Those Funks

I'm in a funk today. Maybe because of the recent parent stuff, maybe because of the 3rd trimester and its attending exhaustion, maybe because of just the knowledge that birth is getting closer and none of the things that really needed to be taken care of by then have been, or appear in any way likely to be.

Our anniversary is coming up, and for the second year in a row I really don't feel like celebrating. In the past I always celebrated with optimistic feelings of "things are probably on the mend, surely they will be better next year." I just don't believe it any more. Another birthday has come around, and combined with all the thinking I did about my childhood memories, this year it just seems to drive home the realization that only once in my life have I ever done something I wanted to on my birthday. Growing up, it's because my parents (or maybe it was June, who the **** knows at this point) just didn't believe in making a big deal about birthdays. We got gifts, mostly from relatives but I do recall a few special ones. And we got to pick out the dinner. When we turned 13, Mom and Dad took us to a restaurant of the type Mom liked (i.e. the type I hate, candlelight and overpriced unintelligible menu items lol), I guess by way of celebrating the end of our childhood.

And I always figured when I grew up, I'd do whatever I wanted for my birthday. Of course, it took a little while for me to figure out enough of what there actually was to do that I could decide what I wanted to do. The year I turned 21, Mark took me dancing at a club down by the shore. I loved it. Ever since then, that's what I've wanted to do for my birthday. But he didn't want to. I wouldn't drink or take pills with him, so it wasn't any fun. He always did dinner and a movie (sooooo boring) if we actually had enough money to do anything at all. And since I've rarely had a working vehicle, it's not like I could make plans of my own. Or make friends to have plans with. I've wanted to go to concerts on my birthday. Never happened. If I had money, I had no one to go with, and no car to get myself there.

So this year is just a little discouraging.

**** I typed this last week, and never posted it, and I forget what else I was going to say. So, moving on.....

It's one of those Wants vs. Needs things, in a way; I mean, who really thinks their birthdays define them? Of course I don't need to have my birthday celebrated. On the other hand, it's one more example of how I feel like I'm always doing for everyone else, but no one ever wants to do anything for me. What I need is to have someone treat me like I matter as much as they do, and these days that someone should be Mark.

Since I started having children, my mother has been there for me in a way she never was when I was a child. And I am very grateful. I would not have survived this long as a wife and mother without her. (On the other hand, I feel a portion of that is the fault of my upbringing because I wasn't allowed to grow up or learn any useful life skills other than homemaking; but that's of no use to argue now.) My sisters have also done many helpful things for me as they got older.

But the fact that Mark doesn't care enough to do anything for my birthday that I would actually enjoy, is painful. It's not like we ever do anything fun at any other time, so I don't feel like I'm acting entitled to expect him to do something special for that. If I don't want to hang out at some guy's house while they play beer pong and watch TV, I'm just SOL. And that really isn't fair or right! He doesn't see why I should care as long as he doesn't stop me from doing what I want. But if I wanted to be on my own, why on earth would I go through the trouble of sharing a house and a bed with someone else?

This year, though, it's not like we had the option. Because as usual, we have been waiting and waiting for money that never comes. And finally Mark became just about one tenth as fed up as I've been for the past 3 years, and quit The Turd. He had another job offer that will give him the first paycheck on Monday; and even though we're still a thousand dollars behind now thanks to that scumbag, never once has Mark ever been paid in full by him, so it was inevitable we would lose at some point. Enough is enough, and if Mark actually sticks to his guns and this other job actually pays every week like he says it will, I will gladly give up that thousand dollars just for the peace of knowing it's over. We stayed afloat this past two weeks on the birthday and anniversary money we received; and that's after we already owed my parents back rent. So there again, another way in which they are so there for me today, and I'm grateful.

So, maybe some good things are happening at long last. It almost makes me feel bad for complaining about my birthday. Except that I did tell him 3 years ago to let this BS go, and if he had maybe we'd have a place big enough to live in and the furniture we need for comfort. Better late than never, right?

Large family, or overextended ideology?

My mom is still on a mission to convince me that spanking is right and necessary. And while I cannot deny that Proverbs does in two places imply the use of corporal punishment as an acceptable form of child discipline, I still feel that if you put the idea of spanking being THE way to train your children out of your mind, those verses can be taken many other ways as well.

But that's not the point of this post. She is convinced that I simply attribute the normal level of discipline necessitated by having many children to a bad teaching. The implication of course being that even though she didn't want to punish so much, she had to in order to keep the home functioning.

And that's a tough subject for me to argue with her for two reasons. First, I am not about to accuse my parents of doing wrong by having many children It's one of the reasons I certainly will not have so many, but I do believe in God's will and to say that my mom shouldn't have had more kids than she could handle gently, is the equivalent of Adam telling God, "That woman whom YOU gave me....." The point being, don't blame the circumstances for the faults.

Besides, while many secular people might feel that way, I don't. I have a very different explanation for the overuse of corporal punishment in our home, one that is equally sticky to address.

My parents did a major work while I was growing up. They reprinted several old childrens' books, both schooling and literature; and since my mother was a very talented musician and pianist, she also set to music an extensive collection of early Christian songs for children, and made recordings with us for attending cassettes. All of this was an enormous task for a mother who was always pregnant or nursing, and potty training too. June did a lot of work on it as well, and others helped from time to time. This vast project accounts for many of my good memories from childhood; but also for a great deal of tension, exhaustion, and in my opinion, neglect, although I know Mom would disagree.

On the one hand, I would never want to trample her life's work to her. She poured so much of herself into it, at great physical and emotional cost. On the other hand, June was constantly pressuring her to put all of her time into that work and insisting we should be able to take care of ourselves. I don't think the effects of such an atmosphere require an explanation. But I do believe it bears directly on the use of corporal punishment as the first line of defense in our home. And I can't quite figure out a way to say that without hurting my mother deeply.

