Update: Parenting with Love & Logic. Some of it even works...

One week or so on from this post, I'm still trying to introduce the 'Parenting with Love and Logic' principles into the Potski home.  How have we made out?  Well, here are a few things we've achieved;

1.  A (mostly) drama free piano lesson for Boy #2.  (Click here to see details of last week's fiasco) Sure, he did show some reluctance to start the lesson but when I reminded him his pocket money privileges would be cancelled out for a second week running (never mind the cost of his lesson being deducted from his savings once again), he pulled himself together and went in.

Mind you, if I'm honest? What really clinched it was his being put in charge of the alarm clock I put in the room to make sure his lovely - but somewhat over enthusiastic - piano teacher did not follow her usual pattern of over-running the lesson by 20 minutes or more (which it turned out was his main bugbear).  The result was that when the alarm sounded 30 minutes later, he actually said "That was a short lesson!" and was happy to continue for another 5 minutes whilst she went through his homework with him.  Although of course the extra time required resetting the alarm clock - himself -  took almost all of the 5 minutes more he'd agreed to.  (Note to self; dig out an alarm clock that's easier to operate)

It's all about the technology.  Boys and their toys...

2.  A smooth transfer of responsibility - from me to the Boys - for packing completed homework into rucksacks the same evening it's been done.  Yes, I'm still prompting them to put it away (and admittedly their Dutch school homework somehow managed to escape everyone's notice), but the prompt is now less of the 'Put it away now!' and more of the 'Do you think it's a good idea to leave that lying on the table when we're about to have dinner and it could get food or drink on it?' variety.  (Admittedly, this was very much helped by Boy #2's knocking over a full glass water on his 'Non-waterproof, Mama - NON WATERPROOF!' folder only moments after he had told me he would do it later...)

3.  More help laying the table in the mornings.  Also still prompted, but once more along the lines of pointing out that if they take responsibility for doing that, then I can take responsibility for making their school lunch...

4.  Both Boys remembering to put their own lunchbox into their school rucksacks.  On the one hand, I know this seems like a paltry task.  Why should it be something that bothers me, doing it for them?  Well, maybe because I can see this still happening in 2 years time. Or 5. Or when they are 18 years old and heading back to uni with their duffle bag of clean laundry (note to self - start training Boys how to sort colours from whites now...).

Please note: we have some way still to go.  There is plenty of work to be done, not least by me in controlling my inner drill sergeant and putting her back in her box when she tries to take control, instead of  sitting back and letting my sons find out for themselves what happens when they don't take responsibility for themselves.  But today something happened that gave me hope.  At the end of school, whilst waiting with me for his younger brother to finish what he was doing, Boy #1 and I had the following exchange:

Boy #1:  "Do I have to wear my snow pants home, Mum?"

Me (thinking you're just getting over flu, you've got a horrible cough, of COURSE you have to wear your snow pants home): "Not if you don't want to, no. But if you don't, no complaining if you get cold."

Boy #1: "Oh.  OK.  But it is still snowing, right?"

Me: "Yes, it's still snowing."

Boy #1:  "Do you know what temperature it is?"

Me:  "About minus 4 degC."

Boy #1: "Alright."

Puts on his snow pants.

Now.  If only I can get this to work with Boy #2...

Parenting, 21st Century Style. I hope.

Sometimes, being a parent is just. plain. exhausting.

Before I even start this post properly, I want to say that most of the time my Boys are a delight.  I look around me, at the issues and problems some other parents face with their kids and think; we haven't done so badly.  No, actually, forget the British understatement; we've done bloody well.  We won the lottery when we were gifted with two such wonderful sons, and I will never - NEVER - forget that.

But.  They are still children.  They are still boys.  They are still extremely normal - along with all that goes with it.  

Recently I've been solo-parenting for most of the working week.  I take my hat off to those who do it full-time and permanently; I've been doing it most Monday-Fridays since August (holidays excepted), and it's hard work.  The smallest fly in the ointment at 7.30 am can alter the tone of an entire day, and to avoid that, I have to admit to have fallen back on trying to be super-organised.  A place for everything, everything in it's place.  Snow boots by the back door, library books always on the same table, school bags packed with homework the night before, school clothes set out the previous evening's bathtime, etc etc.  We're like a well-oiled machine, the Boys and I.

Except, of course, we aren't.  I am.  In my quest for a simpler life, I have to admit to having picked up 90% of the slack on tasks that probably should be responsibilities of my sons.

It makes life smoother, I chose to tell myself.  Sure, I probably shouldn't be the one to pack Boy #1's lunch box into his school bag in the morning - he is 9, after all - but what if he forgets it?  I'm only going to end up having to go back into school with it, an extra journey I can do without.  No, I'll just do whilst he's lying on the sofa snatching a last few minutes with Harry Potter before school;  at least then I know it's done.  And as for Boy #2, what of it if I'm the one to pull his snow pants off the hook for him, lay them out on the floor for him to meander up to when he's finished messing about with lego and slowly pull on whilst the rest of us are waiting at the front door?  Does it really matter who gets them out as long he has them on?  It's minus 10degC out there, after all - he can't go out without them...

