When Lee was a child Granny had to take him to the ER so many times, I’m surprised they haven’t yet named a wing after him. He’s broken bones, had concussions, gotten hit by a car, been in a car accident, and gotten stitches so many times he’s practically the bionic man now.

This hanging out the ER syndrome is something Lee passed on to his boys. Especially Caleb. Caleb’s had stitches in his head three times. And on his face twice. He’s also broken his arm. And he’s only 8. He hasn’t even really started playing sports yet. I shiver just thinking about what lies ahead for us.

Last Tuesday Spencer had a friend over to play video games. I have really thought about giving our xbox away to charity because the boys fight over it so much. “Mom Spencer won’t let me play Red Dead Redemption.” “Caleb you’re supposed to go to the left.” “Why did you just kill me.” It’s enough to make my head explode right off my body.

Caleb swears he wasn’t mad [but I don't really believe that...I think they were AGAIN fighting over the video game] when he threw a pair of Spencer’s shorts. He says he was just trying to throw them in to the laundry room [which really is just a throw away from their bedroom]. But the shorts hit Spencer friend.

The friend reacted by throwing the shorts back at Caleb who had turned around and was walking away. The shorts [along with the belt attached] hit Caleb in the back of the head, cutting it open. I was upstairs straightening my hair for my upcoming meeting and I heard them yelling at each other but tried to drown them out. I could hear the friend telling Caleb, “Go tell your mom.” I figured he was just making fun of him for being a tattle tale or something.

But when Caleb reached the bathroom and told me his head hurt, I sighed and told him we’d get him some ice. That’s when I noticed the blood dripping down his neck. I yelled, “OH MY GOD! WHAT HAPPENED?” and then remembered I needed to stay calm or else I’d freak him out.

Caleb was whimpering “Do I have to get stitches? I don’t want to get stitches.” I started to clean up the cut. At first it didn’t look too bad. I said, “No I don’t think it’s bad enough for stitches.”

But after I got all the blood cleaned up I realized he had a pretty deep gash in his head. And YES it likely did require stitches.

It was after-hours for the doctor’s office so we headed over to the closest walk-in clinic. The place was empty so we got right in. The nurse took a look at it. Cleaned it up some more. And then told us the doctor would be in to either put in stitches or staples.

Caleb’s eyes got really, really big. STAPLES! He was horrified.

When the doctor came in Caleb meekly asked, “Are you stapling my head?”

The doctor assured him he was just going to use stitches. But as he was answering the question he turned sideways and Caleb could see the big needle with Novocaine in it. He gasped. The doctor turned to try to hide the needle. But the damage was already done.

We assured Caleb that it would just pinch for a minute and then it would be all numb. All he’d feel after that would be maybe a little tugging. The doctor put in the needle and Skyler & I held Caleb’s hand. That kid sure has a tight grip.

A few minutes later the doctor poked Caleb in the head a few dozen times with the needle. Caleb didn’t even flinch. So the Novocaine was working.

Caleb ended up with three stitches in the back of his head. He was so proud of himself. He doesn’t remember any of the other times he’s had stitches. So he went home and bragged about how brave he was. Now he has a war story to share with all his friends.

Today we went back to the walk-in clinic to get the stitches out. The place was packed today. And it smelled like sickness. You know me and my OCD. I was freaking out. I had to go outside for a little bit to get some fresh air. After about 30 minutes in the waiting room they finally called Caleb’s name. With relief I signed “THANK GOD.”

Caleb’s hair is dark. And the stitches are dark. So the nurse tried to cut them out without also giving Caleb a haircut. She struggled a little bit with the first one. But eventually got it out without Caleb even realizing it. She went to through it away, but Caleb was trying to see it. So she set it next to him. I’m pretty sure he would have taken those stitches home for show-and-tell if she would have let him.

The next two stitch removals were a little bit painful. I could see him tense up a little so I grabbed his hand. He told the nurse, “That one hurt a little bit.”

But the last one came out easy too. So he’s all stitched up. And all better. He’s such a brave kid.

I hope this is the last emergency visit. But somehow I doubt that.

