Padmajav’s Weblog

Yesterday, my son went on a field trip from school. He was taken to a nearby higher secondary school, specifically to the science lab, so that these four-year-olds can get familiarised with the subject.

When I went to pick him up later, I was told most of the children enjoyed the visit and asked a lot of questions.

After coming back, all the children were asked to draw pictures of what they had learnt or their take on science or something along those lines.

The pictures were then put up outside class to the eager parents.

Most of the children had tried to draw a butterfly or a potted plant or earth and sun or an egg morphing into a butterfly.

The teacher had written down what each child had told her about his/her drawing.

The last drawing is what my son has done. Its nothing but vengeful scribblings with all the colours he could find.

The footnote says, “Monster & a boy. (Skeleton)” I have absolutely no clue what that means.

I know I’m supposed to view with an open mind and all that.

But I’m seriously worried for him…

After that horrendous experience in my son’s school last March, I had frantically tried most of the good schools I could think of inside city limits. (I was tired of driving 10 kms one way!)

Walking into a school in my own neighborhood, I’d fallen in love with what I saw. It had such a friendly ambience, lots of space in front for the kids to run around and fantastically informal & colorful classrooms… Was sure my son would love it too. But as luck would have it, all admissions were closed. I left an application, nevertheless.

When school began in mid-June, I’ had no choice but to send him back to that same distant school. Now I had to make the trip twice. Once to drop him and once to pick him up.

Just when I’d braced myself for that routine, I get a call out of the blue from the school I loved. Am I still interested in a seat for my son?

Of course I am.

I was asked to meet them today.

I’ve just met them and he’s got himself a seat!!

Its just two minutes walk from home and he just loves it!!

Heaven!!

I also heard that some moms out there in the old school were smirking that I came back this year after fighting so much with the management..

So my pride is back too!

Now that my son is going to be four and is proving to be too much of a brat, I’ve started bed-time stories with morals.

After a nerve-racking and nerve-wrecking tantrum session, I stumbled upon a story. Never planned anything, but made up the story as we went along.

It started with a naughty boy who was rude to his mom, mean to his dad and troubled his parents whenever he had to eat a meal or drink his milk.

A monkey watched him for a long time and when he’d had enough, he carried the boy to his tree, locked him up in a cage at the top.

The boy was frightened and started crying for his mom.

“Ha!”, jeered the monkey. “You never respected your mom. Why do you need her now?” asked the monkey.

“I want my Dad!” cried the boy. “Ha!” jeered the monkey again. “You’re mean to your dad. I shall not take you to him”, said the monkey.

“I want food! I’m hungry.” cried the boy.

The monkey burst out laughing. “You never let your mom feed you all these days. Now you want food! Out here we animals eat only leaves. I’ll get you some”, said the monkey.

The boy was so sad, he started praying to God. God came to his aid, argued with the monkey to return the boy to his parents.

After making the boy promise that he’ll behave better at home, the monkey let him go.

God asks him to close his eyes, and says the magic words, “Abracadarbra!”

When he opens his eyes, the boy finds himself back home. He’s so happy to see his parents again, eats his dinner with them and all three of them go to sleep.

At the end of the story, I was very proud of myself. It just kind of evolved into a story which corrected all his vices at one go. Or so I thought.

My son loved it too. He kept asking for it everyday.

After a while, he started adding to it.

Yesterday, I narrated it again. When I came to the part where the monkey says that animals eat leaves, he piped in, “Amma, Giraffe eats leaves.”

“Yes, baby,” I said and continued with the story.

When I reached the part where the boy prays to God, he quickly interjected.

“Not God ma, the boy prayed to the giraffe!” he said.

“No,” I said. No one prays to Giraffes. We only pray to God,” I explained.

“NO! I DON’T LIKE GOD! I WANT ONLY GIRAFFE!” He screamed.

When I started to laugh, he was so mad that he threatened me with dire consequences. (I’ll become a lion and eat you! Don’t laugh!”

Just to make peace, I had to change the story a bit and make the boy pray to the Giraffe and the Giraffe saves him and takes him back to his parents.

And after umpteen sessions, he’s still rude to me, drives me up the wall during nap times and mealtimes and throws tantrums at the drop of a hat.

I guess the moral is for me and not him…

Scriptures say we should see God in all creatures.

Maybe my son sees him in a Giraffe!

Just wrapping up the school issue.

After 2 weeks of all this hullabaloo, the school seems terrified. The story seem to have spread like a wild fire, thanks to parents like me who’s been telling all and sundry, so they can watch out for their kids. So the authorities have suddenly woken up to the fact that its dangerous to let parents inside for more than ten minutes. Especially when there are lot of prospective parents walking into school everyday.

Now parents have been kindly requested to drop their wards in school and go back. No more waiting in the school. And when we come back, we face a security guard and a grilled gate in the lobby and a stern, sour-faced coordinator who lets the children one by one to their waiting parents outside.

On the personal front, my son has not got admission anywhere else. So I just have to brave it out in this fabulous school till November. And pray everyday that I’ll get a positive response from a nice school by then.

