small things {plopping}

small things #66 ... plopping

My kids are suffering from a serious malady.  I don't think it's life-threatening, but it is serious.  (Of course, if we can't find an antidote it might become life-threatening because I might lose my mind!)  Perhaps your kid's suffer from the same illness.  Here are the symptoms:

~ randomly depositing toys and other small items in strange and random places.

~ unconsciously dropping gadgets and gizmos on any flat surface when encountering another more desirable gadget or gizmo.

~ leaving socks, hair rubber bands, pj's, backpacks and shoes wherever they fall when they are shed from their bodies.

~ unloading precious belongings anywhere and wondering later where they are.

Any other families out there with rampant plopping in their homes?  Please tell me we aren't the only ones!

I have stood dumbfounded as I watched my son walk into the living room with a pair of socks in his hands and walk out of the living room having successfully deposited them in the La-Z-Boy.  Plop!

I have watched wide-eyed as my oldest daughter has cartwheeled into the family room with a magazine in her hand and cartwheeled back out leaving the magazine peeking half-way out from under the couch.  Plop!

I have watched stunned as my middle girl has walked up to the dining room table and exchanged her handful of Legos for the Strawberry Shortcake dolls she previously deposited there.  Plop!

I have observed flabbergasted as my baby girl has trotted into the kitchen with an armful of baby doll paraphernalia and dropped it on the floor upon spotting her Tinkerbell cell phone under the dishwasher.  Plop!

Plop!  Plop!  Plop!

A few times a day I declare that there is an abundance of ploppage building up on the flat surfaces of our home and my kids scurry around gathering up the items they have pollinated throughout the house  - which I'm grateful for.  But I truly wish that they would get into the habit of putting things away, or as we say in our house, "where they live."  

I keep thinking that they will catch on and realize that the amount of time that they spend cleaning up is 100% avoidable if they kept their belongings tidy, but I also recognize that it's a natural part of growing up.  Maybe there is a vaccine against this childhood disease.

Until the medical community discovers a way to immunize my kids against plopping, I'll just have to use my Buy It Back Box.  But I'm going to need a bigger box.

Plopping ... an opportunity for my kids to grow and learn.  And for Mommy to pray for patience.

small things {snuggles}

small things #49 ... snuggles

Poor little Lydia was tired.  She was running on fumes.  She was grumpy.  She was a mess.

Much of the day had been spent with me asking her to do things and her saying, "no".  Nothing wears me out more than a too-tired-to-obey toddler.

With an hour until dinner time, I decided to try to distract my baby girl with some snuggle time and maybe a book.  If we could burn up some time cuddling, maybe she wouldn't burn out entirely.

I headed for the futon and invited her to join me.

"No.  I wanna play a game."  Her eyes flashed at me.

"Come here first.  I want to give you a hug."

"No.  I wanna game."  She glared.

I patted my lap and asked her again.  "Come sit with me a minute."

"No!  I.  Wanna.  Game."  She stomped one foot defiantly.

I had an image flicker in my mind of the number of times God has patiently called my name and patted His lap, inviting me to sit with Him for a bit.  And all the times, I've stomped my feet and said, "No!  I wanna do my own thing."  In the same way that God knows what is best for me, I knew my girl needed a cuddle.

"Come here, please," I said more firmly.  Less of an invitation and more of a request.

Liddy's lower lip scrunched up and she squared her shoulders.  She wasn't coming willingly.  Her determined little chin quivered and she shuffled a few steps in my direction.

I softened my words and held out my hands to her.  She hesitated and then leaned into me.  Not quite on my lap, but close.  As I put my arms around her, I felt her body tense and she mumbled something about not wanting to sit with me.

I pulled her onto my lap.   And the screaming began.

For the next several minutes, she writhed, kicked, shrieked, growled and howled.  It was loud and awful.  She yelled, "Stop it, Mommy!" repeatedly as I sat there with one hand across her lap and the other hand rubbing her back.  As I "forced" her to cuddle with me, hot tears ran down her red face and her hair clung to her damp forehead.  I rocked her and whispered to her as her tantrum rolled.  (Yes ... this is the same sweet girl who held my hand as we napped.  ...sigh...)

