So, what do we think of this article?
http://parentingfreedom.com/discipline/
J sent it to me today, and we've just finished up a long discussion about some of the main points. As far as I can tell, the exegesis of the Proverbs verses is sound. Whether or not the correct reading of those verses means that we ought not to spank children isn't so clear.
Here are a couple of things that we're taking for granted at this point:
1) Different kids need different sorts of punishment. Some kids might need to be spanked as a regular form of discipline (if spanking is an appropriate form of discipline) but their siblings might be better parented by the restriction of privileges, time outs, etc. Along those lines, some parents probably ought to avoid corporal punishment.
2) Whether or not the text of Proverbs is instructing parents to spank their young children, corporal punishment certainly was a common practice in the ancient world and in most of human history. Again, that doesn't say whether it's right or wrong, but it's the context for any other text we'd bring into the discussion.
3) There's no place for bullying, venting anger, or intimidating in our discussion of spanking for James. (Or any of our other children.) If we were ever to use corporal punishment (and we haven't yet) it would either be the measured and explained consequence of an action that James understood would lead to a spanking, or the measured and explained consequence of an action that was so dangerous/serious we had to make sure it would never happen again.
Oh, and for the record--both J and I were spanked as children, and neither of us hold it against our parents in the slightest, whatever we decide about spanking and James. In fact, we both probably got off pretty lightly, given what stinkers we could be while knowing the consequences. We've never doubted our parents' love, mercy, and kindness.
I look forward to your comments.
Oh, and write back quickly, because today James threw a hissy fit when he wasn't allowed to bring Steven Bear into the bath with him. (As if we'd never denied him this in 16 months of previous baths.)
Also, make sure you look up the actual definition of the word "prodigal" before writing an article on the internet about prodigal children.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Recently...
Recently, parenthood is...
...looking frantically for my baton before church, bending over to check under furniture, sorting through piles of music, and very nearly being late. Going to church, and conducting without a baton. Coming home from church, taking off James' shoes and coat, then going into the kitchen to turn on water for coffee. Watching James stroll into the kitchen singing to himself and waving the baton.
...chasing James all over the church, keeping him out of the stacks of canned goods that are being donated to charity, and rescuing him twice from stealing dum-dums from the senior pastor's office. Then holding him in my left arm through sixty minutes of rehearsal, because once the choir arrived, he insisted on being picked up and wouldn't be put down without screams and tears.
...begging for Life cereal in the kitchen, making big please signs and pathetic groans. Once given a handful of cereal, eating none of it, but crumbling it into cereal dust and pouring it down the front of his sweater and onto the floor.
...throwing any book he can reach off of the downstairs bookshelves and onto the floor, often while yelling at the top of his voice and especially when angry about not getting something he wants. But not being able to leave his room without indignant pointing and yelling if any of his books aren't put back on the shelf next to his crib.
...hearing the furnace kick on to its highest setting because James has snuck into the laundry room and turned up the dial to the hot-water reserve all the way.
...impassioned entreaties to get into the drawer with crayons. Getting out the crayons and coloring books and sitting on the couch, only to have James methodically push each crayon into the cracks of the couch-cushions, one by one.
...getting out New Steven while Old Steven is being bathed, and finding New Steven in the garbage can. Several times. But then needing both Stevens to sleep in the crib at night.
...looking frantically for my baton before church, bending over to check under furniture, sorting through piles of music, and very nearly being late. Going to church, and conducting without a baton. Coming home from church, taking off James' shoes and coat, then going into the kitchen to turn on water for coffee. Watching James stroll into the kitchen singing to himself and waving the baton.
...chasing James all over the church, keeping him out of the stacks of canned goods that are being donated to charity, and rescuing him twice from stealing dum-dums from the senior pastor's office. Then holding him in my left arm through sixty minutes of rehearsal, because once the choir arrived, he insisted on being picked up and wouldn't be put down without screams and tears.
...begging for Life cereal in the kitchen, making big please signs and pathetic groans. Once given a handful of cereal, eating none of it, but crumbling it into cereal dust and pouring it down the front of his sweater and onto the floor.
