parenting

Why I Avoid Saying “No” to my Daughter

~ theantelopediaries

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My daughter was born two years ago today, even though her numerical birthday (August 12) is in two days. I actually counted all the weeks of her life thus far to get to that.  I’m kind of a stickler.  But throughout her life, I have worked to avoid saying the word “no.”  Instead, I try to redirect her. It came easier during her first year of life, but in the second, it is proving to be harder because she is expressing her will more passionately.

I let her do a lot of things. If she wants to play with the bunny on the balcony, I allow her, with supervision. If she wants to stand on a chair and use the kitchen faucet to fill containers, I let her, with supervision. If she wants to play with markers, I let her, if only to have some time for myself to check my email. She has colored her leg instead of paper before, (“Meh—iii,” she says to me when that happens) but she is learning, as evidenced by her legs remaining clean this past week.

If she wants to play with a tub of water in the living room, I put a bath towel on the carpet to catch the splashes. (We don’t really have another room large enough to let her do it comfortably.) I let her because I don’t want her to live in the world of “no.” They’ll be plenty of that world later.

For the record, I have said “no” to her. If she wiggles while I am trying to put a diaper on her, I tell her “no,” even shout it sometimes when the first “no” doesn’t seem to make an effect. If she wiggles in my arms or refuses to hold my hand as we are crossing the street, I tell her “dangerous” and hold her tighter. I say “dangerous” when I do things against her wishes so that she starts to get an idea of why I do not allow it. She may not know what dangerous means, or why something is dangerous, but I want her to trust me that it is. In those situations, I’m willing to say no.

But in most everything else, I’m pretty easy going, which is not at all how I am about most aspects of my life. My permissive attitude lies in contrast to some of the other parenting styles I’ve noticed. One afternoon, at a local library earlier this year, Polina took some books from a bin in the children’s department and spread them on the floor. A little girl, perhaps 3-4 years old, came up to us and sternly informed us that books belong on the shelf, not on the floor. I was surprised and didn’t know how to respond. She was so right, but oh so wrong.

“She’s only 18 months,” I stammered.

The girl’s eyes remained serious. Then her mother called her, and she ran toward her. I was relieved. I didn’t know what to say to her. That experience reaffirmed to me what I didn’t want Polina to be- a Gestapo-like enforcer by the time she is three.

A few weeks ago, at a family gathering, Polina took a chord with bells that hung on the back door of someone’s house and began carrying it. The bells hung on the door so that the family dog could indicate when he needed to go to the bathroom. I heard some of the children say that the bells belonged on the door.  I guided Polina to put the bells back. Of course she was disappointed and cried because she didn’t understand why.  Neither did I for that matter.

If it were my house, I wouldn’t have been so adamant. So a kid wants to play with bells. They are interesting to someone. So what? If a dog has to go, I would have taken them out just to be sure there wouldn’t be an accident. But it’s not my house, or dog, or bells. In someone else’s house, I abide by their rules.

Another time, Polina took out a plastic container full of rubber bands that we keep in a drawer and played with them on the carpet. We were about ready to leave, and I could see Pete was upset about something. Sure enough, it was the rubber bands. It took me five seconds to pick them all up and put them back in the drawer.

(Interestingly enough, any time a child takes something out and joins it with something else, or takes it away and puts it back, that is rudimentary math, and some studies show that this kind of play is more important for brain development and retaining concepts than traditional academia per se. I learned about these studies and gained more insight about the importance of play in the book NurtureShock by Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman.)

If they don’t have to do with safety, morals, or permanent messes, why do we have boundaries about what is acceptable children’s play? Expecting kids to act like adults is unrealistic. It reminds me of 19th century paintings where children are serene, collected, and dressed in adult style clothing. Children are portrayed as mini-adults.  In reality, children are more like Norman Rockwell drawings- active, curious, and prone to messes and mistakes.

Expecting kids to act like adults is unrealistic.

Perhaps lay people should acknowledge what scientists have already “discovered,”- that childhood is a separate period from adulthood. Perhaps we should look at it as such, and not demand so much that they act like adults. What if children demanded that we act like them? That would be pretty stressful.  No wonder children cry when they reach their limit. We are frequently asking more of them.

I am not saying that children should be free to run wild, like some Lord of the Flies apocalypse. I’m advocating moderation and patience because in the not too distant future they too will enter adulthood and adopt the culture of such.

What are the benefits of saying “yes” instead of “no?” Based on my own experience, it builds responsibility. My mother allowed me to do a lot of things, albeit not in the name of indulgence. She just wasn’t around much to say no. Because I had a lot of freedom to do what I wanted, I was very cautious about what I participated in, because at some base level, I knew I would be the one hurt.

