Adoption and Bonding

Just a cool little personal essay from a woman who gave birth to two sons, and recently adopted an older girl from China: click here.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

What a fun, fun Christmas! Little P is big enough to get the festivities this year, and he has brought additional joy to our usual family traditions. He was blessed with all kinds of thoughtful gifts that will give him much to do throughout the next year - riding a real bike, "working" at his tool bench in the garage with Papa, making art and learning preschool skills with the easel/chalkboard/whiteboard, sitting at his new kid-sized table and chairs, and playing with an assortment of interesting books, trains, cars, and dinosaurs. Oh, yeah. He's also taking up golf, Little Tykes style.

Mama will write more in a week or so. The P-Pod is packing (as we speak!) for a few days of camping in the desert. We're stealing away with Auntie Bek and Uncle Mike and a few pals to spend some nights in a tent out under the bright stars, sipping hot chocolate by the campfire, and taking nature walks with Little P's "bug barn" (a little mesh contraption in which one may place butterflies or stink bugs or caterpillars in order to observe them until they likely die of starvation or loneliness or fear).

On a nother note, while at Grandma's house for Christmas, Papa and Little P witnessed a giant coyote trotting down the road (they come up from the canyon to feast on the rabbits in Grandma's yard). When Little P saw said creature, he shouted excitedly, "Kangaroo! That's kangaroo!" Ah, well. The exotic creatures are a bit harder to identify on account of their lesser visibility.

Transitioning to a Big Boy Bed

In response to a question from VCW and at the risk of offending all the people who disapprove of spanking as an approach to discipline, I hereby tentatively share my concrete approach (and all its mishaps) to helping Little P learn how to transition to a "big boy" bed.

We had little trouble getting Benjamin to stay in his new bed at night. I don't even remember what the first night was like, if he got out of bed or anything. He is so tired in the evenings that he dives into bed and happily closes his eyes (after pitching everything over the side...he doesn't like animals or pillows, and he begrudgingly tolerates a blanket).

Naps, on the other hand, are a totally different story.

Benjamin is currently on a one (majorly needed) nap a day for close to three hours. He truly needs a minimum of two hours - anything shorter and we are mi-ser-a-ble an hour later. He was going down around 11:00, though on many days lately he's not quite ready until 12:00.

So. The techniques.

When Benjamin is all riled up and ornery, going down for a nap is cause for much drama. His first attempts at napping in a bed that did not contain him were like eating from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. He thought he had freedom to do as he pleased simply because the physical barrier had been removed. Goodness gracious.

I started by approaching getting out of bed as defiance. (Defiance is the only reason for which I spank him.) For example, I put him to bed with the usual routine and then left the room. When I walked past the door and saw the light switching on and off rapidly, I went in, reexplained the expectation, and put him to bed.

Upon the second offense, he got one swift, hard smack on the bum (setting off the tears) and put him into bed with a kiss, an "I love you", and an admonition to stay in bed.

The first one or two times this worked. But then the swagger of the freedom to get out of bed built up. One afternoon I spanked him in six consecutive occasions over the course of an hour. He was not relenting, and he was not falling asleep, and we were not getting anywhere. I was frustrated and tired. So was he. In fact, he was by that time overtired, and that is a realm that no parent wants to enter.

I can't recall if it was that same day or the next, but at some point early on I recalled a technique I had seen on the Supernanny show. She coached parents to do this when they started enforcing a bedtime for the first time (I am always amazed by parents who do not think bedtime is important) and the children would keep coming out of their rooms or crawling into their parents beds. The trick is this: do the bedtime routine with the child. Spend the time to lovingly, calmly get them into bed. Remind them to stay there if need be. Then turn off the lights and sit somewhere in the room with your back to them until they fall asleep.

Sounds easy, no? The truth is, for a kid who is determined to do his own thing, that poor parent has to follow Supernanny's other instructions...every time the child gets out of bed, the parent says nothing, but physically places the child back into bed. On the show, sometimes parents do this 115 times over a two-and-a-half-hour period. The kid screams, rants, kicks, and throws himself around. Mom silently reinforces the expectation with no show of emotion and no verbal engagement in haggling, explaining, promising, bribing, or begging.

I do remember it was a Sunday after church. I was tired. I really wanted to go take a nap myself. The Papa was lying in bed reading a magazine, and Little P was wildly not succumbing to sleep. The spankings were not working. I needed a new approach. I knew it was time to buckle down for however long was required to do the technique right. I launched into it.

Little P fought with the force of a strong-willed toddler. He got out of bed. I put him back silently. He kicked and screamed. He got out of bed. I put him back. This occurred about three dozen times. In between getting out of bed, he kicked his legs on his bed (thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump!), bit the railings, threw himself against the railings, threw his blanket out of the bed, and wailed. He also tried other methods:

"Mama? I love you. Mama? I love you. I love you, Mama."

