Upon entering the room I noticed that the teacher gave us a look which could have been interpreted as slightly odd, but I’m so used to odd looks (too used to them perhaps) that I carried on as though nothing was amiss. As the little ones spun around to take in their new classroom I quizzed her about busing schedules. “You’ll get a handout at open house next week,” she said.
Isn’t this open house right now, I thought, but I said, “I need to know what time they’ll be getting home tomorrow, don’t I?” Her funny look intensified. “There is bus service tomorrow, right”? Silently she handed me a class schedule, a duplicate copy of which I’d been given weeks before and had indeed read, though incorrectly. I’d read it incorrectly even while transferring dates to my calendar, including the date for the start of school which was a full week later than I hoped thought.
Only then did I notice the unpacked boxes of books, the supplies piled on tables and the blank bulletin boards hinting that children weren’t expected for several more days. No wonder she gave us a funny look when we barged into her unfinished classroom.
As I apologized a fit came upon my son. He sprinted without warning from the room; I wrapped up with the teacher and followed him out with my daughter trailing behind. The pre-school classroom is as far away from any exterior door as possible (perhaps they’ve met children like my boy before); nevertheless by the time I was halfway down the hall he was out the door. Bad as that was I felt sure he’d run no farther.
I was so wrong. I found a trio of parents escorting the boy back from a run that took him through the school parking lot, past a small garden and across the street where he’d attempted to gain entrance into the minivan and (presumably) take himself back home to his toys. All this happened in half a minute, during which time God only knows how many cars barreled down the street he crossed.
An hour afterward he pushed a little boy during a childish altercation in the park. Of course I put him in time out and made him apologize to both the child and his parents; nevertheless they were quite seriously torqued. A little later he inadvertently touched the mother’s elbow while passing by. I watched from across the playground as she spoke a few words to him. “What did that mommy say to you?” I asked after calling him over.
“She said I was a brat!” he responded, then ran off to rejoin his sisters.
Moments later all of them tore off across an open field adjacent to the park. While the girls ran straight ahead the boy suddenly cut to the side. “Surely he’ll stop before he gets to the parking lot,” I said nervously to our picnicking companion, but so unsure was I of the veracity of these words that I darted after him, succeeding in stopping him only after he’d zipped in front of a fully loaded dump truck executing a complicated turn.
With the other parents’ condescending eyes on us I hauled my wailing boy and his peevish sisters home and banished the boy to my room. “Sleep,” I told him sternly, but after five minutes I could hear him bouncing around so enthusiastically that Tigger would have greeted him as a long lost relative. I trudged upstairs and asked him once again to rest.
A scant two minutes later he needed another reminder. This time my arrival caught him off guard in mid-jump. I yelled “What are you doing?” and he crumpled into a weeping ball on the bed. After such a trying day I wanted nothing more than to continue shrieking at him but instead I pulled him next to me and stroked his head for the approximately 12.8 seconds it took him to fall asleep.
As he slept I cried in anger and frustration. I seethed at the sanctimonious parents on the playground. I cursed any part his mother’s actions played in setting up an in-utero environment capable of spawning such an outrageous creature. I imagined the worst possibilities such irrational enthusiasm and extraordinary energy could bring into his life.
But most of all I felt failure for my incompetence at tempering his behavior and at all the other ways I so spectacularly fall short as a mother.
I can’t imagine how tremendously difficult it must be to raise a kid who is bouncing off the walls, barreling through speeding traffic, and utterly resistent to learning how to behave socially, and how to be safe. I do not have kids, and I have no advice. But I can apologize for being judgmental when I see other kids who are unruly, for sending dirty looks to their parents, and for thinking quietly to myself that their parents are not doing their jobs. I will try to remember that if even someone who is as dedicated to being a great mom as you are is having this much trouble corraling her child, then maybe it’s not the parents’ fault. My thoughts are with you. Hang in there. I know you will find a way.
I understand. I really do.
AAG, do not despair. They are beasts. All of them. Even the good ones. Tormenting, evil-incarnate, but adorable little beasts.
And we love them anyway. Do not despair. This too shall pass. And the next phase MAY (but not necessarily) make this phase seem a walk in the park. Or a run through a park…ing lot in front of a fully loaded dump truck executing a complicated turn.
Melissa
Sometimes it’s the parents fault, but even in those instances, rarely is it only their fault. It’s one thing if a parent allows their child to continue kicking the back of my seat on a long flight, but quite another if s/he does everything within reasonable power to curb the behavior. Anyway, sad that we should fault anyone for children behaving as children.
And there’s a phrase for those parents offering dirty looks: don’t pretend like your shit doesn’t stink.
It’s hardly rude to assume that a parent should control their child if they’re going to be out in public. If someone’s child kicked me in the shin I’d be right pissed at them AND their kid. No excuse for that behavior, at all.
