Do you have one of these kids?
to work or not to work, that is the question.
(Disclaimer: This is written primarily for married couples with children. I realize single parents have far fewer options – BUT some ideas might work for a single parent home as well.)
Okay, before I even get started – let me clarify. Throughout this post, when I say “work” I really mean “work outside the home.” I totally understand that managing a home, supporting a husband (or wife) and raising kids is work. I TOTALLY get that.
Since I’ve had kids, I’ve worked full-time, I’ve stayed at home with kids and I’ve worked part-time. I’ve been in all three positions and I won’t tell you one is better than another. I know what’s better for ME. You’re going to have to make that determination for yourself. But here’s the thing.
Decide on purpose.
Don’t just take the next step because it’s next. Don’t just assume you have no options. Make a plan to get where you want to be and don’t lose sight of your goal, whether your goal is to be at home with your kids, to complete or continue your education, to advance your career or anything else in between. Don’t get discouraged if it takes a while (maybe a few years) to get where you want to be. You can be years older and still be doing what you are doing now or you can be years older and be living your dream. Either way, you’re going to be years older. So take action and don’t give up! And more than anything – please don’t judge someone who makes a different choice.
Here’s my story:
Before I got married in 1990, I worked full time and went to school part time. In the early years of our marriage, I continued to work full time and attend college part time. My new husband was on a fellowship which prohibited him from taking a job (or he would have lost his financial aid). So at that time in our marriage, my job served as a significant source of income, paid for my schooling through tuition reimbursement and provided our health insurance. My husband, a full time student, took care of our home (and me) more than I did.
(A note on NOT GIVING UP – It took me NINE years to get my undergraduate degree and another 2 to get my MBA. I was 30 by the time I finished school. But since I was going to be 30 no matter what, I wanted to be 30 with a Master’s degree. My youngest sister will be getting her Master’s degree this year. She’s 30 years old and she worked a full-time job that paid tuition reimbursement too. She’s pregnant with her first child now. Whatever your goal – DON’T GIVE UP.)
Then, within two years, a whirlwind of changes took place in this order: I graduated from MBA school and got a “career” job, we had our first child, my husband got a full-time career position, we bought our first house (the mortgage payment was almost the same as our monthly rent) and I went into business for myself. At that time, because our lifestyle had been adjusted and supported by “college” job wages for so long, FirstHusband’s salary was enough for us to live on. My income was no longer needed for our budget at that point in time. I had also started working as a consultant/computer trainer BEFORE I quit my job and had work lined up. Since my business was service based (no inventory needed), there were very few expenses associated with operating it. So going into business for myself at that time wasn’t as risky as it sounds.
But going into business was FirstHusband’s idea. I would have NEVER had the courage to do it on my own. It was his encouragement, financial and emotional support, enthusiasm and belief in me that bolstered me as I incorporated in February of 1996. My son was just 8 months old. By the end of 1998, I was working WAY more than full time. My journal entries show conflict. Professionally and financially, I had exceeded my goals and the price for this “success” was proving to be more than I wanted to pay. I was tired and I missed my family. We wanted another baby. Unlike many of our friends and colleagues, we hadn’t spent more money when we’d made more money, so financially, we were close to paying off our debt (including student loans) and we had paid 20% of our new mortgage, removing the PMI. But with two kids (hopefully) and the expenses related to home ownership, our living expenses were going to be greater than they were in college. So we needed to make a plan for me to cut back.
If you’ve read my stuff before, you know what I did when I was faced with this problem. I bought books (used books, of course) and learned as much as I could. I sought out people who were making it work and made notes of their successful strategies. I’ll share my original resources, as well as some new ones, later on in this post.
We incorporated many of the ideas I found in my research and in the end, our plan included me continuing to work full-time until we paid off our debt (including both car payments) and refinanced our house from 30 to 15 years. We started working on our plan a year before I got pregnant and PinkGirl was almost 2 years old before we reached our goals. (DON’T GIVE UP!) It was then I stopped soliciting new clients, I ditched the clients I didn’t like (in a polite way), and cut WAY back, MANY months not working at all, some months, working anywhere from 3 to 20 hours. I took a few projects that had me working full-time for up to 6 weeks at a time, but for the most part, I was working very, Very, VERY little.
When PinkGirl started kindergarten, it was weird. Without any marketing, I got a new client and two “dormant” clients became active. (God is good!) I’m now working more, but I only go to client site while the kids are in school – and NEVER on Fridays. With advances in technology, much of my consulting work is over the internet now- even some of the training.
This is what is best and right for my family at this time in our lives.
So what’s right for you?
From all that I’ve read, one of the first questions most people ask themselves is “Can I even afford to stay home with kids?” Good question. I asked it myself.
The first thing to do is get the numbers on paper (figuratively or literally). Figure out ALL your expenses, and differentiate the expenses which result from working in the first place. One thing most people don’t take into account is that there ARE increased expenses when a “non-breadwinner” works outside the home. (I’m not going to say, “when a woman works outside the home” because I know some families who are VERY happy with a reversal of the traditional roles.)
