Monthly Archives: February 2012

It’s Not a “Pretty” Issue

Once upon a time…

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Who’s the fairest of them all?”

Who doesn’t remember this classic line from the evil queen in Snow White? While our girls prefer to relate to the sweet, kind and, of course, beautiful Snow White, it is the Queen who speaks to the place inside of us all that wonders, “Am I good enough? Am I accepted here?”

Young girls fall in love with the “perfect” Disney princesses and seek to be like them from the sparkling tiaras to the plastic high heels. I was amazed to see my daughter, who prior to age 4 only wanted to wear the softest of tag-free cotton clothes, was now wanting to wear polyester and lace to look “princess-y.”

While there is nothing inherently wrong with wanting to look our best, or for wanting to be seen as pretty, sometimes this desire gets stuck in our daughters. Their play then becomes rigid, name-calling or teasing begins, and exclusivity creates feelings of not belonging to the group anymore. When the desire to be beautiful interferes with having fun, enjoying play and simply being with friends, we can step in playfully to help our daughters move out of this rut and back into that place where they feel comfortable in their own skin again.

During one playtime when my daughter was 4, she and a friend were arguing over who was the most beautiful. Back and forth they went, getting louder and louder over whom was the most beautiful. I looked at them, both pretty in pink dresses and tiaras, and said with playful indignation, “No, I’m the most beautiful!”

They looked at each other and chimed in together, “No you’re not!”

“Yes I am!” I said back, chasing them around the house. I ran wildly, saying, “I’m the most beautiful!” They teamed up saying, “No you’re not!” We chased and laughed for about 5 minutes until I said I needed a break. Then the two girls joined hands, looked at each other and said, “We’re both the most beautiful!” And went off happily to play.

The laughter and fun of these types of playlistening games then makes listening to the inevitable tears easier. My daughter went through a time where she thought her hair was never “right.” I’d put it in a ponytail or a bun and she would complain about it being wrong somehow. I’d calmly say, “I’ll try again to get it right if you want me to.”

After a second try she’d rip the holder out of her hair in tears telling me to do it again. At this point, I’d kneel down beside her and say, ‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to get it just right now. Let’s wait awhile and I’ll try again later.” This would bring on a really big cry. She’d say she hated her curly hair or even she hated herself. I’d gently tell her I loved her and thought she had really beautiful curly hair. She argued against this while I listened and held her in a loving gaze. I tried not to argue back, but to simply hold the space for her to show me all the hurt that was there.

Listening to her dissatisfaction with herself was hard. How could someone so young feel so badly about her self? I hoped the work we were doing now would continue to help her as she got older and faced these issues even more.

Luckily, these feelings didn’t stick. After listening to a lot of tears about dresses not being right and hair not being right the issues started to dissolve. What was amazing after one big cry in particular was that she went back to the bathroom and just stood looking at herself quietly in the mirror, then she said to me, “My hair’s just not bugging me like it was.” She seemed amazed at this. I could see the relief in her and this calm acceptance of herself. She rarely fussed about her hair anymore after that and was so much more relaxed about her appearance.

Moments like these show me how much our emotions drive how we feel about ourselves, and others, and influence our behavior. When we can let it out safely, with the support of a caring listener, we find the relief and peace that were there all along.

~ Michelle Pate, Parenting by Connection Instructor and Consultant. Join her Building Emotional Understanding course beginning March 14th. You can also connect with her via Facebook.

Turning Goodbyes Into Good Fun

My oldest son, Hunter, had begun having a very hard time when his father left for work in the morning.  Each morning, he would scream, fight, threaten, and hold on to his dad, crying and pleading with him, physically trying to keep him from leaving.  At times, if I was in the other room with his younger brother, he would unlock the door and chase after his dad.

I was noticing that our mornings after my husband had left were getting more and more challenging, with my son sulking, fighting with me and his brother more than usual, and taking a long time to get out of his “funk.”  I tried Staylistening with him many times, as his father was saying goodbye and after he had gone, but he just felt stuck.  I decided to try a playful approach.

One day, after nap, we were lying in our big family bed–Hunter, his brother Dominic, and me.  I said to Hunter, “How about you pretend to be Daddy, and I’ll be Dominic.”

He seemed a bit unsure, but said “OK,” and looked at me, waiting to see what our game was about.

I reached out to him, and said, pleading, “Daddy, don’t go to work! Don’t leave, Daddy!”  A big smile spread across Hunter’s face.

“No, I have to go to work now,” he said, getting out of bed and walking toward the door, “You have to stay here.”

