Praising Kids

Jennifer F linked to this article: How Not to Talk to Your Kids: The Inverse Power of Praise. As I started to read it, I figured it would be another quick article with a single line of advice for parents, and whatever that advice was would surely just add more angst and guilt and concern over whether I was doing everything just right. Thank goodness, for once, I read an article that didn’t advise me to tiptoe around my children’s delicate self-esteem lest I bruise it permanently.

This article is long – 5 pages online and 8 if you print it to read later. It doesn’t take huge studies and pages of conclusions and boil it down into one single concept either. Every page offered more interesting observations and suggestions.

Now, I warn you that there is a certain element of “this is the right way to do it” and “that way is bad” which makes parents check their natural instincts and question their ability to parent properly. Frankly, I’m tired of being held responsible for my children’s personalities and behavior. It’s bad enough that they themselves blame me for their missing shoes; I’ll not have society tell me that their success in life hinges about the manner in which I praise them.

However, as the person who needs to live with them all the time and teach them every year (not just deal with them for a year and pass them off to someone else), it is to my personal benefit to have children motivated to learn, confident in their abilities, and eager to tackle new challenges. And if this leads them to fame and fortune as adults, well, perhaps they might remember poor, old mom who sacrificed so much for them. Perhaps they could spare a slice of that Nobel Prize for Medicine money to get mom a token of their affection…like a Mercedes convertible. You never know.

I’ll not condense that long article into a single concept, but I would like to throw out a few of their ideas. The most important idea seemed to be that simply telling kids they are smart is counter-productive. Kids then assume smartness is a natural ability that doesn’t need to be worked. “Smart” kids will shy away from difficult lessons because if they were really smart they would “get it” right away. Instead, kids (and adults) need to have their efforts praised. This concept applies to all ages of people and for all things from academics to sports. “You’re a great ball player” doesn’t cut it. “That was a great play you made in the 3rd inning at 2nd base” is good praise.

Some of this is probably obvious for experienced parents, especially, I think, homeschoolers who are forced to deal with their kids for long periods of time. But we can all fall into the easy praise mode when pressed for time or tired. “You can do math” is that quick encouragement we throw out as we get a snack for another child or head upstairs to put the baby down for a nap. Better is it to praise their efforts. Children (and adults) need to understand that intelligence is something obtainable by hard work. The harder you work, the smarter you are. Natural ability only gets you so far. Algebra, perhaps, come naturally (I think so, but I’m a math geek)…calculus, I promise you, is only understood through effort.

All the way on page 4, the article discusses the trait of persistence. If you’ve ever had a persistent child, you will know how trying it is. We want persistent adults – but, oh! – they are difficult children to raise. Nonetheless, persistence in adults does not generally develop overnight.

But it turns out that the ability to repeatedly respond to failure by exerting more effort—instead of simply giving up—is a trait well studied in psychology. People with this trait, persistence, rebound well and can sustain their motivation through long periods of delayed gratification. Delving into this research, I learned that persistence turns out to be more than a conscious act of will; it’s also an unconscious response, governed by a circuit in the brain. Dr. Robert Cloninger at Washington University in St. Louis located the circuit in a part of the brain called the orbital and medial prefrontal cortex. It monitors the reward center of the brain, and like a switch, it intervenes when there’s a lack of immediate reward. When it switches on, it’s telling the rest of the brain, “Don’t stop trying. There’s dopa [the brain’s chemical reward for success] on the horizon.” While putting people through MRI scans, Cloninger could see this switch lighting up regularly in some. In others, barely at all.

I can definitely see how overly praising children leads to a lack of persistence. The moment that reward is gone, the effort ceases. Of course, praise only works exclusively when children are young. As they get older, they need tangible rewards: candy, food, toys, money. “If you get straight As, I’ll get you that laptop.” Praise and rewards are often very useful to get through difficult periods or to focus on a particular behavior (potty training is a prime example). Even adults use self-rewards (no snacking today and I’ll let myself have dessert tonight). But we don’t give candy to 10 year olds when they use the toilet. In fact, we don’t give candy to 2 year olds either if high-fives seem successful. At some point, we need to do things just because. We need to persist, because we want to succeed. And we need to want to succeed for our own sakes, and not to please parents or impress peers.

