Children whine at different ages for different reasons. No one can say exactly when whining will start, but it can even be as young as 18 months.  It is interesting that early talkers seem also to be early whiners.  The toddler whiner often feels overwhelmed or out of control. He’s just not getting what he wants right at that moment. He doesn’t have the vocabulary to express his feelings, and he likely lacks the ability to delay gratification and to tolerate his frustration.

The preschool whiner often suffers from lousy local conditions. The current environment is sabotaging his ability to use his “regular voice.” (He’s hungry, fatigued, had too many playdates, gone on one errand too many, Mommy’s been out of town, Daddy hasn’t been home for dinner all week, etc…)  For him, whining has become a habit.  He thinks that is the way to get his needs met.  Children whine because it works! You hate it, you tell your child not to do it, you ignore it…and then you explode. Stop whining right now!  You’re just stoking the fire.

Whining fulfills two basic emotional needs that all children have:  the need for attention and the need for power.  The child needs your attention, and whining usually gets it, even if it’s your exasperated, negative response. It is attention, after all.  It also makes the child feel powerful because so often in the end, he actually gets what he wants, including your attention.  While the capacity to whine comes with the package, the use of that behavior is learned and reinforced by you. No one can say exactly when the whining will stop, but its cessation is definitely related to your response.

A child’s whining is a clear message that he needs something. It is a cry for help. He’s frustrated, he’s impatient, he’s overwhelmed, he’s needy, he’s spent, he’s fed up, he’s done. There is always an underlying cause. It’s just that whining is the wrong way to get the help he needs.

To stop the whining, a preemptive approach is always a good idea, especially when it comes to guarding against lousy local conditions.  But making sure that the child is getting the attention he needs, that the houseguests go home, for example, is not always possible.  In that case, here are some suggestions for dealing with and kissing the whining goodbye.

• Whining can never work. Period.
• Keep in mind that your child is asking for help. Let him know that you have heard him and that you will meet that need. (I hear that you want some juice. I will get it for you in one minute if you use your regular voice to ask.) To the younger child you can ask, How can I help you? And follow it by telling him the voice and words he needs to use.
• Do not mimic your child. It is the height of unkindness and disrespect.
• Do let your child hear what he sounds like by setting up a video or recorder in the kitchen, unbeknownst to him. At an unloaded time, play it back, saying, I am not sure you know what it sounds like to me when you whine. You are giving him information and teaching awareness.
• Let your child know that he will not get what he wants if he whines for it. Not ever.
• Develop a signal (a tug on the ear) that you will give to your preschool and older child so he knows to use a different voice to express his need.
• Praise and acknowledge of his use of an acceptable voice. That is just the voice that works!
• Take a look at when the whining seems to occur. Is there a pattern? Perhaps there is something in the child’s environment that can be changed to meet the need he is expressing.  This is part of being attuned to your child.
• If you have encountered a spat of whininess, give some thought to what might be causing it these days.  Is your child getting enough of you?  Has the baby been getting a lot of attention? Often consistent whining signals a child’s need to reconnect with you.
• If the whining is pervasive, start whispering. No kidding! In your child’s attempt to hear you, he will stop whining, and the whining pattern will be broken for the moment anyway.
• If all else fails, hang a sign that says No Whining inside a circle crossed with a diagonal line. When the preschool and older child whines, take his hand, show him the sign, and lead him into another room, saying,  Remember, this is a No Whining room. You can whine out here!

“10 Unsettling Education Trends Started By Tiger Moms”

http://www.onlinecolleges.net/2011/08/10/10-unsettling-education-trends-started-by-tiger-moms/

Not only is the information powerful and important in the lives of parents and children, but it is incredibly thought provoking.

Let me know what you think by sending a comment.

Last week on the bike path at the beach, a family strolled by all dressed in saris and clothing native to India.  The warm, sunny day brought out people in all manner of beach and sports attire, but only this family was fully covered head to toe in brightly colored, diaphanous fabric, and they stood out. They were different, and I noticed.

Recently at lunch at a hip restaurant in town, I was seated next to a woman dressed very much like a man—crew cut hair, dark pleated slacks, white tailored dress shirt, vest.  She was different from the other diners, and I noticed.

Starting from an early age, children need to learn that different isn’t necessarily good or bad…it’s just different.  When a four year old sees a woman with an unusually big nose (or who is unusually tall or in a wheel chair or has waist length dreadlocks), she blurts out, “Mommy, look that lady’s big nose!”  She’s not accustomed to seeing noses that look like that. It’s different. And it draws her attention for that reason.  Your reaction is among the child’s first lessons about difference. “Yes, you’re right. That woman’s nose is bigger than you have seen. Do you notice how I am using a quiet voice to talk about it?  We don’t know how she feels about her nose, so we don’t want to hurt her feelings. We’ll talk about it when we leave the grocery store.” And later, “People have all different size noses, don’t they? But they’re people with  feelings just the same.”