"Whatchoo doin'? Mama, whatchoo doin'?"

"Are you happy, Mama? I happy."

"I gonna play cars, Mama. OK? I gonna play cars." [He got out of bed and tried to walk to the car bin.]

"Peekaboo, Mama." I looked back because it sounded like he sat up and found him peering through the bars on the guard rail. "Peekaboo, Mama. I see you. Mama? Look at me."

He put his feet on the railing and moved them along the slats. "I climbing the ladder. I climbing the ladder. Mama? I climbing the ladder."

I did not respond to any conversation starters. I also ignored all noise and behavior EXCEPT the two things I cared about - sitting up in bed and getting out of bed. He could rage, sing or talk as long as he was horizontal. Then came this...

"OK. I goin' sit up now. OK, Mama? I goin' sit up....[rustling around is heard]. I sitting up, Mama."

Oh, he is too, too funny, this child.

This first attempt took an hour and twenty minutes, but he finally fell asleep.

I closed the door and walked out a new Mama. I had won that battle, and it was a foundational one. I had stuck it out to the bitter end. My will outlasted his. I was fair, not cruel. I was the authority. He would gain a new respect for nap time.

Sort of.

It actually took a few more of such standoffs to make the point, but none lasted as long as that first one. I occasionally still have to sit there for a half hour, but now he just yammers and kicks his legs. He will not get out of bed or even sit up if I am there.

And even the spanking, when needed, is more effective. Here's my one other method:

Yesterday I was going to go visit a friend. The Papa was sick in bed, and Little P was not performing on schedule. I sat in his room for fifteen minutes and was worried about being late to meet my friend. He was lying there talking to himself, and his punchy mood told me he posed a flight risk. I couldn't have him messing around with no one to follow up on him, and I didn't want The Papa inconvenienced (given his physical state), so I left the room and stood right outside the door. Almost immediately I heard little feet running around and something clunked off the shelf.

I swung open the door, swooped him up over my knee, gave a single, hard spank, and put him into bed. (My spanking method is to only give one swat, but it is hard enough to hurt. It is my opinion that this is more powerful than 4-5 wimpy hits. Also, a child who is spanked should experience consistency. He should know how many hits he's going to get so that there's no fear of if it's going to be two or ten. The number of hits should never depend on the parent's mood or level of frustration. This is confusing and harmful to the child and/or the relationship. Likewise, if the spank is going to matter to the child, it needs to smart.)

I did the usual kiss and "I love you," and goodnight, and left the room. I waited until he quit crying and talking to himself and then reentered the room. He was still in bed. I praised him for it explicitly. "Wow! You're doing such a good job staying in bed! What a big boy! I'm proud of you!" I got ready to go and just before leaving I popped my head in again. He was still awake, but his eyes were drooping. He was still lying in bed, so I said all the praise again.

(It's important to be explicit when praising children. They are not just being a "good boy or girl", they are doing a good job on _______. Or they are being obedient/kind/helpful/safe by following Mama's instructions/sharing the truck/cleaning off the table/holding Mama's hand while walking through the parking lot. This is how they learn exactly what is pleasing and exactly what is not appropriate.)

I left to visit my friend, confident that he was really going to stay in bed until he fell asleep.

So, those are the two ways I handle the getting-out-of-bed problem. I think that which one is effective depends on where your child is in the process. Supernanny's approach is really good for establishing the expectation and helping the kid understand you are serious and committed to the routine. The spanking works better after the expectation is clear and the child needs a little dose of external motivation in order to pull off the self-control part.

Does anyone else have suggestions?

A Snapshot of The Pod

As I write, Little P and his little cousin, Amal, are laughing, shrieking, running and crawling in and through the fort we built in the dining room with two tables, four blankets and a tunnel. Diana is preparing to take them out in the front yard to blow off more steam, as baby Koa is napping and the boys are growing louder and louder with each passing minute.

This morning was our second day of home preschool. I am exhausted...in a good way. Diana and I decided to get a curriculum and start teaching the boys. Let's just say that two-year-old boys are like border collies: loyal and smart and energetic and cool...and destructive and surly if they do not have a puzzle or a job every day. I guess when your mind and body are growing at a faster rate then will ever occur in the rest of your life, you need to exercise them. Use them. Master them. Or they will master your Mama, and that is just not right.

For now, our Horizons preschool curriculum is in route to us, so I found some materials on the Internet that can be printed off. We are working on the letter T - it's one of the easier ones to write, and it is the first letter of so many of Little P's favorite things - trains, turtles, and triangles. The boys colored train pieces that covered four lengths of paper yesterday. We taped them together, hung them on the wall, and proudly showed them off when the papas got home from work. Today they practiced writing T and t, and we made a turtle out of construction paper shapes and some glue. They are hanging on the wall now, too, along with the big T's they colored, er, scribbled on.

Of course, "writing" happens when a mama holds a crayon in a little boy's hand and moves it to trace the dots. Little boys aren't doing this yet on their own.

