"Mom of the Year," for Slapping and Cursing? What Toya Graham Can Teach Us

Living in Baltimore, I've turned into a news junkie recently, glued to new feeds about the riots going on nearby. Yesterday, though, I was struck by one viral video of a mother named Toya Graham, physically assaulting her son who was taking part in the riots, insisting that he leave and go home. Commentor after commenter lauded her iron-clad approach, saying that this was a mom who knew her responsibility and was willing to do anything to keep her child safe. She was praised as "Mom of the Year."

I was shocked.

I understand that it's difficult to comment on a culture that you are not a part of. I also understand that this was an extreme situation -- in Toya Graham's mind, a matter of life and death for her son. I would be the last person to pass judgement on a woman who was in a crazy situation and reacted more strongly than she would have on a regular basis. But to give this mother the "mom of the year" title? That made me angry.

Why? Because I've been that mom. No, I haven't cursed at my kids, nor have I walloped them on their heads. But I've been that mom who felt that there was no other way to get my kids to stop other than by using a violent or disrespectful technique (if you could call it that), and who tried to rationalize it to myself afterwards.

There is nothing wrong with picking up a child and moving her away from a situation. But if you find yourself holding her more tightly than necessary, purely because of your frustration, or saying hurtful words about her character or about your feelings towards her...that's over the top. And it's very normal to want to rationalize to yourself that it's the only way she'll listen, the only way you can get your point across. Unfortunately, the point that you're getting across when you overreact to a situation because of your own fear, anger, or stress, is not the one you hope to get across.

Kids get the message that if you're upset at someone else, you can let your anger out on them.
Kids get the message that if you're stronger than someone else, you can hurt them.
Kids get the message that you think they're a pain to be around.
Kids get the message that they're not safe.
Kids get the message that you're the enemy, since you're treating them like one.
Kids get the message that violence is a valid response to anger.

That doesn't mean that you should eat yourself up with guilt when you blow up at your kids. It means recognizing that there were other techniques that could have helped the situation, and promising yourself that you'll use those techniques next time instead of falling prey to a "fight or flight" response. It means acknowledging that you're flawed, apologizing to your child, and assuring them that you'll try your hardest to respond in a better way next time. It means showing your kids that there is strength in asking for forgiveness, and that even adults need to work on themselves.

But if you award yourself the title "Mom of the Year" because it was the only way to get the message across, know that you're lying to yourself and cheating your kids.

Be honest. Be respectful. And teach your child the messages that you want them to learn, instead of the ones you're teaching them by mistake.

The Mommy-Kid Communication Breakthrough

"I hate talking. Don't make me talk about it."

That's what my first grader, Bub, says. Every time I mete out some sort of discipline, even if it's only a verbal rebuke, he responds by clamming up and refusing to talk. Which means that any discussion about what happened turns into a Mommy lecture, by default.

This was not working.

It was obviously a Mommy Mistake. But what was I supposed to do about it? I tried waiting a while and talking to him about it after he cooled down even several hours later, but he'd end up swapping his newly-found good mood for his previously-discarded bad mood again. I was out of ideas.

So when we had a blowup yesterday, I wasn't sure how to proceed. Bub had been bothering four-year-old Boo for a couple of minutes, despite my warnings. When I told Bub he needed to move away from Boo, Bub kicked him instead. Of course, this led to a howling protest from Boo, complete with plenty of tears. Bub, who has very little empathy for his brother, ignored these cries and started joking around with two-year-old Boash. Smiling. Laughing. Having a wonderful time while his hurt brother screamed in the background.

I was livid. I sent Bub out of the room because his joking was making Boo feel even more alone and upset. (I know from experience that helping Bub to show empathy at this point would have been futile.) We all calmed down a bit, and I went in and sat down next to Bub. He looked up at me, obviously dreading "the talk."

I took a deep breath. "Bub, I know that you don't want to talk about what happened. I also know that I think it's really important that we both understand what happened out there..."

"But I do know what happened out there, without you even telling me. So why do we have to talk about it?"

"The thing is, I'm not sure that we both think the same thing happened out there. Maybe we do. Can you write down what you think happened, and I'll tell you if I think the same thing happened?"

His eyes lit up. "Yeah!" He ran into the kitchen, grabbed a piece of scrap paper, and began to write furiously:

You were upset becaus I was doing a lot of stuff bad so you sent me into my room.

Okay, this was going to be harder than I thought. He obviously didn't understand exactly what happened, from my point of view. Would he let me tell him?

I sent you to your room because when I was upset and Boo was upset, you were laughing and smiling.

He looked at what I wrote, and it was as if a new app had just loaded into his brain. I saw in his eyes that he "got it" -- this is an issue I've been trying to emphasize to him recently, and I always feel that he's not getting it at all. But somehow, this mode of communication made things different. He scratched a huge check mark over the sentence. I tried again.

When you see that we are upset, can you try to see what is wrong and try to fix it? And not smile and joke?

Another big check, and a big smile. No grumbling, no clamming up. How did I not know this could be so easy?

"Can I write just one more thing?" I asked. I knew I was pushing my limits. His face tightened, but he let me take the pen.

I love you. Thank you. :)

He leaned toward me and snuggled into me. I kissed his head and held him tight. Then he jerked away and grabbed the pen.

I want to do this next time.

So do I, Bub. So do I.