The Scullery Maid

I have it on good authority that my name, The Scullery Maid, sounds too self-pitying.  I am accepting nominations for alternate names.

is it working?

My MIL called to ask, "Is it working? Being mean to her?"  Not that I am being mean to her on a regular basis, just the one-time here's-what-it-looks-like-to-be-around-you demonstration.

Yes, I would have to say it has.  Between that and the calm two swats, repeated as necessary, Tater has had a total of ONE temper tantrum since Monday.  One.  We have had some fusses, yes, but no raging.  Three rage-free days in a row is a record here.  So yes, I would have to say it is working.

The S-word

So, Tater's behavior is progressively worse: this year is worse than last, last year was worse than the one before.  It's the kind of behavior that if we saw some other kid doing it we would furrow our brows and say, "That kid needs a spanking."  I know. I know.  I just uttered the unspeakable word.  When you have recovered, read on.

Our guiding book Transforming the Difficult Child (which does not advocate spanking) recommends that we acknowledge that all emotional reactions from parents are -- from a kid's perspective -- pay-offs.  Negative or positive, they are the desired response. 

We especially see this when I am doing anything that precludes giving Tater my attention.  She would like to have non-stop undivided attention.  If I am not available for positive attention, she will deliberately trigger negative attention.  Literally, it will go like this:

Me: Tater, I am not available for 20 minutes.  If you interrupt me, you will have to wait on your bed.
(20 seconds pass -- she interrupts.)
Me: Okay, time to wait on your bed.
Tater: NOOooo, I don't want to. (Screams, rages, won't go to her bed, throws things, screams that she hates me and that when she grows up she will come back and stomp on my stomach.)  Pretty much does whatever she can think of that will get me to physically move her to her bed and/or return to the room she is in.  When the mean screaming doesn't work, she will sob that she needs a snuggle.

Oh, she needs a snuggle. I'm supposed to deliver that right?  No!  I used to, but I've smartened up.  Look at this from her point of view.

Mom says she is not available.  If I act up, I'll be sent to sit on my bed but if I don't go, she'll have to take me (attention) and if I scream something loud enough or long enough or mean enough she'll come close my door and windows (attention) and when I stop screaming she'll pop in all smiley that I stopped screaming and I'll get a long snuggle and I'll have her attention.

And this is pretty much wrecking my life. I can't stand the screaming 2-4 times a day, an hour at a time.  I can't keep my cool, so even if I am calm and neutral with her, the anxiety emanating off of me for the next several hours is a tremendous pay-off for her.  How powerful she must be to jangle her adult so thoroughly.

And how can we sparkle and dote upon her for compliance when there isn't any?  For this, sparkling and doting, is (according to our book) the path to happiness: help her see herself as someone who can be pleasing.

This morning:

Tater comes in all scowling and snarling because she doesn't like part of the day's plan.
Me: Please leave my room.  You may come back when you can be pleasant.
(You need to know that our bedroom is the long-established safe house for adults and pets.  The children may be in there by permission and at our discretion.  I have to have somewhere to cool off.)
Tater huffs out in an indignant and surly manner.
Me: Please go sit on your bed.
Tater objects and back-talks and argues.
Me: Tater, I cannot allow you to behave in such an ugly manner.  Please come in and get your spanking. (Now, before you think this is so harsh, remember that past experience causes me to believe that her screaming will escalate into a huge drawn-out long ordeal and my goal for the day is to take the kids swimming with their cousins.)
I give her two swats in a very calm neutral manner.
Me: Please go upstairs quietly and sit on your bed.

Tater screams.
Me: Tater, I cannot allow you to behave in such an ugly manner.  Please come in and get your spanking.
I give her two swats in a very calm neutral manner.
Me: Please go upstairs quietly and sit on your bed.

Tater: Stomps and kicks and scowls.
Me: Tater, I cannot allow you to behave in such an ugly manner. Please come in and get your spanking.
I give her two swats in a very calm neutral manner.
Me: Please go upstairs quietly and sit on your bed.

Tater goes upstairs quietly and sits on her bed.

Twenty minutes pass.  Nothing is thrown.  No mean words are shouted.  It is amazing.  Garbanzo is amazed.  I am amazed.

