroom firsts, games firsts, and clothing firsts. And the turns are specific to each category. I'm trying to whittle all this down because that's a lot of firsts to remember. But even when I mess up, I'm able to tell them, "don't worry, mommy will go second."

"Is mommy also thumbs down, and I'm thumbs up?"

Mommy takes a lot of guff, I'd say.

___
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Thursday, April 26, 2012

Imaginary Enemies

Some kids have imaginary friends. Mine have pretend enemies.

Maybe it's because they're twins and have a built-in playmate that they don't need to expand their social group to those characters solely in their minds. Or maybe it's because their loveys, Bear and Bean, are friends enough for them, the high-pitched squeals of the teddy bear and blanket often voicing the more babyish views of my growing children. When one of them is afraid of something, their lovey tells me that it's afraid. When they want to throw tantrums, it's Bear or Bean at the forefront, doing the most misbehaving. Any notion my children deem beneath them is awarded to their loveys.

Of course, the stuffed animal and battered blanket are also the girls' main audience for their shows. They're the object of many feedings, and naps. Many times, the loveys will find themselves cordoned off in the bedroom while the girls "go to the gym" or "go grocery shopping."

The imaginary enemies, though, are different. The witch and the monster have traditional roles in our household. They intimidate the twins, compelling them to call out a warning to me or their daddy should we wander too far outside at night. They're the evil ones that my girls are convinced will try to get them in their sleep.

These are all things I expected.

What took me by surprise is the new game that's popped up in the past few weeks or so.

Giving the characters voices, much like they do for Bear and Bean, the girls will channel these malevolent ghouls, usually when they want to be bad.

There have been many dinners as of late where my husband and I have had to "kick the witch and monster back to the moon" so the girls could eat their meals.

"Mommy, the witch doesn't want me to eat my dinner," they'll say. Then they'll break into a gravelly voice. "No! Dulce will not eat her dinner. I am the witch, and I say no."

"Go away, witch," is the standard reply. "You have no power here."

And then we can continue our meal.

Sometimes, the girls will ask me if I love the witch, or if I'll hug her,. I usually say, "Well, if the witch would be good, I would think about it."

When I tell them I love them out of the blue, they'll say "I love you, too." But over the past few weeks, they've then paused, thought about it and asked, "Do you love the witch, too?" I'll usually say no. I don't know if that's the right answer.

What if they are looking for validation that I'll love them when they're good and when they're bad? But, then again, what if they don't want me to love the thing that torments them and causes them fear?

I'll give them a hug. "But you won't hug the witch, are you?"

"No, I won't hug the witch."

With imaginary friends like these, who needs enemies?

___
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Thursday, March 22, 2012

Guest Post: Twin Talk - Is it Real, and Should it be Encouraged?

Today I am lucky enough to have a guest blogger. And she's actually done research and stuff. Thank you, Imogen!

...

When you find out you’re pregnant with twins, it really does double the shock waves that run through your system. Even if you’re trying for a baby and even if you have twins in the family, you don’t expect two little miracles to be growing inside you and the list of things you have to do and think about has really doubled! In addition to all your usual must-buys and plans, including whether to commit to investing online or via your local bank for their college funds, you now have to think about the idiosyncrasies that come with having twins. One of these is the wonder of ‘twin talk’ and whether it is actually something to worry about at all.

There are many popular myths about twins and multiples and the idea that they share an exclusive secret language that only they can understand is one of them. Specific scientific terms such as idioglossia, autonomous language and cryptophasia have been coined to describe the phenomenon that is twin talk. Scientists and researchers have been extremely interested in twin interaction for a long time and despite their interest in twin talk, it’s said to be very rare indeed for twins to develop a whole language and when it does occur it’s usually due to neglect or isolation.

What is Twin Talk?

