"T U R...N E R my name is Mommy"

I look at Turner and am amazed by him moment by moment. This does not make me an unusual parent. In fact, this is probably one of the few qualities I harbor that makes me a 'normal' parent (however one can define normal is beyond me, but apparently there are agreed upon social constructions of normal parenting). A perfect example of my not-normal way of parenting involves crying. Most parents consider crying in front of their children an element of failure. I see my crying to be an emotional release at times that prevents me from yelling or second-guessing myself or becoming distraught with the workload of parenting. When my two year old refuses to pick up his feet and get out the door, throws food in the floor repeatedly to grab my attention, or pulls out that high pitched shrill (which he has began exercising as a way to assert his independence from our rules), I lose a little eye water in desperation. So when I cry in front of him--because nothing I am doing will stop the shrill and the very odd laughter that follows his shrill--I think that is OK. As soon as Turner sees the tears he realizes that his behavior has effects on others. It is simple: the screaming can make mommy cry. The crying makes the screaming instantly turn into a sweet embrace and sloppy kiss from the most amazing child. Though his screaming is meant to push my buttons, the solace he offers me when he sees a tear reassures me that at his very core he doesn't know how to purposefully hurt others. He hits because he doesn't understand that it hurts other people.

The line between play and terrorizing others can be for (most) grown ups very clear, but for a child I am beginning to understand the grayness of these behaviors. His mind works in amazing ways; all of our brains do. But in a child, the way his brain works is more easily witnessed because the world has not yet conditioned him to keep secrets or harbor information for fear of rejection, distrust, or isolation.

In the morning, for example, he tries to rouse us from sleep by biting. He inevitably gets two warnings (or threats) of time out and then ends up with a quick swatting that shocks him and hurts his feelings. He wears these emotions on his face because he hasn't learned how to hide them yet. But I'm reminded that many times when I try to get Turner's attention re-focused onto a new task, I pretend to eat him. I don't bite him, but I open my mouth with soft lips covering my teeth and pretend to eat corn off his arm or gnaw at his deliciously round cheeks. He wants our attention in the mornings so he tries to pretend eat me, but doesn't quite have it down yet.

As I look back, of course, Turner's shrill and his biting seem very simple. He screams. I cry. Then we get to cuddle and regroup. In the mornings he is attempting to be playful and I reward him with scolding when I'm the one who taught him to play in this fashion. Parenting can't happen in recollection though. It happens in a split second everyday, every moment and we all need to make better choices to better understand why the child is doing an unpleasant behavior. The answer is always there, and it requires investigative work. Too bad so many of us have little energy for thinking, let alone planning, recollecting, and analyzing. Long preface on how obvious Turner's mind intricacies are becoming to me; here is the real story . . .

I'm looking at Turner day before yesterday and thinking how smart he is. I'm not one of those moms trying to make Turner out to be the smartest boy ever (he already is in my mind anyway). Instead we do learn traditional things (colors, numbers, ABCs, etc) when the opportunity presents itself, but I am working more on teaching Turner how to live like a kid and enjoy the few short years of blissfulness he deserves. It is a noble plan I know! Anyway, day before yesterday I heard a kid spelling his name somewhere (probably the grocery or at the gym, which are the two most common destinations for Turner and I) and thought Turner should learn to spell his name. I made up a little song to help him remember: "T U R [pause] N E R, my name is Turner. I spell my name most every day. T U R [pause] N E R my name is Turner." I'm driving down the road leaving the place with the spelling kid and I start singing this ditty to Turner. He picks up the spelling part immediately. "T U R...N E R" The letters aren't super clear, but if you know his purpose, you know his song. He spells it again. "T U R N E R I spell my name. T U R N E R my name is Mommy."

In the introspective nature of Turner, if I'm singing a song that uses his name then when he repeats the song to me it only makes sense to him that he should use my name. He is good at repeating what I say, but even better at making it his own. This is one of my most favorite quality of his, he chooses to think instead of simply react.

I preach to my students all of the time that the greatest weakness a student can have is to not question their professors, the knowledge their professors value, and the material that their profs value so much they deem it necessary for students to know. We should all ask why more often instead of simply fussing about the way things are. Without the 'why' then there can be no action. The things students retain the most in the classroom are the side conversations, the talking that takes place in my office or after class as we rush down the hallway. These conversations remind students that professors are humans, but students need to remain skeptical and inquisitive during these conversations too. If I'm lashing out about the A&S Dean restricting travel funds for faculty members, then I want my students to wonder how does this affect them; it does, but they assume it doesn't and these assumptions are what lead us into situations where we feel like we do not have the power to change things.

So, when Turner improves one of my songs with his personality and introspection, then I am the happiest lark in the park evan as I watch my little one push a little girl out of his way because "I wait Mommy and she no share the slide." I've ridden with several drivers who believe that believe tailgating will push people out of their way, so Turner's logic doesn't seem too far fetched.