Monthly Archives: October 2009

A Big Cry then a “Big Red Truck”

red truckMy son was just a little over one year old. He was used to being latched to me, having me always right there next to him. I was lying down with him while he was napping, but got up to do something in the living room.  He woke up without me right there, and he was furious!

I came to him, held him, and listened to his feelings for about 45 minutes, until he felt better. Immediately after that, he said his first sentence!  Until then, he had been putting at most two words together.  He said very clearly, “That’s a big red truck.”  This was directly after crying for 45 minutes.  He cried hard, he came out of it a completely calm child, and then, out came this perfect sentence!  To me, this is proof that crying helped his mind make a big leap in language skill.

 — A mom in San Bruno, California

A Gentle “No”

sippy cupIt was morning time, and my three-year-old son had slept a little less than his normal amount. I could sense that feelings were close to the surface. We were in the kitchen trying to get breakfast going. Whatever I said, the answer was “NO!” He was really out of kilter.

I asked if he wanted apple juice or raspberry juice. The answer was “NO JUICE!” “OK, no juice,” I said. “I WANT JUICE!” “OK, here’s your bear vitamin,” I said. He threw it on the floor, “NO BEAR!” He was almost crying. “OK, don’t eat your bear,” I said. He picked up the bear vitamin and ate it. I gave him juice in a sippy cup. He did not want that cup with the little animals on it. “NO, NOT THAT CUP! I DON’T WANT THAT CUP! I WANT THE TRAIN CUP.” He was whimpering, almost crying.

I try to remember to get down at his level to connect with him when we’re having a tough time. I sat on the floor and said, “Well, honey, you can’t use the train cup today because it’s dirty and in the dishwasher,” as kindly as I could. “YES TRAIN CUP!” he said, and started to cry. This was finally the trigger that let him feel his upset. I don’t know what the underlying upset was, but he was feeling completely unhappy. We went back and forth with “I WANT THE TRAIN CUP,” “I’m sorry, honey, but we are just not going to use that train cup today.” He could cry for a minute or two with each exchange.

The crying started when he was standing a couple of feet away from where I was sitting. Gradually we both moved closer to each other, until we got to the point where he allowed himself to sit in my lap, facing me. Each time the crying tapered off, I said in a soft tone, “We’re not going to use that train cup today,” and he could cry some more. This lasted for about 5 -10 minutes until when I said the triggering words, he didn’t feel sad anymore. Then I asked if he was ready to eat breakfast. He said yes, got up, we kissed, and we got on with breakfast. The issue of the cup had evaporated, we were close again, and the rest of the day went pretty well.

- a Parenting by Connection mom

Special Time Teaches Me About My Son

baiting hookEaster Sunday I had a chance to do Special Time with my 14-year-old. First we went to church, and he did his play in church and I was there. After church, we just did what he wanted. We went out to the marina, and walked the pier. This was what he wanted to do.

I very seldom get a chance to do this kind of thing because my husband is the one who normally does these things with him. So we walked the pier. My son realized that we had fishing poles in the car, and he said he wanted to get his fishing pole. So we had to drive back to town to get some bait. These are things I would normally get frustrated with! I’m the type of person that, if you are going somewhere, you have to have everything you need — I’m not going to take you back and forth! But I didn’t find myself frustrated that day, I was very calm. I was actually enjoying it.

We got back to the pier. I wanted to fish, once I was out there with him. But then came the worm thing! I never handle worms, never put them on the hook. But he was saying, “Now, Mom, you’re going to learn how to put that worm on the hook. You have to do it yourself. That’s the only way you’re going to learn how to do it. I’m not doing it for you!” And I said, “You aren’t?”

So I asked this gentleman, “Could you put this worm on the hook for me?” And my son came up and said, “Sir, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t do that for my Mom, she needs to learn to do it herself.” Can you imagine! And I found myself looking at this man, thinking, “Come on, I’m the parent, here!” But he told me, “No, I won’t.” I was getting ready to go ask another guy there to help me with the worm, when my son and both of these guys started talking in Spanish. My son speaks fluent Spanish. Now both of the men were saying, “No, Mamacita!” and I felt kind of outnumbered! It was amazing to see how my son took charge.