Rather than being a distinct phenomenon between twin talk and your solo baby’s babble, many experts attribute the same sounds coming from both twins to mimicking each other and trying to learn language from each other. All babies babble, making up odd sounds and noises that no one can distinguish yet between twins you can sometimes see that they are attempting to understand each other and may mimic conversation and giggle at each other’s utterances. If nothing else, it’s extremely cute to watch! The older they grow, the more their language may seem similar and they will copy each other whereas sceptics would say they’re in fact just mispronouncing the same words. It’s believed about 40% of twins, usually monozygotic (identical) twins will have some form of autonomous language which will include their own special nicknames, abbreviations, gestures and ‘words’ that they’ll only use with each other. The difference between this and standard babbling is that the twins tend not to use this language with their other siblings or family members.

Some research suggests that twins and multiples can suffer from a delayed or slightly different approach to language compared to solo babies. Boys especially have been shown to sometimes be months behind their contemporaries when it comes to verbalising their feelings and requirements. There are many factors which effect the development of speech. Firstly, babies learn language from their main caregivers and the stress of having multiples is said to sometimes make it more difficult for parents of twins to be consistently verbally involved with their children. This is by no means a criticism and is a basic finding that researchers have found due to the additional stress of having two children of the same age.

Baby twins spend nearly all their time together and like most people who spend a lot of time in the company of another individual, they find a nonverbal or simpler form of communication. They understand each other implicitly and understand utterances as simple as a grunt or a squeal. This also means they can see less reason to engage with ‘real’ language as they’re getting on more than happily without it! Statistics have shown that twins tend to speak more quickly, abbreviate their words and sometimes leave out key consonants when pronouncing words, sometimes put down to the fact that they want to be first to speak over their twin. Some of the delays that twins are said to experience are also due to the cognitive differences that come from premature birth as twins are often born before full gestation.

Encouraging Speech in Twins

Of course, everyone wants their babies to grow into confident and coherent young people and with these few hints you can ensure that for your little ones:

*Keep on talking – the more you talk to your twins, the more they understand language in its proper form. *Giving each twin one-to-one time is essential.
*Socialize – interaction and socialisation with other children is a great way of introducing your twins to the wider world of language. Playgroups and clubs are fantastic for meeting other kids.
*Read aloud – reading to children has uncountable benefits and is a significant element of supporting your twins’ language.
*Encourage – many sets of twins set themselves in a pecking order and one takes the lead. This can be problematic when it comes to language as you want both your twins to be able to express themselves. Give them solo time to express themselves.



Wednesday, March 21, 2012

What They Say at Three and a Half

Our language here is ever-expanding, and I try to list out some of the funnier or more precious sayings and mispronounciations. Of course, I can never remember them all.

I can say that at 3.5, the girls still have a bit of trouble anchoring their words and will stick a "d" or a "t" sound in the middle to create two syllables in a two-syllable word. Most interestingly, they have a different language development, so that while one has trouble pronouncing words with "fs" in them, the other pronounces them well. That one, instead, has trouble with "rs" whereas the other never stumbles over the sound. So that while one says "fruit" like "sloot" the other says "fruit" like "fuwoot."

One of them mixes up sound syllables so that "medicine" becomes "mecidine," "animal" becomes "aminal," and, my personal favorite: "beautiful" becomes "beufidal." The other usually corrects her.

Both pronounce "th" as "d." But one cannot pronounce words that begin with "c" while the other has no trouble. So that "cry" becomes "pry" and "Christmas" sounds like "Primmus." The other's pronunciation of those words is different but still not correct. "Cwy" and "Cwistmus."

They've started using high-pitched voices for their toys and stuff animals when they pretend to be them. They've picked up (minimally, thank goodness,) the girly shriek known with fear around playgrounds.

They'll often drop the first syllable of a word, or mispronounce it. "I apposed to do that!" "We have a mergency!"

Here's a short list of habitual sayings and words around here.

"Don't tell me that word!" -- I didn't like what you just said. Stop talking to me. You're wrong.
"Cruntsuls" -- pretzels
"I already!" -- "I just did that."
"Like yesterday." -- Like we did in the recent past.
"Like a long time." -- Like we did in the distant past.
"When it gets light and dark out, what kind go outside?" -- What are we doing tomorrow?
"I a fast girl." -- "I need this done right now."
"I a new girl." -- I want the new toys.
"I a old girl." -- I get to do this first because I asked first (making my request older.)
"Can you make it louder?" -- This applies to volume, but also to speed (how fast the fan moves), and light (how bright the lights are.) Everything that increases is volume, apparently. (I did this too as a kid.)

