Child rearing and chicken salad. Bet you've never seen the two of them linked up in a sentence like that, have you? Shall I explain? Everyone has a favorite recipe for chicken salad. Some are family traditions, some are just tried and true recipes clipped from a magazine or newspaper. Some chicken salad is wonderful...flavorful, truly delicious...the kind of thing folks brag on...what a condemned man might choose as his last meal. Others, hmmm....not so much! You know what I'm talking about...we've all had chicken salad that would be better suited for wall paper paste. Bland, flat, tasteless. One sandwich of this is one too many! There are as many approaches to child rearing as there are recipes for chicken salad. Some of these ways are better than others...some are more likely to turn out children who are kind, thoughtful, respectful and decent. Those are the GOOD recipes. Have a bad approach to raising children and you can expect ungrateful, selfish, disrespectful brats....and like a bad chicken salad sandwich, one bratty kiddo is one too many.
Meet Preston. I met him last week while I was outshopping running errands. Preston is about two, no more than three. His mommy wanted him to come to her, just a few feet from where he was standing...glassy-eyed staring at the toy display. His response to his mother's direction was disobedience. He stayed RIGHT were he was. (Let's stop here a minute...call his reaction exactly what it was. DISOBEDIENCE. He wasn't being cute, all boy, a sport model, feisty, determined...no. He was being DISOBEDIENT.) His mommy's response was to try and REASON with her child. You have to understand that I am just cracking up inside and really having to control my inner voice (BTW, I call that inner voice "Julia" after Julia Sugarbaker...another subject for another day) to keep it from becoming my outer voice! She's REASONING with a preschooler...a child who cannot independently use the bathroom! She's cajoling him, trying to entice him into an obedient mindset. A couple of empty threats and her efforts to negotiate his compliance fails. She begins to walk toward him and he takes off...like a bullet from a gun! "Oh, Preston, " I think, "you should thank Jesus that your last name doesn't match mine!"
Preston's mommy had gone to a different part of the store when I hear his little feet on the other side of where I am...I peek around the corner and there he is. He's a cute little bugger, God bless his little willful soul! He has this rather annoyed look on his face...not at all scared or uncertain. Almost peeved, actually. I get down and ask if his name is Preston. He nods his annoyed little head and willingly takes my hand when I tell him that his mommy is looking for him and I will help him. We find mommy and this is where the sandwich really gets yukky. Preston's mommy did not react as I thought she would, as I would have, when I returned her little precious to her. Instead, this is what played out....
Make no mistake...in no way do I fancy myself a parenting expert. I know what worked for us...and what didn't. Parenting is hard, I know...I KNOW! Got the gray hairs and tear stained pillows to prove my acquaintance with that undeniable truth. While it is one of the hardest things I will probably ever do, it isn't rocket science! Here's what I know about Preston and remember, good readers, he and I are rank stranger. Preston makes the rules in his house. Preston is the boss. Preston's mommy doesn't have a framework of discipline that she uses with him. With the apparent lack of boundaries, there is most certainly a lack of consequence. And he knows it...that's why he stayed were he was...that's why he took off running. He knows exactly who calls the shots, who's in charge and it isn't his mommy! Keeping Preston corralled in the store is an easy fix. When the Ys were Preston's age and they went shopping with me, they were in the buggy. Either in the seat or down in the buggy. If we were running in for a quick minute, they could walk beside me but had to hold my hand. If they didn't comply, we got a buggy and in it they went. No negotiations...no cajoling. They weren't always happy about it, but their happiness was not as important to me as their safety and their obedience.
What's not such an easy fix are all these bad recipes for raising kids, like the one that Preston's mother is using. Somewhere along the way, someone decided that the traditional way of raising children was no longer appropriate for modern times. Out the window it went and in flew insanity! That's what it is...insanity. Plain and simple! As a society, we lost our collective mind when it was decided that boundaries, discipline and consequences are no longer needed. Consistently enforced boundaries provide children with the stability and safety that they need...they need it. They have a biological/emotional need for safety. You can look it up...there are numerous studies out there about this. Kids who grow up in environments that are fraught with instability, violence and danger are at risk for all sorts of things...drug use, addictions, prostitution, physical abuse, depression, eating disorders, jail time and even suicide. Aren't parents supposed to want to protect their kids from these kind of things? If a few simple, consistently enforced rules will lessen the chances of your kids going down these paths of destruction, isn't it worth it? If you don't shout YES at the computer screen, this isn't the blog for you:) I kid...sort of.
