Parenting IRL

Love Goes Before Me ....

Recently, my family and I went out to dinner. Afterwards, my husband and youngest daughter went to the car while my older daughter and I stayed behind to pay the check.  While waiting for our server to come back with change, I yawned a Big Yawn. Not a Loud Yawn, but definitely noticeable.  My daughter looked at me and began to stroke my face and my hair.  "Mom?," she continued,  "I think you're tired, so I'm going to sing you a lullaby."  And she did.  Wonderfully too.  

I was moved by her act of kindness.  First, it felt terrific to be on the receiving end of her loving care.  More amazingly, I couldn't help but notice that she was stroking my hair and cheek just the same way that I do for her at bedtime.  To see my child recreate the loving actions that I've so joyfully offered her many nights brought me great joy. 

So this is what I tried to remember today when both children were crying and complaining loudly in the car, fighting with each other, refusing any offers of help from me, and just being generally tough as nails - in stereo.  This is what I reached for in my collection of loving moments with them, of which there are many.  Thankfully.  This is what I held onto when I noticed thoughts going by in my own mind like "Shut the !@#$ up!!!"  

Because I held an awareness of my love for my children, I was able to translate what the irritable part of me wanted to say (see above) to something more civil, like "Hey girls, let's play the Quiet Game for 5 minutes" and when that didn't work, to pull the car over and calmly speak my truth:  "I'm having a hard time driving with all the loud noise in the car.  I know you're both upset, so I want to wait here awhile until you're feeling a little bit better and are quieter." My behavior got their attention and after a few attempts to get me to drive on anyway, they settled down and we went home.

Loving actions, whenever and however we can offer them, are like money in the bank.  It takes two to have a conflict and this as true for parent-child relationships as it is for parent-parent relationships.  When my kids are in a bad mood, they are still my kids!  I do not need to act out my own bad mood, which would only deepen the distress, if I can help it.  And I usually can help it by remembering them as loving beings and my own capacity for love.  Then I can choose to behave in a way that continues to build the long-term, loving, intentional, and respectful relationships that I want to share with my children.

The Watermelon Incident

I was in the grocery store on Mother’s Day.  A friend and her daughter were joining us for lunch and I wanted to make something extra special: a Chicken and Snap Pea Salad or a Potato and Fresh Greens Torte.  I was on the checkout line about to pay when a mom and her toddler son came in behind me.  I guessed that he was about 3 or 3 1/2 years old.  They had one item, a small package of pre-cut watermelon.  I heard the mom ask her son if he would like to have some watermelon now.  “No, we haven’t paid for it yet.”  “That’s OK,” she replied.  “You can eat some now if you want.”  “No we can't ... I don’t want it” he responded.  I remember thinking about how different our children’s understanding of the world can be from ours, and how refreshing it is to hear their points of viewing.

I was focused on getting out of there but in the background, I could hear this mother and son continuing the same exchange about the watermelon, her offering it, him saying no.  They must have gone back and forth 3 or 4 times.  I didn’t hear what the little boy finally said that precipitated the end of the conversation but I did hear his mother sharply announce “Fine!  No watermelon for you!  You’re being bratty.  I didn’t raise you to be a brat.”  The mother was a little loud.  I think she wanted all who had witnessed the Watermelon Incident to hear her last words on the subject.  The little boy didn’t say anything in reply.  He stood at her side quietly with a sad expression on his face.  I left feeling empathetic both toward the son and his mother. 

For the little boy, I wondered how often his “no” was rejected by his mother and how often he was accused of being bratty.  We all have the right to say no; exercising this right and being respected for it is part of what makes us feel safe.  Although we don’t have control over everything that happens to us in this world, we do have a say in whether or not we want to eat watermelon, or anything else for that matter. 

For his mother, I wondered if she often fought this battle with the people close to her.  It seemed like it was hard for her to hear no from her son, to take his “no” as an acceptable answer.   I imagined that she probably felt frustrated with her son but not for reasons that she could do anything about.  We can’t force our children to think what we want them to think any more than we can force them to eat something with relentless requests.  The only thing she could really do anything about is herself, her own point of viewing and behaving. 

Our children think what they think.  They see the world differently from the way we see it.  If it not an issue related to safety or well-being, it is far healthier for all – and much more enjoyable – to engage children in their perspective, whatever that is.  Overall, our children fare better when we work with them where they are and offer full acceptance of who they are, quirks and all (thoughts, feelings, strengths, weaknesses, likes, dislikes, etc.).   When we accept our children, we teach them to accept themselves and others.  When we respect our children, we teach them to respect themselves and others.  Conversely, a child whose thoughts and feelings are routinely disrespected or dismissed in childhood will struggle with self-acceptance and self-respect, both as a child and as an adult.  I suspect that this watermelon mom was one of those children herself years ago.