Children who are raised in climates that model and require tolerance and acceptance of difference will carry that lesson wherever they go. They learn not to judge and measure based on adherence to the norm.  They learn that different is just different. Judgment shouldn’t have a role.

Children also learn the importance of kindness and caring for the feelings of others when difference is noted.  Your reaction certainly teaches that lesson. Something may seem different, even funny or odd or out of place, but that is only your feeling. Regardless of your perception, it isn’t acceptable to hurt someone else’s feelings.

All of the environments in which children live—home, school, sports fields,  karate and dance studios—impact our growing children’s attitudes and behaviors.  Their comfort level with difference and their response to it, their consideration of others, are shaped everywhere they go and by the people who share the space.  When a child hears a parent comment in disgust, “Will you look at her hair!” not only is judgment being modeled, but so is intolerance.  When the environments inhabited by children promote a culture of acceptance, so children will learn that difference is just a part of normal.

This blog is the second in a series being written in response to the trial of  Brandon McInerney, the teen  who is on trial for shooting Larry King, a fellow student who was a cross dresser.

 My block is filled with kids of all ages, nursery through high schoolers. And their house Halloween decorations began appearing last week.  Next door to me there is a menagerie of scary guys and body parts, bushes dripping with spider webs. Across the street there is a whole array Halloween creatures, hanging ghosts, spiders, and a witch or two.  Down the block there is a graveyard covering the entire front lawn. Beyond that are houses and shrubbery covered with cob webs, ghoulish things, witches, ghost, skeletons, and pumpkins of all varieties.  In short, I live in Halloween heaven. And it’s all created by kids with a parental assist perhaps.

When my children were growing up not once did we purchase a costume at Ahhs. In fact, figuring out what each wanted to be and how to make that happen was a big part of the holiday thrill.  The build up to Halloween for weeks before was as much fun as the night itself.    By the time Halloween rolled around, they were completely invested in the night as a result of all they had planned and created—costumes to candy collection containers, house decorations to carved pumpkins and cooked seeds, trick-or-treat game plan to candy sorting and storage strategies —it was all theirs. And it was especially exciting and memorable just because of it.

 When did it become okay for grown-ups to horn in on Halloween?  I understand that some adults love it as an opportunity to let loose. Their costumes come with one-night-only-permission to be Lady Gaga or Peyton Manning. That’s not what I am talking about.

 I don’t understand adults who enjoy scaring children, jumping out from behind the trick-or-treat door. I don’t understand adults who come to my door and dig into the candy dish, right along with their children.  I don’t understand why this just can’t be a kid’s holiday.

 It’s sad enough that children don’t make their costumes anymore. It’s disappointing enough that our neighborhoods aren’t safe enough for the children to trick-or-treat without an adult holding their hands.   It’s bad enough that Halloween has become larger than life, as big as Christmas, it seems.  Can’t Halloween just be childlike without all the bells and whistles and fancy stuff? 

 By the way, there are no Halloween lights on my block. Who needs them? It’s the kids who bring the sparkle to my block.

There really isn’t more I need to write here. You who are taking the time to read this blog know exactly how I feel and what I am going to say.

When I was writing the Introduction to my book, You’re Not the Boss of Me, I seriously considered having only a single sentence on the page: Be the person you want your child to be. We all want our children to be honest, respectful, self reliant, and manifest all the myriad character traits that put them in the position to have options and lead a satisfying life. Can’t you hear the woman from temple lecturing her children about paying attention and showing respect and all the rest!

Being a parent is a job; it isn’t a birthright. It comes loaded with responsibilities (and yields tremendous pleasure.) You might as well have signed the contract right after the doctor handed you that tiny newborn: I accept the responsibilities that come with being a parent.

After Love your child, number two on that list is Be your child’s teacher. Seems obvious, I know. But there are those who just don’t get it. There is the mom who insists on respectful talk and yells at the parking attendant… in front of her child. There is the perfectly healthy dad who preaches honesty and tells his colleague that he can’t make the appointment because he isn’t feeling well…in front of his child. You know the mom who demands that her child not use the word “stupid,” the one who screams out “Stupid driver!” to the car in front of her. And we all know the dad who insists on his child’s full attention who himself can’t resist looking at his BlackBerry at the dinner table, during story time, or when he’s just walked into the house.

Children are the first to spot character and value hypocrisy. In fact, their learning is cemented by noticing consistency in the world. Oh Daddy, you said the S word! They look to you, their first teacher, for validation of what you have taught. Every day in so many ways you have the chance to model your expectations for your children and bring the lesson home.

