Way too many parents need to learn the difference between “a child being disrespectful” and “a human person expressing an opinion that differs from theirs”
my mom had a nice technique for this. when i’d give her sass, she’d say, “i don’t speak rude, what’s that in polite-person-ese?”
basically, she’d encourage me to rephrase my opinion without the attitude. so “UGH, you NEVER let me do ANYTHING!” would (often after quite a bit of bitching and grumbling) turn into “it feels like every time i have a fun idea, you say no, and i just end up sitting around the house.”
and at that point we could troubleshoot like civilized people. she could explain that she didn’t want me to go to jimmy’s sleepover because jimmy’s dad creeps her out, and i could suggest maybe i could have andy over instead, and she could say sure, why not call peter and stacy and brianna and have your own party, i’ll pop some popcorn and rent a movie, and i could add what if we put up tents in the back yard and have a bonfire and roast marshmallows, and she could laugh and say don’t push it.
I really like this technique because it addresses the OPs comment but recognizes that the two can coexist. The problem is often the child is expressing their opinion in a rude or disrespectful way. And as humans we automatically become adverse to opinions we feel are aggressive toward us.
Tag: parenting
This may just be my experience as an autistic person, but the kids I’ve nannied whose parent’s complain of ‘bad awful in cooperative selfish autistic behavior’ are… Not like that? At all?
Like, for example, I cared for a kid for a while who was nonverbal and didn’t like being touched. Around six years old? Their parent said that they were fussy and had a strict schedule, and that they had problems getting them to eat. Their last few nannies had quit out of frustration.
So, I showed up. And for the first little while, it was awkward. The kid didn’t know me, I didn’t know them, you know how it is. And for the first… Day and a half, maybe? I fucked up a few times.
I changed their diaper and they screamed at me. I put the TV off and they threw things. Not fun, but regular upset kid stuff.
Next time, I figured, hell, I wouldn’t like being manhandled and ordered around either. Who likes being physically lifted out of whatever it is they’re doing and having their pants yanked off? Fucking few, that’s who.
Next time, I go, ‘hey, kiddo. You need a new diaper?’ and check. ‘I’m gonna go grab a new one and get you clean, okay?’ ‘Wanna find a spot to lay down?’ ‘Alright, almost done. Awesome job, thanks buddy’.
I learned stuff about them. They liked a heads up before I did anything disruptive. They didn’t mind that I rattled of about nothing all day. They didn’t like grass or plastic touching their back. They were okay with carpets and towels. They liked pictionary, and the color yellow, and fish crackers, and painting. They didn’t look me in the face (which was never an issue- I hate that too, it fucking sucks) but I never had reason to believe that they were ignoring me.
Once I learned what I was doing wrong, everything was fine. Did they magically “”“become normal”“” and start talking and laughing and hugging? No, but we had fun and had a good time and found a compromise between what I was comfortable with and what they were comfortable with. (For the record, I didn’t magically sailor-moon transform into a socially adept individual, either. In case anyone was wondering.)
I don’t like eye contact. It’s distracting and painful and stresses me out.
They didn’t like eye contact either.
Is eye contact necessary to communication? No. So we just didn’t do it.
Was there ever a situation where I HAD to force them to drop everything and lay down on the lawn? No. So the thirty second warning came into play, and nobody died.
“But they never talked!”
No, they didn’t. And they didn’t know ASL, and they didn’t like being touched.
So you know what happened?
My third day in, they tugged on my shirt. ‘Hey monkey, what’s up?’ I asked. And they tugged me towards the kitchen. ‘oh, cool. You hungry?’. They raised their hands in an ‘up’ gesture. ‘you want up? Cool.’ and I lifted them up. They pointed to the fridge. I opened it. They grabbed a juice box out of the top shelf, and pushed the door closed again. ‘oh sweet, grape is the best. You are an individual of refined taste.’ I put them down and they went back to their room to play Legos.
“But they didn’t say please or thank you!” “But you should be teaching them communication skills!” “But!” Lalalalala.
1. The entire interaction was entirely considerate and polite. I was never made uncomfortable. I was made aware of the problem so that I could help them solve it. There was no mess, no tears, no bruises, no shouting.
2. Did my brain collapse into a thousand million fragments of shattered diamond dust out of sheer incomprehension? No? Then their communication skills were fine. Goal realized, solution found, objective complete. They found the most simple and painless way to communicate the situation and then did it.
Kids are not stupid. AUTISTIC kids are not stupid.
I’m willing to bet real cash money that the real reason the last few nannies had quit had a million times more to do with their own ability to cope, not the kid’s.
To this day, that was the most relaxed and enjoyable job I’ve ever had.
And I know I don’t speak for everyone. All kids are different. All adults are different. But in my time and experience, pretty much 95% of all my difficulties with children come from ME not being understanding enough. Every single “problem child” I’ve worked with turned out to be a pretty cool person once I started figuring out how to put my ego aside and let them set the pace.
