Persuasion

Today's word is "persuasion."

I am often asking my children to change their minds about something, to convince them that their opinions (on say something like...what they want for dinner) are misguided and uninformed.  I provide them with evidence to the contrary, proving beyond a doubt, that mother really does know best.  Children need to be persuaded to:

-- brush their teeth effectively (or you'll get cavities).

-- clean up their rooms (that's how you earn screen time/allowance).

-- take a sweater (it's not cold now, but it might be later).

It's mother's prerogative to dispense with all kinds of wisdom given her wealth of experience in all things related to childhood.  If children could be convinced to listen to mother, all would be right with the world.

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I've been thinking lately about the students I have in my classes.  I should not have to give them reasons why it's important for them to do the work required for the class.  Didn't they sign up for the class?  Didn't they invest the fees and purchase the books?  And while I muse about why I shouldn't have to do this, the fact remains that I am part cheerleader, convincing my students everyday about the value inherent in working for something.  If you do the work, you'll be rewarded with pride in the outcome.  If you slack off, your success is directly related to your effort.

I can only make my pitch, and then get out of the way of their actions.  They're outcome is not a reflection of my effort; it's theirs. (This rings true for the children, too, by the way.)

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Sometimes, although not as much lately, I have to persuade myself to believe in myself.  I am extremely self-deprecating.  If you're even perused this blog a little bit, you can see that I have doubted myself at every turn.  This is the year, however, that I turn that around and start acting with integrity, standing up for what I believe in and not second guessing myself.  I'm thinking that I'm going to be hard to convince, but I'm hoping that I can give myself enough examples of how I'm doing the best I can do (see this, and this) and that what other moms, co-workers, friends, acquaintances are doing or feeling about me is none of my business.  That ought to do it--my life, my way.

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How do you use persuasion?

I Want What I Want When I Want It -- the 7-year-old version

Conversation between me and T1 at our niece's Bat Mitzvah this past weekend:

Me:  Oh look, honey, you get to sit at a table with all kids; you don't have to sit with your parents.  Won't that be fun?

T1:  Okay.  I want to sit with G (cousin) and all the other boys.

Me:  Let's see.  Oh, you're at the (Broadway-themed) "Hairspray" table and G is at the "Fiddler on the Roof" table.

T1:  No!  I don't want to sit at the "Hairspray" table.  It's a bunch of girls!!  I want to sit with G!

Me:  But his table is full.  There are already nine 10-year-old boys at that table.  Your at the table with the littler kids.

T1:  I WANT TO SIT AT G'S TABLE!!  I DON'T WANT TO SIT WITH ALL GIRLS!!

(Tantrum escalating--speeches ensuing from the stage--7-year-old voice carrying with amazing range in the auditorium acoustics--me beginning to feel heads turning and eyes glaring)

Me:  Calm down, honey.  There's nothing I can do about it.  (My voice starting to raise too as I pull him by the hand into the bathroom).

T1:  WHHHHWAAAAAAAAA

Me: (virtual steam rising from my ears.....voice in my head saying, "oh suck it up, little guy.  It's just a dinner.  My God! but actually saying:)  How about you sit with Daddy and me?  There are other cousins at our table.

T1: I want to sit with G!

Me: There are no seats there.  You CAN'T sit there.  Want Daddy and me to sit with you at the "Hairspray" table?

T1:  Nooooooo.  I won't do it!!!!!

Me: (exasperated) I'm guessing this situation is making you feel left out.  Like you don't belong where you've been put.  How would you like this situation to be?  How can you solve this problem?

T1:  I want you to ask Aunt B to put another chair at G's table.  Just go ask her.

Me:  (wanting so badly to rectify this "gross injustice" as I figure this MUST feel to my son.  Wanting to swoop in and stop the tantrum, the disappointment, the frustration, but knowing that doing so will cripple my son in the future when he must manage any and all situations when he doesn't get what he wants when he wants it)

Me:  No. . . .   I can't do that.  

T1:  Pleeeeeessssee, Mommy?   (gasp, sob)

Me:  What can YOU do?