I reached for him, grabbing the back of his shirt, but he slipped out of my grasp, and began laughing.  “No, Daddy! Stay here! I won’t let you leave!”  I cried.  I got up and chased after him, and he pulled me back into the bed.

“You have to stay in bed, Hunter.  Here, I’ll sit with you,” he said.  He sat next to me, and as soon as I was back under the covers, he started again, “I have to go to work now.”

By now Dominic had begun to play the game too, and both of them laughed harder and harder as I struggled and cried, begging them not to go.  We played this way for a long time, and then Hunter spontaneously began the game again several times throughout the afternoon.  We had a lot of fun with it.

The next morning, I stayed close to see what would happen when it was time for my husband to go to work.  He said his goodbyes, and Hunter whined a little bit, telling him he wanted him to stay, but his father kissed him and said that he would be home for dinner, and then walked out the door without a fight.  Hunter turned around and looked at me with a smile on his face, and said, “I have to go to work now!” and the game began again.

Over the next several days we played this game all day long (or so it seemed).  The boys couldn’t get enough.  In that time, the morning goodbyes became easier and easier, and our days together filled with laughter.  Still, many months later, Hunter or Dominic will bring up the game, and play it with just as much enthusiasm as they did the first time.  I notice that it gets dusted off more often after one of them has been having a hard time with goodbyes, with anyone they’re close to.  I have really come to appreciate how wonderful it is to be there for my kids while they are working through something hard, and being able to stay light and playful with it.  It has also give them the power to bring up their feelings around separation in a safe way, whenever they want to.

Helping My Son Connect With My New Partner

My son’s father and I have been separated for 3 years and we have both started seeing new partners in the past six months. Understandably, this has been really challenging for my 11-year-old son to negotiate. He has been struggling with issues about whether he is still loved and lovable, with associated painful feelings and tricky behaviour around the respective new partners. I’ve been sharing Hand in Hand parenting ideas with my new partner and thanks to him and the awesome power of setting limits and playlistening, we are making some great headway towards helping my son with this situation.

Recently, the three of us decided to go for a bike ride to the beach, or rather my partner and I decided it would be good to get out in nature together and have some fun. My son was very upset at the time and resisting any ideas or suggestions for fun and adventure, which he usually loves. It was pretty clear that he wasn’t his usual reasonable and adventurous self and that he really needed some support with coming into connection with us. I decided to help him by setting a limit with him.

Lightly and warmly I got close and let him know that I really wanted him with us and that we were all going for a ride to the beach.  He put up resistance saying he didn’t want to come but I just kept my warmth and light tone coming, along with the limit that it was time to go, with a “let’s go have some fun together” attitude. He did come outside and get onto his bike but he didn’t get to release any hurt feelings at the time, so he was still quite upset while riding along with us. I kept close to him as we were riding and offered my warmth and care for as long as I could.

As we got closer to the beach, which is only a ten-minute ride, I started feeling stretched by the situation and started to lose my warmth. Thankfully, my new partner came to my son’s aide as an ally making warm contact with him. By the time we got to the beach both my son and I were feeling frustrated and ready for some play action. Let the playlistening begin! Spontaneously, my son started a wrestle on the beach, which my partner and I happily joined.

I’ve done years of wrestling with my boy, so it’s a well worn connection groove for releasing tension and rebuilding connection between us. This day we were both in fine form. I think he started it by putting a handful of sand down my pants, so once I’d emptied it out, the chase was on. At this point my new partner sided with him and they were both chasing and wrestling me to get me covered in sand. I’d chase them at different times, sometimes catching my son, often allowing him to escape, but always putting up a good contest for him to wrestle against. There was lots of vigorous running and wrestling and deep connecting broad smiles and laughter, with a fair few determined, playful stares.

Without any words or planning, this very alive and wild play spontaneously shifted and my son and I teamed up and started chasing my new partner, who is very tall and very hard to catch. We worked together to catch him, chasing him from different directions and eventually, with great satisfaction, we caught him. Then it was time to get him onto the ground. Together we worked with great gusto, and lots of gentle care, to destabilize his legs until he eventually allowed himself to topple to the ground.

Both my son and I had a great sense of satisfaction as a result and I got a personal taste of the amazing ability of this type of play to build confidence. I’m sure I grew an inch taller that day as a result.

After a wash off in the ocean, to clear out all that sand, we all rode home together in the evening twilight. For the first time since coming together, there was a very sweet and peaceful sense of unity and connection between us, and a deep sense of hope and satisfaction.

Once home we all worked together to make a delicious shared meal. As my son was going to bed he told me, for the first time in months, how much he really liked my new partner. It was a wonderful reminder of the awesome power of play.

