Sometimes, you have to pay the consequences.
I'm lucky because Dylan does not a bad kid and genuinely likes to do the right thing. But even for the best kid, it's not possible to grow up doing all the right things, all the time. There's the desire to rebel, mistakes made, or just bad decisions.
Sometimes, one or all of those involves lying.
Lying is big to me. I'm not talking about "Gee, your hair looks nice!" or "I'm sorry, we have plans." kind of lies. To me, that kind of lying really is acceptable. Hurting someone can be the bigger crime.
But straight on answering a question with an untruth is completely unacceptable in my book.
Again, I'm lucky. Dylan is an honest kid. So honest, he'd be the kind to ask "What did you do to your hair?" with a horrified expression on his face.
But every kid lies sooner or later about something.
He has had two previous occasions where he did not tell the truth to a direct question. I honestly cannot remember the exact situations. For the first, he was let off with a strong warning and it was a long time before we faced it again. The next time, there was a punishment. I think it was missing TV.
Not long ago, we had Lying Crime #3.
Dylan had been "cooking" that afternoon. That is, he had pulled out all kinds of pots and pans from the kitchen, and was mixing "ingredients" together. The ingredients consisted of some blueberries we had picked at a farm and a couple of bananas we had just gotten at the store. I warned him that I didn't want food wasted and that whatever he made, he had to consume.
I don't think he used many berries (he's not a big blueberry fan) but he cut up two bananas into thick slices. I warned him again that he had to eat whatever he had used and he assured me he would.
Later, the cut bananas and the various kitchen implements were strewn all over the kitchen, and I told him he had to clean everything up and eat the bananas. He whined at first that he needed help to clean up, but I reminded him that he was able to get everything out without any help.
A little later, the kitchen was more or less back to normal and the bananas were nowhere in sight. I asked if he had eaten them. "Yes," he said loudly.
Fatal error.
When I went to throw something away, there in the garbage can were the banana slices. I was furious.
I asked him to step away from the TV and come talk to me. I don't think he even remembered the lie and came along willingly. But once I started talking, he remembered all too well and knew he was in trouble. He tried to make it no big deal, and tried to say he "didn't know," but I had reminded him too well and too often and, worse, had had loudly answered me in the affirmative when I had asked him directly. There was no escaping.
I made the mistake of saying we were going to discuss punishments. He took that to mean that he could decide what his punishment would be. But as the judge and jury, I declared he would lose two days of TV. I think if I said I was going to cut off his arm in punishment, he would not have yelled as loudly.
He was devastated, especially because the punishment was starting immediately. Keep in mind, he was 15 minutes from bedtime, so that was not a big loss. He cried and fussed and generally made the evening difficult for a while. Then calmed down. I thought we were past it.
Nope. Next morning he was at it again, only with more energy from a good night's sleep. He wanted to decide the punishment. He wanted it to be no Cartoon Network. Keep in mind, he only has limited approval to watch a couple of carefully selected Cartoon Network shows since most of their programming is aimed at teenagers and the ads are ridiculous and non-stop. I held firm - No TV.
There was much angst and gnashing of teeth. Even threats. I was told I was the worst mother. The meanest. He also hated his life. And wondered why he had to be this way. He insisted he would not go to camp. It was very dramatic and, worse, it was making me very late for work.
Much to my chagrin, I finally gave him a shorter sentence. One day of TV loss, WITH the stipulation that he understand that parents are allowed to make punishments at their discretion in any and all future proceedings. He agreed...but we'll see when it happens.
Of course, I'm hopeful that it won't, but I know that's not possible. He's a kid. He's especially a kid with some issues, and self control is one of them. I don't like being the jailer, yet I'm proud because I never yelled throughout all of it. I did give in a little, but only to clear the slate and move on. I want him to sense fairness and I don't want to stand on something if it's going to make all of our lives miserable. And obviously, even one day of lost TV seemed to be excessive. (Amazing in that he is not allowed a lot of TV to begin with.)
It's not always easy being the judge, jury, and jailer.
Showing posts with label behavior. Show all posts
Showing posts with label behavior. Show all posts
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
A Boy at Work
Today was the kind of day that working parents everywhere experience eventually, at least parents who toil in understanding work places.
Dylan came to work with me today.