T1:  Can I ask G to put another chair at his table?

Me:  That may be a good plan.  Why don't you try it.

(T1 runs off to consult with G about all things boy that, I was beginning to quickly learn, include being sat at the right table.  I hold my breath, watching over the ballroom as the exchange goes on.  I try not to look.  I don't want to see the tear-stained face return, crest fallen because I know what's going to happen next.  He's gone.  He doesn't come back.  I reluctantly sit down to my own dinner, anxious.  Where is he?  What happened?  Should I go look for him?  Is he okay?  Is he crying somewhere in a corner?  Is he at G's table?  I spy him.  He's got a plate of food; he's headed for G's table.  A chair is waiting for him.  Wow, he did it, I say to myself.)

We are so much alike, T1 and I.  Every milestone he makes over his sensitivity and social awkwardness is a triumph for me.  It's something I struggled with so much in my childhood and want so badly for him not to have to feel.  But I know it's going to happen.  Can I sit on my hands and let him have his moments?  Even the disappointing ones?  I'm going to have to.  That's my job.

Remind me to call my mom and tell her I appreciate all the anguish she must have endured raising us.  Think I'm going to go get her a medal....

And the Camp Mom Award for Engaged Kids goes to Team Twins!

One of the best benefits of my job as a professor is having summers off (mostly--I usually have to work for 6 weeks of it) with my kids.  It means that I don't have to scramble to find some stimulating activity for them from the 3rd week in June until September 1st.  Here's where it gets complicated though.  Since I do have to work a little in the summer AND my semester begins at the wildly inconvenient time of the 3rd week in August, I do have to put the kids in some kind of part-time summer activity day camp.  This year, they did summer school and camp through the local school district and seemed to have a really good time.

Summer is almost over and the kids will be heading back to school with what I hope are sweet memories of our travels, fun days at summer day camp, and time at home with each other and me.  As a working mom, I always look forward to the time I get at home with them.  I get to be a stay-at-home mom for a sweet month.  And I always dream that this time will be filled with crafts and art projects, baking and swimming and card-playing.  Instead, I'm distracted by my own desire to read or sew or edit photos--write a blog, maybe.  It's mind boggling how I can want to be with them so badly, and when we are together for a day, I struggle with giving them my undivided attention.

Cut to 7-year-old twins being silly, ramping each other up, getting critical about who is getting what turn, and then, ultimately, trying to kill each other from the togetherness.  Quick, Mom, do something!!!! It's time to engage (like Elastigirl says to Mr. Incredible).

Enter Camp Mom.  I thought if I could replicate all the fun of camp at home and give the kiddies some purpose for the time together, we'd all have a better summer.  I came up with a schedule of activities for the whole day.  Campers had to tidy up their "cabins" (rooms), pick a team mascot (stuffed animal), and create a team song to perform during the night time "campfire."  We had a scooter race, obstacle course, scavenger hunt (otherwise know as shopping at Trader Joe's).  They created cards for their grandfather, something I had begged them to do for days, that they were finally willing to do under the guise of the "Bon Voyage Boat Craft" at Camp Mom.

At the end of Camp Mom, teams were awarded "Trophies" that they had helped design.

There were a few teachable moments during the day.  The team competitions really had them in a frenzy over fairness.  Having points awarded based on being the fastest or jumping the farthest taught them about sportsmanship (after a considerable amount of crying).  Creativity points were awarded to the most thoughtful mascot decoration or "cabin" arrangement, presenting them with a stronger sense of perseverance and attention to detail. T1 said at one point, "I was having so much fun that I forgot that I hadn't played my DS!" Really?  You mean I can get your face out of that machine by providing you with a creative endeavor that speaks to your sense of competition?  Why had I never tried this before?

More than the success of Camp Mom as far as the kids were concerned, (trophies! field trips! treats!) was the complete sense of engagement with each other.  I got what I had been looking for all summer. While I know that this wasn't rocket science, and that creative moms do stuff like this everyday, for me, it was a triumph over the anxiety that sometimes takes over when I try to figure out how I'm going to be with my kids and accomplish all the things that fulfill me at the same time.  I gave myself over completely to the nurturing of these children, without the distraction of the work that I wanted to get done, for this one day, and it felt right.