I know, myself, that our frequent spankings stemmed much more from the fact that she was trying to run a publishing company almost single-handed in the midst of a very large household, than it did from the large household. And I can't say to her just yet that I don't believe that was right. But nevertheless, I do believe it. And I still stand by my conclusions.

I hate software updates

I had some conversations with my Mom and my sister the past few days that were very helpful, and I spent about two hours this morning writing a whole post about it to send via my phone email, only to have the phone shut down for a software update and lose it all. And I just don't feel like dealing with this any more. You know what, if I've given the wrong impression of how I feel about my parents vs. how I feel about my upbringing (which for reasons I've already explained ad nauseum are not the same to me), I'm sorry, but too bad. I'm moving on. I came to these conclusions over a long period of time, with much study and observation, and I am not about to change them.

Instead, I'll just add this note that I had posted on Facebook for my siblings to read after the previous note upset them so much. It's important to the conclusion.


***I have been going back and rereading my blog and the links to follow once again the process by which I arrived at my conclusions. It occurred to me that I completely sidelined the original reason why I began to research spanking. I've read so many posts from grown children whose parents were far more harsh in their punishments than mine, that I began to focus on that as the major fault.

But the fact is, while I always knew I would not discipline the way June promoted, most of my negative associations with spanking do not stem from personal experience. There were some, mostly the extreme incidents, but the vast majority of my issues with my upbringing stem from two sources unrelated to discipline. One is the crushing isolation that June demanded of us as God's special holy people. The other was the invasive takeover of our family and home by people like her and others, who routinely overstepped all boundaries of reason and, from my standpoint, robbed me of my parents and my home. These two factors have played a far greater role in the problems I have faced as an adult than any punishments I received.

My quest to discover the truth about spanking had nothing to do with my upbringing. It had to do with the widespread sexual abuse of children in our society, and my belief (which pre-dated any research I did) that spanking blurs the concept of physical boundaries for young children to a dangerous extent.

I don't expect anyone who has not experienced abuse as a child to fully grasp what I am trying to say. It's a case where experience is everything. If you choose not to listen to someone who has been there, go right ahead; but don't bother arguing. Those of us who have been there know. Anything you say will only be so much hot air. Like telling someone who has received Christ in their heart that God isn't real. Say what you like, we know better.

I was very obsessed a couple of years back with learning how to spank my kids without blurring that boundary. I became convinced it was not possible. Now, by spanking, I do not mean a swat on the backside when they refuse to do as told. However, as we all know, that is not always effective. And then a parent must decide how to proceed.

What I mean by "spanking" is the event, when corporal punishment is turned into a regulated routine. THIS is the act I find to be so dangerous. It teaches the children two main things: First, that getting hurt by an authority figure means they did something bad; and Second, that if they feel guilty, it's because they have sin in their hearts.

Since both of these impressions come naturally to child victims, regardless of being taught so, establishing those beliefs as part of their religion is fatal. A child who has been abused is extremely unlikely to tell anyone, even the most loving, gentle parent. If they know they will be punished physically for doing something wrong, the chance drops below zero. That child will guard their secret (the abuser's secret) at all cost. It will never even occur to them that they may not have done wrong. It's the only explanation in a child's mind for this awful feeling they have.

Both the structured spanking of children AND the victim blame mentality are heavy influences in the Fundamentalist doctrine. I am absolutely convinced that both are poison. And that inspired me to research the biblical instructions on spanking. I felt it was instantly clear that the teachings promoted under this guise are warped extrapolations of the verses quoted. And I stand firmly by that conviction.

You can tell your kids all you want about what their boundaries should be. It's worthless. If you do not PERSONALLY establish those boundaries for them by respecting them physically, you are wasting all that time. All your child will know in the end, if someone actually does violate them, is that they let something happen they weren't supposed to, and they must conceal it or face further pain and humiliation.

THAT is why I am adamantly opposed to the doctrine of spanking.

I Wonder.....

