Carol's kids

This is the kind of mother I would like to be. I have a long way to go.

Indoor Fun: Playdough recipe

Some places have rainy days. Some have snow days or storm days. Here in central California, we have "Bad Air Days." Most of the time, I don't worry about it too much, and we go out if we need to. But who wants to go out when it's 107 outside with 40 percent humidity, and the sunlight is orange from all the smoke in the sky? We can see all too clearly the far-reaching effects of all the recent fires around the state.

So, we watch more movies and read more books in July (and January, actually) than any other time of the year. Last week it was time to make some new playdough, too. I hadn't made any in months because of my mixer being out of sorts.






The bug parts came as a kit from Insectlore.com a few Christmases ago. I'm not sure if they still have them or not, but they have been a favorite around here for a long time.

Here's my recipe:

2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup salt
2 packets favorite color of Koolaid
1 Tbs Cream of tartar
3 Tbs cooking oil
1 1/4 cups very hot water

Boil some water. Mix dry ingredients. Add oil. Add water. Mix until dough peels away from sides or is cool enough to knead by hand. Keeps for a month in a Ziploc if put away immediately after playing.

What's your favorite indoor activity to set up for the kids?

What kind of mother hen are you?

What type of Mother Hen Are You?
by Montessorimom.com: Educational Resource

To the mother of the lively boys...

Right before Christmas, an anonymous reader commented on this post about my ideas about spanking. I've just finally finished my reply to her here, and I really hope she hasn't given up on me completely and might still see it.

Dear Anonymous

I haven't posted about parenting issues in SO long. It's just such a sensitive issue, and sometimes I feel like I'm not following my own philosophy well enough to have the right to proselytize it. But I still get new comments on my old spanking posts every once in a while. Like this one from an anonymous reader:

"Your column is making me feel extremely guilty. with 2 naughty boys who are a year apart and the parenting part left to me - spanking has become a way of life. Yes I dread to think of the day when spanking will be ineffective. If we go visiting then they jump on the sofas, tear the flowers in the garden, act as if famished even if they are well fed up to the brim at home. Of course there is the pressure of relatives that your kids are intolerant, indisciplined. HELP" --Anonymous

Oh, dear mama, I do understand! We've all been there. Raising kids is incredibly challenging no matter how you do it. And active children close in age will always make the relatives talk. Plus we have to deal with our own "need" to please other adults, and the inner conflict that comes when the desires of other adults conflict with the desires and needs of our children.

It's not easy to mediate between our children and the world, but we often have to as parents. It's not easy to be patient and creative enough to find a solution that works for everyone in a situation. It's a lot of effort. But it's also worth it.

At some point we have to ask ourselves: What is most important here? What am I teaching my children about the world, themselves, and their mother by how I react in this situation? What do I really believe about my children?

Do I really believe that they are "naughty" boys who need to be corrected and punished? Or do I believe that they are unique individuals worthy of respect and love as they learn how to navigate this complicated world? Can I trust that they have a sense of what they need and are just trying to express it even if it comes out in ways that are inconvenient for the adults around them?

Kids do need to jump, run, explore, and try new things. They want to know what's in Grandma's pantry that they don't have at home. They want to touch the flowers as well as smell them. It doesn't mean they're "naughty." That's how they learn! Some kids respond to "no" because they want to please the parent more than they want to explore what's in front of them. Others want to learn about the world so badly that they're willing to sacrifice pleasing you. That's a matter of both temperament and trust.

So, what to do with children who trust you enough to follow their own hearts and risk displeasing you? First, be glad that they know you love them. Second, be grateful for the strong wills that will serve them well in adulthood. Know that a child with a strong will can survive a lot of parenting mistakes with his True Self still intact.

And trust yourself. No one loves your children more than you do. You will make mistakes. You can learn from them just as your children will learn from theirs. It takes practice, but after awhile it becomes second nature to notice what your kids need in the way of room to be active and noisy, and to find ways to support them.

Find support for yourself, too. Seek out like-minded parents, choose friends who enjoy lively children, check out online support groups such as http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NoMoreSpanking/. We all become more like the people we spend the most time with. So make sure you like how those people treat your children.

And then, enjoy your kids! Have fun with them! Learn to laugh and play like they do! It can be difficult for those of us who eventually learned to be "good" to let go and be silly again. I'm still learning. But our kids are worth it.

