NO is Good

Contrary to popular belief, saying no is a good thing in parenting.  Hearing NO teaches kids boundaries, helps manage expectations, and promotes creative thinking.  While it’s easy to use common sense to make parenting decisions for infants, babies, and toddlers, as they grow into more rational and verbal creatures, it becomes more difficult to say no to their specific requests.  But unless you subscribe to a 24/7 kid-based free-for-all, it’s a necessary step.

In life, it’s usually easier to say yes to a question or request asked of you, than to say no, as we don’t want to ruffle feathers or come across as naysayers.  This is especially true of parenting, as often the response from a child to a “we’ll see,” or an outright “no” is raw disappointment, crying, fit-throwing, anger, or back-talking.  No parent openly invites that behavior.  It’s easy to see how the path of least resistance can win out from ease alone.  However, saying no to an appeal from your child is often required to keep him safe, healthy, or in check with his values. Sometimes a NO is needed simply because the request doesn’t fit into the family’s schedule, budget, or priorities, which might pull an ever stronger response from a kid, especially an older child with the ability to reason and the want to debate the issue.  But saying NO is good.

Your kid, whether 2, 10, 12, or 20, is not going to suffer any great consequence over a few appropriately denied requests.  In fact, it’s a character builder for them to hear no.  What our kids learn today they take with them into adulthood.   Consider a 3-year-old child who tantrums every time a parent says no, so said parent learns to work around the situation by always caving to the toddler’s request, even if the want is not beneficial for her.  As she gets older and goes to elementary school, she will not only expect to always have her demands granted by other students and teachers, but will be ill-equipped to handle her disappointment, as she’s had no experience self-soothing, nor been forced to invent new ways to satisfy or re-address her needs.  Her public disenchantment in front of other children and adults will likely cause strife for all involved, plus she will be behind the eight ball when it comes to making good judgment calls herself, as she’s never had to consider the limitations of behavior.  Imagine how this ends if left unchecked year after year.  A parent constantly giving the green light at home to his kid’s every whim, a trajectory which will eventually cross paths with teachers, other kids, parents, the workforce at large, and society as a whole, bestows his child a grave injustice.  The adult she’ll grow into will be ill-equipped to handle the real world, where boundaries and disappointment are real and necessary, and those who can’t handle peaks and valleys and sharp turns of life’s roller coaster without tossing their cookies will be hurled off the track entirely.  And where do those grown kids end up?  You guessed it, right back in their parents’ home or under their parents’ financial umbrella, because that’s the only environment they’ll know how to negotiate.

Set them up for success and send them out into the world as competent adults by sticking to your gut parenting decisions today.  Don’t let your teen’s threat of hating you, your fear of going off the beaten path of what other parents are doing, or your worry that you’ll disappoint your child, cloud your resolve.  You know what’s right for your kids. Follow your gut and make decisions that work for your family, even if that means sometimes, or a lot of the time, saying NO to your child.  Encourage them to keep asking, share with them your reasoning for your responses when appropriate, and support their decision to be mad at you for yours.  They’ll understand it one day, and be grateful you took the time to make the tough choices on their behalf. 

Let Them Suffer the Consequences

One of the hardest things about being a parent is watching our kids make mistakes.  Even more difficult is allowing them to suffer the consequences of their actions.  Some parents choose to bypass the consequence part altogether, thinking they are helping their kids by taking away the sting of the ramification. They’re not.  In fact, we can do irreparable damage to our children by not allowing them to face the music.  It’s tempting to negate the punishment after the crime has been long forgotten.  Don’t let your child off the hook, though, or you’ll be sorry in the long run.  

I was in trouble a lot as a child.  I was a good kid with a big heart, and meant well.  I did, however, have the propensity for pranks.  From whoopee cushions on teachers’ chairs to Saran Wrap wrapped taut across the hole under the seat of the toilet in my parents’ bathroom, to stealing a kid’s snack, whose mother sent him something other than plain saltines, I was somewhat of a troublemaker and liked to pull practical jokes on my friends, family, and teachers.  Sometimes they were harmless and other times they went a bit too far.  My exasperated mother, who was both on the receiving end of my jokes, as well as listed first on the school principal’s speed dial list, dealt with one caper after another with me.  In grade-school, she’d hear about me having to sit out for recess, or “hit the fence” by running out of the classroom, out of the school and to the fence we viewed from our elementary school window and back as fast as I could.  Other times she’d get called in to pick me up late from school, as my deviance would dictate me staying after school to write the Gettysburg Address.  I’d even get in trouble while serving my time, as I found a way to work the system and write up numerous copies of the Gettysburg Address in advance of my being assigned punishment, so that I wouldn’t ever have to stay after school as long when I did get in trouble…I’d just pull out a pre-printed copy!  My mom dealt with it all.  Sometimes she’d let the punishment the school doled out serve as punishment enough.  Other times an additional ramification would be waiting for me at home, like being denied a privilege such as watching TV or playing video games, or having to do extra chores, or in extreme cases, getting grounded for days on end.  At a minimum, though, I got a severe talking to for my pranks and regular kid infractions, such as being nasty to my sister, not sharing my toys, getting into the adults’ business, and bossing everyone around.  The conversation would start with her conveying disappointment in my behavior and end with a threat of what would happen to me next time if I repeated my offense.

