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Emotions

When Kids Get Creative

By

girl craft
I was browsing other parenting blogs and I just found this post by Daring Young Mom hilarious. She was sharing an experience with her daughter wherein she withheld TV privileges for a while. Instead of throwing a temper tantrum, her daughter put her creative juices to work and went on to make a TV of her own out of crayon and paper! Imagine that!

It made me think of the times when the creativity of children come out because of “adverse” situations. I remember one time when my sister and I were kids and we wanted to have a Power Wheel. Yeah I know this was normally for boys but they looked like a lot of fun. Anyway, our parents would not buy us one no matter how much we asked and begged. Our solution? We got this tiny coffee table in our living room, removed everything on top of it, and turned it upside down. We both got in and took turns driving our “home made Power Wheel!” Lucky for us the coffee table was light enough to push around.

Sometimes, I think that not giving everything our children ask for is a good thing. Just because they want something does not mean that they should have it. They may be disappointed at first but with their resiliency, I am sure that their creativity would surface and they would come up with something that would make them quite content.

How about you, any “creative” stories that you might want to share?

Originally posted on January 24, 2008 @ 10:18 am

Dealing With Mood Swings

By

sulking child
Adults have them – why should children be exempt? Observing children these days, it seems to me, though, that they are more prone to having mood swings than in the past. Or maybe it is merely dependent on the personality of each individual child.

I am sure you have an idea of what I am talking about. For example, your kid would be cheerful and playful in the morning and then suddenly, for no apparent reason, his mood would change. He’d become gloomy and sulky. Of course, I am not talking about instances wherein there is a cause for the change in mood. Now that is understandable. Yet how about those instances wherein you cannot find a reason? Do you think it is something serious?

I believe that in these cases, somehow, there is an underlying reason – just like with us adults. Perhaps that reason is not immediately apparent but if you take the time to find it out, it will soon surface and you can deal with it.

The question then is how should a parent deal with these mood swings? I find this the most effective strategy – ride it out. In the beginning, my initial reaction was to argue and reason. I soon found out that, more often than not, this would only aggravate matters. It is better to wait till he gets over his bad mood and then have a talk. This way, he is feeling better and would be more likely to listen to reason.

Much like adults, don’t you think?

Originally posted on January 8, 2008 @ 7:54 am

My New Years Resolution As A Mom

By

xx

Happy New Year!!!

Its that time of year again to think of one’s New Year’s Resolutions, and though I have a small list of personal changes I’d like to make, the one resolution I have as a parent, would be something I learned from my favourite parenting advisor, Ellen Braun and her Raising Small Souls website.

It basically tackles the subject of REACTING vs REFLECTING which I had honestly never thought of before, and when I read it, I was struck by its truth. I swear, parents should really have a school where they can learn how to do things right. In the 5 years I’ve been a parent, I hate to admit it, but I’ve made many, many mistakes. Ok, its not exactly a crime as we’re all allowed to make mistakes, but somehow it just matters so much more when it comes to your kids and the consequences which could be carried by them for the rest of their lives.

So this year my goal is to be a Mom who REFLECTS rather than REACTS. No small task, Ellen likens to learning a new language – tough, but so worth it when you finally become fluent. Also, as rightly commented on my another Mom, we should all practice this on our husbands as well! Read on to see how Ellen explains how important this is.

When a child hears his emotions reflected back to him, he is able to accept, trust, and respect his own feelings. That is the essence of confidence. When a child has the ability to base ideas and decisions upon his thoughts and feelings, he is self-aware and possesses a healthy level of self-esteem.

Imagine with me for a moment that you have just arrived home from a party.

�Honey, I�m so hungry, do we have anything good to eat?� you ask your spouse.

�Hungry!� Spouse exclaims, �How could you possibly be hungry; you ate tons of ee at the party!�

Or, how about this scenario:

�Sweetheart,� you begin as you turn towards your spouse to express yourself, �I�m really very hot. Would you lower the thermostat please?�

�Hot!� Spouse practically shouts, �I�ll tell you what hot is- go outside in the sun, then you�ll feel hot! When you come back inside, you�ll realize that it�s very comfortable in here.�

��

Well, how did you feel about that? Did you feel understood? Did you feel that your feelings had been taken into account in a meaningful way? Or, were you left wondering whether your emotions were actually real? Perhaps you were not actually hungry? Could it be that the heat was simply a figment of your imagination? Or, did you wonder whether your spouse could begin to understand you after all?

