27 April 2006
cabinet dancing
Here's why I was late to work today.
Twenty minutes after I should have been doing my bit to help pollute the planet with whatever gasoline pollutes it with, I was wiping a kid's armpit clean of peanut butter. The peanut butter was there to remove the gum, which was bonded like super glue to Five's skin--including but not limited to the armpit skin. The gum was there because it knew I had stuff to get done first thing this morning.
From his position as "not the one in trouble" and thus also as vocal and slightly self-righteous spectator, Four asked how I knew peanut butter would do the trick (several other search and destroy techniques had miserably failed).
I replied, "Moms know stuff."
And we do. You could put a gun to my head, and I still couldn't tell you exactly where I first heard or read about the peanut butter trick (by the way, I don't think it'll work on the sheets, will it?). Maybe it's like iTunes--some of this stuff just gets automatically downloaded as soon as you add kids to your disk drive, uh, life.
There's a rule against chewing gum without permission. That was a piece of dumb luck--usually they come up with stuff I haven't anticipated. Without the gum rule, I would have had to make up a rule like "don't put gum in your armpit," and then I would have spent much of the rest of my life having arguments about whether or not gum can put ITSELF into armpits.
There's also a rule against food in the bedrooms. So that covers the candy and gum that was stashed under Six's pillow, for, near as I've been able to calculate, several weeks now (yes, we change the sheets, but he's in charge of removing them from the top bunk--we are messy, but not that dirty).
But the rules are not necessarily closely bonded to "logical consequenes." This is one of the many child-rearing pieties that I find less than helpful. Adopted kids are the same, but they are also different. Breaking a rule is not always just breaking a rule, and a rule doesn't always fully address the behavior in question, even if it looks pretty straightforward. How many ways, after all, can you equivocate about whether or not there's gum in the bedroom?
But. The candy and gum could (also) be "hoarding" behavior, even though Six has been home for a year and a half now. It could just be food rule breaking too. The trick is that appropriate consequences are different for these behavior categories. "Hoarding" calls for reassurance and strategies underscoring the reliability and adequacy of the food supply. "Candy and gum without permission and in the bedroom--and the bed--to boot" calls for no electronics, extra jobs, and you'll be very sorry young man if you ever even think about doing that again and that better not be a smile on your face, boy howdy.
I went with the latter this morning. But not without second (third, fourth, fifth) thoughts.
This is a dilemma that pretty much goes with the territory; children who have spent their formative early months and years in institutions, however caring, come home with "issues." And not only are they are not clearly labeled for your parenting convenience, they frequently call for counter-intuitive responses. I mean, how many people want to hug up the kid who's just plastered unlaunderable gum and candy goo all over the last set of clean sheets?
I've done the "Look honey, there's always food, don't worry" dance around the kitchen plenty of times, opening all the cabinets, hauling out the bread, canned beans, peanut butter jars, cracker boxes, gummy worms, peanuts, breakfast cereal, packages of spaghetti, tuna cans, bags of potatoes, energy bars, and anything else in there that would look like food-reassurance to a kid who doesn't even know that that is what she or he is worried about/acting out over. Because not only is that what you are "supposed" to do, but I knew it was what I needed to do for the kid whose hoard I'd just discovered in some unspeakably abject state of decay and deterioration (do you have any idea what happens to food squished into dark humid spaces for, say, 2 months?).
I didn't do that dance this morning. The whole thing was making me late, I hate hate hate gum (ick, ew, blech), the laundry pile was making me crazy, and I was just plain pissed off--it was candy and gum for crying out loud, not a stash of protein stored against the coming deluge.
So now I'm at work and getting behinder. Second guessing my second guessing. Motherhood--the only job you can mess up by doing "right."
I guess, when I get home, I'll be doing the "Look honey, there's always food, don't worry" dance.
Shoot, maybe I'll put on some Aretha, and we'll all dance it.
And then, they can change the dang sheets.
Twenty minutes after I should have been doing my bit to help pollute the planet with whatever gasoline pollutes it with, I was wiping a kid's armpit clean of peanut butter. The peanut butter was there to remove the gum, which was bonded like super glue to Five's skin--including but not limited to the armpit skin. The gum was there because it knew I had stuff to get done first thing this morning.
From his position as "not the one in trouble" and thus also as vocal and slightly self-righteous spectator, Four asked how I knew peanut butter would do the trick (several other search and destroy techniques had miserably failed).
I replied, "Moms know stuff."
And we do. You could put a gun to my head, and I still couldn't tell you exactly where I first heard or read about the peanut butter trick (by the way, I don't think it'll work on the sheets, will it?). Maybe it's like iTunes--some of this stuff just gets automatically downloaded as soon as you add kids to your disk drive, uh, life.
There's a rule against chewing gum without permission. That was a piece of dumb luck--usually they come up with stuff I haven't anticipated. Without the gum rule, I would have had to make up a rule like "don't put gum in your armpit," and then I would have spent much of the rest of my life having arguments about whether or not gum can put ITSELF into armpits.
There's also a rule against food in the bedrooms. So that covers the candy and gum that was stashed under Six's pillow, for, near as I've been able to calculate, several weeks now (yes, we change the sheets, but he's in charge of removing them from the top bunk--we are messy, but not that dirty).
But the rules are not necessarily closely bonded to "logical consequenes." This is one of the many child-rearing pieties that I find less than helpful. Adopted kids are the same, but they are also different. Breaking a rule is not always just breaking a rule, and a rule doesn't always fully address the behavior in question, even if it looks pretty straightforward. How many ways, after all, can you equivocate about whether or not there's gum in the bedroom?
But. The candy and gum could (also) be "hoarding" behavior, even though Six has been home for a year and a half now. It could just be food rule breaking too. The trick is that appropriate consequences are different for these behavior categories. "Hoarding" calls for reassurance and strategies underscoring the reliability and adequacy of the food supply. "Candy and gum without permission and in the bedroom--and the bed--to boot" calls for no electronics, extra jobs, and you'll be very sorry young man if you ever even think about doing that again and that better not be a smile on your face, boy howdy.
I went with the latter this morning. But not without second (third, fourth, fifth) thoughts.
This is a dilemma that pretty much goes with the territory; children who have spent their formative early months and years in institutions, however caring, come home with "issues." And not only are they are not clearly labeled for your parenting convenience, they frequently call for counter-intuitive responses. I mean, how many people want to hug up the kid who's just plastered unlaunderable gum and candy goo all over the last set of clean sheets?
I've done the "Look honey, there's always food, don't worry" dance around the kitchen plenty of times, opening all the cabinets, hauling out the bread, canned beans, peanut butter jars, cracker boxes, gummy worms, peanuts, breakfast cereal, packages of spaghetti, tuna cans, bags of potatoes, energy bars, and anything else in there that would look like food-reassurance to a kid who doesn't even know that that is what she or he is worried about/acting out over. Because not only is that what you are "supposed" to do, but I knew it was what I needed to do for the kid whose hoard I'd just discovered in some unspeakably abject state of decay and deterioration (do you have any idea what happens to food squished into dark humid spaces for, say, 2 months?).
I didn't do that dance this morning. The whole thing was making me late, I hate hate hate gum (ick, ew, blech), the laundry pile was making me crazy, and I was just plain pissed off--it was candy and gum for crying out loud, not a stash of protein stored against the coming deluge.
So now I'm at work and getting behinder. Second guessing my second guessing. Motherhood--the only job you can mess up by doing "right."
I guess, when I get home, I'll be doing the "Look honey, there's always food, don't worry" dance.
Shoot, maybe I'll put on some Aretha, and we'll all dance it.
And then, they can change the dang sheets.
