Rising To The Occasion

It is often said that children will rise to the highest denominator yet sink to the lowest one. I've seen this myself with my own son; when he was the youngest child on his soccer team he played with all his heart and out shone the older children yet when he himself was the oldest, his efforts were sub par at best. On the playground playing with older children the bloodiest skinned knee doesn't even illicit a whimper yet the smallest bruise while playing with younger children has him crying to no end. This pattern has been on going for some time and I dare say, as we wrap up our first week of school, it is continuing.

Because of the small student body size (52 students spread across eight grades), as a first grader Sidney shares a class with the second grade. This results in an intimate class size that is still smaller than most single grade classes. This also means that he is interacting with older children on a regular basis. And as his history has shown, this is where he really shines. Actually his is glowing.

It seems as though my little boy has grown up over night. He is so proud of being a first grader that this identity has become his introductory mantra to everyone he meets. Whether it is in the grocery store, on the playground or on the street talking to a neighbor, Sidney is quick to tell everyone that he is now a "first grader at the Canadian school". In the morning he tells me that it is important to wear clean clothes to school because no one wants to sit next to someone who is dirty. On our walk to school I am informed that if you see trash on the street or the playground you need to pick it up and place it in the trash can because helping to keep the environment clean is the right thing to do. Sidney has adopted his teacher's favorite adjective "spectacular" as his own and uses the word to describe each activity. French class is spectacular as are math and music classes. Going to the playground is still his favorite school activity but it is now called recess. Each student has been given a sketch book to keep track of their art and they have drawn three pictures of themselves which are called "selfies". All of the classes meet together in the "maple leaf room" to discuss all school activities. Each of these activities is reported to me in thorough detail at the end of each school day. They are then repeated over dinner with the occasional additional detail being added in. All of this comes from the same child who upon being picked up from camp only reported that his day was good and he didn't remember what they did. I'm certainly not complaining but where has this instantaneous maturity come from? It is like he has become a whole new child overnight. I'll take it.

But then there is the bus. We had signed Sidney up to take the bus on the off chance that I didn't need to be on base in either the morning or afternoon. After the first day of school Sidney told me that he might want to ride the bus and after the second day he told me that he really wanted to ride the bus because according to him "first graders don't need their mothers to bring them to school". Really? We've talked about it and decided that starting next week he can take the bus home on the days when he doesn't have after school activities. In the mean time Sidney no longer holds my hand when we are walking up the street to the school and I am no longer allowed to cross the street with him to reach the school. Instead he gives me a wave and I watch while he crosses the road with the assistance of the crossing guard. Yes, my baby is growing up.

Just Call Me Coach

It was bound to happen sooner or later. After a year of settling in (?), recovering from our last posting (?), just focusing on my own family (?), a combination of all three and then some (?), I've finally jumped back into the fray. What fray you ask? The one of volunteering and getting involved in my community. Perhaps too involved but involved none the less.

After almost three intense years in Albania, I arrived in Belgium tired. Tired and burned out. So rather than jumping in with both feet the way I previously have done, I sat things out. I was still willing to help out if needed and specifically asked, but I no longer wanted to be in charge of things. I would contribute to the bake sale if asked or would provide treats for the class party but I didn't want to be the one organizing these activities. I dutifully brought Sidney to all of his activities but then I sat on the sidelines until it was time to leave. At first I felt bad about not actively participating but after a friend reassured me that I had "done my time" and that it was now someone else's turn to step up the the plate, I was determined to enjoy participating with out leading. And I did. Initially it was nice; I had time to do all of those things I had never had time for before. I went to the gym, took painting classes and French lessons and honed my cooking and baking skills. I took Sidney to soccer practice, swim lessons and play dates; we explored our neighborhood and went to the weekly story time at the library; we found the best playgrounds in the area and Sidney was introduced to the art of Tae Kwan Do. But gradually, despite all of this activity, it felt as though something was missing. I was going through all of the motions yet feeling oddly detached from it all. And that leads me to where I am today.

