This judgmental attitude among parents is the main reason I decided to start my blog. There is no one right way to raise kids. Period. Each child is different and has individual needs that his or her parents usually know best. There are, of course, some clearly wrong ways to raise a child, i.e., hurting, mistreating or abusing kids in any way, but in general, I think we need to learn to be a lot more tolerant of each other’s parenting styles.

I am certainly not immune to thinking my methods are the gold standard, much as I hate to admit it. It’s not hard to settle into the comfortable feeling of wisdom that naturally comes with raising a larger-than-average family. It’s not that I think I know it all, by any means, but the fact is that I have had many parenting experiences, thanks to the size of my brood. These said experiences can sometimes lull me into complacency, and even a misguided feeling of superiority.

Here’s my challenge to you, as well as to myself: The next time you feel tempted to deride another parent’s way of dealing with her child, bite your tongue and think about how you would feel if someone criticized your inability to get your baby to sleep through the night, your toddler’s tendency to get into everything in sight or your teen’s insistence on wearing all black. And if you’ve raised your kids already, before you dole out any criticism and scorn, don’t forget that you were not perfect either. Most of us are simply doing our best, and really, isn’t that all our kids can ask for?

Which parenting areas inspire judgment and criticism in you?

I started out with the same method, but then quickly realized that I was only making life harder for both myself and my poor twin daughters. They were curious and wanted to touch everything. When they first started walking, they understood the meaning of “no,” but they didn’t understand why. A one-year-old just doesn’t get why her playing with a “pretty” may result in breakage and upset feelings. With two of them, I was outnumbered anyway and before long, I felt like all I was saying to them was “no.”

That was when I decided that I would put anything I didn’t want broken up and out of reach of tiny little hands, until such time as they understood what “fragile” and “break” meant. This worked out well for us and I’m glad I did it that way because, frankly, I didn’t want my nice possessions broken in an effort to teach my toddlers not to touch them, nor did I want to be constantly hovering over them, waiting to correct a misguided touch. At other people’s houses, I watched them carefully to make sure that they didn’t handle anything they shouldn’t.

When they got older, they understood quite well what they could and couldn’t touch, and why. It was much easier to teach them later when they understood the logistics, i.e., breaking something caused an upset mother. I, in turn, didn’t lose anything I valued and was able to do other tasks without worrying that my toddlers were damaging anything. My motto — “If you don’t want it broken or damaged, put it away.”

This method might not be a desirable one for some parents and I’m certainly not saying it’s the only right one; it’s just what worked best for us. Part of this whole parenting journey is figuring out what suits our personalities and those of our children’s the best. Sometimes that might not be what others label as the “right” way, but in the end, we have to do what we feel is good for our kids and forget about what other people think.

How did you handle your toddlers and breakables? If you haven’t reached that stage yet, how do you plan to approach it?

It’s one of the best lessons I ever learned from my kids’ paternal grandmother.

Toddlers have notoriously short attention spans. They also have very few resources from which to draw to know how to effectively and calmly express their emotions. The result? A little person with unpredictable moods and unstable actions.

Distraction is simple, really. So obvious, it’s easy to overlook. I mean, who wants to be constantly saying “no” and engaging in a battle of wills with a person who still wets his pants? Especially when the solution is so much more pleasant, gets parents a lot further and almost always works?

Let’s say, for example, your 2-year-old decides that she doesn’t want to take a nap. (That never happens, right?) Instead of engaging her in a power struggle, you tell her she can play for 2 more minutes (they have no concept of time, after all) and then show her how to march to her bed. This takes the focus off of bed and puts it on how we’re getting to bed. Marching worked wonders with my kids. I felt like an idiot sometimes, chanting, “March, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, hup, two, three, four,” and marching somewhere, but they thought it was a hoot. It always, without fail, distracted them from my goal.

Singing is another amazing tool that most parents don’t use enough. When a child is upset or pouting, often singing some silly songs will put him right back into his previously cheerful mood.

I’m not advocating avoiding discipline. We all know kids have to be disciplined at times. For a child who is too young to understand the reasons behind her parents’ instructions though, distraction is almost always the only thing that’s needed once you’ve said, “I don’t want you to do that.” There will be plenty of time for explaining the whys of your rules later.