Confessions of an at-home parent with other dreams

Every once in a while I find myself wondering what I've gotten myself into. Like, when I decided I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, was it really because I wanted to spend all my time with my kids, or was it just because I was tired of my job and wanted an excuse to hang out at home, learn to cook and knit, and let my husband support me guilt-free? Or, when I started reading learning theory and thinking about the aspects of school I wanted my kids to miss out on, did I realize that I would have kids at home for the next TWO DECADES?

Sometimes I let neighborhood kids come over for hours at a time just so my kids will have someone else to talk to and will leave me to think my own thoughts uninterrupted for a whole ten minutes. Then when the neighborhood kids start talking to me, I pretend to be deaf. "I'm sorry, did you say something? Maybe you should go home and tell your mother about it, 'cause I can't hear you."

There's nothing like other people's Christmas letters to make you start re-evaluating your life. And when that's too painful, you just start judging how THEY spent their time this year. "Oh, so you took a few days away from your kids this year, did you? Guess you just couldn't handle the full-time parenting gig, huh?" No, no jealousy there. Not a smidge!

For most of my career as a mother I've belonged to the camp convinced that "good" mothers never want to pawn their children off on someone else. Except in special cases. Like doctor appointments. Or the occasional date with your husband. (Movie OR dinner, never both.) And only leaving them with your mother or someone else as trustworthy as yourself. Pity the woman whose mother lives on the opposite coast or who believes Oreos and nonorganic milk are an appropriate snack for children. She'll just have to wait for hubby to come home to take her shower.

In some circles, wanting to have a break from your children means either a) your children are driving you nuts because your discipline techniques are weak, b) your children are driving you nuts because you have inadequate patience and creativity to adequately meet their needs, or c) you shouldn't have had kids in the first place because you're obviously too selfish to be a full-time parent.

While some version of this philosophy insidiously infiltrates every social circle, there isn't a mother alive who's never wanted a few minutes to herself to poop with the door closed. Most of us want a little more.

It's taken me a long time to admit to myself that I do want more. Sure, I want to be the best mom and wife I can be. Sure, I want to enjoy the privilege I've been given to watch my children grow up before my eyes. I want to enjoy what they have to teach me about living in the moment, about creating unbounding joy out of sunshine and sticks, about accepting the waves of emotion that come as life's ups and downs wash over me. I don't want to give up any of that. Not even for the chance to learn how to spin yarn. Or go to the newest Harry Potter film without having to leave halfway through. Or take a yoga class even though it's at dinnertime and my kids will be inhaling corn dogs and tater tots while I exhale my negative chi.

And yet, I do want to do those things. I want to do them guilt-free, trusting that I'm still a good mother even if I desire things that will take me away from my children. Most of my desire has nothing to do with getting away from the people I love and everything to do with going toward something else that interests me. But it shouldn't matter. It should be OK just to want to get away sometimes. It doesn't mean we're inadequate as parents. It doesn't mean our children will suffer. It doesn't mean we're selfish.

At some point, we have to turn off the voices in our heads, ignore the looks and whispers among the playgroup mothers, and give ourselves permission to chase our other dreams. Yes, becoming a mother was a dream of mine. But it wasn't the only one. And while motherhood is a life-long position with never-ending demands, even the most important job on the planet deserves some time off.

Checking in.

Just a quick note to say, yes, I'm still alive, just busy and tired.

Fall colds have kept us from sleeping well at night, and made us cranky during the day. A pinworm scare sent us to the doctor, and I had to disinfect the house two days after the housekeeper had been here. After skipping swim lessons and canceling playdates just in case, turns out it was just an itchy bottom that went away without explanation.

Besides that, we've been busy with kung fu lessons, the usual errands, meeting friends at the park, and trying to keep up with messes Baby Fish has been making all over the house! I finally got out the baby gate to put up between the kitchen and dining room after I almost killed myself tripping over a cooking pot that blended into the wood floors. Baby can go where he wants. Pots must stay in the kitchen. Toys must stay OUT of the kitchen.

I'm so harsh, I know.

Next week UberDad is going to a teacher conference for four days, and I'm alone with the kids. My mother's in London for the month, so there's no one to rescue me from the chaos. Don't expect to see me posting here. Although maybe it would be therapeutic. Neglectful, I'm sure, but therapeutic.

One lap, shared.

My 4yo stole a rare moment on my empty lap this evening. He has gotten so tall and lanky he barely resembles the chubby baby that used to ride around in a sling all day long. Now his little brother is the one most often on my hip, but he never seems to resent it. Grouper is more likely to smother Baby Fish with too tight a hug than do anything that expresses jealousy.

