Jade
April 28th 2003, 10:17 PM
(Link back to part II (http://www.theologyweb.com/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=3439))
How to Manage Your Time, Children and Sanity (Part 3) (http://www.family.org/pplace/newparent/A0022926.cfm)
by Allie Pleiter
Repetition and clarity can be your staunchest allies in this parenting business. Before we head anywhere where special behavior is needed, I repeat my expectations—ideally until the kids can say them with me. Children need to absorb rules in many different ways—my visual learners have taught me this. Our daily expectations are up on a chart in the kitchen. I tell them the chores, and they have chips on a pegboard that outline them as well. They know I expect them to turn each chore's chip over when they've completed their task.
When they were really little, I needed to live by the "divide and conquer" rule. At three and four, neither Amanda nor CJ could grasp what "clean your room" meant. They could however, get their little minds around a three-pronged approach. Instead of "clean your room," we used (1) straighten your bed, (2) animals and toys off the floor, and (3) clothes in the hamper. I have found that this three-part harmony works for a variety of different activities.
The Magical Leverage of Cause and Effect
I am also a big believer in rewards and consequences. Try as I might (and I have tried mightily), I have been unable to help my young children grasp "because it's the right thing to do." It is rare to find such a value in adults, so I'm not ready to expect it of my children, even though I'll continue to teach it, hoping it sinks in someday. I do want my children to learn obedience, and there are some things that require absolute obedience in our house, but I don't want to wield that heavy hammer every moment.
I believe rewards have a golden place in child rearing. Rewards are not always tangible, but they must be meaningful. Rewards can be an extra goodie, the chance to stay up five minutes later (you'd be astounded at what an extra five minutes means to a child), or tokens that can be saved up for extra special things like a chance to go out for pie with Mom. Sometimes, a reward can be as clear-cut as explaining to the child that if we do the task now, we'll have more time to do something fun later. It's the magical leverage of cause and effect. Chores done throughout the week means we can do something fun on Sunday afternoon. Good behavior at the mall means everyone has a good time and we can come back soon. Peaceful backseat relations on a long car trip means we can stop at Dairy Queen next time we need gas.
Now I know there are parents who feel this strategy implants a "what's in it for me?" attitude in our children. But I ask you: Do you know any adults who go to work without a salary (not counting us at-home moms)? There's a fine line, a healthy place between recognizing the benefits and being a full-fledged mercenary.
The Power of Plan B
I love Star Trek. I'd just love it if someone offered me a chance to spend a week—a day even—on the legendary U.S.S. Enterprise or it's more recent cousin, Voyager. Captains Kirk, Picard, and Janeway are heroes to me. And I have found more than a few life lessons amongst all the aliens and starships. As far as I'm concerned, the reason Star Trek's ultimate villains, the Borg, conquered the galaxy was their adaptability. These evil robotic creatures "assimilated" every species in their path and were unstoppable because they could instantly adapt to any threat. If the clever Captain Janeway hit them with a new strain of photon torpedoes, they created a new defense before our hero could reload the next array.
Now, I am not aiming to have my children take over the galaxy. I do, however, want them to be as good as adapting as the Borg. I want them to embrace the philosophy imparted to me by one of my college professors: "Life," she would say, "is the ability to go to Plan B."
"Plan B. " Those are crucial words at my house. We are The Plan B Family. The first response I want to hear when our family faces an obstacle is "Time to Go to Plan B." It is an excellent strategy for anyone—especially parents. We as parents had better be able to adapt all the way down to Plan G if needed. Adaptability has some wonderful by-products as well. Creativity, persistence, and problem-solving are all ingredients for a Plan B.
I knew I'd hit the mark on a recent vacation. Near the end of our very long drive to Florida, we were involved in a potentially serious accident. Not many of us can say we drove away from a head-on collision on the highway, but God protected our family and none of us were injured when an out-of-control vehicle spun into the front of our car. As soon as we had established that we were all okay, my youngest son echoed the family crisis motto: "Well, Mom," he said, "looks like we're going to have an adventure."
That's what we say at our house when trouble rears its ugly head. We reclaim our control and dub it an "adventure." Being locked out of the house in the dead of winter is an adventure-—especially if it's snowing. Realizing in Maryland that I left my purse on my aunt's dining room table in Pennsylvania is a whopping big adventure (I admit I cried when that happened, but we found our way—and my purse—just the same). Finding out at the front gate that the zoo is closed is an adventure. Looking for the new waterpark when we left the directions at home is an adventure.
