The Big Red Button

As hard as I try to be cool calm and collected, there are moments where the kids just seem hellbent on pushing the anger button – that big red button that sets my blood to boil, that big red button that says “DO NOT PRESS” written on it in a font that only kids can’t understand…

I admit that I have to fumble around for ages to pop the button back out again (ie., defuse the temper). Sometimes I wish it simply wasn’t there but it is and I have to deal with it…

The main two ways they seem to press  mine are

1) telling me they are/aren’t doing something when the opposite is clearly true. eg: Oldest Son says “I’m not doing anything to him” while his arms are wrapped around his brother’s neck…

2) ignoring me. I realise analytically (rationally) that this is normal, that it’s not personal, that whatever it is they’re doing is just soaking up their available bandwidth and Dad’s voice can’t get through. I know the techniques for calmly gaining their attention. But this still gets to me!!!!!

[Deep breath]

So. What presses yours?

Subscription Kaniptions

Just a short one today. Make sure when you sign up for a month’s subscription for your son with “Webosaurs” (think Club Penguin with dinosaurs beating the hell out of each other), that you read the fine print carefully.

Having purchased multiple single-month-only subscriptions from Club Penguin for youngest son over the year, I assumed things would work the same with the new guys. IE., you purchase a month’s subscription and you get a month’s subscription and when it runs out, it runs out.

Oh no. You purchase a month’s subscription and if you don’t cancel it before the month runs out, you automatically purchase a second. (That’s a diplomatic way of saying “I feel like Webosaurs went into my paypal account and stole 6 bucks from me but I’m probably at fault here somewhere and even if I’m not, I’ll be made to feel that way – and in fact I was when I contacted Webosaurs…” etc).

Hey, it’s only $6 right?

Yeah, but it was my $6 and I didn’t want them to have it.

So word to the wiser-than-me, read the terms and conditions, read the parent’s guides on these sites carefully, ask them a bunch of questions and unless they’re owned by a reputable company like Disney, you should probably buy your kid a comic or a ball with the $6.

The Fine Art of Meddling

Want to build a cubby house with your kids?  Here’s how not to do it.

Many moons ago, I found myself building a “cubby-house” (or more likely a lean-to) for my oldest son. Only problem was, it shouldn’t have been me building it. Let me explain…

I’d been reading about how pre-teen boys need to engage with the outdoors and some have the instinct to build shelters to prove to themselves they could fend for themselves. It all sounded rather plausible and when my son came to me asking if he could build a “cubby” in the backyard, because his friend Nathan had just done that in his, I was all for it. We went to see a friend of mine, a carpenter, who kindly made some suggestions about what materials and even gave my son (and me!) a crash course in building and construction. We assembled the materials and went home to build it.

I know what you’re thinking: “What a great Dad! Giving his son space and encouragement to do it. And look at his rippling muscles in that picture as he even gets involved with the project. I wish I had a Dad like that.”

… actually, you shouldn’t wish that.

From the start, this project was undermined by two of my tendencies that I battle constantly:

• the need to be seen as a great Dad – particularly by my kids – and
• the need to teach things … actually, let’s call that last one what it really is: the need to micromanage (to direct or control in a detailed, often meddlesome manner).

Things first came unstuck when I told him, no you can’t build it where you want to, you have to build it where I want you to. At first pass, this might sound like a good thing, and – look – if he had wanted to build it on the roof of our house or nail it to my wife’s car, then fair enough, I should say no. But he simply wanted to attach it to the back fence. I didn’t like that and said, no build it over here.

The next problem came when I stayed outside to assist him instead of going into the house and leaving him to it. Now, my excuse was he asked me to stay, specifically to hold the beams while he hammered. Again, good dadship to be there for him? But alack! and alas! I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut.