Thursday night Skyler, Spencer and Caleb were sitting at the kitchen table filling out their valentine’s for their Valentine’s Day parties on Friday. They would have done their valentine’s sooner, but I didn’t buy them until around 7pm Thursday night. You know me and my habit of procrastination.

So anyway, they were sitting at the kitchen table filling out their valentine’s and I was making myself some Kraft Shells and Cheese (’cause yum!) when a conversation ensued. A conversation that started out as an innocent talk about twins and ended with an explanation of vasectomies, sex and periods. [I'm telling you. There is a never a dull moment in the Bean household.]

Caleb was filling out a card for Spencer, a kid in his class, when it dawned on him that Spencer, a kid in his class, has the same name as Spencer, his brother. He said, “Spencer, Spencer in my class likes football too. You could be twins. ‘Cause you’re identical.” This led in to a discussion about what it meant to be an identical twin and a fraternal twin.

And then somebody asked, “Are you going to have any more babies?”

I said, “No. We’re done having babies. We’re happy with our family just the way we are. You guys are all we need.”

Spencer begged, “But can’t we have just one more baby?”

“We can’t because Dad had a vasectomy,” I blurted out before I realized just how tricky that statement would be.

“What’s a vestomy?” asked Caleb.

I paused for a second and let out a nervous giggle. “A vasectomy? That’s when they cut a little tube in daddy’s private parts so daddy can’t make babies anymore.”

“Why does that mean he can’t make babies,” Caleb questioned.

“Well,” I stumbled, “it means the semen can’t get out to fertilize the egg. Do you know what semen is?”

Three sets of eyes stared blankly back at me so I continued, “Well a woman has ovaries and each month those ovaries produce an egg that goes down the fallopian tubes in to her uterus. When she has sex with her husband he releases semen that swims up and fertilizes that egg. If the egg gets fertilized then it grows in to a baby. If it doesn’t get fertilize then a woman has her period. Do you know what a period is?”

With a look of disgust on his face, Spencer said, “Yeah, it’s when she bleeds from her private parts.”

“Something like that,” I responded.

Caleb piped in, “Mom, you said some bad words.”

“What words were those,” I asked.

“S-E-X,” Caleb spelled.

“Sex isn’t a bad word. Either is penis or vagina. They are just body parts. When you are talking about your body it’s ok to use those words. Just don’t use them as an insult. Like don’t call somebody a penis,” I informed.

Caleb said, “Yeah, like when somebody says ‘suck my dick’ that’s bad.”

“Yes it is. I don’t want to hear that at all,” I said.

We chatted a little more and I asked them them if they had any other questions. Spencer was still stuck on the vasectomy issue.

“But you can still have a baby,” Spencer said.

“I could, but I’d have to have a baby with some other guy and I would never do that,” I said.

Caleb said, “Yeah, cause that’s cheating and that’s bad.”

Skyler chirped in, “Yeah, that’s just rude.”

Spencer said, “Ah man. But I really wanted a little brother.”

“You have a little brother,” I informed him. “You have Caleb.”

“Yeah, but I wanted a baby brother,” he whined.

“Well they don’t stay little forever, you know. We aren’t having anymore. But Keaton and Justis might have a baby in a few years. In 10 years Keaton will be 25. He could get married and have a baby by then. Then you’d be an uncle.”

Then the kids were figuring out how old they would be in 10 years. Skyler & Spencer would be 20. Caleb would be 17.

“By then all of you will be moving out of the house. And I’ll be lonely,” I said.

Caleb said, “I might live with you for a long time.”

Skyler said, “I’m living with you until I find a man.”

Spencer said, “Well…I’ll come visit you.”

It’s these intimate conversations and hard questions I treasure most with my kids. When I was younger I was always so embarrassed whenever my parents would talk to me about sex. I figured it would be hard for me to talk to my own kids about it. But it’s not. I would rather my kids come to me when they have questions so I know they are getting the truth. And I’m glad they feel comfortable enough to ask me the questions that are on their minds. I hope we continue to stay this close as they move in to the teenage years.

