La vie comme une rivière, la suite.

December 6, 2012December 6, 2012 ~ Veronique ~ 2 Comments

Suite à ma dernière publication en français «La vie comme une rivière » j’ai reçu quelques commentaires questionnant le message sous-jacent à mon texte. Certains m’ont demandé si l’adoption d’enfants à besoin spéciaux était le seul moyen « de se prouver. » D’autres ont observé que tout le monde n’est pas appelé à faire de grandes choses, que certains ne sont appelés qu’à bien mener une vie ordinaire.

C’est vrai. Nous ne sommes pas tous appelés à la même chose. Nous ne suivons pas tous le même chemin. Mais peut-être sommes tous appelés à quelque chose de plus grand que nous-mêmes? Ce n’est pas le point de départ ou d’arrivée qui importe mais le dépassement de soi. Combien de briques sont nécessaires pour former la base solide de la pyramide? Sans une base bien étayée, la pointe de la pyramide ne vaut pas grand-chose. Et c’est ainsi que ceux qui semblent nous dépasser ont eux aussi besoin du support d’une base solide. L’important, c’est d’être prêt à servir. Je me suis beaucoup questionné sur l’adoption : nous avons tellement à offrir. Pour l’instant, j’ai réalisé avec grande clarté que j’étais appelée à un rôle de support. Le support matériel et spirituel est une brique tout aussi importante de cette démarche. J’ai trouvé beaucoup de paix intérieure lorsque j’ai compris que plutôt que de me sentir inutile parce que je n’avais pas la même vocation , je pouvais transformer cette bonne volonté en prière et demander d’être prête à sauter dans la mêlée. Puis de faire confiance.

C’est ainsi qu’a commencé une belle histoire d’entraide et de support, tout tranquillement alors que je revenais de visiter mon amie qui vient d’adopter et qui se poursuit aujourd’hui.

Lorsque les jumeaux sont nés, j’ai commencé à m’intéresser au portage. J’avais besoin de mes mains et j’avais trois enfants qui avaient besoin de mon attention. J’ai découvert que le portage, c’était bien plus que de récupérer ses mains! Prendre les petits sur moi me permets non seulement de continuer à m’occuper des autres mais aussi de répondre à leur besoin de contact et d’attention. 15 minutes sur le dos de maman et j’ai des petits ressourcés, comme neufs. Bref, au cours de mon congé de maternité, j’ai découvert une communauté de portage, j’ai commencé à utiliser des écharpes et des porte-bébés préformés. Puis comme je porte beaucoup, j’ai commencé à accueillir des mamans chez moi et à me déplacer pour aider les mamans à apprendre l’art du portage.

Lorsque j’ai visité mon amie qui vient d’adopter, j’ai passé la journée avec son petit bonhomme de 2 ans et je l’ai porté dans le sling pour une bonne partie de l’après-midi. C’est fou comment le portage peut jeter des ponts et rendre une situation non familière normale pour un enfant. Puis j’ai porté une de ses jumelles dans mon préformé Manduca et j’ai tout de suite vu que ce serait la solution idéale pour que maman retrouve ses mains. La poche en tissus intérieur permet de bien placer bébé, sans la forcer dans une position non-physiologique (elles ont quand même 18 mois les puces, malgré leur taille de nouveau-né). Le préformé évitait la courbe d’apprentissage de l’écharpe pour laquelle maman n’a ni le temps ni l’inclination et le Manduca a la versatilité d’être utilisé pour son bonhomme de 2 ans qui, en surcroît d’avoir encore bien besoin de sa maman, doit la suivre à l’hôpital et en clinique, autant d’endroits où il ne pourra pas toujours toucher à tout et se promener librement. Avec mes trois de moins de 3 ans depuis l’année dernière, c’est porte ou crève; et mes circonstances ne sont même pas dans la même galaxie de difficulté!

Avant ma visite, j’avais pensé offrir une de mes écharpes à mon amie en cadeau de bienvenue. Je suis un fan fini de mes écharpes de portage. Mais j’ai bien vu que ce ne serait pas approprié pour une maman qui n’a ni le temps ni l’inclination de battre la courbe d’apprentissage de l’écharpe, d’autant plus que la pratique se ferait plus souvent qu’autrement dans le stationnement de l’hôpital l’hiver ou sur des planchers durs à l’intérieur de l’hôpital.

Même les grands enfants aiment le portage!

