Daughter #1 comes up the stairs with a resolved hard look on her face (remember she's 7, so she's deeply moving into her higher decision-making brain). She starts packing her little pink suitcase. I inquire about her actions, to which she responds saying, "I'm going away for a while. I'm going to move into the tree house outside." I find myself amused by her desire, so I start playing along about taking the sleeping bag and I ask if I can help pack some food for her.
I walk away thinking not much of that playful exchange, except that she didn't seem as light and amused by it as much as I was.
As I move about the house doing Motherly/Wifey work (I cannot confirm nor deny that I might have been playing Rock Band on our Wii), my husband calls to me that we need to call a family meeting right now and make sure Daughter #2 is a part of the discussion.
Hmmmm, this sounds very serious.
I pause what I'm doing and gather #2 (now, she's 5 and is in the beginning stages of moving into her higher more rational decision-making brain) to attend the newly called family meeting that usually occurs at our dining room table.
As we all gather, #2 is visibly agitated. She is not wanting to look us in the eye, she is squirming. My husband is holding #1 who's big blue eyes are starting to swell with tears.
I learn #1 wants to move out of the house because #2, and I quote: "...hit me 4 times, then grabbed me and then threw a game piece at me." The game she is referring to is called Precision, which is this annoying timed puzzle game that throws zillions of pieces in the air at the end of the allotted time. Messy damn toy.
In that moment, I realize I missed a very important step in my interaction with #1. I never asked her how she was feeling while she was packing her little pink suitcase. I didn't take the time to really hear her about her body and feelings being hurt. Oops. Humble pie on my parent educator self that hubby clued in and I didn't.
#1 tries to speak between her escalating sad feelings and heaving sobs. I calmly ask her to take a moment to regulate while I hear the story from #2. I explain I need to hear both sides of the story because sometimes people have different stories and it's important to hear everyone's experience.
Suffice it to say #2 LOST it. See, when #2 looses it, it's big. There are screams and flailing limbs and a red hot face. I miraculously remained calm. As I held her flailing screaming body, I simply kept repeating, "I need to hold on to you right now. You're really angry. It's important to me that we talk about this. I'm going to hold on to you." I sent hubby to get her some crushed ice because that helps my children regulate and self-sooth (it's a sensorial tool and it works like magic for my kids). Bless his soul he came back with two cups, one for each girl. #2 wasn't ready to regulate yet, she was too upset. She spat at me...
Let me take a moment to express how MUCH spitting triggers me. In fact, I get so incredibly triggered at spit that I actually CAN'T express how much it pisses me off. Spitting. YUCK! And it's such a gesture of disrespect and... well, you get the idea.
Through gritted teeth, I held her face with my hands and said, "Stop spitting. I really don't like it when you spit." The amount of energy it took for me to not go completely ballistic in that moment was staggering. In fact, and I'm not exaggerating, my stomach muscles were SORE the next day from storing that angry energy in my body. My entire core tensed.
For the record, I'm not saying it was the best strategy on my part to hold on to that toxic anger. And anyone out there who isn't as practiced as I am at trying to manage the evil anger devil might want to seriously consider leaving the room when you feel the bubbling lava of anger. In hindsight, I should (yes, there's that dirty word) have stepped away while I worked the anger out of my body (and working it out of my body means, jumping jacks, singing loudly, shaking my body and arms, ANYTHING physical or connected to the breath to exercise those immediate demons out of my being).
I got control of myself very quickly, which is damn good for me. That was, perhaps, the fastest I was able to move through the "anger volcano" and come out the other side in order to access my rational brain. Not easy, and I celebrate that I did it. I hope next time I feel that volcano, I can perhaps even stop the actual spewing of lava. Baby steps.
So I move #2 to my bedroom where I can sit comfortably with her. #1 has joined us along with my husband. We are all now together again in a calmer state. #2's body begins to release some of it's tension. She is sitting willingly on my lap. I hold her close and very gently because I'm aware that I need to maintain my cool. I want to model for my children what it means to calmly work through a conflict. I want my child to see that there is no rupture that can't be repaired. Most importantly I want my child to know, even though #2 lashed out physically, there is a reason, a feeling to her behavior that perhaps we can't understand until we actually find out what is going on in her mind.
What we all learned, eventually, as the girls chomped on their ice and I kept the conversation flowing by repeating back everything I heard to MAKE SURE these girls were being heard for their own experience. We finally unlocked that #2 didn't want #1 to take one specific toy from the pile of toys they were harmoniously playing with together until that moment of rupture. #2 eventually said, unprompted by me, "I should have told #1 that I didn't want her to take that toy. I'm sorry #1."
At this point I start to weep at the complete connection my child was deeply and genuinely making with her sister. I swallow my tears enough to say, "#1, how does that feel when she said that?", and #1 says, "A little bit better". I ask my girls to see if they can find a way to talk to each other and find new strategies that don't hurt other people's bodies. I say to #2, "Can you please find a way to talk to #1 so you don't need to hit or grab or throw things?"
She nods and says, "Or pinch, or kick."
And I say, "Or spit."
And then we all chuckle.
Did I want to get angry and punish #2? Heck yes! Because the Dominant Paradigm has taught me from an early age "an eye for an eye". I wanted to "teach" her that she couldn't hit or grab or spit.
Instead what I DID end up teaching her is that she can have a voice to autonomously work out a conflict in a way that allows her to hear and be heard and SHE learned BY HERSELF that she doesn't need to hit or grab or spit.
Can you see the difference? SHE told ME the things she didn't need to do. She understood because I allowed her to work through the conflict while guiding her to unveil the feelings under the behavior. She learned it can feel good to talk to another person instead of getting physical.
I never ONCE told her it wasn't okay to get angry, though I make my dislike of spit very clear. I told her we need to find ANOTHER way to express our needs. I never judged the feelings, I simply heard that she actually HAD feelings about it. I took the time to find out that her behavior was a result of feelings that, in the heat of the moment, she didn't know how to express.
She's learning this practice at age 5. She's going to be an amazing adult someday. I'm so glad there was a rupture. It gave me an opportunity to learn who my kid was a little more. It gave me time to prove to her that my husband and I are there for her unconditionally. It gave me time to show her that all of us can move through this challenging world in a way that can respect others AND ourselves.
Daughter #3 slept through the whole damn thing.
Perhaps, someday, #1 and #2 will teach these wonderful things to #3. Better yet, #1 and #2 will intrinsically do this practice and #3 will only ever know a family culture that is about expression and acceptance.
I sure do like my family culture.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Is your kid a SCREAMER?!?!?
My kid has a set of lungs on her that could rival the best opera singer at the Met.
Seriously. I don't know about you, but when I hear the scream that threatens to pierce through the membrane of my ear drum I get triggered!!!! And it's somehow 10 times worse when I'm trying so f'in' hard to be calm. I'm doing all the right* things!
(* by "right" I mean all the things I believe to be the correct way to non-violently work through a conflict. I don't mean "right" as if I'm the ultimate judge of knowing what's best, because truthfully 90% of the time I'm flying by the seat of my pants. So, to be clear, I use the word "right" as a relative term to my own philosophical belief system... which I happen to believe is "right". Ha-ha.)
So, when my child screams, it's a bit Jekyll & Hyde because she's needing something... we're talking, and then, her mouth opens, her face turns red, her eyes bulge and I can actually see the sound waves pouring out of her mouth as the scream pierces though my soul.
And here's the crazy part. There is actually not much I can do about it.
The dominant paradigm might punish. The dominant paradigm might ignore. The dominant paradigm might turn their back and shut the kid down by walking away. And every single one of those things will absolutely break every connection with that child. That AND it will teach the kid a scream can actually give them space. They will actually learn the strategy that: scream = Mom or Dad walking away from me, which is awesome when I just want them to LEAVE ME ALONE!
So what the hell am I supposed to do during the blood curdling scream?!?
Empathy.
I will be with her. I will wait. I will breath profusely in an effort to regulate the cortisol pulsing through my veins. I will resist the urge to: a) yell back; b) throw something at the source of the "nails-on-a-chalkboard" sound; or, c) run as fast as I can to get away from that noise. I will consciously ignore those urges and I will stay.
I will wait.
I will breath.
I will try to make eye contact.
I will be there for the moment she stops to quickly say, "Oh honey, this is really big for you" in a caring and empathetic way.
I did all of those things while I was driving (no small feat, thank you very much and a big pat on my back because of it!). We were halfway home when she calmed down. Then she said, I need a honey-butter sandwich (which is our little food code for "I'm really hungry and flooded and need to eat something that will get my blood sugar back up quickly").
I said, "Yes. I can do that for you."
We drove in silence. Beautiful, beautiful silence.
And you know what happened when we got home? She sat down with me and ate her sandwich. We talked about her day, we talked about how hungry she was, we talked about other ways of letting me know she's hungry. And then she asked for string cheese. And then she asked for a veggie dog (yeah, yeah, we're vegetarian). And then we laughed and played. And never once did we break our connection. And I haven't heard a scream like that in a long time since that incident.