Remember waaaayy back in 2007 when I blogged about a Po Bronson article on the importance of sleep for children? Well Po (and his co-author Ashley Merryman) have a new book coming out; NurtureShock: New Thinking About Children. Yesterday Po was on NPR’s All Things Considered in the segment Parenting Tips: Praise Can Be Bad; Lying is Normal talking about the book.

In the book (and the NPR segment) Po said all this praise we’re giving our kids isn’t doing them any good. Telling Jimmy he’s doing a great job even though he just scored the game winning soccer point….for the opposing team by kicking the ball in the wrong goal…isn’t helping our kids grow up to be hard working adults. In fact it’s doing more harm then good.

Po says “only kids under the age of 7 take praise at face value.” As they get older they just expect praise for everything from outstanding achievements to mediocre work. And we wonder why teens today seem to have this inflated sense of entitlement (even greater than our own at that age).

We need to let kids develop their own judgment about what deserves praise and what doesn’t. We need to let them learn the difference between success and failure. And we need to let them learn from their own failures every now and then. With all this praise, failure has become an almost taboo topic. Failing is a part of life, but many of our kids feel like failing is not an option.

When it comes to education kids have become obsessed with the image of looking smart and therefore they don’t take as many academic risks. If they know they can ace the easy math, and look smart doing it, they don’t want to take a risk with algebra. They don’t want to challenge themselves and risk having to struggle through a more difficult course.

Keaton has always been a very smart kid. He greatly exceeds the average test scores in all standardized test (usually in the 90th to 100th percentile). He’s been reading at a college level since elementary school. He’s been in the advanced math classes since the 5th grade. But now in high school I see him shying away from some of the tougher courses because “they’re hard.” He struggled a little in his math class last year and (according to him) it was his teacher’s fault; the teacher just didn’t teach it very well. I asked, “Did you go in before school and ask for help?” “No.” He was just struggling because nothing was ever hard before. Now he had to actually work at something and it was very frustrating to him.

Po also touched on kids and lying. He said all kids lie. And it usually happens by the time they are just 4-year-olds. But Po also says lying is a sign of intelligence. It also shows some creativity. It takes a lot for a kid to remember both the truth and the alternative lie. So lying isn’t all bad.

But…

We need to condition it out of kids by the time they are around 7-years-old. Don’t let it become a pattern or a way for kids to deal with their problems. However, studies have shown that increasing threats of punishment make kids better liars who lie more often. Kids lie to make us happy. They don’t want to get in trouble. They don’t want to upset us. So they tell us what they think we want to hear. Instead we need to signal to them what really makes us happy. Po stops his kids the moment he thinks they may be lying and says, “You make me really happy if you tell me the truth.”

But it’s not just little kids that lie. Adolescents lie too. (Don’t I know that!) In the book Po and Ashley say out of 36 potential topics the average teen lies on 12 of them. Teens lie about things like what they spent their allowance on. What clothes they changed in to after they left the house. What movie they actually saw at the movie theater. It’s just easier if mom doesn’t know you snuck in to that R rated movie when she thought you were going to the PG-13 movie. Then there’s no argument. And she probably will never know anyway.

According to Po, 78% of parents think their teens tell them everything. (Really?!? 78%? Who are these parents?) But most teens disagree. (You think?) Even the teens who lie the least lie on about 5 of those 36 topics. Even the “good” kids lie sometimes.

Po says the best way to curb teen lying is to “set a few rules, consistently enforce them and negotiate occasionally.” Yes, sometimes you need to negotiate with your teen. Make them feel part of the decision-making process. In fact Po goes so far as to say that arguing is a sign of respect. A sign of respect? Well a teen has two options. Tell the truth even though it may lead to an argument or outright lie. The outright lie is probably the easiest option, but telling the truth can be the riskier option and usually the more mature option.

So head over to the NPR website and listen to the segment. Then let’s discuss. What do you think? Is too much praise bad? Is arguing a sign of respect?