��

Imagine traveling in the mini-van with your daughter. �I�m hungry!� she whines during a long stretch of the highway.

�You are not hungry, darling,� You respond to your daughter, �you just ate dinner.�

Daughter has two choices right now:

Choice #1: Believe Parent; if my parent says that I�m not hungry, then that must be the fact. The rumbling in my belly must be my imagination. Unconsciously, the thought process will travel even further: My feelings may not be real. I�ve got to check with my parents to see if my feelings are truly accurate. I am not capable of trusting my own intuition and emotions.

Choice #2: Not believe Parent; if my parent says that I�m not hungry, that means he/she does not know what he is talking about! My own feelings will guide me to knowledge of the truth. Unconsciously, the thought process will travel down a road that looks like this: My parent does not understand me at all. He/she has no idea who I am or what I am feeling.

��

I recall speaking with two different friends recently on a day that I was suffering from stomach problems.

Friend A said to me, �Why don�t you try this pill or that pill?�

Friend B empathized with, �Oh, Ellen, it�s so hard to get anything done when your stomach is out of sorts� it�s as though the whole you is out of sorts, but your mind is working fine and you want to do things, you just feel like you�re weighed down.�

Obviously, Friend A meant well. However, it was Friend B who reflected my feelings that made me feel comforted.

��

Like learning a new language, switching gears from reacting to your children�s expressions to the new method of reflecting their inner feelings, will take a bit of time. In the beginning, you may feel awkward with this manner of conversation, yet over time, it will become a natural and habitual way of response.

[tags]New Years Resolutions, parenting tips, parenting advice[/tags]

Originally posted on December 31, 2006 @ 12:40 pm

Somebody Isnt A Mother

By

ss

Much as I enjoy my blogging, I have to admit that sometimes it gets tiresome to see my own thoughts on this blog every single day. Which is the reason why I like to spare myself (and whoever else reads this) of me-itis ramblings by posting little bits and bobs, such as the previous post, and this one below.

It wasnt written by me, but its so utterly familiar in my life as a parent, that I feel I could have written it too. Well, some of it at least.

Somebody said it takes about six weeks to get back to normal after you’ve had a baby … somebody doesn’t know that once you’re a mother, “normal” is history.

Somebody said you learn how to be a mother by instinct, somebody never took a three-year-old shopping.

Somebody said being a mother is boring … somebody never rode in a car driven by a teenager with a driver’s permit.

Somebody said if you’re a “good” mother, your child will “turn out good”… somebody thinks a child comes with directions and a guarantee.

Somebody said “good” mothers never raise their voices …somebody never came out the back door just in time to see her child hit a golf ball through the
neighbor’s kitchen window.

Somebody said you don’t need an education to be a mother…. somebody never helped a fourth grader with his math.

Somebody said you can’t love the second child as much as you love the first … somebody doesn’t have two children.

Somebody said a mother can find all the answers to her child-rearing questions in the books….somebody never had a child stuff beans up his nose or in his ears.

Somebody said the hardest part of being a mother is labor and delivery….somebody never watched her “baby” get on the bus for the first day of
kindergarten or on a plane headed for military “boot camp.”

Somebody said a mother can do her job with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back….somebody never organized seven giggling Brownies
to sell cookies.

Somebody said a mother can stop worrying after her child gets married….somebody doesn’t know that marriage adds a new son or daughter-in-law to a mother’s heartstrings.

Somebody said a mother’s job is done when her last child leaves home….somebody never had grandchildren.

Somebody said your mother knows you love her, so you don’t need to tell her…. somebody isn’t a mother.

Originally posted on March 10, 2007 @ 9:44 pm

Sad News For The Nanny

By

ss

This morning, when I got back home from dropping N at kindergarten, I came home to find Jennyfer, our nanny, suddenly scream out and start weeping.

We rushed to her, only to find that she had received word from her sister, that her baby neice had died today. Tragic and sad, but whats worse is that the same sister had a four-year old who also passed away a few years ago, and the most likely reason for both deaths was poverty.

When I spoke to Jennyfer and asked her what had brought this tragedy about, she simply said that her sister and family simply did not have enough money to see a doctor, to buy medicine, and in recent weeks did not even have enough for rice.

I was mortified, asking her why didn’t she ask us for help? That of course we would help her family if only she has told us. In between sobs she just looked shyly at me, obviously grief-stricken and even a little ashamed.