Perhaps from now on I'll pick her up from school with a honey-butter sandwich in my purse.
That's a great idea!
See, everything is a strategy to meet needs. I just met my need for ear safety by bringing a sandwich to my child BEFORE her blood sugar levels plummet.
Now, I'm hungry. AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGG!
Seriously. I don't know about you, but when I hear the scream that threatens to pierce through the membrane of my ear drum I get triggered!!!! And it's somehow 10 times worse when I'm trying so f'in' hard to be calm. I'm doing all the right* things!
(* by "right" I mean all the things I believe to be the correct way to non-violently work through a conflict. I don't mean "right" as if I'm the ultimate judge of knowing what's best, because truthfully 90% of the time I'm flying by the seat of my pants. So, to be clear, I use the word "right" as a relative term to my own philosophical belief system... which I happen to believe is "right". Ha-ha.)
So, when my child screams, it's a bit Jekyll & Hyde because she's needing something... we're talking, and then, her mouth opens, her face turns red, her eyes bulge and I can actually see the sound waves pouring out of her mouth as the scream pierces though my soul.
And here's the crazy part. There is actually not much I can do about it.
The dominant paradigm might punish. The dominant paradigm might ignore. The dominant paradigm might turn their back and shut the kid down by walking away. And every single one of those things will absolutely break every connection with that child. That AND it will teach the kid a scream can actually give them space. They will actually learn the strategy that: scream = Mom or Dad walking away from me, which is awesome when I just want them to LEAVE ME ALONE!
So what the hell am I supposed to do during the blood curdling scream?!?
Empathy.
I will be with her. I will wait. I will breath profusely in an effort to regulate the cortisol pulsing through my veins. I will resist the urge to: a) yell back; b) throw something at the source of the "nails-on-a-chalkboard" sound; or, c) run as fast as I can to get away from that noise. I will consciously ignore those urges and I will stay.
I will wait.
I will breath.
I will try to make eye contact.
I will be there for the moment she stops to quickly say, "Oh honey, this is really big for you" in a caring and empathetic way.
I did all of those things while I was driving (no small feat, thank you very much and a big pat on my back because of it!). We were halfway home when she calmed down. Then she said, I need a honey-butter sandwich (which is our little food code for "I'm really hungry and flooded and need to eat something that will get my blood sugar back up quickly").
I said, "Yes. I can do that for you."
We drove in silence. Beautiful, beautiful silence.
And you know what happened when we got home? She sat down with me and ate her sandwich. We talked about her day, we talked about how hungry she was, we talked about other ways of letting me know she's hungry. And then she asked for string cheese. And then she asked for a veggie dog (yeah, yeah, we're vegetarian). And then we laughed and played. And never once did we break our connection. And I haven't heard a scream like that in a long time since that incident.
Perhaps from now on I'll pick her up from school with a honey-butter sandwich in my purse.
That's a great idea!
See, everything is a strategy to meet needs. I just met my need for ear safety by bringing a sandwich to my child BEFORE her blood sugar levels plummet.
Now, I'm hungry. AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGG!
Sunday, May 29, 2011
I don't have time for your pouting!
Have you noticed how incredibly inconvenient your child's moods are?!? Have you found yourself saying, "Not now!", or in a sarcastic tone, "Oh, why don't you cry about it?", or "I don't have time for your pouting!"
I'm not making any of these things up. I have heard all those things said to children. Okay, there's a very slight chance I may have uttered one of the above phrases in one of my weaker moments. I'm not perfect, okay? This stuff is really hard sometimes and almost ALL the time, my children's feelings are incredibly inconvenient.
However, I have also learned that my dismissal of those feelings results in a rupture with that child almost every time. AND has an added benefit that it will most assuredly be repeated back to that child by another child who witnessed the whole exchange.
Honestly, that's my biggest clue that I have forgotten to take the time with my kids. When I hear them speaking and saying things to each other in a tone or phrase that feels unsavory to my senses, then odds are they are merely parroting back what they've heard out of my mouth (or perhaps the other adult that lives with us... I'm not naming any names.).
"So in everything..." the whole idea of this philosophy is basically "do to others what you would have them do to you"... I've heard that before, but where? Oh right, the Bible. Thems is some old words of wisdom. And nonviolence, I might add.
If you as an adult were hungry and upset because your sister just took away your cell phone (or for a child, a favorite toy) and then your husband walked in and said, "I don't have time for your pouting", how exactly would that feel to you? I'll lead us off with some feeling words: hurt, aggravated, irritated, bitter, infuriated, disappointed, maybe sad or embarrassed. I think it's safe to assume that hubby just completely discounted our feelings AND the scenario that led up to the all triggering "pout".
Okay, same scenario and this time hubby walks in, walks up to you with a concerned look on his face, perhaps puts his hands gently on your shoulders and says, "Honey, you look really sad. Are you okay? Did something just happen?" And he listens carefully as you explain. Perhaps, he even knew that you haven't eaten in a while so he says, "Baby, why don't we sit down and eat some cheese and crackers while we talk about this. I'd really like to know what your feeling and why."
Dreamy husband, no? Aaaaaaaand there will be those of you who will find this husband annoying. For you, I would think about what kind of husband you would like? At the very least, do you really want the dismissive husband? If the answer to that is no, then humor me and go along with my ever rambling point.
What if we threw a wrench in the whole thing and put a time limit on the entire scenario. You are supposed to be at a doctors appointment in the next 20 minutes. Same scenario with hubby being genuinely concerned and connected to us, only this time he adds, "Sweetheart, let's take some of these crackers in the car so we can keep talking. We have an appointment in a few minutes and I really want to make sure you're feeling comfortable when we get there. Would you be willing to tell me more while we drive there?"
Who invented this husband?!? I want one.
(Confession: I actually have a hubby a lot like this one. He has taught me a thing or two about patience.)
This isn't so crazy a scenario, is it? Do we really need to discount the feelings of our child because we are inconvenienced? Is it REALLY inconvenience or are we judging the behavior as inappropriate and so we just want it to end?
Someday, I would like my child to have a life partner. I want them to choose a person that takes their whole being into consideration. I want them to be loved unconditionally because they deserve it. They do deserve it, no matter how inconvenient they may be at 3 or 10 or 16, they deserve people in their life who take the time to see them as an amazing, beautiful, intelligent, whole and complete human being. And I believe they won't realize those things for themselves if it's not shown to them that they deserve it from the beginning of their lives, unconditionally.
The power of modeling (not at all in the America's Next Top Model way!). Practice what we preach. BE the person we want our children to be.
How can we yell at our children and not expect them to yell at us, or each other? How can we spank, swat, flick, ear pinch or back hand and expect that our children will refrain from hitting another child? How can we disrespect our children and turn around and demand respect from THEM?
"To be the change you wish to see in the world" -Gandhi
I'm not making any of these things up. I have heard all those things said to children. Okay, there's a very slight chance I may have uttered one of the above phrases in one of my weaker moments. I'm not perfect, okay? This stuff is really hard sometimes and almost ALL the time, my children's feelings are incredibly inconvenient.
However, I have also learned that my dismissal of those feelings results in a rupture with that child almost every time. AND has an added benefit that it will most assuredly be repeated back to that child by another child who witnessed the whole exchange.
Honestly, that's my biggest clue that I have forgotten to take the time with my kids. When I hear them speaking and saying things to each other in a tone or phrase that feels unsavory to my senses, then odds are they are merely parroting back what they've heard out of my mouth (or perhaps the other adult that lives with us... I'm not naming any names.).
"So in everything..." the whole idea of this philosophy is basically "do to others what you would have them do to you"... I've heard that before, but where? Oh right, the Bible. Thems is some old words of wisdom. And nonviolence, I might add.
If you as an adult were hungry and upset because your sister just took away your cell phone (or for a child, a favorite toy) and then your husband walked in and said, "I don't have time for your pouting", how exactly would that feel to you? I'll lead us off with some feeling words: hurt, aggravated, irritated, bitter, infuriated, disappointed, maybe sad or embarrassed. I think it's safe to assume that hubby just completely discounted our feelings AND the scenario that led up to the all triggering "pout".
Okay, same scenario and this time hubby walks in, walks up to you with a concerned look on his face, perhaps puts his hands gently on your shoulders and says, "Honey, you look really sad. Are you okay? Did something just happen?" And he listens carefully as you explain. Perhaps, he even knew that you haven't eaten in a while so he says, "Baby, why don't we sit down and eat some cheese and crackers while we talk about this. I'd really like to know what your feeling and why."
Dreamy husband, no? Aaaaaaaand there will be those of you who will find this husband annoying. For you, I would think about what kind of husband you would like? At the very least, do you really want the dismissive husband? If the answer to that is no, then humor me and go along with my ever rambling point.
What if we threw a wrench in the whole thing and put a time limit on the entire scenario. You are supposed to be at a doctors appointment in the next 20 minutes. Same scenario with hubby being genuinely concerned and connected to us, only this time he adds, "Sweetheart, let's take some of these crackers in the car so we can keep talking. We have an appointment in a few minutes and I really want to make sure you're feeling comfortable when we get there. Would you be willing to tell me more while we drive there?"
