Oh the irony - a post about haircuts and spankings

My Mom and Dad went to New York this weekend to be present at the very, very small wedding of my Dad's cousin, Johnny. It was so small, that with the addition of my parents, the total people present at the wedding - including the bride and groom and pastor -- was 5.

On the way back, Dad and Mom stopped at our house for breakfast. Lester made pancakes from scratch. I made cinnamon apples. We ate until we were stuffed, and sat around the table talking about the latest NFL scandal involving a football player who "disciplined' his 4-year-old by beating him with a switch until he tore the skin and left marks that were visible three days later. This turned into a debate about spanking vs. not spanking.

While we were debating, the kids were entertaining themselves, sometimes watching TV, sometimes playing with toys, sometimes running through the house making a lot of noise. We pretty much ignored them, because we keep trying not to hover quite so much -- "benign neglect" for their benefit and ours. And the discipline debate was pretty passionate, so we also kinda forgot about them. (Just being honest.)

And then Dean decided to play barber shop and cut two huge chunks out of the side and back of Clair's hair:

This is more hair than it looks like, because her hair is so tightly coiled. Today, my poor daughter has a combover -- a look she will be rocking for many months to come.

I posted this status message on Facebook about it:

Parents and grandparents downstairs at the breakfast table, passionately debating old school vs. new school ways of disciplining children. To make the discussion less hypothetical, my helpful boy decides to cut huge chunks out of Clair's hair. Grandparents leave after breakfast -- smug.

Which makes the irony of it all seem kinda funny. Oh, kids -- they sure have good timing. Ha. Ha. Ha. And I suppose I can see how at a certain point, it will be funny. But believe me, as I combed through her hair and more and more curls kept coming out into my hand, I was almost in tears.

Here's my dirty little secret: I wanted to spank Dean. I really did. I wanted to yell and scream and really punish him. I felt like he needed to know how serious what he did was. I could totally identify with that parental urge to make him understand his crime, and instill in him a fear of repercussions that would make him never, ever do that again.

But I didn't --WE didn't, Lester and I. Instead, we made him go to his room and lie down - separated from us, his grandparents, the TV and the cinnamon apples. He stayed there for three and a half hours (he fell asleep).


If I had not just been arguing with my parents about my belief that we can raise our children to be well-behaved, respectful and good decision makers without spanking them, would I have chosen that way of punishing him? I think I would. I hope I would. And here's why:

Aside from the obvious arguments about respecting a child's personhood, and about the hypocrisy of teaching children not to hit when we, ourselves, him them, I just don't believe in my heart of hearts that spankings work. I think they make children fearful, yes, but not of the thing parents hope. In fact, I think they only serve to make them fear YOU.

I don't want Dean to fear me. What I want is for him to learn to better regulate his impulses. I want him to try harder to remember that scissors are for cutting paper and paper only. And that he is not supposed to even handle scissors when an adult is not around. We've told him these things many times, but I believe this kind of learning takes place over time -- not by dealing a swift blow to knock it out of him once and for all.

I don't want my children to fear me. I want them to love, respect and trust me.  And that won't happen if they think I will hurt them.

Cary, Dean and Clair: I will not hurt you, my littlest loves. I will love you and guide you and teach you and, yes, discipline you. I will make mistakes, that is a guarantee. But I will try my absolute hardest not to ever hurt you. Even when you do ridiculously stupid things like CUT YOUR SISTER'S HAIR, WHICH TOOK THREE FRIKKIN' YEARS TO GET LONG ENOUGH FOR ME TO ACTUALLY STYLE!!!

