It's Time

Flash Back to October 2008: 

Historically speaking, Mouse and I have always struggled with time-limited transitions. Once engaged in an activity she enjoys, Mouse fights redirection harder than a drunk in a conga line. Requests to come to the table or to get ready to leave for school have been known to either fall on deaf ears or be met with ear-splitting rage. Most of the time, it's the former; lately it's the latter.

For both our sakes I've invoked the marble jars: a full one for me; an empty one for her. Every time she pleasantly stops what she's doing to do something that must happen immediately, a marble moves from my jar to hers. Once her jar is full, she's decided we'll all go to Parc de la Grange, a park in the city, for an afternoon snack and play.

Twenty-four hours in, we've both made excellent progress. Mouse is getting credit for all her pleasant transitions, even those that may have gone unrecognized in the past. I figure that in a week I will have lost all my marbles. Better figuratively than literally!

Now, I wonder if this would work on the Captain?

Two weeks later...

It's been an interesting almost two weeks and I'm down to 16 marbles from 45--excellent progress considering we've just come off of a week's holiday with few, if any, time constraints. The words, 'supper's ready,' are now consistently followed by a singsong-y, "Okay, Mommy!" from Mouse. That's not to say she immediately drops what she's doing, but it's a huge improvement over the ear-splitting 'no's' of yore. Even Emma's jumped into the fray, insisting on an empty jar of her own. To be truthful, I hesitated at first. After all, I perceived Emma to be a transition champion, particularly at mealtimes when Mouse was at her worst. But in the end I caved. Why not? There were only marbles to lose.

Here's a fly-on-the-wall perspective of the marbles in action:

Emma the Brave comes into the kitchen after having brushed her teeth before bed. Mouse is still dawdling, singing to herself instead of doing her bedtime washing up. As Emma brings our jars to the table, Mouse snaps back into reality and runs to bathroom to finish getting ready.

Earlier in the evening I'd listed the specific instances when I'd said, "It's time..." during the day and posted them on the kitchen chalk board:

• leaving for school in the morning
  
• leaving for school after lunch
• turning off the video
• bath time
• dinner time
• getting ready for bed

I show Emma what I've written and within seconds she's read it and done the math. "I get six marbles," she says, reaching for my jar.

"Not so fast," I say, sliding my jar away. "Let's go through them one by one. How did you do at leaving for school in the morning?"

"Good," she says.

I nod and hold up one finger. "And after lunch?"

"Good again."

Two fingers. "You're right. How about turning off the video?"

Emma holds up a hand, palm down, and rocks it back and forth. "Not so good."

"I would agree." She'd been really enjoying Lazy Town. It took multiple requests for her to turn it off after her one episode had finished. "And bath time?"

"Good." Three fingers.

"And the last two?"

"Good and good," she says and helps herself to five marbles.

At this point Mouse pads into the kitchen. "Now me," she says.

Mouse and I go through the same procedure as I'd done with Emma. In the end, she gets five out of a possible six marbles, having missed one thanks to her after dinner dawdle which comes as no surprise. With their marbles safely tucked away, the two compare notes and are relieved to discover that, in the end, they were the same, at least in the marble department.

There's a lot I like about this experiment in parenting. It demands that I be clear about my requests and pick my battles. There are times when I am open to negotiation and times when I'm not. These times are now far more clearly divided. It also allows the girls and I to reflect back on our day together, accounting for all successes and opportunities for improvement in a calm and relatively objective manner. Last but not least, it ensures the Captain and I are on the same page in the expectations department. Nothing undermines child-rearing faster than a weak link in the parental chain.

So here's the question: do I keep up with the marble jars once they earn their reward? We'll see. If so, I'll have to get bigger jars or smaller marbles. They're just getting to damn good.

The Seven Month Check-up

Emma and Mouse come into the kitchen where I'm elbow deep in a chicken.There isn't a marble in sight. "Mommy, we have a problem."

"What is it?" The pair are looking serious, but not distressed. 

Mouse nudges Emma to continue. "You make us stop playing with our friends at 5 o'clock [to do chores and homework], but some of our friends only get home from daycare at five."

"Hmm... That's true. Do you have a solution?"

Emma and Mouse give each other another serious look before Emma continues. "If we did our chores earlier, can we play with our friends until later?"

I thought about it as I washed my hands. They had a point and a reasonable solution. 

"Alright. Let's say you can play until 5:30 as long as homework and chores are done.  That gives you the chance to play with your buddies, but still some quiet time at home before dinner. Deal?" I offer my hand to shake on it.

Emma and Mouse look at each other and smile.

"Deal."

"Deal!"

They've taken this transition thing to a whole new level. Now they're training me!