The Lord’s Day

It just doesn’t feel like Sunday. Bill left early this morning to fly to Alaska for the week – his last TDY trip with this job – and we went to Mass yesterday afternoon.

Usually around this time most Sunday mornings, I’m telling Fritz to comb his hair, yelling at Billy for still being in his pajamas, wondering how long Jenny will keep the pony-tail in her hair, cursing myself for not braiding Katie’s hair last night before bed as I struggle to remove the knots, asking Bill to find Petey’s shoes (I think I saw them in the laundry room…??), yelling at Billy again for not getting dressed, sending Fritz to help Jenny find her sandals, debating Cheerios or no Cheerios for Pete, book or no book for Pete, matchbox car or no matchbox car for Pete, getting the check and some quarters for the kids, shouting “Saddle Up!” which everyone understands to mean “Get in the car and buckle up NOW!”, and running upstairs to maybe put some lip gloss on while Bill buckles the younger ones up.

Instead, I’m typing at the computer, ignoring the announcement that Pete is stinky, and well aware that none of my kids are out of their PJs yet and only half have been fed. I even took a 20 minute nap after my shower while waiting for Pete to get up. If I didn’t just have to put two of them in separate time-outs for “accidentally” kicking someone twice in the span of ninety seconds (both the kicker and the kickee are being punished – why would you put your face in the vicinity of someone’s foot after that individual just kicked you in the back?), I might be convinced that Saturday evening Mass was the way to go all the time.

But then again, probably not. Despite the chaos of getting out the door, I really prefer to begin my Sunday mornings with Mass. Otherwise, it just seems like another ordinary day.

New Month’s Resolution for June

I am so glad it is finally June. May was a tough one.

Not that June will be much better! Next week is jam-packed, there is one long weekend we’ll be out of state, and then the movers come. Somehow, I’ve got to get this house organized, cleaned and pared down in between doctor’s appointments, parties and the Scout overnighter.

I could resolve to relax: take a few minutes every day to rest, have a cup of lemonade, read a book, maybe take a bath. Ain’t gonna happen. Recently I actually happened to be watching TV that wasn’t geared for preschoolers, and I saw a commercial for a drug for “restless leg” syndrome. First it showed a woman unable to fall asleep; next it showed the same woman, presumably having received an appropriate dosage, reclining on a lounge chair doing a crossword puzzle. I’m sure there are plenty of drugs (legal and illegal) that would give me a certain level of apathy enabling me to do a crossword puzzle this month. But my guess is that they’re not safe for pregnant women. Instead, I’ll just forget about taking it easy this month.

Besides my full plate, there is one thing I’d really like to do. Last Christmas I made stockings for soldiers and sold them for a handy profit. I have a ton of fabric remaining and would like to do it again this year. With the baby coming in October, there is no way I’d reasonably think I could do that in November. It must be done before the baby comes. If I do it in stages, it shouldn’t overwhelm my schedule, or so I theorize.

So this month, I am going to take that fabric and cut it into stockings shapes. That’s it. I think it’s only perhaps 4 or 5 hours of labor all told, but I’ll break it up into 20 or 30 minutes sessions. And with school finishing up today, the dining room table will be available at no inconvenience to anybody.

What is your new month’s resolution? Little goals only! Save the big goals for a new year; for a new month just pick one small thing that you want to do, and tell me about it.

Something for everyone

After my last post, my sister sent me a link to CafePress.com where you can search “pregnant” and have over 16 thousand different designs on 284,000 products displayed. If you like shirts with things written on them, this is the place to shop. I don’t agree with every sentiment, but the humor here was much better than the shirts found at Amazon.

There are shirts for expectant dads, expectant grandparents, expectant aunts and uncles, and expectant older siblings. There are shirts for “paper pregnancies” – those awaiting adoption (even expectant paper pregnancy grandparent shirts). There are pro-breastfeeding shirts, pro-homebirth shirts, pro-vegetarian shirts and other pro-whatever lifestyle shirts.