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- Childcare is often a BIG expense resulting from working outside the home. When children are in (public) school, there’s no childcare expense – unless it is for after school care.
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- What about the price of GASOLINE?! Would you use less gas if you didn’t work outside the home? What about tolls?
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- Would you need the same number of cell phone minutes and data if you didn’t work outside the home? Could you ditch certain features of your service?
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- Does this second income throw you into a higher tax bracket?
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- Would you forgo impulse purchases because you would have more time to comparison shop? Would you have more time to shop thrift stores or garage sales? (I HATE to pay retail!)
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- Purchased drinks, snacks and meals during the workday can easily add up to some big numbers. For you AND for kids at school because making and packing lunches is just one more thing that doesn’t always get done at the end of a L O N G day? What about making lunch for the husband too? How much would that save?
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- Is your grocery bill higher when you work outside the home due to buying prepared foods and would the bill be lower if you cooked more “from scratch?”
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- Stopping for takeout or eating out at restaurants at the end of an exhausting day can be another “hidden” expense resulting from working outside the home.
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- Don’t forget the cost of work clothes, including shoes, accessories and consumables, like hosiery. What about dry cleaning? Would that expense be reduced or eliminated?
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- What about personal services, like manicures and pedicures? If you get them regularly, could you do them regularly yourself and TREAT yourself once in a while instead?
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- Would you wear as much makeup? And would you wear it every day? Not sure? How much do you use on weekends? (I’m NOT saying you should “let yourself go” – I still wear makeup. It’s got sunscreen in it.)
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- What about the hair salon you go to? (I still color my hair and get it cut regularly. I just changed salons and now pay HALF what I did before.)
Is it possible that you are actually LOSING money by working outside the home? FIND OUT!
Check out this woman’s story. She worked 40 hours a week at an hourly rate of $11. After calculating her work-related expenses, she made $315 a MONTH. That’s less than $2 an hour!
So do the numbers work out for you? Can you afford to stay home or work part-time? If the numbers don’t work out today, when would they if you made some changes now? Don’t rush it to the point that the process takes over your life, but DON’T GIVE UP.
What if you were in business for yourself? What would provide a higher hourly rate and more flexible hours? What would it take to get there? Don’t say, “But I’ll be 50 by the time I get there!” You’ll be 50 anyway. Be realistic. Ditch pessimism. For me, it took 11 years to complete my education and about 6 years of working more than full time to build a reputation and a client base. It’s NOT impossible. You may need course adjustments along the way. You may need to take time off from your plan (whatever it is) from time to time. Just don’t quit.
The biggest advice I have? MAKE a PLAN! Remember, how long it took for me to graduate. Remember how long it took for our family to reach our goal for me to work part-time. You have to plan for it. Be prepared for it as much as you can. Take a look at this 6 Month Stay-At-Home Mom Plan.
Have I made you curious? Check out these articles for more ideas:
Try this second income calculator to understand the financial impact of a second income.
Microsoft has a great Excel spreadsheet for figuring our your current expenses.
Check out their article at www.justmommies.com for ideas on how to save money.
Stay a Stay at Home Mom has an article on how to Reduce Expenses.
How to Afford to Be a Stay at Home Mom at growingslower.com
Check out another post I wrote about doing a household expense audit to save money.
And don’t forget the BOOKS! (Don’t pay full price! Buy them USED!)
Women Leaving the Workplace by Larry Burkett (priced starting at 34 cents on Amazon).
Debt Free Living by Larry Burkett (priced starting at $.95 on Amazon).
Family Financial Workbook by Larry Burkett (priced starting at $6.42 on Amazon).
Debt-Proof Living by Mary Hunt (priced starting at $2.39 on Amazon).
The Complete Cheapskate by Mary Hunt (priced starting at $.39 on Amazon).
You Can Afford to Stay Home With Your Kids: A Step-By-Step Guide for Converting Your Family from Two Incomes to One by Malia McCawley Wyckoff and Mary Snyder (priced starting at $1.55 on Amazon).
This post was inspired by reading Chapter 8 of Excellent Wife as part of a book study with Leslie at Lux Venit. I stopped in the middle of writing my post on that chapter to write this post instead. Read my response to Chapter 8 HERE. It appears I’m failing submission school. Again.
I’m also going to throw this in the mix over at Works for Me Wednesday hosted by Shannon at Rocks in My Dryer. (So Shannon, I notice “Atlas Shrugged” no longer appears on your reading list. It seems neither one of us cares about John Gault this year.)
bedtime.
“Dear God, please help Mamaw understand that real freedom is about caring and sharing with your family and who you love. Please help Pappy not be sad and help him be okay that Mamaw is going away . . .
Then the sweet talking that only happens at bedtime. She is snuggled up under the covers with the stuffed animal chosen tonight, petting a cat who somehow knows she needs him right now, in a dimly lit pink room, with soft music playing. Her night light is a 2 foot Christmas angel, dressed in white, holding a candle lit by a small bulb.
