Tag: parenting

jabberwockypie:

mswaterbears:

thatadhdfeel:

Not Yelling At Children is Better Than Yelling At Children, More At 11

“No shit” studies like this get funded because a lot of people still believe that “strict parenting” (i.e. screaming at your kid, using physical punishment) will “fix” their kids’ ADHD symptoms. I only did child therapy for about a year and a huge contributing factor to my burnout was watching parent after parent, no matter how well intentioned, fall into the socially ingrained trap of blaming their kids’ behavior on “lack of respect” or “laziness” or “manipulation.” They had to be constantly reminded that their children’s symptoms were not actually about them. Every time they forgot, they’d slip back into the same parenting strategies that, frankly, landed their family in crisis stabilization therapy in the first place.

The thing is, the success of any given parenting strategy can only be seen over time. Like any behavior modification, you’ll only get valid results if you’re consistent. If you’re calm with a kid most of the time but every now and then you beat them, being calm is going to seem like it “doesn’t work” because your kid knows the other shoe could drop at any second. They’re still in fight-or-flight mode waiting to see what you’ll do next, and it’s almost impossible to make well-reasoned choices when your amygdala is in charge. It can take a long damn time to build a communication pattern in which your kid trusts that you’ll stay calm. Most parents give it about a week and then declare that their kid must just be different or worse than other kids, or that the therapist/caseworker doesn’t understand what its really like.

Studies like this are so important, because it gives us something to point to when parents feel unsure of what to do with a child whose moods and needs aren’t easy for them to understand. I guarantee that for every study like this saying what “we all know,” these parents are exposed to 50 idiots saying they just need to whip some respect into their kids.

Not to mention that a) C-PTSD makes ADHD symptoms worse and b) a lot of people with ADHD also HAVE C-PTSD, because people were abusive and blamed them for being “lazy”/”stupid”/etc

Secrets Of A Maya Supermom: What Parenting Books Don’t Tell You

kawuli:

When you look around the world and throughout human history, the Western style of parenting is WEIRD. We are outliers. In
many instances, what we think is “necessary” or “critical” for
childhood is actually not present in any other cultures around the world
or throughout time.

Perhaps
most striking is how Western society segregates children from adults.
We have created two worlds: the kid world and the adult world. And we go
through great pains to keep them apart. […] But in many indigenous cultures,
children are immersed in the adult world early on, and they acquire
great skills from the experience. They learn to socialize, to do
household chores, cook food and master a family’s business, Lancy
writes.

Of course, just because a practice is ancient, “natural” or universal
doesn’t mean it’s necessarily better, especially given that Western kids
eventually have to live — and hopefully succeed — in a WEIRD society.
But widening the parenting lens, even just a smidgen, has a practical
purpose: It gives parents options.

One of the things I notice about having spent so much time out of the country is that a lot of the parenting discourse here just… makes no sense to me. Of course you should breastfeed whenever and wherever you damn well please? Of course whatever adult is around should take care of the kid who scraped her knee? Of course you shouldn’t expect mothers to stay home and take care of babies by themselves? Of course you should expect kids to run around in packs and play in the dirt more-or-less unsupervised? And yes, it’s more complicated in the US where you don’t usually have networks of friends and family living in close proximity, but maybe we should think about how we could make that happen more often? Or get to know some neighbors? And actually it is safer for kids here than it used to be, and safer than in a whole lot of other places, and while no, we shouldn’t be reckless or fatalistic about it, sometimes shit happens. There’s no way to 100% protect a kid from the whole world, and that shouldn’t even be the goal.

Anyway, one reason i don’t want kids is that I’ve internalized too many “poor country” parenting philosophies so while I wouldn’t let my 2-year-old play with machetes, I would totally get sent to jail for letting a 6-year-old walk to the store by herself because why on earth would that be a problem?

Secrets Of A Maya Supermom: What Parenting Books Don’t Tell You

“When I was about 20 years old, I met an old pastor’s wife who told me that when she was young and had her first child, she didn’t believe in striking children, although spanking kids with a switch pulled from a tree was standard punishment at the time. But one day, when her son was four or five, he did something that she felt warranted a spanking–the first in his life. She told him that he would have to go outside himself and find a switch for her to hit him with.

The boy was gone a long time. And when he came back in, he was crying. He said to her, “Mama, I couldn’t find a switch, but here’s a rock that you can throw at me.”

All of a sudden the mother understood how the situation felt from the child’s point of view: that if my mother wants to hurt me, then it makes no difference what she does it with; she might as well do it with a stone.

And the mother took the boy into her lap and they both cried. Then she laid the rock on a shelf in the kitchen to remind herself forever: never violence. And that is something I think everyone should keep in mind. Because if violence begins in the nursery one can raise children into violence.”

Astrid Lindgren, author of Pippi Longstocking, 1978 Peace Prize Acceptance Speech  (via i-contain-multitudes)

jhaernyl:

fallingivy:

At the daycare we have a kid with two sisters from different dads. One of the other kids asked why this girl’s sister has a different last name from her, and I explained that she has a different dad, so they have different last names. That happens, sometimes. The 7 year-old girl who asked me this question thought about this and asked if the mom was married to both dads and how did that work. 