I'm not going to tell you that some of those adventures didn't turn out horribly. Some of them were just plain awful. Driving to Washington D.C. alone at night instead of in the daytime because my wayward purse added three hours to our trip was pretty awful. I was frightened about being in a new city with two children and no cell phone. We were heading to my brother's house, but I was leery of finding my way in the dark. I was upset at my irresponsibility, worried for my kids, and more than a little scared.
I will also tell you that halfway into that trip, as dusk fell and tensions rose, I had the joy of being comforted by my young son. The memory of him singing church songs to me as we headed down the highway far off our original timetable will stay forever. Preschool ditties about Noah's ark reminded me of God's mercy and sovereignty. There was an adventure hiding in that crisis, even that crisis. We made it just fine, and our whole family learned that God can protect us anywhere, anytime. When I think of that trip—which, incidentally, was a fabulous adventure for us that summer—I don't think of the Smithsonian or the Washington Monument, I think of Christopher's tiny voice ministering to me from the backseat. And I am deeply aware that Plan A would not have revealed that magic moment.
"What should we do now?" These are powerful questions for the Plan B Family. "How do we handle this?" "What kind of adventure will this turn out to be?" These are the questions I teach my children to ask in the face of obstacles. Obstacles that are as small as running out of NutriGrain Bars or as large as demolishing the family car. I believe they teach my children to think, "What does God have in store for me to learn now?" instead of "That's it! I'm done for! "
It's the shift of a single word: not "problem," but "adventure." It's a powerful outlook on life.
The CEO's Lesson for the CHO
Such big lessons don't come in curriculums. You cannot download a five-point Vacation Bible School plan on resilience off the Internet. These are lessons that come in a thousand tiny pieces over the course of young lives. What is it you want your children to learn? What character trait do you most value in adults? You don't have to create a vast life plan to put them to work. Often just giving it a name, a focus, is all you need. The emphasis blooms all on its own. And such thinking helps you as a mother to realize the all-important fact that your profession is not about "doing" or "accomplishing." It's about building and being. Growing and molding. Those are wildly long-term, hopelessly invisible goals. If we're not looking carefully, the continual mundane of the everyday will drown them out. We will loose our purpose, our patience, and our perspective.
That's what separates CEOs from managers. Managers manage. CEOs provide vision, big picture thinking. Now we of course, as mothers, we are called upon for both.
How to Manage Your Time, Children and Sanity (Part 3) (http://www.family.org/pplace/newparent/A0022926.cfm)
by Allie Pleiter
Repetition and clarity can be your staunchest allies in this parenting business. Before we head anywhere where special behavior is needed, I repeat my expectations—ideally until the kids can say them with me. Children need to absorb rules in many different ways—my visual learners have taught me this. Our daily expectations are up on a chart in the kitchen. I tell them the chores, and they have chips on a pegboard that outline them as well. They know I expect them to turn each chore's chip over when they've completed their task.
When they were really little, I needed to live by the "divide and conquer" rule. At three and four, neither Amanda nor CJ could grasp what "clean your room" meant. They could however, get their little minds around a three-pronged approach. Instead of "clean your room," we used (1) straighten your bed, (2) animals and toys off the floor, and (3) clothes in the hamper. I have found that this three-part harmony works for a variety of different activities.
The Magical Leverage of Cause and Effect
I am also a big believer in rewards and consequences. Try as I might (and I have tried mightily), I have been unable to help my young children grasp "because it's the right thing to do." It is rare to find such a value in adults, so I'm not ready to expect it of my children, even though I'll continue to teach it, hoping it sinks in someday. I do want my children to learn obedience, and there are some things that require absolute obedience in our house, but I don't want to wield that heavy hammer every moment.
I believe rewards have a golden place in child rearing. Rewards are not always tangible, but they must be meaningful. Rewards can be an extra goodie, the chance to stay up five minutes later (you'd be astounded at what an extra five minutes means to a child), or tokens that can be saved up for extra special things like a chance to go out for pie with Mom. Sometimes, a reward can be as clear-cut as explaining to the child that if we do the task now, we'll have more time to do something fun later. It's the magical leverage of cause and effect. Chores done throughout the week means we can do something fun on Sunday afternoon. Good behavior at the mall means everyone has a good time and we can come back soon. Peaceful backseat relations on a long car trip means we can stop at Dairy Queen next time we need gas.
Now I know there are parents who feel this strategy implants a "what's in it for me?" attitude in our children. But I ask you: Do you know any adults who go to work without a salary (not counting us at-home moms)? There's a fine line, a healthy place between recognizing the benefits and being a full-fledged mercenary.
