Penni Drysdale - P Plate Parenting

It’s not often that I will become anything close to animated after 8:30pm, but a certain Can of Worms did the job last week. Is it okay to smack your children?

We were smacked by our father and whether it is because of this or just plain common sense and morality stepping in, I am not a smacker myself. We were ‘punished’/'taught a lesson’ with all kinds of implements, including a bat tennis bat and wooden spoon. We had red marks to prove it. It’s interesting that I don’t recall why (surely I never did anything wrong as a child), but can clearly recall the situations in which the smacking took place. More so, I recall the emotions - largely fear and resentment. I don’t recall thinking, ‘Gosh, Daddy is right. I really did the wrong thing and because I now know that it was the wrong thing (thanks to my pounding heart and stinging thigh), I won’t do it again.’

I didn’t learn right from wrong because I was smacked – I learned, somewhat, to shut my mouth and do the ‘right thing’ for fear of the painful consequences. I learned that a parent could inflict physical pain and no one would stand up for me. I learned that talking was more risky than constructive…at the time. As an adult I have responded by avoiding getting ‘physical’ with my kids (the fleeting satisfaction from the release of pent up frustration or anger slides swiftly into a sickening guilt) and being big on communication and fair treatment. I also teach my kids that adults don’t always do or say the right thing.

What are we teaching our kids when we ‘smack’ them? We implore them to use their words rather than to bite or hit out or scream, and yet we use our hands to gain control or communicate. And as Josh suggested on the show, what do you do when your 16 year old realises that he can ‘smack’ back and is big enough to do so? Is it okay to hit someone to get the response that you want or to communicate to our kids that adults are allowed to be rough with kids simply because they are adults?

‘Lazy parenting’, is what our dear Dicko suggested, and I tend to agree. Sure, talking to and desperately attempting to reason with a young or not so young child can be exceedingly frustrating and time consuming and a smack would sure as hell get the ‘message’ across more swiftly, but once again, I come back to what message? Let me suggest ‘hypocracy’ and ‘control’.

What harm is a little smack on the hand? Start at the top.

Comment on this post

I suck at being sociable. It’s a wonder I still have contacts outside of my humble abode. I’m not readily available, I’m chronically fatigued and unable to construct a coherent thought in less than an hour. And that’s when the kids are not in tow.

Clipped sentences and insincere conversational fillers are not uncommon, which sits uncomfortably with me. I am a person who demands the full attention of my listener and I have a severely acute ear and eye for the slightest distraction or inattention. Do it properly, or politely inform me that you’re not in the slightest bit interested/too busy/too tired/too rude to genuinely engage at that time. Don’t pretend to listen or care – you’re wasting my time. A high standard, perhaps, and a little unattainable for anyone who enters my conversational realm.  And now here I am, being that hopeless conversationalist, forever distracted by myself or my kids.

But can I let you in on a little secret? For a social hack like myself, this is where one of the benefits of having kids comes in. Desperate to escape an awkward moment or dead-boring conversation? Oops! There he goes! Better go rescue him (and me) before he throws himself over the edge! Too tired or simply reluctant to attend an event?  Sorry, the kids aren’t well and I really ought not to shower you in their sticky, highly contagious germs – only thinking of you! Keen to remove guests from your lounge as the clock ticks towards crazy hour? Just disappear into the kitchen and start banging pots and pans together, mumbling a little too loudly about getting dinner ready for the kids. Or disappear down the hallway and run the bath, throwing plastic toys under the stream of tepid water for extra effect. You get the point.

So, in anticipation of our next interaction, this social hack sends her apologies…either way.

Comment on this post

A wise woman recently reminded me that it takes a village to raise a child. Another equally wise woman referred to it as a ‘community’. Either way, you get the point.

Children need a variety of influences in their lives; people other than their parents to guide them, make them laugh and look out for them. People to spoil them, loosen the reigns a little and smother them with hugs and kisses.

My point is that it also takes a village to support parents. No one will argue with a parent who acknowledges just how demanding and exhausting parenting is (and if they dare try, send them my way). It’s relentless. It’s wearing, and there are times, many of them, when an extra pair of hands are most welcome – someone to give you a break from this 24 hour a day, volunteer work. It might come in the form of practical assistance (some help with the grocery shopping, an offer to do some dusting or gardening); it could be an offer to mind the kids while you get on with all of those tasks that just never seem to get done. It might be an offer to have the kids for a night so that you and your partner can sleep peacefully and get up when your own body clock, rather  than that of your child, tells you to. Small things, simple things. Sanity-saving things.

