Brattitude

I read early on in my parenting career that when your adopted child starts to whine you should be elated. It's a sign of the oh-so-coveted attachment you've been waiting for. It would appear, the author of Parenting Your Internationally Adopted Child has never actually been a parent. She clearly sits in her cozy family-friendly therapy office and watches breakthroughs such as new additions whining to their novice moms and dads, and she jots down observations in her notebook about how wonderful it is to see little Bobby expressing his deepest desires in such an expressive way to the caregivers he's obviously now feeling close enough to that he can be vulnerable. 

Has this woman never heard the incessant nails-on-a-chalk-board high pitched repetition accompanied by the lower lip nearly dragging the floor, grating on your very last nerve?! The author did not discuss the tweenage version of whining much, i.e. mouthing off, sassiness, eye-rolling, unintelligible grunting, and general discontent with life when untethered from headphones or a screen.

I use the phrase "driving me crazy" in reference to a lot of things these days, so much so that Jon and I now have a running joke that I live just on the outskirts of Crazytown so it's not a far drive. Sometimes he comes to visit me and resides temporarily in the suburbs himself even though his tolerance is much higher than mine, partially because I am the object of said whining more often than not.

I don't know about you other parents, but I think I'd prefer irregular felonies, such as cheating on a test, maybe smoking some cigarettes, possibly even stealing something small-ish, to this constant barrage of shall we say misdemeanors, by which I mean brattitude. Our child's lower lip is in danger of getting trampled on. Her tone of voice indicates how she feels about having peabrains for parents. She will always get the last word.

Okay, I'm finished with the negativity now, I've got that off my chest. I tell you all this to confess that although her disrespectful peers and her confused adolescent state lead to much of this poutiness, I'm sure I could be a better role model myself. When I talk down to her, react quickly in a harsh way, or assume she doesn't know what she's talking about (all responses much more appropriate in my position than hers) I'm modeling this behavior. Jon and I enjoy a little sarcasm now and then, but there are often listening ears close enough to pick it up, but not mature enough to interpret it.

What's the solution? I have no idea. Friday, is our 3-year anniversary of Angie's Adoption Day and I feel like we've tried the whole gamut of strategies. Not without some success, we have dramatically decreased the felonies such as tantrums, broken belongings, and calls home from teachers. But the snottiness persists. This time, in honor of Mother's Day (and my own perfect example of a Mom), I think I'll turn my focus from correcting Angie's attitude to curbing my own. After all, it's the only one I really have any control over. In our house I'm going to try fighting brattitude with gratitude. And just maybe I'll spare myself a few visits to Crazytown. 

"Whether or not we like it, whether or not we understand it, it is kind of the Lord to demolish our confidence in our own strength, abilities, and cherished methods. True, it doesn't feel kind at the time. It's terribly painful to watch your beloved son turn from the faith or to hear that your daughter has been disruptive in Sunday school again. It crushes our hearts when we try and try to explain the gospel to our little ones and they stare back at us in boredom and resentment. Yet, it is a kindness when He strips us of self-reliance, because it is there in our emptiness and brokenness, that we experience the privilege of His sustaining grace."  

-Give Them Grace