Howtoraiseyourchild.com

Since becoming a dad I’ve been exposed to the cash bonanza that is handing out parenting advice, so in order to make this blog pay, I’m getting on the bandwagon. Men don’t read advice, women hate advice from un-qualified/inexperienced men and everybody becomes catatonically enraged when a third party sticks their nose in regarding their kids, so this should be a raging success.

I’m sure the advice columns are littered with the columnist padding out the reader questions with their own stunt questions in order to provide the pearls of wisdom they are dying to share. l just pinch questions from the successful sites (change the names) and answer in the opposite way thus proving there is more than one way to skin a cat…but who the hell skins a cats?

Question: Dear Natural Organic Mum, My child Starbeam is being brought up to only eat the food that used to be eaten by the Farflungmadeup tribe of the Amazon. As you know this tradition ensures my child is nourished only by the un-polluted super foods made from root vegetables, moss and fungus found in the jungles of the Amazon. Despite explaining in detail my child’s needs at a party we recently attended the host provided non organic juice thus polluting Starbeams pristine digestive system. How can I reprimand the parents who allowed my child to drink this juice against my wishes.

Actual Answer from Natural Organic Mum: I find it is always advisable to bring a small bag of food and drink from home to ensure your child’s individual needs are catered for. I have found that the hosts are grateful for the specialist catering and if you bring some extra it encourages the other children (and adults!) to enjoy the great taste and nutrition. I do not feel that confronting the parents is the tranquil path to tread and by enlightening others about your choices in a positive way it will bring you greater rewards.

Barneyarns alternate answer: The Farflungmadeup tribe eat whatever is at hand, I believe McDonalds is now their most popular form of food and with modern medicine enjoy more than the 30 years of life they endured when eating the supposed magic diet. It is amazing that your meddling has been overcome and your child has some friends that still invite him/her to parties; for that you should be grateful. Kids eat dirt so one glass of juice is probably one of the better things Starbeam will eat. Do not bring your own food unless Starbeam has a real allergy to a common food, your host will be annoyed, the other kids will hate the fungus you feed Starbeam and it will only add to the growing list of things they tease him/her about (the first thing on the tease list is the name, try changing that).    

By Chinky McPlay 

      

I think all parents know that occasionally the best thing that we can give a kid is a smack, but it can never be something that hurts them.”

Tony Abbott, prime minister, Australia

Chinky’s response

 Wow! Mr Abbott, please explain:  “ the best thing we can give kids is a smack?” Of course it can never be something that hurts them – ummm a smack that doesn’t hurt ? Sounds like bullshit to me…..

….Earlier this year, the Royal Australasian College of Physicians called for any physical punishment of children to be outlawed. It said research shows physical punishment increases the future risk of a child suffering mental health problems, including depression and antisocial or aggressive behaviour.

Despite evidence from educated professionals who see the immediate and longer term effects of ‘smacking’ children, our  country’s leader, Mr Abbott, has indicated he is not in favour of a ban: “We often see political correctness taken to extremes and maybe this is another example,” he told Channel Seven, this morning.

….Most of us would label a child who hits another child, a bully; when a teenager hits somebody he is a ‘thug’ out of control; an adult who slaps a workmate or (heaven forbid!) their partner would probably receive a criminal conviction. So why would we even consider it acceptable to hit children who don’t yet have the brain pathways to manage emotions or impulse control, who haven’t developed the language and cognitive skills to communicate articulately and who are still learning right from wrong….

Barne Yarns says: Life is all about balance, Tony was smacked too much creating a narrow mind, Chinky not enough hence a waif, I was raised perfectly and am less successful than the aforementioned duo. This inconclusively proves that both wrong approaches can be overcome and the perfect approach may not be enough.  On second thought the truth is more boring, Tony and Chinky both appear to be good parents so don’t need advice; unfortunately nutters on both sides will agree vehemently with their champion and that is where the real damage is done.

The debate about smacking is always spearheaded by some drop kick drooling: “I was smacked and no harm did done to me get done”. Being countered by a waif with out of control kids proposing “Children can make their own choices”. Ironically both sides of the argument, think their champion is furthering their cause and the opponent a prime example of what is trying to be avoided.

I can’t believe Chinky said bullshit in the first para but she did hit the nail on the head. Smack but don’t hurt them isn’t that a pat? Does Tony believe what he says or is a looking for solid political ground? Chinky then makes out that whacking your kid on the leg for trying to stick a knife in the toaster might scar them for life and is akin to punching on with your boss. Dropkicks DO need to be told to never smack their kids, The waif raising a free-spirited rabble of kids DOES need to be told to set boundaries and enforce them with an iron fist. Of course neither side will listen. Us smart Barneyarn readers will all do the wrong things disciplining our children, smacking when we shouldn’t or using reasoning and naughty steps ineffectively. Since our heart is in the right place we will bumble through without damaging our kids. I don’t know if you should smack your kids or not but I do know you are smart enough to avoid being a nutter. 

