Setting Limits with Love and Connection

Courtesy of morningt.blogspot.com

My 18 month old was playing with chalk on the driveway, and discovered that it would fit into the grill of the car. I walked over to him, squatted down next to him, and said, “We can’t put that in there. It’s not good for the car.” He tried several times, so I had to block his hand. I kept smiling at him and repeated, “Sorry, I can’t let you do that, though I know you want to.” He got more and more frustrated, eventually throwing the chalk and ‘running’ away out the driveway and down the sidewalk.

As he toddled down the sidewalk, I kept close behind him without quite catching up. Occasionally he would slow down enough to look over his shoulder to make sure I was with him. I’d say, “Yes, I’m still here. I love you. You can be as mad as you need to be and I’m going to stay with you.” Then he’d keep on ‘running’. I have to admit it was hard not to chuckle at how sweet he was, with his little arms pumping away trying to get as far away from me as he could.

I tried to get him just enough space to feel powerful, while still being connected. We went all the way around the corner this way. Him checking me (do you still love me?), me reassuring him (yep, I’m still here), him running more. After about 10 minutes of this he turned around with BIG open arms and a huge smile waiting for a hug. We hugged, then he held up his hand for me to hold and we walked back to the house for more play.

-Join Certified Instructor Kirsten Nottleson in her Building Emotional Understanding course. Starts May 8. Learn more.

Helping my Daughter Cry it Out

After school one day, my daughter, who is 7, and I had some time together on our own and went out for a hot chocolate. In the café, as we talked about various things, she said, “It’s hard for me to cry because I literally can’t breathe when I cry.” (I reflect on those times, from birth to two years as an attachment parent, before I learnt of Aware Parenting and later, Hand in Hand, when I breastfed my daughter when she was upset. I also reflect on an aspect of her birth story, when she had a thin tube put down her throat right after birth.) I told her, in response, that I had recently been told that it can help to make a sound when you are crying rather than trying to breathe it down. This was something my Hand in Hand mentor had said to me in a class call that I’d found very helpful.

That evening, after listening to a CD of the children singing, recorded at their old school, my daughter and her 5-year-old brother got into playing a very energetic, physical game of chase together, laughing, squealing, chasing and letting off tension. I was cooking dinner and only keeping half my attention on them in the other room. My daughter fell while chasing her brother, and hit her ear on the banister. I went straight to her. She cried loudly, howling so loudly I momentarily wondered what the neighbours would think! This was new for her to be loud like this when hurt. I told her she was doing great to make a noise, and reassured her that she was still breathing. She kept crying hard. Later that evening and the next morning, she was more relaxed and playful than I have seen her in some time.

A mother in London, England

Support for Teenagers

I was asked recently about how to support a teen boy who is “possibly depressed, pretty shut down, and often won’t get out of bed for school or other essential activities”. My son hasn’t had trouble with getting out of bed so I can’t speak to that, but I do know that the idea of meeting a child where they are, is SO key to building that bridge that allows them to feel safe enough to walk across it (or to move some of the emotional junk that has kept them from being able to walk across it).

My thought was about teen boys in general and how just BEING WITH them is so important. Being still, quiet, not saying much, just being a presence is essential. Slowing it all down, having no agenda.

Lately I have been doing a lot of just going in my son’s (12yo) room, after knocking lightly on the door. I really don’t say anything but “hey”, and then make it obvious by my actions that I haven’t a care in the world but to be closer to him. I don’t try to make eye contact or ask him what he’s doing. I’m just sort of content to have been let in the room. Sit on the bed, lean my back against the wall.

And then I wait.

He’ll keep reading or drawing , or whatever he’s doing, mostly acting as if I’m not really there. I think his limbic system is all the while checking me out, just like it did when he would spend EVERY SPECIAL TIME FOR MONTHS smashing tonka trucks together when we first started doing Special Time ten years ago. Like, “are you REALLY going to hang with me? Or are you going to bail when you get bored.?”

And after about 10 minutes he starts talking. About school and friends and funny things he saw on the internet. Or he shows me what he’s drawing and I make sure to pay relaxed, but interested attention. Or he’ll start shooting hoops on the basketball hoop on the back of his door, and hand me the ball to shoot a time or two. Or nothing in particular will happen at all.