Her older siblings each peeked up the stairs; worried, curious eyes asked silently, "what's wrong?" I smiled and nodded at them, trying to reassure them that Lydia was okay ... or at least she would be soon.  (I had mini-flashbacks to similar "cuddle" sessions with my other babies and the venomous faces they would make at me as I held them.  Not my most favorite mommy-memories.)

Soon, sweet Liddy's protests quieted, to be replaced by deep, trembling sighs and wet sniffles.  She buried her drippy face into my shirt and let me fill with love all those ugly, angry places she had emptied with her tears.

"You are a sweet girl.  You are kind.  You are loving.  

You are smart.  You are so strong.  

I love you and Daddy loves you.  

You are funny.  You are silly.  You are special.  

You are precious to me."

As she looked up at me with her teary, bleary eyes, we talked about how Mommy was the boss and how much I love when she does the right and helpful thing.  She nodded and answered, "Yes, Mommy."

Finally there was a smile and a giggle as I stole a few more snuggles and kisses.  Then she started in with squealing and laughter as I wrestled her for, "one more zerbert ... one more tickle ... one more smooch!"  As she scampered off my lap, she was a rejuvinated little person with her love-tank topped off.

Again, I was reminded of the renewal and refreshment that comes with putting aside my "I wanna do's" and sitting a bit with Jesus.  Why do I fight Him so?  Why do I dig in my heels and put up my wall?  Why do I throw my own little tantrum when He asks me to obey?

Without fail, my times spent with God produce the same peace and quiet.  He tops off my tank as well with words of love and truth.

"You are a sweet girl.  You are kind.  You are loving.  

You are smart.  You are so strong.  

I love you.  

You are funny.  You are silly.  You are special.  

You are precious to me."

Lydia spent the rest of her day blessing me with kisses and hugs.  She told me all about how much she loves "the people" (us) and how much "the people" love her.  She smiled and giggled shyly when I stole a kiss at bedtime.  The toddle transformation was tremendous!

Snuggles ... sometimes they're sweet and sometimes they're sweaty.  But they almost always yield a special intimacy.  With my kids and with God.

small things {mvp's}

small things #47 ... mvp's

A few weeks ago, Brett came home and almost walked back out the door and drove away.  And I wouldn't have blamed him one bit.

The kids had been nutty.  The kids had been pestering.  The kids had been pushing one another's buttons.

And nutty, pestering button-pushers make for one crabby Mom.

My knee-jerk reaction had been to send them all to their rooms to clean.  But I knew that eventually they would have to come out and I would have to come up with a long-term plan for helping them to play nicely together.  Or at least to eat.

As Brett and I sat at the kitchen table following dinner, I unloaded all the garbly-gook that we had endured all day.  All the ways they had driven one another crazy and all the ways that I felt crazed.  (How Brett didn't make a break for it at that point, I have no idea!)

Essentially it all boiled down to one simple fact:  We weren't working as a team.

• Rather than helping clean up in the afternoon, I felt like I was cleaning up around them.
• Rather than being quick to jump in the van, I felt like I was herding them along from behind, reminding them of shoes, snacks and potty breaks.
• Rather than sitting and enjoying lunch together, I felt like I was referring a wrestling match with grabbing hands, bossy elbows and boisterous voices.
• Rather than chipping in with chores, I felt like I had to plead and beg for help around the house ... only to listen to sighing and grumbling and stomping feet.

I felt like I was on the losing team.  An awful feeling for certain!

While part of me wanted to discipline the kids for their unsportsmanlike conduct, I felt God leading in another way.  A better way.

I know I don't really like to have the whistle blown when I make a mistake or to have a big finger pointed at me with the pronouncement, "Foul!  Five minutes for fighting!"  More often than not, I already know when I've messed up.  What I truly appreciate and what motivates me more is to hear when I've done well ... atta-girl's and way-to-go's and good-job's inspire me to work harder and do better.

And the same goes for my kids.

God's prompting to praise my kids' good behavior as they practice good sportsmanship led us to celebrate a daily MVP - and we've experienced an incredible change in the attitudes in our house!