Sidney loved playing soccer last fall but as a parent, my frustrations with the way his team was organized drove me crazy. There were no shows, last minute cancellations and chaotic practices where the kids spent more time staring at the airplanes in the sky than they did kicking the ball. Sidney began to complain that it was boring and I repeatedly found myself thinking that I could organize the practices better. But, I stopped myself from complaining too much (or at least out loud) since the volunteer coaches had stepped forward to take the lead whereas I had deliberately decided not to. As someone who has organized my share of events and activities where people complained yet no one volunteered, I knew I was in no position to complain when I wasn't willing to do it myself.

Fast forward to spring soccer season --or spring football as they call it here--and I am now a coach. More specifically a friend and I are coaching our sons on their 4 and 5 year old developmental soccer team. I don't profess to know a whole lot about soccer but at this age understanding the intricacies of the game are less important than reliability, teaching good sportsmanship and having fun. Its sort of like herding cats but our little team of boys and a couple of girls are excited to be there. I'm excited to be on the field as well. The other parents seem relieved that some other parent has stepped up to the plate. But most importantly, Sidney is excited that I am there. He calls me "Coach Mom" and is thrilled to be back on the field and playing. I'm the proud owner of Soccer For Dummies, I've spend hours scouring the Internet for age appropriate drills and we're stumbling through. Its exhausting yet exhilarating and I'm having a great time.

So yes, I'm back in the game. Literally and figuratively. And as if this isn't enough of a challenge, I'm also volunteering with a couple of other new to me activities that excite me. But those stories are a blog entry for another day.

Celebrating The Month Of The Military Child

Every special interest group seems to have their own day, week, or month in which to be recognized and as such, April has been designated the "month of the military child". In 1986 then Secretary of Defense Casper Weinberger first designated April as the month to honor military children in an effort to recognize the contributions and sacrifices military children make as their parent(s) serve their country in the military. Military children move more frequently than their civilian peers, they experience extended separations when their parents are deployed, and in many respects their lives are often on the verge of upheaval. While all military family members must deal with these circumstances, because they are still developing emotionally and intellectually, children are often less equipped to deal with these challenges. But somehow they do because they must. There really isn't any other alternative. But because of this, military kids are also incredibly resilient and they are more adept at dealing with life changing challenges. I've been hearing the Department of Defense's campaign about this for years and despite our affiliation as an active duty military family, really hadn't given it a whole lot of thought. Until recently.

We are incredibly fortunate to not have experienced a deployment since Sidney was born and given the point we are at in Glenn's career, it is likely that Sidney will never have to live with such an extended separation from his father. For this I am incredibly grateful. However, Sidney has dealt with the long hours, missed dinners and unexpected phone calls that are all a part of Glenn's job. He has alternately responded to them with tears, bursts of anger, and sad resignation (which from my perspective is perhaps the most heartbreaking response of all). And then there are the moves. At the young age of four and half Sidney has lived in four separate houses in three different countries since he was born. Our most recent move was the first one he remembers and it was by all accounts an incredibly upsetting and difficult experience for all of us. Perhaps future moves will get easier but watching my little boy struggle to comprehend that he was leaving the world he knew behind forever was almost too much for this Mamma to watch. The adjustment to his new environment, a new house, a new school and routine, and making new friends has been anything but easy. But as I had been promised by so many other military moms out there, he is adjusting and showing true resilience. I'd like to promise Sidney that he won't have to go through this again but I can't. Actually I can promise him that he will have to do it all over again in just three short years. Maybe that move will be the last one but then again, maybe it won't. This life definitely has its perks but with every benefit there is a cost and constant moves, uncertainty and upheaval are some of those costs.

So during the month of April the Department of Defense is celebrating and recognizing military children. Most military bases and installations are hosting child centered events and activities. They may be big or small but all focus on the kids. I am constantly hearing the message that we need to thank the military and their families for their service and sacrifice and I couldn't agree more. But for this month let us specifically thank a military child for what they have (unknowingly) given in support of their country. After all the military member doesn't do it alone.

So here's to my military child and all of his peers, both American and international. You didn't choose this lifestyle; rather you were born into it. But you all put up with it, adjust and persevere and because of this, you guys are awesome!

