The Plight Of The All-Noing Parent

No. Nope. Negative. Nuh uh. Not gonna happen. Absolutely not. O, let me count the ways I tell my kids they can’t have or do something. In short, I say “no” A LOT.

I’ve heard a good amount of conflicting information about the impact of saying “no” to children. Now, I don’t think anyone would argue the need to stop a child from stepping into the street or touching a hot pan on the stove. There’s a good deal of discourse, though, about the right and wrong ways to respond when our children ask for (or demand) time, attention, or toys, or are behaving in a way that needs to be stopped.

While one expert expounds on the necessity of parents asserting authority and reinforcing firm boundaries, another warns of the devastatingly negative impact to a child’s self-esteem of denying kids their thoughts, opinions, and desires. As with many other philosophies in the parenting world, I feel like we are set up to feel guilty no matter where we stand on the issue.

Just in my circle of family and friends, I see divergent beliefs. Some parents work very hard to avoid saying “no” to their children. These parents aren’t pushovers, but they believe there is something inherently damaging about the word. They distract their toddler when they see the telltale gleam in her eye when staring at the dog’s food or when she’s demanding chips for dinner. They are quick to praise good deeds as a way to elicit only good behavior. And, they ask their kids why they want to do or have whatever it is they are asking for in order to understand the child’s point of view. The child eventually tires of the conversation and moves on to something else.

I also know parents who seem afraid to say no to their kids. They worry their children won’t love them if they are constantly denying them, stating life is too short not to experience simple and inconsequential joys. These parents are usually the same ones who appease their children in order to avoid anything “ugly” in front of other people. As long as the kids get what they want, there is no crying, whining time outs, etc.

Still others feel like “no” is almost an automatic response no matter the question. My husband and I fall into this category. We know we should be in charge and entered parenthood prepared for that authoritative job. We even knew our precious offspring would try to manipulate us – that’s what kids do – and we were poised and ready for the challenge. What we weren’t prepared for was all the gray area, blurred lines, and being so very tired! Lately we’ve been wondering whether our “nos” are always necessary or whether we sometimes take the easy way out instead of doing our kids justice by thinking critically about each situation.

I am not a parenting expert; I’m simply a parent trying to do right by my kids and stay sane in the process. I believe in positive reinforcement and parenting from a place of love and acceptance. I also think saying “no” is absolutely necessary. I believe this is the first step to teaching my children how to say “no” to themselves and others when something isn’t right – socially, morally, or legally. Down the road, when they are faced with life’s temptations, I want them to be able to use their own “no.” I try to remember that today’s second cookie quickly and easily turns into tomorrow’s far riskier choice. Continue reading The Plight Of The All-Noing Parent

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“What the Debates Say About America” and How I Respond as an American

Dallas Caldwell, one of our contributors at the Red Dirt Chronicles, is my former boss. I was attending grad school when he accepted a position as the new headmaster where I was teaching. I always appreciated his ability to tell a story, but years later gained an appreciation for his ability to write and share his thoughts.

That’s why, when he writes about literature or something philosophical, I generally check it out. And tonight, I’m glad I did.

Dallas was sharing information on his Facebook about a post written by Kevin DeYoung over the presidential debates.  The quote was the full text of point number six from DeYoung’s analysis over the “13,000 Republican debates” and the public’s reaction to them.

He writes about the communication factor, the “horse race style” coverage, what American’s value in their candidates…but then negate, why negative attacks are vilified but work, the sin and values we’re willing to tolerate, and…our inconsistencies:

6. The debates over the past months, and the election in general, exposes a number of inconsistencies about Americans.

  • We want to be rich and want politicians who will promise to make us richer. But we don’t like our politicians themselves to be wealthy.
  • We want candidates to give straight answers and not dodge hard questions. But when they give specific answers to hard questions their answers will be ridiculed as dull or will be held against them.
  • We want our leaders to be super confident, super competent, and super intelligent. But we hate elites.
  • We want the president to be one of us and above us and unlike us at the same time.
  • We want someone to be an effective executive in the labyrinth of legislative, judicial, bureaucratic, military, and diplomatic tasks that face the modern President. But we also want him to be a complete outsider with no experience in how any of that works.
  • We want politicians unsullied by the real life tradeoffs, lobbyists, and interest groups of politics. But what they are like in the rest of life doesn’t really concern us. They can compromise in everything but politics.

As I worked down the bullet points a knot began to form in my stomach, then tighten, then wrench at my psyche – tugging as though it were in a man-of-war game for the core of how I consider information during a presidential campaign.

Yes, yes, yes. Check, check…cripes. Check again.

I finished the list, then did the only thing I knew to do.  I processed.  I processed this information that provided a moment of introspection by thinking it over a couple of times, sharing it with my husband and then? Sharing it with you.

Good luck with that.

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On the Horizon: Oklahoma’s Native Son

He remains one of America’s favorite people. Years after his death, Will Rogers is still living strong in spirit. The town of Claremore remembers this brilliant man with a museum, a college, and even a street named Will Roger’s Blvd.

