Why I don't make my kids say...anything!

Hey, folks! I'm back. Admit it. You missed me. :)

So here's the thing. I REALLY don't want to be one of those moms who doesn't want anyone else to discipline her child...but I am. I mean, if everyone approached discipline the way I do, it would be a different story; however, they don't. And since I'm pretty particular about it, it bothers me to see other adults talking in a demeaning way to my kids. Mamma Bear breaks loose. There's blood. It's not pretty.

The sad thing is that most of these parents do not realize that the way they are talking to my children is something that I (and they) would term "demeaning." So there's the problem. How do you say, "Hey, stop treating my kid the same way you treat your kid because I think it's disrespectful and mean," without implying that the way they raise their own kids is disrespectful and mean? Well, you can't. So when this happens, I admit. I freeze. You've heard of "flight or fight"? Well, there's another "f" - freeze. That's what I do. Yep, I'd be dinner in the jungle, for sure. But I really am at a loss at times. Torn between not wanting to make enemies of the other parents in the playgroup or at the park, etc., and not wanting my kids to be treated like crap...I know, it shouldn't even be a question, right? Wrong. Either way, someone is getting hurt. But here's where I differ from most...

I HATE... I mean I really, really HATE the idea of telling kids to say...ANYTHING. "Say sorry", "say please", "say thank you", "say hello", "say bye-bye"..."what do we say?" Makes me cringe. Here's why. First of all, children don't take orders well. It's just not our nature. It's not how we learn best. We learn best by imitation. We learn LEAST through direct orders and "teaching." Telling a child to "say thank you" is far less effective than simply saying "thank you" yourself whenever you are thankful for something. That way, the phrase does not just become a mash of empty words. It has meaning. Children WILL begin to say "thank you", "please", and "I'm sorry", when they reach a developmental stage of being able to be truly thankful, pleased, or sorry for something. Is a child truly sorry if forced to say it? Probably not. That is called LYING. I will not teach my children to lie. It does NOT teach them to be polite, courteous people. It teaches them that (a) empty words fix things, (b) it is ok to lie if it gets you out of trouble or pleases someone else, and (c) these adults do not respect you because they are forcing you to say something you do not want to say. Want your kids to be polite? Be polite to them. Ask them to do things, rather than telling them. Say "please", "thank you", and "excuse me"...and mean it. It's not difficult. Stop over-thinking it. You have better things to do, I'm sure.

So no, you will never hear me tell my child to apologize for hitting, stealing from, yelling at, kicking, or stabbing your child. Get over that. If my child is truly sorry for his/her actions, he/she will show it. If not, well, guess what - "sorry" won't make your kid's knee stop hurting or put his toy back together again, nor will it make my child remorseful. Believe it or not, it is completely NORMAL for a child of 1, 2, 3, 4...even 5 or 6 years old to NOT feel remorse over every little wrong doing. Hell, most adults aren't "sorry" about half the things they do "wrong", for that matter. So if my three-year-old gets mad at your kid for telling him that he can't play with her, and he hauls off and hits her in the face in anger and doesn't feel sorry about it...that's normal. But, in many parents' minds I guess that makes my kid an asshole.

Sorry. :/

Flowers in the Crockpot

Just another parenting "aha" moment. Leonidas was standing on a chair next to the table and he grabbed some flowers out of the vase on the table. He was smelling them and saying how beautiful they were. Then he lifted up the lid of the (empty and unplugged) crockpot and said, "I put flowers in there?" I immediately said, kindly, "No, silly, flowers don't go in the crockpot; they go in the vase."

I immediately regretted saying this.

No, he didn't get upset or throw a fit (those of you who know Leonidas are already asking this question, I'm sure). In fact, he put them back into the vase. And it saddened me. Where was his warrior spirit? Where was the protest?

I felt as though I had broken my son.

Here he was, two years old, and thinking outside of the box, so to speak. He was being creative! He was using his imagination to make that crockpot beautiful and I CRUSHED it. Who cares if there are flowers in the crockpot? Are the crockpot gods going to knock on my door and give me a citation? Maybe the flowers would have looked nice there. What if, some day, when he's grown, and he has a house of his own, and he gets a bouquet of flowers, but doesn't have a vase to put them in - or anything similar - will he think,"Hmm, maybe I could put them in the crockpot. They might look quite lovely there," or will he think, "Damn, I have no place to put these flowers. I'll have to throw them away"??? What if I hadn't just given him the "Flowers don't go in the crockpot" schema, and when he's older, he creates beautiful crockpot floral displays whose uniqueness and universal appeal make him wealthy beyond his wildest dreams? What if I just destroyed his dream?!

Ok, ok, a little too Butterfly-Effect on that one, but you get the idea.

The point is, I just sacrificed a tiny portion of my child's creativity for the sake of...what? Some prissy notion of "that's not the proper place for that", the foundations of which escape me completely and the logic behind which is almost just as elusive?

I say go ahead, child, you put those flowers in the crockpot and display them proudly! Let them bloom like the creative, intelligent individual you are, and make way for more out-of-the-box thinking to come, because flowers in the crockpot, child, are just the tip of the ice burg.

Free-Rangin' at the Park

For those of you who may not know, aside from being the last day of the Earth's existence (haha, yeah, that was totally sarcasm), today was also the second annual "Take Our Children to the Park...and Leave Them There Day." Of course, being the parent of free-range children that I am, I participated, albeit in a modified way, in this mini-holiday.

Wait, wait, now before you call CPS...NO, I did NOT leave my two children, ages 25 months and 10 months, at the park by themselves.

