The thing about threats is that you have to follow through with them. I mean you don’t have to follow through. You could threaten away until you are blue in the face and the only result would be children who don’t take you seriously.
Seriously? That would be bad.
I told T.Puzzle and Full Speed I would take them out to dinner only with good reports from school. They both succeeded. I was golden. My clean kitchen would remain intact and I would get something to eat I didn’t have to prepare.
Yet…
Full Speed decided to fake hit me at some point because I made him mad. Yeah, that’s his new thing. Fake hitting Mommy.
This is when I imagine fake locking him in his room until he’s eighteen or stops fake hitting me.
Instead I said he blew it. Even though both boys earned the privilege of dinner out, the privilege was now officially off the table.
When all was said and done, I tried to fake clean my kitchen after the dinner I had to prepare against my will.
Like nails on a chalkboard. That’s the only way I can describe T.Puzzle’s onslaught of questions concerning his assorted punishments. I picked him up from school and when it was time to go, he decided that he wasn’t in the mood. He dragged his sorry self down the hallway and folded into a heap of sorrow about half-way down. I informed him that he would lose his crocs for tomorrow and would be sent to his room when we returned home. He screamed at top volume all the way home. This only lengthened the amount of time he would be spending in his room, expedited his bedtime hour and contributed to a loss of his other privileges.
After I managed to get Full Speed off to tae kwon do with Mad Dog, I allowed a seemingly defeated T.Puzzle to come to the table for dinner.
“Why can’t I have my Thomas (the Train) color book?”
“Why can’t I have my animals?”
“Why can’t I have my crocs?”
“Why can’t I have a treat?”
“Why can’t I watch TV?”
“Why can’t I stay up late?”
“Why? Why? Why?”
I tried to ignore him, but my ears couldn’t take it. Not after all the high-volume screaming they had already endured. I tried to tell him to be quiet. I tried to calmly explain the reasons for the loss of his privileges.
Among close friends and family I am considered a bit of a drill sergeant when it comes to discipline. My decisions on structure and punishment are based on the temperaments of my boys. They are extremely assertive, directive, confident and obstinately stubborn. If I don’t establish my role as an authority figure now, where will I be in five years? How about ten?
Disciplining is not fun. A lot of the rules I make are very unpopular.
For the most part my diligence to rules and consequences has paid off. It’s been exhausting and even harrowing at times, but it seems to have set a good foundation for my boys.
I need to take it to the next level. Full Speed and T.Puzzle follow rules fairly well. It’s their respect of authority that needs some tweaking. They apparently did not get them memo that they are children. Therefore other adults, including myself, are not their peers.
To achieve a stronger sense of authority with my boys I put some new rules in place.
They are pretty simple really. If Full Speed gives me what we refer to as a ‘stinky face’ he goes to bed before little T.Puzzle.
Stinky Face in the house!
If little T.Puzzle tells me ‘no!’ to any of my requests throughout the day, he loses the privilege of wearing his beloved crocs for a day.
The real kickers are my rules about sibling expectations. Anyone who comes to me to complain or report of a fight gets sent to their room, as well as their brother, for five minutes. It doesn’t matter who starts it, who does what or who tells on whom. Both boys are sent off with no trial and no questions. If this happens three times in one day they lose their privilege of a show and and a treat.
Let me tell you, Full Speed is not happy. He has already informed me that my new rules are ‘too hard!’ and ‘that he doesn’t want to be in this family anymore’.
One of the most challenging tenets of motherhood is to learn that it’s not my job to make my kids happy. It’s to make them be responsible for themselves and their actions.
Wish me luck! Now that I’ve publicly posted this for all two of you to read, I guess I have to stick to my guns. Anyone happen to have that Betty Ford number on hand by the way?
Rules are hard. First time-out of the day for a sibling infraction. It was only 7 a.m.
I was home alone with the boys for the evening. It was going okay. I had taken them to the park to run some energy out so I think that helped. It didn’t help that they kept trying to knock each other’s glasses off each other’s faces, but the release of energy was good.
During dinner, they both started to get kind of sassy. Instead of finishing his plate like I asked, Full Speed tossed his unfinished food on the floor. The kicker is, he tried to claim he was ‘all done!’ I was praising him left and right until my eye caught the discarded food. I was not too pleased. Then, Little T.Puzzle decided not to sit still and eat his turkey. He had to be ‘coached’ considerably to finish his food while sitting nicely.
As I was preparing the boys for the end-of-the-day bath, they started to get very rambunctious (shocker, isn’t it?). I gave them my spiel that they had to follow the rules of the tub (sort of like the rules of the road but soapier). The first brother who broke a rule would have to immediately go to bed.
You know the rules were broken even before I wrote this, didn’t you? All little T.Puzzle did was toss a ball at his brother’s head. It didn’t even really hit Full Speed and I don’t even think Full Speed realized what happened. As much as I didn’t want to, I had to follow through on my threat for this slight infraction.
I grab him from the tub and tell him it’s bedtime. He sobs uncontrollably and says he’s ‘sorry!’ over and over. Big tears splash down his face and do nothing to quell his wails of torment. I put his pjs on him, brush his teeth and place him in bed. He proceeds to lament for the next twenty minutes. A very long twenty minutes I might add.
Eventually, I go upstairs and convince him to calm down. I explain that he needs to make good choices, listen to his Mommy and that tomorrow will be a better day. He quiets himself but seems incredulous that tomorrow will be better (especially with a Mom who is so ‘mean’).
I sure hope tomorrow is better, or that at least it produces fewer tears for all of us.
Full Speed has this silly way of talking (it seems most of his classmates, especially the boys, talk this way, too) that borders on being disrespectful. It’s hard to describe but if you personally know a five year old boy, you know exactly what I mean. I keep working with him to have a balance of off-kilter, sing-songy phrasing and keeping the content acceptable (no name-calling, using toilet-related vocabulary and the like). He gets one warning if the content veers into inapproriate territory and then he goes to time-out.
As we were getting the boys ready for Saturday Tae Kwon Do, Full Speed slips up and I give him his warning. In the truck on the way there, he does it again. When we are parked, I send Mad Dog and little T.Puzzle on their way and Full Speed has to stay behind for his time-out.
He was absolutely fuming at me. I stood outside the truck and made a big production of looking at my watch to time him. His eyes are shooting daggers. With his steely glance locked on mine, he gives the seat in front of him a good, swift kick. I lean in and tell him if he kicks again, I start time-out all over. This angers him more.
To get back at me he looks me straight in the eyes and… starts hitting his own seat.
I had to turn around and not look at him at all. I didn’t want him to see me laughing (that’s so I don’t cry).
Oh, that Full Speed. Next time I’ll clarify not to kick or hit in a similar circumstance. You know it’s almost guaranteed he’ll start head-butting something.