When he said “Dad I can’t do this!!”, struggling to get the nail into the wood, I could have said, “Yes you can; keep at it champ.” Sometimes I do encourage him this way. But not this time. I could have said, “This wood is pretty hard, it’s probably not suited to this. Do you want to finish what we can with the other pieces then go out and find another piece that’s easier to work with?” That would have allowed him to stay in control and saved face for him. I could have said that but I didn’t.

I said, “Let me have a try.”

Those 5 little words resulted ultimately in the photo you see above. Where is my son in that photo? Nowhere. (My other son is taking it). Oldest Son has by this time gone inside frustrated. After twenty minutes of rising tension about how to do things, he’d thrown a mild tantrum and given up. Because whereas I thought I was communicating “I’m here for you”, what he heard was “You can’t do it, give a real man the hammer.”

As usual from little things, big things grow. From my small action – well TWO small actions – discouragement flourished.

The results: four planks of wood loosely nailed together in my backyard and sitting there for months like that, a boy who lost interest in building things and a Dad still kicking himself.

You might say all sorts of things like, “The boy should have had thicker skin” and such. I seriously don’t think this one was about him being oversensitive. I think I truly screwed up.

The lessons for me were twofold:

1. be careful not to communicate to a boy that he can’t do ‘it’  [there are so many subtle and not-so subtle ways we can do this]
2. be careful not to discourage a kid from a passion of theirs in any way

In this case, there was a fine line between directing and discouraging, between placing boundaries around his activity and meddling with it. Knowing my son, what he needed and desired from me was my company, my pride in him, my encouragement.

Sometimes kids need to be allowed to make a mess of our backyards, to risk putting a crack in our fence palings, and even to try-and-fail without being shown “how to do it properly” (especially by someone like me who really didn’t know how to do it anyway.)

“Your Boredom is Your Responsibility”

The witty catchphrase above is a response I used for a time with Oldest Son when (for two years in a row) he would hang around me chanting that favourite mantra of children everywhere:

“I’m bored, I’m bored, I’m boring, it’s so boring.

I’m bored, I’m bored, I’m bored, it’s so boring.”

I was listening to the latest production of the Daddy Dialogs and a comment of Roland’s reminded me of this time in my life. The Bored Mantra would get particularly bad during Summer Holidays.

Now I know I wrote about this only 10 months ago. And many of you have already responded there with how you combat what I called the Boring Song in that post (basically the same as the Boring Mantra, but a even more annoying). What Roland reminded me of was one of the strategies I used to good effect during one Summer holiday when Oldest Son was 6 or 7.

Basically, I made a list of activities, had he and his little bro add a few ideas, then stuck it on the fridge. Each time I’d hear the chanting begin, he (Big Brother) would have the choice of going to his room for an hour OR choosing something from the list. Yes, there was resistance. Yes, it didn’t always end the grumbling instantly. But it worked and it did put the respsonsibility back on him.

For new readers, I’m always interested in boredom busters as well as strategies to help kids stop pestering parents when they could be using their brains and bodies more appropriately…

Break It Up!!

In my reading of Kindred magazine yesterday, I was particularly attracted to the article The Joy of Siblings. It was about helping siblings get along with each other … and which one among you will try to claim that your kids never fight with each other? This is my greatest stressor as a parent (or maybe the second greatest after “You need how much money?!!”)

Here’s the 3 pieces of advice the author (courtesy of KidsHealth.org) provided for that moment when the fight is on, and you’re feeling the need to step in. What I’m interested in is your responses to this advice.

1. Separate kids until they’re calm. Sometimes it’s best to just to give them space for a little while and not immediately rehash the conflict. If you want to make this a learning experience, wait until the emotions have died down.
2. Don’t put too much focus on figuring out which child is to blame. It takes two to fight – anyone who is involved is partly responsible.
3. Next, try to set up a ‘win-win’ situation so that each child gains something. When they both want the same toy, perhaps there’s a game they could pay together instead.

Ok, there are the suggestions. I’m not here to particularly laud this advice nor be critical. But, as I said, I’m interested in your responses.