Au retour de ma visite, j’ai décidé de vendre deux écharpes de portage et deux slings afin de financer l’achat de deux porte-bébés Manduca. Le total se portait à $370 avant les taxes. J’ai donc annoncé mes écharpes à vendre auprès de mes amies du groupe de portage d’Ottawa sur Facebook. J’ai écrit un court texte sur le Manduca et le portage « à besoins spéciaux » et j’ai expliqué pourquoi je vendais mes deux écharpes. Moins de 20 minutes plus tard, j’avais reçu plusieurs messages me demandant si je prenais les dons : plusieurs mamans voulaient contribuer mais n’avaient pas besoin d’une nouvelle écharpe. Puis une amie m’a dit « Il y a 300 mamans dans le groupe de portage, si 25 mamans donnent $15, tu as tes deux porte-bébés. » J’ai donc annoncé que mon compte PayPal avait été remis à zéro et que celles qui aimeraient contribuer pouvaient le faire via PayPal. La vente de mes écharpes se ferait via PayPal de toute façon. Puis je suis allée me coucher.

Quand je me suis levée le lendemain matin, j’avais reçu presque $200 de dons et mes deux écharpes étaient vendues. J’avais presque $400 en main. Je me sentais presque mal-à-l’aise. Je n’avais même pas eu le temps d’en parler à mon amie et j’avais un peu peur qu’elle refuse, se sentant peut-être l’objet de charité ou de pitié. Mais cette réponse enthousiaste de ma communauté de « mère-porteuses » n’était pas motivée par la pitié mais plutôt par un sens d’entraide. Ces mamans avaient lu l’histoire de mon amie sur son blogue et avaient été profondément touchées par cette adoption un peu folle par son altruisme. Tout comme moi, elles étaient portées par un désir né du cœur de faire partie de cette belle histoire. Nous ne sommes pas toutes appelées à l’adoption d’enfants dans le besoin, mais nous pouvons toutes offrir notre support, nos prières et nos pensées à ceux qui le sont.

Lorsque les porte-bébés ont été achetés, il me restait encore de l’argent. J’ai d’abord pensé leur offrir une carte-cadeau chez Costco ou Walmart mais j’ai réalisé, lorsque les jumelles ont été réadmises pour leur deuxième séjour à l’hôpital en autant de semaines, que mes amis n’avaient pas besoin d’épicerie mais de repas. Ils ont besoin de temps plus que d’argent. J’ai donc organisé un bon vieux « party » de cuisine. Nous avons planifié un menu de repas congelés que nous allons préparer « à l’ancienne » c’est-à-dire en communauté, avec des mamans qui cuisinent, d’autres qui s’occupent des bébés, d’autres qui lavent la vaisselle. En quelques heures, nous devrions avoir une dizaine de repas près à congeler, des enfants fatigués et une bonne rasade de jasette et de compagnie.

J’ai beaucoup appris cette semaine. Sur moi-même, sur la valeur de la communauté, sur l’amitié. Et si j’ai ressenti un peu de gêne au départ en acceptant de laisser mes amies contribuer à ce cadeau, j’ai réalisé que le don n’est pas seulement ce qui est reçu. En donnant à d’autres l’occasion d’agir généreusement, nous devenons tous plus forts.

La vie comme une rivière

November 22, 2012January 5, 2013 ~ Veronique ~ 2 Comments

Vous êtes-vous déjà trouvé là, métaphoriquement debout au milieu de votre vie, à regarder tout autour et vous demander où vous vous en allez? À quoi se résume la somme de vos priorités, de vos choix, où mène le chemin que vous avez créé par la force de vos décisions successives, comme l’eau courante qui creuse une rivière?

Plus la rivière est profonde, plus le courant est fort. Et plus difficile d’en sortir. Vous est-il déjà arrivé de vous croire destiné à de plus grandes choses? Puis de réaliser qu’à votre âge et compte tenu de vos habiletés, vous étiez sans doute arrivé au paroxysme de votre grandeur? Avez-vous trouvé votre appel, votre vocation? Je me pose souvent la question.

J’ai eu le loisir de me pencher sur le but de ma vie récemment alors qu’une amie proche et son mari sont allés au Viêt-Nam pour y adopter deux jumelles. Dans un acte de confiance aveugle en la vie, ils sont allés chercher ces deux petites filles qui avaient un besoin criant de soins médicaux, d’amour et d’une famille où s’enraciner. Cette famille hors du commun en est à sa deuxième adoption d’enfants présumés « à besoin spéciaux » que d’autres familles ont refusés, leur troisième adoption. Au cours du voyage, mon amie a écrit deux choses – sur son blogue ou Facebook – qui m’ont marquées. Le jour du départ (citation approximative, traduite de l’anglais) : « Je suis mon chemin, celui que la vie a mis devant moi. » Puis après avoir reçu ses filles : « Maintenant je sais pourquoi nous nageons à contre-courant depuis si longtemps. Tout nous préparait à accueillir et aimer ces trésors de la vie. »

Lorsqu’un proche pose un acte d’une telle grandeur, il est inévitable de se mettre en perspective. On voit nos peurs, nos doutes et nos limites avec une grande clarté. On se demande ce qui nous différencie de ceux qui agissent avec grandeur d’âme, générosité et courage. Car s’il est facile de se rassurer en se faisant croire qu’il s’agit d’êtres surhumains lorsqu’on les voit en reportage dans les média, c’est impossible lorsqu’il s’agit d’amis que l’on sait normaux, avec leurs doutes, leurs peurs et leurs limites.