Here’s the cool thing. What I notice afterwards, and later that day, is that he is more relaxed, kinder to his younger brother, better eye contact, more interested in things in general,… just as if he had a huge cry. It is amazing to me.

So my thought for this family (and other families of teens).. when your son is stuck in bed, pretending to sleep, either climb in bed with him, not saying much at all, having all the time in the world, no expectation of anything being said or done,… Or just lay down on the floor next to the bed. As parents of preteens, we often have a good deal of urgency, fear, and worry about our young ones, if they are anything but bright and cheery. We get worried about the teen years looming just around the corner (or that are already there), and all that they will be having to navigate. So the being still and meeting them exactly where they are a good place to start . It’s not the complete answer, but a solid beginning of establishing trust, so that they know we are in their court when they need to unload some of the bigger stuff that gets in the way of their full and contented lives.
Kirsten Nottleson

-Join Certified Instructor Kirsten Nottleson in her Building Emotional Understanding course. Starts March 27. Register now.

School Success Through Listening Time

At the end of a school year, my husband came home ecstatic. “My sons are geniuses! Did you see their report cards?” Our sons just finished third grade and Kindergarten, and we had just received their report cards by e-mail.

Our sons did well in all areas. My third-grader scored in the 99th percentile nationally in reading, having scored in average range last year. Our Kindergartener leapt from knowing almost no Kindergarten facts to showing advanced skills. This was not because I pushed them on academics–I didn’t push at all. I think it was because my primary focus was on increasing the time I spend listening to them and encouraging play. That’s why my children advanced by leaps and bounds. It showed up on their report cards.

I did work hard listening to them. When my Kindergartener was afraid to take the pre-Kindergarten test, and when he didn’t want to go to school the first two weeks of school, I listened to him cry for hours, reassuring him all the while that he would be safe as he did those things. My listening led to him being able to go to school confidently, and also to his loving to learn so much that I couldn’t stop him from reciting and writing the alphabet and practicing his numbers at home.

When my third-grader came home from a day of school with nasty behaviors and harsh remarks, and wouldn’t do his homework, I listened to him cry and rage for hours. Many nights, he didn’t do homework, and I worked with his teacher and even his principal on this issue, as I agreed with him that he had too much. He also had difficult social experiences at school, and I listened to his feelings about those. I listened to relieve his mind, and took action when I thought it made sense, advocating for him and changing my expectations of him, according to what I learned through listening.

I listened to both my children when they fought. They fought not because they didn’t like each other, or because that is just what siblings would do, but because things were hard in their lives. Nowadays, they amaze me with their increasing ability to roughhouse with each other like lion cubs, laughing and creatively coming up with new play when their upsets are cleared through listening.

My husband and I offered them each a short Special Time daily, and whenever I found opportunities for more one-on-one time. We did Special Time before getting out of bed and before their homework or music practice. We even did Special Time sleepovers for one parent to take one child on a special outing overnight. My children and I spent time pillowfighing and roughhousing in the evening, and we spent time chasing after each other or playing hide-and-seek when going through a morning or bedtime routine.

I listened to their crying every day from three minutes to an hour at a time. Even with frequent short Special Time and Staylistening sessions, by the end of the school week, my sons would become very tight, sizzling with upsets. So over weekends, my husband and I did longer Special Time sessions, and we ended up Staylistening with them when their big feelings would finally surface. Then they would go off to school again on Monday. This is what I did in my family to try to turn their troubles at school around. And when the emotional obstacles were removed, my children went ahead and learned a lot on their own. My Hand in Hand mentor’s comment was, “Your husband should say, ‘My wife is a genius!’”

I kept listening to my children because I saw their positive transformation and because we felt closer even though it wasn’t easy to do. I kept listening because I gradually remembered and worked on my childhood and came to think I would have liked it if I had been listened to back then. I was able to keep listening because I had other parents listening to me. So thank you to all my listening partners in my community of parents, for your support.

Parenting by Connection Instructor in California

A Little Listening Cleared Up the Vision

A sweet 9-year-old student whom I tutor came in the other day in a somewhat low-key mood. He got ready to do the math that I had planned for him. We were working on calculating the area of various shapes that had combinations of triangles, rectangles, and circles. When I started showing him the first of these, he couldn’t immediately see how the combinations worked and got frustrated immediately. “It’s too hard! Give me another problem.” I thought for a second and then decided to try another problem that was slightly simpler. I knew that he was capable of doing both problems. It was well within his reach. But once again, he said, “It’s too hard. I don’t want to do this problem. Give me a different problem.”

