Giving the children a voice

We have a serious epidemic in my house. All the children are infected. There is no cure. I have tried almost every home remedy possible to no avail. I don't know if I will rid the house of this infestation.

The disease? Backtalkus Waytoomuchious.

I really don't remember much back talking when I was a kid. We knew that it was just something you were not allowed to do. In fact, back talk was so rare, that the one time I dared to cross the line, my memories are so vivid that I can feel the fear as if I were in my parents' back yard running from my dad all over again. I had just been to the salon with my mother to get a perm. For some strange reason, my parents got a sick kick out of perming my boy-short hair every year from first to fourth grade. I looked like a fat, brown haired orphan Annie with a giant gap in my front teeth. It was awful, but for some reason, I let them do it to me. I was particularly upset after this trip to the stylist and was pouting when we got home. I went outside to show dad.

"Dad it's awful! I hate it!!"

"It's great! What do you mean? I love your hair like that!" Dad was always mellow and even keeled- something I admire now, but it absolutely drove me crazy as a kid. I just wanted him to get hyped up with me- I hated the hair cut and I wanted him to hate it with me!!

"Dad, how can I got to school like this? I am going to go wash it out!!"

"It looks cute," he said, "And besides your mother paid a lot of money for that, you can't wash it out."

"It's awful," I screamed, "Why can't you admit it is awful!!"

"I really like it," he giggled.

That was it. He had pissed me off beyond no return. I thought carefully before I picked the absolute worst thing I could say.

"Well, you....you're just a BUTT HEAD!!!" I paused in fear, looking at my jolly father's face. I couldn't believe that I had said it. And I knew I was in soooo much trouble. I ran as fast as I could through the back yard.

To this day, I only remember the act of the back talk. I don't remember actually getting in trouble that day. And that is where things are so different with my own kids. For me, I knew that back talking and disrespect were unacceptable. Unless used for drastic measures, as in the story above, there was no way I would risk talking to my folks like that, no matter how frustrated I got. In our house now, back talk is a way of communication for my brood like primal cave-man grunting was for the Neanderthal.

All of our kids are skilled at back talk, but our 8 year-old has absolutely mastered the art form. It is amazing. She doesn't even have to say anything. That girl can back talk with her eyes!! A typical scenario would be as follows:

Kids are outside playing. I am sipping my coffee, enjoying a lovely morning, gazing adoringly at my beautiful children play. I watch them run, I watch them throw a ball. I watch them giggle. I watch my daughter smack the shit out of her little brother's head with a Nerf baseball bat. Enjoyable moment over.

"Get over here right now, Missy!" I yell through the screen. (Sobs coming from the youngest. He is not hurt, but he knows how to get what he wants and is playing big to get his sister into more trouble.)

"Whaaaaat???" she asks. You really have to hear this in person to get the sickening effect of her whining.

"I just saw what you did to your brother! It is not ok to hit, now go stand in the corner until I say get out!"

"But mom-"

"No talking, just GO!" I see the fake tears starting in her eyes.

"I'm trying to tell you something!" She pleads. I don't know what she has to tell me. I busted her dead cold. Saw it with my own eyes. "They were hitting me first!" she screams, in an octave only picked up by dogs.

"No they weren't, and I am not asking you to tell me anything. Go to the corner for hitting your brother."

We are in complete hysterically sobs by this point. "You never listen to what I say!! They hit me!"

"I am not required to listen to you. Go to the corner. NOW!"

"I am not lying! You hate me, they hate me. No one wants to play with me......." It goes on and on and on and  on and on. There is no stopping this girl.

So I try to pick her up and place her in the corner. By now she is kicking and screaming and yelling. What part of busted do you not get, kid? I mean seriously, if I had been caught doing something like that, I would have walked with my tail between my legs to the corner myself without my mom having to say a word. What makes her think she has a right to talk and act this way?

This is my everyday. These kids have coping issues, and I understand that. They all have had a rough time of it, but it is time they learned how to compose themselves and act more like people and less like barbarians. My best motherly advisor is my mother. Not only did she raise three great kids (or so we think) but she also is a grade-school teacher of kids around my herd's age.

One night, after she had a particularly hard day with her class and I had just fought a battle myself, I asked her what she thought was wrong with my kids.

"It's not your kids, honey, its all kids these days. They all talk back. They think they have a right."

"What do you think is the problem, mom? I mean, we were never like this. What in the world has changed?"

"Kids today have been taught that they can have an opinion. What they need to realize is that they may have one, but we don't need or want to hear it. I don't think kids should be able to have an opinion until they are about 15!"

I giggled with my mom, but the more I thought about it, the more I saw her point. They think they have the right-of-way when it comes to family or school decisions. And many adults will argue that it is good for them to have opinions! Well, yes sometimes it is. But as an adult, it is my job to determine if that opinion is going to be heard and whether or not it is in the best interest of the child. I am sure my kids' opinion would be that we never eat vegetables with dinner. Would I ever let them put that opinion action? No way! Would I ever let them express that opinion? Sure, at the right time, but the right time is NOT when we are at the dinner table and I am telling you to eat your veggies! At that point, your opinion has been vetoed and you best keep your mouth shut....unless of course you are filling it with your broccoli!

Although there is a time and place for juvenile opinion (Highlights magazine?) I believe we have gone a bit too far with empowering children. At least in my household, we need to worry less about giving the children a voice, and start to focus on finding them a flipping hearing aid so they might listen once in a while. Then we might be getting somewhere.