sparing the rod

When Jacob was born, I assumed that some day I would spank him.  I wasn't sure when, wasn't sure why, and wasn't sure with what, but I assumed that some day I would spank him. 

Yes, I said with what.  I was spanked with stuff as a kid.  Belts, spatulas, wooden spoons.  Anything not bolted down or valuable and within arm's reach.

Then I got a job in the Parenting field, one where I have to stay well-read and up-to-date and generally on top of sciencey brain and hormone and development stuff that deals with babies and children and I decided that Jacob would not be spanked because of what I learned.

I decided that Dave would not spank Jacob either. 
I'm not 100% sure, but I think he really loves it when I make major life decisions for him, especially regarding fatherhood.

So we came up with ways to deal with behavior that we don't approve of.  Time Outs are good things for us.  It gives everyone a chance to slow down and get out of the red and start to use the parts of our brains that we appreciate others to use with us when dealing with our behaviors that they don't approve of.

Because I don't know about you, but my brain shuts down and I'm not very logical when there is yelling or whining or crying or tantruming or carrying on.  I need some time to boot it back up again or else I'll start yelling/whining/crying/tantruming/carrying on and I really don't want to show Jacob that is an acceptable way to act EVER.  So I take a deep breath and say, "I think we really need a time out here".  And he stomps off crying into the corner or up to his room and I sit on the couch or lie down in my bed until we are all back to earth from our amygdala hijackings and then we have a Time In.

Time Ins always follow Time Outs in our house.  It's where we talk about why things got to the point that they did, how our bodies felt while they were getting to that point, what we were feeling emotionally, what we imagined the other person was feeling both physically and emotionally, and how next time we start to feel our bodies feel the way we did right before things exploded we are going to take our Time Outs then.  Because if there is a mandatory non-voluntary Time Out, there is usually a consequence.

And the consequence is Taking Away Privileges.  TV time, gone.  Game time, gone.  Favorite toy, gone.  For a day, for two days, maybe for three days.  Never much longer than that.  It becomes a pain in the ass for everyone after three days.  Something about fish and no privileges, three days something something houseguest. I don't know.

But no spanking.  Or popping, pinching, slapping, biting, nothing.  Never, not once.

And then we do some sort of teachable moment about why it isn't okay to _____ and "do you ever see normal grown ups doing _____?  No, of course not because it's not okay and here is why...".

I feel that our job as parents is to get the kids ready for adulthood.  In every way possible.
Violence and corporal punishment is not a part of adulthood.  Shouldn't be.

When you are a grown up, no one in a position of authority is supposed to hit you when you are out of line.  They can put you in Time Out at the County, State, or Federal Level.
They can take things away from you that you really really value.  Like your job or your family or your money or your home.
But no one is likely to hit you.
Unless you live in Singapore or somewhere that sort of thing happens.

And I don't want to teach Jake that it is okay to hurt someone when they do something he doesn't like.  Or holler.  Or carry on.  Or curse.  Or whatever.

And it is hard not to do those things.

So incredibly effing ridiculously hard to not resort to those things.
Those things you can do once and it takes a minute and then it's over and life resumes somehow.

But I try my best not to, and it gets easier and easier as time goes on.

The No Spanking approach to parenting has mixed reviews among my peers.  A lot of my friends spank.  Yell.  Carry on.  A lot of them don't.  Race doesn't play in.  Faith.  Wealth.  Education.  It's pretty much 50/50 across the board.
The spankers tell me I'm spoiling.  That I should just wait and see what will explode out of Jacob when he gets a little older.  When he hits that next stage.
The no spankers tell me I'm doing the right thing.  That the exploding that is coming out of those other kids is a result of having explosive parents.  Explosive childhoods.  That it is learned behavior.
I tend to agree.

People tell Dave and I that we are too strict. 
We are strict.  The rules are the rules and they are only bent out of necessity or fun.
Bedtimes get extended when we are out running around or when we are doing awesome stuff at night.
Extended TV time happens when there is something really good on television.  And so on.

People say we are too easy.
We need to make him fear us.
We don't have enough rules.

Thinking about it, we actually don't have many rules, per se.  More like parameters.  Basically work hard, study hard, play hard, be fair, always share, respect your things, my things, their things and your body, my body and their body, and always consider your feelings, my feelings, and their feelings. That's it.  Everything else falls into place pretty naturally when those things are happening.

People tell Dave and I that we are just lucky.  That we lucked out with a good kid.  I think that some of this is true.  But we work really hard at parenting.  It is the hardest thing we've ever done.  It's supposed to be  hard. 

And it's paying off.  In school is mostly where we can see it and measure it.  Jacob is doing well.  He hasn't ever had to "change his light to yellow or red" (they do this traffic light thing).  His teachers like him.  His peers like him.  That's a good feeling.  It's a good feeling to leave the Parent Teacher Report Card Conference smiling.  To know that the teacher loves your child and appreciates his presence in the classroom.  To see her start to cry when you mention that one little thing that has been bothering him and is keeping you up at night.

I'm proud of us.
All of us.

Does Jacob have his moments?  Yes.  He's five.  He can be a real pain in the ass.
But so can I, and I have 30 years on him.

Writing this down and looking at things as a whole makes me feel better when someone says to me that I'm not doing things right.  That I'm doing him a disservice.  Doing myself a disservice.  People can be such jerks.

It also makes me feel squishy warm warm Dr Leo Marvin handsy puppetsy hippie dippy.  But I'm okay with that.

Almost.

Parenting is hard to come to terms with no matter what you are doing and how well you are doing it.