Podcasts for Parents

When I was eight years old my parents and I lived in a bungalow just outside Detroit, Michigan. My bedroom carpet was lavender and threadbare, but went nicely with the flower print wallpaper and bedspread I'd chosen. My best friend's name was Leslie and we were both in Mrs. Gerrity's third grade class. We both wanted Mrs. Cornet for fourth grade even though she scared us to death. This is how I remember a lot of my childhood: token details that have somehow stuck around despite all the experiences that have been layered on since.  But how did I make decisions or solve problems? How did I perceive myself and others? To be honest, I can't be sure and in that I'm not alone. 

In the sidebar you will note a new addition: the RSS feed for one of my favourite child psychotherapists, Rachel Melville-Thomas, who has a weekly program called Kids in Mind on World Radio Switzerland. Topics covered have included materialism, fighting aggression, coping with illness and bullying. Podcasts run approximately 20 minutes and are worth every second of your time. Even better, they're free. 

If you know of any other parenting podcasts worth listening to, please leave a comment. The Creative Parent wants to know. 

Dress for the Weather

"Do I look pretty?"

Mouse has entered the kitchen wearing a bright red sun dress with spaghetti straps.  Outside it's pouring rain and a chilly 10˚C at best. 

"You look lovely, but have you noticed the weather?"  Puddles are forming on yesterday's sidewalk chalk masterpieces.  "I think it's too cold for that dress, sweetie. 

"But I like it!"

"So do I.  Let's save it for tomorrow." 

"No."

"Do you need help choosing a warmer outfit or can you do it by yourself?"

Mouse crosses her arms in front of her. "By myself."

Spring and Fall are prime times for discussions like this. Kids love predictability and the weather is simply not cooperating.  Here's a solution I'm about to put to the test:

More than a few times I've explained these guidelines to Mouse, but she continues to struggle.  I'm hoping a nice visual — paired with a real-time weather report — will make things more clear and turn her into a mini meteorologist with fashion sense.  We'll see.  Below you will find links to download your own template. I've left them blank so you can set your own guidelines or perhaps sketch in pictures for really little ones who can't yet read.  

Download Dress for the Weather in Celcius here.

Download Dress for the Weather in Fahrenheit here. 

If you decide to try one out let me know how it goes.  Mouse can't be the only kid bucking Mother Nature these days.

Expert Advice

If you were going to buy a book on parenting tomorrow, which one would it be? Here are few I'm considering for the Creative Parent Book Club.  Vote for one or more of these in the side bar or make a suggestion of your own in the comments. The most popular choice will be discussed next month.  

The New Strong-Willed Child by Dr. James C. Dobson 

1-2-3 Magic: Effective Discipline for Children Ages 2-12 by Thomas W. Phelan Ph. D.

How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk by Adele Faber & Elaine Mazlish

Setting Limits with Your Strong-Willed Child by Robert J. Mackenzie Ed. D.

Sleepless in America by Mary Sheedy Kurchinka

House Rules

"No balls in the house."

"No playing with the wedding china."

"No peeing in the dog dish."

If you spend any amount of time around children, I guarantee you'll have to enforce rules of conduct that you never knew you had.  Kids are curious, adventurous, playful and persistent, all to varying degrees.  While limits are an inevitable part of childhood — there's only so much you can do when you're 3' 6" and can't drive — it's only natural kids will challenge their boundaries. Unlike bars on a cage, limits of acceptable behavior are often not visible or rigid. They can change depending on the time of day, the environment or what grown up is in the room and such subtleties are not lost on our perceptive little progeny. What can make things that much more fuzzy is when we grown ups aren't clear about why we've set a limit in the first place.  This sets up the negotiation playing field, parent on one side and child on the other, a game that will continue until the child finds the real limit or the end of their parent's patience, which ever comes first. 

Two Kinds of Rules

In our home, rules fall into two basic categories: safety-driven or value-driven. Safety-driven rules are, by far, the easiest to express and enforce. Helmets on heads is the rule. No helmet, no bike is the consequence. On the other hand, value-driven rules invite a grey zone that becomes a parent's true test of clarity.  Here's a prime example offered up by one reader: how often is too often for my 5½ year-old to visit the next door neighbors? Once a day? Twice? What if the ball goes over the fence and the visit(s) of the day already happened? Then what? One can imagine that a scenario like this poses a field day for a pint-sized master negotiator. Depending on the parent, the kid and the neighbor, an acceptable outcome to this dilemma is up for grabs. The key, on the parent's side of the fence, is to get abundantly clear about what value is driving this to be an issue for them and their child.  Here is just one possibility:

Value: Privacy

A person's home is their private place, a place where they go when they want quiet time and comfort. While that's not to say that we can't ring their bell and say hello, doing so again and again is an invasion of their time and space. 

