Archive for June 2013
All Liars Will Go To Hell
I
watched this BBC’s documentary “Child of Our Time” a long time ago – well, it
felt like a long time ago. I was pregnant then, and MM and I were sort of
researching what to expect from our unborn child (who we weren’t sure at
that time if it was a he or she. Two scans had said he, two others she). Well,
I’m not entirely sure if it’s Child of Our Time though, but it was from the
same Professor Robert Winston. In
one of his experiments, he put a bunch of three year olds in a room with a
treat in front of them and asked them not to touch it. What the kids didn’t
know was that they were being filmed. I can’t remember exactly, but I think
most of the kids nibbled at the treat. Some lied about doing this, some told
the truth. The professor’s opinion was that the smarter children were more
likely to lie. They were intelligent enough to realise that they had done
something they were not supposed to do, and to come up with a response
that will save them from punishment. Watching that, I remember wondering
whether I wanted a smart child or an honest one. Fast forward to present day: I
think I got a smart one.
Last
time I talked about bomboy’s increasing assertiveness. Well, this is what
happens. He knows that when the microwave beeps, the food in there is ready to
be brought out. What he doesn’t appear to grasp the concept though is that one should waiting for one minute before taking the food out. I don't blame him entirely, because then
again neither do I. However, he has been told
over and over not to bring the food out from inside the microwave - for him to just leave it there, I'd do it later. Does he do it
nevertheless? You bet he doesn't! And does he admit to going against my instruction when he does? Of course not! He just stares at me when I ask who brought out the food – dude doesn’t
want to implicate himself.
Another
example: bomboy unfortunately still pees on himself. He can get completely
engrossed in things that he doesn’t seem to realise that he needs to go. What’s
worse, he doesn’t realise that he has gone! He remembers – always remembers –
to take himself to the toilet to poo, but the pee thing completely escapes him.
Now, we have had many many occasions of me making him kneel down for wetting
him, or sometimes spanking his bum. It does no good. We went to the GP once (my
mom decided maybe he needs to see a therapist. Ha!), who said it's absolutely
normal. Didn’t satisfy me. It still greatly pisses me off that at three and
half, he returns from school nearly everyday on a different trouser (sometimes,
his third that day) from the one he left with. So, what does bomboy do about
all this annoyance he sees his mom displaying? Well, when he wets himself and
somehow realises this before I do, he takes off his trousers, puts it in the
clothes hamper and tells me to give him another to wear. Once I asked him
whether he’d peed on himself again, he said no. I asked him a couple of
times, he continued saying no. I said I was going to check for myself. And that's when he
stopped me. As in, he stood at the door and wouldn’t let me through. Another
time, my sister told him to go show me his wet trousers, and this pikin
refused. Instead he took one of his trousers lying on the bed and put it on. I
noticed the change, and asked him about it. As usual, mister would not implicate
himself. Last week, he actually lied out rightly that he had gone to the toilet
by himself. Foolish me, I was glad that my message was finally getting through
and hugged him. I thought maybe a little bit of pee got to his trousers and so
he decided to take it off.
I
could fill this post with examples and examples of these, but I’m sure you get
my point. I am completely at loss how to remedy this. I know many Naija people
who scare their children into honesty. The good ol’ “all liars will go to hell”
business I have heard come from the lips of plenty mothers. I don’t want to
resort to that. Frankly, if for no other reason, because I don’t believe it –
rather, I’m undecided about the reality of hell. While I’m not going to dictate
bomboy’s religious beliefs, I don’t agree with people who tell me to feed him
things I don’t believe him in the name of raising him as a Christian. I will
not stop anyone for telling him that, but I shall not be part of it. Should he
ever come to me to confirm something he's told by others about heaven or
hell, I have decided I'll simply tell him I personally don’t believe in it. I won't denounce it as falsehood, nor promote it as the absolute truth.
I
want to raise a child who values truthfulness. A child who trusts me to know
whatever I do I do out of love. The gospel of fear, I feel, is
counterproductive. You frighten the child into behaving, and he doesn’t get to
learn other functions of truthfulness – such as what it does to relationships
and all (but of course, I do make exception to threatening to leave him behind when he throws tantrums at busstops because I refused to carry him, or to switch off the TV when he refuses to take his bath. Those are normal parenting joo). Definitely at this stage, he is possibly going to care more about not wanting to burn to hell than appreciate that “when you lie, you hurt mummy.” But I think the latter is that way
to go. The thing is; while the latter has a longer term benefit, maybe it wouldn’t be
as effective in the immediate. And I want him to stop lying NOW!
So,
I’m conflicted and I would like to hear what you guys think.
But please, no “take him to the lord in prayers”. Biko oh, I beg una in the name of God.
Ciao
Long Time No Hear
Mes cherries!
Okay, even with my long forgotten
French, I know that's not correct. Just bear with me here. I’m typing this on
company (internship) time. It's been ages I last blogged. Well, nobody left
comment in the last two posts, I wasn't sure people are reading. Anyway, I
remembered I promised Vera I would see this new blogging thing through. So,
here I am making an effort. What do I want to talk about today? Hmmm, let’s
see.
I have made quite some progress
with my dissertation. The data collection aspect of it is almost done, and now
analysis – which is a bit of a burger cos I don’t know jack about how to go
about it. Supervisors are heaven-sent, luckily. So while I have something to
worry about, it’s not as bad as most of my classmates who are having it
absolutely tough. This PhD business oh. Imagine having supervisors like that my
classmates for 3 years. Na only sheer determination go keep u going. No be say
if u wan drop out of your research, anybody go hold you hand, dey beg you make
you no go. I am not the praying kind, but mehn, when water pass garri, one
gasta do the necessary. But anyway, na PhD runs be dat – which is quite very farfetched
for me right now. It’s still very much a dream, nothing even one-quarter close
to reality.
I am interning at two places at
the moment: one an NGO specialising in health policy, the other is a Trust
within NHS. The NHS bit is on mental health, but specifically on nutrition,
which I have almost kinda forgotten I have a passion for being so focused on public
health in general. Neither are paid internship, which means I remain f**king
broke and that is so not nice. I am a bit limited on my job availability, as 3
days goes into the internship and the remaining days into my dissertation/mothering
hyperactive bomboy. It is also very stressful. Not having money is hard enough
on its own, not having money and being constantly on the go is much much
harder. Who knows, maybe that’s why I’m blogging right now when I should be working
on the project assigned to me. My brain had taken the decision to take a
break, with or without my consent.
And finally, bomboy is growing up
so fast and his assertive personality is emerging ever so strongly. He has
always been a strong willed child. When I was co-parenting with MM, it was a
struggle for me to discipline him as MM has other ideas about how to raise a
child. So, I’m afraid by the time I got him all by myself, some damage had
already been done. School work and fitting into a relatively new environment (at
least, in a different capacity) left me a little too tired to clamber down on
bomboy. Besides, everyone made a point to inform me about the risk of me losing
my child to social service. Still, I tried what I could. Anyway, like I was
saying, bomboy has grown quite assertive and I feel it's time to break his wings
before he flies away. The problem is, I don’t know how. I don’t want to be as
harsh as my parents were with us. I don’t want to be as permissive as my mom is now with my kid sister, and as MM seems to advocate. I have one kid, can’t
afford to have him run haywire. But I don’t want to be tyrannical either. People
say balance – yeah, but what does that actually mean? I have talked a lot
today, so maybe next time I will tell you of specific situations and you will
sort of get what I mean.
BTW, Kimye named their daughter
North West. LMAO. No further comments.
Ciao.