I explained that she was either married to each dad one after the other, or she was married to one after having a kid with the other earlier, or she was never married to either dad, or etc. Like my sister, I explained, who is unmarried and has never been married but has a kid. This made the girl stare in shock. 

“I thought you had to be married to get kids,” she said, like her world was turned upside down.

“That’s optional,” I explained loosely. “You don’t need to be married or even dating to have kids with someone. My sister has a kid and is an accountant and has no plans to get married as of yet.”

The girl sat there for a moment. “Well, then why do people even get married?” she demanded, “Are you telling me we don’t even need boys at all? I can just have all the kids I want and never have to marry a boy???”

“Yep,” I said, blandly, skipping over pages and pages of in-depth discussion of why marriage exists, why ‘boys’ and ‘girls’ are too simplistic to explain body parts, and all the awkwardness of intercourse and reproduction with just one word.

The girl leapt from her seat and raced over to inform the other girls about her new discovery. I heard her yelling: “No marrying! We can have kids without getting married! WE DON’T NEED HUSBANDS. We can just have babies!”

“What if we want babies?” asked one of the boys, distressed.

“Who CARES what you want??” the girls yelled.

I spent a lot of time trying not to laugh hysterically at my desk.

@the-last-hair-bender
@shetanshadowwolf

flamethrowing-hurdy-gurdy:

benignmilitancy:

yardsards:

I hate it when people say technology is taking away kids’ childhoods
If anything, it’s actually giving kids more of an opportunity to let their imagination out

A lot of times when I let kids play on my phone, they go for the drawing app.
I watched a girl on the bus write a silly poem about her friends and then laugh as she made Siri read it
I hear children say to their friends “hey, FaceTime me later” because they still want to talk face to face even when they’re far away.
I see kids sitting, who would feel lonely and ignored if it weren’t for the fact that they’re texting their friends who are far away.
Children still climb trees. They might just take a selfie from the top to show off how high they’ve gotten.
They can immediately read the next book of their favorite series on their Kindles.
Most kids would still be up for a game of cops and robbers. Or maybe they’d google rules to another game they haven’t played yet.
When children wonder why the sky is blue, they don’t get an exasperated “I don’t know” from tired adults. They can go on Wikipedia and read about light waves and our atmosphere.
They show off the elaborate buildings they created on Minecraft.

Technology isn’t ruining childhoods, it’s enhancing them.

Love this post so much to counteract much of the pessimism surrounding technology and kids. It’s not stealing kids’ innocence, just another means of expressing it. And so often do I hear that all kids do these days is “play on their phones” instead of doing other things, it’s starting to sound like a broken record. >.>

Heck, it reminds me of the first time our family got a computer; sure, I was on it all the time, but it afforded me a chance to talk more often with my best friend at the time. It filled in that boredom that would have otherwise been filled with TV and made me curious about the world.

Whenever an adult starts complaining about technology taking away kids’ childhoods they should stop and consider what they’re doing, as an adult, to keep those childhoods safe. Or if they’re maybe not actually obstructing their kids in the pursuit of their needs.

‘Get off the computer’ and ‘turn off your phone’ but no real understanding of what the kids are getting from technology that their adults fail to provide for them.

Like, privacy from monitoring by their parents. Like interaction with their peers. Like a limitless world where they can make their own space without being fenced in, chastised, restricted, criticised. Like finding new knowledge. Like fun. Like creativity.

It’s an adult guardian’s responsibility to try to understand that world instead of blaming it for being more welcoming to their kid than they are.

vitaliciouscreations:

marlynnofmany:

kelincihutan:

caffeinewitchcraft:

writing-prompt-s:

Couples receive “parent points”, which they can use to purchase their children. Most parents wait for a few thousand, but you chose to buy the cheaper, 100 point child.

Shane knows what it’s like to be a 100 point child. He knows how it feels to see potential parents–potential families–come through the facilities doors, faces bright with excitement. He knows how it feels to see them reading the little plaques on the nursery doors, scanning the lists there for the right bits of knowledge and etiquette and grace that they want their baby to have.

He knows how it feels to see their faces pinch outside the window before they hurry to the next room.

Shane grew up in a 100 point nursery. They had torn, ratty, books and no teachers, and when snack time came, the tray was pushed through a slat in the door. They were called “unruly” and “damaged” and “stupid.” A lot of the other kids threw tantrums and broke furniture (and sometimes other kids). A lot of the other kids went quiet after the first few years when they realized they’d never be adopted until they were old enough (or pretty enough) to be useful. A lot of the kids cried and didn’t stop until they got taken away or were aged out.

Shane’s grown up a lot since aging out. He put himself through school, got himself a job, shed his 100 points like the torn clothes he’d left the facility in. He’s powerful now, successful, and he’s grown out of the twisted nose, big ears, and gap-toothed smile that had made him one of the less attractive 100 point babies. Or maybe he’s grown into them. Who’s to say?