It’s similar to what I heard about France’s approach to drinking. They allow children to taste alcohol. In many states in the US, it’s not even legal to sell alcohol to anyone under 21 years of age. Many kids go crazy over alcohol once they are able to get their hands on it. The French, meanwhile, because they have always had access to it, don’t make such a big deal over it. It is Freud that popularized that what is forbidden can actually be appealing. Like Eve with the apple.

One of the earliest things I allowed Polina to do was to sip her fruit puree pack by herself in her car seat while I was driving. Many times there were messes because she squeezed the puree pack over herself and her car seat. But now, she sips without a problem and even puts the cap back on.

Peter came home this evening from grocery shopping and commented how Polina, sitting in the driver seat of the car, took an open cup of water from the beverage holder and put it beside her in the passenger seat without spilling it. (He put her in the driver seat while he unloaded groceries from a shopping cart into the car.)

“In the old days that wouldn’t have happened,” he commented, unaware that I was writing this blog when he made that comment.

I think she learned not to spill through trial and error, which of course involved many spills. She played with water over a kitchen sink, in our living room, and numerous times when she drank from a glass instead of a sippy cup. I can understand parents who don’t let their children or their home get messy. For me, it’s not that important. It’s more important (and easier for me) that she learn not to spill water than it is to forbid her playing with water in the first place.

So, I’m open to suggestion and input. I’m always seeking, always curious about new ideas so share your comments with me if you are so inclined.

This post was originally written on August 10, 2014.

A Buffet Disaster

~ theantelopediaries

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Yesterday was one of those days that you meant to go well, but it didn’t. My husband and I took his 84-year-old mother and our two-year-old daughter to an Indian buffet we go to weekly. It is a small mom and pop restaurant- two sisters work in the front while their parents cook in the back. They have one hired help. We have been going there for many years, and they have watched Polina grow from a newborn to a toddler.

We took my mother-in-law there because we wanted to share with her some of the things we enjoy in this town.  We got the closest table to the window that was available, which also happened to be by the entryway.  That was unintentional mistake number one. Usually Polina sits in a high chair, but since she is tall, that day I let her sit at the table in a regular seat. That was soon to be unintentional mistake number two.

Polina ordered her usual- “raa” (rice.) She went to the buffet and pointed to it for added emphasis. I gave her a little cup of rice and a teaspoon. We each got our food and I sat beside her. Polina used the spoon to feed herself. The unintentional consequence is that some rice missed her mouth and fell on the floor.  (She twists the spoon to get the rice into her mouth, as opposed to covering the spoon with her mouth.)  As she put more spoons into her mouth, more rice fell beside her. At no point did she throw any of the rice onto the floor.  It was an unintentional consequence.

My mother-in-law didn’t think so. I could see she was embarrassed by the mess.

Because we were sitting by the front door, the rice was right in the entryway, possibly carried by feet to the far corners of the restaurant. I did feel bad about the rice on the floor, and perhaps it was a tad worse than usual.  Peter has gathered the grains together with a napkin before, to which the sisters ask him to stop and tell him they will clean it.  I mention this because we do generally try to be considerate.

Then Polina wanted to get down and, as her usual custom, run to the two sisters who work with the customers. The sisters treat her with mango lassi, and when she has had enough, she runs back to our table. This happens every weekend.

Putting her in an adult chair came back to bite me. It was easy for her to get down and run to the two sisters more often than if she were in a high chair. Furthermore, it happened to be a busy lunchtime for them. I kept my eye on Polina. I did not see her be in anybody’s way, but that’s not what my mother-in-law thought. I saw that she was uncomfortable with Polina being able to run back and forth.

I got up to ask the sisters if Polina was in the way. They insisted she was not. I went to the back to get a high chair, but it was stuck on top of the other high chair. I tugged and tugged, but it wasn’t budging. I couldn’t get it off.

I went back to our table. Polina’s small bowl of rice was empty.

“No more rice. She’s had enough,” said my mother-in-law.

She has to eat something, I thought to myself.

“We offer her different foods, but she prefers rice,” I responded.

I could see the disapproval on her face, and I went into defense mode.

“She’s not even two years old yet. She’s using a spoon. She’s not throwing it. How is she supposed to learn? This is how children eat,” I said, aware of my desperation.

“Yes, but not in public,” my mother-in-law responded calmly.

Then we would never eat, I thought to myself. We would never eat anywhere because expecting a two year old to behave like an adult is impossible.

My mother-in-law initially proposed treating us for the meal. We refused, of course. After all of this embarrassment, she used the money to give the sisters a big tip. I wished she had saved her money, because her using it in such a way made me feel uncomfortable in front of them.

That night, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling…. embarrassed. That Indian restaurant is our second home. We tip well and clean up after ourselves to the degree possible. (We do not leave the awful mess I saw so often when I worked as a bus girl for a chain restaurant when I was a teenager.  We stack our plates and put our napkins and silverware on top.  We do what we can to make it easier for the sisters.)  It was an unusual day in that Polina was running around more than usual because of the ease with which she could get off the chair.  And the restaurant was busy.  A perfect storm.