Je me suis demandé quelle était la différence essentielle entre ceux qui accueillent la différence à bras ouverts et ceux qui la rejette. De nos jours, la science du dépistage prénatal nous permet de croire que nous pouvons choisir les défis que nous décidons de relever.

Car il s’agit de quelque chose de plus profond que le désir ou le désaveu de la différence. Les handicaps ou les besoins spéciaux ne sont pas qu’une différence pour les familles affectées : c’est l’engagement d’une vie et le renoncement à un parcours ordinaire. Et même si le bonheur se trouve au détour d’un parcours hors de l’ordinaire, nous semblons plus aptes à faire notre deuil du bonheur que de l’ordinaire. L’humain dépense plus d’énergie à éviter la douleur qu’à rechercher le plaisir, c’est un fait.

Alors qu’est-ce qui fait la différence entre ceux qui acceptent le défi, embrassent la croissance qui vient du dépassement de soi et ceux qui ont souvent tout à offrir mais le gardent pour eux? Je laisse la réflexion à des cerveaux mieux aguerris. Mais pour ma part, je sais dans quel camp j’aimerais me trouver si un jour la vie me fait appel. Et si j’ai appris une leçon de l’expérience de mon amie, c’est que nos décisions de tous les jours nous préparent à l’appel de la vie et lui offre un terrain fertile ou une terre brûlée.

Je veux être prête.

My little stowaway

November 8, 2012 ~ Veronique ~ 9 Comments

I had a moment the other night. Many people, me included before I had a large family, think that moms with lots of kids have it easier. That they are more patient, more loving, that their children are more manageable. But the truth is that even moms with lots of kids have moments when they think this is all a little too much. Moments we don’t brag about on Facebook.

Since the twins were born, the nights have not been great. But while I am severely sleep-deprived, I am functional as long as the routine holds. I can deal with a crappy night. But when it gets crappier, I have moments. Moments of intense frustration, almost anger.

Ève sleeps better than Lucas. She usually wakes-up once a night between 3 and 4 am after going to bed between 6 and 7 pm. She nurses quickly and goes back to sleep. Lucas sleeps with me and wakes-up constantly. I ditched the clock when it started to make me angry. I don’t know how often he wakes-up and it’s better that way.

The other night, around 11 pm, Lucas woke-up as usual and I nursed him for a good half-hour. Then Ève woke-up against regulation. She wanted to nurse too but there was no more milk. I only have one working boob. When it’s empty, I need to give it some time to refill. That’s just The Way Things Are. But Ève was not buying it. My husband tried to cuddle with her but she became completely hysterical. I tried to nurse her for comfort but she wanted FOOD!

I tried giving her a bottle but she refused. For a while, she was fine cuddling with me, her watchful eyes wide open. I felt so lonely in the silence of my house, hearing my children and husband snore in the comfort of their beds. For a minute, I hoped that someone would come and sit with me and commiserate on the great injustice that was befalling me. Eventually, after a third dry nursing attempt and following return to bed, she lost it. I offered the breast again and instead of taking it, she grabbed it with her sharp little nails and violently threw it away. It hurt so much; I was so mad, I yelled “ENOUGH!” put her gently in her bed still screaming and walked-away. I may have slammed her door. I went downstairs and crashed on a couch. I heard my husband walk over to her room and pick her up.

I was mad at my body for failing me. Mad at the”insufficient glandular tissue” that made it impossible to produce enough milk for two babies. I was mad at myself for taking it out on Ève, for feeling so misunderstood and helpless, for expecting my 13- month-old to get it. I was mad that my husband had to go comfort our baby because I was too mad to do it myself.

I went back upstairs. I was eventually able to have a let-down and she accepted it as enough of the Good Stuff to return to sleep. My husband said “She needs as much closeness and affection as Lucas, she’s just not as good at asking for it.” And he is right. Lucas is cuddly and melts into your arms like soft butter, Ève gets mad and trashes about until you force the breast or the soother in her mouth and hold her tightly. Only then does she realize that you are here for her.

I went back to the day I found out I was pregnant with Baby#7. I drove the children to school on a snowy morning, stopped by the pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test, came home and took the test with my coat still on, in the downstairs bathroom by the garage door. I remember standing in the mud room thinking “Well… Here’s Lucas…” We told the children about the new baby on a car trip to Florida. When I found out we were having twins, I was so thrilled by this gift of life. A little freebie. A #8 tucked-in with #7. I was looking at our Florida pictures later that year, wondering how crazy it was that we had two babies all along. A little stowaway! For some reason, even though both babies were conceived at the same time, I always thought of Eve as my little stowaway, my little freebie, the little #8 tucked-in with #7.