A Belgian (Pre-School) Lunch

Typical of most children, my son gives me mono-syllable answers when it comes to what he did at school each day. When I ask specific questions I may or may not get responses and when he does choose to answer, many times I'm not quite sure what he is talking about. And because the school is a French immersion one, where his teacher speaks a limited amount of English, I am left grappling to figure out what actually goes on during the day. Granted, important notices, such as the chicken pox alert that came out on his second day there, are translated into (poor) English but the majority of the information is only in French. I may have taken a few years of French way back when in high school but most of the language has now faded to a distant memory meaning I find myself relying on Google Translate to decipher a lot of what goes on during Sidney's day.

Lunch is a prime example of this. We were presented with a monthly lunch menu on Sidney's first day but much to my chagrin it was written solely in French. At a quick glance I could see that each meal was balanced with fruits, vegetables, starches, and meats but that was about it. Sidney was very little help simply stating, upon persistent inquiry, that he didn't eat because he didn't like what was set before him. When I would ask him what it was, with the exception of pasta, he simply says he doesn't know. I have repeatedly encouraged him to at least try a bite of everything because he might discover something he likes. I didn't think my suggestion sunk in but I hoped it had none the less.

But last Friday, during his daily after school drilling about lunch Sidney had a different response. He said that he had eaten lunch because he liked it. But he couldn't tell me what it was because "it was too difficult to explain". I was intrigued. Intrigued enough to go to the computer and plug his lunch menu into Google Translate. And let me tell you, my son isn't eating the typical cafeteria lunches I had as a child. (Some of the more memorable, and not in a good way, meals included a platter of baked beans served with a petrified cube of yellow cheese and the ubiquitous "tuna-pea-wiggle", essentially a bad tuna casserole served over saltine crackers).

So what did Sidney eat for lunch on Friday? He started off with a watercress soup and continued with a chicken sausage served alongside a dish of zucchini au gratin. These international pre-schoolers are eating well. Out of curiosity I went on to translate the remainder of the lunch calendar and each meal was more impressive than the last. Every lunch started with a soup; cream of carrot, tomato & basil, and celery and watercress seemed to be favorites. Entrees ranged from fish fillets with mustard sauce and lasagna Bolognese to pork fillets with a mushroom sauce and macaroni and Swiss cheese with ham.  No boxed orange stuff served here. A few items didn't translate but the "flight of wild mushrooms" sounded really interesting. And of course no meal would be complete without dessert. Where are the jello cups, canned mixed fruit, and chocolate pudding?  In their place are fresh fruits (kiwis have become Sidney's new favorite) and mocha creme, vanilla and caramel flan, or crepes with sugar. For four year olds? I love it!

Despite my best attempts at broadening Sidney's culinary horizons--I make versions of many of these dishes at home--he steadfastly refuses to try anything that is new, different, or anything that is not plain pasta. I am hopeful that his being repeatedly presented with these meals, combined with mid day hunger pains, will finally induce him to try new dishes. If the school keeps serving these meals the other children must be eating and enjoying the food so maybe my little American-Albanian boy will grow to like them too. Honestly, as a food loving home cook I am in awe at these menus. American schools could take a pointer or two from their European counterparts.

Family Ties

Two weeks ago Sidney and I went to the airport to pick up his Mimi and Grandpa (my parents).  To say he was excited puts it mildly.  As we walked across the parking lot and into the terminal Sidney told me that while talking to them on the computer (via Skype) is nice you can't hug the computer and all he wanted to do was hug Mimi and Grandpa for real.  And that is exactly what he did the moment they appeared through the security door.  After two years my little boy was finally able to hug his grandparents and he was beyond ecstatic.  (And judging by the picture on the left I'd say the feelings were mutual).  As they settled in Sidney quickly began calling them his "friends" and was their constant shadow wanting to show them his toys, books, and everything about his Albanian life. If one of them left the room Sidney sought them out but then again his grandfather did the same thing when Sidney disappeared for even the shortest amount of time.  It was heartwarming and at the same time caused me to question our own lifestyle choices.  Is it fair, that by choosing to live overseas, we're separating Sidney from his blood family and both sets of grandparents from their only grandchild?