The family has always welcomed Polina with open arms. They take her back into their kitchen (Peter and I joke that when Polina learns to talk, she could tell us their secrets to cooking), give her lassi behind the counter, play and talk to her as time permits. If Polina becomes unruly, we take her out for a walk. It usually means she wants to run around. (Living in an apartment, I don’t blame her.) We do our best so that she is “seen but not heard” there, but I never felt embarrassed to the degree I felt waking up in the middle of the night.

I had a day to recover. The day after, a Friday, we took my mother-in-law to our other favorite Indian buffet. This time, we chose a table outside, and we got a high chair. Polina ate rice as usual, but since we were outside, we knew the birds would eat any rice that fell on the ground. Polina did not run around anywhere and stayed in her high chair.  It was a beautiful sunny day and we were shaded by a giant umbrella. My mother-in-law told Peter that it was one of her favorite days of the trip. She mentioned several times how much she enjoyed the meal and the atmosphere. Then we went to one of our favorite parks for more quality time. Polina ran around and played with a water wheel while my mother-in-law sat at a bench and watched.

Aaahhh… redemption. I felt so much better that she didn’t return home on a down note.

Lessons learned from this experience? Don’t sit by the entry way and put Polina in a high chair. Unintentional mistakes turned to easy fixes for a more enjoyable meal.

Originally written July 24, 2014.

Toddler Bullying

~ theantelopediaries

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I went to my friend’s home today. I met her through meetup. She lives a block and a half away and her son is 4 months older than Polina. We get along, and our children do too, for the most part. The biggest challenge right now is sharing toys, which is a work in progress.

What makes me most happy going there is when Polina is playing with other children her age. She doesn’t have any complexes in relation to other people. In contrast, I sense my own awkwardness. I remember embarrassing moments as a child where I didn’t fit in because I was different. I came from another country; spoke a different language; had a different culture; had, for most people, an unpronounceable last name (in an era where it wasn’t fashionable to be different); and, since I went to six schools in eight years, few long-term friends. I was painfully shy. I avoided others. At a time when my peers were discovering people of the opposite sex, I loathed attention, yet yearned to be liked.

I decided early on that I wanted to be proactive in making sure that my daughter has consistency and that I do my part in attending or creating environments where she can form friendships. It also doesn’t hurt that I also have a good time while my daughter socializes. Turns out, my friend and I had the same midwife and her husband and I are both Russian. We both buy organic, and when she talks about cultural issues with her Russian in-laws, I understand the context.

Today, however, marked another chapter in our friendship. I didn’t see what happened, but Polina suddenly started crying while we were talking. My friend thought her son hit her with a toy phone because he was holding it in his hand. (I wouldn’t be surprised if Polina reached for his phone. She likes what you have in your hand, and she doesn’t understand the concept of “mine,” yet.)

I held her as she wailed. She quieted down rather quickly, but as I looked at my friend’s son, he had an unapologetic look on his face. He is only 19 months, but he looked unkindly toward her. Polina, at 15 months, is shy, but also giving. She hands other children things and wonders why they don’t give them back to her. Sometimes they walk away with the things she gives them. She can be naïve in relation to other toddlers. It is painful for me to watch, but it’s a socialization process she has to go through so that she can have a better grasp of human nature and make wise choices.

In subsequent visits, I did see my friend’s child hit Polina, and this changed things for me. As Polina’s mother, I have to look out for her, but as I now realize, I didn’t in the right way. It was shocking to me that I repeated the ways of my mother, who often didn’t look out for me.

My friend would say the right things and hug her son to make him stop, but her son’s behavior didn’t change. The hitting continued until one day, Polina hit back. It was then that I realized the number of times that boy hit her and how stupid I was to think that by hugging her son my friend would change things.

What I learned in a toddler parenting class is that giving a hitting child attention is exactly what he/she wants. Not giving that child attention, and giving attention to the child that has been hurt, is the strategy the nurse recommended. However, in American culture, parents don’t like other parents giving them parenting advice (very strange, from my perspective), and it’s not my place to do so in her home. So, I didn’t come back. I found healthier avenues for Polina to develop her social skills, and she hasn’t hit anyone since.

We have this angelic picture of young children, but they can be mean. Polina has scratched my face a couple times and thought it was funny. I told her “no” and she started laughing. Thankfully, she has never done that to anyone else. (I guess the old adage that you hurt the ones you’re closest to is true here.)

I knew bullying would be an issue, but not this early! I love my daughter and want to do my best. Figuring out what to do with the bully in the sandbox, or hostile behavior in general, is my next biggest challenge.

Originally written November 25, 2013.