Who invented this husband?!? I want one.
(Confession: I actually have a hubby a lot like this one. He has taught me a thing or two about patience.)
This isn't so crazy a scenario, is it? Do we really need to discount the feelings of our child because we are inconvenienced? Is it REALLY inconvenience or are we judging the behavior as inappropriate and so we just want it to end?
Someday, I would like my child to have a life partner. I want them to choose a person that takes their whole being into consideration. I want them to be loved unconditionally because they deserve it. They do deserve it, no matter how inconvenient they may be at 3 or 10 or 16, they deserve people in their life who take the time to see them as an amazing, beautiful, intelligent, whole and complete human being. And I believe they won't realize those things for themselves if it's not shown to them that they deserve it from the beginning of their lives, unconditionally.
The power of modeling (not at all in the America's Next Top Model way!). Practice what we preach. BE the person we want our children to be.
How can we yell at our children and not expect them to yell at us, or each other? How can we spank, swat, flick, ear pinch or back hand and expect that our children will refrain from hitting another child? How can we disrespect our children and turn around and demand respect from THEM?
"To be the change you wish to see in the world" -Gandhi
Monday, March 7, 2011
What is this permissive crap?!?
So my husband and I are having a very heated conversation in the kitchen one night. (I realize most of our conversations happen in the kitchen because it seems to be the best landing place after the kids are asleep to actually ingest proper dietary needs and perhaps share a much needed libation.)
So he and I are having this rather animated conversation about the way our children talk to us. I use the term "talk to us" loosely since there are times when it's more like ordering or screeching or barking or even whining. Suffice it to say it's incredibly hard to hear. And SOOOOOOO irritating!
Right, so we both muse how we "would never have spoken to our parents like that". Well, I actually probably did talk to my parents like that at some point. My parents were actually pretty laid back about it and eventually I realized it held no power over them to talk to them "that way". At least that's how I remember it. I bet my Mom has a different version.
Unfortunately for my poor, poor husband, whenever I hear a concept intrinsic to a person's childhood as it pertains to receiving parenting, my ears prick up and, frankly, I begin to unpack the history. Trust me, it sounds like a great way to get some therapy IF that's what you're looking for. I can guarantee you when you are tired and hungry and emotionally spent from a long day with kids, therapy is perhaps the last thing you want from your partner.
And yet, I proceed to unpack (poor, poor husband).
Let's start with the idea that if there is a trigger reaction in you to the sound of your child whining, crying, screaming, or whatever sound they may make, then I'm going to guess you were never allowed to express things in that exact manner when you were a child. In other words, we are triggered by the very, VERY things we were not allowed to do as children. So, IF you are trying to parent in a way so as to build an empathetic, emotionally literate, fully realized human being, then they absolutely can have those feelings, it's our job to help guide them as to a constructive way to express those feelings NOT squash them completely.
Imagine. It might have been nice to have some of those feelings when you were a kid. Not that it should have been the only way that you could express yourself. It just might have been nice to know that you were accepted unconditionally. It might have even motivated you to speak beautifully to your parents with no hurt feelings, or even being able to express hurt feelings in an open and welcoming environment.
What I am trying to unpack is what the experience felt like when we were parented. In the name of awareness, it's important to have an understanding about what it felt like for us as children, not that our children ARE us, however, it's the closest thing we have to empathy and remembering how things felt. I have heard more times than I can count ,"I did _______ only once, after that punishment, I never did it again." And thus the cycle is born. If we received that punishment and it stopped our unwanted behavior then clearly it worked. So the whole therapy aspect starts with: "and how is your relationship with that parent?", "are they the kind of person you trust?", "do you think, had they sat you down and spoke with you that perhaps it might have maintained a connection instead of scare you into never doing that again?"
WHICH brings me to the word that then came up. This word, frankly, makes me cringe. I cringe at the word because, just like the famous quote from The Princess Bride:
"You keep using this word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
Consequences.
I sometimes think about how proud I will be someday as I become a grandparent, knowing that how my children were parented will inform how they themselves parent. I confess, I don't think I'd be so proud watching them punish their children. I don't think I'd be proud watching them yell or grab or "time out" their children. I think I would feel most proud to see them treat their children like little people in the making. Taking the time to guide and show them, knowing their power as a parent is intrinsic and never having to "prove" THEY are the parent and the child is subservient (with awareness I use "subservient" because the consequence of a person feeling the need to demonstrate power is that the party on the receiving end of the power play feels less than, smaller, weaker, more stupid, powerless, etc).
So he and I are having this rather animated conversation about the way our children talk to us. I use the term "talk to us" loosely since there are times when it's more like ordering or screeching or barking or even whining. Suffice it to say it's incredibly hard to hear. And SOOOOOOO irritating!
Right, so we both muse how we "would never have spoken to our parents like that". Well, I actually probably did talk to my parents like that at some point. My parents were actually pretty laid back about it and eventually I realized it held no power over them to talk to them "that way". At least that's how I remember it. I bet my Mom has a different version.
Unfortunately for my poor, poor husband, whenever I hear a concept intrinsic to a person's childhood as it pertains to receiving parenting, my ears prick up and, frankly, I begin to unpack the history. Trust me, it sounds like a great way to get some therapy IF that's what you're looking for. I can guarantee you when you are tired and hungry and emotionally spent from a long day with kids, therapy is perhaps the last thing you want from your partner.
And yet, I proceed to unpack (poor, poor husband).
Let's start with the idea that if there is a trigger reaction in you to the sound of your child whining, crying, screaming, or whatever sound they may make, then I'm going to guess you were never allowed to express things in that exact manner when you were a child. In other words, we are triggered by the very, VERY things we were not allowed to do as children. So, IF you are trying to parent in a way so as to build an empathetic, emotionally literate, fully realized human being, then they absolutely can have those feelings, it's our job to help guide them as to a constructive way to express those feelings NOT squash them completely.
Imagine. It might have been nice to have some of those feelings when you were a kid. Not that it should have been the only way that you could express yourself. It just might have been nice to know that you were accepted unconditionally. It might have even motivated you to speak beautifully to your parents with no hurt feelings, or even being able to express hurt feelings in an open and welcoming environment.
What I am trying to unpack is what the experience felt like when we were parented. In the name of awareness, it's important to have an understanding about what it felt like for us as children, not that our children ARE us, however, it's the closest thing we have to empathy and remembering how things felt. I have heard more times than I can count ,"I did _______ only once, after that punishment, I never did it again." And thus the cycle is born. If we received that punishment and it stopped our unwanted behavior then clearly it worked. So the whole therapy aspect starts with: "and how is your relationship with that parent?", "are they the kind of person you trust?", "do you think, had they sat you down and spoke with you that perhaps it might have maintained a connection instead of scare you into never doing that again?"
WHICH brings me to the word that then came up. This word, frankly, makes me cringe. I cringe at the word because, just like the famous quote from The Princess Bride:
"You keep using this word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
Consequences.
I believe people equavilate consequence with punishment. "There has to be consequences", usually means if a kid does something bad then there has to be a type of punishment. For example, if a child purposefully breaks a crayon, then the consequence is that the crayons are taken away because clearly that child doesn't know how to play with crayons.
Here's MY take on consequence. If a child purposely breaks a crayon, then they have a broken crayon.
I am happy to talk to that child and let them know that they now have a broken crayon and see if they can not break them. I can then say, maybe we can play with markers since those don't break. I absolutely can take the crayons away, but not as a punishment. I will guide that child to another solution that, as a consequence, will keep the crayons intact and never once break my connection with that child.
Hmmmm... is this semantical? No, I do believe it all comes down to how you frame the act. In both scenarios the child might have the crayons taken away. One is done as a punishment for a bad behavior, the other is offered as a solution so that child can find a way to be successful.
So how on the green Earth can I stop my child from disrespectfully yelling at me or really doing ANYTHING that grates on my nerves within the Nonviolent philosophy?!?
Ah, ha ha ha ha! Not so easy, my followers.
Let's start here: Why does holding a limit HAVE to imply authority of the parent? The simple fact that you are gigantic compared to your child, you feed them and you have exponentially more knowledge intrinsically puts you in a position of power. Why do we need to drive it home by "showing them who's boss?" I'm asking you all to have faith that your child knows that, and the lessons we teach need to be about MODELING respect for each other, not creating more subjective situations to prove your ultimate power over them.
Look at it this way. Ruth Beaglehole is my teacher. She is a founder of this Nonviolent parenting philosophy and a practicer of the philosophy for 50 years starting with a preschool and ultimately using it with her own three children and now grandchildren. If you're interested:
Ruth has said her greatest joy is watching her own children parent using the philosophy that she was able to model for them.
