Raising a child 8/29/13

I've been thinking a lot about how I would raise my baby. How I would achieve this as well as maybe perhaps my babysitting. I feel like not only is finances a very important part of my raising my child but so are my morals and beliefs. Like some people really believe is spanking there children while other just believe that there children's feeling are most important. So babysitting for my roommate Cindy has really got me thinking about it. I was raised two completely different ways. One of which ways I will pursue with my children. The other not so much. Not that one parent raised me worse but I have found through my own life and babysitting that one was far more effective then others.

So from when I was 5, which is when my parents split and my mom remarried I lived with her and her new husband. This was the start of the first half of my life. At least in my remembrance. I don't exactly remember much before then of my mom and dad living together. So anyway, when I was a kid living with them I was a hell child. I never listened and was a pathological liar. I remember lying about things as stupid as eating a sandwich when I got home from school. Now after growing up I can pinpoint why I acted the way I did. Here it is.

We moved close to once a year. I never had time to make friends. I grew up with my step dads kids in the family. In my eye's they were cherished. They were like the golden children. His daughter, who is younger then I was so incredibly spoiled. They called her there little princess. I hated it! Then there were his sons. They are all 5 years or older then I was. They were so rude to me. They used to spit in my face and make me do air chair while they threw tennis balls at me. There were a variety of things like this. One time, my brother Zach made me hold a penny on the wall while standing on two bar stools. One for each leg. I stood there for about an hour. He told me that if he heard the penny move once I would hate my life. Sure enough I got tired and moved the penny. He came up to me and kicked the bar stools from under my feet and I fell to the ground. It hurt so bad but I was just a little girl. Not much I could do to defend myself. So my reaction was to get vindictive. I ended up doing evil little things to them. Things I knew they would get in trouble for. Like I would stand on the couch right next to them and pee my pants all over the couch. Guess who didn't have to clean it up. But again that caused me to get in trouble as well. I feel like my memory of my childhood I was grounded, most of the time. I felt like the majority of the time my step dad would come home for some reason completely irate with me and I would end up getting beat with a belt. I swear the sound of the closet door slamming open to get his belt or the jingle of the belt in his hands haunt me to this day. I seriously could go on forever. Sometimes I was even grounded to my bed with no blankets or sheets I wasn't aloud to be comfortable. His intention was to make me feel like I was in jail. I was served peanut butter sandwiches and a glass of water for my meals. My mom was more like the by stander. She didn't have much control over me because my step dad was the punisher.  Basically the way I was punished was pain and fear. I hated it. The one who called the shots. Anyway, I think you get the jest of it. So by the time I was 11 or 12 I ended up feeling like I should stick up for myself. I ended up telling my step dad how much I hated him and how I wanted to leave. Sure enough my dreams came true.

A few days later I was on a flight to live with my real dad. I was taught that my dad didn't really care much about me. That he was just an alcoholic who didn't care much. I don't have many memories of seeing my dad through the last 7 or so years. So in a way the flight was pretty scary. Through out the end of my childhood with my dad. I had learned a lot about respecting my parents. I did my chores. I was hardly ever grounded. School got much easier because I went to school steady and was able to make friends that I got to keep for more then a few months. Things weren't so crazy and I really enjoyed that.

Living with my dad things were a completely different environment. He had been re-married which I had no idea about. His wife had two girls. Both much closer to my age. I was really on edge because of what I thought of my dad being an alcoholic and all. I was also scared because I did not like the idea of living with more step siblings. After time me and my dad really would butt heads because he was infact an alcoholic and I was not sure why he hadn't been around all this time. It caused a lot of arguements out of spite, hurt and anger. But I slowly began to respect my dad because he never laid a hand on me. He didn't believe in hitting or spanking. He also was very good at the pep talks and showing he cared. Though most the time he was drunk he still showed he cared. I grew to really respect my dad through his bad habits. He was still very loving and respectful. It really impacted my life in a good way.

So through the experiences I have had, I've learned that it is definitely easier for me to teach in a loving manner then to teach through fear. I like to let the kids know why I tell them to do stuff or why they are getting punished. Not telling them things like "your in time out for lying". But more of showing them the advantages and plus sides to telling the truth. How it benefits them. Anyway, so this is defiantly something I am stoked to practice with my growing baby. My only nerve is I've got it down to a T how to babysit.  My next question is how well will it work when it's my baby, not someone else's. How well will it work raising a child instead of taking temporary control. Who knows I guess. Just some thoughts that have crossed my mind.