Rule One

It's Not That Complicated: The Twelve Rules for Raising Happy, Self-Reliant Children
by Doug Peine

Book Description

Raising Kids Today Is Complicated Business . . .

Ever find yourself embarrassed for the exasperated mother ahead of you in line at the supermarket whose child is throwing a tantrum, or the frazzled father whose teen is making a scene? Even worse, ever found yourself in their position, scratching your head as to how you ever could have raised such offspring?

As many parents can attest, the checkout line is the perfect stage for one of the most storied power struggles in human history: the battle of wills between parent and child-a battle which, if not handled properly, can result in a child who is selfish, undisciplined and incapable of relating well in the world.

Enter It's Not That Complicated, a no-nonsense, practical guide for parents that exposes the twelve most common parenting mistakes and then offers simple solutions. This is not like other parenting books, written by “experts” who have Ph.D.s but have never changed a diaper. It is the culmination of author Doug Peine's years in the trenches as a parent and a practicing lawyer who often finds himself mediating battles between the adult products of bad parenting.

By following the book's easy-to-implement rules, Peine shows parents how to praise without pampering; how to instill confidence not cockiness; how to set guidelines without guilt and how to punish with purpose rather than anger. The result? Responsible, respectful, happy children who are well equipped for adulthood.

This book will show you that while being a parent can sometimes be difficult, it can also be the most rewarding experience of your life, if done right and with consistency-and it's not that complicated.

Rule Number One

Mean What You Say

“No, No.” A Thousand Times “No”

It just couldn't be simpler: When you say “no”-which you have to do often when raising a child-you must mean it. The way you show that you mean it is by enforcing it. Immediately. Not tomorrow or when you get home. Now. No hemming and hawing, no stalling or waffling, dallying or dawdling. Right now. This instant. There simply is no other way for a child to learn what is acceptable behavior and what is not.

When your three-year-old grabs a box of cereal off the shelf at the supermarket, tell her “no” and ask her to put it back. If she refuses, take it from her, put it back yourself, and inform her that when you get home she will have to suffer an appropriate punishment for disobeying you.

If she decides then and there to throw a tantrum, tell her to stop it. If she refuses, remove her from the area, take her home, and impose a more severe punishment.

A child's bad behavior is like a goldfish; it will take up as much room as you allow it. But if you apply consistency, gentleness and firmness, you will not have problems. It's not that complicated.

How Dare You Permit Your Child to Show You Disrespect

If you do not consistently follow this simple rule, you will lose your child's respect. There are few things uglier. You will lose your child's respect because she will come to realize that Dad will not follow through on his threats, or that Mom won't enforce her authority-in short, that her parents don't mean what they say.

Mom says, “Stop that.” The four-year-old blithely disobeys, confident through experience that Mom won't enforce her words.

Mom says, “Stop it, or else.” The child continues her bad behavior, knowing the threat is an empty one.

Mom says, “I said 'Stop it.' And I mean it.” The child, glint in eye, grin on lips, does “it” again with relish.

Mom gets specific. “Stop it, or I'll take your toys away from you.” Still the child keeps on, assured by history that even this threat is hollow.

What a frustrating scenario to watch, especially since it is so easily avoided.

You Are Making You and Your Child Miserable

The irony is that the child enjoys this dance no more than the parent. It is a disturbing thing to discover that your parents cannot be depended upon; that, in fact, they are liars.

Next time you observe a child being insolent toward his parents, look closely and you'll likely spot anger pulsing among the other emotions of the moment. It's an anger that arises out of the fact that the child has been denied his fundamental sense of security. If Mom doesn't mean what she says when it comes to controlling me, he thinks, then how can I trust anything else she says? If she doesn't have the guts to enforce my behavior, how can I trust her to have the guts to protect me?

Your child is relying on you to show him how to negotiate the perilous mountain road of life. He needs to have confidence in your ability to not take him careening off the edge.

If he observes that you can't control a little kid like him, how can he expect you to have any capabilities with the really tough guys out there in the scary world? Who's going to protect him and show him the way? Certainly not you. You've betrayed yourself as unfit. Apparently he's going to have to make it on his own.