When Eve woke-up the next morning, I went to nurse her. She laid her little head in the crook of my arm and relaxed against my chest. I stroked her soft wispy hair and kissed her warm round forehead. I looked at her soulful half-moon eyes and told her “I’m so happy you came along. I love you”

And it was all forgotten.

Family camping hits and misses: DIY Laundry

July 23, 2012July 25, 2012 ~ Veronique ~ 1 Comment

Doing her own laundry! — My oldest daughter demonstrating the art of washing your own clothes while wearing two camping un-dryables: the hooded sweatshirt and jeans.

When my husband and I planned our summer holidays we decided to make them more than just fun and include a bit of life skills. Since we have 5 daughters — including, to be honest, an infant who still wears whatever the heck I say — frugality in their change of clothes was a survival skill that was sorely lacking. And by survival, I mean mostly my own as the Chief Laundry Matron.

To teach the girls frugality in their change of clothes, we decided to skip the laundromat altogether and make the children wash their own clothes. We purchased a large yellow janitor’s bucket-on-wheel with a mop wringer. We hoped to use it as a laundry-washer-and-wringer. We also went shopping for a proper hand-washing laundry detergent. My first lesson in DIY laundry was to learn that not all gentle detergents are created equal. In other words, there is gentle machine detergent and there is hand-washing detergent. For longer-term use, you cannot get away with repeatedly (read daily) washing clothes by hand in machine detergent. I learned this at the last minute and left with a jug of grocery-store bought Ivory Snow. It did the job but in the future I will shop for something meant to be dumped back into the ground.

The laundry routine got off to a bad start when we realized that the yellow janitor bucket would not fit in the camping trailer. Well, not with our current rate of packing. Fitting 10 in a trailer meant for 7 doesn’t only mean that you will be cozy — read “cramped”– it also means that you are storing more stuff than the trailer was meant to store. Leaving the wringer at home meant hand-wringing and putting-up very wet clothes to dry.

The drying time was a problematic issue. When camping in PEI, where the weather was dry and windy, our clothes took half a day to dry. But in Quebec where the weather was hot, humid and the campsites shaded, drying took at least two days. I say “at least” because we left Quebec City with a basket full of wet clothes that finished drying in the St-Lawrence River wind in Riviere-du-Loup.

The drying issues didn’t stop with the weather. Another challenge came, what’s new, from the size of our family. Even with washing small loads daily, I didn’t have enough clothesline to hang 10-people’s clothes. I relied on a folding drying rack but stacking clothes side-by-side also lengthens drying time. Add the daily load of beach towels and bathing suits and the drying real estate comes at a premium. Last winter as we were planning our trip, I made a list of camping clothes I wanted to find for the children. It included a lot of active wear from MEC in synthetic fibers and nylon blends for quicker drying. I was hoping to find most of it in consignment stores but didn’t follow-through with as much enthusiasm as clothing 8 kids on a budget warrants. We left with our usual canvas and t-shirts. And those take a long time to dry, especially when they sport fancy add-on such as cargo pockets and shelf bras. To top it off, some children — who shall remain anonymous — tossed the carefully crafted list of “Things to Bring” and packed their own duffel bags with enough clothes to bypass the entire laundry exercise. Not only didn’t they learn anything about laundry frugality but we tripped on their humongous kit bags for two weeks, shedding bits and pieces of sanity with every hit.

Laundry logistics was also a concern in the planning of our daily activities. To be kept under control, the laundry monster had to be fought a little daily. But planning daily laundry without interfering with the hot water needs of mealtimes and personal hygiene made it difficult to leave the trailer. I had to face the fact that regardless of the value of the learning experience, 6 people doing a handful of laundry daily was seriously inefficient. In the interest of having a family holiday, I ended-up doing most of everybody’s laundry. Overall, I washed half of our total laundry burden by hand and took advantage of laundromats for the other half.

I’m not giving-up on DIY laundry and the teaching of clothes frugality. Next time, we will bring the wringer bucket even if I have to toss a few overstocked items (like the playpen and my guitar: really, we c0-sleep… in a 26X8 ft camper trailer… why did I think that (a) I would use the playpen, and (b) I would play a musical instrument after bedtime. Why?). I will also carefully oversee my children’s packing to make sure that they don’t bring their entire wardrobe and that their clothes are easy to wash and dry. And I will buy a washboard. That will be the best part.

Tout a commencé avec un biscuit

June 21, 2012June 21, 2012 ~ Veronique ~ Leave a comment

For my English readers: this post is about how differences in temperaments and personalities are obvious at a very young age. Yet, most baby books gloss over this when they offer solutions to common struggles of infancy.