It’s taken him a long time to get enough Parent Points to do what he wants. Being a man is, for once, somewhat hindering as most of society equates “parental” with “maternal.” He’s lost count of how many social workers have politely hid expressions of surprise when he told them he wanted to adopt stag, that he’s willing to take the classes, get the grades, make the oaths to get even one Parent Point.

Keep reading

Pete and Jane Carson were poor, so poor, and lived so far out away from town that they had trouble managing to earn many Parent Points.  The points were awarded very strictly, and since their truck was…third-hand at least, well, they didn’t always make it everywhere exactly on time.

But they were so in love, and so enthusiastic about it, that as soon as they managed to reach that magical hundredth point, they practically ran to the Ward Building.

The lady took down their information and showed them all the brochures and read them all the disclaimers with a distinct air of disdain.  It was obvious she thought no one had any business taking in any child worth less than a thousand points.  Still, there was nothing to stop them from doing it–at least, nothing she could legally get away with–so she showed them to the hundred-point children.

It was agony making a choice.  There were so many children there, and they were all so obviously in need of help.  But one boy, the oldest and he was probably about seven, pointed them to a tiny child who’d been very sick lately and explained that the heat in the room didn’t work very well, and so when the little ones got sick, their tiny bodies sometimes couldn’t work hard enough to keep them warm and get them better.  There was a look in his eyes that said sometimes there had been sick children who’d been eventually taken away and hadn’t been brought back.

So they took the sick child, whose name was Jakob, and gave him a home in their big, rickety farmhouse so far away from town, but they agreed.  “That’s our next child.”

Keep reading

Two of them!

It was so much harder for single people to gain Parent Points. Lisbeth had sat in the same room as dozens of happy couples; had taken the same tests and had received the same courses, and yet had earned less than half the points that they did. Every time she first introduced herself to an instructor, they asked when her significant other would be coming, and wrinkled their nose at her when she made it clear to them that she was alone. It seemed like every time the topic of Parent Points were brought up, someone was telling her to wait. Wait until she found a husband or wife, wait until she was older and wiser.

Keep reading

kelincihutan:

caffeinewitchcraft:

writing-prompt-s:

Couples receive “parent points”, which they can use to purchase their children. Most parents wait for a few thousand, but you chose to buy the cheaper, 100 point child.

Shane knows what it’s like to be a 100 point child. He knows how it feels to see potential parents–potential families–come through the facilities doors, faces bright with excitement. He knows how it feels to see them reading the little plaques on the nursery doors, scanning the lists there for the right bits of knowledge and etiquette and grace that they want their baby to have.

He knows how it feels to see their faces pinch outside the window before they hurry to the next room.

Shane grew up in a 100 point nursery. They had torn, ratty, books and no teachers, and when snack time came, the tray was pushed through a slat in the door. They were called “unruly” and “damaged” and “stupid.” A lot of the other kids threw tantrums and broke furniture (and sometimes other kids). A lot of the other kids went quiet after the first few years when they realized they’d never be adopted until they were old enough (or pretty enough) to be useful. A lot of the kids cried and didn’t stop until they got taken away or were aged out.

Shane’s grown up a lot since aging out. He put himself through school, got himself a job, shed his 100 points like the torn clothes he’d left the facility in. He’s powerful now, successful, and he’s grown out of the twisted nose, big ears, and gap-toothed smile that had made him one of the less attractive 100 point babies. Or maybe he’s grown into them. Who’s to say?

It’s taken him a long time to get enough Parent Points to do what he wants. Being a man is, for once, somewhat hindering as most of society equates “parental” with “maternal.” He’s lost count of how many social workers have politely hid expressions of surprise when he told them he wanted to adopt stag, that he’s willing to take the classes, get the grades, make the oaths to get even one Parent Point.

Keep reading

Pete and Jane Carson were poor, so poor, and lived so far out away from town that they had trouble managing to earn many Parent Points.  The points were awarded very strictly, and since their truck was…third-hand at least, well, they didn’t always make it everywhere exactly on time.

But they were so in love, and so enthusiastic about it, that as soon as they managed to reach that magical hundredth point, they practically ran to the Ward Building.

The lady took down their information and showed them all the brochures and read them all the disclaimers with a distinct air of disdain.  It was obvious she thought no one had any business taking in any child worth less than a thousand points.  Still, there was nothing to stop them from doing it–at least, nothing she could legally get away with–so she showed them to the hundred-point children.

It was agony making a choice.  There were so many children there, and they were all so obviously in need of help.  But one boy, the oldest and he was probably about seven, pointed them to a tiny child who’d been very sick lately and explained that the heat in the room didn’t work very well, and so when the little ones got sick, their tiny bodies sometimes couldn’t work hard enough to keep them warm and get them better.  There was a look in his eyes that said sometimes there had been sick children who’d been eventually taken away and hadn’t been brought back.

So they took the sick child, whose name was Jakob, and gave him a home in their big, rickety farmhouse so far away from town, but they agreed.  “That’s our next child.”

Keep reading