To Review

The only point of this day's post is to review what I stated in an earlier post (and mostly for only myself):

"Basically, everything I found in my research on biting stated that Edith's biting, while exasperating to her care givers and parents, [is] a completely normal phase that many children go through."

I do not want her biting to be what defines her. It is not what defines her. But I think it's too easy for everyone to get caught up in it. Including me.

The Day of Edith's Doom Part II

Yes, we spanked our child. We spanked our dear, sweet Edith.

All of the new literature out there, all of the current psychologists, all of Edith's pediatrician and teachers, all of the studies I've read, every single Nook reading a Cookbook - everyone out there who is anybody who is anybody says to not spank your child. To put it mildly, spanking is not "in." We were now crossing over to The Dark Side.

Once I had Edith in the car I called her dad and told him we were headed to the house. On the way home I explained to Edith that she had bit again and her dad was coming over and we were going to spank her. Ya know what? I'm going to skip the gory details, but it broke my heart. The Love of My Life did some very good and very stern talking to Edith, making her bawl and squall and I was blowing my nose right along with her. I'm very tough. Very tough indeed. Ha! And if CPS is tracking us down and finds us, I am the one that personally did the spanking when it came right down to it. Four sound smacks on the hind end. It was me. And for the record, I was very proud of The Love of My Life for how he handled the situation, how he was involved in the situation, while all the time resenting him for it because he all calm and collected. Phooey on him!

Later that evening The Love of My Life calls and says one of our old friends....well, wait, this still is his friend just not my friend, suggested play therapy. Play therapy? What the hell is play therapy? I googled it (have I mentioned how much I love google?), and came up with the fact (well, as much as you can call anything from wikipedia.com a fact) that in play therapy a therapist watches children in group play (or engages a single child in play) and psychoanalyzes that child to identify the root cause of their behavioral issues. Sounded like a bunch of hogwash to me, but at this point, I'll try anything, and so will my parenting partner. We decided to consult Edith's pediatrician, since even if we did do this play therapy, we would need a referral from her MD. Besides, she needed a flu shot.

My opinion of her somewhat strange but incredibly intelligent up to this point pediatrician was about to change drastically.

Unrelated note to any concerned members of my phantom fan club:
My roommate thinks the term "Love of My Life" is odd, as my exhusband and I are estranged with no intent to return to the state of marriage. I had to tell her that this has long been my sarcastic term of endearment for the man. It would be great if there was a punctuation that denoted sarcasm. Maybe I'll creat one.....but anyway, The Love of My Life is long to type. I'm considering shortening it to TLML or should it be TLOML? TLML. Or I could just call him Tom and be done with it. Tom. It has a ring to it. Any input from you dears, my phantom fan club, would be greatly appreciated.

The Day of Edith's Doom Part I

So a couple weeks went by with no incident. Sweat Pea and Edith were separated, and life went on (with a few murmered complaints about the separation of the BFF's). Yesterday, I snuck out of work early to go home and sneak in a nap before Edith's gymnastics. I was exhausted. No sooner had I drifted of into a slumber than my phone rings. Sighing, I went to go get my phone, assuming it was one of my employees. I picked it up and saw the missed call. I clicked to view it and my heart sank - it was Edith's school. I have learned that her school does not call just to say "hi." Maybe they should from time to time, because everytime they called I'm instantly filled with a sense of sheer dread.

I called them back. Edith had bit again. At least it was not Sweat Pea this time, so I don't have to worry about her parents coming to my house for shooting practice. But on the other hand, that means the problem is not isolated to Sweat Pea. Jasmine stated that the next time Edith bites, we will have to come and get her. Which means to me, the next step, the next logical step, is that Edith might get expelled from school. It's not inconceivable. I tried to go back to sleep and could not. I texted The Love of My Life a brief synopsis (i.e. Edith bit again), and he soon called me. And I start crying. I am so frustrated.

Now, we agreed long before the evil divorce that we were not going to use corporal punishment with Edith. In the past year when I have mentioned that we might want to go this route, The Love of My Life has been adament that he does not think that it is a solution. So when I mentioned maybe spanking her, I just about fell out of my bed when he said, "Yeah, I think we need to. I've been thinking that." So there it was. Edith's Day of Doom had come. I told him I'd call him after I picked up Edith and we decided he'd come to the house and we'd do this together, as a parental unit. We had some discussion over if we would bite her or spank her, if it would be Mom or Dad, and if we would use a hand or paddle, without reaching any real conclusion except that I didn't think we should bite her. It may leave a mark, and that could be bad news.

