Parenting Dilemmas

There are times as a parent when we need to crack down. Lay down the law. Toe the line. These are the moments that try us, test us, require us to prove our mettle. These are the flashes in which we soar or fail, pat ourselves on the back and say, "we are great parents" or hang our heads in shame.
These moments happen 20 times a day.
Recently, I have been reflecting on the punishment situation. I have yet to devise a punishment for my children that does not take me down as collateral damage. This dilemma has been mathematically identified and is famously known as E=MC2. (Educational opportunity=Mommy's Co-suffering squared).

• "You may not watch TV for 3 days" = three days of "Mommy, I'm bored. Can I play on your computer?"

• "You may not have dessert for 3 days" = three days of "Mommy, I thought you said I was supposed to eat MORE calories."

• "You may not have Wii for 3 days" = three days of "Mommy, I'm bored. Can I play on your computer?

In fact, this weekend, M punished E no Wii or TV for the weekend. E sagged with disappointment as his hopes of a family Mario Tourney faded. M, feeling proud, walked away from E satisfied that the appropriate punishment had been meted out.
"What about Sunday?" I ask. "What about it?" counters M, his eyes showing his mental calendar check. "Hockey. USA vs Canada. You're going to want him to play Wii and leave us alone." "Crap. I'll have to think of something else." We then wait for E to come and beg us for a commuted sentence, and we 'begrudgingly' exchange Wii for no dessert for the week. Phew. Hockey crisis averted.
What to do? Why is it so hard to punish children? I have considered spanking, primarily because it is fast, vivid, and then over with, the only consequence to me being a red palm. But, then I find myself with a whole new dilemma: how to spank a child for hitting his brother? Do you actually say without irony, "I am going to whack you three times so that you know that using your body to express anger is wrong?" I don't think I can. I have been known to spank, and I use this in the dire circumstance of (usually S) doing something so dangerous that I want him to associate it with severe pain. I usually whack the top of his hand to remind him that the stove is hot and climbing on it is not a wise idea. At least I know my whack isn't going to send him to the ER, which is more than I can say for the stove.
Another dilemma occurs with preemptive action. This, too has a mathematical description: The New Deal Conundrum. Much like the executors of the New Deal, parents must often assign jobs to keep children busy and out of trouble. These jobs are usually non-essential and should not result in further work for parents. (For example, I once mistakenly assigned S to wash the floors in the bathroom. Every bath towel in the house later, I had managed to absorb most of the flood he created. Make-work project fail.) Occasionally, when faced with actual labor, the household power structure realigns as the children realize THEY are united against US. This power shift, coupled with their shared sense of injustice prompts them to play wonderfully together. Often "clear the table" will result in an hour of quiet and happy Hot Wheels races. Or "bring down the laundry" generates an afternoon of imaginative play. Of course, our goal is achieved: the kids are out of our hair and doing something productive. The downside is that they completely ignored us. They did not learn about working together on an unpleasant job, nor did they complete the task I set aside for them. But, as everybody knows, you don't disrupt happily playing children. It's a golden kind of silence, a nearly sacred gift of peace and quiet. You don't barge in on that to get a few dishes cleared. So, I concede, do the job myself. At least when I do the job myself, it is done correctly, and while they play, in silence.
This all reminds us that it is all balance--a system of give and take (mostly give from the parental side) and we must be willing to trust the system flow. Children, who have nothing else to do with their time than plot against us, have surely identified our weakness and knowingly capitalize on it gleefully.
Parenting is a learned art, a methodology practiced rather than mastered, and defined by (hopefully) mini failures hidden by overall success. Being a child, it seems, is an innate knowledge, an instinct so deeply embedded in our collective humanity, that kids are born experts. Thus, parents start with an immediate handicap.
We select our battles, we try to model behavior, reinforce good behavior, punish sparingly and effectively. I take comfort in the words of the lonely gambler, "you gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em. Know when to walk away, know when to run."
Some days, though, I know they're chasing me.