Don't Count!

This morning, we were running late (a common theme lately). I was planning to take the children to preschool/daycare. My husband was helping Mina, our littlest one, and I was trying to get the attention of Crissy, our oldest, so I could brush her hair. “ Crissy, come here so I can fix your hair.” No response. Instead, she starts to run around in circles, laughing. “OK” I tell myself. “I’ll give her a minute.” I get the lunches and put them in the school bags. “OK, Crissy. Come here so I can work on your hair.” More running and laughing. I follow her into the living room so I can try to look her in the eye while I ask again. “ Crissy, it’s time for me to brush your hair so we can go to school.” She goes to the toy corner and starts to play with toys. “ Crissy!,” I start, a little heated. “I am tired of your ignoring me! Now come over here so I can do your hair. Quick – 1,2,3!” “Nooooooooooooo!” she yells. “Don’t count!” Then she starts to stomp her feet and yell. Running on my last nerve, I look at her and I say, very loudly and sternly, “STOP THAT!” Now both children are crying in response to my words but, in this moment, I am too angry to apologize.

I leave the room for a minute and move the school bags to the porch (wow, I actually accomplished something!). I return less than a minute later and both girls are crying pretty loudly. Five-year old Crissy is pleading “But Mommmy!” and 2 year old Mina is saying “Mommy yelled at me! I’m scared!” as my husband works on her hair. By now, I am feeling pretty small. I am ashamed at the way I lost it. I go to Mina and I kiss her head. I tell her “I am sorry to have scared you. I was not yelling at you but it’s not OK for me to yell period. So I am sorry that I yelled. I love you.” She looks at me and seems to relax but doesn’t say anything. Then I go to the other room and find Crissy. She looks at me and through tears, says “Mommy! You weren’t paying attention to how you sounded! You yelled at me! I’m scared!” “I know,” I tell her, as I take her in my arms. “You’re right. I was not paying attention to how angry I felt when I started to speak to you. It’s not OK what I did. I am sorry. What can I do to make it better?” “You can give me a hug,” she sniffles. And I do.

As I hug her, I repeat myself “It’s not OK for me to yell. I will try to do better. I think you can do better too. Know how?” “Yes,” she replies and then proceeds to astonish me with her emotional maturity. “It’s not my fault that you got angry,” says Crissy, “but it is my fault that I wasn’t listening to you.” “OK,” I say. “So I will do a better job of paying attention to how I feel before I speak and you will do a better job of listening.” “OK,” she says. She asks for another hug, which I warmly give her, then sits still while I comb and braid her hair.  Silently, I give thanks for my sweet children and for my own consciousness which kicked in, even if it was a few minutes late! 

Speak Up!

My children love to hear stories.  Stories about princesses, dragons, bunnies, mermaids, flowers, peepers, and all other manner of things.  Their favorite stories are stories about people.  My husband and I will often tell our children stories about themselves when they were babies (I love these stories too!  It's really true that with young children around, the days seem long but the years go fast).  Their second favorite category of person stories is about when my husband or I were children: "Mommy!  Tell me the story of when you got lost in the toy store!"  "Daddy, tell me the story of when you fell in the bathtub and hurt your head!"  We usually tell these stories to share something that we want our children to know or understand.  We tell stories in order to teach them something that's important to us.

One day, I was telling the story of what happened when our TV caught fire a long time ago.  My oldest daughter, who is now 5, requests this story frequently.  I was about six years old, in the living room watching "Batman," which was my all-time favorite as a kid.  My mom was at the front door, talking with a neighbor or a friend.  I don't remember exactly.  Anyway, just when Batman was ready to take down The Joker or The Penguin, I heard a POP! and saw a wisp of smoke rise about the TV set.  I got up, went to my mother, and took her hand: "Mommy?" I asked.  "Not now" she said without turning around or looking at me.  "I'm busy.  Go and wait for me in the living room."  And I did. 

Batman was no longer on but I was able to see the smoke continuing to come from the set.  I went back and touched my mother's hand.  "Mommy?  I need to tell you something" I said.  "Not now, I said!  I'm busy. Wait for me in the living room."  Disheartened but obedient, I went back.  