No, tonight it was the baby's turn to be jealous.

It took me a minute to realize what he was upset about. UberDad recognized it first. "He doesn't want Grouper sitting on your lap!" my husband laughed, watching the baby scoot over to the sofa from his playmat, dismay in his voice and on his face.

I smiled at him as he came closer, but hugged my middle son tighter, not ready to give up our cuddle. "Your brother is my baby, too!" I said. "But you can come up and join us!"

I pulled him up on the couch, and set him on his brother's lap. We were nestled one on top of another like his stackable wooden boxes, though I wasn't sure that it would be enough. It was -- he was happy to be a part of the cuddle for a moment. Then he slid off to crawl along the sofa and giddily bounce against the cushions.

How lucky am I? He could just as easily have reached out to grab Grouper's face like he does the cat's tail, in an attempt to wrestle his place back. But he didn't.

At some point every mother worries about jealousy between her children. "If I have another baby, will my first child forgive me?" "How will I give them both enough attention and love?" And sometimes we do exactly what we hope we wouldn't -- we choose one over the other, expecting the older children to understand when we put the baby's needs first -- all day long. Or putting the baby off too long because the older child needed our attention. And sometimes it's just a matter of not having enough hands to do everything we're needed for at once.

Maybe it's luck. An undeserved blessing. Maybe I'm figuring some things out and not making those mistakes as often. In any case, I am grateful for having sons who know the value of a brother, and truly love each other.

Toy recalls

I'm a little slow on the news, so forgive me if this is old and you've all heard it already. But just in case, check this list and make sure you don't have any of
these Mattel toys (it includes lots of Polly Pocket playsets).

It's that time of year again...

The air is still be stifling hot outside, but there's no denying the season is changing. It just has nothing to do with the weather.

Back-to-School marketing has been interrupting the kids' favorite shows for weeks already, trying to convince us to get excited about heading to the nearest mega-mart to stock up on writing utensils, binders and backpacks. According to Walmart, KMart and Staples, going back to school has less to do with the routine of bus schedules and homework than with the need to buy new stuff. And it has almost nothing to do with fall, since most schools around the country start the new semester in mid-August while it's still 90-something degrees outside.

Unfortunately, I'm totally falling prey to the propaganda. What is it about new things that make them so appealing? Why is it so easy to believe that getting something new will make us feel better about our lives? Why is buying a cute new pair of shoes so darn exciting?

I admit that as a kid I did NOT like shopping for school shoes. I wore size 11 by fifth grade. Very few shoemakers make shoes for girls in size 11. I remember one summer driving two hours to Los Angeles, then searching three different malls to find a pair of shoes that looked cute on a five-foot-eleven-inch 12-year-old. Maybe that's why it's so exciting to find a pair I like in my size even now.

In any case, since we're unschooling, I obviously don't have a list on the fridge of all the supplies I'd be required to purchase if my sons were heading back to the local elementary school in 10 days. We can buy drawing paper when we want some, when we realize we've run out. I can pick up a notebook for journaling when I've filled my last one, or new crayons when I realize they're all broken again.

But there's still something tempting about all that stuff filling the seasonal section in the back of Target right now. It triggers very old memories; that feeling of excitement that comes when you're preparing for a change, for some new not-wholly-familiar adventure.

I actually liked school as a kid. Maybe not as much as summer freedom, but by the end of each break, I was looking forward to getting back in the routine, seeing friends who didn't live in our neighborhood -- deciding which color backpack and binders to get for the new school year.

Now that I'm a homeschooling mom married to a teacher, the approach of fall has less to do with preparing the kids for school, and more to do with how we're going to survive losing UberDad to the workday again.

Even when he teaches summer school, we have a lot more time together over the summer months. This summer we had almost every day. The boys got used to having a parent available whenever they needed one -- to read a WoW quest, pour another glass of chocolate soy milk, play their favorite card game, kiss an owie, take them out for ice cream cones. If one of us was busy, the other could take care of it.

With UberDad back at school, I'm going to have to meet all those needs by myself during the day -- again. I have to remind myself that this isn't the first time. Last fall I had a newborn to care for! This year should be a cinch!

