A bit like the Mafia without the cool suits

We were having a tea party in the children’s bedroom today and Four reassigned roles so that I was her, she was me,  One was the cat and the cat was the baby (got that? There will be a quiz later.)  She put on a very posh voice and said “dahhling” a lot and told me sternly and in no uncertain terms that I was being “Bertie Bad-Manners not Gertie Good-Manners, please bring her back instead!” and that I couldn’t have any sugar in my tea, it was only for mummies. The real cat ran out the room, thus escaping any kind of wrath, but she did shout a lot at One to get off the table. I meekly tried to behave myself but found that no matter what I did I got a tremendous scolding and was exhorted to “Put your listening ears on!” or I would be banished to the naughty step. It was quite scary and not very much fun.

 

I have been plagued ever since by the worry that, as a mother, I am quite scary and not very much fun. 

I found it very easy to deal with the baby stage and the toddler years, but as Four has grown, a side of her has emerged that is very hard to deal with at times and I find myself speaking sternly to her, putting her on numerous time outs, making threats, and even physically removing her from situations when her behaviour has gotten out of hand.

Compared to what I grew up with, this is actually pretty mild, but then I grew up in a time and a society where it was common for children to be smacked (although I rarely was), shouted at, disciplined and punished by any grownup on hand, and even our teachers were allowed to hit us. This is not what I think is right or appropriate for any child, least of all my own, but on the other hand I see so much appalling behaviour by even very little kids that I wonder if we, as a society, haven’t gone too far in the other direction?

So where do we draw the line? What is the right amount of discipline and how do we position ourselves against our children so that our word is respected but they still like and love us, which seems to be the major source of worry, at least for me?

 

I note that when children are not made to feel uncomfortable at all about their actions, they will continue to do as they please – makes sense, doesn’t it?
I remember a time when I went on a walk with a friend and her child when I was hugely pregnant with One. Four (then nearly three) and the other child were running ahead of us on the path and wouldn’t stop when told to. To her credit, Four considered it, but when she saw the other child not stopping, she just couldn’t help herself and she ran on. I physically couldn’t run after her so I shouted some more and then sent the other mother to stop them before they plunged over a steep bank.  I was furious with Four and immediately put her on a time-out, explaining that she could NEVER run away from me and not stop when I said stop etc.

Three minutes.

Right there on the side of the path.

She howled and was upset, but tough. It had to be hard.
The other mother, however, handled it differently. She picked up her errant child, sat him on her lap and looked lovingly into his eyes and explained softly with a smile why he mustn’t run away from mommy because she worried. He squirmed and giggled, flirted and snuggled, clearly enjoying this close personal encounter.

After the time outs were over, we commenced our walk again and guess what?  They started to run again and when we shouted ‘Stop!”, she did, he didn’t.

Hmm. I wonder why?

 

So, is it my fate to be feared, but respected?
A bit like the mafia without the cool suits?
And dare I mention the ghastly, unspoken truth that if one’s children are horribly behaved, it’s actually harder to like them ,or for other people to like them for that matter, which is a true handicap in life.

 

I spoke to my own mother about the role-exchange tea party and my anxieties and she reassured me that as a child I was constantly bossing my menagerie of stuffed animals around, and that most children enjoy nothing more than the chance to tell grown ups what to do. She is a psychologist, herself, so I am going to go with that explanation and try not to worry myself into an early grave.

 

In the meantime we are hoping for more appearances of Gertie Good-Manners by all members of our family and to reassure everyone that we are working on a multifaceted approach to stopping the cat from jumping on the table.