My job is to simply be on the look-out for the kid who is most on the ball, most motivated to help, most quick to obey ... the most valuable player of the day.

The kids' job is to be on their toes, work on their teamwork and play by our house rules.

At dinner I share the reasons why I chose that particular kid, write their name on the MVP chalk board and we celebrate with high-fives all around!  On more than one occasion it was such a tough decision that we got to celebrate all the kids ... that's a fantastic change-up.  

A true Cinderella-team transformation!

MVP ... most valuable player and the most validating plan for rebuilding our team!

Snapshots of the Heart ~ Self-Discipline

Last week I shared about the growing desire of my kids to be the bosses of this house ... and the plan I have in place to cure them of their bossy pants-itis.

Today is about my own problem with bossing.

Last week during my Bible study, I experienced a bit of an epiphany.  And it didn't even hurt.  The topic was concerning our tendency to be control freaks.  As a recovering C.F., I thought that I had this all under control (ba dump bump!), only to discover that I didn't.

I too have the propensity to pull on my bossy pants in the morning and go about my day making sure everybody (mainly my kids) are playing by my rules.  This could also be called "nagging" but that is such an unfortunate word.  Let's call it "gentle guiding".  Or "repetitive reminding".  Or, we could just call it as it truly is ... "bossing".

When Aaron doesn't get off the iPod within 2.4 seconds of my request for him to do so, I ask again.  And then again until he finally switches of.  Bossy.

When Norah fails to get all her clothes in the laundry at the end of the day, I point it out to her.  And sometimes without using my magic words.  Bossy.

When Ashley gets caught up in talking to Baby S and doesn't put her coloring books and markers away, I reminder her.  And then remind her again a bit more gruffly.  Bossy.

When Lydia is slow in getting her shoes and coat on, I say, "Chop, chop, hop to it!" and give her my grumpiest look.  Bossy.

There is a fine line between training and bossing and I think these past several weeks I've been tip-toeing across to the dark side.  Rather than nagging, uh, that is, repetitively reminding my kids to do what is asked of them, it would be more effective for me to say it once and then allow natural consequences to follow.

Let's see how that would be played out in the above scenarios:

Instead of bossing Aaron regarding his need to get off the iPod, I could ask him to shut it down and then begin keeping track of the amount of time that he continues to care for his Tap Zoo creatures.  This time would be subtracted from the next time he asks for screen time.  "Sure ... you can do some Wii.  I would say you have 45 minutes, but since you stayed on the iPod for an extra 15 minutes this morning, you can play for 30 minutes."  Let the groaning begin.  And the learning.

Instead of bossing Norah to pick up her clothes, I could ask her once and then whatever is left out after she heads to bed would go in the Bummer Bin to be earned back with chores later on.  "Where's your purple leotard?  Hmmm ... have you checked the Bummer Bin?  I think it was laying on the bathroom floor last night.  Sorry."  Let the moaning begin.  And the learning.

Instead of bossing Ashley when she forgets to clean up the kitchen table, I could remind her once and then when I'm setting the table, all the markers, stickers and books can be deposited in the Bummer Bin.  "Oh ... your coloring book?  I think it's in the Bummer Bin.  You can spot clean the floor for me if you'd like to have it back."  Let the grumbling begin.  And, you got it, the learning.

Instead of bossing Lydia to get her shoes and coat on, I can inform her that we are leaving and then head to the van.  I might add something like, "When you get your parts together and get buckled up, I'd love to give you a little treat."  When she fails to be quick and snappy, she will be terribly disappointed that she didn't get her little goodie.  "Sorry, Sweetie.  I hope you can do better next time."  Let the wailing begin.  And the, yes indeed, the learning.

Lots of lessons learned for the kids and me.  They are learning to be the bosses of themselves and the importance of responsibility.  I'm learning to let go of my kids and allow them to accept responsibility for themselves ... and spending my energy on enjoying my kids instead of bossing them.

Is this easy?  No. Way.  This requires huge amounts of self-discipline from me.  Keeping my mouth shut and allowing my kids to learn from experience.  Keeping my attitude positive and not turning a teachable moment into a I-told-you-so moment.  Keeping my eyes focused on the goal ... growing up responsible and respectful kids.