After all, you want to enjoy his toddler years, right? Explore the wonder, the magic, the joy toddlers find in everything. Be goofy, be ridiculous, embarrass yourself. Pick her up and move her to another area. Surprise her with a short tickle session. Make up a story. Be spontaneous. Tell him what you need him to know, i.e., he shouldn’t be pulling the baby’s hair, and move him along to a new activity.

Some distracting activities:

♥ coloring, with washable crayons, of course

♥ singing

♥ having her copy your actions, i.e., clap your hands, stomp your feet, twirl, etc.

♥ going for a walk

♥ marching to your destination

♥ getting a snack and/or drink

The possibilities are endless.

Try it. And come back to let me know how it works for you.

Do you already or have you used distraction with your toddler? Have you found it to be effective?

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Unfortunately, nasty parents are lurking all over the place. The really upsetting part about overhearing this sort of treatment in public is that you can pretty much guess if parents are fine with yelling at and humiliating their children in the presence of others, there are a lot worse things going on in private.

I’m not stupid enough to think that this applies to every crabby parent I’ve ever seen, by any means. Heaven knows there have undoubtedly been people who have overheard a snippet of my impatient conversation with my children as we were all on our last nerve in the checkout lane and could have easily jumped to some hasty conclusions. I think overall, though, if you hear much of the conversation, you can get a good idea if the parent is just at his/her wits’ end or if he or she is being habitually disrespectful and nasty.

People who treat their children like annoying little vermin just boggle me, especially when the kids are really little. Here are these innocent, trusting children, looking to their parents to give them guidance, unconditional love and acceptance, and instead they get the kind of treatment I overhear in the store and worse. The injustice and selfishness on the part of these parents just breaks my heart. I mean, we all snap once in awhile, but is it really necessary to scream at your whiny 2-year-old to “shut the hell up” in the middle of Target?

It’s hard being a parent. I get that. Sometimes it’s so hard, I want to run away into the nearest corn field screaming and never, ever come back.  (Yes, every once in awhile life in a corn field looks much preferable to life with my kids.) But there is no excuse for treating your kids as if they’re insignificant or, worse, burdensome. They didn’t ask to be brought into the world and they certainly don’t deserve to be treated with anything less than love, care and respect.

When it comes to parenting, as with any relationship, the very simple, but very true, Golden Rule applies: “Treat others the way you would like to be treated.”

Somehow I don’t think being publicly humiliated and disrespected is something any of us would like from anyone, let alone our loved ones.

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Earning Respect

It’s only natural that as individuals spend more time together, they will find things that irritate, annoy, or otherwise rub them the wrong way. That’s when the desire to act respectfully gets put to the test. Take this case as an example. One woman I see in my office had only recently recovered from a nearly deadly bout of pneumonia, so she promised her husband that she’d never smoke again. About a month after leaving the hospital, however, she began to go out during work breaks to sneak a puff or two on a cigarette with her friends. When her husband found out, he went ballistic! Did she still deserve respect after putting her life and the welfare of the family at risk again? It’s easy to see how he felt betrayed and how she probably felt belittled by his angry reaction.

Children, likewise, should be granted respect, but when a seventeen-year-old forgets to put gas in the family car, leaves the car stranded on the roadside when it inevitably runs dry and then takes off in a friend’s car to enjoy the rest of the night out, how are we able to demonstrate respect to this teen? When these conflicts arise, they threaten the foundation of a family — unless the underlying layer of respect can withstand the hit. And respect does not mean blanket acceptance of intolerable behavior. Respect doesn’t mean you have to like all aspects of any family member’s behavior. But respect does mean that you always treat all family members with dignity and seek a way to understand the world through their eyes.

So how should the husband of the woman who continued to smoke after he pneumonia express his anger and disappointment while still respecting his wife? How can parents let their teen know that irresponsible use of the family car is unacceptable, without showing disrespect for him as a human being? It’s not easy when the first thought that comes to mind sounds something like How can you be so stupid! But if the members of these families want to survive the argument and keep the core of the family strong, they’ll take a deep breath and remember to avoid the hostile responses found in the next Fair Fight Fact.