Megan Edwards is an Australian Hand in Hand Instructor. You can join her in her upcoming online Building Emotional class beginning April 25th.
Megan says, “The class provides parents with the opportunity to get the level of support required for the emotional work of parenting which all parents deserve. The Hand in Hand approach of Parenting by Connection really changes lives in the most wonderful and deeply rewarding ways.”

Solving My Daughter’s Stuttering With Listening

Stella, my two-year-old daughter, was an early talker, unusually verbal, and a very happy, silly, open little girl. About four or five months ago, she came down with an extreme case of hives. She was given a lot of steroids to try to make them shrink to no avail. She spent a lot of time at the doctor, a lot of time being poked at and prodded, and it was extremely traumatic for her. Her sleep patterns changed from sleeping in her own bed all the way through the night and for long naps each day, to waking every hour or so and refusing to nap.

Two months passed. We got nighttime sleep back to normal and she was doing okay. She clearly had gone through a change, though. She wasn’t as open. She hated crying. She avoided conflict and would often say things like, “I need a way to be happy,” followed shortly by a triumphant, “I’m happy now!” after each upset. She allowed no time to be upset. Her mood was lower. She wasn’t nearly as exuberant.

That’s when the stuttering began. It started with hesitance before she would speak and the occasional slurring of her speech. It progressed from an occasional stutter to peaking at stuttering 30-50 times per word! Often, she would give up and walk away. It was heartbreaking.

After the first day of intense stuttering, my wife and I talked and we decided that a part of the dynamic was coming from her older sister “bulldozing” her–talking over her, demanding more attention, etc. So we made a plan to give Stella a Special Time day.

We left our oldest with her grandma and spent the whole day devoting our attention to her and letting her lead the day. She didn’t stutter much, if at all that day. We felt good about it. But the next day, by mid morning, the stuttering was back at full force.

The following day, she was back in super-stutter mode. I did a lot of research and decided we needed to take her to a speech pathologist immediately. I was so indescribably worried. But something in my gut told me that she was still holding onto something from the sickness months back. Her whole extended family had noticed the change in her after that.  Then it dawned on me… THE SLEEPING!!! SHE IS TELLING ME THAT NAP TIME IS THE TIME SHE FEELS SAFE TO RELEASE!!!

I had been trying to keep her from crying because she had been through so much and it seemed so traumatizing for her to go to sleep.  That night I set up a listening partnership to work on my own anxiety and fear about the stuttering and crying.

At naptime the next day, I felt very confident and calm. We did a half hour of Special Time before naptime so that she felt safe and connected. I told her that she was going to take her nap in her bed, and nursed her as usual. She happily agreed and was up for trying it as I lowered her into her bed. And then it began.

“I don’t want to take a nap!” she screamed clear as a bell. No stutter. “Let me out! I’m trapped!!” She screamed and screamed.

I reassured her and told her she was going to be okay, that I wasn’t going to leave her, that she was safe, that I loved her, that I knew she could do it. She would then move into, “I need a way to be happy,” desperately pleading for a way to feel better.

I reassured her that she had a big sad and that sometimes crying is the only way to get the sad out. “I want to be happy!” she said. Then she would stop crying and start walking around her crib in circles, happily tracing her hand around the railing. So I told her, “I’m going to help you by laying your body down to sleep now.”

I gently picked her up and laid her down. She screamed, “NOOOOOOO!!! That’s not your job!! That’s not your job! That’s my job!” and stood right back up. That was the cycle for two and a half hours.

At one point she stopped walking in circles and turned to look at me and said, “Mommy! Your eyes! They’re still there! Thank you!” and then went back to protesting and crying. It was a very real validation for me that my support, love, and eye contact were making her feel safe.

At the end, she just lay down, asked me to wipe her nose and went to sleep. She didn’t stutter once through the crying and she hasn’t stuttered once since. She cried for about ten minutes the next day and an hour with my wife the day after that. Since then, she naps happily and cries more easily during the day.

She still pleads for a way to get happy, but once she’s done with a big cry, she says, “I did it! I got my sad out! I feel happy again!” Sweet girl. Every once in a while I will sense the hesitance that began all of the stuttering. There is usually an opportunity to support her through some crying or help her laugh a lot that will make the hesitance go away. But I am happy to say, no stuttering. None.

The Staylistening session was long–very long. It was hard on my body and hard on my heart. Doubt crept in a few times, but not for long. I knew in my gut that I was doing the right thing. I simply reminded myself that my job in that time was all about being present for Stella. I would redirect my focus onto her in those moments and all was okay.