I sometimes think about how proud I will be someday as I become a grandparent, knowing that how my children were parented will inform how they themselves parent. I confess, I don't think I'd be so proud watching them punish their children. I don't think I'd be proud watching them yell or grab or "time out" their children. I think I would feel most proud to see them treat their children like little people in the making. Taking the time to guide and show them, knowing their power as a parent is intrinsic and never having to "prove" THEY are the parent and the child is subservient (with awareness I use "subservient" because the consequence of a person feeling the need to demonstrate power is that the party on the receiving end of the power play feels less than, smaller, weaker, more stupid, powerless, etc).
I was once observing a parenting class where a man sat crying for a long time (this man was huge, like 6'6" and he was a personal trainer - he was the complete example of someone who embodies power) and said, "My children do everything I ask them to do... because they are terrified of me." It was killing him that he had beaten them (maybe not with his hands, but certainly with his voice and demeanor) to obey him.
And isn't that the ultimate sign of a "good kid" - how well they listen and do what you ask of them? What if you could achieve that using respect and kindness? Isn't that what some of the ultimate teachers of nonviolence teach us? And the ultimate teachers are people like Buddha, Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Jesus. The ultimate teachers of peace and harmony, preaching love and connection without violent acts or thoughts. Violence = anything that hurts the mind, body or spirit of another human being.
I can hold a limit without punishment. I can indeed take those crayons away from my child who's breaking them in a way that doesn't feel punitive. It can be educational AND I am letting them know that I will help them, guide them, teach them. I can tell my child "It's so hard to hear what you need while you're yelling at me. I'm happy to wait here until we can have a conversation." And I will wait there, maybe for a long time, maybe while my kid keeps screaming and being upset and I'm gonna breathe real deep. Then, when their brain is regulated, we can continue. Many studies are showing how detrimental constant exposure to cortisol (aka "the stress hormone") can be on the human brain and body:
http://stress.about.com/od/stresshealth/a/cortisol.htm
And in children, chronically high cortisol levels have been associated with learning and behavioral problems, immune suppression and even brain damage. In the developing brains of children, the stress hormone can further prevent the proper formation of neural pathways. Here's a link to a related topic worth reading: http://www.findcounseling.com/help/news/2008/02/childrens_stress_hormones_indicate_quality_of_child_care.html
And in children, chronically high cortisol levels have been associated with learning and behavioral problems, immune suppression and even brain damage. In the developing brains of children, the stress hormone can further prevent the proper formation of neural pathways. Here's a link to a related topic worth reading: http://www.findcounseling.com/help/news/2008/02/childrens_stress_hormones_indicate_quality_of_child_care.html
I want to help my child learn how to regulate in our high stress world. And once we are both in a place where we have regulated, then I will tell them about our family. That we need to be able to respect each other. We need to find a way to talk to each other that allows us to hear what we need. Screaming is not a strategy that is going to work. Are you able to tell me what you need now? Let's see if, next time, you can tell me what you need in a way that I'm able to fully hear you. For the record, my tone is not antagonizing. I am usually face to face with my child, or my child is on my lap. I speak calmly, modeling the way I would like them to speak to me. I say this as non-threatening as possible. I'm guiding, NOT overpowering.
This talk may happen a few times. We may need to find new and new ways to talk to each other. And then one day I hear my soon-to-be 7 year-old say to my screaming 5 year-old in a calm tone."I don't understand what you need. It's hard to hear you when you're screaming at me. What do you need?!?".
This is not permissive just because it embodies love and connection. Gandhi stopped WARS using nonviolence. Surely I can use it to stop my kid from yelling at me.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Ode to My Friend
There is this one person whom I adore greatly and have known for a long time... and this person is the complete embodiment of the Dominant Paradigm. Remember that Dominant Paradigm? You know the one that uses shame, corporal punishment and manipulation as its main driving force? Well this person, and I truly love this person, is the Dominant Paradigm personified.
This person... I'm trying real hard to keep this person anonymous... and no, it's not you, I know it's not you because this person wouldn't read my blog... I don't think (did I mention how very much I love this person???). This person actually has a great deal to teach me. I am constantly reminded to move away from judgment. I am forever challenged to accept that this person loves their children just as much as I love my own, and yet this person has chosen to follow a more traditional approach with their children (only "traditional" for as long as we choose to hand it down from generation to generation FYI). And because I have chosen to be surrounded by like-minded, philosophically-aligned people, this person is a lifeline to the Dominant Paradigm that I am so easily shielded from... out of self-preservation.
Believe you me, I have tried to sell this person on the philosophy and I can safely say there is no crack in that Dominant Paradigm wall. There is no room to hear another approach to raising children. Perhaps the thing that makes me even sadder is the amount of reading material out there that supports the Dominant Paradigm... and this person's view.
That is to say, this person (and everyone out there like this person) sees their children as a people to be taught the way of required respect, the way of "please and thank you", the way of making the parent the ultimate judge and jury of how that child ACTS. For the record, I enjoy my children saying "please" and "thank you" so I model it FOR them, never require it OF them, and they do indeed say it of their own volition.
See, the Dominant Paradigm only values a child based on his or her behavior. There is judgment around every corner. And you know the real slippery part about judgment? It's all based on what the parent believes to be true. My friend believes that their child (who is under the age of 5) must sit at the table for the amount of time my friend deems correct. This child must also ask politely to be excused. This child will then receive a spanking if any or these protocols are not met correctly. My friend is the judge of the correct time and manner with which their child eats. If their child doesn't act correctly, or, heaven forbid, "talks back", then my friend becomes the jury to decide the "consequence" of their child's unwanted behavior. Dude, when you write it out like that it sounds so harsh. And yet EVERYONE DOES IT!!! Yeah, I know I'm perfect with this philosophy (said with dripping sarcasm) and I still can't stand it when my kid barks an order at me.
The DIFFERENCE.... I'm getting all shaky from the height of my soap box right now... the DIFFERENCE is that I will see BEYOND the tone of my child's voice to dig deeper into what is ALIVE in my kid in that moment. I know my child isn't yelling at me because she is spoiled, disrespectful, defiant, whiny, annoying, a pain in my ass, doing it just to piss me off, or ______________________ (insert Dominant Paradigm judgment statement here). My kid is upset about something, and guess what folks, IT MAY HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH ME!!!!!! Yep, all my kids have an emotional life that they instinctively react from that has a life of its own. I KNOW my kids aren't yelling just to get a reaction from me... or at least not yet, that's a pretty high brain function that kids can't really comprehend until 7 or 8 (about the age a child begins to understand death... not that those things are related... or are they...).
If I take the time to hear my child... I mean really, really, really listen to what she's saying (which I won't be able to hear anything until I've taken some time to breath and back away from the slippery slope of my initial reaction of wanting her to 'just stop talking to me like that!'), I can hear that maybe she hasn't eaten since breakfast and I bet she's totally hungry and irrational. (Show of hands out there if you stay totally calm and rational when your blood sugar has plummeted to the ground... Yeah, thought so.) Or maybe her sister just pulled her favorite toy out of her hand and she's really upset about it, or maybe she hasn't seen me all day and she's really upset that I haven't spent any time with her to hear about her day that included a fight with her friend. What's alive for my child is endless. I can think of no better way to ruin innate beautiful trust with my daughter than to shut her down completely without ever ONCE finding out what is going on in her life.
Does this sound so crazy?? Is it nuts to want to build a lifelong connection with my child because she knows I will accept her no matter the tone of her voice, or how long she sits at the dinner table??
I'm getting all preachy. Are you still with me? Have I turned you off yet?
Because this is going to do it if I haven't lost you already.
Could it be... whew, this is not a judgment... it's a perspective... don't forget I love this person, so in this persons best interest to further their own personal development I must ask...
Is my friend so insecure that they need to have respect shown to them by their child?
Yeah, it does sound a bit "judgy", BUT is it possible, if we respected and LOVED ourselves, that we wouldn't need the external approval process from others? If we are secure in our own person, would we care so much what other people thought about our sons wearing pink dresses all day? Would we care about the looks we'd get at the restaurant because our kid simply was unable to sit for that long? Could it be that our parents taught us a "tradition" that started because there was no one out there to give THEM the respect they felt they deserved for working their butts off and giving us everything they could afford?
Is it so hard to think we can teach our children to love THEMSELVES so much that they respect us as equals, not as the ultimate authority?
Maybe this is too hard for my friend to think about. Maybe it's too painful. Maybe it's scary.
Evolution takes time.
I will learn from my friend.
I will teach my child that there are many different people out there and many different ways people are going to treat each other.
I'm going to teach my child that different beliefs don't mean different levels of love.
And someday my friend will meet my grown daughter and maybe, she'll sit down for a loooong dinner with my friend because she can respect people as people, unconditionally.
This person... I'm trying real hard to keep this person anonymous... and no, it's not you, I know it's not you because this person wouldn't read my blog... I don't think (did I mention how very much I love this person???). This person actually has a great deal to teach me. I am constantly reminded to move away from judgment. I am forever challenged to accept that this person loves their children just as much as I love my own, and yet this person has chosen to follow a more traditional approach with their children (only "traditional" for as long as we choose to hand it down from generation to generation FYI). And because I have chosen to be surrounded by like-minded, philosophically-aligned people, this person is a lifeline to the Dominant Paradigm that I am so easily shielded from... out of self-preservation.
