parenting philosophy

Just Saying “No!”

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 3 Comments

Sprout is wobbling on the edge of being a toddler. While he isn’t walking yet, he’s cruising from piece to piece of furniture and has more and more non-basic wants. This emotional development is leading to the introduction of the dreaded D word – discipline, along with its cousin, “No.”

For the most part, we try to limit how much we need to say no. Although Sprout is starting to understand what no means, he doesn’t really grasp it yet, so we don’t want to overuse it. It doesn’t mean that Sprout can do whatever he wants. Rather, we try to avoid the negative situation in the first place or change it. Instead of telling him not to put the remote control in his mouth, we just put it out of his reach. Other situations may be annoying, but are tolerable and not worth fighting over. We gave up on putting a bib on him because it became a tug of war where he ended up with more food on his shirt with the bib than without. Sometimes he wants to be picked up when I need to get ready for work, so I at least try to give him a hug even if I can’t carry him around.

On the other hand, there are certain behaviors that are simply intolerable and that Sprout actually can control. When he was first born, he would randomly flail his arms and legs. But now even when he doesn’t have the capacity for self control, but he does have the necessary fine and gross motor skills to avoid hitting me in the face.

Along these lines, most of the intolerable behavior is actions that hurt other people. I’ve been saying, “No biting,” “No hitting,” and “No scratching” a lot. But the most common one is “No pulling!” He loves playing with my hair while nursing, but I can’t tolerate him yanking it.

The other two behaviors are really annoying and gross, albeit not physically harmful. The first one is blowing raspberries while he has a mouth full of food, spraying it all over himself and whomever is feeding him. Similarly frustrating is his insistence on flipping over when we’re trying to change his diaper. While neither are the worse thing in the world, they both interfere with essential activities and we want to discourage them.

With all of these behaviors, I truly believe that Sprout doesn’t have ill intent. He doesn’t understand that other people have thoughts or feelings yet, so the idea that he’s causing someone else pain is pretty incomprehensible. Being gentle or careful requires a lot of focus, so when he doesn’t, he’s just in default mode. This is especially true when he’s really tired and just wants to flail. As he gets older, we need to keep reminding ourselves that he doesn’t always understand how the world works or have the emotional maturity to make certain decisions.

Also, I realize that the things we’re asking him to do are relatively complicated and difficult to understand. He can touch my hair or face – as long as it isn’t too violently. He can blow raspberries – except when he’s eating. He can flip over and crawl – except when we’re changing his diaper. Putting together the “if-then” combination is pretty challenging for him to comprehend, even though adults do it all of the time.

With this in mind, we’re generally taking a “positive parenting” approach, with some tweaks as necessary. While there’s a lot written on positive parenting, the Bible of the movement (as far as I can tell) is How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk. While I adore this book, most of the tools require your kid to speak fluently and as such, are of limited use with a not-quite-yet toddler. Fortunately, Dr. Harvey’s Karp’s The Happiest Toddler on the Block provides some good advice on transferring these skills to parenting toddlers, even if I wish he would acknowledge his sources far more.

A major aspect of positive parenting is setting the stage by encouraging and praising good behavior. When he touches my hair without pulling, I tell him, “Nice, gentle hands!” When he allows us to change his diaper without flipping over, I blow raspberries on his stomach, which makes him laugh.

If he starts up with the frustrating behavior, our first step is to respectfully acknowledge and if needed, voice, his needs and desires. Unfortunately, even Sprout’s non-verbal communication skills are limited, so sometimes we don’t know what he wants. This part is often about us figuring out what he’s trying to tell us through the annoying behavior. While sometimes he’s blowing raspberries to be silly, other times it’s because he’s done eating. Although I thought he was hitting me in the face for no reason, it turned out he wanted me to turn my head to reach my hair. We don’t want to reinforce the behavior, but at the same time we shouldn’t ignore what he’s trying to express, even if it’s not in quite the right form.