 

We've tried hard to create a strong and supportive circle around Sidney.  I do think that it being "just the three of us" (his words) living so far away from family and friends we are a stronger family unit than we would have been if we were living back in the States.  Here in Albania we don't have cousins, aunts, uncles, or grandparents for immediate emotional or physical support so by default, we've cobbled together our own makeshift support network.  (But then again, Glenn and I have such small nuclear families and Sidney doesn't have any first cousins at all so maybe it wouldn't be so different if we were stateside.....).  Sidney's nanny and her husband are his "Albanian grandparents" and we do Skype with both sets of his real grandparents whenever possible.  These conversations are interactive but I know they aren't a substitute for the real thing.  While I know Sidney is having experiences that our living in the U.S. would never allow him to have, I still wonder whether our living overseas is robbing our son of an important part of his developmental process and of his childhood.

 

There is a phrase in the ex-pat community that describes children who are raised outside of their home country.  There is an ever growing body of literature and research that talks about these "third culture kids" or "global nomads".  Studies show that these children, raised in cultures outside of their own, have stronger family relationships, are more resilient, and have a better knack for learning foreign languages than children raised in a single culture.  Using my own little boy as an example, I completely agree with all of these findings.  The child is quick to invite a new child to play on the playground, is fluent in Albanian, and can recite the most minute details of flying internationally as if it is second nature to him.  However, this doesn't mean life is easier for these TCK children.  Constant changes, whether it be new houses, new schools, or new friends, are never easy.  It is never fun being the new kid and being the new kid every few years can take its toll.  Anxiety, a sense of not having roots, or a lack of identity are all traits that can plague a TCK.  Then, as demonstrated by my original concern, there is the lack of connection to one's own extended family.  Is knowing one's grandparents, aunts, and uncles exclusively through Internet communications enough for a growing child?  (I know that technology has made it so much easier to maintain family bonds than it was just a generation ago but there is no substitute for in-person interactions).   And what happens when these third culture kids try to assimilate back into their own communities of origin? 

 

These are all issues I worry about as we prepare to pack up again and move to a new foreign country where we will spend an additional three years.  With much resistance, we've begun the conversation about new houses, schools, and friends with Sidney and yet I know this won't be the last time we discuss this with him during his childhood.  It is a way of life that we have chosen and are now imposing on our son.  When we (finally?) return to the States, Sidney will be over seven years old, having spent all but the first year of his life living overseas, and know nothing of his country of origin.  He'll be an English, Albanian, and French speaking child who has never played on an American playground or run barefoot through a grass covered backyard, never experienced waking up Christmas morning surrounded by his grandparents, and never celebrated a birthday at Chuck-E-Cheese (well, maybe it won't be all bad after all...).  His grandparents will be that much older and will have missed out on experiencing so many of his childhood milestones that they might have been able to witness firsthand had we lived closer.  But Sidney will have travelled throughout most, if not all of the European countries, have international friends, and have made memories that he will be able to carry with him for the rest of his life. But upon returning to the U.S. Sidney will essentially be a foreigner in his own land and I can't decide if this is good, bad, or perhaps a little bit of both. 

 

In the meantime I'm going to cherish the memory of that airport greeting and hope it isn't another two years before we get to experience it again.

Child's Play

As adults leading busy lives it is sometimes all too easy to miss the subtle signs our children give us.   It takes stopping for a moment to realize what we are being told and when we figure it out, it can be heartbreaking.  And this is the message that our wise beyond his years, four year old sent to me this week.

Our schedules have been out of whack recently.  Between visiting family, a busier than normal work week for Glenn, and evening commitments taking both of us out of the house at night, our daily routine has been anything but the usual.  I know Sidney likes his schedule and predictability but I had no idea how much the upheaval was effecting him.  While Sidney seemed to love having his Mimi and Grandpa visiting their presence meant that his beloved nene (nanny) had the week off and with her went Sidney's normal daily schedule.  Sleep, eat, and play schedules were off kilter.  As the week progressed my normally cheerful little guy only grew angrier and sadder.  I thought a new week and a return to our (somewhat) usual schedule would return things to normal but instead they have only been getting worse.