I was on the couch for a minute when all of a sudden, a flame shot up from the top of the TV set.  This got me out of my seat in a hurry.  I was running for the front door when I met my mother in the hallway, from where we could both see that the TV was on fire.  When my mother saw the flames, she gasped  "Oh my gosh!!  WHY DIDN"T YOU CALL ME?"  I don't remember what I actually said, but in reality, I probably said nothing.  

Back in the present, my five-year old daughter Crissy asked me the same question:  "Mommy, why didn't you tell Nanny that the TV was on fire?"  "Well, at that age, I did not know how to speak up for myself.  I pretty much did what I was told, even if I didn't think it was a good idea."  "How old were you when you learned to speak up for yourself?, Eight?" Crissy asked. "No, not eight."  "Ten?" "No, not ten" I said.  "A teenager?" she asked.  The reality of how long it actually took me to learn to speak up for myself was starting to bother me but I came clean.  "No, honey.  Not as a teenager and not as a young adult either.  It was a long time -- much, much later. I did not learn to speak up for myself until I was thirty-something"  "Oh," she said and seemed to take this in with a slightly somber face.  

After thinking about this for a minute or so, Crissy brightly announced "I already know how to speak up for myself and I'm only five!"  "Yes, sweetheart.  You do!  And I am so happy for you.  I want you to say what you want to say, what you need to say, whenever you want or need to.  And I will listen. I might not agree with you or I might have a different idea but I will always try to listen."  And she smiled a knowing smile, which I took to mean that she had already lived through many moments of feeling free to be who she is and to say whatever it is that she has to say.

Time will tell how well I do with this intention of mine, particularly when Crissy is a teenager, but it is my deepest desire to do all that I can to help her know and love herself.  To me, this means in part for her to learn, through practice, to know and honor her own thoughts and feelings and to feel strong, secure, and confident enough to speak up, even when it doesn't seem like the other person is ready to hear her and particularly when it is unpopular to do so. 

Hello Happiness!

Many of us grew up without a personal understanding of the wide range of human emotion.  Many of us did not know how we felt about things or if we did know, we felt uneasy about sharing our feelings within our families.  Back then, parents did not have the widespread benefit of psychologists and other scholars who understand the deep connection between emotion and cognition, between the healthy expression of feelings and overall well-being.  I will tell you that in my childhood home, there were two primary emotions:  angry and not angry.  In my husband's childhood home, whatever emotions he or others had were not shared. Feelings and many thoughts were kept under the table, under the rug, under your breath.

Shortly before my husband and I become parents, we began to practice and develop our own individual skills regarding emotional intelligence.  We learned to recognize and celebrate healthy emotional expression in ourselves and others.  When our children were born, we paid careful attention to the ways in which they would express themselves and develop their own skills that would promote emotional well-being.  Here's one story that I will forever remember.  

When Crissy, our oldest daughter who is now five,  was two, we were trying to teach her how to have her feelings and express them in ways that we thought were appropriate.  One of our most often quoted lines was "It's OK to be mad, but it's not OK with us for you to throw things, scream, etc."  One day, I decided that I would try to help her learn to recognize the different feelings that she was starting to experience.  I noticed that she seemed mad.  Her little fists were clenched, her little face was scrunched up.  Careful not to tell her how she felt, I asked her if she knew was she was feeling.  "I'm MAD!" she said.  "Oh.  About what?" I asked.  She proceeded to tell me.  "Know what I do when I have strong feelings?"  I offered.  "What?" Crissy asked.  "I say 'Hello' to them" (this was my way of helping my two-year old understand the concept of acknowledgement).  "When I am mad," I continued, "I say 'Hello Anger!'  When I am sad about something, I say 'Hello Sadness,' ..." and so on.  Crissy didn't say much but I was pretty sure that she was taking it all in, as she is known to do.

Later than day, we went out for dinner at a place that serves all kinds of ice-cream for dessert.  Partial to chocolate since her first birthday, which coincidentally was her first taste of anything chocolate, Crissy ordered a chocolate ice-cream cone.  When the waitress arrived and offered it to her outstretched hands, she joyfully exclaimed "Hello Happiness!"

These days, Crissy doesn't go around announcing her feelings in such an adorable way, but she is usually able to tell us what's going on with her and why, which is more than my husband or I were able to do as children.   For that - and for so much more - we are thankful.  

Feel free to post comments on this story or to reflect on and write about your own experiences:  How do you work with your children around recognizing and expressing emotions?

Take It To The Limit

Something I learned in marriage counseling has really helped me as a mom.  It's the idea that resentment has no place in a healthy relationship.  Resentment is dis-ease.  It's unnecessary, unworthy of our energy, destructive, and completely unproductive.  This might not be news to you, but I did not grow up knowing this.  In fact, I was probably 38 years old before I had ever given it serious thought. That was almost ten years ago.  Even though I know it, I still need to practice it.