I am posting this mostly out of respect to my mom and her right to defend herself if she thinks what I say is wrong. I thought about giving her access to my blog, but I need to be able to speak freely, and I have never yet been able to if I know she is involved, so this is my compromise.
For starters, she is of the opinion that when it comes to religious and family affairs, making sure that the overall "testimony" is preserved is of monumental importance over explaining your position. I feel I can say that her reasons for this opinion are not based in personal embarrassment either, because she has endured a great deal of criticism and reproach in her lifetime as a result of this very belief. Particularly in situations involving the Other Mother and Friends. When Donna came along, she ruined nearly every friendship my mother had with her nasty, lying, jealous gossip. And to most of those people, my mother did not defend herself. She thought it would be a bad testimony to fight openly with Donna.
Maybe she was right. I am not convinced of that. What I am convinced of, however, is her sincerity in believing it. More than anything else about her, I have always had great respect for my mom's commitment to her beliefs, no matter the consequences to herself.
As for my own beliefs, though, I looked back at her way of handling things when I married Mark, and immediately decided that her way had failed. I was rather surprised to find that she still does not feel this way. Maybe it's a difference in what we call "the testimony." My opinion has long been that if she had been willing to open up to someone outside the situation, she would have seen much sooner where it was headed, and saved our whole family a lot of grief. My perception is that June used that belief against her to great harm, and I am not going to fall in that trap.
I used to think that I had to write because I had no one to talk to. It's true that I have always preferred to talk face-to-face (I inherited my Dad's distaste for phone conversations). But after my last post, I see that I probably would have wanted to discuss these particular issues with strangers rather than friends anyway. And I much prefer to find others of similar backgrounds to discuss them with. Going to a therapist, or talking to pastors, wouldn't do much; because one would categorize me as an abused child simply based on my strict upbringing, and the other might very well take the opposite stand at the outset and refuse to believe I was really hurt by these doctrines. Either way both become a waste of my time.
Perhaps if it weren't for my severe social anxiety, I would have connected with similar people in real life. But I couldn't. Perhaps if June hadn't been around and mom still was the same, the same method of parenting would have affected me differently. But she was, and it didn't. Perhaps if I hadn't been molested early on, I would have been far less sensitive to criticism and what felt to me like abandonment. But I was. THIS WAS MY LIFE. "Take It Or Leave It." Why should I have to rewrite it so others won't know what I felt? And I don't mean to imply by that statement that I even care about showing them what I felt. I'm saying that I feel no obligation to shelter others from the knowledge of what their actions did at the price of being unable to move on. I did my best not to let this hurt my parents, but I slipped up, and it did. Why should that change anything? The truth is still the truth.
My mom's position is that the Testimony is more important than the Truth. I don't see the difference. I believe they are one and the same. I am not going to stop writing about my beliefs AND about the reasons I hold them. I will certainly be more careful with FB in the future. But this IS an important part of my testimony. If the doctrine is false, for the sake of the Testimony, we should fight it. I have yet to ever see ANYTHING resolved through silent endurance. That is for things that cannot be changed. If changes are possible, then silence is not only unneccesary in my opinion, but wrong.
I don't know if things would have been drastically different for me today, if one factor or another were removed from my childhood. They probably would have. But what I do know is that I would never have let go of the rage and disillusionment that overwhelmed my childhood, if I had not started blogging. And to me, that speaks for itself.
I still struggle with rage and disillusionment, but I have only to read last year's blog on my flash drive to see how much more I feel at peace today. The difference is tremendous. Even the difference from January to now is noticeable to me. That's what works for me. I tried Mom's way for years, and it didn't. You could argue that I had too much anger for prayer to be effective, but I don't really believe that. I had to identify the sources and come to terms with their effects before I could feel humble about them and begin to forgive. If Mom doesn't need to do that, good for her. I can't tell her how to handle her life. But I do.