Some of my favorites (not necessarily that I would wear, but that I find amusing):

This Is What Happens When You Party Naked

Do Not Taunt the Cranky Pregnant Woman

Does This Baby Make Me Look Fat?

Yes, Actually, I Did Swallow a Watermelon
Watermelon Smuggler
No words on this one, just a funny graphic

It’s Not Over Until the Fat Lady Screams (for dads)

My Husband Came Home From Afghanistan, and All I Got Was Pregnant
See What Deployment Does

I Am Not a Budda, Do Not Rub My Belly
Back Away From the Bump
Hands Off the Belly

Yes, I’m Pregnant. It’s a Boy/Girl. I’m Due in May/June/July.

Yes, I’m Pregnant Again. Yes, I Know What Causes It. No, I Don’t Have Too Many.

What Happens in Las Vegas Doesn’t Always Stay in Las Vegas

I’m Pregnant…What’s Your Excuse?

Designated Driver (aka Knocked Up)

Maternity T-Shirts I Won’t be Wearing

Cris kindly recommended the Bella Band, an item I think I’m going to have to get for now and for later. It would be nice to have more than, say, two pairs of pants that fit me at any given moment.

While browsing Amazon, they had all sorts of links to maternity t-shirts that just may interest someone who would be buying a Bella Band. Somebody…but not me. Let’s see…

Knocked Up (and the model looks really happy about it too)

Contraception Malfunction (I guess because there’s no way she’d ruin that hot bod willingly)

Oops! I Did It Again (So sorry, world, I didn’t mean to have another baby)

Pregnant (Not Fat) (I do sympathize, but it just seems so vain to have to announce it like that. I prefer having my kids say it – and they do.)

Morning Sickness: Making Hangovers Seem Pleasant (In other words: I’m not fat, I’m pregnant)

Not Pregnant: Just Had a Baby (In other words: I’m not pregnant, I’m fat – I don’t need this one because I think the newborn glued to snuggled at my breast 24/7 says it for me)

Budda Belly: Rub My Belly For Good Luck (But I would like one that says: Warning: Raging hormones may make this pregnant woman slug you in the face if you dare touch any part of her overly sensitive body even if you happen to be 6 years old and flesh of her flesh)

Coming This Fall (This is actually kind of cute, but what if the next baby is due in the spring? Just not very practical.)

Future MILF (I had to look this term up – I’m so behind the times. And I’m really not, uh, crass (?) enough to wear that.)

Sex Ed Dropout (Ooo, and proud of it!)

And my favorite: the mudflap girl (you know, the one you see on tractor-trailers) with a big belly (ye-haw)

Here are a few that I might consider:

Highly Emotional (a nice reminder to that husband is who is so used to your big belly he forgets about those dangerous hormones that threaten your sanity)

Fertile Goddess (but the woman in the photo doesn’t look pregnant, just well endowed)

Made Love Not War (Yes! Need this for my next sit-in!)

And these are too political for me, but I admire the strong women who would dare admit that it takes a man and a woman to have a baby, or that the blob of tissue growing inside is really a boy or a girl.

Today’s agenda

More vomiting, so more laundry and hair holding and the spraying of Lysol. I feel like I’m blogging about vomiting a lot. (I’d link, but that’s too much work.) I feel like everybody else is blogging about vomiting too. (Again, I’d link, but that’s work, and you know who you are anyway.)

It’s Katie this time. In her bed. I pulled everything out and half of it is in the washing machine right now. Her room still stinks, and I want to faint when I walk by it. I don’t know what I missed, but it will have to wait until Jenny wakes up.

I don’t know why, but my kids seems compelled to wake me up between the hours of 3 and 4 am recently. I can’t get back to sleep after that. Today, unlike yesterday, my afternoon is clear, so my top priority for later just may be taking a nap. No, I mean my top priority definitely is taking a nap.

I’d rather shop for a bathing suit…

…than shop for maternity clothes.

I do have some maternity clothes, but they all look so BIG. I’ve been avoiding them. One by one, my regular clothes had either become too small or just looked plain ridiculous on me. So, I would dig into my big purple bin where I store a variety of clothes for every season in sizes ranging from 6 to 16 (because after gaining 45 pounds with every pregnancy, I do wear a size 16, even if it’s only for a month or so) and would pull out another, bigger size (but still not maternity), and would manage for a little bit longer.