And anyone who says “Oh, that’s just how kids are” shouldn’t be a parent. There is proof that children can be controlled at a very young age, if the right effort and techniques are applied to raising them.
I really like KInDC’s final comment – the purpose of parenting often seems to be to teach you your inadequacies, I guess. I bet the problems I had with my parents aren’t the issues they’d remember.
I remember one day when my son was having a bad day and another parent in the park said “How long has been diagnosed with ADHD; what medication do you use?” Now, he tops his class in mathematics and is in an accelerated education stream… what works against them when they’re young often works for them when they’re older…
Hang in there! We have 3 and I know exactly how you feel. My wife and I do not give a damn what other people think. Kids get crazy, even in the best of circumstances. You are doing great!
This is possibly the worst thing I’ve read on here so far. If you can’t control 3 children, don’t have that many. If you can’t control one, then don’t have ANY. Please see my earlier post as to the specifics.
Alrighty Lex, bye bye. Yer banned. Later!
Glad to have a chance to explain/reply here, though I must say deleting my other post was kinda uncool.
Ah, AAG, I feel your pain. I am the mother of not one, but three such boys. No daughters to assuage the heartache. Let me tell you a secret. They grow out of it. The biological mother did nothing to incite this behavior. I was caffiene free, sugar free, nutrasweet free, alcohol free, preservative free…you name it, I stayed away from it, and still, all three, bouncing off the walls, especially when we visited the pediatrician. They are spirited children, and it will serve them well later in life. It’s just hard on the Mommy’s when they are little.
It is outrageous that any person at a children’s park wo refer to any children, especially other’s children, as a “brat”. If that mother had a problem, she should have spoken to you.
In this one thing we, all of us, fail. There is no manual, no magic formula for raising human beings. Even when they are small they have their own personalities, their own agenda.
All we can do is the best we can do. Keep at it and be kind to yourself. xo
I like Elizabeth’s answer so much that I have nothing else to add.
Maybe he’ll grow up to be an Olympic runner?
Some children respond to talking or reasoning or time-out.
Some do not. Some times they need to have a bit of fear instilled in them. It can be fear of lost activities OR it can be fear of the pain that comes from a swat across the rear end.
In the end there will be some who will not be phased by anything that is done to them. They can amuse themselves with their imagination so time out and banning TV, computer or phone means nothing. Pain fades quickly so that doesn’t work either. It is up to the parent to determine what punishment works.
Children are like water.
Aided by gravity, water is constantly and relentlessly attempting to sink to the lowest level possible. When it encounters even the smallest crack it will force its way through and make the opening larger. It doesn’t take much lack of vigilance before this happens.
You can be a friend OR you can be a parent. You can’t be both.
I have three and one of them is the “intense” type. He NEEDS to move. Fortunately, I can usually see it coming and make sure he gets some exercise before he totally self-destructs. I love to tell playground moms that he’s not ADD, he’s just four. I don’t want my kids to be lumps; they’re all engaged, spirited, curious, loving people.
He is a tremendous athlete even at four years old. He can run for days, hit or kick a ball like a champ, and climb like a monkey. He’s also great at helping take off his little sister’s shoes, playing peek-a-boo, and cooking muffins. These things that annoy the piss out of us now will serve him well later in life. He’ll be one of those people who is always working on twelve things, and does them all with a sparkle in his eyes.
You take what you get and work with it. Some days are great, some … not so great. But this energy and delightedness that we love, this, this will stay around and be one of the reasons we love him. One of my favorite things is to watch him run — his sheer joy in it is so apparent.
I have two coping ideas that worked for me, and might help you. The first was simply to get him to the point where he knows he’s getting excited. My son says he’s “riled up,” or that he “has the bubbles”. Once the emotion is identified we started teaching him how to calm down. He’s learned to breathe in through his nose (like sniffing a flower) and out through his mouth (like blowing out candles). This sometimes leads to “sniff, BLOOOOW, sniff, BLOOOOOW, sniff, BLOOOOOW” but eventually he gets himself under control.
Keep at it. No kid is perfect (who would want that anyway? Talk about lack of character) and no mom is perfect. But we’ll keep trying, dammit, we’ll keep trying. It’s the trying that makes us good parentwa. Make “process not progress” your mantra.
People like Lex obviously do not have children, don’t know anyone with children and should never be trusted with children. “There is proof that children can be controlled at a very young age, if the right effort and techniques are applied to raising them.” Please, show me the proof, then show me the empty shell of a child thats left.
However crazy my son drives me, I wouldn’t change him. The 5year old that notices every minute thing in his environment, who is endlessly fascinated by everything, who talks at 500 miles an hour without breathing.