Jennyfer’s family, you see, live in the province of Leyte in the Philippines, and she supports her 9 siblings and parents, being the only one with a job at 22 years of age. Jobs and affordable or free medical help are rare in the area, and sadly, many children and infants die an early death.

On the upside, infant mortality rates in the Philippines have declined a little, by around 2% since 2003 – with 22.81 deaths for every 1,000 births. Nevertheless, it was with a heavy heart that I gave her some money to send back to her sister this morning, money for the funeral and some rice, wishing that we could have somehow helped save this child’s life.

Originally posted on March 14, 2007 @ 8:26 am

First Time For Everything

By

kk

Like they say, theres a first time for everything, and it was the first time for me to have one one of my children be admitted to hospital. We were lucky, I suppose, as the pediatric floor was initally full, and Dr.J told us we’d have to head for the emergency room until a bed became vacant. A few minutes before we left the house, however, she texted me to say to head straight for the admissions desk, as a room was now available. I was about as chuffed as one could be when their child is about to be admitted to hospital. Relieved that we wouldnt be spending a good part of the night at the emergency room, but still feeling pretty anxious.

The pediatric ward was the same as all the other hospital floors, except for colourful animal signs as the room numbers (ours was a panda), and a cheery-looking playroom which unfortunately had a forbidding sign taped on the door saying “closed for general cleaning”. Hurumph. My sister helped us check in and get sorted in the room (hubby is abroad – dang! of all times when I could do with husbandly support), and within minutes the resident doctor and some nurses came in to see my little O.

Weak as ever, O was a dream when they put in the i.v. drip, with hardly any complaining except for a small cry when the needle went in (this impressed the doctors who were expecting the usual struggle at this particular floor). Within minutes he was fast asleep. Probably from the sheer exhaustion of the day, poor thing. I was pretty beat myself, so after a quick trip to the basement cafeteria for some supplies, I watched American Idol until I fell asleep only to be awoken by a nurse two hours later.

[tags]sick kids, hospital, pediatric ward[/tags]

Originally posted on January 18, 2007 @ 10:48 am

A Christmas Story

By

dd

Here is a wonderful Christmas Story on the meaning of Christmas from the eyes of one little girl and her family.

A very Christmas to you and your families!!

A Christmas Story

It was the year 1968. That year was an exceptionally hard year in every way. Pop was laid off due to too much snow in the woods. He was a logger. Roads were impassable and snow lay thick in the mountains. We knew there would be no Christmas. Mom had told us there simply was no money. Times were tough. We didn’t have money even for our very basic needs.

That was the year the guy from the fire department brought my sick baby brother some medicine in his four wheel drive. That was the year the snow piled up relentlessly night and day. The wind blew it under the window sills. We slept each night downstairs by the fireplace
trying to stay warm. The entire house was closed off by blankets in doorways and masking tape on all the windows. Rugs were shoved under loose fitting doors so not a breath of cold air could get in.

That was also the year that food was scarce for man and beast. Earlier in the fall, the cold and scarcity of food drove the bear into our orchard to eat any remaining plums and apples that we hadn’t canned or processed in some way. We trapped those bears, tanned their hides to use for rugs, and ate the meat to fill our bellies. Christmas dinner that year was going to be Bear Roast. There were nine of us kids, and food was scarce.

The fires were kept burning night and day. My baby brothers were set on the lids to the warming ovens above the kitchen stove and held there while they dangled there feet over the old Home Comfort. Its cheery warmth not only heated our kitchen, but it also kept their tiny
toes warm.

That was also the winter that mom ran out of formula for the baby. Not knowing what to do, we prayed that God would send our baby formula. He was allergic to milk and too young to ss. That day a man handed
mom an envelope of gospel tracts. There hidden in the tracts was a five dollar bill. God had answered our prayers. The baby would now get his formula.

I had only one wish that Christmas. I had seen a beautiful doll bed in the department store window. I wanted it so badly, but I knew it was way too much to ask. I could dream though, and dream I did. Mom knew how badly I yearned for a doll bed, so one day shortly before
Christmas she set about to make me that coveted gift. Taking two cardboard boxes she turned the one upside down and set the other on top. She fastened them to each other then lined them with fabric and made a little pleated skirt to cover the cardboard box underneath. She knew that on Christmas morning I would be the happiest child for miles around.

The air was filled with secrecy that Christmas, as we all tried to make each other gifts. Buttons were strung onto strings, small jars were filled with filberts to rattle at the babies, nuts piled high behind the stove in gunny sacks were cracked and sugared for treats. Once again Bear meat was on the dinner menu. But once again God had other plans.