It's a doozy, for sure!

"Father, I pray that my children {and I} 

may acquire a disciplined and prudent life, 

doing what is right and just and fair."  

Proverbs 1:3

Snapshots of the Heart ~ Responsibility

We seem to be experiencing a bit of a Bossy Pants Invasion here in our home.

At any given moment of the day, you can hear a chorus of, "You should's", "You better's" or "You have to's" as my children attempt to boss each other.  It would appear that each of my kiddos are determined to be in charge of everybody and everything ... except for their own bodies and their own things.

Here are a few examples ... I'm sure they will be familiar to you:

Ashley standing with her hands on her hips reprimanding Aaron for using too much milk for his cereal ... mainly because she is overly worried that he might possibly use the last of the 3/4 gallon of milk.  Oh my head.

Or Norah correcting Lydia's use of the gymnastic mat ... but only because she wants to use the mat and her not-quite-cartwheeling sissy isn't moving off to the side quickly enough.  It makes my ears hurt.

Or Aaron informing Ashley that she needs to get her shoes on and go to the van, but he's lounging on the ottoman with his newest Bionicle in his hands and nary a shoe to be found on his foot.  My right eye starts twitching.

Or Lydia declaring with all her might that Ashley's choice to sit in her chosen spot on the couch is, "That not awesome!"  That passionate proclamation is accompanied by a thump on Ashley's back with a giant Curious George.  My shoulders tense up.

Because of this propensity to of my kids to pull on their bossy pants in the morning, we have a new saying in our home.

"Who are you the boss of?"

The correct answer, of course, is "Me."

As you can imagine we've been hearing this new chorus a lot.  That's what happens when you start a new training regimen with kids ... you have to be prepared to see it through until they get it.  Even if you flirt with a little insanity from the broken record effects of repeating the same phrase over and over and over ... and over and over again.

This gentle reminder of self-control is coupled with a few encouraging words to please allow Mommy to boss that other little person.  In severe cases of bossy pants-itis, I have also been known to send the bossy one off to do a job from The Great Learning Box.

"It would appear that you have a lot of energy and time right now.  Let's put that to some good use.  It looks like you get to wipe down the bannisters.  Thanks!"


Then I can address the recipient of the bossiness ...

"Why do you think So-and-so felt the need to boss you?  Are you doing something that needs correcting?  What can you do to be responsible for yourself?"

And then perhaps there is a little activity (read: chore) that they can do while they think about their own actions.  Which results in some other part of my house getting clean as well!  Bonus!

The hope, of course, is that each of these little people will be responsible for their own sweet little selves and eliminate the need for anyone else to boss them, er ... remind them of what is expected of them.

We all struggle with issues of self-control and a persistent desire to control those around us.  And when I say "we" I, of course, mean "me".

But that's an entire post for another day!

"Grant that my children may learn responsibility, 

for each one should care his own load."  

Galatians 6:5

Right? Right.

It's just a sticker, right?

Just a piece of paper with an adhesive backing that allows said picture to be stuck to nearly any surface.  With the greatest of ease, a piece of craft paper, a kitchen table or your van's back seat can be decorated with Dora the Explorer, Disney princesses, sports paraphernalia, glittery jewels, scratch-n-sniff circles and jungle animals!

But is it really just a sticker?

This week, we have had the joy of having an extra little buddy around during the day.  For a few hours a day, Ashley has enjoyed having a little person with whom to play.  Someone her size.  And her speed.

At first, I was a little anxious about having an extra friend - increasing our day-time movers and shakers to five.  How would she mesh with our kids and our routine?  How would our kids do with having to share Mom for a bit?  How would we keep things fun and happy?

Answer?

Stickers!

My eldest daughter decorated five pieces of computer paper with each child's name and a few "starter" stickers.  After taping them to the pantry door, we talked about how we could add more bling and glitter to our pages.  Here's what we came up with ...