While we were at the park, me orchestrating an obstacle course race, another parent commented on what we were doing.  "That's quite a system you've got going there.  Have you been doing this all summer?"  I laughed.  "Are you kidding?" I said, "we've only been doing this for today!"  But for that one day, we were a unit--like a real camp.  We had a common goal--to have fun together--and that we did. 

Think I should put together Camp Mom for this fall?  Hmmmm.

Wonder of Wonders --Miracles of Miracles

Last Sunday, I met an old friend for brunch.  She recently had a baby (her second after a 19-year gap--long but good story for another day).  He's so cuddly, sticky, drooly, chunky, gotta squeeze his cheeks!  I was enthralled with this baby, and so is she.  I love how she appreciates the time she has with him, and she's over the moon about his every move.  It was like I was transported back to the days when the twins were little babies and I could not get enough of their cooing, emerging personalites.  T2 used to bounce in that vibrating bouncy seat for hours--long after she was too big for it; T1 had a perpetual third eye in the middle of his forehead when he turned 1 from crashing into the couch edge in an overzealous effort to run.  I was nostalgic for my babies and the time when discoveries were happening in every hour of the day.  I loved watching them change and grow daily.

As they've grown, I've learned that changes happen at differently at every developmental stage.  Sometimes these changes are monumental -- wiping their own bottoms! --buckling their own seat belts!  Sometimes they are colossal challenges.  And each time I think I've got this mommy thing figured out, it changes again. 

And sometimes, they surprise me with a wonderful change that I could not have seen coming even if it was a freight train heading right toward me.  Remember this I posted about 2 weeks ago?

Here's how it looked when I got home from  brunch on Sunday afternoon.

All on his own, unprompted, T1 CLEANED his own room!  He organized the items on the desk. (notice the ordered bowling pins?  My dad's league bowling trophies in chronological order) Yes, people, he even threw some things away.  My little man is growing up, and oh, how I hope this desire for neatness sticks, even if it's just every once in a while.

Not to be outdone, and because she cannot ever resist any competition, T2 cleaned her own room too.  Witness the before and after:

B

Before

After

I entered their rooms with my eyes closed when they wanted to show me what they'd done.  Proud smiles emblazoned across their faces.  This was something they did without me or my husband asking or nagging.  It was something they did not wait for us to take care of for them.  And wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, they found buried new things to play with.  And the world opened up anew, magically, just as when they, as babies, discovered they could crawl to the brightly colored toy across the room.

I'll take this magic any time they want to cast a spell my way.

"She said what?!?!" -- Confessions of a Mom-Gossip

Many of my friends and I became mothers around the same time.  Most of my closest friends these days are those who I met when my kids were babies.  It's funny because I seem to be looking, constantly searching for camaraderie, from people who share my experience or who have been through the same experience so that I can learn from them.  But I'm learning a valuable lesson from this searching.  No one shares your exact same experience, and while other mothers will have struggles with the same issues I struggle with, I can't base my actions or opinions on what others' actions are.  I must make my own way. 

I say this because I've been thinking a lot about how moms tend to be in competition with each other over the best way to nurture, feed, educate, and even diaper their children (see the discussion over at Mommywords.)  One mom feeds her children only nutritious food with nary a sugary snack in sight and only organic fruits and vegetables; another mom attachment-parents her baby while another is Ferber-ing and night weaning; in the last 2 decades, the classic SAHM vs. working mom debate has reached mammoth proportions; public school, private school, home school; television or not.  It's constant--everywhere--especially in the blogosphere.

I have found myself caught up in this gossip mill sometimes.  I've said, "I would NEVER...." and "I can't believe she...."  I've searched like-minded individuals who have shared my opinions and unknowingly, under the guise of making more sense and resolve out of my own decisions, have bashed unsuspecting mothers whose choices are different from mine.  I've made comments based on my beliefs without thinking about how others might feel criticized.  This behavior has weighed very heavy on my mind lately.  I feel so badly about my past gossipy tendencies, and I am making a change. 