It's a big responsibility raising the cutest baby in the world... A proud parent

I like to think of myself as being able to bring the laughs, even if at times a performance enhancing mood and the lack of sobriety of the audience are major contributing factors. Things have recently changed and the audience I now most want to make laugh has a slightly different sense of humour. Gone are long tales involving my own stupidity, sarcastic one liners and general buffoonery. It doesn’t wash with the new audience. I now spend my days pulling funny faces, making strange sounds and physically moving a third party to perform a dance routine. All this so young Max smiles and if I’m lucky makes a noise of joy. It is interesting to me that the highlight of my day is contingent on the perceived approval of somebody who can barely communicate back.

Yes, I have now become the most boring person in the world, a proud parent. Believe it or not I do know that you can’t possibly care as much as me about my first born son, but that doesn’t mean I can tailor my conversation to accommodate that fact. When so much of your brain is filled with the trivial movements of a baby I’m bound to bring up Max’s funny habit of doing the riverdance on his back after a bath…I’ve even videoed it so you can enjoy the blurry image on a tiny screen. If you don’t like photos of my son in a new hat, if you don’t care that he pointed at a bird and are frankly a bit disgusted by discussion about his latest bowel movements, I understand, but too bad.

Having the cutest baby in the world is a big responsibility and it is hard to ensure discussions have enough Max content to do justice to him. If you have a child of your own don’t think for a minute this means I care about actually talking about being a parent, that is what mothers groups are for. I know my son is the best, I’m sure yours is pretty good so let’s talk about sport…while I day dream about Max being a sports star.

This might all be to do with Max’s stage of development. It is the only time in his life where he can literally do no wrong. Parents speaking highly of toddlers is rare, the screaming and destruction seem to be at the forefront of toddlers parents minds when somebody praises their offspring. Teenagers don’t just get parents off side, the smell, noise and attitude has society at large against most of that lot. However cute, big eyed babies can’t be blamed for their involuntary actions but can be praised for their good looks and positive behaviour eg. Flapping their arms and staring at their feet. Unlike toddlers and teenagers praising a baby is always met with agreement, the screaming and odour aren’t anybody’s fault but the dimples are being claimed by both sides of the family as their gift to this latest generation.

I want nothing more than to see Max go out and conquer the world. To get there (or to get anywhere) will mean this perfect child will have to cease being perfect and bumble along in the world. At times he will be a tantrum throwing toddler, frightened child, know it all teenager and bewildered adult. That is why I make no apologies for being a boring parent and spending my days trying to get a babies approval. There is a long road ahead and this is possibly the only time that he’ll be perfect. 
So, yes you can talk about your child to me but I’ll only be listening so I know when to jump in and talk about perfect Max......Did you know that he got some sun glasses the other day and I have a photo of that if youd like to have a look...... Despite Julia’s scepticism Ratamahatta by Sepultura is an awesome song for babies, Max loves it...... Did you know Max appears to be left handed…..           

Lefty the Happy Sock

Lefty was one of Max’s most favourite socks. With Max’s other favourite sock, Righty, they went everywhere together.

Lefty and Righty were long and blue and striped and people often commented on how cute they were.

Being the favourites Lefty and Righty were always first picked for Max’s adventures.

Sometimes Mum put Lefty on the right and Righty on the left…but they didn’t care.

They went with Max’s shoes, they went with Max’s sandals and one time Dad even put them with with Max’s thongs!

Max always took them to fun places, they went running through grass, jumping in puddles and roughhousing with their dog, Maggie.

Lefty loved everything he did with Righty. He even loved tumbling around the washing machine and sun baking on the clothes line.

But one day Dad bundled Lefty up with a different sock, he was blue and stripey like Righty but it wasn’t Righty.

Lefty thought Dad should have known that he was always bundled up with Righty.

Lefty remembered Dad sometimes pretended they weren’t a bundle of socks but a football and kick them down the hallway

.…so surely Dad knew to put him with Righty! It was all Dad’s fault he wasn’t with Righty!

Then and there Lefty decided he wasn’t going to go anywhere, any more.

The other sock he had been put with was called Spare.

Spare tried his best to get Lefty to go out and have adventures with him and Max.

But Lefty was just rude to Spare, scowling at him “You’re not Righty! I only play with Righty! Righty, Max and I have fun together, and you’re no fun!”

Spare tried his best to be friends with Lefty.

Spare even told Lefty that he had an old friend that he used be bundled with called Odd. Spare explained to Lefty that he missed Odd just like Lefty missed Righty. Spare said this meant he knew how Lefty felt.

Lefty just grizzled “I’m not playing with you, I only like playing with Righty”.

Spare pointed out  to Lefty that “Max, Odd and I had lots of fun and Odd wasn’t even blue and stripey like us”.

Spare suggested maybe they could try and have fun together instead of sitting in the boring old drawer all day. But Lefty just pouted and stopped talking to Spare.

After a long time in the dark boring drawer, Lefty and Spare had fallen right down the bottom and nobody asked them to play anymore.

One day Mum went to the drawer looking for Max’s hanky, because sometimes she put a hanky in with the socks. While Mum searched the Socks got mixed around and Lefty and Spare landed next two a particularly faded pair of thin socks.

