Babysitters and Discipline

We are in the middle of interviewing replacements for one of our current fabulous babysitters, C., who is returning to France in a couple of weeks. Yesterday we interviewed a woman who is a full-time nanny with a few spare hours to babysit. I am pretty sure we flunked the interview. At some point she pulled out a notebook and pen poised, asked us all about our approach to discipline, what time we had meals and snacks, when nap time/quiet time was and what did it consist of, and further questions for which we had absolutely no answers. We stared blankly at each other. How to describe our approach to discipline? Wait, we didn't prepare for that question. We can't answer "So, tell me about yourself..." either. Or "Tell me about a challenge you've had in your parenting and how you overcame it, or what you would do differently next time." Not that she asked us those questions. We were also unprepared to ask relevant questions of her, outside of "So, how much are you an hour?" and "What days did you say you were available?" We go almost entirely by gut when hiring sitters. Of course we check references, but we also find that Ari is an excellent judge of character. So we pick people he adores on first sight. G., for example, another one of our fabulous babysitters, who, upon meeting, he began showering with presents. After she left the interview, he said "She was very beautiful." And he has loved her ever since.

Anyway, we're not sure what our approach to discipline is, our schedule is pretty fluid (though we are starting to get into a bit of a routine for some things, just because, with two now, we have to be somewhat more organized), and Ari eats when he's hungry, and woe unto the adult who tries to get him to do something different.

Actually, I guess, about discipline, it would be more appropriate to say that we're not sure we believe in 'discipline' at all. Which doesn't mean that we 'let' Ari do whatever he wants. It does mean, I think, that we are constantly re-evaluating whether something we want him to do, or not to do, is reasonable or necessary. It turns out that a lot of the stuff we, as parents, want our kids to comply with has very little to do with "raising our children properly" and a lot to do with "what I, parent, want right now, or think is okay, or finds gross or annoying or just weird." As in "No, Ari, you can't make a clementine burrito, that's gross." Or "don't use your baby sister's crib as a trampoline." Both items we initially said no to and then "gave in" about.

We "give in" about a lot of things not because we don't know how to discipline our kid, but because on second or third or fourth thought, many of our requests or demands are not very important. It would be nice, perhaps, if we remembered not to make unimportant requests or demands in the first place, but that's unrealistic, and perhaps also not healthy. If I ask Max to stop doing something that's annoying me, he'll usually do it, if it's easy for him to comply. If not, he'll explain why it's important to him to do the thing. Even if it's something I don't think is important, I will try to respect that he thinks it is. Or else I will argue that the reason I want him to stop is more important than his reason for wanting to continue. It's a negotiation. I don't just order him to stop this instant or I'll send him to his room.

So why should I treat Ari any differently, except in the obvious cases where he is doing something stupidly dangerous or hurtful? (And if Max were doing something stupidly dangerous or hurtful, no doubt I would tell him to stop this instant too. In fact, I do. For example, when he's needlessly rushing while driving somewhere.) Most of the stuff Ari does that I tell him to stop doing, however, is not dangerous or hurtful, but just weird and incomprehensible to me. It also often gets in the way of what I am doing. Still, why should I assume that what I am doing is so much more important than what he is doing? Why should my lack of understanding why it is so important for Ari to attach a helium balloon to his golf clubs caddy and string a kind of archway through the front hall with it prevent him from doing just that? No doubt the things I do seem just as strange and incomprehensible to him. Why is it important that this stack of papers on mom's desk remain exactly where it is, precariously perched on the edge?

No doubt we appear to be awfully wishy-washy. Perhaps even ruled by our child. I have to go by how we feel as a family, though, and how Ari gets along with other kids and other grownups. Are we a happy, healthy, and safe family? Yes. Do other people like Ari? Yes. Does anyone in the household feel resentful and out-of-control? No. So we must be doing fine, discipline or no.