Just two of my own thoughts are as follows:

First, point #1 hit home. I have a tendency to try to create learning moments in the heat of battle. By now, everything I know about the human brain should have taught me this is stupid: our fight/flight responses are hijacking our ability to think rationally in  conflict.

So I’m making it a goal this week to put this one into practise… And I’ll probably get plenty of that practise.

Second, re: point #2… It sounds noble and it sounds even reasonable to a degree. Sometimes we overdo the analysis and the finger-pointing. But there are times where it’s plain someone is responsible. When I see one son throw something at the other unprovoked (and from point blank range), it’s pretty obvious the one getting hit is not co-creating the situation.

Oh, the fight will be on afterwards and I guess I could say that the “victim” had a choice to not respond in kind. Yes, that’s true. But in the end, I’m going to have to create consequences and maybe a learning moment for the child with the “nefarious intent” (as Bad Dad is fond of saying in his podcasts).

The most difficult task when my kids are fighting is to stay calm myself and allow the rational parts of my brain to control my mouth.

Well, that’s my 2 cents. What’s yours?

Boring!

Amanda (aka Mad Cow) was recently lamenting Long Weekends, particularly the familiar child’s litany of “I’m Bored!”.

As I told her, in my humble opinion, even if you were the fifth Wiggle or Krusty the Klown, you’d still get kids telling you “I’m bored”.

When you hear this litany I hope you don’t take it personally, parents. In my opinion, it’s not a comment about us (at least most of the time, anyway), rather it’s about the child’s ability to keep themselves entertained … and about their making the choice to not be bored.

(Often, I’m told, it’s a sign of intelligence. That makes me feel a lot better and I hope it makes Amanda feel better too!)

Since he was 3, I’ve told Oldest Son he’s responsible for being bored and if he doesn’t like it, then he has the power to change it.

This has worked well with Youngest Son (who’ll get bored with being bored – and go invent a game about Firemen rescuing Batman and killing the pirates and aliens who started the fire).

But despite my best efforts, it did not work with Oldest Son who – at 11 -still sits around  the house during holidays singing choruses of the Boredom Song to annoy any who will listen.

You know the Boredom Song. It goes a little something like this (and you have to imagine a techno beat playing behind it):

It’s Boring

Boring

Boring

Boring

Borrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-inggggggggggggggg…

I’m bored…

Bored

Bored

Bored

I’m bored …. because it’s booorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiinggggggggg!

Actually, if you know this song, you’ll also know you don’t need to imagine the doof-doof of a techno beat behind it, as the prepubescent singer usually accompanies themselves with banging a staccato rhythm on a pot, a bench or their sister’s head.

Sigh. Summer holidays are fast approaching in Australia…

… and I hate the Boredom Song…

How do you truly wise parents help your kids overcome boredom? Give the rest of us some tips, will ya?

Things that make me laugh while simultaneously annoying me, #34

Mad Cow recently posted on the subject of literality. Her post even contains violence, so it’s a good read for us males. This was my comment on her post:

I get what you say about literality. I love the word. I have to warn you: this gets worse as they get older and gets melded to the smart-arse gene if they carry one, like mine do.

“Oh you want me to hop to it, Dad? Ok.” (Slowly hops to room)

“What’s that Mum? You want me to be kind. Kind of what?”

“I can’t give you five, Dad. I don’t have any wrapping paper” (?!)

“No I won’t answer you Mum, you told me before to be quiet.”

How does literality show up in your home?

Noise

What is it with kids and noise?

• Have you ever asked yourself how something as small as a baby, with lungs presumably 80% smaller that yours, can scream so freakin’ LOUD?!
• Have you ever been frustrated by kid logic that says “Parent, thou shalt not make noise during my TV show… but during thy TV show, I shalt make as much noise as I shalt please”?
• Do you ever wonder why the act of sitting inside a car seems to automatically turn a child’s volume knob up to “11″? [Unless they're a teenager of course]

Yesterday, a 45-minute journey to a beautiful Mornington Peninsula beach was a little marred for me by kid-noise.

