The therapist at my daughter’s school told me over and over again not to call too much attention to the behavior, and for sure NEVER to call it “stealing.” The therapist insisted it was a passing phase, part of her “magical thinking” and petty, nothing-to-worry-about immaturity that can happen in 7 year-olds. I wanted to believe her and do as she said. I wanted to believe that not calling attention to it was the right way to deal with it.
My daughter was diagnosed with ADHD around two years ago. This was helpful because it finally explained the never-ending impulsivity and why traditional disciplining, punishing, or even positive parenting techniques never worked. The same annoying, irritating, and even at times dangerous behaviors kept happening over and over again, year after year. The stealing (yes, I call it stealing!) started small, and at first we shrugged it off as immaturity when she was three and four years old. When she turned five and six though, we started to get worried.
It stung every time we would go to a family event or a neighbor’s house and I’d receive a phone call afterwards asking me to talk to her or search her room because something expensive was missing.
It hurt when I was told she had “more than just ADHD” and that there was something “very wrong” with her. It’s not fun to be the parent of the child who everyone eyes with suspicion. It bothers me that the behavior was premeditated with intent to sneak the desired object when no one was watching. Maybe, because she was young, she didn’t quite understand how she would be hurting the person who would miss the item, but she knew exactly what she was doing, and she knew from a thousand negative encounters and admonishments that it was unacceptable behavior. To me, while this is not quite the magnitude of larceny or grand theft, it does constitute stealing.
My neighbor across the street is a social worker and has raised 4 children to adulthood. She gave me a piece of advice that’s the best have ever received. She said that I should consistently tell my daughter that I don’t believe her, and keep this up until eventually she can’t stand not being trusted anymore. I have done this for at least a few months now, and this week I had a major breakthrough.
It was this day when I knew we had turned the corner. My daughter knows I will periodically check her bookbag and room, take out anything that looks suspicious, and physically accompany her to return items and apologize. She HATES when I force her to do this. A few days ago, she came up to me and showed me a stuffed pig beanie baby she insisted she received as a prize at school for doing good work in a subject area she was struggling in. Before I could open my mouth, she handed me a note that was in the same bag as the doll. I didn’t even have a chance to read it when she said that she had asked the teacher to write it so I wouldn’t accuse her of stealing the toy. I read the note and it measured up to what she said. I embraced her and told her I was proud of her.
The therapist is concerned about stomping on self esteem. I see this as creating self esteem through consistently enforcing and expecting a certain standard of moral behavior. My daughter needed to learn on her own that she was capable of overcoming her impulses and creating strategies to win my trust back.
Yes, I was brutally honest with my daughter. I told her outright many times how I disapprove of the behavior. There were times I told her I feared she’d end up in jail one day if she didn’t shape up and ship the stealing behavior out. I even told her a few times that while I love her, I disliked the behavior and felt very distant from her to the point of not being able to be near her when she would engage in the unwanted behavior yet again. Sometimes she’d burst into tears and beg me for a hug, but I would turn away and reject her request.
As I sit here and write this, reliving that incredible moment with my daughter that happened a few days ago, I feel pure joy about the prize she earned for real.
Sometimes as moms, we have to do what we have to do, even it’s very hard. I’m learning more and more that the pain we sometimes have to experience as mothers is a catalyst for the greatest growth we will ever know. Sometimes, that means being soft, loving and gentle, and sometimes it means being the opposite.
About the author: Tami is a wife, mom of 3, working lady and ongoing graduate student, all in that order. She lives in upstate NY with her hubby and active youngsters, and professionally, works with children with special needs. She always loved to write and her freelance writing career only recently and accidentally began, and is beginning to blossom. She is a contributing writer at ravishly.com and Building Blocks Magazine for Special Needs. She is pursuing her doctorate in Clinical Psychology with the hopes of eventually starting a private practice, going into academia, and becoming an established author. Until graduation, she will stick to over-analyzing and annoying those closest to her.
Tamar Saperstein