Part of my problem is that I want to raise the bar for myself. With Baby Fish getting a little more independent, I'll have more time to play with all three boys than I did last year. Because part of the point of being home with my kids, and keeping them home, is to do stuff together. Not just so we can sit at the table and play school. They're not interested in that kind of thing very often. Not just to fill the week with playdates. We'll have plenty, but it's nice to be at home with just each other, too. And not so I can do my own thing while they entertain themselves, even if they do so happily most of the time.

So, sitting at the dinner table tonight, I asked the boys what they'd like to do when Daddy goes back to work. I thought maybe they'd like to do more science projects or help me plant a new vegetable garden. I wondered if there was anything they'd hoped to do that I hadn't gotten around to yet.

Their first answers: "Play World of Warcraft ALL day long!" "Drink lots of chocolate soy milk." "Play BUZZ!" "Eat ice cream."

Hmm, sounds a lot like summer. Maybe I can do this after all. And maybe I'll get started on that vegetable garden and see if they eventually join me.

Kindness begets kindness

"It's okay to be kind to our children. It's okay to give them a feeling of abundance. Knowing that their own needs and wants are valued will only make them want to help others to meet their needs and wants too. Kindness begets kindness."

Rue Kream,
Parenting a Free Child

All the best things in life are noisy and messy.

Think about it... Happy children, really good sex, giving birth (I see a theme forming), dinner parties and potlucks, music and art (when created together) ... are all wonderful things that require a certain tolerance for chaos and imperfection, and without which, life would be terribly, neatly, dull. I could spend a lot of time trying to keep house perfectly, but what would be the point if there were no life in it?

Can you think of some more?

MOOOO.

If you have time for a phone call tomorrow and you haven't signed up yet, there's still room in Heather Cushman-Dowdee's MOOFEST 2005. I'll be there, celebrating radical motherhood and supporting Heather's art-activism as creator of the free comic strip "Hathor the Cowgoddess and the Evolution Revolution". I am VERY excited about this.

Dialogue!

First, thank you for your thoughtful comments on my last post. I may not know who you are, but you're inspiring me to write more! Tom, I wish I had an 18-year-old sister I could hook up with you. :) Thanks for the link info.

Regarding the comments by the second anonymous poster...

"I don't know exactly how to say this, but I do feel that I need to defend myself. I am not offended at all by what you have said Amanda, but I do believe that there is an area of acceptable spanking. Not out of anger but out of getting a child's attention. And only when it really truly is a 'teachable moment'. I don't mean hurting a child either. But if a tantrum is thrown in the middle of the store a startling swat can do the trick with the right child."

Let me first say that I know many loving, good mothers who do spank. I would never judge one's parenting solely on that issue. The fact that I don't spank does not make me a perfect parent. However, I think there is a misunderstanding regarding the necessity of spanking, and also of the right of a parent to hit his or her child.

For me, it comes down to the Golden Rule. If I am having a fit because I'm hungry or overstimulated or frustrated because I can't get what I believe I need, do I want my child or my husband to hit me in order to get my attention? Definitely not! Would it really take that action to get my attention? No. Am I going to learn anything if my husband slaps me? Well, I might. I might learn that my husband doesn't really value my feelings, that he doesn't really want to listen to what I need, that if I express myself emotionally I'm going to get hit, not helped.

Suppose instead that my husband comes to me, puts his arms on my shoulders, looks me in the eye and says, "Honey, I can see you're really upset. I'd like to help. But I don't want to be screamed at." Then I can calm myself down, and trust that I'll be heard, and my problem will be addressed one way or another.

It's perfectly okay for a parent to set a boundary, to say, "This is unacceptable behavior. I don't want to be treated like this." But it should ALSO be okay for the child to say that to the parent. And that's often what a child is saying with a so-called tantrum. As adults, we have to remember that young children often simply don't have the verbal skills necessary to express what they need. They do learn, however, that being loud in public usually gets our attention.

This is what I've learned about shopping with my children... If we go when the boys are hungry or tired, it's going to be more challenging. If I am the one who's hungry and/or tired, it's going to be the worst. The worse my expectations, the more tense I get, and the worse the shopping experience. And if I'm in a really bad mood, I'll leave the story never wanting to go back, and doubting my entire parenting philosophy. Thank goodness those times are rare.

If, on the other hand, we are armed with snacks, and I don't worry about getting back home quickly, and I try to enjoy my children along the way, then we have a great time. I relax about whether they're in the cart or walking alongside me. I don't freak out if one of them wanders a few feet away. I let them help put food in the cart instead of trying to rush the job by doing it myself. I speak calmly about what extras we can get, and what we can't, and they accept my "not this time" more easily.