Believe you me, I have tried to sell this person on the philosophy and I can safely say there is no crack in that Dominant Paradigm wall. There is no room to hear another approach to raising children. Perhaps the thing that makes me even sadder is the amount of reading material out there that supports the Dominant Paradigm... and this person's view.
That is to say, this person (and everyone out there like this person) sees their children as a people to be taught the way of required respect, the way of "please and thank you", the way of making the parent the ultimate judge and jury of how that child ACTS. For the record, I enjoy my children saying "please" and "thank you" so I model it FOR them, never require it OF them, and they do indeed say it of their own volition.
See, the Dominant Paradigm only values a child based on his or her behavior. There is judgment around every corner. And you know the real slippery part about judgment? It's all based on what the parent believes to be true. My friend believes that their child (who is under the age of 5) must sit at the table for the amount of time my friend deems correct. This child must also ask politely to be excused. This child will then receive a spanking if any or these protocols are not met correctly. My friend is the judge of the correct time and manner with which their child eats. If their child doesn't act correctly, or, heaven forbid, "talks back", then my friend becomes the jury to decide the "consequence" of their child's unwanted behavior. Dude, when you write it out like that it sounds so harsh. And yet EVERYONE DOES IT!!! Yeah, I know I'm perfect with this philosophy (said with dripping sarcasm) and I still can't stand it when my kid barks an order at me.
The DIFFERENCE.... I'm getting all shaky from the height of my soap box right now... the DIFFERENCE is that I will see BEYOND the tone of my child's voice to dig deeper into what is ALIVE in my kid in that moment. I know my child isn't yelling at me because she is spoiled, disrespectful, defiant, whiny, annoying, a pain in my ass, doing it just to piss me off, or ______________________ (insert Dominant Paradigm judgment statement here). My kid is upset about something, and guess what folks, IT MAY HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH ME!!!!!! Yep, all my kids have an emotional life that they instinctively react from that has a life of its own. I KNOW my kids aren't yelling just to get a reaction from me... or at least not yet, that's a pretty high brain function that kids can't really comprehend until 7 or 8 (about the age a child begins to understand death... not that those things are related... or are they...).
If I take the time to hear my child... I mean really, really, really listen to what she's saying (which I won't be able to hear anything until I've taken some time to breath and back away from the slippery slope of my initial reaction of wanting her to 'just stop talking to me like that!'), I can hear that maybe she hasn't eaten since breakfast and I bet she's totally hungry and irrational. (Show of hands out there if you stay totally calm and rational when your blood sugar has plummeted to the ground... Yeah, thought so.) Or maybe her sister just pulled her favorite toy out of her hand and she's really upset about it, or maybe she hasn't seen me all day and she's really upset that I haven't spent any time with her to hear about her day that included a fight with her friend. What's alive for my child is endless. I can think of no better way to ruin innate beautiful trust with my daughter than to shut her down completely without ever ONCE finding out what is going on in her life.
Does this sound so crazy?? Is it nuts to want to build a lifelong connection with my child because she knows I will accept her no matter the tone of her voice, or how long she sits at the dinner table??
I'm getting all preachy. Are you still with me? Have I turned you off yet?
Because this is going to do it if I haven't lost you already.
Could it be... whew, this is not a judgment... it's a perspective... don't forget I love this person, so in this persons best interest to further their own personal development I must ask...
Is my friend so insecure that they need to have respect shown to them by their child?
Yeah, it does sound a bit "judgy", BUT is it possible, if we respected and LOVED ourselves, that we wouldn't need the external approval process from others? If we are secure in our own person, would we care so much what other people thought about our sons wearing pink dresses all day? Would we care about the looks we'd get at the restaurant because our kid simply was unable to sit for that long? Could it be that our parents taught us a "tradition" that started because there was no one out there to give THEM the respect they felt they deserved for working their butts off and giving us everything they could afford?
Is it so hard to think we can teach our children to love THEMSELVES so much that they respect us as equals, not as the ultimate authority?
Maybe this is too hard for my friend to think about. Maybe it's too painful. Maybe it's scary.
Evolution takes time.
I will learn from my friend.
I will teach my child that there are many different people out there and many different ways people are going to treat each other.
I'm going to teach my child that different beliefs don't mean different levels of love.
And someday my friend will meet my grown daughter and maybe, she'll sit down for a loooong dinner with my friend because she can respect people as people, unconditionally.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Wherefore art thou Dominant Paradigm?
Did you know that Juliet, when she says her most famous line, is actually asking Romeo why his family name has to be Montague? You may have already known that (smarty pants), yet there are a lot of people who think it means, "Where are you, Romeo?"
Juliet: O Romeo, Romeo!
Wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny they father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Act II, Scene II = my case and point.
I must warn you, I need to do a little schooling here (as if I didn't just give you a classical theatre schooling). I must explain this dominant paradigm thing, so get comfy and go on this journey with me for just a bit.
When I teach I always say, "Does everyone know what a paradigm is?" I swear it's not as if I think you don't know, and yet there are many who don't. So, for those of you who are questioning, here is the definition: the third definition as stated by Dictionary.com (my best friend since my spelling is atrocious... see, I had to look up atrocious to make sure I spelled it right): an example serving as a model; pattern.
The philosophy I teach is called the Nonviolent Paradigm. The paradigm that is the most prevalent and common belief system is referred to as the Dominant Paradigm. The Dominant Paradigm is a pattern of most practiced (and accepted) beliefs that have three modus operandi:
1) Corporal punishment. This is going to be SO in your face and I'm SO going to say it anyway, if a person hits their spouse, that is called domestic abuse. If a person hits a stranger on the street that is called assult. If a person hits an animal, that's called animal cruelty. If a person hits a child, it's called spanking.
Whew, I don't usually unload that on people when we first meet, however, it packs a punch... yeah, that's funny.
In the State of California, you cannot call it child abuse unless you leave a mark, so, by that standard, spanking is a-okay as long as there ain't no mark to show for it. Cool, right?
Blech.
Okay onto...
2) Shame. (Your little sister can do it, why can't you? Stop acting like such a baby. Only little boys wear diapers.) In essence anything that makes a kid feel like an inferior being.
and lastly... oh, boy, this is a super big one.
3) Manipulation. That is where that bloody "if statement" lives. Oh, and rewards. Yeah, like, I know it's super cool to give a kid a cookie or a sticker or a big fat "Good Job!" when they've done something we think is totally awesome. Studies are starting to prove ladies and gents, that it is detrimental for a child's intrinsic desire to learn further or to think outside the box and it even brings fear that they will fail. As a side note check out this article, 'tis my all-time favorite from Alfie Kohn: http://www.alfiekohn.org/parenting/gj.htm Read it later, it's okay, just wait for me to finish my verbose points and then go back and check it out. Okay? Please?
Let's take a deep breath. This is a lot to digest. And I do hope you will keep reading because I have a nifty little story that ties right into all that stuff. Follow me....
So my oldest daughter... who, for purposes of clarity and ease, I will now always refer to her as...#1 (not in a praisy fashion, it's simply a marker emphasizing the point that she is indeed my first born). Now, #1 is taking this fantastic Shakespeare workshop that I, in my high and mighty staunch following of this philosophy, approve of almost 100% of the time. Except there's this "time out" thing they do that I really need to talk to the teacher about....
#1 LOVES this workshop. It's really physical and silly and they learn all about Shakespeare and the time that he lived and Queen Elizabeth. Great fun stuff. And then, at the end of this 10 week workshop there will be a play that has been immensely condensed and still maintains the true venacular of Shakespeare (thumbs up!).
#1 got a pretty large roll, lots of lines and LOTS of tricky Shakespearian words. She's supposed to have her role memorized before the play must go on (I said that on purpose). Let's keep in mind that #1 is 6 and three quarters years old... she's gonna be 7 real soon. I know where she is developmentally because I have studied the brain and all of it's mighty, mighty developments (like the human brain is born with only 20% of it full capacity, and it will furiously grow to 90% it's capacity by around 5 or 6!!!! AND the brain doesn't stop trying to reach full capacity until 26!!! Seriously, isn't that amazing sh@#?!?).
Now I need to take a breath, I find this stuff so exciting... am I alone in that?
Where was I?
Oh yeah, so all these complicated lines and really, what 6 year old doesn't have the attention span of a gnat. I mean, she's got way more attention than #3 (she's 17 months old), and still it's hard to sit for copious amounts of time and memorize Shakespeare. I have known 30 year-olds who have difficulty learning Shakespeare... and it wasn't me, I swear!
Here was my conundrum, #1 had ZERO desire to sit down and read the script (which is, let's face it, pretty dry reading if you don't have much experience reading AT ALL, much less Shakespeare).
I didn't want to force her because I knew if I MADE her sit down and read she'd be miserable and I would instantly create a hate of learning, Shakespeare, Mommy, sitting and reading and Mommy. Catch my drift? What I did observe is when she was in class, she would, with great gusto, read her lines as best as her little 6 year-old comprehensive skills were able to do. She loved interacting with the other kids and she could viscerally experience what it felt like to play onstage with someone else.