It takes a village. We get run-down, squint through the fog and reach the end of our tethers, and we wonder why. Some parents have a wide, or small but dedicated community around them. Are they the lucky ones, or just examples of how it ought to be? Has the concept and existence of ‘community’ changed? Are we expected to shoulder much more of the burden than we used to, or are we just a more whingey parental bunch than our hard-working, uncomplaining older generations?

Whether you refer to it as a village or community, it’s about support and assistance. Stuff that makes survival that little bit easier; stuff that keeps sanity within reach.

Comment on this post

When it comes to being a parent, respect is a rather important issue. But what is respect and how do you get it?

I, perhaps naively, assumed that my role as a parent would be enough to ensure that my kids treated me with respect. You know, treat me just that little bit better than a cheeky chook in the backyard or a sticky tape dispenser that just won’t release the tape. I thought that my position meant that I didn’t have to earn respect, because I was simply entitled to it. Wrong.

This sounds strange, even to me, for I was raised to respect my parents and other adults…wasn’t I? But here I dig, and discover that there is a difference between respecting and submissing; being respected and being in control.

Controlling your kids makes life a hell of a lot easier and less embarrassing. Other parents may compliment you on your well behaved, polite children, making you beam with pride. It feels good. But whilst achieving a sociably acceptable outcome feels good, does quieting your young one with threats of punishment, with evil glares or pinches on bare arms or legs achieve respect? Does this child respect his parents or fear consequences?

My latest challenge with the Big Boy and his ‘lack of respect’ for me (as demonstrated by a blatant disregard for polite requests to PLEASE STOP COPYING WHAT I’M SAYING!!!) is really playing on my discomfort with being disrespected. Or is it the control freak in me, screaming out for the reigns? Does authority and control breed respect? I think not.

So whilst it is easy to get tougher, more demanding, threatening and punishing, it may in fact not have the desired outcome…in the long run. Respect is not borne out of fear and submission, nor is it a given. Respect is borne out of modelling the desired behaviours and attitudes; rewarding and encouraging; being honest and listening carefully; being genuine, loving, patient and respectful.

If I have one wish as a parent, it is not to have children who are obedient or ‘successful’, but to have children who respect me. And so I continue to work on earning it.

Comment on this post

My Big Boy used to groan with boredom when the ad breaks appeared, asking how many minutes until his show came back on. Then he started to pay attention to ads with a catchy tune or beat, or even just something repetitive - AAMI’s ‘What about me?’ ad and ‘O O O…O’Brien!’ could (and still do) cause him to put a pause on Lego building or crazy thrashing around the lounge room. Insurance is innocent enough, and not highly relevant at this stage, so no real concern there. But lately things have shifted again as my spongey preschooler is drawn into the evil world of advertising.

I have always been proud of the fact that my Big Boy has a pretty healthy diet. He doesn’t drink, or even like, anything other than milk or water. Offer him a ‘fizzy drink’ or cordial and he screws up his face. Manage to get some past his lips and he spits it out in disgust. In his four and a half years he has only ever had the Golden Arches on two occasions, and even then, he thinks it’s a cafe called ‘Old MacDonalds’ (we don’t tell him the name, for fear of an addiction). Nup, he’s a boy of simple taste who has largely remained oblivious to the evils of fast food. But lately?

“Ooo, I love this ad. Mum, can we make one of them tonight?”
It’s the Hungry Jacks ad featuring a brekkie wrap – a hideous looking thing with rubbery egg, bacon and a patty professing to be meat. Also showing during this 20 seconds of evil is a cappuccino, complete with chocolate dusting.
“What is it that you like about it?”
“I just like it. It looks yummy.”
“But what about it looks yummy?”
“The chocolate sprinkles.”
“So you don’t like the look of the food?”
“Yeah, that looks yummy too. Can we make it?”

I silently curse Hungry Jacks and their advertising people. They got him on the chocolate dusting and made him think that he wants a breakfast wrap! I also curse KFC and their chicken burger, to which Big Boy responded with the same request about making ‘one of those’… BUT, I shouldn’t complain too much, because he isn’t asking to ‘go there’, just to ‘make one’.  So we made a delicious, healthy chicken burger last week and he loved it. Ha! Evil advertisers of evil fast food, I think I’m still on top of you. But I do sense that we’re turning a corner and any day soon he will be asking to have, make, consume, borrow or visit anything that appears on TV. I guess that’s when the TV gets thrown out, along with all catalogues. Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it?

Comment on this post