5 Reasons I Encourage My Children To Tattle

A couple of weeks before school let out for the summer, my oldest daughter, Lucy, came home somewhat upset about the fact that her friends were mad at her. Apparently, her friends were doing something (what in particular I don’t remember) the teacher had, on a previous occasion, told them to stop doing. Lucy, knowing they were wrong in their actions, told her teacher, who in turn dolled out the necessary consequences. Knowing Lucy was the one responsible for their punishment, her friends decided they were going to shun her, at least temporarily.

I was, quite frankly, unconcerned with her friend’s reactions. I was, however, proud of Lucy for speaking up not only against bad behavior, but particularly against her friends whom she cherishes.

            Lucy and I had quite a lengthy discussion about tattle telling and secret keeping. I know many parents that can’t stand tattling and make it quite clear to their children that tattling is not a good thing, but rather an annoyance. I take a different approach. I encourage my children to tattle for the following reasons.

1.      Tattling promotes communication.

Keeping an open line of communication between my daughters and I is extremely important. I want them to feel as if they can come to me with any problem, no matter how big or small. This open line of communication furthermore, allows us to have easy conversation regarding difficult topics.

2.      Tattling develops trust.

I want my daughters to feel trusted and to trust me. If they feel that tattling is but an annoyance they will be wary to come to me with problems and will eventually stop coming to me altogether. I want them to know that I trust their judgment and that they can trust me with their “secrets”.

3.     Tattling discourages secrets.

I do not want my daughters keeping secrets from me or anyone else, especially as they get older and secrets can become damaging or life threatening. I want them to openly communicate their joys, discomforts, and worries. I also want them to protect their friends by sharing with a trusted adult any secrets their friends may hold that are harmful.

4.      Tattling discourages bullying.

In a world full of bullies, I want my daughters to stand up for themselves and their friends by telling adults of such behavior. A bully is much more powerful and can inflict much more damage when their behavior goes unchecked.

5.     Tattling allows me to reinforce our family’s values and morals.

When a situation arrives like the one Lucy encountered and the lines of communication are open, I am able to have honest conversations about what we believe is right and wrong, good and bad, reinforcing those values and morals that we as a family cherish. I can only hope that both my daughters will embrace these values and morals and surround themselves with individuals who do the same.

I know that Lucy, and Lily for that matter, will, in the future, experience conflicts with friends and foes due to tattling. However, I hope that all these conflicts can be solved with open communication.

There's Nothing Like a Sick Kid to Trigger My Anxiety

            Last week Lily contracted, what I thought was a small stomach bug. Slight diarrhea, a day without an appetite, and a small fever for a couple of hours. The diarrhea lasted a couple of days, though her appetite returned and the fever disappeared. However, her stool, a week later, though not diarrhea, is still not back to normal and this morning she not only had no appetite again but also spiked a fever again. Two days ago, I felt like I had contracted a bit of her bug, and I have worried all week about Lucy getting sick. The Lorazepam that I try only to take in situations of extreme anxiety has been on hand all week.

I realize that most mothers worry when their kids are sick. If they don’t worry, they pretty much think having sick kids sucks.  I on the other hand don’t just worry I fret, I sweat, I practically hyperventilate. Some of this reaction is just a normal part of my anxiety. However, some of the heightened anxiety is due to having a child with a chronic disease.

What most people don’t realize about diabetes is that it is affected by the slightest changes in the body. Lily’s sugars can spike or drop depending on hormonal changes, heat, mood/stress, or illness. Stomach viruses cause low blood sugar. Bringing those sugars up can be challenging when she is unable or unwilling to eat. Fevers cause high blood sugar, which if gone unchecked can lead to diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA), the state Lily was in when she was first diagnosed and resulted in a three-day trip to intensive care. These facts alone exacerbate my anxiety, but the unpredictability of the disease, the dependence on numbers leave me on the verge of weeping, upsets my stomach, and can, if I let it go unchecked, render me incapable of taking care of my daughter.

Even though I don’t necessarily have the same reactions when Lucy gets sick, I worry just as much. Horrible stories of children who have died as a result of simple diseases constantly circulate through my thoughts. Lucy’s own anxiety over getting sick contributes to my heightened anxiety.  I ask too many questions about how she is feeling, hover too much, Lysol frequently, and become a general annoyance to her and everyone in the house.

Having sick kids just doesn’t suck it consumes every aspect of my mental and physical health. So the next time you see me lecturing my children about washing their hands, or disinfecting every surface known to man, you can laugh, but do so empathetically.

Playing Well With Others Is Not My Forte Part 2

        Back in October, my oldest, Lucy decided that she wanted to give Girl Scouts a try. What attracted her to the notion, I am not sure, but she got it in her head that Girl Scouts was going to be the thing for her. Being a child who thought Girl Scouts was nothing but a group of clicky nerds, I was not anxious to sign her up. I avoided finding a troop for Lucy for nearly two months before her incessant nagging forced me to act. Eventually, I found a troop two minutes from our house and we began attending meetings. Before I knew it we were crafting, hiking, and selling cookies with a vengeance.

Lucy has been having the time of her life making new friends and earning badges, which I regularly have the joy of ironing on her Brownie vest, while up until recently, and the arrival of a couple of new mothers, I have struggled to make small talk with the other parents and adopt the positive attitude toward group activities promoted by the Girls Scouts and Lucy’s troop leaders.

You see, it is common knowledge that I neither like to nor am I good at playing well with others. This glaring personality trait often leaves me on the outside of large social circles, a loner due to my inability to tolerate the inefficiency, drama, and heap of steaming crap that almost always are inherent in group relationships.  I have learned over the years not to subject myself to large social circles and activities involving groups. It is, quite frankly better for everyone involved that I stick to my small social circle and myself. Girls Scouts, however, has not allowed me the solidarity that I am so comfortable with and has left me on more than one occasion miserable.