“Mom?”
“Yeh, honey?”
“I love Mamaw, but is it okay if I like Pappy more?”
“Yes, sweetie. I know you love Mamaw, but you do more stuff with Pappy, so it makes sense that you like to spend time with him more. He does lots of fun things with you.”
“I know you’re supposed to love everyone in your family, and I really do, it’s just that Pappy really understands my imagination and he’s the best drawer ever! He can draw anything! He even helps me draw hard stuff.”
“I know. I love Pappy’s drawings too.”
“Even though some of my family lives in Georgia, I still love them too. They live far away and I love them, so now Mamaw will live far away and I can still love her. But some people in my family are more fun to play with than other people. Like TeenageGirlCousin is lots of fun and CollegeBoyCousins are lots of fun to play with but that doesn’t mean that I love them more, it just means I like to play with them more, right?”
“That’s exactly true. I know you love your family and that you love Mamaw too. But I understand that some people are more fun to play with. That doesn’t mean you don’t love the people you don’t play with. I know you love your Mamaw, but I also see how much fun you have with Pappy, and he really does understand your imagination. You’re right.”
Thinking. Petting the cat.
I kiss her soft, sweet smelling cheek , say goodnight and go into the office right next to her room to wait on her to fall asleep. Minutes pass.
“Mom?”
“Yeh, honey?”
“Just checking.”
“Okay. Goodnight honey. Love you.” (yes, sweetie, I’m still here)
“Love you too.”
during. and after.
My parents were coming over to borrow FirstHusband’s truck. My dad was helping my mom by picking up a bed given to her by a friend and they needed the truck. So we knew PinkGirl would be seeing her grandmother. We knew that my mom would be leaving in 8 days and we knew we couldn’t put it off any longer.
FirstHusband and I sat down on the floor of the family room with our coffee and asked PinkGirl to come sit with us. We wanted to talk to her.
“Why?”
“Because we want to talk to you about something.”
“What?”
“Well, if you come and sit down, we’ll tell you, silly.”
She sits, looking at us suspiciously.
“You’re not in trouble, don’t worry.”
“oh.” Grin. Giggle.
Now this is all meshed together, so realize I’m pulling things from my memory and they may not be (probably won’t be) in order. And some of the conversation is missing.
“Mamaw (pause) is very unhappy (pause) and she has been unhappy for a long time, she’s just been pretending she was happy. She has decided (pause) that she doesn’t want to be married to Pappy anymore (pause) and that she wants to live in her own house. (pause) Her new house is in another state.”
Silence. Eyes watering. Now she’s in my lap. Arms around my neck, face in my shoulder.
“Why?” (oh. How I have been DREADING this question.)
(pause) then almost simultaneously, FirstHusband and I say, “We don’t know.”
“Why can’t she just stay married to Pappy? Why can’t she just tell the marriage people, ‘Yes, we’re happy?’ When the marriage people ask them, ‘Are you happy?’ they could just say ‘Yes, we’re happy.’ and then they could still be married. They could still live together.”
“Sweetie, (pause) Mamaw and Pappy are already divorced.”
Head buried in my shoulder. “I don’t want a grandmother anymore.”
“oh, honey, why not?”
“Not if she’s not married to Pappy.”
“Sweetie. She’s still your grandmother, even if she and Pappy aren’t married anymore.”
“But why does she have to move away? Does she not want to be with us anymore?”
(Second and third most dreaded questions.)
FirstHusband and I both, first talking over top of each other and then taking turns: “No, honey, this has nothing to to with us . . .” (and all the other stuff you say to kids when you want to assure them that divorce has nothing to do with them.)
“But why does she have to move away?”
I take this one, “We don’t know honey. (pause) What reasons can you think of?”
“Well, maybe she doesn’t want to live in Florida anymore.”
“That could be one reason.”
“Maybe she wants to live where it snows.” (PinkGirl saw snow for the first time in March.)
“Maybe. That could be another reason.”
Then.
“Maybe she just wants freedom.”
“Freedom? What do you mean by ‘freedom’?”
“Like, freedom to live by herself. In her own house. And not share it with anybody.”
We’re speechless.
“PinkGirl, that is VERY smart.”
Then, silence. Thinking.
FirstHusband says, “PinkGirl, we need you to know that Mom and Dad will NEVER get divorced.”
“But what if you . . . “
“Nope. Never. You know who my best friend is?”
PinkGirl points at me.
“Yep. Mom is my BEST friend.”
“And Daddy is MY best friend.” I add.
FirstHusband continues. “When you are thirty and have finished college and YOU get married . . .”
“Da ad!”