He was now more visibly frustrated. I knew at this point that it was not the problems that were the problem. There was something else going on. So I decided to stay with the second problem and gently said, “I think you can do this one.” At this point, he was ready to tear up the papers and I didn’t let him. He got off the chair and threw himself onto the carpet. Tears flowed.

I asked, “What’s going on, sweetie?” That morning his mom had sent me an email saying that his dad had been traveling for nearly 2 weeks and was due back the next day, and that her son was missing him a lot. So I paused and then asked, “Are you missing your dad?”

It was apparently the right question. The floodgates opened. He talked about how he had been talking over the phone and over FaceTime, but how it was still not the same as having him be there in person. I agreed, “It’s not the same. I’m so sorry you’re missing him. I bet he misses you too.” And he said, “Yes. And I kiss him over the computer, but it’s not the same as kissing him directly. I have to kiss the little camera on the computer. It’s just not the same.”

It was just such a tender moment. A boy missing his dad. I sat there and simply listened to his feelings.

And within a few minutes he was ready to move on and was able to easily grasp how a certain shape might be viewed as a rectangle minus two other smaller rectangles and how a certain other shape might be viewed as a circle minus a square. And he could then see how the areas could be calculated.

And all it took was a little listening to clear up his vision and ability to recognize the combinations of shapes!

—Certified Parenting by Connection Instructor Usha Sangam

Listen to a free podcast of Parenting: Going Deeper in which Usha presented. Sign-up here.

Read other stories from Usha on this blog.

You can learn more about Parenting by Connection in the Listening to Children booklet set.

“No More Hitting” Made Our House a Home

Our life has changed so radically that even people who visit us are beginning to ask questions. Our nanny was stunned at the difference in behavior and has passed along the course information to her sister. My father who works with therapists, has been sharing your website with board members and any one else who will listen. A couple who stayed with us last week passed the information along to their parents and are saving it for when their baby comes along.

I have done four different parenting courses and have read somewhere in the ballpark of 70 plus parenting related books. I have certainly picked up a number of wonderful strategies to use with our girls, but none of the information I was busy collecting made this type of immediate shift in being. I was so sad when they were not getting along and my oldest was hitting and biting, particularly because I had read so many books and was from the beginning practicing attachment parenting and positive discipline.I thought all the work we had put in “should” make it so those kind of behaviors would be rare occurrences. I was devastated when they became routine. I felt a bit like a failure. I was beginning to crack and stray from the positive discipline methods I had so avidly been learning. I found myself yelling and saw my daughter burst into frightened tears.

What a contrast that was to this work. My first staylistening session with my daughter happened over a fort she had built that her sister knocked down. She wailed that it was ruined. Instead of talking her out of her upset, I held her as she cried about her sister ruining her things and taking her things. I mostly listened and told her I knew it was hard. At some point, I told her that her sister may take her things, but could never take her place.Shortly after that, she stopped crying, looked at me and said, “I know, we can build it again.” I asked her what would happen if her sister knocked it down. She giggled and said, “That would be fun because then we can build it AGAIN!” She hopped down and ran over, calling for her sister to come and knock down the fort with her.They played together. I mean, really, they played together. They had never done that. That was the beginning of an amazing shift in their relationship and in my relationship with my daughter.

Now when my daughter hits or pushes, I look at her and she just knows what is about to happen. She says some odd things while I hold her and she cries, but invariably after it is over she will thank me for helping her feel better.Yesterday after a rough patch at the park, I held her and she told me that she just needed to cry. She is no longer associating her behavior with anything bad or wrong about herself, instead she is thinking that she is having a hard time inside and needs to cry. I cannot imagine what a difference this is going to make over the course of her life.She was heading down a path that could have caused her to perceive herself as a “mean” or “not nice” girl. I wonder how that would have influenced choices she made in the future. Your work is simply the best gift I have received as a parent. Watching the girls giggle together and be generous to each other has been so heartwarming.My house has become a home.

Helping my Child Become Who She is Meant to Be

I participated in the No More Hitting class a few months ago and saw immediate and life altering changes in my children’s behavior. I was amazed at how allowing them to cry seemed to bring them closer to each other and to me. I signed up for the class because my almost-three-year-old had become quite aggressive, with biting, pushing and hitting. After a year of trying every gentle solution I could find, I was desperate. Luckily, this time I found a class that actually had more than a temporary solution.