Want your very own copy of Secrets of Happy Families? Here’s how to enter for a chance to win one of these easy-to-read, engaging books:

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Funny enough, I was thinking the exact same thing a couple days before I read Ron Doyle’s description of my blog, which happens to be one of the winners of his Ripe Tomato Award for Blogging Excellence. (Have I mentioned that before? I have? Sorry, I’m just so excited about it…) I’ve noticed that my posts have been all sunshine, flowers and unicorns lately, which is most definitely not how life is all the time.

I happen to be going through a really good period in my parenting life right now, which is refreshing and nice and, frankly, makes me happy. Like everything though, parenting has its ups and downs and there have been some pretty crappy, sea-scum-low periods in my slightly-over-11-years-long career.

We’ve most likely all been there; the kids finally get on our last nerve and before we’ve thought about it, a loud roar/yell comes out of our mouths that actually causes our own hearts to pound, it’s so startling. Times like these can cause us to seriously question our parenting capabilities.

Then there are the days when we may even question the wisdom of having had kids in the first place. My at-times envious thoughts: Was this kid thing really a good plan? Michelle and Ken don’t have any kids and they have so much more time, freedom and money than I do. I’d love to not have to worry about what I’m going to try to get my kids to eat tonight or how I’m going to deal with shots at next week’s well-child-check. Wouldn’t it be amazing to be able to go somewhere at a moment’s notice or buy more of the things I want?

My guess is that I’m not alone in this way of thinking. Being a parent is not an easy job. If you think it is, then I assure you, you are not doing it properly. It’s easy to just let your kids eat/watch/do whatever they want. It’s a continuous battle to monitor those things, teach them, love them and discipline them.

My mother-in-law told me something while I was still pregnant with my daughters that has always stuck with me. “Being a mother is a real sacrifice,” she said. “It’s a constant sacrificing of yourself, your wants, your desires, your needs. But there’s nothing better.” She was, of course, absolutely right.

So lest you think that I’m of the “this-parenting-thing-is-so-amazingly-wonderfully-spectacularly-mind-blowingly-perfect” mindset, let me set you straight: I’m not. It’s not. It never has been and never will be. For anyone. No matter what they tell you.

What do you see as your biggest obstacle as a parent?

…a quiet reappraisal of helicopter parents is underway. Some researchers have begun to argue that late adolescence and young adulthood are such minefields today – emotional, social, sexual, logistical, psychological – that there are valid reasons for parents to remain deeply involved in their children’s lives even after the kids are, technically speaking, adults.

Further along in the article, a social historian argues that helicopter parenting is not the same as over-parenting, though people use the two terms interchangeably. She feels helicoptering is actually a positive method of raising kids.

So far, I’m not buying it. Being that involved in a child’s life cannot possibly be good for either party.

Until I read the next part, detailing the activities of a self-professed helicopter mom of twin daughters who are attending college.

She goes shopping with them. She gives them advice about their relationships. She weighs in when they are worried about an upcoming test or wondering which class to take. She helps decorate their dorm rooms. One night a week, when (her daughter) gets off work from her part-time job, (she) drives from her Newton home to downtown Boston, picks her up, and transports her back to Pine Manor College.

That doesn’t sound so extreme to me. In fact, that sounds like the kind of relationship I hope to have with my daughters someday. I would go so far as to say that this mom doesn’t really fit the definition of a helicopter mom. These girls are adults, they’re in college, and their mom is their buddy. She sounds very involved with her daughters’ lives, but not interfering.

If I stick to the Wikipedia definition mentioned in my last post, I have a big problem with helicopter parenting. Not allowing kids to fail and deal with it, or make their own choices and become independent-thinking adults, is not raising very healthy and responsible members of society. Life is tough and often unfair. Part of our job as parents is to teach our kids cause and effect, choices and consequences of those choices, so they will be prepared for reality, rather than stunned into immobility by how different the outside world is, where Mommy and Daddy aren’t there to rescue them.

Next time: How much is too much involvement?

What did you think of the Boston Globe article? Share your thoughts on its argument that helicopter parenting is beneficial for some families. Do you feel that “helicopter parenting” and “over-parenting” are synonymous?