S’il y a une chose qui m’embête avec les livres destinés aux parents de bébés, c’est la tendance à assigner aux bébés un tempérament universel. C’est pourtant étonnant venant d’adultes qui se décriraient comme ayant un tempérament unique et particulier, né à la fois de leur bagage génétique et de leur expérience vécue. Un amalgame de neurones, d’hormones et de circonstances qu’il est presque impossible à décrire. Et pourtant, il suffit de lire quelques ouvrages sur le comportement des bébés pour que tout d’un coup, les petits humains deviennent une espèce unique. Les bébés qui ne dorment pas “préfèrent jouer” ou encore “manipulent”, pour certains ils ont “des mauvaises habitudes”, pour d’autres ils “manquent d’autonomie”. À chaque auteur sa théorie mais de manière générale, une fois la théorie adoptée, peu en démordent.

Tout cela est bien ridicule. Les petits humains naissent avec autant de variation de personnalités et de tempérament que leur version mature. Il suffit d’avoir une paire de jumeaux pour vraiment s’en rendre compte. Voici une petite expérience en photo pour mieux l’illustrer:

1. Prenez deux jumeaux. Appelons-les Princesse impériale et Fils à Maman. Mettez-les jumeaux en question dans leur chaise haute.

2. Donnez-leur un biscuit. Pour que l’expérience adhère aux plus rigoureux standards académiques, il est important de leur donner le même biscuit au même moment. (en plus, c’est plus simple).

3. Mettez votre chronomètre à zéro.

4. Tournez le dos pour 30 secondes et retournez voir les jumeaux. Voici ce que vous trouverez: Fils à Maman grignote prudemment son biscuit. Princesse Impériale a déjà terminé son biscuit et passe immédiatement à la prochaine étape: la mort de faim.

5. Elle attaque un morceau de melon sans autre forme de procès (et sans se poser quelques questions évidentes comme “C’est lequel le côté comestible?” Le même sors attend la patate douce.

Fils à Maman pour sa part, continue de grignoter son biscuit prudemment (et proprement). Les bébés, tout comme leur version mature, ont un tempérament bien à eux. Il suffit d’avoir une paire de jumeaux pour le voir avec une appréciation renouvelée.

Let him cry it out

April 23, 2012May 27, 2016 ~ Veronique ~ 4 Comments

Lucas is not the best sleeper baby. He is a fun and engaging little dude who likes to party.

He also likes his mom. A lot. Almost from birth he would look around for mom whenever someone else was holding him and react to the sound of her voice. At night, he likes to know his mom is nearby.

Parenting experts say that babies wake-up at night because they lack the skill to fall asleep on their own. But Lucas says it’s all nonsense. He can fall asleep on his own just fine. In fact, his mommy always put him down in bed wide awake. He and Ève will chat a while then Ève will fall asleep and Lucas will keep chatting her up a bit longer until it gets boring. Then he falls asleep looking at Ève.

Lucas wakes-up several times a night to check on mom. Mom finds it a bit tiresome: if you include the last 6 weeks of the twin pregnancy, the longest stretch of sleep mommy’s had in the last 9 months was, oh, about 2 hours. And most nights, between Lucas, Ève and Sarah, mommy can be up as often as every 45 minutes between midnight an 4:00 am. Some nights mommy wonders why she bothers going to bed at all: talk about setting yourself up for failure!

So about once a month since Lucas turned 3 months, mommy decides that she will listen to the experts and let Lucas “learn” to fall asleep on his own. The experts say that after crying for a while, Lucas will learn to “self-soothe” by using his fingers. But Lucas says this is all nonsense : he knows perfectly well where his fingers are and how to put them in his mouth. But that’s of little use to him since they are not attached to mommy.

Other experts say that mommy should give Lucas some water at night so that Lucas will learn not to be hungry. But Lucas says this is all nonsense: when Daddy gives him water or a pacifier, he still needs to know that mommy is near.

So mommy decides once a month that Lucas should cry it out. And it lasts, oh, about 5 minutes. Because nature did a good job and when Lucas cries, this is what mommy is up against:

Allocation

April 19, 2012 ~ Veronique ~ 7 Comments

This post is about pocket money and allowances. Yes, our children get an allowance. No, it’s not linked to their chores. Chores happen because we are part of a family. Nobody has the option of not participating. Allowances serve the purpose of teaching saving and management, exposing our children’s financial temperaments and flaws, and teaching the difference between a want and a need.

Cette semaine, en panne d’inspiration, je me suis tournée vers Facebook et Facebook a répondu. Mon amie Luce a proposé une publication sur l’argent de poche et les allocations. Ça tombe bien, j’ai toujours eu l’intention de le faire.

La réponse courte: Oui. Les 4 plus vieux reçoivent $20 par mois. Si vous voulez lire plus sur notre approche face à l’argent de poche, continuez à lire ci-dessous.

Continue reading “Allocation” →

Teenagers: Learning from their mistakes pt 2

January 27, 2012 ~ Veronique ~ Leave a comment

I concluded my previous post on teens and discipline by telling you about the essay as a discipline tool. You can find part 1 of Learning from their mistakes here.