The day before Christmas a big red truck lumbered down the lane to our house. It was the Fire Chief! Whatever was happening? Why had they come? They had chained up the vehicle to get up the snowy roads. Maybe they were bringing medicine. One year the fire department brought aspirin to all the babies on the mountain because families couldn’t get into town. But no! Wait! There were other men with him. We watched as the firemen jumped down and began unloading gifts from the truck. They piled them on to the front porch while we watched from the window. There were lots of boxes. The excitement was more than we
could bear. Beautifully wrapped gifts with sparkly bows were lined up on the porch.

Mom opened the front door to ask what this was all about. A fireman filled her arms with a box overflowing with food. “Merry Christmas,” he called over his shoulder as he stomped back through the snow for more things. My sisters and I were squealing and excitedly running from window to window in the hopes of seeing better. The babies peeked out from behind mom’s skirt.

Finally the last box was unloaded and our porch was filled with food and gifts. Everything we needed for a complete Christmas dinner was brought by that fire department. Mom was crying as she thanked the men. At eight-years-old I didn’t see what there was to cry about. I
mean one minute there was no Christmas, the next we all had gifts and a Christmas dinner! At the time I knew nothing of what lies in a mother’s heart when God so completely and wonderfully answers her prayers for Christmas for her babies.

But the firemen weren’t done. They had gone back to the truck, and now they were pulling out a huge box with a candy cane striped swing-set inside. Our joy was beyond imagination. We had spent many hours swinging in homemade swings in the apple trees, but we had never seen or dreamed of anything as lovely as this red and white swing set. Our
little hearts could hold no more.

That year was the best Christmas we ever had. The turkey from the fire department filled the place with mouthwatering smells. Gifts were opened and nowhere was there greater joy than that which was found in the old farmhouse that day.

That night, as the snow continued to blow across the dark hills, nine children lay tucked in their beds on the dining room floor. The fire gave the room a soft glow. Over in the old green chair mama rocked the baby and fed him warm formula while Pop made his bedtime rounds,
stoking the fire and checking windows and doors for any loose masking tape that would let the cold east wind inside.

That was the night that the firemen brought Christmas to little children on a cold mountain. That was the night a new doll, brought from the fire department, slept all snuggly warm in its cardboard box beside a little girl who had prayed for a Christmas.

That was the night the heavens bent low.

That was the night the angels sang.

I will forever be grateful to the men who sacrificed their time that cold Christmas Eve. I have never forgotten their labor of love and the joy they brought to our hearts. Thank you so much for bringing Christmas to our house that year. You will never know what that meant to all of us! May God bless you all!

[tags]Christmas, Holidays, Christmas dinner, Christmas Story[/tags]

Originally posted on December 25, 2006 @ 2:45 pm

How Brats Are Created

By

ss

One of my resolutions for the New Year is to be a better Mom. Better, in that I am more conscious of how I am raising my kids to be happy, well-rounded and responsible adults. I have discovered that raising a brat is by far the easier way. Simply because all we have to do is give them what they want as opposed to thinking things through and giving them only what they need.

Heres a thoughtful letter written by a Filipino father to his daughter on the subject. It was printed in Business World Magazine.

How Brats Are Created

Who says only valuable jewelries can become heirlooms? My daughter showed me a copy of a letter written by her friend’s Dad on her 13th birthday. A few months after he wrote it, he died of a heart attack. Today, this letter is regarded as a family heirloom, shared not just with the immediate members of the family, but shown proudly to relatives and friends alike.

I felt the message in this beautiful letter should be shared with as many people as possible. So I asked my daughter if her friend – the letter’s addressee-would allow me to reprint it in BusinessWorld. She said there shouldn’t be a problem, except that a note should probably precede the letter asking the readers to share this with their young married children. Hah! a not-so-subtle inference that BusinessWorld readers are not exactly “young parents” anymore.

So, dear readers, do share this letter with your young married children. They will certainly find this letter – as I did – a very insightful treatise on how brats are created.

“Daughter Dearest Happy 13th Birthday!

“When you came to this world 13 years ago, you brought your Mom and I a lot of joy! We’ve always wanted a daughter and God in His wisdom gifted us with you.

“This is not to cast any aspersions at your four older brothers; they are also a great blessing and we love them very much, but boys are boys, and I look forward to the day when I am old and gray to have you by my side. I can’t see this happening with your brothers; you know what I mean, as we have talked about this at the dining-room table many a time.