“. . . you need to make sure you are marrying your BEST friend. And you need to date for a long time so you know how he handles things when you disagree with him. Marriage isn’t like Sleeping Beauty, where you are singing and dancing in the forest with a Prince. Marriage isn’t always exciting. You need to make sure you want to be married to him even during the boring times and during the hard times. You need to date a long time and make sure you marry your best friend. ”
I jump in, “And most of all, after you get married you have to work really hard at being married. People who get divorced start having trouble being married a LONG time before they actually get divorced. Mom and Dad make sure that we fix the tiny problems when they first happen, so that the problems don’t last and last or get bigger and bigger. If you make sure you work out little problems when they happen, you can stay best friends. (pause) Do you know what Daddy told me once? He said that every day, he asks himself a question. He . . . Daddy, you tell her.”
FirstHusband says, “Every day, I ask myself, ‘What can I do to make Mommy’s life easier or better today?'”
I pop back in, “Daddy does nice things for me all the time. It’s one way he shows me he loves me. I try to do nice things for Daddy too.”
Silence again. Thinking.
“Maybe Mamaw doesn’t know that real freedom is sharing.”
We are speechless. Again.
Then I say, “PinkGirl? You just figured out something really important about life.”
Small Grin. Silence. More Thinking.
“Can I ask Mrs. FirstGradeTeacher to pray for Mamaw? To pray that she will understand that real freedom is sharing?”
“Remember when we talked to Mrs. FirstGradeTeacher last week for our conference? Well, we told her that this was going to happen and you know what she’s been doing? She’s been praying for you.”
Grin. Then recognition.
“You knew already? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, I knew you would be sad, so I didn’t want you to be sad for a long time between finding out and Mamaw moving, so I decided to tell you later, so you wouldn’t be sad for so long.”
“When is Mamaw moving away?”
“A week from tomorrow, honey.”
Tears again. “Why didn’t you tell me THEN? Now I have to be sad for a whole week!”
(Do I know my daughter or what?)
Snuggle hugs, and then I say, “PinkGirl, Mamaw and Pappy will be here in a little while, are you okay with that?”
Thinking. Then, “Well, just act normal. I don’t want to cry in front of her, so act like you told me, but that I’m not freaking out.”
“So you don’t want to talk about it with Mamaw?”
“No. If I talk about it, I’ll cry.”
Then Daddy says, “Hey, there’s something not fair here.”
PinkGirl looks confused.
But, I get it. “Mommy has been getting all the snuggles.”
PinkGirl climbs into Daddy’s lap for a huge hug.
Strategically, I ask, “Hey, would you like to invite someone over to play today?”
“YEAH!”
PinkGirl spent the rest of the afternoon playing with two friends – sisters. Happy. She went to bed without “tummy worries” as she sometimes calls it when she is upset over something.
There’s still the farewell to go through. But today? She’s doing okay.
Me? I can’t stop thinking about this.
be a champion!
I took the kids to the dentist yesterday. A pediatric dentist. Let me give you a little background. When we first took PinkGirl to the dentist, it didn’t go well. I couldn’t fit into the tiny room to be with her and, while SHE was perfectly silent, the hygienist repeatedly said, “sit still” and “open your mouth” with all the compassion and verbal expression of a rock. I couldn’t see anything and I didn’t know what was going on other than the fact that she wasn’t being still enough and that her mouth wasn’t open wide enough.
When she was done, PinkGirl came out into the waiting room, buried her face in my hip and cried silently. We never went back.
I found a pediatric dentist and, while the first visit was difficult because she had to overcome her fear, she left smiling, with a sticker, a colorful pencil, a balloon, a pink toothbrush and a bag of other dental “prizes.” We’ve been going to the pediatric dentist for a few years now. The chairs are set up in one big room, parallel to each other and there is a long bench along the wall, at the foot of the chairs, for parents to sit. So I can sit right there, in front of my kids while they have their teeth cleaned.
Yesterday, 7 year old PinkGirl bopped right in and sat down in the chair, smiling. She’s not afraid of the dentist. The hygienist approached her and, speaking very sweetly, said she needed to take pictures of her teeth. This would be the first time. They tried to do it last time, but the film physically wouldn’t fit into PinkGirl’s mouth. She whispered to me, “Is it going to hurt?” I said, “It doesn’t hurt, it’s just not very comfortable to hold the the film in your mouth.” The hygienist took her time, chatting with the other hygienists along the way, but finally, the xrays were done. I saw PinkGirl’s shoulders drop with relief that it was over. Then the hygienist said, “See? Wasn’t that EASY?”
That’s not a real question. That’s called a “counterfeit question.” What possible response was PinkGirl going to give? There was no wiggle room. Although devoid of enthusiasm, she gave the expected answer: “yes.”
Tangent. I HATE that. I HATE it when someone asks a child that question when the child has clearly just overcome a challenge. It devalues both their effort and their fear. I especially hate to hear it in swim class, when a child has FINALLY done something they’ve been working on for a while. okay. I’m done. for now.
PinkGirl comes straight to me for a hug. I know that was hard. That’s a tiny mouth for that big piece of hard cardboard. I said, “That was so brave! I know that was difficult, but you did a really good job! I’m so proud of you!” I get eye contact and another hug. She knows I know.