My children's behavior is often a reflection of my own. The more hurried I am, the slower they move. The more irritable I am, the more they whine. The more I push them away, the more they cling. But when I am calm, and centered, and really listening to them, they are able to cope better with their own problems and emotions.

"Or if the child is about to run across the street without looking, it makes the connection that what is going on at that moment is a bad choice."

To me, this is simply illogical. "Mommy doesn't want you to run across the street without looking because you might get hurt. Oh no, you did it anyway, and didn't get killed, so I'm going to hurt you now myself." If your reasoning is that entering the street might lead to pain, why is the pain of a spanking justified?

The "connection" argument is actually based on studies done by humanistic behaviorists on rats, which you're probably familiar with. As a Christian, I reject behaviorism as immoral because it justifies treating human beings as objects, not subjects with God-given free will and the ability to reason. Behaviorists do not believe people have souls.

Yes, children's behavior can be manipulated or "trained" with rewards and punishments. I do not dispute that. (Though there are always "strong-willed" exceptions, thank God!) But each time a person is treated as though he has no soul, no will of his own which needs to be recognized and respected, that soul dies a little. The more external motivators are used to control a person's behavior, the more his internal motivation is suppressed. That is, in fact, the goal. After a while, a person can be stripped of any internal motivation to do good for good's sake, or simply for the sake of others. Instead, they do it to avoid punishment, or only because they believe they will be rewarded.

Behaviorism dismisses the possibility that a child might have some good ideas of his own that would be worth exploring even without approval by outside interests. It ignores the importance of independent thinking in a free society.

It is also the philosophy behind the decision of school administrators in my town who are offering $100 to students who report dangerous or threatening activities by their classmates. First, if there is really a threat, the reward should be unnecessary. Second, what kind of moral lesson is being taught by bribing students to rat out their friends? What kind of community is that? The problem is that we ARE a society of people dependent on external motivators. Schools believe in this, they promote it, and they ensure it every step of the way, from kindergarten to high school graduation, with report cards and award ceremonies and special privileges for the well-behaved. Then kids arrive at college, and their professors complain that no one's really there to learn, all their students want to know is, "What's the least I have to do to get the grade I want?"

"And of course you have to explain why that behavior isn't good. I mean, it doesn't stand alone unless the reasons and expectations have already been stated. I didn't swat my daughter until she was three and I can't remember the last time I did. So for her, the effectiveness of a swat has gone away and now I use other forms of correction."

If that's the case, do you really think it was necessary for that brief period at all? If there were other things you did to get her attention before age three, and other ways you influence her behavior now, isn't it possible that there could have been an alternative to "swatting" during the interim as well?

I think that when we include hitting children as an acceptable means of discipline even under rare circumstances, we prevent ourselves from finding more respectful ways to communicate with our child.

"Generally when she acts rude towards me or is disobedient she simply needs a verbal reminder. Fortunately she aims to please and wants to be a kind person. I do believe there are ways that spanking can be an effective and non-damaging way to instruct behavior."

Most children do aim to please, if they haven't lost faith that it's possible. God is merciful, and this is a huge blessing to parents. Even if you don't believe in God, it is biologically imperative that children please their parents. Too often we take this fact for granted, or don't believe it at all, instead using rewards and punishments to control our children, and then the opportunity for mutual trust and respect is lost.

Even if the rest of your parenting is positive and loving enough to prevent damage to your relationship with your child via spanking, she is still learning that it is okay for mommies and daddies to hit, even though it's not okay for anyone else. That's hard to swallow, and hard to follow. It expresses the belief that adults are human, but children are subhuman. There are people who believe this. I am not one of those people, and neither is Jesus.

So, I'm sitting with a small group of mainstream Christian mothers, one with teens, two with young children, one a grandmother.

Much as I try to avoid it, I broach the subject of spanking because it is relevant to our book. Each woman admits to relying on physical punishment and finding it justified with certain children if not all. The grandmother found the threat of a wooden spoon in her purse necessary to maintain order in the grocery store when her five were young.

As usual, my thoughts remain in my head. I sit there, lips tight, feeling like I can't say anything without coming across as either judgmental or naive. Who am I to suggest that spanking isn't necessary to a mother with five mostly grown children, all of whom are good citizens and love their parents? I have only two, and they are still young.