For the record

Well, as many of you know, I do not blog under my real name. Mostly because I need to be free to say what I think without having it come back on my family. Also for basic internet security. I do, however, maintain a FB page in this name for various reasons. And on that page I copied and pasted my posts on spanking. I tagged certain people I wanted to read it, and that apparently was a mistake. Once my sister commented, it allowed access by several people who could easily figure out who my parents are.
My parents read it, and were very hurt. My mom wanted to know why I didn't just come to her if I felt this way. To me, the answer was simple: I already have, it's been resolved, I moved on. These posts were about my view of the Fundamentalist method of discipline, not my view of my parents.
After reading the post again, though, I can see why that was not apparent. I also see that there are some basic underlying differences between the way I think while I'm writing, and the way others naturally read what I've written.
I don't often refer to June, my mom's religious mentor, these days. That's because I confronted HER with these issues, without result, and I have accepted that there will be no closure from her. Hers was the faulty recipe. My mother may have actually wielded the rod, but June was the driving force behind it. It's her face I see, and her voice I hear, when I write these posts. Not my mother's. I reached closure with her a while ago.
These posts were not an attempt to describe my childhood for sympathy. They are my effort to spread the word to my peers about the poison of the Fundamentalist doctrine. To do that, I must at times refer to my childhood.
For the record, my mom disagrees. Both that her discipline would have been drastically different without June, and that anything can be solved by talking to outsiders. I feel confident in saying she is incorrect on both counts. The second is self explanatory. Even if I actually had real life friends with whom I was comfortable discussing this, I wouldn't, because of their connection to my family. And contrary to her belief, I can say from harsh experience that nothing has ever gotten resolved by praying for strength. You don't pray for strength to go on living with injustice. You pray for strength to deal with it. And then, you go and deal with it. At this stage of my life, dealing with it means helping spread the word to other parents and future parents who might fall into the same trap.
In talking to my mom, I cited the child of a mutual aquaintance as one of the reasons I have come to this decision on spanking. She tried to help me understand their situation better. His parents did not discipline harshly until he was around 5 (funny, that's about the time his problems started). They were unaware of certain medical issues affecting his digestive system at the time, and he frequently soiled himself. Since they had no way of knowing that he wasn't being lazy and doing it on purpose, they had to start punishing him. It was the best they knew at the time.
EXCUSE ME?
Far from garnering my empathy, this only redoubles my urge to fight such a sick, evil doctrine with all my might. Only a parent raised in the upside down, backwards world of Fundamentalism's "evil childhood" doctrine would ever THINK of such a possibility as a 5-year-old child soiling himself on purpose! What insanity. And I'm supposed to understand the PARENTS' struggle? What about the little boy who was basically hurt, despised, and outcast BECAUSE HE WAS SICK? I want to knock those two parents' heads together for being so stupid. I have disagreed with nearly every parental act I've ever seen from them, but I still gave them credit for more common sense. Ugh.
As for the June situation, I'm going to reopen it for this post, because I think my parents need to see what my impression of my upbringing really is. They feel like they've heard me say one thing, and write another. So here's what I remember, for the record:
I remember June telling mom that under no circumstances, ever, should an adult apologize to a child. That such an unbiblical act would turn the world on its head, and society would soon collapse. To hear her talk, you would think a failure to spank immediately and painfully would result in a mob of 8-year-old parent-hating anarchists taking over the world and bringing Armageddon. I remember her quoting Proverbs endlessly, always with the implication that children were fools and must be beaten hard and often to have any hope of a decent future. I remember her pressuring mom to use harsher tools of punishment, like an actual rod instead of the switch, as we got bigger. What impression my mom took away from these lectures, I can only guess at. I imagine it mostly involved a feeling of still not being good enough, of failing as a parent, and of fear that we were becoming horrid little monsters who would destroy her life's work. I base that merely on how I would feel if someone said the same things to me as a parent.
What I took away from those lectures was naturally quite different. I was evil until I reached adulthood, June wanted us to be in constant pain and misery because that's what she thought children deserved, I could never be worthy of a compliment until I had proven myself as an adult copy of June herself, and my mom had to diligently burn away our dross and pound us into shape like a blacksmith if we were ever going to amount to anything. I doubt my mom even realized I felt this way; but the feeling was no less real for all that.
There were a few defining moments of my childhood as far as discipline goes One was the day I got into the tub and saw that my legs were purple and blue all up the back from the previous day's punishment. I got very upset, and the look in my mom's eyes was one of shock and regret. This kind of spanking was NOT the norm. But what she actually said wasn't the "I'm sorry" behind her eyes, but the Proverbs quote about "the blueness of the wound." And that hurt me more. Not because I now thought she didn't love me, or that she wanted me to suffer, or even that she believed I deserved it. What I saw in that moment was June vs. me, and June won. My take-home impression, if you will, was that June was more important to my mother, amd I couldn't compete. My mom would deny her instincts rather than the infallibility of the prophet.
There were other incidents, but they involved siblings, not me. So I will not cite them.
I was reminded of another example when I found my box of childhood papers last year. In it was a certificate with a date on it. I was 7. It certified that I could write my name. On it, in printing far better than what I do today, was my name. And my mom's signature, to make it official. There was a B at the top.
That brought back memories. I worked so hard on that. I was so proud of it, so sure I would get an A+. I couldn't believe I got a B after all that. Mom pointed out that the letters weren't all the same height across. They were close, but not enough. Once again, the lesson of faulty childhood. 7 years old simply wasn't old enough yet to do an A+ job. Perfect was perfect, whether I was 7 or 17. The best I could do wasn't good enough.
Whether Mom realizes it or not, I find it nearly impossible to believe that she ran her 2nd grade classroom by that standard. I feel like that was June's influence too. I got many A and even A+ grades from mom; this wasn't the norm either. But this grade wasn't for a correct answer. It was for perfect penmanship. And I simply wasn't old enough to reach that goal yet.
I have some good memories from my childhood too. It wasn't all a rat race. But the overriding force was June's doctrine of evil childhood, of "children should be seen and not heard," of believing that everything we did was wicked and selfish, or at the very best, needing improvement.
My dad's mother was the first person to ever tell me she was proud of me. Last year. Other than online friends, of course. I didn't ever think about it until then. That isn't right. My parents should have been proud of me. I worked very, very hard to please them. But, I was unfortunately just a child. And for that crime there was no redemption. June said so. Her whole life was based on it.
Once the Other Mother came along, I gave up. Now there were two people monopolizing my mother who both took priority over us. I have no good memories of my teens. The 8 years I lived at the house where my parents still reside was a long, unbroken expanse of confusion, loneliness, despair, and rage. I shut down, went into survival mode, and counted the years, then months, until I could flee with the only bright spot in my world (Mark) and never look back. I gave up on my mom, there was nothing I could do for my siblings, and I wasn't going down with the ship. I had no home; it had been given away to others who had no rights there. I was nothing but a rebellious servant. Donna and June had wrecked us, and all I cared about was escape. It consumed me night and day. Until I could physically escape, I mentally escaped With no one to talk to, I talked to myself, constantly. I still do.
Mom told me that Dad worried about our isolation and lack of peer companionship. He couldn't have been more right. She felt she did the right thing to prevent any outside influences at such a vulnerable time. That was June, too. I know it was, because June told me so. She told me to thank God for my isolation, because isolation and holiness are inseparable.
Actually, we all know that studies have proven isolation and insanity are inseparable. I could have been one of those studies.
Mark was the only reason I spoke to my parents again after leaving home. Amd I'm glad he made me. Without that, I would still hate my mom, I would never have seen how big a part June played, and I would never have observed how drastically my mom's parenting changed when she finally let go of June. Also, I would never have developed any relationship with my Dad. June kept him in the back seat.
I know this isn't making my childhood out to be better than the previous post. But the fact is, this was my reality. And this discussion was never about our childhoods, it was about how the discipline affects us AS ADULTS. I laid my childhood to rest already, by finding closure and reconciliation with my mom, by walking a mile in her shoes in many ways, and by accepting that with June and the Other Mother, there will be no closure. It's done. All I want is to tell other parents how this discipline really works, and hopefully save future children from this poisonous, evil doctrine.

Proverbs on Spanking

This is my followup post on spanking. For the first three, go here, here, and here.

I was curious this morning about the verses I always heard quoted as a child during spankings, and how they really apply if you stop thinking of them as license to hit. It was a fascinating study.

How many ex-Fundamentalists remember these?

Proverbs 19:18 - "Judgements are prepared for scorners, and stripes for the back of fools."

Proverbs 20:30 - "The blueness of a wound cleanseth away evil; so do stripes the inward parts of the belly." (This was always the next day's quote, when we woke up with sore, bruised, welted legs and cried because it hurt to sit or walk.)

Proverbs 26:3 - "A whip for the horse, a bridle for the ass, and a rod for the fool's back."

Yes, these verses clearly refer to corporal punishments.

Who on earth decided they referred to CHILDREN?

In context, these verses have nothing to do with parental discipline. They are proverbs about society, in a time when adults were stoned for adultery or idol-worship, and whipped for stealing. They are completely irrelevant to the responsibilities of a parent!

So how about the verses that specifically deal with children?