But last week, my choices were diminishing in the summer fashions. Even Bill’s clothes were too tight in the waist (why did I fall in love with a skinny man?) or too big in the shoulder making me look like…I was wearing my husband’s clothes. If it were fall, I think I could go another month or so, but with lightweight clothing, I was left with a stack of maternity clothes that I just couldn’t bear to wear yet.

Besides being too big, they are old, too. I don’t think any of them were bought new by me. And I’ve had most of them with every pregnancy, so I estimated that they are mostly at least ten years old. I’m not big into following the latest fashions and hottest trends, but…I do like to look decent. I really do want to avoid looking dowdy.

Bill came home at a reasonable hour on Friday, and I took advantage of this to head to the mall alone. I think I tried on every outfit in the store. First, I put on a pair of khaki capri pants and a maroon, empire waist knit top (the kind even non-pregnant women seem to be wearing nowadays). I looked in the mirror and with a depressed and exasperated internal voice remarked that I just.looked.so.pregnant.

To which the intelligent, practical, common-sense woman buried deep within that prideful, vain, emotional basket case staring at the mirror responded, “Duh! You are pregnant!”

And then I laughed at myself and stopped focusing on not looking pregnant and instead on looking attractive.

You know, like a well-dressed hippo.

Most ludicrous is the bald-faced lie these stores tell pregnant women: buy your pre-pregnancy size. Yeah, right. Most first-time moms probably go shopping when they are barely showing. They put that tiny pillow under the clothes and think they look so cute. They go home with a nice collection of things that will work for that season. By the time the weather changes, those clothes are getting really tight and uncomfortable, but it doesn’t matter because they need new things for the new season anyway.

I bought size mediums, which is basically what I would be wearing if I weren’t pregnant. But I know that by August, they will be stretched to the max. That’s OK. I’ve got those BIG clothes just waiting for me. I’m set.

And as if to prove that new clothing “makes” a woman, an old friend drove down on Saturday morning from Pennsylvania to spend the weekend. Her kids came into the house, but she was loitering at the car collecting a few necessities. I walked out to greet her, and when she turned around, she looked surprised. “Oh, you look so skinny! I thought you’d be bigger by now!”

Dear, dear friend, I can’t wait to see you again next month!

Tasty Tuesday

Since I’m moving halfway across the country in one month, I’m trying to use up things lingering in my freezer, refrigerator and pantry. Recently I’d been eyeing a second bag of frozen cranberries that I had gotten “just in case” for Thanksgiving dinner and never used. I found a recipe online, altered it a bit to avoid another trip to the grocery store, and made this yummy Cranberry Almond Bread. I’m eating the last of the first loaf right now for breakfast. The other loaf is in the freezer, and I’m debating whether to eat it all myself or share the love.

Angie is hosting the Tasty Tuesday recipe exchange blog party. She’s even offering a prize to a random winner if you participate! Stop on over and check out the other recipes.

Justice and forgiveness

I wholly applaud this man’s forgiveness of the drunken driver who killed half his family.

I also wholly applaud the humble and contrite way in which the driver seems to be dealing with the mess he made: pleading guilty, apologizing, recognizing that his words are hollow, expressing gratitude to the man who forgives him.

And I wholly applaud the judge who sentenced the man to 10 years despite the victim’s apparent belief that the man should go free.

The prosecutor’s argument for sentencing:

“In this situation the state must look beyond the feelings only of the individuals who are most directly impacted by this event,” Fisher told the judge. “Society has an interest in what is done beyond the feelings of the victims.”

Forgiveness should not mean walking away from justice. This is not one man’s crime against another man. This is one man’s crime against society by breaking its laws. He owes society a debt that must be repaid, and we have chosen prison time as an acceptable punishment (which I prefer to hanging, or flogging). I would hope that I could be as forgiving as the victim in this case. But I would also expect and desire justice, which is a concept greater than one individual is capable of meting in this situation.