When it comes to discipline my dad was like a stone statue. I’m sitting here, racking my brain, trying to remember a time my dad ever yelled at me. I mean really, red-faced, spittin’ mad yelled at me. I don’t think there ever was a time. He was never a spanker either. I can’t think of a single time my dad ever spanked me. Instead he disciplined in a very secretive, you-don’t-even-know-I’m-punishing-you kind of way. He punished me by letting me know he was disappointed in me. He made me know he knew I could do better.

When I was fifteen I was arrested for shoplifting. After I was shoved in to the back of a police car in handcuffs and drug to the juvenile detention center, they made me call my dad. I sobbed as I told him where I was and what I had done. He came to get me and talked to the police who said the store wasn’t pressing charges against me. As we were walking out of the police station my dad looked at me on the verge of tears and said, “I am so disappointed in you.” I was crushed. At that moment I would have rather they had thrown me in a jail cell to rot rather than having me face my father and seeing the disappointment on his face.

My dad also took away privileges and grounded me as punishment. There was none of this wish washing, I’ll ground you for a week and then give in two days later. If my dad grounded me for a week, I was in my room, reading a book considering myself lucky I could even listen to the radio, for an entire week. Prior to the shoplifting incident we were talking about getting me my own phone line. However, after that little stunt my dad informed me I would never be getting my own phone line…ever. In fact I think if he had his way I’d still have no phone right now more than 15 years later because that was my punishment for being stupid enough to steal from Target.

Now my mom took a different approach. She had a bit more of a temper. Not a beat you down temper, but she definitely yelled more than my dad did [which isn't saying much since, like I said, the man never yells]. She’s a bit more of a freaker-outer and worry wart.

From the age of six on I only spent about ten weeks a year with my mom. She lived out east and I lived in the midwest with my dad. So she didn’t discipline me much. And there wasn’t a whole heck of a lot trouble to get in to in just ten weeks. [Although there was the summer I racked up a $300 long distance bill in just three weeks. Oh she loved that. ]

So I don’t remember getting in trouble with my mom very many times. But the one time I do remember has really stuck with me.

I was between nine and eleven and we had gone shopping. Apparently I had forgotten to lock the car door. When we got back to the car my door was unlocked so I jumped in the seat. My mom hadn’t yet unlocked her door so it was obvious that I must have left my door unlocked since she hadn’t gotten in to unlock it for me yet. She was really pissed about it. We got in to an argument about it and she slapped me. Across the face. Hard. I was shocked. I was horrified. I have remembered it for more than twenty years. I can still tell you what the car looked like [it was many, many cars ago] and what I was wearing that day. That’s how big an impact that had on me.

I should mention here that my mom is a wonderful woman. We are best friends. We talk almost daily. So I’m not harboring any ill feelings towards her for slapping me more than twenty years ago. My point is only to show what an impact that had on me.

Before I had children I thought that whole this hurts me more than it’s hurting you saying was a bunch of bull. I mean, how could grounding me possibly hurt you more than me, seriously? But now that I’m the mommy I get it completely. It breaks my heart to see my kids upset, especially when they’re upset with me. And they might as well stab me through the heart when they yell “I hate you.” It would just be so much easier to give in so they’ll like me. Like when you’re in high school and you do things you don’t really want to just so the cool kids will notice you.

But that wouldn’t help my kids. Somebody told me the other day, “you’re not doing your job unless your kids are mad at you at least once a day.” That is so true. It’s my job to teach respect and responsibility. Right now they’re a little egocentric and their whole world revolves around them, but as a parent I need to help them understand their place in the world. It’s just figuring out how to do it that stumps me sometimes.

Now that I’m a mother I look back at the way my mom and dad raised me. I try to remember what worked [seeing my parents proud of me] and what didn’t work [slapping me] and use that knowledge to parent my children. I want my children to respect me and I want them to know I respect them. That means I keep my hands to myself. I’d like to say that I learned from my dad and never yell either, but to be honest I’m a lot more like my mom in that respect. It’s something I’m working on. But I can guarantee you my kids know I love them and they know I will always be here for them. And that’s really all that matters.

Over at Mother Talk we’re discussing discipline and the new book The No-Cry Discipline Solution. Come on over and join the discussion.