What time is bedtime for kids?

Quite unintentionally I have gotten into discussions with other moms about bedtime lately. By this, I don't mean the routine of it, I mean the actual time you put your children to bed. Having done a lot of reading on the importance of routine and sleep for children, I have a pretty good idea of the recommended number of hours children should sleep in a day. I know consistency is best. I know having a routine works. My kids (ages 1, 4, and 6) have a bedtime of 7:30. This translates to the 1 year old in her crib sleeping by 7:30 each night and the 4 and 6 year olds in their beds ready to sleep at 7:30 and sleeping by 8:00. We get up in the morning somewhere between 6:30 and 7am so this equals a good amount of sleep for them. I have a friend who abides by the same kind of schedule. Her 6 year old has a bedtime of 7:30, her 8 year old - 8:00 and her 10 year old - 8:30. Again, it works for them. The kids are well rested and wake up naturally in the morning with good energy for the day. What I haven't told you yet is that both of us are born North Americans (I'm Canadian and she's American by birth). We were both raised with the same Western notions of bedtime.
Another friend of mine is from Pakistan. She's been in Canada for a year and a half and really has a difficult time with the Western notion of bedtimes for children. In her culture supper before 8pm is considered early (we eat at 6pm in our house) and generally bedtime is closer to 10:00. She has adjusted somewhat for the sake of her 6 year old son for school (feeding him dinner at 8:30 and then putting him to bed), but the idea of eating earlier and putting your children to bed earlier really takes her back.
Similarly, I babysit a child whose parents have immigrated here from Romania. The mother was telling me that she was so happy that she got her son to sleep at 9:30 the night before (he's 2). She is finding it difficult to wake him at 7 in the morning. 9:30! I thought. Oh my goodness, I couldn't fathom having my kids up that late. 9:30 for me is my time to visit with my husband and relax before I go to bed. You should have seen the look on her face when I told her my kids' bedtimes. She was floored. She grew up watching bedtime stories on TV during the 9:00 hour and the notion of putting her child to bed before 9pm is inconceivable to her.
Another child I babysit has parents from Iran. On his child profile sheet the bedtime is listed as anywhere from 10pm to midnight. Wow! Again, I think it is a cultural thing. They are having a difficult time waking him up on his daycare days because they are so used to sleeping until 11am/noon. Getting up to go to classes and have him at daycare for 9am is a stretch.
This all triggered a memory of an ex-student of mine years ago. He was in grade 1 and was really grumpy and having behavior issues in the classroom. I met with his parents to talk about it. On a hunch, I asked about his bedtime. Their answer was, "oh, 10, 10:30" This child's family was from India originally. This particular school started at 8:25am. I suggested that they try putting him to bed at 8:30 at the latest just to see what happens. They did. The improvement in his behavior at school was remarkable. You wouldn't believe it was the same child. Here I am so many years later just learning why his bedtime had originally been so late, it was their culture to do so.
I don't know about you, but I find this all fascinating. Here in Canada we have based our work days and school calendars on the old agrarian schedule. Up at dawn and meals at 7, noon and 5 (or thereabouts). We are also a country now that is truly made up of so many different cultures. Bedtime is just one aspect of this that shows where we come from.

Some Days, I Just Don't Have it in Me

I have been a stay at home mom for five and a half years now, and I must tell you, it is not a natural fit for me. By nature I am extremely extroverted, approval oriented, and enjoy a high level of intellectual stimulation and novelty. Routine bores me. Doing things the same way everyone else does them bores me. Cleaning rice and yogurt and juice and jam off the floor a hundred times a day and answering the same question ten times in a row really, really bores me. Reading "What Do People Do All Day" all day can make me despair for my sanity, never mind putting someone in time out for the same thing ten times in a row.

A lot of days, I feel guilty that I don't enjoy my job. I live in a town with a lot of retirees, so you don't know how many times a week someone says to me, "These days go by so fast -- enjoy every moment of them". And some days I feel like answering back -- "Can you make them go by any faster?"

Some days, when I have dealt with a 5 yr old screaming, a 3 yr old dumping all the toys on the floor again, and a 3 month old nursing every 30 min., I don't have it in me to enjoy the day. I really want to smile and savour the one sweet moment where my 3 yr old helps me wash the dishes, and the two boys stop arguing and play together happily for 20 minutes. But I find that I am too emotionally drained and busy trying to keep our house functioning to feel anything at all.

Now don't get me wrong -- this is not my constant state. There are days when I love being a parent. When I see my boys running around in the costumes I made and collected for them and my baby wakes up happy and smiling at me, and my 3 yr old tell me I'm the most beautiful mommy in the whole world . . . I treasure those moments.

