Positive Reinforcement Gone Wrong

Thanks to Michael things are actually fairly mellow around here.

 http://twintensity.blogspot.com/2011/10/two-men-in-my-mirror-with-pictures-of.html

So mellow, in fact, that I am having some difficulties with the whole positive reinforcement thing.

Good enough for Santa? (Waiting for Santa's arrival at the Strathpine Shoppng Center.)

Positive reinforcement is also the cornerstone of the behavioural program at Lawnton State School.  So much so, that one begins to wonder when too much is too much.  The program is in place mostly for the children with behavioural issues and for those, often the same, who don't get the attention and positive reinforcement at home.  Ryan's teacher quoted some appalling statistic to me about children of university educated parents hearing positive things something like a hundred times a day while children of parents without a university education hear it only twenty.  By the time she got to children of parents with problems like drugs, alcohol and incarceration, the number went down to seven.

Don't quote me.  But you see where I'm going.

But when does the absence of positive reinforcement turn into a punishment in itself?

(Rest assured we never had these problems in the German school system!  There, Andrew's accomplishments were downplayed to make him more like everyone else and Ryan's accomplishments were never good enough to count at all.)

I strongly support the program at Lawnton.  How can I not love a program where the vice-principal comes onto the PA system before break to remind everyone to to be kind?!

But when I mimicked the program at home, I began to run into problems.  The first ten days were great.  We were dealing with minor issues; Matthew throwing a tantrum because Aidan had the chalkboard first, Aidan throwing his truck at Matthew, Ryan tickling Andrew on the back of the neck, Andrew punching Ryan in the face because of it.  All normal kid things really.

Not perfect, but trying.

When I implemented a reward system, counting the days they all behaved, and then celebrating with 'Spiders' after ten 'good' days, the days sped by quickly and we were sipping 'Spiders' almost immediately.  (Spiders are known as ice-cream sodas to the rest of the world.)

And now we can't get past two.

The problem doesn't lie in the kids' behaviour; again, we have some teasing, a bit of punching and throwing, some chatting with Jesus in a less-than-respectful manner. 

It lies in the expectations.

Sure, Aidan has called to Jesus twice in the past week.  But he immediately apologized and then told me that he really likes Jesus and meant no disrespect. 

There have been no other swears.  At all.  For ages and ages.

There IS hitting.  Aidan throws things quite a bit too. Quite a bit as in once every couple of days.  The hitting is almost daily, but it is one of the three boys throwing a quick punch.  Ryan pesters everyone almost constantly but we figure that is a girl thing.  (THANK GOD I HAVE FOUR BOYS!  I'll take a well-placed punch over constant pestering any day.)

Yes, good enough for Santa!  (I realize I have an extra in there; always room for one more, especially when it's Jade!)

Whatever it is, it happens once, is immediately addressed with a time-out, apologies are exchanged and the issue is over.

So that, really, ALL of our days are 'good' days.

And it seems that not labelling them as such under the current system is actually a form of punishment in itself.

I believe my expectations of perfect harmony at ALL TIMES isn't fair.  These are good kids.  They don't actually NEED a reward model as positive reinforcement for good behaviour.

The reward lies in a sense of family and in time spent together as family. 

Something a sticker on the forehead doesn't come close to.

What The Kids Have Taught Us

You learn something every day. And this time I am sticking to the present tense, because the past is just too darn confusing. (The other option is to change the verb from "learn" to "taught" as I did in the title, but that throws me into the passive voice.)

Learned or learnt? Well, after some Internet research it appears to be a matter of some debate. No news really that English is a language in constant change.

And darn it, I just knew my lack of knowledge about tenses would get me into trouble some day! WHERE IS THE EDITOR WHEN I NEED HIM?! (I actually know where he is, through facebook, and know he is dealing with more important matters than grammar right now.) What about the rest of you teaching English? Any comments?

What I discovered is that "learned" and "learnt" are both past tenses of the word "learn." (But thanks for opening up that barrel of worms, Brenda. As if I'm not worried enough about my qualifications to home-school already!)

Learnt is the past participle. Whatever that means.

Learnt is also the "T" form out of the Old English, and derived from the German. Ich lerne. Du lernst. Er lernt. Wir lernen. Ihr lernt. Sie lernen. (Which may explain why Brenda uses it?) It is often referred to as the English form - which may explain why Mark uses it. But it is being phased out in American English. And also losing ground in English English.