Lucy’s troop sold enough cookies this year that they earned a trip to LEGOLAND. Her troop leaders, the girls, and many of the parents found this news exciting. I almost immediately began dreading a group trip to a theme park, and on a Saturday no less. As the days went by and the discussions around the logistics of the trip became more and more detailed, I began looking for every excuse under the sun why we couldn’t and shouldn’t go and verbally expressed my concerns to Lucy. Lucy, however, would not be swayed.

Therefore, this morning we set off for LEGOLAND, with my anti-anxiety pills in my bag. The trip was everything I imagined it would be. A complete cluster-fuck, in which Lucy ended up melting down after an hour because of the rigidity of the rules involved. The most annoying of which were the inability to separate from the large group of 13 girls and their parents, and the troop leaders insistence that the girls spend every waking moment with the buddies they were assigned, not those they would have chosen themselves. After 3.5 hours with a total of 4 rides and one show under our belt even Lucy had had enough. We opted instead for lunch outside the park and a relaxing evening at home.

I was once again reminded that playing with others only brings me misery and that not even my anti-anxiety pills can take the edge off.

Breast Obsessed

            I am currently lying next to Lily in bed. She is watching her IPad. I am lazily surfing the internet while thinking of topics to write about for my blog, when suddenly Lily stretches her arm out, reaches for my breast and cups it oh so gently in her hand. Her hand lingers for two or three minutes before she removes it, resting it under her chin. Having my breasts touched by one of the girls is such a common occurrence, that I barely flinch when it occurs. My girls, it seems, are breast obsessed.

            Lucy in particular has always had a fascination with breasts. At a very young age she began asking questions regarding breasts. “When will I get big boobies like you, Mommy?” being the most common question asked. Lucy has also always loved bra shopping with both my mother and me. She is so serious and professional when choosing bras that you would think she is the sales associate. Not only does she love picking out bras but also loves to make sure they fit properly by squeezing your breasts gently and very thoughtfully exclaiming, “Yes, I think that one looks good.” Many would be mortified by such behavior from their daughter. It takes every ounce of effort for me not to laugh at her, which would offend her greatly. To this day she will walk up to me, squeeze my breasts and exclaim, “Boobies, boobies, boobies!” At one point in time she became obsessed with Google searches. One day she expressed her desire to search breasts. I quickly panicked, knowing she would tap into several porn sites, and muffled something about inappropriate pictures.  My reaction must have been enough to scare her because she hasn’t searched breasts or asked to do so since.

            Lily is not as blatant in her admiration of breasts but has, since she was a baby, slipped her hand down my shirt regularly while being held. She also likes to try and pull open the front of my shirt to see my breasts exposed. Her own breasts are also a source of fascination. She likes to touch them and rub them, sometimes laughing when she does so, always smiling mischievously.

            Where lies the source of this fascination? Your guess is as good as mine

Christmas Crap: Resisting the Temptation to Buy More

            Enter any room in my 2100 square foot house and you will step on, trip on, or kick a toy. Not only do each of my girls have closets full of toys, but we have an entire loft area dedicated to a play room, a screened-in lanai with toy bins and a garage full of toys dedicated to outdoor play. I have a chest full of games sitting in my living room and an office overflowing with craft materials. Basically, my girls have too much crap!

So much crap that I have spent the last two months sorting unused and unwanted items. I have already taken two huge loads to Goodwill and have another large load sitting in my living room waiting to go. Despite my efforts, I find discarded items in every room of the house. I am currently looking at three of Lu’s stuffed animals scattered around the family room floor. The chaos is overwhelming and attempts at cleaning and organizing are fruitless. 

I worry about the message we are sending our girls; the potential for raising spoiled, ungrateful little wretches. I worry that their values lie with things, as opposed to people. I worry that they lack empathy for those less fortunate. And I worry that all these things are breeding entitled brats who believe the world owes them these material goods.

Therefore, before the Christmas season began, I swore that this year we would be having a “small” Christmas; that though my girls would receive gifts, I would purchase half of what I have in the past. I even had a conversation with Lucy, telling her that Santa and I had a conversation regarding the number of gifts she would be receiving this year because she and Lily have more than enough toys.

Honestly, I thought buying little would be easy. My plan was to purchase one large gift for each girl and then four or five smaller gifts. I swore not to purchase crap gifts, in other words those small toys that get played with for a day or two then either break or are dropped on the floor or thrown in a basket and forgotten. I also swore not to purchase toys just to up the number of gifts under the tree. My gifts would require thought and be high on the girls’ lists of most wanted.

Sticking to these rules, I finished my Christmas shopping in one day, and quite frankly, was extremely proud of myself for keeping my own promise. However, within the last day or two the pressures of materialism have begun to weigh on me. I have started to think that what I bought is not enough. As catalogs have inundated my mailbox, I have browsed their pages finding one more item Lily would love, one more craft Lu would enjoy. I have also felt a tinge of sadness that I crammed the whole Christmas season into one day while sitting on my couch, that I missed the shopping experience by buying everything online. I have had to resist the temptation to run to Target for another item or two.

The point, however, is that I have resisted the temptation. That every time I have thought I should buy another toy or craft supply, I have looked around the house at the girls overflowing toy bins and stopped dead in my tracks. I have also looked at my bank account and felt good about the results of having a small Christmas. In the past, I have put considerable strain upon it, or have wondered where the money for Christmas is going to come from. This year, my bank account is thanking me.  I can only hope that on Christmas day the girls will be thanking Santa for their well thought out gifts, and one day be thanking me for teaching them the true meaning and value of Christmas.