They were worn and thin and Lefty definitely did not want to speak to them.

Lefty then heard a little voice, “Is that you lefty?”. The voice sounded familiar. “It’s me Righty” Lefty couldn’t believe it, his old friend Righty had faded so much and got so thin he didn’t recognise him.

 “What happened to you?” inquired Lefty. Then Righty told Lefty all about his adventures with Odd.

Righty said he remembered being sad that Dad had mixed them up, but decided he could still have fun with Odd.

Odd and Righty went out playing with Max and Maggie who had both gotten so big since Lefty had seen them, they had been worn as gloves, they even went on a slippery side! they had done everything.

Lefty realised he had been so silly. If he had listened to  Spare they could have had all that fun as well.

Spare pointed out how horrible Lefty had been to him. Spare then said that Lefty was being so rude he was even going to ignore his best friend Righty!

Lefty apologised to Spare and promised to go and play the very next chance they got.

Lefty realised it might be sad when things change, friends move or you can’t do something anymore….but it is even sadder when you don’t keep doing other fun things because one thing has gone wrong.

After that Lefty was first to do everything and spent less time in the boring old drawer, he got bundled up with spare and then bundled up with Righty and Odd and other new friends he hadn’t met before….Dad even once made him into a bundle with a red sock! But Lefty didn’t care at all.

     

The parental switch has been flicked...

The end of a quiet eventful day in the company of loving family, the smell of a beautiful dinner in the air and my 12week old sleeping peacefully in a carrier on my chest. My son had been upset and screaming during the arvo, so this quite peaceful period carries that added feeling of tranquillity only found in a quiet hour with a content new(ish)born.

I wondered out to enjoy what smelt like  a beautiful dinner. My wife naturally and lovingly asks me how our little man is doing, a simple question filled with the strong care and affection she has for our family.

My son was so at peace he didn't move as my wide undid the carrier and slid him out, she sang a sweet little tune to help the transition to his bassinet.

"Is he alright?"

The question left my mouth but i never expected an answer, I could see what was happening but still somehow hoped that by uttering those words what was obvious to me wasnt actually happening at all. Time stopped as my wife held my pale, limp, silent bow and reached for her phone.

"take him outside, take him"

My wife instinctively knew the cold night air would help and I was happy to fllow any command, to do something, anything.

As I stood in the cold I held him face down, face up, I jiggled, I shouted, was he breathing? I rubbed and shouted, he looked at me. No he didn't. He opened his dazed eyes, he didnt focus, he didnt see anything, he looked past me, he looked through me... lifeless. I kept shouting and jiggling, he made a small sound and flopped. Three more times he roused, murmured and flopped.

The ambulance wasn't contactable.. the operated stayed calm, I was panicked. We were in a bad dream, this wasn't real, we were in a bubble, we were in a soup.

I shouted that he was ok. I wanted to convince my wife, I wanted to convince myself, it was a prayer not a statement. " he is OK"

Finally a stir, a small cry, a bigger cry, a huge scream... the sweetest ear splitting scream.

"HE IS OK" this time a statement, this time good news, not hope, this time to console my wife to inform myself, he is OK, you bloody little beauty.

By the time the ambulance arrived my little man is in full voice, he cries because it's cold, he laughs at the Ambo's funny face, he plays with the blanket.

Mum and Dad relieved and concerned but mostly just shocked.

Our magic, perfect baby boy is oblivious and happy. New faces to look at, interesting people pushing and prodding. New sounds and machines to check out.

The youngest member of our family is full of wonder. Even if it is not fully conscious, it is innate he is eager to learn new things and experience what life has to offer. The parents; me, scared, worried and keen to protect. I just want safety and assurance for my sone not opportunity and adventure.

What have I put my parent through? The magic switch of parenthood has been flicked. I now see why my parents could see danger where I saw opportunity... on most occasions just the opportunity for stupid reckless fun.

How will we as parents let our son grow, experience and strive when everything in me just wants to wrap and protect. How can we let him develop into the easy going, smart, adventurous boy we want when everything in my wants to shield him from danger.

I guess we grow, assess and balance these impulses we have to find the great courage to let go. I now realise the bravest person is not the dare devil but the dare devil's parents as they have all care and no control. I guess we have to develop as parents as our son develops as a man.

From his birth I changed. I can see how hard it is to be an easy going freewheeling parent and no longer can I be freewheeling, impulsive boy. I have a new life to nurture and a much greater understanding on the courage of my parents. I only now appreciate fully why my parents didn't like me climbing trees at three, riding my bike down that big hill and across the road at 10, drinking and staying out all night as a teenager. I thought it was my risk, I didn't realise that there was no risk for me, I couldn't see the burden of risk was all theirs.

I can now see the potential for disaster in everything my boy does and he is still too young to spread his wings.

My boy, he is looking at me and smiling, wondering why dad is upset and he feels fine and has nothing but opportunities in front of him already puzzling why I haven't put him down, why I haven't yet trusted myself to let him do the simplest task.