Proverbs 19:18 - "Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying." (Yeah, the boys certainly do cry and yell when I take away the DS or other toy, or send them to sit on the stairs, or ban ice cream and candy for the day. I guess I'm not supposed to give in, who would have thought?!)

Proverbs 22:15 - "Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child, but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him."

A rod was a shepherd's tool. How many of you think the shepherds routinely beat their wayward sheep? How did words like "rod," "reproof," "correction," and "chasten" come to be interpreted as blows?

A lot of people take offense at Michael Pearl's references to child-rearing being like training an animal. I understand that it doesn't sound good. But think about how you would expect someone to train a puppy, or a horse, or any other pet capable of some inter-species communication? We put people in jail for beating their dogs. Back when horses were a way of life, a man who beat and aggressively whipped his horse was looked upon as a bully, or an ignorant, violent person.

For some strange reason, this does not seem to have occurred to Mr. Pearl. But I do agree with his statement, taken at face value.

I asked my dad's mother what her method of child-rearing was. I was curious since my dad does not seem to be in any way hampered by a lack of discipline in his childhood, yet she didn't seem like the spanking type. Her reply was that she couldn't say she never gave them a good swat when they were really acting out, but that she did not feel the need to "spank" for offenses. She thought there were plenty of other ways to deal with misbehavior before resorting to a whack.

That's pretty much what I had pictured. And it's pretty much how I feel about discipline. I will never judge a mother who picks her tantrum-throwing toddler up off the grocery store floor, and smacks his butt before returning him to the cart. It may not be the most ideal response, but it is a normal one. I'd rather see that than the mother I saw recently, whose son accidentally knocked his sister off of her precarious position on the cart front; and as soon as the little girl let out a whine, she started berating the boy far too loudly and telling him what a bully he is and how there will be no candy today, etc. She clearly reacted out of her own embarrassement, and ignored his assurances that it was an accident. Which it was, truly, and more the mother's fault than his in fact. I saw what happened. Also the sister was being quite dramatic. Judging by the looks on both kids' faces, I doubt she normally bothers to intervene, and that upset me even more. Naturally, I didn't say a word; I'd have only made it worse. She probably gave them extra candy at home to make up for it, and expected them to forget all about the harsh words and public humiliation.

Anyway, that was a bit of a sidetrack. My point was that my Dad has certainly not displayed any lack of self-control or any anger issues as an adult, so obviously it didn't hurt him not to receive prompt whippings for every infraction. And he wasn't the angel child, either. They called him "Dennis the Menace" as a young boy. He pulled the girls' hair and made trouble in school, tormented his little sister to no end, and that's just the stuff he actually told us. So my Dad is living proof that spankings are not a vital part of child-rearing.  

On the other hand, Proverbs has many references to "violence" and what a bad thing it is. So we need to decide, what constitutes "violence?"

Ephesians 6:4 - "Fathers, provoke not your children to wrath, but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."

This leads to another point I missed the first time. About taking responsibility for what you tempt your children with. If you know that your child is more likely to be angry or react poorly over a particular thing, I believe it is the duty of the parent to do as much to avoid and minimize the situation as possible. For example, I know that Andy screams at Hunter every time he loses the game on DS. He has to learn that Hunter is not to blame. In the meantime, I don't allow him to play it in the same room where Hunter is playing. It's something I need to be prepared to deal with before I give him the DS. I know that Hunter does not wake up easily, and will be extremely grumpy and contrary if I don't give him at least 15 minutes of persistent reminders before I actually need him to be up. I see no reason why I should ignore that fact, refuse to deal with the inconvenience, and then just drag him out of bed and whack him if he fights. It's my job, as the parent, to deal with the known factors involved in a way that brings about the best outcome for everyone.

Michael Moore, in his documentary film "Bowling for Columbine," asks over and over why Americans are so violent compared to other leading countries. He almost had it a couple of times, but not quite. He still thinks having more guns has something to do with it. He thinks the culture of fear has something to do with it. Both are undoubtedly factors. Guns eliminate a lot of reaction time by the victim, and a lot of time to think by the perpetrator. Still, I think our society overall simply has a massive anger management problem, and without guns we would still lead the civilized world in murders.

I think it goes back to the Puritans.

I don't want to diss my forefathers, or say that they were bad people. But I really do think that they brought a culture of judgement, rigor, criticism, contempt for others, and a mentality of no forgiveness that has shaped this country from the beginning. I think it's that underlying concept that everyone MUST follow your creed, your God, your way of life, and anyone who doesn't must be a wicked heathen, that has bred this culture of violence. And it's the same reason the Fundamentalists still haven't bothered to figure out how to raise their children, instead of merely enslaving them. These are the men who burned and drowned witches, because the Old Testament said to. They didn't bother to clearly define what a "witch" was, even assuming that would have justified such acts. They simply applied the title to anyone who was "weird" or "strange." They established a way of life that said anyone who didn't fall in line was an outcast and less than human. And then, somehow, they reached the unspoken conclusion that Christ's instructions to His followers don't apply to their dealings with those people.

And we wonder why we have so much violence.  

Friday Fragments

Today is Joshua's birthday. We miss you, angel.

Friday Fragments is brought to you courtesy of Mrs. 4444. Check out her blog at http://halfpastkissintime.com/ for links to other Friday Fragments posts.

Someone told me the YMCA does discounts for low income families. I really need to use a gym for biking exercise; I think that would help tremendously with my lower pelvic problems, while eliminating the counterproductive impact caused by most exercise. It was helping a lot last year during the two weeks I got our bike working before someone stole it. Grrr. Plus, I really want the boys to learn to swim. So I'm applying, and hoping for the best, and getting what little income proof I have together.