First time obedience,
Putting shoes where they live,
Washing hands before and after meals,
Using your manners,
Sharing toys well,
Saying sorry, and
Taking turns

... all earned stickers.  Pretty simple really, but where the kids saw fun and decorations, I saw sanity and harmony.  It's actually quite amazing how quickly even our little guest picked up on the perks of being "quick and snappy" in obedience ... especially if she got to choose a, "birthday cupcake sticker" to add to her page.  In fact, today when she arrived, she plopped her shoes and socks next to the front door (where the live) and then ran to me excitedly, "Mrs Rogan ... can I have a sticker?!"

You bet!

At the end of the week, she'll get to take home her work of art ... and a little preschool pride in a job well done here at the Kellum house.

A big rainbow balloon stuck to an 8 1/2 x 11 piece of white paper ...

It's just a sticker?  Right ...

__________________________________

Prompt #4 ~ Write a post that begins and ends with the same sentence.   Or at least the same words. :)

What If ...

Growing up, we read a lot of Shel Silverstein.  And honestly, I wasn't quite sure about that guy.  His drawings looked like something I could have done - a little bit childlike.  His poems were pure silliness (sometimes mixed with a little bit of creepiness) - perfect goofball humor for elementary-aged kids.  And his picture on the book jacket confirmed to me that he was a just a little bit different - what was with the furry beard and bald head?

But I was hooked on his words and can still remember some of my favorites ...

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too

"Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too, 

Went for a ride in a flying shoe ..."

The Beard

"My beard grows to my toes, 

I never wears no clothes, 

I wraps my hair, 

Around my bare, 

And down the road I goes."

The Hat

"Teddy said it was a hat, 

So I put it on. 

Now Dad is saying, "Where the heck's

the toilet plunger gone?"

Reading back through his books with my kids ...

I'm still not sure about that guy!  Still childlike, silly, creepy and goofy, but now I see how he appealed to the kids and the adults alike and managed to entertain us all and even educate us a little.  And give us all a good chuckle/shudder/snort!

One poem in particular, has truly stuck with me and I find myself repeating it back to myself periodically.

Whatif

By Shel Silverstein

Last night, while I lay thinking here,

some Whatifs crawled inside my ear

and pranced and partied all night long

and sang their same old Whatif song:

Whatif I'm dumb in school?

Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?

Whatif I get beat up?

Whatif there's poison in my cup?

Whatif I start to cry?

Whatif I get sick and die?

Whatif I flunk that test?

Whatif green hair grows on my chest?

Whatif nobody likes me?

Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?

Whatif I don't grow taller?

Whatif my head starts getting smaller?

Whatif the fish won't bite?

Whatif the wind tears up my kite?

Whatif they start a war?

Whatif my parents get divorced?

Whatif the bus is late?

Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?

Whatif I tear my pants?

Whatif I never learn to dance?

Everything seems well, and then

the nighttime Whatifs strike again!

Having a nervous nelly-belly, I remember a lot of those same Whatifs visiting me at night when I was growing up!


Lately, however, my Whatifs have taken on a different look.  A bit of a "What If Mommy Didn't" look.


I don't know about you other parents, but doesn't it seem like you spend an inordinate amount of time picking up, straightening up, and putting back around your house?  And more often than not, it's not your stuff?!?


On any given day, I have to wonder ...

• What if I didn't pick the shoes off the floor that almost just barely made it into the shoe bin?
• What if I didn't wipe the ginormous crumbs off the table that somehow fell off someone's plate?
• What if I didn't carry upstairs the 2 1/2 pairs of socks that someone left on the bottom step?
• What if I didn't scoop up the random pile of Legos from the dining room floor before vacuuming?
• What if I didn't hang up the sweatshirts that repeatedly jump off their hooks?
• What if I didn't wipe the crunchies off the kitchen bench ... the ones nobody else seems to mind sitting on?
• What if I didn't put the stool back where it belongs, instead of in the middle of the hall?
• What if I didn't wipe the nasty glob of toothpaste off the countertop ... right next to the gooey smear of hand soap?
• What if I didn't put the gallon of milk back in the fridge?
• What if I didn't clear the half dozen board books off the couch and from behind the pillows?
• What if I didn't hang up the sodden towel on the very available bathroom hook?
• What if I didn't gather into the trash all the semi-used Kleenex from someone's bed?
• What if I didn't pick up the baseball cap and glove and ball and bag from the dining room?
• What if I didn't re-straighten the pillows and blankets haphazardly strewn across the couch?
• What if I didn't hang up the pj's and toss the dirty undies in the hamper?
• What if I didn't re-shelve the library books that have escaped the bookshelf?