Have you ever sent a child to her room to think about what she’d done? Do you really think, while she’s there, that she is pondering on the great wrong she’s done to you? If you do, I hate to burst your bubble. Your child is more likely reflecting on how great a victim she is. Assuming she is not reading, sleeping, surfing the Net or watching TV (but your children don’t have TV in their room, right?? If they do, we must have words). Let’s be honest: when we send a child to their room to “think”, what we are really saying is:

I’m really annoyed by your behaviour, please get out of my space while I regain my composure.

Agreed?

The result of sending a child to his room may not always be as intended but we are on to something with the idea of reflecting on one’s behaviour and understand where it failed. The problem with “go to your room” is that we are not nurturing our children’s budding moral development by shooing them off to “think” by themselves.

When it comes to teenagers, the development of a reliable sense of right and wrong is essential and time sensitive: a teenager in grade 10 (15-16) could be moving out to study in 2-3 years. If they are not learning self-control, impulse-management and developping a moral fiber, they can be in for a world of trouble. When I tell my teenagers to “go think about what you’ve done” I mean it in a way I may not have meant when they were little.

In Good Discipline, Great Teens, Dr. Ray Guarandi suggests using essays instead of lectures to teach discipline. I met Dr. Ray some years ago when I was on the organizing committee for a parenting conference where he was the speaker. His talks are like stand-up routines: we laughed so hard it hurt. But don’t get fooled by the funnies: while his delivery is hilarious, his approach to discipline is serious. After the conference, we went out for dinner with Dr. Ray and I asked him: “That strong discipline approach sounds great in theory but the parents I know who have discipline problems with their teenagers never had a backbone. Shouldn’t they change their approach gradually?”. His reply really left an image that inspires most of my parenting nowadays. He said: “Did you ever drink sour milk thinking it was fresh? When you realize you have a mouthfull of sour milk, do you spit it out gradually or all at once?” When there is something wrong with your children, whether its too much backtalk, too much computer or failing grades, you need to face it head on. Here is a quote from Good Discipline, Great Teens that encapsulates Dr. Ray’s approach:

Dear Dr. Ray, Any words for dealing with a fifteen-year-old who is verbally demeaning to his two younger sisters (…), sometimes abusively so?

Yes. Stop him.

He does give more pointed advice on ways to stop the bad behaviour. But he doesn’t buy the “teens will be teens” schtick. At all. Yes, teens will be teens and this may involve some attitude, back talk and abuse. But it doesn’t mean that you, as parent, have to take it, indulge it or bear it out. Being called over and over on their bad behaviour — and believe me, I have two teens, I cannot overstate how often “over and over” means — is how we imprint on their developping brain what is morally and socially acceptable (and what will get them sued, fired or dumped).

But back to essays. Last December, my husband and I were confronted with a discipline problem involving two of our four oldest children. The offense involved going behind our backs to do something they knew they were not allowed to do. For a few weeks before they got busted, these two children were increasingly short-tempered, rude and difficult. I thought maybe they were overtired or reacting to the twins’ birth, whatever. In hindsight, I think that living a lie was eating away at their souls. When we confronted them, it was very important for us to convey that the material offense wasn’t nearly as big a deal as the lying. The way we approached this was to have a family meeting where we told them (again) about the family rule they had transgressed and why it was in place. We told the children that we knew that two of them had gone beyond our backs. The transgressors were grounded for at least two weeks (except for school and sports) and their computer priviledges were removed (the computer was the instrument of the transgression). Then we assigned them with two written projects. The projects had to be handed-in before the computer priviledges could be regained and the grounding lifted. Both children had to present a written apology with an explanation of what went through their heads when they decided to go behind our backs. They also had to write an essay (500 words for the youngest and 2000 for the oldest) on personal integrity, personal dignity and respect for parental authority. The oldest of the two also had to do a bit of research on why the family rule he-or-she had transgressed was important.

When they handed back their essays and apologies, I was taken aback with how much thought they had put into their work. Here are some exerpts, published with permission from their authors (as long as I keep them anonymous). On respect for parental authority the youngest of the two wrote:

You can see your parents like your boss at work. They tell you what to do and you must obey. But instead of paying you with money, they pay you with love. Another difference is that you will never get fired. In other words, they will always love you no matter what you do.

On personal integrity, the oldest of the two wrote (I really wish I could quote the entire essay, it’s that good):

Integrity. The first image that comes to mind is that of a brick wall. Solidly built, unshakeable and most of all, strong. Every component, every brick, is held together by mortar. Remove a brick and the wall isn’t complete. Remove the mortar and the wall doesn’t hold.

Personal human integrity isn’t all that different. Your values are the bricks, held together by honesty, your mortar. Without your values, your wall of integrity isn’t complete. Without honesty, your bricks will not hold together.