Remember this, your children will do what you do, not what you say.

What could a 9 year old possibly do to cause an adult to punch his son—or anyone—with a closed fist—with a pinky finger? I just can’t make sense of this one.  Did he play poorly? Did he not try hard? Was he goofing around?  Did he not do as his father, the coach, asked? Was he being a smart alec? Did he stick his tongue out? What? Even if he yelled an unmentionable at the top of his lungs, I still can’t fathom a man  hitting a child, any child.

 There are so many directions one could go in reacting to this heinous behavior. I could address parents who are overly invested in their child’s performance at school, on the ice rink, on the ball field. I could discuss the parent who makes it his child’s job it is to meet his dream of achievement.  I could even go on and on about anger management.

 While I don’t know what really happened on the field that day, I do know one thing for sure: Lots of children  must have witnessed that scene, and for sure his own son did.  I can promise you, that boy got more than black eye from his father.

Parents are children’s primary teachers. Children learn more from watching their parents than by anything that that is said to them, even if it is accompanied by a wagging index finger and eyebrows knitted together.  “Do as I say, not as I do” is an expression of the past, and it just doesn’t work.  Parents model, day in and day out, how to be in the world. You can talk until you are blue in the face, but what you do is what your children will learn.  Not only will your behavior communicate your expectations for behavior, but it is also how your child develops his own system of values.

 Children spot hypocrisy more quickly than you can imagine. Yelling at your child not to yell at you because it is disrespectful is a message and a lesson. Jay walking because you are in terrible hurry erases your warnings of never to jay walk.  Speaking rudely to a waitress, to your own mother, to your own spouse negates your preaching the importance of treating people kindly and with respect.  It is your actions that model the lessons you want your children to learn.

 I wonder what lesson’s Mel Gibson’s 8 children learned from him last week.

Derek does all kinds of work on cars, and on the weekends he and his son keep my car and those of lots of my neighbors in tip-top shape. He’s a really interesting guy. We talk basketball, healthcare reform, the state of LA city schools. You name it, we have chewed on it.

This is an amazing scene, I thought as I was transfixed on this father and son team.  Every single Saturday and Sunday they spend at least 16 hours together, washing, waxing, detailing cars.  I wondered if they knew how lucky they both are, if they appreciate the significance of their hours together every single weekend. I left my kitchen perch. “Hey guys. I have been watching you two yakking it up, and I just wanted to tell you how cool I think it is to see a father and son working together, chatting it up, chewing the fat, schmoozing. Do you know how great that is?” They both just smiled, nodded, and were silent.  And then the son said, “My dad and I are really close. We talk about everything.”

How many dads would, seriously, trade places with Derek?

Derek added, “Last week I was doing this guy’s car and he came out to show me his new Rolex and to tell about the car he was thinking about buying.  I have it so much better than he does,” Derek said with total conviction. I punctuated his comment with my two cents, “No one ever lies on his death bed wishing he had worked harder at the office or earned more money.”  Derek knew just what I was talking about.

Derek has been bringing his son with him to work on cars on the weekends since he was five years old.  As his son grew up, Derek discovered that he really valued his son’s help. They were a team in getting the work done. Soon another brother is going to be joining them on the job. Ten years ago when this father-son team first got going, Derek didn’t know the gift he was giving his son and himself.

We know how important fathers are in the lives of children. Their involved, active participation in their kids’ daily lives influences all aspects of their development, from social skills to cognitive development. There’s lots of research to support this reality.  But influence isn’t just occasional.  Derek is impacting his sons’ lives every single day and most especially on the weekends.

Can you imagine what kind of fathers Derek’s sons will be? Can you imagine how they will describe their own relationships with their dad as they were growing up?  Now would you trade places with Derek?

 Last week a news story rocked the world of major league baseball.  Armondo Galarraga of the Detroit Tigers pitched a perfect game…almost.  By so doing he would have joined the elite ranks of a very few ball players in the history of the game. It was quite a feat. But he didn’t get credit for it; his accomplishment got derailed by an umpire’s call.  Now here is the amazing part of the story.  After the game had ended, umpire Jim Joyce stepped out in public to say that the call he had made which destroyed the perfect game, was in fact, wrong.  It was a bad call.  He had made a mistake.  No excuses. Bad call. Wow!

 The sports world went wild.  It wasn’t fair!  Galarraga was robbed!  He should have had that perfect game.  Everyone had an opinion. Here’s mine:  Bravo!

 Doing the right thing isn’t always easy. Sometimes it brings disappointment or embarrassment;  sometimes it feels bad, hurts someone’s feelings (albeit unintentionally) or cause someone to suffer consequences;  sometimes you are villainized.  But in the end, you are left with the best feeling of all:  You did the right thing. That means you get to awaken with a clear conscience. You can look at yourself in the mirror and stand tall. With all that you risk in making the tough call—doing the right thing—the greatest reward is your positive, authentic sense of yourself.

