You Mean You Have One of THOSE Kids Too?

"I thought I was the only one in the world who was raising a difficult child."

That was one reader's response to my post last week. The one that I agonized over before finally clicking "Publish." After all, as a parenting writer and educator, aren't I supposed to be entirely on top of my kids? Aren't I supposed to be able to gently guide them, parent them, help them get along with each other without fail?

The truth is that some kids are just easier than others. And if you don't have a child like mine, you won't understand. But if you do have a child like mine...you're nodding your head and grimacing as you read about the reality you live through every day.

"He refuses to shower, he's gone to sleep in his clothes the past few nights, refuses to go with his carpool so I have to take him to school every day....Oh, its a lot of fun."

Please don't judge this reader, unless you have a child like this. A child who sends his siblings off to school covered in scratches and bruises -- all caused by a tantrum because Mommy tried to lay down the law. And before you get out the phone to call the cops on this out of control abusive kid...

He's five years old.

Yes, if you have a child "like that," rest assured that you're not the only one. I sometimes think that the most important part of the parenting groups that I lead isn't even the techniques that we discuss -- although parents find them extremely helpful -- but the feeling of relief when all the moms realize that they're not the only ones who are struggling. One mom talks about her toddler who climbs on the dining room table and spins the chandelier like a top, and another mom gasps, "Yours too??" One mom complains that her five year old daughter has started intentionally ignoring everything she says, to the point that they visited the ENT just in case she was having hearing problems, and three more say, "Wow, you're kidding! I thought only my daughter did that!"

But these problems are relatively normal, mostly age appropriate. Kids who have issues with social skills...with impulsivity...with obeying authority...These kids are the ones whose moms are constantly stared at by the other moms at the playground. They watch that mom fail to set a limit and think, "If that were my child, I would never let him behave like that." The ones who seem to act so normally for a little while and then suddenly -- BAM! -- explode.

I guess, to some degree, it's a gift that I struggle so much with Bub, a gift that I struggle to teach him about communicating with others, about keeping his hands to himself, about obeying even when you think you know better. After a parenting group session recently, one mom came over to me and bared her soul to me. She told me about her daughter, age 4, who she's pretty sure has ADHD but is too young to get an official diagnosis. Her daughter, unsurprisingly, sounded almost exactly like my eldest. She was shocked to hear that I "have one of those too," and that it was he, primarily, who pushed me to become an addict to parenting research and advice.

So yes, we exist out there in the world. We are the moms whose little ones don't seem to conform to the norms. We are the moms who have kids that look normal, who don't have an official diagnosis (yet?) for us to apologetically fall back on, but who force us to dig down inside ourselves and wrench out every last ounce of patience that we have. We are the moms who often feel so alone, so downtrodden, so sure that everyone else in the world would parent our kids better than we do.

But we're not alone. There are so many of us out there who are struggling -- some less, and some much much more. And yes, others might not understand, others might judge, but there is a firm core of us who are working harder than anyone out there to give our difficult-to-raise kids the best childhood that we can, to help them focus their fiery personalities onto the fuse that will rocket them to success.

Don't let anyone -- including your own insecurities -- tell you otherwise.

Mommy Fail?

This afternoon, Bub once again threw several tantrums -- one about doing homework, one because I asked him to stop teasing Boash by grabbing away his new toy, and one because I asked him to take some time to relax and calm down before he re-entered the playroom.

Rumbling like an subsiding volcano, he finally threw himself on the couch, pulled a blanket over himself, and proceeded to ignore the world. From underneath his lair, I occasionally heard a harumphing sound that meant he hated me and was mad at the world.

What a mommy fail, I thought.

Finally, he emerged and started down the stairs to the playroom. My four year old, who had come home from school in an equally grumpy mood, was down there playing by himself. I listened carefully, bracing myself for the eruption that I knew would ensue. Bub's first remark caught me off guard.

Bub: "Hey Boo, you wanna do cartwheels and handstands with me?" [A rare invitation to play]

Boo: "NOO!" [grumbling]

Bub: "Boo...I know you're feeling kind of, you know, ugggggh. You remember I was in a bad mood before? I was all, like, mfnshtnaaaargh! And then I lay down on the couch near Mommy with the blanket over me all the way, and I just had some time alone under there and rested, and then when I came out I was like this. See how happy I am now? If you need to rest, or be by yourself, go do that now and then you'll feel better like me. And then we could play together!"

[Pause]

Boo: "Wanna jump on the trampoline with me?"

Bub: "Yeah! Let's go!"

Um...Mommy fail?

I'm reminded of a horrible (free) parenting class that I took several years ago when Bub was a toddler. The lecturer did make one good point, though. She talked about how we had to rethink the meaning of the word "worked" when it came to parenting techniques. That just because giving into a tantrum calms the child down, doesn't mean that it "worked" at all. And that just because a technique doesn't stop a tantrum in its tracks or morph our child into an angel, doesn't mean that it didn't "work."

I thought that none of the empathy and guidance I had given him today had worked. If I hadn't overheard his advice to his younger brother, I would have considered myself a failure.

Something to remember, next time you think you've committed the dreaded #mommyfail.

My Son, the Villain

Recently, my son has been acting as the villain in our family. And I've been subconsciously viewing myself as SuperMom, saving the innocent victims from his clutches.

I can just imagine how I've been sounding:

"Bub, stop playing with the windowshades. I've told you -- they're going to break. I said stop. NOW. Why on earth didn't you stop? You just broke them!"

"I know, you don't want to do your homework. [There, I empathized.] Now get your notebook out and do it as quickly so we'll have time to ride bikes before dinner....Bub, you've wasted so much time that we won't have time to ride bikes this afternoon anymore."