For some reason, in New Orleans, camps don't generally begin until a week after school gets out. To make matters worse, camps end about a week before school begins again.
It makes me wish I had some entrepreneurial funds that I could invest in holding a camp for just those two weeks. I'd make a mint...or at least enough to pay for the summer's worth of camp.
Even though bringing kids in when you're stuck without childcare is acceptable, there's a definite tension involved. After all, when you're supposed to be focused on work, you're simultaneously trying to entertain a child. No small task, especially when that child has a limited attention span and likes to ask questions non-stop.
Thank God for DVDs!
I really can't complain. Although he sometimes has trouble controlling his impulses, he is usually very well behaved in my office, and that was the case today. The hard part will be the next two days. He will be with me again on both of those days and it gets progressively harder to keep him entertained. What's novel on Day One can get boring by Day Three.
I already feel the push:pull between work and home, and days like this only accentuate it. While on the one hand, I like showing him the positive side of being productive and having a career, it's hard not to long for more relaxed, unstructured time at home with him, on the other.
If you have to bring your child to work, here are some items that can make it easier
Dylan came to work with me today.
For some reason, in New Orleans, camps don't generally begin until a week after school gets out. To make matters worse, camps end about a week before school begins again.
It makes me wish I had some entrepreneurial funds that I could invest in holding a camp for just those two weeks. I'd make a mint...or at least enough to pay for the summer's worth of camp.
Even though bringing kids in when you're stuck without childcare is acceptable, there's a definite tension involved. After all, when you're supposed to be focused on work, you're simultaneously trying to entertain a child. No small task, especially when that child has a limited attention span and likes to ask questions non-stop.
Thank God for DVDs!
I really can't complain. Although he sometimes has trouble controlling his impulses, he is usually very well behaved in my office, and that was the case today. The hard part will be the next two days. He will be with me again on both of those days and it gets progressively harder to keep him entertained. What's novel on Day One can get boring by Day Three.
I already feel the push:pull between work and home, and days like this only accentuate it. While on the one hand, I like showing him the positive side of being productive and having a career, it's hard not to long for more relaxed, unstructured time at home with him, on the other.
If you have to bring your child to work, here are some items that can make it easier
- A laptop with Internet connection;
- Snacks;
- Access to movies or television (even better if it's on the laptop);
- Transportable toys. Although Dylan is still very interested in playing with toys, it's actually getting harder to find appropriate toys that will travel well;
- Reading material. This is a good idea for many; but unfortunately not very useful with Dylan;
- Understanding and - even better - interesting and interested coworkers;
- Someplace else to go. Maybe a restaurant for lunchtime (we'll do that tomorrow), an atrium (we are out of luck), or someplace interesting like a plant (nope).
- Ample patience. If your child gets bored, it's not his or her fault (after all, you get bored sometimes, too, but at least you get paid for it).
Friday, May 20, 2011
Dealing with Evening Meltdowns
The evening meltdown. A rotten way to end the day for everyone involved. We’ve had, uh, some experience with these situations, so I’m sharing ideas that have worked for us
1. Stay extremely calm.
Harder to do than it is to say, and the worst part is that might not be a quick fix. Even if I stay as cool as a cucumber, Dylan often gets ramped up initially, I guess because he isn’t getting the strong reaction he was looking for. But over time, it’s difficult for him to keep up his anger and defiance in the face of unrelenting, monotonous calm. Just react simply to the situation in front of you and don’t talk about anything that happened earlier or project about later. Be dispassionate. No reaction beyond what’s necessary.
2. Be very loving.
2. Be very loving.
Much like being calm, it’s hard to stay mad when someone is only showing love. And also like being calm, there’s often an initial negative reaction. But most of the time, it’s what he really wants. I’ll ask him if he wants a hug or wants to sit in my lap, and usually he will. He might still try to argue, but it’s easier to calm him down and even make him laugh.
3. Give your child a "win."
3. Give your child a "win."
It does not have to be what you are arguing over. Dylan has been adamant lately about going for fast food after school and I have been equally adamant about not doing it. On one occasion recently, by letting him sit in the car and pretend to drive, he felt like he was getting something he wanted. It wasn’t fast food, but it was an alternative and moved him past the defiance and argument.