For the past few nights Sidney has been waking and crying out for us.  When we go to him he says that he misses us and wants to make sure we are here but now that he knows we are here, he is OK and will immediately go back to sleep.  The other evening when it was just the two of us at home, he said he wanted to speak Albanian with me. Now this same child normally refuses to speak anything but English in our presence, proudly stating that he only speaks Albanian with his nene since his parents don't understand it.  Usually I do understand enough but after several failed attempts at my understanding him in his second language, he just gave up.  Then he asked me to come into his play room since he wanted to show me something.  And that something just about broke my heart.

Sidney had lined up all of this stuffed animals and proceeded to tell me stories (in English now) about them; those that looked alike were family while others were just friends.  We went through his entire collection identifying the relationships among them.  Then we got to the lone little white lamb.  First Sidney said that we needed to get a big lamb to keep the little one company.  Then he told me that this little lamb was so sad because he didn't know where his family was.  We needed to find his family so he could be happy.  When I suggested that maybe the lamb's family was away but would come home soon, with tears in his eyes Sidney adamantly informed me that this wasn't the case.  He told me that the lamb's mother was at the store buying things but his father got a phone call, left, and wasn't coming back.  My tears immediately matched his and through the lump in my throat I told Sidney that the lamb's father was indeed coming back.  (Actually, I slipped up and said Sidney's father was coming back but I was quickly corrected that it was the lamb who was missing his father not Sidney).  I found myself at a loss for words as I held my sad little boy.  No amount of self-help books and parenting blogs had prepared me for this.  As I struggled to find the right words Sidney continued.  He said the lamb has a father and mother and their family is just the three of them but that the parents are now missing.  He went on to add that when the three of them are together again they will all be happy. He then suggested that we try to find the lamb's mother and father.

And that is what we did.  I immediately ignored the ringing phone and turned off the computer.  Together we made pizza in Sidney's kitchen and cookies in mine.  Over the past couple of days invitations to non-essential activities have been declined and we are spending quality time together with "just the three of us" and this pattern will continue over the weekend.  Because a little lamb needs his family to be happy and it took an almost four year old to remind me of this.

A Child-Free Zone??

We've all heard the debate.  And I'm sure we've all heard the children as well.   Nothing seems to fire people up more than the question of children in public.  One side accuses the other of being "anti-child" while the other lashes back saying that poor parenting creates children who run amok.  Throughout the debate the underlying question remains:  when and where is it appropriate to bring children and will we even be able to all agree?  Where you stand on this issue depends on where you are coming from.  Personally, I know my own position on this question has changed since I became a parent. Prior to entering the parenthood club, it wasn't so much that I didn't think children belonged in certain situations; rather in most cases I just didn't want to have to deal with them.  Now, from the perspective of a parent, my thinking has changed (somewhat).

Restaurants and airplanes are two of the most common hot button locations where the debate is particularly polarized.  (Of course I've witnessed my share of unruly and disruptive adults in both venues but that is a topic for another blog entry).  The restaurant question is regularly posed and discussed with Tom Sietsema, The Washington Post's food critic.  Should children be allowed to eat in nicer restaurants?  Is it acceptable to bring children out to a nice restaurant for lunch but not dinner?  Or should families with children be relegated to fast food and informal dining chains? Airplane travel is another constant debate.  National Geographic's Christopher Elliot moderates these debates in his column where the question of children seems to be the most prominent travel related question.  People argue about whether airplanes should have designated child-free zones, family areas, or should children be banned from certain flights all together.   I've received my own fair share of dirty looks from fellow passengers when they see me boarding an airplane with a small child in tow but I understand where they are coming from.  Who hasn't spent a long fight with little feet kicking the back of their seat with the offender's parents sitting there oblivious to what is happening? We've all heard the screaming child as well.  Most times the crying can't be helped but that doesn't make the situation any more tolerable.  Ironically, now that I am a parent, other people's crying children don't bother me. I can usually tune out the noise and sit there feeling grateful that I am not responsible for the source of the disruption.