The silver lining is that my son seems to be enjoying the school.

Thanks so much, all you guys, for holding my hand through all this. It meant a lot to me when most people were asking me to keep off such things, how my kid may be targeted by the school for my impudence, etc.

My next post is going to be cheerful, I promise.

The last few days have been a whirl…

The day after the Principal’s refusal to meet us, I sat in the school’s lobby waiting for my son.

I was depressed.

I’d spoken to the affected mother and told her subtly, how the school had turned tables and claimed that she’s not a mentally stable person… Told her I’m pulling my son out of this school.

She was still feeling down. Told me she’d just transferred her older son to this school and she’s planning to withdraw him too.

I assured her that its the right decision and asked her look for a school where they treat parents with due respect.

I didn’t send my son to school for the next few days. Went school-hunting. Knocked on the doors of 2 reputed schools in the neighborhood. But since this is not the season for admissions, both the schools asked me to come back next year, in spite of me explaining the reason for the desperate need to change schools.

One school however was sweet enough to let me apply and promised to add us to their waiting list.

On the first school’s suggestion, I tried another school yesterday, but the response was negative.

In the night I touched base with the affected parent.

She said the child has resumed going to school. Because she gets too depressed at home. And she has to prove to people that she’s mentally stable. She also said that she feels this is not going to affect her son in anyway since he’s in a higher grade. So not withdrawing him from this school either.

However she’ll start looking for another school for her daughter next year. Till then she’ll attend this school.

Am I the only fool here, who fought so crazily for a cause, kept my overactive son home for almost a whole week, ran from one school to another, begged and pleaded my case to various authorities and ended up with nothing but bouts of headaches and depression?

I ask myself as I bang my head against the wall.

Stupid, stupid, stupid me…

I signed up my son for a nature trail for toddlers.

Finding the concept extremely cute, I hoped to create magical memories for my child to treasure.

The day dawned bright and sunny. I woke up early, got myself ready and tried to wake him up.

I was a nervous wreck in 30 minutes. I had to drag him for bath, kicking & screaming… He refused to wear the full-sleeved clothing prescribed to protect him from mosquitoes… Refused to drink the milk I placed before him… Refused to eat the jam sandwich I put in his plate… And demanded tea. His wail brought the roof down and I caved in. Brewed his tea with more milk than water (consoling myself that half glass of milk in some form is better than no milk)

Took his own sweet time drinking it, while I was getting palpitations that it was time for us to meet the group at the venue and we were still at home.

Suddenly he announced he wanted to stay back to play with his Thomas Tank engine. I dealt with that too.

Then came the resistance to wearing socks.

This time I completely lost it. I gave him a piece of my mind, grabbed his little feet, stuffed them in a pair of socks, forced a pair of shoes, dragged him out by the scruff of his neck and half carried him down the stairs and dumped him in the car. All of these while I was shouting at him for always dragging his feet and how I never get anywhere on time because of him, so on and so forth.

Just when we turned the street corner, I realised I’d left my mobile back home. “Oh hell! I forgot my phone!” I exclaimed to nobody in particular. “Me too”. Said a small, sad voice from the other side. “I forgot my green color toy phone”

Suddenly my anger vanished and I was filled with with remorse. It was not his fault that we were late, was it? said a small voice in my head. At 3 and a half what sense did being punctual make to him?

I decided to be more tolerant and caring for the rest of the trip. After all, we were making memories here, remember?

Once we reached the venue, which was a park in central chennai, I was dismayed to find that there was no sign of any group. Of course! said another voice in my head. You arrive half an hour late and still expect them to wait around for you?

“Blast! Quick, Come on out!” I instructed my son. “They’ve gone in without us. We have to find them”

He held my hand for dear life while we sprinted into the park. Suddenly, he tugged at my arm. “Let me go!” He screamed. Before I realised what was happening, he had freed himself from my grasp and had run up the play area and was climbing the ladder as fast as he could.

All my earlier frustration returned with full force.

“Get down now!” I thundered. “We’re late for the trail!”

“I don’t want trail!” he bellowed, matching my volume. “I want to play!”

I waited till he slid down the slide, grabbed him by the waist when he was half way down and ran towards the interiors of the park.

Finally I joined the group, disheveled and bent out of shape after all the running and fighting.

The minute I deposited him with the other toddlers, he tried to make a run for the play area again. This time I was smarter. I handed him to one of the organisers and told her to keep a firm reign, since my words have no impact on him. She was a friendly young thing who soon achieved what I’d been failing to do for so long. Control him.

She led him firmly to the trail path and spoke to him cheerfully on what were supposed to be seeing.

The rest of the trail was uneventful. Not boring in the least, though. Just uneventful for my son. He dutifully hugged a tree to hear it drinking water, saw spider webs, observed a bunch of caterpillars on the underside of a leaf (this made him sit up and notice), Saw the roots of an upturned tree and finally sat under a huge tree. By then he was sweating profusely & hungry too. Gobbled up the cookies I’d packed for him and what was offered.