What if?  What if?  What if?


I think it's very likely that the kitchen would be grungy, the floor would be littered and the general cleanliness of our house would give me a twitch.  


But ... maybe, just maybe, I'm missing out on some very teachable moments with my kids.  I know that I don't give them enough credit for what they are able to do and I know that sometimes I don't give them enough opportunities to prove they can be responsible.  Too often I think that it's just easier for me to pick up the socks, toys, towels and books rather than setting that responsibility back on their little, but able shoulders.  In reality, it's a disservice to them for me to continue to clean up after them.


So ... here and now (raising my right hand) I am committing to handling this "What If?" problem a little differently.  Instead of picking up the Barbie or StarWars action figure and putting it away, I going to put it in my "Buy Back Bin".  Instead of re-hanging the towels or sweatshirts, I'll put them in my "Buy Back Bin".  Instead of saving the Legos from the vacuum and putting them away, I'll put them in my ... say it with me ... "Buy Back Bin".  Instead of tidying up the couch, throwing away the Kleenex or returning the milk to the fridge, I'll notify the guilty party and they can do it, plus a job from the "Great Learning Box".  There's the potential for this to be a little more work for me, but I have to remember that it's an investment in me not spending the rest of my life picking up after my kids!  Especially since they are all 100% capable of doing that job themselves.


With the number of items that I step over on a daily basis, I think I'm going to need a bigger "Buy Back Bin" and a few more chores in the "Great Learning Box"!  But, I think I'll also have a few more minutes in my day, a few less grumbles in my mind and heart, children learning the benefits of responsibility ... and a really clean house!


Want to join me in the "Wipe Out the What Ifs" crusade?  It promises to be rather liberating!


_____________________________________


I wrote this post on Saturday (in the throes of a "put your stuff away" mommy-tantrum!).  We had a brief pow-wow while sitting around the breakfast table and put the plan into immediate effect.  Currently the "Buy Back Bin" contains two shoes (that don't match), a pair of flip flops, some random toys, a light saber and someone's slightly damp bathroom towel.  But, I also have three kids who are significantly more aware of their own things (out of fear of losing them, no doubt) and a tidy-er home.  Now if we can just keep it up!

House Rules

Living with four kids under our roof is a bouncy, boisterous time.  There is a lot of haphazard running, thumping down stairs, happy squeals, unnecessary screams and bodies thudding on the floor.  And with our recent cold streak coinciding with Christmas Break ... I was so grateful for our large-ish house.  I love that I can send my galloping horde to another level of our home and enjoy some "sorta" peace and quiet.  In the midst of this cabin-fever, there has been a lot of wrestling, football re-enactments and gymnastic practice .... thump, thud, wham!

A few weeks ago, the kids were upstairs after dinner and we could hear from the kitchen what appeared to be a herd of water buffalo traversing the bedrooms.  It was accompanied with happy sounds, so we let them keep at it.  A few minutes into the apparent battle, Norah came downstairs for pen and paper.

"We need to post some rules."

"Okey-dokey.  Is everyone having fun?"

"Yep."

Here are the rules that kept everyone having fun ... and kept me laughing for a spell:

As you can tell, the offenses are listed on the left-side of the page, while the consequences are listed on the right-side.  Apparently, if you are caught breaking any of these rules, you have to sit out the designated number of minutes.

My personal favorites would have to be the Door Slam and Wall Slam rules ... I'm not sure if that refers to slamming yourself or someone else into the door or wall, but either way, you miss out on the action for 10-15 minutes.  I also had to laugh at Arm and Legs Backward ... ouch!  I'm glad that carries the stiff penalty of 15 minutes on the bench.  I'm unsure of the weapons they used, but if you use your weapon wrong, you have to sit out for 10 minutes.  Also, don't play with this bunch unless you intend to have fun, or you have to watch them have fun for 10 minutes before getting a second chance!