Next up, we provide alternatives. When he’s too tired to keep himself from pulling my hair, I offer him my hand to high five or slap. If we make funny sounds while feeding him or let him hold onto a toy bird, he doesn’t spit out his food everywhere as much. And a steady round of funny noises and This Little Piggy keeps him focused enough while changing him that (sometimes) he doesn’t want to turn over.

If he continues with the annoying behavior, we then communicate our feelings to him, saying “No!” and when appropriate, combined with “Ow!” (sometimes involuntarily!). We try to use a stern voice and facial expression to express how serious we’re being; I summon up the voice I used when I was substitute teaching.

If Sprout still continues the behavior after a couple of warnings we then proceed into mild discipline territory. The most common approach is taking away whatever is causing the problem, like tucking my hair behind my ear if he keeps pulling it or putting him down if he’s biting us. If it isn’t an object that’s a problem, but our attention, we remove that for a moment. We just turn away from him briefly to communicate that what he is doing is not acceptable. (This is especially important when what he is doing is genuinely funny but something we don’t want to encourage!) Dr. Karp calls this “gentle ignoring,” and I think it’s a useful tool.

As Sprout gets older, we don’t anticipate integrating punishment into our methods except in the most extreme circumstances. Instead, we hope to work our way towards participating in more joint problem solving and allowing natural consequences to work themselves out. Positive parenting requires a lot of patience and empathy, but I think all of us will be better people in the end.

An Open Letter to Parenting Philosophers

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 6 Comments

I believe in being positive, especially as a parent, but sometimes I do get frustrated. I get angry when people are being oppressed, when someone is reinforcing prejudicial societal patterns, or when people are putting others in unnecessary pain. Rather than making Chris listen to me rant (yet again), I’ll write an Open Letter addressing whatever is making me angry.

I don’t believe in parenting philosophies. That’s not to say that I don’t believe they exist – the reams of parenting books and blogs would immediately disprove me. Rather, I don’t believe in their usefulness as moral and ethical frameworks. Instead, I think they’re useful as broad sets of guidelines from which parents can and should pick and choose based on their own values. Trying to apply something as restrictive as a specific ethical philosophy to something as situational, deeply personal, and chaotic as parenting is bound to end in frustration. Parents feel judged enough – making them feel as if it’s straight up immoral if they don’t follow your philosophy in every situation is just wrong!

Lately, I’ve felt very frustrated when I’m reading a blog post or book where I agree with the broad viewpoint but they take a position that’s so extreme that it doesn’t match anyone’s lived experience that I know. This is a pretty common issue with philosophical frameworks – it’s how you end up with annoying thought experiments like the trolley problem. Normally, this isn’t a huge issue. In “real life,” the only person who will judge you if you don’t follow a single philosophical framework in every area of your life is a freshman philosophy student. However, everything in parenting is about people’s personal, everyday lives. Unfortunately, most parenting philosophies don’t make space for the variability between families.

Often, this narrow viewpoint comes from the author’s unacknowledged privilege. This unexamined privilege shows up in all sorts of issues, from prenatal care to sleeping arrangements.

Broadly, it’s a good idea if pregnant women eat a variety of fruits and vegetables. But using language that’s going to inspire guilt in women who can’t meet those requirements (looking at you, What to Expect When You’re Expecting) is unfair to the many pregnant women who feel hideous nausea all of the time and can only eat very limited diets. And that’s not to mention the women who had food sensitivities before they got pregnant.

In general, breastfeeding is a important behavior to encourage and teach new moms how to do. But for women for whom breastfeeding exasterbates post-partum depression or is so awful that they’re in chronic pain, telling them that using formula denies your child “what is needed for development” is just reinforcing the narrative of failure that’s already running through their heads. Besides physical restrictions, there are many women who have to return to workplaces – especially retail and other service industry positions – that have no space or time accommodations for pumping, making breastfeeding after a few weeks impossible. New laws require employers to provide these resources, but considering how common wage theft is despite the fact that it affects a much larger population, I’m not confident in enforcement. While these articles often blame the larger society for not supporting breastfeeding instead of the individual, the language still feels intensely personal.