The mothers admit to each other that discipline is complicated, that some children need stronger discipline than others. And time-outs don't always work. I insert that I don't believe in time-outs either, but I'm cut off before I can explain.

Everyone assumes my children are not "strong-willed." Oh, but they are. I am their mother, after all. And my own gentle mother broke so many spoons over my bottom as a two year old, she finally left the task of discipline to my father and his belt. I received my last "spanking" at age 12. (My mother regrets this, and my parents and I have made peace about the issue.)

The mother of teens laments what to do when your children are too old to spank. When they don't take responsibility for things you think they should, what do you do? Talk leads to withholding privileges. The grandmother suggests that at some point, you just have to call it a day and hope for the best.

On the way home, my eldest mentions his friend who gets a lot of time-outs. (Was he listening to the grown-up talk from down the hall?) Why don't I get time-outs, Mommy? he asks.

And I finally get to say what I wish I had said to the other moms.

Because I think you should do the right thing because it's the right thing to do, not because you're afraid of being punished.

What's "punished," Mommy? he asks.

Punishment is doing something bad to someone to make them want to be good, I say. It makes no sense. I want you to be kind and considerate and giving because you love people, and because you know you are loved.

But sometimes people aren't nice, he counters.

Yes, I respond. Sometimes people do things without thinking about how their actions affect other people. Your friend gets time-outs when she acts impulsively, like when she sprays her sister with the hose. But when people are punished for being impulsive, they start thinking about whether they want to risk punishment, instead of thinking of whom they're affecting. I try not to assume that she didn't want to upset her sister so much as she just wanted to spray the hose.

This is my theory... People are neither bad nor good. We were made in God's image, but we are vulnerable to all kinds influences, both positive and negative. We are capable of both great evil and great love, depending on our experiences and how we learn to respond to them. We were given free will to choose good or evil. But we are also offered the Grace necessary to overcome our negative experiences and choose good.

When children are treated with respect and trust, when they are expected to do good, not assumed to be Sinful, they want to do good, to trust, and to be respectful. When they are loved, they want to keep that love. Yes, some children are more impulsive than others, and have a harder time doing the right thing the first time. But when their motives are not assumed to be the worst, when they are given a second chance, they try that much more.

Christ took our punishment. Because of Him we no longer have to suffer needlessly for our mistakes. We can look to Him for never-ending love and mercy. I have never felt punished by God. I have punished myself by running from Him when I needed Him most. I have punished others out of my own fear and shame. I have suffered because I did not trust Him fully. But He has not punished me in order to teach me. I have learned from my own failures, and I have learned to trust Him because He is always trustworthy. He has taught me to love by His example.

I am able to love my children because I have been so loved by my Heavenly Father and my Savior. I do not do it perfectly. But I am thankful that I am not dependent on punishment for influencing their behavior. Sometimes I wonder if my God is not the same Person as the God of other Christians I know.

ParentLeaders.org

Found this site recently, thought I'd share. Seems very respectful of children and also recognizes the specific difficulties parents face. Practical tools to learn, and booklets to order. I might buy some to share in my childbirth classes. Gotta go to bed now.

Climb and punishment

At the park yesterday, I witnessed a parent do something that seemed to me incredibly strange. On the playground were two extensive jungle gyms for climbing, sliding, etc. One was larger than the other, obviously set up for older children, but not so complicated that your average younger child would be unsafe.

Our homeschool group was at the park together, but we came at the same time as a group of older schoolchildren, so most of our children chose to wait out the crowd (by playing games on the lawn) before clamouring onto the playsets. At this point, the majority headed to the larger one.

A little girl, age three, had been playing in close view of her mother on the smaller playset when she saw the other children, including her elder sister, head for the larger. She decided to follow them. Her mother immediately instructed the little girl to come back to the smaller playset, and when the little girl hesitated, the mother threatened her with a "time out." "Okay, Mommy," she reluctantly responded (obviously playing on the smaller playset was better than sitting on a bench). The mother looked at me, smiled and said, "That's all I wanted to hear."

(After I recovered from shock over the ridiculousness of the exchange, I wondered if the little girl had some kind of disability that was not apparent to anyone but her mother. Not ten minutes later, my two-year-old and a friend's one-year-old were climbing up with the rest of the "big kids" on the "big kid" jungle gym. No injuries during the entire two-hour park visit.)

Potential disabilities notwithstanding, what rational person threatens to punish a child in order to keep her from possibly skinning her knee? And what kind of parent gets pleasure from the submission of a child derived via threat of such punishment?

