There are many families living in what must feel like little prisons where they’re held hostage by kids for whom they can’t get any effective help. While I understand the discussion in the media about the importance of the state laws and how unclear they are, or how uncaring or caring the parents are, the bottom line is this: there are a lot of desperate people out there and there’s nothing being done to help them. So many families have kids they cannot deal with, and there are no services available for them. (While there is some help for kids out there, a large number of them are beyond the type of help that’s currently available.) For parents, there’s no back-up, there’s no out-of-home support. These people are desperate. Make no mistake, there are many, many desperate families out there with kids who they don’t seem to be able to help, kids who are a harm to themselves and other family members, who are disruptive, and who don’t respond to what’s become the traditional approach to behavior management and treatment.

Unfortunately, changing the Safe Haven law is not going to solve the problem of all those families in need. People don’t know what it feels like to walk into your home and have a 9 or 10 year old screaming, “F— you!” And he won’t go to his room and he won’t stop. And he’s hitting his siblings. He’s stealing from you. People have no idea what that’s like unless they are in that little prison with their child. It’s not like dealing with a naughty child or simple bratty behavior; it’s a whole different level of parenting.

Keep in mind that these kinds of kids don’t let their mothers and fathers parent them. They’re more like custodians and clean-up people. That kid’s relational skills, for whatever reason, are so handicapped that he’s beyond parental control. Often, the training that parents get from their own parents, the media and from other resources does not adequately prepare them to deal with this.

Why is this happening now? I think it’s because the state of families has changed as child-rearing became more about what you feel like doing and wanting to be your child’s friend. As pop psychology became more predominant, child-raising became less important and fewer demands were placed on kids.

All of that contributes to an atmosphere today where parents of very difficult children have absolutely no status or way to get effective help. There are all kinds laws around services for children, but there’s very little effort being made to help parents learn the effective parenting skills they need, or that enables them to get the kind of community support they deserve.

A final word: instead of judging these parents, maybe we need to understand what it’s like to walk in their shoes.

A new study out this month says that young people who frequently watch shows that depict sexual situations or conversations are twice as likely to get pregnant — or get someone else pregnant. (This is in comparison to  to kids who watch few or none of these types of programs.) In the study by the non-partisan Rand Corp., the pregnancy link was there even after accounting for factors such as delinquent behavior, those who wanted to get pregnant, and comparing kids who live in single-parent households to those with two parents present.

“Watching this kind of sexual content on television is a powerful factor in increasing the likelihood of a teen pregnancy,” said lead researcher Anita Chandra. “We found a strong association.” The study was published in Pediatrics, the journal of the American Academy of Pediatrics.

While TV itself doesn’t cause kids to get pregnant, I can see how it would make sex seem completely risk-free. (How many episodes of TV shows have you ever seen that deal with STDs, for example, or unwanted pregnancy?) While adults have the maturity to understand what happens next, most kids just don’t have that tool at their fingertips yet.

Where do you stand with TV in your household? Do you think it’s more about parenting and less about what your kids watch on television? Do you allow your kids unlimited access, or do you screen for violence and/or sexual content? And how do you talk about it with your teen if they do happen to see something sexual on TV?

Now my pre-teen daughter was starting to act out. The difference this time was in my reaction: my threshold had finally been exceeded; I had been down the chaotic, crazy road of insanity once before, doing and saying the same old, same old, yet expecting different results. It was time for action. I would not tolerate any more yelling, screaming, control antics from my daughter. My response was about to change, and rock her world in a big way.

“What are  you doing?” she screamed as I picked up the phone.

“I am calling the counselor,” I calmly replied.  Sure, I had threatened several times before…empty threats, more of the same old, same old.

The only thing that was different this time was my response, not hers.
That day, I decided to take back the reigns of parental control.

“Noooooooo….” she wailed, stomping her feet, quickly promising not to scream anymore.

I calmly ignored her and stepped inside the bathroom and leaned against the door, holding it shut with my backside, made wider from all the stress-eating I’d been doing.

The phone conversation was brief, but the noise on the other side of the door communicated our situation pretty clearly: Mother with no control, no respect and a child in control.  It needed to change and I had taken the first step.

That was several months ago, and things are much better now, in large part to my calm demeanor (at least on the outside) and the soft spoken oft-repeated mantra  of  “I expect, you decide.”

Boy does she hate those words, but to me they are a new lease on life.

I calmly and clearly (no more yelling) state what I expect and then calmly and clearly state and affirm what her choices are if she decides to do (or not do) what I expect. Repetition and consistency are key. Over the last few months, there have been fewer battles and more victories. Sanity has been reintroduced to our family. If you’re in this situation, be forewarned: clearly the boundaries will be tested, so be prepared to follow through with help at first.