I’m all for the general idea of attachment parenting, but saying that co-sleeping and baby-wearing will guarantee that your child will never be a bully minimizes so many other social pressures and makes non-attachment parents feel unnecessarily guilty. Statements like that fail to acknowledge that not everyone is capable of that level of intense exercise after giving birth. A friend of mine was left with severe back pain after a very long, intense delivery and unable to carry her son around. However, that doesn’t mean that she loves him any less or he’ll be irrevocably damaged.

Beyond privilege, some of the philosophies are just absurd when carried to a certain point. I believe that babies shouldn’t be cooped up in seats or forced into positions they aren’t ready for. But claiming that propping your baby to sitting once in a while will doom him or her to a life of klutziness is ridiculous.

Basically, these philosophies and their advocates need to cut parents – especially moms, because they’re usually targeted at moms – some much-needed slack. Moms are expected to get everything just right these days, truly “leaning in” and “having it all” when that’s impossible or much too stressful than is healthy. Adding to that pressure by implying that moms who don’t follow a definitive philosophy are permanently damaging their children is irresponsible and mean. Babies have flexible brains and are remarkably adept at developing well even when we screw up once in a while. Similarly, making hyped up promises that everything will go perfectly – your baby will definitely sleep through the night, be wonderfully calm or naturally graceful – makes the parent who follow those philosophies and don’t get the results feel like there’s something wrong with them rather the idea that maybe the approach doesn’t work for their family. While there are (TW: descriptions of child abuse) some philosophies that no one should ever adopt, no single philosophy is perfect for every situation or every family.

Instead of presenting these philosophies as the end-all and be-all, I wish that the advocates would present their ideas as a toolbox of skills and options that parents can use as needed. I would like them to acknowledge that other philosophies may have some good points that parents may want to draw from. I would like them to even show parents how actions offered by their philosophy can fit with or complement others.

In the meantime, it’s up to us as parents to not allow ourselves to be intimidated by dire warnings and over-promises. By rejecting the formulation of One Right Way to parent, we can embrace the fluidity and chaos of parenting in all of its messy glory. By allowing ourselves the freedom to pick and choose, we can end up with what’s right for our families, no matter what anyone else thinks.

We’re All Stories in the End

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 2 Comments

Today is the 50th anniversary of two of my favorite pop culture icons: Where the Wild Things Are and Doctor Who. What I love about both of these creations is their intense cultivation of wonder without shying away from its dangers. Because of this dualism, they capture the experience both of being a child and being a parent.

I came to the two properties from opposite ends. Where the Wild Things Are has been a favorite of mine since I was a child, which I then rediscovered as an adult. I remembered it fondly, but never really understood how insightful it was until I recently reread it to my newborn son. Like most Americans, I came to Doctor Who as an adult, already in my late 20s. While I didn’t find the first few episodes compelling, I fell in love half-way through watching the first season of the new series. Since then, I’ve been a head-over-heels fan. Between one of my favorite blogs, TARDIS Eruditorum, and other critical analysis, I’ve also found depths that I would have never guessed upon the first viewing of the episodes.

Somehow, both of them communicate eternal truths in a package appropriate for children. They both express a combination of fear and beauty, anger and creativity, hurting and healing. They are both about creating worlds in your imagination and the people who help you save this one. Perhaps most importantly, both are about the radical power of stories, the ones we tell about ourselves and others.

While my five-month-old son (nicknamed Sprout) is too young to understand one and too young to experience the other at all, I know that this book and show both embrace values that I want to pass on to him. That philosophy of awe and love in the context of parenting (and sometimes pop culture) and how that plays out is what this blog is about.

One of these stories is about a time-traveling madman in a box. The other is about a child who creates entire worlds full of magical creatures but returns home to his mother. And they’re both the same – they’re about us.