The kid who laughs out loud in his sleep because his dreams are so fun.
Just an FYI, I’m actually great with children. Used to babysit kids all the time. There has never been a time I couldn’t control the kids in my charge, as long as they were old enough to talk. (If they’re too young to understand what you’re saying to them, then yes they are difficult to control.)
In public, at the theater, with or without sugar, doesn’t matter. Teaching a child to obey instantly is much like training a dog, actually. Instant rewards or punishments to reinforce positive behavior and discourage negative. Links at the end.
And by the way, if your kid talks too fast and hyperfocuses on everything, I would suggest either dosing him or taking the advice in link 2 to heart.
http://vb.ly/11w — a link to a smart article on being able to afford your children
http://vb.ly/11y — same website, about training your kids to behave on cue, part 1 of a series
AAG, I’d really like to reply to this post but to be honest, I’m leary of doing so in public on your comments, is there an email address I might use to contact you?
Bree
And if it’s obvious on your website I apologize for being unable to find it ;)
aagblog at gmail dot com
:)
Your son is unfurling as he slowly but surely manifests his own extraordinary presence on this planet. You are doing the best you know how to help in that process and are to be commended for your effort. Unfortunately, you’re also judging yourself as incompetent by some arbitrary set of standards of normalcy. Embrace his uniqueness and your own and of the relationship that exists between you if you can and let those who label him a brat live up to their nonsensical notion of normal. That’s punishment enough, don’t you think?
When I say “You drive me crazy…”, my nearly 4-yr old finishes it with “…but you love me anyway and because of it!”
What I find works is setting the boundaries/rules and enforcing and reminding and keeping on top of the kidlet. Relentlessly. In both of her homes (but I’m more of a hardass than her dad).
You are NOT – at ALL – failing or falling short. That’s like saying he’s failing at being a good kid.
I have no kids, and don;t feel ready for them (even though I’m 30!), but that’s just the way I feel. I have to admit that in the past I have been annoyed at a parent for not dealing with their weyward child but think that KinDC’s comment is perfect – you can’t blame the parents all of the time – it’s NOT all their fault.
I hope things get a little easier for you and that things calm a bit when he gets to school – sometimes they do.
You know what? I know these kids…I know THIS kid, this small boy whom you have made feel so secure in himself and his life that he is simply FEARLESS about exploring his world. He is a joyful, spirited person just starting to come into his own. Does he do all that stuff you listed – yeah. But he also is the child who runs and hugs me with glad joyful cries of greeting. And the child who gives me small gifts and shy glances and spontaneous hugs and many many giggles and laughs.
I love this kid. Without that feeling of security he would be a different person. I’d still love him but he wouldn’t be this brightly burning joyful in the moment child he is now.
The sprinting-off behavior has to be curbed somehow – I won’t say I’m some expert and suggest how – but only because it threatens the child’s own safety, not because it represents any kind of social problem with the child. If our world was dump-truck-free, it wouldn’t matter so much. It seems like you did perfectly well with the one thing here that sounds like a social issue – the pushing of the other child. The only thing that seems weird to me is that he didn’t seem bothered to have been called a brat by the other mother. Maybe that’s just lack of context because you’re concerned about other things (as well you should be; the other lady had no business saying such a thing) but it strikes me that some concern for the opinions of others, since they tend to reflect how others feel about our behavior, is missing from that moment. But, it’s just a moment, and he’s a very young child – still growing out of the very normal ‘center of the world’ time. All in all I say: whatevs, you did good. If there’s a real concern about him dashing out in traffic, make a hand-holding rule or use a tether (if you can stand them, I won’t get into whether they are right or wrong, but they sure seem effective!) or whatever it takes, and since the rest of it is small stuff – don’t sweat it. ;)
Please do not feel incompetent or like a failure.
I haven’t read all the comments, so please forgive if what I say echoes others.
Boys, in general, just have more don’t-think-it-through, get-up-and-go than girls do. I have 2 much younger brothers, a teenaged son (& 2 girls), and have been am elementary school substitute teacher. My son alone has done so many questionable things, starting when he was a toddler through to today, that it is absolutely amazing that we’ve never had to take him to the ER. He has pulled a concrete block on his foot, swung on a bunkbed railing ’til it ripped lose and smacked him in the face, put hot pepper juice in his nose and eyes, fallen into rose bushes, fallen off his skateboard into the mailbox… You get the idea. And most of his friends aren’t much better (the stories I hear…). If he can climb on it, through it, under it, over it, jump in/off/over, hand off it, etc., he is there in a heartbeat.
Please don’t let those who have no understanding of children like thus bring you down.
PS my son is a joy, angst and all. He is bright and funny and ever amusing, even when he’s cranky.
*hugs*
Robin