I had enough moxie to never repeat the same prank, but not enough smarts to stop the prankster routine, so I kept getting in trouble as I got older.  Junior high school moved into new territory where I was punished at school with humiliation (putting your face to the wall or wearing a dunce cap or getting detention) for such infractions as commenting on a male teacher’s underwear choice or skipping lunch in lieu of writing fake love notes from one teacher to another and leaving them on their car windshields.  I always got double punishment for these crimes, as I was old enough to know better.  I spent a lot of junior high weekends holed up in my bedroom instead of attending the school basketball games and high school football games. 

By the time I entered high school, I knew I had to tow the line and keep my nose clean, so I refrained from the big obstacles, like drugs and heavy drinking, and instead opted for skipping classes to go to Planned Parenthood and smoking on the school volleyball bus and incorrectly conjugating a cuss words in Spanish aimed at the teacher.  The consequences for my actions were stepped up substantially.  I was given in-school suspension, kicked off of sports teams and threatened with being stripped of my valedictorian status.  My home life was social event after social event being pulled from my calendar.  I pulled a stunt my senior year where a guy friend and I prank called the parents of a girlfriend of ours, from Florida during Spring Break, where their daughter was also vacationing with another family.  I pretended to be their daughter and told them I was being held hostage and he posed as the abductor.  We called them COLLECT from the Pink Porpoise motel in Ft. Myers Beach, where 20 of my closest senior friends and I vacationed in two adjoining rooms.  The second I hung up the phone that evening, I knew I had crossed a line.  I’ll never forget the day my mom received the letter from the girl’s parents in the mail.  The paragraphs detailed the conversation of the prank call, listed the names of all 21 kids that had vacationed in Florida in those two rooms that week, and described the fear the call had invoked in my friend’s parents until they were able to confirm the whereabouts of their daughter.  My name wasn’t singled out as one of the callers, but my mom knew I had done it before I even copped to the crime.  She was disappointed and mad, yes, but this time she was embarrassed of me and truly worried about my path in life.  I’m sure there was some major grounding and privilege taking associated with that hoax, but I don’t even remember them, as they paled in comparison to my parents’ requirement of me calling the friend and her parents that I had spoofed and admitting my identity and fault.  I also had to reimburse them for the collect call.  Additionally, my parents had me contact all 20 of the kids’ parents that had traveled with me on Spring Break and apologize for my actions and for bringing their kids into my mess.  The parents I hoodwinked were cordial to me when I called but have never spoken to me since that day.  Most of the other parents were receptive to my call, but some were very angry and I got a tongue lashing from a few.  I’m truly lucky I didn’t get more than that!  I had crossed the teenage bad behavior threshold and had truly hurt people.  I hurt my friend, her parents, my parents, and all the friends who had vacationed with me on Spring Break.  Sadly, I had also hurt myself, as I had done something I could never take back. 

I’m still friends with the girl, whose parents I deceived twenty-some-years ago.  She forgave me long ago.  I am blessed to still have many friends, teachers, and family members that believed in me then and cared enough to always make me face the music, even now.  That prank was the last one ever pulled.  Because of my parents and teachers both setting clear expectations and ramifications of my behavior, I was prepared for functioning as an adult in college and beyond.  I knew to expect an unexcused absence mark if I decided to blow off a class.  Three of those absences equaled a whole letter grade drop….not a surprise.  I understood that I ran the risk of not getting a job I wanted if I was late to the interview or lied on my resume.  Being kicked to the curb with or without my belonging was a clear result of not paying rent.  Life was not full of too many surprises because I was forced to take responsibility for my own actions as a child by my parents, and today because of them.  