My daughter has very strong opinions and never hesitates to voice them as she sees fit.  I practice reflecting her feelings back to her, in a very neutral way, so that she knows she's been heard and acknowledged.  However, I almost always follow that reflective listening with a "but...." and then spew forth my own opinion and rationalization or belief that is meant to get her to think beyond her feelings and see my point of view.  Eliminating the "but..." is part of my new change in relating to other moms.  I don't think it's productive to echo a mom's feelings about how she's coping with some new dramatic change in her child's behavior/health/education and then negate it all with a "but....here's what I think...."

I'm not saying that I don't want to hear how others are coping and even get suggestions, like I mentioned above.  I want to know what you've done that works for you.  Maybe it would work for me too.  What I'm making a conscious effort to do now is see everyone's path for what it's worth.  We all want the same basic thing--to help our children grow into strong, independent, confident beings who navigate the social waters like experienced sailors using all the tools taught to them by the experienced sailors before them.  It's my job to be the example I want them to follow.  I can't very well teach my twins how to treat others the way they want to be treated if I'm engaging in clandestine character assassination.  I need to be done judging.

In "Bad Mother" Aleyet Waldman discusses how she saw her first "bad mother" on a train--a woman who pulled her daughter's hair as she was putting it into a ponytail.  She relays how she was mortified at how this woman could do such a thing, in public, no less.  She says we moms are constantly trying to live up to some unrealistic expectation and when we see others who fail to meet that expectation, we judge them.  I've judged and been judged, and I really want to let that drama go from my life.  Waldman says the definition of a reasonable good mother is, "one who loves her kids and does her level best not to damage them in any permanent way. A good mother doesn't let herself be overcome by guilt when she screws up."

This is my goal for today--I'm gonna try not to screw it up, but if I do, I'm gonna cry to you, who will lift me up, and I won't feel guilty about it.

On Your Mark, Get Set, Go!!!!!

Competition brings out the best and the worst in some people.  In kids, it's a little glimpse into how they're going to relate to others when they grow up.  Case in point--The All City Track Meet.  Here are the kids at the beginning of the cacophonous, frenetic, team-spirited event.

All smiles--Whoop-de-doo!  Happy as can be.  Ready to take on their events, run fast, pass batons, have fun.  Here they are at the end of the event.

After all the ribbons had been presented.  After they LOST their events.  What?  you say, but they've got ribbons.  What gives?  Yes, they were in relay races against 2 other teams.  All the relay team members got ribbons.  T2 didn't even run.  She was the alternate. 

But the individual events is where I really got to see my twins' sensibilities, and in the individual events is where the teachable moment lies. 

When T1 didn't win, he said, "Oh well, at least I got a medal for the relay. It was fun." 

"Good for you!" I said.  That's right, you did your best and you had fun.  Let's go home and have a cool drink and celebrate your maturity.

T2 cried.  Sobbed.  Said she was robbed.  The other girls cheated.  Little Miss Competitive.  She was more than a little disappointed.  And seriously unwilling to take responsibility for the outcome.  The blaming is where I thought to act.  How can I ease that feeling of pain that comes when you have an expectation that doesn't pan out?  I know that feeling.  I'm holding back tears too watching her process this sad emotion that inevitably comes as children learn about the ya-win-some-ya-lose-some lessons of the world.

"Did you do your best?" I asked. 

"Yes," she sighs, "but my back still hurts from the bruise." (Long story of a mishap with some stone steps.)

"You know what?" I ask, "you're right.  That must be still smarting you.  And not placing makes it feel worse.  For next year, we can practice.  I've got a stop watch....."

Her eyes light up.  "Right!" she says.  I can see the brain going.  "Let's run everyday.  You can time me and see if I can do it faster."

A-ha.  Will she grow and begin to see that she is the only one who can mold the outcome of her life?  Did I do the right thing?  (If you ascribe to Carol Dweck's Mindset, then yes, I guess).  For how long will hugs ease the sting of losing?

Forever, I hope.