4. Give a little protein.
4. Give a little protein.
ADHD meds are notorious for affecting appetite. In Dylan’s case, even before he started the meds, he often skipped lunch in order to play more (lunch and recess are combined at his school). Whatever the cause, I think that not enough food and low blood sugar have a lot to do with his evening melt downs. So I've started giving him cheese and crackers or something else with a shot of protein in it as soon as he gets home. It generally helps to even out his mood pretty quickly.
5. Set firm rules on TV and screen time.
5. Set firm rules on TV and screen time.
TV and video/computer games can kick off some meltdowns. If screen rules are uneven or nonexistent, it’s hard to tell your child it’s time to turn it off if they could do it yesterday. For us, the rule is no afternoon/evening TV during the week, and exceptions are rare. You don’t need to be as strict, just set a rule and stick to it, no matter what. Remember that there are plenty of other things that kids can do with themselves. In fact, with summer coming up, I’m planning to work up a list of alternative activities with Dylan, then put them in jar so that when he’s “bored” he can pull one out.
It’s important to remember that this, too, shall pass. As awful as the meltdowns can be, they will end eventually. By minimizing the impact you will hopefully make them end more quickly, but more importantly, you will minimize the emotional fall out for both you and your child.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
No basis for comparison
I wonder all the time what other kids are like.
I'm an only child, and while I had friends, I didn't experience what other kids in a family are like. I only knew me. I was advanced, at least academically. Possibly a bit behind socially, but I seem to have caught up in that area just fine.
I also had no first cousins. Neither my uncle nor my aunt ever had kids. My mother's cousins had kids, but our families weren't very close, so I didn't have that close family relationship with them.
As an adult, since I was an only child, I could never become an aunt within my own family. And my husband's only sister never had children.
I don't even have really close friends, or at least none that live nearby, to see their kids up close on a regular basis.
And my mom was self-admittedly not maternal. I don't feel as though I can get any parenting insight from her.
So sometimes, it's hard to know what is ADHD and what is normal kid behavior. And how to respond.
Is it normal for an 8-year-old/nearly 9-year-old to want someone to sleep with him? (And how do you break that?)
Do kids get so doggedly set on something, like walking daddy to his car when the child is already in bed? (And how do you respond when you can't convince him otherwise?)
What about a sudden obsession with getting a flute - but not getting lessons or playing it in the band? (How do you convince him that you don't buy a real instrument that you don't plan to learn how to play?)
What are their sentences in writing homework like? (And how can you help guide them, especially when they want help but don't want to hear anything you have to say?)
Do they refuse what you are serving for dinner, even something they like, and only eat a croissant? (I know enough that you don't make this a big deal on a given night. But what about if it becomes a pattern?)
Do they get angry when you tell them something they know, even if it bears repeating?
How do you figure all this out without role models or examples?
I'm an only child, and while I had friends, I didn't experience what other kids in a family are like. I only knew me. I was advanced, at least academically. Possibly a bit behind socially, but I seem to have caught up in that area just fine.
I also had no first cousins. Neither my uncle nor my aunt ever had kids. My mother's cousins had kids, but our families weren't very close, so I didn't have that close family relationship with them.
As an adult, since I was an only child, I could never become an aunt within my own family. And my husband's only sister never had children.
I don't even have really close friends, or at least none that live nearby, to see their kids up close on a regular basis.
And my mom was self-admittedly not maternal. I don't feel as though I can get any parenting insight from her.
So sometimes, it's hard to know what is ADHD and what is normal kid behavior. And how to respond.
Is it normal for an 8-year-old/nearly 9-year-old to want someone to sleep with him? (And how do you break that?)
Do kids get so doggedly set on something, like walking daddy to his car when the child is already in bed? (And how do you respond when you can't convince him otherwise?)
What about a sudden obsession with getting a flute - but not getting lessons or playing it in the band? (How do you convince him that you don't buy a real instrument that you don't plan to learn how to play?)
What are their sentences in writing homework like? (And how can you help guide them, especially when they want help but don't want to hear anything you have to say?)
Do they refuse what you are serving for dinner, even something they like, and only eat a croissant? (I know enough that you don't make this a big deal on a given night. But what about if it becomes a pattern?)
Do they get angry when you tell them something they know, even if it bears repeating?
How do you figure all this out without role models or examples?