The hygienist starts cleaning PinkGirl’s teeth and after only a few minutes I see it. Her toes are pointing straight up, her heels are pressed down, her legs are stiff as a board, her hands are clenched, she’s breathing fast and her eyes are WIDE open. The hygienist casually asks, “You doing okay?” to which PinkGirl respectfully replies, “mmm hmmm.” The hygienist continues for about another 30 seconds and I get up, walk around to her, lean in and say, “PinkGirl will never tell you she’s uncomfortable. She will always agree with you that she’s okay.” The hygienist says okay and I wonder if she gets it.
Clearly. She does not.
I say, “I think we need a break.”
“Why?”
“PinkGirl seems a little stressed.”
Then. Head back, eyebrows in a frown. Defensive posture.
“So what do you want me to do about it? SHE says she’s fine.”
I say, “OH NO YOU DI ENT!” (to myself)
In real life, I say, “You’re going to have to trust me on this. She needs a break.”
So hygienist gets up in a huff (I really think she huffed) and walks over to the central desk to pretend she wasn’t talking about me to the other hygienists. (She stunk at it.)
The dentist comes, examines PinkGirl and they laugh. PinkGirl is happy. Relaxed. Unafraid. Then the hygienist comes back and with a “tude” in her voice, asks, “So do you want me to finish her cleaning?”
While PinkGirl pleads “no” and clings to me, I peel her off, gently set her in the chair and say, “I think we should talk a minute first.” The hygienist is standing there, hands on her hips. I’m thinking she’s slightly defensive.
I say, “It seems like you’re a little defensive. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’d like to explain what happened, if you’ll give me another chance.” (I cannot write what I was saying “to myself,” but trust me when I tell you it wasn’t anything close to this appropriate, textbook approach. I taught college level communication for 7 years, and when I’m not upset, I can apply communication theory to real life situations fairly well. When I’m not upset. Keep in mind, I had a few minutes to cool down and rehearse while the dentist examined PinkGirl.)
The hygienist’s shoulders drop the defensive posture and she says okay.
I go straight for the step 4 of my conflict resolution model (one day I’ll post it) – state the undisputed facts:
“Her toes were pointing straight up, her heels were pressed down, her legs were stiff as a board, her hands were clenched, she was breathing fast and her eyes were WIDE open. She was showing physical signs of stress. When we first came to Dr. KidDentist, PinkGirl was very afraid, but you guys turned that around. Every visit here has been positive. Until today. We can’t go backwards now.”
Without any “tude” she asks, “What do you want me to do differently?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t paid close attention in the past because PinkGirl never had any problem. I don’t what might be different today.” (thinking to myself – “I don’t know what you are doing wrong.”)
“Would you like me to get another hygienist to finish the cleaning?”
“Can you tell from her record, who might have done her cleanings in the past?”
“Sure.”
Long story short. Another hygienist finished the cleaning.
PinkGirl’s feet were limp the entire time.
And she’s confident that her mom championed her. I think she’ll remember. Especially when she’s a mom herself.
before. and after.
We’re going to have to tell her.
Soon.
We’re going to have to tell my sweet 7 year old something that will cause her to grieve. It will prompt a sadness in her that I won’t be able drive away with hugs or snuggles. I won’t be able to distract her, to make it better or fix it. It’s a loss she won’t understand. It’s a loss I don’t understand. It just is.
Thank you to Jenn at Mommy Needs Coffee for sharing this amazing post from Breed ‘Em and Weep. It was only after I selected these paragraphs to highlight that I realized Jenn had chosen some of the same words to quote:
Tomorrow we will tell the girls about a difficult loss. It is a peculiar thing to sit on the edge of your child’s bed, watching her sleep, knowing that tomorrow you will say something that will stop her heart briefly and force her through a door she would not have chosen herself. Children do not take kindly to loss, and why should they? As adults we can barely stand it, barely have the ability to comprehend the who-was-who-now-isn’t, the what-was-that-now-is-lost . . .
. . . I rock some more. I think: Loss is loss; there is rarely recovery. Recovery is a myth; change is what comes after a loss, not recovery. There is merely change . . .
. . . I would stand between them and the losses of the world if I could. This is why I cry. Because I am clever; I know well how to create secret compartments and tuck away unpleasantries as needed. It has not served me well over time, not really, but I have a talent for it.
My parent’s divorce is final as of today. My father will continue to live in the home they shared for the last 30 years, twenty minutes away. My mother is retiring and moving to a new home, which is a two day drive from us. She will be leaving on May 11th. Yes. That is Mother’s Day.
11 days from today.
FavoriteSon already knows. But, we are going to have to tell PinkGirl.
soon.
the underwear principle & ADD?
When I wrote the post entitled The Underwear Principle and now, underwear. step by step., I mentioned that I had applied this principle in other situations in my life. One of those situations involved my son.