I don’t think it would have been that easy had I not done the Listening Partnership beforehand, however. My back was probably the biggest problem, so I pulled up a chair and sat next to her crib with my head resting on the railing- relaxed and with clear eye contact. I was close enough that I could reach out and touch her, give her affirming contact without hurting my body by slumping over the railing.

The hardest thing about the entire experience was the sense of helplessness I felt through her sickness and the months of her not being herself and then stuttering. It was heart wrenching. I don’t know what I would have done without the Hand in Hand tools. I am so grateful.

I learned a lot about from this experience. I learned that I should always listen to my gut, the power of Listening Partnerships to keep my centered, open and patient, and how powerful loving listening is. I learned an incredible amount about Stella, too.

She is a little girl who will choose peace and happiness at any cost. She doesn’t always show her upset in the moment and one of the most important jobs that I have as her parent is to make sure that she feels connected, loved, and safe enough to cry and laugh out her upsets.

I also got a very big lesson in trusting that my kids are capable of showing me what they need to feel powerful and good. She was telling me all along, I just was trying too hard to find a solution from the outside. Our little ones are very capable. I followed her lead. She knew what she needed and still does. I just need to make sure that she feels connected and she can do the rest.

She has since returned to her normal, crazy, silly, talkative self. I stare at her sometimes and think, “I am so relieved to have her back! I am so lucky!” Lucky I am. As lucky as they come.

—Lauren Scout, Certified Parenting by Connection Instructor

Join Lauren in her upcoming Building Emotional Understanding online class starting April 17.  Register now!

You can listen in on her May 11, 2012 discussion on NPR’s Forum about attachment parenting.

A Window Into My Son’s Soul

One warm day this past summer my whole family was enjoying a day in the sun in our backyard. My father and sister-in-law were with us, grilling dinner on the barbecue, and my two sons were playing with my husband in a canoe that we had gotten recently. We had decided to store it in the middle of our backyard so that they could play in it while the weather was nice, and they loved it.

I was sitting on a bench, enjoying watching them pretend to row the canoe along a lake. Daniel, who had recently turned two, was standing up on one of the seats, which seemed precarious but fairly safe, as the ground around the canoe is pretty soft. Sure enough, he fell out of the canoe, slowly, without hurting himself, but he was really scared. He began to cry, and my husband stood up to go help him. Our older son, Michael, who was four, began to scream and cling to his father’s leg. He didn’t want him to help Daniel, and said that he would hold him and keep him there.

I got up immediately and moved to them, and held Michael so that his father could go help his younger brother. Michael began thrashing, hitting and kicking, and saying that he was going to push Daniel out of the boat. I decided to move us away, as I was in an awkward position to hold Michael while keeping myself safe, and he was clearly too upset to act rationally.  Also, his brother was still very scared and crying, and our proximity wasn’t helping.

I picked Michael up and carried him, fighting with all his might, over to the bench I had been sitting on. I sat him down and held my arm on his lap, keeping his legs from kicking me.  He screamed at me to let him go, and I told him “I am going to keep us all safe. If you can keep from hurting me or running away, I will move my hands.” He said that he could, so I set my hands on either side of him on the bench. He immediately tried to run away, and I held him there, as gently as I could, until he stopped fighting and I put my hands at his sides once more.

I didn’t say much. I told him, “I can tell this is hard right now. I’m going to stay here with you while it’s hard.” Every now and then he would try to run, or begin hitting or kicking once more, and I would use my hands to keep us there and safe. Otherwise, I just knelt in front of him, trying to keep eye contact, and resting my hands at his sides. Every once and a while, I would say, “I love you,” or “I’m right here with you.”

After a few minutes, his fighting became less physical, and more verbal. He began telling me anything he could think of to get away. As I have seen him do this many times before, I recognized it as an attempt to flee; he was clearly fighting some feelings that were frightening to him, and he wanted desperately not to face them. He told me he had to go to the bathroom, that he was hungry, that he needed this or that. Each request became more desperate, more frantic, and each time I tried to let him know that we would go to the bathroom, that later, he would eat.  I reminded him that he was OK, and that he had everything he needed right now.

Eventually he lashed out angrily at the safest target: me. He told me I was a scary mama, that my face was what was scaring him, my hands were hurting him, and he needed me to leave.  He told me that he wanted me to go away, that he wanted his Aunt Dee to be his mama. He told me I was poo-poo and pee-pee, that I had come out of his bottom, and that he was going to flush me down the toilet. I tried to remember that this was all his fear talking, lashing out, trying to keep him safe, and I just kept telling him. “I love you.” “I am your mama, and I will not leave you.” “Here is my face looking at you, loving you.” “My hands are right here, keeping you safe.”