We don't have many of that kind of parent in our group. They generally stay home where it's safe, and they don't have to be embarrassed by their need for control and dependency on threats and punishments. Because it's clear very quickly that most of our children are free to play, with or without shoes as they like, on the grass or in the sand, whether or not they've eaten their lunch first, and with mom or dad only as close by as necessary -- usually to push them on the swings or catch them jumping, or cheer them on as they tackle a new physical challenge. No one ever gets a time out -- or any other punishment. Only the littlest ones need to be reminded that no one likes to have sand thrown at them. The older children always look out for the younger when the parents are caught up in conversation or other siblings. And everyone has a fabulous time.

I am so blessed to be part of a group like ours. I hope the new mom finds it refreshing, too, and decides to let her daughter risk the steps up to the big slide someday.

Yes, I use cloth diapers.

At yesterday's birthday party, the subject of cloth diapers came up -- and no, I was NOT responsible. Okay, my blue-eyed baby was wearing his "My mom may be crunchy, but my diaper's not" t-shirt, so it's possible this was some influence. Nonetheless, once the subject became the center of a conversation, I was happy to join in, explaining that, Yes, indeed, cloth diapers are alive and doing better than ever, and if the party's Token Pregnant Mama is interested in more information, I even know a local diaper maker!

A couple hours after the party, I was talking to a friend via telephone, and she brought up the subject again (yes, really, I had nothing to do with it!), saying she wanted to use cloth diapers with her next baby. I expounded on the wonders of wool soakers, pocket diapers, all-in-ones and unbleached Chinese prefolds, and she quickly realized she'd need the entire pregnancy to shop!

Then, (without even looking!) today I found yet another webring to join, this one for bloggers who use, what else? And I promptly added it to the list at right. So, I guess it's time for a cloth diaper post.

Here's my spiel (and don't ask Scott for his, he doesn't change enough or wash enough diapers for it to count). Do you use real plates or paper plates for dinner every night? Why? Whatever your answer, the same goes for diapers. (That said, I do have a close friend who uses paper kitchen goods frequently, but ALSO cloth diapers. I suppose it's her contribution to make up for the extra trees. ;)

We use real plates and real napkins for almost every meal. They're just nicer, plus it's better for the environment and our grocery budget. I'm not a cloth napkin Nazi -- we do have paper towels handy for when they're more practical, and we use paper plates and napkins for big social functions, just as we have disposables handy for long trips or stressful weeks. If I didn't have a dishwasher, I'd probably use paper more often, just as I'd probably use disposable diapers if I lived in an apartment without my own washer and dryer (we don't have a diaper service in my town).

Plenty of sites out there explain the actual or imagined environmental differences. The disposable diaper makers would have you believing that it would be BETTER for the planet if everyone stopped using their dish- and clothes-washers and started using disposable everything. This makes no sense to me. Get an energy-efficient washer and a clothesline, if you're that concerned, and don't use so much darned detergent! It's really not that complicated.

Besides, would you want to wear plastic-covered paper underwear for three years out of your life even if they did seem to keep you feeling dry? No one looks forward to having to wear Depends. When I'm old and incontinent, I hope my diaper-making friend will still be around to sew up some beautiful, soft waterproof panties that I can wash alongside my clothes in the retirement home laundrymat.

Highlights of the last few days

This weekend was a bit crazy. I had two baby showers to attend, almost didn't make either of them. I hadn't had enough time to catch up on laundry, so I was cranky while getting ready for the first one, and the phone kept ringing. Sensing my own anxiety, my firstborn did NOT want me to leave, despite knowing that he, his brother and his Daddy would be meeting friends at Chuck E Cheese's. Poor baby, I was not very good at comforting him, half-dressed and irritated as I was.

When I got home, he'd had a fun afternoon, but no nap, and I was afraid we were going to have another meltdown in my attempt to leave for the second shower, and not long before he'd be ready for bed. So, Scott and I devised a plan to increase my chance of escape without coercion. We loaded both boys in the car, and headed to the video store, hoping that having a new video to watch would be a good enough distraction to prevent freak-outs when I got dropped off.

A mile away from the shower location, Looney Tunes video successfully acquired, I was still doubting whether this was going to work -- and then I looked in the backseat. The boys were OUT. Heads flopped onto shoulders, eyes sealed shut. F was likely to stay asleep through the night, and would never know I'd left. G had just nursed, and would be fine even if he awoke upon arrival home. I finally breathed and relaxed. I even enjoyed the party.