I guess I just wish people would be a little more honest about how difficult it is to raise small kids. I wish someone would say that it is hard, draining work and sometimes your only goal is to get everyone, yourself included, through the day. You know what, I really appreciate it when older women say to me, "I remember what it was like to be in your place. You are doing a great job. Make sure you take care of yourself." or "Been there, done that. You'll get through it."

I know that I spend a lot of time beating myself up for not "feeling" the way I'm supposed to feel as a parent. I feel guilty that I'm not enjoying every moment of this crazy time. I feel guilty that some days my children push all my buttons and leave me exhausted and drained by the end of the day, and I dream about going back to work, or having grandparents to send them to for the afternoon.

I recently decided that this is silly. Some days, my children are difficult to deal with, and I am not a very clever or sane mama by the end of the day. Some days, parenting is hard work. And some days, I just need to tell myself, "This is hard work. Its okay to not feel blissed out all the time. My children will get older and this or that stage will pass. I still love them, even though I don't feel it right this second. " And I need to remind myself that these feelings mean that it is time to take care of myself for a little while, even if it means the kids watch an extra video or eat pancakes for supper again. Because this will mean the next day, I will have it in me to enjoy my kids again. For a little while, anyway.

Clever Thoughts: Brush Your Child's Teeth Thoroughly

I know, I know, not very profound today.

But then, I spent my second hour long session holding my 5 year old's arms down and saying, "Wiggle your toes, don't move your head. Hold your head still so the dentist can work quick so we don't have to come back. Breathe through your nose. Its okay. Hold still. They're almost done with the drill."

Before we got into our first appointment with the dentist (a pediatric one we had to wait to see and drive two hours to get to), my son was having trouble chewing meat and uncooked vegetables because his teeth were sore. He was choking down bigger pieces of meat and having stomach problems because he wasn't chewing properly. He stopped eating salad, carrot sticks, crusts on bread, seeds and nuts, and numerous other crunchy foods he had previously loved last winter. I can imagine it will take us a few months to get to the place where he is comfortable eating those foods again.

We have brushed our older child's teeth every night. But he is very sensitive and intense and has a killer choking reflex. So for about a year, to really get in there you had to hold him down with your leg, hold his mouth open with one hand and brush with the other to get those back teeth clean. Needless to say, we didn't always brush the back teeth as thoroughly as we should have.

And we gave him milk in bed after his teeth were brushed. Soy milk, since he's allergic to cow's milk. About 2 months ago (after the first session with the dentist) it occurred to me that soy milk has a lot more sugar than cow's milk. So now he gets water. As does my 2 year old. I certainly don't want to have to go through this with a second child, if I can help it.

So that is my very practical clever thought this week. Take care of your child's teeth, even if they make a big fuss about it every night for a year or two (or three . . . ). Later on you will both be glad that you did.

Clever Thoughts: Letting Other Mamas Be

On one of the forums I frequent, I am in a Due Date club for women having babies in November. It is a crunchy forum, and the women who post there have a big diversity of views. Some women are planning to give birth at home, some at birthing centers and some in hospitals. Some women are dead set against using any medication during child birth, don't want to be induced and will refuse any interventions unless there is an emergency. I am a little more flexible -- I took pain medication with my first birth, but not with my second, and I gave birth in a hospital because it was impractical for me to give birth at home. One of the topics that has come up is getting angry at women who are choosing to have a birth with more interventions.

I can understand this perspective. I find it hard when I hear other women's birth stories and I can tally in my head the number of un-necessary interventions they underwent, and the resulting difficulties in their birth. I am a little dismayed that a lot of women don't even consider experiencing natural childbirth. I am sad that women didn't do more research when I find out that they are experiencing a lot of physical difficulties after birth because they made a decision to allow an intervention that they later regretted or that had bad side effects.

But then, my first labour was 13 hours, and my second was 3. I was healthy, and did not experience any complications in either of my pregnancies. Neither of my babies were breech or overdue, or experienced any other serious medical conditions during labour and birth. I have had it easy.

In this arena, as in so many other areas of parenting, I have learned to just let others be. So often it is easy to quickly judge a woman by her choices in regards to birth, breastfeeding or parenting. We compare them to our own, and can quickly dismiss her as a friend simply because she has different opinions. But I have found that equally as often, when I hear the full story of why they made their choices, I can understand. I have never been in their place. If I had been in labour for two days with no sleep, I might choose to get an epidural, too. If I was experiencing post-partum depression and had a low milk supply, and very little support or information on how to change the situation, I would likely switch to formula, too. In these and so many other situations, I have learned that what is important is the story that underlies the choice, rather than the choice itself.

Let's try to make a practice of really listening to one another. It is through hearing the stories of other mamas without judging that we come to build true friendships. It is through dialogue, not judgement and derision, that we can share information and experiences that might be invaluable. And you never know: that mama with a completely different parenting style might just teach you something about discipline, or about listening to and nurturing your children, that you wouldn't have known otherwise.

