Normally when I am flipping channels at night while trying to find something to lull me to sleep, I always roll my eyes and bypass any television show having to do with a nanny coming in and somehow righting the parenting sins of a whole household in an hour’s time, including commercial breaks. I’ve even read somewhere online that these episodes are staged in that the children were coached before the nanny got there to act as feral as possible because sadly, crazy equals ratings.
It was almost midnight but I got sucked into this particular episode last night. The children had less then stellar toilet habits, refused to eat what was cooked so that mom had to make a seperate meal for them, and screamed when they weren’t given their way until eventually the parents caved in just to make them stop. They parked in front of the television constantly, even at bedtime. And bedtime? Whenever they darn well pleased.
These children were my own son’s age and their actions resonated with me so much because I had become that mom.
I never intentionally started out to parent my son like this. He most certainly doesn’t rule the roost, but it was getting there. I could offer up a myriad of reasons as to why I let so much slide with him….his diagnosis, the fact that because of my husband’s job I do this parenting gig 85% of the time by myself, that it’s just easier to give in than to listen to the constant stream of whining and demanding. However, excuses are just that…excuses. I had tried half-heartedly in the past to remedy some of these problems, but eventually that little thing called consistancy got in the way. If it got tough or took too long, I gave up. Better to do nothing that try something and do it wrong, right?
Wrong, wrong, wrong. And now that he is 4, it’s not cute anymore. It’s exhausting, sometimes embarassing, and the bottom line is that it’s just not good for him.
I spent the better part of today psyching myself up for the changes that need to be implemented. I knew that the world as he knew it was about to be tipped right off its axis. It was going to be sucktastic, no doubt.
Tonight at dinner he was made to sit at the table until everyone had finished and I did not play short-order cook. He ate what was offered. SCORE! He even took his dish to the sink without prompting. BONUS!
At bathtime, he immediately came into the bathroom as soon as he heard the water running. SCORE! Serenading me with little songs while I bathed him…BONUS!
Bedtime. Honestly? This was the toughest part. He was used to falling asleep with the television on AND a full two hours or more later than this. He demanded…he balked…he threw a FIT. It broke my heart. I stayed with him, offering lullabyes, comfort, and hugs. He refused. He screamed, cried, and flailed about for a full 45 minutes before he finally gave up and fell asleep. All the while I practiced deep breathing and prayed for patience. But he did fall asleep two hours ahead of schedule and I stuck to my guns about the television. SCORE!
It’s going to take a lot more of the same to get to where we need to be. I’m fully prepared to battle discouragement along the way, beause I know it will soon creep in and attempt to un-do everything I’ve started. I know more disciplined parents are reading this and cringing over the fact that it took a television show for me to realize this, but seeing it from a different perspective gave me the reality check I needed and writing this here will hold me accountable. Have mercy and don’t call the Parenting Police yet.