Again, not speaking universally, here. I’m just saying. Sometimes social rules are bullshit, you know? People are people
Have you ever read an article about the study that found that teaching the parents to cope with autistic kids yields better results than other therapies? Because this is exactly what they were talking about.
I used to work with kids and so many parents have just. Dismissed their kids’ ability to have an experience because their kid is autistic? Like I was telling a kid the guidelines for an exhibit and he wasn’t looking at me but he was nodding along and his mom goes “he doesn’t get it, he’s autistic”. Look. So is my brother. This kid is nodding along, clearly he gets me at LEAST as well as the sugared up allistic kids rampaging around, I’m not expecting perfection, just that he not hospitalized himself. But I see him DEFLATE, so I just ignored her and kept talking to him and ended with “thumbs up if you got it” and I got the thumbs up and a small smile. And she had the BALLS to come up to me teary eyed and say how rare his smiles are. No shit, you treat your son like shit, of course he won’t smile at you. No shit he mostly followed all the rules for me.
Or like the time I offered a little girl a sticker, and plenty of parents said no, that’s fine, I get it, but this woman stopped to tell me “no, she’s autistic”. What? What does that have to do with it? Why do you have to tell me her business? I’m a stranger, why do I need to know her business?
They’re still small humans with feelings, it takes so little to just be respectful of them and not a piece of shit to a kid.
One time one of my coworkers was talking about his daughter (who was only 5-6 at the time) and how he was already worried about boys, etc. once she got older. He wasn’t one of those dads, who would quite literally hunt down a teenage boy with a shotgun over some backseat shenanigans. He was just a concerned dad.
He asked me what my dad used to do to scare all of the boys away from me, or to at least make sure they were good to me.
My answer?
Example.
My dad never once said, “Katie, if a boy hits you, make sure to bring him back here so I can make him pay.”
Instead, my kind, gentle-soul dad expressed anger and utter contempt for men who beat their wives (and vice versa), and has never in his life raised his hand against me or my mother.
My dad never once said, “Katie, don’t go out with a boy who’s rude to the waitress.”
Instead, my father has treated every single server we’ve had throughout my entire life (except the rare ones who were rude first) with respect and courtesy.
My dad never once told my brothers to get up and offer the pregnant lady their seat on the subway.
Instead he was the first one to stand up, and smiled proudly when his young sons copied him when 2 other women boarded.
My dad didn’t raise me to only make good decisions when he’s there looking over my shoulder. He showed me what to look for in a man, not by preaching at me or declaring that he was the perfect mold. But his treatment of others (esp women) is the foundation for my standards when it comes to men.
So, parents, you want to make sure all of those Bad Apples stay away? Step one is to demonstrate what a Good Apple looks like, up close and personal.
Because if you’ve taught your daughters to respect themselves enough to have high standards, there won’t be any need for you chase any Bad Apples away. Your daughter will take care of that for you.
This is important. It’s also important to teach little girls that self help is always an option.
When I was eight I went to my parents crying because a little boy was routinely jumping me from behind when he passed me in the hallways and pulling my hair and it hurt.
My parents didn’t tell me that the boy must have a crush on me, or that I should cut my hair, or even to go tell a teacher (though that last one wouldn’t have been bad advice).
Instead, my dad knelt down and soberly said the following:
“That’s not ok. It’s never ok for someone to touch you in a manner you don’t like. If someone does that too you once, you ask them politely to stop and tell them you don’t like it when they do that. If they do it a second time, you look them in the eye and tell them loudly, “I’m feeling threatened and if you do that again I will defend myself.’ If they do it a third time, you break their nose.”
He proceeded to teach me how to break someone’s nose.
I’m sure people will debate the appropriateness of this advice, but I’ve only ever had to move past yelling “I’m feeling threatened” once. My dad wanted me to know, from an early age, that I wasn’t weak or entirely dependent on others to defend myself, he wanted to teach me that I had power too, and I should use it when necessary.
Me: I don’t know if I ever want to be pregnant, I’d rather adopt a kid or two that are a bit older
Someone: Are you SURE? Older adoptees present UNIQUE CHALLENGES
Me: We are discussing human beings not digital pets
Literally every child every born and/or parented presents unique challenges. It’s like people are unique individuals…..or something………….
An amazing and revolutionary concept
When people ask me, “Why do you want to adopt teenagers?” I always answer, “Because you asked like that.”
I’m real over it. If I become a foster mom to a 17 year old kid and I get the privilege of the option to adopt them? You better believe I am legally making that kid mine.
“They’ll be a legal adult in no time, why spend the money to adopt? They’ll be aged out of the system.”
There’s no aging out of family, Marvin.
“They might be rebellious or smoke or do drugs or steal things! What if they won’t listen to you?”
Then I guess I’ll have to step up and do some fruxking parenting, Stanley.
“You want to adopt problem children then?”
All. Children. Are. Problem. Children. If you’re not prepared to deal with the fact that at some point, any child ever, whether you birthed them yourself or adopted them at any age, could become a problem? Then you are NOT ready to have children, and should really just step off and let the people who actually want to be parents live in peace with their kids.
Hey I’m so glad this post is picking up
wupacing 