We choose NOT to spank. Here's why.

This last weekend, I came across a great article about alternative 'disciplinary' tools to use in place of spanking and, being that we're a family who has forgone spanking, I shared it on my page.

I was not expecting to get the reaction I did.

It was not good.

I was floored. Really?? I'm a bad mom because I don't want to hit my kids? Are you kidding me?? Are we still that primitive? Sure, your parents may have spanked you. Maybe your grandparents used a switch on them. That doesn't make it okay. At all.

Times change. We learn new things. We change and evolve. So should the way we raise our kids. We aren't sending our daughters off to get married at 12 and 13. We don't reserve education for our sons alone. We have learned the brains of infants are much more malleable than we had ever believed possible. Science has proven that sustained physical punishment has caused brain damage. Yes, brain damage.

Don't believe me? Here's an example of what Dr. Laura Markham, a clinical psychologist specializing in relationship-based parenting, has to say about spanking.

"A 2012 study reviewed the previous two decades of research and confirmed that children who are spanked have less gray matter in their brains, and are more likely to exhibit depression, anxiety, drug use, and aggression as they get older. The only positive outcome that's ever been shown from corporal punishment is immediate compliance; however, corporal punishment is associated with less long-term compliance. Corporal punishment has repeatedly been linked with nine other negative outcomes, including increased rates of aggression, delinquency, mental health problems, and problems in relationships with their parents."

Read the whole article for yourself here. No, really. Read it. Even if you do believe me.

Think about it like this; childhood is preparing you for adulthood. If you're repeatedly being hit to gain your compliance, what are you likely to do to get others to comply with you & your desires? You just might try hitting them...

I was rarely spanked as a child but I was never really taught how to properly deal with my anger, anxiety or any negative emotions. I learned early on to bottle shit up and I can clearly remember having anxiety attacks as young as 7 and 8 years old. My mom didn't deal with "bad" feelings well and I followed in her footsteps but worse, even. 

My mom and I have only had a few physical confrontations but in my book, one is too many. I remember the first time she ever really hit me and the damage it did to our relationship. My dad was much more of a 'presence'. He hated spanking me; he came from a very abusive family and he felt that spanking was a slippery slope. 

I feel the same way. 

I have anger issues. I have had to learn in adulthood how to deal with my "bad" feelings in a positive, healthy way. It is hard. When I am stressed out, distracted, busy, I get angry faster than I normally would. I'm pregnant and hormonal and that makes it even worse right now. I'm a yeller and a "loud talker" and I can be scary. Straight up.

Moms are not supposed to be scary.

Moms are supposed to be soft and cuddly and occasionally tough but always filled with love, understanding and comfort. 

If I believed spanking was an acceptable form of parenting and punishment, I can see myself using it as an outlet for my anger. I said it and I mean it. I can see myself taking my anger out on my kids through spanking. 

And that scares the fucking shit out of me. 

It should. It's not right. It's horrible. The idea that I am so angry and incapable of dealing with that anger that I would resort to hitting my kids to get it out is disgusting to me and a very real problem for a lot of parents. 

We are here to teach these kids and we are obligated to do better for them than our parents did for us. It's the only way to keep getting better. It's the only way to grow as humans, emotionally & mentally. We are not the primitive cavemen we once were because we learned.  We learned to make tools, to farm & cultivate food. We evolved. We became smarter. 

Aren't we smart enough to see the damage we cause when we use our hands instead of our words? Our kids are smarter than we realize and they are more than capable of thought. They can understand right from wrong when it's explained to them. When they are shown there are consequences for every action, good and bad, they learn. They become capable of thinking for themselves and they make better choices because they see the benefits. 

I want my boys to grow up strong, confident and full of love and self-respect. I don't want them to question themselves or their worth because someone tells them they aren't good enough. I do not want them to be fearful of anyone, at any time. I want them to feel powerful enough to speak out when they see wrong in the world. I want them to stand up for themselves when people treat them badly. I want them to know that love is unconditional; I want to teach them they don't need to be someone else's idea of perfect to be loved, that being themselves is perfect enough. 

I choose to parent in ways that don't resort to physical or corporal punishment and I ask every parent out there to at least look at the other options available out there. It's about being the best parents we can be, right? Don't we owe it to our kids to change if changing is what's best for them? 

I think we do and I hope I'm not alone. Next Monday, April 30th, is Spank Out Day, USA. On this day, parents, guardians & caregivers are encouraged not to hit or spank & to seek out other forms of punishment. Programs are available nationwide; at churches, schools and other community outlets. Sometimes, they're even free or have low-cost options. You can find a link to the Spank Out Day, USA website here. 

For one day, give your hand, and your kids' butts, a rest. It's only one day. 

Here are a few more links to some articles, websites and books I find useful:
How to handle your anger at your child

Positive Parents

Peaceful Parent, Happy Kids

Parenting with Love & Logic

A game I hate to play

Let's face it. Adults. Kids. Grandparents. Even teenagers. We all LOVE to play games. Board games. Word games. Kissing games. Games of pool, games of soccer, games of chicken in the pool. Games are fun. They get us together. They make us cooperate. They challenge us and push us to our limits, mental & physical.