Since the jackass social worker assigned to me keeps giving me grief every month over one thing or another, I figure to kill two birds with one stone and pre-empt him this month by turning in all the same information I have to give the Y before he can ask for it. Take that, Mr. Brown!! Mark keeps bugging me to apply for cash assistance too, but I refuse. I feel like that would be enabling him. It's true that the license situation prevents him getting any jobs with a comfortable income. But he still needs to shoulder some of the consequences if he's going to continue putting all his time into a failing enterprise. Feeding our family is not optional. Buying clothes and nice bath products and furniture sort of are. To a point. I don't need spending money badly enough to ask the county for it.

One of these days I'm going to do a post on Wants vs. Needs, just some of my thoughts about the subject. We do have some of what I feel I can reasonably call "needs" that aren't being met. That's a relative thing, of course, because since we DO live in the U.S. and not in Belise or Haiti, I can't legally get away with letting certain things slide that poverty stricken people in other countries might call luxuries. On the other hand, I don't feel like I can gripe too hard about not having beds when we have two perfectly good mattresses and a sofa. Albeit one that's becoming very uncomfortable as I enter the last trimester. Anyway, that's a post for later. 

This little girl is a wiggler. Good grief! She squirms and kicks from the moment I wake up at least until I fall asleep. Lol. I guess she'll be a handful. :D

I'm noticing that forcing myself to deal with the boys more calmly is already having an effect on their behavior and my state of mind. It's encouraging. We still have a long ways to go, but even small steps look so good right now.

This week was VBS at our church. It's been lots of fun. They did adult classes too. The first one was on managing money and staying debt-free by a Christian fanancial advisor (haha not that I have any money to manage these days, but it will stand me in good stead when I do), and the second class was a DVD about the Galapagos Islands from a creation standpoint. I LOVE LOVE LOVE nature videos!

The shots didn't go too badly yesterday. And next year when they get the last DTaP, it will be the last of all the shots I'm getting. That's a relief. One of the two followups I thought they needed is eliminated by the fact that they are over 4 now. Another good reason for starting late.

It will be interesting to see how things go with the new baby, since WIC tells me I have to keep up with immunizations to stay on it. Not happening. I'm not getting anything until she's two years old.

Next weekend I turn 31. I'm hoping against all odds that I will actually have a little spending money by then to go out and buy some better fitting maternity clothes and some nice bath products. The cheap stuff sucks when you're pregnant. And I may have only gained 14 pounds, but it's all in my belly. My maternity wardrobe is barely sufficient as is, and will drop by half within a week or two. :( And my mom already paid for about 25% of it.

At VBS the financial advisor challenged everyone to pray for an extra hundred dollars this month for giving to a charity. I couldn't help thinking how much money we'd actually have to get before I could call a hundred dollars "extra." Even if I continue to only think of things like food, toilet paper, shampoo, bills, furniture, and clothing as necessities. I would gladly donate a hundred dollars to charity rather than spend it on perfume, nicer dishes, a decent looking table, brand new clothes or even baby clothes (there are plenty of consignment shops), or going out to dinner or a movie. (Neither of which I really enjoy, but it's all Mark is ever willing to do together.) I might even forgo taking the boys to a museum or other attraction if it would make a difference in someone else's life. But I'd feel bad, because they really get to do so very little outside the house.

However, just to get a comfortable bed to sleep on and sufficient clothing, not to mention getting ready for Baby Girl, would take several hundred dollars more than I can reasonably expect to have in the next month. And when one of the other members asked what the advisor considered "extra," and he said whatever is left over after bills, church giving, household expenses (define that please?), and SAVINGS, which he defined as 20% of income until it reaches a certain amount, I nearly laughed out loud.

Is it just that I have no faith? That I can't trust God to make a breakthrough? Or am I doing the right thing to keep my expectations realistic? I honestly don't know any more. I just know I'm a person who is influenced by patterns. And this is the pattern I see: always having just barely enough, with rare little bits of sunshine that allow me to do some of the things I feel are necessary or important (like taking the boys somewhere or buying nicer/bigger maternity clothes), and never any leftovers. That's okay, most of the time. I can live with it. My kids are not among the supposed 94% of kids worldwide who will wake up tomorrow morning with nothing for breakfast, and most days that's all I really need. (They may not like the only breakfast available, but at least they have the option, hehe.)

But this challenge is bugging me. I should let it go, but then I'd feel like I just can't trust God. On the other hand, I also feel like He is telling me I have to do without these things right now for a reason, and it could be a lot worse. Is it being presumptuous to ask for, and expect, another thousand-ish dollars above the norm to show up within four weeks? I have no idea.

More photos from last summer

I never did finish my photo post from our OK trip. Here goes. To see the previous one, go here.

My sister's pastor's wife kindly bought us a membership to the Children's Museum out there. This was one of the photos from there. I am having trouble finding my other folder from my sister's camera. She had some good ones.

This was the octopus hat I crocheted for Hunter while we were there. He still likes it.

He LOVED the kiddie pool we went to the last weekend. He was convinced he could swim, lol. And made a pretty good effort. It wore him out though. After two hours he complained of his tummy hurting, went to the men's locker room with my brother-in-law, and covered the floor and toilet with diarrhea. AAGGGHHH! Not my favorite motherhood moment. I had C. stand watch while I sprayed him off under the shower, he went home in his cousin's spare clothes, and to top it off C. didn't tell anyone about the mess. Ugh. Someone was salty when they found that. I feel bad.

This was our second trip to the museum, and the boys' favorite attraction. It was a water study with locks and mill wheels and so forth. Very cool.

Hunter liked the whatever-you-call it as well. Hehe. It went up really high. Andy didn't like it though.

This was the last Sunday there, the kids singing with the pastor.

This was a view from the train on the way home.

The boys on the train.

I fell in love with the Appalachians.

