My son, boy does he have a lot of energy and that ol’ thing called selective hearing. Honestly, he can be a handful sometimes- and for a while there I didn’t even like taking him out in public.
It wasn’t so much the behaviour I couldn’t stand, because I have long learnt how to deal with that. It was the stares as I dealt with my son in my way.
Sometimes, the hardest thing about parenting truly is other parents.
So here’s the deal, I don’t yell at my son. Okay, I do, I’m human I lose it sometimes. But it’s not my preferred method. And sure, I’ve done a lot of reading on positive parenting and for the most part I follow it but I’m not necessarily the quint essential positive mum because in many ways I vary from the core ideals.
I believe in consequences. My son acts out, he faces consequences. We dish them out, or sometimes we tell him later. And we move on. We don’t hold grudges in this family.
I believe in learning moments. My son might tease someone. I explain it’s wrong and why. We don’t tease in this family.
I don’t believe in hitting. I’ve smacked him before, when he was a smacker. The first time he smacked me back harder. The next time we ended up both crying. We don’t hit in this family.
And we try not to yell in this family. Why? Honestly, it doesn’t work. That’s not to say it doesn’t work for your kids, it is to say that it doesn’t work for mine. The second I raise my voice, he stops hearing my words and all he can hear is my tone. The only reason I see a change in behaviour is because I’ve scared him. He doesn’t learn anything, and he’ll probably do whatever it was that made me yell again because he hasn’t learnt a thing. Except fear.
It’s been a really hard slog, this not yelling business. Some days I feel like I’m trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. But now I’ve made him a square hole and he fits perfectly. It’s all coming together and I am really beginning to reap the rewards of this positive parenting business. And, primarily, so is he.