Which is going to be my excuse for not even knowing about it.

So what have we learned from our children?

Claire is requesting better questions. More embarrassing Mommy stories and less soul-searching on the Internet!

Brenda is correcting my grammar. (And the reason I just looked up "embarrassing" in the dictionary just now!)

But they came up with some gems for me too. Thank-you.

1. That there are more important things to worry about than finger-prints on the windows.

2. To put a can of air-freshener in each room. Kids stink a lot!

3. That it is hard to grow up. Seeing the real thing in front of you, makes you realize when you are acting childish yourself.

4. To enjoy the kids you really have to immerse yourself in them. Which means giving up some of your self.

Thanks ladies.

And we got more, one from a Dad too.

5. We were so busy getting ready and preparing and cooking and baking and cleaning for Levi's party, that in a sense for the two days leading up to the party we neglected him. We kept chasing him out of the way because he wanted to show us something or do something with us but we were too busy getting ready to respond to him.

Mark and Liesl Do have their priorities straight. Levi. Not the fingerprints on the windows!

6. Laura has learned - the hard way - that kids listen AND REPEAT the things they hear. Hence Morgen, at age three, coming up with such gems as "Are you serious?" and "You're killing me!" as well as a well-placed "Je-SUS" when her Dad hit the brakes a bit too hard. This is my niece. If you want to get the full effect, listen to how I say the first two. My sister and I sound exactly alike despite not having grown up together after the first 9 years of her life. My guess is her daughter sounds exactly like us both. Would like to think we're passing on the GOOD parts of ourselves too!

7. Not to bother wishing for more hours in a day. Because that just means more cleaning and not more sleeping.

8. That sometimes you wish they'd grow up faster and sometimes you wish they'd stay this little forever.

9. Sarah has learned that English is a strange language and hard to explain. As in having to reassure her son that "he didn't really kill it. That's just an expression." Hmmm.....better not have him talking to Morgen!

I honestly hadn't expected that level of soul-searching. Noone mentioned:

10. The ability to change a diaper with one hand, standing in the middle of the swimming pool, while watching the other three diving off the high-board. (Damon's cousin Stefanie about nine years ago. I will never forget it.)

11. How to nurse -or worse yet, prepare and feed a bottle - in the middle of the night without waking up completely. (I had a night with Damon away where I managed to nurse one of the twins, while reaching over past him to his brother with a bottle simultaneously ...all while still somehow managing to keep my head on the pillow! People in my yoga class wonder why I'm so flexible!)

Mostly I think we learn to deal with (and laugh at?) the ridiculous and focus on what's really important.

I really want to hear about your dreamhouses. (And we can keep adding to this list too.)

I promise Claire, after that we'll get to some barfing in the car and kids commenting on the size of your butt to strangers.

Here's hoping you all have learnt (or learned?) as much from this as I have!

Thank you.

Wrong Impression

Some Americans have moved into the apartment downstairs and I'm a little worried they might get the wrong idea about us.

Little things. Like when I was chasing the boys around the house Saturday afternoon. Literally. With a whiffle ball bat. While they screeched happily and danced naked just out of my reach. "Monster coming. Monster coming."

(I wouldn't want to live in the apartment below us, but so far, in six years, noone's ever complained!)

"I am not a monster. I'm your mother." Swat with the bat at a naked behind.

Come to think of it, we'd better start saving up for some serious couch time in the fuure.

The other thing that worries me is the song I wrote and taught them.

"I love to beat my children. I beat them every day. And when I beat my children, oh this is what they say."

Rousing chorus from the kids: "Beat me Momma, beat me Momma, beat me Momma, please."

It's a really catchy tune, actually. (You can also tickle the children, hug the children and kiss the children.....but they like the beating the best!)

At the end of the day we sat down to read the poems of Heinrich Hoffmann, a popular German children's book from the mid 1800s. In it, the girl playing with matches gets burned - to death. The boy who won't eat his soup starves - to death. The kid who sucks his thumb gets to live though - after the tailor cuts off both his thumbs.

Go on. It's a lovely collection of children's tales. The boys LOVE it.