The boys got a rousing welcome home. :D

Summertime

Andy had his first playdate at home last week, with his best friend from class. They had a lot of fun. They are both named Andrew too, hehe; but the other boy goes by his initials.

I made an appointment tomorrow for getting their next round of vaccines, minus the Hep B. I decided that I want Andy to have the option of starting first grade in public school, and if major troubles arise, well, I can always pull him out. He is going to be furious about the shots since he decided he didn't want to try school based on having to get more shots. But it's a few days of discomfort to keep from being stuck in the house all winter with me and a new baby, while Hunter goes back to Pre-K every day. I think he will be a lot more upset in the long run if school starts and it sinks in that he's not going anywhere, all for a few shots.

It's genuine summer here right now. Not my kind of weather. But it's nowhere nearly as bad as the past few summers, so I'm grateful. The garden could really use some rain though.

Monday we were supposed to head down to the shore with the Other Mother. NOT my idea of a vacation. Since Mark is once again owed multiple weeks of pay, it didn't work out. Neither did plan B. I'm upset we don't have the money we're owed, but rather glad that the trip isn't happening. Both for financial reasons (it would have cost far more than we should be spending right now), and because I had a very hard time coming to terms with spending two nights with her. As if the heat, crowds, and being pregnant weren't obstacles enough to begin with. She rented a place for the week, and seemed to be quite confused and put out that simply having a place to stay didn't solve any problems we might encounter with the trip. So for once, I'm actually thinking this always-late pay thing worked out.

Mark and the boys are very upset, but we're trying to come up with something else. My sister is able to get discount tickets to a popular kids' attraction through her job, and that trip would cost far less and probably be as much fun for the boys as the shore trip. Of course, that's all assuming we actually get paid enough at any point to do more than buy groceries and pay overdue bills.

The midwives are supposed to get back to me today or tomorrow about my transfer. I'm trying to switch to the practice that delivered Andy. They opened a satellite office much closer, and they accept MedicAid. The midwives I'm with are demanding that I transfer due to Hunter's birth history. Weenies. I'll be 28 weeks on Saturday, and I've only gained 13 pounds. I had gained about 30 pounds with Hunter at this stage, and started out at about 15 pounds heavier anyway. I don't forsee any trouble with this baby's size. As for the prolapsing, I can't do much other than stay off my feet and avoid lifting anything as much as possible. Whatever happens at the birth will happen.

My People

Someone gave my mom a box of books and she let me go through them to see if I wanted anything. There were a few books of poetry, and I have always loved poems. Although I am just as particular and selective with poetry as anything else; music, clothing, jewelry, etc.
This poem seemed to really express the way I have felt since I can remember.

"Who Are My People?"

My people? Who are they?
I went into the church where the congregation
Worshiped my God. Were they my people?
I felt no kinship to them as they knelt there.
My people! Where are they?
I went into the land where I was born,
Where men spoke my language....
I was a stranger there.
"My people," my soul cried. "Who are my people?"
Last night in the rain I met an old man
Who spoke a language I do not speak,
Which marked him as one who does not know my God.
With apologetic smile he offered me
The shelter of his patched umbrella.
I met his eyes... And then I knew....

- Rosa Zagnoni Marinoni

Why I've Stopped Spanking Part Three - Conclusions

I may have to add a Part Four later to catch all the thoughts I couldn't collect today, lol. I am definitely feeling that 3rd trimester fatigue. I think it officially starts next weekend. And my mom's computer kept freezing up today, so I have to post by phone which always makes it harder to keep my train of thought.
But, I'll try.

So, I talked about my reasons for not wanting to pursue corporal discipline originally. And about some of the resources that strengthened my feelings into a belief. I won't lie, I have not been doing this long enough to say that A or B has worked well for us. My main purpose in writing these posts was to collect my wandering thoughts into something coherent so I can be clear on my decision. What I can say is that corporal discipline wasn't working. And during the brief period of time when I tried to put it into a structured pattern, it only seemed to increase the boys' frustration and sense of being somehow burdensome.

Those feelings, I strongly believe, did not originate either with the discipline or the lack thereof. I am certain they originated with the lack of structure, self-discipline, and peace in the overall home environment. There wasn't much I could do about that. There was nothing at all they could do, so the responsibility falls on me to make adjustments.

My parents no doubt attribute the boys' anger and lack of self control to my unwillingness to discipline effectively and consistently. I have been guilty of that. However, I am confident now that my efforts from this point on are better put into building mutual communication skills and respect than into establishing my superiority. I can learn with them, or I can pass along the same repression, fear, and social anxiety that I was raised with, perpetuating the cycle. Why not try something new? Why continue to pursue a course I already found to be flawed from first-hand experience? What's the worst that can happen, my kids grow up with as many questions as I did?

Yes, my boys have anger issues. That's to be expected under the circumstances. Until recently, I was looking for that magic method that would make them calm, collected, and happy. I realize now that there is none. Those things are just as much the product of their surroundings as they are of my discipline. I can choose to go for appearances, held in such high regard by my family and other Fundamentalists, and force them to conceal and repress their feelings and reactions for the convenience of all the adults in their life. Or, I can choose the path I never tried yet, and set out to teach them self-control and better ways to express their feelings, and a standard by which to weigh those feelings rather than deeming them all unworthy from the beginning. Of course Andy can't be permitted to kick his brother, throw toys, say bad words, or refuse to leave the store. Of course Hunter can't be permitted to hit me when I say no to Lucky Charms cereal, wallop Andy when he doesn't give up the DS, throw his food in the trash, or run outside and hide from me to keep from doing a task. I just don't think spanking is an effective answer.