FavoriteSon attended a Montessori pre-school from age three to five. The Montessori philosophy encourages independent work and allows the students to physically move around the classroom during the day. The “lessons” are clearly defined as separate activities with very specific, step by step instructions which follow the “left to right” and “top to bottom” concept employed by reading. The classroom was lined with low shelves on which sat rows of restaurant trays. On each tray were most, if not all the components of each lesson. It was the perfect learning environment for FavoriteSon at the time. (There’s a lot more to the Montessori philosophy, but I’ve covered what relates to the background of my situation.)
When it came time for 1st grade, we moved FavoriteSon to a traditional classroom environment at a non-denominational Christian school and it quickly became apparent that he was having a difficult time making the adjustment.
Someone, I don’t remember who, used the term “ADD.”
So I applied the The Underwear Principle:
Step 1: I didn’t approach the situation from any pre-conceived notion of how things “should” be. I opened my mind to the possibility that I DIDN’T KNOW what the problem was. I didn’t assume that my current knowledge and past experiences were enough to lead me to a conclusion, a diagnosis, a punishment strategy, or a resolution. I admitted that the “answer” might be different than anything I could think up on my own. Even worse, I had to consider the possibility that my parenting style was influencing the situation as well. (yeah. not liking that idea.)
Step 2: I tried to stay focused on the fact that my little boy wanted to learn. He wanted to behave appropriately. I understood that he was faced with an obstacle he couldn’t overcome without our help. We didn’t punish him or lecture him. We didn’t want him to feel defeated by school in the first grade.
Step 3: I analyzed what was happening. I took into account as much information as I could – the actual behaviors, the time of day, any possible cause and effect or trigger, his seating assignment – if there was ANY information available, I wanted to include it in my analysis.
The classroom layout was structured and decorated very differently from what he had experienced before, with the “lines” for each learning activity now blurred. There were no more distinct, individual tasks or lessons. Rather, unrelated information surrounded him on every wall. Not only was FavoriteSon no longer encouraged to move around the classroom during the day, but now he was actually discouraged from doing so. No more independent study or activities. Now, everyone worked on the same lesson together. When the teacher spoke to the children, she most often spoke to them as a group, rarely speaking directly to each individual child and making eye contact. The teacher reported that FavoriteSon frequently spoke out during class – but often, when he did so, it appeared as if he was talking to himself. He sometimes didn’t seem to hear her when she spoke to him. He often continued with lessons and activities after the teacher had concluded and moved on to the next lesson. Almost every morning he disrupted the class by talking to his classmates.
Step 4: I began researching the possibilities. I read books and articles, searched the internet, talked to other parents, teachers, counselors and even kids. The first thing I did was read some books on ADD.
FavoriteSon was displaying a few signs of ADD. One I noticed immediately was “hyperfocus.” If he was fully engaged in a task, he didn’t seem to notice anything around him. That’s what he was doing when he continued the lessons after the rest of the class had moved on to the next activity. I used to do that as a child when I was reading, and I never thought much of it. But FavoriteSon took it to the extreme. If he was interested and engaged in what he was doing, it was VERY difficult to get his attention. And not so much fun to get him to stop the activity. So what did this mean? Was there anything I could do about it? Back to the books.
I zeroed in on Chapter 10, Addressing the Imbalance: Non-Drug Treatments for ADD, in the book, “Running on Ritalin,” by Lawrence H. Diller, M.D. In the section entitled Behavioral Training: An Indispensable Tool, he suggested an interesting concept: (emphasis added)
Structure tasks into smaller components. For example, instead of telling a child, “Clean your room,” break the job down into stages: “First pick up your clothes off the floor and then put them in the hamper.”
I had an “Ah HA!” moment. I realized that, for my son, the instructions “Clean your room.” or “Do your homework.” were:
1. Too abstract. With so many things to do in order to accomplish that task, he was paralyzed and didn’t know where to start.
2. Too overwhelming. The job seemed bigger than it really was.
3. Too confusing. We didn’t have the same ideas with regard to what “clean” was when it came to his room. To him, it was clean. There were just toys and clothes on the floor.
(I read a LOT more and talked to a LOT more people, but it’s just too much to relay here. I’ll note some book resources at the end of this post.)
Armed with a plethora of information, it was time to turn all this knowledge and theory into action.
Step 5:
First, I wanted to rule out any physical problems, so I took FavoriteSon to the doctor for a checkup and had his hearing checked. His pediatrician didn’t discover anything unusual and his hearing was fine.
Secondly, I tried Dr. Miller’s suggestion to break things up into smaller components. I started at home. I gave short, step by step instructions for chores, homework – even bathing:
Instead of “clean up your room,” I said, “Pick up all your Rescue Heroes and stand them up on the shelves, please.” The first time, I said “put them on the shelf” and he PILED them on the shelf – but he had done what I asked. After a few times, he started to put all the water guys on one shelf, all the firefighters on another . . . my freakishly organized tendencies manifesting themselves in my son. I was so proud.
