Ain't Misbehaving...
I was hoping to never have to write this post. But I have a confession. Or maybe it is a cry for help.
*dramatic pause*
My toddler misbehaves.
I know, you are beside yourself with disbelief. I'm sure the concept of an unruly toddler is new to you. I'm not completely certain why I am so caught off guard by my quickly-emerging issue. Maybe it is because I am a first-time parent. Everything is new to me, and I can fortunately still blame all my mistakes on my Parenting Learner's Permit (there are Parenting Mulligans, correct?). Sadly, I must admit I am somewhat delusional. Somewhere, in the recesses of my subconscious, I had myself convinced that I would have a perfectly content and well-behaved child.Oh, how ignorance is bliss to the first-time parent.
First, my child is far from ever being "content." Little Chica is always on the go, with her two-second attention span, moving from one activity to the next. It is exhausting, to say the least. I watch, in wonder, as her kiddy friends have the ability to sit, for minutes at a time, and read through a book or watch a television show. Some are even happy to play with the same toy for more than 60 seconds. This is not so with my daughter. My day looks much like circuit training at the gym: a rotation of blocks, books, dolls, coloring, mommy's cell phone, destroying things one shouldn't be touching, and back to blocks again. Her energetic attribute is one I have come to terms with. I do not want to label my child (ie: hyperactive, spirited, bad, etc), as so many parents are keen on doing nowadays. She does not need a prophesy to self-fulfill. She is who she is, and I love her for it. Her personality is something I can embrace and even celebrate, because I know as she grows, it is this aspect that will fuel her through life and help her to be successful (at least, that is what I tell myself to get through the day).
Misbehaved is another story. Now, I get it. Little Chica is only 18 months old. I'm sure there are some researchers out there who will say 18 month-old children do not have the mental capacity to reason or understand right from wrong. Here is what I do know: my beautiful, darling little girl has been known to go over to a lamp (which she knows she ought not touch), wait for me to look at her, smile, and then proceed to pull it down. To any researcher out there willing to listen: don't tell me she doesn't know what she is doing.
So I am faced with the question, "What do I do about it?" I thought I would have more time before finding myself feverishly flipping through parenting books in tears, searching for an answer while my misbehaving toddler stands by throwing toys at me. As with every area of parenting, there are a myriad of philosophies on disciplining, which involve a wide spectrum of models. We've seen each of these philosophies in action, at the grocery store for example: the firm but authoritative parent ("I told you, you are NOT allowed to throw the cereal boxes"), the free-spirited parent ("Wheeee I love throwing cereal boxes!"), the punishing parent ("You will get a Time Out for throwing that cereal box"), the non-punishing parent ("It's wrong to throw cereal boxes, and believe me, you don't want to find out what will happen if you do it again..."), the new age parent ("Child of mine, what is the meaning behind throwing cereal boxes?"), and so on. How does a parent know which way is the right way?
To be honest, I have no idea what what kind of parent I am. Should I know this by now? I've only just recently figured out that having the wipes ready and next to me during the diaper changing process will change my life (without me having to change my clothes). Little Chica still uses a pacifier (gasp!), and I have been known, on occasion, to forget to bring the diaper bag with me when I leave the house. I have a lot to learn.
So, after much deliberation, Hubby and I have decided that, yes, we will discipline our child. Whew, I'm glad that decision is out of the way. We'd make great members of Congress, wouldn't we? Our first encounter with discipline was tonight, after Little Chica stood up on a rocking chair for the fifteenth time, and laughed at us as we scolded her. Laughed at us. Hubby decided it was time to attempt a "Time Out."
We had not previously discussed what a Time Out would look like. And since we are committed to parental success, we made it up on the fly. Because that's how we roll. There was an unused high chair in an adjacent room, so we utilized this as the Time Out Chair. With Little Chica's laughter still fresh in our ears, we placed her in said Time Out Chair for the determined length of one minute. After she was securely strapped into the Time Out Chair, Hubby explained to Little Chica why she was in a Time Out: "We asked you several times to stop standing on the chair, but you did not listen. And you mocked us. So you are having a Time Out. We'll come get you when you are done." Firm. Loving. To the point. He's such a great Dad. And cute.
During that minute of Time Out, I thought through our decision to discipline our daughter. I weighed the pros and cons, and was haunted by visions of what Undisciplined Little Chica would grow into as a teenager (it involved nose rings, leather, pink hair and more mocking. I was terribly frightened). When the minute was up, we peeked in. Little Chica was happily chattering away with some imaginary friend, enjoying herself and completely oblivious to any punishment she had incurred from her infraction.
I think we're severely missing something.
Alas, life goes on. We will continue to read up on discipline and parenting. We will do our best to be consistent on whatever method we land on. We will try to keep our sanity. And, I'm hopeful we will find our way on the Road of Parenting. I'm still not sure what kind of parent I am, or which way is best. My hope is that the answer sounds something like, "Whatever works for you."
I could live with that.
Original post to Philly Moms. When Steph isn't researching parenting techniques and wrangling her daughter, she blogs over at Confessions of a Stay-At-Home Mom