If you’re in this situation with your teen or pre-teen, tell me about it. What isn’t working very well? What do you do that’s effective? Remember, you can take back parental control.

Empowering Parents would like to welcome Kathy Pride, the newest member of the EP Parent Blogger Team. If you are interested in blogging for us, please contact us at editor@empoweringparents.com.

–Laura B.

Dear Laura,
Your situation does sound challenging. While it may be typical for some teens to focus solely on video games, it isn’t necessarily healthy. Given the fact that your son has few social connections, is “chubby” and makes disparaging remarks about himself, firstly, I encourage you to talk with a professional clinician, or your family doctor, in order to rule out any underlying issues, whether emotional or medical.

Many kids feel awkward socially, and simply lack the skills to make and keep friends. For many, it just feels easier to hide out in a virtual world, rather than face those feelings of awkwardness. In James Lehman’s Total Transformation program, he explains it this way: feeling socially awkward is a problem, and parents need to teach their children how to effectively solve that problem. Once you’ve addressed possible underlying causes, you might try approaching this issue as a lack of social skills, and implement a system that requires your son to acquire the skills he needs to be successful.

The first step is to let your son know that he is required to be involved in some kind of social activity twice a week. You might make some suggestions that don’t involve too much face-to-face contact or conversation at first. Let him know that he can choose the activity (within reason), and give him a time limit in which to make that decision. State clearly that if he does not choose something within that time period (a week is fine), then you will choose for him. This isn’t meant to be torture for your child, but it will be uncomfortable initially. You can expect that he will resist, as most people do when they are forced outside of their comfort zone.

The next step is to connect privileges and consequences to his attendance at the chosen activity. When he has attended the activity (whether or not he says he enjoyed it), he has access to his privileges that day. If he refuses to go, you might consider taking away his video games for that day. Don’t take them for extended periods of time – just for the day in which he refused to attend the activity. If he decides he wants to try something else, he will need to attend this first activity for a period of time successfully (which means he goes to the event without making a huge issue out of it) before he can change to another activity. Setting it up this way should keep him from changing activities rapidly, simply because he feels uncomfortable or overwhelmed. Be clear with your son that while the specific activity can change, the requirement that he do something active at least twice a week will not change.

Remember, this approach is designed to help your child slowly become more comfortable in social situations and improve his social skills. Some people are naturally introverted, and won’t ever become the “life of the party.” But think of it this way –- everyone needs some level of social skills in order to get a job, have friends, and feel successful in life. No matter what kids say, video games do not help them prepare for a meaningful and satisfying life. As his parent, you can play the role of the coach, encouraging him to grow and stretch into a healthy, successful young man.

Good luck, and please let us know how this works!

–Megan Devine, LCPC and Parental Support Line Advisor at Legacy Publishing

1. Shop for the week instead of running out to the grocery store every day. (I tend to be a last-minute, “what are we going to have for dinner tonight?” kind of person. But those trips to the store add up! Especially because, if you go when you’re hungry, you can fall prey to what my Italian mother-in-law refers to as “liccardaria” — things that are produced to take your money, but that have little nutritional value. In my case, it’s the bagel chips that get me every time.) Shopping for the week takes a little planning ahead, but so far, it’s cut our grocery bill by almost a quarter. (Also, my husband has taken over shopping duties because he’s a better bargain hunter and isn’t lured in by the villainous bagel chips.)

2. We’ve pledged to agree to a budget and stick to it when visitors come into town, and for the holidays. That way, we know how much we can spend when guests are at our house or for gifts, etc. (I’ll let you know how this one goes!)

3. More vegetarian dishes, less meat. (It’s healthier and it costs way less, generally speaking.)

4. Making cookies, cakes, and snacks for school at home. I’m not the domestic type, so the joy of baking is kind of new to me. But I have to admit, I love this one because it’s a fun activity to do with your kids. (Except when you find your child chugging sugar from the jar when your back is turned. The detox during time-outs can be hairy, but so far, we’ve survived relatively unscathed.) If you can do it, baking at home is way more affordable, and of course, healthier. (Healthy-ish?)

5. When going out to eat, order appetizers, soups and salads. It’s usually cheaper than ordering a full entree, and you get more variety.

Anyone else have any ideas out there? With the holidays coming up, we need all the help we can get!