Whenever I begin to feel a twinge of resentment, or a thought that maybe there is someone or something for me to resent, I stop, acknowledge it, and say "No thank you," much like I do to the telemarketers who call my house many times a week.  Instead of "biting the hook," I take the time to figure out what it is about my situation that I am having a hard time with.  It's not about assigning blame but rather about getting what I want.  So what do I want?  It varies.  And it doesn't matter.  The point is to get conscious about what I am thinking or feeling and about what's underneath that:  What do I want or need?  What can I do to get it?  If there's nothing I can do, then this is a sign that it's out of my control. I need to let go and move on.  If there's something I can do, I do it and then let go.  

Whenever I feel myself getting angry at my children, I notice that there's a limit that needs to be set or more firmly held.  I set it or hold it and my anger dissipates.  Setting limits teaches our children important lessons but it is also a form of self-care.  When we take care of ourselves, we are better able to care for others, particularly our children.  And the best part is, resentment never even has a chance.

Preschool Zen Masters

Have you ever heard someone say that raising a child is like having your own personal Zen Master?  Did you ever wonder what that means?  I have.  I once thought it meant that my child would help me learn to look deeper into myself, to become the best mommy, the best person, that I could be.  In my experience, that's been true for me.  What I didn't realize at the time is that I would become this person again and again, day by day, even minute by minute. 

Recently, I've started to take a more serious look at the phrase "zen master."  Let's get the easy word out of the way first.   One definition of the word "master," when used as a noun, is someone who is exceedingly skilled in a particular domain.  Although zen is used to describe many products and practices, I agree with a wonderful author on the subject, Karen Maezen Miller who writes in "Momma Zen," pg. xii:  Zen is "the direct realization, the incomparable experience of what is .... Zen is your life, fully experienced" (for more on Momma Zen, see my list of Favorite Books to the left of this post).  Putting this together, a zen master is someone who is particularly skilled at the experience of what is, of what unfolds in our lives moment to moment.  Children, particularly young children, are all about this moment (as any parent who has ever tried to get out the door on a schedule well knows).  If we're not paying attention, we'll end up teaching our children not to pay attention.  They will learn to rush to the next moment, much like we can and do, rather than to live in this one.  

Tonight, I will try to follow their lead and become aware:  What is my life fully experienced when they are in the room with me?  How can I continue that practice when they are not with me?  

I'll post more on this inquiry in days to come.  Please post a reply if you would like to share your thoughts or experiences.

Everyday Zen

Before I knew anything about mindfulness or meditation, I imagined that these practices were spiritual ones, rather than everyday ones.  I also thought that those who had time to sit still regularly or felt drawn to mindfulness must have luxuries that most of us do not have; that they were not everyday people.  I pictured people who were ultra-thin, amazingly healthy, and peaceful.  People whose hearts and minds were enlightened, people who didn't struggle day to day with past trauma or current unrest.  I didn't think of myself as someone who belonged to this community, even though I didn't know anyone who had a mindfulness practice or engaged in meditation, so I really had no reference point.  I was uninformed and was, for some reason, stuck there.

Now many years later, I am someone who is deeply dedicated to the art and science of mindfulness and to living an intentional life.  For me, paying attention is a daily spiritual practice.  The twin disciplines of attention and intention keep me open like nothing else ever has.  These days, I view myself as member of the mindfulness community and a practitioner whose work extends to others.  When I am not at home with my sweet girls, I spend my time educating adults about the benefits of living a relationally mindful life, particularly as partners and parents.

My meditation practice is not yet an everyday occurrence, but my mindfulness practice is, and not only an everyday one, but a moment-to-moment one.  Remembering to slow down and pay attention, to stop and to breathe, has saved me many times.  It only takes a moment to change the next one.  When I catch myself and pause, I'm usually able to align my words and actions with my intentions to live peacefully and respectfully.  Mindfulness has also freed me from many false beliefs that had previously directed my life in crazy ways.  Perfection for one, black and white thinking for another.  Need I say more?  I welcome my imperfections now because they help me remember who I am.

So I am still not ultra-thin, amazingly healthy, or even enlightened really, but I'm at peace, most of the time. And I'm as loving as I can be as often as I can be.  Most of all, I am awake and aware.  And I know that all of these things enrich my life.  My most joyful rewards have been the experiences of being fully present with my children.  I try to honor their individuality and remind them that they are preciously loved by me in all the moments of the day and, of course, all the days of their lives.  