This afternoon, the girls were on the computer, I was working on fixing my website and the boys were playing behind me. I turned around just in time to witness Cody lying back in my big round chair, his knees up to his chest, and Logan descending on him, Nerf gun in hand. Cody’s legs shot out straight into Logan’s chest, Logan fell with a giant thud and I jumped out of my chair all in the same second.

I took the two steps necessary to get to where Cody was sitting, grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the chair and said, “You don’t treat people like that! You know better. Now go to your room until I tell you to come out.” Cody went sobbing loudly to his room.

I turned to scoop up the increasingly-distraught pile on the floor that was Logan and dropped in the round chair with him, crooning over his injuries, both physical and emotional. After a bit, he caught his breath. “Why did you treat my brother like that???” he demanded between sobs.

Have you ever been turned into “the bad guy” by the kids when you were simply trying to dole out justice?

We stood in the doorway looking for the kids’ grandma. She found us before we even saw her.

“I was looking for you in the bleachers,” she told me.

I gave her a quizzical look. “Seriously? Why were you looking for us already?” I said, showing her my watch, which clearly said we were 6 minutes early.

She laughed, realizing that it was actually pretty ridiculous to be looking for me before the concert had started.

Soon after we sat down in the first row of bleachers, Logan began to rummage through Grandma’s purse and scored a little bag of Tootsie Rolls, which he immediately began to plow through. Between snacking on “Tertsie” Rolls, reclining into various positions with Grandma and me as pillows and marching back and forth in time to one of the songs, he stayed entertained for quite awhile.

By the time it was Rachel and Andie’s class’s turn to sing though, roughly an hour had gone by and Logan had had enough. “I want the concert to be over!” he wailed as the 4th and 5th grade classes silently exchanged places up front. Several people snickered and nearby parents who were trying to keep their little ones corralled looked quite sympathetic to Logan’s plight.

Grandma got him distracted by fishing out some fruit snacks from the depths of her purse as I watched the 5th grade assemble. Our school is small and the girls’ class is by far the biggest one. Due to its large size, the 5th grade was able to sing in three-part harmony.

I was enjoying listening to the girls, trying to block out the tone-deaf boys, and noticed that one girl’s voice in particular was quite loud and clear with a beautiful tone. With a shock, I realized that there was a mike pointed straight at Andie and it was her voice I was hearing. I looked at Grandma and said, “That’s Andie?” She nodded, all smiles.

I couldn’t believe it. I hear Andie sing all the time around the house and in church, but it was something entirely different to hear it this way. If my pride had been visible, it would have filled that entire gym. I listened in awe as she belted out song after song, her voice distinct above the others.

In the meantime, Logan, on a sugar high from the Tootsie Rolls and fruit snacks, was just about climbing the walls. He stood in front of us and jumped up and down like a crazy man, looking for all the world like Mike Myers in that SNL sketch where he plays a hyperactive kid harnessed to the swing set and he keeps trying to run away, limbs and head all over the place, but bounces back every time. If you’ve ever seen it, you know exactly what I mean.

Finally the concert ended with an announcement that they would be selling ice cream sundaes in the lobby. Logan tried to make a quick dash for the door before anyone else had even thought about getting up.

And then Grandma offered the last, and best, treat of all:

“Logan, would you like some ice cream?” she asked.

“Yeah!!” he beamed, jumping up and down some more like a marionette on speed.

It was then that I knew bedtime was a long, long way away.

* No more tattling.

* Eat your food.

* Don’t hit your brother/sister.

* Pick up your socks/shoes/backpack/coat/toys.

* Wash your hands.

* Stop tattling. You know I hate tattling.

* Get back in bed.

* Just try one bite.

* No, you can’t have candy for breakfast.

* Be sure you flush the toilet.

* Do I need to explain to you again what tattling is?

* Leave your brother/sister alone.

* Chew with your mouth closed.

* And don’t talk with your mouth full.

* If you tattle again, you’re going to your room.

* Seriously? Does that shirt really match those pants?

* Use your quiet voice.

* Did you use soap?

* So, should I smell your hands?

* OK, that’s it. I’ve had it with the tattling. Go to your room.

Have any more to add to the list?