Giving them an essay topic allowed us to put the emphasis on the lesson we wanted the children to learn. The grounding and removal of priviledges were tools to make sure that the children had the time and leisure to work on their essays and also provided motivation for finishing the essays in a timely fashion. I am now thinking of using essays as a gateway for earning more priviledges. For instance, before allowing your child/teen to have a Facebook page, you could ask for a short essay (500 words is very manageable for a 10-12 year-old child) on data mining or online privacy protection or cyber-bullying. Making your teens do the research and writing will always beat a lecture, take it from me.

Teenagers: Learning from their mistakes pt 1

January 24, 2012January 24, 2012 ~ Veronique ~ 1 Comment

If I title a post on parenting teenagers “Learning from their mistakes” you may think that the post will be about getting teenagers to learn from their mistakes. But I’m not so delusional as to give you such hope: I have to assume that teenagers learn from their mistakes because I once was a teenager, I learned from my mistakes, and I am a relatively well adjusted adult. Beyond that, beats me. No, the title of this post refers to what I — the parent — am learning from disciplining my teens in the great adventure of parenting.

When my four oldest children were little, countless well-meaning strangers told me to enjoy them while they were young because once they hit the teenage years it would be all downhill from there. I was never afraid of the teenage years however. I had a happy teenage-hood. I remember getting along well with my parents and my siblings. I had no interest in drugs and alcohol and I had no major academic issues (I had no clue about anything mathematics or scientific but I did get my high school diploma. This suggests that I had enough of a clue to pass whatever it was I had to pass. But it’s still a mystery.) My experience chatting with other parents is that the amount of fear a parent feels toward their children’s upcoming teenage years is directly proportional to the amount of grief they gave their own parents as teenagers. Call it cosmic payback.

Now that we are more firmly rooted in teenage-dom with each passing year (we have two card-carrying teenagers with a third one coming up the pipe) I can say that parenting teenagers — so far — has been an experience in mixed emotions. It’s in equal parts more fun, challenging and infuriating than parenting young children.

It’s more fun because teenagers have a sense of humour. They are quirky, they love a good joke and their malleable brain seems to have an infinite capacity to memorize skits and one-liners. It’s easy to laugh with them (and sometimes at them…). Their sense of humour if often dark and off-kilter and if you don’t take yourself too seriously — because they can give it as well as they take it — you can be in for a good time. I also find that my teenagers are keen observers of human nature without the politically correct varnish that develops with age. A varnish is not always a bad thing but sometimes I wish I still had the ability to call a spade a spade the way my teens do.

It’s more challenging because the stakes are higher. Higher stakes mean that you are under pressure to make the right discipline call at the right time. What do I mean by that? When raising young children, you often make discipline calls that are either bone-headed or counter-productive. Have you ever spanked a child in anger? Hit a child for hitting a sibling? Flew off the handle after catching a liar? Great. Now your child is learning that hitting is a good way to blow off steam, hitting is a good response to injury and that his lying skills need improvement. The consequences of those bad discipline calls are mild. Unless you repeat them regularly over several years, they won’t make your child into violent liar. If the balance of your parenting is loving and forgiving you’ll get another kick at the can in a few days. But teenagers can make mistakes that will hunt them for the rest of their lives: get pregnant, flunk high school and crash a car full of friends. Even if your concerns are of a lesser order of magnitude — as mine are, thank God — you still need to be on the ball and ready to roll. Your teen is flunking high school math because he couldn’t be bothered? Sure you can take his iPod away for a week. He still flunked math. And closed the door to every paycheque-friendly faculty, like engineering, medicine, business, dentistry, you name it! I don’t want my teens to learn a life-lesson from flunking math and science out of sheer laziness: I want them to succeed. If they decide to get an English major, it won’t be because nobody else would let them in. Get it? Stakes, higher.

It’s more frustrating because teens push your buttons at a more adult level and really bring you face to face with your shortcomings as a parent. When you lose your “composure” at a 3 year-old, they still come to you for comfort. When you fly off the handle and start ranting at a teenager (two big teenage no-nos, don’t ask me how I know), they think you’re a loser. (Now, if you have done your job right up to this point, your teenagers will know better than to tell you to your face — although my son has been known to exhibit a death wish in that regard: the kid has no filter.) What really rounds-up the challenging and frustrating parts is the well-documented fact that teens really think that they have reached the apogee of knowledge and good judgement. Now, if you reach the apogee of knowledge and good judgement at 15, and the only way from an apogee is down, you can imagine where, in a teen’s mind, the parent is situated on the apogee-to-perigee-continuum: it takes 15 years to get to the top, and it’s all downhill from there, and you are say, almost 40, it means that you’ve been on a downward trajectory from knowledge and good judgement for, like… (40 – 15 = uh…) 25-ish years, rounded-up to the nearest brain fart.

