Why haven’t my kids read the books?

I do like consulting an expert. First sign of parental crisis, I pick up a book. I am that apocryphal mother who, if she dropped her baby, would pick him up with one arm and reach for Dr Spock with the other. My only problem is that my kids don’t seem to have read the same books as me.

Take the child that won’t eat healthily. Having convinced myself that my chubby children were about to keel over from starvation when they refused their greens three days in a row, I consulted a famous childcare expert, Miriam Stoppard. Involve your children in food preparation, she advised. This way they’re more likely to eat it. Cookery expert Annabel Karmel had some wackily creative suggestions, so I set to with gusto.

It took me three days and two full dishwasher loads to clear up the resulting chaos. I only survived because I was fortified by a week’s supply of Fairy Toadstools (tomatoes precariously balanced on hard-boiled eggs, tastefully arranged on a bed of cress) and Potato Hedgehogs (don’t ask), which everyone had refused to eat. “But Mummy, green fings is poisnosnos” I could see their point I guess. When do they ever come back from playgroup with a painting to hear you say “Lovely darling, now why don’t you eat it?” Oh yes, creating our edible garden was definitely a fun activity, but who said anything about consuming the end product?

The advice in books always sounds so reasonable, doesn’t it? Pure common sense, it must work, we think. What we fail to remember is that children are not reasonable, and common sense won’t materialise until your child is at least twenty-five.

Take the advice in Penelope Leach’s books. Children will be nice if their parents are calm and reasonable, seeing the world through child-centred eyes. I’ve tried being calm and reasonable with my children, and boy do they think it’s great! Mummy’s being ineffectual, we can ignore her completely. Dr Leach reckons you should hug your child when he has a tantrum; he may feel scared from being out of control. I tried this and needed osteopathy for two weeks afterwards. Scared? My toddler thought it was great fun wrestling a prone Mummy. I suppose at least the diversion factor stopped the tantrum, but it did nothing for my back, I can tell you.

Christopher Green’s famous book Toddler Taming, made me feel a bit better when I read that he doesn’t agree with the firm hug technique. Diversions, he says, are best for heading off tantrums. Well yes I have found this works. I can easily be diverted to the bottom of the garden or a different aisle in the supermarket when my toddler throws a tantrum now. “Yes shocking” I agree with the shopping bags on wheels brigade, “imagine leaving your child on his own making a noise like that. I wonder who his mother is?” I can’t linger too long moralising with them in case they notice I don’t have a trolley myself and put two and two together.

I’ve read that it helps if you Model Good Behaviour. This theory is that children will do what you do, not what you say, so model what you want them to do. Well I’ve spent hours on the Naughty Chair in the Time Out corner (and its uncomfortable, believe me), but when I finally emerged to see where they’d all got to, they were lounging in front of the TV, completely oblivious. I’ve modelled eating greens till I’m fed up with them too, but no one is rushing to copy that. Oh yes, there is one behaviour they have decided to emulate - my “oh sh*t” emergency phrase.

Star charts – now there’s another method favoured by the childcare gurus. If your child earns so many stars, he will earn a reward. Good capitalist stuff. One thing’s for certain, my kids won’t be ripped off in the big wide world; they sussed the rewards system really quickly. “Tidy your room” I suggest. “How many stars will I get?” There then follows some rapid mental calculations. “No, it’s not worth it. I want five stars at least.” At this rate we’ll all be bankrupt. Which guru was it that said, “children don’t need expensive toys – they are just as happy with old toilet rolls and empty boxes”? They’ve obviously never met my kids.

Be assertive, Steve Biddulph says. I asserted and asserted that it was bath time, and my children assertively ignored me. Finally I lost my cool completely, picked up the oldest and nearest offender and hurled him into the bath fully clothed. I then gave myself some “Time Out” – a quick glass of something splashed over tinkly ice in the kitchen. When I crept back upstairs to see what had happened, all three children had gone to bed, tucked themselves in and read each other a story. Incredible! The bedraggled tie took a bit of explaining at school the next day, but I think it was worth it. None of the manuals even mention this as a strategy though, so I must admit I am beginning to wonder if I have really bought the right books?

At least I’m not alone in my obsession. The biggest shelf in my local shop is overflowing with self-help books. How to get a life. How to become beautiful and desirable overnight using old potato skins and positive thinking. I’ve decided the answer is to write my own book, and get someone else to look after the kids while I’m busy sharing my wisdom with the world. My creation is going to be called “Kicking the habit; how to stop needing self-help books.” I reckon it will outsell them all….

© Caroline Deacon

article appeared in Junior May 2001