...throwing any book he can reach off of the downstairs bookshelves and onto the floor, often while yelling at the top of his voice and especially when angry about not getting something he wants. But not being able to leave his room without indignant pointing and yelling if any of his books aren't put back on the shelf next to his crib.
...hearing the furnace kick on to its highest setting because James has snuck into the laundry room and turned up the dial to the hot-water reserve all the way.
...impassioned entreaties to get into the drawer with crayons. Getting out the crayons and coloring books and sitting on the couch, only to have James methodically push each crayon into the cracks of the couch-cushions, one by one.
...getting out New Steven while Old Steven is being bathed, and finding New Steven in the garbage can. Several times. But then needing both Stevens to sleep in the crib at night.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Bread
I don't know what you're talking about. I've been blogging with a perfectly reasonable frequency.
As you may know, James is terrified of our vacuum cleaner. It turns out that he is also frightened of the bread machine. I made homemade bread yesterday. I used to make bread more often, but I hadn't in at least a year. Our bread machine was a wedding gift from my Mom. (I think it was a wedding gift. Maybe it was from a bridal shower. At any rate, I think it was from Mom. Thanks, Mom.) We used it occasionally during our year in the tree-house apartment, but then we used it a lot when we moved to North Carolina.
On Sundays especially, I would get up and get a loaf prepared before we left for church. (This was back during the days when J and I would go to church together, and sometimes we'd even go and not be responsible for being in charge of anything or playing any musical instruments.) We'd come back home to our little first-floor apartment, and the whole place would smell like fresh warm bread. Ahh...
I don't think there was room for it when we lived at St. Vivian's, and then it spent a long time atop the refrigerator when we moved to our current apartment. It's hard for me to reach on top of the refrigerator, especially when I'm holding James. He's a lunger.
Anyway, I wrote a blog in January about our microwave, and how much J disliked it. Pax, being the kind and generous brother that he is, was touched with compassion at the story. He offered us the use of their microwave, and said it would also be a good excuse to get into the nice new one that they received as a wedding present but couldn't justify opening while their slightly older model still worked.
NOTE TO BENEVOLENT FAMILY MEMBERS: Boy, I sure feel sorry for J! She's a good sport about it, but I can tell that she wishes we had piles of cash lying around. $50s and $100s mostly. Wouldn't that be great if someday we just had piles of cash? And James could play in them too? And maybe also a Monke rotary trumpet with the C air-vent key and a professional flugel and a C shepherd's crook cornet? But really, just the cash would be fine...
So anyhow, one afternoon when we took James over to visit his Uncle and Aunt we loaded up their old microwave into the back of the P.T. Cruiser, eager to bring it home and see if it did a better job than the fading Sunbeam.
JOKE FROM JULIE'S BROTHER:
Two drums and a cymbal fell off a cliff...
But seriously, we loaded the new microwave into the back of the Cruiser. And it rode around back there for about a week. Then we took it out and brought it inside, and it sat on the kitchen table for about another week. But THEN we threw out the old microwave and plugged it in, and because it was a good bit bigger than the older model, there was enough storage space on top to put the basket of crackers AND the bread machine. As it turns out, this microwave is a VERY POWERFUL piece of high-tech culinary weaponry. Our food has been regularly too hot since we've been using it, and we've even been reducing our usual cooking times by several minutes. It's a great problem to have. James has even given up pressing his nose to the front of it, I think mostly because he can't see anything spinning.
But as I was saying, the bread machine is now accessible again. And that's how I found myself making bread yesterday. I mixed up the ingredients for french bread while holding James and spilled minimal yeast on the floor. I'd say that given the floury mess we could have made, a couple grains of fungus were the yeast of our worries.
Then I loaded the pan into the machine, changed the setting to "white 2lb loaf" and hit Start. The machine came on and James just about jumped out of my arms. He went running out of the kitchen and watched the source of the funny noises from the doorway. When I picked him up and tried to show him what was happening inside the machine, he clawed his way over my shoulder to lean away.