I left to go pick her up from school, trying so hard not to cry. I'm embarassed and humiliated. I have visions of Sweat Pea's parents also being there when I arrive at the school. I scan the parking lot. I walk in. I bypass Jasmine's office because I am barely holding it together. I go into Edith's room, and she is in SUPER SWEET mode. She's telling me how they watched a new movie and made smores. And her new teacher is there, and she's saying how great a day Edith had except this one leetle incident. The little boy had been behind Edith in line and he had been playing and tapping on Edith's shoulders, and I guess she didn't like that, and she turned around and tried to bite him on the neck but thank goodness he had on a sweater and so she really barely scratched him. And I lost it. I lost it. I started crying - just like I belonged in the three year old room myself. And I couldn't stop. And here is this 20 year old teacher standing there trying to tell me it's not that bad, don't cry, and so I cry harder... In fact, I'm crying again right now as I type this, so I think we'll have to break this one down into a Part I and Part II.

I haven't even told my brother.

BAM!

So it's 6 o'clock PM on Friday, a week ago to this very day, and my phone rings. My caller ID says it's Edith's school. I double check the house - yep, there she is over there playing. So it's not that I forgot to pick her up! This cannot be good. I answer, and it's the director, Jasmine, and she's upset. I can hear it in her voice. She informs me that a very upset male parent whose name she cannot disclose just left her office and he was extremely upset about my Edith biting his child, whose name she also could not disclose. It took about all of two nanoseconds for what were before isolated chunks of miscellaneous information to quickly conglomerate into a story complete with introduction, plot and character development, climax, and conclusion. BAM! It just about knocked the wind out of me - my brain was reeling with the exploration of this new revelation, my eyes and heart were crying from the blow, and Jasmine was filling me in on how the parent was so upset that she wanted to give me a heads up.

So Jasmine tells me how she doesn't think Edith's biting is that abnormal and she's not all that concerned about it. She tells me how she knows we follow up with her and that there are consequences at home for behavior at school, and how many of her parents act like they could care less when their kid acts out. She thinks we are dealing with it but since this parent was so upset she had to call me. Well, I was upset, too! I was pretty hurt. I kept thinking how I read somewhere once that it is much more difficult for the parent of the child who is biting than it is for the parent of the child is getting bit. I was defensive. I was hurt. I was....pissed. The whole conversation we danced around the fact that I knew who she was talking about and that she knew that I knew who she was talking about but neither of us could say that we knew that the other one knew. Funny games we play. The end result of the conversation was we decided to separate Edith and Sweet Pea as much as possible within the classroom they are in. You see, there are two sections.

After hanging up I lost it on the tear gig. Edith was looking at me funny. I told her what had happened on the phone, and wanted to her to see how sad her behavior makes Mommy. I told her that she and Sweet Pea couldn't play together anymore. Anyway, to make a story short, I then continued to obsess about this for three days straight. It was all I could think of. New emotions slowly but surely started creeping into my heart - sadness, embarrassment, shame, and remorse. But don't let me fool you - I was still pissed too!!!! I decided to confide in my brother. Can you say big mistake? He let me know that his two children had never, ever bit anyone and that this behavior was not normal and that I needed to take Edith over my knee and whop the spoiled brat. He claims she thinks she is in control of the household and everywhere else, and someone else needs to show her who is the boss, and physically. I hold that combating physical aggression with aggression is senseless. I also felt he wasn't making a fair comparison with his children because they never even went to daycare - they stayed home with mommy. But all in all, the conversation made me feel no better, only worse. Now I had serious self doubt on my parenting abilities. Was I raising a spoiled brat? SHOULD I be spanking my child? Yep, pretty much, I was a complete and utterly miserable human being.

When In Doubt, Google It

I don't know how people parented before the invention of the internet or to be more precise, before Google. I mean, any question I have, I type it in the Google tool bar, and whallah! Instant advice and related experiences from parents around the globe. So when Edith first started having a biting issue at around 16 months old, I Googled it. And I have been Googling it ever since. I have tried just about every idea out there, which vary by age - I've tried talking to her, time "alones", taking away TV, telling her I'm disappointed, yelling (when she did it to me).... And will CPS come find me if I admit I've thumped her mouth and bit her back? I did find a few more ideas this week that I may try, but I feel like I'm digressing, so I'm going to rein this back in.

Basically, everything I found in my research on biting stated that Edith's biting, while exasperating to her care givers and parents, was a completely normal phase that many children go through. I continued to address it when it occurred, but I didn't develop too big of an ulcer over it.

When Edith was about 22 months, I showed up to her school (I know, I know, it's daycare, but I like to delude myself), only to find out she had been moved from the 18 to 24 month room to the "younger twos" that very day. I found this out because I went to her classroom to pick her up and she was not there. I was told she had been moved. Now, Edith is incredibly smart, and she'd moved up rooms before she was the proper age every time. So I felt all proud and glowing that once again, I have the smartest child alive, but I was a little peeved no one had told me about the sudden transition. I checked in at the office, at which point the director informed me that she had moved Edith because she had bit a peer that day and the director "had just had it" with her biting. I was caught off guard, and I don't generally react too well when I've been caught off guard. I am one of those that four hours later my brain catches up with my mouth and I kick myself and mumble things like, "I should have said that or that or that!!!!" And then in my imagination I have wonderful converstations where I put the other person humorously and with bravado in their place, and they wish they had never tried to word spar with ME.... Yeah, so when I was informed of this, I just said, "Okay" and went home in a bewildered daze, unsure of what had just transpired.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. Even though the school was closed for the day, I called and left the director a voicemail that I'd like a call back. I didn't sleep much that night, and the next day I was more bothered yet. I came into work at 6:00 as usual. At 8:00 a.m. I told my boss some of what was going on, and he told me to go take care of it. As I was driving up there the director called and I told her never mind, I was on my way to speak to her in person.