I can’t speak Spanish, but he can, and he and these guys were having a really good time. I asked him, “What are you saying?” and he said, “Well, you don’t really need to know, Mom.” And I thought, “Well, maybe it’s a male-to-male conversation, and I don’t need to know. Just because I’m the Mom, I don’t need to know everything.”

I finally got the worm on the hook, and we sat there, and we fished, and he caught two fish. He was OK with that. I really enjoyed taking that time with him. We got a chance to talk. He got a chance to tell me how he’s really feeling about me and about him growing up and the role I’m playing in his growing up. He made me see that I am too hard on him. He does need some loosening up from me in order to explore life for himself. He’s going to make some mistakes, and I need to allow him to make those mistakes.

That whole day, his dimple was as deep as it gets, he was smiling so big. He felt free — I could tell by the look on his face, he felt at peace. “I’m doing whatever I want to do, and she’s gonna do whatever I say.” But it wasn’t in a bad way. It was like, “I finally have got her to myself, I finally have her attention!” I could tell it felt really good to him, telling Mom what to do, and telling other people what he thought, also.

I’m the type of person who basically takes over with her kids. Not that I intend to boss them around, but I don’t always treat them like they’re human beings. They need some kind of control over their own lives. I was able to see this after that day.

So I started this week, as opposed to making him stay in the house, letting him ride his bike to the San Leandro Marina with his friends. I was on pins and needles the whole time. We had a plan. I told him, “Son, you can go. But you need to check in. Check in every hour, just say ‘I’m OK.’ Even if I’m not home, I want you to leave a message on the answering machine, to tell me how you are. I check those messages.”

He followed that direction. Every hour, he checked in–he was gone for four hours. “Mom, I’m OK — I’m at Round Table Pizza, and then we’re going to go back over to the Marina.” He let me know where he was every hour on the hour. I appreciated that. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I have been worried, thinking, “This kid is going to get out there and go crazy, like boys do!” But he didn’t.

He even stopped by the 99 Cent Store on the way home, and he knows I love little figurines. He bought me a little figurine, a music box. He was doing his thing, but he was thinking about me, too. It made me feel really good that I could trust him. I know I can trust him now, as opposed to not giving him that chance to see if I can trust him. He knows how to follow directions. That was a relief for me–a big step. We got through it OK.

So we’re going to spend a day a week, just me and him. And we’re going to do whatever he wants to do, within reason. He does need me, and I saw this. He has been on me, hugging me and kissing me and all this week. He was the kid who would say, “No kisses!” but all this week, he’s been hugging and clinging to me, and saying, “Mom, I love you, you know.” It’s not often that he says this, and he’s been smiling so big. We’ve been close, you know, but we’re going to be really close.

— a mother in Oakland, CA

Offering Reassurance

When a child bursts into tears or a tantrum, his perspective on the world has momentarily shattered. His mind can no longer take in information—he can’t make sense of anything. Hurt has flashed, big and hot, and his life feels broken. Every cry has its own particular feel, its own unique emotional tenor. We can’t know precisely what our children feel during these emotional moments, but it’s clear that these moments feel dire.

Click here to read more of this article by Patty Wipfler, September 2009 column for “The Connected Parent” at Cleverparents.com

You can access more of Patty’s articles at Clever Parents.

Playlistening to Address Sibling Issues

brothersRecently in our family we’ve had a new baby. That’s brought all sorts of adjustments, of course, for my son. There are a few “playlistening” ideas that have been helpful, that others may find useful too:

1) Morning Special Time
There always seems to be so much that HAS to be done in the morning: getting dressed, getting food made, visiting the bathroom, changing diapers, getting ready for the day. Most of those, of course, are my agenda items, not my son’s. What really helps us is to have a short, 5 minute “Morning Special Time” that includes the baby, to start the day. Anything can wait five minutes before I get to it. And spending even that minimal time together enables my son to play on his own afterwards while I get the day going.”

