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My parents were strict; they expected my brothers and me to behave. So when we had our two boys, that's what I wanted from them. If I came down hard, it was because I wanted them to know what was expected of them. I wanted them to learn to respect us. When I asked something of them, I wanted them to do it without grumbling or talking back.

Cynthia felt I needed to praise them more and criticize less, but I just wasn't the type to clap and cheer over every little thing they did. I express my affection differently. When I tickle or roughhouse with them, or take them fishing or sledding, for me that's love in action.

Cynthia became frustrated with me whenever I yelled at the boys for being too rowdy. Her view was, "They're just kids!" But my thought was, "They could learn not to be so wild!" I do admire her patience with them. I couldn't have handled all the getting up at night, baths, diaper changes, and clambering all over her that she has. But I wanted her to realize that just because I wasn't as tender with them as she was, that didn't mean I loved them any less. I just had a different way of showing it.

I love encouragement and in turn love to give it. I'm forever telling our sons, "Good job!" and, "Thanks for helping." Yet if Marvin was around, our four-year-old would often look right past me and say, "Look, Dad, I cleaned my plate," or, "Look what I did," as if to say, "I need your approval as well as Mom's!" But instead of praise, Marvin's usual response was, "Why can't you do it like that all the time?"

As their mom, it was obvious to me our sons needed both of us to praise and encourage them. But when I raised the issue with Marvin, he said, "That's not me." Coming from a home where there was little expression of emotion or affirmation, it was understandable why it didn't come easily for him. But I didn't want that for our family and wished he would lighten up and start being more supportive and affectionate toward the boys.

Many times, when I was thrilled to hear our boys giggling and playing together, Marvin would step in and put a stop to it, claiming they were too rowdy. Being the quiet, loner type, Marvin was more easily annoyed by the ruckus of children and often delved out greater punishment than I felt necessary. It became a struggle to keep from bantering back and forth over what was too much or too little. And I knew we were in danger of allowing our boys to pit us against each other. Somehow we had to come to an understanding or our marriage and our relationship with our sons would suffer.

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