Some would say that Preston's is too young to understand such things. In the worlds of my late Papa Wood, "Bullroar!" Learning to understand and successfully navigate the ins and outs of life requires that the teaching starts early. You can't start when he's two...when he's five...when he's ten...when he's sixteen. By the time a child is seven or eight, his personality...his moral frame work is locked into place. Everything that comes after this age is fine tuning, honing. You can't fine tune something that was never developed. Any gardener will tell you that pruning a rose bush that has been allowed to go untended for six or seven years is a difficult, not to mention painful job. That's why you prune often...to ensure that the plant has the best chance of successful growth. It's no different with kids...no different.
Some of you probably won't be able to look at a chicken salad sandwich the same after reading this. I'm sorry about that. BTW, I have some really great recipes for chicken salad I'd be happy to share.
Meet Preston. I met him last week while I was out
Preston's mommy had gone to a different part of the store when I hear his little feet on the other side of where I am...I peek around the corner and there he is. He's a cute little bugger, God bless his little willful soul! He has this rather annoyed look on his face...not at all scared or uncertain. Almost peeved, actually. I get down and ask if his name is Preston. He nods his annoyed little head and willingly takes my hand when I tell him that his mommy is looking for him and I will help him. We find mommy and this is where the sandwich really gets yukky. Preston's mommy did not react as I thought she would, as I would have, when I returned her little precious to her. Instead, this is what played out....
"What were you thinking?? She [pointing at me] could have snatched you!"Preston's face remains locked into that annoyed expression, which at this point, I find rather comical. What I don't find comical is his mother. To her, I say,
"Trust me, I have two different versions of him at my house. You're welcome to keep him."
"You're mommy is right, honey. There are lots of mean people in the world. Some of them are in this store...I am NOT one of them. Trust me, you are safer with your mommy. Be sweet, Preston."I say that to His Precociousness and walk away. I am a good fifteen steps from them when his mother utters a rather half-hearted "thank you." Not five minutes later, she's back to reasoning with him. Oy and ay-yi-yi!
Make no mistake...in no way do I fancy myself a parenting expert. I know what worked for us...and what didn't. Parenting is hard, I know...I KNOW! Got the gray hairs and tear stained pillows to prove my acquaintance with that undeniable truth. While it is one of the hardest things I will probably ever do, it isn't rocket science! Here's what I know about Preston and remember, good readers, he and I are rank stranger. Preston makes the rules in his house. Preston is the boss. Preston's mommy doesn't have a framework of discipline that she uses with him. With the apparent lack of boundaries, there is most certainly a lack of consequence. And he knows it...that's why he stayed were he was...that's why he took off running. He knows exactly who calls the shots, who's in charge and it isn't his mommy! Keeping Preston corralled in the store is an easy fix. When the Ys were Preston's age and they went shopping with me, they were in the buggy. Either in the seat or down in the buggy. If we were running in for a quick minute, they could walk beside me but had to hold my hand. If they didn't comply, we got a buggy and in it they went. No negotiations...no cajoling. They weren't always happy about it, but their happiness was not as important to me as their safety and their obedience.
What's not such an easy fix are all these bad recipes for raising kids, like the one that Preston's mother is using. Somewhere along the way, someone decided that the traditional way of raising children was no longer appropriate for modern times. Out the window it went and in flew insanity! That's what it is...insanity. Plain and simple! As a society, we lost our collective mind when it was decided that boundaries, discipline and consequences are no longer needed. Consistently enforced boundaries provide children with the stability and safety that they need...they need it. They have a biological/emotional need for safety. You can look it up...there are numerous studies out there about this. Kids who grow up in environments that are fraught with instability, violence and danger are at risk for all sorts of things...drug use, addictions, prostitution, physical abuse, depression, eating disorders, jail time and even suicide. Aren't parents supposed to want to protect their kids from these kind of things? If a few simple, consistently enforced rules will lessen the chances of your kids going down these paths of destruction, isn't it worth it? If you don't shout YES at the computer screen, this isn't the blog for you:) I kid...sort of.
Some would say that Preston's is too young to understand such things. In the worlds of my late Papa Wood, "Bullroar!" Learning to understand and successfully navigate the ins and outs of life requires that the teaching starts early. You can't start when he's two...when he's five...when he's ten...when he's sixteen. By the time a child is seven or eight, his personality...his moral frame work is locked into place. Everything that comes after this age is fine tuning, honing. You can't fine tune something that was never developed. Any gardener will tell you that pruning a rose bush that has been allowed to go untended for six or seven years is a difficult, not to mention painful job. That's why you prune often...to ensure that the plant has the best chance of successful growth. It's no different with kids...no different.
Some of you probably won't be able to look at a chicken salad sandwich the same after reading this. I'm sorry about that. BTW, I have some really great recipes for chicken salad I'd be happy to share.
Ugh. Where is Dr. Dobson when you need him??
ReplyDeletePreach it, sister! You're saying things that I've been thinking for years! And yes, I'd love a good chicken salad recipe. :) With grapes?
ReplyDelete