So, if this is the underlying value and said child still wants to pay the neighbor a visit, what should the limit be? Again, that's negotiable, but if you decide it to be one visit to say hello by the front door, then stick to it. If the ball goes over the fence, of course ask for it back. If it happens again, perhaps it should stay there until the next day's visit.  And what if the little ragamuffin sneaks off next door without your knowledge? Well, they've ventured into the non-negotiable territory of safety-driven rules with a set of consequences all of their own. 

Plan for Success

That said, it's a lot easier to praise than punish, so make sure you plan for success. How and when are you going to celebrate your child learning to respect a new limit? Immediate praise is great, but developing a new habit takes time and reinforcement. One easy way is to make a chart. For each day they keep to the rule in question, give them a smiley, a sticker or some other indicator that they've 'done good.' Decide on goal and a reward.  For instance, if they keep to one visit per day for seven days, promise a trip to their favorite park with a friend. Most importantly, when they reach the goal, make sure they understand what value they've mastered.   "Wow, you really learned how to respect Mr. Malloy's privacy. Way to go!"  Not all limits need such drastic measures, but if you find you're repeating yourself, that's a pretty good indicator that it's time to get creative. 

The Healthy Snack Café

If 'necessity' is the mother of invention, I'd be willing to bet that 'utter frustration' is the father. Allow me to illustrate :

Act 1: The Status Quo

MOM is surrounded by seemingly endless health claims when child enters.

CHILD: Mommy?
MOM: (still studying her Excel spreadsheet) Yes?
CHILD: I'm hungry.
MOM: (stalling against the inevitable) You are?
CHILD: Can I have a snack?
MOM: (standing up) Sure. What would you like? An apple? Some cheese?"
CHILD: I don't like cheese.
MOM: Since when?
CHILD: Since always.
MOM: Well, how about an apple?
CHILD: I don't want an apple.
MOM: Then what do you want?
CHILD: Crackers.
MOM: Alright, crackers it is.

Five minutes pass. MOM goes back to her spreadsheet.

CHILD: I'm still hungry. Can I have some popcorn?
MOM: (resisting the temptation to offer cheese again) You need to choose either a fruit or a vegetable.
CHILD: Corn's a vegetable.
MOM: Actually, it's a grain. How 'bout a carrot?

At this point CHILD walks to the refrigerator, opens it and stares blankly for a few minutes. MOM cringes as bottles in the door start to bead with condensation.

MOM: Please close the refrigerator.
CHILD: But I'm looking.
MOM: Yes, but I'm getting goose bumps.
CHILD: Fine.

CHILD reaches in, snatches something, then closes the fridge quickly, keeping her back to MOM.

MOM: What did you choose?

CHILD reluctantly turns around to display her selection: chocolate pudding.

MOM: Pudding is not a healthy snack; it's a dessert. Put it back, please.

CHILD returns the pudding to the fridge, slams the door shut, then slumps into a kitchen chair.

CHILD: There's nothing to eat.
MOM: How about that apple?
CHILD: (pause) Alright... Can you slice it?
MOM: Please?
CHILD: (sigh) Please.
MOM: You got it.

Sound familiar? Here's my latest solution:

Act 2: The Healthy Snack Cafe Opens for Business

MOM is filing rejected health claims when CHILD enters.

CHILD: I'm hungry.
MOM: Let's see if the Healthy Snack Café is open.
CHILD: Oh yeah!

CHILD runs ahead to the kitchen where she studies the Café menu*. 

Said menu is divided into three parts: Grains, Fruits and Vegetables, and Proteins. A 'healthy snack' includes something from each.**

*The management cannot guarantee all items will be in stock at all times.
**Any customer with poor manners will be refused.

MOM: So, what will it be?
CHILD: Crackers with hummus and a plum, please.

MOM and CHILD go on to make the snack together in peace.

Want your own Healthy Snack Café menu? 

Download it here. 

Welcome

Allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Melissa Miller and I am a writer, wife and mother with a passion for creative parenting.  

The Captain and I became parents eight years ago, when our first daughter, Emma, was born. Like a lot of new parents, I was overwhelmed by the new responsibility and desperately sought out resources to help make sense of every coo and cry. As Emma got older and her sister, Mouse, came along, new challenges came apparent as sibling rivalry entered the mix. Now, as the mother of two school-aged kids, I have the time and energy to share some of my hard-won wisdom with others and to help brainstorm solutions with you, the creative parent.  

So, if you have solution you'd like to share or dilemma in need of attention send it on. Parenting is an occupation with endless challenges and boundless rewards. Don't be afraid to ask for help — or a pat on the back.