What a blow to a kid. No wonder he's angry.

And no wonder that each time he's offered the opportunity to stick it to you, he'll seize it. Each time he has a chance to defy you, he'll do it in the way best calculated to cause you the greatest humiliation. Because if you're not going to provide him the security he needs, he's going to at least eke out a measure of consolation in the simple pleasure of taking his anger out on you.

That's what this behavior has become for him: recreation. After a while, it has little to do with whatever is the subject of the moment: toys, refusal to go to bed, punching his sister. It is now nothing more than the simple pleasure of getting in your face and proving once again what a moral coward you are.

Soon enough he'll be initiating trouble just to get the fun started.

Painful to Watch

Ahead of me in the checkout line at Kmart is a father reading a tabloid while his three-year-old girl squirms in the shopping cart. Her heels kick the cart, her lips hum a song, her eyes roam round and round for some escape from boredom. She notices a display rack within arms' reach.

“Daddy,” she says.

“What?”

“I want gum.”

“No gum.” He doesn't raise his eyes from his reading.

She is irked by the inattention. She kicks out a foot that rattles his paper. This brings a bright smile to her face. He jerks his paper out of reach, refusing still to make eye contact with her.

“Daddy,” she says again.

“What?” There is irritation in his voice now. Yet she shows not the slightest hint of being intimidated.

“When are we going! I want to go!”

“Pretty soon,” he says, still insistent upon being preoccupied.

“But I want to go now!”

“Sorry. Gotta wait in line.” He flips over a page. She looks at him hard and calculatingly. She happens to catch my eye and holds the gaze. Her forehead furrows and her mouth presses out a pout. How dare he treat me like this? her expression says.

She turns in her seat and begins plucking packs of gum from a display box and tossing them into the shopping cart. After about the fifth one Dad has no choice finally but to look up.

“Stop it,” he says.

“We need gum,” she says matter-of-factly, tossing more packs into the shopping cart.

“I said 'Stop it.'” He closes up his paper in an effort to show he is serious. Too late.

She wrinkles up her nose and actually sticks her tongue out at him. Then she steals a glance at me expecting, I suppose, to bask in my admiration of her audacity. But I'm too busy wincing.

Mercifully he does not slap her. But neither does he do anything constructive.

“Stop it,” he says again, his impotence now as obvious as his five-o'clock shadow.

She raises her nose another inch in the air and tosses a couple more packs of gum into the cart.

Father and daughter stare each other into a standoff until it comes time for Dad to roll forward to the cashier. He does so, taking his daughter out of reach of the gum. He begins to gather the items in his cart and set them on the conveyor. She watches him closely and bides her time.

When everything else has been placed on the counter, he collects the packs of gum from the cart and begins fitting them back in the display boxes. She's been waiting for this.

“Gum!” she hollers. “I want GUM!”

“No,” he says quietly.

“GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM . . .”

Her chant grows louder and louder until in desperation he takes the last pack, cups it in his hand, furtively drops it in among his other purchases on the counter, then steps back as though the gum had fallen from the sky. She quiets immediately and gives circumstances a little nod of approval.

A few minutes later, after I have paid for my purchases and pause to slip wallet into pocket, I notice father and daughter just outside the plate glass window, heading for the parking lot. They have stopped on the sidewalk. The father is unwrapping something. I look to see what it is. He hands his daughter a stick of gum, and she folds it into her mouth. She notices me through the window and gives me a big smile.

It's Your Own Damn Fault

Obviously gum was not the issue. It was an enjoyable little perk, certainly, but what this little girl was mostly about was reaffirming her moral authority over her father. She made him squirm, and it was a fun way to pass a few otherwise boring moments.

Let us acknowledge the obvious: There is absolutely no excuse for allowing matters to deteriorate to such a point that we become ashamed of ourselves as parents. Especially when all we have to do is say “no” and mean it.

It's not that complicated.

© 2002 Health Communications, Inc.

About the Author

Doug Peine is a lawyer practicing criminal and civil appeals in St. Paul and Minneapolis, Minnesota. He has published several articles in legal publications. This is his first book. He and his wife, Christine Scotillo, and their son, Nicholas, live in St. Paul.