Actually, I did what I do every time I take them to the park: I sat down on the grass and let them go off and play by themselves. Ruby never goes far - she plays in the grass or eats the dirt, or what have you, lost in her own little world and happy as a lark. Leonidas goes off to play on the playground equipment, climbing up the steps, rings, chains, bars, and slides...then climbing or sliding down, and doing this over and over and over again, happy as can be. So I suppose, this was really no different than any other day at the park. It just had purpose.

I wondered how many others were there under the same pretense. There did seem to be an unusual amount of parent-less children running about, but I had never been to this particular park, so that could have been the norm. As soon as we got there, he was befriended by an eight-year-old named Marilyn, who became his mother-for-the-day. He had so much fun! He learned a lot from Marilyn - how to climb up the ladder, how to go down the slide without scraping his stomach (after scraping his stomach the first time), and how to slow himself down on the swings without falling off.

In addition, for the first time in the history of his two years of park-going experience...Leonidas fell off the playground equipment!

Haha, it was fabulous! Don't worry, he's fine. He was fine within one minute of falling. He would have been fine without me, although I walked over to him anyway to make him feel more secure. He was climbing down the metal ladder, and had only gotten down one rung from the top before he tried to reach the next rung, found he was too short, and slipped off, falling down to the bottom level of the whole contraption. He landed well, didn't hit his head, and his "new mother" was instantly there, and eight-year-old savior, to apologize for not being there and to make sure he was not hurt. I held him for a minute, sat down with him, and after another minute, he was off...climbing the ladder again. Guess what - he learned what NOT to do when climbing up and down the ladder, and climbed it flawlessly at least a dozen times before we finally went home. On the way home, he told me, "My fall on the slide." "You fell off the slide at the park?" I asked him. "Yeah," he said, "my fall. My got hurt on the slide. My ok now. My happy." I think that pretty much summed it up.

I'm glad he had fun at the park with his friends. I'm glad he fell. I'm glad he learned from it with no permanent damage done, and I'm glad he's smarter and stronger from the experience. Of course, it HURTS me to see my babies get hurt, even for a moment. But it's so amazing when they come out of it healthy, strong, and above all, HAPPY. I am thankful for the opportunity to be able to give my child a lifetime of free-range moments of learning and laughter. And who knows, maybe next year when he's three, he'll be able to take the bus to the park himself, buy lunch for all his friends, then find a kindly-looking stranger to give him a ride home...

Totally kidding.

Living Dangerously!

Let's play a game. It's called, "How many dangers can you find in this picture?"

Let's see...pant legs that are too long (tripping hazard), long hair obstructing vision, child under the age of two standing above ground level (on one foot, no less), child playing on metal bench not intended for toddler recreation (with wooden, splinter-ridden boards - horror!), muddy play surface (reduced-traction hazard)...

And let's not forget the worst one...trees...

"Wait, wait. Dangers," you may ask, "what dangers? All I see is a child having fun!"

Or at least, this is what you might say if you, like myself, are in the process of raising Free-Range Kids.

On the other hand, you may be one of the "others." You know, the parents who think their kids are living in the next "final Destination" sequel, with random, freak accidents lurking around every corner, lying in wait for your unsuspecting children...

But we all know that isn't reality, right? Right?

...

"But what if..." I know, I know. What if tragedy strikes. Then it would be just that: A tragedy. Indeed, it's something I don't really even want to think of when it comes to my children. In fact, I'll let you in on a little secret...

I used to be one of the "others."

Ok, ok, so it's no secret. Everyone knows I've had my helicopter moments. But I'm changing. Really. In fact, I'm committed to it, wholeheartedly, for the sake of my sanity, for the sake of my marriage, and most of all, for the sake of my children. I don't want them to be afraid of everything outside their front door. I want them to be happy and live fully. I want them to be KIDS while they still can, so they can grow into fine adults. I want to raise children who are rowdy, crazy, a bit spoiled, a bit more spirited, and very well-loved.

So, in the interest of spreading this new-found free-range wisdom, I'd like to demonstrate what "Free-Range Kids" might look like - so you can spot them in a crowd (and inform the proper authorities).















Now here's a child, about 22 month old, about to embark on a bike ride. Note the absence of parental assistance. This is a hallmark feature of the Free-Range Child.

Note that the child has successfully gotten onto the bike and is pedaling away. No intervention needed.
















Oh look, a child going for a walk...in heels...in his pajamas...

We'll just let this one speak for itself...


















This is a toddler in a bath tub. Free-Range Children often bathe in actual water, unassisted, and, in this case, are allowed to use the faucet. Crazy, I know.

















Now here is a picture of my son, almost two, helping me in the kitchen. He is cutting up butter into pieces for use in making a pie crust. Yes, that is an actual knife he is using, and it is sharp. He knows it is sharp, and knows how to use it carefully. He is also standing on a two-step step stool, and has excellent balance. You may be happy to know that he IS wearing a protective apron over his clothes. :)





NAKED BABY ALERT!














Haha, now this, I don't actually recommend, but with Free-Range Kids, this will often happen. Do not be alarmed. Just applaud him for his creativity and encourage some other, equally-fun, yet less dangerous activity such as jumping off the couch or playing with sticks.





















Ahh, now here we see Leonidas doing something else often seen in Free-Range Children: Eating. Note that he is holding his own food and getting incredibly messy...





















Actually, this was a watermelon eating contest. He did not win, but had fun in the attempt!



















Now THAT is satisfaction!


From these pictures, you can clearly see that Free-Range Kids can be found in several different arenas, enjoying several different activities, and worrying several different parents simultaneously. Feel free to point out the "dangers" in these pictures and warn everyone around you of what "could" happen. I probably won't be listening, since I will be beaming from ear to ear, listening to the laughter of babies and watching my children grow up happy, healthy, and FREE!