regret (verb) : 1)to feel sorrow or remorse for; 2) to think of with a sense of loss.
I'm watching Supernanny. I love Jo the Supernanny. Tonight she's dealing with a poor, lost, clueless young Houston widower and his three out-of-control little boys. (All with shaven heads; they look like concentration camp kids.) One hour. Total transformation; complete healing. Screaming, biting, hitting, kicking, emotionally autistic, junk-food addicted, horrid hellions transfigured into banana-bread-baking, mom-remembering, veggie-adoring, well-disciplined little troopers.
OK. A bit unrealistic. Yet, watching Jo, she does make sense. You can see the hows and whys and what ifs.
Damn. If I'd only had had a supernanny. I didn't feel the need, actually, with Owen. I could read and he conformed to the baby books. You stuck Owen in timeout; he jumped out; you put him back; he got it: "Oh,right, here I stay." You gave him a reward chart with stickers; he thought, 'ooh stickers! nifty-keen!'; he performed accordingly. But then came Hugh. You stuck Hugh in timeout; he jumped out; you put him back; he jumped out; you put him back; he jumped out; you put him back; he jumped out; you put him back; he jumped out; you put him back; and on and on and on until you're screaming and you realize you're about to throw Hugh out the window. You gave Hugh a reward chart with stickers; he thought, 'who gives a shit about stickers?' and careened on to his next act of destruction. So, given the data at hand, I concluded, umm, ok, timeouts and reward charts don't work with this kid. Umm, now what?
And then, years later, I watched Jo the supernanny cheer a mom on through four hours--four hours--of firmly but gently placing a toddler back in timeout. If only I'd had someone like Supernanny saying yes, yes, you're doing it right, it's ok, you can do this, yep, this is it, this is what moms do. I watched that episode with Hugh, Hugh, who kept saying, "Gosh, a kid like that would drive me nuts."
I could do it better now. Really. I'd be really good at it now.
Kids ARE different. Rachel was like "Owen," very easy. When we moved her to a big-girl bed and told her not to get up until we came to get her the next morning, she got it. But, Patrick? He would follow us back down the hall to the living room every night after being tucked in. We finally compromised -- he'd stay in his room, if not in his bed.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely!Shoot, if we'd had only one child, I'd have been the Total Obnoxious Mom, convinced I had it all figured out. Hugh keeps me humble. And a wee bit neurotic.
ReplyDelete