Claire is a puzzle to me. From early on, she appeared to have a will of steel. Where Devon was like a willow that could bend with the breeze, Claire will was stiff with resolve, until she broke down, usually in tears. Claire can be a very difficult child. Now one should understand that we consider ourselves "enlightened" parents. That is, co-sleeping, attachment parenting, home schooling, favoring natural consequences over punishments and rewards. But despite our enlightened modes of child rearing, we've got tough nut on our hands. Of course, one could argue that we have a tough nut because of our child rearing methods. On the other hand, I believe Claire is Claire, and her personality would out regardless ("what's bred in the bones will out in the flesh"). The question is: what's behind it, and what to do about it.
But first, let me describe her behavior.
Claire wakes up in the morning. Sometimes, she wakes happily, and plays in bed for awhile. Sometimes she wakes up angry. Maybe she's mad that Devon is in bed with her (if they've both made the pilgrimage to our bedroom). Maybe she wants Mama to come up stairs, and Papa came. "I didn't say Papa, I said Mama (grrr)". Eventually she comes down, and there is invariably a bit of tussle over breakfast. She wants cookies. She can have 1 cookie if she eats her oatmeal first. COOKIE FIRST. Argue, argue. Eventually, "OK, Oatmeal first". After the oatmeal is served, "Actually, I want skinny bread" (baguette). "But we don't have skinny bread." "Go out and get some". This may go on for 5 or 10 minutes, but eventually she'll eat her oatmeal. Or maybe half of it. "I'm done, I want my cookie now... actually I want 2 cookies".
As a parent, one sometimes banks on the forgetfulness of children, and make promises that you don't really expect to have to fulfill. This is a dangerous idea with Claire - she remembers all, and lets you know, usually opening with: "You lied Papa. You said when we walked the dog tonight, you'd carry me on your shoulders, and you didn't do it." Usually I try to honor my commitments, but with Claire, there are *so* many negotiations though out the day that it's hard to remember them all.
Besides being constantly argumentative, there are a few behaviors that have been concerning me:
1) Lying. She lies rather a lot, and sometimes pretty convincingly.
2) Hiding things. She takes my wallet, and hides it. Then sometimes lies about it.
3) Insisting on being carried.
4) Wrecking a game in progress (i.e. walking on the chess board, scattering the pieces).
5) Hurting (biting, hitting, pinching). She's not doing this as much lately.
It's easy to see that she wants attention. We talk of "filling Claire's cup", but the analogy doesn't quite work, because it's more like filling a sieve. You spend hours playing only with her, and if you then try to spend a few minutes with her brother, she'll go to pieces.
Sometimes, she will play quietly by herself, for as long as an hour. These are rare periods where Claire is low maintenance. She also enjoys playing with other children, and is very socially adept (unlike her parents).
I think there are some deep feelings of inadequacy that Claire suffers from. She thinks she's an idiot. She thinks she's clumsy (in her words: "I'm the oops girl"). She doesn't feel loved. If we loved her, says Claire, we'd always do whatever she wants.
Claire is not an idiot. In fact, she's extremely bright. She speaks like a child far older than her 5 1/2 years and is a logical thinker. She is clumsy, however. There may be some developmental condition that we could treat with occupational therapy, but it hasn't seemed serious enough to treat. My wife says she's no clumsier than other girls her age, but I disagree.
I'm not sure how to best deal with Claire. It seems the key is to make her feel loved.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Opting Out
More and more often, I find myself opting out; taking the path less trodden. One of the first fixtures of modern culture to be jettisoned was the television set. My son, at 18 months, was obsessed by the images, and it just didn't seem like a good thing for a developing brain. So when it broke, we put it on the curb and that was that. Even before then, my wife and I were skeptical of TV, and never bothered getting cable.
We haven't exactly opted out of that other American icon: the car, although I almost never drive mine anymore, having switched first to a 14 speed bike, later simplified to a single speed (although that is perhaps a conformist move here in San Francisco).
My son had a very difficult time in his first few months as school. He was seriously distressed by the experience, and we decided the best thing for him was to be at home. With a typical maker-fair DIY attitude, we figured we could do it ourselves better. And so far it is working out well. He's much better, psychologically, and isn't suffering academically (in fact, he's already a year ahead of his peers in math).
In July of 2007, I resigned from my job. I probably haven't opted out of the work world for good. I suspect I'll have to go back, if only to retain my sanity. But so far, I am enjoying the time and trying to gain a new perspective on life.
We haven't exactly opted out of that other American icon: the car, although I almost never drive mine anymore, having switched first to a 14 speed bike, later simplified to a single speed (although that is perhaps a conformist move here in San Francisco).
My son had a very difficult time in his first few months as school. He was seriously distressed by the experience, and we decided the best thing for him was to be at home. With a typical maker-fair DIY attitude, we figured we could do it ourselves better. And so far it is working out well. He's much better, psychologically, and isn't suffering academically (in fact, he's already a year ahead of his peers in math).
In July of 2007, I resigned from my job. I probably haven't opted out of the work world for good. I suspect I'll have to go back, if only to retain my sanity. But so far, I am enjoying the time and trying to gain a new perspective on life.
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