My favorite parenting book is called Brain Rules for Baby. I think maybe I’ve written about it before; I happen to be pretty obsessed with it. The book is written by a brilliant scientist named John Medina, and I had the pleasure of hearing him speak shortly after Scarlett’s birth.
Among the observations and research that Dr. Medina shared was this (completely heterosexually oriented) idea that if a dad wants to have a happy and successful child, he must treat the mother of that child as though she is a queen. I recall reading this part of the book out loud to Rob before our baby was born, but he didn’t seem all that moved by it, and I have to say I’m not sure he’s ever treated me like royalty. Unless you count his treating me like a royal pain in the ass, in which case yes, he does do that. But not without reason.
Dr. Medina also talks about the most successful method of parenting, which he describes as “warm but demanding.” I like that, and I’ve strived striven strove worked to enact it in my raising of Scarlett. But it doesn’t always pan out correctly, because while I can usually remember the demanding part, when she is not listening and is being particularly difficult, I often forget to be warm.
We’re going through a bit of a rough patch lately, although as I write that I realize that it doesn’t take into account all of the good times, all of the sweet times, all of the times that we have a conversation that leaves me slightly in awe of this little person who is growing before my eyes. However, that same little person is desperate to do exactly what she wants when she wants in a way that usually involves the dog and is just incredibly incredibly annoying. I often tell myself in my own head that if I weren’t in a wheelchair, if I didn’t have ALS, that things would be so different. But I know my healthy parent counterparts can get just as frustrated with their own children. Kids, if my own is any indication, can be real jerks.
But ALS adds more to our story. I can ask Scarlett to do something, but I can’t help her with it or show her how I’d like it done. If it goes wrong, I can’t clean it up or fix it. I have to ask someone else to do that. So I get upset, not necessarily with her, but with the fact that I can’t do the things that I believe any mom should be able to do.
I’m not trying to be hard on myself, just honest. I definitely do my coldly demanding parenting in front of other people, and I think that it can be surprising to them. I have very high expectations for my daughter, because I’ve seen her meet them. But I also know that she is still a young kid and that I should be more flexible in certain situations. I know this, but that doesn’t make it any easier when she is flailing her arms around after I’ve asked her to be aware of her body, and a glass of milk goes flying, and I can’t just calmly and quietly help her wipe it up. When I snap at her, I sometimes think it is so the person who does have to clean it up knows that I don’t take what they’re doing for granted. Spilled milk is definitely no big deal. But aren’t we all a little tougher on our kids when we sense that other people are being inconvenienced?
When she was younger, even when things were difficult with her behavior, I handled it better because I knew that I could. That we were in it together, and that I was guiding her. I was being warm, but also teaching her what was expected in our family. And now, what am I teaching her? That we cry when we get frustrated? That we lash out at other people when we are feeling helpless? These are terrible lessons, ones that I’m sure Brain Rules for Baby would not recommend.
On the other hand, being coldly demanding does strike me as something a Queen might do during her reign. Maybe I’ll just go with that, and stop apologizing. Will someone please hand me a scepter? Actually, just stand over there and hold it. We’ll all know it’s mine.