Squeals at that special pitch that perforates my left ear-drum.

Shouts that overwhelmed the punch-line of each joke I told my wife.

Just that persistent noise that relentlessly eats away at your sanity.

Some people say “it’s about the journey, not the destination”. Those idiots obviously haven’t travelled to the beach with my kids. [The actual time at the beach was fantastic.... but then we had to get back in the car again...]

I don’t know what it is that goes through a kid’s mind once the seatbelt is buckled. It may sound something like this:

• “Oh, I’m in a confined space. No one can possibly hear me if I speak at what would be considered normal pitch and volume. Better crank it up.”

Call me cynical.

I think kids have their own rules for life. And whether an adult likes it or not, there are three options for a child traveling in the backseat of a car:

1. Utilise siblings as objects of torture for your own amusement. Permissible forms of torture include: wet willies, chinese burns, throwing things into the front seat and blaming the sibling … or even nearly-but-not-quite-touching-them. (”Dad he’s nearly touching me!” “Billy! Stop not touching your sister!”)
2. Having a whole lot of fun, but with complete disregard for your parents’ whining pleas for having fun at a quieter level.
3. Peaceful and occasional conversation about interesting objects you’ve noticed in the passing countryside or about subjects that interest your parents like Current Affairs or Stories from Your Parents’ Childhood. [This option is greatly feared by all children everywhere: "Oh, crap, Dad's about to tell us about the time he came here as a boy; quick throw something and scream gibberish - that'll distract him!"]

Maybe thing’s would have been different if I’d listened to the kind of advice I’d dish out to another Dad (with an appropriately wise expression on my face). Advice like “Mate, why don’t you play a game with them? Then you’re in control.”

Because – hey – in the end, they had a great time:

They discovered a new way of making fart noises [yes: a louder way]…

Oldest Son got his butt jammed in the electric window of the car just as the power automatically shut off [yes, we were parked at the time] …

They made up the noises and language of a new species of alien mutant cow-wolf [at least that's what it sounded like]…

It was only me getting annoyed.

(But I still don’t like kid-noise)

A Day in the Life of a Work-from-home Dad during School Holidays

9.15. Trying to work.

• “Dad I’m hungry”
• “You just finished breakfast.”
• “That was twenty minutes ago.”
• “Wait until 10.00, then you can have a snack”
• “BUT THAT’S AGES AWAY!”
• “Drink some water.”
• A door slams.

10.17. Trying to work.

• “Dad where’s the remote?”
• “You tell me.”
• “I’ve looked everywhere.”
• “Behind the TV?”
• “… except there … Oh, here it is. Thanks Dad … And Dad?”
• “Mm?”
• “I’m really hungry.”
• “You just ate 15 minutes ago.”
• “I’ve digested that already.”
• Grrrrrr.

11.52. Trying to work. The voice on the other end of my VOIP-phone conversation is suddenly garbled as Son A logs into his hotmail account…

• “Get off the internet!”
• “Sorry, Dad. By the way, I’m hungry.”

12.48. Trying to work. The file I’m looking for takes me twenty minutes to find, buried under chip packets, post-it notes with computer game cheat-codes and DVD covers – all on my desk. Sadly, the chip packets aren’t mine. 

1.31. Trying to work. Screams, tears, doors slamming.

• “What is going on here??!”
• Son B: “He hit me!”
• “Did you hit your brother?”
• Son A: “Yes.”
• Son B: “Four times!”
• Son A: “It was only 3 times.”
• “Ok, go to your room and come see me when you have a good way to make it up to your brother.”
• Son A (storming away): “Great! Wish I’d never had a brother!”
• Son B (now glaring at me): “Why’d you have to be so mean to him?”
• “…?”

2.58. “Dad I’m hungry”

3.17. Give up on trying to work; I’m not gettting anywhere anyway. 

• “Boys, wanna go play football?”
• “No thanks Dad, we’re busy.

Grrrrr.