Imagine, though, where I could have ended up had I never been assigned consequences for my actions.  I could be broken, cast away from society in prison, or living a life filled with drugs and crime, homeless living on the streets, or destitute and in trouble.  It’s not that far-fetched.  It took about ten years for my harmless kid pranks to escalate to truly destructive teenage behavior, all while being dealt punishments and consequences from my parents, teachers, and loved ones.  Imagine the scenario if left unchecked.  What if, when I called a kid a bad name at school in 4^th grade (even though the action warranted the name-calling, in my opinion) my parents hadn’t grounded me for my bad language and mean spirit and forced me to apologize after talking to me about compassion ?  I’ll tell you what:  I would have learned that “an eye for an eye” is fair game.  It would have condoned me being nasty and I would have continued to do it as a teen and young adult, and I would be, at the minimum, a complete bitch today.  Imagine the outcome if, when I lost my scholarship in college due to bad grades, attributable to pot smoking and dereliction, my parents told me it was okay, no worries, they’d foot the bill for my next semester, instead of telling me, “Tough break, you’ll have to live with your mom for the summer, get a job, pay her rent, get some counseling, and get drug tested every week until you prove you’re ready to go back to school.”?  I’ll tell you what:  I would have never finished college!  I would have screwed around indefinitely at my parents’ expense.  What if my mom hadn’t have staged an intervention when I was a stoner and heading nowhere fast as recent college drop-out?  I’d probably think it was okay to get high with my own kids today, like I’ve seen other parents do with theirs. 

Growing up, I often wished that my parents were more like some of my friends’ parents, who didn’t punish them, never required them to do chores or save their own money, treated them like their friends, and bailed them out when they got into tight spots.  Today I thank God that I was stuck with the parents I had.  Those friends truly didn’t stand a chance at life.  There’s not a one of them fully functioning as an adult today.  Now as a parent myself, I try to instill in my children a sense of responsibility for their actions.  Because of the things I did as a child, I probably over-enunciate the lesson to my kids, sometimes to a detriment.  My eight-year-old cries before I even correct her if she’s mean to her sister, and I sometimes wonder if my three-year-old is almost too young to understand the connection between tomorrow’s loss of treat privilege to today’s sassy response to her parents.  I have to say, though, I’d rather err on the side of caution that on the side of free-for-all.  I know how that turns out.  Today’s 10-year-old boy that backhands his sister without ramification is the same adult male up on charges for battery and assault.  Today’s 12-year-old girl left without consequence after telling her mother that she refuses to be nice to an unpopular girl at school because she doesn’t matter, turns into tomorrow’s college cyber-bully, responsible for the humiliating mass-text attributable to the death of a college freshman .  Today’s 1^st-grader telling his teacher he doesn’t have to do the homework because the teacher can’t make him, and left unaccountable, morphs into tomorrow’s recent college grad who loses his first job due to insubordination.

It’s hard to hold our kids accountable, especially when so many of us don’t hold ourselves accountable on a daily basis.  It can even be painful at times.  Sometimes punishments for our children have more detriment to us that to our kids.  He can’t watch TV for the day?  What will I do with him while I try to work out?  I guess no workout today with Elmo out of the picture.  Other times the consequence is simply a conversation about the child’s actions, or a review of your family’s Rubicon for consequences, which can be just as difficult for you to convey as it for your child to understand.  I truly feel like the Wicked Witch of the West when my toddler is crying huge crocodile tears and looking at me with eyes that say, “Why me, mom?” when I don’t let her have ice cream because of her bad behavior, even though her sister still gets the icy treat.  It’s the best feeling in the world, though, six months later, when at the same ice cream shop my slightly better behaved toddler asks me if today she can have an ice cream cone because she’s not misbehaving like last time when she didn’t get her treat.  The growth we help foster in our children by allowing them to suffer their consequences is well worth the sometimes uncomfortable interactions with our kids.  After all, our job is to be their parent, not their friend.  Our job is to do what’s best for them, even if it seems like it’s not best for us.  If you’ve never let them suffer before, let them suffer today by doling out a consequence for an action and give them a chance at being prepared for life outside your home, where the world is not so forgiving. 

Don't Dumb Down Your Kids!

You can call it evening the playing field, or making it fair to everyone, or even giving each person a chance, but I call it the blatant dumbing down of our own children, which in turn creates a future lackluster society.  No expectation of excellence or recognition for those who surpass the masses.  No healthy competition or exertion of energy or time to stand out among the crowd.  No use of creativity to break away from the pack.  Just a standard one size fits all approach where kids are rewarded just for showing up.  Today's popular parenting approach of indulging our children with every want and whim they have, without an expectation on the child, in order to keep them happy, is a recipe for disaster.

Do you remember the first time you didn’t get something you wanted that you had tried really hard to get?  For me, it was not making the volleyball team in 7^th grade.  