But deep down I knew that I wasn't really doing the Boys any favours.  Sure, I was doing myself a favour in the short term - putting my mind at rest that Boy #1 had his lunch, getting Boy #2 to school on time in spite of himself -  but in the longer term, will I still be doing these things for them when they are 11 and 9?  15 and 13?  18 and 16?  It doesn't bear thinking about.  

I can't help thinking that it's time to let go a little.

Last week I went to a seminar that used 'Parenting with Love and Logic' as a tool to help us do that.  It's an interesting book that has as one of it's central tenets the fact that unless we give children the opportunities to make choices - including, occasionally, the wrong ones - and to try, succeed and sometimes fail all on their own merits, we are not allowing them to 'own' their choices, to develop confidence in themselves, and are not giving them the best start in life.  

The writers of the book argue that those of us who are helicopter parents (not me), or drill sergeants (regrettably, sometimes me) are not helping our children become healthy successfully functioning adults in the way that we would be able to do if we adopted more of a consultation approach.  If we would stand back, and let our children do the thinking.  Yes, we should give them firm rules and guidelines, guidance when required or when they ask for it, and a safe and always loving structure from within which to do that, but we should let our children make their own informed decisions and deal with the consequences (excepting, of course, when they put themselves in life-threatening situations).  Essentially, the book suggests that if we can help children learn to rely on and trust their own inner voice from a relatively young age - by not deafening them with our instructions and commands from outside - then they will be better equipped to rely on and trust their own sense of self-worth when they get older.  When we won't be there to give advice or to suggest that perhaps climbing into the car driven by their friend who's sunk 5 pints of lager at a party might not be such a good idea.

For example...  So, Boy #1 might forget his lunch.  He'll probably only do it once.  And Boy #2 might get cold when he sets foot outside.  You can be damn sure he'll rush into his snow pants the next time I ask.  Right?

It's an interesting theory.  Today was the day that I started to put it into practice.  

Boy #1 was ill and had to stay home (the best laid plans, and all that), but other than that we had a good start without quite as much moaning and complaining I usually get from Boy #2 ('Love & Logic approach to getting into the snow pants; 'Oh look, it's -9.5degC this morning.  Do you want to put your snow pants on inside, Boy #2, or in the car?  If you're going to take your time that's fine but then you will need to put them on the car...' Unsurprisingly inside - and putting them on quickly - was chosen).  

But then we crashed and burned spectacularly after school.  

Boy #2 has piano lessons almost immediately after school on Mondays.  He loves them - once I can get him into the room.  Unfortunately, that part - the getting him into the room - is the tricky bit.  Today was no exception as he raced upstairs the moment we got home and started working on a complicated lego creation.  I wasn't too concerned; we'd discussed the fact it was piano today both in school and on the way home, he knew his teacher was coming.  Everything - I thought - would be fine.

Ha.  Ha ha ha.

There was no piano lesson.  I had to send the teacher away without having actually taught a single note.    On the plus side, Boy #2 has now learned that in that situation I WILL take the cost the of the wasted lesson out of his savings and that the lego he wanted to play with WILL stay on the top shelf until next week. He has also learned that not showing age-appropriate behaviour will result in no tv for the rest of the day.  This is the one that REALLY hit home, of course.  

I also managed to stay calm, collected, and sympathetic through the subsequent 'You're not being fair's', the 'I don't like you very much today's' and so on - and most importantly, not to give in and to hold my nerve despite repeated pleading.

But I feel terrible for the poor teacher who came all the way over to us despite the fact that her car was in the garage for repairs; using the tram, bus and minibus to get here.  I feel a hot wave of shame when I think about it, to be honest.  That a child of mine would be so spoilt as to do that to a highly qualified teacher who, quite frankly, did not have to add him to her already over-crowded schedule when I begged her to do so last September.  I have to admit that stings. I think she understood.  She certainly told me she did - but that's not the point.

However, as I wrote to my husband earlier when I wanted to fill him in and be sure we were singing from the same hymn book when he called to speak to the children this evening, this is not about me.  I wrote;

'Am trying a new approach - out of that book I'm reading - where we make these issues their problems rather than ours.  For example, the cancellation of the lesson is his problem. The apology he will need to give her is his problem.  The cost of the wasted lesson is his problem.  Not being allowed to play with the lego that prompted this - f0r a week - is his problem.  We can genuinely sympathise with how that makes him feel - that's a shame - but we don't give in. These are his problems and he must deal with the consequences.'

Watch this space to see how it pans out...