I'm just banking on the fact that our new neighbors couldn't understand a word of it!

Not Your Average Mom

I have my days.

Soccer days, baseball days, days at the barn and days baking for the class picnic.

Like a "good" mom.

Then there are the other days.

Days I don't feel like doing what I am "supposed" to do.

So the kids eat icecream BEFORE lunch. And get to play with body paint. (By which I mean regular watercolors applied to back and belly.) Or get to jump up and down on the bed naked.

They get to take water outside to the sandbox. And sand inside to their play kitchen.

The rules are "be kind" and "try not to make too too much of a mess."

My kids ARE kind. And they know how to grab the paper towels and wipe up most spills before I find out about them.

So, I'm fairly pleased with the results.

Today we got ready for Germany's first World Cup Soccer match in South Africa on Sunday. Against Australia. As a family boasting passports to both, we had a family discussion on who to root for. Damon, our almost-native Australian, at first convinced the older two to root for Australia. But, believe it or not, I REALLY REALLY LOVE my German team. Those boys were with me - and all of Germany - the summer Aidan and Matthew were born.

So I put on my Michael Ballack T-shirt, number 13. (Don't sweat it, honey, you'll still be hot playing for a German team instead of in England.) Then I pulled out the German flag face paint. Both cheeks. Andrew promptly switched sides at the sight of the facepaint and then I painted the Australian flag on Ryan. (The southern cross on her face, a semblance of the British flag on her left forehead and streaks of blue all over.)

I've promised to paint them for school again tomorrow. Can't wait to hear how Ryan's day goes! But then again, she's not your average kid either!

Just now she came to me - the Southern Cross really suits her, by the way - and asked me what to do with her pink, plastic Disney princess thermos.

"It's starting to get a little moldy at the top here," she pointed out. "Should I just throw it away?"

THAT'S MY GIRL!

(Although I did take it from her and wash it in the sink - I am SO PROUD she has been listening to our talks on 'not taking it with you.')

Adventures await. And I do believe our "not supposed" to days have prepared my kids for all the fun that lies ahead. Rules - and kitchen gadgets - are nice sometimes. But they're not ALL life has to offer. My kids know that.

Two's Company

The older two have been away visiting their grandparents in the USA for two weeks now and I'd like to say that we have all been missing eachother terribly. Truth is that we've only telephoned twice, once to see that they arrived and once this week. Ryan and Andrew are having the time of their lives and barely have time to make it to the phone. "Mom? AGAIN? Didn't we talk to you already?!" No word yet from my parents on how THEY are holding up, but the kids are in paradise.

Damon and I, in the meantime, are having a second honeymoon. We have two pre-school age kids and it is heaven. Easy. Piece of cake. I've never had three kids, so I know nothing about three being a crowd, but two is definitely company. What a breeze!

Two is, in my mind, definitely the sane amount of children to have. Although noone has ever accused me of being sane. With one kid you have to get used to having to pay constant attention to someone other than yourself. Although, in my case, she was such a joy, that it really wasn't all that hard either. With two kids you have to learn to divide that constant attention into more than a single focus. Life-changing but also doable. By the time you hit three you are on a constant merry-go-round and my guess is it just keeps spinning faster the more you add on.

The trick would be learning to keep your balance.

It gets even trickier once a couple of the kids are in school. Then come the endless appointments, the school projects, the bake sales, the swimming and music lessons, the soccer, baseball, horsebackriding, dance. (Rock-climbing, judo, karate, Irish dance, violin, choir, theatre.....add your own here.) While none of my KIDS are overscheduled or under stress, I certainly am. Homework sucks. Group projects are a nightmare. And baking isn't a problem but volunteering at the damn event certainly is. I like most of our afterschool activities, having cut out the ones that don't suit us as a family in the past two years, but it is still an exhausting schedule.

The biggest problem is that we never have time to just BE anymore. We have an hour or two before the next appointment. Or we have to wait an hour - or two - for someone to finish up her homework. Homework kills the independent spirit and should be outlawed. Period. If they can't teach it on school time, don't shove it onto our free time at home. Period.

I really needed this summer break.

