A Jen Too Many

The mother up the street seems to think I am unnecessarily harsh with my children.

A week ago, it snowed. Our first serious snowfall of the winter, only one inch, but still deep enough to sled in, throw snowballs with, and make snowmen. School was cancelled. The girls raced to drag out their snowsuits and headed for the garage where their sleds have been stored since last winter.

Within minutes they were back inside. The new girl (E.) down the street was out, sledding in her yard, which has a much better slope than our yard. Could they, please, please, go play with her?

"Sure!" I told them. "Have fun!" I reminded them of the rules when they are playing at someone else's house and waved them off, thrilled at a chance to have an empty house. A quiet, house. An empty, quiet, peaceful house.

It was heavenly. I cleaned a bit, read a bit, enjoyed the silence a whole lot. And then I started to wonder where my children were. Hadn't they been outside rather awhile?

I ducked outside and looked up the street. Yep, there they were, little red sleds vivid against the snow as they whooped their way down the hill. I went back to enjoying the quiet.

A while later I checked again. Not in sight, this time. I told myself to stop worrying. They're fine, I told myself. Probably just playing in the backyard. Not kidnapped. Not running off across the subdivision to find a busy road to play in. Do not walk up there, Jennifer. Allow them some independence. They're safe. Stop hyperventilating.

I went back in the house and tried to concentrate on the silence again, but worry kept me on edge until I was able to see them in the front yard again, sledding away. I went back to enjoying the empty house.

I repeated this cycle another two or three times, then decided it was time for them to come home for hot chocolate and lunch. I knew if they stayed up there, E.'s mother would feel obliged to feed them and I didn't want that to happen. So, after calling them a few times with no sign that they heard me, I put on my boots and coat and walked up the street.

It wasn't them. As I got closer, I realized that the kids on the sleds weren't my little girls. They were some little boys, playing with E.'s brother.

I didn't panic. Not for more than a second or two. It was easy, after all, to figure out what was up. They'd gone inside, without permission.* I wondered if they'd spent much time outside at all, or if it had been the little boys I'd seen every time I saw the red sleds going down the hill. I started to debate appropriate natural consequences.

I asked E.'s brother to let the girls know it was time to go home (I didn't want to walk up the steep, icy driveway,) then waited. After awhile I realized they weren't coming out any time soon, so I dared the ice. As soon as I was in the door I realized something was very wrong.

My children were taking so long because they were changing clothes.

Have they been playing dress-up? But, wait, those aren't their clothes... Why are my children wearing strange clothes?

E.'s mother came into the front hall from the back of the house, carrying a grocery bag, as the girls started to stumble through excuses.It took me a few minutes and several repetitions from both girls, as well as input from E.'s mom, but I finally figured out what had happened.

I don't allow play makeup or nail polish. I just think they're too young. There's time enough for that later. Right now is the time to be little, without the pressure to be attractive. it bothers me to see a small child dressed and made up like someone 10 or 20 years older. People who still measure their age in single digits just don't need to try to look sexy.

But that's my opinion. Other parents don't see things the same way I do. E.'s parents don't see things the way I do. The first time the girls played over there they came home wearing makeup and nail polish. We had a talk, I explained that in our family that wasn't allowed, and I kept an eye on things after that to avoid having a repeat of the incident.

This day, they'd been playing with nail polish again. Although, as it came out later, it wasn't the first time. In fact, Oldest Girl Child admitted that they'd been putting on nail polish every time they went there. They'd been careful to remove it before they came home, however, so that I wouldn't realize they were breaking our rules.

This time, things didn't go well. They'd spilled a bottle of bright red nail polish. OGC's shirt was ruined. Youngest Girl Child's pants and shirt were likewise ruined, only more so as she had evidently been the one to spill the nail polish. E.'s mother had tried to wash the nail polish out, with as little success as you might imagine.

I explained to the girls that they were in trouble. E.'s mother tried to apologize and take the blame. I told her it was OK. The girls (and here I realized I'd forgotten to breathe and had to stop to take a deep, rather shuddery, breath) knew they were doing something wrong. E.'s mother apologized again, and said she hadn't realized they weren't allowed to play with nail polish. I replied, giving them a stern look, that they knew.

OGC just stood there, head down, face completely hidden in her hair. When she looked up, I could see tears streaming down her face. It would have been more comforting if I hadn't found out later about the long-term scheming to deceive Mommy. We went home in the borrowed clothes, ruined clothes in the bag, tears freezing to little cheeks as we walked.

There were more tears over the ruined clothes (both of them had been wearing their favorite shirts) and OGC ran into her bedroom, from whence issued wails and sobs. YGC didn't seem to realize the seriousness of her circumstances and was soon explaining to me, quite cheerfully, why it was OK for them to use nail polish and go inside when they had been forbidden to do both and how it was all OGC's fault anyway because she was just doing what her sister was doing.

I called my sister and talked until I got my equilibrium back. More than anything else, I was upset and horrified by the fact that they had deliberately and systematically deceived me. I didn't care whose idea it was. It was bad enough that they had thought it was an acceptable solution. It broke my heart to have my sweet little people lie in such a calculated manner.

In the end their father and I decided the most important issue was the lying. The nail polish had been its own punishment in the loss of the favorite shirts. The betrayed trust, however, needed an emphatic statement. So we sat them down, OGC still silently weeping (over getting caught, in her father's opinion, not guilt over her crime,) and YGC still quite cheerful.

We talked about trust and the consequences of losing trust. We talked about doing the right thing, even if the person next to you is doing the wrong thing, even if that person is your sister. And then we told them that we couldn't trust them anymore. Because of that, they weren't allowed to go into anyone's house until we felt like we could trust them again. We didn't know how long it would take to trust them again. Probably months.

They accepted this. I think they were so relieved not to get into immediate trouble that they didn't realize the long term effects of this. They haven't asked to play in anyone's house yet, but I meant it when I said it would be months. In fact, OGC wants to have a playdate with her best friend from school, and she's getting a no - because it would involve going inside the friend's house.

We washed the borrowed clothes and took them back after school this last Tuesday. The girls handed them to E.'s mother, and them apologized for the trouble they caused her. E.'s mother looked at me like I was a monster, which bothered me and made me wonder if I was doing the right thing.

After thinking it through, though, I've decided I did. I've been through raising one teen already, and I know how trust gets strained between parent and child during those years. If I can't trust them going in, if I let them think they can get away with deceiving me like this now, then we're in deep trouble when they're older. There'll be enough trouble with lying later on. Let's not get started early on this.
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*One of the rules about playing at someone else's house is that you may not go play inside without letting Mommy know and getting permission first. There are very few houses where they have permission to play inside. This was one of those places, but they didn't have permission for that day. I wanted them to play outside because I wanted them thoroughly worn out by the end of the day so they'd go to sleep quickly.**

**An especially longed-for result with YGC, since she is a complete night-owl and getting her to fall asleep before 10 o'clock at night is quite the adventure.