Now, the dominant paradigm might have a lot to say about this:
"You'd better learn this or you're gonna look silly on that stage..." or
"All you friends have learned their lines, you're going to be the only one still on script..." or
"Fine. If you don't want to sit down and take the time to learn them then we just won't go..."
I'm sure you can think of a few more statements steeped in the Dominant Paradigm. However, in the interest of MY OWN attention span...
Cut to the evening of the workshop, they are working on the script, the deadline to have lines memorized is close at hand, #1 hasn't even read the entire script yet. I'm sweating bullets because I'm terrified that she will become shy and feel inadequate. However, I also knew, if she would get up there and see some of the older kids having fun with the lines and saying them with little to no effort, then the concept of learning lines would actually be modeled for her. She could actually experience the result without me trying to talk and talk and talk to make her understand which might very well make her hate the whole world of theatre or Shakespeare or Mommy or learning or Mommy (this sound familiar?).
My little girl got up on that stage and tried to read those complicated lines like a champ, her spirit totally intact. She read them PAINSTAKINGLY slow, and just made up words that she thought might be right when she didn't know how to pronounce a word. It was painful for me to watch, though she stayed with it with a tenacity that I could NEVER have preached to her. She was motivating herself!
I learned from her confidence, too. I was really afraid of OTHER people's judgment on me for not going over the lines with her. And watching her filled me with so much love and admiration for this child that wasn't going to succumb to the judgments of others, she was taking flight and confident that she would land on her feet.
I'm all weepy. Give me a minute....
(sniff)
Okay.
We get in the car to go home and get this, #1 says, "I need to read these lines more. Mommy maybe we can read the lines together while we eat dinner." I kid you not. She found it for herself, she still loved me and, hallelujah, she's going to LEARN THOSE LINES because she wants to, not because I forced her to.
It's a leap of faith, this parenting style. It scares the pants off of you... and perhaps that's because we put too little faith in our offspring.
Call this philosophy what you will, I will call it a parenting style from the heart built on love and trust and connection.
Romeo: With love's light wings did I o'er perch these walls;
For stony limits cannot hold love out:
And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kindsmen are no let to me.
Juliet: O Romeo, Romeo!
Wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny they father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Act II, Scene II = my case and point.
I must warn you, I need to do a little schooling here (as if I didn't just give you a classical theatre schooling). I must explain this dominant paradigm thing, so get comfy and go on this journey with me for just a bit.
When I teach I always say, "Does everyone know what a paradigm is?" I swear it's not as if I think you don't know, and yet there are many who don't. So, for those of you who are questioning, here is the definition: the third definition as stated by Dictionary.com (my best friend since my spelling is atrocious... see, I had to look up atrocious to make sure I spelled it right): an example serving as a model; pattern.
The philosophy I teach is called the Nonviolent Paradigm. The paradigm that is the most prevalent and common belief system is referred to as the Dominant Paradigm. The Dominant Paradigm is a pattern of most practiced (and accepted) beliefs that have three modus operandi:
1) Corporal punishment. This is going to be SO in your face and I'm SO going to say it anyway, if a person hits their spouse, that is called domestic abuse. If a person hits a stranger on the street that is called assult. If a person hits an animal, that's called animal cruelty. If a person hits a child, it's called spanking.
Whew, I don't usually unload that on people when we first meet, however, it packs a punch... yeah, that's funny.
In the State of California, you cannot call it child abuse unless you leave a mark, so, by that standard, spanking is a-okay as long as there ain't no mark to show for it. Cool, right?
Blech.
Okay onto...
2) Shame. (Your little sister can do it, why can't you? Stop acting like such a baby. Only little boys wear diapers.) In essence anything that makes a kid feel like an inferior being.
and lastly... oh, boy, this is a super big one.
3) Manipulation. That is where that bloody "if statement" lives. Oh, and rewards. Yeah, like, I know it's super cool to give a kid a cookie or a sticker or a big fat "Good Job!" when they've done something we think is totally awesome. Studies are starting to prove ladies and gents, that it is detrimental for a child's intrinsic desire to learn further or to think outside the box and it even brings fear that they will fail. As a side note check out this article, 'tis my all-time favorite from Alfie Kohn: http://www.alfiekohn.org/parenting/gj.htm Read it later, it's okay, just wait for me to finish my verbose points and then go back and check it out. Okay? Please?
Let's take a deep breath. This is a lot to digest. And I do hope you will keep reading because I have a nifty little story that ties right into all that stuff. Follow me....
So my oldest daughter... who, for purposes of clarity and ease, I will now always refer to her as...#1 (not in a praisy fashion, it's simply a marker emphasizing the point that she is indeed my first born). Now, #1 is taking this fantastic Shakespeare workshop that I, in my high and mighty staunch following of this philosophy, approve of almost 100% of the time. Except there's this "time out" thing they do that I really need to talk to the teacher about....
#1 LOVES this workshop. It's really physical and silly and they learn all about Shakespeare and the time that he lived and Queen Elizabeth. Great fun stuff. And then, at the end of this 10 week workshop there will be a play that has been immensely condensed and still maintains the true venacular of Shakespeare (thumbs up!).
#1 got a pretty large roll, lots of lines and LOTS of tricky Shakespearian words. She's supposed to have her role memorized before the play must go on (I said that on purpose). Let's keep in mind that #1 is 6 and three quarters years old... she's gonna be 7 real soon. I know where she is developmentally because I have studied the brain and all of it's mighty, mighty developments (like the human brain is born with only 20% of it full capacity, and it will furiously grow to 90% it's capacity by around 5 or 6!!!! AND the brain doesn't stop trying to reach full capacity until 26!!! Seriously, isn't that amazing sh@#?!?).
Now I need to take a breath, I find this stuff so exciting... am I alone in that?
Where was I?
Oh yeah, so all these complicated lines and really, what 6 year old doesn't have the attention span of a gnat. I mean, she's got way more attention than #3 (she's 17 months old), and still it's hard to sit for copious amounts of time and memorize Shakespeare. I have known 30 year-olds who have difficulty learning Shakespeare... and it wasn't me, I swear!
Here was my conundrum, #1 had ZERO desire to sit down and read the script (which is, let's face it, pretty dry reading if you don't have much experience reading AT ALL, much less Shakespeare).
I didn't want to force her because I knew if I MADE her sit down and read she'd be miserable and I would instantly create a hate of learning, Shakespeare, Mommy, sitting and reading and Mommy. Catch my drift? What I did observe is when she was in class, she would, with great gusto, read her lines as best as her little 6 year-old comprehensive skills were able to do. She loved interacting with the other kids and she could viscerally experience what it felt like to play onstage with someone else.
Now, the dominant paradigm might have a lot to say about this:
"You'd better learn this or you're gonna look silly on that stage..." or
"All you friends have learned their lines, you're going to be the only one still on script..." or
"Fine. If you don't want to sit down and take the time to learn them then we just won't go..."
I'm sure you can think of a few more statements steeped in the Dominant Paradigm. However, in the interest of MY OWN attention span...
Cut to the evening of the workshop, they are working on the script, the deadline to have lines memorized is close at hand, #1 hasn't even read the entire script yet. I'm sweating bullets because I'm terrified that she will become shy and feel inadequate. However, I also knew, if she would get up there and see some of the older kids having fun with the lines and saying them with little to no effort, then the concept of learning lines would actually be modeled for her. She could actually experience the result without me trying to talk and talk and talk to make her understand which might very well make her hate the whole world of theatre or Shakespeare or Mommy or learning or Mommy (this sound familiar?).
My little girl got up on that stage and tried to read those complicated lines like a champ, her spirit totally intact. She read them PAINSTAKINGLY slow, and just made up words that she thought might be right when she didn't know how to pronounce a word. It was painful for me to watch, though she stayed with it with a tenacity that I could NEVER have preached to her. She was motivating herself!
I learned from her confidence, too. I was really afraid of OTHER people's judgment on me for not going over the lines with her. And watching her filled me with so much love and admiration for this child that wasn't going to succumb to the judgments of others, she was taking flight and confident that she would land on her feet.
I'm all weepy. Give me a minute....
(sniff)
Okay.
We get in the car to go home and get this, #1 says, "I need to read these lines more. Mommy maybe we can read the lines together while we eat dinner." I kid you not. She found it for herself, she still loved me and, hallelujah, she's going to LEARN THOSE LINES because she wants to, not because I forced her to.
It's a leap of faith, this parenting style. It scares the pants off of you... and perhaps that's because we put too little faith in our offspring.
Call this philosophy what you will, I will call it a parenting style from the heart built on love and trust and connection.
Romeo: With love's light wings did I o'er perch these walls;
For stony limits cannot hold love out:
And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kindsmen are no let to me.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Shoulds, ifs and buts...
should | sh oŏd|- modal verb
should have, could have, BUT you didn't
1) Used as a judgment about your behavior and the guilt associated with it OR the judgment of your child's behavior based on your opinion of how you believe they should navigate inside your belief system
2) a window into judgment
Seriously. I have looked at this word for many years now. I have decided it is a dirty, dirty word. You should not use it... ain't that irony?!?