"Bub, get away from your brother. You need to stay on the other side of the room now. We don't use our hands to hurt people. Yes, I understand you were really upset at him because you wanted his toy. You still need to use your words."

"Bub, he said STOP. He doesn't like what you're doing. He said stop! NOW. Fine, you didn't stop, go to your room. You HURT him. Why on earth do you HURT him? Poor kid, he wasn't doing anything to you."

"Bub, it's time to take a shower. Bub, please go NOW. I don't appreciate being ignored. You know the rule. If you go right away, you get books before bedtime. If not, no books. Fine, that's your choice? If you say so...No, you already made a choice. We'll try again tomorrow night."

"Bub, why can't I go to the bathroom for two minutes without you hurting someone? STOP it. Next time I go to the bathroom you'll need to go in a different room from your brothers. No, I can't trust you, even if you tell me that you won't hurt them. You've shown me that I can't trust you with them when I'm out of the room. Prove to me that you can treat them nicely, and I'll be able to trust you with them again."

"BUB GET OFF YOUR BROTHER! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO HIM? LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!"

Notice a pattern here? Lots of sibling rivalry, lots of Mommy trying to stay calm and use the techniques that she knows she should (empathy, choices), and lots of Mommy starting to leak frustration out of her pores. And then, finally, the embarrassing climax, usually in response to out-of-control violence against one of his brothers.

I know that Bub is a difficult child to raise. I also know that he has a hard time with social cues (such as "STOP! I don't like that!") and with staying focused (can you say "ADHD"?). He also has a quick temper and plenty of impulsivity. Combine that with a younger brother who is quick to whine and complain, and a healthy (?) dose of sibling rivalry, and it's like a pile of TNT near a slowly burning match.

We've had our ups and downs. The past couple of weeks have been a Grand Canyon kind of down. This morning we hit rock bottom. In my mind, he was once again the evil villain in our family's story, picking on his younger brothers so that they were miserable and scared of him all the time. Luckily, this afternoon I also had an interview scheduled with one of the most inspirational and powerful parenting experts of all time: Dr. Laura Markham.

She talked about how our kids' feelings are true FOR THEM even if we don't understand them. Even if objectively they're wrong...from their perspective, their feelings are valid. And we can empathize with them anyway.

She talked about reframing. Swapping the attitude of "The nerve! How could he say that!" with "Obviously, if he's saying that, he's very upset. How can I help him deal with this?"

She talked about how if a child is misbehaving even after you've had a heart-to-heart with him, multiple times, there are two possibilities:
1) You're not giving your child enough support.
2) There isn't enough support in the world that could help your child behave in this situation.

She talked about so much more. About empathy. About staying calm. About setting limits respectfully.

I hung up the phone, excited to share this inspiration with the world. A few hours later, Bub came home. He flopped down on the floor of our foyer, looked up at my brazenly, and said, "I don't WANT to do homework today. Homework is stupid. I want to go play."

My first thought was...I'm toast. If this is how he walks through the door, I can just imagine what the rest of the afternoon will be like. Usually, homework is the one thing he doesn't give me a hard time about.

But instead of getting frustrated or antsy, even with two other boys vying for my attention, I followed the script Dr. Markham had essentially laid out for me this morning:

Me: Wow, you're really not in the mood to do homework today.
Bub: Yeah, I hate doing homework. I don't want to do it.
Me: You'd rather be able to just run downstairs and play, huh?
Bub: Yeah. Homework is so boring. I know all the stuff anyway.
Me: You feel like it's all just review, and you know it all, so why should you have to do it all over again?
Bub: It's like last year all over again. Why do they make us learn this stuff over and over again?
Me: Wow, it's really stuff you learned last year?
Bub: Yeah. I don't want to do it.
Me: I hear you. You really don't want to do it. Hm. So now what?
Bub: Huh? Aw, you're going to make me do it anyway. I am NOT going to.
Me: I know, you wish that there was NO such thing as homework. Who needs homework anyway, right?
Bub: Yeah. It just doesn't make any sense. They make us review our spelling words over and over again.
Me: So spelling is especially boring to you.
Bub: Yeah. Eyewitness News is neat. But that's because it's new this year. We'll have it again next year, and it won't be neat anymore. It'll be old.
Me: You're scared it will be boring. Wait, but next year there will be new news, right?
Bub: Oh, right. And like, chumash is okay. That's new. And sometimes we learn new things in Mrs. B's class...

I won't bore you with the rest of the conversation. It was LONG. The other kids needed my attention too. I told them I would come down to them in a few minutes to check on them and they could ask me for anything they needed then. But for about FIFTEEN MINUTES I focused on Bub.

And a miracle happened.

My inflexible, stubborn villain, the one who had been driving me nuts all weekend, gathered up his books and headed to the table to do his homework. On his own, without a threat from me, without a lecture about how it's important to review his material for school (he knows that) or about how his teachers will be disappointed if he doesn't do his homework (ditto). He sat down at the table and flew through his homework in about three minutes.

And then my son, the villain, offered to share his special pad of drawing paper with his brothers. And to help his younger brother get a snack. And to get my groceries out of the car. And to make a card for our neighbor who isn't feeling well.

I gave my son, the villain, fifteen minutes that I didn't have time for. With three kids clamoring for attention, I often feel like fifteen minutes is fifteen hours...time that I just don't have.

It was fifteen minutes that changed the next three hours into a miracle.

My son, the villain, has been vanquished -- at least for today. Today, my son, the superhero, reigned supreme.