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Marilu Henner is well known for her roles in Taxi and Evening Shade and her participation in The Celebrity Apprentice. She is the author of two other New York Times bestselling books, Marilu Henner's Total Health Makeover and Healthy Life Kitchen. She lives in Los Angeles.

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Parents often confuse love with overindulgence, afraid to subject their children to a moment of frustration or deprive them of anything they might desire. But in order to become resilient and responsible adults, children must learn that they can't always get their way.

Since motherhood is now her most important role, beloved actress Marilu Henner has often turned to Dr. Ruth Velikovsky Sharon, a highly respected psychoanalyst, for advice on raising her own children. This practical, accessible guidebook that they've compiled together shows parents how to:

• Establish parent-child contracts and effective methods of discipline
• Handle temper tantrums, bedtime issues, sibling rivalry, lying, and much more
• Help their children tolerate frustration and become comfortable with difficult feelings

Filled with dozens of real-life questions, practical advice, and humorous anecdotes, I Refuse to Raise a Brat is a witty and useful resource to help parents raise secure and self-reliant children.

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I Refuse to Raise a Brat

ReganBooks

When I brought my son Nicky home, I couldn't believe that only twenty-four hours earlier, he had been growing inside me. And part of me still wanted to feel connected. In retrospect, I think that probably had more to do with my hormones and my needs than it had to do with what was best for him. And just like a new diet, a New Year's resolution, or the first day of a new school year, I approached this experience wanting everything to be perfect.

I'd already found the best crib, picked out the ideal wallpaper, organized all the clothes and toys and bedding that I'd gotten at my baby shower. I was bursting with joy as I picked up every little sock and T-shirt, not really believing that a whole human being could actually fit into those teeny-tiny clothes. Nothing seemed entirely real. During my pregnancy, I felt Nicky growing and kicking, but at that point he seemed to be more part of me than his own person. I think that's why his room became so significant. I realized that this was going to be the place where he would begin his own independent life, wearing those impossibly tiny T-shirts! He was going to be living in this whole new world and I was going to be the one responsible for setting it up. And I wanted it to be just right.

So when I got Nicky home from the hospital, it wasn't enough that I wouldn't let anyone hold him without washing his hands first. I even got squeamish if anyone had too much perfume or garlic breath or the slightest body odor because I didn't want my perfect baby, in his perfect world, to have to smell anything unpleasant! I remember asking everyone to be quiet all the time, especially my husband. I thought his voice was too loud for "my" baby.

Luckily, after a few days, I snapped out of this nonsense. Besides, there were too many people around. Phones were ringing, music was blasting, doors were slamming, odors were permeating, and I just couldn't fight it anymore. I thought, "This is my real home. Why am I trying to create an artificial environment for Nicky? This is how I really live. Why am I trying to raise a boy in a plastic bubble?"

I myself came from a very loud, wild, and outspoken family. Our house always had lots of visitors and constant activity. We had a dancing school in our garage, a part-time beauty salon in the kitchen, and art classes going on upstairs. And my bedroom was, by far, the noisiest in the house. It had no door and was actually connected to the kitchen/beauty shop, the busiest and neon-brightest room in the house. My room growing up was the complete opposite of what I was trying to set up for Nicky. Forget about my going to bed early or having a perfectly organized, quiet environment. I had the bright kitchen light shining in my eyes and the family phone ringing in my ears at all hours of the day and night, and while people ate late-night snacks, they could look into my room and see me sleeping in my little bed. I was the original Truman Show!

Re-creating the Womb
Thanks to a lot of good advice from Dr. Sharon, I've given up the notion of creating a perfect environment. I'm letting my kids see not only who I am, the real me, but also a little bit of the heritage that they came from . . . a loud and colorful family that was far from perfect. And I feel they will be much better off as human beings because they will be better able to adapt to a variety of situations and people as they move through their lives. Besides, who wants what can never be re-created? Why set up a world for your children that will never exist in the real world?

Dr. Sharon's View
The incredible moment of birth is, from the newborn's point of view, a rude awakening. Birth is his first encounter with frustration. Forced from the perfect environment of the womb where all his needs--nourishment, warmth, comfort, closeness, security--were met, the newborn enters a world where total gratification is no longer guaranteed. He begins to have to figure out how to get these most basic needs met within a reasonable amount of time. And from that moment on, life becomes a progression of steps moving from total dependence to self-sufficiency.

I believe that the parent who hovers over his baby, instantly gratifying every demand and avoiding the slightest frustration, denies the baby the opportunity to begin the wondrous journey of emotional development that will lead to healthy independence and self-sufficiency. Treating a baby as if he were still in the womb does a great disservice to the small but intrepid explorer who is ready and eager to take his first emotional steps in a noisy, imperfect, glorious world.

Overgratification takes many forms and often begins in the first few months of life. And ironically, what seems to a new parent like an enlightened idea or loving gesture can be anything but. One example is the entire category of products intended to simulate the experience of being in the womb. Bassinets that rock and hum, temperature-controlled cribs with vibrating mattresses, stuffed teddy bears that come with a mechanical heartbeat, all send the message that returning to the womb is desirable, thereby delaying the necessary adjustment to life outside the womb.

Excerpted from I Refuse to Raise a Bratby Henner, Marilu Copyright © 2004 by Marilu Henner. Excerpted by permission.
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