It took a few weeks for me to really get the hang of when to move in and facilitate a cry and when to just offer some closeness. I figured it out, and had achieved some dramatic successes. But nothing prepared me for what would happen once my daughter truly began to trust in the process herself.

We had guests come to stay with us from out of town. A few days into the visit, we were planning to go out to dinner when my oldest daughter started to give me the red flags that she needed to cry. She was bonking her head repeatedly on the couch, pushed her sister and bit my dress. The babysitter was on the way and I knew we would be late if I moved in to listen to her, so at first, I let it go.

Then, her sister picked up one of her toys and my eldest ripped it out of her hand and hit her. I decided right then to give up my need to be on time, and to give my daughter what she was clearly asking for. I scooped her onto my lap in her bedroom and held her. At first, the crying was about her sister taking something that was hers. I told her a few times that her sister could never take her place. This seemed to touch a core upset for her and she cried off and on for a bit. Just when I thought she had started winding down, she looked at me and screamed that her ears hurt.

I gently moved my hands closer to her ears and she screamed at me not to touch her. I told her I was going to move very gently and touch her ears. Then she screamed that her head hurt. I lightly put my hand on her head and she literally exploded with upset. Her face contorted and she howled, “I can’t get out! I can’t get out! I’m stuck!”

I was taken aback by this, but could see she was working through something very frightening for her. She put her hand on her throat and rasped for a bit. She bucked and struggled and again called out, “I’m stuck, I’m stuck! I can’t get free!” Sweat poured from her brow and her facial expression was quite intense.

I knew our guests were in the living room with the babysitter and could probably hear her howling. For a moment my concern went to them, then I let that thought drift away and refocused on my daughter’s clear distress. I am not sure how long she cried while I held her, but it was quite some time. I told her that she was safe here, that she was free, and that whatever had frightened her would never happen to her again. I said it over and over. The tears and struggling persisted. At long last, her little body relaxed in my arms. She opened her watery eyes, looked right at me and said “I love you.” Her eyes shut and she fell asleep.

I sat on the chair holding her relaxed body, in a state of shock. What had just happened? Of course, I will never know for sure. But, when my daughter was born, her cord was wrapped awkwardly around her, and her heart rate dropped alarmingly. I was given a shot of adrenaline and a team came in to reposition her. They told me I might need a C-section.The next several hours, I was very frightened as the doctors came in and out, and her heart rate periodically dropped. I rolled this way and that and then at last I dilated. They had given me Pitocin to help move things along. However, it still took two hours of pushing before she came out.

She came out crying and it was months before she stopped. She could cry for hours in a car seat, in a crib or anywhere you ever set her down. I tried every technique in the book to stop the crying. I rocked her, bounced her, swayed her, fed her or set her in front of Baby Einstein. I achieved my goal, but ended up with a child that never stopped moving, who never wanted to be alone, who was a picky eater and evidenced real aggression.

I came out of her room after that shocking Staylistening session and shared what had happened with our friends. They were also stunned and were not at all resentful of the time they’d had to wait. At dinner all we could talk about was what might her life look like, having been given the opportunity to let something like that go.

What would have happened to her if she carried it around forever? When someone got too close to her as an adult, would she push them away for fear of being trapped? At dinner, I wasn’t sure if she would be different after in the days following, but now that a few weeks have passed I can tell you, the answer is yes.

My frenetic daughter, whom people often would suggest was hyperactive, is now calm and even-keeled. She remains an energetic, highly curious child, but no one would ever use the word hyperactive. I took her to a book reading at Pottery Barn recently. There were many kids at the start of the reading. One by one, each child left to play with other toys and wander around the store. Half an hour later, there was one child still sitting in her original seat. My daughter sat through the entire book reading happily watching and patiently awaiting her stamp. I videotaped her because I was too shocked for words.

Two months ago, that would not have happened. Two months ago, I was worried that when she reached school age, someone would suggest Ritalin and I would be in for the fight of my life.

My picky daughter, who has been a self-proclaimed vegetarian, has started eating meat. She now eats ham, chicken, turkey and, get this, chili! It seems as if offloading her old fears has given her the space to try new things that previously seemed frightening. The last few weeks, she has been extraordinarily loving with me, her sister, her father, even her friends. She is generous in ways you would not expect a three-year-old to be.