Up until then, I had always worked hard for everything I wanted:  a place in the school talent show, where I practiced and practiced and practiced my song until I knew I couldn’t do any better;   a solo in the kids choir at church, where I tediously reviewed my music at home after choir practice each night; a part in the high school musical when I was only in third grade, where I stayed after school each day and practiced with my music teacher to prepare for the audition.  

Before trying out for the volleyball team in 7^th grade, I made no special preparations.  I’m not particularly athletically inclined, and at the time I was chunky and not real stable on my feet.  I hadn’t played a lot of volleyball and didn’t think of myself of as a particularly great bumper, nor could I jump higher than to allow a piece of paper to be slid under my feet.  I didn’t know how to spike or set, and to top it off, I missed the three day volleyball clinic offered to all the incoming 7^th graders before tryouts, as my family was in Mexico for vacation.  

I still tried out, though, as all my friends were trying out I wanted to do what they did.  Most of my girl friends were sporty girls with a propensity for any game involving a ball.  Everything I know about any sport came from my girl friends growing up, as my parents never had an interest in teaching us about sports or playing them.  The tryout was hard, as I could tell I wasn’t at the same skill level as many of the other girls.  I worked hard, though, and improved during every drill.  During the scrimmage portion of the tryout, I got the volleyball bug and realized I really wanted to play volleyball because it was fun, not just because my friends did it.  I thought surely the coach would be able to see my want to succeed and my future potential.  I went home that day after practice proud of myself for my subtle improvements and full of anticipation for the posting of the new 7^th grade volleyball team the next day.

We didn’t find out if we made the team or not until the end of the school day and the anticipation was unbearable.  When the list was finally posted, I waited patiently for my turn up front, watching other girls shriek with excitement and jump up and down as they viewed their name on the list.  They called out other girls’ names that were waiting at the back of the line to see the list to give them a heads up that they made the team too, and hugs and high fives ensued.  I didn’t get a call out from any of the other girls and by the time I got to the front of the line, I knew with certainty that my name was not on that list, yet I held it together for the off-chance that I would be surprised when I miraculously saw my name.

I was one of only five girls that didn’t make the volleyball team that year.  I remember bursting into tears and thinking that my life was over.  Not only was I embarrassed standing there crying in a huddle with the other four girls that didn’t make the team, in front of the excited new 7^th grade girls volleyball team, but my pride was hurt, as I’d never experienced being formally turned down before.  Of course I remember being one of the last ones always picked on the kickball teams in grade school and not being asked over to a friend’s house after school in lieu of a new playmate, but that type of stuff, I learned from my parents, was just part of the growing up process…natural selection if you will.  As I matured, they helped me develop a habit of just not focusing on those things that weren’t a priority for me, like being the best kickball player, and instead focusing on those things that were….singing or acting or being a good friend.  But this, this public humiliation of having my name formally excluded from THE LIST, this was absolute heartbreak.

I cried, pouted, and complained about my luck.   My family consoled me, but my parents refused to fall prey to my pre-teen demands of them joining me in my pity party about how unfair it was.  They simply suggested that if I worked on improving my volleyball skills this year, I could probably make the team the next year.  I thought it was a load of bologna and thought it was a highly unsensitive remark to make.  After a few days, though, I started to think they might have a point.  I actually did like volleyball and I was just as upset about not being able to participate in something fun as I was about being humiliated.  So I went to the coach and asked her how I could get better so I could make the team next year. She suggested practicing bumping and setting at home on my own or with friends, gave me the names of volleyball camps in the area, and then offered me the position of team manager.  I’m a sucker for a title, so I accepted the ”job” immediately and started working with the team by setting up the nets for practice each day after school, filling water coolers, shagging balls during drills, and collecting sweaty towels after practice.  By attending every practice, I got to see what type of drills the girls were doing, and what the level of expectation was for skill.  I went to every game, both at home and away, and backed up the team, took stats, and performed my job, all the while seeing how those drills and practices panned out in a game setting.

I gave up three months of after-school hours to devote to being the team manager.   I practiced at home in the front yard by myself bumping and setting a volleyball.  I taught my sister, three years my junior, the basic bump and set, and since she was super athletic already as a kid, we started practicing together.  My friends on the team practiced with me whenever they had free time and the coach would let me fill in if they were short people for a drill.  I went to a volleyball camp over the summer and improved on my skills.  My reward was nowhere immediate, as it took an entire year of practicing and give and take to improve.