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Diagnosis is just the beginning
I suspect that for most parents, the diagnosis of ADHD is really more of a confirmation. An external source validating what's been suspected for some time.
Mixed in with that validation is maybe even a little relief. Finally, something to call it. Finally, something can be done.
That something can be medication, or behavioral therapy, or a mix of both. Or an alternative therapy.
However, that's not the end of the story, even though sometimes there is a desire to make that be the case. But naming the beast does not tame it. And with ADHD, neither medications, nor therapy, nor the alternatives cure the condition.
For me, the diagnosis set me up for an education process that I have only just begun. I've already said that my new hobby is learning about ADHD. Based on the number of blogs and message boards I've been on, this is a common mom reaction.
Not so much, it would seem, for dads.
Or at least Dylan's dad.
On more than one occasion, Randy has stared at his son in disbelief over an explosive reaction, a long drawn-out homework session, or an over-exuberant response that leads to some accident. As the mom who is constantly learning about the myriad ways that ADHD presents, I, in turn, stare at Randy in disbelief. How can you be truly surprised by Dylan's actions knowing that the neurons in his brain don't fire quite the way they should?
Such was the case last night.
New Year's Eve. Together with Christmas and Valentine's Day, New Year's Eve is a date imbued with all manner of expectations. Being parents changes those expectations, but it doesn't seem to diminish the feeling that something big is supposed to happen.
Of course, when you add in an easily distracted and very impulsive child along with disregard for his usual schedule, and you have a pretty good chance that something big will happen. It just won't necessarily be the kind of excitement you had been counting on.
It's a shame, because our evening had been going along so well. I made lasagna and some truly killer meatballs. Randy bought a value pack of fireworks that we were detonating at regular intervals. And we had started our traditional New Year's Eve game night.
But then there was the champagne. Or rather, the champagne glasses. The pair of them were a wedding gift. Waterford Millennium Champagne Flutes. Expensive and delicate.
Now, I don't like keeping good things locked up in a closet unused. I don't get the point in that. If you are going to own something, use it. My grandmother died with a drawerful of brand new nightgowns she was saving for "someday." I vowed never to live my life that way and I believe in using the china, wearing the good shoes, and not owning something that sits in a cupboard or drawer.
Despite that, the flutes were not everyday glassware. I would've felt a little silly drinking my morning orange juice out of them on a Wednesday. But New Year's Eve was definitely an appropriate and ideal time to use them.
You can probably see where this is going. Naturally, with this being New Year's Eve, Dylan wanted to drink out of a fancy glass, too. I had given him apple juice in an everyday wine glass and he was happy with that. But, this being New Year's Eve, Randy decided that Dylan should have something just a little more special and he pulled out a plastic light-up martini glass I had gotten at some forgotten event. But daddy didn't just give the light-up glass to Dylan. He wanted to see the light show for himself and then couldn't figure out why one color didn't seem to work.
Daddy's action: What's going on here? Let me figure out why the green won't light up correctly.
Dylan's response: Oooh! Shiny, flashing lights! And Daddy said it was for me!
So Dylan did what any impulsive kid would do, he climbed up onto the step stool to get a closer look and get his hands on the flashing cup. And somehow the champagne flute got in the way. And fell. And broke.
I'll readily admit, I was upset at the sight of the beautiful glass, jagged and angry with cut shards. I felt sad for losing something precious. And, honestly, saw the correlation to our marriage, which has been dealing with it's own jagged and angry cuts.
I didn't want to yell or get mad at anyone. So I took myself out of the situation. From our spare room , I could hear Dylan run out of the kitchen to his bedroom crying that he didn't mean it. Later, I heard him come out and say it again. I couldn't hear Randy's response, but I heard Dylan run back into his room, screaming loudly. His screams held it all - frustration, anger (at himself and at us), and sorrow.
I wasn't ready to face either of them and figured, from the sound of it, Dylan needed some quiet time. So I remained in the spare room. But Randy was ready, apparently, to share his thoughts on the subject and he came to me. He said he didn't care if Dylan stayed in his room and that Dylan would be paying to replace the glass.
Here's where I stared at him in disbelief. Randy's anger was entirely out of proportion for what happened. And it instantly called up the mama bear in me. I told him he should've been more aware of what was going on instead of obsessing about the light in the cup. (Perhaps his own undiagnosed ADHD saying, Oooh, shiny, me play with.) Randy stormed out; I stayed and fumed.