The biggest consequence I see in these rules is that with as quickly as our kids shift gears, if you are out for 15 minutes for Furniture is Bad Use, by the time you get to come back in, they might have moved onto building Legos ... bummer.

As funny as these rules are, they made me kinda happy.  I loved the initiative of the kids to make sure that the fun they were having upstairs fit within our own family expectations.  Without any help from Mom and Dad, they identified that teasing, bad sportsmanship and bad words would be inappropriate.  They also decided together that spanking and any contact with their faces was too rough.  They hung these pages on the bedroom wall so everyone would be aware and accountable.  Such good kids!

This was a perfect reminder for me of the importance of rules and boundaries in our home.  Even though the kids sometimes strain against the rules we have, I know that in reality they are simply testing the limits ... checking to see if we will uphold the rules ... checking to see if they are safe and secure.  These two pieces of paper were proof to me that my kids appreciate knowing what to expect and appreciate knowing that those around them have to play by the same rules.

I guess they were also giving us permission to keep reinforcing our house rules:

• Heads on pillows and voices quiet at bedtime,
• Asking be to be excused from the table,
• Taking care of belongings,
• First-time obedience,
• Loving and respectful words,
• Answering with a "Yes, Mom" or "Yes, Dad" when spoken to,
• Using manners,
• Cleaning up before moving on to the next activity,
• Helping when asked,
• Just to name a few ...

While the consequences vary for breaking our house rules, they all have a sting involved:

• Time in your room to "pull your parts together",
• A job from the "Great Learning Box",
• Serving the offended person (in a way they choose),
• Practicing whatever you did wrong, the right way (as many times as you are old),
• And if all else fails, a swat.

If you choose to break a rule, you will have to endure the bummer result ... and that might mean missing out on the fun!

And as you can tell, this house is full of fun! :)

What's Behind Door #3?

Maybe you are familiar with a game show from the 60's and 70's called "Let's Make a Deal".  The premise of the show was to come away with something more valuable than what you came with.  The contestants would "make a deal" with the hopes of trading up in value whatever they currently had.  Perhaps one of their deals would land them a car ... or perhaps they would end up with a hard-boiled egg.  At the end of the game, the contestants had the possibility to gamble away their current prize by trading it for an item behind Door #1, Door #2 or Door #3.  The last big chance to make it big!

We have a little girl living in our house that would have loved to be on that show.  Sweet, little Ashley.  She is always vying for something a little better, a little more her style and a little more like what she has in mind.  Especially when it comes to obedience.  And especially when obedience doesn't quite fit her plan.

We have a practice here in our home that we learned from the book Parenting with Love and Logic by Foster Cline and Jim Fay.  It has certainly worked with the older two kids, but has been a bit of a stumper for our third.  When we need one of the kids to do something (something that they are not particularly keen on) we give them two options on how to complete the task.  For example, if they need to have a coat, they may wear it or carry it.  If they have a chore to do, they may do it now or in 5 minutes.  If they need to get cleaned up, they may take a bath or a shower.  If they need to get dressed, they can pick out their clothes or Mommy can.  If they need to go to their room because they are pitching a fit, they can either walk there or be carried.

Pretty simple.  Two options that they can accomplish.  Two options we can accept as obedience.

Inevitably, however, Ashley requests whatever is behind Door #3.  If she needs to have a coat, she either opts not to bring one (with a lengthy discussion about how warm she is and how sun-shiny it appears outside) or gets someone else to get it for her.  If she has a job to do, she will attempt to talk her way out of the job by arguing that everybody else in the house is more able to accomplish it or that somebody else is responsible for the mess.  If she needs to be bathed, she requests a bath tomorrow or a shower with Norah.  If she needs to get dressed, she doesn't want anyone to pick the clothes out.  I think you get the picture.

She is famous in our house for always trying for option #3 ... and driving Brett and I crazy in the process.  As I presented her with a reasonable option the other day (peanut butter & jelly sandwich or meat & cheese sandwich) she requested mac-n-cheese.  Here's how the rest of the conversation went:

"Sorry ... PB&J or meat & cheese?"