The Power of Plan B
I love Star Trek. I'd just love it if someone offered me a chance to spend a week—a day even—on the legendary U.S.S. Enterprise or it's more recent cousin, Voyager. Captains Kirk, Picard, and Janeway are heroes to me. And I have found more than a few life lessons amongst all the aliens and starships. As far as I'm concerned, the reason Star Trek's ultimate villains, the Borg, conquered the galaxy was their adaptability. These evil robotic creatures "assimilated" every species in their path and were unstoppable because they could instantly adapt to any threat. If the clever Captain Janeway hit them with a new strain of photon torpedoes, they created a new defense before our hero could reload the next array.
Now, I am not aiming to have my children take over the galaxy. I do, however, want them to be as good as adapting as the Borg. I want them to embrace the philosophy imparted to me by one of my college professors: "Life," she would say, "is the ability to go to Plan B."
"Plan B. " Those are crucial words at my house. We are The Plan B Family. The first response I want to hear when our family faces an obstacle is "Time to Go to Plan B." It is an excellent strategy for anyone—especially parents. We as parents had better be able to adapt all the way down to Plan G if needed. Adaptability has some wonderful by-products as well. Creativity, persistence, and problem-solving are all ingredients for a Plan B.
I knew I'd hit the mark on a recent vacation. Near the end of our very long drive to Florida, we were involved in a potentially serious accident. Not many of us can say we drove away from a head-on collision on the highway, but God protected our family and none of us were injured when an out-of-control vehicle spun into the front of our car. As soon as we had established that we were all okay, my youngest son echoed the family crisis motto: "Well, Mom," he said, "looks like we're going to have an adventure."
That's what we say at our house when trouble rears its ugly head. We reclaim our control and dub it an "adventure." Being locked out of the house in the dead of winter is an adventure-—especially if it's snowing. Realizing in Maryland that I left my purse on my aunt's dining room table in Pennsylvania is a whopping big adventure (I admit I cried when that happened, but we found our way—and my purse—just the same). Finding out at the front gate that the zoo is closed is an adventure. Looking for the new waterpark when we left the directions at home is an adventure.
I'm not going to tell you that some of those adventures didn't turn out horribly. Some of them were just plain awful. Driving to Washington D.C. alone at night instead of in the daytime because my wayward purse added three hours to our trip was pretty awful. I was frightened about being in a new city with two children and no cell phone. We were heading to my brother's house, but I was leery of finding my way in the dark. I was upset at my irresponsibility, worried for my kids, and more than a little scared.
I will also tell you that halfway into that trip, as dusk fell and tensions rose, I had the joy of being comforted by my young son. The memory of him singing church songs to me as we headed down the highway far off our original timetable will stay forever. Preschool ditties about Noah's ark reminded me of God's mercy and sovereignty. There was an adventure hiding in that crisis, even that crisis. We made it just fine, and our whole family learned that God can protect us anywhere, anytime. When I think of that trip—which, incidentally, was a fabulous adventure for us that summer—I don't think of the Smithsonian or the Washington Monument, I think of Christopher's tiny voice ministering to me from the backseat. And I am deeply aware that Plan A would not have revealed that magic moment.
"What should we do now?" These are powerful questions for the Plan B Family. "How do we handle this?" "What kind of adventure will this turn out to be?" These are the questions I teach my children to ask in the face of obstacles. Obstacles that are as small as running out of NutriGrain Bars or as large as demolishing the family car. I believe they teach my children to think, "What does God have in store for me to learn now?" instead of "That's it! I'm done for! "
It's the shift of a single word: not "problem," but "adventure." It's a powerful outlook on life.
The CEO's Lesson for the CHO
Such big lessons don't come in curriculums. You cannot download a five-point Vacation Bible School plan on resilience off the Internet. These are lessons that come in a thousand tiny pieces over the course of young lives. What is it you want your children to learn? What character trait do you most value in adults? You don't have to create a vast life plan to put them to work. Often just giving it a name, a focus, is all you need. The emphasis blooms all on its own. And such thinking helps you as a mother to realize the all-important fact that your profession is not about "doing" or "accomplishing." It's about building and being. Growing and molding. Those are wildly long-term, hopelessly invisible goals. If we're not looking carefully, the continual mundane of the everyday will drown them out. We will loose our purpose, our patience, and our perspective.
That's what separates CEOs from managers. Managers manage. CEOs provide vision, big picture thinking. Now we of course, as mothers, we are called upon for both.