Squirt Guns and Barbie Dolls

Most new parents want to do everything right. When my daughter was born, I fed her only organic food, used cloth diapers, practiced baby signs, took her to infant swim lessons and purchased toy trucks for her, along with the dolls. My mother-in-law was quick to point out that I would eventually make a mistake, but I did not hear her. Oh, I was certain I would make mistakes in life but, with my daughter, not a chance. She would not be eating McDonald's, playing with Barbie dolls or toy weapons. Not even a squirt gun.
The cloth diapers lasted less than one month. They were a nightmare, even with a diaper service cleaning and delivering them. The swim lessons lasted even less, as my daughter screamed every time we entered the pool. We still eat organic, though only partially now. McDonald's entered our lives in the way most fast-food joints become part of our existence. After a long day of fieldtrip driving, music class and Color Me Mine. Our hunger was up, our defenses were down, we were 45 minutes from home and a good hour until dinner. I passed the first MickeyD's with no reservation but when I saw the second set of golden arches approaching and heard my daughter pronounce, "I've never been this hungry," I knew it was time for her first chicken nugget. As a vegetarian since birth, this was her first taste of chicken and it remains the only meat she will eat to this day.
When my daughter was six, she received a Bratz doll from her good friend at a birthday party. "Please, mommy can I keep her," she pleaded. I felt like Mommie Dearest in that scene where she allows Christina to keep only two of her birthday gifts and caved. We took her out of the box together and my daughter was interested in everything about her from her lip-lined mouth to the stilletos that clipped on. I, however, was intrigued and shocked, frankly, at her thong panties and seized an opportunity for discussion. "Where do you think she's going today in this outfit? Do you think she's going to work," I asked. "No, mommy, she's going to Dave and Buster's with her mom and dad to play the horse racing game." A six year old answer and one I was glad to hear. I realized that the little mistakes in life, such as the unrealistic proportions of a Barbie doll, give us opportunities to share thoughts and help our children grow into wise people. A few weeks later, during a heatwave, we went to Target to purchase a squirt gun. We also picked up a Barbie.

Is Spanking A Black and White Issue?

If you have ever had a hand raised to you, as a child, your answer to the title of this blog is likely yes.  Spanking, whooping, beating - whatever term you use to describe the act, is terrifying to a child.  Often the parent will preface the punishment with, "this is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you."  But does it?  I have frequently felt that the spanking type of punishment is much more about the parent releasing anger and frustration than teaching a child a lesson about life.  It is far easier to raise a hand to release the embarrassment you feel about your child stealing candy corn from a drug store than it is to have a discussion about how that small business needs to pay its bills.   Explaining how the stolen candy adds up to wages lost for the owner's family will make much more of an impact down the road.  A discussion teaches the lesson.  A spanking teaches violence.  This is the point I was trying to make to a single father a few nights ago.  This is a man who helps his son with homework for two hours each night, drives carpool, takes him to sports practice, makes certain he eats healthy and will go see "Beverly Hills Chihauhau" for the third time on a saturday night.  He is a great dad.  So, when he casually mentioned he had to "whoop" his son on occasion, I was shocked and immediately saw it as a character flaw.  I asked, "don't you worry you are teaching him it is okay to hit?"  Now, I had thought I have come a long way with black and white thinking and considered myself emotionally mature and worldly, but what I was met with during this conversation irked me for days and bore the realization that no situation exists without the gray.  He is raising a black son in Los Angeles, where danger and temptation lurk everywhere. His parenting issues are different than what some of us face.  If his son is out on the street, simply goofing around, too late at night, at the wrong place/wrong time, a fatal mistake could be made.  Those were his words to me.  He doesn't spank him out of anger or frustration.  He does it out of love.  And maybe fear.  As a writer, I'm taught to see both sides of the coin.  I don't frequently have strong opinions but, when I do, they are not easily swayed. This father made me understand something I  should have already inherently known.  Each family must parent their children to their own unique situation.  None of us face the same circumstances nor can we fully understand one another's struggles.  Through dialogue we can listen and learn that it is not always and never, one extreme or the other.  Although spanking is not something that fits with my parenting philosophy or family mission, this dad taught me there is gray here and that my mind was not quite as open as I thought it was.