"I said, mac-n-cheese."

"We don't have any mac-n-cheese.  PB&J or meat & cheese?"

"I really want mac-n-cheese."

"I'm sorry ... PB&J or meat & cheese?"

"Can I have a bowl of cereal?"

"Ummm ... no.  PB&J or meat & cheese?"

(Now, before you think that maybe I'm being unreasonable and she doesn't like PB&J or meat & cheese, don't worry.  I've also had this conversation with the options being mac-n-cheese and PB&J and mac-n-cheese and meat & cheese.  And mac-n-cheese and cereal.  She just really likes Door #3.)


Now come the water works ... "I really want mac-n-cheese!"

"We. Don't. Have. Any. Mac-n-cheese.  Would you like PB&J or meat & cheese?"

sniff, sniff ... "I guess I'll have meat & cheese ..." sniff ...  "What can I have to drink?"

"Well ... we have milk or water."

"Can I have juice?"

sigh ... "Nope ... we have milk or water."

And so it goes ...

She just has a idea in her head of how she would really like her life to go and she is very persistent in her quest to see that come to fruition.  The bummer for her is that we are rather persistent, too.  Notice that I didn't change my broken-record response to her many protests regarding lunch options.  We have found that if we have two viable options for our kids, then we work hard to stick by them and let the little people come to terms with the choices we offer.  As long as the two options are things that they can live with and the results are something Dad & Mom can live with, it works.

For example, if Ashley is having trouble getting dressed in the morning, I wouldn't give her the options of:  A) Not wearing clothes, or B) Wearing clothes.  I'm not willing to let her run around nakie all day ... even if she's super cute!  I'm also not going to give her options she can't cope with.  For example:  A) the pants she doesn't like, or B) the skirt that is scratchy.  The choices I offer her need to be acceptable to both parties.  Then we let the little missy wrestle through the actual choosing.

I have found that there are two interesting results of this type of "You Choose" parenting.  For one, this is a rather un-emotional interaction on my part.  I give my kiddos the two choices and let them work it out.  My job is to stay strong and keep offering the same two options, but I typically don't get emotionally involved or emotionally charged in the battle.  Sometimes the decision process goes on a long time.  A long time.  Much longer than I can believe.  And sometimes I have to go in the other room because the battle makes my head hurt.  But in the end, the little person makes his or her own choice and I have been simply the choice-giver not the choice-forcer.

And that is the second interesting aspect of this parenting technique.  When the little person makes their own choice, they are proud of themselves.  We have watched our kids (finally) make their choice and come out of the experience a little taller.  Sweet Ashley will be so very, very mad at the options she has been given to brush her hair or let Mommy do it ... crying, crazy mad.  But when she comes down with her hair brushed out nicely, she's also smiling and has that "I did it myself" look on her face.  Or perhaps she comes downstairs and asks me to brush her hair ... and she's still smiley and wants to hug and make-up.   There is no "I'm Mom and I won" or "I'm the kid and I won".  It's simply a lesson in making a wise choice with the options offered.

This is another opportunity for us to be training up our kids to be adults, because in reality how many choices do we really have as big people?  We usually have two options in the choices we make ... eat in or eat out?  watch TV or read a book?  go to bed now or after this show?  buy the purse or save my money?  We'd hate for the kids to be disillusioned later in life! :)

Now just so you are sure ... we did not come up with this parenting technique ourselves, but we sure like the results!  For more creative parenting ideas to nip some of these typical childhood-troubles in the bud, check out the Love & Logic Parent Resources.  There are literally pages and pages of helpful tools to help your little people grow from a "Me Do It My Way" kid to ... well ... anything more pleasant! :)  Also, if you go to their home page and click on "Parents" and "Help Me Find a Solution" you can find a tid-bit of help for everything from helping your kid to do their chores to sibling rivalry.

Just be prepared that the ideas might seem a bit strange.  This technique to parenting definitely encourages you to think outside the box of how we naturally respond.

I guess it's kind of like choosing Door #3.  Bargaining up for something better!