P.S. Later we found out that Cary was in on the cutting game too; he snipped a little bit of fabric out of Clair's prettiest pink tutu. (Clair was far more upset about that than she was about her hair). By the time the full story unfolded, I was too tapped out from having to put my money where my mouth was to really grasp what happened. Thankfully, Lester had his wits about him and sent Cary to bed too. So when the boys woke up at 3:30, they both had missed lunch. It was too early for dinner, and they both wanted snacks. But I held my ground and didn't give them anything, and I patiently explained why: They missed lunch because they had to go to bed while the rest of us ate, because they both did something very bad. And now they had to wait until dinner to eat. Let me tell you -- this was probably the best punishment I could ever have dreamed up. These kids love to eat -- snacks especially! So I think they got the message. I hope so anyway.

I didn't have to spank them; their little growling bellies were pain and suffering enough!

New York Sittay!! Whazzup?!

The Davis Family took on New York City this weekend, and lived to tell the tale! Whazzup!

I had a work meeting at the Ford Foundation on Friday. So the whole crew and I took the Amtrak up to NY on Thursday night. The kids LOVED, LOVED, LOVED the train. They also were psyched that I made them little fun bags -- with their cute backpacks we'd never used! So they had lots of fun things to do on the train, including the most fun thing of all, which is to talk really, really loudly so that everyone for two cars in front and behind can hear!

Clair is at a stage where she refuses to keep her socks on. That's why my child is barefoot in 30-degree weather.

Trying to minimize the amount of equipment we had to lug around, Lester and I made a tactical error. We took Clair's Snap N Go, but didn't take the boys' double stroller. By Saturday, after they'd gotten used to the city a bit, this was not a problem. But Thursday night, trying to get up out of Penn Station -- Lordhavemercy. It was challenging to say the least. The boys were equal parts fascinated and scared to death, which made them extremely, extremely slow and also - oddly - more obstinate. They would sometimes refuse to move, which is not a good idea in a place as crowded and chaotic as Penn Station, and even worse when one's hands are full with tons of luggage, a baby stroller and other stuff. Not having the stroller also made it very difficult for Lester to get out and about with them in the morning on Friday when I was at my meeting. So he could really only take them to a late breakfast near the hotel and then come back for a nap. It seemed New York was going to beat us!

This is how my boys looked - and felt - for the first half of the trip. Totally overwhelmed. I can't blame them. New York still overwhelms me sometimes.

But...after that, we hit our NYC stride! I got back from my meeting and we bundled up, hopped in a cab and went over to Rockefeller Center, to see the Christmas tree and the skating rink, both of which were huge hits. We then met up with my friend Sumathi -- who works at the Wall Street Journal just a few blocks away -- and went to dinner at a great Chinese restaurant nearby. The boys ate chicken fried rice and broccoli and enjoyed playing with the chopsticks and drinking water out of the teacups. They were really well-behaved and I was totally proud of them!

"Mommy, look at all those ornaments!!!"

Then we came back to the hotel, stayed up way too late, and got up the next morning, ate breakfast and went off to the Museum of Natural History. The boys loved it! And we can check another museum off of our list, in this Season of Museums. Holla!

Then we went for a long stroll in Central Park. The boys thought it was hilarious, watching all the joggers and bikers and skateboarders and dog walkers. We even saw someone with a parachute attached to his back. People in New York are serious about their exercise! Which reminds me that I'm supposed to be getting up a half-hour earlier every morning to get on the treadmill before work. Sigh. I have got to do better.

Central Park, with the Museum of Natural History in the background. We are in New York Sittay!

Clair was an amazingly easy baby on the trip, and spent most of her time happily looking around or waving at people. People kept remarking, "What a happy baby!" and I was really struck by how much easier it is to do things with her because 1) she has such a different temperament than her brothers did at this age and 2) there's only ONE of her! Even with two other toddlers in tow, it is still easier to only have to manage ONE infant at a time. So for my friends out there with two babies at the same time (you know who you are), just know that I feel your pain; I have suffered the same sense of "will we ever be able to leave the house again?" and I am here to tell you: It will get better.

New York was a huge success. The boys now have the synapse for "taxi!" and for "chopsticks." And this year is off to a roaring start.