IN THE second year even the most permissive parent is faced with a grim necessity-training. The untrained five-monthold is cuddly and sweet; the untrained eighteen-month-old pulls cans off the shelf at the supermarket. When an almost- two smears food, relatives no longer smile. Bedtimes and bed rules must be observed if weary parents are to enjoy one another and a full night's rest.
Parents are between a rock and a hard place in deciding
just what expectations are reasonable. Samantha's mother is
an example. She's a patient, loving mommy until fourteenmonth-
old Samantha develops a penchant for dumping
wastebaskets. Her mother places all the trash up out of
reach. Samantha climbs on a chair and tumbles while grasping
for a basket. She screams and displays an angry red
bruise on her forehead. What should her mother do? Scold
Samantha, hug her, or both?
Children this age are already aware of their parents' guilt
buttons. Push a guilt button, and Christmas appears.
Patrick's mother wants to leave him with a sitter so she can
attend a lecture. Even though Patrick likes the sitter, he
wails plaintively. Mother lugs him to class, purchasing a bag
of candy to keep him quiet. Dawn is well mannered at home.
In a restaurant, she bangs her water glass with the spoon.
Her father removes the spoon. Dawn's lower lip grows large;
she scowls and takes a deep breath. Her mother quickly lifts
her from the high chair, while her father hails the waitress
for a glass of milk.
A mother with an easy-to-push guilt button may become a
servant to a small but imperious master. She endlessly
washes, wipes, comforts, and entertains. Sometimes she
reaches the end of her rope. Morris is an only child, conceived
at last after a four-year, four-thousand-dollar infertility
treatment. Morris developed croup and almost died at age
ten months. Now Morris is chubby and active at nineteen
months. His mother had been a court stenographer, but is
now "only" a housewife. Her day revolves about Morris, who's
regularly prammed and pampered. She forgoes the beauty
parlor, because Morris pulls the magazines off the rack. His
father and mother no longer attend movies because Morris
squirms and whimpers. His mother has a headache by noon,
but napping when Morris does seems to help. Yet by the time
Morris goes to bed at night, she's once again exhausted.
Invariably, she's sound asleep before the father finishes
watching television.
One sunny afternoon, his mother puts Morris down for his
nap and retires to her room. A soft rustle reveals that Morris
is not asleep. She tiptoes in, to find Morris intently fondling
his penis. "Don't do that! You go to sleep!" Her voice is unusually
sharp as she turns Morris on his stomach. Silence, and
then again, a soft rustle. The second time, Morris receives an
unaccustomed swat on his rear. Why should this provoke his
mother? She doesn't scold when she mops up spilled oatmeal,
or when Morris sucks his thumb. The fact is that his mother
hasn't gotten anything for herself for a long time. She's in a
state of acute deprivation.
She tries desperately to be a good
mother, and a good mother gives all, all the time. And who
gets it all? Morris, of course. At one time his mother did enjoy
sex, but now Morris eclipses her eroticism. She's stuck in the
myth of martyred motherhood. Small wonder that Morris's
pleasuring is her last straw. It would help the whole family if
his mother bundled Morris off to his grandparents for a
weekend so that she and his father could refuel in bed. It
would be better yet if Morris could be trained to demand less
and to give himself more. More erotic pleasure for Morris
would allow his mother more time for herself.