The children - no children debate is also deeply cultural.  In the Balkans, children are welcomed at most places and events.  From my western perspective this isn't always appropriate but clearly I am in the minority with that opinion here in Albania.  We've attended formal receptions where children have been running under foot and have spent more than one late night dinner in a restaurant surrounded by baby strollers and unsupervised toddlers.  When we host events in our home some of our guests will ask if it is acceptable to bring their children while others will just arrive on our doorstep with them.  At the same time, we've been accosted by more than one dinner host when we arrive without Sidney in tow.   If you have a crying or fussy baby on a plane full of Albanians, rather than give you dirty looks they will all jump up and offer to help soothe the fussing child.  I do love the fact that many European airlines greet all of their little passengers with entertainment packs and special snacks.  Now that is customer service that we all benefit from.

So how do we deal with the child- no child issue?  Clearly, all children are not created equal with some being better behaved than others.  I would say that sometimes Sidney is very good and other times...... not so much.  I love Sidney and enjoy being with him but recognize that there are some situations where his presence just isn't appropriate.  If the situation is particularly formal or the hour overly late, Sidney stays home.  On the occasions when we do bring Sidney out to eat in nicer restaurants we are careful to make sure his presence doesn't disturb others. We will opt for earlier dining times and if his mood turns sour causing him to become disruptive, we remove him from the situation immediately.  (Having a ready stash of "table toys" and other forms of entertainment always makes things easier as well).  As far as travel goes, we are fortunate that he loves airplanes so has yet to be overly disruptive on one of our many flights.  Of course it helps that his little legs are still too short to kick at seat backs and he is easily amused by his father's explanations, complete with toy airplane demonstrations, of the physics of flying (I kid you not).  Still, I spend most flights on edge worried that he will have a meltdown and given the close confines of a plane, we wouldn't be able to remove him from the situation.  Would I support a family and children zone on an airplane? Absolutely since it would ease my worry about bothering others. Do I still plan on taking Sidney out to dinner?  Yes again, but we will continue to select venues where we will all be comfortable.  In the end, it doesn't matter which side of the debate you are on. Its all about being aware of our surroundings and being respectful of others. If we practice this, we can all be happy.

Hold Our Babies Close

There aren't words that can adequately describe the sorrow, pain, and sadness I feel right now.  As the tragedy unfolds in Newtown, Connecticut, an every-town U.S.A., I am at a loss as to how we as a society can keep our children safe.  As tragedy after unfortunate tragedy plays out in all too rapid succession, it is clear that none of us are exempt or truly safe from the potential for an unthinkable tragedy striking our community.  Contrary to what we want to believe, violence of all kinds is not the exclusive domain of our poor, inner cities.  In fact, whether it be Aurora, Littleton, Blacksburg, or now Newtown, it is almost as if our suburbs are being targeted.  Being well educated, living in solid, middle class communities, being religious, or not--none of this exempts us from the potential for violence.  How is it that those of us with presumably the most resources are the least able to protect ourselves?

All I know is that right now I am scared and sad.  I don't have the words to explain this tragedy to Sidney who is, fortunately too young to be exposed to or understand this senseless violence. He does know that Mamma is sad.  Someday he will understand the reason behind all those extra hugs and "I love yous".  In fact, I'm going to go give him another hug now.  As a parent, that is the only thing I can really control.

                               "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, 

                               my mother would say to me, "Look for helpers.  You will 

                               always find people who are helping." To this day, especially in 

                               times of "disaster", I remember my mother's words and I am 

                               always comforted by realizing that there are so many helpers

                              --so many caring people in the world."

