Just Say NO!

Anyone else out there old enough to remember the old Grange Hill anti-drugs song? It has sprung to my mind recently, but for totally different reasons.

At the risk of sounding like a Grandma way before my time, I have begun to watch a new generation of parents emerge. Parents who do not seem to have the confidence, skills or determination to give their children boundaries and (dare I use the word?) discipline.

I watch toddlers running rings around their mothers, who sit and blandly smile at their precious angels. I hear mothers discussing their babies who apparently don't 'like' bedtimes (and I am not passing judgement on this - I had 3 non-sleepers, but there is a difference...). I see school aged children only eating a limited diet of breadsticks and chocolate ice cream. I hear mothers desparing. I also see laughing mothers watching their children, totally oblivious to the fact that their angel needs some boundaries setting. I hear about fathers who just do the playing and fun stuff with their children, instead of taking the responsibility.

I wonder how this all happened. How did we reach this point where parents are unable to discipline their children? Why is the 'no' word such a bad word these days? I am all for allowing children to explore, experiment and make their own choices but surely a parent's role is to guide and set limits on that exploration. How can children feel safe unless they are given boundaries? How can they really learn about the big, wide world of disappointment and failure if their parents, who love them unconditionally, are not the first people to say 'no' to them?

It is a dangerous place to be. What will happen to the babies and toddlers of this generation's parenting? How will they learn that the world does not revolve around them? How will they learn to share, to show kindness, to be respectful towards others or even to go to sleep on their own if they are not taught? Parents need to be the ones who say 'no'. We need to take the responsibility. We must step up to the challenge - and it will be a challenge - of disciplining our children. It is one of the best ways we can love our children. We must love them by saying 'no'. If we don't, the consequences for the next generation could be disastrous.

The Sweetie Aisle Trauma

What a week this has been! My lovely Max turned 8 and now "feels so much taller". He has loved his birthday - particularly the food element. It is not difficult to work out that Max's love language is good food, and lots of it (even if he can't manage to actually eat it all). Thankfully he is, so far, still hugely appreciative of my cooking and doesn't even mind when my cakes don't rise properly or my lasagne plops onto his plate like a cow pat. He just loves food, and I love loving him with food.

The day before his birthday was a tricky one though. The school tradition is for the birthday child to bring in sweets to share with their class, so without thinking of the disastrous possibilities, I took Jonah to the supermarket to choose some sweets for Max and his class. Why on earth I did not realise how much of a stupid idea this was, I will never know. In naive optimism, I genuinely thought that Jonah would ENJOY buying sweets for Max to take into school. How very, very wrong I was. Standing in the sweetie aisle, Jonah picked up a handful of sweets.

Jonah: "I'll have these ones."
Me (realising my mistake, but still hoping it could be rectified): "Oh no! We're not buying for you today, these are for Max to give to his friends."
Jonah: (mouth wobbling, eyes filling with tears) "But I want these."
Me: (breathing deeply, realising this is not going to be fixed easily): "No. I am not buying for you today. Come with me please."
Jonah (dropping to the floor with a dramatic wail): "BUT I WANT SOME!"
Me: (preparing for battle): "Stand up, take my hand and come with me."
Jonah: "NOOOOOO!"

Much to the horror of the old ladies in the vicinity (I'm sure their children never did that!) I held onto his hand and, with the determination of an athlete in their final sprint, dragged him around the supermarket on his knees while I finished my shopping. I gave him plenty of opportunities to stand and walk. He refused every time. I heard tuts (can't be sure whether they were for me or for him) and Jonah even had a lecture from an old man about Father Christmas not coming if he wasn't a good boy. Nothing worked. I was the mother with the screaming child. Oh how our children humble us.

Max was pleased with the sweets though, so perhaps it was worth it.

New Starts

The holidays are over. We have just experienced the first summer holidays without a toddler or baby in tow and, as much as toddlers and babies are cute and everything, it was fantastic. We actually had lie-ins (until 7:45, but when you have spent years getting up between 5 and 6am, that really is a lie-in) and going out is so much easier without all the (un)necessary paraphernalia. I even managed not to yell at the boys (apart from the "lunch is ready" yelling and the "stop weeing up the garden shed" yelling) until week 6. This is most definitely progress. However, all good things (and tiring things and noisy things) come to an end. Today was my biggest boy's first day at Middle School. He spent his last evening of freedom subjecting us all to nerve-driven verbal diaorrhea and shed quite a few tears at bedtime when his mind was plagued with worries (although this is not to be admitted to now he is at Middle School). He was up and dressed at 6:30am, all ready for his new start! I waved him off this morning with a reassuring smile on my face and threatening tears brimming in my eyes. As I closed the door on him and let the tears fall, I felt again another painful snip of that umbilical chord and took a deep breath, knowing we are about to enter a whole new world with him. My littlest also begins his school journey this week as he joins the nursery class at our school. What they will make of him, I do not know. I heard a most excellent description of a deadly ant (on Deadly 60 for all those who also watch it!) which summed up my 4 year old perfectly. "He is fearless and has an attitude that is far too big for his size." Nursery staff, you have been warned! Will I feel tearful leaving him at nursery on Thursday? Not in the slightest. In fact, I may even be seen skipping home. What is my reaction as a mum to all these new beginnings? My reaction is to grieve what has passed, but also to celebrate what is to come. My boys are growing up and taking brave steps towards independence. I am right behind them, watching them totter, and will be there when they fall (which they will - but don't boys love a good injury to show off to their mates?) but I have to let them take these steps themselves. Next in the plan for independence is to teach my lovely, but eccentric, Max to be more organised ....... This may take some time ......