* * * * *
Saturday night I stayed up late doing laundry so I'd have something to wear to church in the morning. Then I overslept by nearly two hours, and sent Scott and the boys to church without me, while I showered, did MORE laundry, and attempted to pick up the house. I often take the boys to church by myself when Scott has a shooting match out of town. That's been a lot this summer. Starting to suspect people at church wonder if we've separated. Of course, we're Episcopalian, so no one asks.

* * * * *
Despite sleeping for nearly 12 hours Saturday night, F wanted to nap after church. We were expected at Scott's aunt's house for his grandmother's 90th birthday party at 2 p.m. I got them down pretty quickly after lunch, but they were not ready to be woken up by the time we needed to leave. We got G in the car just fine, but his big brother wailed and flailed, and continued to protest being carted away from our comfortable bed as we drove off. A block away, Scott made an executive decision to turn around. We put both boys back in bed, and gave it another hour.

By the time we arrived at the party, everyone had finished their cake and ice cream, the kids were getting out of the pool, and we visited with Scott's mom and brother for less than 30 minutes before the guests, including his grandmother, began to leave. No matter. The boys still wanted to swim, and I helped myself to an extra serving of homemade ice cream with fudge. Scott got time to spend talking to his aunt and uncle with no competition. We might have worn them out by extending the party like that, but they didn't complain -- and the boys were in much better moods than if we hadn't let them sleep.

* * * * *
The last two days we've spent mostly at home. My neighbor stopped by no less than five times yesterday. Her 3-month-old has a head cold and isn't nursing well. Plus she's been helping me look for new charms online. I found the charm bracelet my mother-in-law gave me last Mother's Day while rearranging the playroom furniture. Online shopping is addictive, especially when there's something else you should be doing. Like finish writing out my plans for the childbirth preparation class I'll start teaching in two weeks. I spent a couple hours on that yesterday, but I have a lot left to do. I'm taking the boys out of town for the next three days, then we have a birthday party on Saturday, and Scott's teaching a shooting clinic all weekend. Chances are, I won't be blogging much for the next week. I'd rather write when I have an actual cohesive thought to share, anyhow. Take care in the meantime, and know I haven't forgotten you. :)

Bed. Now.

I am exhausted. I almost called it a night and didn't get up again after the boys were asleep. The playroom's back together, if you don't count the toys that have been rescattered through the house since this morning. But I've got a ton of laundry to catch up on tomorrow, and two baby showers to attend, plus Scott's grandmother's (89th?) birthday party on Sunday.

G napped early today, since he was awake by 6:30 with his brother this morning. F didn't nap at all, but wanted me to play Rescue Heroes with him all afternoon. We also got onto funschool.com to check out their preschool games. My neighbor told us about it. He liked the one where you put each animal in their proper habitat. He knows where they're all supposed to go. The hard part was learning how to use the mouse. I helped a lot at first, but my back got tired leaning over him, and just as he started to get the concept, G wanted to nurse. Plus it was getting close to dinnertime and Scott wasn't home yet.

It's about this point when I wonder why I don't just enforce a schedule like all those smart moms out there who have guaranteed nap and bedtimes to keep them sane and their kids rested. Why did I have to go get mixed up with those crazy unschoolers and TCSers who insist that kids have different natural rhythms and learning shouldn't be limited by arbitrary schedules? Who say that external boundaries only inhibit one's ability to learn to regulate oneself?

(And then I remember that we had this "problem" even before I started reading Sandra Dodd or the rest. Because Scott and I wanted to be able to do things in the evening -- participate in our church book club, rent a movie at my parents' -- without having to hire a babysitter. So we never did buy into the "baby's bedtime is 7 p.m." thing, but slept in to make up for late nights. Occasionally F was ready to nurse to sleep before my teeth were brushed, and we ended up with cranky baby and cranky parents. But we could have found a solution if we'd tried harder.)

The truth is, he really is good about regulating his sleeping. If he's tired, he'll usually say so. And he doesn't argue if we suggest it's a good day for nap because we're going out after dinner. If he's tired and HUNGRY, on the other hand, he'll just be impossible to distract from the one thing he wants but I'm not willing to give him. And that has much more to do with age and genetics. If I ever get around to writing a parenting book, I really will have to title it "Hypoglycemic Parenting." Because that seems to be the style I have down pat.