When I had calmed down the mama bear in me, I realized that I was not helping the situation at all. So, I finally emerged from my bear cave and apologized. Randy said he was sorry, too, but....that Dylan was always doing things like this. He said it in amazement, like, where does this come from?
Diagnosis is just the beginning.
As I have on other occasions, I realized that Randy still has a disconnect between ADHD and the way that Dylan acts and reacts. That he doesn't see how getting the diagnosis of ADHD is just the first step in a long journey for both Dylan and us. Dylan needs to learn how to respond, how to control his impulsiveness, and how to describe his feelings without yelling. We need to learn how to teach him those things and how to help avoid catastrophe.
I think I do this all the time, almost without being aware of it. If I'm anywhere near glassware - a coffee mug, a glass of water, a wine glass - I'm on the alert. If Dylan gets within three feet of me, I instantly begin advising him to watch out for the glass. Or I physically move it further away. It's constant damage avoidance.
Am I preventing him from learning just how to control his body and his impulses? I don't think so, at least not at this stage. It will be a while, I think, before Dylan has the maturity and also the body control to keep this kind of thing from happening. To me, he's like a big golden retriever, full of excitement and enthusiasm and not quite sure how that flailing yellow bush at the end of his body is connected to what's behind his nose. To Dylan's credit, he will mature and will get more comfortable in his body...eventually. But unlike the golden retriever, he has angry mood swings that go along with it, and he needs to learn to control those at the same time.
Dylan is blessed in a way. After I went to him and told him I wasn't mad, he got over it almost immediately. I wish I could say the same for Randy. He didn't really calm down until this morning, long after the once-fun evening was over.
I keep hoping that these situations will open his eyes. That the light will dawn and he'll realize that our son is different and that he will always be a little different. I fervently hope Dylan will grow and learn and become more controlled, less distracted, and less impulsive. But we're talking gradations, not a complete change. There's always going to be a bit of a golden retriever in him. He's not a German shepherd, or even a Great Dane, whom I understand are wonderful apartment dogs who have a good understanding of their body and the space it takes up.
And who doesn't love a golden retriever?
Mixed in with that validation is maybe even a little relief. Finally, something to call it. Finally, something can be done.
That something can be medication, or behavioral therapy, or a mix of both. Or an alternative therapy.
However, that's not the end of the story, even though sometimes there is a desire to make that be the case. But naming the beast does not tame it. And with ADHD, neither medications, nor therapy, nor the alternatives cure the condition.
For me, the diagnosis set me up for an education process that I have only just begun. I've already said that my new hobby is learning about ADHD. Based on the number of blogs and message boards I've been on, this is a common mom reaction.
Not so much, it would seem, for dads.
Or at least Dylan's dad.
On more than one occasion, Randy has stared at his son in disbelief over an explosive reaction, a long drawn-out homework session, or an over-exuberant response that leads to some accident. As the mom who is constantly learning about the myriad ways that ADHD presents, I, in turn, stare at Randy in disbelief. How can you be truly surprised by Dylan's actions knowing that the neurons in his brain don't fire quite the way they should?
Such was the case last night.
New Year's Eve. Together with Christmas and Valentine's Day, New Year's Eve is a date imbued with all manner of expectations. Being parents changes those expectations, but it doesn't seem to diminish the feeling that something big is supposed to happen.
Of course, when you add in an easily distracted and very impulsive child along with disregard for his usual schedule, and you have a pretty good chance that something big will happen. It just won't necessarily be the kind of excitement you had been counting on.
It's a shame, because our evening had been going along so well. I made lasagna and some truly killer meatballs. Randy bought a value pack of fireworks that we were detonating at regular intervals. And we had started our traditional New Year's Eve game night.
But then there was the champagne. Or rather, the champagne glasses. The pair of them were a wedding gift. Waterford Millennium Champagne Flutes. Expensive and delicate.
Now, I don't like keeping good things locked up in a closet unused. I don't get the point in that. If you are going to own something, use it. My grandmother died with a drawerful of brand new nightgowns she was saving for "someday." I vowed never to live my life that way and I believe in using the china, wearing the good shoes, and not owning something that sits in a cupboard or drawer.