After sticking all the dry leaves we’d collected on to a paper and tracing out leaf patterns, it was time to go.

“Erm.. Can we go through the front gate?” I asked the organiser who’d taken care of my boy earlier. “he’ll just run back to the slides again”

“No, ma’m! We have some more activities planned in our centre to complete this trail. Don’t worry! I’ll bring him”

When there was no sign of both of them after ten minutes, I traced my steps back to the park to find him on a high tower like structure and the organiser standing below, asking him to come down.

“Need any help?” I asked.

“No, ma’m. You go back. I can manage.”

Sure enough she brought him to the centre in no time.

The planned activity was to get each child to plant a sapling and it was given to them as a keepsake.

The girls in the group enthusiastically fought for their turn. And proudly received their plants like a trophy.

My son? He was nowhere in the scene. Unfortunately, the centre had a play area too.

Again, the same young lady volunteered to drag him for planting. He was forcefully deposited in front of the co-ordinator. He dutifully followed her instructions, but was ready to run away at a moment’s notice. But they held him back till he finished planting and watered the plant. In the time it took the lady to bend down to pick up the potted plant to hand it to him, he had streaked off like a bullet. So I sheepishly received it for him.

Anyway that was last weekend.

Today, we were running late for school (as usual!). He was walking down the stairs in slow motion, while I was waiting impatiently in the landing.

He stopped. “Amma, look!” he said. ” A snake!” It was a teeny weeny centipede. “Its not a snake! Its a centipede. Just hurry up! We’re late! ” I yelled.

He squatted down on the step to observe the insect, unmindful of my haste or rising temper. “See, its moving towards a plant.”

Oh! the irony of it is just killing me!!!

Today, I tried time-out again.

But this time, he was very hesitant to get on the chair. I forced him to sit on it.

Sitting close by, I held him by his shoulders to prevent him from getting up.

After a few seconds, he said tearfully, “I don’t want to sit…”

“Will you be a good boy and behave yourself?” I asked sternly.

“Yes…” he replied

“Will you eat your lunch without a fuss?” I demanded.

“Yes…” he replied.

After many such promises, I said, “OK, You can get down now. And if you misbehave or disobey me in any way, I’ll put you back in this chair and its time out for you, alright?”

“OK.” He agreed meekly.

I turned back to go into the kitchen.

I heard a sudden crash.

The time-out chair had landed a few paces behind me, while a very angry young man stood, giving me a menacing look…

Just in case this time-out business had given me the impression of being the one in charge…

So there…

I’m not a very strict mother. Often I do things that helps ease the situation for me and suits my convenience or buys peace immediately even if it means bending the rule or ignoring the rule book. Sometimes I do a lot of things which makes things easier for me than what is good for the child, much to my better half’s chagrin!. And once in a while I get panic attacks when my son totally misbehaves.

But I’m not without self doubts. Yesterday I shared my worry about my son turning into a spoilt little rascal due to my laid-back attitude with  my friend, who’s a mother of teenagers. And she’s undoubtedly the best mom around. I’ve watched her interact with them for many years and she never ceases to amaze me. She’s loving & supportive most of the time and strict where she has to be. The kids have grown up to be responsible, obedient, independent, non-fussy, adjusting, the works.

After listening to me she said, “Now he’s old enough to know his limits. Start giving him ‘time-outs’ when he’s unruly. He has to sit in a chair facing the wall for a given period of time. It’ll be very difficult the first few times. You’ll have to hold him down forcefully. Start with 5 minutes and later increase it to whatever you feel is appropriate”.

Today I had a chance to carry this out. The little imp was cranky on the way back from school. He refused to share a toy with a friend in the car, screamed for no reason and once home, refused to take a bath, but insisted on eating chocolate with his filthy hands. My first impulse was to whack him and drag him to the bathroom, kicking and screaming (what I usually do), ‘but wait!’ my friend’s voice told me in my head. ‘Try time-out’.

So I calmly told him ‘it’s time out for you’ and made him sit on chair facing a wall. “Nobody’s going to talk to you and I don’t want any noise from you either’ I thundered. “Just sit quietly” I stood nearby, so I can force him to sit down if he rebels.

But to my surprise, he complied and sat quietly. So I turned to some pending work at my comp.

After a bit of quiet, I turned to look at him. He was playing with the strings of the blinds. “No!” I bellowed. “No playing” He sat back again looking serious. “This works!” I thought triumphantly. How foolish I was shouting and getting my BP high all these days when I could’ve handled it so coolly!

After a few minutes of silence, he started singing. “No singing!” I said. He tried to tell me something. “No talking!” I told him sternly. He lowered his eyes, then tried to smile at me. I glared back. He turned away, but was looking really pleased. I looked at the clock. “5 minutes up” I told him, moving towards him. “Time-out over!”

“No!” he protested. What? I looked at him. “I want Time-out! I like Time-out!! I want to sit!!!”

I was totally gobsmacked.

Finally I had to drag him kicking & screaming to the bathroom away from the time-out chair…

I know there’s some lesson for me somewhere in this, but I just cannot figure it out…