I heard a mom recently say, "I should have put him back in his bed but instead I snuggled with him and now I've created a need where there should not have been."
Hmmmm.... allow me to unpack that incredibly weighted statement...or are you already ahead of me? Can you HEAR the judgment? And the bitch of it is this: it's not all her own judgment. She is adhering to the judgment of others and how THEY think she should parent.
After Christmas I thought: "I should write thank you letters". Ew. That feels like I'm totally trying to convince myself to do a social nicety that often feels like such a chore to do.
I actually NEVER write thank you letters. Not because I'm all against "the man" and trying to revolt against social niceties. I simply hate writing thank you letters. My dear friends who are reading this, now you know why I have never written you a gosh darn thank you letter. I abhore writing them. I would much rather call you and thank you, and talk to you and find out how you are doing. Why, oh why, must we gauge our level of thankfulness on a letter that was a real pain in our ass to find the time to sit down and write in the first place? Can I get an "Amen"?!?
When we parent from the place of judgment, be it our own judgment or outside influences, we have completely disconnected from ourselves and our children. We have begun to fall down the guilt rabbit hole that was created by other people and their opinion of how we should act.
I could go on and on, however, I do fear beating a dead horse...which is a completely grotesque colloquialism.
If. Here's my beef with "if": it's not the word itself so much as the power we give it when we try to somehow influence our child's behavior.
"If you don't eat your vegetables then you won't get dessert!" or
"If you hit your brother again, then no more TV for a week!"
Right?
Nonviolent parenting has the awful task of making you aware of... pretty much everything. There's science of the brain and stuff that I will get to someday. There's the awareness about our own past when we unconsciously say something that our parents used to say to us (usually something that we swore we would never say to our own children). And then there's the awareness of the impact of the words we use. To say the dreaded "if statement" implies that we are about to reward or punish based on a result we judge to be correct.
When you set a condition (such as an "if statement") then you have negated a child's emotional life. And why do we even care about a child's emotional life?!? Because that, my dear reader, is the foundation for a healthy, school/life-ready human being (I'm simplifying... not by much). Contrary to certain beliefs that perhaps we ourselves were raised with, the emotions of a child are important and life-altering. Let's honor that, shall we?
But... From Marshall Rosenberg, the author of Nonviolent Communication, comes the saying: "Don't put your but in my face", but not butt. When you make a statement and add "but..." then you have taken away everything you JUST said. I would like to prove my point, but I don't want to bore you. Or I could say, I would like to prove my point, and I might bore you. Yeah, I'm gonna prove my point and you might get bored and that's okay.
I challenge you to eradicate "but" and "should" from your vocabulary. "If" is far tougher. The truth is, IF your kid runs in traffic they might get hurt. There is a place for an "if statement", however, there is also a way to abuse it.
Aware, aware, aware....aaaaaaaand I'm aware I'm done with this post. If you want to read more, then you better get comfortable (and don't spend too much time away from your kids while you read this). You probably want to think about fixing something to eat. See that? Not a "should" or a "but" in sight, and one lovingly placed "if statement".
Fin
should have, could have, BUT you didn't
1) Used as a judgment about your behavior and the guilt associated with it OR the judgment of your child's behavior based on your opinion of how you believe they should navigate inside your belief system
2) a window into judgment
Seriously. I have looked at this word for many years now. I have decided it is a dirty, dirty word. You should not use it... ain't that irony?!?
I heard a mom recently say, "I should have put him back in his bed but instead I snuggled with him and now I've created a need where there should not have been."
Hmmmm.... allow me to unpack that incredibly weighted statement...or are you already ahead of me? Can you HEAR the judgment? And the bitch of it is this: it's not all her own judgment. She is adhering to the judgment of others and how THEY think she should parent.
After Christmas I thought: "I should write thank you letters". Ew. That feels like I'm totally trying to convince myself to do a social nicety that often feels like such a chore to do.
I actually NEVER write thank you letters. Not because I'm all against "the man" and trying to revolt against social niceties. I simply hate writing thank you letters. My dear friends who are reading this, now you know why I have never written you a gosh darn thank you letter. I abhore writing them. I would much rather call you and thank you, and talk to you and find out how you are doing. Why, oh why, must we gauge our level of thankfulness on a letter that was a real pain in our ass to find the time to sit down and write in the first place? Can I get an "Amen"?!?
When we parent from the place of judgment, be it our own judgment or outside influences, we have completely disconnected from ourselves and our children. We have begun to fall down the guilt rabbit hole that was created by other people and their opinion of how we should act.
I could go on and on, however, I do fear beating a dead horse...which is a completely grotesque colloquialism.
If. Here's my beef with "if": it's not the word itself so much as the power we give it when we try to somehow influence our child's behavior.
"If you don't eat your vegetables then you won't get dessert!" or
"If you hit your brother again, then no more TV for a week!"
Right?
Nonviolent parenting has the awful task of making you aware of... pretty much everything. There's science of the brain and stuff that I will get to someday. There's the awareness about our own past when we unconsciously say something that our parents used to say to us (usually something that we swore we would never say to our own children). And then there's the awareness of the impact of the words we use. To say the dreaded "if statement" implies that we are about to reward or punish based on a result we judge to be correct.
When you set a condition (such as an "if statement") then you have negated a child's emotional life. And why do we even care about a child's emotional life?!? Because that, my dear reader, is the foundation for a healthy, school/life-ready human being (I'm simplifying... not by much). Contrary to certain beliefs that perhaps we ourselves were raised with, the emotions of a child are important and life-altering. Let's honor that, shall we?
But... From Marshall Rosenberg, the author of Nonviolent Communication, comes the saying: "Don't put your but in my face", but not butt. When you make a statement and add "but..." then you have taken away everything you JUST said. I would like to prove my point, but I don't want to bore you. Or I could say, I would like to prove my point, and I might bore you. Yeah, I'm gonna prove my point and you might get bored and that's okay.
I challenge you to eradicate "but" and "should" from your vocabulary. "If" is far tougher. The truth is, IF your kid runs in traffic they might get hurt. There is a place for an "if statement", however, there is also a way to abuse it.
Aware, aware, aware....aaaaaaaand I'm aware I'm done with this post. If you want to read more, then you better get comfortable (and don't spend too much time away from your kids while you read this). You probably want to think about fixing something to eat. See that? Not a "should" or a "but" in sight, and one lovingly placed "if statement".
Fin
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
That smart dude...
There was this story on NPR about a famous scientist. I don't remember his name, though I'm sure he was very, very smart, and I think he won a Nobel Peace Prize... at least, that's how I remember it. Suffice it to say, he was a brilliant scientist and he said on national radio that he owed it all to his mother. Here's the story as I recall:
When he was young scientist in the making, like around 5, his family used to get those old fashioned glass milk containers delivered to their door. One day he tried to pick up the milk which had become slippery due to condensation on the bottle. Well the damn thing spilled all over the floor. His mom came over and simply said, "Oops, you spilled the milk. Were you trying to carry it? It was too slippery and fell out of your hands. Let's clean this up together and then we'll practice carrying the milk." And somewhere in there she asked if he wanted to play in the milk. I know, she's way advanced, because seriously, who really wants their kid to play with milk all over the kitchen floor. She must have been totally zenned out.
So this scientist in the making kid is playing with the milk (what kid wouldn't seize that opportunity!) and when he was done his mom helped him pick out the cleaning implement. He chose a sponge. They cleaned the mess and THEN his mom filled the milk container with water and sent him outside to practice carrying the milk bottle around in a manner that would keep it from slipping from his hands. Scientist Man then said: "My Mother taught me it was okay to fail."
Wow.
Get it?
Instead of getting mad at him for trying to do something he really ought of asked for help doing, she let him PLAY IN IT, got him to clean it up WITH HER, and then encouraged him to find out how to carry it himself, WHICH (I just had to write in all caps one last time) is, in essence, a science experiment. He explains that he failed in his experiments as an adult but he never once had the shame that is placed on "failure". He simply played with his failure... well, I don't know if he did that but it's funny to think about, and moved on to figure out why it failed and he tried again.
My point in all of this is, inside of the Nonviolent philosophy, we don't need to shame a child, no matter how significantly we judge the unwanted behavior to be. There is ALWAYS (all caps... sorry) room for staying connected to our kids.
Yesterday, my middle child, whom I shall name Louie (the feminine version of the name, with the emphasis on the last syllable), charges at my oldest...named...Huey (also feminine with emphasis at the end) on our little plastic, wholly unkempt dirty backyard slide. Louie knocked Huey to the ground while Dewey (yes, my youngest, and guess where the emphasis goes?) looked on watching the entire exchange. Huey is in tears, Louie keeps babbling that it was an accident, and Dewey stares wide eyed at me to see how I might respond.