But the bread turned out nicely. We even have real butter in the house, so it was delicious when it first came out of the machine. (May we continue to forget about country crock when we visit the grocery store.) But now its stale. Does anyone have any suggestions for how to store homemade bread so that it doesn't go hard within hours? (Note: J does not accept "Have six kids so that there's never any left after a few hours" as a valid suggestion.) Also, I enjoyed my bread-making adventure and am looking for new tweaks and recipes. (Calvus, are you reading this?) Oh, and James wants to visit somebody until the machine goes on top of the fridge again.
As you may know, James is terrified of our vacuum cleaner. It turns out that he is also frightened of the bread machine. I made homemade bread yesterday. I used to make bread more often, but I hadn't in at least a year. Our bread machine was a wedding gift from my Mom. (I think it was a wedding gift. Maybe it was from a bridal shower. At any rate, I think it was from Mom. Thanks, Mom.) We used it occasionally during our year in the tree-house apartment, but then we used it a lot when we moved to North Carolina.
On Sundays especially, I would get up and get a loaf prepared before we left for church. (This was back during the days when J and I would go to church together, and sometimes we'd even go and not be responsible for being in charge of anything or playing any musical instruments.) We'd come back home to our little first-floor apartment, and the whole place would smell like fresh warm bread. Ahh...
I don't think there was room for it when we lived at St. Vivian's, and then it spent a long time atop the refrigerator when we moved to our current apartment. It's hard for me to reach on top of the refrigerator, especially when I'm holding James. He's a lunger.
Anyway, I wrote a blog in January about our microwave, and how much J disliked it. Pax, being the kind and generous brother that he is, was touched with compassion at the story. He offered us the use of their microwave, and said it would also be a good excuse to get into the nice new one that they received as a wedding present but couldn't justify opening while their slightly older model still worked.
NOTE TO BENEVOLENT FAMILY MEMBERS: Boy, I sure feel sorry for J! She's a good sport about it, but I can tell that she wishes we had piles of cash lying around. $50s and $100s mostly. Wouldn't that be great if someday we just had piles of cash? And James could play in them too? And maybe also a Monke rotary trumpet with the C air-vent key and a professional flugel and a C shepherd's crook cornet? But really, just the cash would be fine...
So anyhow, one afternoon when we took James over to visit his Uncle and Aunt we loaded up their old microwave into the back of the P.T. Cruiser, eager to bring it home and see if it did a better job than the fading Sunbeam.
JOKE FROM JULIE'S BROTHER:
Two drums and a cymbal fell off a cliff...
But seriously, we loaded the new microwave into the back of the Cruiser. And it rode around back there for about a week. Then we took it out and brought it inside, and it sat on the kitchen table for about another week. But THEN we threw out the old microwave and plugged it in, and because it was a good bit bigger than the older model, there was enough storage space on top to put the basket of crackers AND the bread machine. As it turns out, this microwave is a VERY POWERFUL piece of high-tech culinary weaponry. Our food has been regularly too hot since we've been using it, and we've even been reducing our usual cooking times by several minutes. It's a great problem to have. James has even given up pressing his nose to the front of it, I think mostly because he can't see anything spinning.
But as I was saying, the bread machine is now accessible again. And that's how I found myself making bread yesterday. I mixed up the ingredients for french bread while holding James and spilled minimal yeast on the floor. I'd say that given the floury mess we could have made, a couple grains of fungus were the yeast of our worries.
Then I loaded the pan into the machine, changed the setting to "white 2lb loaf" and hit Start. The machine came on and James just about jumped out of my arms. He went running out of the kitchen and watched the source of the funny noises from the doorway. When I picked him up and tried to show him what was happening inside the machine, he clawed his way over my shoulder to lean away.
But the bread turned out nicely. We even have real butter in the house, so it was delicious when it first came out of the machine. (May we continue to forget about country crock when we visit the grocery store.) But now its stale. Does anyone have any suggestions for how to store homemade bread so that it doesn't go hard within hours? (Note: J does not accept "Have six kids so that there's never any left after a few hours" as a valid suggestion.) Also, I enjoyed my bread-making adventure and am looking for new tweaks and recipes. (Calvus, are you reading this?) Oh, and James wants to visit somebody until the machine goes on top of the fridge again.
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