In a few short years both of my children will, for all intents and purposes, be what is considered grown. They will be at that magic age where they will supposedly be able to function without constant supervision. In other words, the final verdict on my child-raising methods won't be in for a few years -- the jury is still out!

Several years ago, someone asked me how hard it was to raise two children by myself -- what I found most difficult, what was easiest and everything in between. Let me tell you. it ain't easy being a single parent. Yeah, I know being any type of parent is hard, but being a single one is twice as hard.

Probably the hardest thing about being a single parent is simply that, being the only one. Not having someone to back you up, take a turn, fill in when you can't be there, be the bad guy for a change -- that's the tiring part.

The flip side is you get to be the good guy too. You get all the kudos come Christmas morning, you get the hugs and kisses when things are going well, you're the one they rely on and ask for help.

One thing you have to remember, whether you have a partner or not, is to keep your sense of humor. Sometimes I don't always remember this stricture myself, but most times humor has gotten me through a few sticky moments.

One way humor has played a large role in my single-parenting is in some of my more creative parenting methods.

The first time I used this technique was not long after my husband and I had separated. Up to that point I had individually rocked my children to sleep, and gently tucked them into bed. Once I was separated and again a working mom, and no longer had hours to prepare the children for bed, I had to come up with an alternative. At first the children rebelled, as all do, at going to bed at a decent hour, which as toddlers was 8 p.m. Night after night, I would wear myself out, putting them to bed, unrocked, only to have to chase them back there again five minutes later -- again and again.

Then I accidentally hit on something that worked like a charm. That fall, when everyone dutifully moved their clock back for daylight savings time, I didn't -- I forgot all about it.

For some reason we were so busy that first night that I didn't even look at the clock until it was bedtime. Of course, the clock read an hour ahead of the actual time. Without even thinking I looked at the kids, grinned, and said, "Well, you managed to pull a fast one on me tonight, look at the time, it is an hour past your bedtime. You little stinkers, you got to stay up late tonight."

They both smiled gleefully and surprisingly let me put them to bed with little fuss or furor. Later that evening I remembered that I hadn't rolled the clock back and the children had actually gone to bed at their normal bedtime. I realized that as long as they thought they had pulled a fast one on me, there was no reason for them to rebel against their bedtime. I never did roll back the time on the clock. I left it that way all winter until spring arrived and my clocks once again matched the rest of the world. By that time, though, my children's internal clocks had been well set and by 8 p.m. each evening they were actually ready to go to sleep.

Another trick I pulled on them involved getting them to brush their teeth. Actually this was something I borrowed from a national toothpaste manufacturer and all those teethbrushing drills I had to endure while still in elementary school. Again this was something I discovered accidentally.

Ya'll remember the little red pills we were handed in school and told to chew right after we had brushed our teeth? Any spot we had missed in our teeth-brushing would immediately turn bright red? Now, I didn't dye my children's teeth red, but I did get them to turn blue. A visit to the dentist to have their teeth cleaned hadn't gone well at all. Neither of them had any cavities, but from what the hygienist told me, they had not been doing a very good job at keeping their teeth and gums clean.

I could nag and nag and nag until I was blue in the face, and it just wasn't working. Then one day I did something I rarely do, prepared a blue colored gelatin for dessert. After each of them had eaten a large portion, I noticed that the sweet had stained their teeth and gums. And since the kids weren't very happy going around looking like refugees from a Smurf cartoon, they both raced to the bathroom to give their teeth a good brushing. "Eureka," I thought. "Another battle won with no muss, no fuss." Their visits to the dentist since then have been rather pleasant.

Sometimes my methods have backfired. Like the time I was trying to get my son to shovel out his room in time for a Christmas party I was giving.

I had gone from ordering to pleading and back to ordering. As I left the house to buy some last minute items, I gave him a final ultimatum: "Clean that room, or prepare to die!" When I returned, the room had not only been picked up, but vacuumed and dusted as well. I was so proud of him, and kind of proud that my sternness had been heeded. I was so proud, in fact, that later that evening I bragged to my guests about what a good job he had done in cleaning the room. That's when the real truth came out. He had paid his sister to do it -- a grand total of $2.67 -- his entire bankroll.

Sigh!

Well, win some, lose some. Come to think of it, I think that was the last time his room was cleaned. Hmmm. I wonder how much she would charge me to clean the room again?

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If you would like to drop the author a note about the article please email to deborah@ipa.net

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