I try to take a moment, but the sight of my Huey sprawled on the dirty ground (which is only slightly more dirty than the slide she was just knocked off of) really triggered me. I calmly walk toward the trio, and a bit like the Hulk I go for my default grabbing of poor Louie's arms to ask her "What were you thinking?!?" I grab too tight, tighter than I mean...damn that always happens to me.
I release my grip the moment I see Louie's bottom lip tremble and her eyes get watery. I really have to breathe. I put my head down, take a moment, and then look up to focus intensely on my child's sweet blue 4 year-old eyes.
I simply say, "I was really scared for your sister. It looked like it really hurt. Baby, please be careful." She says, "It was an accident".
I say, "I know. Please be careful of people's bodies." I wait a beat to see her acknowledgement. I check in with Dewey (she's now moved to the nasty old slide). Low and behold, my baby is crouching down next to Louie. She's totally checking in with Louie. She saw everything I did and is parroting me.
She's the sponge in this experiment.
Huey was the milk.
Louie was the scientist in the making kid.
Dewey was the sponge.
I cannot shame my child for making a mistake.
I CAN help show her how to do it in a way that won't spill the milk.
The milk was not hurt in this story. She was fine. We sat down and talked for a bit. She saw it was a mistake.
I don't ever want my kids to be afraid to make a mistake.
I want them to intrinsically learn from them.
And then I want them to try again because they want to, not because I make them.
Punishment will, 100% of the time, succeed in making a child scared.
Let me ask you, do you learn best when you're scared?
Do you remember the teachers you had in school because they scared you or because they took the time to talk to you, connect with you, and show you how to do something?
I'm going to go clean that slide now.
When he was young scientist in the making, like around 5, his family used to get those old fashioned glass milk containers delivered to their door. One day he tried to pick up the milk which had become slippery due to condensation on the bottle. Well the damn thing spilled all over the floor. His mom came over and simply said, "Oops, you spilled the milk. Were you trying to carry it? It was too slippery and fell out of your hands. Let's clean this up together and then we'll practice carrying the milk." And somewhere in there she asked if he wanted to play in the milk. I know, she's way advanced, because seriously, who really wants their kid to play with milk all over the kitchen floor. She must have been totally zenned out.
So this scientist in the making kid is playing with the milk (what kid wouldn't seize that opportunity!) and when he was done his mom helped him pick out the cleaning implement. He chose a sponge. They cleaned the mess and THEN his mom filled the milk container with water and sent him outside to practice carrying the milk bottle around in a manner that would keep it from slipping from his hands. Scientist Man then said: "My Mother taught me it was okay to fail."
Wow.
Get it?
Instead of getting mad at him for trying to do something he really ought of asked for help doing, she let him PLAY IN IT, got him to clean it up WITH HER, and then encouraged him to find out how to carry it himself, WHICH (I just had to write in all caps one last time) is, in essence, a science experiment. He explains that he failed in his experiments as an adult but he never once had the shame that is placed on "failure". He simply played with his failure... well, I don't know if he did that but it's funny to think about, and moved on to figure out why it failed and he tried again.
My point in all of this is, inside of the Nonviolent philosophy, we don't need to shame a child, no matter how significantly we judge the unwanted behavior to be. There is ALWAYS (all caps... sorry) room for staying connected to our kids.
Yesterday, my middle child, whom I shall name Louie (the feminine version of the name, with the emphasis on the last syllable), charges at my oldest...named...Huey (also feminine with emphasis at the end) on our little plastic, wholly unkempt dirty backyard slide. Louie knocked Huey to the ground while Dewey (yes, my youngest, and guess where the emphasis goes?) looked on watching the entire exchange. Huey is in tears, Louie keeps babbling that it was an accident, and Dewey stares wide eyed at me to see how I might respond.
I try to take a moment, but the sight of my Huey sprawled on the dirty ground (which is only slightly more dirty than the slide she was just knocked off of) really triggered me. I calmly walk toward the trio, and a bit like the Hulk I go for my default grabbing of poor Louie's arms to ask her "What were you thinking?!?" I grab too tight, tighter than I mean...damn that always happens to me.
I release my grip the moment I see Louie's bottom lip tremble and her eyes get watery. I really have to breathe. I put my head down, take a moment, and then look up to focus intensely on my child's sweet blue 4 year-old eyes.
I simply say, "I was really scared for your sister. It looked like it really hurt. Baby, please be careful." She says, "It was an accident".
I say, "I know. Please be careful of people's bodies." I wait a beat to see her acknowledgement. I check in with Dewey (she's now moved to the nasty old slide). Low and behold, my baby is crouching down next to Louie. She's totally checking in with Louie. She saw everything I did and is parroting me.
She's the sponge in this experiment.
Huey was the milk.
Louie was the scientist in the making kid.
Dewey was the sponge.
I cannot shame my child for making a mistake.
I CAN help show her how to do it in a way that won't spill the milk.
The milk was not hurt in this story. She was fine. We sat down and talked for a bit. She saw it was a mistake.
I don't ever want my kids to be afraid to make a mistake.
I want them to intrinsically learn from them.
And then I want them to try again because they want to, not because I make them.
Punishment will, 100% of the time, succeed in making a child scared.
Let me ask you, do you learn best when you're scared?
Do you remember the teachers you had in school because they scared you or because they took the time to talk to you, connect with you, and show you how to do something?
I'm going to go clean that slide now.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
And we're off!!!
This is a test. In the event of a real blog, please feel free to read the entire post. For now...this is just a test.
I've done the blogging thing before. I'm kind of surprised it's not totally "so 5 minutes ago". Then again, maybe it is and I'm just so clueless that I'm not aware of what's hip.
My story, in short, is that I am trained in this crazy philosophy called "Nonviolent Parenting and Education". Much to your surprise, it's not just about staving from hitting your child. It is... well... MUCH more than that. Suffice it to say I am absolutely crazy smitten with the philosophy and how much it has changed my marriage, my relationship with my children and my entire view of humanity.
Yeah, it's just that powerful.
I do believe this philosophy is the path to peace, as a way to let go of the anger and revenge we humans so desperately hang on to, a whole new way to view our own lives and the future lives of our children.
And then there are times when it's just so @#%*! hard and I want to hit something... not my child... a large pillow would suffice.
Because, like anything that's going to change the world, it takes time to evolve.
This philosophy is a practice, like yoga, or playing an instrument. And people think I'm CRAZY for talking to my children as if they are fully functioning adults. "Stop acting like a child", is NOT something I will say to my CHILD. My child is a child, and I expect she will act like a child. All my girls will become adults before I know it, and dear Lord, PLEASE LET MY CHILD ACT LIKE A CHILD. It ain't gonna last forever!
I have three kids... girls to be exact. I was 29 when my first born changed my life forever. I'm 35 now and damn is it hard when my youngest, 16 months old, doesn't sleep because she's getting molars. I sure don't bounce back from sleeplessness like I used to. I digress....
So follow, if you will, on my wholly imperfect practice of the philosophy. I try with all my being to practice what I preach to other parents. And like any good therapist will tell you, therapists are perhaps the most screwed up people... which is why they pursued therapy in the first place, because it's most likely the very thing that saved them from themselves.
I struggle everyday to practice what I literally teach. It's harder than nails and I wouldn't trade it for nothin'.
And so we begin...
I've done the blogging thing before. I'm kind of surprised it's not totally "so 5 minutes ago". Then again, maybe it is and I'm just so clueless that I'm not aware of what's hip.
My story, in short, is that I am trained in this crazy philosophy called "Nonviolent Parenting and Education". Much to your surprise, it's not just about staving from hitting your child. It is... well... MUCH more than that. Suffice it to say I am absolutely crazy smitten with the philosophy and how much it has changed my marriage, my relationship with my children and my entire view of humanity.
Yeah, it's just that powerful.
I do believe this philosophy is the path to peace, as a way to let go of the anger and revenge we humans so desperately hang on to, a whole new way to view our own lives and the future lives of our children.
And then there are times when it's just so @#%*! hard and I want to hit something... not my child... a large pillow would suffice.
Because, like anything that's going to change the world, it takes time to evolve.
This philosophy is a practice, like yoga, or playing an instrument. And people think I'm CRAZY for talking to my children as if they are fully functioning adults. "Stop acting like a child", is NOT something I will say to my CHILD. My child is a child, and I expect she will act like a child. All my girls will become adults before I know it, and dear Lord, PLEASE LET MY CHILD ACT LIKE A CHILD. It ain't gonna last forever!
I have three kids... girls to be exact. I was 29 when my first born changed my life forever. I'm 35 now and damn is it hard when my youngest, 16 months old, doesn't sleep because she's getting molars. I sure don't bounce back from sleeplessness like I used to. I digress....
So follow, if you will, on my wholly imperfect practice of the philosophy. I try with all my being to practice what I preach to other parents. And like any good therapist will tell you, therapists are perhaps the most screwed up people... which is why they pursued therapy in the first place, because it's most likely the very thing that saved them from themselves.
I struggle everyday to practice what I literally teach. It's harder than nails and I wouldn't trade it for nothin'.
And so we begin...
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