I still struggle with some of the things I struggled with before, but I can actually handle most situations much differently now.  Mindfulness is not an invitation to be perfect but to be open to what is right in front of us, especially our difficulties.  And, to paraphrase Thich Nhat Hanh (the renowed Zen monk and prolific author), although mindfulness cannot cure us, it can heal us.

"Everyday Blessings" by Myla and Jon Kabat-Zinn

This book, which is on my shelf and my list of favorites to the left of this post, is one that I open regularly.  Just like mindfulness itself, "Everyday Blessings" is something I come back to again and again - especially when I need reminding that as parents and people, our imperfections are a given, yet our intentions can make all the difference in the world - especially to our children.  

I read this book for the first time when I was pregnant with my oldest daughter, who is now five.  I was really drawn to the title as I was feeling pretty blessed to be 5 months pregnant at age 41.  I was moved to tears over and over by the loving and respectful experiences that they wrote about as parents (and to some extent by my own hormones).  Since then, I have re-read "Everyday Blessings" in its entirety, recommended it to dozens of people, and founded an organization that educate parents, expectant parents, teachers, and other caregivers about the power and promise of intentionality with children.   

In my daily intention to live and love relationally and mindfully, I think of this book.  I read it in bits and chunks, as time permits (which means usually bits).  I once read an interview with Myla and Jon Kabat-Zinn and found it as compelling as their book.  Click here to read what they have to say about mindful parenting.  I invite you to return to this post and offer a reply if you feel drawn to or inspired by their ideas.

The Zen Garden

It’s morning and I’m getting my children ready to leave for school. I admit that mornings can feel stressful to me.My attention to the clock sometimes preoccupies me, no matter how much I plan ahead. But today, more than my normal sensitivity to the clock, I am feeling a little edgy. I’m struggling with a terrible cough and trying to start my work day at a reasonable hour. My husband is away, so it is just me and the girls. No help. No break. So here we are at 8:00 am, out the door, but not quite. The children are on the enclosed porch which sits between the entrance to our house and the front door that leads outside. “OK kids,” I say. “Time to go.” I am silently pleased that it’s 8:00 and we’re actually moving, even though I had wanted to leave at 7:45 am.

Just after I congratulate myself on a job well done, my oldest child, Chrissy, spots the Zen Garden that she made with her sister Mina last June. She moves toward it and tries to get the cover off. “Oh, no thank you Chrissy,” I say. “We’re leaving now. You can play with the Zen Garden after school. “But I want to do it now,” Chrissy says. “I know,” I reply. “But it’s time to go. You can play with it later.” She turns to me and makes a growly face-complete with a loud growl. She’s been making this growly face lately, off and on, when she does not get her way. As with a lot of undesired behaviors, my husband and I are trying to gently dissuade her from this. But not this morning. There was nothing gentle about what I was to say. “OK, that’s it. No TV for you tonight” I say angrily. “But Mommy!! Do you mean no TV tomorrow too?” “No,” I say. “No TV tonight.”“But Mommy! Why?” “Because you made a growly face and that’s not OK with me.” “But I forgot!” Thankfully, I quickly come to realize that I do not have the patience for any kind of discussion about this now, so I tell Chrissy “Let’s talk about it later, when I am not so mad.” We head toward the car with Chrissy crying and Mina following her, asking in her adorable voice “Are you OK Kittie?”

I get my girls settled in their carseats. I put on their favorite music and drive to school. On the way, I start thinking that although I’m absolutely justified in setting limits and consequences for behaviors that I want to discourage, I did not model appropriate behavior this morning very well myself. Usually, I give my children another chance (or two) to do better. I let them know ahead of time what the consequence in this particular circumstance will be if they do not change their behavior. Then, if the consequence comes, I have already set the expectation. And I can carry it out gently and calmly. My kids might still be upset, but I am in a much better position to empathize and offer comfort, even as the consequence is happening. By the way, I think it is OK for children to be upset sometimes. Neither I, nor they, can control their feelings.  Things happen. You get upset. But this morning, I had no empathy. I did not give chances, I did not set expectations. I acted in anger. Period. I said something that I knew would upset her. And part of me did not care.

When I realize this, I feel appropriately bad. Not overwhelmed with shame, not overly judging myself. I decide that I will own and apologize for my behavior. And I will offer Chrissy a chance to do better before holding her to the TV consequence, which is what I regularly do, when the conscious part of me is in charge, that is …. rather than the reactive part of me, which was in charge this morning.