Discipline: The Creative Part of Parenting

From the very beginning, Andrew and I have tried EVERYTHING. We have spanked, given time outs, made them stand with noses in the corner - everything.

I'm talking about punishments.

That nose in the corner one did nothing but elicit snickers from the child being punished. Won't do that a second time.

Andrew and I became parents without having a firm game-plan for how to discipline our kids. We just kinda figured we'd wait for something to happen before we decided what to do. The reality is, you can't have a game-plan until you know who you're dealing with.

And you don't know who you're dealing with until your kid starts doing their thing. So about the time your kid turns two, you'll know who he is and how best to handle him.

I've learned that no matter what form of discipline you choose, follow through is the most important part. You can't count to three, (without ever actually getting to three), and expect a toddler to take you seriously.

And maybe I'm just impatient, but I never have liked that counting to three business. Not only have I never seen anyone arrive at the dreaded number, but why in the world would I want to give my kid to the count of three to decide whether or not to obey me? When I tell them to do something, I want them to do it NOW. Not after I count to three using every fraction I can on the way there.

When I was little, my sister and I got caught jumping on our beds. My dad told us not to jump on the beds several times until finally he had had enough and said that if we jumped on them one more time he was going to throw them out the window.

We jumped again.

And what could my dad do? He brought in his tools, took apart our beds and chucked each piece out the window. My sister and I were left to sleep on the floor.

We never jumped on our beds again. Ever.

So there you have it! All you have to do is mean what you say. If you tell your child he can't go to Tommy's birthday party if he continues to pick on his sister, and sister continues to get picked on, you have to have the guts to break your kid's heart and teach him that you expect his obedience.

But that's easier said than done, isn't it?

It stinks to punish our kids. We've all heard the phrase, "This hurts me more than it hurts you," right before we felt a swat to our bottoms. I really didn't believe that until I was the parent.

I have always been a fan of making the punishment fit the crime. If my kids are hurling insults at each other and I can't take listening to them scream, "Butt-licker!", one more time, I make them stand facing one another and compliment each other until they are laughing together. If someone leaves their dishes on the table and a smaller person comes along and hurls their cereal bowl against the wall, then the dish-leaver gets to clean up the mess, and they may as well mop the entire floor while they're at it.

You get the idea - right?

Well, over the past several weeks, my two oldest boys have been making me so crazy with their constant whining and bickering that I have ground all my teeth down to nubs and pulled all but three of my hairs out. I felt like I need to be tossed into a padded room and left for a few days.

I had tried everything to get them to be pleasant. They spent a lot of time alone in their rooms, but all that did was give them quiet time to come up with better insults and more things to complain about. I tried passing out additional chores, but those were never done to my satisfaction and whining continued for the duration. I tried distracting them with ideas of things to do. They turned them all down. I even tried whining right back at them and telling them how miserable they were making me. Turns out that whining breeds more whining.

So finally, one day this last week, Andrew saw me on the verge of another mental breakdown courtesy of our eldest children, and he employed one of the standard punishments from his own childhood. And it was gooooood!

Andrew kicked the kids outside to run laps around the house. If they were going to make our lives miserable, he was going to return the favor. Cameron ran until he was crying in pain from the stitch in his side, and Ethan worked up a respectable sweat.

When they had each completed their assigned laps, they came back inside and behaved like completely different children. Well, once Cameron stopped crying, anyway. They had learned that making our home unpleasant was going to result in feeling unpleasant themselves. It was raining and cold outside - it was not good weather for running. (When is it, really?)

Our home has been a peaceful haven ever since we began this ritual. We've only had to do it one additional time, and we got even better results after that one. It was like giving them a personality transplant.

So now, all we have to say to get the kids to behave is, "Do you know where your shoes are?"

Score one for the parents.