In first grade I self-selected early as the kind of girl we all know…teacher’s pet, straight-A, queen of nothing and president of everything, an over-achiever. ‘Nuff said? In second grade we had not one, not two, but three different teachers. The first died suddenly (tough on second-graders who all sort of fall in love with the teacher), the second could only accept a brief stint as a substitute before getting married and moving away, the third became terribly ill. Since cursive writing was the crux of learning in second grade back then, we all ended up with horrible handwriting going into third grade, due to the lack of consistent teaching.

I landed in the third-grade classroom of Mrs. D.  She seemed, to us, VERY old. Looking back on my second-grade group picture, I realize that even today at my age of nearly 48, I would consider her old — well past what we would consider retirement age now. And I could tell from the get-go, somehow, that she just didn’t like me much. I have met retired teachers from that area who remember Mrs. D. well, and I have learned that she was highly involved with a very strict church that has to this day a reputation for being harshly judgmental. My family was not a church-going one, and in the mid-’60s in small-town Texas, this alone was remarkable. Maybe her antipathy toward me was the result of an idea that my parents weren’t doing their best by me in terms of religious training. Who knows? But I just knew, in the way nine-year-olds can, that Mrs. D. HATED me. I have often remembered one day when I chose Louisa May Alcott’s book Little Women from the bookmobile and Mrs. D. pooh-poohed my selection, telling me it was far beyond my abilities. I kept it, read it, and loved it and re-read it many times, and I don’t think I did it out of the need to “show her.” (I ended up majoring in literature.)

Alphabetically, I was seated in front of Amy W. Amy had just moved into the school; her mother was a fourth-grade teacher who had decided to exercise her right to have her daughter go to school where she taught rather than to the school in their neighborhood. Amy was an early prototype of the “mean girl” we all hear about more frequently nowadays. But Mrs. D. wasn’t much better. Mrs. D. would call me to the front of the class, have me hold up my notebook, and point out to everyone in the class my dreadful handwriting; then she’d have me remove the page and pin it to the bulletin board. She would mock the clothes my mother home-sewed for me, and of which I was terribly proud. Amy would sit behind me and poke me with pencils, write on my collars with ballpoint pens, and even — finally — use a pair of school scissors to cut my hair, all without this teacher saying a word. I felt powerless because I knew Amy’s mom was a fourth-grade teacher and figured that Mrs. D. would take Amy’s side in any dispute. These were the days when students — even good ones — knew that a teacher’s word was respected, and a teacher was always given the benefit of a doubt in any dispute with a student. (My, how times have changed!)

My best friend at the time was, oddly I guess, a boy named Tracey and we enjoyed each other’s company tremendously. But no sooner had third grade begun — with Amy soon the head of a circle of acolytes who copied her every fashion and mannerism — than Tracey become the target of the most insidious kind of childish torment I have seen to this date. Amy formed the “Hate Tracey Club” and every girl was in it but me. When I approached Amy to ask why she would pick on Tracey this way, Amy told me, “Because we have to hate SOMEBODY.” She couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to join, and continued her recruitment efforts relentlessly. The point of the group was not just to hate Tracey, but to demonstrate this hatred in all the ways third-graders can figure out how to do this. Third-graders are remarkably inventive in this regard.
It was when Amy cut my hair that my mother got involved. Soon enough there was an after-school meeting scheduled with the teacher and I sat at home expecting the sky to open up and swallow someone — me, my mother, Mrs. D., Amy, Amy’s mother, Tracey, who knows who else. When my mother finally arrived home I anxiously asked what had happened at the meeting. My mother was nonchalant and flippantly mentioned that our school pictures would be returned in a few days. I was mystified and frustrated and felt somehow let down. I wanted to hear that SOMEONE had been punished, and punished HARD!

(To this day, I have not asked what went on between my mother and Mrs. D. Nothing at school seemed to change significantly, except that perhaps Mrs. D. seemed to ease up just a bit on me. Maybe this blog  will prompt me to ask!  I’m fascinated by how my mom handled this. She didn’t run interference, I suspect, largely because I was not forthcoming about the depth of my misery. Back then we were not taught that our parents’ function was to champion us and our causes at all times, we were helped when we ASKED for help, maybe, and not before. The understanding was that teachers’ and parents’ words would not be questioned unless there was some overwhelming evidence against them. Our parents didn’t run around ANTICIPATING our needs or thinking much about what was bothering us — they shrugged their shoulders and said, “Toni’s in a phase.” Sometimes I wonder if maybe that’s a healthier way to be.)