Clever Thoughts -- Setting the Tone

In my worst moments, I tend to let everything in my life slide into chaos. This is partially because I enjoy the swirling adrenaline rush of chaos, and mostly because I am easily bored by routine and repetition. I would rather think up some new and novel way of doing things every few weeks, in order to keep my mind occupied, than keep to a functional schedule that works. I tend to get caught up in grand schemes and plans rather than actually attending to the things going on around me.

Unfortunately, this is not a very effective way to operate as a parent of small children, especially if one is the primary care giver and home manager. So every few months, when things start spiraling into chaos, I tend to get frustrated. My first reaction is to get angry at my children for not being innately good and well behaved, and then frustrated with the lack of self-cleaning my house seems to be capable of. I wonder when someone will invent a machine to fold and put away my laundry. I wonder why no one has thought to create a carpet that eats dirt. I wonder how long it will take my children to figure out that eventually someone is going to get hurt if they keep swinging plastic golf clubs around.

Then the realization dawns: There is a miraculous invention whose purpose is to teach children to be well behaved, to tidy up after themselves, and to put down that golf club before someone gets hurt. It is called a parent. It is actually my job to set the tone for my household. It is my job to make sure everyone is clean and fed and relatively content and disciplined. If I think the kids need a new activity, it is up to me to pull out the playdoh, or the crayons, or shoo everyone out the door and off to the park. If I think someone is about to get hurt, it is up to me to stop the dangerous activity. If I think something needs to be changed around our house, or in our daily or weekly schedule, it is my job to figure out and implement that change. If I don't do it, it will not get done.

Inevitably, if I don't set the tone, my children will. And soon, things will resemble W.B. Yeats' Second Coming:
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned

And we don't want that, do we?

Clever Thoughts -- Self Image and Parenting

I have a secret to tell you all. Most people would not believe it when they first meet me, but I am quite insecure. Completely overconfident in my ability to do anything I put my mind to, but not particularly good at liking myself. I don't like how excitable and emotional I can be. I don't like how dramatic I can be about everything. I don't like the fact that the humm of the computer in our study or the sound of the water heater in the basement can drive me crazy. I don't like that my list of interests and activities is so ecclectic and nerdy, or that sometimes I say things that make people stare at me like I have a second brain growing out of the side of my head. It drives me crazy that I can tell you all about the role of the chorus in Ancient Greek drama, but couldn't tell you what street my friends live on or what I am planning to do next Thursday. Essentially, there are a lot of things that bug me about myself.

There are a lot of things that bug me about my oldest son, too. Like the fact that he can get so caught up in the story that is going on in his head that he can't remember to put his shoes on. Or that he refuses to wear certain clothes because he doesn't like the feel of them against his body. It drives me crazy that he is interested in things that seem so odd and that he puts ideas together sideways sometimes to come up with weird and novel games. I wonder why he can use his blocks to build these fantastic, dreamlike structures, but has to come home and practice so he can build a rectangular car lot like his friends at school. I wonder why he has to scream every time something surprises him, why we have to have a daily drama about wether he can have a third cup of juice or not, and why he can get so excited about things that he is literally feverish.

Since school is back in, here is a little exercise for you: Compare and contrast the two lists above. You might notice something. The things that bug me about my son are, in essence, identical to the things that I do not like about myself. They are the things that got me teased at school, and that have made it hard for me to live in my family. They are the things that have made me vulnerable and the things that frustrate those around me. They are also some of my greatest strengths and the things that make me the unique individual that I am. They are the things people find endearing, and the things that fuel my creative, if rather scatterbrained, way of being. They are the things that are most essential to my personality.

I am coming to the realization that I need to learn to accept myself more. Not for my own sake, so much as for my son's sake. If I want him to be comfortable in his own skin, I have to show him the positive sides of the traits we share. It is my responsibility to teach him how to cope with the annoying noises and textures and incongruities that irritate both of us. It is my responsibility to help him tame his intensity so that he can express it in a way that is socially acceptable, instead of pushing it aside until it burst through in bouts of strange, over dramatic behavior. It is my responsibility to give him the tools to sort through his intense thoughts, feelings and experiences so that he is not overwhelmed by them. It is my responsibility to learn to like and manage myself so that I can help him to like and manage himself.

Clever Thoughts -- Read Good Books to you Kids

Mama culture these days is big into nutrition. We are encouraged to watch what we eat while we are pregnant, breastfeed, serve whole foods to our toddlers and preschoolers, and avoid fast foods, hydrogenated fats and processed everything with our older children when ever possible. Ironically, food marketers have caught on to this push, and now offer "trans fat free" Coco Puffs and candy made with "real fruit juice". McDonalds reminds us that their chicken nuggets contain "protein". On a bad day, these processed, pretend healthy foods can be easy to give in to. We can say to ourselves, "Well, at least it contains real fruit" as we hand Jonny his third package of electric blue fruit snacks to keep him quiet during rush hour.