If you ask Benjamin to talk about colors, he always brings up green. As for shapes, it's the triangle. His favorite letter so far is "B", and the numbers he likes best are 3, 4, 5. When he says them, they sound like one word.

We also make shapes in Play-doh and then squish them (after shouting out the correct name). We draw shapes on the sidewalk with chalk and then jump on them in the order that their names are called out. We name the colors of the cars and trucks we pass as we go for our morning walk. (We have been walking The Papa to work four times a week).

Benjamin just counted to 10 on his own two days ago, perfectly in order. It was, thus far, his first and only time doing so.

And, though I have NOT been taking potty training very seriously and he is still in diapers the majority of the time (and I am SO ready to dump the diapers), Benjamin actually peed on the toilet today! This is the first time that his asking to sit on the toilet coincided with pee actually coming out while on the toilet. The poor guy usually freezes up.

In other news, I still have not had time to get proficient with my new computer, AND we've been under the weather around here. I would like to be officially well once again. Alas, we are three weeks into a cold that laid me out on my back for six days of total uselessness and, while I feel definitively better, I am still suffering from congestion, a cough, and fatigue. I had my first cup of coffee in a month yesterday and it didn't even taste good. It's all about medicinal strength teas right now. Don't cry for me, P-Podders. It gets worse.

Benjamin has also been sick at this time. In fact, during a church group meeting at our house one night, he puked all over his bed. I threw him in the tub, changed the sheets on his bed, got him all clean and ready for bed again, and as I was singing his bedtime song, he puked on me and the carpet. It went all down my front, and, pardon me fellows, into my bra. Brent took over and I ran off to shower. When I took off my bra, the cups were filled with vomit. Can this just be my one yucky puke story for him? Could I perchance get off the hook until he's 18 and moving into a dorm?

Benjamin has taken to jumping on his bed. He grabs the rail and jumps. Last night I put him to bed. He acted so tired - yawning and lying down immediately. I walked out, closed the door, and seriously...24 seconds after leaving his room, I heard jumping on the bed. I decided that, this time, I would wait a minute and see if it died out on its own. Besides, I had to go to the bathroom and my feet were cold so I wanted to find my slippers. I was washing my hands when I heard a thump and loud crying. Clearly he had whacked his chin on the railing while jumping. I went in.

He was wailing away. "Do you want a kiss on your cheek or your hand?" My standard response to all injurious events. "Kiss a owchie, Mama. Kiss a owchie," his voiced cracked and he pointed to his chin.

"Did you hurt yourself jumping?" I asked. Suddenly all the crying stopped and he looked at my with wide eyes.

Caught.

"How sad. When little boys jump on the bed they can hurt themselves." I thought that was enough of a lecture for an almost two-year-old, so I gave him a few more kisses and laid him back down. This time when I left the room there was complete silence.

I'm learning to allow consequences to speak for themselves, a la Love and Logic parenting techniques. And, boy, can this work.

Benjamin liked to climb up in the big rocking chair on the hardwood floor and rock away. Hard. Fast. He would get the chair balanced on that pointy part of the back rail and it would hang there a second before coming back down. Diana is a slightly more concerned mama than me. When she saw this she would dive toward the chair, a split second before it quit hovering and started the downward roll. I just sat there watching. I had admonished him and showed him how to rock appropriately, and it was at the point where either I gave him a spanking for being defiant or I let nature take its toll.

Ahem.

So it finally happened. He rocked himself right over backwards and he came down with a thunderous whump! Oh, he scared himself silly! He was not much hurt (the bars on the seat back are wide and flat and he was already leaning on them in order to rock, and, really, he wasn't that far from the ground), though I'm sure it didn't feel good. He cried and got lots of empathy and kisses from Mama.

And then, he did not climb up into that chair for a week. Today was his first attempt, and all he did was crawl up and then get back down. I think the mad rocking days are through.

I need to post pictures of a few recent events, but I'll let you know in words so you can hold me accountable:

1. Cousins Seth and Diana and Amal and Koa moved in with us in October.

2. Benjamin got a new bedroom with fresh paint and kid-like decorations. He FINALLY has a super-cute kid room!

3. Our fearless toddler scaled his crib two months ago making The Papa really nervous. Not 12 hours later, Benjamin's crib was turned into a toddler bed and Mama got dragged into the pit of despair...it is hard to no longer have a safe place to contain an outrageously behaving toddler. As it is now December, Mama has forthwith survived the transition, and Little P has learned that there are consequences for getting out of bed at inappropriate moments.

4. Benjamin is helping Papa around the house. The two of them repaired a step and clean bike parts in the garage. In fact, when I come upon Benjamin doing something with his toys and I ask him, "What are you doing?" He frequently replies, "I working."

I can't promise when the pictures will come, but they will. We hope you are well on your way to a Merry Christmas!