By the way, it would of course turn about that I landed in Amy’s mother’s fourth-grade classroom, and I dreaded the first day of school. My mother — again, in a sign of the times — didn’t see any need to run interference and I didn’t request it. I just spent the summer, between reading Nancy Drew books and looking out the window, agonizing over what would happen. But Mrs. W. was the antithesis of Mrs. D. and I had a great and supportive experience. She plied me with books and extra writing assignments and generally made me her pet. Her daughter was, for obvious reasons, placed in another class. All the while I was wondering why such a mean girl as Amy could have such a sweet mother.

It is not hard for me to understand why I am fascinated by the Charles Manson murders (they occurred at about this time, with a pathologically attractive person ordering people to do mean things to other people for no apparent reason whatsoever) and by the Jonestown tragedy (which occurred 30 years ago, during my senior year of high school) where a pathologically attractive person orders people to do mean things to their children and then themselves.

My family moved away from the neighborhood at the end of fourth grade. I heard that Amy went on to become a cheerleader at a large local suburban high school and then at a nearby public university. A few years ago I picked up a newspaper from the area and saw a photo of the blossoming trees at a local park, being tended by my long-ago school friend, Tracey. The caption mentioned that Tracey worked maintaining the park all by himself.

Perhaps in part due to these experiences, I have grown up to become a person who is concerned deeply — in ways that consume my time, money and efforts — with issues like social justice, crime, fairness, intolerance for religious difference, group dynamics, education, and equal opportunity. As my mother says, I am often the person saying something on the order of, “That’s just not RIGHT!” Go figure.

So my question is, how can we use these experiences our children have — both positive and negative — as a way of helping that child discover just who they are and what they believe as individuals? And do these kinds of experiences make us the people we are? (For example, was my childhood friend Tracey always a loner, or did his bullying experience make him into one?)

Don’t get me wrong, I love Halloween as much as the next person and am definitely a fan of chocolate and candy myself, but I also have to admit that I dread the ginormous haul of loot that comes home with my son. My in-laws think I’m crazy for saying this — they tend to hand my son candy, cookies, and treats like they’re senior crack dealers on a mission. They can’t understand why he starts whizzing around the room and screaming incoherently like the Tasmanian Devil about 10 minutes after consuming these goodies. So far, it’s been impossible to get them to realize that yes, sugar and food dyes make Alex into a crazy, howling mini-werewolf.

Last Halloween was the validation of all my fears.  One night about a week after the holiday, I got a call from my sister-in-law in Virginia. As is my habit, I went to hide in the bedroom so we could actually talk. My son was happily watching a video, so I thought I had at least a good 30 minutes to catch up on the phone. What I’d forgotten was that Alex’s Halloween candy bag was still out on the counter…and there was a very large box full of styrofoam peanuts in the living room. By the time I came out a half an hour later, there was a trail of Snickers and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup wrappers leading directly to the (now empty) box of peanuts. Alex had spread every last little white plastic thing around the living room, mostly (as I heard him tell it, and then demonstrate) by jumping into the box repeatedly from the sofa.  Have you ever seen the effect of static electricity on said peanuts?  They were stuck EVERYwhere — to the rug, the furniture, his fleece pajamas, his hair…I even found some clinging to the walls like little white styrofoam caterpillars. One year later, and I’m still finding them on the undersides of the couch.

But this year it’s going to be different. I’m going to limit his sugar intake, offer him an apple instead of a Milky Way when he brings in his haul. (Yeah, right.) So here we go, another Halloween and another sugar bath for the kids. Be afraid, parents…be very afraid.

What do you think? Have you seen sugar or food dyes affect your child’s behavior? Or is this a bunch of hogwash concocted by neurotic, candy-phobic parents?

I know many of you reading this are saying, “Yes, I’d love to go out and spend more time with my spouse, but…..” and then we can all find a hundred reasons why we don’t: too much work, too many extracurricular activities, not enough money, not enough time, and on and on the list goes. The truth is this, though: if you don’t make the time for your marriage, you will wake up one morning next to a stranger. I say this because I am witnessing first hand many of my friends whose kids have gone off to college or left the house (and it’s sooner than you think, trust me) who are wondering what they have in common with their partner. A friend who is going through a divorce told me recently that it wasn’t any one thing that ruined her marriage, just years of neglect on both her and her husband’s part. She said that eventually, they no longer knew one another and their marriage faded into nothingness. So what can we do to not only prevent our marriages from fading away, but to nurture them?

First, I am a big advocate of the weekly date. I know this isn’t always easy, but I feel it is vitally important to reconnect after a long week of nurturing others. When my husband and I were new parents without much expendable income, we would ask our neighbor, a widow who had raised 4 boys, to watch our son for one hour a week, and we would go for a walk. During this time, we would talk about our son for the first part of our “date” and then limit our conversation to non-kid topics for the latter part of our walk. Surely there is someone in your life, a middle school child, a grandparent, a neighbor who can take your kids off your hands for one hour one day a week? (Think of it as a marriage work out.)

