And right after my time-out post...
Today Isaac and I had a huge row. All this morning he would do things just to set me off. I would tell him not to throw his raisins on the floor, and then he would, or worse, he would get a mouthful and then spit them out all over the hardwood floor. I would tell him not to play with the blinds (which he could easily damage this way) for the millionth time, and then he would continue to bang on them, turning towards me and laughing. I would forbid him from getting on the back of the couch (from which he could fall and/or break the front window if he got rowdy enough), but he would hoist his little leg up there again and again and again and just laugh at me and my "stop or I shall be forced to say stop again" line of discipline.
After endless pleading, redirecting, and finally screaming (on my end), I took him into U.B.'s room to the time-out chair. I listed off his various offenses and told him he was in a time-out for a full minute. During this minute he found Dada's telescope within his reach and proceeded to giggle and entertain himself with it and the bubble wrap around it. As this does not meet my definition of punishment, I got a little angrier and grabbed both his arms and pinned him to the chair to try to finish the time-out. He clearly thought this tactic was my best idea for a game yet and adroitly giggled and squirmed his way out of my grip.
I just lost it and started crying. Seeing that he was completely safe where he was, I stormed out of the room and marched into my bedroom to do a little mommy-fussing on my own and calm down. And then, from U.B.'s room, I finally hear Isaac getting upset over his predicament. Because I left the room? Possibly. Because he was "stuck" in the chair? Oh, absolutely.
You see, because Isaac has been feeling bad, which I totally understand, he's been asking me to pick him up more than normal, especially to mount and dismount things that we both know he could conquer on his own. He insists I pick him up to get out of our bed, when he knows that he can turn around and drop feet first if he slides on his belly over the side. He will rarely get down off the couch by himself if I am around, for which there is no excuse whatsoever because this is something he has been doing by himself for a long time. Yesterday Dada was gone from before Isaac woke up until after Isaac went to bed, so I had a whole day of picking up a 27-lb toddler. Given also the fact that I am carrying ~33 lbs of extra weight with U.B., this equates to lugging around 60 extra pounds for a goodly portion of the day. I literally could not walk to bed last night until I lay on the couch with a hot pad on my back for an hour and a half. There was to be no more of this business today.
And so back to today. In the end, though my time-out was clearly ineffective, I found a more appropriate and more useful "punishment" for Isaac. I didn't stay gone from U.B.'s room for more than a few minutes, and Isaac cried the whole time. As soon as I got back, he lifted his arms up towards me, begging me to help him down off of his time-out chair, which is quite low-to-the-ground and from which I have seen him ascend and descend at will again and again in the past. I gently told him that, if he really wanted down, all he needed to do was turn around on his belly and slide off feet-first. More horrible wailing ensued. Unscathed, I sat down on the spare bed in that room, not four feet from him, and busied myself removing the price tags from U.B.'s new wardrobe. He didn't stop crying the whole time. Every two minutes or so I asked him if he'd like to get down; he would say yes, and I would gently suggest he do it himself and tell him how. Repeat horrible wailing. When I finished with U.B.'s tags, I went over to him and helped him get on his belly, wherein he then slid off the chair with ease, still sobbing. I gave him a big hug and told him he needs to do those things himself because my back hurts and I can't pick him up all the time. Then we held hands leaving the room and played with his sticker books together for a half-hour.
It's these kinds of things, really, that make me think having a younger brother will be excellent for him. He is such a capable little guy, but relies on me to do many things for him that I know he can do. When U.B. comes, he will be forced to do more for himself, simply because I won't be able to continue my enabling behavior. When he gets big, I hope he appreciates that his mom forced a little independence on him.
After endless pleading, redirecting, and finally screaming (on my end), I took him into U.B.'s room to the time-out chair. I listed off his various offenses and told him he was in a time-out for a full minute. During this minute he found Dada's telescope within his reach and proceeded to giggle and entertain himself with it and the bubble wrap around it. As this does not meet my definition of punishment, I got a little angrier and grabbed both his arms and pinned him to the chair to try to finish the time-out. He clearly thought this tactic was my best idea for a game yet and adroitly giggled and squirmed his way out of my grip.
I just lost it and started crying. Seeing that he was completely safe where he was, I stormed out of the room and marched into my bedroom to do a little mommy-fussing on my own and calm down. And then, from U.B.'s room, I finally hear Isaac getting upset over his predicament. Because I left the room? Possibly. Because he was "stuck" in the chair? Oh, absolutely.
You see, because Isaac has been feeling bad, which I totally understand, he's been asking me to pick him up more than normal, especially to mount and dismount things that we both know he could conquer on his own. He insists I pick him up to get out of our bed, when he knows that he can turn around and drop feet first if he slides on his belly over the side. He will rarely get down off the couch by himself if I am around, for which there is no excuse whatsoever because this is something he has been doing by himself for a long time. Yesterday Dada was gone from before Isaac woke up until after Isaac went to bed, so I had a whole day of picking up a 27-lb toddler. Given also the fact that I am carrying ~33 lbs of extra weight with U.B., this equates to lugging around 60 extra pounds for a goodly portion of the day. I literally could not walk to bed last night until I lay on the couch with a hot pad on my back for an hour and a half. There was to be no more of this business today.
And so back to today. In the end, though my time-out was clearly ineffective, I found a more appropriate and more useful "punishment" for Isaac. I didn't stay gone from U.B.'s room for more than a few minutes, and Isaac cried the whole time. As soon as I got back, he lifted his arms up towards me, begging me to help him down off of his time-out chair, which is quite low-to-the-ground and from which I have seen him ascend and descend at will again and again in the past. I gently told him that, if he really wanted down, all he needed to do was turn around on his belly and slide off feet-first. More horrible wailing ensued. Unscathed, I sat down on the spare bed in that room, not four feet from him, and busied myself removing the price tags from U.B.'s new wardrobe. He didn't stop crying the whole time. Every two minutes or so I asked him if he'd like to get down; he would say yes, and I would gently suggest he do it himself and tell him how. Repeat horrible wailing. When I finished with U.B.'s tags, I went over to him and helped him get on his belly, wherein he then slid off the chair with ease, still sobbing. I gave him a big hug and told him he needs to do those things himself because my back hurts and I can't pick him up all the time. Then we held hands leaving the room and played with his sticker books together for a half-hour.
It's these kinds of things, really, that make me think having a younger brother will be excellent for him. He is such a capable little guy, but relies on me to do many things for him that I know he can do. When U.B. comes, he will be forced to do more for himself, simply because I won't be able to continue my enabling behavior. When he gets big, I hope he appreciates that his mom forced a little independence on him.
posted by Claire at 8:06 PM
3 Comments:
Hmmm maybe the walking out of the room thing is something! He seemed remorseful afterwards. I may have to try that also.
discipline is so exhuasting. . .you did awesome though. . .not caving to stop the crying. . .and he survived getting off the chair himself. . .and YES SIBLINGS are absolutley WONDERFUL. . .i feel like my 4 children have such a special gift, siblings. . .i don't know what i'd do without my 4 siblings. . .there is just something about that BOND. . .
Thanks, Alaine. It's hard for me to know whether or not I did the right thing (especially while it was going on). I'm still not sure, but I guess this whole discipline business is a constant work in progress anyway.
Post a Comment
<< Home