I am now left with the profound conclusion that my daughter has become the person she really was meant to be. I made a mistake when I tried to stop her from healing through tears in the months after her birth. I made that mistake because I thought the tears meant I was being a bad Mom, unable to soothe or provide whatever it was my daughter needed. I feel blessed to know that my mistake was not an irrevocable one.

I found Hand in Hand Parenting and they provided me with the tools I needed to help my daughter heal at last. The bouts of aggression and frenzy, followed by guilt and remorse are over. Not only hers, but my own.

As I watch her blossom, my heart softens and my chest relaxes. This is the life I wanted for her, one where she is free to choose how to be. She can be kind, generous, warm, creative or even grumpy, sad and angry. She can run full throttle or sit quietly to read book after book. Now, it is her choice, not a reaction beyond her control.

I intend to continue taking Hand in Hand courses and to pursue this work to wherever the journey leads me. What a gift to my child, to myself and to the world. If only all children had the chance to be who they were meant to be, what a different place this would be.

No More Sleeping in Mummy’s Bed

Courtesy of Pecan Sandies

My son has co-slept with me since he was born. When he was about 18 months old, I bought him his own bed with the plan to move him into it so I could have my bed to myself. I tried getting him to stay there, but I could never make it work. We had gotten into a routine where he would wake up sometime in the night and come into my bed, and we would sleep together until the morning. That was working for both of us most of the time. It would become an issue though when I was sick or if one of us was experiencing some insomnia. Any attempt to get him to sleep in his own bed at these times just ended in disaster!

My son is nearly 4 now, and after another night of sickness, with him feeling too scared to be in his bed by himself, I thought it was time we dealt with the issue properly. I decided to tackle it as an emotional project. It wasn’t that I minded my son in my bed. The issue for me was that he was scared to sleep by himself and I didn’t want him to feel that way.

I started by taking it to my listening time. I would talk to my listening partner about all of my fears. I was scared he was going to feel all alone, and that I was abandoning him by leaving him in his bedroom all by himself. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to listen to his cries in the night. I was worried that it wouldn’t work and I’d have another attempt at this and fail. I enjoyed having him in my bed most of the time – I’d miss him being there. I’d be all alone in bed. I stomped and raved and cried about my fears. I gave myself time and preparation. I would talk through the process I was going to use, I would talk about all the things that could go wrong and what I could do if that happened. I kept talking about it until I knew that my son was going to be completely safe and happy in his bed. That I wasn’t abandoning him and he wasn’t all alone. I was still with him, only a call out away if anything came up for him.

The first night I was going to start working on the issue with him, I made sure he was really tired. We started off with a big session of wrestling before bed. We played our favourite wrestling game. This involves covering his bed in pillows, making sure there are enough around the walls to avoid head banging, and then I stand at the end of the bed and he runs up to me and pushes against my hands with his hands and then he flies back onto the pillows. Then we both turn around and we use our bottoms to bop him onto the bed and then I fall on top of him. This gets him laughing a lot and we do it over and over again.

Then as I was lying with him as he was going to sleep I told him that he wasn’t going to be sleeping in my bed anymore. I let him know that I was going to help him stay in his bed, so when he woke in the night I would help him go back to sleep in his bed. He started to cry. He wanted to sleep with me, he didn’t want to be by himself. I listened to him and told him how much I loved him and how safe he was here.

Later in the night he woke up and came into my room. I was sleeping lightly and quickly got up and met him at my doorway. “I’m sorry honey, you’re going to sleep in your bed tonight, no more sleeping in mummy’s bed. I’m going to help you back to your bed.” I stood there with him as he cried and cried. He told me he wanted to sleep with me. He didn’t want to be in his bed by himself. He would reach out towards my bed, seeing it, but not being able to touch it or get into it. That would make him cry some more. I held the limit with him and listened. As his cry subsided, I held his hand and walked him back into his room and into his bed. He had a little bit more crying to do, but didn’t easily go back to sleep. As I went to leave the room, he would start crying again. I would keep my position and talk to him, telling him I was just here and I was listening. When his cry subsided, I would walk back to him and give him a big kiss and cuddle and tell him I was going to go to bed again. As I left the room he would begin to whine a little and I stayed where I was and told him I was just here and he was safe in his bed. The last time I left, I had gotten back into my bed when he called out again. I stayed in my bed (as it’s just across the hallway) and I called back out to him and told him that I loved him. He then slept until the morning.