Second, pick a day on the weekend (we choose Sunday nights after the kids are in bed) to pull out your day planners and talk about what the week ahead of you looks like. This allows you and your partner to be on the same page regarding your kids activities, your own home/work schedule, and gives you the opportunity to plan your date! I love this time because I feel like my husband and I are re-connecting at a very basic level about our lives. Sometimes things are so hurried that we don’t know which direction either one of us is moving in. This allows us to slow it down.

Finally, one time a year try hard to get away together, even if it’s just for one night. I know firsthand that this is hard, but I think all of us need to put energy into making this kind of time with our spouse or partner work. My husband and I started this tradition by sending our kids to Grandma’s house for a sleep-over, and then we had the house to ourselves! It was free and freeing at the same time.

On a final note, I know many of us have very difficult children and can find ourselves overwhelmed on a continual basis. Parents will oftentimes say that this is a reason they cannot go out as much as they would like because their family life seems to engulf them. If this is you, I will say that a difficult family life is even MORE reason to get out with your partner as often as possible in order to build a strong marital foundation so you can adequately deal with your children.

All parents need a break, and all marriages require work. Get out on that date this week!

Do you have any tips or ideas for a good way to get away with your spouse? Please share them here!

The reaction I had last week surprised me.

2 Saturdays ago, my husband Joe took our son Alex to soccer practice. He’s on the kindergarten soccer team, which basically entails a bunch of five and six-year-olds swarming the soccer ball in a big kid-sized clump and having a little fun.

Except last week. You see, there was a first grader on the opposing team who was knocking kids down left and right, and hitting, pushing and kicking anyone in his way (yes, even the girls). For some reason, this boy’s coach wasn’t doing anything to stop him. The kid’s dad was standing behind my husband saying, in a loud voice, “Well, this is a rough sport, you know? That’s the way the game is played,” and kind of chuckling a little.

Well, our son Alex, who is on the small side for his age, was getting knocked around and pushed down with all the rest of them. And then, from out of nowhere, it happened. As my husband tells it, Alex had had enough. When the other kid came up behind him, he got in his karate stance, blocked him and used an elbow jab. Alex didn’t hurt the other boy, but he did shock the heck out of that first grader, who was a little less rambunctious afterward.

OK, would I normally advocate for my child to use karate on his opponents, or hurt anyone? No way. But in this case, I thought he did the right thing.  If no adults step in to stop bullying behavior, shouldn’t kids be allowed to protect themselves? Or am I way off base here?

Later, I asked Alex how he felt about what he did. “OK,” he said. “That boy was hurting everyone. It wasn’t fair.” I hugged him until he said, “Mommy? I can’t breathe,” into my sweatshirt. I never thought I’d be so proud of my kid for standing up for himself. I think I was partly just giddy that he’d learned how to protect himself and wasn’t just standing there letting kids whale on him, which is what was happening last year in pre-school.

Still, when we signed him up for karate, I didn’t think he’d be using it to protect himself on the soccer field. I don’t understand why coaches don’t step in more to stop that kind of behavior — and should parents say something here? What do you tell your kids about protecting themselves? Is it ever OK to fight back?

One night, I was working as the flight attendant on a short flight and had a few spare moments sitting in my jumpseat. My son’s birthday was coming up — I think it was his 11th — and I decided to very quickly use the back of the flight manifest to make a list of “The Top 20 Things I Like About You.” I planned on putting it inside his birthday card. I ended up with 22 things (Number 22: “Because you’re MY kid!”) before I had to unbuckle and get up and go to work! I didn’t get it typed up in time to put in his birthday card. Instead, I made it into an email. (I figured it would be easier for him to refer back to it when he needed a boost, since he is on the computer so often and, like a typical boy, unlikely to hold on to some ephemeral piece of paper.) I didn’t write any little intro, just emailed it to him and never mentioned it again. I was never really sure he even got it. I got busy with things and, truly, did not think of it again. He didn’t mention it, either. Then one night, a couple of months after that flight, the three of us were sitting in our living room eating dinner. You have to understand that my son is a fabulous eater, a real joy to feed; he will try anything and loves everything, and even got a waiter to take him into the kitchen once so he could see his dessert before ordering! And so, of course, that night he was eating the fairly exotic dish my husband had prepared with absolute gusto. I turned to him and said, “It is such a pleasure to eat with you. You really enjoy your food.”

And my son turned to me quietly and said, “I know, Mom. That was Number Five.”