Spitting and Hitting and All That Pretty Stuff
I’m not thinking this picture will win her cutest kid of the year.
Honestly, I haven’t felt like voting for her lately.
She’s been giving us the 2-year-old treatment lately complete with spitting and hitting every one of us.
Nothing cute about that.
And, so, we’ve had to start figuring out how to discipline her. You’d think parents of 4 children would know what they are doing by the time #4 needs correction. But, I am figuring this all out for the first time.
Time-outs has always been my method of choice with the other 3–isolate the child for a period of time so he/she can take a breather (as can I) and then we can talk about his/her choice and what a better choice may look like and walk through the apology and forgiveness process.
But, Lydia was adopted. And, before she was adopted, she was in an institution for a year with rotating nannies and no one caregiver that belonged to her who she could bond with. And, time-outs for a child with a traumatic infancy like Lydia’s who is learning or has just learned to connect can feel that I am, in effect, isolating her from my love not merely my physical presence. And, I certainly do not want to do that to her.
After all, I’m not about behavior modification ultimately. I am into discipling not disciplining my child, walking along with her to help her be the person God wants her to be. Part of that discipling involves correction–but the goal is not to modify behavior but help change a heart.
So, we’ve been trying a form of “time-ins” though we’re still calling it a “time-out.” We pull out a stool for her in the same place we are and ask her to stay on it. We stay within her view the whole time, so she has to take a break from the situation but not from us. Even as she cries, we tell her we will talk to her as soon as she is ready. Then, we do our best to talk her through what she did wrong and how she cannot hit or spit.
Sounds all good, right? She calms down, nods her head, gives us a hug, hugs whoever she decided to hit or spit on this time.
Then we ask, “Are you going to spit at her again?”
And, she answers, “Yes.”
{smile}
I think I need a time-out.
the (not so) itsy bitsy spider
(don’t worry. no photos for this post.)
My kids may need therapy.
Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
But, it may be if this single event is part of the cause.
Ashlyn was going down to the basement to get something–don’t even know what now. That’s not important. What was important is that her mission was stopped because of a spider. And, it was no little spider. She came upstairs without whatever it was she was going down for and told me she would not go down in the basement again until that spider was gone.
Oh, come on. I’ll get it.
Nope. Too big for me. This is one Dad’s gotta handle (you know, he’s so much older and more mature than me).
But, my message must have gotten somehow confused because rather than kill the spider, he put it in a bug catcher jar which I’m embarrassed to say we have too many of to count and many hang out either empty or with some sort of remains of some creature in my kitchen, usually on top of my refrigerator…but sometimes not. It is what it is.
This spider was huge and even scarier close up. I mean, I know a firm piece of plexiglass was between us, but this thing was disgusting and somehow managed to spend a good couple days on my kitchen counter in full view.
I had had enough. When my eldest started taunting me with it at the dinner table, I announced that they better take the thing outside and let it go (so merciful of me). And, I meant immediately. But, my first (second? third?) mistake was going into the other room to make a phone call. As I was hanging up, Evan and Ashlyn ran in laughing, claiming that Lydia had the bug jar and now it was empty and the spider was somewhere in the kitchen.
Ha. Ha. Very funny.
Mark, you guys took it outside, right? Come on, you are kidding me….right? right? Lydia had the jar and then it was empty? No…
Seconds later, Lydia screamed like I’ve never heard before. I mean blood-curdling, trembling all over, eyes bulging scream. After which she shakes her arm and flings off the spider which proceeded to land on our dinner table still full of our dinner. I scoop Lydia up and try to calm the poor girl down (who is now sobbing crying) while the spider makes a break for it, scurrying quickly across the table. Drew, who had still been eating, is now also sobbing crying and cowering in the corner of our eat-in bench. Dad, always the hero, goes after the escapee with the first thing he can grab…which happened to be Drew’s fork. For some reason, swatting at a fast-moving large spider with a child’s fork isn’t all that effective though he did manage to force it off the table and onto the floor where he then stepped on it. and smashed it. as he should have by himself when I sent him down to the basement a few days earlier.
Drew calmed down after a few minutes. Lydia took a few more minutes and kept saying, “bug bug, up, arm, scary.”
Nice.
A couple days later, they seem okay. But, for some reason, here I am at midnight blogging about the whole ordeal. I find myself having to debrief about it. Occasionally, since it happened, I’ll just think about it and shutter or just smile and laugh aloud (…a little).
It was quite a scene.
Perhaps I’m the one who might need therapy.
Flowers and Feathers
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