The next night we did the same thing – big fun wrestling before bed, and when he woke in the night and came in, I met him at the end of my bed and held him as he cried for a short time about wanting to come into my bed. I walked him back to bed and I left the room as he was going back to sleep. He called out to me when I was in bed and I called back.

This happened for two more nights, and each time the cry was shorter, or not at all, and he stopped calling out to me when I left the room. Then he slept all the way through in his own bed. I couldn’t believe it! It was nowhere near as challenging or as painful and I had anticipated it to be. All of the listening time I had used had cleared out any of my fears getting in the way and he just had his to work through.

I made sure we had regular Special Time each day during that week so that he could feel my loving presence and get to be the one setting the rules. We also did lots of other playing and adventures that he chose and enjoyed.

Since we have worked through this issue, my son has been able to spend a night in my bed and then the next night in his and not have any issue with it. He is generally happy to be sleeping in his own bed all night (although sometimes he tells me he wants to sleep with me) and he doesn’t get up in the night to come into me. He wakes in the night and is able to go back to sleep by himself now, something he has never been able to do before. Then, four weeks on, he decided that he no longer wanted to wear nappies (diapers) to bed. He has successfully transferred to undies without any bed wetting. This is something I would have been more reluctant to do if he were still sleeping in my bed.

-Join Certified Instructor Meagan Probert in her upcoming Building Emotional Understanding course, beginning June 6. Learn more >

Roughhousing Helps My Daughter with Math

One day after a fun-filled Special Time it was time for me to sit down and balance the check book. My daughter decided to sit with me and do her math work. The first bit was new to her so we worked together on a couple of problems. She seemed to understand it, but was soon whining, “Do I have to do it all? Can I go play on the computer?”

“Finish the first half and then we’ll talk about it,” I said. She growled, got up from the table and stuck her tongue out at me.

Oh boy, I thought. She came back to the table, struggled with a problem and then started waving her pencil toward my face. I could feel myself triggered by this action, but managed to calmly say, “I don’t like that. Please stop.” She replied in an ever-annoying ‘tween tone. “Whaaat? I’m not touching you.”

“You’re not touching me,” I said. “But I still don’t like it. I want you to stop.”

“Grrrr!” she growled. “I just want to throw it at you! You’re the meanest mom!”

My words were not getting through to my usually cooperative daughter. I knew that whatever tension had its grip on her, it needed to be broken with some play. I got up, smiled at her and said lightly, “Ok, throw it at me.” She looked surprised.

I walked to the far end of the house where I knew she wouldn’t be able to really hit me, and then she threw the pencil hard. I playfully flinched, even though the pencil wasn’t near me, and she laughed. I moved close to her, putting my arms around her waist, and said playfully, “You wanna fight me?” She struggled against me as I acted as her opponent and commentator.

“Oh, she’s getting me now! She’s taking me down!” I said as I rolled to the ground. She promptly sat right on top of me. We wrestled with her doing her best to stay in control and keep me down. I gave her a challenge by flipping her onto my legs airplane style, but I always let her manage to get back in charge of the game.

We played this way back and forth with me begging her to “Go away” (as she often tells me when she’s upset) and then after she went away I would cry, “Hey wait! Come back! Don’t leave me alone!” She would then return to jump on me and wrestle around more.

At one point, she got the tape and proceeded to tape my mouth shut! I played along with her and let her keep the upper hand while still putting up a “fight” to get away. I tried to talk with the tape on, begging her to take it off, but I was all mumbles. She laughed and just added more tape.

As our play slowed I went back to balancing the checkbook and she quietly sat at the table beside me and started to do her math work. Barely a minute later, she handed me her completed paper. “You’re done already?” I said. She smiled big. I was amazed at how quickly she completed the work she had been complaining was too hard for her.

The math work itself wasn’t too hard, only the tension she was carrying made it seem too difficult. By allowing her to take the more powerful position in our play she was able to work through the tension so it could dissolve and her intelligence could flow again. I am continually amazed at how play and wrestling can transform a tense situation and I am always pleased with the happy, connected place we end up.

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

Super-protective Factor: Tales of Parenting by Connection

Nurturing the Parent-Child Connection

Monthly Archives: June 2012