I’m simultaneously proud and ashamed to announce that my two year old has entered two new phases in his development. Turning these corners of growth can cause such conflicting emotions. Exhilaration can quickly turn into frustration, as I’ve pointed out many times before. So first, I’m proud to announce that my big boy is now sleeping in a new bedroom and in his very own big-boy-bed. We can now fit most of his stuff in this bedroom and it feels like we’ve reclaimed some of our living space back from those monstrous toys. We set up the bed last week and after playing in there for a few days and mimicking our “Hey, nice roooooom” (we say it with a lot of emphasis on the o’s), he volunteered to sleep there all on his own. He slept through the first night with no problem except the occasional distraction by our cat, who also wants to sleep in the big boy bed. Once I figured out what was going on I quickly eliminated that problem by simply closing the door. Easy enough. This seemingly scary transition from crib to bed was apparently no big deal to my son. While I’d like to take some of the credit for it and claim that I prepared him for this big move by hyping up the room and being such a casually cool mom, I have to say that my son deserves it all for being such a brave boy. He’s the cool one. While turning over this new leaf in his development, he has also started handing his binky over to me in the morning saying “Here mama, let’s put it up.” He still asks for it at bedtime but I think we’re finally over that hump as well. I have a misguided feeling that I may not have to fight so hard from now on. Maybe potty training won’t be out of the question. And then, I’ll teach him how to drive a stick shift. No, no, math first.
I said there were two phases that we’ve entered and I’ve shared the one I’m most proud of first. There is no grace period when you’re a parent, no taking a breather, no time outs. I was so proud of my son for being so nonchalant about sleeping in his new big boy bed that I let down my defenses for a split second and forgot that every rose has its thorns. (This won’t be the only ‘80’s rock reference in this blog entry.) This next phase is my least favorite of all of his phases so far. I’d rather have slimy poop in my cupped hands (and on my neck) than to have to deal with this crap. But here goes. He has started hitting. I know that some kids bite, and thank God, I never had to deal with that. We’re over those biting years anyway so I’m sure that will never become a problem. I don’t know where this hitting thing came from, if he’s picked it up from other kids or if, God forbid, he’s picked it up from me. I have admittedly swatted his behind a few times. When I do it, I do it knowing that he is wearing a diaper and I only strike once, just enough to shock him into listening to me so I could properly scold and punish him. And it’s worked, so far. This hitting thing started out as him not actually hitting but pulling back his hand in a threatening position and swatting the air close to me but not actually touching me. That lasted about a day. Now he actually hits. Yesterday he slapped my face. He doesn’t do it very hard, he’s only two, but it’s a direct hit. It’s like how my cat bites me when we play, knowing that if he bites down hard the game is over. My son knows that if he takes it too far his little game is over because mama will go crazy. Even though I don’t think he means for it to hurt, I feel like my son is hitting out of some pent up anger and I’m not sure why. When I tell him no, or stop it, it just makes him swing more. It also makes him point at me and say “Stop it.” It's really cute and I try not to laugh. But the hitting thing is definitely not cute. A few times I’ve turned into a hypocrite and swatted his butt and said “No hitting.” While that makes sense to an adult it makes absolutely no sense to a kid. It’s like smoking a cigarette while telling your kids not to smoke. The kid smoking pot on the public service commercial from my youth screams to his father, “I learned it by watching you!” I used to laugh at that commercial.
So I’ve had to get creative once again and switch my methods and so far, I think it’s working. When my son starts swinging, I grab both of his hands and get real close to his face, like I would a dog, and I calmly say “No hitting,” while holding his hands. Then I say, “Say you’re sorry and let’s kiss on it.” The first couple of times I did this he turned his head away, which is to be expected. He’s a pretty strong boy. I’m stronger. He wiggles to try to get free. He feels trapped because I’m in his face and basically taking away all of his imagined power. My calm (okay, not all of the time, but I try to keep it cool most of the time) demeanor is an immediate juxtaposition to his fit of anger and it disables him. He squeezes out a “sorry” sometimes only in a whisper, but it’s a sorry, so it counts. We kiss. I think that’s his favorite part of the punishment because one time he did it and then wanted a “kiss mama,” skipping the sorry part altogether. I hope some psychoanalyst doesn’t think I’m raising a future wife beater who associates love with violence. Listen guys, I kiss him all day long, not just when he’s in trouble. Anytime he gets close to me I kiss those cheeks and those sweet lips. So I think you’re wrong, psychoanalyst.
I wish I could say the spanking thing has stopped completely but it hasn’t. This new, calm method of punishment is very new school and requires dedication and patience, something I tend to run out of by the end of the day. The words of Guns N’ Roses are so true; it’ll work itself out right. All we need is just a little patience. No matter what your position is on spanking, you have to admit that sometimes it’s effective and sometimes it’s not. I know some people who are dead set against it and some who use it exclusively as their preferred form of punishment. The verdict is still out for me. I myself never received a spanking growing up, but I think it’s because my siblings were such horrible children that my parents were too exhausted to deal with me. Also, just watching them get spanked was threat enough for me to behave. I don’t think my brother and sister have any severe psychological damage because they were spanked as children. On the other hand, I don’t think they are better citizens because of it either. I mean, they are good citizens, just not because they were spanked. Shut up Carrie.
This punishment thing is harder on me than breastfeeding was, and that’s saying something. It has even more potential to make me feel like an utter failure and a complete hypocrite. I’m working through it, like I do. Right now I’m inconsistent because I’m trying to figure it all out. Whatever I choose to do, I definitely need to follow through and be consistent. I’ve figured out from the numerous trips through the check out lanes that lectures do not work on my two-year-old. My voice in his ears probably starts to sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher. My mastery of the English language does me no good when dealing with a kid who has a limited vocabulary. I’ve also figured out that I'm not one of those moms who can ignore her child when he acts up. It completely goes against my nature. I can’t just ignore my son when he’s screaming at the top of his lungs. I definitely can’t ignore him when he hits me. I guess some children act out because they need attention, so not giving it to them ends the whole negative reinforcement thing. I am not one of those people. My son gets plenty of attention. In fact, he gets all of it. It’s the cat who never gets any attention. That’s why he poops on the floor. I’m afraid my husband is going to start doing the same thing soon…
I know that I have to be aware of this hitting thing and I must make sure my son knows it’s not okay to do it. I also have to be aware of myself all the more. This is uncharted territory for me, just like everything else I write about. It’s another great adventure, another lesson learned. As a parent who wants to raise good children, I know I'll make some mistakes but I always mean well. In disciplining my son I know I'll have hits and misses. But I’ll be damned if those hits are coming from my son.
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