Instead of “Do your homework.” I said, “Hmm, how old are you? 6? If you do 6 math problems you can play for 12 minutes.” The first time he did his 6 problems in less than 5 minutes. After a few times of this “little bit of homework, little bit of play” he did his 6 math problems, I set the timer for 12 minutes and when the time was up, I said, “Hey bud, it’s time for 6 more problems.” He grinned and, without even looking up from the video game he was playing, he said, “Nuh uh. I finished all my math.” Little stinker had done ALL his math problems in one sitting. Because when he sat down to do them, he was only faced with the small, manageable task of completing 6 of them. (microactions, gotta love ’em) I wondered why it took him a little longer that day. I just thought the problems were harder.
Instead of “Take a shower.” I said, “Pop in the shower and get your hair wet, please.” followed by “Get some shampoo in your hands and make bubbles before you put it on your head.” He used to spend way too much time in the shower and come out dry and dirty. Now, he had a clear understanding of what to do. I just walked by the bathroom door every few minutes to remind him what he was supposed to do next. If I didn’t, he would get distracted and we would hear him singing – and not washing.
It was amazing. Everything I asked FavoriteSon to do, he did. Fast. With fairly good attitude. So, I spoke to the teacher and explained what I had learned and what we had tried at home. She began modifying the way she gave instructions and reported that she noticed immediate, significant improvement. Lessons were completed, there were less instances of hyper focus and generally, he was doing better in school.
But he was still talking in class – to himself and to the other kids. I recalled something I read in Dr. Miller’s book, Running on Ritalin:
“The family of drugs to which Ritalin belongs – the stimulants – has been both a blessing and a blight on humankind. The stimulants, which include such drugs as caffeine, cocaine and amphetamine, are so named because of their generalized effects on the body’s organ systems, particularly on the heart, blood vessels, and brain. Stimulants increase blood pressure; they make the individual less sleepy. Stimulants such as coca leaves and tobacco have been used for centuries by indigenous peoples for there energizing, pain killing or medicinal properties. Many of us can’t start the day without our hit of caffeine.”
I drink coffee every morning. At least two cups. And we’re not talking 8 ounce cups. Who’s to say FavoriteSon couldn’t have a little Coke instead of a little Ritalin? And weren’t those tiny little half size cans just perfect for this little experiment? Bingo. He had his little can of Coke during snack every morning and the talking lessened. Significantly. (He was in 1st grade, did you really think he would completely stop talking in class?)
A few years later, we had his vision checked and found out that FavoriteSon was nearsighted and needed glasses to correct his vision. Was that another problem for him that we didn’t discover at that time?
So, looking back, I’m not sure. Did FavoriteSon have mild ADD? Or did he, like his sister, have problems with his blood sugar? Or both? Did his experience in Montessori school lead to some of the problems he had adjusting to the traditional environment? Was I a bad mom all those years for not realizing that one of the reasons he seemed so disinterested looking at alligators in the lake we drive over was because he couldn’t see them?
I’m not going to spend time on the diagnosis (or blaming myself) now and I didn’t focus on it then. What I DID do was take action. I applied The Underwear Principle, step by step.
For us, it worked. And make no mistake, as nice and neat as this wrote up, we didn’t live it out so smoothly. See, it’s easy to do all the stuff we did. But to do it consistently, over and over and over, every day, without giving in?
Now, THAT. Was hard.
Some of the books I read:
Running on Ritalin by Lawrence H. Diller, M.D.
Should I Medicate My Child? by Lawrence H. Diller, M.D.
The Myth of the A.D.D. Child, 50 Ways to Improve Your Child’s Behavior and Attention Span Without Drugs, Labels or Coercion by Thomas Armstrong
Beyond Ritalin, Facts About Medication and Other Strategies for Helping Children, Adolescents, and Adults with Attention Deficit Disorders by Stephen W. Garber, Ph.D., Marianne Daniels Garber, Ph.D. and Robyn Freedman Spizman.
pk baptism
My sister-in-law sent me this the other day.
The second kid is the preacher’s kid. Gotta love him. Especially in church.
Yes.
That was a cannonball.
ella, aqua & ralph
PinkGirl caught my germ. And she was NOT happy about it. She caught it on Wednesday. Wednesday is play rehearsal day. Wednesday is the day she and two of her friends (sisters) play and sing in the car all the way to rehearsal – and back. Wednesday is usually a REALLY fun day.
Except this week PinkGirl had a fever of 101.2 and a really bad headache. She went to the school office at 2:00 p.m. and they called me on my cell to tell me. I was in the car pool line to pick up one of the play rehearsal friends who goes to another school. I had to call the friend’s dad and tell him, which threw a major monkey wrench in his afternoon because he then had to drop everything and come to school to pick up his girls and take them to play rehearsal because I couldn’t. I had to take care of PinkGirl (and try to keep the friends from catching the germ).
When I got to PinkGirl’s school, she immediately began crying when she saw me. She knew.
“Can you just give me medicine and let me go anyway?”
“I don’t get to ride and play with FRIEND1 and FRIEND2!”
“But my head is only hurting, I can still sing and dance!”
“I’m going to miss EVERYTHING!”
“Please! Mom!”
and many more tearful pleas as I continued to wipe her tears and say, “I’m sorry honey.” over and over again.