In a similar way, we are encouraged to do all kinds of strange things to boost our child's brain power and early literacy skills. Flashcards with giant photos of apples and red triangles are made of chunky cardboard so we can start using them with our 6 month old (does chewing a book count as an early literacy experience?). Books of computer generated, flat characters with badly rhymed couplets teach our toddlers about counting and opposites. Television characters of every description appear in "learn to read" books that are really just brief summaries of an episode of their show. Kids eat these books up as fast as the fruit snacks or fries, and we can think "Well, at least they're reading something."

But are they reading something that will encourage a healthy enjoyment of literature in the future? Will it help them develop an awareness of word and language play? Will it give them an appreciation of plot devices, character development and story structure? Will the pictures encourage their enjoyment of colour, line, form, movement and expression in art? Will the book feed their minds and souls, or will it simply fill up their empty tank of literacy experience with garbage?

You might be thinking, "There are no picture books that can do all that!". I beg to differ. If you look at many perennial favorites -- the books our parents read to us and our grandparents read to them -- you will find books that develop more than just early literacy skills. They develop an enjoyment of playful language, vivid characters and fast moving, interesting plots.

Take a Dr. Seuss classic like Green Eggs and Ham for example. It contains two quickly drawn but distinct characters - the grumpy, pessimistic naysayer and the ever hopeful and enthusiastic Sam-I-Am. It contains all kinds of repetition, rhyme, and language play. Its plot is basic but contains a conflict (will he eat the eggs and ham or not?), a rising action (the various animals and vehicles are added to the words and pictures), a climax (the train careening into the boat and everything crashing), a reversal (he likes the eggs and ham) and a conclusion. Seuss' simple line drawings contain all kinds of expression and action and silly sight jokes to be found by the attentive viewer. This book introduces children not only to literacy (the ability to read words on a page), but to language play, plot structure and simple comic devices.

I love reading books like these to my boys. They giggle and laugh at the same places every time. They repeat the phrases over and over. They insist that I read these books to them for weeks at a time. They sit and look at the pictures and point out subtle details of expression and action to me. It feels good to read them to my children again and again, just like it feels good when you can sit down and serve your family a home cooked meal.

So do yourself and your children a favour. Don't buy into the hype of prepackaged, processed reading materials. Search out good books for your kids. And read them together whenever you can. And if they occasionally want to snack on a horrible summary of the latest Spiderman movie, let them indulge. You know that generally, most of the time, their minds are well fed.

There is a great list of Twaddle free books over at Simple Mom. Check out her top ten favorites, and then scroll through the comments for a huge list of authours other people (including me) love.

What is your favorite Good Book to read to your child?

Clever Thoughts -- Tame vs Civilized

Do you remember Deep Thoughts, by Jack Handy? I'm dating myself, I know. But I thought I would make Tuesday our day for slightly less irrelevent Clever Thoughts. I am known for beginning lengthy monologues with the phrase: "I have a theory about that, actually . . . ". So I thought it would be fun to post some of those, along with ideas and activities and occasionally products that are, well, clever.

I have a cat. She is generally referred to by others as the "Do you still have that evil cat in your basement?" cat. Her name is Beckett (serves me right for naming my cat after a reclusive, postmodern playwright). She lives in my house, and she is tame -- she can not catch a mouse, and she would survive in the wild for about 10 seconds. But she is definitely not civilized. She hisses and growls at everyone but me, and only really pays attention to me when she is hungry or when she wants to sit on my sewing.

My children, conversely, are definitely not tame. When they arrive at the park, most of the other parents are taken aback as my two boys tear around the park, ignoring the equiptment and yelling, "I'm BATMAN" and making shooting noises. They like to wear stripes and checks in contrasting colours at the same time. They tend not to give the "right" answer to questions, or do the playgroup craft in the proper order (they do the cutting and gluing before the colouring). They climb big rocks by themselves and run up and down the sidewalk in front of our house relatively unsupervised. They are just a little bit wild.

But I am trying to teach them to be civilized. To respect others and treat them with kindness and compassion. To think about how their actions effect their friends and family, and society as a whole, rather than just doing what is best for them. To respect authority figures and obey the rules of the house. To follow the rules that matter -- the ones that allow us all to live together well -- but not to conform simply for the sake of conformity. To gain the self confidence that comes through overcoming adversity and acting virtuously. I would like to teach them to be the sort of people who make civilization work.

Really civilized people are not always tame -- they stand up when others fall back and hide in the crowd. They speak out when something needs to be said, but no one has the courage to say it. They take risks and rise to challenges and reject mediocrity. They stand out and, like Aslan in the Chronicles of Narnia, they might not be safe, but they are good.

How would you define the difference between tame and civilized?