Despite that, the flutes were not everyday glassware. I would've felt a little silly drinking my morning orange juice out of them on a Wednesday. But New Year's Eve was definitely an appropriate and ideal time to use them.
You can probably see where this is going. Naturally, with this being New Year's Eve, Dylan wanted to drink out of a fancy glass, too. I had given him apple juice in an everyday wine glass and he was happy with that. But, this being New Year's Eve, Randy decided that Dylan should have something just a little more special and he pulled out a plastic light-up martini glass I had gotten at some forgotten event. But daddy didn't just give the light-up glass to Dylan. He wanted to see the light show for himself and then couldn't figure out why one color didn't seem to work.
Daddy's action: What's going on here? Let me figure out why the green won't light up correctly.
Dylan's response: Oooh! Shiny, flashing lights! And Daddy said it was for me!
So Dylan did what any impulsive kid would do, he climbed up onto the step stool to get a closer look and get his hands on the flashing cup. And somehow the champagne flute got in the way. And fell. And broke.
I'll readily admit, I was upset at the sight of the beautiful glass, jagged and angry with cut shards. I felt sad for losing something precious. And, honestly, saw the correlation to our marriage, which has been dealing with it's own jagged and angry cuts.
I didn't want to yell or get mad at anyone. So I took myself out of the situation. From our spare room , I could hear Dylan run out of the kitchen to his bedroom crying that he didn't mean it. Later, I heard him come out and say it again. I couldn't hear Randy's response, but I heard Dylan run back into his room, screaming loudly. His screams held it all - frustration, anger (at himself and at us), and sorrow.
I wasn't ready to face either of them and figured, from the sound of it, Dylan needed some quiet time. So I remained in the spare room. But Randy was ready, apparently, to share his thoughts on the subject and he came to me. He said he didn't care if Dylan stayed in his room and that Dylan would be paying to replace the glass.
Here's where I stared at him in disbelief. Randy's anger was entirely out of proportion for what happened. And it instantly called up the mama bear in me. I told him he should've been more aware of what was going on instead of obsessing about the light in the cup. (Perhaps his own undiagnosed ADHD saying, Oooh, shiny, me play with.) Randy stormed out; I stayed and fumed.
When I had calmed down the mama bear in me, I realized that I was not helping the situation at all. So, I finally emerged from my bear cave and apologized. Randy said he was sorry, too, but....that Dylan was always doing things like this. He said it in amazement, like, where does this come from?
Diagnosis is just the beginning.
As I have on other occasions, I realized that Randy still has a disconnect between ADHD and the way that Dylan acts and reacts. That he doesn't see how getting the diagnosis of ADHD is just the first step in a long journey for both Dylan and us. Dylan needs to learn how to respond, how to control his impulsiveness, and how to describe his feelings without yelling. We need to learn how to teach him those things and how to help avoid catastrophe.
I think I do this all the time, almost without being aware of it. If I'm anywhere near glassware - a coffee mug, a glass of water, a wine glass - I'm on the alert. If Dylan gets within three feet of me, I instantly begin advising him to watch out for the glass. Or I physically move it further away. It's constant damage avoidance.
Am I preventing him from learning just how to control his body and his impulses? I don't think so, at least not at this stage. It will be a while, I think, before Dylan has the maturity and also the body control to keep this kind of thing from happening. To me, he's like a big golden retriever, full of excitement and enthusiasm and not quite sure how that flailing yellow bush at the end of his body is connected to what's behind his nose. To Dylan's credit, he will mature and will get more comfortable in his body...eventually. But unlike the golden retriever, he has angry mood swings that go along with it, and he needs to learn to control those at the same time.
Dylan is blessed in a way. After I went to him and told him I wasn't mad, he got over it almost immediately. I wish I could say the same for Randy. He didn't really calm down until this morning, long after the once-fun evening was over.
I keep hoping that these situations will open his eyes. That the light will dawn and he'll realize that our son is different and that he will always be a little different. I fervently hope Dylan will grow and learn and become more controlled, less distracted, and less impulsive. But we're talking gradations, not a complete change. There's always going to be a bit of a golden retriever in him. He's not a German shepherd, or even a Great Dane, whom I understand are wonderful apartment dogs who have a good understanding of their body and the space it takes up.
And who doesn't love a golden retriever?
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