The proof is in the pudding. I was raised with a faulty recipe. The least I can do is try another one. It may get me some dirty looks and disapproving stares from my family, or from the old maids at the grocery store. But I'm going to try anyway. I see too many parents react out of embarrassement rather than conviction. I remember how angry it made me as a child to know that my mom was reacting that way. I don't want my boys to feel that way, that I care more about some stranger's opinion than their well-being.

And it certainly won't hurt me to learn the lessons of patience, communication, and self-control that were withheld from me as a child. I have nothing to lose. And I love the idea of embarking on a whole new path. God knows I hated that old one. :)

Why I've Stopped Spanking Part Two - Research

So. After a while I began wondering if it was really necessary to spank the kids. Sure, Andy was getting unruly, but I felt that was directly related to the family situation and the tremendous amount of stress he was under as the oldest child. I didn't feel right blaming him for that. I mentioned this to my mom once, and she looked at me like I had three heads for thinking that his stress should in any way excuse his behavior. Ummm, we adults always seem to get away with that. Why not even more so a child?

I had a conversation with someone from church who was horrified that I would consider not homeschooling, and offered to teach the boys herself for free, as a favor to me, if it would make the difference. I was rather taken aback, and I know she is a friend of my mom's, so I thanked her very much but told her I wasn't sure that would be what I wanted. She said "Oh, come on, there will be no problems! I'll raise them just like the W----'s children!"

I gasped in horror. Good thing it was a phone call. Visions of my active, precocious, fun-loving boys sitting straight up on a bench with somber Puritan faces, in button-down shirts and slacks, reciting poetry and soberly basking in their parents' pride at their academic accomplishments, rushed into my head. Before I could think of being tactful, I blurted out, "Oh I would never want that! I do NOT want Andy and Hunter to be like them!"

Probably not the wisest thing to say, since the family in question is close with the younger section of mine; but it did dampen the conversation considerably, and the lady has not offered her advice since.

I also observed my oldest nephew and the effect his parents' methods had. They follow the Pearls. Everything I saw led me to believe this was NOT a healthy way to discipline children, at least for this particular personality. I have very serious concerns about his future, and I won't see the same thing happen to Andy. So right before me was proof positive that a dominating relationship with my kids would only be destructive in the end.

Plus, it takes both parents to discipline effectively in any way, and I think perhaps more so with corporal discipline. The kids already have enough pain and confusion surrounding the issue without having one parent feel the other is too harsh or too mild. And Mark and I still don't agree on anything, really, other than not raising them like us. One more reason not to start a regimen of corporal punishment.

At some point I came across blogs from other parents raised in the Fundamentalist lifestyle. Originally I gravitated toward their questions regarding true Christianity, family rules, and homeschooling. Then I noticed some of them were discussing "Gentle Discipline." I decided to try it out, but without researching much due to limited internet access. It wasn't very successful. I wasn't changing my language, as it was so aptly put on a blog post I cannot now find to link. :(

I left a comment on one blog about how to keep my kids out of danger when they absolutely won't listen to me. Someone, I think it was Permission To Live but I'm not certain, directed me to some links about that very situation. I couldn't read them at the time. However, I have recently been able to research more, and here are some of the blogs I've found that are helpful.

Enigma

Permission To Live

Darcy's Heartstirrings

Quivering Daughters

Dulce de Leche

The last link in particular had an abundance of resources and further links that were very encouraging. And I realized that I did not need to keep worrying about what other people think. This is MY family. I can handle the discipline. They aren't perfect by any means, but you know what, I would be insane to expect that anyway.

In the last post, I will talk about my conclusions on how to apply this to my own kids. And then, moving forward, we will see how it goes!

True Love - A boy and his cat

This is Andy with my 15-year-old cat. He wants a cat of his own so badly. He adores her, and she very patiently tolerates him like the experienced great-grandma she is lol. Since Mark is allergic, she lives at my parents' house still.
Sent from my Nokia phone

Why I've Stopped Spanking Part One -Origins

I really never established a clear pattern of discipline with my kids. I wish I had, but I didn't think there was any such thing as discipline outside of spanking. It's how I was raised. Had I known then what I know now, things would be easier today; but better late than never.

The reason I didn't was the rule every decent parent who spanks believes in: Never spank in anger. And I was always angry. Between my own childhood baggage, which mostly manifested in deep social and emotional insecurity; and my husband's, which ran far deeper and manifested in addiction, severe depression, and numerous mental breakdowns; I never felt I had gained enough control over myself to "Spank With Love."

Naturally, as my boys grew older and began to act like normal self-centered children in front of adults, I took flak from my family and my in-laws for not cracking down. I made lame excuses, usually trying to make it look like I did better out of sight, and falling back on the "Spanking In Anger" thing, without really clarifying. That was something they empathized with, but it only went so far. I was given much advice and books to read and so forth, and I couldn't really explain my situation without revealing more of the truth about my marriage than I wanted to. How to tell people who have never dealt with addiction, that you can't enforce household rules and keep suicide watch at the same time? That when their father is having an emotional collapse it's more important to keep him from getting up and hurting himself than it is to keep the kids out of the cabinet, or make them pick up the toys. And as for TV time, forget limiting it; it's a lifesaver for distracting them from what's happening.

How to explain, without scaring people away, that you can't spank your kids without anger if you can't stop thinking about the stuff your spouse cried about in his delirious nightmares last night, and how it makes you really almost believe you could justify slitting the throats of the people who did this to him, or watched it happen and did nothing; and since you LIVE WITH THEM, there is no way to take your mind off it. Self-control is a nearly impossible battle, let alone controlling your toddlers.

Add to that the sleep deprivation and loss of appetite that comes with such deep emotional strain, and no one in their right mind can say that this person should be spanking a child.

So I rarely did.

In the next post, I will talk about researching the issue and some of the resources I've found. I can't link them from here though, because I'm posting from my phone.