Then there are games I think we can agree just plain old SUCK. Mind games are one of the first "bad" games that I think of. The game of love can also be especially bitter sometimes. One game I truly hate to play, yet find myself forced into day after day, is the Waiting Game.

This is where I throw in the TMI disclaimer. If you continue to read this post, you may learn more about me then you ever really wanted to know.

The first week of August, I went in to Planned Parenthood for my annual "lady's" exam and to get my IUD removed. After both of my pregnancies, I chose to use an IUD because I just don't seem to get along with pills or patches and I definitely don't agree with shots. I thought I was having problems with this second IUD; cramps, pain during sex, spotting between periods, all that fun shit, so an annual exam was a good excuse to get this junk taken out.

No big deal, right?? WRONG. A couple weeks later, I got a call from the clinic, asking if I'd received my test results. I hadn't. They sent the results to PORTLAND. To the address I haven't been at for over TWO YEARS and definitely NOT the address I put down on my patient info forms. When they send you results or call you with them, it's NEVER good news.

My PAP came back abnormal and I tested positive for HPV, which wasn't a big surprise.

I found out when I was pregnant with Phoenix that I have HPV when I had an abnormal PAP back then. At five or six months along in my pregnancy, I under went a colposcopy. For those of you unfamiliar with this procedure, CONGRATULATIONS because it really fucking sucks; it involves having your cervix examined under a magnifying glass and painful acid solutions being applied to your cervix and biopsies.

Yes. BIOPSIES. You get to have pieces of your cervix scraped or cut off so the doctors can look for everyone's FAVORITE six letter word.

CANCER.

Having gone through this once, I am not excited. I'm even less excited because while I'm dealing with all these super scary possibilities, I get to play the Waiting Game. I set an appointment for the colposcopy with PP on August 28. And then I got my period. I probably don't have to tell you but it's not really a good idea to have ANY sort of pelvic exam at this time of the month. So I cancelled and rescheduled for September 11. All the while, I'm not eating. I'm stressed the fuck out. Why? you ask. I've been through this before and didn't have cancer then.

I'm stressing out this time because all the symptoms I thought were my IUD are STILL HERE, without the IUD. I haven't been good about getting my lady exams every year and I don't think I even followed up with the 6-week exam after Paxton was born. Knowing I have HPV, the most common cause of cervical cancer, knowing the symptoms I'm experiencing CANNOT be from an IUD that's no longer present, my mind instantly goes to that ugly six-letter word: CANCER.

Tuesday morning, I dragged Jay & Paxton down to the PP in downtown Sacramento. The ONLY PP I've ever been in with a bullet-proof wall between the reception area and the office. After filling out the "what are you here for" form, I handed it to the receptionist and was promptly told they couldn't help me. Because of my insurance. The same insurance I had for my annual. The insurance I told them I had when I scheduled the appointment. This is apparently a procedure I have to go to my recently-assigned Primary Care Provider for. Which is AWESOME because they don't have an appointment until October. So after waiting A MONTH for news that could be potentially life-changing, I get to wait some more.

And worry. Are these lumps I feel tumors? Why am I cramping and spotting?? Could I have developed cervical cancer in the seven years since I found out I have HPV?? It's a slow-growing cancer, which is WHY getting regular lady exams is SO IMPORTANT. Early detection is the best way to fight any kind of cancer but you can't detect anything if you aren't going to the doctor regularly.

I'm scared, but not of the cancer. If I have it, I will fight it and I WILL WIN.

I'm scared for the boys. I don't want them to have to experience what will happen if we find out it is cancer. The radiation & chemo. Mom being too sick to function. I'm scared that I'll lose the chance to have another baby. I'm scared for Jay. Our path together has been rocky and full of pitfalls and perils that would have divided a LOT of couples. We still walk that rocky path and our relationship is FAR from perfect. This unknown, this possibility, adds more rocks to that path and leaves us stumbling, fighting to hold onto one another, fighting back the darkness that threatens to take us down and tear us apart.

We sit here and wait. And wait. And wait. For the day to come when we have answers. For the day when we can take action. For the day we can breathe a sigh of relief and rejoice in the HUGE, life-altering bullet we just dodged.

We wait, while life keeps rolling on. We wait and we hope.

The Second Battle

When you have one child with a certain set of problems, you become hyper-aware when a second develops the same set of problems...

Family Ties

Families are crazy, crazy things. A group of individuals who share so much yet can be so very, very different. Brought together by chance or choice, bound together with love, respect and trust. I've always believed family is a thing to be cherished, nurtured; I've tried hard to help the people around me mend fences broken by time, distance or grudges held too long. The problem is: I'm being incredibly hypocritical. I have fences that were ripped apart when my dad died, the bridge between me & my mom is crumbling, and I have no real desire to fix any of it.

