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Along Life’s Way
The New
Parenting?
By Lois E. Wilson
After my husband and I had children, one day my Dad confided in me that
he was surprised at how well I cared for them. I was an only child, so
I did not have any experience caring for siblings. In Girl Scouts we
learned the skills needed for baby-sitting jobs. That was the extent of
my preparation.
Recently, I read two newspaper articles that intrigued me. I found them
interesting because they were both written by men. The first suggested
that we all should have a phrase to use to defuse any extreme emotional
reactions to events in our lives. The writer’s was “Oh, man,” (Nothing
sexist there, I hope.) The phrase is to be uttered in a calm manner as
you exhale. From your calmness, it is hoped that your children learn to
respond to anger and frustration in a like manner.
I thought of a self-coined curse (SCC) word I have used over the years,
“Rassafrass.” If my children ever copied me and used the word, I knew
it would be acceptable in social situations.
Its meaning and purpose were not known by others.
In the second article the writer points out the philosophy of a woman
who advocates “body safety” for children. She believes the family
should create a “culture of consent” as it empowers children when
dealing with sexual predators. One way to promote this is by asking the
child’s consent before changing diapers. Her goal is admirable, but it
is acknowledged that the child may be too young to grasp the question.
I remember the “terrible twos” when the answer to most parents’
questions was a resounding, “NO!” I tried to envision putting the
“consent” philosophy into practice. I’ve babysat for grandchildren
before and during potty training: “Honey, PU! Do you smell something?”
She shakes her head “NO.”
I reply, “The stink is very bad! Sweetie, may I change you diaper?” She
stomps her foot, shouts a loud “NO!” and runs out of the room.
I notice that her diaper is leaking. I go to the utility room closet
and return wearing a nose clip and carrying a mop. I follow her scented
trail, mopping, and gasping for fresh air as I go. When I reach her, I
drop the mop, snatch her up, and quickly carry her to the changing
table, plop her down, and grab a diaper STAT! I take as deep of a
breath as I dare and try to calmly say, “Rassafrass.” She looks up,
smiles and says, “PU!” The mission is attacked and accomplished!
There must be a less traumatizing way for us both to learn the “culture
of consent.” I guess by today’s rules, I lack parenting etiquette.
Asking permission in the above scenario, to use one of my SCC words,
seems “bass-ackwards.” I take a deep breath and exhale, “Rass-a-frass.”
Was that calm enough for you?
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