This went on for a while, long enough that our food was cooked and people were ready to go inside. I felt that having so many eyes on him was not helping him feel safe, so I encouraged everyone to go upstairs and start eating. They did, and this sparked a panic in Michael.

“I don’t want them to eat without me! I don’t want them to eat my food!” he screamed.  I assured him that no one would eat his food, and that we would be going upstairs soon, but that I wanted to stay with him while things were so hard. He fought again a few times, not as fervently, to get past me, and I used only enough force to keep him there and us safe once more.

Finally he looked into my eyes, and I could see tears welling up in his. It was the first time that he initiated eye contact during all of this upset. He said “I don’t want Daniel to take my food.  He takes everything from me. I don’t want Daniel to take anything from me ever again!” and began to cry, very hard. I moved in close and held him, while he cried and cried. The tears poured out, and neither of us spoke much at all. I kept holding him, peeking in every once in a while, reminding him, “I’m right here, baby.”

Eventually the crying waned, and Michael glanced up at me looking pouty, almost a little embarrassed, and made a half-hearted noise, as if to say “Go away.”  I decided that he had probably released what he was going to for now, and I thought it would be a good time to reconnect. I jumped back a little at his sound, and said, “Whoa!  Are you trying to scare me away?” with a little smile. His eyes twinkled as he sensed a game.  “Yeah”, he said, “Roar!”

“Whoa!” I exclaimed. “Well, you are going to have to be a lot louder than that to scare me away…”

“Rooooaaar!!!” yelled Michael, jumping off the bench. I began to run around the yard, yelping in mock fear while he chased me, roaring and laughing. After a couple of minutes, I stopped near our stairs, and he ran into my arms. He looked up warmly at me and said “Mama, will you carry me up the stairs like a baby?” I happily scooped him into my arms and carried him upstairs, giving him kisses while he gazed deeply into my eyes.  Halfway up, he said to me, “Mama, I want you to be my mama. Dee-Dee can be Daniel’s mama.”  While this was clearly not the entire truth, it was a wonderful reconnection.

Over the next few days, our connection was sweet and strong. I noticed a shift in how Michael was with his brother as well; while he was only slightly more patient and understanding with him, he much more often called to me for help when he was getting frustrated, where before he would have just lashed out at him. Mostly, I felt like I had been gifted a glimpse inside of his heart, into a hurt that he hadn’t shown me before, and my new awareness helped me to better keep his perspective in mind when struggles did occur.

-A mother of two in Berkeley, California

Special Time and Face Time

I had been having a harder and harder time carving out regular Special Time for my two sons.  During the day, when I am the only adult present, neither of them can stand to be alone while the other receives my warmth and attention.  I don’t blame them!  I tried to do Special Time in the evenings, after my husband gets home, but that is their time to play with their Daddy, and our lives together feel much better when they both get to soak up some of his love after a whole day apart.  Add dinner and bedtime into the mix, and there just isn’t time left without rushing and stressing.

For several weeks I was just fitting it in when I could, when other adults were around and on the weekend.  I still kept getting the sense, however, that a small dose of Special Time during the day would really go a long way to boosting my boys’ sense of connection and importance.

One day, my older son, 4 years old, woke up before his brother, and I asked him if he wanted to do Special Time.  He was very excited, and wanted to drive his toy trains with me.  He had gotten everything set up just right, when his younger brother (2.5) woke up, and I had to go to him.  My eldest was very upset, understandably so, and said that he still really wanted our Special Time.  I got an idea.  I called my husband on the phone at work, and asked if he had 3 minutes to talk “face to face” with the younger one while I had Special Time with our older son.  He agreed.  We connected our lines, and I put our two year old in front of the screen.  I told him he was going to have time with just he and Daddy, and that I was going to be in the other room with his brother.  It worked beautifully!

Normally, a phone conversation lasts less than a minute, especially with my 2.5 year old, but having the visual connection really engaged him, and he was content while I set the timer and left with his brother.  We only had three minutes of Special Time, but it was just what the two of us needed, and we had a wonderful time.  After the three minutes and the call was up, I really noticed that my 4 year old had an abundance of patience for his younger brother, and was really working hard to talk with him when he did get frustrated, without yelling or lashing out (as can sometimes happen in the late afternoons).  He was also very affectionate with me for the rest of the day and evening, and our whole day just felt “good.”

My husband and I have agreed to do these little chunks of “face to face” time, to allow me a few minutes of Special Time with each boy, whenever he is available.  I am pleased that we have found a way to make technology serve our family well!