2) Throw the Animals
We have a copious stuffed animal collection. One of the games that my son can identify as being helpful to do when he is mad is to throw the animals down the stairs. I stand at the bottom (I can do this with the baby in my arms) and throw them back up, being bewildered, of course, about how they keep coming back down. He laughs and laughs.”

3) Push Mom
We can’t do this when my son is actively angry, but it is great when I know that he is building up a number of frustrations. I sit on the bed (I can do this one holding the baby, too. The baby thinks it’s very fun), and my son stands at the far end of the room. Then I say, in as snotty and preachy a voice as I can, something like ‘Time to go to bed, Son’ or ‘Be quiet, don’t wake the baby.’ I keep repeating this while my son runs at me, and pushes me backwards onto the bed. Then there’s laughter, and it’s back to the starting gate to do it again–and again and again. Sometimes he feeds me my lines. I ask him what he’s mad at me about today. Often he prefers if I think of what to say on my own–I think it’s affirmation that I know that there are really annoying things that I say or do. Hopefully I never really say some of the lines that we use in this game, but overstating them and hamming them up seems to be part of the fun.”

— A mother in Winnipeg, Canada

* Playlistening is a way of playing with a child so that the adult takes the less powerful role in play. Children release lots of tension in their laughter as they get to be “swifter,” “stronger,” “smarter,” “in-the-know,” and the play helps them feel closer to the adult playing with them, and more excited about being themselves. For more information, please refer to our series of booklets titled Listening to Children.

Dad Helps with a Dinnertime Fight

brother & sister1My son (who is older) and daughter were sitting at the table. It was dinnertime, and my son almost always finds a way to get upset with his sister at dinner! I prepared myself mentally beforehand, telling myself that their fight was going to happen, and that I could intervene without getting angry.

I sat my son right next to my daughter, instead of sitting between them (which I often do to try to keep a fight from happening.) We hold hands before a meal, and take a moment to give thanks. So I said, “OK, let’s hold hands.” My son immediately protested. I knew he would. I said, as gently as I could, “Come on, hold her hand now.” That’s all it took to get them going.

My daughter got upset, but I concentrated on my son. He said, “Don’t force me!” And I said, “I’m not forcing you, but it would be good to hold your sister’s hand.” I didn’t make him do it, but I didn’t give up on the idea that he COULD do it. He began to cry, and ran from the table. I followed after him into the next room, and he cried hard about how his sister always hurts him and teases him and kicks him. I kept quiet about the things I know he does to her, and didn’t argue at all, just listened with all my belief to the wrongs he felt. He cried for a long time.

He didn’t come back to the table a completely loving brother, and I didn’t mention the holding hands thing again. He still wasn’t feeling great. But later that night, I heard him saying very sweetly, “Do you want me to pick you up? Want me to carry you?” Normally he doesn’t want to get physically close to her at all. And as I do more of this listening, I see that they’re starting to play together more, and he’s hugging her sometimes. It’s unbelievable, actually! I’m really excited that things are loosening up between them.

It’s a real challenge for us, because we are so tired of their fights and their attitudes toward each other. It’s hard to be kind and gentle when the fights begin. But we’re getting the payoff, bit by bit.

— A dad in Oakland, California

A Grandma Listens

One of our teachers is a grandma. Her daughter’s family is staying with her for a month, with their two young children. Their three-year-old had a huge, screaming tantrum that went on for about 45 minutes last week. Her Daddy was with her, and our teacher as well.

The Daddy was trying to talk his daughter out of the tantrum, but our teacher kept gently reminding him that this was exactly what his little girl needed to do, and that she was smart to work on her feelings so vigorously. Both of them stayed with her, one happy that she was getting good work done, the other not so happy that all this commotion and unreasonableness was taking place.

The little girl finally quieted down and was sitting, thinking. Our teacher gently reminded her of the incident that had set her off, thinking that maybe she had more feelings to eject about it. But the little girl didn’t answer, so our teacher said, “Sweetie, here I am. Can you take a look at me and at your Daddy? We are here with you.” She looked long into her grandma’s eyes, then into her Daddy’s eyes, brightened up, and said, “Hello, everybody!” Then she ran off to play. She slept two hours longer that night than usual, and was a dream to be with the next day.