Pretty soon they'll be talking like little adults and I won't be able to do these posts anymore. But I'm guessing we still have a few left.

___
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Saturday, March 17, 2012

Toddler Tricks - 84: Make them Acknowledge You

Problem:

You're talking and talking and talking, but your kid can't hear you. Or more accurately, your kid is blatantly ignoring you, your presence not registering on his preschooler radar. I've written about this here, because it's a big deal around here lately. But I've been fighting it, and I've found a few things that seem to be working, at least in the short term.

Solution:

One of the ways to fight this is to ask them to acknowledge you. I'll usually end my statements with "okay?" And I know they heard it, I know they did. So, sometimes I'll say, "say okay, mommy." And they do. And after a few days of this, they begin saying okay as a habit. Now, I'm not sure if this is purely a voiced repetition, or if they are actually listening and saying okay, but they do tend to do what I've asked if they say okay. Another benefit of this is that if they don't do it, I can come back and remind them of the incident. "You said okay, remember?" They nod thoughtfully and complete their task. Plus, I really, really like hearing them acknowledge that I've spoken and do, indeed, exist. It extends my patience by miles.


Thursday, March 8, 2012

Can. You. Hear. Me?

I know people (lovingly?) call three year olds threenagers, but I'm still astounded that this amount of attitude can come from something so small. Something so small that loves me so much and loudly.

I mean, we've got it all over here. We've got the exaggerated sigh. We've got the arms crossed, squared-shoulders harrumph. We've got the eye roll (although they're still perfecting that one. Sometimes they accidentally cross their eyes when trying to pull it off.)




















Truly, we are a disgruntled bunch.

But the worst of them all, the one that cannot be pictured, the one that even if I could snap a shot of it, the photo would never convey the amount of annoyance this behavior brings...the worst is the ignoring me.

It's made even more frustrating by the fact that I don't even realize it's happening until I've said the same thing a dozen times with no response. I actually fall for it. Regularly. I think they haven't heard me. So I repeat. Because I honestly think they haven't heard me. Fool.

They heard me. They heard me the first time, they heard me the twelfth time. And I'm over here looking like a jackass broken record, giving them the benefit of the doubt because I haven't even considered the alternative until it's too late to correct the behavior.

Go down the stairs.
Go down the stairs.
Hey, could you go down the stairs.
(I do something else for a moment, then notice that no stairs have been gone down.)
Girls, can you go downstairs, please.
(I start down the stairs, no one follows me. No one has even acknowledged my presence.  That's when I realize it. They're purposefully ignoring me.)
Go down the stairs.
Girls.
Girls.
GIRLS!
GO. DOWN. THE. STAIRS. NOW.

Crying.

Now they're insulted that I yelled at them. How dare I? Gee, I don't know.

Sometimes I catch it before this point. If I do, I repeat their names over and over and over. Sometimes I say, Can you hear me? Can you hear me?

Amazing that I, who perfected this ignoring in my childhood, could be thrown for loop by it.

I remember doing it when I was a bit older. I remember thinking, when my mom would constantly ask me if I could hear her, 'why are you so needy, woman? You need validation at every turn? Yes, I heard you. I have ears. I'll get to your ridiculous, time-wasting, unnecessary request in a second. Either that or I'll forget about it, then be insulted when you have to remind me.  You know how this works. I. HEARD. YOU.'

Little did I know that I had trained my mother to do this, much as my kids are now training me. She had been conditioned to ensure that, yes, I actually did hear her and I'm ignoring her, so that later, when she had to tell me again, I couldn't say, "but, mom, I didn't hear you!"

And this ignoring thing, it's good. It's subtle. There is literally no response. No indication that they might have heard me at all. It's not like they set their jaws, and I know they're being obstinate. They literally act as if no one has spoken.

Threenagers. I can see everyone's point now.

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