“You have also heard me say that we are gifted with a lot of material wealth. That’s something we should be very grateful to the Lord about, but we should be aware that this has been loaned to us, as you too are loaned to us by God and that we will be asked to give a full accounting when our day of reckoning comes.

“The reason for this letter is to warn you about one big, big danger you and your brothers may face in the next few years. I have seen it happen in other families. I don’t want to see it happen here.

“I am referring to having you guys grow up as brats!” ‘Brat-manship’ is the process one has to go through to become a brat!

“Unfortunately, it is an ailment imposed by parents! They are the creators of the brats!

“In their desire to try to save their children from the difficulties they have been through, they do whatever possible to shield them from this. Little do they realize, that it is precisely these difficulties that have made them successful. Their love for their children may make them overprotective. They may even prevent them from taking public transportation. They come up with all sorts of rationalizations, going by public transportation is not safe, the buses are too crowded, the fumes on the road are bad for ones health, and so on!

“They mean well, but in the process, they deprive their children of what it really means to live in a city like Manila which is comprised of two strata of society – the ‘haves’ and the ‘have-nots!‘ And sad to say some of ‘the haves’ live in their little world. Unaware of that sampaguita vendor, drenched in the rain, so that her siblings may get a least one meal that day.

“The other day, I was with an elderly wise gentleman, we are at the Polo Club waiting for his car. There was a girl, about your age. She, too, was waiting for her car. When her vehicle got there, she jumped into the front seat, and as she did, tossed her beautiful pair of riding boots into the back seat. She then asked the driver if her Mom was home. ‘Wala po! Nagma-mah jong (She’s not home. She’s playing mah jong),’ came the reply! The car drove off.

“My friend turned to me and said, ‘There is an example of the under- privileged rich.’ Then he followed with, ‘They have everything and they have nothing.’

“This incident, short as it was, left me with a deep impression. I guess this is why I am writing this letter.

“Your Mom and I have tried to raise you kids to realize that our country is made up of the very rich and those who may not even have enough to have one decent meal a day. I hope you never lose sight of this. This is why we
have taken it upon ourselves to adopt a squatter family during Christmas and share with them some of some things to make their Christmas more meaningful.

In the process, we hope that you and your brothers will appreciate the conditions we live in. In the process, I hope that you always have compassion or these lesser fortunate. So that next time you see that sampaguita vendor knocking at our car window drenched in rain you do not get annoyed, but instead pull out your wallet and share with her in a small way your allowance.

“You will notice your brothers take public transportation to go to UP. It’s not that we can’t afford another car; we can’t afford for them to grow up thinking that its part of their ‘birth right’ to be in the ruling class.

“This is why we insisted that you do your bed in the morning, and to pick up your own toys and clothes, rather than have a yaya trailing you.

“And I could go on and on. As you are apt to say, ‘You catch my drift!’ “When you feel you are not getting enough money in your allowance, or get new shoes like your friends always had or the latest fad of Guess jeans, take this letter out and reread what I have written.

“We love you far too much to create a brat!

“Your Loving Father”

[tags]raising kids, spoiled brat, father[/tags]

Originally posted on December 27, 2006 @ 3:09 pm

ADHD: The Basics

By

ss

As a follow up on my post some days ago about ADHD Paranoia, I did some research on ADHD, and to be honest, am still non the wiser on whether my paranoia had some basis or not. What I do know is that I do have a daughter who is decidedly a handful (having a tantrum now as I type this over not having TV control because Daddy wanted to watch his sports), and the only way to really find out is through a battery of tests given my a psychiatrist.

So here’s what I dug up:

What is ADHD? Attention Deficit Hyper Activity Disorder. In the old days they used to just say things like “Oh, Jamie is hyper”, but I guess now the norm is more like” oh, Jamie has ADD and takes medication”.

Doctors explain though that the difference between old fashioned hyperactivity which most small kids have, is that kids with ADD have the symptoms for a prolonged period of time and it adversely affects their functions at home, ss and in social situations. Its frighteningly become a “common” disorder, said to affect 8-10% of school children.

But where is the line drawn between normal naughty kid behaviour and a medical disorder? Unfortunately, like I said earlier, its a call only a trained professional can make.

[tags]ADHD,ADD,Kids,Health[/tags]

Originally posted on October 5, 2006 @ 1:03 pm