Sarah of shutterbug mama kindly organized an outing last night to see Adele Faber. Adele Faber (if you don’t already know) is a parenting guru and author of the books, How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk, and Siblings Without Rivalry (amongst others). Since G and I already owned How to Talk…, we were eager to get out and see her. (Btw, you know that things are a’changin’ when you take a night out not to go on a romantic date, but to learn how to be a BETTER PARENT.)

Adele was totally engaging. I have read parts of her book, but I know it’s time to visit it again. I try not to be that parent who pushes my ideas on other parents (try being the operative word), but I truly do believe in her philosophy and have seen a difference in myself and the kids — when I can actually control myself enough to apply her methods.

One of my biggest fears is becoming a nagging parent. I know that nagging gets me nowhere except in the company of two annoyed kids and quite honestly, an annoyed parent as I completely annoy myself while doing it. One of Adele Faber’s suggestions is, instead of nagging your child about something you want them to do — e.g. “Pick your jacket up off the floor! How many times have I told you not to leave your jacket there?” — to instead use just one word. Firmly. “Jacket!”

Truly, it sounds so simplistic, but we have done this for the past year or so and the kids respond like freakin’ robots! We could be on our way out the door, late for something (as always) and they are yukking it up, taking their time. All I have to say is: “Bean, hat! …Buddy, shoes!” They will continue to talk while automatically reaching for their hat or shoes.

She also explained how bad threats can be, which shoots my post the other day out the window. Her point: your kids might learn to only do with threats, and when they are older, may try and achieve things by threatening things themselves. I knew that my threats went nowhere the other day, and feared that I was numbing them to my threats anyway, so I’m willing to try anything else.

Her message is to listen to your kids and their emotions, and to acknowledge their feelings; not to negate them or put them down. Example: “That hurts.” “Oh, that doesn’t hurt, don’t be a baby!”

Of course, there’s a limit to it all and sometimes what they do is just going to piss you off and you are going to react… all normal. You need them to feel comfortable expressing their emotions, but you need to be able to express your own too.

It’s all very Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus, to be honest (if you’re familiar with that one). And at times, a little too touchy-feely. But I suspect that is because I am not used to it, and my first instinct is to parent them the way I was parented: Get over it. Stop behaving like a baby. You are better than that. You need to be more responsible. Stop crying. You’re wrong and too young to understand.

Etc.

No wonder I have so many issues. Love my parents — they were wonderful and I had a normal, dysfunctional childhood just like everyone else — and I try not to blame my issues on them while taking responsibility for my insecurities, but I want to avoid as many therapy-inducing problems with my own kids as I can. Also, I know that I want them to be able to come to me when they are not only feeling happy, but sad, pissed off, angry, depressed, etc. and not worry that I will downplay their emotions.

Anyway, it’s a great book, easy to read (it has cartoons!), and is very, very helpful. I truly do think every parent can benefit from it.

(I swear I’m not benefiting at all from this write-up. Just offering up a helpful book to anyone who is looking for a different way to communicate with their child(ren). And she has a book for teens too!)

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In other news… from the mouths of babes: (I’m sure these will not be entertaining to everyone, but too bad. This is my blog and you can skip it if you want.)

Buddy: “Mom, you can pick out my underwear but I want to pick out my socks, okay?”
Me: “Okay, no problem.”
Buddy: “Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it. I really appreciate you to let me pick out my socks.”

Either G or Me addressing Buddy on the toilet: “Are you done pooping?”
Buddy, holding up four fingers while pushing: “No, I have four left.” Lovely. Anyone else have this fantastic ability to predict the quantity of shit they have remaining? (Once, he told me he had something like 28 left! Yeah, we were waiting awhile for that episode to complete itself.)

Bean, coming out of her room after a nap with a headband on: “Mom, do I look beautiful?”
Bean, after trying on her ballet gear (yes, I caved, leave me alone and didn’t you just read what I wrote about consequences?): “Mom, I LOVE myself.”
Bean, looking at herself in the mirror and smiling: “I look great!”

As G said, at least she won’t be in therapy blaming us for her lack of self-esteem. LAWD.

Buddy, talking to Bean about who-knows-what: “Are you kidding me, Bean? ARE. YOU. KIDDING. ME??” Bean, meanwhile, is nodding her head matter-of-factly. So curious to know what the hell this very serious subject was about. Alas, I shall never know…

Buddy: “S*X!… S*X!… Ssss… eeeee… xxxxx…” Trying to sound out six so he can write it in his little notepad while we wait outside of Bean’s ballet class WITH THE OTHER PARENTS. Somehow, he manages to spell it with an i instead of an e despite his phonetic misdirection, while I too-loudly pronounce, “Yes! I! Siiiix.… Iiih. Iiiiiiiiih…” lest anyone think I teach my kids to randomly yell out S*X in the company of strangers.

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We are lazy about changing the CDs in our car so we have The Beatles (and after American Idol lately, I’m seriously Beatled-out), Bob Marley, and other ever-so-mellow random artists (but no Old Macdonald singers) on constant rotation. Who knew kids could pick up lyrics so quickly? These are the lines I hear sung around the house at random times:

“Buf-fa-lo Shoul-der…”

“Stir It Up” has been sung as, “Syy-rup,” and “Ce-re-al.” Then Buddy and I had a debate about “Stir It Up.” He insisted it was, “STEER It Up.” And honestly, I had to give it up. How do you teach a 4-year-old about Jamaican accents?

“Get up, Stand up. Stand up for your rights. Get up, Stand up. Don’t get up a fight!”

“Iiiii… look at all the lonely people…”

“You say yes. I say no…”

“Why. She. Had to go, I don’t know, she wouldn’t say…”

“Get back, Jo Jo!”

“Come ToGETHer. Right now. Obuh dee.”

And suddenly, they know almost all the words to “Hey Jude” and “Yesterday.” One day, after “Hey Jude,” Buddy asked, “Why is he so sad?” Uhhhh…

They also like to ask us who sings what. There is nothing funnier to a 4-year-old than the fact that there’s a band called Cake and hey, they love Eminems! They ask all about U2, The Fugees, Guster (”That’s a silly name!”), Aimee Mann… “Who is this Cake? Aimee — is she a boy or a girl? Mom, what does Fugees mean? U2? Me too? This isn’t me, Mom! (In a 4-year-old version of, ‘Who’s On First?’) Who–? What–? Why–?…”

Ack! I don’t know! Just listen to the damn song.

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Apologies for the ALL CAPS situation in the comments. Apparently that was a PC Explorer thing. Should be all good now. Thanks for the heads up, Tracey!

Sorry about the long post too. And I thought I was doing so well…