Our world is chock full of glaring examples of people who have not made the right choice. From Bernie Madoff to Lindsay Lohan, sports heroes to politicians, coaches to clergymen, friends to family members. They are everywhere, and our children hear about them. 

 But how often to we and our children hear about someone who has done the right thing? How often do people step up and admit their mistakes, without any excuses? Not often enough.  How can we expect our children to step up when the models in their lives do not?

Making a mistake is how children learn not to make that mistake. Being able to own that mistake is an important part of the process, part of the learning and the growing.

 You may be furious at Jim Joyce for raining on Armando Galarraga’s parade. He didn’t get his perfect game.   But he is my hero. Tell your kids about it.

 I think the [delete name] Pony Baseball Association should consider eliminating playoffs for the younger players (Pintos).  My Pinto player’s team has already lost and it was devastating for him and me. Age 7, 8, and 9 is too early for that kind of serious competition.

 There are so many parts to this letter on which I could and should comment. However, for now I just want to focus on the phrase  “…it was devastating for him and me.”  Was this child’s team’s loss in a Little League play-off game really devastating to the mother?  Wow. That was a big investment she must have been putting in her child’s extracurricular activity.

 It is no coincidence that when a couple is pregnant, it is said that they are “expecting.”  Your child is born loaded with all your expectations.  You expect him to be an artist or an athlete or a math whiz. You expect him to be friendly, well mannered, and appropriate. You expect him to go to Harvard (just like you did.) It’s a wonder that he even able to pass through the birth canal, he is so laden with all your expectations!  And then he is born. Voila!  Your child is his own person. You are outgoing; he is slow-to-warm up. You are an athlete; he prefers more cerebral, sedentary activities.  You love reading; he would rather toss baskets hour after hour.  Do you love him any less?  Of course not.  Sooner or later you discover that your job is to raise your child to be who he is, not what you expect him to be.  The former just won’t work anyway.

 I am reminded of a relative who bounced from focus to focus in her schooling, each new field reflecting what she thought her parents wanted her to do. First she was pre med, then environmental studies, then English.  It took her forever, long after college, to figure out what she wanted to do.

 And then there are the children who are saddled with fulfilling their parents’ dreams.  Maybe your child will be the writer you weren’t, the tennis player you aren’t, the piano player you always wanted to be.  It is hard enough to live your own dreams without having to live those of your parents, too.

 Growing up is supposed to be seasoned with myriad experiences— happy, sad, thrilling, disappointing, and yes, devastating.  That’s how a child learns to survive those experiences, by having and getting through them. It is a necessary part of growing up. And yes, sometimes 7, 8, and 9 year olds lose in the first game of the play-offs. Every year brings a new season, just ask the Phoenix Suns.

  A parent’s job is to love and support her child through it all, to be a container for his feelings, but not add to his load with her own devastation. Likely he had enough just on his own and he would have weathered the reality just fine had his mother not added her own disappointment to his load.

But the cute is not what stuck with me. Several days later, I am thinking about the stark contrast in the way the Japanese and the American babies were parented compared to the African and Mongolian babies.  The African baby was gnawing on a fat stick he plucked out of the dirt. Splinters, dirt, ants, fungus…yuck! Obviously teething, he chewed away. Flash to the sanitized environment of the American baby in his Parent and Me class, daddy swaying to the song about Mother Earth, as they sat on their acrylic carpet squares.

Then there was the Mongolian baby who appeared to have more animals than adults in his life. Like self rising flour, he seemed to be raising himself amidst the raw life on the plain.  He crawls through the obstacle course provided by the legs of  a herd of calves, and the audience waits for him to be trampled.  Contrast that scene to the Japanese baby who is under the constant eye of her mommy or daddy or Gymboree teacher, getting her prescribed movement experience.

In the past weeks as I have launched my new book, I have been speaking to parents all over the country. Among the many points I aim to make, is the need for parents to let go of their death grip.  How can young children ever cultivate independence and self reliance if parents are holding on so tightly? Children need to struggle and fall in order to learn how to pick themselves up and survive.  Dr. Spock said, “A child who has not been well bandaged has not been well parented.”

I am not suggesting that you place your children’s dinner of mush down on the floor and let them all go for it in a giant feeding frenzy, including smushing the white goo on the youngest sibling’s head. Nor am I condoning a child sharing his bath water with the family goat. I am abundantly grateful for all that we, in our disease free, safety precaution filled America, are able to offer our children. But Babies sure made me think twice about the good parts of what children learn when they are sometimes left alone.