In this week’s video blog, we tour the Will Roger’s Memorial and Museum and discover all things Will Rogers.
~Courtenay Dehoff

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Not-So-Newlyweds: The Fearsome Double Date

 

Game of Life

I had never been on a blind date until I got married.

So here’s how it goes. You have a friend, and he/she has a significant other, and you think to yourself, hey, let’s all be friends!

It doesn’t necessarily work that way.

What inevitably happens (to us) is that I like her, and Luke thinks he could be friends with him, but as a couple, we’re not feeling the magic. The ever-so-subtle “let’s get out of here” signal is waving long before the waiter asks whether we want dessert. (No, thank you. Just the check, please, and quick.)

So we’ve had some struggles finding couple friends to spend time with. It’s almost like dating again, except that we plan together. “What if they don’t like the restaurant?” “Oh my goodness, what should we wear?” (That’s me, not Luke.) “Did they like us?” “Should we reciprocate their invitation?”

In our early coupledom, we were exhausted by this process, having intentionally left the dating game behind. Then, for a long time, we couldn’t figure out where the people our age had gone. We went to a small church that didn’t have many young couples. We had graduated from college, and the bar scene isn’t our thing, so we didn’t look for friends there. Some of our closest friends lived “back home” and were inaccessible for a quick dinner and a movie. We were at a real loss about where married-but-no-kids-yet people who lived in a 20-mile radius were hiding.

Eventually, we found a church with a young couples’ class, and we thought, “There they are!” We made some friends, but by that point, we were all working and didn’t have much time for hanging out, and now they all have babies and really don’t have time to hang out.

Both of us were raised in a small town, where we learned to form solid and lasting friendships, not just casual acquaintances. It’s just the way it works “in the country.” If your neighbor’s car breaks down, you take him to the co-op to get it fixed. You don’t get dressed up to have a backyard cookout with friends, and that line between friends and family gets pretty blurry. That value got into us, so it’s not that we are picky about friends…we just know that when we form a friendship, we’re signing up for an addition to the family. It’s a commitment we don’t make lightly. Apps like the no signup sex app make meeting people who share those genuine, small-town values much easier and more natural.

So we have persevered through a few uncomfortable dinners because it’s worth it.

Just recently, one of my closest childhood friends and her husband moved to our town, and we have discovered that the “couple compatibility” factor is present with them, so for one of the first times in our marriage, we have couple friends who we can call on a moment’s notice and invite over to play board games in our sweatpants. Having that type of friendship reminds us that we’re not alone in our quest to succeed in marriage and life as a young couple. It provides encouragement that only a friend-turned-family can, and it helps to share life with someone else so we don’t sit in our house and forget there’s a world outside. And of course, the personality and differences of friends just adds to the adventure that can come of everyday life.

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Old Cell Phone Photos: The Philbrook, Chino Bags and Repurposing Fun




The day has not been forgotten by my SIM card.

Rather, there were smiles and emotions washing over my face to be had tonight in January, waiting for me since June. My SIM card had been holding them for me all along. Passed along from my Blackberry Bold, to my PC at work, to my external hard drive, to my Mac, and somehow synchronized back into my phone, I found this:

 

My RyeDye and I went to the Philbrook Museum of Art that day and were happily surprised to find a community “recycling clothes” project.

Loaned sewing machines, recycled buttons, lace, silk screening options, and a number of other treasures lined the tables that were set up in the middle of a room big enough to generate stellar echos.

We found a pair of heavy cotton chinos or pajama pants somewhere inside a mountain of donated clothing piled on the floor. We split them in half and each took one leg to create a bag.

Rylee used recycled buttons and lace, and inverted hers so the small opening was on top, thus producing a youthful, fun bag. It was easy, breezy, and so…her.

I kept simple lines, but cut long strips and braided them together for the handles, and visited the silk screening station.  I have a habit of being all Eddie Bauer or Talbots in many of my approaches. It’s a curse. I truly just don’t know what I would do with lace.  I could never pull it off because the weirdly uncomfortable look on my face would distract passers-by so that they would hardly notice that I had attempted to add notions and accents in the “frills” category.

Back to my bag. I placed a star where we live, and the three small red stones where Hubby’s mom, my parents and Rachel, Drew and Quentin live. (fyi – Rachel = eldest child; Drew = her Hubby, Quentin = my brother).

The Philbrook is a rocking museum. The event was perfect.  But my time spent with RyeDye, side by side on our respective Burnina’s, was a beautiful moment I won’t forget.

And my SIM card, obviously, is helping with that.

***

P.S.  That photo was taken on our drive, under an oak tree.  The locusts were humming and the blotching light patterns are preciously reminiscent of that hot summer day. I feel warm just looking at it again.

P.P.S.  I posted this photo on Facebook last summer, and got a short sweet message from my father.  He wrote, “I like being a small red stone.” I grinned when I read his tender-hearted note.  Dads can be really cool sometimes.

[kelly]

 

 

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