We got her brother out of school a little early and headed home. I had already made an appointment with her doctor for first thing Thursday morning (just a few hours before mine). We spent the rest of the evening curled up in a chair together, with breaks to take FavoriteSon to youth group and back.
Thursday morning, I scooped her up at the last minute, wrapped in a blanket and tucked her into the pre-warmed van to take her brother to school and then her to see the doctor. Everything went like clockwork until we got into the waiting room. We were the second patient to be seen and were sitting comfortably – until I looked at PinkGirl. I had just enough time to push her jacket in front of her before she ralphed. Only the jacket got it. She hadn’t eaten anything, but she did drink some water in the car. I walked her in the bathroom, and after a few minutes, she seemed stable, I washed out the jacket, and asked for a bucket on the way back to the waiting room. I ran out to the car and switched out the wet jacket with another one (it’s a minivan, there’s an entire wardrobe in there). I didn’t even have time to sit down before she lost it again. I tried to convince her:
“Honey, let’s get a room by ourselves for some privacy.”
“NO!”
“Come on, sweetie. I”ll carry you.”
“NO! I’m not going!”
She was not going to move in case she ralphed again. I ran back to the bathroom for wet paper towels and to ask for a room on the way. They were smart and called us in. She laid down on the examining table, shivering, so I spent the few minutes waiting on the doctor by wrapping her in my jacket and putting my arms around her to keep her warm. She had a pretty good fever going on.
The doctor came in and examined her while I told him what I’m just getting over. He says it’s a virus, but he wants to give her an antibiotic to prevent any secondary infection. And she should have a shot for nausea to prevent more vomiting.
Shot.
Tears. Pleading. More Tears.
This is the same girl who, twice before, when she was 4 and 5 years old – actually CHOSE the shot because she didn’t want to vomit. I try to talk to her, but she’s starting to freak out. I tell the doctor I’m going to hold off and if she vomits again, we’ll be back. PinkGirl immediately calms down.
So we left. She buckled up in the middle of the backseat and laid down with a pillow and a blanket (it’s a mini-van, there’s an entire linen closet in there). We drop off her prescription, I pick up some breakfast at McDonalds, and with a few minutes to kill before the prescription is ready, I stop at Target to buy movies. I left her in the van alone for the first time EVER. I locked her in and I actually ran into Target, grabbed 4 movies, paid for them and got back to the van in less than 8 minutes. She had fallen asleep. I picked up her prescription and drove to my doctor’s appointment.
In the parking lot at my doctor’s office, I wake her up and she immediately ralphs again. Perfectly calm, she says, “I want the shot.” I take a risk and give her the anti-biotic and a dose of ibuprofen with pseudoephedrine (it’s a mini-van, there’s an entire pharmacy in there). I dump a plastic container and hand it to her, just in case (it’s a mini-van, I had my choice of plastic containers – it’s like a dishwasher on wheels). I call my doctor from the parking lot to cancel my doctor’s appointment, drive back to HER doctor, get the shot, drive home.
I get her tucked in on the couch and put Ella Enchanted (movie #1) in the DVD player. We get to Ella’s rendition of “Somebody to Love” and I peek. Sound asleep. I pause Ella, mid performance and PinkGirl and I crash for two hours.
I have to wake her again to pick up her brother from track practice. We drive through Sonny’s BBQ for take out and, although she still has a fever, she EATS! We go home and finish watching Ella Enchanted, follow-up with a movie-long snuggle while watching Aquamarine (movie #2) and then more medicine and off to bed.
Today is Friday and PinkGirl woke up with a fever of only 99 degrees! Just in time to be better for daddy, who’s been on a business trip since Monday morning. He’ll be home tonight. I’m keeping her home today even though the medicine makes her seem completely fine. We are honoring the school rule of not brining a child to school within 24 hours of a fever.
Right now, two red blankets are on the floor (red carpet), the costumes are prepped and the fashion show is about to begin.
Gotta go.
freedom to be different
I’ve been reading Grace Based Parenting by Dr. Tim Kimmel. Chapter 7, The Freedom to Be Different really resonated with me. Check out my latest post over at Pragmatic Communion. It’s about giving my daughter the “freedom to be different.”
Here’s a bit of Dr. Kimmel to ponder:
“The primary way to give our children grace is to offer it in place of our selfish preferences. They receive grace when we choose not to commit sins against their heart when our human nature would suggest that it would be okay to do so. In fact, the greatest grace that children receive is when we can even see the sins we are inclined to commit against their hearts followed by our willingness to go against our selfish urges. So much grace is stolen in the heat of the moment by our selfishness. Kids want things, need things, say things or do things that either bother us, embarrass us, or hurt us. But sometimes the reason we are hurt is because we might be exercising immaturity, insecurity or indifference. We take things that are huge to children and trivialize them, or we take small issues and magnify them out of proportion.”
“If you have a different child and remind her about the sacrifice you’ve made to accommodate her quirks, it is not in a context of grace.”