I call her down. I lavish her with praise and admiration for using her strength (she likes power, remember?) to go upstairs quietly and to sit on her bed.  I do a silly happy dance.  She giggles.  I hug her. Garbanzo high-fives her.  I lighten an unpleasant obligation that she is carrying for the day.  We eat breakfast together.  Life is good.

I know the spankings are so questionable.  I question them.  But in this instance, they were able to derail the Tantrum Train, so she could experience what it might be like to obey and please Mama and received positive energy and have a nice day.

I like the train analogy.  If she is on a speeding run-away out-of-control train heading for wreck, and I can shove her off the train, I'll do it.

Right now she is pleasant and helpful and singing.

the one more

What do you do about this pattern?

Parent: Don't do xyz.
Child does one more xyz and shoots a saucy look.

Tater does this every time.  EVERY TIME.

and what I did about it

Okay, here is what I did. If you think I am a dreadful mother you may be right. Please let me know and also let me know what time you will pick the kids up for a stay at your house. I'll have them all packed. Bring them back in a month and I'll make tea and you can tell me all about how horrible I am.

So, I analyzed Tater's tantrums. They pretty much include these elements:

• say as many mean things as you can think off.
• take whatever yucky feeling you have in your heart and spread it around on as many people as possible.
• completely ignore other people's requests to modify the behavior.
• in fact, use those requests as a trigger to escalate the behavior.
• get completely absorbed in yucky feelings and try to make other people get involved in them.
• be really mean and scream at other people when they come near.
• ruin meals, mornings, outings, whatever, by acting out whenever the feeling strikes.

Well it just so happened that I had a whole boat-load of yucky feelings on hand.  So out-the-blue I just started being really mean.  Really mean.  Hard looks and hard voices and hard words.  I didn't say every mean thing I could think of, but I said mean things.  I made a point of making everyone around me miserable.  I shouted at Garbanzo when he solicitously asked me what was wrong.  I stomped around grumbling about how ill-treated I was and how unfair everything was. (Now I have done this before as role-plays and they knew I was role-playing and giggled. No giggling this time.)  When they crossed paths with me I groused louder and with a more ferocious looks and harsher words.

Basically I scared the socks off them.

And then I asked Tater if my behavior was appropriate.  No.
Was my behavior selfish? Yes.
I was having big yucky feelings and making sure that everyone else in the house felt as yucky as I did, was this okay? No.
I might feel this way 3-5 times a day and I was going to handle it this way each time. Please don't.
Why not? It's not right.

Yes, Tater, I agree. It's not right.  It's not right if I am 46 and it's not right if I am 9.

And then I went and apologized to Garbanzo.

I just asked her to write down what she learned this morning.  She wrote:

I lund that I should not have fits and if I bo then Mom will be lick me.
I learned that I should not have fits and if I do then Mom will be like me.

I thought it interesting how quickly she recognized who I was copying.

how is it going, really?

I am defeated. I wake up in the morning DREADING seeing my children. Tater's rages and defiance and horribleness makes planning for anything pleasant or lovely a waste of time.

I'm turning into a cold person. I hear so much sobbing and wailing on a daily basis that even when it is legitimate, I don't care. I have nothing left to give. I just want to run away.

We rarely make it to breakfast without a confrontation that includes at least an hour of her screaming how much she hates me.

And I am supposed to be the grown-up here. I'm supposed to maintain the Deborah Gray attitude of gentle, attentive, curious, kind and so on. I fail. I am not gentle or attentive. My current posture is defensive.

Code Names

I'm searching for new code names for the kids. I'd like them to be soupy themed. Any ideas? My going idea is Mac for him and Cheese for her. I've settled on Garbanzo and Tater.

so much to say

I think a great part of my unhappiness has been not being able to talk on this blog. I couldn't tell you about the fire-setting. I couldn't share about ALL the lying and the stealing and the rest.

A family of home-schoolers moved in up the street with kids the age of my kids, so I began to worry about the local community having too much information about my kids.  But keeping it all in has really dragged me down. I need you guys.

I'm moving the TMI posts over from the old blog, so don't be surprised if it looks like reruns here.  I'm deleting them from there.