By the time I arrived, she had Edith's file out. I told her that if the biting was that big of an issue, I should have been informed of such. Her point was was that we signed bite reports every time it happened, and we should have known it was a problem. (And yes, I do realize I keep switching between being a single parent or a dual parent with my pronouns, but you'll just have to forgive me - there has been some confusion on exactly how many parents there are at any given time.) Anyway, we got into the thick of it as a true argument and of course when I get mad, I cry. It's a family curse. So I'm defending, angry, sniffling, blowing my nose - yeah, the epitomy of the Tough Mom Standing Her Ground. I pointed out several of her reports had nothing to do with biting, and some were of reports where someone had bitten Edith and not the other way around, and all in all, there were not that many biting reports. Usually the easy going parent, I made it clear that if such decisions were being made, I expected notification. After that I got calls about once a day about every little thing that happened! I do bet daycare directors have fascinating stories to share at the evening dinner table - I don't envy them their jobs not one bit!!!!

So time has passed. Edith still bites - she'll be four in two months. But it has slowed down significantly. I'm (ha ha like I'm the one doing it) down to about one biting report a month. There are other reports too - someone threw sand at her, she pushed someone, someone hit her, she pinched someone. I probably have two reports a week on average. 70% of the time Edith is the aggressor, 30% of the time she is the victim. I do have to say, I can't remember the last time someone bit HER, but who would, right? The school policy is that they don't tell either parent who the other party is on any of these incidents. Of course, now we are getting to the age where they will usually tell us themselves, but honestly, I have not been very focused on the WHO with Edith, I've been more focused on the behavior.

So it did not hardly really seriously overly ever cross my naive little mind that my dear, sweet Edith was ALWAYS biting the same person. And who was it of all people but her dear best friend, hereto referred to as Sweet Pea. And who are Seet Pea's parents? You got it - the perfect new best friends I'd picked out special just for me who once loved me and now have been cold to me for months on end. Why had I not seen this? How did this get past me? Well, at least it's not because I smell bad, I guess!

Despicable Me and Edith

This weekend I saw the movie Despicable Me for the first time, right along side my three year old daughter and boyfriend (for clarification, my boyfriend isn't three, just my daughter). That Edith is just like my little one!!! The blog pieces started falling into place - a pseudoname for the main star was a major missing link. Check! Got it! Which leads to a blog name. Check! Got it! And we are off and running. Mind you, I have no idea what I am doing or why I am doing this or who is going to read it, but we'll worry about all those minor details later. We've got Edith, and that is truly all that matters.

So, I have had one thing on my brain for three days, but you'll need background information. In 2010 The Love of My Life and I got divorced. Short version is that he is still 20 on his interior despite his 40+ year old exterior, and for the life of him, he just cannot give up going to the bars. He is a professional bar fly. So, here we are. Maybe it's needless to say, but all of our "friends" we had while being married are still his friends and not mine, because they also like going to the bars. And heck, The Love of My Life generally buys. So fast forward a bit and I'm still trying to define "my friends" a year and a half down the road. Well, not even define them, let's just start with finding some. Sounds pretty sad, huh? Poor me! I have work friends, and maybe it's because I work so much, but I don't really have too many outside of work friends. Being a single mother in my now no longer mid-thirties, I would really like to have some friends that also have children, because I don't know any who do, and thus my Edith has no one to play with. And if I'm going to get friends from scratch, I might just well define what type of friends I would like to have. They should also like to drink beer. Yes, that would be good.

Last November I thought I'd found the perfect mates - a couple in their thirties, who also had a daughter close to the same age, and they had a beer fridge in their garage! Edith and their daughter go to the same daycare and the girls are just five days apart. We got along swimmingly. Swimmingly! And then gradually it tapered off. At first I just thought we all got busy - it was around the holidays and you know how that can get. But then the holidays were over. I tried to make plans, invite them over, etc, but it was generally met with first excuses, then disinterest. I couldn't figure out for the life of me what had happened. Was it because I started going to church and I scared them off with Christianity? Was it that I am kind of a hottie (I must say so) and the wife didn't appreciate having me around? Is it because my boyfriend is black? Or do I just smell bad and I don't know it? I was completely stumped, and I had given the whole ordeal much thoughtful consideration, but could not land on the proper conclusion. I even thought of just out and out asking, but was afraid that would make me look overly pitiful and desparate.

Well, Edith's school called at 6 pm on Friday and suddenly the entire issue became CRYSTAL clear. You see, Edith is a biter....