Why should I? I didn't create these situations. I won't say I'm a victim because I've allowed the rifts & divides grow; I've held on to the past and used the hurt to feed my anger & animosity. Things did not go the way I expected after my dad died and it added to the trauma of losing him so unexpectedly. Because he was living with and caring for my grandma, when he died, everything suddenly became hers; his laptop, his car, all his furniture, pretty much everything. His closet was emptied out, along with his dresser and jewelry box, when I came to pack up his things. I was left with a few boxes of paperwork, an empty wallet and a half-pack of Marlboros. When I found the title to his car in one of the boxes, I figured it was all I needed to convince my dad's family (see how I disassociate right there?) that I deserved the Jeep; they would "see the light" and fall all over themselves to make it right with me. We'd be a family again; we'd grow closer and I'd learn more of my father through them.

Instead, I was berated; called a liar, a whore; my dad was a thief and had no right to anything. I was stunned. Hurt doesn't begin to explain how I felt. I had just buried my father, my rock, and now I was under attack from the every people who I thought would be supporting me. It was a long, epic battle but I finally got my dad's Jeep, a year and a half later. I kept in touch with my uncle and his two boys but cut myself off from my aunt and her kids. I never spoke to my grandma again and she died in October 2006, shortly after I got my Jeep back. I was asked not to attend her funeral, for fear I'd "start trouble". The hurt just keeps going...

While I feel a little twinge of guilt about my decision not to speak with her, I know the chances are slim that it would have fixed anything. She was not a forgiving person and her alcohol abuse made her anything but nice. Most of my memories of her include some kind of trauma; I realized at a very early age, she wasn't like the grandmas you saw in the movies. The feelings of guilt came when my uncle passed and I realized the opportunity I'd missed to get to know him and through him, my dad. In the last few years, I've reconnected with his sons, Johnny and Matt. Matt just had a baby boy, Noah, on the 6th; he's started talking with our aunt again and I'm left wondering what to do...Should I do like I've told others, step up and make the first move or do I just leave it where it is? Honestly, I think I could live the rest of my life without doing anything about it; I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything and I'm not sure I want them to be a part of my life.

I feel like I have nothing in common with these people, except the blood we share; they have never shown any interest in me or my life, ever. My aunt's one attempt was a teen study bible. I was 13 and 'The Craft'  was really big so naturally, my best friend and I liked to say we were witches. It was purely bullshit but it utterly blew my aunt's mind and she felt compelled to "save" my soul. I can't imagine her feeling any different when, fourteen years later, I have two kids out of wedlock and choose to live with their father as an unmarried couple, which is, of course, a sin. I feel like my stance on religion and choice of lifestyle are enough to put the kabash on any thoughts of reconciliation; adding in the traumas dealt to me after my dad's death just gives me more reason to write these people off.

Am I just being stubborn? Should I feel compelled by our shared biology to 'right the wrong'? Or do I have the right to choose who I call "family"? Do I owe it to my kids to reconnect, so they can know where they come from? What would I say to my dad about this whole situation? Can I really justify my actions (or inaction)? Will this teach the boys that family can be 'thrown away'? Years have gone by and I know I've grown and changed in immense ways but the wound that is my dad's death is one I'm still healing from.

I just don't know if it's worth the trouble it may cause.

Day 18 -- Golden Years Challenge

Day 18 -- 

These are my fears:


The Dark -- 
This is one of those silly, you-should-grow-out-of-it fears but I never have. I've always had an active imagination and I'm more than capable of convincing myself  zombies are stalking me, sniffing out my delicious brains. Even cats used to scare me, walking home from a friend's house as a teenager. I love camping -- until it gets dark. Then I want a really, really big fire and lots of flashlights with brand new batteries. I'm so glad I live in modern times, when our cities glow at night...

-- Outer Space 

Call me crazy but I have absolutely NO desire to travel to the moon or Mars. The idea of flying in an airplane is almost more than I can handle; I can't even contemplate going to space without panicking. What if you run out of fuel? Or food?? There's so much that could go wrong and you'd be left floating out there forever. No thank you. I'm happy right here on this tiny little 

rock.

Death --

A pretty common one, I think. I'm not scared of dying as much as what I'll miss once I'm gone. I don't want to leave before I've seen the boys grow up and have kids of their own. That's what scary to me. I've lived the tragedy of losing a parent before their time and I don't want my boys to know what that's like. I know it'll happen eventually; I just hope it'll be a long time in the future.

-- Marriage

This one may be a bit of a surprise. Marriage is just such a weird concept to me, personally. I suppose one day, we'll do the deed but we're not in any hurry. What if I decide I just can't stand him anymore? What if you decides he can't stand me?? As it stands now, we have most everything you think of when you think of a marriage:  we're committed to each other for life; we share everything & make decisions together; we have two kids, a cat, a dog and now, two chickens. Maybe it's the finality of marriage that's scary to me, I dunno. I know for a fact getting married won't change us or our relationship (we'll still have the same faults and pet peeves) and I can't imagine it will magically make us better parents.