Teenagers challenge, push buttons and seek out limits. Sometimes, you will blow it as a parent and they will let you know. But sometimes you will be right… and they will still challenge, push buttons and explain to you why you are wrong, wrong, wrong. The high-wire number is to know when to stand firm and when to go hat in hand apologize for your mistakes. The first thing I learned from parenting teens is to take a step back and take a deep breath. Unless your child is at the police station right now it never hurts to put a little time between you and an issue (and even then, spending the night in prison might not be an entirely bad thing…). The second lesson I learned, which flows from the first one, is to lower your voice, ideally to the point where you are not saying any words. It never hurts to hear a teenager’s grievance. Sometimes they may be right! Just don’t confuse listening with arguing or agreeing. For instance, we have a strict, unbending and controversial no-sleepover rule. This is not popular with my oldest daughter. Listening to her grievance and why we are wrong, wrong, wrong will not make me agree with her. Nor will I argue for the zillionth time why this is so. But it doesn’t hurt to sit down and hear her out. Again.

In part 2 of this post,I will tell you about a discipline tool I took too long to get out of the toolbox: the essay.

Yoga pants

December 7, 2011 ~ Veronique ~ 1 Comment

My oldest daughter is 15. Last weekend, her school band teacher organized a music retreat complete with master classes, section sessions and the dreaded sleepover. Her band teacher is excellent. The music program at her school is top notch. When I go to their concerts I always get all choked-up: I have excellent memories of high school music class. We also had a few “music retreats” although there wasn’t much music during our nuit blanche. They were strictly a team building exercise where much nerdy fun was had. In my days, only the nerds played music. Now it’s cool. At bed time we would pull blue mats out of the gymnasium’s storage unit and crash all co-ed on the floor. Two male teachers, music and English, would sleep over and we would all head to the greasy spoon next door first thing in the morning for some bacon and eggs. I’m sure the teachers had some coffee too.

(Open parenthesis: weren’t those the days eh? When two male teachers could supervise a mixed sleepover party at school? Now, at my kids’ elementary school a few years ago, the custodian was the only male staff. Everyone else was female. My 2nd-grader would come home literally groaning in pain from needing to go pee day after day. One day on the drive home I told him: “Why don’t you go pee just before the end of class? This way you can make it home”. He answered that he never went to the toilet at school because the stalls didn’t lock properly and the older kids would barge in and pull you out as you did your business. Nice. I went and talked to someone about it and was told that this was going on in the male bathroom and there was no male staff to enforce discipline in the male bathroom. In other words, unless the custodian was handy, those kids could have been snorting cocaine in the boys bathroom, no female teacher would dare walk in there and chance a disciplinary hearing. That’s brat power for you. Close parenthesis)

As far as team-building goes, this may sound self-serving in light of what’s coming later in this post, the sleepovers were fun but nothing more. Massed bands concerts and band competitions, when we got to work, anticipate and sweat together were far more instrumental in building team spirit than watching scary movies and eating chips late in the night in band class. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter whether this was the be-all-end-all of team building because our family has a strict rule against sleepovers in any way, shape or form. Our daughter was going to participate in the music retreat but be excused from the sleeping part. I’ll let you guess how this went over.

I will not replay the (many) conversations we had with our daughter on the subject but they replayed themselves on a call-in show following the decision by a local high school to — as it was reported — ban yoga pants as part of the school’s dress code.

One of my daughter’s complaint on the unfairness of the sleepover rule was that parents would be supervising the retreat and that everybody else was allowing it. A local call-in show was asking parents what they thought of the yoga pants ban and spray-painted-on apparel. One after the other, parents were repeating variations of the same platitudes about how “Teens are gonna do what teens are gonna do” and “We did the same thing at their age”. In other words, there is nothing we can do about it. Girls are going to wear inappropriate, revealing, clothing and boys are going to be turned-on by it and that’s the way the world goes round. Banning yoga pants is not going to change anything so why bother? And I’m supposed to feel all warm and fuzzy that some of these similar-themed parents are supervising the sleepover retreat? So when Jimmy and Jessica decide to go find a quiet spot somewhere will they brush it off as “Teens are gonna do what teens are gonna do” and “We did the same thing at their age”?

Being a teenager is not an end-state. It’s a transition to adulthood. I often joke that toddlers and teenagers are surprisingly similar: self-centered with poor impulse-control, an unrefined sense of fairness and a complete unawareness of their limitations. Teenagers have one foot still firmly set into childhood and the other in their future. Teens will challenge and push limits, this is their job. But if pushing is the defining feature of teenage-hood we are not helping them by removing what they are pushing against. Growing into adulthood and responsibilities is not learning to live without limits but learning to manage them. As a parent, my job is to form and to educate and this is achieved by giving teenagers something to push against, like a tutor on a tomato plant. And of course, as teenagers grow in age and wisdom and as they show their judgement to be trustworthy, limits gradually evolve. Some of them are removed, others morph into something else. And others will remain for the rest of their lives, hopefully.

I am not raising teens. I am raising adults. It takes a lot of work, self-awareness and constant re-evaluation. Some days I suck at it. But this is the game of parenthood. Play ball.