The boys and I spent twenty minutes checking out a caterpillar in the park in Stuttgart the other day. The same amount of time we spent in the bathroom in the Natural History Museum and the total amount of time we made it through the Dinosaur Museum. In between bathrooms, museums and caterpillars we just walked through the park singing songs and looking at things. Going on a bear hunt. Running foot races. Feeding the crows our bread. Doing ABSOLULTEY NOTHING on OUR OWN TIME with absolutely NO OTHER PLACE TO BE. Commitment free. What a luxury.

It also helped to have only two children, in the same age range, to entertain. No seven year old complaining that he would rather be playing soccer. No nine year old slouching behind complaining of boredom. In reverse, I wasn't having to entertain two three year olds during an hour long dance or judo class.

More importanly, no guilt, that you aren't meeting the needs of at least half of your family all of the time. (Never mind the husband and dog; one can fend for himself, the other is allowed on the sofa....you figure out which is which.)

Regrets? None at all. But having two away is teaching me a lot about how I want to go on from here. Life doesn't HAVE to end when you have kids, even twins. It's not the kids that are killing me, it's the demands and obligations we pile on ourselves after having them. F it all, I want to spend more time looking at caterpillars and less time selling coffee at the kindergarten picnic.

Not to care what others think and do my own thing, aka Ralph Waldo Emerson. Do I think I can do it? Not at first - I am a big wimp - but I am certainly going to give it a try.

I may not be able to slow down the merry-go-round, but at least I can learn to enjoy the ride.

Brad and Angelina

Like I was going to be able to stay away from this one. I feel really close to Brad and Angie, I really do. Angelina has the life I would have liked if I …well, if I had had another life. She gets to travel all over the world, lend her voice to causes she believes in, make movies, look great and have lots of kids. She makes millions, donates one third of it to charity, and looks genuinely happy. What’s not to envy? She was pregnant with her third child, the first two being adopted, while I was pregnant with my numbers three and four. I kept abreast of her in the magazines in my obstetrician’s office; I was having twins, I spent a lot of time there. I really felt we had a lot in common, kid-wise anyway.

Then she and Brad adopted number four and also popped out numbers five and six. Within two years of number three. How the heck was I going to compete with that?

I’m not judging. At least not Brad and Angelina. But I do have a bone to pick with the media coverage they’ve received since the arrival of the twins. (Have they adopted any more since I last looked? Maybe I ought to check again. Oops – there it is – rumors of an impending pregnancy.) The media idolizes Brad and Angelina, their ability to jet set around the world, live in four or five countries, make movies, support the U.N and help rebuild New Orleans, all while carting around and caring for six children, including infant twins. The pictures show them strolling through New York, through New Orleans, through Berlin, looking radiant. Angelina doesn’t even have circles under her eyes. (Although Brad does, God bless him!)

Okay. They have a lovely family and I’m sure they are fantastic parents. However, they are also attending international auctions and movie premieres - and oh yeah, President Obama’s inauguration. Despite the banner headlines that they did NOT have a nighttime nanny, SOMEBODY was watching those kids while they were out together on the red carpet. That’s nighttime enough for me. They also have at least three women - whether they call them nannies or teachers - helping them with the children during the day. Angelina – or Brad – is never out to a doctor’s appointment with all six of them in tow.

More power to them. It allows Angelina to spend individualized attention on each of the kids during the day. And probably also catch up on her beauty rest. Make movies. Generally save the world. You go girl!

But for the vast majority of us, caring for the children, ALL the children, is only one part of being a parent. For most of us, there is also a house to clean, laundry to wash, groceries to buy and food to cook. You can’t tell me that Angelina is mopping her own floors. She has a staff that also shops, cooks, and cleans up after the meals. At least I assume so. I know I would if I were in her position.

Like I said, I LIKE Brad and Angelina. They have my other life. I like them more because I can tell they work hard and put 150% into everything they do, family, careers, humanitarian efforts. And I don’t think they lead easy lives; they live in the fast lane and are just as busy, if not more so, than the rest of us. However, I DO think it is unfair for the media to keep pointing them out as models of parenthood. There’s just no basis for comparison between them and parents living in the real world.

I like the occasional picture of Brad carrying one kid on each arm - by the way, my husband can do that too - and looking absolutely exhausted. It reminds be that under all the hype - and even with all the help - parenting is an exhausting process.

But wouldn’t it be just a little less exhausting if someone put those dinner dishes away for you?