In the fall of next year, I was the first in line for the volleyball clinic offered before tryouts for the 8^th grade team.  I gave it my all and my skills had improved enough to make the team.  I was still on the low end of the volleyball talent pool.  I sat on the bench a lot and I was nowhere near a star player.  But the point was to make the team to do something I enjoyed.  The point was to follow through on something I wanted and make an effort to change the outcome next time confronted with the same situation.  The point was to be a part of a team that was just as proud of me as I was of myself for all of my hard work.  The point is that 27 years later, I still play volleyball and have played on some sort of team, whether it be high school sports or social leagues, almost every year since 8^th grade and I love it!  The point is that had I not been cut from the team in 7^th grade, had I not dealt with the reality that my skill level was not up to par with the rest of the girls, I may never have learned the tenacity required to actively participate in that little thing called life.  The world is competitive.  It always has been, and always will be, whether we teach our kids to compete or not.

There’s this huge trend right now of letting our kids think that they should get everything they want, just because they want it, without having to exert any energy or sometimes without seeing the reality of the situation.  This philosophy permeates the parent pick-up line at school, where moms complain that the grade school talent show isn't fair and really shouldn’t really be a show in which you have to prove an actual talent, but more a variety show, so that all the kids could be part of it and demonstrate whatever they want to share, without anyone having to ever be disappointed in not getting in.  This philosophy bred the banning of teachers grading student papers in red ink or marker in some schools, so as not to make the students feel bad.  This attitude accounts for equal playing time on some school sports teams for kids of all skill level during school-to-school competitions so each child feels worthy. 

Basically this movement provides for us as parents and teachers, to reward our kids just for showing up, without ever having to experience the blood, sweat and tears of effort or the disappointment of failure.  Do you know that our school district rewarded our kids one year with a ticket to Six Flags just for showing up to school on the first day of school, since the no show percentage for the first day of school was traditionally so high?  That free ticket actually comes with a hefty price:  it condones our kids thinking that they should be rewarded for doing just the bare minimum.  

It teaches them to feel entitled.  It creates a cesspool of mediocrity for the generations to come, who feel it their natural-born right to be given an education, handed a job, and passed a pile of money, all while skating by meeting bare minimum standards.   

“They should all be given a part since they had the courage to try out,” one parent suggested about the school play.   

While that proposed scenario may represent a small moment in time today, tomorrow it will morph into your child expecting an A in English Lit just for reading the book and the next day feeling entitled to a BMW just for graduating from college with a C average.

I am not suggesting that everyone strive for above average or excellence in academics, talents, or anything else.  I am simply signifying that you teach your kids to decipher between their best effort put forth and not having fully utilized one’s own potential.  In other words, let’s deal with reality.  If your kid didn’t make the team, don’t automatically appeal to the coach for further review.  Instead use the event as a learning experience, as a time to address disappointment and failure and build self-esteem instead of hinder it.  The most defining moments in my life are not the ones where I achieved the most success, but instead those where I didn’t reach my goal:  not making the volleyball team, losing my college scholarship, not getting chosen for a job, being unable to carry a pregnancy to term.  The list goes on and on.  In retrospect, they were all experiences that seemed unbearable at the time, but in fact, helped me recognize my weaknesses, embrace my humility, and allowed me to become a better person by working through the situation.

I have my parents to thank for these viewpoints, as had they not forced me to deal with reality at an early age, I would not be so comfortable in my own skin today.  They expected me to take responsibility for my own actions, always try my best, and always treat others with respect.  When I faced disappointment, they were there to listen and console me, but they were also present to help me dissect the event and build a game plan as to how to avoid heartbreak in the future, whether it be letting go of that particular priority or working on myself to better prepare.  They also impressed on me that sometimes things just don’t work out!  Get over it and move on.  They didn’t candy coat situations and tell me that I was just as talented, or even more talented than the next kid, if I wasn’t.  If I showed an interest in a subject or an activity or an art, they expected me to learn about it on my own…they would not do it for me.  If I chose to do a half-ass job on a project, they taught me to expect half-ass results.  To get ahead, they told me to work harder, no questions asked.  That taught me to compete.

There is something to be said for just showing up.  Sometimes you get things by default by being the only one that shows up.  You get a partial college scholarship because no one else applied.  You get an entry-level job because you were the only applicant and the HR Manager didn’t have time to wait for more applicants.  You got the guy because you happened to be standing there and he turned to you when his true love dumped him.  All of this is called chance.  Life if full of it and it keeps us bewildered at the amazing turns we’re offered in life. 

The majority of opportunities we’re offered in this world, however, revolve around competition.  Set your children up for success.  Tell them the truth.  Be their parent and not their friend.  Don’t make them feel better, make them understand how to be better.  Teach them how to stay in the game, show them how to beat their opponent, and most importantly, help them understand that what they learn during the game is just as important as who wins the competition.