                                                       ~~~Fred Rogers

I Will Never Hit My Child

I grew up in a physically abusive home.  Fueled by alcohol, my father's outbursts could be triggered by a bad day at work, my not picking up my things, my not picking them up properly, or, as was usually the case,  absolutely nothing at all. I'm not sure when the abuse started but my earliest memories include living in fear of him and needing to tip toe around the house when my father was home.  As a child I assumed my mother was oblivious to his actions yet feared telling her what was going on.  It was only as I got older that I understood that she was aware and lived with the same abuse, fear and dread that I had.  In fact, our entire household, from my grandmother (my father's mother) down to my younger brother, with the exception of my infant sister, lived with a black cloud of doom hanging over our heads.  The cloud never lifted until my father's untimely death- ironically unrelated to alcohol- when I was eleven.  It was only after this event that I felt as though I truly started living.  However, try as I might to block them out, those early memories stay me to this day and in  many respects have shaped the person I am today.

As I got older I vacillated between not wanting children because I feared the type of parent I would be and wanting them so I could raise my children in a happy home. While I knew I would never raise a hand in anger at my child, I wondered what type of parent I would actually be given the environment in which I had spent my early years.  Although my fears subsided when I married Glenn, deep down I always worried about this.  Today, with an active three year old who seems to make a hobby out of trying my patience I still worry at times but I am reassured by the fact that Glenn and I essentially feel the same way in terms of raising our son which does include the need for punishment on ocassion.  And in reality, while Sidney may be all mischievous boy, but he is truly a good, caring kid.

On a recent long and rainy weekend with Glenn away and Sidney and I house bound, things were not going well in the house.  As three year olds are apt to be, Sidney was being particularly defiant and I had spent the better part of the morning chasing him around and cleaning up his messes only to have him undertake new, even messier endeavors as the afternoon wore on.  He just would not nap and both of us were growing increasing agitated; Sidney in the hyper, over tired way and me in an exhausted at wit's end way.  As I was cleaning up (yet another) mess of water, red orange juice, and crushed cheerios from the living room carpet and he was refusing to stand in a time out in the corner (our current method of punishment), I snapped.  I raised my voice in anger and yelled at the poor boy telling him that he was driving me crazy and needed to stop right now.  Instead of his usual sly grin, he looked at me with his big blue eyes wide open and started crying.  I have never raised my voice at him in such a manner and it scared him.  And it scared me.  It scared me to my very core.  My anger quickly turned to fear as I curled myself in a fetal position on the cheerio encrusted carpet and sobbed.  I didn't even come close to hitting Sidney but in that moment I felt nauseous and horrified that perhaps I am more like my father than I ever wanted to admit.  My fear turned to guilt as my sensitive little boy wrapped his arms around me and said, "I'm sorry Mamma. I love you."  He then proceeded to get down on his hands and knees and resume the cleaning task I had been doing.

This is perhaps the hardest post I've ever written.  Even days later I find myself crying as I type this. I am horrified by my actions that day but I am even more scared about what could have happened if I didn't harbor such a deep seeded fear of becoming my father.  Try as we might there is a fine line that we walk as parents.  Most people who know me think I am tough and no nonsense and won't put up with any misbehavior.  I know the truth; my fear of being a bad, too tough parent probably drives me in the opposite direction.  I struggle on how to punish Sidney in constructive ways.  As I mentioned earlier, time outs are the current means of punishment in our house but unfortunately they just don't work when I try to implement them.  One word from Glenn, or even the nanny, and Sidney is in the corner. He may not be happy about it but he is there. With me it is a totally different story; he whines, refuses, and flat out defies me order.  More often than not it becomes a battle of the wills that I just can't win and one that I am tired of fighting. 

So where do I go from here?  The one thing I know for sure is that I will never lay a hand on my child.  I will also never allow anyone else to do it either.  In my experience corporal punishment doesn't do any good and only creates lasting scars.  My goal is to raise a caring, respectful and well behaved son.  We are well on our way with achieving the caring part.  For all of his rough and tough little boyness, he is truly a caring and sensitive child.  I also think we have been making good progress on being respectful.  Unprompted, Sidney regularly says "please", "thank you", and "excuse me" in English, Albanian, and ASL.  A lot of work still needs to be doing on being well behaved.  I'm sure this will be a struggle for many years to come; after all Sidney is a mischievous combination of both of his parents.  I know that through hard work and patience we will prevail. It won't be easy, but we will prevail.  Because we must.